Faith's Findings

It’s Christmas night.  The magic of Christmas Eve has past. The wrapping paper in the trash. New toys and gadgets are scattered. The kids fast asleep from a busy, fun filled few days. My husband asleep holding our youngest baby.  And me—well I’m awake not because I’m not exhausted, but because I just need a moment.  The glow of the tree still lights the room. And I find that I consistently dread December 26. I’ve always hated December 26 because that meant Christmas was over. And there are 363 days until it’s back (because Christmas Eve is my favorite).  I love Christmas. I always have. And I pray that I always will. Now, that I have kids I love it on a whole other level. My inner child comes out more and I try to make special memories for my family, especially my kids.  “Memories not things.” I remind myself.  There is a magic in the air at Christmas and I can’t deny it. I want to keep it alive for my kids all year round. Kind of how I tell them every year tha

"Disney+ on the TV—The kids’ giggles in the living room—I’m working on my Thanksgiving dishes for tomorrow, and my sweet hubby will be on his way home from work shortly—the scene used to be one that was just a far off dream I had in my heart. And now, it’s a beautiful reality. It’s my beautiful reality. I am overwhelmed with gratitude and awe at just how good God is. #thankful #blessed #littlethings #tuppertales" I posted the above as a quick snapshot to document a moment and emotion last night. The kitchen was a mess and the noise was constant, but I couldn’t help my gratitude that this was exactly what I’ve prayed for for years.  Husband. Kids. Baking. Cooking. Disney on a loop. Christmas lights. I mean, it really couldn’t get more perfect. It is exactly what my heart has desired for so many long years.  Is it perfect? No.  Would I change it? No. It is beautiful.  My older kids and I saw Frozen 2 this week. Y’all. Disney has done it again. I do

This post is different. This post is a collection of thoughts and feelings since Libby was born. So, it has been written over the span of 8 months. The fourth trimester.  “It’s for true,” in the words of my 6 (now 7) year old.  This post has been a journal of entries in the notes app on my phone. It’s not always pretty.  It’s not all sweet baby smells and snuggles.  And it’s certainly not always talked about. In fact, I had never heard of it until I lived it.  We should be talking about it.  In the days following Libby’s birth, I fully expected myself to bounce back. It took me more than a week to let it sink in that I needed to recover. I had had major surgery. I had been cut wide open and life pulled from within me. And literally a part of my body was now existing—breathing—on the outside.  Truth is, I needed to let other people help and rest. I needed to heal. But, I would get frustrated from the pain or that I couldn’t do like I once did.  In my

It has taken me almost two months to be able to really pen this down—partly because I’ve been taking care of a newborn and partly because it’s emotional. After I’ve been able to process it, I still find myself in tears. I’m emotional and thankful and hormonal. So, while this may not be the best post and it’s long, it is documenting one of the scariest and most beautiful times in my life.  Sunday, February 17, 2019 I woke up just like any other Sunday, except I wasn’t 100%. I had Jimmie check my blood pressure and while it was a little high, it was not over the numbers our doctor gave us.  “Anything over 160/100, then you need to come in!” Got up. Got dressed. Went to church. Had lunch. Came home and everyone took a nap, mainly because I just didn’t feel good. I couldn’t tell anyone what was wrong, but just that I didn’t feel good. Something was off, but I just didn’t know what.  Around 4, I had Jimmie check my blood pressure again.  It was consistently above

I started this entry in late January. As with a lot of my posts, I was letting it sit for a while before coming back to it. So here I am, coming back to it after Libby was born and it’s taken a whole other journey on its own. However, I think it’s perfect and leads into my next post that’s been sitting and still being written.  I once joked about going for a monthly massage at my chiropractor, saying that I was paying for my monthly dose of physical touch. There was a time in my life where I would go days or weeks without touching another human. Isn’t that bizarre?  It’s especially bizarre to me now because I can’t go five minutes without being touched.  But see, these pictures are precious to me. These moments, I truly do cherish them.  My time with Gracee and Titus started years after their birth, so in some ways we are all playing catch up.  In God’s goodness, He gave us each other in His time. And in a way that can only be attributed to Him