Monthly Archives: July 2010

goodnight, goodnight til then.

A beloved deacon from our church, Larry,  suffered a severe stroke and passed away. I knew him from the church I grew up in, and then from our current church. He was a true servant of the church, and he will be missed.

Matthew Smith has a song on his forthcoming album that I feel is appropriate. We do not die in Christ, we merely expire. It’s still hard, but it’s not forever. So, goodnight, Larry.We will meet again.

Goodnight” by Matthew Smith

I journey forth rejoicing
From this dark vale of tears
To heavenly joy and freedom
From earthly bonds and fears
Where Christ our Lord shall gather
All His redeemed again,
His kingdom to inherit–
Goodnight, goodnight till then

Why thus so sadly weeping
Beloved ones of my heart?
The Lord is good and gracious
Though now He bids us part
Oft have we met in gladness
And we shall meet again
All sorrow left behind us–
Goodnight, goodnight till then

I go to see His glory
Whom we have loved below
I go, the blessed angels
The holy saints to know.
Our lovely ones departed
I go to find again
And wait for you to join us–
Goodnight, goodnight till then

I hear the Savior calling–
The joyful hour has come
The angel-guards are ready
To guide me to our home
Where Christ our Lord shall gather
All His redeemed again,
His kingdom to inherit–
Goodnight, goodnight till then


18 months.

I don’t like the mama I am recently.

I am tired constantly and grumpy.

Sam is going through…something. Teething, maybe? Molars? Sleep regression? I don’t really know. He’s been waking up 4-5 (or more) times a night and not going to sleep until 9 or 10 at night, but waking up around the same time as he always does. Plus he is going through some kind of language explosion and all of that combined makes for some rough days.

He’s whiny. He’s figured out how to defeat all our baby gates — all of them! — so I can’t keep him contained anymore. He gets into everything, and as much as I try to create a “yes” environment, I find that I am saying NO about 567 billion times a day and I just feel exasperated and like I am a failure as a mother. He hits and throws stuff and pinches when he gets mad or frustrated, and we have tried everything to get him to stop. I have resorted to just putting him in his crib if he does any of that stuff for a “time out” but I don’t know that he’s getting the picture. Spanking doesn’t work. Redirection doesn’t work. I don’t feel like anything works.

I’m exhausted and even when Sam does sleep, I have insomnia that nothing helps. I might fall asleep pretty quickly initially but if Sam wakes up or I need to get up to go pee, I’m pretty much just awake for the rest of the night, usually from about midnight or 1 on.

I’m not being the mama I want to be right now. I want to be kind and patient and fun and happy. I just don’t know how to handle my own kid and he’s 18 months old. What am I going to do when he’s 3? Five? Fourteen?

Deep breath. One day at a time.

Pray for me, please. And pray for Sam. I forget sometimes that I should pray for Sam to be able to listen and obey me.

I think if I had an uninterrupted, no-insomnia 8 hours of sleep my perspective would be different.

Good things about 18 months:

He says “thank you” pretty consistently now. We’re still working on “please.” But “thank you” is really cute. 🙂

We went to the zoo last Friday and he thought it was pretty cool. He enjoyed petting the sharks, I think.

He’s still nursing, and even though it’s uncomfortable for me right now, I am glad.

He likes to pretend he’s drumming when we’re listening to music.

We talked about big boy beds, and watched videos on youtube about getting a big boy bed. He seemed interested, but we’ve gotta wait until this sleep regression/teething madness ends.

God knows and loves my little boy more than I do, He promises to do right by him. I just have to trust….


“What an utter denial it is of the whole of the New Testament, this foolish suggestion that one service a Sunday is enough, one that takes place at nine o’clock in the morning, to get rid of it, as it were, in order that you can then really go and enjoy yourselves and have real happiness in looking at the television or in rushing to the seaside or in playing golf!

But what happens when people are baptized with the Holy Spirit — as you read throughout Acts — is that they want to keep together, to get together as often as they can — they continued daily, steadfastly, talking about these things, singing together, praising God together. This was the thing that was first above everything else.  Everything else came second; even their work was something they had to do.  It was right that they should do their work, of course, but this was the thing that meant life to them, joy and salvation.”

Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Joy Unspeakable (Wheaton, 1984), page 102.  Italics original, emphasis mine.

(HT: Christ is deeper still)

I really, really miss that. I’m not convinced when anyone tries to tell me it’s a station of life thing — like, in college, that kind of fellowship was easy, because we were in college and had very little in terms of actual responsibility, but now — now that we have houses and kids and marriages, well, fellowship just gets pushed to the back burner and there’s nothing we can do about it. Maybe that’s true to a certain extent — it is more complicated to make time for fellowship — but I’m not crazy for thinking something is not right about a lack of fellowship. I’m not. And surely there are others out there — I hope! — who desire that kind of community as much as we do. Please, Lord…please.

Maybe we should just move back to Muncie.

why most CCM sucks: an example.

So, I don’t listen to a lot of CCM. I have a few worship bands I enjoy like Hillsong United or David Crowder Band but that’s pretty much it as far as what’s in the regular rotation at K-LOVE. But we’ve been listening to K-LOVE in the car (and by ‘we’ I mean Sam and myself) because while K-LOVE can be cloyingly positive and encouraging, at least the DJs and the music isn’t crass or vulgar, and with an 18-month old who doesn’t. miss. a. single. thing, I figure super annoying is a better choice than vulgar, at least until I can get a auxillary jack for my mp3 player in my new car (in my old Subaru, we could play mp3s through the tape adapter, but my new car only has a 6-disc CD changer, and who even has CDs anymore? I have some, but they are all scratched, because all the music from them has been ripped to my mp3 player, where they belong).


So I’ve been exposing myself to a bit more CCM than is in my standard diet. Most of it is just there — it’s not good, but it’s not bad, and it’s not original or overly ambitious, it just exists as some “music” that some record producer figured out will sell records to …who knows. People without the same taste in music as me.

One song in particular comes to mind as being particularly obnoxious. I don’t really have a problem with the over-earnestness that seems to haunt CCM music, or even the lackluster passionless studio musicians who play the songs. No, what tends to bother me more than anything is lyrics that are stupid and cliche.

And the song “Undone” by FFH is a perfect example of that.  Let’s take a look at the lyrics, shall we?

Open up wide, swallow down deep
No spoon full of sugar could make it sweet
The cancer inside stealing my sleep
Night after night it keeps haunting me

Wait, we’re swallowing cancer? Typically, no, sugar won’t make cancer any sweeter. Or are we talking about something else? The cancer is stealing your sleep? Wait, what’s haunting you? Cancer? Is it a ghost? A sweet cancer ghost. Oh. Gotcha.

So the sweet cancer ghost….

The secrets I keep
Are tearing me up inside
I try to hide and then I wonder why

Why I’m still running when I know there’s no escaping

No escaping from the saccharine incubus of cancer? Or from your secrets?

Come undone, surrender is stronger
I don’t need to be the hero tonight
We all want love we all want honor
Nobody wants to pay the asking price

Who are we talking to again? Yourself? The Sweet Cancer Ghost? The asking price for what? I’m confused…

Fall on my knees, fall on my pride
I’m tripping over all the times I’ve lied
I’m asking please, but I can see in your eyes
You don’t need tears for alibis
It’s true what they say
Love must be blind
It’s why You’re still standing by this sinner’s side

Ohhhhh we’re talking to Jesus! I get it now!! So why were we asking Him to surrender and come undone earlier? Oh we weren’t talking to Him then? We switched who we were talking to halfway through the song so that everyone in your community college intro to creative writing class could circle that on your working first draft as really confusing and —

You’re still by my side when all the things I’ve done have left you bleeding


I don’t think I can drive it home tonight
I don’t think I wanna be alone tonight

Are you drunk? Is the sweet cancer ghost an adult beverage? I mean, it says earlier you’re tripping over all the times you lied, so really…are you drunk? Also: theological point of contention: Love isn’t blind. God doesn’t just choose to ignore your sin. No, a penalty had to be paid for it. And Jesus paid the price. Now, God looks at us and sees Christ’s righteousness covering us, but at no point is it a blind, unseeing love. That’s the beauty of the gospel — despite knowing the very depths of our sin, even more than we know of our own sin,  God sent His Son to die in our place. And now our sin has been erased.

Anyway, just a small point of contention, and with a train wreck like that song I wouldn’t really expect theological soundness.

Every time I hear that song it makes me want to rip my hair out. I mean, come on. This is like freshman creative writing level stuff — metaphors that are not only cliche, but mixed and confusing, changing who the text is addressing, etc. Shouldn’t we at least try to write lyrics that don’t suck? I know, I know, but their hearts were in the right place when they wrote that song and that’s what really matters, blah blah blah, and I’m a mean person. But whatever. Write songs that don’t suck. Thanks.

11 weeks.

I never post anymore. Sorry. Or maybe you’re not sorry, but I am.

Anyhoo, I had my first prenatal appointment with my wonderful, amazing home birth midwives today. I just love them. They have such good chemistry together and I feel so at ease with them. I think that the birth will have a very easy-going vibe. Well, of course, labor itself will not be easy, but it will be easier when I am surrounded by loving, supportive people.  They empower me to make good choices for my prenatal care and encourage me to take care of myself. I have found with this pregnancy that I just don’t have as much time or energy to devote to thinking about it all the time and sometimes my nutrition or need for rest and relaxation gets pushed to the back burner. I am following the Brewer Diet again this time with less emphasis on drinking so much milk. I think drinking a ton of milk like I did with my last pregnancy led not only to my weight gain and puffiness toward the end of the pregnancy and also Sam’s milk intolerance now. He can eat cheese but straight-up milk still gives him a tummy ache, even the organic expensive stuff. But I digress.

Baby’s heartrate was at 156, which was faster than Sam’s ever was. He was always in the 140s or 130s. I’ve heard that girls are supposed to be faster than boys, and Sam INSISTS that it is a girl. I can ask him in different ways, change up the word order, and every time he says GIRL. I’ve asked him, “what if it’s a boy?” and he shakes his heads no and points to himself like, I’m a boy, Mama. I just love this kid.

I loved hearing the baby’s heartbeat. It’s so reassuring. It also makes it feel more real. I have a lot to get done in the next 6 months or so. I keep wanting to snuggle with Sam. I think it’s dawning on me that the era of Baby Sam is ending and the era of Big Kid Sam is quickly approaching (if it’s not already here). I kind of want to co-sleep again. I don’t think it would be a great idea in the long run, but I do miss that little boy at night.  I miss my snuggle times.

These are unrelated notes:

I want to play the guitar. Again.

I am contemplating dreadlocks, but my hair is too short for now. Tim is hoping this is a phase that will pass as he associates dreadlocks with smelly hippies, but I have wanted dreadlocks since college (a looooong time ago now, it seems) and I am not sure the desire will pass in the next year or so as I let my hair grow out some more. We’ll see.

I wish I could afford all organic food all the time.

I want to go camping. In Michigan. Right now.

I want tabboulah and a beer. Tabboulah I can do…beer not so much.

We visited a new church on Sunday and I LOVED it. It’s smallish, urban, young, and not too far away from us. Also, I walked away from the service with a renewed love for Jesus and a stronger desire to serve Him, which I figure are good things, good fruit.

I have a really great husband who puts up with more than his fair share of my crap on an hourly basis.

I have a sweet baby boy who hugs my legs and reaches up to hold my hand and says, “Hey, Mama. Hey, Mama.” when he wants to love me.

I have a sweet babe in my belly who’s little heartbeat sounds like whooshwhooshwhooshwhoosh.

We have a boy name and a girl name picked out, but we’re generally not telling, unless you’re really special.