Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Bits & Pieces from Home

Life has come to a bit of a standstill for us.  I've been going through some different steps to improve my pelvic girdle pain and in the process, have made a mess of myself.  In alternative medicine, one must usually get worse before they get better, and that is definitely the case with me.  I haven't felt this bad for months.  So, confined to a chair for the most part, life has been slow.  On the flip side, getting worse signifies a possible change for the good in the near future.  I'm cautiously hopeful, since this won't be the first time that I think I have it figured out.


I've been reading again.  It's been a long time since I really spent time reading a book.  I read one of George MacDonald's books, and now "Breaking Free" by Beth Moore.  I've been dealing with fear for about a year now, and I finally cracked.  I mean, I've always dealt with various fear-issues in my life, but in the last year I've really, really dealt with them.  In desperation, I reached out for help from a dear friend who went through similar issues years ago.  One day I will write all about it, but for now, for privacy and protection, I cannot.  If I have talked to you on the phone or in person in the last year, you have heard about some of the problems we've had in our home, anyway.  BUT details aside, my fear was consuming me, slowly breaking me down and wearing me out, and my friend helped to steer me back to God and my need to trust Him and break the foothold Satan had on my heart.  God has revealed still more areas of fear in my life that I need to address.


John and I have been purging our home of *stuff.*  It's amazing how much excess we accumulate in just four years of marriage.  I L-O-V-E organizing, so the more stuff we get rid of, the better I can organize and the happier I will be.  So far I've made it through the linen closet and most of the third bedroom/office, with lots of assistance from my ever-faithful husband.

My favorite memory from the week took place on a relatively warm and sunny afternoon.  John was off for the day and decided to cut the tree down.  THE tree, as it's the only one we have.  It didn't shade the deck, and was at risk of a major butchering from the electric company, anyway...not to mention it's the only spot we have for a little pool for Joshua, and while we thought the tree would provide great shade for that last year, it provided bird droppings instead.  So...needless to say, down it came.  (Note: Seeing John in this precarious position was not part of my favorite memory).

This was, though.  Joshua had his first of many play dates with the mud.  He was in his glory!

He got much, much worse than this.  I didn't get a picture before his bath.  It warms my heart to watch my son frolicking in the mud and playing around the yard just like my brothers and I did years ago.  I love to watch him take delight in all of the same activities we did, where even a piece of broken shingle or a large stick was transformed into a treasure in our eyes.

And yes, it's spring in PA!

All the daffodils are blooming.  This one came up last year, too, just as small.  Just after I took the picture, Joshua picked it.


And lastly, our adoption pursuit came to a close this week.  When we started the process two years ago, I was seeing a doctor who seemed to be helping and figured I'd be better in just a few months between her treatments and physical therapy.  So, we started the process of adoption, knowing it would be a long one and still give me plenty of time to recover.  Well, needless to say, it didn't.

We have already been given two extensions, and we decided to lay it to rest.  It's just not time.  Even if I did miraculously recover in the next month, I have many more months of hard work ahead of me or I will be at constant risk of re-injury, not to mention how physically unfit I am after being chair bound for 80% of the last four years.  It's not going to be an easy year one way or the other.

It's been a slow, gradual retrogression of events and in my heart, I knew it was coming.  Not so much because of my physical state of being, but I knew it wasn't God's time.  I was never willing to admit it, but I've known for a long time, and now circumstances force me to say it out loud.  Yet I'm not sad.  Somewhere in all of this, there's a reason.  Life is not what I would have chosen, and though I struggle at times to believe (like, really believe in my heart) that God has a better plan than any that I can come up with, I know He does.

So there's my life in blog-form.  I'll be back again.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

"Because I Said So"

The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them, and once again I had to face the fact that I wasn't going to be exactly the sort of parent I always 'vowed' I would be while I was growing up.  Ever had those moments as a child where you were being disciplined or 'talked to' by a parent and you promised yourself that you would never do that to your kids?  I had a lot of those moments.  And yes, "because I said so" was one of those lines that I was certain I would never use.  I was the perfect parent before I actually became one.

"Joshua, clean up your toys, please."  (Hey, at least I used manners.)
Joshua: "Why?" (for the hundredth time that day)
"Because I said so."

What does "because I said so" really mean?

I don't have to explain myself to you?

I don't have time to talk this through so just DO IT?

Leave me alone, I'm busy?

Your question is not as important as my problems, right now?

Or maybe it's just an absent-minded, preprogrammed phrase that parents use in response to the continuous stream of "why" questions that are thrown at them every hour of the day.  

But doesn't every question deserve an answer?  Especially when the "why" comes from a three-year old who is full of curiosity, eager to learn, trying to understand-- he's not questioning my authority or back-talking, stalling for time or trying to decide whether he ought to help me out or not.

After cringing at the words that had popped out of my mouth, I immediately explained, "Because it's important to put your toys away after you are done with them, so our house can be clean."

It really isn't that hard to take the extra time to explain, and it's fun to talk with Joshua about life-things.

"Mommy, why do bees make honey?"

"Mommy, why do I have to brush my teeth?"

"Mommy, why can't I have another cookie?"

"Mommy, why is it raining?"

"Why can't I colour my hand with the marker?"

The more I start to pay attention to what Joshua's saying, and really listen and try to understand the little mind behind the questions, both big and small, the more joy I find in answering him.  It's so easy to get caught up in my own little world- a world that doesn't always have time for three-year old questions- but the world outside of myself is a whole lot better.

Monday, March 7, 2011


Today was the sort of day that looked like it ought to be warm and spring-like outside, and somehow this idea propelled us outdoors despite the cool temperatures.  The cold is so much easier to tolerate when it doesn't look as cold as it feels, don't you think?

Today became Joshua's first tricycle lesson.

His legs weren't quite co-ordinated (or strong?) enough to move the bike, but with a little push here and a shove there, he did well.

I trimmed the rosebush and cleaned the mulch from around the roots. That's all I could handle for the day, but it left me craving more!  Spring is so close I can taste it.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Our Four-Year Anniversary

Four years ago...

I sat in a room full of girls, laughing and talking around me, as I prepared for the moment when the entire course of my life would change forever.

I moved miles away from "home" because I couldn't live without this guy.

He's my favorite.

He's the first face I see when I wake up...and the last one I see as I fall asleep.  I like it that way.  My heart would ache if he wasn't there.

This man has loved me, cherished me, and cared for me in sickness and health (literally), for four years.  Tenderly.  Lovingly.  Passionately.

He makes me laugh.  He wipes my tears.

He holds my hand...

And he holds my heart.  Forever.

I love you, Johnny Boy.