Maybe you remember the story. Two-and-a-half years ago, while pregnant with Liam, our 20-week ultrasound didn't go as smoothly as we'd hoped. After checking off each system as "normal," the ultrasound technician landed on Liam's legs and saw what she thought was two clubbed feet. One foot was hard to see, but she was nearly certain that his left foot was clubbed. We were scheduled for a more in-depth ultrasound two weeks later to follow up with her findings and to meet with a genetic counselor. Beyond being a fixable problem with his feet, the clubbing could have been related to a variety of other genetic conditions, and we wouldn't know for sure if everything was alright until after he was born. 

As Shawn headed back to work after our difficult ultrasound, I'll never forget sitting slumped in silence on our couch, allowing my mind to slide into dark places of "what if?". I felt so suddenly disconnected from our squirming baby, swallowed up in fear that I wouldn't be able to love him well if he had a disability. I blamed myself, just knowing I had probably done something to cause the defect. 

Our gender reveal party with a host of family and friends was later that evening, and I put on a smiling face to try to celebrate. No one really knew there was a problem beside our parents, but even as the ultrasound video played in the background, I couldn't stand to look at it. Past all of our loved ones and a cake with bright blue icing in the center, all I could see that night was our baby's turned left foot. 

But when a friend's daughter brought an unexpected gift, my heart changed. I unwrapped a tiny left foot-shaped cookie cutter with the words, "A gift from heaven above!" on a note that came with it. In that moment, the fear and self-pity that had swallowed me whole melted away. In that moment, I felt so lavishly loved and known by Jesus. Two-and-a-half years later, I still do.

Liam's feet were the first part of him I saw when his warm body was quietly delivered into my arms. They were soft and beautiful and not turned in even a bit, so our follow-up appointment with a pediatric orthopedic surgeon was immediately canceled and we reveled in our perfectly healthy boy. God had chosen to work a miracle.

Knowing the power of a mother's love like I do now, I know it wouldn't have mattered. Liam could have arrived with no feet at all and I would've loved him deeply. Had that been the case, we would've experienced God's faithfulness to us as He walked us through that trial, too. But for Liam to have flawless feet felt like an extra gift; an unexpected miracle that we opened on the day of his birth. 

Today, we did something I had dreamt of: we pulled out that foot-shaped cookie cutter that has now made three moves with us. I mixed and rolled out smooth gingerbread dough and let Liam cut lots of shapes out of it, including the shape of a left foot. As the cookies baked, I brought him over to the oven to watch them swell and brown and I told him his story. How Mommy was so scared that his feet might not be able to walk or play soccer. How she and Daddy prayed for a miracle and tried to trust God. How God showed up through a little girl's gift of a cookie cutter in the shape of a left foot, and we knew that He was with us and cared for us so much. How, when he came out of Mommy's tummy, the first thing I saw were those beautiful, perfectly formed feet of his. At this point in the story, he yelled, "Yeah Biam! Biam's feet!" as if he somehow understood a little piece of what I was trying to say. Tears welled up in my eyes as they do every time I tell this story, and he hugged me and said, "Wub you, Mommy." More tears.

So if you come by my house this week, you'll see a dozen gingerbread cookies in the shape of a foot. More than that, they're rocks of remembrance of His goodness to us. Sweet reminders of his faithfulness that I hope we never forget. 

Thankful.

We're close to finishing up what has been the most humbling, stretching year of our lives. It involved what felt like constant upheaval and near-constant struggle. But, by God's grace alone, we have come through stronger as a family and in our faith. So we're grateful for 2014. And I don't say that flippantly, because there were certainly times I wish we could've skipped it by. We would've missed so many blessings, though. Blessings that now hang on little cards on our table as reminders of His faithfulness.

So about our thankful tree. It isn't a new idea, but it's a new tradition for us. I gathered some sticks from our yard, put them in a vase, and cut little pieces of card stock (1" x 2") and hung them onto the tree. (I added some gold washi tape to a few just for fun.) Even Liam contributed a few. I know it's the day before Thanksgiving, but this was such an easy project and would be so sweet to do on Thanksgiving day with kids. I love being visually reminded every time I walk past that we have so much to be thankful for, and not just on one day of the year.

Also, let me just say, I'm so thankful for you. Many of you have read along for several years now and have cheered us on from afar with your prayers, your encouraging emails, and just your presence in this little space. Thank you. I hope tomorrow is a sweet, sacred celebration with people you love.

PS - I'll be back bright and early Friday morning to announce some big Black Friday and Small Business Saturday sales in my Brighter Day shop! See you then.

Grateful (iPhone version).

It's been a difficult, draining week on many fronts, which is why the blog has been so quiet. But instead of droning on about the whys, I want to focus on what I am grateful for this week. Because gratitude turns what we have into enough. True?

+ I am grateful for October. Quite possibly my favorite month of the year. I never tire of pumpkin spice, cooler weather, and crunchy leaves underfoot.

+ For this verse. "All sufficiency in all things at all times." You know what that means? That even on the hardest days, "I can't even..." or "I give up" aren't options. God has made his grace abound to us so that we can. 

+ For a new pumpkin cake recipe that's gluten free, dairy free, and refined sugar free that we gobbled up in two sittings. What a gift to eat yummy things even when your family's dietary needs feel so high maintenance. (I'll post the recipe soon.)

+ For the opportunity to serve alongside my family, even when it feels like more work than the good it's possibly doing.

+ For the friendliest little guy I've ever met (and possibly the most persistent). He didn't really get that the older man was asleep and kept saying, "Hiiiii. How yooo?" 

+ For matching plaid and a daddy-son relationship that grows tighter and sweeter by the day.

+ For 26 weeks and for women in the grocery store who whisper, "You look so beautiful." That's always an appropriate thing to say to an exhausted pregnant lady. Always.

+ For a tiny girl inside who already knows her daddy's voice and kicks like crazy when he comes close.

What are you thankful for this week?

Our girl.

via Instagram @whitneynewby

When we walked into the dimly lit ultrasound room, my heart pounded. The view conjured difficult memories of our 20-week ultrasound with Liam, which involved a solemn sonographer and phrases like "genetic counseling."

Yesterday's sonographer was methodical, but also reassuring, and for that I was grateful. She worked her way through each of the baby's systems, measuring what she needed and explaining herself along the way. "There are the four chambers of the heart. And do you see that dark line that's shaped like a candy cane? That's the aorta."

When it was time to reveal the gender, she found the appropriate angle and paused the screen.

"It's a little girl!" she smiled confidently, and took my breath away. Shawn and I looked at each other through happy tears.

We hadn't expected a little girl. Not for weeks, at least. It had been a more difficult first trimester than with Liam, but I chalked it up to international travel, a stressful move, and chasing a toddler in 95-degree heat. Anyone who saw my growing belly in person would comment, "Looks like another little boy in there!" and when I pictured the next few years of my life, I could only picture two little men.

But I wasn't disappointed at all. Just stunned. Of course I knew a girl was a possibility, it just felt much less likely.

A few hours later, Shawn and I headed out on a date to celebrate, and as we sat down to dinner he asked, "So what are you most excited about?"

I mentioned a few things: seeing Liam as a protective big brother, seeing our daughter love her daddy, sewing clothes and headbands for her, choosing her name. And then I looked at Shawn and said, "But I'm scared." I'm scared to raise a daughter in 2015 and 2025 and beyond. A daughter in a world where women are objectified in mainstream media, where the innocence of girlhood is stolen too quickly, where there's such a thing as "twerking." I know I'm raising a boy in that same culture, but boy-raising somehow seems less tricky. Less fragile. I want our daughter to be strong and brave and refuse to be trampled on, but also gentle and modest. I want her to feel safe, and I know that's something we won't always be able to provide for her.

I'm so glad we're in this together. That she already has a daddy who will take her on dates and teach her what it means to be treated like a lady. That she has an extended family who already loves her fiercely and will show her undeserved grace. That she has a church family who will undoubtedly shower us with support. That she has a God who we pray will save her soul at an early age, who loves her more than we can fathom.

Today, when I saw her squirming around on the screen and felt her little jabs - and when I heard that this baby who I've just begun to know and love is a "she" - all of a sudden, she couldn't have been anything else. It was always her: my daughter.

From whom all blessings flow.

In the past few days, we've experienced miracles.

... We bought a house. WE BOUGHT A HOUSE!!! It's a little yellow house with hardwood floors, walkable to downtown, and just a few feet from a metro park. It has space for Liam, a room for Brighter Day, a fenced backyard. Oh, and did I mention it's a 10 minute walk from our brother, sister, and niece? It's a dream. (And seriously... I cannot wait to do a few before-and-after posts and lots of DIY projects that are already swimming in my head.)
... A sweet family in our church is letting us borrow one of their cars.
... Another sweet family in our church is allowing us to stay rent-free until we close on the house in a few weeks.
... My dad (Dad of the Year!) flew to Raleigh, picked up me and Liam, and we all drove back to Nashville in his car so that we could fix my car and tie up some loose ends here.

We've had so many major prayer requests that have been answered so quickly, and we can only say, "Thank you, Lord." It is all so clearly from His hand.

I was reading Psalm 147 this morning, and this verse struck me:

Great is our Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit.

What security I find in those words. What peace. My complete lack of understanding in the last few weeks has been such a source of stress - from not understanding home buying terms to not understanding why this transition has been so difficult - but what comfort comes knowing "his understanding has no limit". There's nothing that surprises Him. Nothing that worries or befuddles Him. His understanding is limitless, and so is His love.

Thank you for your prayers and happy Friday to you! I hope there are markers in your own life of God's hand at work, milestones that you can praise Him for.

Finding beauty.

"I want to see beauty. In the ugly, in the sink, in the suffering, in the daily, 

in all the days before I die, the moments before I sleep."

- Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts

New friends.

It's not every day I can say "I taught military spouses to make earrings." Ha. But one morning last week at my parents' house, I had the privilege of doing just that.



It's kind of a long story as to how it happened - and how we didn't realize until the day before that it wasn't just military wives that would be attending, but military husbands. Impressively, the husbands did a fabulous job designing and making the earrings for their wives, and they had the best attitude about it. The mood was light and we followed the craft time with a delicious lunch and some time to get to know one another.





I guess what I came away with the most was more awareness and appreciation for what they do. Because honestly, I don't even think about it every day. The next time I hear news about our troops serving overseas, I'll see these faces in my mind. I'll hear their stories. I'll remember how many times they've moved, how many days it's been since they've seen their loved ones, and just how much they sacrifice every single day on our country's behalf. On my behalf. For freedom. And I might also remember the big burly man with his hands curled around jewelry pliers. :)

Humbled.

I'll be the first to admit... today was rough. There was a 5:00am wake-up call from a hungry baby, and soon after, there was an email from an upset customer (the worst!). There was the accidental dropping and shattering of two favorite dishes. There was the overwhelming truth that oh my goodness I have to make 15 clutches today. You've had this kind of day, I'm sure of it. It's hard. I felt on the verge of a panic attack more than a few times.

Later this afternoon, there was a teary call to my mom, which prompted her to immediately ask, "Ok, what can we do?" My dad hopped in the car and arrived within about 20 minutes, ready to take Liam for the rest of the afternoon so I could get some work done. These doting, committed, sacrificial grandparents of his bless me so much. I know that they're there to catch me - and my smiley five month old - when I fall. They are constantly serving our little family by helping clean our house, catch up on laundry, make us a meal, or entertain our boy.

I have a husband who sent me to a hotel last weekend - alone! - because he knew how desperately I needed a full night of rest.
I have a Grandma who sewed 25+ purses for me in the last couple weeks.
I have friends who volunteer to watch Liam or cut fabric or bring Chipotle.

I am loved. And because of this, I am humbled.

Tonight, I was able to help serve a meal to women who had recently come out of prison and are in rehabilitation before returning to their lives. It was one more thing that hardly fit in my overpacked day, but I'd committed to it, and had a sense that it would be a life-giving experience. So I met my parents and Liam there, along with my friend Ashlyne and a couple others, and we dished up some delicious enchiladas, salad, and key lime pie to about 40 hungry ladies. Liam was a hit (of course!) and just sat there looking cute. As the ladies left the room, they'd say, "Thanks so much for dinner. Bye Liam!"

Whenever I have the privilege of serving - whether at a homeless shelter or my neighbor across the street - gratitude always hits me. Usually it's gratitude for material things. For example, when I serve a homeless man, I'm grateful to have a home.

Today, I was so grateful for how I've been blessed relationally. These women are often very alone. They've been estranged from family members since being incarcerated, and they don't have strong support to fall back on. They don't have a community to come to their rescue. They don't have a loving family cheering them on through their recovery from addiction and abuse.

So I am grateful. Humbled. I'm allowed to be broken, to not have it all together, to be vulnerable. I am confident I won't be rejected by the ones who love me, but will always be helped and encouraged. I am surrounded by an incredible group of servant-hearted people, which make my life so rich. Thank you, sweet friends and family of mine. I love you.

Goofus or Gallant.

Growing up, it seemed like every time we visited the doctor's office, there was a (usually very outdated) Highlights magazine on the waiting room table. Mom would pick it up and flip through until she found the Goofus and Gallant feature. Even from the time we were 5 or 6, we thought it was hilarious... and incredibly cheesy. (Anyone else remember these guys?)

Goofus was naughty and Gallant was nice.
Goofus took short cuts. Gallant took his time.
Goofus was selfish. Gallant thought of others.
For whatever reason, what most stands out to me about them is that Goofus complained, while Gallant looked at the bright side.

Recently, I've felt like there's a Goofus on one shoulder, and a Gallant on the other.

At 1:00 am:
Goofus: I can't believe I'm still sewing. I've been a mom all day, I've run errands, answered emails, and sewed, and I'm still not finished.
Gallant: I have a thriving business and get to make a living sewing! I'm getting paid for my creativity, get to work with my hands, and spend my days with my baby. What a gift.
Side note: I've been able to hire two seamstresses, and still have lots of work to do... but it's getting more manageable by the day. Thank you, Lord!

At 4:00 am:
Goofus:Can he seriously be hungry again?
Gallant: He's so healthy and growing, and I'm the only one in the world to get to spend this time with him right now and provide for his needs.

At 5:00 pm:
Goofus: What in the world are we supposed to have for dinner? There's no time for grocery shopping, planning, and I don't know how anyone can expect me to keep up with that.
Gallant:  I have no idea what I'm going to cook, but there are so many options. And if I don't have time to cook, we can eat out! I don't want to take that luxury for granted.

Both perspectives seem pretty extreme. Goofus is a total downer, and Gallant appears to live in dreamland. But what I'm learning (again and again and again) is that it's all about perspective. They both live in the same world, right? But they've made a choice. A choice that I can make at every turn. I can choose gratitude. I can choose joy. The thing is, joy never comes naturally from my heart. I can easily find a Goofus in there who is bitter and whiny, but it's harder to find Gallant. Joy comes solely from Christ, as He's my source of joy, of beauty, of inspiration, of motivation, of every good and perfect gift. So I have to pray for that perspective: at 1am, at 4am, at every hour of every day.

So I'd love to hear... any Goofus vs. Gallant scenarios in your own life? This could be fun. :)

PS - It's a privilege to be guest posting on Hollie's blog today about some new mom things I've learned. Visit the post here. Thanks, Hollie, for having me!

Sandy Hook.

This morning, as Liam and I sat in a beautiful commissioning service for this semester's graduating Belmont nurses, an unthinkable tragedy was happening about a thousand miles away. As I heard prayers said and watched the proud new graduates cross the stage, children were huddled into classrooms hearing gunshots, hearts pounding with fear, evil running wild in the halls of an elementary school. I don't even want to imagine the scene.

The tragedy has gripped me today as it's the first I've experienced - from a distance, of course - as a mom. In other school shootings, I've felt more numb than raw. Today, it's just the opposite. To hear the words "18 children pronounced dead at the scene" and to put myself in those parents' shoes is just unthinkable.

As I rock Liam a little longer tonight, I offer up prayers for the parents of these sweet, innocent kids who had no idea what today would hold. Tomorrow will be hard. Christmas might be harder.

Come, Lord Jesus, come.

Landfill harmonic.

This is incredibly inspiring.



"People realize that we shouldn't throw away trash carelessly.
Well, we shouldn't throw away people either."

My cup overflows.

A friend commented yesterday on a photo of our little family and simply said, "Your cup overflows." I couldn't have said it better myself.

I look at my life... the grace and salvation God has given me through Christ, my two incredible guys, my wonderfully supportive family, clothes on our backs, food on our table... and I think, "my cup overflows." I have been given so much more than I ever deserved.

This week is about being thankful, and I feel the gratitude so deeply this year. So if my words are few and the pictures are many, it's because I'm simply relishing these amazing gifts God has given me. I hope you're able to step back this week and do the same.

Sweetest moment.

I realize how blessed I am the moment I hear my husband tell my one week old son, 

"It's time to read the Word of God."

 Have you heard of the Jesus Storybook Bible? It was given to us as a baby gift, but is just as powerful to us as adults. The author, Sally Lloyd-Jones (who just so happens to be a member of Tim Keller's church in Manhattan), has an exquisite way of telling the stories of the Bible and always relating them back to the Gospel. 

I love this description from a Q&A with the author:

"The Bible is of course an adult book, so in order to make it accessible to children, by its very nature, as you retell it; you're going to have to reduce it down. Unfortunately, the danger is that you reduce is down into moral lessons. The entire Bible is hammered down into one long lesson on obedience. Almost like a Bible Aesop's Fables. Each story becomes a lesson so you can fix your behavior and become a better person. Children are then likely to be left with the impression that they must be good for God to love them. Disastrous and inaccurate. It's as if Jesus never came. So I wanted to write a children's Bible storybook that first and foremost told the Great Story of the Bible - the story running under all the stories of the Bible like a golden stream - the story of how God loves his children and comes to rescue them. The Story that at the center has a baby, the child upon whom everything would depend - Jesus, the only, real true Hero of the Bible. I wanted a Bible Storybook that was, like the Bible is, not all about us and what we should be doing - but about God, and what he has done."

If you're looking for a perfect baby gift, we can't recommend it highly enough.

Perspective.

A couple friends posted this on Facebook this week, and I couldn't help but share it...

Convicting? Thought provoking, at least?
It was for me.

From where I sit...

... there are lots of things making today great.

I look to the right and the left and see no more Brighter Day or Brighter Day Baby packages. Why? Because they're all officially finished and in the mail. I could not be happier!
I look down and see a baby foot poking out next to my right rib and realize that within 3 weeks, no matter what, that baby will be in our arms.
I look out and see the most gorgeous Fall day. I hear the Les Misérables soundtrack blasting. I smell baby laundry and burning wood.

So, so much to be grateful for.

This morning.

Me and E hard at work, via Instagram.

I'm struck this morning with thankfulness.After a long, tough day at the hospital yesterday, this morning brings fresh perspective that wow... I am so lucky to work from home several days a week doing what I love (sewing, creating, interacting with customers). And I get to do it in pajama pants while listening to a Tim Keller sermon or two, looking out my window at horses in the backyard, drinking decaf hazelnut coffee, and feeling Baby E kick around like crazy.

There are days that this business feels overwhelming because of the sheer time it requires, but not today. Not after yesterday with 6 difficult patients and 13 hours on my feet. Today is a respite. Today is a joy.

Happy Wednesday to you!

PS - Do you have Instagram? Follow me @whitneynewby

Yesterday.

I woke up yesterday morning with a brilliant blogging idea (or so I thought).
It was going to be a quiet but productive day at home, working on homework, job applications, and sewing orders for Brighter Day, and I would capture pieces of it every hour or two with my camera.
What I didn't expect were the feelings that would come as I looked through these pictures at the end of the day.

I thought I'd see the beauty surrounding me.
I thought I'd be more thankful for the things I'm so blessed with.
And I did. Both of those things.

But more than that, I felt an overwhelming grief at how often I have taken this amazing place for granted. I've lived here for two years, and for most of that time, I've refused to be content. On so many days, being away from the city - the people, the diversity, the energy - felt so suffocating. I cried because I missed it so much, and I would have rather been anywhere but here. I complained about seeing goats and horses instead of people. I complained about driving 20+ minutes to get just about anywhere. I whined. A lot.

And even now, even as I write that, my eyes burn with tears.
How much have I missed?!

I told Shawn about my day when he got home (during that big time gap you see toward the end), and as soon as I did, I wept. Wept. I didn't know these feelings of remorse would be so powerful, but they came out at once and I couldn't contain it.

It hit me like a ton of bricks today... a year from now, I won't live in this little yellow house on acres of beautiful land.
I won't wake up to this kind of beauty.
I won't cook meals looking out at running water and galloping horses.
I won't run barefoot through dewy grass to pick tomatoes out of my garden.
I won't call this place home.
It's ironic that Franklin has been home for these past two years - and for most of my life - and yet it's just now feeling like home in the last few days and weeks.

Maybe you're reading and thinking, "You're being way too hard on yourself." But as hard as I've tried to point out the things I adore about living here on this blog (and there are many things that I do), my heart has not been content for so long. And I want that to change. We may not live here for much longer, who knows. But I can live differently for however long it is. So however much longer I live in this house, you can bet I'm going to soak it up. Every drop. I didn't know these silly pictures could make me want to do that, but they did. They really, really did. And I am thankful for the conviction they caused.

Can I recommend...

If I could recommend only one book for you to read this year, it would be One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are by Ann Voskamp. It was one of my favorites from last year, and quotes like the one above have helped me to savor life just a little bit more. I can always use encouragement to be content, and this beautiful book helped me to do just that. I can't think of a better way to start this year than by being reminded over and over to give thanks for it.

2011: Year in Review.

It's 2012! Hard to believe, isn't it? As I look back on what 2011 held, I am so grateful. Signs of God's goodness and faithfulness to us are so evident as I read about our life in 2011. Here are just a few highlights of the year. Happy New Year, friends! 

January

Started nursing school

Loved on my Granddaddy right before he went to be with Jesus

February

Celebrated my 25th birthday in Chicago

Had my first day of clinicals

Taught the doctor who delivered me how to paint

March

Played the name game with Shawn

Brunched with friends

Enjoyed the Spring

April

Painted in the dark

Was wooed by my muffin-baking husband

Laughed a lot at our nursing school mannequins

May

Sewed my first purse and re-opened Brighter Day

Miraculously got into the accelerated program

June

Photographed a lovely summer wedding

Battled the cicadas

Realized it's a really small world

July

Spent the 4th in Chicago

Loved on our godsons

Visited our neglected garden

August

Had the best trip to California

Went to the county fair

September

Made special bags for Brighter Day

Made homemade tortilla chips

October

Got to see my happy little niece

Flew to NYC to see Dad play at Carnegie Hall

November

Sipped on green smoothies

Burned my fingers making a tree skirt

December

Cheered on a hometown hero

Hosted a sleepover
Celebrated our 3rd anniversary in St. Louis

What am I looking forward to in 2012? 

Graduating from nursing school
Whatever adventure the Lord has for us... 

What about you? Any dreams/hopes/resolutions for the new year? 

Sacred.

See these bags? They're special. A lot more special than the usual bag I make for Brighter Day.

A couple months ago, Caitlin (a friend of a friend) approached me with an idea. Her father - an amazing and godly man - had passed away last August and she had a few of his favorite shirts that she wanted to turn into bags for her and her family. The two striped ones were two of his favorite preaching shirts - and the brown flannel was another favorite. I was all over the idea. Once I received the shirts in the mail, it was hard to make those first few cuts, hoping and praying the bags would come together in a way that she and her family would be pleased with. I love how they turned out, and I love that they'll be such sweet reminders for her family for hopefully years to come. My favorite part is what is sewn inside each one: Living To Seek His Pleasure. It's how he signed his letters and what is now on his gravestone. What a privilege to work on such a sacred, beautiful project!