Dancing with December

O December

You never evade me.

My heart betrays me.

It’s a painful price to even look at you.

8 years passed.

In my head, she dies again…. Every time.

All treasonous senses so religiously remind me.

Time’s repetitious dance is my enemy.

If I could blot you out, I would.

Useless to pray you away.

My old love for you remembers better days.

Days filled with light passed, now clouded by darkness.

Days with joy and excitement passed, now knocks dread.

Warm family closeness wrestles isolation.

Why must I take your hand as you escort me through memories I wish I could forget?

Your swift movements lure me in, arms remain warm as the silent snow falls.

I feel your attempts to cover my eyes from the sight of her empty face, but it’s no use.

I hear your song, “Because of the One we celebrate this season, we have Hope…”

It’s not that I don’t take solace in those words. I do.

It’s just the measure of my heartache is that great.

And you know this. Every year you know this.

You are one of the precious few who know me this well.

So this ornament, made with my own careful hands, will whisper in my ear

"Just breathe." 






(In memory of Sarah Layne Wing 9/7/06 - 12/17/06)

Awake: Surviving Depression

It's been 3 months since I've written anything. There's good reason to my hesitancy in publishing anything within those months. I've been unwell. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months of laying on the couch, in so much pain and weakness, watching my children fall into routine of taking more responsibilities because I was unable. Headaches and fatigue ruled my life and my mind became captive to it. My thoughts had no clarity, in fact the only thing that I could make out were words that said, "You are a burden." Those words drove me to desire death, so that my loved ones could go on with someone else, someone new, someone able. I never attempted suicide, but dreamed that God would just take me somehow. I had already been in the thick of the headaches, and the Spirit of God gave me strength and an oasis to spend the time I did with my Uncle Bud before and during his death. I found myself jealous of my uncle's passing, wishing it had been me. Any logic that was left in me said, "GO TO THE DOCTOR!!"

 I gave up. I surrendered. I tried all my natural home remedies. Any time I brought God up in it all, I condemned myself or felt God being passive to my suffering. I was in a physical, mental, and spiritual fog. I had successfully isolated myself away from most of my family and friends (because I "was a burden" remember?) My husband, (who is the best husband in the world, by the way) would come home from his stressful job to all the housework at home, five little kids yearning for his attention, needing his referee-ing. Not knowing what to say to me, he just held me. Whenever I asked, he held me. I would cry guilty tears of not getting anything done around the house. He'd coach me saying, "This too shall pass" but those words were muffled to my ears. I was stuck in "the now." I was overwhelmed with the endless torment my body had apparently betrayed me with, waiting to die, wanting to die. My husband took me to my first appointment.

I remember sitting there in disbelief that it had gotten this bad. My health. My depression. They were spiraling together, sinking me down and tying me to the bottom. My bonds were just too tight. Out of boredom of waiting in the doctor's office, I surfed through my email and found an article titled, "You Are Not Alone." I took a deep breath.

The doctor found my thyroid issues, and we started the long trek of balancing that out. Then continued on more meds for my depression. I had started this unique therapy with my Uncle Ed (who is a gifted counselor) called "EMDR Therapy" and it has greatly improved my mental clarity. Two mentors, who are some of my best friends, never left me in the dark alone. They walked with me, listening to my anger and desperation, never judging, turning my face to the hope of tomorrow. I finally started feeling better and then sprained my ankle, making me bedridden once again. Another bond, another weight. I felt so defeated. I asked God why He wanted me this way? Why He isn't protecting me or healing me to be able to live the way He says He wants us to? But I continued to take my meds, do the therapy, allow my body to heal, talk to my mentors, and ask my husband to hold me.

I still have my bad days of headaches, but each week seems to get a little better. As the bonds fade, my mind becomes clearer. This is not some miraculously quick healing for me, but the miracle here is what I have become even more aware of during this process. I found my Beloved Lord again. Not as this passive God who just stood and watched me writhe in pain, nor as a condemning God for not being the wife/mom/friend that I needed to be. He was in the doctor who sat and heard my ailments and knew what would help me. He was in my Uncle who so gracefully counseled me in the safety of his love for me, with a therapy he knew would help me. He was in my mentor and friend that sat across from me til midnight every Tuesday night at that restaurant, relating to my struggles, reminding me that life is hard, but we can do life together and we'll get through this. And He was in another mentor that corresponded words of wisdom and understanding, challenging me to grow and to see beyond myself. And my favorite, was when He held me through the arms of my husband, "this too shall pass" "this is only a season" "I know you are hurting. I know. And I love you."  I had found myself again too. My notorious God-given "strong-will" that has gotten me, truly, this far in life and then... I didn't want to die anymore. (I mean, don't get me wrong, heaven is going to be awesome, but...) I wasn't so ready to leave right now.

I want to live. I see God everywhere.

In this slow healing, I am learning patience, grace, new appreciations, and new perspectives.

I finally made it to church this sunday, after months of being absent, and my pastor put it perfectly, teaching us (from the example of the Hebrews being freed and wandering the wilderness for so long) that you can be taken out of slavery, but it is through the wilderness, the slavery can be taken out of you.

God has, indeed, freed me from my bonds through Jesus Christ, but it was the bonds that were in me that I was feeling still. This world is the wilderness, for which I will learn how to live in this freedom from my bonds.

And every morning, I wake up, making it a point to say, "I am fine."

The Richest Feeling in the World

One day before he died, his wife washed him with water and washcloths. 

I've had the privilege of sitting with my uncle in his last week before he died. These moments (pictured) were some of the last moments this wife had to serve her husband, literally the day before he died. He'd been in the hospital for weeks and she wanted to wash him. Being hooked up to so many tubes she got a bucket with warm water and washcloths and washed him. There was some time I had with him alone, before this, while she went away to get ready for the move to hospice that was to take place in just a few hours. I brought my dad's journals with me (journals he wrote in while he was sick before he died) in hopes to read them to my uncle to give him some comfort. Words that may make him feel he is not alone in this final journey on Earth.

"A favorite honeymoon memory is....
       On our wedding night, we stayed at a flea bag motel called the Hickman Motor Lodge, making distant plans for a distant honeymoon that we have cared less and less about, to some ever-changing location. The tree of love has many branches and roots. God has let me see the roots of my tree; a privilege I thank Him for.     My Honeymoon- that special bloom in a marriage- began March 1, 2000 when doctors told me even "Ziebart" won't help my body. I have fallen in Love with Lyn more than ever in my life, more than I have words to express. From the depths of my soul I am overwhelmed with a closeness I could have never imagined. I have never felt so full of Love and so loved, so safe, so cared for, as I do now. I love everyone ten times more, but I love my mate 100 times more. God, Lyn, my family - I am the richest man in the world... 
    ...... to infinity and beyond!"  
                                                                              ~journal entry written by Joseph Ruppert, Jr. 

When I got finished reading that passage, I looked up at my uncle and witnessed the gladdest smile, his wrinkles like sun beams brightening his face, his eyes were closed with gratefulness and he said, "Yes! THAT is soooo true! I love her sooo much!"

Suffering Always Leaves Behind a Gift

This last couple months has been extra hard for me. I was extra depressed, not able to deal with certain anniversaries and I have been having health issues. I had decided enough is enough. I signed myself up for some counseling and finally went to the doctor for whatever drugs that may help me. The doctor actually found that I had hypothyroidism, which explained almost all of my symptoms. So... I'm crazy, but I'm not crazy....  I'm still seeing my counselor for the chronic stress part of things.

Things kinda got worse before I started feeling better (for now), so I feel like I'm coming out of this dark cave of sickness and finally getting some light on my face. 

So.... in efforts to get back to blogging more regularly, I wanted to share with you this nugget. This video always reminds me of the gift that suffering can bring. I hate suffering. I have fought and wrestled with "why we are here if all we do is suffer" as it seems to be so much of the time, especially when I'm in these caves of darkness, and I know I'll continue to wrestle. The cave consumes me and tells me lies that this is all there is. But it's simply not true. When I suffer, those are some of my most intimate moments with God. When I suffer, it shows me empathy that I can then share with others who are suffering and lost.
I know the cave. I can acknowledge that it's there.

But it is not all there is.

And you will get out. 

And it's not until you get out, that you see the gift that it left. 


Enjoy this video "Rain" by Rob Bell from his Nooma series. (it's 10 minutes long, but it's well worth the encouragement) 

Not this time. Not this year. Making U turns in the grieving process.

 On the 7th of September, every year, I open the box of yellow cake mix, stir in the oil and eggs, and then slowly and gently fill each paper cup with that thick pudding-like batter. As they bake, you can smell cake throughout the whole house. After they cool on the cooling racks, I carefully smooth the chocolate fudge frosting over top. A bowl of M&M’s waits patiently to be picked through. The blue ones are what I’m after. I place a single blue M&M in the middle of each cupcake, donning the symbol of her endearment, “blueberry.” It is her birthday after all. What’s a birthday without cupcakes?

I raise no decorations throughout the house. No presents are ever bought. Only letters are written. Notes from the kids; from siblings, cousins, and the friends she would’ve had, tucked away in helium balloons to send off to the sky in imagined hopes of her retrieving them. Then we eat the cupcakes.

The cupcakes that were meant for a little girl…

…a little girl that’s not. here.

Not here.

I’m a jealous mother. I want to hold and squeeze my blonde hair, blue eyed 8 year old girl. The one that would be turning into a little woman so fast before my eyes. The one that would be my niece’s sanity in the midst of being surrounded by boys. The one that would be teaching her younger sisters everything she knew, because... you know... she would know everything... Ah, I am so very jealous! It makes me angry. But mostly, it hurts. It hurts a lot.

This year will be 8 years. Why, after doing this for 7 years, am I coming to a point this year where I don’t want to do it? (I’m not sure I have an answer to that) I can’t promise I’ll feel like this next year, but for some reason, I just can’t do it this year. Not this time.

And that’s okay.

I’m not okay. (Don’t worry, I’m getting help for that.) But it’s okay that I do what needs to be done. If it’s going to be too much this year, then I call it off. This is part of my process. And I’m allowed that.

Sometimes in the midst of doing things consistently, you have to check yourself and make sure you are still okay with it. It’s okay, to be okay, with things that people deem weird. And it’s okay for you to not be okay, with things that people are expecting. You may get some push back, but it’s not about them. This is about allowing yourself to process your own grieving journey.

For me, this year it just feels like a slap in the face. I don’t know how I did it all the other years, but this year, my face already hurts just thinking about it. (literally and figuratively) I want to be able to just break down and cry without my whole family and the few close friends watching me. My closed doors have their freedom in that. Sarah’s siblings demanded to be able to release balloons still and that’s okay, I’m conceding for them. I need to allow them that because that’s also part of my job as their mother too. They still want to celebrate her birthday and I love them for that.

Obviously no one is safe from making “U turns” in their grieving process, no matter how long it’s been. This year has been an extra hard year for me and I’m making a lot of changes. I didn’t foresee me making changes here too, but it’s what feels right, right now. And I must follow it out. There will always be next year. I’m just glad I have a supportive family that keeps up with my change of weather, call it quirky, and love me anyway.


Not-so-Happy Birthday, my sweet Sarah. Your mother just simply misses you. 

Read her story here.

Read what we did last year for her birthday here. 

Snow White is Right!

Corrodi-Schneewittli 1866/67

Our family has been binge watching Once Upon a Time, TV series. If you don't know what binge watching is, it's when you have Netflix and you wait forever for your favorite series of shows to appear for instant streaming (a whole season) and when it does, you eat, sleep, and breathe that series until it's over. It's a little sad, I admit, but most, if not all Netflix consumers do it.

There was a particular episode that stood out to me that a little voice inside my head said, "Yes. You need to write about that." It was so encouraging. Even my husband who must have been creeping on my face said, "The look on your face is priceless." -meaning... I had the cheesy, feel good smile on my face as I watched Snow White talk to her Prince Charming. Snow White said,

"How could I bring something good into a world when there was always something bad out there.... But Regina (the evil queen) will always be a problem. If not her, there will be someone or something else. There will always be something else. We can't let it define us. We have to find the good moments in between all the bad ones." 

Preach it, girl!

It is so easy to look at all the bad things in life and make that your center focus of "how your life goes." I sat with my counselor last week and listed off all the things I've been through. I spoke mostly on the bad stuff, (which is essentially part of why I'm there) but I barely mentioned the good stuff. You know... the fact that I have the best husband in the world, or about each and every one of my successful birthing stories, or that I'm blessed to be able to be home and home school, none of that. I mean, I mentioned them quickly, "Yeah, I have 5 kids at home and home school.... but but but... then THIS happened.." and the list went on.

It's so easy to get so boggled down with all the bad stuff and let it paralyze you. (and yes, I'm talking to myself now as well) It reminds me of the story of the elephant with the string wrapped around it's ankle. When they are babies, their trainers will chain them to a post strong enough to hold them. They'll struggle and struggle to get away and can't. Then as they grow, the chain slowly evolves into a simple string. All it takes is to feel that material around their ankle when they move to remind them that they are stuck and they give up, when in fact, it will take the slightest effort for them to break away.

That's what I mean by paralyzed. By fear of all the bad things that keep happening, there comes a point where one just gives up and gives in to it. "I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears." * It wraps you up like a blanket, ailing you further as times go on without your awesomeness.

When will it stop? When you choose to listen to Snow White.

Yes. Bad things happen to all people, good and bad. We all have a rough go of it. But the beauty that you are truly defined by lies within those moments in between. Counting the blessings you do have. Nurturing the friendships you do have. Raising the children you do have. Serving the community you do have. Breathing while you have breath. Speaking while you have words. Loving because you are human.

If you are waiting for your life to stop having bad moments in order to start enjoying the good things, you are missing the point. You must steal back your time. Seek out the good. Even if it's just for a moment depending on the season, seek it out. It does not come easy to do this. It's hard for some of us. Ask your closest lighthearted friend to help you. But you must walk, when you can because you can.

And because you. are. awesome.






* Psalm 6:6

Little Red Book: Swell

Your heart is breaking 
as it should. 
It breaks perfectly. 






(notes from my little red book.) 

"Time heals all wounds." ((SMACK!!!)) "No. No it doesn't"

He needed to get his ring off. He injured his hand and the swelling was just too much. It was the silver ring his bride gave him 15 years prior. His knuckles had grown since then and he never took it off, but now it was a necessity. He did everything he could to get that old silver ring off. But he eventually went in to get it cut off. With his hand on the mend, he and his bride decided they wanted to replace both of their silver rings for gold ones. It was a golden year, after all, because little did they know, that coming year was their last together.

When I saw his ring I couldn't believe the mutilation it had to go through just to get off his finger. Not only did they cut it, but it was stretched and bent crooked. It didn't even look the same. It was put away in a box for safe keeping.

He and Mom both wore their golden rings with pride. They've worked so hard for their meager earnings and to be able to wear something as lovely as those rings, shining bright for the world to see their token of love for each other was a blessing.

Cancer is very unpredictable. It surprised us all and no one knew for sure when he would breathe his last. . But sure enough, six months after being diagnosed, on a foggy night in September, alone with his bride, all five children sleeping just outside the room, he finally found Rest.

Just like that old silver ring, we were all torn apart. Cut off, stretched, and bent. I can still smell the fog of that night. It still visits me occasionally when the weather is just right.

My mother gave me that little box with his old silver mutilated ring. I had it soldered and sized to my finger and have worn it ever since.

That was 14 years ago...

It is one of the most cherished things I carry with me always.

Last year my fingers swelled so bad from my sixth pregnancy that I had to get my rings off. I couldn't get Dad's off. I stood before the jewelers, as brave as I could muster, letting the pain of it's tightness win over my grief that it had to leave my finger this way, and let them cut it off. I bawled my eyes out after that. My heart clenched itself.

It's been a year and I waited for my fingers to calm down from the weight I so thankfully put on. So I gave my ring to the jewelers to have it soldered back together and sized. After all, that ring was made to fit my 16 year old finger! We couldn't afford to pay for both rings (my wedding ring and Dad's ring) so I had to pick one. Ugh! MY WEDDING RING or DAD'S RING?!?! How was I to decide? I missed them both so much, having gone this whole year without either.

 My husband planned to pick it up and asked me, "So... which ring do you want me to pick up?"

My heart clenched again. I held my breath and I felt shame admitting that I wanted Dad's ring. "I want my wedding ring back on my finger so bad but...." I paused..." Dad's ring....it's stressing me that it's away from me. Does that make sense?"

"Yes." He said so gracefully. "Yes, it does. I don't take offense. You can wait for your wedding ring because you have me."

(I can't even write this without crying) Hearing him say those words made my heart clench itself once more and this time there was no stopping the tears. That pain! That pain is awful. I hate it. I hate when my heart does that. It makes me want to run, but I'd have no aim. It makes me want to scream, but I'm suffocating. I felt that pain when I sat next to his empty body that night and still feel it when I think about him (and my daughter we lost to SIDS).

When my husband came home from that errand, I couldn't get that ring on my finger fast enough. But as I did that, I took it off again and took a long hard look at it. It was different. A little thinner. Same old silver, but shinier. I looked for the etchings on the inside (engravings from the original jeweler, I assume) that continues to disappear with each sizing/soldering.

It is a little different. But so am I. I put it back on and took another breath.

Wounds do that to us. They change our outlook. They change the way we love. Wounds can make us bitter, or they can soften us. Most times it's a tug of war. And no matter which wins, I always end up getting muddy because life's messy.

Time does not heal all wounds. Time makes it easier to keep going on with life. Time encourages us that things are survivable. But time does not heal. My wounds will remain as long as I remember him. (and her) They remain as long as I remain different. You can't take back the wounds. The only control you have over your wounds is how you choose to love, with all your senses. How you see, hear, feel, taste, and breathe in all the beauty..... and horror.... and what then? You can let your wounds hide you in a corner when you are frightened.... or your wounds can remind you to see and act. Or they can remind you to stop and listen and enjoy.

That's a tug of war at times as well... and you can't win 'em all.

Oh The Thinks We Can Think: Heed, Allow, or Die.

When I was a teenager, there was this really bad snow storm. I was new to the driving world at the ripe age of 16. I had my 14 year old brothers in the car with me too. Everyone who knows me knows that I’m a timid driver. As a public service, I actually stay off the roads when it snows. However, this particular day, I had no choice. School wouldn’t cancel. I drove slowly that morning and got there safely. As the day progressed the storm got worse and schools finally started letting students out early. “Beautiful” I thought, “How caring of them to let us go home during the worst part of the storm!”

There is a main road just outside of the school. The speed limit was 55 but I went as slow as I desired. I couldn’t see all that well either with the wind blowing so hard. The stop light up ahead was shining red with a couple cars in front of me, so I started braking to slow down to a stop.

My car didn’t stop. I think it went faster. Within seconds, my eyes wide, I approached the car in front of me.

I slammed into that SUV with my little Dodge Shadow and the air bag slapped my cold face. I could taste that awful dust that was flying through the air as I tried to regain composure. I wanted to cry, but I looked at my scared brothers to see if they were ok so I tried to stay calm. I think I remember us arguing a little about what just happened.

A teacher jumped out of that SUV. “Oh great!” I thought. “I hit a teacher!”

As she marched over to me, I could see from behind me the cop car from the school security pulling over. Through the rear view mirror, I watched him step out of his car, slam the door shut, and slip on the ice. He held on to his car for support. That actually made me feel better. I wasn’t alone in the turmoils of this storm.

I finally got out of the car, carefully of course. There was still traffic trying to navigate it’s way through the intersection. We all stood on the other side of our cars, away from the road, while I retold my story about what happened. I was in shock as I looked at my car that was clearly totaled. 

Within minutes there was another car that started skidding on the ice towards the stop light. I remember seeing the driver who was this elderly lady with this desperate look on her face. At this point, my hearing went deaf and everything seemed to go in slow motion. I remember watching her try to regain control of her vehicle when a semi-truck started coming in from behind her. You could tell he was trying to slow down, trying not to hit her. As he tried to slow, he started to skid, bringing the back end cargo sliding closer to my car. I stood there. My jaw dropped and I froze. The cargo got closer and closer to me and then finally I realized people are screaming. But I didn’t know what they were screaming. I remained frozen, eyes fixed on the cargo, and my hearing remained muffled with shock. Then out of nowhere, the very teacher I hit with my car, grabbed me from behind and pulled me back several feet, “Get out of the way!” I could finally hear her clearly.

Thankfully, the cargo stopped just a couple feet away from my car. No one got hurt. They all sorted out and drove on. Crazy.

I don’t even remember details right after that. I don’t remember how I got home. I just know I got home with my brothers, safe and sound, my face still red from that airbag. And oh the stories we were telling Mom when we saw her. (this was, of course, before everyone had cell phones)


Have you ever had times in your life, when everything comes to an abrupt stop. It leaves you vulnerable. No one can tell what’s going on in your head. Are you ok? Are you hurt? Can you hear? See? Do you even know your own condition? The dominos could fall just right that could end you. Maybe you can hear the whispers of warning. Maybe not. Maybe then is when another person, another soul, comes and grabs you from behind in haste and pulls you away from danger, shouting your name.

That is humanity at it’s finest.

That is the hand of the Almighty working through the church.

But one of three things will happen in these scenarios:

1. You will heed the whispers and get help for yourself.

2. You will ignore the whispers, but allow the force of a friend (or many) to help you get help. And then you will look back and remember, “oh yeah… there were whispers….”

3. Death. Either physical or mental, but if mentally, the physical is always around the corner.

*If you are reading this and you have witnessed someone go down number 3, as I have witnessed many times, know that it’s not your fault. It is not your failure. You are not and have never been in control of another person. There is hope here still. There is always hope. The hope is they are now resting in His arms. You will always remember them, you will always feel the pain when you think of them, but it makes your force that much stronger.



I’ll have to ask my brothers how we got home that day. Cuz now it’s buggin me.

Tattooing Grace

I haven't been able to go to church in a while. Either because of sickness or because I have another headache, or simply because I don't feel like dragging all the kids out. I love the church we are at. It holds sweet and kind people in it. I don't think I've ever been to a place where there were so many thinkers, artists of all kinds, and introverts in one room! Good night! I love how the sermons are Love driven, giving us things to think about and the kind of church we need to be. The focus is grace in it's truest form.

But as I sit at home, missing out on it, sunday after sunday, small group after small group... I start to disconnect. And that's...... bad for me. Really bad. Insecurities creep in. My introverish behavior worsens and then I ultimately feel defeated. Displaced. Why?

I can only root it back to the pain. A pain that my heart has carried for a few years now about church. Some very specific moments, along with some very general perspectives. I've tried to come up with a million reasons why it got to me so bad and how things are so wrong, and how I need to "let that go". But you know? It's hard. To let go. (oh yes... Let It Go is now running through my head... dang it.) Anywho.

I had yet another set back recently that, as always, brought me to tears about these past hurts and I remember telling my husband this, "Why can't I just heal faster?!"

Have you ever felt such pain that you just want it to finally stop? You want it to leave you be? My guard is up so high right now, but at the same time, I'm so desperate for the fellowship. So desperate to smile at a stranger when we pass one another and make it a real smile. Desperate to know the people that surround me and laugh with them and cry with them. I've barely given them a chance. Such sweet people that have wronged me in no way and still fear remains in my heart, nudging me out the door.

I know the truth. I know we are all human and make mistakes. I know that I can't expect any kind of perfection out of anyone, especially myself, because the mess is what makes the fellowship that much more beautiful. Or as Momastery likes to put it, "brutiful".  

The church (in the global sense) is moving. I can feel it and have felt it for quite some time, but never has it been more evident to me as it is now. So many hurtful doctrines and leadership, creating a growing group of outcasts. The more people I talk to about this very concept, the more that come forward about how they've had a painful experience with church too. And a lot of it, if not all of it, screams legalism. Churches that take their rules and regs too far, to the letter of the law, and then preach about grace. I believe the church is dividing more and more, between legalism and grace (but I'll write about that some other time).

Now I admit I'm not a very graceful person. I'm working on it. But I tell you, with the pain I carry and then when reaching up for some kind of comfort, some kind of reasoning, some kind of answer..... Grace is the name I'm given.

Jesus gave Grace.

But it's not just about giving grace to those who hurt me, but it's also about wearing grace for those that I may hurt in the future if I don't. Giving grace because I know what it feels like to feel outcast. And I must not forget myself, giving myself grace enough to show up. With all my mess.... just show up. 

Finding these people that have been hurt too brings both hope and sadness. Because some have found the gems (churches) where they have found graceful fellowship again and that's a great thing! (Yes, they are out there!) But some... haven't been able to find it yet. Or they don't want to find it. And I have to allow them their process, just as I'm allowed mine.

I know the pain will stop in the end, but I'm not at the end and neither are you. I feel I will quite probably carry this pain with me everywhere I go. Like a scar. But I have my whole life to live and so do you. So what do I do with this pain and this scar?

See it as a "brutiful" tattoo and....

Look at it and Remember.

Remember Grace. 

Remember to give it AND to receive it. 

Because it's one of the most important things you can do for yourself and for others.

Pain forces us to remember where we've been, so then maybe we can find where we need to go from here.

Look for the Silver Lining.

Gettin my nerd on. "I love you." in Gallifreyan. 

So I've been doing the "Betty Homemaker" thing (as my friends like to remind me) and making myself some couch pillow cases. I'm picky and cheap, so combine those two things and you have some DIY projects to get busy on.

Anywho. I had made previous pillow covers which I loved, but they got destroyed by um... chocolate hands and then the washer/dryer.... who knew they would fade and shrink? (Wups... I'm really bad about washing fabric before I use it..... lesson not learned.... ) Oh, and not to mention, typos ON THE PILLOWS that were found by my faithful friends who pointed it out to me. TWO TYPOS! All my hard work! Anywho, so long story short, I'm making new ones. Better ones. More durable ones. And I swear I'll be pleased, so help me!!

These pillow ideas were off of the exhilarating Pinterest. People are writing phrases on pillow cases. Loved it! I kept 3 phrases of the 4 pillows done, but needed a new forth. So where do I go? Oh, the most cherished person in my life's journals... my dad's. (written in before he died)

Oh why oh why did I do that?! That session turned into stealing an hour, hiding from the kids, reading his words. They are like painful rain drops. With each word, with each phrase, the sound was so soothing and yet it stings. I miss him so much. Reading his words from 14 years ago, took me back... 14 years ago. I could just hear his voice. I could see his expressions as he would say them. I could even hear his chuckle as he made himself laugh with his own jokes. (I have so inherited this wonderful gift)

I started crying, bawling in my hands as my body squeezed my heart the way that only grief can do. The rush of all those emotions spun me into a dark place that makes me demand for my father back.

But then there it was.... that phrase.... the phrase I was looking for... "Look for the silver lining." Something so simply put.

The darkness will always be a part of my life, but my focus needs to seek the silver lining. I haven't been doing that lately, but I need to get some kind of grip on myself. My glum outlook is bleeding into everything I do anymore. I struggle to encourage, to see the hope. I struggle to be kind when I open my mouth, giving the person the benefit of the doubt. I struggle for contentment when the storm just won't let up. I'm still finding my way around all of it, "hopeless wanderer" as Marcus Mumford puts it in his song.

Look for the silver lining. That can help me stay focused that there IS even a silver lining. The sun always remains. The rains always soothes. And the pain keeps it's wish that I never forget where I've come from.

So on the pillow case it goes!

 I know... it appears a little lame that I conclude my post with that, but truly. It'll be in my face all day, everyday. This little pillow on my couch will whisper his words...

"Look for the silver lining."

I'll post pics of my finished products! 

Staycation Turns into Staycrashstation... How Spontaneous Are You Feeling Today?

So my little family did a staycation.... meaning = we had no money, we have tons of children, hubby has some vacations days and viola! You have the ever so creative "staycation!" We decided to hit several parks here in Des Moines and picnic at each one. (and the added perk.... we sleep in our own beds... ahhh.... )

At first it was really really fun. The kids were having a blast going to all these places they've never been before (that are only like... 5-15 minutes away from home... I know... sad).  They LOVED the idea of picnicing at the parks. Most of the mornings... er... days... we wouldn't get out of the house till noon, but still, my children insisted on a picnic! Insisted!! So there I was, packing everything up so we could picnic. We even made it to the Capitol. They were in stars. I loved watching their faces light up at the awe of the place. Then later, a couple days in, came the interruptions and the tantrums... everything started caving in on our staycation; people finding us, work emergencies, and eventually my carefree staycation was put to a halt.

A good friend of mine messaged me while I was throwing an adult sized tantrum in the privacy of my own home and simply said, "How spontaneous are you feeling today?" Bless her heart, she had no idea I was throwing my fit, and she knows KNOWS I'm not your spontaneous person. Surprises are usually NOT a good thing. Romance can't even have at it. I'd be nervous the whole time thinking I need to be doing something or that I forgot something. Girls gotta mentally prepare, you know? Anywho.

I was taken back by her simple message. I looked at the hubs who was in a quiet state as I tried to collect myself and told him what the message said. "How spontaneous are you feeling today?" We both laughed about it. It was like... crazy laughter. I mean, how ironic is it that things like this happen when someone pops into your day and accidentally slaps you with a 'grace' stick or a 'get over yourself' stick, or in my case at that point, a 'calm the frick down' stick.

"How spontaneous are you feeling today?"

If fact, her spontaneous message was the spontaneity that I needed. I did inquire further as to what she meant and of course I had to slap her back with a big fat N.O. and she understood, but that phrase was still lingering in my heart. Resentment crept in with anyone that interrupted our little family staycation, even towards my own husband who couldn't help it, even towards our kids that made us feel even guiltier for plans not being carried out. I turned into one hot mess.

So while all that was simmering, we still had time to do one last little picnic. So as I stood at the counter in my kitchen, cutting away at meats and cheeses, my son comes to me and says, "Is there someone to blame?" oh geezz... here we go. (mind you, my husband is still quiet because he knows I'm still simmering)

I replied to my son, "That isn't the point. Life just sucks."
"Life sucks?"
"Yep, life just sucks."
My husband just walked passed us as I said that and gave me a quiet lecture on how I'm responding.
Ok, fine I'll try a little harder... "So things happen in life that suck all the time. Plans get changed, people change their minds, people die, disasters happen. There's nothing we can do about it, they just happen. All we can do is try to spin it for the better. We have to find ways that we can spread love even in the suckiness and then... maybe it won't suck so bad." Ugh.. yes. I know. I'm talking to myself too.

At that moment, my son started helping me without my needing to ask for it. He stopped complaining about the plans that got totally derailed and his countenance lifted. You could tell he was trying. Now it was my turn to mirror that.

"How spontaneous are you feeling today?"

So we tried to make the most of our day, and by that afternoon, I was kissing my husband good-bye. And trying not to kiss our staycation good-bye, we ate junkfood, watched "Honey I Shrunk The Kids" (their first time) and I beat them righteously at the game Othello. Over and over. :) We pulled the couch-bed out and passed out.

And repeat the next day.

And ya know? Even though it didn't turn out the way I wanted it too, there's some really great memories that will be brought up for years to come. Enjoy the pictures below, of just a few of the places we were!

This was an egg shaped structure in Clare and Miles Mill Rose Gardens. It was pretty neat. 

Isaiah working on a painting project. He picked his favorite roses to paint. 

Eve and Tesh are working on their paintings, while baby Ruth finds leaves most interesting. 

How could we NOT do this!!! :D During this moment our 4 yr old was behind us (you can't see her)
throwing a fit. Eve was trying to trying to calm the 2 yr old in the stroller, and the baby is eating more leaves. Our 9 year old took the picture :) 

Ah! All of them. How lovely! I actually got a better picture, I just thought this one was share worthy.
Who wants to look at all the nice ones, right? 

A playground with no plastic playground equipment at Sargent Park. Nature's playground! They loved this one!
Me? lots of hiding places. I told Josh that if we were teens, this would be a good make out spot. Ha! 

The Capitol Building! Isaiah's words, "This is the best day of my life!" 

Ahh... their eyes just sparkled with all sorts of wonder. :) 

Of course we hit up Granny's Sweet Freeze Shoppe to cap it off! 

One big surviving family! 

 How spontaneous are you feeling today?

My progress is my own progress. Can't take that away from me.

You remember last year when I was complaining about how the grass is always greener on the other side? (not just a metaphor, the grass is literally greener on the other side of the fence..... oh that's right... because they have GRASS!)

I didn't even know potato plants had blossoms.

So I've been slaving away at this garden of mine, studying up on what works and what obviously doesn't. I've been learning so much about our yard, the dirt, the trees, the bugs, the poison ivy infested mulch! (how lovely) 

Any time I talk to anyone about gardening, they all start going on about how big everything has gotten in their own gardens. How the garden is being overtaken by certain (edible) plants. OVERTAKEN!!! I look over to the "grass is greener" yard (why do I do this to myself?) and see an even greener pasture. "Oh look.... how cute... they have a garden now too.... " Why don't they just post a neon sign pointing to my yard that says, "Black thumb of death! Come and take a peek! 5 cents! Beware of her temper!" .....  wait... 5 cents? I'm worth more than that?! 

No really, I'm happy for them. They are finally putting that beautiful green yard to good use. 

But I stand at my garden. Having slaved over it. Mostly on my own, because you may also remember my genius husband that thought he could parkour and broke his wrist during spring time when it was time to put the garden together. (he's lucky he's cute) All my work, all my toil and trial, ever so slowly creeping it's green way up, high up to the sky.... or up 6 inches from the ground, but let's not worry about those minute details. The point is, it IS growing. Just not at the rate that everyone-else's gardens are growing. And I need to be ok with that. I need to give myself grace and allow my garden it's process. It's still in toddler stages, but this is farther than I've ever gotten with a garden in my yard!! And for that, I'm proud of myself. Even with all the trials of the bajillion trees in my yard, I'm making things grow. My kids are learning so much watching me toil over this. My son is so perceptive that even he is helping me come up with solutions to various problems. And in fact, their pumpkin vine is a hecka lot bigger than mine! I'm so proud and jealous and proud! They do deserve to win our pumpkin contest.  

My kids' pumpkin vine, 3 times bigger than mine.

My 6 year old daughter wants to read so bad. We've been working on it hard core this summer, but she makes it harder on herself. She doesn't have the best memory, but also, she's so very impatient with herself that she stunts her progress. She gives up feeling frustrated that she can't do it. Or that she's not doing it RIGHT NOW. I can only hope she learns this summer that with hard work, and perseverance, she will learn to read well. But she has to allow herself her process. Everyone goes at a different pace. Some read when they are 4. Others read when they are 10. And that's ok. The end result is still the same. They are reading! 

I need to allow myself the same process. I may not be as fast as everyone else. Or have the knowledge about having a nice green thumb and not the black thumb of death. But... when I keep my eyes focused on my own progress and how far I've come, I look at my thumbs and see a glimmer of a different color appearing. I can stand in my meager garden and see the truth. 

It is growing. 

Very first official harvest from seed I planted in the ground. Yay! Love me some lettuce!

30th Birthday Week. :)

photo credit: Emily Crall Photography

Yep! The BIG 30! I'm actually pretty excited about this birthday and I don't get excited over birthdays....

My reasons for this excitement is pretty sad though, really. People that know me well, and who have walked with me most my life, have told us that we have lived so much life. In fact, I've already started writing a book about it! Ridiculous. However.... people that don't know me as well, or have just met me, they ask my age. I say, "twenty (something)" and they do the head tilt back, sometimes even with the hand pat in the air directed towards me and say, "Oh! You're so young!" (as in ... "oh...you'll learn") I've wanted to punch a many people for treating me this way. They don't even realize how depressing it is to be reminded that, 'Yes... I'm young and I have my whole freaking life of suffering more still ahead of me. Can you just lock me in an insane asylum now?'

You know the famous verse, "Let no one look down on your youthfulness, but rather in speech, conduct, love, faith and purity, show yourself an example of those who believe." (1 Timothy 4:12) This is a great motivator for all young people, but let's be honest here, I don't think old(er) people have as easy of a time heeding to a secondary point here of NOT being the one that's doing the looking down.

But there's something about thirty. Glorious thirty. With thirty (something) I can be taken maybe a little more seriously? I know... I told you it's sad. But I'm over the top, glad with all my heart to be thirty finally. I'm not worried about "getting old" right now. I don't mind my "silver hairs" that have already started taking up residence on my head almost a decade ago. I've always had an old soul.

So my family actually surprised me (first. time. ever.) with a birthday party that we were all assembled for anyway for the 4th of July. How convenient! So I pulled the birthday card in order to make everyone play Squeeze (card game) with me that I'm kickass at (and nobody ever wants to play with me, so this was really a dream come true) and of course.... the queen of the party wins. It was fabulous.

So here's to finally... finally being 30. Not so dirty, not so flirty, but certainly thriving. ... or at least... I hope I can continue thriving as the next chapter of my life unfolds into 5 growing kids and a husband who hopefully has learned his lessons to keep his feet on the ground.

Ha, who am I kidding? Here's to not dying! Cheers!

Yep. Rain makes it perfect. 

Don't Mess with Tesh! : Some news whilst celebrating 4 years post op for her!

It's appropriate to share some news we have today about Tesh. Today marks 4 years since Tesh had her cranial surgery. I can't believe it's been that long, but I can still remember all the fear and relief of it like it was yesterday. I remember how she fell asleep in my arms just before they took her away from me. All the fight for her with her health issues was coming near it's end with this last crucial step. The moment they called to tell me "her surgery went well and they are closing her up", I got off the phone and started uncontrollably crying, gasping for breath to make it stop, but I couldn't. When my family and friends saw this, they thought something was wrong, but really.... it was well. It was SO well.

Oh, Tesh. She's changed our home forever, that's for sure. Out of all 6 children, she's the one that gave me my only c-section. She's the one that has had us in and out of doctors offices (with siblings in tow) and why I sound as smart as I do about certain medical things when I talk to people about these experiences. She has also made our house louder.... And when I say louder, I mean it. Ever since she was a toddler, her screams have always rung in my ears. Screams for justice! Her particular preferences have been overwhelming to me as we try to communicate back and forth as to why she's upset. Her fears and anxieties will be through the roof at times. Her need for control remains, no matter what I do. If there's too much attention on her, whether it be bad or even good, she'll shut down and sometimes cry. There was even a scene where she FINALLY went potty (this was a few months ago) and we were all there to congratulate her. Her parents, grandparents, some aunts and uncles. We all were saying, "Great job, Tesh! What a big girl!" She then proceeded to cry and said, "Your happy makes me sad."  After having had 2 older kids in the house, I knew the way she would react to certain things was a little.... off.  Extreme.

So... all this to say, we had her evaluated yesterday. We waited 5 months for this appointment with the wonderful Dr. Noble here in Des Moines. (and he IS wonderful!) He said she has Sensory Processing Disorder. He said, "Nothing is broken. No wires are crossed. It's a combination of temperament, personality, preferences, anxieties... on steroids!"

I found all this good news because now we can pin-point it, research it, learn what it is, and know better how to help her cope. All this time, I thought I might be crazy for thinking anything was "wrong" with her, (because I know it could be a lot worse) but there IS something and we CAN better help her. There is so much here, so many faucets of information and uniqueness about her, too much to cover on a little blog post. But all I know is that for these last couple years, I've kept my concerns about her to the closer circle of people around us, and it's been something that has been eating away at me and it's finally done. Well..... the pin-pointing part. And now it's not eating away at me because we have some answers.

The real (hard) work now continues with occupational therapy in hopes to help her cope with her processing skills. And with a lot of patience from me and the close people around her. I look forward to reading "The Out-of-Sync Child" by Carol Kranowitz (suggestion by Dr. Noble according to her diagnosis, apparently my child will seem to be on those very pages)

It takes a community to raise a child..... It still takes a community to raise a child that is unique and weird and apparently on steroids. And let's be honest here... most of her unique weirdness comes from the queen herself. (ding :D) And to be further honest, we are both working on our coping mechanisms now.

I love her so much and I have full confidence that she will do well. In fact, the picture below is my proof that she's going to be an awesome fictional writer some day. Yep. She's in an almost constant state of imagination, which makes her seem like a weird random kid, but it fascinates me to watch her. I can only hope I can be a good mom and help unlock this world of hers, from her head... to paper... but for now, she's 4. Baby steps. 

I had no idea where she was or what she was saying... all I know is I wished I could see what she saw. 

Too Many Irons In The Fire

It has been storming and raining for days. Today there was a good sized storm. Flooding and damage is occurring all around. And where am I? 

- sitting on the couch, playing Free Cell (I'm trying to beat my percentage of wins... I'm at 39%), eating snacks, and letting the kids watch TV. Usually Monday involves cleaning the faithful chaos that the weekends ensue, but today I feel like crap and it's raining.... so it's all good. 

I have been so busy (um... that may just mean away from my home) that I've had little time to enjoy all the storms. But today I sit in all it's beautiful gloom and let it wash over me. 

My wonderful Uncle called over the weekend. His timing is impeccable sometimes. He's a counselor so he knows all the right questions to ask and then I become like a fire hydrant. By the end of the conversation, I realized.... 

I've got issues. 

Ok, well.... I knew this, BUT the chronic stress in my life is catching up to me in a way that's changing my outlook on life. I've lost control over the way I deal with stress. I've become overwhelmed way too easily, most times over trivial things. 

Yes, I have 5 kids at home. That's hard. It's so hard. I'm home with them all. the. time. I love having been home with them, but being home with them is a different story. And frankly, they've been getting in the way of what I want or need to do. Yep. I admit it. That's how pitiful I sound about now. I told you, I've got issues. 

But I'm not totally crazy. Every woman in my shoes prays for a moment of peace to sit down to herself, to eat a snack without being attacked with begging, to take a bath, or better yet, go to the bathroom without playing referee.

But still I need to take care of me. My husband kindly pointed out one night of tears that I have too many irons in the fire. He said that this IS just a season and that I can take an iron out for now, but not have to keep it out forever. 

So... that's what I'm doing to help in the "Kailan's got issues" effort. I'm taking some iron's out. For now. So when I'm done with this season of life, I can put those irons back in because there will be room. So now my task is choosing wisely, which irons get to stay in and which ones need to come out? 

My hope in doing this is to bring some life back into me so I can quit feeling worthless because of my exhaustion. So I can make room for the little people that DO matter. So I can make more efficient room for myself.  

Do you have any irons you need to take out for now? 

 

"I will learn to love the skies I'm under." Mumford & Sons

The little people are EVERYWHERE!!! Protect yourself!!

Don't let this angelic picture fool you!! 

Overwhelmed.

I finally feel outnumbered with 5 kids at home. I like a clean house, but... for example, there's little boxes full of baby clothes sitting in the middle of the kids' room that is the youngest's temporary 'dresser' because it's just too much to keep up with the switching of clothes sizes as she rapidly grows. I finally got around to scraping the table off of nail polish from the 4 and 6 year old's practicing for womanhood. I felt like I had a clean house just by doing that. I managed to create a nook for myself and my husband in the porch. I'm proud to say we have enjoyed it, but letting the kids have free reign over house while we're in there may not be the best idea... it's a work in progress. My 2 year old is officially evil, making her demands as she sees fit. And my poor 9 year old (only) son is caught in the middle of it all. At least I have some company whilst we both look at each other and pull our hair out together.

I honestly don't know what I'd do without the supportive husband that I have. He sees the season of all this. He comes home from a stressful job to a crazy house and never seems to despise my need for help even when he's only been home for 42 seconds.

But it's hard. I'm not a little kid person. I know that sounds ironic because I have so many children, but it's true. My need for intellectual conversation is like an unquenchable thirst. My closest friends probably think it's either annoying or endearing as I constantly reach out with emails and messages, just to have some adult conversation, as I'm stuck at home most the time with these little people. I'm just gonna say they find it endearing, so I can keep my self-esteem up. Yeah... we'll go with that.

For some reason, I haven't been writing lately. I can feel it too. It's so therapeutic for me to write, so when I'm not writing, I'm not doing "well." I have so many things that I want to write about, it's overwhelming to know where to start. So I've made a list and am going to go through it, one by one, so you'll have to bear with me. My goal is to be better at consistency. But I know that it's so important to protect my "me time". That "thing" I like to do and find some healing in doing so. It has to be protected. It doesn't just come up and say, "Hey, guess what?! You are going to write today! Here, let me get my screen on and I'll get the chair underneath you so you can sit and write, so you have to do it. I'll even shut facebook off for you!" ..... I wish.

So to all the busy parents out there... protect your time. It's great spending time with your kids, but if you don't protect your retreat, that thing that you've found healing to you, that thing that de-stresses you... than you'll slowly be no good to those you love.

Here's a related, but unrelated picture of my strawberry blossoms this summer. (Related because my garden has also kept me busy, but I've successfully harvested SOMETHING from my garden. Yay. But unrelated because this post is not about strawberries, it's my pitiful excuse as to why I've been quiet lately.)

Swinging with the Pendulum. Time to Modify.

I love having older friends. You know the kind that are just ahead of you in life that they are able to bestow the wisdom they have to you. They know the struggles you are going through because it's likely... so did they, and it's still a fresh memory. You watch them "do life" and start dreaming of the day that THAT will be you.

.... that's where it gets tricky. These friends of ours are gold. But even gold, in all it's beauty and wealth can make you ugly when envy sets in.

I love my babies. I loved having babies. But my mental state is "so over" having babies. I'm so eager to start the next chapter in life. You know... the next chapter that doesn't involve feed, awake, sleep schedules. One that doesn't involve diapers and tip toeing to bed to NOT wake the baby sleeping in her bassinet. Even down to the toddler stage, I'm over it. I'm over the incomprehensible conversations/whining out of the mouth that feels the need to lick everything. The potty training. Oh, the potty training!! Then there's the tantrums and the "No! Don't lick that!" "Don't bite her!" "Touch nicely!" (while I'm pulling my hair out, convinced that I'm screwing this up because I have the worst toddler/s)

Thanks to my 9 year old, I am aware of the heart issues that lie in the next chapter. I'm sure it's going to be a mentally taxing ride of my life dealing with all those 5 hearts that I helped create. But I can't help but look at most of my friends (where their youngest is around 7 or 8) and think.. "Gosh, I can't wait."

We took our little (big) family camping one weekend recently. I said no way, but my husband desperately wanted us to try it. And well... he knows where my "push over" button is. We have 5 kids at home, ranging from 6 months old to 9 years old. Yeah. I know! It. Is. Crazy! And it was! We went. It failed. It was, in my terms, a disaster. But now we now, that even though we love camping, we just need to wait a little bit (with all our little critters) to try camping again. Just as we had packed everything up, after one night of defeat, I cried. Well ok... I do get over emotional when I've had so little sleep, but I wanted something different. I wanted time to just speed the hell up so we could do these things that others could. (I know this is a shallow story, but bear with me) (Oh... and kudos to those that camp all the time with little children and babies. You're awesome. And I'm just not so awesome. And I'm ok with that.)

As I cried my pathetic tears, all these ugly emotions started to drip from me. Trapped with 5 faces staring at me, needing so much from me, and I'm tired. I'm getting so incredibly worn. I have this flame within me that wants to get out so bad; to write, to read, to paint, to go walking on and on, to get involved in various things without worrying about babies to carry around, but that flame needs my time, my energy, things I don't have a lot of right now.

So what do I do?

I modify.

I keep that flame within me, knowing I can sneak it out from time to time, but we have to modify. I have no choice. I can not make time go any faster, and I'm sure years and years down the road when my youngest is moving out, I'll be all like, "Where did my baby go? I want my baby back!"

But we must modify and keep baby proofing things and it'll be fine. I'll be fine. These precious formative years are so important. And I need to embrace all these little hands holding my face to kiss me smack on the lips, even with all their drool.

I'm convinced that time goes at it's pace for it's reasons. And even though my older friends are on to the next chapter, I'm not finished with mine. I've got more pages to write. Their stories are so unique and you know what? My unique story is important too.

It's ok to dream about the next chapter. But I need to pay close attention to the now. Because the now is the ground work for the point that which I call a dream. (counting on some curve balls in there, of course) And I'm sure after all... the next chapter isn't going to be anything like I thought it would be.

And that could be a good thing or a bad thing...

I'm gonna go with the both/and theory there. ;)