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!