The Velveteen Rabbit... or FrankenBunny

First, I obviously really suck at this whole keeping-up-with-a-blog thing. Oops. Second, I apologize that all of the pictures on this post were taken with my phone. It's just easier than trying to find the big camera and I'm pretty sure that the battery is dead anyways. But moving on...

Let me tell you the real story of "The Velveteen Rabbit." Lou's best friend in the whole wide world is her stuffed Bunny. My parents got Bunny as an Easter present for Lou when I was still pregnant with her, and the two of them have been on many adventures together over the last five years.

Bunny when she still had some fluff. I think Lou was about 15mo here, maybe?

Awww! Look at how cute! Long story short, Bunny is Real. If you've ever read the story of "The Velveteen Rabbit," you'll know what I mean. And something terrible happened to Bunny on Monday:

Roxy happened.

Basically, Lou took Bunny outside to play and left her and our dog ate her face off.

Joe started calling her "Zombie Bunny."

When Lou saw what happened, she broke down. She just stood there hugging her poor, mauled baby, crying and apologizing. Okay, I fully admit, I bawled too. It was absolutely heart wrenching. I was able to find the nose in the grass but it was all chewed up. One eye was never recovered.

 Joe was so awesome. He got right on the phone and started trying to track down a new one. He first called Kohl's, which is where she came from five years ago, and explained what had happened to the customer service lady. Joe was describing Bunny to the woman and referred to her as an "Easter bunny." Lou heard and started bawling, "She's not an Easter bunny! She's a Princess Bunny!!"

They no longer carried this bunny, but she was able to give us the name of the manufacturer, whom Joe also called, but they no longer make it. So our hunt turned to eBay. We actually, miraculously found a new bunny on eBay and very quickly bought it. But Lou took one look at it and said, "That's not my Bunny. My Bunny does not look like that." We explained to her that once upon a time, she actually did. This bunny still had a smile and whiskers, and a fluffy coat and tail, and still had the baby toy bunny sewed into her arms. This bunny was not Real yet. Lou warmed up to the idea of the new bunny, but said that it still just wouldn't be the same. And I had to agree. So I became determined to fix Bunny as best as I could.

First, Joe and I spent date night tracking down materials to fix Bunny. This meant a trip down the incredibly scary dismembered doll aisle at Hobby Lobby to get a new nose and eyes. Seriously, that aisle terrifies me. Brings back bad "Chucky" memories. *shudder* It also didn't help that Joe kept following me down the aisle waving the dolls around, creepily saying, "Lindsay, come play with me. I want to be your friend!" (Note: Joe's aforementioned awesomeness with tracking down a new bunny, and his willingness to spend date night at Hobby Lobby are the ONLY reasons I put up with creepy doll play-date invitations.)

We couldn't find any type of material that would match the gnawed-off face, so we decided to get another stuffed animal and use the material from it. Sadly, the dog is a touch more yellow than Bunny was, but it was the closest we could find.
 

Say "Hello" to my ugly little friend.

I then measured the nose/snout part on Bunny and drew a circle on the back of the dog and cut it out:

I then destuffed Bunny's head because the fluff was full of dirt and grass. I guess it was inevitable that this would be the point when Lou would walk in and stare at me and ask, "What. Are. You. Doing. To. Bunny???"

After defluffing, I carefully used my seam ripper to remove the rest of the snout part. I had some concerns about this next step because the face was chewed off to just below the right eye and I wasn't sure how to even it out. I decided a "chin-ectomy" was in order. I cut out a piece of material out from right below the bottom of the snout and sewed it on to the top part below the eye.

The innards of this Bunny are just as creepy as the innards of a real bunny, though thankfully less bloody.

Next came the nose. Now, Bunny originally had a pale pink nose, and all Hobby Lobby had were black ones. The original was too chewed up to work, but of course, Lou demanded a pink one. So I got creative and painted one of the black noses with a silver paint marker, then colored that with a pink sharpie marker, and then put a clear top coat of nail polish on it for durability. From there, I attached it to the snout and then sewed the snout on. Of course it all had to be hand-sewn. Blah. But in the end, I think it all worked out. It's a little uneven, but she definitely looks a lot better than she did a few hours before!! Lou's good with it, so that makes me happy. She did notice that the color was a bit off and the nose isn't right, and at first it upset her, but she's made her peace with it. Actually, she said, "Mom, I would really like for Bunny to have a pale pink nose but if she can't have one, then it's ok." Needless to say, I found some pale pink noses online and they should be here in a few days. =) The New Bunny comes tomorrow and Lou's excited, but she keeps making sure that we're not throwing Bunny away. Believe me, kid. We will NEVER throw Bunny away.

FrankenBunny lives!!

Here We Go!...Again

Ok. First things first. It's been awhile since my last blog. It's one of those things that I mean to do but it kind of gets tossed on the stone-cold back burner. Taking 18 hours each semester while raising two kids and leading a Celebrate Recovery group two times a week becomes slightly time-consuming. The good news? I graduate in May!! Whoo-hoo!! Then only three more years of graduate school!...? Hmmm... Doesn't sound like this life is going to slow down anytime soon.

But I've realized that I really miss blogging. Sharing all of my wisdom and sage advice with the internet at large? Yes, please! (And by "at large" I obviously mean all 12 of you who semi-regularly read this and the occasional stranger who arrives at it by clicking the "Next Blog" link.) But I think it's time to make a re-commitment to blogging. Like I've said before, writing soothes this savage beast. So since I've got about a years worth of events, feelings, etc to catch you up on, let me begin.

No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

I just celebrated 10 years of marriage to a wonderful, God-fearing man. I am a senior in college, earning my degree in Leadership and Ministry. I would like to continue on to get my Master's in Counseling but we'll pray and see. I am a Women's Leader at Celebrate Recovery. And I love it. There's such a stigma attached to support groups like CR and it's so frustrating. People sometimes just don't know how to react when I say that. But I will tell you this: God has worked amazing wonders in my life and in my family over the last two years and He has used the program and people in CR to accomplish so much in my life. I have made amazing friends, and, especially as a leader, I have had the privilege to firsthand see God move, change, and heal broken people. I was a broken person. I'm not ashamed to say that. No, I wasn't an alcoholic or a drug addict. But I was depressed, suicidal at times, angry, and struggling with co-dependency (or as I like to joke, I was addicted to my husband.) But God has set me FREE! And I love watching Him move in others lives. I feel like this is a calling on my life. That's why I'm considering the Master's degree in counseling.

But even with all of these blessings that God has given me, and knowing that He hears me when I cry out to Him, and knowing that I am free, I sometimes still struggle with life. Probably because I'm human. Right now I'm struggling to trust Him with my finances. I'm struggling with anger and frustration. At this exact moment, I'm struggling with a two-year-old who's whining and crying for juice when we don't have any. I feel myself getting upset and wanting to yell. I've opened and shut this laptop about 15 times in the last 5 minutes trying to convince her that an empty bottle means that there isn't any left for her to drink. I'm struggling with trying not to burst into tears right along with her.

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. (James 1:2-4 ESV)

Are these the types of trials and struggles I'm supposed to consider with all joy? Two-year-old's and financial difficulties? Maybe. Probably. But it's hard. It's hard to find the joy when your nerves are frayed and it feels like there's no end in sight. Being a Christian doesn't mean that all your problems are instantly solved. It just means that we haven't gotten to the other side of glory yet (I heard one of my professors say this and it stuck with me.) But as a Christian, I know that I'm not alone. He is always right here, even when I can't feel Him. I read this awesome article by John Piper the other day on what to do when you're feeling fragile. I actually printed it out and have it saved on my phone for when I need to read it again. But my favorite part is the last line:

Cry out to him. Then ransack the Bible for his appointed promise. We are fragile. But he is not.

Oh, John Piper, you wise man, you. That's what I've been missing. I've gotten so caught up in life that I've forgotten the source of Life. I've forgotten His beautiful promises to me, to us. My cup is empty. He will fill me to overflowing so that I may be emptied again, pouring Him all through my life and onto all others who come into contact with me. And when I'm emptied and dry and there's just not enough of me to go around, I need to cry out to Him and ransack the Bible for His appointed promise and ask Him to fill me once again. And He will. He always has.

One Amazing Year

It's been awhile since my last blog. I've been meaning to write a new post for about a month or so now, but life keeps getting in the way. But I felt like today was a good day to write.

First of all, today is my 9th anniversary with Joe. This time last year, I was sitting in a lawyer's office discussing custody schedules and alimony. Wow, what a year. God has been so amazingly good and wonderful to my family. If it hadn't been for Him rescuing me from my personal hell, I probably would have committed suicide. Shocking to see it in print, but still true. But because of God's unfailing love, mercy, and grace, I sit before you now, a living testimony to His greatness. My whole family is a testimony.

I am so incredibly, madly, passionately in love with my husband. A great truth I've discovered over the past year is that while Joe and I are not perfect by any means, God made us perfect for one another. There is not another man out there who would complete me as perfectly as Joe does. And I feel confident in saying that Joe feels the same way about me.

I am so proud of Joe for the leaps and bounds he's taken towards God this past year. He is a man that I can deeply, profoundly respect. He still struggles, but he's learning to turn everything over to God and to let Him rule. One of my favorite things is to get together and pray. I never thought I would say that. It always sounded so "Christian." Just so cliched. But it's true. It delights my heart to see him becoming a man of God.

Neither of us are anywhere near the same person we were at the beginning of 2010. I've learned that I unintentionally put enormous pressure on Joe by trying to make him be my God. Once God showed me what I was doing and I turned to the real God, our marriage grew so much stronger.

This year has been an amazing year in my personal life as well as with my marriage. I never knew how much energy I was expending in running away from God trying to find "freedom" until I came running back to Him. I recently got Psalms 18:19b tattooed on my back: He rescued me, because He delighted in me. Wow. Just let that sink in. God delights in me. He delights in you. Wow. When that truth finally sunk in, it floored me. Here I am, this worthless, pathetic creature. Who am I that God should even notice me, much less delight in me? But yet He does. He really truly does. And He longs to show it. Praise Him for His mighty deeds, His incredible wonders! The infinite God of the universe DELIGHTS in me!!! And He came with swords blazing to rescue me. He came to save my marriage. He came to save my husband. He came to save my family from the powers of darkness. All I can do right now is sit here in amazement, crying, while Joe looks on in concern from the couch. That's why I got it permanently etched onto my body. I never want to forget. Right now I pray that I will always have this awe of God, that I will always run as hard as I can to Him so that I can rest in His arms. I want this year with God to last all my days.

So, I sit here on my 9th anniversary, thinking back over this past year and how this anniversary means more to me than all the others combined. How this feels like the first in so many ways. I think of how grateful I am to have such a wonderful husband who loves me as Christ loves the church. I thank God for him every day. I am so blessed to be called his wife. I hope to be his "ruby" forever. I want to be a blessing to him and love him and support him with everything that I am, and when I fail, to rely on God to give me the strength to fight for him and with him against anything this fallen world can hurl at us.

Thank you, God. Thank you.

The Bracelet

Something monumental happened today. I bought a bracelet. I know that doesn't exactly seem very momentous, but to me it was. I've never worn bracelets or fancy necklaces or anything like that. I've never painted my fingernails. I've never believed that I could be the type of girl to wear and do things like that.

All my life, I have been so unsure of myself. I try to blend in, even when I don't really want to. When I was in high school, I wore a size 0. But I still thought I was ugly and messed up. I tried to pretend that I didn't feel that way, but deep down in that dark place where I stuff things, I did. Since then, I gained a lot of weight. Too much. And I hated myself. And I assumed others felt the same way about me. At the very least, they were disgusted by me. So I tried to hide, to blend in. Definitely no frills about me then.

Since Banana's birth almost a year ago, I've lost about 30 lbs. I've gone from growing out of my 14s to a 6. And I'm finally beginning to feel good about myself. I don't think it's all because of losing the weight that I'm feeling like this. I've finally have started to become comfortable in my own skin. Maybe it's because I'm 27 now and not 17. I've heard that a woman feels her most beautiful at the age of 30. I'll let you know in three years if that's true.

But I think what has really had the biggest impact on me is realizing how much God loves me and how beautiful He thinks I am. He designed me. He wanted me to have this hair, this nose (which admittedly looked better before Thane broke it), this body. He created me to be beautiful to Him. One of the most beautiful women I know of is my mother, Ruth. She doesn't even realize her radiance. She seems to glow from within. God shines through her. She is a mighty oak, displayed for His splendor. I want to be like that. I want to radiate His glory. As I have been seeking after Him and falling in love with Him, I have also been falling in love with myself. Not in a narcissistic way, but realizing that if God sees me as beautiful and lovely, maybe I am.

So I bought a bracelet. And I actually wore it around Target. No one laughed at me. No one even cared. And it was wonderful.

Florida! (The Happy Version)

I totally should have written this as soon as I got home because now I've forgotten the hilarious things Lou did and said. Darn it. Oh, well. I'll just hope it comes to me as I'm writing. So I guess the best place to start this adventure is from the beginning. Here goes.

For the few days before the trip, like clockwork, Lou had been asking if we were "going to Florida now." By the time Joe got home at 7pm from working a half shift, I was ready to go to Florida now. We left at 9 something and got there before 7 the next morning. The drive went well enough. Lou only slept for about 5 hours of it, but she watched movies the whole time she was awake. The Sunshine State wasn't so sunshiny. It rained for the first couple of days there so we just did inside stuff instead of going to the beach. We finally got to go to the beach, but it was rainy and it had a red flag (meaning high hazard) almost every day.

The girls LOVED the beach. I mean, absolutely could not get enough of it. Even Banana had a blast (for the most part.) While I don't really like the idea of putting pics of my kids on here, I am going to put one of Banana just because words can't describe the sunscreen/sand/saltwater-in-the-eyes incident. The poor girl had it rough the first day. It started out innocently enough. Joe put sunscreen on her and did so good trying to keep it out of her eyes. (We had forgotten the stick sunscreen.) But then, with cat-like reflexes, she managed to get some on her sandy hands, which of course went directly to the eyes. We tried to wash off her hands, but then she just rubbed her eyes again, this time with saltwater. Finally, I had to get a bottle of water from the cooler and pour it in her eyes. And then the combination of the sunscreen on her head and the wind just wreaked havoc on her hair. But as sad as she looks, she still had so much fun. She would dig, dig, dig all of the sand around her and pile it on her legs, then squeal with laughter as she would kick her legs out.

And Lou just had so much fun playing in the waves and building sand castles. She has NO fear whatsoever. When a wave swamped her for the first time and she couldn't get up and Papa had to rescue her, I thought that she would've been at least a little concerned, if not somewhat scared. But no. She just laughed and said, "What happened? It was fast!" then bounded off again. She and Joe built a sand mound about 4 feet in diameter and about 3 1/2 feet high and she would stand at the top and slide down it on her belly "like a penguin." She got stung by jellyfish, but didn't even care. She flew a kite on the beach. She got buried in the sand and helped bury her Papa. She cried when we left FL and kept saying that she wanted to go back to the beach. Me, too, kiddo. Me, too.

The oil would come and go. So did the seaweed. The last day we were there was perfect. No seaweed, no oil, green flag flying, perfect temps and sunny. I wish it would have been like that the whole time. We went to Destin one day, to the Gulfarium (totally not worth the money) and then to the beach there and it was so seaweed-y and horrible. I've never seen Destin with that much seaweed. I guess it was because of the hurricane.

Sadly, James and Audra had to work most of the time so we didn't get to hang out with them as much as we would have liked. I never realized how much Lou looks like Audra until this trip. I think she looks more like Audra than she does me. But that's ok. I've got Banana.

The girls were great on the trip back. A 9+ hour car ride and we only had to stop twice and then once more for gas. I was impressed with how well they behaved. Since I drove almost the whole way there, Joe drove back.

But I gotta say, even though I miss the beach, it's nice being home.

UPDATE: Totally forgot to mention how well the girls did sleeping in the same room. Ok, the first night was horrendous. They woke each other up about 3 times and Joe wound up sleeping on the other couch while Lou and I slept on the hide-a-bed. And then Banana woke up at 5. But, the point is that they did so good, we've decided when it's time to put Banana into a big girl bed, we're going to get them bunk beds and turn Lou's room into a playroom. Or you know, into another nursery, since Joe's decided we're having two more kids. But that's for a whole 'nother post.

27

So today's my 27th birthday. I'm no longer in my "mid-twenties." Nowhere to go but old from here on out. I'm just kinda blah today. I just keep getting bad news on top of bad news. Even news that sounds good has a seemly underbelly.

It's been a rough couple of days. We had to go to a 7 year old's funeral on Thursday. Seven. That is waaay too young. My heart is so completely broken for his parents. He was supposed to have started 2nd grade the day he was buried. I always see headlines for stuff like this and I think, "Geez. How sad." But when it happens to someone you know, to someone who shares the same lineage and browline as your kids, it hits home with a little more force. I just sat weeping Thursday night thinking about his new school clothes. Will his mom return them or keep them as a reminder of things not to come?

It's easy to wonder where God is in all of this. It would've been so easy for God to have saved him. He had so many people praying for him. His death was caused by an amoeba. Something that seems so small and insignificant, yet left a wake of destruction in its path.

It's one of those times that questions my beliefs. I know that God is good. Everything God does is good. He works all things for good for those who believe in Him, like Davian did. So how in the world is Davian's death good? I have to believe that it somehow is good, even if I can't see the reasoning behind it right now. Because if I believe that it's not good, then I'm calling God a liar, and I know He's not. I guess this is where faith comes in.

Ugh

So I'm doing Beth Moore's "Breaking Free" bible study. It's all about, yup, you guessed it, breaking free from sin's captivity. I'm in week two now and all I can say is that I'm in deep captivity. One of the areas in which I struggle is pride. But I have a sick, twisted pride. I don't think of myself as prideful. I look at others who struggle with pride and say, "At least I'm not them. I don't struggle with pride."

Bull crap.

Another area in which I struggle is worrying, especially about Joe, and specifically about his state of spiritual health. Because I obviously don't have enough to worry about myself. God has told me plenty of times, in all sorts of ways, to let it go and give it to Him. Joe's fine. But I can't. In my pride and worry, I keep thinking that I can better Joe.* I keep saying that I can see what God's doing and how I'm starting to be able to lay it all down, but it's a LIE! I just can't seem to be able to. My pride won't let me. So I sit and think up what I can subtly work into a conversation and crap like that. Joe sees right through my cleverness, too, so it doesn't even work.

I'm not patient enough to let God work. I pray to be filled with the Holy Spirit because if you're filled with the Spirit then you'll bear the fruit of the Spirit, such as patience. But I'm not patient at all with God!!! He's GOD, for crying out loud!! He's worked many miracles. Surely it wouldn't hurt Him to just hurry up and fix things already. I'm sick to death of having to take a handful of pills every day just to function. I'm sick of worrying. I'm just sick of everything.

But as I sit here, this verse (Isaiah 38:17) keeps coming to mind:

Surely it was for my benefit that I suffered such anguish.
In your love you kept me from the pit of destruction;
You have put all my sins behind your back.

And there you go. If God just granted my wishes then I would forget all about Him. But because He loves me, I suffer. Because when I suffer, I turn to Him. And when I turn to Him, I am healed and able to glorify Him. Because, prideful, sinful wretch that I am, He loves me. Really, truly loves me and wants an intimate relationship with me. I have been chosen by name, before the formation of the world, to be His.

And that's enough for me.



*Note to Joe: I am very sorry for two things. 1. That I am such a manipulative, controlling wench, and 2. For airing this out on my blog. I LOVE YOU.