Lady in waiting

I love deadlines.

I really do! If there were no deadlines, I wouldn’t get anything done.  Deadlines also help me set parameters; I feel like I can better utilize my time when I know when that period of time has to end.  So this odd little waiting period is hard for me.  I just want to know what day “buddy” is coming so I can plan accordingly.  But that’s not the way pregnancy works (apparently). 

My official due date is June 19–Friday. However, thus far, there are no indications that he’ll hit this deadline.  Because of this, the doctor scheduled an emergency backup induction date.  If buddy doesn’t come beforehand, he’ll be evicted by the good doctor on June 26.

This doesn’t help me!    All I know is:  he’s coming some time between today and June 26.  This means I have to wake up each day and think, “If I had to stop everything tomorrow, what would be the most important work/life priorities today?”  It forces me to take only one day at a time, enjoy each day for what it brings, and make the most of it; how jacked up is that?

I say that in jest, of course, but I think I’m just antsy.  I’m excited about our first child.  I’m excited to be a Mom. I’m excited for N8 to be a dad and see this little guy who’s been playing in-utero soccer for the past few months.   But at the same time, if I think about it too much, I grow impatient and anxious.

It turns out, it’s just easier for me to assume he’s coming on June 26, and continue to go about my life in blissful ignorance.  If Buddy surprises us early, then I’ll adjust.   Sitting around and waiting is just too hard.

So, of course, I’m making use of the time (and, um, *encouraging* N8 to do the same).   Thanks to N8 and his brother, the nursery is painted, furniture is assembled, and carpets upstairs are steam cleaned.   N8 and I have been organizing, cleaning, putting boxes in storage and generally preparing for Buddy’s arrival.  I think it’s funny that Buddy’s room is the cleanest & most organized in the house.  . . and he won’t even care!

According to what I’ve read, all this is normal; it’s called “nesting.”  Apparently it’s my innate motherly drive to prepare a warm, cozy, safe environment for the coming child.

I gotta say, all this nesting is tiring.   I’m sure I’ll get some rest after the 26th.

Drum roll please

“Aunt Jenn, your belly looks like a drum.”

This is the greeting I receive from my delightful 3-year old niece each time I’ve seen her for the past month! It’s adorable.   (Her comment, not my belly.)

I mostly agree with her, although I think my belly looks more like an alien pod.  Some strange little being has taken over my insides–so much so that the other day, after having some lunch, I heard and felt the food digesting a bit.  You know how this *should* feel, right?  Somewhere in your stomach area, you feel a gurgling as the food gets processed.

Well, I felt the gurgling on my sides!  Where my waist used to be!  I was alone at the time but couldn’t help but laugh out loud.  My intestines are on my sides!!  How freakish is that?

The event reminded me that I am truly in the final stretch of pregnancy; T-minus 13-ish days until Buddy makes his debut!

In the mean time, I feel pretty good. I’m tired, large, and I grunt each time I get up, sit down, or try to put on shoes.  I’m having a few contractions each day, but nothing too painful or consistent; the docs say it looks like I’ll be right on time.

So, since all signs are healthy, and I still presumably have a few weeks of freedom left, I’ve been doing a lot of my favorite things that might be put on hold for a while after Buddy comes:  meeting up with friends, taking naps, and. . .of course. . . playing drums.

Yep! Believe it or not, I finally had the opportunity to play drums at church again!  A few months ago I decided it was time to take a hop of faith and introduce myself to the music leader (Dave) at church.  Since then, I met up with him for an informal jam session, after which I was scheduled to play last Sunday, May 31.

I nervous beyond belief!  Not only had I never played w/ anyone in the band, but I had also never played in front of a church of 700-ish people!  The band didn’t rehearse prior to Sunday; Dave simply sent me the song list, a few mp3s, and rhythm sheets.

The people in the band are amazing; a number of them play at different churches or are paid professionals.  So for this team, not rehearsing before Sunday isn’t a big deal.  They get their music, look it over, play through the song once, and they’re good to go!  For me, I’m used to running through the song–in its entirety–at least 5-6 times before it’s “show time.”

I could go on about how different this experience was than my 6 years of playing at Ambassador, but in short, the most important part was exactly the same:  I had a blast.   It was so much fun to play and be an active part of leading the congregation into worship.  I can’t wait to play again!

One funny, and rather unexpected moment arose when the Associate Bilingual Pastor got up to do announcements after the first 2 songs were complete.  He said, “Wow, the band sounds amazing today.”  He gave a shout-out to the 5 female vocalists and mentioned how beautiful their voices were, then he said, “And how about our mom-to-be on drums?”  The congregation cheered!   I blushed like nobody’s business.

Nate couldn’t be there because he was at work that day, but I was glad my mom was there; it was nice to share that morning with her.  (Thanks for coming, Mom!)

Although playing drums will be on hold again for a little while, I look forward to getting on the regular rotation some time this fall. . . you know, after Buddy comes. . . and my belly no longer looks like a drum.

Queen for 3 more weeks

Over the past month or so, I’ve noticed something interesting:  Coloradans have become nicer.  Drivers let people cross the street without growling.  People open doors for others.  Some shoppers have let others cut in line ahead of them!

Is it because it’s Spring?  The snow has melted, the sun has come out, and people are more chipper?  I dunno. Maybe it’s just me.

Actually, that’s exactly what I think it is.  I think it’s me.  It’s the pregnancy factor!

I’ve noticed lately that visibly pregnant women get a little extra special treatment.  People give up seats for me and say “excuse me” even if *I* run into *them.*  I even had the most relaxing time as a bridesmaid in early May; most of the bridal party were doctors, and they wouldn’t let me do a thing.  According to them, my only job was to “eat, relax, and not go into pre-term labor.”  Can’t beat that!

There’s one drawback, however. When I see women pushing a stroller or toting a few kids around, they don’t get the red-carpet treatment.  Once the child is actually *outside* of a woman’s body, the magic disappears.  This observation was confirmed last weekend when I met a couple at Starbucks.

I was picking up a few drinks for my family at a Denver Sbux when a lady congratulated me out of the blue.  She asked how far along I was, do we have names picked out, and all that.  We chatted for about 5 minutes, and it was a fun conversation.  Then, at the very end, the husband said, “Just be aware.  People treat you really well now; shoot, you could walk across I-25 and all the cars will stop for you, smile, and wave.  But the moment that child is in a stroller or a baby carrier, the kindness is gone.  People will go back to being irritated.”

He said it with an air of humor, but it did confirm what I’ve been observing lately.

So now I’m wondering:  How can I milk this treatment over the next 3 weeks?  I’m at a loss.  I feel like I’ve been given a free pass to something, but the ink on the ticket is smudged and I can’t read what it’s for. If you have any ideas, I’m all ears!

Well, worst-case, I’ll just keep enjoying the little things.   It’s just too bad that it only works for pregnant women; I wish Julie & Alan could carry around their adoption application and get the same treatment!

Thoughts on a Friday afternoon at Starbucks

Six weeks from today, baby. Literally.

The closer I get to the delivery date, the more I find myself worrying and wondering. Fortunately, I do more of the latter than the former, but I’d say it’s still a 60/40 split.

When I see little boys–and all the energy they have bottled up in them–I wonder what kind of personality Buddy’s going to have.

When I see the barista at Sbux with big African-like ear-rings (where you can see through his ear lobes), I wonder what Buddy’s style will be like.

When I see men in different professions: teenage boys bagging groceries and playing sports; men in their 20s driving fire trucks and playing sports;  men in their 30s as doctors and pastors (and yes, playing sports ) . . . I wonder what Buddy’s gifting will be like. What will be his hobbies? What will he enjoy doing? Will he want to be a firefighter like his dad?  Or an IT project manager like his mom?  (Clearly, we all know the cooler choice between the two! haha)

How can N8 and I cultivate an environment where he learns to love God, love other people, and live a life where he does both through whatever he chooses to do?

How can we raise him to love his family, support his friends, be polite to others, respect his elders, and truly be a blessing and gift to other people (including, perhaps, his future wife)–all the meanwhile cultivating his talents and interests, not squelching his personality?

For the first time since I found out I was pregnant, I’ve been thinking about issues beyond “natural vs. epidural?”   “Will I be able to take the pain?”  and “How much weight will I gain?”    (All legitimate questions, of course!)

I see a gentleman in his 30s who appears to have a mental handicap; will Buddy?  Or will he have any learning disabilities?

I can’t look at males of any age without wondering how Buddy will grow up.

Michael, a 4-year old, is dancing around my chair, and he just introduced himself to me.  He has a chocolate covered mouth and is as happy as a clam dancing and chatting with people while his mom has coffee with a friend.  His older sister is texting and trying to avoid too much interaction with her (clearly) *embarrassing* little brother.

I guess it just reminds me that each person is so unique, and –although it’s okay to wonder (and even worry a little bit) — at the end of the day, God is creating this little guy.  God’s the one who made this whole crazy human experience possible, and he knows exactly how Buddy will be.  He also knows how to give N8 and me wisdom for every step along the way.

Psalm 139: 13-18

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand. When I awake, I am still with you.

My little probie

After 5 months of long hours, grueling physical labor, and intense study, N8 graduated last Thursday from the Denver Fire Academy!  The day was beautiful, and a number of family members were able to make it out to celebrate.  So N8 now makes the transition from recruit to Probie (on probation).  For the next 9 months, he’ll rotate through 4 different stations and continue to work his butt off (but at least he’ll do it in shifts instead of 5 am – 4pm daily).  After that, he’ll test and become an official Firefighter, at which time he’ll get assigned to a permanent station.

Then he gets to become  a Rookie.  He’ll still be the one in the station doing the dishes, cleaning the bathrooms, and organizing the medical cabinets, but it’ll still be a step up from a Probie.   It’s so funny how this all works.

Anyway, the last 4 days have been so nice having him around.  Although he had been physically present on the weekends during the Academy, he was so tired that it made him a lot more mellow.  Over the past few days, it seems like he’s slowly waking up.   It was nice to hang out with my joking, funny, *awake* husband again.

Here are a few snapshots, but you can check out more on my flickr site.

N8 and me on graduation day

N8, me, our parents, and "buddy" (see him pushing his way into the picture?)

N8 and his graduation gift: a 100-lb training weight vest (at his request!)

Just a few updates for you:

The Firefighter union passed the proposal allowing for concessions over the next couple of years (and thus allowing N8 and 31 other firefighters to keep their jobs)!  Thank you Denver FD Union!!   It passed by something like 94% which really speaks to the brotherhood that firefighters seem to have.  They not only train to protect strangers, but they look out for each other as well.

This week I’m 29 weeks pregnant, and I’ve begun going to the doctor every 2 weeks now.  The newest “pain” of pregnancy?  Heartburn!  Ohmygoodness! I had read about this before but I had no idea how wretched it could be.  I’ve had to change my whole approach to eating:  no tomatoe-based sauces; eat *very* small portions; don’t eat less than 3 hours before going to bed; fall asleep in N8’s recliner before going to bed.  (All that and a Costco-size container of Tums seem to do the trick.)

Last, but certainly not least. . . I finally ordered the bridesmaid dress.  (Yes, I know you were all worried about that one.)  I ordered this one from Special Occasion Maternity, and it’s beautiful.    I still feel like a tub, but it’s ok;  the big day is not about me!  My friend’s wedding is only 3 1/2 weeks away, and I’m sure it’ll be a fun and beautiful event.

That’s all the news that’s fit to print for now.  Time to get to work.  Oh look. . .I’m here!

5 guys . . .Life is good

Yay!  After long last, Five Guys Burgers & Fries finally opened in my area.  Here are a few snapshots from this momentous occasion.

The line was to the door. . . and it got even longer by the time we took off

Nate & me enjoying our burgers (and note the pile of fries! Careful if you order a large. . .it can definitely be shared b/w 4 people)

Chris diving into her burger. It was nice to be with a Virginian for our 5 Guys opening!

Life updates

I’m not as busy as I was this time last year, but–oddly–there seems to be lot more going on.

N8’s dad started his chemo again yesterday, so of course we’re praying for his health and strength through these harsher rounds in preparation for a bone marrow transplant.

The Denver Firefighters Union is voting this week on budget concessions.  If the proposal passes, everyone gets to keep their jobs; if not. . . well, short version is, N8’s firefighting career will once again be on hold.  One guy in N8’s academy jokingly suggested that anyone in the Academy who has a pregnant wife and/or kids bring them along to the vote as well.    Nah, we’re staying pretty positive; it seems like a very fair and reasonable proposal, but we’re praying no less.

Construction has begun on our basement; we’d like to have it finished by the end of May so that we’ll have a guest room once we turn the current one into a nursery.  The contractor is a good guy, and we trust him, but I just didn’t realize what the implications would be of trying to work from home while people are busting concrete downstairs.  I’ve had to work at Starbucks a few times just to get away from the noise!  Two days ago, the dust from the construction was actually setting off the smoke detectors! haha.  Makes for interesting conference calls.

N8’s brother, M, is living with us for a while as well.  He graduated with his MBA last summer and has been a full-time job-hunter ever since.  I have to admit, I haven’t been looking for a job since I moved to DC in the Fall of 1994.  Back then, I had enough temp jobs to hold me over, and it only took 7 weeks to find the position I ended up holding for the next 6 years.  That was a very different time.  My respect and compassion is growing for people who spend 40 hours a week *looking* for a job; they work insanely hard for no pay.   So, I pray a lot for M and his search.   As a side note, living with two boys has its own humorous moments, but that can be another blog.

Pregnancy, of course, keeps me on my toes.  Well, not my toes so much anymore; I lose my balance.   I’m in Week 27 and facing the home stretch.  I’m starting to feel a bit less like a “cute pregnant lady” and more like a big awkward one.  Last weekend, my family (including my grandparents, who are in town for a couple weeks) went to Indulge for dinner.  It’s a very cute, very yummy French restaurant, but I had never noticed how close the tables were before.  I noticed it most when I got up five times to take my 3-year-old niece to the bathroom.   Each time I’d get up, wind our way through the tables, and come back, I’d find myself trying to maneuver my belly around people, tables & chairs.  Thankfully I didn’t hit anyone in the head with my belly, but I came awfully close!

On a side note, C (my sister’s 3-year old) is growing like a weed and chatting up a storm!  She’s fully potty trained now, and she’s a crack-up.  During one of the times we were heading to the restroom, we ran into the owner–a lovely, gracious lady–who smiled at C and asked, “Oh, bonjour!  Are you coming to see me?”

C looked at her with her big blue eyes, smiled, and said: “No, I’m going to poop on the potty,” then continued to walk right past her to the bathroom.  She’s a riot.

Lastly, a friend of mine from Virginia is in town visiting for a week!  She lived in Denver for a few years, so she has a ton of friends out here; she has a more hoppin’ social life here than I do!  It’s really wonderful to see her, though.  I appreciate the friendships that sustain through long distances (or even long draughts of conversation).  The moment she walked through our door, we picked up right where we left off; I love that!

Overall, life is good; I’m just learning to take one day at a time, pray about things that I can’t control, and take action when I can to help others.  I’m trying to recall and live by the words that Jesus said a couple thousand years ago:

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

“Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

How Hamels handle hardship

While N8 and I were engaged, one of the many nuggets of marriage insight I was given  was:  Be aware — the things that you currently love about the person will later drive you nuts.  (Ahh, so warm and fuzzy. )

The funny thing is, with N8, I’ve had the opposite experience. The very thing that was initially *unattractive* to me–one of the main reasons I wasn’t interested in dating him–is now one of my favorite things about him:  his humor.

Before I saw the light, I likened N8 to a Christian frat-boy: just a big goofball who was funny–yes–but lacking in substance. All I ever heard were jokes–never any keen insight on God and life.

For those who know N8, they just shake their heads when they hear me say that because it’s so off-base!  He might not offer up advice, thoughts, and insights, but if you take the time to ask, you’ll be amazed at the depth of this guy’s heart and mind.

All that being said, I’m still thrown off by his responses at times–expecting deep profound emotion and receiving a joke.  Like last Friday, for instance.

Last week, we found out that N8’s dad’s Lymphoma has returned.  Apparently, it never fully went away. The next step is:  a couple more rounds of chemo, then a bone marrow transplant. The transplant process will likely include 4-6 weeks in isolation (or, as we call it, “in solitary”) because he will, literally, have no immune system for a while.

When we found out on Friday, I had one reaction, and N8 had another.

I went up to my bed, cried a bit, prayed a lot, and just let myself be sad.  After a while, I thought, “Ok, Jenn, time to get your mind off yourself.  Let’s get dinner started and, hey, maybe support your husband a bit.”

So I went downstairs, asked N8 how he was doing.  “Ok,” he said.  “Since my dad might be confined for a while, I said I’d go to Petsmart and get the biggest gerbil ball I could find. Maybe then he can run around outside.”

I simultaneously burst into laughter and tears!  How does he do that? How does he joke in a situation like this–in a way where I know he’s neither hiding his emotions nor denying the situation.  He’s just being N8.

This is partly due to his job; you have to have a sense of humor as a firefighter.  You have to know what you can control and what you can’t–what to act on and what to wait on.  You can’t worry about events that haven’t happened or stress about what has already passed; you have to simply live in the present and be prepared to react appropriately at just the right time.

From what I’ve observed, this is how the Hamels handle most things; they seem to take one day at at time, trust that God loves us and will help us through any situation, and–in the mean time–live, laugh, and love.

N8 and I are a good balance for each other in that way.  Neither of us will probably change our core reactions over the years; it’s how we’re wired. But I do believe we learn from each other, and our perspectives are broadened.

In the years I’ve known N8, I’ve only seen him cry twice (although once was as a result of laughing so hard at the end of “Little Miss Sunshine”); I know that, when there are times to be sad, he shows it.  But right now is not one of those times.  Today is today–not a hypothetical worst-case scenario in the coming years. Today’s a day to live, laugh, and love.

I suppose it’s fitting that N8’s favorite book of the Bible is Ecclesiastes.  As Solomon wrote:

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace. (Ecc 3:1-8)

Go eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do. (Ecc 9:7)

Dress quest

At 5′ 10″, I’m not unaccustomed to standing out.

I’ve been “the tall white chick” at a predominantly multi-ethnic church.  I’ve been the  “single female” on a team of married men at work.  I’ve even been one of 2 single women on the dance floor at a wedding–begrudgingly awaiting the bouquet toss.  (I was a bridesmaid; it was my duty.)

At weddings, specifically, I’ve often been the tallest bridesmaid, and it’s not uncommon for me to tower over the poor groomsman who has to escort me down the aisle.  At Betty & Kevin’s wedding, I was maid of honor, and the photographer kept asking me to “squat down a little bit” so I wouldn’t make Betty and other brides maids look short.

Come May 1, I’ll be standing even further out at a wedding:  I’ll be a bridesmaid and nearing my 8th month of pregnancy!  Is there a term for this?  I’m thinking: “bridal boat” or “bridal tank” might be appropriate!

Actually, I’m very excited; my friend Ginny is marrying a great guy right here in Colorado.  I’m honored to be a part of her wedding. She has been a friend for more than 8 years, and she stood by me at my wedding as well.  All exciting stuff, but here’s the dilemma:  I need to buy a dress.

How do you buy a formal dress for a size you haven’t yet achieved? I have to buy for the future with no past pregnancy experience, so I have no idea how big I’m going to be!  Will I look like a balloon?  Do I want to risk bare arms? Will I have cankles?

The normal thing to do, of course, is:  buy for the size you are now, work out like mad to lose 5-10 lbs, then get the dress taken in a week before the event.   That won’t work this time.

My mission (which I’ve chosen to accept) is to find a full-length, chocolate brown dress.  That’s it! Ginny gives me free reign from there on out:  straps, no straps, sleeves, no sleeves, high-waist, low-waist, (or in my case: “what waist?”).  It’s my call. But I continually hit walls.  You’d think this should be relatively easy, right?

Not a chance.  Just try googling around for formal maternity dresses.  You get ridiculously thin models with big bellies wearing these uber-cute, short, strapless dresses.  I’ve found some more reasonable long dresses in black, but not brown.  Brown dresses that are short, not long.  And the few long brown dresses I’ve found are overly ornate!  (I mean really, I’m already going to be huge; do we need to add bows, flowers, and extra layers?)

I think I’ve finally narrowed it down to two possibilities:  this one at David’s Bridal, and that one on Special Occasion Maternity.  I’ve recruited my sister to come with me next week while I try some on; I need an objective eye.

Hopefully this will all get squared away in the next couple of weeks, and I’ll be good to go.  If not. . .well. . .Hefty bags come in brown, right?

A hop of faith

At 6 months pregnant, I really shouldn’t jump. That’s what the books say.

They also say I shouldn’t start anything new; I have enough new and big changes coming my way.

Over the last several months, however, I’ve felt aimless.  There are potentially dozens of reasons for this, but one of the big ones, I’ve come to realize, is that I miss ministry.  I miss being a part of a church community that wants to love people, help people, and bring the hope of Christ to those who are hurting.

Before moving to Colorado, I was intimately involved at Ambassador Bible Church.  I was a part of the church staff, played drums in the band, started and led the women’s ministry for 8 years, helped start the single’s ministry.  .  . the list goes on.  Ministry became an integral part of my identity, how I thought, and how I functioned. Although I have enjoyed the “break” since last summer (it is nice to not be at church every Sunday morning at 8:30 to set up the drums), I’ve come to realize how  James 2:14-26 resonates in my life.

A portion of that passage reads: “ You see that faith was active along with [Abraham's] works, and faith was completed by his works . . . You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone. . . . For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so also faith apart from works is dead.”

The passage does *not* say that we have to work our way to earn God’s favor, but rather that good deeds and works should be an overflow of our faith. We have gifts and talents for a reason; they are created to bless other people and show them the hope that Christ brings. If we are not putting our faith into action, what good is the faith at all?

Right now, I feel like my faith isn’t doing much. It is chillin’ in its recliner, watching sit-coms, and getting a little pot-belly.  I don’t want to go back to “uber-stressed-out-ministry Jenn,” but I do want to to find a niche where I can serve and get some muscle back on this little faith of mine.

All that brings my to my jump.

Nate and I have been attending Colorado Community Church since we moved here, and the more I get to know it, the more I feel like we will make it our home.  It’s a larger church than I’m used to, and it has taken a while to meet people, but the heart of the church and the leadership is clear, and I’m on board.

I have been reticent to jump into anything new because, well, I do have a few changes coming soon.  But I realized last week–after jamming for all of 3 minutes at Guitar Center–that I sorely miss playing drums.  Singing worshipful songs at church is great, but it’s so much more amazing when I can express that worship through hitting things.   Nah, seriously, playing drums has become a form of worship, and I miss being a part of a talented like-hearted band that plays during services.

So yesterday, I took my jump.  I went up to the band leader (an extremely talented man whose voice sounds a lot like James Taylor), introduced myself, and asked if I could come hang out at a practice some time.

I’m going next week. (eek!)

Why does this feel like such a huge jump?  I’ve clearly taken bigger leaps of faith in my life.  Playing drums should be easy right?

Nope. I think that every time there’s something new God wants  me to try, there’s at least a bit of nervousness, apprehension, and a good dose of insecurity.   If those weren’t there, then I wouldn’t need to rely on God at all; I wouldn’t pray, and I wouldn’t see him work through those insecurities.  It wouldn’t require faith.

So, I’m calling this the “hop of faith,” for a couple reasons:

1) It’s a relatively small jump compared to past leaps.

2) My faith’s little leg muscles need to work up to “jumping” again.

3) I shouldn’t jump. I’m pregnant.