Mike Hacking Amanda's Blog

Hi everyone! This is Amanda’s Husband, Mike. I am hacking Amanda's blog along with some other husbands whose wives are attending the Allume Social. You can check it out here.

When I was getting prepared to marry Amanda almost 7 years ago, I knew she was a Godly woman who is intelligent and passionate about outreach to the broken especially on the mission field. What I didn’t know was that Amanda is also full of hidden talents and creativity. It would be a shame to have all that bottled up at home.

Thanks to the world of Blogging, Amanda has found an outlet to not only be an encouragement to other women, but share her creativity and put her passion for writing into practice.

As Amanda’s husband I do my best to be supportive and understanding. It’s obvious to me that being a stay-at-home mom is challenging and even taxing on her at times. Just like other women, Amanda can use some encouragement too. The Blogging community has provided her with a plethora of fellow women who encourage her on a daily basis. 

I pray that the women at this year’s Allume Conference have a blessed time… And don’t worry about the kiddos, we men will figure it out. Even if it means giving them “a box of donuts between 5 and 6 o’clock” (thanks for the idea Jesse.)!

We're rooting for you, Amanda. Also the Niners. But you more.

PS- I’ll be honest, I don’t know the first thing about how to Blog or furthermore, hack a blog. Therefore, after typing on my nifty Word Processor I will pass it on to Amanda to do the “hacking”.

Cadence Caller

Photo Credit

I remember when he came home from his first day of intense physical training. The door opening to the smell of Central Valley fog, the diaper-butted crawler making her way for Dad, the tromp of spit-polished man-boots, and the deep sigh of exhaustion mixed with pride. I worked hard. I am sore. I am man.

Man reached down, picked up the pink-cheeked baby, and kissed the wife who was eager to hear about the first day. He began to recount all he had accomplished: the 5 mile run, the 50 push-ups, plus the 50 more when a fellow trainee was found with smudged boots. He told me about the other work-outs—the flutter kicks, the up-and-hold-em’s, the holding-the-wall’s… All kinds of ways to either break a man down or make him stronger.

I remember him telling me about the older Sergeant in charge of the training, how he’d call out things like “When my grandma was 92; she did PT better than you,” “Left, Left, Left, Right, Left!”—and with each rhythmic line the Sergeant called out, the trainees would echo back—cadences.

I remember his words about cadences, “Somehow hearing that voice and being required to repeat it back with 60 other people in unison, it just takes your mind off the pain in your body. It pushes me forward. I try my hardest. Some of them are kind of funny too. I enjoy it.”

Cadences.

Whether the battle is physical, emotional or spiritual, sometimes you just need someone to call out words of encouragement. Mere words spoken from a heart of camaraderie have the power to pull you out of ruts, take your mind off the pain, push you forward and bring out your try-hard spirit.

That’s the power we women can have. We can grab our metaphorical pom poms and cheer for our friends and even perfect strangers—or we can sit on the sidelines or even join the opposing team.

We can offer those been-there-before and you-are-a-good-mom words to the momma whose son is having the Temper Tantrum of the Year in the grocery store (instead of quietly speculating how she could have handled it better). We can cheer for our friend as her dreams become realized (instead of being secretly jealous). We can grab our closest friend by the hand and begin to pray after she pours out her soul in tears because she’s about to lose her house and her car (instead of stopping at the thought that we don’t have the money to help her).

We can help people press forward—be Cadence Callers.

Do you want to be a Cadence Caller?? Me too! Here’s 5 Ways to be one:

1. Prayer Warrior- Be the kind of person that when you say, “I’m praying for you,” you actually are. The best way you can help someone battle whatever opposition they are facing is on your knees (or pacing your living room… or sitting quietly on your balcony.)

2. Safe Place- Be the kind of person that people know they can talk to because you don’t blab secrets. You are not a gossip. And you definitely don’t attack someone’s emotions.

3. Encourager- Be the kind of person that is FOR people. You want to see them succeed. You say things like: “Press forward! You can do this!” Maybe even throw in a “Rah-rah-shish-boom-bah!”

4. Truth speaker- Be the kind of person that can speak out the promises of God found in His Word. Be unafraid to call out the truth your friend might be blind to because fear is skewing her vision… Things like how she’s not ugly or how many blessings she has in her life or how you have messes in your house too or how things like colic and unemployment don’t last forever.

5. Listener- Be the kind of person that allows her friends to pour out their heart before you offer any wisdom or encouragement. Sometimes someone just needs to empty their heartache so God can fill them back up with Hope. God can use even a quiet mouth when paired with a listening ear as encouragement.

Really, that’s it. If you can do those 5 things, you can be a Cadence Caller, a pom-pom holder, an encourager, and a really good friend.

And hey, we are all works-in-progress, so if you know you are falling short in one of those areas, maybe consider working on it. You can do it! (<---did you see how I did that? Yeah! That’s right. Cadence Caller Outer right here. :))

This is the point of this blog. It’s why I named it what I did. It’s why I love being a part of this thing called the blogosphere… because I see it—the way we can impact one another in the best way. I’m not fabulous, or conquering… but I want to be, and maybe you do too, and maybe we can encourage one another.

So, because I really like rhymes and might just be a complete dork…

...a Conquering Cadence for you:

When troubles are getting near,

I will not give into fear!

When my kids spill all their juice,

I won’t let my tongue get loose.

When I feel angry and full of doubt,

My friends remind me what God’s about

When my friend seems really down

I’ll sing silly songs to change her frown

When the mirror is mean to me,

My friend tells me I look like a Queen

Sound off. (one two) Sound off (three four)

Ooorah!

Alright. I’m pumped. You? Go conquer your day! You can do it!

Your fellow Cadence Caller,

Amanda

Want to join in the fun?? Maybe you would like to leave a cadence in the comments? Or maybe just some non-rhyming encouragement (because really the rhyming was just for fun and so not the point)?? (Pssst… I would love to hear YOUR encouragement here too!)

Or maybe, if you are feeling brave enough, you can share how you need encouragement in your life right now?? xo


Sharing this in these wonderful places:

Spiders on Their Webs Snack

My husband currently does pest control. While studying for his different licenses, he would read our daughter his training materials (yeah, I know. There's a chance we may win the Nerdiest Parents of the Year award, but she really did like them... even beg to have them read to her). She in particular loves spiders. So, last year, for a preschool meet up that I hosted, the kids learned about the letter S and the number 8 and ate these delicious little treats. I thought now was a good time to share them with you.

Spiders on Their Webs Snack

Ingredients:
Jumbo Marshmallows
White Chocolate Chips
Semi Sweet Chocolate Chips
Pretzel Sticks

Will also need: 
Skewers
Wax paper
2 Microwavable bowls

1. Melt Semi Sweet Chocolate
2. Place Marshmallow on skewer, dip in chocolate.
3. Put 8 pretzel sticks into chocolate-marshmallow spider body so they look like legs and place on wax paper while chocolate sets.
4. Melt White Chocolate.
5. Lay pretzel sticks on wax paper in the shape of giant astericks and drizzle white chocolate over sticks so they look like webs.
6. For fast enjoyment place snack in freezer for 3 minutes so chocolate will set faster.
7. Enjoy!

This was the messiest part of this snack... adding the pretzel sticks to the mallow.

This part was a little tricky... the chocolate wanted to fall much thicker than the thin web I had envisioned... But it still turned out looking like a web.

You know their good when your ham of a daughter is too into her snack to want to pose for the camera.

These were so good! Is it okay if I confess to grabbing a left-over marshmallow, a handful of chocolate chips and some pretzel sticks and eating them together just about every time I walked through the kitchen for the weeks following this snack?? Yep. I so did.

Mallow, chocolate chips, pretzels... I think we are onto something good here. Makes me think of sweet and salty s'mores... oh yeah!

I'd love to know:
What treats do you make around Halloween for your family?


Happy Snacking :)

xo
Amanda 

Linking up at these wonderful places:

12 Signs You Might Be the Mom of a Toddler

I know. 

You don't actually need a list to tell you if you are the parent of a toddler. But it might be fun to see you aren't the only one (if you have a toddler), see what you are in for (should you want to have toddlers one day), or remember what life was once like (when you had toddlers).

Here's a very real glimpse into the Conquering house.

You might be the mom of a toddler if:

1. Your vacuum canister has more cheerios and goldfish in it than actual dirt.
2. Your house is only clean at naptime and bedtime (and if you are really honest, only one or two naptimes or bedtimes a week).
3. Your dining chairs are often turned over on their sides either to keep your child from dancing on the dining room table or to use as a make shift baby-gate.
4. Your diet now primarily consists of goldfish, cheerios, chicken nuggets, apple sauce, bananas and cheese… and anything else you can manage to get your child to eat that's green and/or helps with the daily BM.
5. You count how many times your child has a BM.
6. Me talking about BM’s doesn’t faze you.
7. Your shoulders constantly have either mushy crumbs on them, snot, or drool… or all three.
8. You count going to the bathroom by yourself as a source of joy.
9. You understand what “duh,” “guh,” and “bah” mean. You also understand that they can have different meanings depending on where you are and how it’s spoken.
10. The first places you look when your remote controller goes missing are the trash can, the dishwasher, the toy bin, the drawers in your kitchen, and maybe even the toilet on a particularly rough day.
11. The only way you arrive on time anywhere is if you start attempting to leave one whole hour before you actually need to leave to get there on time.
12. You've brushed cheerios off of someone's rump today (including your own).

And here's two very toddler pictures of my cheerio-butt-fashion, goldfish-eating, mess-making, climbing-and-making-his-momma's-heart-stop and the source of all kinds of joy in our house--Jed.

This conquering housewife has been feeling a little defeated lately. I needed to laugh and appreciate some really simple things in life.

Want to add to the laughs and/or the realness? I would love it if you'd share: How can you tell you or someone you know has a toddler?

xo
Amanda

On Sailing and Obedience

I picture this sailboat. 

Red

with big white sails. Out on the open ocean.

I imagine the wind in my hair, the regret

at not putting my now-wind-frazzled hair in a ponytail,

the taste of sea and salt in my mouth,

gulls flying.

I think of how I may want

to get somewhere.

I know very little about sailing, but I do

know that you use the wind

to get you places.

Photo Credit

I think of God.

And how sometimes I can do something that I know God has put on my heart to do

and somehow I have the energy

and the strength

that propels me forward.

Wind in sails.

Obedience.

I think of how sometimes I get focused on the future

and where I want to be

and  how it feels like I am not getting anywhere,

and I pull out my oars.

I try

to make things happen on my own.

I deplete my strength,

I get exhausted,

and I seem to not really go anywhere—

especially for all my efforts.

Photo Credit

Striving.

I think on how timing

and direction

are important with sailing.

So it is with God’s plans.

The word striving comes from the word strife—

and it’s true.

Striving is to be at strife with God’s Will—

or just His timing—

or just His direction.

Like rowing against the wind.

I think of the way that I can toil

and work

and spin

my metaphorical wheels, and seem to get nowhere

besides tired.

I think of the way

I sometimes sense this stirring

in my heart,

like an open book

with pages fluttering forward

by the invisible fingers of the wind

open at the command

of a breezy day.

God is moving

and I line myself up

with His Will

and I move forward,

easily,

almost effortlessly.

Photo Credit

“The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit.” John 3:8

Friends, I have seen God move here in this writing and on this blog. I have seen Him propel me forward. But I have also seen myself try way too hard, exhaust myself to no avail, and come painfully close to burn-out. I am thinking on this right now. On striving and obedience. More than I want to get somewhere; I want to obey.

What do you think? Do you see this in your life… the rowing and the wind?? The striving and the obedience?? Love to hear your thoughts!

By Grace,

Amanda

Happy to link this up here:

10 Things My Allume Roomie Needs to Know

Just for fun and just to celebrate the conference I get to attend at the end of the month, I decided to join up with other Allume attendees at Brooke McGlothlin's blog and write the 10 things I want my Allume conference roomie to know about me.

This is my first time going to any kind of blogging/writing/social media conference and my first time going to any kind of conference that I had to fly to get to. I am nervous and excited! I can't believe I get to go!

My Roomie is Jacqui from Faith and Simplicity. I have met her once inRL and I am pretty sure she's like my sister from another mister. She's such a sweetheart and seems to process things freakishly similar to me.
{Update 10/9/12: I have TWO more roommates, whom I do not know at all, but I can tell, I definitely want to meet them! Anna and Sarah, I have a feeling we are going to have fun.}

Just as a warning: You may find out way more about me than you ever wanted to know.

1. I get really silly when I am tired and it's late... like crazy-stupid silly, like laugh-at-all-my-own-jokes silly, like none-of-my-jokes-are funny-at-any-other-time silly, like make-up-dance-moves-to-Backstreet-Boy's-songs silly. Yeah. You've been warned.
2. While I may come to life at night, this princess turns into a pumpkin in the morning (or perhaps more accurately a bear). Probably best to avoid talking to me until I've had my coffee.
3. I really like chocolate. Any kind (white, dark, milk, semi-sweet, bittersweet... Symphony bars with almonds and toffee...)
4. I drink foo-foo coffee (iced half-sweet vanilla latte or iced carmel macchiato, half the pumps of vanilla and easy on the caramel, just saying). I just can't get into black coffee.
5. I am an introvert. Just because I am quiet, doesn't mean I don't want to be around you. I may just not know what to say at that moment. I may just be enjoying the quiet. Also, I have to have quiet time by myself to recharge daily. If you can't find me, there's a good chance I am taking a walk in the fresh air, hiding in the room, or sitting somewhere quiet to read my Bible and meditate.
6. I am really approachable and love to problem solve. If I am hogging the bathroom mirror, said something wrong (as I am prone to when I am tired, see point 1), or you would like some quiet time too because say you are an introvert like me, just say so :)
7. Some of my favorite music: Matisyahu, Mumford and Sons, songs like "Boot-Scootin Boogie" by Brooks and Dunn, "Rapper's Delight," just about anything from the 90's, and anything I can sing and/or dance to. Oh and Hillsong United. Favorite. Worship. Band. Ever. (Oh and I pretty much can't help but sing and dance along anytime there is music. If I don't sing and dance, my head starts bobbing in rhythm and my eyebrows go up and down with the notes of the melody. Just let me sing and dance. Or keep the music off. Or better yet, Join me!)
8. In college I used to participate in rap-offs with a group of friends. Wanna go? Ha!!... But seriously... want to? ;)
9. I am pretty sure I don't snore or have strange odors... unless I am pregnant (I know, tmi... but seriously! And no, I am not pregnant... you can breathe a sigh of relief, roomie). Once when I was younger, while asleep at a sleepover, I sat up in bed, looked at everyone, and yelled at the top of my lungs, "Kmart! No!" I slammed my fist into my pillow, and went back to sleep. I have no recollection of this and am pretty sure this all happened while sleeping. Keep me away from Kmart? Ha!
10. This is my first time leaving my son (1) over night, the longest I have been away from my daughter (4), my first time flying since I was in 8th grade, and the longest I have left my husband since being married (7 years). I may vascilliate between "Yay! girl time!" and "I just SO miss my kids and husband!"

And just to help you out...This face:

Don't be alarmed by this face. It's just me trying to get my flat, straight hair to be more voluminous. My hair is often straight and flat. This face will happen often. Ha!

I would love to know (Allume attendees and my readers alike), do we have anything in common??

xo
Amanda

Psssst... Want to find me on twitter??: @conqhousewife

{In which YOU Share} On Death and Loss and Miscarriage and How God Can Still Be There

I had another reader respond with a desire to share her story of waiting. 

It's a story of incredible loss and pass and devastation. But there's hope, and such grace. (Do read to the end. But just a fair warning, you may want to read with a tissue.)  

Patricia's Waiting Room

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

I felt drawn to his grave.  I felt a measure of comfort knowing there was a physical place where he was still with me, though dead.  He was only 5 months old when he died.  It wasn’t a quick unexpected death like SIDS. It felt more like a long ordeal.  He was born with congenial heart disease.  What that means is his heart didn’t form properly. After lots of procedures, operations, hospitals, and doctors, at 5 months old, my sweet, precious baby boy died. 

 I stood over the grave and cried. I recited, “The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want…”  I told myself to be strong.  I kept thinking of the phrase you see on funeral flowers, “Rest in peace.”  The thought struck me, how could my little one “Rest in peace,” if I was wailing and carrying on. I stood and told my son, “Go on, and be with Jesus, momma’s going to be ok.  Don’t you worry about me. I’m going to be fine.  I love you.” With new found resolve, I left and tried to move on. 

Most everyone was supportive.  They tried to comfort, pass on wisdom, insight. The problem wasn’t with them, it was with me. I felt dead inside, dark, and empty.  I knew rationally that I loved my husband, but, to be honest, I didn’t feel it. As time went on, people got on with their lives. I felt left behind. They seemed happy, and I felt stuck in grief. They didn’t know what to say to me, nor I to them.  Grief can be so isolating.  I felt like a mom, but had no child to mother.  

My husband was after me to go back to work.  We fought.  I wasn’t happy.  We were still both grieving.  We fought some more.  

Then the day came, a spark of hope, my period was late.  I took a test and, yes, I was pregnant. The joy didn’t last longer than a month. Cramps signaled the end.  

Again the day came, a spark of hope, again my period was late, again I took a test and again I was pregnant.  Again, cramps signaled the end. 

I cried a lot.  I already felt somehow responsible for my son’s condition and death.  Then with the miscarriages I felt like, boy, there must be something terribly wrong with me, a failure.  God must hate me, and I must have somehow gotten on His “bad things are going to happen to her” list.  I was convinced God had such a list, based on my experience.  Though to be clear, I didn’t know God any more than occasionally attending Sunday school growing up, and I certainly hadn’t read the Bible.

My doctor advised me to put off, wait awhile before trying again to get pregnant. He advised me, given my history, to see a genetic specialist if and when I got pregnant again.  I finally gave in and went back to work.  I wasn’t happy; it just kept me busy.   

The day came; a spark of hope, my period was late.  I took a test, and, yes, I was pregnant.  I made an appointment with the genetic specialist.  By the time I saw him I was 3 months, further along than the last two times. He asked me a long list of questions, ordered my son’s records to be sent to him and I made another appointment to see him.  At my next appointment he told me what my chances were on the possibility of something being wrong with this child. He advised me of the tests I could undergo to find out if there was something wrong.  He described amniocenteses, where he would draw out some amino fluid from the sac, send it out to be tested, and I would get the results back when I was 5 months along. He then asked me point blank what I would do with this knowledge.  If it came back that something was wrong, would I be able to end this pregnancy?  I felt confronted, challenged, betrayed. I had naively thought I went to this doctor for the well being of my unborn child, and he was opting abortion as a solution for a problem.  I went home upset.  My husband and I discussed the matter.  My husband, the ever rational, thought if the tests came back with something wrong, then we should end the pregnancy.  He cited financial expense, but I knew it was the emotional expense of another ordeal.  I didn’t know what I’d do.  Though I loved my son, I didn’t want to go through it again. And then the thought of a late term abortion, no, I couldn’t do that either. I cried, prayed, and cried some more.  I prayed, “Oh God, I can’t do this, you make the choice. Please, make the choice for me.“ The cramps started the next day and lasted long into the early morning.  The miscarriage wasn’t like the others. This one was like labor, and when the fetus passed, it looked like a very small, tiny infant.  I placed it in a plastic cup to be taken to the genetic specialist for examination.  I felt defeated, desolate, and hopeless.  

I went back to work.  I tried to move on, but my heart was breaking.  My husband slept peaceful, but I couldn’t.  I sat up on the couch crying, pleading, praying, “God, what’s wrong with me?  I’m so sorry, please, can’t I have a child, even if there’s something wrong it. God, I’ll take ‘em , love ’em, please.”  There came a silent peace over me.

When my period was again missed, this time I didn’t rush out to get a test.  I was two full months before I made an appointment to be seen by a doctor and only then because of the severe morning sickness.  I had made up my mind; I wouldn’t be seeing any genetic specialist.  I would take and love the gift I was given, as is. Even though I wanted this child very much, the gloom of the past years was with me.  I kept anticipating a miscarriage. There was this ever present dread. Seriously, I was in full term labor still feeling like “I can’t do this,” when the doctor said, “Push, now.”  I heard her cry for the first time. The doctors made their examination and proclaimed her healthy, but it wasn’t until I held her and made my own examination—healthy, pink, and beautiful—that hope began to rise in my heart. 

Wouldn’t it be nice and I wish I could say that everything was fine after my daughter was born.  She was, I wasn’t. Physically I was fine; emotionally, spiritually, I was a wreck. I still carried some beliefs about me, and about God. I needed to learn to trust again. I needed to believe that God loved me, that He was for me and not against me, that bad things were not my destiny. What I needed most was to really know God, not my idea of God, but Him personally.  In October of that same year, when my daughter was 5 months old, I knelt down beside my bed and asked the Lord into my heart. I can’t say with all honesty that when I got off my knees there was a miraculous change, but it was the start of the process of healing.  

My husband and I are still married, and we have been blessed with three more healthy children (that’s 8 total between heaven and earth).  I look back on this time and while some may call their waiting rooms a place of promise, while I was in it, it was a place of great pain. It is only in hindsight that I see the promise—the hope.  I have no regrets, no accusations, no blame, just a great sense of a beautiful, costly gift been given. Though it changed me forever, if given the choice I would change nothing. Where my heart was once filled with darkness and death, there is the preciousness of how fragile  life can be, and yet there is love, an overflowing, over whelming , over taking love. One day I will see my son again, and he can introduce me to his siblings, the ones I’ve never met.  

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{The name was changed to preserve anonymity. This story was shared with permission.}

Between yesterday and today, I am feeling a little wrecked. God is changing my heart and my way of seeing. Grace is infinitely possible. I don't understand it. I am feeling that broken-but-somehow-full thing I talked about when I asked for your stories, I guess I just didn't fully anticipate what that would feel like.  I would love to hear from you in the comments. I bet Patricia would as well. :)

As a reminder, This is someone's personal story. Please be sensitive in your comments. I want this to be a safe place and an encouraging place. Also know that when you put yourself out there by telling your story, you want to know that you are okay, that your story was heard. Perhaps at least leave my friend a simple "thank you for sharing" type response if the story touches you? If you or someone you know is facing this kind of devastating grief, we'd love to pray. Just leave a comment or send me an email.

Should you want to share your story, it's not too late, send it here: conqueringhousewife{at}the-cadence{dot}com or click here to email me right now. Read this post to hear my heart behind sharing your stories.

If you want to read about what God does when we are waiting, click the "Waiting Room" Graphic in the sidebar or click Sept 2012 in the archives on the sidebar (pretty much all of September was dedicated to waiting). 

By Grace,

Amanda

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