2 Shades of Pink Story: Part 4

The drive home from the airport was a quiet one. What else was there to say? Anthony was gone. It was difficult to say that he went home. Because we were his home. At least that was the truth in our hearts.

I have to tell you that the pain of this hit hardest in the silence of the house. Everything was neat. Everything where it should be. No baby giggles. No hunger or sleepy cries. Just the deafening, loud silence.

We had a going away party for Anthony the weekend before he left. One of my friends left us a little bag with packs of tissues and gourmet cookies. I got that bag and put it to good use. Brandon took off the whole day and wonders even now why he did not take off the day before to be with Anthony instead of the day he left only to be confronted by his absence. But I know he did it for me too. It would have been so hard to be there all alone.

The one thing I did not share with you is how God prepared me so much to let him go. The strength, the peace, the trust was so supernatural. I wish I had more words to convey this knowing that was there. Pain and grief, of course. But a knowing that my God had not left us, that he was still working and still coordinating our journey.

I do not remember much of that day except the silence. It was a Wednesday he left and on Friday something surprising happened. We initially were going to take a break from fostering but we found ourselves ready for another child. Amazing. And we actually got a call and the sweetest but most frightened little boy came to our home.

Oh how he broke our hearts. He had been left alone by his mother and she unwisely bragged at a bar one night bar about leaving him at home. The bartender, God bless this person, called the police who found this precious child on a dirty mattress, among glass bottles, caps, and other debris. When he arrived in our home he had bug bites covering his body and smelled strongly of urine. I did not care while hugging and kissing this child. He was only 17 months old! We had to give him two baths just to remove the smell from his hair. And he would cry in the crib with this whimpering cry that would soften the hardest of hearts.

By the end of the weekend he was smiling, laughing, and playing ball. Sadly, on Monday we let him go because it was a weekend placement. I was also traveling alone to see family up north and surprise a friend for her birthday. They called us that Monday to ask us to keep him long term and we would have loved to...so much...if I was not leaving for 10 days. Obviously, they needed to find a home for him. My sweet husband still thinks about him to this day.

You may wonder why I am telling you this. But you will understand by the end. I am giving you significant events and time lines to support the final chapter of this miraculous journey. A lot of you may already know this story but I am being very specific here in these posts. Because my testimony would take hours if I told it exactly how it all played out. And these details matter oh so much.

So I come back from visiting family. It is just us for awhile and I even struggle with the feelings of freedom I am experiencing. Along with guilt. Like I am so glad I can go sit and drink coffee somewhere. Go for a bike ride alone. Walk the dog. Whatever. But if I could choose it would be to have Anthony back. Even as we continued praying for the time when the next child came to our home, we began asking God for specifics. Two actually.

One was to have a small infant.

The other was to be able to adopt the next child who came into our home.

I know. Tall order, right? When we took the MAPP class to be licensed as foster parents, I distinctly remember a day where they said small infants were a rarity and even more rare was to end up adopting that child. You know what else was rare? A girl. Statistically speaking, more boys than girls are fostered.

Are the details becoming more fascinating as you learn them since the very end is so obvious?

But I remember this day so clearly because when the instructor said this I instantly half prayed and half thought: God you are bigger than statistics and you can do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine. I believe now that on a subconscious level I was there to adopt but I really did not know this at the time.

So then we get the call. Around mid August. There is a premature infant in the NICU at All Children's Hospital who needs a foster home. He is this tiny little baby, 6 weeks old. The first thing we are asked is if we are willing to adopt since his parents rights were about to be terminated.

What? OF COURSE WE ARE WILLING TO ADOPT!!!! This was such an answer to prayer that I was almost knocked off my feet! Wow! Wow! Wow! We were so excited!

The only problem was that he had to stay in the hospital until he would stop having episodes where he would stop breathing while eating. He was unable to coordinate sucking and swallowing simultaneously. There was talk that he would need to go to a medical foster home if these episodes continued. He needed to go 5 days without an episode before being released into regular care.

So we waited two weeks.

In the meantime, our parents sent care packages of little boy clothes. I went shopping for all the stuff I would need for an itty, bitty baby. How exciting that I had time to do this before he arrived. And I knew, I just knew God was healing this little boy so he could come home to us.

We get a call on Wednesday August 30th that he had been fine for 3 days and to come see him in the hospital in order to bond and know how to care for him.

That night we saw him in the NICU. I will call him J. He was so small and so sweet. We got to hold him, change him, feed him, love on him. We bonded and our hearts were his.

The next day, the hospital calls. J had another episode and it is being determined that J will go to a medical foster home.

Devastated. God, why? It was so hard. We actually held this little boy in our arms. Why? My husband was ready to throw in the towel with fostering. He was crushed. And this is what the Lord did for me....He renewed my strength.

I looked at my husband and said that we HAD to believe God's purpose in this. We had to remember that God has never, ever let us down. Ever. And we are to forget not ALL of his benefits. This was one of them. We had to believe. For whatever the reason.

So we had to let J go. And welcome back grief.

But wait...what was this? Well blessed be. We had hope.

Then on Friday we get another call from placement...

"Hi. We have another child who needs care. We have a 3 week little girl, born 8 weeks premature who is still in the NICU at All Children's. Are you interested?"

But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you. Psalm 39:7

"YES! Of course we are interested!"
"Great. We can bring her tonight. The Child Protection Investigator will be bringing her."

"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and fault less is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."
James 1:27

"Thank you so much for calling." I hang up. A little girl is coming. Wow. Just days after being told J would not be. Only God's goodness can explain it.

Against all hope, Abraham in hope, believed...Romans 4:18

Our only thoughts were the excitement of bringing this precious child into our home. To love her and care for her and give her everything she needed. God is always faithful, always working, never passive, intimately mindful of every person's needs. Every single one. Faith is where we are able to see God's might and power...

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.
Hebrews 11:1

And even when we are faithless, His power is still there...

"If we are faithless, he will remain faithful..." 2 Timothy 2:13

On September 1, 2006 we welcomed a little baby girl into our home, our hearts...

This was in the first few minutes upon meeting her. What a tiny baby. A little over 5 lbs.

This is me and sweet baby girl.

Hubby holding this precious bundle.

This is her now...Her name is Cati.

Now the story gets goooooood...

2 Shades of Pink Story: Part 3

Sit back because those of you who wanted to just keep reading and reading...this one is a little long.

So on that life changing Wednesday I decided to watch the news.

I am not a news watcher. Probably due to the fact that the house I grew up in had CNN and later, Fox News on 24 hours a day. If we were in a car, then it was AM talk radio. So as an adult, I must say that the news was a way for me to catch up on the weather and maybe to see what time it was. So the fact that I was watching the news was completely divine intervention.

At that point in my life I was a Resume Writer and Interview Coach working out of my home office. Now if I had not been working from home I would have missed this segment. I think it started around 4 in the afternoon. So as I popped on the news for a reason only a supreme God would know, I saw the segment of Wednesdays Child where a child up for adoption was featured. This little girl with huge eyes and long brown hair was the most precious thing I had ever seen. The news anchor was at a playground talking to this little girl who actually asked Marty Matthews (the anchor) to be her Mommy and take her home. Marty hugged her and you could tell she was trying to remain professional. What a pure cry from that little innocent heart! And I sat there mesmerized. Compassion like I have never known invaded my entire being. I saw with new eyes, (God's eyes, I think) a child who needed parents to love her.

And who better to fill that need then a couple who want a child to fill their hearts?

I literally wanted to adopt this little girl. Right then and there. I get on the website to check this all out and I am stunned to see something called The Heart Gallery where there are so many children needing a loving home. I literally had no idea. None. I read on about the need for foster parents right in our county and how there are more children needing to be fostered and adopted then homes to put them in. This was so devastating to me.

I crank out an impulsive but heart felt email to my husband. I tell him that while seeing this news segment I have this deep and terrifying feeling that God is calling us to become foster parents. Of course, I ask him to pray with me about this to know whether I am reacting to emotion of if this really was God moving us. His reaction was not surprising.

Where in the world did this come from?

Um, God. Duuuuhhh.

But of course he is not a mind reader and he knows me. Thank you, Lord. And listens and takes it all in agreeing to pray about this. I am so excited because the knowing just continues to grow. By the end of that week, after praying together and on our own, hubby comes back to me and tells me he is as excited as I am about becoming foster parents.

HALLELUJAH!!!!!!

This is now around September of 2005. I send an email to get additional information and I find out about an orientation meeting being held at the Safe Children Coalition (now Eckerd Youth Alternatives) So we go. And an evil presence decided to carpool with us to the meeting. A presences who's intent is to steal, kill and destroy.

Oh, you should have seen me. This informational meeting is almost a means to chase those who are merely curious for the hills. They tell you everything in worse case scenario. How these kids come into foster care. What it might be like once they are in your home. How the primary goal is reunification with parents. That if you are looking for an infant to eventually adopt those situations are incredibly rare. And on and on and on. And if you were looking at me, I looked like a rebellious teen, slumped in my chair, my arms crossed and a snarling scowl on my face.

I look at hubby and say, "I am not sure I want to do this." But I find myself filling out paperwork as if I am totally ready to do this. But I had no conscious idea that I was terrified. Out of my mind scared.

None of these thoughts actually came to my mind in clear sentences but rather I detected jumbled emotions and scattered impressions of thoughts. Like, how could I bond with a child only to lose him or her? Could I go through the pain of infertility only to feel teased with loving a child and losing that child too? Why go through this torment? Am I even worthy to do this? Am I being selfish and self serving? Is this actually for me or for a child? What will they think of me if I admit I only want Caucasian children since there may be the off chance we would adopt him or her? Will our family support us? Would they love a child in our home?

On and on I anguish. For the next few months. But then the calm after the storm finally arrived. By December we were enrolled in a MAPP class, one of many requirements of becoming a licensed foster parent. By January of 2006, we were in the midst of having a home health inspection, filling out paperwork an inch thick, conducting two home studies, getting references filled out and mailed, redoing our guest room to be ready for a child between and ages of 0-2 and preparing our hearts for the child God would bring. Any child, I might add.

Often, we would go into the room to pray for the child who would come to us. And on March 27, 2006, we received the call that we had become Licensed Foster Parents.

That evening, little 6 month old Anthony came into our world.

These pictures were literally taken within 10 minutes of his arrival into our home. We carried him and his little bag into the house, grabbed the camera and started clicking. It was such an anticipated moment that we wanted to capture it forever.

How could you not just want to nibble on those chubby little cheeks? Was he not the most precious thing in the world? Oh that sweet little boy. My heart is beating faster at the love I still carry in my heart for him.

OK. Now I am crying right at this very moment. I am so shocked by this response even as I look at the blurry letters appearing on the screen. Looking at his face is so bittersweet that I have just stopped to ask God to help me breathe. This little boy swiftly entered our hearts within the first seconds upon laying eyes upon him. And every fear I had about fostering disappeared like a vapor upon the solid realization that this boy deserved nothing less than every ounce of love we could give him.

And how we loved him.

There are too many details to share and I also want to protect the confidentiality surrounding his particular case. But the summary of this was that within one month of his stay, we received the devastating news that his birth mother had been found dead in an elevator after overdosing at the age of 32. I almost fell to the floor upon hearing this news. He had no other relatives who wanted him and though they could not promise anything there was a chance we could have him long term and indefinitely.

Wow. As first time foster parents we were convinced that through such awful circumstances, this little boy would be given a chance at life and we would be there to give him a home and all the love we could give.

But what actually happened was the maternal grandfather and wife had wanted him all along. We just never heard that. They live in the Northwest and had already adopted her first 2 children for the last 10 years and wanted Anthony and his older brother who was also currently in care. And that is what happened.

On July 19, 2006, we experienced heartbreak and pain like no other I have ever experienced. Ever. At 4 am we drove him to the airport to say good be to him. The night before I was rocking him to sleep, praying, crying, asking God for strength. Because as he peacefully slept in my arms I knew I would never hold him like this again, I would never put him to bed or sing him worship songs to sleep. I held him for over 30 minutes. Just swaying back and forth in the dark room, grieving that this child I wanted for my own was indeed not the child God planned for us.

At the airport we were a mess.

The picture is blurry but this is me getting Anthony out of his car seat at the airport. I was not holding it together well.

Anthony with Daddy Bamm. (I was Mommy Jess)

I was a little better here waiting for the Case Manager to check in.

This may sound so funny but when we had to say goodbye at Security I had one hope. I had told this to Brandon the night before. I said, "I pray as he leaves he does not look back." I would never be able to live with that being the last moment with him in my mind's eye. He was going to live with his 3 half brothers and Grandparents. He was going to be loved. And he was moving forward. It was symbolic for me. When it came time to say goodbye, we hugged him, kissed him and told him we loved him, the pain was more than I could ever have known. We were sobbing so loud. A chunk of my heart had been gauged out. Though there would be healing, I felt like my heart would never be whole again.

As the case manager pushed his stroller away, Anthony looked straight ahead as he got ready to go home. Not once did he look back. Oh how God honored that prayer and a peace came over me. I knew we were going to make it.

Octopus or Hot Dog?

Both! This picture just makes me laugh out loud. This is the dinner I fed Cati last night. I mean look at it. It is a hot dog cut to look like an octopus on top of a bed of leftover buttered noodles, green beans and goldfish crackers. Got the idea from a book on kid's meals from the library. Their picture is so much better and not made with leftovers from the fridge.

Mmmmmm mm.

But before I go on about this hot dog, I must make it abundantly clear that I am totally unable to write my Two Shades of Pink Story on a daily basis. The heart can only take so much. I need to break it up with crafts, tips, or funny things my kids do. And seriously, what better way to follow up a serious post then to have this octopus hot dog be the first thing you see? You have to admit it made you smile or laugh out loud. Or the fact I thought Cati's dinner was a photo op and blog worthy.

Cati had me in stitches while eating this thing. I am in the kitchen washing dishes and I hear her strike up a dialogue with Mr. Octopus. I don't hear his side but from what she is saying they are so talking to each other.

"Mr. Octopus! You are just so cuuuuuuuuute! There's your eyes and your smiiiiiiiiile!"

"Mommy, look at Mr. Octopus! Isn't he so cute?"

"Yes, Mr. Octopus these are goldfish crackers and they are yummy!"

"Hey, where's Mr. Octopus' face? Where did it go?"

"Where did it gooooooooo? Oh, Mr. Octopus. I so sorry."

"Oh, okaaaaaaay Mr. Octopus. I'll eat you." Bite. Gulp. Swallow.

Okidokes. Clearly Mr. Octopus was on the ledge and looking for a way to end it all. Sadly, Cati unknowingly assisted in his suicidal demise by succumbing to his incessant pleading to eat him. The remains were found with a partial head intact and 7 legs missing.

Green beans survived the massacre.

2 Shades of Pink Story: Part 2

So where were we?

Ah. I find out I have PCOS. I also begin seeing an Infertility Specialist who wants me on a drug called Metformin which is supposed to help with weight loss and help jump start the ovulation process.

And so the infertility dance begins.

During this initial quest, I am still hopeful. I take the Chlomid and Metformin for about 6 months but nothing really changed to indicate ovulation. When I was about to start doing the dreaded (and self administered) shots in the stomach, I was ready to take a break.

Then a year goes by. My cycles return on their own but they were crazy. Some were every 20 days. Others were every 52 days. But I felt like it was progress because I had not had a cycle in so long. I still went up and down with my weight. The break was a time for me to not even deal with infertility but now I felt like a barren woman, not worthy of bearing a child and my marriage took a major hit.

My husband and I struggled the first few years of our marriage after a short courtship and many financial hardships. Our intimacy became almost nonexistent and I even entertained the ugly, D word. Hopelessness and despair became close friends. Then my old, best friend and I got reacquainted.

Anger.

I needed to someone to blame. Not God, of course. If I blame Him he will snatch my uterus right out of me when I am not looking. Can't make the Creator of human life mad. Not my husband. Can't blame a man you are seldom intimate with. So who is to blame? Where can I direct my anger at the unjustness of it all?

Mothers. All of em.' Pregnant women, grandmothers, unwed teen girls, moms who complain about being moms, moms who are pregnant and don't want a particular gender. The wrath of Jessica was coming their way. I was justified by the cry of an empty womb and by golly those women had better tread lightly in my presence. If you were pregnant, you better suck that belly in or apologize profusely for carrying your 8 month fetus in my face. If you complained about your whiny child, my brain would scream at them..."At least you have a child albeit a whiny one!" What did I have? Two dogs, a cat, and marriage on the rocks.

Bitter was an understatement to describe how I felt. Baby showers were like torture devices wrapped in powder smelling packages. I was practically writhing in pain at all the seasoned mothers and their precious nuggets of wisdom. The looks of pity when asked if I have children and my answer of no with a cheerful "We're trying!" added in for good measure.

Ugh. And it always felt like a baby boom was upon our church during the darkest and lowest times. Everyone was pregnant! My favorite was when I would get the pregnancy announcements in batches of threes and fours. Or shower invitations on consecutive weekends.

I think I have described the pain adequately. This daily pain of wanting to be a mother down to every cell in my body crying out, "WHEN IS IT GOING TO BE MY TURN?"

Now understand that adoption was not even on my radar. To be honest, it felt second rate to take in a child that was someone else's. I was actually appalled at the idea. Because that was not the plan. I was going to be married at 24, pregnant by 25 and on to my third child by 30.

That. Was. The. PLAN. But I was 29.

And how could I love a child that was not my flesh and blood? How could we even be a real family?

When the journey brought me down this low path of bitterness and jealousy, I began believing I was literally barren. During this time, I was in a bible study and one week we were studying the verse in Isaiah 54 that says "Sing, O barren woman, you who never bore a child..." and on this day as we read this verse, I begin making this sputtering, moaning sound before erupting into tears. Of course, the study leader does what I despise...stops the study in its tracks to focus on me. Every other woman in the room (with all wonderful intentions) touch my arm, leg, or grabbed tissues, and got ready for me to spill my heart. Then, I hear myself cry out, "I CAN'T HAVE CHILDREN!" and lose myself in desperate sobbing. As I sit here and remember this I am wincing because all I think now is "Geesh, what a drama queen. Where did I get that from? No doctor had ever even told me that."

But I believed it with everything in me.

The leader begins a beautiful dissertation on how adoption is a viable and wonderful way to be a parent. I think I actually heard violins. I then say out loud that adoption is not what I want. I want my own children who look like me and my husband. I want his sweet spirit or my humor in my child. His eyes, my hair color. And the leader says that maybe an adopted child won't look like you but they can have your values and even your mannerisms...and in the same breath says...wait for it..."Although none of my children could ever try and claim not to be mine because they look exactly like me."

I nearly lost my religion.

How she thought this was inspiring or encouraging is beyond me. Of course, as you read this you know I adopted Cati. My oldest. My heart in the flesh. Who is exactly like me and so gets me. So Bible lady with carbon copy kids meant well. And she was actually right. But I think of the bible verse in Proverbs 25:20 where it says,

"Like one who takes away a garment on a cold day, or like vinegar poured on soda, is one who sings songs to a heavy heart."

Needless to say, I never returned to that bible study. But for the next several months I just kind of coasted along, being a wife, being a Christian, and figuring out where God wanted us to go next. Because becoming pregnant was starting to become a far reaching dream that I would never realize.

Until one Wednesday, as I watched Channel 10 news with a segment called Wednesday's Child. A day that would begin a journey that would change our lives...

Two Tips Tuesday

Tip #1 Make Your Own Craft Box

Recently, I made this craft box for a good friend of mine who has two little girls like I do! She had read the post about making an easy flower mobile and said she needed to make a craft box and then we could swap ours to see how many things we could make out of them. I thought this was a great opportunity to give her one and shop as if it were my own. What fun I had stocking this girly pink and brown storage box. It just folds flat when not in use and I loved the idea of how much room it has. I made a cute label for the front, went to the dollar store (I know. They need to pay me for how much I talk about that place) and had a glorious, retail adventure. All while answering Cati's incessant questions of, "Mommy, what's this? Mommy can I have this?"

So cute, right? I want one. My box is a plastic container. Grrrr...

Here's the inside. This is what I bought since you can't see everything...

Foam bookmarks

Foam ABC letter stickers

Foam Sheets

Foam Beads

Foam Photo Album Craft

Wooden Butterfly Craft

Pastel Pom Poms

Stickers

Colored Construction Paper

Pretty Printer Paper

Craft Scissors (for Mommy)

Kid's Scissors

Glue Sticks

Markers

White Paint

Paint Brushes

If they had them, I would have added pipe cleaners, ribbon, etc. So much more you can put in there and it is a great starter box. I was kind of excited that it was such a fun gift! Now I want it!

Tip #2 Convenient Paint Storage

I don't remember where I read this in a magazine, but a mom had given a great tip of putting paints into a pill box. It was a really great way to store the paints too because you can close it up when you are done and still reuse the leftover paint after you are finished. I thought this was so brilliant and had to pass it along here. The dollar store can once again deliver and they even sell the enormous pill boxes for even more storage. Love, love, love this tip!

Hope you enjoyed today's arts and crafts tips. Just so you know, if you are not the craft type these are still good tips to encourage your kids to get crafty and creative. You might get into it too!

Have I told you I just love Tuesdays?

P.S. I wrote this post last week and scheduled it for today. So over the weekend I could not resist and I had to upgrade my own craft box. I coveted my gift and surrendered . What can you do? This is my totally cute and new craft box! It even matches my bedroom where I keep it from curious yet destructive, little hands.

Christian Confessions

Beth Moore. Living Proof Simulcast. This past weekend. Glorious.

What an amazing time of renewal in my heart, sweet fellowship with my girlfriends, and rockin' out some praise for the Lord! I wish I knew where to begin about what made this weekend exactly what I needed. I have been going through such a desert time in my walk as a Christian and asking God to revitalize the fellowship we once had. Sadly, I found that I have built layers onto my calloused heart. I truly have been living each day as if I were the controller of my own destiny. Not absolutely sure why I decided to take the driver's seat of my own life because I am seriously lost! I am on an unbeaten path, so to speak. Its boring. There is no scenery. No excitement. No danger. I am just traveling along the day to day commute of life. Just wondering how life began happening to me instead of things happening in my life.

Then, this weekend I realized my issue. I have joked about it with friends but never knew the sin that had taken over my thought life. It was the sin of glorifying myself. I cringe as I tap out these keys admitting openly the dark, cobwebby places of my mind. See, this is where long time Christians get tripped up. We strip away all the obvious stuff...like partying, having a potty mouth, slandering others, blah, blah, blah. But its the MIND where it all begins. The actual enticement of sin. We entertain it like long lost friends and they manifest into thoughts that soon become behaviors. This is frightening because the life of a Christian does not model this...actually, it is the exact opposite. We are to decrease as Christ increases within. We are to glorify God, not ourselves and our lives are the exemplification of Christ. When you see me, you need to see Jesus. So here is the bile that comes to the fore as I think on this truth for myself...if I want my own glory, then I am no better than Satan himself who equates himself to God wanting the same glory.

This disgusts me to the core.

And it makes me realize that I have a lot of work to do. Not because anything I can do will make God love me, pleased more or less, or even appease Him from anger. No, He understands my humanity and that understanding alone is mercy and undeserved grace in its purity. But the work of a Christian sold out for Jesus. Taking up my cross. Surrendering my total will; not part of it.
Now I am thinking of that song...

Holiness, holiness is what I long for

Holiness is what I need.

Holiness, holiness is what you want from me

So take my heart and form it

Take my mind; transform it

Take my will and conform it

to yours, to yours, O Lord.

This is so the cry of my heart. And because of that I want to admit some things here. Not because it's funny or blog worthy. But because we are set free by not hiding and becoming transparent. So many Christians hurt the Christian image as a whole because they are scared to be honest and seen as fallible. Because guess what? We all fall short of the glory of God!

So here are my 10 confessions so that we can keep it real at Two Shades of Pink, get encouraged and realize working out our salvation is living up to what we have already attained. So many people have it backwards. They are working towards acceptance. Praise you Jesus Christ, I am already accepted and I am asked to live out my salvation that is 100% assured.

Ready?

1. During Beth Moore on Friday night, I was praying with my whole heart, asking God to get all the glory, to bring me back to the heart of worship and all of a sudden my closet pops in my head and I begin moving hangers figuring our what I am going to wear to the Saturday portion of the Simulcast.
2. Most days when I have a choice to read my bible or read Christian fiction. I pick the fiction every time since it is a lot easier to live vicariously through a book character then devote my own daily fellowship with God.
3. Sometimes when I sing worship in church, I wonder if people heard the notes I am hitting really well rather then remembering the God I am supposed to be worshipping.
4. I had a Jehovah's Witness come to my door the other day. The girls were napping and instead of talking to her for 2 hours like I would have 2 years ago (I so know they got together and marked my house with an X and never came here anymore because I would trap them with chocolate chip scones and the solid truth of Jesus Christ) I told her I was a born again Christian and I really was not interested. I was nice but where the heck was my loving witness? In all honesty? I wanted to be alone with the free time I had.
5. I have been afraid to write on this blog like I am with this post because I cared more about gaining readers then I did about my own convictions. I am not saying every post will be like a sermon but I never want to water down my very life source again.
6. I spend more time preparing my look each Sunday then I do about preparing my heart for God's message.
7. I gossip more than I care to admit. Yet, I am rather intuitive to others who do the same and can hold them at arms length.
8. I often judge my husband and where he is lacking spiritually rather than focusing on where I am utterly wanting in my own faith. It is so easy for me to spot the sin of others and cover it over my own with appalling piety.
9. I am so insecure that I think I spend more time worried about what my friends think of me then enjoying and growing a friendship. This also affects me in my witness. I want people to like me more than I want them to hear the Good News.
10. I quickly become disenchanted by Christians who fall due to holding high expectations of those in the faith. Grace is often a willful choice for me. I do extend grace, but remember I am sharing my thought life with you. But it does change my behavior. So where others will reach out, snatch those from the flames, I can sometimes desire to watch them burn and call it natural consequence.

OK. I may need to go throw up after admitting all of these things. But here is the thing. I am a work in progress. I acknowledge my limitations and ask God to transform me. To give me His likeness. To use me mightily.

And most of all...to get all the Glory.

Tooth Bear Craft

Yep. I'm doing a craft post. It will be short, I promise.

I share this little craft with you since I am in the frame of mind of gift giving for kids right now. So many birthdays, babies about to be born, etc I am always thinking of what I can give with the personal touch.

I was a little nervous giving these as a gift but it was for my BFF's two boys and she always appreciates my frugal...ok....handmade gifts. At the very least, if she already had something like this for them put away they could have little keepsake bears (they are pretty small...perfect for the Ms. Fairy to retrieve under a pillow).

Now before you get a little intimidated, it actually ended up pretty easy. It was only a little hard because I had no idea how to do a whip stitch or blanket stitch but I kinda got the hang of it after I was almost done. It looks VERY handmade but I kinda liked that effect. I changed up the look a little bit and put her boy's initials on the little pockets where the tooth goes. Her oldest (who was four at the time) was really excited about these bears. Who woulda thunk?

I got this idea from the Martha Stewart website and you can get the detailed instructions for this project here.

At the very least, I hope you enjoyed seeing a cute little craft. My hope is to make something like this for my girls but much more girly. A flower, bird, butterfly...the possibilities are just endless.

Am I converting any of you into getting crafty?