Firey trial for His Glory.

 Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. 

As an American woman living though one of the most financially devastating times in our country's history, I've spent a lot of time the last few years afraid of what may happen to me. In the height of the real estate market, I leveraged myself to the hilt, proud of myself for having a great job and making money, and proud of myself for being a homeowner at 22. In 2008, my home's value plummeted by over half!
Today, we are teetering on the fence of going into foreclosure or skating by with a short-sale, as I can no longer afford to pay for it. Should I be surprised? Maybe. I'm young enough to claim naivete at the time of buying this place. But if this mess hadn't happened, would there just have been a different one? I bet.

I've spent a lot of my life oppressed by worry, and it seems that just as one worry is gone, another shows its ugly face. But most of the time, I end up "borrowing trouble" as my mother used to call it. I spend so much energy on the anxiety, that my mind actually suffers the pain of the possible outcome, and most of the time the worst case scenario doesn't even happen. Why can't I just trust God?

I know that God is my Father, and loves me like a daughter (and thus, wouldn't want any harm to come to me). But I'm struggling with that. If that is true, than one of two things is also true. God either has no control over the bad things that have happened to me; or he has some kind of redemptive plan that I just can't see yet to work it all out for my good. I know the former is a lie, but it would make it it easier for me to love God and take comfort in his presence, but I wouldn't feel safe with Him. Knowing that the latter is true, then I will continue to feel stuck and frustrated in the waiting.  The bible says to "cast all your anxieties on Him, because he cares for you" 1Peter 5:7. In this, I can hope for some comfort, like a little girl in her daddy's lap crying from a skinned knee. But He's not going to shelter me from every bit of hardship or trial. This is how He shows me a glimpse of the suffering that Christ endured to save me.  I guess, in a little way, that makes me feel special.

Just a little

to the left. Or right. Sorry, no. Your other right. OK turn toward me a little. Good.

   So this isn't the first time I've worked and gotten paid for my art, but today I used the words for the first time. I said "professional" in reference to myself as a photographer.

   I'm standing quite vulnerably the doorway of a potential client, heavily laden with camera equipment on my first day in the hospital by myself, asking to come in and do their photo shoot. After I let them know that their pictures would be beautiful... the dad says to the mom, "You have your own digital camera, you can take pictures of her," as he points to the point-and-shoot camera in the mom's purse.

 What??

Yep. He said that

I promptly replied, almost interrupting him but not, "the hospital provides you with a photo shoot from a professional photographer, which would be me".

There. I said it. It is true technically. I did get paid to do it.

I've been putting off saying it out loud, because I thought that somehow, by admitting this title, this label, I would be accountable to commit to it. And I feared that somehow, I might loose my interest as soon as the "goal" became my "reality". I have been good at other things in life, and enjoyed them immensely, such as singing, and dancing. But I never really had the guts to make my passion part of my living. Part of my existence. I always had the fear that as soon as it became my job, then I would immediately lose all enjoyment for my art, whether it be singing or making images.

Well. It is day one. I'm not jaded yet. I had fun. But I think I took more steps per hour than a waitress at happy hour. Good thing I like to work out.

I'm praying that I can stick to this. I can BS myself into anything, but when the rubber meets the road, do I have what it takes? Fake it till you make it, and quit when you do. How do I know this will be any different?

I hope so.

I've just never been able to stick to anything before.

Thankful and Transitional

This morning, upon waking up, I did what is now my morning routine. Zachary cried around 6, so I pulled myself up to get him and feed him. Then once he fell back asleep, I got up and made a sandwich for Matt's lunch, complete with two mandarine oranges, a banana and a Zone bar (the peanut butter kind). I put my coffee in the microwave, weighed myself and sat down in my dining room/office to listen to my bible verses on iTunes, next to the wall heater underneath the window that has a "For Sale" sign in it.


up for another cup. Set timer.. 1:00. DING. I really must recommend Hershey's unsweetened cocoa + Truvia + Pacific Vanilla Soy milk in your coffee. It makes for a verrrrry low calorie mocha that tastes just like the real thing. But I digress...


Two months ago, I would have been on my way to work, to sit at a desk for 8 hours with nothing to do.


I'm not shocked that I was laid off, and I'm not sad. However, I do feel that I am in an ethereal state of transition. I don't know what God has planned for the rest of my life, or even the rest of this year. All my life, I wanted was to be a Stay-at-Home-Mom, who got up every morning to make her husband's lunch and save money by reheating yesterday's coffee.


And now I am just that. Proverbs 31 has a lot to say about being a godly woman, and I don't think I will ever achieve all of the things she does. But for my personality which views achievement as a form of narcotic, I will fixate on that list as something to which I can aspire, and be thankful that I can live in that realm. Thank you God for answering my prayer.

My Sophie

Sophie the Giraffe. She's soft. She's cute. And if you squeeze her just a little... she toots.

Zachary loooooves this toy. He's been teething for like, 6 months, I swear!

He chews on her ears

and antlers

and feet.

Hasn't figured out the squeeking thing yet.

I feel bad that I continually call it his "chew toy"

Click here to get one. It's worth it!

Christi's Baby Shower

Sausages and fun

Seriously... this should be illegal. But it's not. And it's good. So there.

my munchkin

Can't wait for this face to be the one I look at all day every day.

Foot Massage, Pineapples, Walking, Oh My!

What to these three things have in common? They don't put you in labor. OK so, I'm not due for 8 more days if I listen to what my DR. said...(what does she know, right?)But if you go by counting 40 weeks from the first day of your last period, then I'm due tomorrow.

So, from my logic, I should be ready to start trying out all those old wives tales. And I have... all of them! Well, yeah. All of them.
Last Friday, I got a foot massage from a reflexologist, and lo and behold 2 hours later I went into what convinced me was labor for 12 hours. Lo and behold again... my contractions stopped and I'm still pregnant 3 days later.

Yesterday I tried eating pineapples. I read that it stimulates prostaglandin: the hormone that ripens your cervix. I ate enough of the stuff to burn a hole in the sun.
Still pregnant.

Walking... I walked on Saturday morning, while I was still having contractions from the foot massage the night before, and I'm pretty sure that that is what stopped them. I walked for over an hour. Not one real contraction since.

ufhhhhhhhh. Do i really have to wait for the baby to do what he wants? Aren't I the parent? I always did what my mom told me to do. Why not this little boy. Come out, I say. OUT.

I might try the foot massage thing again tomorrow as that is my REAL due date, right? Or maybe acupuncture. I don't have time for another pretend labor.

Wet Sticky Hot and Heavy

No, I’m not talking about a dirty movie. I was describing my living room, my kitchen… my bedroom and …. Myself. Today was the Hottest Day EVER. No exaggeration. I’m not even kidding. The temperature reading in my car was a stifling 103˚F in the shade, and 110˚F everywhere else. This is day 3 of the Seattle heat wave with one more to go before we cool down to a chilling 87 on Friday. The good news is, I’ve drank so much water that I actually lost weight from last week. Wait gain now: 43 lbs. The other good news is that in my office at work, I have the only working air conditioner right above my head. When I arrived this morning the HVAC system was working so hard that it sounded like the boiler room of the Titanic. I feared it would soon fail, and lo and behold, it did. The office I’m referring to is one of those with a million windows so when the AC isn’t working, it turns into a solar oven. Really. It does. It’s even sort of arc-shaped, giving it qualities much like that of a parabolic heater, which is sort of ironic for a power plant construction company. We could build a solar plant in the parking lot with all the mirrored windows on this place…
But I digress…
What is really ironic though, is God’s sense of humor. For 15 years (since I moved here from California) I’ve been praying for a warmer climate, praying to move to a warmer climate or just get rid of the rain. Of course, what does he do? He gives it to me, with a mighty laugh,”muah ha-ha ha”.
Figures.

When did I move to Cancun?

When Did I Move to Cancun?
24 days to go and I’m doing great! I have minimal backaches, my feet are only ½ size bigger than normal, I’ve only gained 47 lbs and my bouts of intermittent vomiting have ceased momentarily. The oddest of oddities is occurring though with my environment. It might be a side effect of pregnancy, but I’m not sure. Somehow, sometime last week, I went to bed and woke up in Cancun, but without the beer. Everything around me looked exactly like Seattle, mind you, so naturally I’m very confused because it has been over 90F for the past 3 days with 100F temperatures forecasted for the next 3 days. Hence, I’m forced to believe that one of two events has occurred: Earth has moved closer to the sun; or somehow my whole town has beamed itself to Mexico, Star Trek style.
Normally, this would be a great thing. I would be jumping for joy. There is only one thing convincing me that my conclusions are incorrect: whoever beamed us over here didn’t beam any air conditioners. Cancun has air conditioners. Seattle definitely does not.
Can you guess which report is for Mexico, and which is for Seattle?

My name is Mary. I have a dog named Joey. Nice to meet you.

This morning I woke up with a bloody eye. Yes that’s a little extreme of a description, but the word “popped blood vessel” just doesn’t seem to capture my horror upon looking at myself in the mirror today. To introduce myself: My name is Mary and I’m 25 years old. I’m a Sagittarius, I hate asparagus, and up until just a few months ago, I had a whole different plan for life.



In August of last year, having a great job with wonderful career potential, I got married to the love of my life, Matt. We planned that we would enjoy the precious first years of marriage as DINKS. We were going to have lavish cocktail parties, join a flag football team, get out of debt with the Dave Ramsey plan, save some money and possibly take some of Rick Steve’s advice and go to Venice. ZOOM forward to December. It’s my 25th birthday, and I just so happen to swing by Walgreen's for some nail polish and an E.P.T. test: just to make sure. But to my surprise, that second line… which never showed up (I always sort of secretly wished it would show up by accident as a teenager) was right there staring at me with its little pink eyes. Which, to add ambivalence to an already confusing moment, meant that I could not enjoy my favorite glass of wine I had so been looking forward to that week. And for a wine lover… you actually forget the joyous reason why you can’t have your Syrah in the first place, and for just a minute, you pout.



And boy did I pout. But not just because I had to cancel my wine club membership or that I was about to gain some serious poundage: I was scared. See, I was not the woman who ran to the drugstore every month to get a pregnancy test, drove home in hopeless anticipation and cried when it came up negative. I desperately wanted to be a mom, but LATER. Despite the fact that I did jump up and down and giggle when the second faint pink line appeared, this was not the right time. I was not ready. I was freaking out!



Here I am today, eight months later. I’m pleased to say that I’m so excited for my little boy to come into the world that I could pee my pants. Hypothetically, of course… But the drama has just begun.

Example: this morning I woke up with a bloody eye. That’s because last night, I had morning sickness. Yes. Last night… at 36 weeks pregnant. Something that nobody tells you is that you actually get morning sickness again in your 9th month. Hello SURPRISE! One minute I’m waiting for the last hour of my work day to end, munching on my favorite apple… the next… I’m throwing my purse on the floor in a frenzied rush to the toilet. Toilet meets face = eye explodes.



So this is me. Life is changing: for the better I imagine, but changing nonetheless. And these are the stories of my metamorphosis from Hot to Momma.