If a Picture is Worth a Thousand Words...

So if a picture is worth a thousand words....

But of course knowing me, I can't leave off the thousand words... ;)

Notice the little booties hanging on the clothes line on the right.

Yes. It's oh so true. We will soon be a family of 6.

It's a bit of a surprise. Yet we had been talking about "maybe a 4th" for several months now. In my heart I silently prayed God would just let it happen if it was meant to be. We know a little too much about how it all works and there's just no way to not plan or un-plan. If that makes any sense.

Either way. This little one came from pure oversight :)

But Divine appointment, we have no doubt.

What's so funny is everyone was teasing us when we went away for the weekend. I remember Mom saying as we were about to drive away, "we expect a 4th grandbaby!" I rolled my eyes and laughed. But for real. It was an escape baby.

I rather hold that in a sweet spot in my heart. That weekend in Nashville with my man was pure bliss. Being by ourselves, staying up late, champagne and chocolate, exploring the town, music, shows, amazing food, good talks, great memories... I'm glad we got a little "souvenir" ;)

I would be lying if I didn't say I was scared. Pregnancy is not fun for me. The worst of it being the first 16 weeks or so. GAG. I'm in the thick of it. The sickness is yucky. I hate how it feels and miss feeling normal for my kids and my husband. The pregnancy, birth, hormones, and first year of a newborn are always such a challenge. Full of amazing moments but also full of equally exhausting and trying times. Hence our hesitation to start the process all over again. But here we are! And we are thankful for life.

I was in the doctor's office the other day for a check-up for McKayla and I got to talking with the girl that worked there and somehow the topic came up and I said, "well we are actually expecting our 4th!" She smiled and said "oh wow!" Just then I looked behind me and saw 3 children that were acting like complete monkeys. Asher was making loud and manly grunts and noises, demanding food (did I mention loud??), and the girls were doing some sort of gymnastics moves on the exam table, and for a split second I saw it through her eyes.... wow. We are definitely crazy. I could tell she thought so.

The next day I ran into Walgreens to pick up a few things and the young guy at the checkout said "Wow. How did you get left with all these kids!?" I was really taken back. Not even sure how to answer that!?! But wasn't about to say "oh and guess what, we've got another one comin'!"

That night as I drove away, heading downtown to a half-way house I volunteer at, a lot of fears began to creep in. What if I can't handle 4? What if we should have just focused on the ones we do have? Are we nuts for starting this process all over again? Am I cut out for this???

Just then, this song came on the radio.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yW-JZrrEbt4

The words melted my heart! I cried to the Lord. He is my hope! He is my doubt-destroyer. He is my song. He is my peace!

Truth be told, as I fix my gaze on Jesus, I have amazing peace and excitement. My fears are only extensions of my attempt to be my own strength, to be my own faith, to carry my own burdens. But Jesus is that for me.

This will be a season of opportunity. For me to grow even more out of my "good girl" skin and let Jesus be my righteousness. To embrace grace and the freedom it brings to rest in Jesus. To choose peace over perfection. To let go of control and cling tightly to the Master of my heart.

Early this morning my little nephew, Rowan was born. Reliving the excitement and anticipation of his birth and then finally seeing the picture of his precious little face reminded me that its all worth it. It's always worth it! Life is an amazing gift. It has already helped me to catch a glimpse of the joy that is to come. I cannot wait to hold this little one and to soak up that preciousness.

So here we are! I'm more than 8 weeks. Appointment with the midwife/ultrasound is later this week. Praying for health and protection. Thankful for my amazing man on this life journey with me. Thankful for my amazing children that are really stepping it up and being huge helpers! And thankful for Jesus, the life-giver.

My hope is in you, Aaron Shust

I meet with You and my soul sings out
As Your word throws doubt far away
I sing to You and my heart cries holy
Hallelujah, Father You're near

My hope is in you lord, all the day long
I won't be shaken by drought or storm
A peace that passes, understanding is my song and I sing
My hope is in You alone

I wait for You and my soul finds rest
In my selfishness You show me grace
I worship You and my heart cries glory
Hallelujah, Father You're here

My hope is in you lord, all the day long
I won't be shaken by drought or storm
A peace that passes, understanding is my song and I sing
My hope is in You alone

I Will with on You, You Are My refuge
I Will with on You, You Are My refuge

My hope is in you lord, all the day long
I won't be shaken by drought or storm
my hope is in you lord, all the day long
I won't be shaken by drought or storm
A peace that passes, understanding is my song and I sing

My hope is in You alone

Being Refined... and Defined

I'm still on this amazing journey of undoing. Sometimes it is quiet. Other times the revelation of my true self, intentions, and masks are a shredding of my internal and a blinding light to my needy soul.

I am reading "Grace for the Good Girl" by Emily Freeman. Please. If you have ever been "good", go get this book. She really breaks it down...

"The shape and intensity of our performance comes down to two things: expectations and definitions. I have the expectation of myself to be a good girl, a good Christian, a good wife and a good mom. Not such bad things, until you understand my own personal, twisted definition of "good." Good means I never mess up. Good means I weigh the perfect amount. Good means I can handle everything, I don't look like a fool, and I never lose my patience. Good means my husband will never be disappointed in me, my kids will always obey, and everyone basically likes me. Good means I am enough. My goodness is all about me. Not only do I want to be a good girl, a good Christian, a good wife, and a good mom, I want to be those things in front of God and everyone. I want to be good and I want you to know it. I know in my head that my definition of good is wrong, crazy even. Still, left to my own resources, that is how I operate. If I fail to live up to my own standard of good, I label myself a failure. I lack motivation. I become indifferent, I entertain anxiety. I snap at my children. I want to be alone. I dream of Hawaiian vacations. I wallow.

But then something happens to offer a bit of encouragement, and I find the strength to redouble my efforts at goodness. I clean the house and successfully avoid the Rocky Road ice cream. Someone gives me a compliment. The weather is nice and I get a spurt of energy. I feel empowered, and so I try again. Then, I fail again. I don't like to fail and I certainly don't want you to know I've failed. And I'm embarrassed at the predictable pattern of defeat that my life has become.

So now I stand at the fork in the road: I can try to figure out a way to continue making life work on my own or I can admit defeat and accept Jesus' definition simply to Come."

Nail on the head.

This in so many ways is me! My cycle! I've been asking the raw and honest question lately of how much of my "strength of the Lord" is really my own bootstrapping? My own attempt at Pollyanna living? My unshakable good nature? My resilience  my strength, my Rosie the Riveter pride. I've squawked at others that need to change proclaiming "I don't get why they can't do what is right, It's just a CHOICE and you get with it and DO IT!!"

Element of truth there? Yes. We do make choices. But what I'm seeing is we don't define ourselves. Jesus has done that. He has declared us His, righteous, pure, brothers. Our choices are merely obedience or disobedience to what He tells us is best for us. But our identity? That's all Him.

I'm realizing a lot of my competence, ability, superwoman cape-ish-ness comes from growing up. I had a wonderful family and an incredible upbringing. Truly. Being the firstborn, I was very take-charge, get-er-done, leader of the pack, bossy...? Shocker, I know. I was praised by my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles on my abilities. At 9 I could get in the kitchen and whip up Chicken Divan like it was no sweat. Salad, homemade bread, dessert, and a fully set table with linen napkins and name cards. I loved it! Nothing wrong with my inner giftings. But I was praised for being so "capable." Mom's "right arm girl."

I liked the praise. YEP! Who wouldn't?! We all are praised on our abilities. It's human to give it and to like receiving it. And yet our inner greed and wanting to be affirmed and accepted latches onto these fuzzy feelings and we become an addict. We want more. We want to hear it. So we continue to do the things we know will affirm us and give us value in the eyes of others.

Yet I go back to my heart's question - is my strength truly Jesus working in me? Or is it my own?

In raw honesty I know a lot of it is my own. I'm pretty saddened and disgusted by it. My heart so wants to love Jesus and to live for Him, but doing it on my own is exhausting. It has drained me. And in the end I find myself almost bitter and cynical at Christianity because its all work and no reward. At least that's what I've made it to be.

Who can I blame but myself? I heard a lot of  "follow these 10 simple steps and you will achieve God's blessings!" And wha-wha.... epic fail. There is no formula. It's simply living for Jesus and loving Him regardless of the outcome. We live in a fallen world where so much is broken. We don't always get what we want. We don't always get the "blessings" we think we are entitled to. But did we sign up as one of His fishermen because of the cool boats we would be on, or the colossal fish we would catch, or the epic times we would have out at sea drinking Captain Morgan's brew and telling tales around the table? Or did we drop it all and follow the Savior because He's Him. He's Jesus. He loves us. His truth is all that is real.

This is where my rubber is meeting the road. I'm realizing the mask I am wearing.

We all wear masks. To hide, to protect ourselves. When you take it off you quickly see the eyes of fear. The protective guard is to prevent hurt, heartache, and pain. It reveals what you are most afraid of.

I sat and made a list. "What I fear."

It ain't pretty.

But I want the mask to crumble. Wearing a mask doesn't mean you are entirely a fake person. It doesn't mean you put on a plastic smile and everyone knows it. I feel like life is a Masquerade and we all have some sort of fancy flamboyant mask on. Again, it's our humanity to have fears and to want to avoid pain. We can be so incredibly real and yet we all hide behind something. Away from something.

Mine mostly involve the fear of not being enough. Disappointing God or others. The failure and mediocrity that comes if I don't try! Which ultimately means rejection. It causes me to believe if I'm not good enough and don't earn (key word) my love and value, I have none.

And yet.... is that not the opposite of the gospel? That He loved us - me! - while I was yet a sinner? That nothing can separate me from that amazing love? Not unorganized closets, or missing a volunteer night, or having a bad day, or missing my Jesus Calling for 11 days, or failing to do the fall pinterest craft with my children?!

The bottom line is my pride is so flagrant! I want to earn the cross. I want to earn the love that was lavished there. Before I believed. Before I knew. Before I accepted Him. I think I can earn that grace that is so rich and that love that is so, so free.

I repent.

My fears are truly just unbelief. I am asking God to replace them with truth and freedom.

I know He cares. A lot of my "mask" is my business and being constantly occupied. A sweet friend asked me once "what are you afraid of finding if you sit still?"

Freeman summed it up so well in this statement....

"Maybe you are hiding from remembering your past, from facing regret, from what may happen in your future. Maybe you don't want to be known because you fear people might find out you are stupid or wrong or that you don't know so much after all. Maybe you are hiding from your dreams because to face them would mean admitting they are there. And to admit that they are there would mean you aren't living them after all." (italics mine)

I fear some of the future. I don't like all of the past. I don't want to be wrong or stupid or dumb. But really, I do fear to dream. To hope for what may be. Because that's where I've been disappointed the most and the fact that so few of them have turned out just makes me want to mask the pain and move on so I won't feel the hurt that's really inside.

A great example of this is my desire for a home. It's a long story so I won't get into it all (I think I already wrote that out a few blog posts ago), but the bottom line is at every turn, that's something that has been ripped from me. Has God taught me lessons? You bet. Would I change my story? No. Do I wish I had my house by now? Yes. Do I recognize the truths I've learned about myself and the Lord are more valuable than any "wood, hay and stubble"? Absolutely. Yet as our lease is nearing it's end and I know that is upon us again, I shirk back in fear. I chose to not feel - not think. To assume the worst will happen in the secret places of my heart so I won't be disappointed  I don't want to ask God for anything because I don't want to be presumptive or have an entitlement attitude. Bottom line, I don't want to have an opportunity to be hurt. So I avoid it and hide behind "surrendering it all to God..." really my comp-out for being downright real before Him. It's actually more self centered than anything, because I'm trying to protect myself. It just sounds all spiritual by how I've chosen to think about it.

Reality: I chose today to just be raw before Him about it. To tell Him what I need. What I want. Layin' it out, dear God, please let me have a little Container Store luvvvv and let my daily life work for me with order, function, and beauty! I know a house will not be some "enchanted cottage" and all my days will be bliss, but to have a place we can make our own and make work for us would mean the world.

After that, Hebrews 4 was on my heart. I cried when I turned to it, it took on a whole new meaning....

"For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weakness, but One Who has been temped in all the things that we are, yet without sin, therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of Grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need."

He feels! He knows! He was here among us in our world and in our humanity. It was not a sin to feel humanness. In all this He says "Come." Draw near with boldness. Bring it to His throne with confidence that we may receive His mercy and grace in our need.

No more masking my need! I pray. No more hiding and protecting myself from pain. Regardless of the outcome, I want to know I was real with Him. The bottom line is I signed up for Jesus, not the 10 earthly blessings I think I deserve plus Jesus. I know He cares. He may or may not answer in the way I would choose. But I will not hide my honesty. I trust if the answer comes and I don't like it, I will find Jesus there even deeper of a well. I always have.

I challenge you: think of what you fear. And what you do to protect yourself. The things you do to try earn your value and worth. The things that make you feel suddenly worthless. In doing so I believe we will discover the areas we have shoved out Jesus and set up our own icon.

I just want to live abandoned. Knowing that I am fully loved and valued even if I am not capable, or if I disappoint, or if I don't show up with the best dessert. Because it is Jesus who holds our identity. Only Him. May we have eyes to see it and hearts to believe it!

It is Jesus who defines us.

The Undoing of the Do-Gooder

It was merely 2 weeks ago on a Sunday as we rode down the beautiful country roads of Tennessee on a crisp fall morning to church that my heart just blurted out "I am in such a peaceful place!"

And it was true. It seemed ever since the house deal fell through and we signed another lease in this small place and started home school full-fledged that God - in all His mercy! - rushed over me with His grace to cover my wounds, confront my fears, deal with my frustrations, and place a buffer between me and reality. It actually was quite glorious. I seemed to float through several months of life. Perhaps this is what "abiding" is all about! The rest that comes. The unexplained contentment. In fact, in all honesty, I felt more rich and crazy blessed than I ever had in my life! Moved to tears often at the good gifts in my life. And this was not some super-spiritual brownie point earning attempt I was on. Oh no. The real, supernatural deal! I knew, without a doubt, it was all His doing. Because my ridiculous, and I mean ridiculous type-A personality could never muster this up, not in my wildest dreams.

And then the boom was lowered....

It was as if Satan sat next to me in the car that day with his sly smile (I get the grinch visuals here. except he's red) and wispy gray tail with the red arrow fork in the end saying "alrightyyyyy then little miss glowing countenance of contentment! letsssssssssss see how you handle reality outsssssssside of that bubble!"

I am not kidding. It probably happened, and when I get to heaven I am most assuredly going to ask. Because the next day, HAVOC. Pure havoc on the home-front. Kids with attitudes, disobedience, laziness, blatant disregard for rules. An incessantly whiny and grumpy toddler. Marriage conflicts. Friend conflicts. No food in the refrigerator. The house exploded with clothes that I knew not we had. And toys and books and every possible build-a-bear hair bow (I swear I would like to have a few words with the CEO that decided it would be a good idea to hand those out by the handfuls for free every time we even walk in the store). School was a disaster as I tried to teach one kid who was whining and being sloppy and another kid that was begging for snacks every 5 seconds and another kid that was hanging on to me and grabbing at random pencils and scribbling on all the workbooks and pulling out and bending all the flash cards and charts.

And somehow today the kids didn't look so cute, the house actually did feel it's realistic cramped size, and my daily job didn't seem so glorious and all the "rocking the cradle, rocking the world"-ish.

"It's just a manic Monday!" I consoled myself and put everyone in their respective area and did a kick-butt jump-around-like-a-crazy-woman workout for almost an hour. Endorphins released. Perhaps sanity would be restored.

But the afternoon continued on in like manner.

And then I thought "well tomorrow is another day!"

And it was. Another day like this.

And the next.

And the next.

I must confessed I escaped a couple times in the weeks that followed to go roam Target by myself. Cheap therapy, girls, if ya need it, try it. Works like a charm. I also had a few nights of gut spilling to some fantastic girlfriends over a glorious margarita. I was just trying to keep it together. Or rather to pull it together. Or get it together. Or something that would help me get my ACT TOGETHER!

I was angry. Suddenly oh so very angry. At injustices of others. Hurts and wounds. Feeling unappreciated. Used. Worked to the bone. Tired.

All the while I kept trying. Something in me is a hardcore boot-strapper. I will pick myself up, dust myself off, and --oop!-- no more time to cry dear, you shed one whole tear now that's enough! Or better yet, no tears at all. Yep. That's my new thing. I'm too tough to cry. And I wasn't trying to not cry, I just somehow.... couldn't.

Tired.

Very tired.

And to make it worse I wasn't sleeping. How could I be so exhausted with all the demands on me and all the expectations and work load and be so crazy tired and yet not sleep!?! But it was happening.

One night in desperation I marched out here at 2:-something a.m. and dug around in the cabinet for the bottle of "natural calm" I bought a few months back. Sounds so nice, doesn't it!? I mean what every crunchy mamma dreams of. The kind of calm you envision that brings you a home decor magazine, a cup of warm pomegranate tea, massages your neck and shoulders, all the while everything you touch and even the air you breathe being organic.

Give me that dang bottle!

I looked on the back and ignored the whole "gradually ease into taking this, start with 1/2 tsp and work your way up to 2 tsp" and just heaped 4 tablespoons of the white powder into a cup, and let it do its whole fizz and explode thing. In that moment I felt as if a cop decided to bust in and do a random drug search I would most assuredly be locked away for 20, without parole. I downed it and sat on the couch.

Next thing I know I woke up on the couch at some odd hour when Dave came into the living room to do his paperwork. I somehow managed to shuffle myself back to the bed and don't remember anything until 8:30. wow. Yes I just said that. I know I've already lost all of you momma's because you have diverted from this page onto google and typed in "white powder drug natural calm sleep like a baby wait babies don't sleep that's why I need to sleep and please send me a free sample of under-eye concealer cream!" But that's ok. I'll forgive you. And I get it.

Thankfully my children were still alive. Poor Asher had woken up, I'm sure, as usual and must have actually tuckered himself back out and fallen back asleep in his crib. Wow.

I shuffled towards the coffee pot in my pjs with my hair in it's typical wad on top of my head. I somehow have convinced myself I look like a cute cheerleader minus the big white bow with my crazy bun/ponytail/explosion up there but I think that ended probably 9 years ago. Not really sure what's going on with me being 28 and wearing it but that's a whole 'nother issue.

As I took a sip of the warm nectar of life I thought to myself "some thing's gotta give. I'm a crazy woman. What happened to that resting/abiding in the vine/crazy peace!?!" What am I doing different now than I was then!?! Was I reading more Bible verses each day? Was I in a spiritual trance-like state that I accidentally snapped out of somehow!?"

And that's when I had the visual of Satan there in the car. Yep. Had to be him.

I prayed through it. I battled through it. I thought "today is going to be different!" But they were all seeming to be just like the rest. And I was getting depressed.

And still tired.

I tried to lighten my load. Yep that's the problem!

I've become intense about eating healthy and from-scratch and organic. So I marched myself to the store and bought 3 frozen pizzas. Yes I did. Well, they were still organic and I did have to get them on sale and combine with a double coupon, which all the effort pretty much cancelled out the "easy" part, but there. In my freezer, lies graced-based dinnering.

*proud*

Yet that wasn't enough. I had been working out like an insane woman. Double workouts most days. Everyday. So I'm going to chill out a bit. Learn to rest. Enjoy a day off. Fine. I'll cut out the Sunday workout.

*proud*

Homeschooling has been a lot this year with ABeka. I have been determined to be diligent and not miss a day or a lesson. Because we got started a few weeks later with all the we-thought-we-were-moving thing, I have felt pressure to stay on it so we aren't doing school into July. But after going crazy with all that, I finally decided I would skip over some of the unnecessary flashcards to ease the load!

*proud*

We have family pictures coming up this weekend. I have been obsessively stressing about coordinating everyone. I don't want it to be mitchy-matchy. But I want it to flow. I want that pinterest square that says "layer with neutrals and pick an accent color." I can't decide if the kids should all wear their Converse's? or should we do our cowboy boots? But would it look too much like last years, even though they weren't cowboy boots, they were still boots? And I don't want the girls to be in identical clothes. Because they are getting big and becoming individuals so I have to coordinate. But one seems to be missing a sweater of a grayish color that seems absolutely pivotal to the whole family scene so I check 2 thrift stores, 1 consignment store and by the time I'm at Target having sticker shock I can't remember if the shirt I'm pearing the sweater with will even work with the pants or not. And by then I don't even know if my "accent color" will work with the boys. And what will they wear?! And lastly -- the big clincher -- I don't know what I'm going to wear. Of course it has to be stylish, hip-momma, and flattering. I can't decide between a skirt and boots or colored skinny jeans and booties and wow. It's just all so much.

And this is when I realize I'm crazy. And not just crazy but like the cray-CRAY kind!!!! Why so obsessive? Anxious? Restless?

This morning I woke up at 5:45. Wide awake. I lay there trying to convince myself to get up and go run but I was sore. So stinkin' sore. And my stomach was in a knot. And I really felt the Lord ask me "why can't you be still?"

I don't know?! What am I hiding from or running from? Why am I afraid of the silence or the sanctuary?

I got up and David brought me a cup and said "wanna have some coffee with me on the couch?"

So we sat and talked about all of this. And how the honest crazy truth is that is is revealing me. Undoing me. Bumping my innards and it's spilling out all over the place. Something has to give.

I picked up a book that has been calling my name for a long time now. Finally picked it up. "Grace for the good girl" by Emily Freeman. She had me at the preface.

Listen to this:

"You're strong. You're responsible. You're good. But as day fades to dusk, you begin to feel the familiar fog of anxiety, the weight and pressure of holding it together and of longing left unmet. Good girls sometimes feel that the Christian life means doing the hard work with a sweet disposition. We tend to focus only on the things we can handle, our disciplined lives, and our unshakable good moods.

But what would happen if we let grace pour out boundless acceptance into our worn-out hearts and undo us? If we dared to talk about the ways we hide, our longing to be known, and the fear in the knowing?"

My attention was captured.

You know those times when you can feel God has the scalpel right about the surface of your heart and it's about to get graciously nasty?! I mean the best Surgeon, the perfect operation for the situation but you know... it's gonna get ugly. Guts and blood and gore. It's all coming out. You cringe and yet, you long for it, more than anything.

That's exactly where I find myself. In the midst of my anger, and hurts, and frustrations I know, it's not about all that or all them, it's about me. Jesus meeting me here as the Great Physician and rushing in to be what I, finally confess, cannot.

So in full disclosure here, I will admit: I'm a do-gooder. I try so dang hard. I want to be a good mother. The best! Never try to yell or motivate in anger. I try to be the best wife. Supportive, helpful, forgiving, gracious, available. I try to be a good friend: volunteer to meet a need, lend an ear, offer an encouraging word or a hug. I try to keep a clean and designed-on-a-dime home. I try to cook organic. I try to push my body harder than I did in that last workout. I try to be spiritually minded and read and pray and grow my walk. I try to keep my mind sharp and have dreams and visions and plans. And I desperately try to love Jesus, and for it to be real and vibrant and full of unwavering faith.

I try and try and try.

And my try-er is weary.

I love to bawk at legalistic pharisees  I love to proclaim that their rules fly in the face of grace. And they do. And yet.... the rule book and the chains I have so bound myself in are just as dark.

I'm the prodigal son that stayed home with the father. And when my younger brother returns, I find myself yelling out in bleeding anger, "what's this big party for, I'm the one that has been here all along doing the right thing!!!!!"

I love Jesus and I believe in all faith that He is my only way to heaven. And yet down here, somehow, well, there's just so much I can do.

And yet I hide behind the mask of fear. Fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of imperfection, fear of hurt, feel of loneliness, fear of disappointment, fear of not being good enough.

So by now I'm a hot crying mess at the keyboard. This is my undoing. It's ugly. Everything inside of me wants to throw in a disclaimer like "oh but I'm really ok, this is a little pit stop in the path of growth and we are back on track!" but no. There my do-gooder goes again.

This time I'm not going to Pollyanna my way back to happy pastures.

I want to defend myself. I want to deceive myself and deceive you. I want to pretend it's not bad. But sin is bad. Self-worship is at the root of it. Yuck. Did I just really say that!?

Yuck.

Honestly, I want to learn what it means to let go. I want to learn what it means to be in His yoke. You know the one He said was easy and light? I seem to know nothing of that. Nothing of true rest in His finished work. Somehow I find I am just so dang helpful and if I'm not sucking up all the hot air in the room like all the other whiners in this world, well I'm one less He has to worry about. "Oh Suzanne!? She's got it! She's doing great!! Now I can go on and focus on his reprobate sinner next door...."

But the truth be told, all my do-gooder, homeschooling, crunchy momma, bible study going, husband supporting deeds are just filthy rags. If I'm claiming that as my standard of righteousness, that's all it is.

What would happen in a day not lived in my intense zone!? Where the laundry didn't get folded, the school didn't get done, the baby ran around in just a diaper, I sat on the couch and ate oreos and watched biggest looser!?

I will not lie. The thought mortifies me.

But do I know I would still be dearly loved? Completely ransomed? A precious one in His sight? Do I know that?

My head does.

Oh Jesus, help my heart to know.

I'm embarking on this journey of grace. To know what it means to fall into Jesus. To know what it means to not have it all together. And yet have it all in Him. I know I am not nearing the secret to the perfect life this side of heaven. There will always be trials and tribulations. But I want to let my do-gooder go to hell where it belongs. I want the redemption of Jesus to be my only righteousness. My only hope. Suzanne is no good at being goodness. I see it.

I want to share on here this journey, very freely and candidly as I walk through it. My hope is that there are others of you type-A freakish sinners out there that want a Savior just as much as I do. Or maybe your "good girl" mask comes in a different form. Whatever your story, know you're not alone. I am fully hopeful that He is in the business of saving. Daily. Saving me from myself. I trust there is rest for our souls, only in Him.

As I ran today a song came on where the singer quoted 1 John 1:5: "God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all." He is our light to lead us to Truth. He dispels the darkness of our lies and fears. He brings light. My prayer.

On that note, I think I might just go pop in my grace-based pizzas for dinner.... ;)



P.s. Please listen to this song, as it perfectly describes this journey... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPlbNCzE5G0

Renewal

I am still on a high from it. YES. 2 1/2 glorious days on white sandy beaches and warm golden sunshine. The ones I love like crazy all loving it with me. BLISS.

We do not have a good track record for beach trips. The furthest back I remember was one when McKayla was 8 weeks old. A hurricane blew through and we got a call from our neighbor saying our house had been broken into and robbed. We came home early.

The next beach trip was in a condo my mom got for a good deal from a friend. It was 2 bedrooms and there were 5 adults and 3 kids staying there. David had a crazy big job he had to do, so I loaded up the kids and drove down there myself. Asher was 6 weeks old. Had a crazy bad case of bronchitis and was on steroid breathing treatments. I was up with him every 2 hours at night. I was sleep deprived. Postpartum. Hormonal. It was crazy. By the end of the week I found myself arguing with my mom over which family drank the most milk and who should pay for the next one. LOONY. What was even more loony was David finally getting there for the weekend and as soon as he did his phone started blowing up with harassing calls from the bi-polar home owner he just finished the big job for, threatening to sue for completely irrational reasons. We packed up, and headed home immediately. Law suit #2 of our lives ensued.

~breathe~

So beach trips scare me a bit.

I must confess I am 200% a beach girl. It energizes me. Calms me. Relaxes me like nothing else. I am crazy about it and can't get enough of it. I always have this illusive hope it will give me rest and renewal. Obviously that hasn't always been the case.

But thank Jesus!!!! This was the trip of a lifetime! No tiny little babies. Complete and total perfection in the weather. Everyone healthy. No crazy work calls. It was a dream!

We decided to get up and leave bright and early Friday morning at 3:30am. That way we could get some road time under our belt before the kiddos got restless. They did great, and slept till about 7:00. We pulled into chickfila for some yummy breakfast and kept truckin'!

The kids colored and played for a bit, then sleepiness hit and Asher took a little doze. I was SHOCKED with how well he did!

We got there around noon and checked in. We unloaded, ate lunch, got on our beach duds and headed out pronto!

We played hard. No major meltdowns or disasters. Still really quite shocking. Asher's first time at the beach that he was big enough to know what was going on. He was a bit timid at first but quickly warmed up to it and kept saying "beach!" and "wah-wah!" (water) He loved it. Always wanted to be in the water with Daddy :)

We dug in the sand and buried each other, which was quite the revelation to me: I discovered a way to lay out and close my eyes under the sun while still keeping an "eye" on my children: are you ready for this!?!?! Have them "bury" you. It takes a good 20 minutes and they are right there talking, shoveling sand on you and patting it down. It even almost felt like a sugar scrub sensation if I thought about it hard enough. Well whatdoya know!?!? A spa treatment to boot!! :) So no joke, it was sensational!

We wore everyone out. Came in, got cleaned up, and I popped the lasagna I made and brought into the oven. Yummy dinner for our hungry bellies. Then we headed out to go get ice cream! I think we wore everyone out though - 2 were asleep by the time we got there - HA!

After that we hit Alvin's Island. How fun is it to look at all the crazy cheap little souvenirs!?

We got back to the hotel. Someone (name will remain anonymous to protect the guilty) stunk up the bathroom. I found Gabrielle doing all she could to ward off the scent ;)

My funny girl!

The next morning we got up and chilled. Ate breakfast. Watched cartoons.

Then we threw on our suits, braided hair, and hit the beach again. We were out there for a good 3-4 hours with everyone playing and having a glorious time!

 Dave bought a little boat raft and all the kids loved riding the waves in it. Even lil Asher! Who actually fell asleep in it one day. Isn't that the life!?

Chasing after birds...

Then we all came in and took some glorious naps!

I love how hard kids sleep after playing hard. :)

After that we hit the town to do some exploring!

The kids were concerned with Daddy. There were tears shed over the fear of the fake shark. I promise.

I always wanted to be the showcase lady on the Price is Right ;)

Get him now, while on sale for this low price!

Sweet girl <3

Then a sunset beach walk.... my favorite.

Haha, I love Asher's lips here....

They did this hand holding business on their own. No I did not tell them to so I could get blog-worthy pictures. It was truly precious.

Hahah, poor Dave. Asher has a death grip.

I got a sweet message in the sand. Melt my heart.

Inside for a late dinner and snuggle time watching Yogi Bear!

At the scary parts he'd throw Mr. Nite Night on his face ;)

Then he got a lil too comfy and fell asleep...

The next morning I got up early and went for a run. Nothing like the tropical breeze and beautiful beach homes to run by! Came home and got a shower then I found this little man reading books quietly in the pack n play. I love him.

Daddy got some much needed sleep in time. He never gets that and I was so glad for him! Meanwhile this little cabinet provided hours of entertainment ;)

Then... back to the beach! Last day!

Naptime in the shade with Daddy...

Chillin' like a villain!

We had enough sunshine for the day... just starting to feel that crispy feeling. So we decided to head out for more exploring.

Then dinner at Fuddpuckers complete with the live alligator show :)

Looking back on these pictures it looks like all we ate were crackers. I promise. We ordered real food :)

Then for a round of putt putt golf!

Then we came home, packed up, hit the sac and woke up at 3:30 again to drive home.

My heart is full. So so grateful.

God did a lot in my heart this trip. Lately I have honestly been battling the fact that I had children so young and never really had that free season of exploring the world, life, and my identity. I will not go into all the emotions of it all but lets just say in so many sweet and precious ways God used this trip in my heart to show me that in all honesty, I wouldn't have it any other way. To think I have missed out or skipped something is illusive. There's no way to know what would or could have been. But I do know this: no lie, I'm crazy about this man, my 3 precious little ones and the life God has placed me in. It's not always easy but I am rich beyond measure. And there's no other life I'd rather lead.