Rise and Swine

May 23, 2020, I woke to a miracle surrounding a loved one. Later, I sat in the gardens watching butterflies perch upon lavender lilacs while my Sweet Shalom giggled and chased after them. It had been a perfect day. The air was warm, but the skies overcast like a storm was about to roll in.   Life changes quickly...    The message flashed on the screen.        Wait - he's gone? Dear...I don't know what to call you, I've always wondered, with the slamming of the prison door, did you know what your choices would cost your children? Did you care?  My grandpa knew you as a kid. He was your pastor, said your parents were good people. He said you were a good kid too, but somewhere along the journey you lost your way.    You lost your way... and I was one of many that paid for your choices.      One of my last visits with you left me with a shoulder injury. The physical pain is a reminder that children should never have to v...

 Written 2/18/21 February - I would be delighted if this month never existed. In reality it’s the shortest of the year, but each day can feel tormenting to walk through...this week in particular.    2/18/10 was the day we found out those 2 little ones we planned to adopt would never be ours.  The room we had made in our hearts would remain empty.  The crib empty.  The clothes newly washed and hanging were packed back into tubs. Closet and drawers empty. Dreams lost.  Hearts shattered. 2/16/17 was Miriam’s due date. Instead of snuggling and breathing in a fresh babe our perfect girl lay cradled in dirt.  She would have been 4 this year...4.  It’s the first year Kai didn’t remember...didn’t ask to make her birthday cupcakes or take her flowers.  I didn’t remind him.  His little heart needs to heal and move on.  As her mom, I’ll never forget. Even though I move forward a part of my heart was lost, and I will never be the same. 2/1...

That mischievous red-head...he knows my heart. He tromps in on a December noon...hands me a brown paper bag and tells me to peek inside. He's gotten me something. Paper whites - six of them. Well, at the moment they're just bulbs but soon they will grow into those gorgeous blooms. He knows I love to grow things...love seeing the earthy roots dangle about...love having a sprinkle of life in the midst of winter. I walk to the kitchen. Pull the vessel from above and force the delicate roots into a stony foundation. I fill it with water, just enough for the roots thirst to be quenched, and place them next to a window but days later - nothing.  A few more days go by - still nothing. Upon inspection the bulbs had molded.  "Throw them out. They're useless now." He says in a frustrated tone. Everything seems hurried to this young man.  He gets it from me.  But age, and time, and heartache, teaches patience.  I wait.  Maybe all they need is a bit of time? Per...

Buying this farm has been an adventure...a long awaited dream come true...we've been given our hearts desire...and I don't take it for granted. Everyday I wake thankful for what God has given us, but it requires a ton of work and most nights I fall in a heap of exhaustion from it all. In our 25 years of marriage we've called four places home. When we got married we lived in my grandparents basement for exactly five months. Dreaming of a place of our own, I brought my man to a 1890's farmhouse. It had charm galore. A beautiful front porch with columns, moldings, attic rooms, a winding staircase to the second floor, claw foot tub, root cellar, floor to ceiling windows, and of course a horse stable. I was in love! It was perfect. Except - it was trashed! My man took 2 steps up that winding staircase and his foot went right through. That claw foot tub was about to crash through the kitchen ceiling. The electrical was in conduit on the outside of the walls. "Why ar...

Written a few years ago. I've been a mom for almost 24 years now. No one told me the hardest part would be when my children grew up. I remember the sleepless nights of crying babes, the never-ending poop and laundry, the chaotic days of having 4 little ones underfoot. I remember the guilt that I wasn't doing anything right or enough. The moments behind the locked bathroom door with faucet running so no one would hear my sobs.  I remember... The season I find myself in now is strange. With two grown children already gone, two more on the way out the door, a pre-teen, preschooler, and toddler, I now have a different perspective than I did so long ago. Now, when I scoop up those precious little ones my heart aches a bit in knowing the hard part is yet to come. I stand at the sink washing dinner dishes when he hugs me - towers over me. That little boy I used to wrap in my arms now wraps me in his man-sized frame. It's been this way for years, but I never get used to it. ...

These two are precious! Although, I must admit I much prefer her hands in bread dough rather than her being covered from head to toe in Karo syrup. When you hear two young children laughing their heads off - run because they’re into something! Lazy dogs waiting for some crumbs. Until the n... Jessie

When your belly should be swelling with excitement...but your babies lay under blankets of snow. When mothers should be mothers...but you’ve been orphaned for as long as you can remember. When children are torn from family - nothing more than collateral damage. When a loved one sits in a PSYCH Ward - they decided it was all too much. When another you love more than anything won't step off the path of self-destruction. When your child’s heart breaks...it breaks your own in a way you never imagined. When a "friend” hugs you for all to see, but has taken every opportunity to stab you in the back to climb the ladder of position. When one who doesn’t know you at all, speaks of who you are and who you’re not - despite how wrong they are, you’ll forever be trapped in the box of their perceptions. When you go to get the dogs...only to find your favorite one has died. When in the middle of it all, you’re supposed to make Christmas for your favorite people...in 2 days. When y...

Psalm 23 was the first passage of scripture I memorized. I remember I was four, and I had both the honor as well as the terror of reciting it in front of hundreds of pastors. My grandpa had worked with me for countless hours to not only memorize but understand each word. There was one part that no matter how hard I tried I mixed up...to this day I still stumble at the same place. However, that morning staring into the sea of faces every word rolled off my tongue perfectly (Well, except for the fact that I couldn't say Lord so it came out Lerd.). My grandpa was a precious man. I miss him everyday but I still feel him with me. For the things he taught are engraved upon my heart. I feel like God may have given him special insight into all that I would face. Through the dark seasons my heart has been shattered, searching, angry, confused but when God's words come to remembrance they have always breathed life, healing, clarity, and peace. I've taught my children scriptur...

Wednesday, September 5, 2018 at 3:04 a.m. I sit - alone. The earth weeps and so do I. Oh, how my heart aches! August 3, 2016 we cradled your sister, Miriam, in dirt. August 3, 2018 we found out we were having you! For 734 days we prayed for you. No. Begged God for you! He gave us what we ask..but we were not ready to give you back so soon. Your delivery was agonizing and exhausting. Still, I'm grateful to have felt every contraction. Those were the last hours I had with you...the special thing only you and I could share. And in some odd way the physical pain helps my heart make sense of it's pain. When my water broke, I knew losing you was inevitable. I hoped and prayed to deliver you at home but after 8 hours the rapid blood loss sent me into shock. Your dad managed to get me in the car and race to the ER were we spent part of the night. The one place I didn't want to be. Yet, every person we encountered was so kind and compassionate. Every. ...

He's eighteen. It was just a moment ago that he was my sweet, chubby, curly-crowned toddler. Clutching tightly to the hem of my dress he followed my every step. All day. Every. Day. More times than I can count I've placed him in that sink to scrub away the dirt...reached out to grab hold of another love bouquet...glued together the bread necklace that kept losing pieces - I wore it proudly anytime I went out. I've cleaned up cheese and Oreos he left in the most unexpected places. Watched the thrill spread his face as he opened a box of tap lights...learned to ride a unicycle...got his license. I've grabbed on for dear life as he spun me around country roads in a yellow truck named Buttermilk...and I've listened to that singing Billy Bass until I knew I was going to be committed. He's always been the one who found joy in the peculiar. Always the one who got me - and made me roar with laughter. We're so much alike and yet very different. Now we're he...

I hear her dancing in the wind...beckoning me to come outside...feel the rain upon my face...but do I dare? I've watched from the pane as she stood ablaze in autumns glory - slowly letting go of each brilliant hue. Watched while her limbs bent low through the long winter - burdened by the very thing that sustained. Watched while pops of green unfurled - life once again. I've surveyed from the window, but to go and meet her? The soil that she feeds upon cradles my child and I can't bring myself to go there. It's been a year since my baby opened her eyes and looked into the face of Jesus...while I held her tiny frame here on earth. Miriam Grace. She has a name. My name. The name I was given while in Israel - what my grandparents and family always called me. Miriam: Bitter, Sea of sorrow, Longed for or wished for child. Grace: God's favor. She was God's favor to me. Losing her has been bitter. My heart has been filled with sorrow and longing but...

As the earth drank I sat silently on the other side of the pane, wrapped in the stiff cotton some soul before had taken their last breath in. All the while praying for that little one I soon would meet. On a stormy July eve, the time had finally come. Stretching out my hands I grabbed hold of our tiny gift. Malakai. I knew his name long before he was ever conceived. Given at the perfect time - he's my angel. Our answered prayer. From that first moment, he had my heart. No one could love him more...no one but Jesus. I remember the first time my belly gripped hard. Ages ago. Paralyzing pain. Lying down I had no strength. Yet I fought against each contraction from this posture. Stiffening and forgetting to breathe. I've learned after all these babes what needs to be done. The nurse, puzzled when she came to check on me. "Why do you sit up like that? Would it not be easier to lay down?" She inquired. I smiled politely but I've learned. So I remained sitting upri...

When your baby is curled under the barren tree and your soul resembles that tree more than you would like to admit...too many needing...wanting...there's nothing left to give...It becomes easy to drown in the darkness. When it's Christmas Eve and the house is a mess, there's still shopping left to do, Christmas dinner to prepare, and Gingerbread Men to bake with that chubby little boy who's growing too fast. It's easy to buzz right through the days - through Christmas - and miss everything. But when I slow down I hear it: His love and blessings for me Bedtime tickles The way she pulls me close and smothers my face with tiny kisses Fairies on pj's... and all the small ways He answered my prayers and brought her close this season Glass birds Hugs from that tall one Knowing he is right behind me...always The clanging of dishes late in the night - even though he worked all day he's doing the dishes for me at midnight Truck rides and coffee runs...ho...

Fresh powder, leaks quiet from the heavens, dressing the barren branches white. Moon's light spills across snowflakes...each one unique. Pure. Perfect. Beautiful. But soon humanity will make its mark and all that will be left is a muddied mess to gaze upon. In a matter of days the hustle and bustle of the kitchen will commence. Each soul within these walls-unique; each one bringing to the table their own scrumptious creations, gifts, brokenness. Ironstone will line the planks while hungry men in collar shirts jump into chairs and wide-eyed little ones wait for pie. We'll gobble Jell-o with cheese, argue about the correct way to smother potatoes with gravy. Votes will be cast for the annual pie contest. Laughter will ring as bellies and hearts fill. At the close of the day we may play a game of Monopoly that will last until the wee hours. But the best part will be when each one sits in the middle of the circle and words of love, grace, and life ar...

He jumps from the wagon full of wonder and excitement. This is what he's come for. Tiny sneakers sink - slip in mud and my chunky toddler topples to the wet earth. He jumps up quick. His denim now a few shades darker. But I can see the eagerness burning through those cornflower blues. Hundreds line the hem of the field but they're not what he's seeking. Up a steep slippery slope he scales. I'm trailing behind thinking I should have guzzled another cup of coffee. His eyes searching the expansive field until finally he finds it. An orange sphere with a thin, long, rough handle. The call is out. Time to head back. Quickly! We trudge our way through the never ending rows of orange but his legs only go so fast. With two bursting bags in hand, I'm unable to carry him and of course he insists on carrying his treasure which makes us all that much slower. They're yelling. Waiting just for us. We're close when he trips into the sticker vines. Wiry thorns impaling...

This post is about when I lost Miriam but it's in honor of all the babies I have in Heaven. Alexandria Joy - February 1995 Jeremiah Michael - September 2012 Hope Isabella - October 2014 Miriam Grace - July 2016 The flowers they brought sit on the counter. Untouched. They're beautiful, and I'm grateful, but they're not for pleasure they're for the dead. To touch them somehow means to accept that she's...dead. For two days they sit. Finally, one by one the stems are arranged and into that corner of my darkness they bring the beauty I needed. I know tomorrow is the day - so I curl into the cushion as if it's a mothers embrace. Lap heaped with a mess of cream and I weave a blanket for our baby to be wrapped in. Buried in. With each stitch my heart is torn right through. The loss of dreams. Nights I'll never have to hold her close. No tickles. No laughter. No kisses or prayers or bedtime stories. No unruly hair to brush in the morning. No tea pa...

Overcast. The air hangs crisp. Leaves dance beyond the pane - still summer green yet they play peek-a-boo with a hint of caramel and crimson. Autumn is upon us ushering in plump pumpkins, spiced cider, scarves, boots, woolen blankets and those brilliantly colored leaves that will soon crunch under foot. It's my favorite time of year but in my corner of the world it doesn't last long. Before I blink, the trees will stretch forth their barren limbs as white blankets the earth, and I will hibernate as much as possible. Enjoying the peaceful white from my comfortably heated home - coffee in hand. Knowing this, I always do some fall cleaning. Just like spring cleaning opens it all to new and fresh I prepare for the confinement of the dreary months ahead. I wash the windows knowing they will soon be dirty again but I want to enjoy the glistening of a winter wonderland for as long as I can. Funny how distorted our view becomes when we're looking through layers of grime. It...

I shape dough - lay into pans and cover. She walks into the kitchen and peeks under the towel. She groans. Wheat. She likes white. I ring the dinner bell, slice a loaf, and ask her to look in the cellar for some jam. Walking into the kitchen she's beaming - jar in hand. It's peach! One of her favorites. It was in the back hidden behind a sea of Apple Butter. She lets me know we're running low on the good stuff. We sit down and she brings a spoon - no knife will do. And she piles the jam thick. Several times through the next few days I see her slice through wheat and smother with summer sweetness and I giggle. She reminds me of my grandpa. Thankful for my precious girl. Until then... Jessie

I journey down country roads, beholding field after field sprinkled in sunshine petals.  Cornstalks stand to attention in perfect rows.  We're still in the last days of summer but there's this waiting - waiting for a new season, a new breath.  Autumn is crouched around the corner; I can feel it. I wash the plates from dinner while that tall one dries and I listen to his plans for the future and they don't line up with what I want.  I'm proud of him but my heart worries.  Lights go out, beds turn down, and in the black I'm left with his suffocating words. No one told me when I became a mother the hardest part would be in the letting go. The dawn greets us.  We open books, devour their contents, and I look at these faces knowing my time with them will all to soon come to an end.  So we laugh and pile on the couch and read about an ordinary woman who really was an extraordinary women.  She went from one Jewish mother to the next pleading for th...

Last week, our family received an answer to prayer. Not the answer we had hoped for.  My pregnancy had some complications. Our baby... Miriam Grace... is in Heaven now...she was so wanted and loved already. Our hearts are broken. I don't usually understand God's plan. Many times I don't like His way of doing things... I would like to write the story differently. Yet in the end I know He's God...I'm not. I know He's good... even when it doesn't feel like it. And I know He loves me and hurts with me. This song played in my mind for days before that dreadful morning.  And when the time came those four words were once again all that could be said. Maybe it will help the heart of someone else today too. I was ask by someone "why the miscarriage was an answered prayer." Some of you may have the same question. I don't believe God is a genie in a bottle. I don't believe prayer means - I give him a list of what I want and demand h...