Monday, May 22, 2017

On The Edge of Bloom












 
I have started so many blogs posts.  They are all unfinished.  It has been so long since I have written anything, and truthfully, I think I have a sort-of writer's block.  If you know me, that's pretty hilarious, since I always have something to say.  I have missed this place, my happy place, but it has been a long winter.

There are so many things I have wanted to share.  Some amazing experiences I have had, and hard lessons that I am learning.  I'll start a post, and quickly realize that because of where we are at as a family, I really can't talk about a whole lot, for the sake of my kiddos.  A lot of what we have gone through this winter wasn't pretty.  I don't like to rant, and I don't want pity, so I found myself not knowing what to say. I'd love to share a knitting or creative project, but there's been no time for that this winter, either. So, instead, there has been silence from the keyboard.   So sorry.

While this was one of the coldest, wettest seasons on record for the Pacific Northwest, I can only say that the weather has mirrored my homelife.  It's been a little ugly here, muddy, and grey, with only a few sunbreaks.  I know can only speak in parables for so long, and I hate it.  I always wish to speak straight from the heart, that is really who I am; but parables it must be, and some of you who can relate to things that I am going through, you will know what I mean! I am exhausted in every possible way: emotionally, physically, mentally.  The past few months of running around have been the craziest they have ever been in my life! 

There is a paradise of natural beauty all around me, but I'm so busy running around I don't have much time to enjoy it.  Still, I am so thankful to live out here, for after that exhausting trip to a specialist, or that school meeting, or yet another trip to the discount grocery store to feed the kiddos, or to the feed store for the animals, or another doctor's appointment.......

I'll slip outside, breathe, and look around me.

Sometimes I'll shed a few tears.

It is beautiful.

I will kneel and pray, all alone, nothing but the sounds of birds and the breeze in the air.

I will smell the sweet perfume of Lilacs and Wisteria,

and I will be so grateful for this wild ride that I am on, because it just-so-happens to be that I am at the toughest part of it all now.


It was a hard winter, and a long one. 
I have slogged my way through so much mud and rain. Wondering all the while, if all this work is worth it.





For so many long weeks here things have been on the edge of blooming.  I have been so impatient, weeding, watching, waiting.  I keep checking the rose buds and sighing.  Things are about a month behind what they were last year, and it's hard to wait.  But while the farm and garden are important, I can't shake off the feeling that my most important work, the stuff that goes into my family, is a sort of waiting too, and that these kids of mine, and the amazing people that they are becoming, are all on the edge of bloom too.


If you'll pardon the parables, there are so many days I get up in the morning, wondering if I have the strength for just one more exhausting day of all this.

But when the blooms do finally start to burst open I know:

It's gonna be so beautiful.












Thursday, December 29, 2016

The Christmas Tree Tantrum, and Mittens




 
 
 



 
 

 
I've long said that our fake Christmas tree of the past 10 years has many times saved my marriage.  Long gone were the fights about how many lights to put on the tree, finding the 'perfect' tree, and what size would actually fit into our house.


Something nostalgic about having a daughter all grown-up possessed us to go cut down a real tree.  Our kids were thrilled, however, after getting it into the house I was reminded of all the reasons why we had a fake one in the first place.  I hated it, and threw a tantrum just like my two-year-old.  I wanted it to be perfect! It was not.  It wasn't full and even.  There was a large gap on one side, not hidden by turning the tree.  To fit it into the house, we had to cut off all the bottom branches, where the fullness had been.  It bothered me for days.  What I didn't realize, was that after all the lights were on, and the ornaments in place, it's natural beauty would shine through.  The imperfections of a real tree, of course, become part of it's charm.  It did finally grow on me, until I loved it, and I learned an important lesson, I think.


The 'perfect' tree, however, ended up being a tiny, two and a half foot, ugly, artificial tree in our son's hospital room this month.  We brought it with us, and hung some mini-lights and ornaments on it to cheer the space. It brought comfort to us, as well as joy to doctors, nurses, and visitors that came by.


Image may contain: plant, christmas tree and indoor

I had never imagined or thought about what an extended stay in a children's hospital could be like in the month of December.  Our son had a scheduled, expected, procedure that went well, however as the days passed, I saw many things that opened my eyes and my heart: cancer patients in pain, little babies hooked-up to tubes and alone, and the best, most patient, nurses in the whole world.  I met mothers who had been in and out of the hospital for months with their little ones.


During my stay there, I managed to finish some knitting projects: some gnomes and some booties.  I ran across a baby Norwegian cap I had knitted this summer, and as you know if you are a knitter, all baby hats are cursed; this one about two sizes too small for a newborn.  It was stuffed into the bottom of the knitting bag, having been forgotten.  I know God puts us in the right place at the right time though, because that little hat sized for a doll, made it's way down to the Neo-natal ICU, where it was very gratefully accepted.  So, I knitted on, finally finishing my very first pair of Norwegian mittens.


They were hard, not so much because of the knitting, I'm sure I could make them again, but because all the tedious pattern following.  Keeping my place on the chart with all of those little squares, while keeping the momentum of four small needles going was tricky.  I could not have done it at home with a two-year-old tugging at me, and while I had imagined a garland full of different Norwegian mittens, this one pair may be it. As I look at them I will always remember the kind nurses and staff at the hospital, that commented on my knitting, and watched my progress, some saying, "I always wanted to learn to do that!"   I am convinced that all the best Christmas angels work in children's hospitals.




We were released just three days before Christmas.  By then, most of the rooms had emptied, except for the few patients that would probably be staying there over the holiday weekend.  The day we were to go home was such a joy for us, but I found myself praying for all those we left behind. I left a part of my soul there.  I came home a little different: a little more grateful, a little less selfish, a little more aware, I hope.


Our Christmas was lovely.  Our Charlotte wanted "those things that farmers wear" and put her new overalls on right over her polka-dot sleeper pajamas.  Our Cookie got a teddy bear bigger than she is, and cuddled right up.  Our boys got new minky-soft blankets.  Our oldest got a vinyl Heart record and a guitar pedal.  It was a Christmas I won't soon forget, one where my own heart grew a few sizes bigger. 









Merry Christmas to all of our dear friends and family, we love you so much, and we wish you the most Happy New Year!