More

Since moving to Nashville just a couple months ago, our time of "settling in" hasn't been the easiest.  We knew it would come with challenges, but we could never have anticipated some of the craziness we've encountered.  While my husband's job search continues (prayers appreciated as always!) we have started to hit a stride of "normalcy" in settling into our new home.  It's a great feeling!

As I was laying in bed a few nights ago, I did what I usually do when I can't fall asleep:  I counted my blessings.  This has become an effective "default" for me to turn to in the wee hours of the morning, always helping me focus on the goodness and faithfulness of God instead of the worries that too often plague my thoughts at such a vulnerable hour.

Just as I was telling God how especially thankful I was for my daughters, that they are both healthy, and sound asleep in their beds, my heart began to swell with gratitude.  Indeed, we do have much.

Then, I began to pray for a job for Josh.  Again.  I mean, I can't tell you how many times I have to surrender this request to God throughout the day. 

 

Please, please, please Lord, please use his talents in work that would bring you honor and please let someone call him soon with an interview, and please let it be the perfect job for him!  Please!  

Right then, right in the middle of my appeal, a voice of doubt interrupted with, "Who are YOU, to be asking for MORE?  How can you list all that you've been given and then ask for MORE?"  

I paused for a moment.  

Then, in what I can only describe as a "Holy Ghost moment" a new thought, armed with the truth of Christ, refuted with authoritative clarity:  How? How can I ask for more?  Because I worship the GOD OF EVERYTHING.

Whoa.

I was stopped in my tracks right then and there.  Peace rushed over me as I continued my prayer to ask God for a job for Josh.  And then, I just laid in bed and pondered the truth that was spoken through me.  

I worship the God of everything.  He isn't just the God of things that go well.  He isn't just the God of healthy babies, sleeping husbands, and safe apartments.  He isn't just the God of my school work and good weather.  He isn't just the God of my gratitude.  HE is the God of MORE.

When you worship the God of everything - it's okay to never run out of requests.  It's not only okay - it's awesome!  He wants you to come to HIM for everything.  

My doubts and frustrations and worries can interrupt my focus so many times.  There's plenty to distract me from the truth that God is in control and hasn't forgotten about our needs.  But, the reminder that I worship the God of everything is, indeed, ALL I need.  It certainly helped me that night as I drifted off to sleep.  Turns out, the armor of God makes for pretty comfortable pajamas.

Ephesians 6:10-18New International Reader's Version (NIRV)God’s Armor10 Finally, let the Lord make you strong. Depend on his mighty power. 11 Put on all of God’s armor. Then you can stand firm against the devil’s evil plans. 12 Our fight is not against human beings. It is against the rulers, the authorities and the powers of this dark world. It is against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly world.
13 So put on all of God’s armor. Evil days will come. But you will be able to stand up to anything. And after you have done everything you can, you will still be standing.
14 So stand firm. Put the belt of truth around your waist. Put the armor of godliness on your chest. 15 Wear on your feet what will prepare you to tell the good news of peace. 16 Also, pick up the shield of faith. With it you can put out all of the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Put on the helmet of salvation. And take the sword of the Holy Spirit. The sword is God’s word.
18 At all times, pray by the power of the Spirit. Pray all kinds of prayers. Be watchful, so that you can pray. Always keep on praying for all of God’s people.

You Can't Handle the Tooth

There is just too much teething going on at the Pardy house. Ok, maybe not exclusively "teething" - but teeth-related-incidents nonetheless. Between Matilda's teeth charging through her little gums and my saga of dental perils that seemingly have no end, we are sorry bunch of smilers at our place these days.

I have never been a fan of the dentist. I don't have any hugely traumatic story to think back to, so I don't know why I have developed such a dentophobia, but there are many many horrible things I would rather do than go to the dentist (labor anyone? *cringe*)

My mother always took us to the dentist on a regular basis (thanks mom!) We would go see Dr. Hanson at his little office that (though legit on the inside) resembled a renovated-Mexican-restaurant-turned-dentist-lair. Maybe that sounds familiar to folks around here, but in Lyons, Kansas a Spanish-style-dwelling stood out among the lot. (Maybe that's why stucco can still make me wince?) Dr. Hanson was nice enough, though I still remember his "disappointment glance" as he would ask me about the frequency of my flossing. I hate flossing. I just hate it. I mean, if there's only a few things you know about me, you probably know I hate flossing...that's how much I hate it. I think it is because my teeth are so close together? Or maybe because I know the outcome will only lead to bleeding and having to slosh and gargle again and again until your spit turns from disdainful brown to clear again. Yuck. Dentists will tell you "bleeding is good when you floss - keep it up and soon you won't bleed"...ugh, what kind of terrible logic is that? I remember thinking as a kid that flossing must be a horrible conspiracy against children - right up there with eating spinach and going to bed early. But, unlike the latter responsibilities, I have not grown to love flossing as I've gotten older. I still hate flossing.

The last time I engaged in this necessary evil, it only led to worse and worse news. There I was, flossing with some new "glide floss" which promised to be less intrusive than the rope-like floss my husband prefers (How can he use that stuff? Is he tying boy scout knots in there? You could anchor a small ship with that stuff!) I get to in between my third and fourth teeth on my upper left side and nightmare of all nightmares - the floss is stuck. I take a deep breath. "Just pull gently. Ok, pull harder. Whew, okay, no worries, this stuff is meant for this - just yank the darn thing out!" One yank later and I'm holding a tiny chunk in my hand. EWW - what IS that? How long has that been stuck up there? Then I navigate my tongue to the newly found void in my upper deck...and realize...it's my TOOTH. I just flossed out a chunk of my own tooth! (Did I mention I hate flossing?)

Three trips to the dentist later, I have had three root canals in the last three weeks. I know, I know, you are so jealous. Turns out the chipped tooth was the easy one to fix - go figure. As with most trips to the dentist (or the mechanic, or the plumber...do these guys all work together?) they discovered something worse in a different tooth that I didn't even know about, nor did I go in for. Yes, hidden in the Xray (by the way, don't you just love those bite-wing Xray things? Could they make those any less comfortable, really?) they discovered an infection in my last molar. They've now tried to root-canal-it twice, but it is too calcified to fix. They are going to attempt one more time (per my pleading) before they decide to extract the tooth altogether. (I am praying to save the tooth, because otherwise I basically have to just say au revoir to the sucker - to purchase an implant would cost around $4,000 even with insurance...and last time I checked, the tooth fairy was not handing out that kind of cash for infected molars.)

Meanwhile, while I'm trying to cope with my dentophobia by loading my iPod with the Beach Boys and tell myself to calmly envision a tranquil setting in my head to drown out the sound of the drill...my sweet baby girl is teething! Matilda already has two bottom teeth. They poked through a couple months ago and she only had a couple nights of discomfort before they were through and soon enough she was grinning with her new chompers. Now, I know her top teethies have got to be on their way - though they have yet to make an appearance. I know she is teething because she's got all the wonderful symptoms - ear tugging, bouts of fit-throwing and extra drooling and nibbling, etc...it's lovely. Poor baby. I'm so glad we don't remember this time in our lives. I'm highly sympathetic for her, and I think it is no coincidence that God is having me experience my own dental angst at the same time. We are just a mess! (I'll admit that I've probably used her baby orajel more than she has - we should really have bought stock in that company! Ha!)

I never anticipated bonding with my daughter over teething. As my teeth are falling out, hers are just peeking their way through! In fact, my dental specialist told me that my teeth issues are most likely linked to my having had a baby. Evidently it is very common for women to suffer teeth decay during and after pregnancy, either because you aren't able to go to the dentist during pregnancy (they don't allow it) or because of some sort of body-chemistry/parasite-like/your-baby-sucked-all-necessary-nutrients-from-your-body kind of reason. Hmm, thanks Matilda. Nevertheless, as we snuggle on the couch and watch another Amy Adams movie together and I kiss her with my half-numbed lips and she looks up at me while she slurps on the end of a frozen wash cloth, I can't help but smile...smile with my rotten-toothed-smile, indeed. Afterall, I love spending time with this little gal, and if I can relate to her on a closer level (even if it means a little pain) - then that is something I can truly sink my teeth into. ;)