the end and the beginning

It is New Years Eve. It is 10:25 pm. Andy, exhausted from a long week of work,  is already asleep on the couch, Evie is singing in her bed, I am reading a book and feeling utterly miserable, my body wracked by this illness that saps me of strength and hope.

I should climb on my soapbox. I should sing praises to the Lord. I should cheer myself on with promises of God's faithfulness, words of courage and hope.

I should, yes, but I can't. I simply haven't any more than sheer determination to make it past this minute and on to the next.

Oh Lord, please help me.



New Years Eve. A day to recall what has been and look forward to what will be. Tears. Laughter. Resolutions. A day to lace up your tennis shoes and prepare to run headlong into the mystery and newness of a fresh start.

To write on the first page of a new notebook. To sink your teeth into the shiny, red skin of a fresh picked apple. The first day of school. To wake up in the morning and open your eyes. To hold, for the first time, the new life that made you a mommy. To try something you've never tried before. To make a plan and set goals.

Who doesn't love a fresh start? In that moment, we feel empowered, hopeful, ready to take on the challenge of change without feeling hindered or defined by our past experiences. God's power seems very tangible.

And then...

As fallen creatures living in a fallen world, inevitably, we will fall. But this is not the end of the story. God, in His infinite wisdom, knows our frailty. He does not watch us fall and laugh at our inability to accomplish what we resolutely attempt. He comforts us in our weakness and covers us with mercy.  His mercies are perfectly, wonderfully brand new every single morning of our lives. He will strengthen us and fill us with hope for the journey.

Fresh snow is falling outside. It veils the bare, drab ground with a covering of pure white. How sweet it is for God to give us a visible picture of His beautiful handiwork as we begin 2012.

"To look up and not down, that is Faith;

  to look forward and not back, that is Hope;

  and then to look out and not in, that is Love."

-Edward Everett Hale

holiday cheer

Where has the time gone? If you find it, please let me know. I've been looking everywhere for it!

This past month has been a whirlwind of celebrating, preparing to celebrate and delighting in the magic of the season through the sparkling little eyes of a 2 year old. Nothing filled my heart with Christmas cheer more than every time I drove my car after dark and listened to the screams of delight from the backseat as we passed by houses decorated with lights."CHRISTMAS!!," she screamed.  It made me laugh every single time she saw "Santa Claus" and called him Noah (because she loves the story of "Noah and the Ark" and Noah has a long white beard in the pictures, so this long, white bearded man must certainly be him!). I loved the holiday baking (but felt bad feeding people such unhealthy food!), the shopping ($100 goes a long way if you get creative!), the music (with the exception of a few songs...don't get me started!), the decorations (I'm a kid at heart too, I guess!) and the warmer weather (I'm probably in the minority here, most of you dream of a white Christmas).

Never mind that most of those days have been some of the most physically challenging for me. God's timing is perfect. In the midst of my worst of days was the joy of Jesus birth and the wide-eyed wonderment of my precious little girl. And, as if these blessings weren't enough, God gave me the gift of a tender, patient husband, a mom and dad who give selflessly of themselves to help me, and the opportunity to spend some sweet time with my sister and her family who drove up from Arkansas to celebrate Christmas with us.

"Joy to the world, the Lord has come!"

children, cranberries and courage

Why don't tired children embrace sleep? As I type, my very tired child is jumping in her bed and singing a merry tune. Quite soon I may hear the sound of a blanket, stuffed animal and baby Lola being dumped overboard. If I hear a "mommy!" I know to come quick, this means that clothes have or are about to be removed.

We've all heard of the terrible twos. That (hopefully) brief span of a small child's life when parents wonder who swapped their sweet little baby with this...creature. I will admit, I thought it was a farce until my sweet little baby transitioned into that...creature. Her beautiful cherub face, a smile brighter than any Christmas tree and a will stronger than steel.

All is not lost. There are still those little moments when I see glimpses of her sweetness and her silly self. Like when we're driving in the car and she chatters on with the snowman window cling in her hand, speaking for the snowman as he has no voice. Snowman,"Hi. I'm a snowman. Can I come to Evie's house?" Evie, "Oh yes, snowman, you can come over." Snowman, "Can I stick to your window in your bedroom?" Evie, "Yes, you can." and then she says to me, "Mom, the snowman is coming over to stick on my window." Or as I rock her before bed and she whispers little memories of the day. Or when she runs up to give me a squeeze hug and plant a noisy kiss on my lips and then tries to pull handfulls of my hair out by the roots...

I wonder, Lord, am I equipped for this? Can I teach this little girl about You and show her how to love You and know You and obey? Am I going to mess this up?  How do I teach her truth?  How can I know if I'm doing the right thing when she keeps right on being just as naughty? How can she find so many things to get into? How many spankings can one child get in a day?  Help!

Cranberries!

I just had to find a way to insert cranberries in here. Here's why: #1-I have a thing for cranberries. I just finished eating a cranberry smoothie so I'm thinking about them right now. #2 They start with "c" just like children and courage, and I think they tie things together quite nicely. #3 Because they are red and red is a pretty color.

I've just returned from a trip to the little one's room. I left some stern words there for her to think about. She didn't think about them for long. I can already hear the sounds of jumping and singing again. I hear a great sigh (oh wait, that was me)

Crisis averted! I heard a "mommy! I'm poopy!" and discovered a pantless, but not diaperless, poopy diapered child. Diaper changed and baby is laying back in her bed...for now.

I pray each day for the heart of my little girl. That she will learn obedience. That she will grow to see her sinful heart and be captured by Jesus. That she will be strong and courageous for the truth of the gospel.

I pray for my own heart. That I will be tender, patient and selfless. That I will be faithful to follow Christ so that my life teaches my daughter how to live well. That I will be strong and courageous for the truth of the gospel.

God hears the prayer of my heart.

I press on in courage, thankful for the cloud of witness who have gone before and share their wise words and encouragement. They testify, to those who follow, of God's great mercy. And I press on in joy at the sweetness of those moments that are only ours for a short while. Little children are not little for very long.

"Having a 2 year old is like having a blender that you don't have the top for." Jerry Seinfeld

courage

I have been working, for some time, on a post about courage. They all started out with a few flowery sentences but trailed off into nothingness. But now, as I sit in the dark, alone on my couch at 2am and stare at circumstances that I simply cannot see relief from, I need to climb on my soapbox and tell myself a thing or two about courage. Because God IS doing something good in this and He will give me the strength and courage to endure.

Somtimes, I have to write to remind myself of what is true because my feelings and my fears are telling me something different.

I think about courage quite often. I wonder what courage looks like, tastes like, feels like. It is significant, I know this. God talks about being strong and courageous. And so it must be that if He offers the challenge, He will also give us the necessary courage to stand in its face (and maybe even push back).

Courage pushes the needle through the fabric and presses on to make something good and beautiful out of something ordinary or impossible. It is the heartbeat in a challenge. It is beauty in ashes. It is quietness and strength in the face of the unknown. It is speaking up for truth. It is being who God made you to be.

It is endurance with hope when one sits on the couch in misery at 2am.

Take heart!

"Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid or tremble at them. For the Lord your God is the One who goes with you. He will not fail you or forsake you." Deutoronomy 31: 5-7

celebrate

November 8, 2011

"I am unpacking the party box. It's time to celebrate! After an very unpleasant spell, I was blessed with a season of feeling good again. And for this, I put on my party hat and sing!" 

November 11, 2011

I never had a chance to finish that post. It would have been filled with colorful streamers, shiny yellow balloons and toe tapping music. I wanted you to dance with me in celebration of good days. They are a gift...rare and precious though they be.

Today, the sun is shining brightly. Evie and I basked in it's rays and breathed in the freshness of the fall air as we played at the park  this morning. Is there anything so exciting as a trip to the park?  Life, through the eyes of a 2 year old, is something to be celebrated. Just the thought of a trip to the park threw her into an inexpressible delight. She exclaimed "park!" several times before galloping around on her imaginary steed who gave his sign of approval in the, "nay her her!" she expressed for him. We bundled up and drove to a new park. I think she was a little saddened that the park was empty when we arrived, but she felt better after deciding that the children were all "at work" and would join her later. We were joined, for a bit, by 4 year old Sophie and her grandpa. Sophie chattered away and Evie followed her all around. Often it seems, Evie loses herself in wonderment of other children. What is her little mind thinking? I knew what it was thinking as we tried to leave the park. Her tears told me that. But, we tell the park that we will come visit it again soon and it helps...somewhat.

I started my day on a rough note. When the veil of sleep lifted and I was aware of the day and the all too familiar manifestations of my mysterious unwellness I didn't think hopeful thoughts. But, in the stillness, the Lord spoke to me through His Word. I took the words of Psalm 71 and asked the Lord to help me to be consumed with Him today.

"14-But, as for me I will hope continually,
and will praise you yet more and more.
15-My mouth shall tell of your righteousness
and your salvation all day long;
for I do not know the sum of them.
16-I will come with the mighty deeds of the Lord God;
I will make mention of your righteousness, Yours alone."

And in His mighty deeds and His tenderness, He answered my prayer.

Great is our God!

I am unpacking the party box. It's time to celebrate! For in this life, though full of uncertainties and trouble, we can find great, inexpressible joy in the righteousness, salvation and mighty deeds of our God. I will lift up my hands and sing for my heart is full of praise!

tower of courage

No, I don't have the dates wrong. I know that halloween was actually yesterday. But yesterday, I only had enough time to start and not to finish, so... please pretend that it's halloween and it's beautiful out and whatever else makes you feel like you are reading this yesterday.

Today was halloween. It was also a lovely day. A fine combination. Made me want to curl up in a chair and nap. Not what you expected, I'm sure. But hey, I was tired!

Joyce came over this afternoon. She and Evie made a barn out of wooden blocks on the living room floor and filled it with farm animals. They were enjoying the day together before it was time to "trick-ter-treat" (as said by Evie). They were happy. I was happy. Supper was happily bubbling away on the stove. Andy was happily cleaning up leaves in the yard. My hair looked good. My sister got the package that I had mailed to her. There was happiness all around.

All of a sudden, there came a different sound from the living room. Joyce telling Evie to "stop it!"

Typically, I try to let them figure things out for themselves. But, trying to keep the "happy" up in our house, I stepped in to take a look. There was Evie, taking the blocks from their farm-ation and making a tall tower.

"What's wrong," I asked Joyce. "Evie is making a tower with the blocks," she said, " and it might fall down!"  I assured her that a falling block tower would not pose a threat to either of them and she agreed, relieved that they faced no danger in this new game.

As I headed back into the kitchen the wheels of my mind began to turn, thinking about the story that I had just witnessed and the relevance it had on real life. How many of us sit back in fear afraid to "stack a few blocks" because they "might fall down"?

What would life look like if you took a few blocks and started a tower? What if the tower didn't fall down? What if the tower did fall down? What if you felt free and empowered and full of PEACE? What if God is calling you to step out and do something that you are telling yourself is too scary to try? What if...good things came of pressing into fear?

I love to watch people who dream of big towers. They aren't paralyzed at the mere thought of falling blocks. Courage rises out of a pile of rubble and pushes them to dream of a higher, fancier tower.

A tower of courage begins with one single block.


"Strength and dignity are her clothing, she smiles at the future." Proberbs 31:25

a tribute to a true heart

It was a year ago, an autumn day, when we met. Feeling as if all hope was lost and I was half gone already, I looked for help. She took my hand.

I put on my shoes.We started walking. It was slow going at first but climbing out of a deep pit doesn't happen instantly. This would take endurance. I prayed for a miracle. Through her words, God answered me. She told me that God was doing good things in this journey and there was a purpose in each step.

I leaned in to her strength and wisdom. When I felt as if I could not take another step she sat me down and let me rest awhile, cheering me on for the steps that I had taken. She showed me pictures of her own story, the very reasons that she knew how to hope in despair.

Along the way, she introduced me to a new friend. A hippo named Courage. He's a quiet little hippo, but in his presence is a strength that I take hold of and carry on.

It seemed as if life was finally starting to look like something worth living well. I felt as if joy was bubbling up out of the well of my heart that had once contained despair. My legs felt stronger and my burdens felt light. I was full of dreams. Being me felt good.

And then one day... the sort of day that lurks in the back of your mind, she let go. I had always thought that it would be I who cut the boat free from the dock. In a strange twist of God's mysterious will, the dock was pulled in. She let go of my hand. She was moving on. I think my heart fell out of my chest for a minute, but in the strength of my newly discovered courage my despair melted. In it's place was a peace and hope that I had not known for a long while.

My unaided boat felt sure and steady in the uncertain waters at first. It seemed as if the fruits of the past year of labor were delicious and sweet. And then, the storm resumed.  And here I sit, trying to remember what this bag of tools contains and what each one should be used for. Courage cheers me on.

I cannot. I will not give up.

And for this, I give my deepest gratitude in tribute to a true heart.

Jesus

In the stillness of the morning, as the day slowly crawls out of her slumber, I find a rare and precious jewel in moments spent at the feet of Jesus.

After a night in which I woke up and thought through an upcoming event with great dread, it feels peaceful beyond comprehension to pour out my heart before my God and to listen to His voice through Scripture. To discover a new perspective, a hopeful perspective. To listen to God instruct my wicked, sinful heart in His gospel and grace.

I was reminded of a recent encounter with God. In an elevator with a woman who, and we could all make our own judgements, looked as though she had not cared for herself well. I don't remember exactly what I thought, but, knowing myself well, I know that my initial thoughts were not grace filled. And then, God spoke to my heart. He said, "Sara, I love her. Just as much as I love you. I made her and I love her." I was in wonderment at His voice. I still am.

How I long to be more like Jesus. To allow Him to flow in and through me. To be completely submitted to His will in all things. Overflowing with "grace upon grace" (John 1:16) and the gospel.

Nothing so wonderful happens quickly, but in the stillness, in the darkness, in the heartache, in whatever God has to use to soften and shape my stubborn heart.

And now the day begins...the sound of a busy 2 year old singing "mama," breakfast to make, floors to vacuum, laundry to be folded, laughs to be laughed, games to be played and Jesus to be glorified.

"This book of the law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it; for then you will be make your way prosperous, and then you will have success. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed , for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." Joshua 1: 8-9

A day in the life of...

I love looking at the world through the eyes of my sweet, Evie. She breathes life into mine as she finds wonder in the ordinary and everyday. She jumps around and shrieks with delight at the mere thought of a trip to the farm, the park or Grandma's house.

It's amazing to me how much energy is contained inside such a little person. She can scale an armchair or climb into her crib in no time flat. She uses her bed as a trampoline until  I pick her up. She can run away and hide behind racks in a store in the blink of an eye.Try taking her to a new, un-Evie proofed house...disaster! I am quite sure that she wakes up every morning with a mission. A mission to see how quickly she can create a mess of epic porportions. Every day I'm amazed at how much stuff she can tuck into her baby stroller before she dashes around the house with it. Her little hands are lightning bolts- reaching from the cart or stroller to the merchandise on the shelf beside her. She's dangerous!

The little wheels in her mind are constantly turning. The things that come out of her mouth are, no doubt, often inspired by something she has seen or heard. I wonder what makes certain things she sees or hears so remarkable that she stores them up for those moments when she spouts them out. It's then, often caught off guard, I try to track her train of thought and work with it while my heart laughs. Often, the laughter cannot be contained and, as she hears the sound of it, she gives in to the merriment of the moment and we share it together.

She's recently discovered emotions and how to communicate them. When she is distressed, most often in a tantrum sort of distressed, she tells me that she's sad or crying. If I find her doubled over in peals of laughter she tells me "'I'm laughing, mom." Ask her to smile for a picture and she dons on a toothy, comical grin. Her eyes also tell the story of her heart. It is quite clear when she is set on disobedience, feeling sleepy or wanting something. What a picture those little eyes paint. It's interesting to watch as she discovers her own heart.

I wonder what Evie sees when she looks at me. I think it is the hope of every mother's heart to model a Christ-like life...full of compassion, grace, joy and courage. Do I inspire her to live life with abandon, relishing the joy of every moment? I think, perhaps, that she opens my heart to that. We work together. I as her comfort, teacher,cheerleader and nurturer. She as the sparkler that smothers me with kisses, surprises me with funny words and opens my eyes up to see the wonder in the world around me.

I love that she loves life. It inspires me to see the magic of the ordinary.

dream a little dream

Close your eyes, pull out your imagination and dream with me. Dream of a beautiful day and love...

It's fall. The kind of fall day that memories are made of. And there you are. Smiling because you are feeling the warm sun on your skin, laughing because your heart is as light as the millions of brillant leaves dancing above your head and full of peace because your hand is firmly held in the strong grasp of your love.

No words are spoken. You take in the heady sound of God's creation praising Him. The melodies of birds, the wind moving through the woods, the squirrel's clicky voices , the crunching of leaves beneath your feet. Sounds unmatched by anything man has made. Your heart worships along, exulting the Creator of all things.

In this place you feel rest. No expectations. The fear, that often consumes you, is no where to be found. In it's place is sheer delight. You dance as if your feet are wings. Laughter bubbles from the spring of your heart. He sings love into your ear. 

It feels like a miracle. A moment that you will relive over and over in real life. A quiet spot to let your mind rest from the cares of the days and the torments of the enemy.

These are good days. A day to love. A day to dream...

masterpiece

As the artist stares at the blank canvas his mind sees the picture that his hand will create. He thinks in color and detail. Gathering paint on the bristles, he moves the brush over the canvas with confident strokes. For the beauty that only he could imagine is now becoming a masterpiece for all to see.

I am not that artist. So, I take the alphabet and use it as the artist does his brush, composing a picture that takes an imagination to see. I think in pictures, so I write in pictures.

God made us all so unique. We are His masterpieces, human beings created in His mind, formed in His image, skillfully designed and knit together by His hands. He is the master artist. I marvel at His work.  Individuals who are so different and yet much the same. Nature around us displays more of God's creativity. Impeccable. Breathtaking. Inexpressible and full of His glory.

God made me. He fashioned me from dust into a living, breathing creature that thinks, dreams and loves. He made me uniquely, in a way that only He can understand.  He knows my days. He knows my heart and speaks tenderly to it. In my weakness and failure He alone is my strength and hope.

I love when life is efficient. I love to write out my list of errands so that my drive takes me in a complete circle without backtracking or retracing my steps. I love when things make sense. I try to find a pattern in life so that I can make my decisions based upon the proof of what has or has not worked. Faith does not come naturally to me. Yet, I really love the joy I experience when I place my my logical and fearful mind into the hands of my ever faithful, all knowing Creator. It is then that I can start to see the masterful and deliberate workings in my circumstances as markings of an artist at work.

God is the artist of my life. He knows the finished product that the brushstrokes of my existence will create. He saw the end before I even began.  And he continues to create each day of my life as part of something that will become even more beautiful.

"O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up.
You understand my thoughts from afar.
You scrutinize my path and my lying down and are intimately acquainted with all my ways.
Even before there is a word on my tongue, O Lord, You know it all.
You have enclosed me behind and before, and laid Your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, it is too high, I cannot attain to it....
I will give thanks to you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are Your works and my soul knows it very well."  Psalm 139:1-6,14

in everything

My hands are wrapped around a hot mug full of tea. For mid-September, it is chilly, the sort of chilly that bites straight through to your bones. I wonder how I might make it through the coming seasons alive.

Such a mix of emotions the past few weeks have been. I have been feeling so poorly for days, with the exception of last Saturday and today (which unfortunately, caused me great delight and I ate waaay too much dinner, ugh). Feeling poorly is, to me, like a vacuum inserted straight into my brain. It sucks all of the hope right out and leaves me in a state of mere existance. In the thick of it, my little brother went and got married. I must admit, I'm not typically one for change, and this was certainly was a big change. His new wife is a lovely girl, but I simply cannot wrap my mind around how quickly the years pass and that the little brother that I used to buy beanie babies for every Friday is now a happily married man. I will adjust, of course I will, please be patient with me. And lastly, I have come to a new realization that we, as human beings, are all broken people living in a broken world. This theory was very much proved as I have watched people, who have long lived on pedestals in the palace of my mind, disappoint me. It's bound to happen, for they are as human as I. But, as the blissful shades of ignorance have been lifted from my eyes I stand and stare in disbelief. Never can we imagine the days our hearts will be broken or changed...

I love that as I sit here, I can hear Evie singing her little heart out from her bed. Twinkle, twinkle little star...(looong pause)...how I wonder what you are...(quiet chattering)....twinkle twinkle little star...(yawn)....(silence). She speaks in music...whether she is singing a song or just telling a story. The sound of her voice is a melody.

Despite the wild ride on the emotional rollercoaster of the past few weeks, all hope has not been lost. In the thick of it all have found a sweetness in the presence of my Savior. He speaks peace and hope to my heart as I despair about feeling as if the next breath may be my last or wondering where I might find the strength to press on. He reminded me that He is being glorified in what I do not understand and that He is so near and so gracious to give me more of Himself as I press into Him. Feeling sick makes the rest of life so much more difficult and yet, I did not make a trip to the depths of despair, a place that I have spent quite a bit of time in over the past 2 years. It was just life...take it or leave it. A twist and turn that were instrumental to God in making a more Christlike me. And on this side of yesterday, I can say that I am thankful, although I should probably say that in the today of yesterday I was thankful too (but, I know that might be stretching things a bit).

I should know  better than to sit down at a computer without a clear sense of direction. I have a few pictures, that my mind has woven together in words, but, without a clear map I diverted to giving a snapshot of regular old life. But, if only to remind myself that God showed up wildly wonderfully in regular old life, all might not have been lost.

"Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanksl for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

in the secret

It's strange how even the most beautiful of external circumstances cannot touch the innermost part of the heart sometimes. How the mind and body can be at war with each other. It seems as if our hearts and our heads speak a different language.

Such mysteries they are to me.

The wind is blowing through the trees...rustling the leaves of the oak and birch, softly rushing through the evergreens and gently tossing the branches of the giant white pine so that the needles dance almost silently above the rest. Soft white clouds are scattered across the giant blue expanse. White caps and the boats tied to the dock are skipping about like newborn calves in the spring. The bright sunshine wraps us all in it's golden cloak. It's so beautiful.

These are the sort of moments that take my breath away. In these places I am filled with hope and a keen sense of God's hand in what I see and feel. And in the overwhelming wonder of it all, I usually find a little extra wonderful that I tuck away for a rainy day. As the drops fall from the gray clouds I close my eyes and revisit the sights and sounds of this, willing myself to remember that all is not lost to the dark. Hope will return.

But, somehow, today I cannot find that peacefullness. The wind does not whisper sweet nothings to my heart. The dancing leaves and pine boughs do not make me laugh with their wild cavortings. The cloak of the sun does not warm my skin. Why does the music of the day fall on my ears as if they are deaf? I grieve the loss of wonder in the moment and the extra gift I cannot find to tuck away. Is it the world around me or my heart that communicates differently?

All is not lost. I am not unaware of the beauty surrounding me and the sweetnes of the lake air. Comforting me in the night is the haunting cry of the loon. In the place of the usual bustle of cars and buildings is the quiet peacefullness of God's remarkable creation. I am exactly where I want to be.

Oh quiet heart, please return to me.

last laugh

It has been a good day.

This morning arrived on the sound of gentle raindrops dancing across the leaves outside my window. It was delightfully dreamy, but the busyness of the day called to me and I answered its call. Sliding my feet from between the soft, red sheets I plodded into the day with my eyes half shut. No time for drinking in the beauty of simplicity in the quietness, on the table was a long list that pulled my mind and body in different directions.

A few hours into my day, and after wishing that I had taken some quiet moments with Jesus before I started in on the day, I stood in the kitchen defeated. My pancakes were burnt, my long list seemed to have grown longer overnight, my heart was frustrated, my toddler was crying, my husband was annoyed. I was quite sure that the enemy of my soul was taking delight in this discord and the joylessness of my heart. Convinced that the rest of the day was completely ruined, I sat down with a piece of peanut butter toast (my burnt pancake replacement) at the table with my family and let out a great sigh.

Never one to let my heart wallow in the mire of sadness for long, my dear husband found lightness and joy in our little breakfast. He is the master of sound effects and helped Evie eat bite after bite of cows, chainsaws and bumblebees. He teased me about me. He laughed in the face of frustration and unmet expectation with confidence. And he invited me to sit back and enjoy the ride I hopped on when I climbed out of bed this morning- the ride called "today."

And then the day unfolded...more busyness, laughter, reponsibilities, tiredness, conversation, meals, family, the clever words and the singong voice of a 2 year old and the haunting cries of loons across the lake. And here we are, watching Don Knotts climb the staircase in  a haunted mansion as Kyle snores on the floor at my feet. And as the darkness settles in around me I smile as I enjoy the last laugh.

sweet things

I love summer. I love summer so much that I would want to marry it (if I wasn't already taken, that is).

Summer is...the sounds of life floating in my open window on a warm breeze, the smell of sunshine on my baby's skin, walking barefoot through the grass, beads of water dancing on flower petals in my garden, vegetables fresh from the vine and warm from the sun, the taste of lemonade, laundry hanging on the line, butterflies, driving with my windows down and the wind in my hair. It is beauty for all I touch, taste, see and hear.

And so August arrives. I fight my inclination to let the days slip away in my mind, to feel a sense of dread at the coming seasons. How I long to live in the moment, to take today for what it is...the sound of cicadas, warm breeze, the green leaves covering the place above which I sit. To hold on to today and live it to the fullest. I will climb on my soapbox and preach to myself. Don't waste today worrying about tomorrow. Tomorrow will come regardless of whether or not I think about it. Might as well just make do with today and let tomorrow worry about itself.

Evie sleeps and I close my eyes...daydream of the loveliness of today and the beauty of the world with my sister in it. She is visiting, from a land far far away, and I'm just trying to soak in every minute. Days with her make the sweet days of summer even sweeter...

opposites

When God closes a door sometimes He closes the window and latches it tightly. A walk around the house reveals that every other window is latched tightly. During that walk around the house I trip on a rug and sprain my ankle. I hobble over to a chair and try to and make sense of what simply was going to be a visit with a friend....

This morning, I was blessed with a few moments to myself before the day began. God gently invited me to sit at His feet. I asked Him to encourage me..I have felt so worn and weary. He opened His word and showed me verses that described my wicked heart. "God has looked down from heaven upon the sons of men to see if there is anyone who understands, who seeks after God. Every one of them has turned aside; together they have become corrupt, there is no one who does good not even one." Psalm 53:2-3. Indirectly, they were encouragement I needed. For even when my body is worn my heart can rest and rejoice in the greatness of being saved from itself. I know it is truth, even when it does "feel" as marvelously true as I it is. I asked God to use these truths throughout the day to continue to teach me.

I do not understand God, and I never will. His ways are much higher than mine. I cannot decipher his workings with a mystery decoder ring.  I am simply asked to just trust and obey. To trust that God's love and forgiveness have washed over me and He has covered my sinful heart with His righteousness. To trust that His love is everlasting and He will never leave or forsake me. To trust that He is orchestrating the events of my life for my good and His glory. To trust that He is my portion and He is enough. Through that trust, I am called to obey. To obey with the joy and abandon of a child who rushes headlong into life fully trusting that her parents will take care of the necessaries. She need only live...and let someone else carry the worries.

"But as for me, I am like a green olive tree in the house of God; I trust in the lovingkindness of God forever and ever. I will give You thanks forever, because you have done it, and I will wait on Your name, for it is good,  in the presence of your godly ones." Psalms 52: 8-9

Mothers

There is something inside of me that melts every time I see that little face.

How sweet it was to be handed a card this morning with colored "words" on the left side that daddy had to translate into English on the right side. It made my heart skip a beat to read sweet things about being the best mommy ever. I don't know if I'm the best mommy ever...but I will spend my life trying. How I desire to proclaim God's love as I cook meals, clean up messes, change diapers, snuggle, clean up scraped knees, laugh and play.

I am blessed beyond words to have been raised and loved by a mother who selflessly serves. She lives her life in service to all those around her, asking nothing in return. I see in her heart a true greatness and beauty that cannot be measured by any earthly standard. She is a treasure and I am proud to call her my mother...and my friend.

Happy Mothers Day to you!

Legacy

Sometimes even the smallest of things can trigger memories...like this morning, at 4 am, as I was up with a sad little baby and brought a very stinky diaper outside to the garbage. I love the morning, maybe not quite so early, but being up early and breathing in the outside air brought me back....back to trips with Grandma when she woke us up by 4 so we could leave by 5 am. Watching her make egg or tuna salad (with olives-not my favorite), packing the car, praying and hitting the road. Before most people even opened their eyes, we were on our way. Lemon drops in the console, hymns on the radio, the water thermos, restaurant food, homeopathy to cure anything that ailed me...I loved those trips.

How I loved my Grandma...from my earliest memories of growing up at her house, the tablecloths, the basement full of toys, chocolate covered ice cream pops, the organ, watching her whip up batch of candied orange peels or a meal for 20...she was a strong woman.I remember her putting me down for naps and assuring her that I wasn't the least bit tired, but having her wake up me an hour later. I remember her sweet, flowery smell and her soft hands on my face. I also remember her being a little exasperated with me and wondering why...but as I watch my own little sweet girl move around like a tornado, I can fully understand. It's a wonder she didn't tie me to a chair!

I remember cake and ice cream after meeting to celebrate a birthday, the toys she kept in her purse to keep us busy during meeting, the sound of her voice as she sang, and the drawings of little forest creatures she would draw on scraps of paper. Listening to stories about Africa, the screenporch, melon salad and cake with lemon sauce, her sewing room, the flowery soaps in the downstairs bathroom at 321 and the feel of that carpet beneath my feet. If I close my eyes I can almost see the house and Grandma working in the kitchen...

Growing older and moving to Minnesota, we didn't see her as much, but I loved it when she, Grandpa and Aunt Joyce would visit. I remember feeling like a piece of my heart fell out when they left. I remember when Grandpa died and we all went back to Illinois for the funeral...watching Grandma fix Grandpa's hair and weep beside his casket. I don't remember her crying any other time really...

Living in Ohio for a few years during my 20's, I made several trips back to Illinois and always stayed with Grandma. Every time I had called to invite myself she would tell me that I was "as welcome as the sunshine." She made me feel that way. A cozy bed in the basement or the office, waking up to the smell of coffee cake and eggs, evenings of skip-bo amongst the flower garden on her deck and seeing her in her nightgown, her gnarled toes and her long hair braided to her waist as we all headed off to bed for the night. I always felt so happy there. 

A few years ago Grandma felt God was directing her to sell her home and move to Minnesota. Looking back, I can clearly see His hand in the story....despite the moments when she felt as if she doubted that. It was fun to have Grandma at our table for Sunday dinners, holidays and birthday parties again. I am so thankful that God gave us the joy of spending Grandma's last few years with her here. She wasn't a fan of the cold (who is?) but she made her home in a cozy little apartment with Joyce and their pet parakeet and busied about. Growing old was difficult for her...she fought for her health and her freedom. But, less than a year ago, it was necessary for her to move again...this time it was across the parking lot to Guardian Angels nursing home. I don't think she ever made peace with that...it wasn't her style to sit and not be the doer. A woman who had spent her life serving others wasn't happy in a chair, letting other people serve her. 

Evie and I loved our visits to see Grandma. Her face would light up and Evie would cuddle up in her lap...looking her necklace, asking to see her small stuffed kitties or they would just chat about things. They had a sweet bond and  I'm glad that the first 22 months of Evie's life were intertwined with moments in the arms of "Gate Neema." Evie's little smile breathed life into the little room and Grandma would forget all about the cares of the day for a while. And then, it would be time for Grandma to go to lunch. The nurse would wheel Grandma, with Evie perched on her lap, into the lunchroom. She sometimes talked about how nice it would be if we could stay and eat with her. Such good memories...

Last Friday, Evie and I made our final trip to see Grandma at the nursing home. She was so happy and Evie was being a pill. I think Grandma was a little concerned that her pretty things would be broken by my little tornado, but somehow we averted disaster. Evie rode down to lunch on Grandma's lap, she was the envy of all the other residents. Grandma saw the table set for 4 and asked us to stay, I wish we cold have...

This past Tuesday, Grandma was not feeling well and was brought to the hospital. She was very sick and ready to meet her Savior face to face. Joyce and I went to visit on Thursday afternoon to see her, hold her hand, tell her goodbye. Even in her bed, Grandma's face was still just as beautiful, her hair pulled back from her face so softly. Joyce and I held her hands and rubbed her shoulders. We told her we loved her and she told us that she loved us too and then she fell asleep. 

Grandma went home to be with Jesus moments later...peacefully.

Such an ache in my heart and yet such joy to know that she is whole and happy with her Lord. She is gone, but has left for me a legacy of faith and a lifetime of memories. 

Dear Blog

Dear Blog,

I am sorry for deserting you. The weather got really nice for a short while and I put my thoughts into my garden...working the soil, digging up lily bulbs, planting gladiolas, digging out my clematis. Then, the weather took a turn for the worse and winter returned. I've been wrapped up in a blanket counting my frustrations one by one ever since. Today, I broke free and went shopping. Retail therapy is good for me. I think I should try it more often. But, in the meanwhile (and as I save up for treatments), I think you and I should spend some more time together. You just sit there and take it all in...misspellings, poor grammar...how do you do it?

Thank you for always being there for me.

Love-
Floofie

lately

It has been a long winter here in the frozen north. A very long winter. So long, in fact, that we dumped out our piggy banks, used the $16.87 we collected to fill our gas tank and escaped town last Saturday. We simply could not help ourselves...we've had enough!

With our vast resources at our fingertips we decided to rent our own airplane. Andy's flight experience has consisted of 30 minutes in a 1940's era plane flying over the lovely city of Blaine. I've spent a few more hours in the sky, but couldn't see myself manning the controls with a busy toddler, so we rented a pilot too. The scenery was lovely as we headed west...the mountains...the lakes and rivers...the bustling towns. Our pilot  landed and we headed out to explore the land....

Well, so maybe didn't go west... we just drove a little south and went to the Bandana Square train museum. We had a fantastic time! I was amazed at the amount of detail they put into the displays. It made us feel as if we had escaped to another place for a while. Thank you, Lord, for little get-a-ways....

Andy's new, well not so new but more like recently revived, passion is model trains. He has transformed our humble downstairs guest room into a train-splosion- with a track that circles the room. It's still very much a guest room, in case you are needing a place to stay, but it's complete with entertainment now. No more counting spiders to fall asleep...now you can be lulled by the sound of tiny HO scale engines circling above your head. It's still a work in progress, but it looks really nice .It's been really fun to see Andy's creative side show up as he decorates his track. I will have to post some pictures when he is ready to show it off. Evie loves "tains" just like her daddy. When we see a real train she is very quick to point it out and shriek "toot toot!" Every day, when daddy gets home from work, they head downstairs to check up on things. Unfortunately, she loses interest in them pretty quickly and empties the bookshelf or storage closet.

Evie's new passions are making messes, getting in to things she should not be,carrying around as many purses and bags as her little arms can hold, smiling wildly, riding her tricycle and not taking naps. I think I was really used to her 3 hour sleep-a-thons and saved up all my to-dos for that time. I am needing to be more creative at figuring out ways to accomplish things while the little tornado whirls. She does enjoy cleaning with me and has recently been working to overcome her fear of the vacuum cleaner. I no longer have to hold her while the vacuum is on and she will willingly walk up and touch it. This is a big step.

She also likes to hoard. Her hidden treasures include: anything she can get her hands on. Andy calls her Templeton. We are hoping she grows out of this...

And me, well, I'm just trying to take life one day at a time. God has entrusted me with a precious family and a sickly body. I am trying to make the most of each, despite the fact that a sickly body can make each minute of a day feel like a deep dark hole. God is faithful and He has given me... the gift of a husband who faithfully and tenderly loves me in my weakness and my strengths, a daughter who makes my heart light (and my body tired-whew!) and wonderful family and friends who encourage and help me.

And so we're hoping that spring arrives in person...not just in name. In the meanwhile...I will dream of a place called Arkans-hot....

We put on our best "Evie" grins for the camera

nancy drew-itis

A good story is all I need...I have a good imagination and I'm not afraid to use it.

I have always loved a good book and through the years have found creative ways to incorporate a book in when I didn't like the alternative. I can remember reading "The Magic Kite" by flashlight while under a mound of covers at night. I think it was confiscated for a short while (during which I was dying to know what happened after they ran out of the magic glue!) and I might remember being told that I wasn't to read at night again, but I think I forgot it at the time. Homework was nicely spiced up by tucking a book somewhere close. It was very important to have a bookmark handy for these times- I had to work quick. And now, well, that basket of laundry can wait...

There are down sides to having a good imagination, though. "The Velveteen Rabbit" was a good read, but after it I was quite convinced that toys actually came alive at night. "Charlotte's Webb" made me believe that pigs, spiders and rats have real feelings. There were others too, which tugged at my heartstrings and opened my eyes...

Nancy Drew mysteries were my weakness. Once I opened the cover- I was hooked. No matter what the situation- she was perfect. No matter how scary or awful the mystery was- she could solve it. She always stayed perfectly calm, looked perfectly wonderful, drove the perfectly coolest car, could do anything more perfectly than anyone else...and through it all she escaped the bad guys and brought the mysteries to light. It's been a long time since I've opened the cover of a Nancy Drew mystery novel, and I really don't remember any of the mysteries she solved, but I still have Nancy Drew-itis. It's not a rare disorder...it just happens to go by other names too.

It seems logical to me that I should be able to tell my head that Nancy Drew is fictional. She's a relative of Betty Crocker. Her perfection is nothing more than a few good sounding words that somebody else dreamed up. But with those words, I've created a picture in my mind, for myself, that simply isn't...it isn't real, it isn't attainable. And yet, I strive...and stress...and ruin perfectly good things telling myself that "good" isn't "perfect." I will always disappoint myself.

A friend asked me to consider how I thought of myself...about the mistakes I thought God made when He created me. It sounds really sad to think of it that way...and yet, it's basically what I've been telling God and myself through my "need" for perfection. She challenged me to make a list of the gifts God has given me and to thank Him for them. It's a good place to start. I realize I need to figure out a healthy way to embrace God's design of me so that I can teach my daughter how wonderfully and marvelously He made her too. I can clearly see a masterpiece before my eyes in her...

My newest favorite books are biographies and other non-fiction stories. There seems to be more of a draw for me to see the inner workings of another person's heart and life instead of dreaming along with something that someone else thought up. Maybe it's time to pick up a little fiction and fire up my imagination...live in the moment, dream a little.

With book in hand she skipped off....

Haaa will be 2!

To Haaaa...
who patiently waited for me to be born and then cried with me when I entered the world
who showed me how to crawl, walk and eat
who shares her really cute clothes with me
whose pictures decorate my kitchen cupboard so I can see her sweet face every day
who gets a little scared when we play because I take all the toys
who I miss terribly because she lives so far away...

Happy Birthday to you my sweet cousin!
Love- Evie

grace

People are very interesting. We all have ideas, ways we do things, ways we think other people should do things...there are so many versions of "normal."

God is very creative....it intrigues me to think that He makes people in His image and yet we are all so vastly different- so interesting. 

I was one of those interesting people today. You know, one of those people you see as you are sitting at a stoplight and just happen to glance at the driver of the car beside you. I love to see what people do at stoplights...pick their nose, check their hair or makeup, stare straight ahead with both hands on the wheel. I was not doing any of those things- I was talking. I was talking out loud, with determination and conviction. I was doing a battle with the enemy. In the face of doubt, fear and discouragement I was proclaiming God's truths. God you are faithful! God you are sovereign! God you will not forsake me! God I can trust you! Sometimes the truth seems far more compelling if you speak it...throw it in the face of those doubts and fears.

I didn't even look beside me to see if I had an audience...but if I did, I'm sure it looked very entertaining. 

I had an experience with an interesting person, well a few persons, today. Evie and I made a stop at the local Salvation Army to check for bargains.Not much to be had today, although we were very impressed by the new layout. They could still use some help with pricing, but let's be patient...one improvement at a time. Our trip back to our car was much more exciting. A large pickup truck had parked behind me and a lady was standing beside my car staring at my bumper. She was pointing and talking to herself. Curious, and also because she was standing beside the door I needed to open to put Evie in her carseat, I came to see what the fuss was all about. There, pressing in my rear bumper, was a large hook thing from the front of the large truck. She muttered then waved for her husband to back up the car. Devoid of any expression, he stared straight ahead for a while before putting the car in drive and moving his truck (and my car) forward. Lots of arm waving now ( I think my arms might have waved too) and his truck stopped. It seemed a while before reverse was engaged and the giant hook was removed. The animated lady muttered about things being alright before licking her thumb and rubbing it over the dents in my bumper. She did not have magic thumbs (or spit) but thankfully, the bumper lost the large dimp and showed a few scratches. As I put Evie in her car seat, a fellow parking lot-ter came over to offer her assistance....how kind of her. I assured her we were fine...although I'm still not sure how true that is....

It's all those interesting things (and people) that can help make life laughable...laughter is a gift (and good medicine).

My mom has a saying on her fridge "people behave in a way that makes sense to them." How true that is...and perhaps a little convicting. God made us so different...and yet His love for us is unconditional and very much the same. It's easy to look at interesting people through my eyes and make judgements based on what I think. And that's where grace comes in...it's a one size fits all....

in the classroom of life...

Let's begin class with a pop quiz today...it's just one question- so answer carefully.

What is more challenging?
a) to experience suffering
b) to watch someone you love experience suffering
c) both a & b...at the same time
d) to eat green eggs and ham

I would venture to guess that this question either hits home with you right now or that you can very clearly recall a time you have already experienced this. (There is no right or wrong answer to this question...you passed the test)

I am lying on my couch today, thankful that my busy toddler is snug in her bed (filled to overflowing with stuffed animals...just as she likes it) fast asleep. It was a late night and an early morning for me so I'm sleepy today. Just as I laid my head on my pillow last night I was struck with a bad case of active-mind-itis which raged on until about 2:30 a.m.. This morning at 6:30, as the alarm sounded, I thought of how lovely it would be for that active-mind-itis to return and give me a little jolt to get up and out of bed. It didn't, but I still managed to pull myself out from under my snuggly covers to ready myself for the day (and the early test I had scheduled at the hospital). I did make it in time and ate a delicious bowl of radioactive eggs before snuggling up on a hard plastic table to lay still for 2 hours. It wasn't so bad- I made it. It's always after the test that gets me. "No side effects" means that I will probably feel awful for the rest of the day- which is proving true thus far.

It is really hard to watch someone that I love suffer. I think I've cried more tears for them then for me lately. I want to make it all better. But I can't...for the same God that allows my afflictions has allowed theirs. Rips my heart out...

My hope colored glasses fell off this morning...where did they go?

hope-colored glasses

A hand reaches out from under the warm covers and stretches toward the little table beside the bed. Patting the top gently, the hand knows exactly what its "feeling" for. The hand picks up....glasses. 

All of my days begin this way. Without my glasses- I'm hopeless. And when I put them on instantly I can see again. It's almost a miracle of sorts. I wonder what it must have felt like for those whom Jesus healed. They were blind, sick, desperate and in an instant- seeing, whole, joyful! 

Life has been a bit desperate and discouraging lately. I wish Jesus would come and touch the struggles and the hurts and heal them. We pray, fully trusting that God could change it all- but He doesn't. And so it becomes a perspective thing...where we have to pray that God gives us new eyes to look at the same situation. Not the false rosy glow of denial or self-reliance but the peace and joy of hope-colored glasses. 

What do hope-colored glasses look like?  I paint the picture in my mind...horn rimmed, pale pink, maybe a rhinestone or two. If I'm going to be wearing these things all the time I would like them to be cute and fun. I'm putting them on and taking a look in the mirror. Not bad, although I find it fascinating that they seem to keep my eyes focused upward. 

What changes through these lenses? 

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction (evidence) of things not seen."Heb 11:1

Being confident that what I know to be true about God IS really true- despite what my feelings or circumstances tell me...

"...and though you have not seen Him, you love Him, and though you do not see Him now, but believe in Him, you greatly rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory." 1 Peter 1:8

There is joy to be found in this dark and silent place because He IS here...

"...while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal but the things which are not seen are eternal." II Corinthians 4:18

I can raise my eyes above the hopelessness to see a God at work

"For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? But, if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it." Romans 8:24-25

If I know that God's gospel is true- I can trust that His promises are true.

"Now He who prepared us for this very purpose is God, who gave to us the Spirit as a pledge, therefore, being always of good courage, and knowing that while we are at home in the body we are absent from the Lord, for we walk by faith not by sight, we are of good courage." II Corinthians 5:5-7

I can close my eyes, put my hand in the hand of my Savior and step forward in full confidence...

I like the view from here. It's so against the nature of myself to see the unseen and feel hopeful about that. Jeepers, these glasses don't stay on very well -is it my design or just the nature of these sort of things? I'm holding them up...I can't let go for a second. But that's okay- I think it's the only way I'll see my way through this....

1-He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.

2-I will say to the Lord,"My refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust!"

3-For it his He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper and from the deadly pestilence

4-He will cover you with His pinions, and under His wings you may seek refuge; His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark...

15-He will call upon Me, and I will answer him, I will be with him in trouble; I will rescue him and honor him.

Psalms 91

mercy

One building. So many stories. Sitting in the family lounge with my mom I hear a lullaby play softly in the hall. The  lady sitting across the room from us talking about her dying mother in room 216 while a new life breaths it's first breath a few floors above us. Such sorrow and such amazement so close together.

We chat for a while. The poor lady talks about how she likes to cook, the day she lost her 21 year old son, her brother's health issues, the process of watching her mom pass on and how she wonders why life is so full of sorrow. She tells us how she is so confused about why we are even alive. "Couldn't we all just be spirits floating about without bodies that get sick and hurt and die?" We tell her about the amazingness of heaven- an eternity with God and how we need to know Jesus to get there. The suffering of this earth is not to be compared with the glory that lies ahead. But we don't know how to say more...to share the gospel. And so we talk more about life...and tell her that we are so thankful she shared her story with us. And she leaves to go back to room 216.

I still see her face in my mind and kick myself for not saying more.

A little time with Joyce before I leave. She is uncomfortable and sad that the dinner coming for her is not the one she wanted- but clear and liquid instead. She cries. I lean in and stroke her hair..telling her that I love her, that Evie loves her, that we are praying for her. "It's not fair!" No, sweetie...it's not.

Driving home...I think I could put my car on autopilot and it would take me too and from Mercy. I've come and gone but some people live there...at least for a while.

Home again...greeted with a warm embrace and by little girl who cries "Mama!" She dances about with her onesie unsnapped and hanging outside of her flowery pants. Daddy tells me that she looked that way when he picked her up from her nap. And such a nap it was...during which she managed to take apart her window shade.

I remember the day when the lullaby played softly for her...

be still

I read this verse to Joyce tonight. She was lying there in her hospital bed. I was standing beside her bed reading  aloud in the light of the bathroom with the door propped slightly open by a large garbage can. I read a few Psalms and we talked about certain verses that she liked. I felt a little bit like the catholic priest that I see walking the halls of Guardian Angels nursing home. I did not look the part but just felt a little odd standing beside a bed in the dark reading Scripture. It was good to read God's Word although it's not always comforting. Sometimes, in those dark times, you read about God's faithfulness but wonder why He is not showing up in the form of improvement or brightening up the darkness. It's hard to feel as if His presence is enough to bring comfort, although several verses I read spoke directly to that.

She lay there with her eyes closed, listening. I would stop between chapters and ask her what to read next. She offered ideas, some with stories about how her Mother read that to her during scary times. Poor dear looked pitiful swallowed up her her hospital gown, her hair pointing this way and that from being smushed against a pillow for the past 2 days. Her arm was marked from the blood pressure cuff that she wore in the ER when this whole mess began on Wednesday. Crystal, her soft, white stuffed kitty, was tucked in her arms, against her chest. She moaned about the pain in her stomach. It's been a long day for her and those taking care of her.

Finally, sleep came, and she breathed deeply, slowly, peacefully. I pray that my mom can do the same..

Be still.

hospital

The last few days have been a blur...unexpected, unpredictable, strangely amazing. God has worked good through what didn't feel very good at all.

Wednesday was a perfectly lovely day. The sun was warm, the snow mountains were melting, Evie's Valentines party was a success. The day was over before I knew it...time for bed. Around 11pm something suddenly didn't feel so right in my gut and I spent the rest of the night in agony. A call to the nurseline at 4:45 was the prompting I needed to get Andy and Evie up and make a trip to the Emergency Department. My mom agreed to watch Evie so after Andy dropped me off, he drove her up to Nama and Bampa's house. Evie was thrilled with how her day was beginning. Oh the bliss of childhood!

As true to any Emergency Department visit, it's all just a bunch of hurry up and wait. And wait we did...with the help of narcotics and anti-nausea medication. Some bloodwork, a CT and an Ultrasound later, our kind and compassionate doctor came and told us that despite the normal results of all my testing, he felt it was necessary that I be admitted. This was a huge answer to prayer. Alot of my previous experience with doctors has been a rather disappointing- if they don't see the problem, there simply isn't one. God gave us the gift of a doctor who saw beyond the test results to look for something that he wasn't finding. My tears of discouragement became tears of encouragement as I saw a glimmer of hope.

And then more waiting. My mom was with me at this point as Andy had taken Evie home to nap. Evelyn is a great napper, but only within her own 4 wooden walls. Finally, the admitting doctor came in and discussed the great mystery I was proving to be. So many normal test results. (sigh) It's rather funny to think that we would find much more comfort in a test result that showed a problem- no news is not good news in this case.

Many hours later I was moved to room 419, a room with a view and kind nurses. My mom, yes my mom, decided to have fun with the buttons on my bed and I found myself moving up and down and back and forth. I'd never realized just how high those beds could go! I was getting a little panicky that the doctor would come in and find me nearly pressed against the ceiling tiles, but she had me down just in time. It wasn't long before the physicians assistant came in. Kate was kind but full of questions but short on answers. She told us she would need to consult with the physician. Dr Allen came in next. He was middle aged, friendly and sort of resembled Donald Sutherland (with very pearly whites). Dr Allen was thoughtful, asked direct questions and continued looking at me after I finished saying things, digesting what I just said. People who think on the spot like that are a little unnerving to me, but I was glad that he was listening and hearing me. He went on to offer suggestions and ideas for new things to look for. He was not convinced that I have Celiac Disease, an idea that sounded wildly exciting. He wrote up a list of tests and headed out. We were elated- finally, someone was coming up with some ideas that sounded reasonable.

The afternoon was a bit of a blur...my nurse, crazy-Mary, vital checks, blood draws, phone calls and nothing to eat or drink. My mom left and Andy came back for a bit with a bag of necessities, just as I was devouring a grilled chicken breast with brown rice. I had also ordered green beans but they came looking a lot more like broccoli, which my stomach isn't very fond of, so I ate a stalk or two and left the rest. I was pleased that they let me eat- I was famished. Andy's visit was over before we knew it and I was alone. It felt very strange. I'm so used to a little toddler dancing around my legs, "talking" on her phone as I'm making dinner...the usual things. But, I was so thankful to be in a place where they might find some answers. I'm so very tired of feeling sick.

My evening ended with a visit from my dear friends, Michelle and Christina. We had originally scheduled a mom's night out at PF Changs for that evening and they kindly agreed to moved our gathering place from a tasty restaurant to room 419. It felt so good to laugh. Thank you Lord for good friends!

It's a good thing I don't have sleep issues...I had no trouble falling back asleep after being woken up every hour or two all night. Morning came early. After my 6am lab draw I sat up and watched the sunrise, listening to the tick-tock of the clock and the humming of my IV machine.It was so peaceful. I prayed, asking God to be so near- the past few months have been such a test of my faith. God was there, I knew it, but He has been so silent. His Word seemed like just words and my prayers felt like they just hit the ceiling and fell back down. It was a good quiet time. I was thankful for those moments to pray and reflect on how God had worked in the past 24 hours. And then I spent a little time "fixing" myself up...it wasn't pretty but slightly improved. Bedhead needs more than just a little fluffing!

More hurry up and wait and then, a trip to the procedure department to have my stomach scoped. It was my third scope, I wasn't scared but I should have been. I'm not sure why, but they decided to leave me quite awake. It's not a particularly pleasant experience to have a tube pushed down your throat and down into your stomach especially when you can feel it go down and then move like a small monster in your gut. A few biopsies and then we were done. Laying alone in the recovery room, I cried. Hungry, uncomfortable, a little scared and waking up from anesthesia. I just felt sad. A young aid came in to wheel me upstairs and saw my tears. He quietly went and found a tissue box which he handed to me.

The afternoon tick-tocked by...Andy was working and my mom was caring for Evie, so I was by myself. I left my door open so I could hear the sounds of life outside my door. My nurse, Amy, was hilarious and full of things to chat about. Between the TV, chatting with Amy and a phone call or two my afternoon passed. Around 4:30, they went over my discharge instructions and sent me on my way...oh how good it felt to walk without an IV pole and wear real clothes! On way down the hall I saw a sign and just happend to notice my
doctor's name on it, so I stopped to check it out. What a fantastic surprise to discover that God had allowed me to be there for such a time, Dr Allen is one of the top GI doctors in the state! What a surprise...what a miracle!

And so, the journey continues. I don't feel well, but I'm confident that God is in this and I can rest in Him. He knows my need, He holds my tears, and He cares for me.

to be continued....

will you be my valentine?

Evie hosted her first party today. She did a great job! Great snacks, fun toys, darling favors....she has the knack! Well, maybe I helped her a little bit...

Abby, Nathan, Anasatasia, Elizabeth, Evie

the regular

It's a regular day. A day filled with regular things, the regular people, regular tasks. And then, in a moment, you hear or see something that changes 'regular' into something different. Sometimes, on those regular days we are looking for something to change things up, to add a little spice or perhaps a little calm. Sometimes, regular is just what you need and you embrace it. It's safe.

Today was a regular day. I woke up beside the love of my life. I picked up my baby and she snuggled in my arms. I took a shower, ate breakfast...you get the idea here. Oh, but I must add that we did have a little surprise in our morning- my mom came over. Such a welcome surprise she was! Generally speaking though, things were pretty regular until...

I prayed for God to show Himself to me. My fearful, needy heart needed some encouragement, something to help me see with hope that I'm held and loved. I'm quite sure that when I prayed those words I had in mind a clear idea of what would give me that "hope". But, God's ways are higher...better. Instead of what I thought I needed, I was given a glimpse into the life of someone who was suffering greatly and suffering well. She knew hope. Hope well beyond the agony she lived. And she praised and glorified her God. And then yesterday, He gave her rest and welcomed her into His presence. I'd never met this woman but her life touched mine.

As if that was not enough, God moved again...and I received a call from a friend who had just lost the baby she had carried in her womb for the last 8 weeks. We shared tears, not because I've experienced that loss, but simply because the ache in her heart made mine hurt too. We prayed.

God hears our prayers. Oh how He longs to hear us pray big things so He can show us big things.

The day is coming to an end. It's a regular evening...only it's not.

What should I pray for tomorrow?

to do

Naturally, I created lovely blog entries in my head as I folded laundry, cleaned up the toy-splosion and made supper yesterday. It was bittersweet...sweet to know that my brain is not permanently on a train ride to nowhere but bitter to think that I wasted all that time staring at a blank screen trying to will my mind to think clever thoughts. So, I guess the jokes on me!

Today, I will start with my to-do list and empty my thoughts out later...

train ride to nowhere

I'm looking for some thoughts to write here but can't seem to focus my mind on creating more than a few sentances when my train of thought derails. I hop on another train and the same thing happens. Writer's block? Maybe. Or, perhaps it's my conscience trying to get me up off this chair to attack the laundry baskets full of clean laundry, the dirty dishes beside the sink, the toy-spolosion in my living room, the pile of things in the basement that need to be recorded on a tax-deductible sheet so they can be donated or the host of other things that are calling out from the 'to-do' list that I wrote them on yesterday. Who wants to read about that?

Let's try again...

It has been a long, cold winter. A snowy, long, cold winter. The kind of winter that I always hoped for as a child. Where has the wonder gone? It's buried under a snowdrift, I'm afraid, and it's stuck there until spring. Kind of like our nativity scene from Christmas. Walking past our house you might see a few heads stuck in the snow...don't worry, it's Mary and Joseph. Poor baby Jesus is buried beneath the snow.

Shoot, another train bites the dust. This a lousy excuse for a blog post but I can't bear to think that all this time would have gone to waste. And so, I suppose I should rise from this chair and to the occasion...and get to work.

The Ordinary

It's funny how even ordinary things become simply wonderful. Let's take a shower as our example today. I love to take those few minutes to myself when the tornado is under the watchful eyes of daddy. The sound of the water drowns out the noise of the world and it's warm like a tropical vacation. No need to put my contacts in first soI can see just how much the tub needs cleaning. Just relax and enjoy....

On two recent occasions those longed for quiet moments were not quite so dreamy....

The first experience was after my wonderful get-a-way had ended and I had checked in for little monkey duty. It was daddy's turn for a few minutes in the tropics. Evs and I were making breakfast when daddy returned. "Wow," he said, "did you see the giant spider on the shower handle?" Anyone who knows me knows of my great dislike for the entire bug population. My blind eyes did NOT see Mr. Spider. Maybe it was just as well that my contacts were safely tucked away in the medicine cabinet that day. The neighbors would have heard my scream...

Fast forward one week to story number 2. Daddy and little monkey were in the living room, so I thought it was safe to slip away. I'm not quite sure how things happened, but even the shower couldn't drown out the sound. Crash, bang...what was all that noise? Drum roll practice in the living room...a REAL tornado...all that snow caving in our roof? No peace for mommy that morning. Curiosity (and yes, I admit, a little frustration) got the best of me and I hurried to peek my head out the door. There she was. She was not alone. She had carefully selected my current read- a hardcover book- and a few of her own hard, plastic toys and used them against the bathroom door. A protest, no doubt, for being left alone. Alone...where was daddy? Well, he did hear the banging but thought all was well, since there were no tears. Valid point there:)

And through it all there is joy...much joy!

Joy

I love my job.

I love the sweet, sloppy kisses...the sound of her voice...her little arms wrapped around my neck...her smile...her smell...the innocent and joy-filled way she takes in the world.

"Mama"...it takes my breath away everytime...

It's simply amazing how life changes. One minute, you're a starry eyed dreamer with hopes of happily ever after. The next thing you know (well, sometimes it feels like an awfully long wait), you've found "the one" and you count down the days until you trade in your ordinary self to become a wife. Love makes life better. It makes ordinary into extra-ordinary. And just when you think life couldn't get any better, it does. It's all about perspective, isn't it? The process of growing a baby isn't always particularly pleasant or comfortable. But, in the end the joy outweighs the sufferings. In a way, all of life is like that.

And so...sleepless nights, depression, sickness, tears and all the other changes that came along as part of the package deal, they are worth it. In spite of it all...there is joy, much joy.

a hairbrush

Things were a little hectic this morning. I had an agenda and I wanted to keep it but then...the phone rang - my sister. Then it rang again...it was my father. And one more time...a good friend. Things were okay, just an hour behind schedule and ring-ring...my good friend again with an extra tidbit.

God must have wanted to humor me...to remind me that I'm loved.

Out the door...just an hour and half behind schedule- but we made it! And then my phone rang...my mother.

Thank you- I feel your love today.

It's been a loong week. When life is challenging, time moves so slowly you wonder if the clock is even ticking. Look at it, shake it - did it stop? Oh wait, it's m-o-v-i-n-g. Vacations are never like that. You get there and then it's time to go home again. I'm convinced that a person can never have too much fun. Perhaps I need to find a little more fun in those difficult days...

An errand or two and we were there, at the care center to visit with my grandma and also a dear friend. I enjoy these days. A "home" full of gentle, wrinkled faces who, if I had the time, could tell me stories for hours. They are always full of warm greetings for my happy little companion and I. Nothing breathes life into a room like a sweet little face with dancing feet. Evie has made "friends" with several of the staff there and they always comment on how much she grows in a week. These are good days...

We found grandma in her comfortable chair reading a book. She looked so beautiful in her pink sweater and trademark necklace- a raindow of colors and textures (Joyce's creation). She was very pleased that we had come. Evie ran to her and lifted up her hands. Grandma is still strong- she picked her up and Evie snuggled right into her lap. They talk about the necklace, the stuffed kitten on her table, where to find noses, ears, eyes..all the important things. After a bit, Evie grows tired of sitting in one place and is off to explore. Nothing is off limits to those curious little hands. And as we watch her, grandma asked if I would please brush her hair. Such a sweet way to finish our time together...

I found the brush next to the sink, where she said it would be. When I returned, I saw that she had moved forward in her chair so I could reach better. I took out her clips and unbraided her soft snowy, white hair. I started brushing gently  but she told me not to be shy, to REALLY brush it. And so I did, timidly at first, and then more comfortably as she told me how good it felt. It was as if time stopped, and I didn't want it to go any faster. Such a sweet moment. Evie stood and stared at us, caught in it too. And then it was time, time to put the brush away and rebraid her hair. But, I was okay with that...I had the memory...

welcome to my studio

I like to pretend. Today I whipped out my Nikon Coolpix and pretended that I was a photographer. I set up my "studio" (tipped the coffee table over and propped it up on the couch so I could drape my background up) and added some valentine decor to create the "perfect" scene. The "perfect" scene also involved the use of the vaccuum cleaner (to prop up the corner of the backdrop) but we made it work. The vaccuum used to be a big scary monster that ate children, but since it took up residence in the corner of the living room, it has become a friend (and a very fun word to say...bacuum, bacuum, bacuum).

Wala! Welcome, to my studio...my name is mama and I will be your photographer today.

Unfortunately, sweet Evie did not share in my passion to pretend that we were going to take beautiful photos that people might mistake for having been taken by a "real" photographer. She doesn't ever pretend that she likes "real" photographers- not on a personal level of course, but merely from the standpoint of well, just that. Standing still at any point. So, expecting her to pretend along was a stretch...but feeling hopeful, we tried.

Let's just say, it's a good thing  "candid" and "photojournalism" are popular styles of photography these days....