Growing Pains

I’d pretty much gotten my groove. As a mother of young ones. Years of babes and toddlers and preschoolers and elementary ages. Never had it all figured out (ha!) but the groove, the rhythms, the methods: they become known. 

Rest times and nourishment needs, teaching habits, training manners, hours of coloring, learning letters and how to read, building block towers, planting flowers, riding a bike, mastering every playground, staring up at the clouds.

And then suddenly, even in front of my very eyes, living in the absolute day to day of life:

High schooler. Driving lessons. Job seeking. Social stuff. Bigger responsibilities. Peer relationships. Decision-making. Time running out of the hourglass. 

Letting go a bit.

There still is time. But my word. When and where and how have these circumstances arrived? 

When I still feel like all our cubs are under our cautious gaze, within our protective arms. Those constant needs of childhood. 

This is an age-old, timeless experience, right? The speediness of life's stages and the blur of the journey. 

The commenting to others, "I just can't believe it... how big he is, how much he's grown, that he's old enough for..." Well, that comment seems to have become a daily, repetitive recitation in my life. And the more I say it, the more I somehow find a clenched jaw. Grateful, but trying to learn how in the world do I adjust?!

When every week, every month seems to pick us up and place us in a new spot on the game board of life's-changing-seasons. I look back, I look forward, I look down at my shoes at the step I'm on. Wondering how many steps ahead my piece be and where my position and vantage point will be. 

Life is rich and full. Life is headed down the pretty-much expected path of milestones and rites of passage. 

And I am thankful. Life is bitter and sweet. Gains and losses. Amazing and heart-wrenching. Hilarious and so tragic. 

But I am in the midst of some major growing pains. Me. My heart and mind. Stretching and growing and stepping out onto the next spot on the game board. Trying to be brave and swallow deep and steadily keep moving toward the finish line. 

And it is tough. Juggling the roles in life, juggling the loved ones in my life, juggling the hours of when to fit in what. Keeping track of scheduling and editing to-do lists seem to reign. And the figuring-out of needs of a high schooler down to a first grader is so stretching. There's where the growing pains linger. 

The incredible experience of getting to walk alongside (and behind, from a distance) our oldest as he becomes more and more a man. The conversations we can share, the heavier life issues he can now understand, the personality and the individuality he is developing. Oh, how I value these fresh sides of our son.

And then there's the experience yet of the youngness of our youngest. More than a decade remains in raising her in this household. There is so much wonder and wide-eyed curiosity I still want to savor and nurture. And she continues to need a nearby eye and available hand as she navigates and learns and grows. 

So I hold my hand toward our littlest as she skips and dances ahead on her journey. And I hold my hands clasped (but at the ready) for our oldest as he strides ahead in those man-sized steps he now takes.

And my heart squeezes and my jaw clenches. Holding close and letting go.

Clinging to promises like this:

"The LORD directs the steps of the godly.

He delights in every detail of their lives.

Though they stumble, they will never fall

for the LORD holds them by the hand."

Psalm 37:23 

He directs our steps. 

 

He delights in the details. 

 

He holds us by the hand. 

(And this helps.) 

"Sometimes life is so hard you can only do the next thing.

Whatever that is, just do the next thing.

God will meet you there."

Elisabeth Elliot 

 

(And that helps, too.)

So, any of you who are feeling these growing pains with me? 

Those of you who have gone before me down this path and can look back on your growing pains? 

Let's throw each other encouraging smiles and bits of wisdom and reassurances that each "next thing" we are walking into... 

that we are not alone + that we are doing our imperfect best + that there is Someone who is overseeing it all, with the absolute perfect plan and timing for it all.

 

BLESSINGS,

Elizabeth 

A season of 4,652 days

So I asked our Alexa a question. 

How many days have passed since March 7, 2008? 

The answer: 4,652 days.

This is how many days I have had as a stay-at-home momma.

Tomorrow, I leave the house and go back into the workforce full-time for the first time since that day in 2008. 

Yikes. That is a long time. And it also has felt like a blink, a blurry dream.

I have gradually become more and more ready for this change of seasons. 

And what a season of life this has been.

I've laughed louder and smiled wider than I could have ever imagined.

And I've also been angrier and more frustrated and more heartbroken.

My heart has been stretched and worn and given and fulfilled.

As a full-time stay-home momma, as a basically one-income family, we have sacrificed and struggled and benefitted and nurtured and experienced and adjusted and grown. We have been in plenty and in want, sickness and health. 

And now, the opportunity for me to have a place outside the home has risen and come together and is happening. A little earlier than our original plans, but when the pieces fit and God opens the path and answers the prayers...  

And oh my, if this transition doesn't give me ALL the emotions. 

I mean, having a resume of "home" for the past 12+ years. Um. How was that going to work for future employment? And then. This position and its details. Being able to have this opportunity to have a job that will provide so much for our family, for me, for our future? Being able to gather up into my hands a new purpose outside these walls and outside of this handful of young children I've had the honor to care for these years? Wow. This bittersweet cup overflows. 

Gosh, we are blessed. And gosh, this is hard.

I am thankful.

I am sad.

I am excited. 

I am sad.

I am nervous. 

I am hopeful. 

I am thankful.

I am sad.

These past few days, I've felt like I'm leaving for some other country, indefinitely, with no return date yet. Like I'm packing up and getting things prepared at home here for those I'm leaving behind. And partly, this processing has been a very necessary part of this adjustment. 

And then, in other ways, I have to smile at myself and shake it off a bit! It's not like I'm truly leaving these people or having to say final goodbyes to these dear loved ones of mine. Or this house of ours. And then I can breathe again. I'm still their momma and this is still my home. And I am still me. And it will all be okay. And there are regrets of time squandered and failings and mistakes I've made. But the reality of hope and grace and future eases the hard and washes it fresh.

"Seek Me. Just where you are, seek Me." (Ann Voskamp, "The Greatest Gift")

"And so we offer to you, O God, these things: Our dreams, our plans, our vision. Shape them as You will. Our moments and our gifts. May they be invested toward bright, eternal ends." (Douglas McKelvey, "Every Moment Holy", p. 61)

"Grant, O Lord, that we might take our leave now, feeling a right joy for the blessings of the hours we shared, even as we feel a bright and hopeful sorrow at their close." (p. 220)

"Not my dreams, O Lord, not my dreams, but Yours, be done." (p. 235)

"The shape of that ache for another time and place is the imprint of eternity within our souls." (p. 222) 

"Make us faithful in the meanwhile..." (p. 220)

Every one of us has such a unique journey. With parts we've cherished and parts we've despised. Taking the time to step back and process the sharp turns and windy curves and sudden forks in the path and maddening "road closed" signs and precious dreams dashed: well, these past few days/weeks/months/years of reflecting and remembering and reliving have shown me such a different perspective. 

I am appreciating the looking-back-on... How pieces of the puzzle that never seemed to fit right can somehow still be making a complete picture. Our puzzles aren't done. But looking back at how far they've come together so far? This gives me great hope and anticipation that the pieces will continue to be pieced together. Season by season. Both the bitter and the sweet, the heartbreaks and the victories, the losses and the gains.

"To everything there is a season... He has made everything beautiful in its time." (Ecclesiastes 3:1,11)

In my own time of ChAnGeS cHaNgEs galore... say some prayers and send some encouragements my way? (And, of course: RIGHT BACK 'ATCHA!)

Blessings,

Elizabeth

In season

Digging through plastic storage boxes of memory lane late last night opened up floodgates to pieces of me I haven’t looked on in years. 

Especially the sketches, the writing, the paintings. The art that I had forgotten brought me energy and satisfaction and focus. Since these feeling-long-ago times, my hours and years have been spent in very different ways. 

(I miss this neglected piece of me.)

But I also see life has having very defined seasons. That all, each and every season, have their place and their part and their chapter in this ongoing story.

Parts of my younger self: I shake my head at and want to squeeze her tight and tell her to chill the heck out and just breathe. Other parts of my younger self: I am indescribably proud that girl and want to again squeeze her tight and affirm that gritty, bruised perseverance she’s collected. 

Flashing back through piles of photographs and writings and albums and tangible treasures of scattered memories of the past 3 decades of life... well, it’s giving me fresh perspective on this rainy day. 

Like looking down from above at the collage-scrapbook-calendar of my years so far: at all the momentary and seasonal life struggles and occasions and milestones... (some I warmly miss and some I mourn for and some I am so glad to be done of)... and it helps me today, in this present season, to see it for as fast passing and always changing as it is and will be. Embracing the hard with fierceness and chin-up and clenched jaw, but also savoring and swaying and absorbing the absolutely wonderful. 

I miss the artist in me, but maybe she’ll come out again somehow. Or maybe the years of maturing will keep steering me in those unknown paths where new gifts will reveal themselves. 

For now: we are in right place for this season, for this chapter we’re smack in the middle of today. 

As for me, I am alone for 2 1/2 hours in the mornings for this school year. After 12 1/2 years is always having children to spin around in caregiving... I am so grateful God already has a plan for where my next steps will take me.

(Soundtrack of the moment: Tracy Chapman’s “I Promise.” LISTEN. It just fits.) https://music.amazon.com/albums/B001IAUGMS?do=play&trackAsin=B001IANDNC&ref=dm_sh_yA9eg9JuzAGS5P19ttExSd76Z

Blessings,

Elizabeth 

That Innocence

There is just something about milestones. 

And I can be the queen of the reminiscing on milestones: 

Anniversaries of times so special, so impactful. The joyful + the painful. 

And milestones that have pictures around to help tell the story? Having the gift of a bit of tangible to focus attention can sometimes be cherished, beyond the invisible thoughts alone.

I read an article a handful of years back that I really wish I could recall, to give credit to the author. 

But the thought has stuck with me: 

That a photograph captures just a second-moment in time. 

Where the past is part of the context of the image, 

but the image shows strictly the present. 

And, the future of what is to come next is completely unknown during that tiny moment of time.

There is an innocence of the future... A blissful unawareness of what is around the corner, even seconds away. 

But, looking back on a past image, a larger story can be told and understood.

We can look back on photos and sense the naivety and maybe childlikeness of the scene. The unknown of the future.

And that is how I am feeling as I'm reflecting on today.

Today is a milestone, in my own heart at least. 

One year ago was when I received the surprise of surprises news that I was pregnant. With #5. 

And the news initially did not settle in sweetly. 

And, those who know our story knows that my pregnancy did not end as anyone would have hoped or imagined.

So when I have been reflecting on how last 365 days have felt to me: the panic, the disbelief, the dizzying roller coaster of processing the news... 

I try to remember what it was like BEFORE.

Before the news, before this entire knot of a year to follow.

And below is the most recent picture taken before that August 30th date.

The lack of any awareness of what this girl was about to face in coming days/months/forever.

I like this girl. Imperfectly unaware. And I like that she's smiling so big. Who knew? Gather up strength, dear one.

And then the following picture. 

Of my view AFTER. After the pregnancy test showed those lines. 

This image will always be imprinted in my mind when I recall "that day."

And I had sat in this soft tan chair for, honestly, a few hours. Without getting out. I just sat.

And my precious friend came up and knocked on the bedroom door and joined me. In the chair. Squashed in. And she gave me the absolutely needed gift of reassurance and calm, even through my bouts of tears and commentary on how this shook my world. 

"One thing at a time..." 

"You just grow that life..." 

"You have a village..." 

"Blessing in this..." 

"God will provide..." 

"It will work out..."

And I stayed in that chair, long after she left and in the sharing with my husband. 

When circumstances sometimes just freeze you.

And then, when I finally stood up from the comfort of hiding away in the chair, 

it was Bob Ross "No Mistakes" shirt time. 100% on purpose.

And when I looked at what was next at my camera roll, I quietly smile inside, that God could focus my view this way.

And the morning of the big, halfway-there ultrasound day, this was the picture.

God was continually holding my hand.

And then this image:
The hour before the ultrasound that would show us whether #5 baby was a girl or boy. Gathering my thoughts in the comfort of a coffee shop + journal.
Who knew then that such a shock of loss was about to be revealed, right? Innocence. 

"Photographs: see people before their future weighed them down, 
before they knew their endings." 

(Kate Morton, The House at Riverton)

And then the next image to follow on my camera?

I am thankful, again. That what came were words that comforted.

 

This picture above is another one of those photos: 

One that reminds me of a time of innocence, years back. 

Before a BOOM fell on our lives. 

These smiles were seasoned with some of life's hardships, but didn't know what was going to come next. 

And sometimes I look back on this image, and wish I could jump back through the years and not have experienced the heartaches to come, back from this era over a decade ago.

Or even more current, back to the time pre-last year's surprise and loss.

Yet. (One of my favorite words)

Yet, as much as loss hurts and aches and ages and burns...

=Richness and depth and beauty and compassion.

=Unbelievable hope can arise. 

For the future that none of us see yet.

As hard as this last year has been, a loss of a baby and the difficult time I've had recollecting the pieces of ME that have struggled to be gathered back securely...

I have changed. 

Yet.

God has not.

His future for me has not.

And the same for you, with your milestones and your heartwrenching memories and circumstances...

A friend shared this song that immediately helped my perspective, once again.

"I know if You wanted to You could wave Your hand

Spare me this heartache and change Your plan

And I know when he said that You could take my pain away

But even if you don't I pray

Help me want the Healer more than the healing

Help me want the Savior more than the saving

Help me want the giver more than the giving

Oh help me want You Jesus more than anything" 

Natalie Grant "More Than Anything"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CKECQ86XexM&list=RDCKECQ86XexM&t=80

Blessings on this milestone day,
Elizabeth 


(And some simple-needed advice to pass on that my Grandma Virginia Hurd shared with me, 9 years ago, for going through difficult times: 
"Just try your best to be happy TODAY. Then do the same thing tomorrow. And the next day.")

My Village

We have lived in this "village" of 2,000+ for eleven years now. 
(I love how quaint that sounds.)

And it has become a home like I've never imagined.
My hometown of growing up years will always feel like a home. 
And this current town we're in, is the place I've called home through this past decade: a decade of building and growing so much new.

My mantra when we moved here, to this new community, those years ago: 
Say "yes" to anyone and anything that you are invited to join in, no matter how new or unknown.

Even when I may have been feeling bluesy about such a new, unfamiliar setting. 
Even when my whole life shifted dramatically from super busy grad school student to, well...nothing on the calendar.
No job was lined up for me, no children on the horizon yet. 
Just, well a new life. 
And I heard it could be difficult to be included in a smaller community sometimes: if you're not from there, if you're a transplant. So my expectations were not the highest at finding any friendships very quickly.

But oh. my. stars. 

God had such surprises up His sleeve.

And He didn't wait too long to reveal His gifts.

A grad school friend's cousin's wife's mother.
I am not kidding.

It all started with that "connection." 
My VILLAGE was created.

And walking through these 11 years, there have been very clear and defined SEASONS.
My village has been built on a foundation of dearest friendships, 
and it has shifted
and shifted
and shifted.

Seasons.
Friends have moved.
And moved.
In and out.
Back and forth.
New ones arriving.
Precious ones leaving.

And these changes have brought so much joy AND grief to my heart.

The friendships of these adult years, of so many life changes... 
they have been lifelines to get through the days.

Through becoming a mother for the first time. To adding on and juggling. Working through health challenges. Job changes. Possible moves ourselves.

The STABILITY through it all?
My God.
My husband.
Our families.
This cozy ol' house.

Everything else? 
CHANGES. 
SEASONS.

What brings all this to mind so clearly right now? 
Another set of precious, precious friends have just moved away. 

My heart sinks, I feel that emptiness and sadness bubbling to the surface. A void. Sniffles when I think about it too long.

These friends... have walked through their own intense, enormous losses while they lived here their own past decade here. 
And they walked through OUR losses and joys, right alongside us. With such genuine care and straight-up understanding. Life-changing friends.

And my hand is forced to be open, to let go. 

Not permanently: friendship is lifelong established. But letting go of the daily life stuff. 
And that is what breaks this girl's heart. 

"People we’ve invested in, done life with... People we’ve wept, laughed, and longed with. People who’ve been there for us in the darkest moments, reminding us of the truths of the gospel and the faithfulness of God. These are people we thank God for, doing so with a deep sense of joy (Phil. 1:3–4)."
(Steve Timmis, https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/painful-good-gospel-goodbye/)

There have been such seasons of friendships since living here in this place, that my mind can envision so clearly: 

-single gals who now are married and walking through the stage I was in when we met, of new locations and even parenthood.
-precious friends moving across the country: 
New York. Maryland. Louisiana. Michigan. South Dakota. 
South, even in this same state.

Away. To beautiful journeys.
But, away from me, my daily life.

For me, who cherishes relationship... Who does not take one friendship for granted... Goodbyes are a terribly bittersweet burden. A normal thing. But a loss felt in the everyday of life. That void that can't be replaced.

"The sense of loss over a good thing is truly a good thing. 
We should never be able to shrug our shoulders and easily walk away from friendships into the next phase of life."
(Steve Timmis, https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/painful-good-gospel-goodbye/)

And then, this weekend we had vehicle troubles. More than once.

And we received such support and care and help from friendships; rallying around us.

And I have been reminded, again:

That God is still providing in this way for us.

We will still have a village around us. It has shifted through these years. And it will shift again. And I will grieve changes, again. 
There will be stability in the path, t
here will be changes coming to the path.
And God will provide. 
In ways that will make sense usually later on down the road.

Even looking back to my elementary school years, 
just about every end of the school year, a close friend moved away.
And looking back on junior high, high school, college, graduate school, and through this day...
God has been a GIVER to me.
With just the right girlfriends. For the season. And a few throughout ALL those seasons.
And I am ever, ever grateful.

And to each of you most treasured people in my life, 
from braces years to 
meeting future spouses to 
news of jobs and pregnancies
from losses to joys,
whether I see you weekly or yearly or hopefully-someday-soon.
I have been blessed by you and how you have impacted who I am.

And you who have left my daily life: 
YOU ARE UNFORGETTABLE. 
YOU ARE MISSED.

“Our bad things turn out for good. Our good things can never be lost. And the best things are yet to come.” 
(Jonathan Edwards)

Blessings on "The Dance" of our journeys.
Elizabeth