Where I Last Left You - Asheville - a Dream Fulfilled

- Wednesday, April, 4 -

As I write these words, I'm living a 20 year dream. It started as a teenager, reading Christie, by Catherine Marshall. Mystery and magic of the misty mountains danced in my imagination and never left me. Somehow, I never made it to Asheville til now, in spite of encouragement from many, many people, reinforcing Asheville as a place that was not only delightful in the 1800's, but is still alive with healthy, vibrant culture and growth today.

- Thursday, April 12 -

A week ago, I was sitting in my co-pilot perch, just as I am now, and you and I were having a delightful chat. I forced myself to close this computer and soak up the moment. I nearly missed the glory of a dream fulfilled in my eagerness to record it and share it with you! Isn't this the tug of war we all experience in this super techie connected world? We are so eager to be seen and heard and validated, we often miss an opportunity to fully soak in an experience in our eagerness to share it.

We are on the road again, beginning our next adventure, but for now, let's soak up the last 9 days together.

This photo says it all. We woke to breathtaking views every morning, played beside and bid these views goodnight, every day and night, in Asheville. 

Literally, all of these scenic photos are taken from our RV windows. To prove it, a glass of wildflowers from my morning hike, placed on my dinette and the mountains behind...

How often does anyone do a puzzle on a picnic table in front of a view like this?

The following demonstrates why these are called the Smokey Mountains or the Misty Mountains.

Everywhere we drove in Asheville, beauty took my breath away as we drove up and down common roads, rounding corner after corner to see another awesome view. I fuss instead of giving praise far more than I care to admit, but there has always been something about mountains which draw spontaneous hallelujahs from my soul. 

Souvenirs from this week include a handmade, colorful purse from Asheville's covered, open air flea market, open 7 days a week. Proceeds of this purchase went to support Nepalese women. 

Mother's Day we enjoyed brunch at Tupelo Honey Cafe with Mom and Dad Sherman. Winning national awards, this is a "must visit" anytime you're in Asheville. Light, flaky, plump biscuits and an intro to the concept of a fried avocado left me a happy mommy.

If you like honey, The Bee Charmer is another "must visit." After tasting only 7 of the 18ish available testers, we walked away with Cranberry Honey for the road.

Our last night in Asheville, we drove a mile, to the bottom of our hill, to drink and have a snack at The Thirsty Monk. We like visiting unique pubs during our travels and The Thirsty Monk was family friendly. Samantha enjoyed a Root Beer and, we have NO idea where she picked it up, but she loves to do "cheers" with Mommy and Daddy and clink glasses. 

On that note, "cheers" to you and your weekend, wherever you are... Russia, Poland, Nepal, China, Indonesia or United States... just a few of the places you live! May my travels, discoveries and conversation inspire you to live life to the fullest in every culture and circumstance. Praise to the One who created all of us!

for Cute Photos of RV sink baths, click here

for New Artwork of Northern Georgia, click here

When the Wind is Stronger than Your Roots

It was Day 4 or 5, mid afternoon, Samantha was just finishing a nap and I was preparing to put Annabelle down to start a nap when I got a call from Chris. He told me to get the girls ready. As soon as he arrived home, we were going to jump in the Jeep with him and check out a beach he stumbled across while away running errands. I LOVE IT when he does this. Usually he is counting on me to make fun plans for the family. I love it when he surprises me with a cool plan. Annabelle would survive a missed nap. Early bedtime or something.

THIS is the beach. Driftwood Beach. Have you heard of it? I never had. I forgot my camera in the excitement of jumping in the Jeep. We parked, walked down an enchanted, narrow path through the woods and stepping out into this scene, my jaw dropped. I was in awe. I'd never seen anything like this before. I asked Chris for the keys and I raced back to the campground to get my camera. My mind was already forming this blog post for you.

THIS is what happens when the wind and water are stronger than our roots.

It's beautiful in a way.

And this? Seriously? It looks like a giant sci-fi spider.

This next one... See it? A torn heart?

Here... I'll draw the top back in for you...

These giant, majestic trees...

There will ALWAYS be something more giant, more majestic.

Extra strong, this one. But his time will come.

I've been discussing the subject of roots and change on this blog for years. What an amazing visual to illustrate this topic. 

At 4 years old, my roots were deeply dependent on that green house on Cherokee Lane. (read: April 3rd Post for that story.) Yet 36 years of moving led me to write a post in 2014 about planting my roots in a different Source. (see post: October 2, 2014) Little did I know that 12 days later my husband would arrive home early from work to carefully deliver the news that my Dad had shot himself. Suicide is an event of high winds far stronger than any relocation from one house to another.

I am still on a journey of transplanting roots of my heart from the shakable to the unshakable. Just because I'm RVing, doesn't mean I have this root thing all figured out.

Lately I've been asking myself the following question: What does that ancient text mean when it says,

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

How, exactly, do I store my treasure in heaven? When I kiss my daughter goodnight, is that action kept, for safekeeping, in heaven? I can't capture every precious, glittering moment on camera, and even if I could, moth and rust will eventually destroy it, even if I store photo albums carefully for 150 years of grandchildren. Are all these beautiful moments being saved in heaven somewhere for my later enjoyment? Am I storing up treasure in heaven when I wash dishes? Or give a homeless man a bag of groceries? Is it only certain actions that get put into heavenly storage or is it the Spirit in which we do it? Another text says,

"if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing."

Those are the questions I'm asking myself as I soak up each sparkling, temporary moment with my family this Spring and Summer. I take incredible, unspeakable joy from my small family and yet, God and I have had our moments alone. He and I know that He is enough for me. He knows He is the only One who fills my heart with the best and most Ultimate Joy which never disappoints. Yes. I have felt that sentiment. It is real. In my darkest moments and in my highest moments. Sometimes I loose touch with this Truth, but it's always there when I remember and reach for it again.

(Oh Jesus, please don't test me again on this commitment now that I've said this in front of all these people.) 

Fear or no fear, it needs to be said. He is my first Love. My heart longs to be with Him. It always has. From the very first moment I learned of Him. My passion only increases the older I get. Ever heard the words to that song on the radio?.... "everybody want to go to heaven, nobody wanna go now."

That's me. I'm longing to go... just not quite ready yet.

Letter to the Woman Who Wants My Life

I wrote the following letter to an actual woman in my life.  She and I have had many conversations over the last few weeks about her longing for a baby.  I've shared many thoughts that she finds helpful in her attempt to wait patiently without succumbing to depression, but ultimately, I can't fix this struggle for her.  It's a battle she will face repeatedly, as we all do, and wrestle with on her own and find her own way through it.  But my heart goes out to her.  I was in her shoes for 10 years of waiting and wanting a baby.  I want to try to ease her burden as much as I can. I communicate my heart best through writing, so I put these words to paper for her and for all the women in her shoes I've talked to over the last 10 years.

I also wrote it for myself.  I wrote it to help me remember not to look back with longing to my former life without children, or look forward to my future life when they are grown, but to live in the present moment, fully thankful, fully joyful, fully fulfilled. This truth applies to every person, in every situation, in all walks of life.

Dear Friend, Sister, Colleague, and Woman passing me in Walmart,

You see me and you desire what I have.  I'm not going to lie.  My life is blessed.  It's not wrong to desire what I have.  I have two adorable little girls who offer joy every day, whether I see it and enjoy it or not.  I want you to have what I have.  Children are a delight.  My life is charming in so many ways.  I have a roof over my head, food on my table and three people in my household who love me, not to mention your love for me and the love I feel from at least a hundred friends around the world.

You see me and desire what I have, and it's hard for you to grasp why my life is so challenging for me at times. You can't fathom why I would have any reason to curl up in a ball on the closet floor occasionally and cry my heart out just exactly like you do occasionally.

You see me and desire what I have, so I'm going to try to paint a better picture of exactly what it is I have.....

I am 150% thankful for this life and the babies in it.  I wouldn't change a thing. The reason I am agonized, at times, is because I have a high standard for wanting to live my life to the best of my ability and do a good job with what I have been given. I want to fully enjoy my babies while they are little before it's too late and I don't want to waste a minute.  It stresses me out every time a well meaning stranger says in passing, "Enjoy every minute... they grow up too fast."  I do have many glorious moments of enjoying them. But it's just not humanly possible for every moment to feel glorious. Many times the exhaustion is overwhelming and it's not possible to fully appreciate the babies in those moments. This reality is a grief to me, but nothing can be done about it. This is the plight of motherhood. The act of being a mother is primarily a sacrificial gift of love. Love for the children you are raising and love for all the people who will be blessed by them. God's primary purpose in giving us children is not for personal gratification. However, for mothers who are blessed with wisdom and vision, those mothers can see that it is more blessed to give than to receive. This is the truth that can sustain us in the many, many hard moments. Yes, there are many.

Yet, fortunately, there are also many moments of sheer delight and joy and personal fulfillment in the act of being a mother. It's an added bonus.

I'm an idealist, so I have unrealistic expectations that tell me that if I am doing everything correct, and am the best mother I can be, all moments will feel glorious and wonderful at all times. This is just not true. I know you are an idealist too, so I know you are likely to face this same challenge when you become a mother.

In those moments when things are HARD, I feel guilty because they are hard. I make it EVEN MORE HARD on myself by thinking it's my fault and if I was just a better mother, this would be easier.  Certainly there are times when I make things harder than they need to be with my shortcomings. But there are plenty of times when I have the right attitude and I'm doing everything right and it is still just plain HARD.

When we are in a season of infertility or when we are intentionally waiting to have children, many of us women look at mothers with babies and we want their life, not because we are eager to sacrifice our lives for others, but because we think their life would be more fun than the life we are currently living. And when we hear that those mothers are struggling, we think that they must not be grateful enough for what they have. I admit, certainly there's the occasional ungrateful mother out there, but I highly suspect that most mothers are like me..... SO grateful that they want to do the best job possible and they are beating themselves up trying to do just that. And if you're a good mom, you are going to do the same thing when it's your turn.

So try to stop beating yourself up now, thinking your life isn't full enough now. Try to see your life now and your future life raising babies, not as two separate lives, but as one life.  If babies are in your future, you are already making sacrifices for those babies right now and preparing yourself to be a better mother when they come.  The life experiences you are living now are preparing you for whatever unique challenges you will face in your own private walk as a mother. If you get used to and embrace sacrifice now, it won't be as rude an awakening when sacrifice is an unavoidable reality during motherhood.

So please continue to dream, continue to look forward to the arrival of a baby.  Don't shut your emotions off to protect yourself from the pain of waiting, as I did.  Keep longing, keep desiring, keep waiting so that when your dreams finally do come true, you will be open, ready and excited to receive.  But wait with more awareness of what lies ahead, both the joy and the heartache.  Enjoy your current season of life so that you don't look back and feel you wasted it by pining away for the future.  I have to do the same thing right now.  I have to discipline my mind regularly, telling it to stay in the present moment and not pine away for a future of grown children that will come all too quickly.  If you learn to stay in the present moment now, you'll be better prepared to stay in the present moment and enjoy as much as possible when your glorious babies do come.

This truth applies to every person, in all situations, in all walks of life.

If you experience pain, are you in sin?

I've been waiting, these last few months, for a serious topic to grab my attention... something bigger for us to discuss than bubble blankets.

Yesterday a topic sparked my passion.  I was reading through a string of comments on Facebook, many lovely women weighing in on the heated and heartfelt topic of childbirth.  It was the comment of one woman in particular that caught my attention.  She told us that her births were pain free and it was because Christ has reversed the curse placed on mankind.  She told us that because she believes this idea and has faith in it, she is able to exercise authority over her body and tell it what to do and therefore experience no pain.

This prompted a new string of comments, some throwing unnecessary, strong accusations at the well-intentioned woman and others revealed that her comments hurt them as it suggested their own painful labors were due to lack of faith.

This woman has touched on a very large theological debate that exists within Christianity.  People falling on either side of this debate are all lovely people I would be privileged to call my friends.  I don't usually enter big theological arguments.  It doesn't usually interest me.  But this time the greater debate (see: "health, wealth and prosperity gospel") (see also: "word of faith movement") touched a topic that is near and dear to the heart of all women everywhere... childbirth. Feelings are getting hurt and I want to weigh in.  I want to offer peace to a few hearts.

I do believe this woman's story.  I believe she experienced a pain free birth and it may very well have been because she was gifted by God with the ability to relax and trust Him through the birth process. She may have been able to speak with authority to her body and expel fear and other things that sometimes get in the way of a beautiful birth experience.  A few women do get the chance to experience birth as God originally intended in His original design.  We should rejoice with these women and not begrudge them their beautiful experience.  We need to give them freedom to be different from us.

However, my hope is that women who have this experience, will also give the rest of us freedom to be different in return.  Allow us to experience pain without judgement.  God doesn't promise anyone a pain free birth or a pain free life.  In fact, He says that we WILL share in His sufferings, at times, and He will comfort our hearts through the pain. (2 Corinthians 1:5-7)

I am reminded of the story of a friend.  She told me her first birth was relatively easy and she thought she was super good at this birth thing.  Her second baby brought another story.  The mind blowing pain forced her to new levels of surrender in her walk with God.  The pain was completely out of her control and God used this experience to bring her to a new level of dependence on Him. She has been gifted with the understanding that a great many things are completely out of our control. An inspiring story.  This is where I desire to be at all times: experiencing new levels of surrender to my Creator.

Then there is my own birth story...  I have a high pain tolerance and I went to the hospital all excited for natural labor, having read books and talked to many experienced women, I was totally prepared for a beautiful experience.  As it turned out, I labored in great pain for 24 hours.  Eventually my baby was in distress and I had a c-section.  During the c-section the doctor finally saw the hidden culprit. My bone structure was too narrow.  My baby girl would never have passed through.  200 years ago, before c-sections, both my baby and I would have died.  God's gift to some women is pain free labors.  God's gift to me is c-sections with painful recoveries that are every bit worth the sacrifice of love.  

On that day, and many days following, I had the privilege to say to my daughter, "this is my body, broken for you."

Can we pray for pain free experiences?  Certainly.  Often God is pleased to rescue us.  At other times, He will walk with us through the pain, easing our suffering by being right next to us, coaching us all the way through it.  Both the pain-free experience and the pain-filled experience have the potential for powerful beauty.

A Life on the Move - Searching for Home

Weather is finally cooling here in Alabama.  Autumn is truly here, my favorite time of year! when I can open the windows and invite fresh air into my home.  It's exactly what I've waited for all summer, and tomorrow I'm leaving this gloriousness and moving to Florida for two months.  We are doing this for several reasons, work included.
A month ago, if you suggested I move to Florida for two months, I would have rejected it outright. My home is currently in Alabama.  For twenty years I have searched for a place to call home and now that I've finally found it, I don't want to leave.  Or so I thought.  

A few weeks ago, during a visit to Florida, I lay on my back at the end of yoga class and thought to myself, "wouldn't it be really great to move back and stay here for a few months?"  In that moment, I realized I still feel at home in Florida.  A few hours later I received a call and learned I would indeed be forced to move back to Florida for two months.  On my back, in a quiet moment on a wooden floor, perhaps it was the Spirit giving me an idea, preparing me for the coming news, letting me feel like it was my own idea.

A new way of life has been stirring in my heart.  For twenty years I have searched for a place to settle down and never leave, my heart yearning for a sense of belonging.  My heart still yearns.  Yet I'm making peace with the idea that some people are meant to live in one place for a lifetime and some people are meant to wander.  I thought I was the type to settle and now I'm learning that I'm meant to travel.  This explains why I felt at home in ALL the places I've lived: Vermont, Virginia, Colorado, Destin Florida, Orlando Florida, Switzerland and Alabama.  It also explains why I have always felt the urge to move on at some point.  

I always say that my true home is not of this world.  My home resides in the spiritual realm and I think I'm embracing this reality on a new level.  I was holding onto another person's ideal that did not belong in my own life and it was weighing me down.  I thought everyone needed roots to be healthy. But maybe my roots come from another Source.

Therefore, after a three month period of writer's block, as I sit down to write to you again, it seems fitting that the name of my blog has changed... again.  I am now writing to you from, Deep Scent of Jasmine: Life of a Homemaker Searching for Home.  This is the blog of a woman who will build a new nest many, many times throughout her life, continually seeking ways to change and grow.  She will always be at home and she will always be on her way Home.

As we speak, I am writing to you from my backyard patio.  This is my favorite place in the house.  It is where my almost two year old and I eat breakfast every morning, weather allowing.  She eats and plays while I drink my morning tea and slowly wake up.  I took the following photo of her this morning from this spot.  We will miss our big green lawn in Alabama, but we plan to return.  Perhaps Samantha was having a chat with Tigger about our upcoming move.  Perhaps she was preparing his heart for it.

Magazine Review - life:beautiful

My favorite magazine is considering going all digital online.  This is not simply my favorite magazine.  It is the ONLY magazine I read.  I'm a slow reader.  As a homemaker with a zillion hobbies, I don't have time for more than one magazine.  This one is perfect.  It's published seasonally, four times per year.

I LOVE this magazine.  When I learned that the changing world of print media may be forcing them to change with the times and quit printing and move to all digital format, I nearly croaked.  I love the Internet for certain things, but I also love holding beautiful print material in my own two hands as I read the life giving words and absorb the food and colors and ideas splashed across the page.  It is a rare delight and I will go into mourning if life:beautiful magazine stops arriving in my mailbox with the onset of each new season.

Therefore, I am spreading the word!  life:beautiful will continue to arrive in mailboxes across the globe if enough people express interest and subscribe.

This magazine is like a Good Housekeeping and Travel magazine and Christian Living magazine all rolled into one.  If this sounds wonderful to you, please click the link below.  Subscribe and spread the word.
This magazine has touched my life.  Not only has it inspired new recipes on my table, but there have been days when I was spiritually drooping and life:beautiful re-connected me to the Lord Himself.
Click below and see for yourself.....

http://www.lifebeautifulmagazine.com/

Infertility, Motherhood, Humility, Suffering, Joy

I lay outside in the grass today, during my baby's nap time, reading another chapter in a book about motherhood and as I read, I had a light bulb moment and I want to share it with you.

It is the following words from Sarah Mae in her book Desperate that grabbed my attention...

"I have no foundation in homemaking or baby-raising.  I only babysat maybe three or four times..... I never wanted to babysit because I didn't like it; I found it boring.  Entertaining other people's children was not my idea of a good time."

As I read those words, I found myself realizing there was a time in my life when I would have read those words and felt smug because I LOVED entertaining other people's children.  I was blessed with a foundation in homemaking and baby-raising because of a mother and grandmother who made it look like a joy.  My heart should have been humble, knowing my love of children was a gift given to me, not something that came from being a naturally wonderful person.  But did I fully understand that at 22 years old?  No.  I would have read the words of that author and secretly congratulated myself because I thought I was better than her.  I wouldn't have voiced this, but I would have thought it.  Don't we all have secret smug thoughts we would never voice?

Now, at 35, I can relate to her.  Why?  Because ten years of infertility gave me plenty of time away from children and I learned to love all the time I had for myself.  There was a season of about 5 years when I no longer wanted to babysit.  During that season, entertaining other people's children was no longer my idea of a good time either.

I do love entertaining my 10 month old baby now, and her little friends, most of the time.  The love of children has returned to me.  It came rushing back with overwhelming love for my new baby.  But because of that other season of life, I can relate to the author.  And that's when it hit me; this is yet another reason God allowed those years of infertility.  If I had not gone through that season, I would never have seen that side of my heart;  my ability to be so selfish, that it was no longer fun to play with the most adorable creatures on earth!

It's always a great relief to see myself more clearly, to see how imperfect I am and to be able to relate to other imperfect people when they admit their weakness and failures.  I'm a much happier person now, at 35, than I was at 22.  It's not fun to be proud.  It's not fun to think I'm better than others.  That is a burden of loneliness I don't need.  The more time goes by, the more I realize I can relate to every person on this planet.  Given the right set of circumstances, there is no amount of evil too great that I could not be tempted.  The more I embrace this truth, the freer I am.  Free to love others on their worst days.  Free to enjoy the fact that God loves ME, on my worst days.

I know God had many reasons for allowing infertility to be part of my story, but if the above lesson was the only reason, it would have been worth it.

I hate the reality of suffering.  I don't have an answer for every perversion and every awful thing that exists.  I watched a deer die today.  Another car hit it and I drove up seconds later.  The deer lay in the road, heaving, wide eyed, trying to breathe.  We all stood around, wondering what to do.  Eventually the deer stopped moving.  She was gone.  I don't have an answer for why stuff like that happens.  But I've seen enough good come from pain to continue to trust God in those moments when I don't know the reason or purpose for the awful.

I know I would never see myself clearly if I didn't go through trials.  Every trial has revealed more of myself and stripped away burdens I didn't need to be carrying.  Every trial has left me happier than I was before.

Becoming Like Grandma

After a 3 month silence, I have returned to you.  When I write these posts, I envision us all gathered round in a circle, sitting in the grass, with a forest behind us, warm cups of coffee or tea in our hands, like some sort of hippy gathering, as we share our stories.  I guess I had to get up and leave the circle for a while.  I needed time to grieve the passing of my grandmother.  This is the first truly painful loss I've ever experienced, and I'm learning that I handle grief with silence.

Grandma was.....

well, nothing I could say could sum it up or feel right to me.  Furthermore, to write a tribute to her would be to say that she is gone.  It would feel like I am trying to tie up something that is not finished.  I do believe she is still alive, just on the other side of a great curtain and that I will see her again one day.  So instead of writing one big epic post about how much she means to me, (because she means a great deal) perhaps her influence and memories will appear occasionally in my writings for the rest of my life.

Like me, Grandma was a homemaker.  Perhaps it is because she made this lifestyle look so desirable that I chose this path.

Homemaking covers many topics.  We could discuss so many things.  We could discuss our move into a house with a yard and a fence and all the joys of building my new nest.  But we'll save that for another day.  Today I want to talk about motherhood again.

It's really no surprise to me that the topic breaking my silence is the topic of motherhood.  Truly, it is currently my favorite subject.  It consumes nearly every waking minute of my life right now and I'm even on duty in my sleep!  A nine month old is an all consuming joy.

Yesterday a friend wrote and reminded me that it is OK to admit that motherhood is hard.  I needed to be reminded.

I knew this in the beginning when my baby was a newborn.  It's just so obvious how hard it is and most people don't try to do more than is reasonable at that point.  We are all given a pass when the baby is only two weeks old.  It's later, when things get a little easier and our capacity increases, and we get carried away and then crash and then feel lost because we no longer have any idea where our new limitations are.

I'm in that stage where my baby is sleeping a little longer and I'm finally getting a decent night's sleep.  (Not an amazing night's sleep, but a decent night's sleep.)  I assumed this meant I would immediately start feeling better and well rested for the first time in ten months.  Not the case!  Apparently one or two normal nights of sleep is not enough to heal ten months of sleep deprivation.  No, it actually is making me feel worse for a little while, my body craving MORE, MORE, MORE.  In a way, it was easier to run on insufficient sleep.  The body simply shuts down the call for sleep and functions without it for a season.  Reawaken that beast and watch out! 

I've never heard mothers talk about this stage, but apparently I'm in a season of recovery and it doesn't happen overnight.

To make it more complicated, sometime in the past month I was bit by the bug that says I need to accomplish MORE than simply raising a child.  What a joy killer.  To raise a child is an all-consuming task. Joyful, yet all consuming.  I know it is all consuming and yet I have to be reminded.  Why do I quickly forget?

Maybe every mother has a tendency to forget?  Maybe all Americans try to see how much they can accomplish?  Like it's a badge of our value as humans?  Is this why people keep passing me in the street saying, "they grow up so fast!  Enjoy it!"  As well-meaning as this is, I wish they would stop.  I am keenly aware that Samantha is growing fast and soon she will grow up and be gone.  It's a painful thought.  If I think about it too much, it will ruin the beauty of the moment.  Trying too hard to enjoy something can, in itself, rob any possibility of enjoying it.  On the other hand, by not trying hard enough, we can also miss enjoyment, so I can't fault those ladies for their mantra.  It's just that I'm the mother who needs to be reminded that she will be a BETTER MOTHER if she spends time away from her baby occasionally.  I'm the one wanting to spend every minute with her, kissing her and enjoying her, not wanting to miss a minute of her short time with me, but at the same time CRAVING, NEEDING time alone and having a hard time taking it.  The one exception is when she is with her Daddy.  I have no problem walking away and not looking back and not thinking about her when I leave her with him.  I am at complete peace in those times because I know she is having a blast and he is having a blast and he and I are so bonded, when she is with him, I feel she is still with me.  Anyone who has a marriage like this is blessed.  But I digress.  The point is, I need to take time away from my greatest joy occasionally, so I can continue to enjoy her.

It's ok to say that motherhood is hard. It's even good and necessary to admit it.  But it's way more fun to talk about how amazing and wonderful motherhood is.  The joy makes all the hard worth it.  At 9 months old, it's just now getting really fun.  It has been fun, but it's getting even more fun.  Like sitting on the kitchen floor together every morning, sharing a bowl of oatmeal from the same spoon.  Or popping bubbles in the kiddie pool out back.  Or listening to Hakuna Matata from the Lion King seven times in a row just so we can bop our heads and hands to the music.  These things are the heart of homemaking.  We stay home so we can do these things together.  That is what Grandma taught me.

Yesterday my Mom asked if I remembered the time we visited the Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream factory... the time we all nearly wet our pants laughing because Grandma got slobbered on by a cow as she tried to help us kids feed the cows in the Ben and Jerry's pasture.  The amazing bit is that she hated all things farm related.  She grew up on a farm and wanted nothing to do with it.  Yet she did it for us.  She was always a good sport.  Willing, in her 60's to ride a thrill ride with me, a 10 year old, when the circus came to town.  Speaking of the circus, she always made sure my sister and I each got our OWN cotton candy when she was buying.  An incredible luxury.  But again, I digress.  I only vaguely remember the incident at Ben and Jerry's, but it illustrates what I do remember about her.  She was always on the floor with us, doing things in our world on our level, yet at the same time, raising us up, inspiring us to join her on her level, in her world.  Come to think of it, isn't that what Christ did for us on the cross and the Holy Spirit continues to do for us every day.  He comes down to our level and enters our world to raise us up with Him to Divine Glory. 

Whether Grandma knew it or not, she was imitating Christ for us.  And this is the heart of homemaking; to imitate Christ every day.  Many of us have heard this over and over in Sunday school;  the goal in every area of life is to imitate Christ.  Yet Grandma made it look like a joy instead of a burden.  She did it without broadcasting that this was the purpose of her actions.  Indeed, it is only dawning on me now how successful she was at things others read book after book and blog after blog, seeking to become.  Perhaps, sometimes, in trying too hard, we miss the whole thing.  She wasn't into reading Christian self-help books.  For her, simply presenting a sincere heart, a willingness to serve and a humble spirit, was enough to make her legendary in the eyes of all who knew her.

I seek to be like her, even now, when she is no longer a phone call away, but separated from me by a Holy curtain.  I hope to see her again one day.  In the meantime, I will continue to eat oatmeal on the kitchen floor with my daughter, like she would have done.

Deperate for Air

It's been six months and twelve days since Samantha was born.  In the last three weeks it has begun to seem as though the hardest part of motherhood is finally behind me.  I know that will probably change.  Another tough season will come.  But for now, she is sleeping a bit longer which means I'm getting enough sleep so I no longer hit a wall every 10 minutes, feeling like I've reached the end of my capacity.  I'm breathing again.  A little bit deeper every day.

But it's still tough.  I was reminded just how tough yesterday morning as I picked up a new book written for Moms.  You know you're still in the thick of it when the first few lines of the introduction have the power to make you well up with tears, relieved and grateful that someone else knows just exactly how you feel.

"I can't be a mother today, Lord, I'm just too tired," Sarah Mae recounted of her own feelings as a young Mom.  It's those first two words that got me.  "I can't."  The exact words I battle every few days.  I counter back with "I can. And I will," based on a phrase in II Timothy that tells me "God has not given me a spirit of timidity, but of power."  I'm battling and having success, but the battle itself can be tiring at times.

As I read Sarah Mae's words, I breathed the fresh air of another woman's understanding and I looked over at my baby and wondered how this small, sweet bundle of joy, deep in peaceful sleep, could cause these tears. 

How could her presence cause me to pick up a book called Desperate?

I suppose it is the very fact of her incredible sweetness and utter vulnerability that makes me desperate to do the best job caring for her.

I am reminded of a pivotal day in February, when she was only two months old and I wasn't getting enough sleep and I realized on an new, important and deep level that I needed the air and the food of God to make it through one more day as a mother.  For several weeks, I kept running into a wall, reaching the end of myself and getting angry.  I have never experienced anything more peculiar than the type of anger that rises up in me when I am pushed to the end of myself and am still being asked for more...  when I realize more is needed and WANT to give it!... but just have no more to give?  That is the most bizarre feeling I have ever felt.  Nothing in my life before has ever brought me to the true end of my own energy and pushed me for more.  Not like this.  I felt exhausted, claustrophobic, boxed in.  My husband endured several emotional meltdowns as I reached that wall over and over and every time sat down in despair and didn't know what to do. 

I kept turning to food and sleep and a one hour break from the baby while he took a turn watching her.  These things helped a little, but they were not enough.  It was not until I remembered that "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word which proceeds from the mouth of God," that I was truly rescued.  Instead of taking a bath with the hour my husband gave me, I sat and read bits of Psalms and Proverbs and Philippians.  I drank and ate every word, transformed in 10 minutes from a woman who wasn't going to make it through one more day, to a woman who felt revived, happy and eager to go find her baby and kiss her again.  I had pushed through the wall and found the other side; the place where there is an endless supply of energy to do whatever is needed.

More Revelations from Samantha Grace

As I said, there were three particularly poignant moments in the first three months with my new baby.  The second two were revelations that hit me during conversations with her as she and I played together.

One day, as I cuddled her, I said, "Samantha, do you know your Daddy loves you?  Even though he is not around as much as I am, he loves you just as much as I do."  As those words left my mouth, it dawned on me that this is similar to the Holy Spirit telling us that the Father loves us just as much as the Spirit does.  The Spirit is WITH us, as our helper and our comforter.  The Father is in heaven preparing a place for us.

Samantha's Daddy works hard, preparing a place for her.  Which leads me to another topic... in a few months, if all goes according to plan, you will see photos of our new house, a house just down the road by the lake, a beautiful location to raise a beautiful daughter.  We plan to move in May.


The second revelation came as I played with Samantha on the bed a few days later.  I was overtaken by how wonderful she was and said, "Oh Samantha, you are SO cute and SO sweet, I can hardly bear it.  My heart can't take it.  My heart is aching from just looking at you.
That's when it hit me.  I gasped and exclaimed to her, "Samantha, if God is MORE sweet and MORE perfect than you, then NO WONDER no one can bear to look at Him!"

I've always wondered why people in the Old Testament kept dying just from catching a glimpse of God.  He was too Holy to look at?  I didn't understand it.

Now I think maybe I understand it at least a tiny bit better.

Lessons from Samantha Grace - Part One

So about that baby in this story...

After 10 years of waiting, praying and hoping, she arrived on December 8, 2012, cuter and more precious than any dream we ever conceived: Samantha Grace Sherman - which means "God hears."

I'm already dreaming of the things I want to teach her; the books I want to read to her and the places we'll go. But in these first few months of life, her presence has been teaching me far more than I've been teaching her.

There were three particularly poignant moments these first three months. Today I will tell you about the first.  It happened the first week home from the hospital. My husband and mother both left to run errands, leaving me alone with my baby for the first time ever. Before pregnancy, I prided myself on my vast experience with babies. Yet NOTHING could have prepared me for the weight of responsibility that came with the arrival of my very own baby. I was SO stressed. The delivery and c-section, left me weaker and more vulnerable than I have ever felt in my life. It baffles me, even now, to think that God entrusts a woman with the most precious task on earth, caring for a helpless newborn at the very time when we are at our weakest and most helpless ourselves. Mentally, emotionally, physically broken. I honestly don't know how I would have made it through those first six weeks without this promise from Isaiah.... "He (God) gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young."   I recited this to myself dozens and dozens of times those first weeks.

But back to that first poignant episode during week one: First, you have to know that my greatest fear that week was Samantha choking.  In the hospital there was a moment in the middle of the night when she silently started vomiting and choking on amniotic fluid and I was unprepared for it.  I happened to turn at exactly the right moment to see her choking, but I had no idea what to do and she started turning blue.  I turned her over and somehow she got through it, but I came away from the episode thoroughly traumatized and gravely afraid of being left alone with her.  Nonetheless, the moment came later that week when everyone left the house and I was alone with my baby.  I had just finished feeding her.  I sat her up to burp her and I said aloud, "Jesus, please help us not to be scared by ANYTHING."  What I meant to say, was, "Please don't let anything scary happen."  But that's not what I accidentally said.  I said, "please help us not to be scared by anything."  So what did He do?  He expertly allowed the thing for which I was most afraid to happen at that very moment.  Literally, as the last word left my mouth, Samantha projectile vomited for the first time, splashing the bassinet, two feet away.  Milk came out of her mouth AND NOSE!

We lived through it and I smiled.  He could not have more clearly spoken into my life to say, "We are not going to avoid all scary situations.  Instead, I will be WITH you and you do not need to be scared by ANYTHING.

For those of you who think a baby vomiting is not a scary thing, it is humbling to share this story with you.  Indeed, it does seem a bit silly to me, looking back on it now.  But we all have fears.  Insert a different fear and maybe you can relate.  What fear do you carry that you can let Jesus be WITH you to overcome?