Sacred Moments

Almost three years have passed since my Grandma passed...

The dull churning of my insides has eased and moments turn to hours that change into days...weeks...months...years...

But the empty pit deep down and tucked away sometimes rears it's face and sadness graces my being, wishing she was here.

She lived two doors down... a skip, a hop, a jump away...

If I was feeling lonely or that middle-child-syndrome was flaring up hard, I would race there...my bags packed for the night looking forward to the warmth from my precious grandma's house that always made me feel at home.  Her house was small and her surroundings quite meager but I couldn't have felt more safe any place else.

We sipped on tea from her corning-ware and my ears were filled with stories of her childhood and marriage and any other thing that could be talked about.  My Gram, she liked to talk.  And I loved to listen to her southern drawl as she fiddled with her collar bone, reaching for a necklace that wasn't there but telling stories that made me feel like I was back home with her down in her Kentucky blue.

We would sit and chat in that tiny kitchen where she cooked literally thousands of meals,,,

There was something almost sacred about that space.  I can remember watching her time the dinner.  The pressure cooker's high pitched whistle and the humid, hot air.  Soup beans, corn bread, salmon patties and tomato gravy waiting to smother warm biscuits right out of the oven.  Fresh green beans from the humble garden behind her garage that were snapped and broken on the front porch in her metal bowl while the cars sped by fast down Grange Road.

I still envision her sitting there and tend to look, even now, when I walk by or drive passed.

Oh how I miss her.

And tonight my uncle, who now lives there in that blue trimmed house where my daddy grew up, he brought me a cherished gift.

He brought me over one of her cups, and a couple other pieces of her dinnerware...

And my eyes took in the familiar white dishes with pea-green daisies.

Rushing thoughts flood as moments, remembered...

And how thankful and grateful I am for each memory.

How quickly this life may pass.

But how lavishly we can live in remembering these sacred moments that words cannot contain.  Because death may snatch our loved ones...young or old...but their memories will live on telling stories untold...

I Am "THAT" Mom

So I am THAT mom...

Ayla lost her second tooth the other day and was so very excited.  With her two front bottom teeth missing, she smiled big at me after I picked her up from day camp.  She shared, in detail (oh my goodness it took a few minutes), exactly how it happened in the Meijer bathroom with her cousin directing her to "twist, twist, twist" until the tiny tooth made it's way from her gums to her hands...yes I know, it all seems very unsanitary, the whole thing, but I have to put that out of my mind so that my blood pressure remains normal.

So anyhoo...she brings the cherished ivory prize home in a dixie cup.  I put it in the cup holder of my sweet white-mini-van-that-sucks-all-of-the-cool-right-out-of-me and drove us home.  And the prized-possession stays there overnight because, oops, I forgot!  We forgot, all of us!  And that was Friday.  Ayla didn't seem to mind or remember that night or Saturday night either, when she spent the night at Gaga's (can you blame her, she has a new pool?  With fountains!!).  So I don't recall what happened on Sunday but the tooth spent the night AGAIN in the dixie cup in the cupholder...

So yesterday, she remembers about her tooth and how she forgot to put it under her pillow and I panic as my heart starts racing because frankly I don't recall even seeing it in our two month old van that was spic and span for like a minute or two after I vowed to keep it perfect, and totally fell off of that band wagon...But thank our Father in Heaven, it was there!  We retrieve the dixie cup and Ayla finds her special tooth pillow and tucks it tight under hers and goes to sleep without a fight and dreaming of tooth fairy dust...

Mind you, Joe and I took up walking/running in the mornings before the kids wake up, like two whole days in a row...So, in my defense, all that was on my mind was the 6:30 am alarm as I climbed up the stairs Monday night.  And this morning, as we tip-toed around tying our shoes and setting our playlists...Ayla (who has been sleeping in until at least 9 am the WHOLE summer) whimpers in a very tired and confused morning voice,

"She didn't come, my tooth is still here!"

And my heart sinks as my stomach ties into an ugly bow...

I forgot!  I totally and completely felt like I ruined her childhood, right then and there!  Now I must admit that the tooth fairy has forgotten Jonah and Micah, on more than one occasion as well and I felt really horrible but they are so easy to divert and fool.  And the drama, oh the DRAMA, is just not nearly as noticeable with those boys, ever!  But Ayla, on the other hand, NEVER misses a beat and has the memory of an elephant.  I tried to explain that the tooth fairy may have forgotten because we didn't leave out the tooth on the first official night of the loss...

And she cried, and cried... She said the tooth fairy forgot her and was never coming back.

Oh the guilt.  I am THAT mom...

So tonight we left a big sign on her door.  She asked for tooth fairy dust (thank you cousin Janie for telling her all about the tooth fairy dust that you experienced after losing a tooth).

And tonight the tooth fairy will make an appearance.  Her and her "Bare Escentuals: Gold Mineral Veil" will have to do...

Ayla after her first tooth loss

Smile and Nod

I am sitting on my back porch watching the lightening show in the sky.  The rain pours and pounces, changing directions swiftly and fiercely making it's mark.  I feel like a child again as each one of my three...'not-so-littles'...make their way to me.  Concern and anguish grace each face as bright light flashes across the sky.  Hands and arms reach over to me grasping for comfort and reassurance.  My 12 year old is worried mostly about the beating his new bike in the driveway may be taking but the younger two are afraid that they may be struck and hurt.  I try to explain and cradle them each in my embrace for this cherished moment that they actually want and need me in.  And even though the thunder roars I have to be the rock...the grown mama... and I can't let on that the storm scares the living daylights out of me as well.  It may not be my bike in the driveway but my umbrella and patio furniture are out back and my house could blow down and crush us all with these unseasonable winds in an instant flat...But no, I just smile and hold tight and tell them that everything will be fine.  

Lately this has been my motto....Just like the little penguins from the movie "Madagascar" 

...'Just smile and nod boys, smile and nod'

Because isn't that what we end up doing so much of the time as parents?  When the waters are raging and the storms are beating...We have to hold it altogether and pretend like "it's all good"...

We have to be strong for them when the thunderstorms of life pounce on us and beat us down.  When the ones closest to us are sick and hurting...when we don't have the answers to the hard questions...when their little hearts have been beat up and broken and ours are bleeding even more for the pain they are going through.

We long to protect them from any extra anxiety or fear.  So we take it on ourselves.  

But so much of the time those burdens that we carry to protect can be too heavy to hold.  

And as the lightening strikes and the thunder rolls, I am reminded that I have a Father in heaven who loves my 'not-so-little ones' even more than I do...

Will you join me tonight in handing over your burdens that you are carrying, as I do mine. to the Creator of this magnificent creation...

1 Peter 5:6-7
Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.

because he cares for you....

And because of that you and I can truly,

"smile and nod!"

Comfort Zone

The sun shines through the window casting square shadows onto the humpback sofa we pinched our pennies together for so many years ago.  I've hidden the ripped cushion that the yellow foam peers out of up against the back and bottom of the frame.  At first glance it's in pretty good condition but upon further inspection one can see the worn down fabric and broken in seats.  I've tried to update it's slightly dated look by adding some trendy pillows.  Joe and I, we love this sofa.  After each one of our babies were born, this couch turned into my bed, temporarily.  And even though I am not proud to admit it, the tan cushions have also held Joe and me on slightly numerous occasions after a misunderstanding (not to sugar-coat a knock down drag it out full fledged fight or anything...ahem) But seriously we would both agree that our living room sofa is the most comfortable piece of furniture anyone has ever sat their hiney on! Hence the reason either one of us can bear to say our eternal goodbyes to the thing! 

And since I happen to be on the subject of comfort and sitting, I guess that it would be a good time to bring that exact thing up.   I am comfortable in my worn down, slightly dated and torn-at-the-seams life.  Getting off of my rump and out of my comfort zone not only requires the physical strength and action of really doing it...it also calls for the possibility of replacing the known with the unknown.  And after sitting deep in extra comfy cushions for so long, that initial move upward can sometimes really use a boost...a prompting, if you will.  It may be as casual as a conversation with a friend or acquaintance or as grand as a life-altering event.  It may be a Sunday sermon or a stranger's story...Whatever the situation is, sometimes a prompting needs to take heed.  And I have been urged to pull myself up and off of my cozy-comfy place that I have been enjoying and get up and out there into a not-so-snugly place. 

And I am terrified because the color may not match the room and it just may be even more outdated then this 10 plus years old couch.  For goodness sakes it may even be something from my worst nightmares, something colored country blue and mauve (with heaven forbid ducks or even worse, cows!)...if that's not scary, I don't know what is...

But you see the thing is, whatever the unknown, out-of-my comfort zone area that I am headed to, I am being drawn and led by a hand that is holding onto me tighter than I am holding on back.  He is leading me down the narrow path and I am going to try to just follow along, gratefully.  

Sweet Ayla

I posted this 4 years ago today...

Today my precious baby girl turned 2 years old! (yesterday we had her little party and she was definitely the little "belle of the ball") Memories of her birth flooded my mind all day as I played with her and held her and just stared into her beautiful blue eyes. I am so thankful to God for my darling girl. 

When I found out that I was pregnant with her, Joe was convinced that we would be having twin boys. I didn't believe the ultrasound technician when she told me it was a girl. We actually had five confirmations through ultrasound and I still didn't believe it until moments after her birth in the delivery room. My pregnancy was very similar to the other two except that I was more nauseous with her than I was with the boys. After going for my 20 week ultrasound appointment my doctor informed me that the radiologist detected that her brain ventricles were "mildly prominent" and that she had a choroid plexus cyst. He told me not to worry but to schedule a level three ultrasound and to make sure my appointment had the genetic counselor there as well. The hospital could not get me in for three weeks. I was in agony. I was so worried about my baby and could do nothing but wait and pray. Of course I googled and looked up everything I could on the internet about this condition which only scared me all the more. Everything from developmental delays to hydrocephalus popped up. I remember specifically one evening when I was crying to Joe about how upset and worried I was and he looked at me with a wisdom that I never before had seen in his eyes and said, 

"If God chooses to give us a special needs child, He will. He has a reason for everything and if it's His will, it's His will and it won't change the love I have for her already, as a matter of fact I'll probably love her even more!" 

He had this reassuring peace and strength that I did not have. I remembering blaming myself for wanting a girl so badly and thinking this is what I get for wishing for her. 

Before I got pregnant with Ayla, a friend from church came up to me and asked me when I was having my little girl. I was like What? How do you know I'll have a girl? She told me that she had envisioned my Joe, the boys and me with a little girl standing in front of a church and she had a feeling that I was going to have a girl one day. ...a couple of months later, Ayla was conceived... So after finding out about Ayla's condition, I ran up to her at church and in between sobs managed to explain what was wrong. She laid hands on me and prayed with me and as soon as she did, I felt this peace just come over me. That sick feeling in my stomach disappeared and I was at ease. At that moment, my faith grew more than it ever had before. I knew there was a God. The "God who sees me" saw me right then and there! So many people were praying for my baby. They were praying for God's healing and for His will at the same time. 

So the weeks passed and I went to my appointment. The genetic counselor wanted to be in the room and the technician scanned me and looked me straight in the face and said , 

"Her brain ventricles are completely normal and there is no cyst." 

I started bawling my eyes out! I was so relieved! The doctor came in and scanned me and said it was probably an error. He said that they probably measured the wrong area of the brain. I thought, maybe...or maybe, just maybe...God performed a miracle and healed my baby. Why? I don't know why. All I know is that my God, "El Elyon": the Name, is the God who sees me. He hears my cries and calms my fears. He is Jehovah, God and through His precious son chose to give me life and I will forever praise his most holy name! 

Lord, today as I celebrate the birth of my sweet Ayla, I thank you for hearing my cries and calming my fears. Thank you for my precious girl. May her life continue to be a testimony of your grace to an unbelieving world.

2nd Birthday

Pre-school

Kindergarten

Kissing 5 goodbye!

Today I am thanking God for giving us these last six years with our little miracle.  We have been blessed with dollies and drama!! How grateful I am today for our sweet Ayla who has brought us so much joy!!

Another One Bites the Dust

I grew up watching the "Bad Boys" (a.k.a. the "Detroit Pistons" for any of you who were under a rock in the 80's or not in the Detroit area or were toddling around or not even born yet you young-ins!)  Isiah Thomas was my favorite because first of all he was a point guard and second of all he was short...(6 feet 1 inch did indeed look short next to the rest of the bad boys)  We watched them win back to back championships, it was awesome!

My dad loved the game and my older sister was the most aggressive basketball player I have ever seen to this very day.  Thinking back on the way she would hold the ball and growl as she flung her elbows from side to side still sends chills of fear down my spine.  I never dared try to take the ball from her, she was and still is pretty darn tough!

So I grew up playing basketball through the 8th grade.  I even went to McCracken Basketball Camp the summer before Junior High and suffered through a running cramp the entire week, if you didn't know that was possible...it is...trust me!!  I didn't continue in high school because I became a cheerleader...much to my big sister's dismay (we were polar opposites and still are but opposites attract, right?  I think they do as long as you don't live under the same roof because we have a great relationship now but definitely had our fair share of WWE, WWF at the time, smackdowns and they were scary, let me tell you...I think Natalie would agree because I did have some pretty sharp nails...)

Needless to say I wasn't as strong or aggressive as my big sis, but I wasn't a china doll either.  I could hang pretty tough, even if it wasn't with NKOTB (never liked them, sorry girls, remember I had an older sister who probably would have ended my life if I did, we liked U2!  But I have to admit I couldn't hide my love for Debbie Gibson and she still rips on me about that!)

My boys are really into basketball right now regardless of the fact that their dad is Mr. Hockey.  For any of you Trentonites, don't worry they still play hockey but are really enjoying the court too!   I also would like to add that our Trenton Trojan boys varsity basketball team has won districts and their first game of regionals...the farthest they have gone since 1944...my mother-in-law's brother is the coach and it is all very exciting, so I guess the boys have inherited some basketball-loving genes from "daddy hockey's" side as well!  Unfortunately the gene wasn't passed onto Joe and I will never forget the first time I played him in "Pig" when we just started dating and he literally turned red and got angry when I beat him.  The boys did however take on the "Very Competitive" trait for sure!

So back to my original point...As some of you may know, I had a really bad scare last year.  It was the day after Easter and the boys and I were shooting hoops in the driveway.  They had the net lowered and Micah dared me to dunk.   And in my sparkly flats I ran up and dunked but closed my eyes and held onto the rim because I was afraid the ball was going to hit me in the head.  Next thing I know I am on the ground under the whole backboard, rim and net.  Blood was pouring from my head and the boys were terrified.  Later Jonah told me I screamed, "Help, Help me Jesus in heaven!"  a few times.  And THANKFULLY (bold caps don't express my gratitude) he did help me!  Miraculously, I was not seriously injured.  I did take my first ride in an ambulance and experience my first concussion and looked like a creature from Avatar for a week or so...but overall I recovered amazingly well.  And I do admit, laying in bed for a week being pampered and loved on by my kids who are still traumatized to this day that their mama almost died in front of them was pretty wonderful (I know, I'm bad...when the kids are talking back or complaining I do pull out the "remember-when-I-almost-died-in-front-of-you?" card)

And a couple of people have brought up the big fall to me recently.   And no they didn't call me "Floor Jordan" or "Vanilla Thunder" while bringing it up even though I have been referred to as both, hahaha very funny!  And on Sunday at Micah's 3 on 3 tournament I was simply walking down literally 6 bleacher steps.  Ayla and I were heading to the vending machine and I BIT THE DUST and accidentally tried to take down an 80-something year old man on my way down to the gym floor.  I was down and down hard.  The pain in my foot and wrist were over ridden by my embarrassment.  One mom chuckled and said that was soooo something she would do and the rest of the crowd stared wide eyed and I just know they were all thinking "I am so glad that was her and not me..."  I kept apologizing to the old man, I really do think I may have hurt him, he moved to the middle of the row for the next game, he wasn't going to let anyone else grab his poor shoulder on the aisle way again!  I got up and Ayla was so concerned!  Now I have fallen hard and flat on my back in front of all three of my kids at the basketball court...We got out in the hall and I didn't want to go back into the gym.  I held Ayla on my lap and held back my tears as she asked me over and over if I was ok.  I don't know if I was more excited that she cared or that she wasn't embarrassed of me.  I did make my way back into the gym and avoided ALL eye contact with the crowd!

Someone told me that maybe I should stay away from the basketball court.  That we don't go too well together.  That may be true.  Sometimes I feel like that with God.  I believe a certain way, deep in my heart I have this desire to be one with Him  And then I do something foolish, sometimes I don't even see it coming and my feet just fall out from underneath me and I wind up embarrassed by the things I have said or done, my example failed again. I don't want to look the people around me in the face.   Sometimes, I am trying too hard to do something on my own that I am not cut out to do and the whole thing falls on top of me and I have no where to look but up...And maybe I should just stay away from church to save myself the humility of  biting the dust in front of the congregation.  But then I am reminded that if I never failed, if I never wound up down on the ground, I would have no need for a Savior.  I am less but He is more, and His love for me will always be enough!!

And I don't think that I am going to be able to stay away from basketball, we have too long of a history together (even if I do have a scraped up foot from the latest fall!)


     

         

Facing the Giants

The boys joined a basketball team.  They both love the sport but haven't really had the chance to participate in it since they are busy with travel hockey but they got this great opportunity to play on the same team.

The teams consist of 5th and 6th graders.  And the first game they played was pretty good.  We did lose, but only by one basket.  Not bad, I know.  The boys seemed unharmed and in good spirits.  Their steps were filled with strides, they had comeback from losing by quite a few, to just a shot.  Smiles were beaming and high fives were flying and in walks their next competitor, Team Detroit.

Towering young men file into the gym.  I have never seen so many ten to thirteen year olds that tall in all of my thirty four years but apparently they can be that size because I saw it in plain sight and so did our little basketball team.  Wide-eyed they stood and waited for the referee to toss the jump ball to begin the game.  And as the giant reaches easily, tipping the ball to his teammate, my husband looks at me and mutters,

"Oh boy, here we go..."

And so it began....and the next words out of his mouth were,

"It's like taking candy from a baby....what do you do with that?"

And the score board was filling up on one side, making it's way all the way to 60 something with our side still at 0.

Defeat was thick and hope was thin and just when we thought that our two sons were in the least bit athletically elite, we were so put in our place and humbled.....

And as I watched these boys literally facing the giants and never giving up, I was encouraged...

You see most days, I wake in the morning and feel beaten down and insufficient.  Giants are towering in the hectic schedules and cluttered closets.  They are lurking, waiting to knock me down and tell me what an incompetent mother I am...How I've failed as a wife, sister, daughter, friend...The scoreboard is definitely not in my favor as I tally up the mistakes.  Shortcomings and failures rack up and my good behavior points don't measure up far enough at all.

But I cannot allow all that is against me to keep me out of the game.  I may be facing some fierce opponents, giants... if you will...They may knock me down and bruise me hard.  They may take the ball from me just like taking candy from a baby, especially when I try to play all by myself.  Only when I pass the ball off, take the burden of my performance and hand it over to the only one in whom there is true victory...will I win.

Our boys, they played a tough game.  They never gave up and hung in there.  The final score was 78-13, with us finally making our first basket in the second half of the game.  Jonah is the one who made it and the other team cheered as loud as we did when it happened! And what a proud mama was I when all of the fans were all cheering for my sweet son! :)  Makes me wonder and imagine how proud our Heavenly Father must be of His one and only Son!

 O victory in Jesus

My Savior, forever

He sought me and bought me

With His redeeming blood

                                    Eugene Monroe Bartlett Sr.