Hannah Plain and Tall

Naming a kid is hard.

Sometimes we try to think of family names to include in our kid’s name. Apparently there’s a “Tobias” somewhere in Ned’s family history. I can’t get past the “never-nude” from Arrested Development to even give that name a chance.

I’m 27 weeks pregnant. Our baby’s room is a pile of good intentions and unused furniture. I’m currently trying to expose this baby to all of my favorite music so it knows what’s up when it comes into the world. That’s far more important than painting his room.

Yes, that’s right, we found out that we’re having a boy. I really thought I would like to wait until this baby was born to know its gender. Well, I didn’t. I was convinced I was having a girl, and since I have zero girl items, I wanted to know if I needed to buy soft pink colors for everything. Sure, sure, no one is going to yell at me if she’s wearing her big brother’s onesies, but… come on. If you were having a girl, wouldn’t you want to buy dresses and leggings and little mary-jane shoes? Of course you would.

Finn is currently kicking me under the ribs. Hey little man, that hurts! But, I guess you’re not the first. Oh, yes, we’re thinking of naming this little rascal Finnegan. More on that name after bit.

See, the other reason I wanted to know if we were having a boy or girl is because I wanted a little security in my life. It may not seem like a big deal for those people who happily wait until delivery to find the gender, but I found some comfort in knowing something now that will effect my life forever. The thing is, there are about to be a lot of great BIG LIFE ALTERING (and incredibly close?) things happening with our little family. I like lists, so I thought this would make it easier to explain.

1.    For the past year my husband has been testing, interviewing, testing, testing, interviewing, driving to Harrisburg, driving back from Harrisburg, testing some more, Driving to Harrisburg again… to get a job with the Pennsylvania Game Commission. Well, all that driving, interviewing, crying (Ned is such a cry-baby), and testing finally came to a successful end: He got the job!!!

2.    Well, this is just the beginning. Since he has agreed to become a Game Warden for the PGC, he has also agreed to attend a year-long training in Harrisburg, PA. Sorry, Read: No Family Allowed. I imagine the creators of this program were life-time bachelors who could only be tamed long enough to get some training so they could again return to their natural habitat: The Wild Woods of Pennsylvania.

3.    Okay, so after the year long training is over Ned returns home, right? Well, mostly right. After the year is over we will then be told where in Pennsylvania we’ll be living. It could be close, or we could be on the other side of the state. So, the good news is I get to leave my rotten kitchen behind. The bad news is, a lot of unknowns ahead! And potentially being further from our friends and family than we want to be.

4.    Did I mention that I am having a baby? Oh yeah, that’s right…I’m due May 31^st, a few months after Ned leaves for training. Hoping, Wishing, Praying that Finn takes a lesson from his brother and bakes longer than 35 weeks.

5.    I’m thinking I should rename my blog: Hannah Tall and Plain: The Story of a Game Warden’s Wife. Okay, so that’s a joke…maybe.

So, my thinking is, anyone who says: “Well, if God wanted you to know what sex the baby, he would have put a window in your belly” can just well…whatever phrase would be appropriate for: Leave me be.

And, the reason I like the name Finn? It actually comes from a book that I loved when I was in highschool. A Separate Peace. It isn’t just that I like the book, but I particularly loved the character in the book named Finny. He’s the type of boy that you wish were your friend. Here’s a description of him ripped from Sparknotes (the online version, naturally):

Finny is honest, handsome, self-confident, disarming, extremely likable, and the best athlete in the school; in short, he seems perfect in almost every way. He has a talent for engaging others with his spontaneity and sheer joy of living, and, while he frequently gets into trouble, he has the ability to talk his way out of almost any predicament. According to Gene, he is rare among human beings in that he never perceives anyone as an enemy, and never strives to defeat others. Finny’s behaviors also suggest that he relishes pure achievement rather than competition. His fatal flaw is that he assumes that everyone is like him—that everyone shares his enthusiastic and good-natured spirit.

If I ended up with a boy like that, I really wouldn’t mind at all.

With all of these changes and unknowns, where does that leave me? Well, some days are better than others. At this point it is all anticipation and no reality. I can create really terrible scenarios in which this is the worst decision of our lives. What can I say? I’m soooo creative. But -- and I’m not just saying this to cover my butt and make sure I say the “right” thing -- I do know that God will provide. I don’t think Ned and I have ever prayed about any decision more than we have this one. Not even our choice to have children was given this much consideration. I believe that God is leading us down this path and that only he really knows what is ahead. Sure, absolutely, there will be days when I will feel sorry for myself. There will be sleepless nights when I may want to yell at Ned for not being around. There will be times when I feel useless and lonely and sad. I expect to be sad sometimes. Everyone is sad when their best friend isn’t around as much. There will be times when Ned feels like this, too. But, I know, I know, that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I also know that God loves my little family and I have personally experienced the way that God has provided for me in the past. God doesn’t simply limit my blessings to the things I need not to starve, he gives me abundantly more than this, and he always has. I don’t expect this to change in the future, even when things are difficult.

27 weeks (March 2, 2012 Dr. Seuss's birthday)

So, welcome, welcome, Finnegan (Some Middle Name) Kimmel. Stay put until you’re big enough to be healthy. But, welcome, welcome, we love you, and we rejoice that God has decided to give the world another life. May you be a blessing to this world. 

Love Christ; Hate the Christian.

John 15:17-20

New International Version (NIV)

17 This is my command: Love each other.

The World Hates the Disciples

    18 “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. 19 If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you. 20 Remember what I told you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’[a] If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also. If they obeyed my teaching, they will obey yours also.

            I have been thinking about these verses a lot lately.

Number one: Should I care if people hate me?

Number two: Do people hate Christians because they follow Christ, or do they hate them because they truly are hypocritical unloving monsters who, like the Pharisees, love to judge others and point out their sin?

Number three: If I SHOULD care, what should my reasons be?

            It is undeniable that Christians as a general mass have created a somewhat sordid and imperfect past and present. There have been many things done and said in the name of Christ that, from my armchair viewpoint, should not have been said or done. You can fill in the blank with whatever comes to mind. There are plenty of things to choose from. Christians can be a pretty easy target to show imperfection. I personally think that is because the devil loves to create reasons for the world to see Christians as hypocritical undesirables. And it is also because Christians ARE imperfect. We are sanctified by Christ and transformed by our faith. That does not mean that we always do the right thing. It does not mean that we always have the right words, or that we always walk in wisdom. It clearly does not mean that our opinions are popular, and we clearly don’t always express those unpopular opinions in ways that would glorify God. I can’t tell you how many times I have talked to my husband about the fine line between standing up for what we believe in and wisely keeping our traps shut. We have both muddied that line.

            Another thing, which I think is a complete travesty, is that Christianity has become (or always has been?) a political weapon. I am not for one second saying that Christians should stay out of politics, or that they shouldn’t be activists, or that they shouldn’t run for office. What I am saying is that God so greatly transcends any political debate that we have here on Earth that it is almost laughable that our faith in Him could become a pawn in a comparatively insignificant game. Jesus said to render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s. He knew that the people were trying to trap him into a political debate. He also knew that the business that he was accomplishing on Earth was infinitely more important than whether or not Caesar collected taxes (Mark 12: 14-17). 

Photo credit: NDK

            Conservative, fundamentalist Christian. Kind of sounds like a swear word, doesn’t it? And why shouldn’t it be? When was the last time you watched, or read, something – the news, films, books, articles, tv shows – in which a Christian was portrayed as an actually decent person? Politicians touting on about conservative moral ideals generally come across as tight-lipped-big-business-severely-judgemental-war-monger-environment-killing-anti-poor-women-gay-black-hispanic… you get the picture. If there’s a Christian on a show of predominantly non-Christian folk, watch out. That Christian is at best going to come across as some ultra-naïve dumb girl who will someday be sexually liberated. At worst the character will be an extremely severe, annoying kill-joy who secretly wants to join in any kind of sin-filled outing everyone else is partaking in. Or better yet –the Christian spinster woman. She’s awful. She comes to the main character’s door and tells them that their Buddhist statue on the lawn is a blight on an otherwise wonderful community. Good thing we as the viewers know she’s just a nasty old hag that no one loves.

            And why should I be concerned about people hating Christians? Why should I be concerned if they (we) are mocked? Is it because my pride is hurt? Is it because I want everyone to think I have the best answers to all of the world’s problems? No. Obviously. No. (Even if my prideful side desires it). Is it because I want to see conservative right-wing agendas passed through congress? As stated earlier: No. My main concern should be how Christ is represented – and about the people of the world that are lost souls.

            I am sure it sounds like a cliché to be concerned about the “lost of the world.” After the above description of Christians it is hard to imagine that we have any room left in our hearts to actually love people. But, at least speaking for myself, that is a HUGE concern of my heart. When I was in college I got into a conversation with a friend who was not a Christian. We were in a horror film study class and we were discussing Invasion of the Body Snatchers for a class project. The main character in that book realized that something horrible was happening to the townsfolk. When he tried to warn the people in the town, they thought he was crazy. I told my friend that that’s what being a Christian is like sometimes.

            Sometimes it can be extremely discouraging to be a Christian. Not because I feel like the victim of the media, but because I see the harm in such a distasteful portrayal. Not everyone who claims to be a Christian has the right intention in their heart, but I have had the privilege of knowing quite a few of them.

Imagine knowing something so important that you feel like if you don’t share it, you might actually explode. Imagine feeling that if you don’t share it – you’re actually being an extremely selfish human being.

Now imagine a great feast (I love food, I hope this analogy works for you like it does for me). At this feast are all of your favorite foods – for me it would be like, a salad with feta cheese for starters, and then olives, rice, lemon chicken, fresh mozzarella and delicious out of the oven baked bread. I would also have a tasty mixed drink. This feast would be relaxed. We would have wonderful conversation. At the end of it – after we have finished our tiramisu – we would sit back and sip hot drinks and simply enjoy each other’s company. Meanwhile, there are people outside of our warm little glowing cottage who are eating dirt. They’re also freezing. We know they’re outside eating dirt. We know they’re cold. One time we lamely invited them inside, but mostly we keep to ourselves. They don’t ask to come in, and we don’t offer. We figure it’s better that way because it is better to keep out of their business. If they want to eat dirt, that’s up to them. We have our Turkish Delights and that’s good enough for us. This would be my definition of neutrality.

1 Corinthians 9: 16 Yet when I preach the gospel, I cannot boast, for I am compelled to preach. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel!

Adventures in Mommyhood

The other night when the temperature dropped to 6 degrees, I was woken at midnight by the sound of my 15-month-old crying. I realized that it was pretty cold in the house and when I went to check on him, I discovered that we didn't have electricity. Here are some things I learned through the experience:

1. Since we've never had Jack sleep in bed with us, he pretty much has no bedfellow manners. It's kind of like inviting a six-week-old puppy in your bed. He might sleep for a little while, but then again he might walk across your chest, paw your face, and pee on your blankets.

2. While I am very grateful that we have a wall propane heater in our house, I realized that I have absolutely no idea how to use it. If I were home alone without power, I would probably drive to my parent's house for fear that if I did try to turn on the heater, I would blow up the house.

3. Children and animals (and me) really don't like their nighttime routines disrupted. Our dog Dorothy couldn't figure out why we were joining her in the living room and began nervously turning circles in her crate and chewing on her bone. The cat frantically ran in and out of the room, trying to settle on our feet and then changing his mind and leaping over the baby gates instead. And Jack, oh, Jack. Since he wasn't in his crib he couldn't decide if he should be laughing and playing, or crying from extreme exhaustion (simply falling asleep didn't seem like an option in his mind).

4. You don't always need a good night's rest, and sometimes the lack of sleep is worth the memories they produce. While the cat, dog and Jack probably won't remember the events, my husband Ned and I will. And it's probably worth it to lose electricity every once in awhile to spend that dependent time together. My only regret is that we didn't get the hurricane lamps out...

John 14:2 In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?

Sometimes I like to think about Heaven. Because I really don’t know what it will be like there, I imagine it in a way that I would really love. First of all, there would be grand adventures. Like the Hobbit. Or like Star Wars, maybe. God would handpick me travel to other parts of His creation, and I would be equipped with the power of healing and I would have a little dagger in my boot and… OK, so maybe my view of Heaven is a LITTLE skewed by my current circumstances (and a little too much fiction). Still, while God gave me a good imagination, the things that thrill me are only things I can somewhat relate to. So, I will continue in this vein of my view of Heaven.

In my view of Heaven no one would go hungry. And there would be magnificent feasts. And you could have any food that you truly love. And unlike on Earth, you wouldn’t become easily discontent. Like tonight, I had a cheeseburger and then I thought I wanted a candy bar, too. I wasn’t even hungry anymore but I thought I wanted one. In Heaven, you’d already be content so you wouldn’t even think about needing the candy bar. But, of course, there still would be candy bars.

I would also probably have a flying horse or two. Who wouldn’t? And a faithful dog and a reasonable cat. Maybe even a panther or something. And since it’s Heaven, he wouldn’t want to eat me or anything.

I like to think that I will have a specific purpose in Heaven. I don’t like to be idle, so I hope God has a plan for each of us. I don’t really buy the harp-on-the-cloud-image that someone came up with.

Another thing is, I would be able to read in Heaven. I think there would be so many incredible things to read in Heaven. Maybe there will be books on Creation from Heaven’s perspective. Or there could be truths to Science that were never discovered by humans. There would also be tales of martyrs, angels and of Jesus coming to Earth. I think there might be an angel keeping track of everything that has ever happened. That would be worth reading.

Better than anything mentioned yet, would be the chance to see all of the people I met in life. It would be such a wonderful reunion. I am sure that there will be crying. Grand happy tears of FINALLY understanding and loving each other without sin getting in the way. And I would sit with them for decades and ask them what life was like for them, and ask them what it was like to see their faith come to fruition. And then I would ask them what they felt like when they finally heard the words, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” We would also discuss God’s endless grace. How many times He forgave us. How foolish we once were, and how easily blinded we were in every single moment of our stupid little lives. But, we will rejoice in that, because God, in his love, extended mercy where our meager attempts didn’t add up. We will really be full of gratitude, but not full of guilt.

And the best part of all. The VERY best part of ALL, will be that we will be in the presence of God. Where faith gives way to seeing, and a long arduous journey brings us to a good end. And we will no longer be tempted to sin, but can live in perfect communion with the One we love the most. This part is so much bigger than I am, so much grander than anything I can imagine, that I really can’t find the words to describe it. But, that would definitely be the very best part of all.

I will entitle this blog post: “Why I like the flawed characters.” Or “How I relate to annoying characters.”

Exhibit A: Emma Woodhouse from, of course, Emma. (Jane Austen)

                       Emma is completely covered in imperfections. She’s judgmental, conceited, and a classist.

Exhibit B: Taran: The Assistant Pig Keeper from, The Prydain Chronicles. (Lloyd Alexander)

                        Let’s be honest. At times Taran was downright annoying. I mean come ON. Grow up already! He wasn’t even my favorite character, and yet, I wanted him to succeed. And, I was not only intrigued by his story, I was also reluctantly empathetic (notice I did not say sympathetic).

Exhibit C: Rachel Berry from Glee. (Fox)

                        Annoying, right? They even describe her that way in the show. She’s selfish, self-important, intense, and is also ironically, insecure. She is easily blinded by her desires and pursuit of fame. But, despite these obvious flaws, she is my favorite character on the show, and easily the one I relate to the most. (This synopsis is centered only on the first two seasons of Glee because I have Netflix and can only watch the seasons after-the-fact.)

                      

                         I considered including Rudolph and the Misfits from Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, but Rudolph really doesn’t apply to this. His character is a shining example throughout the whole story. While I love a good underdog misfit story (and relate to them as well), I’m focusing on the characters that are far from perfect in regards to their personality.

                        So what makes me relate to Emma? Why is she my favorite of Austen’s heroines? Elizabeth Bennett is easily more likeable. In fact, I think she is generally rated the most liked of the women. And who wouldn’t want to be like her? She’s noble and upright, true to herself, and bold. (She’s also willing to go against social norms, which could be considered a fault in her time period, but is hailed as a great attribute in the 21^st century). If you think about it, Elizabeth has very few faults and she pretty much always makes the right decision.  I think that’s probably why I relate to Emma more. Being flawed myself, it’s comforting reading about someone who begins overcoming her faults. Also, she is able to find love despite and because of her imperfections. That was a comfort to (pre-married) me who had doubts about that concept.

                        Taran the Wanderer. He was pretty much the ideal coming-of-age character set in a fantasy/myth series. When I was a kid and read these books, I appreciated that he wasn’t like most fantasy novel heroes: perfect in every way eveb if they lacked experience; perfectly noble, heroic, loving and selfless. Taran longed for recognition. He wanted to be considered a hero but was instead in charge of a rogue pig. He was taught through humility to be a real hero, but it took pretty much the whole series for him to reach that point. Coming-of-age stories are still very close to my heart. I’m not sure if it’s because I never fully grew up, or because no one really stops “coming of age.” At any rate, I could envision myself in his position. Yearning for something greater in life, yet being stuck chasing an ungrateful pig. Fortunately for him there was much more happening than he realized. Still, I easily felt like that when I was a kid (even now when I am changing diaper after diaper after…)

                        And why, may you ask, do I like Rachel Berry? On my first run through of Glee I liked her, but often found it painful to watch her be selfish or fail socially because of her own conceit. I watched the second season and began on the first again, and I have to say, she really is my favorite character. This time watching it, I am downright proud of her when she makes the right decision. For instance, when she allows someone else to have the spotlight I give a little sigh of relief (this is of course incredibly difficult for her given her personality). She has big dreams, but she is also very insecure. I think that I can often be this way. Half fully driven, half my biggest enemy. In high school I never considered myself one of the “pretty girls” (which was probably true, and didn’t help that I was too shy to talk to anyone). Rachel portrays this insecurity to a fault. She assumes she is less than Quinn and the other Cheeri-os in regards to looks, and everything that goes with that. She has jealousy issues and with this mindset does some pretty tasteless things. Yet, she truly does try to become a better person and her growth is palpable through the series. Even her relationship with Finn becomes more real and based on her love for him, not just for herself (though she does many unlikable things through this process as well).

            Although these characters can often cause me frustration and second-hand embarrassment, I love them. I love that they aren’t held back by their own misgivings, and that they even make attempts to grow past them. I love that their weaknesses can be turned into their strengths, and I love that they are always pushing forward with refined tenacity.

1 Peter 1:6-7

In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. 7 These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.

                        

When I was born I was so surprised I didn't talk for a year and a half.

It was 4 o’clock in the afternoon and I was sitting on the floor minding my own business. I was just paying the bills. I had one bill left when I noticed it. Nothing I had ever felt before, naturally, but it came none-the-less. At this point the baby’s room was in disarray; there wasn’t even a mattress in the crib. I had a checklist of items to take to the hospital, but nothing packed.

                        I called Ned and said: I think my water broke.

                        I called the hospital and they said: We’ll have the doctor call you.

                        I called my Mom and she said: You should eat something before you go to the hospital.

                        Dr. McCoy called and said: You may have peed yourself and not noticed, that sometimes happens with pregnant women.

                        Dr. McCoy called again and hour later and said: You better come in.

                        I said: Can I have dinner first?

                        By the time I arrived at the hospital I was full of embarrassment but not food. I couldn’t bear to eat much. No one had really told me how inconvenient it was to have your water break outside of the hospital. The first nurse started making arrangements to see if it was really my water that broke and not just a strange continual bladder leak. She was nearly frantic and told me that she sincerely hoped it was not amniotic fluid. I took comfort, despite her urgency, which I can only assume was Heaven-sent.                      

                        Finally after several tests they confirmed what we already knew: Jack was on his way 5 weeks early. Translation: I would not be having my baby in Indiana, PA.

                       

                        Since I was not dilated at all I missed my one opportunity to fly in a helicopter to Pittsburgh. Instead, they ordered an ambulance to come. Since our parents could drive our vehicle to the hospital, Ned and I were able to ride in the ambulance together.  The ambulance drivers arrived an hour or so later to take us on our trip (my first ambulance ride to date). Surprisingly, one of the women to come was a girl that I had met at orientation at IUP. Her name was Jess Lucas and it was a blessing to see her again. The other woman’s name was Jane. Jane was about 6’ tall and had a personality to match it.

                        As we were driving to the hospital, Ned and Jess up front and Jane and I in the back, I learned that Jane lived down the road from where I grew up. She vaguely knew of me, and I of her. She lived on the property that painted their barn to look like a cow, if you happen to live close to Brush Valley. She told me that she loved music and told me stories about other people she had taken care of in the past. When my mild contractions began she kept talking through them to distract me.

                        When we arrived at West Penn Hospital they wheeled me into the biggest birthing room I have ever seen. It was probably the length of my house, which may not be that impressive when thinking of houses, but when thinking of delivery rooms is luxury luxury luxury. I remember that the floors were dark and the television was the whole way across the room (which was longer than it was wide) making it difficult to watch.

                        I met the nurse named Amy and she told me that I was no longer allowed to get up from the bed, even to pee. GASP. Any amount of dignity that I was attempting to clutch hold of was at this point thrown into the wind like chaff. My parents and Ned’s parents left us (though I don’t think they left the hospital) through the major part of the night. I originally wanted to birth the baby naturally. This made me want to chuck something violently at the doctor on staff who would come into the room during my worst contractions to ask me if I was ready for my epidural yet.

                        I waited until her shift was over, and it was about 8 o’clock in the morning, to finally accept some kind of medicine. Originally I only okayed the Stadoll, but then I thought, what the heck, let’s get the whole deal. I was so tired by this point that I no longer wanted to brace myself for the pain. I just wanted to sleep, which is what the Stadoll supplied, despite the fact that I saw spots, bees and kittens playing under the furniture. Right as the drug was beginning to take effect a woman came in to discuss what concerns they had for Jack after he was born. A baby at 35 weeks sometimes still lacks the final crucial part of their body’s development – their lungs. I was far too sleepy and dopey to respond to her and only listened partially as I swept in and out of consciousness.

                        When I woke up again they told me that it was time for my epidural. The anesthesiologist told me what he was doing but I doubt I listened much because the only thing I said was, “Are you from the South?” At that point I realized I needed to keep my mouth shut because I was still under the influence of Stadoll. The epidural was the greatest relief and kept me comfortable until Jack decided to enter the world.

                        Jack Westley Brooks Kimmel was officially born at 3:15 PM on September 24, 2010 in the presence of about 10 hospital employees, Ned and my Mom (that big delivery room was full of people). I will spare some of the details here of the events that took place directly after his birth. Suffice to say that they were pretty frightening and in a way that I was simply not prepared for. Despite the hospital staff’s gentle warnings, I still did not expect anything to be wrong with Jack at all.

                        Once I was able to leave the delivery room we went to visit little Jack in the NICU. Nothing could have prepared me for the emotions I felt after seeing him hooked up to monitors and living in an isolette. Of course it didn’t help that I was exhausted from labor, but I’m sure my emotions would have been stretched regardless. I sat in my wheelchair in front of the NICU nurse and cried – and I mean literally – uncontrollably. It was somewhat embarrassing to show such emotion in front of a stranger, but like I said, I didn’t have much shame to hold on to by this point (not that I could have stopped if I had).

                        Ned and I returned to our hospital room, exhausted, forlorn and feeling an absolute unconditional love for our baby that neither of us had experienced before. I probably would have spent the rest of the night weeping, sobbing and falling into an emotional depression if God hadn’t sent us a sense of peace that could truly only come from Him. I told Ned that this was something that he and I needed to be together on, because events like this could either bring us closer together or it could rip us apart. Ned agreed, and I can gratefully state that our marriage came out infinitely stronger than before.

                        That night in the hospital room I was feeling homesick and a little disoriented. I wanted my bed and my house, and for goodness’ sakes, I wanted a shower. I got on our laptop to remind me a little of our normal routine. I received an e-mail that night that could not have been sent at a better time. I know that this was another message from God, as well as a sentiment from the heart of another mother. This woman who I didn’t even know, sent me an e-mail describing that she too had been through what we were now experiencing. She also had a baby boy 5 weeks early. She wrote: We felt extremely unprepared (we were baby idiots and probably would have been unprepared even if he had gone full-term), but the early arrival and attendant health issues compounded that immensely.  He was so tiny and helpless, and I felt the weight of much responsibility for his well-being once he came home from the hospital.  I remember telling my mom, “You didn’t tell me that once you have a baby it’s like your heart is out there every moment with the potential to get stomped on!” She also told me that her son was now a freshman in college. She said that he was a tall young man with an extremely hearty appetite who was going to be a doctor and was on the college’s swimteam. Reading over her message and remembering that night still brings tears to my eyes. How dear was that woman, and how good was God to put it on her heart to write.

                        The other thing that helped that night, which may seem insignificant but really wasn’t, was Ned putting on some music in our room. As soon as I heard this song, with these lyrics, I felt some kind of burden taken from me:

  Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my Ma & Pa

Not the way that I do love you

Holy roly, me, oh my, you’re the apple of my eye

Girl, I’ve never loved one like you

Man, oh man, you’re my best friend, I scream it to the nothingness

There ain’t nothin’ that I need…

Ahh, Home

Let me come Home

Home is wherever I’m with you

 Looking back on those days all I can be is humble, reflective, and thankful. And now, with my little Jack Bean Baby turning 1 year old, I am so inexpressibly grateful for him and for the way he blesses Ned and I daily. Thank you God for this happy, healthy and even cute, little boy. I couldn’t ask for a better son.

"To love would be an awfully big adventure." Peter Pan

I love food. 



















I don’t just love eating food, either. I actually like cooking it. I also happen to love growing it. Recently I have become interested in preserving it, which has led me down a rabbit hole of discovery. Apparently there’s a whole movement of people that are putting up food – drying, freezing, canning. I have a pile of books ordered for me at the library all describing how you can live on a few acres of land and feed a family of four. This has led to my recent post on Facebook about wanting to grow my own wheat. I guess to me there has always been something romantic about living off the land.

It’s strange the discoveries I have made post-beginning of motherhood. There are certain dreams of mine that I’ve either forsaken or postponed, but there are others that I have developed postpartum. I would love to go back to college, for instance, and I still think about becoming a Veterinarian. I want to travel the world and I want to write novels and I want to do a whole slew of things. For now, though, my focus is taking care of the needs of my burgeoning family. I really enjoy this role, and though there are days when I think: Am I really doing something big or important right now? I know that there are endless benefits to raising healthy children and caring for my husband.

So now I need to realize my next food conquest. Is it moving south so I can grow an olive orchard (and press my own olive oil!)? Or is it growing a wheat field in my back yard? I suppose I could try to raise bees or chickens. Perhaps as our children grow older my focus will take another direction and we will start keeping horses and breeding prize-winning foals. Or maybe our kids will become deeply involved in the art world and we’ll have our very own camera crew. I may be lost in the dust a little if we have somehow spawned mathematicians but no matter what the outcome – I’m excited for the adventure ahead of us.