Love the One You're With

So, unfortunately, many of my posts have been about my deep-seeded dream of selling our house and buying another one. This, as we all know, has not come to fruition.

Because of this, I have had one of many epiphanies. If I can't be in the house I want (one that is quiet, peaceful, with lots of property and wildlife and a big space for a big garden), then I need to love the house I'm with. This is obviously the house God has for us for this time in our lives.

There could be several reasons for this. First and foremost, my husband and I have two small children. If we were to take on a project house, which is what I really want to do, it would mean a huge sacrifice in the amount of time we could spend with them. My husband is a stay-at-home dad, and he would be surrounded by an unfinished house day in and day out without the time to accomplish what we need. In a few years, Allie will be six years old and Mac will be four (almost four and a half) and that is old enough for them to actually be involved - in a small way - in our projects. Or, at the very least, to be able to play independently for much longer stretches of time. At this point in their lives, they need us and our undivided attention. I don't want to make them sacrifice them for a house.

Another reason that has crossed my mind is finances. We don't have much debt - our mortgage and two student loans (one medium sized, one small) - and that is great. However, taking on a larger property - even if it is around the same monthly payment as the one we have now - means more maintenance. If we had a property with a long driveway, we would have to get a plow truck. Raising goats and chickens means fences and feed. Growing our own food and hunting on our property (yes, I said hunting - I am currently entertaining this idea as my desire to depend as little on market prices grows) means we need a big freezer. Chopping down our own firewood means we need a chainsaw and a log splitter (unless Shawn wants to go all hardcore and use an ax, but I don't know if he'll be on board with that). There are many more responsibilities in owning a larger property, and these are costs that won't be as big a deal when our two student loans are paid off. But at this point, they would be a very legitimate burden.

A third reason is simplicity. With our children being small, life should also, theoretically, be small. But it's not. It is busy and has become complicated for us. We feel like one - or both - of us is running constantly. Taking on a large property and a project house will require a lot of time. We do not have that time at this point, and neither one of us would want this dream property to become a burden. We want it to be wholly a blessing.

So, all of that being said, it is important that we give our current house our full attention. Instead of pining away for another house (well...I'm working on not doing that; it takes practice), we have decided to fully concentrate our efforts on the house God has blessed us with. It is a good, solid house, and it meets our needs. We have two children, three bedrooms, two full bathrooms. Our living room is large, so even though we don't have a playroom, we still have a lot of floor space for our children to use. Our yard is big enough for our small children to play in, yet small enough that Shawn can mow it in about forty-five minutes with the push mower. It is all fenced in, so we don't have to worry about Allie or Mac finding their way somewhere they should not.

We do have some projects on the docket. The first is a wall of built-in bookcases in our living room. This is our solution to not having a playroom. We have a wall of built-ins in the hallway that connects the living room and dining room. Currently this bookcase is maxed out. It not only has all of our books, but also all of our children's books, games, Play Doh, crayons, coloring books, and puzzles, as well as several display/decorative items. What we have decided to do is make that bookcase the children's domain. All of their stuff, whether used for playing, crafting, or snuggling, will go on those shelves. I also want to frame some pictures of them, as well as some of their artwork, and display it on the higher shelves so it is obvious that this is their space. Then, the bookcase in the living room will be alllll for us. The TV will go there (in its own custom-built spot), as well as DVDs, CDs, and our stereo. So will our books, records (yes, we have records), and the record player. This will make the living room a fully adult space. Of course our children can and will bring toys and stuff in the living room (we're not monsters, after all!), but once they are done playing, those items will go right back out of sight on the hallway shelves. I would not even be surprised if they ended up playing out there sometimes - doing puzzles or coloring, or building blocks. It's a bright, wide space, and it might feel like their own special place.

This spring, we are planning to tackle a garage re-do, a front porch and back deck beautification, and a few other things. But for now, it's the bookcases and some organization to help us be better stewards of this blessing God has given us. Because this may not be the house I truly love, but it is the house God - for the time being or for much more time to come - has blessed us with. And that's okay with me.

The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men...

...often go awry.

Our house did not sell.

Not only did it not sell, we weren't even close. Out of two Open Houses, we had two visitors. We had one showing. She was not remotely interested.

One of the familiar statements we hear is, "Maybe you should change realtors." We always shake our heads at this for several reasons, one of which is that we love our realtor and the agency for which she works is very successful in our area. Before this go-around, we always had a lot of interest in our house. And we always listed with her.

But the biggest reason we shake our heads is because we know the reality. We know that God is our realtor. We know that, no matter what, we won't sell our house until it is time to do so. We could have every realtor in our region listing our house, we could have an Open House every day, we could list our house for $10, and it wouldn't matter. Our house will sell when it is God's time for it to sell. Period.

This realization initially made me mad. I felt like God was holding me hostage, keeping my children away from the freedom of a rural lifestyle, keeping Shawn from his dreams of cutting our own trees for fuel and hiking through the woods to find a Christmas tree on our own property.

I also felt like I must have done something wrong. I was being punished for making a mistake or not having enough faith or zigging when I should have zagged or not being content enough with the blessings I had been given. But it had to be my fault.

However, after attending my ladies' Bible Study, a Women's Conference with Elyse Fitzgerald (and also re-reading portions of her book Because He Loves Me), and reading countless devotions from Proverbs 31 Ministries, and Turning Point, and Paul David Tripp, and listening to Charles Stanley and David Jeremiah, I realized that this is not who God is. He loves me. If he withholds things from me, it is out of love, for my edification and growth and maybe even protection. He's not necessarily saying no. He may be saying, "Wait."

And that has to be okay.

House Searcho Dramaderio

The post title is what I would name this house search if it was an opera. Because, after the last two days, it is definitely a drama.

We saw two houses on Saturday and one house today. Well, I saw two houses on Saturday. Bronchitis required Shawn and our children to remain home while I ventured out with my parents.

So, let's fill in the next chapter of this constantly unfolding drama.

House #1 - County Highway 110

For some reason, I knew this house wasn't going to be the one before we even went. I don't know why. Maybe because it has tenants in it, maybe because I know the guy who owns it. I don't know what it was. But as soon as we pulled into the driveway and saw the various pets, many children, and large number of random items in the yard, I was positive that we would not be living here.

This house was a disaster. Of course, it was dirty and smelled awful. But it also had a terrible layout, with two bedrooms downstairs and two upstairs, which won't work for us at all. Our tour, including talking with one of the tenants who we knew from back in the day, took fifteen minutes. I almost peeled out of the driveway.

House #2 - County Highway 155

This house was sooo exciting to me because I have always loved it. It's just adorable. It was built in 1936, and it always looked so neat and tidy. Inside, it held true to this external appearance. It was obvious that, though cosmetically in need of updates, it had been cared for very well.

The problem was that this house is very small. It also has a very large full bathroom located in the middle (literally) of the downstairs floor plan, and the walls impose on all of the other rooms. It is labeled a three bedroom, but this is a misnomer. The third bedroom is really a large, open room at the top of the stairs that holds the doors to the other two bedrooms. I do not think this could be made into an actual room. It would be too small.

This house will be a great place for another family. Just not us. On the plus side, the agent who showed us this house was super, super nice and we had a great time with him. We were there for an hour.

House #3 - Colyer Road

I will be honest. I was not super excited to see this house. I had google mapped it and was disappointed to see that there were three houses directly across the road from this one, basically blocking the view of a beautiful creek (really a small river). Even though this is a dead end road, and there is only one other house past this one, I really thought that it would be quite busy and much noisier than I wanted. But, we had the appointment, so we went anyway.

I. Am. In. Love. Seriously in love. I am actually scared about how much I like this house. First of all, in quite a distressing turn of events, the three houses that had been there are no longer there. They were apparently quite badly damaged during the last big flood and now there is just open land and a beautiful, unobstructed view of Schoharie Creek. Secondly, you would not believe how quiet it is here. Even though you can see the road that leads to this one, including the bridge that goes over the creek, no traffic noise can be heard. All you hear when you're outside is the rushing of the creek. It's incredible.

The house itself has everything I have ever wanted. Wide plank floors. Four bedrooms (so the extra can be used as a playroom/office/guest room). Two full bathrooms. Original woodwork. A mantle. A big, eat-in kitchen. A big dining room. A barn that is actually in good shape. A smaller building for a workshop or whatever. Lots of windows. Two acres. It's amazing.

Is it perfect? No. It is not in pristine condition. Some of the upstairs bedrooms have carpet (not a fan). They also made many questionable wallpaper choices. The kitchen is almost a disaster. It can be used, but it is so strangely laid out that we would have to start from scratch at some point and completely rework it. I mean completely.

Allie was in her glory. She was playing on the floor, going through all of the rooms. And outside? Forget it. She didn't care that it was cold and drizzly. She was running around the yard, playing with rocks, running up and down the hill. She would have stayed out there for the rest of the afternoon, ignoring her red nose and cold hands.

But, a few unfortunate facts remain. One of these is the location. While it is amazing in and of itself, it is far from church and my parents. Also the grocery store. Another of these is the taxes. $4700. Yeah. For where we live, that is high. We currently pay $1900. So that is more than twice our current taxes. That hurts. Thirdly, the flood issue is a concern. The basement is set for it: everything is raised, including the furnace, and it's obvious that if it floods, the house is ready. But we don't want a house that floods all the time.

So, basically, now I am torn. What is the next step? Are we insane for even considering a house that is sort of in the middle of nowhere? It has everything on my "list." Everything. I could see our children growing up here, running in the yard without fear of cars or noise. It's the perfect place to home school them, to have their birthday parties, to make Christmas memories and to play in the leaves and plant a garden.

But I don't want to fall in love with this house. Every time I do, they fall through. My dreams disintegrate and my heart is broken. I don't want that again. So, for now, I guess we sit and wait and see what comes down the road. And pray. Pray a lot for God's will and guidance. Because there is one thing that I absolutely, without a doubt, 100% know: the only place I want to be is where He wants us.

Mo' Houses, Mo' Problems

So, my husband and I are preparing to list our house. We are really coming down to crunch time. Shawn has a few things he wants to paint outside, and then we'll be ready to go. 

Now, the next obstacle: finding our next house. 

I was always very set on what I wanted our next house to be: big (at least 2500 square feet), 4 bedrooms, some sort of den, lots of land, out in the country, pretty secluded, at least one barn, garage, big eat-in kitchen, etc., etc., etc. Just your basic country oasis. 

Then, when Shawn was laid off, my priorities began to shift rapidly and my goal became to simplify. Less house, less stuff, less maintenance, less hassle. Still somewhere out in the country (or at least not right in the village), but nothing that would be overwhelming to care for or too expensive to heat. 

During the beginning of April, I was beginning to panic a little bit. There were so few houses listed in our price range, and the ones that were listed were either not remotely desirable or were in places we did not want to live. I knew that, if we are supposed to move at this time, God would provide our house and I didn't have to worry about when that would happen. Bu I was still beginning to fret. 

Now that "spring" is "here" (the quotes are on purpose because spring is sure taking her sweet time about showing up on a steady basis - at least here in upstate New York), the listings are really beginning to pop up. We now have four solid properties floating on our radar, and I'm sure more are coming. 

The problem? They are all completely different and they all have one major problem. 

House One: small ranch from the 50s that, for some reason even unknown to me, I love. Major problem: The neighbors want to buy the house for their son. We don't know if they are even qualified to do so from a mortgage standpoint. But even if they aren't, we're pretty sure they will hate us if we get this house. 

House Two: A 2 story craftsman. 4 BR, 2 BA a mile from Great Sacandaga Lake. 2 acres, a couple of outbuildings, seems pretty secluded.
Major Problem: It has tenants. Mean tenants. Tenants who can't buy the house but don't want to leave. Is this something we want to become remotely involved in? I don't know. 

House Three: A 2300 square foot, 4 BR, 2 BA farmhouse with a big eat-in kitchen, large DR, large LR on 2 acres with a barn and chicken coop that overlooks a creek.
Major Problem: It is FAAAAAR away. Really far. 33 minutes from church, 33 minutes from my parents' house, 25 minutes from work. And for people who are used to driving about 17 minutes to church and 12 minutes to my parents' house, this is a big deal. 

House Four: A 1040 square foot home that was built in 1936. 3 BRs, 1 1/2 baths, on 10 acres that borders a creek. Also a barn and another small shed.
Problem: This property is priced about $5,000 over what we want to spend. Also, it is in a very desirable school district. It was just listed yesterday, and even though I'm hoping to see it tomorrow, I'm almost positive this house will be gone before we even get our house on the market. 

So, obviously, quite a bit to sift through. All we can do in this whole process is trust God in each step. We know that He has it all under control and that His plan is perfect. But, boy - it sure is hard to wait!

Surprised at the Desire to Downsize

Our family is moving this spring. 

Scratch that. Our family is hopefully moving this spring. 

Moving has always been something that lives at the forefront of my mind. When we bought our house, it was never with the intent to remain there until we died or became too old to care for it properly. It was always supposed to be a stepping stone. We bought it for $30,000 as a foreclosure in a great school district, and we planned to do all sorts of work (which we did) and then move on to something else. 

Fast forward eleven years. 

We are still at this house. We first added two dogs (one of whom, sadly, passed away last August), then two children (June 2011 and June 2013), and we are still there. During our tenure in this home, we went from newly employed (Shawn) and in graduate school (me) to no longer employed (Shawn - stay-at-home dad/freelance graphic artist and web designer) and tenth year of teaching (me - how did that happen???). But we are still at this house.

This is not for lack of trying, either on our part or on the part of our most amazing realtor, Joelle. We first listed in 2007, during the real estate craze, and we were certain we would sell. We almost did. Then they backed out. So we didn't. 

Then we listed again. And we got an offer! And a contract! And then they couldn't actually get a mortgage. Burn. 

Then we listed again. And we got an offer! And a contract! And then they couldn't actually get a mortgage either. Burn again. 

Honestly, after this point, it gets a little hazy. I think that we only listed three times, but there may have been a fourth. Point is: we have not been able to sell our home. Not for lack of interest. Not for lack of bid-putting-in parties. Just because it hasn't happened yet. 

I know that this prevention is from God. I just never knew why. But I have come to the point of reckoning where I trust Him in this matter. Not perfectly. Sometimes I begin to fret a bit. Sometimes I become fearful that we will always be in this house, that we will never get to move to something that has a bit more open space, a bit more seclusion. But then I know that I just have to trust. He sees it all, He has his reasons. 

So, anyway, we are listing our house in a few weeks for the fourth time. And, for the first time ever in the search for our next home, I am looking at small houses. 
  
I always found small houses annoying. Fine for newly married couples, fine for retired people, fine for families with just one child. Fine for many people. Just not me. 

I wanted expansive spaces: a large, sweeping kitchen, spacious living room, expansive dining room that could easily entertain both of our extended families (probably close to 40 people, combined), big bedrooms that would be a master retreat for us and places of sanctuary and imagination for our children, large bathrooms, a laundry room, a pantry. And outside: at least one barn, acres and acres of land, porches, large trees. Everything I had ever imagined. 

Now that Shawn is a stay-at-home dad and my salary is our sole means of steady income, this looks less and less appealing. In fact, it's completely unrealistic. Homes like that are great for people who have the money - or want to spend the money - on their maintenance. Even the idea of entertaining dozens of people at a time is a large expense in and of itself. 

I have come to the conclusion that I don't want to use our resources toward these ends. I want a smaller house. A house where we are cozy, where it isn't so difficult to heat, where the children want to spend time outside and make the yard and trees their playground instead of retreating to separate, giant rooms. I want us to be able to be close - not only emotionally, but physically. I want to feel tucked in at night. I want to be forced to purge our lives of the extra stuff that so easily becomes a regular part of who we are. I'm ready to move past the past dreams because now they would be burdens. I want to want only what I need. 

I think God has provided this heart-change in me. He knew that if we sold our house earlier, my sights would be drawn to something of this world, something that would require a great amount of fortitude in order to remain humble - fortitude that I don't possess. In a small house, my heart can't become so easily blurred by my real estate. Instead, I can see it being more of a daily reminder of God's provisions. 

It still remains to be seen whether our house will sell this time, either. It may not. We may spend another year or two or five in our house in the village. But, if it does sell, I want to cling to these new thoughts and pray that they become engraved on my heart. Because I always, always want to live in a spirit of appreciation - never pride. And only God can make that happen.

I Miss Summer...

Let's get one thing straight. I hate summer.

I do. I hate it. The oppressive heat, the blinding sun, the sweating. No, thanks. I live in upstate New York, and our summers could hardly be categorized as sweltering, but I still hate them. 

I love autumn. And winter. The crispness of the air, the beautiful foliage that blankets our hillsides and distant mountaintops, the excitement of first snow, the creation of a new world over and over again as snow storms bring a fresh cover to brown trees, the austerity of the landscape that reveals pieces of the world that are invisible under the cover of thick green leaves. October. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Visits to the orchard, multiple family gatherings, visiting Santa Claus, having a big breakfast after watching my children open presents. I love the snow, the cold, having to wear fleece pajama pants and snuggle in blankets, smelling wood smoke from neighboring chimneys, filling the kitchen with warmth and fragrance from a freshly baked batch of cookies. These seasons are magical. When it gives way to the inevitable mud and mess of spring, I am saddened. 

So when I say that I miss summer, it shows just how difficult this winter has been. We come to expect a few storms of close to (or over) a foot of snow, as well as a week's worth of below freezing temperatures in January, and none of this causes any consternation. We throw a few more pellets in the stove, zip up the hooded sweatshirts, add slippers over our thick socks and hunker down for a bit. Then, the temperatures return to normal - in the 20s - for the rest of January, usually with a slow uptick in February (low to mid-30s) and then, by March, we're pretty steadily climbing into the 40s on a regular basis. 

Not this year. 

This year was unbearably cold for a painful amount of time. Weeks stretched by with temperatures barely reaching 20 degrees - or even ten degrees, for many days. The oppressive early darkness made it seem even colder, and so many evenings were spent looking longingly out the window, wishing for light at 5:00 pm. 

Now, spring has arrived, but only on the calendar. This morning's temperature was 6 degrees. 6. 

So, now, despite my usual distaste toward spring, I am anxious for green trees, green grass, green flower buds. I can't wait to be able to spend more than two minutes outside. I want to hang flowering baskets from my porch posts and plant flowers in my window boxes. I am excited to be able to release my children from the stale air of the house to the fresh, clean air of the outdoors. I am excited. I am ready. It's about time. 

Heart-Shaped Pancakes

This year, our Valentine's Day doubled as a snow day, which meant that I was given an extra day to spend with my wonderful husband and beautiful children. Shawn gave Allie a little gift (Minnie Mouse bath set - she loves Minnie) and we were feeling all sorts of lovey and celebration-y. Definitely caught up in this current, my husband says to me, 

"You should make Allie heart-shaped pancakes for breakfast." 

"Yes! I totally should!" I replied immediately and set out to make create the most wonderful breakfast spread any child could ever imagine. 

I had already imagined it as a took the pancake mix from the pantry. A warm pile of chocolate chip pancakes, shaped in perfect hearts. I could see Allie's bright blue eyes widen in delight, could see her picky-ness vanish as she took big bites of the soft treats, our hearts warm as the lovely snow continued to fall softly outside. It was going to be awesome. 

However, almost never are my imaginings able to jump that wide chasm into reality. 

The first problem that arose was construction. My initial idea was to use a cookie cutter and fill it with batter, but I quickly saw that I did not have a heart-shaped cookie cutter (or if I do have one, I couldn't find it). So I decided that I would put the batter in a large storage bag, cut off the tip, and - voila!!! - easily pipe out the pancake batter in perfect heart shapes. 

This was a veritable disaster. 

I don't know why. I really don't. But as soon as I started to try to make the heart shapes, all I got were uneven circles or oddly-shaped ovals. No hearts. Nothing even close to a heart. After about six of these, I started crying. Hard. 

Poor Shawn did not understand. He tried to assure me that it was no big deal, that Allie didn't know, that they would still taste great. I informed him that none of that mattered. I had set out to make heart-shaped pancakes, and I had failed. "If my mother had wanted to make us heart-shaped pancakes when we were kids," I told him, "we would have had heart-shaped pancakes!" Then I ended my argument for my utter failure as a mother with: "Some women have the touch and some women don't. And I don't." 

Shawn still didn't get it, but he comforted me anyway, which I appreciated. And I felt bad for quite awhile afterward, until something struck me: it's okay for me to fail. God loves me anyway. He knows I will fail. He expects it because I am a fallen creature. And He loves me anyway. Always. Unquestioningly. Because He's God and He says in His Word that He loves me. 

The thing that I find most astounding is that God will never love me MORE. He doesn't love me more when I read my Bible than when I don't, or when I am speaking sweetly than speaking harshly. He doesn't love me less because I can't make heart-shaped pancakes or because I have never made an apple pie from scratch or because my floor has crumbs on it. Or because sometimes I'm mean or cranky or cynical or frustrated or angry. He just loves me. Period. 

This means that no matter what I can or cannot do, I am enough just as I am. Not because of me - but because of Him. Because He loves me. Just the way I am. 

The results of our snowstorm 

Cry It Out

After seven months of life, my beautiful son finally sleeps through the night. Now, some mothers out there may be reading this and immediately feel one (or many) of a variety of emotional responses: jealousy, sadness, failure, discouragement. I used to feel that way when I heard that another person's baby was giving his or her parents seven or eight blissful hours of straight sleep every night while I was still getting up two, three, four times a night for no apparent reason. My stomach would clench as this parent (or parents) gleefully, and with rested face, recounted how his or her cherub went down peacefully at night and slept until 6:30 or 7:00 the next morning. I would immediately feel shamefully jealous, then quickly descend into despair (He will never sleep all night! He will be ten years old and I will still be getting up at 2 am to feed him!), discouragement (What am I doing wrong? I have read so many articles and tried so many things. Why do none of them work on my son?), failure (I must be a bad mother. That's all there is to it. My poor child can't sleep and it must be my fault.). 

Then, a most beautiful story was casually recounted, and hope was restored to our world. 

"[My son] was getting up every two hours. I just couldn't take it anymore. Finally, we just let him cry it out. The first night, he cried for two and a half hours. I slept with a pillow over my head. But after a few nights, he was sleeping all night." 

I felt a glimmer of hope. I had heard about Cry It Out - read about it, analyzed it, debated it, agonized over it. It seemed wrong - to leave a tiny, helpless baby in his crib to face a dark, terrifying room alone, to cry with no comfort or refuge, to let this baby possibly feel tiny hunger pangs and not relieve them immediately. In the past, I could not ever feel comfortable with the concept. And then Allie was born, and by ten weeks old, she was sleeping all night, and has slept all night since that point. 

Mac was a different story. 

He was immediately less of a sleeper than Allie at night, but nothing insane. He would wake up, I would feed him, he would go back to sleep, and the cycle would continue throughout the night. By the time he was two months old, he was down to about once a night, with an early morning feeding around 5:30. And I thought, Okay. I can do this. He's getting into a pattern. 

Then he started teething. At two and a half months old. And all sleeping hell broke loose. All routines that had been established during the night were broken as he was desperate for the comfort that nursing provides. Suddenly, the one feeding a night was up to three or four, every hour, or hour and a half, or two hours. I would sit and feed him and cry at 3 am, as I was up for the fourth time with absolutely no idea how to rectify the problem. When his bottom two teeth came in at four months old, I hoped for a reprieve and got one. For a week. Then the top two started and it was exhaustion all over again. 

By the time he was seven months old, we had had enough. My husband and I discussed it. He's too old to get up so many times in the night. He can't be that hungry. He's same weight as the average thirteen-month-old. He can last all night. But the question remained: what do we do? 

Once we heard the Cry It Out story, everything seemed to come into focus. All of the articles I had read, all of the advice I had heard, all of the strategies I had tried boiled down to one fact: he has to learn to get back to sleep on his own. We could do sleep training or any number of things, but he had to learn. And for us, Cry It Out just made sense. We could do it that night, immediately, with no reading necessary. We knew it would be difficult, knew we would have to fight our parental instincts to run in, comfort him, make it better. But we also knew, we had to do it - for our good and for his. 

The first night was petrifying. We waited, dreading the inevitable cries and the purposeful negligence that was about to ensue. The first wave came at 11:30. Mac began to cry and my husband and I sat on the edge of our bed, just listening, try to gauge how bad it was going to be. After a few minutes, the cries dissipated as he went back to sleep. That wasn't so bad, I thought. 

Then came 2 am. He began to cry, and it escalated as his cries went unanswered and he waited in the darkness for me to respond, to put him back to sleep. It was torture. Time was endless. Time dragged on, an assault on all senses as I clutched the pillow and my husband and I waited with open eyes for him to stop. And, a mere twenty minutes later, he did. 

The next night, he cried around the same time for between 5-10 minutes. Much less time, much less torture. The next night, only a couple of minutes. And by the fourth night, he was sleeping almost twelve hours straight. And he has continued to sleep like this ever since. 

I wonder if we are like this with God sometimes. We cry out for Him, cry out for His help or healing or comfort, and sometimes it seems like we get no response. We need something, or lots of things, and we are imploring our Heavenly Father to rescue us from where we are flailing in the darkness. We wonder where He is, wonder why He is not with us, why He has not picked us up and made everything better. We feel lost, forgotten, abandoned. 

But what we don't realize is that He's right in the next room. He hears us. He knows we need Him, even more than we know it. He knows our heart pangs, our fear, our sense of not knowing where we are or what is next. He knows we feel completely overwhelmed because we can't see what's in front of us. 

But what we also don't realize is that, sometimes, we need to cry. We need to cry because, in crying, we learn to trust. We learn to say, "Even though I can't see You, even though I can't feel you, I believe that it's going to be okay. I believe that You care for me and love me. And even if I know nothing else, I know that. And that's all I need to know." 

So we don't need to fear if God seems to be ignoring our cries. He is not. He hears. He is just giving us an opportunity to trust. And for that, I am so thankful. 

Mac, 8 months old