Our First Two Years

The thick, fluffy blanket of snow outside reminds me of a certain day almost two years ago. Just such a snow had fallen and threatened to move our wedding from the planned location:
 This historic log church in Green Mountain Falls.

But our wedding day dawned crisp, clear and sunny. While many side roads were still impassible, we decided to go ahead and have our wedding at Church in the Wildwood. Aren't the beams and rafters in this place just beautiful?

Note: All photos by MIO Photography

I'll never forget the drive up the pass that morning. Snow sparkled against a backdrop of winter blue sky, dark red rock formations and stately evergreens. The beauty of the day took my breath away.
What a gift from our Creator!

A couple of hours later, I was married "before God and these witnesses" to the redneck in the camo vest here:

Steve's redneck-edness hasn't changed in the past two years.
In fact, he's become a huge fan of Duck Dynasty and always says, 
"I just wanna go work with those guys!" So it's no surprise that his newest hunting addiction involves ducks.

Anyway, I'm happy to report that the guy who swept me off my feet then still sweeps me off my feet today!

These first two years haven't been without their adjustments, arguments or times when I wanted to go hide in the other room. Poor Steve has gotten the silent treatment more than once, since he is much better at talking through problems, whereas I just want to keep my distance until I figure out what's at the root of it.

Sometimes that's nothing more than the fact that Steve won a number of games in a row and "gloated" about it (he'd say he "was just happy about it") and I'm still learning to take that well.

But Steve has been unendingly patient with me and taught me a lot about communication. (And here I'm the one with the communications degree. Just goes to show that a piece of paper doesn't mean you've mastered the subject--far from it!)

But regardless of the occasional bump in the road of this adventure called marriage, it's been a wonderful ride!
Steve is still the ruggedly handsome and hilarious man I married.

He still has great guy friends who've got his back. 

He still learns from other men and mentors younger ones, 

which makes me want to cheer.

 He still claims that I tried to shove wedding cake up his nose first . . . but look at the photo evidence!

 He's still family-oriented and makes time 

to visit our fun extended families.

 He still loves kiddos and will be a great daddy!

And he's held and comforted me through the loss of our first child to miscarriage this past week.

"Stuncle" still adores his nieces, whom I also adore! 
(Chammyleon, mannequin and kalockalockalocka, girls!)

Steve still makes me feel cherished, every single day.

He still makes me laugh, several times a day!
And he does that while working incredibly hard toward our future goals, mastering both full-time school and part-time work (as a Zamboni driver--how cool is that!). Speaking of school, I have to brag on my President's Honor Roll man!

He still looks at me like this . . . most of the time! 

(Maybe not when I tease him about chipmunks.)

So, after two years of marriage . . . I think I'll keep him.

Steve, thank you for being such an amazing husband . . . 
and my favorite redneck!

The Trouble with Grief

The trouble with grief is that you never know when it's going to hit. One minute you're doing OK. You're handling it. You might even feel a measure of joy or hope. And then you feel guilty for that good feeling, and the next minute you're struggling again.

On Friday, we found out that our baby (due in September) was no longer alive inside of me. Friday was pretty heart-wrenching.

Saturday morning, I had perspective. I knew our baby was safe and being well cared-for by our heavenly Father. I imagined our little one being held by friends and family who are already Home. I wrote a blog post (Tears in the Night) about what happened, a tear-filled post mingled with peace and even thankfulness.

The day went downhill a few hours later. Hurt and anger set in. I wanted to control something. And since I couldn't control what was happening in my body or emotions, I decided to control my surroundings. The house--which I'd done nothing to since I started bleeding on Weds--had to be picked up right away. I couldn't stand the clutter anymore. The dishes had to be washed, and my husband had to help me. Poor guy. He washed all the dishes and helped me straighten up, and he did his best not to take my frustration personally.

My kind mother-in-law made dinner for us that night, and it was both good and sad to spend time with Steve's parents. They are grieving the loss of their anticipated grandchild--the second grandbaby they've lost in the past year, and we hurt for them. We know my parents are sad over this, too, and we've received many supportive messages from our siblings, other relatives and friends.

Saturday night, Steve and I had a long time of talking, grieving and praying. We each shared some of the things we'd really looked forward to with this baby, things we're grieving the loss of now. Of course I'd looked forward to cradling our baby close in my arms, singing to him or her and inhaling the sweet scent of baby. Steve had begun to count down the months till he could take our baby fishing, the years till he could take our firstborn hunting. (Boy or girl, they would've been out in the woods together.)

Steve thanked God for the time we did have with our baby. That thought caught me by surprise. I was mourning the dates on the calendar that wouldn't happen--the 12-week ultrasound, the one where we'd find out if our baby was a boy or a girl, our due date and the day our baby actually arrived. My sister-in-law Sandy, who lost a baby last year, told me she often thinks of how old her baby would be now. No doubt we'll think of that on what might have been our baby's first birthday, etc. But Steve thanked God for the time we did have, and I suppose he is right.

When God created this little life, He knew its time on earth would be short. But He chose us as parents. We can ask, "Why us? We didn't ask for this pain." Or we can ask, "Why did He entrust us with this little life, for the short time we had?" Steve said he wants to remember the joy and excitement of the three weeks we knew about this baby, rather than the trauma of the past few days. Wise man, my husband.

On Saturday as the hurt and anger set in, I did say, "Why? We didn't ask for this." And I hurt a God-whisper: You didn't ask for my Son to die for you, either. True that.

I love this quote and have it above my desk at work:

Why does this keep happening to me?

It’s not fair.

I never asked to be treated this way.

I did nothing to deserve this.

And yet

Every moment of every day, completely unprovoked,

God pours out His love on me.

He blesses me in unexpected ways.

His mercies are new every morning.

No matter what I do I cannot stop Him.

Even in the worst situations His goodness prevails. He is relentless.

I am a victim of grace.

- From Victim of Grace by Robin Jones Gunn ©2013

My friend Ryan emailed last night to let us know that he and his wife want to offer their support. They've been through seven miscarriages. I can't even imagine that kind of hope and devastation, over and over again. Ryan said, "My only advice to you is to allow yourself to feel all of the different emotions you have. The anger, bitterness, so on. God can handle it. It is important for you to not hide from any of the pain. No bottling it up and no superficial religious junk."

Wise words, my friend. God can handle our grief, our pain, our anger, our hurt. Even anger at Him. The important thing is to rant and rave to His face, not behind His back. Although He understands that, too. Steve and I have both experienced deep grief before, and we've both gone through seasons of turning our back on God. Yet He drew us back, and we're so thankful.

Life sucks sometimes. Yet life is beautiful. Mixed in with my grief today is joy over my friend Kari's new baby boy and Denise's engagement. We look forward to welcoming John & Carrie's baby into the world pretty soon--a little miracle! And I can't wait for a certain children's book to arrive in the mail, so I can wrap our baby gifts for Paige and Kim's little boy who's due in April. Steve's brother and other close friends are expecting babies this year, too, one the day after ours was due. We look forward to meeting these precious children!

Grief and joy, all in one moment. Hurt and thankfulness, all in one heart. God sees. He cares. That's enough.

(And many thanks to everyone for the great support, kind messages, thoughts, prayers, meals and so on that you've given us. We feel very loved. And we ache for each of you who has shared a similar loss.)

Tears in the Night

On New Year's Day, we discovered some wonderful news: In September, our first baby would be born! (You can read about that exciting day here: Best New Year's Ever! or a letter to our expected baby here: Dear Baby Echols (First Seven Weeks)

A few days ago, I started bleeding and called our doctor's office around 9pm. The triage nurse told us to go to the E.R. immediately. That's where we discovered some scary news: Our baby's heart was beating much slower than it should be at 7 weeks, 5 days old. And a small part of the lining had begun to pull away from the wall of the uterus, threatening miscarriage. 

We learned these frightening facts from the E.R. doctor around 1:30am on Thursday morning. The doctor said there was nothing we had done to cause these complications and nothing we could do to stop them. The lining might very well reattach, but the baby's heartbeat needed to grow much stronger and faster.

I shed quite a few tears that night, and we spent quite a bit of time in prayer before, during and after the E.R. visit. Please, God, please help our baby live and grow strong and healthy.

I rested at home all day Thursday, and we made calls to our parents and small group for prayer support. We know God heard the many prayers for our baby, and we know He cared. Yet about 9 o'clock that night, I discovered that my bleeding had increased.

We went to bed with many prayers and tears, asking God to let us hold our baby in September, but placing our little one into His care and trusting Him to do what was best.

That night, we both dreamt about our baby. In Steve's dream, our baby was a boy making an awesome sound affect that Steve makes, one that our niece Daisy has tried dozens of times to imitate (with hilarious results)! In my dream, someone from heaven was telling me that our daughter was safe and happy there, and she knew how much we love her. Of course, we don't know our baby's gender, but the dreams ministered peace, joy and comfort to our hearts.

Before we had fallen asleep that night, we had both asked God to let our baby know how much we love him or her. I prayed that God would surround our baby with His presence and peace, and that our baby would not experience any trauma. I asked God that if He took our baby home to be with Him, He would place him or her in the arms of our dear friend Sara Emery, who went to Heaven unexpectedly a few months ago. Sara is so full of life and joy and affection, and I knew she'd love to meet our baby.

The next day (Friday), we went to our doctor's office for tests the E.R. had recommended to be taken two days later. Even though I had dreamed about our baby being in Heaven, we still held out hope that our baby was alive and well within my womb.

On Wednesday night / Thursday morning in the E.R., we had seen our tiny baby on ultrasound, and we watched its little heart flutter. But this time, the ultrasound couldn't find a heartbeat or even locate our baby. Heartbreaking! Hours later, lab work confirmed that my pregnancy hormone counts had dropped to less than half of what they were in the E.R., instead of doubling as they should have if I were still pregnant. Our baby was already with Jesus.

Needless to say, we cried. This is not what we wanted. Our baby is in a wonderful place, but we had hoped to hold him or her here on earth. We had hoped to enjoy watching our little one grow, laugh, learn and play.

Last night, I woke in tears. My tears really gushed when I realized I would never see my wonderful husband cradling our baby in his arms. He's so tender and good with babies. They notice him from across rooms and practically climb over their mamas to get his attention--when they don't even know him. Little ones who do know him love to be held by him, and they follow him around as soon as they can crawl or toddle. I was so excited to see our baby do that.

As I cried over the fact that Steve would never hold our little one, I asked God to not only give Sara a chance to hold our baby, but to also give a turn to my friend Heidi Peterson Brown, who went Home last January. And also to our baby's great-grandparents who've been gone a long time but would no doubt love to meet their great-grandchild.

And then I realized that our baby can already enjoy something I've longed to do many, many times. Our baby can be held close in the arms of our Abba Father, warm and safe in the Presence of the greatest Love in the universe. 

Why do I think God would take time to hold our baby? Because of how His Son welcomed little children to come to Him while He was on earth. Luke 18:15-17

Since God doesn't have limits on His time or on how much personal attention He can give His children, surely He will cherish holding our baby close. And surely He will rejoice over our baby's first smile--the smile I dreamt about sometime in the past two nights. I saw our baby smile right away, within minutes of delivery, and that must be because our baby woke up in the arms of our Father in heaven.

So we weep, but not without hope. We will get to meet our baby one day, and all these tears will be wiped away by the One who loved us enough to give His only Son for us. His sacrifice has a whole new meaning for us now that we've lost a child, and it's definitely more than we can fathom. Thank you, Abba Father.

Follow-up post: The Trouble with Grief

Dear Baby (First Seven Weeks)

Note: This is a letter I began writing to our baby a couple weeks ago, with plans to add to it and post the blog later.

Dear Baby Echols,

We found out about you just two weeks ago, but already we're so excited about you expanding our little family!

Today at the preschool where I volunteer on Wednesday mornings, dark-eyed Aryannah asked, "Do you have any children?"

I pointed to my belly. "I have one in here," I said. "You can't tell yet, but it'll be here in September. This will be our first baby."

"And then you'll be a grown-up!" Aryannah said.

* * *

A couple days ago while your daddy and I were making dinner, he told me he'd been making plans for a treehouse for our children. I know you're gonna love that!

* * *

When your Aunt Sandy found out that we were going to have a baby, she said, "I think Steve parenting a boy seems so natural. They will grow beards together and shoot things and ride into the mountains with two cars each. But I think that Steve would parent a little girl with such tenderness and fierce protectiveness. And of course they would shoot things and go hiking and camping. If it is a girl he will be such a softie!"


I have to agree. Whether you're a boy or a girl (or twins), Daddy is going to absolutely love spending time with you. He'll play with you and teach you all kinds of wonderful things! Already he's planning to take you fishing as soon as you're old enough to carry in the front of his waders (like bib overalls or a baby carrier).


And Mama Me-a will love to hold you and rock you and kiss your little face. She'll sing to you and teach you to love God and people and music and creation. And chocolate. We mustn't forget chocolate!

Best New Year's Ever!

At about 7pm on the last day of 2013, my hubby and I went out "to buy snacks" for New Year's Eve. We came back with popcorn, jalapeño chips and a little something that we kept hidden. I (barely) managed to stay awake till midnight, when we ran outside to watch the neighborhood fireworks. Brrrr! The night air quickly chilled us, so we did our best to keep each other warm while we wondered, What will the new year bring?

Less than 4 hours later, I woke up and went to another room to take a test. Steve was sleeping soundly (snoring loudly!) at the time, and I didn't want to wake him. So I lay awake for the next few hours . . . full of wonder, excitement and all kinds of sweet, tender feelings that don't normally follow test-taking. I thanked God for the results and prayed over the miracle taking place.

Shortly after I dozed off, Steve woke and gently nudged me. "You should go take that test," he said.

"I already did." I held it up for him to see the little + sign. "You're gonna be a daddy!"

Steve's eyes widened until I thought they might pop. "Really?!"

A little while later, Steve took me to breakfast at a little restaurant where his Grandpa Jim used to take them on special occasions. The fresh-squeezed orange juice tasted delicious!

We called my family from the car to share our news. Dad, Mom, Esther and Deborah were there. Once they were all together with us on speaker phone, I said: "Dad and Mom, you're going to be grandparents!"

We went to a couple of stores until Steve found a picture frame decorated with baby feet and sound affects like Beep, beep! We wrapped it and went back to Grandma Shirley's house, where Steve called everyone together.

"Mom and Dad, we have a belated Christmas gift for you," Steve said.

His mom opened the package and looked at it in confusion. "Is this for Reese's baby brother?" she asked. (Reese is her first grandson who is now 2 and has a baby brother coming soon.)

Steve and I shook our heads. The tag on the picture frame read, "To Grandpa and Grandma, From Baby Echols." Finally, it clicked, and Steve's mom started shedding tears of joy. As soon as the rest of the family saw that she understood, the room erupted! Steve's sister and nieces rushed to hug us, squealing with excitement. Our brother-in-law gave us his big, happy grin and warm congratulations. Steve's parents and Grandma Shirley came to hug us, all with tears in their eyes. "This will be our 6th grandchild!" Steve's dad said. "And my 21st great-grandchild," Grandma Shirley said.

We spent the rest of the day doing our best to reach the rest of our siblings (three of them overseas). We also got to share the news with Steve's dad's parents, who live across the street from Grandma Shirley. Grandpa Dave looked so happy and gave us big hugs. And when Grandma Stella heard the word "Baby," she stopped pacing and gave us a big smile! (Grandma Stella has dementia and doesn't understand everything around her, but she was happy about a baby!)

By the end of the day, I was completely exhausted (running on fewer than 4 hours of sleep), but Steve and I both had full hearts.

"I'm excited!" Steve told me, poking my belly. "I know what's in there!" (Besides dinner.)

We agreed that the discovery of our first baby on the way was a pretty great way to start the new year!

13 Reasons I Love Snow

I think titles with numbers in them are usually corny, cheesy or cliche. But sometimes they're intriguing. Like "11 Unique Uses for Unicorn Hair" . . . "7 Ways to Skin a Skunk" . . . or "10 Reasons to Own Pet Piranhas." Somebody should write articles for those titles . . .

Anyway, "inspired" to write a "13 Reasons" article of my own, I asked Facebook friends what I should write about. Aunt Mary suggested "13 Reasons I Want Snow," because she couldn't think of two good reasons. So, here goes:

1. I spent many a south Georgia summer cutting sweet potato vines and planting them in 113 degree heat, at 95% humidity. Those summers taught me invaluable lessons about hard work, perseverance and the satisfaction of working with one's hands. And about how much I hate being hot. Anything above 70 is hot.

2. In south Georgia, it snows about once a century. Whenever an eighth of a percent of chance of snow was in the forecast, we kept our noses pressed against the windows in hopes of seeing a few fluffy flakes.

3. The one snowman I got to build as a kid was made from rolling each section around our pasture, trying to collect enough snow to make a "real snowman." Our masterpiece looked more like a straw man because of all the hay stuck in the measly bit of snow. But boy, were we proud of Mr. Snowman! We outfitted him for the beach, and he melted faster than we could find him a pair of sunglasses.

4. Since I moved to Colorado, I've discovered a favorite new pastime: Sitting in a comfy chair by the window, wrapped in a red fleece blanket, sipping hot tea and watching big, fluffy snowflakes twirl to the ground. Is anything more relaxing? I think not.

5. Once I tire of sitting by the window, I find that a snowy day is the perfect time to bake! And baking is one of my favorite hobbies. Especially since, for me, baking usually involves chocolate or sweet potatoes--two of my favorite foods!

6. If it's a weekday and it snows enough that the roads are dangerous with poor visibility, my work might give us a snow day. I get just as giddy about snow days as any kid--maybe more. After all, that gives me a chance to enjoy #4 and #5.

7. In Colorado, snow in town usually means even more snow in the mountains. And more snow in the mountains means that many of the "yuppies" (to use a Phil Robertson term) go off to ski. Which means that driving is much more pleasant for those of us who are not from Texas or California and/or actually know how to drive in the snow.

8. A good snow also means that my hubby might just take me out in his great big 4-wheel drive truck to go sledding! And what feels more child-like or evokes more glee than skimming down a snowy hill on a sled?

9. Snow sparkles. Kind of like diamonds. And I'm a girl. I like sparkles. Snow is so pretty!!!

10. Snow gives the air a wonderful, crisp, clean feeling that is absolutely invigorating!

11. Snow on the ground is often accompanied with wood smoke in the air. Few things smell better than wood smoke. Other than sweet potato pie. Or baking brownies.

12. Every snowflake has the same number of points, yet each one is as unique as a fingerprint. Amazing!

13. When I see something ugly made beautiful by a blanket of sparkly snow, I'm reminded of this promise: "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow" (God speaking in Isaiah 1:18). I'm so glad He covers my ugliness with His beauty and gives me the ability to live unashamed!

You Might Be from a Big Family If ...

. . . Your family, while enjoying the dollar menu at Wendy's, has been mistaken for a kid's birthday party.

. . . When people ask, "Do you have any siblings?" you prepare for their look of utter shock when you answer, "Yes. I have (insert large number) of them."

. . . Their next question is, "Are you Mormon?"
      "No."
      "Catholic?"
      "No."
      "Well, then . . ." (a look of complete bewilderment, followed by:) "Your parents must really like each other."

. . .  While your family is being seated at a restaurant, diners at other tables stop eating, stare and begin to count the line of children. You see them mouth, "1, 2, 3, 4 . . ." Then their jaw drops and they cease counting. It's as if no one knows how to count past four.

. . . When people realize you're all part of the same family, they say, "You could form your own baseball team!"

. . . You fill up two carts full of groceries and hope it will last a week. The cashier assumes you're hosting a party.

. . . You wash and dry four or five loads of laundry per day. But the clean laundry may or may not get folded.

. . . You eat fast if you want seconds.

. . . Every meal prepared in your home can feed at least a dozen people, but you rarely have leftovers.

. . . If you do have leftovers, you fight over who gets to eat them for lunch the next day, instead of peanut butter and jelly.

. . . When you grow up and leave home, you buy a 9x13 pan and realize you don't know how to cook for fewer than a dozen people.

. . . You crave peace and quiet but don't know what to do with yourself after a few hours alone.

. . . You still hate doing dishes, but it's not as bad if you have someone to help you or Adventures in Odyssey to listen to.

. . . You still think Wendy's is a treat and order off the dollar menu out of habit. Ever tried dipping fries in a Frosty? The BEST!

. . . You discover that, while big families have their quirks and challenges, they also have their great rewards. After all:

1. If anybody messes with me, they'll have to deal with my brothers--all five of them! And my three sisters. Now that's scary! ;-)

With my brothers Nathanael, Caleb, Isaac, David and Benjamin.

2. My family can cook! And with a dozen good cooks in the family, we make some pretty great meals together. My mouth waters just thinking about birthdays or holidays at home.

3. Being part of a big family shows you that people aren't all the same. Each one is unique . . . and I do mean unique!

4. I have eight siblings who get it when I sing, "These are a few of my favorite things!" or "Follow me, boys, follow me!" We have hundreds of family jokes, sayings and shared memories--so fun!

5. Being part of a big family teaches you how to be flexible, how to roll with the punches, how to be considerate of others, how to set boundaries, how to be tough when you need to be, how to know when something's worth fighting for (and when it's not), how to stand up for yourself, how to stand up for each other . . . and much more . . . like how to play good practical jokes!

With my amazing sisters: Rachel, Esther and Deborah.

6. Every one of my family members knows me very well (probably "weller" than they'd like!) and still loves me. So when I get discouraged, all I have to do is talk to one of them to be reminded that I am loved, whether or not I deserve it. And that reminds me of God's unfailing love, which isn't based on deserving at all.

7. Anytime I need prayer, I can call my amazing parents, eight great siblings or terrific brother-in-law. They'll really care, and they'll really pray.

Yep, you might be from a large family if you have a ton of people who share your name, your memories, your favorite recipes, your heart and your most embarrassing moments. I love you, Lutz Fam!

The whole family (for now) including my hubby and brother-in-law.

Now, how about you? If you're part of a large family, what would you add to this list?

Answer to a Teenage Prayer

Like many of my friends, I grew up praying for my future husband. But I also prayed about my future mother-in-law. Many of the married women I knew had a tough time with their mother-in-law judging them, criticizing them and implying that they weren't good enough for their son or grandkids. How tough! Seeing the hurt, misunderstanding and tension in those relationships, I decided to pray for something different.

Steve's mom, Luann "Annie" Echols

Soon after Steve Echols and I began a serious relationship in 2011, he left for a hunting trip. With his blessing, I invited his mom over for lunch one Saturday. And by the time lunch was over, I knew I wanted to keep her. 

"Even if our relationship doesn't work out," I asked Steve, "Can I keep your mom?"

"No," he said. "I'm part of the package."

So I married him.

Now, almost two years after our wedding day, I find myself even more thankful for both Steve and his mom. (More on that in a minute.)

But first, I want to say that I have a pretty amazing mom who taught me to love and trust God, sacrifice for my family and create a legacy of faith. So even as I write about my mother-in-law, I'm equally thankful for my own mother, Elizabeth ("Beth") Lutz, and the multitude of wisdom she pours into each of her nine children. My mom has sacrificed many of her own hopes, dreams and desires to lay down her life for her family, and she gives the honor and glory to God. If I can be half the mother she is, I will have succeeded.

After Steve and I became engaged, his mom let me in on a secret. For years, she had been praying for Steve's future wife. And from the first time she met me, she knew I was the girl she'd been praying for. How incredibly affirming!

One thing I admire about Mom Echols is how creative and artistic she is. She's always using those talents to do things for others. For our rehearsal dinner, Steve's mom and sister teamed up to make two fun cakes that suited him perfectly. They also made our beautiful wedding cake and cupcakes, which tasted as delicious as they look:

Both of Steve's parents did a ton to help our wedding come together, and they rejoiced with us after we said our vows. I felt so warmly welcomed into the Echols family.

And the welcome hasn't run out. When Steve had to work a lot of evening shifts and I grew lonely, Mom Echols invited me over for dinner and game nights. When we invite Steve's parents over to watch Broncos games with us, she often volunteers to bring delicious food.

And Annie's generosity isn't limited to us. She often cooks and cleans for an older couple who can no longer do those things for themselves. She sends thoughtful care packages to her son and his family in Namibia and spent two months with them this fall. I know they'd probably keep her with them forever if they could.

Ernie and Annie's grandkids in 2012

So would Annie's daughter, Candace, and her family. Everybody loves to have her around, and her grandkids follow her into anything when she says, "Come on, it'll be fun!"

That fun spirit often reveals itself in my husband, who approaches life with a sense of anticipation and adventure. His positive outlook balances my more serious approach to life, and I'm so thankful for the lightheartedness he inherited from his mom.

I'm also thankful for the world's best apple pie recipe that Mom Echols shared with me . . . mmm! 

Thank you, Mom Echols, for being the answer to my prayer and the best mother-in-law I could imagine!