Easter

Easter weekend we were busy, busy, busy.  Among other things, we went to an Easter brunch and egg hunt.  And of course, Silas participated to the best of his ability.  We have some ADORABLE pictures of him sitting in the middle of the other kids during the resurrection eggs.  He was a great listener, and never actually got sat on or trampled during the entire presentation.  Here he is huntin' eggs.  He mostly just latched onto the first shiny one he found.  Which, coincidentally, had a Ghirardelli chocolate inside.

We also went to the Botanical Garden in Fort Worth.  Which was free, and very crowded and full of weddings.  Like everyone else there, we took many many pictures.

Change

Zephan and I do a lot of praying.  Never as much as we should, but there are some big aspects of our life that we know can only happen with action on God's part. So we pray.

Sometimes I get discouraged, thinking God is sure taking his sweet time to answer our requests.  All of our worries center around these few things—surely he knows how I long for him to show us his love for us by diving into our lives and lifting our burdens.  I get stuck and begin to think that maybe I'm not doing something right—my formula is off.  Maybe I'm not praying hard enough, maybe I need to do a fast, maybe I'm not marking off enough of those check boxes for the Christian life.

But stop. Wait a minute. God doesn't do formulas. His love and grace is completely free. It doesn't need to be earned.  It can't be earned.  Somewhere along the way, I've subscribed to the belief that if I'm good enough, God will respond to me with blessings.  And I've really been trying to get out of that rut.  It's me who needs to the responding. When I feel out of sync in my prayer life, it's not because I'm not doing something right, but I'm not thinking something right.

I hit a breakthrough yesterday.

We've had issues with Silas's sleeping patterns lately.  While Z was in Africa, my maternal sustainability relied on Silas taking naps with minimal work on my part. So we worked our routine, and he got really good at falling asleep whenever I laid him down.  It was magical. Since his Dad's return our routine has gone a bit out the window, but Silas was still doing pretty well.  Until last week.  Last week, he started wailing the moment his head touched the pack 'n' play.  Every. time.  And there was no letting him cry it out.  He would cry for hours with no sign of giving up. And so we ended up walking him and nursing him to sleep, something I know I cannot sustain on a long-term basis.  It was very frustrating.

Every time I've laid him down since this started, I've said a short prayer. "Please, let him fall asleep. Please, let him fall asleep." These prayers had gotten increasingly desperate and decreasingly hopeful. They more of a "well, you never know what might happen, I may as well try" kind of thing.  And so yesterday, I found myself doing the bargaining thing.  "God, what do I need to do? If I take time to read my Bible, will you make him fall asleep?"

As soon as the thought entered my head, I experienced a spiritual shaking of sorts.  No! This is not of God. These prayers are not of God. I am asking for the wrong thing. So I stopped, looked in the mirror, and prayed much more sincerely. God, give me the patience and wisdom to deal with this.

I swear, not a minute later, I thought I might try moving the pack 'n' play into a different room.  I took my crying son out of his bed, moved his bed as he continued screaming, placed him back in the bed, and shut the door.  Three minutes later: sweet, sweet, silence.  Hallelujah.

All this to say that I have a new resolution, one that I'm hoping will pull me out of this prayer rut.  I'm changing my thinking, about small things like sleeping babies and about big things like moving and budgeting.  Instead of asking for God to change my circumstances, (God, provide money for our ministry.  God, make our decisions for us. God, I need ____ to feel happier and more content. God, change how my husband is leading our family.) I'm going to ask him to change me. (God, help me be thankful for what you give us. Give us wisdom to make decisions. I want to find my happiness in you. Help me follow my husband where you lead him.)






This helps me think about these verses, and makes them a little more achievable:

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. I John 4:18

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength. Philippians 4:12-13

One Month Photos

We've finally gotten these pictures that our friend Mark took last month all sorted through, and we're ready to share!  There are a ton of them, but here are some of our favorites:

Advice

All new mothers should live in someone else's basement.  Especially when that someone else includes a stay-at-home mom with six children.  Because someone always there to hold the baby while you do laundry or go to Sonic really makes motherhood something grand.

Little Guy

Our son Silas was born twelve days ago, a whopping 12 days late. He was born in style--in a cabin out behind the wood shop, right next to the most productive garden I've ever seen.  While I hung out in the whirlpool, our midwife and her helper were in the kitchen peeling peaches and chatting in German. We all stopped in between contractions to pray together when the pushing got rough. 

I could include all the gory details, but chances are I'd never finish this post if I did.  Our birth was great almost every way, but following the birth things got a little rough.  But thank God, we made it.  We are still making it.

In the end, I must say that this little guy is my greatest accomplishment.  Waiting for him to arrive was the hardest thing I've ever done.  Giving birth to him was the hardest thing I've ever done.  Recovering from giving birth, tearing, postpartum hemorrhaging, and a very rough start at breastfeeding was (and still is) the hardest thing I've ever done.

But things are looking up: I can scoot around and change positions in bed all I want.  I can hold and maneuver him with ease.  I no longer dread going to the bathroom.  I can breathe and walk at the same time.

I'm thankful for all of these things, for my wonderful husband (who didn't let me change a single diaper for a whole week), and for our future together as a family.

Nesting

I've nearly run out of things to do in preparation for the arrival of our kiddo.  Everything's clean.  Everything's packed.  Our car has functioning seat belts.  Most of my MFW jobs are as complete as they have a hope of being.  There's food in the freezer for lazy days to come.

Thanks to a well-placed phone call this morning, though, I have one project left.  Rolla-Mom and I took a break from work this morning to go to a yard sale where three ladies were unloading all of their baby stuff.  Unfortunately, their most recent babies were all girls.  If I knew I was having a girl, it would have been a problem.  All the clothes were SO cute and in SUCH good shape.  I would have had a hard time restraining myself.  As it was, I picked out all of the plain and yellow things and grabbed one or two especially cute girly things just in case.  I also got a Rubbermaid storage thing with three drawers, so now I actually have a place to put all the cute baby accessories we've been accumulating.  So now I can find logical, convenient places for things.

And also, I need to quilt my baby quilt, and I can't find a leather thimble anywhere in Rolla.  I have one last place to look, or I'll be going back to WalMart to get the next best thing.