stumbling blocks and stepping stones

Dear Lord remove my stumbling bocks. These are the words we long to utter and have answered right away. These are the wishes of my heart. Make clear my path and guide me along.

That morning we left was cold. I was chilled - chilled through flesh right to bone. The sky, grey and wet. Jackets and sweaters adorned our shoulders. We knew that we would some be able to shed these layers, but for the time they offered warmth and comfort, until such a time . .

The plane took off through rain and fog. It rose higher and higher until at last we passed through those dark clouds. And then it filled the entire sky right through the windows of the plane and into cold flesh. The sun - it is always there. This thought so obvious, yet never pondered. No matter the .... that loom over head, behind all of that, always, and forever, the sun shines on, never ceasing.

Life is filled with all sorts of days. Some are filled with blinding light, yet many are filled with sorrow, weakness and pain. Our job is to never lose sight of the sun and when at times it is lost from view we need remember it is still there and it with always burst through those clouds.

He is always there. We may be left to feel the chill for a time, but that does not mean that he is not there. Nothing dims the sun. It is all perspective. We need to learn how to rise above, reaching for that sun that will live our lives with light and hope and peace and joy. 

We walk forward on straight path heading forever forward, but this is not enough.



We must head upward as well.

We turn these stumbling blocks into stepping stones when we approach them in faith.

The choice is up to us. These hard things, these ugly trials, out tests of faith are the very things that become stpes up to heaven if we but view them with eyes eternal.

Our vision is cleared, our perspective is solidifided and as we arise we begin to discover that the sun always shines. It is constant ans strong, and always there even if we cannot see it. behind those

 clouds, up above those stumbling blocks it shines on, forever giving its warmth and brightness and light to all who will make the climb. 

a mother's intuition and a bouncing baby boy

Five out of five - those are pretty good odds. Never have I been wrong! I have known somehow, somewhere inside what each and every child I grew under my heart was going to be before any test or medical professional confirmed my feelings.

When I was expecting my first child they would not tell me whether the baby was a girl or a boy, but so confident was I that we decorated every inch of the nursery with the expectation of pigtails. As my due date approached, I had one moment of panic as I stood in her room and realized that I did not know for sure. What if our baby was a boy? Nevertheless, 10 days late, Noelle finally blessed our lives and started our family with a much anticipated daughter.

when not enough is enough

I have given all I have, there is nothing left to give. And it is still not enough. This is what my mind would tell me, and worry finds an open door and takes a front seat. 

I cannot give it all, but I can give all I have. Some days 

I have hesitated writing this post for days now.

After all, who wants to hear it? Who wants to remember it?

But for those of you who love me and have inquired, here it is in all its splendour.

I am miserable. I feel like some super-bug has invaded my body and is going for total annihilation. My poor children have been fending for themselves in between others coming in here and there to rescue them from my unwilling abandon. The guilt grows every day.  The house is falling apart, amidst the efforts of my mother-in-law trying to keep things together at the seams. When I hear her working away I want to tell her that she doesn't have to do that, but on the other hand I want to cry for gratitude - if she doesn't do it, who will? (I must give credit to my children who have tried to be helpful and to my husband who comes home every day after work to a messy house and hungry children - enter guilt once more.) I have not slept well for weeks as my body has decided that it needs to wake up and use the bathroom every hour ALL NIGHT LONG!

Somewhere in the middle of all of this perspective is lost. Life changes. And you wonder if it will
ever be the same again. I hate this illness. How can something so good feel so bad? I begin to feel as though it will never end and that I am not expecting a baby at all, put surviving an attack on my entire existence. Anger hits . . . and I entertain it for a moment. Somewhere between the prayers and the bathroom everything is lost in translation. I speak words of acceptance. I pray that I will be willing to accept His will for me, and yet I don't believe it. You see you can desire acceptance while longing for relief. I don't want to suffer this out. I want it taken away. Day after day, night after night, I begin to feel alone and unheard. I want to be better and I want to be better now. And when I am to exhausted to fight anymore and I feel beaten, it is then that the thought comes to my mind, Why do I want to be better? And as soon as I am will I forget at least in part my dependence on Him.  This nightmare has a fairly tale ending (I pray). I will get better. This will pass. I will be okay. As much as I have forgotten what it even is to feel normal, I will once more.

And yet if I were to be totally honest I would have to say that when this phase is finished I will still have the reality of adding another soul to our family. The idea is daunting! I love this baby - love has nothing to do with it, but can I care for so many children? Can I, weak and flawed as I am, do a good job at raising people?

I read this quote among another amazing piece of written word, "You don't get to make up most of your story. You get to make peace with it." Perspective returns and I understand. No matter how well we plan, no matter how well we organize, things will happen. Life will throw us curve balls, and we will feebly swing, missing the mark and wondering what is wrong with us, with this. These curve balls can bring us to our end, no strategies left to attempt. And this is where God would have us come, not to stay, but to learn and then move on. This is where we make peace with our lives. Once we have let go the anger, hurt, surprise, unknowing, and reliance on our own strength, then can He step in and do his work. Then will the peace come, His peace. You see God does not sit around tallying all the times me mess up, all the things left on our to-do list at the end of the day. He is already and has always been at peace. He will count my prayers for acceptance of this illness, He will add up my good deeds for the day, even when they are grossly out numbered by the opposite. He will take all I have and ask nothing more and fill in where I lack.

What a lovely way of saying how much you love me

I had big plans. If it were ever to happen again I would keep it to myself for as long as possible this time, because you see I would not get sick. This time would be different.

Happen it did. And it began with high hopes. But as the nausea grew, excitement faded. Slowly life began to shut down, life as I know it anyhow. The hope that had filled my heart, hope of health and strength is overcome with despair. I cannot do this again. I am not strong enough.

I lie in bed. I re-read this and cry for myself. This is my fate. This is the course my body will always take when new life grows inside. This is the road I am left to travel, and it feels too hard. It is too much to bear. Why did I hold out hope?

Because hope is the only option. It is all you have when faced with hardship. If we begin without hope we end without vision. I believe in the mercy of a God who loves me, I believe He could remove this burden from me, but when He doesn't I am left to wonder and wander. Hope slowly, but surely evaporates, although not entirely as I had first suspected.

In my desperation to fill minutes that tick ever so slowly on, I find this and I cry again, but not for myself this time, for the loss of another and the health of new life growing in me. 

Hope for a different kind of pregnancy than my body seems capable of providing is gone, hope of being able to carry this secret surprise until it would no longer be hidden behind carefully chosen clothing and well positioned arms, the hope of health, the strength to maintain a sense of normalcy for my family, and an ability to remain engaged with my husband and children is gone. But the hope itself has not disappeared, only has it changed identity without my even realizing. 

The worry of how I will ever find the time and energy to care for another human being is replaced with the shadow of a fear of how will I ever be the same if I don't get that opportunity. It is then that I discover that I am not without hope, that hope simply has a new home, in womb under heart. It is the hope for the unborn, it is a hope of health and wholeness for this tiny person. No longer does my suffering matter, no matter what must be waded through, I will do it with renewed hope in new life.

Yet the chance remains that my fate could follow the pathway to loss.

Whatever happens, whatever the outcome, I must remember that His purpose, not mine will be accomplished. If that means a baby in my arms at the end of this journey or one more soul up heaven, is not mine for the deciding. He is holding me as I hold this promise of a child.

Yet the truth of my state lingers still as I remain out of commission. And when the guilt and the worry become all too much and I wake in the morning crying - I don't even know what they've eaten for the past week, or if they even remember that they have a mother, much like the lost boys, do they know I am here even though I am not there - it is then that my very own seven year old "lost boy" walks in with hot pancakes and says, "Breakfast in bed! . . . Do you know that we all love you mom, and that we are all trying to take care of you?" How could I not? It is I who should be caring for you, but instead it is them taking care of me.

I wish I could report that I was graceful in trials and patient in affliction. I cannot. However, I can say that hope remains, that, and the love of my family, the tender strength of my husband and the willing support of friends will see us through.

Hopefully . . .

Ode to Sunshine {Inspired by Dr. Seuss and The Cat in the Hat}

The sun did not shine.

It was too wet to play.

So we sat in the house 

All that cold, cold, wet day.

We sat there together.

We sat there, us all.

Only dad worked outside 

As the rain, it did fall.

For five days it poured.

For five days it rained.

Until our poor mother

thought she might go insane.

She schooled us and schooled us

'Til we each had enough.

What we need, our dear mother

Is more interesting stuff.

Books are amazing, 

Books are such fun.

But what children like best

Is to play in the sun.

We read books of adventure,

Learn of lands far away,

But the way we learn best

Is to put books into play.

We dig down to China,

Find treasure in sand.

We travel to Hogwarts -

 What a magical land.

From up in the tree tops

We spy pirates on sea.

Grab your swords mates, get ready -

Black Beard it may be!

These games can be played 

While inside the house.

But, dear mother, we've noticed

Your hair falling out.

We are noisy and loud

As you full well know.

 Our imaginations, dear mother 

They need room to grow.

One day, no problem,

Quite possibly two.

But five days of rain?

That will just never do. 

Just when we thought 

Our dear mother would crack,

We woke up this morning

And what had come back?

Birds where chirping and singing

Way up in the trees,

For the sun had returned.

We all felt so pleased.

We are leaving the house!

Our dear mother exclaimed.

We are driving away 

Before someone gets maimed.

Pack your bags, get your shoes

Grab a snack so your fed.

We will not be returning 

'Til the sun goes to bed.

Then sweet little children,

When your good and sleepy,

We'll come back to our house.

I no longer feel weepy!

Upstairs we will climb,

And your prayers will be said.

I will kiss you all sweetly

And tuck you in bed.

Then, my dear children,

My thanks I'll express,

For this day of sunshine -

Dear Lord, I feel blessed.

I thank thee for rain.

It waters our crops.

The problem is simply

When it just will not stop.

The sunshine you see, 

It does so much more

 Than to simply feed plants.

It makes spirits soar!

Now children grow strong 

From the foods they consume. 

But the sunshine they get, 

It drives away gloom.

If you want happy children, 

And a mother that's sane,

Add lots of sunshine,

instead of just rain. 

rising above

That morning we left was cold. I was chilled - chilled through flesh right to bone. The sky, grey and wet. Jackets and sweaters adorned our shoulders. We knew that we would some be able to shed these layers, but for the time they offered warmth and comfort, until such a time . .

The plane took off through rain and fog. It rose higher and higher until at last we passed through those dark clouds. And then it filled the entire sky right through the windows of the plane and into cold flesh. The sun - it is always there. This thought so obvious, yet never pondered. No matter the .... that loom over head, behind all of that, always, and forever, the sun shines on, never ceasing.

Life is filled with all sorts of days. Some are filled with blinding light, yet many are filled with sorrow, weakness and pain. Our job is to never lose sight of the sun and when at times it is lost from view we need remember it is still there and it with always burst through those clouds.

He is always there. We may be left to feel the chill for a time, but that does not mean that he is not there. Nothing dims the sun. It is all perspective. We need to learn how to rise above, reaching for that sun that will live our lives with light and hope and peace and joy. 

falling into grace

"This is not the way my life was supposed to be. This was not part of the plan." Hearts ache for what has been done, those things we cannot change. Those things we did not plan.

Small shoulders sag under the weight. How did this happen? How could this be? I was so careful in my plans.

A wet piece of paper holding up a bowling ball, this is how ones life can feel at times. What happens when the paper tears and the ball is dropped? Where do we fall? When the pain is too much, what then? At first glance it appears that we have fallen right from grace.

But such is not the case. In fact it is the self-constructed pedestal of pride from which we have fallen - and it hurts . . .

The son, not quite a man, but no longer just a boy, fishes with his father. They bait the hook, attach the lure. The trap is set. Then father teaches son all about lures. To entice is their purpose. To entice is also his, that one who truly fell from grace and wants to drag us down with him, bound with flaxen cords. "There are different kinds", he says, "For different fish like different things. But his tackle box is full, and he knows which lure to use." Beware the deceiver.

A fish is dropped between the planks of the dock, left there to die by someone else who could not be bothered - that life, so seemingly insignificant. It is only a flounder, after-all. Trapped between wood and styrofoam, unable to save itself. But the son sees purpose. His line is put down the crack in hopes that the fish will bite and then be pulled to safety. It will not take the bait. Doesn't it know we are trying to help? No. For this is the plan of the father of all lies. The lure is not safe, we have learned this. We have been burned in the past. We would rather risk the unknown than to take that lure. Sometimes something that looks like hurt is actually help. And sometimes we do not even see it anymore. Hopelessness can be so blinding.

There are many lessons for us to learn. The lessons of forgivness and tolerance and love, pure love - these are not easy lessons to learn. 

We pray for what we know, for those things we can easily understand, but God's ways are not always familiar. He takes us through depths we never asked to go. He knows what we can do, and how the seemily insurmountable task it is to be done. When fog clouds our vision, only He can see through. He shows us the way because He is the way. Some parts of us may have to die in order to make place for something so much better to live and grow.

It is at times such as these when someone so much stronger than ourselves must pull on that board - that cross and those nails - lifting it free from its hold over us. And a hand reaches down. It wraps around us, warm and strong and secure. That flounder is literally scooped up - up out of the pit - and placed back into living waters.

The Son sees purpose.

Even in this.

Even for me.

This is Christ's mission. This is what He came to earth to do, this is why He bids us to come unto Him. He is the fisher of men. He came to rescue all us flounders stuck in deep mire, unable to free ourselves. No matter the cause. Maybe we jumped in. Maybe we took the bait and bit that lure, only to be cast aside by the one who would leave us for dead. Maybe we were placed in the cracks through the actions of others. And now we cannot see the way for the way seems impossible. How will we ever get out? Can there really be one mighty enough to save?

No one can come unto the Father except by the Son.

Because there is no "supposed to be". We have only what we are given. That is all we have to work with. And all our "supposed to be's" no longer matter. It is not what was supposed to be, it is simply what is. And when tough times come bringing pain and sorrow with them, and we want to shudder and shrink from the weight of it all, we would do well to remember that we will not be left to flounder. Even when we are a fish out of water and breathing burns like fire, their is hope of rescue.

The fisher of men does not use lures. He will not bind, but sets us free. Back to sea we swim to carry on in our mission and purpose. We are lifted out of sin, out of temptations snare, even out of heartache that threatens destruction of all hope. And we fall into grace. One more soul is saved.

fair weather friend

It has been months. But tonight I actually got out for a run, and I was reminded that I LOVE to run - especially when the sun is shining . . .

. . . And, I get to run in an incredibly beautiful part of the world.

I should have known not to run right after eating a big dinner, but the sun was out and Darren encouraged me to go, so I went. I couldn't run as fast or as far as I could a few months ago. In fact I was as slow as molasses and my knees gave out way before I did. Instead of the dull ache that I could push through last year, this time it was a definite pain that forced me to stop running on the way home and walk. Nevertheless, I will persist (carefully and with much strength training) for the love of the thing. I need to remember that as hard as it is to get out there sometimes, I ALWAYS feel better once I do. I love what running teaches me about myself. I may never run marathons, my knees may never allow it. I am a fair weather runner, the sunshine is definitely a big part of the enjoyment for me. I am not a superstar, I am doing only the best I can do . . . and I am perfectly okay with it all! I compare myself, not to other runners, but to where I was before I started and what I thought I was capable of.

"That's the thing about running: your greatest runs are rarely measured by racing success.

They are moments in time when running allows you to see how wonderful your life is." 

- Kara Goucher

orchid appreciation

Lately my days have been filled with endless opportunities for me to increase in patience and long-suffering. Children have had their share of quarrels - and then some. And instead of expanding in virtue I feel as though I have been letting it get the better of me. The other day when Darren told me that he had yet another church meeting, I groaned. He has been working away long and hard at his many obligations, and where normally I support him, especially in regards to church responsibilities, I must confess, at that moment I thought only of myself. 

Later that night, after children were finally tucked in bed and the house was in some sort of order, I fell into bed. 

That is when he walked in with orchids. 

I do not need to be noticed. I do not need to be praised. I will carry on because that is what has to be done. And I remember: It was I who chose this life with 5 kids and all kinds of crazy. And when I step back and priorities are put back in proper place, burdens are made light, not because they have been taken from my shoulders, but because I see, once again, the value of my mission. Days that feel empty of any sort of production, yet filled with guilt and exhaustion, are not so at all. My efforts, whether great or meager, are vital to this small world of which children think they are the center - and they are! These are the things of eternity. 

Even though efforts seem to go unnoticed, all these unseen tasks that fill my days, they are not. He is grateful. 

Now, everyday, when I catch a glimpse of my orchid, I remember his appreciation and I feel buoyed up. So although I do not need these simple, lovely gestures, they make a world of difference.

Thank you Darren. Love, your adoring wife.

blog shmog

Five years ago I began a blog.

I have loved this journey. And I have learned some things along the way.

I have learned that I don't need to blog everyday, but I can if I want to.

I have learned that blogs are like the frosting on a cupcake. There is much unseen and a whole lot of unwanted left over after the toddler licks the icing off the top.

I have learned to be true to myself and to never blog to impress.

I have learned that I am stronger than I thought I was.

I have learned that life is oh so beautiful.

I have learned to write, truly write, on matters of the heart. I have learned what those things are, those things that matter most.

I have learned that each blog is as unique as the people who write them, and that one should not try to duplicate another's style.

I have learned that my life is very ordinary, but worth documenting.

I have learned that I blog best late at night or early in the morning, when children are sleeping!

I have learned that comparison is poison to the soul.

I have learned to use a camera. And my children have learned to ignore it when needs be and to smile when I ask.

I have learned that I cannot force a post. Sometimes I sit and type and words spill over like a waterfall. Other times I go for days with thoughts floating through my mind, all kinds of random flying in and out and all around, knowing what I want to say but not how to put it all together - I put my bucket into the well and it comes up dry. Eventually I get there though, I always do - but I cannot force it.

I have learned that no matter what I put out there, once I push publish I no longer have control. It is for any and all, and how they interpret it is something only they can tell.

I have been giddy with excitement, I have been overcome with gratitude, I have sat here with tears streaming down my face.

This blog is my journal. It is my scrapbook of the ordinary events that make up my life.

It is like an open window I get to look through with different eyes. And God's grace is blinding, the abundance over-whelming.

With every picture I take and every post I write, I am writing my autobiography. I hope I can blog forever and ever.

~ Beacon Hill Park April 13, 2013 ~