maybe my grass is green

hoping is so dangerous. it puts me out there. i don't like to be out there unless things are secure and good. in a recent sermon our pastor said, " the power of hope is that what is true about your soul cannot be lost, it is already well."  my soul is well. things have been won on my behalf.

how do i live that? how do i live that now in the midst of what i feel is this resistance to rest and the urge to wind up that in fact this isn't the life i asked for, hello. how can i transport? i have found myself recently thinking deeply about what life could have been like if... sweetly and gracefully God reminds me through a dear time with a friend, that there isn't this other magical side. at least not now. this part is the journey, the end is already won, and on this side, each home has beauty and each home has hardship. my fantasty of what if may meet one longing but another would arise. is this our nature? dangit, can't we be simpler? while half the world probably hopes that those closest to them find passion and purpose, i hope for stability and provision. there are losses even in stability but i dont recognize them because they are so green to me right now.

hannah is one of the lovliest little girls i ever knew, cleary I couldn't be more biased, but i adore her so. she is thoughtful and sweet. she is wanting to learn so badly and wanting quality time so badly. i worry she is losing the most in all of this because i am hoping so hard for a life that may serve her no better. and she is actually quite happy in this one, she just wants attention at the end of the day and her mind is curious of what's next and what's out there. we prepped her last night that we were leaving for a short trip for seattle, and after some confusion and sadness, she yells through the wall once the door is closed, "have fun mom". and my heart sank, thank you Hannah. then she yelled my name once more and when i peeped in her room, she asked if i could lay down beside her. of course. i need to pack, shower and sleep, and you are supposed to get yourself to sleep, but that is all hogwash, of course, i can. so i snuggle in beside her in the tiny twin bed that was once my dad's, and as i wrap my arm around her waist, she slowly moves her hand right on top of mine. its all we needed, a little time to rest together and hold hands.

afterwards i go back to my room and i think, it is well, it can be simpler. little victories everyday. so here we are, in seattle, night before huge interviews. scared as crud, not sure what to hope or not but gonna wake up, sure of whose we are and who we are and heading in to what is before us..

happy? new year. Creo que si.

as soon as we got in the packed up gift filled car leaving each of our families, we debated walking back in and staying longer. it was that good of a time for us. halleujah. the thing is i felt the most apprehension about this holiday and i came face to my face with how desperately i need holidays and they probably become bigger than they should. which leads me to my dramatic feelings today of BUMBED OUT SAD and UNMOTiVATED. anywho, back to the good part first.

family time was very simple and very sweet. the two hardest things to stomach were not having Amy, Aaron and Sadie, my first holiday season without my sis in my life i think, and just how i felt there was so little about our life in the last year that i wanted to talk about. since the last big colorful gatherings at christmas time last year others had made the proverbial progress in jobs, pregnancy and childbirth, adventure, new homes, and our change in dear 2011 basically sucked. and that's okay, but i had to beg God for the right spirit to just BE this season. and magically, it worked, or maybe less magically and more mercifully, generously, God showed up as faithful as always and brought a bunch of really great memories for this season of anticipation.

and today we came home. it's new years. and i can't shake myself. its one of those days where i feel remotely nuerotic for how deeply i am feeling. or maybe nuerotic for how all over the place my feelings are today. i want 2012 to come, that's the thing. i want a new marker, i want a do over, i want to quit writing 11 on the end of dates, i want new ideas, new clothes, new conversations, new memories, new starts, blah blah blah. i want new.

BUT, capital B. i am a bit afraid of new. sometimes when you expect so very little its easier to relish in the sweet simple times. and now i feel myself strapping in my hopes, putting a seatbelt on my fears, and trying frantically to shut the door in my head for thoughts wanting to show up again that are ultimately good, but ask me to long or reflect. i feel myself saying WAIT, NO... we are DISCONTENT and SURVinNG... dont rock that boat, we have finally figured out how to steer it (not really), but hold up should i actually be starting a new year saying... OKAY GOD.. what?, where?, how? and most significantly WHEN?... and BRING it. Can i possibly refresh my mind?.. get a mulligan on the last year and start this one positive, hopeful, longing and more connected to myself, my daughter, my husband, my fam my community and my God.

what i feel sure of is i want to get out of myself a bit. i am indeed hoping for a bigger picture of life that allows me to relish more often in the sweets. The days and days of thinking of our dear friends the Kelly's helps this, its one of those reminders that life is now, life is way bigger than our row of circumstances and things get rewritten not always to our liking. i want to respond bigger. i want to respond this year more thoughtfully (oh my did i say that last year?) i want to double check what i think and know know to be true and try again to live more fully out of that. i gotta get out of the weeds. i gotta get new. Mercies new every morning Hallejuah, i'll try again.

Happy New Year. Bienviendo 2012.

(ps. fun christmas pics posted tomorrow once i can download them)

heartache in a new form, one we werent ready to know.

PK is most famous to me because he introduced me to the love of my life, PH. Patrick and I interned together in DC our junior years in college. He was curious and bright and wiling to ask really great questions during our time. Many many memories flood my mind but a few of my favorite are their pre graduation night at JMU and Patrick's absolutely stunning wedding day and a snowy day in Charlotte where we took the girls to christmas show.

there is nothing that helps me to understand Julie's last blog post, it's not supposed to be this way. nevermind that he is only 34 yrs. old and just a few months ago he was okay but also that it's Christmas and forever the memories for those in his family will be about these long hard days at NIH.

what encourages my heart to no end is seeing the way folks rally around them all over facebook, all over her blog, by signing up for his prayer vigil for 2 days and filling all the slots, by flooding the hospital and wanting to be close to him one last time. my mind isn't all that clear this morning but for those who visited her blog, you may want to read last night's post and update.http://getwellpk.blogspot.com/

PH always says that Patrick was the brother he never had. He lived with him all four years at JMU and after in DC before we got married. They could bicker, compete, laugh and have the deepest conversations, but there bond was really special.

Pray for PK

i feel so helpless right now because our dear dear friend is very ill and i don't know what to do. i keep picturing all these prayers like notecards flying in the air going up to God on his behalf and stacking up in hopes for a miracle. so i am just spreading the word for any and all willing to pray for him. Ph is on his way up to DC today to be with him at NIH. 

Many of you who are close to us know Patrick and Julie, so I thought i would share their blog and you can get the full update. Be prepared, it is hard stuff to read, i hardly go a sentence dry eyed. http://getwellpk.blogspot.com/

Ya'll know i sing in my head all the time, so today i am singing.. "My hope is in you Lord, my strength is in you Lord, my life is in you Lord", I know PK believes that. Please heal our friend. 

Christmas shopping queen

Hannah's conciousness of all thing Christmas has really increased this year, thereby sobering us up that we need to be making sure we are sharing the messages we want her to remember about this fabulous season. one is the privelege and joy of giving. So, we took her shopping for her cousins and told her to pick some things out. she loved it. and she absolutely cracked me up. 

hope the video brings some Christmas cheer and laughter especially on the bra scene....

Hope produces movement

i have been waiting to live. no doubt about it. which doesn mean at all that life has been inactive or complacent, its just that as hard as I try to settle my heart in the now, i find myself utterly human. utterly desirious of the life i had planned. totall sure that if this, then peace, then love, then we can move on in our life.

a few weeks ago i heard someone say, keep the simplicity of what makes life beautiful, loving God and loving others. and as unsure as i am that either of those are particularly simple, i think about moments of joy and rest over the last year and they are always connected to feeling i am in relationship with a known God and at peace and living into the lives of those around me.

is it possible to be highly hopeful and highly realistic all at the same time? this is what i wonder because i decided somewhere in the last year to turn the hope off, which wasn't hard, and live in reality. put the petal to the metal, dive in, endure, muscle through, which is easier for me. and some of that i think is good. we must endure, we must push through and live in reality. but something scary begins to happen when days and weeks and then a month goes by and you realize how much your head has been down and you have gotten used to not believing things will ever change. 

for example, i literally do not allow myself to think of adoption. i do not have the capacity to hope again for Hannah's sibling, its far far too painful. there is no money to adopt anymore and there is no agency i can imagine that want to offer a child to a household with an unemployed male. so i shove this insanely deep longing of my heart off and i have gotten used to not hoping to grow our family. someone actually spoke last night and said, "oh, that's an only child thing" and i felt my body convulse a little bit. and then i move on. but for split second i can't help to think of what recieving that would have been like if my heart was full of hope and my mind was at peace that i believe in a loving, gracious God who wants to give us the desires of our hearts. Just His timing may not be our own.

Anyway, it all gives me this sense that i must must quit waiting to hope. waiting to live, because hope in and of itself produces movement. hope feels raw and foolish sometimes, sure. and i have a LONG way to go to holding this daily but i think i want to. i want the movement of a different kind, the movement that presses into God, presses into His truth, presses into faith.. .not into me. not into muscling onward.

once upon a time

"once upon a time there were three princesses. Jasmine, Cinderella. and Cinderalla wore a pink shirt and pink skirt with pink shoes. and she went looking for the prince but she couldn't find him. and then she went out for a walk and a big storm came and then Jesus came and he parted the waters and (with her hands out in front of her wide open), Jesus said, "be still, do not be afraid. and then he calmed the water". and they all lived happily ever after."

I kid you not this is a regular regular story Hannah tells me each evening as we are now entering a phase where she wants to tell stories instead of sing at night. This one occurs just about every night and just about in those words and in that order. and if you are wondering if had typos or missed a sentence I did not. i grin so big everynight when she tells stories.

what's even better is that she wants me to tell her a story. and i always imagine that her dad gives her unbelievable stories so with the pressure i on,i dive in. and i suprise myself, they are good, creative and she loves them. one small issue may be a recurrent theme of serious female heroines. I only noticed my strong sway in this direction when i told one blantant dont give up you are never too small story the other night and she cut me off before i was done and said, night night momma.

i really love these story times. i love her imagination. i even love that her stories always involve pink and Jesus. and about 10 minutes after we leave the room each night right now, we are called back in and she says..."there are no storms, and no kings (?), and no animals (and tonight skeletons, thank you Halloween) outside that window?" and everynight, we say, no baby, you are safe and sound, surrounded by angels, sleep tight.

unexpected first

My first first class experience. I wish Stephen were here so bad, I can’t stand having this without him. The crazy thing about flying is for one minute I feel invincible like I can go anywhere, do anything, and I am so full of anticipation and curiosity. I am always curious about half the people on the plane, where they are going, where they came from, why they get to sit in first class, what will I see out the window, how many pools can I find?

At the same time my adrenaline rushed adventure I feel the turbulence of the plane, I hear the whistle of the engine and I begin to think my life might end. I think of all the scenarios and I hope like heck the pilot can find water to land on so I may have some chance to survive. I immediately have rushing thoughts of what I wish I had done and I picture Stephen and Hannah alone. Its awful and morbid I know, but its what we all do right?

I never leave Hannah without capturing our last words and looks in my mind. Today, I made sure we sang “ you are my sunshine” before I left, she sings along now. And I never leave Stephen without saying I love you. Because I am a freak or I’m prepared, whatever you make of it. And every time I leave I realize I don’t look at their faces often enough. Like just look without distraction or mission. If I think about it I may cry they are both so handsome/beautiful to me I can barely take it. But we are so caught up, so I love the little things. I miss the adventure of plane rides that were leading to something besides work. I realize how much I have a love/hate relationship with travel. I’m pretty sure I could make it were I to fly first class more often… more people like Maryanne at the US Air counter, that’s what I need.  Anyway, today I add these things to my gratitude list:

1.     random, unexpected, unwarranted acts of kindness – like maryann, giving me a first class seat for no good reason.

2.     Lover’s goodbye kiss that erases the chaos and sends a message that life together, even messy, is better

3.     Shower dancing with Hannah as she wants to take a shower with me if it means 5 more minutes together before more work.  Its unorganized and often hygienically unnecessary and we do it anyway.

4.     For days out of rhythm where I may do and see new things. 

live into it

there is space for me. not in the version of time, stillness or room, but space like place. like i am aware of my space in the world around me right now. what i have to offer and conversely what i don't have to offer. and everyday i am more peaceful with my space things seem to look more lovely and fall easy.

because what wears me is wanting someone else's space, wanting my space to be different, resisting my space, or living for my next space. here and now in my less contemplative and more operative days i just know me better and feel less resistant to her. i feel more concious of what is and isn't a choice right now and there is actually peace in the limitations. who knew?

my space is Charlotte. Wilmore. UNC Charlotte. Work. a Community Affairs team. Gary, my volvo. my long outdated ipod selection of music. Stephen. Hannah. my family the Osters and my family the Wilsons. meat, veggies, fruit, coffee and wine = the diet that works for my body. running.my space is learning how to parent. establishing values and priorities as a parent and hoping like heck to live them out. yoga. ruthies. grub club. deep friends who already know. women. advocacy. unemployed spouse. no sewing or craft abilities. worst preschool mom out there.

and tomorrow these things may change but i can do tomorrow and i can do change if i can do today more peacefully. im afraid of less and more afraid of doing less. im so ready to be out of my head and more out in the world, offering more honestly, regreting less frequently, thinking more fully. i have space and by God's mercy I'll live in it.

my 2.9 yr. old

everytime I think I will always remember a story or a first about her, i realize two weeks later than i can't recall exactly what i was smiling so big about the week before. its bizarre actually how difficult the moments that seem to take my breath away are hard to remember a week later. oh well. i'll do the best i can in a brief update on hannah mia (this is what we call her for Hannah Amelia) because i absolutely cannot believe we are T-8 from my baby being 3. 

here is what i see: she observes like her daddy. she's curious. she relates like her momma. she doesn't want to be on the sideline and she LOVES time with friends. she tells me things like, "i like riley, bo and smith all day." and "Hannah Beth is my favorite, i love her." she is all about the party, the camp, pre-school & sunday school, playground dates, etc., she seems to really enjoy other kids and take her time watching them just enough to learn them a bit. she rides a bike, a tricycle, and a scooter with the coordination i didn't know was possible at 3. she wants approval, already, but is still independent enough to chose timing. she's thoughtful in ways that always surpise me, how she double checks on me sometimes or wants to give my head a kiss if i have a headache or worries about others who seems sad. her concious is big, she does not like to be corrected and typically responds with frustration and if i were to say, "Hannah you are okay, we can do this", she says things like, "i don't want to be okay. I need space." to which i crack up. i love that she tells me she doesn't want to be okay, and I can relate sometimes.

here is what i know: the girl loves curious george. she loves pink (how, why, okay). she loves her monkey, still. her favorite thing continues to be shoes. flip flops and high heels at the top of the list. sparkly at the top of the list. she loves edamame and ladypops (this is what she calls lollipops). she loves the feeling of her hair long on her back and shakes her head from side to side. she'd wear tutu's and high heels everyday if we put that out there as a legitamate option. she memorizes books, i had no idea until suddenly she was telling me page after page, and even making the side comments i might make about something being silly or whatnot. she really likes dates where we get to eat at the store or resturaunt, even just the two of us. she decided to start pee-peeing on the potty about a month ago, the entire motivation being the opportunity to wear princess panties. she is still very picky about which panties she will wear, they basically need to be pink or have a princess on them (oh my), but her smile when pee pee in the potty is the cutest most proud thing i have ever seen. and she loves classical music. it is fascinating actually the way it exands her imagination and calms her, she creates stories with the music and says things like "more trumpets, more trumpets" and "here comes the prince." (double oh my)

when she wants to rest with me or put her hand or head next to me, i just feel i can't make it i don't want that second to end she is just the dearest most lovely girl i ever knew. i am so so very thankful to know her and to watch her, and scared to death to train her and bring her up well and safely. so this is my reminder to myself of what i remember today about my 2.9 year old that i wish i could never forget.