jumblednotions

Temporary PCS

3 ER visits

1 9-1-1 Call

1 Anayphylatic Shock

1 Surgery

3 Cabins

1 Cabin flooding

Pink Eye with Cellulitis

A series of unfortunate events. The lack of strength in my heart has been tested and proven to be weak. My soul numb. So many things seem unnatural, abnormal and plain wrong. My attitude sucks.

My kids have watched more PBS and movies in hours we will never get back. Survival mode has been activated for far too long and behaviors reflect.

God, I know you are sovereign. In the mess of this circumstance, seeing other facets of your character seem much more soothing than knowing that you control all things. The promise of suffering doesn’t seem joyful. My heart is reeling and walking in complete disobedience and certainly out of rhythm to normal disciplines I know that posture me in a place to see you clearly. Knowing that you are loving, comforter, wrathful and truly love your prodigal son (or daughter in this case) are some of your characteristics that I am clinging onto.

Negative Nancy is in full force. Lamenting the situation, the condition of my soul, and laying it before you is theraputic. Holy Spirit, only you can change this nasty heart of mine. There is no amount of mustering, rose colored glasses, or lacing my boots up that will remedy. There is even more comfort in knowing that only You can change me. I am broken. Done.  Prostrate before you. Soften this hardness. Pull back the veil of my clouded heart. I want to see you more clearly. I don’t need to see the solution to any problem or the end state of how I will be stronger. I NEED only to see you more clearly Holy God.

Do what you do best Holy Spirit. Convict me of my sin, convince me of my righteousness in Jesus, rip away the sin and restore me to joy. You alone are good. You alone own the affections of this broken heart.

I just found myself sitting on my new tufted Walmart-special couch thumbing through Facebook. It all started while I was picking up my closet and remembered I wanted to text someone who I was thinking about. I quickly became encompassed into my news feed from a notification and wouldn’t you know it– 15 minutes had passed. I promise this is relevant 🙂

My over analytical nature kicked in and I began to wonder what was so lucrative about Facebook. Every picture or post I passed sparked a thought. I can get so lost and intrigued by people. Which led me to my next thought– “woman (self talk of course), I wish I had a friend to talk to whenever I wanted, about whatever I wanted.” HAHA Did you get that? I chuckle when I write and see what my thoughts say. I do have a friend who I can talk to whenever I want and His name is Jesus. Aside from that, I believe most women have a need to vent and pour out all the “feels” that they have to a tangible human. If most women are anything like me (which I am very sure in this aspect they are), their minds ebb and flow through a laundry list of ideas in a matter of seconds. This conjures up an array of emotions that by the end of 2 minutes you can feel sad, happy, excitement, fear or insert-any-emotion-here.

Stick with me here because I think this will all come full circle. After all this thinking, I simply feel drained. I want to feel all these things, process all these things and TALK about all these things. Let the pity party begin. I don’t know that I have someone I can be that raw and real with. I mean I have a select handful of friends that I can talk to about anything but they will tire of hearing ALL of it.

And then it hit me. I am sure, and I mean sure that I am not the only woman that feels this way. And what in the world am I doing? Thumbing through Facebook, numbing my thoughts and hoping to find some hidden treasure of encouragement. That’s just it. Encouragement. I need it. You need it. Our kids need it. And believe it or not, our husbands need it.

I look around and see encouraging quotes and photos all over Facebook but what I want to see more of (in my own life in particularly) is more real-life, doing-life, digging in, truthful encouragement. For now my focus is going to be on two parts– my husband and any momma I come in contact with.

What do I mean by this? I hope in my life it looks a little something like this– honest responses to text, phone calls to check up on someone whom I may have only ever text, snail mail to a friend whose love language is gifts, random drop off of some coffee to my fellow-lacking-sleep mommas, leave-it notes on my husbands dashboard just to say “You make me uber proud” or whatever would be encouraging if someone did it for me.

And this blog post– I hope you find it encouraging. Maybe you are pity partying with a good ol’ cup of joe like I am and wondering what could make things better. Either way- thanks for reading and cheers to a new year!

XO Kins

You know the disconnect between what you know and how you feel? Like when someone says don’t worry, trust in God’s timing? It is so much easier said than done. Even when you know in your mind it’s what you should do but your heart is so stuck it doesn’t feel that way. So here again, I am going to be really vulnerable and air all my dirty laundry. Well- I guess it isn’t really dirty laundry but will definitely give you a glimpse into my often wayward heart.

I have this “I read-too-many blogs” problem. Maybe you can relate. I read something and if it pertains to marriage, I send it to Blake. If it has to do with teachers, I send it to my mom. If it has to do with anything that I can relate to someone I am close to, chances are I will be sending it to them. I love to read other people’s opinions/advice/perspective and automatically assume everyone else does too 😁 Anyway, I find that reading these often brings me to a place of discontentment – which is a huge proponent of sin for me. For instance, I will read a blog about how to improve marriage or tips to a more Christ-centered marriage and find myself jealous of someone else’s seemingly “perfect” marriage. Not that I want their relationship, but more like finding an immense amount of discontentment that my marriage isn’t “perfect” (which I am well aware that no one’s is).  (Total side bar but I chuckled when I wrote that thinking of the advice my momma always gives– “The grass is always greener on the other side… but only because there is more poop!” Thanks for the insight momma!)

I will then read a blog about a momma who gives no sugar to her kid and find myself so aggravated with myself that I haven’t been as successful as I have wanted to be with nutrition in my family. Or I will read a blog of a woman who always appears put together, always positive, and dinner on the table at 5:30. And you guessed it- I become so indwelled with thoughts of why I can’t seem to get myself together.

But you know it’s totally not the blog. It’s not the writer nor the content. The true problem lies within myself. My sin selfish nature moves away from a place of contentment and thanksgiving and that shift leaves me in a dark place.  I could read every blog under the sun and take everyone’s advice on how to make my life “better”/more efficient but the truth of the matter is I need a swift kick in my spiritual rear. Paul says in Epheisians, “… May you be filled with joy, always thanking the Father. He has enabled you to share in the inheritance that belongs to his people, who live in the light.” (v. 11-12)

Well there I have it. I need to be thankful to the Father. Focusing on Him and my inheritance given by the sacrifice of Jesus is exactly the remedy to my sin problem of discontentment. So today, I resolve to meditate in prayer of every relationship I have to be thankful for, every material blessing I have, and most importantly that I live in the light thanks to Jesus.

My vision has been blurred. For real though, since pregnancy my eyes haven’t been the same. They tend to go in and out of focus and nothing is clear. But, that’s not what has been on my heart. I have been really bogged down and anxious– this is me being raw and honest with myself and you. I really, really dislike that I worry so much. It is super selfish and me pretending that I can control something. Anyway, I have had some ‘health’ issues going on. And no not with my eyes 😉 I have had a nodule come up out of nowhere and it has been growing. Questions have been unanswered and waiting for results from my biopsy just isn’t easy. Patience isn’t my virtue. My circumstance has distracted me big time. I haven’t been able to focus on my calling. I have felt totally disconnected and out of place. My analytical personality (I can over think over-thinking) has been in overdrive trying to redirect my heart towards my purpose.

There are a few things I have noticed.

• I have not been as thankful as I need to be.
• I have not encouraged people and probably done a good bit of discouraging.
• Most of all, I have had my eyes fixed on my troubles and the the things I can see.

“For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.”     2 Corinthians 4:17-18

I read this scripture tonight and it stepped on my spiritual toes pretty hard. Where has my gaze been? Ha. That question is easily answered by my continuous thoughts about the unknown of tomorrow and worry of things I cannot control.

Why do I subject myself to this perpetual sin of posturing my heart to self rather than to Jesus? Clearly it is because I haven’t reached Glory but that isn’t an excuse to stop tapping into the realness of the Spirit and His power over my life.

God has a calling over my life. The biggest is to spread His love and the message of Christ (see Acts 1:8). That is what “fixing my eyes on what I cannot see” is all about. It is a constant struggle to keep this at the forefront of my heart. However, through the Spirit and true recognition of WHO Christ is– his power, his holiness, his supremacy– my gaze turns towards worship of Him and things eternal.

Like I said, I battle this struggle everyday. I am working on making the number of moments I focus on myself less and the number of moments I focus on Jesus more. I hope this encourages you wherever you are in your journey with Christ. I also hope that you will pray with me that our heart’s desire is to see Jesus and give Him every ounce of praise He deserves. I would love to know you are praying this with me, so leave a ❤ below and I will lift you in prayer by name.

XO, Kinsey 💜

It has been quite some time since I have posted. Honestly, it is because of all the “jumbled notions” going on inside of my head that I have had a hard time processing. Life has been totally crazy. Since the last time I posted, Blake graduated from flight school, we moved to a new state (mind you a DITY while I was in my third trimester), and had a baby. So again I say– life has been CRA-zy.

You know, I am so baffled by events that have taken place over the last few months that I have found myself at a loss of words (HA!, that may be a first). But for now, I will recount the events of the birth of our son. Please bear with me and extend some grace if this post seems chaotic, sporadic, and perhaps messy.

My due date for this pregnancy was set for August 27. By week 35 of my pregnancy, I already looked like I would birth a cow. It was a thousand degrees– okay maybe it was only 98 with 100% humidity– but I think it all feels about the same. We had just moved all 10,000 pounds (and that is the honest truth) of our belongings and I was in full blown nesting stage. Contractions became intense but irregular on August 21. The next day, it would come in waves. I would contract every few minutes for an hour and then it would stop. I was hydrating and walking and I’m sure my new neighbors thought I had lost my mind doing circles around our block.

That night around 11 pm I passed a large clot. Because of my miscarriage history, I went into panic. I called my doula, Doris, and bless her- I even sent her pictures. She had me go on to the hospital and meet her there. The cause of the bleeding was unknown and continuous so they admitted me and started the Pitocin. Doris looked at me and said, “You are going to have this baby before you leave.” WHAT?!? I did not come prepared for this. Just before I left the house, I had thrown a pair of underwear, a gown, and a onesie into a bag because I had yet to packed a single thing. We had not even installed our new carseat!

Labor came in full force. I was so thankful for Doris as she talked me through each contraction. She had me doing things I didn’t know I was capable of. Who knew I could do a squat at 39 weeks pregnant in the middle of a contraction? I felt pretty calm and optimistic that I could continue without an epidural.

Then the back labor came. Oh dear. I have NEVER known pain like that. My sweet little baby (he was unnamed at this point) was sunny-side up. The pain was mind-numbing and I was begging for some kind of relief. After the epidural my body relaxed. My water had broke, I was progressing, and a successful VBAC looked promising. Around 3 pm on Sunday, Baby’s heart rate would drop during an intense contraction. They backed off the Pitocin hoping that it would help. We were back on track as Baby seemed happy once again. This happened 2 more times. I had reached 100% effacement and 7cm dilated but Baby became more dissatisfied. I laid on both sides, my back, and they even had me set up for a period of time to try and encourage him to move past the “0” point. He was over it.

Around 11:30pm, my room flooded with 3 doctors, many nurses, and the anesthesiologist. It was imminent that a repeat c section had to happen. I broke down into a gut wrenching sob. I was incredibly disappointed with myself and my body for not being able to do something I wanted so badly. Blake, my mom and Doris were all there reassuring and encouraging me. Fear overwhelmed me as I had now been in labor for 25 hours and was soon to be in surgery.

I have never shaken so hard for so long. I was so worked up, anxious, fearful, excited, nervous, and ready to have my baby. The surgery went on without a hitch and after midnight Ace Silas was born. August 24.

I have to pause. August 24. That date may not mean anything to you but for me it was a day I will never forget. August 24, 2014 is the day that I miscarried our second child. A year to date later, I gave birth to our third child, my sweet Ace Silas. I cannot call this coincidence. This my friend, is the divine plan of God. I will forever be convinced that this was the Lord showing off in a really big way. A day that is marked with devastation and loss is also painted with life, beauty and abundance of thankfulness. Here is where I find myself- standing in awe of my Heavenly Father.

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is Your faithfulness.”  Lamentations 3:22-23

You know those times that you sit at church listening to the preacher and you know (I mean you really know) that what he is saying is directed straight to you? It’s only by divine intervention that the preacher would speak on that topic exactly when the Lord intends for you to hear it. I am sure there were other people there that needed to hear what he said but I am 1000% sure it was mostly for me 🙂 (Yes, this is selfish but God was saying big things to me!)

Luke 10:38-42

“38 While they were traveling, He entered a village, and a woman named Martha welcomed Him into her home. 39 She had a sister named Mary, who also sat at the Lord’s feet and was listening to what He said. 40 But Martha was distracted by her many tasks, and she came up and asked, “Lord, don’t You care that my sister has left me to serve alone? So tell her to give me a hand.”

41 The Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but one thing is necessary. Mary has made the right choice, and it will not be taken away from her.”

So I have heard this story since I was a child. I am talking at least 50 times. Why did it strike me so hard last night? The Lord was having a serious conversation with me and it went something like this…

Let me pause for a second and let you know a few things about my personality so the rest will make sense. I tend to be very worry-proned and also have an extra heaping tablespoon of people pleasing to add to the mix. This can be a dangerous combination.

The Lord definitely made me in His image but parts of my personality that were intended for His good have been distorted by my sin nature. That’s where things get wiry. My personality often emulates that of Martha’s. I love to welcome people into my home and play hostess– just like Martha was doing for Jesus. But like her I get distracted by my “many task” (v.40). Task have to get done but not at the expense of moments with my Lord. Why do I get so caught up in what I am doing for Jesus that I miss those intimate times of listening to Him?

The next part of verse 40 I find humorous and gut wrenching all at the same time. Martha ask Jesus, “Lord, Don’t You care that my sister has left me alone?” I laugh because I see myself in this position all the time– playing the woe is me card. (So not a personality trait I am proud of). She had the audacity to ask Jesus if he cared! But you know, I do this all the time. My prayers are often reflective of me questioning God and in a round-about way asking him does He care or see what is going on in my situation. Let’s go a step farther. Martha then says, “So tell her to give me a hand.” Did you catch that? She just told Jesus (mind you the King of Kings and Lord of Lords) what to do. I can sit back and criticize her for that but when I take a look at my own awry heart, it’s obvious that I do the same. How many times do my prayers command that the Lord do something for me or intervene on my behalf without His consent if it even falls within His perfect will?

Do you know how badly I would love to be a fly on the wall in the midst of this happening a few millennia ago? I wonder what sort of faces that Martha had been making, if she rolled her eyes watching Mary sit at Jesus’s feet, or if she huffed and puffed as she walked by. Even more, I wonder if Jesus looked at Martha with sad eyes or if he smiled a sweet smile at her when she questioned Him.

What is so cool is how Jesus responded to Martha. He could have really put her in her place and embarrassed her beyond all means. But His response is much different. He begins by calling her by name- not once but twice; then He proceeded to acknowledge the way she is feeling. “You are worried and upset about many things.” (v. 41) He took the time and patience to let her know that He knew she was struggling before He set the record straight that Mary had indeed made the right choice.

There are so many take aways from this passage of scripture. Today I realize how distracted I have been and unfocused on the One that matters most. Today I sit in awe of my Creator basking in His desire to love me and spend time with me. Today I take time to position my heart to wait expectantly to hear from Him.

I pray that you too will make time and find it a priority to spend time with Jesus and sit awhile to hear from Him.

Be encouraged –Kinsey

No heartbeat.

My story begins back in July 2014. I found myself with a pregnancy test in hand, toddler in my buggy, and sitting in the family restroom at Target. My heart- jumbled with emotions of peace, excitement, anxiety and sheer thankfulness that I would mother a second child. I was headed home from my husband’s family reunion in Tennessee when I decided my curiosity could not be suppressed anymore. I knew the results of that test would show two lines, proving what I already knew to be true. I could barely wait to tell Blake the good news!

Family day was the next day and Asher and I got to watch Blake fly a TH-67 for the first time. It was an exciting day to celebrate Blake’s achievements and low-and-behold an even better day to surprise him with a babysitter for Asher, a dinner date, and the news of another child!

Fast forward over the next few weeks where my anxiety was low because unlike my previous pregnancy, I had no sickness. It was a glimmer of hope that I wouldn’t spend the next 15 weeks with my head in a porcelain throne. I felt amazing. I spent days dreaming of being a mom-of-two, making plans to have a very different second delivery, researching the newest baby gear, and riddling names that would best suit my new baby.

August 24. Something was really wrong. I hadn’t felt this way since becoming pregnant. For sure my nausea wasn’t beginning. Everything ached, my stomach throbbed and a host of other symptoms began. What was going on?

Let’s pause for a moment. Like my notions (often jumbled), frequently my emotions are the same. I can think positively sometimes while other times thinking straight to the worst possible scenario. In this case, the thought of miscarriage never (and when I say never, I really mean it) crossed my mind. Even when the bleeding began I was still so encompassed by this child that I attributed it to placenta issues that the doctor told me may cause some spotting. A nurse friend suggested I take a trip to the ER to find the culprit of the bleeding. I was still in total denial even after she warned me that this could be a sign on miscarriage.

I was optimistic as ever as we dropped off Asher at a dear friend’s home. Blake and I held hands as we made the drive on that beautiful, sunny Sunday afternoon.

My attitude began to shift and I steadily became more uneasy the longer we stayed at the ER. Test after test and finally the doctor said she had ordered an ultrasound. I was wheeled down the sterile hallway that was lit only by a few sporadic lights. The room was frigid and dark. The ultrasound technician must have left her delightful bedside manner at home that morning. She was as cold as the room. I laid up on the table trying to position my head so that I could see the screen that she had tilted away from me so that only she could see. Blake stepped closer to her and peered over her shoulder. I know we were in that awful room for a mere 15 minutes but it felt like an hour. She avoid my questions and repeatedly said, “I cannot answer any of your questions. The doctor will see you when we are done.” This was like no ultrasound I had ever had. Typically, I can see what is happening, watch the heartbeat dance across the screen, and see what looks like a little bean in my belly. Tears fell from my cheeks. This lady wouldn’t even let me see the screen. What was going on? Blake’s face could be described no better than deer-in-headlights. He wouldn’t make eye contact with me and he too, avoided my questions. They wheeled me back to my holding room where tears wouldn’t stop. Blake held me and reassured me that everything was going to be okay. “Not until you tell me what you saw!” He cringed when I asked did he see the heart beat on the screen. His answer was not what I wanted to hear but he continued to say the doctor would be in to answer our questions soon.

We waited over an hour before the nurse came in to check on us and said we would be sent home soon. I asked her what the ultrasound had shown when she replied, “Has the doctor been in to see you yet, Mrs. Altman?” Of course this spiraled into another episode of tears and sobs because the doctor had yet to tell us the results.

When the doctor came in she gave me the most pathetic gesture followed by, “Baby has no heartbeat. I’m sorry Mrs. Altman but you can always try again.”

No heartbeat. My head fell straight to my hands as I burst into a mourning that I had never experienced before. My child was gone. I was suppose to protect this baby while in residence in my belly. I had failed. My baby was dead.

What happened after was a blur. How do you sort through these emotions? Devastation. Anger. Resentment. Fear. Sadness. When we arrived home, my sweet sister in Christ met me at the door with no questions but an embrace that held more than just me physically. She offered a prayer to the Lord and petitioned on my behalf. I will never forget her saying, “Lord, show us how this is to be for your glory. Use this as you write Kinsey’s story.”

Kinsey’s story. How in the last few months has the Lord used this? Let’s start by saying his grace was so abundant with me. My time with the Lord wasn’t always spent in a peaceful state. Often I said things out of anger and questioned who He was and why my child was gone. I lashed out at my husband and found myself fluctuating between sorrow and the joy that comes from knowing the Lord. Was this how I was supposed to act as a daughter of the King? Of course not. I often had an attitude of selfishness which is so sinful. But God continually showed His great love to me. He sent me friends that prayed for me and over me. He allowed me to go home to my family and mourn the loss surrounded by love and compassion. He also sent a forever friend whom I had merely crossed paths with months before as an acquaintance who helped me by answering tough questions about how she dealt with the loss of her baby. He brought people and opportunities into my life for me to talk about my baby and connect with mommas who had experienced this too. All of this contributes to the healing process He did on my heart.

“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9

This has been my motto verse since this happened. A constant reminder that in tragedy there is celebration. Not in myself or the circumstance but who Christ is to me and what He has done FOR me.

Today is my D-day– the day I was to deliver my sweet bundle of joy. My heart still mourns the loss and tears find me to remind me of what was lost. But in the midst of it all, the joy of the Lord remains in my heart as I catch glimpses of how He is writing Kinsey’s story for His good.