For the Days AFTER Mothers Day...A Tribute to My Amazing Mom, and a Challenge to Every Other Person Striving to be the Hands and Feet of Jesus

~Matthew 25:37-40~

“Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? 
Or thirsty and give you something to drink? 

Or a stranger and welcome you? Or naked and give you clothing? 

When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’

“And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’

The Mothers Day posts and pictures on Facebook were both beautiful and thought provoking, some even heart tugging, this past weekend...for so many different reasons. 

Like any role in life, perfection in parenthood does not exist. Some get it more "right" than wrong. Some never get the chance. And some arrive at the destination via a totally different path than they ever expected. Last year, I posted this about my mom: 

"Bio mom of one...Christlike example of motherhood to many. Chances are if you've ever crossed paths with her (or even if she's only heard of your needs) then you've been touched by her prayers and generous acts of kindness. In the classroom...in the church...in the community...with people like her, and people who've walked a totally different path...she's the faithful hands & feet of Jesus during the good times & the really hard ones. There's a few reasons my Daddy wanted me to grow up to be like her, & I sure hope when I reach 70 years young that my life is 1/2 as energetic, fun, & godly as hers!"

The Hands and Feet of Jesus

Obviously, if you know my mom, then you know she's easy to brag on. Her accomplishments and good deeds are countless. 

Some are traditional in nature: 

  

   - lifelong teacher in the classrooms of school, church, and life.

   - volunteer for almost every possible cause in her community to help others

   - Foster Mom to 3 young ladies, 2 of them living in our home for almost 6 years, and the other still remains an important part of our family.

   - determined, resourceful, creative, and hard working, there is no physical task that she will not tackle (whether that be in the house, on the farm, or even qualifying for and running the Boston Marathon at the age of 58, after just beginning to run 4 years earlier).

   - she's never wavered in her commitment to prayerfully and financially support the church. Even when our family's financial security was more than questionable. 

   - she's been on many mission trips (and lead teams of youth) around her state, the country, and even overseas.
   

And some of her actions are little more "outside" of human nature:

   - she's given away cars...did you see that? PLURAL.

   - she's asked God to show her who she could encourage, even in her darkest of days, and then keeps her eyes open, trusting that He will provide a person in need...and again, she helps the downhearted.

   - she has been the truest example of "in sickness and in health, til death do us part" when it comes to taking her marriage vows seriously: married to my dad for almost 37 years before his death, throughout his roller coaster battle with Bipolar Disorder (you can read more about that in my previous Fathers Day post); and then 11 far too short years with her precious Danny, who was gone only 8 months after a cancer diagnosis.

   - although she herself has never struggled with substance abuse, she continues to assist people with addictions seek help through a faith based program...never judgmental or condescending, only striving to help others fill their hurting hearts & self-medicating bodies with Jesus, and genuinely celebrating their successes.

 - she's a prayer warrior like none I've ever witnessed. If I mention a friend in need during a casual phone conversation, I'll hear a pause on the other end, and then she asks for a name or a repeated detail, and I know she's writing the request on her prayer list. 

And through it all, I've NEVER heard her suggest that she deserved praise or recognition. It has all been done in humility and with a genuine spirit. Never an ulterior motive. Never the expectation of a returned favor. There is always love, and there is always a desire to see others REALLY succeed. 

God's Love in Action

We did not have a family devotional time, scripture memory cards taped to my mirror, or attend a private Christian school. BUT I DID SEE THE GOSPEL LIVED OUT DAILY!

My mind's eye is filled with these vivid childhood memories...

    - going to church every Sunday morning (and evening) and Wednesday night. 
    - thanking God before EVERY meal.

    - learning about missionaries who gave up everything to share Jesus's love with others, and being encouraged to write them letters, collect items for the people they helped, and praying for them.

    - going with my mom to check on and visit with people in the hospital, nursing home, and "shut ins" (elderly neighbors who couldn't drive to go to church, run errands, or go to social events) 

   - a packed car full of laughter, sometimes making two trips, to take children and teenagers to church when their parents didn't attend; or to camp, ballgames, and special events.

   - tagging along as my mom helped neighbors, sometimes for extra income, and sometimes just because someone needed an extra hand.

   - watching my mom study her Sunday School lesson, read her Bible, and pray over Missionaries all over the world on their Birthdays. 

   - an open home that always welcomed my friends, kids along our country road, or even a neighbor who would stop in way too late after having too much to drink. My mom would put on a pot of coffee and allow him to sit and chat, as long as he "watched his language" and didn't get too loud. 

   - going with her to tutor kids in the summer...these were poor, socially outcast families. I didn't realize that until I was older, because my mom treated EVERY person the same...with love and respect.

   - watching her arrive early to school, stay late, or make special arrangements to help children and adults who needed extra instruction to learn effectively.
   -learning to enjoy and appreciate the fun and beauty of God's amazing creation all around us on horseback rides, walks to the creek, or even just in the back yard.

Lessons Learned...

And even when she didn't say the words or probably even realize it, she was teaching me (and so many others) the most valuable of lessons:

Love God. Love others...all of them. Accept people for who they are, while also inspiring them to have the desire to improve. Find the good--in people, places, and events. Keep loving. Keep doing your best. Keep moving forward...through all the times...the good, the bad, and the really tough and ugly. 

As I contemplate all she's taught me and I think back to my Daddy's constant challenge to "become half the woman your mother is," it hits me:

My mom is all these things-NOT because she gave birth to a child, but because she is a child of the one true King!!!

It matters not if you are a mom to one, many, or none...as long as you're showing love to His children, you are following His plan, walking in His will, and encouraging others to do the same. He has blessed each of us with a specific set of gifts and talents to be used for His glory and to love others the way He has loved us: unconditionally, and with grace. We are ALL unique pieces in His grand puzzle, and He intends for each one of us to fill a gap where no one else can fit in the exact same way.

~Galatians 6:9-10 (NLT)~

So let's not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don't give up. Therefore, whenever we have the opportunity, we should do good to everyone--especially to those in the family of faith.  

But...it IS easy to grow tired, frustrated, spent, and feeling neglected and under appreciated...if we try to go it alone. Do I think my mom probably felt these emotions? Do I think she has probably wished for others to notice her efforts more often? I'm sure. But the difference is that she continues these super-human type feats, clothed in complete humility, because she constantly seeks God's strength to live by the Spirit, and not by her own flesh. Re-read that carefully. She seeks HIS strength to live by the Spirit; she does NOT rely on her own.

I have heard the testimonies about her overwhelming influence on the lives of others...people who have been inspired to teach; those who have discovered the ability to forgive themselves when they see that a well-respected Christian leader does not judge them, but strives to help them; adults who say her concern and encouragement when they were students in her classroom altered their decisions to stay the course (personally and academically), as she gave them hope; many have referred to her as one of their spiritual heroes. And I can confidently say, that if she has read this far, she is tearful, overwhelmed, humbled, and quick to say that she is merely a vessel...one of God's servants, Christ's followers, desiring to carry out the gospel in an everyday life. Isn't that what we're all called to do?

Don't let anyone EVER tell you that the little things don't mean something BIG. Don't let Satan tell you that fitting into a certain stereotype or one specific role is of more importance than another. There are many roles my mom could not have filled if she was busy raising a family the size of mine. There are many people with whom I'd never have contact or the ability to help if I was not raising this bigger than average crew. Some of the people who connect best with my kiddos are those who have no children of their own. There is a place and purpose for EVERY person He has created.

And in these days after Mothers Day, remember...SOMETIMES, the word HERO is spelled M-O-M. But if you open your heart and eyes, it is always meant to be spelled Y-O-U.  

~1 Peter 4:8 (NLT)~

Most important of all, continue to show deep love for each other, 

for love covers a multitude of sins.

   - 

Father Knows Best

Earnest "Earnie" Lowell Brown

(Like the Sesame Street Character, and yes there's an 'a' after the 'E')

Feb 8, 1942 - April 15, 2001

Corny jokes & sayings

Constantly reciting historical facts & sports stats

Love of coaching (baseball & track)

Being his "Batgirl" for Little League

Love of teaching (Math & about life in general)

College football player

College runner

UK Basketball fan

Pride in my running (He told everyone I'd be a State Champ someday

   during my 1st Cross Country season in 6th grade...he was right)

Generosity with his time & money for anyone in need...especially kids

Paying me to wash the dishes before mom got home

Challenging me to become a woman like my mom

These are the first memories that flood my heart and mind when I think about my Daddy. The ones that really matter. The ones that bring a smile to my lips...a giggle to my face, as I shake my head and remember the embarrassment of a middle school daughter suffering through an hour of her dad being the substitute math teacher. The memories that force a twinge of regret that I didn't pay enough attention to all those historical facts that he repeated so often or encourage him with enough hugs and "I love yous." 

Major mood swings

Severe depression that left him on the couch for days on end

Embarrassment over mania that kept him up for days

Hallucinations

Delusions of Grandeur

Gambling addiction that wreaked havoc for our family finances

Multiple hospitalizations

Spending Christmas Eve Day when I was 16 cleaning up the mess from a
   demolished Christmas tree while my mom was with him in the hospital

The former list warms my heart & floods my memories first. The latter list made me stronger and more empathetic, but does not define my daddy, nor my memories of him. They were merely the symptoms and results of a cruel disease: Bipolar Disorder. They are proof...my family and many others are proof...that God can use EVERYTHING for His glory and for good...that ALL circumstances can be redeemed through He who is sovereign and greater than man. 

I have long felt a prompting to share my memories of my dad, but would often find myself just mentally typing a story, and never touching fingers to keyboard. This Christmas, as I decorated our family tree, I was shocked as a flood of overwhelming emotions shook me to the core. I am NOT one who usually cares about aesthetic details, but I have always been meticulous with our Christmas Tree...an object of great joking within our family. It finally hit me why...that Christmas so many years ago when I had proudly decorated our tree as a teenager, only to have my dad dive on top of it and destroy it in the middle of the night, because he was sure he had seen movement inside it. As I spent Christmas Eve day cleaning up the mess while my parents waited at the hospital for his admittance, I don't really remember being angry. This was our reality. I hadn't really known anything different. I was just sad about our tree. Fast forward to this year, and I realized why I was so emotional...I feared that even for a moment, I may somehow forget my Daddy. His big, prideful smile. His laugh. His off-key singing that he loved to proclaim as "a joyful noise, even if it wasn't a pretty one." I longed for him to know his 5 grandkids...to be able to brag about their accomplishments and laugh at their chaos. I vowed again to write about him, but I wasn't sure what or how.

God kept whispering, "Write," and I was prompted again after an encounter with a sweet new friend who shared some common experiences with me. She has several children, and she has a husband with that same nasty, cruel diagnosis that haunted my dad. She was thankful to see that I had grown up ok...that I was still seeking God's guidance and studying His word. She's worried about the impact on her children. I get that. I vividly remember sitting in a conference room at a hospital, stone faced, refusing to show emotion to the counselor talking to me, but vowing to someday help children who have parents with Mental Illnesses. To help them realize it's not the end of the world. It doesn't define their loved one...or them. I've often forgotten about that promise, but God never did. 

God tells us His ways are not our ways. Our emotions and plans change with the wind. His are always steadfast. Eight years after that encounter with the family counselor (that I completely blew off...I'd learned the coping skill of "pretend it never happened, and it won't be embarrassing and it's easier to move on"), I found myself working as a Certified Therapeutic Recreation Specialist at Eastern State Hospital with people who had Mental Illness diagnoses, and most also had substance abuse issues (due to self medicating to mask and to cope with their emotional confusion and pain...fortunately a struggle that my dad never experienced). I loved that job more than any I've ever had since then. My personal experiences helped me feel comfortable in an unpredictable setting. I was so upset when my husband's job moved us across the state a little over a year later. And then another short year later and just months before my dad's death, he had his first major manic episode in 10 years. He was ultimately admitted to the very unit where I had felt at home. I knew the doctors, nurses, and social workers. I knew it was a totally different hospital than the one he'd experienced as a college student in the 60's when treatments for people with Mental Illnesses were far more harsh. The staff knew they were receiving the full background story and honest answers from my mom and me to help with his treatment. I was so thankful for God's provisions along a path that I could have never constructed on my own.

My blue eyes
My outgoing personality
My all or nothing persistence
My strong legs and lungs
My love of sports

For years I struggled to understand who my dad really was. Was he the depressed man on the couch? The argumentative and frustrated man? The gregarious and loud man who liked to be the center of attention? I worried that I, or my children, would inherit "his" illness...but it wasn't really "his," and it definitely wasn't him. The characteristics listed above are some of the things I DID inherit from him. Without those strong legs and lungs and love of sports, I may have never met my husband (we were teammates on our college Cross Country and Track team). Without that outgoing personality, I would not have had the courage to share my story with that sweet friend and assure her that her children will be ok. 

I remember that in his last years, my daddy had a Bible verse that he often quoted. Considering the demons that he had fought for way too long, I can only imagine the strength it must have taken to cling to the words of the scripture reference on his headstone: "Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me." Psalm 51:12.

My Daddy with me (the baby) and my 2 foster sisters. Easter 1975

This story could never be complete without mention of my AMAZING Christian mom. Her story is one for another blog post, but she took her marriage vows seriously, and her example of selfless family preservation is 2nd to none. I realize that many families do not have this rock solid blessing to protect and provide the stability I received.

Today I read a devotional with my 3 older children about choosing to see our world through the reflection of Christ's love and blessings, instead of the negativity and complaints that abound in our world. The dark days of my Daddy's illness made me stronger, but they do not define him in my mind or heart. As a parent, I find this encouraging. I may not personally battle a vicious mental illness, but I do battle my flesh and that results in daily mistakes. I pray that as my children grow and mature...and long after I'm gone...that they will be more influenced by the maturity of Christ's love and cling to my love for them instead of those human mistakes I've made along the way. 

I believe in the gift of encouragement. Whether you're personally living a battle with a mental illness, have a loved one facing this heartache, or you're just struggling with the daily challenges and mistakes of parenting, I pray that you can find encouragement in my dad's story. And I especially pray that you can find the ultimate encouragement that comes through a relationship with the only Father who certainly does know best. Just let me know if you'd ever like to hear more about that Father's story :).

It's even more about God touching your soul than your senses.

God is powerful, creative, and the supplier of peace...
sharing views like this with the ones you love allows you to exhale.

Even the fiercest of sibling rivalries call a truce when ocean waves & sandcastles are involved...and the resulting spontaneous little Crazy Crew train on your nightly beach walk can make you misty eyed.

Sand+ocean+boogie boards+pool+all kids being packed into one bedroom and allowed to turn on the TV whenever they're in the condo=pure bliss (and tons of memories).

Even if you hate sand and can't stand when everything gets covered in it...
you just can't help but dig in it.

WARNING: Late July-early August is peak jellyfish season around Hilton Head Island!

As evidenced by the marks that still remain on two of our children...

and later confirmed by Bobby's google search.

The Tooth Fairy may get lost and forget where you're staying on vacation, even if  the same poor kid who got the brunt of the jellyfish stings 

loses his front teeth ...but eventually she shows up...

Save your pennies, so you can get a room with an ocean view. Nothing soothes the soul like sitting on the balcony and watching/listening to the waves crash the shore.

Sit on that balcony every spare moment you get...morning, afternoon, and night. It's vacation...let the big kids watch a movie or go for round 2 at the beach with Daddy while the littles nap...and sit your booty on the balcony to read, sleep, veg out...
whatever...but enjoy that captivating view and those heavenly sounds.

Talking into the wee hours of the morning with one of your best friends in college was awesome...but it's even more amazing when you're married to him and sitting on your balcony within ear & eye shot of the ocean... 

...you will be more tired the next day as you chase your 5 children after being up until the wee hours than you were after those all-nighters in college...

but it's totally worth it.

And asking the 6 year old to hold the 18 lb baby while the 8 yr old takes a pic of Momma & Daddy before the drizzle turns back into a downpour can lead to some interesting "outakes" and lots of giggles.

You may not even realize you were holding your breath, until you... 

...watch your children race down the beach...

...with beach towel super hero capes...

...or dance in the surf...

...and ride the waves...

...and proclaim their love for the beach.

And suddenly...you can actually BREATH.

Mother, Mother Ocean...I have heard you call...

The Race of Our Lives...

My family was attacked on Monday. Not my immediate, biological family. I've never even met most of this part of my family, and it happened over 900 miles away. But still, they are my family. We are related by our common, insane passion for an ancient sport that clears the mind, melts pounds, sharpens character, and inflicts the most joyful pain imaginable.

I've been a runner for almost 27 years...and I don't use that term lightly. I started putting one foot in front of the other at the age of 11...and NEVER stopped (except for brief breaks to birth 5 babies)...and I WON'T stop, until God decides I've taken more than my fair share of steps. (Go ahead. Start the Forrest Gump comparisons :). I'm short, have bad running form, and my lack of coordination is the source of many family jokes. But God chose running as the avenue to bless the socks off this small town girl. It's how I met my husband. It's opened doors to travel across the country and to meet friends from all over the world. It paid for college, and it even added a few more dollars to the bank account afterward. It definitely channeled high energy and a strong will in the right direction and fostered self-confidence, a strong work ethic and the type of self-discipline that I want my own children to learn. I am a runner...and I am a running fan...just like those straining toward the finish line & those cheering on their loved ones Monday in Boston.

I've raced in everything from the small town fundraiser to the Chicago Marathon;  from High School Cross Country races in cow pastures to US Championship races; and from the endless circles of a 10,000 on the track to the Olympic Marathon Trials. On the roads, on the grass, on the track...runners are different from everyone else, yet SO much like each other. Races are a special kind of sports venue that you don't just explain with words. You FEEL them in every fiber of your being. Every sense is challenged: from the sight of pain stricken faces and blister-bloodied shoes to the sound of pounding feet on the pavement just after the bang of the starting gun; from the smell of stinky socks and icy hot to the taste of dripping sweat. And every runner who's had a time goal can relate to their physical feelings fluctuating between the complete euphoria of a runners' high and an unbelievable, excruciating head-to-toe pain. Whether you're a front-running elite athlete or a back of the pack plodder, swearing you won't walk...you have all these things in common, and you cheer FOR each other.  Are there many other sports where competitors pick each other up after they've fallen across the finish line? Stand nervously at the start wishing each other "good luck" and passing along a warning to stay to the right because there's a pot hole 50 yards ahead? Encourage other competitors as they pass and urge them to stay together to catch the next person ahead? Oh, yes...we want the prize...we want to beat others...but we REALLY want to beat the clock and ourselves. We want to overcome those fears of failure or desires to give up, so we can post a new personal best.

If you've never been to a big race, do your family a favor and GO! I'll never forget crossing the finish line of the State Cross Country Championship my Senior year of High School and seeing a crowd of my friends-many of whom had never been to a race of any kind- and most of them had tears rolling down their cheeks. They couldn't believe the excitement and energy in the atmosphere...they said they felt like they were running the race WITH us. How many other sports allow ALL the spectators to stand so close they can hear the athletes' labored breathing and see the sweat pouring down their focused or pain stricken faces? Basketball fans are often referred to as the "6th man," and any runner will tell you that the right words yelled along the race course at the right moment can make the difference between a personal best and a DNF (did not finish). Runners often wear shirts decorated with their names so people will cheer for them individually, and families make signs spurring on their loved ones. My parents traveled all over the country to support me, and the final time I saw my dad's huge, proud smile was after I crossed the finish line of a big race...an image forever burned in my mind's race "scrapbook." Some of my most vivid race memories are of my husband running to multiple points on a course to tell me my position or hearing my High School Coach's motivating words when I couldn't even see him...or even a complete stranger cheering me on during a lonely portion of a long race...each word of encouragement helping me dig down a little deeper so I could keep going and maintain or regain focus. Yes, the spectators are a vital member of the running family.

I think that's why this horrid, evil act of terrorism gutted me. Road races represent all things positive: a family event with a sense of community that promotes a healthy lifestyle, self-discipline, hard work, personal sacrifice, and an indescribable camaraderie. It's an atmosphere filled with celebration and mutual respect. Competitors share common goals that are only attainable by persistently logging the miles and maintaining a positive outlook...no shortcuts, no excuses. It is a mindset completely opposite of the evil people who seek to inflict harm or to rob us of our freedom. Evil has invaded and forever changed an open, safe, celebratory event for the running family and their spectators.

Notice I said changed, but NOT defeated, nor ruined. Not only are runners relentless in their efforts, but they're also RESILIENT. How else do you describe a person who crosses a finish line puking, dehydrated, and aching from head to toe...but immediately planning the next race? When runners get injured from the constant pounding of their training, they don't quit...they hop on a bike or take to the pool until healed, and then return to running and their carefully planned goals. Guess what, evil doers? Runners are tough, determined, and not easily swayed. It is no coincidence that the Bible repeatedly references running, and that many people use it as a metaphor for life. Our sport is one of courage and encouragement. We will train harder, band even closer together, and refuse to lose to you. EVER.

"But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. -Isaiah 40:31

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. -Hebrews 12:1

OUR STARTING FIVE

Our "#5" at about 11 weeks in the womb (meaning only around 9 weeks after conception)
"How Great...Is Our God...?"

So, I'm sitting here with only a couple more hours of a completely peaceful house. I can actually hear the interviews on SportsCenter (instead of giving up because of the noise and changing the channel to PBS Kids or an "On Demand Show"). Yet, the silence is deafening...the peacefulness seems empty, missing purpose. Ironically, this is what I often long for at least 5 times a day :). How did I score an empty, quiet house when we have 4 extremely "high spirited" children, ages 2, 3, 5, & 7? My incredible saint of a mother: retired, volunteer responsibilities galore, nearing 70 years old...and totally selfless, full of love for her grandkids, and an amazing energy & creativity for making almost everything simply fun. She could sense my despair...complete physical and emotional exhaustion as I neared the end of our 5th pregnancy after tackling a super busy Christmas season followed by a vicious stomach bug that wiped out our whole house...without the occasional breaks that I once got from working a part time job or from my "friend-family" in VA who always helped out when needed. She swooped in and rescued our children from their tired, hormonal momma and whisked them away to Mammaw & Pappaw Danny's farm for a change of pace and scenery over 2 days & 3 nights. 

I thought I would spend every moment of "freedom" tackling a mile-long to do list. Even now, I keep feeling twinges of guilt that I'm not putting away laundry or taking down the naked Christmas tree. Instead, I have enjoyed two adult restaurant dinners and an ice-cream date with my husband, an uninterrupted lengthy phone conversation with my best friend in VA, a 3 hr lunch catching up with a dear friend with whom I never spend time (she lives just 20 minutes away, but we'll soon have 11 children between the 2 of us, enough said), and running a day full of errands SOLO. This agenda is most likely what my mom actually intended for me to accomplish...not my never ending task list that will never be completely checked off and only added to with every waking moment anyway :).

Sooo...the dog and I sit here listening to this very unfamiliar quiet, and I am reflecting on our awesome growing family. Only about one month to go (maybe even less) of being a family of 6 before we meet our 7th Crazy Crew team member...the completion of our "Starting 5" (or our "Scoring 5," depending on your sports preference being Basketball or Cross Country :). Some of you "get to know" our Crew through my facebook posts, but very few folks have had an inside peek to our total quirkiness: Anna's insanely competitive, strong, persistent will...balanced by a ridiculously quick wit and cutting humor; Joey's contagious giggle, over the top tender heart, and complete mastery of scatter-brainedness; Evie's Jekyl & Hyde-like sweet & firey sides with a skill for charming the pants off anyone who spends 5 minutes with her; and Mollie's sassy, yet somehow sweet, demanding nature that leaves you wondering HOW she just won another battle that the other 3 never could have mastered. Bobby and I try desperately to maintain control, but we're pretty thankful that ultimately, they're all in God's hands. And I just pray that despite our human flaws and daily mistakes, that we somehow help lead them to a deep, personal relationship with our Father that will guide every step of their future when we, as parents, have even less control.

And now, I feel this new baby roll, kick, push and stretch around in my belly, and tears fill my eyes as a smile overtakes my whole face and heart. Yes, I am odd...that's no surprise to anyone who knows me well. I LOVE being pregnant...yes, it's been much more challenging, painful, exhausting, and nauseating the 5th time around at age 37 than it was the 1st time at 29/30...but I could never take the amazing feelings of my body being the home for one of God's greatest miracles for over 9 months for granted! I've spent 194+ weeks pregnant since June 2004 (will be 200 if I go full-term). The sickness, fatigue, discomfort in moving & breathing, varicose veins, crazy body transformations and pains, etc. still pale in comparison to the joy of growing a precious living being. It's a phase of life that I thought I'd left behind for the last time after our 4th child was born. We "knew" we were done having babies. Four is a nice, even number, right? New home in a new city, moving on to a new phase of life and finally lots of room and growing freedom for our family of six, right? Crazy as it sounds, while my head always said "ENOUGH," my heart always said "REALLY? Is it?" I would count my kids before leaving a playground or crowded area, and although I'd see 4, I'd still feel like someone was missing. Mollie hit 15 months and I realized she was our only child to ever make it that far in life without a younger sibling on the way...and it made me really sad. However, it made NO sense for us to have another child. So I jumped back into harder training and returned to racing for the first time in six years, researched Nursing school and thought about applying for a program when Mollie was a couple years older. We had already given away EVERY piece of maternity and baby clothing and baby equipment when we moved back to KY. And I resolved to move on to the next phase of life with excitement and peace, waiting to see what doors God would open and close and praying for Him to speak to Bobby and me about the same vision for our future as we attempted our best to raise our 4 amazing children under His guidance.

Oh, He spoke to both of us, alright...LOUDLY! In the form of a positive little test...that I took 3 times to be sure I was seeing correctly, waited 2 days to relay the results to my husband, and held off until nearly the end of a pretty miserable 1st trimester before we had the nerve to share the info with family and friends!  Obviously, after the shock wore off, we embraced His precious blessing! I praise God daily for this opportunity to feel life leap inside me again...thank Him constantly for the joy on our children's faces as they talk about the new baby...and wait in excited anticipation for His guidance on just how we're gonna do all this. He knows when we get content and begin to lean on our own understanding and provision. He knows exactly what our families need to push us just past the line of self-fulfilling peace, so that we MUST seek His perfect peace that surpasses all human understanding. 

As I snap back to Momma reality and head out to pick up the wild ones and begin the mad dash of dentist appointments, basketball practices, dinner, laundry, never-ending LOUD chaos, schoolwork, church activities, and half-done personal tasks and home projects, I know I will feel challenged, overwhelmed, and inadequate. However, I have an even bigger smile on my face and in my heart after being given these rare, sweet (ok, sappy) moments of reflection on our Crazy Crew. And I am forever grateful that God made me this completely incomplete person...so that I HAVE to rely on Him and the incredible husband, family, and friends that He's placed in my life. And hopefully that humbling, important lesson is one our Starting Five will learn from us early in life :).

Trick or Treat Crazy Crew Style

Sooo...a full year has actually passed since we moved into our home in Louisville, KY. That is shocking to me in a few ways...my heart still aches for our friend-family in Virginia, as if we just left a month ago, but our house and neighborhood felt like home from day one, as if we'd been here for years! There are still many things to catch up on from the past year, but I'll save those posts for a year end wrap-up (or decade wrap up...my record shows it may take that long to update :). For now, we'll stick to some Crazy Crew Halloween news! 

We moved into our house one week before Halloween last year, so we didn't know anyone in our neighborhood (except, in true KY style, we did have about 5 neighbors stop by with baked goodies, "welcomes" to the 'hood, and even party invites). Of course, I did get to meet a few others as I roamed the community on Halloween afternoon searching for our dog...who had run out of the house after a deer racing down our driveway (1st & final time I've EVER seen a deer on our street)...and I was dressed as a clown, carrying our screaming 1 yr old dressed as a cat....while the other 3 kiddos stood in the driveway in their costumes crying that their dog was lost forever. The cursed dog was found and we headed off to our college buddy's house about 20 minutes away for an awesome party and trick or treating in their neighborhood.

While we didn't trick or treat here last year, it was VERY evident that our community LOVES Halloween and neighborhood camaraderie!! We chose to stick close to home this year and meet a few more folks in our area. All I can say is...WOW! As one neighbor stated, it is basically "Halloween on steroids"! The month kicks off with everyone starting to "Boo" each other (secretly leaving plastic pumpkins full of goodies on someone else's doorstep...you hang your pumpkin on your mailbox, and then leave a Boo treat & instructions for 2 other families to pass along the fun). Three doors down is a MAJOR Haunted driveway/garage attraction. They collect canned goods for a local food bank as admission and provide 3 options: kinda scary, 3-D very scary, and an all-out-get-trapped-in-a-coffin-while-others-watch-your-reaction-on-the-big-screen version. The attraction runs the 2 weekends before Halloween and the days leading up to the "big" night. We were out of town and had to miss TWO parties that we were invited to attend the last weekend in October. There are "pre-trick or treat" driveway parties after school, groups of 30+ kids traveling door-to-door together, and the yard decorations? Again, WOW! So we left our buckets of goodies for other kiddos on the porch with our pumpkins, took some pics, and headed out into the windy, freezing evening for our own loot. I have never seen so many running children, smiling & chatting neighbors, and CANDY!! The kids had a blast, and to say we had fun watching them would be a drastic understatement! Below are a few pics from the evening...not very many, because the lure of the waiting candy was waaay too promising :) Oh, and you'll notice that you never see Daddy in the Halloween pics. Yeah...he's the same "character" every year...a Daddy. Only this year, he informed the kids he was actually changing it up and going as "a cold Daddy."  

We got warmed up a couple weeks before Halloween with Trick or Treating at the Louisville Zoo.
 SUPER fun with all kinds of characters, and of course...candy!

Pumpkin, anyone?!?! NO! WE WANT CANDY!!!

RIGHT to LEFT: Mollie the Itsy Bitsy Spider who bit Spider Man Joey,
an all new superhero, Captain A (for Captain Anna), and her
superhero sidekick Dinosaur, Evie!

Quick on the snap & actually caught Mollie blue eyes in her festive seasonal attire :)

Baby Punkin #5!!! Momma was beyond exhausted by this time...up at 6 to prep the day and run 3 miles, Moms' Group meeting in the AM, help with Joey's school party, regular after school activity shuttle vanning, getting 4 pumped up kids ready for one of their fave nights of the year, and walking for 2 hrs around the 'hood having a blast!

2010 when I was 2 weeks away from having Miss Mollie...Hoops! There she is!!

I know folks have all different views about Halloween...to each his own and what they choose to make of it. However, we absolutely LOVE the fall season and all the festivals and opportunities to teach our children to practice their own creativity, manners, and interaction with neighbors. I LOVE the community spirit, seeing the excitement & pride of my own children and neighborhood kids when adults compliment their costumes, and seeing the smiles on older neighbors' faces as they hand out candy and hear those sweet little voices say "trick or treat" and "thank you"! And now...the Crazy Crew has already begun planning their costumes for next year...thank goodness they usually don't mind wearing their big sibs' hand-me-downs...with a story theme, of course! (see the caption from the kids' group shot ;)