Let It Be

When it comes to that proverbial fork in the road, I have no problem choosing a path and then staying the course.  I will not look back nor will I second guess.  I trust my gut and stubbornly see it through even if the path I chose is riddled with snakes, shadows and stickers.  It might not be the path everyone else would have chosen and rarely is it the easiest path...but it's MY path and I'm always bound and determined to prove to people that there is a light at the end of any tunnel.

My life has always had a plan and a path to follow.  From going to college to getting a job and then settling down to get married and have a child.  I've checked off all the MAJOR life decisions that must be made....so what comes next?

I feel like we are sitting in purgatory.  No path to follow and no course to take.  We're just sitting here stagnant and for the longest time, this is what I thought I wanted.  Well, I DO want my little family of Craig, Natalie and the pups but I'm not completely sold on the fact that the busy suburbs are where we are supposed to be.

And then you add in the weird place that Craig is in right now.  He is a wonderfully talented and incredibly intelligent basketball coach - he has the perfect mixture of a deep understanding of the more technical aspects of basketball and the ability to nurture, inspire and lead his girls to become not just strong basketball players, but good all-around athletes.  I love watching him coach because by knowing him so well, I can almost see the wheels turning as he paces the side line with his hands behind his back and his eyebrows furrowed.  But I'm not sure if he's completely satisfied with the career he has carved out for himself at this point in time.

This is what frustrates me.  I can't solve this problem for him.  I can't tell him what to do, how to do it or when he needs to do it.  

I hate feeling helpless.  I hate not having a plan.

Friday night as I was driving home from his basketball tournament, I turned on the Pandora on my iPhone and just prayed that God would put the perfect song in rotation - one that whose message would soothe my anxious soul and help me calm my frizzy brain.

This is what came blaring through the speakers.

I might have teared up a bit as "when you find yourself in times of trouble..." floated throughout my car.

Okay.  There were lots of tears.

So that is the message God wanted me to hear.  To LET.  IT.  BE.  To give Craig the time and space to figure out his own life while I just serve as his faithful and supportive wife.  

My heart calmed a bit.

And then a second thought occurred to me.  What a selfish and ungrateful person I am.  Here I am, about to embark on the dream job I had my sights set on when I graduated from college eight years ago. This math job is the result of thousands of prayers and mindful faithfulness over the past few years and I'm practically ready to throw it away with both hands because I want something different.

In that moment, I sat completely humbled in my car and remembered my place in this universe.  My job is not to make demands but instead to be grateful for the unbelievable gifts God has bestowed upon me. So I am shutting my mouth, opening my heart and waiting for God to unveil the next step in my family's life....in His perfect time and with His unwavering grace. 

Is this it?

Sometimes I feel this deep desire to just fall apart and sob. Today is one of those days. Nothing is wrong. Life is good, Natalie is beautiful and Craig spoiled me yesterday with new clothes.

But yet, I'm unsettled. Something is not sitting well in my stomach and my brain.

Perhaps it's the world that I'm surrounded by right now. So much is in limbo....so much is undecided.

The austerity in Washington.

My course load of classes next year.

The successful integration of technology into the classroom next year.

The conclave to choose a new pope in Rome.

And always weighing on my mind is if or when we will add to our little family.

So much of this is out of my control and I can say that I have faith in God's plan for not just me, but our family, my school district, my church and my country.....but saying and truly believing can be miles apart from each other sometimes.

And on a more personal level....

I've been struggling with the idea of REALLY being a mother. The other day, Craig and I were walking through the mall and I was pushing Natalie in her stroller when I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a store window.

Worn and faded Converse.

Light wash, boot cut jeans from Old Navy.

Aggie shirt and black Under Armour wind jacket.

Wet hair pulled back into a messy bun....minimal make-up.

I shuddered and groaned. I looked like somebody's mother. With or without pushing Natalie through the mall, to the naked eye, I was obviously past my prime and hurtling towards the fashion point of no return which I believe includes yoga pants, my husband's over-sized t-shirt and a loss of personal dignity.

Seriously.

I fought back tears as we strolled past shiny clothes on svelte mannequins while skinny college girls skimmed through the racks.

I used to be that girl.  And sometimes I wish I still was.

But then I look at Craig and Natalie and feel such immense guilt.  Why are they not enough?  I have so much to be thankful for, so to feel jealous of a skinny girl with a seemingly disposable income who is shopping at the mall seems so.....shallow.

But as much as I love the two of them, they cannot consume me.  I cannot be strictly their doting wife and cherished mother.  They are exactly what I want in life, but not ALL that I need....and is that okay to even admit?  That my family isn't all that I desire for myself?

Is this a pre-thirties-life-crisis?  Quite frankly, I'm exactly where I thought I would be at thirty - I am married, with a child, a home and a career.  I worked hard for everything I have and now is the time I should be pushing the coast button so that I can enjoy the view.

But I know that's not me.  I won't be content just coasting.  I must have something to challenge me.  I'm not happy if I'm not scaling some sort of mountain.

So perhaps it's okay that I'm unsettled right now because that's part of THE plan.  Maybe there's something waiting in the wings that will break open for me to tackle.

Bread Crumbs

It's the little things.....

........being wait-listed at A&M and making the choice to attend UNT........

........the change from early education to mid-level education........

........student teaching in my current district and at my former school........

........having lunch everyday with a coach who was on her way out........

........the tragic circumstances of Craig's father's death and his subsequent move home........

........being placed in the same coaching office........

All along this path, I questioned and yelled at God.  I was angry because I saw (what felt like) ALL my friends pairing off, finding love and starting their happily ever after.  

But God was like Gretel....placing little bread crumbs along the path and even though I didn't quite understand the path, I followed along unsuspecting of who was REALLY in charge all the while hoping to find my fairy tale ending.

For the past few years as I have looked to get out of coaching and while Craig and I have debated the "second child" conundrum, I found myself once again following along that path of bread crumbs but this time I was ready and willing.

People kept asking me if I was disappointed or upset when a door would close on a certain opportunity to get out of coaching.  And when I answered that I wasn't because I had faith the right position would come along, they seemed surprised.

But it was the truth.

Whether it was true faith in God's plan, or my own personal survival instincts, I had to believe that I was kept in the coaching arena for a certain amount of time because that's where God needed me.  For whatever reason, I was supposed to be here and coaching these specific girls and putting my desire for a second child on hold for the time being.  

And now it's time to move on.  I feel it in my gut.  This is the right decision for me, for my family, the athletes and the school.

God kept me here and told my heart to be still.  And so I put it in His hands and waited patiently....repeating the mantra that whatever will be....WILL BE.  I was going to be teaching wherever He felt my gifts were most needed....and apparently it is time for those gifts to leave the athletic arena and re-enter the classroom.

I cried when my principal offered me this position because I saw the pieces of God's plan coming together right in front of my eyes.

Moving On...

As of June 6th and if the current circumstances remain, my coaching career will cease to exist.

Next year I will forge ahead as a full-time 8th grade Math and Algebra teacher, my days filled with lessons, reviews, tests, tutoring and grading papers.  

This means no more early morning practices, late night games and weekend tournaments.

In general....this is a good thing.

I think.

I mean, when I graduated college coaching middle school volleyball was probably the furthest thing from my mind.  I was going to be a MATH TEACHER and that was that.  But the universe led me in a completely different direction and I found myself coaching middle school volleyball and cross country for what has ended up being the past seven years.  And for the most part, it has suited me well - I stayed involved in the age of athletics (middle school) that I loved the most, I got to mentor girls and hopefully helped them become strong young women.....and I even won a few championships along the way.

My life has been divided into sporting seasons since I was in third grade - the first year my parents signed me up for the city basketball league after a year of gymnastics didn't pan out.  Four years of city league led to three years of A team middle school ball and then finally onto the Varsity team in high school.  I headed up the intramurals athletics teams in my college sorority which culminated with a flag football league victory my senior year.  And then I moved on from playing to coaching....

But what now?

I always joke with my co-workers that sometimes I really get tired of hearing my name.

"Coach!  Look at this!"

"Hey Coach?  What time are we leaving?"

"I don't know what to do Coach!?"

"Coach, I need to call my mom!  I forgot my jersey!"

"Can I go to the bathroom, Coach?"

"Coach, do you like unicorns or narwhals better?" 

(Yes.  An ACTUAL question from an ACTUAL athlete.)

There might have even been a time when I told my volleyball players that the next person to say my name had to do ten push-ups because I was THAT tired of hearing my name attached to a question.

Coach.....Coach.....Coach.

If I'm not COACH, am I now going to be a MRS.?  Yikes.

I think the title change is scarier than the actual JOB switch.

Things will be different.  Life will different.  I will have the luxury of leaving school if Natalie has a doctor's appointment, if there are errands that must be ran....or if I am flat out tired and ready to go home.

So why am I sitting here with tears in my eyes?  This is what I have wanted for several years - my principal coming into my room and presenting me with this opportunity was a the big signal from God as to where my life should be heading.  A slowed down life, spending time with Natalie and the even possibility of having a second child.

Yes.  Another baby.....not now, but sometime in the next year.

I had more or less resigned myself to the idea of Natalie being an only child because I didn't see an end to my coaching career given the economic and employment atmosphere in my district.  But this opportunity has presented itself and with Craig voicing his desire for a second child....I'm allowing myself to become excited, nervous and even a little starry-eyed about this next step in our life.

But back to those tears in my eyes.  I love coaching in the sense of....I love seeing the girls work hard, improve and then that MOMENT when it all clicks for them and they are successful.  I love the close relationships that I form from hours spent in gyms, locker rooms and on a bus together.  Those are the moments that I'm going to miss and those are the memories that I'm going to cherish forever.

I haven't told my girls yet and I am dreading the day when they find out.  The 8th graders will be sad....but they will be moving onto the high school shortly.  It's the 7th graders I worry about.  I don't want them to feel like I am abandoning them....like coaching them just wasn't good enough for me.

Because coaching them WAS good enough for me....until it just wasn't.

And this little curly headed girl is definitely a good enough reason to say good-bye.

God is still GOOD

Where do you start praying after a day like today?

For the families who suffered a loss so great that there isn't a word to define a parent who has grieved a child?

For the children whose nights will be filled with dreams of gunshots and fallen classmates?

Or perhaps for the men who have the job of entering that classroom and picking up the littlest of bodies?

Maybe a prayer for the new principal and teachers who will continue on at the school while fighting the horror that will surely permeate the mind, heart and soul of all who enter?

I just don't know where to begin and how to get the words just right.....because there is so much to pray for.

But I do know this.

God is still GOOD and RIGHTEOUS.

It pains me to read commentary reflecting on an apparently "obvious" absence of God when this maniac fought his way into an elementary school and murdered a classroom full of first graders.

"Where was God?"

"Why didn't He stop this from happening?"

From my years of religious education.....human beings are not puppets.  We have been given a body, brain and soul to use here on Earth in addition to free will AND the Bible.  I have the choice to follow the word of God or to engage in sinful behavior.

God never said that life here on Earth would be free from unspeakable tragedy or heart-wrenching pain and suffering.  In fact, he pretty much assures us that just by the very nature of being human there is no doubt that we WILL encounter those things but then in the same breath He reminds us that through all the bad, He is still GOOD.

My faith has not been shaken.  My belief is still strong.

On Friday night I hugged my baby girl on the couch and sobbed for those mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers who will spend the rest of their lives with a piece of their family puzzle missing.  The first responders who had to uncover the carnage and the children who ran fearfully from their school building.  The family of the shooter because their grief is the loneliest of all.

God is still GOOD and RIGHTEOUS.  Humans are fallible and sinful.

The horrific events that unfolded on Friday were an act of an evil human, not of a vengeful or spiteful God.

Purposeful and Productive Prayer

The other day I had to break it to my naive little sixth graders - live does not get easier.  I tried to break it to them gently and without invoking a fear of the future, but the fact of the matter is......it's an important life lesson.

I remember growing up that I always thought things would be better once I got to that next stage.  Life would be awesome once I got my driver's license and could cruise out of my house whenever I wanted.  As soon as senior year hit I was ready to move out of the house, into the dorm and live the college lifestyle free of any parental restrictions.  But being broke and having my bank account at the mercy of my parents got old pretty quick and as graduation approached, I was dreaming of living on my own, buying lots of clothes and running around town in a shiny new car.  And that's what I did for two and a half years.  But the fun wore off and as I saw my friends finding REAL contentment as they became engaged, married and for some, even mothers.....I realized that I too yearned to be in that next stage of life where things settled down and became routine.

And here I am.  Married, a mother - the epitome of settled down and routine.

Except that it's not.

Life still throws us curve balls.  Things happen that we can't possibly plan for.  There is struggle and pain.  There is heartache and there are tears.

When God created me, he didn't give me a thick skin.  For whatever reason, a reason I have yet to figure out, he created me in a manner so that I FEEL EVERYTHING.  I am a sensitive person.  I take things to heart and I wear that heart firmly on my sleeve for all to see.  I love deeply and am handsomely rewarded by the intimate friendships that I have in my life.  But this sensitivity also creates intense hurt when loved ones struggle and experience pain or even when love is betrayed, damaged or rejected.

In the past I would cope with pain, worry, fear, unease, stress and all other negative emotions by drinking, shopping, and partying....among other things.  If I didn't have time to sit around my apartment letting my brain wander to things that were unpleasant, then it meant that those bad things and bad emotions didn't exist.  

Needless to say..........that coping mechanism didn't always work.

So now that I'm somewhat of a grown adult, I have been forced to find a different way of working through my anxiety and worry when it comes to the curve balls that life throws at us.  After all, anxiety is a sign that you're not trusting in God and in His plan.  If I can trust in God and pray for the guidance and wisdom that only He can provide, then my Earthly anxieties should be quelled because I have faith in His goodness.

The most surefire thing that I have found that adequately douses out all forms of anxiety and stress in my life is prayer.  Praying for the patience to get through the next five minutes or praying for the health of a friend's child.  Praying for wisdom, guidance and support.  Prayers to help me find the right words to use so that my message comes across clearly and with compassion.  A prayer to help me look beyond the surface and have patience with a struggling student.  Daily prayers that Natalie will grow up happy, healthy, secure and safe.  Continual prayers for the health and well being of all my family and friends.

There is so much in life that is completely out of my control and I cannot possibly protect myself and those that I love from bad things happening to us.  Babies will get sick.  Parents will someday die.  Friends will be in car accidents.

The only way I have found to deal with all my stress, my worry and my anxiety is to pray and truly place it into God's hands.  I used to think that meant giving up and being a sheep but I have found it to be so empowering.  It takes such a weight off of my shoulders that I can focus on being proactive and effective in my real life instead of spending so much time in the foggy haze of anxiety.

I have a dear friend Kate who in addition to being someone I have literally known since birth, she is also Natalie's godmother.  I chose Kate because she is the yin to my yang in a way that is lighthearted, carefree, spirited, mystical........characteristics I would absolutely love to have but find a hard time displaying in my day to day life.  In January Kate gave birth to an adorable little girl named Audrey and we were thrilled with the prospect of our two daughters growing up to be great friends just like we did.

Shortly after Audrey was born, Kate and her husband Karl had an epically rough night where Audrey refused to eat for several hours and subsequently went into a coma-like state.  Scary stuff with a newborn.  Long story short and after MUCH testing and debate, they were sent onto a specialist for more testing and the tentative diagnosis of VLCAD which is essentially a disorder where a person's digestive system cannot break down stored fat for energy leaving ONLY the food in one's stomach for energy.  Basically all of that meant was that for the remainder of Audrey's life she would never be able to have an empty stomach and would be on a very strict diet made up of foods that would maximize the amount of energy her body absorbed.  This also meant that for the time being, Kate and Karl had to feed Audrey on a very strict schedule of EVERY three hours with no rest.  

In addition to fear, worry and exhaustion, there was a sense of loss.  No cupcakes at birthday parties.  No Trick or Treating on Halloween.  And since this is a genetic disorder passed on by the parents....the possibility of no biological siblings as well.

All of this on top of caring for a newborn child and adjusting to the new roles of parenting.

It was a curveball.

And the only answer was prayer.  Lots and lots of prayers for a cure, a misdiagnosis, a lesser form of the disease.  

I prayed for their marriage.  I prayed for courage and strength for Kate.  I promised no sweet treats for Natalie when Audrey was around.  I prayed for the silver lining to the clouds that my friend was experiencing.  There had to be a greater lesson - something BIGGER that was to come out of all this.

I believe it was in April sometime when I saw the missed call and voicemail from Kate.  I listened intently to what she had said.  And then I had to listen again.  

And then I screeched.

All the testing that Audrey had undergone to clearly define and diagnose the extent of her VLCAD?  Came back negative.  She is one perfectly healthy and happy little girl.  

I was absolutely stunned.  Overjoyed and excited.  But stunned at the power of prayer.  Those results were better than anything I (or Kate) had allowed ourselves to hope for.  

There it was right in front of me.  The power of prayer and the evidence of a little miracle.  A little miracle with soft reddish fuzzy hair, big brown eyes that are always alert and skinny legs that are constantly moving.

I look at my own life and see the outcomes of my prayers - the character of my husband, the strength of my marriage, the health and vitality of my daughter, and the grace and wisdom I am gaining each and every day.

Life as an adult can get overwhelming.  At times it's hard, messy and ugly.  And for those of us that were created a little more sensitive than the rest, all that ugliness can be shattering and debilitating.  By giving up control of the situation and putting it all into God's hands and trusting the plan that He illuminates for me, I am actually able to feel more in control of my life and emotions here on Earth which make me much more productive and helpful during those stressful situations.  

I want Natalie to understand that someday......her life will get ugly too.  Things will happen to her that neither Craig nor myself will be able to protect her from.  And in those darkest moments (and then once back in the light as well) I hope that she will be able to call on God to help quell her anxiety as well.  My goal as her mother is not only to create a self-sufficient adult but a devoted lifelong child of God as well. 

The Line in the Sand

Growing up as a Catholic, I don't have the best repertoire of Bible verses ready to soothe or inspire the soul at any given moment.  I have a great understanding of the general concepts presented but lack the....to put it in terms of writing a formal research paper....bibliography to prove my thoughts, ideas and beliefs.

But I do remember one:

Let he who is without sin be the first to cast a stone.

I am painfully aware of my shortcomings and my failings as a human living on this Earth.  I know that I do not always speak with the kindest of words, make the best decision with everyone else in mind, I often speak before I think and sometimes the words that I DON'T say aren't kind in nature either.  It is plainly stated throughout the Bible that there is one true and just Judge and I'll fill you in on a little secret.........IT AIN'T ME.

My sins are no better and no worse than anyone else on this planet.

So here's my quandary - where does a person draw the line?  At what point does someone, who just by the nature of being human, is a sinner report on the "sins" of another person.  By alerting the proper authorities to the negative behaviors of a peer, am I saying that I am without sin and therefore trying to cast the proverbial first stone?

Through the Bible Study of 1 Peter that I participated in this spring, I delved deeply into submission and suffering - which oftentimes go hand in hand.  The idea of suffering is no stranger to me but I didn't struggle with that subject.  I know that suffering is part of life but I also have suffered enough to understand that there is always good that comes from the bad.  As the only saying goes - the sun always rises.  There is always a greater purpose and as the eternal optimist that I strive to be, I constantly keep an eye on the silver lining in any given situation.  How can I become a better person through this struggle and strife?  What lesson can I learn and apply to future situations as well as people who are struggling around me?

But the submission section, particularly the submitting to authority when the authority isn't what you consider "just" or even "qualified" is where I struggle.  Is it prideful of me to believe that I could do a better job leading?  Am I reporting a poor leader with the most honest of intentions?  Peter states that we are to be subject to those in power above us because in doing so, we are being submissive to God the Father who placed those people in those positions of authority over us.  As my Bible Study leader so aptly put it - respect the position even when you find it difficult to respect the person.

On the larger scale, I have no problem or personal issue with accepting a president as the leader of our country despite the fact that I might have differing political views.  I am an active citizen who believes in making my voice heard during the election year and if the results don't sway in my favor, I am disappointed but my job as a citizen is also to accept, respect and pray for the president of my country.  But on the other hand, when the authority figure is close by and their lack of leadership impacts your daily life, at what point do you stop being submissive to the position and begin voicing your opinion of dissent?  Who am I to judge that the manner in which I conduct myself in my day to day life is any better than another person?

In essence, where is that illusive line in the sand?  Where does one finally say that enough is enough and things have crossed the line and it's my time to do or say something?  There is a reason that the proverbial "line" isn't drawn on the concrete, on hardwood or any other solid surface - life isn't that cut and dry or that black and white.  People, feelings, situations, circumstances........it's all constantly changing, morphing, growing and shrinking.  What was so seemingly set in stone yesterday has drifted away this morning and transformed into a new beast to deal with and conquer.

I don't believe that when Peter was writing to the exiles in Biblical times that he was demanding that they forever shut their mouths and accept whatever leadership was in charge.  As with everything in life, there is an appropriate time and place for healthy discussion and dissenting voices to be heard.  Through copious amounts of prayer, reflection and conferring with trusted advisers, I know that now is the time for me to speak up.  I pray that I will use my voice to convey concern, respect, truthfulness and above all - dignity for all parties involved.

And above all, I believe this is about intent.  After quite a bit of soul searching, I believe in my intentions.  I believe that I want the best for everyone.....although the definition of "best" might be different of some.  I know that God has drawn me to and through this struggle for a reason - one that I haven't fully realized yet - but that I will become a stronger person as a result.

Baptism

Natalie was baptized this afternoon at the same church where I was baptized, received First Communion and then was Confirmed.  My mother was also the Youth Minister in charge of junior and senior high religious education for ten years.  All of our family members and many of our close family friends joined us today at the church to witness and then celebrate Natalie's initiation into the Catholic faith.

Getting dressed in her christening gown before the ceremony.

Being blessed with the holy water while being held by her godparents, my brother Mike and my close friend Kate.

The four adults in charge of the spiritual raising of this child.  Uh oh.  Ha, ha, ha.

At one point during the ceremony Deacon Harry proposed an interesting (and rhetorical) question. 

Why get your child baptized?

As a man of faith he wants to make sure that people are baptizing children with the intent to truly raise them in the Christian manner and not just because the grandparents request it or because "it's just the thing you do."  I've thought a lot about this in the past few weeks leading up to today.  Why do I want her baptized?  What am I commiting to do as a mother for my child through this action?  How does this one ceremony shape the morals and values that my family will uphold?

It's very simple.  I want Natalie to have a relationship with God.

I want her to understand that everything good and perfect is sent from God.

I want her to know that she is made perfectly in his image from the very top of her head to the tips of her toes.

I want her to have a spiritual shield and sword to combat the trials and struggles that she'll come up against in her life.

I want her walk in the footsteps of Jesus and strive to treat people with compassion, respect, kindness and without prejudice.

I want her to lead by example and be a Christian role model for those around her thus spreading the glory of God.

I want her to know that in her darkest hour when she is feeling the most alone, she is not.

And selfishly....I know that I can't always protect her from everything that is bad in this world.  She will hurt and she will cry and I won't always be there.  But God will.  And as a mother who will eventually send my precious baby out into the world, I have to cling to the knowledge that God will always be with my baby even when I am not.

Gratitude

It is 2:45 in the morning of Tuesday, April 12th and I have a lot to be thankful for..

Dear God,

Thank you for the gift of modern medicine and the dose of Zantac that seems to have calmed and soothed my daughter's digestive tract.

Thank you for my friend Michelle for reccommending Natalie's pediatrician to us - we love the atmosphere and the people...the doctor today was so patient when she had to deal with two very anxious, tired and worried parents.

Thank you for the ultrasound technician who was so patient and gentle with Natalie this afternoon.

Thank you for my husband who devoted his day off (which was supposed to be a fun and relaxing "family day") to attending two doctor's appointments with me so that we could find out together what is wrong with Natalie and how we can best treat her acid reflux.

Thank you for my mother who abandoned any of her personal plans on Sunday and instead came up to my house to help me get my life in order after a LONG and sleepless Saturday night.

Thank you for our four legged daughter Angie who through all the screaming that her sister did, stayed calm and tried to soothe me and Craig by lots of licks and cuddles.

I know that acid reflux in an infant is easily treatible and in the grand scheme of things...not something too terribly tragic.  But watching my daughter writhe in pain after vomiting up her entire meal and not being able to do anything about it was absolutely heartwrenching. 

And in ironies of all ironies, after two consecutive mostly sleepless nights with a very upset newborn...it's 2:45 and I can't sleep.

I'm Not Alone

Friday night was a little rough.  I had just returned home from an almost all day trip to my parent's house because my middle brother Mike flew into town from Maine to visit and meet his godaughter for the first time.  It was about 8:30 and I was about to settle down at the table and eat my grilled cheese sandwich when Natalie, who I had just left sleeping peacefully in her carrier on the kitchen table next to me, started to wake up and cry.  As I was lifting her up out of the carrier, I felt something warm and squishy on my fingers as I reached around her back.  Oh shit.  Literally.  She had exploded out of the TWO diapers she was wearing (more on that later) and all over her brand new dress and on the carrier.  I abandoned my dinner and went about cleaning her up - thank goodness for paper towels because I somehow managed to escape this entire ordeal without getting the poop directly on me.  I went ahead and wiped her entire body down with baby wipes and put her in her pajamas and then laid her in the bouncer seat downstairs while I focused on dismantling her carrier and then Oxy Clean-ing EVERYTHING that she was wearing or sitting in.  While I'm rushing around the kitchen and the laundry room taking things apart and scrubbing and starting laundry, Natalie is lying in her bouncer screaming.  Not just the "I'm hungry" or "I'm being ignored" cries, but flat out screaming like Angie was gnawing off her toes.  The more gutteral her cries became, the higher my blood pressure rose and eventually, I'm not sure who was crying more...me or her.  And if Angie could cry tears, she would have because she was just as nervous and anxious about the situation as I was.  Finally I was able to shut the lid on the washer and rush back to the bouncer where my child's face was as hot pink as her "I heart Daddy" pajamas and I whisked her upstairs to her dark and quiet bedroom to calm down and nurse.  As she began to relax and nurse, I could feel the tension seeping out of my body and I was able to rest my head back on the glider, close my eyes and take a few deep breaths.  As I opened my eyes and looked down at my little cherub with her eyes closed peacefully, her hand clenched around the middle strap of my nursing tank top and her cheeks still slightly flushed from her frustration...I realized something.  I was not alone.  Two thousand years ago, Mary nursed and loved her baby Jesus just as I nursed and loved on Natalie that night.  She too had her moments of sheer anxiety and panic while raising him and in that instance, I felt comforted.  Comforted...and humbled.  I now understand the love that she had for Jesus and it wasn't love just because he bore the name Savior, but because to her, he bore the name Son.  She loved him just as much as I love Natalie and what a sacrifice it was for her to allow him to become a Savior for the rest of the world.  It might have taken about what seemed like a gallon of poop and an hour of sheer insanity for me to gain this great insight, but everytime I feel like I'm going to lose it when Natalie wants to nurse...AGAIN...for the fifth time in an hour, I remember that I'm not alone and that women have been doing this against greater odds than what I face.