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I was looking at these photos while I waited for Photoshop to flatten and save the collage above. As I switched back and forth from images of children in Ecuador that Compassion bloggers are visiting, I was hit with the contrast and how blessed I am. Blessed, but also in a dangerous place -close to complacency. It’s easy to loose sight of the clean sheets I lay my baby down on, the bounty of clean water and fresh food I set upon the table. I complain to God about my comforts, and load my husband with more tasks after his long days of hard work. I fall into thinking I deserve as much and feather my nest, instead of falling grateful before His generosity.

I wine and sulk as I drive home in my mini van after a day at the doctor with three kids. How blessed am I to bring my children to a doctor even for a minor illness?!  not to have to watch them suffer and worry. He said; blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed they who mourn, blessed the meek. I don’t know if we can manufacture those attitudes. Maybe they are just the fruits of suffering. So his message to me? Be warry of how my heart strays when it is comfortable – and be grateful.

And what do I give my boys? I make them a home and teach them knowledge, but what good is that if it’s empty of His words? Am I more concerned with filling their closets and intellects than pouring His spirit into them? America can’t remember how to make it work, who to turn to for help, and families splinter and smolder in the aftermath. This is our one chance to make it work, to show them Who makes all things work together for good. He who holds love and truth, contentment and a clear conscience amidst all our castles in the air.

I, I can’t promise you

that I won’t let you down
And I, I can’t promise you
that I will be the only one around
when your hope falls down

But we’re young, open flowers in the windy fields
of this war-torn world
And love, this city breathes the plague
of loving things more than their creators

I ran away
I could not take the burden of both me and you
It was too fast
Casting love on me as if it were a spell I could not break
When it was a promise I could not make

But what if I was wrong?

But hold on to what you believe in the light
When the darkness has robbed you of all your sight

And now this land means less and less to me
without you breathing through its trees
At every turn the water runs away from me
and the halo disappears
and the hole when you’re not near

So what if I was wrong?

But hold on to what you believe in the light
When the darkness has robbed you of all your sight

So hold on to what you believed in the light

– Mumford and Sons

my new favorite song

I am going back through the past year, taking stock, trying to finish the artistic process I began. I shot and edited this shortly after giving birth, while still in the haze, the fog of war the afterglow. I hate the silly lensflare I added but you live and learn. The rest I love, it speaks of those foggy moments where all that matters is holding close, sleep and tiny breaths upon your neck. When for hours you gaze in awe at your passion made flesh resting upon your lovers chest, and that is more than enough.

9-19-10

I am torn right now, probably always will be. It’s part of being a mom I suppose . . .

His feet keep getting bigger, I want them to stop. For him to grow up big and strong, it’s my sole goal in life. Does this make sense? It tears my heart in two and is the only thing that brings me joy.

I miss his little smushy days yet I thrill to see him walk. I miss chubby little Aaron and sweet baby David, but I wouldn’t go back. I love who they’re becoming. I love pouring knowledge into them at the kitchen table, and I miss when all was said without words.

It’s all a balance of loosing and gaining I guess, holding and letting go. Every mother knows. The tearing begins as they leave your body, wounded to let go. This the only way to say hello. They grow and blossom, becoming whole, making us proud. Our hearts always entangled, fuller than before, forever missing them as they take steps away into life. Their bodies stronger, ours less needed – a victory, a loss. Our hearts drawn in more each day, needed more each year.

I march forward, mark the time and remember the moments. I am torn and I am fulfilled.

9-22-10 . 24-70

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I thought I would post some pictures I took of my friend all dressed up to go to the Marine Corps Birthday Ball with her husband. She looked lovely and he was so into her – super sweet! I loved their energy and it’s neat to see a couple have a special time together aside from all the deployments and time apart. It made me think about how the sacrifice doesn’t stop with those who serve our country, it extends out to their families, many times it is most difficult for their families. . .

We have had our share of goodbyes and homecomings. I miss my man so dearly when he is gone, it feels like a part of me has been cut off and I find it ridiculously difficult to cope. Each homecoming has been so sweet, a honeymoon all over again and I feel blessed to experience a rekindling that few marriages ever know. The haphazard rhythm of come and go can make life feel crazy, but what a small price compared to what so many have paid. This Veteran’s Day I don’t just think of grandparents and news stories, I think of losses close to home and wish I could fill families and heal hearts. I think of babies born with fathers far away, loving wives lives’ shattered with a knock, silver haired women laying a rose upon a grave. I think of children who will never know their daddy’s laugh, of mothers and lovers who bravely wear a smile while they worry and wait, friends who smoke a cigarette in honor, share a drink and tell a story. I think of the chair left empty and the flag waved high, of Harley’s roaring and women weeping.

I think of these realities, often hidden from our eyes and wonder how we overlook the freedom and blessing we enjoy? How do I take for granted our time together, food on the table, babies sleeping safely, votes to cast and knowledge freely bestowed? Don’t get me wrong, I know our country is having a hard time. We rush harried into the 21st century and wonder if we have lost our way. Everything seems postmodern fragmented, truth turned on its head. Before we throw in the towel and slide into disillusionment can we sit at history’s wizened feet? When brother fought brother in front yard battles, when peers were chained to injustice, when the world sank into a fight for it’s soul, when Wall Street tumbled and fell, when presidents and preachers were shot, when we were not free, did we ever give up then? No we fought and won, rebuilt and lent a helping hand, flew to the moon and sailed the seas, righted wrongs and punished injustice. I believe we can do it again, that we should “Never, never, never give up.” I believe we owe this to those who have come before us, to our children’s children, and to our Lord.

All that to say, I love my country and  I want to say Thank You to those from so many walks of life who step up to serve her, and so serve us. I am blessed beyond measure to be together with my family and I never want to forget those who have made that possible or loose sight of those who don’t have that opportunity. This world is cruel; a spot in the sun is always dearly won and should never be squandered, but cherished, protected and employed for good. It these guys didn’t think it would be a perfect stroll in the park, why should we?

“I am mortified beyond expression when I view the clouds which have spread over the brightest morn that ever dawned upon any country.” George Washington

“These are the times that try men’s souls: The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman . . . Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.”  Thomas Paine

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