Liam Worth,

A traditional monthly post just isn't possible this month with your big brown chair still in storage, but I at least wanted to document the day with a few pictures of you munching on grass in the backyard. It's a very typical look for you these days.

This month brought your first real illness. You had a nasty ear infection that scared us half to death. You were hot (103.2° at the doctor's office), listless, and just not yourself, and we happened to be away from your daddy on top of it all. Thankfully, we were back in Nashville, just minutes from your pediatrician, who brought calming words of "There's the problem" as soon as he looked in your left ear. He prescribed medicine and lots of extra naps and cuddles, and amazingly, you're back to your active self again with no apparent memory of the painful beginning of the week.

We've also had the challenge of teaching you "no" to biting me with your four sharp teeth while you nurse. It got so bad this week that we had to go back to pumping and bottle feeding for the time being. As much as I thought we'd gotten so good at nursing, it looks like we're back at square one in some ways, and that's ok. It's a healthy reminder for me that I can't take anything for granted. You're always growing and changing, and I want to grow and change right along with you. When I heal up and start to nurse you again, I want to take time to listen to your cues, look into your eyes, play with your hair, and let you know I'm fully focused on you, instead of checking my phone or reading or just being generally distracted. I know our nursing days will end soon, and I don't want to miss a minute.

A few things I love about you right now:

Hearing "Mama" over and over from your pack 'n' play first thing after you wake up

The way you light up seeing your Daddy on FaceTime (and in person, of course)

The way you love your Mimi and Poppy

Your spontaneous, unsolicited, very wet kisses

Your extra long fingers and toes

Your newly calloused knees

The way you're becoming my little buddy, sitting in the cart in stores and chatting up a storm

You're still the best thing ever. 

Happy 10 months!

Love,

Mom

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

Our new neighborhood?

This morning, we are submitting an offer on what we hope will be our first home. For any new homeowners out there, you know that it's such a twist of emotions: excited, hopeful, scared to death. We now begin the back and forth as we negotiate with the seller, which we hope will not be painfully drawn out.

Throughout the whole process, I've felt pretty calm and (purposefully) emotionally detached. Well... as emotionally detached as you possibly can be when you're living in a basement and desperate to plant roots in a new community. I've tried to picture our family in each of the houses, but only to the point of functionality. I try not to picture first birthdays and candlelit dinners and bringing babies home from the hospital. As we were looking at the house again last night, I did feel as objective as possible. We looked in closets and at baseboards and at appliances and felt peaceful. If we got the house, it would be wonderful. If not, God had something better.

But then came a moment I didn't expect: a moment that I knew I wanted this house. Bad.

As we walked out of the house, we were discussing what we might offer and some concerns we had, and we walked to a city park close by. We looked out into the park and saw a big group of kids involved in a community program playing in the park. We saw young families with strollers taking their evening walks. There were several races represented, all coexisting happily together, and that's when I knew: I want to be here. I want us to raise Liam here. I want us to be able to walk a few steps to the park and see diversity and culture. It was a little taste of heaven for this city/culture/diversity lover. And it all suddenly made sense why we would sacrifice more space and newer properties in the suburbs for a place like this.

We will see what the Lord has in these next few days and weeks. In the meantime, we would so appreciate your prayers for peace and wisdom.

The way you look tonight.

This picture of you is exactly what I want to think of when you're all grown up and gone one day. Your tight green pajamas. Your drippy chin. Your constant smile and expressive blue eyes. Your fearlessness: the bumps and bruises on your head and your almost-falling-off-the-bed. Your shiny blond hair. Your winsome spirit. (We won't talk about restaurants. They are your downfall.)

This transition has been rough, but you haven't seemed to miss a beat. You've had the best attitude out of all three of us about the many changes in our lives.

Liam, 

You at almost 10 months old is my very favorite you yet. 

Life with you just keeps getting better.

Love,

Mom