tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79007451619149703982024-02-20T18:04:18.433-08:00I made a messCherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-64262423221623333722013-02-06T13:13:00.000-08:002013-02-06T13:13:39.755-08:00The Wife of Noble CharacterIn the last few months I've had the combined misfortune and fortune of attending two memorial services for two women. Both had been wives and mothers and grandmothers. The reason I call it fortune to have been present as their family and friends remembered them, is that their lives were both so incredibly inspiring to me in the time of life at which I currently find myself. Each woman in her illness and passing, left a great gap which they once filled with joy and wisdom, discernment, compassion, care and grace.<br />
I often fantasized in my childhood about becoming a great, powerful, influential woman. Someone that spoke with authority, and garnered respect. In the past year I have had to resign myself to being at home all day, speaking with very little authority to an audience of one who barely understands english, and when he does, usually pretends he does not. There's not really anyone around to praise me for my accomplishments, so I list them as soon as my husband comes in the door. Perhaps some part of me is convinced if I don't verbalize my works, then they really don't matter after all. I know they do. Jack has a clean house and he has food to eat, toys to play with. He is happy and healthy, and actually, wonderfully joyful most of the time. But no one will write books about this. There will be no headlines, no tv movie. Motherhood is not how one becomes famous. At least not without having record numbers of babies or maybe taking time to write an incredibly successful series of children's books. I will not be famous, or infamous. I will be the wife of John, and the mother of Jack.<br />
I don't take these titles lightly, in fact they weigh on me daily. How can I be better at this job? How can I excel? Without goals one is just free-falling with nothing but an abrupt and painful meeting with the earth to look forward to. I have been haunted for years now by a passage in Proverbs, that actually came up at the services of both of the aforementioned women. It's the Epilogue to the book of Proverbs entitled "The Wife of Noble Character." It speaks of a woman who is dependable, driven, skilled, consistent, and as such is "worth far more than rubies." It is a very inspiring and daunting passage. Traditionally at Shabbat dinner it is read by the patriarch as a blessing over his wife before the meal. It truly shows the great value of a woman who has taken Wife and Mother as an esteemed position. This woman understands how important her contributions are to her family. She is a blessing to all and a servant of all. I have come to discover that when discussing great women these verses come up as frequently as 1 Corinthians 13 comes up at weddings. But I don't think that repetition diminishes it at all. In fact, I may start making my husband read this at dinner once a week as a blessing over me.<br />
Jack has been around for just over a year now, and his taken me almost as long to <i>begin</i> to understand the great honour and high calling that is motherhood, and marriage. It is challenging to be selfless, to sacrifice every moment to another human being. I never used to have to do that when I worked because John and I were in the same boat, and so we had equal responsibility for our household. Now he bears all of the financial responsibility (a hefty burden now with house and a child). I bear his laundry, his comfort, his food, his children! I want to carry it all gracefully, and by the grace of God I may yet. Perhaps I will never achieve renowned among the masses. But I pray that I can be a significant and overflowing blessing to my family. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-10" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="footnote" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="[<a href="#fen-NIV-17295b" title="See footnote b">b</a>]"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+31&version=NIV#fen-NIV-17295b" style="text-decoration: initial; vertical-align: top;" title="See footnote b">b</a>]</sup>A wife of noble character<span style="font-size: 0.65em;"><sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-17295K" title="See cross-reference K">K</a>)"></sup></span> who can find?<span style="font-size: 0.65em;"><sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-17295L" title="See cross-reference L">L</a>)"></sup></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-10" style="position: relative;">She is worth far more than rubies.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-11" id="en-NIV-17296" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">11 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-11" id="en-NIV-17296" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">Her husband<sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-17296M" title="See cross-reference M">M</a>)"></sup> has full confidence in her</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-11" style="position: relative;">and lacks nothing of value.<sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-17296N" title="See cross-reference N">N</a>)"></sup></span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-12" id="en-NIV-17297" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">12 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-12" id="en-NIV-17297" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">She brings him good, not harm,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-12" style="position: relative;">all the days of her life.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-13" id="en-NIV-17298" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">13 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-13" id="en-NIV-17298" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">She selects wool and flax</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-13" style="position: relative;">and works with eager hands.<sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-17298O" title="See cross-reference O">O</a>)"></sup></span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-14" id="en-NIV-17299" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">14 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-14" id="en-NIV-17299" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">She is like the merchant ships,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-14" style="position: relative;">bringing her food from afar.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-15" id="en-NIV-17300" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">15 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-15" id="en-NIV-17300" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">She gets up while it is still night;</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-15" style="position: relative;">she provides food for her family</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-15" style="position: relative;">and portions for her female servants.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-16" id="en-NIV-17301" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">16 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-16" id="en-NIV-17301" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">She considers a field and buys it;</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-16" style="position: relative;">out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-17" id="en-NIV-17302" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">17 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-17" id="en-NIV-17302" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">She sets about her work vigorously;</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-17" style="position: relative;">her arms are strong for her tasks.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-18" id="en-NIV-17303" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">18 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-18" id="en-NIV-17303" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">She sees that her trading is profitable,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-18" style="position: relative;">and her lamp does not go out at night.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-19" id="en-NIV-17304" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">19 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-19" id="en-NIV-17304" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">In her hand she holds the distaff</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-19" style="position: relative;">and grasps the spindle with her fingers.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-20" id="en-NIV-17305" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">20 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-20" id="en-NIV-17305" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">She opens her arms to the poor</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-20" style="position: relative;">and extends her hands to the needy.<sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-17305P" title="See cross-reference P">P</a>)"></sup></span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-21" id="en-NIV-17306" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">21 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-21" id="en-NIV-17306" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">When it snows, she has no fear for her household;</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-21" style="position: relative;">for all of them are clothed in scarlet.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-22" id="en-NIV-17307" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">22 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-22" id="en-NIV-17307" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">She makes coverings for her bed;</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-22" style="position: relative;">she is clothed in fine linen and purple.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-23" id="en-NIV-17308" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">23 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-23" id="en-NIV-17308" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">Her husband is respected at the city gate,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-23" style="position: relative;">where he takes his seat among the elders<sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-17308Q" title="See cross-reference Q">Q</a>)"></sup> of the land.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-24" id="en-NIV-17309" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">24 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-24" id="en-NIV-17309" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">She makes linen garments and sells them,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-24" style="position: relative;">and supplies the merchants with sashes.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-25" id="en-NIV-17310" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">25 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-25" id="en-NIV-17310" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">She is clothed with strength and dignity;</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-25" style="position: relative;">she can laugh at the days to come.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-26" id="en-NIV-17311" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">26 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-26" id="en-NIV-17311" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">She speaks with wisdom,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-26" style="position: relative;">and faithful instruction is on her tongue.<sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-17311R" title="See cross-reference R">R</a>)"></sup></span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-27" id="en-NIV-17312" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">27 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-27" id="en-NIV-17312" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">She watches over the affairs of her household</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-27" style="position: relative;">and does not eat the bread of idleness.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-28" id="en-NIV-17313" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">28 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-28" id="en-NIV-17313" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">Her children arise and call her blessed;</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-28" style="position: relative;">her husband also, and he praises her:</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-29" id="en-NIV-17314" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">29 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-29" id="en-NIV-17314" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">“Many women do noble things,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-29" style="position: relative;">but you surpass them all.”</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-30" id="en-NIV-17315" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">30 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-30" id="en-NIV-17315" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-30" style="position: relative;">but a woman who fears the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> is to be praised.</span></span></div>
<span class="text Prov-31-31" id="en-NIV-17316" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; text-align: center; vertical-align: top;">31 </sup></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text Prov-31-31" id="en-NIV-17316" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">Honor her for all that her hands have done,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Prov-31-31" style="position: relative;">and let her works bring her praise<span style="font-size: 0.65em;"><sup class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-17316S" title="See cross-reference S">S</a>)"></sup></span> at the city gate.</span></span></div>
Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-17767395039799788212012-01-27T15:06:00.000-08:002012-01-27T16:55:02.095-08:00The Let DownSo--one month into motherhood and I'm feeling pretty awesome! I love my baby and my husband and I don't mind being stuck at home all that much either. <div>Our first month wasn't all that rosy though. I was exhausted at first and scared to death that I was going to fail miserably at this. In fact, the first couple of weeks I really thought I had. I realize that there were/are a lot of hormones involved as well as a serious lack of sleep, but I was convinced that I was a horrible mother who couldn't provide for my son. The reason?? Breastfeeding. Now I had been warned that this might not come easy despite it's being the natural way of things--but it wasn't just not easy, it was really freakin hard. </div><div>Today Jack is being breastfed just about every 2 hours. But, to my earlier dismay, he is also taking a bottle of formula in the same increments. This is not how I imagined this would go. I was so sure and so dedicated to nursing that I didn't do a bit of research on formula. What was the point? And then I ran into obstacle after obstacle from the day my sweet boy was born.</div><div><br /></div><div>Obstacle number one: it hurt! I heard that it would hurt and that you just needed to push through that pain. My lactation consultant at the hospital said she'd never seen anyone react in the way that I did, though. And I didn't react in the way I thought I would either. I mean I figured it would be uncomfortable, but I didn't know it would be frighteningly painful. By the end of the first 3 days I was experiencing dread every time I had to feed him. I pushed through though, the way everyone told me to. I figured what I was experiencing was normal. But when the second lactation consultant I saw was then shocked at the state of my nipples, I felt pretty much hopeless. Jack likes to chew. He chewed and chewed until I had scabs covering both sides. She gave me permission to take a break from breastfeeding and to start pumping to increase my production. This was a huge relief, but at the same time it was terrifying--if I stop breastfeeding, will he ever want to try again? Will we lose this special connection forever? But I stopped, because every feeding was getting worse, not better, and I didn't want to resent or fear my son.</div><div> </div><div>Obstacle number two: Jack's tongue tie. This is directly related to obstacle one as it was the reason Jack accidentally wreaked havoc on my poor nipples. He couldn't feed correctly. By the time he was properly diagnosed he had been bottle feeding for about a week and when the suggestion came to have his frenulum clipped I was wary. We didn't even have our son circumcised to protect him from what we deemed to be unnecessary pain. But, man, I was desperate to get back to feeding my son. I was ashamed and guilt-ridden. So we went ahead with the procedure. It was quick and easy. Jack didn't seem to care that much except for a quick moment of crying. This was looking to be the answer to everything. But my journey was not over.</div><div>Obstacle number three: Jack's weight and Jaundice. These factors are related to the two above. Jack couldn't eat properly because of his tongue-tie and because of this he dropped 11% of his body weight in three days. Newborns are only allowed to lose 10% so his pediatrician said we had to start supplementing with formula. Later that night we found out that his problem eating had affected not only his weight but his bilirubin levels--meaning he was pretty severely jaundiced. I don't know really what's bad-bad is for jaundice but I know that the level that causes brain damage is 24 and Jack was at 19. This number had raised from 9 in only two days. We were sent directly to Children's Hospital do not pass go. This was where we saw the lactation consultant who gave me permission to start pumping only. This is also where I experienced the height of my mommy guilt. I wasn't able feed him and now he was sick. What kind of a mother was I? Why couldn't I just do this thing that is supposed to be so easy and natural? I pretty much cried the entire time we were at Children's. Jaundice, by the way, is essentially the least serious diagnosis they encounter at Children's Hospital, so my weepiness was probably driving Jack's nurses crazy. But what can you do? He'd kept us up the previous nights crying (because he was hungry), and I couldn't sleep with my baby under bright phototherapy lights with an IV in his arm. So I was insanely tired and overwhelmed with self-pity. I really should send those ladies some Starbucks cards or something, though, cause I was a mess. </div><div>Obstacle number five: My milk-production (or lack thereof). So when the lactation consultant gave me the go-ahead to pump only, I was feeling pretty encouraged. I could just pump and put that in a bottle and say bye-bye to the formula. Smash cut to a week later--Jack is taking in 1-2oz of milk every 2 hours and mommy is producing a steady 1/4-1/2oz of milk via pump in the same time frame. I could give him a full feeding's worth about twice a day. This is how it was when I started pumping and it never got better. I got the best pump. I rented a hospital-grade machine at the consultant's instruction. But my production, which she had said signaled that I hadn't yet had a true let down of milk, had never increased. Everyone kept saying I had to stop stressing about it. Johnny even ran a bath for me, and turned the lights down, lit candles and put on some Fleet Foxes so I could rest in the tub (wonderful, wonderful man). But really--how can I not stress about something that comes up every two hours all day ever day (and even into the night)? I grew more and more discouraged every time I went to the pump. Since Jack wasn't able to feed well my body never got the signals it needed in the first days to make an adequate amount of milk. Now the pump was failing at the same task--and I felt I was failing. </div><div>Obstacle number 6 (or the straw that broke the camel's back): The SNS-supplemental nursing system. I went to a third lactation consultant back at Swedish Edmonds. We discussed the challenges I'd had with the tongue-tie and the pumping and all of it. So she suggested I try an SNS. This is a large syringe filled with formula with a little tube attached to it that runs to your nipple so the baby can breastfeed and still get the supplemental formula without having to bother with a bottle. Great idea! Or was it? Jack was supposed to be latching a lot better since his tongue-tie was released, and he latched pretty well for the consultant while we were at the hospital. But when I got home I tried to use this very tricky system on my own. Our first feeding took an hour (Jack was taking in 2oz of formula at this point). The second feeding Jack was so frustrated by this process that it took us four hours with both of us crying for most of it. The thing is that it's really hard to juggle the tube and the boob and the baby all at once, especially when you're still not feeling very confident with latching. We tried again the next morning, and Jack started bawling the moment I put him on my chest. He wasn't having it. I was devastated. Now he didn't want anything to do with me. My baby hated me (or at least that's how it felt). </div><div>That was the end. I had tried everything I could think of, and all solutions had failed miserably. John asked me if I wanted to quit (but I think in a way he was asking me to quit because he was tired of everyone in the house crying all the time). I asked him if it was alright with him if I did and he said ok (please do!). At this point I felt it wasn't worth pushing my son to do something he didn't want to do, and sacrificing the wonderful closeness we had in other aspects of our relationship. By this time you could send me to tears if you just said breastfeeding. To me the word was synonymous with failure, guilt, embarrassment, frustration, and rejection. I was done.</div><div><br /></div><div>The silver lining around this series of stormy clouds is that once I gave myself permission to stop breastfeeding it got really easy. I didn't do it for a couple of days, and then one afternoon I just thought, what could it hurt? Let's just see what happens. I had already quit so there was no pressure. We did great! So I kept up with the random feedings here and there. In the last week I've finally increased it to just about every feeding. I'm taking fenugreek to try to increase my milk production and we're just playing it by ear. I don't hold out much hope that we'll ever be able breastfeed exclusively as we had originally planned, but I am so enjoying what we do have. I figure even a little bit of breast milk is better than none at all. It still hurts, but now it hurts at a level that I expect is what people meant when they warned me that it would--it doesn't hold a candle the torture that was my first few days of feeding. </div><div><br /></div><div>So in the end, what I would like to say about breastfeeding, is that in many ways it has been a let down (pun intended). But I want to let other new mommies out there know that it can be wonderful and life changing, but if it doesn't work it doesn't work and it's ok. Formula may not be ideal, but it does the job and you shouldn't feel guilty if that's what you have to do. It took me several weeks of failures to finally give up and give myself permission to use this alternative. Don't sabotage precious time with your baby beating yourself up about something you can't change. And for those for whom breastfeeding was the most natural thing in the world, you really have been given a precious gift. If you see me at Starbucks blogging and feeding my newborn formula from a bottle, cut me some slack. This wasn't the way I planned it, but I desperately love my baby and I'm doing my best. </div>Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-11055190068783533642012-01-15T13:39:00.000-08:002012-01-15T14:49:30.565-08:00It's a Christmas Miracle!I haven't looked forward to Christmas since I was a kid--really not since my mom passed away in 2003. She loved to give extravagant gifts, and Christmas was the perfect forum for that passion. She didn't know how many Christmas' she had left, so she always made it the most special holiday.<div><br /></div><div>So I found out baby Jack had grown to 8lbs 9oz the week before this Christmas. I started to experience signs of labor that week as well, but I couldn't really say for sure that that's what I was experiencing. My doctor did not seem concerned about him coming early. In fact, he had me all stressed out about whether or not I should have an elective c-section since Jack was already so big at 37 weeks. the average newborn is 7-1/2 lbs and my baby had 3 more weeks of cooking to do! I won't go in to all of the conversation about why I might have needed a c-section, since it is now a moot point.</div><div><br /></div><div>We went to John's dad's house in Bellingham for breakfast Christmas morning and drove back down to Edmonds to John's mom's for a very casual evening. I had Braxton Hicks contractions all day but thought nothing of it. We returned home around 10 that night and I was exhausted (as usual) so I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. John said I was asleep for about 15 minutes before I was awakened by my water breaking. This was a shock because our birth class teacher told us that your bag of waters breaking doesn't usually happen first like it does in the movies and on tv. I was stressing out for weeks about whether I'd be able to tell when my contractions were close enough to go to the hospital, and I never even had to count. I had about an hour and half after my water broke where I had no pain to speak of. </div><div>We finished packing our hospital bag, lined the passenger seat of John's car with towels ( you would not believe how much amniotic fluid there was), and headed off to Swedish Edmonds. </div><div>We got to the hospital around midnight and once they confirmed that my water had broken I was moved into my room and able to start laboring in the nice deep tub they had in the bathroom. </div><div>My wonderful saint of a friend, Caroline, came at 2am to help me cope with labor. I sent her home around 6 or 7 when I had hit 8cm and also my mental limit. I couldn't concentrate to breathe anymore and I didn't feel able to continue with the pain being what it was so I got the epidural. This wasn't totally devastating because my plan had always been to do what I could, see what I could do, and utilize my resources if I didn't feel able. Unfortunately, what I knew about epidurals turned out to be true in my case and I stayed at 8cm for the next two hours. So out came the pitocin which stressed me out because I did not want to get on the epidural-pitocin roller coaster that eventually leads to c-section. My epidural, however, was controlled by a button that I wasn't sure if I was allowed to push-so I didn't push it. I also had a window on my right side that wasn't effected by the epidural. I was grateful for this because I was still connected to what was going on in my body, but the pain wasn't completely overwhelming. It felt like a really great compromise. </div><div>The clock was ticking away, and one troublesome thing about your water breaking at the beginning of labor instead of in the middle of it, is that you and the baby are increasingly susceptible to infection as time goes on. My doctor wanted Jack to be delivered within 12 hours so I was constantly aware that I had a time limit. I was able to start pushing at about 12 hours and they had to keep an eye on my temperature to be sure that I wasn't getting sick and that Jack wasn't either. My sister had left work after an hour, taken the bus and then walked several miles to the hospital to be with me for the birth. She and John held my legs and counted for me while I pushed for 2 and a half hours. I was very frustrated and intentionally did not utilize my epidural button because I was having so much trouble effectively pushing him out. I couldn't feel enough initially to focus my pushing where it needed to go. Finally with the help of Dr. Rogers I successfully pushed baby Jack out and I cried and John cried (even though he swore he wasn't going to). It was a beautiful experience. It was the fastest 14-1/2 hours of my life. I ended up with an absolutely adorable 8lb 9oz baby boy.</div><div>Now the work has begun. John and I have been overwhelmed both by the amount of love we have for our child, as well as the amount of work that goes into caring for him. This was especially true in the first week when we barely slept. Now that we've got a rhythm going things are a bit easier. </div><div><br /></div><div>All in all the birth of my child has been a day anticipated with the same fervor I once had approaching Christmas day. Baby Jack is the most extravagant Christmas gift I've received in my life. It reminds me of Matthew 7:11 Just as my mother was able to give good gifts when I was a child, how much more has my Father in heaven been able to give good gifts?</div>Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-55330697547783948162011-09-11T12:46:00.000-07:002011-09-12T09:49:15.591-07:00Growing with Johnny and Jack<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><u><br /></u></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHetiueINO7_eMIlGDfu_k6_qG-8hT-lIm6x8OdInbDcP9HGN7EhrRlro02GerL6NH1RUAQ3NlY-LoCWc5wLIXeauF8BQBLssoY8JLusnRKzcuEnk6rg0Vep_7QBtAGEc6E6NZQb1mV7h/s1600/GetAttachment.aspx" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 119px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHetiueINO7_eMIlGDfu_k6_qG-8hT-lIm6x8OdInbDcP9HGN7EhrRlro02GerL6NH1RUAQ3NlY-LoCWc5wLIXeauF8BQBLssoY8JLusnRKzcuEnk6rg0Vep_7QBtAGEc6E6NZQb1mV7h/s320/GetAttachment.aspx" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651192395832962834" /></a> Just above this text, you can see the image of my incredibly good-looking husband reading up on the finer points of vegetable gardening while simultaneously engaging in said gardening. <div>I love this for several reasons. </div><div>One: I love the way he studies up on every single thing he wants to do. It's one of those endearing qualities that would never make it on your junior high "what I want in a guy" list, but is now firmly on my "reasons I am madly in love with my husband" list. I think it has something to do with the fact that I rarely do the proper amount of preparation needed for my various endeavors. Now that we do lots of things together it means that I have someone to take care of me when the unforeseen surprises I would have foreseen had I learned anything about the thing I'm doing, <i>are</i> expected and subsequently dealt with by my studious lifemate. He takes care of me. He is very well-read on many things. </div><div>Two: We have a shamefully tiny back deck in our one-bedroom apartment in Bothell--a deck I have for a long time considered useless and annoying. Last summer it reached the height of uselessness when a family of wasps built a nest in the the awning. There was no point trying to reclaim the territory from the hive, as it was clear that they were able to derive far more purpose from the space than we were. Plus I was afraid of getting stung. Winter took care of the problem, anyway, and wasps don't nest in the same space twice, so we are luckily wasp free this season. But Johnny has not given up on or sad little deck. He's found a way to store the bikes we never use back there. Now he's going to utilize the once-infested awning by hanging starter planters filled with the seeds of various vegetables that should hopefully make it into a salad or two in the coming months. I love the way he is dissatisfied with the status quo. While I would be content to burn it and let it fall off the side of the building simply out of disgust for how puny and ridiculous it is--he is building it up. He does the same thing with me during particularly difficult bouts of low self esteem and anxiety. </div><div>Three: I just love having a handyman around. Here he is with his power-tools placing the hooks for the planters: </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwnTxLaZYcECGJNymP17KaXkTYXoe2Pi5XSeSkfAnvfDUe5jxuiP1GXMrxxcmvSMua7LvVKjc7kpceXORQEPqw72_hISEe0556XDVx-nIidmkAEjwTVdaZaQEv592htHOOGJF1SSKXXn7d/s320/GetAttachment+%25281%2529.aspx" /></div><div style="text-align: left;">How does he know how to do stuff, and what exactly to do in the first place? This wasn't in the gardening book. He did have a job remodeling houses for a short time, where he got to try his hand at several different household fixer-uppers. He's also been dutifully instructed by his very handy father in various manly household tasks such as: building a fence, moving dirt, tinkering with cars, and other such manly enterprises. Growing up at Grandma's house, with my mom and two sisters, household challenges were the responsibility of the women folk--cause we were all women folk. While this was at times incredibly empowering (my mom built our swing sets, weed-wacked the garden, put up an above ground pool after leveling the lower area in the back yard, etc.), testing the limits of what we could accomplish on our own--every once in a while a limit was met for whatever reason. Luckily we had an incredibly helpful neighbor dad who would pick up for us wherever we left off in a particularly trying project. This often made me feel a lack in our household. Jennifer, the neighbor girl, had a strong figure to look up to that could seemingly take on the world--and we were always pushing the extremes of our skills. As a very anxious individual, I can say there is a difference between going into a situation and just seeing if it could be handled, vs. going in with the security of knowing we could triumph. That's the way Johnny makes me feel now. Now, I'm not saying you need a dude to take care of your stuff, I'm just saying that having that person who makes you feel taken care of, whoever they are, is an incredibly valuable relationship. One that I am so grateful to have.</div><div style="text-align: left;">And (finally) four: For the last six months I have been devouring book after book about growing my baby. I've been attempting to provide appropriate nutrients and environment for little Jack. I've been excited and astonished by the stages of his growth (and mine). This endeavor on our back deck looks suspiciously to me like Johnny's iteration of this same experience. I know it's on a smaller scale, but it feels so symbolic to me. I don't know if John is subconsciously attempting to share in the process of growing a new life in his own special way--more likely it's just that he finally got around to doing something that he's been meaning to do for a while. Mostly, I just think it's sweet. We've got four months left to wait before we meet Jack face to face. While I'll be doing my best to keep him strong and healthy, and to prepare our home for his arrival, Johnny will be doing the same with his little hanging garden. We're gonna be parents soon, and we're learning how to be responsible for things right now. Yes, it makes me tear up a bit-but let's be honest, what doesn't lately?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidKAOuBJD2AuZeU5EgB9DQqdm06TT0WmcU5jg6H_e27qq2rvdOk-iuuf1n7tCMLU8JZaYmP-f4U3jiqeUZoi-6svrvGjQ7JpjpDu0HaBOXVl2mYnv16KyFsZoJf-WRUBVXOG9SRpDYanmL/s320/GetAttachment.aspx" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The finished product</span></div><div><br /></div>Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-27058998434814101252011-08-18T20:40:00.000-07:002011-08-18T21:20:21.691-07:00Three KneesThe day we'd been waiting for finally came this last Tuesday--the gender ultrasound!<div>
<br /></div><div>A friend of mine told me that, expecting to hear the gender of her second child, she was shocked by her doctor who informed her that her precious child had three knees. She was mortified, but her doctor earnestly continued on, "a left knee, a right knee and a weenie." </div><div>
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Well, the Migas baby is similarly afflicted--our little bean is going to be the Fifth John Andrew Migas</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <img src="http://www.socalmuscle.com/forums/imagehosting/84b046f7617e59.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Johnny 5</div><div>
<br /></div><div>For fun (and for a little change) we're gonna use Jack as a nickname. I'm very excited! It's made quite a difference in my day-dream life. Now I know it's little Jack in there, and I can make plans, and pray for him by name. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>I must admit, I do feel I have far fewer options for playing dressing up and doing hair with a boy--but I'm sure I can make it work. I'm honestly quite relieved that we got a boy the first time around--or even at all! I am one of 4 girls, with no brothers, and I have two beautiful nieces. Up to this point the descendants of William Redfield have enjoyed an exclusively female membership. I'll be very interested to see what my dad is like with a little boy. What kind of adventures can Police Sargent Redfield have with little deputy Jack? </div><div>I've heard recently that boys are cuddly creatures. I look forward to this. I'm basically just having a baby so I can have my own little cuddler all to myself. Okay, that's not true, but I do look forward to a lot of cuddling. I know Johnny does too--we're a very cuddly family. I've heard that co-sleeping is a good idea for several reasons like easy access for feeding in the middle of night, and family bonding. The Migas' will be co-sleeping for all of the practical reasons, but mainly because we've got to snuggle. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>In other news--my ankles are daily meeting or exceeding the width of my mid-calf. Not cool water-retention. Not cool at all.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>
<br /></div>Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-71471223292462741552011-07-25T13:15:00.000-07:002011-07-25T13:24:32.187-07:00I've got a beautiful feeling...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD557FFlRoVFosFig_5vDFxLDyXWRHfnMuJ46IFxclg60j2towLEZD1U6tcUd6Ds_fwX9WHSbeMrbq7PfT0_iWVvo0dXgxgUbovp-WYT6gzOYodyN8aMnQs6KuOA-JL5HEdjfEFDCZVm8D/s1600/photo+%25282%2529.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD557FFlRoVFosFig_5vDFxLDyXWRHfnMuJ46IFxclg60j2towLEZD1U6tcUd6Ds_fwX9WHSbeMrbq7PfT0_iWVvo0dXgxgUbovp-WYT6gzOYodyN8aMnQs6KuOA-JL5HEdjfEFDCZVm8D/s320/photo+%25282%2529.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633388054461293058" /></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Some things have changed around here!!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">So, <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I suppose this entry is a fabulous representation of my current disregard for this blog. My last post was my horrible “I’m having a miscarriage” post, and this one is my “I’m 4 months pregnant and this is how it’s going” post.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Part of the apathy comes from a strong aversion to wanting to see<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>my last post or think about it. That whole experience was really rough, and I don’t know how “over it” I would be right now if I hadn’t accidently gotten pregnant a few months later. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Accidentally?</i> <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You say. Why yes. Though we had been trying for a baby for about 5 months leading up to the miscarriage, I had written off the whole idea for the next year. That’s right—a year! This decision was affected partially by the overwhelming hopelessness I’d sunken into and partially by the impulsive <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>move to start seeing a trainer 3 times a week.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was gonna get in shape and be healthy for my pregnancy, whenever that would come a long. One month into training, it came along.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Now, I’m obviously not a medical professional of any kind, but let me tell you, I have a feeling that beginning a disciplined work-out regimen can be an excellent fertility booster.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’ve seen it happen with friends, but never put the pieces all together until it happened to me. If you’re trying to conceive and you’re not involved in physical activity (and I’m talking beyond conception activities ;)) at least three times a week, I strongly recommend it. Even if you don’t get pregnant, you’ll be a lot happier and a lot healthier. It balances your hormones, and helps balance your priorities. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So now I have a trainer who is helping me strengthen my body for carrying my child, and I love it! I do have to take a nap between work and the gym every day, and I’m not super excited about going when it means I have to get out of bed to get there, but, I still enjoy having that activity.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There’s a lot of hopes that one has for how they are going to live and and eat and be while they’re growing their baby, but once you’re tired and sick and all around icky feeling, your best intentions often get set aside for whatever works best for you in that moment.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So even during the first trimester when my food choices were not always the best because nothing sounded good except top ramen or a taco bell burrito—I still had my time with my trainer where I could rest a little easier knowing that at least I’m doing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">something</i> right.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m 16 weeks now, and the anxiety of the first trimester has lifted, and I am feeling great! I’m just about coming upon the point when I stop looking like I let myself go, and start looking pregnant—though it honestly depends on the day and the outfit I choose.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In three weeks I get to find out if I’m having a boy or girl(yay!). <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In the interest in keeping this short enough to be worth reading I’ll end on that note.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Keep looking out for future pregnancy posts on the following subjects: <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Boy or girl: why I don’t have a preference but it better be a girl<span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span><br />I’m not a teen mom,<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’ve just developed the complexion of an 8<sup>th</sup> grader<br />Is that a laugh or a cry? And other futile questions from a daddy-to-be<br />Nesting: is it possible to make a nice space for my baby using crap I found around the house?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-29453934946288365372011-02-25T12:05:00.000-08:002011-02-25T13:03:21.212-08:00I have an anouncement to make---but not the one we were expecting.I'm nine weeks pregnant today. But when we went for our first doctor visit yesterday, they said it looked like only six weeks. They also said there was an irregular heartbeat and a few other things that mean essentially that I'm not really nine weeks, and I'm not going to be pregnant anymore. I was gonna start blogging in three weeks all about my pregnancy. But instead I guess I'll do this one blog about miscarriage.<div> It really sucks. If I don't distract myself I just cry and I don't even know why I'm still crying. I'm really disappointed. <div>The really really sucky thing about it is that I always thought it happened all at once and then the baby was gone and you grieve and you move on. But apparently that's not how it goes. Also, I don't know how long it's gonna take. For this last week I kept running to the bathroom hoping I wasn't bleeding more than the last time I was there, and now I just wish it would happen already. I was hoping it wasn't gonna happen, but now that it's imminent, it just won't. That is lame because there is a foolish foolish bit of hope that lingers. <i>It hasn't happened yet so maybe it won't happen, maybe it's gonna be fine. </i> </div><div>Well let me tell you, when it does, I would appreciate a really big glass of wine. There's not really any number of nice things that can be said to make it feel better, because I really just wanted to have a baby and I'm not. Skip the kind words and bring me some wine. I have a friend who had a miscarriage and has been trying and she was talking to me a couple weeks ago. She's been trying again and again and she asked me about my time trying and trying. She asked if I get really upset when my period comes and I said yes...cause I do...cause I'm Cherie and that's how I am. She said she just pours herself a glass of wine, might as well...try again next month. Well I think that is great advice and I plan to follow it to the t. Except I think I'm gonna wait a little longer than a month. I can only handle 6 months of crushing disappointment at a time. Four months of trying, two months of success, and now lets say maybe six months off. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-27999352132880128982010-10-31T13:53:00.000-07:002010-10-31T15:56:17.930-07:00Getting LuckyAt 24 years old I've had the opportunity to gamble intermittently through the years. I've played some slots, had a couple of scratch tickets, bought in on some raffles, and even participated in the occasional harvest party cakewalk. Now I know everybody says this, but really--I never win anything! I'm not counting things that require any sort of special skill, like sports events, or bowling tournaments. That would really help drive the point home, but it would also be really depressing in my case. I'm talking, pure, unadulterated, luck o' the draw type situations. Okay, I did win a cakewalk once, but I think everyone won in that particular event cause it was a bunch of kids, and they didn't want anyone to feel like a loser...but really, in retrospect, winning a whole cake all my own is not really what I would consider great luck for a chubby 11 year old girl--that old "lifetime on the hips" adage is haunting me to this day. Okay, okay, this is not meant to be a pity party entry, let's focus people! I know you have been eagerly awaiting the news about a possible bun in the oven over at the Migas house. I'll settle the suspense by telling you that the only baked goods developing over here this month are simply the remnants of my 13 year old cakewalk win. The June baby is a no-go. It seems we may be looking at having a kid who will never know the joy of a birthday party during the school year. Some might call it cruel, but I say, all the better for a Wild Waves birthday party right?! Right. So let's talk about luck a little bit. I don't usually subscribe to it cause my Grandma always said if we believe in luck we are taking our faith away from God's ability to provide for us. But let me tell you, my friends, this whole getting pregnant thing feels a lot like a crapshoot. Even when I've done everything to put the odds in my favor, there's not guarantee that I will have success. My expectation, as you know, was not that it would happen right away. I was kinda hoping it would though. Just cause I don't like playing games for too long when I keep losing. I<i>'</i>ve racked up quite a few unfinished games of frisbee golf in my day, which can attest to this. Let's be real: twenty-one over par on one hole is not worth seeing through 8 more--unless I'm going for my all time highest over par score, which is an entirely different story of course. I'm not saying that I'm gonna give up if I don't get my hole in one. I've gotta keep throwing, I just feel a lot less in control of the outcome. I can make sure all the pieces are in play when they're supposed to be, but will I be lucky enough to have two teeny tiny elements meet at the exact right time in the right conditions and become a viable life? So much of my life, especially my childhood, included situations which I couldn't influence or control. I've had to learn over and over again how to stop striving and just rest in the will of God. But taking that step from grasping for any bit of control I can muster, into faith, and trust, and hope in the the blessings of the King...it's just one step but I swear, in between the two there's death-defying canyon with crocodiles swimming around snapping their jaws in a rushing river at the bottom. I know, I'm not sure how the crocodiles are able to swim in place in a rushing river, or how come they can see me well enough to get really mouthwateringly hungry for dinner when I'm like 100 feet above them either. But it's all there, and it's freakin' scary. I need a sturdy rope bridge Lord! I've just got to remember that feeling of getting over to the other side. It's so much less stressful over there. They have fruity beverages with little umbrellas in 'em and stuff. You can just rest. "Be still and know that He is God" and bathe in the warm sunlight of His vast, uncompromising, miraculous, love. Deep breath taken, one last look into the eye of a ferocious crocodile, and I'm just gonna ease my way over there. <div> I just heard a quote the other day that I really liked, "I'd rather be an optimist and a fool than a pessimist and be right." So I'm off on my fool's quest, and as always I'll let you know how it goes. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I know my husband isn't overly disappointed--there's a few days this month he can pretty much guarantee he's getting lucky ;)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> p.s. He apparently has been able to "just tell" I wasn't pregnant for about a week or so now but he didn't want to upset me by saying so...I guess I don't need to buy any more pregnancy tests for November, haha.</div>Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-26464563474507204582010-10-21T13:07:00.000-07:002010-10-21T13:31:08.111-07:00Halloween and HypochondriaWell, my friends...we are just waiting now. Waiting and waiting and waiting. We are in a period commonly referred to by baby forums the world over as the "two-week-wait." Essentially, John and I have taken care of all that we have control over and now we can just sit back and relax to see if we bear fruit, as it were. Here is the challenge, however: I CAN'T WAIT! dangit! And I certainly cannot continue through a day, or several days, knowing something may be taking place in my body and not allow myself to analyze every little thing to death. We're talking about someone here who has self-diagnosed probably 20 terminal and non-terminal illnesses in herself in the last week. Ok, that may be an exaggeration, but still. (I'm just gonna clarify here and say that I am not dying, or almost dying, I'm just a hypochondriac, or in layman's terms, a woman). I gotta know! The fact is that on every website that deals with early pregnancy symptoms--and believe me I've visited every one--they make it pretty clear that symptoms before a missed period can't be trusted. They could be ovulation symptoms, they could be PMS symptoms, or any number of other things. But visit any forum of women currently in the two-week-limbo, as I like to call it, and we are all experiencing at least 5 things that (cross our fingers) <i>most likely</i> spell baby for us. Some of us may guard our speech and say <i>I hope that means a positive test is coming my way, </i>but really, you should know, we've already convinced ourselves. You might be asking yourself, why I seem to think of myself as such an expert on the subject since I've only been trying for a month. Well let me help you understand how serious of an issue this two-week-wait is for me. <i>Every single month</i> that I have been married I have, pretty successfully convinced myself that I was pregnant. Even though I knew that the chances were little none. Every month. So if I can't keep myself from going insane even when there's little to no hope, how can you expect me to keep it cool when I know we very well could be--PREGNANT!?! Aaaaahhhh! If I have bald patches next time I see you, you'll know why, alright. It's this freakin' baby. I'll be able to test on Halloween, so I'll let you know if I've acquired a spooky little stranger, or if all my possible baby symptoms are just an apparition.Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-31162898327567629952010-10-11T17:57:00.001-07:002010-10-11T18:23:40.188-07:00I've got to have SOMETHING to do while I'm waiting for school to start...So, John and I safely returned from Europe last week. If you'd like to get an overview of most of it you can go to http://www.migasj.blogspot.com <div>Now I am just at home...doing pretty much nothing...ALL THE TIME...</div><div>I start my instructor training and Northwest Hair Academy in November, but until then I am kind of trying to somehow justify getting no housework done even though I'm at home by myself all day. </div><div>One rather exciting distraction has been educating myself on the surprisingly exact science of making a baby. I know what you're thinking--shouldn't I have learned this in health class? Shouldn't I know about the birds and the bees by now after two years of happy and wonderful marriage?...well not so fast you apparently uniformed and overly judgemental reader. It's not all that simple. Some people are lucky enough to come upon the accidental pregnancy here and there...but not ol' Cherie, oh no. I've been crossing my fingers for an accident for two years now (27 cycles actually, but who's counting?). But it turns out those people over at Trojan apparently know what they're doing and we've been unfortunately well protected up to this point. I have, however, finally convinced the Mr. that now is a great time to start a family, and I'm not leaving it to chance anymore. I'm being proactive with my procreation, as it were. I am reading books, taking temperatures, checking consistencies, and counting down the days to expected ovulation. My husband claims that he can sense fertility, and while I've assured him that it could take several months to conceive, he is convinced I'm going to get pregnant right away. I don't put any stock in his apparent "sixth sense," and I'm not going to let the whole thing rest on his ability to "just tell," as he says with a nervous gulp. I do hope that he's right, though. Cause I am incredibly excited to move into this next phase of life. Let's just hope I can get the living room cleaned up by the time the baby comes. </div>Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-75777353928846238602010-09-09T11:50:00.000-07:002010-09-09T12:22:45.287-07:00But seriously...I really did make a mess. My house is alarming close to becoming a candidate for a "Hoarders" intervention. <div>Except that I'm not hoarding anything, I just haven't unpacked over half of the boxes from the move...back in June. I don't have a problem with compulsive spending either. If anything I have an issue with pre-purchase buyer's remorse which keeps me from buying things that I want even if I have the money...but that's a different issue for a different time. </div><div>Anyway, I'm just trying to give myself a good outlook...a positive personal prognosis. I can make this place liveable--I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...</div><div>How does one develop the skill of organization?</div><div>Also, when do we learn the basic concepts of "follow-through?"</div><div>I want to create a home that is as tidy and beautiful as my grandma's, without developing resentment for or from my husband. </div><div>For a while I was just consoling myself in the fact that I'm an artist, I don't <i>organize.</i> But in retrospect that didn't really solve the problem, it probably just compounded it. There has to be a way for an eccentric, irresponsible, employed(sometimes) woman of today such as myself to keep a clean freakin' home!</div><div>Anybody have a good tip or two on how to be a great housewife with a job and a social life?</div><div><br /></div>Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-68954261578733818282010-08-01T14:05:00.000-07:002010-08-01T14:47:32.225-07:00BEDASo, Laura, my sister, informed me that we have just begun "BEDA", or Blog Every Day in August...I haven't blogged in ages, and this challenge was exciting to me. So here we are on August 1, and I am going to write in my blog, gosh darn it. <div>If you know me very well at all I am sure you are aware of, and understandably annoyed at my ability to take any and every situation I am in a bring to mind a memory of my short stay in India--which occured, I hate to admit, five years ago last month. Where did the time go? I have wanted to return since the day I came home, but the choices I have made, both good and bad have barred me for doing so. I bring it up now because when I read the acronym BEDA, I was immediately taken back there, as I so often am, being reminded of the term "beda" which I learned to use while shopping in Bangalore. It means "don't want" in Kannada. Kannada is one of India's official languages, and is the official language of the state of Karnataka, where we spent the majority of our time...or at least where we had a base of sorts which we frequently returned to. When I return to India, I will also return to Karnataka without a doubt, because it is India to me. </div><div>So, with this first BEDA entry, I considered writing about things <i>nanage beda</i> ( I do not want).</div><div>For instance, I do not want to have life without meaning. I do not want to have relationships with God or man that lack substance. I do not want to lose the joy in my marriage. </div><div>But then I thought again--can you follow me throught the tangles of my crazy, overly analytical brain?--I don't believe in letting what I'm running from become the thing I'm running toward. If I put it in front of me it becomes my focus and I cannot see the goal at all. So instead, I'm going to write about things <i>nanage becu (</i>I want). </div><div>I want to live a life with meaning.</div><div>I want relationship with both God and man that is substantive, fruitful, fulfilling, dangerous, overwhelming, challenging, painful, filled with love, understanding, grace and mercy. </div><div>I want to love you.</div><div>I want to love me.</div><div>I want to have a marriage with no looming expiration date.</div><div>I want to have a life with no looming expiration date. </div><div>I want the promises my <i>Appa</i> gave me. </div><div>I want integrity with the ability to grow and learn and change.</div><div>I want maturity with the ability to be as foolish and ridiculous as a child. </div><div>I want the independent thought that leads to a codependent existence. </div><div>And I need grace. </div><div>"I need more grace than I thought" </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div></div>Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-34710441180554903302010-05-03T10:41:00.000-07:002010-05-03T12:27:17.098-07:00I have been thinking a lot lately about justice. The current political climate has really made me question, not my faith, but my association with Christians. I have always been a little peeved about the way Jesus had been portrayed in this country (he apparently hates women, the gay community, the poor, our President, and probably immigrants, too). But all of that irritation has brought me to my whits end this last year. I have come to the conclusion that a wrong sense of justice is probably to blame for all of this hatred coming from the "followers" of Christ (not from Christ himself, as He did go through quite a lot to make sure that as many as would come could be included in His incredible, vast, unfaltering love and grace). You see, as Americans, and as capitalists, justice means each one getting what he deserves. When we bring a man to justice in our legal system, we are ensuring that he receives an equal punishment for his crime. Justice is fairness, and it says that I am owed exactly what I have put out. I worked hard, I should receive the fruits of my labor. I did something wrong, I must pay the consequences. This idea of justice is so strong that we are actually seeing people who call themselves Christians crying out for justice proclaiming, "NO! I WILL NOT LET MY JUST REWARDS GO TO THOSE WHO DO NOT DESERVE IT! I am certainly not going to let some lazy so and so have something he did not work for like I did." This kind of sentiment is to be expected from those who have never experienced the grace of the King, but from those who have "tasted the heavenly gift, who have shared in the Holy Spirit, who have tasted the goodness of the word of God," it is shocking; it is despicable. I hate to be the bearer of good news here, but our entire belief system is centered on the amazing fact that we are not going to get what we deserve. If you sit for a while and really consider it, you find out that if justice is each one getting what he deserves, then our God is not just at all. He found a loophole in His own system, let one man pay all our debt, and called it good. Dude, what the heck, you guys? That is not fair! After all Jesus went through, and to add insult to injury, you can't even pay the guy back. There's nothing you could possibly do that would cover all that he's done for you. Some people would then say, "I paid the debt for you, so just get that back to me whenever you can." But Jesus, knowing we can't ever pay is just like, "Forget it don't even worry about it. Let's just hang out and I can show you how to make the most out of your new debt-free life." And this kind of thinking isn't a new thing for God. Remember back in Israel when he made that rule about the Year of Jubilee when all debts would be forgiven, land would be given back, slaves set free, etc. This wasn't just figurative speech, God was telling his people to relinquish things they had worked hard for every seven years so everyone could start fresh and new. Talk about totally unfair. If I was a landowner back then, I think I might have forgotten to follow that law. Well guess what? So did the Israelites. They never did follow through with that one. Why not? Because it sucks! It's totally unfair. I work really hard for seven years then I have to give up a bunch of stuff? Forget it.<div><br /> <div>Okay, what I'm getting at here is that clearly, our capitalist american minds have developed a completely wrong idea of what Justice is to God. When I was at ministry school, our Pastor said something that I hopefully will never forget. He (Pastor Bill Johnson) said "The justice of God is reconciliation." When you look over scripture you realize that this really hits the nail on the head. So we fell in the Garden, and everything changed. Ever since the goal has been fixing that rift. He wants to get back together and in terms of his dealings with humanity that has clearly been at the forefront of his thoughts and motivation. I guess that explains why I can't find a single place int he Bible when God is talking about how important it is for me to get ahead in the world and have lots of stuff and be self sufficient at the expense of the poor and down-trodden. The only thing I really find on the subject is when the prophets are letting Israel know why they're about to go through some really bad stuff--because they worshipped idols and they didn't take care of their poor. Wow. If God is judging this country is it because of all the unbelievers doing what unbelievers do? Or is it because of all the believers doing what unbelievers do. I would even venture to suppose that maybe God isn't judging us at all, we are just experiencing the only conclusion that can come when each man considers himself God, his own needs the foremost among men, and his own gain the ultimate and most sacred goal. </div><div><br /></div><div>I will say that I do agree that government shouldn't be in charge of taking care of the poor. Why should the world have that responsibility? They don't know grace, they aren't in a position to give. It is absolutely the responsibility of the followers of God to take care of people--to love them, provide for them, sacrifice for them. After all, that's the example our Dad set for us. If you really want to be set apart from the world, and start living in the Kingdom, I challenge you, and myself, to set aside the capitalism that you've been indoctrinated with, and start giving sacrificially--giving of your time, your money, your heart, your life, to the heart of God. "Be perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect." </div><div>Can we please stop putting all of our effort into protesting against what people who don't know God choose to do with their lives? Children in THIS country are going without food and medical care. I would like to protest that fact. I'm gonna stand outside a bunch of churches with signs that say "God hates suffering. Do something about it." Are you aware that when God gave Adam the responsibility to look after the earth in Genesis, that he didn't lose that responsibility after the fall? We're made to be caretakers, people. We can't do that job without the one who owns the property. That's why we have to pray. Give me the tools, show me what to do, help me see true, heavenly justice in this world, Father. </div><div><br /></div></div>Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-82682821256488428562010-03-20T10:36:00.001-07:002010-03-20T11:12:15.676-07:00American Apparel here we come!What a beautiful Saturday in the greater Seattle area! I think we might actually leave the house today after I give Johnny a haircut suitable for his Sunday photo shoot. Maybe I'll start the outside activities a little early by cutting his hair on the back porch. Two birds with one stone--that's how I roll. <div>That's right, Johnny is going to be in a little photo shoot tomorrow. If you've seen my husband before you know that he is ruggedly handsome. Fortunately for me he is not so aware of this fact that he has yet realized that is he too hot for me--but he is just aware enough to have developed a small interest in fashion, and more specifically, modeling. He did a little stint when he was about 8 or so with a small talent agency in Seattle. His mother has some wonderful videos from that time. I always love seeing that stuff. Anyhow, he has set his sights on American Apparel for two reasons: 1, he loves their clothes, and 2, he looks amazing in them. He had been throwing around the idea of moving down to L.A. to pursue this dream for about a year or so, with no real movement in that direction. Then, a few weeks ago he came upon an ad on their website. It turns out that you don't need an agent or an interview or anything to become a model for AA, you just need a picture-which you can submit via the website. Just about that time we started doing fundraising at school for Paul Mitchell Schools' annual "Fun-raising" campaign. Our lovely receptionist has a degree in photography which will be taking her out of the school in less than a week now. But before she goes she's put together a little fundraiser of her own. For only $25 that is going to charity, Johnny is going to be professionally photographed in all his fluorescent, spandexed, American Apparel glory. The pictures are supposed to be for students to show off their talent and add to their portfolios so I guess I'm gonna try my best to make his hair look as fierce as the rest of him. Wish me luck!</div>Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7900745161914970398.post-9131438124574530372010-03-19T18:33:00.000-07:002010-03-20T11:13:14.199-07:003.19.10I have been trying to write a new song for approximately three years now. Every time I sit down with my guitar I find that everything I write falls desperately short of what I am dying to say. I can't get it across musically these days--which is so upsetting because music is supposed to be an outlet for frustration or emotion or whatever else. It always has been for me. And yet, I flounder. I am sad and embarrassed. But here I am. Maybe I can accomplish an outpouring by removing silly conditions like rhyme and flow, hook, chorus, etc. <div><br /></div><div>I am tired of religion. It is so much more than boring, it is exhausting. It was a giant waste of my time and I want to crumple it up in a ball and toss it across the room into a waiting trash bin. It was an endeavor that I didn't know I had embarked upon. Years later, after well meaning summer camps and youth group events, I am waist-deep in it and the harder I try to get out of it, the more difficult it becomes. As cliche as that sounds, I was once entrenched waste deep in rancid jungle mud in central America, so I can speak from experience. It's frightening, and it smells awful. Fortunately, in that life-threatening situation my Youth Pastor pulled me and my shoes out of the muck. He also did his very best in those years to keep all of us clear of religious putrescence, and I think he did a pretty ok job. The problem at the time is that I wasn't being given the full picture. I was doing my best with the resources I was being given, but I need the shade of the jungle as well as the sunshine on the beach. Are you following me? My church was willing to accept the existence of God, and the greatness of God, as long as He didn't make a mess. Before I continue I want to say that I loved my church and I still do, but I am literally pained when I consider how GREAT God is, and how small we have allowed Him to become in our lives. How do we shrink such a huge force? Religion. I don't mean religion like what I choose to believe, but religion in the sense of the self-imposed set of A-Z that we must accomplish in order to call ourselves Christians. We don't do this and we do, do that. It is ludicrous. One of my favorite songs expresses this frustration best :</div><div>"<i>When all that we eat brings us little relief, we don't know quite what else to do. We have all our beliefs, but we don't want our beliefs God of Peace, we want You.</i>" <i> -Four Word Letter by mewithoutYou</i></div><div>We've sort of slowly begun to arrive at this point as a church, with those that don't really want Him as much as they want their beliefs rising up in dismay at what they're seeing. I can say, truly that everything is happening at what seems like a snails pace to me. I just want to get there. I just want to see us arrive at the point when we can triumphantly take our place in the body of Christ, letting hands be hands and feet be feet and...</div><div>let me get back to my own situation, that whole business is way to big to try to sort out right now. </div><div>I just grew up with a lot dos and don'ts in reference to Jesus. What I really want is relationship. Which is good, because I'm pretty sure that's what he wants also. That whole walking with Adam and Eve in the Garden thing, and then orchestrating the great reunion after the fall through His Son. It's always been about relationship. That's why the best men and women in the Bible aren't the ones that it says followed the law the best, but the one who were friends with God even when the Holy Spirit wasn't accessible to everyone. That is a key point for me actually. Cause, before He went to the cross, according to the book of John, Jesus talked with His disciples a lot about the Holy Spirit who would be coming <i>after</i> he was gone. Sure enough He showed up in the upper room after Jesus had ascended and his disciples were praying and fasting and waiting--no ministry happened between that time, they just waited. Since then we've been able to talk to God without a temple and a curtain, and a priest. God became so much closer. But consider those like David who knew God before the curtain was torn. And consider that God, Almighty was inclined to turn His ear to His servant who sought after that closeness. That's what He wants from me! That is what He is looking for. Closeness. So much of my life in church has been works. What can I do. I don't blame the church. I think it's just how we are as human beings. We need structure and and instruction. That's why it's so hard for me to break out of this stuff in the first place. I need to see that I'm getting somewhere better, becoming something better. But here's the thing. In my life, I think the only place where I don't give myself rules and goals to meet and structure is in my relationships. In my marriage, in my friendships and in my family I don't have a quota. I don't have to become someone great or achieve anything, and yet, I am so incredibly fulfilled with the people that I love. It is rest. It is freedom. That is what I want in my relationship to my God. I want the love that I have in a divine capacity. I am a spiritual being, and my life on earth is a dark reflection of my life with Christ. Jesus said he came that we may have life and have it to the full and I've got to have it. I am burning for it. There is more and it's not gonna be found in any trite push for excellence on my part. It's gonna come from resignation. I give up. I just want God.</div>Cherie Migashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05781728975237563259noreply@blogger.com1