Its all about PERSPECTIVE

As any parent knows, no two are alike. Mommas and Daddys, that is. Mommas and Daddys differ in how they interact with their kids, talk with their kids, play with their kids, and (as most Mommas will admit) dress their kids. I haven't met a Momma yet who doesn't have a great and funny story of the one time she forgot to lay out clothes for the kiddos and Daddy had to get the job done. I'm not bashing here. Some of my best memories entail the times when Daddy has been in charge and rolling solo. 

Afterall, Daddy's always in charge around here.

Its just that he usually has a pretty good co-pilot along for the ride.

Anyways, as the saying so aptly says, it all works out in the wash. My husband does an amazing job with our kids. As I've said MANY times, he is the biggest and best blessing of my life and to that of our kids! He's totally a hands-on type of Daddy. And for that I am more than thankful. But as I said on the onset, we're different. That's a good thing. An even better thing is knowing our varying strengths and weaknesses so we can help each other out.

Which we do.

Everyday.

I'm here to say my strength and Daddy's weakness is hair and clothing options.

Just keeping it real, okay?

But I'll let the pictures do the talking...

This is how Ava looks when Momma's at work:

This is how Ava looks when Momma's at home:

Momma at work.

Momma home.

Totally understandable once you see who's in charge when Momma's at work.

Cute as a button--and has the best Daddy--no matter how you look at it.

SERIOUS. Baby. Blues.

Smile

Because it's the wee morning hours of Tuesday. And because I can't sleep. And because I have yet to post all of our holiday pictures. And because I know that you need a smile today:

See. I told you.

January 13

I have been dreading today since before Christmas.

Today is an anniversary.

And being perfectly honest, it is not one that I enjoy or look forward to celebrating. Try as I may to forget about it or ignore it, I still find myself crying twenty four years later. I still get angry. I still have moments where I ask God why, what if, how about, and everything in between. I still have moments of such immense sadness. Sadness so strong and dark, that I wonder if it will ever truly go away.

I recall that day twenty-four years ago in a snap. Funny thing is, I can remember our school secretary paging me overhead to go to my grandma's house after school and every detail following. But I can't remember anything else previous to that on that particular day.

That's when life as I knew it ended.

And my new life began.

When people go through a traumatic event in their life, one that alters or robs their way of living life--be it fighting cancer, death of a loved one, miscarriage, divorce, etc.,--I have learned that there comes about a new normal. Life never returns to what it was. No matter how much one wishes that it may. You are a different person whether you realize it at the time or not. But eventually you will.

As often as I try to not dwell on the what-ifs, to appreciate all the blessings that have come from the devastation, to be thankful for all the lessons learned, I can't escape the indescribable pain every year on January 13th.

Even sadder still is knowing that I'm not alone in this.

That morning in 1986 when my dad's Volkswagon Rabbit hit black ice and crossed the highway into opposing traffic changed the lives of so many that I can't even begin to describe it. Not just "A" family, but many families--more honestly, an entire community was affected. It was truly devastating in every sense of the word.

There was just So. Much. Loss. To say anything differently would be ignoring the elephant in the room. And while my dad is still alive and a very central person in my life and that of our kids, its all new. Well, twenty-four years new. And its that newness that I grieve. The loss of all things familiar and home to a seven-year-old, self-proclaimed Daddy's girl that I grieve.

I sit and think of all those affected and how sorry I am for their loss. I think of how I thought about it then and how I think about it now. How much my perspective has changed now that I'm a wife and a mom and an adult.

So to Mom, Shelli, Gram Jean, Aunt Jan, and Uncle Tim:  I'm so very sorry for the immense loss you experienced that day. I truly can't wrap my mind around it and fall apart every time I go there in your shoes.

To Weebs, Ang, Andy, and Timbo: I'm so sorry for the immense loss you have experienced because of that day. The loss in not knowing my Dad as he was, the loss of family to varying degrees, the loss of a stable and/or normal childhood.  I fall apart every time I go there in your shoes.

To Hannah, Elle, Leighton, Maddie, Brayden, Savannah, Sophia, and Ava Grace: Again, I'm so sorry for the immense loss you have experienced because of that day. You don't even know the beginning of what you missed out on...and that grieves my heart like I cannot even explain.

But I don't want you thinking that I only dwell on the loss. As immense and intense as it was, and still is, for me, there is also so much for which I can rejoice.

As David so aptly wrote, "Though the sorrow may last for the night, the joy comes in the morning."

I have had twenty-four years to think on this. And anyone who knows me, knows that I am a thinker. I love to analyze every angle, ponder the meanings be they at the surface or much deeper, thoroughly work through each choice. I like to think about issues through the eyes and emotions of others and how they deal or would deal or have dealt with it. I like to compare it to how I handled or would handle it or how I can learn from them the next time something similar arises.

Got it? I like to think...about thinking.

I digress.

I have come to one conclusion. I would not change one thing about January 13, 1986.

Not. One. Thing.

Despite the immense and intense feelings of pain, fear, abandonment, loss, grief, anger, etc., I have learned so much more about love, forgiveness, strength, growth, and peace. But most importantly I have learned about God, about His ways. His plans despite my feeling lost, His never-failing love in the midst of my despair, His abounding grace in the midst of my sins, His stillness in the midst of my storm, His strength being made perfect in my weakness,  His peace in the midst of my battle, His face lighting the way through my dark tunnel, His arms carrying me when I can't take another step, and ultimately His only Son hanging on the cross meant for me.

I truly mean this. There have been so many times when I have broken down and cried out, "WHY?!?!?! Why God?!" And immediately the Holy Spirit answers with images and thoughts of how my life is here at this moment because of that day. How much I would have missed out on. People I may never have known. Empathy I never would have had. Gratitude I may never have learned. Simple moments I may have taken for granted. Considering paths in other people's shoes instead of only my own. I have reached a point where I can simultaneously cry tears of grief and joy. While I weep over the loss of something, I rejoice for the renewal of another. It is because of that day that I can so clearly see the hand of God working in my life...from 1986 until today in 2010.

And that is something I CAN celebrate.

And we know that all things work together for

good to them that love God, to them who are called according to His purposes.

Romans 8:28

Midwinternight's Dream

As I sit inside our home looking out over the snow and ice encased ground, I long for this:

Now don't get me wrong here. Some of the most amazing sunrises, sunsets, and star-gazing occurs (in my opinion) in the winter. God's creation still speaks to me in amazing ways despite the snow and bitter, bone-chilling cold.

But my admiration usually occurs from the INSIDE looking out.

 So there's something about this that makes my soul ache:

Running through the grass in our bare feet. Definately NOT something we can do right now. Unless getting frostbite is your goal. Then by all means, knock yourself out.

I won't stand in your way.

And then I come across photos like these and that dull ache becomes a loud roar:

Hanging out on our fence. These photos capture the fun and joy and warmth of summer in a nutshell for me. I want to be out by that fence in my bare feet. Checking on the grapes and veggies in my bare feet. Chasing the kids in my bare feet. Playing with our dog in my bare feet. Hanging clothes out on the line--you guessed it--in my bare feet!

But since that is not an option for quite a FEW more months, I will sit here with socks and slippers and other multiple layers...longing to be in my bare feet. 

And, yes, I just may in the mean time digress to this:

SPRING, if you can hear me, COME QUICKLY!!

Please?!

3 months

Can NOT believe this sweet, little girl is 3 months old.

Ava Grace, I can NOT imagine our lives without you!