The Day I Realized I'm a Golden Girl

When I was in college I lived in a dorm full of young, energetic, fun girls. And...we liked to watch The Golden Girls. A lot. I can't explain it. It's pretty funny now to think of all of us fresh young things with time on our hands and the world at our feet gathered around the TV watching The Golden Girls. I think we related to the friendship and fun antics (and a little bit of the drama)  that occurs when a bunch of girls live together, no matter their age. We couldn't get enough.

I still love the Golden Girls. In fact, I share this sentiment-

So, I was watching The Golden Girls the other night (it never gets old), and it hit me....I've become Sophia!

Last week, I had surgery. It was an outpatient procedure, I went in that morning and left a few hours later. I won't lie, I was a little anxious, but I felt pretty prepared. I had done lots of Googling the night before. Which is why I was both anxious and prepared. :)  Anyway, I had worn my comfy clothes and taken off all of my jewelry. The nurse called me back and at the last minute, I decided to take my purse with me. I felt safer with it. I'm lost without it, y'all. 

It seemed like a perfectly logical thing to do until I was walking back into the pre-op area. Then I was all, what the heck do I do with a 40 pound purse? Thankfully, my nurse was super sweet and told me to just put it under my bed with my clothes. And probably cursed me under her breath when she had to push me and the bed and the 40 pound purse to the OR. 

After I changed into my gown and spiffy little hat (which I was super thrilled to realize matched my toenail polish) Josh came back to stay with me. There was some kind of compression thing hooked up to my gown that was making it all puffy. I couldn't stop touching it, it felt so weird. If I ever got to go to the moon I would probably spend the whole time playing with the gadgets on my space suit. Anyway, I mentioned that I had brought my purse and I didn't know why. Josh offered to take it back out to the waiting room. I thought about it. I couldn't part with it. I still don't know why. Maybe I should have asked the anesthesiologist to put a fresh coat of lip gloss on me after she stuck the tube down my throat. 

So, my purse went into surgery with me. When I woke up Josh was there and a male nurse. Of course I got a male nurse. Did I mention this surgery had to do with girl stuff? Right as I came to this nurse lifted my blanket and gown to check out things. Things you don't want stranger men checking out. Whoa! I was not prepared for that! Josh and I both looked at each other like, wha? Very awkward. And I realized that if I could have reached it and it didn't weigh more than I was allowed to lift, I might have knocked that nurse upside the head with my purse just from reflex. And that is something Sophia would do. :)

I can just imagine the dialogue in this picture: 

Dorothy: "Ma, why are you taking your purse into surgery with you?"

Sophia: "In case some male nurse tries to get fresh with me in recovery.  I'm from Sicily, you never go to the hospital without protection."

Photo Courtesy of Google Images

Eleven

Today I have been a parent for 11 years. As my friend Kim would say, I've kept a human being alive for more than a decade! Pretty amazing. And that human being I've kept alive is pretty amazing, too!

You see, when I brought our firstborn into the world I don't know that I gave much thought to what this little person would be like as she grew. Of course I had general thoughts and ideas, but I never could have anticipated just what a gift we received on July 15, 2002. At that point in life I had never experienced such awe. I was in awe! 

I am still in awe of that little person today, even though she now comes to my shoulder and I recently bought her a pair of shoes that are the same size as mine!!! 

This has been a big year. Sarah made the A/B honor roll all year long, got the Principal's award that only goes to one girl out of the whole 4th grade, and was a dazzling dolphin. She also competed in 4 dance competitions and at nationals her dance group was 4th place out of 16 groups and won a judge's award for precision! I am so super proud of her accomplishments this year.

Even more than those awards and accomplishments, I am proud that the librarian at school depended on Sarah to help her everyday. I would often ask her if she actually went to class. :)  But I am proud that an adult would choose her to do tasks that required a lot of responsibility. I am proud that Sarah will occasionally teach at church. And when I say teach, I mean she goes over the night before to prepare her room and plan activities. I am proud that the other girl's mom's in her dance group trust her to be the "mini mom" in her group and help the other girls get ready. I am proud that several of my friends have commented on how good she is with their babies.

Mostly, I am proud of who Sarah is. Lots of people win awards or get compliments, but not everybody has the heart and mind that Sarah has. Her heart is thoughtful and compassionate. Her heart is giving and sharing. Her mind reasons and asks questions and thinks and believes. It is creative and intuitive and curious.

I used to think that I needed to have a plan perfectly laid out for my kids to follow. I would just tell them what they were supposed to be and they would become what I intended for them to become. I'm so glad it doesn't work that way. Because, Sarah Beth Fidler, you are so much more than I could have planned for you to be. I am so enjoying watching you be the person God made you to be. And I look forward to all of the new things that I'm sure are yet to come!

Happy Birthday sweet Sarah!

*Today when I posted this pic of Sarah on FB, a family member commented, "I love that you can see her sweet heart through her smile."  Greatest.compliment.ever.  How I pray that life never steals that smile or that sweetness!!

 "If you feel your value lies in being merely decorative, I fear that someday you might find yourself believing that's all you really are. Time erodes all such beauty, but what it cannot diminish is the wonderful workings of your mind. Your humor, your kindness, and your moral courage; these are the things I cherish so in you." ― Marmee, Little Women, 1994.

What Women Really Think

Photo courtesy of Google Images

Everyday Sometimes, I find myself distracted by a story on Yahoo news. I try really, really hard to keep my attention focused on serious news like what is going on in Syria, or with the IRS, or what Brangelina's kids are wearing, but sometimes I get a little distracted. A story that is sure to steal my attention is one that promises to tell me what men are thinking. Aren't those great? Don't we all desperately want to know what the heck people of the opposite sex are thinking? I mean, I just know that any day a scientific study is going to reveal what causes men (and the little boy versions) to undress and leave their clothes intertwined in a way that would be a puzzle for Houdini. And one day, a study will show us that men have a physical blind spot that makes them unable to see that a toilet paper roll is empty. Just wait for it.

You see, I am a thinker. (I don't know if she is thinking or napping, but she must be a mom. Because sometimes thinking turns into napping like that.)

Photo Courtesy of Google Images

Because I am a thinker, I expect that my man is also. This caused great stress and exhaustion for many years of our relationship. Because I would ask him what he was thinking and he would say,"Not much." Now, when I am asked what I am thinking and I say, "Not much" that means I'm thinking A LOT and I'm trying to make sure you are really prepared to hear what I am thinking. It could possibly take hours. So I thought that's what Josh meant, too. And so I would badger and plead and beg to know what he was thinking. "What are you *really* thinking?" And finally, after many years of this futile exercise, I believed him when he said, "I just don't think as much as you do."

And there it was. A life changing revelation. I finally understood how he could roll over and go to sleep when I still had at least 435 things to think about before I could even get to counting sheep. So, with that new knowledge I'm always interested in these "What Men Think" articles as I am eager to learn if other guys think more than mine. And if they do, what they are thinking about. I came across such an article just last week. "What Guys Think About Your Bikini Body". (For the record, I haven't worn a bikini since 7th grade, but just go with me on this, ok?)  Also for the record, I did not notice the extra links on that page until I linked to this article. I am in NO way endorsing any of those other articles. Seriously, I'm a Baptist Preacher's Wife-the bikini in the picture made me blush. So, as I open this article ready to learn the dirt on what guys are really thinking-there it is. Three things, y'all. 3 thoughts.  And they are short ones at that. And I had to send it on to Josh because I knew he would appreciate how succinct and to the point this article was. Personally, I put more thought into ordering a pizza. 

So, that is what leads to this blog. I just had to write the woman's response. Not necessarily to what we think of a guy's swimsuit body. Because that's the point. By the time we get to the pool, we have very few thoughts of guy's or their swimwear. Sorry. 

*WHAT WOMEN THINK AT THE POOL*

Perhaps I should clarify this is what a married mother of 3 thinks at the pool. Because it may be different for a single, 20 year old hottie. I wouldn't know. I've never been a hottie. And I've been married my whole adult life. For realz.

She's Thinking: Why did I eat so much bacon last winter? And ice cream last night? And 3 packs of Little Bites fudge brownies? 

Okay, so this one is the same. Except from what I have gathered in my informal research called "living with a man", there are times of the month when I will physically attack someone for a Snickers and cry if we run out of Little Debbie's. And he doesn't seem to struggle with this the same way. To add insult to injury, girls just can't get away with putting a t-shirt on over our bathing suit. Because we're supposed to look like this.

Photo Courtesy of Google Images

Which leads to:

She's Thinking: Who the heck wears necklaces and eyeliner to the pool? 

We don't know, but the Pinterest board had it as part of the outfit, so we better. So after we spend a small fortune on a swimsuit, hat, and other various accessories it comes to our attention-we need a tan.

She's Thinking: I need a tan. But this necklace is gonna make one funky tan line.

But it's ok. Because getting any sort of consistent sun would require sitting in one place. And we know that that SO does not happen at a pool with kids. Because no matter how glamorous you feel (yeah right), you will spend an insane amount of time chasing children, lathering people in suncreen that gets on you and makes crazy weird tan lines, and generally stressing about someone drowning for 96.3% of the time you are there. The other percentage of time will be spent stressing about how you look. 

She's Thinking: If I sit like this my legs look totally flabby. If I sit like this, oh my! Everybody gets a show. 

Oh saved by the bell! Had to go jump in after the 2 year old who just wandered by the deep end. There goes the floppy hat. Now that my heart rate has returned to normal, I'll relax with a book. NOT. Everybody is hungry.

She's Thinking: I should have brought organic peanut butter with handpicked, home made strawberry jelly. What will these other mothers think?

You entertain this thought brought courtesy of peer pressure for a few minutes until you must commence with after lunch clean up that includes trying to get jelly out of somebody's hair and re-applying 400 ounces of sunscreen to everyone. Your lunch has never tasted better as you totally like your peanut butter mixed with a little suntan oil and chlorine.

She's Thinking: Why am I eating? I just swore I would never eat again!!!!!

But let's face it, just getting into a bathing suit requires a significant amount of energy and works up a huge appetite. Add in water aerobics (also known as holding on to little people in a pool), carrying the 2 ton beach bag full of things you might possibly, sorta, okay not really, need, and the stress of BEING SEEN IN A SWIMSUIT, and well, okay maybe you need to finish little Junior's sandwich too. 

She's Thinking: Whoa, we need better lighting in our bathroom. Have I missed that same spot on my knee since I started shaving 20 years ago?

Better put that on our list of things to do around the house. And then it hits you that you have to bathe all of these people who are with you. And wash all of the towels. There are so many towels. So, so many towels....

She's Thinking: I'm getting sleepy. Very, very sleepy....

This is pretty much a non-stop recurring thought in her mind at all times, but 150 degree heat and water activities pretty much guarantee that she will trade her firstborn and her Vera Bradley beach bag for a 30 minute nap.

Eventually after a long trek home, the night is filled with baths and loads of laundry and everybody needing to eat again. And finally she makes her way to her turn in the bathroom where she sees that she is a hot mess of running eyeliner, jacked up tan lines and hair that is going in more directions than her thoughts. And for the first time, her mind wanders to a place that finally meets her husband's. They both agree. Let's go to bed!

Why Did the Turtle Cross the Road?

Several years ago when I was burnin' up Mississippi roads for work, I hit a turtle. It was so traumatic. I felt so guilty. So now, I am super cautious when I see one in the middle of the road. Like, swerve and hit a semi or a light pole before I'll hit the turtle. Not really, but still, I am very aware of them. I've seen quite a few this summer. There was one that took 2 days to cross the highway. He was there one day, and the next-still there, just a few steps over.

Another day I saw one as I was stopped at a stop sign. Just as I stopped another car came driving down the road. Just in time that turtle retreated to his shell, and he was good. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I wondered why the thing was crossing the road to start with. Where was he going anyway? As I pondered that deep, thought provoking question I realized that it didn't matter where he was going. The important thing was that he was going somewhere.

As I watched that turtle jerk back inside of it's shell it occurred to me that he could just stay there. I don't think he had an appointment to keep or anything. But he had already started that journey and he needed to finish it.

Have you ever started a journey only to find yourself a bit overwhelmed in the midst of it? Taken just enough steps to get you moving and then think, 'Crud, I can't do this.' But there is really no turning back. Because maybe you have also developed a thick, hard shell of protection, but if you retreat back into it, you're stuck. You're protected. You may be able to avoid injury. But in that shell, you can't grow.

I've spent many years building my shell. Insulating myself. Every negative comment, every uncomfortable conflict, every painful realization. I've grown that shell. And then, I've hidden in it. Someone hurts my feeling, I'm outta here. I have to say something somebody else doesn't want to hear, see ya later! I have to deal with hard life stuff, better equip this shell with cable. 

But, something has happened in the last year for me. I started crossing the road. I had to come out of that shell. I got a job as an advocate, a word whose very definition includes:  a person who pleads on someone else’s behalf (http://oxforddictionaries.com/us/definition/american_english/advocate). I have been forced to deal with tough, uncomfortable situations that did not win me any friends or popularity contests. But they were important things that had to be handled regardless of how hard they were.  In recognizing the importance of  dealing with hard things, I realized how important it is that I deal with the hard things in my own life. To be honest, sometimes the shell just starts to get too small.

Our verse for VBS this year was 2 Timothy 1:7- "For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love, and of a sound mind." The motto was: Facing fear, trusting God! A few weekends ago Sarah went to a party for her dance company. It was at her teacher's house and she lives on the water. Last year some of the girls had gone tubing and Sarah refused. She was scared. This year as we got ready for the party she told me, "I am not going tubing!"  Well, sure enough I got a text from a friend who was bringing Sarah home for me saying, "They're going tubing!" My reply? "Sarah is?!?!"  Yep. She did. And had so much fun she wanted to go again. Later she told me, "I just kept saying the VBS motto. Facing fear, trusting God."  And I could imagine my little PK out there quoting that motto. :) But I was proud. And excited for her that her fear didn't ruin her fun. It seems like a little thing, but it is learning to trust God in those little things that help us trust Him in the big things.

The part of 2 Timothy 1:7 that stood out for me the most was the part that says God has given us a sound mind. I've read and heard that verse so many times in my life, but I've always focused on the power part. Not being fearful is to have power, right? But it's not just that. Fear isn't just about snakes or flying or boogeymen. It's not just about roller coasters or tubing or wearing a bathing suit in public. (What, am I the only one with that fear?)  Fear is not dealing with things because of what other people will think. Fear is allowing people to hurt you because you don't want to hurt them by standing up to them. Fear is staying exactly where you are-physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually-because you can't handle what is on the other side of the road or you don't  know if you will survive the journey across. Fear is hiding in a shell while your mind is filled with anxiety and stress and confusion. And according to 2 Timothy 1:7, it's not of God. 

Sometimes I feel like a turtle trying to cross the road. Like I'm moving at the slowest pace possible while huge, scary things fly by me as fast as they can go. Sometimes my shell protects me, but only for a little while until it is time to get moving again. I wish the journey was easier. That I could learn to move faster or that the obstacles on the road would stop, at least long enough for me to cross. But regardless of how long it takes me or how scary it is, I know I have to keep moving because it's no longer safe for me to stay where I was. It's not healthy. It's not God's plan. You see, we have been through a time (or 2 or 3) when God has physically moved us to fulfill His plan. But sometimes, He moves us spiritually, mentally and emotionally to the place we need to be to accomplish His plan. Whatever change He has in mind, there will be change. I have yet to find a place in Scripture where someone encountered God or Jesus and were told, "Hey dude, you're great. Don't change! Stay just the way you are, you are so cool!" Because none of us are exactly where we need to be, and that's why we need a Savior. He is the reason we are on this journey, and anything that causes us to draw ourselves into our shells and puts a halt on the journey keeps us from reaching the place He desires for us. The place where fear is replaced with power, love and a sound mind. 

Keep crossing the road.

"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live."

Dorothy Thompson 

What If?

Photo courtesy of Google Images

My pants are too tight. I mean, like the part of my day I dread the most is getting dressed, too tight. For those of you who have kept up with me through my blog you know that I made some major diet changes over the last couple of years in order to alleviate some health problems. An awesome bonus of those changes was losing weight. I had even gotten into a smaller size than I was in high school. It made me happy, happy, happy. :)

Well, things changed. I stopped teaching dance six hours a week and started working a desk job that also made the whole healthy eating thing more of a challenge as it meant actually preparing things ahead of time, and come to find out, I stink at that. :) And holidays came. And went. And after eating horribly for 7 months suddenly-boom! My pants don't fit. Even my shirts started feeling tight. For a while I got away with the eating normal thing. I didn't gain weight right away. I even still felt okay. So, I kind of convinced myself my body was healed and I could eat M&M's on the way home from work everyday if I wanted to. 

Of course, all good things must come to an end. A couple of  months ago two of my co-workers told me that I looked like I was expecting. They said I had the glow. I know that was nice talk for "wow, your belly is growing".  There was a day and time when their comments would have led to a complete emotional breakdown when I got home (if I made it that far before the waterworks started). But you know what? It didn't really bother me. The truth is, yeah I have gained weight. I also have a medical condition that at certain times causes my belly to swell like I'm six months along carrying twins. It's not the most thrilling part of my life, but I realized it's also not the worst thing ever. In fact, my co-workers seemed as though they were being complimentary. Now, I do not particularly want to look pregnant (been there, done that, couldn't fit in the t-shirt), but for the first time, maybe ever, it dawned on me that perhaps gaining some weight was not the end of the world. 

And I began thinking, what if we were taught to see things differently in our culture? What if, instead of dreading pregnant and post-baby bodies, we celebrated them? What if we were taught that stretch marks and saggy skin and wider hips are awesome? Not because they are necessarily beautiful to look at, but just because it is amazing what those pregnant and post-baby bodies have done? What if younger girls looked at older women the way that older women look at younger women? With longing for a body different than their own. Even for those who have never experienced pregnancy, there are so many changes that happen. Lines that come from laughter. Hair that grays with experience. 

I once had a friend's mom tell me how you could always tell a woman's age by her hands because women are always dutiful to take care of their faces, but not so much their hands. I've always thought about that. And worried about it. I hate the way lotion feels on my hands and have always felt sure my hands will look 80 years old any day now. But with this new found outlook, I began to think about what that meant. I hope my hands age. I hope that they look like I've done something with them. Because despite what our culture would have us to think, we are not just here to be looked at. 

I recently discovered a website that says all of these things so much better than me. It is called Beauty Redefined and has many articles that discuss this very thing. The idea that beauty is not necessarily what we've been taught that it is. Do you know what one of the greatest things has been about my roller coaster weight journey? It has been the fact that I have finally been able to grasp the fact that I am the same person whether my clothes are a size 6 or a size 12. I prefer how I look at certain sizes better than others, but at the end of the day whatever size my body is, it is housing Emily. You see, it has just been in the last few months that it really dawned on me how much I placed my value in being a certain size or looking a certain way. Like so many, I had bought in to the idea that physical beauty is the only thing that matters about a person. Let's face it, we have that crammed down our throats all the time. Only the beautiful people get to be the lead characters in love stories. Beautiful people apparently get away with crimes because they're better looking. We hear that good looking people are more likely to get promotions. And the idea we internalize is that looks trump every other quality a person has and we only exist to be looked at. Can I tell you something as someone who has been with the same person for 15 years? You can only look at each other so much. :)

Sadly, generations upon generations have grown up thinking that being pretty is more important than being kind. That being skinny or curvy in all the right places is better than being smart. That having a tan beats out being funny. Good hair is way better than being honest. White teeth? Totally trumps talent. It sounds silly, but it's so ingrained in us that it's hard to grasp that it's not the truth. That people are important and valuable even if they could lose a few pounds or need braces. 

When I had lost so much weight I would get lots of compliments about my size. But over the last several months I've had several people compliment me and say, "You look good. You look so happy."   And, maybe those M&M's had something to do with it :), but I like to think that for once what was happening inside of me stood out more than what was going on physically. 

I think that is exactly what this verse is talking about:

³ Do not let your adornment be merely outward—arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel— ⁴ rather let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God.

1Peter 3:3-4

What if?

What if, we spent as much time working on our minds, spirits, and the health of our bodies as we did on just appearing a certain way?

What if, we stopped talking negatively about ourselves and leading to more insecurity of those around us?

What if, we valued the bodies of those who have aged and experienced things we haven't?

What if, we devoted ourselves to growing and doing and serving instead of just appearing?

What if, we decided that if we are okay with ourselves it doesn't matter if anybody else is?

What if, we measured the impact our life has on someone else instead of our waist?

What if, we could learn to not only accept ourselves, but others as well?

But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look at his appearance or at his physical stature, because I have refused him. For the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

1 Samuel 16:7

Eli the Great Turns 8!

Today is special, today is great;

today Joshua Eli turns 8!

He is sweet, he is kind;

since kindergarten he's only made straight A's because he has a great mind.

Legos, sharks, drawing and ball,

FSU and bikes; he loves them all.

Gentle and sensitive, tough and fast;

a smile and a heart that are made to last.

Competitive and hard-working, analytic and fun;

you love to run and run and run.

You're no longer a baby, you're a big kid now;

when I think of you all I think is "Wow!"

Today you are eight,

and everyday you are GREAT!! 

Photo courtesy of Photography by Jenny Johnson

Joshua Eli, there are no words for how proud you make me and your Daddy. From the moment you entered this world on 5/5/05 (my favorite number, btw), you've been a peaceful, sweet bringer of joy. I didn't know what it would be like to add another member to our family of 3; your sister was a little used to being the center of attention. :) But, like the rest of us, she adored you and you brought out the little Mama in her. You also bonded instantly with your Daddy. One of my most favorite memories in life is waking up from a nap not too long after you were born and seeing him with you in his arms. He had changed your clothes and made sure you had on a onesie with a sports theme. He has doted on you ever since and you are two peas in a pod. I am so thankful that you love your Daddy the way you do. You are going to be such a great man because you have his influence, and I will always feel close to your Daddy when I'm with you. Kate has given you the chance to be a big brother and you have excelled at that just like you do with everything. I know she drives you crazy sometimes, but trust me, she thinks the world of you. :)

You are an amazing little boy and I have watched you grow more this last year than any before. You became a follower of Jesus and overcame your fear of being baptized to be obedient to Him. You also have come such a long way in your fear of bad weather, and I am so proud of that because I know that it is no easy task overcoming fears, even for grown ups. 

You are SO smart and ask lots of questions that not only am I not smart enough to answer, I'm not even smart enough to ask. You keep me on my toes. Thank goodness for your Daddy and Google!! You are a thinker and an analyzer and a perfectionist. I'm afraid you got that very honestly. As I watch you beat yourself up over missing a ball or getting a 97 instead of a 100, I feel the need to apologize for the genes you inherited honestly from your Dad and I. And sometimes I want to cry with you. Because it's a personality trait that just stinks sometimes. But, I know God is going to use that drive that you have in a mighty way. Whatever you do, you do it all out! You do it with passion and determination and a desire to do it the best.

Sometimes, you are so smart and gentle and kind that it is easy to forget you are a little boy. Until I see the dirt on your neck and the holes in your jeans and step on Legos. And then I remember. :) And I thank God for giving me such a special little boy and letting me have a front row seat to watch as He grows a man of God right before my eyes. And maybe an FSU baseball player. :)

"And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him"

                                                             Colossians 3:17

Photo courtesy of Photography by Jenny Johnson

Baby Steps

In the center where I work, we have 3 classrooms. The toddlers are 2-3 years old, the mobiles are 1-2, and the babies. While I love reading and conversating with the toddlers, the baby room has been my favorite by far. It felt like such a gift that when I returned to work because my baby started kindergarten, I had a whole room of babies I could rock and hold and cuddle. Even better, I can hand them off to their teachers to get changed. I imagine that's what having a nanny would have been like. :)

The baby room is still my favorite. It has changed a good bit in the 6 months I've been here. Six months is like a lifetime in baby development time. It's gone from a room with sleeping babies to a mini zoo. I never know what will be going on in there, I just know to be prepared to catch a baby. I remember the days when my babies were the age that you never sat down because they never stopped. Now I am just experiencing it multiplied by 8. Bless it. 

They are SO busy. Busy sitting up. Busy crawling. Busy scooting. Busy pulling up. Busy cruising along the bookshelves. And busy falling. It is always like being in one of those slow motion movie scenes when you see a baby start to fall. You start to move to catch them, but your body morphs into slo-mo, yet somehow they quickly fall to the ground, usually making sure to bump their head on a hard surface nearby. I told the teachers we need to just move that class to the triage unit of the ER. They are an accident waiting to happen!!

Despite the anxiety caused by these new developments, it is so exciting to watch! It has always been so amazing to me how one day they just do something they've never done before. And it's really fun to watch their face when they realize they've done something they couldn't do before. Until they fall and cry of course. 

All of this change and busyness and excitement has made me think about the spiritual journey we take as Christians. Mostly it has made me think about how much we try to skip this phase. We decide to follow Jesus and expect that we will wake up the next morning and have it all together. I think we've all watched too many Disney movies and expect that some fairy is going to come sprinkle magic fairy dust and make us perfect. Except of course we learn, we don't believe in magic. :) And yet, we act like that is how God changes us. 

The truth is that the Holy Spirit moves in, but we have to decide to let it grow us. A baby starts crawling because it is the next step in his/her development. But it's not easy. There are days, weeks, even months when a baby struggles to get on all fours. Then, they bounce a while. They know they are supposed to be moving, but they just can't get it going. The truth is, we know that we are now supposed to be full of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness and self-control. And yet, just like a baby sometimes decides it is easier to cry and get picked up than to work on the crawling, we decide it is easier to follow our natural instincts. To be mean, cranky, stressed, impatient and out of control. It's what we know. 

We all face this struggle. The difference for us is that we are able to hide it. We are able to put on a smile when we're ready to bite somebody's head off. We learn to say the right things, even if they are not anywhere near how we feel. And I guess it makes us all feel better to get together and pretend that we're all good, but when we do that, we're missing out on growing. 

I like to imagine that if my babies could talk their conversation would go something like this: 

Baby 1: "Man this sitting up stuff is hard! I can do it, but then I just fall forward everytime!"

Baby2: "I know what ya mean. I've pulled up on that wooden kitchen set 4 times and I've fallen and knocked myself out every time. I think I have a concussion, man."

Baby 3: "I fell and hit the rocking chair and that crazy lady just watched me do it."

The point I'm trying to make (I really do usually have one, it just takes me a while to get there :), is that we should see our church family (all of the church, not just the ones in our building) as our buddies in the baby room. We are all working on things, things that are hard for us and things that we really mess up at sometimes. Sometimes it is painful and messy and not at all comfortable. We've not perfected anything yet. The key is that we are trying. I've yet to see a healthy baby with no developmental problems decide that they can't do the walking thing perfect yet, so they just won't try. It's just understood that they will fall, but then they will get back up.

What is also understood is that the parents and caregivers of those children do not expect perfection. In fact we cheer and applaud every attempt. And yet, as brothers and sisters in Christ, we are often waiting to attack each other and any attempt at growth. Without verbalizing it, we send the message loud and clear, "Come when you've figured it out. We don't really have time for your stumbling." We all know people who think that criticizing is their spiritual gift. It's not, y'all. We all have a responsibility to teach and admonish each other and that includes calling each other out on inappropriate behavior. But, we are to do that in love and by example. We are to do it because we want our brother or sister to go stronger in their walk, not because it makes us feel better about how weak ours is. 

Wherever we are in our walk, we are to keep getting stronger. If you are in the baby steps stage just struggling to get to your feet, keep trying. You will get there. If you are walking, but need more support than others, let people support you until you're strong enough to stand on your own. If you're moving slow, learn as much as you can along the way. If you're a strong walker, grab someone by the hand and help them along. No matter where we are we all have the same goal: to run.

Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, 

~Hebrews 12:1