Monday, December 16, 2013

2013: A Year of Ruttman Family Firsts

Weighing in at 7lbs 8oz and measuring 19 ½ inches long, Savannah BrenĂ©e takes the cake for the record number of firsts for 2013. Our first girl took her first breath at 9:30 am on May 28. In the subsequent 6 months, some of her firsts include: sleeping through the night, 1st smile, 1stt laugh, rolled over, found her thumb, sat up by herself, 1st Race for the Cure, 1st haircut, and cut her 1st tooth. These stats do not capture the essence of our little darling though. We lovingly refer to her by many different names: Savannah, Vannie, Vannah, Vannah Banana, Princess Piggy, and Snorty McSnorterson are just a few of our favorites. If I could, I would bottle up the scent of her silky smooth hair and the memory of her squishy legs, soft skin, and toothy grin so I could break it out years from now to remember this precious time with her. She is sweet as pie and extremely laid back. She patiently blows raspberries to show discontent rather than crying, adores her family, intently studies adults’ faces when they are engaged in conversation, flaps her wings and kicks with delight when someone she loves walks into the room…. especially our cat Simba, who quite frankly could care less. 

Just as we were getting used to being a family of 6, Brad met the call to go on his 4th deployment, the 1st to Afghanistan. The roar of freedom broke the silence of the crisp morning air well before dawn on September 5th, when he and 5 other jets pushed out for the 9 hour flight to Spain, then to Qatar, and finally landed in Afghanistan where they set up camp for the next 2 ½ months. During this tour, he set a personal record for the most sorties and most flying hours on a deployment to date. The sorties were the longest he’s ever flown (typically 6-7 hours each), so it didn’t leave much free time. We were able to text almost daily and Skype once a week, which made the miles between us seem a little closer. He landed back in Tulsa on Coleman’s birthday, and just in case you were wondering: Daddy’s return was indeed the best. birthday present. ever. 

In the months of his absence, I (Stephanie) kept the Ruttman Family Circus up and running with the help of family, friends, and our new church family Trinity Presbyterian Church in Owasso. In my spare time (HA! By spare time, I mean the time that I let everything else go for the sake of working on this project), I was able to come very close to replicating my mom’s salsa with vegetables from my very 1st garden that Brad and the boys made me for Mother’s Day! I am giddy over the idea of teaching my daughter how to grow and harvest vegetables someday, just like my mom did for me. My two little tomato plants exploded and yielded more tomatoes than I could keep up with! I’m already looking forward to next season and more salsa… 

JJ experienced his fair share of memorable firsts in 2013: Brad taught him how to use a riding lawn mower, so now the two of them knock out the mowing together in less time.  He got his 1st pair of glasses, which he says is like seeing the world in High Definition. You can bet the younger boys got great satisfaction out of correcting their elder brother during his eye exam when he started getting the letters wrong on the eye chart. The year 2013 will go down in his own personal history as the year he met and fell in love with a girl for the 1st time: his baby sister. He came with us to the hospital when she was born, and they have been nearly inseparable ever since.  It was also the year he accepted his 1st role in a community-wide, all-kid theater production:  Jolly Roger and the Pirate Queen.  God has given him such an intense passion and talent for entertaining on stage that we can only expect to see more of this in his future! Lastly, 2013 marks the year he shot his 1st deer, a well-respected rite of passage in our little family. He beamed with pride as Brad presented him with a knife of his own in the presence of other young men and bestowed on him the honor of participating in the newly formed Ruttman hunting traditions. 

In 2013, Christian tried baseball for the 1st time, started Kindergarten, learned to read(!), and became obsessed with complicated Lego creations. From time to time I can hear the Legos scatter all over the dining room table as he empties a large Lego kit. Hours later he will come strutting in the living room with a meticulously built elaborate creation, using the step-by-step instructions from the box. He adores his baby sister, laughs wildly at everything she does, and eagerly carries the news of her milestones to anyone who will listen. He enjoys going to school and takes a lot of pride in his work. He is our child that understands the value in putting off something fun for greater enjoyment later: he saves candy for later, saves his dollars and coins for a bigger purchase, and of his own accord chose to delay his birthday party a month and a half so his daddy could be home for it. 

In 2013, Coleman FINALLY got to abandon ship with his brothers in the drop-off line at Stone Canyon Elementary. He started Pre-K! He is very proud to be a member of the club that complains about having to go to school, but secretly looks forward to learning something new every day. Not to be shown up by his older brother, he taught himself how to write his name and has listened so attentively every time we review Christian’s sight words that he can now read as well! He and Christian also went hunting with Dad for the 1st time this year. Coleman fell asleep in the ground blind when the 3DS went out of power and Christian kept busy playing games quietly on Daddy’s phone while he kept watch for unsuspecting deer. Coleman gets a thrill out of unlocking new levels on Lego Batman 2 on the Wii, dressing up in superhero costumes with his friends, playing with Transformers, and doting on his baby sister. 

The year 2013 was filled to the brim with memorable firsts for our family, but one in particular is not one we find joy in retelling… however it was such a pivotal event that it feels deceptive to leave it out. On May 20th, the 1st unwelcome guest ever barged through the front door of my childhood home and damaged it beyond repair. My mom took cover in the little toy closet under the stairs before the tornado ripped through her 35-year-old home.  After it left, she walked out to find complete devastation all around her, but she herself was unharmed, praise the Lord. The shock and grief of losing my childhood home was offset by the utter joy and excitement of welcoming Savannah into our family just 8 days later. She gave us all something to celebrate in the midst of tragedy. Her birth was a symbol of new life sprouting up out of the ashes. We were reminded that stuff breaks, but life goes on. Even sturdy houses can be made to resemble a giant game of pick-up sticks… but our souls are indestructible! The hope we have in Jesus’ perfect life, his sacrificial death, his burial, and his glorious resurrection on our behalf has propelled us forward through the heartbreak of loss, and has given us peace and even excitement as we anticipate the day He comes back to make all things new!!

We wish you a Merry Merry Christmas and a Happy Happy Happy New Year!

With love,
The Ruttmans

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Four Kids? Husband Deployed? How Do You Do It?

“Four kids? Husband deployed? I don’t know how you do it, ” they say.


“All by the grace of God,” I say, and then it’s usually on to another small talk subject.


But what I REALLY want to say is, “All by the grace of God. His mercies are new every morning. He provides strength and stamina, and peace of mind every single day, all day. He has helped me keep an eternal perspective during this time. He has placed us in a church home where I get to hear about my acceptance by God because of Christ every Sunday, in spite of my parenting failures throughout the week in my husband’s absence. He moves in the hearts of others to use their eyes and ears to search out ways to help, and their hands and feet to act swiftly to meet our every need: He gave me my mom, my in-laws, my family and friends back in Moore, my friends who have become family here in Owasso, even my own kids who have all been an extension of God’s love to me. Do you know that someone from Trinity Presbyterian Church in Owasso has brought us a meal every Monday since the week Brad left? Do you have any idea the difference it has made to have one meal a week that I don’t have to think about? My mom came up for several days at a time and loved on my kids and cleaned the heck out of my house. My mom-in-law spent a good amount of time here loving on the kids to give me a break to run errands alone, go shopping, have lunch with a friend, whatever.  My father-in-law and other mom-in-law have a way of speaking encouragement into my life at the perfect time and in the simplest ways and make themselves readily available to relieve me in any way, always eager to spend time with the kids and I. My brother-in-law came in on a weekly basis to mow and make sure the boys get adequate guy time and wrestling time while Daddy’s gone. Can you guess how many folks have told us they are praying for us in Jesus’ name? Do you know that so many family and friends came over to keep me company that I often woke up of a morning, having to remind myself who was sleeping where? The supply of offers for babysitting, rides to and from school and activities, and help in any way, has overwhelmingly exceeded the demand. So, how do I do it? By the grace of God, my friend. His mercies are new every morning.”

But brief encounters don’t lend themselves to lengthy acknowledgements, so “All by the grace of God,” I usually say… and leave it at that.

Saturday, October 26, 2013

Putting Deployments in Perspective

He really hasn’t been gone that long in the grand scheme of things. We always say, “It’s a drop in the bucket” regarding the chunk of time he’s away on any given deployment. But still… he’s half a world away, and I miss him so much it hurts sometimes. Life is just better when he’s here with me and the kids. His mere presence at home releases the tension in my shoulders.  It sounds dramatic, but it’s true! The confidence I have in the depth of his love and care for us provides a strong underlying sense of safety, a security blanket that relaxes the air around here. His steady, loving, untiring commitment to us day in and day out signifies that he would fight to the death to make sure we were taken care of, if that’s what it took. So far, he hasn’t needed to fight for us… for now, I just miss my best friend.  He’s coming back soon, and I eagerly anticipate the day I can feel his arms wrapped tightly around me. The thought of that future moment propels me forward with joy of heart through each day of his absence. Keeping my head down, marching forward, taking each day as it comes, not concerning myself with exact dates and times. Simply “soon” is good enough for me. Keeping my chin up, enjoying life here, soaking up the privilege of holding down the fort, keeping everything around here up and running, and being mommy to the kiddos, friend and family to family and friends, and faithful and loving wife in his absence.


This whole deployment experience has opened up a beautiful new dimension for my spiritual perspective: Christ is coming back for me. Like, for REAL. He’s just on a “drop in the bucket” deployment, but he’ll be back. And no matter what happens while he’s there and I’m here, when he gets back he’ll take care of it. His loving commitment day in and day out fuels my confidence that he’s keeping his promise to fight for me (to the death and beyond!!) until at last victory is won for good. The confidence I have in the hope of his return helps me enjoy my role in this life, no matter what the circumstances are… and when circumstances surrounding me get dark and worrisome, I just remember that it’ll all be taken care of when he gets back. I’m giddy for the day I get to see him face to face… but until then, I’ll keep my head down, plunging forward through the hard days, not concerning myself with exact dates and times, and my chin up, soaking up the sweet moments of this life until He comes back.  

Friday, August 23, 2013

Brotherly Love

“We don’t treat each other like that. God gave you a brother as a gift. You guys are best friends, you love each other, you look out for each other! If you two are having a problem and you can’t work it out with your words, you need to come to me to let me help you. Now what do you think you should say to each other?”

He grumbles rebelliously under his breath with his head hung low, “I’m sorry I took the toy from you… will you forgive me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I yelled at you… will you forgive me?” the other one mumbles in a like manner.

Such forced dialogues are a commonly rehearsed in our home, and are followed by a short speech that goes something like: “It’s important to learn how to admit when you’ve done wrong and ask forgiveness. You’re going to mess up a lot in life and it’s important to practice how to repair your relationships with people, even now, with each other. I can make you say the words, but I can’t make you mean them in your heart. Only God can help you do that. I pray your heart will change as you grow in your understanding of what Jesus did for you when he died on the cross and rose from the dead to save sinners like us.”

All they seem to hear at that point is “Waa waa waa waaaaa, waa waa waa waaa.” I take a deep patient breath, and wonder if God really will ever work in their hearts.

Once JJ asked, “Mom, why do make us say those words? NOBODY talks like that.”

“Yes I know,” I replied in typical mom fashion that all kids loathe, “but you’re not ‘nobody’. You’re somebody. And someday you’re going to marry a somebody, and the sooner you learn to admit wrong and apologize, the better.”

I can’t blame him. I get it. He’s right. It’s awkward. It’s not natural for us to admit wrong. It’s painful! It takes more strength and energy in the seconds it takes to say “I was wrong, and I’m sorry. Will you please forgive me?” than it does in the HOURS we’re willing to spend building a case to justify our offenses.

Christian and Coleman really are best friends. It’s almost as if they are the same person. They look out for each other. I have caught them on many occasions putting the other’s wants ahead of their own. They generally share and take turns willingly. They laugh and play video games and pretend to be super heroes all day. They get along. They rarely ever have a conflict, and when they do, it’s usually resolved easily. They’re guys, they don’t hold grudges anyway.

So I was heartbroken the day they got into their first real fight.

They were playing with legos in their bedroom when all of a sudden I heard Christian wailing. I walked in to find him boo-hooing with his face buried in a pillow under his bed. Coleman was sitting on the trundle, visibly upset, but not crying. “What on earth is going on in here?!”

“COLEMAN BIT ME!!”

“CHRISTIAN SLAPPED me REALLY HARD and it hurt REALLY BAD! He said he was NEVER gonna get off of me and he wouldn’t let me up!” When he turned his head I saw Christian’s handprint on the side of his face. I was mortified. This was completely foreign territory to me. Their conflicts had never escalated this far before.

As if on cue, Brad came home from work right as I had put them in separate rooms. Thank God, I thought. He will be much more effective in dealing with this. As he listened to the drama unfold, his face lit up with every word I spoke. I stopped mid-story.

“Why are you SMILING?!”

“Because they’re BROTHERS! That’s what brothers do! We should let ‘em fight, just bring ‘em out here in the middle of the living room and let them duke it out. Yeah! We’ll give ‘em boxing gloves and turn them loose on each other!”

“What? NO!”

Brad put his game face on and entered the room where Christian was.

“What’s going on?”

And then it happened, just like that: a genuine desire to reconcile began to unfold right before our eyes. After a few seconds of reflection, a look of disgusted self-awareness came over him. He raised an eyebrow and his forehead wrinkled, “It was actually not very important really… it was just about legos.” He proceeded to give an accurate account of the sequence of events from the beginning. It turns out, Christian was building an animal out of legos and Coleman wanted to use the eye for something he was building. Christian refused to give it to him, and Coleman started yelling at him, telling him he HAD to. Christian got tired of Coleman yelling, so he hauled off and put his handprint on the side of his face. Then they fought for a little bit. Christian used his size to his advantage, pounced on Coleman and vowed never to let him up. That’s when Coleman sunk his teeth into Christian’s shoulder, causing him to recant and hide under the bed. After this explanation, Brad asked, “So, who was wrong?” Christian answered, “Coleman was I think…” then he confessed, “actually both of us were wrong. And I just now thought about something… I should’ve just given him the lego.”

“Oh Christian, that would’ve been nice, but we wouldn’t have made you do that. It’s ok that you didn’t give it to him. We just want you to come to us if you can’t work something out using your words.”

Brad left to get Coleman’s side of the story. Meanwhile, Christian tried to hide the lump in his throat, but his voice began to crack and giant tears welled up in his eyes as he climbed into my lap and buried his face in my shoulder, “…but legos are not important… Your LIFE is important! Legos are just LEGOS. They don’t even mean anything…” Yes, that sweet music came right out of the heart of my 5 year old middle guy.


When we joined the two up again, Brad made them stand in front of him. “Raise your hand if you were wrong.”  Both boys raised their hands. “Good. That’s right. You were both wrong. Now, I want to teach you boys to grow up to be strong men, and strong men always THINK before they act. They use their heads: not their fists, not their teeth. Strong men always THINK first.” Then, all on their own, they apologized to one another, admitting their offense, and asking forgiveness of each other from their hearts. And I, well my heart swelled with thankfulness at the preview of what God is beginning to do in their hearts. 

Friday, May 31, 2013

It Is Well With My Soul

When we announced that we were expecting baby #4, JJ pleaded to be the one to call and share the news with Grandma Sharon. He wanted to set up the conversation in a way that he could nonchalantly drop the bomb and await her reaction. He later detailed their conversation: “I asked her what she was up to, but I admit I only asked because I wanted her to ask me back. I didn’t even pay attention to what she said, but I’m betting she said something about watching the weather, since that’s what she’s always doing…” I belly laughed because I knew he was likely right on the money! My mom is the family weather-wonder-woman. Clear skies or storms ahead, I have come to rely on Mom to let me know when to be weather aware in Owasso. 

I hadn’t heard a word from her on May 20th, 2013, so I had no cause for alarm and no clue what was brewing in my hometown of Moore, OK. Following a nice, leisurely, media-free afternoon visit at a friend’s house, I rounded up my two younger boys and headed to pick JJ up from school. Waiting in the car line, I logged on to Facebook on my phone. A friend’s status read, “Tornado just touched down on 149th and May!” Hmm, that’s odd. That’s right next to my cousin’s house. It must be a joke or a mistake though, since I haven’t heard from anyone today. I’m sure it’s nothing significant. I dialed my mom’s number. I can imagine her irritation when she heard my completely oblivious voice on the other end of the line, “Heyyy! What’s going on over there?” 

“Oh, Steph, there’s a big tornado headed right for my house.” Now, my mom isn’t one to be very dramatic just for effect, but I was certain she was overreacting in this case. Tornadoes have threatened that house so many times over the last 35 years, but her house had always seemed to have a protective shield around it. All different shapes and sizes of funnels have touched down nearby but always stayed just blocks to the north, to the south, to the east or to the west. Like clockwork every spring for as long as I can remember, the dark, scary clouds circulate above her house, but change their minds about forming a funnel and retreat. I fully expected this menace to thin out and disappear before it ever came close to her neighborhood. I had no frame of reference for what was happening; nevertheless, I understood that any tornado is a scary one, especially when you’re by yourself. I just needed to be a calming voice in her ear. I assured her everything was going to be ok, she was going to be ok, etc… 

She was watching the television as she stood on the phone with me. I started asking questions to gauge the best approach to keeping her calm.
“Have you cleared out the closet?”
“Yes.”
“Are they saying to take cover in the central part of the house?”
“NO! They’re saying get UNDERGROUND … Someone’s calling on the other line…… that was Peetie, he told me I need to get out of here. I can’t leave. I don’t know where I would go.” I remembered the exact same directions given during the course of the last deadly tornado that ripped through Moore: get underground.
“It’s gonna be ok, Mom, you’re gonna be ok.” My confidence was wavering. I started to wonder. I was so confused. It was all happening too fast to process. My mom was scared, and there was nothing I could do from where I was. I just wanted to be with her. I didn’t want her to be alone. I worried more about her blood pressure than the destruction from a tornado. I just didn’t want her to be alone.
“Steph, I’ve got to hang up. It’s here. I have to get in the closet.” Her voice was laced with panic, and I fought for the right words to calm her.
“Ok. I love you, Mom. You’re gonna be ok. Stay calm. Pray. Call me when it’s over. Whatever happens, it’s gonna be ok. It is well with your soul.”
“I love you too. I gotta go.” Click.

Inching forward in the car line 2 helpless hours away from my mom, I dialed a friend who lives just outside of Moore who confirmed the severity of the situation all the while trying not to alarm me. He was already headed toward Moore to see what he could do to help and offered to check on my mom.

JJ stepped into the car and as we headed for home I explained what was going on. Dread and concern trickled in with each passing moment of no call back. I decided to try calling her, although I knew even if she were safe the phone lines were likely down. To my surprise, she answered! In all my years I had never heard such distress in her tone, but I was just so relieved to hear her voice I didn’t care what words she spoke. I asked what happened. “Oh, Steph, it hit my house. All my windows are blown out. There’s mud and debris everywhere. I don’t know what to do, what do I do? This is awful! I wonder if someone can come…?” I made sure she wasn’t hurt and then assured her that someone would get to her soon, just hang tight and be careful about walking around. I asked about the roof. “I don’t know. I haven’t even been outside. I’m going to go see, I’ll call you later.” Click. 

Later she recounted that when the tornado barged in the front door and ransacked the place, she prayed aloud and used every ounce of her strength to keep the closet door pulled shut because the force of the suction was so strong. She compared the sound of the wind to that of fighter jets zooming right past at close range. As far as damage, the roof was completely lifted off but set right back down about 3 inches away from where it was supposed to be. Flying debris punctured several holes in the roof and the walls both inside and out. Bricks had fallen off the house. Windows were busted and blinds were mangled. The garage door twisted and blew in. Broken glass, insulation, and splintered wood littered the ground inside and out. Yet the house still stood, and strangely most of her belongings remained in place.

The same was not true for any of the homes around her. Next door on both sides and across the street, the homes were reduced to heaps of rubble and maybe a few 2X4s still standing. Their walls came crashing down and the roofs have disappeared. The house diagonal from her was identical to hers and had the whole 2nd story, carpet and all, ripped away and thrown who knows where. But her house put up a fight. 

Split personalities are warring within me, and vying for attention:

The sentimental sap in me just can’t help but be devastated at the thought that 800 S. Bouziden as I know it, is history. Even though it stands, it’s too badly wounded to survive. Nearly every childhood memory I have is tied up in those walls. My mama poured her heart and soul into making that house a home, not only for us kids, but for all of our friends, our kids and their friends, our extended family on both sides, and even perfect strangers. 800 S. Bouziden was the central gathering place for holidays and special occasions, a safe and secure place to go when you were struggling. Always good food to eat, a soft clean bed to sleep in, and conversation for as long as you could keep your eyes open. She took care of that house as if it were a living being. Looking back now, I like to imagine that it did actually come alive just long enough to show its appreciation for all the years of her TLC. It’s almost as if the walls themselves somehow absorbed the overflow of love poured into the all the folks that came and went over the years, and used the strength of that love to stand up against the winds that tried to claim it. Only after that F5 tornado tapered off and vanished back into the clouds did the house quietly relent to its wounds. It wasn't about to let that monster claim my mom's life, and it certainly wasn't going to let the bastard have the satisfaction of seeing it die. 

The child of God in me realizes that the house and everything in it is just stuff. The house doesn’t have feelings, it’s not a person. It was not a living spirit-house of love that provided a hedge of protection around my mom that day. It takes little more than a quick glance down Bouziden Drive to own the fact that God himself protected her. But in making such a bold statement, a troubling question surfaces: why did God provide a hedge of protection around my mom and thousands of others and yet remove His protection from 24 other helpless individuals that day? How heartlessly presumptuous would it be to assert for any moment that my mom had more faith, loved more, or that she/her house/her emotional investment was stronger than anyone else's? We certainly can’t say that God was on her side but not on the side of the 24 others, because the Bible tells us for any of those 24 who are in Christ, “to live is to die and to die is gain.” The bottom line is that it just wasn't her appointed time to go yet, so God protected her. There remains a purpose for her life here on earth. But the sobering truth is that her appointed time WILL come someday, as it will for all of us.

From the moment we draw our first breath, death begins to pursue us, much like this inescapable tornado. We don’t know when, where, or how it will happen. Even if we can see it coming, we can’t stop it from happening. We can't hide behind any of the stuff we accumulate when it comes for us, and we can’t take any of it with us when we go… not even our own bodies. When death has come, we are left with a bare naked, fully exposed soul, and nothing more. Personally, I hesitate to genuinely examine my own heart, but when I do, I can think of nothing scarier than my fully exposed soul. Lay that soul out before a human judge and I’d no doubt crumble with shame. Without an attorney with exceptional credentials to plead on my behalf, I shudder at the idea of any portion of my soul laid out to be judged by God. My heart runs to Jesus with even more desperation at this thought. The Judge’s SON, he's my attorney. It's so sweet to trust in Jesus, just to take him at his word that he died and rose to save souls. And that my soul, the only thing I’ll have left when it’s all over, is safe and secure, and can never be separated from him. 

The May 20th tornado stole my childhood home. 
Even so…  it is well, it is well with my SOUL.