The Turning of the Wheel

Two years ago:

Two days ago:

The days roll past, turn to years, and those pass too. Babies grow into toddlers, and then children, and then young adults, adults, middle-aged, old, and so they pass too.

It is not easy, always, seeing this change. It is an ache in the heart, seeing them change so fast ... watching the older generation pass away, seeing the next rise to fill their shoes, knowing that your turn is coming, and that your children's turn will be next.

But there is hope, too. For there is always a next generation, always another batch to rise, always more children to grow into adults, take up the flame, carry on.

There are always more babies to sit in the old apple tree.

A Special Visit

Today is International Fairy Day (and Midsummer Day), and look who visited me!

(I hear it takes a while for the little ones to get wings.)

Two little woodland fairies dropped by, right in the middle of my gloomy day, to bring me some cheer. They were sisters, but as different as two fairies could be.

The big (relatively speaking) one was very sweet and gentle. She brought a couple friends along to cuddle.

The little one immediately took off, looking for mischief!

(And she found the mischief she was seeking, too.)

It wasn't long before they were both comfortable, flying and dancing around, and then I got to see their true faces:

Summer is ...

It has burned off by now, but this morning I awoke to a fine misty, moist day—the kind of day where it doesn't seem so much like there's a mist, but rather that the air has merely thickened, and you can almost see the "airish sprites" taking form.

Mornings like this always make me think of my childhood summers, spent up at my grandparents' camp on the lake. Surrounded by pine trees, I'd often wake up to the very same thick air, the mist rising off the water down at the bottom of the hill, and I would smile and be content, knowing that no matter what the weather was like, we would have fun.

Friday, we're going up to my parents' for the weekend. If all goes as Carl and I are expecting, the girls and I will stay until Thursday. There's no lake at Mom and Dad's house, but the girls already get that same expectant look about them when we go there that I remember having as we would drive up that windy dirt road to camp. They know that magic is going to happen.

Summer means freedom, and running in the grass, and splashing in water. It means shrieking with laughter and feeling like your face might crack from smiling. It's sunscreen and sweat and bug repellant. It's dirty feet and sticky hands. It's berries bursting with sweetness in your mouth. It's late night and fireflies and bonfires with marshmallows.

It's timeless. No matter how much the eras change and technology improves and life moves, children will always greet summer with shrieks of delight (even the homeschooled ones ... it's not just about getting out of school).

Summer is joy.

New Writing Processes

Yesterday, I had coherent thoughts and no chance for blogging. Today I have time, and a jumble of thoughts. Too many, really. Frustration at judgmental attitudes in people bearing the name of Christ. Bemusement at how much my children are growing and changing. And oh yeah, I stayed up an hour late last night writing.

Which was kind of glorious, actually.

It started as simple practicality. I had just finished a library book that got kind of intense toward the end, and rather than risk tossing and turning all night with half-dreams of werewolves, vampires, and fae (I hear you all laughing. Knock it off. Yes, I know my taste in literature is occasionally questionable. All I can say is, Patricia Briggs does paranormal really well. At least I wasn't reading a book whose title is synonymous with dusk), I decided to work on the next chapter in my Gwen fic.

Which resulted in a happy hour all by myself downstairs, with just one soft light on, tapping away on my laptop. I knew that it might make me cranky this morning when Carl plopped Gracie in my arms at 6 or 6:30 this morning on his way to the shower, but hey, I'm usually cranky at that hour in the morning regardless of what time I fell asleep.

And it worked, because I slept quite soundly, untroubled by any creepy dreams.

And I wasn't too cranky when Gracie started crawling all over me, not even when she stomped on my sore legs (overdid the squatting and standing when we were picking strawberries on Saturday).

I am a good 30,000 words into my Gwen fic, which has me reeling, quite honestly. I've never had a story come together this quickly. It's taken a completely different direction from where I'd originally intended it to go, but that's fine with me. Sometimes I consider that a good sign, because it means the characters have really come alive and taken over their own story.

And come alive they have. This sounds boastful, but I adore them all. Meggie was darling, but she and her lot were more representative of the idyllic side of LMM, not necessarily very real. She and Will took on more real characteristics once they moved to Grey Harbour, but overall, her stories were all soft and gentle and sweet.

Gwen and her lot, though ... Gwen is clumsy and clueless and insecure, with a big heart. Phil was supposed to be all jolly and chummy; Jack was originally cast in the mold of Walter; Jo was ... not like he is. Jo sort of defies description, even to me. But I love him. And I love Phil's seriousness and maturity. And Jack's kind nature and friendly spirit. Lee is the only one who fits into the more traditional LMM mold, and I find I'm shipping her off to the House of Dreams to play with her cousins more and more, so I don't have to write much about her. Honestly? She bores me a little, in comparison to this vibrant band of cousins, siblings, and friends that have appeared on these pages.

The only other thing really worth mentioning (at least at this point) regarding this story is the way I'm writing it. I have always had a tendency, when plotting out a story in my head, to envision certain scenes from later on in the story in my head. They usually come when I'm in the shower or washing dishes, and it unfolds beautifully, and I think "Boy, I can't wait until I get to that part of the story." Then, by the time I get there, of course I've forgotten the original brilliance.

So, I've started writing out the scenes as they come. One of the very first chapters I wrote for this fic was one that takes place halfway through. Last night I worked on another later chapter - this one will be closer to the end of the story. I've always been a linear thinker and writer - I had to write the story out in chronological order. Writing scenes - full chapters, even! - out of sequence was kind of anathema to me. But now I'm doing it, and I think it's making me a better writer, and it's certainly helping to shape the story. When I know how certain later events happen, because I've already written them, well, it forces me to stick to a certain path with writing the earlier chapters.

I'm curious now, all you other fiction writers out there: how do you write your stories? In chronological procession, or do you jump around, write some later scenes first, however they come to you?

Also, for anyone who is reading my Gwen fic, who is your favorite character thus far, and why? (Just curious on that one.)

The girls have finally finished breakfast, and Gracie is trying to steal Joy's cup, and I think I'd better wrap this up and go be Mamma instead of Blogger. Have a lovely day, my friends!

Contentment

I woke up this morning before either girl was awake. I spent probably a full hour lying in bed, drifting between asleep and awake, dreaming yet controlling my dreams, sending them the way I wanted them to go.

Then I got up, had a few minutes with Carl before he left for work, and got myself some coffee and my computer, fried myself up a couple of eggs, and here I am.

Alone.

Quiet.

Content.

I'm starting to hear a few noises from upstairs now, so in a few moments my peaceful time will be over and it will be back to fetching juice, feeding breakfast, changing diapers, helping with potty, being alert, being aware, being there.

I'm not complaining. Really. I know I have complained about this in the past, but this is not complaining. Lately I've been becoming aware of just how precious these days are, and how quickly they will be gone. Just yesterday I was retching and moaning while pregnant with Joy - now Gracie is over a year old and fully weaned. Poof. Just like that.

Before the girls came along, my days stretched out long and empty before me. While Carl was at work, I had all the free time in the world. Time to write. Time to read. Time to study, to scrapbook, to sew, to quilt, to bake ...

And I was bored. Carl would get home, ready to rest and relax, and I would beg him to go out, let's do something fun, let's go see people, I'm going crazy here!

I'm reminding myself of that, these days. These days when I beg the girls "Just give Mamma a few minutes to breathe, please." God has blessed me beyond what I could have imagined in these two treasures, and slowly, I'm starting to realize that, instead of longing for the day when they will be more able to fend for themselves.

Oh, not that I don't still get frustrated, and not that I don't get terribly excited over the idea of them not needing me every single second of the day, but that slowly, I'm learning to treasure up these moments, too.

Yesterday, I made finger paint and watched the girls spread it all over themselves and the kitchen, with very little going on the paper. I tried to help them make handprints, and watched as instead they made blobs of paint. They laughed. I laughed. I didn't stop to think, "Oh I wish I could be checking Facebook or Twitter right now, because I might be missing something that's happening." I didn't care about what I might be missing in the world at large. If I'm constantly checking in with the world, I might be missing the moments here.

Gracie's downstairs with me now, eating Cheerios in her high chair. I keep pausing in the typing of this to make faces at her, and watch the faces she makes back. Sometimes I stop just to stare at her little bare feet. She's been practicing standing every chance she gets, and whenever Joy is around she runs over to stand right next to Grace and hold her hand. I always find myself looking at their feet, side by side. Joy's were once as tiny as Grace's are now - smaller, in fact, because Gracie has much wider feet than Joy. It wasn't that long ago that Joy was practicing standing and walking, though never with as much boldness as Gracie does it. Now she runs everywhere, loves shoes, chatters away the entire day, insists on helping with everything.

These days are fun, if I just let myself live it, instead of wishing for something else. You know what? The writing will always be there, a part of me. The crafting will wait. The books won't go away. These girls, though, are changing every minute. They won't always be here, so I'm going to make the most of my days with them. I'm going to paint and play and count and read ... oh, I'll still make time for me, for my own interests. This isn't an announcement of giving up blogging, or anything like that. Just a shifting of my way of thinking, a shifting of priorities.

I loved my quiet time this morning. If it didn't require getting up at 5:30, I'd try to capture that every morning. I loved having a few minutes just to breathe.

But I'm loving it even more now, with a baby loudly chewing her cereal beside me, rocking her high chair back and forth, chugging at her juice and wrinkling her nose at me to make me laugh.

And when Joy gets up, and want to help open and close the refrigerator every time I need something out of it, when she needs to sit on the potty twelve times in one hour, when she and Gracie go tearing through the house after each other ...

I'm going to love that too.

"LORD, you have been our dwelling place

in all generations.

Before the mountains were brought forth,

or ever you had formed the earth and the world,

from everlasting to everlasting you are God.

...So teach us to number our days

that we may get a heart of wisdom.

...Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,

that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.

...Let the favor of the LORD our God be upon us,

and establish the work of our hands upon us;

yes, establish the work of our hands!"

Psalm 90, various

Whew

I took a pregnancy test (left over from when I was expecting Gracie) this afternoon, just to relieve my mind.

It said "not pregnant."

I am relieved.

Except now I need a different reason as to why I am cranky, nauseous, tired, and hungry all the time.

Maybe I need to eat more and sleep more.

Maybe I need a vacation?

I have to go put Joy back in bed again for her nap.

It's been a long day, and it'll be longer before it's over.

But at least I'm not pregnant.

Louise's Rules

Joy and I are still sitting at the dining room table. Gracie long since finished her breakfast and is maneuvering around the floor. My food is eaten, too, but I'm here to mention to Joy every thirty seconds or so to "Eat your food!" She had the appetite of a bird, and I am starting to suspect that sometimes even when she's hungry she just doesn't want the bother of eating. So, I'm starting to get strict. Today I told her she was not allowed to get down until she's at least eaten some of her breakfast. Seriously, she asked for Cheerios, a biscuit, and grapes this morning, and then sat staring aimlessly at them for half an hour, until I put one bite in her mouth and told her she had to eat something.

She's not happy with me right now. Big surprise. At least this gives me a good chance to blog without feeling guilty—what else can I do while sitting at the table just waiting for the girl to eat her food?

Meanwhile, Gracie will eat anything and everything you put in front of her, and then still ask for more. At this rate, the little sister will outweigh the big sister in no time.

&&&

Yesterday evening I went for a walk once Carl was putting the girls to bed. It was short, just about ten minutes, but it was amazing to me how much it affected my mood. I had spent the entire day cleaning the house (and washing a zillion loads of laundry), and as always was exhausted and burnt out by the time 7:00 hit. (This happen even when I don't spend the day cleaning, for the record.) So rather than just slump down and wish I had enough energy to write or sew or study or anything, I headed out for a walk.

The air was fresh; the neighbors had mowed their lawn earlier and the smell of fresh-mown grass was everywhere; nobody was talking to me or demanding my attention or needing me to do something ... I didn't even think about much of anything, just let my mind drift. I came back re-energized and was able to fold the rest of my laundry (I think this is the first time I managed to fold the laundry the same day I washed it!), and then get in some quilting.

The decisions I made a little while ago, to simplify my life, have been paying off. I no longer feel compelled to rush through the quilt I'm currently working on, short-changing this project just to get to the next. I am retaining and enjoying much more of the biography I'm reading, because I'm not reading several other books at the same time. I'm slowing down, breathing, letting myself enjoy my days instead of hurrying and scurrying through them, dashing from one thing to the next without thinking about what I'm doing, just trying to get it all done.

Mom and Dad and I are all big fans of NCIS, and as I was talking to Dad this past weekend about my attempts at slowing down, he said I should start making "rules" for life, like Gibbs does. No matter what the situation, just refer to the rules. Mine won't be quite so interesting as Gibbs' (I especially like Rule #40: If it seems someone is out to get you, they are; and Rule #23: Never mess with a Marine's coffee if you want to live), but somewhat in jest and somewhat in earnest, here's a tentative start to Louise's Rules:

#1: Live joyfully
#2: There's never a situation so bad that a sense of humor can't get you through
#3: One thing at a time; finish what you begin before starting something new
#4: Don't live by others' expectations
#5: Take time to breathe
#6: People are more important than things [that one is from my mother, actually]
#7: Look for beauty every day

I'm sure there are more, but they aren't coming to me at the moment. Any suggestions to add to the list? I'd love to hear what "rules" you consider essential for life!

(If I were writing a set of these for Joy, right now #1 would be: Eat your breakfast! She's managed to get half her biscuit and a good number of grapes in her now. It's better than nothing!)

Wedding: Check!

We are back from the wedding. Thank goodness. This was the biggest event of our jam-packed-full summer, and now that it is done, we can move on.

Both girls survived the weekend remarkably well; Joy was an adorable flower girl who only got a little bored during the ceremony and was placated fairly well by being handed my bouquet to play with (she'd already dumped all of her petals on the ground). Grace sat with Papa and was squirmy but quiet. We praised both girls to the skies afterward!

There were a few amusing bobbles, like when I realized as the DJ was announcing the toast that I had gotten so caught up in dress and hair and other matron-of-honor and mother-of-flower-girl responsibilities that I had utterly and completely forgotten to prepare my toast! Thankfully, improvisational skills are a family tradition, so I was able to cobble something together spur-of-the-moment, and Carl told me afterward that it was a lovely toast. I began by saying: "I forgot my cue cards, so you'll have to bear with me," and told Carl later "I really, really forgot the cue cards - as in, forgot to make them!"

Carl and I also came to the very important conclusion that we as Christians, in general, do weddings all wrong. I know I've touched on this before, but it was made even more plain to us this weekend. For any couple, Christian or not, it seems utterly foolish to start out this partnership we call marriage with so much stress and exhaustion and expense. For Christians especially, though, weddings today just seem counter-productive. Think about it: marriage is a picture of Christ's love for the church. It is a picture of sacrifice and quiet devotion, of humility and grace and loving the unlovely. And what do we do? We wrap it up in fuss and frippery and empty tradition until any meaning anything had is completely obscured by the trappings.

Oh well. Hopefully we can succeed in instilling in our girls a desire to go against common tradition when it comes to their weddings, and hopefully they will marry men (if they marry at all, which will totally be up to them because we will encourage them to pursue all their dreams even if those dreams don't include marriage!) who believe the same.

One other item worth mentioning from the weekend - I forgot my camera, left it sitting right here at home, so I really didn't get any pictures except a couple snapped with the camera on my phone. However, some of the other bridesmaids, and the bride herself, had cameras, so we were able to get some pictures of Joy and me, and I received promises of emails, so hopefully at some point you will get to see us all dolled up. In any case, I am going to dress Joy up in her dress again at some point and get some pictures of her on my own, and you know I will end up doing an entire blog post with those!

In other news, Gracie pushed herself from hands and feet to standing all on her own, without holding onto anything, yesterday, so I anticipate seeing her start to walk in just about a month, maybe less. She and Joy also had us in stitches on the ride home, as she was squawking loudly along to the music in the car under the impression she was singing, and every time she paused for breath Joy piped up "Good job!"

They are getting to be so fun, and hopefully now that this wedding is behind us there will be less stress and we'll all start to enjoy life more now.

We can hope.

Engineers in Training

Grace: "Looking objectively at this map, I'm not entirely sure these road and bridge structures are sound. I vote we redesign the plans entirely."

Joy: "Let me test it all first to see where it needs improvement."

Grace: "I TOLD you that bridge wasn't capable of holding that kind of weight! NOW look what has happened!"
Joy: "Yeah, but wasn't it fun watching the truck go crashing through? Woo-hoo, what a rush!"

Grace: "Time to get serious here, sister. Think of what Papa would say if he saw these design flaws."
Joy:"Good point. All righty then, to work!"

Grace: "I think we're on to something here!"
Joy: "Yeah, this all seems much more secure. Less fun to watch, though. Oh well. You can't have it all."

As I looked through and edited these pictures last night, I couldn't help but think how much they both looked like what they are - engineer's daughters. Interestingly enough, in real life their personalities are opposite: Grace would be the gung-ho, damn the torpedos type, while Joy is so much more cautious and careful. (I write, as out of the corner of my eye I see her climbing over the edge of the couch and diving headfirst into the cushions. Sigh.) Ahem. Anyway, for the sake of fitting the captions to the pictures, I reversed their typical roles.

My Joy

My Grace, aka Snuffleupagus, or Major Kira from Star Trek: DS9

Redeeming Words

For all the blathering I do on this blog, there are certain topics I just don't touch.

I don't talk about my grandmother's Alzheimer's.

I haven't mentioned the friend from home who recently lost both legs (and came within an inch of losing his life) in Afghanistan.

I stay away from Carl's complicated family.

I still have a difficult time talking about my great-grandmother, dead for more than ten years.

Etc, etc.

It's not a blog matter - I don't talk about these sorts of things much in real life, either. The deeper something goes with me, the harder it becomes for me to find adequate words. I've always described myself as a private person, and to most that seems incongruous, because I am always talking, always laughing, very open and honest.

And yet.

Carl and I have our sixth anniversary coming up in a little over a month. It's only been in the last year that I've talked to him about some happenings from my childhood that sank in deep and lasted. (Nothing terribly horrific, just careless teasing that got taken too seriously by this sensitive kid, that sort of thing.) Six years of marriage, one year of dating, one year of close friendship before that ... and only now have I been able to talk to him about the matters that are closest to my heart. And he's my husband! I would never dream of sharing this stuff with others.

And part of it is that I am so private, but part of it is those pesky words. How to find the right words to show these real, raw emotions, without confusing or obstructing the matter?

When I have friends who are hurting, I have the most terrible time talking to them. I want to help ... but words seem so inadequate, again. I'm very good at listening ... not so much at speaking comfort. Can't I just give you a hug?

I love words. I love expressing through language. But when it comes to the things that are most important, words fail me. Sometimes I think language is better at concealing truth than expressing it.

Surely, it wasn't this way before the Fall. Surely, at one point, words could perfectly express both thought and emotion, and they were understood as they were intended. Surely, someday, we will be able to use language in its perfect form again.

Until then, I will keep struggling along, fighting my own small battle to redeem language, trying, though most often I fail, to shape these broken words into a form that expresses, however imperfectly, my heart. And at the same time, maybe I will gain the courage to show my heart without fear.

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies." -Romans 8:18-23

Flower Girl

"What do you mean, I can't wear my flower girl dress while putting away groceries?"

Joy's new favorite outfit ... especially with the fluffy petticoat underneath.

Hope Does Not Put Us to Shame

The heavens have opened, and the rain is pouring down. This is one of the few times that I actually like living in the midst of a tree nursery. Our house is surrounded by young trees and bushes, and with this rain everything is glistening a vibrant green against a grey background, and it feels like we're in a jungle. It's a nice rain, a summer rain, a rain that smells of growing things and richness.

I am at the dining room table enjoying my iced coffee and Cheerios. The rest have finished eating and are in the living room. Carl is taking care of finances at the desk, and the girls are playing. I can hear Joy's chatter as she announced everything that she, Gracie, or Papa does as he or she is doing it. We call her our "House Crier" and nothing escapes her notice. This can be embarrassing, say, when we're in a public restroom and she loudly proclaims every detail of my bodily functions ... but here at home I like it, because I know what's happening even if I can't see her. Gracie is getting into mischief and being cute about it, as usual. It's nothing terribly naughty or dangerous, so I'll let it slide. Her mouth has been hurting her so badly these last few days, it's a delight to hear her making happy noises for a change.

Yesterday, everything built up to the point where I was near tears or screaming or both. I put the girls down for their afternoon naps (Gracie screaming in her crib, but I didn't even care for once), and snapped at Carl that I was taking a walk, and bolted out the door as if Furies were pursuing me. It almost felt like they were; I could practically feel their whips curling around my heels. I must have presented an incongruous sight ... wearing a pink sundress and flip-flops, charging down the road with my fists clenched and my jaw locked grimly. I didn't particularly care about what other people thought, though. I was fighting it out with God.

"I can't do it, I can't do this, I can't stay like this for another three years," I chanted under my breath as I walked. I finally just stopped thinking and forced my mind to rest, to focus solely on the movement of my body, the rhythm of my feet on the pavement. My ankles are not the strongest, and if I'm not careful I can turn them pretty easily when I'm walking. Especially if I'm only wearing flip-flops, which are not the world's best footgear.

As I reached the halfway point and started on the loop home, I paused for a moment. That one spot in the road is the only place we can see the mountains quite clearly where we live. As always, that grand old verse came to my mind: "I lift up my eyes to the hill. From where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth."

My joy, my peace, does not come from circumstances. My help does not come from the hills, the high places where Israel sacrificed to false gods. My help comes from the one who created the mountains, created the world, created even the circumstances in which we live.

It won't be like this for the next three years. It will be frustrating, yes. But Joy is working on her last two second-year molars, and once they are through she will be done teething. If Gracie follows the same pattern, she will have all her teeth in two years. Carl had a minor procedure done on Friday, and he was forced to spend Saturday recuperating. That's not something that will need to be done again, leaving me with two small children on my hands and an almost-invalid. Soon, very soon, Joy will be old enough to start being more of a help. Gracie won't need such constant attention.

Who knows? By God's grace, we may even find a church this fall. We may even make friends.

"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." - Romans 5:3-5

"I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the LORD,
who made heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, he who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

The LORD is your keeper;
the LORD is your shade on your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.

The LORD will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
The LORD will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time forth and forevermore." - Psalm 121

Planet Narnia?

I was just starting to write out a detailed outline for my post-VDT fic when I saw this review by Tom Wright for "Planet Narnia," by Michael Ward. The review was intriguing, to say the least, and then I trotted over to Amazon and added the book and Lewis's own The Discarded Image to my wish list. Now I'm starting to feel like I really shouldn't even plot out any more until reading these books, because they might heavily influence how the story unfolds. As always, story-telling leads to research, which leads to new stories being told, which leads to more research ... it's a never-ending cycle, and I love it.

The bad part is, Carl was hoping to wait until July to make any more book purchases, and I'm not sure I can wait that long! I will try to be good ... I will try, babe.

Thankfully, I also recently started a new LMM fic, which ought to keep me fairly happily occupied for a few weeks, at least.

There's always something to write!

Deals With Weddings

Joy and I are getting ready for Tia Ash's wedding in a little over one week. We are practicing walking down an aisle, I'm messing about with fancy hairstyles, and I'm letting Joy wear her flower girl dress so she gets used to it. It's all very fun.

Lis took this one, while at Mom and Dad's. Or maybe Carl took it. I stick my tongue out at both of them, rather often.

Apparently I think that looking stern while taking a self-portrait in the mirror helps the camera focus better. Didn't seem to work, here.

You can't see my face in this one, but I'm pretty sure I had a stern expression here, too.

Mom made Joy's dress. It's darling, and way too much like a bride's gown for me to be entirely comfortable with it. Who decided flower girls should look like miniature brides, anyway? Joy's not going to be thinking about marriage for at least forty years. Just ask her father.

She does find the dress quite comfortable, though, and would probably wear it all the time if I let her. Which I would do, if it weren't white. I've ordered a petticoat to go under it and give the skirt some fullness, but if it doesn't get here in time (I have my doubts about this company's reliability), I think she'll still look just fine.

It's fun. We're kind of stressed about this wedding, but it's nice to get some kicks out of it.

Now all I have to do is convince Joy that she really can walk and toss flowers out of a basket at the same time.

Thank You

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to Adrienne and Laura (and celebratinglifeandmotherhood over at Xanga) for leaving me such encouraging comments yesterday, and thanks also to those of you who did not comment but prayed for me. And many, many thanks to darling Laura for the phone chat last night; it was thoroughly delightful.

I am, by God's grace, feeling better today. (It also helps to know that it is - ahem - a certain time of month when hormones run rampant. I shall say no more on this subject.) Yesterday I managed to get the house not only tidied up, but swept, polished, scrubbed, etc. I even changed the sheets on all our beds, something that happens far too infrequently around here (in my defense, I can only say that changing sheets with two little girls who like to jump on the bed, lean against the side, and climb to the top of the sheet and blanket pile and sit there, is no easy chore). It only took a few hours, and I found it much easier to calm down with a sparklingly clean house around me.

I even managed to read a few stories to Joy, and get down on the floor to play and cuddle with both girls after lunch.

Today, I got the unexpected and extremely rare gift of almost an hour to myself this morning. Joy is awake - I just heard her door open, so she'll be trotting downstairs in a couple minutes - but she's been playing happily in her bed for a half hour, and Gracie made one peep this morning and then went back to sleep. I came downstairs to see Carl off, and then was able to eat a muffin, have my iced coffee, and (best of all) go to the bathroom All By Myself without my two little voyeurs watching me. It's so nice to start my day with a bit of quietness and peace.

I have also decided that I am starting no new craft projects for an indefinite time - I'm thinking a year, possibly - so that I can finish the ones I have on hand. That does mean, sadly, that some of my expecting friends will be getting bought presents for their wee ones instead of something I made myself, but I can't keep piling up the things I have to get done, which only leads to frustration and panic and not getting anything done.

(I am stating right here and now, though, that I reserve the right to break this rule if certain friends (like Lis, or a couple others I can't think of right now but I know are there) get pregnant (or decide to adopt) before next June. Just sayin'.)

(Also, if we move Gracie into a big bed before next year (which I don't think we are, but just in case), I will make her a quilt to go with Sissy's. I think that's the end of my caveats.)

I am also going to try (no promises on this one) to only read one book at a time for the next year, too, so that I can hopefully finish books in a reasonable period, and retain what I've read. I have a tendency toward reading one nonfiction and one fiction book at the same time, but of course I prefer fiction so I always read that one first, and then start another fiction, and before you know it I've read half a dozen fiction books and my nonfiction is still sitting there. Reproachfully.

Simple changes, but hopefully they will help to slow me down, keep me calmer, help me not to feel so overwhelmed.

(You might notice I am making no changes regarding writing. That's because that is the one area of my life where I have actually become decent at finishing what I start. See, fanfiction is good for something!)

Joy is not yet downstairs, so I think I will end this post now and go check on her, make sure she's not in the baby's room saying "HI BABY GRACIE" at the top of her lungs, or disemboweling one of her toys, or trying to go potty in the upstairs bathroom and getting it all over the floor ...

So long. I better go before I think of even worse things she might be doing.

Struggling

I'm feeling discouraged today.

I am overwhelmed by all the projects I have going on. Discouraged that I have such a hard time finishing what I start.

I am frustrated that my house is never clean anymore. I used to keep it sparkling ... now I have a hard time just washing dishes.

Angry with myself that I don't spend more time just playing with my girls, instead of tending the million other things in my life.

Wishing it - life - was just a little bit easier.

Almost wishing I was pregnant, because then at least I'd have an excuse for all of these things, instead of knowing it's me, just me, my flaws and failings.

Last weekend was wonderful, relaxing and resting and playing and all those good, necessary things. And now I'm back home, and I don't have the inclination to do anything. At all.

And while yes, I am aware that this is just a season, that it will pass, that no time lasts forever, I am afraid that I am sinking into habits - habits of indolence, of selfishness, of self-pity - that will not change, even when the time passes. Habits, once established, have a nasty tendency of sticking.

I know - I know - that just feeling blue about all this isn't going to change anything. I have to change. I have to make the effort. I need to dump some projects, work hard to finish others. I need to take the time to clean. I need to prioritize, put my girls ahead of my own interests, focus on them. I know this. It is my responsibility.

And I will try. But sometimes, before you can take that first step, you just need to release, to express, you know? At least I do. Always, always, writing out how I feel has helped me recognize and control those feelings.

So I'm writing. And also, asking for your prayers. Because human effort is never enough to change one's habits and life. At least, there might be some who can change themselves simply by trying hard, but I do not have that kind of willpower. For any change to happen in me, it has to come by the Holy Spirit's work. Not that I am relying solely on him, sitting back and folding my hands and saying "Change me, Lord!", but recognizing that all my efforts are naught without his power.

So yes, prayers are coveted in the biblical sense. And any encouraging words you feel like dropping, those would be appreciated too.

Because one of the other things that is discouraging, and that possibly is affecting me in all these other aforementioned areas, is my lack of friendship, fellowship, and encouragement/exhortation from other believers. No church, no friends, family far away, Carl usually busy with his studies and not really needing to hear again how discouraged I am ... it's a lonely time, just my girls and me and nobody and nothing else.

This blog, the internet, is my only source of friendship, pretty much my only connection to the world right now. So I'm asking you, blogging friends, to help me through this time. Kick my rear or pat my head, whichever style you prefer, I'm not picky.

Thanks.

"Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." -Hebrews 4:14-16

(One of the most hope-filled passages in all Scripture)

Return

Alas and alack, we are back.

Not that I'm not happy to be home, but ...

Well, would you want to leave all that? Would you?