New Life

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

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

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

A Tale of Two Friendships

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

The "I'm Busy" post

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

Facebook Sucks

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

How to phase out your facebook addiction:

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

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

The Sisterhood of Mommy Pants.

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

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

Deferred Pain

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

Middle School

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

Wasting Time

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

My Valentine

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

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

Where do we go from here

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

Face Lift

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

The Marriage of Joy and Sorrow

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Spring Is Coming Reprise

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

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

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

Repeat Chorus

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

Bad Birthdays

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

Winter!

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

I Blame it on National Geographic

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

Mayo

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

My Dad's Heart

Thoughts after seeing my dad fresh from open heart surgery

My Dad’s Heart

He laid alone on the sterile table

Those strong hands that carried me

And tucked me into bed at night

That folded in prayer

And fixed the broken things

now filled with tubes

weakened and tired

His ruddy face yellow and pale

The smile faded into a quiet stare

Those twinkling eyes barely able to open.

They said they fixed his heart

But what they don’t know

Is that heart never needed a thing

Because in all my life

No man has had a better heart

One that holds the Lord in high esteem

And cares about those things so many overlook

That holds more passion in these latter years

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

A heart which beats in its steady way

Leading those around him

Full of life.

And in these days that follow

The surgeon’s knife

It will repair and grow stronger

Never the same

Except for the soul that beats behind

The flesh and bones of mortal energy

Which does not fade or change

As the years go by.

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.'

2011 Bests

I just haven't had a lot of time this year over Christmas break to do things I wanted. (Aside from shopping and I usually hate shopping). I don't have a lot of time right now, but I will attempt to reflect on 2011 briefly, while the kids are napping before we take off for our New Year's party at a friend's house.

What a dumb number 2011 is. Seriously. I've never liked it. It's hard to say and boring to write, and I just don't like it. 2012 will be much more fun.
This year was long, and actually, just like the number itself, it was pretty boring. I did not write a newsletter because I don't think people care to hear about the boringness of the stay-at-home mom life. Thus, I wll not do it here either. If you realy care, I could probably tell you. But, let's move on to more interesting things.

We did travel every other weekend this summer. In May we went on a long vacation driving across the gulf, because I've never been there. Daniel was sick for part of it with food poisining, and we ended up being awake with puking kids for half of the nights. Other than that, it was really fun. We visited relatives in Texas, which was great. I've never spent a lot of time in Texas, but I enjoyed the 90 degree days when Iowa had only been up to 45 at that point.
In June we went to a wedding. In July we went to Montana (amazing, as always). In August my sister got married in Nashville, and in October my brother got married here in town.

I didn't make a lot of time for reading this year, because I found it more interesting and engaging to work on my own writing projects. But I did read a little. Also, I was recently lamenting the fact that we just can't make it out to the movies as often because it involves a babysitter now. But I saw some movies. So, I know you're all dying to know. Here is my list of bests from the year:

Movie Captain America by far. I love that he was a true hero and was willing to sacrifice his life for the good of others. I liked the story line and how it all fit together and didn't leave us with unanswered questions. Mostly I just liked the action and the time period.
Book Excluding comics, I think the best book I read was The Peacemakers by Jack Cavenaugh. That is mostly because I haven't read very many this year, and this made a good story. It's part of a series about a family, book one being about the Pilgrims, and every successive book follows the next generation with a military story. This one took place during the Vietnam war, and told about the son who was fighting over there, and the daughter, who joined the anti-war movement at her California college. I really enjoyed it.
Second place is The Last Song by Nicolas Sparks. And I'm almost ashamed to admit it... I don't usually read best sellers because I have this thing about drones and masses, but I needed something light to read over the summer and I was curious what made everyone like Sparksey so much. It's maybe a little trite story about a teenage summer romance, but I'm sort of a sucker for that kind of thing. I still haven't watched the movie. And I'm probably more of a Nicolas Sparks fan than I would EVER publicly share. So don't tell my secret, OK?

CD Steven Curtis Chapman wins again! We picked up Re:Creation a few months ago, an unplugged album with some of his hits and several new songs. LOVED it. It's sort of like a sequel to the last album, with a hopeful tone and cheerful music to match. I especially like the "Morning Has Broken" rendition he did with his sons.

TV Show Once again, this is not the most current information. We watched Human Target this year, and stupid Fox has cancelled it, so it will just be a two-season slamer. It's about an assassin turned bodyguard who picks up different clients and stays sort of under the radar with his work.
We also started watching The Middle which I think is a really funny show, probably because I relate with the middle-class, midwest family life and how it sort of satirize it by making her and her kids a little more weird and over the top than average. And number 3 is a Canadian show called Hiccups which is about a children's book author who has anger management problems, and her life coach. She is his only client, and he's actually pretty lame at his job. BUt that's what makes it funny. It's a little dry, but I enjoy that kind of humor.It's made by Brent Butt, who wrote Corner gas, another Canadian sit-com. Why do I like Canadian TV? Pathetic.

Bible Verse It's sort of hard to narrow it down to one verse. My small group went through a book on Acts earlier this year. Right as we started it, the pastor at church started a series that just finished. Then, half way through the year, my Bible study group began their intense look at the book. I guess maybe God wanted me to learn something from the book of Acts. And it's been amazing to see it in a new light. Acts 8:27-40 tells a story about Philip and this Ehtiopian Eunich. Philip is seeing amazing things happen in Jeruseleam with his friends, and all of a sudden God says "Go take this desert road away from here". So he does, and leaves all of the action where it is and walks into the middle of nothing. But there's a man in a chariot reading the scriptures, and when Philip sees what he's reading, he asks him, "Do you know what this means?" And the eunich says "how am I supposed to know this if there's no one to explain it?" So Philip rides with him and tells him all about Jesus.
I like the account, because it reminds me that 1) God doesn't always want us in the middle of action where great things are happening 2) Sometimes the place God wants me to be is in the middle of the desert with one single person, walking with them and showing them what God's word means 3) God cares about individuals, enough to send a single man out of his way to share with one single man.



I could write more, but I think I need to go and be productive. we have to wrap presents for the other side of the family today because tomorrow will be "Christmas" with the whole clan! Happy New Year. I hope your year is full of good things, of godly influiences, and glimpses of Him and His glory!

k