This Was NOT the Next Post That I Wanted to Write...

Not only did I not want to write about it, I didn't even want many people to know about it.  This was not something I desired my tens of readers to be privy to, but sometimes I have to look beyond what I want and remember the purpose behind my blog.  My purpose is not to portray this wonderful life without trials or challenges.  My purpose is to be real and transparent and encourage and uplift others while they are experiencing life's trials by sharing my own challenges and how God alone is meeting my needs.

Does it usually appear that everything is going my way?  Of course it does and that's not by accident.  I purposely choose to see the positive in everyone and everything, I am definitely a "glass half full" person and I approach everyone as if they have pure, and not ulterior, motives.  Maybe this makes me naive.  If it does, then I am naive.  I am content with this life of contentment, regardless of my circumstances.

Given all of that, it's still easier for me to write about things that are funny or memorable.  As a pastor's wife it's easy for me to portray this life of contentment--and it isn't an act.  I am truly blessed but it doesn't mean that I don't go through hard times too...it's just difficult for me to admit it.  This is going to be another transparent post, so I hope you'll stay with me and not move on to watching funny youtube videos.

My last post talked all about how I am pregnant with our fourth child.  Once the anxiety of telling everyone was over it was really sunshine and lollipops last week.  Then, I went Friday for what I imagined would be a routine ultrasound.  I was 9 weeks according to my calculations but my doctor wanted to verify my due date with an ultrasound since my cycles were irregular when I conceived.  So, I went in all nonchalant about it, by myself, at 8:00 in the morning and was thoroughly perplexed and concerned when I found out that my 9 week pregnancy appears to look like a 5 1/2 week pregnancy on the ultrasound.  That's a pretty big discrepancy and not something I've ever experienced before as I've only had 20 week ultrasounds up until this point.  The ultrasound nurse was pretty evasive about it, as expected, and told me that my doctor would look at the pictures and call me that afternoon.  She left me alone for a minute and when she came back I asked her if I should prepare myself for a possible miscarriage.  She told me that it was too soon to be concerned with that, especially if I wasn't having any cramping or other signs of a miscarriage.

When I got in my car I did the first thing that always comes natural to me when I don't know what else to do.  I started praying.  I told God what I was feeling and that I knew that He was the Creator of all things and He knew about this baby before the beginning of time.  He knew Lindy and I had prayed for His will in our lives and that we would continue to trust in Him no matter what.  I felt bad for Lindy because when I called him I was having a hard time putting it all in words and I was just sure he was thinking I was calling to tell him that we were having twins.  I am not, but it seems that even that would be better news rather than this reality.  We both called our mothers to fill them in and then I told my fellow nurses at work.  They are fabulous at always telling me exactly what I want to hear, I'm sure sometimes to my detriment, and they said that everything is going to be fine.  Nothing to worry about.  Still, it's easy to get caught up in fear, doubt, and worry; isn't it?

I hadn't planned on sharing this with many other people, but of course, when you are newly pregnant everyone asks about you, how you're doing, how far along you are, etc.  That "how far along are you" question has suddenly become a bit of a dilemma for me.  I almost feel myself wanting to put a "kind of" on the end of the sentence when I talk about being pregnant.  Of course you can't really be "kind of" pregnant, but when your baby is 3 1/2 weeks smaller than it should be at this point it kind of feels like you're kind of pregnant.  In the midst of these thoughts, I still had one feeling that overtook all the others...peace.  The kind of peace that only God can bring and that he promises His children if we only put our trust in Him.

Friday night as I was lying in bed going to sleep I was praying and felt God speak to me.  He said, "Do you trust in my Word?"  (The Bible).  I told him yes.  He asked me if I speak the Word over my body.  (I answered yes.  I do and I have for a long time.  Since I've been pregnant I've spoken the Word over our "bodies" and I speak against any sickness, disease, syndrome, or malformation that could come upon this baby.  I don't just pray it.  I speak it out).  God said to me that night, "Then, I am bound to honor my Word."  You see, the Bible isn't just a book.  It's the living, breathing Word of God and we can depend on His promises.  Hearing God give me that affirmation only made my peace abound all the more.

Saturday we went through our busy day as if nothing was unusual.  Sunday morning, even though Lindy never tells me what He's going to preach I was right on when I guessed what it might be.  He alluded to what we are going through but didn't come out and say it.  If you ever wonder if pastors are preaching to themselves sometimes, the answer to that is a resounding yes.  They also preach comfort and peace to their wives too.  He preached on one of my favorite passages of Scripture--Proverbs 3:1-6.  The part that struck me, of course, was verse 5 where it says, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding."  It's easy to trust Him when everything is going along swimmingly.  Not as easy when there are unanswered questions and cause for anxiety in our human, finite minds.  The part that really stood out to me though on Sunday morning was the second part of that verse, "...and lean not on your own understanding."  You see as a nurse I try to understand anything medical with my knowledge of the human body.  My understanding as a nurse of a 9 week ultrasound with a baby at the size he or she should be at 5 1/2 weeks tells me that the baby isn't growing properly or that the baby stopped growing 3 weeks ago and my body hasn't figured it out yet.  However, if I put my trust in the Lord and determine not to lean on my own understanding then I have to acknowledge that He is the Creator of all things and He is still in the miracle-working business.  He cares for every living thing, and yes, I believe a tiny little microscopic embryo is a living thing.  That passage goes on to say in verse 6, "in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight."  I know that He is going to make our paths straight in this situation.  We love the Lord and Romans 8:28 promises that "in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose."  He's bound to honor His Word because He promised to and He keeps His promises.  Lindy didn't use that last verse.  That was a bonus from me.  If you are interested in hearing a sermon that will bring you peace and encouragement, then I suggest you go to www.myrestorationchurch.org and click on the podcast link.  Yesterday's sermon will be posted by tomorrow at noon.  Yes, that's a shameless plug for my husband and his fabulous sermonizing.  It's my blog, I'll plug if I want to.  :)  It's your choice how to spend the 45 minutes or so it would take to listen to it.

Now, of course you know that in the midst of this I did some googling to get other people's opinions about this situation even though I know God is still in control.  I've learned to throw out the bad and hold on to the good when it comes to looking things up on the internet.  Back in the day before the internet when I only had my enormous nursing textbooks I went to the doctor because I was always diagnosing myself with one thing or another when I was in nursing school.  He encouraged me to put away the textbooks and "Stop it!!!"  I know a lot of doctors and nurses who wish medical information wasn't so easily accessed via their patients' fingertips or by watching Dateline NBC.  Anyway, while googling, I found several people's experiences with this same dilemma and the babies turned out perfectly fine.  I threw out the ones that weren't as positive.  The one I liked the most was a girl who said she was nine weeks along when she had an ultrasound and the baby was the size she should be at 6 weeks--just an empty gestational sac.  They were alarmed as well, but she was proud to say that they just celebrated their "empty sac's" first birthday.  Fabulous!!

I don't know why we go through some things in life, but as long as I'm going through something like this I might as well be transparent and, hopefully, bring some peace or encouragement to someone else.  Trust me, it would have been much easier for me to just remain silent for the next week and then act as if there was never any concern.  If I were to admit to any fear beyond something wrong with the baby or the possibility of losing the baby, then it would be having to tell three little boys that the little brother or sister they are praying for is not to be.  They don't read my blog and they don't know anything about this.  If you would like to keep Lindy and me in prayer over the next week then we would appreciate that.  If you want to leave me a comment and tell me that everything is going to be OK, then I'm cool with that too.  I'm having a repeat ultrasound on Monday morning, the 18th, so I will be sure to share the good report at that time.

I pray this week is a week of peace, abundant blessing, and favor for you.

Love to all...

You're Pregnant? Seriously? I Thought You Said You Were Just Having "My Three Sons"

So, I'm pregnant and the word is officially out now.  The most common reaction from friends and family has been shock and amazement.  I can't say that I blame them since I have always contended that I would only have three kids.  I never saw myself as a Mom of four, but I guess when you open your heart to what else God might have for you rather than the perfectly planned-out life that you have set up for yourself, plans can change.  Before you think this baby was a surprise, think again.  Due to my advanced maternal age this baby actually took longer to...initiate...than the other three combined.  You're probably thinking now, "What?  You actually planned to have a baby after Gavin started kindergarten."  Not exactly, but that's the way God's perfect timing is working in this situation.  Let me go back in time a little bit for you to give a better explanation.

If you're looking for a tangible reason for this change in my heart your finger could be pointed down to one person.  Her name is Grace and she is 2 1/2 years old.  Here's a picture of her.

My husband might not have put two and two together yet but I have.  You see, Grace's parents came to our church as our Student Ministries pastors when Grace was only about a month old.  We interviewed them when Dawn was great with child about 6 weeks before Grace was born.  I'll be honest, and it's nothing against Grace, but I was not nearly as enamored with her as someone else.  I was still holding strong to my belief that God had given me three healthy boys and I would be content, and was content, to be their Mom.  Lindy, on the other hand, was smitten.  And so started the endless procession of people coming to me with, "You know Pastor Lindy would like to have another baby, don't you?" or "Pastor Lindy just loves little Grace.  I think he would like to have a little girl."  This went on for about a year or more and I never took anyone seriously.  I was still holding hard and fast to My Three Sons.  Grace's parents didn't help matters because they both said they just knew I would have another baby.  Of course, this is coming from two people who only have two kids and only will have two kids--unless God plans different.  I had even tried to broach the subject with Lindy about doing something to permanently fix the possibility of having more kids.  He wouldn't hear of it.  After multiple excuses, eventually the reason he gave was that he was too young for that.  OK...yeah.

So, on we went with him hinting around and me very closed to the idea until last summer.  I had lunch with my good friend Crista, who just so happens to also be one of my employees.  Crista is a counselor and she also counsels me, maybe unwittingly, when we go to lunch.  You see, when you're a pastor's wife and expected to be the one with all the answers you need someone like Crista in your life to talk to and help you find answers.  I don't remember our exact discussion but I know by this point I was considering it but only if this baby would be born prior to August 1, 2011.  What??  (That's the cut-off date for school enrollment in Missouri and I was only interested in having another baby if it meant he or she would be able to start school in five years instead of six.  I know, I'm crazy neurotic).  Crista just casually mentioned, "Well, that doesn't give you much time does it--about 4-5 months."  At that moment, since I had put this stipulation on conception timing I knew it was now or never.  I was the poster child for fertility having conceived Gavin after only one month, so I figured once I told Lindy it would happen pretty fast.  When it didn't happen in 4-5 months and I mentioned to Lindy that we had reached my deadline, he said, "Well, you said that was your deadline.  That didn't mean I agreed to it."  I went back and told Crista and she reminded me that maybe this wasn't about my timeframe.  Maybe there's a reason why God would give me this last child in His timing and not mine.

I should stop here and say that coming to this decision was not easy for several reasons.  I never thought I would have a baby after 35 and I'm a...few years beyond 35.  In addition to that, I have battled the inner ear problem that I mentioned in this transparent post that started when Gavin was a toddler.  (By the way, I am doing fabulous with it and have only had one bad equilibrium episode in the last 6 months and for the past four weeks I have had almost no ringing in my left ear.  I can even talk on the phone with my left ear and that is huge).  There was also the hurdle to get past of "starting over."  My boys are pretty self-sufficient, Gavin is fully potty-trained and starting school in the fall, and now we're going to go back to nighttime feedings and chasing a baby?  You understand.  The women reading my blog will also understand my hesitance to go back to gaining all that weight again.  Yikes!  I'm not one of those cute pregnant women who just have a little basketball in front.  I get pregnant everywhere and losing the weight has gotten harder, not easier, with each pregnancy.  I lost every pound after Jac in 2 1/2 weeks.  It was not to be repeated after Ethan and Gavin.

Even given all of those reasons, the most difficult hurdle to get past had less to do with anything physical and everything to do with something very emotional.  You see, I had always imagined that I would have at least one girl.  Growing up, I was very girly and dreamed of one day having my own little girl.  My Mom and I have always had a wonderful relationship and I wanted to have that with a daughter of my own.  When we found out Jac was going to be a boy it was OK, because we fully intended on having more children.  When I had my ultrasound and learned Ethan was on his way it took me about three days to accept it.  The turning point was looking at all of Jac's little baby clothes and thinking how fun it would be to have another little boy to wear them.  You knew it had to have something to do with clothes, didn't you?  If Ethan had been a girl I might not have been as willing to have another baby.  When it came to getting pregnant with Gavin I waited until I was at the place that I truly wanted another baby.  I didn't want to get pregnant just with the intention of having a girl.  I was at that place...or so I thought until I had the ultrasound.  My parents were there with us (this was a first) and when I found out he was going to be a boy I laid on the table silently crying.  Of course, I was thrilled that he was healthy, but learning that he was a boy was, to me, the death of my dream of having a little blonde-headed daughter because the personal limit I had set was three babies.  That night at home I mainly stayed in my room with my mother and mother-in-law coming and going and grieving with me.  I understand that in being transparent about my feelings this may evoke some harsh judgment from some people.  If you are in a place of having fertility issues then you're probably saying, "Cry me a river, will you??  You're upset that you have three healthy boys??"  I totally get that, and even in the moment, part of my grief was the guilt over being so very selfish as to be sad over having three healthy boys.  All I can say is I'm sorry and I understand where you're coming from.  I have an old friend, Tracy, and we used to work together.  She had, at the time, a 2-year-old little boy named Joe.  She had Joe before we started working together and I didn't have any children at that point.  Tracy and I shared an office and she told me the story of when she was pregnant with Joe.  At her 20-week ultrasound Tracy was told she was having a girl.  She was overjoyed.  It was her first baby.  She had baby showers and was given everything pink.  They decorated the nursery in pink and were preparing to have little Caroline (I hope I remember the name right, and I love that name).  A week before she was to give birth she found that Caroline was not really Caroline.  Caroline was going to be a boy who they would name Joe.  Tracy told me that she really went through a time of grieving for the little girl she had lost.  Even though she hadn't really lost a baby and this couldn't really ever be compared to losing a baby, she grieved still over the loss of the idea of having a girl.  She had Joe and loved him to pieces.  She went on to have another boy named Jack and now they are both in high school.  I know she wouldn't trade either one for a million girls just like I wouldn't trade my boys for girls.  I love each one of them so much and my idea that another boy would be just more of the same was so wrong.  They are each unique and special in their own way.

So, this grief over closing the door to ever fulfilling my dream of having a girl didn't end in just one day. It would come in waves throughout my pregnancy.  One wave came one morning when I was getting ready for work.  I was weeping so much that I couldn't put on my makeup.  I'll tell you, that has never happened before or since.  Nothing keeps me from putting on my makeup.  I didn't tell Lindy what was going on because I don't think he could really understand what I was going through.  I drove to work, weeping, with my makeup in hand.  The person I turned to at work was the last person you would think I should turn to but the only person I wanted to see.  Another friend and employee, Margaret, was my designated shoulder to cry on.  Even in the midst of all my tears I was still apologizing to Margaret for putting all of this on her because she had wanted to have children and it was not something that ever happened for her and her husband.  She and her husband are actively involved in their church and have lots of "kids" with their youth group.  I felt guilty, but Margaret was as kind and comforting as she always is in any situation.  She is such a dear friend and related to my grief in a way most people wouldn't.  Just yesterday she came to me and we talked about that day.  She told me that if I have that moment again this time around, she wants to be that shoulder again.  What a friend.  Everyone should have a friend like that.

So, now you know all my reasons for not wanting to have another baby.  My heart eventually did heal and when Gavin arrived he was welcomed with open arms.  I still avoided girl clothes in stores, but I was ready for a third boy.  I love Gavin to pieces, although when he was about three years old and I was putting him down for a nap while he was really giving me fits, I thought to myself, "This child might not live to see the age of four and Lindy wants to go through all of this again???"

Given all of those reasons, why would I agree to another baby?  Well, let's just say that my husband is very charismatic and I adore him.  He was convinced that another baby was a good idea.  In the end, I decided that I would at least not prevent it and let God decide--not "let God decide"--Duggar-style--but just for this last one.  In the beginning I was relieved each month when it was not to be, but over time God worked on my heart and the relief began to change to disappointment.  That's when I was more confident that maybe this might be a good thing.  Still, no one knew except for Crista that another Carnett could be a possibility.  I thought someone might guess when they read the end of this post about my love story with Lindy, no one did.  You might pick up on it if you read it again.  I was already pregnant, and knew it, when I wrote that post.  I also know that I can have real issues with control and things going the way I think they should.  Having another baby is completely outside my frame of reference for what I thought my life would be at this age, but maybe that's another way that God is showing me once again that His way is perfect, not mine, and I should rest in Him knowing that His ways are higher than my ways.  Also, the night we announced to our families we were expecting--which just so happened to be the 20th anniversary of the day Lindy and I met--my Mom told me something I had never known.  Her grandmother, my great grandmother, was 40 years old when my grandmother was born.  She was the last of nine children.  It struck me that none of us in my Mom's family would be here, including my own children, if my great grandmother hadn't had that last baby at the age of 40.

I promise this blog is not going to turn into your standard pregnancy blog--not that there's anything wrong with that.  I enjoy reading my friend Stephanie's blog that is all about her first pregnancy and I've learned a lot from reading.  She actually had me considering cloth diapering, just for a moment.  I've been down this road before and I'm an old pro after four, not Michelle Duggar type of old pro, but I kind of know what to expect.  My blog won't turn into a pregnancy play-by-play.  I will post anything that I think is funny, memorable, poignant, or touching.  Soon to come is a post on recent conversations with Gavin about his soon-coming baby brother or sister.  It's on the funny side.

Thanks for reading and to everyone, especially Carrie, for being so amazingly supportive.  All our friends and family are very excited--at least on the outside.  They might be messing with me and chatting about the old pregnant lady behind my back, but either way baby is on the way.  Ultrasound tomorrow to determine the official due date.  I was 9 weeks along yesterday so in another week I'll be 25% of the way through this pregnancy.  (Margaret calls me "Statistics Barbie" so I had to throw that in).  We're hoping for an 11/11/11 birthdate.

More later.  Love to all....

I Survived Gavin's Chuck E. Cheese Birthday Party and Lived to Tell About It

Maybe surviving a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese doesn't seem like that big of an accomplishment to you.  It probably doesn't if you're a Mom or Dad who always has destination parties for your kids' birthdays.  I'm using the word "destination" loosely in this context.  I'm one of those Moms who, after 24 birthday parties for my three boys combined, has just now experienced an "away from home" party.  We did have Ethan's 5th birthday party at a park but that was only 2 miles from home and barely counts.  I have included some pictures of our "homemade" parties.

This was Jac's third birthday and 17 days before Ethan made his appearance.    Note my "impressively swollen", read chunky, hand in this picture cutting the cake.

Ethan's first birthday.  He looked like a little old man before we gave him his first haircut.

Here's Ethan digging into his cake.   Knowing him as I do now, he had probably realized the cake was chocolate and was trying to get to the good stuff.

Ethan's 2nd birthday party and one of my favorite birthday moments ever.   He spent most of his time feeding cake to his cousin, Jace, who is eight weeks younger.  Two cute little tow-heads.

Ethan again at his 2nd birthday.  Who is that skinny chick with the long blonde hair?

Jac's 4th birthday at home.  I threw this one in to prove that he really did choose Dora as the theme for his 4th birthday.  Ethan still teases him about this.

Jac's 5th birthday at our subdivision pool.  It was literally a cold day in June and Ethan and Jace were helping themselves to Jac's cake before it was cut.  That's Ethan's little hand on the left.

Ethan's 3rd birthday party in our backyard.  Yes, in case you're wondering, I threw this particular pic in because I am looking fierce here.  Alas, this was the same day I found out I was pregnant with Gavin and the skinniness was replaced by lots of swelling and looking pregnant in unfortunate places for the next nine months. 

Jac's 6th birthday.  I believe that was the year he had a Hot Wheels party.
Backyard, once again.

Jac's 7th birthday.  He was starting his third year with no front teeth.  If you've missed out on that back story then it will just have to wait for another day.  And, yes, I picked this picture because I love my hair here.  I was only 3 months out from giving birth to Gavin so I was also trying to hide my post-pregnancy belly.
(It is my blog, right)?

My Superman, Ethan.  This was his 4th birthday and began the years of dress-up for he and his younger brother.  He wore this Size 4 costume until he was about 7 1/2 and he couldn't fit into it anymore.  I had to ban him from riding his bike with the cape on because of some almost unfortunate accidents, but he said that his powers didn't work as well without the cape.

Gavin's 1st birthday.  I love this picture.  He is 100% full-steam-ahead Gavin all the time.  If you're gonna smile, give it all you've got.

Ethan's 5th birthday at the park.  I know this one is not very good at documenting proof of his party but it's my favorite picture from that night.  This is classic Ethan and reminds me very much of that self-confidence that he gets from both his Mom and Dad.

This was Jac's 11th and Ethan's 8th birthdays.  If you're wondering who that guy is who's singing in the background, it's Toby Mac, and as far as these two boys are concerned there is no other singer.  They chose to go to a Toby Mac/Chris Tomlin concert instead of having a party.  He was singing right beside us and Jac and I both got to shake his hand as he went back to the main stage.

Why this look of elation and spring in the step of this young boy?  Well, you have to look at the next picture to understand.

Gavin's 5th birthday, just celebrated on March 12.  He got a bike for his birthday before heading out to Chuck E. Cheese.

Here I am, surviving the party at Chuck E. Cheese.  If nothing else I'm colorful.  One of the funniest moments was when our party hostess asked me if our friend, Nathan, was the "Party Dad."  She was going to get a drink for him.  I said yes, thinking that he was a Party Dad, not understanding that she meant the Party Dad.  Once I realized what she meant I pointed out the real Party Dad.   Sorry, Nathan, you gotta be the actual Party Dad to get the hostess to bring you your drink.

Here are my two girlfriends/staff pastors' wives at church.  I posted this picture on Facebook and mentioned that I said when Lindy took the pic I told him I wanted one without our swimsuits on.  If you read that on Facebook, you might have been like, "Whaaattt?"

Here's the picture to which I was referring.  They, along with their families and my husband, threw me a super fabulous surprise birthday party a couple years ago at the pool.  It was a blast, and yes, I cropped this picture.  No need to show more than necessary.  Just trust me, we are super hot in our string bikinis.

Here's the smiling birthday boy and this face makes it all worth it.  We were waiting for Chuck E. to make his appearance at this point.  It felt like we were chanting "Chuck E. Cheese!" forever, and that's just a tad bit creepy in my opinion, by the way.  Later, the party hostess explained to me that the official Chuck E. got pulled over on this way to work that day and another employee was taking extra long getting into the costume.  Can our law enforcement not have mercy on a giant mouse whose purpose in life is to bring birthday merriment to the pre-school crowd?  Seriously!!  What is wrong with this world?

The birthday boy wearing his birthday medal and posing with the substitute Chuck E.  Don't tell Gavin.
He may feel like he got short-changed.

What's that face for, you ask?  Why, that's a 5-year-old who's all souped up on pizza, soda, games, and loud music and is getting ready to dive into his cake.

Gavin, hugging his Spiderman costume from Uncle Rob, Aunt Lisa, and Alex.  Spiderman was climbing the walls, or really, the banister later that day at home.

We closed out the night at Joe's Crab Shack where we celebrated Gavin's, Aunt Lisa's, and Alex's birthday.  Hopefully, Queen Lisa, who's waving to all of her loyal subjects in this picture, won't get mad at me for including this one.  She and Princess Alex were beautiful, don't you think?

So, that's the short and long of how I survived our first kid destination party.  I did it drug and alcohol-free.  No Xanax or mixed drinks here.  Just some retail therapy after the party.  It actually wasn't all that therapeutic.  I only bought a cute pair of shorts at the Loft.  The best part about not having the party at home is that there is no clean-up.  The downside is that I don't get to be hostess and entertainer to all of our friends and family.  I do love throwing a good party, no matter the occasion.  More parties to come in June.  I'm sure they will be exciting, regardless of the location.

Maybe You've Never Heard This Story That's Been 20 Years in the Making...

Maybe you're the type who doesn't buy the "Love at First Sight" possibility...
Maybe you think you have to start as friends and allow love to grow over time....
Maybe you think you shouldn't have your first kiss before your first official date...  :)
Maybe you don't think that it's possible for a couple to break up, almost marry other people, then reunite  and marry each other five years after you met...
Maybe you think long distance relationships never work out...
Maybe you've never seen a picture of the boy I fell head over heels in love with...

This is Lindy Carnett about 48 hours before we met.  The picture was taken on the way back from an Evangel College Spring Break Missions Trip to Salt Lake City, UT.  It was his senior year and my freshman year.  We met on March 11, 1991 the Monday evening following Spring Break.  I won't bore you with the whole story, but we met in Burgess Hall (my dorm) near the water fountain and were introduced by a mutual friend named Robin.  Honestly, I can still remember when our eyes met.  It's as if something inside me clicked and I knew that this was somehow going to be different.  He was soooo good-looking (and, unfortunately, he was one of those guys who knew it), but I'm not a girl who's only impressed by good looks so I did what came naturally to me and I made fun of his name.  I was immediately in love and the serial dating I had been doing my freshman year came to a screeching halt.  I found out on Wednesday that Lindy's suitemate was in my Anatomy class so I had someone close by to give me the intel on him.  Later than night, he happened to be in the lobby of my dorm when my friend and I were leaving to go to church.  Lindy decided he was going to flip a coin to determine whether he would go with us.  (I guess I must have invited him).  He kept flipping the coin over and over and eventually I stopped him and said, "If you really want to go, you'll go."  He went.  I found out that night that he played the drums and ended up playing because the drummer wasn't there.  One more thing to love because I was already a sucker for drummers.  The three of us went to the airport to watch planes land and then to Village Inn for hot chocolate.  By the time we got back to my dorm, we had our first kiss after my friend got out of the car.  Tacky, I know, but we were college students.  The next day he called me to ask me out for Friday night and I told him that he hadn't given me much notice.  I said to him that I usually didn't accept dates from guys who wait until the day before to ask.  Not very respectful, if you ask me.  But, I told him I would make an exception for him since we had only met three days before. 

Our first official date was on March 15 and we went to see "Dances with Wolves" and out to dinner at the Bombay Bicycle Club.  This was a double date with his cousin, Daniel.  Daniel eventually ended up with a different girl in the long run.  I took Lindy home to meet my parents the next day and my Mom's exact words--no lie--were, "Robin, that boy is too good-looking.  He's going to be trouble."  She thought, and many others did too, that Lindy looked like Tom Cruise.  Back in the day before Tom Cruise went loo loo.  You know, the "Risky Business" Tom Cruise.  That one. 

The next evening, St. Patrick's Day, I met Lindy's grandmother--Nana--and he introduced me as his "ride."  Nice.  He didn't have a car at the time so I was his ride, but still, give the girl a little respect, will ya?  Nana put me through the paces even though I was just Lindy's ride and asked me the questions that were important to her. 

1)  How much do you weigh?
2)  How tall are you?

Believe it or not, I told her.  She seemed to be satisfied and she liked that I had on lipstick.  (Some things never change no matter how many years go by).

So began our relationship and from that moment forward we were pretty much together whenever possible until graduation.  He even rode his bike to the mall to hang out at Hot Sams pretzel place where I worked.  I loaded him and his bike in the back of my car and drove us back to campus.  We "studied" in the library--this was really more about passing each other notes.  I met the rest of his family around Easter and he told them I was a sophomore and, technically, that was correct because I had clepped out of some classes and had enough credits to be a sophomore.  But, no matter how you sliced it I was still three years out from getting my nursing degree.  It bothered him quite a bit that I was 18 and he was the ripe old age of 21.  I loved his family from the start, especially because I had never had any sisters.

 

After graduation, we were pretty much long-distance until the next March when we broke up.  That's right.  We broke up on March 14 and it was not pretty.  I was devestated because I really felt that God had told me two months earlier that Lindy was the man I would marry.  There have only been a couple times in my life--and God seems to save it for me when it's a life-altering decision--that I have known without a doubt His will for me.  When we broke up it made me really question whether I could trust what I felt God had told me.  Later on that summer my brother and I were coming home from the movie together and I was talking to God about the situation again since I just knew He had said Lindy was the one.  God told me to be patient.  He was working everything out.  Well, patience isn't necessarily my strong suit.  I practiced "patience" by getting into another relationship and almost getting engaged.  He had the ring and then we broke up.  That relationship was the easiest thing in the world to get over.  All it took was an entire evening of me crying on the phone to my brother, my Mom, and then my Dad.  By the time I woke up the next morning I was over it.  I guess that was a clue at the time that the other guy wasn't the right one.  At the same time, unbeknownst to me, Lindy was engaged to be married to another girl until that relationship was broken off.

I went on to date other guys but never could get Lindy out of my heart, try as I might.  When I would visit Springfield I would invariably run into a family member of his or a friend.  Over two years had gone by since Lindy and I had spoken.  As I mentioned earlier, things did not end well and there was never really any closure to our relationship.  From September 1994 to January 1995 I kept feeling like I needed to write Lindy a letter to just wish him well and say there were no hard feelings.  (This was in the day before e-mail, text messaging, etc.)  I finally wrote to him and he wrote me right back.  We wrote a couple more times and then he started calling.  It was all very friendly.  I was living in Tulsa and he was in St. Charles.  By the time May 1995 rolled around we had been getting to know each other again for about four months.  We had broached the subject of him coming to visit me, but hadn't set anything in stone.  The day before Mother's Day Lindy was in a bad motorcycle accident and when his Mom came to the hospital he told her to call Robin.  She said, "Robin who?"  She had not a clue that we had been talking for four months.  I should back up and say that about two weeks earlier my Mom was visiting me in Tulsa and we were driving around looking at houses for me to buy.  (There I go being patient again).  She finally said, "Robin, there is something you're not telling me."  Mothers of daughters just know, I guess.  I tried to deny it, but she insisted I was keeping something from her.  I finally gave in and said, "I've been talking to someone."  She immediately replied, "Lindy."  I was like, "How on earth did you guess that???"  His name had not mentioned, in vain or otherwise, in over two years.  Mom said, "Oh, Robin.  Your Dad and I always thought you were too hard on him anyway."  Go figure.  Anyway, back to the motorcycle accident.  Debi ended up calling me to let me know and I flew up to see him in the hospital.  It was during the flood of 1995 and I learned that 17-year-old Ronnin was a scary driver in the rain.  Yikes.  She brought me from the airport to the hospital and Lindy said when I walked in the room he knew we were going to get married.  He's also said it might have been the Demerol but he thought I looked like an angel.  There must have been a light in the hallway shining around my long blonde spiral-permed curly hair.  I was his curly-haired girl and he was going to marry me.

If you haven't guessed by now, Lindy and I pretty much broke all the hard and fast rules that people have come to depend on when it comes to dating and relationships.  That two-day visit to St. Louis turned into us talking every day on the phone.  We would talk for hours into the night and I learned that you know you've been up late when you can still taste your toothpaste from the night before when you wake up at 4:45 a.m. to go to work.  Being long distance during this time was probably the best thing that could have happened to our relationship.  At this point it was becoming serious and we knew it was going to last.  He came to visit and brought his friend, Matt.  They decided on a whim to come visit me and they drove all night to arrive not long after I had gone to work.  He came to visit another time with Matt and another friend.  The deal that time was that I was required to have dates lined up for his friends.  We had a good time.  During those visits Lindy was still on crutches.  He had graduated from wheelchair to walker to crutches and had a heart-shaped skin graft on his left shin.  For the boy who was so sure of his good looks, having a bum knee brought about a little humility.  He was still my Lindy, though, just wiser and more mature than the boy I first laid eyes on. 

I also came to visit him in St. Charles a few times and when I visited in October 1995 I knew it was going to be so that he could propose.  I can still see myself looking at my left ring finger as he drove to 94th Aerosquadron Restaurant and knowing that after that night it would never be bare again.  He did propose and then I agreed to move to St. Charles.  About three weeks later, Lindy arrived with Matt, Dave, and Jenn to help me move.  We didn't know it then but Jenn was to be Matt's forever love and we are so blessed to still be close friends with them.  We had set the date for March 16, 1996 because that weekend was going to be five years from our first date.

God was right, as He always is, and I married my "love at first sight" on March 16--five years from the weekend of our first date. 


Every March since then has been a month of celebration because that is the month of spring when our love first bloomed.  Ten years after we married I gave birth to our third son, Gavin.  He was due on March 8 and I had resigned myself to being overdue.  I was hoping that he would be born on March 11 to commemorate the day we met but he missed it by 25 minutes and he was born on March 12 at 12:25 a.m.  He was the best ever anniversary gift when we brought him home from the hospital on our 10th anniversary. 

Now, it's March again and this time it's 20 years since we met and 15 years since we married.  Lindy promised me that life with him would not be boring and he's definitely kept that vow.  He always keeps me guessing, he is the funniest person I know, he's steady and dependable, he still maintains his "gonna be trouble" good looks, and he "gets" me when no one else does.  He's my best friend and the keeper of my secrets.  He's my every day testimony of what kind of spouse you can have if you trust God and put your life in His hands.  I probably would have saved myself a little bit of heartache if I had just held on to what God told me in January 1992.  It's hard to believe that we have this many years in our love story and I can't wait to see all that is waiting for us around the next corner.  It won't be predictable if Lindy has anything to do with it.  One more reason why he's my true love and why I'd go through it all over again if it means I get to spend the rest of my life being his wife.  Maybe we broke all the rules, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

A Terror-Filled Tuesday and God's Timing and Protection in the Midst of It

If you've never felt the terror that accompanies watching your child being removed from the ski mountain via ski patrol on a backboard and in a cervical collar, I pray you never do.  I experienced this terror yesterday.

Let me start from the beginning.  Our family is on a ski trip to Utah and yesterday was a beautiful day spent at Brighton.  Gavin was in ski school all day, Ethan took a lesson in the morning and Lindy and Jac spent the day on the slopes together.  I spent the day in the lodge reading a particular book.  I don't really believe in coincidence as a Christian and I know now that it was part of God's plan that I read that book on that day.  After Ethan, Lindy, Jac, and I ate lunch together the four of them set out to ski the greens together.  (If you aren't familiar with ski lingo the "greens" are the easiest runs.  There are also blues and blacks that are much more difficult than the greens).  I had just finished my book about 30 minutes before this incident occurred.  It was a book my Dad gave to me at the end of January and he has asked me repeatedly if I have read the book.  It's unusual for him to be so persistent about something but he was, nonetheless.  I brought it on my ski trip and read it yesterday.  The title is "Heaven is for Real" and it is a recounting of a 4-year-old boy's trip to heaven and back.  (He was seriously ill and in surgery and during the surgery he "went to heaven.")  This may sound farfetched to you but he was able to describe things in his 4-year-old way that are in the Bible but he would have no way of knowing existed at that age.  He was also able to tell his parents what they were individually doing during his surgery that he would have no way of knowing.  I am telling you, you have to read this book whether you are a person of faith or not.  I texted my Mom after I finished it to tell her to let Dad know I had finally read it.  I told her that I had to choke back tears through most of the book.  Get the book and read it.  I promise you won't be sorry.  It will give you a peace that you might not have ever felt.  I heard not too long ago that the only difference between yourself now and the person you will be in five years are the people you meet and interact with and the books you read that change your life.  Find the book.

Anyway, I was in the lodge starting another book yet still reflecting on a recurring theme in "Heaven is for Real."  The little boy is very insistent in telling his parents that Jesus wanted them to know that he loves children, He really loves children.  About that time Jac ran in the lodge and told me that Ethan was hurt and they were bringing him off the mountain.  I found out later that they had been near the top of the lift when it happened and Jac had skied the blues to get down to me as quickly as possible.  He even caught some air and tumbled himself but he made it down quickly.  When he told me Ethan was being brought down the mountain I knew it couldn't be good.  Most of the time when you fall on the mountain you can get up and shake it off and keep going.  If ski patrol has to rescue you, it's bad.  I took off at a sprint to the bottom of the lift to wait for Ethan and Lindy.  It was about the longest five minutes of my life, yet I still felt a sense of peace.  Obviously, I was talking to God the whole time but the thought that kept resounding in my mind is that Jesus loves the children.  I had a deep peace even though I didn't know what condition Ethan was going to be in when I saw him.  As he came into view I saw him strapped to the backboard but completely covered up.  He was attached to the ski patrol and Lindy was skiing close behind.  Before they stopped I could hear Ethan screaming and crying and panic tried to set in.  When I pulled the tarp and blankets back and saw that he was immobilized with his neck in a cervical collar panic really tried to set in.  Then, Lindy told me that he and Ethan had collided and both of them had fallen and that Ethan was complaining of severe neck pain.  Severe neck pain was not what I wanted to hear but Lindy said he was moving his arms and legs.  Thank the Lord, our first answer to prayer.  They got him into the clinic and as Lindy and I were walking in he told me that I couldn't fall apart or Ethan would fall apart.  If you know my usual response to any injury to my kids you know that it would have been expected for me to be somewhere else lying down or with my head between my knees.  I do not do well seeing anyone suffer, but especially my kids.  Instead, I went in to nurse mode and started having him move his arms and legs for me so I could see for myself that he could really move.  As I was whispering to him and comforting him I was also looking at his pupils.  As I held his hands I was checking his grips.  He continued to cry and couldn't remember what happened.  His neck was in terrible pain, but I had hope that he was going to be OK.  The doctor recommended that due to the neck injury he be taken via ambulance to the children's hospital in Salt Lake City.  We absolutely agreed because a neck injury is nothing to be taken lightly.  While Lindy went to gather up the other boys and all of their gear I stayed with Ethan.  At one point I noticed that his left ear was folded forward against the immobilization device and I was able to put it back.  This also caused him tremendous pain.

It felt like an ETERNITY for the ambulance to arrive but I had to keep reminding myself that we were about 18 miles up the mountain and the ambulance was coming up from the bottom.  Finally, it arrived.  Now, if you are prone to motion sickness I do not recommend that you ride in the back of a hot ambulance through the switchbacks with your son strapped to a backboard and not knowing how things would turn out when you got to the bottom.  I held it together but, trust me, Lindy would have tossed his cookies.  He was right behind the ambulance the whole way in our rental vehicle.

Upon arriving at Primary Children's Hospital the first thing I noticed stenciled on the doors at the ER bay was the saying "Healing Happens in This Place."  I latched on to that and continued to thank God for touching Ethan.  I still had a peace and I was still holding it together.  Once we were all inside I saw that Lindy and Jac were in bad shape.  Even Gavin was quiet.  They hadn't had the advantage of spending the last hour with Ethan and seeing firsthand how he was doing.  Jac was really upset about seeing his brother in this condition and Lindy had to excuse himself for a little bit.  I won't try to tell this story from Lindy's viewpoint because I know the experience was different for him in a lot of ways.  He was with Ethan when it happened and kept him immobilized until ski patrol arrived.  He skied down the mountain behind his little boy on a backboard.  I can't imagine what that feels like, but it needs to be said that I don't blame Lindy for any of this.  I told Jac in the ER that accidents happen.  Our job is to trust God to protect us and know that He knows all things and He loves us.  Jesus loves children more than we will ever comprehend.  I was reminded of that just minutes before this accident happened.

The doctor came in to assess Ethan accompanied by nurses that were prepared to cut his ski bibs off if necessary.  Thank the Lord his Spyder ski bibs zipped all the way up both legs so they didn't have to be cut off.  The expense of that would have been minor compared to the ambulance ride down the mountain, an ER bill, and a neck x-ray; but it was a small blessing nonetheless.  The staff rolled him off the backboard and the doctor checked all of his vertebrae.  No pain, Praise the Lord.  Then, they removed the collar and told Ethan he would not be able to nod or shake his head.  He would need to answer yes or no to the doctor's questions.  He checked out the vertebrae in his neck and no pain.  Praise the Lord. The source of the pain was a very swollen and sore left sternocleidomastoid muscle.  That's the big muscle on each side of your neck that you can see when you turn your head.  He also had an abrasion and a bruise behind his ear.  Somehow he lost a little hair on the side of his head in the process.  The doctor was pretty confident that Ethan just had a sore neck but he did an x-ray to confirm it.  The x-ray showed that he did not have any damage to his vertebrae.  Praise the Lord big time!!

Throughout this process Ethan had repeatedly been asked questions by the clinic doctor, the paramedics, and the hospital staff to check his orientation.  Questions like, "What's your full name?"  "Where are you?"  "What day is it?"  "What's your birthdate?"  Near the end of this heart-wrenching ordeal the doctor had just the five of us in the room and he was going over the questions again.  He asks Ethan all of the above questions and then he says, "Ethan, who are these two people" and he points to Lindy and me.  He replied, "My Mom and Dad."  Then the doctor points to Jac and Gavin and he asks, "And who are these people?"  Ethan answers, "My brother and sister."  The doctor glances at me with a look of concern but all the rest of us could do was laugh.  Our Ethan was back!  I explained to the doctor that Ethan is the wise guy in the family and this is very normal for him.  Lindy told the doctor that Ethan doesn't have any sisters, only brothers, and he was just being Ethan.  The doctor seemed satisfied with that.  Personally, I felt a huge release when Ethan gave that response.  Our boy was getting back to his old self.  Recently, I bought Ethan days of the week underwear which he loves and he makes sure to wear them all on the right days.  We brought all of them with us, of course, and I told Ethan if he had had his head on straight when the doctor asked him what day of the week it was he would have told him to check his underwear.  That would be classic Ethan.

So, after four hours in the ER we were released to go home and as I walked behind Ethan out of the hospital the only words that came to mind were, "Thank you, Jesus."  The night wasn't quite over because as we got out of the SUV on a downtown Salt Lake City street corner to eat dinner Ethan left a deposit of DNA right there in the middle of the sidewalk.  Not unexpected for him to toss his cookies after that kind of ordeal and they told us that vomiting would only be a concern if he did it more than once.  So far so good.

This recounting of a traumatic event in the lives of the Carnetts may seem to be just that, telling a story we will never forget from our vacation to Utah.  It's more than that though.  It's really a story of God's timing and protection.  I know it was in His timing for me to read the book I mentioned right before this happened.  He's so good to us in that way.  It's also a story of His protection and His abiding love for all of us.  We couldn't be more thankful for God's hand being upon Ethan and protecting Him from serious injury.  Accidents happen, as I told Jac, but the Carnett boys won't stop being boys.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  God gave us boys and I don't want them to live their lives in fear of what may happen.  Every day we take calculated risks.  Even getting in a car is a calculated risk.  I love my boys just the way they are and their father for having a huge hand in the men they will grow up to be--if we can keep them alive in the process.  :)

That's basically the end of my story, but Ethan is here with me today.  His Dad and brothers are back on the slopes today and Ethan will be too tomorrow or Friday.  I told Ethan as part of this blog post I would interview him about his experience so here goes.  We're in a little Park City cafe right now and he's wearing his hooded sweat jacket that Mimi got him for Christmas.  He won't put the hood down today because he doesn't want people looking at his neck or his ear that isn't quite back in place yet.

Mom:  "What do you remember about your accident?"

Ethan:  "I don't really remember any of it."  (He's basically blocked out the accident itself and the doctor said this isn't uncommon).

Mom:  "What were you thinking about when you were strapped down and couldn't move?"

Ethan:  "I was wondering where I was because I didn't know what had happened."

Mom:  "What did you think about the ambulance ride down the mountain?"

Ethan:  "There was an ambulance that took me down the mountain?"  (I guess he's blocked out that part too).

Mom:  "What part do you remember?"

Ethan:  "I remember wanting to get out of the big thing that I was strapped in."

Mom:  "What do you want people to know about your accident?"

Ethan:  "I was hurt but I'm almost better."

Mom:  "Are you ready to go skiing again?"

Ethan:  "Kind of, as long as Dad doesn't trip over me."  (I'm pretty sure that won't happen again and we don't really know exactly what happened.  It was pretty fast, skis got tangled, and both went down.  Lindy went down head over heels.  Ethan did a massive face plant).



That's all for now.  If you're reading this, and you're looking for a "take away"  the message is that God cares about us more than we know and, more than anything, His timing is perfect and He protects us and hears our prayers.  I hope you'll let Him be real to you in your life.  We trust Him implicitly and hope you will too.

Valentine's Day--Past and Present: The Post Where I Don't Change Any Names to Protect the Innocent

When I was a little girl my most recurrent memory of Valentine's Day was decorating my box each year to collect the Valentines that would be exchanged at school.  I vaguely remember writing out the Valentines to each classmate but the big deal to me was having a highly decorated shoebox to take to school.  My Mom is pretty creative in that way--and a lot of other ways--so she always had plenty of items for me to use for bedazzling.  At that young age I associated Valentine's Day with the Valentine exchange and not much else.  I recall one year when I was still in grade school when my Mom gave me a dark red sweater for Valentine's Day.  She probably got me something every year but for some reason that sticks out in my mind and I was touched by getting an actual gift at Valentine's Day.  From a very young age my Dad and I shared a love of chocolate and he always got me a box of chocolates each year--usually a heart-shaped box.

As the years went by Valentine's Day took on a bit of a different meaning and it was all about who was going to be "your Valentine."  The first Valentine's Day that I remember being truly smitten was when I was in 8th grade.  His name was Mark and I had a junior high crush on him for two solid years--literally from the beginning of 7th grade all the way through 8th grade.  In fact, it was so significant that I found that there were still emotions attached years later to a particular object.  Some time during the last couple years I was at my parents' house and was walking through their bedroom.  On my Mom's nightstand was a little ceramic flowered picture frame.  It was really small--the size that holds a small school picture.  Suddenly, seeing that picture frame brought about a feeling of angst mixed with young love.  I stared at the frame trying to figure out what made me feel that way when I looked at it.  Then, it dawned on me that this was the frame that held Mark's 7th grade, and then 8th grade, school pictures.  I would spend hours looking at it as a young girl but the frame, to this day, still held on to those painful, hormonal, 13-year-old emotions.  Anyway, I digress.  Now back to Valentine's Day when I was in 8th grade.  We had a banquet at church and somehow, someway Mark asked me to be his date.  My friend, Sara, was "double-dating" with Mark's friend and it was a most momentous event to a 13-year-old.  I don't remember much except that after we ate we walked from one building to another.  It had snowed that week and basically all that was left was a little snow and a lot of ice.  Of course, junior highers doing as junior highers do, a snowball (iceball) fight ensued.  Mark would not remember this, of course, but he ended up clocking me in the side of the head with a ball of ice.  It left a nice bruise and it hurt, but to a 13-year-old girl it meant that he cared enough to aim at me.  I wore the bruise proudly.

When I was 16 years old there was a Valentine's banquet at another church and two boys I was friends with invited me to go.  Their names were Scott and Shane and they were both 15, so neither one of them drove yet.  I didn't want to hurt either of their feelings so I told both of them I would go.  Since they were friends they decided it would be OK if I drove and picked each of them up and so that's the way the night went.  All very innocent, but we got some funny looks when they were taking pictures and there were three of us in the shot.

My first really, truly, I-knew-I-was-in-love boyfriend was Kelly.  He truly was my first love and being that he was my first love and we dated for all of 18 months you would think I would remember the Valentine's Day when we were a couple.  I'm sure it was special, if it could have been special with him away at college for a lot of that time, but I just don't remember.  I'm not sure if Kelly reads my blog or not and if that Valentine's Day was an event and I don't recall it I apologize.  Obviously, we've both moved on and are happily married--to other people.

Probably, my most memorable Valentine's Day ever occurred my freshman year in college--which was a few months after Kelly and I went through our heart-wrenching--on my part--break-up.  Why does a girl remember the break-up but not the Valentine's Day?  Anyway, I had gotten pretty good my freshman year in college at "playing the field."  I won't go into details in this post, but if you've ever been a girl in college who lived in a dorm you know--even if you're not willing to admit it--that you want to be one of the girls who gets flowers delivered to the dorm.  You want them to stay in the lobby for a little while, so others can see them, and you certainly want your name to be paged over the loud speaker telling you that there are flowers in the lobby that need to be picked up.  Come on, girls, be honest and admit it.  Well, one of the highlights of my year spent in Burgess Hall at Evangel College was being the "girl with all the flowers" on Valentine's Day.  Here's how it went down.  I was a little-more-than-just-friends with a boy named James who lived in Tulsa.  We would go out when he came to town and we had been friends since junior high.  In fact, he's the one who convinced me to transfer to ORU to complete my degree and that was one of the best decisions in my life.  James sent me flowers on Valentine's Day and when he called to ask me about them and I described them, they were NOT what he had ordered.  So, he called the florist and had a dozen red roses delivered.  Both bouquets were beautiful.  Right after Valentine's Day he came to visit and just to be sure I got the right flowers he brought more roses.  All three bouquets were beautiful.  Also, on Valentine's Day a bouquet of pink roses arrived.  Those were from Greg, someone who I had been friends with since high school and with whom I had recently been on a date.  All four bouquets of flowers were beautiful.  Honestly, I think my roommate, Suntaree, was a little annoyed with me because they were starting to infringe on her space and our room smelled like a funeral parlor for about a week.  People would stop by my room just to see the "girl with all the flowers."  It was a short-lived moment in the spotlight not to be repeated in my next three years in college.  Beginner's luck, I suppose.

Only a month after that wonderful aforementioned Valentine's Day I met my true love.  His name was Lindy Carnett and we met on March 11, 1991.  All thoughts of playing the field went right out the window and I was deeply in love from the first moment I saw him.  Since we are coming up on the 20 year anniversary of my love-at-first-sight moment I'll be saving the details of the beginning of our relationship for another post in March.  We were immediately inseparable and spent the rest of the school year--until he graduated and left for California--out every night together until curfew.  When the next Valentine's Day rolled around we were still dating, albeit long distance as I was in Tulsa by this time and he was in St. Charles.  It was really difficult trying to decide what to get him for Valentine's Day.  One of the boys mentioned above--and I won't say which one-- said that all a guy really wants on Valentine's Day is a really good kiss.  I would say that's a pretty fair statement and we weren't one of those couples like the Duggars who saved the kissing for after the wedding.  I still felt it necessary to get him a gift.  Guys aren't usually into flowers so instead I had a bouquet of 11 balloons delivered to his office to symbolize the 11 months we had been together.  He, in turn, bought me a plane ticket to fly up to St. Charles for Valentine's Day.  Where did he take me for dinner?  Not where you might think.  It wasn't really known as a romantic place.  He took me to KC Masterpiece Bar-B-Q.  Seriously.  I wasn't upset by that because KC Masterpiece had fabulous Bar-B-Q but it's not the first restaurant that comes to mind for Valentine's Day.  We didn't spend all of the Valentine's Days together between 1992 and the year we got married.  Now, that's really a post for another day.  However, I distinctly remember our first Valentine's Day as a married couple.  It was 1997 and Lindy asked me what I wanted to do.  I told him to surprise me, and surprise me he did.  Where did we go?  Well, back to KC Masterpiece because that's where we spent our first Valentine's Day as a couple.  I was touched that he remembered and it was very sweet.

I haven't had as many Valentine's Day bouquets delivered to my office over the years as I had in college and that's OK.  The ones that have been most beautiful are those that were hand-crafted by Judy in Granite City.  Just gorgeous.  My new motto has almost become, "If they aren't made by Judy they just aren't worth it."  In fact, I'm much more practical now and have been known to get really upset if too much money is spent on flowers.  I know that's terrible and I should just be grateful to have a husband that cares that much.  That's all I'll say about that because it was kind of an ugly Valentine's Day one year when I found out how much he spent.  Not pretty--the flowers were but I was not.

We've now spent many, many Valentine's Days together and if I was more of a romantic I would remember each one.  Part of the problem contributing to my memory of this holiday is that our anniversary is in March and so sometimes Valentine's Day and anniversary memories run together.  I do remember the Valentine's Day that fell the month before our 10th anniversary.  I remember it so well because the card from his flowers still hangs on our refrigerator.  It says something about being thankful that I had given him three beautiful boys--and at the time I was very pregnant with Gavin and we took him home from the hospital on our 10th anniversary.  It was a very sweet card because he was already referring to our 3 boys when we really only had 2.8 boys at that time.

I remember our 11th year as a married couple but I'm not sure if I'm recalling Valentine's Day or our anniversary.  Lindy took me to the Melting Pot--now that's a romance-worthy restaurant--and he had a bouquet of 11 roses sitting on our table to symbolize the 11 years we had been married.  We have a picture of that night, and if I was at home and not in Utah, I would show it here.

So, enough of Valentine's past.  What happened today on this Valentine's Day?  We went snowmobiling with our three beautiful boys and then went to dinner together.  Lindy said he owes me a dinner out with just the two of us and I'm sure he'll come through on that.  I got all four of my boys heart-shaped Reece's peanut butter cups and we celebrated the day together.  After all, it's really about celebrating the love we all have for one another.

Happy Valentine's Day to you.  I'd love for you to comment about your most memorable Valentine's Day.  Hope this year was a good one.

Random Thoughts on an Ice Day

So, "Ice Day" is in the title of this post instead of "Snow Day" because what we are having today in Missouri--at least in this part of Missouri--is mainly ice, not snow.  As I type I can hear the sleet hitting the window outside.  Lindy has just ventured out to Wal-Mart because he's "bored."  Not unusual for him.  He doesn't have to be at cooped up at home for very long before he gets bored.  The rest of us Carnetts--and today that includes myself, Jac, Ethan, Gavin, Grammy, PaPa, Aunt Connee, Aunt Ronnin and Justus--are braving the storm where it's warm inside.  The extended Carnetts are here because Ronnin and Justus came to visit and we decided it would be more fun to wait out the storm together.  We also have a fireplace and a generator so if the power does go out then we might have the possibility of a modicum of comfort.  At present, however, Lindy won't let us build a fire because we are in wood conservation mode in case the power does go out and we actually need fire to stay warm.  I told him this morning that it looked like the power might go out and so maybe we should start a fire...it didn't work.  (See, I told you this was going to be random).

Moving on....  In case anyone reading this post read my last post and is wondering how my 21 Day Fast turned out, here you go.  The short end of the story is that I made it through 16 days, with minimal cheating, before I ended it.  Why did I end it after 16 days?  Well, the dizziness made an ugly appearance on Day 16 and, to be quite frank, it's no fun throwing up when there's nothing to throw up.  It's truly not a fun thing to do, ever, in my opinion.  I would be a dismal failure as a bulimic.  So, due to the dizziness, my history with low blood pressure and low blood sugar, and the premise that this whole inner ear issue is due to a sodium issue (which I believe less and less); I decided it was time to stop.  Lindy was in agreement that sometimes you just have to know when to stop and how much your body can take.  On a lighter note, I noticed that while I was fasting I spent a lot less time shopping.  You might not make the connection, but it was significant to me.  You see, I like to shop.  I really like to shop.  Even if I don't buy anything and I just look and think about ideas for decorating or what accessories would go with which outfits, I just like to shop.  What's funny to me is that while I was fasting I didn't go shopping.  So, I've already decided that for next year I'm going to give up the three S's that are hard for me to resist--Shopping, Sweets, and Soda.  I lost 7 pounds during the fast and I know a big part of that is not having sugar and soda--which is laden with sugar.  I especially noticed it around my waistline, which at my advancing age, seems to be my biggest problem area.  I'd like to blame it on pregnancy x 3 and C-section x 1, but if you saw my friend Deborah who's had pregnancy x 5--and the last one six months ago--you wouldn't let me blame my issue on birthing my boys.  It really is the sugar and soda--at least for me.

A natural segue from shopping would be to mention my mother at this point.  She also loooooooves to shop and I know she's feeling good when she's out hitting the sales.  She keeps me up to date on what's in style, and she always has.  My Mom appreciates a good buy as much as I do.  Late last week I had to be in Branson for a 2 day meeting so we got to do a little shopping together.  I also noticed once again another thing that we really have in common.  We both love to read and I think we both get a little anxious if we go somewhere and we think there might be an opportunity to read and we don't have reading material with us.  She's also a really fast reader and while I was in town she read Nicholas Sparks' latest book, "Safe Haven."  I had it in my car as it needed to go back to the library so she took it to read while I was in town.  It was a fabulous book and we both loved it.  Of course, when she finished the book, this resulted in a trip to the library for us to find more Nicholas Sparks books that she hadn't read yet and some Karen Kingsbury books.  We talked about how if she's still alive and kickin' when I'm retired we would make a pretty good pair.  We would spend most of our time reading, taking naps, shopping, and going to lunch.  Sounds like a good life to me.

Continuing on with this random post, another thing we have in common is our long, strong fingernails.  We both got this from her mother.  Unfortunately, I also got my mother's thick ankles which she got from her father.  Why couldn't I have gotten my Dad's ankles or Mau Mau's ankles?  Seriously!!  But I digress....  Anyway, our nails grow so long and so fast that we sometimes can't keep up with them and just have to chop them all off and start over.  I know I know, those of you out there who have paper thin nails are saying, "What are you complaining about, girl??"  I get that.  My next task after finishing this post is to chop off my nails and give myself a manicure.  My other enviable feature is my naturally full lips.  All three of my boys got my lips and we call them "kissy lips."  These lips did not come from my mother.  In fact, back when people didn't pay good money to have lips like mine she used to try to get me to line inside my lips with lipliner so they wouldn't be so big.  Now, I proudly wear these lips.

Speaking of why Lindy married me...was I speaking of that?  I guess I wasn't, but let me tell you, the lips didn't hurt my chances with him.  :)  Anyway, the phrase "this is why I married your Mom" came up yesterday.  Lindy was flipping through channels yesterday afternoon as we were waiting for the ice to hit and a particular TV show from years ago was on.  Lindy said to Jac, "Jac, you see this TV show?  This is why I married your Mom."  What show was it, you ask?  Why it was "I Dream of Jeannie," of course.  Back in the day; many, many people--mainly boys--told me that I looked like Jeannie.  This was back in high school/college--the same timeframe in which Lindy and I met.  There was even one guy at ORU that could never remember my real name so he just called me "Jeannie."  Funny.  Jac's ideal woman is Carrie Underwood.  That's quite a lot to live up to, far away future love interests of Jac, but if you aim high, Jac, you might get close.  :)

The last random thing on my mind for today has to do with another old TV show from our childhood.  It was also on yesterday and Lindy was making fun of it.  He said, "I think this is the one where something tragic happens and all the people in the town pull together to overcome." To which I responded, "I love that one!!"  Of course, he was talking about every episode of "Little House on the Prairie."  Last night we were talking about how the word "blizzard" has been tossed around to describe our latest weather pattern.  I told him my point of reference for a blizzard is from that episode of LHOTP.  He thinks I'm crazy and so, of course, he had to give me the official definition of a blizzard.  Not long ago I was thinking about random, silly things that bring comfort to me through my senses.  Hearing the theme song to LHOTP brings me comfort as does watching the show.  "Brady Bunch" does the same thing for me.  The smell of plastic dolls comforts me and reminds me of my childhood, as does chocolate chips cookies baking.

Well, that's it, my friends.  Enough typing for today and time to go chop these nails so I can type even faster.  If you're wondering what's coming next on my blog, I'm going to do a post on "Valentine's Day--Past and Present."  Fair warning to any old boyfriends who happen to be readers, I will not be changing names to protect the innocent.  Check back in a few days.

Everyone stay safe and warm and don't venture out of the house due to boredom like you-know-who.