tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322605592024-03-07T18:07:47.979-08:00Learning"Thinking of Jesus, I suddenly realize I know nothing."
Malcolm MuggeridgeAprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.comBlogger395125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-23628403324202511192012-02-09T16:04:00.001-08:002012-02-09T16:07:30.368-08:00A new blogIt's time.<br /><br />Since I began blogging 5 years ago so much has changed in my life...<br />and this blog<br />just doesn't seem the place to, well,<br />blog anymore.<br /><br />My new blog is called <a href="http://aprilispas.blogspot.com/">Planting Trees</a>. And if you click them there words, you'll find it.<br /><br />Hope you come over...<br />I'd love to have you.<br /><br />much love,<br />AprilAprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-33370922224917375042011-08-04T20:41:00.000-07:002011-08-04T20:48:40.821-07:00Peace<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtTZXyqbMWJgYUJRCmw-Po8negiv3KzckCNQCTfWieStt7OrN78OCabY0wiwpQwsl73DksZFMkQQNKkIEXTvHG1eOc4hZe-zLYV5l16PTVpGzvBJqHg5ATLUZd-MOXjETY9YToMg/s1600/peacehttpillbeasunbeam.tumblr.compage2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtTZXyqbMWJgYUJRCmw-Po8negiv3KzckCNQCTfWieStt7OrN78OCabY0wiwpQwsl73DksZFMkQQNKkIEXTvHG1eOc4hZe-zLYV5l16PTVpGzvBJqHg5ATLUZd-MOXjETY9YToMg/s400/peacehttpillbeasunbeam.tumblr.compage2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637212231690771586" /></a><br /><br />Each night, as I'm laying my daughter down in her bed, I speak these words over her:<br /><br />May the Lord bless you and keep you,<br />May He make His face to shine upon you,<br />and give you peace.<br /><br />Her second name, middle name, Irina, means: Peace.<br /><br />And so, mercy bleeds into peace. The kind that means something, the one that echoes: don't fear! don't fear!<br />I am closer than the air you breathe...<br />and over you, I breathe<br />peace.<br /><br />**Image found on Pinterest via illbeasunbeam@tumblr.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-78199179669131849812011-08-03T20:42:00.000-07:002011-08-03T21:25:44.455-07:00My Prayer<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_cI5kIPDBc188DFCBNLmoP83yXB0asHVKUmPooIY4rZtAVDFYpyl_12UPlTOpiRL9wfM3iwO1eRhpfNauWVNomfeNn_ZWCPBb5s4pyG7maUzuk41wErYITgIaqW4kPIL2l1d/s1600-h/IMG_1800_0653.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_cI5kIPDBc188DFCBNLmoP83yXB0asHVKUmPooIY4rZtAVDFYpyl_12UPlTOpiRL9wfM3iwO1eRhpfNauWVNomfeNn_ZWCPBb5s4pyG7maUzuk41wErYITgIaqW4kPIL2l1d/s320/IMG_1800_0653.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198738339444517442" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Have mercy,<br />I pray with the rhythm<br />of a rosary~<br />each bead <br />the rock of my chair<br />as I nurse my child.<br />Have mercy.</span><br /><br /><br />Linking up again this Thursday with Imperfect Prose...<br /><center><a href="http://canvaschild.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-z1WSh8vHJfS6u2_VjGlA1pBR4oBfXE6EW4_8Ja0G6MR4kPGAAKxC9bbuVxtBBYEzdfIPnk2_YHjlBlqDApVCEGDDXo31ApTl5u3ziE8OGUmVyDXLWug710WL4O7pwwvh_Nc/s1600/blog+button.jpg" /></a></center>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-1256704038604769302011-07-31T12:24:00.000-07:002011-08-01T16:51:18.123-07:00The Mercy of Sight<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgET1ckGHQq6ZEWRGGP4scOPJFqkC9FlCTHwY_9tENbj5HCK-g3UyeXgu8MVeChOTJr2RQR_xp-UWIY_-zhyphenhyphen_q3UazAcznnwz2Rj-9Shc51n4krmr8IltsdIL0XmgGN-5wqdKfiIQ/s1600/little+is+neededhttpwww.etsy.comlisting71605280happy-life.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgET1ckGHQq6ZEWRGGP4scOPJFqkC9FlCTHwY_9tENbj5HCK-g3UyeXgu8MVeChOTJr2RQR_xp-UWIY_-zhyphenhyphen_q3UazAcznnwz2Rj-9Shc51n4krmr8IltsdIL0XmgGN-5wqdKfiIQ/s400/little+is+neededhttpwww.etsy.comlisting71605280happy-life.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635603055288752514" /></a><br />Over 6 years ago I returned from a 4 month journey to Kolkata, India. It was a life-changing trip, to say the least.<br /><br />I didn't have a digital camera back then, so no photos to go with this post...but what I did have with me was a heart that was expanding with the possibilities of mercy. I find that I'm still carrying that heart with me.<br /><br />Here's a story from those days:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">And there was this baby. her hair was light with malnutrition and she slept in her older sister's arms. I touched her face and it felt warm even to my hot hands. She wouldn't wake and her sister begged for money. I wanted to grab that child and run- the longing of it, the pain of it piercing so deeply that I was brought to tears.<br /><br />The next day we visited St. Thomas' Mount in Chennai (the place where Thomas of the New Testament supposedly died). A man was begging at the top of these steep steps. He said: have mercy on me. I smiled and said: maybe later.<br /><br />I shivered in the India heat at my words: maybe later I would have mercy on him when I myself have been shown mercy before, after, and during this little life I've lived. The pain of his plea for mercy wrapped itself tightly around my heart and squeezed- not so that I would show him mercy, but because my very life depended on it as much as his own did.<br /><br />The day afer I met this man, I read in Luke 18 where a blind man calls to Jesus: Son of David! Have mercy on me! He asks this even after he has been silenced by the crowds. Jesus turns to him and asks what he wants. He says: I want to see.<br /><br />I find myself sitting on a street, in rags, unable to see. And I call to a Humble King: have mercy on me! I want to see again! I want the sight to know what matters. I want to know how to see so that I can truly love others. Give me vision so that I can see You.<br /><br />Who wouldn't want to see such goodness as belongs to Him?<br />Who wouldn't be willing to give what is in both hands if it meant seeing Him more clearly? I pray for mercy that I might be such a woman.</span><br /><br />And we are still caught in this place of waiting, asking for mercy. <br /><br />Doamne ajuta.<br /><br />Finding that while we sit and wait, we learn to see. While we lean on the cane of our insecurities and inability to trust, we find what keeps us from hope. And peace.<br /><br />This is a mercy. To see what keeps us from sight.<br /><br />Image taken from Pinterest, but orignally comes from: www.etsy.comlisting71605280happy-lifeAprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-68509017679449002962011-07-20T09:40:00.000-07:002011-07-20T09:50:51.594-07:00Mercies in Disguise<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgenOXNxCr1DgKyNWPs5X7_ZxpLYwX3YR1tWduNY-7FbPhJXLKNXZem27ANEwdeRc45rhbSJjCpSaDQjVcihlizU_FNI3CO_0eiiNalute-W4hOWbH-GOlQkaza9CP-sK_fIZpx8Q/s1600/blessings.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgenOXNxCr1DgKyNWPs5X7_ZxpLYwX3YR1tWduNY-7FbPhJXLKNXZem27ANEwdeRc45rhbSJjCpSaDQjVcihlizU_FNI3CO_0eiiNalute-W4hOWbH-GOlQkaza9CP-sK_fIZpx8Q/s400/blessings.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631475847274491506" /></a><br />Have you heard <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Blessings/dp/B004UE3784/ref=dm_att_trk1">THIS</a> song by Laura Story?<br /><br />Right now, I think it's our theme song.<br /><br />And the other day I thought: I've been praying that He would have mercy on us.<br /><br />What if <span style="font-weight:bold;">this</span> <span style="font-style:italic;">is</span> His mercy?<br /><br />What is <span style="font-weight:bold;">this?</span><br />the waiting...the quiet...the dreaming...the longing...the hoping...<br /><br />I have to believe it is.<br /><br />**the print came from <a href="http://517creations.blogspot.com/2011/07/blessings-printable.html">517 Creations</a>. Click to get the free printable!Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-40332940217639395872011-07-15T09:40:00.000-07:002011-07-15T09:49:10.673-07:00The Return of: Things my Husband says that make me LaughThe other day Bela said to me: I don't make you laugh like I used to. You don't write about it anymore.<br /><br />I corrected him and said: That's not true, I just don't write them down anymore so I forget and then, well, they don't make the blog.<br /><br />I mean, <span style="font-style:italic;">look at this picture</span>!!! How can I not laugh at that face? Every time I need a laugh, I just think about this photo and I chuckle...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQXLc6pdVp5CZm3mXLfMjjdOQk_NtcdndFk4OeWgsiKxiuJqcwzakdfr7zdtBUbKLNZwBYPPqzys4CviMGuQaQoYEIaGLMHoer_NZRxag3tlU1Lq4LNlzWUdMj23OV94ndWmOSg/s1600/IMG_2086.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQXLc6pdVp5CZm3mXLfMjjdOQk_NtcdndFk4OeWgsiKxiuJqcwzakdfr7zdtBUbKLNZwBYPPqzys4CviMGuQaQoYEIaGLMHoer_NZRxag3tlU1Lq4LNlzWUdMj23OV94ndWmOSg/s400/IMG_2086.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629621529883142642" /></a><br /><br />And then, there was the other day when we had this conversation.<br /><br />Let me set it up for you.<br /><br />We were getting into the car. The hot car. On a hot day. I was driving and Bela said: Can you PLEASE turn up the air conditioning?<br /><br />I said: Yes, but why didn't you wear shorts? It's so hot out!!!<br /><br />He said: My legs aren't hot, my head is! <br /><br />HAHAHAHAH!!!<br /><br />Truth is, and I'm sure you know this well, that when you're stuck in a place like we are, even the little things that make one laugh are a mercy.<br /><br />Especially that photo.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-42985801663964664102011-07-13T09:52:00.000-07:002011-07-13T19:53:23.735-07:00Mercies new...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjodD2eS5BVitbhADN7f-mPYS6wAgKEqn8zzP7NzN4kbeDP6W54NMer0MvrKawsQWKmMP2WtMZ7mZfb1-fJE0aQj2pKhzjn3P4nc6SFRLM_EE5WYFeBBsu4xCXztWyhbBHS5FM7tQ/s1600/photo+%25283%2529.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjodD2eS5BVitbhADN7f-mPYS6wAgKEqn8zzP7NzN4kbeDP6W54NMer0MvrKawsQWKmMP2WtMZ7mZfb1-fJE0aQj2pKhzjn3P4nc6SFRLM_EE5WYFeBBsu4xCXztWyhbBHS5FM7tQ/s400/photo+%25283%2529.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628893682214673282" /></a><br />I love this photo of my little niece feeding my little girl.<br /><br />The way they are looking at each other.<br /><br />The tiny hand, unaccustomed to holding a bottle, and yet successfully giving what is needed.<br /><br />Baby, trusting and believing that this other little one will care for her...will see the feeding through until the end.<br /><br />Beauty exists here.<br /><br />And love.<br /><br />Even in those so little.<br /><br />I feel like that tiny one, looking to my God, trusting and believing that He will care for us...will see this through until the end.<br /><br />Because His mercies are new each day.<br /><br />Beauty exists here.<br /><br />And love.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-8212165216295815932011-07-12T21:38:00.000-07:002011-07-12T23:10:34.650-07:00It wasn't really about gardening (the last post, I mean)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_dXey4Uomk_q5pe_ChmAA9Vd87WaCjKGvF-K4IC6yrIA0El5YLsq_-DdbOnw0umXJaOJ_WXzD8nR_ujU0u55_Ngc69kKI1J1dv9wTcHqqKrJyUdkxCl48LH_U3hyphenhyphenDntl-97xonw/s1600/IMG_1742_0621.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_dXey4Uomk_q5pe_ChmAA9Vd87WaCjKGvF-K4IC6yrIA0El5YLsq_-DdbOnw0umXJaOJ_WXzD8nR_ujU0u55_Ngc69kKI1J1dv9wTcHqqKrJyUdkxCl48LH_U3hyphenhyphenDntl-97xonw/s400/IMG_1742_0621.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628715241537564946" /></a><br />My last post wasn't really about gardening, so I hope the title didn't scare anyone away.<br /><br />What I was really trying to write about, find my way to, was mercy.<br /><br />And here I am again, learning mercy.<br /><br />A primary definition of mercy is to show <span style="font-weight:bold;">compassion</span> or leniency.<br />It's also a <span style="font-weight:bold;">blessing as a divine favor</span>.<br />Or compassion shown <span style="font-weight:bold;">to those in distress</span>.<br /><br />Augustine said that mercy is: "<span style="font-weight:bold;">ever ancient, ever new</span>."<br /><br />And the Bible's authors back up these understandings of mercy:<br /><br />Psalm 40:11: <span style="font-style:italic;">LORD, don't hold back your tender mercies from me. Let your unfailing love and faithfulness always protect me.</span><br /><br />Lamentations 3:22&23: <span style="font-style:italic;">The faithful love of the LORD never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.</span><br /><br />We can't find work.<br />We being, primarily, my husband.<br /><br />In this economy, that isn't a surprise. <br />But such understanding doesn't make the burden any lighter.<br />Or the toll it takes on one's spirit or self worth easier.<br /><br />We knew, when we decided to move to the states from Romania, that this would not be an easy road to walk.<br /><br />But, we had walked difficult roads before.<br /><br />And, having worked among our friends who were poor, we thought we understood mercy.<br /><br />I'm not sure we knew, though, how much we would need it.<br /><br />I was talking to a friend the other day and she said that she'd been talking to her husband about this sort of a slump they found themselves in...just a general malaise that they were feeling.<br /><br />She said she thought a lot of it had to do with the struggle just to make ends meet and that we, our generation, didn't really know what that meant until now.<br /><br />And that can be depressing.<br /><br />Feeling the noose of no extra money is a tight place to be.<br /><br />It made me think of the 'extras' that we do have...maybe even tiny pieces of <span style="font-weight:bold;">mercy, benevolence, compassion</span> that make what can be bought with money worthless.<br /><br />I'm not saying that I wouldn't love a job. I'm not even saying that it wouldn't be nice to have our own place or buy a second car or a new outfit.<br /><br />I'm just realizing that true mercies are what truly make life worth living.<br /><br />Today, these are my mercies as I see them:<br /><br />~a cool evening breeze in summmer.<br />~dreaming<br />~mountains still standing tall and glorious.<br />~groves of orange trees<br />~my husband's hand<br />~my baby's sigh<br />~my sister's call<br />~dinner with friends<br />~remembering: He is closer than the air I breathe.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">My next several posts will be about mercy and peace in the midst of so much living.</span>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-7306120267259450272011-07-11T20:55:00.000-07:002011-07-12T23:11:08.285-07:00Gardening continuedSeveral weeks ago I posted about the garden we were beginning by planting tiny starts. If you missed that post, click <a href="http://aprilfolkertsma.blogspot.com/2011/05/random-updates-of-not-so-random-and.html">HERE</a><br /><br />It is with deep regret that I now post the failure of our garden.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhXJbPOUhrMKA8Aq2x8nDF018CbCEmnmEU9gTw2hkVtG_1hNfj7SS7BDyYuvFxt8qgrs9szkfieYoTwJghh-EEoFclmpcLQDYu-FxrQDTKyAcE1ubIjyOJ5xhxhHg2DB7zcIQm4A/s1600/IMG_2585.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhXJbPOUhrMKA8Aq2x8nDF018CbCEmnmEU9gTw2hkVtG_1hNfj7SS7BDyYuvFxt8qgrs9szkfieYoTwJghh-EEoFclmpcLQDYu-FxrQDTKyAcE1ubIjyOJ5xhxhHg2DB7zcIQm4A/s400/IMG_2585.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628314533079235986" /></a><br /><br /><br />In fact, it is not only a failure, but a graveyard.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVXD7979STwO1Qz8GLnFf-Yja8GyRHPQPrd0Nb_qZcLt_FrkYVOKVXUxMG4Q54tvzMriGRzU8frpzFFNFx1OTrQ_HUjV-lSWKEYRCmveRgpPDiTBLy4JW4jjgym5ehHtwnOpdwRg/s1600/IMG_2581.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVXD7979STwO1Qz8GLnFf-Yja8GyRHPQPrd0Nb_qZcLt_FrkYVOKVXUxMG4Q54tvzMriGRzU8frpzFFNFx1OTrQ_HUjV-lSWKEYRCmveRgpPDiTBLy4JW4jjgym5ehHtwnOpdwRg/s400/IMG_2581.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628314515092304290" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />I have to say, that those little pots full of nothing feel a little like our lives right now.<br /><br />That isn't to say that we haven't been incredibly blessed. Every day we look into the face of our baby girl and are reminded of what JOY is.<br /><br />But look at this photo:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_Xuq1DBFvB5QIc-7DCQSEMsbYXNh2zVeufpOPtCLLkvIpKqn16fJEewVtfTdigoLrFrICjEmqBi5ITY0ANdQxlUZkuz2e3hpJLXM1_RdvksD96EfzEWrFEW_i83Cub5zVwXMoQ/s1600/IMG_2584.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_Xuq1DBFvB5QIc-7DCQSEMsbYXNh2zVeufpOPtCLLkvIpKqn16fJEewVtfTdigoLrFrICjEmqBi5ITY0ANdQxlUZkuz2e3hpJLXM1_RdvksD96EfzEWrFEW_i83Cub5zVwXMoQ/s400/IMG_2584.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628314522676097490" /></a><br />Once upon a time tomato plant grew here. One morning, Bela went out to water it. That afternoon, it was completely gone. Nothing left but the little stand that was holding it high.<br /><br />A gopher ripped it (if one can rip from beneath something)completely gone. As if it had never existed.<br /><br /><br />And I had to say: this too, God? <br /><br />We can't keep even one measly tomato plant?<br /><br />What is one supposed to do when seeds are planted in faith, watered in love, anticipated with joy...and then,<br /><br />a graveyard.<br /><br />What is hope supposed to do?<br /><br />With all the hope that is in me, right now, I'm begging for mercy.<br /><br />Because a couple of those little seeds did make it. Tenacious, they clung to life in the California heat.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZ1VjHwKNqatYa1Fg5IvvgLOa_SunOhKmnk4kRrAQmNpXurjcTZuPI5XKSSsItWorXwRpuaX1dQqX3xRiq3YsiIIdvc-mYcbtzMN3ScbQAkYQQcORwrX6Jma_5GaiZWfvzmEvgw/s1600/IMG_2582.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZ1VjHwKNqatYa1Fg5IvvgLOa_SunOhKmnk4kRrAQmNpXurjcTZuPI5XKSSsItWorXwRpuaX1dQqX3xRiq3YsiIIdvc-mYcbtzMN3ScbQAkYQQcORwrX6Jma_5GaiZWfvzmEvgw/s400/IMG_2582.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628314522176728738" /></a><br /><br />And one tomato plant hasn't disappeared. It's even bearing fruit.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Qu18edaZLbuQwU6xfGuCr0Pp5VUbO-WFRVTebY_0OKHIXkn6PzKJSuvkPpNMJYiMhQapmDIT44deP_sAt49wbXLeNsn2GpaB-kTN_W2_GPhlm-PvLNq_LLCRXOxyD1H_dgxyHQ/s1600/IMG_2583.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Qu18edaZLbuQwU6xfGuCr0Pp5VUbO-WFRVTebY_0OKHIXkn6PzKJSuvkPpNMJYiMhQapmDIT44deP_sAt49wbXLeNsn2GpaB-kTN_W2_GPhlm-PvLNq_LLCRXOxyD1H_dgxyHQ/s400/IMG_2583.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628314526403449858" /></a><br /><br />Mercy. <br /><br />It seems that it's what hangs on when hope hasn't disappeared.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-29344604449311375712011-06-27T11:06:00.000-07:002011-06-27T11:48:06.501-07:00U2 or With or Without You, Ron RappAlmost a week ago Bela and I went to see U2 (the 360 tour)with John and JoAnna (my sister and her hubby).<br /><br />First, I want to say that the first U2 concert I ever attended was due to the fact that JoAnna didn't give up trying to get tickets. I was a sophomore in high school (1988, Joshua Tree tour) and JoAnna was in 8th grade. My parents said we could go to the concert but we weren't allowed to stay out all night waiting in line for tickets. So, the moment Ticketmaster opened on that Saturday morning I was on the phone...listening to a busy signal. For hours.<br /><br />Until I finally gave up.<br /><br />And then Jo, the scrawny red-headed, freckle-faced, 8th grader she was, picked up the phone and dialed...quickly then yelling: I got through!<br /><br />We bought our tickets and went that November 17. Sat in the nosebleed at the Collesium, was first introduced to the scent of Mary-Jane, and cried when Larry came on the big screen. It was the thrill of our short lives.<br /><br />So going with Jo again, this her second U2concert, was great.<br /><br />And Bela's first.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRXjDbS1wLMx14djVZ6jsz0QiPGhcAMdZ605PKUqg0d-CR7FbHl8iKZwkGJ0hpC4BUsKBEG_RCjDFOBCce8szQdK_JfctLphDgXZ2aJ5dV0roQTNOSEDY0mTWKb1mWOoIfHB9gGw/s1600/138-3819_IMG.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRXjDbS1wLMx14djVZ6jsz0QiPGhcAMdZ605PKUqg0d-CR7FbHl8iKZwkGJ0hpC4BUsKBEG_RCjDFOBCce8szQdK_JfctLphDgXZ2aJ5dV0roQTNOSEDY0mTWKb1mWOoIfHB9gGw/s400/138-3819_IMG.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622965909472486050" /></a><br /><br /><br />It wasn't the greatest time I've seen them...I mean, it was quite a show and the stage was amazing. But I think my favorite time seeing them EVER was in Vancouver, BC about 10 years ago. Here's the play list from that show:<a href="http://www.u2gigs.com/show1081.html"> Elevation Tour</a><br /><br />It was worship that night.<br /><br />Still, a couple things will always stand out about this concert for me, and they are these:<br /><br />Being held by Bela through most the concert because it was kindof cold...and it was close to our second anniversary. And we love each other.<br /><br />Bela saying he couldn't believe he was there. And just sharing that experience together.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuFUO8sSk67LYOWCRV9oSzBTg0BJo_KBzTzuxTIKfcEvgsr33IsbOQ2QT_6T196PdpRV0Vgo4dst_O7-eLOYaYaYjGGnJKPGZaRa-vnQge2dW7Jm7Ung8w2IWSkx1PVJJ2ZGmKw/s1600/138-3807_IMG.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuFUO8sSk67LYOWCRV9oSzBTg0BJo_KBzTzuxTIKfcEvgsr33IsbOQ2QT_6T196PdpRV0Vgo4dst_O7-eLOYaYaYjGGnJKPGZaRa-vnQge2dW7Jm7Ung8w2IWSkx1PVJJ2ZGmKw/s400/138-3807_IMG.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622965902105400098" /></a><br /><br />Watching Jo dance by herself since our seats weren't together, but then when no one came to sit next to us, Jo and John moved down to us. And then we danced and sang together.<br /><br />Having this conversation with a slighty tippy Irish woman in the bathroom:<br /><br />Her: I'm sitting behind you and, have you heard of Adele?<br />Me: Yes.<br />Her: Well, you look like her.<br />Me: Can't say that I'd know what she looks like.<br />Her: Well, I saw you and thought: she's Irish.<br />Me: I'm not.<br />Her: Well, I am.<br />The End<br /><br />But this topped it all:<br /><br />We arrived early to the venue (Angel Stadium) and so had time to walk around. On one particular stroll, we rounded a corner and saw: Ron Rapp.<br /><br />Ron is an old friend of our parent's. He used to come to our house every Sunday evening. We've known him a long time...just haven't seen him in awhile.<br /><br />So, he came into my line of vision and I called: Ron Rapp!<br /><br />And JoAnna called: With or Without You, Ron Rapp!<br /><br />And Ron Rapp said: yep.<br /><br />And we were smiling and standing around him, nodding our heads and he said: And you are?<br /><br />He didn't recognize us.<br /><br />So we told him who we were and all laughed and then ran into him a couple more times. The pictures of the concert are actually from him.<br /><br />But hours and days later, Jo and I were laughing over this encounter...and especially her yelling: With or Without You, Ron Rapp!<br /><br />I'm laughing as I write it right now.<br /><br />So that's U2 for me.<br /><br />Except this.<br /><br />I really missed my baby.<br /><br />And I realized how much life has changed for me since I last saw U2.<br /><br />I still love them. A Lot.<br /><br />They're still my band. Maybe even THE band for me.<br /><br />Just cuz of history and stuff.<br /><br />But that baby of mine...<br /><br />She's got my heart and my mind like almost nothing ever before.<br /><br />I sat at the concert and thought: I'm Sophie's mom.<br /><br />And just the thought brought such beauty to me.<br /><br />So, With or Without U2,<br /><br />She's the baby for me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3yynB4VWUsfMYbDKcpz2tDHHPA7De9AtIjOCBf_6qf5w5_lf1kfdL3yNdqbo0we8lEBtt7YRKte7b5tCgHfvjxqdq0UAm1Ah1qUOsD8JdTTjJcB-skD7-aTJ_PJGeZCWG411Hrw/s1600/Sophie-4-3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3yynB4VWUsfMYbDKcpz2tDHHPA7De9AtIjOCBf_6qf5w5_lf1kfdL3yNdqbo0we8lEBtt7YRKte7b5tCgHfvjxqdq0UAm1Ah1qUOsD8JdTTjJcB-skD7-aTJ_PJGeZCWG411Hrw/s400/Sophie-4-3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622972202883664514" /></a><br /><br />He's the guy for me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaDT7Rue7IUSQQqK3rFeCAv5NOWb5zpiwILeC2fLMBFCivWcD33M_LrCx9uem8WoQZbqgMJ4z8ILO17E5ci0Me3XBLbsVa517g49gvr-YDmhLr7NeBTf_kqlLgb5ACyY1fR8wFFg/s1600/IMG_2087.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaDT7Rue7IUSQQqK3rFeCAv5NOWb5zpiwILeC2fLMBFCivWcD33M_LrCx9uem8WoQZbqgMJ4z8ILO17E5ci0Me3XBLbsVa517g49gvr-YDmhLr7NeBTf_kqlLgb5ACyY1fR8wFFg/s400/IMG_2087.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622972194063877362" /></a><br /><br />And she's the U2 going, with or without you Ron Rapp, sister for me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhndLNpD3Jv2ePyc4Mm4f5ITTTG1rlWMey2o13KL1_6rJwrxj0ugNQ3F9z5erMHIL7ynPgmx2H7GfjKeOrqprhniMyeucTJxScdSAnHzeT0p73R_SiTeCfTs5bB2StLqLHn5DLhcQ/s1600/IMG_2085.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhndLNpD3Jv2ePyc4Mm4f5ITTTG1rlWMey2o13KL1_6rJwrxj0ugNQ3F9z5erMHIL7ynPgmx2H7GfjKeOrqprhniMyeucTJxScdSAnHzeT0p73R_SiTeCfTs5bB2StLqLHn5DLhcQ/s400/IMG_2085.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622972192710385730" /></a>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-85257555256238783952011-06-22T22:02:00.001-07:002011-06-22T22:30:42.807-07:00Our Second Wedding Anniversary: worship<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh588n6WHvx4KJCOKfRmg3k4xT4Q0133hgj3059sZHks14g73tbaCiPmapsp6aj3hmV6OLHGED4tGhOhk6aOsJuuRnI0WtYqdwfcrFVXAGCdkbAh9Cq53VVw89WhPpJMgeEi0U0-A/s1600/2nd+Anniversary-3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh588n6WHvx4KJCOKfRmg3k4xT4Q0133hgj3059sZHks14g73tbaCiPmapsp6aj3hmV6OLHGED4tGhOhk6aOsJuuRnI0WtYqdwfcrFVXAGCdkbAh9Cq53VVw89WhPpJMgeEi0U0-A/s400/2nd+Anniversary-3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621281906644621426" /></a><br /><br /><br />At the end of a day<br /><br />Spent fixing a broken car in 100 degree heat,<br /><br />After hearing that yet another job wasn't going to happen,<br /><br />And cleaning numerous dirty diapers, from one little girl.<br /><br />Therefore, ordering cloth diapers because, well, diapers are expensive.<br /><br />Then spending a few dollars at our favorite store: What a Bargain!<br /><br />and sipping coffee from a 'new to us' place,<br /><br />We showered, and combed, and clothed.<br /><br />And while I wasn't able to paint my toes as I would have wished<br /><br />I did shave my legs,<br /><br />and fed my baby,<br /><br />and climbed into a car with my love<br /><br />to drive to Taco Tuesday and eat our share of $1.50 <br /><br />pork, chicken and beef encased in tortillas.<br /><br />For dessert, frozen yogurt<br /><br />and a walk<br /><br />and a talk<br /><br />about our year.<br /><br />Naming the amazing amount of hard things<br /><br />Praising the incredible amount of good things<br /><br />and figuring out what we want to do better,<br /><br />who we want to BE better.<br /><br />And at the end I knew<br /><br />that chipped toe-nail polish<br />broken cars<br />employment dead-ends<br />and dirty diapers<br />can only culminate in joy<br />when you join hands with another<br />and say: we are grateful.<br /><br />These are our lives of worship.<br /><br />Linking up again this Thursday with Imperfect Prose...<br /><center><a href="http://canvaschild.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-z1WSh8vHJfS6u2_VjGlA1pBR4oBfXE6EW4_8Ja0G6MR4kPGAAKxC9bbuVxtBBYEzdfIPnk2_YHjlBlqDApVCEGDDXo31ApTl5u3ziE8OGUmVyDXLWug710WL4O7pwwvh_Nc/s1600/blog+button.jpg" /></a></center><br /><br />**Sophie at 3 months, taken on our second wedding anniversary.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-37622604323721663682011-06-13T08:38:00.000-07:002011-06-13T09:13:40.777-07:00A Dedication<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdu44ZhOQUuPqjTOZZri82I49dGjoUNP1ujSwiWwZQ-83uTFIqBDrAj6MqN2jujHsMuIBaY7A85mrvQdBLbTiiHfmhM8ohPkt0NeMeyLzAVhGDqZlu9ev530tcUHJPbJwFFiOBzQ/s1600/Sophie-6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdu44ZhOQUuPqjTOZZri82I49dGjoUNP1ujSwiWwZQ-83uTFIqBDrAj6MqN2jujHsMuIBaY7A85mrvQdBLbTiiHfmhM8ohPkt0NeMeyLzAVhGDqZlu9ev530tcUHJPbJwFFiOBzQ/s400/Sophie-6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617734110504021234" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig3G6hl4yjfFUfwyEgmG9cP1id1zWQYjAT3JDi451BqensmQt43UX8VIAq1ieJYFFyaVxVNy9HOpVqw28h8SbuxBrSyOkASmvVqNgwjPA37v6i5Sy5jB7S-PkyjbQT_Mk1WKSUmQ/s1600/Sophie-8-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig3G6hl4yjfFUfwyEgmG9cP1id1zWQYjAT3JDi451BqensmQt43UX8VIAq1ieJYFFyaVxVNy9HOpVqw28h8SbuxBrSyOkASmvVqNgwjPA37v6i5Sy5jB7S-PkyjbQT_Mk1WKSUmQ/s400/Sophie-8-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617734114035010530" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUqy3WnM00oJpSb-KAlTCucnlolMPBk9j3iWj9Lm6inUqXq721HH0_Ct9ka1Zl9sKnbuzAwMMmIZ-easgHU43ZfAzhCvgP_QwSxJuC7g07ETKKnkavu715k0Sk2FdZkOO8nR-KqA/s1600/Sophie-11-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUqy3WnM00oJpSb-KAlTCucnlolMPBk9j3iWj9Lm6inUqXq721HH0_Ct9ka1Zl9sKnbuzAwMMmIZ-easgHU43ZfAzhCvgP_QwSxJuC7g07ETKKnkavu715k0Sk2FdZkOO8nR-KqA/s400/Sophie-11-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617734116835438562" /></a><br />This a long over-due update. On April 17 we dedicated ourselves as parents before God to raising our little Sophie. It was a precious time of recognizing all that we've been given and realizing that truly, while she is our gift, she's ours for just a little while. And even now, she is His.<br /><br />After the dedication we headed to a park and had a little picnic with close friends and family who have been a part of our journey and who, we hope, also dedicated themselves that day to being part of Sophie's life.<br /><br />We missed those who weren't with us...who love our baby and who, we know, are committed to her. This includes our Word Made Flesh family in Galati, Bicu and Bica in Galati, Catalin, Teri, Liam and Gavin in Omaha, my sisters Jamie (in Houston) and Elisabeth (in Portland) and their families, and also our sweet friends in Seattle, Portland, Omaha, Kentucky, and Indiana (you know who you are!). Your prayers and love were manifested that day in the face of Sophie.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9fgwzS76ifPJHA9bBOsjhpijsSGqFHZCX1R9cZZrqLagOTHzcw8W10CLVrS9vahL4TcHOlzNhIBP2tGoyqs77ra55IGek6HrVTiacZYXwwLP81IoZGA8POzQWTurkCslZveqNQ/s1600/untitled-7.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9fgwzS76ifPJHA9bBOsjhpijsSGqFHZCX1R9cZZrqLagOTHzcw8W10CLVrS9vahL4TcHOlzNhIBP2tGoyqs77ra55IGek6HrVTiacZYXwwLP81IoZGA8POzQWTurkCslZveqNQ/s400/untitled-7.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617734130970234242" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghDiw08U-WvGih94g9wY29NzXm8p3gx_dENpR8RoSCSkkY6eZt1qDeOXUtOlhL9SfkHgDPpkh_kbJKmykegW1QV1bIRiNnQSxvpADlh0vfxvbMBdgdPVGoNAPMLEdiLpYJhJLNqw/s1600/untitled-1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghDiw08U-WvGih94g9wY29NzXm8p3gx_dENpR8RoSCSkkY6eZt1qDeOXUtOlhL9SfkHgDPpkh_kbJKmykegW1QV1bIRiNnQSxvpADlh0vfxvbMBdgdPVGoNAPMLEdiLpYJhJLNqw/s400/untitled-1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617734127922518466" /></a>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-77008493573535784972011-06-10T07:23:00.000-07:002011-06-10T07:50:45.739-07:00Calendar Miscellaney<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8kt91mNCTRLBfMQ05KK5mqCvHgkwA5KdIxxd4s8Pu-N0aPGTAMYRLUYrDwnxgBUeeyft6DGLGfYd1sjWsWHmFdwVe14XwBsdO8E7awDlZvVKqWzixq3iSzwA0WviD_bxYHqI5iQ/s1600/Budapest+030.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8kt91mNCTRLBfMQ05KK5mqCvHgkwA5KdIxxd4s8Pu-N0aPGTAMYRLUYrDwnxgBUeeyft6DGLGfYd1sjWsWHmFdwVe14XwBsdO8E7awDlZvVKqWzixq3iSzwA0WviD_bxYHqI5iQ/s400/Budapest+030.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616597340157129138" /></a><br /><br />First of all, I'm not sure that 'miscellaney' is a word and if it is, whether I spelled it correctly or not. I think it is, but I couldn't find it in the dictionary. However, I believe it works and so just roll with me on this one.<br /><br />I have a calendar called: Thoughts for the Journey by a group that once existed called Journey into Freedom. They were big into social justice and serving the poor.<br /><br />Daily I'm supposed to flip a page a read a quote and truly, most the time the quotes are quite inspiring.<br /><br />Take for instance the one that came up on the day my daughter was born:<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Our truth is an ancient one: That love endures and overcomes; that hatred destroys; that what is obtained by love is retained, but what is obtained by hatred proves a burden. ~American Friends Service Committee<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span><br />What a great quote to have on the day you're born! May those words linger in my tiny girl's soul.<br /><br />My life has been a bit chaotic lately and so for a couple months, the calendar was stuck on April 10:<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Everything that happens to you has the potential to deepen you. ~John O'Donohue</span><br />I guess if the calendar had to stay on a day due to chaos, that's a good quote to hang on to.<br /><br />And then, while trying to organize the chaos the other day, I decided to have the calendar be on the right day. I mean, it sits on my bedstand, so it would be nice to wake up each morning and flip to the day's date and start the morning with a word of wisdom.<br /><br />Here is what June 8 says:<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them. ~George Elliot</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgiHaABwt1rVweGAIkhSgHhKEO0kAvJaK3qhY0E2FJ1x_0hBI883t-NVv8BpWMMJ4H8ladB98s6tiFJjmCUvgcO8m-wAsLMG3Xh2NmgA1IU_M1uLZPcq4fPdPN0j0QgIjfesi0NA/s1600/IMG_1064.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgiHaABwt1rVweGAIkhSgHhKEO0kAvJaK3qhY0E2FJ1x_0hBI883t-NVv8BpWMMJ4H8ladB98s6tiFJjmCUvgcO8m-wAsLMG3Xh2NmgA1IU_M1uLZPcq4fPdPN0j0QgIjfesi0NA/s400/IMG_1064.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616597328350734018" /></a><br />I've had a difficult time not worrying lately. Worry and stress. And while I don't want to downplay how these two friends (worry and stress) can drag a person's heart through the mud, I also want to say this:<br /><br />That I think worry and stress also point to that for which we long. They are descriptors of that which we want most in life. And it is those longings, those wishes, that point to who we truly are and what we hunger after. Are those things good? Are they lovely?<br /><br />And I think that what we long for and what we wish for hang around the door that leads to our calling. I wonder if things like stress and worry are the locks on that door that keep us from going after that which would make us thoroughly alive. I believe that worry and stress in a very unsatisfying way, satiate our hunger and so we forget that what the worry and stress were pointing to, are, after all, good and lovely.<br /><br />I'll be back on another day to talk about my worries. For now, though, the quote for this day, June 10:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Don't let your business determine your priorities, but rather let your priorities determine your business. ~Craig Nyschens</span>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-63805808482624682342011-06-09T14:25:00.000-07:002011-06-09T14:39:39.290-07:00Going back to work<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPzhCNNTATOuDdnvxdfq7rgnmYL2bJakT1FLf7NO-jVQBQzRFN_pjjzfHFJ6nsy3owey3z2b1-wIsRe0mBpuPkTsMBTQiG9LCerDLCn5yaCc01gw1P6spPGJ8BuO1q9M-SQNWs6Q/s1600/IMG_0837_2592.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPzhCNNTATOuDdnvxdfq7rgnmYL2bJakT1FLf7NO-jVQBQzRFN_pjjzfHFJ6nsy3owey3z2b1-wIsRe0mBpuPkTsMBTQiG9LCerDLCn5yaCc01gw1P6spPGJ8BuO1q9M-SQNWs6Q/s400/IMG_0837_2592.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616335624539108306" /></a><br />Today at 4:15 ~ dawn still dark~<br />I woke and fed my daughter,<br />then put her back to sleep.<br />I showered, dressed, and made myself up<br />so I could go <br />to an 8a.m. job interview.<br /><br />I have to go back to work<br />and this new mama heart<br />can hardly balance the ache of leaving<br />my girl with the need to provide.<br /><br />I watched her sleep~<br />this, the first morning I won't be here to greet<br />her tiny face when she wakes,<br />her smile filling my cup.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I know a mom<br />who rises early<br />to work at a dump<br />sorting trash<br />so she can feed her family.<br />Her harried existence<br />missing early morning smiles.<br />And yet missing the growing of her children,<br />does not lack the glow of sacrifice,<br />that fills her children's cup.<br /><br />I don't pretend that my<br />going to work is anything<br />like this woman's daily<br />demonstration of selflessness.<br />But in the moments before I left,<br />I pumped my love into a bottle,<br />a cup that will feed~<br />and I think I knew what it meant<br />to exist to love.<br /><br />**the above photo is used with permission and is the working mom of whom I write.<br /><br />Linking up again this Thursday with Imperfect Prose...<br /><center><a href="http://canvaschild.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-z1WSh8vHJfS6u2_VjGlA1pBR4oBfXE6EW4_8Ja0G6MR4kPGAAKxC9bbuVxtBBYEzdfIPnk2_YHjlBlqDApVCEGDDXo31ApTl5u3ziE8OGUmVyDXLWug710WL4O7pwwvh_Nc/s1600/blog+button.jpg" /></a></center>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-63478915656611805032011-05-31T10:31:00.001-07:002011-05-31T10:42:28.832-07:00ProudIs what I am of my sister JoAnna. Last Saturday she ran her first 5k.<br />For many this may not be extraoridnary, but for our family of non-athletes, this was a big deal. And completely inspiring.<br />She placed 4th for her age bracket with a time of just a bit over 33 minutes.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivgZsYQu7KCCk1csgUKVoAek3laxheAyfrU3M08tXojwArqIMOnF7NJRG5c6sCQsfcmnPPlgAa1HeZ2xFgYPbywvJaUBRZcFhmZlJMaqhSsPX37-W6ITDXPzVyCjxK26tFQhyphenhyphendnQ/s1600/Beaumont+5K-4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivgZsYQu7KCCk1csgUKVoAek3laxheAyfrU3M08tXojwArqIMOnF7NJRG5c6sCQsfcmnPPlgAa1HeZ2xFgYPbywvJaUBRZcFhmZlJMaqhSsPX37-W6ITDXPzVyCjxK26tFQhyphenhyphendnQ/s400/Beaumont+5K-4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612934624477348978" /></a><br />At the start...see her sunglass clad smile waving at you?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDMiUPFrdC7GDkfbOhwv_hQ23NHCaj-l150YMtgaAtG7f2f33gcxyAuhwdjiUQsPqIByI8l8J5k2PAlzvWEoFaudrFD_iH02J1gvwTA_5zhusi_1eW9NyMhGRJ-kkTIkIdh-6bow/s1600/Beaumont+5K-29.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDMiUPFrdC7GDkfbOhwv_hQ23NHCaj-l150YMtgaAtG7f2f33gcxyAuhwdjiUQsPqIByI8l8J5k2PAlzvWEoFaudrFD_iH02J1gvwTA_5zhusi_1eW9NyMhGRJ-kkTIkIdh-6bow/s400/Beaumont+5K-29.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612934627102835666" /></a><br />A photo finish!<br /><br />If you frequent my blog and don't know me in my everyday life, I have 3 sisters, all younger than me, but we were all born in a little less than 5 years. They've given me 10 (ten!) nieces and nephews and some pretty great brothers-in-law. My sisters are among my closest friends, my greatest supporters, my strongest allies. Come back for stories of our harrowing childhood...a sister series you won't want to miss!Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-31441323875611764652011-05-25T20:46:00.000-07:002011-05-25T23:31:57.504-07:00Random Updates of the Not-so-Random and Imperfect ProseI've been trying to blog. I think about it a lot. And...<br />time gets away from me. Or...<br />all I can think about writing has to do with baby. And...<br />no one wants to read a ton of posts about my baby. But...<br />i'm afraid that I'm going to lose readers due to my lack of posts. So...<br />please stay with me! And...<br />hopefully this random update will catch you up and entise you to keep coming back.<br /><br /> <span style="font-style:italic;">Imperfect Prose</span> is at the end of these <span style="font-weight:bold;">Random Updates</span>.<br /><br />1. Today The Oprah Winfrey show ended. And I'm a little sad about it. Not that I was a huge follower, but I enjoyed her. Which reminds me of this time in high school when my friend Anne Marie and I had to do an English project for A.P. comp and we pretended that I was Oprah and she was....I don't remember, but I interviewed her. I wore my mom's old white faux fur coat and recorded the theme song to play...anyway, I was impressed by what I saw of her last show. <br /><br />2. Which brings me to the fact that due to nursing a certain baby, I've been watching way too much T.V. WAY too much. For the first time I wish I had a Kindle.<br /><br />3.And, while most of my time is no longer my own, I've been spending a bit of time looking for a job. And so has Bela. He's been spending way more time than me. But, we are looking for work. I'm considering posting our resumes on the blog by way of advertising our abilities. Especially his. They are supernatural. So, if you need an action-figure-super-hero-type, he's your man. He doesn't spin webs or stop speeding bullets, but, he is pretty amazing.<br /><br />4. I grew up a freckled fair skinned strawberry blonde in Southern California and as a teen-ager, just wanted to be tan. While I've taken a bit better care of my skin in the last 20 years, damage has been done. During my pregnancy my OB said that I should get one of my moles checked out, which I did and the result was that this past Monday I had quite a chunk taken out of my leg to make sure that the mole wasn't malignant. Here's a photo or two of my bandage. I thought about showing the actual wound, but it freaks me out, so I can't imagine what you'd all think.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO97cp2FGQJHljyfa2X165qrINOjijJnD38DqD8IDYWFuhlunKQnuSsvseu9SqQbYQ2JuwdrTdotkk4RkvEBlAngRxIOUvV0ww3cyqf_l6LYrxJuizRrwDKY3m_OfOvShMgJTKLA/s1600/IMG_2521.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO97cp2FGQJHljyfa2X165qrINOjijJnD38DqD8IDYWFuhlunKQnuSsvseu9SqQbYQ2JuwdrTdotkk4RkvEBlAngRxIOUvV0ww3cyqf_l6LYrxJuizRrwDKY3m_OfOvShMgJTKLA/s400/IMG_2521.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610870476158102002" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2IpebSwKzGxJQ2yWRR2t8byKW_l1Q0dkcUgn_L9e_RLtyy_yzCsrB47v6BBoJo0Al9AT8q8desWsBs6efxvveYZ_VX1wcPeuWgWYR59zwe2-hPZx_fkyG1IDW_OJIzsQeAVD0GA/s1600/IMG_2520.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2IpebSwKzGxJQ2yWRR2t8byKW_l1Q0dkcUgn_L9e_RLtyy_yzCsrB47v6BBoJo0Al9AT8q8desWsBs6efxvveYZ_VX1wcPeuWgWYR59zwe2-hPZx_fkyG1IDW_OJIzsQeAVD0GA/s400/IMG_2520.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610870471191734194" /></a><br /><br />I should know in a couple weeks the result of this minor surgery.<br /><br />5. Of course I couldn't do an update without spending some time talking about my baby girl. Here are a few recent photos.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMG14VcxzDEhyphenhyphenp_XHo_fUzfiR433yEvekRVcIvTOIWCBVtHkR6jmkoCvCKIq3F9Eb2y__woMKNbFWsdQEUa2-MCUzPXVTqULnsefdCyJ_ea1vWTFIz_l4cKc58hVKsz6EiT1dOEg/s1600/Sophie-8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMG14VcxzDEhyphenhyphenp_XHo_fUzfiR433yEvekRVcIvTOIWCBVtHkR6jmkoCvCKIq3F9Eb2y__woMKNbFWsdQEUa2-MCUzPXVTqULnsefdCyJ_ea1vWTFIz_l4cKc58hVKsz6EiT1dOEg/s400/Sophie-8.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610872071305033794" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4INnMucXwoCC6HKY8uQTyAZLJL0TI5KJr7OC2ibnQnjDz_DOMXN_00WqIxLUQAe36ZTOCu5BHQllw1eFA0X3Hy2qR50zeuJzSf02VxbLLQkgVpF4N-muvFWtre9Vh6YEWKA8DiQ/s1600/IMG_2514.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4INnMucXwoCC6HKY8uQTyAZLJL0TI5KJr7OC2ibnQnjDz_DOMXN_00WqIxLUQAe36ZTOCu5BHQllw1eFA0X3Hy2qR50zeuJzSf02VxbLLQkgVpF4N-muvFWtre9Vh6YEWKA8DiQ/s400/IMG_2514.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610872066374473506" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5RAvlFmDD2nqKWfsbQzNzqD31CEvJRpA00MEfqApBE4d5y-2ILeqUQwdIq7O68L_PtoacA4UuejhCEdnRoSexyGCuy8nmecqHz40bDR3Q3pFaHVKznU1RIGQZKnd1DlCfJDOsqg/s1600/IMG_2513.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5RAvlFmDD2nqKWfsbQzNzqD31CEvJRpA00MEfqApBE4d5y-2ILeqUQwdIq7O68L_PtoacA4UuejhCEdnRoSexyGCuy8nmecqHz40bDR3Q3pFaHVKznU1RIGQZKnd1DlCfJDOsqg/s400/IMG_2513.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610872060758005602" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimKVSX-M_gE14xv0Kv3blvZ__CMJBQ7ta63CMqv8JrzYyeupBTkTFbVMQ39GoY5aqE0b8MNxNAyyqaQs0Pn94cG0AlCsXlK-40zAOAVte-iz9frZ8Z_IaWWxheixchbrKXcY7dzQ/s1600/IMG_2511.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimKVSX-M_gE14xv0Kv3blvZ__CMJBQ7ta63CMqv8JrzYyeupBTkTFbVMQ39GoY5aqE0b8MNxNAyyqaQs0Pn94cG0AlCsXlK-40zAOAVte-iz9frZ8Z_IaWWxheixchbrKXcY7dzQ/s400/IMG_2511.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610872058160610866" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7dC7inlp0NtOiCWcsiG5AJwX4USfRntmML8jnWtHGI9qR8BbIhC78Z9jpb5TGZ4BzIoUaWuYVPiZOsTA0TCXBv07z3qw2B2EWB2PoonF8GI7ITE05XQOU-dax27Xd-vhV61kSQ/s1600/IMG_2508.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7dC7inlp0NtOiCWcsiG5AJwX4USfRntmML8jnWtHGI9qR8BbIhC78Z9jpb5TGZ4BzIoUaWuYVPiZOsTA0TCXBv07z3qw2B2EWB2PoonF8GI7ITE05XQOU-dax27Xd-vhV61kSQ/s400/IMG_2508.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610872054821212962" /></a><br /><br />As you can see, Sophie is our bitty baby. While she is long, she is also skinny and has had me worried over the last month that she isn't getting what she needs to grow. We had a doctor's appointment yesterday and our really great doctor said that Sophie is on the charts, just little. <br /><br />Our Pixie-Lou is super alert, loves to smile, sneezes quite a bit, and even rolled over the other day. She's only 9 weeks old! My friend thinks she'll crawl and walk early...much to my chagrin as I want her to stay little for as long as possible. Notice her stretching those skinny legs!<br /><br />6. I have a new favorite lunch-time meal. Whole wheat pita, with a spread of humus on the inside, and just plain tuna. It's good.<br /><br />7. We finally started our little garden. Hoping that these starts will actually start and we can plant them in the ground soon. We did get a couple tomato plants in and one of them is already bearing fruit.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiEpeV6cvOFMp7dha1wHReTxQGj0H9ug8pJz8CneTZ6tY0QmOdBkQ4KEXoGE9-0y32Sd5tiYlnLFwCTRTr8JrHnrymQNYdCfB5MBTokQoQJNLNEbQw9sWA-jbMrlQle7nqgg_XIA/s1600/Garden-8.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiEpeV6cvOFMp7dha1wHReTxQGj0H9ug8pJz8CneTZ6tY0QmOdBkQ4KEXoGE9-0y32Sd5tiYlnLFwCTRTr8JrHnrymQNYdCfB5MBTokQoQJNLNEbQw9sWA-jbMrlQle7nqgg_XIA/s400/Garden-8.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610900272493634978" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzQRXZE0ND1bCK_R-6YPPRwZoxmLYMEkJ4Ne6yheaouY5OEqrxCShAHtoyT-n1WunpDtk7w8bUINPkWGKQfIVOOwCjc_5MFGnoh_vAxwdkrXaXV5TNXXpDWasWZmhpT7AkuicMUQ/s1600/Garden-6.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzQRXZE0ND1bCK_R-6YPPRwZoxmLYMEkJ4Ne6yheaouY5OEqrxCShAHtoyT-n1WunpDtk7w8bUINPkWGKQfIVOOwCjc_5MFGnoh_vAxwdkrXaXV5TNXXpDWasWZmhpT7AkuicMUQ/s400/Garden-6.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610900268874181202" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTJnrLwW1dnBFQRn-_ThjB6sl6PAriV-ygF_vzABL2QUvEuRJaoWtb5-KNey8t5_WjhzrZkjFj6xQqZ4V-fQkpIHvtlrYXweXI6Q8zyCaiMXP81-v1ofZwvDKQO93G9nwpLvEEuA/s1600/Garden-5.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTJnrLwW1dnBFQRn-_ThjB6sl6PAriV-ygF_vzABL2QUvEuRJaoWtb5-KNey8t5_WjhzrZkjFj6xQqZ4V-fQkpIHvtlrYXweXI6Q8zyCaiMXP81-v1ofZwvDKQO93G9nwpLvEEuA/s400/Garden-5.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610900265248630754" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPE294S08io-c_UpmSf2pJCzAvAp1K-pDgkM4JAVNNFJx5UGQJAF0oxXLDaTTg7OYwGNEVXmIatPPxb-BmKercxJ00eYj5HAM4yxi0m1WkXIeqoQVtC3VC7xbA7CaQ_r0zE6Xlg/s1600/Garden-1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPE294S08io-c_UpmSf2pJCzAvAp1K-pDgkM4JAVNNFJx5UGQJAF0oxXLDaTTg7OYwGNEVXmIatPPxb-BmKercxJ00eYj5HAM4yxi0m1WkXIeqoQVtC3VC7xbA7CaQ_r0zE6Xlg/s400/Garden-1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610900261225131058" /></a><br /><br /><br />Finally, this poem for Imperfect Prose. I wrote it almost 10 years ago...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />The Life I Dream</span><br /><br />Is always sunny and balmy<br />Perfect for working in a blossoming, fertile garden,<br />That once was a dark and empty void. I am<br />Nurturing vegetables and children, <br />With whom I am always round and great. <br />The love of my life slips into my <br />Mind and heart and body<br />Like silk. For moments each day I muse on all <br />That has become, hoping some <br />One will care to know that once<br />I, too, lay a dark and empty garden.<br /><br />You think I don’t know there will be days I want to walk away?<br />Times when I’ll be grabbing the porcelain of a toilet,<br />Sick with pregnancy, sick with worry that I’m too old to give birth,<br />Moments when I’ll literally pull my own hair out<br />Rather than touch the child of my flesh who<br />Is making me lose my mind?<br />I know I’ll want just 2 seconds to myself, one morning to sleep past 7a.m.,<br />Enough time to write at least a sentence.<br />I’ll be glad to pack them off to school,<br />Meet my husband back in bed, or even<br />Send him off to work so I can go back to bed.<br />I know I’ll wish to be alone again.<br />And when I do, may it only last a second before my <br />Ever longing heart remembers to be thankful.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://canvaschild.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-z1WSh8vHJfS6u2_VjGlA1pBR4oBfXE6EW4_8Ja0G6MR4kPGAAKxC9bbuVxtBBYEzdfIPnk2_YHjlBlqDApVCEGDDXo31ApTl5u3ziE8OGUmVyDXLWug710WL4O7pwwvh_Nc/s1600/blog+button.jpg" /></a></center>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-85852288711653497792011-05-18T11:01:00.000-07:002011-05-18T12:24:32.759-07:00Reading, Listening...Every 6 months or so I try to post what I've read and what I'm listening to. Obviously the last 2 months have been spent not reading...well, maybe some moms could still read, but I've not been able to hardly crack a book. <br /><br />So, my reading list from February through mid March (February because I included my reading through January when I posted earlier).<br /><br />Zadie Smith, <span style="font-style:italic;">On Beauty<br /></span>Ann Marie MacDonald, <span style="font-style:italic;">Fall on Your Knees<br /></span>Sally Beauman, <span style="font-style:italic;">Rebecca's Tale<br /></span>Mary McGarry Morris, <span style="font-style:italic;">Songs in Ordinary Time<br /></span>Jan Karon, <span style="font-style:italic;">At Home in Mitford<br /></span>Marc Weissbluth, <span style="font-style:italic;">Healthy Sleeping Habits, Happy Child</span> (still reading)<br />Anita Shrieve, <span style="font-style:italic;">The Pilot's Wife<br /></span><br />I'd found this $1 bookstore at the Inland Center Mall and it was great to buy used books so inexpensively. Sadly, their lease was up and they didn't renew, so they are no longer there.<br /><br />Okay, as far as music goes, I've been working off a playlist I put together in the months since we moved from Galati...aptly, I've titled the play list <span style="font-style:italic;">Moving</span>. You'll see that there are some artists, namely one, that I've enjoyed quite a bit in these months.<br /><br />Better than a Hallelujah, Amy Grant<br />I Never Told You, Colbie Callat<br />Dancing in the Minefields, Andrew Peterson<br />Call Me, Edwina Hays<br />The House that Built Me, Miranda Lambert<br />Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, Sufjan Stevens<br />Down by the Water, The Decemberists<br />1,000 Faces, Randy Montana<br />Planting Trees, Andrew Peterson<br />'Til the end of Time, Timothy Bloom<br />For Me, It's You, Train<br />Happily Ever After, He is We<br />God of My Fathers, Andrew Peterson<br /><br />I always love to hear what you're reading and listening to, so let me know!Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-2332185776160505232011-05-12T10:01:00.000-07:002011-05-25T23:27:52.376-07:00To Plant a GardenToday we bought seeds.<br />Already late in the season, <br />our plan for weeks has been<br />to plant a garden.<br /><br />Where tiny sprouts should poke,<br />lies only dust.<br />The fruit of a dream<br />still wrapped in its paper package.<br /><br />I've heard that many a road is paved<br />with good intentions~<br />or riddled with the potholes<br />of unmet desires.<br /><br />The plans we make,<br />how we think life should be,<br />intentions, expectations ~ hopes, dreams.<br />The crops we harvest when all we really wanted was<br />to plant a garden.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://canvaschild.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-z1WSh8vHJfS6u2_VjGlA1pBR4oBfXE6EW4_8Ja0G6MR4kPGAAKxC9bbuVxtBBYEzdfIPnk2_YHjlBlqDApVCEGDDXo31ApTl5u3ziE8OGUmVyDXLWug710WL4O7pwwvh_Nc/s1600/blog+button.jpg" /></a></center>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-20171030048727248402011-05-05T08:57:00.000-07:002011-05-05T09:06:58.126-07:00Imperfect Prose for my first Mother's Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5rfxN4bOCh8DUBgUbIdh701wnyBuAWBcrmzZ9Y1TpAR2aGnRt6uqSEK7vjxRUw8645LXczI9n3iMhLOtR3P4Tq6Fz1x3NHrZ_Yo6prY_OLtPUrWHxWXcvMo9LUdHQc-CgjiFyuA/s1600/IMG_2482.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5rfxN4bOCh8DUBgUbIdh701wnyBuAWBcrmzZ9Y1TpAR2aGnRt6uqSEK7vjxRUw8645LXczI9n3iMhLOtR3P4Tq6Fz1x3NHrZ_Yo6prY_OLtPUrWHxWXcvMo9LUdHQc-CgjiFyuA/s400/IMG_2482.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603262652529143970" /></a><br />Raspy breathing,<br />drunk on mother's milk,<br />threads its way through me,<br />anchoring on an ancient ache,<br />tying tight<br />and hauling it to the surface.<br /><br />I have always wanted you~<br />so reads that ache.<br />And the coo of your voice<br />the kick of your leg<br />echo what is as old as time;<br />since Sarah held her promise<br />and Hannah gave hers back,<br />I have always loved you.<br /><br />This body made to carry you,<br />These arms meant to hold you,<br />This heart ready to break for you~<br />already breaking...<br />with each smile<br />with each cry quieted in my arms.<br />You have made me the mother<br />I was from the beginning,<br />creating the woman I want to be.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://canvaschild.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-z1WSh8vHJfS6u2_VjGlA1pBR4oBfXE6EW4_8Ja0G6MR4kPGAAKxC9bbuVxtBBYEzdfIPnk2_YHjlBlqDApVCEGDDXo31ApTl5u3ziE8OGUmVyDXLWug710WL4O7pwwvh_Nc/s1600/blog+button.jpg" /></a></center>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-43379292844421938022011-05-03T23:09:00.000-07:002011-05-03T23:34:13.816-07:00What's in a name?When we were choosing names for our baby we knew from the beginning that we wanted to name her after my husband's maternal grandma, Irina. And so, before Sohpie was Sophie her middle name was (and is) Irina (The 'I' sounding like a long 'E'.) <br /><br />When my friend Aimee from the blog <a href="http://amongthemany.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-weight:bold;">As We Wend Our Way</span></a> heard that we were using the name Irina, she sent me a link about a woman named Irena Sendler who in WWII rescued thousands of Jewish children. <br /><br />While Sophie is named for a great woman, I love that she also bears the name of another amazing woman who cared about justice issues and put her life on the line to live out what she believed. Irina means<span style="font-style:italic;"> peace</span> and I'm reminded of the quote: if you want peace, work for justice.<br /><br />If you'd like to read a bit about Irena Sendler, check out the following links:<br /><br />Ne<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/13/world/europe/13sendler.html">w York times article</a><br /><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irena_Sendler">Wikipedia</a><br /><br />I hope you look up this little known woman...Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-45481421529910820982011-04-26T10:27:00.001-07:002011-04-26T11:24:14.961-07:00Introducing...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmaRyITbPRt8n2X8lB6HTmG4DfocpAcbSOArm-ilnk_LoTXzIDEs_RcksaWIOOEqJkx4SrVgid8_gNkdnZcpvhrZGu2sslW6sAtgcuEXMNfOJ2d_S2Y0_etDNL2Tna6L-Dyo32w/s1600/Sophie+Irina-66.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmaRyITbPRt8n2X8lB6HTmG4DfocpAcbSOArm-ilnk_LoTXzIDEs_RcksaWIOOEqJkx4SrVgid8_gNkdnZcpvhrZGu2sslW6sAtgcuEXMNfOJ2d_S2Y0_etDNL2Tna6L-Dyo32w/s400/Sophie+Irina-66.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599957399261949490" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgATYd71hizmBnOIzfDHVCzlU7cmI-E2OpAs7aDTlmezbGroGbgfqSLKBx1FDwgESwmgRmhIlmywsckSuTv-gQIGY2JzWcQ4rlZ45bMW4m5uhpJyJNrQvd6O0rXH5EPKExNMTnJLg/s1600/Sophie+Irina-12-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgATYd71hizmBnOIzfDHVCzlU7cmI-E2OpAs7aDTlmezbGroGbgfqSLKBx1FDwgESwmgRmhIlmywsckSuTv-gQIGY2JzWcQ4rlZ45bMW4m5uhpJyJNrQvd6O0rXH5EPKExNMTnJLg/s400/Sophie+Irina-12-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599957405753048194" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zui3nu_btnFdFJS-7mDnDWlz7tv3htCeunjG_y2iodvtr4rlioZKAKo9CtWlqLzUF8ARWlZpDV2XcPGvcr-YIUWnvXcMX_sHW0iwMfEJFDusR8L2_gtf1728PahvUBI49kAV_g/s1600/Sophie-48.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zui3nu_btnFdFJS-7mDnDWlz7tv3htCeunjG_y2iodvtr4rlioZKAKo9CtWlqLzUF8ARWlZpDV2XcPGvcr-YIUWnvXcMX_sHW0iwMfEJFDusR8L2_gtf1728PahvUBI49kAV_g/s400/Sophie-48.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599957403526988242" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQyJpwIyttv3QFUCsvSG8L618fg6ufuCakud_kZz0TxLc9Dr29zKhvRzBdKj1f0SJ9vMjLQmSeIeXfY4-k4piRUZ77nsAJ1-Ako8AUyRwByKvVADdSrno3hYe4aleomlx3eSPQQ/s1600/Sophie-7-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQyJpwIyttv3QFUCsvSG8L618fg6ufuCakud_kZz0TxLc9Dr29zKhvRzBdKj1f0SJ9vMjLQmSeIeXfY4-k4piRUZ77nsAJ1-Ako8AUyRwByKvVADdSrno3hYe4aleomlx3eSPQQ/s400/Sophie-7-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599957410624844850" /></a><br /><br />It's been almost 6 weeks since I last posted...which means that my sweet baby is almost 6 weeks old and I haven't introduced her to the blogger world!<br /><br />Allow me the extreme honor of introducing Sophie Irina. Her name means wisdom and peace. She weighed 7lb 3oz at birth and was 18 3/4 inches long. We've had a few gaining weight issues, but just last week she passed up her birth weight again!<br /><br />The first week of her little life was a bit hard. She and I have different blood types and this resulted in pathological jaundice. Her billirubin levels (which have to do with the jaundice) were quite high and near to hospitalization. For these first time parents it was a stressful few days. We spent a lot of time at the lab as she had blood drawn twice a day to see what those levels were doing. <br /><br />Everything came out fine, though, and she is our pride and joy.<br /><br />I'm learning, albeit with my head just above water, what it means to be a mom. Still, I couldn't be more thankful.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOwt1DF6Zdxg9_KDuIrF03T6xhLg5xgHWIrvtFG5EVEucU8aH5kQhiwTgb7k5Jr3mV7gYu8Qr5P5ApG6bRidIhVX1_kpzER0gOyqALJzeu5OYeVjYFF0gROOQE57IxcXpGAIOZoQ/s1600/Stylish_Blogger.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOwt1DF6Zdxg9_KDuIrF03T6xhLg5xgHWIrvtFG5EVEucU8aH5kQhiwTgb7k5Jr3mV7gYu8Qr5P5ApG6bRidIhVX1_kpzER0gOyqALJzeu5OYeVjYFF0gROOQE57IxcXpGAIOZoQ/s400/Stylish_Blogger.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599957416378207634" /></a><br /><br /><br />In the time I've been away, a sweet woman named Joybird from the blog <a href="http://asongbirdinhiscourt.blogspot.com">A Song Bird in His Court (click on blog name to follow) gave me a blog award.</a> A Stylish Blog award to be specific. This is my first blog award I'm so honored that Joybird thought of me.<br /><br />Now, there are a few things I'm supposed to do when given this award. I have to tell you 7 things about myself that you may not know and I have to give this award to 15 other blogs. I will do these things, but slowly...<br /><br />I'll start with 7 things you may not know about me:<br /><br />1. I was the 1,000,000th baby born at Kaiser Fontana. For this esteemed honor, I was given a $100 savings bond and my picture in the paper! I'm told a plaque is still up at the hospital awarding me this prize.<br /><br />2. When I was 4, I stepped on a nail on purpose. Just to see what it felt like.<br /><br />3. Because our baby is so tiny, I was having to wake her up in the night to feed her. So, I'd set my alarm for 3a.m...it would go off, I'd turn it off, and role over and fall back to sleep. Poor baby! And yet, she still gained 7oz last week and grew a half inch!<br /><br />4. In college I loved to play floor hockey. I was even on a co-ed intramural team...still have some scars from being checked or hit with the stick. My position was defense and I was pretty good.<br /><br />5. I used to write and edit for an online journal called <a href="http://theotherjournal.com">The Other Journal</a>. Check it out by clicking the title.<br /><br />6. When I was around 4 (lots of stuff happened that year!) I thought Jesus was in my bedroom. Turned out it was only my dad.<br /><br />7. I scored a 99 on the arts and literature portion of the ACT when I was a senior in high school. I scored way way lower on the math portion. Hopefully my child has her dad's brain for number and mathematical concepts.<br /><br />Okay, more later...but, please know that I'm back. I'm going to try to post regularly again...but I'm still trying to figure out the whole baby schedule thing so some days, while I may have the best of intentions, little Sophie may believe otherwise.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-58369513102139543182011-03-18T15:59:00.000-07:002011-03-18T16:08:55.910-07:00One more thing I want to say...In a half hour we'll be leaving the house in route to the hospital where I'll begin the induction process to have our baby girl. Hopefully sometime Saturday, March 19, she'll arrive. <br /><br />We couldn't be more excited.<br /><br />Or more scared.<br /><br />But mostly excited.<br /><br />And even more than that, thankful.<br /><br />Bela and I prayed together just a few minutes ago, wanting to bring the next few days before our Provider and just say thanks and would He continue to make His presence available.<br /><br />Last night I was watching my belly move in its strange alien way as she, the baby, fought for more room to stretch in my womb. I looked at Bela and said: remember when I was so afraid of losing her?<br /><br />The first half of my pregnancy I was terrified she'd slip away from us.<br /><br />And now, she's doing flips and somersalts (I know, not really, just feels like it) and I am so overwhelmed by this little life that my heart is bursting.<br /><br />So, one more thing I want to say is that I am, we are, so thankful. It makes my heart ache, it brings tears, it brings me to my knees. <br /><br />Sweet baby girl, still twirling in my womb, you are a gift. We can't wait to unwrap you and know you. No words exist, I don't think they will ever be written or discovered, to express our gratefulness for you.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-80771196996611163572011-03-16T21:26:00.000-07:002011-03-16T21:31:25.012-07:00On time and beauty<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVJr8SHguliLwbNf3gNhQ91CNFmsE4YmD4DAVBtx5KcO2ap92Ko87vKDoe8Jc-oibPyj1Eh-YXcOvhkEB_29q9qbPZU9Hm8Qj-6R_WJ7Fx-MyjYiqg1qWuTpoN6ghr6SiPu4e__w/s1600/Santa+Monica-89.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVJr8SHguliLwbNf3gNhQ91CNFmsE4YmD4DAVBtx5KcO2ap92Ko87vKDoe8Jc-oibPyj1Eh-YXcOvhkEB_29q9qbPZU9Hm8Qj-6R_WJ7Fx-MyjYiqg1qWuTpoN6ghr6SiPu4e__w/s400/Santa+Monica-89.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584901211018425266" /></a><br /><br />He makes everything beautiful in His time,<br />But time has mostly been my enemy<br />And I the victim of its freak thievish ways.<br />Still vacant,<br />Still longing.<br />Hope deferred makes the heart grow sick.<br /><br />And if by beauty you mean<br />This debilitating illness<br />Stretching over the days of my life,<br />Then I’ve got more beauty than most.<br />In fact, mine is a terrible beauty<br />Because it strains against rubble layers of<br />Eroded ground and piled leaves,<br />And reaches, breaking through<br />For sunlit blue and sparkling green-<br />Life in a time where it does not belong,<br />Hope when all hope is lost.<br /><br />And if by time you mean<br />A thousand years as just one day,<br />Then this time is not my own.<br />It is His slow meandering<br />Through centuries and millennia<br />and my vapored life.<br />And I am mixed up in a<br />Strange crime of scandalous beauty<br />And unmeasured time-<br />Risking it all<br />Because even if beauty is terrible,<br />And even if time cannot be contained,<br />It is still my hope-<br />If by hope you mean<br />Life in a time where it does not belong,<br />Hope when all hope is lost.<br /><br /><center><a href="http://canvaschild.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-z1WSh8vHJfS6u2_VjGlA1pBR4oBfXE6EW4_8Ja0G6MR4kPGAAKxC9bbuVxtBBYEzdfIPnk2_YHjlBlqDApVCEGDDXo31ApTl5u3ziE8OGUmVyDXLWug710WL4O7pwwvh_Nc/s1600/blog+button.jpg" /></a></center><br /><br />**Photo taken by Bela Ispas at the Santa Monica pier.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-39503494280355135042011-03-15T17:54:00.000-07:002011-03-15T21:21:10.796-07:00These final thoughts...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGSwh7O4t6k0rdRsnZDasj4bYxivnPziReFvdNzVUGtDARJimwDWfQa2SwzdsKXtXRWOqep_y1sOdlea-Y54QSVVzDy4Ah_XiQgiYPNI8uiwOo2fFvS91MVk8cU5cj1GPRtpzNSg/s1600/IMG_2373.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGSwh7O4t6k0rdRsnZDasj4bYxivnPziReFvdNzVUGtDARJimwDWfQa2SwzdsKXtXRWOqep_y1sOdlea-Y54QSVVzDy4Ah_XiQgiYPNI8uiwOo2fFvS91MVk8cU5cj1GPRtpzNSg/s400/IMG_2373.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584527545212778866" /></a><br /><br />As the days grow closer, hours tighten, minutes and seconds evaporate before the birth of our baby. We are eager to see her and hold her and the time leading to that great moment is slipping through our fingers.<br /><br />And I am realizing how the safety of where she is now housed, my womb, will soon be merely a memory, an idea once born of desire and now a place where she cannot return.<br /><br />It is only the month of March of the year 2011 and our world has seen such turmoil. Our baby will be born just after one of the largest earthquakes has ever slammed the earth, bringing with it a tsunami and then the danger of radioactive winds. <br /><br />This after another big earthquake only recently devastated New Zealand.<br /><br />And there are the countries in turmoil: Egypt, Lybia, Bahrain, and others I've heard of in the last few days whose names are escaping me mostly because there are just so many of them.<br /><br />Besides this, the people of our world are daily faced with famine, hunger, disease, slavery, abuse, addiction, and other calamaties that are beyond the scope of imagination.<br /><br />Our girl will enter this world of trouble and I know that for such a brief amount of time all those issues will slip away as we hold her and cry and say thank you for this gift.<br /><br />And I know that moments and even days and weeks will exist when I want to hide her. Maybe not in my womb, but keep her safely away from a world that will seek to steal the gift that she is.<br /><br />And I know there will be times without number when I/we will fail her, fail to love her well. When we will break her trust, break her heart.<br /><br />Still, here is what I hope.<br /><br />I hope to show her beauty. Maybe it will be the Grand Tetons or a flower in our backyard or the constancy of friendship or a marriage that lasts or a moment when so clearly you hear the call of a Savior Who says: I love you. <br /><br />I hope she knows her own beauty.<br /><br />I want her to know that there is darkness. Ah, but the light, the light overwhelms that darkness.<br /><br />I pray that she will know that there is an end to mourning. I long for her to be sure of the promise that we are not alone, He is with us.<br /><br />I desire for her to laugh often and deeply. I hope she isn't afraid to love. I pray that she will be wise.<br /><br />May she understand grace and see it in our lives.<br /><br />May she live, truly live. Holding what is painful along with what is lovely.<br /><br />I wanted to say these final things before she comes because right now the world is full of fear, but her birth, it brings love. And love casts out fear. <br /><br />And that love which is perfect, it never changes. He never changes.<br /><br />We welcome you, little girl, into a changing, scary world where we commit you to the One who does not change, Who brings life, Whose light overwhelms the darkness, Who promised to always be with you, Whose very name is loveliness and beauty. He is mystery, but He is truth and that truth can be trusted.<br /><br />Welcome. There truly is so much to hope for...Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32260559.post-55997628389775139152011-03-14T09:53:00.000-07:002011-03-14T10:36:38.820-07:00More things to say...Here's another thing I want to say before our baby is born...(I'm 39 weeks today!)<br /><br /><iframe width="480" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/_Gs3fg_WsEg?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen=""></iframe><br /><br />About a month ago my friend Rebecca posted this video/song by Andrew Peterson on her FB page. <br /><br />I loved it. I loved him. I've bought his most recent CD since then and feel a connection with many of the songs. Check him out...<br /><br />But giving Andrew Peterson a plug on my blog is not the reason I bring him up. Instead, it's more about my husband and some of the the lyrics in the song "Dancing in the Mine Fields."<br /><br />Bela and I left Romania 4 months ago. Coming home to the states was, for me, while not an easy decision, one that was in many ways necessary. Especially being pregnant with our first baby. I was battling with much anxiety over the pregnancy and other things and so coming to the states just seemed the best decision for our family.<br /><br />But it was the hardest choice for my husband. <br /><br />He is Romanian. He's never wanted to live anywhere else but Romania. He'd served for over 10 years with Word Made Flesh in Romania. He loved the kids, the community. His parents are in Romania. His future was in Romania.<br /><br />We knew that coming to the states would mean going through the immigration system (not an easy nor an esteeming process). It would mean figuring out a future in terms of jobs because, while educated, we didn't know how that education would translate in the states for him. He'd have to make new community, new friends. We'd be living with my parents. He'd have to learn how to get around a new city, new <span style="font-style:italic;">cities</span> since we're in Southern California. <br /><br />And he did it. He left everything. For me. For us. <br /><br />Before listening to the Andrew Peterson song I'd often thought about what my husband had done similarly to the lyrics Peterson uses...<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">But to lose your life for another I've heard<br />is a good place to begin<br />Cause the only way to find your life<br />is to lay your own life down<br />And I believe it's an easy price<br />for the life that we have found.</span><br /><br />Scripture says that there is no greater love than when a man lays down his life for his friends. Or his wife. Or his family.<br /><br />I've not ever known a greater human love than the one my husband has shown me in leaving his life. I often pray that what he has lost will be replaced manifold times. That in losing his life, he will find it.<br /><br />I wanted to say these things before our baby is born so she knows ahead of time what a great man her dad is. How much he loves us. <br /><br />And while it often feels that he and I, Bela and myself, in this move to the states are 'dancing in the mine fields,' that all of this is <span style="font-style:italic;">harder than we dreamed</span>, we also believe that this very thing is what <span style="font-style:italic;">the promise we made to one another is for.</span><br /><br />May our child find safety and home in that promise.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02280348289906951304noreply@blogger.com5