in the trenches

Defeated.

In a nutshell, that's me. Ready to be done fighting tirelessly for a joy that seems elusive, clinging to a truth that I know to be truer, much truer, than it feels.

I lay down my armor and sink into my soft bed, glad that I thought to change the sheets today. A clean bed is much more restful to a weary body with an aching gut.

Andy is asleep. He works so hard to provide for our family and the long days take a toll. I'd much rather have him awake, so I could listen to the story of his day or share my rambley thoughts. But instead, I smile to hear him laugh out loud in his sleep. How I wish I could join his dream and laugh along.

Evie is in her bed, but very much awake. She tells stories and laughs. Her voice is music to my ears. I let her nap too long today, but I was enjoying myself and didn't want to interrupt the magical sound of silence. In that time I was taking a trip down memory lane in preparation for a birthday celebration blog post, sorting through pictures from her very first breath up until yesterday, when she donned on winter gear for a trip to the store, There is much to remember, much to celebrate.

Evie and I took a walk today. She rode in the jogging stroller and I pushed her along a trail that wove through tall weeds, past a duck covered pond and through a some thick woods. I breathed in the heady scents of nature as we passed through each new place. She crinkled her nose and asked,"What is that smell?" We talked about how different things around us each produce a smell that, blended together, create the aroma of the area. I'm not sure she really understood. It didn't matter. I closed my eyes and remembered back to the days, oh so many years ago, when I ran barefoot through the woods behind my parents house or along the pond with my neighborhood friends, the air thick with the perfume of summer.The days before the weight of the world felt so heavy on my shoulders.

We walked past a garden full of blooms, the air filled with their sweetness. I closed my eyes and saw the row of roses that lined the walk at 321 North Humphrey; the sprawling 3 story house my grandparents filled with memories. In that moment, I could almost feel myself looking about the yard; seeing the screen porch there and the garage just beyond.

We arrived home just before the thick clouds opened and filled the world with an earthy smell and  life sustaining drops. She danced through the garden, picking flowers that she gave to me with various well wishes, "Happy Birthday, mom!' "Happy Mothers Day!" "I love you, mom!". She wrapped her arms around my neck and smothered me with her kisses. How did she know that I needed this?

And we went inside and waited for daddy. She, filled with far too much energy for a small house in a rainstorm, and I, with dinner preparations and projects on my mind. And so we danced, our feet moving to the sound of Bobby Darin then Dean Martin. And then we ate, our simple supper ample enough to put some spring back into her dancing feet and the ache back in my tummy.

Daddy arrived. He backed Frosty the Sable into the driveway and joined us in the kitchen. There is much joy when we are greeted by his presence. Our little world feels complete.

The evening was short. It was late and tomorrow looms before us.

Stillness.

The curly topped girl in the other room has joined daddy in the land of nod. I listen to a car drive by, the squeak of our ceiling fan, the stillness, not sure that I'm ready to turn out the light just yet.

Here, in my little room, a battle rages. Where hope clings to a truth bigger than itself while the enemy pounds against it with fierceness. In the trenches I call to mind the beauty of the blessings of my day, cling to my Hope and Truth and pray for relief and rest, sweet rest.

A mighty fortress is our God,

A bulwark never failing;

Our helper He amid the flood

of mortal ills prevailing.

For still our ancient foe

doth seek to work us woe

his craft and power are great

and armed with cruel hate

on earth is not his equal

Did we in our own strength confide,

our striving would be losing,

were not the right man on our side,

the man of God's own choosing.

Dost ask who that may be?

Christ Jesus it is He,

Lord Sabaoth his name,

from age to age the same

and He must win the battle

-Martin Luther

invisible ink

Last weekend, I turned the calendar page over and saw a week of blank days. I smiled and sighed contentedly. I jotted down a list of to-dos and dreamed up some birthday magic for the celebrations to come. Life looked simple, delightful, easy. I like that.

Last weekend, I turned the calendar page over and missed the fact that God had filled every square. But He must have used invisible ink and I did not have the decoder. (sigh)

It has been a week fuller than a suitcase packed for vacation. A roller coaster ride that dips this way and that. A boat ride on a sunny lake with big weeds hidden beneath that tangle up in the prop. A road trip with an unexpected detour.

I'm not a fan of detours. Despite how many times I try to persuade myself to enjoy the journey as much as the destination I can feel the heat of battle in my mind. The perfectionist, schedule-loving part of me grabs a sword and charges the joy-in-the-journey thoughts with a battle cry,"It's one way or no way!"

But I'm not behind the wheel of this ride. So, I buckle my seatbelt and enjoy the view. And though I still struggle, the unexpected blessings of this route are better than I could have expected...

Today is Thursday. It's Andy's birthday. And I'm kicking myself because I didn't make it everything that I think a birthday should be. But we ate lunch in the car together as a family in the driveway beside his shop and despite the drippy, gray clouds that color our landscape those little moments were the brightest part of our day,  Evie and I spent a generous part of our morning making a play-dough mess of epic proportions. Our soft faced friends "LaVonne" & "Cliff" made us smile and "Cheese Mountain" was the most colorful lump of clay you've ever seen. And while my wee one sleeps I nibble on some gingersnaps and recall all of the beauty in my days...

This is the smile of a girl who thinks she has it all together.

Ha.

Birthday boy and his little beauty

(who has recently developed a love of hair clips)

Shoe-tower!

Evie handed Nicole a phone. "Nicole wants to text, mom," she said.

And so they texted, until Evie snatched the phone back and Nicole burst into tears.

I asked her why she took it away.

"Because," she said with her nose crinkled,"she didn't want to text anymore."

Evie and I had a long discussion about sharing her toys with Nicole.

 Evie thought it through than came back with her own version of sharing.

 "But then I can take my toys away from Nicole and play with them if I want," she declared.

A bucket-headed girl and her (neighbor's) dog.

"Titus is my best friend," she says.

"LaVonne"

"Cliff"

She puts the finishing touches on "Cheese Mountain"

sweet cheeks

"Momma!" calls a little voice from a pile of blankets in her bed,"Come wake me up!" Little hands rub the sleep from big brown eyes. I scoop up my fairy and we snuggle as I kiss her soft cheeks and bury my nose in her golden mop.

The day begins and we dance to the tune of the sunshine and bugs and playgrounds and watermelon and changing outfits five times.

"It's getting dark," she cries when the sun moves into the western horizon," We have to get everything inside!" So we gather up our messes and put them away just in a time for a splash in the tub. And when the last of the mud goes down the drain she snuggles back up into her jammies and we read and pray together. She twirls my hair, her pacifier bobbing up and down in time with the lullabies we sing. And I kiss her sweet cheeks and bury my nose in her golden mop.

Such is life with my sweet cheeked fairy. But these days are much too short, so we capture the day making memories of the ordinary. And as we laugh and dance I sneak away to spend a few minutes behind the lens of my trusty camera. Savoring the abandon yet not quite willing to let it slip away.

If a picture is truly worth a thousand words, I will save myself the words and post the real thing...

If we could all "bee" so cute!

When in doubt, accessorize.

A little ice cream + a late night at the park= A LOT of silly

Getting things ready to do a little work on her "chevy."

Doing a little work on her "chevy"

Boxelder bug slayer and her arsenal

Sweet cheeks in the summer sun

If the shoe fits... (or the dirty socks...)

One shoe-d wonder

Our little gunner

Take time to smell the flowers...literally.

And especially as you wait for your delicious pizza to arrive at the table. (thank you Pizza Luce!)

Goldilocks and the 3 sweet girls

Evie-saurus

Arrrrg! And she's a pirate princess.

Silly 'staches with daddy!

(Just a tip...be sure to check and see if the paint is washable before you make your 'stache!

But, if you don't, just be prepared to enjoy your silly 'stache for a while.)

Hi! I'm silly. What's your name?

70 degrees and sunny does NOT get in the way of fashion.

And there you have it!

plans

There is nothing quite like a 2am wake up call. A carload of intoxicated individuals parked outside my open bedroom window and a husband who comes alive from a dead sleep to watch the goings on. Our little corner lot has often proved to be a front row seat to the wildest of real life happenings.

Oh the joys of city living.

We hit snooze and settled back to sleep. A few short hours later and the peaceful strains of Beethoven roused me from my slumber and the day began. A day planned out carefully. A day I had been waiting for.

Hope.

I opened my eyes. Peace; a sensation so foreign I almost couldn't recognize it. The sun seemed a little brighter. I slipped out of bed and walked into the day, my feet so light as if I wore slippers made of clouds.

Hurry, hurry. An appointment to keep and a dancing little fairy to dress and feed. I took the waffles from the iron and smothered them with butter and raspberries. She decided not to like waffles and raspberries today, but Andy and I savored each sweet bite. And then we kissed him goodbye and waved him off to work. She called," I LOVE YOU DADDY!" through the ripped screen of the living room window. I spent a few minutes soaking in the words of Psalms 103. Hurry, hurry. Time ticked on.

Bags were packed and we boarded our chariot, the trusty black Civic. And we were off to Grandma & Grandpa's house, where Evie would join the washer & dryer hunting expedition as I headed off in search of answers. "I'm here," she announced, slipping off her jeweled sandals and bounding up the stairs. I stayed a minute, chatting about the day and the plans we'd made, before heading out.

No sooner had I turned the key when the day changed. A stalled car and check engine light redirected the course of my morning in 30 short seconds. Several phone calls and some hand wringing later, I found myself driving my Mom's sharp Toyota down the road. Thank you Mom! I was later than I'd hoped to be but what else could slow me down?

Construction.

Construction + Thick Traffic + Me = Late. I think I might have heard the words "idiot" and "stupid" come from my mouth as I watched people who felt entitled to go through a stop signed intersection when it wasn't their turn. I also watched the time tick on as I sat trapped in a sea of brightly colored metal. I tried to think that this was God's best for me and that He was being glorified in this, but honestly, how on earth?

I made it. Nearly 10 minutes late but there I was, greeted by the smiling face of a sweet lady who uses her days to help others feel better. I shared my story and my cry for help, she offered hope and we talked food and supplements for two wonderful hours. I might have asked for two more hours, but her time does not come without cost and my piggy bank was empty. Talk is not always cheap.

A list of foods. A stack of recipes. A bag of supplements. A plan. My head was swimming in a sea of words while my heart rested peacefully on a raft. Gotta love  a good day at the beach.

A long lazy afternoon spent in good company at Woodside resort, waiting there with the broken car for Andy to come and rescue us. And he did, my knight in shining armor coming by to whisk us away to the golden castle we call home. The little house on the corner.

And as I rocked my curly topped cherub to sleep she whispered a story of her day...
"I touched all the dryers.
Grandma said I could touch the dryers.
Grandpa said I could touch the dryers.
They both said I could touch the dryers
Wasn't that sweet of them?"


And, because I couldn't resist sharing two more little Evie-isms from my day...

Driving home. I turned on the radio, it was rather loud.
E- Mommy, could you turn that radio down,
Me- (As I turned down the radio) Honey, you should say "Mommy, could you please turn the radio down?"
E- But you already did it.


Several moments later...

E-Mommy, when we get home could I wash my hands?
Me- Yes you can
E- (Crying hysterically) I don't want to wash my hands!

And so we travel on down this road called life...full of plans.

wordings

I love Evie-speak. Its English with a twist. A mixed up jumble of words that are real, words that are almost real and words that are random word-like sounds seemingly pulled from nowhere and used as effortlessly as the air she breathes. And then she launches off into a story made of words that simply are not. We often ask her if she speaks Chinese and she thinks we are hilarious. The feeling is quite mutual.

Today she started digging in my flower pots, pots full of rich, black soil and petunias. After a bit I noticed her doings and chided her. She was instantly full of remorse and began to put the "comtist" back. "The what?" I asked her. "The comtist," she replied matter-of-factly and scooped up a handful. It took me a minute, but it got it. Compost. We have been gardening lately and picked up a large load of compost for our garden. I guess it made an impression.

In Evie-speak, most words are made plural by adding "is" at the end. Geese-is. Snack-is. Swing-is. Book-is. There are some exceptions to this rule, however, but they are entirely at her discretion. We were out and about the other day when she launched into a story about being hungry and needing a "snack-is." I asked her where she heard the words she used. "From speakings," she replied,"I listen to speakings."

Evie can see the elementary school park from our front yard. Often, during the day, she runs out and looks down the street to see if children are playing there. If she sees them there, she calls out dramatically,"Oh my stars! The kids are there at my park. What are we going to do about this?" Sometimes its "Oh my stars and stripes!" Recently, however, due to a sweet little music CD she loves to listen to which has a song with the words "Oh my gosh" in it, she has changed her exclamation. "Oh my gosh and stars!" she says with a flourish, leaning a little forward and to the side with her arms stretched out, her face contorted.

Some words are simply made up, but they are inserted into regular sentences or songs with ease. Hosqwack. Cockwass. Sibbies. Bahbah. Sometimes there are others, but these are the usuals. They are most often used in place of nouns. When we ask her what these words mean, she erupts into raucous laughter. What do they really mean? We may never know.

She loves to talk...and sing. Sometimes she talks faster than her mind can formulate words so groupings of sounds take their place. Other times, she can come up with stories so quickly I can hardly follow along. Songs are often a narration of the current events set to music. Maybe, just maybe she comes by that honestly...

What is an "eyetip"? A contact. An "eartip"? A Q-tip. Hot summer days are perfect for a dip in a "swimming cool." "Pincils" are yogurt covered pretzels from the bulk bins at Grassroots co-op. That big brown delivery truck that zooms through the neighborhood? The P.S truck. A tasty snack or meal is followed by a lip smack and a "thank you, this is TA- LICIOUS!" Evie always loves a trip to "Nards!", the home improvement store that makes her so excited she throws her hands up in the air.

Her little mind captures the world so she can describe it later. And when she tells us of her observations, we are enchanted not only by her speakings but also by the music of her voice.  The most mediocre of words is made alive with it's sound. A curly topped fairy who dances to the notes her own melodies, scrunching her face together to grasp a new thought or leaning forward with one arm outstretched in awe of what's before her. Wonder.

This morning she dressed for a trip to Costco. A jumper, a shimmery, fur collared jacket and her glittery princess shoes. I didn't contest her choice, beg her to wear something "normal." I complimented her fancy-ness, she answered with glasses and jewelry galore. I packed a bag of  "normal" clothes and by the time we reached our destination she was ready to lose the jewelry, glasses, shimmery jacket and shoes. So we did a costume change right there in the car, no questions asked. And then we shopped and she filled my cart with wordings and laughter.

"This is what I wear to Costco," she explained," My dress. My sparkly jacket. My princess heart shoes. My glasses. My neckace. I'm ready to go."

happy mama

The sound of little feet padding up beside my bed brought me back from the land of nod. I opened my eyes to see a curly-mopped girl handing me a purple piece of paper. "Happy Mothers Day," she announced her eyes still full of sleep.

Behind her walked daddy, the tray in his hands bringing with it sweet smells of breakfast delights. He set it down beside me. Freshly made waffles and eggs. Maple syrup and a glass of orange juice. Strawberries and butter. A tiny bouquet of violas from our little garden and a card full of sweet nothings. "Happy Mother's Day," he echoed.

Such a surprise. And even more surprising that I slept through the clangings and bangings of his preparations. I'm usually one to wake up with the sounds of morning.

Along with the fanciful Evie decorated card and Andy's sweet delicious breakfast was God's gift to this mama...rest. Much needed rest.

I might also add that much care was taken in advance to make sure that all of the details were in place for this. The previous Thursday evening Andy commented on how he recognized my need for some time alone and encouraged me to disappear for a bit. I longed for a quiet place in nature but ended up at the end of a parking lot in my car. It was lovely. I sat there lost in thought until I found my way home a lovely 20 minutes later. It's quite amazing how even a few minutes of rest can unburden a weary soul. In my time away, he carefully planned and prepared for his Sunday morning surprises. It's not just the gift that cheers a heart, but sometimes more the thoughtful preparation that preceded it.

To my ever thoughtful and patient husband, thank you for making me feel appreciated and special. It is an honor to be your wife. I love you with all my heart.

To the mop topped little cherub who made me a mama, thank you for smothering me with your laughter and love. Your joy is a gift to my days. How I love you.

st paul saturday

Saturday morning. We were awakened by the singings of a cheery girl. Singings that turned to sorrowings when her beloved glow worm escaped through the wooden slats of her bed and landed just beyond reach. "Help!" she cried,"my glow worm!" And so I helped, gathering the glow worm and the girl in my arms and bringing her back with me. We snuggled. She pressed my hair into her eyes and nose, it comforts her. She smothered daddy with kisses.

There we were. Three people well rested from an especially long night of sleep facing a day with no schedule but dreams enough to fill it. And capture it we did, taking on tasks that long awaited attention mixed with a healthy dose of living in the moment, embracing life as it came our way.

A drive to the compost site to load up with fresh soil for our little garden plot. A stop at the bank. A few errands. A flea market. And a long lazy afternoon in St. Paul, our camera snapping shots of our happy little company. A dish of Grand Old Creamery delight then off to dinner with Mom and Aunt Joyce. We shared our stories then watched the sun go down from the patio of D'Amico.

We loved and laughed our day away...

"Evie do it." Yes, our little girl now dresses herself. It's always a good thing when the chosen clothing matches. It's especially sweet to listen to her narrate the process for herself. "The tag goes on the bottom," she murmurs as she sits down on the floor, settling her pants in place before she pokes her toes in.

Look! An eagle! And a funny behind the scenes story of a very contorted daddy trying to keep himself behind the eagle board while hoisting the child up into place. The things we do for a good photo. 

The universal sign for "Emergency"

Camera timers are lovely things.

The St. Paul Cathedral

I will admit it. We are scrappers. We found a treasure on a street corner with a free sign and couldn't help ourselves. We did fit this lovely waterfall style double bed into our tiny Civic. It was an involved process, but where there's a will there is most certainly a way.

Tip a cold one back while you pedal around town. What a novel idea. No, we did not ride the pedal pub. We were eating ice cream as it passed us.

And on we went...

What a gift. Our hearts as light as the breeze that whispered through the tree tops, our skin warmed in the sun's golden rays. Filled with memories of sweet moments to dream about for days to come.