AKA - Mama Catie, and I'm addicted to Coca-Cola, especially the ones in Christmas cans and Chick-Fil-A cokes for $1.62.
I'm a child of God, pursued and ransomed by Jesus, and being shaped a little more into His image every day with ever-increasing glory.
I'm a wife, a mama, a foster mom, an advocate, a teacher, a homeschooler, a friend, a dreamer, a writer - All for Jesus.
This is Sweet Man James. AKA - Papa Jamie.
I'm hot for him.
He's a son of the most High King, and he's amazing because he has an amazing Savior.
He's a husband, a father, a father to the fatherless, an advocate, an accountant, a homeschooling daddy, a guitar-playing singer, and a planner - All for Jesus.
Together, we grieve; we celebrate; we fail, and learn, and strive. We repent and rejoice, and we sit at the cross of our Savior.
Jamie and I first saw each other across hall when he was in fifth grade, and I was in third. We were high school enemies. Seriously, he dated every one of my friends in high school and college. But, he doesn't quite remember I existed then.
We met again in college. He was interested in Miracle Mama (bet, you didn't know that Rach :). I was interested in her interest (bet, you didn't know that Jeff). They both rejected us, and we ended up on the couch in Jeff's apartment. They got married. I stood beside them.
Date #1 ~ Ended with, "Well, Catie, you're an okay, cool girl."
Date #2 ~ Ended with Sweet Man James vomiting after eating a green hot dog at Mississippi State's stadium.
Date #3 ~ Ended with, "You are the single worst kisser ever, Catie." Then, a police officer tapped on our window in the middle of the world's worst kiss.
Date #1,864 ~ Our wedding day...not exactly, but close.
This is my story-telling, bust-a-move-dancing, kiss-your-momma, faithful-friending youngest gift, Daniel.
And that is less than half of my family.
The others are represented here:
And in the 30 other marks along our doorpost.
We started this journey in June of 2001. We loved God, but we loved the plans we had for ourselves more.
We praise Him every day that He didn't let us have our ways.
Little by little over the next few years, He stripped us and brought us to a place where we had nothing left to lose, and our only choice was to cling to Him.
This High Calling isn't the calling of foster care, or of missions, or of being a wife or mother. Our High Calling is the spaces our heavenly Father grows us into as we realize we were made for more. We weren't made for happiness, or comfort, or ease.
We were made to look like Jesus, and we're being chipped, and chiseled, and hacked away at daily to bear His image a little more. Everything is woven together to achieve that purpose in our lives.
And, that is a High Calling.