It's weird I know, but I'm trying it out.

Yesterday I was talking to one the sisters at our little chapel. I was describing how bad the morning sickness was (I threw up three times while we were there) and how I think it's caused by the excess mucus and drainage, but also when I eat any dairy I get sick pretty much ASAP. So she says, "Don't have milk products and don't have any wheat. Do this for 90 days." Well, 90 days would pretty much bring me to the average stopping point of my morning sickness (19 weeks gestation) so I said to myself, "Why not? I don't have anything to lose, do I?"

Here I am, day 1 of this new "diet" and I woke up in fear of the bathroom. I clung to Larry (who had to use the bathroom really badly- oh the things he puts up with from me) and basically said to him, "if I let go I'm going to throw up." Thankfully I haven't and I'm feeling much better and I'll tell you the reason. Now, my usual wake-up routine contains a cup of chai tea with 2% or skim milk and yesterday's chai came right back up and I felt awful for the rest of the day. This morning I put the chai mixture (from a box) in half a cup of rice-milk that I made last night with the vita-mix my awesome mother-in-law let me borrow for a few weeks. It didn't taste the same, but tada- I'm not rushing to the sink/toilet/trashcan. It didn't taste bad- just different. THEN I made myself a "veggie drink" in the vita-mix with red bell pepper, celery, spinach, and apples. It tasted like a veggie drink (the bell peppers are very powerful!) but I'm on here and not in the bathroom. My verdict... vegetables and rice milk help ALOT! Yesterday morning I had milk and eggs (not that protein isn't important because it IS!) and I threw up four times before noon. If I can make it to noon without throwing up I'll know it's because of the lack of milk (and veggies and fruits don't hurt).

I don't feel nauseated right now! This in and of itself is miraculous! With Phoebe I gained almost 40 lbs. and with Stephen (after losing 10 lbs and gaining it back) about 50lbs. I know the reason I gained so much weight (at least I think so) is because in the first trimester I only ate what would stay down or make me feel better for a few minutes or frankly what would NOT taste awful coming back up, but this meant that I was putting chips and salsa in my body on a pretty much constant basis- sad but true. And after the first trimester (and some of the second) my body basically went into "give me everything in sight" mode. I made huge mistakes in the first trimester that cost me in the second and third trimesters. Not this time! This time is going to be different! This time I'm going to start off right! This time I'm gonna make sure I learn the hard lesson of "it does matter what I eat in the first trimester, even if it comes back out!".

Okay, tomorrow starts week 8. My morning sickness with Phoebe lasted until week 17 and with Stephen, week 22. This means I have about 3 more months of nausea. This means the 90 days that I'm going to try this "diet" out are going to mean a huge deal. No milk, no wheat. A friend of mine has told me that she has a great spelt recipe that she's going to give me along with some spelt flour (it's actually quite expensive in the stores- so THIS is a huge blessing!) Yup- you guessed it... I will be baking my own bread from now on. Spelt bread in the stores is more expensive and you have to look at certain stores since it's not sold everywhere. Thankfully the same friend gave me a BOSCH as a wedding gift. :-) This also is a chance to start baking with Phoebe and give us the opportunity to do some homemaking together. :-)

My hope is that the nausea will subside earlier with Shiloh and that my body will be a healthier "house". If you believe in prayer- please pray for me. I'm an average american who usually eats the average american diet. I will have struggles in this journey to change what I've known for so long and the transition may be harder than I expect, but hopefully not. Be praying for little Shiloh too. My goal is a healthy baby and everything I do to my body will be for that purpose. :-)

Why? Why Not?

I'm in my 7th week... the pregnancy symptoms are on the up and up and I actually "look" pregnant (even though it's bloating- Shiloh is not big enough for me to be showing yet.) All these are good signs, right?

Well... as any pregnant mother will tell you, the first trimester is pretty scary. This is when 80% of miscarriage occurs and there's really nothing you can do about it. 20% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage and if this were to happen to me- I wouldn't be the only one who's been through it. But it is still scary. I told Larry last night about my fear and he told me, "Why don't you take it to the Lord?" He is the great Healer and Comforter after all- so why not? I just laid there and said a silent little prayer. "Help me not to be afraid and help me to trust You." With Phoebe, I stopped exercising for a few weeks because I spotted (which was actually implantation bleeding but I didn't know that). With Stephen (I experienced implantation bleeding again), we went to the ER because I thought I felt something was wrong and I feared miscarriage (which was actually bacterial vaginosis and I developed it again in the 3rd trimester). With Phoebe I saw her at 6 weeks via sonogram at a pregnancy center. With Stephen, I saw him at 10 weeks in the ER. So here I am again... that weird feeling- that fearful feeling- creeps back. I wonder if I just saw Shiloh, would that make me not worry? Seeing would be believing. But Jesus said, blessed are those who believe without seeing (well, He didn't exactly mean it in this context, but it's applicable).

Pregnancy didn't really sink in for me with my two previous little ones until I saw the little moving entity in those ultrasound rooms. But this baby... this baby has already become so real. I look at my beautiful daughter and my incredibly cute son and I think to myself, "Shiloh is like them. One day he/she will be in my arms, then crawling, and then walking and talking!" This pregnancy is sooo different in one major way. It feels real to me even though I don't see them. The fear of miscarriage is so palpable because Shiloh is so real to me.

Where do I run? Who can I turn to? No person can tell me it's going to be alright and know completely for sure that everything is going to be alright. Only One can give me peace. Only One can comfort me as I walk down this dim path. I trusted Him with my body before becoming pregnant and I trusted Him carrying me through labor and delivery. Why of all times would I not trust Him with Shiloh's little life? Shiloh is His gift to me. He allowed me to become pregnant and enjoy this gift... not just enjoy Shiloh's presence after they enter this world, but Shiloh was given to me for me to enjoy him/her in the now, even though I don't see them. There's a reason God has allowed me to feel the reality of pregnancy without seeing them. I need to trust that the purpose is for my benefit and more importantly for His glory.

Oh me of little faith. Help my unbelief. Give me peace and let my soul rest in You. Thank You for Your gift to me... my little Shiloh. Protect him/her and if it be in Your will, let me see him/her with my own eyes in August.

Sinking In

Now that I've had a day or two to let the reality of Shiloh sink in, here are some thoughts. Bare with me... placenta brain has already taken control (even though the placenta is actually still growing and forming).

One major difference from my other two pregnancies is that I weigh 15 lbs less than I did with Phoebe at this stage and 12 lbs less than I did with Stephen. I feel healthier and have a tad bit of energy that I didn't have with my previous two (which all my mommy-friends know makes a world of difference). My goal after having Stephen was to get healthier in preparation for the next go-round (whenever that would be). So here I am healthier and ready for the next 8 1/2 months! :-)

Another major difference is that "the ladies" don't hurt. With Phoebe, I was miserable. With Stephen, it was pretty bad. This time they don't hurt at all. That kinda made me want to freak out, but EVERY PREGNANCY IS DIFFERENT. I have to remind myself that every now and again.

I guess the one thing (out of many things!) that I am thankful for right now is that my belly has not expanded like it did with my other two (mostly from bloating). At this point with both kiddos I was already having a hard time fitting into my old clothes. I don't know at what point I'll have to purchase a belly band to expand the life of my current wardrobe, but it'll be fun when I do. The fact that my pregnancy clothes are actually scattered around the country right now doesn't pay me no mind. In fact- my previous pregnancy wardrobe catered to babies being born in winter or spring (and a much larger Mommy). My little summer-due Shiloh has given me an excuse to purchase a new pregnancy wardrobe (not new clothes of course- consignment stores are awesome!). Exciting!

With all these wonderful little differences I am brought back to the reality that not much has changed as I look back on my previous pregnancies. I still get nervous when I "spot" and when those little gas bubbles "flutter" in my pelvis- I am reminded of the little kicks that I once stood still for. I still worry about the "what if's" and if I'll actually see little Shiloh in August. I still think about how Phoebe and now Stephen will react to their new sibling and if they will love Shiloh as much as they love each other. I let my imagination wander as to the gender and what names would suit this little person. With Phoebe we didn't take long to pick out a girl name and boy name. So when we found out Stephen was a boy, we just used the name we would've given Phoebe if she had been a boy. BUT now I have to start from square one- that's exciting! :-D As an "experienced" baby care-giver, I've already decided two things (if everything goes well). I will be nursing and I will be cloth diapering. Yay! Stephen will still be in diapers at that point, but we might be in the potty training process so we'll see. :-)

For those who are curious, I have not had morning sickness in it's full-blown form yet. I've had a few waves of nausea, but for the most part I'm not "sick". For that simple fact, I am EXTREMELY thankful. My sense of smell has skyrocketed and the headaches have begun already. :-p My nasal drainage (which was a plague with Stephen's pregnancy) has begun and I hope it's simply allergies. I'm not exhausted yet, but I'm getting there and my back hurts when I wake up. These are all wonderful little things that tell me that the hormones are increasing and this gives me a bit of comfort.

Hospital birth versus Birth Center vs Home birth:

With Phoebe, as many of you are well aware, we had planned a home-birth. When my labor didn't start after my water broke- we ended up in the hospital, induced labor and needed an epidural (which resulted in spinal headaches- blah). Needless to say, I still struggle with that fact.

With Stephen, we decided to just be in the hospital if the same thing happened. My water broke again, but labor started within 2 hours- still irregular contractions and he pooped in-utero. Doctor freaked out and gave me pitocin and from there- epidural (at leas I got to a 7 beforehand!).

I've told everyone that natural labor and delivery is my heart's earnest desire for Shiloh (obviously- if I need to go to the hospital in an emergency I WILL!) We've decided that a birth center is our best option. I hated going into the hospital- I didn't trust my doctor whole-heartedly and I don't think he liked me much. The staff wouldn't let me bring my Phoebe (oh poor Phoebe) to the appointments and I didn't feel right being there. On the other hand- we probably won't do a home-birth, the closest hospital is the one I delivered Stephen at and as nice as they were... I don't want to go there again. The birth center is four minutes away from University (which is where I delivered Phoebe) and is a great hospital in emergency situations (it has a NICU unlike the one I delivered Stephen at).

I've learned my lesson with Phoebe, if things don't go the way we planned- there's a purpose in it and I will praise the Lord. If the Lord allows me to have a natural labor and delivery- I will glory in Him. I'm not gonna get high and mighty about what I think is best and that it will happen the way I want it to. If I have to have a c-section to have a healthy baby- I will. (I'd rather not, but if I have to I will). My ultimate goal is to have a healthy Shiloh and no matter what happens- that will always be the goal. *sigh*

The dynamic of our household will change... not as much as with my previous two, but it will change nevertheless. Going from none to one was the hardest transition. Going from one to two was easier than I expected. Going from two to three... well I'll have to wait and see. The beauty of having three so close is that they will be close to each other (at least that is my prayer! And God answered my prayer with the arrival of Stephen so beautifully!) Phoebe absolutely LOVES Stephen- more than I could've ever imagined! My hope is that they will love Shiloh as much as they love each other. Right now the household is even- two boys and two girls. Now, unless, we are having fraternal twins, that will change as well. One of the children will have a roommate after Shiloh's 3-6 months of staying in mommy and daddy's room and a big-kid bed will have to be purchased for Phoebe since Stephen will have the toddler bed.

I don't play favorites with my children, but I think Phoebe is my special little girl. I never expected to have a daughter (my husband has 5 brothers- no sisters) and her birth was pretty crazy. She's the one who I make most of my parenting mistakes with and yet she's such a sweet and gentle helper. I'm thankful she was born first. She's going to experience so much change in her short life and as wonderful as she is at adjusting (I think that's a God-given gift for her!) I worry for her. I'm half-hoping Shiloh is a boy so that Phoebe will remain my only little princess, but if Shiloh is a girl I'm pretty sure Phoebe will welcome that fact whole-heartedly! hehe

Well... my blah blah blah has come to its close for now. Thanks for bearing with me. I just needed a moment this morning to reflect and "vent". :-)

Shiloh

I don't know how to start this. It's 1:27am and I should be asleep, but I actually have a few minutes (or an hour maybe) to jot down my ponderings in peace and quiet.

Shiloh: "His gift." or "He who was sent." This is used today as a gender neutral name, but in Hebrew actually given to male children. Christmas time is upon us (and HOW!) once again and it's at this particular time we remember Christ as the little baby in the manger... before He had hundreds of followers, before the Pharisees took notice, and before the cruel Cross. Here Jesus lies peacefully asleep as His earthly father, earthly mother, a few shepherds, and a bunch of animals look on (the wisemen came a little later). There He is... God's gift, He who was sent.

Each of my children's names was specifically given as a means to point others to Christ so when a person asks what does their name mean it opens up a grand opportunity.

"Phoebe"- light bringer/ shining one

"Lynn"- "lake, waterfall, or pool"/ if derived from Linda "pretty" (this was also my grandmother's middle name and she went home to be with the Lord about a week before Phoebe was born.)

So Phoebe is my pretty light bringer. My hope and prayer is that one day she will show the world the beautiful and true Light of Jesus Christ.

"Stephen"- Crowned

"Benjamin"- Son of my right hand

So Stephen's name reminds me that Christ is crowned, sitting at the right had of the Father making intercession for us. My hope and prayer is that he will be like Stephen mentioned in the book of Acts- a man full of the Spirit and trustworthy in the service of the Lord.

This brings me back to Shiloh... His gift, He who was sent. It's not "A gift" nor is it just "gift". Shiloh meas HIS gift- a gift from God Almighty! Each of my children are HIS gift to me. They are sent from God above with a purpose and oh what a blessing my three children are to me!

No... that's not a typo. There are three. Tuesday I took a test with a very faint line. This morning I took another two and there lies the proof. I'm thinking I might have to take a picture. I am aware that most people see us as ridiculous for letting God give us children in His own time (and however many He gives as well), but here we are. In June we will celebrate 4 years of wedded bliss and in August we will welcome our third child, our little Shiloh (not their "real" name- we've got a while to come up with that). Whether our little Shiloh is a boy or a girl (which is highly doubtful, BUT God can do ANYTHING! Hey, He gave us Phoebe- the daughter we never thought we could have) they are His GIFT to us. It also may sound silly for us to tell the world soon after three positive pregnancy tests, but you can all be praying for us now, that we will deliver a healthy baby in 8 months.

Shiloh, my little Shiloh. You are not an inconvenience. You are not an unplanned baby, for God had planned you before the world began. You are a human being. You are my child. You are a gift, His gift to this world and to this Mommy. You may be only millimeters long, but you are incredibly loved. :-) My prayer is that I see you in 8 months face to face, but if not, I will see you in glory. :-)

Let's see who actually reads this thing...

Scared? Maybe. Exciting? Definitely. Get my hopes up? Not yet.

I'll let you know tomorrow. I will let you know through this little blog thing that I've got going on.

The Blessings of a Small House

I truly believe sometimes God gives us a random sweet thought to bring us into an attitude of thanksgiving. This morning I was focusing on doing the laundry, cleaning the dishwasher plagued by San Antonio hard-water, and making sure that my little son's diaper is constantly dry or changed (he is battling a bad rash right now). So much to do it seems and I kept thinking, "Ugh- I can't wait to get out of this little house with it's small kitchen, cracked foundation, small bathroom (only one), and make-shift third bedroom (was a garage)." As I was closing my daughter's bedroom door (to make sure that my son didn't crawl in there) a thought came to me. The design of this house and the size is just right for us. Our living area and kitchen/ dining area are on one side of the house and the doors to our bedrooms and bathroom are clustered in our little hallway dividing the house in half. I only need walk mere inches from my bedroom door to the children's doors and the bathroom (though indeed small) opens to my son's room as well which means I don't have to lug the diaper pail far (we do cloth diapers). The 1150 sq. ft. that we call home only takes an hour or two to sweep, mop, vacuum, and move back furniture and I don't have to spread these tasks over a few days like some of my comrades.

If I could design a home it would probably look similar to this one (except with a larger kitchen, dining area and bathroom (maybe an extra one as well to accomadate our growing family)). Not that I don't look forward to maybe getting a larger house, but I'm sure I will miss these days when we do. This house is small enough to know exactly where both of my children are at all times (which for their age is VERY important!) and I don't have very far to run when one of my little ones has gotten themselves into a precarious predicament.

One of the brothers at our little chapel said once, "We shouldn't focus on Thanksgiving. We should be thanks-living." Thank You Lord for bringing to my mind the blessings you have graciously given to me. :-)

Just One...

Sometimes I just need to remind myself how great a salvation I have...

One sin destroyed this world and sent the universe into decline. Sheer perfection wrecked and ravaged by one disobedience. Beautiful unadulterated fellowship thrown out the window with one fell swoop. JUST ONE! If that had been the first and the last sin ever committed Christ still would have gone to the cross. The blood of animals can only cover the sin. Millions of animals were slain in the old testament, but their blood did not take away the sin. Only Christ could take them away. But not just in His word or living a perfect life. Without blood there is no remission of sins. So Christ had to die.

There is nothing in me that could tell God, "Hey- I'm awesome. You have to love me." Nothing I could do or say would ever make me deserve His grace or mercy. Nothing about me brings me to the throne of the Almighty. In fact the bible says that all my righteousness is as FILTHY rags. If I cleaned the floors, the bathtub, toilet, the ceiling fans, the outside of my house, and the street that runs in front of the house with one rag, it wouldn't begin to describe the FILTH in comparison to the rags of my righteousness in the presence of the perfection of God. What a pitiful sight it is to work to get God's favor. Ephesians 2:8-9 says that "by GRACE are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it if the GIFT of God: Not of works lest any man should boast." Me coming to God and saying, "Okay- I'm pretty good. Here I'll give you these rags. Now let me into Heaven." Puh-lease! How dare I?

Just one. One sin. One sinner. That's all it took to send Christ to the cross. He was bruised, beaten, and humiliated physically. But that's all we could see on the outside. We can't imagine what was happening on the inside. The waves and billows of the storm of punishment on our, on my, behalf. The sorrow beforehand, the sorrow to be separated from His Father in whom He had CONTINUAL fellowship from eternity past. We can't begin to fathom what that was like. When I was in labor with Phoebe, the doctor told Larry to go out of the hospital room while they put in the epidural- THIS was the moment I needed Larry the most, but he was required to leave! I can't begin to explain my human agony in those moments when I so desperately needed Larry. In comparison to God the Father separating from Christ the Son- beloved of the Father for those horrific hours- how insignificant my little ordeal! All for me- a wretched undeserving sinner.

What a salvation is THIS!!! My sin sent Him there. My secret sin and my very public sin... if I had just sinned once in my life- that ONE sin would have sent Christ to the cross. Oh my dear Savior- "in whom we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the RICHES of His GRACE." "But now, in Christ Jesus, ye who sometimes were afar off are made nigh by the blood of Christ." The Blood was not sprinkled on me. I was not dipped in it. I was drenched, covered, and saturated by it! This is the only way I can come into the presence of the Lord. "Oh Holy God, I am cleansed by the blood of Your Son- made white as snow. Thank You for accepting this glorious sacrifice and for adopting me into Your family."

I am not simply saved by the blood (but even if that were all- that would be enough), I have now become a daughter of the King of the universe! I can climb into the lap of the Almighty and whisper my desires and disasters, my hurt and my happiness. He tells me, "Come and let's talk." Though He knows it all, He simply wants me to speak- to boldly come into His presence and lay at His feet my troubles and in return take up the peace He offers.

Each day is a good day to remind myself of the Amazing Grace given to me. At the Cross, at the cross where I first saw the light... moment by moment, day by day, I need Thee EVERY hour!. Lest I forget Thine agony... lest I forget Thy love for me... LEAD me to Calvary! I so easily go my own way and that's where I get in trouble. When I live in the reality of the Cross and rest in the shadow of His wings I am wholly and completely me... the "me" that God intended.

Battle Wounds

"Stretch marks and incision scars are not reminders of the body we lost, but the precious lives we gained through a journey that brought us to the brink of death and back again. These "daily reminders" are beautiful and we should look at them with pride, not shame." (is it okay to quote myself?)

Lately, as I've been working out in an attempt to gain some semblance of my pre-pregnancy form, the grief I give myself about my post-pregnancy bod has made a ferocious comeback. I go through these spurts- sometimes I'll sink into a mini-depression about my looks and then in a matter of minutes I'll rebound with a sense of joy as I look at my "battle wounds" (as my husband calls my stretch marks and extra flab). I feel healthier than I have in years, I actually weigh less now than when I got married (astonishing I know!), AND I have two incredibly beautiful children who I would NOT trade in for the most "picture perfect" body ANY day.

I want to be okay with myself. Well... not just okay, but you know. It helps for me to think about everything I had to go through in order to successfully get pregnant, carry to term, and deliver a healthy baby (two actually). More and more women are seeking fertility drugs and invitro fertilization as a means to have the children they desire. A lot of those women never have successful attachment to the uterine wall and look then to adoption. There is a small window of opportunity even for fertile women when the egg is "available" for fertilization. So many factors have to be "just right" in order for a successful "zygote" to form and impant itself to the uterine wall. Once the implantation occurs, the mother's body goes in to "sacrifice" mode. Between the raging hormones, vitamin deficiency, morning sickness, sciatica, weight gain (loss), high blood pressure, gestational diabetes, and other conditions that plague a pregnant woman, a baby is being formed far beyond a mother's control. Then, as sad as it is, miscarriage in the first trimester occurs in 20% of all pregnancies. That's 1 in 5 little ones who will not survive to the second trimester. Out of the remaining pregnancies, some of these children will not survive to the third trimester. And out of those, 1 out of 10 of the women will have a premature rupture and deliver a premature baby, or because of illlness, infection, or lack of proper care even more little ones will not reach the critical 37 week "term" mark. And of those who do make it to term, some of these children might not survive labor and delivery. And in rare circumstances the mother will not survive labor and delivery.

I go through all that to say, when you consider how much a mother and child have to go through in conception, pregnancy, labor, and delivery... stretch marks and incision scars have little importance. When I'm completely honest with myself, I realize I take for granted the two little lives that God graciously allowed to see the outside world in good health. I look at my stretch marks and forget all that we had to endure so that I could have my "jewels". These stretch marks and redistributed body fat are reminders of how incredibly miraculous my children are and what a gift it is to carry them in my own body. I'm amazed at the journey my physical body had to tread in order for Stephen and Phoebe to be with me. My God, the Creator of the Universe, the Savior of my soul, made it all possible and I'm absolutely in awe.

I hope this is not going to make pregnant women or women who are wanting to conceive scared of the "if's". I write this for the women who (like myself) sometimes look at their postpartum bods in disgust or sadness. I encourage all mothers out there to write (or just think about) their pregnancy+labor+delivery story (for each child if you have more than one) and reflect on the miracle of conception, pregnancy, and delivery because it IS indeed a beautiful MIRACLE!

A Comfortable Blowout

I'm just warning you ahead of time... this post deals with a lot of poop (and not figuratively either).

I woke up this morning to a sweet kiss goodbye from my husband and went back to sleep for about half an hour. When I awoke, I grabbed a cup of chai, did some picture editing, and was about to start Facebook-ing when my Phoebe woke up. "Aaaaand.... GO!" She wanted breakfast and I was about to start boiling the water for the oatmeal when I heard the "Bubs" coo-ing in his crib. Yay- double duty! Stephen is not as patient as Phoebe is for breakfast so I was somewhat surprised that he was as happy as he was. I went in and the stench hit me. *whoah* Nothing like that could be a good thing, right? But he was so happy! Coo-ing up a storm and doing a few ga-ga's. I figure, he's been in this diaper for the whole night (unless my husband changed in the middle of the night without me knowing). But he's soooo calm and... well happy. I pick him up, place him on the changing table, and open up his sleep sack. To my horror (gasp!) there's poop EVERYWHERE! I just couldn't understand how this one little person could 1) have that much poop and 2) be so happy in the midst of it. Needless to say, this amount of poop couldn't be cleaned by a few wipees. No- this mess had to have a bath X's two.

So as I strip my precious angel of his soiled sleep sack and clothing I think to myself... "Isn't this like sin?" The first time it happens, we're screaming on the inside telling ourselves how awful this is. Sin to a human is as natural as pooping, right? We're born in it and we're born to do it. Of course our little conscience tells us that it's wrong (that's the grace of God by the way). We feel uncomfortable and we feel "dirty". Sin is disgusting, though it feels good to "let it out". If we stay in it long enough, we get used to it- we can be "happy" with it. I'm not saying this to promote staying in sin to be happy because true happiness can't be found there. No- I'm saying there's a loving Father who is willing to clean you up and make you smell all nice and clean... so you can enjoy living without being constantly surrounded by the stench and yuck of sin.

The thing is, when it comes to sin, you gotta be willing to be cleaned. God's willing to clean you up and make you new, but unlike Stephen, you have to give it all to God. God's not going to fight you to get you clean. He's not going to force you to take a bath (like I did Stephen). Let's be a bit more serious here. Christ left the glory of Heaven- the beauty and the splendor of His place as Lord of the universe. He wasn't constrained by growing old or physical pain... He had everything and then some! He chose to leave all that behind, to cloth Himself in skin and bones, to hunger and thirst, and age. He was still completely God, but was completely human- He was tempted as we are, but DID NOT sin. He said, "I love you and I don't want you to be apart from me." Being holy and just and righteous meant that God in His perfection could not look at sin or be in the presence of it. The punishment for one sin, just one, is eternity in Hell... THAT's how serious sin is to God. So Christ took the punishment of not just one sin, nor just one person's sin, but EVERYONE's sin so that we could have the gift of living forever in Heaven with Him! Christ died on the cross so that this gift would be available to those who want it and He rose again to give us a hope that is beyond anything the world can give and constant communication with the Maker of the Universe (you can't really talk to someone who's dead, right?). God's not going to force it on you- that's not real love. Real love GIVES a gift, but the loved one has to receive it.

Sin is an ugly thing... it stinks and has consequences far greater than what a little bath can take care of. Sin is a serious matter because that's the only thing that sends a person to Hell. When you confess (tell God that you agree with Him that sin is wrong) and ask for His forgiveness for every sin- He is more than willing to forgive you and make you clean! In fact, the bible says that the angels in Heaven have a party when someone believes and gives their life over to God! If you want to be cleaned up, really cleaned up- the bible says that Christ is the ONLY way, He is the TRUTH, and He is the LIFE! We are made new and will have a choice not to sin! If you want that new life- you've gotta go to God and say "I realize what Christ did for me- He took my place, He paid for my sins. I want to be new in You. Help me." And if you want to know more or just ask a question, feel free to comment. :-)

And to believe- all this started with one comfortable blowout in a sleepsack from my precious little 8 month old son. Thank you Lord, for bringing my focus on Your grace and love for me through a dirty situation. P.S.- I must add that Stephen is very clean once again and is freshly diapered and playing with his older sister Phoebe happily. :-) Everyone have a blessed day!

Red Nail Polish... disaster.

I had just finished painting my 2 year old's toenails (first mistake) and then I left her unattended in the same area as the closed nail polish bottle (second mistake). A few minutes later my husband is reprimanding our oh so curious daughter for doing something naughty... and to my surprise (and embarrassment) the Cuteness painted herself and the carpet. What was I thinking?! I should have put the bottle away far from her reach (or memory), but even more importantly I should have been paying more attention to this little disaster-waiting-to-happen (Phoebe). Needless to say she was disciplined for opening a container she already knew was "no", but I also was disciplined, though not physically, for not being more responsible with my things (and child).

This little incident got me to thinking... why would she do something that she knew was wrong and she knew had negative consequences? Lots of reasons came to mind. 1) It was late at night and she was tired. 2) She was bored. 3) She was thinking more of how fun it would be to "do it herself" than the ensuing consequences. But I think the most valid reason would be... *tada*... you guessed it. She wanted my attention- whether good or bad- she wanted my attention. My sweet little princess opened a bottle of deep red nail polish; painted her body, arm, and hand, then splattered some on the carpet; all so she could get my attention. Well, boy did she EVER!

How many other little girls go out of their way for "attention"? Phoebe's only two and knows how to get attention from everyone. What about other "little" girls who desperately want to be loved, want to be held, want to be noticed, want to know that someone is there for them, that someone is rooting them on in life? From short shorts to drugs and alcohol. The "party girl" isn't really there to have fun, she's there because some deep need inside her is not being met. Sure they may say that all they want is to have a good time, but a good time doesn't equal getting plastered or puke-drunk or sleeping with a total stranger.

It starts out as nail polish doesn't it? It starts out innocent- something that can simply be cleaned or thrown in the trash. But if the heart continues to desperately reach for attention that they don't receive... what then? All women were little girls once. Each one wanted to be loved and cherished and feel special. Not every parent can fulfill every part of that need. In fact, I'll even say that no parent can completely fulfill that need. It's been said that every person (not just women) have a God-shaped hole in their heart. Even if you don't believe that- it's true. Everyone is searching for something bigger than they are, someone that can love them no matter what and will never let them down. As awesome as my husband is, as great of a dad as he is... he has and will let me and the kids down. I have and will let my husband and family down at some point. That makes us human. God is the only One that I can say without a shadow of a doubt has kept every promise, has always been there for me even when I "epic-failed" as a Christian, has always accepted me and loved me. He went to the Cross for me. He's always there. I don't have to paint myself with dark red nail polish to get His attention because the blood of His Son was enough. He saved me.

My daughter is one of my pride and joys. I can't give her what her heart needs. When she's crying out for attention, I need to respond with grace and patience and love, but I know I will inevitably fail at times. God is so much more gracious, more patient, and more loving than I ever hope to be and my prayer is that my daughter will realize that the only One who can fulfill her every desire is the One that died for her and is ready to receive her into His waiting arms.

The Mirror's Lie

An image peers back

All battered and bruised

Someone defeated

Both lonely and used

A young woman's heart

With hate for herself

A desire to be noticed

Leaves her Soul on the shelf

Why don't I look

The way others do

Magazines and movies

Tell me the truth

This world wants one thing

A pencil thin waist

With bones poking out

Yet covered in lace

The mirror it screams

Just a few more pounds

I can't take it no more

Her brokenness sounds

Then a voice in a whisper

So sweet in her ear

You are fearfully made

And cherished my Dear

Why do you hate

What I skillfully craft

I know you better

And I never make trash

Every cell in your body

Every last one

Is something quite special

Yet I am not done

I have a plan and a purpose

For this beauty so rare

To shine in this world

So do not despair

I love you so much

That I died for you

I would not have said this

If it were not true

This world does not see

What real beauty means

For it does not know

The Creator it seems

So trust that I

Made you so unique

And what I placed in you

Is what you should seek

Dream (a tad of my poetry)

Those tiny hands and tiny toes

Reaching up towards her face

Those big eyes staring at her own

Time stands frozen in this place

She awakens from her slumber

Reality is there to greet

For those tiny hands and tiny toes

Belong to one she'll never meet

Why oh why can I not have

What so many do not want

What I'd give to hold one so close

But to them no second thought

They smoke and drink and even kill

While a human grows inside

Do they not know what a gift they have?!

Give that child to me! she cried

Her knees landed with a thud

Her hands were wet with tears

Her heart was broken, her body ached

After all these many years

Treatments didn't work at all

No surgery could it fix

Barren... what an ancient word

Her curse, her stolen bliss

When Rage and Anger left the room

She stood there all alone

I wish they knew what a gift to have

Such a garden in their home

The sounds of laughter running round

With the music of infant tears

Gladly would I trade this life

For that noise to bless my ears

The night surrounded her again

As it darkened the room's decor

She slid herself back into bed

To dream that dream once more

Those tiny hands and tiny toes

Reached up towards her face

She sweetly smiled and laughed again

Hope lives in this secret place

-LK

Mi Esposo

12:30pm on June 9th, 2007... The music plays as our families are escorted down the aisle to their seats. "A Better Way" rings through our little chapel as your groomsmen march toward the stage and you enter as the song comes to its end. "In Christ Alone" fills the air as my bridesmaids with my flower girls make their way to their places and as the song reaches its climax my Dad and I walk side by side towards you. This is what I had been waiting my whole life for. That moment. All of our friends and loved ones filled the little chapel; our one bedroom apartment was ready for us to start our new life together; the arrangements were made for a short reception; the airplane tickets were purchased; our bags were packed; a lifetime of hopes and dreams awaited; and there you were.
I had prayed for you... sometimes in generalities... other times with very specific requests. As a little girl I imagined what you might have looked like and dreamed of the children we would have together. God knew what I wanted, what I needed, and then some. Handsome- check. Tall- double check. Strong arms- check. A deep manly voice- check. Gentle- check. Patient- TRIPLE check. Someone who could make me laugh- check. A man of integrity- check. Kind- check. So many other qualities to mention, it might take more time and space than you'd care for. I might even embarrass you. So there you were... my groom, the man God had prepared for me. And me? I sometimes feel bad that you ended up with me... is this what you had waited your whole life for? Am I what God had prepared for you? Poor thing. I tried to dress myself up and make it look like you were getting the better end of the deal, but I must say I did.
Three years later... we've moved out of our first home together (that was tough) into our second home, those children I had dreamed about were born (at least two of them were), and I have to admit a few of those hopes and dreams died when reality hit. Not everything was perfect in our little world... I grew tired of picking up your wet towels and you got tired of pulling my hair out of the bathtub drain. But three years later, I still see you as that man waiting at the end of that aisle for me. You are the one I had prayed for, dreamed about... You are the man I chose to spend the rest of my life with and I've never regretted the decision I made.
Happy three years of marriage, my love. I hope the Lord blesses us with fifty more (at a minimum!). You are my shining knight in armor... my hero... my husband. :-)

When I Survey

An old hymn reads, "When I survey the wondrous Cross...". So often I find myself just taking a peek or glancing over at it when I feel unrest or if I'm in need of help or consolation. I say this to my shame.

The Cross, oh the wondrous Cross... to the world it is something that the Romans invented to put criminals to shame and death, a piece of jewelry that so-called Christians hang around their necks and, an ornament that they decorate and put in their buildings. They wonder why Christians would celebrate such a terrible act- being hung on two pieces of timber by nails driven into your hands and feet then die by asphyxiation or blood loss (but most often times the former). It is repulsive, even offensive.

So why would we call the Cross... wondrous? Wondrous- "to be marveled at". What happens when you marvel at something? I think of staring, gazing, surveying... not just glancing or taking a peek.

Beautiful? The Cross hardly seems beautiful the first time you look at it. In fact, it's probably the most horrible thing you could care to see. The wood is rough, probably still has the bark on it, splinters galore, might even have little bugs crawling up and down the grain. The nails are not the little things you use to hang a picture up- these nails had to hold up a human body, full grown men (sometimes women). These nails are more like the spikes you see on a railroad track. The pain of these things being driven into your wrist (and staying there) might be more than a human could bear, but they did. The criminal would then have to support all their weight on these wounds to take a single breath. The wounds themselves are not a "clean cut" either, flesh would be torn, blood everywhere, and in some cases bones would be fractured or broken. And there the victim would hang... for hours, some even days.

Stand at the base of the Cross. Look up. What do you see? I see the stains of blood, globs in some places are still stuck to the bark. I see the nails, rough iron nails and more blood. I see the thick jumble of thorns with remnants of hair and yes, even more blood. In fact there's so much blood you can smell the stench, the stench of death. The one thing lacking in this picture is the body of the One who hung there. The Cross reminds me of the sacrifice made and thankfully my Lord didn't stay dead or my faith would be in vain.

Let me compare the Cross and my wedding rings as reminders (seems so silly to compare them, but bear with me). I'm one of those weird people who look at their wedding rings all the time- I can hardly miss them. They are there when I wash my hands, when I wash the dishes, when I wash laundry, when I pick up my children, even when I wipe my nose, when I do anything with my hands... they are ALWAYS there! These rings remind me of the commitment I made to my husband- for better or worse, for rich or poor, til death do us part, to always remain faithful- they remind me of the love we have for each other. The Cross is a reminder that the God of Heaven and Earth, came down, took on flesh, lived a perfect life, remained sinless, took my sin and shame, bled (for without the shedding of blood there is no remission of sin), and died the death that was rightfully mine. The Cross is the reminder that I am not able to save myself and Someone had to. The Cross is a reminder of the wondrous grace and mercy given to me by the loving and righteous God of the universe.

So I must conclude with a resounding "How dare I?!". How dare I glance, peek, or even look past the Cross?! Such love and sacrifice demands to be stared at... pondered... surveyed... marveled at.


When I survey the wondrous cross
on which the Prince of Glory died;
my richest gain I count but loss,
and pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
save in the death of Christ, my God;
all the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.

See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down.
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
or thorns compose so rich a crown.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were an offering far too small;
love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.

Little Things (Motherhood Edition)

When you think you're at your wits end and your child says, "Hug!"

The way that your little girl wants to have her toes painted too.

The first time your child says, "I love you."

A two and a half hour nap in the middle of the day.

How the smile of your newborn makes you laugh (especially when you know it's just gas).

When your children are quiet, happy, and stationary all at the same time.

The way your toddler says, "Kiss." after tripping over her own feet time and time again.

The first time you ask your child to go get something from another room and they actually do it!

Being able to play "horsie" with your toddler.

Dancing to a song during a commercial for not apparent reason except that your daughter did it first.

Watching your toddler play with your IPOD... like REALLY play with it.

When you see your toddler kiss your newborn because they want to, not because you said so.

When your husband walks through the front door and your daughter runs and give him a BIG kiss!

How a swing can make the crankiest baby fall asleep.

Looking at your children and thinking to yourself, "I can't believe that came out of me!"

Realizing that nothing in this world could make you stop loving them... ever.


I never knew I could love in the way I love my children. They are my greatest achievement and some of my greatest joys are derived from their precious lives. They may drive me insane sometimes, but nothing will ever drive me away from them. May I be as much of a blessing to my children as they are to me.

He's Here (and How)

It's 11:50pm on Monday the 22nd of February and even as exhausted as I am, I can't quite bring myself to sleep. Today has been such a crazy day and one that I will not soon forget (well maybe temporarily from sleep deprivation). As my husband snoozes and my new little one quietly lies in his plastic bassinet, here I am pondering the miracle and gravity of this day.
As funny as it may seem, I didn't think it would be today. As much as I expected it, anticipated it, and desperately longed for it, I couldn't believe it was happening. I woke up at 1:50am after a night watching the Olympics and dozing off on the couch. Larry and I were expecting to visit the doctor's office that morning at 9:15 to discuss induction and other options. Apparently Stephen didn't like that idea. I visited the bathroom before heading to my bed where Larry was already asleep. I slowly laid down looking forward to an uninterrupted night ahead when to my sheer surprise... tada! I felt like I had peed myself, but it not. Only a woman could understand that feeling. I immediately bolted up and waddling to the door I told Larry, "I think my water just broke." He got up and asked if he should call Christy. Silly me said, "No, I'm going to call the doctor. Can you get my phone?" So I call the doctor and she said, "Go to the hospital." I thought to myself, "Well I was planning on taking a shower, but okay nevermind." No contractions, nothing to get my attention except for the fact that my "water" was tinged with blood (totally normal) and my plug apparently hadn't dislodged itself until then (eww- gross).
We finish packing things and Christy arrived at the house to make sure Phoebe was attended to when she eventually would wake up without Mommy or Daddy there. I had a mixture of feelings running through me. Fear of the pain, anxious to meet our little man, sad that I had to leave Phoebe, happy that this was finally it... I was a melting pot of emotion.
We arrive at the hospital around 2:40, walk into the ER, tell them my water ruptured, and after finishing some paperwork, they wisk me away to labor and delivery. I got to ride in a wheelchair! :-) Larry eventually met me back in the room after the nurses completed some questionnaire about abuse and emotional distress at home along with the poking of needles and so forth. The nurses also mentioned that the amniotic fluid was tinged with meconium staining (Stephen had pooped already) and a specialist would be present at the birth to make sure all was well. I said, "Great." At this point I was excited to see everything unfold and in a cheery mood. They asked me what my pain level was and I said a 3- in the middle of a contraction. They checked my progress and I was at 3cm, 70% effaced, and Stephen was STILL at a -2. He had never dropped. Although my belly would tell a different story, Stephen was not engaged in my pelvis... wonderful. They strap me to the monitors and confine me to a bed. So many memories filled my mind and that fearfulness crept back in. Wasn't this what I had experienced with Phoebe? I was induced, had an epidural, tore, had spinal headaches for a week and a half and barely felt like a mother at all those first two or three weeks. Was this my fate with each child I would bring into this world? The nurse then turned to me and said that my contractions were irregular and that they might have to administer Pitocin... after waiting and watching to see what my body would do. Pitcon?! Oh nooooo! Not again! As much as I wanted a natural birth I was not beyond taking drugs... but would I have those headaches again? That was always in the back of my mind... those headaches that robbed me of enjoying those first weeks of my daughter's life. I remembered how awful those contractions had been and I confessed to Larry that I didn't think I could do it if they gave me Pitocin.
To pass the time in between the waiting I called up my mom, my sister, and texted many others. I told my mom that I was scared of what was about to happen. How could I handle all that again? I wanted to experience pushing, but the pain... I didn't want the pain. Eventually a new nurse started her shift and thank God He brought this beacon of encouragement. Her name is Joyce- and a sweet lady. She has three boys and was excited that I too was going to have a son. I can't explain what she brought into the room, but whatever it was helped me get through when Larry was out to get breakfast. She checked me a couple of times and thankfully the contractions I was having were doing something. I reached a 4 and 75% effacement, but the contractions were not strong enough to bring Stephen down. She called Dr. Cajas to let him know what was going on and he made the decision to start me at 1mm of pitocin. My fears were realized when those contractions started coming harder and longer, but they continued to be irregular. Larry, the Lord knew what kind of man I needed in a husband and a birth partner, read to me from Colossians and over and over he would read something about the strength of the Lord and laboring. I could not have heard more perfect words. I would go as far as I could go, but the Lord would take me and my little son through it all.
Dr. Cajas decided it was a good time to visit me to see how I was laboring. He decided we needed to regulate my contractions so they upped the dosage. It was at this point he checked my progress... 5cm, 75% effaced and Stephen still sitting at a -2. Thank the Lord- the cord had not become prolapsed. My little guy was safe and doing extremely well. :-) After a few hard and long contractions I broke. I looked at Larry and said, "I can't do it. The pain is too much. I've failed." Such an amazing husband- he told me I'm not a failure and we need to do what is best for me and Stephen. At this point I was exhausted- my relaxation techniques could only do so much to help me cope with the excrutiating pain. I asked to be given the epidural, knowing full well what the consequences were. I told Larry, "I don't want those headaches again." with tears in my eyes and then he prayed that the Lord would be merciful to me and spare me the agony. Oh to go to the Lord in prayer and leave your burden at His feet. I know so many others were praying for us and that Stephen would arrive safely... the Lord is gracious.
Another miracle was that they allowed Larry to stay in the room with me while I was poked with the epidural. With Phoebe's birth- they forced him to leave the room, the most traumatizing experience of my life! I was so thankful that I could have my partner right in front of me when that needle went in. Soon I was numb from the waist down and able to relax. My body apparently was relaxed as well and allowed the contractions to become regular and do their work. Right before the epidural I was measuring 7cm 75% effaced and Stephen had dropped to a -1 (still not engaged, but descended). I could smile again! About this time Larry was getting hungry and I suggested that he go to mcDonald's to get some lunch while I waited there for my body to be ready to push. He agreed and left a few minutes later. Little did I know my body was on full blast forward and maybe 5-10 minutes later I called him and said, "You should come back, they say I'm ready to push." He barely made it in time to witness our little miracle entering the world. He held up one of my legs as I bore down in the contraction. He would later say, "I squeezed so tight- praying you wouldn't rip again." I told him, "Well I couldn't feel it anyway." After two contractions our little Stephen was born. I was amazed that he was here. That last push was the Lord- my physical strength was completely drained. After they cleaned Stephen up and placed him on my chest, I could finally rest. I was filled with joy, happiness, love, and wonder. That little guy who I felt was a complete stranger, the little guy who I wondered if I could love like I love Phoebe, the little guy who's little head had such a hard time coming down, was here and I loved him. Every mom told me, "Don't worry about not loving them, it will come when they do." and so it did. My son, my man-child, the miracle... was in my arms and right next to my beating heart. Oh taste and see that the Lord is good. Thank you all for your prayers and support. Only the Lord knows how much it means to us to have each of you in this journey with us. :-)

A Mother's Heart

Dear Phoebe,

You are so precious to Mommy. I remember when I was 36 weeks pregnant with you- awaiting your arrival with great anticipation and so excited that we were gonna be blessed with you within the next few weeks. You were such a surprise to us when you arrived a week and a couple of days later! I was overjoyed and scared, overwhelmed and filled with wonder, sad and oh so blissfully happy. The love I felt for you was simply indescribable- I never though I could love like that. Here we are almost 21 months later. Mommy is 36 weeks pregnant with your baby brother Stephen. As hard as I have tried to help you understand what's going on, I don't think you can fathom what is about to happen. Mommy is not as excited, nor is Mommy as scared, as I was with you. I think it's because I've been through this before and know what to expect (kind of). I have to remind myself that you probably won't remember the year and a half that we've had together- just the two of us. You and me at home all day long- reading, playing, singing, dancing, and watching the occasional tv. All those "firsts" that only Mommy saw and will hold in her heart. Your first steps, your first smile, and even your first tantrum (you were so cute). These moments are the ones that Mommy holds dearest because they are the ones that only she can carry with her. When you have a little one of your own you will understand.
So many things are about to change for us, my Daughter. When baby brother is on the outside of Mommy we won't spend as much time together playing or dancing, but I want you to know that Mommy will still love you as much as I do now. You will not be any less special nor will you be any less loved than you are right now. You are my firstborn- my crash course in parenthood- my beautiful girl, the sweet little princess that I always knew in my heart I would be blessed with one day. You are such a helper and already I see that you love baby brother. I'm not worried that you will be resentful of the new baby. :-)
Oh Phoebe, if you could understand how much things will change and how much I want to protect your heart from feeling lonely or cast aside. I wish I could explain what's about to happen. I suppose there is a bright spot in your lack of memory... you won't remember how much things changed. You will never remember what it was like to be the center of attention constantly from Mommy. You will probably only remember life as it will be when brother Stephen is here. And only Mommy will be left to hold all these months and memories in her heart- what a privilege! :-)
I love you Phoebe! Only the Lord knows what will happen in the next few weeks, but I'm thankful that I still have a little time left to gather up more cherished moments with you. :-)

From an overflowing heart,
Your Mommy

Creator Of Concepts

I don't know how to start out this note. All I'm asking of you as the reader is to not make any judgment on the note until you've read ALL the way through. Keep your mind open and at the end leave a comment- with civility please.


1) the concept of justice and fairness is embedded in our innermost being
A child would say if mom gave Billy an apple and didn't get one for me- it's not fair! More seriously, if a murderer took your child's life and the judge let him go- we'd all agree that justice was not served. When justice is served, there's something inside that applauds the outcome.

2) technology cannot compare to the intricacies of the human anatomy
Consider the brain. Everything we can do, speak, or think is controlled by this organ. A computer runs as slow as molasses in the dead of winter compared to the power and ingenuity of the human brain. The human brain invented the computer and is still building upon that invention! When something new is invented and helps lots of people, we pat ourselves on the back and say, "Well done!" or wow- that kid's smart!

3) the concept of caring for another person
We go to all sorts of countries and governments and peoples to feed them, clothe them, adopt their children... the list goes on and on! We set up organizations so that we can help other people and when we do we feel "good". Something inside makes us proud of that accomplishment.

4) the concept of love
This one is the catalyst for so many things. The love of a friend for a friend. The love of a mother (I can tell you this one is beyond powerful). The love of a father. The love of a mentor to their student. The love of an adopted parent to their newly added family member. The love of grandparents. The kind of love that would make a person jump into the street to prevent a stranger from being hit by a car! Some people think that it's just a feeling or hormones running through the brain, but I say that feelings won't push that person out of the path of a speeding car. Love has to be given. And when we love someone it seems we'd do anything to make their life better.

5) the concept of pleasure
We enjoy things. We enjoy the sunrise, the sky painted just so (and no picture could come close to capturing the beauty of it- although many have tried), the taste of sweet candy, the smell of a rose or a special perfume, the way a shirt feels when you put it on right out of the dryer! All these things give us a little bit of happiness and we call that happiness pleasure.

Now I will introduce my questions:

How would it be possible for the inventor of humans to not have any of these qualities? Let's use our own logic for a little bit.

You wouldn't say that Picasso or Michelangelo didn't have a talent for painting.
You couldn't say that the architect of the Empire State building knew nothing about structures.
You would never say that Mother Theresa was in it for the money.

So why would anyone assume that the creator of these concepts and intricacies not contain these qualities? If God gave us the concept of pleasure- wouldn't you assume that He knows everything about it? If God made the body so it would perform like an athlete and invent things like a computer, we must assume that He knows everything about how it runs, what does and doesn't work, and is more intelligent than anyone. If God gave us the concept of caring... why would He walk away?

No one would assume that the creator is less than the creation. That goes against all logic! All the qualities present in object must be present in the maker.

Let us go further... I still have two more concepts.

If God gave us the concept of justice- the sense of right and wrong... He would have to be perfect. Someone who doesn't understand that stealing is wrong couldn't tell us that stealing is wrong. Alot of people say that God is "HOLY" and cannot be in the presence of sin. This tells us that sin has to be dealt with. A judge that is a good judge would not let a rapist go free or let a thief keep stealing. There has to be punishment for that crime. So the God who created the concept of justice has to be just and perfectly just, at that!. If God is perfect then He logically cannot go against Himself... if He had ever done anything wrong He would no longer be perfectly just and this cannot be said of the creator of justice.
Why would anyone think that simply because God is good and caring He'd automatically let us off the hook? Logically- this makes no sense. They fail to recognize God's just-ness and holiness.

Finally, LOVE. If God created love... the kind that would make a stranger jump into the street to prevent a pedestrian from being hit by a car... shouldn't that say something about the way He loves? Why would it be so far from our comprehension that the God of the universe and creator of all things would love with such immense love as to die for us? Wouldn't He have to care about us- after all isn't He the inventor of our concept of caring?


Almost every single religion in the world says you have to get to heaven by doing good. At the end of your life- if you've done enough good you'll be rewarded. Well... how do you know that you're being good is good enough? What about your thoughts- do those count too?
I have to say that based on what I just wrote... if the creator of justice allowed this to be the way to heaven- He couldn't be fair!

A judge has to have certain guidelines to go by when presented with a case because they have to be treated equally and with all fairness. So what has to be the standard? Perfection. If a judge said to a rapist, "Okay- you've been a decent contributor to the community, you made honor roll in high school and were on the dean's list in college- I'll let you go." Would you say that the judge's decision was correct?! I'd hope not!!! That's like telling God, "Maybe I've lied, or stolen, or even worse, but I've done lots more that's good- let me into heaven." There has to be a standard by which to judge everyone equally and fairly- and the only logical standard to use on everyone is perfection.

So if the creator is caring and loving as well as just... wouldn't He make a clear way for us to get to heaven? I mean- more people than not believe that there's a heaven right? If He cared, why would He just let us try and figure it out on our own? Would a parent say okay- you get candy, but you have to (and completely leaves off what you need to do)? Are you supposed to do everything you can to get that candy and what if you still leave something out... you don't get the candy. A parent wouldn't do that!!! Why would God do that? God clearly states in the bible that the only way to Heaven is through this Jesus Christ. But you say, "That's so narrow minded!" Well... do any of the other religions come up with a clear cut path to heaven? It's all about being good, right? But we've discussed that already. It's obvious we can't save ourselves.

My hope is that this made you think a little bit. Based on feedback, I would like to continue this subject matter in another note. :-) Thanks for reading.

If you want to discuss this in further detail... make comments. I'd love to get your feedback.