***Edited for better reader-comprehension***

Some things happened a few weeks ago that sent my trust in God into a tailspin. I won't go into detail about what occurred, but because of these events I started to wonder how God could possibly be called consistently good. I started to wonder why He would choose to respond "yes" to certain requests and "no" to other requests that were equally if not more significant. I started to wonder if praying was worth the breath I would waste.

You know the stages of grief that start out with denial then anger? That's exactly where I was. The first week I was able to continue my daily routine relatively undisturbed at least on the surface. I chatted with neighbors, laughed with my daughters, pondered my way through the budget with Jeremy, listened in church, but inside my brain and emotions were reeling; it felt as though a tornado were whipping my thoughts and emotions past my sight so quickly that I could not grasp any one thought and follow it to a logical conclusion. I cried out desperately to God on behalf of all involved, begging Him to miraculously turn this situation into something good. Begging Him to work in hearts to draw us all closer to Him. It took about a week, but eventually the reality of what has happened sunk in. The tornado slowed enough that facts are now visible. It is somewhat of a relief because the lack of equilibrium the tornado brought was unsettling, but there are days when I long for the whirlwind to return with it's confusing numbness. Now that some facts are visible, some consequences are visible, too. Consequences to many more people than just the person who should be paying the consequences. Consequences that are too costly, too painful, too far-reaching to realize their extent right now. As more and more of my thoughts were able to reach their logical conclusions, they caused torrential tears of shock and pain. Those tears in turn transformed into strong, ugly, battle-ready anger and disappointment directed at God.

What is a stronger word than disappointment? Because disappointment is not even close to the correct term. Disgust, maybe? Discouragement? Disenchantment?

I felt like God's true character had finally been revealed to me, and it was not what I believed it to be. Not pure. Not consistent. Not good.

In The Jesus Storybook Bible that I am reading to the girls everyday the first story is about the serpent, satan, whispering to Eve the first lie, "Does God REALLY love you?"

I struggled to pray on, but I began wondering why I was putting in the effort. If God did not say "yes" to someone else's prayer about preventing the situation, why would He be bothered to say "yes" to this prayer of mine about turning the situation to good for all involved? Those questions led to doubt about the true character of God, and the unpleasant ambiguous feelings created by doubt led to anger.

"GOD! WHY DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN? HOW CAN YOU CALL YOURSELF GOOD? HOW CAN YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF? ..... I don't know that *I* want to live with You, anymore."

Have you ever fought with your best friend? Have you ever argued to the point of distance with your husband or wife? Has someone whom you expected to be a permanent, reliable part of your life ever let you down so drastically that there were conflicting feelings in your heart? Feelings like "STAY AWAY!" and "DON'T LEAVE ME!" shouting out at the same time?

That's how I've been feeling about God.

I'm in the middle of memorizing Ephesians chapter four (I've been in the middle of it for about three months now, because I'm slow like that), and verses 14 and 15 keep rattling around in my head. At the most inconvenient times, mind you.

"Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of men in their deceitful scheming. Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into Him who is the Head, that is, Christ."

I knew that I didn't want to base my belief system on circumstances and whatever my emotional reaction to them happened to be. If I did that, my belief system would change whenever my emotions dictated (tossed back and forth by the waves). I also knew that I didn't want to base my belief system on what others tell me is true because who knows where that research came from or what miscommunications or misconceptions occurred during that process (blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of men in their deceitful scheming). I want to be solidly planted on TRUTH alone. Regardless of where that path leads. (Ephesians says it leads to maturity in Christ.)

Jeremy and I briefly discussed The Matrix movie where an entire population of people lived a wonderful make-believe life. For them, choosing to seek the truth led to bleakness and war. Which is the better choice?

I've decided to choose Truth, even if maturity in Christ is not a pleasant, easy or pretty thing.

Huh. I guess that's a "so far" statement to quote Beth Moore in her Annointed, Transformed, Redeemed Bible study. Last night, as I cried myself to sleep, I told God I DIDN'T want to choose maturity in Christ if it meant this much pain for myself and others. But last night was BEFORE God came and talked to me.

You people reading this need to know that what is pouring out of my keyboard is not at all what I planned to type right now. These words are streaming straight from my heart and surprising me as I type them.

This past week (the week where I faced the situation full-fledged, the week where my anger burned and my confusion confused me), I have struggled back and forth with the "GOD, STAY FAR AWAY!" and the "GOD! DON'T LEAVE ME!" feelings. Ephesians convinced me not to make any rash decisions right now, and this post by Liisa (my friend who's husband has died) helped persuade me to hold on. There is more happening than I can currently see. At least, that what the "Don't leave me!" side was telling me.

The "Stay far away from me!" side wondered is God good? Does He plan to say yes to my current prayers about this situation? Does He even care? That last question was hard to ask, because I know God. He's my friend. We enjoy life together and hang out together and have a grand time laughing together and loving together. We've been through HARD TIMES. We've been through life and death situations. We've been through prayers that He has said "no" to. We've been through silences. We've been through devastations. He's always been there. I know He cares. At least, I think I know He cares. I began evaluating my relationship with God: remembering events when He communicated directly to me, sifting through nuances to see if I had misunderstood His personality. And through it all I kept telling Him, "You don't have to prove Yourself to me, because You've already done that several times in the past, but could You just tell me what kind of prayer answerer You plan to be? Could You just help me understand a little bit of what's going on here? There are so many details and so many people affected by this; whenever I start to think I understand all the repercussions, I turn a corner and find a whole new set of results and feelings that overwhelm. I just need to know You're God. You're good. You're trustworthy."

I'm so thankful that He welcomes honest questions. I'm so thankful that He doesn't turn away from fearful doubters.

And you are never going to believe what happened next.

1. Jeremy has been away on a business trip for several days. Around midnight last night, I was writing all my questions and rantings to God in my prayer journal (it was the first time I have clearly attempted to put all these random accusations into understandable words), and Jeremy called to say goodnight. When I told him what was going on in my heart, he was able to immediately help me bring several aspects of life into focus, weed through the outlying issues and get straight to defining the real problem. I know that sounds cold and clinical, but it helped me let go of the lesser problems so that I didn't feel so overwhelmed. Then with my big problem defined, I could search for solutions. In the meantime, Mercy began vomiting in her crib, so all forward progress was halted, but I hung up the phone with a sense of purpose and hope, and I slept peacefully...when I was finally able to get back to my bed.

2. This morning, a lady from church called me. She told me that God had clearly prompted her to call and tell me the following message. Then she proceeded to define thoughts that I had not yet attempted to evaluate myself. She described EXACTLY how I had been feeling (even feelings that I had not yet discussed with Jeremy), and she told me, "Missy, God loves you. He IS good, always. He knows you are overwhelmed not just by this big situation, but also by many smaller ones that are swarming you right now," and she named a few of them. She spoke specific things that she could have no knowledge of on her own, and it was word for word what I had said to God in my prayer journal the night before. Then she prayed for me. She prayed that I would know truth. She prayed that I would be useful. She prayed for my relationship with God to be sturdy and wonderful. She prayed specific requests for everyone in all of the multiple situations surrounding my life right now. She had not yet finished praying when I realized God was hugging me.

He stopped the spinning of the earth and the holding up of the stars and the polishing of the sun to speak directly to me. He used my own carefully worded questions to give me specifically worded answers. While Rosemary's voice sounded in my ear, it was so obviously God's voice speaking to my heart. In the movie Arsnic and Old Lace when Johnny comes home with a distorted face from too many bad plastic surgeries, and he is trying to convince his aunts that it is really him, he uses instances from their mutual past that only family members would know about as proof. That's what God did for me yesterday. He used my own privately written prayer journal sentences and put them in Rosemary's mouth to prove that it was Him, to prove that He loved me, to prove that He was aware of the situation and WITH us all.

And He didn't have to. Who am I that God would feel the need to prove Himself to me? I'll tell you who I am. I am His daughter. He loves me! Just like He loves every single person on this planet.

Have you ever been hugged by a Holy, Powerful, GOOD God? Peace and joy and absolutely certain security flooded inside me. I'd like to tell you right now how it felt, but the only thing I can express is the lack of tension. The lack of stress. The knowledge that things are just as they always have been -- life hasn't changed -- but somehow, everything is different. All the stress I had been storing in my muscles released at once. My body felt as though it had just received the most relaxing massage known to man. My face was not wide enough for my smile to extend the way it needed to. I jumped up from the rocking chair with the phone still pressed to my ear. My friend continued to pray, not knowing what God was doing on the other end of the line. My joy was so big, it could not stay contained inside my body, and it tried to come out of my mouth. I stammered through an attempt to tell Rosemary what was happening, but there are not words to describe God's hugs. I thought I'd be able to tell you guys what it was like, because I'm better at writing than I am at finding the best words out loud. Unfortunately, I'm realizing now that even by writing about it, I cannot express it fully.

All I know is this: God is GOOD. He can make ANY SITUATION work for the best, but we have to let go of our death grip on our own blueprints and bow to His unseen prints.

Trust me, friends. HE IS GOOD.

If you've knelt beside the rubble of an aching, broken heart,
when the things you gave your life for fell apart,
you're not the first to be acquainted with sorrow, grief, or pain,
but the Master promised sunshine after rain.


Hold on my child; joy comes in the morning!
Weeping only lasts for the night.
Hold on my child; joy comes in the morning!
The darkest hour means dawn is just in sight.


To invest your seed of trust in God, in mountains you can't move.
You have risked your life on things you cannot prove,
but to give the things you cannot keep for what you cannot lose
is the way to find the joy God has for you.


Hold on my child; joy comes in the morning!
Weeping only lasts for the night.
Hold on my child; joy comes in the morning!
The darkest hour means dawn is just in sight.

(William J and Gloria Gaither, 1974)

The Sunshine Award: The Sunshine Blog Award is awarded to bloggers whose positivity and creativity inspire others in the blog world.

Thank you for this award, Que!

Que and I have been reading and commenting on each other's blogs for a little while now, and I have to tell you, his posts are the ones that I laugh at every single time. (Well, there was that one time when he wrote about computers, and I didn't get anything he said. That time I didn't laugh, but all the other times I did.) Que's Daddy Mind works EXACTLY the way Jeremy's mind works, and so I just can't help but laugh when I read something on Que's blog that Jeremy has ranted about repeatedly to me through the years. Also, Que and his wife have three girls, the two youngest are the same ages as my two, so their antics crack me up. (It also helps to know that while I'm reading Bad Kitty fifty-eleven times every day, some other poor soul is likewise enjoying that book on a daily basis. And truly, it is a fun book. It's just that after the nine-hundred-twenty-seventh time reading it that week, it can start to lose it's charm.)

The rules for accepting the award are:

1. Put the logo on your blog or within your post
2. Pass the award to 5 bloggers
3. Link the nominees within your post
4. Let them know they received this award by commenting on their blog
5. Share the love and link to the person from whom you received this award
6. Share 5 things about yourself


Step one: Logo in my post, check.
Step two: Pass the award to five bloggers

• My new-found blogging friend "PJ The Great" writes Confessions of a Sugar Addict where she mixes humor with some real-life issues like infertility and self-esteem. I love the fact that she keeps it real about what she's struggling with, but she also keeps it funny.


• Tiffany Anne from In Pursuit was the very first blog on which I ever lurked. (I'm famous for my lurking abilities.) It just so happened that I was bored one day, and I clicked the blogger link "Next Blog." After a few clicks, I landed on Tiffany's site, and the rest is history. I loved the glimpses she gave of her heart as she followed Jesus in daily life. I've followed her through almost three years now, and enjoyed reading as she met the love of her life, then dated, broke up, dated again, and now they are married! Somewhere along the line, the two of us began emailing each other, and now I count her as my friend. The lines between blogging buddies and real life friends begin to blur. Once when I was having a bad day, she sent me some free beautiful jewelry from her Etsy shop! You MUST go there. Her creations are gorgeous and very affordable! Right now, she and her husband are spending their honeymoon on a mission trip to Bangladesh, so her posts are especially exciting lately.


• My "real life" friend Cathy and I grew up together. We enjoyed sleepovers, giggling and passing notes in elementary school, but we spent less and less time together after she began attending a different high school. We still kept in touch and occasionally spent a weekend together at the mall or playing with my herd of brothers and sisters in our backyard, but when my youngest brother Peter became sick, most of my friendships died off. Not because we didn't care about each other any longer, but because no one really seemed to understand the strange emotions I was now dealing with. One day, Cathy showed up on my porch to tell me that she was pregnant and a little scared. We sat and talked for hours. After her son John was born, she came over again, and I got to hold him. A few months later, he passed away from SIDS. Once again, the two of us stood on that small concrete stoop together, dealing with deep emotions, deep struggles, deep issues. I can't tell you how she was feeling, but the twisted sick feeling in my stomach and the tears choking my throat and burning my eyes at the news were NOTHING compared to her grief. This time it was she who felt compelled to pull away from her friends, not because they didn't care, but because no one our age really understood. Through the years, we have kept in slight communication with each other, and recently through facebook (and my lost phone) we have reconnected. Twelve years have gone by since her bland announcement on my porch stoop of John's death; Cathy has a husband, two more children and a blog, Life After SIDS; she is majoring in psychology, and passionately pursuing her dream of helping others live in their grief. If you haven't yet guessed, I am glad to call her my friend, and thankful that through all of our ups and downs, twists and turns, we are still able to enjoy long phone conversations and heart connections.


• I met my friend Liisa in college; in fact, she and my husband Jeremy dated briefly. (I took steps to ensure that it was briefly! I'll have to tell you that story later.) Liisa married our mutual friend Dan, and after graduation, the two of them successfully carried out their "Six Year Plan." It was to have six children in six years, but during their seventh year two unexpected things occurred: a seventh pregnancy and Dan's home-going. He went home to heaven after a brief fight with a hole in his heart. Liisa's blog, Remembering Dan, chronicles their family's journey since Dan's death. Liisa tells you exactly how she feels, and at times the grief is raw, the anger strong, the questions unanswered, but the peace that passes understanding always shows up. The powerful truth that GOD gives us hope and joy that cannot be defeated by death and pain reassures again and again. I just tested the link above, and found that Liisa's blog is temporarily disabled. Come back and check this link again later until you are able to get through. It will be worth your time, I promise.


• My most recent blog addition has been Snoodlings by Whimzie. Whimzie's posts are generally just as light-hearted and funny as her name suggests, but Whimzie, too, has gone through and is currently walking through the valley of the shadow of death. Her father lost his fight with cancer a short time ago. (I'm not sure how long ago, since I am a new follower of hers, and I haven't read her archives.) Whimzie and her husband have three children aged about five to ten years old (again, I'm not sure on my figures). She grew up in a Bible-believing church and embraced it's teachings whole-heartedly, but watching her father's decline into the pain and suffering that eventually took his life shook her faith to its core. Since then, she has been questioning what she believes and why she believes it. I love the honest way she faces her questions head-on, diligently searching for TRUTH, not just platitudes. Her light-hearted posts are enjoyable and will have you laughing out loud; her truth-seeking posts will cut straight through and resonate in your soul.

Now I'm supposed to tell you five things about me, but that's crazy talk. We all know I wouldn't be able to choose just FIVE wonderful-slash-interesting things. There are simply too many, and I would be doing you a disservice by limiting my self-promoting list. So I'll skip that step! Have a great time reading my friends' blogs!

I'm in a writing sort of mood, but my manuscript is...you guessed it...in storage. I can't seem to do anything else but dream of fictional characters, right now.

And laugh at Jeremy's computer game.

He is playing Age of Empires II, which means he commands an entire race of people, builds towns and cities with them, then TRIES TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD (said in my best Pinky & The Brain voice). Just now, he commenced yelling at his troops, "NO! DON'T KILL THEM!!" His hands flew off the keyboard in the universal frustration gesture familiar to gamers everywhere. I glanced over to see his own Trebuchet operators attacking his own foot-soldiers. All the frantic mouse-clicking in the world could not save them. A few minutes later, when he had finally regained control of his army, I noticed a lone Brit taking a casual stroll around his fully armed French regiment. Incredulously I asked, "Is he seriously just walking right past your guys? What, does he think his bright red coat might not be noticeable?"

Then I remembered the American War for Independence, and I took back my last question.

Our lender notified us that the funding is dwindling in the lending program that we are planning to use to purchase the yellow house. This means that we need to begin the loan application paperwork within a week and a half, or we will not be able to purchase our home. (And even then, the funds may not be available to us anymore.)

I called the Short Sale Department at the bank that holds the mortgage and told them that we may have to cancel our offer unless they are able to hurry up the paperwork (MAJORLY hurry up the paperwork...to almost impossible speeds).

The agent that I spoke with named Danny was unable to pass my message on or tell me who the case manager for our house is because I did not have the seller's loan number or social security number (security measures with which I whole-heartedly agree). I asked him if my realtor could call him, and he gave me his phone number to pass on.

When our realtor called that number, she reached a lady who told her that there was no one by the name of Danny in her Short Sale Department but that there were Short Sale Departments all over the US. The woman listened to the message that we wanted to pass on to the bank, and then she responded that for security purposes, she could not pull up the information on "our" house or pass the message on to the appropriate personnel.

We have now exhausted every avenue available to us. It looks impossible, or at best, highly, highly improbable. The rest is up to God.

Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God." Mark 10:27

"What's happening with the yellow house?" people ask me on a regular basis. I love getting those questions because it shows that you care, that you're interested in our lives. Or that you're just nosey. (But that's okay; I like nosey people, because I'm one.)

It's been a long and exciting wait due to complications that have come up. In fact, the wait has been so long that Jeremy and I had started looking at other houses, hoping that one would speak to us. Surprisingly, they all spoke to us. Each one told us, "Wait for your yellow house. Don't waste your time looking elsewhere." We finally decided to wait in quietness and peace, and the past several weeks have been restful to my soul.

But the wait may be close to ending!

Our realtor called the other day to say that an appraisal has occurred which will allow the bank to set an acceptable minimum bid limit. The paperwork is in progress to give the bank rights to sell the house, and soon (hopefully) the call for "highest and best" bids will go out to the two parties interested in the house. (We've been praying that the other party will choose to drop out.)

What can you guys do? Well, if you want, you can ask God to put a specific bid price on our hearts to submit when the highest and best call comes, and as always, ask God to help us remain content with whatever He chooses to give or not give us. Also, Jeremy and I refer to the house as "God's House" because of all the ways He has worked throughout the twisting circumstances surrounding it. Whether we get the house or not, God is obviously using it to draw others to Himself. We know for sure that some hearts are being spoken to by the Holy Spirit through these events. You can pray for those hearts along with us.

I'm beginning to get excited, and I don't even know for sure if the wait is ending.

It's the time of year when the bloggers that I read begin telling of their gardening habits. People, you need to know something about me.

"My name is Missy..."

long, shameful pause

"and..."

"and..."

"and I kill plants."

My grandpa has a green thumb. No, forget that; his entire arm from the elbow down is green -- vibrantly, lusciously green.

Mine is black. BOTH of my arms are.

I have adored the idea of gardening for as long as I can remember. When I was fourteen(?), I talked my dad into letting me dig up a patch of grass near our house so that I could plant flowers. I used a shovel and a hoe and tore up that sod myself. Then I pulled out the clumps, churned up the soil, mixed in beautifully black fertilized dirt, and finally raked it all into a smooth, fertile-smelling canvas. It took me at least a week if not longer. I drew up garden diagrams; I poured over gorgeous full-color seed magazines; I chose my seeds, and I bought them myself. I planted those seeds according to the package directions and according to the diagrams I had dreamed up. I watered, fertilized and carefully guarded that garden. (With seven younger brothers and sisters who love mud, guarding was a full time job.)

Then I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

After three months, I asked my dad how long it should take before my seeds started sprouting above ground. That patch of dirt remained barren, mocking me the entire year. The following spring, I pulled up the weeds that had crowded in, and started all over again. With the same results. I can't explain it. My dad couldn't explain it. Not one seed sprouted. Not one! And I planted a lot!

When I moved into my first apartment, my mom gave me a potted African Violet. (We have a running history with African Violets, she and I, and the plant was the PERFECT gift.) She told me how hardy they were and easy to care for.

I killed it within three days, and I promise you I followed all the instructions to a T. My mom was flabbergasted. She questioned me thoroughly about my care for it and told me it was impossible to kill that plant so quickly.

She bought me another one.

It lasted a week.

Then Jeremy took pity on me and presented me with some fake daffodils in a pretty pot. I still have them...in a box...in storage. (But we won't go there, right now.)

There are many more deaths that I could report, but I think you're getting the picture.

Anyway, I say all that to tell you how excited I am about the possibility of moving into a house (hopefully) soon. I plan to kidnap a real, live gardener, and have that person show me step by step how to garden.

Or I may just have the gardener plant everything for me while I dig in the dirt nearby pretending to plant so that my black arms don't destroy the seeds before they even have a chance.

Saturday, we strapped the girls into the car and drove to a gorgeous outdoor mall where we laughed, held hands, skipped and chased each other in the sunlight between stores. Truthfully, I would have rather been at a park, but Jeremy loves shopping. Or at least his version of shopping which includes trying on everything, choosing which items he plans to purchase, carrying them around the store, asking salespeople intricate, involved questions that require researched answers and then putting everything back and leaving. It used to frustrate me to no end, but now it just frustrates the sales personnel who haven't had thirteen years to get used to his oddities.

I found a wonderful shop called The Rustic Hutch and took pictures of all the home furnishings that I loved. The owner of the store came to me and inquired hopefully, "Are we about to be featured in Architectural Digest?" I laughed and informed her that my friend told me to take pictures of anything that I loved so together we could name my decorating style. (I'm anticipating a house, you see.)

When the girls became tired of walking, they sat in the double stroller and took turns kicking each other's backs and pulling each other's hair. They had a lovely time.

We stopped for lunch at a Chik-Fil-A with a playground and ended up staying for a few hours. The other kids were friendly, and a rousing game of hide-and-seek entertained them a while.

Then back to shopping again where Jeremy had a major realization, and upon his announcement of it, I sang the Hallelujah Chorus. Loudly. To the amusement of the passersby. He has decided that the T-shirts he wears to relax in are stained and holed beyond wear-ability! Can I get a testimony? I've tossed them into the trash on numerous occasions, but he insists on rescuing them. From that point on, we shopped for T-shirts. Since this has never occurred in our relationship before, I assumed that T-shirt shopping would be different from normal Jeremy shopping, but no. It is not. We returned home late that evening with nothing but groceries to show for an entire day of "shopping."

But he's MY man, and I love him.

He'll just have to go shirtless next weekend when he discovers that all of his ratty old T's have been burned while he was at work.

Hmm, shirtless, I like that idea.

Today, we slept late and missed Sunday School. I read to the kindergarten and first graders then to the second and third graders during church service, and afterwards we enjoyed a good, old-fashioned potluck with a table full of friends. I discovered that my children are finally at a stage where they can be trusted to sit in a chair and feed themselves. They can also be trusted to excuse themselves and run and play nicely with friends! Can you imagine that? It's been my dream for lo, these many years. I rocked my friend's baby to sleep, and enjoyed that snuggly warmness as she cuddled into my chest (the baby, not my friend). I also enjoyed watching Jeremy serve us all and clear off the table himself since my arms were full. What a nice man I married!

Now we are home, and everyone is asleep. The apartment sits quietly; well, except for Jeremy's snoring and whoever is gunning their engine outside and the sound of birds cheeping and a door slamming somewhere and someone running up the steps to the second floor... Nevermind! The occupants of our apartment are quiet and peaceful, and I am enjoying my time to blog.

I feel like I'm embarking on an entirely different life today.

I've been...well, not down really, but more serious, I guess? So many things on my mind. Mostly the house business. We're still waiting on an answer to our offer, but as more and more information has hit us, things have started to look pretty impossible. That weighed me down.

Then this insane idea I had to change my lifestyle, I mean, really! What was I thinking? Thirty years of living a certain way, don't lend themselves easily to change. I'll tell you what I was thinking. I thought I'd make a decision, throw in some determination, and viola! Change. HA! I have - as my friend Donette refers to it - fallen off the wagon, climbed back up, fallen off the wagon, climbed back up, fallen off the wagon... Yesterday, I climbed back up again, and right now I'm searching for some kind of seatbelt. But I made a decision, and I've decided to stick to it. There were a few days in there where I wavered on whether it was worth sticking to. I considered going back to normal because it was easy and stress-free. The learning curve on the lifestyle change is a big one, and I wasn't prepared for that. Now, I'm learning to give myself some grace. Instead of getting down on myself when I fall off the wagon (which leads to more and more bad choices), I'm going to say to myself, "Oops! That happens sometimes, doesn't it?" And then enjoy whatever it was that I jumped off for. (Like that double hanging preposition?) After that, I'll climb right back up. No more wallowing for me!

Also, I changed my blog template from my normal, long-term, comfortable brown to that wonderful, lively, white, red, yellow and purple template. I loved the rich, bold colors and the book idea, but I didn't like the fact that the story wasn't the focus of the blog anymore. Instead my face had become the central feature. I went searching through blog templates; I discussed my feelings with Debbie Awful, and together we (but mainly she) fiddled with this template until everything fell into perfect place. Then I spent the last couple days going back through all my old posts and labeling them so the template would work appropriately. That's when I noticed the difference between my recent posts and my older posts. The LIFE is missing!

During this past week that I have spent not blogging, I've been LIVING! Really living! I've gotten back into reading my Bible on a daily basis. I've decided to go to bed when Jeremy does (except for last night), and I'm cutting back on the book reading that I enjoy after Jeremy falls asleep. I want to be alert, awake, alive during the day so that I can enjoy my daughters and my life. I've started speaking up about what I believe and why to my friends and neighbors. I've gotten involved in a new ministry at church called the Mom's Group. In fact, I led the first get together and bombed utterly. But now I have a funny story to tell, and I learned a lot about preparing and praying and getting over my own self-consciousness. I'm currently planning the next get together!

I'm working on projects in my apartment, and looking into some long-term goals for myself. I'm spending a LOT more time on the floor wrestling playfully with the girls or on my feet running up and down the hallway and up and down the sidewalks outside. I spent most of this morning playing Run & Jump with Liberty and Mercy and the couch cushions, and I taught them how to do jumping jacks (the girls, not the cushions). I wish you all could see Mercy "jumping." Too funny for words!

Yesterday, I explored downtown with my new friend Halima. We walked several blocks, pushing our children in their strollers and talking and laughing the entire time. We shopped! I haven't shopped for anything besides groceries since I've been in Indiana, and it felt so good! I have the urge right now to go into minute detail about what I bought and where I found it and what great deals I got, but I will resist. All you need to know is how full my heart feels to have found a friend who wants to hang out with me (we've already got three other hanging-out plans in the works), and you can be surprised along with me at how energizing I have found it to be able to laugh with another woman at things we both have experienced, to get out of the house and not concentrate solely on my children.

Moms are people, too! (If I ran for president, that would be my slogan. What do you think?)

Anyway, my point to all this rambliness is this: I am embracing my purposeful LIFE again with all of its ups and downs, goods and bads, happinesses and disappointments -- and it feels good!

Everything you see on this blog (besides the words inside each post and the general template) was thought of, designed, or tweaked by my friend Debbie. (I call her Debbie Awful, because while we were in college, I once asked her what her middle name was. She replied, "Ugh! Don't ask! It's awful!" Obviously, I took her literally.)

All these years later, our friendship is flourishing, and as a result, the look of my blog is flourishing. Do you realize that she put the Miscellaneous From Missy title and honeybee picture into some kind of jpg file? SHE MADE THAT! I am so impressed.

And so very, very thankful!

...my newest nephew, Titus Maxwell!




He was born to my brother Nate and sister Suzy on March 23rd at 8:38 PM. He weighed 8lbs 6oz and was 20" long.

We love you Titus!

This is my third nephew, now, and I have still another one on the way! Hooray!!!

I have failed in my food choices over and over and over beginning Saturday and continuing on through today. On Saturday, Jeremy returned from his journeys, and the family rejoiced! We enjoyed a wonderful pancake breakfast at a maple syrup farm, and yum! The smells and tastes and love we encountered there filled my heart. At lunchtime, we hit a drive-thru KFC. For lack of any healthier choices, I ordered the 395 calorie plate: two pieces of grilled chicken, cole slaw and green beans -- then I added a 220 calorie biscuit. It certainly tasted good! I didn't really call those two meals failures, it was what followed that qualified for that title.

At some point in the afternoon, Jeremy and I both became discouraged over our lack of house and over our small, dark apartment. Instead of returning home, we began driving aimlessly, claiming that we were searching for land to build on, but we both knew we were just avoiding the apartment.

I'm an emotional eater. I eat when I'm happy. I eat when I'm discouraged. I eat when I'm bored. I'm also a recreational eater. I eat for something fun to do. It doesn't help that Jeremy also eats this way. I have no one to look at me and say, "What in the world are you doing?" I took Liberty into a nearby CVS to use the restroom, and I picked up some chocolate covered cashews on my way out. (I do have to point out that this is a better choice than others I might have made in the past.) I proceeded to consume most of the container.

For supper, we ate at Taco Bell, and I didn't even try to chose something worthwhile. Sunday, I told myself, would be grocery day and time to redeem myself, but in a continued effort to avoid our apartment, Sunday brought more of the same choices.

At last, Monday! Back to a normal routine! I prepared items solely off the menu, and enjoyed a great day.

Until 8:30 PM. My nemesis.

Jeremy had insisted that we purchase a bag of Ruffles, and it called to me from the kitchen. I ignored it. It yelled at me. I walked by the cabinet and attempted to stare it down. It shouted to me, and my tummy awoke and called out happy greetings to the chips. I reminded myself of my commitment to eat nothing or in an emergency only fruit and water after supper. My tummy ridiculed, and I poured some chips into a bowl.

Today I told myself, "Today I will do right." But I didn't. I craved chips and junk food in a way that I have not craved them the past two weeks, and I gave in. I finished off the chocolate covered cashews while the girls napped. I snacked on buttered bread and skipped the good stuff like the fruits and nuts my girls were eating.

While I'm typing this blog, it is 9:30 pm, and I want to say, "Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will do right." But I wonder if I will. My heart was fully engaged in that same promise yesterday and look where I am at the end of this day. But you know what? Tonight, I will talk to my Lord. I will pour out my struggles to Him. He knows how hard this is for me. Tomorrow, He will hold my hand (and my plate, if I let Him), and together we will triumph. One choice at a time.

For now, you want to know something happy? I have succeeded at not snacking after supper this evening.

One point for me!

Oh yes, and one more point: I have been semi faithful at following along with my pilates video the past week or so, and tonight I realized that I am capable of doing TWO exercises that I could not do when I began!

I suppose there is one good thing about failure. It is always in the past.

You've noticed the new blog look, but have you noticed the progress I am slowly making in tweaking everything, thanks to my awesome friend Debbie? She's helped me with tons of details, and she's in the process of fixing my greeting face so it's not slipping into the archives. She also figured out how to link the descriptive list next to the Welcome blurb to various corresponding blog posts, but we have one problem.

We can't figure out which post would match up with the word "Out-Going." What do you think? Do you remember a post that would match that, or would you like to suggest another descriptive word and a post to match?

It would help me sleep at night. Or at least it would help me not stay up so late working on this rearranging of the blog.

This week I added a few new recipes to our menu, and here's what I thought of them.

1. BooMama's Asparagus

Use "our menu" link above to find the recipe.

The asparagus was, in a word, HEAVENLY. It looked, smelled and tasted wonderful. The girls even enjoyed it, and I was afraid they wouldn't. The dish was extremely quick and easy to prepare. Leftovers heated up in the microwave perfectly and stayed crisp. Grade: A+


2. Calle's Apple Burgers

1 pound turkey burger
1 large apple shredded with the peel on
1 Tbs sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
couple dashes of onion powder (except Liberty "helped" me, and she POURED the onion powder in)

Mix all ingredients together, shape into patties and grill. (I used a skillet on the stove top.) Makes five large burgers or a dozen little snack sized ones. Calle' says her girls love eating the tiny ones as snacks. For me, the recipe made eight large ones, but apparently not as large as the ones my friend makes.

The cinnamon and sugar in the recipe scared me at first. I was afraid they'd be dessert-like, but they weren't. They were wonderful! These were also quick and easy to prepare, and BONUS - two different neighbors came knocking to ask what I had cooked. They said the apartment hallway smelled delicious! :-) Liberty and Mercy picked at the new food (I served it plain), but at lunch today I put the leftovers on wheat buns with ketchup and pickles. They gobbled them up. (Ketchup covers a multitude of sins, and yes, I know ketchup isn't healthy, but really.) Grade: A-


3. Chicken Stirfry

1 package frozen oriental vegetables
1/2 c chicken broth
1/2 c apricot preserves
1/4 c soy sauce
1 inch ginger root grated
Crushed peanuts (optional, I omitted them.)

Boil frozen veggies according to the package directions. (I added chopped chicken pieces to the frozen veggies and boiled it all together.) In a small saucepan, combine all other ingredients and simmer. Pour mixture over vegetables, top with peanuts and serve with rice or pasta. I doubled the recipe at Calle's suggestion because I served the veggies over top of brown rice instead of to the side.


I've never prepared anything vaguely oriental, but we love Chinese food from restaurants, so I gamely gave this a try. The process of purchasing the ingredients presented a grand adventure in the grocery store. When I first looked into the freezer case for the frozen veggies, the only ones I found were around $8.00. I accidentally snorted, and a nearby Wal*Mart stocker asked if I was okay. Turns out those packages came with a sauce packet. The veggies-only packages were less than a dollar, and I was quite relieved. After reading all the labels on the chicken broth selection, I chose Swanson's Natural Goodness Chicken Broth - the box says 100% fat free, no MSG, 33% less sodium than our regular product - and I recognized all of the ingredients! I'd tell you what apricot jar I bought, but I've thrown the jar out already. I used one that said all fruit on the label. Another shopper and I had a blast reading the labels of all the soy sauces out loud to each other and trying to decide which was the best. We finally settled on the cheapest, and I told her I was going to put water in the bottle to cut the sodium in half. Then I realized I had no way of knowing whether the added water would change the sodium level, so I told her I'd just pretend it was better for us and leave it at that. The two of us cracked each other up repeatedly, and I wish I'd gotten her name so that we could have become friends. But alas, we parted ways, never to see each other again. And also, whatever perfume she wore smelled incredibly good. Next, I purchased ginger root for the first time in my life, and it thrilled me to an unreasonable extend. I'm really not sure why that was so wonderful for me, but there it is -- the highlight of my grocery trip was picking up a ginger root and taking it home with me.

The stirfry was quick and easy to prepare (which you will notice is important in all of my recipes), and it looked GORGEOUS on the plates. So gorgeous that I actually ran to find my camera.

(And I just now ran to find my camera so that I could show you the pictures, but my camera is nowhere to be found. So you'll have to imagine the beauty that was our supper.)

However, the girls picked the chicken chunks and the rice out and left the veggies. I couldn't blame them. The frozen veggies remained bland even with the sauce, and speaking of the sauce, it turned out very watery, not flavorful. I'm not sure if diluting the soy sauce was such a great idea! If I ever make this dish again (I'd like to give it a fair shot), I would not double the recipe (we had sauce aplenty), and I would wait until the fresh vegetables were in season (that frozen stuff tasted like water.) Grade: D+ but I think I could bring the grade up if I tried it with fresh ingredients. Also, peeling and grating the ginger root blessed my soul! I can't wait to use ginger again in another recipe.

Sun commented a few posts ago, and gave me this link, and after I checked it out, I knew I had to share it with you all. I also plan to send it to our church office so everyone coordinating meals can use it if they want. Thank you, Sun!

I enjoy using this website with Liberty. She may even be learning something from it. What I know for sure is, she loves to click it, she's getting good at certain tasks, and Mercy cheers ecstatically whenever Liberty earns a balloon. I've heard Mercy shouting out letters, numbers and colors as she watches Liberty click. (Make sure you have the sound turned up on your speakers to get the most benefit.)

Thanks for lending me your opinions, everyone. (And by the way, HI, CATHY!) You know, it just occurred to me that the greeting picture does not have to be my face. It could be a picture of anything...as long as I can figure out how to move that Archive box down, but that's a job for another day. I'm exhausted.

The time change has not been kind to our family, and all this messing with the blog late at night has not helped me get my hour of sleep back. Last night, although the girls went to bed at their normal bedtime, Liberty and Mercy were still awake and giggling to each other at 11pm. So today, I instituted the STATE OF EMERGENCY NO NAP DAY. We started off the day right by leaving a fun voicemail for Daddy, then we ate breakfast, cleaned up together, worked out with my pilates video together (kind of), piled up cushions in the middle of the living room and then ran from the opposite wall and belly-flopped onto the cushions. I was surprised at how amazingly good it felt to do that myself. One time I accidentally flipped head-first over the cushions, and the giggling that followed released a lot of stress I've been allowing to build up. Which reminds me, I need to go to bed.

But first I want to finish telling you about our day, because it was just that wonderful, it needs to be shared.

We ate leftover asparagus and potatoes for lunch. I just nuked the bowl full of greens and the three of us each grabbed a fork and shared the bowl. My soul felt good watching my girls dig into the new (to us) vegetable with me and enjoying it. Then we went to the doctor's office where we discovered Mercy has an ear infection (and I'm wondering if I may be working on one, too, because my left ear hurts drastically!) Afterwards, we drove to Wal*Mart to pick up Mercy's Amoxicillin, a case of Aquafina, and new boxers for Jeremy. (You hear that, Jeremy? I found your ever elusive "favorite" boxers, so when you come home, you can be super happy with your underpants! What better way to entice you home, yes?)

On our way back to the apartment, it was revealed to me that our local seasonal ice cream store was once again open for business! I debated quickly. On the one hand, ice cream is not on the healthy foods list that I keep in my head. On the other hand, I've done an amazing job of not indulging in any of my old habits this past week and a half. (Thank You, God.) On the one hand, I don't want to ruin all of my hard work. On the other hand, this is not a "diet," it's a lifestyle, and it's flexible; one ice cream is not a crime for me. On the one hand, will I be able to stop at just one ice cream? You would not believe how painstakingly I researched the pros and cons of this decision. On the other hand, it's a gorgeous, warm, sunny day (and I heard that snow is in the forecast in a few days) so I decided to go, but go as the new Missy, not the old uncontrollable me. I ordered a small vanilla yogurt and requested three dishes. The girls and I split the treat. Aren't you proud of me? I was.

And then I added peanut butter and marshmallow toppings.

Because the sun was shining.

You know?

But the best part for me was realizing that those few bites satisfied me. I didn't have a wild, uncontrollable craving for more. (Please read that last sentence in a tone of wonderment.) I'm actually enjoying my self-imposed "healthy" lifestyle, and I didn't care about the ice cream. I tasted freedom, freedom from the bondage of food, and it tasted good.

We also stopped at the library and paid my over-due fine. Then we picked out Sesame Street's "Do The Alphabet" video and "Dance Along" video, and I got the last two books in the Welcome To Partonville (Dear Dorothy) series that I've been reading. And by the way, I HIGHLY recommend this series. It's by Charlene Ann Baumbich. Read it! You won't regret it.

The girls watched the alphabet video while I made Chicken Stirfry. I'll tell you all about that later. Then we hung out at the park making sand castles with our buckets and shovels. (Grandpa and Nonna, those are the best things you have ever sent -- besides the dress-up clothes.) I single-handedly confronted an evil gang of teenage boys in souped-up cars who were racing around the parking lot, and later when the police asked me to describe them, all I could remember was "three of them had dark hair." Sigh. I guess my spy skills have gone downhill, and just when I finally get to use them!

Bathtime followed, then cuddling my clean-smelling little girls and reading bedtime stories, tucking them in, and seeing with my own two eyes the fact that NO NAP DAY really works! Liberty never attempted a bedroom break. There were no claims of thirst, or needs to go potty. The decibel-level in the bedroom remained at zero.

Amazing!

Well, what do you know? I really did figure it out! But now that I've suddenly realized my headshot will greet me everytime I view my page, the thrill of victory has quickly worn off. Here are three possibilities for the greeting face. Please to be telling me which one I should use?

Number one:



Number two:



Number three:

Okay, I think I've gotten everything except the fake picture taken care of. Hooray for me!!!

Tiffany and Debbie, you offered, so here's my plea (and your chance at being a heroine!!!) (I feel like that word should be spelled differently, although, if you fix my photo problem, I will love you as though I were addicted to you.)

The instructions tell me that I need to change the image url "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg89p9fJw4dsxL6y_WyEY-ky8y7LweemZHaARCVGYhaB-4ep1eYCiSRdsxLjjCI_uBQ7Jhs2X9yJUdNEBwmYghAe9d1Z9tIOgs4PGoxfApf5M43ehPZmqLXSgyyOwPMfAoZQg1fp5H6ytY/s1600/main-img.jpg" with the Image URL I want to have.

Here is the image I want to have:



OH MY GOODNESS! I think I may have just stumbled upon the solution to my migraine! Let me publish this post, and then see if I have figured it out. If you do NOT see a change to that blonde girl, you will know that instead of stumbling on the solution, I really just stumbled, and you will need to send bandaids.

Obviously, I'm making some changes to my blog.

Unfortunately, I haven't figured out how to get that fake picture off yet, but it's three in the morning, and I'm really, REALLY tired. HTML is not my love language!

I'll try again when I have time to work out all the little kinks. If anyone can tell me more about HTML and wants to help out a friend in need, contact me please!

The recurring theme around this blog seems to be food right now. I've mentioned a few times that we are slowly moving towards a healthier lifestyle, and this week, I took a GIANT step.

My menu for the week and my grocery list were made up of items that were either completely whole - meaning only one ingredient like green peppers - or just a few ingredients all of which I understood to be food items, not chemicals. And something I learned from Calle: not one of my purchased items contained high fructose corn syrup!

When I asked for blogging help a week or so ago, Suanna suggested that I post a menu or a recipe. So, Suanna, this is for you! Thanks for lending me an idea.

Tonight - Philly Cheese Steak Sandwiches (thinly sliced sirloin, chopped veggies, cheese, on hoagie buns), Whole Pears

Sunday - Turkey (think Thanksgiving), Rosemary Potatoes (sliced potatoes lightly tossed with olive oil and sprinkled with rosemary and salt, then baked -- my sister Charity's recipe), Citrus Asparagus (BooMama's recipe)

Monday - Apple Burgers (Calle's recipe -- I'll let you know how they turn out), Mashed Potatoes, Leftover Asparagus

Tuesday - Chicken Stirfry (Another recipe from Calle, and if I remember, I'll tell you about that one too after we try it), Rice, Berry Muffins, Pears (Okay, I'll admit it, the berry muffins are a "just add water" mix that I bought several weeks ago. We're finishing off what's left in the house that isn't all natural.)

Wednesday - Eat at church (Hallelujah! Maybe they'll have something fattening!)

Thursday - Tacos, Salad (My favorite meal ever!)

Friday - Pizza Quesadillas, Salad, Kiwi (My mom created the idea of Pizza Quesadillas years ago, and everyone I've ever served it to, loves it -- one tortilla shell, leftover from taco night, sprinkled with shredded cheese, favorite pizza toppings added, a little more cheese on top, then second tortilla shell sandwiches it off. Bake in the oven until cheese is melty and tortilla shells are crisp -- for me that's around 10 minutes at 400. Cut into triangles and serve as pizza slices. Jeremy likes to dip his into pizza sauce. I like to smear sour cream and salsa on mine.) Salad, Kiwi.

I'm very excited about this week. I'm hoping to prove to myself that I am capable of eating healthfully and still enjoying it. Also, I took a drastic step yesterday and poured out all drinks that did not pass inspection and tossed all food that did not pass inspection. (Thankfully, it was grocery day, so there wasn't much food left to toss. I kept the Doritos for Jeremy. Really, for Jeremy. But don't judge too harshly, there was only about a serving left in the bag anyway. A Missy-sized serving, not a label-sized serving. Just enough for Jeremy to enjoy polishing off.)

We spent today at Calle's house where our girls all played together and had great fun. The seven of us went on a walk to the nearby lake, navigated ourselves and our strollers through a giant puddle in the walk way and stopped on a small wooden-slatted bridge to watch the water whoosh its way along. We talked and laughed and our three-year-olds told "funny jokes" to each other that only the two of them understood. Calle and I grinned together, loving the fact that those two "get" each other's very unique sense of humor.


Calle offered to be my nutritionist and dietitian (is that the same thing?), so I'm going to be accountable to her for the food I eat and the exercise I do or don't get each day. I'm very thankful for that! Did I tell you that I've filled our refrigerator with only fresh, unprocessed fruits and veggies? (except for the carrots -- they've been peeled and chopped for me, otherwise I'd never take the time to eat them.)

My accountability call to Calle tomorrow is the only thing stopping me from having a plate of Cool Ranch Doritos right now, so apparently, it's working.

As you know, I've had a bit of a block in my brain. I think the everlasting winter had something to do with it, and the wait to hear about the house has also frustrated me -- which is silly because we knew when we put an offer in that it would take a while to get an answer.

But here are some recently developed items of interest.

It has been sunshining for several days in a row, and our Mud Puddle has finally surfaced! Later this week we are supposed to get rain, so I am trying my hardest to soak up every ounce of sun possible before then. The girls are attempting to soak up every ounce of mud.

As evidenced by [The Splash Stomping Video] & [The Muddy Boots Game Video].

Two of the liens on "our house" have been signed off on by two banks. They have agreed not to receive any money back from the sale of the house. Another offer has been placed on the home, and Jeremy and I now have to evaluate whether our next move should be to increase our offer to some unknown amount and hope it beats out the other one, or to walk away. We're talking to God about that, and waiting on the bank to tell us when our decision time will be.

Jeremy's traveling for the next two weeks, so I've lined up days of fun to keep us occupied and not missing Daddy so much. Today has been ENJOY THE SUNSHINE Day and Do ALL THE LAUNDRY Day. Two activities which are slightly incompatible. So far, I've succeeded in dashing inside to keep the washer and dryer busy, but I guess I'll just save the folding and putting away for when the sun goes down. After all, Jeremy won't be home to see the mountain of clean clothes developing on our bed.

I need some fiber to get this blog going again.

So I'll make some up. Um...

No, I'll let you guys make some up. Give me ideas! Give me questions! Give me something funny! Give me an H! Oh, sorry.

HELP!

Some of these I have posted on my Facebook status, but that is not something I can easily access and read to myself in the future. So I'm going to elaborate on them here.

1. Last week, the sun shone for two days in a row, and Liberty and I couldn't have been happier about it. I just had to go play in it. Liberty looked up at the sky and said, "Mommy! Look at that yellow circle in the sky. It looks just like a sun." Later on, we walked on some dry pavement to get to our car, and Liberty exclaimed in a worried voice, "Mommy! I'm stepping on something!" It took me a few seconds to realize she was referring to the dry ground and truly did not recognize it. I laughed out loud.

2. The girls received helium balloons for Valentines Day, and Liberty spent a good chunk of the day on Monday playing with them. She emptied the toy box (which is a cardboard box leftover from our move) and put the two balloons into the box, then she struggled to keep them inside while closing the flaps on the box. "I'm making a birthday present," she told me. Then she wrapped the box in several blankets and decorated it with beaded necklaces. When she had finally finished wrapping her present, she called her sister over. "Meecee Dane! It's party time! Here's your present!" Mercy came over and gleefully unwrapped the box. When the balloons popped up, Liberty jumped up and down clapping and squealing, and Mercy did the same. Then Liberty would repeat the process. Over and over all day, the two of them played "Birthday" with short breaks in between sessions. At one point, the balloons were being unruly and would not stay in the box long enough for the flaps to be closed on them. After yet another episode of the balloons jumping joyfully towards the ceiling, Liberty reprimanded them with a stern, "NO! IT'S NOT PARTY TIME, YET!"

3. Since we long for summer so much, I unpacked our sand buckets and beach paraphernalia, and the girls and I spent a happy forty-five minutes building snow castles around the outskirts of our patio. Liberty even found a leaf leftover from the fall and stuck it stem-first into the top of her castle. We had an amazingly great time laughing and building together.

4. Mercy Jane tried to take her helium balloon for a walk in the baby stroller, but surprisingly enough, that balloon just wouldn't sit still (ADHD?). Poor Mercy tried and tried to go for a walk, but never got beyond a step or two before having to sit that balloon back down in its seat and shake her finger at it while saying "Noo-noo." I think I quit breathing for a few seconds from laughing so hard!

5. Liberty insists on being called by her first and middle names. She calls herself Yibby Gace and corrects me if I introduce her to someone using only her first name. She also corrects me if I use only Mercy's first name.

6. I think my favorite item of all is the fact that Liberty narrates herself as she goes throughout her days. For example, this morning, I heard Liberty telling her imaginary audience, "One day, Yibby Gace talked to her mommy and said..." then she approached me and asked, "May I have a drink, please?" While I was in the process of answering yes, she turned back to her audience, "And her mommy said yes! So Yibby Gace went to the kitchen..." She narrates most of the day, and it cracks me up! I hope she never stops. Of course, her college roommates might want to request a different room assignment, but oh my goodness the hilarity!

7. Mercy is talking now. Granted, most of the time I have no clue what she is saying, but it is unmistakable that she is using real English words. She'll repeat any word you ask her to say, and a month or so ago, Daddy was playing the "Can You Say ________?" Game where he comes up with a fun word to say, and Mercy repeats it. She was trucking right along, repeating every word he came up with including the big ones like rhinoceros without hesitation when Daddy pulled out "Can you say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?" Mercy paused just a slight second, and then she looked him straight in the eye. "No," she stated truthfully. Oh, how we laughed!

Jeremy and I have decided to change our lifestyle. We joined a gym (I finished my second workout tonight), and we are working on reinventing what we eat. We started by counting calories - Jeremy has a LoseIt! app on his phone, and I have been using livestrong.com to help me track my eating and exercising habits.

Interestingly enough, several incidents in our lives over the past few months have pointed us in the direction of whole foods, and while we are not all the way on board with that idea yet, we want to be. We're still in the information gathering stage (about whole food eating) at this point, and in the meantime, we will continue counting calories.

I started counting calories yesterday, and over shot my goal by about 150. Not bad, I congratulated myself, until the nighttime snackies attacked me. I valiantly fought a mental battle of will-power, giving myself pep talks that the Superbowl coaches would have paid money to hear. I went to bed having WON THE VICTORY, and I dreamed about food most of the night.

Today, I beat my goal by about 700, and in an effort to avoid the nighttime snackies, I went to the gym. Go me! Now, it is almost 10 pm, and I'm not hungry. Yet. I'd better get to bed before the snackies find me, though.

Good night, all!

I find my mind wandering many times during the days and nights to what I've optimistically been calling "our house." I pick out and discard paint colors and furniture. I plan parties right down to the tiniest details. I see the girls RUNNING FULL SPEED through the rooms and hear them giggling together. Then I have to remember, all of this might not happen. Just wait.

Wait? Are you kidding me? I can wait -- because I'm forced to -- and I can choose to have a good attitude about it, but what in the world does patient waiting look like?

I've got no clue.

I don't want to get my hopes up too high, but a tiny bit of dreaming is fun, you know? So dream a little dream with me.

From my last two posts, you can tell that I am in desperate need of inspiration, and that is why I have borrowed an idea from my friend Tiffany. It goes like this.

I AM - waiting. For summer, for a house, for the flu to leave our family, for Jeremy to get home from work. And now I have that song While I'm Waiting in my head.

I HAVE - tons of pictures on my camera that I keep struggling to get onto the computer. This should not be so hard, really!

I WISH - I could go running right this second. In the sunshine. Where is it?

I WANT - to eat tacos for supper tonight, and we have all the ingredients! Guess what we're having!

I FEAR - that the sun will never shine again. Or that when it does, it will last only a day before the next snowfall. I believe this is a reasonable fear.

I HEAR - a fabric duck quacking and Mr. Mumford turning the entire world into quacking people.

I WONDER - when Liberty and I will be able to breathe through our noses again?

I REGRET - not buying chocolate chips the last time I was at the grocery store.

I LOVE - running barefoot through soft green grass while the SUN SHINES on my face and the WARM wind tosses my hair behind me.

I ALWAYS - Um, after much thought, I realize that I ALWAYS lack consistency. It has something to do with not enjoying boredom.

I USUALLY - read books, but the plots all seem the same to me right now. Can anyone recommend something wonderful to read?

I AM NOT - well. Really, you can ask Jeremy.

I SING - Happy Birthday off key quite horribly. You should come hear me sometime.

I RARELY - pick my nose. Oh, that should go in the I NEVER category. Ooops.

I NEVER - (and what do you know, there actually is a NEVER category.) I never knew blogging could be so complicated.

I CRY - What? That's a complete sentence all by itself. I suppose they want me to tell you what I cry about or how often I cry. Let's see, well, I teared up last night as I was writing our 2009 recap because I checked my blog to see what we did last year, and I found this post.

I AM NOT ALWAYS - this random or this disgusted with the sun.

I NEED - SUNSHINE!!! Do you hear me? SUNSHINE!!!

I just finished typing up the 2009 recap of our lives that I planned to mail out in December as a Christmas letter. Go me. Now if I ever actually mail it, that will be an accomplishment.

I'm doped up on Thera Flu right now, and my neck muscles are giving up on me. Poor Liberty is fighting a fever as we speak and coughing a sad, pathetic-sounding cough of misery. Of course this malady did not stop her from pouring water all over my living room floor today, although it is currently preventing her from sleeping.

Thera Flu is my friend.

I probably should refrain from typing after medicating, but there's something in me that gains comfort from blogging. But not as much comfort as my pillow would give me. Good night!

So. I've been sick. Correction: I am sick. The flu or some other sort of hideous little germ has invaded my territory, and I've been doing many nasty things trying to remove it. And now, here I am typing my little heart away while on medication.

This might be an interesting post.

Or it might not, seeing as how I really have nothing to say. Usually when I have nothing to say, I avoid typing about it, but tonight, I am bored and tired and slightly off in the head, AND I CAN'T SPELL. Not being able to spell is frustrating. Every three keystrokes I have to backspace and start over.

What can I tell you about?

I could tell you about Liberty's newest bedtime routine which involves thinking up every excuse known to mankind and calling it through the bedroom door in an attempt to avoid sleeping. Tonight's excuses came like this:

"Mommy, I had a bad dream about bears and monsters. Please pray about it."

"Mommy, I'm thirsty. I need a drink please."

"Mommy, I spilled water on the floor. I need a towel please."

"Mommy, I need to go potty."

"Mommy, Mercy's hitting her sister."

For the record, Mercy's crib is across the room, and she cannot get out of it. In order for her to be hitting her sister, her sister would have to be out of her own bed and standing within a baby-arm's reach of the crib.

"Mommy, I can't find my toy doggy."

"Mommy, I miss you. I need a hug please. A really big hug."

"Mommy, can we go to church today?"

"Mommy, we're going to have a party at the library!"

Or I could tell you about... Um, about... Well, I can't think of anything riveting.

EXCEPT THAT SURVIVOR'S ON TOMORROW!!! And I will get to see it on Friday! OOOooh I can't wait!

Okay, that's enough backspacing for tonight. Sleep tight, and don't breathe in any germs.

This is a little personal...well, maybe a lot personal, and I'm not sure about sharing it. But, I thought it might be helpful to someone. An excerpt from my prayer journal:

God, I have been wallowing in something close to depression, and I don't know why. The winter blues? A lack of sleep? Impatience about a home? Poor diet? Whatever is causing it, will You please show me how to avoid it?

Also, the Truth is: my emotions do not have to follow my circumstances. My emotions should follow You, my stable, unchanging God. So how can they do that? First, I need to know where You are and Who You are. That can be found in Your Word. Next, I need to see reality instead of my perceptions.

Reality - What my life is really like:
1. I am a friend of God, rescued from Hell and on my way to Heaven!
2. I am married to an amazingly understanding and godly man who loves me exclusively and thinks I'm pretty and wonderful.
3. I am the mom of two fun, special, loving, little girls who also think very highly of me (at least for now).
4. I am comfortable, healthy, taken care of, and I need to be thankful.

I think I have forgotten my purpose, and that is causing my discouragement. So what is my one main purpose? POINT TO GOD.

How can I fulfill that purpose on a daily basis?
1. Have a plan for the day and carry it out.
2. Teach my girls about life.
3. Eat right, not whatever I happen to be craving at the time.
4. Exercise daily, not whenever I feel like it.
5. Memorize Scripture so that my mind dwells on Truth instead of feelings.
6. Pray purposefully for a deeper relationship with God, and for others' needs.
6. Take note of what gets accomplished. (So that at the end of the day, even if the living room is completely trashed, I can say to myself, this room has been totally cleaned three times today. I don't need to feel like a failure because of its current state.)

So.

Today is day one of me being in charge of my emotions instead of my emotions being in charge of me. It has been purposeful and refreshing. Thanks to God!

I went to bed very early last night to catch up on sleep. I woke up before the girls and spent some time with God. I made a list of specific items I wanted to get done today. At breakfast time, although I was not hungry, I forced myself to eat a banana. At snack time, although I wanted something else, I chose to eat 20 blueberries. At lunch time, although, again I wanted something else, I chose to eat leftover tilapia, peas and potatoes. I worked on memorizing the next section of Ephesians chapter four, and Liberty heard me quoting it to myself and announced, "Mommy, I'm going to say Romans 3:23!" She proceeded to say it word perfectly, then we worked on Romans 6:23 together until she told me firmly, "Mommy, I think that's enough for today." And that was that. I followed along with my palates video and even survived a kamikaze Mercy Jane attack when she jumped off of the rocking chair and onto my tummy, giggling maniacally the entire time.

There has been no sunshine today. AGAIN. And I will not be able to accomplish all of the items on my to do list today, but I have chosen to be thankful for my blessings and let God control my emotions. Hooray!

I will apologize immediately for keeping you waiting on the rest of the story. The cliff-hanger was caused by two main reasons. Well, one main reason and one secondary reason. First, I waited on our realtor for some more information before blogging. (Although I listed it first, that was actually the secondary reason.) The main reason is Jeremy and I have stayed up until around two am most mornings, watching the first and second seasons of The Mole. This activity drained my brain of any creative writing skills it may contain, and any spare brain cells unoccupied by day-to-day living spent their time pondering the question, WHO IS THE MOLE?

And now I must follow a tangent in my brain in order to tell you...well, I cannot tell you what I intended to, because I typed it all out and realized that if anyone wanted to watch season one on Hulu, I would be ruining the ending for you by telling you what I wanted to say.

Now the second season is a different story. I can say what I want without ruining anything, and I HAVE to say this because I have to get my brag on. I totally called that one! From the very second episode, I called it! Go me! And I did it without any of the producers so-called clues. Clues? Yeah, right. Those were not clues. Jeremy and I were so frustrated during the show because we couldn't pick up on any of the clues, but when they revealed the clues at the end of the season, we did not feel badly at all. Those were not clues!


And now back to our regularly scheduled post.


Monday came and went with no further knowledge about where to send our offer. Tuesday came and went. Wednesday came, and my phone rang. Our realtor's name showed on the screen, and I picked it up, "Hi!"

"You guys have been praying hard, haven't you?" she answered with an odd sound in her voice.

I smiled then joked back, "I like the sound of that opening line; tell me more!"

"You're not going to believe this," I could hear the reciprocating smile in her voice, "or maybe you will! I just got an email from the foreclosure office about that house. It goes like this:

You have been selected as the Agent for the Short Sale property at [the yellow house]. Please check your Workflow for any tasks assigned to you for this property. Thank you.

I hesitated, wanting to share in her joy, but not knowing exactly what that message meant.

Our realtor explained with excitement, "This email came to our office out of the blue, and I was copied on it because of my position within our agency. The foreclosure office had no idea that we were searching for that house. They had no idea that we had an offer on that house. In fact, after I did a little digging, I found out that if standard procedures had been followed explicitly, our office would not have been given this listing." When my "wow" sounded weak to her, she further explained. "This means that we know where to send the offer. It means that we have direct contact with the decision makers, and that we can dialogue freely with them."

"YES!!!" This time my answer came strongly!

"But Missy, you still don't understand," she continued earnestly, "In all the time I've been working here, I have never seen this happen, and in fact, if everything had gone the way it was planned to by the company, it would not have happened. This is definitely something that God did!"

We continued talking, marveling at the odd twists this house had gone through to get to where it was right now, and finally I asked a favor, "Would you mind sending me that email? If God does give us this house, I want to be sure that we remember what He did."

She sent the email with this note attached:

Please find attached the message I rec'd from [the bank]. This is the first time in my 5 years in real estate that we have rec'd a message like this! We've gone months with no communication from the bank and this just came in out of the blue. They were not even listed as the #1 bank in line for this mortgage. Pretty much unheard of......please keep praying!!!

I'll be praying as well!

Jeremy and I have submitted our offer, and now we wait for all of the lien holders and mortgage holders (there are several) to decide whether they will accept their losses and not ask for any money from the sale of this home or if they will reject the offer as too low because they will not be regaining any of the money that is due them.

Don't hold your breaths, everybody. This could take a long time...

But you can pray!

Also, I want to say, just because God has done this miraculous thing, it does not automatically mean that He plans to give us this house. I do not pretend to know what His plans are, but I do know one thing for sure: whatever they are, they are the best, and we will praise.

I do not need to tell you, do I, that the two of us prayed all through last week; actually, the four of us prayed because the girls have recently started asking God to give us a home and for wisdom about our home, too. Jeremy spent the week dreaming, describing and slowly dipping his toes back into the pool of reality, and I spent the week treading water in that realistic pool. Intrigued, yes. Wanting this to be Our House, yes. Hoping, no.

Last Saturday, Jeremy and I sat in the van and prayed again for wisdom while we waited for our realtor to unlocked the front doors of the yellow house. Then we walked through them. The pictures online had given me not even an inkling of what to expect. In fact, the pictures online had perpetuated my water-treading in the pool of There Is No Home For Us, but walking through those doors into the entryway and living room changed my perspective. Hope peeked through a tiny crack in the dry dirt floor of my dreams. I turned left and walked through the large archway into the nasty peach kitchen. Hope slipped her head above the crack so that she could get a good look at the kitchen and take note of what paint color might make those cabinets pop beautifully into view. I followed Jeremy through a second arched door into the dining room filled with windows, and hope's entire body jumped through the crack in order to stand firmly in the sunlight with me.

Jeremy and I looked at each other and smiled. We knew. Even if we had to compromise on most of the rest of the house, we knew. This was Home.

Jeremy, Hope and I joined hands and followed our realtor through the rest of the main floor. The laundry room had a mudroom large enough to accommodate a bench and coat/book-bag/shoe-collecting area. This is something that I have been wanting since I began dreaming of a house. The bedrooms told us exactly what role they would like to play in our family as we entered them. The one on the left side of the house would be an office and guest room. The front one on the right would be the girls' room. The back one on the right would be a playroom.

Upstairs, french doors led into the master suite. I actually don't remember much of the master suite except that the room was very large and contained several windows. The bathroom had enough room for a garden tub, but it was missing. The one thing I do remember was the large walk-in shower with double shower heads - another item on our dream list.

Because the home is in the process of foreclosure, it has been gutted by someone in order retrieve some of the value put into it. Many light fixtures are missing, and at least one bathroom sink that I can remember is gone. The flooring throughout most of the home will need to be replaced as we can afford it, but out of our entire dream list, the only two items not already in the home are a fireplace and a garden tub. Definitely things that we can compromise on or add in later.

The two of us did not say much while in the house other than asking questions of our realtor, but we made a lot of eye-contact. Each knew what the other was thinking. Six other homes on our list to-be-viewed that day forced us to keep our appointments, and Jeremy and I did not even discuss The House while driving to our other destinations. Another beautiful home on the list that day checked off most if not all of our dream list items, and Jeremy and I sat down at a local restaurant around two pm to eat lunch and talk.

In order to be fair to all houses involved, we set aside our feelings for the yellow house and created a pro/con list. Our choices were narrowed down to the house we wanted to build which incorporated almost all of our dream items and would eventually need a finished basement, the beautiful house on the cul-de-sac which incorporated a little more of our dream items and came completely ready with no later upgrades or work to be done, and The Yellow House which would require the most work (mainly decorative) to make it ours. Surprisingly enough, even with differing pros and cons for each house, the three were just about equal on our lists. We stopped to pray for the twelve-hundred-and-forty-second time that day, and when we raised our bowed heads and looked up at each other from across the table, we both knew. Together, we pushed the lists aside and said, "We only have passion about the yellow one."

We stared at each other, brains whirling. Slowly, peace and determination took over the thoughts. "Let's do it," I said firmly. "Let's go for it."

Jeremy continued searching my eyes, wanting to be sure I understood the risks involved in putting an offer down on the house. I understood his gaze and nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Because the house is only in the beginning of foreclosure, so many red-tape requirements come first. Additionally, the file for the house has been lost in the United States financial system somewhere, and no one has been able to locate it. If we were to put an offer on the house, that offer would float out in la-la land until someone somewhere saw it and put it together with the missing house file. Once it hit that house file, several mortgage companies would have to agree, come to terms with each other and respond. Our realtor told us the process could take more than a year before we even heard back that our offer had been received, not even accepted or rejected.

In June, Jeremy's relocation benefits will expire. Building a house takes three to four months, so if we start in February, we can be in the newly built house by June and still take advantage of our relocation package. But if we spend time waiting to hear back on the yellow house, and then find out our offer is rejected or that someone else has made a better offer (and someone else HAS made an offer, we just don't know any details about it), our window of building time will go past our relocation benefits expiration date.

We knew all of this, and yet God gave peace. Not only peace but readiness to take action and steadiness to wait it out. "Make the phone call," Jeremy said in his deep take-charge voice that I love.

I picked up the phone and called our realtor. "We want to make an offer on the yellow house."

"Okay!" she knew already, too. "I'll do some research and get back to you on Monday."

To Be Continued...

Since moving to Indiana, Jeremy and I have spent most of our Saturdays either touring the insides of houses to buy, or driving around aimlessly, searching for land to build a house on. When our original six month lease on our apartment expired we did a LOT of praying. What in the world are we supposed to do, God? We looked for nice houses to rent, but none met our standards. Eventually, we signed another six month lease, not because we wanted to, but because we had no idea what else to do and time to make a decision had run out.

With the immediate rental decision made, we went back to focusing on permanent arrangements for our family. Buy or build? Build or buy? We finally settled on a small plot of land and a floorplan that we both are happy with, but still we hesitated to make the final decision to build. Something held us back. Something that neither of us could define. Just a lack of...something. (I actually tried to put a definite word into that sentence, but nothing I came up with was correct.)

Two Saturdays ago, on our way home from The Place With All The Meat, we took a wrong turn and ended up driving along a country road with beautiful homes dotted here and there. It wasn't unusual for the bright yellow FOR SALE sign by the side of the road to catch my attention, because whenever we drive our eyes remain trained to the front edge of yards searching for those signs that could indicate Home! Your Home Is Here. But what was unusual was my lack of interest. I didn't even point the sign out to Jeremy. The almost-decision to build combined with the lack of believing that Our House could really be out there had caused me to remain silent. We've looked at too many houses that did not like us or that we did not like. Houses and I speak the same language. We bond. Even the most deplorable of homes could sing and dance if given the appropriate love and attention, and I've been disheartened by all the housely rejection we have been going through. I stayed silent.

Jeremy spoke up. "See that sign?"

I nodded and followed the nearby driveway with my eyes, trying to glimpse the advertised house. The gravel extended more than a few hundred feet and divided the yards of two different homes. The brown house sat confidently in full view of the road, but only a corner of the yellow house showed itself from behind the trees.

"I wonder which house is for sale," Jeremy mused, "Wanna drive back and see?"

"Eh," I shrugged, intrigued more by the potential for adventure than by any hopefulness of finding Our House.

Jeremy checked his rear view mirror, then put Wynni in reverse and approached the driveway. All the way up the long drive we scanned the houses for clues that might show us which was on the market. We parked in the driveway of the brown house since it was first in line, and from the safety of our van we examined the yard, windows, front porch. Nothing told us that the home might be for sale, and I recommended that we leave before the owners came out to kick us off their property. As we turned around, Jeremy asked, "You want to check out the other house?"

"No, let's just go," I answered. The brown house had not inspired a feeling of home to me; I didn't expect anything more from the still hidden yellow house. We slowly headed back down the gravel drive, still wondering which home might be for sale.

Jeremy and I noticed the neighbor walking rapidly towards us at the same time. "Let's ask him," I suggested. Jeremy eyed the posture of the young man's advance and hesitated. "He doesn't look so happy to see us. Maybe we shouldn't stop to talk." He hesitated, his curiosity got the better of him, and he said, "Well, only if you do the asking. You're cuter." He winked at me.

Jeremy rolled his driver's side window down, and I leaned toward it and said in my nicest, politest voice, "Do you know which of these two homes is for sale?" at the same time that Mr. Neighbor puffed out his chest and said in a deep voice, "I'm a Marine. How can I help you?"

A tiny pause lingered while our words crossed each other in the air. Then the young Marine smiled and his chest became friendly-looking. "The yellow house is for sale. It's empty. You can go look in the windows if you'd like. I'm sorry for my big tough turkey act. The house you were just looking at is my dad's house, and he's been in the hospital for the past three weeks due to lung cancer. He had his lung removed this morning, so I've just come from the hospital. It startled me to see someone staring at his house." He smiled again.

Jeremy and I asked a few intelligent questions about the history of the yellow house and about the neighborhood. Our Marine eagerly gave us a lot of helpful information, and told us the Story of the House, and believe me, it is a Story. Just the way I like it with love and tragedy, heroes and villains and a bitter-sweet ending. Without even seeing the house, my heart began leaning towards it.

After a long conversation, our Marine returned to his own home near to his father's, and Jeremy and I turned Wynni around, pointing her towards the corner of the yellow house. We proceeded along the gravel way, passed the corner of the house and entered the circle driveway in front. Triple archways on the front porch drew our eyes upward and highlighted the dome-shaped window above the double front doors. A chandelier inside the house sparkled in the light. Jeremy gasped. "This is our house. Look, Missy! Look! It's our house!"

I understood his enthusiasm because in all of our dreaming, he had described this entryway right down to the visible chandelier many times in the past. I understood his enthusiasm, but I didn't share it, not completely anyway. His grand entryway is not necessarily my ideal. But, I noticed, with a few tweaks here and there... Yes, the entryway was acceptable, even desirable, or could be easily. After the tweaks, I could readily see the two of us sitting on the front porch, watching our girls playing in the yard. And speaking of the yard, I shifted my gaze to the surrounding land. Mature trees of various kinds pushed their way skyward here and there around the yard. A double-line of possibly fifteen-to-twenty-year-old trees marched along the northern edge of the property, the same trees that had blocked our view from the road. While Jeremy was tall enough to peek into all the windows, I was not, so I contented myself with walking around the perimeter and admiring the view in all directions. The yard felt like home. What a wonderful feeling!

Since our two girls had stayed buckled in the van, I returned quickly from my sojourn around the house. Jeremy took longer, peering into every window on the main level and into the basement. He came back energized. "Missy!" he practically shouted, "This is It. This is Our House!" His boyish, happy grin that I have missed for almost a year exploded from his face. "This is it!"

All the way home, and late into the night, he described what he had seen from the windows. He tried to get me to comprehend the layout, the wall colors, the kitchen cabinets. I loved his happiness; I loved his excitement; I loved the switch in our roles. Normally, I am the happy, dreaming, excited one, and he is the cautious, wisdom-filled, (dare I say it) GRUMPY one. (He would call it realistic.)

For some reason, I could not get my heart to hope. Yes, the yard caused me yearning, but I kept a purposeful clamp on it. The inside of the house would probably not tell me it was my home. We made an appointment to see it the following weekend.

(To Be Continued...)