Heartbreaker.

Dear Nana and Grampa,

Thanks so much for my new Valentine's Day outfit.



Also, thanks to you, Mom's been singing me Mariah Carey tunes all morning long. This is the face I make so as not to encourage her, but also not to squelch her dreams.



Please send help.

Love,

Ben

Wasted.

Why do they even bother printing an expiration date on these things?



Seriously? Is anyone able to keep them in their pantry longer than a week? What a waste of ink.

Nine.

Dear Ben,

Today you are nine months old! How did that happen? It's hard to believe you were "inside" growing as long as you've been "outside." What they say is true; all that puking and aching and stretching and waddling seems like such a foggy, distant memory now. No wonder women go back and do it all over again.

Here you are a year ago:


Here you are today:


Your ninth month was a big one. You spent time with all four of your grandparents, two of your great-grandparents, celebrated your first Christmas and your first new year, caught your first major cold, began sleeping ten hour stretches at night, and started really, truly, officially crawling.

Initially I thought you might skip crawling because you just kind of rolled and scooted and seemed content with it. One day you actually began doing something that resembled a crawl, but you were only moving your right leg and you just dragged your left leg along. Hilarious. (Don't worry, I got video to show your prom dates). After a few days of that, you got everything working in sync and you're pretty much unstoppable now. You follow me from room to room as I put away laundry. You open and close every door and play with every door stop. I am frantically mopping and sweeping and vacuuming. Whew.

Now that you're crawling, we can't slow you down. Here's proof from when I was trying to take your picture today:


You just couldn't figure out why I would possibly want you to sit still.


Every time I put you back on your bottom, you were back on all fours before I could snap a picture.





You constantly want to be held, but never snuggled. If anyone sits on the floor to play with you, you'd like to be in their lap, thank you very much. You love reading books, but especially ones with flaps or different textures you can feel. You're a hit at the grocery store, too. Other shoppers and checkers stop and smile at you and comment on your funny hair, your big blue eyes, those (gasp) dimples! Sometimes you smile and flirt back, and other times you get shy and embarrassed and bury your head in my stomach. You love sound effects of any kind.

You've changed my prayer life, for sure. I spend hours begging God to keep you safe, to keep you healthy, to make you strong, and to give you a heart that loves Him. I also spend hours searching for the right words to tell God how thankful I am for the precious, perfect gift of you. Thankfully, He knows how our hearts overflow with love and gratitude for you, our little buddy.

Just a few nights ago Daddy and I were laying in bed and Dad said, "Isn't our little family just the absolute best?" I have to agree. Everything is sweeter with you.

I'm getting gushy and probably even Grandma hasn't read this far, so I'll conclude and simply say these nine months have rocked me, but they have been the very best of my life. Something tells me it's only gonna get better.

I love you, buddy.

Mom

Changed.

I'm writing this post in response to a video dozens of my friends have posted on Facebook. The video "Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus" has gone viral over the last two days.

Having grown up in church, I've had a front row seat to some of the problems religion and legalism create. I felt compelled to respond specifically to one thing Jefferson says:

"The problem with religion is that it never gets to the core.
It's just behavior modification with a long list of chores."

So true. Religion doesn't change us, but loving Jesus does. When the core of us is changed, our behaviors and attitudes begin to reflect that change.

We can't confuse the freedom we have in Jesus with a license to behave however we want.

Paul made this very point to the church in Galatia. Galatians 5:13 says, "You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the sinful nature."

He goes on to say in Romans 5:19, "The acts of the sinful nature are obvious; sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God."

When we truly love Jesus, we hate our sin because we realize how it grieves Him.

When we truly love Jesus, our behaviors are naturally modified because we desire to honor and obey Him, and because we trust that the behaviors He commands of us are ultimately for our good.

Because I love Jesus, I will speak kindly to those I disagree with politically.

Because I love Jesus, I will dress in a way that honors God.

Because I love Jesus, I will turn off the television to guard my heart and my mind.

Because I love Jesus, I will speak honestly.

Because I love Jesus, I will give to the poor.

Because I love Jesus, I will take care of my body.

Because I love Jesus, I will fight for my marriage and honor my vows.

Because I love Jesus, I will not have too much to drink.

And on and on and on. I don't do these things because my religion commands them, I do these things because my God commands them. Is it always easy? Of course not. Do I mess up every day? Have you met me?

I ask God for grace and mercy to flee from sin and walk humbly with Him. These good works will not save me, but the fact that Jesus saved me demands a response from me.

An apple tree produces apples. An orange tree produces oranges. Someone who loves Jesus and has the Holy Spirit living inside of them produces "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control" (Galatians 5:22).

We reject self-righteousness, but we live righteously. We live differently. Jesus has changed us. When we truly love Jesus, others will know it.

Choosy.

Breakfast this morning:

- Yogurt and blueberry puree: Rejected

- Apple and banana puree: Rejected

- Peach and pear puree: Rejected

- Chicken and black bean puree: Devoured

Here's our little food critic enjoying carrots and beets the this weekend:



Dwight Schrute would be proud.

Joy.

Read this in Acts 16 this morning:

"The jailer brought them into his house and set a meal before them; he was filled with joy because he had come to believe in God—he and his whole household" (v.34).

Thankful that when we know the TRUE God and BELIEVE what He says, we are filled with joy.

Zoo!

If there's anything worth documenting for posterity, it's Ben's first trip to the zoo, right???

I suggested getting a zoo membership as a Christmas gift for Ben, but Tim insisted Ben is still too little to appreciate it. When one of our friends invited us to go along today, I was anxious to go and see what Ben would think of the whole deal. Plus, I was pretty anxious to get out after being couped up in the house, covered in boogers and snot for four straight days.

One of the things that has really surprised me about parenthood is all the childhood songs I didn't realize were tucked away in my brain. I remembered one this morning and sang it to Ben the whole time we drove to Fort Worth.

I'm going to the zoo, zoo, zoo
How about you, you, you?
You can come too, too, too
I'm going to the zoo, zoo, zoo.

Ben liked my song.

Here he is while we're waiting to get in. Can you sense the excitement?



"Okay, here, you can chew on your sunglasses." Much better.



It turns out Tim was right (as usual). Ben really didn't understand what he was supposed to be looking at. Instead of watching the elephants throw dirt all over themselves, he wanted to try to stand on the wooden safety rails.

Here are Ben and Brayden "enjoying" the meerkat exhibit.

"Hey dude, sweet ride."

"Thanks, man. I like yours, too."



Regardless of the fact that Ben didn't seem to appreciate the elephants (or the zebras, or the rhinos, or the coyotes, or the hippos, or the gazelles, or the flamingos, or the alligators) Bethany and I had a great time walking and talking and soaking in the beautiful 74 degree day (January 6th, WHAT?!?). The perfect weather made me a little nostalgic about living in San Diego all those years ago.



Despite being less than enthused by the wildlife, all the fresh air wore our little boy out.



Thanks, Bethany and Brayden, for a fun day out!

Truth.

"Worship is not a feeling. Worship is not an experience. Worship is an act, and it takes discipline. We are to worship 'in spirit and in truth.' Nevermind about the feelings. We are to worship in spite of them."

- Elizabeth Elliot, Let Me Be A Woman

Snotty.

The highlight of 2012 so far is our new snot sucker. That should tell you a little about how the last four days have gone in our house.


I would imagine being a parent and not owning a snot sucker is like being a carpenter without a hammer. Probably. Because that's what I felt like just two days ago. My son had the Niagara Falls of all runny, goopy, slimy, disgusting noses, and all I had was the little blue bulb syringe they send you home from the hospital with. It was like trying to bail out the Titanic with a ladle until Tim ran to Buy Buy Baby and exchanged the best $14.99 we've ever spent for this silly little piece of plastic tubing. It works miracles, I tell ya.

Ben's not as big a fan as we are. He protests, but we persevere. Ben screams and yells the whole time I'm pinning his arms and holding his head still between my knees and wondering why God didn't give parents an extra limb. He's not hurt, he's just mad. And miserable, because he can't breathe. I yell for Tim. Tim attempts to delicately place the tube against Ben's nose while Ben flails wildly. It's like wrestling snakes. Finally, success! Tim sucks the snot out. What is so oddly satisfying about watching those big globs of disgusting goop extracted from such teeny tiny nostrils? We sit back, sweating, and Ben sits up, breathes through his nose, smiles at us, and goes back to hammering his puzzle pieces until we repeat the process again twenty minutes later.

Between December 24th and January 1st we were in contact with approximately 423 friends and family members. One of them is responsible for the snot that has taken over our home. I can't be sure exactly which one. Sure, I have my suspicions, but since I can't pinpoint the perpetrator I'm considering declining all future invitations, tin-foiling our windows, and becoming happy, healthy shut-ins. If this seems extreme to you, it's because you've never had a sick baby before.

It gets even worse than the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad fountain of snot gushing from my little Ben's nose. Some of our dearest friends gave birth to a beautiful baby girl yesterday in a hospital just a few miles from our house. Guess who had to stay very, very far away? Yep. Me. I'm dying.

In the meantime, until I can get my hands on that precious, perfect little bundle, I'll have the snot-sucker as a consolation prize.