We Will Never Forget...

Everyone knows where they were on this day 10 years ago. In a classroom, at work, at the doctor, in their car, or just at home watching TV.  We all know what this day did to us, how it changed our perspective of what it was to be a citizen of this country. Most of us had never seen an attack on American soil.  It was as if someone had walked into our homes while we slept and fired a gun right into our bedrooms. It was a rude wake up call.

This night, 10 years ago, I lay in my bed for the first time feeling as though our country was not in fact untouchable.  We were capable of infiltration, and those who gave no concern for human kind would do there best to bring our nation to its knees.  Until this very day, I had never looked at the pictures of this attack. It made it too real for me. I just couldn't bare it in my heart. 

Today, I attended a services at New Haven Baptist Church. The service was to remember those who gave their lives on this day, and to honor men and women of service. Firefighters, EMTs, Police officers, and all other Rescue workers... This morning, I watched my husband dress in his fancy firefighter uniform, with his badges and his black dress shoes.  I never really thought of him in that way, but today I realized that if given a situation like that of 9/11, I know 100% that he would risk his life to help others just as any other full time fire fighter would do. As would all of his other fire fighter brothers and sisters. My heart broke for those families who lost their loved ones on this day, and  every day after from this senseless attack. What honor and bravery those men and women possessed.  What courage their families possessed in going on after they were left behind.

So today I looked at 10 years worth of pictures of a tragedy, and wept for those whose lives were lost, and those husbands, wives, children, moms, and dads who were left behind to mourn them and go on without them. 

I understand that there is speculation about these attacks.  Some people believe that there was some sort of conspiracy in the attacks, and that we weren't given all of the information. I don't know about you, but all I really need to know is that our country was attacked.  We were threatened on our own soil. Lives were lost. Children slept a little less easy. Parents worried a little more when they left their homes the next day. We were shaken, but we did not crumble. And we will never forget. We won't forget those who died, and we won't forget those who continue to fight for our country to this very day. We lived the history that our children will learn about in their text books, and their children after them. I pray that God keep his hand on our country so it never happens again

GOD BLESS AMERICA.

I'm Not Who I Was

I was driving to work one morning, when a song came on the radio. The first few bars went like this. "I wish you could see me now. I wish I could show you how, I'm not who I was." It got my mind working, and I started to think of all the people in my life who've gone on to be with Jesus. For that moment, I longed to see them again, and show them who I've become. A wife. A mother. A "Contributing member of society". Then I started to think of all of the important people in my life who have gone.

My paternal Grandfather, whom I never met. "Officially" anyway, passed  away when my dad was only 19.  My mom tells me that when I was just a little girl, I told her that a very tall man played with me in my room sometimes, and would ask me how my daddy was. Everyone liked to think it was him, coming to check up on his only granddaughter. It's more likely that I with my HUGE imagination dreamed this tall man up all on my own, but it's a neat thought.

My great grandparents (all of them) who passed away when I was just a tiny tot.

My maternal Grandfather. Who lived in Ohio, and was ill for most of my life. He passed away when I was 12. However, I do remember that he thought it was very funny that I was the only of all of his grandchildren who could hold my own when eating spicy foods. (The spicier, the better) "MY Granddaughter ain't no sissy!" He proclaim proudly. Then he'd chuckle to himself as if to say, she did get one thing from me.

My maternal Grandmother, whom I was very close to. All of my cousins swear to this very day that I was her favorite. Probably because I was the most respectful of all of them, and I listened to every single story she had to tell attentively. Even if the story was told to me 100 times, I never got tired of listening.  That lady could have written a book with the stories she had under her belt.

My cousin, Corporal Rusty Lee Washam, of the United States Marines. Killed in active duty in Iraq. I am and will always be proud of the example he set in his life. He was honorable and brave. Our last real conversation was our high school graduation day. I picked him up and we road there together that day.  I remember feeling proud of him then too, when he told me he was joining the Marines. "I'm gonna make something of myself. I want my family to be proud of me."

My two babies, whom God allowed be to carry for a short time but never hold. I know some day  I will understand why it had to be this way.

And Lastly, My dad. Whom I believe met my daughter, even though she was born almost 1 year to the day after his passing. His death changed me not for the worse, but for the better, as I learned how to be graceful in defeat. And to lean into the strength of the saviour when all hope seems to be lost.

In that moment, I wept for them all and wanted to see them again to show them the person I had become. I wanted to tell them all how their presence or rather absence in my life had shaped who I am. And then it hit me, as much as I have changed....They have changed so much more. They are with Christ. They have new bodies that aren't sick or decayed or wounded from the fight. And the bars in that song took a new meaning for me. It wasn't me who was singing to them the words of that song. Instead, in my mind, I could see each and every one of them singing to me "I wish you could see me now. I wish I could show you how, I'm not who I was..." Thank you Lord...another lesson learned. Praise His name.

 I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.

Psalms 37:25

Goldie Locks and The Three Kisses...

Since I was just a little girl, my head has always been in the clouds. A little like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, I skipped around singing to myself, and dreaming of when my prince will come. I just knew that I would find somebody to love. 

The very first boy who ever kissed me, was 5 years older than I. I knew it wouldn't last, but I wanted so badly to know how it felt to love someone. As I stared into his chocolate brown eyes, standing by the pond that summer, I decided to pretend that I was wrong. The moment was too perfect to waste. As he leaned in close to me, I puckered my lips and closed my eyes. To my surprise, I found that a kiss is a lot less closed eyes and puckered lips, and a lot more slobber and nose. (Ewww) I was the ripe old age of 11. The next day, "my prince charming" let me down easy by explaining to me that we weren't dating, just friends....with benefits.

It took me 3 years to get over the devastation.  And I didn't kiss another boy until my sophomore year of high school.

I was a little bit more prepared the second time. For one thing, he was actually my age. Also, he actually liked me, and the first time he kissed me was on the cheek. He was good to me, good to my parents, and we had a lot in common. I will always think of him as my first love, and remember him fondly.  But the first time he kissed me was absolutely laughable. He took me to see the movie U571. (about a submarine. yep, that's all I remember.) Halfway through the movie, he leaned over to kiss me. I closed my eyes, puckered my lips, and waited. Again, I was surprised to find this kiss a lot less closed eyes and puckered lips, and a lot more eyes wide open (NO KIDDING) and TEETH. I went home with a fat lip, and lied to my mom, telling her I got elbowed in the face.

Although the first kiss was terrible, the relationship was comfortable. But in the end, the truth was that we were more friends than anything else. It was fun while it lasted, but it was never meant to last. And I'm good with that.

It was all over for me the day that Daniel walked into my life. Even at 16 years old, I knew God had sent him to me. And on my 17th birthday, at a high school ballgame, in the pouring down snow, he kissed me. I closed my eyes, and said a prayer THEN puckered up. To my surprise AGAIN there was no slobber or honking nose or beety eyes looking at me or teeth. There was, however a perfect kiss with fireworks. That very moment, I never looked back. I knew right then that I had the one, the only, the perfect fit. I was so glad that it had never worked out with anyone else. When I think about it, sometimes I like to think of myself as Goldie Locks who tried all the chairs and all the porage and all the beds until she found the right one. I finally found my perfect mate, the perfect kiss, the perfect life, and I settled down and lived happily ever after.

Daniel- You are my best friend. The one. The only. There's no one like you. Never has been, never will be. I am so blessed to have you in my life, and our children are the greatest thing we have ever accomplished.  I love you.

The Promise

Carley, Caleb, and their cousin Elijah.



Two years ago today, God blessed me in a big way. I found out that I was gonna have a second bundle of joy to add to my family. This came as a huge surprise to me, because I had been told by several doctors after Caleb was born that he might be my only.  It took great prayer, fasting, and just plain hard work to get him here, and it was highly unlikely that we would be so lucky a second time, and even if we were so lucky I may not be able to carry the baby to term. 

After being told this, I set out to be happy with my tiny little family.  In the mean time my dad became ill, and it became hard to even imagine another child with everything that was happening at that time. Then dad passed on in May, and we mourned our loss, myself especially.  I cried and prayed and screamed and yelled and cried some more. For two solid months I cried myself to sleep every single night.  Then this August morning exactly two years ago, God nudged me as if to say to my heart in that still small voice of his, "Stacey, it's time to come out of the dark. Your dad is with me now, he is happy. It's time you got back to raising your family. Let this be well with your soul."

Now, I don't know about you, but it's very hard for me to let anything be well with MY soul.  It just doesn't come natural to me to put everything in the Master's hands and leave it there. I kneel down, lay my burden down, pray about it, and most of the time when I'm through I pick it right back up and take it with me.  But on this day two years ago, I said to God, "How? How are you going to bring me out of the dark?"  That morning, I drove Caleb to the babysitter, and then myself to work. I was so frantic, because the next morning we were supposed to leave for the beach. I was racing, racing, racing everywhere. I barely made it to work before I became overwhelmingly nauseated. And with a little nudging from a co-worker, and even more nudging from God, I found myself in the grocery line with an EPT in my hand. 

That day, I realized, I had come full circle.  I began my journey with a desire for a child that almost broke my heart. And God not only answered my prayer once, but with TWO little blessings. And just as my dad was leaving us, God gave us a fresh new face to love. 

God has never ceased to prove himself to me.  He has always known what is best for me, in spite of what I think that may be. And in the midst of the darkness, he shines the light.  He loves me more than I deserve, and I am so glad I have that promise that he will never leave me. Knowing this, I am sure I will never be alone. What a blessing to know, that nomatter what our lives throw at us, we have a friend that will never die, never leave us, always have time for us, and always care for us.

Carley Larryssa Bell

You've been sleeping in your own bed since the day we brought you home from the hospital. But you love to be held and cuddled and loved. You love your brother, and think he is funny. You have your Poppa Larry's left ear. Some day you will hate this about yourself because that ear kind of looks like an elf's ear, and that makes me giggle because I like to think that your Poppa asked God to give you that to let us know that even though he didn't get to see you on this earth, he still knew you and loved you.

You are very adventurous and love to explore, but some days you are very content just sitting beside me on the couch watching "Bubble Guppies". You don't giggle very often. As a matter of fact, you are very serious most of the time. You study people, and watch people. This leads me to believe that you have the gift of discernment (or will have when you reach the age of accountability and accept Christ as your saviour. And I trust you will, because I love the Lord and he promised me so.) When you do decide to laugh, it's is like a gentle melody ringing in my ears, and I could listen to it all day.

You are tender hearted and kind, and I know that you get that from your Grammy. You hurt when others hurt, you cry when others cry (literally), and you are happy when others are happy. Just like your Grammy.  In your very short life, you have taught me so much about being a mother. It's easy being a mother to you, because you are so forgiving of me and my not so perfect mothering. I see in your eyes love that has no need to be expressed. It only needs to be communicated between us two, from heart to heart, smile to smile, laugh to laugh, and hug to hug. Just like your dad and me.

My dream for you is for you to have all you desire in life, and that God bless you in all your endeavors. I hope with all that I am, that you will never give up or say "I quit". Never sell yourself short, or say "I don't think I'm worth it". Because, my baby girl, God made you in all your flaws and imperfections, and he loved you for exactly who you were gonna be. He will use whomever you become so long as you let him. And if someday, you find yourself raising a little girl or boy like I have you and your brother, I hope you realize how incredibly lucky you are. As well as realize how wonderfully lucky I was to be allowed to raise you.

He Leadeth Me...

Today, I watched an episode of the Dr. Phil show of a mother who used unusual punishment on her child. She punished her child in the following ways:

• hot sauce in the mouth for lying
• cold shower for disobeying
• locked in your room for back talking

..............this child is 5..........
After seeing this, I was in TEARS! For one thing, I was so upset that this little boy was being abused that I just wanted to reach through the television and grab the MOTHER and knock her in the head with something.

There are days when my son Caleb tries my patience in every single way. There are days when he doesn't listen to a single word out of my mouth. Some days he throws things while crying uncontrollably when I correct him for something. He says he hates me. He thinks he can "parent" my daughter. He throws the "prettiest" tantrums I have ever seen, and I promise you that any child who tried to challenge him in this area would lose. (and I am not proud of that) But honestly, there is not a single thing he could do that would make me do any of the above to him. 

Acting out is a part of growing up. It's how we learn boundaries, and if we aren't correcting our children's misbehaving, then we aren't doing our jobs.  But the number 1 job we have as parents is LOVING them. When we love them like we should, and when we seek God in our lives, all of the rest just falls into place. We make mistakes as God's children, every day. And if he punished us the way we punish our children, we might be grounded for life. But He shows us patience and mercy. So, I think I'm gonna try to do the same with my kids.

All of this has shown me that there are areas in my parenting that I could definitely improve. I'm not abusive with my children by ANY means. But some days, when I feel so very alone in my parenting, all I want to do is run away and cry my eyes out. That is the moment when I need to stop, take a deep breath, and say a prayer. Because God knows exactly who we are, and what we need and he loves me just like I love my babies. (Even when I kick and scream and cry after not getting my way.)

 Above all, I have realized that the most important thing for me to improve on is my patience with my children. They are a gift from God, not a right to have, and someday they will be gone. So from now on, I'm going to parent them by giving them my time, my love, my acceptance, and above all else, leading by example. And look to God for all of the answers. I may not be like the mother on that t.v. show, but there is always room for improvement.

Do All Dogs Go To Heaven Momma?

A few months ago, Daniel brought home a new member of the family. A boxer puppy who Caleb named Tonka. He quickly became part of the family, and even I (NOT A DOG PERSON) loved him very much. We all loved him, but it became obvious that he was Caleb's dog.
"He's my best buddy Momma, I love him!!" Caleb would say....

Yesterday evening, our puppy, Tonka was hit by a car and passed away.  Caleb didn't see. So Daniel and I sat down with him to explain what happened to Tonka. The conversation went a little something like this.

"Caleb, you know how Tonka liked to chase cars?" Daniel asked, as he held him in his lap and I sobbed in the corner.
"Yeah, Daddy, He likes to chase cars don't he. He's funny." Caleb answered.
"Well, today Tonka ran in front of a car and it hit him, and it hurt him really bad. So, Tonka died, and went to heaven." Daniel said gently.
Caleb of course began to cry, and then he asked. "Well, can we go to heaven and get him?"
"No, honey, Tonka can't go back. But we can go to him some day." I finally said.
"But I'm really gonna miss him. He was my best buddy." Caleb cried.
"I know buddy." I said.
And with that, we all cried for Tonka.

Today Caleb has had a lot of questions for me.

• Is Tonka in the sky.
• Can God send him back? Because I really wanna play with him.
• Is it dark in heaven. (To which I happily answered. "No way. Heaven is bright, and Jesus is there. Everyone is happy, and no one ever dies)
• Can we just go visit Tonka?
• When are we gonna be able to go to heaven?
• Do all dog's go to heaven?

I don't really know what the right way to handle this would have been for Caleb. I never want to lie to him. And I realize that some people would say that is exactly what I did when I told him Tonka was in heaven. The truth is, we don't know for sure what happens when our animals die. Do they just go away? Probably. But a 3 year old would not understand that, and I hope that God knows that I did the best I could with what I had.  The thing is, I mourned for Caleb's loss more than I mourned for Tonka.  He is my baby, my goal in life is to always protect him. His feelings, his life, his heart, his body, and his mind...and I will do that as best I know how.

TonkaTonk--you will be greatly missed. You were a good dog.

(Quote from the Movie Marley and Me)
 You know how we're always saying what a pain you are, you're the world's worst dog, don't believe it, don't believe it for one minute because you know we couldn't find a better dog, I love you, more than anything, you're a great dog, I love you.