That one time when I cried in our Primary class

Today is one year since we held the funeral for my dad. I wasn't going to take note of today, since we set aside last Monday to be sad (the anniversary of my dad's death), but while teaching our Primary class about the resurrection, I became unexpectedly emotional. My initial instinct was to cover up, hold it together, and push forward. But I decided instead to be honest and vulnerable with my little six-year-olds and hope that they responded well. They did, bless their hearts, and as a bonus, I only had one of them consequently share a "My grandma died" story.

I started crying while telling the class about Jesus' friends who took his body and prepared it for burial. It was as I explained to the kids that I was crying because this story is special to me and close to my heart that I realized what today was: A year since we buried my dad. A year since I helped dress his body in preparation. A year since I had reason to know, really and truly know, that death is not the end and I will see my dad again. All because of Christ's resurrection, the very story I was trying to tell them. 

When I made that split-second decision to be vulnerable with my CTR 5 class, I hadn't really understood why my emotions were suddenly at the surface but as I shared with them, it came clear to me. I'm not great at choosing vulnerability over staying at a comfortable distance, but I am so grateful I took that chance today and learned more about myself as a result. And I'm so grateful for the beautiful little souls sitting around me who listened and got very serious when I was crying (instead of joking, getting loud, or trying to distract). As hard as it is to keep them corralled for any amount of time, they really are such great kids. 

I wanted to do something to mark what this time of year means to me and my family, but I don't have any new words to describe it. So instead, I'm posting my talk that I gave at the funeral. It was such a small tribute to a person who influenced me and loved me so much, but I was and am very glad that I can share it.

One of the things I think of first when I think of my dad is his playfulness, especially while growing up. He knew how to play, how to be silly, how to gently tease. Whether it was calling each other silly names like “cheese head” and “green dirt nose” (I was six), chasing him down as he tried to leave for work shouting “Wait, you forgot something – me!”, or having an indoor water fight that my dad initiated, I always knew that I could be playful with him. My cousin Anna remembers a time he was watching all the cousins while the rest of the aunts and uncles were out; when they started to return, he had all the kids lie down and pretend to be asleep and “trick” the rest of the parents. His sense of humor was sometimes subtle, but it was there, and it carried him and us through many times, both good and bad.

Another thing I learned from my dad was the joy of giving and receiving meaningful gifts. He loved to make his kids happy through giving small, thoughtful gifts. Sometimes they came in the form of grocery money (or groceries themselves); sometimes it was a memento of a special time together; often it was unexpected, making the gift even sweeter. A few days before I got married, my dad took me on a daddy-daughter date to get me away from all the stress and planning. I’m sure it wouldn’t have been his first choice to listen to the Young Ambassadors perform at an outdoor concert, but he knew I’d enjoy it and so that’s what we did. It was the perfect escape from that crazy week and an incredible gift to his busy daughter. When my cousin Chrissy got married last year, my mom and Rachel and I bought something off of her registry for the bridal shower (I think we got towels or bath mats?). My dad, however, sent us to the shower with two original works of art that had hung in our home for many years and that were created by Chrissy’s mom, my Aunt Robin. He was always thoughtful, always mindful, always generous in his giving.

One of the most lasting lessons from my dad that I carry with me, often unconsciously, is to be open to what might seem unusual, offbeat, or out of the ordinary. We grew up eating hot dogs and hamburgers, but we also ate tofu and couscous. I learned to play Mozart, Beethoven, and Chopin on the piano, but I also learned to play Three Gymnopedies by French composer Erik Satie. My parents went to Europe and visited the famous Christmas shops. They bought home a beautiful glass ornament, not in the shape of a star or angel or tin soldier, but an operatically large mermaid. More than that, my dad encouraged us to seek out and recognize all that is good in other cultures, beliefs, and traditions. Two small examples: for several years we went to the Cathedral of the Madeline in Salt Lake for their annual Christmas concert; my dad studied both the King James Version of the Bible as well as the New International Version. And it wasn’t just being open to these different things and ideas; it was finding beauty and humor, and truly valuing what they had to offer. I love this lesson, and I love that it has (hopefully) made me a more open, understanding person.

I have learned so much from my dad about appreciating art, listening to all kinds of music, and loving the craft of words, but the last thing I want to share is that I have learned from my father’s example that it is okay to struggle, to question, to not have all the answers. There was a time when my dad really fought to understand the whys and why nots of his diagnosis. He did not accept pre-packaged answers and he searched deeply for understanding and peace. Knowing that he was in that place was a little scary and unsettling to me especially while I was not ready to face my own fears and doubts. I struggled with the fact that I was struggling. It scared me, so I tried to ignore it. I had never before questioned God’s plan for me or my family, never before doubted that He heard and answered our prayers, until cancer was introduced into our story and wouldn’t go away in spite of blessings and prayers and fasting. When I was ready to face my struggles, it helped me to know that my dad was ahead of me on that journey and that he had found a path to peace. I have since made progress on my own path to finding peace and love and understanding. Over the last seven years, I have learned that doubt is not our enemy when it pushes faith to be stronger, and I honor the periods of doubting, faltering, and questioning that brought my dad peace and that have brought me peace.

I sang in choirs for many years and I have found so many songs in the last week that have brought me comfort. This is one of those songs:

And let this feeble body fail and let it faint or die,

My soul shall quit this mournful vale and soar to worlds on high.

O what are all my sufferings here if Lord, thou count me meet

With that enraptured host to appear and worship at thy feet?

Give joy or grief, give ease or pain, take life or friends away

But let me find them all again in that eternal day.

And I’ll sing hallelujah and you’ll sing hallelujah

And we’ll all sing hallelujah when we arrive at home.

There is no doubt in my mind that I will sing Hallelujah with my dad and that we will all sing it together one day. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Celebrating 2 years of Georgie

Our Georgie Girl turned 2 (last month, but I didn't get this out then, so I'm publishing it now, so just pretend like it's September again) and oh, what a sweet girl she is. 

She talks. All day long. She listens, remembers, repeats, invents, associates, and surprises me everyday. 

She moves. She runs, jumps, dances, leaps, climbs, and stops for only the briefest of snuggles.

She loves music and songs, and my greatest delight is when she sings. The songs are all in her head, but she's still figuring out how to get them out of her mouth.

She loves stories, and my other greatest delight is listening to her read them to herself, her baby doll, her baby sister, or at all.

She loves her little sister (mostly) and my other other greatest delight is seeing Georgie love "Baby Fwosie" with hugs, kisses, and shared toys and watching Rosie light up at the attention from her adored older sister.

Georgie loves bath time and going outside and coloring and being chased. More than anything or anyone else, she loves her special blanket.

She begs for candy and watching shows and playing on the phone/tablet/iPod. Thanks to her insistence, I have 101 Dalmatians, Frozen, the first forty minutes of Chicken Little, and Toy Story 1, 2, and 3 completely memorized.

She parrots everything she hears and sees, both good and bad. She very tenderly consoles her baby doll ("Ohhh, is okay Baby Doll!") and then pinches my arm when I take off the outlet covers. (I tried to teach her not to touch the outlets by pinching her arm to demonstrate what a shock would feel like. Wrong way to teach that lesson.) 

Georgie is a sensitive spirit. She's very tuned in to emotions and gets concerned when other people are upset. It's very sweet. She's also very aware of other people (to an extent; I mean, she is only 2) and checks in a lot: "Mama okay?" "Daddy need food?" "Baby sad?"

She loves people and routinely goes down her list of family members, from grandparents to aunts and uncles to cousins to dogs.

She is still shy in new situations, with new people, or as of recently, just whenever anyone comes over, but it doesn't take long for her to warm up and start showing off.

She loves going to Nursery on Sundays. She loves playing with other kids. She also loves playing by herself. At home, she often loads up a bag/bucket/baby doll stroller with books and toys, says "Bye!", and goes to her room to play.

She has all her teeth, minus the back molars. Her hair is still very curly (see pictures below). She takes an afternoon nap (most) everyday, though sleeping is still an occasional challenge. Eating is still hit and miss. She's ready to potty train but I am not, so for now, we buy the diapers. She says prayers, recognizes all pictures of Jesus, and gets excited to point out temples anytime she sees one.

Georgie usually loves to help: vacuum, do laundry, put things in the trash, turn lights on and off (and on and off), get toys for Rosie.

She usually loves to test her boundaries: running across the parking lot instead of into the house; chewing up or ripping apart her books; coloring on the walls; dumping water out of the bathtub by the bucketful. On hard days, she gives new meaning to the phrase, "Hell hath no fury like a toddler. Period."

Our hardest days are the ones when she sleeps in too late and doesn't take a nap. Our second hardest days are the ones when she's hungry but won't eat what I have. Our third hardest days are generally Wednesdays. 

Our best days are all the other days.

She is learning about happy choices and sad choices. She is learning how to play with Rosie. She is learning about consequences. She is perfecting how to stall at bedtime. She is learning how to ask for what she wants without crying so that I can help her. She is learning that her body is amazing and capable and strong. She knows that she is loved and adored and needed to make our family complete.

Happy birthday, Georgie Girl. What a beautiful, exhausting, fantastic, trying, delightful two years it's been. We can't wait for all the rest of the years to come.

She won't stand still for photos anymore, so I have to take what I can get!

Some days, she's Shirley Temple. Other days, she's much more Farrah Fawcett.

New birthday outfit from Grandma Mel and Grandpa Bob, and new post birthday bruises on her face from tripping face-first onto a hardwood floor.

Loves loves loves her blanket.

She wouldn't stop moving so this is the best picture I could get of a Shirley Temple hair day.

7 months old, or The One with Physical Therapy

This is for Lisa, because she reminded me that it's been a month since I published my last post (which is not to say that I haven't been composing new posts, they just don't make it up here!), and that means Rosie is 7 months old and it's time for an update.

Ah, 7 months. I forgot how much fun this age is. For weeks I've been worrying about not engaging Rosie enough, and then all of a sudden it got easier, not because I got better at it, but because Rosie is so much more interactive! Her personality is getting easier to see and experience and she's responding to us so much more. I love it!

The biggest change in the last month is that Rosie started physical therapy to strengthen her neck (she has torticollis). We go to see the pediatric physical therapist once a week for now, and then there are exercises I have to do with her everyday, multiple times a day. It's been just over a week and I think I've run almost the full gamut of emotions already: guilt (why didn't I do something sooner?), anxiety (what if there's already permanent damage?), reassurance (it's really minor compared to what it could be), determination (it'll take time but we'll fix this!), elation (we did it without anyone crying!), patience (I know you hate this, sweetie, but it'll be over soon), uncertainty (is this the way I'm supposed to hold her?), frustration (just. hold. still!), resignation (fine, we'll stop), back to guilt (I only did her stretches twice today and now she'll never get better), and exhaustion (we have to do this for how many more months?).

Really, her neck is not bad at all, and developmentally she's right on track. And I can see a difference in just a week, and we're finding ways to get through the stretches more easily. But my baby hates me three times a day, and that's hard. When she gets mad enough, she will literally push away from me and refuse to look at me. (Granted, that happens more when I try to clean out her nose, but she's not a fan of her stretches, either.) My biggest worry right now is that this is going to be a barrier to our bonding as she gets more responsive. I want to be sure I see her, not just the angle of her head, and I don't want her main association with me to be "Quick! Squirm! Get away!" So here's hoping I have something more positive to say about that in a month...

On happier notes:

Our shrieking, babbling girl has started mimicking our sounds. Tim is sick (boo) and this morning, he was coughing and Rosie coughed right back at him. I pretended to cough and she did it again with a huge grin on her face. New game! She'll even "sing" back to me sometimes - I love it!

We are having success with solid foods. Can I just exclaim for a minute how happy I am about that? Success! With solid foods! We've only tried cereals and vegetables so far, but even so, Rosie typically likes to take the spoon away from me as soon as it's in range, stick it right side up in her mouth, flip it over (so that most of the food ends up in her mouth), then take it out and chew on the bottom of it. And somewhere in the process, the food gets mostly swallowed. SUCCESS! 

Rolling-everywhere-Rosie is just starting to scoot (mostly backwards) and in her wild rolling-ness, she tends to get stuck under the couch. She also is catching onto the concept of coming and going, so if I start to "chase" her, she rolls away, and if Daddy beckons her over, she'll roll across the room to grab his toes.

Speaking of whom, this girl's got a sixth sense for her daddy. Anytime he walks in the room, she instinctively knows it and has to find him and grin like crazy at him. Daddy's girl? I think yes. She also continues to adore her sister, even though sister's new favorite game is Take Toys Away from Rosie.

Her first tooth has cut through on the bottom and I think the second is on its way. At least, let's hope so, because the minute that thing shows up, it's sleep training time. Rosie has, so far, resisted transitioning to a crib or pack 'n play and still insists on waking up 2x a night, so once she's healthy and not teething, I think we're just going to bite the bullet and let her cry it out in the crib until it takes.

And other than that, Rosie is still our ridiculously happy, bouncy girl. She gets SO EXCITED when I go in to get her from a nap, I just had to video it. 

Other than the physical therapy part, Rosie at 7 months is great so far! We just can't get enough of this beautiful, happy girl.

We tried on her Halloween costume a bit early to make sure it would fit. Too. Cute.

Rosie at 6 months

I can't believe we're already to 6 months! This is going so fast. I sometimes feel like I am still getting to know Rosie. Here are some new/updated points of interest in the life of Rosie:
- Rosie can roll! Front to back, back to front, either direction - she's a pro! When she's in the mood, I can put her down in the middle of the living room, come back in two minutes, and find her anywhere in the room from practically under the couch to under the desk to trying to slide across the tile to the kitchen.
- Rosie can sit! This isn't new but she's a pro at this too. She rarely falls backward anymore, and if she tips to either side, she just gets her arms out from under her and starts rolling, no fuss.
- Rosie loves to bounce. L.O.V.E.S. to bounce. She spends a decent chunk of her day in her bouncy seat in the kitchen so I can make or clean up our meals.
- Rosie talks! She's moved from just making noise to saying "Ma" (sometimes "Mama"!), "Ba," "Da," etc. She loves to chat it up, squeal and shriek, and generally hear herself "talk."
- Rosie loves being tickled, teased (peek-a-boo is a favorite), and sung to. She absolutely lights up when she sees someone she recognizes - I think we've got an extrovert on our hands. She also gets so happy and excited when someone smiles/makes faces at her that she just can't stand it, she has to squirm and laugh and look away. It's pretty cute.
- Rosie has gone back to waking up twice a night AGAIN after sleeping through the night (again). Ask me how I feel about that. Go on. I dare you.
- Rosie has almost settled on a 2-3 naps a day schedule that I can mostly plan on. She also puts herself to sleep like a champ. This makes me very happy.
- Rosie expresses displeasure by blowing out her lips (think of a "brrrrr" sound). She screams when she's really mad about something (which is infrequent), but just being generally bored or unhappy just produces that "brrrrr"ing sound. It's kind of funny.
- Rosie doesn't eat much sometimes because she gets so very distracted by, well, everything. She always makes up for it later but it can sure be annoying in the moment.
- Rosie is perfecting her swiping skills. Anything that comes within range gets swiped at and she succeeds in her goal at least 50% of the time (100% if you aren't paying attention).
- Rosie spends most of her days on the floor or in one of her bouncers/seats with at least one toy in her hands and/or mouth at any given moment. The rest of her time is spent napping (lovely) or being held, something I wish I could do a little more of. The hour or two when she's awake and Georgie's asleep is when we really get to play, read, and sing together. I wish I knew how to plan my time with two kids a little better so that they both get some good one-on-one time with me. Especially on the days when I have work deadlines, I sometimes get to the end of the day and feel like I didn't really even see them. Mothering is a constant exercise in balance, isn't it? Six months seems like it should be enough time to figure all this out, but no matter how much progress I make, there is still some learning and relearning and relearning again to do. Thank goodness for Rosie's smiles to make me feel like I'm doing something right!

And now for some picture cuteness:

Eat the sign!!! Must have something in my mouth!!!

Don't worry, she threw up all over this outfit four minutes later.

I get tired of going through four outfits a day so Rosie usually ends up hanging out in the pantry in just her diaper. Lucky girl.

Not a great photo but it just made me laugh: Rosie leaning on Georgie, chewing on a blanket, while Georgie holds her juice and blanket and gets mad that Rosie is in her space. Pretty typical scene, right there. Add a picture of Georgie begging me to put Rosie in the crib two minutes earlier and another of Georgie pushing Rosie over two minutes later and I'd say their relationship is summed up nicely.

Working with a God of miracles, part 2

NOTE: After writing that last post, I wanted to clarify that I know our situation is not unique. I know dozens of people who are or have been in similar situations with school and work and kids, and I don't want to make it sound like I think our situation is more dire than anyone else's. And we know that there isn't a fast pass - we just have to buckle down and take it a semester at a time and make it work, because that's what you do. But at least while we were in the planning stage, the "making it work" part was very stressfully up in the air, and we felt like it would be foolhardy and reckless to go ahead without being able to support ourselves and just hope for the best. 

So, picking up where I left off - Tim gave me the priesthood blessing on a Friday. That very next Tuesday, I got a phone call from an unknown number. I let it go to voice mail as I was about to put the girls down for naps. When I checked my messages later, I listened to a message from someone from an art company who said they were looking for some writing and editing help. He explained a little about who they were and what they needed, but as I listened, all I could think was, "Wait, what?" The company name wasn't familiar and I was racking my memory to see if this was one of the random Craigslist jobs I'd applied for recently. I had no idea who this was or how he had my information until at the end of message, he said, "I got your contact information from a Craigslist ad from a few years ago." Then it hit me. This was a job I vaguely remembered applying for four years ago, the last time I was job hunting. FOUR YEARS. I couldn't believe it. Four years ago, I applied for a job, never heard back, and then at the precise moment I needed it, they just called me up out of the blue to basically offer me a job. What the what???

I called him back. He asked if I was interested in some work. I tried to express my enthusiasm and availability without gushing. He cautioned that it wasn't on location, it would be part-time and all from home. I tried not to laugh or cry when I told him that was EXACTLY what I was looking for. He said he had a project that needed some immediate attention. I said I can start tomorrow. We set up a time for me to go into the office for an official "interview" (basically just to talk terms - he asked me what my rates were and I tried hard not to say "A million hundred dollars!") and the next day I started clocking work hours. Can you say miracle? I couldn't believe it. I still can't. It was just...wow. WOW. Wow. Talk about "knock and it shall be opened unto you." It felt like the door had opened before I'd even finished knocking!

Right around that same time, I got in touch with a friend that I go way back with but hadn't talked to since graduating from BYU. In addition to general catching up, she mentioned that she worked for a company that used freelance writers to produce educational materials and would I be interested? I said yes! It took a few weeks to get through the editing tests and sample assignments but as of now, I've already been paid for my first few assignments and have more coming. Can you say miracle? I couldn't believe the amazing timing - what a gift.

Sometime during all those weeks, I'd randomly seen an ad for an online proofreading/editing service site - Scribendi.com. I decided to see if they used contracted (freelance) editors and decided to apply, what the heck. Again, it took weeks (and a BEASTLY editing test) to hear back and I'd almost given up on them twice when I got the email: I was hired. I am still in the process of figuring out how to make this one work with my schedule and and I am still pretty intimidated by this job - it's a professional service so the standards are high and the requirements are many - but still. A third job. One that will provide me with a pretty steady stream of work when the other jobs are slow. Can you say miracle? Oh, and one of the best parts? The night before I got the "you're hired" email, I had finished all of the freelance work I'd been assigned so far and I told Tim, "We need to start praying that some more work comes up by next week." Or, you know, the next morning. MIRACLE.

My three jobs are just a few of all the blessings we've already seen on this journey. We still don't quite know how this is all going to work, especially as we get deeper into the semester and especially since we keep running into snags with Tim's schedule, but we know we are being taken care of. And in the meantime, I have work to do. Finding a way to fit it into my schedule on a regular basis is going to take some time and patience (and require a regular nap schedule *coughRosiecough*), but I am oh so very grateful for this opportunity. And I am incredibly humbled to see the hand of the Lord in my life, answering my prayers and giving me exactly what I need exactly when I need it.

We are working with a God of miracles. I don't know why this particular challenge is being filled with miracles while other challenges haven't (at least not in the same way). I don't know why we're seeing the Lord's hand so clearly and directly while other people in similar situations are not. I worry on an every-other-week basis that something harder is just around the corner and these blessings are the Lord's way of preparing us for it. And I am sure that at some point, the miracles are going to be less dramatic, more subtle, and only obvious over long periods of time. But maybe that's one of the miracles, too: right now, we get to see and appreciate the blessings as they come. Maybe this is preparing us for the future by giving us a sure footing on which to start the journey, so that when we're tired of worrying and our faith that things will work out has started to wear thin, we'll have something to fall back on. So in advance of those times, and for anyone else to needs to hear it:

We are working with a God of miracles.

Working with a God of miracles, part 1

Behind the bare bones facts of what we're up to (school, work, kids, life) is a story that is still developing, but I want to start sharing it. Sometimes I need to reread my own life story, especially the parts that shape my character, and this is one of those times in the making. So more for myself than anyone else, here's the scoop.

For the last couple of years, Tim has been taking just one or two classes each semester. This was partially for his sanity and partially out of necessity so he could work full-time. It was an okay system, but after needing to take every other semester off for one reason or another (baby! and baby again!), it meant that in 2 1/2 years at UVU, he'd completed barely more than a single full-time semester's worth of classes. No bueno.

At the same time, while Tim's enjoyed working at Novell, it's not a job that's going anywhere and it's not a career. He's been looking for a new job off and on for almost a year and the career-level, salaried jobs all require a completed degree, which is years and years away. Again, no bueno.

So back in May, Tim and I started talking about him taking more classes. We figured that if he took 3 classes per semester (9 credits), he could be done in 2 1/2 years. It would be hard to have him work full-time and keep up with 9 credits of computer science classes, and it would be a sacrifice for me to have him less available, but, we figured, it would be worth it in the long run.

Then in June, Tim found out that in order to keep his job as an intern at Novell, he needed to be going to school full-time, as in at least 12 credits per semester. Yikes. On the one hand, we were happy to have that extra push to get him through school even faster (only 2 years!). On the other hand, full-time school meant he'd have to work fewer than 40 hours per week to keep up with the homework. 

Cue the panic. Since losing my job in March, our finances have been stretched impossibly thin. Like, you know when you stretch a piece of chewed gum and holes appear in the middle, but it's still technically on strand of gum? Yeah, like that. We had holes in our monthly budget that we just couldn't cover without taking from savings, and after a few months, that was getting a bit thin too. So even without the school factor, it was clear that I needed to find work again.

I can't tell you how much anxiety this gave me. I really enjoyed not having to worry about work while we adjusted to having two kids - it made a tremendous difference in my postpartum experience (with Georgie, I tried to jump back into work way too quickly) and two kids gave me plenty to do as it was. But even if Tim found a higher-paying job, we needed a cushion for the month-to-month, and it just didn't make sense for me to not use my marketable skill set to help.

But here's the trick: I needed to be able to work from home. We couldn't afford any kind of daycare situation, plus, you know, I had a newborn, so it had to be something part-time that I could do during naps and at night. We started praying for the right opportunity to present itself and in July, I started looking. I checked KSL and Craigslist regularly, created a LinkedIn profile, got back on LDS Jobs, etc. etc. etc. It had been four years since I'd been job hunting and I felt completely out of shape, professionally speaking. I got super discouraged and/or overwhelmed every other day. (It didn't help that this was also the time of Rosie's worst sleeping stretch. Exhaustion = over emotional.)

I asked Tim for a priesthood blessing. He felt like he needed one, too, so first, he got a blessing from one of his brothers. It was amazing and perfect and addressed things in a more specific way than I'd even heard in a blessing before. We were blown away and came away feeling very known by the Lord. And the message we took from that experience was that Tim needed to focus on getting through school quickly, which was a nice bit of reassurance. A few days later, I was melting down again about everything (I'm a bad mom! I can't fit work into my life! I'm not qualified and I'll never find a job! The house is a mess! I'm failing, failing, failing!) and Tim was able to give me a blessing. 

I don't want to over share what was meant to be a personal, sacred experience, but I also want to be a witness of the Lord's hand in our lives. So. I will say that it was probably the most powerful blessing I've ever received. The only thing that compares is the blessing Tim gave me the night before Georgie was born in terms of the depth of the promises and the intensity of the spirit. Basically, this blessing was full of loving reassurance, specific directions and guidance, and the promise of miracles. As we talked about it later, Tim and I both felt that the Lord was taking us by the hands and saying, "Walk with me. This is going to be hard, but I'm going to strengthen you so you can bear your burdens. You will not only get through this, but come out of it better and stronger. Just trust me." We had been asking over and over to understand the "how": how are we going to support ourselves, how will we meet all our responsibilities, how will I find the right job, how will Tim manage to balance all his priorities, how will our family stay connected. And it felt very very difficult to move forward without being able to answer those "hows." But that blessing, more than anything else to that point, very firmly told us to stop trying to see the "how" and to just walk by faith through the darkness - "one step enough for me." And the best part is that it was such a clear and distinct reassurance that it wasn't hard to take a deep breath, square our shoulders, say "Okay," and mean it.

Stayed tuned for part 2...

Missing my dad

I have tennis elbow in my right arm. After six weeks of fairly consistent hurting, I finally went to a doctor to see what he thought and yup, tennis elbow. It doesn't hurt all the time, but the ache is always there. It gets painful when I fully extend or twist my arm and when I pick things up with that hand using mostly my forearm. It often catches me off-guard when I grasp a pillow and try to lift it, and find myself struggling to complete the task. It's frustrating, but there's not a whole lot to do about it except let it heal.

Next week marks ten months since my dad passed away, and tennis elbow feels like just the right metaphor for what my grief is like right now. It doesn't hurt all the time, but the ache is always there. It gets painful when I let my emotions fully extend or twist my memories and when something reminds me of my dad. The pain often catches me off-guard when I suddenly, achingly remember with my whole heart that he's gone, and then I find myself struggling to stop the tears all over again. Sometimes it's random; other times, predictable. And there's not a whole lot to do about it except be sad and let it heal a little at a time.

It's easy to bury the sad under layers of practicality - nap schedules, feeding times, packing a diaper bag, making a shopping list, budgeting money, finding time to work, sleepless nights, exhausted days, and doing it all over again, and again, and again. But under it all, I miss my dad pretty terribly.

This weekend we celebrated (commemorated? marked? recognized?) what would have been my parents' 29th anniversary and my dad's 55th birthday. I felt the weight of these dates all week long, on top of all the regular stress of everything. It's been a rough week, to say the least, and frankly, I am not ready to start another week yet. Grief is exhausting, even in a months-later, diluted-over-time form. As I think about the next few months, I anticipate more of these heavy weeks as we approach some weighty milestones and hard holidays. I keep thinking back to where we were a year ago, so blissfully unaware of what was just about to come. I am so very aware of life's fragility right now, which I believe can be a good thing if it prods us to be more open to the present, but currently I'm just terrified of all the "what ifs" of the future based on the heartache of the past. 

I'm starting to ramble, but I needed to say that losing someone hurts, even ten months later. Because it's not just ten months of moving forward; it's also ten months of moments that you would have spent together, the conversations over dinner, the laughter, the tears, the reassurance, the encouragement, the love. And this weekend, it was the anniversary and the birthday celebrated without my dad. It's hard and exhausting, and sometimes overwhelmingly sad. And then it all becomes part of the normal again, and you keep going, until something reminds you that you are aching inside.

I miss you, Dad. So much.