Recipient of Goodness – Thanksgiving 2017

My favorite Sunday of the year is Testimony Sunday, the Sunday before Thanksgiving.

This past Sunday was that Sunday.  After three New Lifers shared their very different stories of gratitude and hope, Pastor Rich told us that being grateful, simply saying “thanks,” is different from living a life marked by gratitude.

He shared this definition of gratitude:  *Gratitude is a knowing awareness that we are the recipients of goodness.*

As Thanksgiving and my firstborn’s birthday is upon us, I wanted to shout out Olive, who is a living, cooing reminder that we have received a tangible outpouring of goodness Memorial Sunday 2017:

Dear Olive Hope Kim,

Thank you for being Thanksgiving personified for our family this year.

During tough times, choosing to be grateful all the dang time was a challenge, a challenge I wanted to rebel against.  Other times, it is too easy.

This year, you make it too easy.  When I think of you, see you, smell you, hear you, let you sleep in my armpit when you creep over from your crib, you mark me with gratitude. Even now, you are perched on your tummy on your playmat next to me as I type and when we meet eyes, you beam at me.

I just saw a picture on Facebook from a few years ago, a picture of our family of four, when you were just a fantasy I thought I needed to put to bed because…c’mon now!

Thank you for joining us.  Thank you for allowing us to experience baby joy all over again.  Thank you for filling our cluttered household with awe, even with the overstuffed diaper bag that your dad went from saying, “Never again.  It is finished,” to “Do we have enough diapers in there?”

When I see your brothers surround you, joke with you, hold you, my hands raise to the heavens as a reflex.  Thank You, thank You, thank You, Lord.

Thank you for making it seem like there was never a time before you.  Thank you for reminding us that there is still good and blessing in this world as I watch terrible current events unfold.  While I was watching news about the Vegas shooting on 10/2, the morning after your Ellis brother’s 5th birthday, you rolled over for the first time.  What a contrast:  the evil that lurks everywhere and a still-pure you, rolling over in the safety of our cozy apartment.

Watching you grow into a real human will be one of the top five periods of my life I will reminisce about in my old age.  Sure, I’m tired and now that it’s cold, I’m carrying All the Jackets and I can’t get past the tables at the library or in the aisles of T.J. Maxx.

Some days, especially from school pick-up through bedtime, I want to yell or actually yell at your excitable brothers who seem to have hearing problems when I speak.  Then I’ll catch a glimpse of you lying around in some corner of our living room, beaming like we are celebrities, or searching the room with your bright eyes, moaning for somebody to come poke you in the belly or just pay you some mind, and then I’ll be back at Thank You, thank You, thank You, Lord.

Right now, there is no separate Olive and Mommy.  You are an extension of me wherever I go.  Even at church, when Daddy asks to hold you, I miss you and I want to feel your warm body back in my arms, gazing at me and punching my chest as you nurse.

Your precious infanthood is already almost halfway done and it isn’t hard for me to cherish every moment, as the cliche goes, because I now know all too well how fast it goes before I’m chasing you at the playground and trying not to say something I’ll regret.

Under a Friendsgiving tarp this past Sunday, with the rain beating down, your dad decided to dance with you while he was holding you.  He told me that he got teary-eyed as he imagined dancing with you decades down the line, Lord willing, perhaps under a tarp with loved ones, and you still beaming at him.

I’m done typing now so I can hold you, our Thanksgiving star.  Publishing now before our laptop crashes again.

Love,

Mommy

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Family Fun at the Farm (after attitude adjustments)

This weekend was perfect.

Not because we spontaneously skipped the boys’ Saturday activities to catch the last weekend of our favorite pumpkin patch, or because of Sunday’s storm accompanied by Kevin’s homemade pho, or the video game-like World Series Game 5 between the Dodgers and the Astros providing much excitement and bonding for everyone across the country late Sunday night.

The forecast showed that Saturday would be in the 60s before Sunday’s storm and though I craved rest, AND I didn’t want the boys to miss their Saturday sports, I couldn’t pass up this last chance to take Olive to our favorite pumpkin patch for her first visit.  We hadn’t missed a year yet for maybe the past four years?

But this would require effort.  Effort beyond scrounging up something to wear these days for my still postpartum body.

Grabbing all the costumes, refilling the diaper bag, packing extra blankets for Olive, charging the camera, finding and charging the selfie stick (which we never used once we got there), and other mundane but necessary To Do’s.  I even insisted on M and E getting haircuts before we headed out because I can’t stand looking at shaggy hair in my holiday photos.

Kevin took them to the car first because I can’t hear myself think when we’re trying to head out.  I packed a final tote bag of more stuff, to add to the corned beef and PB&J samiches I had packed during their haircuts and Olive’s morning nap.

I was already sweating from getting ready and I had grown irritated that getting out the apartment was harder in part because we had to repeat ourselves.  The boys were hurting my supersonic ears and Kevin reported back that the boys had fought the entire way down and had gotten in his way AGAIN at the garage steps, where he has to hoist the Snap n Go to level ground.

By the time I got into the passenger seat, I warned them that I was NOT having it:

“It’s already hard for our bigger family to get out the door but when you guys don’t listen, and get in our way, it makes it harder and it is NOT okay.  You guys know better and can do better.  You have to choose the right thing.  Mommy doesn’t even feel like going any more when you fight and make it harder to leave.  When it’s already hard, you should say, ‘How can we help?’ rather than make it harder.  And if you can’t help, at least don’t make it worse.

Now, I won’t force it but can someone other than Mommy or Daddy pray for me and for the rest of the day?  If we want to go, we can’t go like this.”

I was sure that they would sulk so I was surprised when M volunteered.  “Please Lord, help us to listen better and to break the cycle.  Thank You for letting us go together and please keep us safe.”

I am all too familiar with going to fun destinations and having a horrible time because we weren’t able to break the cycle of conflict and emotional turmoil before or during a special event so *THIS* was the highlight of my weekend, as awesome as the rest of it was.

This gift of UNDERSTANDING at a young age that just because you messed up, it doesn’t mean you have to stay in it and sabotage the rest of the day in order to subconsciously or consciously match it up to the initial jacked up-ness.  The kids are grasping this idea that at any moment of any given day, THEY have to power to redirect themselves.  There is always more grace and His mercies are not just new every morning but every moment.

I didn’t live this out myself until recently, after about five years of struggling in our marriage and now that I’m doing much better, this day at the pumpkin patch started off on the right vibe and the picture perfect moments were truly that.  Also, as third-time parents, knowing how crazy I get about preserving ALL the moments, we intentionally practiced the art of taking a deep breath and saying, “That’s enough picture-taking.  Let’s just take stop and enjoy.”

So, Olive turned five months old at the pumpkin patch and as the third child, she is inheriting an emotionally healthier family.

Here are some photos:

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She-Hulk Makes Tater Tots

This always happens.

When the boys are climbing where they shouldn’t or being too loud, I quickly go to “Calgon, Take Me Away” daydreams but when they are at school, I miss them.

I’m now laughing on the inside thinking about yesterday.

Yesterday was MY witching hour around 5 pm when I was making dinner and shuffling Baby O somewhere she can be part of our family scene but also out of brothers’ way.

I heard myself repeatedly bellowing, “Get out your homeworks NEE-OW! If Mommy has to ask again, you will regret it!”  In my frustration, I had forgotten the boys’ request to never pronounce “NOW” as “NEE-OW!!”  So you know Mama wasn’t having it.

Then I started judging myself because I knew I was becoming cranky when they were just being kids.

The boys had walked with me and Olive in her Snap n Go, from school to doctor to playground in yesterday’s weirdly-windy-but-not-yet-cold weather.

Everything took longer than I had imagined.  The doctor’s office staff seemed like they just did not want to deal with people, period.

And this is the easy phase as Olive has never had a diaper blowout or even needed me to change her during afterschool play.  All she does is coo and beam at us, our family mascot.

But the boys never just “walk” with me.  They gallop, run, pick berries and rocks, trailing far behind me even after I say, “If you behind me, someone can take you and I won’t even know!  A dark van can roll up looking for two Asian boys to snatch and I won’t even know if you don’t walk ahead of me!”

I knew I was getting cranky when I had to repeat myself, “Don’t run on the grass. People leave dog poop there!” By the time I had to repeat myself for the third time, sarcasm had kicked in, “Please continue on the grass!  Don’t even think about walking on the sidewalk.  Enjoy the fresh poop you will step in.” (I did manage to laugh when Micah pointed out, “But Mommy, that one poop is shaped EXACTLY like a duck!”  It was.)

By the time dinner and homework had to be done, I just wanted to sit down and do nothing.  Crack my toe knuckles and be done.  But we had the busiest hours coming up – dinner, homework, baths, clean up, prepare for the next day.

Every request was annoying me.

“Mommy, can we have some tater tots with the galbi?”

Sigh.  I could have said no but their galbi dinner could have used some potato.

“Sure, let me turn the oven on. And lemme warn you that Mommy is cranky because I’m just really tired. Can you pray for me so that I don’t She-Hulk?”

“Dear God, please help our mom not become She-Hulk.  Thank You.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

“Thank you, my beauties.”

Boys are whispering to each other, cupping ears. They both come up to me, beaming. Ellis is the appointed spokesperson for this exchange:

“Mommy, WE APPWEECIATE YOU!…Can we have some tater tots?”

“Thank you so much for telling me you appreciate me especially when Mommy is cranky.  That means so much to me.

Now, I said I have to first warm up the oven so yes to the tater tots but NO to asking me again. For some reason, Mommy gets annoyed when I am already making the food and you guys ask about it, aight?  Please be patient.”

16 minutes later:

“Mommy, I’m not asking about the tater tots, right?”

Epilogue: I took a 30 minute nap at 7 pm and emerged only with a growling belly and no trace of She-Hulk.

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At doc office:  “Come, let’s take a picture of you three.  I haven’t taken a Big Three picture in a while.”

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Dramatically awaiting M’s flu shot

My First Chuseok Birthday

Thankfully, birthdays are just once a year.  Makes it all the more special.

Any more frequent and I wouldn’t be able to recognize myself, oozing entitlement and extra fat:

“If I want left over chow fun for my first meal, the last of the chow fun I was saving for my ‘fat noodoo’-loving second son, I shall eat that chow fun.  It can’t always be about the kids.

And if that handful of beef chow fun doesn’t look like it’s going to fill me up, I shall help myself to some leftover pizza as well.

Oh, and I don’t want to take care of x, y, and z today.  SO I WON’T.  It’s my birfday!  I see Kevin over there, tryna regulate the boys but I will just sit here.  It’s my birfday and only a few hours left.”

This birthday was a breath of fresh air as I didn’t have to hustle for my worth all day.  I seem to give myself permission to not hustle when I am sick or on special occasions like my birthday.  This year, I was sick on my birthday.

I woke up feeling moved to tears, grateful to be alive, for the breath in my lungs, for the beaming baby in the bassinet she has outgrown, and for the family members climbing in to our King to wish me a happy birthday.

The world is grieving after major hurricanes hit Texas, Florida and most recently, the entire island of Puerto Rico.  People are suffering and our President does not know how to show compassion and respect as he throws paper towels at the people of Puerto Rico, like a big buffoon mistaking the gathering to be a sports event.

A few nights ago, as we tucked in our newly minted five year old on his birthday, an American terrorist killed at least 59 people at a concert in Vegas, in what has been reported as “the deadliest mass shooting in modern U.S. history.”  Thankful for small graces as we were spared news of this horror until the next morning, when it was no longer E’s birthday.

For the first time that I can recall or maybe the first time ever, my birthday landed on the same day as Chuseok, Korean Thanksgiving.  It also landed on the same day or around the same time as friend’s losses.  I honored life, in all of its beauty, its fragility, its robustness and its unpredictability.  As cheesy as it is, I was so grateful to be alive.

I am jotting this down so that I can look back and recall that on this birthday, I was blessed with:

-a friend’s visit, her arms full of a ridiculous amount of hand-me-downs for Olive, along with a cupcake for Mama and a welcome gift for Olive,

-my kids’ cards and the accompanying innocence and confidence that those sheets of markered up paper would more than suffice (and they did),

-hearing from friends throughout the entire day,

-my mom singing me “Happy Birthday” on FaceTime and then getting embarrassed when I said oh, a friend is over right now,

-Kevin’s gifts and insistence on getting my own cake even though I texted him “No need for cake.  We have Ellis’ leftovers.  Don’t want to start forest (hills) fire.”  He didn’t get my reference to my mature age and forest fire due to number of candles and texted back, “Fire in FH?”

-Kevin’s surprise of surf and turf at home.  Surf – he picked up my faves, fried softshell crab and oysters.  Turf – he made us all galbi-jjim (braised short rib).

-I got to say a birthday prayer as I blew out my candles with my family surrounding me, including the new kid I am cross-eyed in love with.  Then she went to bed easily in her too-small bassinet so that Daddy and I can watch some TV.

It was a simple and gorgeous birthday I hope to always remember.  Gorgeous in its simplicity.  My heart is still bursting with gratitude.

Happy Chuseok!

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I love hand-me-downs!

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I love softshell crab and oysters.  I would stick candles into seafood if I could.

 

 

 

The Power of “Me, Too”

Two weekends ago, I had to call my girlfriend from Six Flags to pray for and with me.  Because we’ve had our own disjointed, shorthand, can-talk-over-each-other language since seventh grade, she is the only friend I can still call without feeling like I am disrupting someone’s busy weekend, even though I *was* disrupting her as she set up for her daughter’s birthday party.

As soon as I heard her voice, I started crying, still holding Olive, first trying to find half a bench to sit on, then pacing so that I can have some privacy away from the benched Funnel Cakers.  I was holding her awkwardly, trying to keep her out of the sun while the sun kept following us.

After wasting our time yelling at each other and NOT hearing each other, Kevin had taken the boys to a different section of the park.  I felt abandoned but looking back, it allowed me to catch my breath and stop raging in front of the kids.

I was grateful that Olive was too young to later say, “Remember that time Mommy was crying at Six Flags?”

I continued to my friend:

“…on top of all that, I am now spiraling, feeling like WTF is wrong with me, looking around this dang park with today’s perfect SoCal-like weather and everyone taking selfies, Funnel Caking and heeheehee, able to enjoy themselves.

I feel like a f*cking failure ‘cuz I couldn’t put our fight on pause like a mature ass adult and parent but girl, I just felt so unheard and still do.  No matter how many times I tried, I could NOT just ‘snap out it,’ take a deep breath and re-emerge as Mom who is able to Funnel Cake and Batman ride right now!”

My friend and I talked over each other, which is what we do.  I told her that rehashing it won’t get us anywhere so let’s just pray.  But before she prayed, she shared with me, “STOP!  Stop it.  LOOK, I been there!  And it is OK that you couldn’t collect yourself to take your kids to the rides as a family.  It’s not fair to put such a time pressure on yourself for being OK.  It’s OK to show your kids that Mommy had to go collect herself and yes, even at Six Flags.  And if you think you the only one melting down, trust me.  Some of these families you comparing yourself to?  They already had their meltdowns on the way in or will have them later as they leave.”

She also shared just how “been there” she been, which helped spare me from beating myself up even more.  All while speed-talking before her girl’s birthday party.

Of course, as a friend, she couldn’t just co-sign on all my bad habits.  She did acknowledge that I can work on some thangs, but she let me know that I was not the only mom who had failed.  In this age where phone calls are obsolete, I’m so glad I was able to reach her.

Also, this past week, I’ve been chatting online with some dear mom friends and the power and beauty of that chat was all in the “Me, too.”

Sometimes, a “Me, too” is more life-giving than any, “I’ll pray for you” or “Have you ever considered…?” or “At least you…”  (Actually, no one enjoys an “At least you…” ever).

And I don’t know why my self-talk can be so damn mean.  “Snap out of it” is the worst message, something I would never tell anyone else after being told that when I suffered from clinical depression decades ago.

I don’t know about others but I am my own harshest critic and I would like to work on that.  If I don’t check myself and remind myself aloud, like Stuart Smalley on SNL, my negative self-talk can be downright fatal.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“How come other moms don’t experience such a range of emotions?  Why are you so extra?!”

“How come I’m not more like Kevin?  He can handle so much more.”

“How is that other mom so damn calm?  Does she ever yell?!”

And in the darkest moments, “What if my kids are better off without me?”

I’ve constantly asked myself, even on this blog, why I am prone to confessions while some are never prone to any self-deprecation.

I think I’ve always been drawn to the power of “Me, too,” to help others (and myself) know that we are ALL broken.

Sometimes, I hear church folk talkin’ about how we are all broken but for the life of me, I can’t imagine this person in front of me ever breaking down.  So when someone shares their weakness, it is downright life-giving.

This is why I can relate to addicts and recovery programs, though I have not been an addict myself – the opportunity and ability to share low moments with each other, to remind each other regularly that we all struggle.

And to be clear, “Me, too” is not to be mistaken for having a pity party where we bring each other down and stay there, or excuse bad habits together but to remind each other that we can be imperfect, that there is always more grace.

We can fail in big and small ways, but as long as breathe air in and out of our different-shaped nose holes, we can seek redemption for moments and narratives we want to shed.  And one thing is for sure:  we will mess up again, and His mercies abound.

Lamentations 3:21-23 “But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”

 

Precious Moments

As I grow older, I am realizing time is as much of a commodity as money.  In some cases, more.

Right now, I have to use the bathroom but I want to write so badly before Olive wakes up from her mini-nap.  I would choose writing over eating, depending on my mood that day.

Once Olive is up, we have to be on our way to fetch the boys who will stick their sweaty heads into her Snap N Go to give her kisses all over her chubby face as I repeat myself, “Give her space!  She is a person!  Here’s some Purell!”

Hours later, I will get to hand the three off to Daddy as soon as he gets off the subway to release me to Parent Engagement Night, aka Back to School night.

As packed as our days (and nights) are, I can tell these are the very days Empty Nesters will remind us to enjoy every moment of.

I’m not sure what I want my blog to be.  I often wish I could be the blogger who writes about tips on taking trips with kids, or recipes, or other how to’s but I’m not wired that way.  I am prone to confessing, sharing too much, and talking about my inner life, aka being a Non-Monetizing Blog.

My kids take my breath away.  I won’t be able to share much as they get older but for now, I can still share these mundane but meaningful moments:

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Photo #1: Alone but Together

My big one wanted to assert his independence by riding alone on the kiddie ride this past weekend at Six Flags.  This was a precious moment as Ellis and I beamed when our ride would line up with Micah’s and Micah would beam back with his one missing tooth.  I will carry that moment in my heart and hopefully conjure it up when they are pre-teens.

He wanted to be on his own but did not find it uncool yet to be thrilled to see us next to him.

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Photo #2:  I Spy with My Blue-Lashed Eye

“Micah, can you make sure Olive…”

“Yeah, I’m already holding her hand and foot so she knows she isn’t alone.  I checked to make sure the sun is not in her eyes.  She has some tears on her cheeks so I wiped them.  She has some on her lashes, too.  And I’m gonna sing to her now.”

Though Big Boy and I butt heads from being wired too similarly during our low moments, he blessed me so much when he told me yesterday, unprompted:

“I appreciate you taking us to the library program even though it was crowded and loud.  I’m proud of you, Mommy.”  HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAY.

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Photo #3:  These are the Days of Our Lives

When there is a new baby on the scene, folks immediately and naturally relate it to their own stage in life.  “Oh, we are SO done!  I can’t even imagine going through that again!”  “Now we get to travel!  No diaper bags!  We sleep so well.”

It’s been extra busy with Back-to-School events and forms that have got me cross eyed, those darn blue cards with fonts shrinking every year, this time in Spanish first, then nearly invisible English.

Kevin and I have not been able to soul-talk after a big fight because we have to talk about the more mundane but necessary items like how to keep us all clothed, fed, bathed, hydrated, schooled, homeworked, and bedtimed, and other -ed’s.  And yet, I can just feel that these are the very best, most tender days of our lives, while the kids are still so pure and while we are still not decrepit.

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Photo #4:  My Olive Royl at 3.5 months old, post Baek-Il

Cracking us up by being so calm, down for every family adventure, suddenly drooly like Biggest Bro was, sucking on her whole fist and wrist like she workin’ on a jokbal (Korean roasted, seasoned Pig Foot).  She has moved on from smiling to trying out this sound called Laughter and splashing lots in the bath.  I must capture on video.

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Photo #5:  Don’t Forget Me, Mommy!

My Middle has expressed that he would like to be born again so that Mommy can love him again as a baby.  Awwww.  Imagine being snuggled so much until a smaller, cuter thang arrives out of your mom’s swoll belly, monopolizing her time, energy, and teat.

With three kids, there isn’t as much of Mommy and Daddy to go around.  I pray that we can still make each FEEL loved.

Olive is up and we must get going.  Thank You Lord for each moment.  Please give us more energy for the second half of our day.

Behold: New Things Have Sprung Forth

I know the timing of this post sucks. Hurricane Harvey hit Houston about a week ago and now Floridians are bracing themselves for Hurricane Irma.

So I feel sheepish and rude to share that while catastrophes swirl about on our green globe, in my personal life, I am happy. Quite possibly the happiest I have ever been.

I recently realized that I respond to “How are you?” by sharing laments or struggles because that seems to be the easier way to connect to others. I know I can’t connect to someone if they only share green pastures, Happy Happy Joy Joy, perhaps because there is no risk involved in sharing only the shiny moments.

But because I am the opposite and lead with difficulties first, I want to work on sharing praises more, without worrying that others might be like, “Well, congrats to you, bitch. Can’t relate.”

I’m repeating myself but having a baby at 40 was an answer to a couple years’ worth of prayers, asking, “Please remove this impractical desire for a third baby OR somehow work it out for our family as I am consumed by this desire.” I shared before that Kevin had a vision from God and it was realized when I conceived at the age of 39.

Sure, we are tired because we have a wide-eyed baby with no official bedtime yet, in addition to two growing, active boys who need our attention, in some ways more than when they were babies. But even in that sharp tiredness, we sing and laugh each night, as our cheeky girl shimmies to our pitchy serenades.

We shake our greying heads in amazement that she has joined us when for years, she was a fantasy I tried to excise, only joking about it, wiggling my eyebrows and quipping at Costco, “I’mma just buy some prenatal vitamins, eh? My obsession won’t go away,” and Kevin saying, “Not funny.”

Also, after many of our weekends were devoted to house-searching, our prayers for a house were answered in the form of, “Nope, NOT YET!” Surprisingly, staying in our imperfect town has added to my happiness. I appreciate living closer to couple close friends, our non-family village.

Just a few weeks ago, we moved to a slightly more spacious apartment in the very town we wanted to graduate from, and we love our new amenities.

We sit on our tiny terrace to have family dinner together while the weather is still gorgeous. Kevin and I people-watch. We saw a dad screaming at his kid because the kid didn’t listen, causing some groceries to spill out. Now that we are parents, we completely judged the kid and commentated, “He should have listened. How many times the poor dad gotta repeat himself!?”

Biggest quality of life update: We have a second bathroom. Glory be! Even with such upgrades, by the grace of God alone, I remain down-to-earth puahahaha.

Because we live a quick jog away from our old co-op, we were able to drop by twice before we gave it up completely. Though we outgrew that space almost as soon as we moved in in the fall of 2010, all the memories came rushing back as we looked around the vacant space:

My parents, fresh from the airport, walking in to see their first grandchild, just days old, six pounds of fragile newborn, laying in his bassinet.

Another son joining his more laid-back parents two years later.

Hoisting my pregnant self off our high bed once again in 2017 and my water breaking for the first time, to meet our first daughter.

Just as Micah and I became teary-eyed about the memories housed in those 900+ square feet, Olive let out a rare yelp, as if to say, “Enough. Let’s roll out. I only had a couple months of memories here and I’m ready to make more with you guys.”

19″Behold, I will do something new, Now it will spring forth; Will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, Rivers in the desert.”

Isaiah 43:19

Thank You, Lord, for letting us say goodbye in installments, to our old home. And thank You also for new things springing forth. I am so happy and learning to enjoy green pastures. Every good and perfect gift comes from You.

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