Wednesday, September 11, 2013


I've all but fallen off the blogostratosphere.

It's just that I discovered Pepperidge Farm's Shortbread Cookies so I've been busy. Eating cookies.

What an incredible season this has been for our family. I wake up praising God, fall asleep praising Him, and whisper a million prayers of gratitude and thankfulness in between.
I feel Finley Jane kick and roll and turn and dance and jab and move constantly and there's just no sweeter reminder of God's Grace.

When I decided to blog about our history of loss and infertility, I had no idea how God was going to use our story, I just knew that He had a purpose for everything, and most thankfully, that His purpose surpassed my understanding (or lack thereof). Y'all have shared unending stories with me and each time I receive an email or text or phone call, I am so incredibly humbled. My heart breaks with each and every story that is shared, but I know that God will use everything for His glory, in His time. I humbly pray for so many of you each and every day and cover you in a million prayers of Hope.

I have always tried to strive to separate joy from sorrow and sorrow from joy. In seasons of our own personal sorrow and struggle (Lord knows we've had 'em), I tried my hardest to separate that pain from the joy I felt for others. In this sweet, sweet season of joy, it is my prayer that I separate that from the sorrow I still feel for so many precious friends who are in seasons of "waiting". Because of that, I decided that y'all didn't need to read about how big my ankles have gotten or how many stretch marks I have gained or about how I still can't look at my toothbrush without hurling. Those are beautiful, precious, sacred things undoubtedly, but I just don't necessarily feel right about blogging about being pregnant this go round.

Social media floods our minds and hearts with unending images and words that we sometimes welcome and are thankful for, and sometimes are not. So I've been quietly dancing in God's grace with indescribable joy. It's all but shut "Between the Lines" down, but I feel God breathing a peace and quiet over me that I just can't disturb.

This post is for my sweet friends who are still in that tough space--the gap we call the "waiting"...I urge you to cling to the one thing that transcended both our sorrow and now, our joy: HOPE. It really does cover those dark spaces and lights the way for beautiful things yet to come.

To our precious friends and family members who have shared in our joy over the past 6 months, we just cannot thank you enough. I always go back to "shared joy is double the joy and shared sorrow is half the sorrow"--us Davises got really stellar at walking in seasons of chaos and I have to say, we could sure get used to frolicking in these sweet seasons of joy.
Much love to you all!

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Think Pink!

Best beach phone call ever. Ever.
A HEALTHY baby GIRL is on the way!

We shrieked. And hand flapped. And cried. And marveled and marveled in God's goodness. While staring at the ocean. Oh, how I will treasure those moments forever.
Chris was in a condo with 6 (SIX) girls when we got the call from the perinatologist. After all the jazz hands and spirit sprinkles I think he broke into a cold sweat and said something about a shot gun. Bless him. She is already wrapped around his little finger, don't let him fool ya.

We came home and I have somehow gotten buried under a pile of burlap and lace and minky dot fabric.

What a season of absolute JOY for our little family. I almost can't get over how sweet it feels to soak up such a season.

Her name is Finley, meaning "beautiful warrior" and we just can't think of a better name to give this little sassy Sugar Britches. She is already such an incredible breath of fresh air that I just don't know what else to do but monogram and surround myself little ruffly things.

So that's just what I am doing...
Emily over at Holden's Hut had these precious burps made up within 10 minutes of us sharing our news. Sweetest things ever. Great big thank you, Emily!!

Monday, June 24, 2013

Angle of the Dangle

A few things I've learned over the past few weeks:

1. It is entirely possible to be extremely nauseous, choke down a Zofran, and somehow manage to eat a plate full of Extreme Nacho Doritos. Dipped in Ketchup.

2. God's grace and provision can wipe away our human frailty in an instant. 2 weeks ago we sashayed back down to Dr. Sermons' office, sweating *tiny* bullets, praying without ceasing to please, please, please not receive bad news and be shuffled to the consult room where the plastic vaginas stare at you as you shift in the itchy blue chairs of doom.

What we saw brought us to our knees (again).
This is where I start to flail around each time and ask if that is really our little baby on the screen.Then there was this:
Break it down Baby. Break it down. Dancing away in there. Stop the DNA tests right now. We know this one is ours.

 Mighty miracles!

3. I will in fact, spend the rest of this pregnancy nekkid. It's because there are no cute stretchy clothes. Anywhere. Any. Where.

4. If you have not become versed in the "angle of the dangle" theory (we had not), my sweet, sweet perinatologist Dr. Stone will gladly educate you on it from behind his spotfree coke bottle glasses. Bless it. LOVE that man. Loved him 3 years ago. Love him now.

We made it through round one of our genetic testing today. Again, God's grace wipes away our human frailty.

First on the agenda was to rule out any markers of Turner's Syndrome. There are none visible-PRAISE the Lord! Amongst the chatter of Trisomy this and Trisomy that, I somehow got lost in our little one's itty bitty button nose. So perfect. So. dern. cute. Could not take my eyes off of it.

In love. Head over heels.

Perfectly formed, no matter what the gazillion (unsolicited) genetic tests may reveal.

The bulk of the tests will be back in around 10 days and that's awful nice of the sweet folks at Northside and we sure do appreciate their attention to detail but to us, they make no difference. Not a one.

Well ok maybe one tiny difference. Because Turner Syndrome affects only girl babies, one of the tests will confirm "the angle of the dangle". And welp, that makes my heart a wincy bit happy.

I'm a planner y'all. And a monogrammer. Please excuse my sillyness.

"He has made everything beautiful in it's time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men, yet they cannot fathom what He has done from beginning to end". -Ecclesiastes 3:11

We are surrounded by the very best prayer warriors, friends, and family in all the world and we sure cannot thank you enough for your encouragement and kind words. Truly, great big hugs and lots of love! After several seasons of, ahem, chaos, we are soaking up His goodness and mercy, dancing in the joy this mighty blessing is bringing us. Thank you for coming along for the ride. I apologize about the Doritos and ketchup visual picture. And the nekkid comment. And the angle of the dangle offensiveness. That is all.

Monday, June 10, 2013


I said I wasn't going to do any cheeseball pictures this go round. Uh uh. Nope. Sitting on the sidelines of this pregnancy rocking my sea bands and Zofran praising a God who has given us a second chance.

Then I realized that I look like a busted can of biscuits (howcanthisbewheni'velost7pounds?) and thought what the heck.
Barefoot and pregnant.

This pregnancy has been different. Way. 

I was paralyzed by fear for the first 4-5 weeks. Had to shake my sillies out and remember that I am not in control and therefore being a fraidy cat is just about as useless as trying to order meatless sushi. *I might have done that a few weeks ago.*

Once I got out of the fetal position from being paralyzed by fear, I faceplanted myself (purposefully) on the bathroom floor so I could feel the cold tiles on my cheeks. I think God has given me the gift of all-day-sickness as a blessing of reassurance. As long as I am heaving and sweating, I am reminded that I am still pregnant. It's a beautiful mess.

I feel like we are walking on Holy Ground. Borrowed Ground. God-Given Ground. That alone has made it so very different. Not that I took our previous pregnancies for granted at all, it's just I realize that this go round is an absolute gift.

My human self wants to say that we are holding our breaths and hoping for the best, but I know that's not true. God has called us to more than that. We are praising Him, trusting Him, and leaning on Him.

We've had a lot of ultrasounds this go round. 7 already. I guess that's one perk of being a fruitcake high risk gal I won't argue with one bit. Each time I stare motionless at the little black and white screen and almost can't believe it's OUR baby. Each time I flail and ask if everything is ok. Each time it absolutely has been.

We have always been given the choice of having the extra genetic screening tests and we have always declined. This go round it isn't an option. The second the fear of having lost a baby to a genetic syndrome rises up in me, I have to squash it. Squish squash. So we will take that extra visit with the perinatologist. It'll just be one more opportunity for us to praise Him.

My visit to Big Al this week is the visit that we found out we lost Ella Grace last year. I realize that normal people don't think in crazy terms like that, but for us, it will be a huge milestone and hurdle.

Praying, praying, praying for one more week of staring at that screen in awe of the great things He has done! 

We cannot thank y'all enough for your precious words of encouragement and for covering us in so many prayers. Truly, thank you from the very bottom of our hearts!

Monday, May 20, 2013


I haven't blogged in the longest time.

It's not because I haven't had anything to say. Lord knows I've always got something to say. *Jazz hands*

It's been an act of obedience.

I've needed to be still and I've needed to wait.

And so I have.

Disclaimer- this post goes against all news breaking etiquette. All. It’s actually got me all nervous and sweaty palmed just thinking about it. It's just that when God says move, you've gotta move.

Our walk through infertility and loss has been life changing. It's honestly rocked me to the core. It has been a walk of humility, of grief, of God's amazing grace, and often times a walk of isolation. It's not that I've ever felt alone necessarily. It's just that infertility and loss somehow has a way of making you feel very small.

It is what it is y'all.

I have cried out to a God I adore more than anything. I've felt him as close as a hand on my shoulder and as far as a thousand miles away.

We've had several disheartening doctors appointments over the past 6 months. I left my OBs office a few months ago begging him to please call us if someone left a baby in a Moses basket on his front stoop. I meant it.

I went home from that appointment and stepped straight into the looney bin. I decided to ask God to let me just dream about becoming a mom again. I told Him I understood that it wasn't ever, ever going to happen but in order for me to know He was still near, I bargained for a dream. One dream.

I'm telling you, waaaay out of the Ali box.

What I received was two weeks of the most magical, amazing dreams. Vivid dreams. Spiritual dreams. Unlike anything I've ever experienced. I could almost reach out and touch God in them. And in all of them, I was pregnant.

Bear with me.

One Tuesday night I fell asleep and once again dreamed and hung out with my Jesus and my preggo belly. Wacko. I know it. Only this time the dream ended with Him speaking to me and saying "When you wake, you will know and see that I am God".

My mom was also in this dream and she told me clear as day that when I woke up I needed to take a pregnancy test. She reminded me that I am to never stop believing.

I woke up that Wednesday morning completely baffled. I knew without a doubt that I needed to drive myself to Walmart and purchase a pack of pregnancy tests. And that thought alone made me ill as a hornet. After seeing two years worth of negative pregnancy tests, the last thing I wanted was to start my day with another one.

But I went.

And I came home and obediently took a test. For the sole purpose of putting it all behind me and moving on with my day. Grumpette taking the day by storm.

Within 2.2 seconds two lines flashed across the test. TWO.

I didn't know it was even possible for TWO lines to flash across a test at our house. Bam. Bam.

I fell to my knees and began crying out to God.

Chris and I spent the day in complete awe. Somewhere in there I decided that the brand of test I took must have been faulty. So I promptly took eleventy more tests- each a different brand. Each time two magnificent lines flashed across them within seconds. Each time I again, fell to my knees.

There is absolutely no explanation for us getting pregnant other than we serve a mighty and sovereign God who never ever leaves us.

It's not about us. It's about Him and His ability to say to one mountain "get up from here and move over there".

We are humbled. We are gracious. We are down right beside ourselves. And as it should be, the glory goes to Him, the blessings rain down at the very moment He wills them to.

We are claiming Gods mercy on this baby. We are going on 8 weeks now. It’s been a bit of a rough start and we still don’t know what the outcome will be but we are clinging to God’s promise that He will complete the work He has started in us. We are praying that a hedge of protection will surround us and allow us to carry this tiny blessing. We are singing unending praises and thanking Him like never before. We are grateful for every single second, minute, and hour that we get to experience this joy. If we make it 9 weeks, we will praise Him. If we make it 9 months, we will praise Him.

Expecting. Us, the Davises. Unbelievable!

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

12 Stone: A Corvette Marriage. Hold tight to your knickers.

Our church, 12 Stone, has asked couples to submit "marriage breakthrough" stories as part of our current series on marriage. Because we know that God is using us (always has been), we couldn't ignore his whispers to submit our story. Only when we went to submit it, we learned that the online form has a 350 word limit. We giggled. If only we could sum this up in 350 words. 

Many of you have been our prayer warriors and our champions over the past 6+ years, and for that, we are forever grateful. Each and every one of you who has been along for this crazy ride is so very special to us.
We love you all.

Here goes nothing. Rev your engine. Hold tight to your knickers.

Our Story.

We were married on August 12, 2006.
The day was planned out perfectly. Every detail. Every single moment. The only hiccup was that a monsoon hit the tiny coastal island where we were getting married just minutes before we were to be married. As a result, we got married in the dark, pouring sweat from lack of AC in the tiny historic chapel. We danced. To a tiny boom box powered by a backup generator because the DJ couldn’t play his music due to lack of power. We ate finger sandwiches, because the resort lost power and couldn’t cook our shrimp and grits. The cake melted from the intense heat. The preacher got stuck in the elevator. The fire department came. It was an absolute disaster and it was absolutely beautiful. We danced. We smiled. And we laughed.

Our guests kept waiting for us to fall apart, but we never did. We were married, we had each other, and that was all that mattered. In that instant, God’s Grace swept over us and carried us.

Little did we know that this lesson was going to be an integral part of our marriage for the next 5-6 years.

Soon after we returned from our honeymoon, Chris got sick. Really sick. We didn’t know what was wrong. The doctors couldn’t even figure it out. In the meantime, he broke his back (Rugby players are not in fact, made of steel). During his recovery from major back surgery, his company closed. their. doors. And just like that, another tiny monsoon hit our marriage. But we laughed. We ate Raman noodles. And we laughed.

After months of unemployment, Chris landed an incredible new career with a marketing firm who represented Glock, the handgun company. He flew out for his first business trip one early Monday morning in October. He got to Hartsfield, went through security, and accidentally forgot that he was carrying a loaded handgun. In his backpack.

True Story.

Monsoon? Um, yes please. I’m telling you, we couldn’t make these things up if we tried.

Turns out “accidentally” forgetting that you have a handgun in your backpack while checking in for a business flight, does not, in fact, sit well with the TSA people. He was arrested, booked in Clayton County, and his frantic (now pregnant) wife did the only thing I knew how to do. I made two phone calls. The first to Kevin Queen, our campus pastor, the second to a good attorney.

And we laughed.

We experienced the greatest joy in all the world during those next few months. We welcomed our firstborn son, our little pistol britches, Super Coop, into this world. But not without a near death delivery experience. And we laughed.
3 weeks after Coop was born, Chris went for a routine physical. As you can imagine, at this point, we had come to realize that there was just about nothing “routine” about our sweet marriage. A week later, he was diagnosed with cancer.

We cried. We hit our knees. And we got swept away by God’s amazing grace once more.

That year was the hardest year of our marriage. Seeing Chris fight the good fight was one of the most humbling experiences I have ever had as a wife. From the second he was diagnosed, we prayed that God would be glorified. “No matter what, God, be glorified.” And He was. Oh He was.
Mid chemotherapy, Chris’ gun case went to trial. It would have been over sooner, but it had to go through the Supreme Court. Of course it did.

By the grace of God, the case was finally resolved. I watched my bald headed husband stand in that court room, chemo port and all, tears streaming from my face, and knew that God called us to be courageous. He called us to walk with Him and to make his Power known, no matter what circumstances we were dealing with.

The day before Chris’ last cancer treatment, his brother was killed instantly in an automobile accident. 2 days before his 30th birthday. Again, we hit our knees.

The next few years were quiet. For the most part. As quiet as a quiet moment is in the Davis house.

In January 2012 we discovered we were going to be parents once again. We were filled with joy, overcome with God’s grace once more. Little did we know that we would soon lose our baby girl before we would even get the chance to meet her.

Our marriage is absolutely beautiful to me. It’s not perfect. It’s not always glamorous (clearly). No matter what kind of chaos may find us (because it will), we always know that God is sovereign. We know, in our heart of hearts, that He has brought us to (and through) such extreme circumstances all to glorify Him. And that is a mighty beautiful thing.

We have never driven a Corvette. Or done donuts together. But every single time we see a roundabout, we take an extra spin…or 3...or 7.

And we laugh. Always have, always will.
“The rain came down. The streams rose. And the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. Matthew 7:25

Monday, February 25, 2013

Blog Fog

I've been in a Blog Fog.

It's been good, so good, but I sure do miss this little thing.

I had my hissyfit. I had my Come-To-Jesus moment (in Vegas, no less).

And I came home and got busy savoring every second of this sweet life. I finally let go of the "life" I had once envisioned and began to focus on the beautiful life God has called us to.

Divine. That's all I can say. I had no idea how to even begin to surrender my own human desires and to lay them down for whatever mighty plan God has for us. I finally begged him to take them away. Just take them. Everything I was holding onto, laid down at His feet. I didn't think it was possible. But with Him, anything is. Anything.

We went to the circus today.

Coop miraculously traded in his love for all things trains this week and developed a love for all things dragons. When we realized that the circus was dragon themed, we knew we had to go.

It was magical.

All 4 hours of it. 'Cept for the clowns, Coop says.

The minute we walked into the arena and saw the precious look on Coop's little face and smelled the elephants and saw the light up swords, I was transported to another place in time. I was sitting next to my big brother (who I'd still give my left arm to talk to even just one more time), crunching on my snow cone in my lion circus mug, watching the clowns climb in and out of the clown car jalopy.

My memory is a joke. I can't even remember what I ate for breakfast before we left this morning. But the very second I took in the sights of the circus, I was flooded with vivid memories. I instantly felt the urge to call my mom and dad and to thank them for giving us those sweet memories. I burst into tears realizing, now as a parent, what it means to provide special experiences to your little ones. Indescribable.

My tears came to a screeching halt the minute I realized that there was a grown man, wearing purple glitter spandex, in the middle of a cage full of lions and tigers. I could barely peep at the center ring, never mind sport glitter spanx and wave a whip around in front of hundreds of people, because, well I nearly wet my knickers all the way over in section 106, row v. Y'all.

Then the trios came out on their motorcycles. On a high wire. And flipped upside down. And then there were the Hair Hanging Wonders. Twisting and swirling WHILE they hung upside down by their pony tails, juggling. I got knocked on my tush with vertigo laying flat on my back in bed fast asleep this year, remember? These people are c.r.a.z.y. And I love them.

Question though. What on earth do they put as their "occupations" when they fill out paperwork at the doctor or when purchasing a home or a new car? "Hair twirler"? "Aeriel Artist"? I am secretly hoping one will come to CHOA so I can see just how that translates onto pen and paper.

All I want to do is wear one of those jazzy unitards and drink sweet tea from the safety of our front porch. Risk taker, I am not.

I sat there, watching Coop's little eyes sparkle and realized that it doesn't matter if you are a family of 3 or a family of 33, aabundant joy surrounds us each and every day. We just have to stop planning what we think it looks like and seek the divine joy He has set in motion for us.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Vegas 2.0

Vegas 2.0 Top Ten
We had a complete ball y'all.
I scribbled down a few of my favorites on the {acapalla-less} plane ride home last night and wanted to jot down them down here so that I will always remember the highlights of this trip. Because it was so stinkin' highlightable. Loved every second of it.
I scurried off post hissyfit, decided that God creates gaps in our lives for distinct purposes, searched for Him amongst people watching and fried pickles, and came back in a sweet, peaceful, resolute place.
Isn't that the craziest thing?

I had a come to Jesus meeting with myself and decided that I do not want to be defined [or defeated] by our struggle with infertility anymore. The struggle's not over for absolute certain, but I realized that I have missed the mark. I'm not even sure how I got here, but I know God is calling me to something greater than hissyfits thrown in the parking lot of Hobby Lobby. Remember when I recently posted that He calls us to run the race with perseverance but also with joy and humility? That thought has resonated within me for the past week and I just can't seem to shake it. What good is it to run the race {and win it}, if I don't do so with the very Grace {and gracefullness} that He has given me?

He has showered us with blessings that we once only hoped for and instead of wishing away these days, I'm going to marvel at His greatness, thank Him, and lean on Him. It's never too late to recognize all the good that He has done for us and while I guess I don't necessarily need Big Girl Panties for the occasion, I do need to take off my Control Freak under-drawers and remember that He is writing our story, not me.

Pen down. Deep breath.

So here goes, my top 10 favorite moments: 

1. Soaking in the bath...and watching tv. At the same time. Whaaat?? I did it. 3 times.
2. Plucking approximately 1589 eyebrows (that somehow do not exist in Georgia) under the glow of the 100x magnification and illumination vanity mirror. Yes. I took a picture of it. Better believe we will be Googling this for our bathroom counter at home.
3. Fried pickles at the Grand Lux.
4. Gap Curvy Jeans. Before hopping on the plane to Vegas, I had one pair of jeans. ONE. I discovered Gap's 1969 Curvy Sexy Jean, with the help of a local drag queen/Gap clerk, and haven't looked back. He also talked me into some sparkle lip gloss. Smack!

5. Speaking of all things pants, I dove head first and snatched up my very first pair of Jeggings. And only 6 years too late. No more fold-tuck-roll-stuff just to get into a pair of tall boots.

6. Frrrrozen hot chocolate. I wasn't being overly dramatic with my "r"s. They really spell it that way. I heart Serendipity's.
{We were so. stinkin. tired. this particular morning. Apparently 4am doesn't look so pretty the next day at 10am when your sippin' frohotchoc. Sigh}

7. Rock of Ages. 80's Big Hair meets Jazz Hands. Broadway's interpretation of all things spandex and Whitesnake. Love. Love. Love. I am still fist pumping and it's been 2 days.
8. Cupcake Collision. I prefer to call it Cupcake Tsunami. Holy chocolate. A close second to frrrrrozen hot choc at Serendipity's.

9. Remote control roman shades. I'm serious. How much fun are those bad boys and where on earth can I order them in Atlanta?!

10. Falling in love with my sweet husband all over again. Truly, this trip was amazing. Sneaking away for a few days and reconnecting was just what we needed. Vegas shenanigans and all...The fact that he watched Miss America with me (we still can't get over grown women tap dancing and twirling batons), let me practice my Broadway moves all hours of the night, and pretended not to notice when I bumped the heat up several times a day in his ice box hotel room, he's my bombdiggity.
Love him to pieces.

Remember last year when I texted my friend Jill to tell her that I saw nekkid girls dancing in the hotel lobby and smoked a faux cig only to accidentally send it to my mother-in-law? That my friends, is why I did not text anything about anything this weekend. You know what they say...

What happens in Vegas...

Friday, January 11, 2013


A few weeks ago we had one of our super favorite date nights. We ate dinner at Ricos (shocker), rented a Red Box, and ate cake [in bed]. It was glorious. I was in charge of the Red Box, so I selflessly picked "Pitch Perfect". Because it was about baseball and C would love it.

Um. Turns out, notsomuch MLB (oopsiedaisies) but aca-awesome! An entire movie about acapella super nerds taking the pitch pipe by storm with Fat Amy, I mean, Patricia prancing around in all her fabulous sassiness.


Chris kept mumbling something about it being, aca-awful but belly laughed right along with me. Don't lie ChrisDavis.  You laughed. Especially when Fat Amy said she was horizontal running.

Totally reignited my love for all things acapella. So much that I sucked Super Coop into my YouTube searches for sing offs. He's so stinking cute and impressionable, he dove right in with me.

Ok so fast forward. It's Friday night and this mama is on board a flight to Las Vegas, surrounded by a group of ridiculous geeksters hitting the city for some sort of ill Hangover III attempt. One of them smells like a Krystal burger. They are so loud and aca-nnoying that I have to keep turning around and giving them the Mom Glare. Every 3-4 minutes one of them hollers out something that sounds like "SILAS". What on Gods green earth does that mean and why hasn't the plain clothed Air Marshall kicked them in the ball sacks yet?

Then it happened.

They broke out into the 12 Days of Christmas. On January 11th no less. Acapella style. For serious.

I quietly put my Mom Glare back in my Vera Bradley tote and my tolerance for their potty mouths and foul smelling cheeseburger cologne increased ten fold.

I have to tell you, getting mad and pitching my hissyfit has prove to be one of the most therapeutic and beautiful things that's ever happened to me. It's made me seek Him though I wanted to scream and shout. To draw near to Him when I wanted to run away. To thank Him when I wanted to beg and plead with Him.

 I realized that we have to not only run the race with endurance [even when we want to whine and kick over small store displays], but we also have to run the race with joy. No matter the circumstances.

Vegas better watch out, this Sugar Britches is about to drink boatloads of Frozen Hot Chocolate, shop every single floor of H&M five times over, and soak up all the good God has given us.

Thank you all for loving us, in spite of us, and for encouraging us every step of the way.

If you need me, I'll be at the slot machines. Or maybe on the gondola.

Ok who'm I kidding? I'll be at the Gap.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013


I have spent the past few weeks throwing the biggest hissyfit fit.

I've been rotten.


Down right ugly.

We got the news over Christmas that Chris needed to start some new injections over at the Cancer Answer. The kudzu is NOT back, hear me, praises praises praises unending for that absolute miracle. I mean it. My gratitude for that is unwavering. Always will be.

And my gratitude that these treatments will restore my sweet hubs spirit and strength is abundant. It truly truly is.

Without saying a whole whole lot, I'm just tired. Isn't that the whiniest thing on the planet for me to say? I have to fight the urge to lay in the floor and wallow and cry out that nothing ever seems to come easy for us.

The beauty of that is that God never said it would be easy. I am forever grateful that He is our "constant" and somehow manages to reign over every little thing that we interpret as a "bump" in the road. And the best part is that He is in the middle of making something mighty and grand out of what we consider "trials" *insert overly dramatic sigh and slightly annoyed eye roll*.

But I still got mad.

Sugar Britches gone cranky tank.

Not at God. Even though I shouted at Him twice when he woke me up INVOLUNTARILY to call out to Him at five o'clock in the morning. I told Him I would give up sweet tea for 31 days to be still and stop crunching ice long enough to hear Him out. The third day He woke me up with silly praise songs streaming through my head, I decided I would take my sweet tea right back.

You can't have my sweet tea and my sleep.

My friend Amy said I should rename Sugar Britches "Sweet Tea and Devil Eyes". Cause those were the eyes I shot at the Target clerk right after I almost kicked over an entire display of family planning products.

Right after I screamed and pounded my fists in the parking lot of Hob Lob.

In the midst of my bitter chaos I can hear God whispering over me that He's not done with us yet and that He's going to make all things new and beautiful.

Isn't that the craziest thing?!

I'm being ugly, God. I'm shouting and acting like a crazed beau font Toddler and Tiaras baby when she learned she didn't win grand supreme.

My spirit of gracefulness is so far from me right now. I've decided until I get it back, it's ok to scream. And shout. And get my panties in a wad. And cry. And holler. And knock over (small) displays if I need to. I have a God who has promised to love me through it.

And that's what faith is to me, seeing the mighty hand of God in the midst of our own human uncertainty and ugliness. Knocks the sweet tea right out of my cup every time I think about it.

With love and smooches,
Founder and CEO of Sweet Tea and Devil Eyes Whimsical Gifts

(PS did I seriously come down with Scarlet Fever in the midst of all of this? Why yes, thank you, I did.)

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

2012 ReMix

I have about a gazillion things I could blog about but I haven't had sweet tea in 23 hours and I'm already Jonesin, so this'll be interesting.

My bet is that I'll be screeching into the Chickfila drive thru at 7am tomorrow ordering a medium (with extra ice).

Lots of sweet blessings in 2012. We are counting them one by one and recounting them again and again for good measure.
In 2012, we sipped frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity’s in Las Vegas, discovered the beauty of lollipops in the bathtub, celebrated our little man, Super Coop, turning TWO with a ‘stache bash to remember, carried Ella Grace for a little bit and learned how to walk with Grace even when we wanted to fall apart, discovered Target Food Court Nachos, ate at Rico’s 57 times (that’s once a week plus a few), celebrated TWO years of hubs kickin’ kudzu to the curb (God is mighty!), got hooked on Honey Boo Boo and Duck Dynasty and lost a few too many hours watching both, scooted off to Gulf Shores and Litchfield by the Sea to soak up the sun and sea, hit our knees in prayer for two particular sweet miracle babies, Baby Parker and Baby Emma, started up Sugar Britches and discovered the beauty of all things monogrammed, celebrated yet another fabulous Thanksmas with our sweet family in the mountains, and soaked up the JOY of Christmas under the glow of the twinkle lights.
This 2013, we rejoice in the fact that God makes all things new. Isn't that a mighty beautiful thing!?
Happy New Years sweet friends! May this year bring you abundant blessings and unending joy.