In the past four weeks, Sundays have basically been deemed the hardest day, with Mondays coming in a close second. There's something about getting up for church and getting there that makes it difficult each week. It might be the fact that it was one of the only times that we were always ALL going. It was one of the only times that the family was all at the same place at the same time. It took a group effort to get there- pack the diaper bag, wash the bottles, make sure everyone else was fed and ready to go. Shoes, socks, coats and ready to go out the door.

The other weekend one of the retired pastors was giving a sermon on God Calling. I'm not even sure what the sermon really was past that point because I listened to the intro and I was gone in my own little world. I was remembering the weeks where we would walk into church 10 minutes late because Dad and Jen were tired, tired, tired from staying up all night with the baby. I was thinking about the time where majority of the family was in Green Bay for the weekend. It wasn't a holiday but I'm not sure why everyone was there. We were all sitting in church listening to GrandpaDu and I was sitting there thinking about how majority of the people sitting in the service were just our family members. And then when GrandpaDu was going to eventually call up the kids for the kids sermon- I realized that there were going to probably be only two kids that weren't in the Bat family. Sure enough, GrandpaDu called up the kids for the kids sermon and we all sat down at the front of the church and he laughed and told the whole congregation that most of the kids were his own grandkids. It made it so special to me. It's probably one of the last times I went up for a kids sermon but I'm so glad that I did. I won't ever forget it.

God Calling. The pastor talked about how when God is calling you He doesn't use the phone- you can't check your caller ID and ignore the call.

Tears were streaming down my face partway through the sermon, remembering all the wonderful times I had with Zoe and GrandpaDu...sometimes tears are inevitable, whether you want them or not.

Everyday I struggle with what is God's calling for me? What does He want me to do for Him? What's ahead in my future? Will it be a fraction of what Zoe or GrandpaDu accomplished while living on this earth for 22 months or 77 years? I struggle with it so much because I feel like I haven't started and I'm 19.

Isabel brought up a good question to me tonight. Dad and Jen are with the boys in Green Bay for the night celebrating a cousin's birthday and just to be there with family as tomorrow (well, technically today...) would've been GrandpaDu's birthday. Isabel said to me, "do you think it's ironic that one month ago we were home alone and now here we are again?"
I didn't even think about it before. But then as I was sitting in the empty, quiet house...I realized something about it was familiar, in an awful way.

I used to like being able to have the house to myself for a couple of hours. Just to take in the quiet and absorb it. Within the two weeks after the crazy week...I learned that I hate quiet. I just can't handle it anymore. There's a silence about this quiet that I don't like. It's the quiet that you realize something big is missing, even if it was something small...like a baby girl. It's the quiet that you don't know whether to break with some noise or just keep it the same way...

I miss the little noises.

come what may...
teia

People have always said that I have a lot of people in my family- which is true. They are always asking how I can live with so many kids. Aren't they loud and crazy? :) -True but i love it.

When you get to a like 3 or 4 kids running around the house after that if you keep adding more to the mix it doesn't seem like that many. It's probably just how my brain works because we've had so many kids always at Omi and GrandpaDu's and here. The worst part is when you take away one person it seems like there is this huge hole. If someone isn't home for dinner it feels like you're missing 5 people instead of 1. This case is different... You wait and wait for those noises you're so used to and they don't come. Each morning I get ready in the bathroom and for months when I got ready I could hear the oxygen machine making it's noises. Dad said it sounded like Darth Vader. And when I was getting ready the other morning and I thought I heard it again. I stopped what I was doing and listened more carefully only to realize that Dad was walking around the house with the same rhythm as the sound that I'd grown accustomed to hearing. Or at night you could always hear Dad walking around finding a snack to help him stay awake while watching Zoe and feeding her. You could hear her making her cooing noises and fussing. Sometimes at night when everyone else is sleeping I still think I hear it.

This type of quiet is nothing you can explain to others so I'm not even sure why I'm trying but right now it's all I can think about...