Probably Just Sunday
AN OUTRAGEOUS WASTE OF TIME AND TYPE
Spun by Abigail on Monday, February 26, 2024 2 cobweb(s)
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)
Spun by Abigail on Friday, February 16, 2024 6 cobweb(s)
I just got a call from a woman who follows up on every baby born in our county. If I'd known it was that sort of call, I would have just ignored it entirely, but I thought it might be the pediatrician's office.
In the course of our brief exchange, both of us politely enduring a boring conversation, she informed me that she was available as a consultant for any parenting or nursing questions I might have about my newborn.
After congratulating me on Mallory's birth, she then (presumably) looked down at the paperwork she had regarding Mallory and muttered, "It says here that....well, THAT can't be right."
I waited in silence, and then she continued with a chuckle, "It says here that she's your 11th live birth."
"Why, yes, it CAN be right!" I replied, grinning.
The rest of the conversation wrapped up pretty quickly.
Spun by Abigail on Tuesday, January 02, 2024 6 cobweb(s)
2024 is nearly here, and I haven't blogged half of 2023. It was a hard year, which is hard to blog.
I bought the fanciest camera I'll ever own, and I've almost entirely stopped taking pictures.
I've come nearer than I ever have to closing up shotsnaps for good, and it's a mass of loose threads and gaping holes. Before the new year elbows out the old, though, I want to share a few crummy phone photos of the best part of the year, with more story to come in the future if I ever follow through on good intentions. (Elizabeth Frances! These are for you!)
Mallory Mirth practically fell into our arms on December 14th, and John and I marveled at her as if she was our first baby. This sweet girl of ours is a full-heart-spilling-over gift to two middle-aged geezers and their children, and we are full of love and gratitude.
The best papa. I love this man.
And here's an almost real-time photo Millie just took on her phone.
Spun by Abigail on Wednesday, December 27, 2023 9 cobweb(s)
We recently discovered that Pitterpat is a smushed baby elephant! Adjusting our expectations accordingly and accounting for a much longer gestational period than one plans on for humans, we're now anticipating introducing our new arrival by 🎄December of 2024🎄.
Stay tuned! Baby elephants are worth the wait!
Spun by Abigail on Saturday, December 09, 2023 6 cobweb(s)
Apologies to those of you who sent emails and letters asking about access. I'm not ready to blog, but I opened the gates because I'd like those near and far to pray for our beloved Grandma Owen. Last Friday, I took this last-hurrah picture of Annika with everyone wearing flannels Grandma gave them, last Saturday, Tim and Annika joyfully joined hands in marriage, and last Sunday, Dudette received a diagnosis of acute myeloid leukemia as the explanation for her recent health troubles. Her diagnosis came almost exactly nine years to the day after my dad received his diagnosis of the same, and the timing is baffling. Today, Annika moved to her new home 10 hours away, and Dudette begins her first treatment.
Please pray for the Lord to comfort her, Dude, her children, her grandchildren, and the whole family-- to wrap them in peace in an uncertain time-- and, in His good mercy, to strengthen and restore her body. <3
Spun by Abigail on Monday, October 30, 2023 7 cobweb(s)
I dreaded how fast three months would disappear, but I didn't account for variables that would make days fly even faster, and crunching numbers makes it worse.
Everything became wedding preparation. I stopped counting hours spent weeding at the farmhouse once I hit 30, I only count hours spent cleaning and setting up the venue there because it earns income to put toward the wedding, and I never even began counting the hours spent sitting on my duff in front of a computer doing wedding stuff because I can't count that high.
By the time they return next week, Millie and Annika will have spent 35 of the last 71 days down south or out of the country. I know because I just counted. When they're home, they're gone at work for half the time, and Susannah has joined the ranks of working women, too. Garden produce sits neglected in the autumn garden, fruit flies rule our kitchen, the songbirds have flown, cricketsong grows strident, and Annika gets married and moves in a little over a month. Our family rhythm is broken, and I'm lost somewhere here in the middle waiting for a new song to start up.
I'm grateful that at the beginning of the year, John planned some specific family days for this summer, because they've allowed scattered time to soak each other up before these days are gone. I want to slow down and savor what we have left, but we're careening helplessly along, and the rowers keep on rowing (and they're certainly not showing any signs that they are slowing).
So have at it.
July's on deck, and August is in the hole.
Spun by Abigail on Saturday, September 09, 2023 4 cobweb(s)
Spun by Abigail on Saturday, September 09, 2023 1 cobweb(s)