An Unexpected Journey

My washer and dryer seem to hum their tune endlessly these days.  Tiny pink pajamas and bibs and burp cloths and downy blankets stirring up the song.  I am in the kitchen dancing with the broom over a pile pure white.  Turns out the table is not a safe place to leave the salt shaker!  Tumultuous laughter leaks out from under the bathroom door where the twins are splashing in the bathtub.  I hear their daddy exclaim, "No cannon balls!"  Every few steps I stop to put little bit's pacifier back in her mouth and buy another minute or two.  I lean in to peer at the places that won't sweep up and notice they are tiny stickers stuck on tight.  I grin because I haven't seen stickers for two years until this past week. And I wouldn't trade a minute of it.  I am absolutely giddy about my pink little loads of laundry.  When I am tempted to wish I wasn't dancing with the broom, I remind myself of the reason that my floors are constantly sticky!...

I would say I am sorry for not blogging more often, but really I am not.  It is hard to type while you are holding a baby and for the last 6 weeks my arms have been quite full!  Even now my newest bundle is pressed warm on my chest here in the overstuffed recliner.  She can feel the rhythm of my breathing soft against her head.  Her ear pressed in close to my heart.  The familiar beat lulling her to sweet sleep. Is this how God longs to hold us? Wrapped up tightly in strong but tender arms. His life breath pouring over us.   Our ears pressed tightly to His chest. Pulled in close where we can hear His heartbeat. And when we scream and struggle, He whispers words of comfort. And pulls us even closer.  To hear the sweet song He sings over us. Yes, I think this must be how it is.  Even when we don't comprehend the words of the song.  He still sings.  And eventually we learn to recognize the melody.   Then we stop ...

I can't get the words out of my head so I think I will write them.  Over and over I turn them.  Trying to wrap my mind around what they really mean.  For me.  Oh I forget for a few hours or maybe even a day or two.  But they just seem to keep tapping me on the shoulder, demanding that I pay them attention. Do not love the world or anything in the world... Well, if I am honest, I love a lot of things in the world.  I love most anything chocolate.  I like hot baths and good magazines, the cooking channel, and lazy days spent shopping (I don't have those anymore but I can still think they are fabulous!).  Mexican restuarants...  melty s'mores by a crackling fire on a crisp, cool night... I could go on and on. ...for if anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. Wow, that seems so strong.   Except maybe it means if the love of the Father is in me, I will be too full to love the world.  I won't have an appetite...

Hot tears flood my eyes as I see rainbow toe pictures posted on Facebook.  Makiah's beloved preschool teachers are still remembering her in their classroom.  Papillon salon in Thomasville is donating part of the rainbow toe pedicures to the Well Project.  Even a girl scout troop is remembering her.  I got an amazing card from a sweet prayer lady and another from a mommy who lost her own child.  She is remembering my girl even though we have never met.  A pile of clothes came for my new little ones from a sweet cousin who must know that I think shopping is better than any medicine!  I really didn't expect people to remember the 2nd anniversary of her heaven day.  My heart is pricked by the beautiful notes and pictures sent my way. Not many of us would choose suffering if we were given the option.    I certainly wouldn't.  In a moment of agony just recently I gritted my teeth and told God between the sobs that I didn't want this sto...

Stroking softest cheeks.  Tracing perfect ears.  Running downy hair through fingers that cannot get enough.  A perfectly pretty package.  Such gifts of grace as these.  Four of them I have been given.  Three still near to me.  While gifts bring such joy, their loss brings such pain.  But when my sleepy thoughts hear the beckoning to wander down that stony path of agony and weeping, I will say not today.  I cannot stop the tear that slips beneath my eyelid, but I can avoid the torrents calling out my name.  I press  trembling lips to littlest cheeks  and tell her these are kisses.  And she will love them so.  But not as much as mommy.  I whisper near her ear.  A prayer of thanks to her Maker and that I will never forget.  Gifts formed in secret.  Healing wrapped in every touch.   My Maddie Grace

She is here in all her perfect squeezable little pinkness... Madelyn Grace King aka "Maddie Grace" 6lb 13oz and 20 inches long born September 21st Our fourth princess! The Twins greet Maddie Grace in their big sister shirts... still not sure what they think of this little squirmy bundle!

My bags are packed and itty, bitty clothes have that oh so sweet smell of baby detergent.  Red, yellow, green, blue, and purple... my toes are painted like a rainbow to remind me of the biggest sister in this special  hour that fast approaches.  Three and a half more days and I will be staring into the tiny, squished up face of a miracle.  My little  miracle.  Me- who thought that miracles were dead.   And this will be my third miracle in 18 months.  Life from death. In my yard another life from death drips early morning dew.  Delicate petals of pink and yellow like miniature bouquets swirl around the butterfly bush.  A gift from the first anniversary of Makiah's heaven day.   This sweet plant withered away to nothing last winter.   Just on a whim I buried the root.  Down deep under heavy, dark earth.  And left it there through the cold of grey winter days.  Forgotten and covered by pine straw. It caug...