Destin, 2015

The triplets' first time at the Gulf

Elijah, sizing up the waves

Andrew, growing taller ever day

Time with Papa and Mimi

Shooting the seagulls trying to eat their snacks!

Isabella's "Garden"

Milestones

Another school year begins and I suddenly have a 6th Grader and a 4th Grader. Something tells me the teens are right around the corner...

Then, there is the annual NICU reunion. It never fails to remind me that with each ordinary day, change happens, seen and unseen, that gives weight to gift of life and glory to its Creator and Sustainer.

February 2012

September 2015

Remembering and Hoping

What I will remember most about my Grandfather was his care and concern for those less fortunate. I will remember the simplicity of chocolate ice cream in a cone and the tender way he prepared it. I will remember his ability to quote poems and scriptures. I will remember his laugh. I will remember his bold fashion choices--- plaid pants and bright colors suited him.

Two weeks ago, after suffering mini-strokes and dementia, he left this place and went on to the next. The "Lasts" blog I recently posted, I read again with him in mind.

Toward the end as his body and mind failed him, he couldn't remember that he and my Grandmother were married. It became a great concern to him! She recounted this story with a teary-eyed laugh. He wanted her to pick him up at 7 a.m. and take him to the church. Her concern was who would come to a wedding that early in the morning!

Even his generous spirit was quieted by his conflicted brain activity. It became important to remember that dementia was a part of him, but not all of him. At the end of his life here, he wasn't himself.

Sometimes, a persons overt and apparent neediness reminds me of this truth in a way that causes me to hope.

Isn't that what we all need? What we all hope for? That as our flesh and hearts fail, something else is true of us? There is another reality--- not just the one we see with limited vision. While it is a different context, I find the epilogue of Psalm 73 fitting. In all times, the nearness of God is my good. The older I get and the more I see my frailty of life, it makes sense. In some way, perhaps truth is easier to believe in closer proximity to the one who is making all things new. The further I am away, the more difficult it is to believe, yet is no less true.

If life is a continuum, birth to death, always moving closer to eternity where death is no longer the end, the ultimate gift for those in Christ is God. It is His nearness wholly realized. The promise that I am being made like Him in the process--- even as my body is wasting away --- is a comfort to my soul. He is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Not me and my grasp of truth (especially when my mind may fail) but Him. Surely strength doesn't originate in me. Lasting endurance in the face of all that is this life is found outside of me.

Sometimes I wonder, am I moving closer to God? Then I remember the words of Jesus, "Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world." In the story of redemption, God draws souls to himself.

My grandfather knows what it means to be bodily near God. His flesh and heart are whole and new.

I am but a whisper of the girl I really am. Simultaneously saint and sinner. In the in-between space. I am not myself. Praise God.

In Memorium
Donald Leroy Abernethy
1929-2015

Lasts

It happens quietly. The days turn to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. I usually speak mid-season evaluating the feelings therein, then the season has passed. The firsts are usually celebrated. Sometimes the lasts, but not usually. I don't always sense the lasts until they are a memory. 

I recently found myself in the midst of a post-last conversation. I was talking with a friend about something new-momish--- and her response signaled that I am no longer a part of that division of motherhood. Apparently, I have moved past that already. Have I? I think she is right! I felt a little sad. The season ended without my knowledge and especially not my permission! Had I known, I would have done something to extend the time into a more indelible memory. My mom, another gal well versed in lasts, says there is a book that voices this sentiment. Even this morning, I read of a different mom, feeling the weight of lasts voiced the same thought in a beautiful way. I am not the first.

I am sure that on the last days, I did not know them from others. The significance was lost in the excitement of what would come, the business of what is current, or in the stillness of the work behind me. The fact they were comes later when something causes me to remember when. Then, it hits me. Sometimes the realization is sweet--- and sometimes, it stings.

The last gaze out my childhood window.

The last figure eight on my bike in the backyard.

The last time we were together, sharing dreams and making plans.

The last drive away.

The last time I was called by my unmarried name.

The last time we went to a restaurant together as a family of two.

The last hiccups, felt some inexplicable place in my belly.

The last grasp of my finger with that tiny hand.

The last time he slipped into our bed in the middle of the night.

The last time she called me "Ma-ma".

The last time he rested his head on my shoulder, arms and legs draped at my sides.

The last walk out of that room.

The last conversation this side of eternity.

I am sure, the lasts shape me. There are some moments I feel ~somewhat~ satisfied when something has ended. But I almost always I wished I would have done {blank}, and I am left feeling unresolved.  Usually, sadness is a signal. But I can't go back. I cannot relive parts of history. There are chapters that are closed.

Mixed into the sadness is joy. The new movie, Inside Out, is brilliant in painting a picture of our maturing natures and the complexities of how experiences shape us. Micah and I took the kids to see this one, but it was really for the adults.

The theme was profound. Most of life is a mix. I don't have many (maybe any?) memories that are purely joyful. Even the most joyful are lacking in something, especially within the expanse of all of life. It may sound depressing, but ironically, the more I am okay with this realization, the more joy seems accessible at any given moment. When the pressure is off to have any part of this life experience ultimate, the joys taste a little sweeter.

The Bible speaks of many lasts. Our lives are full of them. There will be finality for us all. More lasts are approaching. I think it is one way God has set eternity in our hearts. Augustine calls it restlessness. Others speak of it as well.

Someone calls Himself the First and the Last, the Alpha and Omega, Lord of Eternity, the Beginning and End, Who Was, and Is, and Is to Come. Regardless of the direct implications of His name, all things unresolved will find completion in Him that will be perfectly satisfying. As life brings me moments to reflect on my allotted portion of lasts, I ask for continued faith to believe that what (or rather Who) is to come will be even better than my best joys and repent of searching out ways to hold on to hope here. Like John in Revelation, one day I will worship in light of Unending Love. And for the sadness, in His presence, all that is sad will come untrue. And all the joys, will be made fully and wholly complete.

This is not the end. These are not really the lasts. Thank God.

The Opening of Chick-fil-a Jefferson Commons

On Thursday, June 18, the doors opened to Chick-fil-a Jefferson Commons, with my sweet husband at the helm. The weeks leading up to this day were packed with hiring, training, preparing, praying, and growing in increasing thankfulness for the opportunity to serve the community in Okolona we have come to love. Here are some of the highlights:

Premier Night ~ with the addition of our nephew Caleb (although he fits right in with that Childs smile;))

Backstage Tours

Dedication Dinner ~ Passing the Batons to Our Team

Thankful to share this with Family and Friends

First 100 Event

A Visit from Dan Cathy

Micah's Dad, his first paying customer.

Micah's First Evaluation;)

Dedicating the Playground with the "Play Area Supervisors", Andrew and Elijah

A little suspicious of the Cow...

Our Grand Opening Supervisor Extraordinaires

It has been a whirlwind! And we are so thankful. And tired. But mostly thankful.

~Some~ Lessons Learned (for now) Installment 1: Toys

There have been a lot of lessons learned over the years in regard to systems of home organization and while I am absolutely still learning, there are things that I thought might be helpful to someone somewhere. My hesitation is that any suggestion would either 1) make me seem like I have it all together (I do not) or 2) make someone else feel like they don't have it together. This is not my intention. This is simply a way to adjust if you ever find yourself, like me a few weeks ago, outnumbered and starting to lose your mind over all there is to do all the time. And I am not talking stuff that can wait until later. I mean "we cannot function here people!" kind of stuff.

Sometimes, I am asked how I do it all. "Do what? What am I doing" I wonder. Then, I remember. I homeschool and have five children. The honest truth is, I don't do it all. "I am finite, I come to an end," to quote Sara Groves. One of the sure things that daily bring me to my end is all the cooking, cleaning, teaching, training, running, and constant moving. There are days when the "to do's" make me cry, crash, and pray.

One day, it hit me. A season had passed and the mess was a bigger burden. I felt like I was spending all day every day talking to the kids about cleaning up after themselves. I remember looking particularly at Andrew, as he is growing by the minute, and saying, "I don't want to be taking to you about this! I want us to have conversations about something--- anything else. I want to hear from you today." I also was exhausted from of all the time spent picking up. I want to learn stuff, dance, and play! And so do they. Having a bit of a system has helped so much. We still have days where it feels like the walls are caving in and a five-child tornado has passed through, but even then, we have a plan in place to help everyone get back on track. It really does take everyone. Now that the little ones are utilizing their opposable thumbs in bigger-toddler fashion, they are better helpers too.

That in mind, I make these suggestions with this caveat:  we all have different philosophies about play and life in general, and while some ideas may make life easier, it still doesn't mean they are for everyone. And every Mom is wired a different way and is given to her particular children to love. There is a lot of freedom here in respect to what works for different families.

Regardless of the lot, it is hard work. The pay is horrible. But there are bonuses--- moments when God grants the mercy in the mess to look up and see Him and then look around and see them. He gets His "to do" list done all the time, thankfully, and one of those items is sustaining and deeply loving me.

What is true of all Moms who hang their hope on being justified by Jesus is that we are continually loved and accepted. ((Notice that period, it is there on purpose)) Doing this, that, or something else, doesn't make us good Moms. Jesus makes us good Moms. In fact, we are Perfect Mothers in Him (Saints) even while we still struggle and somedays, throw in the towel (Sinners). What is far more difficult than running a home is believing that the Gospel is for me, today, when all my best laid plans fall flat. Without it, redeeming the time (Eph. 5) and working toward discipline in running a home becomes a burden that I cannot carry. Jesus was always timely and intentional. And His record is mine. Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.

Having made that as clear as I am able, I humbly offer this first installment. After weeks of trying to deal with clutter, I am going to focus on toys today as this is where I am finally seeing some progress. Others have probably implemented similar systems and even written about them with better clarity, but here goes anyway.

Recently, the children and I gathered every toy that they own and put them in piles by subject. It was like a page from the The Berenstain Bears and the Messy Room. For real. We got rid of the broken things, the things missing pieces, the things that no one even likes or plays with anymore and discarded or donated them. Some sets, I sold for the kids in a local "Buy, Sell, and Trade" group. Then I split the money between those to whom those toys belonged. I have five children, but we really don't have that many toys. I am ok with that. I love for toys to serve more than one function. If all it does is use up a battery, I am not sure it needs to stick around. Micah and I have spent many days and nights trying to beat the last life out of a nearly dead toy that just won't quit. Toys that require imagination are my favorite for them anyway.

Then, I went to Target and bought bins with detachable labels. Each bin comes with two labels and I really liked that they could serve us in the future if the boxes needed to change function. I also like their aesthetics. as opposed to clear ones. All the kids and I sorted and stored all toys in these bins. I also added whatever toys might fit in the closet among the bins that go along with some of the sets. This has been a game changer. No more do I find ridiculous amounts of toys all over the house--- and if you have children, especially many children, you know how toys can end up everywhere. Doll shoes, Minnie Mouse Plastic Dresses, Beyblades, Matchbox Cars, Legos, in the closet, under the bed, in my sock drawer, behind the dresser, under the stove... everywhere.

I do have a similar but more exhaustive system for Legos. My children love Legos and they can be difficult to manage. They are in a separate location for the big kids and are in clear bins by Lego type.

Whenever playtime is near, they choose a category of toy. They love to play with the sets especially when all the pieces are right there. And when they are done, they cannot have a new set until they pick up and put the first away. Sometimes, I let them have a couple out at a time. It really depends on if they can be played with together. I am not terribly rigid, only partially, as I have witnessed all to often too many toys out at one time, getting thrown, dumped, and generally slung from here to Timbuktu. If people want to sling things, we can go outside and throw a ball or something else throwable. Inside, I generally give them what makes sense, they play, pick up, and move to the next thing. This makes it really easy for them.

I also am trying to have areas in our home where other sets make sense and are stored. For example, coloring books and crayons are stored near their craft table. Playdough is stored in a bin in the kitchen where the hard floor and countertops make cleanup as easy as it can be. Stuffed animals and dolls are stored in large bins in their rooms. I do have a place for some toys in the living room that fit into one large basket. They are mostly the "B" toys and are easily identified and grouped together when pick up time comes around. We also have a music area so if I or one of the big boys go to play some instrument during the day, people gather 'round and play something to add to the band.

The garage is the (almost) same. I have been working on this one more lately. Bins for sidewalk chalk, bubbles, sports equipment, etc. One group of items at a time. Everything has a home.

Even though the system might sound solid and even simple, there are times (many times) things are misplaced and still end up all over. After breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I set a clock for 5-10 minutes. The kids go over the first and second floors (I split them up) and clean up all the toys they find. There are two designated bins (different from the toy closet) they use to collect toys. If a toy is too large for the bin, it is immediately put all the way up. Everything else, goes in the bin. At the last meal at home for the day, either lunch or dinner dependent on our evening plans, the bins are emptied and all the stuff is put back in its appropriate home. Even my threes can do this fairly well with some help. Elijah calls it "a tornado, in reverse."

Sometimes with prompting, I will help with whatever is left. I don't always get everything of mine picked up all the time so it would seem reasonable to give them some help. Sometimes, it does gets donated if it floats around too long or it is obvious no one really cares about that particular thing anyway. You get the picture.

If you have any suggestions or thoughts, please feel free to leave them in the comments. I love when I hear brilliant ideas, even if I store them away for a new season of life. You never know, I may suddenly need a new plan if I begin to lose it again.

One last note,  if you have a community of friends you can help with a project such as this, I can imagine it is much more fun as a team. If you find that one way is not working, friends can be great at helping problem solve. Most of all, we need friends that point us outside of all the work, give us a means to relax, and the are the best at loving us in the struggle and success.

This toil will not remain forever. There will be a day when I will miss my little mess-makers. For today, there is rest- not in systems or in plans but in the One who carries us through the gamut of the calm, challenge, and chaos of raising children. God help us so that all our burdens, big and small, be light and joy remains outside of us, drawing us in.

It Happened in My Kitchen (A Tale of Theology in Practice)

I want you to first know that the below narrative is true. I have wondered what might happen if the persons described read this blog. In some ways, I hope they do. Even though I was minding my own business, this drama found me. It weighed so heavy on me, I felt compelled to write about it. And by now, you all know me--- and that I don't shy away from the serious stuff. I do not claim to have all of this together, but I do think it important to share my thoughts.

A couple of mornings ago, I had two men here doing an odd job for me in my house. The first was an older gentleman who was very quick to share his faith with me. In the course of about a half an hour, he told me of his service at church and shared various opinions about life. I was surprised at his openness. One thing he highlighted was his desire to make sure the children at his church are ready for worship, sometimes speaking to them in front of their parents about their behavior as they walk in the door. He added this bit of information as one of my children was having a "moment". He was a nice guy--- just intense and opinionated.

The second was a bit quieter. He is an apprentice. He is also from NC. In fact, his brother was a former Tarheel Basketball player. It was nice to have someone outside of the state share my affinity for Carolina. He is in college and was working his way through. He had worked at UPS for a while sorting boxes in the middle of the night, as did Micah. It was clear this young man would do whatever he could to make it in life.

As I listened to the two of them speak back and forth, it was clear that the religious man was intent on informing the younger man of his downfalls and then the way he should be, all in the name of Jesus. In between lessons, he would send the young man out to the truck to get supplies. The young man did so over and over without complaint.

Honestly, I sat in my living room, in shock that all of this was taking place in my kitchen.

Toward the end of their job, I entered the room. I tried to encourage the older gentleman. Not much of what I said was received without some interjection that was teach-y. Then, it was implied that the young man had a child. I inquired a bit and he told me he had a son. I congratulated him and affirmed his efforts to care for him.

"He's not here anymore... you don't want to hear about that," the older gentleman added.

"Oh my--- what happened?" I said, trying not to make this guy feel like he had to tell me anything but would welcome what he might have to say.

"He... died," the younger interjected, with a quiet, solemn tone.

This young man shared freely that he had gotten a gal pregnant in high school. She had the baby--- a little boy. But somewhere in his story, he lost custody and the boy was murdered by his mother's boyfriend. He missed his son. And the perpetrator was only sentenced jail time.

There are moments in life when odd jobs and basketball don't matter. They are sacred moments, when heaven might break through. I wanted to hug him (had that been appropriate) and weep with him over the loss of his son. Acknowledging his guilt and pain, I wish I could have shared with him that Jesus came to save sinners and offer hope to the grieving in conquering death. But instead, the older man took control of the conversation. His words were a jumble of things--- all admonishing this young man getting his act together. He spoke of sacrifice and moving on. "Jesus is good, but you have to do something with Him". And then, they left.

I am here to tell you, friends, that is not the Gospel. This young man had endured suffering--- some admittedly by his own choices. But he didn't need to do more right stuff to be right with God. He cannot do enough. Even if he did everything the older gentlemen suggested (and his suggestions were biblical) he still would fall short. He doesn't need biblical morals. He needs a substitute. He needs to know Jesus is right with God and so are those who believe Him (John 3:16). And goodness knows that before we even offer this truth, he needs compassion.

We ourselves are Jews by birth and not Gentile sinners; yet we know that a person is not justified by works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ, so we also have believed in Christ Jesus, in order to be justified by faith in Christ and not by works of the law, because by works of the law no one will be justified.

But if, in our endeavor to be justified in Christ, we too were found to be sinners, is Christ then a servant of sin? Certainly not! For if I rebuild what I tore down, I prove myself to be a transgressor. For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God, for if righteousness were through the law, then Christ died for no purpose.

Galatians 2:15-21

I have been in the position of the older man many times, seeking to reform behavior instead of offer a Savior. There is a point when the Law of God does and must condemn. It is the reason we see our need for a Savior. Sadly, Law is often downplayed as something we can attain to, as if it can fix us. If that were true, then why the life of Jesus and the cross? The cross is a clear sign that we could not and cannot save ourselves. It offers hope to those condemned and should be like a drink of water for the thirsty, a balm for those who need healing. When we realize we are dead without it, it breathes life. The Good News of the person and work of Jesus Christ falls softly on the broken hearted. It brings rest to the weary and heavy-laden (Matthew 11:28). If it comes across as anything else, it is not the Gospel. When we meet weary souls along the way who have been condemned by the Law, we must offer them Good News.

I have spent the last couple of days praying that someone else will speak to this young man--- That he will hear that Emmanuel sympathizes with us in our weakness, there is a Comforter that is with us in suffering, and a Father who makes sinners sons and daughters.

I also pray for the older man--- That God he would learn of God's love for Him in a way that gives him a love for his neighbors.

I also pray for me--- that God would forgive my lack of love and remind me that my attempts to communicate the Good News are perfected in the cross and made discernible by the Spirit. 

To Iowa

As you may recall, I have not been a fan of public speaking. Editing is my friend. Goodness knows, I need some editing in life in general.

However, the last time I spoke for something, one of the veterans at the event gave me a piece of advice:

Find something you are passionate about, and speaking will come naturally. 

I had the opportunity, thanks to my friend Jaime, to speak to the ladies of Oak Hill Baptist Church in Humbolt, Iowa last weekend. I have never been to Iowa before so the trip in and of itself was so much fun! Nor have I ever seen so many fields in my life. Micah and the kids went along. It was quite an experience with three newly-potty-trained people in the car for 11.5+ hours. Whew! Thankfully, we had friends almost exactly halfway between our home and our destination who didn't mind taking seven in for an evening on the way there and the way back.

It was a honor to speak about adoption and the Gospel. If there is anything I am passionate about, it would be these things. It felt like the engagement flowed out of what comes naturally to me in this time and space. I still sit back and marvel at God's mercy on us. He writes the best stories.

If you are interested, the church was kind enough to provide the audio from the event on their website. You can access it here. I have to say, my friend Jaime's introduction is so very kind and a bit embarrassing! She is such a sweet friend and I am thankful that God has given me her friendship in the midst of both suffering and joy in life.

And just in case you hear Jaime's intro and are wondering, I am writing a book. I hope to have it finished by the end of this year so stay tuned;) 

The Time Has Come...

The kiddos are three and ready.

I have not been necessarily ready. With visions of public restrooms with my three, touching, grabbing, and licking everything in sight, I was quite content just letting them live in diapers.

But they are determined to grow up. I guess I can't hold them back forever.

Having trained two boys, the first with trepidation and the next with second-child confidence, I have---eh---had a good plan. It is one that has worked in the past (because the child was physically ready... that is important). I like the plan. It is also one of the first parent/child authoritative yet collaborative efforts that says to them, "I am mom, you can do this, and now we work on it together."

But I don't have one to train, I have three. There is always the possibility of the plan shifting to another plan (like all my best laid plans in the land of parenting and especially parenting triplets). There is a pretty funny article on how to appear smart in a business meeting that suggests asking, "Will this scale?" Well, that is actually helpful around here and it is, indeed, smart.

So we go for it. The first four hours are like an episode of Full-House--- or I guess like 8 back-to-back Full House episodes. There seems to be music playing, resolving all the potty-training conflicts as all three are 6 for 6. Micah is astounded at how easy it all is turning out to be! I have employed Daddy because, again, three... scale. He wasn't around for the first two experiences but here, we do everything together as a team. Two on three are better odds.

It is simple (for them). Go potty, get "One, two, three chocolates!" Do it again. And do it again. There are extra chocolates for the longer potty time. One child realizes she can spread her potty successes out to get more chocolate. Smart girl.

Then I leave to run an errand and people start forgetting. Poor Micah.

The rest of the day is a little sketchy. There were a lot of "Oops!" and "Ahhhhh!" moments. And some more "Yay!" and "Woohoo!"

Day two--- they start getting creative.

Imagine (or see below visual aid) all the littles lined up on their Ikea, green potties. One is successful. The second, happy for the first, lifts bum mid-potty (verb this time) to celebrate. The third, not wanting to be behind, stands and hoists potty (noun) in the air to show the rest.

The next go-round, the potties suddenly liken to racing cars and the trainees begin scooting them across the bathroom floor.

Sometimes, before I can clean all the potties, one or two gets kicked, knocked over, or something from the bathroom, that is more than likely mine, gets thrown in.

The rest of the time, Micah or I am continually herding people around the bathroom so they don't go too far away.

Remember also, this is co-ed. That also makes things interesting. That's all I have to say about that.

Ay-yi-yi.

As I wake to tomorrow's light, ready to go at it another day, at least the bathroom is entirely cleaned and sanitized.

A Few Pics

It has been a while since I posted pictures. Enjoy!

New Eyes

The woman through the first door, who's delicate hands literally poured various drops into my eyes, reminded me so much of my Grandmother. "You are going to love this." she said.

I was nervous. My game plan was to go to my happy place ---the mountain of my childhood--- and remember the sway of the hammock, the sound of the tree canopy in the breeze, and the smell of clean air. It was a good place and a good plan, but as I took my place under the first ominous laser and temporarily lost my vision, I felt hoisted out of there for a bit. The nurse who calmly stated, "12 more seconds... now 5 more seconds" nudged me back. I am sure I left nail prints in the armrests anyway. Then, I went to another room with another laser. I tried to glance through the glass opening in the wall, knowing on the other side, Micah and a dear friend of mine were waiting and watching.

When I was six years old, my teacher called my mother and told her I was struggling to see the chalkboard. Shortly thereafter, I became the proud owner of a pair of blue on the top (like eyeshadow) and pink on the bottom (like blush) glasses. Following the various fashion trends (if you call forrest green/black speckled, maroon, and black rectangle trendy), I have remained in glasses since then. I have tried contact lenses over the last twenty+ years but those brought me some problems. Once, I fell asleep with them in and woke up with a severely scratched cornea. It gave me I-want-to-punch-a-hole-in-the-wall pain and a long recovery. In the last ten years or so, my vision had deteriorated to such a degree that I could not even see the big "E" on the wall with a side of astigmatism. I have been notorious for taking out contact lenses at night without securing my glasses first. While this scene can be humorous for those with good vision, it is terribly inconvenient since I must search two inches away from surfaces until I find them.

I wasn't sure what to think when my husband suggested that maybe I would benefit from Lasik surgery. I have heard great things and not-so-great things. If it worked well, I imagined it would be fantastic. I read all the stuff on the internet... because again, that is what I do these days. "Lasik Gone Wrong" was my preferred search phrase. I had pretty realistic expectations. I prayed nothing terrible would happen.

After the second laser finished and the smell of laser-ed ~whatever part of my eye the doc laser-ed~ cleared (gag), I sat up and immediately glanced at the clock on the wall. I noticed the 5 first. I saw it clearly except for a small bit of blurriness.

After a half-drugged ride home with my Lasik-curious friend who so kindly helped me eat without opening my eyes so much, I returned home. I kept my eyes closed for 5 hours. Then, at 11 p.m., I opened them. No glasses, no contacts, and I could see EVERYTHING.

The only reason vision correction seems so wonderful is because I have lived the majority of life not being able to see well. The other day, I got caught between a seeing-eye dog and his owner in World Market. Suffice it to say, they tried to take me home with them! ---That sweet doggy didn't get an A for the day though his owner took it all in stride. She and I had a good, hearty laugh together. What would sight mean for her? Then, I think of the blind men in Matthew 20 as well as others who got the Lasik treatment ~only far better~ from the One who created eyeballs and corneas in the first place. While the ailments may differ, the ministry of Jesus is full of healing. That is something I know something about first hand as well. The thing that seems to be true about each individual is that they all know they need help. They cried out, "Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!"

When you know you need it, it is what you say.

Even though I have been given eyes to see, I think of 1 Corinthians 13:12 often:

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. 

The older I get and the more I know of myself, the more I experience just how many blinding facets of this life hinder clear vision. But He knows. And one day, faith will be sight. Then and only then will I realize the true dimness of the mirror.

The scripture above falls in a section quoted often about love. The only person that has ever fulfilled the descriptions of true love in 1 Cor. 13 is the One who's name is Love. It is difficult to imagine anyone loving so completely and simultaneously well. One day, I will see the Him face to face. If there is any clue about just how brilliant that scene, I imagine it will be much like John's experience in the book of Revelation when he first sees the One speaking to him. "I fell at his feet as though dead," he says. And Jesus will lift my chin and say, "Fear not." I believe my happy place will be changed forever... help my unbelief.

Extra! Extra!

I am very excited to announce that Micah has been officially named the Owner/Operator of the soon-to-come Chick-fil-a Jefferson Commons. I know I speak for Micah when I say that he is thankful and humbled by the opportunity to continue to serve South Louisville and the community around Jefferson Mall, as the new, free-standing store will be right outside his current location. Our family has grown to love the people there. Both Micah's employees and customers have been a source of encouragement for us over these past years and we are glad to be afforded another means to be connected to them.

Congratulations, Micah!

Three x Three!

And on February 3, 2015 at 8:45, 8:46, and 8:47 p.m., three years exactly from the moments they entered the world: