Reflections | 2013

I have been meaning to reflect on 2013 for the past 29 days.  It seems the thing to do in the world of blogs. 2013 was quite a strange year -- I should have also reflected on 2012 last year but was in such shock in the last month of 2012 and the first few months of 2013 that it wasn't going to happen.  But I can look back on things now with different eyes.

2013...

...was the year I had to learn to walk through life without my dad.  For 34 years he was my greatest fan.  For many of those years he was my sole companion and best friend.  2013 rang in just as I came home from his hospice center where the funeral home had just picked up his body.  Fireworks were going off all around me.  It was a brutal reminder that life was moving on without him.  Time did not stop.  The world was not in shock or weeping with me.  I didn't expect of all that to happen.  Oh, but I really wanted that to happen.

...was the year that I learned to plan a funeral.  And that you can fire the people you are working with.

...was the year that I saw my husband live out an aspect of our vows (for better or for worse) in a very tangible way.  I never doubted that he would but this is where I saw love pour forth from a man who already shows me an abundance of love that I do not deserve.  I had no idea what I was doing nor did I really want to do anything.  He waded through bureaucratic red tape and whatnot.  You know, all the stuff that comes from a parent who had three government pensions and an outdated will.  Sigh.  He is my knight in shining armor.  He tackled it all without flinching or even being asked.  He just did it knowing I was struggling to even get up and feed our family.

...was the year that we sold not one but two houses.  My dad's house which took five days to sell and our rental house which took...much, much longer.

...was the year that we started our homeschooling journey.  Miss L started kindergarten.  It has been an amazing journey and just like I loved being there for her baby milestones I love that I get to be a part of these milestones as well.  Sure there are days that I want to pull my hair out.  But more often than not we have a good time.

...was the year that I started running.  I wanted to lose the baby weight that has accumulated.  Instead I broke my leg and was diagnosed with osteopenia.

...was the year that we lived in a hotel in San Diego from mid-September until the end of January 2014.  It has been an adventure for sure.

...was the year that we took our girls to Disneyland for the first time.  It was amazing!  One of my favorite memories for sure.  It was in part thanks to bad weather and our cousins Lindsay and Emily, too.

...was the year that I had actual physical health issues once we entered the one year time period since my dad got sick.  Breathing issues that warranted a trip to the ER among other things.  They started just after Thanksgiving which was when my dad was first admitted into the hospital  Oddly enough, all subsided after the new year passed.

...was the year that I learned that I still love to read.  It's a beautiful thing and I am sad that I lost so much time with so many good books.  I am also thankful that I am surrounded by such well read people.  From the end of August until the end of the year I read 23 books of varying genres, topics, and of course length.

The year had highs and lows... as do all years.  Some things this past year were more significant than others. We had our normal vacations and fun.  My family always makes me laugh and we love being together.  At the end of the year, whether it was particularly hard or we seem to breeze through in our ordinary lives, I know that I am extraordinarily blessed.

Small Things | His Watch

It's Christmas eve.

We returned home from a family service with Husband's parents, dinner, and looking at lights.  Our hearts are light...but we are tired.  We are thankful all is ready for the morning.

Except the stockings.

I quickly located them in a bag.  I counted out seven big boot sacks.  I mention quickly that I am glad I didn't find my dad's thinking it was in a bag in another room.

Then his fell out onto the chair.  I notice it has some heft to it.  I reach in my arm recognizes the small flags that veteran organizations brought to him in hospice.  My hand seizes something metal and a wave of emotion and shock pulsate through my body.  I look at Husband and exclaim, "His watch!" and the fount of tears comes forth.  I cannot control it.  My girls watch in wonder as I hold the watch tight and Husband holds me tighter.  My oldest begins to cry, too.  Later my middle one says, "I'm gunna give you some love, okay?"  Sweet girls.

My dad was kind of obsessed with his watch.  He pretty much went batty when he didn't have it.  It was one of the first things he requested to have when he left the hospital.  However, he only wore it for a time while in hospice because it became too big for him.  However, it was always on his bedside or he would have it in his lap.

Oddly, the watch is still keeping time and the day is still correct.  The date is off but I think that came from the months with only 30 days and my dad would have to change it to the first when it read 31.

While the discovery was quite emotional...it was quite providential. Healing.  Welcome.

These Days are Marked

These days are marked for me.

They are marked with sweet joy of celebrating advent that leads to Christmas celebrations. Birthdays for two of my girls.  Decorations I love. Family Traditions. Family...

This year they are also marked with incredible Heartache. Loss. Memories.

Around this time last year we were celebrating my youngest's first year of life while facing the fact that my dad was finishing his last.

It all takes my breath away like it just happened.  The days... good and bad... play in my mind.  The pictures are blurred by tears that I cannot stop.

I miss my papa.  Every. Day.  Some days are extremely difficult.  Others are not so bad.  Most probably think that I am doing okay.  For the most part I am don't get me wrong.  On a lot of days I just want to sit and cry.  I have three little ones that distract me and need me to keep going.  My two older ones will randomly talk about him when I least expect it.  On some occasions it makes me laugh or smile and on others I fight back tears or they spill out.

Some people ask about him or how I am doing. Most do not. It's awkward for some. It's okay.  It's true...life is but a vapor and the grass remembers us no more.

It has been strange to not ponder over what gift to buy him this year as he seemed to have all that he wanted. Or he would tell me that what was on his list was far too expensive which generally meant that it was some firearm he wanted. HA!

My gift to him last year was a CD of hymns (he was listening to it when he passed.) In all the years I had with him I don't remember him being quite as grateful as he was for this one.  I can still see him mouthing the words "thank you." to me.  Maybe I'll pull it out sometime... maybe

Indeed, these days are marked.  Marked by hope that came as a little baby under the cover of night.  Hope that grew to be a man of stature and character that would pay the ultimate sacrifice of dying on a cross for my sins.  Hope that rose from the dead.  Hope that promises the resurrection of the body and life everlasting. That Hope is Jesus.  A Hope that Papa has...a Hope that I have.  In this I find great comfort...yes... and joy. Even in my tears.

Nature Walks

Miss A's Collection

 So, it's hot in Phoenix during the summer.  Right.  Everyone knows that.  You would know then that getting the motivation to go for a fun little walk to explore is utterly...impossible.

However, the last two months or so here in San Diego has afforded us the opportunity to still go on walks around our hotel and other places in the city.  I never realized until this time how much Miss A loves to be outside exploring and looking at every little thing.  She has sharp eyes and finds the oddest things.  Sticks, pine cones, snail shells, acorns, berries, etc.  She loves it.  I also noticed if she is having a hard day if you give her about fifteen minutes to walk around outside, run, and explore she is a much happier person.  Miss L could go either way and she is too finicky to start picking everything up.  It's funny to see their personality differences coming out more.

I recently posted this on Facebook:

"Abby is my outdoor explorer. Today's short expedition yielded acorns to add to her collection of pine cones, snail shells, and leaves."

A friend (Mr. Y) then posted later, "I knew a guy like that..."  Here he was referring to my dad, Miss A's Grandpa T.  I replied, "...maybe that would explain their special bond..."  To which he said, "Amen."

The next morning Miss A was playing with some linking cubes that we use for math.  She put them together and told her daddy, "I'm going out to shoot some birds!"  Yes, a deep bond indeed.  My husband and I just looked at each other in light of previous conversations about Miss A and my dad and busted up laughing. (For those that don't know my dad he was an AVID hunter all of his days.  Even if he didn't get anything he would just say, "Well, I just took my rifle out for a walk.")

Needless to say, I need to work on getting us all out of the house more to places where we can all explore and pick up rocks.  Thankfully, the winter in Phoenix is a perfect time to be doing this.

Cherished Conversation | Women & Work

During our stay in California we have had the opportunity to interact with a large variety of people.  My girls make different observations which are never prompted by us.  Although, most observations require some explaining and redirection.  Here is one of those social observations:

The honest truth is if you look at the people that are staying here the majority are men.  There have been a few females, fewer couples are here during the week.  And if there are more we don't see them in the public areas much for the meals that are provided by our hotel.  Granted, this changes on the weekend when we see more families.  But for extended stay there a couple of families, a few couples, a few (travelling single) women, and a bunch of (travelling single) men... of all different nationalities.

One morning Miss L asks, "Why do some women go to work?"

"Because some women need to do that to help their families, or they don't have children to stay home with.  That's the decision some women want or need to make," I replied.

"So, what happens to their children when they go to work?"

I do my best to explain a day care center and the option of a babysitter (which she understands a bit more fully) and that some children are old enough to go to a public school.

Her eyes teared up.  She told me that she was sad that some children didn't get to spend the whole day with their mom or dad.

"I always want you to be my teacher, Mama."

My eyes fought back tears and I was overwhelmed by her love.

I grew up in a single parent home.  My dad did the best he could but that had to include a mix of private day care, "regular" day care, and baby sitters.  I didn't know anything different.  I thought it was a natural part of everyone's childhood.  It wasn't until we moved from Albuquerque to Los Lunas that I met other kids who had a mom that stayed home.  It was AWESOME.  I was jealous for a time but understood that was not at all how it could work in our house.  I understand that for some it just isn't an option.  However, now that my husband has blessed me and our children with the opportunity for me to stay home I do thin kit is the best option.  Many people have made great sacrifices to be at home with their children... while it may indeed be a great sacrifice in some areas it has the best return on the investment by far.   

Unbroken | A Book

**Disclaimer: Spoiler of sorts below**



I recently read the book Unbroken under the recommendation from my dear friend, Mrs. H.  I found it from our digital library and dove in.  It was a page turner for sure.  I was drawn in by the story.  My mind finding it hard to grasp all that the main character, Louis Zamperini, endured during WWII.  However, I was all to familiar with other stories of such atrocities that I knew such things were not from an overactive or over traumatized imagination. What drew me in even more was the fact that Mr. Zamperini was an Olympic athlete.  I love that connection -- when I was younger (i.e. before children could find me in any hiding spot) I would disappear (or so it seemed) for the two weeks that the Olympic games were on.  Winter or summer I loved them all...

I don't do book reviews.  I am not so eloquent as to sum up a book in such a way as to compel people to read it.  However, I like to write when a deeper connection to the story is made.  This book has stuck with me that I have found it hard to really engage in my next book.  I just keep thinking about it.  So, now that I have some answers and I can write it down maybe I can move on with my next book.  HA!

Toward the end of the book Mr. Zamperini is haunted by a particular experience from his time at war.  He had prayed that if God would save him then he would serve God forever.  He was faced with this flashback while attending a Billy Graham revival in California.  He would eventually receive Christ and his life would see dramatic change.  His story is really quite intense in the testimony of God's faithfulness, love, and redemption.  There is a mention of Hollywood Presbyterian church.  My mind flashed and ran the dates in my head... Dr. & Mrs. Bill Bright (the founders of my former employment, Campus Crusade for Christ, now Cru) attended Hollywood Presbyterian.  I wondered if the paths of Mr & Mrs Bright had crossed that of the Zamperini's?

So, I emailed Mrs. Bright on Monday morning.  I received a reply from Mrs. Bright this morning, here is part of her response,

"Bill and I first met Louis Zamperini at a Billy Graham meeting when he went forward to accept Christ.  We knew them and considered them friends when we attended Hollywood Presbyterian Church in California.  It has been years since we have had any contact with him.  I, too, read his book, Unbroken and found it to be a very powerful story."

AH!!  I love it!  I love an even more personal connection to this story.  Love it.  It has endeared itself to me even more.

While there is a movie slated to come out of this story Christmas 2014 I am not sure that I will be able to stomach going to see.  However, I may just need to see it anyway.

I would HIGHLY recommend this book.

Honeysuckle, Creosote, and Trainsmoke | A Book

So, I finished my first book since my last post.  Actually, I finished it a few days ago and have started something else.  I find my desire to be on social media, playing games, etc dwindling a bit.  Mostly in the game department... I do like Facebook but I am not there nearly as much.  Good things.

I digress...

I read this book in memory of my dad.  The author was a classmate of his and I have met Mr. Cook on several occasions.  I still remember that Mr. Cook had a book signing in Albuquerque while my dad was out hunting.  My Aunt Dee took me to the store to have a book signed for my dad as a birthday present.  That was in 1990 and I am now the owner of that book.  Just opening the book to that inscription brought back sweet memories.  While there were parts that I didn't laugh at I remembered my dad laughing with tears running down his face, especially in the telling of the funeral story (it is pretty humorous).  However, there were other stories I was totally laughing and rereading to my husband.

The best way to describe this book would be as the roughed up, sometimes crass, but has a soft side uncle of "The Help."  This was a more vivid look into life in a north Louisiana town in the 1940's.  While some things were tragic and heart breaking, I know from stories of my dad's youth they are not far from the truth.

I have heard that Mr. Cook has a second book out and possibly a third in the works.  I will have to work my north Louisiana connections to find out as I cannot seem to find a second one listed online.

Reading this book made me think of stories of my dad's family and how I want to make sure that they are passed down to my girls.  I'll share them here when I have more time.  For now, I'll put a reminder to write about them soon.

On to more books...

Things You Don't Say In the NICU

This is not a "in general" kind of post.  Well.  Maybe it sort of is for some in  general purposes.

Let me preface.

The NICU that we were in was fabulous.  This NICU is unlike some others in that each baby has their own room (I could have slept there had I wanted) so I only interacted with the nurses and the doctors that stopped by to care for Miss S.  Loved the doctors and most of the nurses.  I really don't like that I didn't love all the nurses -- I think it has something to do with the fact that many of my friends are nurses in all sorts of healthcare capacities.  Some just rubbed me the wrong way and I was generally pretty happy when their time with us was over.  I didn't like having that feeling but that is raw and honest.

So, here are two things you don't say in the NICU...to a new mama.  Just don't do it.

Many that have walked the road of motherhood with me know that I have had a difficult time nursing.  I am committed to breastfeeding my babies as long as I can without losing my sanity.  It's a hard road to hoe for me but I made it to six months with Miss L and Miss A.  I had already been pumping in the hospital and trekking down to the NICU with my, literally, drop or two of nourishment.  I was discouraged.  If I produced next to nothing I didn't bring it down (another nurse would be encouraging and say bring even the drops!) and felt like this was useless and I was facing another major obstacle.

Not knowing the battle I was fighting, or that I had fought this battle twice before, curtly informed me that consistency was the key to making milk.  For most, it's no big deal.  I think she made it because of the lack of breast milk that I was bringing down.  However, she didn't know that I was in my room every couple of hours doing exactly what the lactation consultants told me to be doing.  Only going a little longer between times at night so I could get some sleep.  Husband knew this struck a very hurtful cord with me and he tried to help me keep it under control.  My postpartum hormones got the best of me.

I cried.

Hard.

If this had been my first baby and knew nothing of breastfeeding that would have been one thing.  However, this was number three... I get it.

On the upside, she apologized and was a little more sensitive to my emotional state.  She was our day nurse again the second day.  I was not thrilled.  However, day two was MUCH better than day one.

End Scene One.


Begin Scene Two.


A conversation with a night nurse started out well enough.  She started asking questions and the question that I got often, "Do you have other children?"

"Yes, two girls"

"Really?  What are their ages?"

I smile because I know what the reaction will probably be, "My oldest turns three this weekend and my second is almost 16 months."

"Really?  Wow, that's really close.  You must be busy!"

I tired to be on top of it enough that I see it as my cup runneth over!  Hands full of blessings!  However, this nurse said, "I have a 5 year-old and a 10-month-old at home.  I still think it's hard with the spread but I am glad that I can give each one the attention they deserve."

Awesome.  Thanks.

Basically, you just told me that I am not giving each child the attention she deserves.  Not exactly what I need to hear as I am thinking through how to balance time at home once I am discharged and time here with Miss S.

I responded in kindness with the positive sides of them being so close.  It was probably lost on her but that's okay.  I love how the Lord ordained each little life for us.  Busy?  Yes.  Trade it? No.

This Is The Day

When you saw the title did the song go running through your head?

Several months ago when this song would be stuck in my head because we generally sing it at the preschool co-op that we attend it would drive me utterly bananas. BA.NA.NAS.  Miss L generally wants to sing it and Miss A grasps that when we sing this song we clap along.  To say the least, it is sung often around here.  I know that it is Scriptural and all...  but the repetition was wearing on me.  I think the Lord knew that I would need the repetition...

...to learn something.

The song now has a deep and sentimental meaning to me.  The Lord used the preschool song to minister to my heart during a time when I needed to be reminded that He was really in control.

When I was finally able to hold Miss S for the first time in the NICU the nurse said to make sure to talk to her about whatever or to sing to her.  We like to sing around here.  My husband is a wonderful singer... I, on the other hand, have a hard time carrying a tune on a silver plate.  But that doesn't generally stop me and I do have my moments of actually singing well.  Anyway.  Sing?  The first thing that came to mind was, This is the Day.  So, I started singing it to her and realized the deep theology (and extravagant LOVE) that was being imparted to me at that moment.  I choked through the rest of the words as I realized my own personal struggles with the current situation this was indeed the day that the Lord had made, had given to me, and I would rejoice in Him, that my baby was alive... I would choose to be glad.

That became our mantra of sorts.  I sang that song each morning that I came in to see Miss S and it really helped me to gain perspective on the day.  Our pastor came to visit one afternoon and I shared with him how the Lord had used this simple song to show Himself to me.  It felt childish in some way but so very significant in another.  You know... I was okay with that.

I realized the other day that I had stopped singing this song to Miss S when we got home.  I shall have to remedy that.

Miss A's 1st Birthday!

ARGH!

I realized last night as I was posting what seemed like a gazillion photos to Flickr (with still many more to go from two other cameras!) I realized that I never posted about Miss A's birthday cake.  What?!?!?  Seriously, we are about a month and a half out from her birthday.  Where does the time go?

I found this owl cake on Pinterest and immediately fell in love with it.  I realized later I liked how "clean" it was which was created with fondant.  However, I have never really worked with fondant nor did I think that it would be ideal for a cake that a freshly minted one-year-old would tear into.  So, I opted to just adapt from there.

To be honest I almost scraped the whole idea and just go for decorating the cake like a cupcake.  Sigh.  I finally just sucked it up and went for it.  I like using butter cream frosting but it is not so stable when it warms up.  So, I went in stages with this cake and stuck it in the freezer for about 20 minutes between each step so the frosting would firm up.  I worked fast between steps so it wouldn't "melt."  It was a winner of a plan although it took some time.  However, I was pretty tired on this particular day so lots of little breaks were a welcome addition to the day.  Well, here's my final product.  I realized I should have crossed his eyes to maybe make him look a little less Angry Birds looking.  It was hit either way, even with my oldest, Miss L.  I have to also mention that I bought a special small cake pan for this project as I didn't think Miss A needed a regular sized cake all to herself.  Baking the cake took some extra care because there aren't standard guidelines for this sized cake.  I also did up cupcakes for the rest of the family.

I still would like to work on my cake decorating skills.  Maybe when the girls are older I can take a class.  Until then it will be my random dinking around with what I remember from almost 15 years ago when I had someone teaching me.  I used to be able to make lovely drop flowers and roses.  I am not sure I would know where to start anymore.  I think I will also try working with cream cheese frosting the next time around.  Delish and maybe a bit more sturdy (as in not so "melty") for sure.

Is it worth spending so much time on my cakes just so the girls can destroy them?  Totally.  The videos of my girls tearing into their first cakes are so worth every minute.  Plus, it's a fun little challenge.  However, I think for Miss L's third birthday coming up we may be ordering a cake from the bakery as I will be not too long from my due date and wow... that sounds like a lot of work.  We will see.  Oh yes... one more picture... the cake after Miss A was done with it...

A Legacy of Love

Several posts ago I mentioned that we had traveled to Colorado for a very special family milestone.

Husband's grandparents were celebrating their 70th wedding anniversary.  I have to admit that I get a little choked up just thinking about it.  They are an amazing couple and I look forward to telling my children about how their great-grandparents loved so well.

Not long ago we celebrated Grandma Great's (that's how we refer to them to our children) birthday.  Their children had arranged for an a capella group to sing.  They picked one particular song, Let Me Call You Sweetheart, and it took the grandparents back to the days of their courtship.  Grandpa Great had his arm around his bride and tears came to his eyes as he thought on the days gone by and where life had taken them. It was a moment that not many would forget.

So, we fast forward to the celebration of their anniversary and the above moment is etched forever in my memory.  I dwell on it often.  My own grandparents didn't show love like this.  However, my own grandparents didn't love Jesus like this.  I shared with Husband's grandparents what it meant to watch them love Jesus well and in turn to love each other and their family well.  They, indeed, were leaving a Legacy of Love for generations to come.  Their daughters all married and have had long and prosperous marriages.  Their daughters love Jesus.  In turn, many of their grandchildren have married and are showing hearts that are turned to Christ.  While none of the great-grandchildren are quite old enough to be married hearts are tuned to Jesus has done in the life of their family.  It's an amazing thing to see and to be a small part of such a larger family.

When I see Grandma and Grandpa they are not holed up 90-somethings that are bitter at life and only deal with their spouse because they have too.  No, they still attend church, the play cards, and like to be social.  I am pretty sure they have a bigger social circle than I do at the moment.  HA HA!!  I also see a man who still very much loves and cares for his wife and a woman who respects her husband.

This is the kind of legacy that I want to leave my children, grandchildren, and great-grand children.

Cereal Memories

Don't be a hater.

Hear me out.

When I saw that this particular sugar cereal was on sale -- and of course I had a corresponding coupon -- I tossed this box in my grocery cart.

I remember when I was maybe 10 or 12 on my grandparents farm this box being in my grandmother's pantry.  The pantry was set up in such a way that you could actually sit in there and have a bowl of cereal which I vaguely remembering my grandmother doing.  She was wearing an apron similar to the one mentioned in this post eating the pictured cereal.  I always thought it odd that my grandmother would eat this cereal from time to time considering she rarely ate anything that she didn't make herself.  Something about it must have piqued her interest to try it (as I would learn with a different food in college... )  Or maybe it was some guilty pleasure that I didn't know about.  One day, Grandma told me I could have whatever I wanted for some particular meal.  So, I sat in that same place and had a bowl of this cereal.  It was heaven.  I think because generally I didn't have sugar cereal at home.  My grandmother had the peanut butter version of this stuff and I recalled it was TOO sweet. (It's possible, believe me!)

When I sat down to have a bowl of cereal the other night (because cereal tastes better at night -- it's a proven fact) my husband kind of laughed at me and shook his head.  I took my first bite (I'm pretty sure I haven't had this cereal since that day on the farm) and smiled.  I looked at my husband and said, "It's the farm.  I can see it.  I can smell it.  I can taste it."  While completely not a good food option -- it was worth every penny of $1.50 I spent on it for the blissful enveloping of a warm spring day on the farm, and vibrant memories of a woman I loved.

On the flip side... they also make good bribe treats for Miss L to behave a little better in church.  ha ha!!

New memories.