Dreams

We have new snow! About a foot of beautiful, white, fluffy snow. It is gorgeous. We have been trying to enjoy it as much as possible. Two things make that difficult.
1. We live in a city.
2. We have a 4 yr old.
We took Little Man out for a hike/sled ride on Sunday afternoon but the wind was biting and his cheeks were just too red so we had to abort mission and head home. Which was fine, actually, because our cheeks were too rosy as well and the biting wind just wasn't worth it to walk through a neighborhood. I'll take wind if it comes with mountains and woods, though.

Today is not windy. Today is sunny and blue skies and snow that glistens in the sun as if studded with millions of diamonds. Little Man and I went snowshoeing for a bit on this glorious day. We went to a local, small nature preserve and the trail was much too short and the child was much too tired and my sweat came not from the hills but from piggybacking the 50 pounds of tired boy through the gleaming snow. But for a moment between the exhausted whines and my own frustrating desire to move back to the mountains, it was perfect. The sun was filtering down through the trees at just the perfect angle. The birds were singing ever so sweetly as they flew overhead, shadows chasing below on the brilliant white snow. The air was fresh and clear, the boy was laughing and running ahead, dragging a stick through the fresh powder. And I thanked God for this little piece of paradise right here in this moment. It was healing and refueling and inspiring.

And now I want to move back to the mountains. Sigh. Today is a day for dreaming. Not the dreams that could have been or should have been but the dreams that just may be. The dreams of what to plant in the garden this summer, where to camp when the snow melts. Dreams of a cozy country house with an enormous kitchen table and a family big enough to fill it. Dreams filled with hope and excitement. These dreams are always bittersweet because my sweet Jameson is not in them and I so long for him to be here and to be there in my dreams, in my future. But I cannot stop dreaming; I cannot stop living my life as long as I still have it. This life is far too great a gift to waste. So I dream my bittersweet dreams and thank God for this gift of a life that is miraculously still so full. Full of love, full of hope, full of dreams.

Contemplative and Slightly Rambling

I'm still feeling contemplative and still not sure how to put my thoughts and feelings into words that actually make sense. I'm so thankful Hubs understands me well enough that we can talk things through even when I don't make any sense and he still gets it. I've been struggling a lot with my Bible readings and the contrasting pictures of God in the old and new testaments and how they fit into my perspective and experiences, especially in light of Jameson's death. It is a big, complex subject; I feel like I know so little of who God is and what I really understand and believe sometimes. But I don't think that is a bad thing. So often, I coast through the days on what I think I already know and feel and don't bother to see if anything else is there, just outside my tunnel vision. Really slowing down and taking inventory of my surroundings and beliefs and core values is a good thing. But it is difficult to do and exhausting.

I don't really have any answers and sometimes I'm not even sure if I know what my questions are. I'm working on it all. This week, it seems to me that most of my questions, concerns, and discoveries all center around what God's grace really is, how big it is, and how much I take it for granted. The cliche statement "But for the grace of God" is used because it is real. God's grace is real. But how big is His grace? How much of life, my experiences, my relationships, my thoughts is covered in grace? Can there be any happiness, any security, any love without it? Would life be worth living without it? Would there even be a life without God's grace? Maybe these are simple "duh"-type questions to ask. I kinda feel like I've been taking some of the simple stuff for granted, and remembering that I need His grace seems just as important as knowing that I have it.

Well, its a start. Voskamp's book really dives into this topic. I often feel like the next chapter, page, line seems to answer the questions that I've been lifting up to God, the questions that I can feel in my soul but can't even find the words to vocalize. I feel like she wrote this book just for me. Yes, God still speaks. And I am learning to listen in ways I never have before.

And this right here? This picture is grace.

Three and a half years ago, God graced us with Jameson. He remains a blessing far greater than I could have ever dreamed and certainly more wonderful than I could ever deserve.


I have a few prayer requests to present to you today.
The first is for an old high school friend. Her daughter has many enduring medical trials and is currently in the hospital undergoing some tests to see what is going on. Please pray for quick healing for sweet, little Elena.

The second one is for a family we met in the PICU. They just found out last week that their newborn cannot be healed. They have been in the PICU for months watching their sweet little boy fight for his life. We know all too well the unbearable devastation and heart break they are living daily. Please lift them up in prayer, that God may bring them comfort and healing as they cherish their remaining time and learn to say goodbye much too soon.

Happy Weekend

I'm just checking in since its been a while. It has been a cold, but good and busy week. I feel like I have a lot of ideas and thoughts swirling around in my mind, but none are solid enough to write about yet. I'll get there in His time. I have cooked a lot but haven't picked up the camera much this week. But here a few pics to whet your appetite.

Banana Foster Pancakes drizzled with maple syrup.

Homemade Blue Cheese Dressing.

It was the sauce for one of our SuperBowl pizzas: blue cheese, grapes, salmon and portabello mushroom pizza. And yes, It was fantastic. The other pizza was a Thai chicken pizza. I don't even have to tell you how amazing it was, do I?

Eggs Florentine
My favorite breakfast. Even Jameson, the pickiest eater in the house loved this one.

Happy Weekend!

Broken

I was battered and bruised and wholly washed over with grief this past weekend. I was a puddle. I asked Hubs if he thought I should see a professional(he doesn't think I need to). But then it passed. And now I'm okay again. It is amazing how this grief thing works. One minute, I'm doing fine; I can remember Jameson with a smile and I can play with Little Man and cook dinner and do the laundry and clean the house and speak in complete sentences and breathe. Then out of nowhere a tsunami washes over and drags me under and I'm left a crumpled, broken and incoherent puddle on the floor. I don't know why it happens this way. A little warning would be nice. Maybe I'd be able to brace myself for it. Maybe, maybe not. I am, after all, a broken woman trying to keep myself together enough to move forward through the hours, days, weeks...to find a way to live whole again.

But maybe being broken isn't the worst thing that can happen to a person. Maybe this brokenness is a gift. Leaning closer to God is never a bad thing. I started a new book for a book club this weekend and it is a lifeline. I don't believe in coincidences- this book is a gift from God to me. God still speaks and He has been using many amazing and faithful women to get his words of love and healing to me over these many months. I am so thankful that I'm listening. No matter where you are in your life, no matter if you are whole, holey, or completely empty, I highly recommend this book. It is changing the way I see and live.

One Thousand Gifts:
A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are
by Ann Voskamp


God Bless you all.

Heaven On Earth

He was so perfect.

He really was too good to be true.

And now he seems like a dream; a glorious dream I never want to wake up from because I am so afraid I will forget.

I don't want to forget one thing about my angel-boy. Nothing. But just like a dream, it seems so easy to forget and it terrifies me. I find myself desperate to balance the memories and life of my baby but also have some relief from the pain and it doesn't work. I either remember him; every remarkable detail, including the pain of him being gone or I am numb and he is little more than a faint dream. I can't have it both ways and every day is like a pendulum as I swing from one extreme to the other.

He is so worth every excruciating heart break and more.

He truly was heaven on earth; while I would give almost anything to have him back for even one minute, it seems right that he is where he is. I marvel when I think of how he must be in his full perfection. I cannot wait to walk through those pearly gates, kiss Jesus' feet and then see my perfect little boy.

I miss him so much.

I miss the way he felt in my arms.

His soft skin and his silky hair and his perfect, round head.

I miss his kisses and snuggles.

I miss his laughter.

I miss his dancing.

My angel-boy. My heaven on earth.