Charles’ father had never met our children. You see, the last time we had seen Charles’ father was on Jacksonville Beach about 8 or 9 years ago. He was living on the beach, homeless, by choice, and a slave to the addiction of alcohol. This had been going on since before I met Charles in 1997. It was not uncommon in those days to recieve a call from Charles’ grandmother saying that Charles’ Sr. (Charles’ dad) was in jail for this or that, or that he needed money. When he moved out of Jacksonville into other parts of the state, we didn’t know where he was, when he would be calling except if he needed money, or was in trouble. Half the time, I am sorry to say, I expected the phone call to say that he was dead or missing in the woods, because that is where he slept most of the time if he wasn’t in jail. Despite that fact, Charles still loved his dad. Even though the relationship wasn’t as you would want a father son relationship to be, Charles still loved his dad just the way he was. He would still wire money to his dad even though we all knew it would be used for more alcohol, he would still send pictures of our children every now and then to keep his dad abreast of what was going on-if we knew where he was and had an address, most of the time he would be sleeping out in the woods. We would all pray for this man’s salvation, for him to overcome the addiction of alcohol through Jesus Christ, and for him to be safe.

We got a call about 4 months ago. It was from Charles Sr., but he was more sober than I had ever heard him. He met a Christian man who took him in, and was now going to church. He told us he was saved and that he was trying to live right. He even asked to talk to me (I hadn’t really spoken to him for about 4 years) and the conversation was actually pleasant with no explatives! THAT was really huge!!! Charles would talk to his dad often and in each conversation he would be relatively sober.
You see in his state, his body needs alcohol to function properly. He had been drinking for so long and for so many years, if he goes without alcohol for too long he starts shaking really badly, and seriously can’t function. It is an addiction that grips your very soul. So when I say relatively sober, he was still drinking, but not so drunk that you couldn’t understand half the things he was saying.
Fast forward to this weekend. Charles told me that God was really moving him to go visit his dad. He only lived two hours away in Titusville (Right by the Kennedy Space Center) and since Charles felt that his dad was more in his right mind than he had ever been, that it was time for him to meet his grandchildren.
Sunday morning came, Charles said he was thinking about taking us down there, and within 3 hours everything fell into place so we easily slipped out the door, packed, and were ready to meet Charles Sr. (Or Grandpadaddy as Grace calls him).
Now I am not going to lie… I was a little nervous before we left. I knew he was more sober than ever, but flashbacks of him from before plagued my mind, and I was nervous having the kids around him. After praying with my awesome prayer warrior friend—must do a post on how good it is to have someone to pray with outside of your husband–God just kept giving me the peace I needed, saying that it was in His hands, and that we all will be fine.
We get down there, and as we drove up to the house he was staying at I noticed he was standing at the front porch waiting for us. He had a clean shirt and shorts on and was clean shaven for the most part. His hair was neat, and his nails were nicely manicured. This man was not who I remembered Charles’ father to be. He walked down the driveway more sober and clean than I had ever seen him, and had the biggest smile on his face. He came to my side of the car first as I was getting Micah out of the car. I unstrapped Micah and started to walk towards him. I was nervous and didn’t look directly at him at first, afraid of what I might see. I smiled, glanced up, gave him a hug and said hello. I smelled the faint smell of alcohol on him, but Charles and I expected that, and accepted it. Micah instantly reached out for his Granddad. I took a deep breath afraid at first, but trusting in God’s promise that everything would be okay, I gave Micah to Charles Sr’s open arms, and beheld grandfather and grandson smiling at each other. Not knowing each other but in just a few seconds, they already “knew” each other.
I then looked up into Charles father’s face and saw a kind, loving, gentle man with an impish grin in his eyes. He looked older, the abuse he had taken over the years showed on his face and in the way he carried himself, but other than that his good nature and kind personality shined through. He was so different than the previous years I had known him. At that moment Charles gave his dad a hug and said hello to “shy” Grace. We walked inside and exchanged pleasantries.
The whole time we were there his dad was on his best behavior. Trying his best not to curse, and if he even said a mild bad word, he would apologize. He was pleasant to talk to, enjoyed his grandkids, and we had fun laughing and joking. He had some pretty interesting stories to tell, and we enjoyed him very much. Many times Charles reached out and hugged his dad, we all told him we loved him, and he did the same to us. The need for Charles Sr. to truly be part of the family was great, and we were willing to invite him into ours.
The next day we went to the Kennedy Space Center. Charles’ dad had been talking about going there for years, dreaming about being an astronaut his whole life, and now he finally got a chance to go with his son. The day was amazing. Charles and his dad had times where it was the two of them, and I could see glimpses of the relationship the two of them had. Grace eventually warmed up to “grandpadaddy” and asked to hold his hand along with my hand. As we were walking together, mommy, Grace, and grandpadaddy, through the space center courtyard, I felt like we could have been a Hallmark card photo, the moment was perfect.
At one point, Charles was talking to his father leaning up against a rail, he glanced over and noticed him and his father standing exactly the same way. Laughing and pointing it out, the typical “like father like son” saying was mentioned.
Micah reached for grandpadadddy several times. Charles Sr. loved his grandchildren and it showed. They all climbed into a space capsile together for a photo opportunity, but they never could get to stand still long enough for a good photo to be taken.
At the end of the day, as we dropped Charles Sr. off at his house, we said our goodbyes. Grace and Micah hugged him, and said “I love you.” I climbed out of the car and gave him a big hug, and looked directly into those kind worn eyes, smiled and told him I loved him.
“Pray with him.” God’s unmistakeable voice said to me.
“No God, I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Pray with him.”
I waited for Charles to finish hugging him, and asked if we could pray together.
“Sure!” was Charles Sr.’s reply with a grin.
Charles, Charles Sr. and I all grabbed hands under a darkening sky with thunder rolling in the distance. As we stood there fat raindrops fell down on and around us. Not enough to soak us, but just a light drop here and there. Peace fell around us. I put my hand on Charles’ Sr’s back and our heads touched as a father and daughter would do if praying together. I don’t remember what I prayed, but I know the family connection was so strong. We were a family praying under a darkening sky for simply God’s protection.
I got into the car after giving him another hug, and glanced at Charles hugging his dad so tightly. Charles said a few things to his dad, and with an “I love you,” got into the driver’s side of the car. Charles rolled down his window, and we all said that we loved him. You could see Charles Sr.’s eyes misting up as he said he loved us too. As the rain was falling all around him, he stood at the end of the driveway waving until our vehicle was out of his sight.
“A Byrd Family Tradition.” said Charles.
“What?” I asked.
“Wave goodbye until the family member is out of sight.”

For two years I had the priviledge of leading the dance group that provided the entertainment for Shine (An AWESOME women’s conference www.shineinc.org). It was truly a wonderful experience to fellowship with the dancers at practices, and to see those women’s faces at the actual conference on the dance floor having a great time. I really loved it. 
So as I was preparing for this years Shine back in September, I was shocked when I felt like God said, “You are not going to dance in the After Party this year.”
Surely this was not God speaking to me, for I know God used me so mightily in many ways through the After Party, why would He take me out now? So I asked God, “If this is really You, and you don’t want me dancing this year, I need a sign. A BIG one.” (I am a little hard headed, so I need a neon glowing sign to direct me sometimes!)
Needless to say He gave me that neon glowing sign about a month later and I obediently handed off the resposibility to the person God told me to. To be honest it was painful for me to not even be involved. I like serving at church. I like using my talents to bless others. The satisfaction that comes with showing Jesus’ Love for others through you is so fulfilling. Much less to not dance or even have my hands in something that I treasured? My heart hurt.
About two months later (Three months before Shine) God told me to buy an extra ticket for my mother. I obediently did so, but wondered how in the world she was going to come with me. You see last year, I bought a ticket for her and she stayed to see me dance for the opener, and then high-tailed it out of there. I think I saw smoke coming from her tracks. Anyhoo, I obeyed God, prayed about it and then left it alone.
Fast forward a couple of months, my mom was getting interested and open to God. I won’t give details, but I will say, God moved so quickly in my family, that I am still reeling from the harvest. My sister was coming to Shine, her friend who my sister bought a ticket for was coming to Shine, and my mother was going too.
The first night of the conference, my mom and I went together. My sister was unable to attend. We took our seats in a crowded auditorium filled with at least 2,000 people. The lights went low, and the music came on. It was awesome. All of us started to sing praise and worship songs. Imagine the sweet sound of 2,000 women singing the hearts openly and honestly to Jesus. Beautiful. At one point I took my mom’s hand in my hand and held the other up in the air. My mom then brought her other hand to my hand, squeezing so tightly and not letting go. It was mother and daughter thanking God together as one. It was such a beautfiul moment. Tears were streaming down her face and mine. God was doing amazing things in our lives and in our relationship with each other.
Throughout the conference I got little times with my mom, that I would not have had if I were serving at the conference. I was even willing to clean the toilets so I could at least serve somewhere, but God kept saying, “No!” Those times with my mom were so integral in helping to continue to heal and build our relationship that was so broken from the past. At the Shine After Party the next night, my mom and I were at the edge of the dance floor watching the dancers on stage, and the YMCA came on. Mom started swaying to the beat, and I asked her if she wanted to go out on the dance floor. She agreed with a big smile. As both of us were trying to do our best YMCA (Mom had the backwards “C” until I corrected her!) I looked around at the ladies dancing on stage and then looked at my mom’s beaming face that had tears welling up in her eyes because she was enjoying herself so much.
God, You can take me out of the serving game any time you want.

Now that is a phrase you don’t want to hear from the other room. But alas, my three year old baby girl was shouting those words in her cute little three year old voice. As I walked towards their room, I felt like I was on a death march. Knowing the doom that lay ahead, I took a deep breath, and peeked my head in their room. Micah was standing on Grace’s toddler bed diaperless, with only one boy’s tennis shoe that was 5 sizes too large. He piped up “Hi!” as he saw me enter the room. Grace was standing in front of the bed on one leg and had the other leg propped up on her toe because she had poop on her heel. The bedspread and pillow had been thrown off the bed and was strewn about the room, along with several dress up items, and I do believe the match to the shoe Micah was wearing was in there somehow as well. His diaper was on the floor , as well as his “prossesed” dinner. Ahem. 

“Micah went poop!” said Grace.

I picked her up and yelled to Charles who was in the next room, “Charles! I need some help!”

He came in and got Micah, put him on the carpet, not realizing that there was also poop in Micah’s feet. So then Charels called to me that he needed help, all the while I had Grace on the changing table scrubbing her feet. He came out holding a pants-less 19 month old and had a panicked look in his eye. Trying to help my huband out I moved Grace to the chair and told her not to touch the bottom of her foot. She obediently held her foot up like it was radioactive and stared at it. (Such a good girl.) I turned back only to realized that there was poop all over Micah, and since we only had half a box of wipes left in the whole house he had to have a bath.

“Let’s put him in the bath.”

Charles quickly obliged, and we walked into the bathroom, only to find that there was stuff in the tub from their last bath. Charles groaned because his arms were getting tired from holding a 30 pound boy at arms length from him. I hurried as fast as I could, put him down, washed him off much to his protest, and Charles was on his knees the next 15 minutes scrubbing the carpet.

Lesson: Don’t ever buy used carpets from people, because you never know what has happened to them.

But he’s manly about it.

I suppose I have to tell you why I think this. Alright, pull up your provierbial chair and hang out with me for a bit.

We were outside in the afternoon sun, and I brought out a bubble gun. It was one of those cheap guns you buy at Walmart that when you squeeze the trigger, bubbles come shooting out. Both kids were practically holding onto my legs wanting to see what the fancy new gadget that mama brought out was. I fiddled with the darn thing for a minute or two, because we all know that toys don’t always work like the directions say they are supposed to. After much shaking and hitting the thing with my palm, I got the bubbles going. When my daughter saw them she squealed with delight and started running around pretending she was in the shower and bubbles were flowing all around her. Micah however ran for the porch door which was ten feet away.

I can’t say why the little guy was so scared of bubbles, but one thing was for sure, every time I went near him with bubbles, he backed away from me. So I had Grace right underneath me yelling, “Get me Mama! I want to take a shower!” and Micah ten feet away hiding from the bubbles.

*sigh* When he gets older, his dad is so going to tease him for this.

I just want to announce that Charles and I went to the Boat show yesterday and found several boats that we liked. So if any of you would like to purchase say, a half a million dollar yacht for us, we would be happy to let you sail with us every now and then. Here are some pictures of our day.

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We all knew it was going to happen. The day that Micah decided to test his boundaries with dear sweet mama. First of all let me preface by saying this: Micah is a Mama’s Boy through and thorough. If mama isn’t around, it just isn’t fun for him. So for Micah to test me, means that he is growing into is own and becoming *sniff* a big boy.

*Ding Ding Ding Ding*
ROUND  1
It was Wednesday night and we just got home from church. Micah and Grace were ready for bed and playing in the kitchen while Charles and I were trying to hold a conversation. Micah comes up to me to ask for more water. I grab the water from the kitchen counter, and ask him to say “please.” Now mind you, he has said please MANY times on several different occasions, so I know he knew the word, and knew what I was asking of him. He looked at me, looked at the water, and then decided that he was not going to say it. He promptly threw himself on the floor and started wailing, pushing his little body with his feet almost as if he was an inchworm moving along the floor. Charles and I looked at each other, he took Grace out of the kitchen, and I followed suit. No audience, no reason for temper tantrum.

He then got up quickly and walked into the other room where we were, made sure I was looking at him, and threw himself down on the floor again, and started all over with the wailing and imitating an inchworm on the floor. We went back into the kitchen, with wailing Micah behind us, and I grabbed the water, and he stopped immediately. No tears, no wailing, just a quick sniff and an expectant look for me to just give him what he worked so hard for. After all throwing a tantrum that big did merit a prize, right?

Ahem, let’s continue:  I asked him to say please again and he looked at me and threw himself back on the floor again, wailing and now adding a roll to it. He ended up throwing something across the room, and I picked him up, brought him upstairs, kissing him good night, and put him to bed. That was the end of that.

*Ding Ding Ding Ding*
ROUND  2
Or so I thought. About two hours later he woke up crying and thirsty. My mom instincts told me not to fight the “please” battle until morning. So I gave him the water he wanted in the first place he sucked the whole thing down, (Thirsty little guy), and then passed out in my arms with a faint “Aha! I win” smile on his face. Little stinker won that round.

*Ding Ding Ding Ding*
ROUND  3
When I woke up in the morning I knew I had to make sure Micah said please. Let’s just say if I gave in to him, and let him have anything he wanted, then my role as a respected parent in his world would not be effective. I was ready. I made a beautiful breakfast that morning. Eggs, Fresh organic strawberries cut into bite size pieces the way he likes it, and buttered toast. Yum! Both Grace and Micah were downstairs and I had given them their milk to sip on. When I put the breakfast out on the table I made sure Micah was paying attention, and asked Grace in a very loud and clear voice, “Grace can you say please?” She promptly said “Please!” and I picked her up, and put her in her chair at the table to eat. Micah got the point. As Grace was shoveling the fresh strawberries in her mouth I picked up Micah to reveal the plate full of his favorite breakfast. He reached for his chair almost tasting those strawberries in his mouth. I then asked him to say please.

He stopped. He looked at me. The defiant smirk came across his sweet little lips. He then started wailing and kicking.

I put him down, told him no, and that he would not eat until he said please. He threw himself down on the floor and did the same number that he did last night. Only this morning he added a little twist to it so it was more of a pilates pose rather than the previous night’s inchworm. Glad to see that Micah is branching out.

Meanwhile Grace and I are at the table enjoying our breakfast as much as we can, eating strawberries and toast, and every now and then glance down at Micah. (Who by the way would stop to watch us eat, but as soon as I turned my head towards him, he would start to wail. Hmmmmmmm.) I would pick him up and kiss him and hug him, tell him how much I loved him, but when he reached for a strawberry, I would ask him for a simple “please” and he refused. Wailing and arching his back. Kicking, and flailing. Ahhh what a beautiful sight in the Byrd’s Nest.

After about 20 minutes or so, I started feeling really guilty. I mean the little guy was so hungry, and all he wanted to do was eat. Perhaps I wasn’t doing the right thing. Maybe my memory of him saying please wasn’t accurate. Was I being a good parent? Is this abusive? At the culmination of these thoughts my dear husband walks downstairs as says, “Are you sure he knows how to say please?” So then I started really second guessing myself. So I prayed.

“God, am I doing the right thing?”

I heard, “Yes you are. Keep going.”

So that is what I did. Grace was still hungry so she asked for yogurt. (Micah’s second favorite breakfast) His little ears perked up when the y-word was mentioned, and he toddled over to the refrigerator with me as I grabbed two yogurts. I asked him if he wanted some, and he smiled and said “yes.” (Actually it sounds more like “doh” from Homer Simpson, but that is his word for yes.) So I brought one for Grace and set the other on Micah’s high chair. I picked him up again, and said, “Say please.” Nope. Not going to do it. The great flailing act continued. This boy is persistant, and knows it. I put him down for him to resume the morning floor show he had been giving us. Grace finished her breakfast, I got her down from her chair, and Micah wanted up in her place. He wanted the yogurt she was eating. Still no please, so no yogurt for him.

As he was now beating his tiny fists on the table, I sat at there  with him frustrated and worried that he might not eat. At least I was giving him milk, so he had something in his stomach. As I sat there, I wondered what he liked that he could not pass up. Then it hit me. Juice Plus Gummy vitamins. They are vitamins but are in gummy form. You can’t beat that!

I asked Grace and Micah if they wanted their vitamins. Both said yes, and I do believe Micah clapped his little hands. I got out the containers and sat at the middle of the table with Grace at one end and Micah at the other. I opened the containers and doled out the right amount for each. I asked Grace to say please and she said it no problem. (I think she enjoyed getting to be the big obedient girl). I then turned to Micah and asked the best cheerful voice I could muster, “Say please.”

“Pleeeeeaaaase!” In perfect clarity my son uttered that priceless word I had been asking for all morning. He gave in. I just about cried I was so relieved. I felt like shouting! I gave him some of his vitamins and he asked for more. I asked him to say please and he said it again no problem, with a big smile on his face. I then asked if he wanted strawberries. He said please. Eggs: Please: toast: Please: Yogurt: please. No problem, perfect clarity, everytime.

After feeding Micah, I ran upstairs swung open the door to Charles’ office waited for him to look at me. As he turned to look, I raised my arms in the air as if I were announced the winner at a boxing match and mouthed those silent words, “YES!!!! I won!” Relieved and happy my son was eating, and that my first real test with him had been successful I couldn’t shout because the kids would hear, but had to share my joy with Charles. 

Mom wins.

We had a great time today at our playgroup’s Valentines Day party. The kids played all day at Chou Chou’s house (Awesome Woman of God who is the mother of one of my good friends who has a son Cailean–two weeks older than Grace). Chou Chou’s house is like Disneyland for kids. Her backyard has a play set, with any type of backyard toy there is, and her house is made for kids to explore and have a fun, relaxing time. When we walk into this house, you immediately feel God’s Peaceful Presence. It is like you never want to leave. Truly all who enter there get blessed somehow by these two wonderful women who host the playdate–Julie and Chou Chou. This day was no exception.
When you walk in the sweet smell of freshly baked cookies and brie filled my nostrils. So good to be there! I walk in, and the whole house is decorated Valentine’s Day style; Hearts, balloons, you name it, it was there. The kids immediately went to the backyard porch to play with their friends, while I got to eye the chocolate-dipped strawberries and sample some of the freshly baked brie with walnuts and cranberries. (Yes I went straight for the food–I had my priorities straight!) Each of the food was labeled and the set up made you feel so special, because it was like you were treated like royalty. It was such a relaxing day filled with fellowship with friends, and time to enjoy our children and see the hugs that they gave each other, and laugh together at the little things they do that give us such joy. My favorite part of the day was when Grace and Cailean–two weeks apart in age– went to the backyard, sat on two child-sized lawn chairs, and just sat and talked like they were old friends over a cup of coffee. Only God knows what they were talking about , but it truly was priceless. (I should note that Grace did most of the talking and Cailean just sat there contentedly, listening to her. Well, she is MY daughter. What do you expect?)

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Grace received a princess dress up trunk for Christmas this year. Inside were gold slippers to be worn with her outfits. Well, Micah decided he wanted to put them on. He LOVES these things. Every time he sees them he rushes over to them grabs them in his chubby little hands, and hands them to me giving me the “Will you put these on me?” look. So I slip them on to his little feet and he happily trots away walking around the house. Charles saw this one day, and I quickly defended my actions by saying, “They are Rock Star Surgeon shoes.” Well…I tried. Here are some pictures for your viewing pleasure.

We just came off of our church 21 day fast, and it was amazing. God showed me so much in this time, I could fill a book. However, my fingers are tired, so I will type just a small portion of what He worked in me. Ready for this???

Accept God’s Gift of Grace. It is not earned, there is no way I can act good enough to earn His Grace or love. That was a biggie for me.

All my life I grew up thinking that I’d better be good, or else God will be mad at me. He won’t like me or accept me because I am not doing something right. That I couldn’t pray to Him and get my prayers answered because I wasn’t super spiritual, or that I was living so heavily in sin that He wouldn’t be able to hear my prayers. It was performance based love. In reality He loved me even before one of my days were here on earth. Hows that for a thinker? (That is southern slang…thought I’d throw that one in there) It still is hard for me to grasp sometimes, after several years of truly living my life for Jesus. Once I think I am on the right track, then BAM I am living a performance based life again. So during this fast God was really trying to tell me, “I love you Sarah just as you are. No amount of good deeds, or bad deeds is going to change that.”

We drove down to Celebration’s Hardee Campus this past weekend to help out with the Princess Party they held for girls ages 1 to 9. Actually girls ages 0 months to 90 years old showed up decked out in their beautiful princess outfits. They walked to the building decorated with Christmas lights and pink luminaria bags lining the walkway. As they entered into the room, classical music was playing, and they were met with tulle decorated everywhere, white christmas lights, and different stations that each girls could go to. They had princess cookie decorating, fingernail painting, face painting, dress up station, take your picture in front of a castle, decorate your own gift bags, horse drawn carriage rides, jewelry making station, and of course there were tables with individual place settings with tiaras that said “princess” and plates, punch cups, and decorated princess cookies on a wooden stick. It was amazing! These girls were treated like royalty, just as they should be. Most of these girls came from poor backgrounds, and did not have much to begin with. All of these girls needed to know how beautiful they were in God’s eyes, and that they were on this earth for a purpose. The hard work that the volunteers and church members of Celebration Church put into making this party happen was astounding. These people put their hearts into making this event happen and it showed. I can’t begin to tell you the overwhelming feeling I got just watching everything. The icing on the proverbial cake? At the end we taught them three dances and they all danced the night away enjoying the remnants of an evening I am sure they will never forget. It was priceless. God is so Good for allowing me to be a part of that evening. Here are pictures we took….enjoy!

 

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