Milestones

Things we are working on right now!
Climbing stairs.
Standing.
Eating different textures.
Signing words.
Petting softly.
Tolerating other humans besides just Mom. 😂
Also, we have discovered the secret to overcoming the bum scoot in favor of crawling: grass!!

More than a number.

Dear Self, When you’re scrolling through your feed, what makes you stop and “like” an image? Is it because it’s “good”? Because it shows something you want? Does it reaffirm your opinion? Or is it to connect?
I think a lot of us come here to connect, but that’s not what this platform is geared towards. It’s driven by numbers and popularity and those likes we all base so much of our worth upon.
When someone puts something of themselves on the internet—a story, an image, a piece of art—many are trying to make money off it, sure, but most of us (and even the $ makers in some respects) are saying, “This is me.” And that’s a vulnerable act. So if no one responds or relates, our natural response is to feel unheard or unworthy. I believe that’s why so many of us come to hate this place. Because the silence and comparison seem to shout, “Thanks for showing up. You are not enough.”
And when people do show up with their shiny likes and affirmations we hear, “This! More of this! This is what I must produce!” But production lines aren’t always inspiring and are rarely if ever genuine or unique.
Brené Brown talks a lot about vulnerability and its importance. But I’ve also heard her talk about trying to be vulnerable while respecting yourself and not just giving your whole heart out to every unproven person to trample on.
And frankly, that’s what the internet does best—trample. Even when we don’t mean to, sometimes we scroll, scroll, scroll without so much as a, “meh.” Pass those pictures, those people by.
I’m over it.
You are not unworthy. You can like something because you like someONE no matter how the algorithms try to direct or buy your attention. And if the likes don’t show up it doesn’t mean you’re less of a person or that your story or art is not valid and important. It means that we’ve forgotten, all of us, how to connect. That we’ve been trained to evaluate and walk on, saturated by so much information that we stop seeing faces—or hearts—altogether.
You can walk away. You don’t have to bleed yourself dry for something that doesn’t give back. You can create and build and hone and save it for those people & moments that matter. That see. YOU matter. Love, your ❤️.

Kitten

Once, when we were visiting family property and I was about 10 with 4 other siblings right behind me, we found a box of kittens. NEW kittens. Of course we couldn’t leave them there to die, so we brought them home. But those sweet babies needed to be bottle fed which proved beyond us, and also five kids plus four kittens is a lot 😬 so, we took them to an animal shelter where they could get the help they needed and traded them in for two older kitties that became the family pets. My brother named one Tiger, and I, in true kid fashion, named the other one Furball. 😅 Furball (“Furbs”) wasn’t “my” cat, but she was MY cat; we just got each other, and I loved that girl for years and years. Even after I was in college and had lived away from home, she was one of the best parts of visiting. When she finally died, I sobbed. And, I don’t know, I kind of think she’s waiting for me in heaven. *** My boys haven’t had a lot of stability growing up, at least in the fact that we’ve moved so many times, many cross-country. Like every kid they wanted a pet and after a lot of family discussion about what would work for us, I promised them a cat “some day.” They have patiently waited and never forgotten. Once we bought the house we all knew it was time. I spent a year looking for the right kitty for us & never would have imagined he’d fall in our laps right during COVID when we all needed a boost; but, he did, because God is good like that. 💛 So, this is Maverick, and he is loved. Seeing my kids with him takes me back to my childhood kitties and makes my heart so happy.

Wide Open Spaces

Six feet apart. Closed. Drive-thru only. Shelter in place. Social distancing. So much focus on space and I have never felt more claustrophobic. But when I get outside I *almost* forget. And I’m happy.
“In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.”
-John Muir

Wistful

I’ve been staring at myself, looking for answers.
Maybe some retail therapy.
Maybe a favorite snack.
Maybe some exercise? A book? Something artistic? Finishing a task?
I don’t know. I’ve tried it all.
Maybe I’ll just sit in the discomfort and stare at it for awhile. Let it be. Acknowledge. Become friends.
And finally move on.

As a Rule

Pin us inside and we will go crazy.
Let us explore and our hearts run free.

The Ups and Downs

Monday, amiright?

Favorites

Dan, outrageous flare, and Lydie. Let’s just put all my favorite things in one image, shall we? 💛
Swipe for the non-hazed out version.

Frolic

Desperate soul needed this, today.
Mine. It was mine.

Teacher Parade

The teachers from our elementary school participated in a drive-thru neighborhood parade, this morning. As I watched my boys’ excitement to see them, noted their good friends carefully separated and calling to them from across the street, and heard their teachers shouting encouragement and my boys’ names as they drove by... I cried.

Improvising

It’s been a rough transition back from spring break to homeschool. We are now online for the rest of the year. Sooooooooo, Mama gonna have to work out a better routine 😬

Flashback to Pruning

I think we lost a lot of fruit on our fruit trees in the freeze last night 😩

Easter Thoughts

It’s hard to express what the significance of this day means to me. In short, everything. I have had more time to ponder, this year. I have considered the Passover and the significance of the Israelites turning to their Lord for deliverance as the destroying angel passed through Egypt. How today, in this modern day plague, I empathize with their plight and also turn to Him. I have thought of those closest to Him, His disciples: Judas who betrayed, Peter who denied, and Thomas who disbelieved, and wondered how I can soften my heart and always remember Him. I have looked at my family, those I love most, and celebrated that He truly is “the resurrection and the life,” and what that means for us, individually. I have been grateful, again, for our merciful, powerful God. I believe in His deliverance, I love Him, and I praise Him.
. . “Each of us will have our own Fridays—those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie littered about us in pieces. [...]
But I testify to you in the name of the One who conquered death—Sunday will come. In the darkness of our sorrow, Sunday will come. [...] In this life or the next, Sunday will come.” (Joseph Wirthlin)
.
Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?
Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.
For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,
Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
.
Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified.
He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. 💛

Awesome

Honestly I don’t know how they come up with this stuff, but there’s an odd sense of pride that comes from knowing your kids are relentlessly weird.
This week that included fashioning a bike/sled transportation device so they could haul straw around the neighborhood and try to build a fort with it.
I was pretty impressed 😂

Adventurous

It was actually a very tall tree. 😳

Cute Girl

Thursday’s are for Lydies.
Actually, everyday calls for Lydie. 🥰

Perspective gained

20 months. That’s the collected amount of time I’ve spent in quarantine with Lydia during her first 2 years of life. In fact, we’ve been doing that all this winter and March & April have been floating on my horizon as the dawn of freedom for months, now. A sluggish dawn that’s yet to come.
When you say you miss your family, I get it. Unable to attend weddings, reunions, parties, social gatherings. The sacrifices you make. The things that are lost. Your weary heart breaking in new ways each day. It’s a deep and lonely place, it truly is. You are brave for being here. You are brave when you don’t give up.
In all our months of previous quarantine, I had grandparents on call to help—crucial as Lydia was quarantined even from her brothers. I had neighbors who arranged play dates with my boys to give me a break. There were parks, and school, and soccer teams. I didn’t see much of those things, myself, but my kids did. And it mattered. What I didn’t have, however, were many people who could relate.
Now, there is no external help. There aren’t very many distractions. If you’re feeling like it’s hard, I’m here to reaffirm: yes, it is!!
BUT. We have each other. And I don’t know if you realize what a gift that is unless you’ve gone through this wasteland before... alone.
Before our experience with Lydia, I never fully appreciated the battles some people go through. The desperate loneliness of being home bound. The crippling fear of vulnerable health. Steep financial obligations you are desperate to pay. I knew these things existed, but from an objective, removed standpoint. I knew but I didn’t truly feel and understand. Not for days and weeks and months and years, at least. Not for real.
Things can get personal, really fast.
How strange it is to go through a crisis as a global community. It is both heart-wrenching and unifying. It leaves me broken but strengthened. And softened.
From those of us who’ve walked this path before, let us reassure you, now:
It will not last forever. It DOES end. And when you do get out after however long it will be, the sun and sky and people’s faces will have never looked so good to you. I promise. I PROMISE. And I can also promise that you will never be the same.
You will see and experience and live it all—MORE.
And hopefully... hopefully, we’ll remember. Because for some, the next hospital stay is always looming. There are some who wake up and go to bed every day, alone. Some walk broken and grasping beside us and we have never really looked or seen, before.
Here’s hoping that, when this specific experience is over, it’s not just our schedules that will change, but our hearts and eyes, as well. Forever.

What a year

If you want to know how my 365 is going amidst a global pandemic, the answer is, it’s rough 😜 Anyone else?
How come I didn’t commit to the world’s longest “days I’ve worn leggings in a row” streak, this year? 🤔