Blogging again? I can't even say if it's a good idea.
I really don't know... I hardly know myself some days; so much has changed. Theres been a remarkable transformation that's been going on in my life and it's far from over.
I've gone from status quo to being a very sick person to being a person undergoing major transition and landing somehow on my feet and beginning the remarkably difficult uphill climb to being a person on the road to health...physically and otherwise.
I guess I had the thought that to write and share in some small way the parts and particles of the journey that myself and my family has been on might be a way to step back and gain the perspective so necessary to being able to continue forward every small victory side-by-side with every small defeat on step at a time.
For those who don't know... I was diagnosed after going off of writing this blog back in the early spring with Multiple Sclerosis and I can honestly say that blindsided our whole family and close circle surrounding us. What followed that diagnosis have been some of the most challenging and difficult months of my life (which is saying a lot if you know any of my life story) and yet through it all, God has been there and He is truly making all things beautiful in His time.
I have made some amazing discoveries and made some major life changes in the past months and my life has a new normal that is quite different from what I would've considered normal only a year ago.
It's incredible how much a single year can change one's life so drastically and I am certain that the changes are only just beginning.
I'd like to write about the changes we've been undergoing... the changes I've been undergoing! Even just to keep them all straight in my own head, but furthermore that they may serve as a testimony for what God has planned for my life. A plan to prosper me and not to harm me, a plan to give me a hope and a future...in His time.
I heard this song earlier this week and it has become my anthem this week...my soft and slightly breathless anthem... I may not be here all that much these days of long drawn out waiting, simply because I am at a lack of what to say...but I know that most importantly...I am here in His hands and really, there is no better place to be. Thank you to all of you who are praying for me and loving me... I feel it.
I hope you are equally blessed by this:
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance."(James 1:2 NIV)
And it looks like more testing is required...
literally.
So how will I learn to be joyful in knowing that another MRI must be scheduled to further investigate the results of the last one???
Oh just you watch me.
It's already amazing to me since walking out the doctor's office in a daze yesterday that the simplest things around me are hitting me as incredibly beautiful.
The snuggle with both my kids at bedtime. The songs I sing them to sleep with
Father in Heaven, hear my prayer
Keep me in thy tender care...
The commitment to uphold me in love and prayer from so many, the sun shining in all it's spring time brilliance...
Yes, He makes all things beautiful
and that is my joy.
I don't want to say it's killing me...but I feel a tremendous fluttering of butterflies each time I think about my appointment on Friday afternoon with the Specialist. I've been waiting a long time to get in to see her, and then all of a sudden the results from my MRI came in and I received two cryptic phone calls from the receptionist at the clinic asking me to bump up my appointment at the next possible opening...
Ummm...of course...may I ask why?
No, of course you can never ask why....the receptionist doesn't know anyway...you have to wait as patiently as possible...praying and trying not to worry...meanwhile the stress alone has resulted in three back to back migraines already this week...that's a new record for me.
Oh God, please help me.
I mean it.
I go back and forth trying to tell myself that if it was something really really serious they wouldn't let me wait until Friday even...if it was nothing at all they wouldn't be bumping my appointment by a whole month.
So my poor wearied, migraine addled brain is left with a vague category of things to choose from that it could be that the specialist needs to tell me...
I don't like that category very much...
Maybe there should be a rule about what receptionists are or aren't allowed to say to prospective patients in their phone messages....
Maybe I could use some prayers.
Cause as much as I believe in the power of prayer...mine feel a little pathetic right now.
That's all for today.
C'mon Friday.
I've mentioned here before that I don't care much for fruits and vegetables.I've also mentioned how I need to eat much more of them.
Complex carbs. It's what we all need... and what I need to find a way to get into my diet more and more.
I should rephrase my disdain however, by saying that I like vegetables when they are prepared nicely. And by nicely I mean not just chopped up on a plate...cause it has to be pretty incredible dip to make that appetizing day after day.
It should also be stated that I'm also quite done with worrying about being a purist. I know raw is the healthiest way to eat them...but I just don't eat them that way ( I mean I do...just not on a daily basis), so I'd rather they be cooked than go uneaten.
I have spent quite a lot of time in the past two years getting all lathered up about how much I wish I could have shelves of preserved this and that grown locally and organically in my own garden or some other worthy person's, ...but alas, it's just not going to happen.
I may get a small number of tomato plants or some lettuce going again, but last year's container garden of vegetable plants looked a little...um...low brow ( for lack of better term that won't offend people who come from certain less desirable neighborhoods)...and in the interest of making our house as desirable as possible for market value this summer...that just won't due.
And again I'd rather just be eating a vegetable or fruit at this point no matter where it came from.
I noticed one day that my kids will eat their vegetables willingly if they come in soup form. So I give them a lot of soup.
I decided I may as well start making up some soups for myself and here is what I came up with....
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| Here is a much more sophisticated recipe with a much classier photograph too. |
I use my hand blender and blend the whole thing smooth which makes it extra delicious and fulfilling somehow.
If I were you, I'd grate a little cheese on top and enjoy it with whole wheat crackers; rejoicing in the fact that you are eating much more broccoli than you would be if you'd chopped that bad boy up and just tried to chew it down like a mini tree mulcher...
My whole body went cold when I saw the number on the telephone. Univerisity Hospital Urgent Neurology Department.
I had an M.R.I. last week and they said the result would take about seven days...
Everyone knows it's not usually a good thing if they actually call you about the results...
Would they want me to come in and discuss them?
Dear Jesus....help me....
help me just to pick up the phone.
He did, and I did and it was all a false alarm. Apparently I've finally been booked into an appointment with a migraine specialist in the city.
A sigh of relief so mighty I think my knees gave out.
Isn't it amazing how powerful fear is?
My sister and I were reminiscing last week on our separate but equal experiences of being chased home from kindergarten by a large dog. Two different kids, two different schools, two different towns , two different dogs...exactly the same adrenaline that made us fly home faster than any five year old's legs every carried them; swept along by blind panic that any minute the large playful dog hot on our heels would devour us in it's enormous jaws.
Thinking about it, still gets my heart beating.
And just last night we took our five year old for her first ever horse-back riding lesson and no actual horse-back riding actually happened. Because it was the same combination of small child and large animal and my poor overwhelmed kid just stood there after all the months of chatting excitedly about getting to ride a horse, after all the drawings of herself on a horse, after decorating her bedroom and filling her wardrobe with homemade "cowgirl" outfits, after all the times we've driven out to visit horses in their stables where they were being ridden by other girls, going to the rodeo and even just watching it on YouTube, after pointing out loudly, every horse spotted on the side of the highway...after all this, she burst into tears.
I can't do it mom, I can't ride it mom, I just can't. I just can't do it!
Now granted I think her normal amount of pluck was badly bludgeoned by the immunization incident she suffered on Tuesday morning. But I really wasn't that surprised that she had that reaction. After all, docile and old, she may be...but that horse was still pretty big.
It took a lot of coaxing and the special touch of her very skilled trainer to get her close enough to old Mary to begin brushing her and eventually with me standing beside her we got to brushing out her mane and tail and even picking out her hooves. She got more and more relaxed and she began to chat and I could see her relaxing and beginning to open up.
Finally it was time for me to stand back and her trainer showed her how to hold the lead rope and together they took Mary into the practice ring. My daughter learned how to guide her left and right, how to back up and how to say "woah" and bring the mare to a stop.
By the end of the class her trainer was standing on one side of the ring alone and my daughter focused and pleased with herself led that big creature all around and through the pile-ons that had been set up.
All. By. Herself.
She never did get up on Mary's back, although she assures me she'll try again next week and with the progress she made in only an hour last night, I'm pretty confident she will too.
The hard part for me as a mom is simply knowing when to step in and when to back off. When do I put my hand over hers with the brush and help her get her hands onto the horse's back and when do I fade into the distance so that she can take the reigns so to speak?..
The best teachers are those that have perfected that art.
It's humbling on one hand to realize my little girl still needs me and it's humbling to realize she only needs me to a certain point.
It's a balancing act, Even for myself in mastering my own fears. When do I accept or ask for help, when does that support become a crutch?
Driving home from the stable, my shoulders were tense and I felt strained and nervous. I have very poor night vision and it was at my husbands push, that I was the one behind the wheel. He wants me to be able to be the one who shares these weekly classes with our daughter and I want that too, but I don't usually like to drive after dark, especially on little gravel roads that lack streetlights, lines and proper ditches.
But I did it and I'm glad I did, because next week perhaps I can make it on my own.
Me behind the wheel and my little girl up in that saddle.
Both of us conquering our fears.
It started off with me thinking that it might actually be okay this time.
"We have an appointment this morning sweetheart" I told her in the morning when she came to me, curling herself up like a kitten, like a still small baby like she used to. I'm so glad she still does.
"It's for a needle sweetie, just one poke...it's no big deal" I reassure her and she nods because I've been doing this all along too. Reassuring her.
I learned long ago when she was still a small babe, that the stronger I was, the stronger she could be. The calmer I was, the calmer she would be. So I trained myself to be still and calm and strong and hold her steady through the screaming and writhing and the tears and she'd be okay.
I'm trying to train myself in this in other ways too. And sometimes I fail. Miscommunications happen on the telephone and emotions run strong and I am the one with tears and a raised voice and the overreaction to pain and I forget she's there, watching and soaking it all in....little sponge that she is.
And sometimes I fail in the hot seat itself. I have her little body braced in my lap, but it's going to be three pokes not just one and my reassurances look like lies. And the needles themselves; they're huge. Three times the size of those when she was here last, 18 months old and so much more trusting, so much more forgiving and forgetful. A smarty could still fix the tears last time. But this time there fear and my singing isn't penetrating it. My gentle rubbing of her back isn't fixing anything. She's wild eyed and shrieking and breaking my heart as she begs and pleads for it to be over, but there's still two more to go and I fail her. Because I forget to pray.
I forget the source of all that calm all that peace that transcends human understanding and I leave him out of the room when he is needed most. I forget to draw on the well that is the only thing that can help and I am instead left doing a pitiful job in my own strength.
She knows it and I know it, and she cries all afternoon. Cries from the soreness and the stiffness and the fever that follows that night, the trip to the bathroom because her stomach has turned sour and she cries from the sight of the blood and the bruising because I didn't hold her still enough through her panic. Mostly she cries because she feels betrayed. Her face is puffy until the next morning.
I don't know who feels worse.
There was a lot of emotion yesterday, and eventually it was sorted through. A slow untangling and straightening out. Things returned to normal...no better than normal. Because at the end of all the struggle there is something better, something that may protect from the storm again next time. There's been lessons learned and the biggest one is to not leave the arms of the one who is holding me tight through it all either. My heavenly father is there with me braced in his lap, holding my hand, holding me still and I forget. I writhe and shriek and turn away. I try to do things on my own with a counterfeit serenity that helps no one. And I can't afford to hand the same counterfeit to my daughter. She needs more.
Later in the afternoon, I suggested we pray. She shook her head fiercely.
" I don't want to! I don't know how!!! It hurts too bad".
I know the feeling, I've said those words myself.
"Alright, well why don't you pray with me and you can repeat my words"
You can follow my example.
And she does.
It's been a week of treats here at our house. I summoned the energy to do some baking with the kids in honor of Valentines day. I thought it might be nice to share with you all our favorite chocolate chip recipe (made extra special by the addition of pink food coloring)
Where I got this recipe, I really have no idea. It crossed paths with me when I was in University, right around the time one needs a good recipe for chocolate chip cookies to snack on while cramming for exams.
I did not actually possess any implements for actually baking the cookies back then. I used a dutch oven as my mixing bowl and purely estimated the measuring of ingredients but even then, by golly they were good. (maybe even better).
the pictures are cute, are they not?
3/4 cup white sugar and 3/4 cup brown
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
2 cups chocolate chips. We mix it up and add 1 cup chocolate chips and 1/2 cup each of white chocolate chips and butterscotch chips.
Preheat oven to 350 (175 C)
In a large mixing bowl cream butter, sugars, eggs and vanilla (add the food coloring at this point if you want colored cookies)
In a separate bowl combine flour, baking soda, and salt. Mix dry ingredients into the wet ingredients.
Stir in all those chocolate chips
Drop batter by spoonful onto not stick cookie sheets and bake for 6-8 minutes in the preheated oven. Allow to cool for five minutes at least before scarfing them down.
I made a resolution this afternoon to be a better mom. It was right around the time I had finished sewing up the first of two decorated cloth envelopes so my kids could awaken tomorrow morning and have fun opening them to find all manner of little loving goodies. My plan was to write a love note to each of my children so that there would be some lasting token of my affection for them long after the candy wrappers had been thrown away. I thought about those little notes I wanted to write and all the heartfelt things I wanted to genuinely say and I made a firm vow that I was going to really be that mother all of the time from here on out. No more nagging, no more frustration leaking into my voice, no more inconsistencies, no more unfair judgement calls, no more being tied up on the telephone or internet or sewing machine. I was going to do it all from now one better.
I made it about two hours ...most of which my daughter was at school and my son was sound asleep....sigh.
An hour or so after that I was standing on the side of the road with my toddler in my arms trying to soothe him whilst he cried from the bite of the cold wind. "Don't worry little buddy, I know you're cold. Her bus will be here any minute....any minute now....any minute...oh dear Jesus please help her bus to come now!"
Finally, we had to admit defeat and retreat back to the house, where I frantically dialed her bus driver wondering what had happened to make her a half hour later for our usual pick up time. All sorts of scenarios ran through my head, and this isn't the first time the consistency of the bus system from her school has fallen through. (let's just say, it's not the most solid rock I've got to stand on).
Within moments of course, I received a call back from the driver assuring me they were en route but had been stopped by a large accident on the train tracks that split our town in half. Very soon, my sobbing five year old was in my arms, while my frazzled nerves worked overtime to comfort us both.
Then the baby cut his mouth and dinner hardly got cooked and my picky little one's deigned to sully their forks with any of the veggies and then there were fights and screaming and children being hard of hearing and cupcakes that had to be made for the next day and the second cloth envelop almost didn't make it, (which would never do) and I found myself a distracted, harried, ungracious mother far off the mark I had set for myself short hours ago...
Earlier today I had fallen in love with the words and music of a classic hymn I had never heard. More than anything the message stole me completely. "Abide with Me", Henry F. Lyte pleaded of God as he lay dying in the middle of the 17th century. His words resonated deeply with me even today, here is a small excerpt:
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide
When other helpers fail and other comforts flee
Help of the helpless; abide with me.
I need thy presence every passing hour
What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power
Who like Thyself, my guide and stay can be
Through cloud and sunshine; abide with me.
Upon the sweet truth of this hymn is the secret to finding a rest, a stillness, a peace and a strength I so often lack. I lack it most when trials come or the day feels long and bleak or my heart turns to ice as I look down the road and don't see that expected thing coming to me, anxiety creeps in and takes it's hold and I am not abiding. I am struggling and this too must be my prayer, that when other helpers fail and other comforts flee, that the Help of the helpless might abide with me.
I failed today, miserably. But thankfully, the presence of God doesn't depart from me based on the merit of my behaviors or attitude. The measure of my patience is out of step with the measure of His for me. Tomorrow I will wake up and I will resolve again to do my very utmost to love my children and be the mother they need for me to be. Only I won't be able to do it on my own strength. The wonderful thing is that I don't have to. Grace, Forgiveness, Mercy, Wisdom, these things are in limitless supply from the one who abides with me.
I will awake to my responsibilities anew, and with fresh determination I will throw myself into this business of being a mama. Together we will cut paper hearts and eat cupcakes, make mistakes and have meltdowns and I will write them letters of love from the bottom of my heart that they cannot understand at this age. Because I have first been given a love that I cannot fully understand, and it is abiding with me....always.
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| photo by husband. |
I haven't really knit in earnest since I was about 8 years old and I was taught how on a set of pencils by my step-nanny.
I've always enjoyed the rhythm and feel of crocheting instead and I've dabbled in a bunch of those projects over the last year and put off knitting because ...well it's hard and intimidating and I had no one to really show me how.
I took my needles and yarn with me last week to the local library and spent a humbled but blissful hour being shown the ropes by some very talented and lovely ladies.
I have discovered in only the two weeks that I have taken up the craft there are two secrets to learning to knit. Holding the yarn properly and having other people around you who knit and know what they're doing.
They are honestly the nicest, most enthusiastic and a little quirky ladies I've met in a long time and I am so pleased to know them and have them teach me.
Tuesday is fast becoming one of my favorite days of the week and I am finding it none too difficult to practice at least one hour a day. I'm working on getting my tension right and not dropping or adding stitches and so far so good. But also a little boring so tonight at the library I asked Paula (the lovely group facilitator who teaches textile arts for special needs kids at the local high school, is working on getting her ham radio license and wears fabulous hats) to help me get started with this pattern.
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| Isn't that gorgeous?It's from"Instant Expert Knitting" by Ros Badger and I picked up this book a couple years ago second hand the last time I thought I'd give knitting a try and didn't. |
It claims to be a beginner pattern and I think I might be able to figure it out with all the help I can get. Nancy (another expert knitter in the group who cards, spins and dyes her own wool) offered to help me any time if I stop by her yarn and fabric shop (she also teaches classes on spinning wool...oh my, wouldn't that be exciting!). Anyway I'm now 10 rows in and loving it, although I took this picture earlier today when I was still working on boring dishcloths because that's when the light was in my living room.
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| I'm working on a basic garter stitch on size 4 bamboo needles with this yummy blue yarn I picked up at the thrift store. It's so soft and stretchy it puzzles me that someone would part with it, but their loss is my gain. |
Anyway, I'm thrilled to be back here with Ginny from Small Things for Yarn Along (a place for readers and knitters to share what they're up to). I'm with a new blog and it's been a long time but it feels good and my hands are getting the hang of both needles faster than I thought they might, so hopefully next week, I'll have more to show.
Oh and for books, it was a ton of fun earlier today to quiet my kids squabbling at each other with this book that I also loved at their age, "The Sweater" retold by Jim Ayelsworth. I clearly remember my kindergarten class reading it and doing projects based on it (though an older version). I think there was even a flannel board involved( be still my five-year-old heart).
Tis the season for citrus and I am loving it let me tell you. I sadly realized while in conversation with my sister (it's amazing how many revelations I have in conversation with those blessed sisters of mine) that I fall drastically short when it comes to recommended servings of fruits and vegetables. As a child, vegetables were my mortal enemy and I learned to swallow down the bites that were part of supper like pills with my glass or water. Fruit was hardly better. It always seemed mushy, bruised and overripe and because the rules were that a piece had to be picked and eaten from the fruit basket everyday, I'm afraid more often than not, the spotty bananas and brown apples met creative demises far from my mouth and digestive tract. (my stepmother still doesn't know to this day that they were often chucked over the back fence and their peels laid carefully in the garbage can to hide our deception).
So, fast forward 20 some years and here I am still wincing at the thought of munching down on the fruit bowl or the veggie crisper...
Alas my health is much better when I am consistently chowing down on carbs of the more complex variety and a change needed to occur.
"Just pick the few fruits or veggies that you do like and make sure to eat those every day" was my sister's advice and it was good advice. Besides I am actually allergic to a large selection of tree borne fruits and therefore what is available to me is slim pickins.
First on my list was grapefruit, I actually do enjoy it and because I eat it with a spoon there isn't any sticky fingers to deal with like there always is with oranges (which is also an issue with me left over from my childhood disdain of having messy hands...sigh)
Every morning these days, a grapefruit is sliced and sprinkled with just a touch of sugar, scored and then spooned up. It'd delightful. and just the fact that I'm starting the day off with fruit makes me feel good about myself. (and that's before I get into how much more water I now drink or the 1.4 miles I run every morning...yussss!)
And the kidlets have noticed too....unfortunately. My kids like many manners of fruit but they have also decided they like grapefruit and it's become a fight to get it all into my own body before they start pleading at my elbows with those giant eyes for a "red orange" of their own.
I have begun to hover protectively over my grapefruit because because let's face it, I am a sucker for those eyes and well what mother doesn't want to give her children more fruit...
I certainly don't want history to repeat itself, I want my children to want their fruits and veggies so I guess it's a good thing...although veggies is still a different story for the kids. Just last night their was battle to get my daughter to eat her zucchini and I was tempted to teach her the trick of swallowing it like a pill with her water...but I didn't. I shoveled it into her mouth while she screwed her eyes closed...and then gagged until it was finally chewed and swallowed, but it was chewed and swallowed so I guess that's what matters..
I dislike labels as much as the next person. There's a ton I've had to fight being put under and putting on myself.
I bristle at the idea of being coined as a "pack rat" and yet here I am trying to find a way to downsize my life by about half of what I own and it's no small task. I'm not a hoarder that's for sure, but I do have a tendency to hang on to stuff I really don't need to, and in conversation with my sister the other day, I came up with the reason why...unfortunately it's a label that fits.
I'm a just in case keeper. I keep all manner of useless things just in case. I have multiples of multiple things because, you never know when you'll need it again. But this is ridiculous because no one needs as many pyrex dishes as this woman's got. I did need them once upon a time when I was 8 months pregnant and went nuts filling my freezer with more casseroles than any family can really stomach...but since that time they're just taking up space. And that's space that I'm really not going to have in another year or so.
There's a freedom that comes with finally hauling out all the bits and sundry that are cluttering up the corners of my life, but there's an anxiety too and that's a problem....one I needed to get to the heart of.
Thankfully I am the child of a Heavenly Father who is in the business of getting right to the heart of me and his timing is impeccable. No sooner had I decided to join my husband in throwing our well- laid picket fence plans by the way side for the next five years than I picked up a devotional book by Priscilla Shirer that hits the ground running with a tough talk on contentment.
Now contentment is something I thought I had...but I don't think anyone with true contentment should be so anxious over getting rid of some baby clothes she doesn't need or feel like what she has already isn't enough. In fact, this statement from the book hit me pretty hard between the eyes.
" You can always tell people who operate from a position of perceived lack and deficiency. They're stingy with their time. They're selfish with their resources. They're tight fisted with their energy. They're reluctant to sow of themselves into the lives of others because they're afraid they don't have enough to it with and still have enough left over for themselves."
ummm...ouch. Excuse me while I crawl out of view...because yes, that is all too often me in spades. And I'll tell you why....
Because here I am agonizing over getting rid of some bins of baby clothes and I am right now fully aware of FOUR brand new babies that are going to be coming into this world just shy of two months from now, needing exactly what I have stashed away in my basement for some imagined just in case scenario.
A page earlier Priscilla had hit me with this as well,
" The more you believe that God's grace to you is overflowing, the more you'll be convinced that you will always have everything you need. And the more certain you are that you'll never lack, the more willing and able you'll be to give of yourself and your resources when called for because you'll be certain God will always replenish your supply."
and how can I be sure that God's grace to be will overflow?
"God is able to make every grace overflow to you, so that in every way, always having everything you need, you may excel in every good work." (2 Corinthians 9:8).
Oh. That's how, it's right there in the Bible.
ahem.
So here's the way I'm looking at it... and this isn't to pat myself on the back. I share this because it has literally hit me with the profound truth of all of this...not because I somehow hold the corner on how this all plays out.
I don't need probably half of what I have.
Someone else needs some of what I have.
God wants me to use what I have for his glory not my own
If I don't have something it's because I probably don't really need it.
If I do have something it's because I probably need to help someone else with it somehow.
If I end up truly needing something else later on...God is able to fix me up...again....like He obviously already has.
I know it seems pretty simple but it can still be pretty hard to wrap my head around.
I'm not saying we all need to rid our homes of everything but toilet paper and water. Having things is not wrong, aquiring new things is not wrong... selling the old things instead of giving them away is not wrong...wanting things is not wrong....keeping things is not wrong.
What is wrong is hoarding things all to ourselves when really we will be so much freer if we just hand all those imagined just in case scenarios over to a Father who is able to supply them if they come to pass. What is wrong is being tight fisted and stingy and letting anxiety make us selfish.
and so now, my living room looks like it's thrown up....but you should see how clean my basement is.
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| No, this isn't my photo...I was too far away to get such a great shot .Source |
You know, someday they'll be old and we'll all be old and we'll still be going to the concerts, just us hard-cores. And we'll be like all those "tom toms" who still go nuts for Tom Jones.
She completely agreed, and we both laughed.
Why will we still be coming back?
For the same reason we've been coming back for the last 15 years.
Our history of loving Hanson is largely our history of loving music itself.
At the age of 11 I fell in love, not so much the way some girls did, with their lipstick covered posters of their teen idol faces.
I fell in love with the idea that there were these three young people who loved what they did so much that devoted their whole life to it and doing it well. Most people think Hanson dropped off the earth like so many other one-hit-wonders and yes, they may have fallen off the mainstream radar sometime after Mmmbop left the airwaves, (to their great benefit). But they continued on their own, crafting music that has grown and matured along with themselves and their following of die-hards that continue to show up for every show screaming, jumping, dancing, clapping and singing along every lyric to every song.
To paraphrase Taylor Hanson from an interview about a year ago, "if we weren't able to be creating and performing music to the crowds of fans that we are today, we would still be doing this anyway, only we'd be on the side of the road with a guitar case open in front of us. You have to be crazy to be in this industry, you literally have to love it enough to be crazy enough to do it."
That passion is what comes to life in Hanson's music and that energy is what comes to life when they perform. I've been lucky enough now to go to three shows with my (awesome and also enthusiastic) husband in the last 4 years and honestly, I have yet to be disappointed. (okay, fine at the show in Vancouver, the sound quality was terrible and we were all a little ticked that they took the stage so late...but we're a pretty forgiving lot, us "fansons").
Oh I know this is all gushy and slightly ridiculous...I rewrote this post several times and got choked up a couple times in the process...yes, also ridiculous I know, but I'm willing to take the fallout from revealing this. I know most of those who read this will think I'm off my rocker and never give a second thought to listening to, let alone deeply appreciating Hanson's music the way I do. Believe me, you don't have to...that's not why I wrote this.
I wrote this because all these years I have been poked fun at for this crazy devotion and always been a little abashed at putting into words exactly what it is that makes me such a nut for these guys. Anyway, I know I haven't done it all justice...but at least I tried.
On Friday night, singing along with every line of every song, I was hit by some pretty strong nostalgia. Sure Hanson wanders off the radar of my life for months at a time (after all, I do have a real life too) but I always circle back to their music and it definitely makes up the soundtrack of more than half of my life so far. There's something universal about music in that we all connect to it in this simple profound way and there are times when you hear a song and something about the notes or the words affect you and you think "Yes, I get that...I've felt that way too."
15 years of that feeling is why we'll keep coming back. 15 years of music being created because it mattered, that's why it matters still....that's why it will still matter then.
and that's why we'll keep coming back.
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| Smiles like this are a direct result of Hanson music...just so you know. source |
I'm one of those people who like to rush from place to place in my life; from stage to stage. When I was growing up, I was often called "an old soul" and it was true. I always longed to be more grown up than I was. When I was in highschool I couldn't wait to be in University. When I was in University I couldn't wait to be in a relationship and then married. As soon as I was married and had finished putting away our wedding gifts we started talking babies...as soon as the first baby came we decided we'd better build a bigger house. House was built...hardly finished... sold, second baby...moved to new house....the plans just never stop.
Now it looks like we may have a whole new set of plans that will take us in a new direction entirely in life. My husband really isn't ready for me to spilling beans on this blog here, but let's just say it's a whole new adventure I hadn't anticipated....and no, it's not a baby #3.
It's daunting to say the least, another 5 years before we can really be settled (settled? What's that?) and another move or two ...or....oh man, can I even do this?
It's really tempting to wish it was all over and I could settle into a new life five years from now, without having to go through all the transition that the next 5 might have to offer. Perhaps if I'm lucky I could squeeze my eyes shut really tight and pop them open to find that all the hard work and sacrifice that needs to go into the next few years will be over and I will have finally "arrived" at the destination toward which I have been hurtling myself since childhood; a made up scenario of what my life should really look like.
Except God doesn't like my shoulds very much, cause He's already rearranged a couple of them, closed some doors, opened others I didn't know I could walk through and given me gifts I never asked for.
Mostly I know He really doesn't like my plan of shutting down for the ride and wake me when it's over.
Countless times in His word God calls us to have hearts that are filled with contentment, and yes, it's often in the context of our physical needs and not longing for monetary wealth, but on a deeper level contentment also means being present and happy with our circumstances, not being impatient with our lives. We can't really rush the journey anyways, the only thing we succeed in is making ourselves anxious and miserable. We miss out on the little blessings and extraordinary gifts that are being lavished on us...right now.
What I'm really trying to say is that it has hit me how much I live my life for the next big thing rather than slowing down to just live life as it is right now. Both times I was pregnant with my children I spent so much of my heart on longing for their arrival and preparing for it, that I didn't spend as much on cherishing each little piece of just being pregnant.
These next few years will be a lot like being pregnant in the sense that it will be all about preparing and working for something that will come to fruition later. The real trick of living in contentment will be enjoy what is going on right now without needing it to be something else.
In the next five years my daughter will go from being 5 to being almost 11 years old. Those are some of her most important childhood years, I can't afford to blink let alone screw my eyes shut and will it over. My son will start school, start adventures of his own, both of my kids will need me to give them the consistency and home base that only a present and content mother can. My husband will need that too.
More and more I am realizing that right now is what matters most. My life may never get to look like my childhood daydreams....being settled may be something quite different than my expectations. It may just mean being settled and rooted no matter where life takes us. It may mean waking up each morning happy and content to just be right where we are....right now.
I just discovered how to create and publish on a fun website called polyvore. You can basically just browse through all the (mostly) cute and beautiful clothes and accessories they have there and pull together your own fantasy outfits....absolutely fun. You can also go there and like other's creations and follow those style makers who are making you want to go shopping. It's all for fun.
Look just below this post for my creation of the day today!....yes, this is what I wish I was wearing right this minute. Instead I am still in my pajamas.
A total waste of time?...perhaps, but fun to play with someone else's clothes for free before heading up to my own closet to stand there feeling like I have nothing to wear...
Anyway, that was fun.
Maybe sometimes I'll drop a little outfit in here when I'm feeling inspired or have just wasted the last half an hour on what could surely be another addictive website....sigh.
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| For starters, a big thanks to Oma for the birthday gift! |
This box of sticker tiaras has been sitting up in the cupboard since October. Every once in a while my daughter remembers that it's there and asks if we can pull it down and create some for ourselves. I'll admit, it hasn't been high on my list of projects to do.
First there was the Christmas rush that ran from October to the End of December...then there was the Christmas burnout which has lasted for all of January so far( I haven't even touched the sewing machine since Pickle's birthday party).
But today when those big green eyes implored me to please, please make sticker tiaras today... I was out of excuses.
Still, I came up with one anyway.
"Honey, I'm about to start making supper...how about we do it after supper tonight?"
"As soon as we're done?"
"Sure. As soon as we're done".
An hour and a half later I put my fork down and she was at attention, standing next to shoulder.
"It's after supper now...you promised, let's make Tiaras!!!!!"
I finished chewing, swallowed, and went to get the box. To her credit she helped clear the table.
And then we actually had a ton of fun. The stickers were all numbered and coincided with numbers that were printed in patterns all over the little foam tiaras so I figured it was actually a pretty educational activity for number recognition and patterns and sequences, not to mention fine motor control.(those stickers were tiny!)
But more importantly every thing was bright and sparkly and glittery and colored like rainbows...it was wonderful.
While we were plodding away at this time consuming feat (another plus in my book, because it kept my girl absorbed for almost an entire hour) we got to chat and sing and laugh together and that was really the best part of the whole exercise.
At one point my little girl began singing aloud along with me, old camp songs and ditties she's learning at school. She began improvising her own creations all songs about chocolate chips, putting on rain jackets and riding horses through golden skies....I didn't want it to end to be honest, and apparently neither did she.
" I just love chatting with you mom." she said. "Me too honey, me too."
"Isn't this just the best thing ever? I don't ever want to be done."
Yes, it sure is.
A week can bring a lot of things to pass. A week ago life looked quite a bit different than it does this morning. A week ago we were reeling from tragic news, headed off for hospital tests and hunkered down in -47 degree weather.
This morning I'm finally back at my computer, sitting in the sunshine of what promises to be a mild and beautiful day and although there's still broken hearts this morning there's also some closure and the memory of such a beautiful service and 800+ people who came to comfort and celebrate Auntie's life.
I know I feel blessed this morning. Coming off of such a wake of fear and uncertainty with my health, I am beginning to realize how richly blessed I am to have the life I have and how lucky I am to have my health for the most part.
Something about not being able to really function and take care of one's family is very demoralizing and frightening and now that I am having some days that are free of headache pain and dizziness I am feeling like anything is possible and everything is just stretched out before me waiting to be done. What a blessing that is, and one I never paid any attention to when I was taking my health for granted. Like everyone else I procrastinated and put off the chores I didn't want to do. I grumbled and complained about all the monotony and the sacrificial tasks done for my family that no one sees or appreciates.
Take away a mother's ability to do those things and suddenly they are all she wants to do. Last week I had to make some sort of snack for my daughter's kindergarten class and she wanted to use the horse-shaped cookie cutters I had put in her stocking for Christmas. A few weeks ago if you had asked me how jazzed I was to make 23 horse shaped sugar cookies on a Sunday night, I might not have had a very enthused answer. But I was determined to give this to my daughter, to let her see that life was still normal and she still had a mom who could do normal mom things because the previous week there'd really been just a whole lot of mom being unable to do pretty much anything.
As we mixed and stirred and sifted those cookies however I ended up being hit with such a dizzy spell that I had to lay down on the kitchen floor and send my little girl to go and run for her daddy so he could help finish the job. While she skipped off to do my bidding I lay on the floor and cried frustrated tears, so upset and afraid of what it meant to be a mom laying on the floor rather than rolling the rolling pin.
I am so blessed and happy to say that tentatively every day I seem to be climbing away from feeling that badly. Will it come back? I don't know? But for today I am able to wash my dishes and start my laundry and make supper for my husband.
A lot can change in a week. I have learned this before but my head is thick sometimes and it takes hard lessons to reteach this simple truth. Learning to let go and be unafraid, to take each day as it comes and to be thankful regardless of the unknowns...can I live like this? Overwhelmed simply by the fact that I am not in control but am being carried? Humbled and filled with gratitude to be able to work and serve?
Any given day of the week, I hope to say yes. Come what may.
Some days are just bad days.
Yesterday was a bad day.
Worse for some other people who are close enough to me for my heart to be hurting for them so badly in the wake of tragedy hitting them unexpectedly.
Yesterday as I fumbled around my house fighting the worst dizzy spells I've had yet I got a phone call from the School Bus driver who was sitting at my daughter's bus stop wondering where the heck I was and when I was coming to pick up my daughter.
"Seriously?" I looked at the clock, I have been having a hard time keeping track of certain things but we were trying to get out the door. I thought I had more time.
"Am I late?"
"umm...yes, you sure are." came the snippy reply.
I wanted to burst into tears and tell her that I was having a hard time even walking around my house and that my son was running and laughing from me while I tried to wrestle him into a snowsuit so I could walk to the bus stop to get my little girl. I wanted to tell her that the whole world was falling apart for members of my husband's family and that I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so low...mostly because I couldn't remember things very well these days. I wanted to snap back and tell her not to be pissy with me. I wanted to tell her she should rearrange the bus schedule so she could drop my daughter off right at home instead of 2 blocks away. But instead I stuffed my tears inside and mumbled that I was on my way and I proceeded to shuffle and stumble down the street with my baby boy in tow crying in the minus 30 wind chill.
I blubbered apologies to the bus driver and took Ava by the hand who immediately burst into tears. Everything she said was technically true and hopelessly skewed:
" I didn't get to be the big helper today at school because you didn't come and it was the worst day ever! It was such a bad day and then you forgot me at the bus stop!"
It was true, I had swapped helper days with another parent because I could hardly function and even more importantly my mother in law had to fly to New Mexico that morning and she needed to do that for the family emergency that was happening and that meant I needed to stay home with my son.
None of that mattered to my daughter's world. The grownups had let her down and that was NOT what grown ups were supposed to do.
Then she realized I hadn't brought the vehicle at about the same second that she realized it was really cold outside and more than a block to your house.
"C'mon" I urged her taking her by the arm of her coat. " Baby's cold, mama's cold, you're cold, let's just get home"
She wrenched away from me.
"NO! I'm MAD at you!",her hot tears freezing instantly on her cheeks.
I sighed heavily and got down on her eye level, steadying myself on the ground with my mittened hand, feeling faint.
"Look, it doesn't help to blame people. I'm sorry that this was such a hard day for you, I'm sorry that you had a bad day, but you can't blame me. It isn't my fault, now please let's get inside the house."
She started shuffling along with me as the little boy started fussing and crying cause his poor little face was turning red in the cold.
She let go of my hand and I continued to hurry along. She sobbed that I was leaving her on the street, that I didn't care about her.
Finally at the end of the drive way I turned around and yelled, "GET IN THIS HOUSE THIS INSTANT! YOU ARE BEING A BRAT!"
So I guess my tantrum wasn't any better than hers. I hauled her into the house and all three of us stood and sobbed and caught our breath and angrily threw our toques and mittens on the floor.
Later we talked and apologized and hugged and cuddled and had a bubble bath and all the things that make a bad day a little better. We went to bed early and held each other while we cried over sad news on the telephone. We said prayers in choked voices and felt humbled by the weight of how precious each and every day we have really is.
Whether we get to be the big helper or not, or get left on the school bus, whether we feel healthy or not, whether it's a freezing blizzard or a warm breeze, whether we are scared or frustrated or tired or overwhelmed, whether we are separated from loved ones or forced to say good bye. Whether we know the future or are facing the unknown, whether it was a good day or a bad day....
It was a day and we made it through it and we will make it through the next one too, That is my prayer for myself and for those I love who are hurting, that you will feel the presence of God and love that encircles and encompasses you, that you will be filled with a peace that surpasses all understanding and find the strength to make it through the worst days and the ones that follow.
Today is the first day that my life has been a little more normal this past week. Monday I started sliding and by Tuesday it was all kinds of weird here as I ended up first at the Doctor and then at the University Hospital visiting an urgent neurologist. Which sounds really scary and was pretty scary but we're all still in one peace (intended) and at least the doctor was able to tell me that I wasn't about to leave this world, even though for the past few days it felt like I might...at the very least fall off the edge of it I've been so darn dizzy that just getting around my house has been as much coping as I can do.
Even my ability to articulate sentences has been coming and going and I'll have periods of time (that are getting blessedly shorter and further apart) where I go completely stupid. Yes, it's frightening. I've also been remembering dreams from the past in such vivid detail that I can't remember whether they happened for real or not...pretty trippy, and apparently what can happen with severe migraine episodes like the one I had last week. The Neurologist thinks my brain has been sitting at a half a migraine for about a week now, thus all the weird symptoms and they've scheduled an MRI for me as soon as humanly possible (which is still a couple of weeks away) to determine why my brain has done what it has done. She surmised that it might take another migraine attack to reset my brain but thankfully it seems that instead it has decided to heal itself and slowly resolve it's issues....like I said a little freaky, but still a reassurance to know that I'm holding my own brain wise and I'm in no immediate danger.
That being said it's caused us to have some serious late night conversations about my prognosis and to take into consideration the doctors assertion that I need to perhaps make some very real lifestyle changes and decisions to better manage my condition. ( I don't have any bad habits per se, but with migraine disease...going outside in the wrong weather conditions can trigger one of these bizarre attacks).
The other big changes I need to make are in the area of fats, salt and caffeine. As in I need a lot more of each one. ....um, I beg your pardon? My tripping brain had a hard time figuring out what you said?
Yes, the anti seizure medication I've been prescribed causes weight loss...and I don't have much to lose, so I need to increase my calories and fat intake and my super low blood pressure needs me to consume more sodium. (as well as 3 litres of water a day! Oh mercy!). On top of all of that, the Neurologist wants me to start taking in caffeine everyday to see how it affects my migraines and my brain's ability to cope with the stupifying effects of the anti seizure med.
All of this leads me back to more doctor's appointments, a second consultation with another migraine specialitst and...alot of salty buttered popcorn. The other night I scarfed down a whole bowl by myself along with a coke and two butter tarts....nice huh?
And Kevin joined me...because well, who likes to binge alone?
Anyway, the finicky science of finding the needle in my haystack continues. I wasn't surprised to hear the specialist say what I've heard before several times now.
" Migraine disease is a diagnosis of exclusions. We weed out as many possible factors as we can and prescribe treatment basically through trial and error. Unfortunately in your case, we refer to your condition as complicated migraine disease and that means that finding those exclusions are ...complicated. In the meantime you feel like crap as we struggle towards finding a handful of possible solutions that can make you feel better until your brain decides to change all over again and we keep playing catch up."
Yep....that sounds about right.
But at least for today I have the energy to get dressed and tidy up my house...(tidy is a nice neat compact word...overhaul is maybe more the word my house's condition needs)...and I haven't had to grip the counter so far....these are good things, and now if you'll excuse me I have to go eat some bacon...and a large cappuccino.....
I started writing this post a few days ago and kept quitting half way through. I lacked the perspective to be able to put everything I wanted to say into words. I wouldn't say I have that perspective now either, but at some point in all it's imperfection, what rolling around inside me just has to find a way out.
It's a terrible feeling to be 26 and face something chronic, unfixable and barely manageable. I've fought this for the last few years, telling myself I would be one of the lucky few people who just needed some simple solution that had been overlooked, that some miracle cure was going to come along and fix the migraine disease that instead of getting better, seems to bullying it's way into more and more areas of my life and my healthy well days seem to tipping in the balance on the wrong side.
It's a hard thing to admit that one's body is not trustworthy, that it is letting me down when I need it most, that it is not reliable and not easily fixable either. A condition like mine takes a lot of patience and investigation; I suffer from complicated migraine disease with Aura and Hemiplegic Migraines. Which basically means a long with the debilitating symptoms I have been suffering the last few years (extreme pain, loss of vision, nausea, vomiting, an inability to function and stroke-symptoms) last week I had my first fake seizure.
I had just come home from a promising doctor's appointment that morning; I had a referral to a specialist, some new medication to try and some promising leads to help me get a bit of my life back from these painful and frightening attacks. I've been suffering migraines since I was a little girl with only a few breaks here and there in my life, some lasting a couple of years, in the last 5 years, only a few months here and there that were migraine free. But that was the first time I'd suffered a hemiplegic migraine and it really shook me up.
I was frustrated and deflated, overwhelmed at how I could feel so encouraged one moment and only a few short hours later be struggling to form the words to talk to my daughter while laying on the couch unable to feel the right side of my body or move it. Once the feeling came back to my face I realized I'd been crying, so upset at why God could seem to be answering my prayers and then still hand me this heavy load of struggle. The anxiety of attacks like this has complicated my condition further, creating a vicious cycle of panic attacks that trigger migraines and migraines that trigger panic attacks. Being stuck between a rock and a hard place doesn't begin to describe how I've been feeling. I feel strung out and worn out and very low on my faith and optimism.
On one hand I wonder is their some solution that's still eluding me. Am I not exercising enough? (thanks to my generous In-Law family giving me a treadmill that belonged to my husbands grandmother, I've been able to run 5 times a week again which does help) Is there something wrong with what I'm eating? (Another vicious cycle to not feeling well, is not having the energy to properly prepare foods for myself).
Or is it more intimate than that? Is it my faith that's lacking or sin that needs weeding out? I don't really think so, but believe in the dead of night when nothing about this makes sense I have cried out to God to reveal to me, what I can't seem to see clearly myself.
It's hard not to feel desperate and despondent, ignored and uncared for. I identify with the Psalmist crying in Chapter 6: 2-3 "Have mercy upon me, O Lord; for I am weak: O Lord heal me for my bones are vexed. My soul is also sore vexed, But thou O Lord, how long?" (KJV)
I keep praying that I will see some way that God will glorify himself in all of this, that I will find the elusive mystery to "counting it all as joy". I have decided t Psalm 73 :26 will be my life preserve for now, the tether that keeps me somehow grounded so that when my head is filled with pain and confusion, when my limbs feel weak and shaky or I can't feel anything at all, I can still the rising panic and have something to whisper back to the pressing darkness.
It sometimes seems like I only have half of the answer to my prayers, Sometimes it seems like I see less than half of what is really going on, and I know I see much less than a fraction of where this will all lead or how God will bring help to me. But in the deepest part of me I will cling to my faith that indeed He will and He will prove himself sufficient for me; a strength to not only my body but my heart and He will be a sufficient portion to me.
Even if it feels like only a small piece to me.
Can it still be peace?
I pray that it can.
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| What is this cake stuff, and where has it been all my life? |
My lovely little niece Pickles turned one just before Christmas and we all had a party to celebrate on the weekend. It was one of the loveliest parties I'd been to, all low key and intimate and not too long for the little ones in attendance to get over tired or go into hysterics.
The gifts were all lovely too. Wooden dolls for a playhouse, a vintage sourced doll cradle and highchair from the birthday girl's mommy, a tutu from one auntie and a quilted quiet time book from this auntie.
It was probably the most difficult and time consuming project I have ever attempted but also one of the most enjoyable projects I've ever endeavored as well.
When we were little girls my sister and I had one Auntie in particular (who is a reader of mine too, I love you Auntie Shirley) who made us the most beautiful handmade dresses, pillows and yes, a quiet book for my older sister. For reasons, not divulged here, she doesn't have that quiet book today, so I decided months ago, that I would be the Auntie to fix that situation and make sure Pickles got a quiet book from an Auntie too.
Here are some of the pages I created.
Please take into account that I am very much a beginner sewer and I made more mistakes than even I have the humility to point out.
The book is based on the changing of the seasons and has the classic fine motor activities of weaving, zipping a zipper, tying a bow, lacing a shoe, doing up buttons etc.
Wouldn't you know it was such a hit with all the other guests that there have already been inquiries that perhaps I will try my hand at it again for them too? That's an exciting prospect, considering it will give me the chance to use all the knowledge I've learned the hard way and try out some new ideas.
if anyone wants to see the rest of the pages, let me know and I'll post them too!
I wasn't quite ready to put everything away when the Christmas Tree was heaved out and hewn up last week. I couldn't part with all the touches that adorned the house, reminding me how only days ago, all the world seemed to still with a wonder and mystery almost tangible in the air. I guess I wasn't ready to let go of the "magic" of Christmas yet. I was suspended and didn't want to slough it all off, trudge back into the work-a-day attitude of the new year. I wanted to linger here, where my heart skipped a beat and my throat caught a little. Where my eyes felt misty and the stillness seeped into the fabric of my heart.
Sometimes it's easy to get let down when all the waiting comes suddenly to an end, when the calendar page turns.
So I kept the Nativity up a little longer to celebrate Epiphany this year. I stayed longer upon the story of the small family of three and the story of the wise men who traveled in search of something they couldn't understand, but knew was worth their risk and their adoration.
This new year of 2012 I feel already that I am clinging to the Scripture that claims that "If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all generously and without reproach, and it will be given to him". (James 1:5 NAS)
I'm looking for my own epiphany I guess, and I feel I'm on a journey following what often feels like a faint star in the distance. Opening my eyes, my ears, and my heart to be lead to the feet of majesty, to lay my own gifts before God and be directed where He wills.
I'm surrendering to His timing more, I'm submitting to the call of that which I don't completely understand and I'm placing one foot in front of the other with more faith as he grants it to me in grace.
I'm humbled by the story of epiphany, they may not have been kings, and they may not have been from the orient and we have no way of knowing that there were only three of them, but of course that's not what matters about their story. What matters is that they set out and headed for a mystery that was worth following and what they found was worth all the searching...is worth all the searching of today.
And that's a wonder and majesty that doesn't get forgotten just because it's time to pack all the tinsel away. It's an inspiration that I want to last all the year, a light in the darkness leading me always closer to King of the Universe made Emanuel...
I think trail mix in the bulk bins at the grocery store is somewhat horrid.
The stale taste, the dried little chunks of mystery fruit, the peanut salt that makes it's way onto everything
and the price is just a little horrid too.
So we made our own. I picked up a couple ingredients while out shopping but everything else came from what was in the pantry already and somehow those ingredients aren't as stale and nasty when you buy them individually; probably because they get bought more often and therefore replaced, where as the bins of trail mix are kind of like a fruit cake that sits and ages...(although some people actually like old fruitcake which is kind of crazy to me...no offense all you old fruitcake lovers...)
Anyway, I digress...
We came home and we chopped up all manner of apricots, prunes and raisins. We dumped in unsalted roasted peanuts and sunflower seeds and pumpkin seeds and granola clusters. For kicks we threw in the last of the boxes of cereal that were hanging out in the depths of the pantry shelf and for color and the sheer joy of it, we threw in the mini m and ms that we meant to use to decorate a gingerbread house and never did.
The trail mix was a huge hit. I put it all in a big airtight bin and now my little snackers nibble away at bowls of it all day. They come to me begging for snacks every half an hour and in the past where I used to have to rummage and forage about lost for ideas of what to continuously feed them, now I simply point at the large airtight bin and minutes later we are all satisfied.
Yes, I would say this is the face of trail mix satisfaction.
Do you have a favorite trail mix combination for your family too?
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