Monday, August 29, 2011


how many days since i've even typed in that address, the one that declares i'm a fragile urn.
i've felt barren of words and empty at heart-soul in this place--which is not to say i've been unhappy or shut up, just that i was living life there instead of here and the longer i played away the larger the white empty space here filled up, began to feel impenetrable.

the years i turned with birthday just passed, an official forray into third decade, and i didn't feel older at first despite the silver threads that glitter my crown. but somehow, in just 2 weeks, i feel old and shy. i got to spend my birthday with my two womb-mates, beloved sisters, and that alone was magic.

owen's days can be counted in months now, not weeks, and i know i will cry when it's years instead of months, for he is truly last, husband's appointment completed, and this one my baby, so big-small and squishy-round, and mama-loved.

we are planning a shower for another friend expecting first, so she came over to discuss details, but with our babes born days apart, her first, mine fourth, we talked of sizes and sleep schedules and motherhood and callings. she aches to write and i felt a pang of jealousy. i told her i'd never known a calling like motherhood (which is not to say i always knew i wanted to be a mom!), and i wondered if she were a bit jealous of that as well. all that talk of calling and passion stirred me. i drove and saw green leafy summer again. i played song in the car and cried at lyrics. i read a blog post that kindles art out of me, and i begin to hope that words might be here again. it's not so much that i have to write or else--that is how she feels--but i realize i must create and be inside of beauty. i grew four boys beyond compare. i knit and bake for fun because i love to give to others something my hands formed. i cry at art and song and read words from others and sometimes spill out here, too.
and if i'm presumptuous enough to ask if you've missed me, know that i've missed you, too, desperately.
with another year older and baby growing big, and boo-boos to kiss and homeschool to start, i can't promise that i'll be incredibly regular, but i want to write again. patience as i find my groove again?

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Sabbath calling

i just wanted today to look differently than yesterday, i said as we argued through those leaps and bounds from the original 'complaint.' i wanted lunch to be with four hands, owen held and diapers changed and to feel teamwork once again. tears trickle out their frustration, and i secretly beg him to understand. can a saturday feel like a break for a mama at home all week? she whose job sleeps in her arms at night, suckling through the waning darkness, whose little bosses require multi-tasking and imagination all at the same time? and i know he knows, for he works Out There and comes home to wife all rumpled, cross-legged on couch in pj's, and he swoops in to hold babies and be jungle gym and freely offers bottle and ordered pizza. but our saturdays have rolled in like mondays, just a day older for baby and another one with split shifts and 4 boys all-at-once.

we hug tightly, kiss deeply, our fears and frustrations all mixing with oxygen and apologies, and somehow we know to just keep trying, know that things will even out, and we're going to be okay.

later, scrubbing dishes, white bubbles serving tenure to swish, swish, rinse, i hear His voice: will tomorrow look differently than today?
all my sundays have looked like mondays and wednesdays, and how would anyone ever know there was a sabbath if only watching me? i have not worshipped in a house, have not put down my work to rest, have hardly let prayers leave my lips nor raised hands in silent desperation. oh, i'm saved, a wrecked soul redeemed, but how could sabbath be different for this child?

i still didn't go to church today. there are a million excuses, always. and yes, i know my work of love and home-tending do much to honor Him, yet, i have been alone for a long time. i am reminded of the need for sisters and brothers with fellowship-skin, touch that heals and gives, space to worship out loud and to hear truth. this is a hard season of all kinds of limbos, the will-he-need-to-nurse, the war of anxious child in nursery, the task of getting out-of-doors in one piece let alone with matching socks.....

dishes are done. day is almost done. owen is bouncing. shea and connor are not-sleeping. avery is dreaming by now. and i... i am praying in repentence for forsaking the body so long and grateful that there will be Sabbath.