purpose

i blog because i like to write. i'm a stay at home mama with my nest full of chickies and i know this season is so short and so many of my memories are fleeting. My Father's lessons are coming thick and fast - and i want to try to capture some of the journey that He has brought me on... and will bring me through.
But during 40 Days for Life, i do let my little blog slip and slide as i blog over HERE.
During 40 Days for Life - i blog because i want to be obedient - and i feel burdened for my country and this culture that finds abortion acceptable. During 40 Days for Life, i blog for Caleb and Hope and Tiny - because my mama heart refuses to deny their value as tiny human persons who never got to live outside my womb. During 40 Days for Life - i facilitate others sharing their prolife stories on a public blog because i think that our community of prolife believers needs to grow - both in numbers and in courage.
If you have a prolife story to share (or you just want to be encouraged in your prolife journey), i invite you to come check out our Calgary 40 Days for Life blog.
i won't forget about my tiny bit of home turf here... i'll be 'round... :)
www.calgary40dfl.blogspot.com

i would have

Sometimes it takes a minute - or a month - to catch your breath. 
That's how i feel about you, Tiny. 
i thought that maybe since you were so wee - and my husband so unready... i thought that since i was so overwhelmed and my children so unsuspecting - that maybe i just wouldn't have to hurt over your Homecoming... quite so much. 
But there's this queer little ache that refuses to be shushed. 
You lived. 
And i don't care if i'm thought ridiculous anymore. 
i don't care. 
i don't need or want to talk with anyone about it - but it seems i'm incapable of escaping grief altogether... and so in this sojourning place... i'll just whisper the words of this post...
i would have loved you, Tiny. 
i would have defended your existence to your hesitant daddy.  i would have cleared out a tiny spot for you to lay your downy head.  i would have gone though morning sickness, stretch marks, discomfort and illness... in a heartbeat.  i would have taken the disapproving looks of friends and strangers...
i would have protected you with every ounce of strength i have...
if i'd have had the chance. 

peeking 'round

i love how Hannah in the Old Testament describes her prayer life as, "pouring out my soul to the lord." (1 Samuel 1:15)

i love Him.
 
And i love what He is doing in me. 
i am convinced that He won't allow anything to separate us. 
The other day - while pouring out my soul to the Lord - i found that my soul lacked words... so i found myself telling Him, "i'm listening, i'm willing, i choose you, i say yes..." And then waiting quietly...
And sometimes prayer feels so stuttering and one sided that i'm tempted not to do it at all.  And after a long silence - or after many wooden, perfunctory prayers offered without any soul pouring - i find myself opening one eye, and peeking 'round for my Creator. 
"Are you really there?"
And He is.
"i want you."
And He knows i do.
"i want to be yours."
And He claims me. 
"i don't want anything else - i just want You."
And He loves me. 
"i love this life - and i don't want to waste it - can you show me how to live?"
And He will. 
And i'm finding that He's got my heart - and i trust Him so completely with it - that there's no where else i'd rather be. 

Losing Tiny

i've never had a miscarriage so early that i found out what i lost before i even knew that i had it. 
It's a strange thing to understand you're pregnant and that you're losing the baby - all in the same breath - a feeling of wonder drenched in sorrow and dread. 
And so i will name you Tiny.  Tiny wonder that did me the honour of breaking my body - making sure that i knew you were there - that you lived. 
i texted my husband in shock - telling him i was miscarrying a baby we never knew i was pregnant with.... and in tenderness, he sent the comfort and the acknowledgement i needed.
And so the loveliness of our time away was touched with the intimate sorrow... of losing Tiny.
And i find my own grief to be strange - there are a million flavours to it... and i'm unable to articulate a single one.
And i don't want to talk.  i don't want to play and sing.  i don't even want to think or cook or clean.   i don't need anything from anyone - & i feel physically fine.  i'm tired of my own flesh and i find i'm most comfortable wrapped around Ephraim waiting for Time to work her magic and make the sting a little less...
Next year will bring fewer moments endured - and more moments enjoyed, right? 
Regardless, i trust Him.  Job 1:21