The News Around Here January 7, 2014Posted by dreamom in Balance, family, Goals, Happiness, Home, Homeschooling, Life, Parenting.
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It has been more than a while since I wrote last – which explains why I have a hard time creating a following…
What’s new? We have a new baby girly (Sweet P). She is overly loved by The Wild Man, J-Man, The Little Lady, and The Monkey Man. It was surreal having her arrive so quickly, nicely at home after the two losses before her. She has a infectious laugh and the brightest eye, and The. Most. Pinchable. Cheeks. Ever.
Monkey man is finishing grade 8, and looking forward to … ::gulp:: high school next year. He sees himself as so mature and grown up, but he is still my baby boy in so many ways.
The others are being homeschooled, and it is amazing to walk that education journey with them. It definitely has ups and downs, but more about those later.
One thing that I have been thinking on lately is that I ENJOY writing. In an effort to do more of what I enjoy, I hope to write a bit more frequently. To do that I am going to have to tame the busyness that we get caught up in though. That is part of my goals going forward. Writing more, work on photography, create more life balance for the family, and work on publishing my book that I wrote eons ago.
We are off to a rousing start. I took on a project that took up too much time and had me scrambling all last week, and now we are sorely out of routine while a blizzard rages outside. It was a snow day for school (people were trilled), and work (people were anxious and upset), and now all the roads in the county are closed, and the temperature is dropping to -20 PLUS windchill. I think tomorrow might be more of the same…
Milestones March 18, 2012Posted by dreamom in 1000 Gifts, Faith, family, Fears, Goals, Happiness, Home, Life, Peace, Pregnancy Loss.
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As humans we are drawn to milestones. There are birthdays, graduations, anniversaries, coming of age celebrations – We use them to measure our lives and accomplishments. We use them to celebrate and revel in the joy of making it to the next milestone.
Some milestones are not as pleasant to dwell on. We tend to dwell on them too as we remember, relive, and grasp at the loss it represents. Recently I was up too late on the computer, and I noticed that the date rolled over to the 2nd of March – marking one month since finding out about the death of the baby in my womb. At that moment it gave me pause, and I faced with apprehension the coming 24hrs and what emotions that might bring. I posted on Facebook to mark the event and went to bed.
It was only one month previous that I got the news, I faced head on a very dark time as I faced the loss, made decisions and waited. I remembered the despair, the confusion, the feeling that nothing was ever going to be okay again. I woke up in the morning and I was surprised that initially I … forgot. I intended to take the day as it came, and when I did I found I was not focusing on the pain that I was remembering. I was moving through my day and I was not pulled back to the place of sorrow and tears. Instead I was grateful for the distance I had come. I was thankful that those huge, harsh emotions I felt were not threatening to overcome me again. In fact, I found I had to remind myself of the day from time to time. At one such point I began to ponder why. Why am I WORKING to revisit a pain that I am not feeling? I decided that if I started to feel the pain that I should address it, but otherwise I did not need to force myself back there.
It is now a little more than 24 hours to marking one month since Hannah’s birth. Again I find that I don’t feel the pain that I feared I might. I am remembering the joy. The joy of the support of friends, the joy of seeing Hannah, the joy of moving to the next step…
Today in Sunday morning Bible Study I was reminded of my old stand-by verses:
“2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. 4 Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” James 1:24
and I also thought about:
“6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7
Now who would get something for which they consider it a joy (a birthday present for instance), thank the giver, and then a month later think back with sadness, regret, or even anger? For me this is what this is like. I CAN look back on various aspects of losing Hannah and find lots of things that hurt, moments of loneliness, words, actions, inactions that hurt. But why? Why take something that I DECIDED (it was not a natural inclination, but a conscious decision that required purposeful action to carry out) to “Consider … pure joy”, and take the gift of “the peace of God, which transcends all understanding” and set it aside for the sorrow, grief, pain, emptiness, envy, despair, anger, etc. that I would be left with? I could use it to mark the days. I could use it to say “See what I suffered?”, but the fact is I can’t. I have gone there numerous time looking for it. Expecting it. I have been told flat out that it is there, but I can tell you that today, and the days I have checked with certain trepidation, that it is not.
I can tell you that I wholly and fully gave all of that to God. When I was not eating (dare I say fasting), and I was reading the Bible, I was counting the gifts, I was offering *with thanks* the whole experience to God – something amazing happened. He did exactly what he said he would do. He took it. He gave me a “peace that transcends all understanding” (even mine – ESPECIALLY mine). I don’t intend to hand that back. What I do plan to do is that as the days, weeks, months and years wear on I plan to keep giving thanks, for everything he gave me, but none less than the peace I have. If a day comes where I find those emotions and scars that I expect to find – I plan to do just as I have done. Consider it joy, give thanks, and give it to God.
As for marking the days that I could – I am not going to try. I am going to see what days become important. I am not going to paint them with the brush of loss, but see what gifts God chooses to bestow on those days. I will not be marking milestones of grief, but rather will celebrate in all that God has given me through this unique journey he has taken me on.
19 Days February 22, 2012Posted by dreamom in 1000 Gifts, Faith, family, Fears, Goals, Happiness, Home, Life, Pregnancy Loss.
Tags: 1ooogifts, birth process, homebirth
This story starts on the day that I found out that my baby had died in my womb. After hearing the news from a midwife I had not yet met, having the OB on call at the hospital near by phone with answers to some questions – she asked if I knew what I wanted to do – I could go see the OB to talk about induction with Mesoprostal (Cytotec) or a D&E (the big brother of the infamous D&C which involves the added step of cutting the fetus into manageable sizes for extraction), or go home and wait for my body to deliver my still baby. The only options that seemed reasonable at all was waiting and induction. I looked around the office at the pictures of developing babies, and at the multiple bulletin boards of people’s pictures with their babies sent to thank the midwives for being with them for their child’s arrival. I said “My plan was always to deliver at home unless it was medically necessary to do otherwise. I still feel like that is what I want. Can I plan on that for now?” No problem. Very reasonable.
In a stooper that was brought on by the axe of grief being applied heavily to my womb, I left. I visited some friends and went home. There I fell into a grief that was wider and deeper than I knew was possible. For a couple of days I did not sleep, for several I did not eat. I went to the Dr, and saw the OB and discussed options and had blood work explained and done – and all of it was in a fog. I had friends all over the world holding a space for me to cry and talk, and vent, and question. From where I am now that week seems surreal – like a dream. Being a ‘religious person’ it was impossible that my faith would not play a role. Much like I believe that God created me, and my body, and the birth process, so I believe that He created the process to clear a pregnancy that is not viable. I decided early on in the process that not only did I deserve the homebirth I had planned, and my baby deserved the homebirth I had planned, but that unless it was medically necessary at some point that God’s design for my body would work, and I would deliver this baby without interventions.
When all this began – in that first week I was sure that this was the worst thing that had ever, and could ever happen. I thought that if I made sure that this experience had a permanent place of being monumental that my baby’s life would matter. It became this cornerstone for my faith that I needed to see through. As people commented and pushed and questioned and ‘expressed concern for my health’ over the choice to wait for God’s timing, and wait for this delivery to happen naturally **unless it was medically necessary to do otherwise** (<< key point here – I kept under the watchful eye of the local OB who was supportive, and dutifully had blood drawn twice a week to screen for problems that might indicate a need to re-evaluate the plan) I became hemmed into the choice I had made. I had people who had made different choices for themselves, or perhaps some weren't given choices criticizing me for waiting. I was risking my life, according to them, and that was not fair to my husband and kids… My mom will tell you that I am stubborn like my grandmother, and all the pressure was doing nothing but strengthening my resolve to see this out. Suddenly my baby's delivery was not only a process for me to go through and accept, but necessary to prove that God, nature, and my body could and would know what to do – and NOT to me, because I *know* – but to all the people I was feeling pressured by – most of whom were Christians themselves.
Throughout this process I was healthy (after I resumed eating) and could do anything I wanted, but didn't like leaving the house much – especially alone. The only thing that anyone could promise me was that the process is not one you can predict – less so than with a full term delivery – so the idea of delivering my dead child in the grocery store, or church did not appeal to me and I chose to stay close to home. This also meant I did not see a lot of people, but the same friends were holding my space and 'hanging out' on Google+ regularly and were my connection to the outside world when the outside world stayed away.
As the days wore on I grieved, I got books to read, planned how to handle the delivery and the body, and everything in between. I revisited my 1000 Gifts book and listed 18 things about the situation at that point that I was thankful for. During this time I made an important decision. As much as this news rocked me, and was challenging my beliefs, testing my resolve, and forcing me to learn things that I would have been happy to stay ignorant about for the rest of my life – I decided that This. Was. Not. Going. To. Define. Me. I had already lost the baby, but that was not WHO I was, but rather just one thread weaved through the fabric of my life. Where that thread was, and the prominence it would have would make no difference to my child – but it would to me. I want it to be there, and special, but not the central thing. Making this decision was a huge milestone in my processing of the whole thing. It had to be. It was up to me how this aspect of my life would affect me, and who I was… It didn't really change anything I was doing, but it changed how I thought about it.
Over the following days I would pick up my friend who came by train from Montreal with her toddler to see me – someone she had never met in person (just over FB and skype) but wanted to be with me through the process. The following weekend another friend from Montreal was coming to spend the weekend and take her home. Over the course of the next week there was much talking, tears, and chocolate, and my resolve was to have this baby with them with me.
In an effort to speed things along I tried homeopathic remedies, accupressure and trying to make sure that I was not mentally holding on at all. All the while praying for my body to release my dead child. I was sure that these things were going to work, but then they didn't. There were signs that it was close – but it didn't happen. I was SO frustrated. The friend coming on the weekend offered to bring something with her that should work that I could use at home, but that I didn't have to use it – she knew I wanted to wait and see this out. I told her to bring it, but that I didn't know how I felt.
Shortly before she got here I had an epiphany of sorts. I realised that I was making the same moment in my life that I did not want to define me, my 'hill to die on'. It was going to prove to me and all who knew me that God/nature/my body works – but NOT define me? Hmmm I had to think this one out. I KNOW my body was working to release the baby, and I KNOW that it was designed to do so when something happened to a pregnancy. Who was I proving this to, and why? The fact is I was proving it to the doubters. The people who were sure that without a D&C (but don't forget that at this stage that is a D&E) that I would suffer from infection and haemorrhage and die were the ones I was determined to wait for. *I* didn't want it to define me. So it came down to am I A) going to do this a certain way for them or B) MY way (cue Frank Sinatra). The fact is that I believe in organic and natural food, but I don't always buy it because of various choices made week to week in the grocery store. I believe in natural medicine, but choose to compliment it with Western medicine at times for different reason's. If this moment in my life was going to be like anything else I was going to make choices like in all those times for what I and my family needed. People would just have to learn to trust God and their body's themselves. This was my journey, and no one else's.
My second friend arrived, we visited some friends, came home and I took a small amount of the stuff she brought in the hopes that it would be the nudge I needed. Whether it was that or whether it was the knowledge that I had done this myself and for myself in a way that honoured my beliefs it began to work RIGHT away. 7 hours later I birthed my baby girl in one piece in the caul. Everything about that birth was perfect for what it was.
After the birth I took my time – I listened to my body and myself in terms of how to move, when to move, when to look at the baby I delivered. I cried oceans in the 19 days leading up to this, but on that day – not a tear. I was ready. I could look at my daughter as a marvel instead of a loss and a hole in my heart. In the moments after the birth I marvelled at HOW okay I was. My friends and I wondered if women who are rushed through the process to end it quickly, if they miss out on that? I think back to Hannah's birth as amazing, wonderful, a release. There is no sadness, no regret. I had who I needed with me and was in my space. I can't think of how I would change it given the limitation of the circumstances.
When I think back to Hannah's life – that is where the sadness is – that I didn't see her take a breath, nurse her, raise her. That is sad. But that is the way it was meant to be for reasons that I can't fathom. I LOVE that amid that sadness – that heaviness of heart – that I can look back on her birth and smile. It was perfect. What a difference 19 days made.
#92. 19 Days
Hello. Did you miss me? Hello? Hello? HELLO!!! Nope. No one here. October 10, 2010Posted by dreamom in family, Goals, Happiness, Home, Life.
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We just got back from the in-laws where we stuffed ourselves with a turkey dinner, and we finished off the day with a supper of pie and coffee. Yup. This is Thanksgiving in Canada – and I have not written in over three months if my math is correct – which it might not be, but who cares.
We had a good last few months in Manitoba, trying to make the most of visiting friends, and doing the things that we might have wanted to do after we left. When I get to sorting out my pictures from the last few months I will try to post on the events.
Things were stressful there for a bit while we debated where we were going to live. We pondered a bunch of communities, but settled on the metropolis of St. Marys Ontario. Yup. You read that right. No ‘. There should be I think, but then I didn’t name the place. Also – don’t call it quaint. They don’t like that here. It has most of what you need, as long as you don’t need clothes or shoes, as pointed out by my MIL. Good point. There is a nice independent bookstore, restaurants, coffee shop, craft stores, hardware, and pet shops. Really it is just missing the clothes and shoes. Hopefully some enthusiastic entrepreneur will read this and decide they want to open a shop for clothes and shoes, and that St. Marys is the perfect place to do it.
The house we are in is a big old farmhouse with lots of rooms and space. It will be nicer once the painting and unpacking is done, but it is nice to have our own place. The in-laws (who are now about 10 minutes away) were instrumental in finding this place. They did a fabulous job! The landlord is great, and is a solid guy – working himself to the bone to make things right. There has been lots of opportunity for it too. Turns out a bunch of wasps found their way into the walls and built themselves a big old nest, and it was a good week long job killing the wasps, getting rid of the nest, sealing their entry point, and fixing the wall. We are hoping to paint in there this week, and be able to use that room! The yard is great for the kids and the dog. Yup. You heard it. We got a dog. Gluttons for punishment. What can I say? Lastly I have a clothes line. I have waited for 6 years for a good clothes line, and this is it. I wish we could stay here forever, but I will be happy to stay until we can save up and buy a place. We are praying that Kevin can keep getting work in the area so that we and the kids can just stop moving. This one really did us in.
Well, it’s been a slice, but I have to run. I came on to send an email to the BIL, and got distracted. Hi again though. 🙂
Don’t mind me – I’m just trying… August 4, 2009Posted by dreamom in family, Fears, Goals, Happiness, Home, Homeschooling, Life, Parenting.
It was suggested to me some time ago that when Mom’s use the word ‘trying’ that they are setting themselves up for failure. I listened intently, and added some thoughts of my own, and decided that it is true.
I volunteer for an organization which comes along side breastfeeding mom’s and offers various types of support as needed. I hear Mom’s say “I am going to try to breastfeed” all the time. If I had a nickle for every time I heard it, I would be a rich woman indeed. (Feel free to give me a nickle when you use that term with me! lol). My thought was always ‘FANTASTIC! They are going to try!’ What was pointed out to me though is that in saying that they are leaving the possibility open for failure, and thus reducing their commitment (as to not look to do more than trying) and increasing the chance of… non-success. In hindsight this makes perfect sense to me, and I can see that playing out in the people I have ‘trying’. The solution?
It was also suggested that what we as parents should do is just make a decision – such as “I am going to breastfeed” (which incidentally what I did unintentionally). If things aren’t going well, and your life is falling apart, you aren’t receiving sufficient support, and you feel trapped – you don’t just gradually make little consessions here and there – eventually slipping out of breastfeeding without noticing it – you make a new decision. Perhaps saying “I will now be pumping to supplement one feed” or some such thing as to make it manageable, yet maintain control and having a clear idea of where you stand.
I found this to be a fantastic way of looking at things and have been trying to rephrase my parenting strategies as to tell myself, as well as others that I am committed to said strategy. For instance, I am no longer ‘trying’ homeschooling. I AM homeschooling. When and if I see a need to make a new decision regarding the education of my children (for which I can choose – sadly for one child I am stuck with whatever I can manage to get from the PS system…), I will. This has made all the difference for me. I can plan things without fearing looking foolish, and I can order curriculum without ‘hoping’ not to waste money. I can tell the kids that we ARE doing such and such today without hoping I wasn’t just wasting everyone’s time on something that might not work…
Today I began to read a book in preparation for the birth of baby #4. I know that when I tell you the topic that many of you will choke on your tea, water, etc. and say “Why on earth would you try something like that!?” It is on having a Diaper Free baby. I was first introduced to Elimination Communication (EC) by a good friend (who I miss dearly) from Guelph. I was skeptical too – although I hope I was nice about it… The first time I was handed the baby and was asked if I could ‘pee her’ (at maybe 2 months), and I did the whistle cue, and that sweet baby started to pee – I was convinced! I tried to start with Jordan at that point, but he was nearing 10 months and having nothing of it… Keep in mind I was ‘trying’. I did start attending the EC meetings and met other Mom’s (besides my friend) who were, or had done this style of infant hygiene with success. I knew that this was indeed something I wanted to do – if only Jordan was willing…
Now with baby #4 getting closer, I started reading the book to refresh my memory of what I was hoping to embark on, and build up my knowledge bank so I would be ready. Tonight as I headed for bed I set down the book, and with renewed vigor thought “I will have to try that.” At that moment it hit me. I was only planning to try. I was in other ways getting the diapers organized, thinking about where to put them so they would be handy. I was pondering getting disposables for the icky umbilical cord days. I was only trying. I was excited to try, but even for something as non-life threatening as diapering decisions I was getting my emergency plan in place and planning my escape route. I would like to say that going diaper free is more daunting than breastfeeding, thus relieving myself of the commitment to the decision, but that is just not the case. I was lucky to have access to the support I needed and the stubborn drive to get through the bumps, and the fact that I gave myself no other option for infant feeding. Baby was getting my milk. Period. I was not going to pump for the nursing years because that is way too hard. Period. Somehow the baby and myself were going to figure out the dance of milk transfer from me to baby. Period. There was no word ‘try’. EVER.
If I am going to plan to succeed with this I am going to have to erase the word ‘try’, and insert the word ‘do’. Period. If I was having this baby in Guelph I would know that I would have the support of my dear ECing friend, and the group of women who met to support each other in this diaper choice that was so against the norm. Here in good ol’ Manitoba I don’t have that. My friend Mhairi is supportive – although having not done it herself… yet 🙂 That is all I know. Heck I have been a bit of a black sheep here for having cloth diapers. (When mom’s see the diapers or covers they beam and say “OH! You have cloth diapers!” Like they have just found water in the desert…) It is going to be hard to not try. It is going to be harder still to just do it. I can’t wait to start explaining my taking my infant into the bathroom at… anywhere! I DO know that it is achievable, and I do think that it is a wise choice (in the end) for Mom, baby, and the environment – but this is going to take an AWFUL lot of doing!
Gearing up for the week, months ahead… February 22, 2009Posted by dreamom in Faith, family, Goals, Happiness, Home, Life, Parenting.
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So, today got off to a bad start. I believe that the root of that would have been my blogging at 4:30 in the morning, instead of sleeping. My problem tends to be that when I am stressed I tend to sleep poorly. I know that I shouldn’t feel stressed or anxious about the upcoming move – after all, God knows where we will live, and how we will manage, and has all that looked after. There is always a disconnect between knowing it, and living it though…
I ended up crawling into Kyle’s bed with him last night – I was not the only one up all night – All three kids were moving about the house at various points in the night in search of other sleeping arrangements. Once I was in Kyle’s bed, I did sort of, sleep okay – just short…
I woke up at 8, and due to not being prepared, had to be at church for 8:30. Right as I was walking out the door of the house I got a call from the church saying that the teacher on the schedule had talked to me about being unavailable for this week due to being involved in the service. I did remember that conversation, and I at this point realised that I had never dealt with that. Not only was I going into the lesson at 11am unprepared, I might also be teaching the 9! Luckily the teachers husband was willing and able to take on the class, and I helped by preping his craft for him. Whew! That was a close call. That was also the reminder I needed that I can no longer perform this role effectively, and I made it a priority to fill my remaining weeks of teaching. On the 8th I have a coordinators meeting, and if no one has come forward by then – I will go ahead and step down with no one to pass the torch to. I know that I can’t keep doing this…
After church my husband and I decided that we would do the run to Ikea to get bunk-beds and the bedding that the kids are in need of, and that we need to get before we leave Ontario. It started out fine, but after a while I was frustrated that I wasn’t getting the support of my husband (who preferred to disappear – thankfully with the kids), the kids were melting down because that is what kids do in a large chaotic environment, and Kevin was melting down because that is what Kevin does in a large chaotic environment. By the time we left we were all in a tizzy. We decided that we would treat everyone to a cinnabon, and trekked across the city to get one. We got there to find that they were closed. Closed and sold out according to the grumpy lady in the store… At this point we threw in the towel and went to Pizza Hut for supper. I turned out to be quite pricey, but at least we got home in time to get our pre-fed kids in bed…
I am sitting here planning to go to bed early – as soon as Jordan is ready in fact.
Merry-Go-Round January 27, 2009Posted by dreamom in family, Goals, Happiness, Home, Life.
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About a year after the fiasco about Winkler – Kevin has been offered, properly offered a job in Manitoba. This time it is Dupont, and the town is Carman, but they are so close that Winkler is the closest Lablaws, Walmart kinda town.
I am excited. After several years of the student life, and ther reams of failed attempts to find jobs locally, Kevin and I are both ready to move on. It is not without challenges, of course. First of all is the fact that this moves Kyle further away from his Dad. Although this is not our first choice, it is manageable. Already his Dad lives in Montreal, so it is not a matter of him slipping around the block to see him now. On the other hand, we are able to take advantage of some of his Dad’s business trips to sneak in a visit. The challenge that Winkler will present is that the visits will have to be more planned.
The kids are another challenge. It is hard for kids to see how a move will affect them, and as such cause them concern. The key is that this move is going to give them an opprotunity to see a part of Canada in a context that they might not see other parts. We will get to meet people, experience living in one of the prarie provinces, and widen our base of experience.
I need to run! Much packing needs to be done…
It Only Took Three Years January 12, 2009Posted by dreamom in family, Goals, Home, Life.
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About 4 years ago, I got a “Little Green Machine” from Air Miles. About 3 years ago I lent it to my sister, and subsiquently my father, and by the time the little machine arrived home, it failed to work properly. It would no longer squirt out water, rendering it… not quite useless, but close. When we moved to a new city, we trucked it along, as I had hopes of giving it a thorough cleaning, and returning it to an operational state. Today was that day.
I went to the basement after getting the kidlets tucked into their beds, and began work on the Little Linty Machine. I rinsed the out side, removing scads of dust and lint, I cleaned out the output, and input tanks. Then I set to work on the hose. I tried running pure vinegar through it to no avail. My husband dug into the depths of the basement and produced a screwdriver. Sure enough – when we had exposed the delivery hose, we found that the hose was jammed full of calcium and soap scum. After an intensive operation which resulted in vinegar in Kevin’s mouth (blowing it through the hose), and my eyes and nose, as I undertook the delicate operation to release the crud – I am proud to say that I was successful in restoring the Little Green to an operative state. Just in time to use on some soupy poop. Now here we go to clean it again!
Sitting at the Precipice April 10, 2008Posted by dreamom in Faith, family, Goals, Happiness, Life.
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One week ago our life was normal. Normal for us, anyway. Last week my husband answers a phone call at dinner that sent our week in a tail-spin. Really nothing changed per se. The guy at the other end of the phone was calling from a respected company suggesting that my husband consider a position doing his dream job. The catch? The position would be in Winkler Manitoba.
For those who are not familiar with their Canadian geography, that would be 2000kms away. That is a big shift in the ‘dream’. I have not got anything specifically against Manitoba, short of the fact that I have had very little experience with it. That is the reason that this possibility is both exhilarating and terrifying. Thus the precipice.
On one side is the familiar. It is a free fall of living day to day. It is a constant rhythm of trusting that God will move and act, and that the people you love will respond to your need. It is a constant need. My husband and I dream of being financially independent, and of being able to make choices in life, instead of doing things, or not doing things out of a lack of resources.
On the other side is something that we did not go looking for, but appears to have landed in our lap. We are afraid to rest our hopes in it because it seems too good to be true. On the other hand we know that if this comes to be, that it is God’s handiwork. That being said – it is daunting to think of moving to an unknown area and starting fresh.
Both options are terrifying, and regardless one of them will be the outcome. Daily – hourly – possibly more – I cry out to God that I trust him. I believe that he is telling me… “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.'” (Jeremiah 29:11-13) I am seeking him, and all he has said is “Wait”. Part of me is okay with that. I have been much more patient that I thought I would. I know that whatever happens, that God will be there, and that he will faithfully provide. My anxiety is coming more from a blossoming excitement that I am afraid to let out, incase I am going ahead of God instead of following him.
I am not sure if there is a lesson in this situation, but there is certainly a test. Am I willing to live the life I intend to. Will I seek after God’s will, or charge off to carry out my own agenda? Will I let God direct my life, or try to direct it myself? I am trying. I am praying to God. I am searching the scripture for the words that he wants me to hear. So far the only words are “wait”, “trust”, and “I am in control”. So here I sit. At the precipice. Waiting to see where God will lead. Praying for the strength to do what he asks. Ready to close my eyes, fall over the edge – knowing that I will land in his arms, and soar on wings like eagles; run and not grow weary, walk and not be faint.
The Big Move March 16, 2008Posted by dreamom in Goals, Life.
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I was first introduced to the world of blogging by a good friend. That was good for a while, but I got tired of the day to day dribble, and soon Facebook took over that part of my life. Now what…
With a husband in school, and looking after 3 kiddies at home I found my self envious of the very thing that my husband was trying to force himself to do. Writing. I offered to write his thesis for him, but it turns out it helps to know something about the effects of temperature and moisture on nitrogen availability to write the thesis. Who knew 😉
I had a friend that had a Blogger blog. She loved the different writing challenges she was involved with, and loved the opportunity to write. Sounded great! I stayed for a while – never got involved, and found that it didn’t address the part of me that needed something.
One day I was looking for help in a message board. I found someone there that has already profoundly changed my life, and my blog location…
As a girl one of my favorite books was Anne of Green Gables. In it there is a part where Anne is excited beyond belief to find a kindred spirit. That is what I feel like when it comes to my friend Birdy.
We are alike in many ways. We both love to sing (her better than I), we both love our kids, we both love our husbands, we both love the Lord, we both have had struggles with our families of origin, we both have issues with routines and organization (how we met), we both have issues with weight, and the list goes on and on. In other ways we are wildly different. She was born in a foreign country, I have never had the need for a passport. She cooks with curry, and I hate the smell of it (sorry!). She is traditional in ways that I am granola crunching, and visa versa.
Somehow, despite these things, or because of these things she has an amazing impact on me. I know that our friendship has caused a disruption in her schedules and life, and I am trying to give her space to keep her life her own. I also fall into funks when I feel like she gives me more than I give her. She hates it when I do that though. She would rather serve as encouragement than to increase my negative self-talk.
As I make my move to the WordPress community we also are embarking on an adventure together. My code name – GI Jane. 🙂