Right before I got body slammed by a virus or two (but hey, not Covid!) I took this little sweetie shopping for some winter clothes. It was a blast.
If you’ve been reading along for years then you know that infertility is a huge, and hugely unwelcomed, part of our story. We’ve tried all manner of ways to have more kids and yet at some point had to offer a simple “thank you” to God for our beautiful only child. But as I look at Kezzie’s precious face in the image above, I rejoice that the hard reality of infertility didn’t win the day. Babies continue to be born, fostered, and adopted. I find myself wandering the aisles of Super Target delighting in picking out teeny items for them. I praise God that Alicia knew I’d love to take her daughter out shopping for some winter gear. Kids legs? I mean, they just keep stretching, don’t they? In the face of huge life changes, I’m grateful this growing kid and I got to take a little shopping trip together. She delighted in picking out hoodies in colors she loved and I delighted in watching her.
Our stories aren’t over as long as we have breath in our lungs. Medical diagnoses and setbacks don’t mean your life is forever crushed. Academic and occupational failures don’t meet you won’t ever see light again in your future. Mistakes and sins of epic proportions don’t mean redemption isn’t coming in days ahead. Buckets of negative pregnancy tests don’t get to have the final word. Each day I spend loving on my friends’ kids, and each time I kiss a boo-boo at school or help a first grader learn to sound out words, I feel the joy of grace flood over me.
Embarking on something new in our home—well, not really IN our home—and it’s so cool. I’m inspired by women who know their fields well and welcome others into their spheres. The horses, the people, the horse-sized Great Dane, the barn cat who took her prize back to a quiet corner for a secret lunch, the view of the sun an hour before sunset… all of it charmed me and filled up my girl’s bucket.
As I said yesterday, I do love animals, but the way my kid loves them is a different level.
Absolutely bit off more than I could chew with this year’s DPP. Pretend with me that I’m totally cool with not meeting a goal. So cool. NBD. Here’s a close up of glitter to distract myself from all this non-goal-meeting. #dpp2021
Today I held a little cherub’s squishy cheeks in my hands while she whispered a secret to me in excitement. Secret Santa kind of secret. She had told me earlier in the day, so full of anticipation that she couldn’t keep the name to herself, but I had already forgotten the name. It floated somewhere in the hard cold winds at one of our three recesses, perhaps getting stuck with a giant piece of cardboard blown in from a neighboring pasture. In one ear, out the other.
The privilege I have in being a secret recipient, a speller of words, a justice of the peace, a reader of stories, a substitute nurse-mom is not lost on me. God whispered something to me, too, last summer, and within days he opened a door. He let me know it was time to work with children again, in some sort of fashion, and that work presented itself in a Facebook post, a phone call, and a Zoom interview–because this is 2021 after all.
God opened the space for me to belong. For years I’ve longed to work on a team and here I am, digging in harder and deeper in a way only God could ordain. The team is more impressive than I had imagined and I’m constantly learning and expanding and figuring out more and more about how humans work in this world. Adults humans and tiny humans, all wobbly and wiggly and awkward and graceful, all manners of wonderful and all sorts of depraved, all at once.
This life is complicated. Sometimes cherubs aren’t so cherubic. I understand this, too, for I am not always cherubic either.
Happy 44 to this face and this body. Happy 44 years to a woman who is insanely loved, not only by her Father God who built her and knows all of her days intimately, but also by an amazing man, a beautiful daughter, her brothers and parents and best friends. I’m grateful for each of my years. To God be the glory, this year and forever.
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Self-portrait snapped as part of the 2018 December Photo Project and re-posted today. I submitted it to an international diabetes organization’s photo call a few days ago so it’s fresh in my mind. This year a re-post will work just fine.
Maria Montessori, Fred Rogers, and Sigmund Freud have all been credited with saying that statement. I’m going to agree with those three and go a little further: play is the work of everyone.
We need to play. Children need to play most of all.
I have a kid who is playing with… give me a sec… paint… still need another deep breath… on our dining room table. Without a safety net. This kid is almost a full grown adult and as such she disagrees with her mother quite frequently. It’s all very developmentally appropriate and yet. And yet she is painting on the table without any table protection.
I don’t know when I turned into such a Type A person. No wait, I know. It’s when I became responsible for all of the messes!
“Play is the work of the child.”
“And the adult.”
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go do something to distract the inevitable paint-filled mess that is my kitchen.
I watch my friends–in every stage of life–and see them thriving in the various places God has allowed them to be in. From academia, to the workforce, to living rooms and beyond, I see them flourishing and bringing light to their corners of this world.
My 2021 is dedicated to them. May these women continue to shine brightly, to enrich, to plant and to toil, to redeem the spaces around them. I see you and I honor you this year!
In the very next breath I will admit that 2020 taught me how to rest in a new, deeper, life-giving way.
So while I tackle this year’s December Photo Project, I do it with my own limitations and needs in mind. I will be shooting every day and posting the images when I can. I am not holding myself to the strict standards I’ve enjoyed so greatly in the past because I choose not to this year. I choose rest at night when my brain has gone still and my eyelids are heavy and doing one more thing is no longer a good thing. I choose my family on weekends where we get rejuvenated by staying in our comfy clothes all day long, by staying close to home, by staying quieter and perhaps reading a book.
Photography is precious to me, so I will press on! But I press on with my own welfare in mind. Blessings to you all this Christmas season. May you find joy in your work and in your rest.
