Things I will miss once you're here...

1. seeing my belly roll like the ocean waves
2. being physically connected to you
3. listening to your heartbeat inside me
4. feeling little feet under my ribcage
5. seeing you respond to my nudges with a nudge of your own
6. Dave cuddling around my belly to be close to you
7. knowing you're almost completely safe in there
8. strangers starting up conversations with me because of the baby bump

Soon, soon, soon

This morning I awoke at 5 am--the usual urge to relocate to the facilities yet again.  The sun was just starting to gleam weakly through the dark curtains in the bedroom, and the baby started to roll and tumble in my tummy.  It ached, and continued no matter which way I tossed about.  I wondered, "Is this it?" I knew however that I was just being frivolous with my thoughts, my excited hope for the soon soon soon.  Only yesterday I had been told I was closed tighter than a scared turtle, not in so many words mind you, but I hoped and wondered nonetheless.  Isn't it funny--the things we consider, allowing our minds to wander aimlessly, or it is just me that lets mine go off unchaperoned without a care in the world?  I used to spend hours laying out a perfect plan of execution for the uses of the money I would win from the lottery--the lottery I never bought a ticket for, and was too young to buy.  But the soon soon soon will not quit echoing in my heart, my head, my stomach.  I see little feet the size of my thumb as I throw the tennis balls to the dogs in the early morning.  I smell baby's head as I bake banana bread before the sprinklers turn on in the haze of sunrise.  I feel small fists curl around my finger as I turn on the coffee pot and make my favorite dark roast for breakfast.  It is not this morning, but it is soon, soon, soon...

Eucharisteo

I'm reading a book right now, mentioned in my previous post, called "One Thousand Gifts."  It's very good, and today I read about eucharisteo, or thanksgiving.  How we cannot truly be saved without thanksgiving in our hearts to God, in everything.  Humans were kicked out of the garden of Eden for not being thankful for what God had given them, for looking for more.  So to remedy that, we must be thankful in everything, and this can be traced through Jesus' life on earth as well.  We see that in the most extreme circumstances, he gives thanks to his father.  The chapter I read in the book today talked about how true joy, and living in this life with a purpose, comes from our willingness to give thanks to God for all things.  I was sitting here thinking, "how do I give thanks to God for a miscarriage, for disease, for death"; just saying "thank you God for my miscarriage" was very weird, and I asked God if I was doing it right.  I want to thank him in all things, because I know that he is a God of grace, love, joy, and thanksgiving, and he gives us power to partake in those things, but physically, verbally, emotionally, HOW do we do that.  I don't have an answer really, except to say, if I ask him how, I know he will show me, so I will just keep doing it until he has perfected it in me.  So today I say eucharisteo--thankgiving, chara--joy, charis--grace, and wonder if those should be my next tattoos, to constantly remind me that they are God's keys, his gifts, his way of salvation and way living it out and accepting it in our daily lives.

If Grace is an ocean we're all sinking...

Yesterday hit me about Saturday afternoon.  "Mother's Day is tomorrow," I thought...I want to hide.  At the first "happy mother's day," I wanted to turn and run.  Instead of dredge up a smile and say, "thank you," I wanted to say, "It should have been."  But having a big baby bump is not the way to be inconspicuous on Mother's Day--you get lots of "awww's" and "when are you due"s.  Last Mother's Day I announced we were going to have a baby to my Mom & Dad; I was so excited to tell them on this day.  I sent Mom a card that said something like, "Happy Grandmother's Day," and then penciled in "again."  She didn't get it at first--but then, I was told, she burst in to tears and gave me a call.  People always ask if this is my first, and I say 'yes,' but I want to say "No, we lost Grace."  But thankfully she was never lost, and I was never alone, and God gave me Grace, and more grace, to say, "You are enough God."  

I picked up a book a friend lent me, probably 8 months ago, off my book shelf today.  I don't even remember who's book it is, but I just needed a book to read along with my quiet time, and this one caught my eye.  It's called, "One Thousand Gifts," and it's about accepting grace after hurt, death, and hardship.  Amazing that I would pick it up today--one of the Spirit's blessings that he prompts our hearts with what we need at just the right moment.  

I am blessed and constantly awed to have this new little baby growing inside me, to feel it kick and move my whole belly, to watch my swollen stomach like the ocean, moving to and fro.  But I do not forget Grace, and all that God taught us, and brought us through.

We hadn't picked out the name Grace--or really any names at that point.  Honestly telling everyone I was pregnant that early would have been frowned upon by the doctor, a careless move to give out hope so early.  We lost her only 9 weeks in, and we told everyone right away.  We were so full of hope and giddiness, that we didn't want to wait--didn't see the need.  But I'm glad, in a sense, that we shared our news, because we were able to share our heartache too, and that allowed God to work His love more deeply into our lives because we couldn't hide what was ailing us, and our family and friends, new and old, surrounded us.  

I was sitting at Fire Circle one night during camp, I'm not sure what week it was, when this praise and worship song, "How He Loves Us," was played:

He is jealous for me
Loves like a hurricane
I am a tree
Bending beneath
The weight of his wind and mercy
When all of a sudden
I am unaware of these
Afflictions eclipsed by glory
And I realize how beautiful you are
And how great your afflictions for me

CHORUS: 

Oh how he loves us so
Oh how he loves us
How he loves us so

We are his portion
And he is our prize
Drawn to redemption by the grace in his eyes
If grace is an ocean we're all sinking
So heaven meats earth like a sloppy wet kiss
And my heart burns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about the way
He loves us

CHORUS

I thought about you
The day Stephen died
And you met me between my breaking
I know that I still love you God
Despite the agony
See people they want to tell me your cruel
But if Stephen could sing
He'd say its not true
Cause your good

After that song, I couldn't get the word "grace" out of my head.  I went home and talked to Dave about it, how I felt maybe we should call our little one Grace, and he agreed.  Because she was such grace to us, and God showed his grace through her, and through a million other ways in our lives.  And though it is still painful to think she would have been almost six months old today,  I know God's hands were on me, and her, and Dave, and though I don't know the why,  I don't need to.  For the first time in my life maybe, I don't need to know why.  I just need to know God.  "Because these afflictions are eclipsed by glory....and I'm drawn to redemption by the love in His eyes; if grace is an ocean we're all sinking...I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way He loves me."

Prejudices

In general, I think all people are capable of all manner of harm, but hope for them to struggle against those negative thoughts/actions/yearnings, and constantly improve on their failings.  I believe that it is extremely improbable, if not impossible, for a person to be unprejudiced.  Some may say I am using the word "prejudice" in the place of "bias," but I feel that "prejudice" IS "bias" with negative emotion attached, and therefore it works for my explanation at this point.  We so often think of prejudice in only the extreme forms--racism, religious extremism, bullying, hate crimes, etc, but we miss the ones that affect our every day actions.  The outgoing vs. the introvert, skinny vs. fat, curly hair vs. straight hair, loud vs. quiet, open-minded vs. close-minded, Christian vs. non, American vs. non, Republican vs. Democrat, Northern vs. Southern, upper-class vs. working-class, mine vs. yours, these are some of the things that control the way we do things.  Having a prejudice is always a bad thing; whereas having a bias is just a fact of life.  For example, if we have had a good experience with family, we are generally biased that our spouse is the best, that our children are the most beautiful babies, and where we lived as a child was the greatest childhood experience we could have had.  It is turning those biases into prejudices where we fall short.  If we use our bias that our child was the most beautiful baby to bash other people's babies, then our bias becomes a prejudice.  I have curly hair, am a Republican, and was home schooled; two of those things I rarely share with others for fear of being looked down upon or criticized.  However, I am also prejudiced against home schoolers--for the most part I assume home schoolers are under-socialized, poor communicators, wear weird clothes, are a bit on the odd side, and have too large of families.  I'm also prejudiced against most Republicans, because it seems to me they pick one thing to vote on or get up on their soap box about, and then ignore everything else.  On the flip side, staunch Democrats annoy me because they have literally gotten up in my face, and yelled at my "poor" decision making when it comes to the present decisions of the U.S. President I elected four years ago. (Maybe I should change to being an Independent.)  However I struggle against these prejudices because I know that they are not positive aspects of my life; they do no allow me to interact with more people in a positive way, have meaningful conversations, share common interests, or see from another point of view without altering my own beliefs.  The question I'd like to put forth to you is this: are you willing to admit that your every day, or possibly even deep seeded prejudices are real, and will you struggle against them?  I will always have prejudices, new ones that pop up with new experiences, but I pray that I will always struggle against them, to put old prejudices behind me, and push with love towards the new ones I will encounter.

Praying for His Spirit

A couple of years ago, and a couple of weeks forward in March, I wrote a blog about how I felt returning from South Africa after working in the orphanage.  I was reminded of that post, called Eustace, today when I was reading in "Forgotten God" by Francis Chan, about how the Spirit works in us.  Chan talks about how it is often a painful process of transformation that we must go through before we become what He wants us to be.  I am also reminded of what I wrote today because of the ministry we were able to interact with in Mexico on our vacation, and the many things I've been reading, and God has been teaching me in the last few weeks.  I feel a yearning to be a soldier for Him, to war against myself, putting my ego, self-esteem, personality traits, useless hungerings at His feet--laying myself down to become nothing of myself and more of Him.  The couple we met in Mexico, Gena and Andrew, run a coffee shop called El Buho (the owl) in a little town called Hidalgo (yes, like the horse movie).  They are missionaries there, the same age as Dave and I, and have just had their first son six months ago.  Their coffee shop ministers mainly to the international climbing scene (as that's why people go to Hidalgo if their not from there), and the money is used to help build Christian schools in the area.  They work in a local church with the youth group as well, plus Gena teaches at the Christian middle school, and they are helping to try and build a local library too!  They inspire me--sparking a hunger Christ has been building in me for some time now--a hunger to step OUT of my comfort zones, to be used greatly and deeply by Him.  I know that the purpose of this hunger is not to make me discontent with my surroundings, but to push me to greater sacrifice of who I am, and what I want with my life, and what exactly that means.  I want to know God's will, regardless of where or to whom it takes me.  Pray that I do exactly that--and stay open to His leadings.

Excitement

This week is an exciting week.  Today, Dave and I go to a new parent's meeting at the doctor's office.  Hoping we get to meet some other new parents, and find out what their experiences have been, and what prenatal classes they plan on taking.  Tomorrow I get to see Wicked, the musical, for the first time!!! I'm super excited about that!  Dave bought me tickets for Christmas, and we're going to make a big date night out of it.  I'm dressing up, since I rarely get to do that, and we're going out to eat Thai food before that (I've been craving it lately).  We've also been looking at baby changing tables/drawer combos.  Here's a  changing table we really like from craige's list in Burbank.  If it works out we're hoping to stop by and take a look at it tomorrow night. Sunday I leave for the Oak's Women's Retreat, down in Ventura at the beach house owned by ministry.  I've been asked to lead a Bible study session, which I'm pretty nervous about, but again, excited.  Also, Venture is right on the beach, so I'm hoping it's warm enough to at least sit on the beach for a bit and relax.  And the city has GREAT thrift stores, so definitely want to check out those with some of the ladies from here that know the place really well.  Anyway--that's about it!  Just wanted to fill you in on some excitement in my life.  

A longed for moment

This last Monday, January 10th, something happened I had been waiting for for a long time--I got to hear a heartbeat.  Ever since last July, when the time came and went when we should have been able to hear our little Grace's heartbeat, I have ached to hear that sound coming from my own belly.  Every doctor's appointment at the OB, I would hear that sound emanating from other patient's rooms, and I would wonder if that time would come for me.  Even after we were able to conceive again, with the complications we had over these last few months, I never fully allowed myself to believe that we would be allowed to hear it.  I've often spoken of how I felt about my miscarriage as a loss of innocence; like the first time a child realizes his parents aren't immortal, all-protecting beings.  I lost the ability to hope, and am still struggling to get it back.  I read a blog recently, passed on to me by a friend, that spoke of this feeling with complete clarity by another mom who has had the same experience.  After hearing that heartbeat, I cried tears of relief and joy into Dave's arms.  And yet, I don't feel pregnant.  I know that sounds weird, and I see this bump growing on my belly, and I talk about it with friends, but I don't know how to feel!  I'm not sad or depressed, but I just haven't connected with this little one.  I've read books that say this is normal, but I don't want it to be normal; I want to be uncontrollably happy for this baby growing inside me, for the future of our family, for this hope.  I mourn the loss of this innocence, but don't we all?  There are points in our lives when we lose something so dear to us, and we come to a crossroads we don't know how to continue through.  And it is at those times, if we allow him to, that God comes and leads us through it.  I pray I will start actively getting know this little one inside me; talking to it more, and worrying about it less, but for right now, I'm content to know that God is doing that for me.  He is guiding my heart, and the baby's heart, and he will connect them when mine is ready.  I do look forward to that day we will meet him or her, and I know, if not before, I will then be forever bonded to this little heartbeat within me.

Dave's birthday reel

Climbing at Stoney Point

                                                              Sunbathing on the beach

                                                       walking Santa Monica Blvd

tree + sunset

                                                                beautiful sunset

                                                          Birthday cheesecake (Sylvia's lemon
                                                    cheesecake recipe turned out great!)

2011 Reflection

As my Christmas tree still twinkles in the background, it feels like any other day in the last weeks of 2011, except it's not.  Today is January 3rd, it's 65 and sunny here in Cali, and I should probably go check on my neighbor's flowers that I'm supposed to be watering...and get her mail too (I should have mentioned to her I have a black thumb when it comes to plants; I'm just hoping they'll all LOOK like they are still alive until a few days after she returns...that being tomorrow).

Yesterday was Dave's birthday.  We went to his favorite bouldering place, Stoney Point, just outside of Simi Valley, and then on to Santa Monica beach--somewhere he hadn't been yet, but is a new favorite of mine.  We sat on the beach, people watched, strolled through the shopping district, and watched a magnificent sunrise....and not once did I think, "I should have been a Mom by now."  God is so merciful, gracious, good, and kind is He not?  He allows us to mourn deeply, but also to have joy in the beautiful moments of our lives.

This year has been such a fantastic year for learning, growing, loving, and overcoming.  A job that Dave was very passionate about, with colleagues and kids he grew to love dearly, ceased to exist, while another one grew up in its place.  I finished my first year of teaching, and realized, though I still maintain middle schoolers are an alien race, that they have such amazing personalities, ambitions, courage, and ofttimes hurt and anger, but that they gave me quite a bit of joy.  We found out we were expecting our first child, and were extremely delighted, frightened, and excited for the next part of our adventures to begin...and begin they did.

In May Dave moved out to California, and started his new job as the Adventure Director for The Oaks Camp and Conference Center, while I finished up my school year teaching.  He trained his new staff, I figured out we owned a lot of stuff we never used, and possibly never have.

On June 27th, my older sister, Shannon, and my younger sister, Bethany, and I, set out on an across the country road trip to my new home.  We packed my little Fit to the brim, donned our sunglasses, and headed for Memphis!  The bbq was divine, and the Elvis statue was closer than we thought, though the creepy guy that managed the camp ground gave is the heebie-jeebies.  The next day we got up, and drove through a deluge in Arkansas, where we saw no less than 6 airplane wings on the back of semis (do they make them there?), and finally arrived in Hot Springs, AK, at a famous bathing house, to get hot springs baths and massages.  It was my birthday, and the day I started bleeding.  I didn't tell them until half-way through lunch, and we decided to go to the hospital.  That's where I learned Bethany can be fiercely protective, especially with mean nurses, and Shannon will take control when you can't bare the thought of trying to think.  And that four sister's arms to hold you up when the world comes crashing down, when no heartbeat appears, when tears turn to crushing sobs, are exactly what you need.

The next morning my sisters asked me if I wanted to drive straight to California, and I said no, I wanted that time with them, and the memories of that road trip, and I'm so glad I did!  That road trip from North Carolina, to Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, and finally California, changed my life.  We saw the Cadillac Ranch in Texas, the amazing canyon and star strewn New Mexico, the beautiful Grand Canyon in Arizona, and the massive Hoover Dam in Nevada.
 I learned that Bethany can sleep anywhere, Shannon gets up much earlier than I prefer, and no one likes my music.  I also learned it is quite easy to get lost with three people that have no sense of direction, even though we had a perfectly good GPS, and a road map, that Texas is WAAAY too hot for me, that jumping into a freezing cold lake with your two sisters while  onlooking fishermen laugh at you in the middle of New Mexico is quite invigorating, that Shannon will never be by my side as I look over the canyon edge, or I will be carrying her for the rest of the day, that the Hoover Dam is in fact in Nevada (though we didn't even know till that afternoon we were driving over it), that Vegas isn't that great--but the Belagio fountain is pretty cool, and that the tattoo artist we used in California is much better with tattoos than he looks--which is good, cause they're permanent.  Overall, I learned my sisters are my biggest allies, my husband is the strongest man that I will ever hold in my arms, and my God is enough, no matter what.

When I got here, an amazing group of new friends appeared out of the woodwork.  I found a new movie buddy (he laughs at all the hilarious parts and Dave just rolls his eyes at us--it works out).  Four amazing women befriended me (I still remember sitting in Olive Garden and thinking how awesome it was to live right beside them, and know they would keep me in their hearts).  Silly summer staff invited us into their fun adventures, and one even let Dave shave his head--good thing too, as using a regular razor on his head was not looking promising.  Families invited us into their lives--Mike always laughs at my short jokes, and follows them up with some of his own.  And friends back in North Carolina sent us tons of messages--letting us know we were loved no matter where we were.

As my parents moved to Papua New Guinea to start their missions work, my family drew closer together; calling, texting, and sending funny cards to let each other know, even though Mom and Dad were not around, that our family was important, and would always be there.  Mom and Dad found out they were stronger than they ever knew, and they could build relationships even when language was a barrier.  And we found out distance was no measure of love or relationship.

This year was a growing year----and I hope I'll grow twice as much this year, and in the years to come.

The Nelson's 1st Christmas

This is our first Christmas weekend just the two of us.  I do miss being with family, but I also have truly enjoyed the time, just Dave and I.  Today, on Christmas Eve, I got up, and made breakfast for the two of us--"eggy in a basket" (a piece of toast with a hole cut in the middle, then fried an egg in the hole and toasted on both sides) and grits.  It turned out pretty good, even though Dave usually makes that meal.  After a relaxed morning, we had soup for lunch (we both still have a bit of a cold), and then took a nap.  Then we took the dogs for a nice long walk along the Northwestern loop trail, and let them run.  It was beautiful up there.  You gain enough elevation to look down over camp during some parts, and on others, you look down over the valley on the other side.  It was perfect to walk and talk together.  Then we came back and had some tea.  Now Dave and the dogs are taking nap #2, while I sit on the couch in front of the roaring fire in the wood stove, lights twinkling on the Christmas tree, and write.  In a little while we're going to head out to the small presbyterian church here in our little town, and go to the candlelight service there.  I always enjoy going to Grandmama's church for their Christmas Eve service, as well as Mervyn and Sylvia's church for the midnight Christmas Eve service.  Hopefully this one will be just as good.  Only half the Christmas weekend is over, and it has already been so wonderful.  I am truly blessed to have this time to spend with Dave, knowing my family across the States, and the ocean, love us, and are just a phone call or Skype conversations away.  We love you all dearly.  Merry Christmas.

Green

I find it quite amazing that things grow here so easily.  And if you have been to Southern California, you probably think I'm crazy, but let me banter a bit.  This is a desolate land for the most part.  There is always dust and sand everywhere.  Scrub bushes and ruddy trees (call Scrub Oak) dot the landscape.  Pine trees are the tallest and largest trees here.... But when the weather turns cooler, and it rains for days, the ground comes alive!  Just outside our house there is a path to the Leap of Faith high ropes element, and further on, the swing set, and soccer/baseball fields.  At the beginning of that path, little shoots of grass have started coming up, of their own accord!  Grass doesn't grow here, by itself, without being unnaturally watered, unless it is raining (which only happens in the fall and winter I am told).  The ground just soaks up every little bit, and throws out grass, flowers, and sprigs of small plants that have been just waiting for moisture.  It's fun to see the transition of the land.  To enjoy a cloudy night sky, cold wind, and a hot seat by the wood stove.  God is teaching me to love this place, but I still miss you.

Flightless Hope

Emily Dickenson famously said, “Hope is the thing with feathers,” but all feathers do not fly. 

Ostriches have feathers—watchful, proud, strong, fearless, violent creatures.   Often hope must be fearless, and violently protective to survive; it must snap at the first hint of threat.  It must run so swiftly with the wind, that flight seems possible, to endure the times the wind is silent, and the howls come only from the soul.  It must puff itself up to look regal, in stunning black and white, to stare down its beak with such a fierce look as to silence the pity that the eagle and the dove so quickly bestow.  The eye says—you will not make me your pawn; fly as high as you wish, I can break you with one clip of my mighty legs, one swipe of my angry beak.  Your pity is not welcome here—do not be so bold as to grieve for me in embrace.  For an embrace will surely mean death, to your throat and my grit. For valor I have, but restraint I can only contain for a while. 

The dove is meek and mild in her approach, and while she tries to empathize, her tears only incite her own comforting, and strength is expended, the little store wasted on one who is not the flightless party.

The kingly, majestic eagle looks down its nib as only a royal would do.  Knowing it may be no match for the ostrich’s strength, but the ostrich will never keep its young on a cliff, miles above all its prey.  It also pities the ostrich for its perilous young, stranded on the earth, with only its weak courage to protect them.  The eagle is cool and collected, knowing the ostrich has much to favor, and envy, but never saying so, as that would give way to maliciousness and cruelty.  It inclines its head in the ostrich’s direction, and nods its crown in respect to the weaker fowl.

The penguin is not commonly thought of as a feathery familiar, but it is.  It oft is overlooked for its merits as a bird—only thought of adoringly, with childlike virginity and wholesomeness.  It mates for life—a well-known, repetitively spoken fact.  But feathery friend or foe, the details bereft of this get foggy.  Their penguin suit is likened to formal wear, as these beasts of great character rightly deserve.  They know community like no sanctuary has ever seen—fishing with grace, diving with beauty, surrounded by peers and family alike.  The males dance in unison, wooing their females, laying claim to their young’s refuge and nest.  The penguin is not afraid to display himself foolishly for his love. For all this the penguin is the only one who really “gets” the ostrich.  No feathers, no flight, no soaring above the heights—but great courage is often shown in the differences between honor and ego.  And for that, if the penguin could, or ever would, the ostrich just might allow the smallest embrace, enfolded in the penguin’s chivalrous bosom, and let his tears of hope flow freely.  Because the hope of a penguin, and of an ostrich, is much smaller, and therefore a hardier substance.  The smallness of it often seems to disappear altogether—but it still exists, in a still small form that ebbs and flows with the tide.

If ______, Then___________.

This week’s Women’s Bible study, on Esther, was extremely powerful for me.  It challenged how most of the way that I live is based on fear.  Fear of failure, loss, hurt, success, or fear itself.  A few years ago I had night terrors on a regular basis.  I had them when I was younger, and was never able to tell anyone about them, because what I dreamed was so vivid and evil.  I guess I thought if I told anyone about what I dreamed, that would reflect on me somehow, or it would say that I was a bad person.  These night terrors were awful—the worst fear I have ever felt.  I would be immobilized by my fear; paralyzed in every sense of the word.  My whole body would be drenched in sweat, and I literally could not move a muscle, usually not even to wake Dave.  The dreams were usually about someone being in my house, about safety of myself and other family members.  I remember the dream I had when I was young very clearly; to this day I remember it to a T.  I had it over and over again for years.  It always involved my mom and I getting hunted down, sometimes by the betrayal of a friend. 

The Bible study today focused on the question, “What if fear was not involved in your decision making process.”  I immediately thought, “I would write more, read more, befriend more, put myself out there more, serve more, spend less time on appearances,” and on and on.  The Bible study leader said to do this fill in the blank.  If______, then_______.  We are supposed to fill in the first blank with one of our worst fears, and the second with what would happen to us, or what we would do, if that were realized.  This last week the devil has been trying to fill me with fear over my dad having malaria.  The devil seemed to whisper, “He may die, you may never see him again, he will never meet any of your future children!”  So this is the blank I chose to fill in, and it would go something like this.

            If my dad dies in Papua New Guinea, then my mom will fall apart.  I will fall apart.  My sisters and brothers will fall apart.  We will have to live in world where my father no longer exists. Where he was SUPPOSED to live to 80 something. He will never meet my children—he, the man who loves babies, will never tell him/her about how (s)he is a better swimmer/climber/bicycler/writer/math student             than his/her mother. He will never take them camping, or teach them to tell direction by the movement of the sun.  He won’t bend down on one knee in front of them and say, in his kind voice, “Ohhh, that’s ok,” when something of his gets broken, because he doesn’t care about things.  I will never hear my Daddy laugh again; he will never take my arm in his, he will never skip embarrassingly through             the grocery store park in lot with me holding his hand.  I will fall apart….and then I will slowly start to heal, piece by piece.  I will remember….the good times—when he took me on camping trips, taught me how to set up a tent, build a fire, rappel, hike, tried to teach me a sense of direction-and how to read a map, taught me to choose a man by his character.  I will remember him playing capture the flag with water guns on my 16^th birthday, and the speech he gave when I graduated high school, and his arm in mine as I walked down the isle on my wedding day—three events my friend Jenny did not get to experience with her dad.  And I will thank God profusely for allowing me to have a father that raised             me to love God, and who loved God himself, and ALL he wanted for his children, and THEIR children, was for them to do the same. 

And then fear is gone, and courage is in its place.  Because I know that “If______, then God .”  Because, as each challenge arises, our heavenly father is there, taking our hand, and heart in his, and giving us new strength and will that are not ours but his.  He will be there with courage to spare.  2 Tim. 1:7 “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but one of power, love, and sound judgment.”

missing leaves

A fav. photo of Island Park back in Bryson during the Fall

Mamma

Missin my Mamma today--wondering if she would like the writing I've been doing lately, if it would make her laugh.   Wondering if she would stare at the pile of dishes on my counter, or roll her eyes at the fact that the clothes I washed three days ago are still in the dryer--dry.  Thinking this is the time of year they usually go camping, and wondering if she's thinking of cooler days around a campfire.  I know we would share a laugh over the fact that half the plants I bought a few months ago are already dead--but that having half still alive is still a pretty big deal.  I wish I could call her up, and just chat about the weather, making friends, and how everyone is doing at home.  I miss you Mamma; can't wait to talk soon.

YOU are enough

Lord, You are enough, when the tears rain down like icebergs melting in May. Lord, You are enough, when our wishes we will, aren't Your will, that day.  Lord, You are enough, when all seems lost.  Lord, You are enough, when it is the greatest of costs.  Lord, You are enough, when we only have the strength to whisper Your name.  Lord, You are enough when if feels as if nothing will ever be the same.  Lord, You are enough, when my throat burns with tears unshed.  Lord, You are enough, when the healing words go unsaid.  Lord, You are enough, when the sun basks on my skin.  Lord, You are enough, when fears creep in.  Lord, You are enough, when my day falls neatly into place, and You are enough, when piles of dishes are too vast to face.  Lord, You are enough, when my friendships are faithful, and You are enough, when they turn hateful.  Lord, You were enough for my darkest hour, and I thank you for making the words, "You are enough," lift my soul from its cower.

LN

The Girl with the Traveling Tattoo

That is the title of the parody Dave thinks I should write on the books "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" and" The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo."  Who knows, it could be amusing.  I have been writing a lot as of late, but not fiction.  The work I'm writing with a vengeance at the moment is much more personal, and I'm not sure it will ever see the light of day, but it feels good to write with a purpose.  I've been reading so much lately, all fiction, and loving it, but I'm not sure what I would write if I wrote fiction.  I don't really care about creating stories so much as reading them.  I love getting lost in their intricate lives and stories.  I just finished reading The Hunger Games, and if you want to get truly taken away in a story, you should sit down to read that one.  Just know you're not going to be able to think about anything else until you finish all three.  I realize that's not a convenience most people, especially people with kids, can afford, but give yourself an hour a day and jump in.  You won't be disappointed.  Well, I guess this post is just to say, "I've been writing," which lots of you have encouraged me to do, so there you have it.

Now that I think about it--the title of this blog could be a autobiography.....hmmmm.

Pine needles

I cannot walk through a pine forest and fail to be transported immediately back to my ten year old self, racing through the woods beside siblings on the way to Mame and Pop's house at Lake Norman, trying to beat my parents driving around by the road.  It is my most pungent memory--my strongest most fragrant reminder of sunset dinners on the boat, playing with old Legos, a random phone in a box nailed to a pine tree, being made to wear a swim belt even in shallow water, and swinging too high (and getting scolded for it) on the sunroom swing.  The smell of pine needles brings back all these things--even in the midst of a walk in Yosemite, I am reminded.

gratuitous tears

Sometimes I feel myself start to tear up, and I don't know why I'm crying...and then I remember my heart is still tender, and baby bumps and wee sleepy snuggles come to mind. I stare openly and unashamed at the cute ones that gurgle and bounce on a daddy's knee at dinner, or trundling tots as they adventure off on their own, maneuvering endless legs and tables that reach to the heavens. I feel I have no right to these tears--as travesties of vast proportions have wrecked the world, and all I have is a one-time empty womb, and hope for a future time... A dear friend once told me, she never overlooks others' pain, no matter how tiny it seems to some, and I hope I am so gracious--I strive to be so gracious..."God make my heart bigger, not smaller"