Insomnia struck Colin and I at the same time in the wee hours this morning.  It landed us in a chat over a new OK law that would protect life but also disallow suing a doctor for not sharing suspicions of birth defects.  In this litigious age it will likely not stand.  I am not sure if it even should.  There are so many issues involved, all centering around Colin's questions last night.  Did we know? (about his health) Would it be better to know?  What can we really know?  What should we know? 

I don't have those answers. We did not have those decisions in 1985.  Newly married and newly in a foreign country and newly pregnant we knew only that we were having a baby.  That was enough for us.  The ultrasound was crude and the resulting image looked like stormy weather patterns.  No matter, that was our baby. 

After months of bed-rest and medication to stop the contractions that landed me in the hospital on my 19th birthday we met the most beautiful baby in the world.  He happened to arrive with a litany of medical complications.  No matter, he was our baby.  We would deal with all that later, after examining that perfect swirl of dark hair and kissing those hands stretched in newborn surprise. There were songs to sing and rocking to do.  

 Priorities, you know. ; ) 

Would I have wanted to know?  Not really.  Despite months of pre-term labor, I was full of joyful anticipation which I would not have traded for a prognosis which could never define nor determine the person Colin would become. He is so much more than a label.  Would we have been able to know that before we looked into his eyes?  

We think we know so much these days. We test.  We make predictions.  We think our knowledge will save us. In fact some of that knowledge did save my baby.  I will be forever grateful for that. But, I don't pretend to think that a lab sheet is ever going to give a complete picture of the mystery that is us.  It reduces us to our data. We are so much more than that. We cannot know love on a piece of paper. 

If you are given  prognosis before you are given a baby, let me tell you this secret.  Your world is about to rock. Your heart is about to break.  And it's ok.  It will mend and stretch and grow in ways you can't even begin to imagine right now. You come out in a better place.  And you won't want to go back.  I promise.  Don't miss it. 

 more on this:

Another mom who has learned this same secret. 

Just So It's Healthy

Happy birthday Colin

There Goes My Heart

Does this happen at your house?  I have been stumbling over these large pairs of socks lately. The most recent find felt exceptionally dense.  Upon examination it turned out to be several pairs of socks wadding together. Some clean and some, um, less so.  

me:  So what's with the wadded up socks?

them:  It's a sock football.

me:  Why?

them:  To play football with (falls under 'ask a stupid question…') 

me:  But you have a football.

them:  Yeah but we can't throw it in the house.

Ah.   That explains it.   Resourceful – if barefoot.  : ) 

I signed in to a new social network online yesterday which had been highly recommended by women I know. It was indeed every bit as lovely as promised.  I was tired, through and through, and could not bring myself to dig into the number of things in need of my attention. So with a few clicks I found myself there.  I filled out my profile, visited  a few delightful pages, and slowly sank deeper into the lethargy and exhaustion that was overtaking me.  

As I waited for a new page to load I turned and looked out the window.  I saw little faces between me and the door, some looking as cranky as my own.  Silently I reached for shoes and camera, put the tv remote out of reach and the computer on sleep.  The children and I made our way outside, football in tow and I forced myself to wake up.  To notice. 

The sky was a startling blue, punctuated with white clouds which brought us rain earlier and would bring more as the day wore on. Right then, we were in a pocket of sunshine.  

So I alternately threw the football to the boys and a plush babysized ball to Abbie.  Between passes a boy etched this into the wet ground:

Little boy found a ladybug and coaxed it onto his finger.  As it took flight I snapped a couple more pictures.

   I asked him to say something, since that usually prevents that frozen posed smile. He began to recite a prayer from his bedtime books, "Dear God, I love you," he said sweetly in a tiny voice.  I stood rooted to the ground, stunned by his spontaneous prayer.  

Dear God, I love you too.  And I almost missed this. 

Daughter was behind us.  She had picked up a stick and slowly drew it through the puddles. Tess found her own stick and joined her, which naturally caught the attention of mud hungry little boys.  

There were more sticks and more puddles and eventually someone 'accidentally' stepped into the water.  I thought about the cleaning. I thought about the laundry.  There would be more of both. But there would not be many more  puddles, in this place, with these children.  

So we stayed.  I smiled.  They splashed.  They chased each other around the barn with war-painted faces, hurling handfuls mud and whooping with glee. 

Dear God, I love you, and I love this beautiful mess I'm in.

Laughter rang out through chattering teeth as the sun was swallowed up by the clouds moving in. Eventually there were showers and piles of towels and wilting dandelions to pull from wayward ponytails. 

So, that is how I missed my networking.  Or maybe I didn't.  Instead I wallowed in muddy splendor and a little boy uttered quiet praise and woke me up.  

Dear God, I love you. 

Outside my window… watched the sun rise on dewy pasture. Mama cat saw me at the window and called up. 

I am hearing… we went to see The Jake Loggins Band live Saturday night with friends.  Jake himself reminds me so much of our Asher.   

 I am thinking… you can get run over on the high road too. : / 

I am thankful for… A wonderful weekend of fellowship. Started Friday when a Lady of Virtue graced us with a lunch visit. She truly was all that and I am blessed to know her. Then dinner and music Saturday and a picnic at the park with church friends yesterday. 

I am wearing…  Black yoga pants and a red v neck tee with a tan sweater over.  

I am reading… scripture and Imitation of Christ.  Just a few moments in the chair with Jesus is about what it has been recently.  Otherwise, see below.

From the learning rooms… The bishop of Bingen.  Aidan was reading The Children's Hour in his English book and there was a footnote about the Bishop of Bingen line.  He looked it up here and spent an hour rather slack jaw-ed over the whole thing. We picked up an unabridged copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales a few days ago. It has been requested repeatedly since and Aidan is reading ahead and telling us a new gruesome tale daily. 

I am creating…. plans for a new home. Can't decide which of our 'looks' will get center stage from here.  I know it can't all go but am still debating. 

Pondering these words… "Blind guides, who strain at a gnat and swallow a camel." - Matthew 23:24 

Not even going to comment further….

From the kitchen…  a roasted turkey all made for dinner already. Running dinner over to a friend who was blessed with twins.  Twins!  So very cool. 

Around the house… Getting back on the "all clean, all the time" bandwagon.  Tricky business, that, especially when we  are in and out like we were this weekend. 

Looking ahead this week:  A haircut, eye appt, more paperwork, more sorting. 

One of my favorite things… Baby learning to talk. Realizing she is actually saying words intentionally now. Guess it's time. Not sure I am ready! Overheard lately, "Shoes, Tess, Aidan, More (this complete with hand signals) Daisy, and Go!!!" 

From my picture journal…

1. Are you a woman of childbearing age taking extra folic acid?  I have been for a number of years.  So let me tell you it caught my attention when I started seeing the reports linking folic acid supplementation to several different types of cancer.  One South American study showed a 50% increase which was not explained by other factors.  Great.  It is suggested that the general public may want to avoid fortified flour products by making their own cereal and bread using whole grains.  Course that isn't bad advice anyway.  

2. Another son has a tattoo.  There does seem to be merit to the desensitization theory.  Or maybe its just a really good tattoo <g>  At any rate I didn't hyperventilate this time and only once did I mention that I MADE that skin and therefore maybe should get a vote.  Still, it is a gorgeous, highly detailed Asian Madonna he has been creating for some years and I am glad its not Betty Boop or something.  

3. Should you hear that it is not necessary to worry over high school transcripts and all that students really need is some algebra and a lot of time to explore their world, just know that your local US Armed Forces recruiter will disagree and want to see paperwork.  Lots of paperwork.  For that matter, the state university system does as well.  We were covered on both counts, but I am throwing that out there for new homeschoolers.  They aren't playin' fwiw.  Absolutely do read widely, see the world, and get your hands dirty.  Then do your geometry and foreign language.  It's gonna matter. 

4. Time it takes for dust to accumulate on a glossy finish piano which sits 30 miles from the nearest pavement?

Geesh. And hey kids, I don't care if its getting warm.  Shut the windows!  ; D  Trying to reach me?  I am probably dusting. 

5. I feel good.  Really good.  Better than ever in my adult life.  That is saying a lot after ten kids and an autoimmune disease.  My Dr. and I attribute this in large part to the oddball no-starch diet (NSD).  I didn't figure it had much relevance to the general public until I ran across a book at Barnes and Noble outlining this very thing for diabetics.  (This book is where I got the pumpkin seed flour idea fwiw)  Then while looking at its reviews on Amazon I linked to this site which says pretty much the same things.  I guess others are seeing improvement with stubborn health challenges by going low starch as well.  

6. Saw a report on the local news about the great success being seen using EMDR with returning soldiers.  Again, I have to say there is something to this drug free, non-invasive approach to healing from trauma.  It first came to our attention in regards to stress from repeated pediatric medical procedures.  It can be truly miraculous for a lot of issues.      

7. Lucky me! After several years of trying to get together I am having lunch today with Sherry of Large Family Mothering as she travels through our neck of the woods.  Don't worry.  I will dust the piano first. : ) 

An aside – if you want one of the best bits of advice for wives she sums up here. 

There is a reason all the organization guru's give you all those sorting pointers.  You are at high risk for getting sidelined which happens to me on a pretty regular basis these days.  But then I am easily sidetracked on a good day.  I jumped into yesterday's sorting area intending to be diligent but it didn't take long before I was swimming in reminiscences, some good and some less so.  Came to a complete standstill when I came across this:

..which is funny because I still love anything in this color.  ANYthing.  This jewelry box is as nearly as old as I am and held my grade school goodies for a lot of years.  Apparently when it was replaced some yrs later I didn't transfer much but rather stored the whole thing away intact, leaving a virtual 70's time capsule.  So what is inside….

Necklaces for starters. Some I can't remember owning.  I do still love the yellow happy face. : )  And I am a Taurus as you can see.  Sun and moon in Taurus it says in a junior high scrapbook also unearthed yesterday.  Can't tell you what vitally important information that was to me in my new age days.  Though long discarded now, I still have to laugh at this bit of zodiac 'profile' – "Taureans are often quite disturbed by sudden changes–they
prefer their lives stable and secure. You'd be hard-pressed to get them to move."  Yeah well, the joke's on someone here lol as we prep for move #14.  

Look.  Is it me or do we have a travel theme goin' here?

What else?  The little beadwork guy is no doubt from Wisconsin Dells.  We lived nearby that landmark long before it became a commercial monstrosity better known for its theme parks than its natural attractions.  All the years I lived there it was all about Native American dancing and boat rides through the rock formations along the river and I was fascinated by both.  Rebecca you know I thought of you when I found the owls. : ) 

Pins. There was a pin for all occasions I am pretty sure since this is just a sample. The Christmas season for sure was thoroughly provided for.  I had pins on my coat lapels and sweaters through the 70s.  A cowl neck really begged for a bejeweled pin to fix the folds just so.  The one on the right is a vintage 50s circle pin that was my mother's. Gotta admit that while I don't wear gold anymore I do still love vintage pins and earrings – though more vintage than most of these, save the circle pin.  I have a large aqua blue rhinestone pin on the front of my white baseball cap. : )

And then there were the bracelets.  More polished rock jewelry.  I was quite a junior geologist, driving my mother to distraction adding to my collection. I spent much of my childhood alone outdoors watching water bugs float downstream in the creek on the farm, dissecting tall strands of grasses,  and never came home from a walk without a rock.  Because, you know, there was always something different about it – layers of color, a glint of quartz, SOMEthing I couldn't leave behind.  And if it was polished and sitting on a souvenir store shelf forget it. It was comin' home, no question.

Then there were a number of coin purses, all of which managed to fit in the box except the teepee. (see above)  We must have had a lot of change because I find a lot of these. How many change purses do you carry?  Because I have none on me at the moment, though besides these shown I have come across a number of the plastic egg variety which opened like a mouth when you squeezed the ends. 

Maybe life has just sped up so much that there is no time at the checkout to sort your change into bills and coins?  We just cram it in a pocket and deal with it later, that is if we even paid cash to begin with.  Remember that credit card commercial where the world is humming along in perfect harmony with the citizens of Oblivious Town happily charging their lives away til the cash customer comes along and the world practically stops spinning on its axis while the checker has to, gasp, make change as the rest of the people gaze on in disgust.  Well y'all, I am here as a living testament to change making – figuratively and literally lol!

I am pretty sure the red plaid one came from my Gram when she went to Ireland (and Scotland I think) She brought me a matching pleated kilt shirt with leather buckles.  The coarse wool really takes me back. Seems to me the leather one had something to do with my Girl Scout uniform.

The little oriental one I can't place other than that Gram had a set of Golden Book encyclopedias and atlases which fascinated me.  I read a biography of Margaret Mead I found on her shelf and wanted to BE her.  I dreamed of meeting indigenous people in faraway places til I realized you had to fly to them. I still sorta mourn the westernization (homogenization?)  of the planet where Tommy Hilfiger came be found on every continent.  We have a fatal case of same as. Amazing to think that largely happened in my lifetime. But I digress.

We went to the State Fair every summer and I spent all my time at the international market watching the shows and winding through racks of Indian cotton skirts hanging in booths heavy with incense.  I bought Asian fans which I hung in my room. Tried on wooden shoes.  Was glued to the traditional costume section of the encyclopedia.  Probably explains a whole lot… Anyway, I think that is where the little satin coin purse came from. My little bit of the world of different. 

And then, we can't forget the Shrinky Dink jewelry, which debuted in my corner of the world in 1973. (seriously – they began in WI)  Tell me someone else did this?  It was a pretty amazing process and it looks like I could not shrink enough plastic.  Need a key chain thingie?  I was your girl. Say the word and I had marker in hand. It's funny the one that remained is a sailor.  He looks a lot like the plastic refrigerator magnets we had for years.

This is why the whole sorting process takes so long. I won't even tell you how long I got set back finding an junior high era diary.  Thank God it was only partly complete or I might still be in the closet now turning pages.  I don't always know how I feel about having these tangible reminders of very intense times, though until recently I haven't been able to let many of them go – literally or figuratively. Which probably also explains a whole lot.

scenes from an extraordinarily ordinary morning…

I scramble the eggs which little boys have brought me. Wrap them into tortillas. I snatch some fresh blackberries and dark chocolate while I work because after all,  I am the mama.  <g> 

We slice the apples… "We have no oranges, Mom, only grapefruit that looks like oranges, but we have apples. Can we have apples?"  We have apples.

Little people row row row their boat.  (…cooler <g>)  "We are rafting Mom! Look at us!" 

I do just that.  I look at them deep in the adventure that called them out so early and am reluctant to hurry them back in. Rafting on the dry prairie.  I wonder what kind of dreams they are dreaming this morning? 
 

Kieran was up at dawn asking for coloring pages.  "Remember our story last night Mom?" We read about the Bayeux Tapestry in an old reader before bed. I didn't think they would remember. "Remember you said you could find some knights for me? Can we do that?"  The computer is fired up.  We find knights.  "I want the hard ones, not an easy one. I am using pencils."  Brendan gets one too, though he reminds me we have no more gray crayons and armor really should be gray.  Kieran chatters about chain mail while I cook, telling me it really didn't help that much because in Lord of the Rings they still died.  

   Aidan calls from the recliner, "Mom!  Listen to this! This is the coolest thing I ever heard!"  He is deeply impressed with Nathan Hale, whom he discovered before breakfast in his reader.  He is pretty sure his friends called him 'Nate.'  Who am I to argue?

Some are not ready for the day just yet.  Abbie dozes off, slouches onto old church pew. We save her plate.  The dog, too, is unimpressed.  Morning will happen soon enough for them. 

We settle into the little things that make up our day.  Sword fights and hero tales.  Dishes and laundry.  Sleepy babies and broken crayons.  I wish my husband was home this day taking a deep breath of the blessed ordinary with us. I am grateful to have it.  Grateful too that he rose early, like he does every morning, quietly ate the first round of breakfast, and is off working hard to make this all happen.  

Thank you God for all that is this morning, this life of ours. 
 
 

For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed. - Kahlil Gibran

per Abbie, our MVP:

First, hike up your diaper. Self explanatory.

Line up.

Hut…hut…hike!

Run down the field and ……

Catch! 

I walk through the now-emtpy barn, stepping over discarded feed buckets.  My hands run across the knots in the wood beams and my thoughts wander.  Last year this time, like many years before it, we ran through the doors chased by biting spring winds to check on goat kids.  We toted bottles of warm milk back out into the night to be strained and cooled for breakfast.  

The goats are tucked into stalls in another barn half an hour to the north tonight, another homesteading family tending them and loving their babies. It is all good.  They are well and we are nearly ready to leave here.  This is our last spring on the ranch.  

In many ways it is a relief. We worked very hard here.  We invested a great deal. We sucked every drop of joy out of this place we possibly could. Still we knew we were not prepared for this to be the last adventure we were going to have. So we are ready to go, but tonight I linger a while  in the silence and brush away a stray tear.  

I understand now that this farm was as much about my past as my present and why it was so important to me to hang on to it tightly.  All the happy and stable and good in my early life happened on a farm not so different from this one.  I spent my adult years just holding on 'til I could recreate that place which was heaven itself to me for so many years.  

As a child I would escape to the lower level of my grandparents  barn and breathe deeply of its earthy peace, anchoring myself within the whitewashed foundation.  I watched as steam wafted  up and away from the horses' nostrils on those bitter cold nights. The only sound to be heard, the gentle crunching of hay and the occasional, sleepy shift of their weight.  In time my own breathing slowed, matching theirs, and all was well again.  

The night we arrived here I walked into the old barn, which has stood on this bare prairie since the 40's, long before the house.  I inhaled the lingering scent of musty hay and the sticky sweet feed bags left behind and my whole being sang out with joy.  I was home. 

There would be many nights like this over the years, but in time I have come learn a secret.  That quiet was always there for me inside.  It could be mine in a Midwest farm, on a glitzy downtown street, or while riding in a plane across the ocean. (there's a hint ; )) While I still believe in the power of place, I have become even more convinced of the power of a God who commands us to be still, wherever we find ourselves and to experience the wonder that is our present moment.  He is teaching me to do that and it is beautiful. 

This is my Grandma's legacy.  She did not leave me dependent upon a place, holding desperately to a memory, but rather she left me with the ability to embrace the future and all its glorious uncertainty.  She left me a 'Yes I can' outlook.  Wherever we go from here I will take this slow breath with me. There are many places to love after all if we can slow down and notice.  But I suspect that on quiet nights like this my thoughts will return to potted violets on a farmhouse windowsill and a wheelbarrow rolling down the barn aisle.  I will remember a cat sunning itself where the sun falls on the dirt floor and I will smile. 

Thank you Gram.  And thank you Allen, for giving me the time I needed here to be whole again.  I am ready now.  I just had to find out why I came here to realize it was ok to go.