on stage.

Time and time again, I've stated my thoughts on how important I think the father/daughter relationship is. That I truly believe it is one of the biggest deciding factors in how a girl will decide her self worth and what kind of man she will eventually fall in love with. It's huge.

Sometimes I think maybe I just chalk BG up to being a "Daddy's girl" far too often and I often forget the influence that I, her mother, have on her.

Too often lately, BG says and does things that are straight out of my mouth and actions. The way she talks to the cat, the "you're making me nuts" statements, and even the way she dresses are becoming more and more influenced by me.

The other day she came sauntering out of my room with one of my b*ras wrapped around her. After I died laughing, I asked her to take it off to which she replied "No Mama! I have to wear this like you!". And it hit me; every single second that she is awake, she is watching her Dad and I. Right now, she is with me 24/7 which basically means that 24 hours a day, I am on stage. I have an audience.

Everything I do, she takes in. It is a huge, and slightly terrifying, realization. And while I didn't just figure this out, the older she gets, the more this fact smacks me right in the face.

How do I want her to respond to situations? To disappointment? How do I want her to display that she is upset? I know too often when I get mad I shut down and get really mean to those I care about the most and I do not want that for her. I want her to know how to share what she's feeling in a healthy, and respectful, way.

Right now our church is doing a study on women and it is far too often hitting so close to home. See I have a past, and while some parts are pretty and unicorny, some parts are downright dark and very, very ugly. And it terrifies me more than anything on this planet that my little girl might someday make some of the decisions her Mama made.

I made it through to the other side (obvs), but it wasn't without a lot of hurt and a lot of destruction to myself and to many others. Thankfully I do love a God who wiped that slate clean and I'm no longer hindered by my past, but it's still there. And I think because of that, I am more determined to show BG a way to stay out of that.

Every single thing she takes in. My words, my actions, the way I love her Dad, the way I love my God, the way I dress; she takes it in.

Before an actor goes on stage, there are hours and hours of prep work. There are weeks of learning lines, there are multiple practices, and there is hair and make up. To me, my hours of quiet time with my Father, my talks with her Dad, my runs, and even my time with my friends are my "before show necessities". Those things make me ready to show her the kind of woman she should be. Those are my prep work.

I'm not perfect. Nor will I ever be. I snap far too often. I yell. At her, at her Dad, at the animals. I have a very short temper and I lose it often. I've made her cry multiple times because I have done something to upset her. I'm not perfect.

But when those things happen, it's up to me to swallow my pride, apologize to whom I have wronged, and to work to make things right. Because that's what should be done and because she also needs to know that I am not perfect, but I do try very, very hard to do what is right.

The responsibility of raising a daughter sometimes buries me. It seems so hard and when I think too far ahead my chest gets all tight and I simply can't breathe. I've seen some terrible, awful things that I never want her to experience. My constant prayer is for God to guard her heart and for her to find Him early in life.

But in the meantime, she's watching me. Me.

So I get up and do my quiet time. I dress in ways that are appropriate. I engage in activities that I'm okay with her engaging in. I laugh a lot. I run. I hug and kiss her Dad in front of her. I hold her hand. I smile a lot. I go to church with her Dad every week. I make time for "me" time (though not often enough!).

I'm trying. I'm trying to instill self-confidence in a world that tears it down. I'm trying to show a love of God is awesome in a world that says it's not. I try to show that parents love each other in a world where so many kids don't have that. I'm trying.

It's not always easy and I don't always want to do it, but it's always showtime.

weak.

There are very few things that make me very uncomfortable.

People talking about sex (I'm twelve I know), confrontation, and weakness are the top three.

For so long I looked at weakness as a bad thing. Who wants to be weak? There have been times where tears have given me feelings of utter disgust. I'm not proud of that, but it's true.

It makes me uncomfortable.

I don't like feeling weak. I don't like feeling like I don't have it all together; like I cannot do something. It makes me feel out of control which just sends me into a tailspin and I don't like it at all.

So on Sunday when the pastor preached about how weakness might not be such a bad thing, I listened. Surely he was wrong?

But apparently he's not. In fact, biblically it says that it is not a sin to be weak, but it is a sin to pretend to be strong.

Wow.

He preached on how Paul, an amazing man of God, prayed numerously for God to take away a certain weakness in his life. He asked three times for this to happen and three times it was denied. Knowing God could easily have cured whatever ailed him, surely there had to be a reason He kept saying no.

Let me be frank with you; right now, in this season of life, I feel very, very weak. In such a short time, everything I was used to got flipped upside down. My husband would agree with me as he is feeling very much the same, but that would be his story to tell. We were very comfortable where we were. We liked where we lived, we were pleased with our jobs, and life was plain good.

Now? Every single day is scary.

As I sat there in church on Sunday, I knew that this little stage was one I needed to talk about. Because so often we sit here and we read stories of bloggers that just seem to have it all together and if we don't feel like that, then it hurts. It feels like a slap in the face.

I know because I've been there. But I've also been the blogger who pretends to have it all together while I am a mess inside. But not this time.

I find that when times are a little tough, I am stretched and molded by God to reflect more of who He wants me to be. Every time, a little less of the old Megan is there and a lot more of a new Megan replaces her. And it is good.

The pastor made an excellent point when he said that "we want to understand our weakness, but God wants to unleash it. We want to 'fix' the problem, but God wants to transform the person".

Wow.

Honestly, with everything going on right now, I just want a big life fast forward button. I'm tired of the stress, I'm tired of the worry, I'm tired of the guilt. I need a break.

Daily I think I need change; I need a job and I need it now. BG needs to be in school. We need to find a permanent place to live. And all of those things? I want like yesterday.

But it appears someone else has different plans.

It's time like this where one has to just listen. Just sit and listen. I'm not putting on any airs. When I say that right now I am physically and emotionally weak, I am being as honest as one can be. It's hard right now.

Mr. P and I both want things different and we want them different now. But perhaps this is our time to take a step back and regroup. Perhaps we were following the wrong plan and this is His way of getting us back on track. I really don't know..

What I do know is this; every single time when I have been at my weakest, God has used it for more than I was even imagining.

When we went through everything to get BG, we were ready to give up. To walk away. But He had a different plan and now I have her. And she's more than I could have dreamed.

When we were down and out and so sad about leaving Savannah; He moved us to Anderson, where I met one of my closest friends and made so many other good friends and our faith grew like we only dreamed it would.

When I am weakest He uses me the most.

This is one of those times. It's time to give up my control freak tendencies for a bit and just ride this ride to where it's supposed to take me.

no one said it would be easy.

First of all, a HUGE thank you for all the texts, calls, tweets, and emails checking in on us that I have received. And for the prayers y'all have covered us with over these past few days. We have felt every single one and no lie, you're a huge reason we're getting through this season of life.

I'm not trying to be hugely dramatic or secretive with not giving exactly what we're going through right now, but I'm still having a hard time putting thoughts to paper and processing what is happening.

I'm also having a hard time discerning God's plan in all of this and I feel like I probably shouldn't just ahead of myself until I've got a bit better grasp of what is going on.

All that to say, your prayers have been felt. And we appreciate them more than you know. And I am more grateful to this community and the friendships formed through it than I will ever be able to express. So thank you and I truly pink, puffy heart you all.

Easter.

Like everything else, I think Easter is yet one more holiday that takes on a deeper meaning once you have a child.

Sure the egg hunts and bunny pictures are way more fun with a toddler in tow, but it's more than that.

I get all that about Christ dying for me and I know that I will never be worthy of His love and grace. I do. But now? When I think about it, I think about it more than just what He did for me.

Now, I realize that He did that for EVERYONE and that everyone includes my sweet child.


Because He loves us, He paid the price for us. For me. For Mr. P. For her. She has hope in this life because He has already paid for her sins.

Wow.

It hit me as I sang in church tonight that He loves us that much. I would do anything for BG. Anything. Because I adore her. Because she's my world.

And Christ? Well He died for me.

Because He loves me that much. Because He adores me. Because I'm His world.

Kind of breaks it down a bit.

Happy Easter y'all. It's been a really, really good day here.

glory days.

I have to admit; I am sucker for a teenage/high school tv drama.

I own every season of Dawson's Creek, I tend to watch episodes of Glee numerous times each, Gossip Girl and 90210 clog up my DVR, and now that the hubs gifted the household with Netflix instant, my queue is blasted with old episodes of Friday Night Lights and One Tree Hill. I cannot get enough.

But I have to admit, sometimes watching these shows gives me a tinge of the sadness and brings out my emo side. I can't quite put my finger on why.

Maybe it's the fact that they're overcoming all these obstacles and shining in basketball games or at state regionals. Maybe it's the young love fresh with all those giggles and "does he like me?"s that only new love comes with. Maybe it's the group of best friends that you get to see all day every day while at school.

When I was in high school, I was told "everyone says that high school is the best time of your life, but they're wrong; college is". Then in college I heard "everyone says college is the best times of your life but they're wrong; your twenties are". When I was in high school, I was pretty sure that the life I was living was the best it could be, my glory days if you will. I would later find out that the best was still yet to come, but seventeen year old me had no clue that was the case.

It's not a good thing usually when someone is described as "peaking in high school". It tends to mean that those were your best days, the ones you still want to be in and therefore usually forfeit some of your present by living in the past. And while I definitely wouldn't say that I "peaked" in high school, I do tend to think of them as my "glory days".

Let's face it; I'm never going to rock a soccer field again. Numerous knee injuries, a hip injury, and way too loose ankles have killed that. I'm probably never going to walk the halls of a building and have nine out of ten people know my name and say hi to me. I had that time. It was freaking awesome, but it's done.

I think it's normal to miss those feelings. To miss the high you get after scoring the winning goal or acing a Calculus test. To miss the butterflies you got when the most popular boy in school wants to take you out on a Friday night. To miss the camaraderie of a group of friends that spend every day together at school but then want to be together on the weekends too. I just don't think it's good to dwell on it so much that you miss out on what's right in front of you.

Personally, I can't wait for the day that BG is old enough to listen to some of my stories. When I can tell her that her Mom was a pretty darn good soccer player and people knew it. How when she tore her knee just a couple of games into the season and was out the rest of her senior year, the coaches and other players' parents knew our shot at the championship that year was over. How I dislocated my shoulder in a game, ran to the sideline and had the trainer pop it back in and was back in the game in less than five minutes. I'll tell her about being prom queen and how much fun my best friends and I had living in our small town. Oh yea.. she's going to have to hear the stories.

While I'm glad I didn't "peak" in high school and while I did go on to college and play soccer a few more years and had even more fun than high school, I still think high school might have been my "glory days".



But were they? Just for grins and giggles, I set out to Goog*le myself the other day. It took hours (I do have the most common maiden name on the planet) but eventually I found the old articles about my soccer games and academic achievements and all that. Know why it took so long? Because they were in the archives of the paper y'all. The freaking archives.

They don't really matter anymore. Let's be honest, if you see me walking down the street these days, you're never going to think, "Heck, she looks like an awesome athlete!" or "man she must be super smart!". My soccer stats and my GPA will never be on my tombstone. They just don't matter anymore.

So were those my glory days? Or are they now?

Are they in how I raise BG? Are they in how I share Christ with others? Is this my glory days?

While the past was a blast (ha), it is just that; the past. It doesn't matter anymore. Yes, it helped shape who I am today but at the same time, if you spend too much time looking back, you'll miss something these days. That is not what I want to happen.

I had a good time. I did what I did well and was proud of myself. I'm still proud of myself. At the time, they were my glory days. But now? this life? this raising my child and forming a family with Mr. P? this is my glory days. And I fully intend to rock these as well.

a good-bye

Obviously I've taken a few days off and I'm going to take just a few more... You see, my sweet, sweet grandmother who has been battling cancer since June, has gone home to be with the Lord. My heart is a bit tender right now as my grandmother was one of the best people I had in my life and I just plain miss her. So I'm taking some time.

I'm thankful that she is healed for the first time since June and that is she in the arms of our Lord as we speak type, but it plain sucks being left behind. Please pray for our family as we move on from this.

a legacy.

Yesterday was an odd day for me.

I was ridiculously overwhelmed with stuff at work, missing home and friends like crazy, frustrated at situations beyond my control, and exasperated by the tantrums that have plagued our house as of late.

Sometimes I lose my cool with my daughter. I admit it.

Last night, Mr. P had to take her while I covered my ears unable to listen to one more high pitched squeal. I can't take it.

Fortunately I co-parent with the most amazing person on the planet. Where I am weak, he's literally strong. When I can't take the whining (seriously, it's like nails on a chalkboard to me), he steps in. When he loses patience over her asserting her independence, I step in because I so admire that trait and have more patience in guiding it.

I have zero clue what this little girl is going to grow up to be. Zero. Fortunately I believe that He does and I get to just watch as she becomes who she is already destined to become. I do hope though that her father and I pass onto her so many things through the way we are and the way we live.

I hope that she someday finds a man that makes her laugh and chases her around the house til she's crying with giggles like her father does me. I hope she sees him hug me and kiss me and know that's what a marriage should be. I hope she finds someone that she can bicker and carry on with and then laugh at how ridiculous they both are being.

I hope she's as hardworking as her father. I hope she has the drive to succeed that's instilled in him. I hope she has the fierce love for her family that he has for his.

I hope she laughs like I do. I hope it's loud and obnoxious and so joyful that others around her laugh with her just because its physically impossible for them not too. I hope people flock to her just because she's such a joy to be around.

I hope she has my book smarts and her father's common sense. I hope that she, unlike her Mom, can keep up with her keys, phone, and purse daily, but if she can't, I hope she can laugh at herself and promise to put them in the "same place next time" just like me.

I hope that she loves the Lord. I pray daily that she never struggles the way I did. I pray that she's never that broken or having to search that hard for the love that is right in front of her. I hope she gets up every day and reads the Bible her Dad leaves laying on the couch after his morning quiet time or the one I leave laying wherever I plopped down with my coffee. I hope she thirsts for that word and enjoys going to church with us each week.

I hope she has the heart her Dad has for other people and the one I have for animals. I hope she fights for the underdog like I do, sees the good in people like I do, but has the wisdom to see the bad n them like her father does. I hope she's slow to anger like her Dad and bites her tongue way better than her Mom.

Most of all, I hope she's happy. I hope the laughter that rings through this house gets into her bones. I hope she carries out her days with a peace that comes with the confidence in knowing that she is awesome. I hope she's secure in who she is and where she's heading.

I hope more than anything that she stays my best friend. I hope she stays her Daddy's "Princess. I hope that she stays faithful to the Lord. I hope that we leave an amazing legacy for her that she's proud to live up to.

nineteen

Faith is a funny thing.

This whole faith thing is huge. I struggle a lot with the overall concept of how great and how BIG our God is. I sometimes get caught up in the Him part of it which leads me down a path that overwhelms me. I don't always understand how a God that is so big really has time for me. I feel like sometimes what I have going on gets lost in the grand scheme of things that He's got going on.

Does this make sense?

When I was nineteen years old, a dear friend of mine committed suicide. The ramifications of his death messed with my head big time. I couldn't understand how a boy, who just two weekends ago was snuggled up watching movies in bed with myself and two of our other close friends, was now gone. And not just gone, but that he dipped out.

My best friends and I got together and drank way too much as we hosted an "Irish Wake" of sorts to remember him. We ended up sleeping slumber party style at one of our houses and got up the next morning (ridiculously bleary eyed) and said goodbye to one of us. It broke my heart.

I stayed in a fog for weeks. My faith was not strong at all at this point so I had absolutely nothing to lean on. Well, I did, but not the thing that I should have turned to.

Just a couple of weeks later, I got the call that one of my dear college friends had passed away in a car accident. I actually got that call while I was waiting for her call that she had made it home safely. As I sat in her church listening to Mercy Me's "I Can Only Imagine", I felt so lost. In a month, two dear friends of mine were gone. I couldn't deal.

A couple weeks later, I was involved in the worst car accident of my life. Details aren't important (well they are, but I still am not strong enough to share), but this accident was not one that I should have walked away from. It was bad.

But the most important sentence there is that I did walk away.

It took years and years for me to forgive myself for the fact that I survived when my friend didn't. It took that long for me to forgive my other friend for leaving. I couldn't understand why I was still here. Why I got to walk away when she didn't. I struggled with this big time for years.

The other night, my family was driving back home from Charlotte when "I Can Only Imagine Came On". To this day, it takes my breath away and makes me a nineteen year old girl with sweaty palms sitting uncomfortably in a church pew. As I sat there with Mr. Perfect driving next to me and BG sleeping in the back, my heart swelled. I looked outside at the stars and it hit me; this, this life, is why I walked away. And the reason I walked away is that BIG God upstairs, wasn't so busy that He didn't cradle me in His arms that night. He loved me that much. In the grand scheme of all the big things He was doing, He saw me.

Faith is a funny thing sometimes, but when you break it down, He's a big God who loves us. He's there. Big thing, small thing; He's there. Thank God for that.

5 Points

You know how every once in a while you hear a sermon that you know you were just meant to hear at that very minute?

Yea. That happened yesterday?

I wasn't having the greatest day yesterday. My feelings were hurt and I was tired and I was bummed that my husband had to work all day. Regardless, I put my big girl pants on and got BG and I ready for church. As I was sitting there listening to an incredible sermon on mothering, I felt like it was just the preacher and I in that room. That he was talking to just me because every single thing he said was hitting home for me. Everything.

Then I realized with one quick look around the room, that what he was saying was true for every mother in that room. The nods, the tears, the laughs, were coming from every woman who had stood up five minutes ago to acknowledge that she was a mother. It wasn't just me that felt the things he was describing, it was every mother there.

I don't know what I thought mothering was going to be. Honestly, I'm not too sure that I gave it any thought past birthing this precious babe and bringing her home to gaze at lovingly. And while the loving gazes did happen, so did the endless nights of crying, the feelings of loneliness, and the feelings of being completely overwhelmed.

I've been struggling lately with my faith and raising my child. I wonder every day how I'm going to raise a godly young woman in a society that tells her that is not cool and not the way to go. I wonder how to be a godly wife and mother so that she can see that through me. It's hard. It's hard to praise God constantly when mothering her everyday kicks my tail. When at the end of the day, the last thing I want to do is sing His praises because I'm too tired to talk.

Our preacher pointed out yesterday five things that every mother needs to know. They stuck with me so much that I wrote them down and took tons of notes to share with y'all. Every one of them touched on my deepest fears of being a mother which I'll also share. If you've never read anything else I've written, I hope you'll read this.

1: The Lord Is With You.
Basically what he said was that as alone as a Mother can feel at times, you're never ever completely alone because the Lord is with you. I'm not going to lie, I struggle with this one big time. I'm not sure that our husbands completely get it. Maybe not yet, not when the kids are this small. When my husband gets home in the evening, he wants to sit down and chill out. Or cook (he loves it, it's his release) dinner by himself in the kitchen. However, by five o' clock, I am for real jonesing for some adult conversation or better yet? someone to take the twenty six pound child off my hip for five minutes while I go lock myself somewhere quiet. The first few months of BG's life were so isolating for me. Every night, it was just me and her. Mr. P had gone back to work and was sleeping at night to get ready for work. Then during the day, we'd come home from work where I spent as much time as possible with her while he got dinner ready or what not. He just didn't get that I just needed him, to sit with me, not clean or cook or whatever. And for some reason, I never told him that. Even with him in the house, I was so lonely it hurt. Tell your husbands ladies. Tell them what you need. Next time? I won't feel like I have to do it all. I'll share the load, because he can handle it. And I can't handle not letting him.

2. Do Not Be Afraid.
Let's be honest, this mothering thing? Freaking hard work. And terrifying. Every single decision that we make regarding our child can be scary. Because we let it be that way. We're terrified that they aren't sleeping enough (or in my case that she sleeps too much), that they aren't eating enough, that we aren't feeding them the right food, that we're not using the right equipment. And honestly? Most of that comes to comparing ourselves to other Mom's. They breastfeed, I don't. They have the top of the line stroller and we don't. Stop doing that! As Mom's we should be building each other up. Not tearing each other down.

We're terrified our kids are going to get hurt. Uh duh. It's going to happen. The other day, BG decided to dive over the top of her PBK chair into a bucket of books. I just knew she lost an eye when she came up screaming bloody murder. Amazingly, just a small scratch (too close to her eye for my comfort though). I immediately felt like it was my fault. Why did I buy that chair? Why did I look away for two seconds??

That is so dumb. She's a kid. She's like a magnet for disaster. I better get used to it now.

I can't keep her safe forever. I can just provide her the very best I can and pray that God does the rest.

3. He/She Will Be Great.
The great thing is, her life is already mapped out for her. The first few years of her life (preacher said around the first ten to fifteen), I am in control. It's my job to lay out the ground rules of what I expect. I expect her to go to church, to read her Bible (duh, not now), to know God, to clean her room (again, later on), and to be a contributing member of our household. So while she's still young, I train her to do that. I lay out rules. But eventually, I will have to let go. It will be time for, as the preacher says, me to move from "control to influence". I lay the groundwork, she becomes a great woman. What is so, so awesome is that He already has an AMAZING plan for her. He's had it from the minute He wove her together in my womb. She's going to be great. Because He has designed her that way. So cut yourselves some slack ladies. These kids are going to be great.

4. Nothing Is Impossible.
There are some days I get so overwhelmed that when she lays down or even quiets down for a second, I dissolve into tears. There are some days when I wake up and think of taking care of her all day, cleaning the house, doing the laundry, taking care of the animals, checking the bills and I would rather go back to sleep than get out of bed and deal with it. Sometimes it's just too much. What's so great is that I'm not alone and that nothing is impossible with Him. Nothing. Mom's get overwhelmed. Show me a Mom that says she doesn't and I'll show you a liar. Working moms, stay at home moms, it doesn't matter. It's hard. Sometimes we need a good ugly cry. Take that cry, but then remember, it's not impossible. We'll get through this.

5. I Am The Lord's Servant.
It all boils down to this doesn't it? My job right now is simple. I stay at home to raise my child. Who actually, isn't my child. Who is on loan to me to make her into an incredible woman. I have no other job that this. It is the most important thing I will ever do in my life. Baby Girl? she is my legacy. I am doing His work in raising her. Isn't that awesome? Isn't that such a huge privilege??

I needed to hear all of that yesterday. I also needed to put it on here to look at over and over because just because I know all this, doesn't mean I still won't struggle. When she wakes up from her nap, she may wake up with smiles or she may wake up in a mood and I may forget everything I just wrote as I struggle to just hang on til Mr. P gets home. There will be days where I will still feel all alone or where I'll still feel like I just don't measure up.

There will also be days where she's an angel and the sun shines every single time she smiles. Days where I get a shower before lunch and we play quietly and happily until Mr. P gets home and we all head to the park together before a delicious dinner.

The good thing is, no matter what type of day we have, I've got someone pretty awesome on my side. And so do you.


**I'm not linking to my church on here for privacy reasons. However, this sermon is online and if you would like to hear it (which I recommend), please email me and I'll be happy to send you a link to the page. Thanks!**

BG's (second) First Easter

Baby Girl was born the day before Easter last year. Being as how last Easter was spent like this..

..we decided to go all out with the First Easter activities this year.

We headed to Mr. P's parents house for the weekend to spend some time with them. Unfortunately his brother was pretty sick and was in the hospital all weekend so a lot of our time was spent up there making sure he was okay. It wasn't the way any of us wanted to spend Easter but once he made a very good turnaround on Saturday, we were able to enjoy most of the festivities.

On Sunday morning, we got up and let BG check out her basket of Easter goodies. Mr. P and I weren't doing baskets for each other this year but I couldn't resist getting him a small basket of candy.



Which who am I kidding? I've already devoured half. Oops.

Mr. P, BG, and I went with my father in law to church and then headed to eat lunch with my mother in law at the hospital cafeteria. So not my idea of Easter lunch but whatever. BG pranced up and down the halls in her Easter finest eating up all the "oohs" and "ahhs" of the nurses and visitors alike.

After lunch, we met up with Uncle Marine and headed back to the inlaws for a little Easter egg hunt. BG fell asleep in the truck on the way over, so we let her nap in her carseat in the car while we put out the eggs and got ready for the big hunt.

Once she woke up, it was on. She didn't really get the whole putting the egg in the basket thing, but she loved picking them up and chewing on them. I can't wait to see her running around next year!








We had such a fun time and I'm glad Uncle Marine and her Granny could be there. They got such a trip out of her.

Afterwards we got packed up and ready to head home when we realized we had no clue where BG was...

So busted.


Before leaving we went out to a local restaurant to meet some of the Uncle's friends and people he works with. It's so weird having him in the same town as the in-laws now but it does make visits pretty convenient. BG adored hanging out with her uncle and even got to go out just the two of them for Chick-fil-a one night. I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that she has him wrapped around her little finger.

All in all it was a nice, quiet holiday. Hope everyone had a great Easter!

Easter

So someone obviously didn't love the Easter Bunny.

Which let's be serious, there's something super scary about a lifesize rabbit. I'm thinking our kids understand that better than we do..

I hope everyone has an awesome Easter weekend. This is technically BG's second Easter but we'll be celebrating like it's her first . Which will include lots of chocolate for the Mama. Score.

I'm so thankful for Easter. I'm so thankful for a Savior that died for me so that I can live this blessed life. I'm so thankful that I get to celebrate that I am Saved.

Enjoy your weekend! I pray that everyone has a Happy Easter!

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pasture vs. palace

This morning, Baby Girl and I managed to make it to our second service at one of the churches we've tried here in town. When we were there a couple of weeks ago, both Mr. Perfect and I both were very impressed with the praise and worship as well as the preaching. That Sunday, they were working through a study on David and this morning, I got to hear the final sermon of the study.

Something the preacher said this morning really stuck with me. He was talking about how if we can't praise God while we're in the "pasture" then we'll never get to the "palace". Let me see if I can break it down.

David spent many, many years as a young boy tending sheep before he ever became king. The whole entire time, he praised God. He wasn't dreaming of better things, he was praising in the time and circumstance he was currently in.

How many of us are guilty of always looking forward? We think, if we work this job we hate now, it will bring us riches in the future. Or we look at our neighbor who drives a better car, lives in a better house, or has better clothes and we long for our days when that will be us.

I personally know I am guilty of all of the above.

I've talked in depth with close friends about how I feel like right now, my little family has taken a step backwards. Meaning this; we got knocked out of our comfort zone when Mr. P lost his job last year. Big time. Fortunately he found a job very quickly, but now? We're in a new place, I left a great job (and currently don't have one at all), and sometimes it feels like we're sinking.

But is this our pasture?

Things worked out very, very quickly to get us to where we are right now. Doors not only opened, they flew open. I find it no coincidence that we are here right now. Maybe this is our time to just sit and be and try to figure out what God has in store for us next. This is our pasture. Our time of just praising God and doing what we need to to get by.

Let me break it down even more. Let's take them out of the picture and just talk about me.

Like I said, I left a great job to come up here. It made me crazy, but I was doing what I loved. Now I'm at home with Baby Girl everyday. It wears on me. Not going to lie. I have looked for work up here. I don't want to work all the time because my time with her is too precious, but I would like something just a couple of days a week.

But that hasn't happened. I literally have had not one lead. And it's hard. I've never looked this long for a job in my life. But something hit me while I was listening this morning.

This time that I currently have with my little girl is precious. I will never ever get this back.

Maybe the reason I haven't found something is that this is what I'm supposed to be doing right now. Figuring out how to live smaller and relishing every single second with my adorable little angel.

Things aren't as easy as they once were. It's hard being in a tiny apartment when we're used to our own house. However, these are some amazing days we're having. We laugh so, so much. BG is becoming a little girl in these walls.

This might be our pasture. But as long as we stay strong in our faith, as long as we do all this with each other, well, our palace will be amazing. In due time. Right now? I am loving where we are.

the reason for the season.

I'm not going to lie; I tend to get a bit depressed during the holiday season.

Sometimes those feel good Christmas carols send me into a crying fit. Sometimes the Christmas movies make my heart ache for hours. Even the sermons at church during this time can leave me feeling empty.

I'm just being honest.

I put a lot of pressure on Christmas.

A lot.

Last year I about ran my almost 7 months pregnant behind ragged trying to do everything I could to make Christmas perfect. I feel the need to buy the perfect gifts, make perfect cookies (which never happens), spend perfect time with family, be at every church service and Christmas activity possible, etc.

In all that business and trying to force myself to have the perfect holiday season, I lose the true meaning of Christmas.

I told myself that wasn't going to happen this year.

I was going to enjoy Christmas with my new baby girl in our home and sit by the fire and watch Christmas movies and decorate and just be.

But then Mr. Perfect lost his job and we moved to a town where we know no one and all our friends are hours away and our church that we loved is no longer ten minutes away. And we aren't in our own home. We're in an apartment with really noisy people living above us.

Sigh.

I find myself stressed to the max again. Those Christmas carols are making me cry. The Christmas movies are leaving me feeling empty and making me miss home so much it hurts. I can't find the perfect gifts and the ones I have found, we plain can't afford right now because of the whole two house situation.

I have completely let the real reason for the season get lost again.

I need to slow down. I don't want to raise my daughter to think this season is about the hunt for the perfect gift. I don't want her thinking she needs multiple packages under the tree to have a successful Christmas. I don't want her thinking she needs to cram the holidays full of activities to make it complete.

I want her to know that this time of year is to celebrate the birth of our Lord.

That's it.

I don't need a home with a fire going in the fireplace, or fifty friends around, or tons of presents under the tree in order to do that.

I just need Him.

Sometimes I need a swift reminder to chill out and refocus. I need to get my heart right and back in the real spirit of Christmas.

I think I'll go snuggle with my girl now.

happy thanksgiving.

We're in Small Town, SC to celebrate Thanksgiving with the Mister's family today.

Thanksgiving is yet one more holiday that means so much more now that the little one is here.

I am so, so thankful for so many things this year.

- For my incredible husband. For him being the leader of our household, an amazing father, a wonderful husband, and most important, a great man of God.

- For my daughter, who is without a doubt the best thing that has ever happened to me. She's made me love in ways I didn't even realize were possible. She makes my smile every time I look at her. She is my miracle and my angel.

- For jobs in this crazy economy. After our scare a few months ago, I praise God for blessing us with a job so quickly. And I praise Him for my new job (details on that later!).

- For my family. My parents are always beyond supportive and are two of the hardest working, most dependable people I know. They're actually going through a rough spot (could use some prayers) but they never stop loving us, loving Baby Girl, and loving each other. I love them.

- That my brother is home safe and sound. The war over there is scary and hits too close to home, but my little brother is safe and home where he belongs. Thank God.

- For my friends. The older I get, the smaller the group gets, but the more genuine the friendships are. They make me laugh til I cry and I know I can always count on them.

- For my blog/Twitter friends. You guys got me through the first few months of motherhood. You have no idea how grateful I we are.

- For blog friends who have become real life friends that I adore and love talking to.

- For my pups; who still love me even after how mean I've been the past few months. Sorry guys... :)

- For my (former) co-workers. It was so awesome to go to work every day and enjoy myself. As happy as I was to leave Savannah and get up to SC with my husband, I do miss my co-workers and my old job. (not the insane clients though)

- For my freedom and my country. Say what you will, we still live in the greatest country on the planet. And I still cry every time I hear "God Bless America".

- For maternity jeans, which I still wear. No shame. They are the most comfortable things on the planet.

- For my new boots. Because I love them.

So those last two were ridiculous, but I really am thankful for them!

Hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving!!

Love,

Getting Real.

Amy writes one of the blogs that I most consistently read and have read for years. Amy and her husband have been battling infertility for years, and she is one person I find myself praying for very often. Today she is offering up stories of encouragement to those of you out there that are waiting on husbands or children or whatever the case may be, and I thought I'd share a bit of my story you might not have heard before.

Mr. Perfect and I met, fell in love, and got married in a whirlwind. It was so fast, it literally made my head spin. In our first year together, we also found ourselves dealing with not one, but two, miscarriages and the repercussions of those losses. For a couple of people that had only known each other for a year, it was a lot to deal with.

Infertility is hard on a marriage. Very, very hard. Even though you go through it as a couple, it can also be a ridiculously isolating experience. I had so many fears about our miscarriages; was it me? Was it my fault? Was I going to be the reason my husband never got to be a father? Did I do something to deserve this?

I turned in on myself after my second loss. I could have cared less about myself, my marriage, or what I was doing to us as a couple. It was hard. In the middle of all that, we were moving all over the place, I missed home, my family, my friends, I was twenty two.. It was just too much..

Things got better and then we suffered our third loss. After that loss, we called it quits on trying to have a biological child. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't deal with getting my hopes up just to have the rug pulled out from underneath me. I couldn't deal with the pain of recovering from surgery. I was just over it. It was too much.

At the end of 2008, I began to push everyone away again. I don't know how Mr. Perfect put up with me as I went on a self destructive tangent. I needed everything to quit hurting and I couldn't find a way to make that happen. I ran from everything. I ran from church, from Mr. Perfect, from God, from my family... I just wanted a break.

Somewhere in my haze that was the end of 2008, I got pregnant again. Our relationship was on very shaky ground, but we came together for this child. We prayed over it and asked God to forgive us for who we had become. Right before I got pregnant, Mr. P had gotten saved and was a totally different man. He really stepped up to become the leader in our household. I fell in love all over.

We lost that baby at Christmas. I got saved in February.

Marriage is the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm not good at opening up at all and when you add in the recurrent pregnancy loss, well, it makes it even more difficult. I've gotten called out in emails before about how I portray my life as "perfect". Maybe I do. Because to me, it absolutely is.

After I got saved in 2009, it became so clear to me the damage I had caused. But somehow, I was forgiven for all of that. Mr. Perfect was still here, my marriage was better than ever, my family still rallied around me. God's grace was amazing and became even more so.

In August of 2009 I got another positive pregnancy test. And exactly 39 weeks later, I got my miracle child.

Y'all. She was so, so worth the wait.

I let you in on a darker side of this girl for one reason; there is always, always hope. I thank God that He watched over the two of us, even when we weren't listening to anything He had to say. I thank God that He is a God that forgives and always loves us, even when we don't love ourselves.

Life is hard. It's downright heartbreaking sometimes. I don't pretend to understand why we had four miscarriages. I don't say that it didn't just about kill me, because it did. But I made it to the other side. We made it to the other side.

And life is pretty much, almost perfect.

tuesday tidbits.

My mind is a mess right now. I am super stressed out but not quite ready to go into everything so.. bullet points will have to do today.

BG is officially sitting on her own. She will sit and play forever. She doesn't fall over anymore unless she leans way too far over to get a toy. Where is my baby?!?

I have not done anything physical this week. Wait. That's not true. I have walked to the pantry where the cookies are numerous times. Like too many to count. Operation Fattypants is a huge fail this week.

I'm feeling really unsettled here in this town right now. I know it all has to do with everything going on right now, but I am so ready to pick up and move. I. Is. Restless.

I am loving fall tv so far. Loving. DWTS is better than I thought it would be. Grey's started off slow, but I deeply love it so I will stick by. I actually like Desperate Housewives, although I'm not a fan of the Vanessa Williams character. And I thought Brothers & Sisters started off strong. I have so many shows currently hanging out in my DVR right now it's ridiculous Which shows are y'all loving so far?

Huge prayer request for Thursday. Mr. will be going out of town and the results are very, very important to this little family's future. I swear I will go more into detail when I can talk about it, but not there yet.. Just please say a quick prayer that all goes well.

I have so many drafted posts that I for some reason cannot get finished. I've lost my blogging mojo. Did I ever have blogging mojo?

Hope you're all having a great week. Thanks for the sweet comments, tweets, and emails. You guys seriously rock. I can't say enough how much I love my blogging/Twitter peeps!

25 weeks.

It's been quite a weekend. If you follow me on Twitter, I mentioned that our little family is going through a little trial of our own right now. Every family goes through them, and it seems our time is now. So we covet your prayers. If you have a minute, just throw up a quick one to the big man upstairs for us. We appreciate it.

I'll be back tomorrow.. Hope y'all had a great weekend!

baby dedication.

Yesterday we had baby dedication at the church, and Baby Girl was one of four little girls that was dedicated.

For any that don't know, Mr. Perfect and I are Southern Baptists. I know, I know. But try not to label us with all your typical "bible beating, super judgmental, uber strict" labels that Southern Baptists usually come with. We're not those people and fortunately we don't go to that type of church. Oh, and we can have fun too. Shattering stereotypes left and right here folks.

Our church believes that baptism must be one's conscious choice. Therefore, babies do not get baptized in our church. They get dedicated. Meaning, they are a gift from God given to their parents to raise. But we dedicate them back to God and vow to raise them to know and love Him. Just a little insight into our way of doing things.

My parents and brother both managed to come down for the weekend and all stayed with us. So on Sunday morning, Baby Girl and I got up and ate pretty early and then I hopped in the shower while she hung out with Pops and Uncle Marine. We had decided not to go to Sunday School that morning since we had some out of town friends meeting us at the house to go to church, so about nine a.m., BG melted down. Normally she would have slept at church during Sunday School, so keeping her out might not have been the best option.

Hind sight=20/20.


After getting her calmed down and Daddy got her dressed, we headed up to church.

We had some pictures to take beforehand, so we gathered our family (my parents, grandparents, Aunt P, and Uncle Marine) and went and did the smiling thing with Pastor. BG did awesome. Smiled and laughed and was her normal, adorable self.

I took BG to the nursery for the rest of the sermon. I was supposed to sneak out and get her during the invitation and then sneak back on. So I go pick her up and am walking back up the aisle during the invitation (also know as the quietest moment ever), and BG lets out this squeal of delight about halfway down the aisle.

I. Was. Mortified.

I booked it back to the back of the church where I waited until people were headed up to the pulpit and then we tried again.

During the rest of the invitation and on into the announcements, BG thought it was her job to entertain any and all people around us. I caught the eye of one of the other baby's dads and he was rolling laughing. Everyone around her was smiling at her, which just encourages her. Even Sophie couldn't make her stop laughing and cooing!

Finally we got to the dedication and BG was called up front.

She was a ham. She laughed, she cooed, she kicked and danced. I could hardly hold on to her. Clearly my child doesn't have a shy bone in her body. Pastor even remarked over how happy and outgoing she was.

Understatement.

The whole congregation was laughing at her, which just made her dance more! She is such a people person! We prayed over her and she received her certificate of dedication and a Bible. It was then time to move to the side and let the other three (younger, quieter) babies be dedicated.

BG smiled at the new set of people she was now standing in front of for a few minutes and then I felt her go limp.



Clearly the activity of the morning caught up with her because she slept through the rest of the dedication, pictures after, and getting loaded into the car to go eat. Baby was tired!

We went to a local bar-b-que place for lunch where BG got to hang out with the friends and family who came down for her big day. She also got to open some gifts and sit in the high chair for the first time since her parents forgot the infant car seat.

Good job Mom and Dad.

BG & Uncle Charleston- Dad's best friend since childhood.

Opening gifts... she's not spoiled at all!






BG chillin' out in a high chair for the first time. Yea.. she didn't love it. But seeing her sitting there at the table with us like such a big girl almost made me cry. She is getting too big way too fast!


We finally made it home where we took a few more pictures and hung out with friends for a while. Mr. Perfect and I are so, so thankful that we have such amazing family and friends in our lives, and that will now be in our daughter's life. We are so glad that so many thought it was important to come and stand up and say that they will be a part in making sure that she grows to know and love Jesus and to help make sure that she is raised living for Him. It was such a perfect, perfect day.

revival

We've had revival all this week at church which we somehow made it to every single day. Not that it was easy. It stormed every day, we're both working, and we've had visitors as well.

But we made it.

And I'm so glad we did.

Honestly, for the first time in a very long time, possibly ever, I am completely content. I have an amazing husband, an incredible daughter, a home, a job that is laid back enough that I still see my family a lot, my brother's home.. I can't think of one thing that I am not happy with.

I think that's when Satan hits me the hardest.

You see, when I'm going through a tough time, I pray daily. Sometimes multiple times a day. I beg God for help, advice, assistance with a need, whatever. I talk to Him a lot. I worship Him hard core in church. I listen intently to sermons to find a message for me.

When things are good?

I totally backburner Him.

I don't mean to, I just get caught up in how good things are and since I don't need anything, I don't pray to ask for things.

But this week I got a swift reminder that my job as a Christian is to always work on my relationship with God. Our preacher asked us how we can say we have a close, personal relationship with Him, when we don't spend time with Him. Very true. I've never managed to stay close friends with people that I didn't make the effort to talk to and hang out with.

It's also my job as a Christian to pray for others. Just because right now I'm not personally going through a trial (believe me it's coming..), I need to remember that others are. I have some friends going through very tough times right now. A friend that is separated from her husband and has two young kids, a friend that is struggling big time financially, and a friend who just lost her beloved son. It is my job to lift them up to the Lord daily, no constantly, in prayer.

I struggle a lot with my prayer life. I have the attention span of a flea and nine times out of ten I lose focus about eighty times while in prayer. I think of things that need to be cleaned, or work stuff, or what Baby Girl needs. That's not cool. I really need to work on having my prayer time be my quiet time with just Him. I need to focus.

Because while things are great right now, my trial is coming. It always does. I need to be constantly praising Him for the good things He is working in my life.

a moment of silence for Cohen