Resisting Sleep So here I am, resisting sleep. It seems like my days are spent focusing on the kids so much and their needs that when they go to sleep, I get my second wind...wide eyed and awake until the wee hours wondering what the heck I'm doing and why the heck I'm doing it. I almost become euphoric thinking about it all. It usually starts when I'm getting Zachary ready for bed and nursing and rocking him to sleep. I start to think, I could find that missing (fill in item here) that I haven't seen in months. I'm convinced it is located (fill in location here). I know I can find it - never mind I've been looking for that same item in the same three locations for 3 months. I could write in my journal, update both kid's baby books, organize pictures, read the five books collecting dust in my night stand, read through the latest Ikea catalog, Pampered Chef catalog, all while randomly flipping through the latest Parents and Parenting magazine. (Seriously, why the heck don't those two magazines just merge? They copy each other's articles every month and you can barely tell them apart on the newsstand...different font doesn't count.) As soon as Zachary is in bed and I've snuggled with Kayla for a few minutes, I step into this Mommy's paradise...NIGHTTIME!!! I fully intend to do the things mentioned above, but I turn on my laptop to innocently check email and suddenly I'm shopping for makeup...I'm learning more about a perfume I just tried on at the store, I'm checking the tracking number on my latest Amazon purchase. An email with it's melodic ding pops up...doesn't matter if it is worth reading or not - I go and read...I remember someone I didn't email back earlier. I send the email...I read my favorite blogs...I lament over the extreme out of dateness of my own blog... I look at the time...12:04am...dishes still waiting, experiment ring in the toilet, clothes quietly crinkling to unmanageable lumps in their baskets, crumbs on the table... The baby monitor quietly coos...a tiny static crackle here and there.. If only morning would not come...or stealthily delay its appearance. Alas, all fun things must come to an end...the shower is calling this tired body.

Kaylic I'm sure those of you with small children eventually come to know their own native language. Ever since Kayla was old enough to utter sounds she has been making some interesting ones. When she was about 5 months old she started out by growling or heavy breathing as we liked to call it. For awhile she earned the name, "Darth Baby" because of the funny sounds she was making. Most babies coo or razz, Kayla would growl in delight. It was the funniest sound we had ever heard. When she was about 18 months old and starting to say words she would sometimes break into a babble that we dubbed "Kaylic." You could tell she was saying something very serious and she would look at us as if to say, "Why don't you understand these profound things that I'm saying?" Now that Kayla is older (3 years old) and consistently speaks in complete sentences, I thought it would be fun to update you on some of the new words she is saying: Han-gah-ber - hamburger. (I think this is a childhood classic and just about every kid I've known has said this. Love it!) Va-po-ra-tor - vaporizer. Ma-zah-gine - magazine. Ma-gah-log - cross between a magazine and a catalog. I was pretty proud of her for coming up with this one. She also likes to make up words with one of her pals at daycare. One of the words that seems to stick is this: Schwapped - to set down or throw down forcefully. This seems to be the meaning of the word, but she uses it in many different contexts. Such as, "I schwapped down on the couch to watch a movie." Hope you've enjoyed your short lesson in Kaylic.

The Update So I'm finally getting around to giving y'all the update - sorry for the lateness in responding! I am still getting this frequent blogging thing together. I've been back at work for a month now and things are very slowly coming together (hence my absence). The first day I dropped off Zachary at daycare I was in my car crying...trying to calm down enough to drive. When I finally slowed down, I turned on the radio and the first line of a familiar song played, "It's not the end of the world, it's just another day, standing on grace." I stopped for a moment and listened again and laughed. Oh great, God, you always know what I need. Truly this separation, this change, is not the end of the world, but just another day in a sea of changes. Since then there have been ups and downs. Downs - finding out that Zachary cried a lot and didn't take the bottle for several days at daycare. Ups - finally after three weeks having him happy and cooing and playing at daycare. Downs - not getting much sleep due to the new schedule and both kids waking up on and off. Ups - finding the sweet spot in the schedule and having them both finally sleeping better. I appreciate all of you for your nice comments in previous posts and asking how things were going. From now on I'll try to write more.

Less Than A Week Only a few more days until I go back to work. I'm trying to process it all - to be practical about the things that need to be done. Paperwork to fill out, things to buy, prayers to be said. But deep down it just hurts. There is no other way to say it. I look at my sweet boy blissfully sleeping and I realize that it is no easier this time than it was with the first...giving up his care to someone else for part of the day. It reminds me of the fact that he is already starting to grow up so to speak, to be separate from me. I guess the day he found his thumb and started sucking it was the beginning of that process. I'm reminded of when Kayla was his age. I was feeding her one day and then rocking her to sleep when it hit me like a ton of bricks. We are constantly preparing our children to be independent enough to one day leave us. What a heart wrenching thought! I'm overwhelmed with those thoughts today. Oh I know, our children will always need us, our love, and prayers, even as adults. (In fact, I'm surprised and yet strangely comforted by how much Kayla, at almost three still wants snuggles and hugs. She may look like a big girl, but she is still a baby inside.) But the truth is that one day they will be on their own. So for the next few days I'll hold my baby boy tight and delight in his smiling face, the smell of his little head, hold onto his tight little fists, and rest in the peaceful quiet of him nursing. Hoping as he grows that he chooses me to hug and kiss him and comfort him no matter how old he is.

Poetry Jam Megan over at Sorta Crunchy is celebrating the last day of National Poetry Month and I though I would join in the fun. Be sure to check out her favorite poem by clicking here. Here are some of my own poems written over the last few years. I'm not great with naming these things, but have tried to name them something. Coffee Shop Confessions As I sit in my corner vantage point in Waterstreet I see caricatures of reality A snowflake etched in glass A love letter in a handkerchief A copper sun on the ceiling A poet in the corner It quiets as they all leave Serenity pours out of the speakers What seen before me is reality? Everyday Chaos Incessant chatter, word upon word My participation wanes Until I become a catatonic observer Dusk Clearing black sky Clouds floating away The Cheshire cat moon smiling Twinkling light in the distance The crisp night ahead of us To Write Books, books, and more books! How I long to read them all Lose myself in the pages Experience what I don't in life Be happy that I don't have that life! Read about great truths for eternal knowledge Read silliness and laugh Look at pictures and wonder My desire to drink it all in, all the time! To become part of the book, whether truth or fiction But to write a book - So much harder to do But necessary to understand and reflect on life Difficult to express the mundane in the pages To be unleashed, to write at will! Whether it be serious, scholarly or just plain trite. What good is it? What purpose is served? My random thoughts fill this space This page that may hold the complexities of my mind Or the experience of existence. Where am I going? I started out asking this question And know nothing more here. Purple pen gliding over the pages As I listen to the chatter in the cafe Do they know how loud they are? Mixing into a stream of confusion Some voices standing out in random patterns "The trees are pretty," says the father to the daughter "I stopped by and saw it," the loud man on the couch Kitchen topics with my love We are here together We share our thoughts - Our perspective - Our experience My thoughts blend with the din - Rising and falling - Until silent My pen is stopping I've read this randomness and strangely I am happy

I Had Forgotten I had forgotten the excitement of seeing the first robin of spring... I had forgotten the sweet, heavy scent of rain coming in the distance... I had forgotten the waxy tug on my fingers of the first green leaves pushing through the ground... I had forgotten the wonder of seeing a duck just a few feet away... I had forgotten the cool, damp feeling of grass between my toes... I had forgotten the spine tingling excitement of hiding during hide-n-seek... I had forgotten, my sweet girl, until I met you.

When I Look at Your Face... ...little son, I see big, deep, blue eyes staring back at me in pure innocence and unconditional love. I see your button nose and your toothless, double-dimpled grin and I overflow. You are the sweet boy I never knew I could love. ...sweet girl, I see a the glimmer of my BeBa in your big girl eyes and I'm overcome. Blonde hair and sweet cheeks like your Mama, so stubborn like your Mama. Trying so hard to be the big sister, but longing to still be her Mama and Dada's baby. You are my pure joy. ...my perfect husband, I see icy blue eyes overflowing with patience and a supernatural calm. We are growing old together - can you feel it? Look how far we have come. My life is infinitely and forever changed - bigger, better, and yet grounded in ways that I've never comprehended. I see your smile, the twinkle in your eye and I know that there is so much yet to know. "To love another person is to see the face of God." - Les Miserables

The Sweet Sound of Chaos Yes, you read the title correctly. I've never been so happy to hear screaming and laughing and the pounding of running feet! After five days of being sick, Kayla is better. She is smiling and laughing and she asked me to chase her around the living room. Normally that whole chasing thing is pretty short lived for me, but I heartily chased her around for as long as we could handle it! Breathlessly she declared, "I feel much better!" Indeed! I never thought I would be looking forward to the week coming up that her and I would spend together with the baby. The sick Kayla was much harder to handle then the well Kayla. I'm sure well Kayla and I will have a great time. Note: I didn't publish this post right away and am happy to report that our week together was great. We had our ups and downs, but overall it was a good. Thanks to everyone that was praying for us. In a way, I'm sort of lonely today without Kayla's sweet face around. Just me and the little boy today.

If Only There Were Two of Me... I'm sure we have all had that thought - wishing we had a clone or an extra set of hands. I'm especially feeling that pain today - figuring out how to juggle two kids - an infant (by definition - needy) and a little under the weather toddler (temporarily needy). It seems that I'm constantly having to choose, whose needs get met first. Unfortunately, my infant son cries more loudly and is harder to reason with and he usually wins the battle. I'm also struggling with how to work with Kayla's recently behavior issues (presumably more apparent or new due to baby Zachary's recent appearance on the scene). A few days ago, I was reading Corey's post over at Living and Loving Every Minute of It (click here to check it out - a little long, but worth it) and I believe she really hit the nail on the head. When our own needs are not met we are impatient and cranky and stray from our core parenting style and frankly from our own personalities in general. It seems like that is the story of my life lately. I'm thankful to Corey for her timely post and helping me get back on track. I guess in the end I keep coming back to this simple truth. God has put me in this situation and he will see me through. I Corinthians 10:13 says "No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it." How often I am tempted to lash out, to yell, to be impatient, to do what I shouldn't do in this new, two child parenting game. I have to remember that I am weak and nothing without God's help. I often think about how blessed I am to be a mother (twice now!) and I have to constantly focus on God's strength and not my own. With this focus, I can do anything!

Sweet Girl As those of you know who have had children, the aftermath or "post partum period" can be a roller coaster of emotions. At times I'm happier than I can imagine and other times the littlest thing can make me cry. (Case in point, I am not a country music fan, but there is a country song on the Gospel Music Channel that had me in tears one day.) One morning before Jerry and Kayla left for the day I was crying and Kayla came up to me with the receiving blanket she uses for her doll and said, "Mommy, don't cry, don't be sad" and she wiped my tears away with her blanket. Of course, this made me cry harder. How can a 2 1/2 year old know what her Momma needed so much? I'm so blessed to have such a sweet girl. She adores her little brother and takes every opportunity to kiss him, touch him, and hold him when she can. It will be great when he can respond more to her. Thinking about this reminds me again of how blessed I am.

Devotion I had a hard time naming this post only because the word devotion seems a bit too cheesy for me, but I can't describe it any other way. I marvel at Jerry's love for me and how he so often anticipates what I need to hear or what needs to be done. It is as if we have found out how to be in sync - in a perfectly, devoted way. Right before we left the hospital with Zachary, we were enjoying a quiet time when he was sleeping. Jerry looked at me and he said, "you should be proud." I knew exactly what he meant. All those months of praying and asking God to give me a natural birth, the work of actually experiencing it and all that pushing! I starting crying. How I needed someone to say that to me, how I longed to shout from the rooftops, "I DID IT!!" But I knew that was not what I was supposed to do. I've tried so hard to be humble and thankful that God would choose me to be a mother again and I knew that was what I should focus on. But to have those words said out loud for me - what a wonderful gift. So I want to be proud, but I won't. Instead, I'm thankful that a faithful, gracious God heard my cry for help and blessed me with the desire of my heart.

Five Weeks and Counting...and Growing! Five weeks - little Zachary is 5 weeks old today. As some friends predicted, he arrived just after the Superbowl - Monday February 4 at 2:44 am. My water broke at 4pm on Sunday February 3rd and I just laughed. For some reason, this whole pregnancy I had a feeling my water would break and I was in a great mood thinking about how in 24 hours or less, Zachary would be in my arms. I was nervous when I called the midwife and excited that she said as long as labor started on it's own in the next 6 hours I was free to stay home. The contractions felt like low abdominal menstrual cramps and I actually had to ask myself at first, "was that a contraction?" They became regular about 6:30pm and were about 5-7 minutes apart when we left for the hospital about 9:30pm. When we got to the hospital they asked me if I wanted a jacuzzi room - I was excited thinking how comfortable that would be. (Turns out I never used it - more on that later.) They told me I was dilated 6 and 90% effaced. I was elated and happy that I was able to be home through so much of the first part of labor. The contractions were intense, but I prayed through each one and held onto Jerry. I found labor to be a very inward, introspective experience. I closed my eyes through every contraction reminding myself that God created my body to do this work and I should not resist or tense up. When I resisted a contraction they hurt more and seemed unbearable. Unfortunately because I had a c-section last time, they made me wear a fetal monitor at all times. It made it hard to move around although they could hook me up to a wireless unit, they kept having to change the position of the monitor to make sure they could still capture his heartbeat. I tried to walk, but felt best when I was lying on my side, but I knew that this slowed things down. I was unbearably hot - that was one of the most surprising things about the whole experience. (No interest in a hot, jacuzzi tub!) Even though it was freezing cold outside, they turned the heat off completely in my room. I can't imagine if it had been on. By about 1:45, the feelings were incredibly intense, I felt the urge to bear down, but didn't recognize at the time what that feeling was. I just remember sitting on the toilet thinking that my pelvis was coming apart - that it was at the widest position it could be. I was right - I was fully dilated and 100% effaced. I remember the midwife saying to me, "It's time to push this baby out!" I remember saying in a fog, "Really, it is?" I kept thinking - the hard part is over, right? WRONG! I never realized how hard it would be to push out a baby - I just had no idea. I pushed for nearly and hour and I just remember thinking after each push - he has to be out soon right? I was so tired and the fact that I had not slept in almost 24 hours was taking its toll. Near the end they lost Zachary's heartbeat and could not get it on a monitor on his head. That was ironic to me because I could feel him kicking me right at that moment. In the chaos I don't remember if I said anything about it out loud. The midwife said to me, "If we do not get this baby out soon, I will have to cut you." That was enough motivation for me and on the next push, his head came out partially and then the next push he came completely out. I'll never forget that immense feeling of relief and the strange sensation of the umbilical cord still attached to my body. In seconds he was on my chest and I remember saying over and over, "Oh my goodness, oh my goodness." He was so big - 9lbs 6oz. They said I could breastfeed him, but I couldn't sit up, so that was challenging, but he sucked for about 10-15 minutes and then they wisked him away over to a bassinet to be weighed and other things. I'm still overwhelmed now 5 weeks later thinking of the experience. I thank God that he gave me the perfect birth - no drugs, a short labor, a beautiful, healthy boy. I just kept looking at him when we were in our room a few hours after he was born and just marveling at how beautiful he was. We were surprised to find that he has two dimples. There is no one else in either my family or Jerry's family that does. I remember during those quiet days in the hospital looking at him and thinking "God must have delighted in making you." Five weeks later I look at him in his swing making growling and cooing noises as he likes to do and being amazed at how big he is already - almost 13 pounds.

It Won't Be Long Now I'm counting the days until little Zachary John makes his appearance. Everything is going well. The midwives think that he is much smaller than Kayla was and he is head down and ready to go. Everyday seems slow when waiting for something this big to happen. I hate that I just used such a simple word as "big" to describe giving birth and the experience of raising another child. In truth the magnitude of it all is alluding me at the moment. I'm just trying to take one day at a time. Everything is ready - at least physically - his room, clothes, even diapers and wipes all loaded up into the changing table. My bag and his are packed. Yet everyday I keep wondering, am I ready? Mentally ready? I'm trying to stay positive, to take the memory of the chaos of those first few weeks with Kayla in perspective. To remember that I was new to everything and at least this time there are only some aspects that are completely new. Like the fact that he is a completely different person - with a different personality and habits among many other things of course. I'm not sure what I had to say in this post that is very profound, but more just me trying to grasp the stillness and quiet before this joyous change. It reminds me more than ever that I have to trust God in all things. He has given me the gift of this little boy. Zachary John means "remembered by a gracious God." Because he has remembered me, I know that he will be with me through this.

Don't Let it Get Away I've been subconsciously avoiding this topic for awhile because it means that I have to admit something to myself - that Kayla is growing up and time is flying forward at light speed. I've been sort of watching it all happen out of the corner of my eye in denial as if somehow avoiding this topic will prevent that truth from occurring. But it is happening. In some ways I don't even recognize my baby. She talks is complete sentences now and some of the things we talk about are even surprising to me. With the new baby on the way it reminds me that in some ways she will be forced to grow up a little bit more. This makes me sad, but in the same way I know it will be good for her. She pats my belly and says hi to "baby brudder" just about everyday. Yesterday she asked if baby brudder could come out and play dinosaurs with her. Today she said "he really wants out, right now!" When we told her that she would teach him how to play she just smiled and growled and laughed like she does in her sweet, little excited way. But tonight as I laid down with her as she was falling asleep, all I could see was my baby girl in the half light. Her sweet cherub face filling my view, her little thumb in her mouth, her eyelashes fluttering, fighting the sleepiness. I pulled her close and kissed her. I wished the moment would last forever. In some ways I guess it will - she will always be my baby girl no matter what happens and no matter how old she is.

The Distraction of Electricity Over this past weekend we spent 40 hours without electricity. It started Friday night about 7pm when a storm passed through and knocked out the power. (Thankfully we still had hot water.) This is very unusual for our area and we were surprised to find that our neighbors across the street all had power. We found out later that only about 35-40 houses in our neighborhood were out. As we sat there in the dark that night, under the faint glow of the street light across the street, I pondered how much we rely on electricity not just for the normal day to day operations such as the hair drying, dish washing, and microwaving, but for the distractions of everyday life. Jerry and I were forced to just sit there, literally, and talk in the romantic candle light. We talked about everything we could think of and enjoyed the candles that had been collecting dust for months. The candles in our fireplace had only been lit once since we put them in this spring - what a travesty! I pulled out every new, scented candle I've been forgetting to try and put them out. It was so quiet...no hum of some distant appliance or even the quiet static of the baby monitor. Most importantly, no computer, Internet or *gasp* BLOG to distract us from what we should really be doing - spending time together. The next morning, the transformer down the street was repaired and we went back to life as normal - washing clothes, sending emails, and blow drying hair. But the story doesn't end here, a little more than 24 hours later, we hear a shocking "ka-pow!" and the power went out again. In some ways I was annoyed, I really wanted to crosstich that night and there is just no way to do that in the dark, even with a great flashlight! In other ways, it was a relief. There was no way I could catch up on some of my work projects or get sucked into the Internet that night. We sat outside watching the stars and gazing at the moon rising. It was cool outside and quiet - we sipped our coffee and talked softly. For once I was thankful for the lack of distractions...for being forced to do nothing but relax. It was as if God was trying to tell us in an indisputable way to just put the difficult week behind us and be still. Well, thanks Big Guy - we needed that!

The Blossoming Belly Well, for those of you who don't know, Baby Powell v2.0 is on the way. This pregnancy has been very odd or maybe not odd in the "statistical significance" sense, but odd in the "not like the other one" sense. We tried for several months to get pregnant and after watching just about every other female family member get pregnant before me, we were finally blessed with the digital readout at the crack of dawn (6:30am 5/31) of "Pregnant." I was happy and excited but so bleary eyed that the tears ran down my cheeks on the outer rim of my eyes instead of the inner rim near my nose. Weird? Odd? Yeah, it was. Because we were on vacation, we promptly went back to sleep until Kayla woke up. The weeks following involved exponential weight gain (12 lbs in 6 weeks - thanks wacky thyroid!), nausea in the evening - what's that talk about "morning" sickness? Don't know about that... And being smacked on the head with a two by four fatigue at random times of day. For a couple of weeks, Jerry just tucked me in at about 9pm. Suddenly at 10 weeks - I came back to life! I could stay awake in the evenings! I tossed out my saltines that I had permanently attached to my person! I made it through the late afternoon without a snack! Ahhhhh...but then the belly popped out. And with a vengeance it went forth in its glorious round girth. There should be some law against "popping" before week 13. In one week, normal clothes became 2-3 inches too small. Maternity clothes from my previous pregnancy were all for the wrong season, so only a few worked at this stage. But all was not lost - $100 later - two pairs of pants and three shirts joined my life and brought me over to chic maternity land. Who knew that I looked so good in mint green? Or that the inventor of the "miracle pant" would now become a beneficiary in my will? Could sleek khaki pants and breast-hugging shirts somehow make me a better person? I guess that all remains to be seen. On July 11 we went in for my first midwife appointment. After all the talk about twins, she thought it best to do an early ultrasound verification. One little baby was hanging around in there - its little heartbeat flickering. All of a sudden - it started jumping around - thrashing its little arms and legs as if it knew it was on camera and as if to say, "Hi Mom and Dad - I'm doing good in here!!!" Our midwife laughed in surprise and said, "that is so unusual to see the baby moving this early." Well, as we have seen with Kayla, we don't have ordinary babies (and I mean this in the best possible way of course). Of course our baby would move around like mad at 9 1/2 weeks! Two weeks later (11 weeks or so), I felt that flutter feeling (Moms, you know what I'm talking about). Now with "normal" pregnancies this usually happens around 16-18 weeks. I stood there thinking to myself, "Naaaahhhhh, this is pretty early." It's as if this baby heard my thoughts and decided to do it...hmmm...seven more times! I know without a doubt that was the baby moving. I don't care what anyone else says. My midwife confirmed today that without the placenta in front as it was with Kayla, it is pretty likely that I'm more sensitive to movement and I did feel this little one moving. At my appointment today we very easily heard the baby's heartbeat - slower than Kayla's, but very strong as if to say, "I'm strong and healthy, Mom and Dad." I'm pretty convinced that like Kayla, this baby is going to have a story to tell when we meet him or her for the first time. (Kayla's was a pretty intense story as she screamed bloody murder for 45 minutes straight right after she was born. No little baby wah, wah for her!) It's been very different than last time, but so calm and peaceful. It is odd, but I'm looking forward to giving birth. Maybe I am slightly naive as I did not even have one contraction with Kayla (c-section due to her size - 10lbs 3oz), but I have a sense of rightness with this whole process. As for now, the belly continues to grow. I rub it and dance often - just to make Kayla and Jerry laugh. Ironically, even though this blossoming is so important, so unique and so well, fun this time, I have not taken one picture of it in its spherical glory. I guess it's off to select the appropriate photo shoot look and start clicking away.

Sweet, Sweet Summer... Well, here we are...it's official...the calendar may not say the first day of summer, but it might as well be. Summer unofficially started weeks ago...and isn't glorious! Maybe you don't agree and well, I wouldn't blame you. The shocking transition from 55 degrees to 85 isn't for the faint of heart and can make some of us even irritated with the idea of a new season. I'm with you...I get it...but I'm here to talk about the good stuff. The stuff that summer dreams are made of. There is nothing like gazing at the greenest, most perfectly trimmed patch of grass and just imaging yourself lying on it, petting it. Ohhhh...this love of freshly cut grass has exhibited itself in me very strangely. I have visions of sleeping on it...I think that is why I took up golf. I can't help but love the perfectly manicured greens. When people aren't looking I stroke that grass as if it were my small, furry pet. How can't you love that crisp smelling field of perfection? And the flowers - is there anything like the sight of orange daylillies (and they are everywhere around here these days) smiling in the breeze - swaying so gently as if singing a lullabye. And the sky so blue you can't imagine that it could be real - contrasting with the crisp white clouds floating by. All of this enticing beauty - beckoning me to be a part of it...stirring a longing in me so pure and so exciting. I long to see a lake - not any lake, but Lake Michigan - part lake, part ocean. Big enough that I can't imagine its end, small enough to believe that it can be embraced. I imagine looking out...hearing the waves crash, the seagulls call, the sandpipers flit way with their tiny little feet. Looking out into the endless blue reminds me that this is all a gift from a Creator that longs to know us so intensely that he would use any noble means possible to get our attention. Which brings me to a breathtaking watercolor sunset. Always unique, always quiet, and always gently asking, "Meet me here again tomorrow?" How kind, how thoughtful, how delightfully loving He is. So do yourself a favor tonight, tomorrow or the next day...go outside - maybe at dusk - check out the canvas near you. Now I know in my postage stamp of suburbia I can't really see the full sunset, but I can see the pink and purple streaks reflecting in the sky and the lightening bugs starting to flicker here and there. Get out there...be quiet, be still, and know that He is God.

The Magnitude of Folding Undergarments Don't be alarmed by the name of this post. I won't be sharing scary stories about my own undergarments or (even scarier) my husband's. Last night, I was folding my daughter's clothes - excited (probably more than she) over all the cute things she just got for her birthday. That crisp little white skirt with the aqua polo embroidered with little hearts - brilliant! If only they made things so perfectly cute for me (and I could actually wear them without looking childish). That was when I stumbled upon them while aimlessly reaching into the basket - 7 pair of little undergarments - pictures of Disney princesses on them. I picked up the first one, folded it and was shocked at how small it was. Mystified by how such a tiny package was about to make such a big impact on me. You see, she hasn't actually worn them yet. I bought them in preparation for the diaper free utopia I hope to experience in the near future. But as I continued to fold each one, I couldn't believe how tiny they were - each little brightly colored nub stacked on top of each other - in contrast to what they represented - the end of the diaper and wipe era. "She's growing up," I thought. What?!?! How could this be happening? Today it's panties, tomorrow it's her first car?!?! I was overcome - the tears started welling up. In a word, I was vehklempt! I had the urge to hide them away - or worse, toss them into the trash with all of the other things I'm vainly attempting to avoid. But I did what I was supposed to (I'm a rule follower at heart - but will break rules in the spirit of the right thing to do). I put them perfectly folded into the basket to put in her drawer the next day. The top drawer - next to the silly infant hats that I can't part with even though they never fit her wibbly, wobbly head and the 75 barettes she refuses to wear. So the magnitude of undergarments you ask? The magnitude is the fact that my baby just turned 2. If you don't have children, this doesn't sound like a very long time, but for those of you that do, you know it is a lifetime. A lifetime of constant newness, of mindblowing changes, of ultimate highs of the first smile, laugh, "Love you, Mama" and ultimate lows of sleepless nights and a child in pain. My heart swelling and overflowing with love and breaking all at the same time. An indescribable journey of matchless joy. As far as my own undergarments, well, they just aren't worth mentioning.

Papers and Pens and Journals, Oh My! Office supplies...the mere mention brings a dreamy smile to my face while visions of brightly colored, sparkly gel pens float in my head. Memories of the smell of sharpies...the crisp feeling of paper in my hand. The rich, musky smell of a leather bound journal. My adhesive in hand, my reflection mirrored back in the silver paper trimmer. Ahhhh...what else is there in life? Even more wonderful - the feeling of cracking open a hard bound book for the first time. I sometimes wonder if they make books extra crispy for me! Or better yet, the feeling of a paperback held firmly in my hand as I devour the pages. It is ironic that the paper and pen medium appeals to me so much. I probably have about 20 journals, of which I've written in maybe 5 or 6. But I keep buying them. I just can't help myself. My latest purchase was a red leather one with a heart embossed on the front. I was captivated by the thick scent beckoning me from under the plastic wrapping...it was more expensive than the others, but I kept coming back to show my affection. In the end it enticed me by wearing its heart on its sleeve. I was consumed! OK, OK, I'm not completely obsessed, it actually is in use - my husband and I write love notes back and forth in it. Sometimes I just pick it up and pet its beautiful, embossed cover. You little rascal, I hear you calling me now! Perhaps you will get your wish my pretty - hubby deserves a love note today. Back to the irony - it is ironic how I really believe I will write in the journals - that I will use that new pen that feels so perfect in my hand and glides so effortlessly over the pages, but alas, both collect dust. Instead I'm here in cyberspace. Clicking away on my keyboard in a relatively sterile smelling office (where is that coffee candle when I need it?) with the shadow of an overflowing pencil cup in my peripheral vision. Here is where I can share my thoughts...here is where I can scrupulously edit each sentence with the miracle of spell and grammar check. Here is where I can make that font LARGER! Who could have dreamed of such perfection? Typing almost as quickly as the thoughts go through my head...fingers perched on the home keys...the white glow of the monitor warming my heart. I guess it is official...I'm a geek...I'm a blogger now...I've moved to the next dimension. At least for now... Oh maybe tomorrow that cute little white joural with the purple flower on it will have its day, the purple gel pen patiently waiting by its side. Maybe the 5 books I'm in the process of reading will experience the joy of living their purpose - being read by a person instead of rotting in a drawer! But for now I continue to type...or maybe it's off to Amazon where I can browse the books, quietly clicking to turn the pages.

The Sound of Silence It is not often when you have a small child that you can truly envelop yourself in silence. Yet today is one of those rare moments when my husband is not home and my daughter is asleep. Ironically still is that there are no environmental sounds - the soft thud, thud of the dryer, the swish and drain of the dishwasher...nothing. The only sound I hear is the occasional soft, sweet sighs of Kayla as she drifts deeper into sleep. How sweet and calming this is. It used to be that I wouldn't let myself enjoy such a peaceful moment. Shouldn't I be doing something? Cleaning, ironing, washing dishes, making a neglected phone call, emailing pictures, sending invitations. No...not tonight. Tonight I'm quiet...at least for now. Listening. God has given me this moment to hear him and I'm listening for the still, small voice. Have you heard God talking? Have you listened for that voice? Maybe you expected something else...something loud and dramatic. That is what the world wants us to think. The loudest voice drowns out all others - the biggest, flashiest object gets our attention. But is that what we really want to have? Is that really what we need? We were recently at Disney World and I remember thinking in amazement that a vacation here is the highlight of many people's year. I'm not saying that this is a bad thing - it was enjoyable to be there and there was much fun to be had. But I was thinking of people that obsess about being there, that this place is the one bright spot for them to look forward to. It is as if for some people the fantasy land that exists there is preferred over what real life is. Somehow this struck me as sad. We are so wrapped up in what we see and can feel and touch and experience that we sell ourselves out for created treasures rather than unseen treasures that only God can give us. What are those treasures? What about freedom from worry or fear, a mind at rest, peaceful sleep, hope in all things, joy in all circumstances. As you seek to know who God is personally (not through the eyes of others) these things will come. I looked at the people around us thinking of the motto of Disney World, "Where Dreams Come True." What is your dream? For a child maybe it does involve meeting their favorite character at Disney. But as an adult, my dream is to leave a legacy of love and respect to my children - for them to know that the ultimate dream and fantasy is not Cinderella's Castle, but the streets of gold in heaven. For them to experience the treasures of knowing who God really is. So for now I'm listening...listening for the purpose that God has put me here. Listening for the dreams I have to come true with his help. Silently embracing the treasures he has given me.