This morning while Bryson and I were eating breakfast he left for a minute and went into his room. A short time later he came out in a pair of hand-me-down jeans that must have been stuck in his drawer. I said "Hello there Mr. Handsome." A huge smile spread across his face, then he lifted up his shirt, looked at the jeans, and looked at me. With the most serious expression I have ever seen he said "Are these my jeans or Daddy's?"
I had to work late this evening and Jason made a comment that he wished I was home. Bryson looked at him and said "It's okay Daddy. I will take care of you."
This evening Bryson told Jason that Halle is really sad. When Jason asked him why she is sad he said "because she wants Aiden and Maddie to come over and play."
Jason was out of town on business last night. Bryson wet the bed {for the second time in his entire life} so I changed his clothes and ended up putting him in bed with me for the rest of the night. Tonight when he was going to bed he told me that he wanted to sleep in my bed. I told him that he only got to sleep in my bed because he had an accident and went pee pee in his bed. He looked at me and said "I think I'll go pee pee in my bed again tonight." Then he just laughed and laughed. We are in trouble!!!
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
Not my words...
...but definitely my thoughts!This is a recent blog post from Jen Hatmaker. She is the one who wrote the book "7" that I might be slightly obsessed with. :) Anyways, I came accross this blog post and thought that she summed it up so well. Read on...
In the Basement by Jen Hatmaker
I lived in Kansas from 8th-12th grade. In that time, I became well acquainted with Mr. Tornado and all his little friends: Siren, Tornado Watch, Basement, and False Alarm.
In April of my junior year, our house was hit by a tornado. The end of our street was flattened; we lost our fence and roof and trees. And evidently I lost my sense of security (21 years later, and I still have a tornado nightmare about once a month).
The most visceral memory of that day was crouching in the basement with my family and friend, Andrea, as we heard the tornado approaching. Everything started shaking, and the sound grew until it was deafening. I remember looking at my sister, both our mouths open, screaming, and we couldn’t hear each other. We were inside a train engine.
I’ll never forget hunkering down in the basement while the storm raged overhead.
This is precisely how I feel about the Chick-Fil-A debacle and all the other accouterments of the culture wars. I am so over it. I’m so over the fear mongering and hate propaganda. I’m over the political posturing and power plays. I’m over the finger pointing and name-calling. The storms are raging overhead, and let me tell you something:
I’m going to the basement.
This is obnoxious. So a business leader is no longer entitled to an opinion, even one that roughly half of America shares? Is that where we’re at? Now the mayors of Boston and Chicago and San Francisco are suggesting Chick-Fil-A be denied permits in their cities, and just like that, a hot-blooded difference in personal opinion – not lewd remarks, not discriminatory actions, not company policy – has turned into punitive legislation.
Mayor Bloomburg, also a supporter of gay rights, condemned the statements, saying “cities should not ask about political beliefs before issuing a permit.” Of course they shouldn’t. Where would it end? The CEO of the Phoenix Suns is gay; shall we all boycott their basketball games or deny their right to play in the public sphere? Is it time to quiz small-business owners on their positions on gun control, abortion, and immigration reform, and decide if their companies are “welcome in our cities”?
Because this will swing every way, you know. Perhaps Chick-Fil-A is banned in Boston, but we will also stand by if a Muslim business owner is banned from operating in Huntsville, Alabama? Mark Zuckerberg is an atheist; should Christians all delete their Facebook accounts? This affront to democracy is infinitely more dangerous than a CEO with an opinion, which, if you’ve ever paid attention, we are supposed to have the freedom to hold and express in this country without threat of commercial retribution.
Truett Cathy is a citizen; he has a right to an opinion. He gets to have that. He isn’t peddling theology…his currency is the Spicy Chicken Sandwich. There are certainly tens of thousands of gay folks who work for and patron CFA. No one has ever been asked to procure proof of their heterosexuality before dipping into their Polynesian sauce.
If you don’t like his personal policy, don’t eat there. Problem solved.
And lest you unfairly brand me as a mouthpiece for the right, I hate the culture wars on both sides of the party line. Christians, do you really think posting pithy statements on Facebook about “standing firm in our values” and “resisting the liberal media” is helping? The lines we draw in the sand do absolutely nothing except assure everyone else: YOU’RE OUT. When we turn to politics and power to legislate our brand of morality, we take the opposite approach of Jesus whose power was activated in the margins with the outcasts...humbly...peripherally.
I’m sick of the Jesus forwards and judgment. Sick of majoring on gay marriage. Enough, everyone. With every hate Tweet and finger jab and Bible bludgeon, you are telling my gay friends they are indeed unwelcome, unloved, unvalued, and uninvited. If your agenda is to battle homosexuality, how’s that going? How many gay folks read your Prop 8 yard sign, knocked on your door, and said, “Thank you for voicing your opinion to the neighbors in this manner. Would you kindly invite me in and teach me how to be straight? And do you have a Bible study I can join?”
When we resort to the same tactics being leveled at Truett Cathy, we sink to the least common denominator and – this is important – we make everything worse. How are these culture wars working out for us? Well, the church is losing around 50K folks a week, and the next generation downright refuses to come. The gay community is ostracized entirely (oh, they’ve gotten the message alright), and Christianity has turned into white noise.
Digging our heels in even harder is the problem, not the answer.
Love is, if you believe anything Jesus ever said or did.
Everyone is screaming and swearing at each other, pointing fingers and posting clichés on Pinterest. The storm is out of control. What happened to civil discourse? What happened to basic human respect? What happened to good men and women pulling up a seat at the table together and navigating differences with dignity and regard? What happened to listening? What happened to humility?
I'm done. I’m going to the basement, and I invite you to join me. Here is what we hate down in the basement:
We hate injustice.
We hate our own sin and pride and arrogance, and we grieve at how it has wounded, sliced, slashed, and humiliated.
We hate that 25,000 people will die today of hunger and we’re arguing gay marriage again.
We hate how the Gospel has been turned into a bludgeoning tool.
We hate pointless arguments that widen the gap and devalue real human people.
We hate abuse and violence and crowded orphanages and trafficked sixth-graders.
And it’s not all hate, lest you imagine the Basement Dwellers are a sorry lot indeed. We love some things down in the basement, too:
We love people. Because Jesus does. All of them.
We love grace, because it rescued all of us sinners.
We love healing and redemption, and we get to be a part of that every day, if we are brave enough to say yes.
We love that Jesus uses broken people, because that is our zip code and He chooses us anyway. Mercy is our only sane option.
We love the Body of Christ, when she isn’t being a bully or a tyrant or trying to take over the Oval Office and the Red Carpet. I swear, she can be beautiful.
We love Jesus, who was always in hot water with the religious folks for eating with sinners and offering scandalous grace not just to the leper but to the tax collector.
We love love, and we believe in its power.
If you are weary of the storm, come on downstairs. We’re going to get on with the business of loving people and battling real injustices and caring for the poor and loving Jesus. We’re going to go ahead and offer mercy to one another, even if it is viewed as “soft” or “cowardly” or “dangerous.” (But once I conquer all my own demons definitively, I’ll be happy to turn a critical eye on everyone else’s. Good?) We’re going to trust that Jesus is actually at work in this world like He said, and when he promised that “His kindness leads us to repentance,” we’re just going to believe Him.
Sure, the storm will rage on up there. But you can find refuge just down the stairs. We have a whole thing going on underground. Gay friends and family, you are welcome down here. Marginalized women, come on down. Isolated and confused by organized religion, afraid your questions aren’t welcomed? Join us. Activists and bleeding hearts, you are our heartbeat. Plain, old, ordinary sinners saved by grace, you belong here. Misfits, ragamuffins, and rebels, bring the party. Reformed legalists, you are my people. Pastors contending for God’s glory and people, help lead us. Dissenters, dreamers, visionaries, we need you.
Come on down to the basement. I ordered a Chick-Fil-A nugget platter.
In the Basement by Jen Hatmaker
I lived in Kansas from 8th-12th grade. In that time, I became well acquainted with Mr. Tornado and all his little friends: Siren, Tornado Watch, Basement, and False Alarm.
In April of my junior year, our house was hit by a tornado. The end of our street was flattened; we lost our fence and roof and trees. And evidently I lost my sense of security (21 years later, and I still have a tornado nightmare about once a month).
The most visceral memory of that day was crouching in the basement with my family and friend, Andrea, as we heard the tornado approaching. Everything started shaking, and the sound grew until it was deafening. I remember looking at my sister, both our mouths open, screaming, and we couldn’t hear each other. We were inside a train engine.
I’ll never forget hunkering down in the basement while the storm raged overhead.
This is precisely how I feel about the Chick-Fil-A debacle and all the other accouterments of the culture wars. I am so over it. I’m so over the fear mongering and hate propaganda. I’m over the political posturing and power plays. I’m over the finger pointing and name-calling. The storms are raging overhead, and let me tell you something:
I’m going to the basement.
This is obnoxious. So a business leader is no longer entitled to an opinion, even one that roughly half of America shares? Is that where we’re at? Now the mayors of Boston and Chicago and San Francisco are suggesting Chick-Fil-A be denied permits in their cities, and just like that, a hot-blooded difference in personal opinion – not lewd remarks, not discriminatory actions, not company policy – has turned into punitive legislation.
Mayor Bloomburg, also a supporter of gay rights, condemned the statements, saying “cities should not ask about political beliefs before issuing a permit.” Of course they shouldn’t. Where would it end? The CEO of the Phoenix Suns is gay; shall we all boycott their basketball games or deny their right to play in the public sphere? Is it time to quiz small-business owners on their positions on gun control, abortion, and immigration reform, and decide if their companies are “welcome in our cities”?
Because this will swing every way, you know. Perhaps Chick-Fil-A is banned in Boston, but we will also stand by if a Muslim business owner is banned from operating in Huntsville, Alabama? Mark Zuckerberg is an atheist; should Christians all delete their Facebook accounts? This affront to democracy is infinitely more dangerous than a CEO with an opinion, which, if you’ve ever paid attention, we are supposed to have the freedom to hold and express in this country without threat of commercial retribution.
Truett Cathy is a citizen; he has a right to an opinion. He gets to have that. He isn’t peddling theology…his currency is the Spicy Chicken Sandwich. There are certainly tens of thousands of gay folks who work for and patron CFA. No one has ever been asked to procure proof of their heterosexuality before dipping into their Polynesian sauce.
If you don’t like his personal policy, don’t eat there. Problem solved.
And lest you unfairly brand me as a mouthpiece for the right, I hate the culture wars on both sides of the party line. Christians, do you really think posting pithy statements on Facebook about “standing firm in our values” and “resisting the liberal media” is helping? The lines we draw in the sand do absolutely nothing except assure everyone else: YOU’RE OUT. When we turn to politics and power to legislate our brand of morality, we take the opposite approach of Jesus whose power was activated in the margins with the outcasts...humbly...peripherally.
I’m sick of the Jesus forwards and judgment. Sick of majoring on gay marriage. Enough, everyone. With every hate Tweet and finger jab and Bible bludgeon, you are telling my gay friends they are indeed unwelcome, unloved, unvalued, and uninvited. If your agenda is to battle homosexuality, how’s that going? How many gay folks read your Prop 8 yard sign, knocked on your door, and said, “Thank you for voicing your opinion to the neighbors in this manner. Would you kindly invite me in and teach me how to be straight? And do you have a Bible study I can join?”
When we resort to the same tactics being leveled at Truett Cathy, we sink to the least common denominator and – this is important – we make everything worse. How are these culture wars working out for us? Well, the church is losing around 50K folks a week, and the next generation downright refuses to come. The gay community is ostracized entirely (oh, they’ve gotten the message alright), and Christianity has turned into white noise.
Digging our heels in even harder is the problem, not the answer.
Love is, if you believe anything Jesus ever said or did.
Everyone is screaming and swearing at each other, pointing fingers and posting clichés on Pinterest. The storm is out of control. What happened to civil discourse? What happened to basic human respect? What happened to good men and women pulling up a seat at the table together and navigating differences with dignity and regard? What happened to listening? What happened to humility?
I'm done. I’m going to the basement, and I invite you to join me. Here is what we hate down in the basement:
We hate injustice.
We hate our own sin and pride and arrogance, and we grieve at how it has wounded, sliced, slashed, and humiliated.
We hate that 25,000 people will die today of hunger and we’re arguing gay marriage again.
We hate how the Gospel has been turned into a bludgeoning tool.
We hate pointless arguments that widen the gap and devalue real human people.
We hate abuse and violence and crowded orphanages and trafficked sixth-graders.
And it’s not all hate, lest you imagine the Basement Dwellers are a sorry lot indeed. We love some things down in the basement, too:
We love people. Because Jesus does. All of them.
We love grace, because it rescued all of us sinners.
We love healing and redemption, and we get to be a part of that every day, if we are brave enough to say yes.
We love that Jesus uses broken people, because that is our zip code and He chooses us anyway. Mercy is our only sane option.
We love the Body of Christ, when she isn’t being a bully or a tyrant or trying to take over the Oval Office and the Red Carpet. I swear, she can be beautiful.
We love Jesus, who was always in hot water with the religious folks for eating with sinners and offering scandalous grace not just to the leper but to the tax collector.
We love love, and we believe in its power.
If you are weary of the storm, come on downstairs. We’re going to get on with the business of loving people and battling real injustices and caring for the poor and loving Jesus. We’re going to go ahead and offer mercy to one another, even if it is viewed as “soft” or “cowardly” or “dangerous.” (But once I conquer all my own demons definitively, I’ll be happy to turn a critical eye on everyone else’s. Good?) We’re going to trust that Jesus is actually at work in this world like He said, and when he promised that “His kindness leads us to repentance,” we’re just going to believe Him.
Sure, the storm will rage on up there. But you can find refuge just down the stairs. We have a whole thing going on underground. Gay friends and family, you are welcome down here. Marginalized women, come on down. Isolated and confused by organized religion, afraid your questions aren’t welcomed? Join us. Activists and bleeding hearts, you are our heartbeat. Plain, old, ordinary sinners saved by grace, you belong here. Misfits, ragamuffins, and rebels, bring the party. Reformed legalists, you are my people. Pastors contending for God’s glory and people, help lead us. Dissenters, dreamers, visionaries, we need you.
Come on down to the basement. I ordered a Chick-Fil-A nugget platter.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Words to Remember
Overheard during what is supposed to be nap time around here...
Bryson: Where's Daddy?
Me: Running errands.
Bryson: Oh! Is he going to see Mykah and Karsyn?
Me: No- running erranDs- like going to a few stores.
Bryson: Oh. Are you sure he's not driving?
Bryson: Where's Daddy?
Me: Running errands.
Bryson: Oh! Is he going to see Mykah and Karsyn?
Me: No- running erranDs- like going to a few stores.
Bryson: Oh. Are you sure he's not driving?
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Thank you, Lord!
I just read this, and I just have to share.
A while back Heather told me that she had found a blog. The blog is called "Our Caroline Grace." That isn't even the craziest part! It turns out that another couple had a sweet little girl, who had a neural tube defect, who was born on December 15th (so shares a birthday with our Caroline Grace), who also named their precious baby Caroline Grace.
Weird. When I first found out about this I was stunned. So stunned I almost didn't know what to say. But, I never stay silent for too long :) , so I went ahead and emailed the other mom.
She was very sweet in her response. Their Caroline Grace was their first baby, and they had also been through so much. I don't know why I am always amazed by God and HIS timing! You would think I would have learned by now!
Anyways, I have checked their blog occasionally, and the other day my mom told me that they are expecting again. For some reason I just thought to check it tonight. They are due to have another baby in February- and they found out yesterday that the baby is perfectly healthy! The anencephaly did not recur!
I don't know this couple personally, but I can imagine the anticipation that faced that ultrasound.
I have been praying for them when they have come to mind over the last several months, and am so glad to hear that they have a healthy baby on the way. This news really just touched me tonight.
As Jason and I start to think about trying to have another child (whether it be biologically or through adoption), I pray that we will handle ourselves with as much grace and poise as this sweet couple has. They have truly been a light and let the glory of God shine through them even throughout their devastating circumstances.
Hallelujah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
3 Year Stats
Bryson had his three year-old well check on Monday. He must have gotten a stomach virus because Monday morning he started vomiting {ALL. over. my. bed. I'm sure I shattered any previous record I had set for the amount of laundry I could do in one day.}. The appointment turned out to be scheduled at a perfect time! Fortunately he seemed to feel okay in between throwing up. We spent the day resting and then went in to see Dr. Meyer.
She said that a stomach bug is going around, and not to be surprised if Jason and I had it the next day. Thank goodness neither one of us caught it!
Bryson did great at the appointment even though he was acting really shy. Dr. Meyer said that she wanted to listen to his heart and he lifted up his shirt for her. She said he is doing great! He is 37.75" tall (50th percentile) and 30.5 pounds (40th percentile).
We had been a bit concerned because Bryson is often hoarse. She said that we will watch him, and that he might have to have speech therapy at some point to learn how to "get loud" appropriately. Worst case scenario would be him developing nodules on his vocal cords which may require surgical removal. Hopefully we will be able to get him into therapy before that happens if this problem continues {on a side note- my brother had to have speech therapy for the exact same thing!}.
We had a great check-up and are so thankful for health!
Drumroll, please...
Bryson has been really into tractors lately. John Deere tractors, to be precise. One day he went to Lowe's with Jason and came back with a John Deere magazine advertising tractors that are for sale. He has literally slept with that thing and carried it everywhere with him! It is so funny!
We decided to get him a ride on John Deere tractor for his birthday.
Here he is waiting for his surprise...
Let the fun begin!
He LOVES it! He goes to sleep and wakes up asking to ride his tractor.
He has also had a lot of fun with Sam and Reagan. They have a John Deere Gator that they can both ride on. It is quite the site to see our crew coming down the street!
Unfortunately Bryson doesn't always pay complete attention while he is driving (imagine that!). I am threatening to make him wear his bike helmet if he keeps crashing into things! Haha!
We are enjoying sitting outside in the evenings and watching him zoom all around. Three has been a lot of fun so far!
Monday, July 23, 2012
Setting Up...
This party was so much fun to put together! Bryson has {literally} been saying that he wanted a fire man party for the last six months! There is a fire station right by our house and he loves to drive by it every day. So, I called my sweet {and oh so talented} friend Heather and asked her to make an invitation and coordinating items for Bryson's party. She did an amazing job! All I had to do was send it to the printer {I used Copy Corner here in town} and then cut it all out. Thank you Heather!!!
She even made this cute cup for the birthday boy!
Our party favors were small paper gift bags complete with a tag that said "Thanks for coming to my party! You're a LIFESAVER!" They were filled with individually wrapped life savers.
We were going to go to the fire station for a tour, but knew we would be back at our house for a good portion of the party. We were trying to think of something the kids could do to pass the time. Like any kid, Bryson loves to climb in, on, around, over, and under things. So an obstacle course was a great solution! There was a balance beam that was over hot coals {I added black "coals" under the beam before the party started}. Then the kids had to crawl through fiery hoops...
There was a building to crawl through {two moving boxes taped together and painted!} and then they had to rescue a cat out of the tree {Bryson's playscape}.
I taped "flames" around empty coke cans and the kids had to use the blue beanbags to put out the fire {knock the bean bags off of the stand Jason built}!
Our "water"!
The kids loved it and it was a lot of fun to watch them maneuver through all of the obstacles. Jason was so patient and built all that we needed with scrap wood from Lowes. It was fun, cheap, and easy to put together. Definitely a hit!
{***My amazingly talented friend Heather now has an Etsy store! You can browse here!}
Party Prep
The Friday afternoon before Bryson's party we had lots of company come into town to help prepare for all of the festivities. Aunt Amy, Uncle Zach, Grandma, PawPaw, Granny, Sheldon, and Phillip all made it here in time for a delicious dinner at Fuego, and then everyone headed back to our house. The boys enjoyed trying to kill each other in a very competitive game a leisurely game of basketball at the park while I made the cupcakes and put the finishing touches on a few things.
Granny sewed blue beanbags that would serve as our "water" to knock down coke cans with flames on them on our fire training obstacle course.
Bryson just had to have a cupcake as soon as they came out of the oven. He then told everyone to sing to him- are we in trouble, or what?!? I had to go outside for something and when I came back in I was told that Halle got his cupcake so not only did he get another one, but everyone sang to him again, too. This kid!!!
Jason and Sheldon stayed up late putting Bryson's tractor together. A little Uncle-Nephew bonding time...
We had a few friends stop by that evening- even Peppermint Kenley got in on the pre-party action! Our house was definitely a bit on the crazy side...
We loved having everyone here to help us celebrate our little man!
We are blessed!
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