A few months ago (nearly four, to be exact), my family and I packed up, left our home in Iuka, drove five hours, and moved in with Dennis’ parents on the farm. It was a move that we had been planning for quite some time, but that somehow came all of a sudden. For years we had been talking about moving “back home,” but we didn’t think it would become a reality so soon. And then a job opportunity opened up, and before we knew it, we were packing boxes and putting a sign up in our yard.
Life changes fast, y’all.
I haven’t said much, or anything really, about it because it took me a while to process. In case you don’t know, I don’t handle change very gracefully. It takes time for new things to sink in with me and for me to adjust to the newness of it all.
That said, I’m so glad that we moved. Of course, I miss our friends. Very much, in fact. I miss being a short three hours away from my parents. I miss having lunch with my two best friends and their little girls. I miss spending afternoons at the park watching Micah play with her best friends. I miss pouring into “my girls” at church. I miss our home. I miss our church family. I miss all sorts of things about Iuka. It’s never easy to leave behind people and places that you love. Our life in Iuka changed me. The people there are very dear to me, even still. They won’t be forgotten.
But I’m very excited to be here. Micah and Kendall have been loved and doted on excessively since we moved here – both from Dennis’ parents and from my aunts and uncles. I’ve enjoyed spending time with family that I only got to see once or twice a year when we were in Iuka. It’s fun to know that my girls are making memories with some of my very favorite people in the world.
It’s also fun to know that my girls will grow up in the same place that I did. Interesting tidbit about Dennis and me: we grew up right down the road from each other and only met when we were in college. Our lives criscrossed more than once when we were kids. We have mutual friends and acquaintances. We participated in the same countywide quiz bowl tournaments. He went to prom with one of my softball teammates. Our world, it seems, is very small indeed. We moved to Franklin just before I started eighth grade, and I thought that was the end of my life in Brandon. I never would have guessed that I would move back 17 years later. And yet, here I am :)
This week, I’m (hopefully) going to lunch with one of my friends from middle school. We will (maybe) go look at a house. We have a (tentative) playdate with a little girl from church. Micah is signed up for preschool in the fall, and Dennis is really happy at his new job. In short, we’re moving on.
At least, we’re trying :)
Until next time, grace and peace.
When Dennis and I first moved into our house in Iuka, we were excited to be out of our cramped little apartment and have a little bit of space to move around. Then we started walking through the yard and noticed that where there should have been grass, there was a thick layer of dandelions. And, in case you didn’t know, dandelions are like the black plague of landscaping. They’re tough little boogers to get rid of.
Right now, I’m realizing that pride has taken root in my heart like a yard full of dandelions. It’s a sneaky thing, really, because you don’t realize how dangerous it is and how deeply its roots have burrowed until you start trying to rip them out.
My most recent battle with pride has to do with my girls. When others gush over my girls’ gorgeous blue eyes (they are stunning, if I do say so myself) and praise Micah’s smarts (because she’s a child genius, y’all) or Kendall’s laid-back personality (who doesn’t love an easy-going baby?), I swell with pride. And not just a little bit of pride. It’s a lot of it.
If it were just those things that I’m prideful over, it might not be so bad, but it goes deeper than that.
For three and a half years I’ve gloated over the relatively good health of my kids. As if I had anything to do with it. Seriously. Micah NEVER got an ear infection as a baby. She was rarely sick, and when she did come down with a cold, she bounced back quickly. Other people’s children suffered from chronic ear infections and were always sick, but not mine. My kids were perfect, and I was proud of it.
Until now. When Micah came home from preschool in early December with a nagging cough, I never dreamed that we would still be battling its lingering effects two months later. And yet, here we are. First it was Micah. Then it was me. We both hacked and sniffled for nearly a month before the antibiotics finally did their work and we got better.
But then Kendall started coughing. And then she got her first little ear infection and took her first round of antibiotics. Ever. And then the ear infection came back, so we stepped it up to the next level of antibiotics. Ten days of that, and I thought she’d be better (because my kids ALWAYS bounce back), but over the weekend, she started going downhill AGAIN, so I took her back to the doctor yesterday morning.
Guess what? The infection is back and worse than ever before. Her poor little eardrum is so swollen that it’s on the verge of rupture.
And I nearly cried. Especially when I realized that I was taking these ear infections personally. I’m ashamed to admit that they have seriously wounded my pride. Yes, I’m concerned about my daughter and her health, but I’m also concerned about my track record as a parent, and that’s shameful.
The crazy thing is, I know how ridiculous this all sounds. It’s stupid for me to be prideful of my daughters’ health because the truth is that their wellness has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the grace of God. The only reason that we have enjoyed three and a half years without any major issues is because the Lord has willed it so. Period.
As a mom, it’s far too easy to take credit for how great my kids are, even if I have nothing to do with whatever it is that people are praising. My greatest temptation is to pass off the work of the Lord as my own – to accept all the credit when really, all the glory is due to Him alone.
It’s no secret that the baby years are hard for me. When I see other mothers floating through the early months of their kids’ lives on a fluffy pink cloud of bliss, I want to gag. I always assume that they’re just pretending. The reason that I assume that? Well, in my experience, God has used both marriage and motherhood as chisels, chipping away at my character and removing anything that doesn’t reflect His likeness.
Apparently, there was a lot of junk that needed to be cleared away, and, in case you’re wondering, it’s not exactly fun. It’s painful. But hey, I’ve heard that the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem. So this is my confession. My name is Leslie Ann Jones, and I’m a recovering pride-a-holic.
When stuff like this happens, I am reminded that God is still working on me. Right now He’s helping me realize that the pride that I have tolerated for so long has taken root in my heart, and it’s time to do something about it. Thankfully, He’s pretty good at wrenching out things that don’t belong.
Until next time, grace and peace.
{print available from the wheatfield}
Our world is one of instant gratification. I can have popcorn in two minutes and the response to a text in seconds. Thanks to my fancy phone, I never have to wait until I get home to check my e-mail, and I can update twitter whenever it strikes my fancy. I grow annoyed at red lights and frustrated at train tracks. Waiting is not something I do well.
I know I’m not alone in this. Go on, admit it. You’re not good at waiting either. You know what you want, and like Veruca Salt on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (the original version), you want it now.
The fast-paced-have-it-your-way-in-five-minutes-or-less culture that we live in has bred us to expect instant results. And most of the time, that’s fine. Except, of course, when we’re required to wait.
This week, I’ve been studying the Old Testament story of Abraham and Sarah. God promised them something big, and they waited a looooooooong time – 25 years to be exact – for it to happen.
Have you ever been there? Stuck in a holding pattern, waiting for something more? I am so there, y’all. I know how they felt. God promised me something a long time ago, and I’m wondering how long it will take for it to happen.
A couple of months ago, I went to Nashville with some other women from my church to attend a leadership forum. As I listened to some really fabulous women speak and teach, I was reminded of how badly I desire that kind of ministry. I recalled the moments in my life when I have felt God’s firm hand tugging me in that direction…and yet…I wait.
Don’t get me wrong – God has always been faithful to me. He has provided writing projects that have stretched and challenged me. I am currently overwhelmed by offers from editors, and that’s a good thing. Three years ago, with my brand new M.Div. gathering dust in the closet, it took me months to generate any sort of interest in my work. Months. I am thankful and grateful for the editors who have taken chances on me and allowed me to contribute to their publications. They have helped me get this train rolling.
But I’m still not satisfied. I want more. The prophet Jeremiah famously said that the word of God burned in him like a fire that he simply could not hold in.
I’m weary of holding it in, y’all.
And yet, in six short months, I will give birth to a brand new baby. My sweet little toddler is turning into quite a handful. I can’t even manage to go to the grocery store most weeks, much less travel across the country teaching the word of God. It’s just not time for that dream to become a reality. As much as I long for God to use me in such extraordinary ways, I feel like He is first calling me to be faithful in the place I am right now. In this stage of life. To raise my babies and serve in my church and write when I can.
God’s delay in fulfilling His promises is not His denial of their eventual realization.
Abraham and Sarah learned that by waiting. As for me, well, I’m trying. Patience takes practice, you know. I’m learning that just because it may not happen overnight doesn’t mean that it won’t happen at all. I’m taking it one step at a time and one assignment after another, all the while trusting that God’s timing is impeccable.
Until next time, grace and peace.
{print available from Red Letter Words}
Surprise, surprise. It’s me again. Look out world, I’ve posted two days in a row :)
I’ve been thinking a lot about yesterday’s post, and I realize that it could have come across as a bit, well, depressing.
Rest assured that Peanut (our temporary name for bambino numero dos) is not unwanted. To the contrary, we have talked about Peanut since before Micah was born. Peanut is most definitely wanted and loved. That said, Peanut’s emergence into our lives is unexpected and unplanned at the moment.
And in case you were wondering, unplanned pregnancy is hard. Period. Yes, this child is a blessing, and I am thankful that we have the means to care for and nurture Peanut. I am overwhelmed by the idea that God has entrusted yet another human being to our care, and yet, now that I’ve had a few months to get used to the idea, our lives would somehow be incomplete without this baby. This unplanned, unexpected baby is most certainly loved and wanted.
And so, life goes on. I am adjusting to the idea that Micah will be a big sister soon – even if I have absolutely no idea where Peanut is going to sleep. We’ve got some time to figure all that out.
I’m also learning that there’s some wisdom in adding “God willing,” to all your future plans. God willing, Peanut will arrive into this world a happy and healthy child. God willing, Micah will be the best big sister there ever was. And God willing, Dennis and I will be the kind of parents that God created us to be.
Until next time (God willing), grace and peace.
Seeing as how my last post was on October 26 and lots of life has happened between now and then, I thought it was only fitting to re-enter the blogging world with a little recap of the last couple of months of 2011. I know, we’re almost halfway through January, and I’m late to the looking back game, but that’s just how life is at the moment.
You may (or may not) remember that I started off 2011 with some lofty goals of cultivating both discipline and intentionality in my life. I established some good habits and by and large did very well for the first 10 months of the year.
Then I got pregnant.
Yes, you read that right.
I am with child.
See? The picture says so.
Baby number two is set to arrive in early July, and the news came as a great shock to me. The planner in me reeled from the fact that God’s plans differed so drastically from my own, and I’m still not completely used to the idea that there will be another little kiddo in our house come July. It’s a big change that I’ve not yet adjusted to.
Thankfully, God provides nine months to get over the shock. I’m still working on it :)
I’m one of the lucky ones who doesn’t really get sick when I’m pregnant, but what I lack in nausea, I make up for in exhaustion. The end of 2011 found me pretty lackluster, which meant that many of my lofty goals got shoved to the side.
Not making excuses – just being honest.
For the most part, I’ve kept the news offline because I just wasn’t ready for it to be real, but in an attempt to actually deal with reality, I’m putting it out there for all of you to see.
The place I’m in at the moment is difficult. I want to be thankful and excited about this baby, but right now it’s hard. And that makes me feel guilty, because I know that children are a gift from God. I also have entirely too many friends who have struggled with infertility to be flippant about this. We’ve always wanted more than one child…
This just isn’t when I thought it would happen.
And that’s really the heart of the issue. Because I’m a control freak, it drives me crazy to be reminded that I am not, in fact, in control. God is. He always has been. He always will be.
It’s not always easy to conform your own will to the will of God. This is a truth that I’m learning all over again.
I put all this out there for the sake of honesty. When it comes to babies and parenting and life in general, I’m afraid that we glaze over the difficult parts and put on a plastic smile far too often. But when we do that, we rob ourselves, and each other, of the authenticity that we desperately need.
So here’s to being authentic. And the arrival of the second trimester, which, so far, has brought more energy. Hopefully, that means I’ll be around more often.
Until next time, grace and peace.
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