Oops – looks like time got away from me and my poor little blog has sat lonely and stale for more than a month!

Fortunately, I’m moderately more nurturing to Weston than I am to my blog. (Or to my houseplants, which lost a very sad lottery when they landed in my home. I’m very good at noticing that my plants need water, but not so good at, you know… watering them.)

(My latest victim, in the midst of its suffering)

While neglecting my blog, my houseplants – and possibly Marley, just a little bit [guilty cringe] – we have been super busy. There are lots of changes on the horizon for our family which I can’t quite publicly divulge just yet… but suffice it to say, it’s been one blessing after another and I’m in awe of how God works.

We just returned from an action-packed, fun-filled weekend in Michigan visiting family (post coming soon) and while watching my Weston laugh and play with them, I remembered this feeling I had when he was still cookin’ sometime around mid-pregnancy.

Here’s the thing: my life is pretty awesome. It’s not because of anything I’ve done or planned – it’s in spite of me.

Somehow God planted this fantastic man in my life and talked him into marrying me. He perfectly orchestrated my life so that I ended up working for this great company, then magically opened up a position so I could live exactly where I wanted in a house that would’ve never been ours if it wasn’t for very serendipitous market timing and his blessings on our finances.

And finally, despite my apathy for ever having children, he saw what was best for me and created little Weston, knowing that having him would absolutely delight my soul and bring joy into my life I never imagined.

That’s a lot to ask for one life.

So while I was pregnant, I was pretty sure that I was “due” for something terrible to happen to me. I know this is ridiculous, but because everything seemed so perfect, I was pretty sure that we couldn’t possibly expect one more perfect thing, so I actually (shamefully) anticipated that God would withdraw his blessings and there would be something wrong with the baby.

(Yes, I realize this is stupid.)

When my little guy was born healthy and perfect – I was humbled. God hadn’t run out of blessings for me. He continued to heap them on beyond what I could handle and certainly beyond what I ever deserved or expected.

And that’s part of the reason why this little face overwhelms me so much. It’s a perfect representation of God’s blessings even in my doubt and distrust. It teaches me that He is so much bigger than my imperfections, that His blessings are independent of my faith and obedience.