Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Them Crazy Little Beans
Last week I planted a second batch of beans using some that I purchased and some that had dried on the vine. They sprouted in three or four days.
Some of the tomatoes are beginning to ripen. Last night I made a yellow tomato sauce from my golden sunbursts and Djena Lee's golden girls, a hot banana pepper, garlic, basil and oregano from my garden. I liked the flavor, but Joe prefers the fuller flavor of red tomato sauce.
The onions are small, but I went ahead and dug up those I could find and am letting dry out for a day or two on the patio.
I have several sunflowers growing. This one was planted the earliest and is close to opening.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Grief
What is healthy grieving? How can God be honored in a time of grief?
These are questions I struggle with during the loss of my second pregnancy in four months. The first, a "chemical pregnancy" was much easier than this one. This one really hurts. On a day I was supposed to be congratulated for entering into the second trimester, I was saw my child still in my womb with no heart beat.
Only two weeks ago I was reflecting on trusting God with my fertility, and now I feel my faith being tested. My initial reaction was one of humility, acceptance, sadness, but peace. Day two, going into the hospital, denial and anguish hit me in the gut. Today, I wanted to lock the doors, draw the shades and barricade my heart.
I have thought of going back on the pill, waiting a year to try again - shaking my fists at God and demanding back control. Instead of me waiting to see if You will finally give me a healthy pregnancy again, I will make it so that I CAN'T get pregnant at all. This childish defiance is only coupled with a the aching heart of a young woman who wants to crawl into Daddy's lap and to know she is still loved and this wasn't her fault.
I have a history of cutting myself off before being cut off, whether in relationships and community or in hopes and dreams, but this behavior does not lend itself to the gospel. The gospel begs that we open ourselves to be used by God in whatever way he deems best; and when we get hurt, we allow the death and resurrection of Christ to become our own. Through this, we are made more like him and drawn more deeply into community with him. When we cut off our hearts, we end up dying a slow spiritual death that leaves our souls cold and shriveled.
A friend recently wrote me an email that included the line, "the height of joy you can feel is equal to the depth of pain you have felt." God longs to lavish us with his blessings and for us to experience his joy and peace. However, a soul that has been barricaded from pain, has also barricaded itself from the potential to experience joy. Anesthetics do not just work against pain. They leave us numb to everything.
This new grief, as I allow myself to experience it, harshly, brutally sends electric currents to my soul, waking it back up from the numbness it has been under. The amazing thing about the gospel is that the moment death and grief enters into our lives, the life and joy of Christ floods in - if we allow it. I have a choice: build up my walls and live with the pain that has already managed to enter in or allow God's peace and love to come in behind and heal what's been broken. So often I have locked my heart up with it's pain, but not this time.
If you were to ask me how I feel, I'd say okay. I'll be okay. Really I feel sad, hurt, cheated, relieved, scared, angry, teased, skinny, confused, thankful, alive, hopeful, hesitant, frumpy, empty, defiant, full, domestic, childish, and honest. I'm nervous about how I will react to my friends who are due about the same time I was due. I am very excited about making some girly drinks later this week. I want to lose five pounds and rock a bikini. I am so thankful I have Joe and Daniel. I wish I knew the genders of the two children I lost.
These are questions I struggle with during the loss of my second pregnancy in four months. The first, a "chemical pregnancy" was much easier than this one. This one really hurts. On a day I was supposed to be congratulated for entering into the second trimester, I was saw my child still in my womb with no heart beat.
Only two weeks ago I was reflecting on trusting God with my fertility, and now I feel my faith being tested. My initial reaction was one of humility, acceptance, sadness, but peace. Day two, going into the hospital, denial and anguish hit me in the gut. Today, I wanted to lock the doors, draw the shades and barricade my heart.
I have thought of going back on the pill, waiting a year to try again - shaking my fists at God and demanding back control. Instead of me waiting to see if You will finally give me a healthy pregnancy again, I will make it so that I CAN'T get pregnant at all. This childish defiance is only coupled with a the aching heart of a young woman who wants to crawl into Daddy's lap and to know she is still loved and this wasn't her fault.
I have a history of cutting myself off before being cut off, whether in relationships and community or in hopes and dreams, but this behavior does not lend itself to the gospel. The gospel begs that we open ourselves to be used by God in whatever way he deems best; and when we get hurt, we allow the death and resurrection of Christ to become our own. Through this, we are made more like him and drawn more deeply into community with him. When we cut off our hearts, we end up dying a slow spiritual death that leaves our souls cold and shriveled.
A friend recently wrote me an email that included the line, "the height of joy you can feel is equal to the depth of pain you have felt." God longs to lavish us with his blessings and for us to experience his joy and peace. However, a soul that has been barricaded from pain, has also barricaded itself from the potential to experience joy. Anesthetics do not just work against pain. They leave us numb to everything.
This new grief, as I allow myself to experience it, harshly, brutally sends electric currents to my soul, waking it back up from the numbness it has been under. The amazing thing about the gospel is that the moment death and grief enters into our lives, the life and joy of Christ floods in - if we allow it. I have a choice: build up my walls and live with the pain that has already managed to enter in or allow God's peace and love to come in behind and heal what's been broken. So often I have locked my heart up with it's pain, but not this time.
If you were to ask me how I feel, I'd say okay. I'll be okay. Really I feel sad, hurt, cheated, relieved, scared, angry, teased, skinny, confused, thankful, alive, hopeful, hesitant, frumpy, empty, defiant, full, domestic, childish, and honest. I'm nervous about how I will react to my friends who are due about the same time I was due. I am very excited about making some girly drinks later this week. I want to lose five pounds and rock a bikini. I am so thankful I have Joe and Daniel. I wish I knew the genders of the two children I lost.
When Bellies Don't Grow
When bellies don't grow,hearts swell tears well
lips quiver and sigh.
Pull loved ones close
draw up the sheets
entangle souls and feet.
Sip pink lemonade,
Kiss cheeks and toes
Watch the garden grow.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Gardening Notes
I've run into several problems with this year's garden:
- About 1/4 of the tomatoes are getting BER - blossom end rot.
This should be easy to resolve with the addition of calcium and careful attention to pH and watering. I will wait until next year since I've weeded most of these bad tomatoes out already. - The pumpkins, watermelon, cantaloupe, squash and zucchini vines growing out of the boxes have not grown much at all and are not producing fruit yet.
This might have happened because the soil was not tilled and their roots are having trouble extending. It could also be a lack or excess of water as I don't know how well the soil drains or retains water. I should probably give them a little help in the nutrient area as well. - Tomato transplants out of the third box dropped all their tomatoes last night and are looking pretty bad.
I transplanted these very late to thin out the box and didn't expect them to do well. Now do I dig them up and ditch them or see what they do the rest of the summer? - The onions and garlic are piddly and didn't grow very large.
Most of these struggled from lack of sunlight because the tomatoes choked them out. Neither of these like competition, so next year I will reserve a box just for them. Also, I probably should have planted garlic around November instead of the spring. The garlic that had plenty of light still didn't grow well, which could be because they prefer the cold to warm temps. Finally, I planted both of these too deep. I read one source that said the necks should be barely exposed. I think I buried all the onions, and some of the garlic.
New Pool, Come Play!
Mom and I picked this up at Walmart this weekend. I wish we had taken a picture of it tied to the top of the jeep. It was a mess. If you want to bring your tot over to play, or if you don't have a tot and still want to come play, consider this an open invitation!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
NC Gardener Warning
This afternoon I spotted my first squash vine borer of the season. These guys will completely demolish your squash plants so keep a watchful eye for them and get rid of them when you see them. They lay eggs at the base of the plant. These eggs hatch and the larvae hollow out the vines. I also spotted a squash bug. Once they have entered the vine, leaves will start to wilt and eventually the whole plant my die. One way to salvage a plant is to bury the vine in hopes that it will re-root.Squash bugs lay reddish-brown ovular eggs on either the top or the underside of the leaf. They suck nutrients from the leaves and can kill smaller plants. Last year I cut off and threw away leaves that were covered in eggs.
Plant a second round of squash over the next couple weeks for a backup crop!
Image courtesy of University of Minnesota Extension.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Reacting to the Gospel
Pastor Tyler gave a hard and moving message this Sunday, that I in particular needed to hear. I wish I had taken notes so I could remember the words that spurred on my thoughts, but I will post my thoughts and hope they make sense to you.
I remember he classified three reactions to the gospel for followers of Christ. My interpretation of these was: numbness due to being in a desert, passion and excitement due to a heart in tune with God, and cynicism due to rebellion. Typically, I feel like the desert traveler. Here's an excerpt from Richard Foster's book, "A Celebration of Dicsipline" which defines being in a desert, it's purpose, and how to react.
I may have been in the desert a year ago, but since then, I have been sitting at the edge of a new landscape - one with lush fields, rushing rivers, abundant crops, and an enormous table covered with my favorite foods, surrounded by people I know and long to love and be loved by. At the edge of this landscape, I have set up a tv tray, on which I have arranged a small plate of the most bitter fruits and am accompanied by my two foes: envy and cynicism. I envy those at the banquet table eating and drinking deeply of God, and cynically I wish they wouldn't smack so loudly. I would be hungry, but my stomach has been turned so sour by my bitterness, the site of the banquet makes me queasy.
How did I get here and how do I escape? What are these sacks of bricks tied to my ankles that keep me from running to the table, running to community, running to God?
Shame.
I thought I was better than this. I thought I was incapable of this. My friends think I am better than this. What if the darkness of my heart is exposed?
At some point in the past year, I decided to follow the old adage "time heals all wounds" rather than the truth that Christ alone sets us free - free from sin, free from pain, free from shame. Time only embitters and callouses the heart.
The past couple days I decided to do some reading in scripture no matter how undeserving I felt, no matter how afraid I was that the words would pass through and find an dried up soul. Instead of my fears being confirmed, I found there was a longing, a small shout of joy, like a wilted, thirsty plant finally being watered and opening the remaining leaves.
What God has claimed, he will never surrender. I am his.
Repentance is not an easy thing, but it seems that is should be. I don't want to offer fabricated tears. I don't want to force my hands in the air for show. I want to genuinely respond to the gospel in joy. Repentance is complete awakening of the sovereignty of God to the complete denial of self. The sacks of bricks fall away and we run to the table, not worried about people asking where we've been and why did it take us so long to get there. We hum while we chew as my toddler does when he is extremely satisfied. We smack loudly as we want.
I remember he classified three reactions to the gospel for followers of Christ. My interpretation of these was: numbness due to being in a desert, passion and excitement due to a heart in tune with God, and cynicism due to rebellion. Typically, I feel like the desert traveler. Here's an excerpt from Richard Foster's book, "A Celebration of Dicsipline" which defines being in a desert, it's purpose, and how to react.
What does the dark night of the soul involve? We may have a sense of dryness, aloneness, even lostness. Any overdependence on the emotional life is stripped away. The notion, often heard today, that such experiences should be avoided and that we always should live in peace and comfort, joy, and celebration only betrays the fact that much contemporary experiences are slush. The dark night is one of the ways God brings us into a hush, a stillness so that He may work an inner transformation on the soul...While I tend to romance this idea of being in a desert place, a time of emotional stripping and aloneness, I knew on Sunday that this was not the case with me. Because I did not feel impassioned by the gospel, I knew by process of elimination that I was that other case, the ugly case. I was in a state of rebellion. I nearly grimaced when Tyler mentioned this group, waiting for the condemnation and warnings, but instead he spoke of God's gentle call back to himself and his persistent pursuit of his children that have pushed him away.
When God lovingly draws us into a dark night of the soul, there is often a temptation to seek release from it and to blame everyone and everything for our inner dullness... We begin to look around for another church or a new experience to give us "spiritual goosebumps." This is a mistake. Recognize the dark night for what it is. Be grateful that God is lovingly drawing you away from every distraction so that you can see him clearly. Rather than chafing and fighting, become still and wait."...
What should we do during such a time of inward darkness? First, disregard the advice of well-meaning friends to snap out of it. They do not understand what is occurring. Our age is so ignorant of such things that I recommend you do not even talk about these matters. Above all, do not try to explain or justify why you may be "out of sorts." God is your justifier; rest your case with him. If you can actually withdraw to a "desert place" for a season, do so. If not, go about your daily tasks. but whether in the "desert" or at home, hold in your heart a deep, inner listening silence and there be still until the work of solitude is done.
I may have been in the desert a year ago, but since then, I have been sitting at the edge of a new landscape - one with lush fields, rushing rivers, abundant crops, and an enormous table covered with my favorite foods, surrounded by people I know and long to love and be loved by. At the edge of this landscape, I have set up a tv tray, on which I have arranged a small plate of the most bitter fruits and am accompanied by my two foes: envy and cynicism. I envy those at the banquet table eating and drinking deeply of God, and cynically I wish they wouldn't smack so loudly. I would be hungry, but my stomach has been turned so sour by my bitterness, the site of the banquet makes me queasy.
How did I get here and how do I escape? What are these sacks of bricks tied to my ankles that keep me from running to the table, running to community, running to God?
Shame.
I thought I was better than this. I thought I was incapable of this. My friends think I am better than this. What if the darkness of my heart is exposed?
At some point in the past year, I decided to follow the old adage "time heals all wounds" rather than the truth that Christ alone sets us free - free from sin, free from pain, free from shame. Time only embitters and callouses the heart.
The past couple days I decided to do some reading in scripture no matter how undeserving I felt, no matter how afraid I was that the words would pass through and find an dried up soul. Instead of my fears being confirmed, I found there was a longing, a small shout of joy, like a wilted, thirsty plant finally being watered and opening the remaining leaves.
What God has claimed, he will never surrender. I am his.
Repentance is not an easy thing, but it seems that is should be. I don't want to offer fabricated tears. I don't want to force my hands in the air for show. I want to genuinely respond to the gospel in joy. Repentance is complete awakening of the sovereignty of God to the complete denial of self. The sacks of bricks fall away and we run to the table, not worried about people asking where we've been and why did it take us so long to get there. We hum while we chew as my toddler does when he is extremely satisfied. We smack loudly as we want.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Faith, Fertility, and Motherhood
For your reading pleasure from 1 Samuel:
1 There was a certain man from Ramathaim, a Zuphite from the hill country of Ephraim, whose name was Elkanah son of Jeroham, the son of Elihu, the son of Tohu, the son of Zuph, an Ephraimite. 2 He had two wives; one was called Hannah and the other Peninnah. Peninnah had children, but Hannah had none.
3 Year after year this man went up from his town to worship and sacrifice to the LORD Almighty at Shiloh, where Hophni and Phinehas, the two sons of Eli, were priests of the LORD. 4 Whenever the day came for Elkanah to sacrifice, he would give portions of the meat to his wife Peninnah and to all her sons and daughters. 5 But to Hannah he gave a double portion because he loved her, and the LORD had closed her womb. 6 And because the LORD had closed her womb, her rival kept provoking her in order to irritate her. 7 This went on year after year. Whenever Hannah went up to the house of the LORD, her rival provoked her till she wept and would not eat. 8 Elkanah her husband would say to her, "Hannah, why are you weeping? Why don't you eat? Why are you downhearted? Don't I mean more to you than ten sons?"
9 Once when they had finished eating and drinking in Shiloh, Hannah stood up. Now Eli the priest was sitting on a chair by the doorpost of the LORD's temple. 10 In bitterness of soul Hannah wept much and prayed to the LORD. 11 And she made a vow, saying, "O LORD Almighty, if you will only look upon your servant's misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the LORD for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head."
12 As she kept on praying to the LORD, Eli observed her mouth. 13 Hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving but her voice was not heard. Eli thought she was drunk 14 and said to her, "How long will you keep on getting drunk? Get rid of your wine."
15 "Not so, my lord," Hannah replied, "I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the LORD. 16 Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief."
17 Eli answered, "Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked of him."
18 She said, "May your servant find favor in your eyes." Then she went her way and ate something, and her face was no longer downcast.
19 Early the next morning they arose and worshiped before the LORD and then went back to their home at Ramah. Elkanah lay with Hannah his wife, and the LORD remembered her. 20 So in the course of time Hannah conceived and gave birth to a son. She named him Samuel, c]">[c] saying, "Because I asked the LORD for him."
More than several years ago in college, I read an intriguing book about five Biblical characters' prayer lives. One was Hannah, mother of Samuel. Her story, posted above, really touched me because she entrusted her fertility and surrendered her motherhood to God before her son was even conceived. In college I began praying that my future children would learn to love God, and that I would place my desire for their affection towards me beneath my desire that they would know and love Jesus.
When Joe and I began to seriously think about having children, I prayed a very simple prayer, something along the lines of, "God, I think I may be ready to have children, but I want your will and your timing. If it is your will, please open my womb and prepare my heart." About two months later, Daniel was conceived. Six weeks into the pregnancy I had spotting and was heart broken that I had lost the pregnancy. However, things were fine and Daniel is here with us now.
We never went back on birth control in any form but decided to trust again in God's timing, secretly hoping we wouldn't get pregnant right away. Around February, not long after Daniel's first birthday, Joe and I once again began talking about growing the family. In my heart of hearts, I was terrified of disrupting the peace as I totally cherished our little trio. I was overwhelmed at the thought of being home alone each day with an infant and toddler and fearful that I didn't have enough love for two. Once again though, I prayed that God would open my womb if it was his will and that he would prepare my heart for whatever came. While in words I trusted God, in my heart and in action I retracted this submission of will and tried to control circumstances. However, we still managed to conceive. Were it 15 years ago before insanely sensitive at-home digital pregnancy tests, I never would have known early in March that I was pregnant and had miscarried four days later.
Every woman experiences miscarriage in her own way. Mine happened so quickly that I had barely processed the affirmative test. I was not bitter, I was not angry, I was not sad. I was certainly not apathetic and did experience feelings of loss, but I saw the entire experience as a reminder that God alone is sovereign over my fertility. In some respects I had anticipated a miscarriage as a third of pregnancies end in miscarriage and many of my friends have recently experienced miscarriages. I had a feeling for the week leading up to the test and miscarriage that something wasn't right. I've never viewed my children as my own, but as individuals created (or to be created) by a God who has known them far longer and far more deeply than I ever will. Through my miscarriage, I felt loved by God. He loved me enough to remind me that his plans are far greater than my own. I repented of my lack of trust and my attempts to assert my will over his and I felt at peace.
As it turns out, I conceived again mid April and am now 10 weeks along in my third pregnancy. It took Joe and I several weeks to get excited. I read that after a miscarriage, pregnancy never again holds the same carefree joy and that some women stay disconnected emotionally until they actually are holding the healthy infant in their arms. To be honest, I don't think I had that carefree joy while pregnant with Daniel due to the early complications, but it does feel different this time. During the first month, I was constantly anxious and having to constantly pray God would protect this baby and that I would trust God's will with my pregnancy. I still feel a little disconnected and fearful of losing this one too.
It is one thing to know something and another to let that knowledge transform your heart. To some, I might sound delusional in my beliefs, to some I might sound overly pious. Some might say I have it together. I won't claim any of that, because although I have personally experienced God's love and sovereignty over my life, I swim in doubts daily - doubts that seem to drown out whatever conversation I do manage to have with God. However, God hears my prayers... the ones that echo in my head at 3 am when I can't sleep, the ones spoken in fear, the ones said with a lack of confidence that he even hears me. Fortunately, my faith or lack of faith doesn't change who he is, how he loves, or his pursuit of me.
I am still terrified of having two children. Most evenings before I go to bed, I feel like a terrible failure at loving my child, and it just now occurs to me this is because I am trying to love Daniel with mama love and not God love - and I can't offer the love my children need if I am not immersed in it myself. Though it is so vital to his development, Mama and Dada love will fail him. I typically attribute my feelings of failure to exhaustion, not reading to him enough, letting him watch too much tv, or my being holed up on the couch with morning sickness, but the source is much deeper. Daniel will primarily learn of God's love by seeing his parents daily transformed by the power of the cross. My flippant postponement of developing my faith and spending time with God in the name of the chaos that is motherhood does not cut it.
Fortunately, I am surrounded by some amazing women I am blessed to call friends. They are excellent examples of women allowing God to guide their lives as wives, mothers and individuals, and they openly share their failures and daily struggles. Several have committed to holding me accountable. Thanks, ladies!
1 There was a certain man from Ramathaim, a Zuphite from the hill country of Ephraim, whose name was Elkanah son of Jeroham, the son of Elihu, the son of Tohu, the son of Zuph, an Ephraimite. 2 He had two wives; one was called Hannah and the other Peninnah. Peninnah had children, but Hannah had none.
3 Year after year this man went up from his town to worship and sacrifice to the LORD Almighty at Shiloh, where Hophni and Phinehas, the two sons of Eli, were priests of the LORD. 4 Whenever the day came for Elkanah to sacrifice, he would give portions of the meat to his wife Peninnah and to all her sons and daughters. 5 But to Hannah he gave a double portion because he loved her, and the LORD had closed her womb. 6 And because the LORD had closed her womb, her rival kept provoking her in order to irritate her. 7 This went on year after year. Whenever Hannah went up to the house of the LORD, her rival provoked her till she wept and would not eat. 8 Elkanah her husband would say to her, "Hannah, why are you weeping? Why don't you eat? Why are you downhearted? Don't I mean more to you than ten sons?"
9 Once when they had finished eating and drinking in Shiloh, Hannah stood up. Now Eli the priest was sitting on a chair by the doorpost of the LORD's temple. 10 In bitterness of soul Hannah wept much and prayed to the LORD. 11 And she made a vow, saying, "O LORD Almighty, if you will only look upon your servant's misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the LORD for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head."
12 As she kept on praying to the LORD, Eli observed her mouth. 13 Hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving but her voice was not heard. Eli thought she was drunk 14 and said to her, "How long will you keep on getting drunk? Get rid of your wine."
15 "Not so, my lord," Hannah replied, "I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the LORD. 16 Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief."
17 Eli answered, "Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked of him."
18 She said, "May your servant find favor in your eyes." Then she went her way and ate something, and her face was no longer downcast.
19 Early the next morning they arose and worshiped before the LORD and then went back to their home at Ramah. Elkanah lay with Hannah his wife, and the LORD remembered her. 20 So in the course of time Hannah conceived and gave birth to a son. She named him Samuel, c]">[c] saying, "Because I asked the LORD for him."
More than several years ago in college, I read an intriguing book about five Biblical characters' prayer lives. One was Hannah, mother of Samuel. Her story, posted above, really touched me because she entrusted her fertility and surrendered her motherhood to God before her son was even conceived. In college I began praying that my future children would learn to love God, and that I would place my desire for their affection towards me beneath my desire that they would know and love Jesus.
When Joe and I began to seriously think about having children, I prayed a very simple prayer, something along the lines of, "God, I think I may be ready to have children, but I want your will and your timing. If it is your will, please open my womb and prepare my heart." About two months later, Daniel was conceived. Six weeks into the pregnancy I had spotting and was heart broken that I had lost the pregnancy. However, things were fine and Daniel is here with us now.
We never went back on birth control in any form but decided to trust again in God's timing, secretly hoping we wouldn't get pregnant right away. Around February, not long after Daniel's first birthday, Joe and I once again began talking about growing the family. In my heart of hearts, I was terrified of disrupting the peace as I totally cherished our little trio. I was overwhelmed at the thought of being home alone each day with an infant and toddler and fearful that I didn't have enough love for two. Once again though, I prayed that God would open my womb if it was his will and that he would prepare my heart for whatever came. While in words I trusted God, in my heart and in action I retracted this submission of will and tried to control circumstances. However, we still managed to conceive. Were it 15 years ago before insanely sensitive at-home digital pregnancy tests, I never would have known early in March that I was pregnant and had miscarried four days later.
Every woman experiences miscarriage in her own way. Mine happened so quickly that I had barely processed the affirmative test. I was not bitter, I was not angry, I was not sad. I was certainly not apathetic and did experience feelings of loss, but I saw the entire experience as a reminder that God alone is sovereign over my fertility. In some respects I had anticipated a miscarriage as a third of pregnancies end in miscarriage and many of my friends have recently experienced miscarriages. I had a feeling for the week leading up to the test and miscarriage that something wasn't right. I've never viewed my children as my own, but as individuals created (or to be created) by a God who has known them far longer and far more deeply than I ever will. Through my miscarriage, I felt loved by God. He loved me enough to remind me that his plans are far greater than my own. I repented of my lack of trust and my attempts to assert my will over his and I felt at peace.
As it turns out, I conceived again mid April and am now 10 weeks along in my third pregnancy. It took Joe and I several weeks to get excited. I read that after a miscarriage, pregnancy never again holds the same carefree joy and that some women stay disconnected emotionally until they actually are holding the healthy infant in their arms. To be honest, I don't think I had that carefree joy while pregnant with Daniel due to the early complications, but it does feel different this time. During the first month, I was constantly anxious and having to constantly pray God would protect this baby and that I would trust God's will with my pregnancy. I still feel a little disconnected and fearful of losing this one too.
It is one thing to know something and another to let that knowledge transform your heart. To some, I might sound delusional in my beliefs, to some I might sound overly pious. Some might say I have it together. I won't claim any of that, because although I have personally experienced God's love and sovereignty over my life, I swim in doubts daily - doubts that seem to drown out whatever conversation I do manage to have with God. However, God hears my prayers... the ones that echo in my head at 3 am when I can't sleep, the ones spoken in fear, the ones said with a lack of confidence that he even hears me. Fortunately, my faith or lack of faith doesn't change who he is, how he loves, or his pursuit of me.
I am still terrified of having two children. Most evenings before I go to bed, I feel like a terrible failure at loving my child, and it just now occurs to me this is because I am trying to love Daniel with mama love and not God love - and I can't offer the love my children need if I am not immersed in it myself. Though it is so vital to his development, Mama and Dada love will fail him. I typically attribute my feelings of failure to exhaustion, not reading to him enough, letting him watch too much tv, or my being holed up on the couch with morning sickness, but the source is much deeper. Daniel will primarily learn of God's love by seeing his parents daily transformed by the power of the cross. My flippant postponement of developing my faith and spending time with God in the name of the chaos that is motherhood does not cut it.
Fortunately, I am surrounded by some amazing women I am blessed to call friends. They are excellent examples of women allowing God to guide their lives as wives, mothers and individuals, and they openly share their failures and daily struggles. Several have committed to holding me accountable. Thanks, ladies!
The Call of Duty
Dear Bladder,
I greatly appreciate the hard work you have been doing in the past couple months; however, I am concerned that you may be operating above and beyond the call of duty. Well, maybe the call of duty is the problem. Please quit calling. While I agree that this influx of changes is somewhat outside of your control, 11:30 pm, 12:30 am, 1:30 am, 3:30 am, and 6:15 am really is quite excessive. You and I had developed a good flow, but I feel our relationship is rapidly turning against the current. I am flooded with feelings of frustration when I do highly value the role you have played in my life.
Thanks for understanding,
Paige
I greatly appreciate the hard work you have been doing in the past couple months; however, I am concerned that you may be operating above and beyond the call of duty. Well, maybe the call of duty is the problem. Please quit calling. While I agree that this influx of changes is somewhat outside of your control, 11:30 pm, 12:30 am, 1:30 am, 3:30 am, and 6:15 am really is quite excessive. You and I had developed a good flow, but I feel our relationship is rapidly turning against the current. I am flooded with feelings of frustration when I do highly value the role you have played in my life.
Thanks for understanding,
Paige
Monday, June 08, 2009
Failing Head Over Heels
It is definitely a slug day/week here in my house. I believe I just begged Andrea to pour salt on me (spelled poor because it is a slug day and spelling is atrocious). No one warned me that as a parent on any given day at any given time, I would easily be able to rattle off at least 5 reasons I am currently failing at parenting and life in general.
1. I would gladly wrestle my toddler for his tater tots.
2. I have a love hate relationship with Twitter and have spent an hour today contemplating deleting my account. Here's the deal - 1/3 of the time I am amused, 1/3 I am getting heebie-jeebies from all the PTA (public tweets of affection), 1/3 of the time I feel spammed, and 1/3 of the time I am shamelessly scratching my voyeuristic itch. This hour of pondering should have been spent fixing second helpings of tater tots for me and Daniel.
3. I can no longer do math... or spell. Therefore, how can I ever learn to count out enough tater tots for both Daniel and I to be satisfied?
4. I let Daniel watch tv and eat sweets (sometimes at the same time) while I am being a slug on the couch eating his tots.
5. My child is too skinny, and I eat his tater tots.
So there you have it. Ask me tomorrow and I'm sure to have a new list.
1. I would gladly wrestle my toddler for his tater tots.
2. I have a love hate relationship with Twitter and have spent an hour today contemplating deleting my account. Here's the deal - 1/3 of the time I am amused, 1/3 I am getting heebie-jeebies from all the PTA (public tweets of affection), 1/3 of the time I feel spammed, and 1/3 of the time I am shamelessly scratching my voyeuristic itch. This hour of pondering should have been spent fixing second helpings of tater tots for me and Daniel.
3. I can no longer do math... or spell. Therefore, how can I ever learn to count out enough tater tots for both Daniel and I to be satisfied?
4. I let Daniel watch tv and eat sweets (sometimes at the same time) while I am being a slug on the couch eating his tots.
5. My child is too skinny, and I eat his tater tots.
So there you have it. Ask me tomorrow and I'm sure to have a new list.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Potatoes Un-potted
I had one plastic small pot in which I had planted one red skinned potato seed. The seed was about the size of a golf ball. Over the past couple months, this pot has struggled because of it's tendency to dry out due to its size and the soil content, which was only peat. Several times the plant has wilted only to be revived to a spotty but decidedly perky state.
Today, the plant looked like it was finally at the end of its road, so although it was a little early, I decided to un-pot the plant and see what grew.
I was expecting to find nothing in the pot but a tangled mess of roots.
Instead, as I began to shake out the earth, I found a healthy number of maggots and a small but respectable harvest of new potatoes.
The other potatoes are still growing strong and I anticipate to get a much larger yield from them.
The rest of the gardens are also doing very well. I haven't been doing any more pollination by hand as the bumble bees are back in full force due to the dry weather.
I purchased a pot of cukes from Walmart which had seven sprouts, and I failed to thin them out any and now they are growing all over the tomato cage, the brick path, and on top of other tomato plants.
The peppers are setting fruit as well. This pepper, although only a centimeter or so in length, will grow to 4-6 inches before I harvest it, deseed it, fill it with Monterey Jack cheese, dip it in an egg batter and deep fry it!
Today, the plant looked like it was finally at the end of its road, so although it was a little early, I decided to un-pot the plant and see what grew.
I was expecting to find nothing in the pot but a tangled mess of roots.
Instead, as I began to shake out the earth, I found a healthy number of maggots and a small but respectable harvest of new potatoes.
The other potatoes are still growing strong and I anticipate to get a much larger yield from them.
The rest of the gardens are also doing very well. I haven't been doing any more pollination by hand as the bumble bees are back in full force due to the dry weather.
I purchased a pot of cukes from Walmart which had seven sprouts, and I failed to thin them out any and now they are growing all over the tomato cage, the brick path, and on top of other tomato plants.
The peppers are setting fruit as well. This pepper, although only a centimeter or so in length, will grow to 4-6 inches before I harvest it, deseed it, fill it with Monterey Jack cheese, dip it in an egg batter and deep fry it!
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Morning Outing
Most of the time, life is moving at lightning speed where I seem to be awake on the weekends when we slow down to enjoy family time, and the rest of the week is a blur of errands, naps, emails, work and meals. This morning was a rarity of the perfect blend of slowness, activity and reflection. Every other Tuesday I travel to campus to turn in a time sheet and get a chance to linger in a few offices to catch up on life with some friends. This morning Daniel and I made our rounds and then headed down Avent Ferry to see the ducks at Lake Johnson as I had promised him earlier in the morning. I don't know if he has any concept of anticipating upcoming activities, but I have fun trying to build up the excitement.
When I was a couple sweeping road curves away from the lake, I passed this highly tenacious box turtle with long but stout legs crossing from one side of the road to the other. He had nearly reached the turn lane and still had two more lanes to go. I was taken back to childhood when dad would bring home turtles he had saved from the back roads on his way to work. I kept driving aways before deciding that I needed to intervene on behalf of this turtle, but was uncertain what I would do. This was a five lane road with 45 mph traffic that came in waves. I turned around and drove slowly back to where I had last seen the turtle. He had nearly cleared lane 4 and was headed into my lane. I slowed down to a stop and turned on my emergency flashers and winced as I saw a car drive over the turtle, who just barely missed the tires. About five cars drove around me as I waited for the turtle to cross my lane and mount the curb. I then called dad and we talked about turtle rescuing for a couple minutes before Daniel and I arrived at the lake.
Since the ducks were all still trying to sleep, we watched them only a couple moments before strollering on the path. The air was still cool in the shade and the only noises we heard were the stroller's wheels on the gritty pavement, a symphony of bird calls, the heavy breathing of runners and walkers, and the jangling of dog tags. Daniel was fixated on the yellow stop watch I snagged from a field bag that resurfaced in our garage a couple weeks ago, and I took in the trees and marveled how my sense of smell was completely on fire and noticed how every passerby had their own scent. I wondered how dogs were able to contain themselves when passing new people. I decided that I am very content in my youth. There was a time when all I did was worry and plan and dream and scheme, and there will be a time when I do much more reminiscing, but for now, all I am able to manage is living in the moment. I hardly plan each day out, let alone plan for five years down the road. Reminiscing on the past is silly, because in the past I was consumed with where I would be this very moment.
When the shade quit working its magic, Daniel and I headed back to the car and drove to Bruegger's where I ate a somewhat disappointing Better Bacon Cheddar on an Everything bagel and Daniel ate about two-thirds of a massive chocolate chip cookie, which he is still reeling from in his crib as he tries to go down for his nap. I had broken up the cookie in to Daniel-sized bits and watched him cram bite after bite into his mouth and make little humming noises to voice his approval. After washing it all down with a sweet tea, we hopped back in the car and Daniel made car noises all the way home.
When I was a couple sweeping road curves away from the lake, I passed this highly tenacious box turtle with long but stout legs crossing from one side of the road to the other. He had nearly reached the turn lane and still had two more lanes to go. I was taken back to childhood when dad would bring home turtles he had saved from the back roads on his way to work. I kept driving aways before deciding that I needed to intervene on behalf of this turtle, but was uncertain what I would do. This was a five lane road with 45 mph traffic that came in waves. I turned around and drove slowly back to where I had last seen the turtle. He had nearly cleared lane 4 and was headed into my lane. I slowed down to a stop and turned on my emergency flashers and winced as I saw a car drive over the turtle, who just barely missed the tires. About five cars drove around me as I waited for the turtle to cross my lane and mount the curb. I then called dad and we talked about turtle rescuing for a couple minutes before Daniel and I arrived at the lake.
Since the ducks were all still trying to sleep, we watched them only a couple moments before strollering on the path. The air was still cool in the shade and the only noises we heard were the stroller's wheels on the gritty pavement, a symphony of bird calls, the heavy breathing of runners and walkers, and the jangling of dog tags. Daniel was fixated on the yellow stop watch I snagged from a field bag that resurfaced in our garage a couple weeks ago, and I took in the trees and marveled how my sense of smell was completely on fire and noticed how every passerby had their own scent. I wondered how dogs were able to contain themselves when passing new people. I decided that I am very content in my youth. There was a time when all I did was worry and plan and dream and scheme, and there will be a time when I do much more reminiscing, but for now, all I am able to manage is living in the moment. I hardly plan each day out, let alone plan for five years down the road. Reminiscing on the past is silly, because in the past I was consumed with where I would be this very moment.
When the shade quit working its magic, Daniel and I headed back to the car and drove to Bruegger's where I ate a somewhat disappointing Better Bacon Cheddar on an Everything bagel and Daniel ate about two-thirds of a massive chocolate chip cookie, which he is still reeling from in his crib as he tries to go down for his nap. I had broken up the cookie in to Daniel-sized bits and watched him cram bite after bite into his mouth and make little humming noises to voice his approval. After washing it all down with a sweet tea, we hopped back in the car and Daniel made car noises all the way home.
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