darling babies - later-post

i picked up my computer a dozen times in this last couple of months to blog - and a dozen times I haven't been able to follow through.
Even now, I hear Elmer stirring upstairs and I doubt i'll get more than a line or so down before he calls with his gentle cry and i'll have to run to him. He's tiny and soft now - his baby rolls are just starting to form - and the feeding of his little frame has consumed us both these last weeks.
(True enough, this post had to sit half finished while I filled the needs of my tiny one who cries to be held - and rewards my efforts with giant gummy smiles.)
We're in some years that feel like a giant rollercoaster ride - or maybe it's something less civilized yet - this season that rocks and sways, brings us to terrifying heights and plummets us towards earth while our hearts pound and we wonder if we'll survive at all.
We have you, daughter entering your last year of highschool, and you, tiny son, just born - and six of you in between, all at various stages of growth and life. We have a daddy who travels  (who by the time I post this will have come and gone again maybe a dozen times...) and a mama who clings to Jesus - a family that is held together by love and grit... And a Saviour who holds us all.

****

I can tell it's him - arriving home after a late night flight - because the door shuts softly. My sprite daughter won't be home from work for another half hour, and my tiny baby won't wake for his first night feed for another hour after that. He pads up the stairs, and I rub my eyes and struggle to sit up in bed.
He always looks so good to me when he gets home from the road. His shoulders are so broad and his skin so brown. He smiles that smile that melts me and starts to unload his suitcase. His voice is low and full of warmth - and mine answers his in sleepy-we-have-a-newborn-again tones. Our conversations wind gently around you children that we made together.
And the one thing that I feel like I did right is to love your daddy. We've fought and made each other mad and sad before... I made him want to pull out his hair, and he made me cry... but I know without a shadow of a doubt that I love this man who has borne the weight of this growing family all these years.
Cause it all comes down to relationships, little ones.
It never stops being about relationships.
You can try to do and you can try to be and you can give and cry and rage...
Or you can just love and open yourself up to real relationship.  The kind that bends without breaking, stretches without tearing and grows you stronger with the joy and the pain...
So I let him see me.. like... really see me. When he's gone, I text him my vulnerability.
"Be soft with me when you get home."
Because he's a big exhausted man who might miss the subtle nuances of a tender wife who has missed him desperately.
"I will. I promise." He responds.
And i'm heard.
And he does.
Babies... I love your daddy.
And together... we love you.
And this family - is a gift that none of us choose to take for granted.

thinking out loud... birth, travel and planning to flex

i have a tendency to over think things. It's a bit crippling at times - and such a sweet relief to finally be able to just let go when i realize that i've worked that one little thought into a frazzled mess and i should possibly just put it aside now. 
My friend J and i were having a little texting convo the other day as she was working through a little thought process of her own. We kind of talked through her options and where she felt like God wanted her to be - and in the end she had peace about what she was supposed to do... and it was funny 'cause she told me, "Thanks for that. You are always so good at putting into words the thoughts and leadings I have but can't seem to explain. I know they're from God, but you help me stand back and see a broader picture."
And it's funny to me - how our weaknesses are so often our strengths too! 
So the last few days i have been puzzling out some of the details of this baby's birth. There are so many blanks that will be filled in by my own sweet son and by a Father who i really believe has a hand in the timing of *all* things...
But there are a few details that i do know about that are rattling around in my head begging to be slotted into some sort of a makeshift plan - (knowing that where babies are concerned, all plans are subject to change without any notice)...
Neil's travel has been amazing this past little bit - far more home time than away time, trips that have been a manageable length and less weekends spent missing family time. But strangely, it looks like in the window of "baby time" - there are going to be not one, but two trips that will take him far enough away that he wouldn't be able to get home...
And i do have peace.
And there is a sweet little window of time between the trips where he will be home, and it wouldn't surprise me one tiny bit if the baby decided to arrive on one of those home days...
But for the days when he's not here... my mind (which again, is at peace) - is mulling over scenarios trying to find the very best options for me - and for the little ones here in our home, and mostly for this sweet little boy who will be making that epic journey through birth...
We're planning on using the Arbour Birth Center - like we did for Ephraim's birth. It was the perfect middle ground for us, and we both felt like it was our favourite birthing experience... We don't know who will come with us, if we'll bring any little ones with us, or if they'll all be tucked in bed. We're just deciding we'll decide when the time comes.
But if Neil's gone...
i don't want to drive across Calgary to get to a birthing center. Yes, i have awesome friends who would drive me... but it's the loneliness that gets me. i don't want to go and leave my family at home if i already don't have Neil. i know that doing that would make me feel sad and torn... So, we've decided that if Neil's out of town, we'll call the midwives to come to our house and have a home birth. i've done very little (nothing) to prepare for the event of a home birth. Maybe part of me is in denial that it's even a possibility, as i so badly want Neil to be there... Cairo claims that there's no way my mind will let my body go into labour until Neil's last trip is done & he's back home... & honestly? i believe her... That would put me at 12 days "over"... but it's not unimaginable...
So, there are some of my little threads of thoughts.
i'm not stressed.
i'm not worried.
i'm taking each day (and each business trip) as it comes, and i'm doing all that i can do to grow this sweet little one safely inside until it's time for him to come out - and i'm trusting that the Father who gave life to us both will hold us in the palm of His hand...
So there's my little update as I gaze ahead to these next precious waiting days with due dates looming on the horizon - and the sweet smell of rain making the grass grow green...

morning glory

Our mornings have taken an unintentional - but beautiful - turn.
Neil has so much work out east that he just keeps his body on Ontario time now and he rises before the sun. He uses his morning hours to answer emails and phone calls from our living room couch. He brews the coffee, and lately? The hazelnut fragrance, my expectant discomfort and the promise of his solid, quiet company is enough to drag me out from underneath my blankets so i can enjoy the quiet of morning while our seven children slumber and our eighth hiccups and kicks gently in my womb.
There's usually a half-grin of greeting as i pad through the kitchen. And then the quiet of companionable silence broken spatteringly by brief conversations about the price of oil, the state of politics, a work crisis or any number of situations that are currently unfolding with any one of our little ones.

"What are you singing for that open mic thing at our church?"
"i'm doing a rap."
Silence.
"Cai's gonna add some violin... It's really more of a spoken word..."
Silence. A grin. A cocked brow.

And then slowly we both look back down to our reading... i'm reading an article about euthanasia and he's checking his portfolio online. Comfortable silence... We both know we're an odd match - but God knew what He was doing when he gave us to each other - and our oddness only balances us out in some unexplainable chemical reaction that makes one what was once two separate elements unrelated by composition, state or quality... Marriage just completely blows my mind.
Sometimes he'll wait till the first peeks of cottony bed head and hungry tummies make their way upstairs... and sometimes he gets an urgent phone call and sneaks out before any of them wake...
But these mornings with him home (he has been home more in the last month than any other month in the past year and a half) - have been something of a golden era - which the online dictionary defines as, "an untroubled and prosperous era during which people lived in ideal happiness." - or "a period of great peace".
And my eyes are heavy with sleepy happiness in those early morning moments...
There's no banging and shouting and moaning at my piano... If music is played, it's soft - so as not to wake our little ones. It's not a time for deep conversations - just little snippets of thoughts as we have them... things that connect us as i read and he works and daylight creeps ever nearer.
And who knows how long these precious mornings will be a part of our routine? Travel ever beckons and breaks habits and rituals. New ones are formed and old ones are quickly forgotten and replaced. But for now - in my 35th week of pregnancy, i'll gather each golden bud like a delicate morning glory and breathe deep the fragrance of peace.  

generations

i only met Neil's grandparents in the last few years of their lives. Neil and i had only been married for a summer - and we'd just had our fresh tiny new girlie when Neil got laid off from his job pouring concrete precast forms. He was discouraged and anxious to provide for us - as we both had a dream of having mama stay at home with any children we'd have. One day,  a couple of months after his 19th birthday, my husband came home and said, "Let's go to Manitoba."
i'm always game for adventure - and so we packed our bags and climbed into our horrible little white car and drove from BC across Alberta, and then a seemingly never ending Saskatchewan,... stopping at dirty gas stations to change diapers and nurse our darling before finally arriving at that sweet corner house in Minitonas, Manitoba.
We rang their bell - bedraggled and exhausted - and they bustled us in the door.
Alvin and Anna.
They welcomed us in... fed us fresh home made buns and cranberry juice that was so tart, it would turn you inside out.  They cooed over our baby. He wondered if his great-granddaughter was getting enough milk as she was so painfully tiny - and she told me that Cai's forehead was so big, her head must be chock full of brains.
They loved her...
And because we were Neil's, they welcomed us into their family - holding nothing in reserve.
i never knew them when they were newlyweds - decades before i was even born... or through the thick of their childbearing years... raising their family and making sacrifices for the ones they loved...
i only met them in the twilight...
And what i saw changed me and any expectations i had begun to form on my own fresh, unspoiled marriage and family.
They were some kind of a team those two...
When, a few months later, we moved to Manitoba - to a tiny house just down the road from them, i'd see them out walking together. They were desperate not to slip on the icy sidewalks knowing that one fall could cost them their health and independence and they'd walk slowly and carefully, holding each other protectively - walking to and from the tiny community hall where they'd meet other seniors to play shuffleboard.
He knew she was funny... i saw it in the way his eyes twinkled when she said something off-colour.
She knew he was dependable... i saw it in the way they worked side by side.
She was spunky and good natured.
He was helpful and loyal.
Their home was companionable... comfortable... welcoming...
And i watched - young bride that i was... as their love story wound sweetly to it's end.
Only 4 months after we arrived, she suddenly passed away. Neil's extended family gathered in shock at the hospital - wondering if there was any hope, and i remember him saying that she had grabbed her chest and sighed, "Oh Alvin..." before he called the ambulance...
The whole community mourned, it seemed. She was a tiny spark of a woman - but even at her age, she still retained that rare beauty that's so easy to recognize and admire. At a family service, he stood and his voice trembled and shook as he said, "It was 56 years we had together... i only wish it had been longer."
It was maybe 5 years later when he followed her - only days after his 90th birthday.
He waited till he had his children gathered around his bedside and then it was almost like he just decided to go. i remember being told that he kept saying, "i'm ready. i'm ready."
And oh...
How i want a marriage that is long and fruitful - that is companionable and comfortable.... but never, ever long enough. How i want a life story that ends with a readiness for eternity... How i long for a love story that impacts a generation that isn't yet here... and how grateful i am that i got exposed to theirs.... even if it was - just as the sun was setting on it.

his wife

i sign most notes or emails to Neil with 'wife'...
i like being his. Wife.
It has been 16 years that we've been married. 16 years and 9 months. We're creeping ever closer to that half way mark of our lives - when we'll be able to say we've been married longer than single.
And it hasn't been easy every second of every day. Some seasons have felt like marriage has been refining me - burning away parts that are broken and are hindering... and awakening grace when a vicious selfishness would rear it's head in grace's stead...
And i don't know about you... but i get tired.
But i realized something the other day as my husband grabbed my face - and his lips felt soft and sweet and lingering on mine before he left for another business trip...

i love him.

i felt that, "ohhhh, don't go..." words that don't even need to be spoken anymore - they're so old and worn both on my lips and in his ears.

My parent's divorce devastated me this year... it shook me to the core - and a friend recently made me realize that now i'm a pioneer... i'm a newcomer breaking new land for my little ones - sowing seeds for my children to harvest, working long hours with uncertain skies - unsure of the seasons in this unfamiliar place, and hoping and trusting that our homestead will flourish.
And i understand that sometimes we're powerless against the brokenness that would come and take what we thought we owned. i understand that "unbroken" isn't something that can always be chosen. i understand that the sweetness of family comes in many different packages - but as much as it depends on me... this will be the season of the Unbroken Family.
This past week, a sweet friend - one of the bridesmaids at my own wedding - aching and broken from a fresh divorce of her own, wrote me a note telling me that she wondered if maybe marriage was just a cruelly perpetuated myth that in reality was just a form of slavery that brought only heartbreak to women. She wanted release for having been a part of so many weddings - mine included - wondering if her involvement in something so messed up had in turn messed her up.
i'm gonna be honest here and tell you - that i read her note with a really heavy heart. Seems every rejection of marriage feels personal these days... i thought of closing the message and declining response.
i am so very tired after all...
But i didn't. i couldn't. And so i let my fingers thickly type truth...

j, i love you :) & not sure what kind of "release" you're looking for, but i want you to know & understand that my marriage is the single biggest blessing in my life. It is a gift from my loving Father - and i count it as such. There are times when marriages don't reflect the beauty of the relationship they are supposed to - & those times are hard (trust me, watching my parents divorce this year has been devastating)... but far from enslavement, marriage has been something God has used to draw me closer to Him, it has been a purifying, sanctifying work in my life for which i am grateful. :) Take from that what you might & consider yourself 'released' from any guilt you may carry for taking part in a ceremony that means little to me compared to the bond that has been watered & tended & is fiercely protected in my heart...

And on the heels of my small declaration, he left... this husband of mine. And when he had only been gone only the first four hours of a two week trip, i cried. Yeah, i know... i'm a middle aged mother with children to raise and bean soup to reheat. i have baths to give and spelling tests to administer. And this man of mine is a go-er... he's home then gone in a breath - and this good life that i carry on in his absence is ours - with so much to be grateful for. i should know better.
But the heart wants what the heart wants.
& mine?  Wants him.

gone

Neil travels.
What? i've mentioned that before?
oh.
Well, it's on my mind today. After a nice little break in and around Christmas time, the bulk of January has been spent on the road. And it's funny, but i was noticing the other day that wow - is there ever a HUGE variance in how i react to his absences.
Sometimes, it's great - i plug in, i get lots done, i'm absorbed in my work and the joy of this sweet little life we've carved out - and the week flies by... But other times... like this week - his leaving hits like a sucker punch and i spend the whole week winded on the floor...
Maybe it had something to do with him leaving before the birds had awakened on a Saturday morning... i hate when he's gone all weekend... i miss our coffee on the couch waiting for his parent's predictable Saturday morning phone call... i miss being with him when it seems like every other family is together - the comfort of his shoulder beside mine in church, his teasing nature with our little boys who need their daddy...
Or maybe it was just time for a sucker punch...
Regardless, i want to tell you something really neat.
We don't all have husbands that travel... But all of us who are married? We're involved in some really sanctifying work... Whether i'm plugged in, chugging along, booking his dentist appointment for the 12 hour slot that he'll be home or whether i'm reeling from his absence catching sobs in my throat as i check my email for the 40th time in the past 12 hours - hoping for an update - i'm in this beautiful thing that has the capacity to purify me if i let it.

i replay in my mind again and again those five kisses he sprinkled on me as i rubbed the sleep from my eyes and whispered, 'goodbye'... i pray for him... every morning with all those little blond heads bowed all around me - that God would grant him favour with his bosses and customers, that he would be protected in all he does, and that his heart - wherever it is - would be turned to ours as ours are turned also to his...
i had a dream last night - that i was having a conversation with Jesus... but that throughout the conversation i kept on turning away, looking towards the door, waiting for Neil to arrive...
Finally, i realized that this nail biting anxiety was doing nothing but distracting me from the beauty of my present company...
And it was just one flash of a night of bizarre dreams that wouldn't leave me alone until my eyes opened groggily to face another day... but the thought sticks with me even now...
Yeh... i love him... and maybe i even i miss him more than i should...
But maybe too, i needed the reminder to fix my eyes on my present company - and enjoy the sweetness of these moments with the ones i love - even though i'd sure give a lot to be able to be with their daddy.
Marriage is sometimes watered by faithfulness, by loving in absence, by trusting in silence, by *being* without acknowledgement. Marriage isn't always about protection (though - beautifully, it has been that too...) but it's sometimes about sharpening, preparing, making ready and growth.
And i'm grateful that all this can happen... even when he's gone.

some days i miss him more than others

  Some days i'm so busy; and the joy of my little crew and the bustling of my house keep the ache a little farther away. But there are other days - the days that i bemoan my travelling man's travelling - and i miss him more. The floor can hardly bear to be swept, i get the stares, meals are left-over's left-overs... 'cause i'm lonesome for the man who makes it feel like home.
  i've never been the type of woman who cherishes her independence. i've always been a kinda high maintenance girl - but my Father seems to want to stretch me in ways that bring about the most intense kinds of discomfort, and so my independence grows too. And it seems funny to me that when my protector is on the road, that's often when my Father calls me out to "tussle" (as my friend Rita puts it). When i feel the most vulnerable and solitary in my stance as parent, when my bed is shared with a tiny needy two year old, rather than a big strong man, when i have to find the courage to stand - rather than to stand behind - my Papa brings me more opportunities to show the world that i'm His.
  And i try and i fail - and my reflexes are poor and i miss opportunities and completely flub others. A friend told me that the only failure is if you don't learn from those lessons, and i guess that's true - but man, i'd like to have neil around when i'm down and lickin' my wounds. He's pragmatic, unemotional... and good. We're such an odd-ball match, but i can see how God saved us by putting us together and making us one.
  But what helps most of all is that i know that God has a hand - even in the comings and goings of a travelling salesman, and his little wife left at home. i know that my Father will use the circumstances of my life and that they'll allow me to grow, if i let them.
  So keep taking, Father, scrape away my security blankets, my comfort, my desire to be served. Do Your good work - and help me to be wise enough not to hinder it.

My heart has heard you say, "Come and talk with me." And my heart responds, "Lord, I am coming." psalm 27:8 NLT

firstborn

Cai's hair used to be like cotton candy. The only time it was ever smooth was when she was fresh out of the bath - we'd brush it down in broad strokes - right down to the tiny lip at the bottom that threatened to curl - and the next morning it would be a tiny seething mess of cotton, unwilling to remain tamed.
She had enormous blue eyes framed with thick lashes. Her forehead came with a dent across it, just like her daddy's. Her fingernails and toe nails were always chewed right down to the nub, and she wore her baby teeth out chewing on every hard plastic object she could find. She was smart... like crazy smart. She could memorize long passages - and was willing to perform them on demand. Yet even though she seemed to thrive on performance, she was intensely shy. People exhausted her and she was six before i saw her voluntarily make eye contact with an adult. She listened - and remembered what she heard. She understood nuances in adult conversation and implications beyond her years.
She was unique, my firstborn.
And now... on the very cusp of 16, she twists her neck elegantly to smile at her daddy as she works in the kitchen.
"Are you proud of me, dad? Are you proud that i'm in my second last year of highschool?"
And she catches him off guard - this gruff daddy-man. He suddenly wraps his arms around her thin frame and i wonder if i am the only one to catch the undercurrent in his tone as he tries to laugh, "Let's not talk about that right now..." (or ever... his voice implies).
And it scares us - to feel like children yet - while our children grow.
It scares me this wild fierce pride that comes in pounding waves of love and hope and surrender.
And her cotton hair is tamed, her nail beds repaired... Adulthood beckons.

marriage week

My friend Fawne over at Beauty in Weakness is blogging a week of marriage posts. She asked me to guest post today and so i wrote a little piece called, How to Fight With Your Husband.
You can check it out if you wanna :)
Neil has been on an epic business trip lately - so i emailed him a copy of it before i sent it to her. His response was, "I have tried several times to read it and my mind can't shut off long enough to read the whole thing. I'm sure it's really good. Make it happen."
i emailed him back, "You are the world's biggest slacker."
And then i sent him THIS picture off pinterest and asked if he had enough mental fortitude to follow it.
Then he started blocking my emails.
Just kidding - but i do miss that travelin' man... even if i am forced to fight with him on occasion...

love language

Totally unfair that mine is touch. 
He knows it too - he knew it way before i did and has used it to his advantage all these years since we became each other's. 
His is boring - acts of service... blehhhh. 
How to compare that crazed mind blown feeling when he touches me - to scrubbing out a toilet for him so that he feels my love too? 
But it's a give and take this mysterious love - it's an igniting and it's feeding - it's wanting and it's subduing - it's butterflies and chores - all working together to make something uniquely ours. 
And stutteringly i learn his language - just as he became fluent in mine. Carefully i memorize the cadence of the unfamiliar tongue that speaks to him my adoration. It will take me a lifetime to master it - sweet joy that the resulting work turns into a stunning masterpiece. 
And yes - sometimes a word - a touch - an action - is hopelessly mistranslated. Sometimes my faith fails me and i doubt that this pretty picture could really belong to us. Sometimes we choose to speak in our own languages and the beautiful meaning becomes meaningless to the one who finds the message to be indecipherable. 
But then - i pick up where i left off.  i learn the basics, he teaches me his alphabet and i show him mine.  We strip down our language barrier with our bare hands - and love wins. 

seven quick takes

1.  Sometimes we go to Costco.  Usually it's just the two of us - on a hot date to buy lettuce in bulk.  He never eats samples.  Ever. 
And to me, it's strange 'cause i love eating a piece of granola bar followed by a hunk of meat on a cracker with a pomegranate juice chaser.  One day i noticed him with an odd smirk on his face - watching a free sample table. 
"What's so funny?" i asked.
"Look at them... Everyone is the same.  They skulk around, peering nervously around themselves.  They circle past... then look back trying to be discreet.  They all have a goofy excited look on their face as they furtively grab the sample and run away as if they've stolen something." 
"They do?"
"Yeah.  They do."
So i went to the booth and asked loudly, "Can i have one for my husband over there too?  He's too shy to get his own." 
:) 
Just kidding... but i should'a.

2.  i'm panicking about homeschool this week.  Just ignore me.  It will pass.  Every so often, i get organized and i worry about the program i'm planning for each little student and then suddenly like Peter who takes his eyes off Jesus when he's walking on water... i sink.  It's a terrifying prospect for me to think of the education of my children... and i know that each one of them will "own" their own accomplishments and failures - but i can't help but taste a little of each win and loss as i watch them grow. 

3.  In light of my panic, i ran out to Neil's office this week during business hours.  i hovered over his desk, vibrating as he finished his phone call and finally looked up at me - all calm and cool, "What's up?"
"Neil!!  i need this certain type of bookshelf.  i need it right now!  i can't do homeschool without it and YOU HAVE TO BUILD IT FOR ME OR OUR CHILDREN WILL NEVER GRADUATE!!!  THEY WILL LEARN TO HATE US (me) FOR THEIR LACK OF QUALITY EDUCATION AND I CAN'T HANDLE THEIR LOATHING!!!!"
"Uh, yeah... i'm kind of busy right now.  Maybe later."
Choking back sobs, "If we all last that long..."
So, yeah... a little over dramatic over here.  You might want to avoid me for a few weeks till this blows over. 

4.  When people are rude or inconsiderate to my kids - i take it waaaaay harder than if it happens to me.  i want to teach them to have grace for adults who don't know how to treat children - because i can't control every moron in the world, but i can gently encourage my little ones to turn the other cheek.  It's still hard. 

5. This little instagram shot made my morning... it makes me want to keep writing - and to get better at it.  It is such a kindness that so many friends have read and encouraged me to keep going. 

6.  Sometimes i wish Ephraim weren't so consistently a morning person.  The occasional lapse in routine wouldn't hurt my feelings if it meant i could sleep in a bit... but the fact that he's such a happy little duck in the morning makes those early morning hours with just the 2 of us pass a little sweeter. 

7.   i woke up this morning surprised and dismayed that my coffee wasn't made for me. (THAT'S how spoiled i am!!)  Every morning that Neil's home, he makes a pot of coffee that is already simmering by the time i make it down stairs.  July has been a month of having Neil working from home more than away.  It has been a little oasis in the desert of "traveling man-dom". (Yes, i'm just making up words now).  i have been so grateful to have him around more.

Happy Friday :)

Thinking on the lovely...

Neil has been gone all week, but he'll be home late tonight. 
He sent me a text midweek that said, "Don't ask questions.  Pack a little overnight bag & be ready to leave Saturday noonish..."
(i had a dream that the text meant he was dropping me off at a stranger's house for a bbq while he went golfing.  Surely not?) 
i have to admit that there has been a lot of day dreaming going on since i got that text.  i find myself thinking on the lovely that this weekend will bring. 
Little ephraim has been sleeping with his mama this week.  He pats my cheek in the morning and asks for toast.  He's going through that whole 2 year old vocabulary explosion thing - and it's kind of awe inspiring to imagine that kind of growth is even possible.  Gagey is full of thoughtful, loving kindness - my sunshine boy - and the contrast between him and his stubborn, bossy little brother is hilarious.  It's beautiful to know even now, that their strengths will serve them in life; and that their weaknesses too - have opportunity to bring glory to God. 
Oh my little bonus boys... you make me think on the lovely. 
My little ones' prayers this morning;
"keep us safe."
"let it be fun."
"help me be good."
"thank you for mama."
And then we read about Solomon building a temple for the Name... His prayer of dedication,
"Lord, the God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven or on earth - you who keep your covenant of love with your servants who continue wholeheartedly in your way."
Love is such a strangely described state of heart in this day and age... My Father shows me - tenderly, gently, violently - what it really means. 
Oh, the lovely, the lovely, the lovely. 
And the sun warms up the earth and i smell the moisture being sucked from the ground i talk to my little ones about those verses in Isaiah:

¹⁰ As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
¹¹ so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

And i want to feel the rain of His words - accomplishing in me what He desires - achieving the purpose for which He sent them.  
And i find myself tripping over little minefields of important moments to convey - i gather them in my hands like a bouquet of wild flowers.  
He's whispering, "this is the lovely, daughter... think on these things." 
And i do - i do, i do, i do. 

Philippians 4:8

⁸ Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

everything's ok

Sometimes when he holds my hand and my pale fingers get completely envelopped in his warm brown paw... everything's ok.  Sometimes the aftershocks of a hard year are enough that i'll feel off balance and uncertain in a given moment... i've seen things that i've been afraid of since i was a little girl - and now that i've seen them in the flesh, i can't get the images out of my mind; they're like monsters with big scary teeth - only uglier. 

It's easy to count the strikes against us...
he's stubborn,
she's unrealistic,
he drinks too much,
she's anti-social,
he travels too much,
she wants too many children,
they got married too young,
they don't have enough money,
they're too different...
they'll never make it. 
And yes... on paper... the strikes against us look enormous. 
They do. 
They're enormous and intimidating. 

But then his thumb rubs the back of my hand and something deep inside me wakens.  The thing inside blinks like a tiny vulnerable babe - and i realize that there's always so much more to marriage than what can be counted in enormous, intimidating strikes by an outsider.  The love that wakens is tiny and vulnerable, yes... but it's also deep and strong - it's alive, precious and costly.  It's ours...
And sometimes when he holds my hand - suddenly everything's ok.

finding grace

My travelin' man was home for a couple of days over the weekend.  i had been crazy anticipating this time since he was gone 12 out of the first 14 days of June. 
But this time, he came home kinda cripply. 
He does that sometimes...  He has a bad back - and the chronic pain over the years has taken it's toll.  We've spent thousands trying different treatments and ideas, different pain killers, physio, chiropractor, doctors... but so far we haven't found any magical solutions. 
And most of the time, i don't notice that he's in pain.  He doesn't whine about it - so sometimes i'll notice because of a little catch in his breath when he rolls over or the rattling of the Advil bottle at 6am or the fact that it takes him several minutes to get in and out of the vehicle. 
And it's easy for me - as the person who is not in pain - to scorn grace.  It's easy to be frustrated with a quieter man, to think that he's growly because *OBVIOUSLY HE HATES ME*, or to get angry when i see the precious hours that we get together flying by - and he's got nothing to give. 
But suddenly - God gave me some fresh eyes.
It's like when my little ones are growly or tearful right before supper because they're hungry.  It's like when my teens get too little sleep and they can't understand why they feel like a grenade with the pin already pulled.  It must be horribly uncomfortable to live with pain constantly hovering...
Oh, Paige - grace, grace and more grace. 
And i could suddenly imagine the Herculean effort it took to take me out for that morning drive.  i could see how much he loved me when he didn't punch me in the face when i leapt on him laughing and grabbing his face - instead, he offered me the kisses he knew i craved.  i could see how home must feel like an oasis where he's not selling anything - and where all we want is him - cripply or not.  He's ours. 
God knows, Neil didn't choose to be in pain. 
And so i peek in forgotten corners, bringing little humbling bits of truth to light, i glance under thick uncomfortable layers... searching, searching, searching... and ultimately...
finding
grace.

father's day

We learned a travelin' man song for our travelin' daddy-man for father's day just for fun. 
& yeh... he's gonna come back. ;)

7 quick takes - dozenth edition

1. "i tried everything to get him to go to bed and nothing worked... i tried guilt, threats, snuggles, ignoring him... & nothing worked, not even when i told him he was making Jesus sad." - 13 year old girl.

2. Grandparent names are interesting.  We have a granny, gramps, gam, gamp, ancient one and gg (short for great-gramma).  The name, "Ancient One" still makes me laugh when i think about it too much.  Driving home from my girls' violin recital, they informed me that when i become a great grandparent that they are going to call me, "OP" short for "oldie-poldie".  Nice.  Needless to say, when they asked me to buy them pizza 2 minutes later, i declined. 

3.  i accompanied 8 students at the recital & i only stunk up one song.  Those songs are getting tough!!  i'm thinking a surcharge for any 7/8 time signatures is in order...  It's fun for me though to stretch this way & good for me to play music with my girlies. 

4.  It was probably the best either one of my girls has ever played at a recital... That's probably the way it should be eh?  It's exciting for me to watch them blossom as little musicians.  They audition next week for their fiddle groups & then we can all give a little cheer for the freedom of summer.  If you want a little teaser of Cai's recital piece you can watch it HERE.  Ignore me... i learned the piece the day before - & ignore the little boys creating havoc... (or don't... they're awfully cute).

5.  Neil's home for 3.5 days.  It's amazing how those days just slip through our fingers.  He always has so much work to catch up on when he is home... but it's a season & my prayer for these past 5 months of heavy traveling has been that God would help our marriage to become the beautiful reflection that it was designed to be... Love that. 

6.  Our food situation has been brutal lately - mostly because i have been so busy that a full grocery shopping trip hasn't happened in awhile, just the furtive, "Ahh!!  We're out of milk!!" "Eeep!! Need tomatoes for that!!"  "Arg - no peanut butter?"  tiny shopping trips.  That's not cutting it for a family with 7 little ones (with a couple hungry teens)... i gotta get back on that one & find some good, healthy, filling meals for when daddy's gone this time... i think a Costco run is in order :)  i love their 3 bean medley, brown rice & quinoa - nice fillers to go with whatever i make! 

7.Someone nominated me for the Top 25 Moms of Teens blog.  When i told Cai, i accidentally said, Top Teen Blog & she laughed at me cause i am one million years old. You can vote for me here - i'm currently somewhere in the top 25:

six minutes

i wish him here to grab his face and speak expressively into his ears...
It had been a crazy week... my husband called it, "an impossible week"... One of those weeks where you don't want to whine about it because people would say, "oh, just cancel out... pull your kids..." Not realizing that in our house, if we pulled our kids every time daddy was out of town and it would make for a tough go for mama, they'd never get the chance to do anything. 
So we bent and stretched for each other - we accepted the love and kindness of friends who loved my little ones for me and we made it work... as Neil says, "like we always do..."
But suddenly - on this Monday - as we start fresh and watch the appointments, laundry, grocery list, add up... i feel my mind just glaze over.  Blank. 
That's when i wish him here so strongly that i pick up my phone and laboriously type an email - all thumbs on that tiny phone keyboard...
"Ever feel like you're just done?  i feel like this weekend i was surfing and somehow, i fell off my surfboard and i'm stuck underwater and i don't know which way is up..."
Six minutes later he emails me back...
"i do get that way, yes.  Those are the days when you think i am pissed off.  It is actually 'cause i'm fried, done... It's not you."
i grin at our little kinship - i feel seen... He hears me and i love the man that never coddles.  i had this dream once of Neil and i dressed in full out warrior gear.  We were like characters off of Conan the Barbarian or something.  We each held a massive sword and our backs were to each other as we circled, prepared for an enemy attack.  That was the whole dream... just circling with Neil (in awesome clothes) back to back... i feel that way again.  Like a kind of crazed warrior... knowing that he's got my back and i'm gonna have his too. 
i feel the pounding of the surf overhead - i see a glimmer of light... the sound of the crashing waves overhead is dulled by the serenity of the water underneath the tumult.  If i swim that direction, then maybe...
Suddenly i break the surface of the water - lungs exploding, the cacophony of noise bursting in my ears and the roar of the waves crashing around me.

7 quick takes - mama i'm coming home edition

seven ways it's better when he's here:

1. i'm a different girl.  i'm more confident & carefree when he's home.  Personal growth stinks sometimes... i'd sometimes choose not to grow, but to just have him close.  (i can grow when he's here too, can't i God?)  Ok, i'd probably always choose that... but that's why it's cool that i have no choice. (Working on a blogpost on that for next week...)

2. i go to bed at a reasonable time when he's here.  When he's gone, i stay up way too late *thinking*.  Wrong choice.  Sleep rules.  i need more of it. 

3. He brings the fun.  He initiates every trip we ever go on, he is the one who plays hardest in the swimming pool & he's the one who takes them skiing. 

4.  We're way less likely to get outta control when the noise police is in town.  He's also the tidy police & the "GET IN BED IT'S WAY PAST YOUR BEDTIME" police.  Sometimes it's nice to have the po-po in town - order in chaos?  Underrated. 

5.  He's warm.  i use him to regulate my temperature.  To be fair, i cool him off with my ice cube feet - so we're probably even on that score, right? 

6.  i shower way less frequently when he's out of town.  i'm cool with that, but the rest of my family might appreciate the personal hygiene that i choose to initiate when papa's around. 

7.  i like him.  He smells good.  He's nice to look at.

ps - looking for coming home theme songs... :)  Got any suggestions?  It's kind of fun to blast coming home songs at the end of the travelling week... (& i think i can do better than the Ozzy Osbourne song i referred to in the title... it's a little depressing :) even though i secretly love it because Neil will sometimes call & sing, "Cause mama, mama i'm comin' hoooommee..."

sweet 16

i want to write about Neil.
We're tip-toeing over the edge of our 16th wedding anniversary - & he's been on my mind a lot.  i tried to put it into words... into his ears the other morning... what his love - and our marriage have meant to me. 
But at this point - 16 years in - i still feel like a baby in this game - & my thoughts came out all jumbled & confused - & so he just held me, like he so often has to do these days when words come hard fought and the tenderness of touch makes communication so much easier...
i feel like my marriage to Neil has been a softness:
i love that man.  i love him with a complete and utter vulnerability.  It especially feels vulnerable when i watch marriages crumble around me, or hear vicious whispers from all sorts of dark corners that have become unsafe.  Our love has flashed colour and texture like an old quilt drying on the laundry line - caught in the breeze... Symbolic of warmth and comfort and home - but bringing a strange beauty to the outdoor elements as it billows and rolls in the wind.
i feel like my marriage to Neil has been a hardness:
i have learned to love that man from a distance - as his work has taken him away from me.  He's a travelling man - & that aching and yearning for him has become a familiar flavour in my mouth - rather than just fading away into ambivalence.  i learned to get stronger (often failing miserably many times before i get there), to drive the big beast of our van at night or in snowstorms.  i learned to run the house without him here - to laugh louder when i miss the timbre of his voice, and to brazenly spout honestly to my littles whenever i feel that i must, "i miss daddy."  (And in return, they've learned to roll their eyes and smile indulgently, "Really, mom?  You've never said so before...")
But mostly... i feel like my marriage to Neil has been a stretching:
i see a picture in my mind of a limber set of dancers dancing the most exquisite stretching steps - the give and the take, the wide swooping gestures, the dip - without dropping and the chase before the catch - the breathtaking arc flown - and the exhilaration that trumps exhaustion... & no... i'm not a dancer... but my heart soars when i see some dancers dance; so urgently, so passionately & so vulnerably. & that's how we dance, Neil & i... in these sweet, beautiful years we find ourselves in.  He calls me on things that i need to be called on.  & i do the same.  He doesn't shame me, but he makes me think of the areas of my life where i indulge myself with thoughtlessness.  God has seen fit to choose to use Neil - singly - to bring about the hardest changes in my character, and to allow me to see truth a little more readily, vividly and peacefully.  This beautiful stretching eclipses both the hardness & the softness - epitomizing the heart of what marriage means. 
So... here's the nerdy part.  i hate reading the endless posts from adoring wives in sappy anniversary prose, & i apologize to my future self reading this saying, "really, Paige?  You couldn't hold yourself back??"  but... it has never been more true than it is right now... & yes, self... i must.  So here it is. 
Bess... i love you more now than i did when we said our, 'i do's' with out backs up against the world & bitter fools speaking discouragement into our fresh new union.  i love you more now than when you fed me fried chicken and listened to Gwen Stefani when my grief was too much for either of us to bear.  i love you more now than i did when you cut that silly cartoon out of the newspaper that signaled that maybe one day, we'd have more than five children.  i love you more now than i did when you brokenly said you were sorry my parents were getting a divorce... & you knew that i was so very, very sorry too. 
i choose you - again & again & again.  i choose you with your work flying you away, with your grey creeping in & with nay-sayers who have nothing better to do than to imagine the strikes we have against us. 
i wasn't engineered to be the kind of girl who's able to hold anything back. 
So i won't. 
Yours. 
p

a little lovin'

i felt like writing, so i did. 
My fingers flew over the keyboard, unrestrained... a thing they haven't done as much this past year... & i will post it... a seemingly fluff post... a love note, a bellowing moment of adoration for marriage. 
But before i do... i'll post this, a gentle opener before the bullhorn:

Neil & i sneak into the seniors home to peek at our girl playing violin.  She stands taller than me in her flats & pleated tartan skirt.  She pulls her hair back and ties it with a ribbon and her sweet softy smile flashes from the stage as she finds me grinning back at her; her toe taps & her hips sway. 
Neil sinks into a plush arm chair out of her sight, & i let my gaze meander around the cheerful little room full of wheelchairs, walkers, oxygen tanks and grey hair. 
One tiny woman catches my eye - and i watch her smiling at the children who are performing with verve and skill. 
Then she wrings her bent little hands. 
They're twisted with arthritis; massive swollen bones with hardly any flesh to pad them.  Her dainty blue veins colour them as she gently rubs one with the other, and then her fingers grope in familiarity the thin gold bands that adorn her left hand. 
As she does so, my fingers suddenly fly to find my golden bands; circling the same finger on my left hand. 
& i don't know her story.  i don't know where the man is who placed those rings there, or how many years ago the vows were spoken...
But i know that in 16 years, my rings have worn away the flesh around my ring finger - the symbol that i wear of the commitment i made has made a mark on my physical body.  My body has worn, and the stretch marks on my stomach bear witness to the family that we've grown...
Her gesture is hardly one to be noticed - but i do notice... the way her fingers linger on rings that are so worn, the gold has thinned to threadlike proportions in some places.  i watch as she tenderly twists the bands that i imagine have been there for decades - i doubt they could be removed now... even if she wanted to remove them over joints bent with arthritis and age...
And i glance at Neil - catching his dancing hazel eyes & he grins at me.  His smile still makes my stomach flip flop - & as i twist my ring, i can't help but hope that one day - when we're old... and our hands are creased and worn and tired - we'll still wear our gold bands - & in familiarity, we'll reach for, find and caress the aching hands of the one we love.