Wordless Wednesdays

Wherever You Are

I am exhausted.  And there's not a break in sight.  Between late nights with the kids as a result of the big kid beds and everyone being sick, the 4:30 a.m. wake up calls for boot camp, extra work hours for Bray during rodeo, and increased business at work and on charitable boards, I'm just drained.  I know Bray is too.  Since I am so tired I have had absolutely nothing to write.  Yet I truly try to write something at least three times a week.  So in trying to figure out what funny quips from the kids I could quote or what spiritual insight I might have had recently, I went back and looked through my old posts.  I save a post every once in awhile in draft form without publishing it because I'm not sure what I want to do with it or how I want to use a thought.  I came across this one.  All that was in the draft was the title above and the lyrics to a song I had heard on the radio over a month ago that really ministered to my spirit that day. 

I will probably write every single month about a song or some way music has taught me or inspired me or re-energized me.  There is nothing like a song for a weary body or spirit (or both).  The other wonderful thing is that whatever the song meant to me on that day, it means something else entirely, but similarly helpful, on this new day.  I love that about reading Scripture too.  One day it will reach me in the middle of a crisis and say one thing, and the next day it will reach me in a season of joy and teach me how to be even better at gratitude. 

The song that lead to this post is by a group called Tenth Avenue North.  I'd never heard of them until this Christmas when I was searching You Tube for a kid friendly version of Deck the Halls because my kids were obsessed with the la, la, las.  Well, Tenth Avenue North recorded a very fun and peppy version and my kids watch it even now and dance around the room with the guys.  Turns out they're a Christian band and they have a song airing on KSBJ called Strong Enough to Save.  I heard it driving into work and got this visual of God literally cracking open the skies to help us if we ask.  Rereading it today, a new line resonated, "I know the current of yourself can take you out, out to sea, but hold on." 

Wow.  I'll tell you, the current of ME has been taking me out to sea.  Wiping me out with waves taller than I can manage.  Fortunately, I serve a God that can even save me from myself.  What a relief.  Especially today.  Here's some of those words - maybe they'll restore you wherever you are:

He'll break open the skies to save
Those who cry out his name
The one the winds and waves obey
He's strong enough to save you

Look, now is not too late
Lift up your head, let the rain fall on your face
You're not far from grace, you're not too far from grace
I know the weight of this world can take you down like gravity
And I know the current of yourself can take you out, out to sea but hold on, hold on

He'll break open the skies to save
Those who cry out his name
The one the winds and waves obey
He's strong enough to save you

Won't Give Up

I was driving home last night and heard this song called Won't Give Up by a guy named Jason Mraz.  I'd never heard it before, but I loved the words.  It reminds me a lot of this year.  Bray and I have had some ups and downs, but these past few weeks, with the kids turning into diabolical little two year olds, I have felt so encouraged and strengthened to know that our marriage is good and strong.  And even when we hit bumps, they are followed by good times.  I could not have gotten through this rough patch with the kids without him.  Knowing I am part of a team, wow, it just makes all the difference tackling the tough stuff. 

We were all five sitting down at dinner the other day and the baby said, "Family."  Family.  We asked, "who is your family?"  And he said, "mommy, daddy..." and then listed himself and his brother and sister.  I love that not only is Bray the love of my life, but he's also my family. 

If you're going through a storm in your marriage, remember that sunshine and a healthier land follows it, and don't give up.  Here's a part of Won't Give Up: 

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
And when you're needing your space
To do some navigating
I'll be here patiently waiting
To see what you find...

I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily
I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use the tools and gifts
We got yeah we got a lot at stake
And in the end, you're still my friend at least we didn't end
For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn
We had to learn, how to bend without the world caving in
I had to learn what I got, and what I'm not
And who I am

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
I won't give up on us
God knows I'm tough, he knows
We got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it

Wordless Wednesdays

Grace

It's been a long week.  As you may have read.  Because of some of our toddler trials, I feel particularly thankful for God's grace.  Grace that has been doled out to me with abundance.  I hope I never cease to recognize it. 

I looked up the definition of grace, and there are many variations, but I particularly liked this one:  Grace is God's unmerited favor. It is kindness from God we don't deserve. There is nothing we have done, nor can ever do to earn this favor. It is a gift from God. Grace is divine assistance given to humans for their regeneration...

I'm still tired today.  I'm still working through what it is we need to do to be good parents and teach our children obedience in love.  But I also feel thankful.  Thankful for grace given across the spectrum:

1.  The grace given to us when our nanny offered to do an intervention last night to see if the kids would go to bed for her.  So Maria Poppins returned at 7:15 last night to our house and while she bathed them and put them to bed (they were asleep by 8 pm for her, of course!), Bray and I went out for a drink and just enjoyed the quiet and reminisced about when we met (and how we would never have imagined all this!). 

2.  The grace given to me this morning to rest in our bed with little bit.  She and I are really at loggerheads right now, she's very defiant at times, but she crawled into our bed early this morning and since I was in no rush after boot camp I got to just snuggle with her and enjoy how precious she can be. 

3.  The grace given to our family to have the wherewithal to have a fun day out at the Aquarium on Sunday.  It all got lost in the drama over no sleeping, but Sunday really was a fun day before the escapades began.  We studied all the fish, rode the train through the sharks, went around and around on the carousel, and had lunch table side to a wall of fish.  The kids were happy and the parents were too. 

4.  The grace of family and friends who have prayed for us and encouraged us and reminded us that this will pass, all too fast, and that we will miss them being small.  It's true and we are grateful to have such love and support in our lives.

II Corinthians 12 - But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

Psalm 62 - Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him. Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.

Psalm 116 - Return to your rest, my soul, for the LORD has been good to you.

Matthew 11 - Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

Insert Expletive Here

I realize I post a lot about my faith and God's hand in our journey.  So I also realize I'm not allowed to curse because it sends a bad message for someone who writes about faith and family to have four letter words on her blog.  However, the most restraint I can use tonight is for you to use the expletive that you think most fitting given your background.  It may be that is, "gracious."  I assure you, regardless of my personal Christianity, I am human and that is not the word running through my head tonight. 

As you know from this week's post, we converted to big kid beds last weekend.  Harrowing is not nearly descriptive enough of a word.  Yesterday, instead of nap time, the eldest took off his poopy diaper (the disastrous turn potty training has taken is a whole other issue), and the boys proceeded to spread the poop all the floor (beige carpet), doors and each other.  After a day of work, we still can't get it out of the carpet though the blankets and doors (and skin) has been restored.  Despite running them like dogs at the Aquarium this morning, which was, in and of itself, a fun adventure, only the baby took a nap.  I am not willing to part with naps at 28 months.  Especially when, at 8 pm tonight, they are still running around hopping from bed to bed while Bray sits with them (when I threw Piglet at the completely defiant little lady we realized it was time for me to leave the room).  We tried to bathe them to calm them down, but while trying to get their p.j.s, the little lady took the contents of the potty chair and poured it on our floor while the baby crawled into the fireplace to play in the soot. 

There are no words to express the incredible frustration, anger, dismay, and Titanic sense of sinking in our household.  Bray and I are taking turns losing our temper at least so that one of us steps in when the other one literally can not take one more minute of this naked disobedience and destruction.  We can't really process tips right now, we're in sheer survival mode, but we'll take prayers. 

friday's follies: oh lord

my kids are copycats right now.  mimics.  parrots. 

we're still in the throws of potty training and this week i walked into the laundry room where are potties are lined up to see a lovely large present left for me by the little bitty lady.  the present was not little or bitty.  i stood there, sort of shaking my head in disbelief, and uttered, "oh lord." 

the baby walks in, checks out the full potty, shakes his head, and says, "oh lord." 

funniest. thing. ever.  i couldn't stop laughing.  so of course he repeated it.  i realize he shouldn't be saying oh lord, but goodness gracious. 

they are terrors right now, but they are also genuinely hysterical.  they've taken to calling small offerings, "dolphin poopies," and large offerings, "rhino poopies."  they love animals - both of the african nature and the aquatic kind.  the baby is very frustrated if he doesn't have an exact sound for every animal, but seriously, how DOES a meerkat sound?  they want to hug sharks even though they know they go "chomp" on your face. the eldest, at bedtime and potty time, sharply instructs, "sit down mommy" with his little toddler accent so precious that i can't do anything but obey.  and little bit, despite my attempts to mitigate this, is in love with pink and wants everything pink - a pink cat, a pink house, a pink fish, especially things that in no way come in pink. 

The Night Before Nightmare

They. Are. Out.  Like wild animals out.  O-U-T. 

The theory behind our plan, my plan, was simple.  Since nothing seemed to keep them contained in their cribs, or at least the eldest contained, it was finally time to convert their beds to big boy/big girl beds.  All it required was a minor investment in some new bedding to have a "big kid bed" party and some of Bray's time to do the leg work.  I'd heard stories by some of my triplet friends of the conversion aftermath, but surely there was some hyperbole built into the stories to make them more entertaining, right? 

Wrong. 

It started off easily enough.  Big party on Saturday afternoon to show them their big kid beds and they LOVED them.  They jumped up and down on the beds, explored their new individualized bedding, and laughed their heads off.  Saturday afternoon was filled with a fun family night out - dinner with Bray's brother's family and then hanging out afterward with Bray's sister's family.  All this resulted in a pretty late night out & the kids didn't go down until 9 pm, almost an hour and a half after their usual bedtime.  As a result, while there was a little rustling, the bedtime process was pretty straightforward.  They were asleep 10 minutes after laying down.  This allowed a false sense of calm to rest over Bray and me.  A very false sense. 

Nap times the next day were disastrous.  As a result, they fell asleep an hour later and woke up an hour later.  Being the parenting geniuses that we are, we waited until after 8 pm to put them down to ensure a simple nighttime process.  Ha.  Ha, ha, I say. Complete mayhem ensued.  From 8 pm until 10 pm we tried everything to calm the zoo.  First we tried singing and talking softly.  They still ran wild.  Then I tried screaming and nearly throwing them into their beds (yes, I know, bad parenting, but you come try it).  Nothing, they laughed at our furor.  Then we left.  They destroyed the room.  Pulled all the clothes out of the closet.  Dumped all the stuffed animals out.  Threw out the contents of the trash can.  (Mind you, I had nearly emptied the room of everything the day before but I forgot the trashcan behind the rocker and the one bin of animals.  The closet, well, I can't relocate that.)  I came in and described how sad I was.  How sad daddy was.  How we were going to cry because they had made such a mess.  And though they repeated, "mommy sad," so they GOT it, the mayhem continued once I left the room. 

It is now Thursday.  This, or some iteration thereof, has happened every single night since Sunday (except we've figured out how to keep them out of the closet).  We're at our wits end.  Even Bray, calm, cool, collected Bray, is at the end of his rope.  The only time we have together is between 8 and 10 and now that's shot.  Oh, and the eldest has figured out how to open the gate to the room as we discovered this week when he nonchalantly appeared in our room despite us having locked the gate the night before. 

To put a cherry on top, we took them to Toys R Us last night just to get out of the house and let them run around.  They became SO obsessed with the electric four-wheeler things for kids that they would NOT get off.  So we were THAT family with the shrieking kids in the store.  And not one, not two, but three shrieking two year olds.  When Bray tried to steer the cart to the front to pay for pull ups (the potty training regression is a WHOLE other post), only the eldest stayed with him.  The baby went one direction, and when I caught him under one arm, little lady tore off in another direction.  Here I am RUNNING at top speed with one kid under my arm trying desperately to catch the fastest one of all.  Then they all melted down, very publicly, and then we got to go home and do an hour and a half of the above bedtime routine. 

How do you survive two year olds?  Two year olds that are (a) in big kid beds, (b) simultaneously potty training, (c) simultaneously testing every limit, and vocal cord range, ever presented.  If age three is worse, as some have alleged, I'm throwing in the towel.  They can have the house.  I'll carve out a corner where I can sleep periodically but everything else is theirs and I will no longer put up a fight. 

Wordless Wednesdays

Happy Valentine's Day - 2012

I admit to having spent most of my life as a Valentine Day scrooge.  As a result of a few bad youthful memories, I hated this most red and floral of holidays.  It was a commercialized mess that made people believe in a romantic love that didn't exist.  I wore black every year from the time I can remember. 

Then I fell in love with Bray.  While this did not make me adore the holiday, it did make me less hostile toward it.  In fact, I first actually "fell in love" with him on Valentine's Day 2004 while listening to him talk about his nieces over our first Valentine's Day dinner, which conveniently happened to fall on a Saturday.  We still don't partake in $100 overpriced roses or $200 overpriced dinners but we exchange cards and do something a little special during the day. 

Then I had kids.  While this did not cause me to morph into a three-heart-headed Valentine's monster, it has further instilled in me a mild appreciation for the holiday.  We got special cards and books for the kiddos. I had sweet picture cards made for daddy and grandparents.  I wore red because I had to take them to their Valentine's party at school complete with party food and little colored Valentine's cards.  I think I can appreciate the day most at the two year old level - where it really is about love generally and not some overly-sensationalized/romanticized dramatization of the thing. 

This morning, I felt pretty full of love.  I had the absolute dreamiest husband to roll over and kiss this morning after getting in from boot camp.  I had the most adorable kids roll out of bed with their rosy cheeks and spiky hair and excitement about their cards and the party at school.  I could appreciate that it was nice to take a moment to tell God thank you for all the love in my life from family and friends.  I was grateful that I was reminded to tell Bray more than once today how much I loved him.  And after all this time since that first Valentine's dinner, I still feel pretty mushy about him.  And I was thankful that I could stop being irritated by my currently very disobedient 2 year old toddlers (the post about the horror of the big kid bed conversion this weekend is coming this week, but I didn't want to post THAT on V-day) to see what wonders and miracles and delights they are, even though they're very much two :) 

So Happy Valentine's Day - from the Vincent household to yours.

The Working Mom's Dilemma

I had an interesting lunch today.  I'm part of a moms multiples group and the subset of us that work downtown meet up a couple times a year to have lunch and swap survival stories.  Six of us had such a lunch today.  These are all very successful women.  Most work in the energy industry, are in their 30s, and have young twins (I'm an anomaly with three).  They, we, are in demanding career fields and nevermore so than now with the down economy and cutbacks, a glut of professionals, and all present technology.  One of the women was recounting a story of her friend with twins.  She's a high powered professional with a big company and has to travel despite having young children at home.  This past Thanksgiving she was on another continent for two weeks.  She didn't see her family over the whole of the holiday.  And the comment after the story was, "but what are you going to do?"  My response, instinctively, was "you get another job." 

There are a handful of topics I tend NOT to write about because they're replete with landmines.  Marriages is one such topic as I've mentioned before.  For every one post I have about something related to marriage, I have six or more posts about something else.  But an even more taboo topic is the working mom.  I'm sure you understand why.  There are roughly four camps of believers: 
**Christians who believe working mothers are evil and the downfall of society and women should all stay at home;
**Christians who believe that working mothers are a necessity in today's society and it's fine as long as they're listening to God's will for their life and their families;
**Nonbelievers who think that mothers should at least stay at home while the kids are young because it's critical to have the mother home and involved in the child's development;
**Nonbelievers who think that mothers should not only work but they can take over the world and hold any job that any non parent or male can hold and it's silly to question the ability of moms to do it all. 

Okay, now granted, there are gradations in these camps, more extreme and far less extreme, but these are the stereotypical categories.  So now matter how I approach this issue (I roughly fall into the second category), I automatically offend people because someone reading is going to disagree with my take on this issue. 

So let me say up front, it's MY take.  I'm not suggesting that this is God's take on the issue.  Or feminists' take on the issue.  Or my family's and friends' take on the issue (in fact, they are divided themselves).

I've been practicing law for nearly 14 years.  Only two of those years have I been a mom.  However, my perspective has radically changed on what's important in a job.  Because it is no longer about how quickly I can climb the ladder of success or how much money I can make or how prestigious the title of the position is, but instead whether or not the position will allow me time to spend with my family.  I was offered an interesting opportunity last year that involved 20% travel.  That was a no brainer to me.  I didn't have to look at the perks or the reduced commute or the fancy title, I just looked at the travel.  And no matter what accommodations they were willing to make, it wouldn't make sense for either party if one needed travel and one couldn't travel much. 

I had a mentor of mine once tell me that she went back to work six weeks after she'd had her daughter and she was glad she had become so successful and had discretionary income because she could afford the therapy her daughter would need from having an absent mom.  She said it with a completely straight face.  I truly admire what she's accomplished, but at what cost?  If that really truly was her priority in life, which is fine, why did she have children? 

I'm torn on this issue.  I have three two year olds and the fact that I get to go to my office five days a week keeps me sane.  I'm blessed to have an amazing woman with the kids during the day and I get kid time on nights and weekends.  I try to guard that time so it's the children's, and I try to demonstrate how much I love my children during the hours we have.  I have immense respect for my friends that have triplets and stay at home with them.  They are stronger than I am.  I might go insane.  But simultaneously, my driving ambition isn't what it was.  The end goal is different now.  I need to have a job where I'm not miserable, but it's important I have flexibility.  That key factor outweighs a lot of other shiny factors that used to be so appealing.  My goal now is to raise healthy happy kids that really know their mommy and fully appreciate how much I love them and how much we wanted to have them in our family.  I want them to know God and understand our faith.  I want to teach them how to read and write and dance and draw and count and sing and play kindly and be polite.  And hopefully they won't need all the therapy that money can buy because they will grow up secure and confident.  Hopefully they'll know that I was there any time they needed me and they'll remember all the things we did together as they grew.

NICU Babies

I have a vivid recollection of the NICU.  I remember an early Monday morning, after the babies were born late Friday afternoon, being wheeled up to see them.  I was escorted out of their room by their NICU nurse, an angel named Melissa, because they were going to put baby boy's feeding tube in for the first time.  (The previous two days he'd been solely on IVs.)  She told me I could come back in after they were done.  So I sat, 50 yards away, in my wheelchair and began to hear alarms ringing.  Then a rush of staff flooded into our babies' room (the NICU was under remodel so we, blessedly, had a private NICU room for just our three).  I had no idea what was going on, and I can remember sitting there and just sobbing because I didn't know what was happening.  I found out later they almost lost him.  That it was the kind of emergency they normally see in NICU Level 3, but not in NICU Level 2.  That we just happened to have a NICU Level 3 nurse as our primary care nurse in Level 2 who knew, along with God's great healing hand, just what to do. 

Two weeks later, as the babies were improving, I remember Bray's and my phones ringing at midnight with dark news and requests for a spinal tap on baby girl.  I had been staying with the babies during the day but then would sleep at home at night.  Baby girl hadn't been herself that day, and I had told our amazing (and intuitive) neonatologist Dr. Fin about it.  As a result, she'd run a battery of test and our little one had tested positive for an infection.  We were told before we delivered that the leading cause of death in the NICU was infection.  We had to give permission to allow them to perform a spinal tap to rule out some things and determine how to treat her.  I hadn't even nursed her yet. 

I remember all the tubes and wires.  I remember completely isolating myself from everyone but Bray because no one could possibly understand what I was going through but him.  I remember melting down the first night I came home, without them in their nursery, because I couldn't find the book that I'd been reading to them in utero that I wanted to finish in the NICU.  I remember holding my breath.  I remember holding their tiny bare skinned bodies against my chest so they would know me and bond with me despite my nights away.  I remember loving them yet being terrified.  I remember all the prayers that went up from corners I didn't even know existed in the world.

I share this tonight because I heard a story today from a woman sitting with her sister over her four week old baby in the NICU.  Praying that all the things that caused him to be in that place would heal.  If you are sitting with your child in the NICU, I'd love to pray for you and your precious one or ones.  If you are visiting a hospital to bring lunch or companionship to your family or friend who is playing the NICU waiting game, I'd love to pray with you for them.  It doesn't matter if it's one baby or six.  It doesn't matter if it's one day or one hundred.  I really do understand what you or your loved one is going through, and I would love the opportunity to stand with you in prayer.  Or if you're too scared, or unfamiliar, to pray on your own I would be happy to pray on your behalf.  If you'd like me to pray with you, or listen, just leave the parents (or your) and child/children's names so I can wake up in the morning and remember you. 

This was my prayer in the NICU, I hope it brings you comfort today: 
Ephesians 3 - For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name.  I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory...

(From top to bottom, our NICU: the eldest the day he was born, the baby boy before he got his feeding tube, the baby girl the day after her spinal tap, mommy with little girl, daddy with the eldest, and us with the babies our first day in the NICU.)



Christian Music in the '80s

I recently wrote a miniseries post about music, and it led me to explore some of my favorite types of music and music that moved me throughout the course of my life. 

During the course of my researching and remembering, I ran across a video.  For anyone acquainted with contemporary Christian music of the '80s, along with Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant, you'll remember that Sandi Patty was a rock star.  I remember my parents coming back from hearing her in D.C., it was when we lived in Kansas and my father pastored and owned a Christian radio station, and just raving about how they were moved and floored and all such similar reactions from that live concert.  At the time I was a 12 year old DJ at the station in the mid-afternoon playing contemporary Christian "rock" for the after-school crowd.  Because we spent so much time at the radio station in 1985-86, I'd get to listen to every single album that came in to the station.  And I still, vividly, remember this duet from that time.  Remarkably, it gives me goose bumps today just like it did listening to it in a station booth decades ago. 

I share it with you today and, if you can just ignore the '80s "look," I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.  Here's Sandi Patty and Larnelle Harris singing More than Wonderful:

Bray, Thank You (and Team)

This week I wrote about the simple prayers the kids are learning to say, and how last weekend that prayer of gratitude so mirrored my spirit as I enjoyed our family time together.  Well, this morning, I'm feeling awfully grateful for Bray.  We had a rough night last night.  The baby threw up, a lot, repeatedly, and then did not want to go back to sleep even though it was after 9 (who could blame him?).  But it was all over the crib and me and him - a mess.  So I got a load of laundry started while Bray sat with him and then I laid down with him while Bray put on new sheets.  Then we had another round of him getting sick at midnight which kept us up.  And then the eldest wailed inconsolably after 2 am until I would lay down with him.  In the middle of all of this exhausting toddler drama, Bray was up and working.  He was up during the sickness and then he tried to calm the eldest down and let me sleep (and had it not been for that maniac's persistence that he would NOT stop crying until he saw mommy, it would have worked).  He was PRESENT.  

You get that, right?  We've all been in relationships, whether family, friend, or romantic, where the other person is just phoning it in.  They've already checked out.  I've been there.  I've been on both sides of that equation.

But last night, and all the nights before that, Bray is there.  Present.  Checked in.  We have ups and downs, highs and lows, happy and sad, carefree and stressed, easy and hard, but regardless of which end of the spectrum we're on Bray is clearing dishes, or waking up in the middle of the night with an upset kiddo, or changing light bulbs, or getting bills paid.  They all seem like little things, but they are really big when you add them up.  I heard this spoof done by a Christian comedian about the common complaints women have about their husbands - leaving their socks around or not putting the toilet seat down or letting the trash pile up, etc., and I turned to my friend and said, "Bray doesn't do any of that stuff.........."  Neither one of us is perfect, but we're engaged.  In our lives, in our marriage, in our responsibilities, in our kids. 

I have felt, over these past few days, how many engaged people I have on my side.  How much easier my life is because of them.  I have a mom that will drop everything to come babysit so Bray and I can have a date.  I have an assistant at work that is like a great girlfriend who just happens to make everything in your life run well.  I have a set of friends that meet a panoply of emotional and spiritual needs - Amy, my prayer warrior, and Natalie, my mom buddy, and Mary, my best friend who does it all, and Kelli, my head out and have fun friend, and so many more.  I have a nanny that allows Bray and I to work with out worrying that our kids are loved and well cared after.  I have family here and beyond that love us and pray for us and support us.  And I have Bray, and three kiddos, that love me unconditionally.

I have a lot of thank yous to issue to folks, and I encourage you to tell those in your life, on your team, how you couldn't do it without them.  I know I couldn't. 

Wordless Wednesdays (Happy B-day Mimi!)