Out Of Hibernation

I've wanted to write something. I've tried to gather my swirling thoughts into something coherent for a while now, so I could just have something, anything, to write – because it's like therapy for me – but I've been stuck in a weird place for quite some time.

Aside from giving birth again in a few months, all I've been able to think about, for the most part, is the state of the world we're living in. I go back and forth between wanting to write about current events to raise awareness about issues that are important to me and wanting to go hide in a hole somewhere so I don't have to think about any of it anymore. The latter part has been winning lately, and I often wonder if it will be what wins in the long run. Same goes for spiritual or personal topics or anything else I can think of to write about. The introvert in me is currently full force, and I'm having trouble deciding if I should fight it or not.

My kids are doing and saying the funniest things right now, and I can't even bring myself to write a fun, lighthearted post about them. I feel too bogged down by the weight of it all. But as I find myself writing this, I also find myself thinking that there have to be many others who are experiencing the same weight, the same burdens in this fallen world that humanity forces us to face. So I'm just putting it out there in case someone like me needs the reassurance that there's someone else like them out there - “Me too...I feel it too.”

Surely, we all feel it, though we may each experience it a little differently.

I have a picture of that stupid dress on my phone. You know the one – the infamous photo of a white and gold dress that's (supposedly) actually black and blue, though I'll just have to take everyone's word for it, because for the life of me, no matter how many directions in which I twist my phone or how many times I play around with the brightness, I can only see white and gold. Every time I look at the darn thing, I get so irritated that I can't see the colors for what they truly are. I don't like when my eyes won't let me see the truth. Do you see where I'm going with this?

(I'm honestly over the whole dress debacle, but it makes for a nice metaphor here.)

I wish I could see the big picture. I mean, I suppose that I can sometimes, but I guess I wish I could always see it. I recently looked back over those posts about scripture that I wrote several months ago, and I sort of thought something along the lines of, hey, there's some good insight here...who wrote this? Cause right now, it doesn't feel like it was me. I'm hoping I've just been frozen for a while and am about to experience a thaw. It is spring, after all. Finally.

At least my children have helped me get through this season. They are so great about keeping me from getting frozen too solid. We've had cuddles and milestones and firsts like lost teeth and dance parties in the living room with Daddy and hilarious dialogue, so why in the world do I ever let life stress me out?

Somehow I always end up going back to that C.S. Lewis quote I have on the About page of this blog. I can't keep my heart to myself. It just isn't what we're meant to do. So I'm sharing it with you and hoping you'll share yours too.

It is spring, and I feel the thaw coming.

The Blessing of Busyness

I killed it yesterday.

 

As in, I totally rocked it out – this stay-at-home mom thing.

 

It was an errands-completed, groceries-purchased, house-cleaned, laundry-done, kids-fed, 30-Day-Shredded (Jillian Michaels, you ain’t got nothin’ on me!), bible-studied, words-written, dinner-prepped kind of day. Whew!

 

Today? Well, let’s just say…if only every day could be like yesterday…

 

But I’m still giving myself credit because, as I’ve said before, it’s about balance. We need the busy and the still…the hurried and the relaxed…the chaos and the quiet. I think it all has its purpose. 

 

I have been learning a lot lately about the difference between doing the ‘busy’ things and doing the ‘important’ things, so I’m trying to make a conscious effort to rid myself of distractions and focus on the essential. I think I’m doing better at weeding out those activities that only serve to divert me from those with actual significance. I’ve been adding more to my plate, that’s for sure, but I’ve been adding the more meaningful stuff.

 

Busy can be good, I’ve realized. We often talk about how we all need to slow down a little more and savor our moments, but there is good to be found in the productive days as well. Busy means ‘life as normal’ – we haven’t been derailed by something awful or interrupted by illness or suffering. I have before, and I don't enjoy that kind of 'busy'. Give me the contentment of a boring ol' routine any day.

 

When I have that perspective, it makes it so much easier for me to accept how ordinary my days are.  And boy, are they so incredibly ordinary. Bill-paying, cooking-and-cleaning, errand-running ordinary. Busy, but not so busy that I lose sight of why I'm doing the work.

I’ve kept a journal for years. In looking back at all my past entries, I’ve noticed an underlying theme that has plagued my thoughts – insecurity. Am I good enough? Do I measure up? For years I have tried to overcome my struggle of feeling like I am not doing enough. But it's not about how much I'm doing. It's not even really about what I'm doing. It's about why I'm doing it.

 

I am most effective when I enjoy what I do and feel that it has purpose and significance. When I’m busy but the tasks don’t feel meaningful, all I feel is a depletion of energy. Yet when I fill my time with worthy tasks, there is a sense of accomplishment, and with that, contentment.

 

And do you know what I've discovered? Sometimes even the most menial, ordinary tasks have an incredible amount of significance.

 

Even the tiniest conversation can have an impact. Even the shortest moment can last a lifetime. A little boy gets scared, and a big sister hugs him tight and says, “Don't worry, baby boy. I will always be with you.” And then it all makes sense.

 

It's not that every day is perfect. It's not that there aren't worries and frustrations that get in the way. It's not that those insecurities never creep back in, begging me to notice them and give them the value they don't deserve.

 

It's that I'm in a sacred place of knowing I'm right where I'm supposed to be, doing just what I should be doing. My days are busy, in quite the ordinary sort of way. But there's one thing that makes them uncommonly extraordinary – I wake up each morning knowing that today matters.

 

The Passage Of Time

A mama watching video clips on the computer is like a magnet to her offspring. At the first sound of familiar little voices coming from the speakers, they drop whatever shenanigans they’re up to and come running to check out their former shenanigans. I suppose I can see the appeal – there’s not a whole lot out there that is more fun than reliving the moments of your life that were a blast.

One of our best moments

When I reviewed the video from my sister’s wedding, Hannah ran up to the computer, face practically pressed up against the screen, and flipped out with excitement. As she watched herself twirling around the dance floor at the reception, her eyes lit up. “Mama, I want to go back there! Can we go back there? Please.”

I laughed and explained to her that the wedding was over, that nobody was there anymore. Everyone had gone home.

“But I want to go back there,” she said longingly.

I know how she feels. I know that in a few short years that is exactly the place I’m going to be in – wanting to come back to right here, right now. I guess I’m glad that I’m at least aware of that, but I’m not looking forward to the moment I find myself missing what’s gone.

I’ve never been one to mourn the past, but I’ve never had it this good before.

Raising little ones is not easy, and I don’t have the greatest track record when it comes to patience, so in the midst of the ‘daily grind’ moments, I don’t always have that perspective. But it’s the hard truth – the phrase ‘they grow up too fast’ has never felt more real and raw, and that load gets heavier by the day.

I’ve had Abram in my life for nearly two years, and I know from raising Hannah that it’s about to get really different. There is so much that he does right now that will not be a part of him for long. He laughs hysterically at the faces Hannah makes at him. When you tell him he can’t have a popsicle or some other such disappointment, he says, “AW, MEH!” (Aw, man!) He begs for the Ipad so he can watch Jack and the Beanstalk. (“PYE-PYE, peeeease. BEAN-TAH!”)

He cuddles with his "bappy" in his crib. 

He is growing and changing at lightning speed. All I have to do to see that is look back at all of our captured moments. I have documented so much of our lives...hours upon hours of video, hundreds upon hundreds of photos. But it never feels like enough. It will never, ever be enough.

The things I used to find myself immersed in? The stuff that used to be so second nature to me that I could never imagine not thinking about constantly? They exist no more. It’s no surprise...I know that’s how life is, that it’s continually changing and we are creatures that are always transforming. But nothing quite smacks you in the face with it like watching your children grow up.

Though I feel blessed to have the technology to be able to take a peek back in time, taking that peek always makes me ache. You can hit pause on the video, you could rewind it over and over and watch it until you had it memorized, but you'll never have those buttons on your life. You can never go back.

I just hope that when I find myself in that place, wishing he was two years old again, I’ll be able to look around and say, “I’ve still got it so good.”

Living The Courageous Life

I have to ask myself daily what I want out of this time on earth. I would be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes long for the easy life – huge fancy house with a waterfall in the backyard, an exotic vacation every year, smooth sailing into my golden years…

 

But then what? What difference would those things truly make in the quality of life that I live?

Life these days is vastly different from the one I lived just a few short months ago. There’s the good and the bad: the family close by and the friends far away; the fat drops of rain that fall on the lush green grass and the beads of sweat dripping down my back due to our lack of funds for the luxury of air conditioning; and mostly the opportunities we could’ve missed out on and the uncertainty that comes with not knowing what’s next.

I’m sure some people look at me and my family and think we’re crazy. Brimming with hopes and plans, we gave up a secure income in an unstable economy to leap forward into a hazy future. But how does the saying go? Nothing risked, nothing gained? Nothing worth having comes easy?

The future I see ahead is amazing, but it will take time and patience to arrive there. For now the present is giving me many opportunities to get a sense of what I'm seeking and what I should be pursuing. What should that future look like, and how can I get there?

Most importantly, I think about my kids and what I would like for them to take away from their childhood experience. What memories will I give them that will matter the most?

We recently got to experience a shared memory that I hope to make a yearly event for us - youth camp. Clint and I attended it as teens, and one of our greatest desires in coming back here has been to be a part of it again, along with our little ones.

 

It's a place where kids are shown love, encouraged to live bravely, and given a message of hope in a world that sometimes seems to have far too little of that left. In my own young life it was a refuge. For one week out of the year I could be uplifted and be given the gift of remembering that my life was more than just circumstances I couldn't control, people I couldn't change, and a future I couldn't yet see.

Not every child gets to grow up in a home that's as loving as ours, and now that I have my own family, that fact weighs on me even more heavily. It’s too easy to become overwhelmed and concerned with such trivial things in this world. Instead, what can we do to lift each other's burdens?

That's why I hope I can raise my kids to want to be a part of something bigger than themselves. They will face pain and doubt, but they will know of everlasting love and unfailing kindness. I hope that, as a family, we can remember that there is value in living outside of our own little world. There's more out there than just living and dying.

Finally, although some people may find it trite, I see God’s provision in something as small as needing a dresser and 'happening upon' one for free. I see it in needing a renter for our old home and finding one just in the nick of time. I see it in friendships, in much needed conversations. It truly is that simple to find blessings, if only we want to see them.

 I say all this just as an encouragement to anyone who wonders what lies ahead in the journey. I wonder too, as I've always wondered. I've always wished I could have the superpower of seeing into the future, but the longer I live, the more I become excited about the not knowing. That's the part that makes us seek the possibilities.
 

Even The Greatest Puzzle Has A Solution

Ten years ago today I rode in the backseat of a college professor's car with some other students as we headed from the hospital back to campus. They were talking about what we'd just experienced while I sat silently, unable to speak at all. It was from the shock, mostly, but the grief wasn't too far behind.

A boy I didn't know sat in the front seat. He said he didn't believe in heaven or any sort of afterlife, but he did believe that our friend was still a part of the universe...something about his memory living on in us...I can't quite remember the words. I just remember that it made my heart ache with empty sadness and the pit in my chest grow larger.

Just minutes earlier I had stood in a circle in a hospital parking lot with dozens of other students as we held hands and prayed together. I had looked around at all these people that one person had gathered together, and though I was broken, there was still hope. It meant something. It had to.

Just a week earlier I'd spent a 26-hour bus ride to New York next to one of the greatest human beings I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. He'd let me stretch my feet across his lap as I repeatedly scrambled the Rubik's cube for him and timed his solutions. They were always under a minute.

He was like a brother, except the only time I'd ever been mad at him was once in the cafeteria when he'd thrown an egg roll at me and gotten soy sauce all over my favorite shirt. I couldn't stay mad at him for long – no one could.

And once, a long time before that, we had sat in his dorm room talking about life, and he confessed that he didn't believe he would live until old age. He'd just 'had a feeling'. I told him that was ridiculous and that one day we would call each other up and talk about our grandkids.

But that was not to be.

Charles was smart, witty, multi-talented – but most of all, loving. He understood what love was far better than most people twice his age. His life may have seemed short to so many who knew him, but he had gained far more knowledge and understanding than most people even bother to seek in this brief life we're all given. Charles looked at the universe as though it were something as simple as a mathematical equation and had a spiritual outlook full of meaning and purpose. He was unique in a way I have never known anyone else to be.

That's why it wasn't fair. I couldn't understand why, out of all the human beings on earth, it had to be him. Twenty-one years old, so much life left to live, so much more loving left to do...so much more to give.

It was a long and painful process for me to finally arrive at the realization that the answer was, why not? Life is not fair in the way that we assume it should be, as we all know by the way it slams us into a wall every now and then. In fact it would probably be for the best if the word “fair” didn't even exist in any human language. I don't know why we keep trying to mold it into what we think it should be.

Our natural tendency is to ask why, but perhaps we are simply not asking the right question.

The answers to the universe are most likely quite simple. After all, a Rubik's cube has only one solution out of 43 quintillion possible combinations – a solution that is as simple as a series of sequences. Maybe if we just knew all the rules and took it one step at a time, all these complexities would seem so easy...the solutions would be clear.

I don't have all those answers, and it often frustrates me. But I do believe that Someone does. And I do believe that Charles lives on in a much bigger way than the boy in the front seat thought he did. I believe we'll someday have the answers, and I believe that Charles is thrilled to have them now.

I believe all that because it makes no sense to be handed a Rubik's cube that's impossible to solve. The enigmas this life presents have more to offer us than confusion and surrender. When we know there is a solution, the puzzle starts to take shape.

Charles' existence meant something and means something still. We are so much more than random. We fit together in the most complex-and-yet-simple puzzle that's ever been designed.

I've seen too many people give up on the answer because they're holding onto a piece they can't quite fit into the puzzle. They've got one side of the cube solved, but the rest of it is still so jumbled up that they decide it's not even worth it, that it must be impossible.

But it is possible. It is worthy of our time and attention.

Charles taught me many things, but mostly that the answers are worth seeking. Just because I can't see the completion doesn't mean there isn't one. It just means I need to figure out the steps, fitting in the pieces as I find them and letting Love guide me along the way.

What Lies Beyond The Rain

Hands aching from my tight grip on the steering wheel, I eased up on the gas and strained to see the U-Haul I was following through the darkness and pouring rain. Several times, over the sound of Abram’s wailing, I heard my tires skid, and my hands gripped even harder. Water sloshed, lightning flashed, and I rummaged around, trying to find anything I could that might entertain the little guy for a few minutes and make the crying stop.

We’d brought along walkie talkies to communicate, but mine had died and my cell phone was beeping, as I’d not been able to find my charger at the hotel the night before. Abram’s cries were growing louder, so I dug my checkbook out of my purse and tossed it in the back seat, desperate for anything that could possibly buy me a few minutes of peace. The poor thing had had it with this journey, and so had I.

We were less than a hundred miles away from our destination, on this drive that we’d made so many times before, but the slower pace of the U-Haul coupled with the terrible weather had made this trip feel so much longer and more frustrating than ever before. And for some reason, I was scared.

I guess it was the limited communication and the thought of something happening to my precious cargo in the car seats behind me, but the last leg of this trip felt so ominous. It felt as though maybe we weren’t meant to be here. Why did it have to be so difficult? Why the bad weather? Isn’t this where we’re supposed to be going?

I prayed, out loud, voice shaking: “God, please just get us there. Help us to make it.”

Looking back, I realize how silly it seems now. It was just a storm, but my first reaction when things got tough was, “Why is this happening?” I guess I always reach for that falsity in the back of my mind – the idea that if we are doing what’s ‘right’, then life should be easy.

Silly me. Since when is life ever easy?

I know with all of my soul that we are right where we’re meant to be, especially when I see my kids loving this new place, leaping into piles of leaves and finding new treasures in the backyard. They have taken to these changes as though they’re not even changes at all, as though it’s the same life we’ve always lived.

And once again, they are teaching me.

They go with it. They go with life and all of its twists and turns, and they do it fearlessly. They trust their caretaker to meet their needs. They don’t question the changes. They don’t ask ‘why’ when there are obstacles.

Both kids have been battling some sort of awful infection for several days now, and when Abram awoke in the middle of the night with a 104 degree fever, I was scared. When Hannah’s eyes turned red and gunky and continued to get worse, I was scared.

But we got through it. And now that they’re on the mend, I realize that it was just a storm. We hit patches of bad weather all the time, and sure, they’re a little bit scary – and some are longer and scarier than others – but we always emerge on the other side, birds chirping and sunlight peeking through the clouds.

In the midst of these little rainstorms, our sunlight has been our love of being home. I can already see how this move, this tiny little adjustment we’ve made, is fine-tuning the course of our lives. How it has brought us so much more to cherish and love.

No doubt there are storms ahead, but all I can see is the joy that lies just beyond the clouds. If only I always had the eyes to see it…

The Move: Our First Big News Of 2013

When I was growing up, I never had a specific idea about what I wanted my ‘home’ to be like, or where I wanted it to be. I just knew that I wanted a family of my own and a place for us to call ours. My hopes and dreams haven’t changed much as I’ve gotten older, but they have begun to take form in a more concrete way.

As I’ve examined our lives, I’ve seen so much purpose and joy in the path we’ve been on, but I also see so much benefit to making some changes. My husband and I have recently made a choice based on a deep desire we’ve held for quite some time – we are moving back to our hometown to be closer to our families and to eventually find our little spot in the country.

Many people who have moved away from their hometowns probably think that returning to their ‘roots’ would make them feel as though they were going backwards. But I don’t feel that way at all. We’ve been away for many years. We’ve had two kids, grown together as a couple, made some extraordinary friendships, and it’s simply time to take the next step. Moving back feels like a brand new adventure. It’s starting over, in a sense, and yet also moving forward.

I want my kids to grow up in the country, stomping through creeks and catching fireflies. I want them to grow up surrounded by love from their grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. I want them to live lives that are unhurried, unhindered by the chaos that a city life holds. I want to sit on the front porch with my husband when we’re old, drinking sweet tea and holding hands.

It sounds so simple, and that’s just who we are. It’s who we want to be.

Still, I am brimming with so much emotion that I shed tears whenever I have to tell someone we’re leaving. As excited as I am to embark on this next leg of The Journey (elated, really), my tender heart so deeply loves the people and places that have filled my world for the last seven years, and I find myself more affected than I thought I would be.

This is where I brought my babies home for the first time. This is where I watched them grow in their earliest, most precious and fleeting years. I know I’ll look around before we leave and see all the little moments that are contained in this space, and it will fill my soul with more than I can even imagine.

I wonder if someday our time here will all feel like a dream, but I know that even if it does, it has been one beautiful, moving, satisfying dream. Now it’s simply time to move on to the next one.

Like A New Pair Of House Shoes

One year my grandma told me she wanted a new pair of house shoes for Christmas. (For those of you unfamiliar with southern speak, house shoes are slippers.) Such a simple request, so I had no problem purchasing the house shoes for her, lovingly wrapping them in pretty paper, and placing them underneath her tree. I didn’t tell her what the gift was, though I was pretty sure she knew, and looked forward to seeing her open it on Christmas morning.

A few days later I visited her again. I was relaxing in her recliner when I happened to glance down at the gifts under the tree and noticed that mine appeared to have been tampered with.

I picked it up and examined it, and sure enough, the paper was wrinkled, and the tape had definitely been peeled off and replaced.

Grandma lived alone. There was only one explanation.

“Grandma!” I exclaimed. “You opened your present!”

Her eyebrows raised, but she didn’t even hesitate.

“Well, yeah,” she said casually. “I was just sitting here the other day, and I thought, ‘I’d sure like to put on my new house shoes’, so I did.”

I giggled in disbelief.

“So you just opened your present? You just…you just opened it up, put them on, wore them for a while, and then wrapped them back up?”

“Well, yeah...” she said. “They were too small.”

I rolled on the floor in a fit of laughter.

“Grandma! You’re not five. You’re nearly eighty years old – you should know better!”

She just grinned as I laughed at the absurdity of a grown woman not being able to wait until Christmas to open her present (and mostly at her attempt to cover it up).

But you know what? Her casual admission said it all – I think she did know better.

At her age she’d probably spent much of her life waiting for things to happen…waiting for the gifts to appear…waiting for the right moment to enjoy them…and perhaps she had simply decided there was no point in waiting.

I want to be like Grandma. What a tiny, simple, unimportant gift, and yet she literally could not wait to open it.

How great is it to have something to look forward to? To have something that you’re so excited about that you just can’t wait for it? To have a goal, a trip, an opportunity, an event, a moment…something that you long for and go after with your whole heart?

And how much better is it when it's something as simple as a pair of house shoes?

As I walk this path of mine, I want to stop and unwrap my simple gifts along the way with excitement. I don’t want to wait for them if I don’t have to. Life doesn’t last forever, so I’ve got to open as many gifts as I can, right?

So what are my ‘gifts’, those things that I should seek in this journey? What fascinates me? To which parts of life am I irresistibly drawn? What captivates me?

They are the moments that I feel compelled to write about or that prompt me to grab my camera. They are the tiny hands that hold mine, the embrace that calms my fears, and the desires in my heart. They are the things that make me laugh, the things that make me cry, and mostly, the things that open my eyes.

They are everything that is simple and pure and true, and so often overlooked.

Those are the things I find myself craving. Those are the simple gifts I want to enjoy each and every day, and I refuse to wait until Christmas.

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A Devotional - Because I Need It

A while back I read something that talked about ‘spiritual markers’ – specific times of God’s activity in one’s life. It’s something I hadn’t given a lot of thought to, perhaps because I focus so much on the future and decisions I’m making day to day that I forget to stop and think about the past. And it’s so important to think about the past. Not to dwell on it, but to learn from it, and to allow it to mold us into something better.

So I thought about it, and I made my list. I tried to recall the times that I can look back on and specifically say God was doing things to bring me to the place where I am now.

I’m not going to bore you with my entire list, but it contained some basics, some mini events, some big events…a full life of a sometimes-easy-sometimes-difficult spiritual journey. Things like:

·         My decision to accept salvation. It laid the foundation for everything that was to come.

·         My college experience, where I learned just how much negativity about what I believed was out there. Mostly, it made me sad. But it also made me realize that I needed courage that I still didn’t possess.

·         The death of a close friend. The injustice of it broke me – and often made me wonder if the pieces might be unsalvageable - but then it forced me to eventually learn what justice truly was.

·         My marriage. The decision about the most important earthly relationship I’ll ever have.

·         The wait for children. Excrutiating. Confusing. Depressing. The hardest lessons of patience and trusting Him.

And so much more. Through all of it, I knew I wanted to be better, and whenever I stopped relying so much on myself, I slowly began to learn that I could be better. A new me.

But the thing I wonder most is – am I even close to being the ‘me’ I want to be? All of my spiritual markers have collectively brought me through the fire, but did I truly come out refined on the other side?

I worry that I’m not being everything I need to be. As a Christian, do I always show God’s love to others through my actions? Do people see me as kind, humble, and living purposefully? Or just annoying, awkward, and weird?

I put too much pressure on myself, and a lot of that comes from my misguided desire for everyone to like me. When am I going to learn that it isn’t about me? I can’t be everything to everyone. The best I can do is to simply be a vessel for Him and not allow myself to get in the way. Because I can’t do it. Not all people will like me. Not all people will understand me. It’s more likely that few people will even be interested in getting to know me.

It’s not me they need. It’s Him.

So what has been the purpose of this life of mine? What is its future purpose? Where am I going, and what do I need to do to get there?

I don’t have all those answers, but in looking back at all of my spiritual markers, I am certain of one of the answers. He has been with me the whole way. Faithful in a way that I’ll never be. That’s why I can’t rely on myself – I’ve got to rely on Him.

I don’t always clearly see His guidance. And truth be told, I don’t always seek it. I need to be better.

It’s time to be better.

Warrior Poets {Thoughts On Freedom}

I often hear people say that they wish they could be a kid again, to be without a care in the world and without the responsibilities that come with being an adult. And I get it; I really do. There are parts of childhood that I suppose I might like to revisit…like innocent discoveries and imaginative play…but those are things I can relive with my own children.

The truth is I’m one of the weirdos who enjoys being an adult. I like cooking whatever I feel like eating for dinner and staying up late and planning vacations and choosing where to live and what to buy. Even as hard as it is sometimes, I like being in charge of my own life. I like being free. Independent.

It might be easier to lack responsibility, but I wouldn’t trade my freedom for the dependence that comes with unaccountability. Boundaries, though often necessary, are only worthwhile when you can trust the source from which they come. There are few sources that I trust with such a power. The only good boundaries come from a place of love.

I often wonder what kind of world my children will grow up in. Will they experience freedom in the same way I have? Do I experience the same level of freedom that my grandparents did? Blood has been shed over securing the right to freedom, and yet there are those who would be so quick to relinquish it for the very little they think they might gain.

From where one person stands, it’s hard to gauge freedom as it has been experienced in different times and distant places, but it’s clear that the world is changing – because it always has been. It morphs into something new with each passing moment, and it often feels as though there is little we can do to impact how it changes.

We can, however, choose the sources that we trust. And we can fight for what we know is ours.

The choices that we make – they are only made possible by the fact that we are free to make them.

I put Hannah down for her nap a while ago, and as I typed this post, I heard “Jesus Loves Me” coming from the other room. She has a stuffed lamb that plays it, and she was winding it up over and over, listening to the music until she fell asleep. It told me that she's at peace with her source of love and boundaries.

There is so much liberation in that.

What I Love About My Firstborn

Abram seems to be moving out of his little crankball stage and back into a routine. I think we may be emerging from the black hole of the four-month regression. (Oh Lord, please let it be so.) I love seeing him happy and restful.

And I love knowing that it won’t be long before his little personality starts shining through. I can already see glimpses of it. I’m going to be captivated as I watch it emerge, just like I was with Hannah.

Hannah…my firstborn…my little girl. She’s the topic today – I’m linking up with Moments That Define Life for this week’s Listable Life topic, 5 Things I Love About My Firstborn.

Who Abram will be as yet to be seen, but Hannah is showing her colors to the world in full force! I don’t know how I’m going to narrow it down to just five things, but here goes (in no particular order):

1) She is so funny. I know; I talk about that all the time. Enough already. But really, I just love that she got the best of mommy and daddy’s senses of humor – mama’s goofiness and daddy’s playfulness. She loves to laugh, and we’re usually joining right in with her. There will never be any shortage of laughter in our household.

And we could see that pretty much from the beginning!

2) She is independent and adventurous. She's my fearless little tomboy who runs around barefooted in the backyard. If she gets a sticker in her foot, she plucks it out and keeps on going. She has just enough reservation to keep from jumping into something headfirst, but she's unafraid of new situations and uncharted territory.

Life will be so much easier for her than it was for me if she can hold onto that.

3) She is an imaginative, expressive little chatterbox. Yes, it can drive me nuts sometimes, but I love that she tells me what’s on her mind. Since she studies things with wonder and awe, she tells about them with an infectious excitement. She’s only two years old, but I already feel like I know her so well. 



Sharing life with her makes life that much more fun.

4) She loves abundantly and feels with her whole heart. She tells me every single day, “I love you so much, mama.” She is very attached to and protective of her baby brother. Sad things make her sad, and happy things make her joyful.

She will make a wonderful mama one day.

5) Ambitious. Tenacious. Persistent. Sometimes these traits come out in the form of frustration, such as when she exasperatedly flings something across the room because she can’t fix it/figure it out/put it on by herself. (I have no idea where she got this character trait from…ahem.) But that’s only because she loves learning and mastering new skills, and she works hard for her successes.

She makes me proud.
So proud.
To be her mama.

I'm Totally Normal. I Promise! Okay, I'm A Little Weird.

Many of you would probably be surprised to know that I have very likely had a conversation with you that you don’t remember.

How is that possible, you say? Are you a hypnotist? Did you drug me? Quit being freaky, Rachel!

Well, you don’t remember because you weren’t actually a part of the convo. It was just my imagined version of you. That’s right – I have conversations with people in my head.

In fact, if I know you IRL (in real life), I’ve probably had a mental chat with you at least once. That’s how often it happens…while I’m getting ready in the morning, while I’m driving down the road, while I’m perusing the aisles at Target…

(Well, maybe it doesn’t happen quite so often now that I have munchkins constantly interrupting my thoughts, but you get the idea.)

Socially Awkward Penguin gets me.

I guess it’s just that when I start thinking about a topic, I imagine talking about it to whomever I think would be most interested in discussing it with me. Or I think about having a conversation I would like to have but probably never will. Or maybe I’m just bored and you happen to pop into my head. (Lucky you!)

These fictional heart-to-hearts can be brought on by any number of things – a dream, a recovered memory, a Facebook status, a random thought, or even nothing at all. Most of the time I don’t even pay attention to the fact that I’m doing it. But today I did, and it made me think.

I thought about how bad I am at verbal discussions and how I have a tendency toward social awkwardness, and I found myself wishing I could be as eloquent and verbose as I am in my own head.

I’m just not that cool IRL.

It’s probably another reason why I blog. Blogging is my way of releasing some of the internal that I’m not very good at making external.

But anyway, I guess this is my way of saying, Friends, I think about you a lot. You have clearly impacted me in more ways than you know because I carry you with me daily.

Luckily, I googled it (typical me), and despite the fact that it brought up several psych forum hits, I found out that having imagined conversations with people in your head is actually quite normal. (Phew, good to know!)

You probably even have conversations with me in your head. At least I like to think so.

Sometimes Love Is Hard To See...

But that’s because it carries us.

Two years ago I was in a beautiful place – a church leadership camp in a snowy, pine-filled haven. Hannah was only two months old, but Clint and I had decided to brave the trip anyway. It was too great of an experience to pass up – fellowship with good friends, great Bible teaching, beautiful surroundings, snow crunching under our boots…

It had been a wonderful weekend; a much-needed, restful vacation with so much encouragement and food for our souls. It was perfect for our first real outing as a little family.

Most of the time I was lacking cell service, but I managed to catch a call from my dad. He told me that Riley, my sister’s one-month-old baby, was in the hospital. The details weren’t yet clear, but he was sick, and the doctors were running tests.

Concerned and unsure of how serious the problem was, I continued to pray for Riley throughout that evening. I prayed for my sister and her husband as well, that they would find strength and comfort and peace during such a scary time. Since our babies were only about a month apart, I could imagine the anxiety they must have been feeling.

Being in such a spiritually uplifting atmosphere, I found it easy to stay positive. Although I was worried, I knew that it was in God’s hands and that His plan is always perfect. I just hoped that this was a time when His plan would align with ours.

That night Hannah slept well. I remember mentioning that to a friend the next morning because I was so pleased to have gotten several hours of rest. I had really been struggling with the lack of sleep and was desperately hoping that this was a sign of better days ahead.

I had turned off my phone for the night because I’d forgotten my charger, so I turned it back on to see if I had a signal and if there was any more news. I had a text message and some voicemails. I opened the message first.

“Riley passed away this morning.”

Shocked.

Heartbroken.

Confused.

But those words don’t do the feelings justice.

I don’t know how long I sat staring at the words on the screen as I tried to figure out what to do, as if doing anything could change the circumstances. Finally I asked a friend to keep an eye on Hannah and went to go find Clint in the boys’ cabin.

It was still early and most of them were still asleep, so I quietly made my way through the dark cabin until I reached Clint’s bed. I finally let the meaning of the words sink in as I spoke them: “Riley died.”

I buried my head in his chest as I wept. Then I went back outside and trudged through the snow until I saw a signal on my phone. I called my dad and stood alone in the middle of the cabins, in the midst of the pure white glow of the dawn, and we cried. There wasn’t much to say. All we could do was cry.

I went back in my cabin, sat on my bed, and watched Hannah sleep. I had been so thankful that she was asleep. Now I felt guilty for wanting sleep. It felt like such a hollow reason to give thanks.

I know the truth. I know God’s love is unwavering. I know that each and every life is precious to Him and that our earthly concepts of love don’t even hold a candle to His. I know that like any parent, He does not want to see His children suffer. I know He doesn’t make mistakes. I know He gives abundantly.

But there are days when knowing doesn’t translate into trusting, days when faith is even harder than we ever could have imagined. That’s when all we have to lean on is the fact that He’s carrying us. He knows of trials; He knows of suffering better than any of us. So He also knows how best to carry us.

I wish I could take her pain away. I wish I could make it not true, that I could go back and stop it from happening. I wish Riley could still be here with us. But I am thankful for the love he brought into her life and for the love that he continues to receive.

Today of all days, I’m so very thankful for love. I know that Riley is celebrating Valentine’s Day surrounded by a choir of angels, in the arms of the One who loved him first.

In Loving Memory of Riley Andru
January 14, 2010 - February 14, 2010

Google Overload: When Search Engines Take Over Your Brain

A while back I was trying to remember a story my grandmother once told me. It was a true story from her childhood about a time when she was walking in the woods in the dark. She heard an owl up in a tree, and as she continued down the road, it followed her. It was a sweet story because she had always felt as though the owl had been protecting her.

But I can’t recall much of the rest of the details. Where was she going? I think she was headed home from somewhere…why was she afraid? I know there is more to it, but my brain seems to have lost some of the pieces of the puzzle. I wanted to know more. So for a brief moment, the thought actually crossed my mind to google it.

Yes, for a split second I had my fingers poised over the keyboard, ready to type in something along the lines of, “grandma owl story” or “owl protection in the dark” (which sounds more like a forest animal birth control ad, now that I think about it). I don’t know what I would have typed in – luckily, I never got to that point. I’m so glad that my brain caught on to the ridiculousness of that act before it actually went through with it.

That close call with insanity made me realize how much I rely on the Internet, and especially Google, for my information fix. I google everything:

“What do you want to do this weekend? “Hold on…hmmm, looks like there’s a street festival on Saturday.”

“What’s the name of that song?” “Um, I don’t…wait, let me google the lyrics real quick!”

 “Liam Neeson looks really large in his movies. He must be really tall.” “Just a second…why, you’re right! He's six foot four!" (Yes, that really happened.)

I can’t remember what life was like before I literally had everything I ever wanted to know at my fingertips. I just remember wishing I had encyclopedias whenever I had a question about something. My kids aren’t even going to know what an encyclopedia is.

"Mom, is that like Wikipedia?”

“Ugh…no. Nevermind – go ride your bike!”
“Bike? Are you talking about my hovercraft?”

I realize this isn’t a new concept. I’m sure you recall those Bing commercials about ‘Search Overload Syndrome'. Yeah, I could totally relate. I can waste so much time clickety-clicking my way across the Internet. But you know it’s really bad when you almost attempt to google things that can’t be googled.

Of course, now that Facebook has ‘Timeline’, it might not be long before we can start googling our life events and actually come up with a few hits.

Too bad Facebook wasn’t around while my grandma was still here. I’m sure she would have tagged me in her owl story note, right?

5 Things I'd Tell My Younger Self

5) You don’t have to be perfect. Really, you don’t. Say ‘yes’ to fun, skip a homework assignment, take a long drive with a friend…because what you’re going to remember are the moments you spent with your loved ones, not the essays you wrote in AP English. Your achievements in your relationships are the ones that matter. Nobody remembers the ones on paper.

4) You are beautiful. Others think so too; you just don’t allow yourself to see it. Straighten your shoulders, walk with your head up, look people in the eye…you have absolutely no reason to be so shy.

3) That guy you think you want to marry? You totally should. It’s going to be even better than you expect.

2) You will be a mama one day. It might not happen when you want it to, and you will certainly feel like it can’t happen soon enough. But don’t let that desire take over your life. There’s a lot of living to be done in the meantime.

And it’s worth the wait.

1) You have an amazing journey ahead of you. Some days will be hard, some days will be easy, and some days will just be. But they are all intended to strengthen you, teach you how to love, give you purpose, and open your eyes. This is when being a good student matters.

Hannah's Corner: Top 10 Moments of 2011

10) Our vacation to Sedona and the Grand Canyon. I love family road trips almost as much as Mama does!

9) Moving from my crib to my “big girl” bed. I had no problems at all because I’m a good little sleeper! Nothing like I was when I was a baby…

8) The amusement park. I wanted to ride the carousel over and over and over again.

7) Playing in the snow on the mountain.

I got to throw snowballs and try out sledding. Then we got to go eat cookies and ice cream, and I never pass up treats! My second experience with snow was quite different from the first:

6) Swimming. Anytime, anywhere. Seriously guys, if you haven’t tried it, you totally should. It’s amazing.

5) Trick-or-treating. I still talk about it all the time. My butterfly costume was the coolest, and it was super fun to walk up to houses and have people give me candy! I also learned the word “spooky.” I still say that word a lot because Daddy makes “spooky ghost” noises.

4) My birthday. Mama says I am two years old now. I got a birthday cake and presents. When Mama asked me what kind of cake I wanted, I said “blue” just because I’ve seen pictures of my first birthday cake, and it was blue.

3) Christmas! I helped decorate the tree, saw amazing Christmas lights, got to open presents again, and I even got a tricycle. I also got my favorite thing ever – CANDY!

2) Family coming to visit us. My grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles are the COOLEST ever! Plus I got to stay up late and act like a crazy person.  My mom almost cried when everybody left, but she says she’s kinda hormonal these days.

1) When Baby Abram was born! He’s so cute, and I always want to hold him. I wondered what it would be like to have a baby brother, but now I can’t imagine what life would be like without him.

I can’t wait to see what happens this year. I hope there are some new, exciting things in store for my family, and for yours too! Thank you for reading my Mama’s blog – she thinks you are all really great!

Hugs & Kisses,

 Hannah