Home.
Here.
There.
Now.
Then.
I don't know anymore.
But like it or not,
June is coming.
And when it comes,
we go...
...home.
Home?
**my favorite paintings, my favorite neighbourhood. see more**
Showing posts with label bouncing around in there. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bouncing around in there. Show all posts
07 January 2012
17 October 2011
1
Tomorrow is the big day.
Me and her, we made it.
We've been reflecting a lot this month on what we went through to get her. The difficult pregnancy. The easy birth. The really sweet first months.
God's goodness and sovereignty at work.
So easy to grasp on this side of the ordeal. But true nonetheless throughout it all. Just as real in the lows as in the highs. No where near as easy to accept then as it is now.
But real.
And now here we are.
The bird turns 1.
No more babies in the house.
No more babies ever in the house.
It hits me like a brick tonight.
The eve of 1.
No more babies.
Ever.
Regardless of how sure I am that three is enough. Regardless of how confident I am that we cannot handle another pregnancy like the ones I have. Regardless of how great life is now even.
While we sleep tonight, it changes.
People told me to soak it in. To enjoy all the little moments with her. To relish her baby self.
And I tried. And I even think I did a good job of that with her.
But tonight it doesn't feel like I remember enough.
It doesn't feel like I took in enough of her baby smell. Or kissed her teeny fingers and toes as many times as I should have. Or just sat with her and cuddled as often as she deserved.
The mix of pure joy and utter sadness that is unlike anything else in life.
To be a parent.
To be given something so lovely just to be asked to give it away.
I know that for some, the giving away comes much more suddenly and tragically than what I am talking about experiencing tonight.
And to be sure, I don't mean to trivialize their loss or the changes they are facing. In fact, I honor them. I can't wrap my mind around what that must be like.
I pray that the passing of years and the gradual loss of my kids to their adulthood is all that is ever asked of me, because tonight, staring in the face of 1, it feels like more than enough to have to handle.
Those baby days are gone, but she is not.
And I know how blessed that makes me.
Tomorrow means a new chance to love her.
To experience her and life through her eyes.
To soak her in.
To try and memorize as many moments and as much about her as I can.
Because now that I've known her, I won't ever be able to shake her and sadly, however it comes...
Someday I'm going to have to give her away.
Turning 1 is just the first step.
Me and her, we made it.
We've been reflecting a lot this month on what we went through to get her. The difficult pregnancy. The easy birth. The really sweet first months.
God's goodness and sovereignty at work.
So easy to grasp on this side of the ordeal. But true nonetheless throughout it all. Just as real in the lows as in the highs. No where near as easy to accept then as it is now.
But real.
And now here we are.
The bird turns 1.
No more babies in the house.
No more babies ever in the house.
It hits me like a brick tonight.
The eve of 1.
No more babies.
Ever.
Regardless of how sure I am that three is enough. Regardless of how confident I am that we cannot handle another pregnancy like the ones I have. Regardless of how great life is now even.
While we sleep tonight, it changes.
People told me to soak it in. To enjoy all the little moments with her. To relish her baby self.
And I tried. And I even think I did a good job of that with her.
But tonight it doesn't feel like I remember enough.
It doesn't feel like I took in enough of her baby smell. Or kissed her teeny fingers and toes as many times as I should have. Or just sat with her and cuddled as often as she deserved.
The mix of pure joy and utter sadness that is unlike anything else in life.
To be a parent.
To be given something so lovely just to be asked to give it away.
I know that for some, the giving away comes much more suddenly and tragically than what I am talking about experiencing tonight.
And to be sure, I don't mean to trivialize their loss or the changes they are facing. In fact, I honor them. I can't wrap my mind around what that must be like.
I pray that the passing of years and the gradual loss of my kids to their adulthood is all that is ever asked of me, because tonight, staring in the face of 1, it feels like more than enough to have to handle.
Those baby days are gone, but she is not.
And I know how blessed that makes me.
Tomorrow means a new chance to love her.
To experience her and life through her eyes.
To soak her in.
To try and memorize as many moments and as much about her as I can.
Because now that I've known her, I won't ever be able to shake her and sadly, however it comes...
Someday I'm going to have to give her away.
Turning 1 is just the first step.
15 May 2011
Taking a minute...
...after a very long, heavy hearted week and before yet another busy one begins to remember some small spring joys.
Green buds on the trees, newly thrifted chairs on the patio, dandelion bouquets, sidewalk chalk, twinkle lights just waiting to be turned on, ice in my cup, moss, sandals that get put on just to be taken off on the other side of the door, laundry drying (quickly!) in the sun. Little bits of the happiness now.
14 April 2011
Time
I'm struck sometimes by the passing of time. How unforgiving it is - one minute the things are the way they've always been and the next minute everything has irrevocably changed and it's almost like you can't even remember what used to be so familiar.
Time is wonderfully ruthless.
My grandma used to have this tiny TV perched on the corner of her countertop at my mom's childhood home.
I haven't thought of it in years and years.
My memories of my granparents house usually consist of salmon sandwiches and salads with vinegary homemade dressing stored in old mustard containers, the huge freezer full of Revels and lemonade popsicles, pink walls, the mornings leftover toast on a plate waiting for someone to need a snack, a bowl of stale old dutch chips, opening handmade Christmas gifts (those quilts are still my favorite and my kids use the dresser now), that old patio umbrella, Brandy's big pen in the back, clothes drying on the line, the sink in the porch and the old wood highchair that sat back there too. Oh and the metal stool...
But the TV I had forgot about. Until today. When our dishwasher broke and I was forced to wash it's contents by hand. The baby was napping, the boy was at school, and the girl had busied herself elsewhere so I brought the computer into the kitchen with me to catch up on some old seasons of Project Runway. And it came back to me.
Soaps were the order of the day on that old tv and I used to love watching the work that happened in that kitchen on lazy (for me, that is) summer afternoons while All My Children played. On this one particular day my Grandma and Grandpa were making doughnuts in their electric frying pan. My grandpa moved faster than he does now and my grandma's hair wasn't nearly so white. I can see brief flashes of the pictures that used to sit on the shelves. My mom was there and they were talking but I don't remember what their conversation was about. Tad was on the the screen...
It all used to be so normal to me. So everyday.
And then time passed and to reflect on it now it feels surreal to think it was even real life.
My grandparents are still here but everything is different. Time has been gentle on my grandpa, and for a man in his 90's, he is well. Time has been exceptionally cruel for my grandma though and now I watch as my mom and aunt struggle to care for her. Some is age and some is unfortunate events that have happened but either way time has passed and she is a long way from those doughnut making days. And it's almost unbearably sad to think of the way things used to be and how easily forgotten it has all become.
A quick google search tells me that Tad is still wooing the ladies of Pine Valley.
Time there in that old TV has almost stood still but not here.
Here it soldiers on.
A blessing and a curse.
Time is wonderfully ruthless.
My grandma used to have this tiny TV perched on the corner of her countertop at my mom's childhood home.
I haven't thought of it in years and years.
My memories of my granparents house usually consist of salmon sandwiches and salads with vinegary homemade dressing stored in old mustard containers, the huge freezer full of Revels and lemonade popsicles, pink walls, the mornings leftover toast on a plate waiting for someone to need a snack, a bowl of stale old dutch chips, opening handmade Christmas gifts (those quilts are still my favorite and my kids use the dresser now), that old patio umbrella, Brandy's big pen in the back, clothes drying on the line, the sink in the porch and the old wood highchair that sat back there too. Oh and the metal stool...
But the TV I had forgot about. Until today. When our dishwasher broke and I was forced to wash it's contents by hand. The baby was napping, the boy was at school, and the girl had busied herself elsewhere so I brought the computer into the kitchen with me to catch up on some old seasons of Project Runway. And it came back to me.
Soaps were the order of the day on that old tv and I used to love watching the work that happened in that kitchen on lazy (for me, that is) summer afternoons while All My Children played. On this one particular day my Grandma and Grandpa were making doughnuts in their electric frying pan. My grandpa moved faster than he does now and my grandma's hair wasn't nearly so white. I can see brief flashes of the pictures that used to sit on the shelves. My mom was there and they were talking but I don't remember what their conversation was about. Tad was on the the screen...
It all used to be so normal to me. So everyday.
And then time passed and to reflect on it now it feels surreal to think it was even real life.
My grandparents are still here but everything is different. Time has been gentle on my grandpa, and for a man in his 90's, he is well. Time has been exceptionally cruel for my grandma though and now I watch as my mom and aunt struggle to care for her. Some is age and some is unfortunate events that have happened but either way time has passed and she is a long way from those doughnut making days. And it's almost unbearably sad to think of the way things used to be and how easily forgotten it has all become.
A quick google search tells me that Tad is still wooing the ladies of Pine Valley.
Time there in that old TV has almost stood still but not here.
Here it soldiers on.
A blessing and a curse.
28 February 2011
the in between
Mulling over this since I found it on this blog. Our life is definitely 'in between' right now and there's peace in knowing we aren't alone.
There's a place between here and there. A piece of ground in the middle of take-off and landing. A section of the unknown within beginning and ending. You probably find yourself there from time to time. It's the land known as Inbetween.
Inbetween is one of the most rugged places in life. You aren't fully here, and you aren't fully there. Your emotions and hopes are strewn across an endless list of possibilities. Door knobs of wood, brass, and silver line the path, but which will open? In the land of Inbetween, the paths are lined with sealed envelopes and foggy dreams. Excitement runs forward and fears hold back. And if you stay long enough, you feel the tremors of your soul.
The land of Inbetween is downright scary. It's a place of blind trust. It's where the pedals of faith meet the narrow road of fortitude and where movement is demanded though there's no place to go. The worst part of this land isn't the uncertainty or frustration that accompany it - it's that God likes it when you're there.
While He's no sadist, God loves the land of Inbetween. He loves what it does to us. He loves the humility and dependence it creates in our hearts, so He creates innumerable forks in life's road that swerve us into the land of Inbetween. The unknowns of job, marriage, children, and home are the signs of this uncertain land. At times, people are thrust into Inbetween by mishaps, accidents, sudden deaths, and even unexpected fortune. Some people visit so many times they begin to wonder if it's life. And they aren't far off.
So what will hold you steady when you walk through the terrain of Inbetween? A recognition that Inbetween is God's design. In one miraculous moment, the Creator of the universe placed you in the greatest Inbetween of all time - the place between the earthly creation and eternity. Life's smaller lunges forward and backward are merely postcard reminders that there's something greater than this place we're visiting.
If you're in your own land of Inbetween, remember that God was the original designer of this journey. You can get mad, scream, and even pout if you want. But it doesn't change the fact that you're merely passing through. Everything else is Inbetween. (from Deeper Walk, a Relevant Devotional Series)
*****************
There's a place between here and there. A piece of ground in the middle of take-off and landing. A section of the unknown within beginning and ending. You probably find yourself there from time to time. It's the land known as Inbetween.
Inbetween is one of the most rugged places in life. You aren't fully here, and you aren't fully there. Your emotions and hopes are strewn across an endless list of possibilities. Door knobs of wood, brass, and silver line the path, but which will open? In the land of Inbetween, the paths are lined with sealed envelopes and foggy dreams. Excitement runs forward and fears hold back. And if you stay long enough, you feel the tremors of your soul.
The land of Inbetween is downright scary. It's a place of blind trust. It's where the pedals of faith meet the narrow road of fortitude and where movement is demanded though there's no place to go. The worst part of this land isn't the uncertainty or frustration that accompany it - it's that God likes it when you're there.
While He's no sadist, God loves the land of Inbetween. He loves what it does to us. He loves the humility and dependence it creates in our hearts, so He creates innumerable forks in life's road that swerve us into the land of Inbetween. The unknowns of job, marriage, children, and home are the signs of this uncertain land. At times, people are thrust into Inbetween by mishaps, accidents, sudden deaths, and even unexpected fortune. Some people visit so many times they begin to wonder if it's life. And they aren't far off.
So what will hold you steady when you walk through the terrain of Inbetween? A recognition that Inbetween is God's design. In one miraculous moment, the Creator of the universe placed you in the greatest Inbetween of all time - the place between the earthly creation and eternity. Life's smaller lunges forward and backward are merely postcard reminders that there's something greater than this place we're visiting.
If you're in your own land of Inbetween, remember that God was the original designer of this journey. You can get mad, scream, and even pout if you want. But it doesn't change the fact that you're merely passing through. Everything else is Inbetween. (from Deeper Walk, a Relevant Devotional Series)
14 January 2011
cheerio dust
My life is covered in cheerio dust. Literally. ALL THE TIME. You know, the annoying dust at the bottom of the bag of cereal? Yeah that. That and dried drips of milk... and cracker crumbs... and tiny fingerprints... and drool... you get the idea.
I've struggled in life to feel content. To be happy with the now. To enjoy the messiness of life and all it's unknowns. I have spent the years since Elin's birth feeling a pervasive sadness and have allowed myself to see only the bad and rarely the good and I've wondered why I feel so miserable.
I've loathed the fact that my house doesn't look like the magazines I drool over. I've yelled because I can't take the kids chaos anymore. I've not been able to relax. My family has suffered under this.
During this last pregnancy things in our family hit their breaking point and it was apparent that some things in my heart needed healing. With my trust and faith so damaged though it was difficult to think that this was even possible.
Slowly though my heart has been changing and it started with quite a simple revelation; things aren't really that bad. Where my default thought was always a negative before it's changing to see so many positives. So I don't have a house with paint I picked and flooring I love, I have a warm place to sleep. So I was sick for a year, I have a beautiful baby NOW and I never have to do it again. So I don't live close to my family and friends anymore, we are going home eventually. So our apartment building is slightly... mmm, shall we say, ghetto?, last night we watched eight deer in the park just off the coulees that we are lucky enough to be just across the street from. So I haven't lost all the baby weight yet, I am changing that in a slow and healthy way. And at an even deeper level, and likely at the heart of all of this, so I don't feel worthy or good enough... it doesn't mean that it's true.
Exposing the lie, rejecting it as such and simply choosing to believe Christ's truth. Could it really be that easy?
I've been playing around with it and turns out it can.
I wasted a lot of time wishing the cheerio dust was fairy dust (I told you, we're heavily into Peter Pan at the moment) but all along it was better. And I'm only starting to see that. I can't wait to see where this ends up.
I've struggled in life to feel content. To be happy with the now. To enjoy the messiness of life and all it's unknowns. I have spent the years since Elin's birth feeling a pervasive sadness and have allowed myself to see only the bad and rarely the good and I've wondered why I feel so miserable.
I've loathed the fact that my house doesn't look like the magazines I drool over. I've yelled because I can't take the kids chaos anymore. I've not been able to relax. My family has suffered under this.
During this last pregnancy things in our family hit their breaking point and it was apparent that some things in my heart needed healing. With my trust and faith so damaged though it was difficult to think that this was even possible.
Slowly though my heart has been changing and it started with quite a simple revelation; things aren't really that bad. Where my default thought was always a negative before it's changing to see so many positives. So I don't have a house with paint I picked and flooring I love, I have a warm place to sleep. So I was sick for a year, I have a beautiful baby NOW and I never have to do it again. So I don't live close to my family and friends anymore, we are going home eventually. So our apartment building is slightly... mmm, shall we say, ghetto?, last night we watched eight deer in the park just off the coulees that we are lucky enough to be just across the street from. So I haven't lost all the baby weight yet, I am changing that in a slow and healthy way. And at an even deeper level, and likely at the heart of all of this, so I don't feel worthy or good enough... it doesn't mean that it's true.
Exposing the lie, rejecting it as such and simply choosing to believe Christ's truth. Could it really be that easy?
I've been playing around with it and turns out it can.
I wasted a lot of time wishing the cheerio dust was fairy dust (I told you, we're heavily into Peter Pan at the moment) but all along it was better. And I'm only starting to see that. I can't wait to see where this ends up.
01 November 2010
the baby and the scale
Is it possible to have a baby and divorce yourself from the scale? 
I've always known I was blessed to gain the weight I did in my pregnancies considering how sick I get, but I would be lying if I said the weight didn't eat at me almost immediately following delivery. I would be lying if I said there weren't feelings of failure tied with the inability to lose weight (unrealistically) quickly. I would be lying if I said I see my body now and can appreciate all the changes it's gone through if only because of all the good it gave me.
I am trying. But I am struggling to be convinced.
I know I will lose the weight.
I know the stretch marks will fade.
I know my husband loves me regardless.
I know the 30 pounds I've lost in less than two weeks is remarkable.
And I know I am so tired of believing lies about myself.
So I will try to cut myself some slack.
I will refocus my energy in the kitchen and re-school myself in the art of fresh, organic produce, vegan and vegetarian recipes, and whole foods.
I will walk and run and play with my kids.
I will resist the piles of halloween candy on my kitchen table.
I will enjoy taking care of my home and family again.
I will chose to rest in the love of my husband and more importantly Christ.
The scale was tucked away cozily for the last nine months, I'm sure it won't mind if we resume our casual acquaintances relationship status. As with all our company in the last two weeks, I could definitely use a breather.
20 July 2010
A love story.
When I first saw you, I hated you.
I was sure we would never get along much less become inseparable.
I thought I was above you and your trendiness.
I thought there was no way I could be comfortable with you.
And then I got to know you.
I was curious, I guess, so I asked Leah if she would walk me through our first encounter.
Just to see if we could maybe, possibly be compatible.
Our first date was strange and slightly awkward.
I wasn't used to all the closeness that you were obviously meant for.
I dropped you off and wasn't sure what the next step would be.
But I couldn't get you out of my mind.
I kept coming back to you and over time I chose you.
You and no other.
Every time.
You saw me through my struggle to lose all the weight of baby #1.
You saw me through my struggle to get pregnant with baby #2.
You saw me through my pregnancy with baby #2.
You even got bigger as I got bigger and I will always remember your sympathy.
You waited while I recovered from delivering baby #2.
I came back to you as soon as I could.
By that time I knew I would never question my devotion to you again.
Now I am pregnant with baby #3 and my own body feels foreign in ways it never did with the other two and our relationship has become strained.
I think about you everyday.
I have tried to alter those that have tried to replace you to feel more like you, but my efforts fall short.
Things are so different now.
I miss you.
I can't wait to get back to you.
I see you waiting for me and it motivates me.
You are the greatest jeans I have ever known.
There is no boot cut, no flare, no boyfriend cut, no straight leg that holds a candle to you.
You, skinny jeans, are my constant.
You have survived and surpassed the dreaded 'trend' phase.
Sure, there have been versions that have fallen by the wayside and extremes to which I will never take you, but you will ever have a place in my closet.
I love how you never make your way under my feet.
Your hems never wear out.
You look great in every wash.
I can wear you with boots and flats and sneakers and flip flops.
You never make me feel bad.
You and no other.
Until we meet again.
I was sure we would never get along much less become inseparable.
I thought I was above you and your trendiness.
I thought there was no way I could be comfortable with you.
And then I got to know you.
I was curious, I guess, so I asked Leah if she would walk me through our first encounter.
Just to see if we could maybe, possibly be compatible.
Our first date was strange and slightly awkward.
I wasn't used to all the closeness that you were obviously meant for.
I dropped you off and wasn't sure what the next step would be.
But I couldn't get you out of my mind.
I kept coming back to you and over time I chose you.
You and no other.
Every time.
You saw me through my struggle to lose all the weight of baby #1.
You saw me through my struggle to get pregnant with baby #2.
You saw me through my pregnancy with baby #2.
You even got bigger as I got bigger and I will always remember your sympathy.
You waited while I recovered from delivering baby #2.
I came back to you as soon as I could.
By that time I knew I would never question my devotion to you again.
Now I am pregnant with baby #3 and my own body feels foreign in ways it never did with the other two and our relationship has become strained.
I think about you everyday.
I have tried to alter those that have tried to replace you to feel more like you, but my efforts fall short.
Things are so different now.
I miss you.
I can't wait to get back to you.
I see you waiting for me and it motivates me.
You are the greatest jeans I have ever known.
There is no boot cut, no flare, no boyfriend cut, no straight leg that holds a candle to you.
You, skinny jeans, are my constant.
You have survived and surpassed the dreaded 'trend' phase.
Sure, there have been versions that have fallen by the wayside and extremes to which I will never take you, but you will ever have a place in my closet.
I love how you never make your way under my feet.
Your hems never wear out.
You look great in every wash.
I can wear you with boots and flats and sneakers and flip flops.
You never make me feel bad.
You and no other.
Until we meet again.
05 July 2010
Home.
I grew up with a very real sense of national patriotism. Not of the Canadian variety, either. With an immigrant for a father words like home and family often meant a place and people thousands of miles of blue water away. No one I knew grew up like this. It was completely normal and completely strange at the same time.
Hearing strains of different languages every Sunday when Dad called any number of aunts and uncles and cousins was comforting and special and often produced the oddest looks from friends that may have happened to be visiting during these calls. (Truth be told, I think it still throws the husband a little bit and he's been coming over for the last 14 years.) I don't think I have ever eaten a turkey for Christmas dinner, opting instead for traditional pork (with rinds) and candied potatoes and rice pudding for dessert. I have never opened gifts on Christmas morning. Until I got married no one ever pronounced my last name properly. I am forever ruined for North American made candy. I have an unnatural love for rye bread smothered in mackeral in red sauce and mayo. Sandwiches are always better open faced. I have an appreciation for teak that runs so deep it can only be genetically based. I think this heritage also would explain my love for all things mid-century modern because really does anyone do it better than the Scandinavians? Didn't think so. I can't even tell you how many times I've mourned the loss of the free education, extended vacation time, unreal healthcare, pension, insurance... and on and on it goes. The highest taxes in the world seem a small price to pay, right? Ah, maybe not, but it just sounds so good. And while my dad never taught us his language (for my thoroughly Canadian mom's sake)I think it's one of his biggest parenting regrets.
Until we were grown it was never an option for the whole family to make a pilgrimage 'home' but in 3 days time the only remaining one of us to not make the journey will get to. In fact everyone but me and my own little family will be there together in just hours. And it makes me sad. For a time we thought the trip would be possible, even with our meager new budget. Alas it wasn't meant to be and with good reason because as life unfolded in front of us and a baby came into being we realized it just wouldn't have worked.
Or it would have. But just like it did the last time. With me in a foreign bed, throwing up foreign food, while the husband explored on his own. 'Home' didn't feel so much like home then. Saskatchewan seemed liked Utopia for the agonizing few days that 5 week holiday actually lasted. And even though I can see all of the blessing's God's given us weave back to that trip and our early marriage I would never willingly go through that again. So while I wish I could make the trip... I am content to stay here, with the people who really make me feel at home, and wish bon voyage to the rest of them.
Don't forget to bring me some candy. The orange ones are my favorite.
Hearing strains of different languages every Sunday when Dad called any number of aunts and uncles and cousins was comforting and special and often produced the oddest looks from friends that may have happened to be visiting during these calls. (Truth be told, I think it still throws the husband a little bit and he's been coming over for the last 14 years.) I don't think I have ever eaten a turkey for Christmas dinner, opting instead for traditional pork (with rinds) and candied potatoes and rice pudding for dessert. I have never opened gifts on Christmas morning. Until I got married no one ever pronounced my last name properly. I am forever ruined for North American made candy. I have an unnatural love for rye bread smothered in mackeral in red sauce and mayo. Sandwiches are always better open faced. I have an appreciation for teak that runs so deep it can only be genetically based. I think this heritage also would explain my love for all things mid-century modern because really does anyone do it better than the Scandinavians? Didn't think so. I can't even tell you how many times I've mourned the loss of the free education, extended vacation time, unreal healthcare, pension, insurance... and on and on it goes. The highest taxes in the world seem a small price to pay, right? Ah, maybe not, but it just sounds so good. And while my dad never taught us his language (for my thoroughly Canadian mom's sake)I think it's one of his biggest parenting regrets.
Until we were grown it was never an option for the whole family to make a pilgrimage 'home' but in 3 days time the only remaining one of us to not make the journey will get to. In fact everyone but me and my own little family will be there together in just hours. And it makes me sad. For a time we thought the trip would be possible, even with our meager new budget. Alas it wasn't meant to be and with good reason because as life unfolded in front of us and a baby came into being we realized it just wouldn't have worked.
Or it would have. But just like it did the last time. With me in a foreign bed, throwing up foreign food, while the husband explored on his own. 'Home' didn't feel so much like home then. Saskatchewan seemed liked Utopia for the agonizing few days that 5 week holiday actually lasted. And even though I can see all of the blessing's God's given us weave back to that trip and our early marriage I would never willingly go through that again. So while I wish I could make the trip... I am content to stay here, with the people who really make me feel at home, and wish bon voyage to the rest of them.
Don't forget to bring me some candy. The orange ones are my favorite.
30 June 2010
breakfast in bed
Yes. That is my half eaten cheesecake... in my bed... at 10:00 this morning.
The bear, however, does not belong to me.
03 February 2010
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.
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.
26 January 2010
i need
to do something creative or I think I may burst... or die of boredom.
can a mom of two little people die of boredom?
yes. i think it's possible.
can a mom of two little people die of boredom?
yes. i think it's possible.
07 January 2010
an empty shell
I am in my last days in our home.
Only it doesn't really feel like home anymore. It feels like empty rooms stacked with boxes. Because that's all it is anymore. It feels like even our memories are packed away.
And I suppose that's good. Because then they come with us and don't depend on the space we made them in at all.
But it makes for some incredibly sad and hollow days here.
I am going to dearly miss this place.
Only it doesn't really feel like home anymore. It feels like empty rooms stacked with boxes. Because that's all it is anymore. It feels like even our memories are packed away.
And I suppose that's good. Because then they come with us and don't depend on the space we made them in at all.
But it makes for some incredibly sad and hollow days here.
I am going to dearly miss this place.
06 January 2010
best gift ever
I have a mad crush on David Gray.
I have since... argh, this is going to kill me to say... Rob introduced him to me, 10... 11(?) years ago. (Happy now?!)
And now I can say I've sat in the same room as him. THE SAME ROOM!
All of it was so worth it. Being stuck in the elevator. Getting sick, throwing up, and going to bed at 7:30 our first night away. Early flights and even earlier train rides. No room service. Stale chocolate bars from the vending machines. Swiss Chalet. All the worries of flying standby.
So, so worth it.
Because it was the same room.
so to my husband, who lets me fawn over another man like this... it was the best gift ever. thank you.
I have since... argh, this is going to kill me to say... Rob introduced him to me, 10... 11(?) years ago. (Happy now?!)
And now I can say I've sat in the same room as him. THE SAME ROOM!
All of it was so worth it. Being stuck in the elevator. Getting sick, throwing up, and going to bed at 7:30 our first night away. Early flights and even earlier train rides. No room service. Stale chocolate bars from the vending machines. Swiss Chalet. All the worries of flying standby.
So, so worth it.
Because it was the same room.
so to my husband, who lets me fawn over another man like this... it was the best gift ever. thank you.
31 December 2009
2010
is almost here! and we can hardly believe it.
We are oh-so excited for a truly new year.
for a new home.
for more time together.
for more games and less tv.
for more naps.
for new photos on our drivers licenses.
for our new church.
for healthier meals at home and less take out.
for living super close to the zoo... and ikea.
for birthdays 5 & 3 (!)
for digging into new books with renewed passion for reading.
for homeschooling to start (!)
for new vision.
for one less tax to pay.
for gym memberships.
for more relaxing.
for fun.
for rest, that's been so long in coming.
happy new year.
to you.
and to us.
15 December 2009
debbie downer
today, i do not want to be me.
There's too much to do, and no motivation to do it.
My clothes don't fit, and I'm doubtful they ever will again.
I don't have a phone or a vehicle, so now that all possible activities on the internet are exhausted, I am stuck here in the mess with screaming kids who won't nap.
I have a Christmas party tonight. bleh.
My make up ran out three days ago and I still haven't replaced it. With my lack of makeup and my body rippling out of my clothes, I should be a sight to see at this soiree.
I just want someone, anyone, at this point it doesn't even need to be my husband, to come through the door and fix it all. Pack it all. Lose it all. Cook it all. Send me to bed and not wake me up until it's over.
05 December 2009
scared.
it's probably my favorite hip song ever. and that's saying a lot... or not much. i don't really like the hip much (and a collective Canadian gasp rises from the crowd) but this song is a keeper. one of those little gems that you don't think about often and isn't even in your itunes library but that every once in a while trickles out of your subconscious and you remember how good it is.
i sat down to write this post about how downright scared I feel about life right now, and typing that one little word, triggered a flood of lyrics and memories and off to youtube i went to find it. you know, because it's not in my itunes library.
on a side note: it's slightly scary but oh so convenient that you can find anything, (anything!) you want on youtube.
...so, i was going to wax on about the crumpled heap of mess it feels like we are on the verge of becoming. but instead I am going to take a little youtube assisted trip through my memory and trust that someone who is surprised by nothing holds it all together for me.
whether i like it or not.
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