Thriftiness

I've been wincing every time the cashier reads the total off at the grocery store. Prices aren't ideal, and with the economy working the way it is, there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. I hear a lot of people complaining about it, offering their opinions on how it should be fixed, and worrying about what they'll do if things get "worse". Seems the popular opinion is that the government is to blame. And of course, they are. But I wonder how many of us are contributing to it by spending more than our resources allow, by throwing out things that could be salvaged, by spending more on clothes and food than we need to, or by just buying things that we don't need and can't truly afford.

I definitely fall into that category, way too often. I'd rather just get the pair of jeans full price and have them. I want a nicer house and a nicer car and newer clothes and better appliances. And I want them now. I don't want to sit around for six months, watching newspaper ads and garage sales to find a better price. I want a lot of things, and I stretch my income so that I can have many of them. But our grandparents and great-grandparents would warn us not to be so foolish. They saw what happened when people spent money they didn't have for things they wanted.

And I think we're seeing the same thing. Saving is so undervalued. Maybe we should take a lesson from the Scout Law.

A SCOUT IS THRIFTY, that is, he saves every penny he can, and puts it in the bank, so that he may have money to keep himself when out of work, and thus not make himself a burden to others; or that he may have money to give away to others when they need it.

I wonder how many people think they've got everything in order financially, but will find at the loss of a job or a major expense, that they aren't as set as they thought? Suddenly, the things they're used to buying cost too much, and they don't know how to cut back and do without.

Saving is hard, though. I'm not necessarily talking about making a savings account. I'm talking about making more money available out of what you have. Maybe I'm talking about "penny pinching". I don't understand why people are so willing to complain about how much things cost, but aren't willing to find a way to do without, make their own, or get it on sale. Are they afraid that people will think they're cheap?

Sometimes when I do things to save money, I have that creeping worry that someone will think I don't have enough money to pay for something better. But really, what difference does it make? Maybe I don't have the money. Maybe I put it toward something I like more. Or maybe I am cheap. It's not anyone's business. Being willing to save money in things I purchase for myself allows me freedom to be generous when others are in need.

I know this probably sounds like preaching, and I wasn't planning for it to, but, since everyone seems to be at liberty to express their views on how to fix the American economy and whose fault it is anyway, I think I should be able to also.

The Sunbird Pirates

That title sounds like the title of a book, but it's actually the title of last Thursday. We had a stressful week. The worst part was Thursday morning when we got a call from an area business, asking us to move our car out of their parking lot. Why was it there? We hadn't put it there. We'd left it at another parking lot right by our house (legally).
Long story short, someone stole our beater car (which we got for free) and went for a little joy ride before ripping it apart and stealing everything they could from it. I don't feel like philosiphising about how painful it is to have something like that happen to you, but it's been a long few days thinking about it.
We're OK. We have another car that Daniel can take to work until we get a replacement. The police have the car as evidence and will search it. They're treating this as a crime, same as if the car were worth a lot of money. We should hear more from the security of the place where our car had been parked (they have cameras in their parking lot), and maybe get some clues about what happened.
But, that's about all the update I want to give. It's all really stupid and makes us mad. And, if anyone has a car they want to get rid of for under $800, let me know. And, if anyone has Amy Grant or Steven Curtis Chapman CD's they don't want anymore, let me know (Daniel lost his whole collection).
And pray that they catch the pirates.

Pregnancy

It's been a while and people are asking how it's going, so I thought I'd inform the masses so you can all tell each other and I don't have to. :oD Or you can ask too.

On Friday I thought I was going into labor because I was having painful contractions at frequent intervals. It was OK. When i called they told me specifically what to look for, and as the day went on, I felt better and decided not to worry about it. The weekend was good, but I had a lot of cramps (not contractions, just cramps). So I called today and they called back and told me just to come in and have an ultrasound and they would test a hormone level to make sure I wasn't getting ready to go into labor. The ultrasound looked good, and I really wasn't worried, but I'm the kind of person who does what they're told and then asks questions later. I felt like something was weird because the lady who did the ultrasound had me wait while she talked to the doctor before telling me everything was OK, and then she asked if I had an appointment coming up (it's next Friday). So I was glad, but a little uneasy thinking there was something not terribly urgent that they wanted the doctor to tell me at my next appointment.

Apparently I worry too much. Dr. Pickering called me about an hour later and just said he was glad to see that ultrasound was OK and everything looked great. He's a really nice guy. He said he understood this was probably a difficult time since it's the same gestational week when I lost Grace (25), and he just wanted to check and make sure I was OK. He said the don't be afraid to call thing, and then he added, "We all know who you are here," which I found amusing. He's a really great guy.

So, anyway, things look to be OK in the womb, which is reassuring. I worry a lot, and I don't want to. Daniel's been working really long hours trying to get their project ready for a flight demo, which has now been pushed back a little. They're planning a 2-week-long trip for him. :o( So I have long days, if anyone wants to hang out. And I need to get supper ready.

Playing solitaire all night... with a deck of 51.

So... what's more pathetic? The fact that I felt the urge to share my solitaire score with all of my blog readers?
That my score was actually almost twice that last night?
Or the fact that I'm playing that much solitaire in the first place? (In my defense, my husband is away this week...)

Sometimes I just play the stupid card games so I can think through something. like when I'm writing and need to think of what will happen next or how to word something. It seems like an effective tool. Probably not time-saving, however. I am curious, though, if anyone else manages to win at "Vegas style" solitaire, or if I'm a prodigy and should pack up and go to Vegas tonight to win me some big money?

Politics

I have to vent. I don't think I can make it to November.

One of the first "hard lessons" we learn in life is "Don't believe everything you hear". What I want to know is, if that's the case, and we have that lesson ingrained in us to distrust society so much, then why do so many people believe every piece of media regarding political campaigns? Even if they're just believing what they choose to believe as fact, shouldn't they still be finding out whether or not it's true? Examining the context? Looking for reliability of "witnesses" and credibility of their sources?

I've always been pretty politically interested. I was a history major. I planned to be a social studies teacher. I served as a representative at the county Republican convention, and I have, since age 18, been to the polls to vote every two years. I stood on the side of a highway campaigning on election day when I was in college. And I think I will, in the future, continue to "help out" during campaign years, and fight for whatever causes I believe in. But. I have never been so sick--and sickened by politics as I am this year. I'm really just tired of it. So there. Now you know. If you're planning to strike up a political debate with me, count me out. I don't care anymore. I've decided who I'm voting for based on what I think is important. And I don't think that more mud slinging will change my mind.

What I Should Have Said

Yesterday someone asked me, in a conversation about my recovery from grief, how God had been part of it. I didn't know what to say because I suck at talking and answering deep questions on the spot, but when I thought about it later, I wished I'd said so many things.
One of them being how joy and sorrow are so closely linked, and how it's actually hard to find joy without sorrow or trial. At least for me. I know of a lot of people with deeply rooted joy that just flows out o knowing God and understanding His love.
But I've never been that way. Partly because of my intellect blocking out so many feelings, and partly because I'm not a feely person. Not that joy is a feeling, it's more of an understanding. Anyway, there are numerous reasons for my lack of joy, which has always felt like a problem to me. I wanted it, but no matter how I searched or what answer I thought I knew, there was some piece of it missing. Not that I knew what it was. I mean, I have everything I need for life and godliness through my knowledge of him who called me according to his own glory and goodness. So there should have been joy.
But, there were parts of God I didn't fully know or understand before experiencing tragedy. And I think that so much of Christian joy--the confident assurance of God's provision and care despite any circumstance--is discovered in those kinds of things. Like it says in James 1:2 "Count it all joy my brothers, when you are faced with trials and temptations, for the testing of your faith develops perseverence". Now there is a deeper knowledge of His goodness, His kindness, and His faithfulness, that can't be found in day-t0-day things.

I hope that makese sense. I'm not saying others don't know joy. I'm really just talking about myself, and the healing of my heart.

Be Still

Last night I was paranoid and anxious--very common feelings these days--about my pregnancy. Worried about things I knew I shouldn't worry about. Usually I can move on past those thoughts, but sometimes they come and bury me and I dwell on them and worry grows like a tree that shades my heart and mind.
I hadn't felt the baby move very much that day, even though I'd had an over abundance of caffine, and I was worried something could be wrong. It's stupid, but you aren't allowed to make fun of me. Anyway, when I worried out loud, Daniel prayed for me and the baby. Then, for the rest of the night (in bed, mind you), the baby wouldn't stop kicking. Ahh. That's just what I need for a good night's sleep. And I'm not being sarcastic. I now have trouble sleeping if I don't feel kicking.
Anyway, because of said caffine, I still had trouble falling asleep, so as I lay awake, praying for a friend of mine, and thanking God that this baby is still OK, He spoke to me. Quite familiar words, heard so often.

Be still and know that I am God.

And I realized my lack of faith, which I want so badly to have, is partly because I've been too busy listening to myself think and worrying and fretting, so I couldn't hear His voice speaking in the quiet. Be still. He's there with me, in presence rich and full. And, just like the baby inside who isn't easily felt in the busyness of a day, it takes being still to feel it and know it's there.

On the Exclusivity of Christian Communities

I've read a lot of articles and thoughts about the importance of community, how we're made to fellowship and exist in relationships. Most recently was an article about why so many people appreciate Islam, because of the brotherhood it offers for outsiders.

Clearly, "community" is something big the church has to offer, and perhaps, in this day and age, the most appealing thing a church can offer. But what happens, when there is an appealing community that one so desires to be a part of, but they don't "fit in"? I think that's a very dangerous place for a church or small group to get to. If, in your intimacy and friendship, you don't feel comfortable letting others enter, what's the point of having an appealing community? While it's great to encourage the brethren, our fellowship has a deeper purpose: "By this all men will know that you are my disciples if you love one another". Big deal if they see you are His disciples, but you aren't willing to love the ones who aren't in the "one another" category. By love, I mean accept into your community.

I don't have a specific community in mind. And I perhaps have the longest way to go in improving my including skills. It's just something I've thought about a lot, maybe because I feel alienated so often. Accepted, but not included, as Brian would always say. But it worries me when some people who need that extra family and don't find it in the church. The pain of feeling rejected or alienated can push a person away and cause them to search somewhere else. If you're lucky, it's another church. But I think, in the minds of many unbelievers, all churches are the same. That thought frightens me. That maybe that scruffy blue collar guy who smells like smoke, that unwed pregnant girl, that drug-addicted kid with long hair and ACDC tee-shirt, that estranged couple--they're trying this Christian group this one time, and if it doesn't work out, they'll never step foot in another church.

Not that it's all up to us, but I think that we can at least do our best to not "shun the unbeliever" (sorry, I had to put the Charley reference there. It was too perfect), to push aside our inhibitions and say "hi, glad you're here", or invite a person to your small group, to smile at someone who most people look away from, to be like Jesus and invite the social rejects to come and see who He is.

Fashion Questions

Things I think about when I go shopping:
Why was it, when I was a kid, if I wore pants that were too short, they were something to be made fun of, but now they're cool?
Why do short women and big women get their own section in a store ? What about tall women? Tall men get their own section. I don't think that's fair.
Why did they stop measuring bra sizes with the D? Why couldn't they have had E, F, and G instead of DD DDD and DDDD? I think that's confusing.

Update on Me

I realized that some of you read this blog to get updated on my life, and I don't usually have a lot to say. That hasn't changed, but I don't know who reads this, and so if I don't say important information, you might get passed by in receiving it.
So. Here's the latest news. If you're wondering because you never see me, I "Still don't have a belly", although it portrudes quite enough, thank you. I guess it's pretty small for this phase, but I've never been very big on the outside. I just get all of my ribs displaced as the baby grows.
And now the good news: On Wednesday the 3rd I had my regular 20 week OB checkup, and for ONCE it was good news! The dr. said "What's up with this perfect ultrasound?" My hemorrhage was gone without a trace, and all of the baby's organs were growing like they should and looking good. (In the last pregnancy there was something with the kidneys which became a non issue, but of course it was present in my mind this time around). We did find out the gender, but if you wanna know that, you'll have to ask in person or in email. :o) Needless to say, we're all rejoicing and glad that things are good now.
I couldn't say I'm done worrying since the hemorrhage is gone, since we lost Grace at 25 weeks.
The first week in October might drudge up some painful memories of that. I know the calander doesn't really coincide with anyone else's by my own, but you always compare pregnancies and remember the different phases (or at least I do), so prayers are always welcome.
I suspect after this pregnancy hits that point, I might feel even more at ease, but thankfully, I can always rest assured that we're both being held in Big Hands (not to be confused with Bigfoot). Plus, my best friend prophesied this baby with a dream that she was watching Arlene while I went to the hospital in labor. j/k. Although, she also sort of prophesied Arlene. But that's a whole-nother story.

Writer's Block

If you look back at some of my posts from before I ever had kids, you might be surprised at how much more profound and better-written they were (at least in my opinion). There's poetry, too. But some how, getting pregnant sapped most of my creativity from me. It's really strange. It happened with Arlene first. After she was born, I had some free time with her sitting in the little bouncy chair beside me, and I could write more. Until she started crawling. Then I just didn't have as much time. Now, again, I see, my creativity is lacking in depth and color. It drives me nuts because there's no realy good explanation. Maybe I'm tired, and hormones make me think strangely, but what I'm thinking about today is how I could write when I was pregnant with Grace. I had so many ideas and thoughts and things to get down on paper. I started three new stories and re-wrote at least one.
Even after the still birth, in the depth of my sorrow, I found many things to say and no audience to say them to. Which means my journal and poetry flourished. I wrote some pretty good fiction then, too.
Now that I'm pregnant again, the same creativity halt has been placed in my brain, and I'm out of good ideas. Well... what good ideas I do have, mostly I forget about between running out for groceries and diapers and whatever else, chasing after Arlene, and trying to sleep in my spare time. Maybe I'm just too busy to stop and contemplate like I've been able to in past years. Maybe it's just this phase of life that keeps me stopped up. But even when I've been busy before, I've been able to fit some time in and, the in those blessed quiet moments, I could scribble down all of the thoughts and ideas that had come to me in the busyness.
I hope it comes back. Because I don't really want to write children's books about picking up blocks and eating your peas... and I miss my poetic ramblings. I'm sure you all do too (just kidding).
I don't have much of a point here. I just felt like complaining. And... I guess, whether or not there's a good purpose, I want to keep saying something so I'll be in practice when better ideas pop up. As the saying goes, "When you can't think of anything to say, say it". Oops. Maybe that's not so applicable here.

One of those Days

Maybe I didn't sleep well last night. Or all week. Something today is making me feel really cranky. I think it's my whiney baby. I'm slightly sick. When I made Daniel lunch this morning, I realized that my tupperware supply has diminished significantly in the last six months, and that made me mad. Then Arlene wanted to crawl all over me and jab me with her feet and elbows.
While I tried to fold laundry, she crawled all around and over me, messing up my folds and piles. Then when i went to empty the water from the dishwasher hose, I missed the sink and spilled all over myself and while I changed my clothes Arlene whined at me, worried about the mess on the floor.
I'm not typically affected by other peoples' moods and actions, but this little girl can change my whole day. And today... I feel like SCREAMING.

Not that you all wanted to know that, but I don't have any adults to talk to yet, so I had to say it somewhere. :o)

In Praise of Nostalgic Heroes

Probably, if you talk to anyone, the "best" cartoons that were ever on, were the ones showing when they were kids. I'm no exception. I am sad to say, unlike my husband, I watched a lot of TV when I was younger. Mostly because my brothers did, and I didn't have anyone else to hang out with. We'd go upstairs and sit on my brother's bed and watch two or three hours of cartoons on a black and white TV. Sort of in the spirit of bootleggers, seeing as my parents really didn't want us to watch that much television, and probably wouldn't have liked the shows we did watch. But I digress.

Because I know you're all wondering, the lineup of shows went something like this: The Chipmunks, Chip n Dale Rescue Rangers, Duck Tales, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Gidget and the New LEave it to Bever (last two being guilty pleasures... we were a bit limited, since we only got five channels).

Tonight I was telling my husband which Ninja Turtle was which... and I used the best description written: Leonardo leads Donatello does machines (that's a fact, jack) Raphael is cool but crude (give me a break) Michelangelo is a party dude. I am not ashamed of the fact that, out of all of the shows I watched, TMNT was my favorite. Cheesy, yes. But, as timeless as any. It was so good, they made movies and even updated the show in 2003. I am no longer an avid fan of the heroes in a half shell, but I do hold a special place in my heart for them. If you're ever at my house, I might show you some of my second-grade fan fic written about them. Complete with illustrations. Or maybe I won't.

Anyway, after watching some clips on youtube and telling Daniel about my fond memories, I told him one of the saddest parts of my life is the fact that none of my friends share the great memories of the green adventures with me. They never mastered the ninja skills with little self-crafted nunchucks and swords. They were all busy watching Punky Brewster, My Little Pony and Strawberry Shortcake... or whoever.

There is no real point to this blog. I just want you all to know that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (although chalked full of new age beliefs and eastern religion) was my favorite, and reigns forever in my memory as the best show ever.

Joy

Joy - By Out of the Grey

Some say the face is unforgettable
I'm sure I've seen it many times
Ah, but you know me.
I forget so easily.
I thought I saw you in a Sunday crowd
but then I missed you, in a blur of colored water, full of clouds
like Deja vu, answered you...

They say some day I won't need to see you out
but for now, won't you come and wrap me up inside your presence
we can celebrate if you stay...

I know you make your home in any given light
your vision is so clear you don't see what is not
When I find you, will I catch the cure you've got?

Surely you're not in some distant land
maybe down the block
or across the street
have you always been near to me?

Yesterday I went to the basement to dig through my box of maternity clothes and see if there were any shirts that would fit me yet. I was washed with sadness as I looked through the clothes I had bought last time, some of which I never got to wear.
Grief is full of experiences like that. little things that you didn't think about right away in the emotional times. And then they pop up at unexpected times, all through the year. You deal with them, and move on and often even forget those sad thoughts.

While I stood there, holding a handful of shirts to try on, I thought about how worried I happened to be that particular day, about the baby in my womb. And how overwhelming the feeling of helplessness and anxiety is. Wondering if I'm doing something wrong that will hurt the baby, or if it's going to be OK. But, at the same time, ready for the next phase with a big belly and more anticipation.

Then Arlene poked her head down the stairs and started saying, "Hi, hi, hi hi" and I took my shirts upstairs to try on. And she watched me and said "Oooh," every time I put a different one on.
It's so confusing how often joy and sorrow weave in and out of our lives. They intertwine so easily. And yet, it's the biggest relief to me some days, when it would be easier to sit around and throw a pity party. There is joy to be found. Sometimes we just have to seek it out.

Heaven is a Real Place

God didn't give up on the idea of Eden
as some misguided have assumed
The garden has given place to a city
Where the walk of God with man will be resumed
Paradise is not lost at all!
Let my whole life reflect my belief that heaven
is where I'll spend eternity
That would be something,
something to see
Till death is swallowed up in victory

I wanna live like heaven is a real place
I wanna live like heaven is a real place
in my every day time and space
I wanna live like heaven is a real place.

Charlie Peacock "Heaven is a Real Place" from the album "The Secret of Time" 1990

That song's been running through my mind in the last week as I've thought about death and life and persevering through trials.
Last night I visited my old fellowship group, Marriage Matters. They're discussing First Peter, which I'm also studying with my small group. We talked about God's promises and making them real in our lives and remembering them on a day-to-day basis. When Chris asked how we could make the truths in 1 Peter 1:6-12 everyday reality, I thought about how much perspectives change when you consider heaven instead of earth.

There are a million promises for us to live by here on earth, but at the end of the day, I find my greatest comfort in the end of the story. When I'll walk with Jesus in the place He built for us, and ask Him answers to the questions I couldn't find on earth, and hug Him and know His reality, His true unhindered presence. Where freedom will reign, where there will be no room to doubt or question, where everyone will live in light and peace and joy and understanding.

But, like is indicated in the song, it's hard to live like heaven is a real place, when we're stuck on earth and have to deal with all of the crap of living. I suppose it'll make us appreciate it more, if we'll even be able to remember what it was like here.

Anyway, I've decided that making heaven a real place in my heart and mind is a good step toward knowing God better and living in His fullness. So, I endeavor to live out Hebrews 11:13b-16: They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead they were longing for a better country--a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

My Treasure

Today is Arlo appreciation day. I know, you didn't buy a gift. That's OK. I just wanted to tell you all how much I love my little miracle. I didn't realize when she was born just how much of a miracle she was. Of course it's always a miracle when a healthy baby is born, but it's even more one when you find out what I now know about my blood. She becomes more and more of a joy every day, and I loooooove her guts. Life is so precious. Her life is so precious.

The Anchor Holds

I like music, in case you didn't know that. Really, what I love is lyrics. Poetry is wonderful and when you can put it to just the right music, it's a perfect representation of thoughts and feelings. That's probably why, so often, there's a sort of sound track going on in my mind while i go through life. Having a pretty good memory, there are a lot of songs that stick through years and years and years. A lot of them I wish that didn't, like this morning when I couldn't the Christian parody of "I'm a believer" out of my head. That was annoying. Other ones I've grown very fond of, even though their music is outdated.
I've been thinking of songs that have encouraged me through hard times, and ones I can maybe pass on to someone who's hurting. There's a great list of ones that probably most of you will never hear (because I have a husband who likes old music), and right now, the one that's playing is "The Anchor".
Now, just so you know, I've never been a huge fan of Ray Boltz, but "Allegiance" was the first tape I ever owned, so I have some sentimental attachment to it. And The Anchor Holds is still one of the songs that plays in my sound track when I hurt. The deeper the hurt, the more meaningful it becomes. I think I might even want it played at my funeral some day. So, because I know you all care so much, here are the lyrics.


I have journeyed
Through the long, dark night
Out on the open sea
By faith alone
Sight unknown
And yet His eyes were watching me

CHORUS:
The anchor holds
Though the ship is battered
The anchor holds
Though the sails are torn
I have fallen on my knees
As I faced the raging seas
The anchor holds
In spite of the storm

I've had visions
I've had dreams
I've even held them in my hand
But I never knew
They would slip right through
Like they were only grains of sand

CHORUS

I have been young
But I am older now
And there has been beauty
That these eyes have seen
But it was in the night
Through the storms of my life
Oh, thats where God proved

Grieving in Fellowship

A couple in our church lost their baby last night. He was five months old.
It hurts so much to know a small amount of how much they hurt. Because I have no idea how heavy that burden is, but I know it's so big. My Bible study group prayed for an hour for them, and it felt like all we could do. It's hard to really know what to do or say when something so terrible happens. You don't feel like your life should be going on like normal when you know someone else's world is falling apart. And yet it has to, like a cruel irony... or a beautiful truth that "to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven".

Having grieved, and having had friends grieve with me, I think I'll list my ideas of how people can help those who are suffering. I don't know how relevant this is to some of you who read this, but probably at some point, you'll have someone who needs the comfort of friendship and family. So here are my thoughts from my own experience.

1) Send a card. It seems trite and useless, but they meant SO MUCH to me to know that people noticed and cared. Sometimes they came from completley unexpected people, and it meant a lot to read their words and the words written on the card. Don't just pick up a random "comfort" car or something. Find one witih a meaningful message. I'm planning to send a card in a couple of weeks, because that was when our stopped coming in and I wished every day that I'd get one in the mail.
2) Make a dinner.
3) Send flowers. I never understood why people gave flowers for funerals, but now I think I do. It meant a lot to just say "we care about you", but they also brightened up the house, which felt so cold and empty.
4) Pray. It's the best thing to do. SOmetimes you don't know what to say but it's OK to pray the same thing as long as you keep meaning it. The same struggles pop up over and over as you grieve, and to know people are lifting you up means a lot. Now, a little side note. I often question peoples' sincerity when they say "I'll pray for you", probably because I know how often I say that with the best intentions and then don't do it. So, if you're going to tell them you're praying for them, try to make it meaningful. If you're committed to praying every day, say so. If you've been paying specific things, tell them. Then they can cling to that when they see your prayers being answered.
5) Find a meaningful gift. It's kind of hard to know what to give, but we got a couple ofthings I really treasure. One is a willow tree angel of rememberence, and another was a basket of flowers that are perennials you can plant into a flower bed. I found a neat website that sells rememberence jewlery for people who have lost children, and there are other ideas like that.
6) Share a verse that meant something to you through a hard time, or one you've discovered and pray for them. OUr words don't always mean a lot, but God's words do not return void.
7) KEEP YOUR DANG MOUTH SHUT. Unless you have an inspired word of God, it's usually best to just not say anything because it usually comes out wrong or can be interpreted wrong. You don't want people to have to convince themselves of your good intention. A hug or an "I'm sorry" go a long way. However nice you think you're being, there's usually room for it to be misinterpreted. I won't list off things that people said to us that weren't helpful, but just think really hard if you're going to say something "comforting".

That's all I have for now. I should probably go and get ready for my day now, since me and Arlene are both still in our pajamas. :o)

Non Events

Sometimes you go into something expecting a big ordeal, and then it ends up being a non-event. A waste of time. Like yesterday. On Saturday I'd had some pain in my thigh that was annoying and hurt quite a bit. Sunday morning when I got up to pee at five, it hurt a lot. When we were getting ready for church, I started to think about the risk of blood clots and realized that people get blood clots in their legs.
So I did what every normal American does and went online to research. Sure enough, the symtoms matched a blood clot. So i called my OB and he said "yeah, if you can swing it, you should get in to an urgent care or er and have them check it out to make sure." So instead of going to church like I'd really wanted, we went to the ER and wasted two hours. It was good to go, you know, but, like most things you worry about, nothing came of it. They don't really know what was causing the pain, and it didn't go away yesterday. I suppose it's a pinched nerve or I slept on it wrong or something.
Anyway it just got me worrying about what that meant if I had ablood clot while on blood thinners, and what they could even do to fix it since blood thinners is the solution to blood clots. but it all worked out and I had no real reason to worry.
The only reason I'm writing all of this is because so many people ask for updates and how it's going and there just isn't much to say. Getting shots at night is interesting but not terribly painful. I'm tired and sick but not as bad with the last two pregnancies. And now my leg hurts. That's all I have to update you on so far.

Trusting

I've thought about writing this entry several times over the last fwe weeks, but always decided to wait. When I went in to the doctor after my stillbirth for the check up, he said "Call me as soon as you get a positive pregnancy test. we'll get you on blood thinners, and you'll have a boring pregnancy." I found out in May that I'm pregnant again. I'm ten weeks along now, and I'll be due Feburary 2 if everything goes well.

So far, it hasn't really been boring. There have been some complications that have been very difficult to deal with after what happened last time. Nothing terribly serious. I found out that, along with Factor V Leiden, I have another genetic defect called MTHFR. It's similar to the Factor V. It increases homocystene levels so your blood makes big clots. I've been taking folic acid for it and they think that's all I really need. I had a hemorrhage that's finally clearing up, so I'm starting lovonox incections today. Lovonox is an anti-coagulant (blood thinner) that's supposed to keep me from developing any clots that would harm the baby. I hope it works.

Being pregnant is always an exersize in faith. You always have to trust God and tell yourself not to worry, knowing that He's in control and He makes the decisions. BUt that's a lot easier to do when you don't have a really good reason to worry. I hadn't really had trouble with it until this pregnancy. Now I'm already fighting the worry and doubt. All the time. I don't wawnt to, because it increases my stress level, blood pressure, etc, and yet, it's really hard to counter it.

I wonder why we fear so many things that are so out of our control... I suppose it's human. And I suppose it's a way to learn to trust God. Last night when I was awake at 3:30, Hebrews 12:2 came to mind: "Let us fix our eyes on jesus, the author and profector of our faith, who, for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame and sat down at the right hand of the Father." I think it was supposed to be a message, which I neglected to take fully take to heart. I need to just keep thinking about Jesus, and stop worry about tomorrow because tomorrow will worry about itself.

Me and my Bat

Anyone who's known me for long or been to my house knows that I have a secret passion for super heroes. If you browsed my books, you would find a small collection of graphic novels on the bottom shelf of my bookcase. If you went through my toybox filled with my own toys that I didn't have to share with my siblings, you would discover a collection of plastic action figures and assessories, mostly collected in high school and college. If you shop with me, you find my eyes wandering toward the little caped pajamas that advertise someone who can fly. I like super heroes. I just do.

If you know me, you know who my favorite of them all is. It's no secret to most that I am an avid Bat-fan. It all started when I was a little kid, and they showed the cheesy Adam West Batman shows as reruns after school. What can I say? I liked the bright colors and the sweet theme song. The cool gadgets, the sweet car (which, I might add, resides in our very own Marion Iowa) and the bat ears. I liked it. I put a bat pole up in my tree house (an old garden hose tied to a branch). I spent my free time at school making things that would fit in a utility belt.

My facination with detectives and spying only added to the intrigue of Batman. I saw the movies when I was a little older. And then, a great thing happened in 1992. Warner Brothers produced a new cartoon. The Adventures of Batman. It was an awesome cartoon, and my love for it cemented my admiration of the best super hero ever.

But aside from those superficial factors, I've thought through the years what made me identify with Batman more than, say, Supergirl? Or Wonderwoman or the Flash or Superman? So now, for a glimpse into the darkness of my mind, I will explain to you why I relate with Batman and have loved him all these years. This is not a top ten list, but I thought ten was a nice round number.

1) He's an outsider. In fifth, sixth, seventh grade, I discovered that people didn't like me. In general, my peers ignored me or made fun of me. In high school, I realized that, although I had friends, I was still sort of excluded from their personal worlds, the lives they had shared together before they knew me. Batman understands that. Batman doesn't get close to anyone and when he does, he usually wishes he hadn't.

2) He's dark. He lurks in the shadows and sneaks around finding things out about people. He makes it his business to know what's going on. I've always been the kind of person who knows what's happening around me without having to be told. Batman can put pieces together quickly and know things that others haven't told him. He likes to surprise people with what he knows, and use it as a weapon against them. I like that about him. It always brings me great pleasure when someone looks at me and says, "How did you know that!?" I think it gives Batman pleasure too.

3) He's misunderstood and intensely lonely. I don't feel that way as often anymore, but I did when I was falling in love with Batman.

4) He has a dry, dry, dry sense of humor. Enough said.

5) He's freaking smart. I'm not freaking smart, but I like people who are and I always have.

6) He's great at everything I wish I were. Ninja skills, computer hacking skills...

7) He's mysterious.

8) He has a great understanding of human nature.

9) He's always one or two or three steps ahead of everyone, even his "colleagues".

10) He looks really good in spandex.

Those are just the reasons I've though of. I'm sure there are better ones, if I psychoanalysed myself. It's not that I am so much like Batman that I have to relate with him. Granted, there are more admirable super heroes. There are definately ones with more integrity and honor. I like them too. It's just that Batman stands out to me more than anyone else.

The Need

There's a lot going on here as people start to clean out their houses and throw away things they cherish. I had a taste of it when we had to squish down all of the cardboard blocks that we got as kids. We were poor, and they were a Christmas present from someone (I think). We spent all day putting them together and we played with them a lot. We used them to make houses for our little people and Barbie dolls. Now they're in the trash on the road side.

It's not that they're valuable. They're just things. And it's a small thing (there were many others that we had to make decisions to throw away), but it made a little part of me sore and sympathetic for the people just a few houses down who are throwing out photo albums, saved birthday cards and letters, treasured gifts from relatives and so much more.

Emails keep coming about who we can help and how badly they need it. And I'm stuck at home not able to help so very much with much of anything. Even if I gave all I am, it wouldn't be enough. Even if everyone I knew gave what they had, it wouldn't fix much. It's overwhelming.

The need is overwhelming. I wonder if this is a little bit how Jesus felt when he sat outside the gates of Jerusalem, crying. So many people to save, to help. So many lost and hurting hearts. And yet his ached too, knowing what human suffering was ahead for him as well. Please pray for Iowa.

Floods

Well, for those of you who aren't in this area and haven't seen the news, I've been in the midst of some major flooding this last week. Lots of folks are asking how it's going, if we flooded, etc so I thought I'd just write one update and hope that answers the questions.

A) Our house is not flooded, or anywhere near flooding
B) My parent's house was in the flood plain, but missed the waters by maybe 50 feet.
C) My parents are not in the country, so we (my sister, my husband and I) have been responsible to get it cleaned up and taken care of.
D) The last week went something as follows:

Mon-Tues: My cousins were visiting. We had a grand time.

Wed- Parents leave for trip, cousins leave, sister leaves for a day trip to Chicago. We were worried a little about the flood, but the predictions kept it pretty far away from the house. By night time, they'd put out a map of the expanded evacuation area, and my parent's house was in it. We put bags over the drain and pulled stuff off the basement floor just in case.

Thurs - Watching the flood levels very closely. The edge of the water is two or three blocks away. It's raining and storming all day. Roads are beginning to close. Including major highways and roads through town. Water shortage began in town. Rain still pouring. Daniel and a friend set up emergency communication tower for the police, who had relocated because of the flood. I attempted to get more sandbags to use at the house, but got stuck in traffic as they were shutting down so many roads due to flash floods and the real flood.
In the evening, we got a new surprise. They'd predicted a 24 ft. crest, but they changed that to 32 ft. Daniel and a group of random others went to the house and hauled up as much as they could from the basement before curfew.

Friday - Took showers at the farm to conserve water in town. Daniel went in and discovered 3 ft of water in the basement. They got to work making pumps, but there was no power so we had to have generators. I stayed at the farm with my father-in-law to wait till he had the RV's generator fixed and his pumps ready to go. What normally takes twenty minutes to drive into town took more than an hour because traffic was backed up on all of the highways and the only exit roads. It took most of the day to get the pumps going, and I didn't really do much. Some of them worked sometimes, but then my father-in-law went and got two submerging pumps and they worked really well.

Saturday - Finished pumping the water out of the basement and started using squeegees to get the rest of them.

Sunday - Took a little bit of a break, but still went and did some clean-up. Set up fans to dry things.

Monday - My wonderful husband worked for several hours, visiting different offices and officials to get the power turned back on to the house.

Tuesday - Some of my sister's friends and some random Mormons in the neighborhood bleached and cleaned a lot in the basement.

Today - Sorted through all of the things that had gotten wet. Set them on the road side or in the garage to see what the parents wanted to keep. It's mostly all done now.

Lots of people offered to help and get stuff done. Tons of folks from church put in time helping moving things, mostly my sister's friends. They did an amazing job helping out with everything. Now we'll mostly have to let my parents figure the rest out, I think. When I called the insurance guy, he said they weren't covered for ground water, but I feel like that was inconclusive. So... yeah. I guess that's about all. In town, they've moved the barricades down as they check blocks for the house safety. It was at the end of our block, but today it's seven blocks further down. People are emptying their houses, and it's a sad sight. But there is some strange hope in starting over, as well. At least I think so. Anyway, that's that update. I'll write more about other more interesting things some time soon.

Great and Precious Promises

I'm finding my creativity is stifled right now. I don't enjoy times like this. I've been editing stories for a while, and just not full of new ideas at all. The poetry is missing.
I've started a study on First Peter with my small group. I really love First Peter, mostly because it's so straight forward and full of promises and words of encouragement that are easily applied to life today.
The memory verse this week was 1 Peter 1:3 - Praise be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. In HIs great mercy, he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.
I liked the idea of living hope. Not hope like "I hope it will snow", but Hope that lives and moves in us and takes us to the throne of God, where He hears our cries and assures us with his great and precious promises--assurance that will never "perish, spoil or fade, kept in heaven for us". I find that very comforting these days.
That's all for now. Except for a note to the friend who asked me to write about witnessing in mainstream churches: I'm still thinking on it, but I'll write something eventually.

The Perfect Storm

Mother's Day
Child dedications
Grace's due date.

I'm glad yesterday is over, although Daniel did make it nice. He took me to get tea at Panera when I left the church service, and then we ate in the Amanas with my family. Then we came home and I took a nap and we had a nice relaxing evening together. I really love him.

In Your Presence

some raw thoughts. This is not an easy time for me and Daniel. It's been harder than I imagined, and in some ways even harder than the days of the stillbirth. I ache all over.
We went to the hospital to visit our friends who'd just had their baby. It's strange how joy and happiness can intertwine so easily with sorrow. How we can be happy and glad for our friends, but at the same time, still mourning. There were three babies born this week alone. And it's not the baby part that's hard. It's just that they make me realize how empty it is inside of me.
"Somewhere, between these ins and these outs, there's a fine line of purpose, I follow even now. Through the haze of despair, that confuses and hurts us, i look to see that you're there, and I run toward your light. Somewhere, beyond these reasons and feelings, somewhere beyond the passion and fatigue, I know you're there, and that your spirit is leading me, somewhere beyond all this." (Timeless Rich Mullins. "Somewhere")
I wrote some poems. It's been hard to get them out the way I like them to sound, but this is what I've come up with.

To know Him

Spring time—new life
And I’m looking for a place to hide
Somewhere dark
Where the nagging nightmares will be hard to see
Somewhere that this can all just disappear
There is no solitude, no recourse
But in the darkness a whisper
saying commune with me
know me in my death and in my suffering

Rock of ages

Rock of Ages,
Hide me here
Amidst the blossoms and newborns
in your light and truth
In your presence, finding fullness of joy
let me see further on
where the wounds have healed
and left scars to remind me
of the beauty in You and your perfect plans

In my CD Player, my Head and my Heart

This song has been going all week for me. It's comforting and challenging all at once. You can listen to it for free by clicking on play here. I like it because right now I'd rather be hiding out while the battles go on around me and in my mind. I just bought this CD, so the timing is great.

Strap My Hat On by Mitch McVicker

I'm not scared if the monster comes to drag me under
I'll stay right here no i won't turn gone
I won't wonder
I don't care about no weather front if I hear thunder
groan
it will overblow.

Every time arrows fill my fragile skies
veiled behind neon flash disguises
love will rise to my defense
so I strap my hat on
and I lift my eyes when my king goes by
I'm gonna strap my hat on.

The needle's flat but the gage it laughs
a melody in my weakness
I am pushed from stance to heights unseen
till I'm back agin where my armor friend
is cushion peace to get me through
the song rings true...

Mitch

"Quality in art, music, and literature is related tothe passion, excellence, and message it communicates; the honesty and success of the artist's attempts to reconcile the lower story of human experience (pain, doubt, fear, failure, joy, faith, love, success) with the upper story of the divine."
--My dad's facebook profile

I went to a concert with my brother tonight. It was really good. Not because it was fantastic and full of energetic fans. I think half of the audience were kids. There were a lot of kids there. thirty adults maybe. Maybe forty. Not a ton. Two guys on stage. Four guitars, one ukelalie, a couple of bass and rhythm instruments. Good folk-like pop music. Amazing message in the music.

Amazing musician. He wasn't out to impress people or make a statement or get a mass of adoring fans in his following. He wore dirty jeans that were torn, and a tee-shirt with a jacket over it. And socks. One white, one black. I don't know why. He was very unpolished. He did strange things with his recording thingy. He went ahead and sang even though he knew his guitar wasn't quite in tune. And he smiled and grinned through the concert, and afterwards when he stood around and talked with us.

His name is Mitch McVicker. The name might be familiar to some people who know Rich Mullins' music. They were good friends, roommates and musician friends. Mitch was with Rich when he died. I'm not a crazed fan of Rich Mullins, but I've always appreciated him and what he had to say. I appreciate Mitch McVicker and what he has to say too. Check him out. You'll be glad you did.

Toy Recalls

I just got a notice from one of the stores I frequent, informing me of a toy recall. It wasn't something I'd purchased, but, yet again, too much lead in the paint.

It just goes to prove, it's safer and cheaper to let your kids play with crap laying around the house than it is to buy them crap from a store.

Of course, there are always paint chips and window sills to worry about...

Hardened

I've been thinking about many things, but so rarely have time to sit down at my computer and write them all out, although I truly wish I could and would more often. Life has calmed down for me, but there are of course always new challenges. I've noticed how sensitive my soul has become since the loss of my baby.

I've always considered myself a thick-skinned person... insensitive, almost. I wanted to think I was caring, but I often had to force myself to really care about things that affected others so deeply. I remember in youth group when one of the adult leaders passed away, how... hard I felt. I thought it was a strength, so I could be a support to my friends and see a different perspective. But deep down I think I've always known that hardness isn't the most desired trait a person can possess. It often comes from painful experiences and relationships. I've never been very emotional, so it's been easy to mistake that personality trait with my hardness.

There have been some times when I've realized how callused I am. And I haven't ever known how to change it. I didn't necessarily want to be that way, but it has worked for me. It's been OK. But OK isn't always really OK. And hardness certainly isn't OK for someone who wants the love of Christ to live and move in her life. When you're hard, you don't notice softer things. You don't feel the gentle tugs for compassion and goodness that pull at your heart. You might conciously see something happening, but it doesn't affect you, even when you want it to. And that's what I've been like for so many years.

I remembered recently that before this recent trial, I prayed that God would break me. I can't remember the thought process behind it, but I remember thinking about the hardness I have, and how it was making certain parts of my life difficult. I realized that the combination of hardness and being unemotional wasn't working, that it was making me proud. So I asked God to break me.

I don't know if it was all working together or not, and I certainly don't think God let this happen for that specific reason. But, nonetheless I am finding that these experiences have torn away a layer of stone that sheltered my heart. I think it's been good. It's let me share in others' pain in a way I never used to be able to. It's allowed me to cry over small things and big things, and not feel like I need to hide. It's made me stronger, and it's given me a fellowship with God's heart that I never knew was possible. There's a newness in beauty and innocence and love now, and I think, despite what my training and instincts tell me, I want to embrace it and know softness again.

Things too Wonderful

"I know that You can do everything, and that no purpose of yours can be withheld from You. You asked, 'who is this who hides counsel without knowledge?' Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, Things too wonderful for me, which I did not know."
JOb 42:2-3

Do me a favor. When something bad happens to someone, don't tell them, in the midst of their grief or the aftermath of it "God just had something better". It puts that person in an awkward position. It doesn't make the pain go away.

I've had a lot of well-meaning people (bless their hearts) say that to me in the last week or two. It really grates against me. Because I know the whole Romans 8:28 thing that God causes all things to work together for the good of those who love Him, but at the same time, I find the "God had something better" to be incomplete theology. Because it doesn't say He works things together for the better of those who love Him. And this world is so broken that you can't guarantee better. At least not by our standards. Of course by His standards and His ultimate purpose and His sovereignty, there is always better. But right now when someone says that, I just think, "what would better be for me? Better than what? Better than my baby girl?" I mostly just nod my head when people say that. It grates against me wrong. I don't think that He let my baby die because He had something better in store (at least not for me). It doesn't comfort me. It makes me restless. It makes me want to argue with them.

I believe that He has other things, wonderful things, in store for us. And I believe that He will accomplish His good pleasure. I believe that He's good and right and just and loving. But I don't believe He intended the world to be like this, so broken and hard. I certainly don't believe
He lets bad things happen to people for the purpose of something "better". I think it hurts HIm just as much as it hurts us and probably more. But still the same, He does let bad things happen, and it's a hard thing to accept. We comfort ourselves by saying His purposes will be accomplished and all of the other Christianese jargon people say. And I know it's true if it's in the Bible. But He didn't create the world to be this way. Sin creates an absense of goodness and sin breaks and twists what God made to be good.

Still you can't help but fight through all of the questions it raises. But I've fought through them before this, when my life was at peace and I just couldn't help but wonder. And I don't have great answers but I can take comfort in believing that He does have a plan, and He does watch what's happening and is intricately involved in what goes on in my life. And he cares about the little birds that fall from the sky, and counts how many hairs are on my head. And He does have good things to accomplish and work together for and in me.

But don't say "God had something better". God has something better. God uses bad things to work together for the good of those who love Him. And I don't mind keeping my faith stocked in Someone who can promise to use whatever bad things happen for His glory, and for my good. I find Him to be my solid rock and all other ground to be shifting sand. Even if I never see "better", I know He is accomplishing even things too wonderful for me to understand. And I am privileged to get a glimpse of any of them.

[editor's note: I write this today, after struggling through two really hard days this week. I don't want people to think I'm really strong and things aren't bothering me. I'm holding together but it's because of God's grace and your prayers, not because of me. I really need your prayers right now.]

All the Way

All the way my savior leads me
and he cheers each winding path I tread
gives me strength for every trial
and feeds me with the living bread
though my weary steps may falter
and my soul a-thirst may be
gushing from a rock before me
Lo! a spring of joy I see

~ Fanny Crosby "All the Way my Savior Leads me"

That isn't just a song today. It's a description of exactly how I feel, and exactly what God does. I guess Fanny wrote this after she'd been struggling financially, and a man on the street came and offered her $5, the exact amount she needed. I think 2nd Peter 1:3 applies nicely.
His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness according to our knowledge of Him who called us according to his own goodness and grace.

Factor V Leiden

My doctor called yesterday with some news. First he asked how I was doing and some other things, and then he explained that he hadn't called earlier because there hadn't been any substantial results from any of the tests. The autopsy was normal. The blood cultures on the placenta were normal. Basically everything had come back negative except for one thing. He said that it's a fairly common problem and one major side effect are miscarriages and stillbirths. It's called Factor V (five) Leiden, and it causes the blood to clot easily. Basically it means that when the blood cells replicate, one of them mutates (some people have both mutate, but in my case it's only one). It's a genetic trait that gets passed on from one parent.

There are still some more tests that haven't come back yet, so this isn't the final word, but the doctor was guessing that I got a blood clot in the placenta or umbilical cord. There could be something else also, and I guess you never really know for sure. What it means for me is that if I get pregnant again, I'll have to be on blood thinners during my pregnancy. That's about all that I know right now and I guess that's all I have to say also. Except thanks to all of the people who have sent cards and brought meals. it has made our lives much easier and we have felt so cared for.

The Dark Night of the Soul

Sometimes my life just don't make sense at all
when the mountains look so big
but my faith just seems so small
so hold me Jesus
cuz I'm shaking like a leaf
you have been King of my glory
won't you be my Prince of Peace?

-"hold me Jesus" Rich Mullins

It's been a week and two days since everything happened. Physically, I feel a lot better. My back hurts a lot, but otherwise I'm mostly OK (with the help of ibuprofen). We have been so blessed by all of the emails and cards and meals we've gotten. Some people wait their whole lives looking for friends that will be there like so many of you have. I can't say thank you enough or in the right way to express how thankful I am. I do hope that you'll continue praying, because things aren't really getting easier yet. A lot of people have said they get worse before they get better. I hope that isn't true.

People ask how we're doing, and I don't know how to answer because so many things are fine. I don't really know how to explain what it feels like. You kind of live on two levels. There's the normal everyday life that continues to roll around you and take you with it, but then there's the pain that lingers under the surface and struggles to keep you remembering, even when you'd rather not. And most of the day things just go on as normal, but then it gets quiet and you're all alone for a few minutes, and there's nothing to distract you so you start thinking about it, replaying it all in your mind, asking the same questions over and over, and wishing that it some how didn't hurt so much. And when the two levels meet each other, you end up crying because you bit your tongue or dropped your bagel in the dirt.

Last night we went on a date, and Daniel told me he felt feelings for me that he hadn't in a long time. I told him when we went to bed that i felt like I'd fallen in love with him all over again. He's soooo wonderful.

I had some time to myself on Tuesday to finally write in my journal and sort things out a little. It was really nice to sit there in the coffee house and think. I'm an introvert, and with all of the support we've been having from others, I haven't processed some things. That gave me a good chance to do it. I'll share a few of the thoughts I had, and then I'll stop writing because this is already pretty long.

I've heard about the dark night of the soul, where your doubts and circumstances cause so much duress that your faith comes up against a wall. I have been there before a couple of times, sitting alone in my room and wondering why I believe in God, if it's all true or if it's just the most logical of religions and in the end they're all lies. Asking questions that don't have good clear answers, and doubting that I'd believe the answers even if I knew. It's a scary place to be in when what you've based your life on suddenly feels unreal and untrue.

I've been waiting for that to happen since this all came out, but so far it hasn't. The opposite has, and I believe that's due to your prayers and the goodness of God. I've seen His hand with every step. I feel held and carried by Him. There have been so many little things that I can attribute to Him. And the fact that I can give Him credit for them makes me glad. Because I know my personality and how my mind works, and how the shadows creep in when I let my guard down. Not that doubting is wrong. But we're blessed when we can not see and still believe. And I guess that's what's been happening, because I do feel blessed and so taken care of. Despite it all.

I still lie awake at night and try to comfort myself, but the comfort that comes is outside of myself. It's the peace that passes understanding, and it's guarding my heart and mind.

... And the things you never thought you'd have to deal with.

This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.
"Held" by Natalie Grant

I don't really know how to write this. I'd like to be poetic and profound, but I don't want to exert the energy doing that so I guess I'll just be raw.

On Monday morning I called the doctor because I'd missed my appointment on Friday. I hadn't felt the baby move in a few days, and I was starting to get worried. They called back and had me come in to have an ultrasound (which I'd needed anyway). Everything went like normal, except the technician didn't stop to take any pictures. Then she said, "I'm not finding a heartbeat here either. I'm going to have the doctor take a look." A few minutes later, they escorted me to one of the patient's rooms and I called Daniel to come down.
I'd prayed for peace that morning. I'd been so worried that something was wrong, but in pregnancy, most of your worries end up being nothing, and we all know it doesn't help to worry. So in the shower that morning, I stopped myself from all of the crying (hormones) and prayed that God would give me peace. Then I corrected myself and prayed that God would BE my Peace. And He was. And He has been through everything that's happened, so I'm thankful that He answered that first prayer of mine and gave me that assurance that He is here.
So anyway, the doctor came in when Daniel got there and explained some things. It was a still born baby. There were some deformations, but they didn't really know what had happened yet. We needed to have labor induced, so we decided to do it right away. My mom had Arlene and was planning to watch her as long as she needed to, so we went down to the hospital and got started.
My mother-in-law stopped in later that day. Pat from church did too, to do all of the official pastoral care. It was nice, but we requested no other visitors because we didn't know what state things would be in.
It took seventeen hours of labor before I delivered, but the delivery was pretty fast. I didn't get my epidural in time. I started needing to push before he'd gotten the doses in, so it didn't really take effect until after the baby was born. But it went pretty well, all things considered.
It was a girl. We named her Grace. Since she was more than 20 weeks the state considers her a person, so we had the option of sitting with her or whatever, but we opted not to see her. It's hard to explain all of the reasons and thoughts behind our decisions, but thankfully we just agreed on everything without having to really discuss it with each other.
I couldn't eat until after I'd delivered the placenta and they'd done an ultrasound to make sure there were no remnants, so that took another four hours. Then we ate a big meal and took care of some logistics at the hospital and we came home.
It was zero degrees with 45mph gusts of wind when we came home. We got inside and found three bouquets of flowers and a lot of food. Someone had picked up the house and done dishes too. (Thanks family).
we're doing pretty well. Lots of people have offered to bring meals and help however they can, and I am so grateful. I don't really know what the next few weeks are going to be like. So far it feels like typical grief. I will probably want some company during the day and maybe people to watch Arlene or help me with some house work. I'm not supposed to do anything strenuous for a few weeks.
I don't know what else to say, I guess. Thanks to everyone who's been helping make this easier on us. I know it's hard to know what to say or do. Just know you don't actually have to say or do anything. Prayers have been helping a lot. I know. Knowing that people care about us has made me so thankful for the family of God, and for our families here.
I think that's all for now. If you'd like to help with something, I'd prefer the e-mail contact method over phone, because I'm having a hard time making decisions right now. Thanks to everyone for caring so much. I never thought I'd be in this position.
But my life has been so easy, in some ways, I've been waiting for the bomb to drop. It hasn't been as terrible as I thought it would be, but it has been terrible.

Winter Blues... Thankful list

Last night I was wishing that I were a missionary just so I could send out update letters with things I'm thankful about. But since I'm not a missionary and won't be for a long time if ever, I guess I'll just have to use my blog.
I've been feeling sort of depressed lately, and you're supposed to start being thankful when you're feeling sorry for yourself, so I am going to make a short list of things I'm thankful for. It's probably really boring, so you don't have to read it. But I want to write it. :o)

My french horn which I got as a Christmas present
writer's group
Arlene and all of her cute smiles and hugs
Daniel, the love of my life who becomes more wonderful with every passing day (and I'm not just saying that because I'm a romantic. Because I'm not).
Valentines
my laptop
My small group and the book we're reading about faith
e-mail because otherwise I wouldn't have any friends
my cousins who are all actually pretty cool
panara, brewed awakenings and Breugers
that my brother and sister are in town right now

Christmastime

So, since it's a week before Christmas, I've been doing what I can to get into "the spirit" of things. I have a few other things weighing on my mind, so it hasn't been easy (and I don't suppose it ever is).
We watched part of The Nativity Story in our adult Bible fellowship yesterday. I've kind of wanted to watch it, but it totally surpassed any of my expectations. Granted, I was sort of expecting it to be another mediocre Christian attempt, and some kind of fad that people felt the need to support and like. But watching it pushed my cynicism aside. I liked it. a lot. So... yeah. It got me to thinking about a lot of things. I've always been kind of fascinated with the Magi (wise men) and the missing pieces in the story about why they came to see Jesus and their journey. I don't suppose we'll ever have all of the story while we're here on earth, but it's interesting to think about. Wouldn't it be cool if they're in heaven, because they understood that Jesus was the--Their-- Savior? I think that their mysticism might have made it easier for them to believe that Jesus was God. But we'll never really know.
I have this awesome D.H. Lawrence poem about them, but I've already posted that in some blog a couple of years ago. This time I wanted to post the lyrics to a song by Todd Agnew on "Do you See what I See?", which by the way, is an incredible Christmas album that explores the viewpoints of different people involved in the Christmas story. It's worth the buying if you like thinking differently. There are a couple of songs I really love. This one's pretty good, but there are even better ones.
So...

God With Us

We saw a star and followed it from the east
We've come so far to get here
We held one hope that we might find a King
But how could we know that He would be

God with us
Immanuel, come to us
The King of Israel abides with us
In this little boy, who would know we'd find
The Eternal One born into time
This baby child is God with us

We brought Him gold and frankincense and myrrh
When riches untold He left behind
We brought our best to celebrate a King
Who'd left His throne so He could be

God with us
Immanuel, come to us
THe King of Israel abides with us
In this little boy, who could know we'd fine
Mortal and mystery somehow intertwined
The baby child is God with us

It's a Gift... and a Curse

If you've ever watched USA's show "Monk" you've heard the main detective repeat a phrase, when referring to his wonderful photographic memory and/or ability to remember strange details that seemingly have nothing to do with anything. Someone inevitably says, "Wow, that's amazing! How do you do that?" And he replies, "It's a gift... and a curse."

I've been saying that phrase a lot lately, because I have, by comparative standards, a pretty darn good memory. And I remember random things that I shouldn't, like what clothes someone was wearing the time I met their fiancee's brother's girlfriend. And because I can remember random things like that, I guess it goes without saying that I also remember important things. Sometimes I can repeat a conversation verbatim. And I'm not saying all of this to brag, but actually to complain, because more often than not, I'm frustrated with my memory. It's great when I can remember when something happened or who said what or some important story that someone told me. It really is a gift that we can remember great times with people, and for me it's even better that I can remember so many details from those experiences. But what's frustrating is when I'm the only person who remembers it. I find myself getting extremely bored in conversations with some people, because they repeat themselves. A lot. They tell the same stories every time I'm with them, and I remember them. Every stinking detail. In fact, I correct people in their own stories sometimes because apparently I remembered the details better than they did. It's overly frustrating for me when I talk to someone and they ask me questions that they asked in the last conversation, as if they never asked them. Grrr.

That is why it's a curse. It's also a curse because it makes it a lot harder to forget painful things. I guess a lot of people don't remember everything that happens to them, or everything a person says. The sad thing for me is when someone hurts me, they hardly ever remember the experience if I bring it up. And then I wonder if I should have brought it up at all. I suppose most people remember getting hurt.

It bruises your soul and those bruises stay around for a while. But what does that mean for someone who doesn't easily forget? We talked about this in my adult bible community on Sunday. Our teacher was talking about demonstrating the love that's poetically examined in First Corinthians 13. Love is patient, love is kind... love does not keep a record of wrong... She said that that means you have to decide you're going to forget. You can't just decide to do that if pain is still tearing at you, so first you have to deal with it. And then you decide to forget. Maybe you can't forget forget, but you can choose not to dwell on your hurts. She said that remembering it is a way of controlling your situation and holding the pain against a person.

And I do that. It's not always because I want to. Most of the time, I'd much rather just forget all of those hurtful experiences and move on in a relationship. But when I can remember, I feel justified in whatever feelings I have toward them. And I feel like I'm doing an act of mercy by remaining their friend or choosing to love them. but that isn't how God's love works, I guess.
i wish things like this were easier to figure out.

Obligations

Sometimes I wonder what things people say because they think they’re supposed to, when really they don’t even know what they’re talking about.

Around this part of the country, it seems that a lot of people (mainly old folks) talk about the weather like it’s a serious subject. And, when it rains, inevitably someone says, “Boy it’s good it’s raining. We really needed it.” It doest seem to matter if it’s been raining cats and dogs for the last seventeen days, we sure needed this rain. It doesn’t matter if the crops are drowning because the ground is saturated. We needed that rain.

I wonder if the people who say that are in frequent contact with farmers who know how much rain we should be getting, or if it’s just something they say because they think it sounds right.

Or like when someone says, “how precious. What a good little girl” when I’m at the store with my baby. How do they know if she’s good or not? Maybe she spent the last fifteen minutes in the car screaming and now she happens to be happy because I opened a box of cookies and gave her one (sometimes that is the case, although she really is a pretty good baby).

Or recently I ran into a lady from church out in public at a restaurant. We were chatting (and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have given me the time o’day if I hadn’t been with a friend whom she knew) about church things, and she asked me if I still coordinate child care for the Bible studies. I was surprised she remembered, andsaid I do. Then she says, “Boy that’s such a blessing to us.” And she said it to a couple of other people too. But she’s in her late fifties probably and all of her kids certainly aren’t needing child care (because they’re older than I am). It’s just kind of funny because I wondered if she’d personally been blessed by what I was doing or if she was just saying it because it sounded like the right thing to say.

Even if it’s true, I don’t think that it was a personal experience for her. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not really picking on this particular woman. It was nice of her to remember what I do. But the whole standard of saying things that sound right just because they sound right just bothers me lately. Sometimes, I think, you end up sounding a lot more intelligent and polite if you just keep your mouth shut when you don’t know something.

Rich

"[Ten] years ago today somebody left. Sort of ducked
out the back while we were all busy singing." -tony

I feel like I can call him by his first name even though I never met him and hardly knew him before he passed away. If I were a celebrity, I think I'd want people to still call me Kristin.

Today is the 10th anniversary of the death of Rich Mullins. If you don't know who he is, you're missing out. Look him up. He was a musician. And more than a musician. Probably foremost, he was a writer. He was a teacher, an evangelist, and a follower of God who did radical things and made statements that upset a lot of people.

At least they upset them before he died. Now a lot of folks like to quote him and glorify his words and put him on a pedestal. I don't know if it's only because he died, or if it's because he needed to die in order for people to take the time to look into what he said. There's something so intriguing about dead musicians.

There's something really intriguing about Rich. Because he was so different than everyone you meet. most people like him don't get put in the spotlight. They live their lives in obedience and faithfulness, doing what God called them to do. He just had so much to say about getting close to God and serving and loving. He wasn't always right, and he certainly wasn't PC. But the more I read and listen to him, the more I wonder if I'm serving God like I should be.

BUt sometimes I'm scared of what God calls me to do. I've been studying the book of Luke, and noticing the theme of how Jesus took time to notice the weak, lonely and broken people. It seems that He had a speical place for them. And I feel that the Church has neglected a responsibility to be ministering to the poor and broken. Rich Mullins talked a lot about that. I think I need to do something more. Not sure what, but I'm going to be thinking on it a lot more often.

Anyway, back to Rich. If you aren't tired of reading yet. I want to share everything he did and said with you, but I guess there is no time. And you might not appreciate it like I do. But if you do, there's a link to his articles on the right side of my blog, and 20 the Countdown magazine did a nice tribute to him last weekend, which you can find by scrolling to the bottom of this page.

Some days when I see his words matching exactly what I feel, I really miss him. I can't wait till heaven to see people I respect and admire made whole by God.

So when my body lies in the ruins
of the lies that nearly ruined me
will you pick up the pieces that were pure and true
and breathe your life into them
and set me free
and when you start this world over again from scratch
will you make me new out of the stuff that lasts
and can I be with you?
Can I be with you?
(Rich Mullins/Be with You)

500 Miles

I was in Chicago yesterday to meet up with some internet friends. The only internet friends I have anymore, I guess.
It was good. The conversation wasn't especially deep. We walked to Starbucks so I could get quarters for my parking meter. We ate chicago-style pizza in a booth by Larry Bird's basketball jersey. We talked about college pranks and women in ministry and high school relationships. Reminisced a little.
I wish I were better at talking and being deep. I feel like I'm a really boring person sometimes. I've started to notice that people get tired in my presence.
Anyway. I had a good time, even if my friends didn't. I enjoy them in real life just as much as I do on the internet. And Besides, everyone needs a big bear hug once in a while. Or two.
Some things are worth driving 500 miles for.

It's Loneliness I Need

I wrote this whoel entry in my head last night, but I'm sure I won't remember it as eloquently as I had it yesterday.
I'm up visiting my relatives in Montana this week. We're having a pretty good time. It's a lot different now that I'm married and grown up and the other cousins who are my age aren't around. We still see each other once ina while, but now there are only two cousins living here with my aunt and uncle and grandparents. They're in high school, and being around them reminds me of those days when my perspective was so... different.

"...friendship is not a remedy for loneliness. Loneliness is a part of our experience and if we are looking for relief from loneliness in friendship, we are only going to frustrate the friendship. Friendship, camaraderie, intimacy, all those things and loneliness live together in the same experience." ~Rich Mullins

Recently my friend Amy came over to visit, and some how we got on the topic of youth group and high school, and I told her about how my class in youth group was really cool and was this great group of leaders, but I was never "one of them". We got along. There was a mutual respect and even some rapport from all of the trips we went on together and all of the activities. We all knew each other pretty well.
But they were all friends who shared their lives with each other. Some how, amidst the events I helped plan, leading worship, teaching, and being present at almost every event, I was an outsider. I never felt included. And, even looking back, I'm fairly certain it wasn't just my imagination or me feeling sorry for myself.
It didn't usually bother me, but when they were planning things without including me, or when I showed up at a "friend's" house to give her a birthday card and found that she was having a sleepover, or when they all went to a school dance together and didn't even ask me if I wanted to go, I'd get so frustrated and hurt.
After a particularly hurtful experience, I went home and poured everything out in an e-mail to my mentor friend Brian. We'd talked about it before in different scenarios, and he'd always say he knew what it was like to be accepted but not included. But he would also talk about how loneliness actually stemmed from our relationship with God, or the lack thereof, and how if we weren't walking closely with Him, we'd feel lonely even if we were surrounded by people who loved us.
I think I've seen that pattern to be true. And I've noticed that I can always find a reason to feel alienated and seperate. I think that most of us do that, and i wonder if maybe it's just a way of embodying the emptiness we feel when we aren't close to God. Sure I know Him and trust Him, but walking with Him is something else. Daily getting to know Him better is hard and it's concious, and when I'm not reminding myself to do it, I can find it easy to drift.
And as I drift, I become less content with relationships and more worried about what people think of me and whether or not I'm included.
Maybe this is only something that's true to me. But I do know, no matter where I'm at, that God always understands me and knows me, and wants to include me in His plans and purposes. And when I'm remembering that, it's a lot easier to be less worried about other peoples' parties and lives. And sometimes, it's loneliness that I need to remind me how empty I am without Him.

Posting

I feel like writing a long post about all of the things that have been on my mind lately... but that's what a journal's for, I suppose. I have been thinking about societal expectations and the Church, and being too comfortable. Today I read in Luke chapter 7 the account of the sinful woman anointing Jesus' feet. When Jesus says, "Therefore, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. but to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little", I felt like it was talking about me. The one who loves little. Not that I'm not sinful, and not that I'm not in constant need of God's grace and forgiveness... but I don't think I've experienced it like some have. And I don't know that I ever will experience it in some way. Because I don't really know what it's like to be without God. Certainly there are times when I feel like He isn't listening and isn't there, but I always know He is.
And lately I feel like I love little. I suppose there are ways to change that. And I don't think that those who grow up knowing Christ can't experience the same depth of love that someone who got saved from sex, drugs and alcohol does. But I wonder how I can get from loving little to knowing that intense love and experiencing... more.

The Jesus Box

I don't want to be a cynic
but I've been thinking lately.
Been reading the Gospel of Luke and the stories of Jesus
And I'm starting to wonder:
if I had never met a preacher and never gone to bible school
If I'd never been to church
and been exposed to theology
and doctrine of wise men and scholars
If I'd never watched the Jesus film or seen Him on TV
what kind of Jesus would he be?

Institutions or what?

I went back to a website I used to frequent written by a Christian musician (I stopped frequenting it because I was continually annoyed by what he said). Remembered why I don't go there so often.

Also I came to a conclusion about something that has bothered me for a long time. Something I always want to participate in discussions and arguments over, but can't ever think of the best way to say it. It's the whole stupid Acts 2 argument. That churches aren't doing it right. That we don't have real community and the solution is to stop going to institutionalized church and form your little community in a home church, so that you can really know everyone you worship with.

I suppose there's some validity to that conclusion. It especially works in areas where there is no solid church to attend. But I think that we deprive ourselves of significant growth opportunities by choosing to seclude ourselves because of our disillusionment with stereotypical churches.

And I don't think it has to be one way or the other. I think it should be BOTH. And I know that this isn't brain surgery and lots of people have said it, but I've leaned more toward the traditional church practice and away from "home churches" or "small groups" or "upper room" environments.

Both have something to offer, though. And both should be part of our daily lives. Because the people in Acts devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching AND to the breaking of bread. And they met in the temple courts AND they broke bread in their homes and ate together. (Acts 2:42-47). Most importantly, the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.

And that's key, I think. The adding to their numbers. Not for the sake of numbers, but for the sake of GOd and His Name. I really don't think anyone should run away, neglecting the large bodies of churches without a better reason than "there's no community". Because ministry teams, Bible studies, small groups and whatever can and should exist within a church. But they alone cannot offer the same things that an established church with well-equipped staff. (I don't have time to elaborate on that idea, but I'm not just spouting off opinions there. I mean, it is an opinion, but I have some foundations for it as well.)

But maybe I'm just talking.

Technology, friend or foe?

I apologize for the cliche title.

My Space, xanga, Facebook, Blogger, Juno, Gmail, lycosmail. I have an account with each of these. And I still can't figure out how to manage most of them. My junk mail lycos account finally probably shut down. I only made it so my academic decathlon coach wouldn't know my real address, and then I kept using it for internet things that ask for your address.
I have no idea how to use facebook or myspace really. And I have no desire to learn. I do what I can when I have time, but I honestly don't care about them. It's just that all of my cousins have myspace accounts, as well as a couple of friends from high school.
And I actually kind of like xanga better than other things, even though it's behind. Even though it was kind of the first thing. I always seem to jump on board right away, and then everyone else goes in new directions just when I'm starting to like where I'm at.
I remember my first e-mail account. It was with AOL before 4 million people had aol accounts. Me and my high school friends would e-mail each other because we all ahd e-mail. But most people didn't until the next year.
I like being able to stay in touch with friends who move away. But I feel like all of these things leave me lacking. I can read what other people think, but in order to give a really good response, I feel like I'd need to be sitting across from them at a coffee house face-to-face. I can read stuff that my kids write online and be deeply offended and bothered by them, but they feel invincible online and if you call them out on it, they like to pretend like it's not the real world.
And I wonder if it is.
Not to hack to death an old subject, but I'm starting to feel like these online communities are worse for us than they are good. As an "adult", I've really appreciated how I can use them to stay in contact. But some of the people I knew in high school would probably rather not be found by me. And I wish I hadn't found some of them, too. Because then I could go on thinking that they just lost touch, not that they stopped wanting to be in touch (which is the case in some of my relationships, but not all).
BUt seriously. I really wonder if high schoolers have too much of their lives invested in these things. If maybe there wouldn't be as many misunderstandings and fights if they didn't exist. Or if they were used in proportion.

And another problem I have is that I really don't have time for even one blog, let alone two or three and all of the comments and ebullitions that go along with them. And uploading pictures and whatever. I just get tired of it, but I feel chained to them because if I stop using them, I'll lose contact with my friends. I don't feel like it should be that way. I feel like my friends should be willing to stay in contact without internet technology (email excluded). Phones still exsist. So do phone books. And I live in the same city I have all my life, so I don't know why it's so hard for people to find me. Blah. I'd better stop because I'm getting grumpy. ANd so is my baby.