"The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly." John 10:10 (NKJV)

Saturday, December 24, 2011

This Christmas

One month ago, it was Thursday, November 24, 2011.  It was Thanksgiving Day.  It was the morning that I woke up at 4:00 AM to make sure Daddy was awake to give Mama her next dose of Morphine.  It was the morning I met Daddy at the door to their bedroom with his hands held up in surrender saying, "She's gone."  It was the morning that my life changed when Mama died.

Thankfully, it didn't take any of us by surprise.  For the past week, the family had been at her side doing our best to fulfill her final wishes (with the exceptional help of her caregivers and the Hospice team).  Actually, I think that's what we'd been doing for the past 20 years that Mama had been living with brain cancer.  We wanted to make sure she was comfortable.  We wanted to spend time with her.  We wanted to spend time with each other and enjoy all of the memories God had allowed her to share with us.  Whether it was the past 20 years or that last week of her life, she was worth every minute of it; even down to that last early-morning alarm on Thanksgiving morning.

Here I am, one month later. I woke up around 3:30 this morning, and it didn't hit me until closer to 4:00 that one month had already rushed by.  The emotions I feel right now are the same emotions I've felt since 4:00 AM on Thanksgiving.  A friend of mine left these words on my Facebook page the day that Mama died, and it describes the emotions very well:

"Sad and glad... crying and laughing... remembering and rejoicing... hard to explain unless the Lord has you in His hands." 

As sad as it makes me to miss having my Mama here with me, I'm glad that she's not here in her earthly body anymore.  As much as crying is a part of the grief process, laughing is, too, and I know that's what Mama would want us to do more of.  And, as much as I love memories, I rejoice at every one of them that Mama left for me and our family.  They are such treasures.  I don't know how someone who doesn't have a relationship with Jesus Christ could make it through the loss of a loved one.

So, as I face the day ahead with such a mixture of emotions, I remember that today is Christmas Eve.  It's a day filled with much anticipation for us who are Christ Followers.  It's another day that God uses to remind me of His mercies, His grace, His hope, and His love as we celebrate CHRISTmas.  It's a day that makes losing my Mama much more bearable because of those gifts from a Father who loves us so much that He gave His only Son.  Merry Christmas... Now, go hug your Mama!
Another Christmas Memory with my Mama, Lolly (just in case you couldn't decipher the puff-paint letters on her shirt!)
Christmas 2010

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Is This What I Signed Up For???

Have I ever mentioned that I once had this twisted idea that stay-at-home-moms did nothing all day except shop, drink coffee, watch TV, get their nails done, decorate their homes, and put their children down for naps every so often?  Well, shame on me!  It's been just over a year since I embarked on this journey of full-time motherness, and what a ride it's been.  In fact, there are those days when I feel the urge to ask, "Is THIS what I signed up for??"

Thankfully, today has been one of those days.  Within a span of twenty minutes (if even that long), Cain had chugged some of and spilled most of Baylor's cup of apple juice on the kitchen floor.  That's the floor that was just steam mopped last night.  (I KNEW I should've enjoyed the cleanness of it just a little longer last night!)  Baylor, the one who's potty-trained, managed to peepee all over the bathroom floor and then track it all over the living room floor on his little wet feet. (It took two towels to soak it up despite his claim that he'd already cleaned it up for me.  At least he tried!)  In an effort to breathe and regain control, I sent Baylor outside to play at the picnic table so I could keep an eye on him while I started supper.  He perched himself on the picnic table forlornly looking out across the pasture... and picking his nose.  I couldn't help but laugh inside... What a sight!    Of course, then, the phone rings.  Actually, at times like this, the ringing telephone sounds more like sirens going off; about 50 of 'em!  Thankfully, it was my dad, and, boy, was I glad to hear his voice!  He asked me the loaded question, "How are you and the boys?"  Poor thing.  He had no idea what he was asking.   He was 80 miles away and didn't know that at that very moment, my lonely, booger-picking, three-year-old was dumping an entire bag of bird seed onto the ground.  My reply?  "Daddy, do you really want to know?!"

After explaining the past twenty minutes of our already interesting day, he understood what I meant when I said that it's a good thing I don't rely on any type of drug to help relieve stress.  Otherwise, he would've been talking to a smoking drunk, and you know that wouldn't go over to well for a Southern Baptist!  The more details I shared, the more we laughed.  Before hanging up, I let him know that God had used him at that very moment through a telephone call to lighten the mood... and save Brantley from the wrath that awaited him upon his arrival home from work.

That's why I say, "Thankfully, today has been one of those days."  If it weren't for days like this, I wouldn't realize all of the ways in which God blesses me day-in and day-out.  Yes, this IS what I signed up for when Brantley and I petitioned God for children.  He answered our prayers then and continues to do so now.  So, if you don't mind, I'm going to go turn on some "Praise Baby" and enjoy a little quiet before the next twenty minutes gets revved up!

 

Saturday, September 24, 2011

This Time Last Year... Continued

... During our time in Lexington with the family during that weekend, it wasn't uncommon for most people to comment on the state of my condition.  Apparently, I had that "look" to most people, and they were afraid that I would go into labor at any minute.  I remember as all of the aunts, uncles, cousins, and Mema were getting situated to receive friends and family at the funeral home that Saturday evening, Kyle insisted that he couldn't stand in line next to me.  Why?  He didn't want his shoes getting wet if my water broke!  I guess neither of us realized how real of a possibility that was during the weekend.  Why, going by my due date of September 29th, I had at least 11 more days to go...  Or so we thought!

On the way back home to Calhoun Falls from Papa's funeral that Sunday night (around 9:00'ish), Brantley made a joke as we passed the road that leads to Self Regional Medical Center in Greenwood.  It went a little something like this: "You better holler if you want to stop now, because I'm not coming back this way until your ultrasound appointment tomorrow afternoon."  Good one, Brantley!!  Much to his surprise (okay, mine, too), we were on our way back to Self within the next five to six hours ready to bring Baby #2 into this great big world.

I'll try to spare the details, but there was no doubt that it was showtime when I woke up at 2 AM the next morning (Monday).  I had the strangest little sensation when I rolled over in bed.  Within seconds, that little sensation was followed by water.  Lots of water.  I gently woke up Brantley and told him the news.  This time, I figured it was best to skip the shampoo, shave, and hair dryer.  I'd only been asleep for about four hours, so the usual bed head look hadn't quite settled in yet. (Thank goodness.  I wanted to look good for my second delivery!)  By 2:30, Baylor was whisked away across the cow pasture to the grandparents and the little Chevy Equinox was doing close to 70 with the hazard lights blinking all the way to Greenwood!

I think being a woman is a privilege, especially because we have the opportunity to experience giving birth to a child.  That is one of my most favorite things EVER.  During my four hours of delivery and taking it all in, we were all so excited to finally find out; boy or girl??  My main L&D nurse kept referring to the baby as "it."  Not long into the process, she asked if we'd picked out a name because she thought "it" sounded so bad.  We informed her that Baylor had been calling the baby "Jesus" for several weeks.  As it got down to the last few minutes of pushing and the excitement of the baby's arrival, the nurse shouts, "Jesus is coming!"  Right on, sister... I'm all about evangelizing and reaching a lost world!!

At 6:37 that very morning, Dr. Beudrot delivered an 8 lb. 1 oz. baby boy with a head of strawberry blond hair.  We decided to name him Joseph Cain.  (To those of you wondering.  Yes, we realize that Cain was the world's first murderer.  It was just a name we both liked, and believe me, those names weren't easy to come by this time around.  We are doing everything within our power to teach our Cain that slaying his brother over crops and sheep isn't in his best interest.)  God had given us another handsome and healthy baby boy to add to the family!

With all of the emotions of that weekend last year, God held true to his promises.  He always has and always does keep his promises, but this was an instance of life season's that I will never forget.  The old testament book of Ecclesiastes has a beautiful poem which even non-Christians probably know (just listen to the Forrest Gump soundtrack); "For everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven.  A time to be born and a time to die."  During the short season of mourning Papa's death, God redeemed the heartache and tears of sorrows with wonder and tears of joy as he brought forth new life.  Sometimes the seasons change slowly, and the winters of our lives seem to stretch on and on.  But there's the hope of knowing that spring isn't far away.  God rocked my world and took me from winter to spring in four days.  Seeing God's hand throughout each season of my life; that's one of the reasons I love to reminisce.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

This Time Last Year

I love to reminisce.  In fact, Brantley brought it to my attention that my family will sit around the table for hours after we've finished a meal retelling old stories and reliving old memories.  We've always done that, even with our extended families, and I wouldn't trade those times for anything.  Kyle and I are even guilty of calling each other up out of the blue because a random memory came to mind.  It's fun to see what details we both remember... or don't remember!   It's the same when I get together with friends, especially ones I haven't seen in a while.  It seems like all of my comments start out, "Do you remember that time when...?" 

Let me go ahead and apologize, because this time last year was a time in my life that I hope to never forget.  God orchestrated several seasons of my life all within four days.  On Thursday, September 16, 2010, Brantley made a surprise visit to my classroom shortly after school was dismissed for the day.  I was in my usual mode of preparing for the next day focused on getting everything in order when he just happened to drop in.  Within five minutes of his arrival, he let me know that my Papa had died around 11:00 that morning.  I remember the shock of hearing that news; news I'd dreaded hearing for years.  Of course, death is a part of life,and I knew the news would come some day, but all I could do was cry.  In that classroom with just Brantley and me, it truly felt like time stood still.  I didn't envy Brantley and his responsibility at that moment, but he was so respectful and gentle in the way that he told me.  He just held on to me as I took it all in.


You see, Martin Ernest Meetze, my Papa, was a man like no other.  Like everyone, he had his faults, but he was a major influence in my life in so many ways.  That entire weekend was spent with the Meetze family reliving our favorite memories of Papa... 

...Even though I was probably around seven years old at the time, I can still see him so clearly standing inside the doorway of his and Mema's house, looking so nervous, as he told me he'd run over my pink and purple bicycle (the one with the pom-poms).  It was my fault for leaving the bike in the middle of the driveway, but I think he was more upset than I was.  Whatever he was doing and wherever he was going were put to the side.  He took me out to his welding shop, and it wasn't long before the broken pink pedal was replaced with a white one.  For years, I rode my mismatched bike with pride! 

... I vividly remember snow days as a child mainly because Papa was usually outside waiting on Kyle and me so we could play.  He'd have his sled in tow and away we'd go.  It seemed like hours would go by while he pushed us down hills on that sled or took us for walks through the woods.  There's even a picture at Mema and Papa's of one of those very days.  He even talked Mema into getting on the sled with him one time.  Away they went, sledding down the hill towards the creek with Mema squealing the whole way down!

... Thank goodness for Papa's natural mechanical ability.  He was a welder who could fix and build anything... and everybody around knew it!  He was responsible for making many of my science projects look so good (and he even helped stage the pictures to make it look like I was the one hard at work).  He was responsible for teaching me how to strike my first arc and weld a decent weld.  And no matter how much work he had to do, he never seemed to mind if we just hung around the shop keeping him company.

... When I got to college, he was still there.  His love for the outdoors and watching things grow is what led me to pursue my love of agriculture.  During my early years at Clemson, I had the chance to appear in a television segment on At Home, Southern Style, a show produced on campus.  I needed leaf samples of common SC trees to use on the segment.  It was Papa who took me out that Sunday afternoon, just me and him, searching for and identifying specimens.

.... And a couple of times, it was just me and Papa sitting together in the deerstand.  He didn't have much to say, but that was fine with me.  I just liked being in his presence no matter how old I was.

... On my wedding day, I had the privilege of walking down the aisle arm-in-arm with my daddy and Papa.  He even danced with me at the reception, although I think it was completely out of character for him.

... Baylor's middle name is Martin.  I'd say that made Papa kinda proud because very seldom did he ever refer to him simply as "Baylor."  It was always "Baylor Martin."  He loved Baylor, and Baylor loved him.  There aren't many days that go by that Baylor doesn't mention or ask about Papa in some way.  They made quite a pair!

Brantley, Baylor, and I visited with Papa one last time just less than a week before he died.  I am forever grateful that God encouraged us to make that visit.  We had no idea that it would be our last, but it was time well spent.

That Thursday last year was just the beginning.  Over the next few days, we visited with family and friends as they shared their sympathies, and we celebrated Papa's life at Shiloh.  Little did we know what blessing God had in store for all of us who were missing our Papa something terrible...


Sunday, August 28, 2011

A Letter to Expectant Parents


Dear Expectant Parents,

People naturally feel the need to tell you that having children will change your life forever.  Don't let it get to you.  You see, before Baylor came into our world three years ago, I figured these people with advice were  talking about the lack of sleep Brantley and I would soon experience with a newborn in the house.  Or maybe they were warning me, the neat freak, to let go of the idea that my house must always be presentable, much less spotless.  I also figured they were gently letting Brantley and me know that our leisure days of doing and going as we pleased were going to become less frequent... much less frequent.  With those assumptions, I'd smile, nod my head, and agree with those people who gave the advice.  (Boy, was I naive!)

While all of these changes are certain to come your way, please allow me attempt to explain what it is these people with advice are REALLY trying to say to you.  These people with advice are telling the truth about the changes coming your way.  Your life (as one person and your life as a couple) is definitely going to be different, but in more ways than those I mentioned earlier.  Those are changes in your routine.  It won't take long, and you'll have to strain to remember what life was like pre-child(ren).  The real changes are bigger.  In fact, they do more than change your routines, they alter your ways of thinking, your ways of feeling, and your ways of doing.  


Will you allow me to give you an example?   To celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary two years ago, Brantley and I were thrilled to "get away" to the mountains of North Carolina.  We were invited to stay in a friend's cabin, practically free of charge.  We both used vacation days from work and headed to the hills early that Friday morning.  We didn't have to be back home until Sunday night!  It was a little pitiful.  We were both so excited to get away that it didn't matter where we ate or what we did.  A leisurely lunch at Cracker Barrel felt like we were dining at a five-star establishment.  Renting DVDs from the local Ingles felt like a night on the town. (I'm almost ashamed to say that two hours of that trip, and more importantly my life, was wasted by watching "Twilight."  I should've known better.  In order to redeem those two hours, we cruised through and around the mountains making a couple of quick hiking stops here and there.)  During our downtown excursions we even found a chocolate shop that sold chocolate covered strawberries.  Now, that WAS something to get excited over! (http://www.thechocolatebears.com/site.php?pid=3)  We savored them as if they were delicacies.  That was all within the first 30 hours of our mountain trip.  It wasn't long before I was longing for home.  Come to find out, Brantley was, as well.  What in the world was there at home in Calhoun Falls that could interrupt our time away?  A certain little one-year-old boy with big blue eyes and little brown curls.  We were both ready to go home to be with our Baylor.  So, after a true five-star dining experience (check out the Sweet Onion Restaurant in Waynesboro, NC at  http://www.sweetonionrestaurant.com/ ), we quickly went back to the cabin to pack our bags and hit the road for home.  That was late on Saturday night.  We had an entire day left to enjoy our freedom, but we chose to go back to that we had thought we wanted a break from.  

Yeah. And??  Well, I share that story as an example of the changes in thinking that occur once a child becomes a part of your world.  No longer is it about me.  No longer is it  about the two of us. There's another life to consider.  There's a person to mold.  With those life-altering changes comes sacrifice.  Things that may have once seemed important no longer hold the same urgency.  Things that were priorities are now worth waiting for.  Children will do that to you.  Sometimes the sacrifices seem easy.  (Really, what's one less chicken nugget?) Sometimes they hurt a little, but it isn't long before the weight of the sacrifice is a distant memory.  Perhaps God orchestrates this change in our thinking to bring us one step closer to knowing a fraction of the depth of sacrifice in the death of his Son on the cross. 

I pray with you as you anticipate the joys that a child will bring.  I pray with you as you consider the changes that will come to your life.  And I will celebrate with you as God sheds a brighter light on a deeper appreciation for the Sacrifice who paid the ultimate price.  I can't wait to meet all of these precious children that will make their appearances before we know it!

Much Love,
A Mama Who Still Has So Much to Learn But Just Gave You Some Advice :)

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Tug o' War

At first, I felt the need to share my new title with anyone I met in a way that might be pretty close to the way personal introductions are done in a support group setting; "Hi, my name is Carrie, and I'm a stay-at-home mom."  Can you visualize it with me?  There I was trying not to make eye contact with my head held down.  I certainly didn't say it boldly or with a sense of contentment.  I was ashamed of the fact that I had given up some things to be a full-time mama.

It's one year since I felt God tugging at me to set aside my job as a public school teacher so that I  might pursue someone else's children; my own.  Actually, the tugging started two years ago, but, of course, it took me a while to be still enough to really feel it.  It's been a year now since I heard God calling me to obedience.  What had been a major (and I do mean major) issue of pride was now also an issue of obedience.  Let's start with the pride thing first.  You see, in my mind, I'd made my own neat little list of "Nevers."  From an early age, my mama had warned me never to write that list, but I did.  It went a little something like this:

NEVERS
#1 -- I will never marry someone without dating them for an entire year.  (Meet Brantley, my husband of almost six years.)
#2 -- I will never, ever be a stay-at-home-mom. (Keep reading this blog.)
#3 -- I will never be in direct sales (Are you familiar with Blessings Unlimited?)
#4 -- I will never drive a minivan. (I went from a red Mustang to a gray Equinox... might as well have been a minivan.)
#5 -- I will never even think about driving a minivan. (They sure do have lots of extra room, and they ride so smooothly.)
#6 -- I will never homeschool my children.  (I'm currently reading a book about homeschooling.  It will probably be a blog topic later.)

I was, and still am, an achiever.  I thrive off of accolade.  I didn't study hard in high school for nothing, and I certainly didn't go through four years of college focusing on my nearly 4.0 GPA for nothing.  I had chased my dream of becoming a teacher, and I was going to be a fine one.  And, for a season, God allowed me to do that.  That was before children and still for a short period as a mother with my first child.  After all that I had accomplished, I wasn't NEVER going  to become one of those girls who didn't work, who sat at home, who spent her husband's hard earned money, and who joined a group of other women and their children for playdates.  I was going to be useful.  I was going to contribute to my family's income.  I was going to make our dreams come true.  I was going to live my life.  I was going to be a good mother, too.  There was a disconnect there, and the ends weren't meeting due to my pride.  I was going to do what I felt was the right thing to do. 

But then, He really started to tug.  I had just landed my dream job as an agriculture teacher here in the town where we live in a small rural school.  Not to mention that we were just a couple of months away from welcoming our second son into the world.  I did my best to ignore His tugging from the beginning.  The ignorance made me miserable. I rationalized.  I justified.  I cried.  I prayed.  I ran. I cried more.  He pursued.  There on a path in the woods on a hot August afternoon, I finally surrendered to Him.  I couldn't run anymore. (That's definitely a figurative "run" since I was so swollen and hormonal at the time that literal "running" was not even an option.)  I realized I had two choices: obedience or disobedience. I could answer my true calling as a mother, or I could turn away and chase after other "good" things.

Please, please, if you're a mother who works outside of the home, do not consider this my way of saying your choice is wrong.  That's the fartherest thing from the truth.  This is simply my testimony of one of the most humbling experiences of my life.  This is how God has broken me and is building me back, piece by piece.  I now see both sides of the story, but I am using completely new eyes.

Honestly, it's been a struggle over the past year in several ways.  There isn't really a day that goes by that Satan doesn't try to tempt me back into pride and disobedience.  I feel vulnerable.  Some days I feel like He wins.  That is until I remember this verse from the gospel of John: "The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy.  I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly."  God truly wants me to experience life more abundantly through Him.  I can only do this when I set aside my pride and come to Him in obedience.  Being at home full time with my sons is exactly what He wants me to do through this season of my life.  Satan tugs, but God's the big kid at the back of the line who tugs even harder for those who call Him Lord and Savior.  He's going to win me over.