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 

89 Days

Summer days are here again.

The juggling has begun. For every one of my waking hours.
From sunrise early bird middle son to late nights owl firstborn.
All 4 cubs are under my wings. For better and for worse. The lovely and the uh-gly.

I have been preparing myself. 

For the next 89 days. (Yes, I looked that up.)

I have been training myself to look for the joy, in the chaos of this season.
in the openness that summer break and long summer days can bring. 
Sweet sunshine hours.
Freedoms.

But "Some of my other multiple personalities feel differently. 
(Whitney Fleming)

Summer with children at home means, my mind is CONSTANTLY whirling around, speed of light. 
Requests, needs, uh-ohs, bickerings...

The absolute BLUR.

In that light, I am basking in the freedom and realness and honesty this writer's words bring:

...I will let you do fun, messy stuff even though it drives me crazy. I will let you play in the mud, bake cookies, try elaborate crafts, run in the sprinklers, and do science experiments. You are growing up so fast and I know there’s not much more time left.
...I may even try to participate, but mama still has to pay the bills. And check Facebook.
...I will let you have a lemonade stand, go on bike rides to get ice cream, climb trees, and go to the pool as often as possible, even when I want to do other important stuff, like vacuum or write about what funny thing you said to me that day. Because these were all important things in my childhood.
...I will try to have patience when you all poke and prod and annoy and tattle and tackle and push and bust into my room saying ridiculous things like “Mom, she won’t stop looking at me” or “She won’t give me my underwear back!” 
But no promises, I’m only human.
...I will remember you worked hard this year, did well, and you deserve a break.
That I will participate in the bike rides, in the games, in the mess. Because sometimes I don’t do things because I forget how much fun they were when I was your age... how much fun they still are now.
...I will not go bat crazy when you didn’t make your bed (again), put your dish in the sink (again), left your games out (again) or spilled your milk for the thousandth time. These are little things that happen and I know some parents would give their left arms to go through these things with their kids again. 
I will have gratitude. After I get my zen back.

...Like you, I’m trying to grow and learn and be better. I’ll give you a break, if you give me one too.  
(Whitney Fleming, https://herviewfromhome.com/my-contract-with-my-kids-this-summer-break/)

I give myself a lot of pressure, I'm beginning to recognize. After TEN years of being a parent. 
That the beginning of summertime feels like New Year's, like I need a resolution and that I've got to be just right, start of just so. 
That I need to be ALL in or I'm really not in at all: 
Attitude, energy, meeting needs. Meeting needs while sometimes ignoring my own until it gets ugly and something's gotta give.

But. I'm going to try to relax that pressure these next 89 days. 
To acknowledge right now, that there will be wonderful, and there will be horrible. 
And neither is defining. 
Life is life, and there will be all the extremes and in-betweens and that is the journey. 
There will be grumpy me and there will be tender me. 
There will be bursts of energy and there will be weary solitude. 
And lots of chocolate and ice cream and shutting doors to each other for breathing space. And lots of smiles and quick touches to let my dear ones know I am here, they are my small cubs. Whether they are a decade old or still in diapers.

"Summer is for noticing. 
Noticing what happens when I move slower.
Summer is here for now. 
It will not last long. 
Like the rest of time, it refuses to halt at my command. 
I ONLY GET 18, SO I WILL TAKE EACH MOMENT THIS SUMMER.
I’ll hold it, taste it, feel it, fully enter. 
We will laugh hard and play loud.
With each passing moment, I will say, 
'Thank you, God, for just one more.'”
(Renee Robinson, http://renee-robinson.com/we-only-have-18-summers/)

As for us,
I am anticipating:

The blur.

Reading hours, long and quiet... (fingers crossed!)
Leaning into each other on the sofa. 
Lantern light on top bunk. 
Sunny van rides. 
Under the comforter on the queen size bed. 
Sorted into different parts of the house when the noise is too much.

Creating random recipes (or non-recipes) at random times of the day.

Making our summer bucket lists. 

Visiting grandparents, mountains. 

Backyard baseball. Indoors basketball. 

UNO. Memory games. Puzzles. 

Legos. 

Harry Potter.

Begging for the pool. Juggling this with a littlest one's napping afternoons.

Boys begging for screen time. Girl's gibberish  requests for who-knows-what.

Bathtimes. (Oh my, the water bill.)

Gatorade. Fruit snacks. Wrappers and empty cups.

Ice cream sundaes.

Road trips.

Alarm clocks turned off.

Conversations at night.

Eye contact.

Sitting close.

The music of Backyardigans and Minnie Mouse and Paw Patrol and NBA theme song and Star Wars and...

The blur.

My spirit needing introvert solitude, battling to fit that in. (For everyone's well-being!)

"I pray the Lord grows me more and more in recognizing what matters most and EMBRACING THE PEOPLE OVER THE PERFECTION. In the midst of the mess, embrace the abundance." 


TIME. To just enjoy the gift of time as it passes. 

EIGHTY-NINE DAYS.
JUST 89 days.
Under our wings. While they are still nearby.

And to take each day and whisper "it is well with my soul."

Blessings, fellow summer soldiers,
Elizabeth