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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 🙂

Ian roared through last weekend. Fort Myers was obliterated, but that doesnt mean that storm ran out of energy by the time it got to our part of the state.

The weather report made it seem like it could have beena pretty bad situation- Rosie’s school was cancelled, and Mercy’s daycare was closed early at 12 as a precaution. The storm didnt gain strength until that later part of Friday, and through the hours before midnight. I’ll be honest- I’ve never heard winds like that in the three years we have been this house, and those 4 big oaks and a cypress in our front yard looked like they could become a liability.

So what did we do?

We invited our good friends the Peascoes over to watch Hocus Pocus! We had pizza (take and bake), I made my amazing popcorn, and the kids loved watching the new Disney release. Only the oldest kid (8 years old) seemed to be slightly concerned about the wind outside- and I admit, I was too.

The trees held up fine. The next day, there were hardly any trees down: and it looks like the street in front of us, and the street behind us lost their light, but we were ok.

There was a lot to clean up, and we aren’t done cleaning yet. I got 13 bags of leaves, and still haven’t touched the back yard yet (I’ll get that soon, I promise!)

Renos and sweet debuts

Have you ever lived through a big remodel? It seems tough- and add in some smaller kids, and a busy life, and then add in that the renovation is the most important room in the house (the kitchen), AND it is during the current supply chain crises- and this 7 month renovation is very close to being tied up in a bow and complete. To clarify, this isnt our house- but our good friends Chad and Rachel Lynam. It started with a few leaks from the bathroom AND the dishwasher, and after insurance, this beautiful kitchen got its debut. We were honored to be one of their first guests.

Though I didn’t get many good pics of the new kitchen, it was top-notch. The kids had a blast, the charcuterie was on-point, and this video captured the live-action entertainment pretty well.

And How Much?

Online grocery store is amazing. Rosie has long-since known which sweet brands to ask for when we go to the grocery store (Oreos, Lucky Charms, Skittles, etc). Mercy is getting there. And one of the things I hate the most about being a parent is saying “no”- so if we can just avoid situations where I have to say “no” a whole lot, I win, right?

The problem with buying things online is that it abstracts away the true cost of groceries.

After going in to the store, I did notice something. Look at that image above. Though the ice cream was amazing, the price?

$6.99

(It was buy-one get-one free). I think I remember Breyers being $3.80 or something?

AND, if that wasnt bad enough: look at the bottom left corner of that image. It is only 1.5 quarts: a half gallon of ice cream is no longer a half gallon of ice cream. It’s like someone took two scoops of my ice cream before I even got back to the house.

I didn’t say anything when inflation came for my cat food, because I dont have a cat. I didn’t say anything inflation came for new house prices, because I’m not buying a new house. But now inflation is coming for my ice cream, and that just makes me sad.

Our sweet girl turned two this weekend.

Taylor likes to make it fun for the girls when they wake up by decorating their rooms and surprising them- so here we are waking up the birthday girl on Saturday morning:

It was a team effort: though there aren’t any pictures of it, Ted helped out by bringing the food, and it was amazing. His barbecue, and ribs were up there with the best I ever had.

Taylor and I stumbled on a picture of Rosie having some breakfast from Biscuitville on her second birthday, so we got a sausage biscuit for Mercy to ring in her big day. Here they are side by side:

We did a few presents, and mostly just hung out and got ready for the party.

It was Rosie’s idea to have a birthday theme of “hAPPy Birthday!” to celebrate with an Appalachian State themed party. Though they lost the game, the party was a blast.

Everly came over a bit early to hang out. Though sometimes Mercy is a whining little kiddo, when she is with her big cuz, that all goes out the window and they have a blast together.

The whole night was a blast. The pictures tell the story best, so I’ll just leave a bunch of them here:

After the party, we cleaned up. It was a great success. We all got along, the kids behaved mostly awesome. We found some weird trash in weird places.

Then, we got to have a nice quiet dinner to round out the weekend:

The first year of our marriage, Taylor and I lived in a big college house in Virginia that was a mix of graduate students/young professionals. Taylor lived in the house the year before, and rent would be dirt-cheap (to match our income at the time), for the complete basement of the house- with its own kitchen, bath, etc.

Upstairs were 7 ladies during that year. Taylor has kept up with these ladies, and they called themselves and the house that they lived in “Big Love”.

They get together every year or so (not all of them every year, but close). This year, their destination of Cape Charles in Virginia, was not fully prepared in time. With friends coming from Texas, Washington DC, Atlanta, and elsewhere- Greensboro NC was the central location- so Taylor offered our house for the weekend (Her and I talked about it first).

The ladies had fun, and went to see the Broadway production of “Mean Girls” that was at the new performing arts center in town. One part of the movie is “on Wednesdays we wear pink”, so the group dressed accordingly:

And they were kind enough to leave one of Weezie Black’s cookies afterwards. It was unusually good:

My mom was gracious enough to take in me and the two girls while our house was filled with 9 ladies for the weekend. Here is a picture from Kirkwood park, when Rosie shouted out “Mercy is my Uber driver.” Her creativity cracks me up every single day.

It was fun- I didn’t get to take as many pictures as I would have wanted, but it was a fun weekend. We ate well, Mercy got her nap in, Rosie did her dance performance, and she made it to her sleepover on time. Cici and I did a great job balancing all of the things.

The weekend was fun, but it was good to get everyone back together again on Sunday afternoon, when Rosie got back from her sleepover.

In defense of the messy desk.

This is a new section- more of an opinion piece of something that has been on my mind; the only parameter for these opinion pieces is to not venture in the world of politics.

Where do you stand on the scale from 1 to 10, with 10 being “super clean” and 1 being “pretty filthy” for your desk?

I would put myself as a 6 or 7, depending on the day, and there are many reasons for this.

My job is to write computer code- I am a software engineer writing computer code- and there is a “creative” aspect to it. There are problems that the computer code needs to solve, and my desk is where that creative “magic” happens.

Growing up, I got to watch Cici be creative in her art- with a studio that turns out original art at a rate that would make your head spin. Her studio is her creative space, where she gets “in the zone” turning out beautiful, colorful pieces.

I too can be in such a rush to get “in the zone” that other things can be left incomplete. From the image above there is:

• Two coffee cups. Neither are from today.
• A water cup. Stay hydrated!
• Hair gel that never made its ways to the bathroom.
• Glasses I don’t wear while looking at a computer screen.
• My middle school yearbooks- which havent made it to a bookshelf yet.
• A black, computer backpack that needs to be put away.
• An old HP laptop that needs to be taken to our e-waste location.
• Two macbooks- as I switch between work and personal tasks.
• A green “Decoding the technical interview” book
• An unused computer dongle
• a “Port” that connects all of the things to the laptop

There is a lot going on in this picture. This is my captain’s chair throughout the day and I put my head down and love what I do. Its a bit messy- and a bit active. I think that is like a microcosm of our lives right now.

If you had to share, how would you rate your setup?

There is this pile of wood that has been sitting in the back of our yard since we moved in. One of our requests when buying the house was to remove this very large, dead tree that was in the back of our property, but the seller’s response was that the tree could be chopped up, but to have it removed would be an extra several thousand dollars.

So, we agreed, and this pile of wood was put in the back of our yard, hidden behind the garage, where it just sat.

There may be snakes in the pile, though I have never seen one. Rosie has been told just to avoid that corner of the yard, and she has.

It is hard to capture just how big this pile is- but there is a problem: I cannot remove it. I dont have a truck, and in order to rent a truck, it would take a whole day just to go back and forth to the dump- time I don’t have.

So, Taylor’s idea was to put an ad on the Nextdoor app. Post a few pictures of the wood, and offer $300 for anyone to come remove it.

The first person to respond was a nice man in his fifties who has done this kind of thing for a long time. He was very kind, and took a look at it and said:

No way. There is no way I can remove that wood for that price. Those larger logs on the bottom, I’ll need special equipment to move them”.

– Experienced handyman.

Ok, this wood was huge. It was an old oak tree that was 3 feet wide. So, I called the second guy who responded on Nextdoor: a “college kid” who “heard from his mom that there was wood that needed to be removed”. You can tell where this is going, right?

In my mind, this is a college kid just like me: a string bean. And if an experienced guy couldn’t do it, there was no way a “college kid” could. I posted extra pictures, with a cinder-block for scale, just to ensure he knew what he was getting into.

The guy shows up at 6:30 pm that same day, and I was laughing with Taylor all day thinking there was no way this guy could do it. He texts me and says he is here, and on my front porch is the strongest man I have ever seen. He was the hulk. And very, very polite.

I showed him the pile, and he said he could do it. He knew a place to dump some of it (his grandma’s house), and the rest he would split and use to heat his own mother’s house.

After 2 truckloads, I saw there was a third row of logs, and they were some monster pieces of wood, we felt bad about how much wood it actually was, and upped our price a bit.

Lumberjack Luke brought his wedge, axe, and sledge, and split all of that wood in our backyard. We were out of town in the mountains that weekend, but the security system was set, and so were the outside cameras. And when we returned, this is what we saw:

This is a small brag about Rosie.

Our afternoon routine usually involves Taylor picking up Rosie from “Kid’s ahead”, the after-school program Rosie LOVES, and picking up Mercy from Daycare (Usually I am able to drop off in the morning). When they get home, usually Mercy just immediately cries until she is fed (unfortunately, this has put us in the super-early dinner time pattern of eating around 5:15 or 5:30).

So, it works best if the girls play outside for a bit so that Mercy can be a bit entertained and distracted from her whining.

Rosie is just a gem. Mercy is almost 2, and I can count on one hand the number of times Rosie has complained about her little sister. Her patience and genuine joy when she plays with her little sister always blows me away.

I wish I could freeze these moments. It is something I don’t deserve.

On the opposite side of the workday, chatting with Rosie and meeting our neighbor on our walk to school, is also special every time. During this brief moment, I have no cell phone, no distractions, and Rosie just opens and shares about her day. I treasure that time.

App State

Also, Taylor and I got to watch APP State beat #6 Texas A&M this weekend. It was amazing, and the biggest win for App State since they beat Michigan 15 years ago. Rosie was out of town at a sleep over, and Mercy was asleep- so Taylor and I got to enjoy the game. It was so much fun, and I am thankful that Taylor and I both went to App State to have such fun together watching it.