Monday, Monday....

Mondays always feel like a fresh start, getting back into the daily routine, doing laundry, tidying the house. We've made it through the morning and the kids are settled down quietly for their rest time. Alethea sleeps and Peregrine plays, reads books, listens to stories in his room. And me? I try to relax, usually spend some time on the computer, read, listen to Our Life in Christ podcasts, clean, etc.
Here's a bit of what's going on with us:

• Some have asked how I'm doing these days. Physically I'm fine. Because this miscarriage happened so early in the pregnancy there wasn't the loss of blood I had last time. Emotionally I feel mostly like I'm doing okay. It all happened so quickly that it seems surreal. It's still been very hard, but God is a comfort. I hope to find a doctor who will do some tests to try to figure out if there's a reason my body isn't sustaining the pregnancies. We really want to have more children, and I'm trying not to assume that something is wrong with me now, but it's hard not to worry. I'm making a baby quilt in honor and memory of our two babies who have gone on before us.
  
• I was going to write Peregrine's name on a paper yesterday and asked him to make the P since he knows how to write that one. Just out of curiosity I asked if he could write an E. He did, and proceeded to write every letter in his name as I told them to him! I knew he could recognize his letters, but had no idea he could write them!
  
• We just got two mushroom kits from Fungi Perfecti, along with a book on fungi. We'll be growing a patch of Shiitake mushrooms and a patch of Espresso Oysters. (Their called that because they like to grow in espresso and coffee grounds.) I'm excited to learn more about fungi, watch our mushrooms grow, and eat them!
  
• And, just for fun, guess what I found in Alethea's diaper the other day? A bright green, butterfly shaped barrette! Just when I thought I could leave those in her hair without her eating them. Always an adventure!
  
• Okay, and while I'm on the subject of poop, Peregrine is so proud of his. I'm guessing/hoping this is pretty normal for a four year old boy. Comments like "Mom, look! I made three snakes today!" and "That one looks like a cannonball!" are pretty common around here. My favorite, though, was "Mom, I just did the most courageous poop!" I'm not sure what made it courageous, but there you have it.
  

Here's wishing each of you a lovely week, full of joy, surprises, and maybe even some courageous poop!

(I can't believe I'm writing about poop. And that is seems perfectly normal. Is this what having kids does to a person who generally has some decency?)

Compassion

Peregrine is all boy. Rough and Tumble, Snakes and Snails, Wildness and War-Woops. I often shake my head in wonder at my little man. I'm thankful for the differences between the genders but that sure doesn't mean I understand them! I'm glad though, that he also is very sweet and that God is developing in him a heart of compassion. Of course there are the moments he races like a whirlwind, knocks his sister down, and races on, apparently unaware. And there are even moments that he's just plain mean to her; he's human after all. Lately though, I've been encouraged to see his tenderness toward others in a couple of incidences. It makes me think that something is getting through!
One bitter cold day we drove past a man standing on a corner holding a cardboard sign and Peregrine asked us what it said. We told him "Stranded: Anything will help" and what that meant. Without hesitation he said "I have an idea. We'll go home and make some lunch. And then we'll pack some up and drive back here and give him some lunch. That's my idea." Well, you can hardly argue with an idea like that! We hurried home and did as he had said, warming up some soup and packing a nice lunch for this man. He and Erik left to make their delivery only to find he'd moved on, much to Peregrine's, and our, disappointment. They even tried again later in the day, but again he was not there. We've talked a lot about the story Jesus told of the sheep and the goats, and how what we do for the least we are really doing for our Lord. And I believe that even though we weren't able to feed this man, Christ was blessed by Peregrine's offering.
Later that same day, I skinned a knuckle on the cheese grater. (Yes, you'd think I'd have learned not to do that by now!) When Peregrine saw the tiny amount of blood he immediately knew what to do- he raced to the bathroom in his imaginary ambulance, climbed up on the counter, grabbed a band-aid and some ointment, and raced back to bandage up my "wound". He did it like a pro, and with a heart full of love, although at that moment I felt like it was my heart that would burst.
When I read the Gospels I'm always struck by that little line that occurs several times- that Jesus was "moved with compassion". He didn't just see people and feel badly for them; he was moved to do something about it. I want to emulate Him in that, and I hope that my children will share in His compassion as well. Sometimes I feel discouraged at how little progress seems to be made in certain areas, and I wonder if any of the good we try to put in to Peregrine is getting through. But when these moments happen we get to see a glimpse of God working in this little heart and we're spurred on to continue, to not grow weary in doing and teaching what is good. Today is the day to sow and water and we trust God that the harvest will follow.

Photo by Michael Dubiner of duby.com.

Tea for Two

I had tea with a lovely lady yesterday. I found her perfectly charming even though she spilled tea on her dress several times, tried to drink directly from the teapot, talked with her mouth full, and stole my cake when I wasn't looking. There aren't too many people who could get away all of that and still leave me dreaming of our next 'tea' together.
Here's to many more tea parties together my Poppy Joy girl!

Loss Revisited

This week has difficult. After going through a very hard miscarriage in September I was happy to find out I was pregnant again. It was exciting and a little scary too, hoping, praying, trying not to give in to fear, to believe, or at least to hope, that it would be fine this time. Just a week after learning I was pregnant I started having some bleeding and, having known of lots of people who've had that, hoped it would pass. But it continued to get heavier and blood tests have confirmed very low hormone levels. We have loved and said goodbye to another baby.
I have so many questions, mostly why? Why me? Why again? I'm healthy and strong, and even getting pregnant earlier than I had planned was long enough according to "them". (And obviously long enough according to God!) This baby was a gift from Him, even though I only got to hold it in my womb for such a short time. It's so hard to walk through this again, but I'm not given a choice in that. My choice is in how I respond- will I become bitter and angry that life isn't fair, that life is so full of pain? By God's grace and mercy, I will not. I pray that this will make me a little more like my precious Savior, a little more loving, a little more humble, a little more compassionate and aware of the suffering of others.
In the last few days my Bible reading has brought me to Matthew 11:28-30 where Jesus says "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." I am weary and burdened and these words are for me. I have cried out to Him that this doesn't feel like an easy yoke; I have begged Him to be gentle with me. And I have to trust that He is, even when my burden feels too heavy to bear. I have to remember, in faith, that He is walking alongside me, sharing in my pain and ministering strength and healing to me both through His Spirit and through His people, or family and friends. And as we walk this road together I hope I become more like the One who shares this yoke, gentle and humble in heart. I am just now reminded that the meaning of my name, Rebeca, is "yoked with God".
My mind scurries a hundred places- to the not-so-distant past and the memory of losing Esther. To my two babies now together in heaven in the presence of Jesus and all the saints who've gone before us, and the angels. I am comforted that they are Home, that they are spared the pain and sadness of this earth. But there are arms aching to hold them here. I think of the two I have here on earth, the ones I've been given to hold and care for; how precious is each moment with them. Looking to the future, I wonder if I will be able to have any more. What if something is wrong with my body? My first two pregnancies were so healthy; has something changed? How can this possibly be used for good? What is God's purpose in allowing this to happen again? Could I have prevented it? Is there anything I can do to keep it from happening again? How many times can a person go through this before they just give up?
I cling to hope; I cling to God Himself. He has not left or forsaken me, though at times I feel desolate.
Thanks to all who are praying for us during this time. God hears and is a very present help in this time of our trouble.

Anniversary

That was then: January 12, 2002

This is now.

We've lived and loved together for five years now. Does our life look like I thought it would? Not exactly! Has it been good? Most definitely. We've shared many joys and a few trials; we've made lots of memories together, and I look forward to making many more.

An Ode to Snow

I awake to a world wintry white
With silver sun softly shining.
Snowy silence, stillness, softness,
I stand alone; listening, looking.
Feathery branches lightly frosted,
Flakes gently falling, finding their places.
Chattering children
Playing, rolling, building, throwing, tasting
Snow.

Moments

A few favorite moments from the last few days:

Who says you can't build a snowman with only an inch of snow!

King Peregrine helping his Queen with her Royal Slipper.

More Peregrine-isms

"Mom, I was in my rest when the sun, "convealed by clouds", broke through and shone so brightly!"

Lying in a patch of sunlight (and apparently picking his nose.) "I have two boogers. Don't they shine in the sunlight! Don't they shine beautifully!"

We were reading a rebus story that had a cardinal in it. One picture showed only the wings, and when I paused and pointed, waiting for him to say "wings" he instead said "beautiful red wings".

Upon building a Wedgit creation that he was particularly pleased with: "Look at this one! Isn't it encharming!"

On a bicycle ride with Daddy, they saw an airplane. Erik told him that the lines it left were called contrails. Peregrine asked what "con" meant and Erik explained that it means "with". Peregrine said "So it means "with trails"?"

And finally, a poem that he pulled out of his head one day:

"A man was in the teapot and he shouted out to me,
I didn't answer him and I went and got a flea.
I came to the teapot and I picked him out,
And I put him back in and he wasn't very shout!"

(I asked him what "wasn't very shout" meant and he said it meant that he wasn't shouting. Aha! He said the whole thing in a rather singsong-y voice with a lot of rhythm.)

I know I'm his Mama, and totally and completely biased, but I think he's pretty amazing and smart for a four-year old!

Peregrine-the-Pooh

I think this conversation with Peregrine this morning is a result of him listening to his Winnie-the-Pooh tapes:

Peregrine: I was going to sneak up into the larder and find some honey because I had that sinking feeling in my tummy. And I knew what it meant.
Mama: Did it mean you were hungry?
Peregrine: Yep. Those cupboards are the larder.

Ahhh, I love that boy/bear. (And yes, he really thought I ought to let him eat honey for breakfast. And no, I didn't. Mean old Mama bear!)

That Glorious Song of Old

As children on the frozen prairies of Alberta we weren't often exposed to secular Christmas holiday songs. We sang the hymns/carols at church, often every verse of them. (I remember my excitement when the song leader would announce that we would only sing stanzas 1, 2, and 5! We went to a little country church with a little purple-haired lady who played the organ. Slowly.) My Mom loved O Holy night and I could never figure out why- it was the one that an older man always sang as a "special number" and it was a bit too operatic and long in my little mind. It was Silent Night that moved my Dad to tears.

Over the years I've grown to love these songs and the joy and hope they proclaim so eloquently. I especially love the ones that don't just focus on the birth of Christ, but on His mission to rescue fallen humanity. "Light and life to all He brings, Risen with healing in His Wings" gives me goosebumps. I spent Christmas of 2000 in Varanasi, India. Christmas Eve we joined a group of resident missionaries for a potluck and time of singing and celebration. When we sang Silent Night I cried, thinking of my family across the world, singing those same familiar words about our Holy Savior. I was in a culture that openly worships idols, living among a people who desperately needs to to see the Light and Life of Jesus. Too often I have sat through Christmas services with the tears rolling down my face. Why are we still so broken when One came to make us whole? Where is the peace on earth? The joy and hope that came to us in a tiny Baby stir up the longing that He will someday return.

As the Christmas season comes to an end I find the words of It Came Upon A Midnight Clear still floating through my mind. I love how it moves from the Holy Birth so long ago to the present time and then looks forward to the fulfillment of all things, to the new heaven and the new earth. Through it all we are reminded of the angels who worship the King Eternal and the hope we have of heaven. This verse in particular seems to draw me:

O ye beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow;
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.

How often I feel like one of those whose form in bending low, who is toiling along in this life's journey. It is not that I've been given an unusually difficult path to walk. The joys have been many and the trials few, but there is a weight to this life. And I think I'm beginning to recognize it as something given by God, not to burden me, but to to make me long for heaven, something to remind me that all I know here is not really what I've been created for. As comfortable and happy as I seek to be here, and generally am, I will never be fully satisfied. I love the image of resting beside the weary road and listening to the angels sing. When I hear it I'm reminded that it's exactly what I need to do; sit, rest, listen, allow myself to be lifted above the cares of this life. And that brings me naturally back to a place of hope:

For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophets seen of old,
When with the ever-circling years
Shall come the time foretold,
When the new heaven and earth shall own
The Prince of Peace, their King,
And the whole world send back the song
Which now the angels sing.

Even so, come Lord Jesus!