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.

Caucuses

I am planning on going tonight. It's not really like voting. You sit around and discuss with your neighbors and then you raise your hand to cast your vote. I like it like that.Unfortunately, I'm not super sold on any candidate, but why would I ever be super sold on a dude (or chick) who thinks they can fix the world themselves? Just sayin.

From Alice in Wonderland:


`What IS a Caucus-race?' said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that SOMEBODY ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything.
`Why,' said the Dodo, `the best way to explain it is to do it.' (And, as you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell you how the Dodo managed it.)
First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (`the exact shape doesn't matter,' it said,) and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no `One, two, three, and away,' but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out `The race is over!' and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking, `But who has won?'
This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, `EVERYBODY has won, and all must have prizes.'