Dos Lily's....

If we all behaved like 2 year olds:

we would throw sand without warning

give hugs and snotty kisses without a trace of embarassment

hand our unwanted chewed food over to somebody like it is a gift

yell "mine!!!!" and "no!!!!" whenever we felt like it

love our friends without worrying if we will be loved back

have our mothers lead us naked across a beach access parking lot, hose us down with no dignity and think it was fun as heck

cry when we leave our friend we have been fussing at all day

talk incessantly about our friend to our mommy

say "I love Lily and Kayeee" as we fall asleep







Friendship is not about keeping score. It's not about who did what for whom, or who does more. It's about caring for all the small and big things, from how the chicken you made for dinner was to how you are coping with a loss. It is in saying "I'm thinking about you." and "What's wrong?" and wanting to know the answer. It is in comfortable silence and having so much to say you interrupt each other. It's about loving the same God and praying for each other. It's about not being afraid to say the things that with others would sound silly. It's about trust. And when it's good, it's effortless.

Kary, thanks for sharing your daughter with me. Thanks for the laughing. Thanks for following me into the bathroom that day and letting me cry. Thanks for the sandwich and the tent and the faux crocs. Thanks for loving my Lily. I'm so glad we met.

Ruins

I am utterly convinced that when we believe God is not listening, we are totally WRONG. I've been there. I've been at my wits end and felt alone and cried out to God and felt...nothing. Nada. No response. It's made me angry and disillusioned many times. But I've realized something today. Something pretty profound. Yes, I know, I know. It's gonna take me at least 3 praragraphs to get to it, cause that's just how I am. Get some coffee will ya? I'll wait.

Oh good, you are back. Let's see....

I've had alot of prayer time that involved my family. I've prayed for God to change them. I've prayed for God to change me to understand them. I've prayed for God to give me premission to cut ties. He has been very very silent on the subject, something that has, well, annoyed me. I just want answers. I want to know what to do. He's not willing to give them.

Until this morning, that is.

I was reading the beginning of Beth Moore's book "Breaking Free". I've never read her books, but I was drawn to this one, for reasons I now understand. You see, I have been desperatley hanging on to a "poor me" attitude. I may not always show it, but I pity myself for the family I have. And worse yet, I use it as an excuse to hold people at arm's length. I use it as an excuse to be angry and to have a mediocre walk with God. I use it as an excuse not to trust.

I've been struggling with this alot. Trusting is not my forte. Not even trusting God. Ouch. That hurts to write. Truth hurts.

So anyway, back to the Beth Moore book and my family. (I promise this will make sense in a minute...maybe) The book begins with Isaiah 61:1-4.


1 The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners, [a]

2 to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,

3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD
for the display of his splendor.

4 They will rebuild the ancient ruins
and restore the places long devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities
that have been devastated for generations.


Yeah, I know you just skimmed it. So go back and really read it. I'll wait.

Wow, right? "To whom much is given, much is expected" takes on a whole new meaning, huh?

Because we are believers, we are called on to do all of these things. We are to take our joy and hope to the world, and live it out.

But this scripture spoke to me on an even deeper level.

4 They will rebuild the ancient ruins
and restore the places long devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities
that have been devastated for generations.

That was an arrow right to my heart, my friends. My family has been decimated by drink. By anger. By unspoken words and disappointment. By lack of care. My father is ruined, my realtionship with my siblings almost non existant. I havent spoken to any of my extended family in years. I've never spent more than 10 minutes with my maternal grandmother. On both sides, for generations, there has been addiction, anger, violence.

God knew all this would happen. AND HE SET ME RIGHT INTO THE MIDDLE OF IT FOR A REASON.

Because I am a believer.

I have never prayed what I did this morning, kneeling on my bedroom floor in tears.

"Lord, if you have sent me into my family to restore it, I WILL. I will do what you ask of me. I don't know how, but I will do it. Because I love you and I want to be obedient to you."

Talk about opening a can of worms, huh? How is one person supposed to "rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated"? I don't know.

But He does.

Am I foolish enough to think I can do this on my own- heck no. Am I going to get my hopes up that my family will all be together soon singing "Kumbaya"? Nope. But I'm stepping out into trust. I'm stepping out and taking the hand of the One who has been so utterly faithful to me.

Because with Him, I cannot fail. I may never see my ruined family made whole again in my lifetime, but I may plant a seed. I may speak a word. I may be a catalyst.

And that is enough for me.

Thank you God, for the ruined city, and the faith to restore it.

It won't be like this for long...

It's been one of those days. When you pass your bedroom and look longingly at the bed, knowing you won't get to sleep for at least another 5 hours. When just a few tears from your little girl makes you tear up and cry yourself. When it's just hard.

I'd like to have some pearls of wisdom tonight, but I've run out. My brain is mush, my body all snuffly and icky and snotty and sore.

I'd really like to think I will get some sleep tonight, but I'm not hopeful.

But I came across something really amazing on another blog today, and it really touched me- porbably because it is so relevant towhat I am feeling.



As hard as these days are, one day I will look back and wish I had them back. So even when it's hard, and when it's tough, and when I want to quit, I won't.

Because it is ALL worth it.

Changes...

Somebody asked me the other day when my blog became a "God blog". I didn't know how to answer. I considered a few things, but they weren't very christian, so I simply said- when I realized I needed God and was going to seek Him.

The date- Jan 26th, 2009. The day there was no heartbeat on the sonogram.

The loss of my baby was a blow to me in so many ways. It brought up a tremendous amount of old emotion, like dredging up an old river. Many things floated to the surface I hadn't seen in a long time- things I repressed, things I forgot. Anger, bitterness, disappointment, enduring sadness. All of it rose up in me at once.

I was not prepared for the flood. It took me under.

I've been through alot. Things that are a given for alot of people weren't for me. Food, home, a place to sleep, safety. Through ALL OF IT I believed. I never stopped. Oh I got angry with God. I turned my back. I gave in to bitterness. But I believed in Him through it all.

Then I lost my baby. For months before hand I had called to him, and prayed for him. I spoke to him, asked him to come to us. Told him we were ready for him. Told him we loved him. I loved him before he was conceived. I knew him before he had a body.

And on a snowy Christmas Eve in Nebraksa, he was created. I thought that was so special. A Christmas Eve baby. I thought it was a sign. We would tell him when he was old enough of how he came to be. Mark and I would always know that he was made in love, after a day spent rejoicing in the birth of our Savior.

But it wasn't meant to be. And I was pissed off. I screamed at God, raged at him that how DARE he touch my baby??? How DARE he let him live to have a heartbeat and then take him???

And I have glided between anger, sadness, resignation and acceptance ever since.

But I realized something yesterday. Mark and I were leaving church, after a sermon that touched us both. We have been talking more and more about God, and our live spent in Him. We have been having long conversations about why we lost our baby.

In the car as we were going home I asked Mark if he thought we would be going to church if we hadn't lost the baby. He said no. I asked if he thought he would treasure Lily or our relationship as much. He said no. I asked if he would know how special a baby truly was and he said no. I agreed with him.

And I found myself saying "Then Joshua fulfilled his purpose, didn't he?".

And for the first time, there was no bitterness, or anger, or sadness in that. He came, and he left, but in so doing he healed Mark and I. He knitted us up together so close that we cannot ever see being apart. He made us treasure our Lily. He helped us to realize that when a new baby does come, we will KNOW what a gift it is.

And last but not least, he brought us both back to Christ. Fully. In word, deed, and spirit.

And all in all, that is a great accomplishment for such a little soul.

HE HAD A PURPOSE.

Am I still sad? Oh yes. But bitterness and anger are seeping away. My life changed on a dime the day we lost him. Things it may have taken us years to learn we learned in just a few short months. We are a different family now.

So here's the thing. My son is gone. I still mourn. But I am choosing to not write about him anymore. He is missed, and loved. I will think about him, always. But it's time to give myself rest.

So maybe this blog will keep being a "God blog". Or maybe it will go back to what it was- a mishmash of many things. Or maybe my 2 faithful readers will find somebody funnier and I will be tossing out my stories only to the blogosphere. I don't know.

Keep checking back. One day you might find the old me here. :)

Psalm 84

God has brought this Psalm to my mind over and over again. Now I've read it before, but not with eyes that truly understand. Not with a heart that melts into the words.


Psalm 84

1 How lovely is your dwelling place,
O LORD Almighty!
2 My soul yearns, even faints,
for the courts of the LORD;
my heart and my flesh cry out
for the living God.

3 Even the sparrow has found a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may have her young—
a place near your altar,
O LORD Almighty, my King and my God.

4 Blessed are those who dwell in your house;
they are ever praising you.
Selah

5 Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.

6 As they pass through the Valley of Baca,
they make it a place of springs;
the autumn rains also cover it with pools. [b]

7 They go from strength to strength,
till each appears before God in Zion.

8 Hear my prayer, O LORD God Almighty;
listen to me, O God of Jacob.
Selah

9 Look upon our shield, [c] O God;
look with favor on your anointed one.

10 Better is one day in your courts
than a thousand elsewhere;
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
than dwell in the tents of the wicked.

11 For the LORD God is a sun and shield;
the LORD bestows favor and honor;
no good thing does he withhold
from those whose walk is blameless.

12 O LORD Almighty,
blessed is the man who trusts in you.


How beautiful is that? This gives us such a picture of heaven, doesn't it? The idea that we would yearn so mightily to be with God. That our flesh would cry out for the living God.

The language of this Psalm is so beautiful, but the Valley of Baca in particular strikes me.

6 As they pass through the Valley of Baca,
they make it a place of springs;


Now in googling the valley of Baca, I found some interesting things. Some refer to it as the valley of tears, or the desert. Bakka is a real place, and most certainly lies in desert sand.

I can assume by this, that the valley spoken of is not an appealing place. I picture it as dry, barren, dark. A place of passing through. A place to get beyond.

So. This valley is one most would not willingly pass through. Uncomfortable. Barren. Dry.


Cause we've all been there, right? The valley? The place where we are dry. Where we can see no end. Where we are just trying to pass through- to get through?

But the believer, in passing through, makes it a place of springs.

Just by simple belief, the desert is changed. To a place of springs. Relief from the heat, water to the desert. Sustenance and drenching coolness where there was none.

Wow.

This Psalm holds so much joy for those who have experienced loss.

10 Better is one day in your courts
than a thousand elsewhere;

Can you imagine? A place of such beauty and rest and peace that it is better to spend just a few fleeting moments there, than to spend a thousand anywhere else? That is where my sweet Joshua is RIGHT NOW. With God. In the place all believers yearn for.

It makes Heaven so much more REAL to me.

But when I read this Psalm, I am always struck to tears by this passage:


7 They go from strength to strength,
till each appears before God in Zion.

They go from strength to strength. From moment to moment. From mountain to mountain.

Until they appear before God.

You can't have the mountain without the valley. And if we see our relationship with God as a journey, it's clear that we will have to go through both to get to Him.

Here's to a walk through the valley. To turning a place of barrenness into a place of lush beauty. Desert to springs.

From strength to strength.

10 reasons I know I have a toddler

1. By the end of the day, I have multiple stains on my clothing. Most of them I can't identify, some I don't want to.

2. The majority of things I say fall into two categories- "no, stop, be careful, uhoh, time out!!!" and "love you, you are my sweet girl, give me a kiss, thank you for the hug".

3. I can sing all of the theme songs to any show on Nick Jr.

4. I will sometimes fall asleep in the recliner like an old man. But most times I will wake up covered in stickers with a little girl giggling on my lap.

5. By the end of the day, I am exhausted. In that good, happy, and worn out way.

6. I ask God either for help in one breath, and praise him for my sweet girl in the next breath.

7. I look at pictures and know I have aged 10 years since Lily was born.

8. I find myself watching her and at all times trying to stay one step ahead of disaster.

9. Sometimes my heart is so full of love for her I want to cry, other times I want to set her on the curb.

10. I can hold her, fold laundry, make a phone call, kiss a boo boo and make a grocery list all at the same time.

Actual Conversation...

I stand behind my husband, taking perfect aim at his gigantic egg head. The hearty *thwock* of the orange hitting his cranium immediately makes me giggle and do the happy dance.

He turns to me, eyes wide.

"What WAS that?" he asks, rubbing his head.

I point to the orange now rolling around on the floor. Lily picks it up and hurls it at the dog. She giggles.

He looks at me like I am crazy.

"Dude, I've told you a hundred times! Use the RIPE fruit. The unripe ones hurt too much!!!!" then he goes back to doing dishes.

Duly noted, husband. Duly noted.

Resurrection

Easter is the most beautiful of all Christian holidays. It is the day we celebrate our Savior's triumph over death, and the fact that not only did He die for us, He allowed us to have eternal life through His death. It is the grandest lesson of renewal and rebirth.

As a christian, I have felt a taste of the Resurrection many times. In the beautiful up rush of feeling when I have strayed, and come back to welcoming arms. In the silence when I am weeping and God comes to sit with me. In the darkest of days when He comes with His light. In the times I have walked away and been pursued by a loving Father until I turned back to Him. All of them feel like resurrection, and a returning from the world to what is REAL. Death to new life. Walking through the darkness into the light.

I want to share a story with you, of when I personally knew God was a real, life giving Lord who was loving enough to save me from myself.

I was in the darkest of places. In a very bad marriage, away from all family. I was isolated and alone. I had very few friends. I worked from my home, and rarely left it's four walls. I was ashamed of my appearance. I was ashamed of who I was.

My mother had died two years before, and I was angry with God. I was bitter. I was angry with my mother for treating me so horribly when I was a child, and then dying. She never said she was sorry. She never acknowledged the wreckage she had made of me. She never acknowledged my pain. There was much unfinished between us.

I married a man that didn't love me because I thought he would. I married a man that hurt me, physically and emotionally. I married a man who cheated relentlessly, took all of the money, left me with no car and no ability to leave our home every single day.

Needless to say I was in a very bad place.

I had a friend who started attending a new church. She offered to take me with her one Sunday, and I accepted. They played the first worship song, and I knew every word was meant for me. I feel to my knees and accepted Christ back into my soul. It felt like an invasion in the best of ways.

I began searching for healing, actively seeking it out. Looking for ways to change my life. I was different in my soul, but something was holding me back from becoming fully whole.

I needed to forgive my mother. Let me tell you, my anger was profound and deep and ugly. It was hatred. It was cold and unrelenting. I did not know how to escape it.

My church was having a special healing service. There would be prayer, laying on of hands, and anointing for those who had need. I somehow felt drawn to go.

As I sat down in the back row I had every intention of just watching and slipping away. But a woman in front of me had other ideas. She kept turning to look at me. Finally she came over and held my hand. She told me she was watching me and a scripture about forgiveness came to her. She asked if I needed forgiveness, and I said yes, because I am a sinner. She smiled and said it was something deeper.

Everything in me was warring to not speak and open myself up. But the words flew from my mouth. "I need to forgive somebody."

She stood up and lead me to the front of the room near the altar. There we met a woman I didn't know well. She was blonde, round, and had clear blue eyes. She asked me what I needed healing for. The woman behind me spoke up. "She needs to forgive somebody."

I couldn't speak. I was trembling with fear. The woman looked deep into my eyes and laid her hand on my head. I closed my eyes to receive her blessing. She spoke swiftly, and the world faded away. All other noise ceased. I looked up into her face again, and I was looking at my mother. Brown eyes, short brown hair. Slim, wiry, rough hands on my face. Her scent, perfume and smoke and outdoors enveloped me.

It was her.

She pulled me close and hugged me tight. When she spoke, it was my mothers voice.

"I am so so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Please forgive me. I love you." Over and over, a litany of a mother's sorrow.

I broke as if I was a child. I cried hot scalding tears of sadness. My knees gave way and my legs buckled. I cried like a child- great wails with barely a breath between. I said "Momma" over and over.

And then the words I had never expected flowed from me.

"I forgive you."

The force of that pain and sickness leaving my body was enough to take my breath. I was held as I collapsed to the floor, held and prayed over as I cried. The woman holding me never ever let me go, even as I fell. She simply held on and let God work.

After I regained composure, I opened my eyes to see those that were there to heal gathered around me, praying. My pastor stood with his hand on my head, blessing me. He helped me up and led me to the window.

I stood and looked out at the parking lot, where a tree had been uprooted to make way for new asphalt. It lay on it's side, ugly, protuberous roots standing in the air. They were vast and mighty, nearly as long as the tree itself, and covered in dirt.

My pastor wrapped arm around me, and pointed to the tree.

"Do you see those roots? The ugliness, the disorder? They were so deep, way deeper than anyone would have known. They weren't visible to anyone. That is what unforgiveness is. It's a deep and ugly root. It starts with a single seed, and grows unrelentingly."

I nodded through tears.

He turned me to face him and looked me directly in the eyes. "That is what God just pulled from you."


That was my resurrection day. The day I gave up myself entirely to a God who has walked with me ever since. I love him enough to have faith that there was more to me than just anger and bitterness. I loved him enough to step out on my faith and let him be my guide. I became a new creation in all ways.


I have been blessed enough to experience firsthand how God can love me. I have been a witness to his grace many times. I have seen his miracle in my life. I have gone from a broken and bloodied child to a woman who is strong because He loves me and believes in my worth.

Easter is not just a day we celebrate a Man whom death could not contain. It's not just a day we celebrate the empty tomb. It's a day that we also celebrate that with Christ's resurrection, we as his children get to be resurrected as well. We get to be lifted high into a life we do not deserve. We get to be held and treasured by One that values us, even when our parents do not. We get to love the One who saves, who forgives, and who accepts us unfailingly.

And in the end, we get to live forever with Him, forever worship Him, and forever love Him.

Happy Easter.

Stillness...

I'm going to be taking an internet break. I have been online far too much, seeking comfort in things that bring me none. I have enveloped myself in stories of sick children, miscarraige websites, and blogging about my loss.

What I need is to be still and listen. I need to simply be quiet. I need to take the time to plant flowers, enjoy the warm sunshine, watch the trees bloom, and feel my loss...not through other's eyes, but through my own. Mine and God's.

I need to stop running and feel. Stop distracting myself and listen.

This has been on my heart since I read this post of Angies:

http://audreycaroline.blogspot.com/2009/03/canvas.html

I'm picking up the brush.

Take care friends. Much love.

No words necessary...

*pause music on sidebar*





"Jesus has overcome, and the grave is overwhelmed..."

Interconnected

It is not a group I want to be part of. It is not a sisterhood I want to participate in. At all. But I am here, in it.

I am part of the sisterhood of mothers who have lost children.

I have been struggling mightily with guilt over still feeling so sad. I knew of my baby for only a few short weeks. I feel guilt, like somehow it didn't matter because it was so early. I feel everybody is looking at me and expecting me to be done with it. And I am so far from being done. So so far.

I believe I will be done when I close my own eyes for the last time. Only then. Only then.

So many women have lost babies. So so many. I find out more and more each day. Women I would never have known of, who don't speak of or wear their loss.

This goes to show you that the old adage of being kind because everyone you know is fighting some sort of battle is so true.

And this is a battle on every front- spiritual, mental, emotional, physical. It affects the marraige. It affects your relationship with God. It's encompassing.

But through all of this, some beautiful things have emerged. I feel so much more connected with women in general. Motherhood is the first secret society I was ushered in to...this, the second. They are both so sacred, so profound, and so beautiful. They both can add such depth to the soul.

Today I raged at my husband. I raged, I screamed. I asked him why others get to keep their babies and I don't. I raised my voice to heaven and cried out to God. I sat quietly and listened to worship music while I planted flowers. I cleaned the house and cried silent tears while I vacuumed. I spoke to my sweet sweet boy.

And all of it, all of it, was sacred. All of it was necessary. All of it was cleansing.

I could go on and on about how the sadness rises up and bites and tears at me. I could write pages and pages on how my heart lies heavy in my chest and my eyes fill. I could tell you about how many times a day I ask God for peace.

I realized today how I have wronged so many women I know and love. How I shouted from the rooftops about my pregnancy. How I didn't take feelings of longing and sadness into account. I can say all of that now because I am seeing through new eyes. I am seeing through the lens of loss and pain.

I am interconnected with all women who have lost. I am connected with mothers who sit with empty wombs. I feel the pain of the empty cradle, the empty spot at the table. I feel the loss of life in my soul and body. Some days, it passes me by and I am okay. Other days are like this one- painful. Everything is a reminder. Everything is out of reach.

But through it all, I have my husband. I have my baby girl. I have my friends. And I have my God.

And, when there are days like this I have scriptures that fill me up and make me beleive that tomorrow will be better.


May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13

Momentary

I feel misunderstood.

I feel wasted.

I feel as if I will never get past this sadness. Will I never feel myself again?

Loss has been a part of my life all my life. I've gotten to be very adept at bouncing back.

But this is just beyond me. Everywhere I turn there are reminders. Damnitt. I hurt and there's no outlet. Nobody feels this like I do. It's only me.

I will be the only one who remembers him.

On one hand, I feel like I should be over this by now. Past it. I feel like everyone is looking at me and expecting me to be the same person I was, but I'm not. Sure, I am happy alot of the times. I am distracted. I am busy.

But when the sadness hits, it is a mighty wave. Mighty and strong, and it pulls me under.

I don't want him to mean nothing. When people ask me if Lily is my only child- what do I say? We've had losses before, Mark and I...but never this late in the pregnancy. Never to the point that I would pass my child from my body and see it for what it was. I don't want him to be anyone's afterthought.

In the real world, life goes on. People forget the loss. That's expected. It's normal.

But they expect ME to get past it too. And I can't. Not yet.

Our vacation was fun. We laughed, we ate, we rode a thousand rides and walked a thousand miles. But he was always there, in the back of my mind. On the first day we let Lily pick out a stuffed animal.

Guess who she picked?



Roo. Sweet little baby boy Roo. In his little blue sweater. He went with us everywhere, she slept with him, took naps with him. Had she ever shown interest in him before- no. In some small way, I knew it was Joshua, letting me know he was there.

I'm all over the place here, I know. My mind is heavy with thoughts, my throat choked with tears. I long, I yearn. I miss, I grieve.

But I also KNOW I am being held. I feel it, even as I feel sadness and envy and mourning. My pain has purpose, it is molding me and remaking me into a better woman, and a better Christian. Pain is a great redeemer, suffering a teacher. But in the end, when I close my eyes the last time, I know I will find my boy. And he will be...he will be all I am longing for. I will know his face and his soul and his heart. I will sit with him. I will touch his hands and his hair. And I will spend eternity with him.

This life, after all, is momentary. Heaven, infinite.


Psalm 84

1 How lovely is your dwelling place,
O LORD Almighty!
2 My soul yearns, even faints,
for the courts of the LORD;
my heart and my flesh cry out
for the living God.

3 Even the sparrow has found a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may have her young—
a place near your altar,
O LORD Almighty, my King and my God.

4 Blessed are those who dwell in your house;
they are ever praising you.
Selah

5 Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.

6 As they pass through the Valley of Baca,
they make it a place of springs;
the autumn rains also cover it with pools. [b]

7 They go from strength to strength,
till each appears before God in Zion.

8 Hear my prayer, O LORD God Almighty;
listen to me, O God of Jacob.
Selah

9 Look upon our shield, [c] O God;
look with favor on your anointed one.

10 Better is one day in your courts
than a thousand elsewhere;
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
than dwell in the tents of the wicked.

11 For the LORD God is a sun and shield;
the LORD bestows favor and honor;
no good thing does he withhold
from those whose walk is blameless.

12 O LORD Almighty,
blessed is the man who trusts in you.

Come Father...be near.

Home

There's no place like it. Nowhere can be better than your own piece of heaven on earth- the home you create. The place where everything is as you chose it, your babies can sleep warm in their won beds, and you are comfortable.



I learned many things on this trip- here are my top ten:

1. In a humid climate like Orlando, you will sweat even at 70 degrees. Sweating and a dress leads to chafing. This is very unpleasant and you will waddle...alot.

2. Powder is your friend. (see number 1)

3. When you hear couples sniping at each other and yelling at their kids as you arrive in Disneyworld, you will be judgemental.

4. 7 days later, you will BE THOSE EXACT SAME PEOPLE.

5. Toddlers, even the very adaptable ones, do not like their schedule screwed with.

6. Disney is a well oiled machine. It works tremendously, and they have thought of everything.

7. You pay ALOT for this well oiled machine.

8. You will end your vacation knowing every single penny was well spent. Except the 7 dollars you paid for a plain old helium balloon in the Magic Kingdom. Now that's just plain ridonkulous.

9. Seeing Cinderella's castle through your little girl's eyes will change you. You will cry when she meets the princesses. You will cry when her eyes light up with wonder again and again.

10. In the end, all of the waiting in lines, heat, chafing, money, swollen feet, money, messed up schedules and money will amount to some really really great memories.


On another note, it seems every woman I saw in Disney was pregnant. While I was there, I saw a friend of mine post on facebook that she will be finding out the sex of her baby today. She and I were due just days apart. My heart was so heavy with sadness as I walked with an empty womb through the happiest place on earth. It still is. Tears like a river lie unshed, my throat gets a lump in it, just thinking of it. I'm so happy for all of my friends that are moving on with their families, but God I feel so far left behind...and so burdened with sadness. When will this end? When will I stop feeling such pain and sharp envy when I hear of a pregnancy or see a woman heavy with life? When will it be my turn Lord?

If you can spare a few prayers for me, I sure could use them. The sadness is catching up, and I am unraveling.

Thanks, friends.

B