mama robin.

Meet our newest friend, Mama Bird.

I first noticed her building a nest a few weeks ago, when we were preparing the beds for planting--she was pulling clumps of dead grass nearby us, and adding it to her little home.  Liv and I check on her each morning and are keeping our eyes and ears out for little babies to appear soon... Liv is so excited to see them!

I especially love that Mama included some bling in her nest. I wonder where that sparkly strand came from... (I'm tempted to make one of these now with scrap yarn!)

I've never been worried about a bird before, but I thought about her last night as a wicked storm rolled through our area. We had the most insane lightning! It was constant, and everywhere, for a good five hours or so. We met with our small group for dinner at a park last night in Applewood, and left right as the rain began... it was good timing as the storm rolled in fairly quickly after that. We pulled off the road at a high point and watched the sky, completely fascinated by the power of God and the beauty of His creation..That tingly feeling of security inside the car, but pure terror had we been outside of it.  I thought about Chris Rice's song Wind and Spirit, and the lyric, "From the corners of creation / Comes the Father's holy breath / Ridin' on a storm with tender fierceness / Stirring my soul to holiness"... The sky was definitely fierce last night. Awesome.

The above images are from 9news, taken around the Denver area; the bottom pic there was taken at Chatfield Resevoir. A funnel cloud was spotted near us in Lakewood around midnight, and the tornado sirens went off--very scary. We ended up sitting in the basment for about 20 minutes, until the warning passed. We never have tornadoes in Denver, so it was crazy surreal. Raul prayed over our family, and you can bet we were giving thanks when the thunder began to subside and the lightning calmed down.  I was also thankful the girls went back to sleep without too much fuss.

This morning after breakfast, Liv and I crept out in our jammies, and were glad to see MBird was still there, safe and sound, tending to her babies-to-be. Whew.

PS. A New York update and photos coming soon...

Remembering is important.

I'm going to think about taking my mom to tea at the Brown Palace this Mother's Day. What a blessing and a total nudge from the Lord that was...

I had been nursing Natalie upstairs one night before Christmas, and I was trying to think of something special to give my mom. I was looking at the books in her room (we haven't moved any from the built-ins R built years ago), and my eye stopped on a small book given to me called "Invitation to Tea." I thought it would be fun to host a little tea at my house for my mom as her Christmas gift... there are lots of recipes and cute ideas in that book. But then I felt the need to think grander. Well, you say "grand," and the Brown Palace pops into my mind. It had been years since my mom had really gotten out to experience anything, been downtown, or seen anything beautiful... and I knew they decorated their lobby gorgeously for the holidays, which is where one has tea. I talked to Raul about it, and he agreed it would be a very special Christmas gift. 

I had fun making a little invitation for her (the flipside says "You're Invited"):

She opened it and giddiness followed. I love that.

We went on January 4th, at 11am, and it was beautiful. We got there early, so we strolled around... went up to the second floor and looked down in the lobby. She refused to let me carry her oxygen for her, but somehow I snuck it on my shoulder anyway. That's how it usually worked with us. {Now, when I see somebody with oxygen, my heart goes out to them and I am tempted to carry their tank, too--maybe I'll have an opportunity to one of these days. I can say that living beside my mom with her illness softened my heart in ways I'm still discovering... helping with even the seemingly little things in life often mean more than you ever think they would, and the oxygen stuff is one way I will be soft forever.} We oohed and ahhed over the vintage furniture, Christmas garlands and bulbs, and the fancy schmancy bathroom. 

Mom & I before we left

Looking down into the lobby at the Brown Palace from the second floor

What a ceiling!

A pianist played the whole time we were there, and he looked just like Carl from UP.  Loved that, with his big black-rimmed glasses. He played music from musicals and old movies. Mom and I kept trying to name the song, or the movie, before the other could--she beat me! I had no idea she knew her showtunes--we never watched these together when I was growing up, and I never heard her mention that she liked them, or at least knew them. I was impressed.

"Carl," our pianist

They served us 3-tiers of scones, sandwiches, and wee little desserts, and we had a bottomless teapot of this amazing chai tea--they placed a lovely, but heavy, silver strainer that sat on our cups. We each also had our own silver teapots--I had to lift mom's for her for refills, they were so heavy.  She refilled her cup a lot, so I got my workout in! We even enjoyed a kir royale--black currant liquor mixed with sparkling white wine--a first for us both, as we waited for the tea fare.

Kir royales, with berries: yum

It was all so beautiful and relaxed and enjoyable.  She looked so snuggly and lovely in her green sweater--I think my favorite sweater of hers, ever.  Do you have favorite clothes your mom wears? Why are they your favorite? I loved clothes that made me want to hug my mom, especially the last few years. Most of what she owned was like that... knit, soft, warm colors... I think I liked the green sweater because it brought out her eyes.

It means so much to remember this day we shared because we might not have had it: I had originally made the reservations for January 15th, but something in my gut told me to make them sooner, if possible. Originally, the 15th was all they had available. But that sour pang whispered in my spirit, "You may not have enough time..." so I called right before making her little invitaton, and they said they had an opening on the 4th. One month and a few days later, she was gone. I told Raul later that him urging me to take her there after I had mentioned it was the best gift he'd given me. I still feel an insane amount of gratitude to him for letting me love on my mom through tea and scones that day.

She had said to me then, "This will be a good memory for you." She said it with such resolve, no tears, just... this is how it is, and I'm glad.  Can't only a mom say things like that in such a situation? I know she shed many tears, but the fact that she overrode those to speak good things to me clearly and with joy is something I hope I can do for my girls. Again I say, leave it to a mom to do that... Anyway, me taking her there was just as much for me as it was for her, I guess. She was right; it's one of my favorite memories of us, now. I look forward to snuggling her in heaven and saying, "Remember when?"

I love you, mom, and miss you so much, every single day. The sadness would overtake me if it wasn't for the good times, so praise God for that. {Then again...the sadness wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the good times, so... it is good to miss things, because that means there was love!}

on the avengers.

Okay, so I need to state for the record that I love love love action movies. But you know this.  Or, if you know me, you should. :) I enjoy all sorts of movies, but I'm totally the cheering type, and I love to cheer for good, boo evil, and watch how it all goes down inbetween.

I've always loved action, but I'm new to the superhero genre. My hubs is to blame for starting that interest when we went to see IronMan in 2008. Robert Downey Jr. was just so charming and unavoidibly likeable, I was sold. Plus, seeing how much fun Raul was having watching it made me enjoy it too. (Now that I think about it, when R grows his goatee, it's eerily similar to Tony Stark's... hmm, coincidence? I think not.)

Anyway, since then, I've anticipated most of the action hero movies that have come out, and most of them have been pretty good. (Oh wait, don't see the Expendables. Wow. Worst movie ever. And I mean evvveeerrrrr. Let's upgrade that to a capital E.) Captain America was great, Thor surprisingly was enjoyable... But I was excited to see the Avengers purely so I could see how Ironman played with others. Am I nerding you out yet? Cause I'm totally nerding myself out. (A friend asked me once to explain The Simarillion to her, as I said I was reading it, and I totally burst out laughing after a few minutes due to how geeky I sounded, which was totally mirrored in her expression... priceless.)

Back to the topic at hand: this movie is SO fun, has SO much action, and is a pure blockbuster; I've heard it may reach the billion $ range? (!) Joss Whedon (the director) rocks this movie. Here's an official review, if you're interested.  If you liked Ironman, you'll love this one. Take your man out on a date and cheer for the good guys together. It's an easy bonding experience he'll appreciate...and whether you want to admit or not, I bet you will too. ;) Geeking out over. For now.

on focusing II

I can tell there was something different about yesterday's post because I kept thinking about it all afternoon. I reeeeally wanted to change some things, and I felt uncomfortable having hit "publish" without thinking. Progress indeed! Instant stretching of the comfort zone! I love it and hate it all at once. :)

on focusing.

I feel like I have so much to say in this space, but it rarely gets said. It doesn't really make sense--writing words is my natural language, so you think I would be eager to write and write and write here, but that's not the case.  I see glossy blogs all the time that I absolutely love, but I think my love for them causes me to want to imitate them rather than finding my own voice. Booyah, ouch, let's be honest.  It's true. I've had this blog since 2008; c'mon now, it's time to get authentic, right? There's sooo much more I could do with this space.

I've been thinking a lot lately about why I love writing. A few things that come to mind:

(1) Typing on a computer, or using a pen on paper, feels like home. It's just a good correlation between my mind and my hands--my mouth missed the memo on communicating somehow :) but as long as I can type or write, I feel like I can express myself well. Otherwise it's a lot of "think think think" Pooh bear style.

(2) It's pleasing to the eye. Letters on a page, with serifs, without, filling up blank space, doodles included... it's soothing. Words, to me, are the visual equivalent of walking into a coffee shop and letting that wonderful aroma relax you.

(3)  It helps me collect my thoughts. Sometimes I feel like my mind is everywhere, and putting a pen to paper abolishes the crazy. Thoughts come out one at a time and begin to make sense. I really enjoy free-writing, where I will write for a good 5-10 minutes, and won't look back until I've gotten every bother/worry/concern/list out. What's odd is that sometimes I don't even realize I felt a certain way about something until I read it back this way--without editing, honesty shines through.

(4) It's tangible. I love receiving snail mail and letters, or pulling up e-mails. Handwriting is gold to me--right now, reading cards and notes my mom sent to me is time preciously spent. It's like having a piece of her in my hands. And my husband's handwritten notes? Chicken scratch, in font size 2.  But I love it.

So I love writing. Or I hope I've conveyed what writing means to me. The question that keeps coming to my mind is: if I love writing so much, why don't I do it? Especially in this platform?

Let's be honest again, shall we? After much thought and discussion with friends, I've realized boom: I don't think others want to take the time to read what I write, and boom again: I'm scared of what they'll think if they do read it. Fear, simply.  I'm praying through this and am really asking the Lord to remove these hinderances in my life so that I can do what I love!

I don't know if it's because I'm turning 30 soon or what, but I'm beginning to feel this spring gurgling inside that says, "DO IT GIRL!" Whether it's writing, or running, or reaching out to others, or helping lead a Bible study, or whatever has been on my mind lately, I hear this spring of excitement echo my thoughts back to me with encouragement to move forward, but especially in the writing arena. Why has it taken 30 years? (18 would be more accurate... I distinctly remember falling in love with writing when I was 12.) I want the answer to this question, and again, I am praying about it and waiting for the Lord to show me. I'm waiting for my "aha" moment there...

I recently deleted my Healthy Because blog (gasp) to help me focus my efforts. I'm even thinking about starting fresh on a whole new blog, with another server (gasp gasp), but those are just wispy cloud thoughts for now. 

If you've made it this far, thanks for reading my mumbo jumbo ramblings as I try to just write and not look back. That's right; I'm not editing this post at all.

Progress.

:)

my wilderness.

Over a month ago, my mom left us and entered into the beautiful, forever presence of our precious Lord and King.  It has been a hard thing for me to write about publicly, although my journal has been filling up from almost-daily entries. February has come and gone. I've been doing a lot of reflecting as I'm trying to figure out my "new normal" and how all of this works when you feel such a hole in your heart. How do you walk back into your life after such a blow, when this special part of you has changed but everything around you remains the same?

Grieving is a new emotion for me. Right now, it's something that creeps up in quiet moments.  Or seemingly random moments--like when I see pickles at the grocery store, or remember that she helped me sew my kitchen curtains when I'm making coffee next to them. Yesterday was especially painful, as both my girls were coughing and sick, and all I wanted to do was to call my mom to hear some assuring words and her typical empathetic "aww." Realizing I couldn't made me pretty frustrated and downhearted. Olivia has been asking me "Sad?" when I cry, and her sweet little self will usually also offer a hug, which is the absolute best thing to receive when I am sad. It's been a good opportunity to talk to her about sadness, and that Nana is in the wonderful care of Jesus, during these times.

I feel pretty un-myself these days, but I know I'm not alone, and it is only by God's grace and provision that I can bear this grief. I've been praying for peace, and have been thinking a lot about seeking God's peace in my life, and in the lives of my family. Jesus said, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." (John 14:27) I mourn, but not as one without hope.

And so, that's where I'm at these days. Muddling through this wilderness, waiting on the Lord. As Easter approaches I take a new, great comfort in His words: "Because I live, you also will live." (John 14:19)