Day 120: How Sweet It Is

For several days I've been trying to think of something to blog about. Though a lot has happened since last Tuesday, I didn't know where to start. I decided to share our Easter Sunday experience.

First off, leading up to Easter, Paul and I had to make plans with our families, as having a baby and seeing everyone can get kind of hectic. Our original plan was to go to Louisiana so that my family could get together for Easter and meet Rylee all at the same time. When we realized that Trevor (Paul's dad) would not be back in town until Easter (since end of March) we thought about it and decided to change some things up. This is Rylee's first big holiday (and my favorite, for several reasons) so I really wanted to share that with my parents and Paul's parents. We decided to hold off on our Louisiana trip.

So the plan was Easter church with my family, brunch with Paul's, and then back to my parent's house once Trevor had to fly out. Then, at lunch for my birthday, Paul's mom let us know that the "brunch" was being moved to 9:30am... .

See, I had a real reason I wanted to go to church on Easter Sunday, and not just because it was Easter. I truly believe that God had his hands in Rylee being OK (well of course he did!!). I believe that with all of our friends and family praying for her, God truly answered our prayers and made the problem just be the Zantac (even Dr. McDowell thought the tests would show infant febrile seizures). I believe he had a hand in the nurses not giving her the medicine so that we could figure this out without further tests.

I grew up with God in my life and home, but never went to church on a regular basis. In middle school, I went every Wednesday and loved the youth group (Glimpse @ FCC) I was a part of, but had a hard time feeling like I belonged because I didn't attend on Sundays, so I eventually quit going. I want to show God how much I appreciate his hand in Rylee's health and safety by allowing her to know God in a way I never did when I was her age. I also want to bring myself to know God better as well. I want her to be able to turn to God in her times of need and hurt, not blame Him.

After talking to Paul, we decided we would be going to church on Sunday morning and if we missed seeing his dad, then so be it. We owe a lot to God, and not going wasn't an option for me. We went to Metro Pentecostal Church in Tulsa. Merle, the man who married Paul and I, goes to church there, and is a good friend of my dad. I grew up around Pentecostal people my whole life, so I went on a search for the "right" dress, neutral makeup, and left my jewelry (besides my wedding ring) at home. My dress wasn't to the floor, but it was as close as it was going to get at my knees :) When we got there, I realized that none of that ever mattered.

When we walked in the door, people started approaching Paul and I left and right and looked at Rylee and kept saying, "This must be the baby we've been praying for." The first time it happened, I thought "oh dad must have mentioned it to Merle, that's sweet of him." Then, several more came by and said the same thing and asked how she was doing. I've never felt so touched in my life, and then at the beginning of the service the pastor started talking about how God answers prayers and then said something along the lines of, "The baby that Brother Dry asked us to pray for is here, and she is doing great." So many people turned and looked at us, and smiled and praised God. I cried right there in the sanctuary. I had no idea an entire congregation was looking out for the well being of my little girl.

I'm so thankful God led us to the right decision of going to church on Sunday. I can't wait to find a church closer to home in Owasso, because nothing will ever beat that feeling.