More precious than yesterday...

Today my little girl is 3 months, one day. That one day seems really monumental for me right now. You see, last night we had a scare. Now I know that all parents have scares. But I’m a first time parent, and this was a scarier scare than we’ve had before.
C was in bed sleeping, I had put her to bed as well. I was out finishing up a few things before bed. It was late. I should have been in bed sleeping, but I wasn’t. I checked on her, pulled the covers away from her face and I crawled in my bed and snuggled down into the covers, praying that she would sleep all night again. I hadn’t more than closed my eyes, when I heard her making “not breathing sounds” like when you get the breath knocked out of you.
I flew out of bed, in the process waking up C, grabbed her out of her bassinet, tried to wake  her, blew in her face till she finally started breathing again. Sleeping the whole time…when she woke up from us exclaiming and turning on the light, she just looked at us like what are you doing up? before snuggling in my arms and returning to sleep.
As I lay there, alert to every move and noise she made, I kept running scenarios of what could have happened. Had I been in bed sleeping, I most likely would not have heard her. Worst cases, flashed through my mind, until it hit me.
The things that could  have happened……….didn’t.
As I began thinking of the huge back story (extending back several years) to why I went to bed when I did, I stood (ok lay) in awe of our Abba Father, who loves and cares for us in all things. Even when the could have happend’s; do happen. I began to realize how much I have already – at only 3 months- begun to take her for granted. And I realized once again that she is first the daughter of her Heavenly Papa, and then ours.
Early this morning, as I fed her, and rocked her back to sleep, I held her a little closer, and kissed her little head. She started with her face splitting, ear moving smiles. Her eyes were closed and she was asleep, but perhaps an angel was tickling her, ’cause God knew that was just what this mamma needed this morning.
So Is she more precious than yesterday? No not actually, my eyes have simply been opened to just how precious a gift I hold in my arms.

Doing Dishes...

Growing up, my Mom always washed the dishes after supper. We cleared the table, swept the floor, dried the dishes & put them away. We alternated who did what, but Mom always washed the supper dishes. Perhaps it's because I never had to do them that much, or maybe because when I did have to do them it was most times Saturday and lots of mixing/baking dishes were added to it; regardless, washing dishes is one of my least favorite jobs. I can enjoy laundry, and dusting/sweeping, but washing dishes is another thing completely.
Today, as my little girl slept in the other room, I filled my dishpan with water, added some soap, and plunged my hands into the warmth & bubbles, and smiled. There was something deeply satisfying about washing dishes today. There I was, just me some soapy bubbles and the dirty dishes. I sighed one of those deep cleansing sighs, and thought "What's so bad about doing dishes?"
The past few days, my little girl has been pretty much "mommy needs to hold me all the time". I love holding her, staring into her little blue eyes, and talking to her. However, my family is soon going to put me on the show Hoarders if my house keeps looking like this. So to be able to lay her down while she slept, and do dishes, it was a welcome respite.
Maybe that is why my mom always washed the dishes? Don't know, perhaps I'll ask her.

Taking a nap on my doll bunk bed. My dad gave
this to me for one of my birthdays back in the day.
I'd love to use it to take pictures of twins someday.
As long as the twins belong to someone other than me!

She is 4 weeks old today. It's crazy. I'm hoping time slows down at some point. I feel like the days are speeding by. She is growing like a weed. Rolling from her back to her belly, ( dont most babies wait a while to do that?) talking to us, and completely wrapping herself around our hearts.

I'm a new person

My life has changed forever.
From my third story perch, I watched this morning as the sun tried desperately to push away the clouds & fog of night.
It's not the first time I saw a sunrise. It's not the first time that the darkness slowly gave way to day. But it was a first for me.
I'm not the same as the last time I watched the sun rise.
I'm not alone.
Nestled in the crook of my arm is this little tiny being that has bewitched me. She has completely stolen my heart. She has changed me. She has made me a mom. 
Her name is Olivia Kate.

Fleeting Moments on Main Street

It's been a crazy summer..
Crazy meaning whirlwind of events.
Crazy meaning out of the ordinary.
Crazy meaning there were times I felt like I should be committed (to a mental institution).
Crazy meaning unexpected.
Crazy meaning good!

It all started the beginning of June. Actually I guess it was the end of May.
My dad used to be on the local Water Authority for the town I grew up in. He still goes to the meetings and still gets involved. Turns out they own a house that they were taking bids to move or tear it down. Out of the blue the one evening, when we were at mom's, we decided to go check it out. We walked around, peeked in windows, talked about it, and suddenly in the space of about 2 weeks, went from not even looking at buying a house, to having our offer accepted, and beginning the journey of owning our own house.

It's taking some work, painting, new roof, obvious landscaping,  but we are excited about the prospect of owning a place of our own. 

Along with that comes change. C is not completely thrilled to leave his hometown where he has lived his whole life. I on the other hand am returning to my hometown where I spent most of my "growing up" years. However, it is the end of living on Main Street. After 23 years of living along main street, I will reside on a "quiet residential side street". Hopefully with lots of beautiful sunsets.

We spend most of our evenings working at our house, with whatever family members it suits to help. Painting, floor sanding, removing wallpaper, flooring, gutting bathrooms...we hope to move the end of September. We'll see how it comes along.

Firestorm Lisa Tawn Bergren

Firestorm follows the life of hotshot boss Reyne Oldre. After a tragic encounter with a major firestorm, Reyne builds her walls, hides behind her fears and becomes a no nonsense kind of girl. She leaves the front lines and becomes a fire specialist. Along the way, Relyne battles her way through all that she encounters. Including Logan McCabe, a smoker jumper, with undeniable charm.
 When a second fire threatens all that she holds dear, Reyne needs to choose to give her fears to God, or hide behind her well built walls.
I often find myself cringing at what I call the "cheese factor" of Christian Romance, while this book had a few of those moments, growing up as a firefighters daughter, and now the wife a firefighter; this book grabbed me and held on for dear life.
Follow Reyne as she battles through fires, life, loss and love.

This book was provided free of charge by Waterbrook Multnomah Publishers in exchange for this honest review.

Dont Judge a Book by it's cover story...

*Protected by the dark of night, Jaimie Piper runs. But is anywhere safe when Evil is hunting you?

She’s just a twelve year-old girl, bumped around between foster homes and relegated to school classes for challenged kids, those lagging in their test scores or with behavioral issues. But her real problem is that she can sense something the other kids can’t—something dark. Something compelling her to run for her life.

All Crockett Grey wants is to mark the anniversary of his daughter’s death alone.

But when his student Jaimie comes to him, terrified, her need for protection collides with his grief, and a tangled web of bizarre events sends them both spiraling toward destruction.

Crockett’s one hope of getting his life back is to uncover the mysterious secrets of Jaimie’s past and her strange gift. It isn’t long before his discoveries lead him to a darker conspiracy, secrets guarded by the highest seat of power in the world—the Vatican.*

---------------------------------
They say dont' judge a book by it's cover. All too true in this case. From what I read about this book, I was expecting a Peretti-esque book. Not so.

The first few pages drew me in. I felt the plight of the main characters. However, as it continued I found myself having a harder time getting into it. It proved to me, to be less Christian thriller; and more of a pointed expose of the Catholic faith.

Perhaps if I had been able to sit down & read it at one shot, I would have been less confused, and more drawn into the story.

Either way, If you get a chance, give it a shot. Just know that it might not be at all what you expect.

I received this book for free from WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group for this review.

Who am I?

I must have been standing nearby when the genealogy bug bit my dad. Cause it's in my bloodstream too.
Who am I?
 I'm Michele Frey. I was born a Newswanger. I come from Sauders, Zimmermans, Weavers, and Shirks. (The kind that couldn't come up with names other than Joseph & Peter.) In that line, I can trace back, way back. Me, Aaron, George, Esther, Peter, Joseph, Peter, Joseph, Peter and on back thru to when Peter & Maria came across the ocean to America.
 Should I choose to go back thru the Sauders, or Weavers. I could do that. And tell me, who in Lancaster Co. doesn't know of the existence of the Zimmerman Book. I come from a long line of talented people. Entrepreneurs, Iinventors, Singers, Engineers. (drill a tunnel thru a Swiss mountain from both ends and meet in the middle kind of engineers.) People who helped out others in need. People I've never met, but their stories I have heard many times over.
  I'm related to so many people, & alot of them, I know that I'm related to them.
  Not so in my husbands family.
  A recent genealogy book re sparked my interest into his family. When following his family back, it stops at his Grandfather. He was a foster child. His last name at birth was Frey, or Fry. We don't know for sure which one. He has 2 brothers. At least that's what we think. The book that I read recently said at 17 he went back to live with his birth parents for a brief time, but left because it wasn't a nice situation. That was new information for us. He died in 2006.
  For someone like me who can run into someone at Walmart and possibly be related, and possibly know how we are related, I find this situation frustrating and somewhat sad.
  When I run across someone on facebook with the same last name-spelled either way. I search their faces for familial resemblance. I search county websites for news of people with the same last name. I've spent hours searching obituaries for women who would have been born the same year Grandpa's mom was born. I attempt to find places that give free information like birth records. I have news for you. Even free birth records online are not free. I hope that someday. Hopefully sooner rather than later, that I can get some answers. I'm not looking for a big Frey/Fry family hug, or even a reunion. I just want to know where he comes from.
  The odds of me even knowing my husband are very slim, had it not been for grandpa's mom giving him up. It's a startling idea. How one choice can absolutely change many lives. Grandpa Frey was raised in a Christian family. Because of that choice, I have a husband with a Christian heritage that cannot be replaced, no matter what the genealogy search uncovers.