i am a teetotaler

Here it is - my quirky subject matter - i can't edit it. So take what you like - ignore what doesn't apply & read about a small place in the current where i have no doubt in my mind that i'm supposed to stand. The current is strong - because there are so many, many smaller issues like this - where we choose differently... Your issues might be different than mine - but i think it's helpful to sometimes see things through the eyes of another.
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call me closed minded...
quote the story in the bible where Jesus turned the water into wine, or remind me of alcohol's medicinal quality. Call me a hypocrite because i still love my morning cup of java, or point to the skyrocketing obesity rates as a more dangerous addiction... but social drinking - or drinking by any other name...
it's not for me.
i have never had alcohol - i know 's a little shocking eh? It was never much of a temptation for me in high school when the drunken bush parties abounded and boys staggered or fought & girls lost their inhibitions... and more.
& now? - it tempts me less.
Maybe 'unwinding' doesn't seem that necessary - maybe there are some for whom, (it seems to me - as an observer), alcohol quiets that still small voice that was making them uncomfortable in the first place. Maybe a more appropriate response would be, "Speak. i'm listening."
Maybe i have seen too much drunkenness... or maybe i'm angry that there is so much pressure to conform to a social convention that preys on the weak & that i have no affinity for. & yeh... most might say they've never felt the pressure... i only had to meet one alcoholic to form my rather harsh sounding views...
Whatever the reason...
i am a teetotaler - & i can't see that ever changing.
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ps - i still love my social drinking friends - and husband - but i guess this post is the sigh that explains my, "no thank-you".

open hands

i know - my posts have been a little heavy lately. Sometimes life is like that - a little heavy...
i found myself in the shower - where i can catch a rare quiet moment some days - praying over some hard things & the thought flashed into my mind before i had the presence of mind to stop it, "Father - is there someone else's character that you could work on for a little bit?"

Kinda like the pot asking the potter if He really knows what He's doing...

As soon as i recognized the thought, i laughed at myself. Is my character really worth so little to me that I would ask Him to stop working on it for the sake of my comfort?
So i changed my tune... i said to Him.... "No Father - If you could scratch that last part... i didn't mean it. Whatever you've got for me, Bring It On... Less of me - More of you."
& i mean it.
Maybe it will be painful - or maybe it will be miraculous. i'm not without hope... but whatever joy or sorrow comes - i want to accept it gratefully from His hands...

In moments of clarity

i realize just how broken i am. i see how my failures impact everyone around me - & how my lack of character costs them...
In moments of clarity - i snuggle closer to the tiny form huddled under my covers in the space usually filled by my husband. i curl my body around my little boy's warmth, and inhale his sweetness.
In moments of clarity - i miss Neil so bad that i'm pretty sure it's a sin. i ache for him with a longing that leaves me full of sadness.
In moments of clarity - i'm immobilized.
Today - i was cleaning up. Arms full of toys books, pens, paper, a little sweater, a tea towel...
& a moment of clarity hit.
i stood for just a moment - then flung my burden - (yes - flung it) to the ground. i fairly stumbled to my piano - & played the song before me...

There Is A Redeemer.

Redeem me, Jesus. Pay my ransom and restore my worth.
Use my moments of clarity to draw me deeper into your embrace...

too chicken

so -
i found i am too chicken to post what i wrote for today (that i alluded to in yesterday's comments). It'll have to join my other ghost 'draft' posts for the time being.
i often do this...
i write when i feel impassioned & edit when i'm not (except i only edit posts that require a bit of gentleness).
i try to choose my words carefully.
So - maybe one day it'll make it to the publish page - & maybe it wasn't worth writing in the first place.
i'll let you know.

the current

The current -
Threatens to overwhelm.
mid thigh - in deep waters, i'm certain that
one
more
step -
will cause me to lose ground - or worse - to lose my footing completely and in my exhaustion i'll be swept away in the waters that wash now around my legs in angry foaming curls.
Oh God - spare me a life being swept in the current - give me what i need to stand - bare feet on a slippery rock bottom - hands upraised to balance, or plead for deliverance.
This current - is relentless. The water never stops coming - it's tireless and unmeasurable.
Maybe it's only a matter of time till i slip beneath it's cunning pressure. It's easy to forget in my panic - the price that was paid by the One who asks me to stand - in this precarious position...
so, till i slip - or am rescued -
till i'm washed away - or given a firm place to rest -
till the waters rise to cover me - or recede and die -
i'll stay midstream - standing against the current.

being vulnerable

it's uncomfortable.
to say to my Father 'use me, use me' - and being ok when He doesn't...
Or to be put in a situation that makes the blush burn my cheeks - but to whisper, 'i wanna obey...' & speak truth to raw grief, to pray to Someone i know - awkwardly for someone i don't...
To wonder why He uses me in my weaknesses - and sometimes not in my strengths.
God is interesting - and i think He wants me to just. be. willing...
Willing to wait -
willing to speak -
willing to be silent -
willing to take action -
willing to say yes -
or no -
willing - & constantly... achingly... vulnerable.

i'm working on a song...

and even though i know in my heart what it's about -
i can't for the life of me put it into words.
words seem to fail me a lot these days.
it's all tiny grasping fingers - comforting meetings between me and my littlest friends in the night and watching the shades of black shift to grey as i wish for just a few more hours of sleep... i'm in a season of clinging toddler arms, folding big heavy bodies on my lap and not saying a word because maybe they won't want to climb on my lap next week. My days are full of reading - and being read to, of math and correcting writing samples. There's no end to the food being prepared and consumed - both the physical, spiritual and emotional kinds of nourishment... It's no wonder that words have deserted me - it's all gratitude, emotion and fleeting images... but still - this little song keeps begging to be written... The music came easily - the theme - even the title...
But it's the threads of ideas that seem impossible to sort into any kind of a semblance of order.
Can i ask you a question?
What does it mean to you - to be, "used by God"...?

the earlier flight...

As soon as i hear of the possibility of an earlier flight - i cling to it with a death grip. Some trips more than others...
The early flights are outnumbered by their evil twin - the delayed or cancelled flight - but they are still common enough for the idea of them to sit idle at the back of my mind till the mention of him coming home an hour, an afternoon, a day early - makes my ears ring & i find i can't wipe that goofy grin off my face.
i don't know why i miss him so much... i'm pretty sure he doesn't miss me... that big tired man...
But he's mine - & miss him i do.
There's something about just being together - under one roof - that makes me feel like i'm complete again.

it's gross when...

Cai & i were laying on my bed...
A couple of introverts trying to figure out how to unravel our frazzled little minds.
i was staring straight ahead at a blogpost i'm sure makes no sense.
She was brushing her hair.
"Mom?"
"Hm."
"It's gross when you're 14 years old and you're brushing your hair & you realized there's food in it."
Well yes, i guess it is.

Prayer Request

Every Sunday at church it seems that someone approaches Neil, or shouts to him as he's leaving, or greets him as he picks up the littles, or starts a conversation with him as he snuggles a baby in the nursery with, "Have a good trip Neil!!!!"
i think he thought it was me - telling everyone he was going, but finally he realized that word of his travel was getting out in the children's prayer time.
Charter - who has to be reminded every. single. morning to brush his teeth - without fail remembers to request prayer for his dad every time a trip is pending.
Neil was starting to get a little annoyed by the attention so finally after church one day he said gruffly, "Charter! Quit telling everyone i'm leaving every time i'm going on a trip!"
"Oh Dad, don't be embarrassed LOTS of kids pray for their parents." Charter smiled genuinely at his daddy.
i guess neil will just have to suck it up.

grief questions...

My friend wrote a post forever ago with questions about grief - the questions are specific to losing a baby, but i think that looking at grief can be a valuable thing - no matter what it is we're grieving... health, the absence of justice, lack of love...
Grief is universal - and yet we each experience it so uniquely.
i took the questions and answered them, but never got around to posting them here, until now.

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I want to know if you think about them often.
i think about them often - together - & separately too. Sometimes as i'm drifting off to sleep. Sometimes it's just a peaceful knowledge that all will be well - & sometimes it's a random heartbreaking memory. There are little things i have intentionally placed in our home so that i have carved out a place to honour the memory of those 2 lives that deeply impacted me. i have a tiny baby quilt that Ephraim uses that i made after i lost caleb, i have a piece of art that Neil bought me when i was pregnant with Hope. i have their names on a necklace that i wear - & their memorial certificates on my bedroom wall & a picture of the terrible beauty in the sky the night that we found out that Caleb had gone Home. My sister took it and sent it to me...

I want to know what reminds you of them.
*Yorkton Saskatchewan. Caleb is my only child delivered in the same province that i was born in.
*Mayfair - that's where Hope's ultrasound happened.
*Jason Upton's music,
*the song _i surrender all_,
*other women who say, "pheuf, i made it through the first trimester" - because Caleb did too - & because Hope didn't.

I want to know what you remember most about that pregnancy.
Both of them - finding out i was pregnant. They each came at a time in my life when i longed for a baby. i'm so grateful i journaled through Hope's short pregnancy... it was pure joy. i wrote in there, "even while i'm getting sick every morning, i can't wipe the smile off my face..." - i'm so glad that my journal was full of gratitude.

I want to know if their siblings remind you of them.
We thought Caleb looked like Cairo when he was born. He was still so tiny though - & with Hope it was impossible to guess about features... but in my mind, Caleb would have been a cross between Cairo & Charter...
But the siblings that remind me *most* of Caleb & Hope are Sloanie & Gagey - the 2 born to me after each loss. i wish i could have kept them all...

What do you think their personality would be?
Sometimes... when i let my imagination go... i imagine them to be something like my friend Fawne's Wyatt. He was missing a tiny bit of one chromosome - & yet even with all the issues that his little body faced - he was so sweet & uncomplaining. i hope that no matter what happened with my 2 little ones - they would have the sweetness that Wyatt had.

What do you look forward to the most in seeing them someday?
Won't it be amazing to have everyone... all together?

Are there certain dates that seem to hit the hardest?
Funny enough - their dates cross in both February - and in September. It's not a specific date that hits the hardest - it's those days surrounding *the dates* in those 2 months.
Mothers day - that would be the day that i struggle with... because i'm reminded of what i lost.

What were you expecting in grief and how did it surprise you?
i didn't know it would be so solitary. It's not the same for men & women - & it's certainly unique to every individual.
Grief... is lonely.

What did you learn through their life and death... and through the pain that follows?
"Time heals" sounds so trite, & yet there is a depth to that truth. Having Caleb & Hope changed everything for me. i'm a different girl than i would have been, had they not come. Their brief lives sharpened my desire for Heaven - & eternal things. They challenged my views on children - and motherhood - and forced me to examine what i truly believe.
i'm so grateful i got the opportunity to mother them - and to continue to mother them from afar - as i journey Home too.

in the absence of unity

In the absence of unity -
*remember the things that unite you still.
*let love win.
*destroy the seeds of bitterness with an outpouring of gratitude.
*bear with one another.
*pray for unity - patiently - even if you never see it with earthly eyes.
*keep hope alive.
*remember humility - and never lose sight of the fact that we only see with earthly eyes - there is so much that we miss... the reality is, that no matter how sure we think ourselves... we could be wrong.
*let truth matter so. much. more than perceptions.

i think i am coming to believe that God allows for seasons of the absence of unity - to grow us. Could it be that our growth is worth the discomfort of hanging in a precarious balance between harmony and discord?
My list seems so small - and yet the arsenal of weapons to use against bitterness and hatred must be so large...
Father - expand my repertoire... let Love win in my life. Let me better understand that Truth has won already - that battle was never mine.
Conquer my heart - and let me be used to bring You glory.

i'll take a little cribbylude

"Hey,Cai - what're ya makin' - cribbylude?"
Neil grins at her & just from the angle i'm at, i see the confusion on her face - with just the slightest twinge of recognition at that old, well used word.
Wasn't it just yesterday that little cotton haired girl would bring me her tiny blue metal pot and offer me some fresh home made cribbylude? i would smell her offering, oohing and ahing at the delicious aroma, and ask for a large portion. She would scrape some out onto a tiny chipped china plate, and go back to work, furiously stirring and adding random imaginary ingredients to her pot... making batch after batch... of cribbylude.
It was the accompanying dish at every tea party. Sloanie loyally helped her prepare it as they pretended to be a mommy and a daddy, an orphaned sibling group, or princesses cowed by a wicked step mother.
& then there was a gradual shift - the little blue pot was sometimes replaced with larger kitchen tools. The ingredients were sometimes real - and her little hands learned to carefully sift them together to make bread, buns, cookies or pies. Cribbylude wasn't on the menu as often as it once was.
And now - as that word passes Neil's lips - i feel my heart race... just a touch - and i look at her face. Her cheeks are pink, and she's rushing through supper so she can pack up her guitar for a practice. Her eyes are still enormous - and impossibly blue - but her cotton hair is tamed and her outfit is clean... My wild haired girl from years gone by flashes before my eyes. Always in a cotton dress with bruises covering her white legs in the summer - or thick brightly coloured tights in the winter. Her nails used to be chewed to the bone - even her stubby toenails. In my minds eye - that wispy little girl holds up a pot of cribbylude for me to admire.
She screws her brows, "Is that the food i used to pretend to make when i was little?"
Yeah... i guess it was...
& am i ever hungry for a taste of it tonight...

the cold

neil asked me why i'm a little blue.
it's strange for me to be blue - it's not really in my nature - but i have been.
i told him i wondered if maybe it is the cold.
i'm used to the cold... but it wears on me sometimes. You know that cold where you take a deep breath to run outside & then find that when you exhale, your body refuses to inhale the icy air that it finds itself in. You feel the pinpricks of painful frostiness on any tiny piece of exposed flesh - and if you don't keep moving, the cold creeps in through your layers of clothes - cooling your body right down to a dull ache in your bones. Your eyes water and you feel like your lashes will fall right off.
Inside what should be the warmth of your house, you keep a sweater on to ward off the chill that relentlessly tries to creep in - you see the ice begin to build up on your windows & would swear that there is no insulation in your walls that are frigid to the touch.
Your vehicle still isn't warm by the time you get to the grocery store - and in the time it takes you to load up your groceries, your lettuce is frozen.
Reprieve,
Chinook,
Sunshine,
Melt - even just for a moment.
Fresh air - moistened with a warm breath of the spring that will come...
remind me....

the danger zone...

A few days ago, a blog commenter left a thoughtful comment on my post about 'Why i think having another baby is prolife'.
i hope it's ok if i post my response here - because it niggled and wiggled at my conscience for a few hours before i was able to put my finger on the part of her comment that gave me pause. i'll post that paragraph here verbatim, just so that i don't misquote:

I think it can be dangerous to encourage some couples to just keep having children. I have seen some mothers who, in my opinion, are barely mentally or physically able to handle the children they have. Yet they get caught up in some their friend's (who they admire) thinking that if they are following God's will, they must not control how many children they have.

i think i should probably clarify here that i didn't intend for my post to relay the message that if couples are following God's will, they must not control how many children they have. Perhaps i misworded something - or maybe she's reading into some of the other things i have posted on here and jumped to that conclusion - but it was certainly not my aim. But even that misunderstanding isn't what was bothering me...
It was the word dangerous.
i think the ideas that follow that word in that paragraph, are fairly mainstream thinking; that we need to be able to handle what we've got before we take on anymore. It's just that this type of thinking gets us measuring those around us - judging their capacity - in our own opinion, rather than trusting that God knows what He's doing when He breathes life. We often misjudge our own selves too... thinking we're unable when God has something much greater in mind. i'm sure this way of thinking would have excluded Rahab the harlot from the lineage of Christ - or a young unmarried teen from being the mother of Jesus... but in God's wisdom - there was no such exclusion.
The word dangerous reminds me of that time in history when Pharaoh was allowed to hold God's people in slavery - surely there are few times in history when it would have been more dangerous to have a baby... but God didn't withhold childbearing from His people to protect them from their inability to mentally or physically handle the children they had.
No.
He chose that time to bless them even *more*. The midwives who chose to disobey the Pharaoh's orders to kill the Hebrew boys? - He blessed them with more children of their own. One of the reasons the Israelites were so hated and feared by the Egyptians was because of their ever increasingly large numbers.
We live in a day & age where birth control is socially acceptable - both in and outside of the church walls - for any reason - or no reason at all...Really - the whispered encouragement to think about the gift of childbearing can barely be heard above the roar calling for planning our parenthood...
There's a big part of me that wonders if gently encouraging men and women - married couples - to rethink their preconceived notions about the perfect number of children doesn't go hand and hand with the job outlined for the older women in Titus 2. Because isn't making a baby an expression of love to your husband? Isn't an openness to the possibility of having another child showing that we have a capacity to love? The older women are to "...teach what is good. Then they can train the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind..."
i hope this comes across as gently as i intend it to, because goodness knows i wish i had a lot more wisdom and clarity on this topic. But i felt like it was a word worth making note of - and deserving of it's own post in defence of encouragement.
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Carol - thank you for reading my blog & for posting your comment - even though i don't know you, you have encouraged me so many times. i hope you don't mind me disecting your comment a bit!

technical difficulties... and alone time

i took my silly computer in to the shop again to see if maybe there isn't something they haven't tried yet to recover the pictures they lost.
Not having my computer - with my familiar little keyboard with the missing number 3 - has made it all but impossible to blog.
But i will steal a moment at an unfamiliar white keyboard that makes satisfying clicking noises as i type, to tell you how i found myself this week - wanting a holiday.
i think i used to feel this urge in a more pressing way. In my twenties - i often felt lonesome and solitary as Neil worked his seemingly eternal shifts and i tended to tiny mouths and bums. That's when i first noticed this funny little urge. It's not the kind of feeling that can be abated with a dinner out - or a quiet walk... it's the kind of feeling that shouts for hours to ones self - sleeping in - eating alone - and reading without interruption.
i was new to the selflessness that motherhood required. i remember some of the first incredible messes i was faced with - tiny ones covered in sick - with sheets and floors to clean in the middle of the night - looking around myself and realizing that it was up to me to make it go away. These are the types of instances that bring on that queer 'holiday' ache.
Now, i imagine myself to be a little more mature - a little better prepared to lay down my own wants and desires for the needs of another... but still - that uninvited guest occasionally makes an appearance.
i know that part of it is this societal pressure to crave pleasure - and disdain work, but i recognize too in my weakness - my humanity - & i know that it's ok to feel like i wanna run every once in awhile.
& so - sometimes i'll choose to be gentle with myself.
This morning - that's how i felt.
Still in my pj's when school started - my voice hoarse from a long night with too many interruptions to count...
"Father..."
i prayed.
"You know... how tired i am. Please help me to be a better mama than i am able..."
Charter leaped to my defence - maybe sensing in my prayer my utter weariness...
"Momma, you're asking God for something impossible! Nobody could be a better mom than you!"
& in the sweetness of our prayer time - i laid down my exhaustion - my desire to run - my awaying ache...
i pressed into my Father's heart - and sensed His love for the little ones in my care - and for me too - as i care or them.
& it doesn't make me less tired - or more able -
but i recognize His hand in my situation and i know that what he has me doing is worthwhile.
& so i'll press on.

What's that spell??

You know you have chosen the wrong selection of Chaucer to illustrate the differences between modern english and 'old' or 'middle' english - when your 12 year old looks at you innocently only a couple of lines in and asks if they're pronouncing the word, "arse" correctly.
i always *always* pre read. i have NO idea how this particular excerpt about a 'nest of friars in the arse of the devil' escaped that rule... As it was - they had already begun to read it by the time i snatched it from her hand and bit my cheeks as i read silently to keep from laughing out loud. And, so - maybe in my unpreparedness, i made a bad choice, but when they asked, i let them continue - finishing the piece as it's antiquity heightened it's hilarity and the table exploded in fits of giggles.
In the end, i'm glad this funny little snippet somehow escaped my usual pre-reading. It taught my howling crew that despite the differences in our time period and language - humour remains the same.
Thanks, Chaucer, molls is still snickering.

blog that...

Neil was organizing his thoughts as he spoke out loud. As he talked, he referred to someone as an "escape goat". Without looking up, i muttered, "scapegoat".
"What??" he asked sharply.
"It's not an escape goat. The term you are referring to is a scapegoat."
"No it's not." he argued.
i grabbed the computer on the bed between us and googled "escape goat" - all the results changed the phrase to scapegoat. Except one.
"Ha!" He pointed to the lone result that kept the phrase as i had typed it in the search box.
Quickly we scanned the accompanying description. It was from the Urban Dictionary, and gave this definition for escape goat:
"A slang used by idiots who do not realize the term is scapegoat."
"Dare you to blog that tomorrow..." he said when we stopped laughing.
Done and done...

why i think having another baby is prolife...

i once compiled a possible 'do' list for people who wanted to act on behalf of life.
i included things like posting a comment on the Alberta Prolife website, visit a seniors home, buy a gift for a new baby, pray for your local hospital - and it's administration...
and i included on that list the suggestion -

"Decide to have another baby..."

And i had a few people wrinkle their brows and ask me how having another baby could possibly fit on that list with writing letters to members of government and monetary donations to prolife organizations that are having an impact. Maybe it did seem out of place, but to be honest - it was my favourite suggestion. Partly because i think it cuts to the very heart of the matter; embracing life.
i have attended board meetings for various prolife groups over the years - i have read their websites and linked to their articles. i read impassioned pleas for change - that are grounded by scientific evidence; and yet watched the prolife movement in our country (and our neighbour to the south) make little if any progress.
i can't help but feel that it's because we're facing a heart issue.
We say that 'children are a blessing' - but it seems to carry no weight because most of us who are physically able and in our chilbearing years, are actively trying to avoid pregnancy.
& here i'll confess - i'm afraid to post this because i worry that you'll think i'm self righteous or proud... i'm not... i'm messed up, inadequate, and often mistaken. i'll add to that confession by telling you a secret - if i could stop believing that we should be more open to allowing God to grow our families - my life would be a lot easier... but to reject this idea would be too dishonest...
& i find i just can't.

life is a little less scary...

...now that yum can climb up - and down - the stairs so carefully.
i was hiding upstairs when he found me. He had escaped his daddy's watchful eyes, and had come looking for me - because i am the one he loves best.
He looks so tiny as he climbs the last step to reach me and the little sound he makes is a different language than i speak, but without a doubt the message is, "pick me up."
i wanna play with my tiny dolly, so i plop him on my bed and crawl around peeping up at him from all sides, but his teary blue eyes just follow me around and he cries piteously till i give up on our peek-a-boo game and cuddle him in my arms again.
Satisfied, he plucks at my thumb and traces his scratchy little nails along the palm of my hand.
"i like you." i whisper.
His blue eyes echo my thoughts.

to keep on...

i often feel like whatever i'm doing isn't enough - isn't adequate - just won't *do*...
Since school started in the fall, we have been persevering with our little routine -& part of that routine is reading a chapter from the Bible every morning. When we finish one book, we have just moved on to another - sometimes from the pastor's sermon series - sometimes just on a whim...
& it's not a lot - a tiny little chapter. Sometimes hurriedly read over the din - sometimes torn apart and discussed in detail... And yesterday morning, it felt like it just wasn't enough. i longed for some time to take in great big draughts of it - in big gulps - rather than in tiny sips.
Not enough.
i felt like my efforts were too little to be impactful.
Not only did i desperately want my little ones to see Jesus... but *i* wanted to see Him too... and i felt a little bit defeated.
But i sense that my reflex to despair isn't from my Father.
When i lift my chin - i look back on all those months since the end of August; and all those years since we started teaching our little ones. i see the books of the Bible piling up - as the habit of our morning meeting becomes more firmly ingrained. We're building on the habits from years gone by too- of pulling out God's word and reading it - taking the time to tuck it carefully in our hearts. Our time of training isn't limited to what is accomplished in a day - or a week - or even a year. The tiny grains of truth will pile up on each other and over time. The habit bringing in each fruitful sip - will yield more than the seasons where we will get the chance to take in big gulps of truth.
& so take my habits, Father - help me form the purposefully so that over time each tiny thread will tie us closer to You.

and to start again...

For at least a week, i'd have had a hard time telling you what day it was...
The holidays landed funny - we were travelling - and days and nights merged into one big sleepless mess.
And then to wake - on a Monday morning...
and to know - it's Monday morning...
Feels so right - and so wrong all at the same time.
Neil made our coffee strong this morning, and as i type this in a hurried stolen chunk of time at 9:46am, waiting for Charter to bring me his language arts - i'm reminded that there is hard work ahead.
As we prayed this morning - i wonder if my Father heard the tremor in my voice as i asked Him to help us to learn, find direction, and succeed in this second half of the year. i asked Him to help my children desire knowledge - because i know i don't have enough desire for all of us.
Tic toc - my 5 minutes are up - more tomorrow.

on resolutions...

Sometimes i'm surprised to find out i'm on the outs for certain things...
"What?? We have to call thongs 'flip flops' now 'cause a thong is a WHAT??"
"They're not knickers? i have to call them 'capri's'?"
"Nobody else on the planet likes cottage cheese?"
& i'm confused in my solitude - to realize that i'm in the minority.
i guess resolutions are kinda like that - i have found that most people either ignore them - or even more so, have a strong dislike for them.
& i'm sure it must be something small, like the texture that turns people off of cottage cheese.. but for me?
i like the funny texture of cottage cheese -
& i like choosing some little thing - and making it my personal lighthouse.
& maybe it's because so much of my life is taken up striving for the goals for others - helping all the little ones progress through their grades in school - keeping Neil's little kingdom orderly - helping babies learn to walk & talk... but there's something that feeds my soul when i say to myself, "And for you, paige - for YOU, i'm gonna try to figure out how to get your little novel published..."
Underneath it all, i do struggle with an unwillingness to admit that i could be worth a little bit of time and effort. & yeh, there's usually a fairly decent chance that i might not successfully complete my resolutions - but they help me get moving, to look up and see a bigger picture, to learn to try again & again...
& sometimes - they might push me to do more than i thought i could...

'eleven

Eleven things i like about being home...
1.) Our bed is king sized... which is good 'cause when 2 little princes climb in, we need the room.
2.) i'm just quiet - not obsessing about being antisocial.
3.) My ebony friend - who felt like making music when i got home.
4.) My littles have exhaled - & seem more themselves... 'cept peyts who ran immediately to her friend's house.
5.) i know where the spoons are.
6.) i can turn up or down the heat.
7.) i can blog... till Neil tells me to get off... like he's doing right now...
8.) i know where Ephraim can roam around without wrecking anything.
9.) i can hide.
10.) i can start planning our startin' up again routine.
11.) All of my very best friends... are at home here too.