Taking Sick Leave

Hey guys, I'm taking a sick week. My brain is mush, and the post I wanted to share needs my best thoughts. Hope your week is lovely and that Spring is on its way for you!

Spring and Hope

It was spring today.

I guess it's time to come alive,

To throw off the blankets

And greet the bluest sky.

The birds were hope,

Or they sang of a hope

We haven't seen for awhile.

Hope and darkness

Cannot easily coexist,

And I have been the darkness,

And who has been my hope?

But it was spring today,

And something stirred inside.

Something that changed

The colors of my day

And made me come alive.

From the death-like winter in my soul 

To hope and spring holding hands.

In the moments from here

The flowers will grow,

And I will try to grow

After being stunted for a year.

But it doesn't seem impossible

Or improbable or simply not to be

Because spring is my season

To learn to live again.

I'm gasping in each breath,

Dancing beneath springtime skies,

Embracing that thing with many feathers 

-That thing called hope.

It was spring today.

It's time to come alive.

I've been fast asleep

For months now,

And waking up is hard

Because hope and joy mean everything,

But they are quickest to die

When you don't fight to keep them alive. 

Let Me Tell You a Story About Miracles

I wrote this up last year and posted it. Some of you have read it. Some of you haven't, but here it is again in all its flaws:

It began 18 years ago on a warm, July afternoon in a mobile home up a dirt road. There lived a family in that house. A family of seven. Three boys and two girls, all homeschooled, with their mother and father. The youngest was only three and a half, and I remember that the best out of all the children's ages; though the eldest must have been around fourteen or fifteen.

The time was shortly after a lunch - the food being a big pot of spaghetti. The mother had gone to lay down because she didn't feel well. The father was at work. The children were gathered in the living room as they watched Reading Rainbow. There was something funny, but when the children paused it for their mother to come and watch, the mother said she didn't feel well enough. Then she was leaving out the door with their grandma.

From that moment on, nothing made sense. It didn't make sense for nine long months, and even after that, I don't think it made sense until all the children were grown. And by that time, it was hard to comprehend the depths of what happened. Time numbed the urgency. Time numbed the sorrow. Time numbed the loneliness, but time didn't entirely take those feelings away. There was always something in the bottom of the children's hearts when they thought about that July afternoon 18 years ago.

18 years ago on a warm, July afternoon, a church was burning. Most of emergency personnel were downtown at the scene. When the mother called her brother-in-law who worked for the fire department to ask what she should do, he told her to drive to the hospital. It would take too long for an ambulance to get there. It would take too long...

Because the mother was having a heart attack. Not just a light one where you go the hospital. They give you medication. They help you, and then you get to go home to your family soon.

This was the kind where you almost die. Where your heart gives completely out and can't work on its own. Where machines keep you alive as you wait for a completely new heart - somebody else's heart.

This was the kind of heart attack where you almost die again and again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. This was the kind of heart attack where you spend nine months away from your family.

The mother was gone. The father was gone, to work and then to the hospital on the weekends.  For the children, it was somebody different or the somebody different but the same every day. People became adopted aunts and uncles and grandparents. It was meals brought by strangers and church family. It was every other weekend over the mountains to the big hospital in the big city where they ate bacon, cheeseburgers in the cafeteria and watched cartoons in the hospital waiting room. Sometimes they'd get brought popsicles. Sometimes they'd get to see their mother. Sometimes they'd get to hug her. Sometimes...

Sometimes they could only look through a window and wave and say 'I love you' in sign language.

But at night, back at home, after the father had sang hymns in the hallway till he hoped they were all asleep, the youngest would cry. She would cry herself to sleep, keeping her two older siblings who shared the same bedroom awake, because she missed her mother so much.

There were comings and goings. There were almosts and not quites. There were Christmas presents from the church. There were people who showed overflowing love. And praying. There was lots and lots and lots of praying. And there were miracles. Miracles like how the local hospital had just trained people to use the machine which saved the mother's life two weeks prior to that July afternoon.

And then there were sad miracles. In early March of 2000, a man who was studying to become a pastor was driving home with his fiancée from college. They were hit by a drunk driver. The fiancée was killed immediately, but the young man lived a couple days in the hospital before he died, but he had chosen to be an organ donor. His heart was the one which perfectly fit what the mother needed.

The heart was Jesus' heart already. And that was a bittersweet thing.

On March 7th, the mother was given a new heart. And every March 7th is a Birthday, of sorts. A celebration of another year of miracles.

I have a vague, 3 and a half year-old's memory of those nine months, but there are still things I remember quite clearly. And since last Wednesday was March 7th, I wanted to write something about it. I wanted to put into writing how broken everything can be without a mother. I wanted to remember how lucky I am to have had a mother these 18 more years because no matter how common transplants might become - they will always be a miracle.


We met the parents of the donor. All seven of us. They love Jesus, too.

Snapshots of February

*please note: all pictures taken by me except the title image. Ask permission before use.*

I think Spring might actually, in fact, be here now. At the beginning of February, the wildflowers showed up, but then the temperatures slumped to 14 degrees. That was painful. But now we're back on track. The wildflowers are trying Spring out again, and Spring is working. I'm still biting the bit to get started with planting my garden (I know, I know. I said that in Snapshots of January, but really, this month it's going to happen, and you'll then get bombarded with pictures of my garden).  I made the mistake of going into the gardening enter at Walmart. Oops. I managed to escape having only bought seed starting soil, those biodegradable pots, and four packets of seeds. Banana peppers, Kaleidoscope Sweet Pepper mix, Mammoth Basil, and all-season Cabbage (which I'm super excited about. Supposedly it's drought and heat tolerant, and since I actually grew a 9 pound cabbage head last year, I am optimistic...so...fingers crossed). I could go on and on about my excitement for dirt and green things, but I'll stop before your eyes go crossed. 

I ended up taking three more weeks of dancing lessons. We were just getting the hang of the Waltz, and then we changed to Rumba which I had mixed feelings about. Latin dances include something called 'Cuban motion', and I'm not a fan of that. Heh. But I went with it, and we were getting Rumba, too, since it's basis isn't too different than Waltz. Someone said we were looking good so that's an encouraging sign. Even when you imagine you're doing alright, you kinda dread the idea of looking at yourself through someone else's eyes. Sadly, we didn't finish the lessons because my partner moved to the other side of the state.

I'm starting to gain ground with my writing again, but it's been a fight. I keep trying to find a better time because lately, by the end of the day, I'm just exhausted. Silly life, always getting all dramatic on me. But I've finally finished the 2nd draft editing on a Post-Apocalyptic entitled 'Bridge'.  I feel like this is the farthest I've gotten on a book, even though I excavated a book for (at least) four years once (an experience I really don't want to talk about). I'll be reading through this book one more time before I send it to my brother for a read-through. I'm cautiously excited? Anyone else want to sacrifice themselves as an alpha reader? 

During February I read one book. Some Kind of Happiness by Claire Legrand, and I actually enjoyed it. Last Summer I  had noticed it on a bookshelf and admired the cover (and the title, honestly), but since I don't really pick up books on random, I bypassed it. Much later a fellow blogger did a mini-review on it, and it was enough of a push to give the book a try, and I'm so glad I did! It makes me happy to find more fiction books that I enjoy (now that I'm old and view everything with such cynicism. Ahem). I wish I had that book to read when I was younger.

 Now I'm stuck on a non-fiction recommendation. Boundaries by Dr. Henry Cloud & Dr. John Townsend. Do you ever get really self-conscious or suspicious when people give you a recommendation of a non-fiction, 'life improvement' kind-of book? Anywho, there's a lot of good and interesting parts (especially about the importance of raising children with boundaries) in these pages, but I'm also having some troubles with certain points they're making. Or scripture they use to reinforce their points. I guess it's been awhile since I've actually disagreed with a Christian book. Or maybe I just feel like it's only caused me more anxiety by pulling me in yet another direction by one more opinion? Any of you read it? If so, what did you think?

 I watched Black Panther in the theaters the weekend it came out. I went with a guy who's originally from Kenya which was neat because afterwards he told me where different aspects of the Wakanda culture had come from. It was definitely a cool/new feel for a Marvel movie, and that was good. Have you watched it? What did you think? I found the music to be interesting. And the transition between the styles of music.

I kinda need to watch more movies to refill my 'love of stories' bar (since I'm stuck in non-fiction currently), but I keep falling asleep instead. I've reached the age where nothing good or profitable can happen after 9 o'clock in the evening.

I also helped a friend move to Seattle. It was a spur of the moment thing for me, but even if it involved about six hours of riding in a car (which I normally avoid at all costs), it was fun. And I got some awesome pictures, and I was able to see the mountains in Winter which is something I don't get to do ever. Isn't it so beautiful??

The Cascades truly leave me awestruck. God's glory is written all over them.  I sometimes try to imagine the acres and acres of evergreen trees all covered in snow. And how complete the silence would be out under them. We see such a small portion of this world, and even what we see leaves us speechless. Can you fathom the hidden beauties?

Highlight of the month? Yeah, probably this. There's nothing quite like good conversation, good music (thanks to me :P), and beautiful scenery.

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What was your February like? What was your highlight? Have you read any of the books I mentioned? Have you seen Black Panther yet? Tell me about anything and everything in the comments!