bruised

my faith is bruised.


and right now is a time when I need it more than ever.

thrifting//the books

Our new hometown has an abundance of thrift stores, So of course that's where I went monday night on my 'i-have-to-get-out-of-the-house-without-kids-or-i-may-go-crazy night'. And what did I end up buying?

Things for the kids. Of course.

Out of sight (once in awhile) = therapeutic

Out of mind = impossible

We've started reading chapter books to the kids at night - for some continuity in routine and to help develop memory skills and blah blah blah. And they love it. The only catch is that the chapters need to be short and the narrative not too complex, which narrows the field considerably - at least for the two of us who are chomping at the bit to start Narnia and The Hobbit and on and on and on like that we go. Thanks to this lovely little list though we found some direction. 

And now thanks to a little thrifting we have a good start. Plus a few extra. 

Someday little fingers will be turning these pages on their own. And that is a wonderful little thought to hold onto.

10 good things

dear past self,

I am writing to you from the future. Don't be alarmed. Things turn out well for you. There is a husband and some lovely kiddos to keep you company. You own a car and some real estate. You have like-hearted friends. Rest assured, it is a perfectly happy little life.


I write to you for one reason, and one reason only. Read more. Read every chance you get. All that quiet time you have to yourself? Read.


And if you have anytime left over, sew... or go to thrift stores. Neither will be disappointing.


Trust me.


Sincerely,
your future self

happy is a metal bowl to play with

a frosty morning

this morning, the frost looked like tiny little leaves resting on our balcony. spring didn't look so appealing with these little beauties perched everywhere. 

feeling better

on the table. feeling better. thankful.

concussed

it happened fast. but it plays over in my head in slow motion. over and over and over.


the look in his eyes as he fell. the crack of his head on the concrete floor. the tears. the panicked screams. nothing I could do. over and over and over.


It is a scary thing; the idea that we have no idea what is going on in our bodies. To know that we could be bleeding, or growing abnormal cells, or harboring infection... and on and on it goes. The unknown. Inside of us. Or worse, inside our children. 


I took him to the doctor minutes after the fall. Who knew there was a clinic in the Superstore? Now we do. And are so grateful for that wonderful oddity. That doctor said he was ok. But it took awhile for the symptoms to come on and then we watched the boy in pain and too weak to stand, vomit throughout the course of the day. Over and over and over. 


And we knew he wasn't ok. 


So we lived out our worst fears and bundled up our boy for his first trip to the ER. And we waited and waited and waited. Me at home with the little one and Rob there in the hospital with the doctors. 


For hours. Long into the night we waited. We prayed. Everyone we love prayed. People we don't know prayed. Ephram prayed. 


And then he improved. 
The vomiting stopped. 
The bump went away.
The aching subsided. 
They sent him home without the need for a scan. A scan that is dangerous for little bodies like his, but that is necessary when blood is present on the brain, like they thought may be. 


And it was a miracle. One our faith needed. One his faith needed. 


Now in the wake of this answered prayer we are different. And probably will be permanently. 


And that may have been the point all along.