Tortillas don't freeze well - The Freezer Meal Adventure

Before my son James was born, I sat down and made 52 meals and froze them.
It was insane.
If you're thinking of undergoing such a task you might be interested in our process. If you're just interested in freezing meals, I'd skip down to the aftermath where I share a couple lessons learned, the most important of which is TORTILLAS DON'T FREEZE WELL.

Prepping:

So a lot of planning went into this.

First I picked out meals. Just searching Pinterest. I started looking for freezer meals specifically but then figured anything could be frozen so grabbed any recipe that seemed delicious.
Then I counted them up. 52 meals for 60 days. Waaaay too many! Most casseroles would take us a couple days to eat. Each soup recipe could feed an army. But, again, we were only here for 2 months and a normal stable family could afford some overflow into subsequent months.

VITAL PREP
The most important step was the shopping list. I made an excel document with column B as the grocery item. The following columns was a recipe each and I would type how many of a grocery item I needed. Then I would add up everything in column A. It wasn't the prettiest system in the world but I had a master shopping list. (Recipes vary on their use of quantity vs weight vs volume. This was a complication for sure!)

I printed off each recipe.
I separated out which recipes could have the chicken pre-cooked vs which ones had special seasonings or preparation.
Then I wrote in the margin the prep time vs the cook time for each item vs no cook. (So if something needed sauteed onions then mushrooms then add other soup ingredients then boil for 20 mins, I'd say it needed 10 minutes of prep before it could be left on its own) (No cook - Some casseroles required no cooking other than maybe chicken which could be precooked. Such items required no stove time which was nice.)
I separated out the soups.
And ordered everything by the amount of time they needed to cook.

Luckily, I had my mom, my sister, and my husband with me to help shop, so I tore the shopping list into thirds based on the type of food and gave out a list for produce, dry goods, and meat and dairy respectively. I flitted around helping each when they needed help deciphering, deducing, or deciding.
Three full grocery carts pulled into the checkout.
The groceries were $500. About $10 a recipe and *a lot* less per meal.

Cooking:

We started by cooking pounds and pounds of chicken. Most either needed to be cubed or shredded. My husband caught up on a lot of TV shredding chicken.
I had wanted to cut all the veggies before we started cooking so everything could just be grabbed and thrown in but that didn't turn out to be the most practical of decisions. And we cut as we went.

I picked a couple recipes that needed some time to simmer on the stove and got those underway while I turned to the recipes that were No Cook.
The goal was to finish as many recipes as possible both to keep up morale and to help clear the living room table of it's stock.

It took a while, and was much faster when my mother and sister were home helping, but all things considered, it went off without a hitch.

Aftermath:

As I stated, we made way too much food.
We should have bought smaller casserole dishes as each one supplied us with multiple meals and the constant reheating wasn't good for the quality.
They took FOREVER to unfreeze. We could lay them out the day before and they'd still be in the oven for hours. (Though we have reason to believe that oven wasn't the best.)
Soups were the best. They thawed much more quickly than the casseroles as they could be stirred and were very delicious.
Freezing flour tortillas in a casserole is a BAD IDEA! They degrade into mush. It's like eating raw dough. Don't do it. (Corn tortillas also degrade but it gives a tamale texture and doesn't trigger the gag reflex.) (Burritos are fine. It's the being submerged in wetness that kills them.)


It was so nice not to have to worry about cooking with a newborn. And living out in the country, not having to worry about making trips to the grocery store was also nice. It simplified life and I, a planner, loved the process!

The Parable of the Newborn's Needs

I know it's the most horrible thing in the world or whatever to be wistfully anticipating the next stage in my child's life instead of just enjoying this one.
But.
I can't wait until my kid can actually, like, love me.
I hear mommies talk about how their kid crawl to them for books, or cuddles, or milk or about how their kid spends "nursing time" stroking mommy's face and babbling incoherently, about how their kids reach out and love their mommies.
My kid, through no fault of his little 3 1/2 week old self, doesn't really indicate that he loves me. Or that I really even exist.
If he stops crying when I pick him up, it's because he found comfort and he's pleased about being comforted. If he stops crying to nurse, its because he's pleased to have food. If he stops crying after a diaper change, it's because he's pleased to have discomfort taken out of his life. The most I get is a brief moment of eye contact before they lose focus on me. He's pleased with the things I give him, but he doesn't seem to realize that it's me who gives it. That there's an entity whose heart swells every time I look at him. Who's taking the time to meet these needs. Instead, he fusses and cries until his grievances in life are gone.
One day, and I know it will come, he'll see me and love me. He'll learn to come to me when he needs something and will trust me to take care of those needs. He'll come to me when he doesn't need something too. He'll come to me just to cuddle. He'll come to me just to babble about the little things a baby spends his time worrying about. And I just can't wait to be loved by the person I love so very very much.

But as I shove the pacifier into my son's mouth for the umpteenth time, I can't help but wonder if God feels the same way about many of His children.

My Birth Story - Rated G

At 41 weeks exactly, we went to the midwife to do a biophysical on the baby, which is essentially an ultrasound that checks on various things, to make sure everything's cool, that there's no need to panic and induce.
Well, my kid wasn't practice breathing, which is normally totally fine, but it was test time and they wanted to see that he could. So they poked and prodded and, in general, harassed the baby until he started breathing. Cool. Whatever. Did that have effects on the rest of this story? I don't know.
What I do know is that night my contractions which had never hurt me before, became back labor pains.
Back labor = not good
Just in case you didn't know or couldn't deduce.
So we waited and timed and what not and came to the hospital the next evening when we were about 3-5 minutes apart for at least 1 minute (be thinking more like 2...) for more than an hour.
I can listen and follow directions despite what my kindergarten teachers said about me!

We took a last minute picture at the house before we left.

Our present residence

The day before delivery belly shot

We get all the way to the hospital, 

(which for some reason didn't have a pre-registration system set up, so I had to figure out where to go and no one believed me when I said I wasn't being induced. ("Are you here to be induced?" "No." "You're here to be induced?" "No." "Why are you here?" "To have a baby..." It was ridiculous.) And no one understood where I was supposed to go even though I told them. And it took forever to be admitted. And then! to....)

find out we're not in active labor yet. Lame. But we were told that we shouldn't go home. It's been long enough after the due date and the back labor was noteworthy enough that I should hang out. The word c-section was mentioned with concern, so we got right down to making it to active labor. Because you can totally just will these things to happen. (Sure why not.) 2 hours later I was!! 

Then, many hours later, I hadn't progressed at all. 

Either my contractions weren't strong enough or the baby was too big. So the first step was dose me up with Pitocin (a drug to induce labor) which is known to be beyond painful, and after having gone over 12 hours in back labor, many of which were active labor, all night long, we decided to get the epidural. Then she told me that I needed an IV.

I did have a minor emotional breakdown then. The staff was really confused why I was so distraught at the idea when I taking everything like a champ for so long. My only other time getting an IV was during my D&C. I felt like I had failed again. (Because, you know, I was an emotional, hormonal, exhausted, pained woman who was told her plan wasn't going to work.) The midwife assured and reassured me that I had done well. That I had fought long and hard without anything to show for it and that was impressive in and of itself. 

So they shot me up. 

Now, I have an issue with experiencing numbness.... Namely? I hate it. So I wasn't in love with this epidural thing. But the contractions went by without my noticing until transition. Which was a nice change in pace and gave me a time to rest before transition. During that time, the pressure and the urge to push were very noticeable

Even just two days later it's hard to believe I was that big...

 The other problem was that the kids head was turned so he was looking at my side instead of my back, His ridiculously large head wasn't able to help me progress in labor with gravity backing it. So we needed to turn him. In order to do that, they cut off the circulation(? who knows whether or not I could feel my leg anymore. The epidural made everything numb. But I certainly felt like it was cutting off the circulation!) of one leg by placing a huge exercise ball shaped like a peanut on top of it and propping my other leg up on the ball. And somehow that managed to do the trick.

Doesn't this look like it would kill my lower leg? Yes. The answer is yes. 

There was a peanut shaped exercise ball between my legs to help turn the baby's head.

When my mom arrived, the midwife went on and on about how well he took care of me. She did not overstate. 

So after a few other positions and just some general waiting on contractions, I finally got through transition and was ready to push. 

This isn't pushing. This is the pressure of the contractions.

So what does pushing look like?

My mother and photographer was recruited to hold my leg as I pushed, so there are no further pictures of that subject matter. For better or worse... idk. 

They asked me if I wanted a mirror. 

Um. No. That's ok. Pretty sure I'm not looking so hot...

And then they told me to push. 

Generally, women under epidurals take two hours of pushing. I took half an hour. My midwife had changed to this Nigerian woman who kept going on about how I was such a strong woman in that nice accent. Let me tell you, in that accent you'll believe just about anything. 

For instance, I believe her when she told me that tugging on a sheet would be a good idea. I was supposed to hold the center and she would hold the two ends and throw her weight into the tug of war contest that randomly commenced in the middle of my labor. 

Great, now I'm going through labor and my hands hurt because the sheet cut into them. Awesome.  

But eventually the kid came out. They told me not to push. Something about projectile babies being a weapon and not permissible on hospital grounds... I don't know, I was pretty drugged up.

But they did keep telling me to look. So I'd look and there'd be this huge creepy bluish thing covered with whiteness coming out of me. So naturally, I'd look away. 

"Look, look!"

I'd look again. The scene had not become any less nauseating. 

No, thanks, nurse. 

So then they hand me this thing. 

Now, it may have been the drugs, but I have heard other moms speak of similar sentiments. They handed me that thing and I was just like: what is this? why are you handing this to me?

Drug induced confusion

Fatherhood awe

Still confused

Still awed

Both reactions together now

"Oh! My husband is happy!"

"Yay! We're kissing now!"

And then Jacob cut the cord. 

He was about as equally unimpressed with the "magic" of his moment as I was with mine. 

But still pretty stoked about the whole thing....

Baby James was starting to adapt a normal coloration and I was becoming more inclined...

And then they took him to a corner of the room to be weighed. 

Jacob asked me if I wanted him to stay with me. 

Of course, I want you to stay with me! I know you like that creepy looking huge thing for whatever reason, but you need to stay with me. 

So Jacob stayed and everybody else left, because no one's really interested in the mother after the baby comes out. 

And then he was weighed.

Aww... That's a way more attractive face!
(At the present point of the story, I was still confused.)

Now, this whole time, I was just in a state of: what? what is this? what did I go through this for? what is this thing?

And then they called out to me. 9lbs and 9 oz

And I lost it. 

That's what I had worked so hard for. 9lbs and 9 oz of baby that I carried for 10 months, that was reluctant to descend, reluctant to engage, but was here now.

Now, I was holding him. 

Ok, I don't look much more enthusiastic, but I'm also on drugs, so....

Daddy finally got his chance to hold the 9lbs 9oz bundle of joy

And that will be his life for the next very very long time. 

Baby James!!

So, yeah, that's my story. Without all the nitty gritty details that, frankly, I don't even want to know about....

I'm recovering well. We asked to leave the hospital the next day, and everyone was super chill about that until the last midwife to come on shift... who had spent all of five minutes with me and decided I was being incredible irresponsible for leaving so soon???

"Why?" And seriously, she made my confidence waver and I had my listening ears turned on to see what she had to say. 

"The first days home are hard!" "...how does delaying it help?"

"There won't be nurses to take care of you!" "Or to disrupt my sleep.... and I'm feeling great."

"You said your kid didn't latch great!" "Yeah, I'm not impressed but the lactation consultants seem to think it's ok."

And so on. 

It boiled down to "that's not how we do it" and I don't give that much weight. 

So we went home. 

Things have been great. This pregnancy ordeal was obviously just the beginning, but we're all doing well.

Working with Super Small Languages

I went to a mission's committee meeting and some questions were brought up about the size of the language group that we're going to work with. There was some concern pertaining to whether or not a small language group was worth the financial investment.
Now, I really hate these questions.
Because I don't really have a good answer for them.
Because I've never struggled with this issue.
I have really never been put off by the sizes of Papuan Language groups and wondered if they were too small to merit my attention. And why spend time formulating an answer to a question I've never had? Well, because other people, potential supporters, are now asking these questions and I should be able to respond in a way slightly more reassuring than gaping. So it's time to come up with something a bit more polished. And this is what I have:

Before we begin looking at my well formulated response, let's provide you with some numbers to orient yourself with. PNG has 800 languages and 7 million people. This inevitably results in some small language groups. Most languages have less than 3000 speakers. Only 8 have more than 50,000. African languages are way bigger. Jacob was going to work with a people group of 100,000 and that was considered on the smaller side.


All the languages we work with are small languages 
Bible Translation has been going on for a really long time. And our predecessors were super intelligent people who understood that translations into a larger language would have a greater impact globally. This is why we have the Bible in English and approximately 400 other languages. With these translations completed, 95% of the world can read the Bible in their heart language!
Which means that the remaining 5% people are divided among 6,700 languages.
At this point in the game, every language still needing a translation is a small language.

Now, one could point out that we should continue in the pattern of the translators who went before us, going to the largest languages groups first and working our way down, but allow me to tell you about the Within Our Reach Campaign. This is an inter-organizational effort committed to getting a translation project started in every language in the world by 2050. That is not that far away! Which means that which language project gets started first is negligible. (And I do know people who are looking at working with the aforementioned African language.)

So why should I be the one to work with a tiny language group?

1. I feel called to Papua New Guinea. 
   This is where God told me to be. And it has super small language groups. So I will probably work with a super small language. 
2. I don't have a problem working with a super small language group
   If future translators do struggle with the idea of investing a couple decades of their life to a super small language group, then I am glad that I left some small language groups for them to work with, as I don't have such a struggle. 
3. I like the idea of working with a super small language group. 
   As in, not only do I not mind, but if given a choice either way, I may even choose to work with a super small language. 
1. It makes my job easier. 
   When you have to develop a writing system for an entire people group or translate the Bible, there can be some differences in thought among the people group. Some people will have various preferences for alphabet choices or biblical key terms. Some preferences will be so strong that to ignore them will estrange some people from the work that we're doing. A smaller language group means fewer people to have problems with and an easier time sorting out the best way to proceed. (The language Jacob was looking at was actually larger when you considered the population in other countries. But the Bible has been translated for the speakers in Burkina Faso and the people of Togo refuse to use it. Now a whole new translation project must be started! Lame.)
2. Better discipleship
   When dealing with fewer people, you're better able to interact and build relationships throughout the people group. We'll be able to visit the various villages of the language group and have relationships with the church leaders, coaching them on how to study and apply the Scriptures and how to share that knowledge with the whole village. 

We know the parables that Jesus told of a shepherd leaving 99 of his sheep to find the one that wandered off. We don't know what Jesus would do should he have 7,000,000,000 sheep and 3000 went off in one direction while 100,000 went off in another direction, but I believe that I was pointed off to follow those 3000 and I'm going to trust that Jesus has a plan for the rest of the sheep. 

Don't Stick Your Finger in My Pregnancy

It has really gotten too much to bear! 

I don't know why people insist on doing it! Other than their claims "I'm just trying to be nice!" which overlooks a couple important points I will touch on in a moment. 

The only reason I've found that seems to make sense is that: pregnancy is beautiful. 

It's just beautiful. 

A woman round with child imminently about to go on a life-changing adventure. 

What could be greater than that!

And as a consequence, other people, strangers, want to be a part of that. They have a compulsive need to interact with the pregnant woman so they can feel that in some small way they've had a part of that beautiful pregnancy.  

I hate that. 

My pregnancy isn't something for strangers to snatch a piece of as they pass by! It's mine. Mine! Perhaps this sounds selfish, but, at times, it can feel very violating. Something that is mine is snatched from my possession and waved about, being soiled by other people's eyes, fingers, thoughts upon it. I hate it. 

But let's look back on that "just being nice/friendly/neighborly/whatever" argument. 

True story:

I manage to get out of the car in the parking lot of Walmart. My child's head is so low that rocking my pelvic bone (which is involved in, you know, walking) is super painful. (Also, rolling over in the middle of the night or trying to get out of bed which occurs every hour or so. So, sleep-wise, I'm not doing so hot.) I stand up and waddle inside looking to be in and out quickly as quickly as possible. But, of course, I have just stood up. Which means my first stop in Walmart is at the lavatory. Gross. 

I am out of the lavatory and looking for my husband, who went to get a cart. We have just been reunited and are about to be off into the bowels of the beast when a woman comes up behind me, steps up just a pace in front of me, before extending her arm at me and says, "You ready to go?!"

...Who are you? Go where? Do I know you?

"You ready to go?!" she gesticulates at my stomach. 

"Ah ha ha!" I force out of my mouth as I've finally realized that she's talking about my pregnancy. But this one is worse than most. It appears that she wants me to dialogue with her about my pregnancy. 

"You're pregnant! You ready to go!?!"

At this point, I turned around and walked away. 

My mommy always said that if I didn't have anything nice to say, not to say anything at all.

Behind me I hear her shout at my husband, "I was just trying to be nice!"

Ok. Nothing you have done here, by any stretch of the imagination, was nice. I am tired and trying to get out of here. And you, you are not only getting in my way but acting like my pregnancy is yours to comment on. You're a stranger!

Now, in sharp juxtaposition to this, on the same Walmart outing, which is to say, my mood and condition is exactly the same, if not worsened by the above encounter, I had the following encounter: 

Our items were collected and we were off to the checkout line. Between us and the line was a table for cable equipped with cable salespeople. Generally, when we pass this table, we say "We don't own a TV" and keep on walking as the salespeople slink back to their table waiting to pounce on the next passerby. This time the call to us wasn't for cable, but a small request to explain our intentions with the contents of our cart. 

I looked down at our cart and back at them. 

"Pumpkin Spice Pancakes!"

And a dialogue commenced. Pumpkin. Fall. Other baked goods. Until finally:

"May I ask when you're due?"

"Oct 14th!"

"That's a good time, you know, with..." and more talk on the joys of fall before any attention was redirected at my pregnancy.

These people didn't feel like my pregnancy belonged to them to call out to me as it pleased them! These people felt like I, as a person, was worth investing time for (an albeit short) relationship with me. The comments about my pregnancy weren't a desperate attempt to stick their fingers in the beauty of pregnancy. They were a furthering of our relationship.  

I may never see Elizabeth and James the cable salespeople again, but I will remember them fondly. 

Falling in the middle of the spectrum, lies our encounter at Moe's:

I was standing up to leave, when a mother with approximately a throng of children looks up from her food and says to me, "Wow! You're about to pop!"

It required nothing of me and I continued to leave. But as I was walking to my car, I just had to wonder: why? Why was it so important to you to tell me that? Why couldn't you have commented on my pregnancy to your husband after I left? (It is, of course, the desire to stick her fingers in my pregnancy. It apparently doesn't count unless the pregnant lady knows you've commented.) But pointing out my expanding size maybe fun for you, full of nostalgia maybe, but for me it's a 20 lb bowling ball strapped underneath my skin. It is actually not nice to comment. 

To all of you who claim that your finger sticking is "just being nice", holding a pregnant woman hostage to the requirements of social niceties to strangers is not nice. We did not leave the house to be hassled by strangers who "know" the gender of our child based off how our stomachs look or who want to know how ready we are to be done with this stage of life. And while we pregnant women are aware that you didn't know that you were the 15th person today to inquire about our bump, you probably are. And that's just too many. 

So instead of "being nice" by commenting on how it looks like I'm real close now (at 7 months pregnant), be real nice in quiet practical ways. Let us cut in the checkout or bathroom line. Slip us a $5 giftcard to the store we're shopping at and wish us well. Or simply pull your cart over to the side while we're coming down the aisle. 

(I do believe than an exception to the above is when a pregnant woman comes to an event intended for socialization. Here, she did leave the house to talk with strangers! So, here it's ok, but remember you'll be better received if you start a relationship with her first, then her impending bundle of poop.)

Dallas vs Hampton Roads: Driving Edition

There are always fun differences as you travel to different places. Here are a few I've noticed from my recent transition back to life in Hampton Roads. So if you're moving from Dallas to Norfolk or vice versa, or if you're just really intrigued by small cultural differences within the States, I present ...

Dallas vs Hampton Roads: Driving Edition

1. Pedestrians vs Drivers
   When I was living in Dallas, I had this fear, an overwhelming fear, that someone would jump out in front of my car and I would kill them. "It's one of my goals in life," I would say, "to not accidentally kill someone." While Jacob could understand why I did not want to commit manslaughter, he did not really understand why this was a concern of mine. Until we arrived in Norfolk. Twice during the first week of our time here, we witnessed very very close calls. Closer than running out into the street like a moron (which we all know is danger) but "Augh! That man narrowly escaped being hit by that vehicle!!" Now Jacob knows the fear. Now the fear is real.
   On the other hand, driving in general is far better in the Hampton Roads area than Dallas. To drive in Dallas is to flirt with death. They are aggressive and feel entitled. If they are about to miss their exit, they have no qualms about shooting in front of you across three lanes of traffic to get there. They are the kind of people who reverse on the interstate to avoid making a U-turn. In Norfolk, driver's don't try to kill one another. It's quite nice.
2. Downtown
   In my first week in Dallas, I went downtown everyday. I had thought that this is what you did in Dallas. I got lost multiple times a day until, Wednesday, I came to accept that getting lost was a feature of driving in Dallas. (I still stand by that.) Most people look at me like I'm crazy. "Why would you do that? Why go downtown with threat of death over you?" Finally, coming home, I remember why that seemed like a good idea at the time.
   In Norfolk, everything is downtown. Does a day pass when we don't find ourselves passing the Scope? Probably not. Jacob at first thought I was manipulating things to force us into Downtown a lot. No. That is just where you go.
3. Smog
   In Dallas, there are smog warnings. Sometimes construction signs declare that you should roll up your car windows and try to stay inside as smog levels have risen to concerning levels. I never really noticed or smelled any difference.
   Norfolk smells like poison. I don't know if their emissions laws are super lax here because they haven't hit the problem that Dallas has. But, as a pregnant lady, Norfolk is rank with the smells of various emissions, burning rubber, construction odors and more. I've been surprised at how many different ways poison can smell, but a short drive down i-264 will give you quite an inventory.
4. Size
   In Dallas, everything is spread really really far apart. Dallas is the pretty much in the middle of nowhere which means they have a lot of room to sprawl. Hampton Roads, on the other hand, is nestled in a bunch of water ways, giving us some distinct building limits. So we crowd together and build up. Everything is about 20 minutes from where I'm staying in Norfolk. In Dallas, everything was at least 10 minutes away and all the cool stuff was 40 minutes away. (Consequently, we had boring lives. Live in North Dallas, trust me.)

Why Pray for the Will of the Lord?

In January, our Bible Study asked: What is something that you can pray for this year that, if it happened, it would totally and 100% be God who did it, no doubt?
I said, to be fully funded by the end of the year.
Jacob said, no, to be fully funded by my birthday. (which is Oct 3rd)
Fast forward a few weeks and we find out we're pregnant and due (drum roll, please) mid-October.
So look at that perfect timing! Our outrageous pray would have us financially set just in time to turn our attention to birthing our child.
Needless to say, we feel pretty good about this. We kinda feel like God placed that outrageous prayer on our lips when God prompted our Bible Study to ask this question, because He knew when we were going to have our family addition.

Do I think that just because God is cool with this timeline, that meeting it is a given?
No. Why? Because God kinda has this thing where He wants everyone to know that He is awesome. It's kinda a theme that permeates the entire Bible and time up to today.
So I expect that God will make me ask for it, beg for it, and scream that I can't do this on my own, before He makes a grand entrance. And in the spirit of beseeching the Lord for our needs, we ask others to come and pray with us, for us.
And on occasion, when I ask, "Can you pray that we'll be fully funded by Oct 3rd?", someone will bow their heads and pray, "and Lord, may your will be done."
...
.....
Now, I desire the will of the Lord in my life. I do, really I do.
But I just don't understand why people refuse to pray for specifics!

I think back to Abraham, who did not pray to God, "Hey, God, you seem pretty peeved right now. So if it's your will to totally obliterate Sodom, may it be done." No. He bargained with God. "Would you destroy the city if there were 50 good people left? Great! ...but what about 45? Ok! Good! How about 10? what if there were just 10?" (Now, it turns out that there weren't 10... But God did spare Lot's family!)

Moses in Exodus 32 talked God down from smiting all the Israelites. Not in the numbers game that Abraham used but by appealing to God's reputation. "God, if you kill off all these people, then the Egyptians you just rescued us from will think that we weren't actually your people. Plus, you promised that the Sons of Abraham would be a great nation. And inherit the world forever. That can't happen if everyone dies." So God relented. (Only to have the Israelites disobey again and punish them with a plague.)

Jesus tells a parable about the persistent widow in Luke 18, who came to an unjust judge repeatedly, asking for the same thing, again and again. Now, the judge didn't actually care about the woman, he just wanted her to stop bothering him. So finally he gave her what she wanted. And Jesus said, "Listen, if a shameless judge would grant her justice, why wouldn't your awesome God answer your prayers?" It seems that Jesus is trying to tell us we "should always pray and not give up" (Luke 18:1)

Now, I know that Jesus, when He demonstrates praying, includes that bit, "your will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven." But I think his prayer is a bit of a vague framework. I think "your will" here is more of a general,  that all the nations would praise you, kind of will. Which is totally what Jacob and I are after. And now we'd like to discuss specifics.
And I know that on the mount, Jesus prays for this cup to be taken from him, but if it's the Lord's will, he'll let himself be crucified. But, again, I think asking God, "must I obey You, because I don't like what You want me to do" is different than "will You in Your great majesty please take care of these needs by this time? Please."

Outside of the Lord's prayer and Jesus' example being the reason for this tendency, I wonder if it comes from praying for healing. Which is hard. You want to pray that people get better, but you're afraid that they won't no matter your prayers. And, in the event they don't, it's easier to say that it was the will of God, which you prayed for, that your prayers not being answered or receiving an answer you didn't like. For some even, these words might be a gentle reminder to the grieving that God has a plan even if we don't like it, which I do think is appropriate.

I just don't think we need to give God permission to do what He wants. He is going to totally do what He wants. Even if we can fathom why He wanted that, God does what He wants. But in prayer, we get to come before Him. To repent. To praise. To thank. And to beseech. We get to ask for things.

And we're asking to be fully funded by Oct 3rd!
And we ask you to join us.
(And you can pray however you want. We appreciate your prayers even if you pray for the will of the Lord! :) )

"Then Jesus told his disciples [this] parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up." Luke 18:1

Using our Kid as a Strategy

Jacob and I have spent our whole lives with the expectation that we would have children and we have been excited by that. So when I say that our kid is a strategy move for our ministry, I don't mean exclusively. We want the child for the reason most parents want a child aaaannd a few extra reasons...

Right before we pack our bags and head off into the jungle for the first time may seem like an absurd time to plan to have a child, but here's why it isn't:

1. Status
When Jacob and I were in the village, married, in 2012, we were put with the teens of marriageable age (whether or not married) who had no children. In the village, you weren't considered an adult unless you had kids. (I believe you could also skip that step and be an old person, but you needed some years to pull that off.) We feel like we can do a better job building relationships with people and doing our jobs if our peers are considered the adults of the village and not their angsty teens. For that to happen, we need a child.

2. Language Learning and Relationship Building
If you've ever tried to step out side of your comfort zone while people were looking at you like you were a circus animal and might do a trick or something, you know how valuable it can be to have the focus removed from you. When doing language learning and relationship building, there's a lot of forcing yourself to go outside and talk with people about.... ..... Forcing friends is hard. But when you sit a baby in the dirt, all the attention shifts to the kid and you have an easier time practicing your language and you have something to bond with nationals over. Aren't babies cute?

Furthermore, when our kid gets older, he will have grown up with this language as one of his own. When we come to a place of struggling with words, he might very well be able to step in and save the day. And even more impressively, he could do this with biblical concepts I can't seem to explain well to the nationals and we've found ourselves stuck on. My little translator in training!

3.  Life is More Fun with Kids
You can feel free to disagree with this one, but children are filled with wonder at the littlest things and that's contagious. I think back to some of my least favorite times in the bush and they usually involve me sitting on something I don't want to be sitting on for hours. But having a kid means I get to watch him toddle around and explore his new world. I get to focus in on him and not on - is that ANOTHER bug on my skin?!?!?!? On painfully boring days in the bush, I can pull out some bubbles and watch my kid race after them. Also, Jacob and I have a worthy excuse to bring Legos duplos to the bush.

So as you can see, for the sake of status, skills, and sanity, maybe making a baby right before heading out wasn't as crazy as you had originally been wondering!

Also, be sure to check out our 10 reasons (in more general terms) we're stoked to have a jungle kid.

Look At My Baby!!

Ok, well, you can't look at him right now, but soon that will change!!
And when that does, we're going to send out announcements!!! As is proper.
We're also going to update our prayer cards to include the new member of our team.
(I'm not sure when we'll do this, as I'm pretty sure that babies get cuter once they get a couple months under their belt, so these pictures probably won't come out simultaneously.)

But here's my issue. With baby announcements, I could totally just pick my favorite people and hunt down their addresses and send them announcements. But with prayer cards, the more people who have our pretty faces stuck to their refrigerator and pray for us when they pass by, the better. But I don't know who all has/wants/uses our prayer card. Therefore, I need you to tell me if you'd like an updated one. And while we're at it, go ahead and let me know if you'd like to see my bundle of joy in print before his careful chosen announcement goes on Facebook for all the *other* friends to see.

Now, if you're a monthly supporter:
I'm just going to go ahead and assume you want both.
If, however, you have moved since committing, please send me your new address just in case our records aren't updated.

If you are not a monthly supporter:
Your name is not on my given list. You, then, have two choices. You can either become a monthly supporter! ;) Or you can send me your address and let me know which one (or both) you'd like to receive in the mail and I will hook you up!

You can send your address to elizabeth.smith@pbti.org  or jacob.smith@pbti.org OR you can send us a Facebook message. Jacob will actually be doing all the consolidating of the addresses into a nifty mail merger thingy, because he's the details guy in this marriage, but if you're like, "I don't know him! I don't want to email him!" that's ok. You don't have to email a stranger. I'll just forward it along for you.

Top Ten Reasons I'm Stoked to Raise a Jungle Child

Is there such thing as a stupid question?
The sassy side of me screams YES!
The linguist in me acknowledges that there is probably some kind of miscommunication or an assumption that I have that the questioner does not.
So when someone asks me, "Are you taking your baby with you to the jungle?"
...
There's a sarcastic voice in my head that says, "No. We figured we'd leave him with a colony of Texan armadillos. I've heard they're very nurturing."
Thankfully, there's also a logical side of my brain. It says that, as much as I find any alternative to be absurd, they probably think me taking a helpless infant to the jungle is absurd. While I wonder what other answer they're looking for, they are probably desperate to see another answer that isn't as horrible as the simple "yes."
But, in case you were wondering, I will be taking my child to the jungle with us, and I am super excited about it! Let me tell you why.

Top Ten Reasons I'm Stoked to Raise A Jungle Child

10. No clothing
Small children in Papua New Guinea run around naked. Older children wear a pair of shorts until they are literally falling off of them. Older children still receive a t-shirt and shorts until the same fate befalls them. As I hear parents lamenting about how much the Back-to-School wardrobe is running them, I just smile and think of my little naked village boy, who, one day, might need me to spend a couple of dollars on shorts for.
9. Coconuts
Coconuts grow at the very top of palm trees. I don't know how to climb a palm tree, but little village children are great at it. And my child will be a little village child. So whenever I need my thirst to be quenched, I can send him scrambling up a tree with a machete and have him throw a couple down.
8. Sweet Machete Skills
From the time they can wobble on two feet, village children grab hold of those useful bush knives and start "helping". They learn at an early age that machete's are sharp and to be careful. But they also learn sweet skills. Like how to open that coconut my son just fetched for me with a single, well-placed thwack.
7. No cars
As often as I hear parents shouting to their oblivious child to look both ways before running into the street with reckless abandon, I am so glad that there aren't cars cruising through the village. The fact that their loud and stinky diesel engines aren't fouling the atmosphere is secondary to my child not getting smashed under their tires.
6. No buses
Along the same vein as cars, there are no buses! No waking up at ridiculous hours of the morning to pull grumpy children out of bed and race the clock to see their clothes donned, their teeth brushed, and their shoes put on. No standing outside waiting for that bus to round the corner so we can retreat to our house and find where we left our coffee in the chaos of the morning.
5. Homeschool without qualms
Though even if there were a bus, I suppose we wouldn't have to worry about it as we're homeschooling. But we get to homeschool without the worry of whether or not it's the best choice. We don't have to stress about how much social interaction and how many extracurricular activities they're missing out on. We don't have to agonize over our qualifications to teach various subjects. We just simply don't have another option. We homeschool by necessity. (Though I anticipate enjoying it!)
4. No Screen time issues
In our age of media, issues of screen-time become more and more complicated. In our home, however, the introduction of addicting screen games can be totally avoided and not perpetuated by neighboring children. Our son will believe that the good Lord invented the screen so that he could read books on it and complete his homework. My little oblivious son.
3. No materialism
It's pretty inevitable that when you declare your home to be in a place where children and pigs fight for scraps, and rocks and seeds are used to play Jacks, where eating meat is a treat, and malnutrition runs rampant, my son will not throw a temper tantrum because I didn't buy him a new Tonka truck.
2. It takes a Village
You often hear that it takes a village to raise a kid. We'll get to try this out ourselves! We'll have the entire village watching out for our precious cargo, meaning that we can let him go tromping about with his friends without worry of his safety. He may have a number of pseudo-moms taking a swat at him, but hopefully that will only teach him that he needs to be good all the time and not just around mom. The defiant "you're not my mom" I hear so often will be absurd as our son will know that you don't get to opt out of listening to others but you should always mind the words of someone who is guiding you to the proper course of action.
1. They'll be Missionary Kids
Missionary Kids, more commonly known as MKs, often get a bad rap for being really really weird. And that rap is often justified. But anecdotal evidence has me convinced that if they're raised by social normal parents then they'll be social normal kids. And, I mean, I'm awesome. But the thing that MKs really have going for them is their emphasis on family. When no one their age understands the collision of cultures that they've experienced, they turn to their family unit. MKs are open minded and well rounded kids with a firm grasp on holistic problems and global issues. They're also super great at interacting with adults.

Bonus - They're great ministry tools

There are pros and cons to living anywhere. But we're thrilled about the pros of the jungle.
Kids are born and live happy lives there everyday. While the infant mortality rate is a bit higher than we're used to here in America, most of those deaths are from preventable and curable diseases. We will have access to medications for our son and will hopefully be able to a be a blessing to other children in the village as well.

5 Registry Items I'm Most Excited about for Jungle Living

Last year, I wrote an article entitled 5 Things I Couldn't Live Without In the Jungle. Along that same line of thinking, this article is built. Of course, could I live in the jungle without them? I don't know. Obviously, I have no child and am not in the jungle. But nonetheless, I'm super stoked about these registry items:

1. Fresh Starts Food Mill (received) - While I would really love to have the Baby Bullet for use in town, this hand cranked food musher is going to be fan.tas.tic for our third dinner mate. Sure you have to overcook a portion of food for nibbler, but when no fridge and little electricity is available... I'm thrilled for this!

2. Brica Fold 'N Go Travel Booster (received) - Speaking of supper time, this is a booster chair... that folds flat! Think of the portability!!! (Portability is a big factor for the nomadic missionary.) Unlike some turn-a-chair-into-a-high-chair, this offers a little vertical aid. AND IT FOLDS FLAT!

3. KidCo Go Pod Portable Activity Seat (received) -  As much fun as those saucers looks, the ones the little kid stands (or works on standing) in, with all the toys around it to hit enthusiastically play with, they're so big! (Read: not very portable) So instead we found this!! It folds up like a camping chair! And has little velcro straps to wrap around toys, making it (almost) as stimulating as it's bulky friend. Bonus: While it doesn't wobble on that curved saucer base, it can be scooted by children savvy enough to take assisted steps, which means, the kid can move around the house (with an 8in buffer between him and the wall!) to his heart's desire!

4. Poco - Plus Child Carrier Pack (Youth) - With mobility on the mind, check out this awesome kid carrier! Structured like a hiking backpack, any jungle treks will be way more pleasant for everyone involved. It's a shame we have to wait until he's 6 months to go to PNG, as everyone knows 3 month olds are way lighter...

5. Safety 1st Complete Air 65 Convertible Car Seat - Bentley  - Since we plan on living at a road allocation and subsequently needing to purchase a Hilux, it will probably be important to also have a carseat. This one here has a cup holder! It also will hold the child well through the age where we care about him being held down, and will hopefully help protect his cranium from the aggressive roads we'll be bouncing along.

So there it is! And so far I have 3 out of 5 of these items!! Now I just need the child....

Our Sunday at Liberty Baptist

We're unaccustomed to having trees towering over us. But either side of the dirt road was lined with their 5 story majesty. After my sister skid on the gravel into the church parking lot, my feet found a great amount of pleasure finding purchase on something that didn't jerk, jostle, or bounce. Those country roads are notorious for jerking, jostling, and bouncing. My sister's inability to brush her teeth while I was putting on make-up in the mirror delayed us enough to miss the grand tour of the new infant and toddler facility at Liberty Baptist. Instead, we were ushered into the sanctuary moments before the service began. And, as all good small southern churches do, we began with announcements. Announcements about how amazing the previous week's Vacation Bible School had been, about the generosity of the children in their giving during that week, and of the decision that was made to give those funds to the missionaries of the week: us! So we got to work our way to the front of the church (in 5 inch heels, since my flats looked bad with my outfit and I didn't have any heels in between, on slippery carpet...) and, after successfully arriving, were handed a generous gift. After navigating to the back, this time uphill, the service proceeded without further surprise. Immediately following service, we headed over to the fellowship hall, across a gravel parking lot and a grassy field (the things one does to look adorable...). Upon entering, we were presented with the most adorable baby shower. A nautical theme with emphasis on the octopus. Cupcakes were assembled and decorated to form the massive cephalopod.

Little pigs and a blanket were strategically wrapped and cut to form octopus snacks. A row of tables, centerpieced by a plush octopus, was scattered with burp clothes, fabric markers, and stencils, which resulted in our plethora of adorable burp clothes. The lovely baby shower had so much work put into it and was so thoughtful for them to do for us. Afterwards, we took our gift-cards to do some serious shopping for baby, and presently we're feeling pretty good about our level of preparedness. Now we just need to decide on a state to have the baby in...

Step by Step Guide on How to Pack Like a Rockstar

We've been packing up the apartment to head on our ridiculously long-term fund-raising trip. This isn't the first time either of us has packed up our lives so we're kinda experts now. So allow me to give you a fantastic and amazing step by step guide on how to pack your home and maintain a suitable level of sanity and emotional stability at the same time!

1. Figure out what your specific packing needs are and get really specific with it.
   We needed to pack our entire home and have it split three major ways: storage, PNG, with us. But this needs to be really specific. What all piles will we actually need to have? See below:
   Going to PNG
   Going on the PD roadtrip
   Going in storage
   Going on Sale
   Going in the trash
   Baby stuff
   Clothes that can't handle the baby bump but I still want
   Clothes going to the Boutique
   Winter clothes going on the PD trip
   Clothes going on the PD trip that I won't wear before then
   Clothes I probably won't wear before going to PNG that I love too much to give away
   Clothes going to PNG
   Crafting in progress
   To be crafted before departure
   Things that aren't mine
   gifts
2. Examine this list. Decide how much time you will need and how much space you will need to masterfully rock this list like a champion. Double it.
   Even if double the time/space is more than needed, that's a lot better than having less time/space. Trust me on this one. 
3. Get your materials together.
   You're probably going to need some boxes. Maybe some bags. But you will definitely definitely definitely need the following:- Materials Bag - It seemed like the only time we could find the duct tape was 20 minutes after we had needed it and found another solution. Keep all your tape, scissors, Sharpies, bubble wrap, sanity, etc in one nifty bag and you'll be good to go!
   - An accordion folder. Or the likes to put documents and small important things in that you will need handy when you can give it a moment of your time but really need to put away right now. (Travel documents, bills, cancellation forms, etc) 
   - An Oops Bag. This is the bag that you put that bottle of Tylenol in after you've already whisked the medicine bag out of your home. Where the straight pins go after the sewing box is packed and gone.
   In each of the following steps, the accordion folder and Oops Bag should be used to the fullest extent. 
4. Cover major sections.
   Pick a genre of items and go for it. Go all the way for it. Get ALL the books taken care of. Pack ALL the picture frames. Sort through ALL the clothes. Then, when you stop and look around, you can be like, "dude, check out my hard work! Look at all those books taken care of! Bam! Imma rockstar!" And you are!
5. Pick a corner.
   Eventually you will get to a point where the packing has morphed into chaos and all the major types of things are taken care of and you just have stuff. At this point, take a deep breath. And pick a corner. You pack that corner. And you pack it good! And then step back and look at that packed corner and remind yourself that you are a rockstar. 
6. Pick the smallest space you can find. 
   Eventually corners will have too much junk (see, we've gone from stuff to junk) that you can't really just pack it up in any coherent way. Walk away from those corners that bring you down! Move to the drawers! The cupboards! The closets! The bathrooms! These smaller spaces will (usually) have like items that you can sort through quickly and pack and be done with. Whoa! Look at that empty cabinet! That was all you! Way to go, rockstar!
7. Find another set of eyes.
   Once you've done all that you are emotionally capable of doing. And have even tried to come back to the same spot the next day to take a fresh look and still cannot do a single thing more with what remains, find someone else to manage it. When I am at my wits end with a junk drawer or the likes, I send my husband in, who is not so emotional drained by packing that he can think of what to do with a handful of pens, a box of tacks, and some random beads. 
8. Toss it.
   When all is said and done, you don't need this kind of negativity in your life! When you have odds and ends littering the floor, throw them away. Will you need that screw in the future some day? Maybe. But you can spend a dollar for a bag of them at the hardware store and not have an emotional breakdown. That seems worth it for a maybe. 

Tips:

• Know when to take a break. You don't need to go until the brink of an emotional breakdown. Know when you're tired and done for the day and allow yourself to stop then. If you've doubled your time then you have time to rest. Take advantage of that time. 
• When packing books. Lay them on the shelf spine up and organize them by height. Then when you pack them in boxes, you won't have that irritating irregularity that makes it impossible to make the most out of your box's space.  

not-PMI: 2014

The event formerly known as Pioneer Missions Institute, which will be known as Resource, and is presently not known as anything, has just ended!
It's been a fantastically good time, the kind of fun that leaves you totally 100% exhausted afterwards (no, we're not finished packing...).
This year I was the Games and Activities Coordinator for the Children's Program. After designing most of the games and activities, I was on call all day in the event that one of the four classrooms needed me. In the afternoon, I orchestrated the larger games that brought all the ages together.
(The pinnacle of my efforts was the Paul's Missionary Journey Game which I will be posting about soon. Considering how much effort I put into designing that game, I figured I should share that with the world via the world wide web.) 
Jacob taught 3 short lectures for the Literacy continuing education course. The people in charge of the course said he did a great job. Unfortunately, this was right during the time of my afternoon games, so I missed them.

On Tuesday of this week, I coordinated the annual PNG Braum's Night (Braum's is an ice cream place found in this area), which really involved putting it on the schedule and making sure everyone had a ride from the rendezvous point to Braum's. (They did.) Hopefully the entire event won't collapse next year in my absence. (-sarcasm)

At 6:30 we met and then headed off for ice cream. I found myself sitting with a missionary who was on her way back to PNG after a stint off the field. Jacob was at another table with her husband. After we stood up to leave, we were invited to come back to campus and continue talking with them. We left their room at 2 am. While it was an amazing conversation that we absolutely do not regret taking the time for, we never actually recovered from getting only 5 hours of sleep...

The next morning involved me very frustrated from lack of sleep compounded with the cats having gnawed on our brand-new coffee tumblers in the night and me pouring boiling water over my hand as I tried to get coffee. (Luckily, Wednesday was a low-key game day...)

But at the end of all of it, the kids were raving about the amazing time they had had and how fun the games were, especially the Roman Soldier Game, which ironically had 3 emotional breakdowns during gameplay.

I'm almost sorry we'll miss it next year.

What's the Plan?

We have found more meat for our bare bones of a plan! Originally it was: We're going to raise money, go to Papua New Guinea some time in 2015, go to POC (How to live in the Jungle 101), and go from there. Lots of motion.

Now! The plan is:

• Our personal profiles will soon be submitted to the PNG branch. If they decide they want us (and we anticipate no problems there), they will send us our Letter of Assignment. (We want you to come and do A, B, and C, during your first term.) 
• Then! We will begin filing for our visas. (And getting new passports)
• We will do partnership development (raising money) 
• We need $5000/mth
• We need $44,000 in start-up expenses (relocation expenses, POC, solar panels, Toyota Hilux)
• We are praying to be fully funded by Oct 3rd (Jacob's Birthday). Just a couple of weeks before our son is due. We really really don't want to worry about fund-raising and infant-raising. We hope you will join us in these prayers. 
• We will leave for the Pacific Orientation Course in May 2015. The enrollment process for May POC has already begun. 
• We will spend approximately 4 months in POC learning everything from how to bake bread over an open fire to how to speak Tok Pisin. The course in completed after spending a few weeks living in a village setting. If you're still alive at the end of the time period, you pass. (Just kidding! The death toll of POC is quite low.)
• We will spend however long it takes researching and doing survey work to figure out where we're going to live and work full time. 
• This will probably be in or near the Lower Ramu River Valley, which happens to have a road that connects it to Madang. This means we won't have to spend $3000 on a helicopter every time we want to arrive or leave the village. Instead, we can buy a Toyota Hilux for an up-front cost of $35,000 and save a lot of money in the long run. 
• We will load up our child and cargo in our Hilux and go out to the village to live in a small bush house for the remainder of our term. 
• We will begin language learning. 
• If we decide that is the right location for us to be long-term, we will start figuring out how much it will be to get a house there. 
• We will go on home assignment, visit all of you, and raise money for our Americanized house, and start planning for our second term in approximately 2019. 

Bam! 4 years in 10 bullet points! That's what we call an overview!

(Please remember that there are two constants in the life of a missionary: miscommunication and change. Please don't feel lead astray if there's a change in this plan. We have to roll with the punches...)

"So how's your pregnancy been?" Conceiving after a Loss

(Note: I'm doing great! Fantastic! Really. I have some stress, yes, but compared to anyone else who is quitting their job, packing their house, getting ready to be homeless for the next who knows how long, including when they deliver their child, getting ready to ask people for money relentlessly until they get on a plane to go to a third world country where they still don't have a house with a newborn, I'm doing really really really well. This blog post looks back at February/March. That was months ago. I'm great!)

I, like every other pregnant woman, often get asked how every thing is going. But people seem really stuck on morning sickness. I'm not sure what's up with that. Even well into my 2nd trimester, people keep asking me how the morning sickness is. Maybe it's because that's the one miserable pregnancy symptom everyone knows about, so that gets overly worried about.
I haven't had morning sickness. At all. And I'm always so taken aback by that question. Because the first one, "how's your pregnancy been?" causes me to reflect and think, and then out of nowhere "have you been retching in the toilet?" What?! No! Compared to what I was just thinking about, that seems so trivial! As much as I hate throwing up, I'd rather bear that burden than this. But these generous souls have given me an out, so I take it. "No! None at all!" I smile up at them. "Good, good!" They pat me on the shoulder and walk away. And I never have to tell a soul that I'm afraid I will fail again. 

I had my D&C on December 5th. We start counting how far pregnant I am at January 7th.
Unlike the first time we were trying to conceive, I didn't take a pregnancy test every month and cry over negatives. (Mix hormones with disappointment and it gets messy!)
This time though I took got a positive on the first try. I came out of the bathroom holding a pregnancy test and bawling my eyes out. Needless to say, my husband was uncertain of what was happening. Why bring a negative test to him? Why cry if it's positive? But when he saw the positive test, fear flooded his face too.
Fear that we would miscarry again. Fear that we would have to go through this emotional turmoil again.

Every day for 6 weeks, I would replay that miscarriage again and again in my head. That moment of false hope when I saw the small form on the sonogram. The world falling down around me when there was no heartbeat. Everyday, I heard my wails echoing off the walls. Everyday, I felt the cold that the IV drip filled me with. For 6 weeks. I feared it would happen again. And I knew that if it did I would die. I knew I could shed no more tears. I knew I would go through the whole routine of the D&C shut down, going through the motions, without the emotional strength to do anything. I didn't know how long that emotional death would last.
But at 10 weeks, I had an ultrasound (that was actually not any further along than the first had been so offered me no reassurance). Nonetheless, peace came. And not the peace where I had to scream out to God to take these images away from me and let me sleep. Not the peace where I had to pray that God would protect me from my imagination (as I child with some mild paranoia issues, this was a common prayer). But a true peace that didn't need to be scrambled after, but endured. A peace where people would ask me how I was doing, and I was surprised to realize I hadn't been worrying about it.
The second trimester finally came and the doctor looked me in the eye and said, "You are not going to miscarry. Do you believe me?"
I did.
(Though if a kid dies in utero after the first trimester, they just call it by a different name. Tricky, tricky, doc.)
Our son started kicking two days before 19 weeks. Our final ultrasound looked great and the next doctor's appointment is the day after Father's Day.

Now the answer to that question?
Everything is looking great! I feel good. My child's kicks haven't become painful yet. I'm not uncomfortably large yet. None of the stress in my life is related to my kid at all. (Unless you count the diaper-shaped fabric in the to-sew pile.)

So the moral of this story is, don't lead the witness pregnant lady. Sometimes that gentle inquiry is enough of a platform for someone to open up. But it's a natural tendency to take the easy way out, so don't provide it. Give people the opportunity to gather the courage to share.

Baby in Me: At work

The day before, I had been sent home because my standing around doing nothing pulse wouldn't drop below 100 bpm for over an hour, so today I was apprehensive about getting back on the floor but decided to throw myself in.
I stand in pre-shift only because the available chairs are too deep in the tiny room overflowing with people to secure. Just standing, with my glass of water. I normally chase the calories in Sierra Mist, but I heard dehydration may have caused my heart rate yesterday. Just standing, like a normal person, holding a cup of water, like a normal person, when it fell from my grasp and shattered on the floor. Everyone looked from the mess on the floor to me. "I'm pregnant!" (Man, it's good that's not under-wraps anymore.) And the room reanimated, people laughing at my pronouncement, people rushing to get brooms, people nudging pieces of glass to a localized location. And we proceeded with my husband's mantra: sweep it up and throw it away.

Throughout the 8 hours I was on the clock, the new pregnancy klutziness did not abate. I uprighted at least three trays, most of which were caught with no damages, but one. That one involved me dumping 7 cups of water on myself and breaking a glass into the ice. That's right. Broken glass in the ice is always a bad day.

Finally this awesome day (I left with $175. It was a pretty good day!) ended. I had finished doing the condiments for Jacob and my sections while he swept. (Bending forces the belt I have to wear because my pants don't close anymore painfully into my son.) My manager  came over to check our sections. That's when I saw it. "Oh, no! Someone stole my cracker caddy!" I said staring at the poorly filled cracker caddy left on my table, "I'm going to cry," I jested in exaggeration. That's when my hormones betrayed me. My face turns red, my eyes fill with tears. "No! no! Do not cry! This is not worth crying over!" My manager is looking at me in horror and reaches out to comfort me. "No! Do not touch! It will make it worse!"
"Are you seriously-"
"I'm pregnant! I have hormones! They are acting up! I am fine!"
From beside us, Jacob speaks up, "She's fine. Can you finish checking my section?"
Our manager looks in horror from his cavalier face to my face contorted in a battle dominance: brain vs hormones.
It took a bit more effort to convince him and get on with checking our sections, but I think in the long run it was all worth it. From now on, whenever our good friend gives me a hard time, I can warn him, "Don't make me cry! You know I will!"

It was a good day.