tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20406975261304993712024-02-06T18:46:25.828-08:00Cupcakes to Coosmy sweet journey <strike>to mommyhood</strike> as mommyashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-74847370069557648302013-06-27T20:19:00.000-07:002013-06-27T20:19:59.142-07:00All Other Ground is Sinking Sand<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">all other ground is sinking sand"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- from the hymn "Solid Rock"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wish this was true every moment of the day, but it's not, like not at all. Like any human, I strive and I fail and shake my fist at God and then I hide from Him in shame and then I go to sleep, wake up and press repeat. And He graciously gives me the humility and the perspective over and over again to see that He's calling me to let all of this go and stand on the solid rock of Christ that He's provided. It's not about what I can and cannot do, it's all contingent on what Christ already did. And yet I get up day after day and I strive, fail, shake my fist... different day, same story. And He deals with me with new graces every single day. And I'm learning. I'm struggling and it hurts and oh my word I spend so much of my life just wishing this was not my lot to be refined by the means He uses because I don't like the way it feels to have my selfish nature pulled away bit by bit. But if I'm honest with myself and with Him, I'm learning and I'm thankful and maybe even joyful (what?! Is this what Paul meant when he said "Consider it pure joy when you face trials of many kinds"?). </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so now that I've established this Truth that I'm constantly fighting against - that Christ is the solid rock I must stand upon alone - let me delve into the equally important second half of this lyric. "All other ground is sinking sand". I cannot put into words how very true this sentence is or how much my life as a whole but especially lately has been a hauntingly accurate picture of it. Yes, hauntingly. Because sinking sand is serious business. We're not talking about a crack in the pavement that causes you to stumble and scrape your knee (which can be bandaged and will heal) or a pothole that causes a flat tire (that can be patched up or at worst replaced), we're talking about <i>sinking </i>sand. You don't get out of sinking sand alive. Everyone can conjure up an image of it, probably not from personal experience because it's not something we really deal with in our industrialized Western culture, but there's a scene from a movie you saw as a kid or maybe as an adult (fellow 80's kids, you're probably with me on thinking of the terribly sad scene from "The Never Ending Story" of the horse that dies in the sinking sand while the boy just screams and cries as his companion is sucked into the earth). So whatever this image is, you have it in your head now, right? Focus on it. Think of the person or animal that is trapped in the sinking sand. Think of how they got there. They stumbled upon it right? Or maybe someone warned them and they kept going, thinking that they'd be fine - after all, it doesn't look like it could kill them. But there they are, being basically eaten alive by the ground beneath them. Reason, which permits them to think that the ground will continue to hold them as they walk, has defied them. <i>This </i>is what it means to stand on anything other than the rock of Christ. It means death, because let's face it, you don't really get out of sinking sand. You die in it. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have I depressed you yet? I'm sorry. I'm feeling it a little bit myself with all of that imagery! But I'm getting to the hope part. I just have to make sure that I've made it clear how desperate our disposition is before I get to that part because it really makes it all come together and makes it all the more sweeter to see just what a solid rock we have in Christ. So now I'll share a little of my own life that paints this haunting picture of sinking sand and how Christ graciously pulls me out time and time again, restoring me to the rock of my salvation so that I don't just die in the sinking sand that I keep walking right into.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A little over 3 weeks ago, I gave birth to my second child, another baby girl. Nope, this isn't my birth story (though that is coming) but it does have a lot to do with my life surrounding the birth of my daughter. I'd be lying if I said that these 3 weeks have been full of joy. That doesn't mean that there haven't been many sweet moments and that she isn't a wonderful blessing because those things are true. But unlike the overly romanticized and sticky sweet picture of the beautiful (and thin) glowing blonde mother with her hair waving in the wind, wearing a flowy dress in a field of flowers, smiling at her newborn baby who is also returning the sentiment, I'm living in the <i>reality</i> of having a newborn baby and a toddler. This means that I need to lose 20 pounds, my boobs are constantly leaking milk, my eyes are frequently pouring out tears because of hormonal changes, I'm the most tired and the impatient I've ever been. I'm worried that my newborn baby is going to cry and I won't be able to soothe her like I couldn't with my first. I'm worried that she won't gain enough weight and that my body will fail to make enough milk to meet her needs. I'm afraid that my emotions will take over and I'll be depressed like I was for the first year of my firstborn's life. I am living so outside of the moment it's almost unbelievable. I want affirmation that she will be okay and thrive and that my toddler's brain won't rot because of all of the Netflix we're watching and she won't be irrevocably damaged by the lashes of my tongue that I have to ask her forgiveness for so many times a day. I just want to get <i>through </i>this part. I want to get to the sweet stuff because I'm afraid to just live in the moment and see that the sweet stuff is scattered throughout all of life. The reality is that I don't want the sweetness, I want the ease. I'm incredibly, disgustingly selfish. I want my body back, I want to be able to put that sweet little baby girl down for bed and drink a beer while I snuggle with my husband on the couch instead of falling asleep exhausted with a huge glass of water on my bedside table to chug and chug to keep my milk supply up for my newborn who needs to nurse so very many hours of my day right now. I want to fit into those jeans that I bought that looked oh so good on me right before I found out I was pregnant. But none of this is my reality right now. And I'm shaking my fist at God. Then I'm finding myself hiding in shame because I'm supposed to just absolutely <i>love</i> this. This is what I was created for - to love and nurture my children. And I don't hate it, not by a long shot, but I struggle to love it. And I've asked myself why a million times and there are lots of explanations I can come up with that play a role, like my experience with colic, low weight gain, failing to be able to breastfeed, and postpartum depression with my first child, the lack of godly mothers in my family, my analytical brain that picks everything apart far too much, my background of anxiety and depression, but the real answer is simple. And it's true for me and for you, even if you don't share my feelings on motherhood. The answer is sin. I'm a sinner. I'm constantly kicking Christ off the throne and exalting myself. And I must look ridiculous to Him, even more ridiculous than my toddler mustering up all her pride to yell at me "give that to me, mommy!" as she sees me holding my iPhone (a coveted item in my house). I look at her and think WTF? You're 2 years old and you're <i>telling </i>me to give you something that doesn't even belong to you? If you're a mom, you've had these thoughts too when your kid just outright defies your authority like that. On one hand, you're gut reaction is anger (which in my best moments I can control) but on the other hand, you look at this tiny person who feels like you were just yesterday swaddling and nursing to sleep and think "you're ridiculous!". But isn't this what we sound like when we defy God's authority by not trusting Him and even being angry with Him for what we think He's holding out on us? Yep, but like 100 fold. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Goodness, we are fickle creatures. We stand on the rock and slide right off into the sinking sand. And like my toddler, we're smirking while we do it. And there He stands, <i>every single time</i>, with His righteous hand outstretched to pull us out of the pit we willingly stepped in, knowing full well the pain it's causing Him to watch His beloved child walk out of His loving protection. He doesn't glare at us, guilt us into submission, or bring up all the reasons what we're doing is so inconvenient and hurtful to Him. He just loves us. He disciplines us and let's us feel the consequences of our sin so that we can be made more like Christ and less like the selfish, bratty humans that our flesh confines us to.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">See, all those things I said God doesn't do to us, that's what I do to my kids. In my heart and even to their faces. And even just today. I see my toddler's defiant behavior and I have no tolerance for it. I feel hurt by her behavior and I lash out at her. I even threw a cup across the kitchen after she stuck her hand in it for what felt like the millionth time I had told her not to and she then proceeded to smirk at me and giggle when I reminded her not to do it. It made sense in my sinful mind - she'd see my authority as I raised my voice and showed physical aggression with the cup (after all, I didn't raise my hand at her). But I was immediately convicted that this was not the way to handle that situation at all. I asked her forgiveness and you know what? I yelled at her again probably 10 minutes later. My heart was way out of wack today (and many other days). All of this was going on while I was wearing my 3 week old, who was asleep on my chest in the baby carrier. My toddler knew I was limited in what I could do in response to her behavior because I needed to take care of the baby and that made me even more angry. But what I failed to realize in the moment was that she was acting out because she is struggling with the adjustment to having a new baby in the house just like I am. The object of our defiant behavior is really the same too. It's God. She's under my authority because I'm under God's so we're both acting out at Him. Shaking our fists at Him. Saying we don't want to deal with this lot He's given us. And we're butting heads because we're not believing the gospel, which not only unites us to God but to each other. And this is just in the 3 hours that I was alone at home with both of my girls for the first time since the baby was born. I'm thinking there is no way that this can be my life from here on out. I'm completely discouraged and just downright angry with God in this moment. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And suddenly my house feels like it's built on sinking sand and we're all just slowly falling into the earth underneath us.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But then I sense Him reaching His hand out to me as I'm sinking down. All is not lost. I can get out of this sinking sand and back onto solid rock. So I'm reminded of the gospel, of the Father's great love for His children, of the Redeemer's love for the flock, and I'm struck by my unwillingness to love my children in a way that mirrors how Christ loves me. And yet I can love them this way, hard as it may be in the moment when my flesh is fighting hard for it's way, because He's given and continues to give me the grace to do it. So up on the rock I climb. I can see no other way out than to stand upon the rock of Christ alone. Everything else I try, <i>everything </i>else, leads me straight into overwhelming despair. And yet even being fully aware of this, I will continually spend my days smirking and stepping off of the rock and walking straight into that sinking sand, often waiting until I've almost completely drowned before I grab onto His hand to pull me out. Even as I write this I battle my fleshly desire to be angry with God, unsatisfied at His will for my life not meeting my expectations, for seemingly making everything difficult and stacking the cards against me in the sin department (generational sin is a real and messy thing). But as long as I'm fighting those thoughts, I'm standing on the solid rock of Christ and the sinking sand can't kill me. </span></div>
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ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-64129174424521315142012-08-17T11:19:00.000-07:002012-08-17T11:19:12.946-07:00Rest<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Ps-62-6" id="en-NASB-14834" style="position: relative;">He only is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 0.65em;"><sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-14834A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></sup></span>my rock and my salvation,</span></span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-62-6" style="position: relative;">My stronghold; I shall not be shaken.</span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-62-7" id="en-NASB-14835" style="position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; line-height: normal; position: absolute; vertical-align: top;"> </sup>On God my <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-14835B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)"></sup>salvation and my glory <b>rest</b>;</span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-62-7" style="position: relative;">The rock of my strength, my <sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-14835C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)"></sup>refuge is in God.</span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-62-8" id="en-NASB-14836" style="position: relative;">Trust in Him at all times, O people;</span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-62-8" style="position: relative;"><sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-14836E" title="See cross-reference E">E</a>)"></sup>Pour out your heart before Him;</span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-62-8" style="position: relative;">God is a refuge for us. </span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-62-8" style="position: relative;"><i>- </i>Psalm 62:6-8</span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-62-8" style="position: relative;">Strange as it may seem, I find myself envying my dog from time to time. All in all, I prefer my life over his, but there is something about the way he spends his days that I've found I long for. And it's the way he rests. </span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-62-8" style="position: relative;">Anyone who has a pet knows what I mean, or maybe you're thinking about this for the first time, either way it's not a unique phenomenon. Dogs and cats spend a lot of their day sleeping, and in the midst of all kinds of circumstances. In my house, a screaming toddler, music, a frantic mother, clanging dirty dishes and running tap water do not keep him from his rest. And I'm talking about rest, not just sleep. </span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-62-8" style="position: relative;">In a non-intellectualized way, I think of sleep as a necessity and rest as an action. You can burn yourself out and eventually sleep really without choice because inevitably your body will shut down by design to protect you. You NEED sleep. But rest is something that comes by discipline for us humans, at least. It is a submission in a way, a voluntary giving up of the constant to-do's and a giving in to a protective state that is very much needed but equally skirted away from. Webster isn't defining these two words and I am taking some liberty with the way I am defining them here so bear that in mind. </span></div>
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Looking at the scripture above, I am struck at the language used by the psalmist. "On God my salvation and glory rest, the rock of my strength, my refuge is in God... God is a refuge for us". Do you feel pressure to be still yet? If not, read it again. Rest, rock, refuge (used twice) - what do these words have in common? Stillness, peace, a laying down, a giving up of action for something that feels written into our very innermost being - to be still before God and to give in to Him.</div>
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I confess right now that resting is so very hard for me. I'm painfully aware of my sin and my position of need for Christ's redemption. And yet I still feel the need to grovel in my sin. To be made low and stay low, looking away from Him in shame. This is an ongoing struggle in my life I've come to accept is part of my sanctification. Depression has been, is and probably always will be woven throughout my story here on earth. And all of it, though sovereignly allowed to touch me by His merciful, just and loving hand, comes from a heart that is wild and restless. I long to submit myself fully to Him, to lay down my groveling, my dark despondency over my lack of worthiness, my pride and insatiable desire for more of me, more of this broken world but I struggle to let it all go. A friend reminded me to embrace being in that place, the place of feeling crushed and made low because God is drawing me in through it. I so very clearly see my need for Him in the midst of this restlessness and my heart longs more for the rest he provides, he promises. And she was right. God surely speaks to us in the most pronounced way as we walk through the dark restless parts of this life. He reminds of us His rest and we are brought low to give in to that rest, to lay it all down and just give in to Him. Like a wife to her husband, we must give ourselves as Christ's bride to our perfect lover. </div>
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I still sit here, typing out words with shaky hands that flow from a body and soul that are anxious from lack of true rest. Just writing out the Truth or reading it doesn't take away the pain of being a broken human being. But He can and He does. And as an act of painfully submitting the sins I love, this wild heart that bucks to be freed right back into slavery, I trust that His love is the refuge I need. It's not my fretting or my groveling or certainly my bucking that saved me, but His perfect grace of which I am undeserving. In that position, where else can I go? To see His love is to run into it, not looking back and to give yourself entirely over to the One who calls you to be still in Him. </div>
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ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-89704849379839451702012-06-07T14:46:00.003-07:002012-06-07T14:56:48.073-07:00for what it's worth: the struggle of the selfThis blog has become somewhat of a joke despite my slightly less than best intentions for it. This is the first post I've actually typed out since September of last year, but it's one of many that has been narrated in my mind. The truth is, I have a lot to say, and it's mostly not about running a family on a budget or the day to day ups and downs of being a stay at home mom to a one year old, though these are very relevant and interesting things to write about. It's thoughts that I have while I'm doing those things that get lost in the shuffle. Thoughts that run deeply through me, that my one year old daughter and schnauzer (who are the only ones here as the words tumble through my brain) cannot and should not understand. So they get labeled, dog eared if you will, in the aspiring hope that one day I will make it my mission to sit down and let the dishes and the dust pile up a bit so that I can put these thoughts down concretely and share them with fellow adults who might find them useful or at least interesting.<br />
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So now that I've gone into too much detail just vaguely describing what I'm about to write about, here it goes.<br />
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Self is a strange notion. It all at once defines us and yet doesn't at all. And I've been thinking about this a lot lately as I've had my eyes opened to some of my idols, which just for the record is an amazingly hard but wonderful thing to experience. As a child we are told under unwise council that we can do anything we set our minds to, that all we need is self confidence. And for a moment, maybe longer, we feel like this is true and our sense of self is heightened. The illusive idea of self confidence feels attainable and no one can shake it. But then reality, also known as life or growing up, happens and we feel jaded by this utter nonsense. It isn't fitting for everyone to be anything. No one comes into the world with a talent for any and everything, nor should they. The plan of the Creator is quite different than this and it never leaves a depleted feeling as the lie of the self does. One's confidence, or better yet their worth, cannot be found in the self, which cannot even be distinctly defined. It has to be found in something larger, something more cohesive and just downright more important than themselves.<br />
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And so begins the journey to find the self for many. The disillusionment of the self confidence lie creates a hunger for something bigger, something that will shed light on who we are. But the lie is really just perpetuated again. Finding the self is just a rephrased adult version "you can be anything!". The self once again seeks the self and returns void. Who you are ends up being either a reaction or a reproduction of the circumstances in which you "found yourself".<br />
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Here is where your worth lies. What you do with this notion of self has a direct link to what you place your worth in. Despite our best efforts to stay comfortably numb to it, we truly do all have a void in our lives. And the worldly fix is to fill it up with whatever feels good, whatever inflates the self. Fill yourself with more self. But when are you filled by this method? You can't be. It is a self defeating concept that is thought through very little but acted on with great enthusiasm. And filling the void with yourself can look like many different things. Money, sex, relationships, comfort, good looks, education, children, entertainment, even ministry... I could go on. The point is that it doesn't always look glaringly bad to us by our flawed perception. We are all quick to see the wrong in living our lives for drugs or promiscuous sex, but anything that points us towards more and more of US is wrong. And it's wrong because we weren't created for it. The void is there and it can literally never be filled by any of these things, even the good things, because they cannot bear that load.<br />
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The remedy lies in this truth -the self need not be found, but lost. As Jesus says in Matthew 10, "Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it". Our desires to find ourselves, no matter what they are, cannot complete us as we need to be completed. We must see that the seeking of the self will eventually leave us empty, when the thrills of the their temporal promises of happiness are past. But here is where the beautiful story of the gospel of Christ fits perfectly into the struggle of the self. A Redemptive God steps in as a man with His own struggle of self and defeats the power of the lie for our sake. Without Christ we don't want life, we just want self and more self. Because life is found at the cross, where the sinful self was redeemed and reconciled to God and life is being confident in Christ.<br />
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<br />ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-72595241908539943312011-09-24T21:29:00.000-07:002011-09-24T21:29:15.285-07:00To See God: Simplicity Lived OutSimplicity. The word rolls off the tongue beautifully and leaves a sense of calm, a glimmer of sanity in a world gone mad with overly indulgent options. I've been craving it lately, a simple life. Unsure of what it even looks like I feel myself drawn to it, needing to live without so many of the "things" that take up space in my life. But why? Why do I need to clear the space? Him. I need to see Him. I need to see more and more of Him. Because once I began to see Him, I needed less of the "things" and more of God. The vision of His glory is what our eyes were fashioned for. <div><br />
</div><div>So my conviction to live more simply began a few weeks back. I'm not even sure what I would consider the catalyst, if there even was just one, but I know it began as I started to devour the Word. Yes, devour. I've never been one to find great joy in sitting down with my Bible. In fact, I admit that I have struggled to not view it as another "to-do" on my daily accruing lists. But something changed. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Perhaps I do remember what started it after all. One morning while Zoey was taking her morning nap, I sat down at the breakfast table with Bible, journal and J.C. Ryle's "Expository Thoughts on John" in hand and found myself lacking after reading my John scripture reading and commentary for the day. I felt I needed something more, to see Him more. So I flipped to Psalms, my "go to", and came right to this verse, words dancing off the page: "My soul faints with longing for your salvation, but my hope is in your word" (Psalm 119:81). The instant my eyes flashed across "my hope is in your word" my heart was heavy. There it was - my problem, staring me in the face. My hope wasn't in his word. I didn't esteem his word enough. My life was too wound up in the here and now, the wants, always the wants. How did I miss this? But grace. The heaviness is lifted, I hear His voice. Gentle, soothing, so soothing. All I need to do is ask and it will be added to me. I need this. I want this. No more of my near-sighted, world-loving perspective. I asked to long, to faint with longing, to hope in His word, to live and breathe these fourteen words. I asked. I received. Oh, did I receive. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Reading His word became less of a "to do" and more of a beloved time with my Father, Creator and Savior. As I read His word, He reveals more of Himself to me. I see Him. I don't know that I ever really saw Him before. But now I long to see Him. I asked to long and he gave me the longing. He wants us to long to see Him, to know Him, to love Him. And he equips us with all that we need to accomplish this. My heart, rebellious and hardened to Him by it's very nature, has become softened, filled with an urgent need to be connected to the Vine and a humbling yet joyful realization that I am the branch that dies apart from it. It's the seeing of God that has changed me. I wanted to long and He allowed me to see who He was, to feel it in the depths of my soul. Once you see Him, you can't help but long to see Him more. And He is so gracious, so loving to show us more.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But the longing for his word, for the revealed God, had to take the place of longing for anything else in my life. His grace reminds me of my present state - sinner in a sin-ridden world. Yes, I'm saved by grace, being made more like Christ each day and living in the promise of eternity worshipping God in a sinless, perfected pre-fall Eden state, but in the present, I'm a sinner in a world wrought with sin. So what is it in my life that has become a misplaced longing? The list begins. Spotless home, financial ease, perfect mother, perfect wife, productivity, better body, better everything. I lay it down. Sin. I pick it up again. Grace. I lay it back down. Everyday, I lay it back down. These things are not worthy of my longing. So I ask to long for Him, not them. And He begins to show me how.</div><div><br />
</div><div>When your view is obstructed, you must remove whatever is obstructing it to get see what you're looking at more clearly. In looking upon God, our view becomes obstructed by the world. The daily list of needs and wants, the past lack of them and the future worry about them. Whatever it is capturing our thoughts that are taking Him out of the focus have to be shed, moved out of the way in order for Him to come into focus. So He began to show me what those things were in my life. He still is. I'm well assured He still will be when I draw my last breath. Things like convenience, comfort, control. He's shedding them, little by little. Less of them, more of Him. Seeing God is simplicity lived out.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Living simply for me means getting rid of the unnecessaries. If I don't wear it, use it, or eat it I get rid of it. I buy only what I need, use as much fresh, unprocessed foods as possible and use the talents God has given me to make whatever I can for my family, including cleaning products. This is my personal conviction and I certainly don't think it applies to everyone. God shows himself to each of us through unique means. But the common denominator is simplicity. It's the shedding, stripping sometimes radical ripping of the worldly wants that keep us from what our eyes were created to view - Him.</div><div><br />
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</div>ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-2454045577175625132011-08-30T18:13:00.000-07:002011-08-30T18:13:03.594-07:00Back to BakingSince the birth of this little one...<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJ06mOtqdl5oRUgZ8KL4s4DpVZDNYHD9vYPChs61rSpZygMdue-t-y8gtXYNkmlOfT7nNkWMM944GrRIyCi3gQLtTA-TnT0KwYvT83lgSUPNHDN_WOK3BR7Wfhb66V7zRcDNhQnDmgkk/s1600/boppysmile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJ06mOtqdl5oRUgZ8KL4s4DpVZDNYHD9vYPChs61rSpZygMdue-t-y8gtXYNkmlOfT7nNkWMM944GrRIyCi3gQLtTA-TnT0KwYvT83lgSUPNHDN_WOK3BR7Wfhb66V7zRcDNhQnDmgkk/s1600/boppysmile.jpg" /></a> (too cute, right?)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">...I haven't baked much. A dozen chocolate chip cookies here, some brownies there. But nothing serious and by that I mean no cupcakes. As Zoey has just left the newborn stage and entered into the wonderful world of semi-regular naps, I decided recently it was time to reconnect with an old friend, my lovely stand mixer, and whip up a batch of my favorites - mocha cupcakes (mmm!). I enjoyed every minute of making them (eh, except the clean up maybe), sharing them and of course eating them! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A few days later, I got a request from my good friend Brooke to make cupcakes for her son's 4th birthday. I was more than happy to bake again and especially for sweet Noah, who judging from this picture Brooke sent me, seems to be a satisfied customer!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had a lot of fun making them. It further reaffirmed my love of cupcakes and my need to get back to baking. It just feels so natural, as though when I'm doing it time passes quickly but each second is enjoyed with the rhythmic intensity of focused, passionate work. It's as though that's my little place in the world - in my little kitchen, mixing, baking and frosting cupcakes. God gave me a love for it and a talent to do it so I will not squander that. I look forward to seeing how He will use it in my life to build His kingdom. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">To sum it up, the cupcake lady is back!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-52280518885406600932011-08-23T18:12:00.000-07:002011-08-23T18:28:35.942-07:00The First Three MonthsI'm going to be completely honest. If I have learned anything these past few months as a new mother, it's that you cannot deny the truth because it only leads you away from Christ and loved ones and that's a dangerous place to be. I know because that's where I was for the first three months of Zoey's life.<br />
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Let me start out by saying that Zoey is 4 months old and I'm IN LOVE with her. She's beautiful. Everything about her is perfect to me. She is God's creation and couldn't be more breathtaking. But as much as it breaks my heart to admit, I didn't feel this way about her all along.<br />
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The moment Zoey was born was a strange one. I was dizzy. My nurse had given me a pain medicine before the epidural because I was almost fully dilated and in a good deal of pain. The pain medicine made the room spin, which I was told was normal, but I didn't like it. The whole experience of delivery was bizarre. Once she was out and I heard her cry, I was waiting for that moment I had heard about where you feel overwhelmed with joy. I had romanticized it in my head, imagining rays of light around us as I held her for the first time with a huge smile on my face. My reaction was different. Her cry made me cry but it didn't feel like joy. It felt like fear. As they handed her to me for the first time I was terrified to hold her, but I grew more comfortable as time passed. I just kept feeling like something wasn't right but I couldn't put my finger on it. I loved her and she was precious, but I felt like a train wreck. Of course I felt sick since I unknowingly had a bladder infection and was in a great deal of pain from childbirth on top of my whirling hormones so I figured it was all normal. In retrospect, I was wrong.<br />
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The first week home was intense. When she cried, I cried. And she cried a lot. I spent most of my days and nights nursing her in great pain, which also brought me to tears. Like every new mom, I was sleep deprived which makes everything harder, but I loved her and I wanted to enjoy her so badly, but I just didn't. She didn't feel like my baby. I didn't understand her. She just wailed at me and wailed at me and I felt totally helpless. I hoped it was just baby blues and kept telling myself it would get better soon.<br />
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The weeks following got a little easier. I started to get the hang of it a little bit more but loneliness was really starting to set in. I struggled to nurse her as she would pull off and flail and scream at almost every feeding which made me miserable, but I kept going because I told myself it would get better. But it never did. I began to resent her with each feeding. I felt myself losing my patience as she would pull off and scream. I wanted to run out the door. I wanted to disappear. No one was there to help. Just me and this beautiful child that didn't even feel like mine that was screaming for me to do something for her but I didn't know what it was. I continued nursing despite this, partly out of guilt and partly because I really wanted to. It got a little better but I never stopped feeling anxious about it. I tried to bury the anxiety but that never works. It comes back tenfold later on when you do. I was <b>depressed</b>. I questioned why I had ever decided to have children. How could I be so stupid? What did I expect? Is this going to be the rest of my life?<br />
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When Zoey was 8 weeks old, I went to see a friend who had told me she had <b>post-partum depression </b>with her first child. As I told her everything I had been feeling, she looked at me with such understanding and empathy. She had been there and she assured me I was not crazy but that I had PPD and it was totally common. I felt relieved. I started medication and got off of it quickly because things with Zoey started getting easier and I was feeling happier. But the thing about happiness is that its situational. Around 11 weeks, Zoey's fussiness peaked. She stopped napping during the day and started nursing poorly again. It didn't take long before I started sliding downhill again. I denied it for a little while, telling myself I just had to figure out how to get her nursing and sleeping better and I'd be okay. But I couldn't deny it forever. When Randall would come home I would just shut down. I didn't know how to talk about it. I just felt scared and alone. I was still <b>depressed</b>. I loved Zoey so much but I just didn't feel bonded to her like I knew I should. It felt like there was a wall I was putting up that I couldn't take down by myself and I hated it.<br />
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I started taking the medicine again. But I knew that wasn't going to fix me. I needed God and I had been running head on in the opposite direction. I was ashamed. I knew what a godly mother looked like and it wasn't me. I didn't want Him to see me in my sin. I wanted to avoid Him. But He wasn't going to let go of me and once I hit the wall, I fell to my knees. I needed Him so badly. I needed the rest and peace that only He gives. I needed patience because I was impatient. I needed selflessness because I was so selfish. I needed gentleness because I was quick to anger. I needed grace because I was a sinner.<br />
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He reminded me that Zoey was His child. He knew the struggles we would face with each other and yet created me to be her mother and her my child. The whole thing seemed crazy but I knew in my heart it wasn't because God ordained it and everything He does is perfect. I found comfort in knowing that despite all of my weakness in being a mother, my utter failure at it, He was there. He picked me up and began putting the pieces back together. I began relying on Him because it was so evident to me that I couldn't do this on my own. There was no doubt about that. But with Him, I could.<br />
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Today she is happy and healthy. God answered our prayers for wisdom and provided us with what we needed to take care of Zoey. She wasn't gaining enough weight nursing so we switched her to formula, which actually greatly helped me with my <b>depression</b> because it had been such an emotional struggle. She takes 3-4 naps a day, rarely cries and sleeps through the night. It is such a blessing to see her thriving after she had been miserable for so long.<br />
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I'm so thankful to be able to say that today I am in love with my child. I cannot imagine life without her. There are still tough days and I'm sure there always will be, but they don't consume me anymore. I wake up each morning relying on my Creator and Savior. I lay down my selfish desire to do it all by myself (because I know where that got me) and rest in the assurance that He will equip me with what I need to take care of the sweet child He gave me.<br />
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ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-60129606303974628472011-08-23T17:12:00.000-07:002011-08-23T17:12:55.218-07:00And Then There Were Three!So it has been quite awhile since I posted on here but cut me some slack, I've had my hands full with this little one -<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Ow1SFz_r4xGTx9ItQk2SZ8eDV4q3GjrhEmNGyWQwPyAjQWll3LlzJWaG-WiyyHeEGimkNp5D5wNwsk3QTbgqXNn9aqjpH1R819eKejePVAszNxCRI2yEpBE9xFfjtRDps8t3tM0nhyU/s1600/zoeyafterbirth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Ow1SFz_r4xGTx9ItQk2SZ8eDV4q3GjrhEmNGyWQwPyAjQWll3LlzJWaG-WiyyHeEGimkNp5D5wNwsk3QTbgqXNn9aqjpH1R819eKejePVAszNxCRI2yEpBE9xFfjtRDps8t3tM0nhyU/s320/zoeyafterbirth.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Times, serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 24px;"><b><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yes, the long anticipated birth of Zoey Jordan Rhodes took place on April 21, 2011.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">::PAUSE::And here it comes - the birth story. I know, I know. But you don't have to read it! It won't hurt my feelings, really! This is more for me and for grown-up Zoey to have a written account of the event than anything else. Plus, I want to encourage other mommas-to-be out there who are going through this for the first time because I certainly needed (well, still do) all the encouragement I could (can!) get.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The morning of April 21 started early but it couldn't have been early enough for me. I wanted that baby OUT! Weeks of false labor, sleepless nights, backaches, seriuosly swollen ankles, and tons of anxiety made those last few weeks feel like they would never end. And I mean NEVER! Zoey decided to not come early, despite my pleading with her or on time so we scheduled an induction for the day after her due date because she was measuring big and I wanted to avoid a C-section. So at 4am on April 21, after a sleepless night of false labor, I arrived at Jackson Hospital with Randall and my dear friend Lindsay to get poked, proded, and hooked up to some machines to finally meet that sweet face I'd be longing to see for almost a year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm not good with hospitals and that's a generous description. So the thought of inducing was really scary to me - knowing I'm going in to be laid on a bed and hooked up to monitors and IVs - ahh! But it turns out it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. The nurses were really sweet and my labor was fast. And I mean fast. I hold to the theory that she was going to make her debut that day anyway because once she started coming, she didn't hit the brakes! I barely got an epidural! Barely - but I did - and am so thankful! I was induced around 6am and she was born at 10:17! Yep - a little over 4 hours. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm guessing I am one of those women whose contractions are TOO terribly bad. That's not to say that it didn't hurt, but I didn't realize I was almost 9 cm by the time I got the epidural! I was in pain, yes, but it wasn't unbearable. The anesthesiologist was behind schedule, I was progressing quicker than the nurses thought that I would so it is by God's grace I got the epidural and it took as quick as it did. It's a blur to me now but I was told it was maybe 20 minutes from the time I got the epidural to when I delivered her. I pushed for 5 minutes and there she was - the most beautiful blood-covered crying baby I could imagine. It's true - there really is nothing in the world like hearing your baby cry for the first time. It's just amazing to think those lungs were forming inside of you all of those months just waiting for that moment to be put to use (and good use for Zoey - she can really make some noise!). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As I held her for the first time, I was overwhelmed that she was mine. I couldn't wait to take her home. And after 3 days in the hospital, we did! We came home Saturday afternoon late, ate dinner, and tried to figure out how to get her to sleep and how to get any sleep ourselves (uhh yeah right!). Around 1am, I woke up screaming in agony. My body felt like I was rolling in shards of glass and I was freezing. I took Tylenol and was able to go back to sleep. I figured I just felt bad - my body was still exhausted from it's task. Then it happened again. Of course both times I woke up Zoey (or made her cry if she was awake and not crying already). Poor Randall - he was trying desperately to help us both! The second time I took my temp and I had a fever but it didn't seem too high but because I was nursing her and worried I might be sick and get her sick, I called the OB on call at Jackson and told him my symptoms. He was really unhelpful and actually rude to me and told me that it sounded like I had a cold even though I wasn't having any respiratory symptoms. I said I thought I may have a UTI but I wasn't sure because well, you know, that area of your body has been through a lot so maybe it was something else causing the pain. He told me to drink water, continue nursing her, take Tylenol and if the fever came back to go to the ER. I thought I was fine. The fever stayed away for most of the day until about 3pm hit and it came back HARD this time. I was nursing her and all of the sudden the shards of glass feeling came back and I was shaking I was so cold. My mother-in-law was there to help out that day and I asked her to bring me a blanket but it didn't help at all. I really felt like I was going to die. My brain felt foggy (which was from my 102 fever) and my body ached so much all I could do was scream in pain. On top of that, my milk was coming in that day and Zoey and I had a long way to go before we really figured out breastfeeding so there was another source of pain! I knew I had to finish feeding her but I was so upset that I made her upset and she wouldn't finish. I was begging to be taken to the ER. So with my house slippers on, blanket wrapped around me and baby in tow, Randall and my MIL took me to the ER. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A thousand things ran through my mind but the biggest was the serious question I was asking myself - was I going to die? I thought it was probably far fetched but I know the things that can happen after you deliver a baby and with my symptoms I knew I could be facing something serious. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The triage nurse took my temp (102), asked me about my symptoms and ran an EKG on me. I could barely keep my balance I felt so sick. As she picked up the phone to get me a room, I could see the worry on her face and I heard it in her voice as she described my symptoms to the nurse and told her I was 3 days post-partum. She wheeled me back into a room that read "trauma room" by the door. Inside were 3 or 4 nurses and a doctor waiting to ask me a thousand questions and poke and prod me. It looked like a scene from "ER". Randall was terrified. I was terrified. The nurses were unprofessionally whispering that I was either hemorrhaging or having an aneurism. After hours of lying on that uncomfortable stretcher hooked to an IV and strapped to monitors, the prognosis was made - severe bladder infection. They gave me an IV of antibiotics, lots of IV fluids, and sent me home with an antibiotic prescription. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm thankful it was something treatable. I'm thankful it wasn't an aneurism or hemorrhage as the nurses were conspiring. I'm thankful I was able to go home and be a mother to my beautiful baby girl. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So there it is. The beginning of the story of Zoey. But just the beginning. There's more to be told as I write this 2 days after she turned 4 months old. A lot more has happened since that day but it is certainly one that I will never forget.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-10870302501126937192011-04-16T08:40:00.000-07:002011-04-16T08:45:35.303-07:00Waiting, Waiting and WaitingI have done a poor job of keeping this blog up throughout my pregnancy. I had every intention of updating regularly but for one reason or another, I just didn't make the time. And now here I am with 4 days left until my due date. I guess this is as good a time as ever to make a post, right?<br />
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Today I am 39 weeks and 3 days pregnant and though that means there are 4 days left until I hit the benchmark 40 week due date, those 4 days seem like a lifetime away. I'm playing the waiting game and I have been for almost 3 weeks now. Since 37 weeks, I have been 2 cm dilated and have really felt my body preparing for labor - braxton hicks contractions (some accompanied by cramping), sore joints, swelling (i actually <i>miss</i> my feet), and pelvic pressure among other pains that are more awkward to mention. So I'm ready for this! I'm ready for my feet to return to me, my digestive system to work again, to be able to sleep without sore ribs and hips (note: i didn't say i was looking forward to "sleep" - i realize i won't be getting much of it!), to bend over without totally losing my breath and balance, to get off the couch without needing the assistance of a forklift... but mostly, to meet my daughter.<br />
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I've been carrying this sweet child for 9 months in my womb. To think that over those months she started out as a spot on my ovary, then a tiny heartbeat, then a tiny baby with arms and legs and now she is a fully grown newborn with a personality of her own and lungs that are ready to release their first cry and take their first breath as she enters the world is truly amazing. I imagine that moment throughout the day, when she will take her first breath and cry her first cry and I'll hear her for the very first time. I simply cannot wait. I've heard over and over again that this is the most joyous moment in your life and I know that it will be even though I haven't experienced it yet. I can feel her now, moving around in what little room she has left inside my womb, but I can't see her, touch her or hear her. I am so thankful that day is coming soon when I will be able to!<br />
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So for now I will continue to wait, for what other option do I have? It does seem brutally long and painful as I wait for her to be in my arms, but I'm reminded that this is the way God created the event to be and I must trust in His unfailing love and perfect plan. No doubt He is teaching me patience and humility and I am a stubborn pupil, fighting back hard with my own will. But the closer I get, the more I must rely on Him for strength, comfort and patience.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i></span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> I have summoned you by name; you are mine.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i></span></div></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">When you pass through the waters,</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i></span></div></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> I will be with you;</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i></span></div></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> and when you pass through the rivers,</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i></span></div></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> they will not sweep over you.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i></span></div></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">When you walk through the fire,</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i></span></div></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> you will not be burned;</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i></span></div></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> the flames will not set you ablaze.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i></span></div></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">For I am the LORD your God,</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i></span></div></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> the Holy One of Israel, your Savior"</span></i></div></div></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>Isaiah 43:1-3</b></div></div>ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-31925806250547214042011-02-22T12:56:00.000-08:002011-02-22T12:56:18.767-08:00Go ZoZo!So I had my 4D "redo" today. Let me back up. Two weeks ago, I had my 4D ultrasound. We couldn't get very good pictures of Zoey because she was breeched - still breeched rather! Head up, butt down, feet in front of her face. The girl is going to be an acrobat! Well, our ultrasound tech is awesome so she had me come back today at 31 weeks 6 days to do another 4D in hopes that she may have turned head down. And she did!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMi8jQkwh0-77sbYtmkYMQQGblEq76rlxo2jXpc06PCWCEnyIKSniZemwdMh6DcOfRp88RHi2IjEAXmzrD8vdsOED9nkbFWCaAFMERSuzgpueQihl70MjSmpcEnJ7hdx_gUT_e-SQc2i8/s1600/gozozo%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMi8jQkwh0-77sbYtmkYMQQGblEq76rlxo2jXpc06PCWCEnyIKSniZemwdMh6DcOfRp88RHi2IjEAXmzrD8vdsOED9nkbFWCaAFMERSuzgpueQihl70MjSmpcEnJ7hdx_gUT_e-SQc2i8/s320/gozozo%2521.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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I have spent the last two weeks prepping myself for the reality that she may not turn, but praying that she would. My doctor said it was 50/50 so I had no reason to suspect that she wouldn't, but I didn't want to be totally unprepared for the reality that she may not which would result in a C-section, something that has terrified me this whole time. God is so sweet. I have really had peace about the delivery, accepted that however it happened was (and still is) out of my control and in His, which is marvelously settling to my fears. Who could I want in control more than Him?<br />
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So here I am, 8 weeks or so away from meeting my daughter and I must say I cannot wait! Not only because I feel like I swallowed a whole watermelon, my feet look like potatoes or that almost everything gives me heartburn, but because I am so blessed to be a mommy and I cannot wait to meet this sweet daughter God has graciously given to Randall and I. It's been a journey and it still is and it will continue to be... and I'm excited for that.ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-34563525692835347772011-01-01T16:45:00.000-08:002011-01-01T16:45:14.689-08:00When Cravings SuckToday is New Years Day. Honestly, it's just another day. I celebrated the beginning of a new year at midnight with friends quite honestly because I'll find any excuse for a party and I kind of like New Years Eve. It's a surreal moment when you see the clock strike 12 and you realize you'll never write the 4 digit number that stands for those 365 days again, except when you're referencing the past.<br />
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But once midnight strikes, the thrill is gone. New Years Day doesn't mean a whole lot to me. My husband doesn't get the day off from work and I hate black eyed peas. It's just another day.<br />
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Normally I am glad for businesses to close on a holiday. It's good for the employees to get a break and celebrate with friends and family. But this year, I'm pregnant. I've gone most of the past 5 months without a lot of cravings and aversions, but of course they decide to kick in on one of the only days of the year that every place I want to order food from is closed. And I mean every place. Three massive let downs in a row. I went from craving something, having to give up that craving to scrounging up two other places that sounded pretty good to me only to find out they were both closed. To make it worse, the last place even lied! Their website had their business hours for New Years Day as being open until 8:00 and they weren't open all day!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXLEVURjuZd6G8_oSGVw7T01z0Ihr7HfJQygMbU9Z7IKi58zQ2W6QDgpvKdD3TRZhX0VMcEoXaPgToOy6-sDldprL3KQdEHbUIigiTFuMAihU24kLapPlu_-vL9eZzg5iLA_ipGmSL96M/s1600/cartoon21.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXLEVURjuZd6G8_oSGVw7T01z0Ihr7HfJQygMbU9Z7IKi58zQ2W6QDgpvKdD3TRZhX0VMcEoXaPgToOy6-sDldprL3KQdEHbUIigiTFuMAihU24kLapPlu_-vL9eZzg5iLA_ipGmSL96M/s400/cartoon21.png" width="325" /></a></div>So here I sit, too aware of how much cravings can really suck. I know it's mind over matter, but that's a bitter pill to swallow when my body and mind feel like they're being entirely run by a pregnancy hormone. Oh the joys of growing a life inside of you, right? <br />
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Since I know this situation will probably come up again over the next 4 months, then let me ask you something. Moms and friends of moms, bring on the advice. What kind of cravings have you gotten that were hard if not impossible to fulfill because of immediate circumstances? How did you deal?ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-70162058717561588882010-12-24T10:06:00.000-08:002010-12-24T10:07:46.751-08:00The Gift of a Fellow SaintA wise and godly woman once said, "the greatest miracle you will ever see is a life transformed by the gospel". This truth resonated with my soul, as I have longed to see so many people in my life saved by the grace that has transformed my own life. It's been about a year since I've heard that quote and many years of praying for unbelieving friends and family.<br />
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This Christmas, I have seen that miracle in the life of someone I love dearly - my brother.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf1DvaH66KyCpJJqeM1Uj96fqosm7UP3Fj-xfTkYI1NRqs8DUziggRQyT8qZEvb0VS2bkWI3jrg48fQ_XgCrC-MKde23QhwoetVf2JYnx2cEHMBGiuTsBsfJ_ojykl4qeUptpcSPdojNM/s1600/toddashley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf1DvaH66KyCpJJqeM1Uj96fqosm7UP3Fj-xfTkYI1NRqs8DUziggRQyT8qZEvb0VS2bkWI3jrg48fQ_XgCrC-MKde23QhwoetVf2JYnx2cEHMBGiuTsBsfJ_ojykl4qeUptpcSPdojNM/s200/toddashley.jpg" width="147" /></a>My brother, Todd and I didn't grow up in the same house. He is 17 years older than me and though we share the same mother, we don't share the same father. Despite these circumstances, Todd has always been my brother, not my "half-brother" and I've always loved him like we had grown up together. But there's more to the story. Todd had been a slave to addiction since he was 12 years old until the time he was 41. To be specific, until around the exact time he turned 41 which was not quite 2 months ago. Most of my life he has spent behind jail and prison bars, in court-ordered rehab facilities, or high or drunk. I've seen him bottom out and I've seen him want to change his life and then bottom out again.<br />
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But over the past year, I began to see something different in him and I began to pray more that what I was seeing was God's hand in his life, drawing Todd to himself in His own timing. Around October of 2009, we had a lengthy conversation in which I shared the gospel with him for the first time and told him my own testimony of the gospel. As we spoke, I knew it was God giving me the words to speak to him. His eyes longed to hear the Truth, to believe that he could stop living in addiction and be a new creation. But on that day, his heart was not ready to receive it. God had more plans for him, but I have no doubt He was working in his heart even then, a year before he would receive grace.<br />
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After that day, God gave me more of a desire to pray for his salvation. I prayed God would break his heart of stone and show him his sin and that he would repent and be cleansed and have joy in knowing his Creator and Savior, just as He had done for me. God began to show me the hope of what could be - a beautiful testimony of a life so full of sin yet so calloused to it gone and a new creation in Christ in it's place. It became my heart's desire and though Satan tried his best to make me believe this was a foolish hope, God reminded me each time that He hears and blesses my prayers and that no one is beyond His grace.<br />
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In August of this year, Randall and I received an invitation from our friends, the Millers, to a dinner benefitting a ministry called His Steps. As I was reading the email invite, I began to see that this ministry was created for men struggling with addiction and immediately thought of Todd. Randall and I both felt like this could be the place where Todd would receive the gospel so we wanted to find out more at the dinner. Before the dinner had even begun, I looked across the large banquet hall and saw my cousin Brian, who is a solid believer that loves Todd and has fought addiction in his own life. When I finally made my way over to talk to him, I found out that he had been in communication with Tim, the founder of His Steps, and that he was scheduling a time for the family to sit down with Todd, have Tim tell him what the ministry was about, and have us ask him to go there. It seemed surreal. A few days before I had been pondering the idea of talking with the family about Todd going to His Steps and here I was finding out it was already in the works. I was nervous but excited at the possibility and overjoyed to see Brian loving Todd with the love of Christ. My heart was encouraged.<br />
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A few days later, this family meeting took place, but it almost never happened. It was my task to get Todd to the meeting and I was unwilling to do this under false pretenses. I had told Todd the day before that Brian and I were going to take him to breakfast and talk about his plans and jobs. Todd had recently been released from jail and looking for some direction. I felt convicted that I couldn't lie to him so the morning I picked him up, I sat down and told him that the whole family was going to be there and we all wanted to help him figure out a plan to help him stay on track. I didn't tell him about Tim and His Steps because I thought he might automatically shut down and think of it as rehab, so I left it at that. He was really flustered at the idea of having the whole family there and didn't understand the point of it. I could see millions of things running through his mind as I told him about the meeting. I told him I thought it would be good for him and I hoped he would come with me, but it was up to him. I simply asked that he tell me yes or no and that if he didn't want to go that I would leave. After probably 20 minutes of internal debate, he got up from the table and said "let's go".<br />
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The meeting took place and just like the previous October, I saw a desire in his eyes to believe what was being told to him and this time by so many more people who loved him. He didn't decide to go to His Steps that day or the next day and in fact he bottomed out again over the next couple of months. But this time when he hit the bottom, God opened his heart to see his brokenness. Desperate for freedom with tear-filled eyes, he called our Aunt Donna and asked to come to her house. She let him right in and told him to get some rest. The next day Todd expressed his desire for a new start and decided to go to His Steps. He has been there since early November.<br />
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Sometime over the course of the short time he has been at His Steps, God has truly created a new heart in him. He is learning God's word and praying for more enlightenment. Yesterday was one of the best days of my life because I spent all afternoon listening to his account of God's work in his life. This man who had once alienated himself from the family during Christmas due to shame was sitting at my kitchen table enjoying fellowship with us. We serve a mighty God.<br />
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This Christmas, I have received the best gift of all, the gift of seeing my brother become more than just a blood relative. This year he is a fellow saint of Christ.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL';"> "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> The old has gone, the new is here!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation... </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">God made him who had no sin to be sin</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." 2 Corinthians 5: 17-19; 21</span></span>ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-26398914699031083532010-11-06T21:43:00.000-07:002010-11-06T21:58:12.602-07:00A Woman's Work...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrsMivyO16GiXywbxmM6ldjQbiXeSjnx1RfBZVn2qRhQuZya4uCW-BeLS1EkREf0WSYAbTd4Cl9faCUwHE6D0ue-eETAAn9qKYOLFcDm3eEv4dJFHzuU0PKpr2tLq_dDCY64F5xtTJ_no/s1600/vintage_housewife_cook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrsMivyO16GiXywbxmM6ldjQbiXeSjnx1RfBZVn2qRhQuZya4uCW-BeLS1EkREf0WSYAbTd4Cl9faCUwHE6D0ue-eETAAn9qKYOLFcDm3eEv4dJFHzuU0PKpr2tLq_dDCY64F5xtTJ_no/s200/vintage_housewife_cook.jpg" width="175" /></a></div>Times have changed since our grandparents were raising our parents. My mom grew up in the 50's and 60's in a middle class family. My grandfather earned a salary as an accountant and my grandmother stayed at home to raise my mom and aunt. That was the norm for most families then and it was accepted and even expected by society. This is definitely not the norm anymore and the idea of motherhood as a profession is very often frowned upon by society today.<br />
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Thank you <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">very much</span>, feminists. (Topic for another post perhaps?)<br />
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Before my husband, Randall, and I got married over 2 years ago, we agreed that once we started having children, I would stay at home to raise them, at least until they were school age (if we didn't decide to home school). Now that we are expecting our first child, this is becoming a reality. Actually it became a reality earlier than we had originally expected. I decided to quit my 30 hour per week job of baking cupcakes at just 8 weeks into my pregnancy, when the infamous "morning sickness" monster started rearing it's ugly head. I absolutely <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">love </span>baking cupcakes (and eating them!) so it was not easy to stop making money to do what I love, but as most of you have probably read in my precious entries, that first trimester was no walk in the park. So, to sum it up, baking and all-day nausea didn't mix. I wasn't making a lot of money and my husband was up for a promotion within the month so it seemed to be a sensible decision for me to go ahead and quit.<br />
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Then came the 2nd trimester. Ah, relief. My energy began to return and the nausea vanished. Hallelujah! But wait, I felt okay again but now I was bringing in no income. Hmm...<br />
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Being at home has left me with <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">plenty </span>to do, but I still feel the squeeze of not bringing in any income. I know the desire of my heart is foremost to be a mother and God has provided the means for that, for which I am very thankful. But while my husband is able to provide for our family, right now we could use some extra income. Working with one income after having two for so long has been a challenge and has had us questioning where we need to cut back. While I really am fine with living without some things - eating out more than once a month, cable television, etc. - the hardest part for me has been feeling like I'm not doing enough when I could be bringing in money that we could be saving up for the baby.<br />
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So I've been perusing my options for how to bring in some income during these next 5 months and even beyond. I applied for a freelance writing job that would allow me to work at my own pace and write only as many articles as I want to. I have no idea if I will get hired but I do plan on applying for a few of those and hope that maybe one will work out. Here's some other ideas:<br />
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- Selling CDs, DVDs and other stuff on Amazon or eBay - not a steady form of income, but hey it's income, right?<br />
- Selling my cupcakes from home - this is a bit more tricky and would pretty much have to be by word of mouth because of health code regulations, but it's something I want to do. Randall and I still have a dream of owning our own bakery and coffee shop business one day so this would be a great way to build up at least a small client base too.<br />
- Sewing and selling aprons - This one is the most out of reach right now because while I have recently purchased a sewing machine, I still haven't learned how to use it! Regardless, I have a love for vintage aprons and want to make them, especially by repurposing old fabrics.<br />
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Ladies and moms - I want to know what you think. What are your experiences with managing a family with one income (specifically less than 30,000 per year)? What are some creative ways you've heard or or have used to bring in extra income as a mom?ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-15942239596388126612010-11-05T13:06:00.000-07:002010-11-05T13:52:17.750-07:00Did You Say CLOTH Diapers?Diapers. We've all worn them (and may again with the rising life expectancy) and when we have children of our own, we will all change them and buy them. It's a messy business for sure and an expensive one too, as any parent can attest. Disposable diapers on average cost around $850 per year or $70 per month. For me, that's a jarring number considering my plan to be a thrifty stay-at-home mom. So, I've been considering the alternative - cloth diapers. Yes, I said <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">cloth</span> diapers.<br />
<br />
Relax, I'm not speaking of the daunting piece of white cloth that you somehow wrap around a baby's butt and fasten with safety pins. Those are more or less a thing of the past. Today, cloth diapers come with features like snaps, velcro, and some even come with a one-size-fits-all feature that grows with your baby. The upfront cost is higher, as the premium cloth diapers cost around $17 per diaper thus around $400 for 2 dozen, which should be all you will need for the entirety of your child's diapered days. Now that sounds like a better number than $850 to me!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfR6qdHQs0I8VQiS2XH-AONqOZ8nALu6XyT4C3y4Y2qudstiS5EMhNgJt6PxN5U8jyDoJsFjfsYbpyffF8iR_oFYdNQyGlF_JPBH6EyG6Jh2XWZOJoRuKebS1gcAnF-KkvTTzALTDHhUQ/s1600/bumgeniussprayer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfR6qdHQs0I8VQiS2XH-AONqOZ8nALu6XyT4C3y4Y2qudstiS5EMhNgJt6PxN5U8jyDoJsFjfsYbpyffF8iR_oFYdNQyGlF_JPBH6EyG6Jh2XWZOJoRuKebS1gcAnF-KkvTTzALTDHhUQ/s200/bumgeniussprayer.jpg" width="200" /></a>But there is an obviously messy fact to consider - cloth diapers must be washed. This is probably a determining factor for many because let's face it, the thought of cleaning off seemingly endless poop, diaper after diaper, day after day is not a pleasant one. I'll be the first to admit that the ease of throwing a dirty diaper in the trash sounds delightful in comparison! However, I have found that while cleaning a cloth diaper is always a messy job, my research suggests that it's not as scary as my pre-conceived notions about it are. Diaper bins similar to the ones that are used for disposables are available, which not only hold dirty diapers until washing time, but can also mask the smell of them. What I've found to be the most intriguing invention that aids in cloth diaper clean up is the bumGenius brand diaper sprayer. It attaches to your toilet fairly easily, can be stored on the wall, and allows you to spray poop off of the diaper and directly into the toilet before washing. And speaking of washing, while there is always the option of using a diaper service, this almost entirely defeats the economical side of cloth diapering. Diaper services can run you almost as much as it costs to use disposables every month, so I'm scratching that idea. I have a washer and dryer and am certainly no stranger to using them so I would wash them myself, which on average runs you about $15-$20 per month.<br />
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There are other pros and cons to the diaper debate that I am not even delving into. Health and safety and environmental friendliness are among the biggest. While these topics do hold some weight in my diapering decision, I chose to stick with the cost side of cloth diapers as it holds the most weight for me personally.<br />
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With 6 months left to go before I must make the ultimate diaper decision, I will continue to read and listen to personal experiences and opinions from both sides of the debate, including from you - my readers! Did you or would you choose cloth or disposable and why?ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-90366875359856509982010-11-03T07:50:00.000-07:002010-11-03T07:50:10.571-07:00Caffeine - To Drink or Not To DrinkWow it has been far too long since I have made a post. My plan is to change that and post at least 2 times per week if not more. Here's a quick recap on what's happened since the last time I posted - heard the baby's heartbeat twice, entered the "honeymoon" 2nd trimester and said farewell to nagging nausea, vomiting, food aversions and extreme fatigue, and have begun to grow a "baby bump". Looking forward to finding out the sex of the baby in a few short weeks - November 24th!<br />
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It's an exciting time for sure, but the further I get into my pregnancy, the more I seem to read and hear about things to avoid. I don't want to be an overly stressed mom-to-be that barely lives those 9 months for fear of doing something wrong but I obviously don't want to be the polar extreme of that. So where is the middle ground? What do you do away with completely and what do you allow yourself to have in moderation?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBR3o3Np5y2eiWYrJzina8buta-EgHCkzxfJu-pjADBfREZgUwehMNjCyVWmw2y8NPhfyMLZ7FYyWcGfUnTBhGYybBkwXJTP__0gF0t-oM1VodKR2OHGEL9AQGMTFXckNptPn9F3Oe_ak/s1600/vintagecoffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBR3o3Np5y2eiWYrJzina8buta-EgHCkzxfJu-pjADBfREZgUwehMNjCyVWmw2y8NPhfyMLZ7FYyWcGfUnTBhGYybBkwXJTP__0gF0t-oM1VodKR2OHGEL9AQGMTFXckNptPn9F3Oe_ak/s200/vintagecoffee.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
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Today I'm specifically asking this question about caffeine. Pre-pregnancy, I woke up to drink that marvelous cup of piping hot joe every morning. Since about 5 weeks into my 1st trimester, I stopped drinking coffee entirely. I didn't want to risk it but even more so, the "morning" sickness made the smell I had once loved turn my stomach sour. But lately, my craving has returned. The brisk cool air, fall colors and promise of Christmas along with my new sick-free days have made brewing and drinking that morning cup of goodness a soothing way to start my day. I confess that even as I type this, I am drinking a cup - mind you, it is 3/4 decaf and is a small cup. But I am plagued with the conflicting information that's out there on how much is okay. I'm tempted to think that even my small cup of almost entirely decaf coffee could be damaging to my baby, but my gut conviction is that this is ridiculous. Everything in moderation... right?<br />
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So ladies, mothers, pregnant mommas-to-be, I want to hear what you think and why. What are your experiences or maybe you know someone who has dealt with this issue even if you haven't yourself. I want to hear your thoughts.<br />
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**I should mention, I do enjoy a glass of sweet tea a few times per week, but I always make sure that I only have it on days when I have not had any coffee.ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-82934982300110157072010-09-17T14:04:00.000-07:002010-09-17T14:04:30.084-07:00Turning 24: the Year of MommyhoodAs it goes, my birthday is tomorrow. I will be 24 years old. It's sort of hard to believe I'm so young yet so old at the same time. High school doesn't seem like a totally distant memory yet I can't even imagine reliving those days over again. I was a different person altogether and I don't think I'm alone in that.<br />
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We change a lot after high school, even though we think we won't. Then college comes along and we really think we're grown up once that diploma is in our hands. Truth is, we're always works in progress. I know, it's cliched and I say it but do I really think that and yes I really do. I'm human and thus prideful so most days I live like I've mostly got it all together, but I know I'm wrong. All I have to do is look back at my life over the past few years. I had a bit of a different circumstance from many since Randall and I got married before our last year of college. It was a challenge for sure - I balanced work with school before we got married but adding on a marriage - whew! Time constraints made it hard for us to spend needed time together. We enjoyed our first year, but it was certainly the hardest yet. This doesn't mean the second was a breeze. We faced new and different challenges - with college over, what would we do for work? move or stay here? when will we start trying to have children - woah am i even ready for kids?! - but we got through those big questions with some pain and some joy along the way. To top it all off, we entered year three of our marriage with Randall having a new job that he loves that pays a salary (a much anticipated event), purchased our first home and began a kitchen remodel, I began working at a job that wasn't as demanding of my time and energy that I enjoyed, got a puppy (bigger thing to take on than it seems unless you've done it!), became part of an amazing church plant in downtown Montgomery, and last but not at all least - we found out that we're having our first child. Just looking at this list makes me slightly overwhelmed! The point in me going through all of this is that looking back, at each point in the past few years God provided us what we needed in order to deal with what we were facing. Had any of the events that happened over the past few months happened 2 years ago, I really believe it would have been much much harder. But God is good, he gives us what we can handle and more importantly, what he wants us to handle. It's really a sweet and humbling realization. I don't have it all together - not a bit! But He does - and I can rest in that.<br />
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Year 24 isn't just another year. It will be unique - full of new trials and triumphs and full of growth. It is particularly exciting because this year is the real beginning of a new journey God has put me on - the journey to being a mom. And in a little over 6 months, I'll be holding a new person in my arms, a person God himself knit together in my womb. Then the real journey begins - for me and for that precious child. Because one day that child will be turning 1, 2, 3... then before I know it he or she will be turning 24 just like I will tomorrow. And when that day comes, I can still rest in knowing that God will provide the means to handle whatever comes into his or her life, just as He has, is, and will for me.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Psalm 139: 1-14</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">O Lord, you have searched me<br />
and you know me.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> You know when I sit and when I rise;<br />
you perceive my thoughts from afar.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> You discern my going out and my lying down;<br />
you are familiar with all my ways.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; font-weight: bold;"> </span> Before a word is on my tongue<br />
you know it completely, O LORD.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> You hem me in—behind and before;<br />
you have laid your hand upon me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,<br />
too lofty for me to attain.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> Where can I go from your Spirit?<br />
Where can I flee from your presence?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> If I go up to the heavens, you are there;<br />
if I make my bed in the depths, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> you are there.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> If I rise on the wings of the dawn,<br />
if I settle on the far side of the sea,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> even there your hand will guide me,<br />
your right hand will hold me fast.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me<br />
and the light become night around me,"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; font-weight: bold;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">even the darkness will not be dark to you;<br />
the night will shine like the day,<br />
for darkness is as light to you.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> For you created my inmost being;<br />
you knit me together in my mother's womb.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;<br />
your works are wonderful,<br />
I know that full well.</span>ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-74519196456353365862010-09-02T19:57:00.000-07:002010-09-03T14:35:18.517-07:00what a displeasure to meet you, "morning" sicknessI think it's safe to say that this week has seen a crazy amount of changes. "Morning" sickness and I have been officially acquainted as of Saturday and we've been seeing a lot of each other. Too much really. Who in the world coined it "morning" sickness? Mine is really all-day sickness, which is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">not at all</span> what "morning" sickness implies. I hate that term so much. It's 2010. Statistics show that I am definitely not in the minority experiences nausea all day long instead of just in the morning so let's just <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">stop</span> calling it that. I really needed to get that off of my chest!<br />
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::<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Steps off soapbox</span>::<br />
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My last entry was all about responsibility. I made the decision to work through September and then cut my hours back and continue to work through Christmas. Nausea definitely changed that plan. I guess it was wishful thinking that made me think that the manageable queasiness and fatigue I was experiencing last week was the extent of my "morning" sickness (cringes at the term). But who really knows what to expect? I figured out this week that nausea brings aversions to food - really all food - including baked goods. Yes, that's right, my stomach can't stomach cupcakes. There's no way I was going to try to bake cupcakes everyday with the way I've been feeling. Needless to say, I quit working for the duration of my 1st trimester. Thankfully, God has provided me with a Christian employer who was very understanding about my short notice resignation and is even willing to allow me to come back to work a couple of days per week if and when I start feeling better. So I now begin the journey of being at home and trying my best to figure out ways to feel better and be productive during this all-day sickness (there, I called it by it's formal new name!).<br />
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I've already decided this will not be my favorite part of the pregnancy, but I don't want to be totally miserable throughout it either. There are a few upsides to being sick (hard to believe, but just hear me out...). First and foremost, it means the baby is healthy and growing. A wise mom told me recently that the activity going on in my body to grow the baby is equivalent to running a marathon. No wonder I'm so tired! Being sick is also teaching me to be extra conscious about what I put in my body - making sure I'm eating despite the nausea and trying to eat things that aren't totally empty calories. I guess you could say I'm becoming more in tuned to my body to figure out what it needs in order to grow this sweet baby. On the opposite note, it does give me the clearance to eat whatever I can keep down, which is sometimes things that I wouldn't normally eat because they aren't the most nutritious. This really hasn't been too much of a perk to me yet because even when I have cravings, I don't enjoy the food I'm eating. I'm just forcing myself to eat so I don't get sicker. Well, maybe that perk will come later. A pregnant girl can dream, right?<br />
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So this new all-day sickness is sticking around for awhile so I better find ways to cope. I've been trying the classic saltine crackers, which I am <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">already</span> sick of, and ginger ale after meals. It does provide some relief but it's nominal most of the time. I was craving Subway sandwiches and eating <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">at least </span>a 6 inch once a day this week but I don't want those anymore after I threw one up today! I managed to cook a bland chicken tetrazzini with the help of my sweet husband a few nights ago but I definitely couldn't even stand the smell of it today. I had pad thai tonight as it seemed appealing in my mind. I've kept it down, but it feels like it's sitting in my chest. What's with that? Just digest for crying out loud! What's stopping you? It's a mystery what I will eat from one day to the next, which has made it near impossible to grocery shop and plan meals. I've always had a home-cooked meal on the table almost every night of the week for the entirety of our marriage, even when we were working students our first year! The food planner and budgeter in me is struggling with not being able to stock and prepare foods for the week but I'm telling myself it's just a few months of unpreparedness!<br />
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So this week I've met "morning" sickness, become roommates with it, and formally changed it's name. I wonder what next week has in store...ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-82145408227128629012010-08-24T20:20:00.000-07:002010-08-24T20:20:21.333-07:00Being Responsible... What Does it REALLY Mean?Last week was a whirlwind. I was trying to wrap my head around being pregnant which is very exciting but pretty scary too. I also had to deal with the stress of the doctor visit - the certainty of facing of some of my fears (needles... eek!) and the uncertainty of the outcome of the tests (is my baby okay?). WHEW!<br />
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With that said, this week has been a good deal calmer. I feel much more able to sort through things without feeling completely overwhelmed by my emotions. The main thing I've been sorting through is my responsibility in the here and now - before the birth and during my carrying of him or her. There are the obvious responsibilities I have to the baby - to take care of my body by getting plenty of rest, eating well, taking my prenatal vitamins, and abstaining from teratogens. But beyond that, what are my responsibilities to my family?<br />
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My husband and I got married a little over 2 years ago during the summer before our senior year of college. Needless to say, it was a crazy 1st year. Both of us worked full-time and were full-time students so we didn't get a lot of time together. But my role as helper was clear - by necessity I worked outside of the home to bring in income. The 2nd year was less busy as we graduated from college, but my role as helper remained the same - to work in order to bring in income. Now upon entering our 3rd year of marriage, God has provided us with a salaried job for my husband and a baby on the way. My role is in transition and I have to admit I'm very excited about that. It has been the desire of my heart for a long time to be a homemaker and mom. On the other hand, I'm struggling to see myself in the same level of a helping role not working outside of the home. Money will inevitably be tighter so I feel compelled to work for awhile during my pregnancy for the income it provides, but it's also a stretch to expect the same amount of work out of myself due to early pregnancy symptoms. Plus, I want to have time to adjust to being a homemaker and getting used to the new budget - you know, clipping coupons and cutting corners to save money - before the baby comes. So I think my husband and I have reached some middle ground. I will continue to work my same schedule through the end of September and then, if my boss is able to work it out, I will continue to work 2 days per week through the end of December (the baby comes in April so that will give me a few months to just be at home).<br />
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So, I'm between roles now. Income earner and full-time homemaker and mom. It's an exciting time and a bit stressful too, but the important thing is that I trust God with my tomorrow. Being the sinner that I am, my tendency is to cling to worry and really just create a stressful situation that is outside of my hands. My part is to be responsible - to my husband, my baby and most importantly, to God. And being responsible to God is being faithful to him - trusting that He will fulfill his promises as He always does.<br />
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And that's my two cents on responsibility.<br />
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Ashleyashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2040697526130499371.post-18586878890356135222010-08-20T20:35:00.000-07:002010-08-20T20:35:53.628-07:00The Journey Begins...This week has been a whirlwind of emotions (in part due to my ever-fluctuating hormones!). I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that we're going to have a baby - that life is forming inside my womb! God has been so gracious to me by giving me peace and perseverance through it all and I'm ever so thankful!<br />
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One week ago today, I took an at-home pregnancy test and found out that my suspicion/hope of pregnancy was a reality! Strangely enough, I was almost positive that I was pregnant about 2 days after conception. I just had this feeling and a peace about it. We hadn't been really trying to get pregnant, but we did want children so it certainly was exciting to think that it was time for us to be parents!<br />
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This Wednesday was my first prenatal appointment. I am beyond squeamish about going to the doctor and this was the doctor visit of ALL doctor visits! Ultrasound, full pelvic exam, blood work, finger prick sugar level test... needless to say, I was nervous about going! God gave me so much peace, though. For the first time, I was going through all these procedures for my baby, not for me. It's a strange and amazing feeling. I'm beginning to see how we women can go through all of the pains (most specifically, child birth!) of having a baby... it's such a sweet experience! I really didn't understand it before now, honestly. I thought I would be a wreck going through all the pains, doctor visits, needles, etc. etc. etc., and it's still a bit overwhelming, but what a sweet reward to think that 9 months of carrying that sweet child and finally meeting him or her face to face! It's just the sweetest thing!<br />
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Thanks for reading my pregnancy blog! I'm excited to share the experiences of the greatest adventure of my life so far... the journey to mommyhood!ashleyrhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09906321344611985038noreply@blogger.com0