siblings

I love my little ones... like, I crazy love them.
I walked past my son in the kitchen tonight. He was getting advil because his teeth were hurting pretty bad from his braces. He is almost my height now - and as I pass him, he seems like a man.
He's more like me than like his dad. His hair is fair - and he talks too much and feels so deeply.
I stall him... I ask him about school, about his friends, about his faith... but in moments, his little sister is hissing up the stairs, "Charter! What's taking you so long?"
I should have known she wouldn't be asleep yet...
She peeks up the stairs and sees me. She smiles and climbs into my arms.
Her hair is like silk except for the tiny piece where best friend's mom sewed a feather in it. She still fits under my chin - even though she's tall for nine.
And I know they're tired... they need to go to bed... but I wrap one arm around my boy... and one around his littlest sister. They pull in close - and awkwardly tuck their other arms around their own body.
"No." I whisper insistently... "Each other too..."
And they do.
We're wrapped in a little huddle - just the three of us - and I can't help but burst into prayer.
I get one line in - and we hear a whimpering wail from downstairs... the little brothers have discovered their big siblings are missing.
They laugh - and they break our sacred huddle and tiptoe down the stairs whispering reassurances in sleepy tones.
And I?
I feel the emptiness of arms that want to grab hold of those two siblings and make them see the precious thing that they sometimes treat with scorn...
Oh babies... can you see how each of you has been gifted to the others? Do you understand how much these relationships mean? Will you throw them away like trash? Or could it be... that when my arms are laid to rest... it will be in the arms of your brothers and sisters that you will find comfort?
And this mama wants to absorb each hurt that you inflict on each other, because, my precious babies? They're not as big as you imagine them to be.
And this mama wants to reinvent bad habits - I want to make you smile at the one who drives you nuts, compliment the one who makes you jealous, be generous to the one who always seems to take...
But I can't do any of that. Because these relationships aren't mine to orchestrate or manipulate or force... no, these relationships are YOUR gifts.
And so I watch - smiling when you work together, laughing when you play together... crying when I see you making music together... cheering when you stand up for each other, weeping when I see you dancing, worshipping, praying together ... drenched in hope when I see your secret friendships forged with laughter... but then begging mercy for the one who shouldn't have done it - pleading grace for the one who doesn't deserve it...
I know i'm a hot mess as a mama (and wife - and human being)... but the one thing... *the one thing* that I have going for me - is that I don't think it would be possible for any other mama to love you all more than I do - and the best thing that I know to give you - the ones that I love so desperately...
Is each other.
Treat each other well.

elmer's birth

He's here.
i'm not very on the ball these days, but I want to blog his birth story before I forget all the little details that are already sifting through my fingertips like fine sand.
I carried Elmer past the ultrasound due dates...

We're having a baby today! 40 weeks 5 days.

I was comfortable and content. We had the due dates padded on my paperwork, and so I never felt rushed or that I was running out of time like i had when i carried Ephraim so long. Right before I hit my due dates, my joints decided to get ready to have baby and went all loose and made walking funny and awkward. I also got carpal tunnel in my hands - something I had never experienced before - and so the last tiny bit that I carried him, was a little more tender and ploddingly slow (but not unbearable by any stretch).
i'm not sure what day I first noticed that I might be leaking fluid, but since I've never leaked before, I pushed the idea out of my head. It continued though, and Tuesday night I noticed I was starting to get some contractions. They were very light and mild though and were easy enough to fall asleep in the midst of. I woke in the morning and didn't experience many more, but the leaking continued. I kind of argued with myself that if I was leaking, surely the few contractions would be enough to push me into real labour - as my labours have often begun with spontaneous rupture of membranes followed immediately by the onset of labour.
Neil had been travelling and was finally home on Tuesday night, so I told my body that it was ok to go into labour... that we could go now if all was ready. i knew he was going to be flying out early on Sunday morning, and i really wanted him to be there.  I had hoped that I would carry baby till he was finished his last trip - as I know how challenging those first post partum days can be - especially flying solo... but I had long ago surrendered the timing of my little one's birth to my Heavenly Father - and I trusted that He knew best.
Tuesday night and Wednesday i had lots of show, with only a few mild contractions. i kept thinking that one little thing could push me over the brink into real labour... but nothing ever seemed to do it. Overnight Wednesday night, i was leaking enough that i started to wonder in earnest if it really could be my amniotic fluid... and then i started to wonder if it was my amniotic fluid, how long had it been broken? i had tested GBS positive for the first time ever this pregnancy and the thought of having broken waters for days on end made me uncomfortable so i called my midwife in the morning and told her what had been happening. By then, (of course - isn't that how it always is?) the leaking quit - and she was concerned that because of the show, the test strips might not be very accurate anyway - but she wanted me to keep in touch if symptoms continued.
It ended up being a really busy day. My older kids had exams in Okotoks and Neil had meetings - i ended up being busy all day.  By the time i got home, i was feeling restless and a little frustrated. i sat down at the kitchen table to work on a tiny bench i was going to paint for our bathroom, and i felt another very tiny leak of fluid, so i picked up the phone and called my midwife again. She suggested we meet at the clinic and she would see if the swab came back positive for amniotic fluid.
We drove to the clinic - and i hoped furiously that my water was still intact and that i could just go home and wait in peace. There wasn't even enough moisture to require wearing a pad after all, and i really hoped that the restless unease was just the end of pregnancy jitters. When we got to the clinic, my midwife noted that i wasn't wearing a pad and gave me some hope that all was well, but when she swabbed, it immediately turned a deep blue confirming what i already knew deep down - that i had some kind of a rupture and that our little one was going to be needing to be encouraged to come sooner rather than later.
Discouraged, i looked at my midwife and sighed, "What now?"
i had been counting on avoiding the antibiotics by having one of my usual quick births - but now with the increased risk of ruptured membranes, i wasn't willing to decline the antibiotics any longer.
We talked about it, and i felt a ton of peace and trust - which is so rare for me - in taking the antibiotics and also an "induction smoothie" whose active ingredients are lemon verbena and castor oil. It was funny to run out to Neil's truck and tell him the midwife needed him to go get some supplies.
"Ok," he responded, turning the ignition, "What do i need?"
"She wants you to go to the grocery store and get peanut butter and orange juice."
"Um, for real?"
"Yeah... we're makin' a smoothie."
So he did - and then she made him mix it up too using their special recipe - and he felt very useful. It wasn't gross at all - lemon, peanut butter and orange juice make it palatable and i guzzled it down and watched the midwife start an IV for the antibiotics.
Within the hour (around 5:45pm), we were headed home with instructions not to wait too long. My midwife was as convinced as we were that with just the tiniest push, my labour would fly out of control and we wanted to be sure to have enough time to make it to the birthing center.
The one thing that made me kind of sad was the fact that it was the night of Sloanie's violin recital. We talked about going to the recital, and just leaving if we had to - or different ways that we could make it work... but in the end, we decided that we were just going to have to miss it. We called Sloanie and she didn't skip a beat - just assured us that it was fine - and she was excited for the imminent arrival of her sweet baby brother.
We arrived home, and Sloanie had fed her siblings as Cai had been at work until i called her and asked tentatively, "Think you could get out of work tonight and come with?" (Her friend George volunteered to work overtime so my chicky could come home, and so I owe a debt of gratitude to an employee of Dairy Queen who I haven't met yet).  Peyton volunteered to babysit the rest of our crew since she had come to Ephraim's birth and she said she would give Mollen a chance to come since she was my only daughter who hadn't been able to attend a birth. There was a bubbling excitement in the house as we made ready - but finally everything was done that needed to be done and we looked blankly at each other, "What now?"
i wasn't in labour - but the idea of travelling to the birthing center in the throes of hard labour wasn't all that appealing either, so i called my midwife and asked her if we could just head over since we were committed to having baby now anyway - and just count on labour kicking in once we got there. She agreed to meet us there so we packed our girlies and one empty car seat in the truck and headed out.

Took a bit of convincing to get Neil to add the second finger. He's bad. :)

i was getting some random, painless contractions on the way there... and i asked Neil if we could start listening to my birthy play list while we drove... i had made some good choices putting it together... and as i surrendered by body and my plans for this birth and even the tiny child within me into God's hands, the tears just flowed. The birthing center isn't that far from our city's abortion clinic... and as we drove past the clinic, i looked back. i saw the gate shut tight across the parking lot entrance - and i prayed for Life.
When we arrived, my midwife decided she might as well check me now (her previous exam at the clinic had been a speculum exam because she didn't want to give me a full pelvic exam because of my gbs status). At the clinic, i had been high and closed, and despite the fact that it hadn't been very long, and i hadn't experienced many contractions, i hoped for progress. As soon as she checked me, my water broke in earnest and i couldn't even hold in a huge sigh of disappointment to see that it was stained with meconium.
My midwife again, was the calm voice of reason and she told me that she's required to tell me that the recommendation with meconium staining is a hospital birth. i asked her how she felt and she told me she was perfectly comfortable where we were... i told her i was too... and we decided to stay.
i had made a little progress, but not much, and having checked the baby's position in the womb, my midwife wanted to try some different positions to see if we could get his little head turned into a better position for birth. Finally, she smiled at me, "We're gonna go do some stairs now..."

She had me going up the stairs with wide legs and deep squats. When a contraction would come, she would get me to take two stairs and lean into it for the duration of the contraction. My contractions were really too short and mild to be making much progress, but i did the stairs till i was breathless - and before we knew it, it was time for the second dose of antibiotics and smoothie. i sat at the table as they mixed the antibiotics and they plugged it into the little port they had left in my arm. i begged to have it taken out now that i had taken both doses of antibiotics, but they seemed to want to keep it in for the duration now that we had it inserted. As the antibiotics finished, suddenly i felt *another* pop and a gush - and my water broke again.
"Surely now..." i murmered...
My midwife was baffled at the extra rupture, but was pleased that this water appeared clear... It was around 9:45 when i had the second dose of antibiotics and downed the second dose of lemon verbena. Slowly, slowly, slowly... the contractions picked up in frequency, duration and intensity... It wasn't long before i asked to get in the tub, and my midwife said looking at my countenance was enough to tell her I had made progress, I was finally not laughing, so she told me to go for it.
The water brought immediate relief.
i wasn't sure if i had been making progress or not - and i was a little worried that the water would slow the progress since it had been so much work to get me going and that was unfamiliar to me. My midwife told me she wasn't worried though, so i just enjoyed Mother Nature's epidural and breathed and coped through the contractions and let the water soothe me and the music that Cai played bring me peace.
It wasn't long and the contractions were overwhelming. i didn't feel strong and fearless - & that's ok - you feel what you feel in labour, each one is it's own journey... This one didn't come to catch me, i ran looking for it - and met it... despite my weakness.
i felt his head descend inside my body and wondered if it was time to push. My midwife managed to check me without getting me out of the water and helped me get the last tiny lip of cervix out of the way.
i worked so hard. It hurt, and i pushed... i felt him descend even more... The room was very dark and i was more vocal - but not out of control. Neil squeezed himself into a tiny corner beside the tub - and when i cried, "i don't want another contraction, i don't want to do this..."
He wryly added, "Babe, i'm tired - i want another contraction... Let's do this..."
And no matter what either one of us wanted, my tiny one descended and my body pushed and did what it was designed to do and i reached down in the water and felt his head crown and slip from my body.
"His head is out..." i groaned to the midwife.
Strains of One Thing Remains in the blackened room... "Your love never fails, never gives up, never runs out on me... Your love never fails, never gives up, never runs out on me...
"Oh, it is?" She laughed softly and helped me to get in a better position to push out his body.
(I was going through Sloan's pictures after and I found a video that was pitch black... I was going to delete it, but I hit play... I heard my midwife's voice, "I think it's time to get the sisters".  There was the sound of the soft lapping of water and then my groan as he was born, and the midwife's gentle acknowledgement, "Intense eh?" to my pitiful, "That was such hard work..." Quite an amazing thing to hear... )

i pulled him from the water, and clutched his tiny body to mine. He was so peaceful, he didn't want to cry. He breathed and looked around, wide eyed, grasping tiny wrinkled fingers at the air - pressed close to his mama, half submerged in the warmth of the water, blinking in the dim light as we spoke in lowered tones and waited for his cord to stop pulsing.
"What a peaceful birth..." The midwives smiled at my son - and i thought in that moment that i was so grateful that even after the decades of midwifery experience between these two women, the mystery and magic of childbirth was obviously not old for them... i was so glad for the women who attended his birth.
It was 11:51pm when he was born, and we made it home by 2:30am - I insisted on stopping at McDonalds for a Big Mac on the way, much to Neil's dismay... he was exhausted after all the resting on the couch he had done and wanted to get home to bed. ;)
The next day, we chose his name:

And there are so many more bits and pieces and stories I want to tell and pictures of grace in the midst of the vulnerability of new life... but if I don't post this now, i'm beginning to doubt I ever will... Blogging became tricky for so many, many reasons in the past couple of years and i'm out of habit and practice... and it shows :)
Elmer, you are a blessing to this family. We are so in love with you already - and I pray (yesterday it was in a sobbing half shouted prayer in the privacy of the little orange car)...  that you will be a willing vessel for God to accomplish His good works through you.
Oh buddy, mama is just so blessed - in tearful gratitude for the precious gift of your life. I just know we're going to be special friends...

late night for miss mollen...

They added a banner stating, "It's a BOY" to the window a few hours after this picture was taken. Elmer was the third baby born at the birthing center that day...

"I need some support." "Oh? Could you come over here? I've got to check some emails..."

That's my bikini top clutched in my hand... getting ready to get in the tub..

5 days old

5 days old... precious pictures taken by Carey Stevens photography. You can see more HERE.

egypt

It was my last time leading worship in my home church until the little baby boy arrives... so i got the chance to sit through most of all three services...
Our pastor is working through a series on the life of Moses - and it has been good, meaty stuff. In a breath of his sermon today, he gently offered the challenge, "When the Israelites ran into difficulty, their first impulse was to go back to Egypt... what do you turn to when things get difficult?"  He suggested that for some, it might be a habit of alcohol... pornography... or what he personally struggled with; apathy and laziness.
And as i sat with my swollen belly resting uncomfortably on my lap, i wondered what my Egypt might be...
i wondered if it was my habit to compulsively over think anything and everything, or if it was a weakness that had not yet been revealed to me, but was apparent and obvious to everyone around me...
And then i hit on it...
i was pretty sure that my Egypt was self-pity.
"Unloved" is my heart's petulant cry when met with difficulty, and with a sigh of acceptance, i meekly turn from freedom and accept the 'comfort' of the familiar slavery of self pity. i decided to watch for it - to guard against it - to remember that when difficulty comes, He sees, He hears and He has compassion on me... i'm fed, clothed and so tenderly led - and i truly do want to walk in freedom. Loved.
i didn't have to wait long to be tested in my resolve.
At the end of a long day, i sat down with a flock of young lambs who have no idea the vulnerability that the 39th week of pregnancy brings. My hands ache - a new pregnancy symptom i've never had before - and the end of the day shows my very real weaknesses as my body slows into a gentler, more careful gait. I have had a beautiful, healthy pregnancy - but any pregnancy is hard work. It's physically, emotionally and spiritually demanding... bringing me again and again to depend on others and surrendering my own comfort and vanity for the sake of another tiny person.
I've loved becoming "that house" - full of my own children and the children of others. I love getting to know them, letting them into our lives and getting a peek into theirs. My life has been enriched and my faith has been fed by the extra teens that sneak into my house, laze on my couch and have wormed their way so completely into my heart...
They were playing music... and then the little voice of one of my own lambs chirped, "My friend's dad told me that you and dad should stop having naps together..."
"Yeah, my mom says you guys have too many kids... You should stop."
And i smiled... but tears welled up in my eyes... And i *know*... these are gentle jests... These are my friends - and these little lambs don't know that sometimes i feel tired swimming upstream - so constantly called to a different shore...
And i couldn't respond...
"Yeah," continued one of my own little lambs... "i'm getting tired already of the comments, 'is your mom about ready to be done yet?' or, 'You guys already have such a big family, you must hate it...' It's like, enough already!"
Her eyes followed me as i got up to sweep and i think she guessed what might lie behind the plastic mask of a smile on my face...
i know these comments are idle - and they mean nothing to me - or to the tiny one i carry... and they certainly take nothing away from this marathon journey of pregnancy, and these final aching days as we prepare to cross the finish line... And honestly? People have been so kind... too kind... like, bend over backwards, *over blessed* kind... and i *know that i know that i know*... that there isn't one scrap of malice or cruelty in these words... but in an instant...

i began to turn back to Egypt.

"Hey daughter... want freedom?"
He whispers...
"Yes, Papa..." i pray... i'm sweeping the crumbs from beneath my large family dining table... swallowing the lump in my throat and cursing the hormones that make my emotions run far too close to the surface.
And in that moment, I choose to raise my eyes above the teasing confusion of my fellow Israelite wanderers to the majestic sight of fire and cloud leading us Homeward in the sky... I beg Him to speak truth.
And suddenly i'm filled with a certainty... that this boy that I carry, is God's workmanship... Before he was formed in the womb, God knew him... Abba Father... is knitting him together in the secret place to do good things.  The work i'm doing? It's not in vain... Jehovah-Nissi - my banner -  is using me, His daughter.  My willingness to carry this little one for His sake is not something to be scorned or looked down upon... it is a beautiful work, and one that will carry eternal consequences... and Jehovah-Raah - my shepherd - is so gently leading me...
Out of Egypt...
Out of slavery...
Out of self pity...
Into freedom.

vulnerability in the last month

i'm nearing the end of this pregnancy...
Even if i go late (which i'm anticipating), still... each pregnancy has a beginning and and end, and i know that the end will come.
i've been feeling incredibly healthy and strong (still - at 37 weeks). But some days - it creeps up on me... vulnerability.
It's a certain heaviness... or a feeling almost like i can't breathe... or a fleeting panic at an inability to perform a simple task that was so easy a few months ago... And i feel tears come so easily - not from sadness or frustration - but just from the beauty and aching fragility of the expectant state... i have to explain to Neil... "i'm ok. i just want you."
And i do...
There is warmth and peace that radiates off his back when i press myself too close and he finally has to shrug me away saying, "someone is being too kicky..."
We roll over away from him, giving him some much needed space. My son and i. i'm heavily turning my enormous body away as he twists and turns in his baby home within me... and i feel that subtle communion that happens between mother and child in utero.  It's a strange sightless connection between us. i imagine him all curled up - and i wonder if he imagines me at all... Gently i lay my hand on an outstretched limb that is making a strange lump on my abdomen... He's there.
My hands are thick and veiny from the extra blood flow in my body that sustains and nurtures his little body as it grows. My movements lack their usual quickness, my thoughts are plodding and sluggish...
A friend who is a mother of six phoned. We hadn't talked in a couple of years and as we caught up on my most recent pregnancy, she asked me, "So how do you feel about your big family?"
And i responded, "i'm doing the very best that i can..."
i am satisfied with that answer.
And i welcome the vulnerability that i've found myself in as i prepare myself for what's to come...

Surprise Baby Shower

i've been feeling really good. It's like a lot of the shadows and sadness of the past year and a half are finally fading in earnest; and i can see the outline of the sun breaking through the clouds - and feel it's warmth.
Neil says it's because i have a baby growing in my tummy - and that tends to make me happy and grateful.
Maybe he's right.
But lately, it just seems like God refuses to allow me to wallow in my habitual rut of, "unloved"... Rejected? Maybe at times and in moments and in seasons... But not unloved. Never unloved.
So, this past Sunday, Cairo announced that Neil (who would be in Montreal) - was sending me and my oldest two daughters for pedicures for an anniversary gift. i thought it was a little strange - i've only had three pedicures in my life - but i was sure that it would feel good on my poor swollen feet. We packed up to leave the house and were supposedly dropping Peyton off at a friend's on our way. We waited for Pey to get to the door but as soon as she was through it, she burst back out and waved for me to come in.
"Oh, Barbie must want to talk to you. i'll wait..." Cai mumbled, looking at her phone...
i walked to the door and as it swung open, i saw that her house was full of people - my people - shouting, "surprise!"
i was totally overwhelmed... i thought i could feel just the biggest loudest sob coming up in my throat - so i backed up and blinked back the tears... There were flowers, and sweet butterfly paper bunting - a cake made out of fruit, all kinds of treats and prettiness crafted out of the orange and blue that i've been secretly stashing for this little one... They knew this was baby 8... my fourth son, third boy in a row... they knew there was no call for a baby shower at this stage in the game...
But a party was thrown anyway - and what a party it was...

This little baby... *this one*... was celebrated. He was given fresh clothes - sleepers with no holes in the toes - onesies that aren't discoloured around the neck and legs, he got his very own pair of padraig slippers, and the luxury of a thermometer disguised as a soother. He got a couple of toys that have never been slobbered on and the softest receiving blankets - all in fresh, lovely, clean colours that smelled of newness - not boxes. A friend gave me a gift certificate for whatever odds and ends i might need from a cloth diaper store (and i just realized i need an amber necklace and a couple snappy's), another friend gave me a gift certificate for an hour long photography session. i got soothing butters for my swollen feet, and bath bombs and salts for this body that has taken this journey a few times before...

They were *thoughtful* gifts... pretty things... my mother in law said i was, "over blessed" - and i think she's right...
The shock of it all was the strangest part - this wasn't something i would have ever expected in a million years - and yet this tender celebration spoke volumes to my mama heart (and my weak little human heart too) - it affirmed the value of his precious life (as well as my own), and was a sweet recognition that each one - number one... or number eight... is a gift from the Father of Lights - who just knows how to give good gifts.
And... for the rest of the day, the tears kept trying to come, all hot and unexpected and unwelcome.... my emotions teamed up with my hormones and my husband's absence and my expectant plodding slowness... and i knew i was no match for all of them combined.
i texted my discipler - who had to miss because she was away - and told her about it...

"It was very surprising... But also just... I don't know... Makes me cry... Soooooooo undeserved - humbling... Like grace."

"People want to bless you, crazy as it sounds to YOU..."

"i thought i was going to start howling. That would have been embarrassing... But i managed not to start... It made my kids excited for the baby too... and showed them that he is precious too... Even if he's baby eight and third boy in a row. A soft life affirming message that is not lost on me."

"God is using people to bless you and your family, it is humbling. And it would have been embarrassing and funny at the same time if you would have lost it. I would have handed you a kleenex and rolled my eyes."

"Haha. i still might. Tonight. After the kids are in bed."

"Ha! On your own terms!"

"Yup. :)"

And maybe that's exactly what i did.

countdown to baby

32+ weeks pregnant with my little june baby.
i feel healthy and full and content and peaceful... so far... All my third trimester bloodwork came back with good results - my iron is a little low, but normal, my blood pressure is nice and low, my weight gain predictably around 24 pounds right now, my feet swell when i stand too much and i've lost the ability to sleep in, my fundal height is in the right range... All normal stuff for me in pregnancy. He's also head down - which is a relief after Ephraim stayed breech so late. i know he still has time to turn, but i'm thinking the chances are getting less now that he's getting bigger every day.
i've always found the last 10 weeks of pregnancy feel like living in a state of constant heightened expectation. i hear this countdown in my head - like the amplified voice of the space shuttle launch announcer - as these last weeks count themselves to their close. (Though don't worry, i'm not silly enough to believe that the end of a 40 week countdown = the end of pregnancy, it's always fun to countdown to the final count-up, isn't it? :)
And so i'm planning this little ones birth - as much as you can plan for the birth of a child that will be unique in timing and execution. We want to use Arbour Birthing Center again. Ephraim's birth was my favourite birthing experience - and Neil's too. We liked the freedom that the birthing center brought, and feel like we'd sure like it to work out for us to use their facility again. There's a little cost involved, ($525) but we felt like it was worth it for the experience we got out of it. We'll need to go and put down a deposit sometime in the next 4 weeks.
The other thing that comes to mind as we prepare, is Neil's travel. Neil had a travelling job the last time we had a baby, but in the last year and a half, his travel has kicked into high gear. It will be a little nerve wracking in the last bit i'm sure, as i want so badly for him to be home - but i do feel really sure that i can just let go and trust that God has the timing and arrival all worked out and that no scheming on my part will make anything go any more smoothly. As it stands, we're counting on baby being a little late, and i'm feeling certain that our little one will oblige.
This little boy is an active one. i've only resorted to kick counts once - as he's constantly on the move - moving my entire belly with his jabs and rolls. i love active babies - i've had both active and the gentle quiet ones - (and strangely, it didn't seem to have any measurable impact on what they were like after they were born) - but i sure appreciate my babies who are movers and shakers, easing any anxiety and offering constant reassurance that all is well.
We don't have a name yet.
My inlaws keep calling him, "Neilson" - and when i asked Neil if he liked that name, he gave me a, "you're ridiculous" face and a thumbs down... so i guess that's off the table. :) Neil is famous for only wanting to use his veto power on names and not coming up with any himself. He says it's because i come up with ridiculous names (he thinks "Watchman" is a ridiculous name). i don't know which one of us came up with the only one that he likes a little bit - but we're keeping it to ourselves right now since we're still so unsure. i keep a short list of names that stand out to me though - and i'm sure we'll find something to name baby at some point. It's funny though - i felt absolutely certain about my 'girl' name... so if the ultrasound tech was wrong and we end up with a june girlie instead of a june boy... she'll be all set. ("Saphron Glory" for those of you who are curious - & we would call her "Phronsie" just like in the Five Little Peppers and How They Grew).
i can't decide if 8 weeks left is a long time or a short time. It seems like such a short time to me... but then i second guess myself and say, "Oh, but paige, in the next few weeks - that's when your body will fall apart at the seams as this little boy packs on his chubbins and the exhaustion will threaten to overwhelm...
So i guess - it's both a long and a short time, so i'll just enjoy it while it's relatively easy - and when the tough stuff comes, i'll break out my stash of butterball bath bombs from Lush. (Neil bought me 3 when we were in banff... i might need more...)
So there are the meanderings of my mind - the bits and pieces that are a part of life in this snapshot moment of expecting number 8. Maybe not terribly interesting - but it's a part of the savouring of these tender child bearing years that can't help but count themselves to their close too.

29 & 30 - & a blogging confession

29 weeks

*a delayed post... i'm trying to push past my blip of self-consciousness in posting - and remember that this blog was created - not to capture each moment perfectly - but instead to remember the essence of what made these years so deliciously incredible.


(March 23rd) - i'll be 29 weeks tomorrow... My little one grows and kicks in my womb - and as i rub gently the piece of my own flesh that covers the tiny foot of another human being that just made an appearance on my ever expanding abdomen, i finally figure out why my mind has been so scattered lately.
i've been forgetful like i haven't been in years... So many plates spinning these days - and so many days spinning them without daddy.
Don't get me wrong, it has been good. (Minus a good week-long stretch where we got sick and i cried in bed because i thought that maybe i would be sick for the rest of my pregnancy and, Oh, God, how would i ever do this?)
But now i'm well - and strong - and i can laugh at my hormonal tears and defeatist attitude.
My mind is pulled in so many different directions these days: the dark eyed boy who writes sweet texts to my oldest daughter - and she who reciprocates, my middlies who are struggling with spelling despite the fact that i've made it a priority, my little boy whose runny nose keeps coming back, my tiny one growing in what feels sometimes like an ancient womb... (i get why Sarah laughed...) My mom - who i miss - and don't get to hear from enough, my sisters who are also navigating strangeness, my dad who is most often on the road, Good Friday - all that it means, all that i hope for, all that He is, my husband - and the peace that he unknowingly brings every time he comes home... there are only so many trails that my brain can follow before it just gives up...

And do you know where it goes?

It goes to the tiny one who is slowing me down. This little babe of mine reminds me with my own diminished abilities - that i am human... there is only so much i can do. He illustrates my weakness as 5 minutes of cleaning is inevitably followed by a 10 minute rest. He ignites my wonder as i feel him kick and grow inside of me and i could weep with the knowledge that his little life was ordained by a Holy God - for purposes beyond my imagination.
And i'm grateful.
i'm grateful for the scattered thoughts, for the rabbit trails my mind can't help but follow, the distractions that cause me to grow and try and be and do...
i'm doing the best that i can.... & it's enough.

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(April 2)  A break in blogging brings to me an insecurity in ever pressing "publish" again... i haven't posted in weeks... "is this worthy of breaking my bloggy silence?" i wonder.
i write for week 29 and it sleeps in drafts while week 30 slips away.
i writhe as i write - i sneak in a post... it's harder than it used to be.
i'm different than i was - (even though my old posts still resonate truth, and i'm glad i've been honest - and i'm so very, very glad that i wrote them - there's always the balance between authenticity and the ugly over-share...)  Things i thought i was sure of forever, have changed - things i thought might change, haven't. i guess it all comes down to the profound truth that so many before me have already discovered; that the older i am, the less i am sure of... you know... it's one of those lessons we are all bound to learn if we end up living long enough... and i'm muddling through it - 'cause that's how i roll... i muddle.
But...
i want to write for you *now*, little son.
i dream about you often. So much of this pregnancy has a strange new flavour for me - your experienced mama... who must acknowledge... that she has never, ever experienced YOU. You're bringing me to exotic new places - my Father is drawing me in - carefully prying open the layers of my heart to expose me to truth, to Himself and to His Great Love.
He's using you to bless me, tiny boy.
And so i'll press, "publish" - because i only ever started blogging for you anyway... for all my sons and daughters - to leave you a breadcrumb trail to my Creator (and yours too). As an echo proclaiming the Faithfulness of a Holy God who was leading your mama in preparation for the journey of your precious life.
i love you little "june baby"...
i'm so glad you've come.

love encounter

i blogged this entry over on the 40 Days for Life blog today. Will you pray for us? God is moving - and i want to be so sensitive to His voice as i do my best to serve Him...

If you haven't checked out the blog yet, here's the link: www.calgary40dfl.blogspot.com We're on day 8!

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My midwife is over in the same corner of the city as the abortion clinic.
And so... knowing i had to make that trip, i made plans to go pray at the clinic after my appointment was over.
My midwife had another midwife assisting who is in the process of getting certified in Canada - she's fresh from Nigeria - and her long dark fingers palpated my tiny son in the womb. She wore a smile on her face as she told me with her thick accent, "He's wiggling..."
They took forever to find his heartbeat - and it took both of them - sighing over the inconvenience of my anterior placenta - and i couldn't help but grin at my tiny son, knowing he had nothing to do with it's placement but thinking it would be funny if he did. When finally they did find it, my midwife gave a wry laugh and said, "Oh! It's actually a girl!"
And i laughed too, "i won't cry either way..."
i grabbed my paperwork for my third trimester blood work and walked quickly to my car. i pulled on my gloves, scarf, toque and zipped my jacket to my chin... it was cloudy, and the cold felt like it wanted to seep through every possible route straight to my chilled flesh.
i pulled around the final bend - and found the sidewalk bare - like my Father had cleared the space for an intimate gathering of just us two. i parked my little car and grabbed my sign out of the back... it's my testimony and it reads, "i was scared too... she was worth it." And if i tuck a 40 Days for Life sign underneath it, i can hold them both at the same time...
i grabbed my earphones and plugged them in to my ears - i sometimes listen to worship music as i pray - to help keep me focussed and soft.
i don't know that i could describe what followed as anything other than a love encounter... Anyone familiar with Jesus Culture (the band) - or just my JESUS -  might understand what i'm talking about... i felt Him there and i spent time meditating on the scripture verse that had been given to me by two different people in as many days....

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. ² If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. ³ If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
⁴ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. 1 Corinthians 13:1-8

And then the one that i am learning seems inextricably linked...

1 John 1:19
WE LOVE BECAUSE HE FIRST LOVED US.

(If that's too succinct for you, go look up the surrounding verses... powerful stuff...)

So, i'm standing there on the sidewalk... and i'm realizing that the only reason i'm capable of love at all... is because of Him... and He is faithfully showing me how... and i'm listening to Kim Walker belt out, "He loves us - oh how He loves us!!"
And i see women - dropped off - walking through those doors alone...
And i know that as much as i want to encounter God... God wants to encounter them...
And for this same reason, i must want to encounter them too, to love them, to reach out to them... because my presence here means nothing without love. My testimony is just ink on posterboard without love. My reason for love is inescapable, unchangeable, irrevocable - because that's how God is... He loved me first & His love never fails...
Just as i was finishing my hour, a man pulled up in a nice car. He parked by the curb instead of in the parking lot and fairly ran inside. He was well dressed, with a suit and tie - he looked to be at least my age - far beyond the typical "crisis pregnancy" age. Soon, he came out again, helping a woman who was as well dressed as her husband. Her pretty dress coat was buttoned to her neck and she looked as prim as any woman who sits beside me in our little white collar suburban church on a Sunday morning... except she was obviously in pain. It took them a while to make it to the car, and gently he opened the door and helped her lower herself carefully to the seat. And i watched - and ached - and loved from across that street.
Abortions happen all the time in our city - all for different reasons, and under different circumstances. The only thing that never changes is death. Abortion masquarades as a cure all for so many circumstances: a special needs child in the womb, a poverty stricken family, yet. another. female child, a single mother, a highschool pregnancy, an abusive relationship, a terrifying rape... But the secret is that abortion does nothing to cure the roots of these "problems"... the result of abortion is not a cure all, it's a dead child. That's all. An abortion doesn't change the circumstances or turn back time... it just kills.
And i ache as i watch woman after woman leave that clinic in 'hour one' of their new reality. There is no judgement - there is only mercy on our side of the street... As a mother myself, i know the incredible transformative, overwhelming love that a mother feels for her child. The day that the realization of what she has done hits - i can only imagine the agony, the remorse and the grief that these women bear... i've seen it on the faces of women who have told me their abortion stories... even decades after they happened. It's not a pain to be wished on anyone.
Yes, i want to be a sign of hope to the families that book appointments at the clinic. My dream is that they'll turn around and not go through with the scheduled abortion. But for the ones that do go through with it... i feel it deep in my soul... *we need to be there as a sign of mercy*. We need to be there even more for them. My Father loves them...
And so do i.

The desert and the parched land will be glad;
the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus, ² it will burst into bloom;
it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.
The glory of Lebanon will be given to it,
the splendor of Carmel and Sharon;
they will see the glory of the Lord,
the splendor of our God.

³ Strengthen the feeble hands,
steady the knees that give way;
⁴ say to those with fearful hearts,
“Be strong, do not fear;
your God will come,
he will come with vengeance;
with divine retribution
he will come to save you.”

⁵ Then will the eyes of the blind be opened
and the ears of the deaf unstopped.
⁶ Then will the lame leap like a deer,
and the mute tongue shout for joy.
Water will gush forth in the wilderness
and streams in the desert.
⁷ The burning sand will become a pool,
the thirsty ground bubbling springs.
In the haunts where jackals once lay,
grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.

Isaiah 35:1-7

 

Dear Lord, I pray these verses from Isaiah for women who have suffered an abortion. They know the desert. Their souls are parched, their knees give way, their hearts are fearful. Do for them, Lord what you have done for {others}. Open their eyes and ears, quench their thirst, fill them until they are bursting with your life and shouting for joy. Use me, Lord, in whatever way you will, to invite them to your streams in the desert. Amen. (prayer is an excerpt from book, 40 Days for Life, available on amazon)

fourth son

Hi dolly.
i keep thinking about you.
It's actually fairly constant.
At nearly 20 weeks, you're big enough to make yourself known in my shape, in my agility, in my night wakings with your gentle nudges and rollings...
You're my son.
My fourth son.... my eighth child...
And it struck me tonight as i was driving down the road, turning a corner that will lead me straight to our house - your house too -  that sits on a bustling street in our little neighborhood... That you're my first.
You're my first you.
Nobody will stretch me as a mother like you will.
Nobody will bring home the friends that you will.
Nobody will smell just exactly the way that you smell - or impact our family the way that you already have.
It looked like, in the ultrasound, you had a profile somewhat like Gage's... It seemed to me, that your little feet were turned quite a bit - just like all your brothers feet have been. You, like your siblings before you, are a combination of genes from your tall impatient daddy and your short irritating mama...
But you're the only you.
Nobody elses genes will make quite the combination that yours will - to create just the person that God destined you to be...
Our fourth son.
And i find that i can't wait to lay my eyes on you.
i wonder at a loving Father who chose to send you... to us... right now...
He saw fit to send you to a loud house. One with lots of bodies, one with a daddy who travels and a mama who just came through a hard year. He decided to send you to me now - when i'm ripe with age and experience. Daddy has way more grey in his hair... i have way more creases around my eyes. He blessed this mama with you when your sister talks about her grade 12 year coming up, graduation, moving out, college and life and everything that comes after...

And i wonder sometimes, little son of my heart... if you'll know... if you'll understand... your uniqueness. There is a purpose and a plan for your life - you are the workmanship of a creative Father. You were created to do good things - which have already been planned in advance for you to do.
And as you grow - i grow - both physically and spiritually... to accommodate you in my body, in my life, in our home, in this family... You and i are probably the most aware of this growth - my body holding yours as it develops within.
And so i suppose it's no wonder that you're so constantly on my mind.
There is so much that i wonder about you...

And yet enough that i know:

Your life was breathed by God. You were created in His image. You were not brought to life by my will or your daddy's - but by the will of God.
This. This is enough.
i trust God - who sent you - who gives good gifts - and who gave us to each other.
And baby, i hope you will too.

Little Tie-Maker...

Well i gotta say... it's kind of a big deal around here. :) Nearing the halfway mark with this little one and going crazy trying to think up the perfect name.
We thought he looked a little bit like Gage when we watched him on the ultrasound.
What a miracle...

*instagram - solace2

in the beginning

Another delayed post... but i want to share it now - to tell about His Great Love. :)

Peeking ahead as i creep up to that 16 week mark... i'm still feeling pretty bad - but i'm having good days mixed in with the barfy days, so i think the end is in sight...
i'm hoping to blog more in the New Year - but for whatever reason, i'm whispering blog posts instead of shouting them these days. i'm tip toeing through pregnancy rather than dancing. i'm clinging rather than soaring. i'm changing and i'm aching to be transformed.
So for those few who still read this much quieter place - that's where i'm at - and that's where i'll be till He leads me out.

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i was between 4 and 5 weeks pregnant when there was a "pro-choice" explosion on the facebook wall that i look after for 40 Days for Life.  i had only just found out about my wee one... and was a mere 3 months past miscarrying Tiny... and they posted images of a 6 week abortion and angry diatribes attempting to deny the humanity of little ones - just like my little one - because they are "smaller than an m&m" - as if size somehow miraculously decrees our worth.  Some, i had to delete - but most i left - testament to the violent chasm that exists between the side that fights for life... and the side that fights for death.
i felt weak and vulnerable. i didn't feel suited to battle - i felt tired and insecure.
That was the day my Papa stepped in front of me and sheltered me underneath His wings.
Believers began posting on my personal facebook wall, sending me messages, texting and emailing me... (These are actual quotes...)
"i'm praying for you for rest for your spirit."
"i'm praying for you, that He'll lead and give you strength and courage."
"i'm praying for you that you will stand FIRM."
"This scripture is for you, Joshua 1:9..."
"This is the scripture i'm praying for you, Psalm 37:23 and 24..."
"i'm praying for protection - both for you and for your family..."
"Father, I pray for assurance... for protection... for strength... for Your church to be lifting her in prayer... protection in her marriage and in her family life... see that her love for you changes the lives of others... i come against the evil at the Kensington clinic and pray for the protection of the unborn."
People that were on facebook and knew what was happening in that tiny prolife corner reached out to me, but also individuals who weren't and didn't know what had gone on. Nobody but Neil and i knew about the new little life - and yet without my asking, so many messages seemed to speak directly to protection of my family - and i have no doubt that my Papa  was showing me that even the little sparrow in my womb didn't escape His watchful eye...
THIS song ministered to me as i pressed into my Papa's heart - and told Him how i longed to be a beacon that showed His Great Love. i read THIS scripture and realized again and again and again - that i was held, protected, ransomed and claimed.
There's more - but some of it was just so personal and intimately for me that i can't bring myself to share it here...
One of the days i went to the clinic that week, a post abortive - grieving -  friend came with me - and i found i could hardly stand. This hadn't happened to me quite so powerfully ever before. i had always been able to stay, to stand... but that day, i couldn't, and we ended up leaving early.
And the next week - almost as suddenly and strangely as it had begun, the attack ended... (Maybe one day i will blog about that too?)
And i was perplexed in the weeks that followed, *why* that sudden little outburst of spiritual battle, the promptings to pray for protection, the outpouring of prayer from a body of believers who didn't know the whole story. But in it, i saw His hand, and His ability and willingness to step in front of, and protect me in my vulnerability. In it, i heard His instruction and in that week, i taught my reflexes to obey. Through it, i understood that He's got His eye on each one - and that in His Great Love is where i want to be.

why wait?

Taking a deep breath & posting a few drafts from the past couple of months... This one is from nearly 6 weeks ago. There are more to come...
As a side note - i have been wanting to blog more, but a little one broke my laptop screen and we just can't stomach the funds to get it fixed right now, so i haven't been able to write as much as i've wanted to. Oh, i've had some good thoughts that have flitted in... & flitted out. i really, really miss my laptop and late night writing sessions when my husband is out of town. But for now - here is a little bit of life to share...

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At the time of this writing, i am seven weeks pregnant... and it's a secret.
i've done both - the frantic spilling of beans and the careful holding of news... and i've found that the careful holding of news seems to spare me some anxiety - so despite the heaving volcano inside wanting to jump up and tell the world our news, i'm holding it, examining it, pondering it and keeping it... just for now.
i guess anxiety is to be expected for a mama who has miscarried three times. i know that sometimes my little ones have come to stay - and sometimes their stay has been painfully short. And so in these months - tho i have never been able to hold back the waves of love that lap over the little one growing in the secret place - i hold them with open hands, accepting this gift from the Creator, yet knowing that the Great Giver and Taker of life is sovereign... and i trust Him.
i don't know why i feel less anxious when less people know about my tiny growing one - but i do. It's some psychological blip that makes me feel the comfort of solitude in waiting out these anxious weeks... of course, i'm never completely successful in my secret keeping - my husband is in on it - and as of a day or two ago - so are my big girls... Which brings me to the next reason waiting works for me:
Morning sickness? Is awful. i won't dwell on this topic because goodness knows, i could fill page after page of whining, complaining and self-absorption. i'm so sorry that the first trimester seems to shake everything out of me - leaving me exhausted, nauseated and useless. i needed to let my bigs in on the secret because i owed it to them after my bewildering sudden failure to do and be and cook and teach. But i've found that sometimes - if i talk less, i complain less... i hope it works - even just a little.
When i'm nauseated and tired and hormonal - to the point that it's really hard just to focus on anything other than that tiny, flailing being that is making me feel so rotten, i start to fantasize about telling people. If only to explain myself, to give a real reason to little furrowed brows of little people who wonder why mama is being such a lunk.
i'm counting down in my head - not that many more days - then you can tell, paige... 
But then i imagine the reactions that are going to feel like a kick when i'm down & i start to think that maybe any number of days wouldn't feel like enough.
"i'd kill myself if i were you!!"
"How old are you anyway??!!"
"i thought you weren't having any more?"
and oh my heart, i just know i'm not strong enough to string together coherency amidst my nausea... i know i'm not smart enough to respond with wisdom amidst my first trimester exhaustion...
And so i bite my tongue and think to myself - in a few weeks i'll deal with all that...
But meanwhile, my little one grows.
Tiny son or daughter sprouts arms and legs, and furiously beating heart begins to pound in wee forming chest.
Technically - this little person is still considered an "embryo".
But my baby is blissfully unaware of this title - and is growing, doubling in size, taking what is needed from mama...
In a matter of days - baby will be out of the embryonic period, and enter the fetal period... It will be the same babe created on the very day of conception - the same one who had a tail and paddle hands, the same one who will one day... hopefully... be in my arms pursing pink lips - blinking in the light of day.
And so - i hope that someday i can post this... when i'm not seven weeks pregnant. A little memory of the snivelling, barfing, mess that i was in this first trimester - daily making the choice to trade anxiety for gratitude and sickness for a slower pace - and imagining the little June baby who will make every moment worthwhile.

dawn

He's a morning person. 
i wake to the gentle, 'slap, slap' - of his baby palm against my cheek, and i turn my head away from him.  i hear him grunt and i feel his weight as he climbs mercilessly over my head to find my face again, tugging my hair and kneeing my cheekbone. He pokes his sharp little fingers at my eyes whispering, "boo?"
i snuggle him under the blankets & slowly the sleep fades. Eyes finally cracking open, i glance down at his - they're a startling blue, gazing hopeful at mama.  As our eyes meet, his crinkle into a smile, as if to say, 'hi mama!  Awake at last?'
"Hey, baby..." i whisper - and he immediately unlatches and corrects me.  
"No.  i not baby."
"Please?" i softly pretend to beg... or maybe i really do beg - maybe there's no pretending as i'm holding his tender little body against mine as the morning creeps steadier on...
"No." he states.  Firm.
"ok." i sigh, resigned... but then he cocks his head - and seems to soften to his crooning mama. 
"i be yo' baby." he croaks, "mama - waaa, waaaa..." His careful taunting mockery of a baby's cry to his mama makes me laugh, and he laughs with me.  He's such a smart baby boy. 
i hate that lump in my throat.  i hate that the sweetness of this moment makes my throat ache and my eyes sting in some sort of piercing nostalgia for a time that's not yet passed. 
His white hair is a wild cloud around his face, i smooth it, and kiss the fluff that refuses to lay flat.  The seconds tick, my boy grows restless, hungry, ready, awake...
And so we rise to face this new day.

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Less than a week left in our spring vigil.  Thank you to all who have been following along and sharing... You can check out our recent posts HERE. 

joy's birthday

i don't think i have ever in my life experienced the kind of high i had the day Gagey was born.  i had struggled with anxiety in his pregnancy (more than any other) - & as i held him in my arms, i felt like i could explode with gratitude. 
Cai remembers how i wouldn't let anyone else hold him... My face felt like it would crack from delirious cackling joy... & i wrapped & re-wrapped this tiny bundle who felt like a luxurious, extravagant gift.  i counted fingers and toes... i gently pulled down his expressive lips, and looked and his pink toothless gums. 
God has never allowed me to forget that joy.  Still, 4 years later some nights as sleep is coming on, i tap Neil's shoulder & tearfully whisper, "thank you" for relenting and allowing those bonus boys who might never have been. 
& i grin as i think of the boy my Father created for me to mother... His gentle smile, his soft heart and enormous belly laugh. 

& my gratitude heaves and crashes on the shore...



bonus boys sleeping beside our bed



Happy 4th birthday, sunshine boy.

The Baby

Ephraim is kind of incredible. 

Gagey is turning into this gentle giant - a sweet manly soul who is, at 3,  growing so quickly to be like his big brother.

Ephraim... is littler & feisty.  He's funny and he knows it - he likes to pick fights, raise one eyebrow when he's doing something silly, and loses the latch on his soother as he suck, sucks it with a goofy grin on his face.

This Saturday, it was just the three of us.  Neil took the other 5 skiing & i was at home with my bonus boys.  They played, hid, wrestled (ephraim won because gage is bigger & won't hurt the 'baby').  We snuck out & bought chicken pot pies for when the skiers would come home.  After unpacking our few groceries, i turned to unpack my tiny son.  Gage had already stripped off his sweater and his shoes and left them in a pile by the door - but mr. enormous blue eyes was still standing there waiting for me.

i pulled his tiny lace up shoes off his tiny baby feet... i picked them up with one hand, grabbing my own shoes with the other... realizing fully in that moment, that one day, his shoes will dwarf mine.  i slipped off his hoodie that matches his big brother's and hung them both in the closet... & then... i pulled that tiny boy into my arms.  i let his dandelion hair tickle my face as he nuzzled closer into my neck.  i carried him up the stairs and put him in my bed. 

Within minutes, he was asleep. 

Oh baby... what have you done to me, with your impish laugh and your brilliant, hopeful eyes?  How could it be that any would think the words, "too many, too much," when it comes to such an incredible prize? 

i would fight to the death for this little scrap of man... teeth bared with my final breath... i would sell all we own to keep this tiny prince... any cost is just a pittance when i compare it with the bountiful riches he brought with him when he was yet naked in the womb...

she has a good eye

i was chatting with an old friend on facebook one night. 
Neil was out of town & we found ourselves with a rare opportunity to catch up.
i asked her about her six children.  They have 3 biological children and then 5 years ago, they adopted a sibling group who came into their lives unexpectedly.  She told me little tidbits about each one, commenting about this one's strengths, that one's quirks... She told me how these 3 unexpected bonuses had had such a tremendous positive impact on their lives - and on their friends and extended family. 
She told me happily about one small boy, "He has a good eye and can pick out every cool rock or stone or anything out of the blue.  We were at a lake once and he just reached in the water and said 'Look, Tammy, here's a cool one!' And it was tiny and it was neat... how he seen it I have no idea.  And then in my parents yard there was a tree and he walked by it for the first time... dad walks by it every day.  N was just walking with dad and out of the blue says, 'Hey Pere Pere, there's a nest in there,' and sure enough hidden in the tight branches there were three little eggs." 
And i couldn't help but smile as i read her mama's heart gushing about this little one. 
She herself... she's no different than that sweet son she treasures...
She has a good eye...
It saw love, potential and life when the opportunity presented itself.  She plucked those tiny lives out of the deep waters, and said with certainty, 'Here's a good one...'  She tucked them into her heart - into her family - into her life... and how she managed to see... and to scoop up such enormous wealth... gems of matchless worth? 
Well... i have no idea.

40 Days for Life

40 Days for Life begins on September 28th.  Within this next week, their volunteer calendar will open up for time slot sign ups. 
i have agreed to be their 'blogger' - so i hope i can get it together & make something presentable that will have an impact... i'll share here as soon as i know where & how we're doing it. 
i feel a great certainty - especially after the planning meeting i attended last night - that this is a ministry that i wholeheartedly want to be a part of.  There is a loving humility in the family that organizes our local vigil... and their desire is to speak gently and to pray earnestly for those hurt by abortion...
o God - be Truth and Light and Love... in us and through us.  
i posted this on facebook this morning, but i want it to stand here too...

"America needs no words from me to see how your decision in Roe v. Wade has deformed a great nation. The so-called right to abortion has pitted mothers against their children and women against men. It has sown violence and discord at the heart of the most intimate human relationships. It has aggravated the derogation of the father's role in an increasingly fatherless society. It has portrayed the greatest of gifts -- a child -- as a competitor, an intrusion, and an inconvenience. It has nominally accorded mothers unfettered dominion over the independent lives of their physically dependent sons and daughters.



And, in granting this unconscionable power, it has exposed many women to unjust and selfish demands from their husbands or other sexual partners. Human rights are not a privilege conferred by government. They are every human being's entitlement by virtue of his humanity. The right to life does not depend, and must not be declared to be contingent, on the pleasure of anyone else, not even a parent or a sovereign." Mother Theresa

i think the impact goes so much farther than the fight over the legality of abortion - (or euthanasia, or infanticide... the line ever changing...) It has changed our very hearts towards our children, spouses and families - and it is a change that i personally, have become painfully aware of in our current social climate...