You'd think at this stage of the game, there would be no more surprises...
But, you fairly knocked me off my feet.
As the days spread into weeks - i kept my secret... bringing out my knowledge of you to admire in the dark before sleep came. Anxiety was kept at bay as there was only my Father to talk to - & He's not big into fear. i watched my body begin to change - to accommodate you - little one, into whom life was breathed by God Himself. Your days were already numbered by the Creator of the Universe & i praised Him as i rested in the knowledge of His Goodness.
But now,
the secret is leaked...
in whispers - hushed and sacred - news of your impending arrival is beginning to spread.
Our circle of love - once only God and you - next me - next papa - is spreading further and further as those who will love you for life hear the joyful news that you're coming.
Baby B - hoped for, loved and expected 01-31-10
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
teaching baby
So, the children have taught Gagey to claw the air and say, "reow..." Like a coy kitten.
They think it's hilarious.
Poor guy - he was doomed from the get go.
They think it's hilarious.
Poor guy - he was doomed from the get go.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Klimt
So, when Minerva posted her poetry challenge this week, she seemed a little extra excited about it. i had never heard the word Ekphrasis before & felt myself hit a bit of a mental block. Prior to this, i think all of the challenges had some kind of a "poetry mold" that i had to try to fit my words into... This one didn't. No rhyming scheme, no meter to observe, no length, no syllables to count... & the freedom was only half my problem...
See, the thing is, you're supposed to base your poem on a work of art.
i love art.
But...
i feel completely inadequate to describe from within a masterpiece - my own crippled verbal view... & so it's no surprise that i wasn't entirely happy with what i ended up with. BUT, a challenge *is* after all, a challenge & so i'll post it here anyway.
The piece of art i chose is one i see a print of every time i go to my sister's house. She has several of his prints & this one especially moves me. It's called _The Kiss_ by Gustav Klimt.
Surrounded.
Surrounded.
Completely enveloped.
Fingers intertwined with fingers -
and the fine hair at the
nape of my neck.
Held.
Arms holding me.
My feet unable to find firm ground.
His breath is on me,
My cheeks afire.
Kissed.
Soft lips touch
burnt cheek
no breath escapes -
My eyes close - i'm lost.
Coloured.
Golden tones.
Warmth and flashes of light.
Soft greens express
our verdant love.
****************************
Now, i'll admit - i feel like a bit of a doorknob posting poetry on a blog - so, if anyone wants to play along, *do* - so i don't feel so lonesome.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
a quick 18
We all know that a quick 18 doesn't exist. Especially those of us who are married to lovers of the game.
He comes bounding into the house, like a great big puppy, his gangly legs taking three stairs at a time. He's whipping off his dress pants as he breathlessly informs me he's going for a "quick 18". He's so hyper, he whips children up off the ground & throws them onto our bed & tickles till i'm sure someone is going to wet their pants (i just hope it's a child & not my golf fanatic husband).
He grabs me in a bear hug - he who only 2 hours earlier was nearly motionless staring at his computer screen, glassy eyed in his office - and kisses me on the lips, hard.
In seconds he has changed into his appropriate golf garb and is bounding down the stairs, fairly running for the door.
i feel a slight niggle of jealousy. How can this game - & the promise of 4 hours of sunshine with a buddy make his mood so hilariously jovial?
i push the feelings aside, smile & say, "Have fun!"
After all, it's only a quick 18... & hopefully when he gets home, my playful pup will still have some of that zip in his step.
He comes bounding into the house, like a great big puppy, his gangly legs taking three stairs at a time. He's whipping off his dress pants as he breathlessly informs me he's going for a "quick 18". He's so hyper, he whips children up off the ground & throws them onto our bed & tickles till i'm sure someone is going to wet their pants (i just hope it's a child & not my golf fanatic husband).
He grabs me in a bear hug - he who only 2 hours earlier was nearly motionless staring at his computer screen, glassy eyed in his office - and kisses me on the lips, hard.
In seconds he has changed into his appropriate golf garb and is bounding down the stairs, fairly running for the door.
i feel a slight niggle of jealousy. How can this game - & the promise of 4 hours of sunshine with a buddy make his mood so hilariously jovial?
i push the feelings aside, smile & say, "Have fun!"
After all, it's only a quick 18... & hopefully when he gets home, my playful pup will still have some of that zip in his step.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
les miserables...
i had to cancel out on doing the music on Sunday morning - in all the years i've done music in church, this is a first for me.
After being up all night with various children, cleaning up bedding & big puddles of yuck, & then finally losing a battle with my own stomach, i still got up & showered... & got ready... & then my stomach dealt me a knock out punch - & i reconsidered.
The stomach flu is not cool. i am grateful for what has been a long, beautiful break from it & looking forward to another one, once we all recover.
***
Monday morning update: Looks like we're all on the mend.
After being up all night with various children, cleaning up bedding & big puddles of yuck, & then finally losing a battle with my own stomach, i still got up & showered... & got ready... & then my stomach dealt me a knock out punch - & i reconsidered.
The stomach flu is not cool. i am grateful for what has been a long, beautiful break from it & looking forward to another one, once we all recover.
***
Monday morning update: Looks like we're all on the mend.
Friday, July 24, 2009
6 little ones...
Sitting at the beach with 3 friends.
Talking about our little ones who went home early.
There are 4 of us, we have lost 6 babies.
This morning i woke up - rubbed my eyes - & still couldn't erase the imaginings of what our day would have been like with those 6 extra children running around us. Splashing in the water - asking for grapes - watching the sand escape from clenched fist as the wind carries it away...
Talking about our little ones who went home early.
There are 4 of us, we have lost 6 babies.
This morning i woke up - rubbed my eyes - & still couldn't erase the imaginings of what our day would have been like with those 6 extra children running around us. Splashing in the water - asking for grapes - watching the sand escape from clenched fist as the wind carries it away...
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Wearing Jesus...
Sometimes i don't feel like it. i feel like taking Him off - like a coat - & leaving Him on the rack so i can roam more comfortably in my own misery. i can be rude or grumpy - & forget that He would pull my heart towards kindness and grace... i can be quick to anger, holding a grudge & forget that He would have me lay down my rights. i can wallow in my own self-importance & forget that He thinks other people are important too.
Saturate me, Lord - so that You soak into the very fiber of my being.
Don't be a surface garment that i can carelessly toss aside - change me from the inside out.
Forgive me, Jesus - for my thoughtless pride,
and consecrate my little life -
For You.
Saturate me, Lord - so that You soak into the very fiber of my being.
Don't be a surface garment that i can carelessly toss aside - change me from the inside out.
Forgive me, Jesus - for my thoughtless pride,
and consecrate my little life -
For You.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
When i first met your father...
Dear Little Ones,
When i first met your father, he was 10... maybe 11. His family visited in the winter & then proceeded to move in the summer. i remember him being the new boy.
His mom must have bought him some new clothes for the school year - 'cause when i saw him in church, he was all decked out. He had on a purple polka dotted silk shirt - tucked into what must have been wrangler jeans, and some bright white loafers. We were almost the same height - he was maybe a little taller - but his enormous feet hinted that his height might one day catch up to them in size. He had obviously experimented with Sun-in, as his hair was a bright orangish hue - styled in that famous long in the back, spiky on top cut & his glasses were larger than life... as well suited to his surroundings in 1989 as he is now, though he looks much different, in 2009.
Some things have stayed the same though... He had rough, tanned hands that were obviously used to work. His skin - after being in the sun for about 5 minutes, looks like a bronzed statue. He never tries to be the center of attention -& he finds it easy to choose to do 'the right thing'. It's easy for me to believe that that little boy became the man of my dreams, the father of my babies & the one i love.
'Cause when he looks at me -
like he did back then -
in long, unhurried gazes -
my heart still skips a beat.
When i first met your father, he was 10... maybe 11. His family visited in the winter & then proceeded to move in the summer. i remember him being the new boy.
His mom must have bought him some new clothes for the school year - 'cause when i saw him in church, he was all decked out. He had on a purple polka dotted silk shirt - tucked into what must have been wrangler jeans, and some bright white loafers. We were almost the same height - he was maybe a little taller - but his enormous feet hinted that his height might one day catch up to them in size. He had obviously experimented with Sun-in, as his hair was a bright orangish hue - styled in that famous long in the back, spiky on top cut & his glasses were larger than life... as well suited to his surroundings in 1989 as he is now, though he looks much different, in 2009.
Some things have stayed the same though... He had rough, tanned hands that were obviously used to work. His skin - after being in the sun for about 5 minutes, looks like a bronzed statue. He never tries to be the center of attention -& he finds it easy to choose to do 'the right thing'. It's easy for me to believe that that little boy became the man of my dreams, the father of my babies & the one i love.
'Cause when he looks at me -
like he did back then -
in long, unhurried gazes -
my heart still skips a beat.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
fish outta water
What's this queer feeling in my chest - like i can't breathe? My legs & arms feel strange - like they don't belong to me & my house feels unfamiliar and lacks the comfort of home...
My bed is neither soft enough, nor hard enough - and my blankets are both too heavy & too light... i keep missing what the children said and in my distracted state, they impatiently repeat their requests, story, answer...
Finally - after days of flapping fins -
His flight lands...
In the wee hours of the morning, he finds our vehicle and drives home.
In the black of night, he creeps upstairs and finds me in our bed.
He's home.
& now, finally, i am too.
Sweet is the smile of home; the mutual look, when hearts are of each other sure. -- John Keble
My bed is neither soft enough, nor hard enough - and my blankets are both too heavy & too light... i keep missing what the children said and in my distracted state, they impatiently repeat their requests, story, answer...
Finally - after days of flapping fins -
His flight lands...
In the wee hours of the morning, he finds our vehicle and drives home.
In the black of night, he creeps upstairs and finds me in our bed.
He's home.
& now, finally, i am too.
Sweet is the smile of home; the mutual look, when hearts are of each other sure. -- John Keble
Monday, July 20, 2009
Yet another poetry challenge...
Believe it or not, it took me a whole week of thinking to come up with this kind of lame attempt at an "abcedarian". i kind of like it - in a way... i wrote it in probably less than 2 minutes - but i tend to like simple... It was inspired by my sweet Sloanie.
Achingly
Beautiful
Child,
Dances
Effortlessly-
Flawlessly-
Gracefully.
Happiness and
Innocence
Joined.
Kindness and
Laughter
Mixed in
Neverland.
One Child.
Passionate,
Questioning,
Rescuing
Saints and
Teachers
Until
Vicariously, with
Wings like a
Xenops
Youth's
Zealousness - makes us fly.
Achingly
Beautiful
Child,
Dances
Effortlessly-
Flawlessly-
Gracefully.
Happiness and
Innocence
Joined.
Kindness and
Laughter
Mixed in
Neverland.
One Child.
Passionate,
Questioning,
Rescuing
Saints and
Teachers
Until
Vicariously, with
Wings like a
Xenops
Youth's
Zealousness - makes us fly.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Taking a nap
oh, weary bones - i see my bed & wonder what it would feel like to just climb in & forget the world around me. The temptation is too great & as i snuggle the blankets up and around my ears, i heave a sigh of contentment.
Moments pass & there is the sound of footsteps in the hallway - "Momma? Gagey has a stinky diaper..."
i force my eyes open & see little blue eyed prince & one of his favourite sisters lugging him into my room. Together, we change his little bum, and i tell big sister that momma just wants a few minutes to rest & would she please take Gagey for a little bit?
The door softly shuts behind her & my eyes begin to close when there is a bloodcurdling scream from the basement. My heart starts to pound. i dig my head under the blankets & hope that the furious screams will stop soon. The voice begins to travel & i sigh as my door bangs open & 2 livid small fry enter my room. It takes all of Solomon's wisdom to calm this outrage - wisdom that i am lacking in my sleep deprived state, but soon i have evicted some slightly less angry children from my room and i roll over, hoping to please shut my eyes - just for a moment.
i hear a whisper in the hallway.
"Gagey, mama's just in her bed... go in her room, you'll find her..."
The door thumps open & i hear pudgy feet padding towards me. He hefts his little body up onto the bed & leans over my face, laying smoochies on my lips as i keep my eyes shut, hoping against hope that he'll snuggle in for a little nap.
i hear the front door slam as someone goes out. Slam. Someone comes in. Slam. Someone out. Slam. In. Slam. Out. In, out, in, out, in, out... the process repeats itself while Gagey digs his fingernails into my eyelids and tries to force his full fist into my mouth.
The phone rings.
i screen the call & realize it's a telemarketer & i let it ring.
"Hello?" i hear downstairs, "Just a minute, i'll get her."
Sweetly smiling child brings me the phone... "It's for you mama, they called you Mrs. Beeezlt."
Nope... naps are a rare commodity these days. Maybe it's God's way of helping me get the most time in with my sweet little brood. Maybe it's one more thing that i should be looking on with gratitude...
There will be years for napping when i'm old and grey - and i'm sure that when those days come, my dreams will be full of this beautiful season...
Moments pass & there is the sound of footsteps in the hallway - "Momma? Gagey has a stinky diaper..."
i force my eyes open & see little blue eyed prince & one of his favourite sisters lugging him into my room. Together, we change his little bum, and i tell big sister that momma just wants a few minutes to rest & would she please take Gagey for a little bit?
The door softly shuts behind her & my eyes begin to close when there is a bloodcurdling scream from the basement. My heart starts to pound. i dig my head under the blankets & hope that the furious screams will stop soon. The voice begins to travel & i sigh as my door bangs open & 2 livid small fry enter my room. It takes all of Solomon's wisdom to calm this outrage - wisdom that i am lacking in my sleep deprived state, but soon i have evicted some slightly less angry children from my room and i roll over, hoping to please shut my eyes - just for a moment.
i hear a whisper in the hallway.
"Gagey, mama's just in her bed... go in her room, you'll find her..."
The door thumps open & i hear pudgy feet padding towards me. He hefts his little body up onto the bed & leans over my face, laying smoochies on my lips as i keep my eyes shut, hoping against hope that he'll snuggle in for a little nap.
i hear the front door slam as someone goes out. Slam. Someone comes in. Slam. Someone out. Slam. In. Slam. Out. In, out, in, out, in, out... the process repeats itself while Gagey digs his fingernails into my eyelids and tries to force his full fist into my mouth.
The phone rings.
i screen the call & realize it's a telemarketer & i let it ring.
"Hello?" i hear downstairs, "Just a minute, i'll get her."
Sweetly smiling child brings me the phone... "It's for you mama, they called you Mrs. Beeezlt."
Nope... naps are a rare commodity these days. Maybe it's God's way of helping me get the most time in with my sweet little brood. Maybe it's one more thing that i should be looking on with gratitude...
There will be years for napping when i'm old and grey - and i'm sure that when those days come, my dreams will be full of this beautiful season...
Thursday, July 16, 2009
That's what she said...
Mollen: Charter! CHARTER!!! Come upstairs! i don't have any pants on and i want to show you something...
Neil: Hey, that's what mom always says to me...
*********************************************
Neil: Sloanie, what's this about trying to glue Charter's mouth shut?
(Charter is crying with glue smeared all over his mouth.)
Sloanie: Oh, that was totally Cai's idea. i wanted to glue his arms to the wall.
*********************************************
For my birthday from my children i received: from Charter: 4 fizzy coke bottles from Mac's, from Peyton: a teeny decorated magnifying glass from VBS, from Sloanie & Cai: a personalized birthday card on my computer made on paint when i came downstairs, from Mollen: a necklace her friend gave her, from the Whole Crew: a package of reeces pieces and enough 5 minute chocolate cake for our family desert, from Gage: all of his adoring affection.
How lucky am i? It was a good day.
Neil: Hey, that's what mom always says to me...
*********************************************
Neil: Sloanie, what's this about trying to glue Charter's mouth shut?
(Charter is crying with glue smeared all over his mouth.)
Sloanie: Oh, that was totally Cai's idea. i wanted to glue his arms to the wall.
*********************************************
For my birthday from my children i received: from Charter: 4 fizzy coke bottles from Mac's, from Peyton: a teeny decorated magnifying glass from VBS, from Sloanie & Cai: a personalized birthday card on my computer made on paint when i came downstairs, from Mollen: a necklace her friend gave her, from the Whole Crew: a package of reeces pieces and enough 5 minute chocolate cake for our family desert, from Gage: all of his adoring affection.
How lucky am i? It was a good day.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
this is the church i go to...
Hey, let me introduce us...
We're the broken - the sick - the lost - the dying...
We've struggled with death and disease, some of us have come here looking for answers, not knowing if we believe in heaven at all... some have become hard and calloused and don't even know why we're here Sunday after Sunday. Still others of us come because we need fellowship with other people who love Jesus...
Some of us are struggling with infertility, some of us have been cheated on, disrespected, abandoned by spouses who should have known better. Some of us have been happily married for decades. Some of us are lonely, guilty, shy, boisterous, bitter or happy. Some of us are reeling from circumstances that have spiraled far beyond our control.
This is the church that i go to...
Some of us mouth the words of the songs because our hearts would break if we *really* sang those words. Some of us are unemployed, former addicts, present day mess-ups, control-freaks or successful businessmen. Some of us are grieving our babies lost to miscarriage - others grieving our children lost to abortion - & still others are gratefully anticipating new life with swelling bellies and tearful gratitude.
This is the church i go to...
Our childhoods are as varied as the rest of our lives... Some were happy.... Some of us were neglected, abused, ignored, abandoned. Some of us were motherless, others fatherless - some of us got good grades & some of us are drop outs. Some of us still feel stuck in those years - the hurts won't heal & we come here looking for answers... looking for Jesus... so we can quit wasting away and start living.
This is the church i go to.
Some of us come straight from work, others from hellish, unimaginable situations, & some straight from a good night's rest... Some of us go home to empty houses, or warm lunches, or out to work again...
But on Sunday morning, we gather as a congregation...
We, who are daily becoming aware of our need...
Jesus.
He is the cup - and we are thirsty - parched, crawling and almost delirious with our need.
Jesus.
He is the bread - our frail bodies are wracked with hunger.
Jesus.
We're clinging to the cross...
This is the church i go to.
12On hearing this, Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. 13But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.'[a] For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." matthew 9:12&13
36When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. matthew 9:36
We're the broken - the sick - the lost - the dying...
We've struggled with death and disease, some of us have come here looking for answers, not knowing if we believe in heaven at all... some have become hard and calloused and don't even know why we're here Sunday after Sunday. Still others of us come because we need fellowship with other people who love Jesus...
Some of us are struggling with infertility, some of us have been cheated on, disrespected, abandoned by spouses who should have known better. Some of us have been happily married for decades. Some of us are lonely, guilty, shy, boisterous, bitter or happy. Some of us are reeling from circumstances that have spiraled far beyond our control.
This is the church that i go to...
Some of us mouth the words of the songs because our hearts would break if we *really* sang those words. Some of us are unemployed, former addicts, present day mess-ups, control-freaks or successful businessmen. Some of us are grieving our babies lost to miscarriage - others grieving our children lost to abortion - & still others are gratefully anticipating new life with swelling bellies and tearful gratitude.
This is the church i go to...
Our childhoods are as varied as the rest of our lives... Some were happy.... Some of us were neglected, abused, ignored, abandoned. Some of us were motherless, others fatherless - some of us got good grades & some of us are drop outs. Some of us still feel stuck in those years - the hurts won't heal & we come here looking for answers... looking for Jesus... so we can quit wasting away and start living.
This is the church i go to.
Some of us come straight from work, others from hellish, unimaginable situations, & some straight from a good night's rest... Some of us go home to empty houses, or warm lunches, or out to work again...
But on Sunday morning, we gather as a congregation...
We, who are daily becoming aware of our need...
Jesus.
He is the cup - and we are thirsty - parched, crawling and almost delirious with our need.
Jesus.
He is the bread - our frail bodies are wracked with hunger.
Jesus.
We're clinging to the cross...
This is the church i go to.
12On hearing this, Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. 13But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.'[a] For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." matthew 9:12&13
36When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. matthew 9:36
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The Story of my Conversion
i was 4.
Maybe 5.
i think that's about right, because i remember the house that we lived in, right around the time i was in kindergarten.
My sister Jessica, was my constant companion, my "key thing buddy", my playground protector & my teacher in the ways of the world. Only 19 months my senior and very tiny for her age, so quite likely smaller than me at that point, she was larger than life in my little world. She was 2 years ahead of me in school & along with my older sister Steph, she was already fluent in French, wise beyond belief, and incapable of doing wrong. In my eyes - my sisters were Queens to be revered and adored... & adore them i did.
My memories of them in childhood seem to get all bungled up & it's hard to remember exactly the stories and circumstances that have become so foggy with time... but some things stick out...
i remember Jessica teaching me how to skip on the way to kindergarten on a day when they were off school. That same day she taught me to whistle. Every single day from then on, i skipped and whistled all the way to kindergarten until the snow got too deep. i remember her sneaking me a piece of hubba bubba when i was crying in my room because my cat got run over. i remember her trading crafts with me because i wrecked mine - & then trading me back once she had fixed mine & i decided i liked it better after all. i remember all manner of forts, imaginary castles & clubhouses, faerie ponds and toques...
But i also remember the day we were hiding out together & she told me i needed to ask Jesus into my heart. i don't remember exactly what she said - or how we prayed... but i do remember her holding my tiny hands in her tinier ones & praying with me as i began the most important relationship i would ever have.
i have always remembered that moment as the moment that i "became a Christian". & i know - it sounds like a childish story... but isn't it beautiful that in those moments of simplicity - a truth was told to a small child - the smallest amount of faith was found - & my life was changed?
The words that we prayed were something like this,
"God, i know i'm a sinner... (how true this was, i probably didn't even know then...) i know that you sent your Son to die on the cross to save me. Please forgive me, and come into my heart to stay. i love you."
Over the years, i've never stopped looking up to my sisters & loving my Saviour.
No... my sisters weren't perfect... & yeh, i found out that they could actually do wrong... but ultimately their lives point to a Father who loves them & has forgiven them & who is shaping & molding them, just like He is me.
Maybe 5.
i think that's about right, because i remember the house that we lived in, right around the time i was in kindergarten.
My sister Jessica, was my constant companion, my "key thing buddy", my playground protector & my teacher in the ways of the world. Only 19 months my senior and very tiny for her age, so quite likely smaller than me at that point, she was larger than life in my little world. She was 2 years ahead of me in school & along with my older sister Steph, she was already fluent in French, wise beyond belief, and incapable of doing wrong. In my eyes - my sisters were Queens to be revered and adored... & adore them i did.
My memories of them in childhood seem to get all bungled up & it's hard to remember exactly the stories and circumstances that have become so foggy with time... but some things stick out...
i remember Jessica teaching me how to skip on the way to kindergarten on a day when they were off school. That same day she taught me to whistle. Every single day from then on, i skipped and whistled all the way to kindergarten until the snow got too deep. i remember her sneaking me a piece of hubba bubba when i was crying in my room because my cat got run over. i remember her trading crafts with me because i wrecked mine - & then trading me back once she had fixed mine & i decided i liked it better after all. i remember all manner of forts, imaginary castles & clubhouses, faerie ponds and toques...
But i also remember the day we were hiding out together & she told me i needed to ask Jesus into my heart. i don't remember exactly what she said - or how we prayed... but i do remember her holding my tiny hands in her tinier ones & praying with me as i began the most important relationship i would ever have.
i have always remembered that moment as the moment that i "became a Christian". & i know - it sounds like a childish story... but isn't it beautiful that in those moments of simplicity - a truth was told to a small child - the smallest amount of faith was found - & my life was changed?
The words that we prayed were something like this,
"God, i know i'm a sinner... (how true this was, i probably didn't even know then...) i know that you sent your Son to die on the cross to save me. Please forgive me, and come into my heart to stay. i love you."
Over the years, i've never stopped looking up to my sisters & loving my Saviour.
No... my sisters weren't perfect... & yeh, i found out that they could actually do wrong... but ultimately their lives point to a Father who loves them & has forgiven them & who is shaping & molding them, just like He is me.
Monday, July 13, 2009
She's so desperate...
Neil & i seem to be lovers, not fighters... except when it comes to that...
& even then... it seems that we're learning to cope with our differences & love seems to win over harsh words & tenderness over coldness.
We've always both been on the tender side with each other... both the babies of our families - peacemakers, companionable, comfortable, easy going... Each giving in when it seemed more important to the other - finding out we agree on more than we disagree on & that the middle ground wasn't too difficult to travel on...
My passion grounded by his realism... My artsiness made more beautiful by his practicality... My frustration reined in by his ability to see all sides of a situation. His sociableness stretches me, his generosity teaches me and his work ethic inspires me. i like to think that we're a perfect match...
i'm grateful for that... but i remember one fight we did have.
i remember feeling like i just wanted to hold my stubborn little body away from him.
There was a dissatisfied sadness looming over us & he went to go soak in the tub.
i remember the little battle in my own heart at that moment when i was about to learn a valuable lesson...
i felt like going... getting out of the house... showing him how frustrated i was... Running.
But i also felt...
Vulnerable... like i wanted him to hold me... & like i needed our *togetherness* more than anything. Staying.
In that moment, i decided to let love win.
i flung open the bathroom door & jumped into the tub with all my clothes on & held on with all my might.
Poor Neil... he laughed at me...
but i learned that i needed to let go of the personal space that i was withholding... i needed to let go of the things that divide & cling to the things that unite. While i knew (& i know) that that doesn't mean the resolution or the end of an argument... i found that even in the midst of a discussion i need to check my heart & make sure that love is always winning - not *me* - but love... i can't care if i look desperate, or crazy, or if i lose face - there's no score...
& so what if i am desperate?
There are some things that are worth being desperate over... & my magical marriage is one of them.
& even then... it seems that we're learning to cope with our differences & love seems to win over harsh words & tenderness over coldness.
We've always both been on the tender side with each other... both the babies of our families - peacemakers, companionable, comfortable, easy going... Each giving in when it seemed more important to the other - finding out we agree on more than we disagree on & that the middle ground wasn't too difficult to travel on...
My passion grounded by his realism... My artsiness made more beautiful by his practicality... My frustration reined in by his ability to see all sides of a situation. His sociableness stretches me, his generosity teaches me and his work ethic inspires me. i like to think that we're a perfect match...
i'm grateful for that... but i remember one fight we did have.
i remember feeling like i just wanted to hold my stubborn little body away from him.
There was a dissatisfied sadness looming over us & he went to go soak in the tub.
i remember the little battle in my own heart at that moment when i was about to learn a valuable lesson...
i felt like going... getting out of the house... showing him how frustrated i was... Running.
But i also felt...
Vulnerable... like i wanted him to hold me... & like i needed our *togetherness* more than anything. Staying.
In that moment, i decided to let love win.
i flung open the bathroom door & jumped into the tub with all my clothes on & held on with all my might.
Poor Neil... he laughed at me...
but i learned that i needed to let go of the personal space that i was withholding... i needed to let go of the things that divide & cling to the things that unite. While i knew (& i know) that that doesn't mean the resolution or the end of an argument... i found that even in the midst of a discussion i need to check my heart & make sure that love is always winning - not *me* - but love... i can't care if i look desperate, or crazy, or if i lose face - there's no score...
& so what if i am desperate?
There are some things that are worth being desperate over... & my magical marriage is one of them.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Poetry challenge...
See, i knew the sonnet would be coming to Minerva's poetry challenge at *some* point. i have this memory of trying to write in iambic pentameter in highschool & being a complete failure. Once again, i couldn't get the meter, but minerva encouraged me to post my poem anyway, saying it would just sound more 'fresh and modern' :) with my random meter. i'll take that. i did manage 10 syllables per line and i got the rhyming scheme right. My poem is about secrets in marriage - i can't even count the number of times that Neil or i have come to the other needing to 'get something out'. Marriage is a beautiful, safe place to do that - where your words will be sifted & where even if you say something 'wrong' - love will prevail.
In Secret
Alive, my secrets whisper'd in the dark;
i note with breakneck speed, my beating heart;
stops midstep - unsure - and in his face mark;
what feeling lies therein? Words stop... then start.
My secret swells and contracts between us;
Like a beating heart - no longer contained;
i lie still - (inside all's writhing, anxious)-
and wish fervently that she were still chained.
What obstacle would try to hold love back?
What worthy foe could ambush us and win?
Her pow'r when unspoken in inky black
dissipates now, becoming weak and thin.
Secrets crip'ling blow can only love cure;
at home where hearts are of each other sure.
************************************************
And just for fun, since i didn't post this one when she had her last poetry challenge, i'll post my "found poem" which is just a really fun way to say plagiarized writing... hehe. You can use anything for found poetry - a want ad, a newspaper article, rearranged music lyrics - etc. i chose to use an entry from a thesaurus.
Ever Adequate?
acceptable,
all right, capable, comfortable,
commensurate,
competent, decent, equal,
fair,
passable, requisite, satisfactory,
sufficient,
suitable, tolerable,unexceptional,
sufficing,
unobjectionable.
(content "found" on Thesaurus.com - synonyms for adequate)
*************************************************
As i found myself labouring over my sonnet, Neil came into the house & when i glanced up at him, i saw the house through his eyes. The breakfast dishes were still on the table, Gagey was running around in nothing but a diaper & it appeared i was sitting in my chair, doing... 'nothing'.
Guilt.
But, all at once, a different feeling rose in my chest.
My silly sonnet was important.
It was something that i was crafting for myself.
These were moments of time that i had carved out to try to create something. It didn't matter that my 3 quatrains with a rhyming couplet weren't going to earn me any money - or that for a few minutes my children were left to their own devices.
When i look back on my life, i feel sure that i would sacrifice an hour of cleaning for an hour of creativity. i pushed my guilt to the side & proceeded to do the dishes.
& after that...
i finished my Sonnet.
In Secret
Alive, my secrets whisper'd in the dark;
i note with breakneck speed, my beating heart;
stops midstep - unsure - and in his face mark;
what feeling lies therein? Words stop... then start.
My secret swells and contracts between us;
Like a beating heart - no longer contained;
i lie still - (inside all's writhing, anxious)-
and wish fervently that she were still chained.
What obstacle would try to hold love back?
What worthy foe could ambush us and win?
Her pow'r when unspoken in inky black
dissipates now, becoming weak and thin.
Secrets crip'ling blow can only love cure;
at home where hearts are of each other sure.
************************************************
And just for fun, since i didn't post this one when she had her last poetry challenge, i'll post my "found poem" which is just a really fun way to say plagiarized writing... hehe. You can use anything for found poetry - a want ad, a newspaper article, rearranged music lyrics - etc. i chose to use an entry from a thesaurus.
Ever Adequate?
acceptable,
all right, capable, comfortable,
commensurate,
competent, decent, equal,
fair,
passable, requisite, satisfactory,
sufficient,
suitable, tolerable,unexceptional,
sufficing,
unobjectionable.
(content "found" on Thesaurus.com - synonyms for adequate)
*************************************************
As i found myself labouring over my sonnet, Neil came into the house & when i glanced up at him, i saw the house through his eyes. The breakfast dishes were still on the table, Gagey was running around in nothing but a diaper & it appeared i was sitting in my chair, doing... 'nothing'.
Guilt.
But, all at once, a different feeling rose in my chest.
My silly sonnet was important.
It was something that i was crafting for myself.
These were moments of time that i had carved out to try to create something. It didn't matter that my 3 quatrains with a rhyming couplet weren't going to earn me any money - or that for a few minutes my children were left to their own devices.
When i look back on my life, i feel sure that i would sacrifice an hour of cleaning for an hour of creativity. i pushed my guilt to the side & proceeded to do the dishes.
& after that...
i finished my Sonnet.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
whoever taught molls...
the words for, "i like you so much better when you're naked." Should be punished.
Really.
Really.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
surfer boy
Tucking Charter in at night is a different type of affair. You have to watch out for flailing arms and legs as he flips & flops around his bed talking about everything that seems to be flailing around in his little mind... God, his special toys, food, games, sisters, pretend wars, his fear of having another night terror...
One night i came in & flopped down beside him.
"Charter, this part of my leg is tight, how do you think i could stretch it out?"
This is a question he obviously likes... He flips over to his back flinging his bare white legs over his head & inadvertently showing me his spiderman undies.
"Like this?" he questions.
i smile.
"That'll work."
i try his special move & he giggles - his huge grown up teeth still framed by spaces waiting to be filled with more teeth.
i want to remember this boy forever. With just a sprinkling of freckles covering his perfect nose, and his white blond surfer hair hanging down into his blue eyes. i want to carve this happy child into my brain & pull the memory out again when he is a big man with a receding hairline & a booming voice with children & grandchildren of his own. i want to etch out this imprint of my boy, my son - while he's still mine & i haven't yet given him to his blushing bride.
He has a perfect miniature six-pack & big broad man shoulders... His toenails are dirty & i should really tell him to go brush his teeth. He has a tan on his chest, but the tops of his little legs are as white as a fish's belly. He has his daddy's hands. When he was born, the nurses told me they looked like baseball mitts. He has a thin white scar running up his pinky finger where a bowling ball smashed it on Cai's 7th birthday. He has knobby skinny knees and muscly legs...
Together we quote Psalm 91. He has my tendency for volume...
Drink, pee, brush teeth... The drill...
Finally down to the business of blankets, dimmed lights & lowered voices...
Suddenly, he flings his skinny arms around my neck & it's like a chemical reaction & the memory is set in stone. His little boy smell, the feel of his warm & slightly sticky self pressed against me, his blond hair flying into my eyes, my nose, covering my lips.
The moment is mine forever - another tiny gem to add to my treasure trove of motherhood.
One night i came in & flopped down beside him.
"Charter, this part of my leg is tight, how do you think i could stretch it out?"
This is a question he obviously likes... He flips over to his back flinging his bare white legs over his head & inadvertently showing me his spiderman undies.
"Like this?" he questions.
i smile.
"That'll work."
i try his special move & he giggles - his huge grown up teeth still framed by spaces waiting to be filled with more teeth.
i want to remember this boy forever. With just a sprinkling of freckles covering his perfect nose, and his white blond surfer hair hanging down into his blue eyes. i want to carve this happy child into my brain & pull the memory out again when he is a big man with a receding hairline & a booming voice with children & grandchildren of his own. i want to etch out this imprint of my boy, my son - while he's still mine & i haven't yet given him to his blushing bride.
He has a perfect miniature six-pack & big broad man shoulders... His toenails are dirty & i should really tell him to go brush his teeth. He has a tan on his chest, but the tops of his little legs are as white as a fish's belly. He has his daddy's hands. When he was born, the nurses told me they looked like baseball mitts. He has a thin white scar running up his pinky finger where a bowling ball smashed it on Cai's 7th birthday. He has knobby skinny knees and muscly legs...
Together we quote Psalm 91. He has my tendency for volume...
Drink, pee, brush teeth... The drill...
Finally down to the business of blankets, dimmed lights & lowered voices...
Suddenly, he flings his skinny arms around my neck & it's like a chemical reaction & the memory is set in stone. His little boy smell, the feel of his warm & slightly sticky self pressed against me, his blond hair flying into my eyes, my nose, covering my lips.
The moment is mine forever - another tiny gem to add to my treasure trove of motherhood.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
what a difference a year makes....
Last year during our visit to Victoria, i was sitting at the far end of the table away from Neil, who was holding our sweet little baby on his lap while he was eating an ice cream treat. He was deep in conversation & as baby's fat hands reached up for his treat, Neil absently lowered his treat to baby's mouth to let him have a taste....
"NEEEEEEIIIIIIILLLLLLLL!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooo!!!!" i screamed as i lunged across the table, dishes & food scattering in all directions... (not really, but you'd think it was that funny if you heard it described by my brother in law who still teases me about my reaction...)
Neil looked at me completely perplexed.
"NO SOLIDS!!! & Especially NO DAIRY!!!!" i mooo'd... (having had children with respiratory problems, i was a bit of a stickler about the no dairy thing with my subsequent children... ) Neil kinda rolled his eyes & lifted the ice cream out of baby's grasp with a little, "i'm sorry, little guy, momma won't let me..."
i had a flashback to that moment last week as i was on the beach with my little toddling son. He had a fist full of sand in one hand & his mouth was full of rocks... i had already rescued him from eating a cigarette butt & someones old slurpee straw... Finally, i brushed the sand out of his hand & gave him a big cheesie to chew on to keep his hands & mouth otherwise occupied. The toxic orange colour of the styrofoam nutritionless treat brought back my memory of Neil's almost mistake & i started to laugh.
What a difference a year makes...
*sigh*
"NEEEEEEIIIIIIILLLLLLLL!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooo!!!!" i screamed as i lunged across the table, dishes & food scattering in all directions... (not really, but you'd think it was that funny if you heard it described by my brother in law who still teases me about my reaction...)
Neil looked at me completely perplexed.
"NO SOLIDS!!! & Especially NO DAIRY!!!!" i mooo'd... (having had children with respiratory problems, i was a bit of a stickler about the no dairy thing with my subsequent children... ) Neil kinda rolled his eyes & lifted the ice cream out of baby's grasp with a little, "i'm sorry, little guy, momma won't let me..."
i had a flashback to that moment last week as i was on the beach with my little toddling son. He had a fist full of sand in one hand & his mouth was full of rocks... i had already rescued him from eating a cigarette butt & someones old slurpee straw... Finally, i brushed the sand out of his hand & gave him a big cheesie to chew on to keep his hands & mouth otherwise occupied. The toxic orange colour of the styrofoam nutritionless treat brought back my memory of Neil's almost mistake & i started to laugh.
What a difference a year makes...
*sigh*
Monday, July 6, 2009
rejoicing
My mother-in-law always has the best stories. This week, as we stopped by their house, creating our little tornado of destruction on our way back home, she told us a story that has been sticking with me ever since...
She told us about a little lady who since she had been put in palliative care was constantly being asked by caring friends and relatives, "How are you?"
Her response has always been the same, "Oh, i'm rejoicing."
They made a little wooden sign for her room with that word on it.
What a beautiful reminder for me today - Sometimes the valley is bleak, long, painful -
But we will never lose our reason to ever be -
rejoicing.
She told us about a little lady who since she had been put in palliative care was constantly being asked by caring friends and relatives, "How are you?"
Her response has always been the same, "Oh, i'm rejoicing."
They made a little wooden sign for her room with that word on it.
What a beautiful reminder for me today - Sometimes the valley is bleak, long, painful -
But we will never lose our reason to ever be -
rejoicing.
Friday, July 3, 2009
running on holidays
i wondered if my weak self would just quit after i got bragging rights by running a 10k.
So, imagine how pleased i was when after i ran it... i felt like running... more.
But -
(Isn't there always some big fat lame but?)
Here's the story. At the very end of my race... i mean, i could see the finish line... suddenly, i noticed an ache start in my knee. i didn't think much of it & finished the race & on home & felt pretty normal that day (Sunday). The next day, i took off 'cause i wasn't feeling great - we had company & stayed up too late eating... & i thought i had earned a rest day, but by Tuesday i was ready to roll again. i put on my runners & hit the road. About a half mile into my run, my knee started to ache again. i shortened my run, & walked some & got home not even winded. Next day the same thing happened, so i took Thursday off. Friday i thought, 'Surely by now my knee is fine... '
Nope.
So, all my runs have been pretty short (2-3.5 miles) ever since my 'big run' - which really wasn't that big of a run at all & was something i had worked my way up to & had already done a couple of times before...
While here on our vacation, i've just done a couple of really short (but nice hilly) runs.
i'm hoping to get back a little more distance in the next couple of weeks before i lose everything that i worked up to.
Am i too old to learn a new trick?
Am i too much of a wimp to keep going despite a bit of an obstacle?
What will our hero do in the face of adversity?
i'm likely more curious than you are...
So, imagine how pleased i was when after i ran it... i felt like running... more.
But -
(Isn't there always some big fat lame but?)
Here's the story. At the very end of my race... i mean, i could see the finish line... suddenly, i noticed an ache start in my knee. i didn't think much of it & finished the race & on home & felt pretty normal that day (Sunday). The next day, i took off 'cause i wasn't feeling great - we had company & stayed up too late eating... & i thought i had earned a rest day, but by Tuesday i was ready to roll again. i put on my runners & hit the road. About a half mile into my run, my knee started to ache again. i shortened my run, & walked some & got home not even winded. Next day the same thing happened, so i took Thursday off. Friday i thought, 'Surely by now my knee is fine... '
Nope.
So, all my runs have been pretty short (2-3.5 miles) ever since my 'big run' - which really wasn't that big of a run at all & was something i had worked my way up to & had already done a couple of times before...
While here on our vacation, i've just done a couple of really short (but nice hilly) runs.
i'm hoping to get back a little more distance in the next couple of weeks before i lose everything that i worked up to.
Am i too old to learn a new trick?
Am i too much of a wimp to keep going despite a bit of an obstacle?
What will our hero do in the face of adversity?
i'm likely more curious than you are...
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
i've been wearing my wedding rings upside down...
i told Neil i didn't even want an engagement ring.
Maybe because my mom never had one - maybe because of the circumstances surrounding our engagement, i didn't think i deserved one. Regardless, Neil ignored me. He went shopping & found a little ring he could afford & when he proposed to me at the little fogged out dock i had always wanted to be proposed to at, he slipped it on my finger & asked me to be his wife.
It has kind of a funny shape & we had to get my wedding ring notched out so that they could fit together... but for those months between February & May when i was fighting morning sickness, taking my finals and missing Neil like crazy - he said he wanted me at least to be wearing his ring...
i was 20 weeks along by the time i finished school & came running home to marry my prince charming. Boy, did it ever feel good to have that wedding ring join my engagement ring on my finger... As much as i had tried to insist to Neil that i didn't want him to compound mistakes by marrying me - did it ever feel good when he silenced all of my doubts and fears with his excited anticipation of our wedding day & the birthday of our little daughter only a few months later...
Have i mentioned that i have the best husband in the world?
So, the other day, he was playing with my rings... & he slipped them off my finger & ceremoniously slipped them on again, upside down.
"That's the one i gave you first," he said as my little diamond made it's way to the bottom of my finger... "and *then* this one..." as my thicker wedding band slid down to join it.
My wedding bands have been catching my eye lately - in their topsy turvy state.
The symbol of our love & our vows made before God - 'till death do us part.
My whole engagement and marriage were put together upside down too...
What grace has my God that he has taken what was upside down & righted it - that He allowed us to make right what we chose to start wrong... That He didn't allow the consequences of our sin to drown us - but He rescued us from our own failings and allowed us to have something beautiful in place of rebellion and arrogance and ignorance.
May He continue to be our cloud and fire - and the central theme that draws us closer together.
Maybe because my mom never had one - maybe because of the circumstances surrounding our engagement, i didn't think i deserved one. Regardless, Neil ignored me. He went shopping & found a little ring he could afford & when he proposed to me at the little fogged out dock i had always wanted to be proposed to at, he slipped it on my finger & asked me to be his wife.
It has kind of a funny shape & we had to get my wedding ring notched out so that they could fit together... but for those months between February & May when i was fighting morning sickness, taking my finals and missing Neil like crazy - he said he wanted me at least to be wearing his ring...
i was 20 weeks along by the time i finished school & came running home to marry my prince charming. Boy, did it ever feel good to have that wedding ring join my engagement ring on my finger... As much as i had tried to insist to Neil that i didn't want him to compound mistakes by marrying me - did it ever feel good when he silenced all of my doubts and fears with his excited anticipation of our wedding day & the birthday of our little daughter only a few months later...
Have i mentioned that i have the best husband in the world?
So, the other day, he was playing with my rings... & he slipped them off my finger & ceremoniously slipped them on again, upside down.
"That's the one i gave you first," he said as my little diamond made it's way to the bottom of my finger... "and *then* this one..." as my thicker wedding band slid down to join it.
My wedding bands have been catching my eye lately - in their topsy turvy state.
The symbol of our love & our vows made before God - 'till death do us part.
My whole engagement and marriage were put together upside down too...
What grace has my God that he has taken what was upside down & righted it - that He allowed us to make right what we chose to start wrong... That He didn't allow the consequences of our sin to drown us - but He rescued us from our own failings and allowed us to have something beautiful in place of rebellion and arrogance and ignorance.
May He continue to be our cloud and fire - and the central theme that draws us closer together.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
LinkWithin
playlist
