Pumpkins and Tornadoes

     It is officially fall here on the mountain. It smells like fall, feels like fall, and is certainly acting like a typical Alabamian fall--sunny and gorgeous outside with schools closing because of tornado watches and all that jazz. Naturally, UAH refuses to close and remains open for the remainder of the day (despite the severe weather and tornado watches from now until 5pm). I don't think they'll have the satisfaction of seeing my face at school today. A curvy drive down the mountain and 30-minute drive to school doesn't seem worth the risk--I've already driven off the mountain in inclement weather and into a tree before, I would really rather not experience that again--personal preference, I suppose.
     My entire kitchen smells like pumpkin--oh yeah, it looks like pumpkin too. Food processors aren't 100% mess-free no matter what they say. In my attempt to cook more meals despite my pregnancy related hatred of the kitchen, when I do actually feel like cooking I try to make the whole batch instead of cutting it in half in effort to eat some and freeze the rest for a busy, rainy or pregnant day. Last week I tried a pasta dish. Note to self: make sure you LIKE the meal before cooking alot and freezing it. Anyways, this pumpkin apple soup is one I saw on a friend's facebook. I've been obsessed ever since. My only complaint is that I am still on the quest to think of a perfect side dish. Pumpkin muffins? Is that too pumpkin-y?
    In effort to ignore the wind, I will start talking about my baby (which could take awhile!). Did I ever mention how absolutely wonderful it is to have a daughter to shop for? Now I can spend even more time in the store--time in my section and then time in the baby section. I think that thing about moms only caring to spend their money on their children may have some truth to it. When I first heard it I was very skeptical (being an admittedly selfish shopper). But now I find myself squeezing my budget just to get what I actually need instead of want because I'm so infatuated with making sure the baby has a good first-year wardrobe. I may even go to Plato's Closet next week--wait a minute! Did this Anthropologie-Belk/Dillards only shopper just mention the store Plato's Closet??? I can explain, I can explain--there's this line of clothes that I LOVE that can only be found at baby boutique stores. Little Girl really must have some Zutano (the brand) clothing or I'm sure she just won't be quite happy!! But in order to afford it, mommy has to go a little cheaper than usual. See? It makes sense.
     Okay, Little Girl has a name now. A name that's special to my husband and I for a variety of reasons. It is Eva Therese Hobbs. I think it has a completely beautiful and elegant flow to it. The name Eva is Hebrew in origin--important to me because of my Jewish heritage that I never want to forget. Also, Eva means "giver of life." She sure has brought such life to John and I already. We continue to be absolutely thrilled about her. Do you know how much fun just lying on the couch and watching your stomach pop up and down can be?! She is my entertainment, everything I care about, inside every prayer request of mine, and the life that I cannot wait to see in just 3 1/2 short months. Our prayer for her is that she would give life to others as well--true life from the Life Giver. Therese is my middle name, as well as my mom's middle name. Words can't express how much my mom has impacted my life by her love for me and her joy in the Lord--and if I can impact little Eva's life somehow, the desires of my heart would truly be fulfilled. I knew I wanted to pass down the middle name to my first daughter. So Eva Therese it is. John was the first to think of it, surprisingly! He can't be more excited either--he asks about "his girls" all the time. :)
  

blessed.

     When the seasons begin to change, I always go through a time of deep reflection. Memories, good and bad, from past seasons reawaken in my mind. Just the smell of a new season emerging outside is  nostalgic enough to make my thoughts come alive. This isn't just a pregnancy thing either--the sense of smell IS the strongest sense we have.
    Sometimes it's easy to start dwelling on the past more than it is to dwell in the present. Questioning occurs out of the subconscious, bringing to mind all that could have been but didn't happen in life--how things would have been different had A and not B occurred, what it would have been like had God not taken away this and given that instead.
     I'm not a country girl--country music is slightly revolting to me. But when I hear Garth Brook's song "Unanswered Prayers," tears come to my eyes. Some of God's greatest gifts in my life HAVE been unanswered prayers. I think back to things that meant to much years ago--yet had God answered those requests, I would be nowhere near where I am right now. For instance, I am EXCEEDINGLY glad that He did not answer my heartfelt, FERVENT 9-year old prayer requests to let me get pregnant with hecktuplets after I first got married. Note--hecktuplets are NINE BABIES AT ONCE. Nevertheless, there were other things that were closer to my heart that I asked for as far as my future went. Not one of them came to be--and reflecting upon them, God truly knows what is best--all the time, even when its painful.
     I'm *trying* to get sleepy in bed while John is in the next room studying. He's been at his Kinematics homework for hours on end. Lying here, just looking around the room, it hit me on just how blessed I am. I see furniture and stuff that came from just me or just him--I see articles that have been attained as newlyweds--and I see a big semi-organized pile of pretty, frilly things for our little baby girl. Oh, how He has blessed me! He truly works EVERYTHING out for good, and I never want to take that for granted. An unfinished scrapbook of our BEAUTIFUL wedding that occurred just 10 months ago lies on the floor--a beautiful work in progress, if I do say so myself. The baby things remind me of years of praying for my future children. This computer sitting on top of a rather large and growing belly is an excellent reminder of that blessing too. :) The sounds of John turning textbook pages in the next room remind me just how wonderful and hardworking he is for our family. I know he's not suffering through Kinematics for the fun of it. He is doing it for me, and he's doing it for the baby. I get frustrated when he doesn't give me enough spending money for the month--but that's for the good of our family as well. I'm so thankful for a strong minded man who clearly has our family's future in mind and won't let anything get in the way of our good--even if it means having to lose sleep to study for school and wake up at an ungodly hour to go get hours in at work. I am so blessed to have him.
     Maybe it's easier to focus on the past because it's a done deal. What's happened has happened, and nothing can change that. Focusing on the present is so much harder--I am overwhelmed by God's faithfulness to me as I feel so undeserving. There's so much I want to do for His glory, starting just by living my life the way He wants me to now. 

Learning from the waves

     The ocean--so wild and untamed, uncontrollable and vicious. Every crashing wave reminds me of its fierceness by the resounding boom of the mighty water hitting the land. And yet--as I admire its vastness that extends farther than the human eye can see--the deep blue and serenity of the calm horizon are so undaunting, even peaceful. In one, it is a sea of monstrosity and tranquility. Yet how can one expanse be both serene yet provoking? It's like our God--a God of judgement and mercy; both wrath and forgiveness. Such things are too high for me to comprehend . . .
     Yet, as each rolling wave comes crashing in, I am reminded that His love truly does endure forever. He holds the ocean in the palm of His hand. So great is His love for me!
     The waves and the tide hold life lessons in their mysterious continuity. The crashing waves never stop. Sometimes I feel the same way--will some trials ever stop? Do they have to continue crashing in . . . do I even get a break? And then the tide rises. It rises higher than we often envision it can. Like a child who cannot understand how their sandcastle was destroyed by the water when it is now so far back on the seashore that you'd have to run awhile to reach it--how can God possibly deem it necessary to not only bring on the tide, but to let it rise?
     But the crashing waters are not all that occur. What comes after the wave? An immediate calm. Nothing is more comforting to me than to sit on the edge of the tide, letting the water wash over me gently and then watching it recede, crystal clear, rippling its way back into the body of water from which it came. It's like a reassurance. Reassurance that everything will be alright--reassurance that although the tide will come, so it will recede. The oncoming tide can be daunting. The sweet, gentle recession brings nothing but calm. God will not give us anything beyond what we can handle.

    "How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand. When I awake, I am still with you." Ps 139:17,18

      So I sing with Mikeschair in their song, "Let the Waters Rise"--

There's a raging sea, right in front of me. Wants to pull me in, bring me to my knees.  

So let the waters rise, if You want them too. I will follow You--I will follow You!

Of newlyweds being apart . . .

     You can call me a wimp, but the fact is that I've never been away from my husband for more than one night in the almost-10 months we've been married, and the fact that we're about to be apart for 7-8 days--it devastates me. I don't like being apart from John, especially at night--it's hard enough waking up to an empty bed on week days at home, but at least I know he's not far away. I have really needed a vacation since the pregnancy, so when my parents offered to take me along with the family on a week long vacation to West Palm Beach, FL, I knew I wanted to go. John prayed about it and felt it'd be the best for me. However--being such a hardworking husband and soon-to-be father, John couldn't go a week without his 63-hour work and school schedule. Now, I'm married to an engineer--I'm geared to expect to be with him every single night. Nevertheless, our parting earlier today was filled with many tears. We knew I should go on this trip--but . . . but . . . apart? Call it pregnancy hormones or whatever you want, but man . . . I sure miss that guy, even if it's only been 5 hours and 20 minutes.
     "Parting is such sweet sorrow." Really? What's sweet about parting? The answer to this question dawned on me as John and I were holding hands before I left. Parting IS sorrow--but having someone to say goodbye to is actually a blessing. Having a loved one to cry on while parting--and having someone to come home to--is sweet indeed. The reason we're sad is because we're apart for a time. I have someone to say goodbye to, I have someone to welcome me home. Parting is a sweet sorrow indeed.
     I know he'll get alot of school accomplished this week without me begging him to stay up late and spend time with me, and I know it'll be so good for me to be at the beach. But, even better--it'll be good to be in his arms again.