My Backyard View

new eyes

2011-04-20T14:04:00.002-06:00

Everywhere I look spring is happening. Beautiful white and pink blossoms, tulips and daffodils, fresh brand-new-green aspen leaves against white bark. Something wonderful is going on here...

As Easter approaches, I can't help but believe spring is creation shouting out that new life is happening all around us. That what once seemed dead, was actually being repurposed and reborn to something bright and beautiful. All of creation is blossoming and declaring: JESUS IS ALIVE! And that in Him we grow and blossom and are reborn with the seasons' change.

Can you see it? Can you feel it?

When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen: “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”

“I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.” (Luke 19:37-40)

i heart etsy

2011-04-05T13:42:00.017-06:00

I found this wonderful print on etsy (it's titled "Believe It," isn't that great?) and the frame at Michael's and viola! the perfect something for the girls' bathroom: And my super talented friend, Traci, who designed these (ah, Paris)...

...and she made this just for me (one of my favorite things ever)... ...has her own store here. I LOVE ETSY!! (Yes, I'm yelling it.)

one fab friend

2011-03-09T13:26:00.009-07:00

friend (frend) n.
1. a person known well to another and regarded with liking, affection, and loyalty; an intimate.
2. an ally in a fight or cause; supporter

As I sit down to write this, I have a big ole' smile on my face. My heart feels more full, my head is more clear, I am more myself (and proud of it!). This is due to the fact that I just spent a long weekend in Charlottesville, Virginia with my beloved friend, Miska Collier.

I want to write many things, but what I will say is this: Miska is my loyal ally. She and I are battling together to live from our hearts, to embrace our uniqueness and giftedness, to be nobody but ourselves "in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else." I know God gave her to me, in part, to show me a clearer picture of who I really am (that's one of her many gifts). What more could you ask for in a friend? (Maybe to be beautiful, have great dance moves, and love chocolate as well? Done, done and done.)

As I re-enter into life from such a sweet time together and drown my sorrows with some yummy wine, I will raise my glass (wink, wink) to my friend, my ally; and shout a big "woohoo!" in the name of one fabulous woman and one amazing friendship.

pottery class

2011-02-23T11:02:00.008-07:00

I finished my pottery class last week. I am now officially a potter. Just kidding, I'm a fledgling potter at best - flailing and messy and continually uncentered. (Pretty much sums up my life.) I'll let you in on a little secret: I thought I would be really good at pottery. I had images in my mind of throwing these beautiful bowls and pots and my instructor being quite impressed at my natural giftedness. This was so not true of me.

This was true, however, of my classmate. He is a man in his late 40's who is a self-described hippie-at-heart, tattooed with a Native American symbol, and an artist. He sat down at the wheel and created pure magic. It was sickening. Bowl after bowl he turned out, like he had done this for years. The second class he showed up with a "stamp" to stamp the bottom of his work, as opposed to my sweet little sloppy signature, "Amy." His stamp had a image of a tree and said (quite boldly, I might add), "Tom, the Potter." Pew. Resentment aside, he came off as a rather grumpy fellow, disgruntled after years and years of child-rearing and putting off pursuing his passions. But after six weeks together he was smiling more, laughing a little, and sharing bits of his life with us. I think "Tom, the Potter" found his calling and it did his heart, and personality, much good.

The woman I connected with the most was Carol. She is a nurse that recently moved to this area and has always wanted to try pottery. She has a great smile and struggled with the whole pottery thing as much as I did. Together we worked to center our pieces: coning up, centering down. Now the problem with coning is that when one "cones up" the clay tends to look a lot like a male body part...the male body part. While others were quickly shaping the "cone" in their hands and then pushing the "cone" down to center the clay on the wheel, she and I flailed along forming big ole' penises out of clay. I'll admit, there was some giggling and stifled laughter. So, of course, I liked Carol.

My instructor was young, pregnant, and serious about pottery. She is a creative entity all her own, introverted and focused. Her hands are so controlled, strong and still I told her I would let her do surgery on me (she was a little appalled, I think). What she creates is pure poetry and I don't even think she sees it. She was born to create, born to throw pottery, and to see someone do what they were created to do is quite simply a sight to see.

My first time at the wheel, I was giddy. Splashing water everywhere, I threw a small little bowl and pretty much yelled out in delight. I'm pretty sure I said something like, "Look at us! We're throwing pottery!" I know I told everyone that when they leave class and think, "That Amy-girl, she sure doesn't get out much," they are right. I don't get out much and I've always wanted to do pottery so I was a little over-excited. (I was actually just excited but considering the present company it came off as over-excited with a tad of crazy thrown in.)

I could tell you how much I enjoyed setting up my wheel, using the water and my hands to form something beautiful and unique, the way the clay feels, how resistant it can be to change and form and how time and time again my instructor would say, "Don't let the clay manhandle you." It was at times difficult, exhilarating, frustrating, peaceful. What I will tell you is that every person who came into class or into the lab was creating. They longed for some way to express themselves and they appreciated things like color, form, and shape. We all wanted to take a block of clay and make something beautiful and call it our own. Every person appreciated beauty - from the potter who had been practicing for years to the new student whose misshapen bowl was something to be awed-over and celebrated.

My pottery class is over and, as much as I would like to continue, this just isn't the season to be signing up for another six week class. But that's okay. I did something I've always wanted to do and I'm pretty sure there will be a day when I'll once again sign up for Beginner's Pottery. Until that day, I'll enjoy my little misshapen pottery pieces and feel a little giddy when I dip my chip in my handmade salsa bowl.

my valentine

2011-02-14T13:44:00.007-07:00

I'm quite happy to report that I have had the same Valentine for nineteen years now. And that this same Valentine still rocks my world in the same way he and I rocked our pegged pant legs all those years ago.

Wishing you all a very sweet Valentine's Day today. (And by "sweet" I mean I hope you feel loved and I hope you eat lots of chocolate.)

i'll take it...

2011-02-03T11:06:00.009-07:00

Thanks to my friend, Tanya, this song has been on constant repeat both at home and in my car (it would drive my sister c-r-a-z-y). It grew on me so you have to be sure to give it a chance. What I love, love about this song is the way it begins with something like a confessional, then moves to a prayer, and then to this amazing response of God's care and goodness (something I am desiring to know more of this year). You must really crank up the volume at the end: I open my arms wide and every time I tear up as I sing/yell, "You take the weight from my shoulders, my hands were clenched and now they're open, I'll take your goodness poured from the sky." Goodness poured from the sky, people! This song is my mantra for this year. (And any song that has this kind of line: can you undo me...enough to heal me, well, that's my kind of song.)

http://music.theblackthornproject.com/track/too-proud

Too Proud

The Blackthorn Project

I’m too proud to ask

too broke to eat

too weak to bow

too strong to bleed

can you sing over me…words of comfort

can you satisfy me…sweet honey

can break through me...with your strong hands

can you undo me…enough to heal me

you take the weight from my shoulders

my hands were clenched now they’re open

I’ll take your goodness poured from the sky

food from the ravens

water from the dry well

year of pleasure

2011-01-28T10:20:00.006-07:00

I have been a stay-at-home-mom for over six years now. And it has been a true gift to be able to spend so much precious (precious!) time with my girls. I wouldn't trade it for anything. But there has been, shall we say, a real sense of predictably to it all. Schedules have been maintained around the clock, meals and snacks have been prepared religiously, timeouts have been given. And then there are the playdates, storytimes, doctor's visits, trips to the park...all scheduled to semi-perfection (which means we are back home for naptime and/or bedtime). It is easy for one's self to get a little lost by all the demands. It is easy for one's self to get overshadowed by all the joys and the laughter and the picture snapping and the memory-keeping as time just goes so, so fast and they change so rapidly.

I entered into this new year hoping to recapture pleasure. I realized that I had forgotten what I really enjoyed doing before I had children. Of course, I do "remember" those things, but I do not live as if I do. It has been too easy to just go to bed early, use the free time for ballet lessons or swimming lessons, or turn on the TV. But this isn't living with pleasure and I do believe that if I invest in a few small, do-able things that bring me (just me) joy, then I will be teaching my daughter's more valuable lessons than either dance or swimming can provide.

All this sounded good, maybe even great, and I was just beginning to think it may even be possible now that the girls are a bit older. And then Justin announced he'd signed me up for a beginning pottery class. I have always wanted to take a pottery class and here was a perfect opportunity to fulfill this dream. But it's three hours in the evening! And it's once a week for six weeks! And it's a class - do you have any idea how long it has been since I have taken a class? And what if I'm annoyed by my classmates (meaning they are young, hip and cool)? And what if I suck at it? And what if Justin's fantasy of acting out the pottery scene in Ghost doesn't come to fruition? What then, I ask? What then?

The pottery class was harder to say yes to than I would have ever envisioned. I think this was, in part, because I am always caring for and tending to everyone else in my family...and there is always so much to do. But a lot of it can wait, at least for one day. It is also good for my family to see, not only that they can survive without me, but that I value my time, my gifts, my dreams. And to show my daughter's that not only do they love me, but I love me too.

keeping advent

2010-12-15T12:41:00.004-07:00

This poem has helped me keep advent alive this year (thanks, Amanda). I keep returning to it to refocus and to center my much distracted, forgetful heart.

Mary's Song (by Luci Shaw)

Blue homespun and the bend of my breast
keep warm this small hot naked star
fallen to my arms. (Rest . . .
you who have had so far to come.)
Now nearness satisfies
the body of God sweetly. Quiet he lies
whose vigor hurled a universe. He sleeps
whose eyelids have not closed before.

His breath (so slight it seems
no breath at all) once ruffled the dark deeps
to sprout a world. Charmed by doves’ voices,
the whisper of straw, he dreams,
hearing no music from his other spheres.
Breath, mouth, ears, eyes
he is curtailed who overflowed all skies,
all years. Older than eternity, now he
is new. Now native to earth as I am, nailed
to my poor planet, caught
that I might be free, blind in my womb
to know my darkness ended,
brought to this birth for me to be new-born,
and for him to see me mended,
I must see him torn.

all dressed up

2010-11-04T17:44:00.003-06:00

Here are some pics of the girls in their Halloween costumes and, just for fun, I threw in a pic of the girls with their adorable cousin, Sylvia:

untitled

2010-10-11T11:38:00.006-06:00

On July 17th Justin and I celebrated our twelve year anniversary. He started not feeling well over that weekend and a week later we were in the emergency room. What started out as needing to be hydrated, ended up with Justin having a catheter put in beside his heart to drain out a quart of fluid and admitting him to the ICU. He was in the ICU for four days. Most of this is still a mystery - the cause, the effect. A virus seems to be the culprit for what happened then and what is happening now. He is feeling better, but not well. He is still sick.

I have some truly amazing stories about how God met us in the ICU. And I am so grateful, really I am. But something happened to me during all of this. I have been made to face the God of My Worst Fears. The God who allows people to get sick, children to get cancer, husbands to die. Most of it goes back to the goodness of God. To that basic question it looks like I will be wrestling with my whole life: Do I trust Him?

The first night Justin was in the ICU, I walked into our bedroom alone (visiting hours are much more restrictive in the ICU, even for spouses). I closed the door behind me and was met with an unbearable silence. The silence of Justin gone. Words can't adequately describe that night, but it included little sleep, endless tears, desperate prayers, and a lot of phone calls to the ICU nurse. When I think back to that night, to the days and nights since, as we continue to have tests done, as I watch him trying to will himself back to the person he was before all of this, as I try to will myself to be positive, to be kind, to be hopeful, I feel God asking the question in all it's terrifying glory: Do you trust Me?

And through the anguish I whisper yes, knowing in my heart the answer is closer to no.

holy s$@#...kindergarten

2010-08-09T13:25:00.005-06:00

I have, as of today, survived three whole days of my oldest daughter in kindergarten. In the public school system. Three hours, five days a week. Away from me. I have written before about the "bittersweetness" of motherhood and I was so very aware of that last Thursday as we walked her to school and watched her go (yes, I cried the entire walk home). I could feel the heavy ache in my heart as I was more than aware that this was another of those "letting go" times of parenthood. A major one. That the ties that keep us bound so tightly together were again loosening and stretching. Stretching to make room for a teacher (Mrs. Pepper - great name, huh?), for friends, for a life away from home and away from me. I know how good it is, how healthy...but something deep in me just wants to protect her from everything and keep her all to myself and somehow magically stop her from growing up so damn fast. But I can't and I won't. Instead we will continue the walk to and from school, with her big 'ole backpack and her head held high. And I'll let her go a little bit at a time, keeping the secret that no matter how far she goes, I'll always carry a part of her with me.

curves

2010-07-10T11:40:00.002-06:00

I am sometimes just a little bit irritated at the double standard in swimwear for men and women. Why is it that men get to be covered up and women are expected to have teeny-tiny triangles covering their boobs and walk around in, basically, panties? I was venting all this, once again, to my husband and he gently said something like, "Well, men wouldn't look near as good walking around in bikinis...they don't even look all that great in speedos. Your body, a woman's body, is simply more beautiful."

And it got me thinking. First of all, he's right. There is a reason the female form has been worshipped, adored, painted, sculpted all these hundreds upon hundreds of years. It is...we are something beautiful, intoxicating, breathtaking to behold.

Secondly, I am not talking about our culture's standard of beauty here, people. I am talking about the female form as a real, live woman. This means with curves, poochy tummy, wrinkles, cellulite, stretch marks, wide hips, narrow hips, breasts, barely breasts...I mean it all. I am talking about the imperfect female form that tells the story of where we've been, who we are, how we live, who we love.

And so this summer I have decided to wear my swimsuit proudly (as best I can) and embrace the things that make me an imperfect, yet beautiful, woman. And, fellow females, I hope you will too. I hope you will put on your swimsuits and walk with your head high, regardless of shape or size. For the love, we are all so freaking beautiful in our own way just by being a woman. And by illuminating the uniqueness each of us carries inside. We owe it to the world to not hide what we've got, to give off a little more confidence, and to re-teach our culture, and our daughters, the true definition of beauty.

welcome to my home

2010-06-30T14:16:00.012-06:00

Welcome to My House
Some homes try to hide the fact that children shelter there,
Ours boasts of it quite openly, the signs are everywhere,
For smears are on the windows, little smudges on the door, I should apologize I guess for toys spread on the floor,
But I sat down with the children and we played and laughed and read, And if the windows do not shine, their eyes will shine instead,
And when at times I'm forced to choose the one job or the other, I want to be a housewife, but first I'll be a mother.

I grew up with this poem hanging on our kitchen (well, my Mom's kitchen) wall. I know now that this is something she lived by. I never gave it much thought until I became a mother myself. And let me just say that I don't particulary want to be a "housewife" and that I am basically burnt out on all things domestic related. But I do believe in making a house a home and having a spot on this earth that one can rest and simply be. And I am learning how to balance that all out. Learning how to live with the mess, with the chaos, and creative disasters, and to see that as an important part of making a home, especially a home with children. This was something my Mom did beautifully and I would be wise to follow in her footsteps.

the baby turns 3

2010-06-01T21:09:00.005-06:00

Lily turned three at the end of May. Hard to believe the youngest is now three, although she's every bit a three-year-old. Lily knows how to push our buttons and throw the most passionate tempter tantrums. Laughter comes easily to her and she is naturally funny. She can arch one eyebrow, loves to wear ponytails, and perfers to be carried. It's hard to believe so much personality and spunk can fit in such a petite little body. And just when things seem to be at their worst, she'll give me a tight squeeze and say, "Mommy, you're the best girl I ever seen." That's our 'lil Lil.

easter dancing

2010-04-04T13:46:00.003-06:00

Well, this is it. Today is the day. Everything I believe in and hope in and have faith in rests on this day. We read this from the girls' Bible this morning:

The angel asked them, "What are you doing here? This is a tomb and tombs are for dead people." The women couldn't speak. "Jesus isn't dead anymore!" he said. "He's alive again!" And their hearts leapt. And then the angel laughed with such gladness that they felt, for a moment, as if they had woken from a nightmare.

I love the line: the angel laughed with such gladness. And today I want to laugh and shout and sing and dance and celebrate. This evening in church I wish we could push back the chairs to the walls and all dance and sing like crazy people (a good, inviting crazy, naturally). We may not do that, but we will be handing out sticks with ribbons attached for the kiddos to dance and wave their little ribbons around. Hopefully, I can talk somebody into handing one over to me...I can't imagine I'll be able to let all the kids do the dancing.

Happy Easter, my friends. He is risen!!

how he loves us

2010-04-02T14:35:00.005-06:00

For those of you who are as out of the loop as I seem to be, incredibly, it's Good Friday. My church does a service in the evening full of imagery and experience in hopes to bring us closer to the reality, the gravity of the Cross.

I spent much of yesterday dreading going there. Dreading sitting with the darkness, the bleakness of all Christ endured. Last year, unlike ever before, I felt called to be there, to sit in my sin, my shame, my guilt...and I did. This year I am not in that same place and I felt confused and disconnected.

Then I heard this: What would it look like for me to enter into the service tonight with a desire to know in deeper, truer ways that I am loved? Loved. To grasp in even a small, tiny way that this, above all else, is the reason for the cross – more than my guilt, my shame, my sin, God loves me and wanted to save me from sin and death. That each insult, each blow, each nail was bore out of love for His lost sons and daughters.

For me, I am feeling called to sit with the incredible truth that I am God’s beloved. I am Christ’s beloved. As I enter into the story of the cross tonight, I hope to know more than any other time in my life, that I am loved by my Father, by Jesus, and by the Holy Spirit. And that truth is more important, more powerful, more beautiful, and more real than everything else.

happy spring

2010-03-21T10:24:00.006-06:00

I have been waiting and waiting for Spring. And it came, along with a huge helping of snow. But in true Colorado fashion sunshine came the day after and we enjoyed what will hopefully (please, dear God!) be our last big snowstorm. (Yes, fellow Coloradans, I know it's a long shot but spring is about hoping, isn't it?)

why i drink coffee

2010-03-03T14:20:00.001-07:00

Amelia, darling girl, was up at 4:45. AM. Four forty-five in the AM is not even morning, people, it is night. Somewhere in the late, late night. I tried every trick I knew but once the girl is up, she is up. And I mean robe and slippers on, breakfast-ready, with a very bright and expectant look on her little face. That is so not me. Even at, say, 8:00AM that is so not me.

Lily followed around 5:50 and the chorus of the Pet Shop Boys "What Have I Done to Deserve This" kept rolling around in my foggy brain. I stumbled down the stairs, handed them each some kind of breakfast bar (at least I hope it was a breakfast bar), stuck in a DVD, and went back to bed. I have to laugh out loud at times when I am mediating fights, changing diapers, and answering questions all from the comfort of my own bed. I definitely would not call it sleep, but it really does count as something to at least be in a lying down position (my fellow moms know what I mean). And I make it last as long as I possibly can.

So what, you ask, gets me out of bed? Simple: coffee. My beautiful coffee mug full of hot, creamered-up coffee. Something about hugging my hands around the mug, smelling the aroma, sipping the liquid gold...well, I can wake up and there are times I can even make out a little person, a friendly garden gnome type, reflection shimmering in my coffee, giving me the thumbs up and mouthing something like: it's going to be okay, it's going to be okay, you can so do this.

It did turn out to be one of the longest days of my life but I made it through, we all did. And I will tell you this: some day when my girls are teenagers I will not complain about them sleeping, I will not wake them up, not on the weekends you can be sure. I will thank my lucky stars they are finally sleeping in and I'll roll over and go back to sleep. Either that or I'll get up, sneak downstairs, and have my fabulous cup of coffee (along with my imaginary little gnome).

sweet forgiveness

2010-02-20T10:03:00.009-07:00

Lent is here once again. Although the calendar says Lent officially began Wednesday, it seems as though God wanted me to begin this Lenten season Monday night.

On that night the small group I am in talked about forgiveness. Well, not just talked about…we did forgiveness, or at the least moved towards it. I had been trying to hold out as long as possible, but there it was: the call to forgive. You see, we are trying desperately to believe that we are loved by God, that we, each one of us, are His beloved daughters. This is not easy. And along this journey it is imperative for us to see how big the gap is between us and God - how great the divide. To know that out of love for us He sent His Son to bridge the distance, to die our death so we may live. And it seems important to try and understand that we are all on a level playing field, even with those who hurt us so deeply, who have treated us unfairly, who have not loved us well. This is not easy either.

We each took a long piece of paper. And then we wrote the names of those whom we felt God was asking us to forgive (or even move one inch towards forgiving). We then wrapped the paper around a rock. This rock represented the burden we carry with us: the rock itself was cold, hard, dead. Then, my friends, we got brave. And we shared what sad, burdened stories came out of the names written on the paper.

Soon it was time to choose. We could give up our rocks. We could stand together and actually say the words, "I forgive you...." or maybe, "I want to forgive you...." We could lay down the burden we carry and pick up something else: a vase of flowers. Flowers that represent, for us, openness, beauty, growth, fragrance, life.

So that is what some of us did. Others had to continue to carry their rock. (One thing I know for sure is that true forgiveness can take loads and loads of time.) Some of us wanted to chuck the rock as far as we could and say "go to hell!" to terrible things that have happened to us, to the unfairness of it all, to ways we have held on too long to pain and death. Some of us were a little scared to let go of the rock because life has worked so long living out of that small place. Some of us breathed a sigh of relief as we gently laid the burden down.

Myself? I looked at my rock, holding the names of some I love so dearly. And, through tears, I named those whom I forgave. (Okay, one whom I am working on forgiving.) And I did feel lighter and I felt, and still feel, something that seemed like a mix of freedom and more space for love. I was a little surprised, to be honest.

But in the end, some things, for me, are easier to let go of. Other hurts are so deep that I have come to believe forgiveness is a process, a continual decision to forgive, to let go again and again...to love.

As we enter into Lent it all seems connected to me in a crazy way I cannot begin to articulate and really understand. My sin and my unforgiveness laid at the Cross with everyone else’s – even those who have hurt me so deeply. Sometimes this helps, sometimes it does not. But Monday night I chose life and I’ll choose it again today and hopefully tomorrow…as we journey closer and closer to the Cross. And I have to believe that is a start.

valentine's day

2010-02-14T09:47:00.005-07:00

So I just have to share Justin's Valentine's Day gift for me. I. Love. It. Somewhere around 18 years ago (18!) our families went on a camping trip by Redfish Lake. Near our camp sight, Justin spent many hours carving our initials into a big, beautiful tree. That is what this gift reminds me of. (And he gets major bonus points for ordering off etsy.com.) Happy Valentine's Day!

hope (part 1)

2010-01-27T18:00:00.001-07:00

These feel like dark days. Maybe January is partly to blame - it has been cold and cloudy and all that ugly brown that seems to latch on to any joy left over from Christmas. And in the midst of the dreariness hard things are happening: friends are struggling in their marriages, another friend is lost and alone, my Mom, hundreds of miles away, is having trouble with her heart, a mom in Amelia's preschool class miscarried twins, and a friend's (in my dear women's small group) mother died two nights ago. And there's more.

I don't expect things to get much better. And I'm not being a pessimist here...this is life. Life in a fallen world where nothing is as it was created to be. True, there is beauty, joy, love in the midst of all of it. But how much time we spend pretending things are better than they really are. Pretending we don't need God or a Father or a Savior.

I've been known to be a skeptic now and then. It is not my favorite place to be. I think, for me, it is a place born of pride and doubt and it manifests itself in some ugly, lonely ways. So here I am in the middle of things wondering where God, our Father, is in the midst of all of it. And something is different.

This time around I can feel it and I believe...God is here.

a new year

2010-01-04T10:09:00.003-07:00

celebrate (vb) - to rejoice in or have special festivities to mark a happy day

This past year I have felt bogged down by life. I am tired. Tired from getting up in the dark with my children, making little meals throughout the day, refereeing arguments, wiping snotty noses, cleaning and re-cleaning my house. Tired seems to be my state of being. And it overflows into all aspects of my life and I seem to be weighted down in ways I, perhaps, ought not to be.

I am, by nature, a celebrator. I was raised by a mom who made a big deal out of holidays, birthdays, report cards, you name it. It's in my blood to celebrate both the big and the little. But celebrating usually requires energy and effort and possibly a little planning...all things I have been lacking as of late.

Done. Forget the lack of energy and the lame excuses. As of now, I am reclaiming my love of celebrating. And I will find big and small ways to celebrate both the extraordinary and the mundane. I'm going to believe that God will give me a different kind of energy to invest in my family more, my friends more, to celebrate with others all the things (so many!) that are worth celebrating.

Since becoming more scheduled is a hope for this year, (yes, I know it is truly a horrible goal, but necessary I'm afraid) I'm already a few steps ahead. This month, we are going to take the girls to a hotel (heated pool/movies in bed) to celebrate in the midst of a long, terribly cold winter. And I splurged and bought Nutella at the store today. I plan to use it in very near future to mark a happy day.

To be honest, as I write this, my heart is heavy. And I feel as though I have a lot to be sad about. But I don't want to live in that place. I want to rejoice through it all and, being as time goes so darn quickly, I want to look back and know I saw the joy in the midst of everything and celebrated the hell out of it.

merry christmas

2009-12-24T15:57:00.004-07:00

Wishing you a very Merry Christmas.

advent

2009-12-03T19:10:00.003-07:00

I had the privilege to teach at our church Sunday evening. And when I say "teach" I mean preach, as in, behind the pulpit. This was a big deal for me for so many reasons and I must say I really loved sharing my heart with my church family. They are so gracious and kind and good. Here is a little of what I shared:

As we enter into this advent season: What is it that we are waiting for? Presents, food, time with family, time off of work? Or is it something bigger. Something wilder, something new. What if we would stop. Stop and hear Mary’s story. Or if we could look through Mary’s eyes and really see. Can you hear it? The stillness of snow falling, really listening to the words of O Holy Night, wishing a stranger Merry Christmas with a knowing look in your eye. Can you see it? It’s in the beauty of our snow-dusted mountains, in the simplicity of nativity scenes, the joy and delight of our children, even in the stars on top of so many decorated trees. It is in the person ringing the Salvation Army bell in the freezing cold, it’s in sacrificing some so that others have something, it’s looking people in the eye and telling them you love them or that you are listening or that you care. Advent is taking time, a precious gift, to stop and soak in what everything is pointing towards, whether you are one who believes it or not.

Can you hear it? Can you see?

Christ is coming.

snow (and lots of it)

2009-10-30T16:09:00.005-06:00

It snowed for two days. Looked like this:

And apparently this is only October.

i get by...

2009-10-07T14:26:00.006-06:00

I wish I could say that things are oh-so-much-better. But I have a small little feeling that I just may be in for a bit of a desert season, a dry riverbed, the misty lowlands…you get the idea.

God is still distant. Words like faith and hope seems dim in my memory. It feels like I am not even sure how to use them anymore. Even love, the one thing I could sometimes hold onto...even love has felt foggy and my heart seems unsure. It is hard to pin down what I really believe.

I do know that some things have helped. It has helped, and felt most significant, to know I am not alone (and neither are you, by the way). The comments left on my last post made me realize I am not the only one feeling this way. Thank you for those. (And, Molly, you may be crazy, but I believe you are the good crazy, like me.) And I was, and am, being cared for by phone calls, heartfelt messages, e-mails, pockets of meaningful conversations, and some real, live cards. “Thank you” feels too small to say, but it’s really all I've got.

It has helped to say “yes” to people who want to help me. To be honest about where I am even when I know some only want to hear that things are getting better. It has helped to be honest with God, even though it looks ugly and feels ugly. To bear my soul in the only way I know how even when the answer (or non-answer) is silence.

It has not helped to get so angry and frustrated at my children. Or to expect Justin to read my mind and act accordingly. I have found that it really does not help to say the f-word over and over in my head, although sometimes I’m still on the fence about that one. And I think I’m done with feeling sorry for myself…pretty sure I’m done, at least.

It has undeniably helped to rely on my friends. To believe it when one says she thinks that what I am experiencing is a deepening of my faith. To hang on to the words of another who shared this quote: “In the dark night of the soul, bright flows the river of God.” And she believes it to be true, whether I can feel it or not. It has helped to believe that I am known and that I am loved. To believe there are friends far and near who understand, who want to be here for me, who care.

I am only reading good fiction, Anne Lamott, and Robert Benson these days. Another set of loyal friends in dire times. Anne wrote this: “Faith is not about how we feel; it is about how we live.” There is something true and hopeful in this that I haven’t even begun to figure out yet…but to hold on to it, to repeat it as a mantra for my little life, it’s about all I can do right now.

If you resonate with any of this, or with the last post, or somewhere in between, I sincerely hope you are being cared for in even the smallest of ways, that you feel even a tiny bit known and loved in the midst of all the doubt, craziness, and uncertainty. I hope God meets you right where you are, meets me right where I am. In the meantime, I guess I will do what another friend suggested: wait for it.

the misty lowland

2009-09-21T08:58:00.003-06:00

I'm not going to lie, things have felt rough lately. Words like disconnected, confused, apathetic, weary, come to mind. Parenting has been especially challenging and this challenge really hasn't been the best thing to ever happen to my marriage. And I'm sad about my parents' divorce and all its terrible consequences. I feel lonely and a little trapped and a little scared. And in the midst of it all God feels, well, distant...hundreds of miles away distant. And I just can't muster up the strength, the desire to do anything about it. Then I think that He's God...can't He do something? Will He? I don't know. All I do know is that I want to want Him. I want to desire Him again and trust and believe. But today all I can do is read this prayer and hope that it enough:

O God, I have tasted Thy goodness and it has both satisfied me and made me thirsty for more. I am painfully conscious of my need for further grace. I am ashamed of my lack of desire. O God, the Triune God, I want to want Thee; I long to be filled with longing; I thirst to be made more thirsty still. Show me Thy glory, I pray Thee, so that I may know Thee indeed. Begin in mercy a new work of love within me. Say to my soul, "Rise up my love, my fair one; come away." Then give me grace to rise and follow Thee up from this misty lowland where I have wandered so long. (A.W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God)

asking for it

2009-08-29T13:27:00.004-06:00

One hot summer day I decided to take a break from the sprinkler and let the girls use a real, live garden hose gun. It looked quite ridiculous - tiny little Lil' holding on to the hose with all her might, spraying a huge fountain full of water:

That was when I decided to get a little bit closer, camera and all. I snapped the following picture and saw her brilliant look of realization and pure joy spread across her face. Simultaneously, something deep within me yelled, "Too close! Too close!"

It doesn't take a lot of imagination to guess what happened next. I got completely and utterly soaked and she followed me all the way across the lawn screaming with laughter and, if I remember correctly, something that sounded a little like sweet revenge. Once I talked her down, all three of us looked at me dripping from head to toe, and almost peed our pants we laughed so hard. It was most definitely worth it.

gratitude

2009-08-14T10:00:00.002-06:00

On August 1st I turned thirty-three. Part of my birthday present was to have some time all to myself and it was in this precious space that the word came to me: gratitude.

As I sat with myself, some chocolate, and my journal, I decided to not spend a lot time reflecting on the past (although I so loved 32) and not on the future (and the promises and worries it holds). I decided to reflect on today. The day I was fortunate enough to turn another year older, another year of life, and to think about what the time and space of here and now looks like for me. Here is some of what I wrote:

I am grateful for my body. My arms and legs, my eyes, nose, ears - not perfect, but they serve me oh so well. And I'm thankful for the "pooch" and stretch marks today - that life grew inside of me and that I gave birth to two (two!) healthy, beautiful, sprightly girls. This is something I do not, under any circumstances, take for granted.

I'm grateful for my family. For the love they give, the grace they bestow me, the beauty they see in me. I'm thankful for friends both far and near. For being loved by so many and truly known and accepted by a precious few.

I have true gratitude for my home. For her beauty and space, her safety and solidness. For all she holds so well. I'm grateful we live in Colorado and that I can see the mountains every single day. And the sunshine. And the sidewalks.

I'm thankful for my sister and that she lives so near to me. For my Mom. And for my Dad. They love me and I know they will be thinking of me on this day. I'm grateful that through it all, I still miss them and that I still wish we were all closer.

I am grateful for a Redeemer. For a Father who is making all things new and who holds all I hold (too tightly) in His hands. I am grateful for mercy. And grace.

Gratitude seems like a good word to begin this year of 33. As a dear friend said in her birthday card to me: my cup is full. Today, on my birthday, my cup is full. And I am grateful.

long days of summer

2009-08-07T10:11:00.000-06:00

Welcome back, me! I must say I have most thoroughly enjoyed this summer. It has been filled with great family, great friends, great memories. And so, I give you, a (long) recap and a slideshow (my first!) of our summer.

Although technically spring, our little Lily turned two on May 23rd. We celebrated in Estes Park with our dear family: my sister, Matt and Syl and Matt's parents. And we spent the morning walking around Lily Lake. Lily continues to be full of energy and life, driving us crazy with that strong will of hers, and making us laugh and laugh with her quirky and wonderful sense of humor.

We had a visit from Justin's younger brother, Uncle Bradlee, and celebrated our little niece, Sylvia, turning one. Amelia went to her first Rockies game with Justin and her friend Abby and we watched the Boulder Ballet Company perform at our park during a downpour. We planted flowers, watched my beloved hydrangeas come back to life and bloom, played dress up, tried to feed baby ducks, and had a cul-de-sac summer party.

We drove to Winter Park to visit our dear friends, Loren, Amanda, Hope and Bella, while they were on assignment with Young Life at Crooked Creek. (Friends, swimming, and the mountains - does it really get any better?)

We celebrated the 4th with family and friends and Amelia had her very first swimming lessons. And she passed the class. My Mom came out for her summer visit and Justin and I actually got away to the mountains for three whole nights to celebrate our ten year anniversary before we hit year 11 on the 17th. Needless to say, it was glorious. Glorious.

We then were blessed to have our beloved friends from Charlottesville, VA, Winn, Miska, Wyatt and Seth, out for four whole days. We hadn't been together as families since we moved from South Carolina and so it was something like a homecoming to all be together again.

At the end of July my cousin, Aric, and his family came to stay with us, along with a visit from another cousin and his family from Nebraska. We laughed a lot and Aric took some great pictures. His wife, Gabriele, is German and we had a full-on German meal, music and made an attempt at the language. It was great fun.

With August came my birthday and I'll post more about that later. I can't believe how fast 32 went...yet here I am: thirty-three with a two-year-old and a soon to be five-year-old.

So that's the summer recap for me. Here's hoping that with the next post I won't be recapping the fall...

a tribute

2009-06-26T19:59:00.003-06:00

Say what you will, but Michael Jackson did know how to make music. And I have, like, some pretty awesome memories of listening to him. My all-time favorite song of his is The Way You Make Me Feel. The girls and I listened (and danced - tell me, how can you not?) to it all morning. And I still crank up Man in the Mirror every single time I hear it. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised that I am sad today. But I am. And it felt just plain wrong to not give my own small tribute to the King of Pop.

permission slip

2009-05-27T13:42:00.000-06:00

Amelia asks me what I want to be when I grow up, and I'm pretty sure I know the answer, but the more I obsess about that, the more frustrated and impatient I become at where I am now: a stay-at-home mom with two beautiful and fast-growing girls. So I decided the other day to give myself a sort of permission slip. This "permission slip" states that I give myself permission to continue to dream and desire. Permission to know what it is I feel God calling me to do, and to continue to make steps (albeit small) towards that calling. But even more, I give myself permission to enjoy and live today. To do what God has put right in front of me and to be passionate, truly passionate, about being a mom, loving those around me, being here...right now. I give myself permission to stop being jealous when someone else is (my silly interpretation here) living my dream or having some perceived greater impact or just doing things better than I feel like I'm doing. I don't want to live someone else's life, I want to live mine, and I want to live it in freedom and in joy and truth. And I know, I know, that someday soon I will give anything to see those little bodies running in the backyard, to hear their voices filling our home, to feel them crawl into bed with me in the wee hours of the morning. I know I will continue to struggle, to feel trapped at times, to be frustrated, but I know that already I feel lighter and a new sense of freedom: freedom from the expectations I have put on myself and freedom in believing God has me right where He wants me. And I'll keep reminding myself over and over until I finally get it.

the great getaway

2009-05-14T08:44:00.005-06:00

We took a spur-of-the-moment family vacation to our favorite spot: San Clemente, California. It pretty much consisted of the ocean, the pool, eating and sleeping. All things I dearly love. I wouldn't exactly say we caught up on sleep or that Justin and I got a lot of time alone, but more importantly we did rest, we made some precious memories, and we laughed and played together. Hopefully it goes without saying, but I really do love my little family.

and now, I'm over it

2009-04-18T09:25:00.005-06:00

It has now been snowing and snowing for over 24 hours. Wet, heavy, dangerous snow that threatens to break all the tree branches and ruins all the budding daffodils and tulips. As of this morning, our streets have not been plowed so I'm pretty sure we are snowed in. The positive is everyone on our street is out shoveling and talking and helping each other and I'm sure all the kids will be playing together later this morning. Our neighbors even called us over last night for drinks and our first Wii experience (I beat Justin in bowling, not that it matters). There is something about a big snow that brings a neighborhood together. The negative is that I feel claustrophobic, the girls are already fighting, and we were supposed to be headed this very moment to visit some dear friends for the day. Not to mention it's the end of April and it was 70 degrees last week. So...disregard my last post. The snow? I am so over it.

Just when you thought it was safe...

2009-03-26T09:28:00.005-06:00

...to keep out the t-shirts and shorts, here comes the snow. We are under a "winter storm warning" until 6AM tomorrow morning and supposed to get 10-15 inches of snow when it's all said and done. Luckily, we have hot coffee, DVDs for the girls, yummy snacks and best of all, Nana (my mom). The girls have already been out in their pj's trying to catch the enormous snowflakes on their tongues. Everyone is talking about what a pain it is and how it messes up everything and I nod my head in pseudo-sympathy...secretly, I love it.

happy, happy spring

2009-03-20T14:02:00.002-06:00

lightening it up

2009-03-13T10:13:00.002-06:00

My sister (ever the environmentalist) showed me this a couple of weeks ago. Here's to creating a better world for our children:

a holy lent

2009-03-03T14:00:00.005-07:00

We have entered into the season of Lent. I love the purpose of Lent and what it is preparing my heart for: Easter. Forty days to think about all the sh*t in my life and how screwed up I am and how desperately I need, as my friend Winn Collier writes, a "long redemption."

I meet with an amazing group of women from my church every other Monday night. Last Monday we talked about Lent, what it meant for each of us, what it could look like to participate in the Lenten season as a community, as sisters in Christ. It struck me during our meeting that the next forty days could look very different if we chose to enter into each other's lives in intentional and authentic ways. Even more, coming together as a church family on that glorious Easter Sunday...well that celebration could be altogether holy as we journey to the Cross together.

This season of Lent has allowed me to enter more deeply into the lives of those around me. I have been convicted of how much time I waste either wanting to escape or needing a so-called break. And how this use of my time has kept me from investing time in myself and basically all of my other relationships. Because of Lent I have chosen to offer up more time to God to use however He desires and to connect with others around me in deeper ways. It has reminded me that I do want to know the every day things of those close to me, but even more, I want to know what God is doing in their lives, what things are, as Miska says, stirring in their soul.

I have limited the time I spend e-mailing and checking (and re-checking) e-mail during this forty days. Yesterday there was this e-mail in my inbox:

Sorry to have missed you at church last night. How is your Lent experience so far?? For me it is exciting. I am beginning to see repentance as a hopeful thing vs a thing of feeling shame and guilt that I am imperfect or messed up or need God again. I just keep repenting and praying to be able to live in a new way. And I just keep declaring that this redemption in me has to be through Jesus and the Holy Spirit...not my own efforts or striving. And I keep asking myself, do I believe Jesus' resurrection is enough for me and my broken, trapped, sinful parts. And the truth is, it is! I still am experiencing worry, sadness/discouragement, loneliness...but when it happens, I seek to simply come back to my need for God and allow need to be a good thing, not a weakness. Sometimes I can fight the heaviness off with the truth of God's word but when I can't I just ask God to come and love me and help me live in the way he created me to live and at some point he brings me a breath of fresh air until the next round of darkness.

That's it, I thought as I read her e-mail: longing for redemption, seeking freedom in Christ, and returning again and again and again. And having the courage and desire to share these scary, honest, and hopeful places with those who journey alongside. As I prayed for my friend, it occurred to me that perhaps it is in this kind of sacred community that we can truly be changed.

May yours be a blessed and holy Lent.

all in a day's work

2009-02-17T16:23:00.002-07:00

Oh yeah, I'm crafty.

what she said

2009-02-02T08:49:00.002-07:00

"Being human can be so dispiriting. It is a real stretch for me a lot of the time."
~from Grace (eventually) by Anne Lamott

God in a Pretzel

2009-01-23T07:59:00.008-07:00

I don't have a lot of pictures on the walls of my home...yet. We have been living here for almost two years now and still a lot of wall space is empty. And the thing is we have so many (too many) great photos to frame. So, it was this realization that gave me the energy to go shopping yesterday. I went shopping yesterday with Lily. After two minutes in the first frame store it suddenly became incredibly apparent why I do not go shopping (and why the house remains photo-less). Lily was bucking in her stroller like a little wild stallion, crying and yelling, and trying to grab at everything. My first thought was why the hell did we decide to wean her from her pacifier during the daytime and then my second thought was the secret stash of suckers in the diaper bag. (Mind you, I had already exhausted the fruit snacks on the five minute drive from home.) Well, that little toddler grabbed the sucker and basically chucked it down the aisle, started crying in earnest, and I knew then what every mother who has experienced something like this knows deep in her heart: 1) I am screwed and 2) If I stay here any longer I am going to start crying along with my daughter. Holding back the tears, I left.

So I collect myself in the car, turn on some obnoxious children's music for Lily, and muster up the courage to go to yet another store. This time I decide to carry her instead of attempting the stroller...and off we go. Naturally, this store doesn't have anything I am looking for and the prices are all hidden and stuff is piled everywhere and I feel the panic rising inside. Suddenly, a warm feeling comes over me and I wonder if God has decided to warm the cockles of my heart while I am shopping. Ah, no. Lily's diaper leaked out and that would be urine warming me through my pee-soaked shirt. Lovely.

I courageously/insanely decide to make one more stop before heading home. By this time, my nerves are shot, I'm starting to get a headache and I need a serious caffeine fix. I dash into World Market to make an exchange, plop Lily into the cart and fly down the aisle trying to find my replacement teacup. Naturally, Lily starts crying and bucking, it's official now, we are so d-o-n-e. I hear a little voice off to the side ask, "Why is that baby crying, Mommy?" and suddenly there is another cart beside me. A kind looking woman stops and smiles and then asks me if my daughter would like a pretzel. Through the chaos I must have managed somehow to communicate the word "yes." She opens up the brand new tub they are buying and hands Lily a big, salty, chewy pretzel. And suddenly...peace. For the first time that morning Lily is quiet and content and I am able to actually look around at this wonderful store and make my exchange without feeling totally out of control and crazy. The woman smiles warmly at me and comments how she has three more at home, including a set of twins. All I could manage to say to her was this: bless you. And, oh, how I meant it.

Those of us who have had moments like these during the craziest times know what this simple act feels like. It feels like grace. The day didn't get all that much better and I felt like a basket case for the rest of the afternoon, but in that small moment I felt calm and cared for. And, so then, there it was: God in a pretzel.

The Age of Parenting

2009-01-13T10:36:00.003-07:00

One thing I know for sure about having kids is this: they age you. There is no doubt about it. If you want to age, and age rapidly, have children.

I know I wasn't aging anywhere fast when Justin and I decided to start a family. I was a young-faced beauty, full of hope, desire, with a bright and youthful future. (Now, of course, I know what I really was: well rested and relatively sane.) It took less than one year after Amelia was born for me to get gray hair. Seriously, gray hair and girl number two worsened the matter exponentially. I am going gray and I most definitely blame that on having children. I also get "checked out" a lot less than I used to. I am still unsure as to whether that has to do with my aging, haggard face or the knock-off Ugg's with sweatpants, while toting two fairly dirty children...it's a toss up either way.

This is one of those deep, dark secrets nobody tells you about before kids, along with there is no such thing as sleeping through the night, winter is basically a season of runny noses and sickness, and three is even worse than the terrible two's. But what are you supposed to say? Yes, have children, lots of them and then prepare to get old. And fast.

I'm sure, scientifically speaking, the aging process slows down somewhere around the time they turn five or six years old and maybe one can recover some of the youth that was lost in the toddler/preschool years, but just when you're gaining ground it happens: they become teenagers. That is when I pretty much plan on kissing whatever is left of my youth goodbye.

Of course, it is heartbreakingly worth it. Most of the lines on my face come from smiling and laughing so much. It is worth it, without a doubt. But the next time you wonder how your mom got old so fast, remember this: she had you.

A New Year

2009-01-07T17:35:00.000-07:00

For some reason, I have been especially struck by the newness of this year. Maybe as I grow older, as I settle into myself more, I am becoming more aware of the things I want to leave behind. Things I want to leave back in 2008 and not carry with me into this new year of '09. Things like expectations (both mine and others), guilt, fear, cynicism, excuses. The list could go on but those are some of the things that pop right into my mind. I do not want to enter into this new year burdened and weighed down...I want to be full of things like hope and love and joy and freedom. Words that have become overused and jaded but that is part of why I am leaving my cynicism behind. I am still trying to figure out what this year will be for me...I have a feeling it is going to be the Year of Joy. My pastor spoke about living in grateful joy. I like that. The Year of (Grateful) Joy. Sounds ambitious, right? I am not entirely sure. It does feel like I am setting myself up for something awful but I think that is just the fear talking. Joy is one of those fruits of the spirit I have been missing out on and I am tired of that. I long for joy and I think it is all around me, I have just been too tired or too cynical or just had too many excuses to reach out and grab it. So here I go, into the Year of (Grateful) Joy and I wonder: what are you hoping this year will be for you?

Christmas/Happy New Year

2008-12-29T13:40:00.007-07:00

It was a very peaceful Christmas. All four of us stayed in our Christmas jammies/pajama pants all day long, which makes for a great day. And we got to be with family and the beautiful chaos of it all felt very Christmas-y. Hope you had a very merry Christmas and best wishes to you and yours for the New Year. (And I had to throw in a picture of my neice, Sylvie, because she looked the cutest this Christmas.)

The Feeling of Winter

2008-12-16T09:37:00.008-07:00

“I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape - the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show.” Andrew Wyeth

Winter begins today. On this day, I welcome it. It has felt like winter since the end of November and the snow and chill in the air whisper that Christmas is coming and something important is about to happen. Check back with me in the middle of February or the beginning of March when there is slushy, dirty snow and when the green is just a distant memory and all is brown and gray.

Winter can be a very hard, lonely season. Defining moments in my life, life-changing events have mostly occured during winter seasons or have ushered in a new and sometimes heartbreaking winter season of life (regardless of the actual calender date). But it is during these times, it seems, that God has done His most important, careful, loving work. Slowly, usually painfully, uprooting parts of my life that need to go, that need to die with the cold and death winter brings. And then...and then one waits in the bleakness of winter. Waits for hope, for replanting, for life, for spring. Only part of the story is showing as winter lingers on. Something bigger, much bigger, is happening underneath: new life. Spring does come or it will, and with it a greater appreciation, or maybe even reverence, of winter.

And so when February is here and the deadness of winter has really set in, I hope to remember all that is happening underneath. All I cannot see but know is there. And I hope to remember that I am just a small part of this larger Story and that spring is just around the corner.

Bye Bye Birdie

2008-12-15T13:29:00.005-07:00

For lack of a better post, a story I will share. A couple of weeks ago we decorated the Christmas tree. This is a big deal in our home: putting up the tree, listening to Christmas music, setting up the nativities, getting Papa John's for dinner. While Justin and Lily were out picking up the pizza, I opened the front door to set something on the porch. Suddenly there was a bustle of bird wings and two birds flew out into the night sky and one flew right into my house. I screamed, Amelia screamed and then screamed-cried, and then I laughed so hard I almost started crying. Now I love birds. I do. I have become quite the little bird watcher and bird collector but this house finch (see!) was not the kind of bird-decor I've been going for. I tried everything from blanket-throwing to birdseed trailing out the door. Nothing worked. Finally Justin came home and we were able to trap the little fella between the door and he squeezed himself through the open crack and outside. I was so relieved he didn't kill himself or that we didn't have to kill him and that the only evidence of his short-lived time in our home was several little feathers on the table and a tiny little drop of poop on the entry wood floor (nice shot, little bird!). So that's my story. And here's our bird:

i heart colorado snow

2008-12-01T12:47:00.008-07:00

Friday night it started snowing and it didn't really let up until yesterday. Big, soft, fluffy flakes that make you want to stay inside with something warm, cuddle up by the fire, and just watch magic happen. I love when it's not "supposed" to dump snow and then suddenly here it is. And today the sun is out and everything looks bright and sparkly. And then there's the snowman-building, snowangel-making and warm baths and cocoa. Okay, okay...you get the picture...I love Colorado.

Me and Miska

2008-11-14T13:57:00.005-07:00

I flew to Charlottesville, VA to visit my friend, Miska, and her family. I loved the new city they are now living in and the funky vibe it has. It just seems to fit them. Even more, I loved spending time with my beloved friend and rediscovering a piece of me that had been missing. I found a card during my visit that said: We all let people into our lives, but you will find that really good friends let you into your own. That pretty much sums up my time with her and why I'm so bummed it's over.

Attention Book Lovers!

2008-10-28T19:14:00.006-06:00

Our good friend, Winn, just released his third book, Holy Curiosity. Now, for those who do not know, he is the "Winn" of Winn and Miska, the wonderful friends we lived by for a year in good ole' South Carolina. I, for one, can't wait to read his newest book.

What is the book about, you ask? In his own words Winn writes: "So, I rummaged around 9 of Jesus' questions (for example: Who Condemns You?, Why Are You Afraid?, My God, Why Have You Abandoned Me?, Are You Confused?, What Do You Want?) and tried to hear them fresh, wondering what those questions would look like in my context, in my story. Where would these questions take me? How would I hear them, and what would I do with them?"

If this interests you at all, or if you are looking for a book to stir your soul, or want to hear some great words from a fellow sojourner, or a great Christmas present for friends, or just want to buy a book that you can say, "Hey, a friend of a friend wrote this," then I encourage you to buy from amazon today. It's a great price and something very, very much worth reading and investing your time/life in. And now for the shout out: Way to go, Winn!!

And finally...Part 3 of 3

2008-10-18T16:53:00.011-06:00

The last of our trip was spent near Boise with my Mom. We were pretty worn out by this time and so it was wonderful to be spoiled by my Mom in all sorts of great ways: cooking, letting us sleep in, constantly entertaining the little ones, me taking long showers, going to movies. I soak up every bit of it.

We also got to spend some wonderful time with my Mom's family. It was great to share memories together and to just be around some loving maternal women. The older I get the more I appreciate the wisdom of my Mom and my Aunts, listening to their stories, soaking up not only the words but the ways in which they talk, laugh, tear up and cook all at the same time. It is inspiring. I also got to spend time with my beautiful cousin Molly, who lives in Seattle, and meet her newest member: smiling Delia. We had a lot of fun together and I left wishing we could meet up like this more often.

Just like that our time was over and it was back to Colorado. And now I will forewarn you: this blog entry is about to get ugly. Very ugly. The night before the big day of traveling Lily decided to party like it was 1999 until 2AM. That's two o'clock in the morning people. What you do with a one-year-old after midnight is beyond me, especially when you are not at home. It was a nightmare. Naturally, the next day Lily was as chipper and easygoing as ever (note the sarcasm here). We drove three hours to Salt Lake and then waited. Lucky for us the airport had a little play area that was just oozing germs and crawling with bacteria. There Justin and I sat with glazed-over eyes, desperately clutching our pumpkin-spice lattes, trying to stay awake and geared up for the big flight all at the same time. Another wonderful thing besides the germs, was that everyone flying anywhere passed us by. We got all sorts of great looks: the sympathetic look from parents or grandparents, the oh-how-sweet look from some, and the infamous I-wouldn't-be-caught-dead-in-that-germ-infested-hell-hole from so many others (they were mostly skinny people dressed in black). Fun times. But it doesn't end there...we finally boarded the plane and became the family you do not want to sit behind. Or in front of. Or anywhere near the vicinity. And did I mention the flight was right over nap time? And would my sleep-deprived, exhausted children sleep? The poor people sitting in front of us either got kicked in the back or an earful of Lily's heartwarming scream. And both girls were covered in sucker-sugar-goo along with a dusting of bright orange from the Cheetos. It was brutal, I tell you, brutal. As we finally climbed into our car and the Rocky Mountains welcomed us home, naturally, the girls both fell asleep. Immediately. Justin and I, well, we need a vacation.

my own private idaho (part 2 of 3)

2008-10-17T14:24:00.007-06:00

We spent the second part of our week in Idaho with Justin's family. We enjoyed our time hanging out with Justin's parents and especially introducing Lily to Justin's brothers, Dirk and Bradlee (she adored them). And regardless of how much time has passed, Amelia immediately remembers and embraces her uncles. They definitely have a way with her and I know the love she has for her Daddy spills over to his brothers. We also had a big party with some of our favorite people - Justin's cousins. It is always so great to connect with them and hear stories of the past (especially camping trips) and watch all our kids play together.

During our short stay we also did a couple of surprise visits: one to our "old" youth pastors, Chard and Carrie, and one to a longtime friend I went to high school with, Stacey. I loved seeing the looks on their faces as they came to the door and saw me: surprise! And it was great to reconnect with them face to face and hear all that is happening in their lives.

Lastly, I made the difficult journey to two cemeteries to visit the graves of my grandparents. I had not done this since my grandmother's were buried two years ago. How surreal it was standing there seeing both their names etched in cement, firmly planted above the caskets, containing what was left of their earthly bodies. We in America like to hide our cemeteries. We intentionally put them in hard-to-see places, we don't want to be reminded of the fragility of life, the end that is waiting for all of us. Standing there in the quiet I thought about death and I thought about life. Specifically my grandparent's lives. So many stories, countless experiences, immeasurable conversations, loving, losing, living, dying...and all of it ended with a gravestone. I know it doesn't really all end there, but I felt the fleetingness of it all. And I mourned the fact that my daughters will not know my grandparents here on this earth and that I will never see them again here. It felt heavy and very, very sad. I do so miss them. Justin said there should be some sort of book with pictures attached to their gravestone so that others can know who they were and how they lived. And it makes one wonder what their own life-book would look like, the words used to describe how one lived. I guess it has something to do with legacy and what we leave behind.

I had intended to visit the cemeteries all alone. To have the time and space to bawl my eyes out and really give into the grief I carry. This was not to be. Justin pulled right to the spots where my grandparents are buried (which it meant to much to me that he remembered, of course he did) and kept the girls occupied while I said my hellos and goodbyes. And as I turned back through the tears, I saw my family, my daughters, and I knew then I need not worry about what significant things I will be leaving behind me.

my own private idaho (part 1 of 3)

2008-10-11T15:45:00.009-06:00

Justin and I are both from Idaho. And this was our first trip back to the Gem State as a family of four - catching up with family and friends, and showin' off the kids. Now Justin and I are not big fans of the flying. I fly only because I love to travel. I would travel all over the world if I could, even if it meant I had to fly there. But we get big knots in our stomachs as we see the planes descending and taking off all around DIA. Yes, it's a bit of a fear thing. So as we were approaching the airport I hear a little voice from the back of the car singing, "We're going to fly up in the air! We're going to fly to see Jesus!! I can't wait to fly and meet Jesus! We're going to see Jeee-sus!!" Sweet, but unnerving. I had to gently explain that we probably wouldn't be seeing Jesus in the sky that morning and that flying doesn't necessarily mean we'll also be meeting our Savior. I also had to gently pray to God that while I would love to see Jesus face to face, I wasn't quite ready. Not just yet.

Well, we didn't see Jesus in the sky, but we did make it safely to Idaho. We spent the first days there at my Dad's. We rode horses and Amelia rode a horse for the first time and loved it. I loved watching her, hoping this was just the beginning of a love of horses for her. My Dad took her riding with him on a four-wheeler and I had a little lump in my throat as I watched her long, brown hair flying back, looking just like me with my Dad so many, many years ago. Lily spent most of her time playing in the dirt and terrorizing the miniature poodle named Boo. And I rode a real, live motorcycle for the first time. I started out almost driving into an electric fence, recovered and rode like a bad-ass, then practically ended up in a ditch, but it was good while it lasted. We really enjoyed being out on the farm, hanging out with our family, the open space, big sky and the quiet. I also laughed a lot with my Dad. And that was good.

We had a party with my Dad's side of the family and that was good too. I still find it hard to believe that I, along with my first cousins, are the 30 and 40-year-olds in the crowd with the young kiddos running around. When did that happen exactly? And something wonderful I took away from our time in Idaho was wine from my Aunt. The best. Ever. St. Chapelle: soft chenin blanc to be exact. Made in Idaho. Go figure.

It was short, but sweet and great memories and I get excited thinking about the girls going back to visit the farm again. And that is an even better thing to bring back with me.

And here comes fall...

2008-09-23T11:05:00.000-06:00

Seasons have once again changed. As we are saying goodbye to the long, hot days of summer and hello to the cooler, colorful days of autumn, I am grateful for these things:

Amelia is, more often than not, sleeping until 6:30AM
Our filled-with-life women's group at church
Old friends...and new ones
Having renewed, strong "in-love" feelings for my (hot) husband
Cool breezes on sunny days
Funny conversations with an even funnier Amelia
Hearing Lily laugh and having her interested in Baby Einstein for 5 min.
The aspens getting all golden - quite a sight in Colorado
Hand-me-down clothes for the girls
Accidentally finding the perfect pair of shoes
Having to turn the heat on inside the house and the furnace-running smell
Lily's little voice saying, "Mom-mee"

And so much more. In both the mundane and extraordinary (see top of the list), I must, must say, I am grateful to God for all these things, for new seasons, and for the arrival of fall.

Read This

2008-09-08T08:13:00.000-06:00

I have been wrestling with a lot of things lately. One has been interpreting scripture. It's a heavy thing, at least it has been feeling that way to me. I would write more, but my friend Winn writes a lot better. So read this.

Letting Go

2008-09-04T09:26:00.000-06:00

Today is Amelia's first day of preschool. As I drove back home in, what felt like, an ocean of tears (for the love!), I remembered two things Miska has told me: 1) She and I will not go lightly through this life. 2) "This is motherhood, I thought, love and loss bound so tightly together, it is impossible to separate them. I felt her pull away before I was ready to let her go."

Ode to a Ballerina

2008-08-26T08:43:00.001-06:00

Amelia is now four and she loves ballet. I'm not sure where this passion came from, neither Justin nor I are huge ballet aficionados, but Amelia, well, she loves to dance. She "ballets" down the center of Nordstrom's as we head into the mall (we specifically use this entrance because they have an actual pianist playing a grand piano), she leaps and pirouettes to the music overhead at the grocery store, and she dances with great passion and abandon during our family worship gatherings (down the center aisle, no less). As my friend Amanda posted months ago, I wish I could bottle up this confidence and passion that she so freely exhibits and spill it out for her later when life gets hard(er), when other kids may look strangely at her for doing something so passionately, for all she'll come up against just for living connected to her heart. One great thing I've noticed from all this ballet craziness is my desire to really listen, love and know my children. Maybe Justin would have picked a great love of basketball for her, or I would envision her practicing away on a violin...but here she is, her own unique, amazing self, loving ballet and dreaming of the day she can wear "toe shoes" and be a real, live ballerina. So instead of nudging (or pushing) her into something else, we see her and she'll start ballet lessons in September. If I do only a couple of things right as a parent, one I hope for is this: to see my daughters and, in the seeing, to love them...just as they are.

Communion 101

2008-08-12T19:56:00.000-06:00

Overheard after church on Sunday:

Amelia: "Look Jude, here is the wine and this is the juice..... And this (pointing to the bread), this is where they break your body."

32 and lovin' it

2008-08-03T11:24:00.000-06:00

I turned 32 on August 1st and I'm pretty darn happy about it. One silly reason is that I love even numbers and I am particularly fond of the number 2. "32" just has this great ring to it and feels like it fits me. So I sang with my family, "Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, I'm 32 and I'm cu-ute, happy birthday to me." Well, they didn't really sing that part, but I was happy to improvise my own little version all by myself...it was my day after all. I have decided, with great joy, to be 32 for a full year and proudly declare to anyone who asks my age, "Why, I'm 32, don't I look fabulous?" Okay, maybe not the "don't I look fabulous part" (although I mostly do), but I will say my age with gusto and without hesitation.

I had a great morning with my Mom and my sweet little family and then a wonderful, relaxing afternoon with my hubby and was greatly spoiled by a night away together. We sat out on a patio for dinner and then watched a breath-taking sunset over the Rocky Mountains. (It felt a little like God was going all out for my big day - I think He was excited about the 32 thing as well.) Then we meandered through little shops while eating our ice cream. Those who know me know it doesn't get much better than that for me.

I'm really enjoying my 30's so far. Anne Lamott wrote: "Age has given me what I was looking for my entire life - it gave me me. It provided the time and experience and failures and triumphs and friends who helped me step into the shape that had been waiting for me all my life. I fit into me now - mostly." I can feel that I am fitting more into the shape God designed for me. I know I am still on the road to "fitting into me now" but I can feel as I age that I am changing...that I am becoming more myself. I can also sense that I am becoming less aware of myself and more aware of those around me. I think age can do that for us if we let it, if we embrace it and all the experiences life/God gives us as the years tick by. I hope this year that I am so much more aware of those in need around me. That I am a faithful friend, especially to those closest to me. That I love my two daughters and husband well and pour life into them. That I do some great things for the our dear earth (I have already sworn off plastic bags -yeah!) and that I fear less and love more. (I SO should have been a hippie - man, that would have been great.) And all this to say what's so great about age is, as Anne says, "it's not that I think less of myself, but that I think of myself less often. And that feels like heaven to me."

I Did and I Still Do

2008-07-18T15:01:00.000-06:00

As of yesterday, I have been married to one Justin R. Walker for ten whole years. I wonder how that is quite possible as I still feel relatively young and we are still quite relatively "in love." I know how difficult marriage is and can be. My parents divorced soon after I graduated from high school. Translation: I take marriage very, very seriously. And so does he. I think about how young we were ten years ago. How we made these outrageous vows not knowing the road that was ahead, but knowing with all of our hearts we'd be traveling that road together. United, as one. I was old enough in my heart that day to know we wouldn't always feel in love, to know that possibly someone or something would one day catch our eyes and we would have to choose again each other, to know that life would not work according to our "plans", that I would possibly wake up one morning and feel trapped or very much alone. But I also knew that bigger than all of those things was the story of marriage. The importance of vows. Sickness and health. Life and death. Redemption. And that the beauty of marriage is that it deepens over time. You think the whole courting/romance stage is the high point, the wedding, the celebration...but it's not. It is the lower then lows when you hold each other close in the night, it is looking my worst and him seeing me underneath it all, it is choosing to love again and again when this world says to give up, it is remembering the most life-giving, precious times as husband and wife and looking forward to a beautiful future with that same man, my soul mate, by my side. The beauty of marriage is that after ten years I can honestly say that I would walk down that aisle all over again and marry that fresh-faced, bright blue-eyed boy looking all excited and nervous in his black tuxedo. In fact, I would sprint down the aisle to get this whole adventure kick-started. And now that I have a whole ten years of marriage under my belt, I believe I can quite honestly say that being married rocks my world. (Happy 10th Anniversary, Justin, my love. This one is for you.)

Our Beach Vacation

2008-06-28T14:22:00.000-06:00

We went to Southern California for a little over a week to housesit for some friends of ours who pretty much live on the beach. Even with the perils of traveling and vacationing with little ones, what it truly ended up being was a precious, precious time with just our little family. After all, they are only 3 and 1 once...it just won't ever be the same again.

Some highlights include:
* Amelia calling the bird of paradise flower "bird of asparagus"

* Driving through the night there and back - sounds about as fun as it was and only made possible with a little can of somethin' called "Rock Star"

* In-N-Out (if you don't know what this means I truly feel sorry for you)

* Lily discovering birds for the first time - she was deliriously happy

* Beach combing every evening as the sun set on the water - I looked for shells, Amelia looked for "stinky feathers"

* Reuniting with our very first neighbors (and great friends) back in the Morrison days, Nate and Charity, and spending time with them and their two wonderful kids, Salem and Soleil

* Starting out white and ending up a wonderful tan

* Amelia getting to eat those little variety boxes of sugar cereal every morning for breakfast (her favorite? "colored cheerios"/fruit loops

And just because their little bodies are so cute in swimming suits:

happy father's day

2008-06-15T21:22:00.000-06:00

Happy Father's Day to my husband (and to all you great dad's out there). When I married Justin I knew he was going to be a great daddy...I just had no idea he was going to be such an amazing father. And on this day I thank God for "making him mine - and then for making him ours."

I know what I'll be doing on my birthday....

2008-06-07T09:48:00.000-06:00

It is official. The second X-files movie (The X-files: I Want to Believe) will be coming out on July 25th. Yes, my friends, for my birthday I will be giddily watching Mulder and Scully hashing it out with aliens, (hopefully) making out heavily, and you can be sure I'll be applauding this one when the credits role. Think I'm crazy? Check out the trailers here. (And that is my poster hanging up in the garage...I am that kind of a fan.)

"and the goodbye makes the journey harder still"

2008-06-04T07:39:00.000-06:00

If today was an ordinary Wednesday I would be making some yummy breakfast treats and a few extra cups of coffee would be brewing in the coffeemaker. I would be glancing outside every once in a while waiting for my friend's car to turn down the street and pull into the driveway. But today is no ordinary day because on Monday my dear doing-life-together friend, Mary, moved with her family to Montana. And although I haven’t quite yet come to grips with this reality, I feel it deep in my heart: lonely. And I guess that it is okay, because evidently things like this happen a lot in life and it reminds me how much I love my friends and how much I need something or Someone other than my friends (or my husband) to fill that lonely space. But, boy, do I still feel it and I still miss her terribly and I still wish she had not gone.

I already miss Mary's listening heart and the way she always asks wonderful thought-provoking questions, remembering even the smallest details of stories. I miss how we laugh one second and tear up the next over big and not-so-big things. I miss how she gets me, how she accepts the over dramatic, crazy things I do and say and even loves me for it. I miss how much she loves and likes my daughters and says life-giving, loving words to them. I miss how she makes herself at home here and how she knows where the glasses and silverware are. I miss doing this hard, crazy, beautiful life with her. The list goes on and on...and I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by the big, wide gap she has left. And I know she feels it too, perhaps even more so, and that breaks my heart as I have experienced some of what she is now going through: going "home" knowing that home is now hundreds of miles away. As we were praying for Mary and her family, Amelia prayed for God to "please put Mary's heart back together." So that is my constant prayer for my friend.

Now I'm left with the question of opening my heart again, do I risk letting someone in? Do I dare hope there is another doing-life-together friend out there with whom I can connect deeply? I do know the answer, I do, but for now, I’m just going to sit and imagine that Mary is going to walk through my door.

I'm an Auntie!

2008-05-31T17:07:00.001-06:00

My sister had a baby Wednesday. Yes, it is hard to believe but true: my little sister is a Mommy and I'm an Auntie. Her name is Sylvia Grace and she is beautiful. One of the best parts for me was the unexpected gift of being able to see her come into this world and the joy of holding her, loving on her and giving her back to her parents. I think I'm going to rock this Auntie gig.

Lily Faith Turns One

2008-05-24T08:00:00.000-06:00

The "baby" of our family turned one yesterday. It has been bittersweet for me at times, knowing this is probably our last child and the first year went so quickly, as it always does. But I also love, love, love this age and every day holds a mini-adventure as Lily discovers new things and develops and changes so quickly. Lily turning one also means we've been living in our home for over a year and it feels so good to look around and see all the memories this house already holds and how we have made it very much our home. And the backyard is full of new baby-green colors, flowers, birds singing, and the roses are getting ready to bloom: spring. We named Lily for the season we were coming out of last year and the one that God was faithfully leading us into. The beginning of Song of Songs 2 says: "I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys. Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the maidens." The name Lily represents for us Song of Songs chapter 2, specifically verses 11-12: "See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come..." With Lily came a season of singing, a picture of God's faithfulness and healing in a time of grieving and sorrow. Lily has brought us so much joy and laughter from the day she came home and smiled her first knowing, sparkly-eyed smile: she belonged with us, to us. We love you sweet Lily, happy birthday...to you.

Little Movie We Watched

2008-05-06T12:57:00.000-06:00

Justin and I rented Lars and the Real Girl and it was really good. It is a great picture of loneliness, compassion, community and acceptance (there are also some really funny parts). It leads me to wonder just how many people there are out there like Lars: lonely, isolated, desperate and dying inside. And what it would look like to be in relationship with someone like that. Anyway, I suggest you watch it and if you don't like it, don't tell me...I really don't want to know.

One of my Favorite Things

2008-04-26T07:36:00.000-06:00

This is one of my very favorite pictures of Amelia, taken almost two years ago near Charleston.

Freely, Freely

2008-04-16T15:23:00.001-06:00

A lot has been going on lately. A lot. During the last couple of weeks we have had very so-sad news (more on that later), both sides of the family staying with us, and been terribly, awfully sick, and this really just for starters. We have been put through the ringer, to be sure. Somewhere in all of this I began wrestling with some old friends of mine: restlessness and doubt. (Ah, they are but faithful friends.) I believe once I put my roots down here and realized I was truly "home" the questions began plaguing me: is this really where I belong? Is it "God's will" that we are here? Shouldn't I be on the mission field somewhere or on the streets ministering to the sick and poor? After I cleared away the cobwebs, I realized those weren't really the questions. The questions are more like: Do I trust God? And can He really use me right here, right now? And after thinking through these questions with Justin, I realized we are on a mission field. I have the Light in the darkness and it is pretty dang dark where I am living. So we have just begun thinking through what is means to live a missional life here in the suburbs of America. And we have some fellow sojourners, which feels good. And our church is seeking out ways to do this, to live this, and how to offer Christ to those who seem to have just about everything. And that feels good too.

We have made some simple changes, opened our eyes and hearts, and it's been amazing already how God has met us. We're continuing to talk through what this looks like, what it means to live, really live, in community with others, to ask questions, to really love on people not with an agenda, but with acceptance and grace. To listen, to really listen to what others are saying. To pray with devotion, intention, and anticipation. To give, give, give, freely and passionately. And instead of feeling anxiety and doubt, I'm filled with excitement and hope. I look out my window and see great possibility. And I may be in the suburbs, but God is here too.

"whoa."

2008-03-29T07:26:00.001-06:00

This is totally random but it has disturbed me so deeply I feel the need to share. My sister is in a professor-ship at CU and she was talking to her sophomore/junior class about examples of archetypal dystopias (don't ask, I have no idea). She was commenting that a classic example of this is the movie The Matrix. The students in her class did not understand this comparison because it turns out they have never seen The Matrix. The Matrix!! The majority of her students were all of ten years old when The Matrix came out and they didn't see it. Ever. Follow the white rabbit, red pill vs. blue pill, Trinity/Neo, "Dodge this"....they don't get it. So, I'm still trying to wrap my mind around this one. And yes, my friends, we are this old.

Celebrating that He is Risen!

2008-03-25T16:33:00.000-06:00

Oh, happy Spring!

2008-03-20T07:57:00.001-06:00

And Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
~Percy Bysshe Shelley, "The Sensitive Plant"

A Real, Live Retreat

2008-03-13T13:39:00.000-06:00

I went on a retreat this weekend. Typically the idea of a retreat does not bring up the most warm and cuddly feelings inside of me. In my little life, I have been on some really terrible retreats, I would call them anti-retreats. I have been on maybe one good one. This retreat was great...a real, live retreat. And now I'll tell you why:

1. The best thing about this retreat is that two of my very closest, kindred spirit friends were there: Amanda and Jessica. And we shared a room. And just so you know what kind of friends they are, they both decided to share a queen bed and give me a big, wonderful bed all to myself. They know my sleep (or lack thereof) issues and wanted to bless me. Not only that, but while we were there they watched out for me, enjoyed me, cared for me, laughed with me, danced with me, were unbelievably quiet getting ready so I could sleep in as long as I liked, and they shared a bottle of smuggled-in wine with me along with those amazing Cadbury mini-eggs. Yeah, they're pretty great.
2. There was also a three-hour period of silence on Saturday. Three hours. Total silence. For a mother of a shriek-screaming baby and an always on the go, extremely verbal, three-year-old this is, possibly, as good as it gets. Three luxurious hours of silence to listen, to sleep, to just be. I almost wept when the woman who was instructing us on those next silent three hours said something like: you can walk, you can read, you can do the stations set up for you, but sometimes the greatest form of worship is just to rest or to sleep. She got it. And I rested and listened and felt renewed.
3. We were served wonderful meals (tiramisu, croissant sandwiches, delicious brunch, etc.) and there was a coffee bar, with vanilla creamer, 24-7. Hello.
4. The Colorado mountains. Tucked away in a lodge with a big fireplace in winter and outdoor hot tub. Enough said.

How it appealed to my soul to get away and just experience some time by myself, and most importantly, time listening to the Holy Spirit. To retreat from the wonderful craziness that is my life right now and just stop. To make a place and time to meet with God. To, most hopefully, experience His love and care for me. And I was not disappointed.

I'm still processing through what I learned/heard at the retreat. And I'm a little bit grieving that my weekend there is over. The anticipation of it had gotten me through some difficult, early mornings and long, sicky days. (I have to give a "shout out" to my husband for not only taking care of the girls for two nights and days, but for doing so in a way that I never once worried about them, in fact I knew they were being loved on and enjoyed by their Daddy. Yes, they missed me, but not much. And I know that says a lot about you, Justin. So thank you.)

The word retreat means a period of seclusion, retirement, or solitude, to fall or draw back; withdraw or retire. My "drawing back time" was just what I needed, a gift from God, and I'm most happy to say, "Last weekend? I went on a retreat."

A Sofa

2008-02-28T07:23:00.000-07:00

I'm on the lookout for a new sofa. And this small endeavor has become a heck of a lot more complicated than I ever thought possible. And it is virtually impossible when you are toting around a bored-out-of-her-mind three-year-old and a fussy, snotty little baby. So I went by myself last night, after Justin came home from work, hoping desperately to find the perfect sofa, seeing in my mind the heavenly light shining down on a most comfortable, reasonably priced, easy to clean, piece of cottage-y furniture. Well. I went first to a huge furniture store that has great prices, good selection and has the warm and fuzzy feeling of a used car lot. (I refuse to name names...American Furniture Warehouse.) I spent at least 30 precious, and I mean precious, minutes seeking out a possible sofa and then another 15 sitting on it, reading about it, debating the price versus style, wondering about the color: is it more yellow-ish just because of the fabulous fluorescent lights they have going on here?, calling Justin, etc. I asked some swanky salesman if I could checkout a couple of pillows to make sure the color was what I was going for and he said something like, "Oh sure! Just talk to the manager." So off I went, with pillows in tow, to find the manager. I went to the now-ironical "help desk" and they looked at me suspiciously and said I needed to talk to the salesperson in the back. I went to the back and they told me I needed to talk to the "girls" in the front. I found the teenage-looking girls in the front and asked the million dollar question: How can I take these cheap-ass pillows home to see how they will look in my living room? Blank stares. Now, I ask you, is it crazy to assume that you can take some swatch of material home to make sure the color works before you plop down hundreds of dollars? And, by the way, this furniture store (American Furniture Warehouse) has this "We Want You Happy Before You Go Home" thing that basically means you better like your furniture when you buy it because you are stuck with it. Period. So I repeat the question as this older creepy salesman swaggers up, too close, beside me and the tiny teenager says, "Well it's a hundred dollar deposit to take the pillow." "Okay," I say, thinking: I just recently checked out 5 swatches at Macy's for $25, but hey, whatever. To which she replies, "And you have to have them back tonight." Timeout. It is now past six o'clock, Justin is holding down the fort with two tired and cranky girls, starting dinner, the traffic is terrible and I'm going to run home, look at my pillows (without the sunlight, mind you) and then bring them back along with making a $100 deposit? I don't think so. So I blurt out loudly and somewhat crazily, "Do you WANT people to buy furniture from you?" She looks at me apathetically and says, "Sorry. Those are the rules." Perhaps I should have calmly asked to speak to the ever elusive manager but I was way past sane and adult behavior by this point. I channeled Amelia and with an exasperated and frustrated yell of "UHHH!" I literally pounded my fists into the pillows on the front desk. Then I turned and stormed out.

I called Justin immediately and yelled in the parking lot how much I hated this place and drove to Macy's where I was, in comparison, treated like royalty. And they were actually helpful. Then I had to drive past American Furniture on my way home, to which I gracefully gave them the ole' middle finger. And instead of buying a new sofa I decided to buy a chocolate-cherry-love-whatever Blizzard from Dairy Queen. I ate some while I drove and also decided a Blizzard could be just as good as a new sofa. In this case, maybe even better.

"Whatcha been up to?", you ask.

2008-02-22T15:42:00.000-07:00

It was Justin's birthday on Tuesday (the big 3-1) and he took the day off. That pretty much guarantees it's going to be a good day. We went to the Downtown Aquarium and saw enough different kinds of fish and water creatures to make you never want to swim in a lake or the ocean again. Ever. And we had dinner at Beau Jo's, Justin's favorite pizza joint, with my sister and brother-in-law. And Beau Jo's had macaroni salad in the salad bar, which made me so very happy. Amelia loves to celebrate every little thing (no idea where she gets that from) and she was giddy all day. Lily had banana pancakes for the first time and that pretty much made her day (along with peas, crackers, and cheese from the salad bar).

No one has been sleeping very well. Amelia has taken to yelling out for me, and only me, at 4:30AM. Sometimes she goes back to sleep, sometimes not. It makes for a long, long, l-o-n-g morning. And you know that saying: "If momma's not happy, aint nobody happy"? Enough said.

And I have watched too many sad movies lately (Becoming Jane, Atonement). And not only are they sad, but they are desperately romantic and horribly tragic and that just ruins my whole day. I get way too caught up in these kinds of movies but it is so heart-wrenchingly worth it for me in some strange, sick way. I think I am going to have to read Pride and Prejudice again just to get swept up in something I know will end well (sorry if this is spoils the ending for someone, but you really ought to have read this book already).

Lastly, our computer is over ten years old (yes, you read that correctly) and Justin fulfilled a life-long dream of custom ordering a new computer. It was shipped today and is, as I type, en route to Colorado to my little home to my little make-shift desk to make my life (and blogging) easier and a billion times faster.

So that's what I've been up to. Now I am off to start my weekend and I do so hope you enjoy yours.

Happy Valentine's Day to you

2008-02-14T08:09:00.000-07:00

You know it's a good Valentine's Day when you have a heart-shaped mug full of yummy, hot coffee. And even better when it's snowing like crazy outside, because that means Justin gets to work from home today. Justin put it best this morning when he wrote that our Valentine's days may look a lot different than they used to but we have so much more to celebrate. I'm off to make heart-shaped pancakes (with chocolate chips). Yes, it's going to be a good day.

The Long Way Home

2008-02-11T16:06:00.000-07:00

I mentioned in my previous post that my Grandma died a year ago. Ironically, her funeral was on Valentine's Day and so I am looking forward to getting past February 14th and the whole "one year ago" thing. I feel like the past couple years in my life have been defined by grief and saying goodbye. Hard goodbyes.

We said goodbye to a long, wonderful life in Colorado. A life full of so many firsts: first married, first home, first child and a life full of so much more: a church we loved, amazing, once-in-a-lifetime friendships, a city/state we adored, my dear sister and her husband. As strong as our attachment was to Colorado, something in us felt it time to move back "home" and we decided to say goodbye to that life. It was one of the hardest things we have ever done.

We also decided to take a little detour on our way back to Idaho. So we spent a glorious year by some of our closest friends in South Carolina (the trees and flowers were nothing short of spectacular, as was my time being "neighbors" with Miska) and we made so many "first" memories there. We watched our children play together and we dreamed of a life living close. And then, before we knew it, we had dug our roots deep and it was time to go. Goodbye...goodbye.

We arrived back "home" in Idaho, sad and tired. But we were finally to the last destination and we started to settle into our new lives there. A week after we moved back (and the day before we were leaving to visit her) my Grandma died suddenly. So we began our life there with a funeral and a heavy, heavy heart. I did not get to say this goodbye and that is all I can really say about that. (Goodbye, dear Grandma Florence.) It then turned into the longest nine months of our lives as we learned a hard lesson about returning home and what "home" had now turned into. The grief is still fresh as I think about one of the hardest goodbyes I have had to say: "Goodbye, Mom. This is not what we had planned, but this is no longer home. Home is anywhere away from here. Goodbye." As we loaded up the U-Haul for the ten-billionth time (we were now proficient movers) we said goodbye to not only precious family but precious dreams, hopes, plans...and hopes for our children and a life that was no longer to be. As we crossed into Wyoming (halfway home, yeah!) we got a phone call. My Grandma Retha had died and we needed to go back to Idaho. I said this goodbye weeks before hoping it would not be the last, knowing it would. Still, my last Grandma? Goodbye? I have no idea why God bookended our time moving home to Idaho with my Grandmother's deaths. Maybe there was no real purpose in it. Maybe it was to say there is even less for you left here. Less life. More death. Maybe it was to get me the heck out of town or maybe it was to realize how short life is and if it is so short then live it where you belong, where you are free. So we did a u-turn so I could say again "goodbye" to the hardest things. Goodbye to this place, these dreams. Goodbye to my dearest Grandmother. Goodbye to my Mom. Again. Goodbye.

I breathed a whisper of a sigh "hello" to the "Welcome to Colorful Colorado" sign. And here I sit. The long way home. But not without, what feels like, paying a price. And the grief feels great and fresh. I'm still not sure what to do with it all. So I am trying to learn to live this new life and I do feel free here, I am home here, finally, and happier, and maybe even a little wiser, than before. But I also feel older, heavier, more scared, and more sad than before. I am beginning to wonder (and I could be wrong) if that is just a part of life. A big part. As we age and lose ones we dearly love and cannot live without, as we see our children grow and leave, as we experience the heartache in relationship, isn't it then we see our huge, gaping need for a Savior? For more to this life? It is for me. I need to know that life is not about the grief I am carrying. I need to know there is more to life than saying goodbye.

Grandma Retha

2008-02-09T17:23:00.000-07:00

I am sad. My beloved Grandma (and last remaining grandparent) died a year ago today. And I really miss her. She would have loved my girls...

2008-02-07T09:33:00.000-07:00

Look who I found trying to escape out the doggie door!

"Have Mercy On Us, Lord"

2008-02-06T15:39:00.000-07:00

It's Ash Wednesday today. I'm not a Catholic, but I do believe in the message of Ash Wednesday and the Litany of Penitence (http://www.missionstclare.com/english/ash/litany.html). And I loved this passage about Lent, being centered on the Spirit of God, and especially being "born into a new way of being":
Lent is about mortality and transformation. We begin the season of Lent on Ash Wednesday with the sign of the cross smeared on our foreheads with ashes as the words are spoken over us, "Dust thou art, and to dust thou wilt return." We begin this season of Lent not only reminded of our death, but also marked for death.
The Lenten journey, with its climax in Holy Week and Good Friday and Easter, is about participating in the death and resurrection of Jesus. Put somewhat abstractly, this means dying to an old identity—the identity conferred by culture, by tradition, by parents, perhaps—and being born into a new identity—an identity centered in the Spirit of God. It means dying to an old way of being, and being born into a new way of being, a way of being centered once again in God.
Put slightly more concretely, this path of death and resurrection, of radical centering in God, may mean for some of us that we need to die to specific things in our lives—perhaps to a behavior or a pattern of behavior that has become destructive or dysfunctional; perhaps to a relationship that has ended or gone bad; perhaps to an unresolved grief that needs to be let go of; perhaps to a career or job that has either been taken from us or that no longer nourishes us; or perhaps even we need to die to a deadness in our lives.
You can even die to deadness, and this dying is also oftentimes a daily rhythm in our lives—that daily occurrence that happens to some of us as we remind ourselves of the reality of God in our relationship to God; that reminder that can take us out of ourselves, lift us out of our confinement, take away our feeling of being burdened and weighed down.
That's the first focal point of a life that takes Jesus seriously: that radical centering in the Spirit of God that is at the very center of the Christian life.
—Dr. Marcus Borg from “Taking Jesus Seriously"

By the Way

2008-02-06T15:03:00.000-07:00

Mom's Day Out was a huge success. I only called to check on Amelia once (mainly to verify she was still actually there) and she loved every second of it. She even made a new friend: Chloe. I am so glad I did it, I'm going to do it again and thank you to those who provided encouragement and perspective.

Fear & Trembling

2008-01-31T07:43:00.000-07:00

Well, it's official. I am completely neurotic. I had always speculated as such, but this week it was actually confirmed that my mind is a crazy little network of, well, crazy. So out of the chaos of last week I found this wonderful church that has a program called "Mom's Day Out" on Fridays from 9-1. I had a great conversation with the director and we scheduled a visit for Monday. Amelia was thrilled about the idea of going to "school" and thanked me all morning for just the chance to visit a real, live school with kids, recess, and everything! She struggled a bit when I left her alone at recess to play, but did so great with the structured storytime and coloring and she is just aching to make some new friends. And did I mention it is from 9-1 Friday mornings? Four hours? Can you imagine the mere possibilities? So we were pretty darn excited and then...it happened. My mind started working. I came up with all these crazy scenarios and questions and worries about attachment anxiety and security protocol (or lack of) and mean kids and distracted teachers. So I called the director and asked if we could come again on Wednesday. Now I realize by this time she was painfully aware that I am one of those high-maintenance, first-time, Mom's. I tried to pretend I wasn't as controlling and overbearing as I really am, but I think she knew from the get-go. Much to her credit she was gracious, reassuring and indulged all my crazy (possibly insulting) questions. The visit was great and Amelia felt even more comfortable and settled right into the routine there. I could see the pride and confidence radiating from her little face and I knew that as much as I needed a break, she needed this time and space to grow and develop on her own. Apart from me. Alone. Out there. In the big city. In the big, bad world. That's when it really happened. I completely lost my bearings and the vision of dropping her off at whomever or whatever's mercy totally freaked me out. My trust in God was obliterated by the reminder of countless articles of kidnapped children, school and church shootings, abuse allegations. It was too much. The fear was too big and the risk was way, way too high. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach and I couldn't shake the feeling all day. I kept playing scenarios out in my head and wondering if this was the one decision that would lead to one of my worst fears coming true.

If you don't know this about me, then you should, I struggle with fear. This struggle feels something like the ocean tides, sometimes receding and calm, sometimes overpowering, deafening, strong...dangerous. I have learned enough about this fear to know that its roots go very deep. My Mom was very fearful, as was her mother, as we were both raised with a somewhat fearful-paranoid view of the world. I also know that my fear has something to do with my world being shattered the day after my Junior Prom...losing my first family. And this losing my family those many years ago has resulted in my terror of the possibility of it happening again...to my new, precious family. So, you get the idea. The neurosis runs deep.

Sidenote: We gave Amelia her name in part because one of the meanings for Amelia is "woman of valor." I love this. I have long loved the word valor and prayed for it to fall on me. It means full of courage and boldness, as in battle; bravery. The exact opposite of fear. Isn't that fabulous? So, knowing the long line of generational fear in my family, we chose "Amelia" and hoped and prayed she would and will be a woman of valor.

So here I am at what feels like a crossroads. What started out at her possibly attending a little "Mom's Day Out" program has turned into something else. Do I choose "safety" for her and me? Do I never let her out of my sight and hold on desperately with all that is in me? Choosing that path seems just as scary as the alternative, in fact, it seems more scary to me. Knowing who she would be then and the mother I would be. So I choose unleashing her for four hours into the world, in the city I know, at a church I semi-trust. And I come to the place of asking, "Do I really trust God with my children?" And all I can say right now is that I want to. I know He is good, but I know that He is not safe...and that really bothers me. But, like I said, I know the alternative is much darker, lonelier, and talk about scary.

Lily's dedication was a couple of months ago and we had both our girls with us. One of the lines we said together as parents was this: "We are giving her back to you, dear Lord, we are giving her back to you. Your Kingdom come, Your will be done, in everything that we do, we are giving her back to you." I think this may be the hardest part for me in this whole parenting business, but I know it's the more important, if not only truly important, part. And so I will let her go tomorrow...repeating those words as I watch her walk into "Mom's Day Out", wondering how she grew up so fast, and dreaming of what I will do with four whole hours.

Desperation

2008-01-24T11:38:00.000-07:00

Things have been difficult lately. Having a two-year-old was hard at times, but it still felt (mostly) manageable. There were even moments of "hey! I can do this parenting/disciplining thing" and times of quiet, rest, and even obedience. Well, let's just say everything changed when the girl turned three. Now there are moments of sheer desperation and at times I feel completely overwhelmed and unqualified. And while I truly love the eight-month-old stage and all it's wonderful brand-new moments, my sweet baby has taken to squealing. Not a cute little baby girl squeal, but an ear-piercing, migraine-rendering scream. And there's nothing much to do about that one. She is also teething...again. Together, we all make quite a threesome.

I have found some comfort knowing I am not alone. Anne Lamott writes: "...children know exactly where your nuclear button is. They may ignore you, or seem afflicted by hearing loss, or erupt in fury at you, or weep, but in any case, they're so unreasonable and capable of such meanness that you're stunned and grief-stricken about how much harder it is than you could have imagined. All you're aware of is the big windy gap between you, with your lack of anything left to give, and any solution whatsoever."

Sunday I would have ended there...I felt so drained. I had nothing left to give anyone and felt like so much is required of me. But Monday was better...and the week has been okay. I am still hanging on by a thread, but it doesn't feel like such a flimsy one. And I know I don't have to say it, but I do so love my girls and although things are crazy difficult I still feel the fleetingness of this season. And so I hug Amelia a little bit tighter before I send her over to have a timeout.

Just a Suggestion

2008-01-13T10:06:00.000-07:00

Do not get on a scale after the holidays. Really, don't do it. I finally dragged myself to the rec center last week after taking a break over the holidays. I was a little irritated to find things so much busier than before (all those people who were now resolving to start exercising again in 2008 - just stop already and give me back my normal gym!). One thing about me is that I am not a big fan of the exercise. Or the weight-lifting or anything really having to do with a gym in general. I love to walk (not jog) and bike (leisurely) and I love to swim (especially when it involves a magazine, cherry coke and a floatie). In all seriousness, my favorite part of working out is being finished with it and the satisfaction that I am on my way to a healthier, better-feeling, me. So I'm finished with my mind-numbing elliptical and my sit-ups and weights and there, all shiny and glowing in the corner, is the scale. The insane thought that perhaps after doing nothing but sitting around over the holidays, and eating yummy holiday food like fudge, breads and lil' smokies, I will still have managed to either lose a few pounds or "maintain", enters my little head (I am breastfeeding after all!). Well, I was hopelessly deceived by that tricksey little scale to which I muttered, "Happy New Year to me" and gave it a little shove.

Now my favorite part of working out (besides being over) is my wonderful reward when it is done. The thing is, God so graciously left one aerobic room empty and dark and quiet for me to spend some time at the end of each trip to the gym. I found this room the first time I went and it was incredible the feeling of entering a quiet place in the midst of so much noise and activity (my life these days). So every visit there I spend extra time stretching and relaxing, giving my body rest and reward for all the extra work it does like lifting small, but heavy, children, staying on my feet too long, bending down to pick up toys and clothes (more on that later), and supplying nourishment for a baby, just to name a few. And I get to spend time just being quiet. The walls must be extra thick because it is so still there and I stop to listen and pray and be. And I thank God that He can be found at the most unexpected places, even places I don't really like to go. Who would have thought? Peace at the rec center.

Going Live

2008-01-09T18:06:00.000-07:00

Well, here it is. My blog for all the world to see. How crazy that is to me. (And scary.) I have contemplated a blog for a while, wanting a place to keep friends and family updated on some daily stuff in my life and share my musings on life, God, parenting, marriage, little stuff like that. Primarily it's a creative outlet for me during these long winter days. (Translation: I don't get out much.) I hope you enjoy what you read and I hope you come back for more visits. And with that, I bid you welcome.

An Unexpected Visit

2008-01-09T11:44:00.000-07:00

Knocking on my door this morning was our great friend, Winn (all the way from South Carolina). He was so out of place in my little world, but so at the right place as well: a true friend wanting to visit my home. We had a great visit and it was so life-giving to me, I hope he felt as loved and enjoyed as he was and I hope the mountains and the woods give him the rest and peace he needs. He has such a great heart, true wisdom and desperately seeks God, more desperately and honestly than anyone else I know. He just published his second book, Let God, (http://www.winncollier.com/books.php) and my husband and I are starting to read it together. I think it's going to be great. The other fabulous thing about his visit is that I feel like I kind of got to see Miska and their boys...and, well, that's just about as good as it gets for me.

1 of 2 Great Gifts

2008-01-04T14:46:00.000-07:00

My husband did really good this year. He would admittedly say that he hasn't been that strong of a gift-giver the past couple Christmases (granted, we had a little bit going on, but still...). This year he came through like a champ. So I've been eyeing this tree photo holder from Pottery Barn and it finally went on clearance. It's a lot cooler than it sounds (it is from Pottery Barn, after all). One could add pictures to it's branches or I may just hang it up as is. The reason this is important to me is that trees have had great meaning in my life for a while. When my parent's decided to get a divorce there was only one book for teenagers in the Christian bookstore. I bought it and I read it. The thing I'll always remember is a story about a girl seeing her family as a tree and that the tree had been painfully uprooted. She was left looking at a great, big, black hole...a hole that had once been her whole family. A friend came alongside her and said that someday she could plant a new tree and then have a bunch of little trees shooting off beside her...the legacy of her family. I held onto this thought for a long time. And now. Now Justin and I have planted our own big, strong tree. And we have little "new-life" branches shooting off! And our roots are deep. So this "tree photo holder" means a lot to me. I'm glad it will remind me of what I have, instead of the whispers that tell me all I am missing.

A Tale of One Marriage

2007-12-19T12:54:00.000-07:00

I keep thinking about the line "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times" when it comes to my marriage these days. We have moments of such joy and laughter with our two girls and we are possibly on the biggest adventure of our lives and we are in it together. Not to mention, that half of me and half of him made these two beautiful, delightful girls. But we are also stressed out, overwhelmed, irritated and tired. Maybe exhausted would be a better word. And we are in that together. We also have this terrible temptation to drift over into who has done more of what or who has gotten to go out more...trying to somehow show the other up in misery. It wreaks havoc on a marriage and nobody ever wins. My Mom is coming out right after Christmas and I'm desperately hoping we get to go out a couple times. I hope to sit across from my husband, the love of my life (remember when that was just as much a feeling as a statement?), look into his eyes and say, "Oh...there you are. Hello again, it's me."

Christmas

2007-12-17T19:31:00.000-07:00

I was obsessively checking my e-mail the other day. Trying to have some connection (or pseudo-connection) to the outside world. I have felt primarily overwhelmed with Christmas. Shopping for people I don't really know well, not having enough money to buy what I really want for the people I do. Also the memories of Christmas' past, as good and textbook as they are, hurt. A lot. It's a bittersweet time for me. So I'm reading nothing on a computer screen and my daughter comes and sits beside me. I glance over at her and she is holding a little Bible in her hand. This surprises me. She smiles and asks, "Can you read to me about Christmas, mama?" This also surprises me. So I stop. I stop the outside world from coming in. I stop thinking about the past. I stop. I open it to Luke and read about the Savior coming to save the world. Born in a manger. Scared shepherds and tens of thousands of angels singing. Peace on earth. My daughter doesn't make it through the whole story but that didn't bother me. I made it through the story and it brought me back to what really matters.