Month: December 2022

Last year for Rosie’s birthday, she got tickets to a UNC basketball game. If you aren’t from North Carolina, know this: while the NBA and the NFL are awesome, we do not have many professional teams here in the state. We have the Charlotte Hornets (who are never awesome), the Carolina Hurricanes (Uncle Steve loves hockey, but not most people). Baseball? Nothing.

But we DO have this: the ACC was created at Sedgefield country club in the 1950s, about 20 minutes down the road from our house. The ACC is big here- and we love our college sports, namely, what the ACC is traditionally best at: basketball.

So we love college basketball in this area. And I love UNC. And Taylor feels the exact opposite of “love” towards my favorite guys in baby blue. So I thought it was important to take Rosie to a game last year- and we watching UNC play against the Syracuse Orange last year- one of the first ACC games of the season, as a special birthday gift. It was so much fun, we did it again this year- and brought a friend- it was so much fun.

Chapel Hill is about an hour away (if you add parking which was a nightmare, add another 20-30 minutes if you don’t know what you are doing, like me).

This year was a little different though: let’s be honest, the gift wasn’t for Rosie, it was for me. So the gift wasn’t packaged as a “birthday” gift this year. But it was so much fun, we will have to continue.

And of all odds, who was sitting directly in front of Rosie? Taylor’s uncle Ken! His first game in 15 years, and just happened to be right in front of us.

The game itself was awesome. They played the Citadel, and there is a tradition at UNC games: If they score 100 points, you get a free sausage biscuit at Bojangles the next day. Inflation is real everybody, so these days, instead of a free biscuit, you get 2 for $1. And, the scrubs came in with almost 2 minutes left, nailed a few threes, and reached 100 points at the buzzer. It was so much fun. Here is a clip, right after that moment:

Running balls

The same week as the game, we did the “running of the balls” 5k in the neighborhood next to ours.

You may or may not be familiar with the “Christmas Balls”. It was on one of the national news morning shows, maybe the Today show, a few years ago, but the neighborhood next door to us has a tradition of putting these lighted balls up in the massive trees in their neighborhood, and it is something that has become “very Greensboro” over the years.

For about 12 years now, they have also done the “running of the balls” through the neighborhood: a 5-ish k race. What does that mean? It means that the purpose of the race isn’t time, it is fun, and to help those less fortunate during this season.

So we did it this year, with our good friend Anna, who Taylor and I knew back in our Harrisonburg, Virginia years.

Making Balls

When I was a kid, mom would make a bunch of things, and give them to our neighbors. Mostly it was food, though I can’t remember exactly what it was. Sometimes it might have been art-related, or a craft, I can’t exactly recall.

But I do recall that it was terrible, from my 7 year old perspective. The reason it was terrible was because it was often cold, and mom would wait in the car, and make poor, polite me go up and knock on the door of these seemingly random people that I didn’t know, and try and make pleasant conversations with the “little old ladies” all around the country club neighborhood we lived next to.

So of course, I want to do this tradition with my own kids.

This year was the 11th annual making of the (peanut butter) balls.

In the early years, we messed up a lot. My balls were a disaster- melting chocolate, is really challenging. You cannot add water to thin it out. You cannot add oil to thin it out.

Years ago we decided to do peanut butter balls because we thought we had far too many cookies and brownies, and wanted something different. We both liked peanut butter balls, so a tradition was born.

So far, I think it is going well: I wonder if Rosie will have good memories about this when she gets older? Stay tuned.

This story has been shared, but with Rosie’s birthday coming up this week, it is a story worth remembering and I hope this can help speak to others going through infertility issues, or issues with their faith, as well.

Taylor and I were living in Harrisonburg, VA at the time. We lived in 3 places over 4 years- so I cannot recall if we were living in the basement apartment, in the townhouse, or the small house that was built in 1923.

Regardless, we had been married a few years and decided that it was time to have a child. Except it didn’t work that easily. In sex-ed in middle school, they used some pretty intense scare tactics to leave me with the impression that if I so much as thought about sex, a girl would get pregnant.

But that didnt happen with us. As months passed, things got worse. This beautiful, amazing person I longed to be married with- we were now at odds with each other. We fought. Things were tense.

I prayed. I prayed hard during this time. I can remember one time going out- just getting out of the house to escape for a minute, and I tool the dog with me to the nearest national park, about 40 minutes away. It was raining a little, which was preferred- that way I can walk and pray aloud, without seeming too crazy. So I took full advantage of that. After months of trying, and failing, to conceive, I was angry. So I yelled. I questioned God. Where was He? Did He care? Why wasn’t this coming together, and why was He silent? Often, I can hear a word from the Lord- or a friend can share some encouragement, or Taylor has some wisdom to share. But this time was different- there was radio silence, and just a blackness of lonliness.

“Psalm 37:4”.

That’s it. After months of silence, those were the words I heard, while out on that rainy day. Why that verse? I don’t even know that verse, why is that the one that breaks this silence? I rushed home to see what that verse said.

Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

Psalm 37:4

That verse doesnt mean anything in this context. How is that supposed to apply to this very painful situation? I was disappointed- and felt I deserved better than that.

But it was the Lord that told me this (words I use VERY sparingly). So, I was going to do it- and focus my JOY as it comes from the Lord. To me, this meant really reading the Bible, some commentaries, and diving into prayer. This meant being vulnerable. This meant going out of my comfort zone. To this point, “Joy” never really came from the Lord in my life. What did that even look like? What did that mean?

During this time, we had some friends from the church that we went to. They also had some fertility issues that they worked through. Since I didn’t contact them to see if I could use their names, let’s call them Ashley and Jason. They shared their diet tricks to help, which was simply a paleo diet. Since we didn’t have the money to do what the doctor recommended, which was IVF, this was our only option.

What was actually wrong?

That is a good question. It is hard to know what this kind of pain is like for other couples, but for us, it seemed like a saving grace that the issues were on both sides. I won’t go into many details (also I don’t remember too many details), but there were hormone issues for Taylor and for me.

There were steps we could take that were less invasive, and less expensive, than IVF, so we went that route as well. Again, I won’t share details, but if you are curious, you can google it, and you will likely find some details and put 2 and 2 together.

What about prayer?

Christmas came and went. It was painful. It seemed daily we were getting new-baby announcements in the mail. And worse, people asking Taylor to plan baby showers. Over, and over, and over again. “What about prayer?” was the question I asked. Where was the Lord, when Taylor was experiencing such emotional pain, that I couldn’t fix? Sure, we were happy for each of our friends becoming parents for the first time, but the pain is sharp.

The church that we attended at the time was called Grace Covenant Church. Remember above where I mentioned “getting out of my comfort zone”? This church did a great job of that- it pushed me out of my comfort zone, and kept drawing me back for more. It was hard to explain, but the presence of the Lord was there, and Taylor and I loved calling that place home during that period of our lives.

We prayed, but we didn’t try healing prayer. And in February, our church did a healing prayer night. Taylor asked if I wanted to go, and I quickly said no. No way. Absolutely not. I was not broken, and that was weird. It was out of my comfort zone. Looking back, I think it was just hard to admit to others, and myself, that I did have some broken parts.

So we ended up going. The sanctuary was not brightly lit that evening. There were a few people up at the front of the aisles, and people were lined up to be prayed for. There were a LOT of people lined up for prayer, and chances are, they needed prayer more than I did. Taylor and I took a seat. God doesn’t stay silent forever.

We prayed. I prayed. I don’t know what was going on with Taylor at the time. But I was praying, and crying. And I was still a bit angry, and sad the the God I spent time with in the morning, was so absent and silent.

“God, where are you? Why can’t we have this child we so desperately long for?”

This time, there was an answer. This time, the silence was broken. This time, with head bowed in prayer, the sanctuary disappeared, and clear as day, there was a picture of a child- a newborn, wrapped in a blanket, and being held. Then, an image of a toddler- playing, smiling, parents so close. Then, a teenager.

Then, a voice:

“What is it that you want?” The words were clear- so much that it seemed startling Taylor couldn’t hear them. The tears were flowing at this point.

“I want a child Lord. Please, please, we want this baby.” Anger melted, and became nothing.

“If I give you a child, will you raise it to follow me?” This was more than a question, this was a charge: a command to follow. Parents take a lot of responsibilities when raising a child, and this is not something I wanted to take on lightly.

“Yes Lord”. Yes. Yes, we will raise this child- the one that is so longed for- we will raise this child to know the Lord.

“You will have a child in November.” And the words- everything to my bones, melted. The pain- the months and months, years and years of silence. My life? My plans? My strengths? They are nothing. I am pathetic, without this peace, without this presence, without this moment.

Tears were flowing. I was trying, and failing, at being discrete in these moments. People were still lining up for prayer. We were still sitting in the 5th row of chairs. How much time passed? I had no idea. What just happened? What happens next?

“Tay, we can go now, we have been healed.” Those seemed like the right words to say.

“What do you mean? We haven’t even been through the line yet?” She saw my tears.

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

Confused, we drove through the darkness, the 10 minute drive home. Using the words “God told me” sets a dangerous precedent. Those words carry weight, and cannot be used lightly. And we hadn’t been married for too long at that point. Should I really use those words? Did God really say something.

Yes. And Yes.

“Taylor, we will have a baby by November.” She was elated, and rightfully nervous. I explained everything else, and we both cried.

The story didn’t quite end there. Remember the serious nature of those words? A few weeks later, we found out again that she wasn’t pregnant. Again, there was doubt and confusion. Did I lie to her? No, I couldn’t have made that up.

The following month, at the checkup with her doctor, everything checked out. The due date? Nov. 27th.

Because we were still on such a strict paleo diet (no carbs, dairy, or sugar), this was how my bride shared the big news:

I don’t deserve her 🙂