I’m sure you’ve heard stories from others about how God has used trials to get our attention, right? I know I have and I know I’ve been a part of some, just like last week. But first let me set the stage…
It was Valentine’s Day morning. I got up a little earlier to fix my three little love bugs and hunny-bunny-of-a-husband a fun, festive breakfast. I had put together a stuffed French toast bake the night before as well as a little table decorating. All I had to do when I woke up was 1) tip-toe past Dagen the Resident Noise Nazi {which, PS, is not easy being a little heavier and a lot clumsier in my 5th month}, 2) fix the bacon and 3) mix the strawberry milk.
Side Note: I had some inner struggles serving strawberry milk {which included strawberry-infused-sugar rimmed cups - I know, WHAT?!?} to these crazies. If you know me at all, you know my thoughts on artificial coloring. We’ve seen living proof of what it can do to our 'angels' behaviors – NO BUENO. However, I decided that I could overlook it for this special occasion…besides, they were off to school after breakfast. I decided I would simply pray for their teachers/classmates/random strangers that may encounter them and their looney toon outburts. Totally NOT joking on this one.
So breakfast was a hit. Dayne is still telling me how it was the best breakfast ever {score!}. I even had little place cards with their names and left them sweet little Valentine’s derived from Scripture on L-O-V-E. {Thank you, Pinterest, for making me Awesome Mommy for the morning.}
Because it was Thursday, Dallas had to leave a little early for carline duty at his school. These usually make for ‘fun’ mornings as I try to clean up breakfast, make sure everyone has backpacks, lunch boxes, shoes, jackets and clean teeth. This day was no different but, surprisingly, we were out the door a few minutes early and everyone was happy but not yet strung out on the strawberry ‘crack.’
And then it happened. We got in the van and started backing out of the garage. I realized a light was still on inside so I threw the van in park, opened the side door and Dagen ran in to turn it off. When he came back, I attempted to put the van back in reverse. But it wouldn’t go. The gear shifter ma-jiggy wouldn’t go one way or the other.
I was a little panicked but remained calm and did what I always do – called my neighbors. God bless these people – I’m glad we’re not just neighbors but friends. They have helped us out in a pinch more than a few times. Billy came down, tried to get it in gear to no avail. He offered one of their vehicles and went back home to get it so that I could get the boys to school. While he was gone, I sat there and started praying. Outloud. Fine, it was a little more like a scream but a prayer nonetheless - something like, ‘PLEASE LORD, LET THIS WORK!’ And then I told the boys I was going to turn the van off, turn it back on and try one more time before Mr. Billy came back.
Would you believe this? In that moment, the gear shifter ma-jiggy popped into reverse! We were all screaming with excitement but the best part was the conversation that immediately followed:
Davis: ‘Mommy, do you realize that God just worked a miracle through you?’
Me: ‘He certainly did. Woohoo!’
Dagen: ‘No, no, no. Mommy moved that stick – not God.’
Davis: ‘Yes but not until Mommy prayed for God to fix it.’
#BOOM
Some might say that a safety switch reset, others might say I did something different on that attempt to fix but me and my boys know the truth. Jesus was just reminding me that prayer shouldn’t be a last resort but a first resolve {thanks Pastor Paul!}
To some, this may not sound like much in the way of stress and, in that moment, it really wasn’t. However, you should know that we had endured a trial or two in the days leading up. Nothing of Job magnitude, thankfully, but still very frustrating. Extra doctor bills, leaky ceilings, family sickness, home selling struggles…it was all adding up and this just seemed to be another item to the list. Fortunately, we were not only spared the expense but also reminded of God’s goodness.
In other news, my belly has taken on a life of its own and the comments increase daily. It really is a good thing that I’m thick-skinned and don’t take these things to heart. I mean, not only is pregnancy a challenge physically but you have to be on your game mentally and emotionally, too.
Case in point - this past weekend, I had Davis & Dayne with me at Aldi…on a Saturday. Bad combination. I was clearly not 'on my game' for what was to come. You see, I have a love/hate relationship with Aldi. You can get some great deals and really stock up but you also better be ready to drop a shoulder if needed to get through an aisle. People will straight run you over in the produce section, pregnant or not. There are no exceptions. Good thing I’m a defensive driver with the cart like I am with my mini-van.
Anyway, we made it through the store {with Dayne only screaming, ‘I NEED TO POOP!’ twice} and to the checkout lane where the cashier seemed just devastated that not only did I have 3.5 months to go but that I was {gasp!} having another boy.
Aldi Cashier: ‘Oh honey, bless your little heart. You’re just so doggone big and already have your hands full with these two boys…’
Me: {insert forced smile, clear throat} ‘No ma’am, I actually have three boys, one is at home with his daddy.’
Aldi Cashier: ‘THREE boys? So you’re going to have FOUR boys? Oh my heavens, honey! What on earth are you going to do? Lawd almighty!’
Okay, so if I wasn’t already filled with anxiety of the shopping trip itself, I basically received an anything-but-encouraging word from the cashier who, because of her carrying voice, let the Granny behind us know my situation. Now they’re both going on and on about how I’ve got my hands full for sure and was I aware of how much boys eat {um, yeah, I’m familiar}. I almost felt like I needed to give both Granny and the cashier a hug and reassure them that everything was going to be okay…with me.
On a positive note, she did offer to help me bag my groceries but, at this point, Dayne was repeatedly ramming a broken cart into a pallet jack and Davis was standing on top of the bagging shelf, dancing a jig, so I politely declined. Honestly, I was a little afraid of the additional ‘advice’ I might be subjected to…
Now, let me just say that had I not been in the stressful situation of Aldi on a Saturday morning with two of my three, I might have had a little fun with this. I do happen to have a sense of humor {What? Sarcasm absolutely counts!} and enjoy watching the faces of strangers when I tell them my due date and that it’s my fourth BOY. It’s quite entertaining to see their expressions. It’s almost like I just told them that their dog died, they look that torn up.
I’m thinking that, in the right moment, I might deny being pregnant altogether or use ‘last week’ as my due date answer. Or what about this? When someone asks, ‘What in the world are you going to do with four boys?, I reply with, ‘I have NO idea! Do you want one?’ Or, ‘I don’t know, what do you think I should do?’ I kid, I kid.
In any case, I think we’ve established that baby boy #4 is growing just fine. We are midway through week #24 and he is already performing some nice bend-you-over bladder kicks. We had our official anatomy scan last month and all measurements were right on track. He was kind enough to show the ‘goods’ again, just in case we weren’t convinced from the earlier ultrasound. He appears to be mighty proud of himself. It’s clear that he will fit in just fine with this crew.
And it appears that ‘he’ shall remain nameless until Social Security Administration demands we give him a name. Seriously, I feel like Dallas and I have tossed around every possible combination, some extremely ‘out there’ but nothing has grabbed a hold of us both at the same time. Clearly we have a theme with ‘Da’ in all our boys’ names so we have to stick with that but I’m starting to wonder if we really have to follow that pattern? Let’s be honest – therapy is a given once he enters into this family as the youngest of four. Imagine all the wedgies, swirlies and wet willies he has coming in the next 18 years – naming him something like Joe Bob isn’t going to change that so why lose sleep over it, right? Right?
