{five things xviii}

- one -

It feels really wonderful to get back to a bit of writing lately. I've missed it a lot.

It has been a challenge to do because my preeclampsia took a turn for the worse a few weeks ago. My blood pressure decided to jump drastically, and if I exert myself too much I start to get extremely light headed and nauseated. The accompanying swelling has given me carpal tunnel syndrome and a lovely pins-and-needles sensation in my hands and feet.

As a result, I'm under doctor's orders to keep off my feet as much as possible. If I don't, it's pretty likely that I'll be put on bed rest. I believe the exact words used were, "Now is the time to let the house go to pot," and "If you don't have to do it, DON'T."

It's incredibly frustrating because I really don't feel terribly sick (other than the normal exhaustion & body aches) until I overdo it. So there's this fine line I have to walk and I'm not exactly certain where it lies. I find if I take it easy, allow people to step in and help while I enjoy good health that I feel terribly lazy-- as though I'm Cleopatra floating down the Nile being hand-fed clusters of grapes. But if I blaze on through and try to tough things out, inevitably I end up in bed with blood pressure 40 points above normal with the room spinning about me.

*sigh*

But truly, I am doing well despite all this, and I am grateful for the tender mercies that have buoyed our family the last several weeks and for all the wonderful friends and neighbors that have bent over backwards to lend a hand. We are also tremendously grateful for this little boy that is soon to join our family (in six weeks, give or take!), and I would still do this all over again even if I knew what I'd have to go through to get him here.

- two -

My heart has been heavy this past week because of a tragedy that took place in our neighborhood last Thursday. Two of my good friend Hope's boys were struck by an SUV as they rode a bike home from a soccer game. The older of the two is doing remarkably well, all things considered-- recuperating at home now after a brief stay in the hospital with a broken leg and many bumps and bruises. The younger, who is friends with Taylor & Reilly, is still being cared for at Primary Children's in Salt Lake with several injuries to his brain, neck, and spleen, as well as a broken leg. He has been gradually improving, but as Hope says, he's not out of the woods yet. There is a long uncertain road ahead for them.

I wish so much that there was something more I could do other than continually remember them in my prayers. Although I truly believe that the power of prayer is no small thing, I do feel a bit useless just laying around here when my friends are going through something like this. So if you are so inclined, would you please say a prayer for them?

- three -

During the difficult times, I find a lot of solace in music. Montserrat over at Chocolate on my Cranium recently posted one of my favorite songs by Nicole Nordeman-- you can check it out here.

For the last few months, another song that has really gotten me through the difficult moments is "Blessings," by Laura Story. She wrote the lyrics to this beautiful melody in response to her husband's struggle with brain cancer. (Which as some of you know is another topic that is very close to my heart.) You can hear Laura's moving story from her own heart here. I hope you enjoy the music.

Another song that is a favorite around here is Steven Curtis Chapman's "Long Way Home," which was partially inspired by dealing with his own grief after the loss of his daughter. It has quickly become Reilly's favorite song of all time. Hearing her sing along with the radio never fails to make me smile. Even on the difficult days, the upbeat melody and lyrics always lift our spirits.

- four -

Speaking of lifting our spirits...

This little girl never fails to do just that on a daily basis.

Over the past couple of months, little Miss Dani has really come into her own. 

She is full-out, no-holds-bar, all girly-girl with the exuberant personality to match. Every day is a new opportunity to express herself, and she has definite ideas about the way her world (and fashion choices) should be. I am so thankful for the laughter that fills our days courtesy of this sweet little prima donna of ours. 

And her "little" brother as well.
Because really, it has been double the fun with these two.

(Someone may want to tell Elton John that Logan has his old sunglasses...)

Despite what people like to say about the "terrible twos," I have decided that this is one of the most fun stages of a young child's life. Their enthusiasm for life, sweet innocence, and wonderment is such a treasure.

- five -

Just in case you missed my post yesterday, I wanted to encourage all mothers to read this wonderful essay by Ann Voskamp of A Holy Experience. Entitled "The Habit of a Mother Who Changes the World," it literally changed my perspective on my own little corner of the world. I cannot recommend it more highly.

I love being a mother. It is the hardest, most challenging work I have ever engaged in, but the rewards and blessings have made every back-breaking day worth it. Life is good.

• • •

And those are my five things for Friday!

Have a wonderful weekend, everyone!

Ducks

Slightly eccentric confession:
I just so happen to love ducks.
Seriously. Love them.

I think my adoration originates with some of my earliest memories-- venturing out with my parents to the local park to feed the ducks swimming in the pond. The delight in having them come and nearly eat out of my own tiny hand. The good natured murmur of their quacks rippling across the water. The image of their little families-- father, mother, and sweet little fluffy babies floating along in a row. It was joy incarnate to my young heart.

Even now, they just make me smile.
Ask Bryson, he knows. 

But earlier this month my cousin Robin shared a post with me that gave me an even deeper perspective on these remarkable little creatures-- and it has affected me profoundly. Originally posted in August of 2008 by Ann Voskamp at A Holy Experience, it was reposted in the week leading up to Mother's Day this year. You can read it in it's entirety here.

In it, she relates an experience she had with her children as they studied an Alexander Koester painting in a book. They gazed at the image of a flock of ducks along the banks of a river, and then Ann read the caption underneath the image aloud:

Mother ducks pick feathers from their chests to line their nests. 

Moulting Ducks by Alexander Koester

That singular sentence caused her to stop and allow that image sink deeply into her soul.

She writes:

"I look around at the house. I pause.
And the children gaze thoughtfully at a clutch of plump white, blizzard of feathers fallen down.

But it’s those words that mesmerize me: 
'Mother ducks pick feathers from their chests, to line their nests.'

I lay my hand on the page, on a duck breast puffed, mother plunging beak in deep, and I say it out loud: 'How else did you think nests were lined?'

With leftovers.

That’s what I thought.
With feathers discarded, the molted, the not-so-necessary feathers.
I thought mother ducks picked feathers up from what was laying about, scraps, lining nests with what simply could be mustered after the fact.

But no. 
No, a mother duck plucks each feather out from the heart of her bosom.
She lines the nest with bits of herself — the best of herself.  

A mother cups her brood not with leftovers — but with her own sacrifice."

Like Ann, that image has left me forever changed.

The comfort, safety, and security of our own little nests depends so much on the selflessness of mothers who know who they are and the value and nobility of their calling.

Mothers who give their children the best they have to give, despite all the many distractions and worldly directions in which we are constantly pulled.

Mothers who understand that the care and nurturing of these precious little spirits is of paramount importance; a divine work.

In this world of entitlement, celebrity, and instant gratification, the work of the everyday stay-at-home mom is often marginalized and even looked down upon. There is no fame in this work. No sick days. No worldly wealth. And instant gratification? Ha.

But He who made the Ultimate Sacrifice looks down upon all these feathers we pluck daily with a smile. And although my meager efforts in creating a comfortable nest may not seem like much most days, I know that I am engaged in a holy work.

Just the other day I hung a framed print of that beautiful Koester painting on the wall next to my bedside. I wanted to have a daily visual reminder of the importance of my work as a mother and to urge me to set my priorities where they ought to be. It stands as a tangible emblem of my desire to be the best mother I possibly can.

As I looked on my handiwork with satisfaction, Bryson walked into the room and noticed the new artwork.

Examining the subject of the piece he smiled and remarked, "Ah... ducks. That seems appropriate."

Yes.
Very appropriate indeed.

In My Shoes

What is it about women and their shoes?
For so many of us, it is a love affair that stretches back through the years.

The 50's-style saddle shoes I begged my mom for as a young girl.
The Speedo water sandals I literally lived in as a competitive swimmer and lifeguard.
The penny loafers I wore out the summer I spent on a high school trip to Spain.
The Birkenstocks that were so absolutely necessary for a teenager in the 90's. 
The trusty ASICS that have propelled me through triathlons and the like.
The sassy red pumps with the low heels that make me feel beautiful and girly.

But my most favorite pair of shoes are far less flashy and far more practical than all of the above. I suppose they share more of my own personality characteristics than the others as well-- sturdy, supportive, and meant to traverse paths of all grades and roughness. They are my Merrell trail shoes.

Sure, they might not be Louboutins or Jimmy Choos, but to me they are the most valuable pair of shoes in my closet.

They have taken me to places of breathless beauty: The Grand Canyon, Arches National Park, Bryce Canyon, and all over the beautiful Wasatch Mountains I call home.

They have stood with me on a cold wet pool deck as I coached my high school and club swimmers through the years. Encouraging, disciplined, resilient. 

They have been with me as I have cultivated the little patch of ground surrounding our home, helping as I gradually coaxed it into a garden bursting with the fruits of the earth.

They have supported my feet on the hard kitchen floor as I work each year, preserving the harvest of each season.

They have strengthened me as I have cradled sick or sleepless little ones, logging countless miles in my own home-- walking, rocking, and bouncing.

They have been with me for over eight years and still have a lot of life yet to live.

When I think about the person I want to become, the woman I aspire to being, I think about my trusty old shoes. I don't want to be a pair of red pumps, good for nothing other than being cute. I want to be my Merrells-- my life given in service, in cultivating beauty, in reaching higher ground.

When the day comes when I meet my Creator, I want to smile and say, "I wore myself out in support and service. I have trod through garden paths and rocky canyon trails, and came out the other side with wisdom and experience. I have done the best I that I could with what I have been given."

Sorry, Jimmy Choo.
I'll take my well-loved utilitarian kicks any day of the week.

• • •

This post is part of a Wordfull Wednesday blog hop hosted by Chocolate on my Cranium!

Tell us about your favorite pair of shoes and link up with us. 

What adventures in life have you had in them?

Momma's Boy

Seven years ago today, you came into our lives, changing our world forever.

After three years of marriage and rounds of fertility medication, we still found ourselves waiting for your arrival. I can clearly remember the tears I shed, and the prayers I said-- pleading with God to bless us with your little spirit.

Little spirit, ha.
Clearly, I mean Big Spirit.

Just like Hannah of old, I promised that if God would see fit to bless our home with one of His children that I would do all in my power to raise you in the arms of His love.

Shortly after I made that solemn covenant with the Lord, you were on your way.

After a difficult pregnancy, and an even more difficult (torturous, really) labor, you made your grand entrance into this world. I snuggled you on my chest, and you looked back at me with eyes wide open. Only minutes old, and you were taking it all in. Inquisitive and intelligent.

Soon after, however, there were complications. You weren't able to keep the necessary oxygen level in your blood stream for your tiny body to thrive. Tucked away in your little incubator, I made the regular journey to visit you and hold you close. The nurses all seemed to think that I was very strong emotionally. But that wasn't it, really. I just had the calm and peaceful assurance from the Spirit that everything would be alright.

And soon enough, you were.

We took you home, and to this day I cannot remember a time when I felt more overwhelmed and completely incompetent. I couldn't believe they actually let me leave the hospital with you! Didn't they know I had absolutely no clue what I was doing?

Thank goodness your daddy was there that first week to show me the ropes. And thank goodness I'm a fairly swift learner. We got the hang of it pretty quickly, you and me.

You were patient with me as I learned how to be a mommy. And I tried my best to be patient with you as you grew much faster than I was prepared for.

Each and every day I look at you and am amazed with who you are and all that you are becoming. Your strong, intense determination and enthusiasm for life drives everything you do. Your thirst for knowledge and desire to understand things of both heaven and earth inspire me to no end. You challenge me constantly, and I am all the better for it.

I am continually surprised by the things you teach me in the moments I need it most.

I am grateful that even after seven years, you still love to snuggle up next to me and simply be.

These days I look at you, and I am still overwhelmed.
Overwhelmed with gratitude.

Thank you for the privilege it is to be your mother.
I loved you even before you were born, and I will love you still through all the eternities to come.

Happy Birthday, Taylor.

A Perfect Ten

Love is blind.
Except when it isn't.

You see me:

A perfect conglomeration of
Imperfection.

I see you:

Strength and weakness
Anchored
by
Faith and trust.

Hand in hand we walk
Down garden paths and rocky trails
Sunlit meadows and bleakest caverns

Never letting go.
Never giving up.
Never fading away.

For our trust is not one to be placed
Blindly. 

Our eyes are lit by the clear reflection of each other.

And forever we continue onward:

Seeing with hearts wide open.

 • • •

Happy 10th Anniversary, Bryson.

I absolutely adore you.

(You can read "our story" here.)