I am now 15 pounds lighter than I was yesterday at this time due to the multiple exercises performed while on my sugar high, and we know the sex of our baby!

Here she is:

Don't let her innocent resting pose fool you, she did not sit still for long!

She quickly chose to perform some gymnastics for us, and the ultrasound technician took this shot of her somersaulting. She's using her feet to push off the bottom (left), and her back and head are above (right). Her head is very hard to see at this angle.


See her little fist? We've already got a rebel on our hands!


She kindly pointed towards my bladder, giving me about a 5 second advanced warning that she was about to head-butt it.



She waved at us.



Waving again.

The one picture that I wish we had been able to get happened while the technician was focusing on the heart and kidneys. The screen showed only a close up of the baby's heart, and I suddenly felt a very strange feeling that I'm not sure I can describe to you. It is a feeling that I have felt several times in the last two weeks, and I've always wondered what that child could possibly be doing to create that sensation. It felt like the inside of me had suddenly gone hard everywhere, and I needed to grunt. "Wait!" I said quickly to Nancy, our technician. "Zoom out! I want to see what she is doing right now."

Nancy didn't even question, but immediately changed the camera angle so that we could see the baby's body. She was curled innocently into the fetal position, and the feeling had passed, but as we watched, she suddenly stretched both of her arms and both of her legs out to their longest capacity. Her arms lifted straight over her head, her legs pointed straight out as though she were standing, and that not-painful-but-definitely-not-pleasant feeling returned.

"What in the world?" I questioned. She looked like an Olympic high-diver poised to leap from the diving board.

Yet another reason why Missy should not drink sugar!

I just finished drinking that nasty sugar drink for my pregnancy glucose test, and I'm very hyper. My fingers are typing 5,280 words per minute (which also happens to be the number of feet in a mile, in case you were wondering why that number sounded familiar). Although, if that number did sound familiar to you, that would mean that you were extremely geeky during grade school. Either that, or you had a photographic memory and couldn't stop yourself from learning. Whew, and the above paragraph, boys and girls, is why Missy should never drink sugar.

Our first ultrasound is this afternoon at 1:45. We find out if the baby is a boy or girl, and I'm very excited. Jeremy is supposed to meet me in fifteen minutes and we'll drive a few blocks away to the doctor together, but I just called him at home, and it's raining. Sometimes his truck won't start when it rains. I really, really hope his truck starts today. I want him to be there for this!

Excuse me while I do some jumping jacks and run laps around the office.

Today, my mom is my best friend; however, I am ashamed to admit that when I was 14 or 15, I hated her very existence.

You know why?

She was MEAN. She made me do dishes ALL THE TIME. She made me babysit and help out around the house. She NEVER let me have ANY FUN.

So I made a solomn vow to myself that when I became a mom, I would NEVER be so hard on my teenagers. I would be their friend. Yes, they would have chores, but I would help them out from time to time; I would let them play first if the situation warranted. I would not make them do ALL THE WORK.

I have kept that promise very well, because I still remember my intense resentment over all things chore related. And this week, I discovered something:

My mom was not mean. She did not make me do dishes all the time. I did babysit and help out around the house, but that was only a half of a percent compared to all of the babysitting and helping out around the house that Mom did. She did let me have fun. She was not against my having a life!

On Tuesday, Kimmie hurled accusations and "I hate you"s in much the same way that I remember hurling words at my mom, and I went to bed that night, devastated. I even called my mom for some encouragement, but she sighed and said, "You've got several more years of it left, and just wait until Liberty and the baby are that age." The gift of exhortation belongs to my mother, yes it does.

I tossed and turned, evaluating all of my actions over the past two years, wondering if I had indeed turned into my mother with all of her bothersome chores and unsympathetic heart. When Jeremy arrived home at 2:30 in the morning, we discussed the entire situation, and he told me very plainly that I had done the right things all this time. Then he pulled the door trick, which made me smile and helped me sleep.

Over the past few days, I have been pondering still, turning over Kimmie's words versus my actions.

> Kimmie had said, "You make me do dishes ALL THE TIME!" The dishes are her one assigned chore in the house. (She is also required to keep her room and bathroom clean, but that is not considered a family chore; that is just part of life.) Ironically, I had done the dishes for her on three different days that week because I knew that she had other things going on.

>Kimmie had said, "You make me babysit Liberty." Well, yes, she does babysit Liberty from time to time. She babysat three weeks ago when Jeremy and I had some major errands to run in Des Moines that we knew would take several hours. We gave Kimmie the option of going with us, which meant that Liberty would also go with us, and Kimmie made a face to inform us that she would be bored beyond tears if we dragged her along. She chose to stay home with Liberty, and she was excited about it at the time. She also babysat this past Saturday when the van was being worked on, and I had to sit at the dealership for two and a half hours reading a newspaper and watching customers. Boy, she missed out on some fun, there, let me tell you! I had a yawningly good time!

>Kimmie had said, "You never let me have any fun." That point was illustrated again last night. Kimmie had spent the evening out. She returned home around 8:00 PM. At 9:00, she asked if she could call Stephanie, and I said yes. Then she started telling me about her day and about all of the homework that she had and about the two quizzes tomorrow that she had not yet studied for. As I listened, it dawned on me that she planned to spend her evening on the phone instead of studying for the quizzes. When I questioned her, she informed me that the quizzes didn't really matter. It was much more important for her to have her phone conversation. When asked if the conversation had a certain purpose to it, the answer was, "No, but if I don't call Stephanie tonight, then I won't be able to talk with her for an entire week!" I pointed out that she would have plenty of time to talk all day Sunday (especially since we have free weekend minutes), but that unsympathetic answer earned me the silent treatment for the rest of the night.

I closed my bedroom door last night, smiling to myself. I finally realized what my mom had probably been pointing out to me throughout most of my teenaged years. She loved me. She only wanted what was best for me. She enjoyed giving me good things, fun things, but she also knew that I needed to learn to be responsible and hard-working. She did not try to kill my fun, just like I do not try to kill Kimmie's fun. She did not make me constantly work, just like I do not make Kimmie constantly work.

I also realized something else. No matter what I do, Kimmie is probably not going to change her opinion of me (at least not until she has a smart-alecky daughter of her own). But her heart is not dependent on my actions; my actions do not determine her attitude. I have been beating myself up, trying to figure out what I am doing wrong to create such a horrid response in my daughter, and I finally know that I am not creating that response. I do answer to God for my own attitudes and actions, but I do not have to blame myself for Kimmie's attitudes and actions!

Maybe you are not feeling it, but this knowledge is freedom to me. Writing this post has helped me to sort out all of the feelings and thoughts that have been floating around my head for the past few days, and now I'm ready to take a deep breath and face the world again.

I love my daughter. I have not done wrong. Bring it on!

PS> Mom, if you're reading this, I'm sorry for years 12 - 18. I love you! :-)

This morning, I drove happily into town enjoying the pleasant morning sunshine and be-bopping to the songs on the radio. Liberty pulled her right tennis shoe off once again and proceeded to alternately suck on her toes and grin at me in the rear view mirror. Kimmie stared sulkily out the window, thinking brooding teenage thoughts.

The weather report came on, and I nodded in joyful agreement as the 55 degree prediction sounded for today.

Then the sky darkened, and the earth began to quake. WHAT WAS THAT I HEARD???? SNOW PREDICTED FOR THE WEEKEND?!

I don't believe it.

I won't believe it.

It's SPRING!

Right?

And you KNOW how much I love sunshine! It's supposed to get up to 56 degrees today!!! Yay for us!!!!

When Jeremy arrived home at 2:30 last night, I was still awake in our bed, and we were able to discuss several issues that I had encountered yesterday that were keeping me awake. I explained to him that I was second-guessing my actions and the stand that I had taken that day, and he listened to the whole story. After a bit of discussion between us and some encouragement from Jeremy, he went to the kitchen to fix himself a small snack, and I settled into my pillow to get some long awaited sleep.

After a few minutes, I heard our bedroom door creak open just slightly. I opened one eye and saw Jeremy's nose and lips protruding through the small crack.

I waited, wondering what would come next.

Melissa, this is God. Jeremy's voice rumbled from the other side of the door. You are doing the right thing. Keep it up. Keep going.

The door slowly opened further, and Jeremy's entire head appeared around the edge. I grinned at him in the darkness and thanked God for giving me such a wonderful man to encourage me.

Sometimes, even when things seem hopeless, I just have to keep on keeping on. God is in control. My actions can be used by Him, but my actions do not have power on their own to change others. Only the Holy Spirit changes hearts. Mine included.

All posting has been postponed due to the intense drug-induced fog befuddling my brain which is preventing normal thoughts and accurate spelling.

On a happier note, drugs have a fun affect on the dreaming portion of my brain.

My husband reported that over the weekend I talked quite a bit in my sleep. I have been teasing him for quite some time about the fact that one night he yelled out, "Washo! Save me!" after watching a marathon of Walker Texas Ranger. (Washo is Walker's Indian nickname.)

Jeremy is now paying me back by teasing me about the petty cash that I am apparently guarding to keep my brother from using it for drug money. (I read a book just before succumbing to this cold.)

As I walked across the street today in the biting wind and blowing snow flurries to pick up my lunch at Smokey Row (a BLT on wheat, cottage cheese and a cockle-warming Spiced Chai Tea), I made two discoveries: 1) I am officially style-less. 2) I love Smokey Row.

Let's address Discovery 1 first, shall we?

I coughed all night long. At some point in the middle of the night, I decided to get up and take a steamy shower, hoping the steam would aid my breathing efforts. Instead of aiding my breathing efforts, the shower only succeeded in causing me to have bag-lady hair when I got out of bed this morning. One side of my bangs have adhered themselves flatly to my head and refuse to detach. The other side has chosen to defy gravity and stand at military attention, doing their best to point others towards Heaven. It is quite lovely.

My brand new maternity jeans must have shrunk in the wash, because I swear they finished BELOW my ankles and not three inches above my ankles when I tried them on in the store this weekend. Either that, or Target has some incredible lengthening mirrors in their dressing rooms.

All of my black, blue and otherwise non-attention grabbing socks were in the laundry this morning, so in a fit of desperation I pulled on some bright, white, HELLO-THERE socks which gleefully pull attention to my three-inch-too-short-jeans.

None of these factors would normally affect me, because usually after I dress I have to leave my bedroom and walk past the approving or disapproving eyes of my teenage daughter who never hesitates to ask incredulously, "Are you seriously wearing that today?" Usually, I mentally recap what I am wearing, and after deciding there is NOTHING WRONG with my outfit, I state very plainly, "Yes," and continue with my day. However, I PRAY that if she had said that to me this morning, I would have stopped what I was doing and changed my clothes.

Today, however, none of that occurred. Today, Kimmie had no school. Today, my wonderful husband who works night shift and came home at 3:00 in the morning, who saw me downstairs hacking up a lung at 4:45 this morning, who realized I did not fall asleep until 6:00 this morning, very thoughtfully assumed that I would not be going to work today, and he TURNED OFF MY ALARM CLOCK which was set for 7:00 AM.

At 8:15, Liberty's baby monitor woke me up.

We normally leave the house at 8:00.

After calling Chris and Craig to let them know that Liberty and I would be late, I grabbed the nearest outfit, frowned at my hair, skipped the makeup, and ran out the door with Liberty bouncing along. No teen-aged voice of reason (did I really say that?) halted my mad rush out the door in short jeans, white socks, and gravity-defying hair. The only part of my ensemble of which I am not ashamed is my beautiful green shirt.

And you are not going to believe this...or maybe you will, but while I one-handedly typed that last sentence, a juicy tomato fell out of my BLT, leaving a triple-bounced trail of stains down the middle of the fabric covering my pregnant belly. There goes my lovely green shirt. Should I be reading up on "Pride goeth before a fall?"

What can I say: I'm style-less.

My second discovery was much more pleasant. I discovered another reason to love Smokey Row. When I entered their casually eclectic establishment to pick up my shirt staining BLT, I noticed signs posted that read, "Smokey Row is hosting a WINTER PROTEST," and the workers were all sporting brightly colored shirts and Hawaiian leis.

Now that's my kind of protest!

And seriously, all I really need is a lei to cover my stains and draw attention away from my hair and socks.

As I mentioned in the Town Plague post, Fifth Disease is going around, and it could have serious, even fatal side-effects for an unborn baby. You'd think the below zero temps would freeze those germs out, but no, they are alive and well. Instead, we are the only ones being frozen to death.

Craig and Kathy's daughter, Sammi, has Fifths; Liberty has had something resembling a bad cold for a week and a half and can't seem to shake it, and now I have the scratchy throat, congestion, achy body and sore joints that could indicate the beginning of Fifth Disease.

I've been wondering if I should call my doctor to see if there is some kind of preventative measure that I could take for my baby, so I googled, "What is the difference between a cold and Fifth Disease?"

It gave me this link which made me laugh and nod vigorously in agreement.

And I feel better about it all, now! :-)

(Besides, Kathy just brought me some Spiced Chai Tea from Smokey Row, and it has warmed the "cockles of my heart;" a phrase which Kathy and I just googled and giggled about.)

From Mike Huckabee's concession speech:

I've said many times here in Texas that I was inspired by the incredible story of that small group of less than 200 volunteers at the Alamo in San Antonio who took refuge in that church mission. And they saw the incredible armies of Santa Ana start massing against them.

On February the 23rd of 1836, 172 years ago this past week, those armies began a 24-hour onslaught and bombardment. On the 24th day of February, Colonel William Barret Travis wrote the letter from the Alamo that should reign and live in all of our hearts and memories, not just for Texas, but for all the world, all who love liberty.

As he said on the incredible occasion, he said, "The enemy has demanded a surrender at discretion. Otherwise the garrison are to be put to the sword if the fort is taken." He said, "I've answered the demand with a cannon shot and our flag still waves proudly from the walls. I shall never surrender or retreat."

"I call upon you in the name of liberty, of patriotism, and everything dear to the American character to come to our aid with all dispatch. The enemy is receiving enforcements daily and will no doubt increase to 3,000 or 4,000 in four or five days."

"If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible and die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his own honor and that of his country: victory or death."
These were people who understood that their battle was not about them. It was about the principles of liberty that they deemed even more important than their own lives.

Tonight, I hope that our battle was never about us. It was about our country and its liberty. And now we join with Senator McCain and the rest in our party to continue that battle, to continue that fight, not for who gets elected, but for what we do in maintaining liberty and freedom when we get elected and when our country's flag still waves proudly on the wall.

Yesterday, MR. SUN came out. Yes, MR. SUN gets capitals because I operate under the theory that if I make him feel very special, he will come visit more often. Neighbors on our cul-de-saq exploded from their snowbound homes, drinking in the SUNSHINE. Children splashed in melting snow. Liberty ate mud and rocks while running up and down the street and periodically dropping her doll in the dirt.

My across the street neighbor and my next door neighbor are both having babies in July with me. Kelly is due July 11th, Angie is due July 21st, and I am due July 30th. The three pregnant women and our husbands met at Kelly's mailbox to compare tummies and discuss nursery decor. Jeremy and I are waiting for the citywide SPRING (yes, also capitals) garage sale to find another crib, dresser and clothes.

Kelly and Angie are both having boys. Jeremy is jealous...although, we are making progress; last night he told me that he really doesn't mind if the baby turns out to be a girl. Can you believe that?

Me either. That's why I have recorded his words for posterity just now.

Angie & Brandon's youngest daughter Maddie brought out a toy highchair and a small baby to sit in it. Liberty eyed the highchair, tactically planning her ascent. First she attempted to remove the baby. When that plan was foiled by Jeremy and I, she pretended indifference. Then she quickly tried to rip the baby from the chair by approaching from underneath. She couldn't stand the thought that something to climb stood right before her eyes, and she wasn't allowed to climb it. If that plastic baby thought it was going to keep her from her mountain, that baby had another thought coming. Six adults watched in careful amusement as she planned her next attack. The hunger for height shone plainly in her sky blue eyes. Thankfully, Maddie decided the baby and highchair needed to go back inside, and Liberty trotted off in search of another mountain.

Kimmie had been predicting snow all day, but with the temps nearing 60 we all wallowed in denial. Denny and Kelly decided to take their boat to the lake, and Jeremy and I decided to take our daughter to the bathtub.

Jeremy carried Liberty carefully at arm's length towards the house. At the front door, Kimmie and I removed her mudcaked shoes while Jeremy lamented the state of her footwear. Once inside, I peeled her wet pants off and discovered that her skin had miraculously changed color. She no longer represented a caucasian child. Her coffee skin tones were more reminiscent of an Indian nation.

We took her straight to the bathtub where her bathwater had to be changed twice before it remained clear enough to bathe in.

The rain arrived late in the afternoon, and it quickly changed to ice, then snow as evening drew on. This morning "Travel Not Advised" warnings bellowed from radio and tv stations. All roads in our area were snow and ice covered. Schools proclaimed a two-hour delay. My normally 12 minute commute took 43 minutes. It is 19 degrees.

And it was worth it all...to stand in the SUN yesterday.

Here's how it works:

1. Go to http://www.photobucket.com/ (don't sign in)
2. Type in your answer to the questions below in the "search" box
3. Use only the first page of photos
4. Click on THE PICTURE you like best
5. Copy the html and paste for the answer
***********************************************

1. What is your first name?

(I cheated on this one. First I typed in Missy and got pictures of girls and dogs. Then I typed in Melissa and got the same. I then went back to Missy and tried the second page where I found this picture!)


2. What is your favorite thing to do?



3. What is your relationship status?

(Married. Notice the warm sunshine in this picture?)


4. What is your favorite color?

(Yellow and pink)


5. Who is your favorite celebrity?

(I don't really have a favorite celebrity, but I really like Bill Pulman's acting.)


6. What are you listening to right now?


(Florescent light humming and traffic outside my window.)


7. What is your favorite movie?
(I don't know! I never can pick ONE that is my favorite. I choose by mood as poor Jeremy can attest to. Umm, how about...)

(While You Were Sleeping) Ha! Did you guess that one?


8. What is your favorite beverage?
(That also depends on my mood, but usually...)



9. What is your dream vacation?

(Camping)


10. What is your favorite dessert?
(Oh boy, I'm not really a dessert person. I like chips and popcorn better. OH! I KNOW!)

(Chocolate Eclair Cake, for which I am still recipe searching. I wish I knew the lady in the picture!)


11. What do you want to do when you grow up?




12. What do you love most in life?

(Maybe I'm a little sun-deprived right now, and that makes it tough to be objective.)


13. One word to describe yourself?

HAPPY!

I will be out of the office today. Craig, Kathy and I will be hosting a booth at a nearby company. Maybe I'll be back tomorrow with stories of interesting people that I met...or maybe not.

You'll have to wait and see!

Dear Diary:

Aug. 12 - Moved into our new home in Iowa. It is so beautiful here. The hills and river valleys are so picturesque. I have a beautiful old oak tree in my front yard. Can hardly wait to see the change in the seasons. This is truly God's Country!

Oct. 14 - Iowa is such a gorgeous place to live, one of the really special places on Earth. The leaves are turning a multitude of different colors. I love all of the shades of reds, oranges and yellows; they are so bright! I want to walk through all of the beautiful hills and spot some white tail deer. They are so graceful, certainly they must be the most peaceful creatures on Earth. This must be paradise!

Nov. 11 - Deer season opens this week. I can't imagine why anyone would want to shoot these elegant animals. They are the very symbol of peace and tranquility here in Iowa. I hope it snows soon. I love it here!

Dec. 2 - It snowed last night. I woke to the usual wonderful sight: everything covered in a beautiful blanket of white. The oak tree is magnificent. It looks like a postcard. We went out and swept the snow from the steps and driveway. The air is so crisp, clean and refreshing. We had a snowball fight; I won! The snowplow came down the street. He must have gotten too close to the driveway because we had to go out and shovel the end of the driveway again. What a beautiful place. Nature in harmony.

Dec. 12 - More snow last night. I love it! The plow did his cute little trick again. What a rascal. A winter wonderland. I love it here!

Dec. 19 - More snow. Couldn't get out of the driveway to get to work in time. I'm exhausted from all of the shoveling. And that snowplow!

Dec. 21 - More of that white stuff coming down. I've got blisters on my hands and a kink in my back. I think that the snowplow driver waits around the corner until I'm done shoveling the driveway.

Dec. 25 - White Christmas? More stinking snow. If I ever get my hands on the turkey who drives that snowplow, I swear I'll castrate him. And why don't they use more salt on these roads to melt this stuff ??

Dec. 28 - It hasn't stopped snowing since Christmas. I have been inside since then, except of course when that meany "Snowplow Harry" comes by. Can't go anywhere, cars are buried up to the windows. Weather man says to expect another 10 inches. Do you have any idea how many shovelfuls 10 inches is??

Jan. 1 - Happy New Year? The way it's coming down it won't melt until the 4th of July! The snowplow got stuck down the road and the crazy head actually had the gumption to come and ask to borrow a shovel! I told him I'd broken 6 already this season.

Jan. 4 - Finally got out of the house. We went to the store to get some food when a deer ran out in front of my car and I hit the beast. It did $3,000 in damage to the car. Those beasts ought to be killed. The hunters should have a longer season if you ask me.

Jan. 27 - Warmed up a little and rained today. The rain turned the snow into ice and the weight of it broke the main limb of the oak tree in the front yard and it went through the roof. I should have cut that old piece of bark into fireplace wood when I had the chance.

May 23 - Took my car to the local garage. Would you believe the whole underside of the car is rusted away from all of that salt they dump on the road? Car looks like a bashed up, heap of
rusted cow pie.

May 10 - Sold the car, the house, and moved to Georgia. I can't imagine why anyone in their crazy mind would ever want to live in the forsaken State of Iowa!


Someone sent the above Diary to my email inbox, and I just HAD to post it...because I think we're all going a little snow crazy, and I can completely identify with the sentiments expressed. While I am not yet ready to move to Georgia, or anywhere else for that matter, I am craving sunshine, warmth, green grass. All I want is a weekend away.

I'm just waiting for Spring. Up until last week, I enjoyed each little snowflake as it swirled to the ground, but I'm all snowed out now. Last week's three snowdays did me in, and the storm last night and this morning was just icing on the cake. I have actually started visualizing what the road would look like if it weren't icy white and what the grass might look like if 12 foot drifts weren't piled on top. As my imagination takes hold, I can feel the tension melting and my shoulders and lungs relaxing.

Oh Spring, wherefore art thou?

My favorite Valentine's Day was the day that Jeremy first told me "I love you."

We were attending college in Florida at the time. We had been very good friends for over a year, and we had been dating for the past several months. As we stood in line outside the overflowing cafeteria, waiting for our turn to enter the building and pick up our to-go boxed supper, I stood gazing up at the full golden moon in the periwinkle twilight sky. I remember how the bottom curve of the moon seemed to balance on the top branch of a nearby oak tree, and I thought to myself, What a beautiful, perfect evening. Jeremy stood behind me also watching the moon, we were so close together that my back almost touched his front. He leaned in close to my neck and with a low, gravelly voice quietly said into my left ear, "I love you."

My heart leaped inside me because I had been waiting to hear those words from him. But I did not want him to say that only because it was Valentine's Day, and I wondered if he would feel pressured or trapped now that he had finally said it to me. (Did I mention that I tend to overthink things?) So I gave him an escape route. Without turning around, pretending to be preoccupied with the moon, I casually murmered, "What?" as though I had not heard him.

He turned me around to face him and looked directly into my eyes. "I love you, Missy," he said firmly and decisively and with an amused smile on his face. He knew me very well.

I smiled sweetly up at him and said matter-of-factly, "That's good. Because I love you, too."

And what had I done for him that Valentine's Day, you ask? Well, early in the morning, I had snuck over to where his car was parked on campus, and I TP'ed the whole thing. I hung empty Walmart bags from his back bumper, and tied sad looking red and pink balloons to his side mirrors. With special window paint, I wrote HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! across his front and back windshields.

Because I'm romantic like that.

This past weekend, Jeremy decided that he needed new shoes. Now, you have to know Jeremy in order to be shocked by that statement, but let me tell you one thing. Jeremy NEVER spends money on himself...in fact, he barely spends money on us! I have to fight for grocery money, clothing money, school money, entertainment money. It all goes through the dreaded budget filter. Every pair of underwear and socks that Jeremy owns is covered in holes, but he refuses to buy more. His tennis shoes are years old, floppy, fraying and filthy, yet he insists that we cannot afford to buy new ones.

You can imagine my shock at his suggestion that we enter a locally owned shoe store this past Saturday even if it was "just to look."

I immediately jumped at the chance.

Inside the store, the salesmen and women were instantly charmed by Liberty's smiles and silliness. Liberty is very outgoing, and she loves to make anyone around her laugh. She began playing Peek-A-Boo with the workers, and soon a crowd had gathered. This gave Jeremy and I a chance to examine shoes.

After a little while, I noticed the children's section, and my curiousity got the best of me. I asked a sales lady to size Liberty's foot because I have been unsure of what size she should be wearing. The lady pried off the size two shoe that Liberty was wearing and proceded to inform me that Liberty should actually be wearing a size five! I was horrified at the thought that I had been cramming poor Liberty's foot into a size two every day when she should have been wearing a size five. Jeremy thought it was hilarious and of course, has not yet stopped teasing me about my awful mothering skills.

We quickly tried a size five shoe on her, and Liberty happily tripped off to entertain her new fans. We all noticed a difference in her stride, and my feeling of guilt grew.

Jeremy continued to shop for tennis shoes for himself, but he asked me several times if I thought we should purchase the new shoes for Liberty or not. I knew certainly that she needed shoes that fit her, but I could not swallow the price of these shoes. I pulled him off to the side away from the salespeople and quietly pointed out the fact that Walmart would have shoes for less than $10.00 for her, especially since she wouldn't be wearing them very long before her feet grew again. He nodded, appreciating my thriftiness and picked up the shoe box that had contained the size fives that were now on Liberty's feet. While I watched Liberty, Jeremy strode purposefully up to the counter...AND PAID FOR LIBERTY'S NEW SHOES!

My jaw dropped.

We then quickly left the store because Jeremy had spent the money on Liberty that he had planned to spend on himself. I thought he would be sad not to have shoes for himself, but instead, he has been walking on sunshine, thrilled with the fact that he was able to provide new shoes for his daughter. "And they're expensive!" He keeps repeating to me. Like that makes them more important or something. But in reality, it does make them more important, because it is so uncharacteristic for Jeremy to spend more money than necessary.

Over the past few days, people on the street and at church have stopped us and commented on "What cute shoes!" Liberty smiles up at them, happy to have a new friend, but Jeremy's chest swells and his chin stands just a tad bit higher in the air. He catches my eyes and gives a satisfied look. It cracks me up, and it catches joyfully at my heart. I love the fact that Jeremy gets such joy out of providing frivolously for his daughter. The fact that she is oblivious to his sacrifice and the greatness of his gift makes it even more wonderful to me, and it makes me think of the many frivolous gifts God gives me that I am oblivious to.

Now if I could just get Jeremy to buy me some cute shoes!

Last Wednesday, my regular babysitter, Chris, called to say that her child had a fever and was vomiting. Thankfully, Wednesday and Thursday were snow days so we all stayed home together snowed in, and Liberty did not need to go to a babysitter. On Friday, Chris called again to say that her house was still disease-ridden. I called my backup babysitter, Sonja, who gladly cared for Liberty instead.

On Sunday night, Chris called to tell me that her two other children had the symptoms, and Chris herself was not feeling well. I called Sonja, who told me that although she would be available to babysit for the entire rest of the week, she already had plans for Monday. I called fifteen people on Sunday night and early Monday morning, but most of the families that I called had someone sick in their house. So I took Liberty to work with me on Monday and pulled out the phone book to find friends who could babysit. Craig tried to help out by making suggestion after suggestion, but after two hours of phone calls, I found out that most of the town is ill, including Craig's youngest son, which prevented Kathy from babysitting Liberty.

I didn't mind having Liberty at work with me, in fact, I rather enjoyed it. She is very easy-going and everyone agrees that she is delightful to be around. She found a rubber lizard in one of the desk drawers and loved wiggling it, watching its legs flop around. However, as her naptime drew near, small head bumps and trips over her new shoes became gradually more tragic. Finally, a lady returned my call who had a home daycare service. She told me that one of her regular children did not come in today (due to sickness) and she could take Liberty for me...just for Monday. Her home is only a few blocks from my work, so I drove Liberty over and helped her settle in.

On Monday afternoon, Chris called to tell me that she had taken a turn for the worse and to let me know that the school sent a note home informing parents that Fifth's Disease was spreading through our town.

I looked up Fifth Disease on the internet and here is what I found:

Fifth disease begins with a low-grade fever, headache, and mild cold-like symptoms (a stuffy or runny nose). These symptoms pass, and the illness seems to be gone until a rash appears a few days later. The bright red rash typically begins on the face. Several days later, the rash spreads and red blotches (usually lighter in color) extend down to the trunk, arms, and legs. The rash usually spares the palms of the hands and soles of the feet. As the centers of the blotches begin to clear, the rash takes on a lacy net-like appearance. Kids younger than 10 years old are most likely to get the
rash.

Older kids and adults sometimes complain that the rash itches, but most
children with a rash caused by fifth disease do not look sick and no longer have
fever. It may take 1 to 3 weeks for the rash to completely clear, and during
that time it may seem to worsen until it finally fades away entirely.

Certain stimuli (including sunlight, heat, exercise, and stress) may
reactivate the rash until it completely fades. Other symptoms that sometimes
occur with fifth disease include swollen glands, red eyes, sore throat,
diarrhea, and rarely, rashes that look like blisters or bruises.
In some cases, especially in adults and older teens, an attack of fifth disease may be followed by joint swelling or pain, often in the hands, wrists, knees, or
ankles.

Parvovirus B19 infection during pregnancy may cause problems for the fetus.
Some fetuses may develop severe anemia if the mother is infected while pregnant — especially if the infection occurs during the first half of the pregnancy. In some cases, this anemia is so severe that the fetus doesn't survive. Fortunately, about half of all pregnant women are immune from having had a previous infection with parvovirus. Serious problems occur in less than 5% of women who become infected during
pregnancy.

So Fifth Disease is not really a big deal...unless you are pregnant, because it could kill your baby (maybe). Chris and I agreed that Liberty and I should stay away from their house for a while because they have three more kids who have not yet succumbed to the virus and who could easily be carrying it. So I called Sonja to see if she would like to babysit for the rest of the week as she had previously offered.

She told me that her husband had become sick overnight. Yikes!

I live in the frozen tundra.

Yesterday, I heard on the radio that it was going to get up to 30 today, and I cheered.

What's wrong with that picture?

Yesterday, God sent my friend Kathy to me bearing Cheeseburger Chowder just when I needed it most.

I have been having a rough few nights recently. Nightmares. Horrible, frightening nightmares that wake me up full of fear. I don't know why this is happening, but I really, really don't like it. Tuesday night into Wednesday had been particularly frightening, and I couldn't seem to collect my thoughts or get my act together on Wednesday morning. I spent most of the morning trying to run errands and attempting to focus on my work, but my thoughts were worried and jumbled. My actions harried.

Around noon, Kathy breezed into the office and said, "Hi! I'm treating you to a bread-bowl of Cheeseburger Chowder at Smokey Row. Let's go!" I dutifully donned my coat, locked the office, put out the GONE TO LUNCH sign, and trudged wearily down the street with her.

An hour later, warmed by chowder, heart-to-heart discussions and laughter, Kathy and I embraced. As she passed through the doorway, I happily pondered the difference in my spirit.

I'm so thankful for friendship! :-)

Until yesterday, I had never heard of "She Speaks." I have a list of blogs that I read on a daily basis, and yesterday, Linda at 2nd Cup of Coffee wrote about "She Speaks." After reading her post, I decided "She Speaks" was a Christian conference for women, and I thought no more about it other than a mild curiosity.

Today, Big Mama's post had a button linking to "She Speaks," so I checked it out just to satisfy my mild curiosity. Here is what I found.

Astonished, I realized that I know Lysa TerKeurst...well, maybe not know her, but I listen to her on the radio every day. She always has little tips for wives, moms, ladies about how to continue to walk closely with God. I love her little radio tips!

I read more about the conference and found out that they have a session for writers:

For Writers: You have had a passion for writing and have even had people
encourage you to write a book, but have never known how to get started on the
pathway to publication. You will have the chance to attend sessions taught by
some of the top Christian publishers and make appointments to pitch your book
proposal. Or maybe you are a blogger and just want to learn how to more
effectively connect with your readers and increase the impact of your blog. What
better way than to sit in sessions taught by three of the most widely read blog
authors: Boo Mama, Big Mama, and Rocks in My Dryer. Whatever the case may be,
after attending this conference you will:
>Discover your unique writing voice and the mechanics of effective writing
>Understand what publishers are looking for and how to write proposals that get their attention
>Better understand how to build your writing portfolio by getting published in magazines
>Know how to write a book that will impact your reader from start to finish

That gripped my heart, and I felt my lungs squeeze inward ever so slightly. I don't know why this is so hard for me to share, but I have been writing a book for years now, and I want it to be published. I know that God has called me to write. He has given me a burden to reach others through stories and a heart to minister through novels. In fact, I have ideas for a trilogy of books and many other stories in my head begging to be written.

There, I said it. I'm having a mild panic attack now.

Honestly, I don't know why letting others know about my dreams scares me silly, but it does. Maybe I am afraid of failure. Maybe my pride is afraid of public failure. Many people have encouraged my writing. In fact, many of my blog readers have commented that I should write a book. Every time I read those comments, I am encouraged and frightened, "Do they know? No, they can't possibly."

Well, Proverbs 31 ministries is hosting a contest giving away a free ticket to the conference, and in order to enter the contest, I need to post on my blog why I want to win. So here I am, posting on my blog. I want to win because I want to write freely, and I want to learn how to find a publisher or editor or someone to help me fulfill this calling.

So now it's out in the open. And maybe God just wanted me to be brave (read humble) enough to put it out in the open, whether I win the contest or not.

American Gladiators used to be one of my very favorite TV shows when I was a kid, so the commercial I saw a few weeks ago stating AG's return started my little heart going pitter-patter in anticipation.

Back then, American Gladiators had several things going for it. For one, it's spot on Saturday mornings started late enough that I could sleep in and still be up in time for the show. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for Air Wolf whose theme song always woke me up from the living room where my brothers and sisters were watching it, but it just could not entice me out of bed. Many mornings, I listened to the entire show before dragging myself out of bed and into the shower. I would then fix myself some breakfast/lunch and sit down to enjoy American Gladiators. Oh yeah, and to drool over Turbo, who I had a significant crush on.

My brothers and sisters and I would choose our player and then cheer them on throughout the show with shouts of "Duck!" "Go NOW!" "Hit him harder!" "Run!" At the end of the Eliminator Challenge, we would fall back onto the couch cushions just as exhausted as the contenders. And often, we would then use those couch cushions to immitate the pugilist Joust or to climb the Pyramid.

So it was with great anticipation that I tuned in last Monday to the new American Gladiators show. And married and grownup though I am, I still checked to see if Turbo was there. He was not.

It took about five minutes for me to wonder what else was on. This realization saddened me, and I determined to watch until the end without switching channels. By the end of the show, I was relieved, and I analyzed in my mind why this was the case.

There were no significant differences between this episode and any of the old episodes. The challenges were the same as I remembered, and I was glad that they had not been changed. I had to pick Kimmie up from cheerleading in the beginning of the show, so I only got to see the last thirty minutes. Maybe that was the problem.

But in my heart, I know the difference. It's just not the same without Nate, Hannah, Charity, Joe, Zach, Faith and Pete all yelling at the screen with me.

I live in a town that proudly waves their Dutch heritage high overhead. Phrases like, "If you ain't Dutch, you ain't much," and "Proud to be a tightwad Dutchman," regularly flutter in the breeze. The word "Dutch" seems to be used synonymously with frugality and thriftiness around here. But last night, I witnessed the epitome of Dutchness.

I attended a play at Kimmie's new high school building.

We entered a room with "Chapel" posted on the double doors and were shown to our seats in an an auditorium that rivaled most elegant theaters. Gazing at the beautiful surroundings distracted me from obtaining a program, but half-way through the first act, I leaned over and whispered to Kimmie, "Did you get a program?"

"No," she whispered back.

At intermission, I left the auditorium to use the restroom. On my way out, I noticed several people returning programs to a large stack sitting off to the side. Along with many other people, I scooped one up then returned to my seat. Kimmie and I read it together throughout the rest of the intermission, and I continued to watch as person after person finished reading their program, and returned it to the stack, while others would come by and pick one up. The stack never visibly shrunk or grew. There were obviously enough programs for everyone in attendance to have their own, yet these people could not suppress who they are.

They are Dutch.

Completely.

They would take turns reading.

When the play finished, I purposefully watched to see what would happen with the programs. The pile grew and grew as audience members deposited their reading material. I had to smile to myself, and for some reason, it gave me a comfortable feeling to see this Dutch quality acted out.

Now, I know thriftiness is a stereotype of the Dutch, and I know that not all Dutch are frugal. But it just feels good to know that the majority of the people in this town choose to care not only about pinching their own pennies, but also pinching pennies for their school and for their neighbors. I've seen this quality acted out in other instances too, throughout town, not just at our school. It gave me a feeling of family: sharing, caring, taking turns, waiting.

I fully believe that if a person in town were to read this post, they would be puzzled. Because these actions are not thought out, they are part of the fabric of who the people in this community are. I'm not putting them on a pedestal, or romanticizing; I'm just saying I'm thankful to be part of them.

I can't think.

I can't write.

I can't function.

Where is my brain?

I am sitting at the computer, desperately attempting to blog, but nothing comes to me. My mind is a wasteland of emptiness.

Yesterday, I wanted so badly to blog, but when I tried, nothing came out of my fingertips. So far this morning, I have been an extremely productive employee. I sit at my desk, thinking, "I should do something. I really should do something." But there is no energy.

Then I glance at my list of things to do today, and I think, "Hey, I could do that one." So I complete one item on my list, and then think, "I should do something. I really should do something."

Why can't I move?

Oh, and who is the genius who decided that pregnant women should not take cold medicine, I ask you? It was probably a man who never had been and never would be pregnant. He thought, "What's one more inconvenience to a body that is already putting up with backaches and headaches and nausea and sleeplessness. If she can put up with that, surely she can suffer through a little cold that only inflicts stabbing sinus pressure against the back of her face, and allows mucus to drain down the back of her throat at all hours of the day and night, thereby ensuring more nausea."

She is woman! She can do anything!

I'm done complaining now. Because really, I'm thankful to have this baby inside...even though he or she is eating all of my brain cells.

I decided a little while ago to read straight through my Bible from Genesis to Revelation. I did not put myself on a schedule like I have in the past, but instead chose to read leisurely through. Some days I read only a verse or two, and some days I read several chapters. It just depends on the day.

I am currently at the end of Deuteronomy, and last night I read the part where God told Moses he would not be allowed to enter the Promised Land.

"This is because...you broke faith with me in the presence of the
Israelites...and because you did not uphold my holiness among the
Israelites. Therefore, you will see the land only from a distance; you will
not enter the land I am giving to the people of Israel."

Moses is probably my most favorite person in the Bible. I'm not sure why exactly, but I identify with him quite a bit in his struggles and in his victories. I feel like he and I would be good friends if we lived in the same time and place with each other. Anyway, I felt very disappointed for him last night. More than disappointed, I guess. I was very, very sad for him.

I remember when he "broke faith" with God. At the time, it seemed like a very simple variation. God had told him to SPEAK to a rock and water would come out of it for the thirsty people in the desert. Instead, Moses was angry at the people for their lack of faith in such a wonderful God, and he HIT the rock. Water came out of it, and the problem was solved. Life moved on.

Years went by, more than forty years to be precise, and here he is finally at the threshold of the Promised Land. He is going strong for God; he is communicating and leading the people very well. And God pulls him aside, and says, "I'm sorry, but because of your disobedience to me 40 years ago, I cannot let you go into the land. Everyone else here will be allowed to go, but you cannot. Here's another leader for the people. The end."

That reminded me of an incident that Kimmie and I had about a month ago. Kimmie enjoys writing letters to people, and she is great at mailing them. (Unlike myself, who writes letters quite a lot, but NEVER mails them.) I knew that she was coming to the end of her book of stamps, and I had decided just as a nice surprise, to buy a new book of stamps for her when that one ran out instead of requiring her to use her own money for the stamps. She did not know of my intentions. The day that she ran out of stamps, I drove to the store and bought a new booklet. I hid it in my purse and excitedly waited for the afternoon when I would give them to her. That afternoon, she was disobedient and rude, and as a result, I decided not to reward that type of behavior with a gift. I quietly kept the stamps in my purse, and Kimmie never knew what good things she could have had.

A few days later, she asked me if she could borrow a stamp from me, since she had not had a chance to go to the post office. Then I told her the story of the surprise stamps that she had missed out on. I explained to her that God also works this way. He has so many good things that He wants to give us, but we have the power to prevent His good gifts. At the time, I applied that principal only to Kimmie.

But last night, I thought about what Moses had done in his anger. He had "broken faith" with God. Somehow, that phrase really stings. It feels like a hurt relationship. God had relied on Moses to show the people God's character; He had trusted Moses to be an example of God to the people, and Moses had broken God's faith in him.

God is trusting me to be an example of God to my family. I wonder how many times I have "broken faith" with God. Maybe even in something that seems very small. How sad that is. I don't want to miss out on good things that God has in store for me, and I don't want to "break faith" with God.

So I'm thankful that God showed me that truth now, while I'm still 28. I may have broken faith quite a lot in my first 28 years, but with this new awareness, and with God's help, I hope that I will break faith a lot less for the rest of my years or days or minutes that I have left.

About six inches of snow has fallen lightly over our yard, and it reminded me of a story that I wanted to post after our last snowfall.

My three youngest brothers and sister had called me to discuss some mysterious footprints in the snow near the door of their house. They described the prints to me, and asked if I knew what they could be. I guessed a coyote, but I really had no idea. They analyzed the prints, took pictures, and finally looked them up in a book from the library on animal tracks. It turns out, there must be a loose pig in the neighborhood who had come calling at their house. And yes, pig tracks and coyote tracks are vastly different in their appearance. Thanks for pointing that out to me.

All of the excitement caused me to wonder what kind of creatures were roaming outside our house. So I bundled up the girls and we headed outside. We found rabbit tracks and bird tracks and deer tracks and dog tracks. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But then I noticed a pathway worn in the snow leading from our front door to our neighbor's house on the right and another pathway leading from our front door to our neighbor's house on the left. Joyfulness bubbled up in my heart when I realized that we had FRIEND TRACKS in our snow!

All names have been changed to protect the innocent. Well, really to protect me!

Jeremy (name not changed) is sick. Dreadfully, death-bed sick. This morning, we discovered that we had run out of medicine, so I heroically drove down the road to the gas station to pick up some more for him before I left for work.

We live in a town of about 1,400 people. For the longest time, we only had one gas station, but now there are two, the "Old Casey's" and the "New Casey's." I rarely stop for gas in the mornings, so the amount of people standing around drinking coffee and eating donuts in the station really surprised me. Judging from the conversation and postures, I guessed that most of these people are regular morning "stationers."

I weaved between "stationers," looking for the medicine aisle, and absorbed the conversation around me. One topic dominated:

Why had the ambulance come to Norma Jean's house, and why had it driven away in the direction of THE BIG CITY instead of towards the hospital in the next town 20 minutes away?

I read medicine labels while citizen after citizen gave testimony to what they had seen that morning. One man had run to his front window after hearing the sirens, and noticed that it came from the direction of South Street. He mentally "run down a list" of who lived on South Street, and checked off possible victims and possible ailments. (He also generously listed them all for his listeners in the gas station.) Then his phone had rung, and it was Jesse's brother William who told him that the ambulance had stopped at Norma Jean's.

A lady with large curls in her white hair interrupted, "Yes, Betty called me and said she had seen Larry and Pete wheeling Norma Jean out on a stretcher. I sure hope they covered her good and tight. The cold gets into your bones nowadays, and that's not much help if you're already sick." She tisked her tongue, and I watched her curls bounce in a lively fashion from side to side with her head.

A small man with dark leathery skin and multitudes of wrinkles piped up in a voice that sounded like sandpaper scraping sandpaper. "But why did they drive in the direction of THE BIG CITY? Joella saw for herself that they headed West on the highway. Not East. Why would she need to go to THE BIG CITY?"

A grave question indeed. The gas station was silent for a moment, and then the Lady With The Large Curls bobbed her head again. "Well, you know who has a police radio." She looked significantly at Beth behind the counter. Beth looked startled to be looked at so significantly, and she hesitated. "Oh?"

"That's right," Large Curls went on. "As long as she's home to listen to it, she can tell us all about it later today."

Beth suddenly understood who you know who was, and she nodded in agreement.

Several of the people standing around also seemed to know who was being referred to, and they took obvious comfort in the knowledge that they would soon know why Norma Jean had been taken to THE BIG CITY.

I must have had a huge grin on my face when I arrived at the checkout counter, because Beth grinned back at me and said, "Small towns. Everyone needs to know, you know." She winked as I left the store.

This morning, I totally thrashed my babysitter's son and his friend in a knock-down, drag-out, no holds barred snowball fight with the help of my new van -- with whom I have finally bonded.

Liberty and I pulled into Chris's driveway early this morning. Since there was a two-hour delay for school, her eleven year old son Blake and his friend were in the driveway pretending to shovel. I innocently turned the engine off as usual and pushed the button that opens Liberty's sliding side door, the one facing the boys so that she could enjoy the ensuing hilarity. Then I climbed out of the driver's side of the van, conveniently placing the van between me and the boys. Without catching their attention, I quietly collected several snowballs on the ground on my side of the van, then with an Indian war whoop, I began pelting them with the missiles.

Blake and his friend looked up in surprise but quickly retaliated. One boy made snowballs while the other searched for me. After a few seconds, Blake asked, "Where is she?"

"Hiding!" I taunted from my spot behind the van. I used the rear tire to cover my feet and the tinted windows to disguise my shoulders and head. Then I tossed a larger chunk of snow over the roof of the van. It hit squarely on target, covering both of the boys in powdery white. They yelped, and I heard Liberty laugh from inside the van. What a wonderful sound!

I felt fairly safe, until they charged me! They both came running around the back end of the van. I screamed and took off running around the front. I took a hit, and in my retreat, quickly searched the ground for a pre-made ball of fluff. I found two and scooped them up on the run, tossing them quickly over my shoulder at the boys. One found it's mark, but the other fell short. While the boys stopped to find more missiles, I found a snowbank and took advantage of it's possibilities. More balls and better coverage. Those kids didn't stand a chance.

From my new vantage point, I could see Liberty's face. She thoroughly enjoyed our fight, and I know she wished she were part of it. Every time a ball hit, she would squeal with delight. After a few minutes, I knew I needed to quit so I could be at work on time. I leaped from my spot, pelting the enemy with as many balls as I could carry. I rushed to Liberty's side, and unbuckled her, taking MANY hits in the back from those cowards! Liberty laughed the entire time. We raced to the front porch together, Liberty bouncing in my arms, and entered the safety of the front door.

Chris and I calmly chatted while de-coating Liberty and petting the dog. But all the while I was plotting my escape route. I knew the boys would be waiting for me outside, so I deliberately took longer than usual. When I finally guessed that they would have lost interest, I quietly slipped out the front door, and tiptoed to the driver's door on my van. They were standing at the end of the driveway, their backs to me, discussing something tactical, I'm sure. From my fort behind the van, I made several more snowballs, trying to judge my time wisely. As I bent down to make one last snowball, I heard Blake's voice, "THERE SHE IS!!!!" He hissed the words "quietly" to his partner. I heard quick scraping sounds as they drew closer, and knew they were planning an ambush. I had to beat them to it. So far, they did not know how long I had been out there, and they did not know that I had been occupying myself creating ammo.

Holding the hem of my coat with one hand, I used the other hand to dump all my ammo into the concave loading zone. Then with my good throwing arm, I lofted ball after ball into the air over the roof of the van. Through the windows, I could see many of them hitting their targets. Blake and his friend rushed toward a huge hill of snowballs that they must have been making while I was inside, but they were too late. I finished off my final rounds, and hurriedly hopped into my van. Gleefully chuckling at their inability to reach me, I started the engine, and put her into reverse. By this time, the boys realized their impending loss, and began hurtling balls into the side of the van. Thankfully, the balls exploded softly into harmless white powder on contact, so Abbie was not hurt. I backed out of the driveway and rolled my window down once I was in the street. Grinning triumphantly, I stuck my green-gloved hand out of Abbie's window and lazily waved at the boys as I drove down the street.

I'm going to have to drive a tank back to Chris's house this afternoon when I pick up Liberty. They'll be waiting for me.

"God With Us" by Mercy Me:

Who are we that You would be mindful of us?

What do You see that's worth looking our way?

We are free in ways that we never should be. Sweet release from the grip of these chains. Like hinges straining from the weight, my heart no longer can keep from singing!

All that is within me cries for You alone to be glorified, Emmanuel God with us. My heart sings a brand new song. The debt is paid! These chains are gone, Emmanuel God with us.

Lord, You know our hearts don't deserve Your glory. Still, You show a love we cannot afford. Like hinges straining from the weight, my heart no longer can keep from singing.

All that is within me cries for You alone to be glorified, Emmanuel, God with us. My heart sings a brand new song. The debt is paid! These chains are gone, Emmanuel, God with us.

Such a tiny offering, compared to Calvary. Nevertheless I lay it at your feet.

All that is within me cries for You alone to be glorified, Emmanuel, God with us! My heart sings a brand new song. The debt is paid! These chains are gone, Emmanuel, God with us! :-)

Deuteronomy 31:4 "Even if you have been banished to the most distant land under the heavens, from there the LORD your God will gather you and bring you back."

I had my first baby-doctor appointment on Friday. A few snags along the way made it interesting, such as I thought the appointment would last about 30 minutes, and I told Craig I'd be right back in the office. The appointment actually took two and a half hours, and I couldn't get any cell phone coverage while in the building. Then, when I FINALLY left the building, my cell battery had died, making it still impossible to call work and inform them of my whereabouts.

Also, Jeremy was supposed to meet me 15 minutes prior to my appointment so that we could arrive together, but instead, he overslept. Thankfully, my lovely nurse offered to let me use her cell phone to call Jeremy and give him directions to my invasion room.

I mean my interrogation room.

No, that's not right either. Hmm, what are those little rooms called?

Ironically, they drew four vials of blood THEN gave me a flu shot. Just logically speaking, don't you think a person would need all of their blood to help fight off a flu infection? I'm not a doctor, so I'm just wondering.

Over the weekend, I became DREADFULLY, DEATHLY ILL with the flu. Go figure. Thankfully, Jeremy and Kimmie did a great job taking care of me. Oh, and of Liberty.

I have a very nice family. :-)

We had the best time last night, trying to caucus.

Two weeks ago, I looked up the caucus location on the Internet. The Internet told me that for my district, I needed to go to the local high school. I read that information, relieved that I wouldn't have to drive so far. The high school is only a mile or two from our house. Then a friend of mine told me that the caucus would be held at the middle school instead. I knew that I would need to drive 15 - 20 minutes away to a town that I had previously never been to, so I mapquested directions to the middle school.

I rushed home after work and quickly threw a casserole together for supper. Liberty and I then rushed out of the house to pick up Kimmie from cheerleading practice in another town 15 minutes in the opposite direction, making my total trip to the caucus about a 40 - 45 minute drive. We were late leaving her school, so I sped down the highway, knowing that the caucus doors were supposed to close at exactly 7:00 PM. In my mind, I imagined being stopped by a police officer for speeding and begging him to escort me in my hurry to the caucus, but that situation never presented itself.

My printed directions informed me that I needed to make a right off of the dark rural highway at some point, onto a small dirt road. I braked at every turn-off, and at one point even backed up on the highway to revisit a missed road, straining to read the tiny street names printed on the small green road signs. Eventually, we found the right road, and we followed the rest of the directions to...the school's bus garage.

Yes, that's right. I had mapquested directions to the middle school bus garage. Because I'm brilliant like that.

So I parked the car on the side of the road and rang the doorbell of a nearby house. A man answered the door and amidst the raucous barking of his dogs, gave me directions to the actual middle school.

Once at the school, we found parked cars filling the lot and wrapping around the perimeter of the nearest two blocks. I pulled into the lot and found a narrow spot in a line of parallel(ly?) parked vehicles. I nosed the new van in and decided to leave it like that. The only non-parallel(ly?) parked vehicle on the lot. Call me a rebel.

Knowing that the doors were supposed to be closed at 7:00, and it was already 7:15, Kimmie, Liberty and I ran into the school building where we found the entrance manned by five four year olds and one eight year old. The eight year old manfully questioned, "Which party are you with?" Now, I'm registered Independent, but I have decided to vote for Mike Huckabee, Republican, so I told him, "Republican."

"Just down the hall through those double doors into the cafeteria," he pointed. Then he continued his game of tag with the younger children. I smiled, enjoying the innocence and small town typical-ness of this scenario before I headed towards the crowd of people standing in the large room at the end of the hall.

Once there, I quickly found out that my district was meeting at the high school, not the middle school! The high school, if you remember, is located IN MY TOWN, NEAR MY HOUSE, AND I KNOW WHERE IT IS. Kimmie and I looked at each other and sighed. Then we raced back to the van with Liberty gleefully giggling all the way there. She loves for me to run while I'm carrying her. I slid on a large patch of ice just before reaching the van, and she thought that was the greatest way to end our run.

Kimmie and I laughed and joked about our adventure all the way to the high school, 15 minutes BACK to our town. We pulled into the high school parking lot and swirled the van around on some more ice. Knowing that there would be no parking spots left, I pulled onto the sidewalk directly at the front door. I planned on being the last one in, and the first one out. But my plan was not to be.

I had not even turned off my engine or headlights when people began pouring out of the building. Kimmie snorted, "Look! It's over! We're too late!" and then dissolved into helpless laughter. I joined her merriment, thinking of the ridiculousness of our frantic last hour of travel and how useless it had been.

Really, you should have been there. We were so frantic while trying to get there on time, and backtracking on dark roads, and sliding on ice, and ringing strange doorbells, all in our quest for patriotic freedom.

Some people go to Iraq; some people try to caucus!

Yesterday afternoon, I drove to Osky about 20 minutes away to return some faulty PS2 games that Kimmie had purchased with her Christmas money. The benevolently smiling sun and perfectly blue skies attempted to hide the fact that it was only FOUR DEGREES outside my new van.

(I'm struggling to name the van because I haven't bonded with it yet. Jenny, Carrie and Cindy Lou told me their names when I first met them, but this van is giving me the silent treatment. I'm not sure if it's shy or aloof.)

Snowy fields reflected the sunshine. Rolling hills hid large farmhouses from view until the last second. I began playing a one-sided game of hide and seek with the houses, and ended up analyzing their personalities as I passed them. Some rambled in various directions, haphazard homes with a laid back, welcoming air about them. Others stood ramrod straight, windows marching in orderly lines across the front. Some sagged dejectedly with stubborn shutters clinging precariously. I wondered what stories they could tell of happier, family-full times.

On the way home, I assigned myself a reconnaissance mission. We have been invited to a party on Friday, to a home that we have never visited before, and I needed to scope out the lay of the land so that we could find the house with minimal losses on the day of the party. I found the road leading off the main road into the country, so I believe we can make it safely there. However, the directions I have been given show many twists and turns after the road that I found, so we may have a great adventure yet.

Speaking of adventures, tonight is CAUCUS night! I've never caucused before, and I am excited about it. The meeting place is in a small town fifteen minutes away, and I have never been there before. I mapquested it this morning. It looks easy to get to, but I'm a little iffy on the first turn. I hope we get there in time!

We just spent a weekend at my parent's house with all but one of my brothers and sisters and their spouses and dogs and children and toys and clothes and STUFF. And, oh my, it was FUN!!!!!

And way too short.

We arrived at home around midnight last night, tossed everything from the new van into the house and crashed in bed. I am *really* looking forward to going home after work today and cleaning it all up. (She typed sarcastically.)

On the way home last night, Jeremy and I kept each other awake and entertained by mentally designing our basement. We're planning to rent an excavator and dig out a spot for our new French doors in our new walk-out basement. When we finished the basement we decided to build a sun porch, complete with hot tub and play area for the kids...since money is no object, you know.

Our imaginary construction company reminded me of all the times when my mom and I would play "Dream House" together while I was growing up. She and I would hang out in the living room, Mom sipping a steamy cup of coffee and me dangling an open book in one hand. We dreamed aloud, she and I, and together designed and decorated beautiful mansions and cozy cottages, beach houses and farm houses. Dreaming together with Jeremy last night took me back to those days of laziness and laughter, safety and warmth. And of course, the smell of strong, black coffee.

Many, many things have been happening in our lives, but for some reason, I've had a loss of words to describe them. They are easy to describe. Why can't I write?

In November, we found out that we are having another baby! Yay for us! Unfortunately, this has supremely increased my already incredible nostril powers, and I can now smell everything in the entire world. In fact, the sweater that I am wearing right now is emitting a faint odor of kitty litter. We do not have a cat, and I have not worn this sweater to anyone's house that has a cat. Yet I smell kitty litter. Where is it coming from?

I just took the sweater off and sniffed it thoroughly. The smell is not coming from the sweater. Where is that cat! I'm at the office right now. No cats here. I believe my nose is leading me to insanity. Maybe I am smelling a cat who lives three blocks away. Yes, that is probably it.

Moving on.

Last night, we purchased a minivan. A minivan. We are officially old.

It was pretty incredible to see how God worked all of this out. We knew that Jenny would not be able to hold another car seat, so we stopped off at a dealership on Saturday to casually check out larger vehicles. A salesman named Rich talked with us about our needs, and we informed him that we owe more on Jenny than her blue book value so trading in would add about $4,000 to the price of any vehicle we chose to purchase. In addition, because of the new baby, we were actually looking for LOWER monthly payments than we already had. He absorbed all of our information and then offered us a test drive in a hideously ugly van that had NONE of the features we requested and payments that were almost double our current payments. We kissed him goodbye rather quickly and drove out of the dealership with him hanging on our bumper, begging us to stay.

On Monday, Christmas eve, he called my cell phone and invited us back to the dealership because he thought he had found the perfect vehicle for us. I hung up.

On Wednesday, he called my cell phone again. I gave him Jeremy's number because I'm sneaky like that. Jeremy told him in NO UNCERTAIN TERMS exactly what we were looking for and exactly what price we needed our payments to be. Rich hung up.

On Thursday, Rich called Jeremy and described the minivan that he had picked out for us. The payments were five dollars higher than our goal. Jeremy decided that we would go look at the van that evening. When we arrived at the dealership, we looked at all of the white minivans in the lineup, trying to guess which one Rich had chosen for us. We both picked the same one, and hoped that it was THE ONE because we liked the looks of it better than the others. We found Rich, and he took us straight to our chosen one for a test drive.

Long story short, we bought it. The payments are drastically lower than what we've been paying for Jenny. The mileage is lower than Jenny's. The inside is bigger than Jenny. All around, the van is much better for our family than Jenny.

And I'm thankful.

But I really miss Jenny.

Instead of talking out loud to God when I'm spending just some daily quiet time alone with Him, I usually write letters to Him. This keeps my hyper little brain from jumping between three or four topics and never finishing any of them. Last night while I wrote to God, I considered the abundance of people throughout time that have existed on this earth. I thought about what I have to contribute and about how HUGE God is, and how small I am.

In humility, I wrote, "My Master, my Redeemer, my Carpenter, I am nothing special. I am not righteous. I am not worthy..." And while I wrote, the Holy Spirit gently whispered in my heart, "God thinks you're special. He died for you. God counts your faith as righteousness. He has made you worthy."

At work, Craig has been researching a new type of investment where the client pays a certain amount to gain access to this investment. Craig, a self-proclaimed "Tightwad Dutchman," hesitates to charge clients for this service because he is unsure that it will be perceived as valuable by every client. He and I have discussed several times in the last week, what is value? And we have concluded that each person assigns value differently. While one client may choose to accept the fee based on the value of the service provided, another client presented with the same choice, may decide to forgo the added service, assessing it as without value to them.

All of this logic flooded my brain, while the Holy Spirit whispered to my heart. And I realized something: God has assigned value to me. He valued me enough to pay for me. And since God is the Master of the Universe, His opinion matters!

Guess what? On Thursday, I will host my very first family Thanksgiving!

Last year, we collaborated with our friends for the holiday. They brought the meat, and we supplied the house and the fixings. This year, our family is driving to our house, and I get to make all the food, clean the house, put on my apron and pearls and high heels and greet our guests happily at the door. I am SO EXCITED! I feel like a real grown-up.

Also...

I've never made a turkey before.

Send chocolate!

My friend sent me this link to the 2008 Presidential Candidate Calculator. (Thanks, Kristin!)

http://www.vajoe.com/candidate_calculator.html

It asks you a series of questions and gives these instructions: Mark the column for Yes if you support the issue and No if you oppose it. After that, select how important the topic is to you. If you are unsure or have no opinion on a topic, just mark the Unsure column. You will be scored based upon how well you match the current views of each of the 2008 presidential candidates. The calculator also supplies a description of each topic for your convenience.

My top candidates turned out to be:

1. Mike Huckabee - 87.10% match
2. Mitt Romney - 87.10% match
3. Fred Thompson - 83.87% match
4. Sam Brownback - 80.65% match

I am now off to do some more research on these particular candidates. Hey, call me a nerd, but at least I'm a patriotic nerd! :-)

Our family doctor called on Friday.

He said that the CBC conducted at the hospital showed all of Liberty's blood to be in the upper normal range! The two tests done in our family doctor's office were incorrect.

There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with Liberty, and in fact, the brilliant spot light provided by the CBC dispelled the shadow lurking in our corner for good.

Thank you, God! Whatever the outcome, You are worthy to be praised. (But personally, I like this outcome the best.)

PS> Thank you, also, to all of our friends and family who contacted us to pray and support. It's nice to be loved like that :-)

I have not talked about this before, mainly because so far it has just been a lurking shadow in my life, vaguely threatening, but never coming out into the open to do harm. But now, the shadow has moved slightly from it's corner of darkness towards the lighted room where my family lives and laughs and loves.

You may remember the blog that I posted about my brother Peter. If not, you will need to read that post to understand what I am about to write. Our baby girl, Liberty, was born with a few of the physical characteristics that people with DBA demonstrate. Because of those characteristics, her pediatrician in the hospital ran some blood tests for us. He found some anomolies, but nothing exceptionally out of place, and so together, we decided to "keep an eye" on her symptoms.

Liberty Grace turned one at the end of September. At her one year checkup, her hematocrit was low. Not drastically, just one point lower than the range. Our family doctor, a different one than the pediatrician at the hospital, prescribed iron and asked to see her again in one month. Although, I knew a low hematocrit could be a sign of the DBA rearing it's head, I chose to wait a month and administer iron.

Yesterday, I took Libby back to the family doctor for a second hematocrit to see if the iron had helped. It had not. In fact, she is four points lower than last month. Our doctor told us to go immediately to the hospital where they would conduct a CBC to distinguish specific levels of platelets and red and white blood cells. They told me a doctor would call me the following morning to give me the results.

So now, we wait.

I utterly despise waiting. I usually focus on the unknowns and begin to worry. I would rather know that something is wrong, than wait to find out about it. Last night and this morning, I had some long talks with God, and I have chosen to fasten my heart to these facts:

1. God is ALWAYS good.
2. God is ALWAYS in control.
3. If He chooses to do something that I would not choose, like
letting Liberty have DBA, He is still GOOD.
4. So I will praise Him. No. Matter. What.

That is my choice.

Lovely drips of color trickled onto my windshield this morning. As my car passed a maple tree, vibrant reds and oranges leaked down. Warm buttery gold dropped from another nearby tree. Everywhere, sizes and shapes stormed from their upright homes. Large chunks of beige sedately floated to the ground while tiny greens and yellows skipped and flipped happily towards the earth.

I watched as a mother and child holding hands on their way to school walked in the rain of colors. A small boy with a bookbag on his back trudged through the sunny leaves, oblivious to the shower around him. I imagined myself in the swirling drizzle of leaves, raising my face and hands to God, enjoying the beauty of His autumn. My heart delightfully kicked piles of calico carpeting into the air. My arms scooped up loads of lightweight, vibrant paint. God's paint-chips.

Kimmie, Liberty and I finished our drive to school pointing and aaahhing at God's creation. How beautiful He has made our Fall!

James 4:14 & 17 "Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes...Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins."

We had a full weekend together as usual. Friday's sunny afternoon found us speeding driving leisurely along the highway towards Newton for Kimmie's permit test. She did not pass the test, but she plans to study again and retake it. Realistically, I would have been surprised if she had passed it this past Friday. She had a book that she was studying from months ago, but she lost it. Since Newton is the only spot to get a replacement book to study from, and it is a thirty minute drive from our house, we decided that it would be a good idea to pick up the replacement book and have Kimmie take the permit test even though she expected to fail it. That way, she could get some practice and see what kinds of questions would be on the test. So, this coming Friday, we are going to try it again, and she fully expects to pass the test this time.

We stopped off at KFC for Friday night's supper and took home a bucket of chicken and some biscuits, then I creamed Jeremy and Kimmie at a game of Clue. (I rock! Oh yeah!) Jeremy chickened out of a rematch, and Kimmie and I played our own version of Clue with just the two of us.

On Saturday, Kimmie and all the other cheerleaders went to Des Moines to spectate at a cheerleading competition that her school is hoping to compete in next year. They were scoping out their competition. Kimmie came home and reported that she had a headache from watching so many cheerleaders move around so quickly, but she is excited to be part of it all next year.

Jeremy, Liberty and I went shopping with Liberty's birthday money while Kimmie was at the competition. We bought a high chair, some footy pajamas and a potty chair. Liberty inaugurated her high chair Sunday at lunch time. She was quite funny to watch. Because her new seat is actually a booster seat that sits on a dining room chair, she sat at the table and excitedly analyzed our eating habits. She kept grinning and with her wide open blue eyes, watched food disappear from our plates. She really enjoyed watching us eat, and we really enjoyed watching her watching us eat.

Sunday morning, Jeremy and I joined Kimmie's youth group Sunday School class, just to see what they were talking about. Almost 30 teens showed up, and Jeremy and I laughed most of the morning at the comments and antics of the class. Their teacher did a great job of communicating truth, and he was fun to be around. They talked about controlling your tongue, from James chapter five, and the teacher challenged the students to see how long they could go without complaining about something. So Jeremy and I decided to take the challenge ourselves. So far, we're doing great! We'll see how long it lasts!

Jeremy is on day shift this week!!!!!!!! He is on a special team at work, so I get to see him every evening after work. Oh! I am so excited to see him this afternoon! Kimmie has a Bible study after school today with a lady from our old church who she really enjoys being with. Parent teacher conferences are this week, and I'm thankful that this year Jeremy will be able to go with me. I don't like doing parent stuff by myself because it feels very lonely, so I'm really glad that the special team came up during this particular week.

I have more to tell you, but no more time. So I'll continue tomorrow.

I am leaving work early this afternoon to take Kimmie to Newton for her driver's permit test!!!!

We are all VERY excited for her to get her permit, and maybe I'm crazy, but I'm looking forward to teaching her to drive. Jeremy is scared out of his mind about it. (Hm, maybe he is "the only sane one here, " as he tried to quip during a family game night several years ago. Except, back then he accidentally said, "I am the only INsane one here," and he has been trying to live down that slip of the tongue ever since.)

Jeremy has this weekend off, so the four of us are planning to do some serious family hang out time. Think games, movies, popcorn and laughter!

And Kimmie and I have a date with an empty parking lot on Saturday! If I can't type on Monday, you'll know that my hand was broken in a collision with a telephone pole. Send chocolate.