Thursday, December 23, 2010

here we go again...

I have peed on six pregnancy test sticks this week.  One was negative.  Two days later, a very, very faint second pink line appeared.  That was Thursday, December 16th, seven days before the "missed period".  Friday, still faint second line.  Saturday, the line was darker and by Sunday, I had an obvious second pink line.  For fun, I took one more test, the last in the package, just to play "peek-a-boo" with the new baby. 

A new baby.  Words fail me.  How do I describe the complex war of emotions pushing against each other inside my heart and thoughts?  I am happy.  We did this on purpose.  We tried for a baby.  I am grateful.  God has given us life again.  I am scared.  What if....  

And so we begin anew.  I am four weeks pregnant.  New due date.  New story.  New baby.  

It's the tenth grandbaby.  Again.  It's my fifth baby.  Again.  Where do I start count?  Technically, this is my seventh baby, if you count the disappearing twin (Rose's pregnancy) and our lost October baby.  But no one counts those babies.  For all appearances, this is our fifth child.  

I hold my breath and pray.  And trust God for His eternal plan to come to fruition within me.  

The joy is different.  

Saturday, December 11, 2010

New Mexico Home Beginning to Fit

Moving continues to be life altering.  Yes, that sounds quite dramatic and trite, but it is true.  Relocating involves yanking up roots.  Healthy roots grow deep down into the soil of life and I had let mine really grow in Virginia.  

At first my root replanting did not seem to take in New Mexico.  I fell in love with the mountains surrounding Alamogordo, but everything else felt foreign.  But God is faithful!  I realized recently that my house now feels like MY house.  Like breaking in a pair of new shoes, my house is feeling more and more like it fits me.  

When we left VA, we left a swamp.  Everything was wet and mushy in Virginia.  From the swamp to the dessert we came.  There is no mush in New Mexico.  Our basin is a dust bowl.  When I walk across the dry earth, my foot prints kick up dust that swirls up my body and into my throat and nostrils.  After playing outside, the kids return covered in dust.  Their hair, skin, and clothes are a different color, wearing the blanket of dirt.  

I still ache for my friends.  Building friendships takes time and I have only begun the process.  There are many women here who are embracing me and my family; that comforts me greatly.  I look forward to our relationship growing as we learn more about each other and share our hearts.  

I like Alamogordo; I believe it will be a place of many beautiful memories.  I miss Virginia; I was comfortable and happy there.  I long for Heaven; where there will be no more pain or tears.  Heaven is my home.  I don't think there will be an adjustment period in Heaven.  It will feel like home from the very first millisecond of eternal life.  

"This world is not my home, I'm just passing through..."  -Albert Brumley

Thursday, December 02, 2010

a forced-silent mother still going strong

Its been a quiet ten days.  My voice faded away Monday night in the midst of sinus ick.  The Internet says the best thing for laryngitis is to "rest the vocal chords".  First of all, I'm a mother and am requested to communicate at all times of the day and often at night.  Secondly, I'm me and I like to talk.  Thirdly, it was the Thanksgiving holiday and we had family from out of town at our house.  I talked.  A lot.  (Ofcourse, you understand, when I say "talk" I mean scratched out words using this gravely excuse for a voice.)  All my talking aggravated the sore vocal chords and they rebelled. 

Lela said at prayer this morning, "Can we ask God to give Mommy her old voice back.  I don't like this one."  I am worried that I've forgotten how to talk correctly.  Even now when I try, my voice comes out wrong.  It's very strange.  

Now, I present to you, the TOP FIVE things I've learned about my life minus my unmistakable and loud voice:

5) It is next to impossible to talk on the phone when your voice is gone.  Eventually, I had to quit answering the phone and allow Jason to be my phone guy.  He did great.  "Yes, she's here, but, no, she can't talk on the phone right now."

4) I can mother with a soft voice.  It can be done.  Clapping gets children's heads to turn up and look at me as quickly, if not more, than hollering for them.  My handicapped voice required me to be in very close proximity of the kiddo's ear when giving instruction.  They listened.  

3) Did you know whispering is actually harder on your voice then talking?  Although Internet sources all agree, I just don't believe it.  For me, trying to talk, well, there were times when absolutely nothing would come out!

2) Jason admits, he has enjoyed less yelling.  Ouch.  But I'm taking the constructive criticism to heart and, even though my voice is starting to make an appearance, I'm gonna try to not bring back the yelling.  

1) I miss singing to my kids!  While the bedtime routine has been drastically reduced, I would rather it take ten minutes to sings songs and say real prayers instead of settling for kisses and whispered and strained "I love you".

So that's it.  I've enjoyed having a voice tonight.  Online.  A typed, clipped voice.  Squeak-squeak.   

revolutionary love

I have experienced revolutionary love. Love with no strings attached. Jesus Christ loves me and made a way for me to have a relationship with the One True God. God desires a relationship with you, too. If you have yet to experience this revolutionary love, please email me at so I can share this amazing experience with you. Blessings, -Jess