Blessed Beyond Measure...

The story I've never told, at least not like this

2009-09-20T08:14:00.000-07:00

Spring was giving way to summer in late May of 2003; I had just celebrated my 22nd birthday, and had spent the past six months enjoying the newlywed season with my beloved. A onset of symptoms (such as seemingly constant fatigue and the undeniable need to empty my bladder in mock speed intervals) had prompted the ribbing of my coworkers, who claimed to be convinced that I was with child. My beloved and I were not trying to conceive, and had only recently made the decision to stop trying not to.

Off to the doctor went I, list of symptoms in hand. Outwardly wanting to come back with some reasonable diagnosis of a common malady that would quite the banter of my coworkers, yet secretly supposing I would return relishing in the blissful news that I was indeed expecting. Neither turned out to be the case.

After answering a litany of other inquiries, the doctors questioned the possibility of pregnancy. I answered in the affirmative, and they sent off for blood work. Young and naive as I was, it never occurred to me that they would have tested said blood for a host of physical aliments, but not for the pregnancy they had seemed to suspect. When the doctor returned to inform me that my only medical crisis was that I was suffering from chronic depression, I was shocked to say the least. All of the symptoms I had approached him with were physical. When he questioned if I were experiencing feelings of sadness or unexplained bouts of crying, I had assured him that was not the case. I was experiencing a very exciting, happy season of life, and could not understand why he was diagnosing me with depression. He insisted that I must be suppressing my emotions, thus causing the physical symptoms. He prescribed me a strong anti-depressant medication and sent me home with a referral to see a psychiatrist.

Oh, if only I had listened to that still, small voice inside of me before it was too late! I read the label on the medication, warning against ingestion by pregnant women. Something in me told me not to take it... but I had swallowed half of the first dose before coming to my senses enough to flush the remainder of the bottle.

Feeling miserable, with pain I believed to be associated with my normal cycle, was no excuse for shirking my shift at the nursing home a couple days later. While lifting a heavy patient out of his wheelchair, I felt and heard a painful "pop" and had to beeline for the Ladies room. Something was definitely not right.

I left work early and called my darling mother to meet me at the hospital. (This was back in the days when my beloved was working over two hours away from home) The frigid female doctor there looked at me in disgust, obviously irritated that I was taking up so much of her valuable time, and exclaimed "You are just having a period. You are just young, and don't know that periods can feel different each month. That is all it is. Beings you came to the ER, now we have to do blood work." Followed by a roll of the eyes that made me feel like she'd rather be scraping scum off of her shoe. They walked me to the end of the hall, and left me still in pain to wait with my mother in a small room facing out over a beautiful pine baby crib, complete with giant stuffed animals.

The frigid doctor returned to quip hastily at me "Well, I guess you were pregnant, looks like you had a miscarriage." Her tone only softened a molecule as she witnessed the tears well up in my eyes. "You will have to make an appointment with a OBGYN now." With that she walked out, only pausing to hand me a re feral to see an OB who just happened to be the same doctor my mom uses as her regular lady doctor.

Terrified of any type of surgical procedure, I was relieved when the OB did not mention the need for me to have a D/C procedure. In fact, he told me I was "good to go." My fear of surgery prevented me from seeking a second opinion, despite the urging from several more mature female friends at church who had "been there, done that" and could tell something was desperately wrong. As time time on, I became more and more sickly. My skin was pale, and I began having frequent dizzy spells, often fearing that I would pass out. For me, this sickness, combined with the heaviness of my heartache was now a way of life.

September brought joy to our hearts as I delighted in a positive home pregnancy test. Immediately upon receiving confirmation via a blood test at the family doctor, my beloved whisked me off to tell my employer I would not be returning to work. We were terrified, and were not going to take any chances with this child. (After all, I had been at work lifting when I felt the "pop" the night we lost Jaime)

The first sonogram, however, squashed that joy. I was estimated to be about 9 weeks or so along, and the hormone levels were very low. The technician refused to answer any questions, and left the room to get a doctor. I soon learned that it is never a good sign when they say they are going to go get a doctor! "My" doctor, the same one I was refereed to when we lost Jaime months before, didn't feel the need to speak to me in person. He did however, want explain the situation to be via the telephone. There I was, in the middle of the busy radiology building, being scolded like a toddler over the phone by someone with a degree who obviously thought I was lacking brain cells. To everyone else, this obviously wasn't that big of a deal, so I was desperately trying to keep my answers short. This was not good enough for him, however. He kept asking me "Do you know what this means?" and then making me explain to him, over and over, that I was probably going to loose this baby, too. my guess is so that I couldn't go into denial later and claim I didn't know the graveness of the situation.

The nurse at my scheduled check up with him the next week was shocked when he refused to allow her to do any blood work or anything on me. His reason? "We'll just see what happens." It was at this point that I finally wizened up and took the advice of those dear friends who had been urging me to find another OB.

I knew the moment I stepped into to Dr. Haij's office that I had made the right decision. They entire staff was warm, understanding and courteous. The doctor prescribed progesterone to even out my hormone levels, ordered me onto a moderate bed rest, and was genuinely trying his best to save my baby.

While home alone watching a sitcom two weeks later, however, a feeling came over me that I will never forget. There was not yet any cramping, no bleeding, nothing physically wrong with me. Yet I felt the life that had been living inside of me begin to fade away. This was it. Jesse was dying. I turned the television off and began to sing and talk to my unborn child. I explained how much Daddy and Mommy loved him, and how much that I knew Jesus loved him too. I prayed that he wasn't feeling pain. Then I just sat for hours, rocking the dying child in my womb with silent tears falling down my face.

Explaining the previous evening's events to my beloved upon his return from work the next morning made me feel insane. Surely the incident was merely the over-reaction of a hormonal and paranoid pregnant lady. My Beloved, however, did not dismiss my feelings. He insisted instead that I make an emergency appointment with Dr. Haij. The dear friend who had recommended him to me rushed to accompany me to the appointment, as my beloved had just returned from a twelve hour work shift, and was looking forward to another one that evening.

Dr. Haij ordered a sonogram, during which the technician was awkwardly very silent. He left the room to "go get a doctor' and left me alone on the cold examine table for what felt like an eternity. While waiting, I was flooded with a sense of peace that I had never before felt. It was the moment I learned what the bible is talking about when it says "peace that passes all understanding." I began to quiet sing "Amazing Grace" and though the words were coming from my lips, it felt as if I was being sung to. It was as if I could feel the arms of my Heavenly Father, rocking me and telling me that I would get through this.

Sure enough, Dr. Haij brought me the sad news that Jesse had indeed passed away, and that I would soon be suffering another miscarriage. He prompted me to schedule a D/C for early the next morning, but I stubbornly refused. What if the sonogram was wrong? It would be as if I'd had an abortion, I reasoned. He assured me that was not the case, but I still just couldn't go through with it. If I was going to lose this child, I was going to let my body do it naturally, as it had before. My thought process was that this would assuage me of the guilt scheduling a D/C would bring.

I went home and immediately got to work. I cleaned the house top to bottom, lugging the heavy vacuum cleaner up and down the steps multiple times. I baked pies for the event at church. I stayed as active as I could, hoping both to keep my mind off of the ever increasing physical and emotional pain, as well as secretly hoping to propel my body into action so that I would be able to avoid the surgery.

By the time we arrived at the church's pie sing the following evening,I was feeling quite miserable. That wasn't going to stop me, though. My beloved was youth pastor, and I knew that I needed to be strong, to show the kids that it is possible to serve the Lord in the midst of personal tragedy.

We headed over to dad and mom's after the church function to drop off the turkey my mom was set to prepare for Thanksgiving, just two days away. My pain was becoming worse by now, and the bleeding was quite heavy. I tried to hold things together as we said goodbye to both dad and mom, who actually left before we did, as they both had to go work the night shift. One last trip to the bathroom before we left, and I had to call my beloved in to prop me up so that I would not faint, as I passed clot after clot, some as large as a baseball. Shortly after my beloved got me safely downstairs to the sofa, I began to experience symptoms of shock. Not willing to wait on an ambulance, my beloved packed me into the car, practically having to carry me, and rushed me to the hospital in Baltimore. I'll never forget being embarrassed by the trail of blood as we made our way down the long corridor towards labor and delivery. While my beloved filled out the necessary insurance paper work, I asked to use the rest room. What happened next, I'm not so sure. The next thing I remember, I am on the floor with cheap paper towels, in the futile attempt to clean up the blood that was now splattered all over the floor, the walls, the commode, the sink and somehow even the bathroom mirror. I came out apologizing profusely for the mess, and they whisked off to the OR, where I was somehow able to convince them not to put me to sleep. (I think using the excuse of all the pie I had eaten at the church function earlier!)

I'll never forget the look on that nurse's horrified face. She glanced down at me as my legs were in the stirrups and grabbed the doctor's arm "Look!" she said, pointing at me fully exposed, spread eagle in stirrups. The doctor's eyes widened as he uttered a quick "we'll take care it" in response to the nurse. He shot her a look that clearly said "hush up, you're scaring the girl!" Oftentimes have I wondered what was so unusual about what two people who perform such procedures on a daily basis saw that night. I was too afraid to ask, even as the questions loomed in my mind weeks later at the follow up appointment.

My suspicion is that there were two babies there. I never had a D/C after loosing Jaime, and never passed the body during the bleeding. I believe having his lifeless body inside of me had caused infection, thus explaining why I felt so ill for so many months. I believe that infection may have cost Jesse his life. I also believe that maybe the Lord allowed me to conceive Jesse in order to spare my health, possibly my life. Of course this is all speculation. The quest to search for answers would undoubtedly prove painful and futile, therefore these things have I left to ponder within my heart.

The months following proved traumatic for me. I began to have panic attacks, so severe that the sound of an airplane flying overhead would send me into an hysterical meltdown. I could not close my eyes without seeing visions of horrible things; train crashes, volcano eruptions, death and destruction everywhere. Unlike when the doctor had misdiagnosed me at the beginning of my first pregnancy, I now truly was in a depression. Sure wish I hadn't have flushed those meds, now!

I am not sure of exactly when or how the Lord brought me out of that scary season in life, but I do know that it was only through His grace that I was able to emerge from that with grace and dignity. My source of strength, my source of hope, is Christ alone.

On May 10th of 2004, I saw the sonogram image of virile little boy within my womb. I remember thinking that never before had I seen a spinal cord so straight and perfect! He was strong, healthy and wiggling all around. Still, the remainder of the pregnancy was excruciatingly frightening. My beloved and I analysed every single move I made, every bite of food I put into my body. We could not bear the thought of loosing this little boy (dubbed "little cub" after our favorite children's book) we had come to love him so dearly already. On October 12th, 2004 Stephen Kaleb Lewis was born. He was perfectly healthy and absolutely beautiful. It was blatantly obvious to me that this was no ordinary little boy. This is someone whom the Lord has big plans for. Raising him was going to be an enormous responsibility. Never before had I experienced such a rush of emotion! Just holding him was out of this world! The birth announcements went out with this verse printed on them:

Psalm 30:5 "For his anger endureth for a moment; in his favor is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."

Three years later, that marvelous little guy became big brother to a set of twins with an absolutely amazing birth story. Graciously we watched the hand of God move in my body to prepare a way for them. My children are purpose for being. This is what I was meant to do. I don't always do it perfect, sometimes I don't even do it well, but I am doing what I was called to do. Raising these boys up to men who love and serve the Lord. I will never understanding why the Lord counted me worthy to be called of such a loft vocation, but I am so very grateful. I am blessed beyond measure.

*God bless anyone who actually took the time to ready this whole thing!*

Like looking in a mirror

2009-09-10T10:49:00.000-07:00

(Left to right: Ian, Kaleb, Ethan, Talan, Graham, and Sawyer)

Imagine my surprise quickly turning to glee as I (almost literally) "ran into" another similarly frazzled mommy of three at the library recently. We stood there comparing our matching broods (each of us toting a first grader and twin 18 month olds, all six of which are active boys) with awe, amusement, a appreciation at the knowledge that there really is someone else out there who truly understands. What a blessing my new friend has been to my heart already! A wealth of sound advice, and a truly empathetic ear to boot!
Perhaps the greatest blessing to me is this new found treasure chest of friendships, is that of Kaleb and Graham. How wonderful for my little boy to be able to play with someone else who understands the grand responsibility of having his entire world turned upside down when his home (and all the toys!) were over taken by not just one, but two very attention - demanding, very small little people. Someone else who knows what it is like for a simple trip to the grocery store to take all afternoon, as each and every adult must stop to comment and coo over "the twins." Finally... another big brother of twins to relate to! Not that they aren't awfully cute mind you.....

(Ian, Ethan, Sawyer (I believe), Talan in back

The older boys are off

preparing a puppet show for their brothers)

Almost as a symbol of great things to come, the day ended as Kaleb excitedly pointed out a rainbow in the fountain. (LOOK CLOSELY)

Yes, I truly am, blessed beyond measure!

Their futures are so bright.....

2009-08-30T18:31:00.000-07:00

They've got to wear shades!

How excited I was that November evening as we drove home from dinner out with my extended family. My grandparents were visiting from out of state, and this rare opportunity to get out of the house for a meal with our three precious little hooligans tagging along had caused me a bit of anxiety. The event went beautifully, however. I cheekily remarked to my beloved

"See! We can do this, we can handle having twins, no problem!"

Little did I know that within the next 15 minutes, a minor emergency would occur that would set off a sequence of events which would forever change my view of just who is really in control of our sweet little family.

As I whisked Ethan and Kaleb into the bathroom to prepare for their baths, Ian and David headed to the other room for some male bonding and music. Having just learned to crawl, no one could have guessed that the speed with which seven month old Ian would make it to the staircase... and then proceed to bounce all the way down to the bottom, would exceed the speed of his daddy chasing after him.

Frantic, David and I rush to access the damage. Clearly, we were much more traumatized by the incident than Ian was. As my bouncing baby boy crawled around playing happily, my beloved made the decision to have him checked out in the emergency room.

God bless Grandma and Pop Pop (who came to help with the other two boys)! Just one of the plethora of times they've rushed in to help us in time of need.

The hospital did a CT scan, told us that everything was fine, and sent us on our merry way. "Whew, so glad that's over!" Was my overconfident thought.

Only it was just beginning...

The phone call came a few days later. A solemn voice on the other end causes my stomach to somersault. "Mrs. Lewis, I have the results of Ian's CT scan." Then, silence.

Finally, a nervous laugh, followed by "Everything's okay, bu--"

(I interrupt with a relieved sigh) "Oh, I thought something was wrong there for a second!"

That is when she proceeded to tell me that everything was not indeed okay.

Everything was horrible. I was about to see all of my hopes and aspirations for my sweet little Ian replaced with constant anxiety and heartache over his future well being.

Apparently, she begins to explain, Ian was born with a congenital defect called Dandy -Walker syndrome. Research turns up case after case of children who live very happy normal lives... for a few years. Then one morning.. they just don't wake up.

It felt as if nothing could be more frightening, nothing could be worse.

That is, until the results of further testing came back...

They told me Kaleb had it too.

I love all of my children, and couldn't imagine life without any of them. But the twins were still young. They were new to this world, and hadn't really developed their own expectations about life. I was just beginning to come to terms with the fact that Ian was going to be "sick."

But Kaleb? Kaleb, he's my first-born. He already has plans for his future. He has hopes and dreams of his own that I so desperately want to see him fulfill.

My heart has never felt pain so intense.

The months to follow would send me on an emotional roller coaster of epic proportions. I had to make the agonizing decision to put them through the discomfort and risk of being put under general anesthesia for further testing that may or may not even lend us a glimpse at

the answers we so desperately sought.

That season of life would surely have been too much to bear If it weren't for the strong, loving arms of my ever gracious heavenly Father, and the constant encouraging support from my dear friends at policewives.org (big shout out to Tayna -- you rock!)

The process of scheduling and accomplishing test dates and subsequent visits with doctors to read those results was long and grueling.

For months I agonized over what information would be forthcoming once we finally got that much sought after meeting with the fancy John Hopkins doctor.

Then the day finally came.

Ethan's test results were confirmed free and clear of any concerns or abnormalities.

Kaleb and Ian do however have cysts on their brains. They will each have to be monitored closely, as the day may come when the cysts could put pressure on their cerebellums, resulting in damage that requires surgical repair.
However, they do NOT have Dandy Walker syndrome. Neither one of them does!

PRAISE THE LORD!

The reason for this season of anguish within my spirit may never be revealed.

One thing I do know, God is in control. He gave me these children to raise up for Him, and for His honor. We are not so awesome that "see, we can handle having twins!" God has given us the strength, He has given us the safety and wisdom to make it this far in our journey. Without Him, we can do nothing. What does the future hold? Of this much I am certain, the Lord wanted us to know. He allowed Ian to tumble down those stairs that fateful night. He put it on my heart to take Ethan to bath first. Maybe He wants us to know the signs because one day, one of the boys will need the surgery. But maybe, just maybe, the good Lord just wanted to teach cheeky old mom a lesson. Maybe He wanted to make sure that I would hold onto them a little bit tighter, that I would appreciate the wonderful gift that

He has given this family in these three beautiful little boys.

It is for this lesson and many like it that I can say, I am truly blessed beyond measure!

Bad blogger makes penance with cute kid pictures!

2009-08-30T17:31:00.000-07:00

Perhaps all the cuteness will win me the forgiveness of all the wonderful blog followers who have been growing irate due to my lack of posts????????????????????

couch potatoes! (left to right) Ethan, Ian, Kaleb

After the storm: Ian and Kaleb enjoy a puddle

David and Kaleb grab a snack

Ethan thinks this udderly ridiculous

Kaleb enjoys the park with his new friend (also Caleb!)

on the last day of summer vacation.

Ian escapes the blockade... he's so proud!

(don't forget to hit play!)

Time for homework, time for books, time for teacher's TERRIFIED looks!

2009-07-30T19:29:00.001-07:00

To say that homeschooling a rambunctious preschooler while caring for two breastfeeding infants last school year was difficult would be the understatement of the year. I honestly don't know how we managed, but for the grace of God.
As the time draws near for class bells to ring once again, my emotions rise and fall faster than that last roller coaster ride we hope to get in at Dutch Wonderland before summer ends. There are days when I feel the leading of the Holy Spirit filling me with ideas for lessons, crafts, and organization and feel as if I can hardly wait to begin.
Then there are days like today. Days when I realize that I am struggling to accomplish even half of my to do list even now during summer "break." I am wrought with the knowledge that as difficult as last school year was, this one promises to be harder. The twins are no longer satisfied with bouncy seats and baby swings. They want to do what big brother does. Exactly what big brother does. Everything big brother does. And though I plan to include them as much as possible, and even incorporate a separate class just for them, I know that Kaleb will need some undivided attention, and undivided attention is hard to come by in this house! Today was a day when the prospect of continuing to home school had me so overwhelmed that I was ready to quit before we even begin.
Then IT happened. I sat down to fill out the application for our curriculum, and had to include a letter explaining why I wanted to use this particular program. In detailing how that in public school Kaleb would have to repeat preschool because of his October birthday, I began to list some of what he'd accomplished last year.
He learned to read and write, basic addition and subtraction, patterns, calenders, telling time, U.S. Presidents, fire safety, seasons, weather, using the telephone, and completed a "good manners" course. Additionally, he completed several scientific experiments, bible study crafts, and art projects.
As I listed each accomplishment, my mind drifted back to the moment when I realized he'd "gotten it" about each subject. Some things took a little longer than others, but I always knew. I could take one look at the expression on his face and see when it had really set in.
I am so thankful for that time we had together. Having two newborns in the house is a lot of work. It is easy for an independent, then - three year old to get pushed to the side. I will forever be grateful for that nudging of the Heavenly Father, guiding us away from the ever enticing temptation to have sent him away to preschool.
Is it the Lord's will for kaleb to get all of his elementary education at home? For all of our boys throughout their academic careers? That is a question that can only be answered in time. We will continue to pray, and observe, access and reassess as time goes on, as we strive to obtain what is best for our family in the eyes of the one we will one day give account to.
This year, we will be homeschooling. It will not be easy. It will take patience, laughter, tears, and a lot of prayer. Count it all joy, I say!
In the meantime, there is still much summer "break" to be enjoyed. We have pool parties, vacation bible schools, theme parks, and play dates in the park still left on that seemingly never empty calender.
To watch my children frolic and play in the summer, to have the ability to stay home and teach them, to have opportunities many mothers do not, to have survived last school year with only a few gray hairs to speak of, Lord I am truly thankful. I have been blessed beyond measure!

Same Difference

2009-07-24T11:44:00.001-07:00

She's intellectually mesmerizing with an academic record that would blow your mind. She is well cultured, well bred, and an absolute joy to be around.
Aside from our dark hair and shared birth year, we are polar opposites.
How then do two (relatively) young women with so little in common have hearts that are knit so closely with one another?
We share the same Father. An amazing Father, who's love and compassion for us stretches clear across the globe. This is a fact that we have learned through the research we like to call our friendship. Whether Beth is suffering homesickness while studying abroad in Scotland, or I am suffering sick-of-homeness while being a soccer mom in the same little town we grew up in, our compared notes show His mercy shinning down in our lives.
What a joy to share stories of those little ways that our Father shows us His concern for our daily lives!
There are many prayers requests shared between the two of us, with the unspoken understanding that the other one could never possibly understand what we are experiencing. That is perfectly okay with us though, because we each know that the other will bring those requests before the Father who created each of us with all of our individual quirks and challenges, a Father who knows and understands far beyond what we can even understand about our situation our self.
The thought of such a friendship brings a smile of delight to my face, as I truly am blessed beyond measure.

Then we'll just have to do it ourselves...

2009-07-19T07:54:00.001-07:00

After much internal debate, I came to the conclusion that it was indeed not a wise decision to take the boys to church this morning, thus exposing others to their ever -dripping noses and only sporadically tissue covered coughing fits.

To say that it becomes challenging to teach two one year old toddlers and a rambunctious preschooler the virtues of sitting quietly through a church services by myself while their dad must work Sundays would be the understatement of the year. (Especially living in a culture wrought with nurseries and children's church at every available spiritual community)

It is for this reason I am so unwilling to miss a service. Because, frankly, in my flesh is is always a struggle to go. The choice not to go this week serves only to make provision for the flesh so that we will continue to miss week after week.

How do I protect the general public from my germy little men, while still instilling in them the values of self-discipline, family worship, and the life altering power that comes from the word of God, and from communicating with the Savior in prayer?

Well, we have church. Sure, we may not have been able to go to church this morning, but there certainly wasn't anything stopping us from having church!

We donned our Sunday best, and retreated to the living room. There we prayed, praised, and studied. We learned that with God, all things are possible. Just as the impossible became reality for David when he slew Goliath. Praise the Lord for a Sunday that has been blessed beyond measure!

(Everyone sits to listen as mom reads from the bible)

(Same story, this time in sticker book the boys get to decorate)

(mazes and coloring pages)

Because sometimes you just need a break

2009-07-18T11:12:00.000-07:00

I awoke this morning with high aspirations for a much needed day of rest. We had a week full of play dates, puppet shows, and pool parties that kept us hoping each day, followed by an exciting vacation bible school that extended way past bedtime each evening.

(pool party at Aunt Patty's. Ethan, Kaleb, Ian, cousin Ryan, cousin Stevie)
(Ian and Ethan at VBS)
The boys however, had other plans. Each tired and cranky, yet none willing to spend the day sitting back to relax. So off we go on an adventure to our front porch, where mud and dirt await.

(Boys will be boys: Ian and Kaleb in green, Ethan in blue all playing in the flower bed )
Once the boys were thoroughly filthy, it was time for us to retreat to the deck out back, where we could rinse off muddy hands and feet before going into the house. One thing lead to another, and the before I knew it, our plans had changed drastically. We were all dripping wet, running around laughing and giggling at the silliness of playing with the hose water in our regular clothes instead of the typical swim gear. How amazing that something so simple could ease the tension of exhaustion that previously plagued my little darlings!

It is the little moments like these that help me face each day with a smile in my heart, knowing that I truly am blessed beyond measure.

The king and I

2009-07-15T07:14:00.000-07:00

Being an only child really wasn't all that bad. I was never forced to share all my toys, never had to split a happy meal, and of course, I had all of mom and dad's attention!

Watching my boys however, I witness relationships with varied emotions like I've never experienced. I see relationships with one another (as the three of them together, as "the twins" or each of the younger ones with their big brother) the shear depth of which amazes me.
Take for instances this little gem I had the pleasure of trying to understand just the other day.
It was hot and muggy out, just the perfect weather to sit out by the pool eating an ice pop. Ethan drops his on the ground (throws it actually) and walks away. Seeing this, Ian gladly picks it up. Now Ian has two ice pops, and is happily eating both his and his brothers'. Ethan suddenly realizes that Ian has his ice pop and burst into tears. I know it was his to begin with, so I tell Ian that we much share, as I hand Ethan back the pop he was originally enjoying. Ethan smiles down at the ice pop that is now in his hand, and immediately puts it back into Ian's mouth. He wanted to have control over what happened to his treat, but his love for his brother lead him to avoid depriving him of what had seen him enjoying so much!
Countless are such stories amongst the Lewis boys. They are best friends, worst enemies, and in all together through thick and thin. And I get to watch it all happen! Praise the Lord!

Mommy and Me

2009-07-12T11:27:00.000-07:00

Cherished are the memories from my childhood of moments stolen

away with just one of my parents and I. No extravagance necessary. It could be a trip to the bank with my dad, followed by a McDonald's breakfast. Or maybe it was singing along to the gospel hymns playing in the tape deck of mom's car, as we drove to the supermarket on a Saturday.

The occasion mattered not, but the shear togetherness, coupled with the conversations we had during those times, etched values into my heart that have shaped who I am today.

Finding ways to provide such memories for my own children proves daunting. Life is going so fast, often seeming to spin out of control.

So when Kaleb Begin talking about "his favorite restaurant" every time we'd pass the local Cracker Barrel (despite the fact that he'd only eaten their once, over a year ago) I jumped at the chance.

We planned it as a celebration for ending the school year. After all, I have been astonished at the leaps and bounds in which he grew academically since September. He had earned a special treat, we both had. Seeing as how Kaleb spent the school year learning how to read and write over the wails and endless attention seeking of his twin brothers, it was only right that this special outing be reserved for him and him alone.

We ate, played, shopped, and took pictures. Most importantly though, we talked. It didn't matter what was said. It mattered that I was undistracted. Able to look into his eyes and truly listen as he described in great detail how the evil Dr. Octavius's vicious plan to take over the world was foiled by the amazing Spider-man.

I hope to have many more such days. Days where I can focus my undivided attention on each individual child. The demands of the world (and especially their brothers!) disappearing into the background so my entire universe can revolve around each boy, at least for a few precious moments in time.

The smile on his face in the picture above says it all, I am truly blessed above measure!

Big Bang my Foot!

2009-07-09T18:31:00.000-07:00

Those of you who follow regularly will be pleased to note that this blogs lack of updates recently has not been due to a lack of life lessons, but rather due to a lack of quality time between my computer and I.
Tuesday was a day that forever burned even deeper into my mind and heart a fact that I have always believed.
This world has a creator. A designer capable of grandeur no human could conjure.
The day began with a trip to the zoo. Amidst all the chaos of keeping the fingers of my three little guys and their friends out of the reach of the animals mouth (a task much more difficult than one would believe) was a lesson in this great artist whom created our world. The intricate patterns of the giraffe and lynx are amazing! So many different animals, so many different colors, shapes and sizes! Each with his own purpose and plan. They did not 'just happen" to "evolve" that way: They were created unique and intentionally. My Father made them all!

Our next stop involved taking all five boys to McDonald's for lunch. Talk about an adventure! My mind went into panic overdrive, grasping desperately at any game I could think of to keep them all quiet and occupied while we awaited the food to arrive.
My fear, of course, was that we would disturb other diners. However, I was surprised once again (as I often am) by the amount of folks who find such joy in listening to the laughter of little boys. Several elderly people took time to smile and converse with them, no doubt reminiscing about the wonders of youthfulness. Youthful energy that brings joy to those who no longer have quite as much, something created (at least in part) for that very purpose.

The real lesson for me though came a bit later. The long drive home had lulled the children into a deep slumber, thus we took a bit of detour to allow them a few extra minutes.

I pulled the minivan into the parking lot of the little old country church where I gave my heart to the Lord so many years ago. Staring out at the three crosses where I had prayed so many times, my line of sight was drawn to the sky, where I became awestruck at the beauty of such a majestic creation. No picture could capture the infinite wisdom I was mesmerized by, feeling as though I were seeing into the very heart of God. It was as if I could reach out and grab a handful of clouds. Never had I saw a greener green in the fields, or a bluer blue in the sky. This did not happen by accident. What amazed me so much was the realization that the master of the universe who created all of this wonder, also created my heart. He knows me. Good, bad, or indifferent.

There is a burden on my heart these days that may not be spoken about freely. Giving it to the Lord at that spot made me realize that He already knows exactly what is in my heart, because He is the one who put it there! He has a plan and a purpose for me, just as He does for all of His glorious creation. PRAISE THE LORD!

The big bang theory? Evolution? If you ask me, its just a bunch of:

Duck, Duck, Goose!

2009-07-03T07:32:00.000-07:00

We spent the day yesterday day playing at the duck pond. While there are many wonderful lessons to be learned at such a mystic location, the most surprising to me came from something as common and simple as a leaf. It was unique and beautiful. Created purposefully, just as each one of these beautiful boys. What a delight to my heart as I gave each one a little squeeze, looking into his eyes and saying "If God cared enough about this little leaf to make it so special, how much more does he care about a little boy like you? God created you special, and He has a very special plan and purpose for your life." I can't be sure, but I think my little guys walked around holding their heads just a little higher after that!

feeding the ducks

Pine Sol Poll answer revealed!

2009-07-01T06:47:00.001-07:00

It was a humid summer weekday, years before the twins were even a glimmer in their daddy's eye. We had the pleasure of spending a couple of days visiting Grandma and Pop Pop Lewis in the peaceful little town of Warsaw VA.

Heping out a little, we had Grandma write us out a shopping list, and headed to the nearest Wal*Mart. How excited Kaleb was to pick out a brand new chew toy for Red, Pop Pop's friendly little beagle!

We returned to the house with all the groceries, and just enough time to get them put away and dinner started before Pop Pop was due to return from work. I realize that we've forgotten the chew toy in the car, and run out to get it, closing the door behind me to keep the air conditioned air inside.

As I return to the door, not 30seconds later, I hear the frantic screams of my beloved husband and Mother in law. They are panicked, and I know Kaleb is hurt, but cannot hear him making any noise.

The door is locked. I begin banging, pounding at the door and begging someone to open it, or at the very least "tell me what happened!"

While I'm sure it was less than a minute until David got to the door to let me in, it felt as if hours had passed. I didn't even take the time to ask what was wrong before I had the phone and had dialed 911.

Turns out, sweet young little Kaleb had seen the brand new bottle of pine sol on the table. Thinking it was apple juice, he opened the cap and took a big swig! Thankfully, he did not ingest much, and was no worse for the wear.

What a scary day for mom and day, though! He is still alive and well, suffering no adverse effects from the incident years later. It is for reasons like this that I can say, we are truly blessed beyond measure!

Holiday at the Hemi's

2009-07-01T06:21:00.000-07:00

What a blessing loving grandparents are in a boys life! We had the pleasure of spending some time yesterday in the the oasis of fun and adventure that is endearingly known as Pop Pop and Grandma's house.

Ian convinces Pop Pop that he will be safe going down the slide

Ethan still manges to have a good time...

even though he felt badly most of the day

Super Kaleb swings into action on the swing

Praise the Lord for a wonderful day!

The bug we just can't squash

2009-06-29T09:21:00.001-07:00

This is how some boy or another has looked around my house ever since Christmas. It seems the secret of health and vitality has escaped me. Trip after trip to the pediatrician, co-pay after co-pay (that man must have a house on the Rivera now, thanks to us!) yet no real answers. "These things ping pong back and forth a lot" and "You'll just have to keep the fever down with Motrin and wait it out" are the most common answers to my frantic calls,

as I get yet another reading on the thermometer of 103 degrees or higher.

Ethan is the most recently afflicted. We just got Kaleb almost A-okay, and Ian isn't doing too grand, I don't think he is far behind his twin in this most recent battle with the big bad bug.

They are missing a lot of fun this summer feeling icky. Nasty coughs, high fevers and body aches have become a normal part of life for them.

As their mother, I am discouraged, exhausted, and SCARED! How do I keep my sanity during this trial? For starters,

James 1:2

"...count it all joy when ye fall into diverse temptations."

This verse gets me to thinking. You know, we really are blessed beyond measure even in the midst of hardship. We have much to "count it all joy" about. If it weren't for the blessing of awesome health insurance, that copay I was complaining about would hurt much worse! We have access to countless doctors and specialist, living less than an hour from several big name hospitals. The boys are all talking, and playing, and feeling badly truly is not the end of the world. My prayer is that this season of feeling icky will teach them valuable lessons. Lessons such as compassion, patience, and perseverance. Maybe even lessons in how to count it all joy!

Not-so "Grand" Theft Auto

2009-06-27T06:34:00.001-07:00

Our busy day ended with all my handsome guys getting their hair cut.
It was the twins' first ever! No more curls for Ethan!

Yesterday was a day filled with fun and adventure for three very special little boys. Our day started out at Mickey D's, climbing and crawling through the play equipment awaiting Daddy's phone call that he was ready to be picked up from the doctor.

From there, we stopped by the MVA "real quick." No such luck! Upon hearing that the wait would be anywhere from 1 -3 hours, (ended up being closer to 31/2) the boys and I left Daddy to wait once again, and headed out on the town. The trick was to find fun things to do to keep them occupied, yet close enough to the MVA to pick David up as soon as he called. We went to a couple of different parks, shopped in Target, (where we splurged on this awesome wadding pool, and all the little toys and trinkets to go with it),

and then ended up at this darling little toy store in Bel Air called Tiddlywinks. The boys were eager to redeem their free jelly bean coupon, given as incentive to complete the library's summer reading program. (Yes, the little ones can participate, they only have to be read to!)

It was our first visit into the new little store, and the four of us just stood in awe for a moment before the boys ran of to explore the glorious playroom awaiting them in the back. http://www.tiddlywinkstoys.com/

The minutes flew by in that exotic realm of new and exciting play-things, so much so, that we felt as if we had just entered when we received that long awaited ring of the cell phone. It was David. It was time to go! Not willing to make my beloved wait any longer, I said thank you to the store owner for the jelly beans, and quickly buckled the boys in the stroller, all while super Kaleb was on super fast clean-up duty.

Imagine my horror when, upon returning home, I opened the candy bag to find a tiny plastic car! Kaleb was immediately questioned, and admitted to seeing the car at the store, but he did not take it. Apparently, it was wrapped tightly in one of the twin's little fist as we were doing our lighting-fast dash out of the store.

Nothing in me wanted to return to that store today. It is located right on main street, and I oh-so loathe parallel parking. However, try as I might to justify keeping the trivial trinket, my conscience wouldn't let me pass over this important learning opportunity. So I let out a deep sigh, and picked up the phone to let them know we were on our way. The boys and I had a long talk about the importance of not taking things that don't belong to us, and I realized that because of this little inconvenience, we may have been able to instill a lesson that will prevent one of them from deciding to purposefully steal something shiny one day when they are older. For this blessed opportunity, I am truly thankful. I realize that it is the little things such as this that make my life truly blessed beyond measure.

I scream, you scream

2009-06-25T17:33:00.001-07:00

Imagine if you will a glorious farm land, filled with acre upon acre of woods, wide open fields, and countless old buildings bursting with adventure. There were hay bails to jump, corn silos to climb, tractors to ride, a stream to swim in, even cattle to chase!

Yes, I grew up in a child's paradise. Often are the times when my mind's eye will wonder back down memory lane, leaving me feeling a bit saddened by all the blessed experiences my offspring will never be able to share. There is, however, one thing that "city life" has to offer that old farm house never did. (okay, okay, so we are no where near the city, but compared to the farm, it sure feels like it!) The ice cream truck! What a thrill to my soul to watch my children's eyes light up when they hear that all familiar jingle way in the distance. To see the anticipation build as they listen intently throughout the day, hoping to hear just a note or two in some neighboring development, giving them hope that he is on his way.

As we sat on the steps tonight, ice cream dripping down all of their faces, me just as sticky as they from the task of trying desperately to keep their prized treats off the ground, I reveled in their smiles. I smiled too. I was thinking "Hmm, maybe this 'city life' isn't so bad after all!"

Put to good use - not just for marigolds anymore!

2009-06-25T08:18:00.001-07:00

"Keep Harford county beautiful." What an accurate little slogan for our ever growing yet still rural little area. We are blessed to have everything here that a family raising small children could want. Rolling green hills, plentiful playgrounds, huge libraries, Chuck E. Cheese, every fast food chain imaginable, recreation centers by the handfuls.

Obviously, most days the fact that our tiny claim to this bountiful land happens to be a townhouse with practically no yard, really is not a problem. We simply load up the minivan and head out on another adventure. We certainly have enough parks and playgrounds to choose from.

However, there are days like today, when loading up the minivan is just not practical. These are the moments when we miss having a yard for the boys to run around in.

The past two days have been spent stuck inside the house awaiting the departure of the latest virus from our humble home. (This time, it is Kaleb afflicted with the icky cough and freakishly high fever) He is feeling a tad more like himself, but still not well enough to go running around a park, and I am certainly not convinced that he is no longer contagious, so there is also the goal of keeping him away from other people's little precious. (Which is no easy tasks, considering all the neighborhood little girls who beat down my door every day asking if he can come out and play)

Alas, the boy needed some fresh air, we all did. It is for just such occasions that I keep a full flower bed. No, not full of beautiful pink roses and golden marigolds like all the neighbors. No, our flower beds are full... of dump trucks! (and other miscellaneous plastic digging equipment. )Nothing can entertain three little boys longer than sitting around digging in the dirt together.

Seeing the three of them out there this morning, little ones covered head to toe in dirt, all three grinning ear to ear, I couldn't help but to bow my head and whisper a "thank you" to my heavenly Father - I am truly blessed beyond measure.

Night Sky Breakfast!

2009-06-24T08:39:00.001-07:00

(pictured: Ian)

yummy star shaped honey biscuits

Having the doctor "prescribe" honey as the main treatment plan for Kaleb's chronic cough is a dream come true to him. All I heard from him yesterday was how much he couldn't wait to use some of that honey we originally bought for purely medicinal purposes as a sweet breakfast treat. Below is what I came up with.

As with most kid - friendly meals, this is amazingly simple and easy. It is also a universe of fun!

Step 1: Prepare Bisquick "homemade" biscuit dough according to package directions.

Step 2: Use a star -shaped cookie cutter instead of a round glass to cut biscuit shapes.

Step 3: Bake only about 6 or 7 minutes. (package says 8, but that's a tad too long for the stars) Allow to cool.

Step 4: with a sharp knife, drill a small hole in the top of each star, going down at least halfway.

Step 5: slowly fill with honey

Step 6: Serve on a dark blue plate, with a banana or eggs placed to look like the moon, and various other fruit garnishes to complete the "night sky" motif. (a raspberry for mars, blueberries for Neptune and Pluto, blackberries for asteroids, etc..) Yummy!

*Please Note: Honey is not recommended for children under age 2. (per our pediatrician) I suggest filling the stars of little ones with pureed blueberries, fruit jam or mashed bananas. My two littlest ones loved theirs plain... they each ate two and a half of them!

I predict a future full of sonshine (the impact of seeing my shadow before the sun rise)

2009-06-22T06:38:00.000-07:00

This morning began like every other, with my alarm clock beckoning me from the arms of my beloved at five minutes of four, way before dawn's early light. Just as I had finally fumbled around enough to find that snooze button, there was an unusual occurrence. Kaleb, who is typically a very heavy sleeper, was calling out to me.
Fearing he was sick (usually the only reason he'd awake so early) I forgot all about my desire to snooze and flew into his room.
I found my little man sitting up on his bunk bed, wide eyed and bushy tailed, eager to tell me all about the dream he just had about a super cool fast train. Try as might to convince him that there were still a couple of hours left of good train dreams, my little shadow insisted on staying up to "help" me with my morning routine.
Off we go, downstairs to start the day. I fix my tea and toast, and heat him up some apple juice to go with his toast. Then we snuggle up to the table and open my brand new pink and brown, soft leather bible that was a birthday gift from David last month. The pink satin bookmark is resting on the story of Moses, admonishing the children of Israel for worshipping the golden calf while he was on the mount receiving the ten commandments. This is one of Kaleb's favorite stories (he loves destroying things, so the whole crushing the calf into powder, and throwing the tablets down to break them into pieces really floats his boat) he was enraptured in the scripture. We had a nice chat about sin and consequence, and I was quite pleased with the amount of detail he remembered from the last time we discussed this story.
Alas, the time for rest and prayer was over, and we moved to the basement so mommy could work up a sweat on the treadmill and elliptical machines. Making conversation as I prepared his cartoons and got my sneakers on, I causally stated "It was pretty cool that you got to see what Mommy does in the mornings before you wake up, huh?"
His reply caused a chain of emotions that has greatly impacted my parenting. He smiled simply and said: "Yes, mommy. I want to do the same thing every morning when I'm all grown up!"
My first reaction was to be filled with pride. I really thought I had done something wonderful, having instilled in my son the desire to begin his day with the word of God, and to take care of his body with exercise.
Then reality hit me. That pride turned to embarrassment, then quickly to terror.

For if he wanted imitate the "good" things that he saw me do, what else would he see me do today that he might also want to imitate?
Will I try to bury my frustration at fussy babies this afternoon by sneaking into the pantry and mindlessly stuff my face with junk food, when I should be bowing my head to ask my Lord for strength?
Will he watch as I groan and force a half-hearted smile at Wal*Mart, as the fifth person just today approaches me with a coy grin to remind me to say "my, you've got your hands full", or "better you than me." when I should be using each one of those opportunities to share Christ?
What will happen when I come into my bedroom this morning to put away laundry, and hear the computer calling my name? Will I quickly check my email and respond to what's important, or will I invest way too much time into the posts of my friends on Policewives.org, while the three little lives I should be investing that time in are eagerly awaiting my attention?
They say that if the groundhog sees his Shadow on groundhog day, we will have 6 more weeks of winter. What can happen if a mother sees her little shadows each day? What will happen if I spend my days remembering that there are innocent eyes watching every move I make?
Its well and fine for a young boy to see his mother reading the bible. That's great. However, what is going to really impact his life, what would really make my life worth imitating, is if he can see me living the bible.
I want my children's futures to be full of sonshine. As of today, thanks to my wonderful little Shadow, this verse will have new meaning in my life:

"But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves... But whoso looketh into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deed."

James 1:22, 25

The moment I just knew...

2009-06-21T04:18:00.000-07:00

It was a balmy evening late in the summer of 2001. I was outside getting some fresh air (no air conditioning at the farm, you know!) gazing up at the stars, and chatting on the phone with a young man with whom I was becoming increasingly smitten.
He was school teacher, and today was the first day of school. The excitement in his voice as he talked about his students was intoxicating. He had so much enthusiasm, so much passion for these kids, most of whom he had only met for the first time today. As he began to talk about his plans to encourage these students in their walk with Christ (did I mention he was finding ways to do this as he taught Algebra??) there was only one thing going through my mind:
"This is the man that I want to be the father of my children." It was an almost audible voice, so loud that it practically drowned out my beloved.
Today, as the mother of three wonderful little boys that this man has sired, I have become fully aware of why the Lord chose him to be their daddy.
One of the biggest challenges I face as a mother of boys, is teaching them that their masculinity is to be celebrated. How do you teach that in modern culture? TV dads are portrayed as oafs, every television commercial, cartoon movie, even popular music portrays men in general as fumbling, bumbling idiots. That is not God's plan for their manhood, and don't ever want them to think that it is. Praise the Lord that they have such a wonderful example of true masculinity in their strong, intelligent, protective, and loving daddy! What an amazing model of their heavenly Father he truly is!
I want to take this opportunity to give a big shout out to two other important examples of true masculinity my boys have. My own wonderful daddy, and my also very wonderful father - in -law. What a blessing that our boys have not one, but two Pop Pops to teach them how to be proud of the dirt-eating, snake loving, wild-hearted creation that they were created in the image of God himself to be!

They really are listening! (A blessing from Ethan)

2009-06-20T17:46:00.000-07:00

Within the hustle and bustle of each hectic day, (and with a home-schooled four year old and twin one year olds, believe me they're all hectic!)
There are two main points that I strive to to instill in the heart of each one of my boys. At some point during each day, I try to get alone with each of them for just a second to say:
1. Jesus loves you.
and...
2. God has a special plan and purpose for your life.
Most of the time, this little bit of motherly wisdom is met with a look of "whatever, mom" as a boy wiggles away to find a matchbox or a dump truck to reek havoc with.
During our bedtime devotion this evening, however, I was reminded of just how important it is that I continue to strive never to forget to remind them of those two important truths.
We read John 1:3 "All things were made by Him, without Him was not anything made that was made." I went around the room asking: so Kaleb, who made the dogs and cats? Ian, who made the sky? etc.. etc.. Fully expecting that the twins (who at not quite 15 months have a pretty extensive vocabulary, but still do not talk very much) so I was expecting that they would not answer.
I got to Ethan, and asked: "Ethan, who made you?" He flashed me that same killer smile in the picture, and while grinning ear to ear, exclaimed "JESUS!" Loud, clear and with a certain confidence that told me that really knew. I mean, deep down in his heart KNEW that Jesus made him, and loves him.
If I have accomplished nothing else today, my heart has been truly blessed above measure!