be still

Political opinions? Yep, I have them. They might even surprise some people (but probably not, if you know me even a little). I enjoy the political process. I've had three different news channels streaming most of the day. I am thankful for this country, and I do care who our leaders are. But that is not where my hope lies. I am grateful to live in this country but my first allegiance isn't to a flag or a president. Many people have spoken of being afraid for their children and the future. When I think of my children and the thing I most want to instill in them it is to live boldly in love and not out of fear. I wrote this post back in 2006, when Jack Franklin was not yet 2 years old. It continues to be the cry of my heart for my boys...and I strive to live it out for them, though I often fail. You can read it at this link:

My Son, Do Not Walk in Fear

Those words that I scrawled down, as a young mother, late one night in 2006 are on my heart tonight...along with these words from scripture...

"For God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind...

...if our hope in Christ is only for this life here on earth, then people should feel more sorry for us than for anyone else...

...look, all the nations in the world are like one small drop in the bucket. If the Lord took all the faraway nations and put them on his scales, they would be like small pieces of dust. All the trees in Lebanon are not enough to burn on the altar for the Lord. And all the animals in Lebanon are not enough to kill for a sacrifice. Compared to God, all the nations of the world are nothing. Compared to him, they are worth nothing at all...

...we who have turned to Him can have great comfort knowing that He will do what He has promised. This hope is a safe anchor for our souls. It will never move. This hope goes into the Holiest Place of All behind the curtain of heaven...

...and hope doesn't disappoint us, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us...

...there is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear"
~2 Timothy 1:7, 1 Corinthians 15:19, Isaiah 40:15-17, Hebrews 6:18-19, Romans 5:5, 1 John 4:18

I wrote a new song in the midst of all of the craziness I was seeing all over the internet and allowing to seep into my spirit. I meditated on Psalm 46 and the promise of a God who is our refuge and our strength...our God who calls us to be still. How often are we still in this world of 24 hours-a-day communication, where nearly every thought is spewed out and can't be taken back? How often do we rest in the presence of God? Is it even close to the amount of time we spend checking our facebook and twitter feeds? And believe me when I say this, I am indicting myself here. Yes, the future of our country is important. Yes, we should seek to honor God in all that we do, and allow our faith to guide our decisions. Yes, we should be concerned with issues facing our nation. But when we allow the issues to win out over people perhaps we should take a moment...breathe...be still...and begin again.

May we remember that what unites us is so much bigger than what divides us...May we be known more for what we are for than what we are against...May we be as passionate about loving people as we are about political parties...May we remember that those we disagree with are made in the image of our Heavenly Father who loves them as much as He loves us...May we place our allegiance and our hope in a kingdom that cannot be shaken...May we remember that we are but dust and that nothing on this earth that we could ever desire will compare to Him...May the perfect love of Christ drive out all our fear.

I love this from the book Common Prayer:Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals:

"Lord, if we are to be afraid of anything, let it be the fear of not committing ourselves fully to you. Let us fear the day will pass without our having lightened the load of another. Let us fear that someone will come looking for you and find only us. Amen."

 

On this night I am thinking about my boys...and how I can be better so they can be better. Red or blue, the world is still broken. Our hope will surely disappoint us when it is put in men. But we have been given a hope that does not disappoint, though the earth give way and the mountains crumble into the sea. God is on His throne. Love will win. Be STILL.

and i know he watches me

October...a time of change...new seasons...falling leaves and changing colors...a time to reflect...and give thanks...countdowns to christmas...to a new year...so much counting. I haven't done very much counting in the last two years. And, honestly, it has been nice. Because for so many years there we were...counting hours, days, long nights, weeks, months, even years...how much time could I spend at home before inevitably landing back in the hospital....and how long would they keep me there? It was a never ending cycle and we were always counting...counting...counting. So, in the last two years, where I haven't had need to even think about heading to an ER...I have relished the gift of NOT counting...not being so bound by time...not holding my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. All those days of counting have slowly faded into endless days and nights with my family...moving forward...reclaiming moments...reclaiming relationships. And we have been able to just be...no counting...just BE.

Except for one place...one day...in October. One gaping hole so wide that it sometimes takes my breath away.

THREE YEARS...ONE THOUSAND and NINETY FIVE DAYS...TWENTY SIX THOUSAND TWO HUNDRED and NINETY SEVEN HOURS...ONE point FIVE MILLION MINUTES.

without...my...daddy.

October 29, 2009. The last day I saw my sweet father's face on this side of Heaven. There are days when that feels like yesterday and there are days when it feels like it has been so long that, if I take one more breath, I will forget everything. I try to meditate on moments...memorize every last bit...and hold them close. There are days when I can breathe easier...and there are days when I suddenly feel a lightness and then a heaviness all at once...because for a moment I forgot...and then remembered. Grief is strange that way.

I have been thinking so much lately about how much my Dad would have loved watching my boys in the stage they are in right now. He adored all 6 of his grandsons...and I have no doubt that he is still watching them. I am more sad for my nephews...for future cousins to come...and for my sweet babies...who were only 5 and 2 when they lost their Pappy...some days it breaks me apart to think that they may not remember him. By God's grace my boys were so very deeply imprinted upon by the short time they have with their Pappy. And we talk about him all the time. But still...oh how I would love to hear Jack telling him his jokes and reading him the books he writes...to hear them laughing together over the silly movies he makes...Jack Franklin has big dreams...and no one would have been a bigger champion of those dreams than his Pappy, Roy Franklin. And no one would have laughed harder or beamed brighter watching Samuel as he lives in his 24 hour a day never ending fantasy world of sports.

I think about my mom and what it must be like to live this new normal...the day to day...without her partner. I can only imagine what I would feel like losing Matt and just imagining it feels like not breathing. My mom does not grieve as one without hope...but still...there is still grief. I think about my sister, who was always our father's princess, and who longed to have her father there to walk her down the aisle and watch as she started her own family. I think about my brothers and what it must be like to become a man when the most important man in your life isn't there. But oh, how intensely proud I know my Dad is of all of them.

God has been so faithful...He never leaves us fatherless...and I know that...but I miss my Daddy...a girl is just never too old to miss her Daddy. One of my favorite quotes from St. Francis de Sales says, “Nothing is so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength”. That was my Dad. We were alike in many ways and I miss hearing his voice speaking into my life. Sometimes I call his cell phone just to hear that voice. I have pictures that I study intensely, soaking up every last shred of connection. There is one in particular, from when I was little, that is a favorite  of mine...I love it for so many reasons...but especially because I love to study his hands holding me in it...because we have the exact same hands. Strange the things that can bring comfort so simply. Even in the midst of this election season I have thought often how I would love to sit and talk to my Dad. I am my father's daughter when it comes to that arena and I miss our talks...and his wisdom...not just for politics or social issues...but for life. He was a man of few words...but the words he spoke he chose so carefully. And he spoke with unwavering passion. Oh to have one more moment to attune my ear to those words. And yet...he is all around me.

There was a night when I was in a hospital bed in 2010 when I woke to see him standing at my door. And you can call it medication...or dehydration...or hallucination...I call it GRACE...the gift of a loving Heavenly Father who gave me the tangible presence of my earthly father for one more moment in the quiet of night.

I sang in church yesterday morning..."His Eye is on the Sparrow"...a song that was dear to my father's heart. He had first come to really love it when a friend of mine in high school sang it especially for him shortly after his first heart surgery. So when our worship minister called last week and said, "Hey, I have something a little special I'd like you to sing this weekend" my heart jumped into my throat as I thought about singing a song...this song...on October 28th.

But I sang it. I sang it for my Heavenly Father. I sang it for my sweet Daddy. And it was flawed. It was an emotional song to sing and there were notes that were not at all executed as well as a trained singer like myself would usually seek to sing them. My voice was a bit shaky...it broke in a few places...the pitch suffered in a few places. But I sang. Because I know that my Daddy loves it when I sing...I know that both of my fathers do.

You see, the very last thing that my Dad asked of me before he went into surgery...the very last thing he said before he went to meet his King was...will you sing for me? He had always been my biggest fan and greatest encourager...and he LOVED to sing...though he could not match one note if he tried...but he had spoken before of looking forward to being in Heaven one day and being able to sing perfectly. And so I sang for him. I sang a song that he requested...a song that means a great deal to our family...one that has become an anthem of sorts for us in times of great joy and in times of great sorrow. I sang the song "My Jesus I Love Thee"...the song that I sang a cappella from the back of a church right before my Daddy walked me down the aisle to marry the man I love...the song that I have sung at weddings and funerals of many we love since. Something about the words of that song just echo my heart so well...in the highs and in the lows.

As I married Matt...
"if ever I loved thee...my Jesus 'tis now"

As I said goodbye to my father for what I did not know would be the very last time...
"if ever I loved thee...my Jesus 'tis now"

And as we laid him to rest and memorialized his quiet, gentle, rich in all the ways that mattered life...
"if ever I loved thee...my Jesus 'tis now"

Those words don't always come easy on my lips...but they are always true. So that brings me back to church yesterday. I have been struggling lately with my voice...with my tendency to be extremely self-critical and with my lack of confidence as far as singing...and Satan has been having a field day with this...using it to put me in my own way in an effort to distract me and silence my pure worship. This may seem a strange struggle from someone who has sung all of their life...as someone who earned a degree that required hours and hours of intensive vocal training...from someone who does feel called by God to be a vessel of worship but sometimes lets Satan creep in through that vulnerable place and tell the lies that have me focusing on the technical...the execution...forgetting sometimes what I'm doing. As someone who is musically trained, yes, it is frustrating when things don't go as smoothly as hoped...it is frustrating when you have spent four consecutive years hospitalized with illnesses that include tubes down your throat and not much time for vocal warm-ups. So I am in a season of retraining my voice...of rebuilding that muscle memory...but I am also so very grateful for the in-between place I am in right now. Because there is a freedom in being real...in being broken...and He can bring beauty out of our broken offerings. And He does not look at the things that man does...He does not dwell on a note that went astray like I might have a tendency to do...He looks at my heart. I will not bring before my King that which costs me nothing...especially if what it costs me is my pride. And I know without a doubt that I would much rather sing a song that is flawed...but genuine before my Savior...than to sing something perfectly and it all have been for naught...only for selfish gain. I sing for Him and Him alone.

I thought about my dad so much in church yesterday...as we sang the song of course...and even throughout Jonathan's sermon. He spoke about the rich young ruler and about what it means to be rich toward God...and that was my Dad. He didn't have much in the way of material possessions...he didn't desire them...most all that he had and was...he gave away...but he was SO.VERY.RICH.

I thought of him as we sang these words of another hymn..."life shall not end the song". And I pictured my Daddy...my sweet, tone-deaf Daddy...healed and whole...in a place where there is no death, no separation, no counting, no night, no end...singing perfectly before our Heavenly Father right alongside me.

I sing because I'm happy

I sing because I'm free

His eye is on the sparrow

And I know He watches me

i will be your someone

This video has not left my mind since I first saw it and read all of the news articles about this young woman who tragically took her life last week at the age of 15, about a month after uploading this video. I have been trying to process my emotions and collect my thoughts enough to adequately express what this story, and the many others like it, has stirred within me.

It is incredible to me what people will say...carefully shrouded in anonymity; their cowardice protected behind a computer screen. And, believe me...I have plenty to say to those people. But my first instinct is to want to reach through that computer screen and talk to Amanda. Especially when she holds up that second to the last card that reads...

"I have nobody...I need someone."

Here is what I would like to say to Amanda...Oh, how I wish I could have said it earlier...that anyone could have said it. Because I truly believe that, in the midst of a chorus of cowardly hate, one heart being brave with love can move mountains. Here is what I wish I would have seen as a response to that video instead of the "she deserved it" and "she was weak"...words that continued to be posted even after her death. Here are the words I wish she could have heard:

YOU HAVE SOMEONE. I will be your someone. You are not alone.

This is just one story and there are countless others like it. Our words are powerful...they can be a wellspring of life or they can literally take life away. I'm not really concerned with people's arguments that she was somehow responsible for the kind of harassment that she received. This was a 15 year old girl. She was a dearly loved daughter of our Heavenly Father and no one deserves this kind of treatment. These are our children...both the bullied and the bullies. They have weapons at their fingertips and can chip away at someone's spirit with the click of a mouse. And what is incredible in these situations is that, even when it seems there are masses of people against you, sometimes all it takes is for one person to be FOR you to make all the difference.

There are so many things I want to say...so much more I wish that I could do. But one thing that I know I can do is instill in my children the immense power and weight that their words can carry...power to build up and to tear down. God help me to model this for them. Because I know all too often I let the ugliness in myself be reflected in my own words. And I can see it in my own children's eyes when I let frustrations get the best of me and when I know I've chipped away a little piece of them. How thankful I am that I know the grace of a loving Heavenly Father who, amidst all my brokenness, pursues me and will not ever let me go. I long to live a life that sees the broken, hurting and lonely and tells them YOU HAVE SOMEONE. I WILL BE YOUR SOMEONE.

In the words of one of my favorite prayers, from Saint Francis of Assisi...

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.

harvest

I can remember back when Matt and I were dating...those days of butterflies in the stomach, not being able to keep our hands off of each other and many, many late nights of talking. We talked about our hopes and our dreams...we imagined what it would look like for those hopes and dreams to converge. We talked about jobs and cities and baby names. We kissed...alot. We talked about fears and insecurities and doubts. And we kissed some more. There are so many things that made me fall in love with Matt. And in the 10 years we've been together I have fallen in love with him for many more reasons. He's hilarious...no one makes me laugh like he does. He's creative. He has such a passion for things that really matter. He protects me and honors me and values me. And he has the most tender heart of anyone I've ever known. Long before there was a ring on my finger I knew that Matt Pinson was going to make a wonderful father. And I was right. There is no one that I would rather have walking this journey of parenthood alongside of me. There are still so many days that we look at each other and wonder how it is that we have been entrusted with these two little lives. We don't know what we're doing...at all. There are nights that we fall asleep wondering if we've handled things the right way...hoping that we aren't screwing these two little boys up beyond what they will be able to forgive one day. But there is never a moment that I feel alone in it all. I always know that I have a partner and a confidant and an ally in him.

Back in those early days when we would sit up and talk for hours on end we spent alot of time on one subject...orphans. Yep, you heard me right. Two 20 year old kids...with the world at their feet...with a deep burden for orphans. I had gone on several trips throughout high school and college and had been so moved and changed and convicted by what I had seen. We dreamed of what it would look like to one day start a non-profit that would build orphanages and advocate on behalf of orphans around the world so that, one day, maybe there wouldn't be a need to build more orphanages. A seed planted...rooted deep in our hearts...lying there for years...being turned over in the soil of love and loss and sickness and health and richer and poorer and better and worse. I never imagined what God might be doing all those years ago when I was just sitting up talking to the boy I loved...to the boy I knew would make a wonderful father someday. To the man that is now the father of the two sweet boys sleeping down the hall. To the man who is still just as burdened as I am for the heart of the orphan. To the man who feels the urging, just as I do, to embark on a new dream...adoption.

There is still much to talk about...much to pray about...much to listen to God's voice about. But there is not a doubt in our minds that this is right. That those seeds planted long ago are now coming to bear fruit. That there is a harvest happening in our hearts and in our family...drawing us closer to the very heart of our Heavenly Father. So I lay my head down tonight thankful for a Father in Heaven who has adopted me and called me His own; who is father to the fatherless, who places the lonely in families...and with a heart that is open to His leading for our family. I lie down as a daughter of the King who longs to reflect His heart...and as a mother who knows in the deepest part of me that we have a child we have not yet met. I lie down tonight so grateful for the man that is lying beside me. He still gives me butterflies.

turn, turn, turn

Autumn...my absolute favorite time of year. Living in Texas you really have to enjoy the moments of true autumn that you get in between summer and winter. And I do. I love the cool, crisp refreshing air...the radiant colors of the changing leaves falling gently to earth and crunching beneath my feet...the comfort of a hot cup of tea and a warm blanket...the chance to reflect on the blessings of the past year and to look forward to a new one. I love these words from John Keats' poem "To Autumn":

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
   Think not of them, thou hast thy music too

Most people look to spring as the time for renewal, but I have always favored autumn. Perhaps because I tend to lean towards cooler weather and darker skies (What can I say? I'm an introvert). And who says there can only be one season a year for renewal? I am so thankful that God created not only the patterns of our weather, but our lives, to ebb and flow and change seasons. My little family has certainly seen many seasons change. We have been through long winters and harsh summers...we have felt the autumn winds of change and we have seen the promise of spring.

I've been spending alot of time writing lately. Trying to get back into the groove of blogging regularly, and blogging in general. But mostly I have been working on my songs. It is hard for me to even type out the words "my songs". It feels so vain and pompous. I don't know why that is. I have been writing songs for as long as I have been singing them...for as long as I can remember. I can remember, even as a young girl, bounding out of bed in the middle of the night because I had a melody or a lyric in my mind that I just had to write down for fear of not remembering it if I let myself fall asleep. I can remember filling up books with poems and stories and songs. Writing has always been cathartic for me and music has always been part of my soul. I love this quote from the book When God is Silent by Barbara Brown Taylor:

"Jesus came among us as word. I believe God remains among us as music (and the Holy Spirit as the breath that brings both word and music to life)."

I love that. Because I rarely feel closer to my Heavenly Father than when I am writing, singing or listening to music. I have encountered the very spirit of God through music. I know I'm not alone in this. And you don't have to be a trained musician to understand and be moved by its power. I have been so fortunate to have many outlets to express myself through and cultivate my love of music. I have sung on stage in front of hundreds of people without really even giving it a second thought. Because I feel safe there, wrapped in the warm embrace of lyric and melody.

Within our church community we are in the midst of a season of prayer as we seek to partner with God in the restoration of all things. I love our church. At its heart is a group of people who truly want to see things on Earth as it is in Heaven. The leadership is bold and firmly committed to truly living out the gospel. I love that. Because I truly believe that what we do in this life matters in the next one. And I believe that if we look closely enough, we can get glimpses of that new life breaking through in this one. Our minister just began a series that is called...well, "CALLED"...and I have been thinking alot about that word lately. Probably partly because my husband is the director of communications/graphic designer at the church and he has been preparing lots of materials with that word on it. What does it mean to be called? And what does it look like to answer the call that God has placed on your life? Yeah...for right now, those questions are going to be left open-ended, because I am still working through the answers. I read this blog post by Rachel Held Evans the other day and found it fascinating. I related to it in many ways. Let me qualify that by saying that I am quite fortunate to have grown up in a family that never did anything but encourage and support my dreams and ambitions. And I am fortunate to be a part of a church body that values women and what we have to contribute to ministry. But I did relate to this post because I have certainly wrestled with my own ambitions and, at times, felt that to pursue them would be selfish and vain. Mix that with my deep sense of self-consciousness, some good old-fashioned guilt and a tendency towards being overly critical of myself and you have some very stifled potential.

I changed my major upwards of 4 times in college. Nope, not 4 different majors...I just kept ping-ponging back and forth between a few. I went on a music scholarship and quickly changed to theatre when I found that I could have a more well-rounded education in music there...then, it went something like this: 

theatre...nursing...theatre...nursing...theatre...bible...theatre...nursing...theatre (and a minor in bible). 

Throughout all of that time, I knew that I could probably be happy going forward in any of those fields of study. But nothing pulled me back like theatre. Like studying music and writing and performance and art. And when I say "pulled" I mean like a gravitational pull. A power over me that was consuming and had to be obeyed...or, to put it differently...a strong inner impulse toward a particular course of action especially when accompanied by conviction of divine influence...a CALLING. 

And when I laid in a hospital bed, for months at a time, aching for my family and my home...the only other thing that I truly longed for was to lead worship again. I spent much time in solitude over those months and years. I spent much time letting music wash over me, melt me into a puddle of brokenness and then fill me back up. I spent much time writing out the cries of my heart and soul. And I shared it with no one. Partly because it was all so fresh and consuming...and partly because I felt fear and I felt selfish and self-conscious. To this day, I have only shared snippets of my songs with Matt...and he has to pry them out of me. Like I said before...singing on a stage in front of hundreds...not really a big deal. Singing in a room with one person...TERRIFYING. It is much easier when you can play a character on a stage, or camouflage yourself within a group of other singers. But to be stripped down...and vulnerable...to be yourself...now that's scary. 

Matt has been begging me for years to record a cd. I have always balked at the idea because honestly I just have never really believed that anyone would want to listen to an entire cd of just me singing. And to share alot of what I've written is to let someone in to some of the deepest parts of me...to be laid bare...and I'm afraid it won't all be so pretty. And, at the same time, I have general anxiety over my writing being judged by others, and it not measuring up. But, then again, my writing has been more prolific than ever in the last several years and months and I find myself with the urge to write more and the urge to share it. Could that be...a calling?

Oh, I don't think I'm an expert on...well, anything. And I don't think that I have anything necessarily profound to say. But I do have a voice...and I have words...and I have music...and, I believe...I have a calling. A calling to share...nothing more...to simply put it out there...expecting nothing but some relief when I realize it wasn't that scary after all to just be me...and let others see me. And maybe, just maybe, something I say will resonate with someone else. Maybe the music that God has placed in my soul will envelop someone else at just the time they need it to. Or maybe it will simply remain a love letter between me and my Savior with gratitude for all He has done for me. And that...that will be plenty good enough.

So...I'm stepping WAY out of my comfort zone here. I'm going to attempt to get these, the songs of my heart, recorded...and share them with you. I'll be blogging through the process, so feel free to remind me that it will all be okay and it won't be like that horrible recurring dream of going to school with no pants where everyone points and laughs as you try to run and hide. I figure if I set the bar just slightly above the "going to school with no pants dream" then, surely, I can't be disappointed...right?

I've had these two quotes that I love echoing in my mind as I've been writing this week:

"Art is never about applause...it's about an altar" ~ Ann Voskamp

"I will not bring before my King that which costs me nothing." ~2 Samuel 24:24

Jonathan (our minister) is actually preaching this week, in his CALLED series, on altars.  So it seems fitting that these words have been on my heart as I seek to obey a calling that I feel the Lord has placed on my life. One of my favorite bands, All Sons & Daughters, just came out with a new ep called The Longing. One of my favorite songs is "Called me Higher". These words have convicted me deeply in the last week:

I could be safe

I could be safe here in your arms and never leave home

Never let these walls down

But you have called me higher

You have called me deeper

And I will go where you will lead me Lord

I have felt this stirring in me from the time I was young. And I am just now finding the courage to be obedient and to step out in hopes that I can bring some glory and honor to the name of the God I love.

So...if you feel like tagging along on the journey of a 32 year old stay-at-home-mom recording an album while attempting to not lose all self-confidence and also not become a self-absorbed jerk...come on then. Time to shake things up a bit. It's a new season.

the three R's

So...here we are again. It's been awhile. I've written a few things here and there, but I am determined to do it more regularly. A lot has happened in the past couple of years...a lot lies ahead. It's a bit overwhelming to know where to start in catching up with this blog. (Because I know you are all just dying to hear every single little detail!) But I've come up with my main three motivations for returning to my original internet home(here). And, because I'm a nerd...they all start with the same letter. It's the three R's...and no I'm not talking about "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle", though I am most definitely a fan of those three "R" words (and the Jack Johnson song they inspired...we listen to that song a lot...mostly because the album it is on has been stuck in the cd player of my car for probably 3 years now). But I digress. The three R's I'm speaking of are : Record, Reflect, Reveal.

So...the first one...Record:
It's simple really...I want to get back to making a record of our lives. Living farther away from most of our family was definitely one of the reasons I wanted to start blogging again. Facebook is great for little updates and pictures and one-liners (and, believe me, there are LOTS of those in this house). Twitter is fun, but I am fairly certain that a good majority of our family is not all that familiar with how "tweeting" works. So, in many ways, this is for them. It's also just such a great way to keep a journal of our lives. I love going back and reading old blog posts...written by a young mom sitting up at 3 am with an infant...those memories come back so fresh and I know that we will be so thankful to have all of those stories written down someday. And I'm ready to get back to recording the story of our crazy and blessed life. Here are just a few things I need to catch up on recording...the evolution of my boys' amazingly awesome personalities, birthdays, vacation, moving, health, holidays, and just the daily shuffle of being a mom.

And...number two...Reflect:
So many things have happened in our lives in the past few years. Some I have written about publicly...some privately...some of them, none at all. It can be quite overwhelming to think about it all at once, but the things we have experienced have been too important to ignore. So many things that I want to reflect on, now that I have some time and distance between then and now. Writing itself is such a cathartic process for me...I am looking forward to looking back. I'm definitely not any kind of expert on...well...anything. And, to be honest, I'm not writing with some notion that there are very many people reading or that I am going to say something life-changing. I'm just looking forward to reflecting and processing the things that have been brought to the forefront of my mind in the last few years. Just a few things that I have had on my mind...grief, illness, the importance of community, brokenness, what it really means to love, motherhood, allegiances, and restoration.

And...finally...Reveal:
This one might be the most challenging. Those who know me well wouldn't call me shy. I'm a talker...but I am an introvert by nature and it takes me quite some time to warm up to people and feel comfortable sharing who I am. More than anything, this blog is for my children. There are so many things I want to share with them. But it is not necessarily an ideal time to have all of those conversations yet. I am thankful for a place to put down on (virtual) paper the longings of my heart for them...the things I want them to know are the most important...the way they humble me and remind me everyday that the sacred privilege of being their mommy is one the greatest blessings of my life. I am grateful to have this place to reveal pieces of me I might not be able to otherwise. Just a few words you might be hearing in the future...album, adoption, and...wait, this is the 3 R's not the 3 A's...maybe another day.

So, there you have it...the three R's...i doubt this song would have made it on to the Curious George soundtrack. This post is starting to look like an english paper or a sermon or something...I've got three bullet points...now I just need a quote or a poem...or song lyrics...wait...

Three it's a magic number
Yes it is, it's a magic number
Because two times three is six
And three times six is eighteen
And the eighteenth letter in the alphabet is...

R

Perfect.

mommy mumblings 2.0

Well...it's been quite a long time since I've done this. I've spent the last few days getting reacquainted with my blog and giving it a much needed facelift. And I think I'm ready to start writing again. I say "writing again", though I've never stopped writing...just blogging. Facebook is a great place to keep up with the day to day...or the quote of the day...it's a great place to keep pictures and reconnect with people. And my songwriting journals have been filled one after another in the last few years. But there is something about having this blog, and a sort of record of our lives, that I have truly missed. And, though I don't expect to have all that many readers, there is something about making your voice heard that I have also missed. I have alot of things swirling around in my head...and I think that this might be the place to give voice to those thoughts, those fears, those disappointments and hopes. It's vulnerable and empowering all at the same time.

I have alot of catching up to do with what's been going on in our lives...I am so thankful to say that none of it has anything to do with me being in a hospital. It's been almost two years since that has been the case and, though we still struggle, we are moving forward...moving on...we've literally moved to a new city and started fresh. We are reclaiming our life, bit by bit, moment by moment. I am reclaiming my role as a wife and a mother and a woman trying to live beyond myself...and now...I'm going to try and reclaim my voice.

#eternalthreads

This is a short video that Matt made after the trip he took with a few others to Nepal. He took hours and hours and footage and the stories he has shared have been incredible. I am thankful he was able to take this trip and witness firsthand the incredible kingdom work that Eternal Threads is doing there, among other countries. And I am thankful he was able to use his gifts to document the trip, in the hopes that eyes can be opened and we can better partner with them in the restoration of all things. You can go to the Eternal Threads website for more information and to see ways you can get involved.

our Savior who weeps with us

celebrating with a dear friend who welcomed a baby boy this morning and grieving with JB and Ashley Hewatt who are burying their 2 month-old baby boy today...just attended the funeral and am headed to the hospital to see the new baby...the words of Randy Harris from this Sunday are echoing in my mind..."that all that Israel had hoped for in the messiah was actually going to be fulfilled in the suffering servant of Isaiah"...our Savior who weeps with us.
the thunder and rain that echoed throughout the skies during the service was a perfect pairing to the air in the room...our God proclaiming that this is not how it is supposed to be; that parents should not bury their babies...Mike so eloquently spoke into a grief he understands all too well, reminding us that a life of 68 days is infinitely and eternally significant...and encouraging us to let "the parched places in our spirits be refreshed with the rain and thunder of God"...and in the midst of the texas summer, as the rain fell, i was reminded of a verse that i love...that affirms the winter of suffering and promises the hope of spring... 

“Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces but he will heal us; he has injured us but he will bind up our wounds. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will restore us, that we may live in his presence. Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth. ” ~ Hosea 6:1-3 

Hewatt family...we see you...and we mourn with you in this cold winter...and we will continue to stand by you...waiting, with great anticipation, for the promise of Spring
 
So today we celebrate new life...and life anew...all while we stand in the gap between the brokenness of this world and the hope of the next...Lord come quickly

coming back

hmm...so maybe i should get back to blogging...i've kind of neglected it for the last couple of years, but we did have many good years before that...i don't know...does anyone do this anymore??? anyone out there still reading?

words for sweet Michael

one year since my sweet cousin Michael left...one year closer to seeing him again
these are words that have kept coming back to mind, as I thought of my sweet cousin over this last year, and the unimaginable loss that my aunt, uncle and cousins have faced...they are still just words...words, words, words...and no words, no matter how carefully crafted, can change the fact that they are in this valley...time does not heal all wounds and there are no "right" words...but i share them, because they make me think of them...and of that beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy...Michael

Sonnet 43 When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, For all the day they view things unrespected; But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, And, darkly bright, are bright in dark directed. Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright— How would thy shadow’s form form happy show To the clear day with thy much clearer light, When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so? How would, I say, mine eyes be blessèd made By looking on thee in the living day, When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay? All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me. ~William Shakespeare

and, from The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupery:
“What moves me so deeply about this sleeping little prince is his loyalty to a flower–the image of a rose shining within him like a flame within a lamp, even when he’s asleep… And I realized he was even more fragile than I thought. Lamps must be protected. A gust of wind can blow them out.”
“You - you alone will have the stars as no one else has them...In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night...You - only you - will have stars that can laugh.”
“I did not know how to reach him, how to catch up with him... The land of tears is so mysterious.” “Here is my secret. It's quite simple: One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes...The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.”
“Where are the people?” resumed the little prince at last. “It’s a little lonely in the desert…" "It is lonely when you’re among people, too,” said the snake.” “I have always loved the desert. One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence something throbs, and gleams...'What makes the desert beautiful,' said the little prince, 'is that somewhere it hides a well.'”

"Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces but he will heal us; he has injured us but he will bind up our wounds. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will restore us, that we may live in his presence. Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth. " ~Hosea 6:1-3

i know that sleep is hard to come by these days but i pray that the love of friends and family and the memories will sing you into restful sleep...and dreams of your little prince...forever young...that amidst the parched desert you will feel the comfort of the promised gentle rains of spring...and, when most your eyes do wink, i pray that those dreams are filled with the sweet light of Michael's presence, healed and whole, and lighting up all the darkness