Three Years Later

She would have just turned three.  She was due May 1.  Three years ago.

I can't believe over three years have gone by.  Time is just flying by.  Everyone said it would and it does.  Life with five boys, there's always somewhere to be driving, someone to be helping with homework, someone needing love, someone needing discipline, someone needing a listening ear.  So day by day, the time goes by.  These three years have been wonderful.  The boys are getting so fun as they get older.  I'm really enjoying seeing glimpses of how their adultness and how after they aren't my responsibility anymore, that we might just get along just fine (PLEASE, boys, marry well... because I really want to like your wife too!).  Is it crazy that I'm starting to think about those things?  I just told Graham we were going to have a meeting of the minds right after school ends about college savings and what we expect him to contribute?!  I mean, he was JUST a toddler.

So life is full and glorious.  I don't want this to be a completely depressing post.  But I do miss her.  I still think about her every day.  I pass little girl clothes as Target and let my eyes linger for a few seconds because I see something I know I would have picked out for her.  Nathan told me just yesterday his number one wish was for a baby sister (#2 was all the legos in the world so that's really saying something that a sister ranked above that one!).  Several friends have had baby girls in the last couple of years and so, of course, it makes me wish that I was a part of that.  I even feel like I should be a part of that.  There is still an empty feeling that I often have a hard time fighting.

Having another baby is really the first significant thing in my life that I want, but I can't have.  There's no "rainbow baby" in sight.  In fact, we had another miscarriage a couple of years ago.  I sat there in disbelief in the sonogram room... again... sort of numb because on the one hand, I was expecting it to end this way.  But on the other hand... really?  Who has five miscarriages in a row after having five completely healthy pregnancies?  And what is the purpose in this?  Does there need to be a purpose that we see here on Earth when we suffer?  What does it mean when prayers aren't answered?

I guess I write this post because I know we ALL will have suffering.  We will ALL have things, good things, that our hearts want that God does not give us.  Or we may be given things we never wanted.  There's more hardships to come in my life, I know.  There's no escaping death and dying.  There's no escaping the fact that life is difficult.  There will always be that thing that is just beyond our reach.  But the truth is that longing for that thing reminds of our humanness and our need for a Savior.  We were created with that desire that can only be fulfilled in Christ.  And only FULLY fulfilled in heaven when we are with him.  And we shall see Him as He is.

These are the thoughts stewing around in my mind, the things that I think about when I miss her.  I want to remember all the babies we lost.  They are all a part of our family's story.  My boys know the sanctity of life in a way they wouldn't have otherwise.  They've been tenderhearted when I have cried.  These experiences are bittersweet.  But so much of life is.

I have a hard time picking a favorite hymn, but O Love That Will Not Let me Go, is one I can never sing enough...  These days, they are full of joy, full of laughter, full of sin, full of confession, full of grace, full of longing, sometimes sunny, sometimes cloudy, but there IS a love that will never let me go.

O love that will not let me go

I rest my weary soul in thee

I give thee back the life I owe

That in thine ocean depths its flow

My richer, fuller be

O light that followest all my way

I yield my flickering torch to thee

My heart restores its borrowed ray

That in thy sunshines glow its day

May brighter, fairer be

O joy you seek me through the pain

I cannot close my heart to thee

I trace the rainbow through the rain

And feel the promise is not vain

Then morn shall tearless be

Why I Cried at Goodwill

I wrote this almost a year ago and didn't know if I would ever post it.  It seems appropriate because today is the 3rd anniversary of the day we found out, at nearly 16 weeks, that our baby's heart wasn't beating.  Life has gone on, in a good way.  But still, sometimes (mostly unexpectedly), sadness returns in the little things, and makes you cry with a kind stranger at Goodwill.

It was a good high chair.  It had this handy tray that popped off that was so easy to clean.  It was an unobtrusive high chair.  It didn't have lots of crevices for food to get stuck in.  It fit both babies and toddlers.  We got it when Asher was a baby.  It's served us well.

It was a good swing too.  It rocked all of my babies.  Graham liked it, but he was such a good baby, he liked anything you put him in.  Asher couldn't have survived without it.  He cried if you DIDN'T put him in the swing.  Samuel didn't care for it much... he just liked being held.  Joseph loved it and took many naps swinging back and forth.  Nathan, well, he was Cry Cry.  So he cried in it.  

There wasn't anything magical about either of them, except that my kids spent hundreds of hours in them, the high chair especially.  They ate their first birthday cake in it.  All boys were so happy in their high chair.  I would put them in it while they watched a Thomas show with a snack.  I would put them in it with some crayons to color with or a special toy when they were melting down.  Sometimes babies and toddlers need boundaries and the chair was a good boundary.  It was a part of their growing up. 

Baby Graham

Asher's first birthday

Samuel's 2nd birthday.

He didn't want to touch the frosting ;)

Nathan

Baby Nathan

Joseph

This was on Asher's 5th birthday, about a month before I had Nathan.

Nathan's first birthday

Just a typical dinner hour.

Christmas morning, not so long ago.

Watching his brothers play in the snow.

 But then one day we found ourselves not using the high chair anymore.  When we moved into the new house, it sat in the garage for a long time and we pulled it out when friends with babies came over.  We thought we would eventually have another baby.  But then instead, we had miscarriage after miscarriage.  There wasn't a reason to keep it anymore. 

We were cleaning out the garage on a Saturday and we put them in the back of the van to take to Goodwill.  I'm thankful that Graham and Asher were with me, because I might have totally lost it otherwise.  The man on the right told me he had a three-week old baby girl and might keep it himself.  That made me feel a little better.  I tried to hold back my tears.  I told him it was a really good chair.  He might have thought I was slightly crazy, especially when I asked to take a picture of it.

Then I drove away.  Asher and Graham were sad too.  We talked about how sweet all those years were.  The day went on.  We went back to cleaning out the garage, and the general chaos of the day.  

It was a good swing.  And it was a good chair.

First Day of School

 

First day of school as a 6th and 8th grader.  

It's strange to say that.  I guess it's more normal to put your five year-olds on the bus and cry because they are so little and are taking such a big step.  I thought it would be more emotional for me, sending these two to a "formal" school.  Maybe it's because they are still home quite a bit.  But I think more than that, they were ready.  I was ready.  It was time.  I think for every family it's different.  As a homeschooler, it's always been hard for me personally to read/see/hear that other homeschooling families that I respect are sending their kids to school, because then it made me doubt my decision to keep ours at home.  But I don't think that has to be the case.  For me, I was feeling in over my head.  I was feeling like it was pushing me to a place of worry and anxiety that I didn't like.  I didn't have confidence that I could get them ready for college.  In those younger grades, I did have confidence that they were getting enough, and that what they weren't getting from me, was being made up for in all the benefits of homeschool (lack of peer influence, extra time spent in creative play, and lots of hours reading).  

This parenting thing is something else.  Young moms, it doesn't feel like you think it will.  I can't believe I'm here.  I was sitting in an ACT prep meeting this summer, wanting to crawl under my chair and go back to the times of changing diapers and Matchbox cars and trips to the zoo and picnics in the park and pureeing baby food.  All of that came more naturally to me.  This stuff, this raising of human beings, it ties my stomach in knots, thinking of that day when they will actually leave our home.  Will they have what they need?  Am I making too complicated?  Am I making it too simple?

But I do know this.  There's lots to stress over.  But I KNOW God loves and cares for my boys even more than I do.  He's equipping them with what they need, aside from MY efforts.  He may be taking away what they want (or what I want for them) because it's for their own good.  And I need to learn to be okay to sit back with my cup of coffee and enjoy being a spectator in what God is doing in their lives and hearts.  It's becomes less about physically serving them, and more about being a guide and an example and a teacher.  But let me tell you, I'm better at the serving than the being.  So this is new for me.  

Maybe by the time that little one in background is a teenager I'll have this parenting thing down.  

But I doubt it ;)

Happy first year of school boys.  I love being your mom!

The Story of Us {Part Three}

In honor of our 14th anniversary today, I'm attempting to finish up our story!

(So I guess we know how the story ends… :)

So I called his house and left a message with what sounded like his mom.  It seems strange to even say that because I don't think people really do that anymore, especially young people.  We had to do awkward things back then, like leave messages with peoples' roommates and parents.  Chris says when he got the message, he thought it was his buddy, Aaron, messing with him.  He never expected me to call.  He had driven away from that Sonic with the impression that I never wanted to see him again.  

He decided to give it the benefit of the doubt and called me back.  I have a distinct memory, laying on my bedroom floor in my sleeping bag in the dark (because the room didn't have any lights and my moving truck had already left with my lamps), talking with Chris for a couple of hours.  I can't remember what we talked about, but I hung up thinking that this just might go somewhere.

The next day I moved to Minnesota.  I got a job at the University of Minnesota Children's Hospital and started my new position rather quickly.  I convinced some of my favorite people in the world to be my roommates.  We moved into an apartment complex literally in the parking lot of my church, the church that has always felt like coming home for me.  My life became the polar opposite of my life in Indianapolis.  It was full of friends, a church I loved, ministry I loved, and on any given night, my roommates and I just might break into spontaneous crafting and laughter.  AND, strangely enough I had a boy that seemed to be interested in me.  It was like I was living somebody else's life.  And it was such a refreshing change from the prior year.  

Roommates :)

Thus began our phone relationship.  We talked on the phone.  A lot.  I think I did actually own a cell phone then, but for emergencies only.  So phone talking was only when you were home (sigh, I miss those days).  We talked long into the night most nights and even in the middle of the night when I would work night shift.  He invited me to come to Texas to visit him.  It worked out that way because I could get a longer chunk of time off then he could.  He bought me a plane ticket.  I was going to Texas for five days.  It seemed like a good idea at the time we worked out the details of the ticket, but as the day came closer, I started to inwardly panic.  FIVE DAYS!  What was I thinking?  Five days was a long time, especially if the first day happened to flop… what if conversation was hard after the first couple of hours?  What would we then do for the next 4 1/2 days?  The normal girl would just be super excited, but I started doing my awkward Sarah thing and began to mega worry, not eating much, and playing out in my mind everything that could go wrong.  

So I got off the plane (I think I was wearing overalls). He greeted me at the gate.  This was pre-9/11 so people could do that.  We hugged, and it was only sort of strange.  The car ride was fine.  He cleaned up his car for me.  I remember it having that clean-car smell.  We arrived at the place where we would be staying (he lived with a family in Dallas) and I opened the door to the guest room and screamed (really, I did) with delight.  Niki and Shane were there, with baby Cole.  I was immediately at ease.  Nervousness completely gone.  Chris gets lots of points for this one.  We often talk about how those five days would have gone without Shane and Niki there.  I think this decision/idea of Chris's may have saved our relationship.  

I think this is our second picture together.  Blurry, but worth the memory.

We spent the next three days with Shane and Niki doing various fun things around Dallas.  It was wonderfully comfortable.  Having a baby to distract us a bit was nice too.  We met some of Chris's friends.  We went to the State Fair.  We ate lots and lots (and I was able to eat!… no nervous stomach). Then Shane and Niki left and we had a day and a half to ourselves.  It was great, a continuation of the fun we had been having.  I got on the plane to return home feeling peaceful.  Chris was wonderful, good-looking, smart, Godly, and somehow, he seemed to like ME???  And then I closed my eyes and fell asleep, waking up in Minnesota.

Meeting friends.  I was very nervous about gaining the approval of Corbin and TJ whom I had heard so many things about.  It helped smooth things over when Cole projectile vomited minestrone soup all over the table.

After Shane and Niki left, we went running one afternoon.

We spent an evening in downtown Fort Worth. 

The next months were much of the same.  We talked on the phone.  We wrote letters.  We flew back and forth between Texas and Minnesota multiple times.  We emailed.  We met each other's parents and friends.  We got approval from those that we both loved and respected.  We even started to use the "M" word… which is crazy, right?  To consider marrying someone that you've spent a grand total of about 12 days with?  There were decisions to be made and things to consider.

We look a little more comfortable together in this picture, yes?

For our first Christmas together, I made him a flannel blanket.  It's still my favorite napping blanket :)

To be continued… 

Part One here.

Part Two here.

The Story of Us {Part Two}

So there I was.  It was the very end of August in 1999.  I had finished up my job, packed all my stuff up in a U-Haul trailer, thrown away my favorite couch because it was just too large to take back with me, and said all my good-byes to my Indiana friends (well, that wasn't too hard because there wasn't very many of them).  I wasn't in a hurry to get back to Minnesota.  I had plenty of money saved up and it's nice to have some time off between jobs.  I remember thinking it was kind of crazy, making a spur-of-the-moment trip to Branson to meet a boy.  I wasn't the boy-crazy type, but I had done some soul searching that year and decided that if an opportunity presented itself, that I would take advantage of the situation.  I had spent too many years patiently waiting for the boys I liked to like me back.  I wanted to get married and decided it wasn't a bad thing to put myself in positions where I might meet someone.  I know that's not much of a revelation for most people, but it was for me.

(Me parting with the most comfortable couch in the entire universe before I left Indiana.  I wish I would have kept it… isn't it lovely?)

I arrived at Niki's house and we got right to meeting Chris.  I was wearing denim shorts (Chris swears they were really short shorts, but they were NOT!), a grey v-neck t-shirt, and Birkenstock brown leather sandals.  I wanted to look cute, but definitely not like I cared too much.  We met in a soccer field on Kanakuk Kamp's property.  Niki came with baby Cole and we talked for a few minutes on the hill.  Small talk.  I remember he asked me the same question twice.  I thought he was nervous, but now I know he just does that.  I was slightly nervous, but Chris has a way of putting you at ease.

That weekend was a bit of a blur.  He was saying good-bye to people he had lived and shared life with for the last year.  I was in the way for all practical purposes, but he made me feel at ease.  He asked me out to the Friendship House for lunch, which is a restaurant run by the students at College of the Ozarks.  I had a hamburger and fries.  He had chili.  We went running together once.  I thought we had great conversation on both occasions.  If you know Chris, you know he just might be the easiest person to talk to in the whole world.  He can make anyone feel comfortable.  So for the first time, maybe ever, I was comfortable around a boy.

(Chris with his mentor couples in Branson, the ones who were making fun of us)

Shane and Niki, where are you in this picture?

(Our first photo together:  Notice the awkward arm position… arm around me, but not touching me).

The culmination of the weekend was at our friend's house the last night I was there.  We were there with several married couples.  They were trying to get us together… with no tact at all.  Leaving us in the room together on purpose, dimming the lights while we were talking, lighting candles.  The funny thing is that it really wasn't awkward.  We just laughed about it, and continued in our conversation.

The whole weekend, except for the jog and the lunch at the Friendship House, was spent with our friends.  We didn't spend much time alone.  There was no defining talk to close the deal.  When Chris was driving away toward Dallas, we met him at Sonic to see him off.  He had his stuff packed in the car.  He did ask for my information just before he left.  I got out my checkbook, tore out my deposit slip (which anyone knows has your current information on it), and then turned it over to the back and wrote my parent's address and phone number.  Neither one of us had a cell phone at this time.  I was just covering my bases.  He could decide to write or call soon when I was still in Indiana… or later when I was in Minnesota.  He, on the other hand, didn't figure in the fact that my current information was on the front side of the slip and thought that I didn't want him to call me for at least a couple weeks, until I was back in Minnesota.  Oops.

(Me with baby Cole at Sonic saying good-bye to Chris)

So he drove away thinking that I was a cool girl, but that he'd never see me again.  I wasn't sure what he would do.  I had a long history of lots of first dates, lots of guys who were initially interested but then never called again.  I thought it went well.  But maybe he was just being friendly all weekend.  My emotions weren't in this thing yet.  But I definitely wanted to hear from him again.

I don't recall much about the drive home.  But I do recall when I got back to Indiana, and I was debriefing with my friend, Niki, about the weekend, that I decided that I was going to call him.  When I thought back on the weekend, I recalled that I had done a majority of the talking.  He was so good at asking questions and getting to know me, that I didn't know as much about him.  Also, he was SO friendly, sweet, kind, and considerate.  I knew about myself that I can have the tendency to NOT come across that way.  Lots of people have told me that they didn't like me when they first met me… they thought I was unfriendly, snobby, etc.  I thought it was a good excuse to call him.  To apologize if I might have come across as cold or uninterested.  And what did I have to lose really?  He was all the way in Texas.  And I was on my way to Minnesota.  We were a thousand miles apart.

And so I did it.  I called him first.

To be continued…

You can read part one of The Story of Us here.

The Story of Us

Our first picture taken together

Over the years, I have loved reading the love stories of various bloggers via Danielle Burkleo's blog.  I love the idea of writing these details down, for Chris and me to enjoy, but especially for our boys, who LOVE to hear the story of how Mommy and Daddy fell in love.

So here we go!  Let's start out by backing up a decade and a half.

One of my New Year's resolutions (back when I used to make them) for 1999 was to dress more like a girl.  I know, it's deep of me to have such high aspirations.  But my whole life I prided myself in the fact that I didn't care about my appearance, or any of the other "superficial" things of this world.  I was bound for missionary work and would not be distracted.  While that point of view has some merits, it did, for me, carry with it a certain amount of spiritual arrogance.  And in the meantime, I was getting a little older and getting a bit wiser.  I had just turned 24 and there was not a romantic prospect in sight.  My friends were getting married, one by one.  I was the forever bridesmaid.  After college, I went to nursing school (all women) and then worked at a hospital (also all women).  Kids, this was before the day of internet dating services like eharmony.  We were left to our very own selves to meet our mates.  In my great 24 year old wisdom, I decided looking somewhat feminine might help.  So I kissed my baggy flannels and sweat pants good-bye (that look was not in fashion at the time).  I also decided to get serious about fitness.  I started training for a half marathon.  I'd never run more than a mile in my whole life.  But I was in a new city with nothing but time in my hands.  Running would prove to be good therapy for my loneliness.

What does all of this have to do with meeting Chris? 

  

Let me back up a little.  In the fall of 1998, I had just graduated from nursing school, and was dying to start a new life away from the ever-familiar Minneapolis.  My friend from college, Erin, lived in Indianapolis, and wanted to get an apartment with me.  I secured my first real job, with a real paycheck, at Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis.  I leased a brand new silver Corolla, with all the bells and whistles, including a moon roof, and I drove out of my parent's driveway listening to Wide Open Spaces by the Dixie Chicks with that moon roof open.  I was off on my great adventure.  

I distinctly remember getting there and walking in my empty apartment.  It was not as nice as I remembered.  It was closer to the highway than the one they had showed us and the traffic seemed deafening.  I sat down, put my hands to my head and wondered what in world was I thinking.  I had nothing there.  But I'm a pick yourself up by your bootstraps girl.  I was determined to make it work.

My new job had it's ups and downs.  It was wonderful experience for a new graduate.  I was thrown into lots of things... trachs, dressing changes in private parts I had never even seen before, IV's, patients who were dying, sadness of the sick.  I worked night shift.  I loved my co-workers... they soon became my closest friends in Indianapolis.  These women were in all different ages and places in their life, but when you stay up all night together, a certain bond is created.

Despite my determination, I soon realized I wasn't as independent as I thought I was.  Everything was hard when you have no connections.  My good friend from college, Holly, and her husband, Scott, were starting a Christian youth camp in Vermont.  They asked me to be the nurse there for the summer.  Perfect!  This was right up my alley.  God had provided the perfect out, without having to go home with my tail between my legs.  I just had to make it until May.  Well, sometime late winter, Scott and Holly realized that camp was probably not going to happen that summer.  They were having unexpected delays with permits and such.  So I decided to finish my year in Indy.  I had just met a new group of friends that were promising, and surely I could make it until September.  And it would look better on my resume if I stayed in my job a full year.  So that summer, I worked, played, ran, and met Mark Hamill (Luke Skywalker) at the grocery store.  That last fact doesn't really have anything to do with our story, but I just had to throw it in.

This picture is for all of you Star Wars fans out there.  And just for clarification, when you hear that Mark Hamill is at your local grocery store signing autographs, you hop in the car and go meet him.  It doesn't matter if you're in the middle of highlighting your hair.

During that year, my closest friend from college, Niki, was living in Branson where she and her husband were working at a ministry called Doulos, a home for troubled teens.  She had her first baby that year and was staying home with him.  She was my "go to" person when I had a stretch of time off at work.  I would drive 8 hours to Branson.  We would hang out, watch movies, eat junk food, hold cute baby Cole... actually I don't remember what we did.  But it was fun.

Notice the plaid, and the hamburger pajama pants...

… and more plaid.

So at the end of August in 1999 (soon after my New Year's resolution), I get a call from Niki.  She asked me to come down to Branson one last time before I left Indianapolis.  She wanted to set me up with Chris.  Do I remember meeting Chris?  Well, he had come over to her house the day before, and was open to a blind date, but he was leaving Branson to return to Dallas in a week, so I had to come quickly.  I remembered meeting him, but I didn't give him much of a thought.  He seemed to be exactly the kind of guy who would not be interested in me.  He was from Texas.  He was in a super cool fraternity in college.  He drove a little red sports car.  He was a lawyer.  He was handsome.  He was winsome.  I know when someone is out of my league. 

But now it seemed he was interested in being set up on a blind date with me?  So I did what any girl would do.  I packed all my cutest clothes (leaving my hamburger pants and flannels behind) and hopped in the car to meet him.

More to come… :)

Waiting for Santa

I stood in the long line of parents waiting to see Santa.  Some were holding their first baby with their sweet "My First Christmas" outfit.  Some had come from watching a Christmas show at the local theater.  Many were dressed in their Christmas best.  Some, like us, were just out with their families on a Saturday in December.  The line didn't seem terribly long, but it was moving incredibly slow.  Like really slow.  I like a friendly Santa, but I was wishing he would move the kids along a bit so that we could get on with our day.  The older boys lost interest in about ten minutes and Chris took them to read books at Barnes and Noble.  But Nathan and Jopie were so excited to see Santa.  And these two, sure they're still little, but they may be over Santa by next year.  This may be the last time they want to do this.  So I stood in line with a slightly different perspective, soaking in these "lasts" with my boys.  We stood in line for over an hour, and I thought about how we had come to this exact spot right after Joseph was born.  At that time, it seemed my kids would be little for all of eternity.  Now, seven years later, it seems to be passing through my fingers.  Bittersweet is the best word to describe this passing of time.  One of my goals for the New Year, which I may eventually get to blogging about, is to embrace this season in my life… to not dwell too much on the past or do too much wondering about the future.  There are many things that robbed my joy during those little years, and I don't want to miss this season of life with my boys because life isn't the exact way I want it to be.  This is the life that God has so graciously given me.  Thankfulness should be bubbling up out of me, not self-pity, and some of the other things that often come out of my mouth.

Back to Santa.

  Nathan knew exactly what he wanted:  Chima Legos and a bow and arrow.  Joseph had an hour think about it and still couldn't decide by the time he got up there.  That's just Jopie, happy with whatever he gets.

I'm glad I waited in that long, boring line.  I'm glad to have these pictures of my boys being little, even if it is passing, I will choose to enjoy it to fullest.

This is the day that the Lord has made.  Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

I know I'm biased, but you have to admit that all of those pictures are pretty adorable ;)