Recovery Lessons

In a home full of kid messes and visual chaos, I'm glad I've been adamant about keeping my bedroom a sanctuary because I've spent most of the last two weeks holed up in here. Now that my Percocet is used up, I feel comfortable telling the Internet I'm recovering from back surgery.

This comes after four years of lower back pain that started just a few months after the birth of our third child. As I worked hard in high-intensity gym classes over that first postpartum year to lose the baby weight, my pain increased. A MRI in spring of 2014 revealed a vertebra 9 mm out of place, squeezing my spinal cord and putting added pressure on one of my discs. Unwilling to undergo surgery at that point, we opted for pain management. I tried epidural injections, which we stopped when their insane cost outweighed the minimal benefit. I noticed an increase in pain back this summer and had another MRI in July, and it showed the bone had continued to shift to 14 mm out of place (see image below). By the time I made it to an orthopedic surgeon in September, an x-ray revealed a further shift to 17 mm. That's about half the diameter of a vertebral body, the ortho reported, adding that if I put off surgery to the new year, I would risk paralysis. That prognosis being said, and seeing the image of a piece of my spine sticking out like a Jenga block, I was ready to be cut.

So on Sept. 26, I had a laminectomy and fusion of L4 and L5. That's right - I am now bionic, featuring rods and screws and prepared to hold up every airport TSA screening line. The procedure went fine, except my surgeons uncovered a tear in my dura mater, the sheath covering the spinal cord. Saying the tear likely was caused by a misplaced needle during one of my several epidurals (including one for each of my kids), one of the surgeons patched it. I spent the first 48 hours post-op flat on my back to allow the patch to heal and in the most intense pain outside of childbirth I've ever experienced.

I slept through most of the first several days, both at the hospital and home. Thankfully, my mother-in-law flew up from Orlando to help Aaron with the kids. We just hired a nanny to take over when she flies home, as I won't be allowed to lift anything for who knows how long.

The most comfortable position, well, doesn't really exist. However, sitting and standing for long periods bring worse pain than I had before surgery, so I'm horizontal most of the time. When I do get up, I have to wear the above-pictured back brace. I know what you're thinking - Where can I get one of those beauties? Well, not just anywhere. They are sold exclusively at my ortho's office and are so fab you don't even get to know how much they cost. Blue Cross/Blue Shield will inform you later. If you do manage to snag one, pair it with yoga pants and a makeup-free face to complete the look. Maybe a top knot for the hair - I really didn't have myself together when that photo was taken. Be sure to let everyone see you attempt to sit on a couch with it on, because stiffly rocking while trying to find your cozy spot (visualize a turtle caught on its back) is so chic.

This has been a humbling experience, to say the least. I love housewifery and motherhood, even if the latter exhausts and frustrates me to no end. I take a ton of pride - you know, that thing God says He hates - in caring for my family and making our household run smoothly. Aaron told me once that I have an addiction to being needed, and I've since discovered he is absolutely right. I delight in being capable and taking care of business. I love cooking yummy meals. Looking over a tidy home, despite the three kids and a dog, and knowing I made it that way makes me feel like I've beaten the odds. But the Lord has a way of showing His children when they've put themselves on the throne, when they've reveled in their own strength rather than in His. And I have been guilty.

Not being able to bend, twist or lift has left me with exactly zero ability to do my thing. Do you have any idea how many things I drop in a day? I'm asking my children to fetch things lest I have to pick them up with my toes (although I've gotten rather good at this). They've had to help more than they're used to, which actually is a big plus! The floors are dusty. What is that mystery smell in the kitchen? I don't even want to know what debris lurks under those couch cushions, but I'm dying to rip the couch apart to clean it.

Apart from coming to terms with my pride, I'm battling other troublesome attributes that haunt me, like perfectionism. Who cares if the kids have had a blanket fort pitched in the living room for three days? Really, Lord, do I have to wear the back brace? Really? I may or may not have been incredibly cranky with my family. You can ask them about that later, Lord help me. Humans are capable of doing the most awful things when they're in pain. I'm grateful that I just get salty and short-tempered, although that's bad enough for the family. I also carry an addiction to exercise and, with it, the terrifying premonition that when I graduate from yoga pants I'll discover I no longer fit into my regular pants.

We've established that pride in self is bad, but can I say with righteousness that I'm proud of my husband? He has completely re-arranged his everyday to fill in the gaps of my absence. He has encouraged and held me when I've burst into tears over the pain. And over nothing in particular - I was off my meds for a while, too.

And let me just say that I am so in love with the body of Christ! I can't even count how many in our community of believers came to visit me in the hospital. I may have been too drugged to recall what we talked about, but I will always remember that you were there! You prayed over me. You brought me flowers and sweet notes, care packages of boredom-busters and hot meals. You have arranged play dates to occupy my lively brood. You've shown up to walk my dog, who has loyally stayed by my bed-ridden side. How beautiful are the hands and feet, indeed!

You guys, it's so true that the Lord wastes no trial. He's working in my heart as well as my spine, and He always brings beauty out of the ashes. I've had more focused time to pray, not just troll Facebook and binge watch the first few episodes of This is Us, although I've done all of these.

What all of that said, thank you for walking beside me these last couple of weeks. Your friendship and fellowship has meant the world to me and my family. We love you and know our Lord smiles at His people taking care of one another!

Of Mother's Day and Messes

We're coming off a whirlwind kind of period at the Johnson house. I turned 39 a couple of weeks ago, got an ear infection and haven't heard anything out of my left ear since. And all within the last few days my husband and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary, the Kentucky Derby ran in our city and we endured Mother's Day. I say "endured" because there's something about major holidays that evokes my children to over-the-top crazy behavior - sort of like a full moon. Last Mother's Day, for example, their antics made their grandmother cry.

So yesterday one child, who shall remain nameless here, threw such a mighty tantrum just before dinner that he/she threw up. And nothing says, "I love and appreciate you, Mom" like vomit on white carpet. Thank you, Aaron, for cleaning it up while I cried over the grill.

I had hoped that today would be a clean-slate kind of day. We would push the reset button and wake up to new possibilities, new mercy - maybe even new hearing! Today, however, was not my day. One child woke up earlier than the other and started watching a show for which the other had not given approval, and so it began. A hunger strike. Marathon complaining. Repeated requests to get ready for school met with a disgruntled kid staring into the abyss. We get into the car without jackets - I forgot to encourage them to wear them, so I was rebuked for "not letting them have coats" on such a brisk morning.

On the drive I began my speech: "Guys, clearly we have had a rough morning, but that doesn't mean we have to have a bad day. All of us are human and we make mistakes and forget things," I began. Somewhere in the monologue I reassured them that even when I correct them I am doing so out of love.

"You guys will never know how much I love you," I said, adding for emphasis, "I would die for you."

"Well, why don't you just die?" one of my  angels said into my good ear.

I looked back to see a smirk. The kid didn't mean it - of course he/she didn't. But that really didn't matter in the moment. I cried. I prayed for them in carpool as usual, only sobbing. They didn't say a word. They just hopped out of the car and trotted into the building like any other morning.

I returned home to lament to my unsuspecting husband how life was just a wreck. Case in point, we received notice Friday that our yard is in violation of the homeowner's association guidelines because of our epic weeds. They were really impressive, although I doubt our neighbors would describe them as such. But if our home is a mess outside, it's because we can't get a handle on what's going on inside long enough to address it. It's cluttered, I'm behind on ironing, stacks of papers litter my kitchen counter, and then there are our offspring. Homework often is a tear-filled nightmare. We can't keep up with events, emails and stuff to send in for their classrooms. Goodness, I can't even get into their various and sundry issues, let alone how they interact with my own.

So today I'm feeling defeated, but I do recognize that it's just an emotion. Emotions aren't good or bad in and of themselves, and thank the Lord they pass. I am praying for strength through Christ, for perspective and perseverance. For starters, the Lord brought this to my attention in today's reading. It's from Joanna Weaver's Having a Mary Spirit in a Martha World, and I hope it encourages you as it did me:

St. Augustine once preached a sermon in which he proposed a kind of self-test to see if we truly love God:

"Suppose God proposed to you a deal and said, 'I will give you anything you want. You can possess the whole world. Nothing will be impossible for you... Nothing will be a sin, nothing forbidden. You will never die, never have pain, never have anything you do not want and always have everything you do want--except for just one thing: you will never see my face.'

Augustine closed with a question:

"Did a chill rise in your hearts when you heard the words, 'you will never see my face?' That chill is the most precious thing in you; that is the pure love of God."

I want that chill to resonate in me because on days like this I so want to see the Lord's face. If the whole world crumbles beneath my feet today, let me see His face.

Dear Dr. Patel, please authorize my refill

It's only been three days since I ran out of Citalopram, but if I don't get those glorious little pills back in my possession, by the time Thanksgiving Day rolls around I may or may not have to primal scream at the dinner table right there in front of my mamaw. The kids will start crying, my poor husband will go hide in the basement, but I'm pretty sure my dad will laugh because, well, this sort of thing isn't happening to him anymore.

I started taking this wonder drug about five years ago, when my older two children were just starting to test the limits of my sanity. They hadn't even mastered their craft yet. It wasn't that they were unusually rowdy kids, but I found myself to be so much less than the mother I had once envisioned I'd be. Their unending arguments and physical tussles would set my teeth on edge, and to be completely honest, I felt rage welling up inside. It truly frightened me. After a lot of prayer, counsel from Christians I trusted and internal back-and-forth, I decided to give medicinal intervention a try.

Those of us in church circles know all too well the stigma that comes along with taking antidepressants.  There's this unspoken notion that we don't fully rely on the Lord for strength and joy. And, of course, how could we not be so in love with our precious children that we would need a Mother's Little Helper to get through a day of homeschooling, baking, cleaning and being thin, beautiful and generally awesome--right? Let me stop you right there and tell you I don't do all that stuff, mkay?

What added to my anxiety was the judgement I've felt as a flawed mom from other moms--and some of them in the Church--that had built up in me since having my babies.  I've noticed the stares, heard the whispering and felt the judgement when my kids act up. One example burned into my heart happened while walking my two little guys to the car after a Bible study. At the time, my son was not yet 3 and was a runner; I was extremely pregnant with my third and did well to waddle. He wriggled his hand free of mine and took off toward the parking lot. Since he's still with us, you can deduce that I caught him, but no thanks to the gaggle of women standing outside who witnessed the whole thing and did absolutely nothing to help. One in particular who had seen me do the panicked quick waddle after my straying sheep actually exclaimed afterward, "Whew, that was a close one, huh?" Thanks for noticing, I guess.

Since then, I've felt my mothering skills are less than stellar--mostly because of that awful inner dialogue that daily tells me I'm failing my kids. Being a mom is, by far, the most stressful job I've ever had--and that includes six years in a newsroom. It's 24/7. The stakes couldn't be higher and there are no breaks, no awards or vacation time. And after a while, it takes a toll. There's so much tension and self-disappointment sometimes I don't recognize myself. The enemy is powerful in this department, is he not?

But here are a few matters to ponder, my fellow church ladies: First, joy and happiness are not the same thing. Happiness is an emotion that often is dependent on circumstances. Emotions aren't good or bad--they just are. Emotions ebb and flow, so heaven help you if you make decisions based solely on them. Joy; however, is a state of knowing that no matter what life throws at us--and it will throw some pretty nasty curve balls, no matter who you are--your future is secure because of your relationship with Christ. Still, I struggled with the question of whether my stress related more to my sins of perfectionism and disappointment in having not achieved it than to a chemical imbalance. There was only one way to find out.

While you may suppose past generations of moms were able to raise several children without medicinal help, consider that our present culture isn't the same as it was for them. We're busier than ever, and the kids we are responsible for raising are expected to achieve more and to participate in more, earlier than ever. More is expected of us, ladies, and the standards are impossible. Plus, I bet you a dollar to a donut that if you could go back in time and offer a Prozac to your great-great-gramma, who got up at 4:30 a.m. to milk cows, help her husband work the farm and raise 12 kids, she'd take it--perhaps with a swig of whiskey.

Let me suggest to you that the aforementioned stigma exists only in your head. I've learned this in the last few years while in Bible studies, at least the ones where the ladies are willing to take off their masks. We all end up talking about our struggles to deal with growing families and the stress that all but overtakes us. In initially hushed tones, we talk about the diagnoses, the therapy sessions, the prescriptions. But once we come to the realization that we are in a sisterhood, we can relax and even laugh about it. Sometimes there also is joy that comes from knowing (to borrow a phrase from the Cheshire Cat) that "we're all mad here." And more than that silly pill, I need to know that you'll be there, dear sister, to laugh and cry with me.

Speaking of which... The beauty of Citalopram for me has been that it didn't alter my personality or cloud my thinking like some other meds have in the past. They all affect each person a bit differently, but this one merely helped me handle stress better. I can take the kids' loud, destructive antics without completely losing my stuff. Most of the time. The only thing I couldn't do, interestingly enough, was cry. Oh sure, if something truly sad happened--a relative dying or some other sort of tragedy--I would most definitely shed some tears. But the run-of-the-mill daily craziness isn't going to make me dissolve into a puddle as it once did.

So imagine my surprise when, sans scrip, I found myself crying in spin class this week. SPIN CLASS.  Linda Grady, I promise it wasn't your tobadas that made me misty. Some song lyric reminded me it was Veteran's Day. That reminded me of my papaw. And that reminded me how much I miss him. And then it was all over. I was mopping up more than sweat with that hand towel.

Not to state the obvious, but since running out of Citalopram I've been having some extra feelings. We took our annual family photos, which was extraordinarily bad timing. Getting three little kids to look in the same direction and smile nicely while refraining from hitting, poking, pushing, licking, stomping or calling one another some potty-related name is as likely as capturing a unicorn and keeping it in your backyard for a pet. At one point, the photographer had to remind me to breathe in and out. Poor thing. I may have been the worst behaved of the Johnson five that day.

I could use some extra grace, but I'm willing to bet that so do you, mama. Let's not forget we're in this thing together. So Lord, help us all. And, Dr. Patel, if you could just get on to that paper work, that would be great.

Sincerely,

Cheshire Cat

The Johnsons' 2014

So I just cleaned the kitchen from dinner and snuck away to start our annual New Year letter to friends and family only to discover that the last thing I wrote on this blog was last year's letter. Eek! It's not that I haven't had anything to say; I just rarely have time to write it down! Our 2014 was quite a whopper. Lots of activity and lots of wonderful times peppered with some pretty tough ones - but that's life, isn't it?

Aaron and I started the year with our annual week-long trip away from the kiddos - a cruise to St. Maartin, St. Kitts, San Juan and Haiti. We always have such a great time together, seeing new things and reminding ourselves why we committed to spending our lives together. This coming year's getaway to Maui will be supplied by Aaron's company - a reward for his hard work and success this year! And to that we say, "Yay, Marcus & Millichap!" In other travel adventures, as a whole family we spent spring break in Gulf Shores, Ala. with our good friends the Ormsbys, Father's Day week in Myrtle Beach with the Holbrook clan and discovered a new overnight destination sure to remain a favorite - Great Wolf Lodge, where Nora learned to howl :)

This fall Louisville gained a new resident, whom we like to call Grandma J. Aaron's mom Penny moved to a condo not far down the road - and just a stone's throw from Shelbyville Road's retail action, which I think she rather enjoys. We had spent eight years without any in-town relatives, so I can't tell you what a blessing it's been to have Grandma J so near. The kids are enjoying special time with her on a regular basis, and that's priceless.

Shall I even start with talk of our medical issues? What a year! After a MRI showed spinal stenosis and various other owies in my back, I've been learning to deal with new limitations and perpetual soreness. This getting older thing really stinks, but it could be so much worse! Aaron is finishing the year recovering from a harrowing battle with kidney stones - one he is enormously grateful to have behind him. I've watched my parents each struggle with their own physical woes. Mom had back surgery three weeks ago, after several months of pain that had her using a walker or wheelchair at times. About that same time we learned my dad has lymphoma; a slow-progressing form of the cancer, but an unwelcome diagnosis nonetheless. His prognosis is good, but this all has been a reminder of just how much my parents mean to me. It's also been a real gut check in my relationship with the Lord, whom I love and trust with everything in me. I'm praying for ever-increasing faith to accept whatever the future holds for any of us, all with praise to the One who holds our futures.

Truly the Lord has been good to us. Here's a look at what each of us has been up to this year:

Aaron
My biggest change this year has been taking a leadership position and co-teaching The Cord, a Sunday school class at Southeast Christian for young married couples. This entailed a new social group to pour into, many new couples to get to know and challenges to bring the Word of God to a different age range. It's a little strange being the ones bringing experience of marriage and raising kids to this group, as Tonia and I see ourselves in the midst of the struggle ourselves.
In the fall we picked up another co-teacher for The Cord, so Tonia and I started leading a year-long Discipleship Curriculum group for high school students. It's great to go back to teaching teenagers!
Work went very well this year, as a low interest rate environment combined with aggressive investor demand to push Kentucky multi-family prices to record levels. I set the Louisville record for highest price ever for a new apartment sale ($100K per unit); however, that record only lasted six months.  Our new revenue allowed us to pick up some new missionaries to support.
One of the highlights of the year, as always, was hosting attendants for the Global Missions Health Conference at Southeast Christian. In years past, we've met fulltime missionaries with years of ministry in the field and lots of amazing and inspirational stories to share. This year we had 15 college students - each considering missions - at our house during the conference. Their eagerness to reach the nations is energizing and is a big reason we have them stay with us!

Tonia
I've already told you most of what I've been up to - it's a perk that comes with authoring the letter - but I'll fill you in on the rest. People keep asking if I've been writing, and the short answer is "no." Have I been missing it? Absolutely! However, I know there will be a day when I'll have more spare moments than I'll know what to do with. Until then, I'm loving my days spent being a mom and wife to these wonderful people in my house!
I'm also loving the teaching and leadership opportunities I've had in several groups at church. The Women's DC group I co-led graduated in the Spring. I'm staying involved in this program through shepherding another group that began this fall in addition to co-leading the teen group Aaron mentioned. I also co-led a group for new believers called Understanding the Story this fall, and I can't tell you how much I gained from being around women so eager to learn and get involved. Sometimes seasoned believers need to hear Gospel basics with fresh ears to be re-energized, and this group really grew me in that way. Plus, they're just really great ladies :) So what's next? I'll be co-leading a Bible study for the women in The Cord; we'll begin with the book of James beginning Jan. 13. I hope to continue growing this community of wives and moms who love and support one another well. I hope to remain involved in Understanding the Story, and I may never leave DC!

Katie
Our first born just turned 7 and seems to be turning into a little lady right in front of our eyes. While she still enjoys roughhousing with her brother and pretending to be a cheetah, Katie's growing maturity shows in her thoughtful questions, expressions of empathy and increased willingness to try new things. She also had her first three lost teeth this year and has a brand new, beautiful smile!
She's taking a victory lap in kindergarten this year and is making wonderful strides in reading. Of course, her favorite subject remains art - and she's really good at it, I must say! Katie's classroom is next door to her brother's kindergarten class, which has turned out to be pretty cool. They have the same homework, attend the same field trips and see each other several times throughout the day, which seems to make them both happy and more comfortable. We'll see if they still feel that way in a few years.

Adam
Ah, the boy. Well, the blond hair is just about grown out, and at 5 he's just not a baby anymore. Sometimes I look at Adam and can't believe how dramatically he has changed in the last year. He's sailing through the academics of kindergarten, although he does get a note sent home from the teacher from time to time. Once she reported that Adam was singing while he did his work, and more recently she had to tell him twice to stop dancing in the hall. Is it wrong that I love those violations?
Outside of school, Adam has been dabbling in some recreational activities. He and Katie spent a lot of time in the neighborhood pool this summer, and Adam jumped off the diving board for the first time! He gave soccer a try this fall, and while he did stop a few balls as his team's goalie, Adam wasn't that interested. Oh well, on to something new next year. In the meantime, Adam is happy following in his daddy's footsteps and loves playing games on the iPad - namely, he enjoys spending time building things in his Minecraft world and then setting them on fire. Should we be worried?

Nora
As of today, our family has watched Frozen roughly 683 times, give or take, because Nora just can't get enough of it. Basically, when Nora finds something she loves she overdoses. I can't tell you how many sticks of string cheese she has consumed - she even asks for it for breakfast and, if I'm not quick enough, she'll fashion a ladder-like device to get it out of the fridge herself. We've listened to Pharrell's Happy ad nauseam, which actually didn't bother any of us because we're cool with just about anything that makes that sweet girl giggle. And you have to admit it's a great song :)
I know she's my kid and all, but she's so stinkin' cute I almost can't stand it.
Nora is one smart cookie, too. Have you ever heard a 2-year-old count to 12? I don't know where that came from because we haven't been practicing. And you know she's not using the potty regularly because her mother is such a good potty trainer. Seriously, ask brother how good I am at it. My only deduction is that she picks up on everything the rest of us say and do, and that's fine by me. Thank you, Lord, for this delightful, easy kid!

All things considered, no matter our momentary circumstances we can't thank God enough for how He provides for us - most of all, with the salvation He granted us through Jesus Christ. But also, we are blessed with the opportunity to live life with and love one another. May the Father grant you and yours a life of love, joy and peace in 2015!

The Johnsons

Happy New Year from the Johnsons

Greetings, family and friends! With mere hours of 2013 remaining, we send you love and laughter from Kentucky in much the same fashion we did last year - by way of a belated Christmas letter. We each learned new things and explored our world in our own unique ways. Most of all, we loved one another fiercely in good times and bad. Summing up a whole year of activity can be a little daunting, but 2013 went a little something like this:

Our first big event of the year was the kids' first trip to Disney World, made possible by bringing along our trusted babysitter Liz, who restored our adult-to-kid ratio to 1:1. The result is that we all had enormous fun! Mommy and Daddy enjoyed some nights out and the kids were amazed by all the wonder of Disney, although with their experience of Buzz Lightyear, Doc McStuffins and more princesses than their parents could name, we wondered whether they appreciated why Mickey Mouse was everywhere. They have no idea that - for a lack of a better term - he's the man. Then again, Katie and Adam seemed to have just as much fun at the hotel pool. Go figure.

We made our annual trip to Myrtle Beach with the Holbrook side of the family. Aaron
dreads the 11 hours of drive time, but this year went well with me doing most of the driving
while Aaron played an entire season of The Big Bang Theory on the iPad, narrating the
scenes to me. I didn't peek (much). Nora's feet got their inaugural dunk in the wet sand. She seemed nonplussed and spent about 20 minutes more on the beach before falling asleep in Pappy's arms and being carried back up to the condo for a nap. And that, my friends, is how vacations should be.

Aaron's annual California business conference in Napa Valley was greatly improved by bringing Tonia along (This letter is a team effort and this year my role is largely one of editing, but I'm so touched that Aaron wrote this of his own volition I'm leaving this sentence AS IS.). We briefly knocked around San Francisco before flying to Los Angeles to visit Aaron's longtime friend Gary Manning and family, which includes 10 kids (and counting!). We adore the Mannings and are taking copious notes on parenting. Aaron and Gary got in for a taping of "The Tonight Show," and we also had a lovely dinner out with my LA resident-cousin Aaron and his girlfriend Azra.

Those were some of our collective experiences, but here's a peek at what we've each been up to.

Aaron
After two years of going through the Discipleship Curriculum (DC) at Southeast Christian Church and two more years of teaching it, I finally graduated 12 other men from the program. I received an inscribed sword as a thank-you. It was a wonderful and powerful experience, but what now?  How do you replace four years of daily assignments, Bible reading and discussions? I ended up taking the church's teacher training course, or should I say "we" took it because when I told Tonia about my plans she said, "Sign me up, too!" After finishing the course we were asked to help teach a young adult Sunday school class called The Cord. We're enjoying getting to know the 40 or so people there while maintaining the wonderful friendships we found in our former class, Crossroads. Commercial real estate continues to be wonderful. I bought a post office to add to my small portfolio; hope they don't go out of business.

Tonia
I've been mulling over what to report about what I've done with my year and spent about a minute feeling a little embarrassed at how little space that would take. I'd love to tell you that I did a lot of writing, but there just wasn't much time for that. Again. Maybe next year? I did fall in love with kickboxing and added it to my exercise repertoire until my back simply refused to work anymore until I'm nicer to it; we're negotiating. Honestly, I've intentionally pared down my extracurriculars to focus on what I think makes the biggest impact. Most of the time I've been doing the mom thing. This was a year of adjusting from being a little overwhelmed by managing two little bundles of energy to being woefully outnumbered by three. I'm their chef, maid, teacher, referee, warden, counselor, driver, kisser of boo boos, bottom wiper, barber, alarm clock, DJ, dance partner, swim coach... Best job ever! The only other large time commitment I've made is to ministry in the DC program. The group of ladies I'm co-leading will graduate in May, bringing an end to my four-year stint. These ladies are so amazing; I don't know how much they're learning from me, but I've definitely grown under their influence! Meanwhile I've been on a committee looking at how to tweak the program for when Women's DC starts forming new groups this fall, and I can't wait to see where it goes from here! As for me, I'm praying about other ministry needs in which to become involved. We'll see where the Lord leads.

Katie
Our first baby just turned 6 this month and is midway through her kindergarten year, and now I can nod in sober agreement with all those people who warn how quickly time flies. Our little miss - who for a 24-hour period wanted to be addressed as Kathy - remains spunky at home and timid in most other places outside it. A new, bigger school took a couple of months to ease into for her, but she's now ready for Mom to quickly leave her at her classroom door before anyone spots her with me in my yoga pants. Katie expresses herself through drawing. Though it would be hard to miss the meaning of her pout, frown lines and a stamping foot, Katie makes sure we understand how she's feeling by leaving us little notes with sad faces on them. A formative wrestling opponent for her brother, Katie has shown one other athletic interest: swimming. She's eager to take to the pool again in January.

Adam
One benefit of having our kids close together is that we're getting an educational 2-for-1. Not really, of course; we're still paying preschool tuition for him. Bummer. Anyway, while quizzing his sister on her sight words, Aaron and I are amused when Adam often chimes in with the answer first. He's crazy smart, but he's also crazy sweet. He's quick with a cuddle or a compliment. Dubbed by his Pappy as "the silver tongue," Adam flashes a mouthful of teeth and showers adoration on, ahem, his momma. Actually, he's a bit of a ladies man. When we had 20 visiting college girls stay in our house for a couple of nights, our 4-year-old basked in their giggle-laden attention. Oh brother, we're in trouble. On the up side, Adam seems to be our resident optimist, choosing to enjoy the moment. Most of them, anyway.

Nora
This was without a doubt Nora's best year, her first one. Except for that unspeakable kitchen accident that left a scar on her forehead and took at least five years off her mommy's life, Nora has hit every milestone with the captivating smile you see here. She's probably about a day or two away from walking independently. She's taking a few steps here and there, but when you can zip across the room as fast as she can on hands and knees, why bother? She says "Dada" and "all done," but what sounds like "mama" actually is "more, more." That's OK, baby. You still have Mommy wrapped around your little finger! Nora loves to laugh, cuddle and chatter adorable nonsense. It's the best nonsense you're ears have ever heard!

So that's our little world at the Johnson homestead. It's been a good year with lots of love in it. We pray the coming year will bring each of you the same!

Life Hurts

It's been more than five years since Aaron and I became parents, and I've been thankful to declare that as rambunctious as Katie and Adam are we've never made a trip to the emergency room. Our streak ended last night. One in five years isn't too bad, but two aspects surprised me: 1) Adam, my daredevil, wasn't our first patient and 2) the injury wasn't a result of kids being kids, but of Mommy being a klutz.

We'd just finished dinner and, as usual for a Tuesday, I was speedily washing dishes in the five minutes before I needed to leave for a group I co-lead at church. Life with my family is wonderful - so much more than I could have imagined - but it's been stressful to say the least, surprisingly more so than working in a newsroom. I've greatly benefited from taking a medication that helps me manage that stress. I've been taking it for a couple of years, and it works well without making me feel like a different person. In fact, the only side effect I've noted is a near-inability to cry. Not a bad side effect since I don't have time for that anymore.

At the sink, my mind went through a short list of things I had to accomplish in those precious few minutes: slather on a layer of BB cream in lieu of full-on makeup and a quick trip to the lil' girl's room before scooping up Nora and my books and heading out the door. Nora, who at 9 months old will scarcely let me out of her sight, was playing at my feet as I rinsed off the last item - my Santoku knife.

My Santoku knife holds the most-favored tool status in my kitchen. Given my cooking obsession, I'd say it's the equivalent of the candy apple red Corvette my dad keeps in his garage and rubs with a diaper, except I use my knife way more often than that car gets driven. In fact, my knife almost never makes it back into its slot in our child-proof knife drawer, and I insist on hand washing it.

So I rinsed its silver blade and was about to place it in the drying rack when it slipped out of my hand, falling straight at my daughter's beautiful upturned face. If I live to be 1,000 years old, I don't think I'll ever be able to forget that seemingly endless moment. My sweet baby's blue eyes fixed on me as that blade turned over and over on its way down, finally coming to rest on her forehead. At first I thought it landed on its broad side but discovered otherwise when I lifted it off her - a gash about an inch and a half in length positioned vertically over her left eye.

Oh my sweet Lord, thank you for protecting my baby's eyes!

I yelled for Aaron, who darted upstairs with Katie and Adam right behind him. Grabbing car keys and shoeless kids (Adam, who had been playing dress-up, was wearing a dinosaur costume from three Halloweens ago.), we were in the car and on our way to Kosair Children's Hospital in 60 seconds flat. In the mean time, I called my co-leader Mary to let her know why I wasn't going to be at our study that night, at which point tears started flowing. And in the back seat of our car, sitting in the floor between Nora and Adam, I just couldn't keep it together.

Every guilty thought the enemy could hit me with rocketed through my cloudy mind as I bawled. I knew Nora would be fine and only required a few stitches, but that knowledge just wouldn't stop the emotional flood. How could I let this happen? I've marred my daughter's beautiful face! And then the worst - I could have killed her. How could I go on living if that had happened?

The baby had stopped crying by then and looked at me in wonder, but my wailing had scared our son. From the driver's seat, Aaron wisely asked Adam to pray for Nora and Mommy, and that sweet little dinosaur complied, holding my hand.

Thank the Lord for children's hospitals, whose staff know to not even ask frantic parents to sign documents when they come through the door. God bless you wise, compassionate people! They took me and Nora back almost immediately, while poor Aaron was left in charge of two very hyper preschoolers in the waiting room.

By then Nora was her calm, happy self, charming hospital staff with smiles and babbles, but I was still pretty shaken. With each doctor and nurse who came into the room, I recounted the ugly story, half expecting the next person to walk in to be from Child Protective Services. A nurse gave Nora medicine to make her just this side of sleeping. Strapped into a papoose, Nora babbled as a doctor sewed seven stitches into her head. Scarring should be minimal, she said, and by the time Nora is full grown, it will likely have migrated northward into her hairline.

Thank you, Great Physician, for news that my girl's beautiful face won't be noticeably damaged!

When I toted Nora in her car seat back out to the lobby, I found Katie and Adam happily trotting around the open room, closely followed by John, a friend of ours who was helping Aaron keep the kids occupied. Once we got home, as I prepared Nora for bed, there was a knock at the nursery door. My best friend poked her head in to see how we were. What a sight for bloodshot eyes! She hugged me, reassured me that I'm a good mother and prayed with me before heading back out. And today I received emails, voice mails and texts from concerned friends who did the same.

The Lord has graciously surrounded me with family and friends who hold me up and encourage me when I'm at my lowest.

Sleep did not come easy last night, but this morning I found new mercy, along with a happy baby and a grateful heart. Life is hard - painful at times - just like Jesus said it would be. But I have the assurance that I'll never have to go through it alone, and yesterday was no exception.

Life as a Party of Five

The bags are unpacked and laundry washed (although who knows when it will be folded and put away), so I suppose you could say we're officially settling back in at home from a week at Myrtle Beach with the Holbrook side of the family.

In the nearly nine months since Nora was born the changes in our lives and household have been significant. First, the house. Oh my, this is a source of physical distress for one as OCD as myself. Yes, the aforementioned laundry is clean and dry, but were it not for the advent of machinery to accomplish said tasks we'd be wearing dirty clothes indefinitely. The house is cluttered with brightly-colored plastic whatnot as far as the eye can see. And, unfortunately, most of it is broken. Dust bunnies roll like tumbleweed across the hardwood floor, which may or may not get its monthly mopping next week. The breakfast dishes are still in the sink. I know that's not a big deal to most of you, but again, I have a visceral reaction to disarray in my home - I literally have trouble functioning in clutter. I finally got around to hemming a pair of pants for my husband just before we left for vacation - a request he had put in some three months earlier. And when I say "hem" I'm not talking about actual needle and thread. I'm talking about the bonding strips you pass over with an iron to essentially glue the fabric together. Whatever. If a lack of parity makes him feel any better, a button to a pair of my own pants has been sitting on our bathroom counter just as long, and I wear the pants regardless. Don't care. Maybe if the bonding strips worked on buttons I'd get that done, too. Hmm. Crazy Glue?

Physically, I must be a completely different lady. I've always been a morning person, not so much in demeanor but certainly in productivity. Even after my second child was born, I would bound out of bed at 6 a.m., and by the time my crew came down the steps to start their days I would have done my Bible study, eaten breakfast, exercised and showered. Maybe even a chore accomplished, thanks to at least a couple of cups of coffee. Nora's arrival ushered in a new day, one that still may begin before the sun rises, but consider it a false start because as soon as Adam is served his toaster waffle you can count on this momma going back to bed. My eyes pop open to the shock of the clock claiming it's already 8:30 a.m., as my husband manages two fighting preschoolers and crying baby who wants her second breakfast, thank you very much. We still enforce a daily room time, not so much because my preschoolers need a nap but because I do. In fact, I cannot remember going through a day without needing to at least be horizontal for an hour. If being perpetually tired isn't enough, get this - I've had a back ache for the last eight months. And I think the beach trip may have been the nail in my lumbar's coffin. My lower back was sore from the physical awkwardness of lifting a 16-pound baby in and out of a playpen, but 10 or 12 hours in the car on the way home elevated soreness to pain. All this to say I'm getting old, folks.

Couple the number of little people in our house with the broke down lady running it, it's no wonder I can't get everything done - and no wonder this is the first action this blog has seen since Christmas.

But that's not to say there isn't a whole lot of wonderful that has come with increasing our family size. In fact, wonderful is the bulk of it. Katie and Adam are learning new things seemingly every day, and Nora is just so cute I can't stand it. Being at the beach with them may mean a working vacation, but it's so worth it to watch them enjoy themselves and experience new things. Incidentally, I got a big chuckle out of Adam when we got home. Katie was recounting all the things she had done at the beach to her babysitter, and when she mentioned playing in a hot tub, Adam grinned, looked up at me and chanted a la Eddie Murphy/James Brown, "Hot tub! Rub-a-dub!" That's right, of all the knowledge Aaron and I could be passing down to our children, what they parrot back is our collective Saturday Night Live memories.



While the rest of the family enjoys what's prepared on the hibachi table, Adam uses his chopsticks to eat peanut butter crackers.

The first time Nora's feet were in sand. Meh. She was on the beach for maybe 20 minutes before falling asleep in Pappy's arms. Still, Momma's happy we documented the occasion.



Aaron thought it would be great fun to treat the kids to Pirate Voyage, a dinner show similar to Medieval Times or Dixie Stampede. My parents, grandmother and uncle came as well, while my aunt stayed behind with Nora. We figured there would be loud noises from firing cannons, so Nora wouldn't do well. Little did we know that it was our eldest child who would revolt. The minute we walked into the building, Katie spied someone in pirate garb, frowned and seemed determined to spend the next 90 minutes in misery. The fire-breathing man, sea lions, mermaids - all left her nonplussed and her roughly $30 meal untouched. Katie didn't see a good deal of the show, being that her head was in my lap. Oh well, 75 percent of the Johnson clan enjoyed it!

We split the trip home into two days, driving as far as my aching back and Aaron's aching ears could stand being in the car with three little kids. We stopped for the night in Caryville, Tenn. and checked into a Hampton Inn overlooking Cove Lake, an unexpected bonus. It really was a beautiful view. By then, of course, our kids were half crazy with energy stored up from the car ride, which made it a little difficult to fully appreciate the orange glow of the sun sinking behind the mountains. But at least we have pictures. Sort of.



Not your best smile, pal.

Katie couldn't get her sillies out.

I'm learning in more real ways than ever that life is messy. We can scramble around trying to make it look like a Norman Rockwell painting all we want, but at the end of the day we're just frustrated and may have missed out on the beauty. I know this in my head, but it's going to be quite a process for me to slip into full whatever mode. I'll get there.