Victory

When my hubby & I went to our annual Eagles game this year, the stadium actually ran out of fireworks. We landed a 51-23 victory against the Broncos... the echoing fight song was close to constant, but the fireworks were forced to end - who could predict a score like that?

Late in the game, miles ahead of Denver, Pederson gave Wentz a much-deserved rest and put in Foles. We sat down, second-string style. But then some folks in the crowd started chanting "Nick Foles, Super Bowls!" I couldn't help but laugh, first at the unceasing hope of Philadelphia fans - our resounding surety of an upcoming Super Bowl - and then this ridiculous fantasy that a back-up quarterback could even possibly bring us there. Of course Foles proved my laughing laughable that game - it all was a bit surreal to see.

And now here we are... Nick Foles, Super Bowls, indeed. 

All week long, Philly fans were able to face their days, with every difficulty, challenge, and annoyance that may have came their way, with the sure and steady statement of :
"It's OK...the Eagles are going to the Super Bowl!" 

It could put a hope-filled spin on just about anything... because how often do you get to say it and really, truly know it?  

As a Philly follower, this kind of victory isn't something we get to confidently or constantly declare. But this week, we did. 

What joy this week for Philadelphia. But what joy this life for me. 

1 Corinthians 15:57... "But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."

As a Jesus follower, we have victory always and victory over all. 

What us fans get to feel right now temporarily, is given to us times a million in Christ eternally.

We have a hope, but also a sure victory, giving us an overwhelming and unending joy! 

So sure, whatever comes our way this week - it's alright, them birds are going to the Super Bowl!

But whatever comes our way this life, it's more than alright! God's already given us the victory. 

He is worthy of my praise, trust, & gratitude and I'm a confident fan for always. 

My Hubby's Not a Hero

I haven't had a chance to write on here in years, and we'll see if I get interrupted before I'm even done this sentence... nope, we're good. I haven't stopped writing altogether though, instead I've had the opportunity to teach some, with marriage retreats, seminars, and even preaching in front of our little church a bit. But this couldn't wait. This needed to get down. If only for me, this needed to be spewed out of my fingers tips to release it from my brain, my heart...


I had been ready to post another gushy gooey shout-out to my hubby last week. I was sick. Sick for days. High temp, low temp, sweats, chills. Better? Nope. Migraines, vomit, more vomit. It's that time of year after all, when the kids go back to school to collect armfuls of germs and bring them home to mommy. I'm much better now, but you have to understand the sick day policy at my job is less than ideal. There is none. Dishes need to be done, lunch bags packed, butts wiped, laundry folded, dinner on the table... but at 6 pm, after putting in his full day too, my hubby walks in the door, says my shift is over, and sends me straight to bed.

I don't know what happened next and I don't need to. All I know is I woke up the next morning having nearly 12 hours of sleep and this repeated for a few days in a row. I wouldn't have been able to recover without it. He was a hero and everyone needed to know! But then I thought, you know, what makes him this constant hero to me is not actually heroic at all. Because really, it's just a very simple keeping of his word.

He vowed to take care of me in times like this. He promised. Marriage is far from 50/50, we've heard, it's more like 90/10. He promised to put up a 90 when I could only muster a 10. And he did.
Last week, he just kept his promise.

But why is it still huge then, why does it stand out? Because maybe the world just isn't great at keeping a promise these days.

We've all been to plenty of weddings recently where the bride and groom have "prepared their own vows". This usually means the groom fumbles through his pockets, pulls out a little paper, and reads something along the lines of "I remember where we first met, I saw you and you were beautiful." The bride turns to her MOH and grabs her note, "I've dreamed of this day since I was a little girl..."

Pretty... but the word vow /vou/ noun means 1. a solemn promise.

Maybe promises being kept stand out because we hardly even attempt to make them in the first place. Instead we take a picture, tell a story, and everyone smiles. But solemn promises are to be exchanged, a holy contract is to be made.

This week, my husband merely executed his end of the contract. And as much as I want to dance and shout about him, why can't this be the expectation?

It's hard to watch marriages around you fall and crumble; it leaves an unintended mess for many. But when someone comes seeking marriage advice and starts speaking ideas of leaving or it'd be better this way or possibly even there might be someone else instead, my soft-speaking hubby boldly takes a stand and gives these words I might never, ever let leave my head.

He asks, "What makes you think that is even an option?"

Our word, our promise, is still powerful, valuable, and upholdable. In marriage and more. A vow is solemn, dignified, respected. Don't deface your very own word and don't shy away from it. Proudly live under contract.

My hubby's not a hero; he's just good at keeping a promise.

Trust + Birthdays

Nothing like waiting for a baby to make you want to write stuff down...if not, you just might go insane. With the pregnancy finish line so close (and somehow oh so far), your heart and head end up all over the place. But I have had a little practice sorting it out in the past, and I may have even picked up on a couple things along the way.


Through all 5 of my pregnancies I've learned lessons in sacrifice, surrender, humility, patience, sorrow, gratitude... it's almost impossible for a pregnant woman not to. But mostly I've learned to practice Trust... and you'd think I'd have it down by now, yet it's a daily choice, by the moment really, to take your grip off of that reed basket you know you're trying to steer and just let go, again and again.

My oldest's birthday is tomorrow; I don't know how, but she's going to be 7! About 9 months ago, when we told her this new baby's due date, the possibility of interference with her own birthday, or worse, her big party, was of top concern. She's prayed about it, shared it with our church, wrote homework assignments about it, whispered it to my belly button for months... 

"Hi, I love you, but please don't come on my birthday."

One night this week it was at the top of her prayer requests once again and after a day being filled with contractions coming and going, I knew I had to say something. I tried to explain to my precious daughter (ironically, redemptively, humorously?) the concept of our own desires versus God's will - trusting His plan, not ours.

Now this is the same discussion that our adult group just had the other week, and even we struggled/struggle to really get it. But I always bring it back to my Jesus, and even He, yes the Perfect One, experienced this.

He knew His hours were running out and the very same people that had just welcomed Him into the city with shouts of praise would scream out "crucify him" come tomorrow. And Jesus prayed. Through literal blood, sweat, and tears, He prayed for His own desires.

I paraphrased to my little-big-girl that before Jesus went to die on the cross for us he told God,

"I don't want to do this whole thing anymore, please don't make me do this..."

But He didn't stop there, He followed it by saying,

"But more than what I want, I really want whatever You want, God."


She ask me to repeat it, she closed her eyes to hear it harder.

Jesus confessed to God his honest desire, His (dare I say self-seeking?) needs. But... over-arching it all, Jesus prayed this: I Trust You God and Your Good Plan, for me and for everything. 

"Your Will be done, not mine." ~Luke 22:42


With each season, with each baby, with each moment, have Your way. I Trust You, again and again.

 

(With all that being said, the doctor told us today to plan for a birthday party tomorrow and a baby by next week. The almost-7-year-old jumped for joy  :)

A Time To...

Last week, I found myself smack in the middle of two very extreme realities that we mere humans have a hard time even beginning to wrap our head around.

Life and Death.
Creation and End.
Hope and Despair.
Joy and Mourning.

Experiencing all of these in less than an hour was brutally overwhelming, yet refreshingly raw.
Just real.

My uncle battled a tough fight with multiple myleoma. We all watched as he so slowly, then suddenly much more rapidly, died before our eyes over the last couple of years.

As my husband and I had an unavoidable spectator's seat in this, we were nudged to discuss big realities in our own lives, in our family dynamic, in humanity itself; we were able to mourn while living.

But even with the somewhat blessing of being prepared for this personal tragedy, we still weren't.

With a coffin in front of us, it still hit hard as I watched my aunt crying over her best friend, my teenage cousin casually conversating with his dad. Saying final goodbyes.

We weep when we see a loved one lifeless, like Jesus Himself did when he saw his friend Lazarus. They're right here with us, but not here.

We weep also when we see a baby on a screen full of life. They're not yet here with us, but so very here.


We had to schedule an ultrasound a month in advance. You know, the big one. Full bladder. Gender revealed. Hours on a table. Goo on top of goo. After going back and forth, we decided to keep the appointment. Straight from the cemetary, my husband and I drove directly to the doctor's office, with just minutes to spare.

Him in a dark suit, me a black maternity dress, pearls, mascara smeared. We entered the dark room and made small talk with the smiley technician. I lift up my layers of black and got ready for the familar. But this, though familar, never gets old.

The vivid pumping of the heartbeat, the little toes, the exaggerated squirms, the perfect lips, the nose.

"There's the baby's legs right there and it looks like..."
"A girl," I answered myself, an all-knowing veteran at this point.
My husband in shock and awe, still and again. Me with tears streaming quietly down my cheeks.

The same tears from just an hour earlier, but not. More like tears to wash away tears.

Life in the midst of death. A new creation in the midst of an end. So much hope in the midst of despair. True joy in the midst of mourning.

Really, what Christ offers us all.


At the funeral mass, my brother went to the altar and read these ancient, holy words:

"There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

 a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,     

 a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,    

 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,  

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, 

 a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,    

 a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,      

a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace."

-Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

When those times above are juxtaposed so closely in life that they overlap seasons, moments really, our humanity itself can overwhelm us. 

But to have a God who is sovereign over it all is all. Everything in everything.

~~~

To donate in memory of my uncle and in honor of my cousin's future, please click below:

Joe Jr. Fund