It Could Be Yours!

Just listed in my ebay store:



I'll be posting some more items later today, as well. Check it out!

Wedding Dancers.

I meant to post a link to these pics awhile ago, but I forgot. They are from the wedding we went to a while back- the one that was so much fun I never wanted it to end.

All these photos were taken by a photographer in Seattle named Sarah Rhoads. Check out her stuff, it's absolutely amazing.

Can you spot my handsome dancin' hubby and the little pink & black dress you all helped me pick out?

me, chris, pete, and crystal. CATCHING AIR.


Joel and Chris. Simply amazing.


Chris and I firmly believe that EVERY wedding needs choreographed dances to Michael Jackson tunes.


Congrats again, Dustin and Becca! Your wedding was a blast!

I LOVE the flu!

Hello, world!

We are doing much better now, thank you for your well wishes! Chris and Ezra were spared from the flu death, and just got cute little matching colds instead. (Hey... ANYTHING is cute compared to what knocked me over a few days ago. Even snot!) We are all recovering slowly, and I'm even thinking of leaving the house again sometime in late July! (I've been a bit cooped up... a bit stir-crazy... but also kind of enjoying the seclusion and non-stop PJ wearing at the same time. I'm such a hermit.)

The day I was sick, my husband let me sleep. ALL DAY. Also? He took care of Ezra, cleaned the house, did the laundry, put fresh sheets on the bed, researched homeopathic flu remedies, went to the store and came home only to whip me up a batch of the yummiest homemade chicken soup I've ever tasted, and then he took Ezra to the mall so he could run around and play before he came home and put him to bed. (Oh! And I think he also found time to put an end world hunger in there somewhere, too.)

I felt so taken care of and so loved- it almost made the flu enjoyable.

ALMOST.

Thanks, honey bean. You are crazy amazing. (Will you marry me?)

A Story of Epic Proportions.

Chapter One

Once upon a time, the stomach flu is killing me good and dead.

The End.

Wait... He's SHORT?

Ezra's birthday was great fun but not nearly as documented as I'd have liked it to be because (as it turns out) having 15+ children and their moms in my little house was a bit... um... chaotic? Gee... Who'da thunk it?

Here are the three photos I managed to snap of the most special event:

Cupcakes.


Chaos.


Cutie.

Ezra had a blast. (A very whiny "I-want-everything-right-now-don't-touch-my-
toys-gimmie-my-presents-don't-eat-my-cupcakes" kind of a blast.) It was so fun having all his friends over to celebrate, though, and the fact that there may or may not have been FIVE cupcakes leftover for me to scarf dispose of was really just an added bonus.

Our most favoritest neighbors and dear friends brought over a gift for Ezra before the party on Wednesday, and that gift has hardly left the boy's shoulders ever since:





IS THIS NOT THE COOLEST THING YOU'VE EVER SEEN? My neighbor and her mother designed it and made it, because they both knew that at the very moment a little boy turns three, knowledge of all things Super hero falls out of the sky and downloads into their brains by some miraculous, unknown force- causing them to run up and down hallways all day long screaming "I FLY! FWOOSH! I FLY! FWOOSH!"

Ezra loves the cape almost as much as I do.

My latest journal:



Created by buying a cheapy spiral bound notebook and taping some pages from my friend Jeremy's old clothing catalog onto the front with clear packaging tape. I have a feeling this journal is going to hold many good things between its covers. New things.

I took Ezra to a new doctor (LOVE HIM) on Tuesday, and he was able to explain to me more of what Ezra's chest wall deformity really is. (Have I ever talked about this here before? No? Well, his ribs have been silly shaped since birth.) It's some form of Pectus- where his lower right ribs are sunken in due to a cartilage abnormality. It isn't causing him any pain or shortness of breath at this point, so it is just one of those things they'll keep their eye on as he grows. Doc said it would probably get worse before it gets better, but it's not harmful. Just odd looking.

Also, Ezra only measured in the second percentile for height. 2%!! THAT'S REALLY SHORT. I was all, "Um, Doc? My husband and I be TALL glasses of water. How is this possible?" He asked me if I was always tall, or if I had a sudden growth-spurt later on in life. Then I remembered that I was always the shortest kid in my class (do you guys remember lining up for picture day by height?) until about 7th grade when suddenly my arms and legs got so long that I had to wrangle them in to fit through doorways. That's right about the time my gymnastics career took a nosedive, too. I should've been a ballerina. Or a swimmer. Or a coat rack.

Chris said he was never tall as a kid, either, but that he grew very gradually over a very long period of time. He was still growing in college. People ask him all the time if he played basketball in high school, and he always says "No, I wasn't really all that tall back then." and as the people gaze upwards into his face you can almost see the wild look of disbelief in their eyes.

So, we have a short kid. With silly ribs. And a wicked sense of humor. Wearing a star spangled cape.

Absolutely perfect in every way.

I Am Afraid.

I learned something about fear last night.

I learned that a lot of times it is telling you that you NEED something. But it's always lying.

I met with a group of ladies last night, and one of the questions we dove into was "What is your biggest fear?"

My biggest fear is never being seen... never fulfilling the plans that God has mapped out for me. I am terrified that I am never going to figure out what I'm 'meant to do' on this earth, and I'm going to die without ever being who I was called to be. Unheard. Unseen.

My fear is telling me that I NEED to do something big and grand and extravagant with my life, or I will amount to nothing at all.

But you know what I realized last night? Even if someone walked up to me and handed me an opportunity to do something grand and extravagant and big tomorrow, and I seized that opportunity, I would still wake up the next morning with this fear. Throwing myself in the spotlight isn't going to magically make the fear disappear. It will always want, will always need MORE.

And I realized that this is true for pretty much any fear. Fear of poverty? Throwing money at it won't make that mindset, that deep down belief that you'll never be provided for go away. I know of people who are wealthy, yet still they are terrified of poverty. Afraid of being alone? Getting married won't fix that. Marriage can be just as lonely (if not, in some ways, more so) as being alone can be. Afraid of sickness/death? You can be perfectly healthy and still spend half your life worrying about the 'what ifs'.

Fear is always rooted in something deeper, something much more difficult to pin point. It creeps in when we least expect it (oftentimes when we are young and defenseless) and puts a choke hold on us before we even realize we're afraid. And then it wears us down, slowly, until it controls everything in our lives.

I'm learning that the only way to really get rid of all this fear is to stop and LOOK at the things I am afraid of, and then ask God to be all of those things FOR me.

I am afraid of being unseen. God tells me HE sees me and delights in me- just as I am. I need to know that I am seen by Him before I'm going to feel seen by anyone else. Period. If I'm afraid of not having enough money, I need to know that He promises to provide for me... that He alone is my security. I need to know that even obscene amounts of money couldn't (wouldn't!) offer me those things.

So, that's where I am at. Trying to rip out all the roots that have grown in me and told me that I'll never be enough. I'm asking God to be my Enough.

I was reminded of something that God said to me back when I was in college and struggling so much with thoughts of death and feelings of abandonment. I felt completely unseen- unseen by Chris, unseen by God, unseen by the Church. And one night, I was sitting in my apartment across the street from the college I was attending, and I was journaling. I was telling God that He didn't even know me, that He obviously didn't care for me because He was nowhere to be found when I needed Him the most. And then, clear as day, I heard Him say:
"Emery... You are NOT just another face in the crowd to Me."

I remember I was completely stunned for a moment. I cautiously wrote what I had just heard in my journal.

And then? I started bawling my eyes out.

God knows our fears better than we do ourselves. And sometimes, if we'll just stop and listen, He will remind us gently that He's stronger than fear.

And He won't stop there, either. He'll grab hold of those fears that have gripped us and bound us, and He'll turn them for good... Taking the very things that we've pushed Him away with for so long and using them to draw us closer to Him than we've ever been before.

****************************************************



In other news, Thanks to Piper for this lovely gift! Just in time for Valentine's Day! I feel the love. Click the picture to get swept away to the loveliest blog of them all!

A Psalm Of Life.

A Psalm Of Life

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;--

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

This Post is an Emotional Rollercoaster.

Your comments on the post before last blew me away. You guys are wise, and I can't thank you enough for what you brought to my table that day. Encouragement, practical suggestions, tough love, opening my eyes to people who have changed the world without leaving their homes... all of these things really did help me on one of the lowest days I can remember. I am thinking some of these 'slumps' may be chemically and/or hormonally driven, so I am going to look into that. I feel weird even typing that just now. But it's the truth. And I owe it to myself to look into it.

I have NO reason to be unhappy- unhappy to the point of being nonfunctional- yet it seems that I am interminably pushing despair away from my surface. It is exhausting. And I think it's just been a part of who I am for so long that I don't even realize how incessantly I am having to do it. Who would I be if I weren't using all that energy just to stay functional? What if a lifeboat came along?

Who would I be??

Anywho... thank you all. Deeply.


***********************************************

In other news...

We sold our green sofa bed couch on Craigslist and bought a bed to take its place. (Sorry, Darrin! I know you were attached to the green monster.) We are officially adults because our guests no longer have to sleep on a vintage pull-out sofa mattress. Yay us! Now, come stay with us! We'll feed you good acceptable food and make you yummy tea!



I went to Ross to find some bedding and found some really nice sheets, a fabulous modern GRAY bed skirt, and this fantastic down alternative plaid comforter. (Chris told me he desired to have at least ONE room that wasn't covered in floral floraly-ness... that he wanted to keep the office/guest room MODERN and SIMPLE. This is the best I could do. I am drawn to busy patterns like a moth to a bug zapper.) Then a lamp and a picture frame jumped into my cart. It all ended up costing less than $80.

Long live Ross!

***********************************************

In other OTHER news...

My parents are fronting us a little money so that we can have a storm shelter installed in our garage. Recent events demand it for us. In a couple of weeks, a company will come out, cut a square into the cement of our garage floor, dig a big hole in the ground, and drop a steel bunker down into it. Then they will finish it all off with a sliding door that is flush with the ground.




I am SO wishing I could Photoshop these images with some funny captions, but my husband is using the laptop to watch LOST, so I CAN'T. (Just pretend they are saying really funny things, mmmm kay?)

In the past, we've asked all of our neighbors what their tornado plan was. They all kindof shrugged and said, "We don't really know... what's yours?"

eek.

For those of you who live in tornado-prone areas (I'm looking at YOU Nashvillians and Oklahomans that I love) these things aren't all that expensive. And you might never ever need them, but also? YOU MIGHT.

You all should look into it.

***********************************************

Some of Chris' family have been in town this week due to tragic circumstances... Chris' aunt's sister passed away here in Oklahoma, and then when Chris' aunt came down to attend the funeral, she passed away as well. She just didn't wake up one morning.

Needless to say, the family is in shock and grappling with two unexpected deaths within the same week. We had some of the family over for dinner last night, and it was such a sweet time. It is so sad that such horrible circumstances brought us all together finally, but I am so glad we got to see them and spend time with them. They are amazing people. We are praying that God would be closer than their very breath during this difficult time...

Three.

I didn't even know you three years ago.

That's weird to think about.

Three years ago, after the most intense night of my entire life, you suddenly showed up.

Screaming.

You only weighed 6 lbs. (I had prayed you would weigh six pounds.) You had heart-stopping eyelashes. (I had prayed you'd have them.) I was only in labor for five hours. (I had prayed you'd come quickly.)

We were off to a good start- you and me. You were all I'd hoped for and more.

But I didn't even know you.

You hung out by my hospital bed in something that looked like oversized tupperware on wheels. I would glance over at you from time to time and wonder what you were thinking about. Then I'd scold myself because, hello? Babies can't think! Then, I'd think: Wait... maybe they can? Crap! Am I already limiting my child? I'm so sorry! Think away, dear two hour old baby!

I had this feeling that you could tell I had no idea what I was doing, so I tried to play it cool in front of you. But you were on to me, weren't you?

Visitors came. Sometimes it felt like when you go to a party and see someone you sort of know and then someone else walks up and wants to be introduced to your "friend" and you suddenly realize you have no idea what your "friend's" name even is. It was a little awkward. "Hi! This is Ezra! He, um, sleeps! And sometimes eats! Um, I think he likes that light up there!"

That was all I knew about you at the time.

We brought you home. I started to figure out what you liked and didn't like- Slowly. Clumsily. Tearfully. (More on my part than yours.) You hardly made a sound. Your cry sounded like the volume was turned down on the TV. It was... soft.



I liked to go places and show you off. You were really small. And you never pooped. (Your record? TWELVE DAYS. The doctors kept telling me you were just very... "efficient.") I was learning to get used to the new human I was responsible for while trying to hang on to the tattered bits of my old life... My old self. They were tattered because, after you were born, I realized I'd never lived for anyone but ME. And suddenly that seemed kinda silly.

Anyways... you grew. And as you grew, I got to know you more and more. And with every new thing I learned about you, I fell more and more in love with you. You took your time with the talking thing, and that was hard because I was ready to move beyond the language of grunts and growls. I wanted to know what made you tick. I was beginning to think I'd birthed a perpetual CAVEMAN.



But now? You are three. That's one more than two and two more than one.

THREE.

In some ways, we are still getting to know one another, yes? That's why you push my buttons all the time. Because you're just checking to see what they all do. (Just so you know: that 'constant whine' button you've been pushing the last couple of weeks? That's mommy's EYE TWITCH button. May we move on?)

I know you better than anyone else in the world does by now. Better than I've known anyone ever before. (I wipe your bum, is all I'm saying.) And yet... you still manage to confound me. Surprise me. Lay new cards on the table at least once or twice a day. You are a little thunderstorm running up and down the hall... full of energy and passion and prone to sudden changes.

You are not who I thought you were when I gave birth to you three years ago. You are complex and stubborn and sensitive. You are observant and aware and have a powerful memory. You are logical and emotional. You are goofy and inclusive. You are more amazing than my vivid imagination could've ever imagined you'd be.

I realize now that I will never know you completely. But I'm okay with that, Ezra, because I've already seen enough good in you to last a lifetime. You are an incredible person, and I am so proud of who you are becoming.

Happy Birthday, Sweet boy. I love you.

Losing Steam.

It is going to be SEVENTY SIX degrees here today. 76!!

Tomorrow?

Chance of SNOW.

We had a picnic with the neighbors today and I had a tank top on and felt HOT. Ezra's cheeks turned bright pink like he'd gotten too much sun. Yet tomorrow, I will be watching rain and snow from my window- cranking up the heater and feeling like I am in the Twilight Zone.

Oklahoma weather is bizarre.

I must openly admit to the cheese-ball card I'm about to play here and tell you that, yes, I'm moments away from relating these crazy weather patterns to the patterns of my heart/mind over the past few days.

I am losing steam.

My desire and passion to get out and find a job and do new things is fading and I am feeling like my old self again... tired, unmotivated, sad.

Summer yesterday, Winter today.

I have been beating myself up about these things. Telling myself I am not a good Christian, a good wife, a good mum, a good friend. Ezra has started conversing non-stop in the body-cringing frequency of a WHINE. I am quick to lose my temper and my days feel like years. I never go outside. I wonder if God thinks this is stupid. I suddenly wish I was an outdoors-y type of person... leading Ezra on adventures through the woods and taking family camping trips into the middle of nowhere with nothing but tents and food... adventure in our faces and sunsets on our backs.

Why am I feeling this strange tension all of the sudden?

I think it has a lot to do with the recent realization that I have led a completely SAFE and completely SHELTERED life up to this point... and that no one who's ever contributed to the world could describe their lives as "safe". I am so blessed to have had such a life, but when you are an American who has always had everything you've ever needed, it doesn't leave much room for FAITH or total dependence on God. I'm suddenly not okay with being a couch potato Christian. This suddenly seems ridiculous to me, but it's the life I have been living for as long as I can remember.

The God I believe in is not a safe God. He is adventurous and dangerous and wild. He asks you to do ludicrous things with no promise of pleasant outcomes. He calls you to risk your life for others; calls you to lay it all on the line so that He can shine through you. He demands great sacrifice and obedience.

Going to the grocery store is the adventure in my life. And I feel like I don't even know God because I've never really had to know Him. (Is any of this making sense? Didn't I start this post off by talking about the weather?) All of these thoughts seem a bit scary to me. And they are so loud inside my head I can't think of much else.

Back when life was tumultuous and my heart was at a constant breaking point... back when I was fighting for the man I loved... I felt God near. It was the most difficult yet sweetest time of my life. Because I needed Him. I woke up each morning feeling like I wasn't going to survive if He didn't spoon-feed me my next breath.

I NEEDED Him.

So, I am praying. I am praying that God would use me in a great adventure. That He would find me ready and able when and if He ever needs me. I am praying for the motivation to get out of my house. The motivation to volunteer or spend myself on account of someone else. Because right now, I don't have that motivation. I don't have any desire to walk out of my front door. And I NEED that to change because the adventure I so desperately want to be a part of isn't just going to come knock on my door and ask if I'm not doing anything later. And I honestly think that's what I've been waiting for all this time...

I woke up in the middle of the night last night feeling panic at the thought of all of this. Like I'd messed everything up and wanted nothing more than to start it all over again. Regret. The WORST feeling in the world. And something in the atmosphere of my house didn't feel right... there was something heavy and oppressive in the air and I felt scared and hopeless. I tried to pray. I felt a strong urge to grab the dusty Bible on my nightstand. I wished that I had more of His words memorized in my heart so that I could recall them to my mind in the dark.

I prayed that God would forgive me, change me, calm me. I told the darkness in my bedroom that He is Faithful and Good. I whispered it to my quiet room and tried to believe it. My chest started to feel a bit lighter and the atmosphere began to shift. I prayed some more and finally fell back asleep.

So, to the inky stuff inside my heart:

God is Faithful. God is Good.

The weather could change again tomorrow, but those things never will.