I’ve had all these things in my head for the last two weeks, but haven’t been able to figure out how to write it all out. Of course being doped up on Benadryl and Zyrtec all weekend probably didn’t help matters.

Anyway, I’m just going to type it all out on the computer and resist my urge to delete the entire thing for fear that it will only make sense to me and the rest of you will read it while shaking your head and thinking “What?”.

A couple of weeks ago, I watched Steven Curtis Chapman and his family being interviewed on “Good Morning America” and “Larry King Live”.

Honestly, part of me didn’t want to watch because the whole story has just broken my heart. The tragic death of a five-year-old girl hits really close to home when you’re the mother of a five-year-old girl.

But I watched anyway.

One thing that came up in both interviews that brought tears to my eyes each time I heard it was when Steven Curtis Chapman said someone later told him that as he was being driven away in the car to get to the hospital where his daughter had just been Life-flighted he rolled down the window and yelled to his devastated son, “Will Franklin! Your father loves you!”

I cried because it is such an incredible picture of how much a parent loves a child. That even in the midst of all that tragedy, he made sure his son knew that he was loved.

But even more than that, I cried because, for the first time, I realized that is how God loves me. How many times have I been crushed by my fears, my failures, my disappointments? How many times have I doubted, questioned, and wondered why things aren’t working out the way I want them to?

He whispered to my heart and let me know that in all those times, when I have been at my lowest points and at my highest points, He has looked at me and said, “Melanie! Your father loves you!”

This shouldn’t be a new revelation to me. But it was.

When I think back to my childhood, I don’t remember hearing much about God’s grace. I’m not saying it wasn’t being taught, it just never really sunk in. Maybe I heard one too many flannel-board Sunday school stories about Sodom and Gomorrah.

Whatever the case, I have struggled with grasping God’s mercy and grace. I struggle with how He can love me so much when I so often feel like I’ve failed. And at the heart of that is a trust issue. Do I trust that His love is stronger than my failures? Can His grace cover my flaws? Do I trust that He wants to pour out blessings on me that I don’t deserve, but He gives them anyway because that’s how much He loves me?

Two days after I watched the Chapman interview, I went in Borders to buy a new book for our beach trip. I looked around and had a couple of different choices in my hand, but then I saw “The Shack” on a display shelf. I knew it was the book I was supposed to buy.

I’d heard great things about it, but had purposely not read it because I knew the story begins with a tragedy involving a young girl. I just didn’t know if I could stand to read it.

I mean, I am the same person who spent the first six months of her daughter’s life watching only two things, “I Love the 70’s” on Vh-1 and “Little Women”. It was all my raw heart could bear.

So I put down my copy of “Such a Pretty Fat” by Jen Lancaster (which I still really want to read by the way) and bought “The Shack”.

It was the right choice. I couldn’t put it down.

At one point early on in the book, the main character experiences his first real encounter with God. And at that moment God picks him up, spins him around like a little child while shouting his name “Mackenzie Allen Phillips!”.

Tears.

After I read it I couldn’t get the image out of my head that God sees me that way, that He feels that way about me. That I am His child and He longs to hold me close the same way I long to hold Caroline close and cherish every single ounce of her, but even more so.

I’ve read Psalm 139 countless times. I know He knows my thoughts, I know He knows my words before they are on my tongue, I know He knows the numbers of hairs on my head (not as high a number as it used to be), and I know His thoughts of me outnumber the grains of sand.

I know it because I’ve heard it all my life. But I felt like in the days following the Chapman interview and reading “The Shack”, He began to really reveal to me the depths of His love for me. Not for all mankind, not for every creation, but, specifically, for me.

At church the following Sunday, I was standing during praise and worship and I felt God say to me, “I know your name. I know everything about you and I adore you. No matter what.” It’s like I could hear Him saying my name. My full name, over and over again.

Just as I was feeling that in my heart, our pastor began to speak. Guess what he said? “God knows your name. He knows everything about you.” And as he spoke those words, the worship team began to lead us in a song I’d never heard before

He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
And hears me when I call

Is it just me or do you think God is trying to tell me something? His love for the world isn’t general. It’s not an all-encompassing “I love my creation” thing. It’s specific.

Specifically for me. Specifically for you.

In spite of who we are, in spite of how we fail, in spite of all our weaknesses.

Because, here’s the thing. He made us. He knows us. None of our shortcomings and moral failures surprise Him. God doesn’t sit in heaven saying, “Wow. I did not see that coming.”

He sits in heaven, with a deep longing to take us in His arms, spin us around and say “Melanie! Your Father loves you!”

Except He would call you by your name, not mine. Because He’s God.

And He knows your name.

“See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.” Isaiah 49:16

On Saturday morning I had my first (last? only?) speaking engagement as Big Mama. I don’t remember much of what I said but I do know that I didn’t throw up, so that’s a plus.

Because about five minutes before I was supposed to get up and speak I felt like I might be sick.

And the fact that I was wearing a wireless mic with an earpiece thing didn’t really help matters because it made me feel like I might be required to break into some sort of choreographed dance number a la Justin Timberlake.

Except I can’t sing and I have little to no rhythm.

I started off by talking a little bit about the blog. How I got started, how I got the name Big Mama, and how it’s become this really cool thing in my life over the last two years. Of course halfway through talking about it I realized I needed to clarify that when I talked about Big Mama I was referring to this site, as opposed to myself in the third person.

And then in my head I became mortified that for a good fifteen minutes everyone in that room may have thought I actually had been talking about myself in the third person.

Big Mama says say no to drugs.

Big Mama says get yourself a new swimsuit.

Big Mama says I enjoy the occasional snack cake.

Oh sweet mercy.

Anyway, in the weeks leading up to this event, I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what I was supposed to say. Should I talk about the blog? Or about blogging? Or about how I am compulsive and obsessive? Or take an audience poll about the length of my hair?

Then on Wednesday morning I was out walking the dogs and it hit me. I knew I was supposed to talk about the Snoodle Doo.

Oh Lord. Don’t make me get up in front of a bunch of women and talk about the Snoodle Doo.

The Snoodle Doo is an episode of Veggie Tales. Y’all may remember that I am not necessarily a Veggie Tales fan. I have issues because despite their lack of hands and feet, they have the incredible ability to wield a sword and well, walk. But about three weeks ago, Caroline was watching Veggie Tales and it was the episode about the Snoodle Doo. And it spoke to me so deeply that I started to cry.

The veggies made me cry.

Yes, the tears may have been partially caused by my ongoing hormonal imbalance, but it went deeper than that.

The story of the Snoodle Doo is about finding out who you are and who God created you to be. It’s about letting go of all the false, hurtful things people have said to you and about you. It’s about seeing yourself through God’s eyes.

We see the Snoodle Doo get so weighted down by everyone’s perception of him, but then he finds his creator who draws him a picture of who he really is, who he was created to be. The Snoodle Doo says, “Is that me? I want to believe it but I’m afraid to.”

The creator replies, “I know who you are, I made you. I’ve seen you fall down in the mud and the goo, I’ve seen all you have done and all you will do; I gave you your pack, your paints and your wings. I chose them for you; they’re your special things.”

And it was at that point that I got a little teary.

I spent so many years letting my past dictate who I thought I was. Every mistake I made and every bad decision defined me. I didn’t feel like I deserved anything good. I felt like He had saved me and that was enough.

I was afraid to tell anyone my hopes and dreams because I thought they were out of reach. I didn’t think I had any real talents or abilities and, even if I did, I didn’t know what they were or how they could be used.

I was going to spend my life being a less than mediocre pharmaceutical drug rep and hopefully at least an average wife and mother.

But He had and has so much more in store.

Psalm 139 says that we are wonderfully and fearfully made. Psalm 17:8 says we are the apple of His eye. Psalm 18:19 says He rescued me because He delights in me. Isaiah 49:16 says He has engraved me on the palms of His hands. Zephaniah 13:17 says He takes great delight in me. He will quiet me with his love and rejoice over me with singing.

That is some serious love. That is a God that wants to give us hope and a future. That is a God who sees us as His masterpiece.

He made each one of us with specific plans and purposes in mind. He gave us talents, gifts and abilities that are unique to us. It’s our job to find out what those are and use them.

When I keep my eyes on Him and His vision of me, I know what it is to soar.

And I like it.

I can always tell when I have a lot on my mind because, well, it’s my mind and I am well aware of all that is in there and, also, all that is not in there. Plus, I start to draw a blank when I try to write a post about random things and so I end up putting up a picture of Dreyer’s ice cream.

It’s that feeling of knowing I have something to say, but not knowing how to say it or how to start. So, instead, LOOK! ICE CREAM! PEANUT BUTTER AND CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM!

Since I wrote about letting go of my fears a few weeks ago, I’ve thought more about it. To be honest, there have been many times in the last month when I’ve felt fear and worry well up in me again. And I don’t really talk about it because it’s not fun to talk about. I’d rather think about cute shoes, my hair, and that everything is 40% off at Gap right now.

The important things.

I have just felt like I need to clarify that I haven’t arrived at some incredible destination of perfect peace and tranquility. It’s a daily dependence on God. Trusting and knowing that He can meet all my needs and that He has a great plan for my life.

I know it, yet I’m quick to fall into my old patterns and forget it.

I’ve thought so much about Paul’s words in Phillipians when he says, “Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me”.

I’m quick to get bogged down in the what ifs. I’m quick to worry and fret over things that are ultimately out of my control anyway. I’m quick to try to come up with my own solutions and totally discount His sovereignty in all situations.

I worry if I’ll regret not having another baby. I wonder if I should have another baby. I worry if Caroline will grow up to be happy and normal without a sibling. Who will she look at and roll her eyes with when she’s a teenager and I say embarrassing things? Which is inevitable, by the way.

I worry about our finances and if we’re going to owe money to the IRS this year. I worry that we’re not saving enough for the future. I worry that our property taxes are going to go through the roof now that our neighbors have built the Taj Mahal next door to us.

I worry about P and I flying to Florida in May and what if something happens. I worry about Caroline and if I’m raising her to the best of my ability. I have days where my patience reaches its limit and I forget that she’s just four. And then I feel guilty.

And then I worry about feeling guilty.

I worry because I’m speaking to a group of women in a few weeks and I don’t know if I’ll have anything to say beyond “Hey y’all. What’s up?” I’m speaking to another group of women in June and hope I say more than “Blogging is good”. What if I fail? What if I screw it all up? What if I’ve heard God wrong?

So, basically, there are days when I’m a big, hot mess.

That is a lot of information right there. I feel a little like that episode of “Seinfeld” where George bares his soul to Jerry and then says, “That is who I am and everything I am capable of.”

I guess my point is that I don’t have it all together and I have days that just really stink. But I try not to focus on those things because, most of the time, I try to refrain from hosting my own party full of woe and pity. And I know that in spite of all these worries I manage to manufacture, I am blessed.

A few weeks ago, I sat across the room from our former housekeeper, Cata. She is sixty-seven years old and has cleaned houses for most of her life. About a month ago, she and her husband lost their home and much of what they owned in a house fire. They have no insurance. Yet, I sat there and listened to Cata tell me in her broken English how blessed she felt and how God has been faithful to provide help throughout her entire ordeal. She looked at me with joy in her eyes and said, “Melanie, God is not old. He is still working.”

How much do I love that she said “God is not old”? It totally makes me think of when God asks Moses, “Is the Lord’s arm too short?” (Numbers 11:23)

God is not too old and His arm is not too short.

Everything you read here is a snapshot of my life. The days of monogrammed dresses and Easter baskets come once a year and make good pictures, but sometimes the reality is a lot messier.

I’ve been in a season of life where I start to feel easily overwhelmed. Doors have opened and I can see things on the horizon, but I’m not there yet and I get frustrated. And I start to doubt if any of it will ever really happen.

And then, of course, I worry about what it will mean if it does all happen. Because I am a fan of coming up with the worry material.

In fact, a few weeks ago I received an email with some really cool news and I called Gulley to tell her about it. She was so excited for me and there may have even been some jumping up and down. Meanwhile, I was all like “Well, we’ll see what happens.” She said, “What is wrong with you? Get excited, Coach Fran!”

The day before yesterday I got on my knees and prayed about all my fears, doubts, worries. Why don’t I trust God the way I should? Why do I go back to that place of relying on my own power? Why do I let the fear overtake me? When will I be the person I wish I could be?

I didn’t get an answer.

But then yesterday morning, I walked my dogs down to an empty field by our house to let them run. I stood there watching them and noticed one lone bluebonnet sprouting up in the middle of the field. I know from past years that in another week, the entire field will be covered in bluebonnets. But, for now, there is just that one.

And I felt God say to me in the still, small place in my heart, “My girl, that’s how it is sometimes. After a long winter, spring doesn’t always happen all at once. It happens one flower at a time. I make all things beautiful, one flower at a time.”

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” Ecclesiastes 3:11

Many of y’all know Kelli’s story. She is in desperate need of a kidney transplant from a living donor. Her husband isn’t a match and her children aren’t old enough.

To read more about what it means to be a donor, read here.

So, it’s New Year’s Eve.

We’ve had an incredibly exciting day here. Really, I hesitate to share because I don’t want to create envy and bitterness over the fabulousness that is my life.

P has fever and hasn’t felt well all day. I spent the day setting up a new bed in Caroline’s room and cleaning out her closet. Caroline left to go out to eat Italian food with Mimi and Bops and then spend the night with them.

I’m so proud that our four year old is having a more exciting New Year’s Eve than her parents.

Of course I did go to Central Market and pick up some chicken noodle soup for P, so it’s not like my day has been completely without fun and adventure.

And now, we are sitting side by side on the couch in our flannel pjs watching the Chick-Fil-A Bowl. Dick Clark can only hope his New Year’s is this rockin’.

But, in all honesty, I couldn’t care less. I have had my share of festive New Year’s celebrations. Including one unfortunate year that involved me wearing red jeans, a sequined shirt and being overserved to the point of getting lost on my way back from the restroom at Chuy’s Mexican Restaurant.

I don’t know what’s saddest about that event, but I’m pretty sure it’s the red jeans. Although the sequined shirt is a close runner up.

There was also the New Year’s that P and I broke up because he wouldn’t come home from the ranch to celebrate a “fake holiday”. Gulley and I ended up spending that New Year’s together. We ate way too much at Carrabba’s and I think I had too much wine, which is my only excuse for how many times I belted out Faith Hill’s “It Matters To Me” because I felt like it best summed up my feelings about P’s New Year’s Eve apathy.

I bet Gulley doesn’t remember that year as her favorite New Year’s celebration.

But P shot a nice 10 pointer on New Year’s Day, which only served to confirm in his mind that he made the right choice.

And these days I tend to agree with him that big New Year’s celebrations are highly overrated. In fact, we received an invitation to an unbelievably fancy New Year’s Eve party this year. The invitation was hand-delivered. In a box. With a beaded chandelier inside the box. The attire was Couture/Black tie.

We turned it down. Because these days we prefer non-couture flannel. And watching bowl games. While taking lots of Sudafed.

But, because it is the end of another year, I have spent some time over the last few days thinking about 2007. I will now share those thoughts here because this is, after all, a record of my life. And while there are so many things I tell y’all on a daily basis, there are many that I don’t.

2007 has been a year of incredible transition. If someone had sat me down in January of 2007 and told me all the things this year would bring, I think I may have curled up in the fetal position and stayed there for the next twelve months. It’s been a year that has refined my faith in ways I didn’t even know it needed to be refined.

This year has been a 12 month process of God stripping away everything in which I’ve tried to find security. In January, I was faced with false allegations that made me fear I’d lose my job and just the thought of that possibility sent me into near hysteria (or if I’m being completely honest, full blown hysteria). The allegations were proven false, but then some other things happened along the way that led P and me to make the decision for me to resign in April.

The pharmaceutical job I’d held for ten years was gone. The income, the company car, the benefits were gone. But, I consoled myself with how well P’s business was doing and how much money we had in various accounts. We were totally fine.

And then P’s best employee ended up going to jail (it’s a long story), which slowed down the progress they were able to make on various jobs. Shortly thereafter, P’s back went out again and we knew he was going to need surgery.

Our new insurance didn’t want to pay on some of the claims which left us with medical bills higher than we expected, the brakes went out on P’s truck, we had to get some major dental work done, and finally, someone wanted to break out my car window right before Christmas.

We began to joke that we might as well just start flushing hundred dollar bills down the toilet because it was a more efficient way to drain our bank account.

The Bible study my group did in the fall was “A Woman’s Heart” by Beth Moore. In Week 2 of that study, Beth wrote, “Take the risk of inviting Him to do whatever He must to fan your flame again.” I knew as soon as I read it that God was calling me to take that risk. And I didn’t want to because I was scared.

But I did it. And y’all need to know that I did it with much fear and trembling. I had no idea what was going to happen but I knew that I had lost some of my passion for Him and I wanted it back. Ultimately, my need was stronger than my fear. Which means I had ALOT of need.

And that’s when the bottom fell out. But, honestly, it was almost comically apparent what God was trying to show me about myself. I have been so guilty in finding my security in the things this world offers. It’s not even that I love money so much or have to have it, I just like the security it offers. I felt like as long as our bank account had a certain balance then everything would be okay.

The irony is that “A Woman’s Heart” follows the Israelites as Moses leads them out of Egypt and to the Promised Land. I spent a lot of time being like the Israelites grumbling to myself, “I don’t know why God led me away from my job and all that security if He’s just going to hang us out to dry like this.”

But then God reminded me how He provided manna for the children of Israel every morning. He gave them what they needed for that day. Their security had to be in Him and in His provision. FOR THAT DAY. And that’s what He’s promised me, He will give us what we need for that day.

His provision doesn’t hinge on what the bank says we have or what the stock market does. He is over all those things and He is faithful and just to provide.

I’ve spent this year being refined in a way that I have never before been refined, but I can also say I have drawn closer to Him than I ever have before at any time in my life. When all the fears and worries begin to rise up, I’ve learned to run to Him instead of adding up bills in my head and trying to come up with my own solution.

At one point this month, after another setback had come in, I sat at the desk and started to cry. I opened my Bible and this is the passage I found:

“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.” Isaiah 42:16

And as I’ve prayed for 2008 and all that this new year holds, the verse that keeps coming back to me is:

“You will be blessed in the city and blessed in the country. The fruit of your womb will be blessed, and the crops of your land and the young of your livestock - the calves of your herds and the lambs of your flocks. Your basket and your kneading trough will be blessed. You will be blessed when you come in and blessed when you go out. The Lord will grant that the enemies who rise up against you will be defeated before you. They will come at you from one direction but flee from you in seven. The Lord will send a blessing on your barns and on everything you put your hand to. The Lord your God will bless you in the land he is giving you.” Deuteronomy 28: 3-8

2007 has been a year of God leading me into a new land. A year of me questioning what I believe and how much I believe it. A year of me learning that it’s okay to ask Him to help me overcome my unbelief. A year of me literally putting my money where my mouth is or more accurately where my heart is. A year of learning to trust in Him in ways that I have never trusted before. It has been a hard year and there are still struggles ahead, but I know that He that began a good work in me will carry it on to completion.

And as I completed my Bible study of Moses and the tabernacle, I learned something that I had never realized before. It’s something that really resonated with me. From the time Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt, through all the grumbling in the desert, through all the hardships, to the completion of the tabernacle, one year had passed. ONE YEAR. How is that even possible that all that happened in one year? As Beth says, “It had been the worst year of his life and the best year of his life.”

I feel you, Moses. I think that’s how I’ll remember 2007. The best and the worst. But I already know that, like Moses, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

I’m sorry this is so long. I knew it would be, but my heart was full of so much to say and I had to get it all out. If you’ve read this far, then God bless you for your patience.

I wish you all a Happy 2008 filled with all good things! My life is richer because y’all show up here every day.

Welcome to our world-nativity scene

I don’t know how much I’ll be posting over the next few days, but I had to share this.

If at any point, in the midst of all the cooking and last minute shopping and family stress, you forget why we are celebrating, watch this.

Hope y’all have a very blessed and Merry Christmas. I wish you all peace, love and joy.

I just heard from Kristie. The results of the MRI are in and they’re good. No fluid on the brain, no infection and no strokes.

They should be able to identify the bacteria by later today.

She said to thank all of you for your prayers over the last few days. God is good.

I’m going to share an excerpt from an email I received from Kristie a little while ago. It appears that Olivia is doing better and the doctors are encouraged by what they are seeing.

Gulley also talked to Kristie a little while ago and Kristie said the doctors believe that they have narrowed down the bacteria strain to one of two different strains and feel confident the antibiotics Olivia has been taking are the right ones for either of these strains.

Several of y’all have emailed and asked questions about bacterial meningitis and Antique Mommy suggested that it might be a good idea to give an overview of the early warning signs, especially since a lot of us are mamas with little ones. There is so much information out there, but this link is the most comprehensive and specifically covers the symptoms and signs.

And I know I keep saying this but, seriously, thank you for all the prayers.

- We believe the antibiotics she has been on are helping
- Her fever is starting to stay down
- She is less irritable (this is good, because her head hurts like the dickens)
- She did well with the MRI today and recovered from anesthsia well
- She is getting her appetite back

I’ll keep y’all updated if anything changes. But know that your prayers are being answered and God is faithful.

Many of y’all have emailed or commented asking about any update on Olivia. And again, let me say how awesome y’all are to embrace our friends with your prayers and concern. Seriously, I’m amazed and so blessed.

I talked to Kristie this morning and they are still looking for answers. The infectious disease specialist didn’t really have any answers. The biggest problem, from what I can understand, is the bacteria cultures keep mutating so every time they think they have maybe figured out the strain of bacteria, it changes.

They are hoping these mutations will stop by this evening because it will have been almost 72 hours since they did the initial draw. The good news is that in spite of their inability to identify the bacteria, they do believe that one of the antibiotics they are giving her is working somewhat.

Hopefully they will know more by this evening or the morning. I will definitely keep updating as I get news. Right now it’s just a long road with not a lot of answers.

It is bacterial meningitis. And it’s a rare form. The doctors aren’t sure how to treat it and don’t think that what they’ve been doing is working.

They are meeting with an infectious disease specialist in a little while who will hopefully have some answers.

Please pray for wisdom for the team of physicians, healing for Olivia, and peace for Kristie and George.