Bluebells and Baby Talk

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I find myself:

::noticing God's glory

Yesterday was perfectly beautiful! Sunshine and a breeze, bluebells and fairy spuds, and a body of water begging our uninhibited play. We took about 300 pictures. I asked Mary Beth to upload a few. What you see above is what she chose. And you can't even tell it's bluebell season. We began the day with a long walk around the Bluebell Trail. There were plenty of flowers there, though it's not yet peak bloom. Then, we went and plopped down at our favorite creekside spot--the one that is  fairly short walk from the parking lot so we didn't have to haul all the food and water and photo equipment down the longer trail. And we discovered that a very large swathe of bluebells and trees had been obliterated. Not sure what "progress" is planned there, but it certainly doesn't look as glorious as the tableau God created. Makes me sad. And also determined to add some flower pictures to the end of this post.

::listening to 

rain and birds outdoors and utter silence inside. Yesterday ended in sleepovers--lots of children with "fresh air poisoning" are still sleeping hard this morning.

::clothing myself in 

Capris and a T-shirt  of Mike's. The temperature is due to drop 40 degrees over the course of this day. I'm sure my summer sleepwear will gvie way to jeans and a sweatshirt before the day is finished. 

::talking with my children about these books

Bull Run Regional Park (our bluebells playground) is right next to the Bull Run Battlefield. We've punged into a Civil War reading binge for the next few weeks. In addition to Ken Burns' series and this fun book to get us going, we're reading these great books, from a previous year's Civil War study. I started to cut and paste them here, but this post already has the potential to be ridiculously long.

 

::thinking and thinking

about babies. Kristin is due any day. I love babies. I love pregnancy and childbirth and, with one exception, I really love postpartum, too. I have a million things I want to share with her. Things that beg to bubble up and over in a rush of enthusiasm. I'm sure she feels like I've shared a million things. But I haven't. Probably I've shared about a hundred. The rest I ponder in my heart. (Or mention to Mary Beth;-). 

::pondering prayerfully

"We need saints without cassocks, without veils - we need saints with jeans and
tennis shoes. We need saints that go to the movies that listen to music, that hang
out with their friends (...) We need saints that drink Coca-Cola, that eat hot dogs,
that surf the internet and that listen to their iPods. We need saints that love the
Eucharist, that are not afraid or embarrassed to eat a pizza or drink a beer with
their friends. We need saints who love the movies, dance, sports, theatre. We
need saints that are open, sociable, normal, happy companions. We need saints
who are in this world and who know how to enjoy the best in this world without
being callous or mundane. We need saints”."
– Quoted by Pope Francis at World Youth Day 2013 Or maybe not...

::carefully cultivating rhythm

These are our blubebell days. This is Holy Week. We are going to have a new baby in this family within a week. Still, there is rhythm. The days begin with deep draughts of Jesus. You should see the view from my "Bible chair." Oh, wait, I'll show you:

So, it's a little difficult to get up and get going. I'd like to just sit here all day and look at that tree and journey with Jesus to the tomb and on to Glory. But the bluebells are blooming and the greatest feast of the Christian year approaches and, well, sitting isn't really for moms. So, the rhythm of the ordinary--laundry, groceries, even some lessons--is woven into the extraordinary: bluebells, babies, and resurrection. 

This is a pretty amazing time of life.

::creating by hand

over the winter, I created a workshop. I poured heart and soul into it and I felt God's hand guiding mine as I typed. It was a pretty wonderful creative experience. The workshop is nearly over and I can honestly say I've never spent a lovelier, more Spirit-filled time online. 

And now that those words are all said, I'm turning my attention to baby sewing and baby knitting that didn't happen. Maybe, just maybe I'll get some of it finished before our granddaughter appears.

 ::learning lessons in

community

::encouraging learning 

in time management.  Mary Beth is taking classes at our local college for dual enrollment credit. I consider these classes to be such a great gem in our high school homeschool experience. I am able to guide them very practically through the acquisition of skills necessary to succeed in college. She's been a joy to work with and her classes this semester have been thoughtfully presented. Still, learning to balance un moveable deadlines is a skill that homeschoolers don't have have. Until they do;-).

::clicking around

So, I've had very little online time at all this year. I spent January and February really focused on writing the workshop. I spent March on the workshop and some very intense weeks traveling back and forth to Charlottesville. And April? April is whipping by in a blur of bluebells and (hopefully soon) baby. The full step back from the online world has yielded some unexpected perspective. 

About 4 years ago, the internet didn't seem like a very friendly place to me. I had grown wary of nearly every click. Comboxes were especially terrifying. I tried to navigate around those uneasy feelings and I kind of limped along on old paths. With this break, I've had a chance to reframe from focus, to come back and explore and discover the online world of motherhood anew. I've also broken in a new computer and it doesn't know any of the old, haunting places. I'm visiting a few, friendly, familiar places and I'm finding some new-to-me ones. I'm even venturing into comboxes and enjoying conversation in mine. Mostly though, I'm limiting myself to just a few minutes a day and I'm very intentional about spending those moments only in places that encourage me and challenge me to better live my vocation. What are some of your favorite places to visit online?

::begging prayers

for Michael and Kristin and Baby Girl.

for cancer patients and for all the people who love them. Cancer is a hideous, horrible disease and watching it devour someone you love is incredibly painful.

for all the intentions of our prayer community. (I promise to be more faithful to our weekly posts, starting this week!)

For college students, especially the ones who are lonely and feel forgotten.

::keeping house

We managed to pull off some of my lofty Lenten cleaning plans. The garage is in great shape, comparatively speaking. We've deep cleaned some cabinets and closets and Ithought I had the laundry monster under control. Last night, though, I noticed that it has reared its ugle head  yet again in the little girls' room. I think they just have way too many clothes. Or something. I'm not sure what.

::crafting in the kitchen 

I think it's a good day to come up with an Easter menu. Got any great ideas?

::loving the moments

When I can sit in the sun with a friend and watch my kids romp in the water. Love those moments so very much!

::giving thanks 

for Joy Messimer, who took my Restore Workshop ideas and made something tangible and beautiful of the words. She's such a blessing.

living the liturgy

These are very liturgically dense days. The altar serving schedule, the youth group schedule, the straddling still between two parishes and the wanting to be at the basilica downtown, but not wanting to be too far should Baby Girl decide that Easter is a great birthday--it doesn't get much richer than this, if only I see the richness and not mistake it for complicated tangles.

::planning for the week ahead

The bluebells.

Easter.

Kristin is due April 17th and they won't let her go more than a week, so... we're going to get to hold a newborn this week!

Grace in the Moment

The bluebells bloomed about a month early this year. I can't tell you how this rocked my world. I already had a jam-packed schedule in the three weeks before Holy Week. I was trying to finish Easter sewing, double up on lessons, do a spring cleaning and prepare to leave my children and go with my husband on a surprise trip. I knew that when I returned, I would be on the threshold of the Triduum, so I wanted to prepare well for that, too. And then, someone broke his nose, someone else got strep throat ( a first time ever for our family), and Mike's father ended up in the hospital for several days. One day, in the midst of it all, I got an email. "Bluebells expected to be at peak next week."

Bluebell Week is my favorite week of the year. It is my consoling thought during long winters. It is the burst of newness and springtime and hope that brings my weary spirit back to life. It is where I rejoice with my whole heart in God's glory in nature. I never miss it. And I never want my children to miss it.

This year, the weather was annoying during the bluebell's time in the sun (or not). Every day that I had a car available, rain was forecast. Friends we've met there every year were mostly unable to come, or couldn't come for very long. Sometime during the flower's blooming I received an email from a friend whose family we especially enjoy down at Bull Run. The subject line was "Bluebell Panic" because that's what I was feeling as I tried to make the calendar fashioned by my hands work with the God's timing of spring. My friend wrote, " I think that my family will have to wait until next year to see the bluebells again."

And in that moment, I felt an envy I have never felt before. I envied the ease with which she wrote "next year." I never do that. I never, ever assume next year. Heck, I never assume tomorrow. For twenty-two springs,  twenty-two seasons of flowers blooming, I always wonder if fear that I won't see them bloom again. And I always, always take the time to make sure my family notices them, too. Just this year, I wanted the easy-breezy "next year" mentality.

Usually, I consider this awareness of the preciousness of time to be a great gift, perhaps the greatest gift of surviving cancer. I just don't take anything for granted. For the most part, it's made me more grateful than most people can imagine for every single heartbeat. It does, however, come with a bit of dark lining. I have trouble sitting still, trouble just being. I always have this sense of cramming every bit of living into every single moment because I don't know how short life is. I have trouble leaving my children--not because I'm worried something will happen to them while I'm away or that I won't return, but just because I know with every fiber of my being that I won't get those moments again. It's a pretty intense way to live. 

This year, I recognized with startling clarity that God knew. God knew the intensity. And God knew the schedule and the weather and the state of my housekeeping. I handed it all to Him and asked Him to direct my days, to help me glorify Him with my time, and bring me the peace of heart and soul I knew I needed.

He began with the bluebells. We managed to squeeze in a couple very brief visits with friends with the promise to meet again. But then, those promises got swallowed up by logistics for those friends. Then, Linda, Nicholas' godmother, called and told me the absolute only day she could meet us there. Our meeting in the woods has been a tradition since before Nicholas could walk. Since before her son, Bobby, who is my godchild, was born. We cherish these days. We were together by the creek with the flowers the day the new Pope was elected. (That's a great story. You can click. I'll wait.) I looked around my house. I looked at my to-do list. No doubt, the house would stay dirty--the dirt would still be there. But the flowers would not stay in bloom. I took a deep breath. I recognized that I would, indeed, have a car available. We'll be there.

We went. The morning was glorious. Linda met me there with a friend. For over 20 years, people have been telling me I had to meet this lady. And for over 20 years, she's heard the same thing about me. We have a lot of mutual friends. One of them is Linda. And on this day, God brought us together. I shared my flowers with her. It's always such a joy to show someone the first time. 

Around noon, all three of my big boys joined us. Nine children --all nine of my children-- together in the place we've made so many memories. Linda knows me well. Sensing that the enormity of the bittersweet was threatening the joy of the present moment, she began to seize the photo-op and direct my picture efforts. From behind the lens, my mind whirled. Next year, Patrick will be away at school, and probably Christian, too. Michael will likely be married by then, but certainly he will finally have a day job and be much less available. This could be the last time I snap a photo of all of them in the bluebells. The log they once sat on--back when there were only six of them--had long since decayed, a natural reminder that nothing ever stays the same.  We have only today. And there was Linda. Directing and orchestrating, making sure we made the most of the moment.

I am so grateful.

I walked out of the woods that day with my new friend. We shared as if we'd know each other forever. I was struck by God's abundant goodness. And then, just when I thought the day couldn't be any fuller, God reminded me that I've had the great gift of bringing my children to this place for more than a decade. My new friend Jean was just beginning to know the bluebells. She came with her last little girl, a daughter my Sarah's age. 

And she also brought her baby grandson.

There is tangible hope in those flowers.

Every spring.

Not yet.

I ordered this book on November first, absolutely certain that it would arrive before the bluebells bloomed. And then spring came a month early! The blooms are not even close to peaking. The book shipped yesterday and should arrive tomorrow. In plenty of time...