Northeast Bucket List

When we were told that we had to move to New York, I guess you can say that we were less than thrilled. But we quickly decided that we were going to make the most of it and make it an adventure. We made a list of things that we knew we had to accomplish during our two year stay in the Northeast. I've decided to share the list with you. I think I'll update this post as we go, maybe add pictures and stories at each stop. If you have any ideas of things we must do, let me know! In no particular order, here's the list:

1. New York City
    A. Shopping!
    B. Eat at Serendipity
    C. Eat at Katz's Deli
    D. See a Broadway Show
    E. Visit Times Square
    F. See a Mets vs. Cardinals game
   G. Visit Central Park
   H. See the Statue of Liberty
    I. Visit the 9/11 Memorial

2. West Point

3. Boston, MA

4. Niagra Falls, Canada

5. Crayola Experience, PA

6. Long Island Beach

7. Washington, D.C.

8. Philadelphia, PA

9. Adirondack Park

10. Acadia National Park, ME

11. Delaware Gap National Recreation Area

*In the Spring of 2014, we took a two week trip to Harrisburg, PA. During that time we visited the State Capitol, Hershey, Lancaster, and Gettysburg. We also visited Washington, D.C. for a few hours after that trip. So that's why you won't find any of those places, except D.C., on this list.

I Just Can't

Forgive me, friends, for so many angst-filled posts. I'll try to bring something lighthearted to the blog soon. In the meantime, this is where I am.

It's 4:39 in the morning. I've been awake since about 2:00, woken up by a little voice in the night. "Momma.....Momma!" I went into the boys' room to find Isaac sitting up on the end of his bed. He kept saying, "Hold you," though it sounds more like "ho-hu." I told him it was still night night time and asked him if he wanted some water. He nodded. I grabbed a cup of water, gave him a drink, tucked him back in, and kissed his forehead. Then I headed back to bed.

That's when I noticed a new text message on my phone. A message from one of my closest friends sharing some difficult news. That's all I can say about that right now. I spent the next couple of hours in prayer and drifting in and out of sleep.

I've been looking back at life over the past several months, maybe even the past couple of years. I don't know if it's adulthood, if the brokenness of the world really is just getting worse, or both. Sometimes, while I know for certain that God is sovereign and is still on His throne, it is so difficult to make sense of His plans.

Lately, I can't understand it when things in life seem to make sense and fit so perfectly until those plans are changed and life is no longer as simple. Sometimes, I can't wrap my mind around a young mother being taken too soon by cancer. Other times, I can't understand brothers and sisters across the globe being imprisoned and murdered by extremists. I have a hard time accepting news of another broken family. It is difficult for me to fathom the loss of a little one and how any good could ever come from that. It just doesn't make sense to me when someone longs to be a parent and the Lord doesn't provide the way that we feel He should. I can't begin to find the logic in the image of a two-year-old boy washed up on shore, the story of another hate-filled shooting, or news of another precious one that has not been valued as the image-bearer of the Creator that they are. My heart is breaking this morning.

So I pray. I journal. I blog. I worship. I try to find some rest. I am reminded of words that were shared at a recent church retreat:

I cry aloud to God,

aloud to God, and he will hear me. 

In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; 

in the night my hand is stretched out

without wearying;

my soul refuses to be comforted.

When I remember God, I moan;

when I meditate, my spirit faints.

You hold my eyelids open;

I am so troubled that I cannot speak.

I consider the days of old,

the years long ago.

I said, "Let me remember my song in 

the night;

let me meditate in my heart."

Then my spirit made a diligent search:

"Will the Lord spurn forever,

and never again be favorable?

Has his steadfast love forever ceased?

Are his promises at an end for all 

time?

Has God forgotten to be gracious?

Has he in anger shut up his

compassion?"

Then I said, "I will appeal to this,

to the years of the right hand of the 

Most High."

I will remember the deeds of the Lord;

yes, I will remember your wonders of

old.

I will ponder all your work,

and meditate on your mighty deeds.

Your way, O God, is holy.

What god is great like our God?

You are the God who works wonders;

you have made known your might

among the peoples.

You with your arm redeemed your 

people,

the children of Jacob and Joseph.

When waters saw you, O God,

when the waters saw you, they were

afraid;

indeed the deep trembled.

The clouds poured out water;

the skies gave forth thunder;

your arrows flashed on every side.

The crash of your thunder was in the 

whirlwind;

your lightnings lighted up the world;

the earth trembled and shook.

Your way was through the sea,

your path through the great waters;

yet your footprints were unseen.

You led your people like a flock 

by the hand of Moses and Aaron.

Psalm 77   

When life just doesn't make sense, all I have to do is look back over my life, over the course of history, and through the pages of Scripture to see God's unending faithfulness. God will make all of this right. He will get the glory. He already won when Jesus died on the cross and conquered death. That is the hope I cling to. "The joy of the Lord is my strength." (Nehemiah 8:10)

Please, please come quickly, Lord Jesus. 

I Wanted An Abortion

I was 22-years-old, single, broke, and feeling desperately alone. I was terrified. 

I was pregnant. 

It was my last semester of college. I was student teaching at the time, so I had no income. I could not believe that I had gotten pregnant. The few people that knew about it were pretty surprised, too. The only people that knew about my pregnancy at that time were the ones in my life that I knew loved me enough to be honest without being judgemental, empathize with me without selfishness, and lovingly sit by my side while I tried to work out all of my emotions and options.

I cried almost daily and I begged God for a miscarriage. I slept very little, but wanted to sleep constantly. As the weeks passed and my pregnancy became more obvious, the need to tell people grew. That was the hardest part, I think. The imminent shame, judgement, and pain (both felt and caused) was too much to bear. I didn't want to have to go through that. I couldn't do it.

I regularly cried and talked to one of my closest friends, who happens to be pro-choice and who shall remain unnamed, about how I felt. One day after student teaching, I knew the time to tell everyone was near. While sprawled across her bed, I cried like I hadn't cried before. While flailing my hands wildly in front of my abdomen, I said to her, "I don't want this! I want it out of me! I need it out of me right now. I seriously want it gone. I can't do this any longer." I meant every word. I had already called Planned Parenthood to inquire about the cost of an abortion. My friend listened well. But she knows me well, too. She responded, "If I knew that you would wake up tomorrow or the next day and be okay with that decision, I would take you there right now and help you." But she knew my convictions. Regardless of her convictions, she knew where I stood. Instead of giving in to my emotions that week, she just let me cry.

As the weeks went on and I began to share the news with people, my fears did come to pass. "So now we know how you really are." "You're so judgemental to believe that sex outside of marriage is wrong." "You used to be such a good girl." The words cut like a hot knife through my core. I knew what I believed to be right and wrong. I had made a mistake...but I was still the same person with the same beliefs. Those that pointed fingers and called me judgemental spat the most hurtful, judgemental words at me. Maybe they truly felt that this was fair, given my worldview.

But in the end, with the unwavering support of those closest to me, with strength that can only be explained as coming from the Holy Spirit, and most importantly with the unconditional love of the Father, I made it through. After months of considering whether I should parent or place my child for adoption with a loving family, I chose to be a momma.

I write all of this to say that I get it. While I can't begin to personally understand every single person's experience, I can say that I fully get why one may choose abortion. For any number of reasons and from any number of backgrounds, abortion can seem like the right option. I personally know people that have chosen to end their pregnancies. This piece is not meant to be a judgement against anyone for making that choice. God offers unconditional love, forgiveness, and redemption. It's yours for the taking.

But I do want to try to encourage those faced with an unplanned pregnancy. Before you choose to end the pregnancy, and so the precious the life growing inside of you, please just take a minute. Try to consider a different perspective. You can get through the pregnancy and you can bring your child into the world. Ignore the lies and the judgemental glances. Find someone that you can trust; someone that will consider the best interests of both you and your little one. You have options and you have more strength inside you than you can fathom.

Seeking Satisfaction

"But I still haven't found what I'm looking for." -U2

"Be grateful for what you have." "Quit wanting more. It won't make you happy." "Look around at all of the good things you have." "You begged us for this toy and now you don't even play with it." These are phrases that Jonathan and I feel like we've been saying to Malachi a lot lately. If you've read any of my posts in the past, you may remember one called If Momma Ain't Happy. On that post, I talked about how our sin struggles as parents are often reflected in our children. This post is just more of the same.

When Jonathan and I got married, I was thrilled to know that his career would move our family every few years. I had wanted to move away for several years, but never had the opportunity. Something else was always more important. I love the prospect of seeing new locations, meeting new people, and experiencing things we wouldn't otherwise have the chance to experience.

Our first move was to Evansville, Indiana. Three hours from my hometown, it felt just right. We were in a new place and meeting new people, to be sure, but I was able to travel home whenever I felt the need. There was an adjustment period; a time of trying to figure out how we fit in at our church and in the town in general. But it wasn't long before Evansville felt like home to us.

However, we always knew that our time there was not meant to be permanent. After we had been living in Evansville for almost exactly one year, we received word that we were to be transferred to New York where Jonathan would work on the new Tappan Zee Bridge. Anxiety, happiness, excitement, fear, sadness were all of the emotions that we felt during and immediately after our move.

We've been living in New York for four months now. Like Evansville, we know that our time here is not permanent. We expect to be here for two to three years. And I'm not going to lie. It's been difficult. For the first time in our lives, we can't just travel home (Denver, St. Louis, Evansville) whenever we want. The distance won't allow it. There are so many people, yet it is difficult to find a good friend. The cost of living is very high. For all of these reasons and more, it can be difficult to remember to value the experience of being here. There is so much to experience in this area of the country and we have lots of plans. We try to remind ourselves to get as much as we can out of our time in New York, but our appreciation gets clouded by our discontentment. I find myself daydreaming of what-ifs more often than I'd like to admit.

Discontentment, anxiety, and worry can be symptoms of a lack of faith in God's goodness. Not only do we believe that God places us where we are for His purposes, but God actually has given us everything we've ever wanted in placing us here. While we have no idea what the next five to ten years will look like for us, one thing is certain: God is still on the throne. I want my children to see that Jesus is enough for me. I want to be a witness of the goodness of God to my family. I want my joy and contentment to display my faith in the sovereignty of the Creator. I want my children to learn to be content through my actions, not my lecturing. That's my prayer right now.

Freeset

Hey everyone! Thanks for stopping by. I need just a few minutes of your time and a bit of your feedback. I've thought off an on for some time about starting a home-based business. I'd really like to help Jonathan pay down my student loans and maybe have a bit of extra money to use for fun, service, or savings. I've struggled personally with the idea of working in a multi-level marketing business. Creativity for sale (photography, cake decorating, sewing) isn't really my thing. I've thought about a number of different avenues to accomplish a home-based business, but haven't really found a company or a business idea that I can fully get behind....until now.

Someone at my church was selling Freeset bags as a fundraiser for a mission trip last week. At first sight, I thought the bags were super cute, trendy, and practical. I wanted one and I wanted to buy one for every person in my life. Jonathan drew the line at three. As I looked at the bags in more detail, I realized that they were very well made and durable. Then I read the tag and spoke to the salesperson. The mission and work behind the bag blew me away. The products are made by women in Kolkata, India that have chosen to leave the sex trade industry. In addition to paying them for their work, the company supports the women on many different levels including teaching them how to read and write, how to budget, and how to take care of themselves.

After speaking with the company, I could have the opportunity to purchase items at wholesale value and then sell them in any way I choose (via blog, Facebook, craft fairs, Etsy, etc.). In this way, I am supporting a company with an incredible mission while also supporting my family. However I'm not sure that it would work. Obviously I'd have to pay a large amount of money up front and, as with any business venture, it's a risk.

This is where YOU come in. I need your honest feedback about this idea. First, check out the company for yourself at freesetglobal.com. Take a look around at the company information and at the products offered. Then, come back here and you'll find a poll on the upper right side of the page. Please select all of the answer options that apply to you. If you'd like to give me more feedback, please feel free to comment below, comment on my Facebook post, send me a Facebook PM or email me at boysbroomsandbread@gmail.com. Regardless of how you feel about my business idea, head on over to Freeset's facebook page and give them a big fat LIKE! I appreciate any help that you can provide!

UPDATE

After much feedback, I have decided against starting a home-based business at this time. Thank you so much for your input! 

I Love My Children Differently

It's been a long time since I've written. Over a year it seems. I've thought about picking up the keyboard time and time again, with words in my head begging to come out, only to be reminded of the countless other things that need to be done first. The list, I'm sure you know, is never-ending. Nevertheless, I do enjoy writing. So even if it is sporadically, write I shall.

I decided that there could be nothing more appropriate to be shared today, Mother's Day 2015, than the days that my children were born. I'll spare you the bloody details of painful labor, epidural placements, and a doctor that should take a patient seriously when she says, "Ouch, that hurts!" Allow me to skip straight to the good parts: The moments my children entered the world.

October 29th, 2006, seventeen minutes after midnight to be exact. Surrounded by three of my best girlfriends, Laura, Chrissi, and Cherie, after about nineteen and a half hours of labor, Malachi made his grand entrance with screams that I'm sure were heard throughout the hospital. The doctor placed him on my stomach and I was frozen. My friends were laughing and crying at the same time. I think I remember giggling a little. I barely reached my shaky hand to his goo-covered body, terrified to touch him for a split second before he was whisked across the room to be assessed, cleaned, and wrapped. I laid my head back in relief as the doctor cleaned me up. One of the girls stayed by my side while the other two stood by Malachi and took pictures. Eventually, a nurse brought Malachi to me swaddled as snug as could be. My legs were still in stirrups and I was feeling quite awkward, so I asked the nurse to hand Malachi to Laura instead of me. I just wanted to get cleaned up and comfortable before snuggling my new bundle. Eventually, the doctor finished up. I asked the girls to hand Malachi to me and to leave us alone for about ten minutes or so. I looked at my baby's little face and said, "It's just us kid. You and me against the world. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I promise that I'm going to be the best mom that I can." As I went on to nurse my boy for the first time, I still stared at him in shock, unable to believe that this little bitty person belonged to me. The weight of the situation was too heavy to bear. Eventually, a nurse came in and told me that it was time for Malachi to go to the nursery and that another nurse would be by to take me to my new room. Later, on my way to my room, the nurse wheeled me past the nursery window and said, "Take a look at your baby." I responded, "Which one is he?" That is still funny to me. I had a son, but I had no idea who he was. I would spend the next several years of my life getting to know him. As you know, our story went on to have happy endings--and new beginnings.

With that, we fast forward about six and half years. June 23, 2013. I went to a different hospital for Isaac's birth and had a much better experience. Email me if you want recommendations. This time, I had my amazing husband by my side, as well as his wonderful mother, and my dear best friend, Sarah. I want to share a little more detail leading up to Isaac's birth just because I feel it's worth sharing. I had studied and prepared for months in hopes of a natural birth. I even purchased an inflatable labor tub from the hospital. About five hours in, I couldn't handle the pain any longer. "Yes you can," cheered Jonathan. "No I can't," I protested. "Yes you can!" he repeated. "Quit arguing with me. It doesn't help!" I barked. In came the anesthesiologist. I wanted to hug the man--or woman--I don't really remember. I just remember I was so glad that they were there. About thirty minutes after the pain medicine took effect, Isaac was born. 10:27 am. For some reason--maybe experience, maybe support--my reaction to this boy's birth was much different than with Malachi's. I grabbed him with both hands as quickly as I could, completely ignorant of the blood and goo, and snuggled him to me. I was crying and laughing and crying more. I remember saying, "Hey little guy! I'm so glad you're here. What a rough morning, huh?" Isaac just felt so familiar and comfortable to me. Motherhood didn't feel so scary anymore.

Early parenting of my boys continues to be as different as their birth experiences. Their different personalities, likes and dislikes, and strengths and weaknesses are what makes parenting these two kids an adventure. When Malachi was born, I loved him more than I ever knew was possible. Then Isaac came along and my capacity for love increased. I'm certain that, should the Lord see fit to gift us with more children, my love will grow still. While I love them equally, I love them differently--because they're different people. I love Malachi with snuggles, hugs, and kisses while I love Isaac with tickles, tackles, and lots of loud laughter. While Malachi begs to not be tickled, Isaac cannot sit still long enough to be snuggled. Regardless of how I show them love, my boys are loved and loved fiercely.