letters

So here is the deal: My last name starts with an I.* I love my last name. I love my husband. I love that my husband was willing to share it with me.

I love the look of decorating with letters. Having your family's namesake represented by a colorful C or a kicky K or a perfect P is fun.

But the letter I is SO BORING. Seriously. Most of the time it is just a straight line. Other times it is written in cursive to try and kick it up a notch, but it still fails miserably in being interesting. AND because of this, most stores fail to carry the letter I. The other day I was in my favorite store ever, Kohls, and they had some cute ornaments on sale. They were peppermint candy in the shape of letters. Nearly ever letter had 2 rows. I thought maybe one row of Js was supposed to be Is so I dug and dug. To no avail. They literally had every letter except for the letter I.

I can't say that I blame them though. It is a sad and depressing little letter.

Later that same day Brent and I were at Wal-Mart. We were in the checkout line and could see some monogrammed mugs lined up on a shelf. I pointed out to him that there was no letter I mug. He responded and said that one of them was turned around and that that one was probably an I. I got out of line, walked over to the mugs, and turned the backwards one around. An S. Go figure. Ss get all the glory.

I've had this conversation with my sister in law who married into the same I-trouble. She agrees that finding a good I is like finding the proverbial needle in the haystack. My friend, Micah, bought me an I from Anthropolgie when I got married. And it is actually cute [letters can be cute, trust me]. But it is orange and fuscia and how could that not be cute? I have searched high and low to find a low key version of this [because let's be honest, those colors don't go everywhere]...and nothing. nada. zip.

So next time you buy a letter for your wall, be glad your last name doesn't start with an I. Be glad that you have a letter that fills some space. Be glad that you have a letter that can be found in stores. Be glad that you have a letter that doesn't bore everyone to tears.

And if you ever happen to stumble across a funky and spirited I, please let this desperate home decorator know!!

*I try not to post my last name on the blog for security reasons.

Baby Bump: 19 weeks

dear baby,

you are moving and squirming so much this week! one night i asked your dad to put his hand on my belly because i knew for certain he'd be able to feel you… unfortunately you're just not strong enough for him to feel your little punches yet. next week?

we've thought a lot about names, and we're both a little shocked that we came to an agreement so early! so whether you're a boy or a girl [and we get to find out so soon…please cooperate for your first photo shoot next week, okay?], we have a great name lined up just for you and you alone. at least, we think it's a great name and we really hope you do too.

we've also been talking about your nursery some. geesh! there is just so much to think about, but i promise to have it all ready for your big debut. so stay in there until march, but know that i'll be ready…and will have lots of hugs and kisses for you too.

love, mom

***

We have our sonogram on THURSDAY. If everything goes well and the baby cooperates, we'll know the sex that day. When Brent proposed…and I promised I'll get to that part of OUR STORY soon…part of the evening included a gift. I opened the bag and pulled out two newborn outfits:

He then said, "I'm so glad that you'll be the mother of my children." Yeah…it's a really good story…bet you can't wait to hear the rest…but that is for another post entirely. Anyway, I pulled out these two outfits the other night and we both had a little moment when we realized one of our big dreams is coming to fruition. Five years later, we're very anxious to put our little bundle in one of these outfits. But which one will it be?! Five more days and then we will know! :-) I'll be sure to keep you all informed as well. [And interestingly enough, the vote has evened out to 50/50! If you haven't voted yet, your time is running out!]

it's what i do

When I got home from work today I had a few things to do online so I clicked over to facebook. Status after status, I read things like: "YAY! I don't have to go to work again for another 2 and 1/2 days!" or "FINALLY…the weekend."

Now, don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy my weekends-- the time to sleep in, relax, wear sweats, catch up on cleaning and tv shows and time with Brent. But I don't ever DREAD going back to work on Monday. Even though I still view getting out of bed in the morning as THE WORST THING EVER [I know, I know..."You're gonna have to get over that in about 4.5 months..."], once I'm up and moving, I really don't ever mind going to work. I love seeing my students and interacting with them daily. I just realized too that I haven't written about teaching in awhile, but I used to all the time [click here and read away to see that I'm telling the truth!]. Well, despite my lack of writing about, I still am thoroughly loving it.

We are currently getting ready to start reading To Kill a Mockingbird in LA II, which just happens to be my FAVORITE BOOK EVER! So I'm really looking forward to teaching it again.

And my LA III kids are writing short stories, and although that leaves me with hours to grade, they are always a treat when I get to see the creativity of my students.

Three and a half years ago I was exhausted and wondering if I could really pull off being a teacher. I was living in a city in which I still knew almost no one, teaching an entire section of students with LD "hits" in reading and writing, completely the worst teaching internship program every created [which required FIFTY out of classroom hours and like 10 observations which required three meetings PER observation…ugh…still makes me mad], still figuring out marriage, and living hours and hours from "home." Every day I woke up I had to convince myself that things would get better and that I just needed to keep plodding on. I would say to myself, Kels, you love what you do. Everything is going to click soon. Don't kill your students today. And then I would pray, Lord, give me extra patience to get through today.

I knew that the overwhelming "stuff" would come, which is why I wrote myself a letter a few weeks before that first year started. I have often returned to this letter when I need a little reminder:

Dear Kelsey,

I am writing this so that you remember what it is like to be passionate about your job. I am writing this so that you remember the rush you felt when you walked into your classroom for the very first time.

You will, unfortunately, be used and manipulated, and you will be tested by students who want to get a step ahead, but when they look back in 30 years they will remember most how you responded to their efforts. Remember your classes from college-- sitting around tables, brimming with excitement when you discovered a new teaching method that worked. Getting that report back after student teaching that said, "I feel like you've been at this for years."

Don't forget this is your dream. Don't forget the imaginary class you used to teach in your bedroom--wind whistling through your missing teeth as you read Dr. Seuss to stuffed animals.
Don't forget this is your gift. The Lord has blessed you with the abilities to control a classroom and hold students' attention; to bury these gifts would be a shame. Don't forget the notes you received from your Seniors when you finished student teaching, or the money your freshman raised for your move to Kentucky. Don't forget what it felt like to leave those students and know you had given them 100%.

You will get tired. You will get sick of the routine...but so will your students, and they are looking to you to see if you will break this time. Don't break. Let them know you need their support as much as they need yours. Let them know that you expect the world from them...and don't ever stop believing that they will give you anything less.

Don't forget the time everyone around you was confused about the direction they were headed; about what career they would land........and then remember that you've always known-- that "I am a teacher" comes as easily to you as your name.

When papers stack up to be graded, write each comment with compassion, like you always said you would. Your students will read your scribbled writing in purple, "Be sure to pick past/present tense and stick with it throughout-- it will make this beautiful story even stronger." And they will hear in those words, "Someone still is taking the time to believe in you."

Remember to wear comfortable shoes because you need to be actively moving about your classroom all day.

When at first they don't understand Shakespeare, stick with it and remember the note you received from jock Jake's mom that said he was coming home talking about Romeo and Juliet.

Remember your "mission statement" in college that you wrote saying you will "Teach students, not subjects." Remember your college's vision for "Teacher as a Servant,"---that you aren't doing your job completely unless your students feel as if they are being served. Remember that Jesus was a great teacher. Remember to learn from your students. They have so much to teach you-- don't become too proud and forget this.

Above all remember that you love what you do. And remember that nothing done in love is ever wasted.

Sincerely,
Kelsey

So today when I read what others were saying about their jobs I was reminded just how blessed I am to have a career that I love to do. I was reminded of this letter I wrote myself over 4 years ago. I was reminded of how far I've come. I was reminded, once again, that nothing done in love is ever wasted and that my students notice.

Have a great weekend! :-) [And the 19 week baby bump will be appearing on a blog near you soon]

Our Story: Part X

So sorry to have taken such a long pause in getting back to this story. We're finally to the good parts too! Hang in there with me…hope you're still reading :)

To read this story from the beginning, click HERE and scroll to the bottom. Enjoy!

Part X:

Progression

Prom season found its way to my school in the spring. The girls bustle with excitement, sharing hair styles and dress colors. Brent and I are still communicating, in some form, daily. Mainly I still hear from him through emails, on occasion on the phone, and at least once a week at bible study or when our friends get together. Honestly, not much as changed between us since February.

Two months have passed without so much as a hand being held. One hug has been shared. I am becoming increasingly aware of these voids in the growth of our “relationship.” After all, aren’t those things supposed to happen naturally when you start “seeing someone?” When someone knows you like them, aren’t you supposed to show, in some physical way, affirmation that you like them too? I’d been waiting for this relationship to develop for what felt like an eternity, and now that it was happening I felt like I was just allowed to smile more freely around Brent—but not express anything else through a physical touch. I knew he liked me, because there was the song, and the secret side glances, and the increasing number of questions he asked in order to know me more. But I can’t help but wonder if something is wrong that causes him to pause when he wants to reach for me hand? Have I crossed too deeply into the “friendship threshold” to make him cringe at the thought of ever hugging me—or ever leaning in for a kiss?

We are close, very close, there is no doubting that. We share secrets and intimate moments, but my goodness I want to hold his hand—to feel its warmth in mine and know we are connected in a way he has connected with few others. Am I asking too much of our 2 month relationship? I asked my friend Brandon, who was well-versed in women and relationships—if there was something I was doing wrong. His advice? “Put on the Beatles ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand’ the next time you’re in the car together.” Eye roll.

***

Spring was beginning to assert itself more openly on the trees around town, and Brent was coming over for supper. After eating we move to the front porch, our feet tucked under the railing and dangling into the evening air. As we chat, we subconsciously move closer and closer together. Eventually, amidst a conversation about future careers and college choices, our swinging feet become intertwined. As my left leg interlocks with his right, the conversation does not stop. I feel no tension enter the air. My pulse quickens slightly at the rare contact happening between us. The chill of Spring quickly seeps out of the woods around us, but I am determined to stay out here, legs linked, as long as my numbing body allows.

***

I slide into the pew next to Brent. Wednesday night youth group in St. Joe is one of my favorite times of the week. Not only do I get to have real worship with kids my age, but I get to see him. Sigh. The thought still makes my toes tingle.

As the youth pastor begins his announcements, Brent jots me a quick note on an old bulletin left in the pew from Sunday.

What do you want to do about this whole prom thing?

Is he seriously asking me to prom via a note, in the middle of youth group? Whatever. I’m too excited at the possibility of getting dressed up and dancing with him that I don’t care how lame it is.

I don’t care. What do you think? I scribble back, caring very deeply but still trying to play it cool in case he thinks it was the worst idea ever.

I mean, if you want to, we can go… I think its April 16^th.

I notice his wrong form of "its," affirming that my desire to pursue an English degree in the fall is the right one. And is he still testing me or does he really WANT to go? Okay…cool…sounds good to me. Mine is May 7^th.

Okay. :)

And with that, our “conversation” was over and I had a date to prom.

***

April 16^th came quickly. My pink, strapless tulle dress drapes my 18 year old frame. Brent pulls into the driveway and the cameras come out. He is wearing his dad’s old three piece suit as he hands me a corsage of daisies. He wraps his arm around my waist for a picture and I nearly shudder at the touch—I’m not used to feeling his body so near my own.

He holds the door open to his red Passat, the same car we shared our conversation in back in February, and as I grab the bottom of my dress and climb in I smile at him. He waves to my parents, still standing on the front porch with their cameras out, as he maneuvers around to the driver’s side. On the way out of town he nearly runs off the road. I grab the center console and he simply says, “Sorry, I just couldn’t stop looking at you.”

His school’s prom is held in the cafeteria. We enter the room and are immediately ushered over to the photographer. “Are you a couple or just here together?”

“A couple,” Brent answers without hesitation, answering not only the photographer’s question but mine as well.

“Okay, then I need you to stand behind her and put your arms here and…here…like so…perfect. Now you, lovely lady, if you could place your hands on his…perfect. Hold that.” I hope Brent doesn’t feel my heart pounding. He has his arms wrapped around my waist and is breathing on my neck—this is by far the closest I have ever been to this guy. FLASH! “Great, thanks. NEXT!” And just like that the moment has passed.

We sit down and we eat and laugh and then the music begins. I wrap my tan arms around his slender neck and we sway back and forth as the multi-colored lights dance on the white tile floor. Our conversation hops from topic to topic with the rhythm of the music, and when I divulge the secret that I’m not ticklish, he feels the need to check. He reaches for my armpits, and though I look dainty and lady-like, I know that he’ll find a large amount of sweat if he really reaches them. My reflexes are too slow and I grimace as he notices the perspiration. I’m finished. Totally finished. Why can’t I just “glisten” like a normal girl? Why do I have to sweat SO much?! He retracts his hand, and trying to save the moment I say something like, “I may not be ticklish but I sweat.”

I wait for what seems like minutes as he wipes his fingers inconspicuously on his suit jacket before he says, “It is kind of warm in here.” Unbelievable, he’s actually not going to send me packing right now!

The dance quickly withers like a rose in the heat of July, and so we gather our shoes and other belongings that are piled along the wall. Our friends ask if we’d like to join them for bowling, but we decide to pass—after all we only get so many moments together. After going back to his house, filling his parents in briefly on the hoopla of the dance, and changing into more comfortable clothes, we drive to a near by town with no specific plans on our mind; we don’t need plans, we have one another’s company. We stop at a gas station and tumble back into the car, and then…with no revelry or fanfare… he puts the car into drive and reaches over and grabs my hand.

I expect it to be like the time I held another boy’s hand in 8^th grade. We were at a super bowl party and our hands met, and we stayed like that, glued to the other, for the remainder of the game, afraid if we moved the other would let go. Two hours of sweaty palms and no movement is a strange thing. But here, in this car with Brent, it is the most natural thing to be holding his hand. I am not afraid to move, or even let go, because I know it will be there again. I caress his palm with my thumb as our conversation flows throughout the evening.

***

I find myself counting down the days until my school's prom—May 7^th seems to be dragging her pretty little feet. Eventually though, when I wake up, it's finally here.

This prom I'm going to hold nothing back. I know he is interested. We've held hands a couple times, and I look dang good in my black and white dress. This time he has rented a tux and borrowed his sister's black Tahoe. We are riding.in.style.

We decide, in order to save a little cash, to drive through Fazoli's and take our food to a park. We order, and I set my lemonade on the dashboard, bend over to fix my shoe strap, and Brent slams on the gas to get in the correct lane of traffic. My drink flies over…all over my beautiful dress. Normally, in this situation, I would freak out. But he's so apologetic and just so cute that I can't do anything but laugh. I scrounge around and find napkins to soak up the mess, and by the time we arrive at the park I'm feeling a little put back together.

Brent says grace and we dig in to our pasta meals. My stomach has been turning with excitement all morning, and I can barely calm it down enough now to eat. This NEVER happens to me. I glance across the picnic table at Brent and in my own silent prayer thank the Lord for this blessing. I notice Brent looking at something across the pond and follow his line of vision. A wedding! I hope beyond hope it is a sign, but then focus on trying to get some food in my stomach lest I scare this poor boy away.

We finally make it to the dance, no real signs that I'm wearing my lemonade, and begin to mingle with my friends. But as the night progresses, we continually find ourselves lost in conversation. He knows better than to try to tickle my armpits now, and as we slow dance on the gym floor it is as if we are the only ones in the room. I link my arms closer around his neck, and his hands link more to embrace me closer as we dance. The DJ switches to a new song and we continue to sway in the silent embrace listening to the lyrics, One word, that's all you said/ something in your voice caused me to turn my head. Your smile, just captured me, and you were in my future as far as I could see…You had me from hello…

"That's pretty much how it went," he whispers in my ear. I don't say anything, but feel the freedom to lay my head on his chest as he begins to sing in my ear.

Lord, if this night goes on forever I'd be okay with that, I pray as the song draws to a close.

***

We again forego an evening with friends and head back to my house. My mom has laid out all the necessary tools for making smores and my dad has stoked the fire, a real sign that this guy is growing on them too. We pull up our lawn chairs and in the glow of the fire I realize we are becoming more than just friends. I'm so overwhelmed by the situation and the evening and our inevitable futures apart that I become very quiet.

Noticing the change, he reaches over and grabs my knee. "You know, Kels, if I have to wait for you through four years of college I will."

baby bump- 18 weeks

dear baby,

i’m so glad you’re finally starting to show yourself. i know it has only been 18 weeks, but i’m already anxious to hold you in my arms. i have felt you fluttering away in there for a couple weeks now, and each time i feel like i get to know you a little bit more [kick again?...like now, please].

your dad and i are having a lot of fun dreaming about what our days will look like with you in them. even though he can’t feel your movements yet, he still rolls over in the morning and lays his hand on my belly to tell you “good morning.” [just so you know, we’re big fans of that guy].

we still are waiting to find out for another two weeks if you are a boy or a girl, and we’re very excited to hear the news. we plan on being immensely thrilled either way, just in case you’re worried.

for now, stay warm and cozy and keep growing and getting stronger. i will take good care of you [which means less coffee in the morning? eh? what do you think?]

i love you so much already!

love, mom

happenings

Torri was inducted into the National Honor Society a couple weeks ago. Way to go, Torri! We're proud of you…but you do have some pretty FABULOUS teachers ;-)

And Avree and Rylie FINALLY were able to come and spend the night and hang out. Despite some hiccups along the way [i.e. Rylie didn't bring one of Av's bags, we couldn't find PUMPKINS anywhere and I had my heart set on carving pumpkins…and we never got around to roasting our marshmellows etc] We had a really great time! I love these girls deeply and dearly,. For those of you that don't know, I babysat these two during the summers [and many nights in between] when they were much younger :) and we had some good times ].

Our masterpieces:

Rylie

Mine….get it?

Avree

And of course, Brent's. Rockchallk Jayhawk baby…it's basketball season now! :)

a "stats" post

cravings: I really haven't been craving too much. Early on I just needed to eat to keep my belly happy, so I munched a lot on crackers and such. There was aday [as in literally a 24 hour period] in which I consumed an entire box of triscuits...which wouldn't be too bad but I ate most of the box with cream cheese and the rest with melted cheddar cheese mixed with sour cream [but I've been doing that since high school...it's how I keep my hips healthy :)]. This trimester it's been all about the carbs so far...which again, isn't TOO abnormal for me, but I think I'm just hungrier and carbs seem to stick around longer.

weight gain: This is the only time in life it is okay to announce this on a blog, right? At my last appointment I had gained 6 lbs. I'm sure that is a up a bit more, but my doctor said I was right on track with weight gain.

comments: "Are you SURE you're pregnant?" [my students] "You're totally having twins!" [my softball girls] "Name the baby Respucha!" [A student] Tears. [My mom...just kidding] And my personal favorite happened just yesterday when I told my students the baby is now the size of a sweet potato (thank you, fruit ticker): One student responded "Will it be shaped like a sweet potato?" [To which I said, I sure hope not! but baby, I will love you even if you are) And the second response was, "Will it taste like a sweet potato?" [To which I said, Do you plan on eating my baby?]

fears: listerios. I think this is just because it the the "THING" doctors are honing in on right now...and because there have been outbreaks from cantelope and spinach this year! Yikes. I heat my meat religiously [to which a coworker of mine scoffed at. His wife just had a baby and he said she ate deli meat all the time and the only thing wrong with his baby is that her hair stands straight up! :)] I'm also a little nervous about getting sick this winter... I don't do sick well anyway, so on top of that to be pregnant and not allowed to take much medicine...yeah, don't want that. Other than that just the typical fears that this little nut will stay in my incubator long enough etc. But I also know that God is looking out for me...but that faith thing is a bit difficult at times, isn't it?! Oh and this may seem like an odd one...but I'm a little nervous about my water breaking while I'm in the middle of class-- I may need to prep my students for that one.

general mood: I really haven't been too hormonal at all. Early on when I was so tired I was a bit cranky at times [but that is pretty typical...sorry, Brent]. The only moment I can remember would be when B and I were eating at Fazzolis [when OLIVE GARDEN just couldn't fit in our budget :)] and he reached over and dipped his breadstick in my pasta sauce. I snapped-S.N.A.P.P.E.D.- at him saying, "If you wanted SAUCE to dip YOUR breadstick in, then YOU should have ORDERED pasta and NOT a sandwich..." He responded perfectly-- by laughing. I love that man. I couldn't help but laugh too. But like I said, other than that...not too bad. I cried before I was pregnant, so that still happens. But overall I would say this is a consistently happy time for us.

things i have been surprised by: how excited and interested my students have been--which shouldn't have surprised me, as I have truly awesome students. That THIS seemed to be a popular question people felt the need to ask, "Oh, was this planned?" Seriously? Maybe my mom can ask me that, but someone I barely know? Not necessary. And furthermore, I'm almost 26, have been married 3 and 1/2 years, own a home, have a steady job..."Was this planned?" Really? [It was... but I just think that is a weird, unnecessary question...so don't ask me that, okay?!] Off soap box now. Other surprises? That it has taken me so long to show. I thought since my stomach has always been super flat that it would be noticeable right away. Finally at 18 weeks I've got a little something to show for the work my body is doing :). I also wasn't expecting to feel the baby move this early, since most women told me they felt movements around 20 weeks. I have felt movement for a couple weeks now, and it's fairly noticeable now. I suppose that means this baby is a MOVER!!

things i'm most looking forward to: To fall head-over-heels in love with this baby. To watch Brent become a father. To watch my parents and in-laws love up on this child. To see who the baby looks like... And to find out the sex in 2 weeks!

what i think is really cool and crazy: That something from Brent and something from me came together and is now a human growing inside of me...that the human body is capable of this...at how big this shows that my God is-- I really can't wrap my head around any of it.

things i'm doing to prepare right now: For me it's important to process these small moments, so I'm writing and journaling a lot and hope to share that with the babe someday. We painted the room gray this summer, and will leave it that color for boy or girl...but I'm getting other nursery ideas and plan on diving in head first with that once we find out the sex. I also have thought about registering and such, and will probably do that within the next month. Right now though, we're enjoying the daily new stuff that is coming our way [and probably will for the next, oh 20 years!].

What about you? What's the big stuff [or little stuff] you remember from pregnancy?

The evening sky

Monday night I drove out to a gravel road with my husband and sat on the hood of our car and watched the stars. We could see the Milky Way and the Big Dipper and Orion's belt. We faintly saw the Northern Lights which were the whole reason we were going out there-- but instead, we saw so much more.

We saw our past: laying on the trampoline in Brent's backyard talking about our future and the fear of leaving for college and leaving each other. We saw us on another gravel road, with the same name as the one we now share. He had just asked me to share it with him forever, and then played songs on the car's stereo and we danced in the moonlight to "You Had Me From Hello" and "With You." He held me and those future fears were answered.

As we sat on the hood of that car Monday night we also remembered moments from our individual pasts: taking my aging, nearly blind grandma to that same gravel road so many years before and seeing the joy in her face over actually being able to see the stars, which were so bright for her that evening. We didn't know this would be her last time to see those twinkling lights above before her vision was completely taken from her. Brent recalled winning a Courtwarming basketball game in a packed gym with fans going crazy. He drove to an empty gravel road, parked his old Toyota, and lay on the hood, soaking up the crystal clear night, not wanting the feeling of that moment , that victory, those cheers, to pass him by.

**
Goosebumps creep up my legs, I feel our baby kick inside me, and we decide it's time to go. Brent piles back in the car and toots the horn while I'm still sitting on the hood. I jump in the air before climbing in the passenger's seat and playfully punching him in the arm.

We drive the mile back into town holding hands, our past, our future, and those stars.

chicken

Okay. I have a confession. I HATE---hate---cleaning chicken. I try to avoid it. Which leads me to another confession: I often use chicken from a can [eek!! The preservatives! Oiy! I can just hear you...I know, I know, it's TERRIBLE!]

But here is the deal: When I think about what to make for supper and I realize it involves getting some chicken from the freezer and thawing it and then cleaning it, I almost always second guess my decision. We end up eating a lot of beef and pork! The sad part of this whole mess is that I LOVE chicken.

I hate thawing it. Whether I leave it out in the sink, or move it to the fridge for the day or WHATEVER... the juices and the smell just do NOT sit well with me. And then there is the little pieces of white, rubbery fat dangling and clinging to its surfaces. It is so slippery that I can barely grab it and I'm so grossed out I typically end up cutting off way more chicken than is necessary just to get rid of the fat. And then there are the veins!!!! Oh the worst part if you ask me. I know most people leave these in because in chicken they are not that big of a deal as compared to calf liver [I heard on a cooking show calf liver veins are just the WORST!], but if I see one I have to cut them out and end up mutilating the poor guy.

And here is my other confession: I'm talking about SKINLESS, BONELESS CHICKEN BREAST! HA! Most of you probably don't even bother to really look these over and just throw them in the marinade or the casserole or the whatever. I can't do it. When it thaws and I see just one miniscule piece of that jiggling, white fat on there I have to take action. I have, at one time in my life, cleaned out an entire chicken. I had to call Brent's grandma and ask her exactly how to go about it, which end to start at, which bones to break first etc, but I did it! Once. I know some of my relatives and a lot of my friends grew up on farms where they hacked off the head, watched the chicken do the little dance with blood spurting [OH, so THAT's where the whole "like a chicken with its head cut off" comes from...now you know], and then proceeded to pluck feathers, THEN rip it apart and clean it out. The nice part about that process though is there is no thawing...well, unless you grew up on a farm in Northwest Iowa and then maybe the chickens running around were always partly frozen?

Anyway, last night as I "cleaned" the chicken I almost justified buying those neat little packs of precooked and pre-cut strips of chicken breast. If they weren't like $10 a pound I might. I do like the $5 rotisserie chicken at WalMart for this reason, though.

But...if I ever win the lottery you can be darn sure what I won't be doing any more. I will hire someone to clean and cook my chicken for me!

**And on a more serious note. Thank you to those of you that said prayers for Jaque. She came through surgery and is doing well. They did find some cancer in her lymph nodes and had to remove them, but they are fairly certain they have gotten all of the cancer. She will begin chemo in about 3 weeks.
** Also, the weather here has been UNBELIEVABLE! Brent and I were out all night-- he cleaning the garage and me the cars. I love a good clean car!
** Also I am nearly 18 weeks and I believe this may be my last week of regular pants, as they are a bit snug. More pictures soon. I'm also feeling the baby move a lot more, which is exciting. We have received 48 votes on our "GENDER VOTE" to the right... and it is evening out at 23 for girl and 25 for boy. We only have sixteen more days until we know!! :-)

Prayer

I rarely use this space to ask for prayer…unless I'm asking for prayer for Brent or myself. And maybe I should ask more often. Many of you that follow this blog of mine are people of prayer; you breathe praise to our Father all day long. And that is the reason that I'm going to share this with you, so that some of you may do what you do best tomorrow on this person's behalf.

Her name is Jaque. She was diagnosed with breast cancer about a month ago. She is 33.

Her and her husband [who happens to be my principal] have lived in our community for many years now, and their Light shines brightly…and this diagnosis has not stopped them in sharing their faith and hope with others. Rather, they have used this heartbreaking scenario as a mouthpiece for the Mighty God we serve. It has been a truly incredible thing to experience.

Tomorrow Jaque goes in for a mastectomy surgery, and will also be receiving the port for her chemo. She has asked for specific prayer for peace, for both her and her husband, but also prayer that her arm will not swell [as this sometimes happens to women who have this surgery and it is irreparable].

As I was driving this evening I heard the song "Strong Enough," by Matthew West. I immediately thought of Jaque, and "prayed" the song for her. Some of the lyrics include:

"You must think I'm strong/ to give me what I'm going through/ Well, forgive me if I'm wrong/but this looks like more than I can do/ on my own/ I know I'm not strong enough to be/ everything that I'm supposed to be/ I give up/ I'm not strong enough/ Hands of mercy won't you cover me/ Lord right now I'm asking you to be/ strong enough/ for both of us/ Cause I'm broken down to nothing/ But I'm still holding on to the one thing/ You are God/ and you are strong/ When I am weak/ I can do all things/ through Christ who gives me strength."

If you read this tomorrow and feel so led, please say a prayer for Jaque. Pray that she may feel the peace that surpasses all understanding, and that His hands of mercy cover her and make her strong enough.

Thanks.