An Unexpected Journey

I read the book to them for the zillionth time.  Eyes sparkle as if the words have never fallen on their ears before.  "Open!"  "Open!"  The one with curls exclaims and drags the bag of legos to my feet.  We stack the tower that is never finished because little hands much prefer to knock it down.  Then we make our daily attempt at using the crayons until the adventurous one takes a bite or two.  Back into the closet they go while I am hoping she has not acquired a permanent taste for colored wax. They call for a "Nack!" and I whisk them into the highchairs for a snack of goldfish and applesauce.   Giggles fill the room as I tickle our way through naming the body parts of my captive audience. Our days are mostly the same.  The routine doesn't change that much.  Except that it will in 4 weeks when we add another tiny, wiggly one to the mix.  I have the first short gasps of panic as I think of how we will all adjust when the gra...

I admit my attitude was not the best... ok, so it was a lot worse than that.  I walked in the door from my first day back to work at my part time job with the school after being off for the summer, and my excited munchkins made a beeline for me.  I reached down to embrace one of them who was headed for my legs with arms outstretched.  Before we could hug each other, she projectile vomited all over me.  Lets just say even my shoes were filled... I mean filled!   Ugh!  (Now, I know this is totally gross, but don't you people read this blog because it is "real?" :) My first thoughts, well, after "disgusting!!" were something like "Seriously, God?  I am eight months pregnant in 100 degree weather and the first day back from work looks like this?!"  I am sure none of you ever think that way... So the rest of that evening was hard.  We repeated versions of that welcome home scene quite a few times.  Between dodging puke, cleaning her an...

“And Rehoboam son of Solomon… did evil because he had not set his heart on seeking the Lord.”   The words seemed to reach up to me and curl around my thoughts   last night before I drifted off   to sleep.   It is so easy for us to “do evil.”   What earned the son of Isreal’s wisest and most glorious ruler, Solomon, this epilogue?   The simple fact that he did not purpose to seek the Lord.   I think of my own days… chasing toddlers, doing dishes, planning meals, sweeping the floors again and again.   It is so easy to seek other things- like a nap! Or that good feeling when the house is clean and the aroma of a healthy dinner wafts through the door to greet my hubby.   Or the satisfaction of talking with a friend.   None of these are bad.   But it is so easy for daily living to crowd out the one thing that makes all the difference in enjoying everything else…   the one thing that determines if we finish well…   the one t...

"I will dance for the King, all the days of my life..."  The music swirls around me during the morning worship service.  Memories reach in and wash over me.  Suddenly I am singing this song with her little legs wrapped around my waist and her blond head nestled into my shoulder... the weight of her arms tight around my neck. Then a new picture fills my imagination.. her little arms in the air as she twirls on her tiptoes.  Tiny bare feet dancing gracefully with the song.  She is radiant with joy and pure delight shines in her eyes as laughter flows from her lips.  Blond curls swooshing about.  I picture angels... commanding and majestic (forget chubby babies with wings- in scripture when people saw angels, they fell prostrate in fear!) gathered by the hundreds with booming voices ringing out the chorus.  Little children are swirling about their feet in total bliss.  Sounds that rival the delight of any Christmas morning break out with pea...

I sit on the crisp white bed in Makiah's room for a long time thinking about it first.  Bouncing my eyes from the beautiful oil painting of a castle in the sky to the bright picture she painted of a house and then back to the shelf displaying her favorite things.  I thought we might sell our house and God would spare me from this moment, but it hasn't worked out that way.  Our family is growing and this baby will soon need a room.  So I sit on her bed contemplating what I am about to do. I get a text.  It is from a friend far away.  She says I am on her heart and wants to know what I am doing.  Tears fill my eyes, and I think she must have a hidden camera in my house! She responds no... but God does.  She reminds me that He always fills in the gaps for us and that she is praying Jesus will wrap His arms  around me and that she wishes she lived close enough to help and hug me herself.  I am undone.  By the love of a Father sent thr...

I am a magnet for four year old girls. We have been on a little vacation with my parents, and at the pool I seem to have constant companions who want to play with the twins. And they are all four year old girls. And my sweeties love it. And I cannot help but go there... to the what ifs. A few hours before the accident Cameron had a bad feeling and we prayed Psalm 91 and asked for protection on our trip. An unanswered prayer. But what if God had answered us with a miracle? What if she were here with us? I think back to another "what if." What if I had gotten pregnant again when I planned? The pinings for baby number two started when Makiah was barely one. My whole life I had been waiting for the day when I would have a rowdy house full of sweet little munchkins. Every month was a roller coaster of excited hoping and then a crash of disappointment when that little test was negative again. I remember purposely trying to turn my energy and focus on my time with Makiah....

They seem to crash over me this week.  The waves.  Of grief.  My hubby told me once it was that way for him...  sorrow in waves.   My ears are filled with the sound of pounding on my heart’s shore.    They won’t look at her picture or say her name anymore.  My babies.  They love to point to the grandparents’ pictures or call the name of their aunt “Lala” (aka Laura).  But they turn their heads now when I show them Makiah’s picture.  They used to imitate excitedly, “Kiah!”  Now they turn away with lips gone silent.  And inside I feel a desperate cry and stabbing pain.  A wish to right this wrong. She isn’t real to them.  They have never seen her bouncing curls, felt her tickling touch, or heard her giggles.   She doesn’t come to visit.  Ever.   This mystery sister.   I know they are too young to understand, but that is not the point.  This is just the fi...