All posts tagged: God

Potter :: Mama

I’ve scrounged up the time -in the business of motherhood and life itself- to throw on my wheel, which is located in a corner of my parents’ basement. They live in the suburbs of this area just six minutes from my place out in the country. Eventually, we have plans of building here on our property a studio for me, one large enough for my work but also for the kids to hang out in. Until then…. I intermittently have opportunities to work in my makeshift studio that butts up to my dad’s office (what he always dreamed of- having his married daughter come back home to work in his office space 😉 ) I’ve been thinking to myself about my work as a potter and my work a mother. I love both jobs. I have a passion for them both. I have a passion for a lot of other things as well such as public speaking, Vision Therapy, brain development, and watercolor painting. But for now, at this stage of my life, I’ve picked …

Potter :: God

At this juncture in my potential career with clay, I’m simply learning how to “feel” the clay. I’m learning how it moves and shifts and forms and swells and lengthens and expands. The process of being a potter is largely through touch, the feeling of clay in my hands. It’s a tough job. It looks way easier than it actually is! This little soap dish here- it’s nothing special. But making it was something special- the clay itself was hard and cracked and uncentered from the start (the preparation part before throwing on the wheel is important, too, but I haven’t quite mastered that either). The clay flew off the bat three different times. I felt frustrated that I couldn’t center it, that I couldn’t get it firm enough on the bat to make it into a worthwhile vessel. And that made me stop and ponder…. aren’t I like this sorry lump of clay? Cracked, dry, worn out, uncentered, and unfit for the process of being made? Yea. I totally am like that lump. But …

Knowing :: God

I think I’m coming to a new place in knowing God. I was raised in a Christian home and I’ve studied the Bible for myself. But as it is for all of us humans- we question everything and we get tightly wound about the things we can’t explain. I am finding in this time -three years post Heidi’s death, two years post my NICU baby, five months post my third child’s birth- that I am trusting God in a new way… I’ve trusted God to be who he says he is. Now I trust God to be with me no matter what. I’ve been at the bottom of the barrel. Maybe I haven’t sunk as low as you have; but I know what it feels like to be a victim, to have out-of-control circumstances, to be utterly consumed with fear, to wonder if life is worth living. Now that I’ve lived more of life- I don’t trust God to give me good things. I know for a fact that he will give me terrible things. …

Christmas :: Morning

This certainly is the strangest Christmas morning I’ve ever had. I’m alone on my couch in the pajamas I’ve worn for the past three days, I’m sick with something like the croup, my husband is working, my daughter is having a sleepover with Granddaddy & Grandmother, my baby is asleep in his crib. It’s certainly not the toughest Christmas I’ve ever had. Christmas 2014 that we should’ve had with Heidi, but she was suddenly gone before Thanksgiving, was virtually unbearable and I am amazed every year as we look back that we survived it… I don’t mourn the lack of Heidi’s presence on this day as much as I think I would… I know that she is safe and well and happy, and I have no doubts of seeing her again and being with our Savior for eternity. But I’ll tell you what does get me- watching my other two beautifully innocent children and wondering what their future in this broken world will be… I mourn that more deeply, in a way, than I do …

Heidi: Third Birthday

I remember a friend of mine who’s son passed away of SIDS, as well, twelve years prior told me that some years you let yourself remember and reflect and rejoice in that precious child’s life; and other times you don’t do all those things and that’s okay, too. It was their first child -Jackson was his name- and with their other children they wanted to always celebrate Jackson’s birthday with cake and balloons, the typical party paraphernalia for any age. But she told me that some years there was too much weight, too much grief in the days leading up to Jackson’s new number. She’d remind me, “And that’s okay, you know? Grief is like the ocean tide- it comes and it goes, it’s subtle and it’s overwhelming.”  I wasn’t sure how I’d handle Heidi’s third birthday this year. But I decided that I needed to celebrate her. I made a rainbow cake and added skittles for humor since she was born the day after Halloween; my parents brought balloons and flowers and a card …

Picture: a day

I’m going to be trying a new thing here on my blog- Posting a picture a day with a few thoughts attached to it. I’ve used my Facebook blog-page as a “sounding board” or “launch pad” for some topics that I’d like to write more about. But I really love my little blog -it started out like a craft project for me or like a collage of pictures and artwork from my home- and I want to continue using this place for most of my writing. The reality at this stage of my life with such young children is that I rarely have time to put two thoughts together much less finish a sentence. Some of you readers know of this dilemma 😉 So I’m going to attempt sharing simple thoughts and perspective from little snapshots in my part of the world. I hope you’ll tune in next time as I journal along this journey of having a family, living with grief, learning from God, and throwing with clay… all while renovating an old farmhouse …

Picture: of Grief

It’s a darling photo of a darling family. It would seem that simple. But it’s not.  Something I combat as a grieving mother (yes, grief is an ongoing process) is envy or pride or something like that. When I see pictures of other happy people in their happy place….. and know that they’ve never experienced tremendous pain or loss or heartache and that their life really is just about that simple….. I scroll past the picture.  Because when I look at my pictures I see people who came to a place of tender comfort from the trenches of battle. I see faces that smile though they were sullen, sore saddened shoulders that have been raised upright again, arms that envelop two precious lives… and ache for the other precious child. I see people who have suffered and wept and torn their hearts out and bloody beat the ground with woeful words to God. I see people who have a story that’s dug deep & long gnarled roots into the ground of God’s truth in order …

Happy Birthday, Sugar

Oh, Sugar. Oh, Honey-Bunches-of-Oats. You’ve been the cream in my coffee all year long. What a delightful year it was.  Your one year birthday celebration was a smash hit with about 60 people here to commemorate your special life and to rejoice in God’s good gifts to this family. All are smitten with you- your infectious smile and almond shaped eyes and thick eyebrows and rosy cheeks and endearing little voice.  At your birthday last year you were just a crawler and the “Nap Queen,” so your jammies say. Truly, you were delightful every day with your amiable disposition, fascination with the world around you, satisfied little laugh, and seemingly perceptive sense of humor.  After your birthday bash, you and I had a quiet month of September at home, attending story hour at the library, baking goodies, making friends. Then we had a whirlwind of October on our trip to Aunti Gina’s in Newport Beach followed by a two week separation for the anniversary HI trip when you stayed home with GaGa & Mongie (as …

Safe :: Haven

I sometimes wonder what people think when they see my IG feed or my FB feed- these beautiful snapshots of our life at Bluebird Haven. Do they think we just have it made? That we’re so lucky? That our situation in life is enviable?  It all looks idyllic, as someone once told me.  But how we got here isn’t idyllic.  Let me tell you what I see when I survey this place we call home. I see grace upon grace upon grace.  God brought us to this place as though we were war-torn refugees. We had no home at the time and the place we’d been calling home held the stench of death. We had been living in a rental, a sweet little gingerbread style house, in a rather idyllic town that was much like Mayberry. But Death came like a thief in the night to our cozy home and ripped our hearts out of our chests. We were a bloody tortured mess. I remember my husband trying to literally tear apart the deck posts …

Why :: Write

I had a recent conversation with someone I love & respect, and in this conversation I was being prodded and challenged to consider why I write what I write. I was taken aback that my loved one didn’t understand the backbone of my writings. It was jarring to me and I’ve taken a backseat to think things through. Why DO I blog? What am I trying to convey to readers? What do I care about in my own life? Why do I verbalize the raw parts of my life? So, I’ll share my journal notes to myself about why I blog and then you can comment about what you think of it. How’s that? Discussion is good. Feedback is good. Sometimes I feel like I’m just blogging out into the void, but then some of you write to me privately about your own stories and your own inspirations. That means a lot to me. I think that most of the time I write for therapeutic reasons and as a form of artistic outlet, but I …