Noticing More Beauty

Part one: I spend most of my time nursing these days, and the short gaps in between are difficult for me to fill with intentionality; but today I must, I must write and record in order to remember and learn. Such things are a shame to forget. "I miss you, Heavenly Father." I said it the way I tell The Man I miss him, after days of activities, needs, and busyness make me forget the feeling of "us." In fact, I said it to him recently as well. But this time when I said it to him, instead of a mere fact, it had guilt hiding in the undertones. Guilt because my days never seem to include moments to make him feel that he is the most important person in my life. And then when he greets me with an unexpected, "I love you," instead of feeling joy, I turn to guilt and disbelief. I have trouble believing that he still loves me unless my action seem to deserve it. And I discover I am trapped in works-based righteousness again. With my husband and with my Father. Do...

I have thought to write this over the years, but I have always chickened out. Today I will say it. I read a repeat of a heartbreaking headline yesterday: "Baby Suffocates in Hot Car." I can never read the articles; they are too awful. And I always feel horribly sick to my stomach. And I can't read them because after the article usually come the comments. The comments where perfect strangers to the people involved berate them publicly for being the worst of parents, neglectful monsters, and worthy of death or worse. I assume because you are all my friends that you have never (nor would) post any such thing in such an instance, but be honest, have you ever thought those things?! I'm here to tell you (and risk losing friends in the process) that if you've ever thought (or said) those things, you need to say them to me. No, I've never lost a child to suffocation in a hot car, but... I could have.  I could be the one being called those terrible names. When ou...

...after a conversation with my mother who taught me to appreciate it: When I taught the poetry class last fall, the curriculum described poetry, in part, as "compressed thought." And so it is. Good poetry, at least, prevents you from saying "getting rid of things" to propel you to a better word such as "eradicate." And then it challenges you to use it in conjunction with other works like "enumerate" or "predicate." All the while, demanding further restraints of dactyl or pentameter. It would seem, at first glance, that the number of literary requirements upon good poetry would make it almost impossible to achieve something noteworthy, and yet there are hundreds (thousands) of poems that exquisitely capture the emotions of universal moments better than entire volumes often do. Poetry expresses only what must be said about a topic and does it more eloquently. The constraints improve the product. And such is life - or can be... ...

As I overheard him reading theology (Wayne Grudem's Systematic) to a few of the kids yesterday, I was struck with the thought that I may have truly married a "man after God's own heart." Oh, he is certainly not the picture of perfection - I have lived with him enough years to know that. And yet... at the end of the day, Joshua wants God as much as anyone else I know. I have spent years looking over his shoulder, fearful of and judgmental over the things he has allowed himself to get caught up in; and at the same time, I have worked so hard to keep my own external image squeaky clean. But... If I take a step back and look at the heart of this man, he is every bit a David! His sins may be obvious and even egregious. He may even be able to ignore his own guilt for a time. But when confronted with the truth, his heart for God wins every time. Josh knows the closer he is with God, the farther he is from sin. And so, where I dabble in a relationship with God, ...

Rejoice always,   pray continually,   give thanks in all circumstances;   for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.  1Thessalonians 5:16-18 Always.... All... Really? Surely not! I got the diagnosis of Gestational Diabetes last week. I know it isn't a life-threatening condition. I know all traces of it will most likely fade as the babies emerge. I know I can produce healthy babies even in the midst of it. But... I don't want it! I've had six full term pregnancies with no hint of GD, and I don't want to be constrained by what I can and cannot eat. I don't want complications and blood draws (needles!!). I don't want labels that make me feel unhealthy.  But... When I reached for my list of things to give thanks for, the only thing I could think to write was Gestational Diabetes. Not one other thing could I shake out of the pen. Or perhaps I couldn't because I actually refused to write GD there. I wasn't thankful for it. I resented it. But....

June 30 Day before the miracle son becomes 15 - how did it go by so quickly - why does my heart try to keep him so much younger? Reading Ann ( http://www.aholyexperience.com/one-thousand-gifts-book/ ) is good medicine. Just read the "toast" chapter and remembered our own toast moment just 48 hours ago, and I let anger win, but it never really does, because we all lose when I choose anger. It only births pain. But I don't want pain. I want joy. And so I must beg God to see His face in the moment, to help me choose the thanks to redeem the ugly, to count this hard space as a grace gift too. But of course, that means I will have to accept another opportunity to choose joy. I will have to practice, and practice is what makes perfect, but it isn't always lovely. I will have to work to get it right. And at the same time, I am wrestling to see my new image in The Man's eyes. Who am I when "lover" is no longer my main role? What wi...