Pastor Mark

As mentioned in the previous post, we just finished celebrating our high school youth pastor, Mark, for 20 years at church. I know that so many people who went through youth group have the same things to say, or even more than I do, about how Pastor Mark changed their lives. But while we remembered all of our glory days in high school youth group, I think everyone was giving due credit to Mark, who made a place for us to become who we were, to grow spiritually, and who invested so much into our lives. You have to know the guy to really know how great he is, how he can look at situations differently than anyone else, how he teaches by example and by using your own life, how he speaks truth without judgment.
My husband and I both hold great respect for Pastor Mark, who, in different ways, influenced us and changed our lives. He was part of a healing process for me, and for my husband, he was a friend through a really dark time.
I could never share every memory I have that Mark was responsible for, directly or indirectly. But because I've been thinking about it this weekend, I will share some of my favorites. In no particular order.

1) Driving home from Chicago on the bus, in a construction zone. Mark, deciding to see how close he could get before hitting the cones. (Many of them did not survive).
2) Mexico. 1998. Sand, sun, building houses. I was 16, and I did not sleep more than 3 hours a night the whole week. On the way home Mark told me he would never let me get that little sleep ever again. But he was the only person I ever saw fall asleep while STANDING.
3) Worship time. Our youth group was really into music. By my senior year, we had formed bands that would lead the music time every week. That year, before school started, Mark invited me to discuss how I thought the worship time should look. I remember, we sat in his office eating salsa out of cups (he didn't have any chips), and he listened to me. And I think that was the first time I really felt like an adult valued my opinion. Also, the salsa was really tasty.
4) When I was still really new to the church, they were doing a banquet for the graduating seniors, and I didn't really feel like I was part of the group so I planned to just sit out in my brother's car the whole time. Mark noticed, and sent my brother out to get me to come in. He also invited me to go on their work trip that was coming up. I didn't go, but it just meant a lot to me that he noticed. There were at least fifty other kids in the group, and he had all kinds of other responsibilities, but he noticed me when I was in the loneliest, darkest time of my life. And it made me know, in some small way, that God had not forgotten about me.
5) We were at a youth conference and by the middle of the week, I'd hit my limit of social interaction. I was hauling around a big burden of unforgiveness and confusion from the church my family had left almost two years earlier, and I just wanted to spend the large group session crying. Actually, I did. I went out and sat on the sidewalk alone and cried. When I composed myself, I went back in but I couldn't get to my seat so I stood in the aisle by Mark. He turned to me while everyone else was busy singing, and asked if I wanted to talk. We went into a stair well/landing thing away from the crowd and I cried more and he hugged me and then I told him about how badly I wanted to forgive and how I didn't know how I could. Then we sat on the stairs and he told me his own forgiveness story from his life. And somewhere in the whole exchange, after he prayed for me and gave his advice, something inside of me healed a little. The conference went on and people had their own personal experiences with God, but for me, that day in the stair well was life-changing because it was a huge bend in the road to forgiveness. I don't even know what Mark said exactly. I just remember that he understood and he listened, and no one else had been able to really do that for that particular subject.
6) My wedding. When Daniel and I got engaged, there was no question who we wanted to perform the cerimony for us. We'd met because of Mark (another long story). We'd basically fallen in love in youth group. ANd Mark meant so much to both of us at that time. We were the first couple he married, which I think was pretty cool (he's done a ton of weddings since then). He and his wife mentored us through our premarital counseling, and then he did the most awesome thing a pastor could ever do at a wedding. In his charge to the couple, he made each point an acrostic that spelled Batman. Because he's cool like that.

Annd there are probably a thousand more stories I could tell, but I guess most of them just aren't as interesting to everyone else as they are to me. So I'l leave it at that. And I'll say the cliche, how privilidged I am to know Mark.

This song was in my head this weekend as we reflected on all that he's done in 20 years. It's Cheer Up Church by Charlie Peacock, and some of the words don't really apply (especially the past tense part) but here are the ones that do:

His was a voice, fueld by truth
spoke to us/ of God's love
In a way/ we could understand
and take hold of.
His was a life/ defined by grace
for a time/and for a reason
so we bow/and give thanks to God
for the life/of our brother

Reunion

This last weekend, we celebrated our high school youth pastor's 20th year at the church with a reunion and reminise time for all of the people who had passed through youth group with Pastor Mark. As I wandered around and looked at the pictures of events, all of my peers hanging out together, remembering the hours I spent at church and on trips and retreats, I just felt... happy. They were great memories.
I think with the past, you pick out the best parts and they become sharper in your mind and the bad parts become duller so that you're left with these shining gems that become your memories. Unless you're bitter, and then it probably works the other way. The youth group compartment of my teen memories is full of really wonderful times.
There were tables labeled with each year Mark had been a pastor, filled with pictures and mementos from that year in youth group. I wandered around and purused, remembering. Talent shows, work trips, service activities, friendships, music, joy. And so many moments not caught on film that shaped who I was. SOme of them were hilarious, some tender, some were just part of every day life. Some of them happened when they were supposed to, at a key moment, like a speaker at a retreat or a worship song. Some of them were on the outside, and everyone saw. And some of them were quiet moments that fashioned my heart and drew me closer to God. Conversations with one of the leaders, a lesson about some spiritual principle, or just watching the authentic way people lived their lives in front of me.
So many memories on those tables, and in my own photo albums. So many treasured in my mind, chapters written in those high school years that are part of who I am.
I loved youth group, having spent my freshman year in a not-so-healthy group of people who cared more about their shoes than about the Bible, it was so refreshing to become part of a group who genuinely cared about each other and about their relationships with God. I look back at those times, those three and a half years in youth group with Pastor Mark and the other friends I had (including my husband), and cherish them. I am so thankful God took me to that place. And I'll be thinking about that reunion for a long time, because there was something really special about it.

New Baby!

I don't know if there are readers out there who I don't know in real life, so I figured I should update about the baby. She's one week and one day old today.
The surgery went really smoothly, and I felt great through the whole thing. (Last time I had some pain and then I got a spinal headache which really sucked). The only hiccup was when they did the spinal block, he couldn't get the needle in between the vertabrea because I have a curve, but they fixed that easily by having me sit on a towel to straighten it out.
I cried when the baby came out and I heard her little scream coming from the corner. She was so cute and tiny and I was so relieved that everything had gone smoothly.
She was 7 pounds and 2 ounces and 20 inches long. Born at 7:57 AM
We hadn't nailed down a name yet, so when we got back to the hospital room, we kept trying to figure one out that would work well. We had a lot of different choices we'd been considering, but none of them ended up being the name. THe ones we picked became options just that morning while we'd been in surgery prep.
She's Lois Svetlana
We always liked Lois but we didn't think it worked well with our last name, but then we realized that she's not always going to have this as her last name (probably) and I never cared that much anyway. It means "agreeable" or "desireable" which I thought was fitting for a baby I tried to have for two years. So far, she has been pretty agreeable, too!
Svetlana is a RUssian name that means light. We want her to be a light that draws people to Christ, and brings brightness into the dark world.
And that's how we picked the name. And that's the baby.

December 13th

There are now going to be 3 people in our extended family with December 13th birthdays. My baby being one of them! That's the one nice thing about having to have c-sections. You can know ahead of time. (Although I still secretly hope I'll go into labor on my own. It could happen).
There are still so many things to organize and a lot of things I want to do. Christmas shopping hasn't happened whatsoever (and realistically won't). I need to keep on top of normal house work and school and every day life too. But I don't feel panicked or overwhelmed. At least not yet.
Just sitting around waiting for baby to pop out. (That's what the kids say happens anyway. They have no idea.)
Today I had my third to last OB appointment.
The count down has been going for a week now. Mostly because my hips hurt and I'm tired of having to pee all the time. And I sort of feel like I should be running around and finishing things and panicking. But it's reall all good. Because babies don't need new curtains and clean walls and cupboards or a well-organized routine. They just need Mommies and Daddies and love. And i think I'll be able to pull that off.

My way or the highway--I mean loony bin.

It was supposed to be a great week. I was going to go to Bible study with the kids, then meet a friend to play Scrabble. I was going to get some maternity clothes to fit me for the last three weeks.
Didn't happen.
We were supposed to spend the holiday with my family, and then go out to the farm with the in-laws for the evening and relax and sing and play board games, and do all of the things we usually do. I was going to get in some target practice. I had it all scheduled out in my mind. My cousin and my sister were visiting, and it was all going to play together beautifully. WE were going to take a family picture while we were all together too.
And I was so excited for a friend of mine to join us for THanksgiving at the farm, singing songs and playing games. My kids were going to play with their cousins and the visitors and they'd all get along. My family was going to join us out at the in-laws and hang around for the whole evening and be there with us.
And it turned out OK. There was food. There were songs. (No board games though). The kids sort of played together and I think my friend had a good time even though things were weird. My family left really early. BUt they were there for some of it. I got to visit with a few people. But it was just off. Everything was off. I felt like my head was cut off, to use a familiar phrase involving a chicken...
I was going to go shopping early this morning and find the perfect bedding for my bedroom, which has long been waiting for "grown-up" bedspreads and curtains. I was going to enjoy some time shopping with other ladies in the family and find some Christmas presents.
Due to no one's fault, I didn't find a bedspread I liked, and I ended up not buying anything at all, and aside from a nice lunch together with my cousin and Mother in law, I wouldn't have really missed anything if I hadn't gone in to town to shop today at all.
Wednesday morning Bible study didn't happen because we were at the doctor's office (Third time in two weeks and today made a forth). I got strep last week. Then Wednesday Jayna woke up with a fever and vomiting. We got our antibiotics and we went home and she has been slowly recovering. But not enough that we could really relax on Thanksgiving. I slept on the couch in case she threw up that night before. I was exhausted the next day. The holiday that I love. The day I'd been looking forward to all month. And I had no control over it.
I thought she'd get better, but she spent the evening here at the house with various adults while i tried to enjoy myself at the stranger-than-usual family Thanksgiving.
Then, we made it home late last night, right in time for the eldest to start complaining about an ear ache. And crying. And screaming. And if it weren't for leftover ear drops from her last infection, we would have been at the ER last night. Thankfully we made it through to today.
Anyway, all of that long-windedness is just to say, nothing's gone how I wanted/planned this whole week. And it has me really stressed out. It shouldn't because none of it has been really drastic or catastrophic. But I think that the last month I've been noticing how much I want to control things. I want it my way.
I didn't used to be like that, but I think it's a new way of handling stress. And it's driving me nuts. It's making me unhappy. And I'm sure no one else really likes it either.
I just want to live in peace and be content and not worry about where the towels go or how the laundry is done. But it isn't happening. And sometimes, the more I try to fix it, the worse it gets.
How can I make things go "my way" before I throw someone out the window?
I don't know. I guess it has to do with letting to more, trusting God more, caring about people more. Worrying about meeting needs rather than deadlines and reaching out to others rather than reaching for unrealistic standards. This month, with a new house, has unveiled, somewhere in my heart, a part of me I didn't realize was so consuming. Maybe it's just been growing this time, or maybe it wasn't there before. Or maybe it's been here all along--the desire to control. To have things the way I want them. And it's starting to get ugly, this battle I'm fighting. So I'm going to say it now, hoping it will happen. I'll lay it down and let God be the ruler and the peacemaker and the standard for everything I desire. Because it's more important that my family feels loved than that I get all of the towels folded.

Pregnancy week 32. And other random tidbits I know you were dying to find out about.

We've been here a week and a half. No, I'm not "settled", but at least it doesn't smell as bad, and I kind of like it.
This week has been madness. I've been in town every day, all day. Doing productive things like cleaning up the old house so our renters can move in. In the midst of it all, a horrible cold has stricken our home. Starting with the kids, and now onto me. That's what you get for stretching thin.
Since I'm now 32 weeks pregnant, I get to start, what my doctor labeled "Kristin Fest", which is when I come into the office every week for an ultrasound to make sure my high-risk pregnancy is going all right. I never knew last time around that it wasn't really a blood clot they were worried about (thanks to the nightly injections), but that having Factor V Leiden puts you at risk for pretty much everything else that can go wrong in pregnancy. Preeclampsia, placenta previa, placental abruption, low birth weight, low fluids... whoopie! I'm not worried, though. So far everything has been super smooth. Except for the anemia which there seems to be no good solution for, since I've been taking iron and vit C for four months and nothing's changed. I did add b12 on the advice of my chiropractor which at least helps with the energy level if nothing else.
And I think I remember reading that Factor Five can keep affect your absorption of that vitamin too. So now the list of suppliments I take is two points longer. YOu want to know, don't you?
Vitamin D (was already on that before being pregnant)
Calcium (to help with the Vit D and because my lovenox injections make me not absorb it)
Folic Acid (don't know why but I take a quadruple dose)
VItamin C to help with iron absorption
Iron (double dose)
B12 (also to help with iron absorption)
THat is nine pills every day, on top of two other presciptions that I already had. But it could be worse, right? It can always be worse.

So that's how things are going. People tell me I have a small belly. Every day. I'm really small. I feel like a blimp and I can't carry my own weight up the stairs. I've gained 13 pounds now. Because you wanted to know.
Also, I can't wait to have this baby! Soon I'll be getting the bedroom ready and shopping for things we need.
I'm glad we got to move to a bigger house before the delivery so we can spread out and have some quiet around us. Hopefully everything else settles down soon so we can relax more and enjoy the beauty around us.

Home

Well. We've moved. And I feel like an episode of Green Acres every freaking day. It's good to have space, and it's such a nice old farm house. But... well... it's an old farm house. And I guess any change leaves a person wondering if they made the right choice or if they should have stayed where they were, or at least chosen something else.
That's how I feel about change. I'm buried in boxes and more cupboards than I know what to do with, but I don't have energy for unpacking a ton of things every day because my back gets sore really fast. And I'm afraid to lift too many things or too heavy of things because it gives me contractions. Everyone said being pregnant and moving is a good idea, but I would surely like to have some energy. (I blame a lot of this on being anemic still, despite the stupid suppliments I take every day).
So. Here we are. And this little poem from a mother's day gift we gave my mom 25 years ago has been going through my head: "A house is made of bricks and stone, but a mother's touch makes it home".
This mother... sort of wishes we'd done things the "normal" way, you know. The way the Joneses do. Sell your old house and move into a bigger, newer one. Or build one that's even better.
But we haven't gone that route, and we never have been one of the Jonses so.... here we are. And I'm happy. And I love the space. And the quiet is nice. But it isn't what I'm used to. It will be amazing once I get everything unpacked. It really will. I guess I'm impatient too, along with perpetually discontent.
Maybe I'll never actually be happily content with where I am. But I'd rather take a lesson from my grandma and find peace and joy in every situation. I'd rather just be at home here.

Pinterest and the Devil (yes, they might actually be one in the same).

I'm just going to say it. I hate pinterest with a passion and I don't even use it. I just know all about all of the great ideas in the whole world that I will NEVER have energy or desire to complete.It seems like wherever I go now, people have to tell about the thing they just did or saw on Pintrest. Or what they accomplished and posted to pinterest.
It's a little overwhelming when you know the people around you in your "peer group" are doing these amazing things. Because it's not like it's just one remarkable thing they do. It's those kinds of people who do ALL of the remarkable things, and leave the rest of us boring plain old vanillas with no accomplishments. No, I do not have a clean house. (Actually it is clean, just not tidy or organized). No, I do not plan out a weeks worth of meals from delicious recipes that are "SO EASY" and list forty ingredients and take all day to make. No I don't create beautiful decorations in my home out of recycled trash my neighbor was just getting rid of, or plant flowers in cute old pottery or even plant flowers at all. And the ones I do plant die. No, I do not create elaborate lesson plans to teach my kids preschool and kindergarten. Or schedule great events for them all wrapped around whatever theme we're learning about. I don't schedule things at all. No, I don't keep on top of... anything. No, I don't put together great trendy outfits with clothes I bought on consignment (although I do buy my clothes on consignment). No, I don't sew. No, I don't crochet or knit. No, I don't can or make jelly or freeze meals ahead of time. No, I haven't painted any of the rooms in my house since we moved in. No, I haven't put up little adorable picture frames with pictures of my kids from infancy on. No, I don't have little baskets that I trimmed with ribbon or fabric to store their toys in. No, I don't restore furniture to save money. No, I don't watch the ads for coupons or combine store coupons with manufacturer's coupons and store deals to get hotdogs for 1 cent. No, I don't. No I don't, No I don't. And I don't even WANT to.
So I have no idea why I feel so inadequate that I don't and can't. Maybe I need to stop even listening to women when they talk about their great ideas. Maybe I should just stop talking to women at all. Maybe I'll move out to the woods and live in a camper and for fun we can go hiking and canoeing and hunting. And we'll have horses and goats too. I think that would be a lot more fulfilling.
And while I'm at it, I'll stop shopping at craft stores and department stores and start buying all of my things at Farm and Fleet.Where I mostly will encounter farmers wives and crusty old men who don't care what I look like or how I decorate my house. How do you like that, Pinterest!

Really, I just need to find my identity in what I was made to be, and try to dwell on that instead. Maybe inspiration will hit once I'm done having all of my energy sucked out of me by kids. But if it doesn't, I just have to choose not to believe the devil (who tells me I'm not good enough for Pinterest) and believe what GOd says about me. I know He made and that means I'm cherished. And He's given me great gifts that happen to be different from everyone else's. So I should use those and stop feeling sorry for myself. Tomorrow.
And maybe I'll buy a canoe too. You never know.

Wekk 25

For most people in most pregnancies, it's just another week. Not a milestone. Not a big deal. No appointments.
For me, it's full of anxiety and painful memories. On Thursday it will be over.
I haven't thought as much about that pregnancy this time around. But I went in to the dr. for my appointment, thankful that I could see him this week AND have an ultrasound (they couldn't see the spine last time). I consider it a mercy from God, to set me off into the worst week without wondering if something already went amuck.
It's been good, and the baby is still kicking. This is a very active baby, which is great. Whenever I wonder if things are OK, Baby Bats just kicks or moves. I love it!
Week 25, four days left. After that, I will breathe easier.

The Young Me

We dug out some old stuff of my grandma's when we were up there in Montana last time. One thing we found was a five-year diary from when she was 11-15. It was fun to read through the different activities she did. That woman was pretty freaking amazing. Involved in everything! I loved reading it all. The best entry went something like this (in 1938 when she was 14,  believe): Saw Sam today. My heart fluttered. We went for a ride in his car and he put his arm around me. He told me he loved me. I'm sure it wasn't proper but... then he kissed me. It was swell."

I loved imagining her out there in some old car before it was an old car, with her close friend, dreaming big dreams about the future and letting her red hair fly in the wind. I wish she'd written more. I wish I could have looked through all of her diaries.

It made me wonder about my old journals. I started when i was 12, I think. And for some stupid reason I KEPT all of those things, thinking someone would want to read them some day. I'm thinking that they won't. And i'm thinking I'll die if some people do. Because, let's face it, I was a stupid kid. We all probably were. On the outside we looked normal, but those angsty tweenager thoughts and the following years full of teenage troubles... it's embarrassing, really. If you knew me then, I'm thankful that we're still friends becuase I must have been one very annoying person.

I wonder sometimes if I should burn those bright-eyed dreams written with bic pens between classes (or during them), in the dark nights alone in my room, wondering if anyone loved me, if anyone cared. If I would ever get married. dreaming about my future and all of the things I could be. But I don't want to forget that either. Maybe some day my girls would want to see it. It's not like I had anything to hide. Just a whole lot of angst and questions that no one could answer.

I read some old emails yesterday, and I wanted to shoot that 18-year-old me. Knock myself over the head and say, "it turns out fine! Stop freaking out! And stop being so random! And stop being so... weird."

But I think that I still am that girl sometimes. And sometimes, even though I know how immature and naive I was back then, I wish I could go back. To be the young me again, before I became jaded and cynical about so many things. Before I knew so much about the world. Those troubles made me into who I am, and every joy and sorrow shaped me. So I'll keep the journals for now. but don't go looking for them. They're safely hidden away. Not even my closest friends have seen them. And I plan to keep it that way!

Joy

I found in the darkness
picked you up and called you mine
pressed you there at my heart where the scars grew deepest
and we danced in the moonlight like long-lost friends
in sweet harmony,
with faces turned to heaven
a song of gratitude, sung together.

But the darkness lifts
and life goes on
and finding you here among the mundane isharder
In this day-to-day going and coming--
the rushing moments between here and there
when the heart gets lost among
the ticking clock and
cries for help from others
When true vision circles around but doesn't land,

In a wilderness of sorts, a fighting chance
before all goes dark again
a glimpse
a glimmer
You. Standing there in the thorns of life as I know it,
a peace of heaven,
here amidst the earth
You and your promises
singing to my soul.

Another Pregnancy Post

I know most of my readers don't care about these things, but I feel like writing it, so I'm going to.
people ask how I'm feeling and I always say, "Pretty good. Just a little tired." By tired, I mean some days I can't walk up the stairs without feeling exhsausted. I pant like a fat person on a marathon even from doing something as menial as carrying the laundry across the room!
Also, I fell down twice this weekend. It might be usual clumsiness, but I just don't ever fall down. I think I've fallen four times since I turned 18. Not too bad. Two of them were this weekend. Once in the bowling ally which I should have just been a little more careful when trying to kick JJ's ball down a little faster. The other one wasn't really my fault either. It was on a cement floor at a fast-food restaurant with greasy floors and I had slick shoes on. I'm sure it looked great. But people felt sorry for me, because I was wearing a dress and I was pregnant. My little nephews asked more than once if I was OK. I was OK then, but today I'm sore all over. I'm blaming the pregnancy because I probably could have recovered and not fallen on my tooshy if I hadn't been off balance in the first place.
Also, I gained 5 pounds this week. And I know it was this week alone, because I weigh myself every week and I was sure I would have gained some whiel I was in Montana, since we mostly ate sausage and bacon and fast food things like that. But I didn't gain any there. some how it caught up later. And I shouldn't complain because that's all I've gained in the 23 weeks I've been pregnant. But I was hoping. Oh well.
According to my ultrasound, the baby is doing fine, though, so I can't really complain. And we've procured a bigger place to live in the fall so we can be ready for a bigger family. I have mixed feelings about that, but I'll post on it later. That's all for now.

Harvest of Friends

We received a great shower of blessings last week while I was in Montana. Daniel decided to surprise me by fixing up the front of our house. Let me tell you. It was unbelievable.
He never imagined so many things getting done. Or so many people coming to help! It was a reminder of how blessed we are with these people who like us enough to with these projects that have been hanging over our heads. It was a huge relief for both of us to get it done, and there were so many things that got done!
Paint all around. Sealed up the cracks and crumbles. Filled in holes. New flower beds in the front. Brand new poured cement porch with columns to hold it up and new wood around the roof that covered it. They fixed up the side porch too.
People who we don't talk to that often, long-time friends, and new friends all showed up to help on different days. Daniel spent every day of the week working on the house. My MIL oversaw the things inside of the house and kept it together there. And other family members helped too.
I'm overwhelmed with the blessings, and the house is so beautiful. It reminded me of this episode of Little House on the Prairie, when Charles is sinking into debt over his head with too much work to do, and at the end, all of his friends in the town come to help him shovel grain or something like that, and he realizes how blessed he is.
Anyway, here are a few photos because I know you're dying to see it!

This is the "before" shot. Pretty shoddy. You can't tell from back here, but the whole house was really tired and dark and moldy and cracked.

The sign they made

Daniel made me pose for this, putting down the welcome mat. When I bought it for the old porch, it looked too nice to be there. Now I'd like to get a better one because the porch is almost too nice for that one. :)

They chopped down the pine tree in the front yard. That's our friend Tim way up high after they lopped off the top.

Awwwww.

My super hero, in his element.

More super heroes. These guys are the dynamic duo. (Father-in-law and his brother). They can pretty much do anything.

And this doesn't even do the new look justice. Love the little house!

Lone Prairie

Out here in these Montana hills
where you can see for miles beyond--to where the dusk meets the night
to some solo lights out in the sky
And a man could wander all day
and still not see a soul
stomping through this native grass, bending in the direction of the wind
A thousand miles of wonderful
whispered in the wind
between the blades of beauty
the glowing fields of grain

And this restless soul, searching for peace and meaning
can follow a fence line and soak in that silence
spoken for two hundred years of settlers and homesteads
and these horse-ridden impliments
left to rust in the weather
forgotten by time and technology.
The sound of wild things howling in the night--
of horses and hooves and hammers and plows breaking ground

In this i find something more, something untamed and fierce
a pull to conqur, the ability to try
becokoing me further beyond
to where the morning meets the sky.

Magic Screen

Well, there isn't a lot to tell here. I mean, i could, but you aren't supposed to post vacations on the internet until you get home. Even though my husband is actually still home so there wouldn't be a chance for you burglers to get in and pillage.
A couple of weeks ago, when i was put off with mass communication in general, and more specifically facebook politics, I was sitting on the couch, doing something I find to be pretty relaxing, challenging and sort of stressful all at the same time. Drawing on the Etch-a-Sketch.
And then it turned into this idea. And this is what it looks like. I plan to update it more often than I update this one, since I seem to be losing fire with this one.

In the Quiet Hours

There are things that happen at night that just don't happen as well during the day. i'm not sure if it's just distractions and worries that get in the way during daylight, when you feel like you have to concur these projects and make yourself look productive. Or if it's just because it's louder during the day.
At night, as the darkness covers over the things you didn't finish, and the stillness sets in, when the kids have gone to bed and the dishes are washed or forgotten, and you have the TV off and you're ready for your last evening snack. that's when things get good.
I love having late-night conversations. I didn't really know that about myself, although I've always had my best talks with best friends late at night. There's just something different about it. Like here, where I am now, when we've been together all day *doing* things, and then we finally have some time to just sit back and visit, country style, that's when the good talking starts. It begins with something somewhat shallow, like politics or the state of the world, or your favorite hobby. And slowly, as the hours get longer and more people drop off to sleep, the subject matter becomes deeper. And even if it doesn't, it feels like it does. It feels like you know each other better and you can finally say the things you want to say.
Maybe it's just from being around each other all day. Maybe it takes that long to warm up. And maybe it's just how I feel. Maybe it's the mellow night sounds around, and the end of the day feelings, and just the way conversations work. Or maybe it's the quiet that comes most every night that we ignore by tuning in to blue screens and work. I think I want to embrace those quiet hours better, make more of them, before it's too late and I'm old and don't know my friends anymore.

Do you ever feel like every time you open your mouth you say the wrong thing? Or that your opinion offends people?
I've been feeling like that lately and I'm not even sure how to fix that. I can't help but have opinions.
But maybe it's time to shut up more.
I really don't know. When is truth offensive because it's truth, and when is it offensive because a person doesn't want to hear it? How can I draw the distinction, pleasing God and not pissing people off?
Sometimes I sort of want to just piss people off. I'm really funny when I'm mad.

MIA.

I've been MIA for a while, I know. I've pretty much felt like crap for the last 9 weeks or so. I pretty much hate those people who never have morning sickness when they're pregnant and really just go through the whole shebang without any complications.
I'm a walking complication, and it's kind of wearing me out.
Being pregnant is great, and I'm really happy though. I'm sorry if you hate it when people talk about pregnancy. I used to always hate it too and now I can't help it.
But anyway, we've been busy. First there was this wedding which sucked up a week or so which was fine. Then we had theatrical camp, two weeks spending every morning at church. Then we did something else, I don't remember what. I spent most of that time lying on the couch wishing for sweet death. Then just when I started to feel better, I began to display symptoms of anemia, which basically meant i didn't have any energy to do anything all day. That's a little better now. Just in time for swimming lessons! So we have 2 weeks of doing that every day.
Then I think it might settle down. Except it won't. Because we're doing these remodeling projects, like always, and hoping to MOVE out of this cracker box into something with a little more space. Otherwise we're going to have to eliminate half of our junk and buy a bunch of stuff at Ikea to make room. I'm hoping we just move.
So that's what's new. I need a nap.

Summer Sweetness

There's really nothing like being a kid in the summer. I lived on a farm for my happy childhood, so summers were pretty much the height of everything (we did not work the farm; just rented the house from a farmer). Barefoot days were spent running around in the yard and by the creek, picking dandilions, running through the sprinkler, climbing trees, and digging holes.

We just finished a fairly untimely heat wave, which reminded me about my happy childhood nights. Once or twice a week, we'd have a camp fire out in the grove and we'd roast marshmallows with my dad. Usually when the sun first started setting, we'd go out to the garden with him and do some weeding and watering. I remember one time we picked these huge tomatoes. I'd never seen such big ones before. Probably not since, either, at least not in my mind's eye.

When it was hot out, we had this water trough-turned-wading pool (it was bought for that purpose and never used for animals), that we'd spend hours in. We played the stupidest games, but it was always so fun. Other water games we played included running through the sprinker, "recycling", which was some version of pouring buckets of water into smaller buckets and through an old drain pipe and then doing it all over again, and "The Big Bazooka", which involved my older brothertying up an old bike inner tube on one end, filing it beyond capacity with water, and then the three of us hiking it up over our shoulders and parading around the yard while JOnathan decided which things to spray it at.

We went to the library a lot. Mom tried to give us some designated reading time (she called it DRAT because she was funny like that), so we'd do the reading program at the library. On really hot days, she'd check out the Star Wars trilogy or rent some Little Rascals movies from the rental store in town, and we'd spend the day inside watching those.

Most nights I slept in my rosebud wallpapered room with a nightgown and a white fan blowing on my face, with the windows wide open letting in the cooler breeze and sounds of crickets. But sometimes, it was just too hot in that old farm house. Sometimes we had these magical nights when we got to camp out in the living room with that window unit on. That is one of my favorite memories of the summers in Swisher. My mom had her own air conditioner in her bedroom window, but us kids would take our blankets and pillows downstairs, and make ourselves a comfortable corner to sleep in. I used to pretend I was camping, because I thought camping was the coolest possible thing back then.

I love those memories, those special times when the whole family was together, working and enjoying each others' company. Mom, thinking of fun things for us to do, trying to get us to read more, and putting up with wet feet tracking grass clippings through the house. Dad, tending the garden, filling the pool, coming home to his wild brood doubtlessly covered in dirt from the day. Me, Jonathan and David (and later Baby Anna), making the most of those sun-kissed days and the freedom to ride our bikes and dig holes and waste water and be kids. I'll never forget it. I'll treasure it all my life. And hopefully my kids will feel the same way about their summers when they look back.

Baby Boom

The last year has been full of people announcing pregnancies and having babies. I guess it's kind of like that year when we had a wedding every other weekend all summer. Just the age we're at right now. People have babies. But for the last year it was kind of disappointing for me too.
It never took very long to make babies before, but this time, when I REALLY wanted it, it just didn't happen. It was two years of actually trying, and one year of trying harder, with nothing to show but more mysteries and things the doctors didn't know what to do about. That's a frustrating place to be.
I guess it was so that I could have more grace with those obsessive people who really want to be pregnant adn can't just let go of it until it happens. I've never really understood that. I still don't really understand it. But I do understand wishing so hard and dreaming about that soft skin and tiny smiles and wondering if it's ever going to happen, and wondering if my body is broken beyond repair.
There's been a little wave among the people I hang out with, of pregnancy announcements. Mostly people having their seconds or thirds.
This time I was among them! With my other pregnancies I happened to be one of the few who had a baby at that time. I know. This is really interesting to most of you. So my kids are stuck between two big waves of summer babies and I didn't get to be pregnant with most of my friends. But this time, there are lots o' bellies running around in my circles of friends. I think it will be fun.
So, in the spirit of "What to Expect when You're Expecting" book, I will now answer the questions I know you all are thinking.

Q: When are you due?
I guessed December 20th as my due date, and then I had an ultrasound that confirmed it to the day! It happens to be my dad's birthday (and the day after my father-in-law's birthday).

Q: Are you going to find out what you're having?
No. well, I mean, we assume it's a baby. The gender will be a surprise. (But we both want a boy and so do the kids).

Q: Are the kids excited?
Unbelievably. For two little girls who play baby dolls all day, or pretend that they are babies, it's a dream come true.

Q: You had to take medication last time for something, right? Do you have to again?
I'm taking lovonox (blood thinner) injections every day along with 4 doses of folic acid. Otherwise it's just the normals. The injections aren't going that smoothly yet but hopefully I'll get into the swing of things sooner or later. They've just been kind of painful and left bruises. Nothing new for some folks. I'm a wimp.

Q: Is it going to be a C-section? 
Yes. After two other c's, I doubt the doctor would be convinced to do anything else. Plus, I am more at risk of bleeding to death in the case of a rupture because of the blood thinners.

Q: How are you feeling?
Pretty crappy, thanks for asking. I'm 12 weeks now and I've been feeling a little less nauseated, but this has been the worst time around by far. No vomiting, just lots of wishing I could. Also, I'm not super tired unless I don't sleep well, which is happening more than I want thanks to some kids.

Well, that's all for now folks! I'll update periodically, and I'm sorry for those of you who hate this kind of stuff. I would have made a seperate blog but I figured no one would read that one anyway, and I don't want to have to spread myself out that thin.

Nothing.

I'm still here! I think about blogging often and just... don't have the energy. But here I am. With nothing profound to say. We had a busy week with extended family visiting for the brother-in-law's wedding. It was really fun seeing everyone. I think it will take me two weeks to catch up on life, though. We kept dropping stuff at home and running out the door for the next thing. I love my in-laws. The whole lot of them. I think i can actually refer to them as a "clan" since they're Scottish. And they have a crest.
Anyway. I really will post more later. I'm just too tired out and busy right now. Especially since summer started and now I have a billion things to get done. Sooner or later, I will write substance. Promise.

New Life

A couple of weeks ago we were driving in the car and my five-year-old Arlene started telling me her plans for the future. "I want to be a missionary and a teacher and a mom. And Mom? I talked to God a lot last night."
"Oh, honey. That's good."
"Mom. Is't it strange that you can talk to God and he hears you even though you can't see him?"
"Yep."
"MOmmy, maybe sometime you or Daddy can tell me how to pray and ask Jesus in my heart."
We pulled over the car, right there by a grassy field in some new subdivision beside a garage sale sign and I prayed with her, for Jesus to forgive her and make her new and help her know him better every day.
I know it's special and I'll treasure that moment forever. I might never know all of the things I say or do that can show my daughter that God loves her, but that day it felt like I'd done something right. Like maybe it will pay off some day to be staying home with them, teaching them myself and doing all of this stuff that feels so... pointless most of the time.
I guess the best thing people hope for their kids is that they can pass on their beliefs, and that their children choose to live the right way. So I'm praying for the little seed growing in her heart, that it becomes bigger and stronger every day so that nothing in this world will pull it up or snatch it away.

Evasive Joy and Quiet Nights and what I think when I'm alone.

In the darkness tonight, driving under the stars
I'm lost staring up at Jupiter's beam
thinking about the things we lose along the way--
the poetry and songs from the beauty we drink
and how we search with open hearts
to find those things
    like one coin of ten or a pearl lost and found
And the way we rejoice
when they find us again
in peculiar places--the hard soil of years of work
or the painful dark nights when we first called it missing
they will come back, unexpected
like that planet's steady glow
 like a fire on the hill
and we will sing about the brokenness
but find ourselves whole.

A Tale of Two Friendships

A little story about coming full circle. (Right now I feel like Doogie Houser... um... did that just date me?)
This morning I went to my friend Stasia's house to drop of some jeans she'd left here when doing laundry. It was a new experience, because Stasia's lived in DC for the last four years, and in the time we've been best friends, we've been apart more than together I think. (we met on the first day of kindergarten and when I moved away in elementary school we didn't see each other a lot until high school and college). But now she's here!
Tonight I met for supper with another friend Bethany and her husband. They're leaving for missions in July. And Bethany... well, she's just always been around. We went to church together, summer camps, overnights, retreats, everything. She stayed close to home for college so we've just gotten to see a lot of each other. Now she is going far away and I will not see her very often anymore.
Two friends, who I've known most of my life. Very different roles. One moving home, the other moving far away. It's that circle of friends, the friends who walk with you on the road for a while and walk away and you never see again, and the friends who stay no matter where they are and what in life changes.
And there are all these people in between, who have tacked themselves into my timeline, people I really love and who "get" me and who've walked with me through all kinds of things. But Bethany and Stasia, well you just can't replace 25 years of friendship, of really knowing each other. Of not having to say, "Oh, well when I was in middle school, I was really into Star Trek." or "I used to have long stringy hair and lots of zits and I was a complete dork". I don't know if that means anything in the grand scheme of life, because there are other people who have seen my heart and know me as I am now.
But these gals really do know me.
There are personality pieces, nuances that get hidden in growing up, places that we don't let show and hide behind our adult masks, that belong inside of us, that make us who we are. And when we're with the people who saw us in those raw times, the moments when we were at our ugliest and worst, and even at our best and most beautiful, we become more of who we really are.
And no matter where they go, or where I go, I will always feel at home with Bethany and Stasia, the best examples of BFF's. (Cheese ball, I know. I can't help it. I'm stretching for stuff to write these days).

The "I'm Busy" post

There's been something on the calander pretty much every day this month.
I've been making time for what I like--friends and being outside with the kids, and keeping the house somewhat tidy. But it's been busy. Which is why I haven't had time to sit and write a reflective post about... anything. I've had a lot of moments within the busyness to pause and think and say to myself, "You should blog about that". But it hasn't been a priority lately because I've been busy.
I'm loving my kids' ages right now. They're so fun to do things with. The world is still new and exciting and relatively safe for them and we can go places without having to worry about diapers and sippy cups and whatever else. They're so... delightful. And it's more than I ever could have expected or wanted from life.
I've been spending most of my free time (too much of my free time) writing. I'm working on the third in a series of spin-offs and am enjoying it a lot. This story has been probably the hardest one I've ever written though. The plot hasn't come together, and even though I'm at 160-something for pages, it feels like I still haven't gotten where i want to be. If you really want to know, you can ask me and I'll ask your advice on what sub plots to cancel and what ones to expound. It's getting closer. I know where I'm headed now.
The weather has been freaky nice. Another reason for being busy. We like to play outside. All of the flowers bloomed about a month early, and we're already thinking about gardening. Although momma didn't raise no dummy. I'm not putting those plants out there until the last frost in May. Because in Iowa, it will happen. Maybe not in May but sooner or later.
THere's nothing much to say. Soon I will write more. I really will. Right now, I have other things to do. Whew.

Facebook Sucks

If your'e friends with me on facebook you might have noticed my update that said I wouldn't be checking anymore. It was a little harsh. I didn't check it for a few days. Now I've been checking only briefly. I've decided to stop fueling my boredom with life and relationships, and over filling my brain with random details about people who don't even care about me. I've decided that I need to use my computer less and instead, spend more time on the floor playing Candy Land and Memory and running outside through the mud, and picking up and doing laundry and reading. So, I will do what the wise people have been doing all along. I will stop obsessing. Stop filling every boring minute with something that bores the rest of the world. Here is my plan I wrote for myself.

How to phase out your facebook addiction:

1)Stop posting updates. You'll soon realize how much it absorbs your thoughts, and how narcissistic it is to wait for everyone's responses to your boring comments about laundry, work, the weather, and whatever other boring thing is on your mind.
2) Stop reading everyone's articles and watching their videos. A good way to do this is to check it when you don't have very much time because then you scan over the boring things and quickly realize that it was almost all boring.
3) read it when you're in a bad mood and don't give a crap about anyone's life because then you see how worthless almost everything people write on it is.
4) write letters or send cards to people you like.
5) Do not keep it running in your browser while you're doing other things. The temptation is to keep going back to see what's changed. Nothing's changed. Joe still works at 7-11. Your classmate with four kids still has a mound of laundry to do. Your aunt has planted flowers. Are you bored yet reading this?See my point? All that time you go back checking is actually a lot of time.
6) After a week or month hiatus, return yourself slowly. Think hadr before posting an update. Will it edify others? Is it really important for people to get to know you better? Is anyone going to care that you wrote it?
7) Also when you return from your hiatus, filter out things tyou don't want to read, so that you don't waste time reading about "Great Deals on Amazon" every time you try to look at your feed.
8) Do not repeat your unhealthy patterns. Find something better to replace your wandering time, like a book. Or playing a game with your kid. it is hard to do something more engaging, but I'm sure you'll find it more worth it in the end. You might discover that facebook was more of a time suck than you thought.
You might discover that your life feels a little less depressed.
You might find your days being a little more full and you might look back and wonder how you did spend that much time.
Or you might miss it and go back to what you consider to be your only social outlet. That's OK too.

So that's where I'm at with that. It will probably change, in all honesty. Things get a little boring around here. And there are people on face book that I simply CAN'T lose contact with and it's my only way of contacting them. So I won't disappear. At least not yet.

The Sisterhood of Mommy Pants.

The other night I was in a group of women who all didn't know each other that well, and inevitably,, the conversation turned to "that" subject.
The one that used to alienate me.
The one I really loathed talking about.
Babies. Pregnancy. Delivery. And all of the things that go along with that.
My pregnancies actually kind of sucked. Each one has been worse in its own way.
But there I was, at a table. Telling them about my C-sections. Why? Because it's one of those safe subjects now. The thing that we all know we have in common. The thing that we care about it in our own lives. The Sisterhood of Mommy Pants.

How things have changed since I was 19, newly married and utterly alone in a sea of pleasure-seeking, independent college students with expendable (parents') income and copious free time. I was terrible at small talk. I could never think of something to say. And even when I wanted to, I couldn't relate. Worse yet, no one could relate with me. I was working my 40-hour a week job, putting D through school. Getting up at 7 AM (which might as well be 5 am to a college student) to drive 40 miles to that place I hated, making just more than minimum wage and very carefully budgeting every penny we earned.
Those were things that were conversation killers. They'd talk about cute guys and dating relationships and their hopes for future careers. We were on different wavelengths.
As a young twenty, it wasn't much better. But slowly, as I've gotten older, I've gotten better at this art of "small talk". Which I still hate. which I still feel is awkward.
Which is so necessary to connect in any way.
It isn't like kindergarten, when you didn't even have to say your name to be able to go and play on the playground for all of recess. Now we have to start at some level. And the level is always this shallow, distant place, where we wander and wade through these meaningless subjects, hoping to find something we can relate with. Looking for those few in the vast majority, the :"ones" who can be your bosom friend, who really "get" you. Who you can actually be real with.
We have to find a place of common ground to even begin a conversation.
So often for me right now, that place is kids--from conception to elementary school. What we ate while pregnant, what we wish we'd known, how we survived. How we wear bigger jeans now. Sisterhood of the Mommy Pants.
So often now I'm bored talking about kids and pregnancy and deliveries and all of the details around it. But that's where friendships start.At a place that we all have in common--whether it's the neighborhood, the church, the park, our husband's jobs, our same model car, or our same-aged kids.
I'd rather talk about philosophy and music and politics and what makes people tick. Or history or writing or literature or even the weather.
But here's where we are. With a 3 and 5-year-old, submerged in this world of sippy cups and bedtime songs and baths. And sometimes we just have to share it with each other. Please don't misunderstand me. This is what I do. And I love my friends and I like meeting new people. There's just this part of me that gets so trapped and tired, and I think it will always be there, wanting something different than these everyday things.
I want to move past babies and birth and bed time and first words and evening activities and minivans and get into things that matter, that make me think.
I should resolve to be less of a push-over in conversation and try to direct the topics more carefully. But I don't, because I feel I'm missing out on some of the communication skills most people have, and I don't want to feel misunderstood, and I don't want to be that awkward girl who always makes people uncomfortable.
But, secretly, I want to make you uncomfortable.
More so, I want to make you comfortable. I want to be real so that you're OK being real too. I want to be the kind of person that listens, who doesn't jump to conclusions, who cares, and who brings wisdom to the table.
But most often, I just talk about babies with you and hope that some day we can discuss other things. And that's OK too. One can't be too choosy when it comes to having friends. And friends who share every day life are just as important as friends who share matters of the heart. Different roles, but at the end of the day, we're all walking together and helping each other along. So I shouldn't complain or let myself feel that emptiness like I do.
Because I'm thankful that I'm not stuck in limbo land like I was in those college years. I'm thankful that I have all of these people who are on the same road at the same time. It's invaluable.
So....Tell me about your pregnancy and delivery. ;)

Deferred Pain

It happened again today. Infant loss in everyday life. It's because really it's an every day part of life. Babies dying. But it hurts. Like a bruise that's only painful when touched, it lays there in my heart, dormant most of the time. But always there.
It used to hit me like a punch in the stomach, and I'd get sick all over.
Then, as a year passed, it turned more into this lingering sadness that welled up into tears.
Then it became unpredictable like a windy day. Sometimes the reaction barely showed. Sometimes it would blow in fierce and strong, bringing painful sobs. Sometimes I would see the detestation afterwards, laying in bed at the end of the day feeling a darkness lingering over my soul.
Now it doesn't hurt like a punch in the stomach.
But it still hurts.
And it always catches me by surprise. when a friend calls and says that her brother's lost his baby at seven months into the pregnancy.
Or I pick up a book and find the first chapter centrs around a baby's death.
When I read the name Grace written somewhere.
The ache is dull sometimes, but it's always there. And sometimes the sharpness is all I can handle.
Sometimes I just have to cry.
And sometimes I carry it inside and don't realize it until the next day or days afterwards, when I've just felt down without a reason. It hurts less every year. But I think it will always hurt, that sting of death. That burden of grief that's settled in my soul. And I think it's OK for it to be like that. Because I know one day it won't be anymore. And missing her makes me long for it even more.

Middle School

I've been thinking about middle school lately. It keeps coming back to my thoughts, these memories of being a stringy-haired 80-pound nerd-girl and walking to school and hating my teachers.
I wish I could see myself back then, walking the halls of Wilson school, a mixture of insecurity and outspokenness weaving between all of the friends and rivals.
I wasn't a really good student.
But I was a good kid.
The teachers liked me, at least most of them did. I did my homework and stayed out of the way, participated in class and minded my own business. I didn't break the rules and chew gum or use pen to do my homework. I didn't forget assignments at home or lose my math book. But I was lonely.
I didn't realize that the kids I went to school with were different than me. That probably more than half of them were sad kids from broken homes who hated their lives. What's it like to hate your life at age 13? I don't really know, because things were pretty good for me. I wasn't popular and I never felt like I had good friends in middle school, but I could lug that backpack and French horn home at the end of the day and my mom was there waiting. And my dad took me out on bike rides and my brothers played Nintendo with me. And the neighbor kids would come over and we could still play make-believe once in a while, even though we were supposed to be too old for it.
I didn't realize that most of the kids at school didn't have families like that. I wish I had, because it might have made me a little less righteous, a little more understanding. It might have helped me know why some kids just weren't nice. It might have made me a better friend.
I have so many memories from those three short years. And the best part about it is, even though I know living the day-to-day of tweenage angst was in no way pleasant, I mostly have good memories of that old school on the hill and the kids that went to it with me. I spent most of sixth grade writing really long stories in neon notebooks and drawing pictures while everyone else took notes. In seventh grade I just survived and wished that my mom would home school me every day. Then in eighth grade I made friends with two girls named Sara and we hung out the rest of the year and things were much more bearable then. I also realized that I'd been trying way too hard in school and I could still get pretty good grades without trying too hard. So I stopped trying as hard. I stopped doing things that would make me be popular because they weren't working, and I stopped caring too. My homeroom teacher that year was awesome and thankfully, we had a sort of understanding. I'm pretty sure I was one of the two smartest kids in the class, so I could pretty much get away with anything.
If I could go back to middle school, I wouldn't.
I would leave all of the angsty days and heavy backpacks and baggy overalls and hairpsray right where it belonged, in the early nineties. I would keep the good memories with the bad there on the shelf, seeing what they made me into in the years that followed. And if you looked back, you would see me there, scribbling down stories in the wireless notebooks with a bic mechanical pencil, hiding novels to read inside of text books, chewing giant wads of gum, and just holding my breath to the end of the day, when I could hurry home to watch Batman and hang out with my neighbors and my brothers. You would see me trying my hardest to do the right thing, even when it made me less popular. You would see a little girl praying every night for a best friend, who, looking back, discovered that she'd had one all along, and He never once left me alone. Even in the halls of middle school terror.

Wasting Time

I just read this article about how we spend our time. How people say "I don't have time for that" when really, they do. Because we spend a lot of time sitting around doing nothing when if we spent that time doing something productive, we'd find ourselves having more available time. It also mentioned that people say they work 70-hour weeks, but often it's more like 50. The writer had started keeping track of his time, writing down how much he spent doing what. And it was eye-opening.
I don't think i want to d othat because it might be convicting. sometimes I sit here, wanting something more to happen on internet world, while the real world is busy doing important, meaningful things. Sometimes I decide to watch a show while i fold laundry, and long after I'm done folding laundry, I'm still sitting there watching the show. There are so many other ways I could spend my time and I've known it for a long time. And I have all of these excuses for why i don't--I'm tired, I need my energy for the kids, I can do it later after they're in bed, I don't need to do that, etc. etc. etc.
And maybe I don't have to squeeze every last drop of time out of my slow-paced days. I don't have a lot of scheduled things because I don't like having to be places. But maybe if I spent even an hour more cleaning the house, I wouldn't always feel like I live in a disaster area. And maybe if I spent a half hour more reading my Bible, the days would go smoother. And maybe if I used my time more wisely, I wouldn't be in a hurry to "finish" playing with my kids and go do "more important" things.
I've been praying lately about this very topic, about being more committed to knowing God and actually working at knowing Him. And this is probably a good chunk of the answer. But here I am, on the computer again.

My Valentine

I'd planned to do all kinds of sweet things for Valentine's day. i was going to make little heart-shaped sandwiches for the kids and then bake cookies with them. I was going to go shopping and find the perfect card to give to Daniel. I was going to wear something cute and have teh house all cleaned up when he got home.
None of those things happened. Arlene was sick, and JJ compensated for the attention Arlene got by being extra belligerent and annoying. I didn't get the house cleaned. I didn't get anything done. And Daniel worked until after 7 pm so we weren't together anyway. By the time he came home, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed.
I finally understood how women say that they're not in the mood for anything romantic, because they're too stressed out from their day with kids. I was wearing a frumpy sweatshirt and fuzzy slippers and I could hardly talk myself into moving off of the couch. Ther was never any pressure, except from myself. Daniel didn't expect anything magical. Especially since he wasn't even home for supper. (He did come home at lunch and give me flowers and candy and a cute card, so it wasn't like he hadn't held up his end.)
It was a pretty bad day, really. Worse than the usual ones. And I know most people think Valentine's Day is stupid and worthless, but I like it, and since I hate sappy things, I think it's OK for me to allow myself one day a year to actually like a little bit of romance and sap. So I was disappointed with how it went.
Then we went upstairs and watched our tradition movie that we watch every Valentine's Day. And he gave me chocolate and took care of the kids, and at the end of the night, it just didn't feel like it had been that bad. Because that's what being married is like. You fill in the holes. You don't build up unrealistic expectations. You do what needs to get done for each other, and you hold each other at the end of the day.
I love my valentine. He's so good at encouraging me, and he loves me even when I'm a frumpy disaster.

For the record, we had our valentine's "date" on Saturday, so there really wasn't any good reason to celebrate yesterday anyway. But what can I say. I like chocolate.

Where do we go from here

Lately I've been pretty wrapped up in myself. It isn't like a diva thing. I've been busy helping the kids and planning this valentine's event at church and visiting with relatives and on and on with other things.
Today we stopped at the salvation army to look for a couple of items, and we were talking about how some kids don't have toys. Arlene and JJ thought it would be nice to give toys to some kid who doesn't have any. And i realized I don't really know any people who could use toys. It made me sad. And I don't really know how to change that. I guess i do know, but I'm not sure how to drag my kids along for things like that. It's this lingering question that's been bugging me for a while.

Face Lift

I think my page needs a face lift. I, however, have no idea how to update it. I've noticed that it's a lot easier than it was when I first made this page. I copied someone else's code to make this one. So if someone wants to come over and help me fix it up, I'd LOVE it. otherwise, I'm going to slowly lose readers because it's boring and bland. Hm.

The Marriage of Joy and Sorrow

3 years ago today was a glorious day! I finished the long journey of the worst pregnancy ever. I held that little baby in my arms and thanked God for bringing us through, for showing us His mercy once more and for the perfect gifts He gives.
Jayna Joy came, bringing victory and new beginnings.

And the joy I feel when I think about that day is so deep and real, because I've walked through on the other end, when the darkness and grief pull from every direction and linger in all of the closets and corners of my heart.

4 years ago was not a glorious day. It was a terrible day. I remember driving to the doctor and a stupid song I hated came on the radio called "Do it anyway" and I turned it off and I felt like crying. And that baby inside of me had already left and joined the chorus of angels in heaven.

And the days that followed brought out every emotion inside of me, all of the things I'd bottled up.
The weeks and months that came after that were so heavy and dark. So cold and lonely. It was a long winter, walking through the mire of guilt and loss and irrevocable pain. I've never been the same.

And I don't know how to seperate the two things, that joy and sorrow. Without the sorrow, the joy would mean so much less. It wouldn't carry with it all of the promises and hope that it does now. But without the joy, it seems the sorrow wouldn't lift. So maybe it's OK that they're married to each other. And every year, I have to remember them both. I don't want to ignore my baby Grace in hopes that the pain will go away.

I don't want the pain to leave, though. Because in so many ways, it's the only thing I have that lets me hold on to her.

I've loved Steven Curtis Chapman's song "Spring is Coming" since I first heard it. On his latest album, he wrote a sort of sequel to the original version, which he sings right after "Morning Has Broken", which I also love. I love God's hope. And I don't know what I'd do or where I'd be without it.


Spring Is Coming Reprise

The sky lost its sun and the world lost its green to lifeless brown
Now the chill in the wind has turned the Earth hard as stone
And silent the seed lies beneath ice and snow
And my heart’s heavy now, but I’m not letting go
Of this hope I have that tells me

(Chorus)
Spring is coming, Spring is coming
And all we’ve been hoping and longing for
Soon will appear
Spring is coming, Spring is coming
It won’t be long now
It’s just about here

Hear the birds start to sing
Feel the life in the breeze
Watch the ice melt away
The kids are coming out to play
Feel the sun on your skin
Growing strong and warm again
Watch the ground
There’s something moving
Something is breaking through
New life is breaking through

Repeat Chorus

Spring is coming (Out of these ashes beauty will rise)
Spring is coming (Sorrow will be turned to joy)
All we’ve been hoping and longing for (All we’ve hoped for)
Soon will appear (soon will appear)
Spring is coming (Out of the darkness beauty will shine)
Spring is coming (All Earth and Heaven rejoice)
It won’t be long now (Spring is coming soon)
It’s just about here (Spring is coming soon)

Bad Birthdays

Every few years, a birthday comes that just simply sucks. No one remembers it. You don't have a cake. Or you get a terrible headache.
For my sweet sixteen, my friends planned a surprise party. I had sort of caught on, but I wasn't sure. I found out about it because my mom kept answering phone calls from people who were asking if it was still on, because of the snow storm. It was a really bad snow storm. we got more than a foot, i think. The party (and everything else in town) was cancelled. I laid in bed and cried, because my birthday was ruined. And really, no one (except my family) did anything to make up for it.
That was my worst birthday ever.
Until my thirtieth. Which was two weeks ago, and I still keep coming back to it, feeling disappointed. Maybe I just expect too much. My mom always makes them special, and she wasn't around, since she was at Mayo with my dad getting ready for his heart surgery. She's off the hook. But anyway, I guess it come sback to expectations, and should a grown woman really think that she shouldn't have to make supper or do anything she doesn't want to one day a year? I'd just spent two weeks with the "holidays" which were busier than usual. And then everyone went back to work, and my birthday was pretty much an afterthought. If a thought at all.
No presents. No cake. Just a bunch of people on facebook who never bother to talk to me any other day of the year saying "Happy Birthday" (and others who do talk with me regularily as well). It's supposed to be a milestone to turn thirty.
It came on a brown warm day in the middle of the week, with a migraine and a depressed feeling all day. I called Daniel at five and asked him to come home, and then I went and laid in bed and tried to make my headache go away. And cried.
I shouldn't complain, because some people did call. Some people did what they'd normally do. My best friend called first thing in the morning. My brother called and sang the stupid "You look like a monkey" song. Later he brought some left over cake he'd made for supper. A cuople of other friends called too, and I don't like talking on the phone a lot, but I like it when people remember I exist once in a while. And my brother and sister in law took me out for lunch. So it wasn't terrible.
It was just... just like any other normal, or slightly bad, day. And in my mind, birthdays aren't supposed to be like that.
But, for all of the bad birthdays, there have been several good ones too. Like my thirteenth, which was probably my favorite. Three of my favorite girlfriends came over. We went and saw Little Women in the theater (which has become one of my favorite movies), and stayed up all night talking. And then we went sledding the next morning.
And my nineteenth, when pretty much all of the people I liked came over to go sledding (yes, there is a theme here. It pretty much always snows by my birthday) and they brought presents, and we came back to the house and had cake.Plus, I'd just gotten engaged so everything that happened that year was great.
I think on my seventh birthday, my friend Stasia stayed the night, and then she had to stay at least one more day, because the whole driveway got iced over and we lived in the country so the drifts were too big. We thought that was pretty great.
And since it seems to be a pattern of prime numbers being great birthdays, I'll just mention, my third birthday was pretty great too. I had a ducky cake, and my grandma came. She gave me a red "Going to Grandma's" suitcase which I still have. I also got from someone, this really cool birthday cake puzzle, which I still have and is still one of the best toys I ever owned.
So they aren't all terrible by any meals. Maybe 31 will be the best yet. I guess I can wait a year and find out.

Winter!

Facebook is abuzz with stupid statuses about the weather. Mostly people wishing it weren't so cold, or trying to sound like they aren't complaining, but they are. It's been a VERY warm winter around here, and these Texas transplants are getting spoiled.
A handful of us are pretty excited about the snow that came in the night. Me being included in that rank. I love it. It brings out the best of me. I love the white haze that comes from the sunlight deflecting through it all. I love the wind making it stay in the air longer and tossing it all over so it looks like a snow globe out the window. I love making footprints and snow angels, and watching the little girls' get rosy cheeks, and pulling them in the sled and living out their wonder. I love mittens and hats and puffy coats and snowpants and boots. And I love being warm inside, watching the white gather around me.
I'm thankful for the warmth here at home (and I will be spending my afternoon taping shrink wrap over the windows, thank you very much 1946), and that I get to be a stay at home mom and enjoy these days with my kids, rather than trudging out into the cold only to go to work. It's great. Everything about today is great. Warm tea and hot chocolate and now the kids are upstairs watching Curious George plays in Snow while I think about cleaning the house.
I don't have anywhere to go today.
And if more days were like today, I would probably be content. Maybe we should move further north. Probably I'd be sick of snow if we lived anywhere but here. I like having tastes of bitter cold Alaska weather, and mostly just enjoying fairly moderate seasons.
SOmetimes I have days like this, when things go so well, and the weather is so right, and I feel this deep sense of gratitude. Like things just couldn't get any better than they are in this moment. And I just have to say "Thank you".

I Blame it on National Geographic

I've had wanderlust lately.
Going three hours away to Rochester doesn't count as a "vacation" or a trip.
we love to travel and see places, but it's gotten a little more complicated with the kids. I love going all over and seeing new things and landmarks and eating at restaurants and staying in hotels. I like camping and being adventurous and meeting people in other states. I'm glad I've gotten to do it a lot in the last ten years. My family never went anywhere except Montana.
Sometimes though, I see pictures of faraway places, or talk with people who have traveled overseas. I hear abou tfoods they tried and the languages, and riding trains and crazy taxi cab drivers and unbelievable scenery, and I feel sort of sad inside. Because I'll never be a world traveler. I've never left this continent. It shouldn't make me sad, because most people really don't travel far from home.
I blame National Geographic.
My grandpa has been a subscriber since the before the 40's. He has shelves of archives, full of beautiful pictures and scenery and people that only the privilidged photographers have seen. We had a gift subscription of NG when I was a kid, and I'd wait for each issue and then I'd devour it. Even before i could read, I would sit and look them through, page by page, wondering what kinds of places the pictures were taken in, what kind of lives those people lived. And I find myself still doing that today.
Wondering. Wishing. Trying to be content in this 800-square-foot box in the "OK" part of town where cooking and cleaning and supervising preschoolers is all I really do.
Hoping for some day when I'll actually see the ocean.

Mayo

I've been up at the Mayo clinic in Minnesota for the last day and a half. Dad had a scheduled heart surgery taking place. He has had a bad valve in one of his arteries for his whole life and it's slowly gotten worse at working. It's sort of a long story, but yesterday was the "Big Day". The surgeon replaced the bad valve and the surgery went well. He's recovering now, and will stay here for a few more days. He's hooked up to electric leads and IV"s and other tubes.
We sat around a lot yesterday. My brothers, my sister-in-law and my cousin Becky. We sat with my mom and waited for news. Waited to get moved to different places around the hsopital. Waited for the all clear. Open heart surgery is a big deal. But it didn't really hit me until afterwards. That was when I realized they'd pried open his chest and sliced his heart and put in a replacement part. It's an amazing thing. It's remarkable.
And if one finger had slipped, if one machine had failed to do its job, if one person had sneezed at the wrong time... the story could have ended differently. I am so very thankful that everything went so well. He's recovering so quickly too. I'm praising God. I'm thanking you all for prayers (if you prayed), and I'm praying that we never have to do anything like that again.
I'm staying the night here again, and my little family will be joining me pretty soon. I like the peace and quiet here now. And i like the Mayo clinic. They're pretty freaking amazing. Makes all of the other hospitals I've been in look podunk and unorganized. which isn't true. But this place is so much cooler.
I guess that's all I have to say on this matter.

My Dad's Heart

Thoughts after seeing my dad fresh from open heart surgery

My Dad’s Heart

He laid alone on the sterile table

Those strong hands that carried me

And tucked me into bed at night

That folded in prayer

And fixed the broken things

now filled with tubes

weakened and tired

His ruddy face yellow and pale

The smile faded into a quiet stare

Those twinkling eyes barely able to open.

They said they fixed his heart

But what they don’t know

Is that heart never needed a thing

Because in all my life

No man has had a better heart

One that holds the Lord in high esteem

And cares about those things so many overlook

That holds more passion in these latter years

Than it did in its youthful days of protests and social turmoil

A heart which beats in its steady way

Leading those around him

Full of life.

And in these days that follow

The surgeon’s knife

It will repair and grow stronger

Never the same

Except for the soul that beats behind

The flesh and bones of mortal energy

Which does not fade or change

As the years go by.