Jewel-encrusted Crowns

...are what Keith and Teman deserve. (Never mind that the mental picture of either of them wearing a crown is incongruous.)

My Husband Loves Me

 He probably paid a mint for this encouraging message.

Henry and Bumpkin

It's hard to believe, and time's flown so fast, but Henry and Mildred have been man and wife for nearly six months. 

(All photos above taken by Miss Danielle B.-- friend and photographer extraordinaire.)

(Cue small violin.) While we are so thankful God has joined them with fine, godly (kind! smart! talented! handsome!) husbands, Mildred and Annika living ten hours away has not become easier. In some ways, it's become harder.

Part of the reason it's become harder, however, is simultaneously somethingone we rejoice over!

You guessed it-- Tim and Annika's baby Glory-Girl has been joined by a little cousin! We couldn't be happier to welcome this little life into the world.

Sweetpea's presence is finally becoming obvious on this beautiful woman, and a post is long past due. 

We praise God for this little one, and we pray for Henry, Mildred, and their wee baby, whom we love so much already, sight unseen. <3

We Want a King

Well, Dad-- 

If old habits die hard,
you bear some blame 
when I take the bait, 
open my mouth,
and let hounds race
baying from my lips.

But tonight, it's mine.

I chased those hounds down
driving home in the dark,
as rain-slick shapes made me start.

Ten years today
since you were gone.
In blue-moon light,
I still send dogs barking, 
but there's no thrill to this hunt. 

What did we seek
past the gleam of sharp wit
and sharp words?
Each solid hit is empty 
if it lands on one you love.

Time and loss taught me 
what nothing else did.
Peel back pride, and
only love remains.

--  We miss you, still and until. 

Real Time

Overheard upstairs this morning while Cadence and Skylark were cleaning the room five children share:

Cadence, frustrated with her little sister's lukewarm work ethic, "Skylark! You are so lazy! You're the laziest person in the whole United States! Even THE PRESIDENT does more work than you!!!"

(I have no idea where she gets the idea that the President twiddles his thumbs all day, but, apparently, she thinks it's a pretty cushy job.)

Aunt Karen!

This one's for  you. I haven't even posted LAST year's Hallowe'en costumes, but here's this year's Hallowe'en gif (current! real-time! up-to-date!) to tide you over until I stop wasting time in other ways and start wasting time blogging again.

Please Pray

 ..for this wonderful and one-of-kind woman.

We celebrated our beloved Grandma Owen's 75th birthday a few weeks early this past Saturday. All the grandchildren sneaked into town for the occasion, and she met and held Tim and Annika's baby-- grinning Glory-girl-- for the first time. We're all thankful beyond measure for an evening circled around the warm and generous woman who is quite often the founder of our feasts. 

We covet your prayers for her right now, as her body is currently struggling to fight off the leukemia. Please pray for God to cover her with peace and, in His good pleasure, to sustain and strengthen her body. We love her so very much. <3

Twenty-three Years Yesterday

October 6th!

I would never and could never have dreamed this:
our children, our girls and their husbands, our grandbabies.

I'm grateful for this unimagined life, and for you, their Papa,
my Heart, a best friend from then 'til now.

(Picture of John, me, and Mallory-within, taken by the incomparable Danielle B. at Annika's wedding last October.)

Real Time On-a-Roll

 Today during church Lark started sobbing because she misses Annika. This happens every so often. Then tonight at supper, when we were discussing dreams, she brought up the dream she hates-- a recurring dream in which she and Annika are walking together, and Annika falls off a cliff (also an every-so-often). Ever the helper, Zeke offered some advice to her in a chiding tone, " Skylark-- you need to think about joyful things, like ice cream...and peanut butter sandwiches."

Make Your (Homeschooling) Mother Proud

 A daughter just informed me that when someone at a coffeehouse last night asked Zeke what grade he was in, he replied, "I'm going into seventh grade, but I'm basically in fourth."

And here I sit, laughing and crying simultaneously....

A Letter to Those Who Love Me

I bind unto myself to-day, 

The pow'r of God to hold, and lead, 

His eye to watch, His might to stay, 

His ear to hearken to my need 

The wisdom of my God to teach, 

His hand to guide, His shield to ward; 

The word of God to give me speech, 

His heavenly host to be my guard. 

 

The first time I heard "St. Patrick's Breastplate," I was transfixed, and it remains my favorite hymn. If someone asked me why, I would be loath to pick apart the reasons. I don't even know if I could. It resonates somewhere deep within me where logic is secondary and intuition moves. It beautifully and powerfully speaks both the mystery and the security of our faith-- both the mystery of our God and right confidence in Him.

As many of you know, I'm recovering from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. The rupture occurred because I chose to wait until the baby died before undergoing life-saving surgery. I'm grateful for the fervent prayers on my behalf both from those who understand this decision and those for whom my decision brought great distress. Amid the commotion and noise of providers attending to me as I hemorrhaged, I clearly remember repeating, "Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy." Our God did have mercy; praise His name.

This is the second time in my life a baby has grown next to my left fallopian tube. Ectopic pregnancies occur in about every 1 in 80 pregnancies. By rights, John and I should have 160 children, but we only made it to 11 on earth before another baby settled in the same place, even though there was no residual scarring or impediment from the first pregnancy to explain it. It took me two years to write about my experience the first time around. This time, not even 2 days have passed, and here I am writing about it. I never imagined when I wrote 17 years ago, "If we were in this situation again, nothing would change," that we would actually ever be in this situation again. If I had known at that point, I would have been afraid to face it, even though in the last week, I felt not the smallest hint of fear. God seems to pour out His mercy only when one has the most acute need for it. 

I just got home last night and haven't had time to process the events of the last few days, but nonetheless I feel a burden to write this, mostly to those who remain unsettled about my decision. This post is unequivocally not a statement on what I believe every woman in this morally difficult situation should do; it's an attempt to store some of what the last few days have meant for me and my family. I want to communicate part of an inexplicable mystery-- the surety that surrounded me and God's peace that suffused every mote of my experience. I'm also afraid that if I wait longer, the immediacy of God's great goodness will be diluted by the everyday, and I'll begin to take it for granted.

I don't know quite what I'm going to write. This is not a reasoned defense. In fact, I don't want it to be a defense at all. Those of you who struggled most with my decision were kind enough to pray for me and not argue with me, so I thankfully don't have a list of points to defend. Instead, here are isolated bits of information from the last week, which I experienced as intimately connected parts of a homogeneous whole. Even though I don't know how this will be anything other than a jumbled compilation of moments, may God use it to give a measure of peace to those of you who were and are most troubled by my decision. 

Speaking the value of my baby's "doomed" life during my first ectopic pregnancy 19 years ago was often traumatic, and I felt at times like a wounded animal hunting for a hollow log. This time, due to the circumstances of seeing new providers in a changing e.r., I had to explain the situation many more times-- multiple times to multiple providers. I felt no uncertainty and no fear, and it was a joy to boldly and lovingly speak truth. During my initial visit to the e.r. seeking confirmation of the ectopic pregnancy, some of my friends from church were taking part in a local pregnancy center's fundraising Walk for Life. I hadn't planned to take part in it because John had to work, and we currently have no functioning vehicle large enough for the rest of us. As I sat pleasantly chatting with the women checking me in and the friendly triage nurses, sharing my delight in my large family, the joy of children, and the love John and I share, I realized that God was using me to speak for life as my friends walked for it. The fact that I had eleven children and wasn't even complaining about them was a point of wonder for one nurse, especially. 😂

After the ultrasound confirmed the baby's location, I was glad John was with me for support as we went to speak to the doctors, grateful that he could step in and communicate for me if I was unable. Instead, I found myself speaking calmly and confidently about the Giver of Life and the Receiver of Life, confirming my knowledge of the physiological reality of the situation while at the same time standing for the value of my little one and my place in it all as a created being myself.

Before I continue, let me reiterate that John was just that- my steady support . After the ectopic pregnancy was confirmed, I revisited Aquinas's Doctrine of Double Effect, which is most often used as the moral defense for removing the baby to save the mother's life, and I asked John what his thoughts were. He was unable to speak and told me to act as I needed to act. He stood lovingly by me, but he did not influence my decision. 

I read again about the principle of double effect from multiple sources not because I was uncertain, but to give a fair chance to those praying for me to choose surgery, for them to know that I was not choosing as I did out of ignorance or stubborn adherence to a simplistic view of things, but rather because I could do no other. My decision was not based on scriptures cobbled together but from a deep belief that the placement of my baby was no accident, that God's creation of my baby was deliberate and right, and that my baby's small reach of days brings glory to his or her Creator. I was unable to have any place in ending this God-given life, even as an unintended effect, even hours short of when God would take that baby to Himself. This is no defense. It is simply truth.

On Tuesday, I spoke to a new e.r. doctor while waiting for that day's ultrasound results. He was an older gentleman who chose his words with care and did his best to convince me that surgery was the higher moral choice. I tried to communicate with equal care in return. Several hours later, as I was hemorrhaging on an e.r. table, he was present and again tried to reason with me regarding the moral implications of waiting for the baby's death before proceeding with surgery. I never imagined I would be engaging in conversation of moral philosophy while rapidly losing blood, but to pull a line from St. Patrick's Breastplate, I felt "the word of God give me speech" in a situation where I could not choose to do so. After responding to him, I breathlessly apologized that I could not give consent for surgery until an ultrasound confirmed the baby's death. He said, "It is what it is," and left the room disappointed. 

And that's just it. 

It is what it is.

I can do no other.

In the last week, we have been upheld by the body of Christ and by the prayers of the saints, petitions from those earthly saints who love me, and, thanks to the Roman Catholic Christians who love me, prayers to the saints, as well. Even though my situation was small in some ways, God gathered His people from different corners of doctrine together in prayer, many of whom I do not know, cannot name, and will never meet outside of Heaven. In all of this, surrounded by prayer, I felt nothing but surety, utter confidence in God's right work, and overwhelming, undisturbed peace. This "perfect peace" was inexplicable. My complete confidence in God's care for me was an abrupt and unexpected gift. Without going into detail, I have felt cut off from His care for the last 18 months, pouring myself out like water in a barren season of separation, unable to trust that the Father's good will can feel again like a fruitful gift. 

As soon as my baby's placement was confirmed, instead of anxiety, instead of uncertainty, instead of indecision, I felt peace and utter trust in the Father I have not felt able to trust in much smaller things for quite some time. Not once did this peace or confidence waver. My faith was seamless, and I assure you it was not due to piety. It was a free gift given to a little child, and this is the Mystery.

I was supposed to stay in the hospital for a day longer than I actually did. The morning after my surgery, I sat in the post-op room for a few hours before asking a nurse if there was a chance I could be discharged, and she said she'd check to see if the on-call ob. could come down and examine me. It was several hours more until he did so, and he arrived in an obvious rush, with laboring women several floors up waiting for his return.

He must have looked at my chart before coming in, though, because he immediately asked if I knew of St. Thérèse of Lisieux--"The Little Flower." Though I am not a Roman Catholic, I was familiar with her through conversations with my sister-in-law Sarah and John. As he gave me a perfunctory examination before signing the discharge papers, he said in heavily accented tones, "Her feast day is coming soon at the end of the month; she is a Doctor of the Church-- she is a spiritual friend of mine." He expressed sorrow that I had to go through this experience. Even in his hurry, his demeanor toward me was so gentle and caring, with an underlying compassionate understanding that could only come from a fellow Christian. We did not need to confirm our faith to each other-- mine was apparent to him from my place as a mother of eleven and the events leading to my surgery, and his was apparent to me just as easily. Fifteen minutes later, as we were waiting for the nurse to bring discharge paperwork, he poked his head through the curtain and said, "Here, I brought you this." It was a prayer card of The Little Flower, known for her "Little Way" and for her confident trust in God as loving Father. This small event spoke profoundly to me, as it was a tangible bridge between me and some I love who cannot see my decision as right.

Shortly before my tube ruptured, not knowing how soon he or she would be with the Father, I whispered to the baby, speaking the love that mothers speak to babies growing within them and also expressing thanks to God for His deliberate and good creation of life. I remain thankful and confident in this. 

I'm grateful for the skilled hospital providers who cared for me, down to the anesthesiologist who shared warm memories of being one of 8 children with a mother who was "always cooking," the surgeon who performed the surgery and spoke to me with kindness, the many people who interacted with us during our time in the hospital, and, mostly, to you all for prayers for my protection and your love for me, John, and the children. 

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

Real Time Riddle Me This

 

What kind of dummy-head impulsively buys six gallons of paint to repaint half their downstairs without bringing any paint chips home first??!!

You've got one guess.

Real Time

 Ransom just washed his hands and ran to me, "Mama! I saw a 'pider next to the sink!" I asked if it was a Daddy Longlegs, and he replied, "He was little, and he had no hands, but he DID have daddy long legs."

Real Time Phrom the Phone

 Sleeping Beauty.

Real Time

 
I was changing Mallory's outifit while Aidan kneeled next to us cooing and fawning over her.  He paused to look at me sympathetically and said, "I'm sorry to say this, Mama, but I love Mallory more than you." He continued, "She's just CUTER and SWEETER and FATTER!"

Real Time-- How to be a Prepper, Baby Clothes Edition

The children and I just got back from a rummage sale. Deborah had arrived there about an hour before we did, and she'd set aside some gorgeous children's clothes for us-- some brand new with tags!

When we got home, [Redacted] saw a dress that Debbie had picked up for Mallory and fell in love with it, halfheartedly trying to convince me to set it aside for her someday (Lord willing) baby. I refused to, one-- because Debbie thought of Mallory and not a nonexistent baby when she found it, two-- I love the dress and want my baby to wear it, and, most importantly-- [REDACTED] IS [REDACTED] YEARS OLD, UNMARRIED, AND HAS NO BABY."

When I pointed out this minor truth to her, she sighed, "Yeah, well, I'll probably never get married."

"Exactly!" I replied, "So why on earth would I save this dress for you?"

"I'll adopt!" was the cheery rejoinder.

I countered with, "Your baby deserves a father...." to which she smoothly replied, "Well, I'm going to adopt a husband first."

Real Time Phrom the Phone

 ...because our six-month old baby doesn't know that she's not supposed to be doing these things yet.

For Pete's sake, Baby.
Thanks for entirely skipping those precious months when you're supposed to be cuddling with your mama!!!

(And before she even turned 6 months, she was pulling herself up like this. 😭)

And just because she looks goofy in all these pictures, here's another one from the phone in which she looks like the beautiful baby she is. 

Real Time: Watch Out There

 

Skylark, just now, singing to Mallory, "You are cute, you are cute, cute, cute, cuuuute. You are the cutest baby, you are the cuuuutest baby." She abruptly stopped singing and asked, "Who do you think the second cutest baby is, Mama?" followed immediately by, "I know. Jesus.", followed immediately by a long pause as she realized that she just said Mallory's cuteness exceeded Jesus', "Jesus is the cutest baby. Mallory is the second-cutest."

(Just between us, I still think she believes Mallory is the top cutest baby in the world.)

12 Month Mark : Full Fathom Five

It's been one year, and the sea change remains.

Still waiting on the rich and strange.

I Can Blog and Make Wedding Lollipops at the Same Time!

 Before bed, Luci came and shared the following gem from Aidan.

Aidan (of course): Hey, Luci! I already know the answer, but would you rather be bald, go to a million parties, and be in the newspaper, or would you rather have Mallory? 

Luci has already been in the newspaper, so as enticing as a bald pate is, she chose Mallory.

Real Time

Aidan loves, loves, loves Mallory. He dotes on her, changes her outfits, carries her about, and tries not to squeeze her too hard.

He just came into the room and said, "I want only one thing more than Mallory in the whole world, and that's God, but that's the ONLY thing I'd want more than Mallory. If I could be king of the world and have everything OR have Mallory, I'd pick Mallory."

I guess he's learned something good since I took the video on this post. 

(And Annika announcing the chicken conference at the end still makes me laugh!)

Cartography of the Blind

If an award for World's Most Conflicted Blogger existed, I'd be a shoo-in for first place. The last nine months-worth of snapshots molder away inside the computer, with a scant chance of seeing blogging daylight anytime soon.

They aren't the only thing that's moldering. During the last year, wrinkles have deepened, gray hairs have doubled, and I just feel older, although objectively I know I'm merely middle-aged. I still feel ✨sparky✨half of the time, and I have much for which I am deeply grateful.

But I'm struggling. In the space of a year, the future I took for granted disappeared, and we all discovered that the place in which we intended to dwell never existed.

No good comes of mucking about in the Slough of Despond, but one can lose hope in heartache. People who don't, won't, or can't understand may interpret the sorrow as self-pity or as an overly dramatic response to the commonplace. Children often move far away, grandchildren often are distant, and we often don't see those we love as much as we'd like. The truth is, though, that the commonplace is where deepest joy and sorrow are found-- birth, death, and everything in between. And distance is hard. The ties that bind us to those we love must, of necessity, evolve when distance lies between. Loving someone who lives within easy driving distance is different than loving someone who does not, and it's ignorant of anyone to believe otherwise. 

I've not yet learned how to say goodbye to the common gift of growing relationships in the flesh-- inviting grown children and their families over for dinner, being present for baptisms and birthdays, making impromptu visits to help plant gardens, and reading books to grandchildren while their parents are on a date; all these were assumptions that were never promised but that I never imagined living without. And I don't know how to truly comfort those still here. Mapping out a land unseen is impossible, so I guess we're not supposed to make maps. Are God's lessons always like this?

I write this, of course, recognizing that the sadness of distance is a minor thing compared to the unimaginable circumstances of so many. I also know that those mighty and unimaginable hardships require the Lord to pour unusual amounts of grace onto those who bear them. Our small burden, perhaps, is not due that pouring out of grace but is just something one must learn to carry.

Posting light-hearted commentary on shotsnaps seems dishonest without marking what has great effect on family and friends, but writing anything about it seems wrong, too. In some ways, this is a terrible season for blogging. Who wants to read maudlin posts from the teary-eyed World's Most Conflicted Blogger? Not me. I don't even want to write them. I do want to start catching up on posts eventually, though, mostly to fill in the gaps in what has been our only family album for almost 20 years now. (Ulp. Yes, twenty years. It's no wonder life has me moldering.)

Of course there are good things.
Good things never cease.

I've posted no snapshots of Tim and Annika's beautiful wedding and of their overpoweringly smiley smiles, no artful photographs of daily beauty (because I stopped taking any), no consistent pictures of lovebirds Mildred and Henry (who get married in FOUR WEEKS AND ONE DAY), no snapshots and stories of our goofy and fun little children, no testament to the good days that have brightened the whole, and nearly no pictures of Mallory Mirth, even though she's one of the most delightful babies we've ever loved! I said it about Skylark and then about Ransom, but I was dead wrong. 

Mallory Mirth is the best last baby.

So while I've moved on to speaking of good things and lovebirds and babies...
God gave the best gift to Tim and Annika shortly after their marriage.

Say "hullo, hi, howdy" to Baby Tiger-Fish!!!

 

These pictures from early December make up for the "Mother Buttons Up Daughter's Wedding Dress"pictures I did not get with Annika on her wedding day because I was running around like a lunatic unleashed.  Really, now, how can you top "Middle-Aged Mother Compares Baby Belly to Daughter's?"

And Baby Tigger has only grown since, along with those smiles that can't realistically grow any bigger than they already are. 

Praise God for new life. We are so grateful for this little baby!

(*Obviously all pictures of Annika or Tim&Annika were taken by Tim...or Annika. I stole them all from her texts.)

Real Time

 Children are like fertilizer for one's ego.

Mysterious Unidentified Daughter: "I'm like...all the weird and bad parts of you."

(Anyone who guesses correctly surely knows our family in real life, ha!)

Real Time

I'm in the room adjoining the one in which 3 little girls and one Aidan are playing with birthday dolls.

Little girl: Who's theeeere?

Aidan, dopey-voiced: Prince Charming.

Little girl, disgusted tone: YOU again?!

Probably Just Sunday

Beads of dun spill out unseen 

While you walk laughing on the way. 

Heedless of what lands in dust, 

You have enough and more to spare. 

You string each one along coarse thread, 

A knobby line of common clay.

A line that lengthens as it must,

I try but can't avert my stare. 

And my hand aches 

From six bright stones, sharp-edged. 

The gems I grip are fine and rare, 

With colors fit for festal days, 

Yet I would trade with joy and haste 

For those you drop without a care.

Something New

**

**

*

Well, it's not exactly new, since Henry proposed last month, but as you can see from their flashing grins (and the flash of that lovely ring on Mildred's finger), our precious girl is moving toward life with someone she loves.

When she came home after meeting Henry for the first time, Millie told me, "He reminds me of the Terry boys!" Since she loves the Terry-boy cousins with her steadfast loyalty, we should have known. Last March, Henry called John to ask his permission to "get to know" Millie, and that's all it took. They got to know each other better, liked what they learned, and knew after 6 months that they'd like to marry each other. Henry was kind enough to my poor heart to delay the proposal until a few months after Annika left for life with Tim in VA, but when it arrived, their engagement was not a surprise

All of life is full of Big Things, but I'm at a loss when it comes to blogging this time with its potent mix of deep joy and deep heartache. Since she'll be getting married in three months and moving to NC, though, her engagement needs a marker on here so distant readers aren't surprised if I post wedding pictures someday. 

I guess all that needs to be said is that we are grateful that God saw fit to give Henry and Mildred the gift of each other, and we pray for them both as they approach the start of their life together. And that's the truth.

 

(All photos by Rebecca, except for the one with an *, which was taken at Annika's wedding by Danielle, and **, which are post-engagement selfies)