Hot weather is good for… naps.

Last week we moved Orison and Morrow into the same room. I thought for sure it was going to be the end of naps as we knew them. But it’s been good so far!

For Morrow, I just secured a sheet around Morrow’s crib so he can’t see out and he goes to sleep just fine. I’ve always found that if you treat a baby like a bird (cover their cage and they sleep), you usually get a good nap out of ‘em.

For Orison, who’s always been kinda chatty at bedtime, he needs to “help Morrow” take a good nap by being quiet himself.

And since it’s unusually hot around here, I think Orison goes to nap intending to not sleep, but the heat just lulls him into dreamland. And thus, how I’m finding any time to post!

I know for those of you in Southern regions, 90+ ain’t no thang, but around here it’s a big deal. But since we wait for it for sooo long in this climate, I want to enjoy it, thank God for it, not complain it away.

And if it helps my kids nap, all the better!

Uh-oh… time’s up.

Grief Resources Over at Family Life

I had the privilege of reading the book, A Symphony in the Dark, a couple months ago. It has now been released, and you can order a copy or explore some of the other grief resources available over at Family Life.

You can also read more about little Molly Ann Mutz, daughter of Jake and Rebecca (nee Rainey) Mutz, and granddaughter to Dennis and Barbara Rainey (of Family Life). Molly Ann lived for a short seven days, leaving the imprint of her life in a profound and beautiful way, forever.

My favorite grief song

I never knew I’d have grief songs, but I do. There’s actually a bunch of them, some of them having nothing to do with grief on the surface.

But since music is one of my love languages, it only makes sense that the most visceral experiences and emotions would mingle with music, something that can be so inexplicable and visceral in how it affects us.

Back in October, I went to see Sandra McCracken in concert. I had always loved her, but after this particular night it was cemented. She played a song called “The Tie That Binds,” written for a friend whose daughter had battled multiple infections of her brain after she was diagnosed with leukemia. The infections caused devastating amounts of tissue death and she’ll never fully recover. This all occurred before her 1st birthday.

The strange thing about it was, I knew the family who the song was written for. As soon as she sang the name “Amelia” I knew it was for a gal I knew in college when I lived in Lincoln, Nebraska for a summer. Her daughter is Amelia.

Enjoy the song, and remember your grieving friend. Pray for him or her. Cry tears for their loss. Bind yourself to them through brokenhearted love.

The Tie That Binds by Sandra McCracken

The sorrow of a friend
From a long way we stand
Grief is second hand
But I’ll send my tears in a locket

Amelia smiles under lights & wires
Thorns for every flower
We number every hour
And live the days we are given

Oh, the pain
It makes you feel alive
Oh, the broken heart is the tie that binds
And I pray to God, these things will be made right

When the morning shines
On tear stained eyes
Oh we shall overcome
The Father gave the Son
To break the curse we are under

Oh the pain that no man can escape
Oh the sting of death, the empty grave,
And I pray to God where comfort has no place

When our tired eyes look through the veil
The colors are so pale but we raise high the sail
And call the winds to carry us home
Call the winds to carry us home.

I’m 30… finally.

Today is my 30th birthday. Really, I’m cool with it. I’ve felt 30+ for a long time; it’s about time my chronological age matched up with my mental age.

As we reflected last night right after the stroke of midnight, the tears came. It wasn’t about being 30. It was lamenting the change in us that’s happened over the past 20 months. We’re no longer those happy-go-lucky, vibrant people we used to be. We’re haggard and weary and completely transformed. And it happened in an instant.

It’s as though when the doctor looked at us and said, “I’m afraid this baby is no longer living,” that a huge boulder dropped down onto the timeline of our lives, marking the point from which everything changed.

But, like I said in my post-Mother’s Day report, there’s sadness and joy on the same day, sometimes in the same minute.

Like last night. Right after this tearful conversation with Abraham, I popped over to his blog and saw a video that I could watch continually today. Everything inside of me that is joy rises up when I watch it.

And last night, before the tearful conversation, Abraham took me out for a wonderful birthday date. It was creative, surprising, sacrificial… I have an amazing husband.

And tonight is a dinner party with some of my closest friends. I’m really really excited for that.

So here we are again—joy and sorrow, sorrow and joy.

I’m thankful for waking up today to the faces of 3 of my family members. I’m thankful for the loving parents and parents-in-law who love me so well. And sisters and brothers and friends.

It’s a good day to be 30.

Mother’s Day 2009

In my post about Mother’s Day, I made quick reference to some of the sweet moments of Mother’s Day. I thought I’d let you all in on a couple of them. There really were many, all things considered.

First of all, we had Morrow’s dedication at church. When I think back to last Mother’s Day, when I couldn’t even bring myself to go to church, knowing it would be too painful, and compare it to this year (being able to not only go, but stand up in front of people and participate in a dedication service), I realize that God has done a lot of healing work in my heart.

Of course I cried. That’s part of what I do. And that’s Morrow’s Granddaddy doing the dedication—another sweet moment of the day.

The words of dedication go like this:

Morrow, together with your parents who love you dearly, and this people who care about the outcome of your faith, I dedicate you to God. Surrending together with them, all worldly claims upon your life, in the hope that you will belong wholly to God forever.

One of the things our church does to recognize the heaviness of a holiday like Mother’s Day is distribute white roses. They have vases of them at the front of the church for people to take to commemorate their losses—whether it’s your mother, your children, your desire for children….

Doing it this way means that no one is singled out or told their pain isn’t significant compared to another person’s pain. Anyone can take one—I love that.

Here we are with our red rose (given for the dedication) and our white rose (to remember our Felicity).

Ater a Mother’s Day lunch and hanging out with Abraham’s mother, we went to the cemetery as a family.

I even laughed and had some fun on Mother’s Day this year.

It’s not abandoning her to smile and laugh. It doesn’t mean I’m over her death if I enjoy certain aspects of motherhood.

I hate that she’s dead. I hate posing by a gravestone for Mother’s Day pictures. But I love her. And I think it honors her to laugh sometimes, just as it does to cry sometimes.

Mother’s Day, all in all, was better this year. Of course it had it’s tearful moments and heartaches. Of course it had laughter and enjoyment. All of it mingles together for a mother who loves her dead and living children.

It’s been an eventful couple weeks for Orison’s head.

Ever since our first-born son arrived on the scene, people have commented on the size of his head. When we was six months old, he was something like 1oth percentile for height, 3rd percentile for weight, and 90th percentile for head size. The kid has a large noggin.

His head has been the center of much drama in the last couple weeks.

Act I: I got Orison off the school bus last Friday and was told by his bus driver that there would be a message on our answering machine from the preschool director, because during school that morning, he had decided to cut his hair.

I suppose I never thought to tell him, “Never cut your own hair.” I guess I didn’t want to give him any ideas.

But at school that day, while they were potting their Mother’s Day flowers (which of course meant that the teachers were trying to handle 17 4-year-olds in a project that involved copious amounts of dirt), Orison sauntered off to the writing center and snagged himself a pair of scissors.

He then proceeded to hide behind a bookcase in the reading area and go to work! He snipped some hair from the sides, the back and the front. Apparently, after a few minutes, he popped up from behind the bookcase and exclaimed to his teachers, “I’ve been cutting my hair!”

Needless to say, he looked really funny. And because Abraham was busy with a conference for work at the time,  he had to stay that way for two days until the situation could be remedied. Every time I looked at him I wanted to laugh!

So he ended up with a pretty short buzz cut, just in time for summer. Which leads us to…

Act 2: While Abraham was shaving Orison’s head, he got to the one side and said, “Uh… what’s this?”

He had uncovered a scabby, scaly patch on the side of Orison’s head. I knew right away what it was. “Ringworm!” I exclaimed.

You might wonder why I was happy to have made the discovery. But it’s been driving me insane for months! Orison has developed splotches of ringworm on his torso that I’ve been treating with topical cream, but they never seem to get any better. I had searched through his hair many times before, looking for a patch in his scalp, but never found one under his long tresses.

It was like solving a mystery. I felt guilty that I hadn’t seen it before, but more than that I was just happy to know the cause!

So a trip to the dermatologist and a few scrapes of the head patch yielded a new prescription that should blast this out of his system once and for all.

*Intermission* Nice, uneventful rest of the week and Mother’s Day weekend.

Act 3: About an hour before we were supposed to head off to dinner at a friend’s house Monday night, we heard a thud from the kitchen followed by a loud cry.

We met somewhere in the middle between him running to us and us running to him. He had been messing around on a step stool in the kitchen and had fallen off backwards and hit his head on one of the handles to the kitchen cabinets.

He had a small, but pretty deep, split on the back of his head. Of course Abraham and I went back and forth about whether we should take him to the ER or not. Since it was in his hair, a Band-Aid wasn’t going to stick, unless we shaved it. And then we’d have to be really diligent about making sure he didn’t mess with it, that his butterfly Band-Aids were staying on correctly, etc.

After about a half-hour of discussion, we decided I would take him in. Three hours, three stitches, and a popsicle later, we emerged. He did a fantastic job laying still for the suture nurse and remained very calm through the whole process.

Needless to say, I’m ready for the Head Trauma Drama to be over. Everyone just take your bow and drop the curtain already!

Do you want to die this Mother’s Day?

For most of you who read this blog, Mother’s Day is a happy day, full of celebration and laughter as you behold the faces of your children—all your children.

For some of you who read here, Mother’s Day is part-celebration and part-torture. There’s sweetness in the faces of the husband and children who are here. But just about a millimeter away from those joys, a deep and bitter pain resides.

For some of you, there seems to be only torture and (what feels like) everlasting pain. Maybe you’ve miscarried all your children. Or maybe your only child is dead. Or maybe you long for children like nothing else on this earth and you still don’t have any. You probably feel like you’re not a mother. You probably feel like half a woman.

I’m in the second category. For me it’s because one of my children is missing. I have two precious boys, but my only daughter is missing. My little girl is missing.

I suppose “missing” implies that I don’t know where she is. But I do know where she is, I just can’t get to her.

Unless I died this Mother’s Day.

There have been many times when the pain has felt so intense that I was sure that it was going to kill me. And most of those times I thought I would’ve been happier if it had.

But I’m still here. And she’s still there.

So what’s a grieving woman to do on Mother’s Day?

• Does she just end it now?
• Does she hole up with her pain and steel herself against love?
• Does she receive comfort from the Lord as she laments before him?

I want to live in #3. I want you to live in #3. I don’t want to miss one thing that he has for me through this pain.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a really hard, long road. I have no idea how many twists and turns and bumps there will be. But I see him transforming me along this road of suffering. I know I haven’t been perfect in the transformation—I still fight anger, bitterness, hatred, fear, and jealousy all the time. I still rail against his plan for me.

Paul said this in Philippians 1:

For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two.

Was Paul suicidal? No. He was giving words to the paradox that we live in as Christians. It would be “far better” to be with Jesus today. It would mean the end of the pain, the end of the tears, the end of the loneliness. It would mean beholding my precious baby girl.

But what did Paul conclude? He knew his presence in the flesh was necessary. He knew that God had plans for his life on earth. If God were finished with him, he would depart.

For probably all of us, today is not the day that God will fulfill all of his work in our lives and take us to be with him. As much as we might long for it, it’s probably not happening today.

What convincing do you need that your presence here is necessary?

• Will a living baby do it?
• Will a daughter (or son) do it?
• Will the love of family and friends do it?

I think those things can certainly help, but even those amazing realities will never be what you and I truly need.

In the deepest part of me, I need Christ. I need his presence in my pain with me. I need his strength to carry my burden. I need his forgiveness for my constant distrust of his plan for my life. I need his peace to rest in, all the days I will live on earth, separated from my daughter.

I guess I want to encourage all of the mourners today to press into the pain with Jesus. Just go ahead and let it flow. Not only can he handle it, he’s the only one who can truly handle it and even heal it.

So as I live through another Mother’s Day without my Felicity, I’m going to laugh at the funny parts, cry at the sad parts, and let my love for her flow through all of it. That’s where I have to live this Mother’s Day.

50 Things About Me: More stuff than you probably ever wanted to know.

1. I always have a glass of water by my bed at night but rarely use it.
2. I was the last kid in my class to lose their first tooth. I think I was in 3rd grade!
3. My favorite flowers are lilies. The stronger the smell, the better.
4. My favorite junk cereal is Peanut Butter Kid’s Crunch from Aldi’s.
5. I’ve only broken one bone in my life—my arm when I was 4 or 5.
6. I used to always get the Presidential Fitness Award when I was in elementary school. My best event was the sit-ups.
7. I think I hate asparagus, but I actually like it.
8. I don’t like raw tomatoes on anything other than a BLT.
9. I had my braces put on and then had my wisdom teeth taken out within two days of each other. It was a rough week for my mouth.
10. I’ve been wearing glasses since sixth grade. I was really excited about it back then, but now it’s not so great.
11. I once sang the National Anthem at a Minnesota Twin’s game. However, it wasn’t as cool as you might think. They pre-record it and you just lip sync because of the reverb in the Metrodome.
12. I grew up in Erie, Pennsylvania.
13. My dad is a retired high school music teacher, and he was my choir director in high school.
14. Abraham and I get addicted to TV shows via the internet.
15. My first job was when I was 13 years old. I worked full-time during the summer at the local amusement park.
16. I’ve only been stung by a bee one time in my life, and that was on my tongue. I was walking and talking and before I knew it there was something weird in my mouth that I spit out. And since it was my first bee sting I didn’t know if I was going to have an allergic reaction, so I was basically just sitting there waiting to see if my tongue was going to swell and choke me to death.
17. In high school I sang Alto II in choir and Soprano I for my voice lessons.
18. I used to HATE mayonnaise. I like it a little bit now, but only on certain things.
19. I only had one pet as a child, a cat named Mork.
20. I’ve never been to Florida. Weird, right?
21. I love staying at hotels with a pool, even now as an adult.
22. I don’t really like eating salad at home. I like it out at a restaurant or even at other people’s houses, but it just tastes different at home.
23. I am really bad at painting my nails. I’m also really bad at remembering to take it off—I just let it slowly chip off.
24. I think my least favorite job would be a waitress/server.
25. I wish I were charismatic/skilled enough to have a TV show. I don’t know what it would be about.
26. I love picking blueberries. I wish I could do it for my job. Just kidding.
27. My favorite fruit is fresh pineapple.
28. I never went off the continent until I was 26 years old, when we traveled to England and Scotland. And I haven’t been off since, but not by my choice. If anyone has an extra house in England/Scotland/Wales/Ireland/Australia (or really anywhere) that they want to let us use, let me know.
29. My favorite salad dressing is probably ginger sesame.
30. My eyes are green, but Abraham says they change color depending on the scenario.
31. I really like putting lotion on my feet.
32. I like it even better when Abraham rubs lotion on my feet.
33. I have only owned one car. It’s a 1996 Honda Accord and it’s been the best car in the whole world.
34. My favorite Blizzard at Dairy Queen is Butterfinger. I think it’s been my favorite since the Blizzard was invented.
35. My hair is naturally curly/wavy, so I have to blow dry it straight. If it’s humid in the summer, I let it go curly.
36. I hate going to bed with wet hair, unless it’s really hot.
37. I loved being in musicals in high school. I wish real life were more like a musical; everyone would just randomly bust into the same song and choreography together.
38. We kind of have a weird, quirky language that we use at home. Even Orison uses some of the vocab we’ve invented.
39. I used to love New Kids on the Block as a kid. I even went to one of their concerts. My mom is amazing; I’m not sure I would do the same for my kids.
40. I don’t know how to snap my gum, which is probably better, because it would annoy people.
41. I never had guacamole until I was probably 25 years old. Now, I love it!
42. I don’t think I would go out of my way to go see the president, any president.
43. My favorite chain restaurant is probably Chili’s.
44. I have 8 nieces and nephews.
45. I’m not a big pet person.
46. I always talk about wanting to live in the “fake country”—I want the scenery of country but also be able to get to Target in 10 minutes, tops.
47. I over-pack for every trip.
48. I’ve only been camping one time in my life—last summer. It was definitely car camping, where your car is within 50 yards and you have fully-functional showers and flushing toilets. I liked it a lot more than I was expecting to, and we’re even talking about doing it again this summer.
49. I keep my external hard drive in a fire-proof box. If I lost my pictures, I think I would cry for days.
50. My favorite music is probably alt. country/folk.

Are you as distracted on the internet as I am? A poll.

So many times I go to post on my blog or write an email or just look something up on the internet, and before I know it I’ve been sucked into the vortex of social networking applications. Does this happen to you?

I suppose if I were really organized and disciplined, I would make a list of internet to-dos and complete those first. And then I could visit my social network sites. I’d probably get more done, but I’d be so anti-social!

Encomium to the Internet

What did people do before the internet?!?!

I know some of the smug answers:

They spent time with their families.

They connected with “real” people.

But seriously, I see the internet as a tool, a common grace. Here’s why I think so, just from my life today:

• My dear friend Kate calls me at lunchtime to say her flight through Minneapolis is going to now have a longer layover, so can I meet her for dinner at the airport?

  Pre-internet, I would have been calling Northwest Airlines 4-5 times this afternoon and would have spent half my day on hold, just trying to follow her flight’s status. With the internet, it’s done in a matter of minutes, thus leaving me more time with my family!

  Also it took me 2 minutes to map out our route to Potbelly’s 3.9 miles away.

• I have a wedding shower to go to on Saturday. But the next two days are going to be really busy for me, so I’m not going to have a lot of shopping time.

  What does the internet allow me to do? I go to target.com, browse the registry, pick the gift I want to give, and I can either order it right then or find out if it’s available at my closest store.

  Since I didn’t give myself enough time to ship it, I’ll just run over and get it on Friday afternoon or Saturday morning. Without the internet, it would take me until Saturday morning just to choose a present!

It’s such a time-saver. I know the reverse could be said, that it’s a time-waster, and that’s often true. But when I think about how much time and effort the internet saves me, it makes me want to blog about it!!!

Also, how many of you have already used the internet to find out what the word encomium means? That’s what I did!

30til30: My favorite blog series from one of my favorite people.

My best friend, Danielle, has been counting down on her blog to a very important milestone: her 30th birthday. She’s been writing a post each day for a month about a significant person/event/experience in her life that has shaped her. It’s sheer genius.

I’ve been meaning to link to this series for weeks now, but yesterday’s post about Felicity was especially powerful for Abraham and me, as we watched the 18-month mark of her death pass by. We spent time crying, talking, processing, reminiscing (as much as a bereaved brain can), and wondering about the future.

Danielle has loved me for as long as I can remember, and as the years have marched on, she’s just widened and expanded her love to include every new member of my family. She’s a sister, sister-in-law, and aunt around here. Her specific love for my daughter continually blesses me. She’s honored the life that Felicity lived, even if it was only in my womb. For this, I thank God. And I thank her.

Danielle, I love you more than I could ever express. Happy early birthday.

Saturday Snap

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted a picture of the kids, so here’s a more recent one with them decked out in their brother gear.

(Thanks for the shirts, Miss Jessica!)

Shopping and Spring

I went to the mall for a few minutes this morning to begin the quest to find a bridesmaid dress. (I’m in a wedding in June for a dear, dear friend.) My assignment is to locate a brown bridesmaid dress. All of us are allowed to pick our own in whatever style we like, so the search is on!

I have to admit, I didn’t look as hard as I could, mostly because I found myself sucked into spring clothes and colors (oh, and the 75% off boots at Macy’s). What is it about spring clothes? Every year I find myself wanting a whole new wardrobe when March comes on.

I’m happy to report that I made it out of the mall without buying anything (mostly because I’m cheap). But I found myself thinking, “I wish I could win a huge shopping spree.”

Why do I feel like that in the spring? Is it just the change in weather that makes me want to go drop tons of money on stuff I don’t need? And as I’ve thought about it this afternoon, I realized that I haven’t worn my spring clothes in 2 years because I’ve been pregnant, so maybe they’ll feel fresh and fun—here’s hoping. More likely, they’ll just feel dreadfully out of style and ridiculously ill-fitting on my new (not improved) body shape. Ah well.

Then Abraham and I got to talking, and here’s the question: If someone gave you a $10,000 shopping spree to one store (no expiration), what store would it be?

The only rule is that you can’t say the grocery store. My painfully practical side would definitely give that answer, but I’m making myself not answer that. So you can’t either—HA!

And if you have trouble giving just one answer, tell me what you’d debate between. I love the struggle of such a difficult, and unfortunately imaginary, choice.

Update (for those of you who must have more rules):

1. Men are permitted to participate (Abraham’s first choice was the Apple Store)
2. Online stores are an option.