Rise and Swine

So excited to meet our new bundle and for the busy days ahead! Until then... Jessie

On a drizzling June morn, a few weeks before they brought that sixth blessing home, she inked it upon the wall.  Scrolled it out right there above where he would sleep.  Where they had all slept.  Well, at least the last four. Photo credit: Google And everyday when she would lay him to sleep or reach to awaken him she would see it and be reminded. Reminded that each one has been a special gift that is meant to be cherished and to cherish meant to keep focused on what really matters. Even when things don't turn out as expected.  Even when the darkness comes. After she miscarried baby Hope and he left their room at nineteen months of age she almost erased it...fearing no more babes would fill that cradle or her womb but God had other plans.  Five months later she was expecting Michaela.  But the pregnancy was complicated from the start and until that little girl screamed her first breath they didn't know if she would sleep in the cradle unde...

She strolled beneath the cherry blossoms. Marveled at their beauty and remembered... On a cool April eve, her arm stretched slow across the table to pull plastic off brownies.  When the words poured out "I like your tattoo.  Does it have a special meaning?"  That familiar lump formed in her throat. "Yes, it does...it's a long story...maybe I'll tell you about it someday." Someday. If she got up enough nerve to pull the plastic off herself. It was a cool April morn, ten years before, that marked the reason for the ink upon her wrist. A beautiful spring day filled with life and promise but she didn't...couldn't... see it.  She let the words escape that morning "I don't want to live...not even for five more minutes." Her heart had been broken countless times before but each time she would bend down...pick up the shattered pieces and put it back together.  It never was the same of course.  Pieces missing here and there but overal...

I scratched it out right there upon the slate - words to live by.  But somewhere between then and nightfall I had failed every word that was written. When your wound a bit tight, have a mess of kids, and plenty of furry creatures...it can be a recipe for disaster even on a good day. BUT... When the toilet is clogged...again. The coffee maker is broken. She's crying over math lessons. They're bickering over whose turn it is to sweep the floor. Kai is screaming as he watches the dog eat his favorite car. That sweet little bundle of ours is spewing from every open cavity. Dishes and laundry are piled high. Chickens have grazed the garden. The dog's footprints dust the hardwoods...10 seconds after I've scrubbed them. Oh, yeah, dinner.  Kinda forgot about that one - soup anyone? By evening I'm spent. Of course, this means nothing to the toddler who has a complete and utter meltdown as I'm trying to take off his clothes and put on his pajamas.  He w...

She flips through that old box pulling out the stained tattered piece of parchment.  The one her dearest friend had scribbled out instructions upon.  It's one of the few tangible things she has left.  Lying it on the granite before her, she pulls from the pantry.  She labors to grind the wheat.  Runs the water paying close attention to it's temperature.  Too cold - the loaves won't rise.  Too hot - she'll kill the yeast and the loaves won't rise.  Either way she'll have bread good for nothing but pig slop.  Carefully, she stirs.  Waits.  Eventually it comes: the turning out of cool dough.  Then the work begins as she kneads the mound into something pliable.  Her hands consumed with the sticky mess.  More waiting.  Finally, the shaping of loaves.  She places them in the cast iron and lowers them into the heat until they're golden, beautiful and ring hollow.  The process takes time but it's therapeutic to...

Fifteen years apart but they're still buddies! Until then... Jessie

He told her his plan and she laughed wild. He said he could do it with such conviction. He said he had been praying and knew this was the answer God had given him. "Please, just trust me." Who can argue with that, even if fear begins to strangle. She believed in him. So they took the little they had...all they had... and bought two fifty-three foot trailers full of insulation. That was the beginning... Years before they had made a deal. Not one she liked but the deal was done. They would have one more child. Try for a girl. That was it. They got a girl. Audrey. She cradled her close... her answer to prayer and he ran fast to make sure no more little ones ran about. As time scrolled on she knew it was a mistake. She prayed hard for years that God would change his heart. Finally, He did. Once that man became a Christian he knew it was a mistake too. So they looked into a reversal but the cost - astronomical. Soon adoption fell into their laps. Excited. They began to pre...

It was my Thirtieth birthday and my mom wanted to take me out for a night on the town.  After hours of shoe shopping we had worked up some hearty appetites.  So, with bags in hand we made our way to our favorite little Mexican restaurant.  We shared those belly laughs while enjoying every bite. Until...my mom poked at her tostada.  Out from under a ribbon of lettuce a nasty umber colored critter scurried frantically across the table straight towards me!  Immediately my mom began to gag and I shrieked shoving my chair back as if I were being attacked by the creature.  Stunned.  We both watched in horror as our server, void of any emotion, picked up my ice tea and smashed the varmint with the bottom of the glass.  Quietly we sat for a moment until the reality of what just happened washed over us.  Looking up I took one glance at our servers stoic face and erupted with laughter.  Seriously.  At that point what else is there to do....

He told her to hold out her hand. He said Happy Birthday, and placed it within her palm. There it sat. Her grandmother's wedding ring. She thought it had been lost forever...  When her grandmother had died her belongings were divided among the family.  And when the one who got the ring came over for a visit, she noticed it was missing from their finger.  Inquiring where it was, they let her know it had been pawned to pay the electric bill.  " It's really not worth that much."  They declared.  This wasn't something new.  They had done things like this many times before.  As the words poured out, her heart sank.  Disbelief.  That was all she felt.  Her grandpa had designed that ring.  It represented over fifty years of marriage. Yet, it was simply discarded to pay a bill less than a hundred dollars.  There were so many other things that could have been sold...but they chose the ring.  It didn't have value to them....

When it's the 10th anniversary of the worst day of your life.  The day that stole the breath right out of you...left you bleeding and questioning everything.  BUT you wake and it's NOT the first thought.  In fact, the memories don't visit for hours...It's a good day.  Filled with God's gifts! Blue skies and snow capped mountains Warm rays of sunshine poured upon my face His kiss goodbye Smoked Butterscotch Lattes Tumbleweeds prancing across country roads with as much grace as I usually display The dog didn't puke in the car today...we're making progress His excitement when the train blew its whistle Her beaming smile as she flew out the front door from dance Walking through the door to find that tall one came home early Tickling her chunky rolls and hearing her laugh and coo Her smiles as she "talks" to her daddy Watching her sleep Cornbread smothered in butter and honey made by this one Freckled face boy gro...

I woke to her stirring.  It was unusual as she typically sleeps through the night.  Slowly I reached into her cradle but before I picked her up she began to scream.  Hysterical.  I knew what she wanted - she was hungry.  With fists clinched tight she continued to scream until she drew close and began to suck her milk.  As time passed she loosened her death grip until finally her palms fell wide upon my pillow.  Content...full...at peace...she fell asleep once more. Lying next to her I swept those fine threads of crimson...stroked that chubby cheek...kissed those wee fingers and laid her back within the confines of her cradle. I shook my head. She's like her mama in more ways than one. At times I too hold a death grip of control.  Especially if I'm hungry.  Hungry for love.  Time.  Security.  Pinterest perfection seeps in and I can make everyone living within these walls a bit crazy.  It's true....

And on the 24th year of cupids and candy and hearts she flings the window wide.  She needs a bit of fresh. It's been winter far too long but spring...new life... is panting.  Her heart awaits it and it has nothing to do with the weather. The breeze flows through that open pane like the breath of life she needs.  She stands by the bed folding his laundry and the chimes begin their dance.  A smile spreads her face...their story of the wind-chime.  On the darkest of days... he pulled her close and he whispered it right there in the dark... he had something for her.  He told her every time  it danced to remember he loved her.  He hung it from the eve outside their bedroom window where it stays year round and during the storms it dances the hardest... and never stops.  All those years later she still remembers those words.  At times, clings to those words. She closes her eyes and feels the wind graze across the nape of her neck....

It had been a rough few weeks.  As the insults kept coming from that one whose job was to nurture.  They never did.  Nurture that is.  They're not capable of that kind of love.  She knows this.  Accepted this long ago.  Still - it leaves her wounded.  Despite the pain, she walks another day the best she knows how.  Trying to be to her children what she never got herself.  Trying to keep it all in balance. But the scales of her heart tip when he grumbles impatient about laundry and with her own impatience she snaps back.  What she wanted...needed...was to hear she was good enough.  That she mattered to someone.  That she wasn't a mistake.  She didn't want to hear one more way she just didn't quiet measure up. His searing words were like salt in the wound and she barked loud like a scared wounded dog.  She was looking in the wrong place.  Only God could fill that emptiness but foolishly she pressed...

I glanced over to see where the rasping sound was coming from only to find her wee fingers entwined within the willow.  Her Moses basket is her safe place if she's not in someones arms.  It's her comfort and security, except for the braided trunk that curves with a mind of it's own.  Somehow her hand found it's loop.  Although she hates the texture she continues to grab hold and fight with it.  Exhausting herself.  Still - she fights.  She won't win.  The handle isn't going anywhere.  Eventually I turn her the other direction where she can no longer see it.  Still - it won't be long until her arm rubs against it's rough texture.  Then the fight will begin again. I do the same thing at times.  No.  I don't fight with the handle of a basket.  I fight against circumstances, people, the past, regrets...myself.  I don't like the way it makes me feel.  Yet I keep grabbing hold and wrestling.  Exhausting ...

There in the corner... it sits in all of its tattered glory. Maple marred by generations that have rested upon its arms. Its cushion torn wide exposing the matted horse hair beneath. It's ugly. But - it's comfortable. Acquired by my grandparents while they were missionaries in Mexico. It has been passed down through the ages and somehow took up residence within my walls. For over forty years it has rocked the babies in my family...my brother...myself...all seven of my gifts. We've all had our time being lulled to sleep by the rhythm of it's creak long into the wee hours. Countless prayers have poured from the lips of each mother while holding that precious babe to her chest. It's a family treasure. Yet the years have taken their toll and even though it holds wondrous memories it's an eyesore every time my eyes lay hold of it. I've decided this is the year. The year of it's makeover. It will require time. Time I don't necessarily have but I'm ...

My heart aches for the one wandering...lost for years now. So I sit in the quiet in this season of miracles praying for just that - a miracle.   My sweet girl nestled in the crook of my arm yet nothing feels right. Happy?  Joyful?  That's not what I feel.  I press my nose against hers and breathe in all that she is.  Her warm breath saturated with the aroma of soured milk brushes my nostrils and I hold on a little tighter.  These moments slip away so quickly...I want to remember this. Kai climbs into the open space of my lap...sweeps my hair back and wipes the fallen tears from my face. While "O Little Town of Bethlehem" sings from across the room and Chaela spreads a smile filled with joy. Though tears fall, I can't help but smile too.  I'm reminded that sometimes the miracle is right in front of me.  Not every season of life is easy.  Jesus never promised it would be but he did promise to always be with us and with Him we can alw...

In the eye of a storm, we sit, curled beside the twinkling of the Christmas tree.  Caressing her threads of scarlet...outlining each petite curve of that face in hopes of carving it into my memory...my finger sweeps over her silky smooth complexion as I watch her sleep. She looks like a porcelain doll cradled against my chest.  Her breath stills my heart while gratefulness leaks quietly down.  I hoped for this one. Begged for this one, long before she was ever conceived.  I know I don't deserve her - or any of the seven.  Yet right in the middle of fragmented hearts, tattered dreams, weariness, lost loved ones,  messy families, terrorism, shootings, a world gone mad. In the midst of it all is the face of a babe. Hope. Darkness visits us all.  It attempts to steal our joy, snuff out what God has planned but light always overcomes. I remember the nights spent at my uncles ranch.  Over four hundred acres in the middle of absolutely nowhere....

No words...just grateful!   Michaela Shalom Lutz 6 pounds 7 ounces 17 3/4 inches of precious Michaela: Who is like God or Gift from God Shalom: Peace, Blessing, Completeness Until then... Jessie  

Once again I find myself needing to be induced.  This time I'm not overdue. I'm actually 2 weeks early but the baby isn't growing anymore so we need to get her out. Now.  I'm sooooo unprepared...but tonight is the night.  I can't wait to meet and hold this precious, spunky, little girl! All photos taken by Jason Iron's Photography Until then... Jessie

Our newest addition to the family Rowan Xylo Lutz 8 pounds 4 ounces 21 inches of cuteness I LOVE being a grandma!!!