It was a good tired.

The past three days have just been exhausting…and good. Very good.

I sang in the choir during each of our church’s five services during the weekend – one on Good Friday, one on Saturday night, three on Sunday morning.

For those of you keeping track, that’s two more days and three more services than a normal weekend.

By the time the preacher clock on the back wall of our sanctuary read 12:20 yesterday, I was TIRED. And please, to get the full effect, hear that just how I’m saying it: “TAHHHHRRRRD.”

And I’m not just talking about my feet. Although, they weren’t feeling good, I’ll tell you that. But thankfully, my choice to wear flats on Sunday paid off. Hey – when you’ve got cute skirt and heels and oh yeah, pain, on one hand and boring pants and um, less pain, on the other, what are YOU going to choose?

My voice was also feeling the strain of singing so much, as was my head. I felt like I’d plain sung my FACE off!

But the most overwhelming feeling I had was an emotional exhaustion. Going from singing serious, somber Good Friday songs to singing high-energy, shout-from-the-rooftops, clap your hands if you’re so inclined (and don’t be mistaken, I am almost NEVER so inclined) resurrection praises – well, that takes it out of a person!

It was a good tired, though. I reflected, I thanked, I praised, I cried, I sang, I laughed. And then we went home, ate a way-more-food-than-any-family-needs lunch with my parents and some new friends from church. And it was good.

(And then it was naptime. And that, also, was good.)

How was your Easter?

Random Readings

Some serious, some funny. This…..[insert Ryan Seacrest pause here]…is Random Readings.

Two takes on why writers write:

• Want to Know the Real Reason Why You Write?
• Loving the Giver More than the Gift

Many bloggers wrote about the anniversary of Audrey Caroline’s birth this week. And many of those posts made me cry. Interestingly enough (because I can’t quite decide if I love this guy’s blog or not), Matthew Paul Turner’s post is the one that truly spoke to me. In the face of a perfect example of our God of grace and mercy letting bad things happen, Turner wrote, “I'm not sure that faith can truly exist without doubt. Doubt is what makes it faith and not science.”

Jo-Lynne writes touching reflections on parenthood, insightful recaps of American Idol and sweet, funny words about everything from kids to entertaining to fashion. But her post called Imperfect Christianity is the most beautiful, clear, convicting thing I’ve read this week. Nothing I can say here could add to it.

And because I just couldn’t bear to leave you with only serious, grown-up thoughts, please don’t miss MSNBC’s Facebook survival guide for awkward adults: What you need to know to avoid embarrassing your kids (and yourself). A few notes from this educational slide show:

• It's theoretically possible to set your privacy settings up so none of this happens, but honestly, you're probably not smart enough.
• In a sufficiently large population, 50 percent of everyone is below average. And now you have to listen to them sound off.
• There is nothing funny to say about Facebook applications.

There you have it, folks. What did you read on the internet this week?

Stellan, Audrey and Maddie

The days following Annalyn’s birth are a blurry memory. Especially the eight days between my discharge from the hospital and hers.

I remember forcing myself to take showers, per the doctor’s orders. And gradually weaning myself off the dozen pillows I’d taken to sleeping with. Daily trips to the hospital, holding a baby I didn’t know…and didn’t know what to do with.

And crying. Between the hormones and the trauma, there was a lot of crying. In fact, I remember being so excited when I finally made it 24 hours without tears.

More than one tearful episode during those days – and in the months to come – centered on the question that plagues my heart even now, even this week: Why did it work out for us? Why am I okay? Why is Annalyn okay?

See, I did not enjoy my visits to my tiny daughter in the NICU. Because while I got to hold her and hear ever-improving reports from the nurses, other families sat in that room, not so fortunate. Other families cried and whispered and let their shoulders drop and their heads hang low.

Because some of those babies weren’t going to be okay. And as more than one nurse told me, it was a miracle that either one of us was so healthy.

And I didn’t understand – still don’t understand – why.

Mark’s response to my tortured question was, “Because God loves us.”

Of course He does. But He loves those other families, those other precious babies, too. I don’t understand.

This week has seen much heartbreak in the blogosphere – and in real people’s real lives. And as I learn about grieving families that have touched so many and are loved by so many, I still don’t understand. Why are some babies okay? Why aren’t the others?

For almost three weeks, MckMama has updated her friends and family on Stellan’s fight with heart troubles. Stellan is just five months old, a miracle baby who wasn’t supposed to live but who has lived indeed. But now he’s got a whole lot of health problems, and his family has been through the wringer with bad news, then good news, then terrible news, then tentatively hopeful news. From what I read, he’s doing better now, and his mom is resting in her faith. Tentative hope returns…

Angie Smith is a new-to-me blogger, but many readers walked with her last year when her sweet baby girl, Audrey Caroline, was born and died on April 7. For the last three months of her pregnancy, Angie carried her daughter, knowing she would not live. And yet, by the grace of God, Angie was able to cling to her faith and in doing so, shared the message of God’s love and His strength with what seems to be most of the blogging world. In honor of Audrey’s birthday, Angie offered a special gift for Compassion on her blog, turning her pain into something beautiful once again.

And finally, the Spohr Family has lost their adorable 17-month-old daughter, Maddie. Maddie was born very early and has had some health complications, but from what I can gather, her death on April 7 was as unexpected as it is heartbreaking. Through this tragedy, though, has emerged a beautiful example of community. All over the blogosphere, people are grieving with this family. And more than that, they’re reaching out in support and raising great amounts of money for March of Dimes in Maddie’s honor.

I still don’t understand. Honestly, I can’t even read every post that these families – and those who love them – have written. It’s too heart-wrenching, too close to home, too much.

Yet even as I watch these situations unfold, peeking through my fingers just like I do when watching Grey’s Anatomy, I can see the beauty, the hope. God is working in these families’ lives and using them to show the truth of His perfect love. Even if I don’t understand.

The problem with cheap chocolate

Photo by OakleyOriginals

I had a brilliant idea to give little Easter baskets to my babysitter’s daughters. Of course, by the time I got to Target, their dollar bins were cleaned out. And since I’m cheap, I ended up with two adorable pastel buckets and two bags of chocolate eggs.

The cheap kind of chocolate eggs. I'm talking 2 for $2.

And the problem? Well, the problem began when I had to do a little quality control – you know, taste test the product to make sure it was suitable for children.

I decided it was not, in fact, suitable for children, especially if said children were only getting a mini bucket of candy and no actual little gifts.

Fortunately, I know how to solve that problem, and now one bag of chocolate eggs is empty.

Because the problem with cheap chocolate is that the flavor is so weak that you need to eat a dozen pieces to satisfy that holiday candy craving.

I think from now on, I’m going to stick to Chelley’s strategy and only buy Dove.

What’s your favorite kind of chocolate?

I guess I would’ve had to sing “Copacabana.”

On my way to work this morning, the radio station’s morning show was discussing age. Specifically, the moment that you officially felt old.

One girl called in and said that she’s 27 and she thinks that everything is downhill after 21. Because, really, at that point, what is there to look forward to?

Wow. I don’t even know what to say about that.

I’ve certainly had times in my life – yes, my long life of 30 years – when I’ve felt old. But after listening to the people calling the station this morning, I realized that, aside from the weeks leading up to my 30th birthday, I don’t really dwell on my oldness. (What do you know, that’s actually a word. At least according to the Dictionary of Microsoft.)

I can think of a couple times recently when I felt old. One was when I read a blog post about the author’s grandfather dying, and in reference to losing family members, she wrote, “I guess I’m getting to that age…”

All I could think was that I’ve been at that age since I was 12 and my grandparents started dying off. Since then, I have had the pleasure of attending a funeral – on average – once a year. I’ve been at “that age” for a while.

The other recent time I felt old? When Smitty asked me if I had plans for a Friday night, and I answered, “The usual.” And I wasn’t even embarrassed to admit that “the usual” was an exciting evening full of Wife Swap and stretchy pants.

How about you? Have you ever had a moment when you felt old? Perhaps when watching the American Idol contestants sing songs from the years they were born…years you (okay, I) remember living through?

Is this what the kids are listening to these days?

Annalyn loves music. She likes to sing along (kind of) and she loves to dance. She’ll dance in the living room, in the grocery store, in the car – really, anywhere she can hear music. It’s hilarious.

For Christmas, I was excited to give her a CD called Songs Kids Love to Sing: 25 Sunday School Songs. It really is a great CD that is teaching her classics like This Little Light of Mine and Jesus Loves the Little Children.

But there’s one song out of those 25 that really bugs me. So much so, in fact, that I skip it any time we play the CD. Here are the lyrics:

My mommy told me something
A little kid should know
And it’s all about the devil and
I’ve learned to hate him so
She says he causes trouble
If you let him in your room
And he’ll never ever leave you
If your heart is filled with gloom
So let the sun shine in
Face it with a grin
Smilers never lose
And frowners never win
So let the sun shine in
Face it with a grin
Open up your heart
And let the sun shine in

Seriously? Am I the only one who’s a little disturbed by this song?

Granted, I am aware that Annalyn is not really learning these words and keeping them in her heart forever. But someday she will.

And it’s not like I’m counting on this CD – or any CD or DVD or even book – to teach my daughter about the love of God and to instill doctrine in her mind and faith in her heart.

But still. I am not okay with a song telling my child that the devil will “never ever leave you if your heart is filled with gloom.” I mean, I guess that’s one way to make your kid to cheer up. Why bother with the typical “Turn that frown upside down!” when you can put the fear of the devil in her?

Also, “Smilers never lose and frowners never win”? I don’t think so.

This song just bugs me. So we won’t be listening to it at our house (or in our car on the way home from the babysitter’s house when Annalyn’s having a meltdown because I took her away from her friends, she’s hungry, she’s tired and oh yeah, she hates riding in the car these days).

On the other hand – and in the interest of full disclosure – I should admit here that I was surprised when the CD plays a version of I’ve Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy Down in My Heart without the verse that I learned in Sunday school.

You know that verse, right? The one that says, “If the devil doesn’t like it, he can sit on a tack. (Ouch!)”

Or was that just my Sunday school class?

Saturday Review: Billy

You may have noticed that I am a big fan of Francesca Battistelli's song, Free to Be Me. After all, I do have some of her lyrics posted over there in my sidebar. I love how, in that song, she learns to accept that she doesn't have to be perfect; she's free to be the person that God created.

What I hadn't thought much about was the first words of the song:

At twenty years of age I'm still looking for a dream
A war's already waged for my destiny
But You've already won the battle
And You've got great plans for me
Though I can’t always see

Well, I thought about it in the sense that when I sing along, I replace "twenty years of age" with "thirty years of age." But I hadn't thought about the war that's waged for each of our destinies. Not really.

Until I read William Paul McKay and Ken Abraham's biography of Billy Graham, Billy: The Untold Story of a Young Billy Graham and the Test of Faith that Almost Changed Everything.

I don't read a lot of biographies. And I'll be honest: this one took me a while to get through. The book tells the story of how Billy Graham became Billy Graham, and it's told through the eyes of his friend and former evangelist turned agnostic, Charles Templeton. McKay and Abraham frame the telling of Graham's - and Templeton's - story as an interview with a reporter looking for dirt on the beloved Graham. (In case you're actually wondering, I'll skip to the ending for you: no, she did not get any dirt.)

I felt that the writing was a bit plodding in some parts and a bit preachy in others. Some areas really called for suspense of my disbelief, as I wondered how Templeton, who was telling the story, could possibly know so many details of Graham's life. That's the tricky part of a biography, I suppose: writing a true story that reads like fiction, maintaining truth while keeping it interesting.

But in the back half of the book, the authors finally get to the point they advertised on the back cover: A remarkable friendship. An agonizing betrayal. The true story of a crisis of faith.

When Charles Templeton, Graham's best friend and partner in a budding evangelism career, gave in to the doubts and questions he held about Christianity, eventually denouncing everything he'd believed and everything Graham continued to preach, it understandably rocked Graham's world.

The climax of the book and the turning point in Graham's life was a night at a retreat center in California. McKay and Abraham describe in detail the supernatural battle between God and Satan for Graham's soul, his future and his ministry.

Of course we know how this story ends. But reading about the war that was waged - and considering the consequences from that one night, that one decision - pretty much blew me away.

If you're a fan of biographies or of Billy Graham, I say read this book. Or if you are interested in learning more about how God could use one simple farm boy to literally change this world, I say read this book. Because it's more than a story. It's a miracle and a lesson and an inspiration.

Like I said before, it took me a long time to get around to reading this book. But I am glad I did. And I hope you will, too.

I try to say goodbye and I choke.

Did anyone watch the final episode of ER last night? As Chelley pointed out, it was on for three hours!

I didn’t watch any of it, but I’ve never been an ER fan. I remember trying to watch it years ago and saying that, no matter how cute I thought Noah Wyle was, it was just too gory and too overly dramatic. Specifically, I said, “Why would I want to watch a show that makes me cry every week?”

Oh, the wisdom of teenagers. Flash forward a decade or so to me, sitting alone on my couch every Thursday night, wiping tears as I watch Grey’s Anatomy. (Is anyone else still watching? Now that they got rid of – again – Denny, it’s getting good again. Of course, by “good,” I mean slightly more plausible and even more gut-wrenching. Goooood.)

Anyway, the big to-do over ER has made me think about other TV finales that I’ve watched.

And there are many. Because – and I have no real explanation for this – I have a sick addiction to goodbyes. They tear me up and break me down…but I can’t look away.

Example 1: Watching – and bawling during – the first several episodes of 8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter after John Ritter died.

Example 2: Turning on Michael J. Fox’s final episode of Spin City, despite the fact that I’d never watched it on a regular basis. And then sobbing. Like a baby.

Example 3: Watching the last two seasons of Friends, even though I hadn’t been a faithful viewer ever before, because I’d heard it was going off the air. Can I just say…that moment in the finale where they all pull out their keys to the apartment? Killed. Me.

And most recently, Example 4: Tuning in to watch Scrubs, a show I’ve always saved for reruns on cable, because I read that this is its last season.

I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. (And please, that is not the question I’m asking here, so keep all guesses and diagnoses to yourself!) But I do love a good finale.

What about you? Do you have a love/hate relationship with TV finales? Any favorites? (For ideas, TV Guide picks a few good ones.)

** Extra credit to the first person to tell me what finale played the song containing the lyric in today's title! **

Pump Up the Jam with Pandora

Photo by grizzly_lightning

Two weeks ago, my job got a whole lot more palatable. No, I didn't get a promotion or an exciting new project.

I got headphones.

See, I sit in the IT department. Our company has grown a lot in the past few years and desperately needs to expand our building. But until the market and economy improve, we're all stuffed in corners and cubicles and cubbyholes.

Anyway. My friendly IT neighbors tend to frown on any noise I make, from blowing my nose 20 times a day (What can I say? It's always allergy season for me!) to discussing communication strategy and project details with my manager at my desk. So to keep the peace, I don't dare leave my cell phone volume on or listen to music during the day.

And sometimes? A little music could go a long way toward brightening my day and improving my attitude.

Enter the headphones. And even more brilliant, Pandora. If you haven't tried Pandora, check it out today. Based on loads of research and something called the music genome project, the site creates radio stations based on your preferences. You enter an artist or song you like, and bam! You've got your own personalized radio station.

Listening to Pandora, I find myself grinning at songs I haven't heard in years - or sometimes, ever - and wondering, "Wow, how did Pandora know I like that song?"

I love Pandora. I love my headphones. I love finding new songs and jamming to old favorites. I love being able to e-mail Chelley during the day and say, "I'm listening to rap right now. Does that make you laugh?" or "Is it weird that I'm listening to angry chick songs?"

The variety on Pandora blows me away - if only my iTunes selection was so diverse! I've got big band to hair bands, bluegrass to angry chicks, 90s soft rock to contemporary Christian, R&B to old country. Journey, Barenaked Ladies, Plain White Ts, Wilson Phillips, Firehouse, Francesca Battistelli, Sugarland. You want it, they got it.

Now I just have to make sure not to grin too widely or actually sing along to the tunes in my ear. Wouldn't want to get the IT folks all riled up.

What makes your weekday go by faster? What music makes you grin? (Please, tell me it's Wilson Phillips. No? Air Supply? Okay, maybe that's just me...)

For more Things I Love Thursday, visit Diaper Diaries.

You can't run before you walk...but you can do a lot of crawling.

Annalyn has been doing things on her own timetable since, well, forever. From the day our tiny premature baby doll ripped out her feeding tube and decided to eat on her own, to the weeks I waited for her to smile, then to roll and finally to crawl, this child of mine has reached each new milestone whenever she darn well felt like it.

And apparently she does not feel like walking. Because at 17 - almost 18 now - months old, she is not interested in getting off the ground and walking around.

On one hand, her insistence on crawling is helpful, as her love of the army crawl does clean a path on my hardwoods. And I'm pretty sure she's easier to corral on all fours.

But this evening, when I wanted to run into the library and pick up a couple books I'd requested? I'm just gonna tell you: it was a real pain to lug her with me. And I was really wishing she could just walk beside me.

(Yes, in this fantasy world, she would hold my hand snugly and walk calmly next to her mother, never daring to dart into traffic or topple a stack of library videos. Humor me, okay?)

So, I'm asking you: how can I encourage Annalyn to start to walk? For this week's backwards Works for Me Wednesday, I'm asking for tips. How did you help your kids transition from crawling to walking?

[Disclaimer: I understand that she will walk eventually, and I trust my doctor's assurance that she is doing just fine. I'm not losing sleep over her refusal to follow the timelines that parenting books provide, I promise. After all, I love that Annalyn is a unique individual with her own personality. (See Exhibit A below.) I'm just hoping she becomes a unique walking individual sometime before her second birthday.]

For more ways to offer your own tips on what will work, visit We Are THAT Family.