Friday, December 18, 2009

on my mind

please observe: Lily's left pointer finger in each of the photos above
made me laugh out loud while i uploaded them

I've been thinking of little Claire almost constantly since I got wind of her transplants. Can't imagine sending my baby in for 12 hours of surgery. Can't even think of it without a lump welling up in my throat.
So there's been that (the lump). And prayers. Henry's prayer last night was so sweet, "please bless a little girl named Claire who needs to have a big surgery." I've been hugging my babies tighter lately. been especially tender for Lily. so lucky to have her. even if she is the sassiest li'l pistol imaginable at church.

(sigh) If for nothing other than healthy children, we are immeasurably blessed. As heavy as it's been to try to help bear the burdens of others recently, it sure brings perspective and gratitude - a nice state of being to approach the holidays in.

Nate surprised me with a movie last week - Julie & Julia. We snuggled up and watched it in bed. If you've known me for five minutes, you know I loved that movie.

It made me want two things:
1. a le creuset pot
2. to make out with nate
actually three things:
3. to be able to cook. like, really cook.
4. to still be making out with nate when we're old. (you have to see the movie to understand)

(to the more proper and delicate readers of this blog: i'm sorry for the candor with which i disclose my desires for my husband. I want my children to know that I had the hots for their father).

tonight we had cheese toasts with a tossed salad and sauteed vegetables for dinner - nate wanted meat so badly i could see skirt steak in his pupils. i'd say he got his fill at the Brazilian Steak house we ate at this weekend, though. Lawsie! making up for so many meatless nights at home, i suppose.

i'm on every end of the spectrum these days - my life a collection of contradictions. intoxicated with love for my children. and feeling like i could stand a (long) break from them at some point in every day. achey at the thought of leaving texas. anxious to get to oregon. excited for christmas, content with the efforts I've made. self-reproach for too much procrastination, not enough thoughtfulness. disdain for the frenzied, gluttonous consumption. impetus to shop just once more, pressure to find "just the right thing." smitten by my kind and loyal husband. impatient with him in the same evening.

today seemed like a good day for a bonafide meltdown. so i had one. on the phone, to nate, around lunchtime. complete with crying and snortling (and it's not even the time of the month for that kind of business). it felt good to let it all out. he was understanding and soft. just the right place for my pent-up everything to land.

i keep thinking the downhill stretch is just around the corner. we'll be coasting any week now, i tell myself.
but life is ever a climb. a stretch. a whirlwind.

i hope i'm catching the important parts.

there are some things i always love:
lathering lotion on a dry boy before bed
plucking a rosy-cheeked, wild-haired little lady from her play pen in the morning
baking bread - one of the truest pleasures of my life
hearing Henry sound out words - today he was eating lunch, a tupperware lid lying on the table beside him. I started hearing the phonetic sounds: "guh" "ull" "aaa" "du"
then: g-u-h-l-a-d.
and finally: GLAD!
it is such a thrill to hear him read. he's catching on so quickly and I can just see the confidence burgeoning up inside as he figures out new groups of sounds.
hearing lily say thank you
watching her giddy feet dance around the living room when we turn music on
reflecting on the personal wholeness I feel. on the journey to get here. marveling at the healing. thankful for faith in the atonement that feels as real to me as...anything i can touch

trying to keep it at the center of my heart this season.


  1. Our children are MFEO.

    They have to be.

    She is perfection.

  2. That post was perfection!

    Christmas usually results in a melt-down or two. This is the first year I haven't completely lost it, but I still always have to make sure dh knows how hard it is to do it all. Even if I didn't cry in the expression of it.

  3. We need to be neighbors. That's all I can say.

  4. Merry Christmas, Em!
    I have loved reading you and watching your beautiful children grow...aren't we so blessed?
    You help me to see this...thank you.

  5. Emily, I, too, cannot get Claire and Gifty off my mind. I continue to think about the little one which had to pass back to our Heavenly Father's hands in order to save these two precious children (just one week before Christmas) and my heart feels overwhelmed. I cannot imagine giving up my Matthew in order to save someone else's life--as selfish as that may be. Yet, what a gift to give--to give the gift of life to someone else. As I find myself about to reprimand or say something unkind to a misbehaving child, I think about these sweet little girls. I think about how quickly they can be returned. I've been trying to focus on showing my love more often to my children and my husband. You're such a good example of this, Emily. You're a wonderful mother and wife. Thanks for sharing that through your blog. "Come what may and love it." You're strong and brave. You can make it until your move. Hang in there.

  6. Every time I read your blog I miss you more. Your blog is so great to read, and you were equally as great to chat with. I am sad that I am missing your kids growing up, but you write so wonderfully that I almost feel like I am there. I hope you can emotionally survive this last month in Texas, and I also hope that you can enjoy it to the fullest.