October

Looking back, October had to be one of the most emotionally and physically hard months to experience, yet in a lot of ways it was a good month, too. Let's look at a few of the good things, shall we?

1. Fall leaves. The are at their finest in mid-October. It is absolutely my favorite time of year, and they were truly breathtaking.

2. Covered Bridge Festival. After not having gone in about four years, I got to go TWICE this year. I got cute little primitive signs for my house. One I am especially looking forward to putting one by my front door of two snowmen that says, "Baby, it's cold outside!". Not that I'm rushing the snow or anything....And I got to experience the best-tasting big, soft pretzel at the festival that I have ever had in my life. No exaggeration. I've craved one ever since.

3. Persimmon pudding. I made some the morning I started to miscarry. I took some to a friend and some to my dad that day for his birthday (hoping for a less eventful birthday for my dad next year!). I think persimmon pudding might be a regional thing, but it is delicious and warm and spicy like nutmeg and cinnamon. Topped with whipped cream, it is one of my favorite desserts.

4. Voting. We opted to vote early to avoid any crazy long lines on Tuesday. Abigail got a sample voting sheet and went into the booth all by herself (well, with Mommy holding her up to the counter to color in her circles). She wanted Obama and Palin. Obviously, we didn't make party lines clear enough to her. But Paul's finger clearly pointed to the McCain/Palin circle for her to color, and she was happy to do it. But ever since she has asked if we voted for Biden.

5. Blogging. I have had more reason than ever to blog this month, and it has been incredibly healing for me. I don't know that I always will post so much, unless it becomes a paid gig. :) But it has served my heart well this month.

6. Jack o'lantern. He was cute. He was a fun family experience. He was in the trash a week before Halloween. We'll know to wait til later in the month next year.

7. Abigail as a bride. She was beautiful. We went trick-or-treating last night, and she marched right up to every house with not a stitch of fear or shyness. She knocked and said "Trick or Treat". At one house there were three high school aged girls passing out candy on the front porch. After Abigail took her candy, they said, "Peace out" to which she replied, "Take a hike." Yeah, her Daddy taught her that one, but we forgot to teach her not to say it to strangers. Usually it goes in this order as he taught her..."Word, Dog. Peace out. Take a hike. Word to your mutha."

8. Halloween candy. I have already eaten three Kit Kats for breakfast. Fun-sized, of course. :)

9. Pastor Appreciation Month. October is officially that month. Maybe one more thing made up by Hallmark or a Christian bookstore somewhere. But it makes a happy month here! Our loving church family took up a love offering for us to show appreciation to Paul. And my wonderful husband is pretty much using most of it to show appreciation to me! He let me use some to go shopping for some much-needed fall and winter clothes. We got caught up on all our bills. And he set aside a chunk of it to take me out for my 30th birthday in December...we are going to spend the night in Indy and go to see either A Christmas Carol or It's a Wonderful Life at the repertory theater. I can't wait! Oh, and 70 bucks of the money is going to get our cat declawed. It's long overdue. I don't think she will feel very appreciated come Tuesday.

10. Lots of family and friend time. Let's face it. It's been a pretty awful month in some respects. I have been surrounded by so many friends and family. I have felt the heart of God loving me through all of you. I have not felt alone in any of this. My God is a loving and awesome God...I will praise Him no matter what.

Here's a few pics of our month:

Family at the Covered Bridge, Bridgeton, IN



The aforementioned, Best Pretzel Ever


Our sweet little tree

One proud first-time voter


She took this privilege very seriously!

My Promotion

I just want to take a minute to promote my friend's photography. Hilary has been one of my dearest friends since elementary school, and has been taking pictures at least since then. I remember all of her photography entries at the 4-H Fair, and she usually one the biggest, bluest ribbons. Well, now she gets to make a business of it!
If you know anyone in the area who is having a wedding, a baby, or any other special moment to take a picture of, consider calling this lady! Her pictures are so gorgeous, and I just know you will be happy with the results.
Click on photographybyhilary.blogspot.com on my blog list on the left to see some of her pretty pics!

In Her Sparkly Glory

Everywhere were Princesses

We had quite the eventful weekend...pretty much everywhere BUT in the parsonage. Sometimes the sweetest moments happen at home. Sometimes they happen everywhere else.

Friday night, Abigail and I abandoned Paul to go to my mom's house. Dad was away on an Emmaus Walk retreat this weekend, so Mom had three nights all by her lonesome at home (I think she kept pretty busy, too). So, we went to her house, armed with our pjs and "Enchanted" on VHS, because between my mom and me, we have no clue how to work a DVD player. Sad, I know. We immediately got into our jammies and Mom made these super-yummy crab cakes and we introduced my mom to the world of Giselle. Who, if you have not seen Enchanted, is the princess. And Abigail would pick her hands-down over any Disney princess any day of the week. Which, technically, she IS a Disney princess, since Enchanted is a Disney movie, but we've yet to see her face on 712 random things at WalMart, so I guess she hasn't been invited into the club yet. Abigail managed to stay up until midnight somehow, because we all three slept in Mom's bed, and like a dog circling around to find a good spot, Abigail has to jump, crawl, roll and such for two and half solid hours before her little body gives out on her. That is not a usual bedtime for her, before any child protective services are called.

When we left Paul at home that night, he was getting dressed to participate in our town's haunted house. The room he was going to be in was a Haunted Prom theme, with ghouls in a graveyard dancing in torn and bloody prom attire. Paul got to be "Disc Shockey", the prom's DJ, and his artery in his neck was severed by a CD. And he was wearing lipstick. He said he made a little girl cry, which usually would make you feel pretty bad, but I guess in a haunted house, it gives quite the feeling of accomplishment.

During the day on Saturday, Mom, Abigail, and I went to visit my grandpa for his birthday. His 94th birthday. No two ways around it, a 94th birthday is pretty awesome.

Then that night, we got Abigail dressed in her Halloween finery for the Frolic on the square. She still remembers being in the halloween parade and costume contest last year, and has for an entire year called the square "Halloween." Paul says even a broken clock gets the right time twice a day. I guess if she calls it Halloween long enough, eventually she will be right again. She dressed as the prettiest little bride. Hey, we had to get some more use out of that white flower girl dress somehow! She looked beautiful, but lost the contest to a kid in an aquarium and a girl made out of cotton candy. Pretty just doesn't beat original, I guess.

After church yesterday, we headed over to the big city of Terre Haute for Paul's dad's symphonietta concert. They played show tunes, and we had a front-row seat. Abigail especially sat up straight and focused for the two ladies who sang "Night and Day", "You'll Never Walk Alone", and "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina."

Because she has a true appreciation for Broadway music.

Or because they were wearing sparkly ballgowns, and she called them Princesses. And even better was when a troupe of ballerinas came out to dance a waltz. About ten seconds into the dance, Abigail said, "I want to be a ballerina." So maybe princesses aren't all that they are cracked up to be.

It was an exciting weekend. Monday always seems a little bit of a let-down. But I think Paul is taking us girls out to lunch, so that is something to look forward to, for sure. I wonder if there will be any princesses there....

Insights from the Mat

This is a post I have been thinking about for a while, cultivating the thoughts and words in my head. Although there are many scriptures that I love to read and draw comfort from, there are two, well, maybe three stories in the Bible that I find myself relating most to. Maybe you could say they are my tried and true favorites.

First would be the story of Lazarus being raised from the dead in John 11. I'm sure we can all think of ways, even today as you sit reading this, when God didn't act according to "your" timing. You thought He would do things one way, and at least for a while, you were disappointed that He didn't do things the way you thought He would. I love reading Jesus' words to His disappointed and doubting friends..."Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?" I have heard more sermons and studied more of this chapter (in Sunday School) in the last six months that I probably have in my lifetime.

But I'm not going to talk about Lazarus.

Also, I really love, love, love the story of Mary and Martha preparing for Jesus to come visit. Martha is twittering around the kitchen, probably slamming around the pots and pans and sighing pointedly as she feels like her sister is leaving all of the hard work up to her. But there sits Mary, as the feet of Jesus, listening to all He has to say. And she chose what was better by far, and it could not be taken away from her.

But I'm not going to talk about Mary and Martha.

Last spring at a retreat, I heard what was probably one of the best messages on Mark chapter 2 that I have ever heard. It resonated in me then, and I had not even experienced all that we have had happen in the last year. In Mark 2, Jesus is speaking at a house in town, and it is wall to wall with people who have come to hear him....literally, packed and overflowing. There was a man who was a paralytic who wanted to get to Jesus. I don't know what his faith was expecting...a healing touch, comforting words, just a glimpse of this man called "Messiah." He was put on a mat and four of his friends carried him, probably miles and miles, to this house. Once they got there, they realized there was no way of getting inside. Some would have given up, turned around, and gone home. Some may have sat down outside the house and waited for Jesus to come to talk to them outside. But not these friends.

After carrying the dead weight of their paralyzed friend all the way to the house, they continued to carry him up the outside stairs to the roof. The roofs in this day were flat, and considered a place to "hang out"...kind of the front porch of our day. Despite how tired they were from their trip, they got down on their hands and knees and started digging through the roof. I guess as I have read this in the past and read that they "made an opening" in the roof, I picture them getting out some handy saw or power tool of some sort to cut a neat little window in the roof. Not possible here. This roof was made of mud, dirt, straw. It was dirty. And these four friends were getting dirty in it, probably clawing away an opening with their bare hands and desperation for their friend.

Once they made an opening, they lowered him down. Can you imagine being there inside the house listening to Jesus? Maybe you were a lucky one to get a good spot right in front of him, or even lucky enough to sit in a window and catch a fresh breeze as he spoke. Either way, there is no room for moving with all of the people there. And then, you look up and see the roof starting to cave a little. Dirt and dust start falling on your head. And then, well, somebody better move, because there is a grown man being lowered on top of you.

And Jesus notices. He notices the faith of the friends to go to that extent to bring their friend to Jesus. And he notices the faith of the man to allow his crazy friends to do what they just did. He notices....and he acts. He heals the man, first of his sins, and then of his paralysis. He heals the man's sins first, knowing that until that happens, none of the other acts will be noticed or appreciated for the miracle they are. He heals the mans sins because the paralysis of his heart is greater than the paralysis of his legs. He heals the mans sins first, and then so the people in the house would truly "see" and believe, Jesus heals the man's legs. Because sometimes we need that much of a visual to understand what Jesus is truly doing.

I love this story, because even though I have heard it many times throughout my life, I have realized that sometimes I am one of the four friends. Sometimes I am carrying one of my friends or loved ones to Jesus, tired, weary, and desperately doing anything to get them in front of Him. To get them "seen." Sometimes we have to get down in the dirt with our friends, right where they are, and get dirty with them in an all-out attempt to help them see the face of the Savior.

But sometimes, I am the person on the mat. Sometimes I am being carried when my strength is gone. When my will would not matter on it's own, because it is so weary. There are those times when I can only look up from my jostling mat as it is carried, grateful that there are people who love me so much to make that trip. Grateful that people care enough to get dirty for me. I know that there are the times when my mind and my heart want to get to Jesus, but the road is long, and my legs don't work like they should. And so, I am carried.

I am grateful most of all for my Jesus, who sees me being lowered down, distracting so many from His sermon, likely stopping Him mid-sentence, and He stops to stoop down and see me. He knows that I would gladly jump up and hug Him if I could, but sometimes the healing I need is more than even I realize. I need Him to heal my heart first. Once that is done, I can gratefully appreciate when He heals all the rest of me.

This Week's Normal

I guess I am getting a better picture of what grieving looks like over these last few days. To say it is a roller coaster would be a comparison, at least. After I typed that blog on Wednesday afternoon about this great time I had at the Covered Bridge festival and that I was doing better, I must have spoken a little too soon.

Wednesday night I went to help at Awanas at our church, and oh, I don't know how to describe it except that is was "too normal too soon." I don't think I was ready to sit and help kids recite their Bible verses. I worked with two little boys, first grade-age, and usually I really love listening to God's Word come out of their little mouths. But, I also like to explain what these verses mean to them. I think to a first grader, "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" might need a little understanding help. I mean, to them, what really is "sin"? And what does "falling short" mean, since that is not a term they are likely to hear regularly? And what is the "glory of God" in first-grade terms? Anyway, I was walking through this verse with them, and I got the following questions thrown at me in rapid fire:
Is lying sin?
Do you lie?
What kind of lie?
Do you still lie, or did you just used to lie?
(As you can tell pretty easily, one of the kids equated sin with lying. And that is all.)
Does God lie?
God's perfect? Are you sure?
Is Santa Claus real? (not sure where this one came from. But I quickly said we weren't going there, because a guy I went to high school with still claims that my mom as his substitute teacher was the one who broke the news that Santa wasn't real, and he maybe was still mad about it.)

Those were just a few of the questions. All mixed in with me leaving out the words in the verse, expecting them to fill in the blank (Abigail learns this way pretty well, why couldn't a first-grader?). Except every time I would make the blank be "sinned", he would fill in "God". So it was "All have....God." Sunday school answers, I know. So, I left there a little frustrated, feeling like I made NO difference in their learning that night. I went up to join prayer in the sanctuary, and could immediately feel tears welling up in me, and told Paul I was just going to go home. And in the 45 seconds it took me to walk across the yard in the pouring rain, I was bawling. Like, probably the biggest cry I had had since Friday morning. I sat on our front porch in the dark, watching the rain, and just cried. It was probably the first time I had an "I don't understand" moment with God. I was just telling Him how I felt like I had not gotten anywhere with those boys, that I had made no difference there tonight, and had just left frustrated. And that I couldn't take one more person asking me "Are you okay?"

Because that night, I wasn't. But today, I feel like I am. Like I am accepting it more. Handling it better. Today, I feel okay. Yesterday, I felt okay. See? Every day, every moment is different. But I guess I just need to let it be different and not expect to feel any one certain way at any one certain moment.

Yesterday, I had my ultrasound at the hospital to see if I will need a D&C. From the sound of things, I don't think I will. It's hard to decipher, because the ultrasound tech really can't tell you anything since they are not your doctor. They just have to send it all to your doctor and let them decide what to do. But he was training a new ultrasound tech yesterday, so I could pretty much tell by the things he was telling her that everything seemed okay. I hope so, anyway. This was the same guy who did my ultrasound three weeks ago when my hormone levels were a little low and they sent me over to have everything checked out. It was with him that I saw a baby and a heartbeat. So this was a very different experience with the same tech. He is a very gentle and soft-spoken man, and I really think he is good at his job. This, compared to the tech I had last week who acted nervous the whole time, like he didn't want to break the bad news to me. Of course, who would? Anyway, this ultrasound was very different. He didn't show me anything on the screen, but I guess there was nothing important to see. I have no need to see my ovaries or endometrial lining. I'm okay with his assessment of it all.

Afterwards, Paul, Abigail, and I went (again) to the Covered Bridge festival. I was so happy to have talked Paul into going with us. It was a very enjoyable afternoon, and a beautiful drive through winding, tree-lined roads. I adore time with my family, and especially at times like this, crave it even more than usual. It was so nice to stuff ourselves with festival food and buy things we never really need, like chocolate peanut butter fudge.

And, as a side note, to show that I am not walking around in doom and gloom all day, I will segue into something lighter....Have you all seen the commercials for Sham-Wow on tv? I admit, I am easily sucked into a good infomercial, and watching the guy with the Britney Spears mic on his head talking about..."Made in Germany! And we all know the Germans make good stuff, right?"...well, I cannot turn it off. There was a lady in Bridgeton who was demonstrating the Sham-Wow, and I was literally impressed. I saw it do all of the things they claim on tv. I didn't cave on the sale, as we really wanted to save our money on a giant pretzel, but I'm just saying if you do cave on the sale on tv, I don't think you will have wasted your money.

How Precious Life Is

To catch everyone up on the last couple of days, things are going better around here. "Better" being a relative term to the situation. Monday was when I actually miscarried, so it was tough. I think I had had those few days to prepare myself mentally for what was going to happen, so I was not caught off guard. I called Paul home from church afterward, and my sweet, sensitive husband said some very kind words....instead of trying to understand what I just experienced physically, or trying to say "just the right thing" to make it all better, he said this:

"Do you want to go outside and water the tree?"

I thought it was about the most understanding thing he could have offered me at that point. It felt so right to go outside and add life-giving water to this little tree, when I felt life leaving me. It was such a simple thing, yet so healing. I cannot even explain how this little tree, without a single flower, has given me so much comfort. I find myself looking out my kitchen window as I do the dishes and just loving that tree and all it stands for.

Each day has gotten easier....I guess "easier" meaning "less emotional." I got to go to the Covered Bridge festival with my friend, Angie, today, and we had such a fun day. It was a beautiful fall day, and I loved pointing out the changing trees with her and watching the leaves fall effortlessly to the ground. God gives those trees ultimate beauty before their leaves fall. The kind of picture that catches your breath, even though you know in just another month, those trees will be bare. We are such a grateful people to have a God who shows us LIFE and the cycle of life all around us. Who shows us colors so vivid just before they fall to the ground. Just like hearing a baby's heartbeat only days before it is gone. I have no explanation for it, but it is precious.

I have been listening to song lately that has spoken volumes to me. It is by an artist named Andy Gullahorn. We saw him perform in Terre Haute last December with Andrew Peterson's "Behold the Lamb of God" tour. He performed this song there, telling us he wrote it for friends of his who had lost a child. Obviously from the lyrics, his friends were further along in their pregnancy than we were...far enough along to identify the gender on the ultrasound. But I do relate to these lyrics. You can also go to his myspace to hear the song. Here are the lyrics to "How Precious Life Is":

HOW PRECIOUS LIFE IS
We moved the desk out of the office
Took down the college picture frames
Painted all the walls yellow
Because it goes with anything
Put those guards on all the outlets
Found a safer car to buy
Did it all for your protection
And your mama’s piece of mind

I couldn’t see it ‘til now
You were teaching us then
How precious life is

I saw you in that picture
When they said you were a boy
Though I swore I had no preference
Those words filled my heart with joy
My mind raced ahead a decade
It had us camping near a fire
Where you’d tell me all your troubles
And I’d make everything alright

I couldn’t see it ‘til now
You were teaching us then
How precious life is

God willing if we have another child
I’ll see it for the miracle it is
I’ll be hanging on to every blessed breath
‘cause I can’t forget
How precious life is

I thought I knew what pain was
But I really had no clue
Until the hope was disappearing
And there was nothing we could do
I was too tired to shout in anger
Too scared to run and hide
I just stared there at your mother
And thanked God she was alive

I couldn’t see it ‘til now
You were teaching us then
How precious life is

Thanks for going here with me these last few days. I know they have not been the sunniest or funniest of blogs to read (good Lord, I hope not). But having my friends read this, and share emails and comments with me has shown me those who rejoice when I rejoice and mourn when I mourn. And for you, I am thankful.