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The Best Gift

11/1/2019

6 Comments

 
PictureTara
​Lila made her way into this world on July 20th, 2019.  It was all a blur, and movie-like almost, as I stood on the sidewalk outside of Longhorn's Steakhouse.  My belly was full (in more ways than one), and I was on the phone with my dad when my water broke right then and there for all of the patiently waiting customers to see.  I stared at the puddle in surprise and giggled as Phillip yelled at me to get in the car. (I guess he didn't think it was funny.)

I quickly realized how funny it wasn't as the contractions became stronger.  I had been reading books and watching documentaries all to prepare me for this moment, and somehow none of it mattered.  Lila was on her way, and that was all I could think about!

She arrived at 10:58, a little over two hours after my water broke.  What a whirlwind!  

She was tiny, dark and beautiful.  I couldn't believe I was her mom.  As I held her close and stared at her, all I could think about was how miraculous of an experience this all was.

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In the beginning, it was as if I had trouble believing that there was really a baby growing inside of me.  However, from the very moment I felt her move, that all changed.  All of the sudden I was overly aware that she was there, that she was a part of me.  As she grew, so did my attachment of her.  I started dreaming of who she'd be and what she'd look like.  It also became so evident to me that she did not belong to me, she belonged to God.
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​God gave us this gift of Lila, and she was in His hands.  I don't mean to sound morbid, but I had to train my thoughts to acknowledge that truth.  It did, in a way, stunt the growth of my attachment to her.  But looking back, it was a gift.  It was a gift to be able to fully recognize that she belonged to HIM. That HE was allowing me to be her mom--not her creator.  From time to time fear would rise up in me--what if something happened to her?  What if I lost her?  What if I lost her during delivery?  But the fear didn't stop there.  What if she gets sick after she is born?  What if she gets in an accident and dies suddenly as a child?  What if?

Then an overwhelming peace came.  She belongs to God.  He is in control.  He will take care of her.  And if He decides to call her home, she will come, whether I am ready or not.  Acknowledging that truth early on allowed me to fully love her without overwhelming fear. (*I am human, so not completely without fear.)  To care for her and raise her with the attitude that she belongs to God.  Now, I know she has only been here for 3 months, and the reality is that as time passes and she grows, it will be challenging to remain in this mindset.  However, by choosing to raise her in this way, I will take it day by day.  Daily I will choose to lift her up to the Lord.  Daily I will love her like the miraculous gift she is.
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​With one placement ending during the 7th month of my pregnancy, Phillip and I decided to take a break from foster care until after Lila was born.  We could take up to a six month break before having to redo our training, so that was the plan.  Now, we find ourselves at the end of our break, preparing our hearts to open our home again.  It is a bittersweet feeling, but it doesn't come without fear.  

Like I said, early on in my pregnancy, I was able to train my thoughts and come to grips with the truth that Lila belonged to God.  Although Phillip knows this in his mind, it was still sinking into his heart.  Phillip became anxious about foster care and its role in our family's life.  He was fearful of what could happen to her once we welcomed other children into our home--children who come from a broken past and who have experienced violence and abuse.  Through many prayers and discussions, we finally agreed that foster care is the path that our family is called to.  That meeting these broken children where they are and loving them like Jesus does is the life we want to live.  
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As I thought about the fear of what could happen to Lila as we open up our home more and more, I was reminded of Abraham. 
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" He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you.”  "  Genesis 22:2

Take your son, your only son, whom you love...and offer him there as a burnt offering. (If you have never read this story, or it's been a while since you have, read it now! )
Wow.  If this story didn't get to me before, it certainly does now that I am a parent.  Abraham, being the faithful servant he was, obeyed.  He didn't question God.  He didn't bargain with God.  He was obedient.  Was he so full of faith that he knew the Lord would provide a lamb?  Or was he acknowledging the truth that Isaac belonged to God?  Or both?
I sat, with tear-filled eyes, and thought to myself--I love Lila, but God loves her more.  
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I want to raise my family in a way that honors The Lord.  I want my time on this earth to be about other people--sharing the love of Christ.  I want Lila to understand just what Jesus intended our lives to be--full of love and sacrifice.  

Lila Monroe Smith is a pure JOY.  She is the sweetest-natured baby and loves everyone she meets.  She looks just like her daddy, but might have her mama's eyes.  She is the best snuggler and loves to chat.  She loves being outside and reading books.  Lila is the best gift--and we are so excited to be her mom and dad.
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Thank you to Dixie Cook Sherrod for the beautiful photos!
6 Comments

Teach a Kid to Fish

9/20/2019

1 Comment

 
PictureTara
My Papa was one heck of a man.  Honest, trustworthy, dedicated, patient, kind, hardworking, simple, loving...I could go on and on.  One of his great loves was fishing.  He loved it so much, that he made sure his kids and grandkids had the opportunity to learn and love it too.  I remember digging up worms in his worm bed, learning to bait a hook with stuck and bloody fingers, starting off with a cane pole and graduating to a rod and reel, sitting on an upside-down 5 gallon bucket, and getting caught in the trees more times than I'd like to admit. ​ He cultivated a love for the outdoors in me at a young age, and I still enjoy fishing today.

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​My Nana's parents, who we called Pap and Granny Honey, also loved to fish.  They decided to make use of a low spot behind their house and have a small pond dug.  This turned out to be perfect for us kids, since Nana and Papa lived right next door!  I remember thinking how magical and mysterious this small wooded pond was--never knowing what I'd pull out of that dark water.
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​While fishing was when I discovered just how patient my Papa was.  I actually remember thinking one time, "Why in the world does he let us come fishing with him? He spends all of his time getting us untangled, and he doesn't even get a chance to do what he loves so much."  Maybe I misunderstood what it was that he loved so much.

​It seems like just yesterday that I stood hot and sweaty, with spoon in hand, as he towered over me.  Standing at that old enamel sink, scraping the scales back against their natural growth and watching them fly through the air (often times landing on my arms and face).  The smell of fish lingering on my hands for what seemed like days along with the strand of mosquito bites down my legs that I couldn't stop scratching.  (Which then made my legs smell like fish too.)
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From an early age, I remember loving the taste of fried fish.  Our family usually gathered over a "fish fry" to celebrate birthdays, holidays and other special occasions.  With such a large family to feed, this was one cost-effective way to please the crowd.  Papa would fish for weekends, freezing his bounty, saving up for the big day.  He and Nana would stand over the bubbling grease, waiting for the hushpuppies to float.  Served alongside grits, homemade french fries, and slaw, it was a feast.  He would stand in line with us kids, telling us what each piece was and what he thought we might like best.  Then my mom or Nana would help us diligently pick it off of the bones to ensure we didn't accidentally swallow one and ruin the night.  I'd sit barefoot at the table with my legs crisscrossed feeling like I was in heaven.
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​There was a period of time that I spent every Friday night with my grandparents.  They, along with about 10 other couples, would gather at the cabin to hold a weekly fish fry.  The men would spend their week catching as many fish as they could just so they would have an excuse to get together for supper.  The women would bring in their specialties, whether it be a side or dessert, as their contribution.  I remember sitting at a table, surrounded by "old women" talking about "old men", while the men gathered in the kitchen to chit chat and heat the grease.  I didn't care that I was the only kid there--I got to eat my favorite meal and go home with my favorite people.       

When my Papa got sick, I reflected on what it was about him that I admire and would miss so much.  I decided that if I could marry someone that was half of the man he was, I would be happy.  Little did I know that Phillip would come calling, and I would find him, too, honest, trustworthy, dedicated, patient, kind, hardworking, simple, and loving.  The funny thing is, Phillip is also a carpenter (like my Papa), and he too loves to fish.  
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Phillip's family has a deep love for fishing as well, and "fish frys" are a common occurrence around their house.  Needless to say, I fit right in.  ​
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​Fried catfish and bream may seem like a poor man's dinner to some, but let me tell you, it's a feast fit for a king.  I love the feeling of nostalgia and flood of memories that hot, greasy fish and homemade french fries bring.  You know the old saying, "Give a man a fish, feed him for a day.  Teach a man to fish, feed him for a lifetime."?  It is easy to believe that if I had only eaten a plate of fish at family get-togethers, rather than investing in the experience of fishing as a child, I wouldn't feel the way I do today.  Good thing my Papa taught us to fish, because it did more than feed us for a lifetime.  
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​If fried fish is new to you, but you'd like to give it a try, take home the Deep South cookbook!  It showcases traditional Southern meals, like fried catfish with hush puppies and tartar sauce.  Yum!

And in case you didn't know, lemon pie is a must when fish is on the menu.  If you don't have a recipe of your own that you love, try out our Southern Pies cookbook!
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Helen

9/6/2019

1 Comment

 
PictureRoxie
​Last week, we lost my sweet, 91-year-old grandmother. Many of you have heard me mention my grandmother as she and my grandfather had an enormous impact on my life. 

I am so blessed to have had a childhood full of so many wonderful memories, especially of time spent with my Grandparents.  Though we lived 12 hours away from them, Wayne and Helen Bloomingburg had an unbelievable way of being involved in our lives and making sure we (both me and my younger brother Troy) knew how much we were loved.  

Grandma and Grandpa were hard-working folks that always put God and family first, and they raised their children to do the same. It is hard to talk about my grandmother without also talking about my grandfather.  They were the most faithful and selfless people I have ever known.  Even though we lived so far away, there was never a doubt that grandma and grandpa were in our corner.

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The summer before my senior year in high school, I decided to live with my grandparents and get a summer job.  My grandmother landed me a great job with a friend who was a real estate attorney.  I spent five summers with my grandparents, working in the attorney’s office and exploring the city.  (As much as I was allowed to - Grandpa liked to keep me close!) Oh, how I have cherished the time that I was able to spend with them in the summers.  Grandma would tell marvelous stories of growing up in Selma, Alabama, what it was like to lose her mother at a young age, and how much she loved her “daddy”.  I didn’t fully appreciate these experiences at the time, but I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for the summers that I spent with my grandparents.
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After her move to Florida, I was so happy to have her close and to be able to spend more time with her. She loved telling everyone in her assisted living village that I was her granddaughter, and she was so proud to have me every time I came.  I never got tired of her calling me “sweetie” or telling me what a “doll” I was.  Even after her stroke she would love to visit and talk about her childhood and memories of her youth.  She never stopped being concerned about me, never stopped being my comforter, and never stopped being my grandma.  When the words wouldn’t come, her pretty blue eyes and sweet smile still told me all I needed to know. 
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​And now, as I have lost my last grandparent, it is such a bittersweet feeling of growing older.  In a way, I feel like not only have I lost Grandma, but I feel like I have lost Grandpa all over again. I know that Grandma is so much happier now, to be with Jesus and Grandpa and her “mama” and “daddy”.  I count myself so lucky to have been so loved by those two special people.  I have so many friends that didn’t have that same experience.  They don’t have parents and grandparents that will drop anything to do anything for their family.  Just last week Grandma's care giver in the nursing home told me she had never known a family like ours, so full of love for each other and so many of us concerned about grandma. I told her that it was all because of “her” as I pointed to my grandmother with tears in my eyes. My family is truly lucky to have been led and loved by Helen and Wayne Bloomingburg, and I am forever grateful for their presence in my life and the legacy they have left behind in their family.

In honor and in memory of my Grandmother, I am reposting two blog posts I wrote about my grandparents in years past. When cleaning out my grandmothers' apartment, we found that she had a folder for each grandchild in her filing cabinet, each one filled with mementos and cards from over the years. My folder, amongst other things, held a copy of each blog post that I had sent her in the mail. On the outside of the papers she had written, “keep forever”. I am so glad that I took the time to share with her how I felt about her while she was living. I already miss her so much it hurts, but am rejoicing that she is at peace and with her Heavenly Father. 
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My Grandparents​

​I am so blessed to have had a childhood full of so many wonderful memories, especially of time spent with my Grandparents.  Though we lived 12 hours away from them, Wayne and Helen Bloomingburg had an unbelievable way of being involved in our lives and making sure we (both me and my younger brother Troy) knew how much we were loved.  We were able to make the trip to Arlington, Virginia every summer and every other Christmas to pay them a visit.
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My Grandparent's House

​I am flooded today with memories of my grandparents’ house.  As a kid it was a magical place that we were only lucky enough to visit on summer vacations and every other Christmas.  It was not a huge house, a modest Sears and Roebuck home built in 1938, just on the outskirts of Washington D.C.  My grandfather and his family moved in to the house when he was 14.  In turn, my grandfather later bought the house from his father, and my mother moved into the house when she was 14.  The house was a happy home to the same family for its entire life.  It saw many a Thanksgiving Dinner, Christmas Morning and visiting relative.  Some of the happiest moments of my childhood were spent there.
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Perry Jacob Paulk

5/17/2019

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PictureJorjanne
Last year, I shared with you all my worries about being pregnant again so long after my first two boys and at such “advanced maternal age” in my blog, Pregnancy Worries. I’m happy to finally announce that Perry Jacob Paulk made his appearance on June 12, 2018! I know it’s a bit late to make it an announcement, but we’ve had our hands full ever since he arrived! 

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I had been having contractions off and on since April, so my midwife really started encouraging me to back off at work. With my first two pregnancies, I actually went into labor prematurely, which meant my doctor’s office was keeping a close watch on me. By the end of May, my contractions were getting stronger and more regular. When I made it to June (which was my goal!) my Fourth and Cherry family allowed me to stay home on unofficial bedrest, until Perry was born. Nobody wanted me to go into labor in the kitchen making sandwiches and salads!
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Let me just tell you, there is a big difference in having a baby when you're almost 40 compared to having them in your twenties! My delivery went as smoothly as possible, with lots of personal attention at our small local hospital. My nurse was quite in tune to me and noticed Perry’s heart rate dropping during my contractions. She notified my doctor, who quickly delivered Perry and discovered that he had his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. It’s a common occurrence, but scary when it’s your baby! I’m so grateful for experienced medical professionals like those who took care of me and my baby!
We came home the next day, excited to get to know this little bundle! I have to say, adding a newborn’s schedule to our already busy and set routine was more difficult than I thought it would be. Fortunately, my Mama spent the better part of the next couple of weeks helping us all get acclimated to our new life. I’m so grateful for her, and honestly don’t know what I’d do without her! I’m also thankful it was summer break for our older boys, which meant we didn’t have to immediately start getting up early to get ready for school every day.
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I stayed home with Perry, Caleb, and Seth throughout the summer, returning to work when the big boys went back to school. When Seth and Caleb were little, I was a stay-at-home mom, and even though I’m grateful to have had all that time with my boys, I didn’t feel like God was calling me to do the same this time. My Mama is retired now, so she keeps him three days a week for me to work at The Shoppes, and Perry just goes to the office at the farm with me on Thursdays when I work there. Again, I don’t know what I’d do without my Mama!
Perry is 11 months old now, crawling, pulling up on everything, and getting into every cabinet and drawer that doesn’t have a lock on it! He’s learning when he's not supposed to do or have something, so when he does, he just looks up and grins! I think my age and experience has helped me to be more patient, and I’m hoping that will continue as he grows. Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely moments (maybe even days?) that I’m not sure I can handle another baby! That’s when I’m so, so grateful for my family and friends to be my support network. And, then he shoots me one of those adorable smiles that just melts my heart and makes me think that maybe I can.
The sweetest thing has been seeing my older boys learn to love and take care of their little brother. Watching them, I know that one day, some girl is going to look at Seth and another at Caleb, and think to herself, “He’s going to be an incredible Daddy one day!” because that’s what I think about each of them now, just like I did with their Daddy.
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Perry has been such a blessing that none of us expected or even knew we needed! When I was pregnant and even after he was born, Chris and I would look at each other every so often and say, “We’re too old for this!” Lately, though, we just look at him and look at each other and say, “Isn’t he precious?” or “Look at that sweet baby!” I have always tried to enjoy each phase of my older boys’ lives, but there’s something about having a baby at my age that just makes each moment sweeter, knowing how fast time flies. Perry is a constant reminder that God’s plan is always better than my own.
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We Are The Village

4/26/2019

2 Comments

 
PictureTara
"It takes a village to raise a child."  
This statement is an old African proverb thats relevancy rings even more true today.  In a world where marriages are broken, families are ravished by poverty and addiction, and the lives of children are not cherished; it truly takes a village.  

​With the recent uproar over the war on abortion, I find my heart broken.  Broken for the babies who will never take a breath, broken for the young mothers contemplating abortion. 

As these thoughts swirl through my mind, I can't help but wonder how some of these young moms must feel...scared, embarrassed, unfit, unqualified, inexperienced, ill-equipped, lonely, unprepared, uneducated...the list goes on.  
To those mothers--where is your village?  Do you even have one?  You most certainly need one to take on the responsibility of raising a child today.   I ran across a quote that perfectly expressed my heart on this matter, beautifully portraying how we, The Church, are called to be the village.

"As the church, we cannot say of abortion, "This is murder", without saying to the pregnant woman, "We will serve you."  If we are doing the former without the latter, we aren't truly understanding the Gospel.  We must listen, love, foster, adopt, give money, babysit, donate supplies, mentor young women, and support in whatever ways God has equipped us."
-Matt Chandler
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It seems so simple, yet why aren't we doing it?  Why isn't The Church being the village?  There are so many other practical ways to step in and be a champion for the cause, rather than participating in a march or holding up a sign.

"We must listen, love, foster, adopt, give money, babysit, donate supplies, mentor young women, and support in whatever ways God has equipped us."

I say, if we can't take care of the orphans that are living on this earth now, what shall we do? When there are over 30,000 abortions taking place in Georgia each year, what shall we do?  If we can't find foster homes to house the children who are a result of addiction and abuse, what shall we do?  Why are there over 170 children in foster care and only 10 foster families in my region?  Why do Christians outnumber orphans 15 to 1? 
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These are the honest and convicting thoughts I struggle with as I contemplate our purpose as a family, and as The Church.

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Phillip and I have officially been foster parents for three months now.  As I type these words, tears fall from my eyes.  No amount of preparation, training, volunteering, or even praying, opened my eyes to the reality of raising a child that is not your own.  Responsibility, consistency, patience, kindness, understanding, strength, faith, selflessness, devotion...these are all words describing what must pour out of us daily.  We knew it would be challenging, and it is.  But we also never could have imagined the joy a child brings when they simply bring themselves.  ​
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​During this season, we have had friends offer to bring us dinner on multiple occasions.  Our church family has made us feel more welcome than ever, supporting us in so many seen, and unseen ways.  My work family has rallied together to help us in any way they can--welcoming after school visits and making this child feel like she belongs.  Our own families have treated her as their own blood, including her in family plans and spending one on one time with her.  Sweet, dear friends, have gone above and beyond to help after school or when school is out so that we can maintain as normal of a work schedule as possible.  College friends have taken the time to talk through issues over the phone--listening and giving advice.  New friends have stayed up with us, hours into the night, encouraging and praying for us when times have been tough.  And not to mention the sweet friends who have called, texted, visited, and prayed for us during this journey.  
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These children come from a broken past, often times with no family to care for them and no community to support them.  But, when we welcome them into our home, they instantly have a village.  A village of friends who care about them, a village that prays for them daily, a village that genuinely wants to spend time with them, a village that makes them feel like family.  

Sometimes I wonder if this village is for them, or for me?  I realize, now, that it is for all of us.  It is for when I need a little encouragement on the hard days, it is for when Phillip needs an afternoon to himself, it is for when she needs a little girl time with someone who isn't acting as her "mom".  When this village of family and friends come along side us in this broken journey--we find the light.  We find a glimpse into what God created families and The Church to be.  We find the strength to make it through another day.  We find that extra little bit of love we need, just to pour it right back out again.

​We are the village.  YOU are the village.  The part you play in this village may look a little differently than your neighbors, but I would encourage you to seek out the ways in which God has equipped you.  

We have had people ask us on multiple occasions why we foster, do we not want children of our own?  If it were only that simple.  We foster because we don't want any child to feel unloved or go uncared for, we don't want any family to be broken.  We foster because it isn't about what we want.

Now, three months in, we find ourselves expecting a baby girl of our own in just three more short months.  
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Though this was somewhat of a surprise, we are anxiously awaiting her arrival.  What we wish for her is what we wish for every child that enters our home; that they will choose to work hard for what they want, love people whole-heartedly, live selflessly, stand up for what they believe in, and be brave.  We have been blessed with what I believe to be the best village around--and I am overjoyed that we get to raise this child surrounded by such wonderful people.  

So, thank you to my village.  You'll never know how much it means to us to know how much you care.  We couldn't do it without you!  
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If you find yourself looking for ways to serve, reach out to us!  We have been blessed to be involved with a wonderful organization in South Georgia that supports foster families and birth families alike.  We'd love to talk with you, and provide you with
​information and opportunities to serve.  
Learn More About Called to Care
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Perry's Nursery

6/15/2018

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PictureJorjanne
When we learned that I would be having another boy, so many people were disappointed that we wouldn’t have a little girl. I, for one, was not. Don’t get me wrong! I absolutely adore all of my nieces, and the idea of having a child who might actually enjoy shopping or someone to get pedicures with would certainly be fun - and expensive! And, I know for a fact that Chris would never be able to tell her no!

After having two boys already, I feel like I know what I’m doing, even if so many things have changed since they were born. Between balls, Legos, superheroes, and anything with wheels, I think I’ve gotten the hang of this #boymom thing! (Please note, I am also fairly certain this child will be totally different than my first two, and I will have to eat my words!)
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When it came time to choose how to decorate the nursery for our little boy, I decided that since we were starting over on a new adventure to incorporate that into the theme and use maps. First things first, I started my Pinterest board of Nursery Ideas. I couldn’t find any bedding I really liked, so I searched Etsy and discovered this beautiful handmade bedding set from Hagar in Israel. After talking to my sister, Leigh, about how much I loved the fabric and wished I could find curtain panels to match, she coordinated with my other sisters and my Mama to order the bedding, and Hagar even made the curtain panels too! 
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We planned a date for all of them (plus my dear Aunt Wanda) to come over and paint the walls. Originally, this room was Caleb’s nursery with bright green walls to go with the green gingham and frog bedding we used for him and Seth. Over the years, it’s been a play room, a guest room, my father’s room when he’s had to stay with us after surgeries, and most recently, a bedroom for my sister, Latacha, and niece, Kasey. Once they found a place of their own, my boys and I set to work priming the walls to cover the bright green so we’d be ready when everyone came over to do the real painting.
Since it has been so long since my other boys were born (14 and 11 years!), I had given away all our baby gear, including furniture. I found out that my cousins were selling their nursery furniture, which was beautiful and an incredible deal! 
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Slowly, but surely, we’ve added to the room to make it functional and fun. The futon will give my Mama a place to take a nap when she's babysitting or if she wants to stay overnight sometime. The glider-rocker was my Mother’s Day present from Chris and the boys, so now we have a place to rock baby Perry to sleep. The little rocking chair was mine when I was a little girl, and the wooden toy chest was Chris’s, for a touch of sentimentality. 
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Tara covered Perry’s initials with maps as part of the decorations for my shower, and they’re perfect for personalizing this room into his space. Wire baskets underneath the changing table hold burp cloths and blankets, like the one Roxie quilted for Perry. I even found baskets with map fabric to hold all the baby essentials, and a matching photo album that will get filled with photos of all our adventures together!
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Pick out something special for your own little or for a friend from our online store! Maileg Bunnies are some of our favorites additions to any nursery are treasured for many childhood years to come.
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Pregnancy Worries

5/28/2018

3 Comments

 
PictureJorjanne
My husband, Chris, has always wanted another baby. I’m the one who proclaimed we were done, especially once my boys were old enough to start taking care of themselves. Of course, in the back of my mind, I felt that maybe we weren’t completely done with children, but I really thought that God was leading us toward a path of fostering and potentially even adopting down the road.  Our family and friends always joked with us that we needed to try one more time so I could have a little girl for Chris. He’s such a fun uncle to all our nieces, but I knew if we had a baby girl, he’d never be able to say no to her!

l’ll always remember how he would play and make faces with all babies and little kids while we were dating. It didn’t matter whether we were at church or with family around children we knew, or if we were complete strangers to a child in a store or restaurant, kids seemed to be drawn to him. I knew he would make an incredible father, thanks to moments like this, and that’s one of the things that made me fall in love with him. I was right; he is an incredible father!
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With our first two boys, I was a stay-at-home mom. I’m grateful to Chris for making that time work because I know it wasn’t easy for us financially. Although teachers don’t make enough, losing my salary and insurance was quite a blow! Once Caleb started pre-school, and Seth started first grade, though, I began to toy with the idea of working outside our home again. I took a couple of long-term substitute teacher positions, which made it clear to both of us that I shouldn’t go back to teaching. Soon enough, Roxie and Matt talked to me about coming to work for them in The Cafe, which is how I joined the Fourth and Cherry family in 2011.
Fast-forward six years. By this point, I’m shuttling Seth and Caleb to school and extra-curricular activities, while working in The Café and as part of The Southern Mercantile team. I truly enjoy my job and feel as if I’m not only helping my family achieve their goals, but am starting to realize some of my own dreams. And then, I find out I’m pregnant again at 38 years old! (By the way, I turned 39 in March.) I must admit, I freaked out a little bit - my mind was reeling with thoughts of “I’m too old for this,” “My boys are old enough to do for themselves,” and “I don’t have time to have a baby!” When I revealed the news to Chris, I couldn’t tell if he was going to cry or pass out from the shock!
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The first person I called was my sister, Marcy, who is a nurse practitioner in a maternal-fetal medicine practice, which means she deals with high-risk pregnant mothers. She has been such a valuable resource and voice of reassurance throughout my pregnancy - once she stopped laughing! Because of my “advanced maternal age,” I knew I would be referred to her practice, which was just fine with me. I trust my sister and wanted her to be as involved with my pregnancy as possible! 
Once the initial shock of being pregnant wore off, my mind turned to worry and fear. I worried that I would miscarry early on, as I figured out I was pregnant around 5-6 weeks. Then, I worried I would have a later miscarriage, even into my second trimester. I worried about my baby having Down’s syndrome or some other chromosomal abnormality due to my age. There was a possibility that I could deal with Intrauterine Growth Restriction. And, the fact that Chris had a cerebral hemorrhage and seizures when he was born was a concern for the doctor, which made me worry about that. 
You should know that I am not normally a worrier. When I do have irrational thoughts that flit through my mind, usually I can talk myself out of actually worrying about whatever is going on. With this pregnancy, though, I found that hard to do. I have had so many friends and family struggle with miscarriage, still birth, and infant loss, that it became a real fear for me. I had this horrible feeling that something terrible was going to happen to my baby, and then I would not only deal with grief, but also guilt over the fact that I felt so overwhelmed when I found out I was pregnant. For some reason, I had this irrational fear that I would never meet my baby, and I felt like it would be my fault.
At some point, after being reassured by my sister (and multiple test results) that my baby was growing as he should, with no signs of any abnormalities, I began to worry that my fear meant something terrible would happen to me instead. This made me worry more about leaving Chris, Seth, and Caleb behind to raise our baby boy. Instead of blaming me for losing him, would they blame him for losing me? 
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No one really knew how I was struggling. I’ve never understood how someone could be so paralyzed by fear and worry, but now I do. It is mentally taxing, and I see now how it can even be physically crippling. I prayed and prayed for God to grant me peace somehow, but it didn’t come. Until Easter Sunday. 
I don’t remember much else about our Easter Sunday service, but I remember singing “Because He Lives.” And, I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit about me like I never have. I’ve always loved that hymn, even as a child. When I sing this song, I hear my Mama’s sweet soprano voice singing it along with me. If you’re not familiar with it, here’s the chorus:

    “Because He lives, I can face tomorrow.
    Because He lives, all fear is gone.
    Because I know, He holds the future.
    And, life is worth the living, just because He lives.”
Such simple words, but so powerful. I’m wiping tears even now as I recall trying to sing along that morning. I was emotional then, but could still sing until we began the second verse:​

    “How sweet to hold a newborn baby,
    and feel the pride and joy he gives.
    But, greater still, the calm assurance,
    this child can face uncertain days, because He lives!”
By this point, I was a blubbering mess, just trying to hold it together, hoping no one would notice! I felt God’s peace washing over me, a “calm assurance,” and “all fear is gone.” Somehow, no one else saw me falling apart, or at least they never said anything. I’ve told very few people about this experience so far, but felt compelled to share it with y’all. I want you to know how powerful God’s peace truly is, if you can allow the Holy Spirit to work in you. As Philippians 4:7 states, it really does surpass our understanding.
I left church Easter Sunday feeling so much lighter, even though my belly didn’t show it! And, wouldn't you know, God had already placed a reminder around me for when I would begin to fear again? A couple of years ago, my mother-in-law was cleaning out cabinets and found a plaque someone had given her when Chris was born. She passed it along to me, and somehow, that plaque ended up on the desk in the foyer of our home. What’s on the plaque? A copy of the hymn, “Because He Lives.” As I mentioned earlier, I’ve always loved this hymn, and as it turns out, this hymn brought great comfort to my mother-in-law when Chris was born with a cerebral hemorrhage and faced surgery once his seizures stopped. (That’s a miraculous story for another time!)
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The week after Easter, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes; no surprise, given my family history and the fact that I had almost every risk factor on the list. This means I have to keep track of my blood sugars, and if I don’t keep them under control, my baby could grow too big, which could mean I would have to have a C-section.  I’m now on medication, which has a slight risk for stillbirth, so I have to go to the doctor twice a week to monitor his heart rate, while I make sure he’s moving throughout every day. While these are valid reasons for me to be scared, I don’t worry like I did before, “because I know, He holds the future.” And, whatever happens, “life is worth the living, just because He lives!”
A big thank you to Summer Laurel Photography for our new family portraits.
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Strawberry Pickin' - An Update on Baby LK

4/27/2018

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We are so excited to have our dear Katelyn back with us!  We are so in love with this little girl they've brought into the world, and are so blessed to be a part of this family's life.  We thought that our readers might want to share in the excitement with us, so here is Katelyn's latest blog post about sweet Lainey Kate.

​They say time flies when you're having fun -- but it zooms by like a rocket when you're having the best time of your life thus far and also running on little sleep! It's hard to believe it's already been 6 weeks since we first met our sweet Lainey Kate, and what a wonderful 6 weeks it has been! Jake and I are loving this season of new beginnings. In less than 5 years we've both been new to South Georgia, new jobs, newlyweds, welcomed a newborn that made us new parents, and plans to soon plant new roots and make South Georgia, officially, our new home. Whew! 
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Read More Now!
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Summer Travels

7/6/2017

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I was truly blessed growing up to be a part of a family that traveled.  Since my parents were both school teachers, we had plenty of time in the summer to pack up and hit the road!  Keep in mind, my parents were school teachers, so these were not glamourous vactations full of ski trips, water parks, restaraunts and hotels.  Our road trips consisted of tent camping (thank you K.O.A.), dinners from the cooler (a.k.a. cooler crud) and finding all the cool stops along the way that were free or cheap!  ​While our trips may have been a strain on the family budget, they were full of fun and happy memories (somehow you forget the stressful times when it is over).  My brother and I were really lucky to have gotten to see so much of the United States of America!

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My brother managed to block me out of this one! More likely, I didn't want my picture taken.
From Mt. Rushmore, Devil's Tower, and The Grand Canyon, to a tour up the west coast of California, Oregon, and Washington.  We visited the world's deepest hand-dug well in Greensburg, Kansas, Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico, an Indian Pueblo in Taos, New Mexico, and the cliff dwellings in Mesa Verde, Colorado. 
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Yellowstone National Park
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Mt. Rushmore
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The Alamo
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Mesa Verde, Cliff Dwellings
​Every once in a while, usually in the fall, we got to go to places like Disney World and Sea World!
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Disney World. Can you tell we got sunglasses as our souvenier?
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Epcot, Disney World
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Sea World. I am sorry, there is no explanation for my shorts. Or my bangs.
Of course, as a teenager these trips got a little embarrassing.  We were getting the car serviced in California on one of our trips, and I realized that my dad was wearing a tie-dyed tank top, shorts, fanny pack, and Mickey Mouse socks with sandals.  We were quite a sight!
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Quintessential Old Navy 4th of July t-shirt!
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I couldn't go on this trip with the family because of my first real summer job! That is me on the flip phone. :)
​Y'all, this blog would be too long if I named all of the fun places my family traveled over the years!  We usually landed in Colorado for a week or so somewhere along the way to visit with my grandparents and play in the mountains we all still love so much!
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Our camp ground in Nathrop, Colorado.
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Taking the train to the top of Pikes Peak in Colorado Springs.
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Tincup Pass, Colorado
Being able to travel and see so much of our beautiful country did so much to help shape who I am today.  I am a southern girl at heart, but I am sure you can tell by touring my home and reading my other posts that my style and personality has been heavily influenced by sights and experiences I was exposed to on our journeys!  What a priceless treasure, to have been able to soak up different cultures, styles, people, and landscapes.  Thanks to my adventurous parents for being willing to load us up and be away from home for weeks at a time.  Your kids are better people for it!
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In honor of all of these nostalgic feelings this summer, Tara, Jorj and I thought it would be fun to spread the southern love across the whole country!  During the month of July we want to get a new Facebook "like" from at least one person in every state!  So, if you are reading this, and you don't already follow us on Facebook, head on over and like our page!  If you are a Facebook fan already, we hope you'll tag a friend from a far away place and help us reach our goal!  

​If you are heading out on a road trip of your own this summer, we hope you have safe and happy travels!  Share a picture with us along the way!
​-Roxie
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Faithful in the Little Things

1/19/2017

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I grew up in a small town. Scratch that. I grew up in a rural community outside of a small town. Next door to my grandparents’ farm and within a mile of the county line, I was the first one on the school bus every morning and the last one off every afternoon. Keep in mind, we have one elementary school, while the middle and high schools share a campus, for the entire county! ​

My father was raised on the Irwinville Farms Project, spent some time in the Navy, then took on several different jobs throughout the years until he started his own plumbing & electrical business. My mother married her high school sweetheart, only to have him pass away tragically in their mid-twenties after having three baby girls. She was set up with my father (who also had a son and daughter who lived with their mother) and married him soon after. Three years later, I came along. Mama was a hairdresser, and eventually Daddy closed in the carport so she could run her own business out of our home. At the age of 40, she started college alongside my sisters. Her first year of teaching was my freshman year of high school, and I couldn’t have been more proud to have my mama teaching my classmates!
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Mama, Daddy, and me as a high school senior
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At my dance recital of The Nutcracker
My family taught me the virtues of hard work, determination, and perseverance. They also encouraged me to follow my dreams, while keeping my head on straight. As a little girl, I dreamed of going to New York City and being a Rockette! I soon realized that wasn't going to happen, but I still dreamed of living in the big city. I was not going to be stuck in the small town of Ocilla, Georgia. You know, sometimes, I think God chuckles at us when we resolve that we’re not going to do something. We have no idea what He has planned for us, and that’s probably for the best!

​My junior year of high school, I started dating a guy that I could actually see spending the rest of my life with. He was different from other guys I had gone out with. He had dreams of his own to go to Georgia Tech. First of all, that meant he was not a University of Georgia fan, which automatically made him stand out from the crowd, but it also meant that he wanted to live in the big city of Atlanta. At first, we agreed to have no expectations in our relationship - just see where things went. As we got more serious, though, we agreed that if we ever broke up, that was it; no on-again, off-again like so many of our friends. We had fights and plenty of times I thought we might end it, but we never did! 
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Chris's senior prom. I was a junior.
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Chris came home from Georgia Tech for my senior prom.
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Sigma Sigma Sigma - Theta Xi Mixer
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My roommate, Jessica, second from the right, waits for Chris to propose to me.
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Chris was so nervous before this moment, and I honestly had no idea he had planned to propose that night. I was so excited, the DJ had to ask me if I said yes or not!

​While Chris was at Georgia Tech, and I was at Oglethorpe University (also in Atlanta), we had our own friends and activities. We continued to live our own lives, but certainly shared with each other. Visiting each other’s campus and hanging out with each other’s friends was re-invigorating to each of us because of the differences.  It was also fun when we brought our two worlds together, like the time his fraternity hosted a mixer with my sorority, or when his fraternity brothers came to our formal with my roommates. Perhaps the most memorable was when my roommate attended his fraternity formal with one of his brothers so that she could see Chris propose to me!
Chris was involved in a campus ministry at Georgia Tech called Christian Campus Fellowship. I began attending with him most Thursday nights as my class and work schedule allowed me to. Through that organization we found out about Globalscope, which partnered with Christian Missionary Fellowship to build campus ministries at colleges and universities around the world. We raised funds throughout our engagement so that within a week of our wedding we could participate in a summer internship with missionaries in Brazil! Family and friends still joke with us that they paid for our honeymoon!
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The beginning of our wonderful, crazy life together!
That summer of 2001 was so eye-opening and the best way we could have started our marriage. We did have a team to work with, and we lived with a young couple and their toddler daughter, but we really only had each other and God to lean on. There were breakdowns and culture shock, all of which brought us closer together.
After that summer, we went back to our normal lives in Atlanta, Chris completing his final classes and working part-time with a civil engineering firm, while I began my first year teaching middle school. Even though this was the life we had always dreamed of, something was still missing. We felt like we had left part of our hearts in Brazil and began to have new dreams of going back. Soon, we were presented with the opportunity to go back to Brazil as full-time missionaries and help create a Globalscope campus ministry. We were so excited!
The following spring (2002), Chris’s family farm was featured on a Food Network show called “Food Finds.” If you’ve read my blog “Muscadines, Grandma, and a Husband,” you’ll know that his family grows muscadine grapes. Chris’s grandfather, father, and uncle were interviewed for the show, which focused on the capsules “Papa Jacob” was making from the seeds of the muscadines and the health benefits they offered. At the time, he was making them by hand in his home office. I remember watching the show in our little apartment with one of our friends from Ocilla who also lived in Atlanta. Afterward, we all just giggled and stared at each other, amazed and bewildered at what we had just seen on TV! 
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Later that week, Papa Jacob called Chris. The phone had been ringing non-stop, day and night, with folks all over the country ordering Muscadine Seed Capsules! He believed that there was a real opportunity to create a value-added business based on products made from muscadines, and he wanted Chris to come home to start that business. That summer, we left our big-city life to return home. The plan was to get things started, then leave the company in someone else's hands so we could return to Brazil. 
Over the following year, it became more and more evident to us that we were supposed to stay in Irwin County. Serving God was our first priority, but we realized that we didn’t have to leave the country to do that. Looking back now, I can see how God worked through us and the chain-reaction of events that continue as a result of our decision to stay.

That summer, I discovered I was pregnant! Chris and I wanted to share our exciting news with our family in a fun way, so we went to The Shoppes at Fourth and Cherry to purchase a frame for our ultrasound picture. Roxie was at the register, so she was technically the first person we told that we were expecting. We had always known Roxie, since we went to high school together, but we weren’t close friends at the time. Little did I know how close we would grow!
In 2004, one of Chris’s fraternity brothers came to visit us to get away from Atlanta. This was fairly common, as many of his fraternity brothers would visit us, but this guy began to stay more and more often, and eventually he decided to purchase a building and business here in Ocilla. As a result, Matt was introduced to Roxie, and the rest, as they say, is history! You can read more about their story in Roxie’s blog, “Grow Where You Are Planted.”
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Thirteen years ago, we could not have known how our decisions would affect the course of our own lives, much less so many others. Although we always tried to be faithful to what we believed to be God’s will, we haven’t always understood while in the middle of it. So many times, we’ve wondered what life would be like had we gone to Brazil. Our boys think it’s crazy that they would know how to speak Portuguese! We still have a special place in our hearts for the people of Brazil. I used to wonder if we missed God’s will by not going to Brazil. And, while I know that God would have used us there, I feel like our purpose is to be here, in this small town, to encourage this community, and to share it with the rest of the world. I feel like for the last thirteen years, we’ve been on the cusp of something great in so many areas. 
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I’ve struggled with not feeling like I’ve accomplished very much, especially for someone voted “Most Likely to Succeed.” What I’ve come to realize, is that I may never do anything great myself, but I am a part of so many things that are. And, God has worked and will continue to work through my faithfulness to support those “missions.” God may never call me to do great things, but He has certainly called me to be faithful in the little things. That is how I should measure my success. 
Had we gone to Brazil, Matt and Roxie would have never met. Roxie and I would not be such good friends. The Shoppes at Fourth and Cherry would most likely have closed. Paulk’s Pride may not exist. Chris would not be a county commissioner. Matt would not be mayor. The Southern Mercantile may have never happened. You would not be reading this post right now! ​

Please know that I am not taking credit for any of this, but I do wonder how this all would have turned out if I had not played my part. God is using my faithfulness in the little things, and He will use yours too. When we’re struggling, let’s remind each other of that!
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