reflections

It's a rainy day (again), and the saturated ground outside with its dreary grey sky is making me feel contemplative as I watch my Little Man sleep this morning. (How is he sleeping?! He slept through 7 hours last night!!! My big boy!) So maybe after a decent nights sleep I'm also having more energy to think today. And so I'm writing, even though I feel the weight of needing to do the cleanup tasks around the house and needing to make sure I fit in a shower too in case he doesn't sleep later. :)

It's almost the end of 2015. Crazy.
I'm a mother now. Even crazier.

And in the last week as my Little Man has grown before my eyes... growing into and out of clothes so quickly I'm not sure which ones fit on a regular basis... He's also becoming less "baby" and more aware of his surroundings. It's so sweet. And terrifying.

Probably because the weight of being responsible for this little life is becoming more and more real. (It may be because we are less and less in the daily survival of the fittest mode... I am not going from one feeding to the next, and can think more about my day if I need to. I also am going back to work in 14 days, so I am trying to plan ahead a bit and prepare ourselves.)

He's starting to really look around him. To focus on bright lights and playthings. He "talks" to the monkeys on his play center, and opens his mouth in a big grin if you get the right ticklish spot on his fat
belly. (Even though he normally is such a serious boy, those two things happen regularly now!)

And as those eyes become more and more aware... I also am thinking about the weightiness of praying for his soul. Wanting to be a patient, thoughtful, godly, disciplined mother. My heart comes into my throat thinking about how soon I'm going to need to do more than just feed and diaper him. And wow. The responsibility.

Aren't these things I should have realized before? Isn't this kind of thinking a little bit late? Because of course, babies become little people, who grow into bigger people...

2016 is gonna be a big year. In so many ways.

When did you?!

Sometime during this family-filled, action-packed weekend, my Little Man learned how to smile (not just the "I'm gassy" smile either!). And he gives a bemused look when I play peekaboo now too. He also follows faces with his eyes. I'm so proud I could burst. 

It's totally crazy that I feel like asking "when did my little preemie grow up?!" when he is on track developmentally! 

figuring it out

So I've read and heard in many places that the minute you think you've got this parenting thing figured out... kids throw you a curveball. Well, I'm experiencing this first-hand... and Little Man is only three weeks old!!

Last night was difficult. We were up almost every hour. My blessed husband took a before midnight shift... but when he woke me up at 11 (from a REM sleep that only sleep deprived moms can achieve after an hour of being in bed), he was frustrated. Tired, and oh so frustrated. Little Man was not following the 2.5-3hr pattern, and my husband was at his wits end with the screaming. Poor Little Man and poor us! He was oh so gassy all night long. Until this morning... after my husband already dragged his tired, aching body to work... Little Man had the biggest poop. All over his clothes, all over his blanket, and almost all over me.

Now he is peacefully and happily asleep. :D
And I've never been so grateful to clean up such a mess in my life.

That's the hard part.

The really good parts are things like noticing that this week is Little Man's due week... and he's been so much more awake during the day. He will eat and then "play" or look around a lot more before he goes to sleep. We even set up the little play station that Great-Aunt Rachel gave him (coincidentally also monkey themed like his room will be!), and he spent a good half-hour kicking his feet and flailing his arms around happily under the brightly covered canopy. How fun to see this and then realize (when reading a developmental chart) that premies usually become more awake when they reach their gestational age!!

His pants still don't fit... and many newborn onesies are still huge on him... but his cheeks are becoming rounder... and he fits so much better in his car seat (we got the kind that converts into a toddler seat and then eventually a forward facing booster seat. A great idea, but we didn't realize that the major downside is that it's not really meant for tiny babies!)

keeping it real Wednesday...

A distant friend of mine, whose FB feed I highly enjoy and who I wish I had the chance to become real friends with; but can't due to distance and difference in stages of life has started a "keeping it real Wednesdays." She lives in Cambridge, and it may seem like she has a picturesque, wonderful time with her three children picking blackberries in the park, reading Narnia series, getting groceries delivered to her flat... but she posts the hard stuff on Wednesdays. Not to complain... but to keep it real. Like, last Wednesday she took a picture of the hallway in their teensy flat... with stuff everywhere. Life is not always picture perfect, though FB makes it seem that way.

So I don't want to complain today. I do have the most wonderful husband, who last night when I simply could not keep going and slept through absolutely everything until midnight (woops).. took charge of the baby, fed him, burped him, dealt with an increasingly gassy/fussy baby, and changed his first ever poopy diaper (!! so proud of him. Kinda sad I wasn't awake to witness it. My husband does not do bodily fluids/semi-solids... and told me when I got pregnant that all poopy diapers would be mine. He he!) I also have the most compliant baby. He seriously is so calm most of the time. The only time he complains is at bath time, when I change his diaper, when he is super gassy, or when he is absolutely starving (aka: He's been giving me 'signals' that he's hungry for a while, and I am not paying attention). And I have a fabulous mother-in-law who unselfishly has served us fantastic meals breakfast, noon and night, has loved on us by making me all these crazy Chinese herbal teas, and has been a reassuring presence in our home for almost two weeks.

But we have had to switch formula which may be making Little Man a bit constipated (actually fussy every once in a while now), and he may be starting a growth spurt (every hour feedings?!), and I am making even less breast milk than my initial low supply (I'm only nursing now to give Little Man some antibodies and some skin to skin time, basically. Not real nutritional value. Frustrating to not live up to my expectations of myself.)... hence I am now super low on sleep. So very low on sleep. In fact, this picture was taken because he finally (finally after trying all night long) is asleep in his pack-n-play. Sigh. I know all new mothers go through this sleeplessness phase... but oh, boy. The prolactin headaches, and the no coffee - even though it feels like there's hardly enough breastmilk to warrant either. The stiff back, and the ever-present bone weariness - even in the face of the most adorable human being on earth. Even the well-meaning white ladies (cause lets face it, the Indian sample lady gave me a lecture about not taking that young of a baby out of the house before one month of life) at Costco that cooed and ahed over my teeny-tiny Little Man in a wrap carrier, and told me how wonderful this stage of life is... acknowledged the sleepless nights. But oh... he's so cute!! :)

The story...

The details are already fading from my mind. Little Man's birth was so momentous, how can I be letting details fade?
... But Michelle wanted details... and I need to remember... so here's a long account of Little Man's arrival.

Sunday night I started having some pretty bad cramps.. I didn't really identify them as contractions until later on in the evening. (silly first time mom) We took the night off from small group because we were both just feeling tired from our work weeks, and not really looking forward to the week to come... and I made husband take me out to ice cream with the last of a gift card my sister gave me for my birthday. I managed to get a few hours sleep that night, but by about two in the morning I began to think that maybe I was actually having contractions. At 5 am, I called my mom, thankful that she is currently six hours ahead of me, and could be available to calm me down. She started advocating different ways to help progress the contractions, and I still kept thinking that I had Braxton-Hicks contractions and maybe if I drank enough water and took off of work that they would calm down because I didn't want to have a 36wk baby!

By Monday night, the pains were still about the same, and I was pretty much going out of my mind with the uncertainty. The OB's medical assistant had told me earlier that if contractions were five minutes apart and lasting one minute, I should go to the hospital. Well, at about 9pm we were headed to the hospital where they put me in triage, put a BP cuff on my arm set for every five minutes, and then left me to wait. Ugh. I started thinking that maybe I had made the wrong decision and I should have just waited this out at home. After about an hour, they determined that perhaps my contractions were regular, but I was not progressing into active labor... but the blood pressure readings they were getting were concerning. I tried to argue that the BP was taking every time I was having a contraction... but the OB on call was not taking that argument. She decided to admit me for "observation"- doing a 24 hr urine collection and watching my BP. I disagreed with her that I was at risk for preeclampsia, but I just wanted the pains to stop, so I thought I'd comply.

All Monday night, even though I tried to sleep... and I was in one of the nicest hospital rooms I've ever seen... I could only get some relief if I was on all fours. Really random detail... they weren't really changing in pace, frequency or strength, but I was getting ragged by the early morning. When day shift came in, I found out that I was going to have another ultrasound, which surprised me...

Long story short... after a few more hours of waiting... my day shift nurse came in and told me that my doctor had decided to induce. She wasn't sure how many details she could share, but she was sending me to L & D and thought that I needed to know at least that much.

Then the whirlwind started. I was wheeled into L & D at around 12pm. Got introduced to a wonderful nurse who would take care of me and chit-chat with me and make me laugh and just distract me from my ongoing contractions while we waited for my OB to tell me why I was getting induced, and waited for anesthesia to come put in my IV, and then waited again for anesthesia for an epidural, and then started the waiting game for Little Man. She was fantastic professionally and personally. I wished we could be friends.

(side note... that wait for anesthesia to put in an IV... almost two weeks later I still have the bruises from the 7 attempts made by various L & D nurses to put in an IV! It took an anesthesiologist, a doppler, and two tries to get one IV in!! The nurses nicknamed me "crap for veins." I wear that badge with pride :P )

Why were they inducing me? Well, apparently that ultrasound showed that I had an abnormally high amount of amniotic fluid surrounding Little Man that was not caught in previous ultrasounds.... and also, it looked like blood flow through my placenta was less than optimal (another reason why Little Man is so little). Since these factors were less than positive, they were not going to try to stop the contractions... and instead encourage them.

By the time we finally had an IV, but before they started the pitocin to induce me, they checked my cervix and I had progressed to 3cm on my own! So, really, Little Man was not induced but they were going to try to encourage him to come by starting some more pitocin. As the afternoon wore on though, they realized that every time they bumped up the drip... Little Man's heart rate would plummet. So when my OB rounded and told me that afternoon that I would most likely be delivering late that night or sometime Wednesday... he really thought that I would be in labor a lot longer than it turned out. Little Man was coming whether the world was ready or not!

Shift change happened, and I was apprehensive about my new night shift nurse... she seemed young and inexperienced. I was that nurse that judges fellow nurses :/ I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, but was SO thankful when the on-call OB for that evening came in. She was a firecracker!!! She was country, and very 'Kentucky', but she took charge of the room like a drill sergeant and clearly meant business. I was so thankful, since my night nurse looked like she wasn't quite prepared for my son to come into the world. Bless her heart, I would have hated to be this MD's nurse (so demanding and perfectionist)... but BOY was I glad to be her patient! The doctor quickly assessed the situation, called for a delivery cart, told my husband in no uncertain terms that he was going to be involved in holding my leg no matter what kind of deal we had made before the hospital (poor queasy guy!), and got the party started. This was about 7:30pm. Welcome to your shift newish nurse! Poor thing. I did feel for her... kinda.

By the time they set everything up and got things ready, I was definitely ready to push. My epidural was also starting to wear off, so I could tell when a contraction was happening and wanted to push. I was ready for this ordeal to be done. (Side note: thank God for modern medicine and epidurals. I know everyone at seminary is all about the "all natural" and "we were made for giving birth" and all that other stuff... but once I finally got that epidural I could FINALLY finally finally have the brain space to appreciate that I. was. having. my. baby. You know? Because from early Monday morning till Tuesday afternoon 98% of my brain was devoted to "don't freak out. don't freak out. breathe. breathe."And so wasn't able to fully process the situation, until the pain was muted.)

Mid pushing the OB on call was telling stories about how long first time mothers usually have to push... and I was going, "there's no freakin way I'm pushing that long" and I doubled down my efforts... and then... woosh... in a gush of fluid, out Little Man flew. As Shing tells it from an outside perspective, the OB was turned around starting to fiddle with the suction when suddenly she had to turn back to me and catch Little Man football style. Needless to say, his descent was not controlled... and though he was only 5lbs and 2oz at birth... I had almost 4th degree tearing. Yeah. Ouch is right.

OB on-call was so pissed... and not only that, but she realized that my epidural had worn off and she couldn't even touch me to staunch the bleeding. She yelled for an anesthesiologist, and I remember mayhem as everyone (including the charge nurse) trying to appease her as both anesthesiologists were doing epidurals at the time. Oh boy, was she upset.

Even though I was in pain, my legs were awkwardly in stirrups and everyone coming in and out of the room had a good look at my bleeding underside... all I could focus on was the NICU team looking over my Little Man. Thankfully his Apgar score was a 9- he had a good cry, and he checked out a-okay. He was swaddled and shoved into his father's arms (who was standing almost numbly, traumatized by his wife's pain and bloody mess) and the NICU team cleared out.

He was 5lbs 2oz. 19 inches long. Born at 8:20pm on 10/13.

I had really wanted to hold Little Man skin to skin right after birth... but because of all the fixing she had to do, the OB nixed that idea. Very disappointing for me, but I was so thankful for her expertise as she whip stitched layer after layer of skin together calling out for another clamp, another thread pack, another needle.

So my husband held Little Man, wide eyed and so alert, as he took in the outside world for the first time. He was precious. And my heart swelled to see how gingerly, yet tenderly my husband held his little bundle.

Shortly after I got stitched up, my blood pressure fell... most likely due to the extra meds that kicked in with the epidural when anesthesia had to rush to my bedside on the command of the on-call OB. They had to stabilize me with extra fluid, and I think some epinephrine of some kind... So we ended up staying in L&D with one-to-one care until almost shift change the next morning when they transferred me to the mother-baby unit.

I'm so thankful that's over (and that I'm not pregnant anymore! It was getting so super, super uncomfortable in my own skin). But I'm so happy with the tiny bundle God gifted us with!!

Welcome little man

Dear Elias Carson Chow,

Welcome to the outside world. Your arrival was unexpected in it's timing, and explosive, to say the least. But I'm so glad you're here!
What a shock and surprise, and even as I type this I'm so low on sleep that I can barely function. I'm so happy you are out of me... the last few months have been uncomfortable. However, you are also the cutest thing I have ever seen!! So yeah, I'm a million times happy you're here.

I don't even want to forget... despite this pain, despite the unpreparedness that I feel, despite how much I'm not looking forward to not sleeping for the next few months... oh I'm so thankful for you!!

The morning after you were born I grabbed some scrap paper and wrote this down (seriously my legs weren't working quite yet, and the scrap piece of paper was an old menu... he he)

"What overwhelming blessings!! Dr. Allen to admit me for 'observation' against my wishes. And Dr. Steward deciding to 'induce' even when it didn't look like I was progressing. Dr. Bunch to sew up... and take charge. For Karen Deims- such a fabulous great, great nurse to both chat with me through the whole day of L&D, and to also be technically proficient throughout. Dr. Jobe for epidural (And epidurals in general!!) Tish the OR tech for comforting and cleaning up so well and being a solid presence during sewing up.
God thank you for little man's safe delivery!!!!
I'm oh so grateful, so glad he came out- glad he came out screaming loudly and wonderfully healthy too! Thankful he's trying to latch (really pray we get this breast feeding thing under control...)
Thankful that labor was quick (relatively), and he came not too close to Halloween :) :) So blessed by friends who care, staff here, and all the supplies and things, the ability to have this baby, and my wonderful, so sweet poor-tired husband. God- you gave me more than I asked and pleaded for when you gave me Shing- thank you!!
Thank you for working all this out- from possible preeclampsia to polyhydramnios and placenta issues to little man's dictating his own arrival with almost no pitocin.
Thank you for Elias Carson Chow"

It's been a busy month...

And we are now homeowners! All of the work, thought, indecision, and prayer culminated in an intense two week period of working full time (for both of us) AND painting/moving in... and now I am just fine-tuning where things go.

My husband puts things away already in their final resting spots the very first time... but I prefer to 'get a feel' for where they might be best. So I'm still shifting things around (to his dismay when he can't find something), but here are some pictures of before move-in and after our move-in!

Note the hideous yellow fixture, tan/yellow walls... 

This is my very favorite view of the whole house.
 My husband's hard, hard work of electrical rewiring and painting paid off!
Even the repurposed red curtains (that will eventually get replaced), look nice in the space. 

 The gorgeous green view out that window that has not changed...

But isn't this inside much homier?! (also my husband's ingenious
shelf system is key for decor and organization!)

Reddish-orange paint took a lot of work to cover up... 

But now it is a wonderful place to bake in! 

The study (ack that green!)

Well... still a work in progress... but will be music room and study eventually!

The bathroom was dull, and
the tan paint  just emphasized the pink in the countertop and floor.

A coat of grey paint complements the pink and grey marbling on the countertops...
So it feels less pink, and more neutral. So much happier now that the tub drain is fully functional too!! 

Before it just looked so plain, square, and small. 

But now it is our nice little bedroom retreat... 

Even though we had to be very creative about repurposing some of our other furniture for storage! 

Stay tuned... the baby's room is still in progress... right now it's still an ugly shade of yellow and has extra paraphernalia that needs to be situated. 

Bragging...

I just had to post all these pictures... bragging on my man and all his hard work to get us moved in!! 

Opening up some primer... 

And getting started on that awful red-orange. 

And then taking a 'break' to do yard work since the grass won't wait till you have time later.

Thankfully he bought himself his birthday present this year... lots of tools!! 

And I'm extra grateful I didn't have to drive this sucker either. 

Last but definitely not least... standing on the dining room table
 ridding our house of an eyesore,
discovering some shady electrical practices of the past,
and putting in a new light fixture! 

Man sized Lego

As homeowners we are settling in... Too fast for me, too slowly for him... But as we compromise, last night we bought some shelves and stands from Target. My man's Lego for the next day :) 

Only one passport

It's 4 am and I should be sleeping... So I started praying... The pastor's family and their daughter in the hospital, my dear husband, situations at work, this little one, the house we put an offer on last night... 

And then I realized, that in all of our conversations about how bi-racial this child was going to be... I never once thought that he/she will only have one citizenship. Till this early morning when it hit me with the finality of its verdict. That's it. The only option. One-country citizenship. 

It was a scary enough thought that made me even more desperate to jump on a plane. 

But this has got to stop. Seriously, this TCK thing may be an idol that needs dismantling in my heart. Proper perspective? Most people only have one citizenship, one point of view, one place "where they're from." 

The least I can do is allow my kid to answer one easy question that will always be thorny for mama. And hope that my stories and plenty of contact with both grandparents round out a worldview that's not centered around this country. 

My Oma

      On this Memorial Day, I had the chance to do laundry, clean the house a bit, and then even use my ancient sewing machine. As I was sewing my brain meandered to thinking about my dear Oma and her old foot pedal Serger. She is struggling lately with her health as her physical heart weakens... but her mind and her heart for God are as strong as ever.

       Oma raised 4 kids under the age of 5 (and then had a surprise child later in life that gave her a whole different set of heartaches during his teen years), learned Spanish without any formal lessons because she had to survive and feed those kids, she sewed and resewed hand-me-down clothes because they were so poor they could not afford anything else, and she just kept going through various hardships because she was convinced God had called her to this task of supporting her evangelist/preacher husband through these early years.

    She just kept going. I don't know if she asked herself whether this was what she had envisioned her life being like. I don't even know if she struggled with trust and contentment like I do. But I do know without a doubt that when I was a teen she counseled me that just because she was 50, it didn't mean that she didn't have feelings that she struggled through still. (Not comforting to me at 13, but somehow comforting to me now as I still struggle through the same feelings at 30!) Oma just did what had to be done.

   As I'm contemplating doing what I don't particularly dream of doing (working while being a mom), or exactly where I want to be doing (staying in one place). I want to be more like my Oma... I want to find contentment where God has me, instead of dreaming of other lands and other circumstances. And just do the next thing.

Growing Pains

These are the lovely hot air balloons that accompanied me to work last week... Louisville has been celebrating in full swing, preparing for the Derby with all its might. These bright spots of color were just a precursor to the exciting day that is today.

And I see pictures of my friends on Facebook... one friend is having a Derby Party (she did invite me- I'm not planning on going) and another friend went with some other single girls (dressed-up and with large hats!) to The Oaks celebrations yesterday.

Fun, right?

Yet here I am at home. Almost content to stay here; resting or boringly (but oh so satisfyingly), baking while my husband continues to prepare for his sermon tomorrow.

Content that is, until I see these pictures, and remember that I used to be a fun person!! I used to love being in the thick of these things. I was the thickener of these things! I miss it. I miss the old me a little. I miss having energy to join in (oh the tiredness this baby gives already), the gusto to make the socializing happen whenever, and the almost crazy pace of being in the middle of many groups of friends. I miss my part-time work schedule too, where socializing could happen on Wednesday morning impromptu coffee dates.

How crazy this all this is. As I am so, so happy with my introverted husband who gazes at me adoringly even as my body begins to stretch and expand and do such weird things. I am so blessed to be in a church, that tiny as it is, has real people living life with one another and they (who are so different than me) are becoming a consistent set of friends and co-laborers. And I'm going to be a mother soon. (I had to stop and take a deep breath after typing that sentence!!!!)

So- along with the discomfort of my stretching abdominal wall- I'm feeling the discomfort of a changing life. Not that I haven't felt these growing pains in my friendships before... because I have. Moving overseas does that. And then getting married does it too. But mostly... I just need to acknowledge that life changes, and it's allowed to. It's going to change a WHOLE LOT MORE in a few months. So right now, I'm allowing myself to mourn a little bit. Then I'm going to move on and be thankful for where God has placed me now, and look to Him in these continuing challenges and changes.

Easter

Our little church body (of 15-20), put out a huge effort today. 2000 specially printed invites, multiple man-hours delivering door-to-door this last week, personal invitations to our neighbors, plans to have everyone pitch in to bring lots and lots of food to the pre-service breakfast... 

And though we joyously celebrated together, and enjoyed fellowship with one another like we usually do... There was some sadness in our hearts. Not one new face. No one new to share our joy and small little community with. 

These emotions are now paired with more emotions... And though I know I'm hormonally ripe for mood swings and feeling extra sensitive lately... Wow. 

A quick scroll through Facebook and I see everyone's pretty Easter pictures, adorable children in miniature ruffles and ties, large families gathered with traditions in place. My family is going through transition after transition... And I... Am contemplating a life without transition. Mom and Dad are leaving for FPO on Wednesday, so today was their last Sunday at church in AZ for a while. Tomorrow, Shing and I are hoping to look at a potential house that will solidly root us in this little, tiny church's community. 

Why would I rather have their current challenge?!?!?!? 

I have pieces of my heart scattered around this globe... Different families that I would love to be pictured with on this Easter day. My college church that had this amazing early service out on the lawn, with families and children often profusely sweating the closer it got to noon because there is no such thing as spring in AZ. My Spanish-German-English speaking family in Paraguay who I never physically spent an Easter with, but who collectively impact my traditions by the way that my grandparents have steadfastly clung to the cross. The nomads who embraced the stranger in their midst, who taught me what March madness was and show their greater passion for the resurrected Christ by living in countries so foreign to their all-American upbringings. 

And this Easter I want to join them... I want to be with my parents as they go into the wilds. I want to be with a cacophony of languages again. Oh my frail, deceptive heart. Were you not listening to the sermon this morning?  

Reality hits

I've been so tired... That the last two weeks I've almost felt that I'm making this whole pregnancy thing up... 

Thankfully today the doctor was available for an ultrasound and I got to see my little peanut!! 

Baby Mama

He greeted me at the door as I came home from work today with a kiss, and a, "how's my baby mama?"

He he!

I think I'm getting a bit more excited. You know, when I'm not fending off almost-anxious thoughts about how we're gonna work out the job/housing/life situation.

Anticlimactic?

I hope this little one doesn't read this in the future and think "my mom was nuts." Or feel unloved. Definitely not unloved!

But the official realization today was much more anti-climactic than I ever thought it could be.

Two weeks ago I was nauseous and icky feeling for about 4 days. I mean, super icky. Too bad this nasty feeling fell over our church's Chinese New Year celebrations... so all the well-meaning and loving women at my church were all guessing and concerned for my state of being (and/or state of pregnant). I quickly brushed their concern to the side, especially as I started feeling better. Until.... this week...I was noticing weird things like being more sensitive in areas, being STARVING at 10:30am even after a good breakfast, and .... well, things that should have been happening with my body, weren't...

My love noticed ... He hates surprises, so its just as well that he's so observant. Last night he told me we were getting strips, or sticks, or whatever. He wasn't sure what my medical training would prefer, but we were gonna get an answer. He he. 

So this morning while he was enthralled with a soccer game, I did it. And there is enough HCG in my system to make the test read immediately. Hah! But, being a good nurse, I had already set the timer...  Therefore, instead of nervously waiting, I proceeded to spend the required 2 min in theological debate over how I would tell him the news during half-time. Theological, you know, because usually women tell their men, "You're gonna be a dad!" and I was thinking to myself that it is more consistent with my beliefs to tell him "You're a dad!" Oh dear. 

I'm sorry, child, your mommy is nuts.

On the whole... a lot less suspense... and a lot more, hmmmm, how do I keep this kiddo a secret a bit longer without lying to the well-meaning church ladies?

Mi Preferida

Yesterday I took a little drive down to a Latin supermarket here in Louisville for some yuca. I can't even tell you what mixture of feelings overwhelmed me,even just stepping out of my car in the parking lot. The familiar juxtapositions of run-down, beat-up family cars next to the pimped out with spinners and hydraulics gangster cars... The women with tight jeans and large hoops in their ears... The simple working men next to the wanna-be-Ricky-Martin teens... And all around me the ebb and flow of those soft, musical syllables of Spanish.

 

All so temptingly familiar, and my heart almost cried out to start up a conversation with the family deciding between chicharrones or chips in the snack aisle. 

Yet, I felt so immensely alien. So white. Out of place. 

A total stranger in a well known place.

What was the name of that tasty sweet Mexican roll again? I freaked out- I haven't spoken Spanish since we left Paraguay! What if I'm losing it?  My tongue tripped over itself to answer the cashier's simple, "Debit or credit?" 

And why did I so acutely feel the stares of the people around me? So creeped out by the guy who opened the door for me and called out "Adios" as I left? 

I feel this all so acutely. Especially since it feels like I'm losing that part of me. The thing that makes me special. The thing that defines me. The part of me I've been teased for, the thing I've fought for, and that thing that shapes every introduction of me to you.

Oh... The grounded -no moving, no newcomer, no leaving- existence that I longed for as a teenager is the same life that I am loathe to accept now. I'm not from here. I don't want to be from here. You don't understand, I'm not from anywhere!

 But I've been here so long, I'm worried you can't tell. 

Break-ups and condos

A friend of mine recently went through a break-up... And though I was a bit relieved when I heard the news, it was still painful to talk to her this week because I feel so much for her. I don't want her to suffer like this. I think she is amazing, and the guy did not seem to think she was amazing.... So he was not the one for her, and I'm grateful the relationship did not continue. But ugh, her pain and singleness are heart wrenching. (even though overall she is handling all this quite well.) 

Anyway, her issues are making my current issues non-issues. 

Mostly....I still don't love work... And even though it's the best nursing fit I've found so far for me- my co-worker relationships are so challenging! The job is thankless, and so many undefined problems need to be solved with team-work, which isnt hapening. And I'm trying to think about the future, and I really really really just want to be a stay at home mom... And it's looking less and less possible. And I keep trying not to compare to other of my friends (loosing battle), and trying to not be threatened every time I see a nice condo or house for sale and Husband says, "well, that's a you working full-time house" :P Non-issues in comparison to the sadness faced by my single friends (I remember those days, and do not wanna go back!)... Non-issues compared to global suffering or even local fatherless and homeless...

"I believe... Help my unbelief!" 

proofreading

3. How does your wife feel about your commitment to pastoring?
She is totally on board. She comes from a family of pastors, church planters and missionaries so she understands the responsibilities and commitments ministry takes.

... sometimes when you are proofreading your husband's writing there is stuff that moves you to tears. Good tears. Thankfulness tears. And "wow. God is so good and knows exactly what He's doing even when I don't see it." tears. 

Plus, I like that he sees me this way. A lot. 

Though I did tell him that I probably don't totally understand the responsibilities or commitments or am remotely able to live up to the standards of an elder's wife. 

He just hugged me and told me I was ridiculous. 

He he.