& no one was chasing me either...

i ran.

i didn't want to tell anyone 'cause it's embarrassing. i'm not very proud of my stick-to-it-iveness. i use to really, really like running in highschool. i'm always a little curious & intrigued when i find out people run long distances - & there's a part of me that has always wondered if i could ever do that too. But, then i say to myself, 'Self, there is no way that you will do that for more than a week... this is just a passing fancy, stick to what you're already doing poorly... no need to add to that pile...' (i know! Not very nice eh?)

But, i never seem to leave the house... & if i go for walks with the littles - there is so much dilly dallying - & on & off the bike, stroller - i hurt my foot, i'm cold, i wanna go home, i wanna play at the park... hold me.... that i never get a chance to get winded. So, in honour of my biggest 4 children training for their triathlon in August, i ran.

The first time, i got all dressed up with my runners on, my hair in a pony tail & went out to Neil's office where he was on the phone & jogged in place pantomiming my running prowess while he glared at me & motioned for me to go away. i waved smiling & went with the a couple of kids on bikes for a little loop. To my amazement - i could actually run... (ahem... jog) i got home & my cheeks were pink, & i ran out to Neil's office & did a little victory lap & annoyed the crap out of him. (Seriously, anyone wanna start bets on how long he can stand having his office in the garage?? - no, honestly, he loves it - he just has to keep up his gruff appearance...)

i discovered some new & interesting facts.

If i go for a run - i leave these walls that seem - with our delayed spring - to be tumbling in on me some days. Running is not a discriminating date. i don't have to have my hair done (but it helps if i'm gonna go show off for Neil first...) or have showered... i can even wear my pj pants if i feel like it. When i run, it has a beginning and an end. Tic. i can check that off. Completed, task accomplished, done. If i go for a run, i don't have to feel bad that i am avoiding the toilets and dusting...

Running won't have hurt feelings if this is just a fling - & neither should i.

My Plate

i feel almost guilty sometimes.

i have friends who are busy -continually - with doctor's appointments, poor health, demanding jobs, sadness - (yes, you can be busy with sadness... ) With joy - sleepless baby nights, working on milk supply, constantly giving, going - with the tasks that are just a normal part of *life*.

i've found lately that my plate is getting lighter. My 'biggies' are starting to outnumber my 'littles'. It has been beautiful to me to see my guys becoming more self-sufficient - & sure helps me to drink in this (short) phase of Gagey's babyhood. (i know, if anyone is reading this, they're likely rolling eyes correcting me... fine -'toddlerhood' - but c'mon, give a girl a break here!)

So, some things on my plate have grown legs and walked away - some have been gently removed by others & i find myself saying, as i've heard my husband say on a good day, 'This game is easy.'

It's not easy - sometimes i wish if things were removed from my plate, it could be toilets and dusting... but we don't always get to choose what our jobs are & like it or not, i don't think toilets and dusting are going *anywhere*. (Right now, i'm scratching my head, trying to remember when the last time is that i did those 2 disliked chores & i'm thinkin' it's time i actually did them instead of whining about them! hehe)

So, i try to stave off the babyfever - & choose other healthy, good activities to round out my plate & keep me working hard. It's hard though - that desire & openness for life seems somehow to have been hardwired into me - & it's like a nervous energy that i'm trying to cap & i don't quite know what to do with it. Seems so unnatural to work against it.

& then, if you let it, your plate can just stack itself higher & higher with those toilets and dusters - & pretty soon that's all you would do - if you let it go that far.

So, i'm being choosy... i'm keeping my blog on my plate because it is like a nice piece of broccoli (let's be clear here - i love broccoli) a little outlet to hear my own heart... amidst the increasing volume in my home... i'm gonna set some nice short term physical goals for me & my guys as they train for their triathlons in August... i'm gonna ask God to help me say, "Yes, please" & "No, thank you" as the opportunities are passed. & i promise... i'll do the toilets and dusting at some point too.

& i'm gonna look upon what seems to me to be a nicely balanced plate - in this season of my life - with gratitude.

blogging

That morning, bright and early, i got up and worked for over an hour on an idea for a blogpost that i had started the night before. Everyone was still asleep & in the quiet, i could just write whatever i felt like.
The ideas just flowed & took the exact shape that i wanted them to. When i proofread it, all i had to do was add an 's' or a comma. & then blogger froze... & after a few stupid errors on my part, i lost my post.
i felt *horrible*. It was a post where i felt like i finally got down in words something that i've always sort of felt & wondered. i went back & rewrote what i could remember, but the words were blocky & didn't flow. There were some ideas that went back to being 'thoughts without words' & i never did capture them again. & then the kids got up... my house got noisy. i feel like i could cry.
If it were a post about anything but Caleb & Hope - i don't think i would care. But, i feel like i lost a little tiny piece of something very precious that i very much wanted to have been able to put into words.
*sad*.
i reworked the post as well as i could & that is what i posted yesterday.
Still not the same - but... what can you do?
Blogging to me has become a bit of a release.
A place to bear my heart - to discover the things that are most important to me...
To possibly capture some fleeting moments, thoughts, images from these years...
To point to Jesus.
As you can see from my sidebar, i'm trying my best to try to start labeling my posts... 's not as much fun as you would think. It's gonna take me awhile, but hopefully in the end it will help my blog be more readable. And maybe when reading posts about Caleb and Hope, more people will meet The Comforter - My King - My Jesus.
i started this blog with the intent that my focus would be prolife.
i'm learning daily that being a momma *is* some of the most important prolife work happening out there. i hope that this little spot on the world wide web brings glory to God.

The Story...

We each have one - don't we...
The story of our lives - the sweet intermingling of different people who touched us, moved us & made us who we are... The ones who have grown alongside us - winding the vines of their story through our own, till it's impossible to tell one from the other.
i was struck the other day with the idea that -
little Caleb has a story too.
Little son of my heart - whose brief life was lived in it's entirety in my womb. Whose mama only got to lay her eyes on him when he was already gone.
My memory holds you tenderly, with your precious face laying on your exquisite hand. Peaceful babe - not ready to be born.
Oh, son, your story is like a little vine - grafted into me.
i felt the cut when your story sliced into me - & i thought at the time- that maybe i was too damaged by that cut & that neither one of us would make it. Slowly, where you were grafted in, a little bud began to grow. Over time, the wound no longer hurt as badly as it once did... and i felt that the graft was complete... i could hardly tell where one began & the other ended. i looked different than i would have, had you not been grafted into me. i was like a maple tree that could grow lilies because of you, or sweetpeas because of Hope. i could never have done that before.
When Hope went home early too, i felt like an expert gardener. The wound was gaping, but i knew better now,the blessing that this little one was - and that Hope would always, always be a part of me. Not in a new age mystical way - but in the way that my Father had allowed me to be changed by a little baby that nobody else even got to meet.
Hope was grafted in, like Caleb before.

i am a monster tree.

My branches seeming to morph before your eyes. The tendrils of my children trailing around my roots.
There is sadness - but not despair. There is longing, but it's sustained by Hope. There is a future - and it's a heavenly one. These little ones cause me to keep my eyes firmly locked on my Father - who is faithful to provide what we need.
For now, i will encourage these little grafts, and every leaf and branch and fiber of my being, to point to Jesus - i will allow my sorrow, and it's beautiful fruit to be seen.
A mama will never forget that which has become a part of her.
Heaven means finally feeling complete.

Take 3... (i promise this will be the last one)

i commented in my last post about the fun(niness) of being out & about with my sisters.

We each arrived from our corner of the province - tired. i won't go into every intimate detail about why we were tired... let your imagination be your guide. (If right now you're picturing travelling with 6 children in a cramped Honda van... keep goin'. If you're picturing the baby screaming everytime he wants something & a fight breaking out in the backseat over a McDonalds toy... yeh, you're on the right track... Throw in some noisy conversation and shushing children while daddy has a business meeting on his blackberry - gettin' warmer... )

After checking into the hotel, we headed over to the Shaw conference center for our sound check. Stephanie brought her camera & we regret not taking pictures both with the security guards from the Shaw and also with Ed Stelmach's personal security - (he looked so tough & cool with the little curly ear piece!) (See above for evidence of us harrassing the RCMP with our photo requests... By the end of the breakfast, people who we *didn't* ask for a photo with them were probably wondering what was wrong with them... )

We were giddy.

i think that's when it started.

Being overtired & in the company of my sisters is a little like intoxication. Suddenly everything was funnier... we weren't nervous - we've sung together for decades - and these songs were completely familar to us. This was fun - we were out of our elegance element completely - and we were gonna milk it.

After the sound check, we headed back for the fancy dinner. i decided that Gagey's snot was not my preferred accessory, so i changed. Stephanie put on lipstick, Jess borrowed my make up. We kissed the babies goodbye & headed off.

They went around the table with each person having a chance to say a piece... When Jessica (who went first out of us girls) introduced herself as the mother of 6, the room errupted in applause. Then, it was my turn... our resumes are so similar, so i got a round of applause too... & they shouted at Stephanie... "C'mon!! You can make it 18!!" She slyly held up 7 fingers... That sealed the deal. We were our own little freak show.

Indeed. That is us... the mothers of 19.

i can't skip ahead to the next morning... i have to add a little bit about what happened all during the wee hours of the night...

First of all... a delicious supper that was not prepared by us - beef, potatoes, veggies, salad. Yummy punch... chocolate dipped strawberries... None of which Jessie got to eat. She was called away after having maybe 4 forkfulls. Little Wes is teething & needed his mama... badly. As a matter of fact, i think she might have some permanent hearing damage from when she answered the call from her husband - wailing Wess in the background... Pushing his request into the foreground... She left early - & i don't think there was even any leftover pizza from the boys' little pizza party with the kids for her to eat...

Stephanie & i asked them to leave her plate, hoping she could make it back... got them to leave her a desert too - which we ended up leaving when it was time to go & obvious that she wasn't coming back.

Then, we went to our rooms. We did a little switcharoo, as they had messed up our rooms, and given her the bigger room (she only brought 2 children) so she took 2 of mine & we headed off to bed.

That's when the fun began.

Poor sweet Gage... had *no* idea what was expected of him... To sleep in this foreign place? Not to butt his head all over his siblings? To quit talking and settle into dreamland? That couldn't possibly be what we wanted... This confusion, fueled by a healthy dose of hyper kept me shushing, nursing, backrubbing, snuggling 'till the wee hours... When, at 3am, i knew i would have to move my arm to get it into a comfortable position... i knew i was taking a risk that it would disturb my *finally* sleeping baby... but i did it anyway. When i glanced at him again, he was standing, holding onto the backboard jumping.

hehe - funny guy...

i guess Jessie & Stephanie's nights were pretty similar to mine. Our final soundcheck the next morning was "between 6:30 & 7"... so at the bum crack of dawn, i roused my weary self from the bed... leaving a snoozing prince snuggled in daddy's arms... and had a long, hot shower.

Let me tell you what having about 3 hours of sleep does to a 32 year old mama of 6. It makes even the mundane, daily things... really, really, really funny. The snow that started when we were walking to the Shaw, Jessie's husband whistling and cat calling as we crossed the street in our slippery heels... even the tiny ketchups on the table that Jess kept threatening to steal. When i almost fell through my chair (they were wobbly!!)... How about when someone asked me for our contact info & i had to rummage past the cloth diapers and sleeper in my purse to find a pen? Or when, sitting at the table of musicians and security, Stephanie suggested we should have been seated, "mistrel, knight, minstrel, knight" & i *howled* & smacked the table & the whole thing shook... i think i even made the security jump. (i KNOW, that's only funny to a 13 year old boy with pocket protectors and a nasal voice...).

*sigh*

The preface reads: 3 sister mamas escape for breakfast on the town... hilarity ensues.

The End.