Faith Before Understanding

I’m enjoying some wildly rich Pioneer Woman’s hot chocolate, sitting in front of my window looking at the foot of snow we’ve received in the last two days. Everything is covered in bright white snow.

The stillness that comes from an unanticipated storm always takes me by surprise; the sky offering a gray backdrop to snow-covered roofs.

It’s that way with our hearts too I think…with a storm comes…stillness (maybe forced?). Listening…watching…waiting. Is it fear or is it anticipation?

I read in the book of John today about Jesus turning water into wine at a wedding. It’s a story I’ve heard/read probably a 100 times before. But the obedience of the disciples caught my eye in a new way today.

Jesus’ mother told them to follow whatever directions Jesus gave them and they were ready and waiting. And when Jesus told them to fill six 30-gallon jugs with water…they did it. Simple instructions but not context. They had no idea what Jesus was up to.

We get to read to the end of the story. We know He’s going to do a miracle. We know He’s making wine. But they didn’t and they followed Him anyway.

The disciples were willing even though they didn’t know what was going to happen next. And that, right there is the achiles heel of my faith. I want context. I want big picture understanding before daily faith.

Today’s scripture was a gentle reminder that faith is a little blind sometimes and it makes you do crazy things that don’t always make a lot of sense. Faith is acting on a belief without all the answers, neatly sorted out and organized.

What the disciples didn’t get to see in the moment, but I do, is that Jesus was orchestrating a miracle. And it was a simple miracle to make people’s lives better. To dare I say, make them happy??

Water to wine. Miracles everywhere, big and small, quiet moments in the midst of a storm, if I’m willing to see them. Simply obey and watch God do amazing things.

So easy to feel inspired, quite another to live it.

18 Months plus a Birth Story

Luke is 18 months. How is that possible? We went for his well-child appointment today and he weighed in at a hearty 26.5 pounds (76th percentile) and 35 inches (99th percentile). Tall and skinny.

As I was looking through my archives to put together my year-end post a week or so ago, I noticed that I never wrote down Luke’s birth story. And while he will likely never care one way or the other, I do. His birth was so beautiful and such a lovely memory that I would hate to not chronicle it.

***

For nine months I worried and wondered about the little being growing in my belly. As spring turned to summer, excitement grew as quickly as my belly. I was also mentally preparing for what I hoped would be a natural childbirth. My midwife was supportive but noncomittal as was my husband. I read a ton and watched too many youtube videos of home births (I know I know…but hormones make you do kind of crazy things).

***

Fourth of July weekend came around and I was two weeks from my due date. My in-laws and extended family came for the weekend and we were busy hitting parks and the farmers market, barbecuing in the backyard and chasing after Jack. As the weekend progressed, I noticed some changes going on in my body. No consistent contractions but definitely inching towards labor. I was thrilled and hopeful but didn’t want to get my hopes up. I was two weeks early at that point and Jack had been 6 days overdue.

***

My mom, who was scheduled to fly in the week of my due date, went into maternal overdrive and hopped on a plane. There was no way she was missing the birth and absolutely didn’t care if she had to sit around at my house for a couple of weeks. I was relieved and so thankful to have her here. The next few days were spent wrapping up work, taking naps, reading stories with Jack and just trying to stay busy. I think I even packed my hospital bag, silently cursing myself for jinxing any chance I would have to go into labor.

Tuesday: I had a doctor’s appointment. Three centimeters dilated, 80 percent effaced and basically a walking time bomb. I fully expected to go into labor that afternoon. Nothing happened.

Wednesday: Nothing. Tears were shed. Pouting ensued. That night, after putting Jack to bed, I had a burst of energy. I asked Aaron to go for a walk. We walked over three miles in perfect summer evening breeze. I felt full of energy and completely renewed. I felt like I might make it another week or two if the baby wasn’t going to come. When we got home, I sat on the yoga ball and watched tv, stretching my aching back and hips.

Thursday: 1:07am I am awake with a contraction. Woah. What was that? I gingerly rolled over and tried go back to sleep. 1:14am, another one. Time to get up. Within an hour I was pacing around my kitchen island, unable to sit down. I had downloaded a contraction timer ap on my phone and contractions were consistently 3 to 5 minutes apart. I was determined to stay at home as long as possible. I woke Aaron and got in the shower.

5am: My contractions are 2 to 3 minutes apart and I know its time to go to the hospital. I grudgingly accept going. We leave before Jack wakes up.

I wait and wait in triage, breathing through contractions, wondering how long I’m going to be in there and if I’m as far along as I hope. The nurse checks and I’m 8 centimeters.

Here was the catch though…my babies are big and posterior. Which means they stay high up in my body and they are turned the wrong way. Jack needed a little extra help with the birthing process (vacuum) and the same thing seemed to be happening again. I paced and sat on a birthing ball and leaned over the bed but I was tired and frightened.

I’ve often heard that you are either the type of woman who ‘likes’ the labor part or you ‘like’ the pushing part. Clearly, there are no winners, frankly it’s all terrible, but more about what you tolerate better, I guess. I am a labor person. There are breaks between contractions and I feel like I am making progress with each contraction. Pushing for me is scary. And because I got scared, I asked for an epidural.

I got it and immediately calmed down. It also calmed down the progress I was making. At around 9:30am my mom showed up at the hospital with the breakfast I had specifically requested for ‘my post-birth celebration meal,’ thick pieces of french toast with a homemade blueberry sauce. unfortunately, I was 10 centimeters dilated with a baby still kicking my ribs. It was going to be a little while.

Two hours later and it was time to push. Aaron was amazing and my mom cheered from across the room. There was something so special and bonding about having my own mother there with me. Twenty minutes later and our beautiful baby Luke was in my arms. A perfect 8 pounds 13 ounces at 11:49am.

No words will ever adequately describe the moment you meet your child. all I really remember was crying and telling him how much I loved him over and over again. I think I wrote this in another blog post a while back…he was the answer to the whispered prayer I didn’t know I was praying. He was always supposed to be with us, and then suddenly there he was, and we felt so complete and overjoyed at finally getting to meet him.

The next day, on my birthday, we left the hospital to go home as a family of four. A mama and daddy with two boys.

***

Eighteen months later and that joy only renews each day. Now he walks and runs and climbs. He talks in non-stop baby jibber jabber with new words emerging almost daily. He loves to be held and is delightfully snuggly. Still a bit shy but at the same time a major flirt, he’s quick to warm up. He is obsessed with his brother, his green blanket and anything to eat. He loves trucks, music and being outside.  I pulled out our second plastic toy lawnmower and the boys spent over an hour ‘mowing’ side by side in the backyard. The boys compliment each other in so many ways. My prayer is that they are friends for years to come.

With surprise and sometimes fear, comes overwhelming joy. Luke is my daily reminder.

10 on 10 Two Days Late

I managed to take the pictures…but couldn’t quite get them posted in time. Oh well, still fun to peek at people’s days and try and slow down long enough to enjoy a few of my own.

Magic Carpet

We are having so much fun taking our boys to White Pass to go ‘skiing.’

And by skiing, I really mean: drive an hour listening to never-ending toddler gibberish, wrestle 12 pounds of gear onto everybody, take it all off for an emergency potty break, wrestle it all back on, huff and puff up to the magic carpet, yell and cheer like an idiot for Jack, chase the baby who is determined to get on the high-speed quad (or get run over by a snowboarder) and after what seems like a ridiculously long time but is really only an hour or two, schlep everyone back to the car and peel off 12 pounds of gear that is now damp with snow.

Sounds like fun right?

Seriously though, its honestly a blast.

If Jack wasn’t completely and wholeheartedly enthusiastic about it, we wouldn’t be going. But he is. And that makes Aaron and I happily willing to do the grueling tasks of schlepping and wrestling and peeling and potty-breaking and answering the all important questions of ‘are we there yet?’ and ‘can I have a snack?’ 2700 times in the hour-long ride.

Luke, on the other hand is mostly enthusiastic about sled rides and meandering away from his distracted mother. In every video of Jack skiing, Luke is screaming in the background, usually due to me pinning him to one spot with my leg so that I don’t lose him in the 30 seconds it takes to watch Jack come down the hill.

We sit in the lodge and eat a snack and I watch the middle-school boys in their neon jackets and sweaty messy hair and think to myself…that will be my kid someday. It seems impossible and like it’s about to happen all at the same time.

The days seem to be speeding up, weeks and months slipping by so quickly. First it’s Jack on the magic carpet and in what feels like moments, will be both of them off together, most-likely hurtling themselves down black diamonds laughing at my pleas to slow down and be careful.

Wrapping Up a Year

The sky is painted bright stripes of pink and orange this morning. As I’ve been sitting at my desk in front of the window, contemplating how to wrap up an entire year into one blog post, the sky has warmed to a lovely orange with a hint of blue sky peeking through pink clouds. If you have to be awake before the sun comes up, this is surely the sweetest way to welcome the morning.

(hands down my favorite photo from last year)

I’m not really sure how to wrap up the last year. It was exhausting but full of fun and happiness all in the same breath. Blessings rained down on our family in big and small ways. My family moved to town, Aaron’s career took off, our boys were healthy and thriving. We have amazing friends, a warm house and got to go and do so many fun things. The boys grew in leaps and bounds before our eyes and I even got a full nights sleep before the end of the year.

Luke went from a teeny tiny baby who hadn’t even had a bite of food to a toddler who walks (runs!), talks, eats everything in sight, has many many opinions, gives the best hugs and kisses, loves books and trucks, his brother, throwing balls and eating crayons.

Jack went from a diaper-wearing toddler who slept in a crib to a full-blown kid who goes to preschool, rides a bike, puts on his own shoes, poops in the potty, tells winding hilarious stories and spends hours playing legos and cars and trains.

I look back at posts from January and February of last year and I see babies. Two little babies. And in my writing, I hear a tired, frazzled, slightly post-partum mama. We got sick a lot.

But the sun did come out and with it came a breath of fresh air. Spring brought lots of time outside. We planted our garden and got baby chicks.

The summer brought a wonderful family vacation with some of our best friends. We celebrated Luke turning one with a big party and headed to the lake for a family reunion. We even tried our hand at camping (for one night). The boys loved it and we dreamed about a few years from now when camping is a regular summer occurance.

Summer also brought my parents to town. They had talked about moving to Yakima for a couple of years but the timing had never been quite right. In June they put their house up for sale and three weeks later it was sold. After a whirlwind house hunt in Yakima, they found a house on a couple of acres outside of town and made their dreams of a hobby farm a reality.

Summer was also hard. My work-life balance had been off for a while and the frustration and stress of my situation was peaking. I knew something had to change, but there just didn’t seem like any viable options to do what I do in our small town outside of where I already worked. And then a miracle happened. And that might sound dramatic, but God knew exactly what I needed, and orchestrated the most incredible situation. There’s just no way it couldn’t have been from Him.

In August I was offered a freelance contract to work for a local hospital, doing what I love to do best; writing, telling stories, blogging and helping their team with strategic communication and fundraising. By September I was in my new setting, working half what I used to work with a team who I thoroughly enjoy. For the first time in my career I get when people say they love their job.

Jack started preschool two mornings a week and Luke started walking. Both milestones felt epic for our family. We celebrated Jack turning three with a big party at my parent’s new house. I started a women’s bible study and I pulled the boys out of daycare. Fall was busy and quiet all at the same time.

The holidays crept up quickly and in the busyness of traveling and cooking and getting together with family, both Aaron and I lost loved ones. Aaron’s beloved grandmother passed away the day before Thanksgiving and my aunt passed away just a few days after Thanksgiving. Both of their services were profound in magnifying what is important in life. In different ways, both these women deeply loved the people around them. Aaron’s grandmother was married to her husband for 61 years, raised four childen and foster children. She was a school teacher and inspired multiple family members to go into education. She was the wife and mother I aspire to be: kind, gentle, loving.

My aunt spent 24 years battling cancer. And yet, she was never ever defined by her illness. She is remembered for her love of cooking, bright colors, her love of books, fresh flowers and candles. She raised two children by herself in the midst of treatment and was beloved by her friends, colleagues and church family. She was defined by her ability to inspire others. Her service was a testament to finding joy in all the little ways life is beautiful. She is deeply missed by her friends and children.

Christmas came. It was sweet and quiet and so so lovely. Aaron and I have spent the last couple of days talking about the upcoming year and what we want out of it. The word that keeps coming up over and over again is intention.

To be intentional with each other and our boys. Intentional with friends, colleagues, work, church, finances and our own bodies. Aaron has a hard time slowing down, going from one task to another, never resting. I tend to do five things at once, never quite finishing things or completing them to the level they deserve. Both of us want to create new habits this year, ones that revolve around our family, ensuring we are treating our boys and each other with the intention they deserve.

Welcome 2012. It’s going to be a good one.

How about you? Any resolutions?

A Little More Christmas

We had a quiet cozy Christmas at home.

We enjoyed a lot of good food, surprisingly mild weather, days of sleeping in, time with my brothers and parents and much-needed down time. Aaron and I have made a habit of renting Redbox movies and lighting a fire in our fireplace every evening. Like I said…quiet and cozy.

Aaron’s mom gifted the boys tractor ornaments this year and they are just perfect. Both boys love to inspect the tree, looking for ‘their’ ornaments. Jack loves to tell us that ‘he wishes he had a tractor.’

Thanks to a new addiction to pinterest, I tried a new cookie recipe this year: raspberry almond shortbread. My mom and I couldn’t stop eating them, Aaron claimed that because they have ‘fruit’ in them, they weren’t actually a dessert. Whatever.

 

It was just the four of us on Christmas morning and Santa brought Jack quite the surprise — a 4wheeler. It’s the only thing the kid has asked for all season long and when we saw a deal of the century we jumped on it. I’m not sure who was more excited for this gift…Daddy or Jack.

Luke was pretty thrilled too.

The rest of the day was spent at my parents house opening gifts, eating and relaxing. I want to remember this year. The way the boys dug through their stockings and Jack asked me about Santa coming down the chimney. I want to remember snuggling Luke close as we sang carols at Christmas eve service; his hair smelling faintly of gingerbread cookies and little boy. I want to remember laying in bed on Christmas Eve night so excited for the morning, now for a whole different reason.

So many lovely happy moments.

Tell me…how was your Christmas?

Christmas Cinnamon Rolls

The last two days have been consumed with baking cinnamon rolls. The recipe was my great-grandmother. Over the years, the tradition slowly moved to my father and for years he made enough batches for the entire family to enjoy on Christmas.

Last year, I decided to attempt them. While not hard, they are labor intensive and take a long time. Without a bread machine, you have to let them rise twice. Thankfully, a dear friend lets me borrow her bread machine and that cuts down immensely on the time it takes.

I love having this tradition. It was pretty fun to work alongside my dad yesterday, teasing and laughing about who had the right ‘technique,’ arguing over who could read the recipe card and who was deviating from the recipe.

Twelve trays of rolls later, we patted ourselves on the back for a job well done. I love having this tradition and I love that it’s something my dad and I can do together. I hope years from now one of my sons will pick up the tradition as well and join us in the kitchen.

Christmas Part One

We hosted an early Christmas for my husband’s family last weekend. Five siblings, various significant others, the in-laws and two wild boys.

I was a little nervous about having 7 overnight guests and potentially being cooped up in the house for an entire weekend, but it ended up being perfect.

We ran around with the little ones, watched Christmas movies, made homemade sugar cookie houses, opened gifts, ate a lot of food, played games and just sat around visiting. We did make one quick outing to a little Christmas festival in our neighborhood to see the lit up Coke trucks and of course, Santa.

We are really lucky to all enjoy each other as much as we do. I think it’s kind of rare you can put that much family into one house and it doesn’t end in screaming or bleeding.

Although there was an excessive amount of spilling. I’m choosing to believe that was a sign of good times. When you need the steam cleaner mid-party, I would say that’s a good sign all around.

Christmas Program

There is an odd sense of arrival when you take your kid to their first ‘Christmas program rehearsal’ and a whole other set of emotions somewhere along the lines of pride/giddiness/silliness/love/affection when you see your wide-eyed, slightly horrified 3-year-old stand up in front of the entire church (with his sunday school class) to sing a Christmas song.

The cuteness was almost too much.

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There’s actually two different ‘programs’ on the slideshow…the first was the Sunday morning Christmas program and the second is from his preschool Christmas program.

I apparently have some stage-mom tendencies because I was on my knees in the aisle (both times!) with my camera and iphone alternating between madly snapping photos, trying to encourage smiling/singing/participating and taking video with my phone.

***

Jack is just getting so BIG these days. The funny stories, the things he thinks about, everything he’s learning, even the way he looks. It’s a little much for me sometimes. Slow down I want to yell! It’s too much too fast, but good, so very very good.

Every Monday Morning…

Early morning sunlight, ecstatic little boys offering full-bodied waves at the garbage truck. They hear the squeaking tires as the truck turns into the coul-d-sac and immedietely run for the window, begging to stand on the desk for the best view. Little brother following all of big brother’s cues. If he waves, then so does Luke. If Jack decides just to watch then Luke follows suit. As the truck pulls away from the house, he always offers a honk and wave, sending the boys into squeals and more waving. ‘He honked at me mama!!!’

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Andrea

 

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