Elaina Joy

     

 

     It was warm outside the evening that she came. We had just went on a walk around the small town of Washburn with Isaiah our first born. He was just shy of two years old. He happily pointed to the birds. He knew how to say that word.

As I walked next to his stroller I could feel my stomach contract, so we decided to turn around. We got home just in time for the second contraction. Five minutes later the third more severe contraction came.

      I called my Dad. My parents had a Cruise scheduled to celebrate their anniversary. As he answered the phone he explained that I caught him just before they left for a tanning appointment. Trying to stay calm I told him I thought I was going into labor. I could hear my mom in the background.

"Steve, we have to cancel the tanning appointment, this baby is coming."

     Shortly after the phone call when we had my over night bag packed we got in the car with Isaiah. I felt a pinch in my heart. He would only be our baby for a few moments longer. He looked small as he held his Blue Blank, his treasured blanket in one arm and his big red stuffed Clifford dog in the other. He was thinking about the new baby.

"Baby coming," he said in his toddler babble.

   Brad and I looked at each other and smiled. We loved our little family that was about to expand. After we dropped Isaiah off at my parents house the contractions got more intense. We lived 10 miles out of town and from my parents house the hospital was another fifteen minutes. It was dark now as we drove to the other side of town. With every minute the contractions were more intense. I started to fear I wouldn't make it to the hospital at all.

    We parked in the emergency parking lot. Somehow Brad helped me to the check in desk. Luckily we didn't have to wait. The nurse brought over a wheel chair so I didn't have to walk any further because the pain was getting more unbearable.

   In the birthing room I tried to lay down on the bed but the pain in my lower back was so intense I couldn't. When the midwife came into the room she quickly assessed the situation. I will never forget how she said, "Dianne this baby is ready to be born so go for it."

    What? I am not ready, I thought. I had just arrived.
 
    Ten minutes later at 10:33 she was born, my beautiful Elaina Joy. She weighed 8.3 pounds, 21 inches. She was the same weight and length that Isaiah was when he was born. April 6th would always be a special day to me. At the first sight of her pink little face I fell in love. She had a little kitten cry. She was angry to be in the bright cold room, yet when she was placed in my arms she stopped crying. I held her close her little hand in mine. Overwhelmed I studied her adorable her little face.

"I'm going to love you dear Elaina," I whispered, tears forming in my happy eyes.
                                                             
     In a few short days my little girl will be sixteen. How time flies so quickly. I named her Elaina after the heroine in Zorro, and I added the middle name Joy because I was overjoyed when I found out I was having her.

   Her blond curls have turned auburn. She has grown from a baby to a young woman faster than I wanted. Her brown eyes are intelligent and her smile is beautiful. She is gentle with her baby brother. She is hard working and creative. She has a passion for drama, and like any teenager, really wants her own car.

   The Mission trip to El Salvador last year ignited a heart for the world. She has been working hard to earn money to go back this year to help street kids again, but now the trip is on stand by as we wait out this Virus. But I am thankful for the past few weeks to have her close, ALL THE TIME.

    Okay, I sound like a needy mom.And let's be honest, I am. It takes a lot of energy, prayers, patience, and perseverance to raise a child up to this point. I HAVE GRAY HAIR FOLKS! But having a daughter is worth far more than any cost.

     Elaina Joy whatever you do in life I will be here cheering you on. Whom ever you become I will be your prayer partner, the shoulder to cry on, and the coach in your corner encouraging you to go on. From the moment I first laid eyes on you in the hospital room sixteen years ago I knew that you would change my life, but I had no idea how fun this life would be with you by my side. 

    I am joyful not because you are perfect or because we get a long all the time. I am joyful because you are a precious and rare gift and for this little time that I have right now, I get to inspire you everyday. I pray I don't miss this opportunity.

 




     

Precious Moments

     

      To sit in Daddy's lap to a two year old is like sitting on a throne of regal strength and confidence. At least that is what my little Judah's face expresses. These days he talks about Incredible Hulk as he perches on his Daddy's knee. He roars as he hangs on Daddy's shoulder. He sings super hero songs spontaneously as he leans into his Father's muscly chest. 

    Judah's fascination with his Dad can be overwhelming at times.  There is no place in the house that Brad can go that Judah doesn't follow quickly behind. Judah's eyes are always on the look out for his Father. From the time he was an infant Judah has wanted to be mighty just like his daddy.

    Life with a two year old is full of Baby Shark, Pull-ups, and goldfish crackers. It is continual episodes of spilled Sippy cups and wet training pants. With my fourth child, eleven years younger than his closest sibling I have learned not to sweat the little things. I take a slower more relaxed pace with this one, the little surprise.

    If you have read my blog from the past, Judah wasn't born yet. I was awaiting this little life changer. My world was immersed in Elementary and Junior high aged children. I had forgotten all about bibs and blankets. So much of my life was focused on proving myself to the world.

Sigh...

And then came Judah.

    In a moment he transformed our family. At his birth we were transitioning between jobs. In a few short weeks after we brought him home from the hospital, we put our house up for sale. In two short months we moved from a big town to a little village. We transitioned from spending our summer days at the public pool to a farm pond. With all of the change I felt speechless. Somehow I couldn't find words, I just felt numb. So I held this little one closer.

     Soft cooing has definitely transformed into cute toddler talk. He no longer wants to snuggle with mommy. Daddy is the super hero now. He is in a new stage, and sadly as my older three children are getting closer to leaving the home I find myself wanting to hang onto the wonder he brings to us.

    Now that my oldest, Isaiah is about to graduate I realize I am guilty. I have let precious moments slip by. It was not intentional, life just got away from me somehow...

    It is just like God to bring in a life changer like a baby to slow my world down. I am so thankful he did. I had no idea when the winds of change knocked us off our feet almost three years ago how much I need a re-start. I let go a little of me to gain more of the hearts of my kids. I slowed down to catch up to the three teenagers. I had no idea how hard it would be to teach them how to fly. I should have read more books. Yet having Judah to make us laugh when hormones are high and moods are stormy has brought us all closer together.

    I am guilty. I didn't mean to take precious moments for granted, but I did. In the quest to find myself I often over looked my kids. I hate to say it.

Then along came Judah.

     Right now we face an unique opportunity. Many of us are in self quarantine because of the Coronavirus. Schools are closed. Many jobs are up in the air. The virus is very real and has come too close to many of us. Life has never been more precious and valuable. We are picking up the phone to call our loved ones more. Many of us are working from home with the gaggle of children surrounding us. Perhaps this is the moment we had hoped for, family togetherness.

    But it is hard. I am not going to lie. Having peace with all six of us at the same time is almost impossible, but this time is still a strange gift to me. My life had gotten so busy and I was in danger of going too fast again and missing out on my most valued relationships when everything just stopped.

     In this unusual moment I am praying more. The world needs our prayers as new heroes appear on the scene like the sweet lady in my church who is sewing face masks for the local hospital. The teenager, I know, who is using his time to create face masks at home with a Cricket machine. I am praying for the grocery store clerks who ring up our daily essentials.  I am grateful for my friend, the nurse, who is working in the Coronavirus wing of the hospital. I am praying, I am calling, and I am humbled by their service.
     
     Last night, as I was about to finish this Blog. I was almost ready for my comfy pajamas. Because I haven't been sleeping lately (due to the Mouse) I was looking forward to getting to bed. That is when Isaiah, my seventeen year-old came bounding up the steps. He plopped down on the chair next to me his legs over the side. I could tell he wanted to talk, but it was already eleven o'clock.

     I wasn't excited. I really could have skipped this Precious moment but the computer was still open and the cursor was still flashing.

Sigh...

    I had a choice to make.

    Three hours later after watching a movie he really wanted me to see and discussing its moral issues. After listening to every idea, and thought that he had on his heart and mind he paused. I was suddenly surprised by his hug. My gangling and almost grown seventeen year-old hugged me, and said those three little words:

I LOVE YOU. 

    At last I sleepily fell into bed with a smile. This was a rare and precious moment indeed, and it would cost me...was it worth it?

    I wouldn't trade that moment for anything.

   

   
 
 



   

There's a Mouse in my House

       

        I was hoping, planning for a good night's sleep. In my coziest pajamas I laid my head down on the pillow. Eyes shut, I took a deep breath. My body relaxed, but my mind was awake. I forgot to take my vitamins and to put on moisturizer before bed. I tried to quietly march off to the bathroom in the dark. After my last minute duties were finished I tried again. With my head on the pillow I took another big breath trying to let all the tension out of my body. For a moment I felt my mind relax but then it started moving through to-do lists. Like a camera roll my thoughts went round and around behind my eyes.

     Somehow I drifted off to sleep, because I was definitely startled awake by a rustling sound somewhere near our bed. I mumbled to my husband Brad, from my sleep.

"What is that popping? "

    What could it be? It sounded like popcorn in a tin bowl. I opened my eyes to a dark room no trace of the dawn. I listened but the sound seemed to stop with my sleep talk and Brad's mumbled reply.

    I rolled over and shut my eyes, happy to finally feel tired and restful. Next came another sound like something small was trying to eat through a tin can. In my sleepy brain I was trying to figure out why there was a tin can in my room. Did one of the kids eat some uncooked spaghetti O's and ditch the can under my bed? It seemed likely given the whole quarantine situation and their bottomless appetites.

"Brad, do you hear that?"

    We both knew it had to be a mouse, but we both dreaded having to get up and deal with the furry predator. We live in the country. This is a problem we have grown accustomed to. But we never had one in our room in the middle of the night, and from the sound of it, this critter was close.

    Reluctantly Brad turned on the lamp. I reached over to look at my watch. It was 3:06 AM. I felt frustrated as my mind started to realize the gravity of the situation. THERE IS A MOUSE TRYING TO SLEEP WITH US! Suddenly I knew my restful night of dream-filled bliss was not going to happen.

   Brad started looking through the night stand drawers on his side of the bed. In the bottom drawer he pulled out a thermal shirt still in its plastic wrapping. We both nodded, that was the plasticy popping sound. After taking out a shirt and two pairs of pants he found further evidence, his Apple Phone box. It still had an extra cord in it and sounded like a BB rattling back and forth as he lifted it.

 "Ah ha, we found the popcorn," I said.

    A half eaten cold medicine pill was confiscated from the middle drawer.  I secretly prayed that the pill was lethal to rodents. In the far corner under a few pairs of socks he found a half eaten piece of gum.

"Hmmm..." he said and I nodded now fully awake.

    He put  his arm in the top drawer where he stored miscellaneous junk like phone cords. As his arm rummaged through it a gray mouse unexpectedly jumped out. I screamed. He jumped as he laughed mischievously.  And the mouse, the size of a small potato, landed on the carpet and scurried under our bed.

       Would I now have to sleep on the couch? Again I hoped that the cold medicine was lethal. Meanwhile Brad set up a trap to catch the furry little villain.  Because I was tired I just laid there. I knew I should be afraid of the mouse, but I was actually relieved that it stopped making noise. I shut my eyes only to instantly pop them back open with every little sound. To make matters worse Brad had left the room to exercise in his gym. IT WAS FOUR IN THE MORNING! He does that, because he is a Strongman.

   I tried to to be strong. I covered up my eyes with a pajama top I pulled out of the night stand on my side of the bed.  Trying to sleep with the light on, even with a night shirt over my eyes wasn't cutting it, I was too jumpy. Finally I resorted to the Salt lamp. I told myself, salt somehow makes the room more ionized or something. This will probably make the mouse hate this room and want to leave. Or maybe the frustrating little creature will get a stomach upset from its drug use and keel over.

    Either way, I knew I didn't get my goodnight's rest of uninterrupted sleep. I guess it just goes to show me, I should never plan for a goodnight's rest because then its bound to get messed up.

 One Day Later

    I wasn't quite finished with this blog. I needed to go back and fix grammatical errors and read through it to make sure it made sense. It was getting late so I went to bed. Before I went to bed, I decided to take Zzz Quill so I could hopefully sleep through any mouse troubles.

    Groggily I woke up late this morning. After drinking a cup of coffee, Brad had made for me, I sat up in bed. I looked down as I put my cup on my night stand situated four inches from my pillow and face. There on the night stand I saw 10 little black mouse droppings.

"Brad," I called out. "You got to see this."

    The tiny terrorist had left a half eaten cough drop. What is wrong with this mouse? Does it have a cold? Or even worse, the Coronavirus? And why can't it just die already!

    Before I went to bed the night before, I know that my night stand was clean. Sure it needed a good dusting, but it was clean. The Zzz Quill obviously had worked because I didn't hear the mouse eating a cough drop next to my face!!!!

I just have to say (from the 80's) "Grody to the Max!"

   "Dianne calm down," you might say. If only I had a kind little soul, like Cinderella. Then I would name the little critter. After all, it seriously wants to be my sleeping buddy.

But NO! FOR THE LOVE, NO!!!

I want that mouse dead, D-E-A-D!

                                                               to be Continued....                       

 

Into the Unknown

      The high note was piercing through the rafters into the unknown. The smooth voice was male which surprised me, because the song was normally sung by a woman. Instead of a stringed instrumental the electric guitar ripped through a solo rift. The Show tune cherished by every girl under the age of ten was instantly transformed into an eighties want to be epic ballad. I pictured the silver voiced singer wearing tight spandex pants and sporting a long permed mane.

    The song moved me literally all over the room. Air guitaring and trying my best to sing a long I danced. My kids laughed at the sight of their middle aged mom transported back to 1987. The year I was 10 and pretty boy bands were all the rage. A time when MTV was big but also banned from my house, so I went to my neighbors house to watch it.

Music somehow has this affect on us.

     Come on, I know you do it to. You could be minding your own business just washing the dishes when a song comes on the radio that just makes you sing out. Looking to make sure no one is around you have even went for it, that high falsetto note, so high it makes dogs cry.

     Music has a way of transporting us to time periods in our lives. In just a few bars of a song we find ourselves remembering the seventh grade dance, what we wore, and how we felt. We remember the day we unwrapped our first CD player.

     Many studies have proven that classical music helps the human brain function at a deeper level. There are also studies that rock music kills plants....wait, is that why I can't keep them alive?

    I would venture to say that music is the background of our lives. Have you stopped to notice it? Like wallpaper it is hung up all around our daily existence. Think of the elevator, or Walmart at Christmas. It is supposed to pacify us when we are put on hold with the insurance company. We all gather around our TV's to watch it at the Super Bowl Halftime show.

    I can almost see Julie Andrews on the grassy hilltop singing, "The hills are alive with the sound of music."

   This is how my heart comes alive. As I sing to God, my source of life. The melody can be rocky or a classic hymn of praise but when the message is gratefulness my heart feels whole. My soul feels happy.

   I have sung solo, or in a group. I have led choirs, and I have sung through sign language. I have written songs, and played them on piano, bass, and acoustic guitar. I have whispered them to sleepy babies. I have sung them to foreign people in a language I did not know.

   For me, singing about my God is sharing Hope. Do we know that we are loved by God? For most of us, even if we did know it, life has a way of convincing us otherwise. But I believe He does love us whether we are rockers or crooners. Whether our world is painted with baby Shark do-do-do-do's or Axle Rose's na na na na na's.

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son that whoever believes in him will not perish but have everlasting life." John 3:16.

     So whoever you are, I want you to know that you are loved. By the way, I'm singing that right now in my PJ's, with my frumpy just woke up hair, and my best Pat Benatar voice.

Unseasonal

    

      I don't know what to call this season...It started the week after we got home from the Cruise to the Florida Keys. In the airport people were wearing masks over their mouths and noses. I laughed at the young guy with a name brand face mask, like this foreign Flu virus was trending with the Rappers. I washed my hands but I didn't sweat it. Certainly it wasn't as big of a deal as the media was making it sound like. After all, this is America we are invincible, right?

    In one week's time everything changed. National events like "March Madness" basketball games were cancelled. Disney World shut its doors, and school was postponed for a month. The Governor of our state repeatedly announced restrictions. First it was no meetings of more than 200 than it quickly changed to no meetings of 10 or more people.

   Everyone was worried about toilet paper and hand sanitizer. For a few days I frantically cleaned my house as my youngest complained that his chest hurt and his head felt warm. Twelve days after coming home from the Cruise I wondered if he contracted the virus. Suddenly the world shrunk to the size of my baby's face and the way his chest heaved in and out as he took his nap and... the cough. Was it wet or dry? I Googled it? I texted friends whose children had the Flu what did their child's cough sound like? All I could see were the doorknobs, light switches, tables, and toilets. Meanwhile, the fever lasted one day, two days, three days. On the fourth day he had an even harder time breathing so I took him into Urgent care. We were given masks to wear.

   The Cruise, our last family vacation before my oldest, Isaiah, was to graduate, no longer glowed in my memory. It was evidence of contamination. The doctor checked my baby's lungs, she swabbed his nose for the Flu, it was negative. She checked his ears, no infection. She checked his throat but he didn't have Strep. Finally after the chest x-ray she shared her concern that my little guy showed signs of COVID-19, but they wouldn't test him because they needed to keep the tests for more serious cases. I was calm at first, but the closer we got to our home the more I panicked.

   That night we thanked the Lord for the cool rain. We opened the patio door off our bedroom so Judah could rest on our bed and breathe in the air. His breath was labored but the doctor released him because it wasn't serious enough to be hospitalized. But I was very nervous. I wished there was medicine to help, but all I had were prayers.

   It was hard to pray in the dark with my toddler sleeping. I leaned in to hear each breath as I tried to string-a-long a prayer.

  "Lord, I know you hear me, please touch my baby."

  I felt so small lying there. Waiting. Hoping. Breathing.

  The cool air helped his lungs, but I stayed awake most of the night listening to him breathe. The next day he was a little better but he still had the fever.  My hands were already raw from cleaning surfaces and washing them while singing the ABC's, but I was even more cautious. On the sixth day Judah's fever finally broke. Thankfully he was on the mend.

   The point of my story is...We are not invincible, but we are also not alone.                                     

    With school and Church closed my eyes are some how opened to reaching out in new ways to the people around me. It has been a long time since I have talked on the phone, but I have started calling my family more frequently. I have checked in with my friends and neighbors more closely. My days are shut in but turned toward my family in a closer way.

    I don't know what to call this season. Perhaps it's an alarm going off to wake us all up to how fast the Merry Go Round of life was spinning us. That Merry Go Round has almost stopped and we are all looking around.  In this social distancing time I am learning how to reach out and also how to look up.

    No I don't know what to call this season, but as I think back to that stormy night. As I  laid in bed letting the cool mist fill my bedroom, I prayed...

    and God heard.

     "Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." 1 Peter 5:7       

Freshly Baked

   

      The flour was spread across the cookie sheet ready for the yeasty dough I had just kneaded together. While rolling the sticky ball into a rectangle I smiled. Sprinkling flour on the plastic cup in my hands I continued until it was completely flattened. Next, the butter, like a little sunny stream spread to each corner covered quickly with the sprinkled cinnamon and sugar. Last of all, my favorite part, rolling it all up into a long strip of cinnamon goo. After pinching the dough to keep all the sweetness inside, with dental floss I cut twenty-four rolls.  For thirty minutes I let the dough rise before I popped them into the oven to bake.

     Yes I did it. I had one of those domestic moments of glory. The kitchen is quiet as they bake to perfection. The smell of fresh bread drifts into every room of the house. The children will wake up eager for a roll and I will feel like a success for a few moments. I want to feel this way. It's the reason I had a family. It is the vision I had as a little girl holding my "Pumpkin Patch" doll.  I especially loved playing house with my cousin because she had a miniature high chair and mini Tupperware refrigerator. Someday, I dreamed, I would make delicious things for my own real family. They would be happy.

     If only this was true.

      In real life, actual time, the pace is so much faster. To be honest I made those rolls for my worship team. My kids are going to be disappointed. Today is a special Sunday. We have a special speaker, and longer worship sets, so I thought I should bless them with a little treat.
   
       Life is full of such little decisions every day. With every choice the question that rolls around in my mind is...will I be enough? I might be, for the worship team, but will I be for my own family? Knowing that I would have a little revolt on my hands, I baked cinnamon rolls for my family too. It wasn't too much extra work, but experience has taught me to make double.

       Right now, I hear my littlest one roaring in his crib. Yes, I said roaring, because he thinks he is Incredible Hulk. He may not be yet, but he is incredibly cute. His little voice trying to be grown reminds me how blessed I am to have him. The timer is almost finished and the white whipped frosting is awaiting to glaze. I can't help but think of the many little gifts God brings my way. Little sweet reminders dressed in casual clothes, so inconspicuous I could over look them. Right now I chose to be grateful.

      Thank you God for little boys, and cinnamon and sugar, and the warmth of my living room on a cold Midwestern winter morning. For the hope I find every Sunday in church, and the voice to sing out your praises. Thank you for two almost grown girls and a tall boy who is almost a man. Thank you for the love of my life, and for the baby Hulk stirring in his crib. I am so thankful for a heart open still willing to receive...

      That heart open part...hasn't always been easy. Life is not all cinnamon rolls sweet and gooey. Sometimes there are just cold mornings, hard times. I've had disappointments, struggles, and hurts but the Lord has seen me through them all.

      Oh Lord, I love your grace. I need it everyday. Please sprinkle it down over my life.

      The oven is open, the rolls, golden brown have doubled in size. The cream cheese frosting melts into gooey puddles on top as I wait for them to cool. I can hear the house awakening with alarms and questions. "Mom where are the towels?"

    I have to go, but first I give thanks.

   

We're OPEN

     

     It was mid morning by the time I rolled up my sleeves to write. Ughh... It has been a long time since I have dared to post my thoughts. I don't know how big my audience is and to be honest I don't want to think about those details.

     Its just been too long since I took up my brush to paint the thoughts simmering inside. In a vague phrase I could simply state, a lot has happened, but that is uninteresting. Truth be told I am starting over again. I think I have said that over a dozen times, and I have attempted to start over repeatedly. But this time (sigh) "Dianne, dog gone it! I mean it."

     Have you ever felt stuck? Have you ever found yourself walking around the same bush thinking that you are moving forward only to find yourself circling the same issue? Bingo, that's where I have been for awhile now.

     One thing I know is I love writing. I don't do it enough, because I love it so much. I think it selfish to let myself just sit down and spill my heart out in all kinds of colorful splatters of words like paint. I wonder if the picture I form looks like anything at all or if it is just a childish image too common to even take time to read.

     At this point, I guess I can't care as much about that. I just have to go for it again. It seems on my Fortieth birthday I shut down shop. Its been two years and I haven't flipped the sign to Open yet. In some ways I felt like I died, and someone much less vibrant took residence of my life. I guess you could call that Depression. What ever, I am just sick of being shut down and out of order.

     Announcement...(Clearing throat) I am open for business. I don't know for sure if I am serious but I sure want to be. This world is missing my paint brush and my words so there! I am turning on the lights and I'm flipping the sign around. I am going to try again.

    Have you felt shut down? Unable to open up? Are you a creative that has succumbed to the mind numbing monotony of life? Will you wake up with me? I know there is a dream still rattling around in that heart of yours. I can almost see the glimmer in your eyes. Let's dream together. I can't promise that we won't give up before we have seen the dream through to the end, but at least we can try.

    As I spend a day looking at my old backyard I am allowing myself to really look. I have spent too much time regretting the past instead of looking at how good it really was. I miss the goodness, but I believe that new good things are awaiting me if I will just get up.

     It had been a long time since I had tried to write,  to breathe on the page. But I decided it was time and now here I am. We're OPEN, so come on in.