Miss E Turns Four

It was as if I had tunnel vision: I stared at the clock reading 6:30 am, and that's all I could see. Crowds of nurses and doctors swirled around me as Mr. Kuda held my hand. Pushing wasn't coming easy, and as my gaze slipped from the clock to the doctor's face, I watched his lips quietly move as he spoke to the nurse: We need to get the baby out.

Labor had started nine hours earlier, and I had been pushing for at least two. The details are hazy and filled with oxygen masks, crazy yoga positions, and words of encouragement from practical strangers. They weren't strangers any more: we had survived this night together. Mr. Kuda was so excited he was actually doing a happy dance, filled with part wonder, part excitement, and part sheer exhaustion (and maybe a bit of terror?).

Within an hour, she was screaming. Her cry was sweet and soft, but as the color came to her cheeks, she was handed to me.

"She was holding onto her cord, that stinker. She was holding on for the ride."

If only we had known at the time: we would be the ones holding on for dear life as we became parents for the first time on that blustery Thanksgiving morning. In an instant, we were changed. We were parents.

Miss E, this has been a year of growing in so many ways. You have a heart of gold, your sense of humor surprises me daily, and your soul is wider and deeper than a good amount of adults I've encountered. You make mistakes on purpose, because you like to learn things for yourself. You are so smart, it's scary. You show me how to look at things of this world in different ways, and I love you for it.

Most importantly? Your heart is filled to the brim with a loving kindness so strong, it is awe inspiring. Last night at dinner, you didn't see my napkin in my lap, so you started to rip yours in half so I could have one. Last week, you made sure daddy was OK with me taking the last bite at dinner because you know he loves pasta so much. You don't skip any chance to love on your brother, and you tell me all the things you love about your friends all. the. time.

Miss E, you have rocked our world in more ways than one. You are filled with spice and we never know what we're going to get with you. And we wouldn't change it for anything in this sweet life God has given us.

Heavenly Father, bless this sweet girl of ours on this, her fourth birthday. Lord, we pray she grows courageous, strong, and wise. We pray she loves You always, and that we can show her what a life living for You looks like. Lord, protect her heart, guide her mind, and lead her to show kindness for others always. Amen.

xoxo, k.

**

Y'all, this week has hit me over the head with commitments and turkey. I'm spent! I'd LOVE to get out a post before Thanksgiving, but in case it just doesn't happen, I pray you have a Thanksgiving filled with people you love, good food, and the peace that the holidays should bring. Thirty days until Christmas!

xoxo, k.

Five Minute Friday: Notice

Every week, a whole heap of fabulous women get together and bravely write for Five Minute Friday. Today's prompt is...

Notice

Go.

The journey has been so long. Years and years, really. So I hadn't really noticed the differences. I hadn't noticed how You had changed me from the inside out, how my views have changed, how my world view is through an entirely new set of eyes. I hadn't noticed, until a stranger stopped me in Babies R Us when her words knocked me flat off my feet.

You are so joyful. What's your secret?

I know what my response should have been: Jesus! Jesus Christ! He is my secret! And He can be yours!

But I was so floored. So surprised by the joy of Christ oozing from my soul without me even realizing it, that I forgot to give Him credit.

I think of that woman all the time. Her broad smile, her warm gestures, her eyes seeking. She noticed me. She noticed Christ in my life, before I saw it for myself. I wish I could find her. Wrap her in my arms and tell her, You can have this, too! I mourn that day. I celebrate that day. I imagine the Day she and I will sit together, reminiscing on the old days, smiling knowing smiles, sharing our lives.

Stop.

Today? Notice the details. Notice those around you. Make connections.

Have a fantastic weekend!

xoxo, k.

Perspective: Giving Thanks {Three}

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It started with Mr. C. I really hate to put blame on any one person, especially my son, but it's true: His inability to sleep got the ball rolling.

Just over two years ago, eight weeks into his little life, one thing became quite apparent: He was not a good sleeper. The less he slept, the more I felt the walls of our two bedroom duplex crowd around us. Poor Miss E dealt with the consequences of waking up every two or so hours each night very well, better than any two year old should be asked. But by the end of 2012, it was very clear that our current living situation would not work.

Or at least, that's what I had convinced myself to believe.

Over the next eight months, I obsessed over "the new house." Whatever that meant. In my mind, the notion of the new house solved all of my problems. Somehow I had been lured into the sentiment that, because we would be able to put the kiddos in separate rooms, I would get more sleep. Somehow giving the kids their own rooms morphed into more sleep for me, which meant more happiness for me, which meant I would have more energy to be the best mom ever, which meant I would be the best wife ever, which meant...

Do you see where I went there?

The thing about thankfulness, is that it often has no merit unless given the proper perspective. My perspective was so warped by the time we moved to the rental house in August of 2013, I had forgotten the original source of it all. Deep down (somewhere), I knew the real reasons for moving: so we could have a simpler life, so I could continue to stay home with the kids, to offer them the life that we wanted them to have. But the appreciation for what we had already had all but slipped through my well-rested fingers, and I felt lost.

Loss for friendships, loss for familiarity, loss for my true identity.

Slowly, but surely, I climbed my way out of the hole that I had dug. What helped me?

Thankfulness. In the every day, boring minutiae of the wash, rinse, repeat life I had come to know.

I miss my friends.
God, thank you for those enduring friendships. Thank you for the joy I had each time we were together, and thank you for giving me courage to meet new friends and pursue deep relationships. Because of those women, I know what true friendship is.

I'm lonely.
Thank you for my husband, Lord. Thank you for the comic relief he gives me every day, and the companionship You know I need. Thank you for the joy he gives to our family day in and day out.

Our house isn't what I want it to be.
Thank you for warmth, and a roof over our heads. Thank you for all of your provisions as our house was built. Thank you for a yard our children can safely play in. 

I miss being around adults during the day, and being the only one who can fulfill their needs just wears. me. down.
Thank you for a dedicated husband and the wonderful job he has so that I can stay home during these young years in our children's lives. 

Thank you, God,  for being the only One who can fulfill our needs. And not the needs we think we ought to have, but the needs you know we must have. Like joy. And peace. And contentment.

And you see what I did there? Perspective.

Feeling discontent? Find thanks in it. Even if it's small. Even if it's hard. You'll be amazed at the outcome, and I promise you this: you will find joy even in the smallest of things.

xoxo, k.

Hooking up with some amazing inspiration on this Monday! Head on over!