the reluctant pioneer

A dear friend of mine has taught me the importance of margins. It's a tricky concept really. Margins too wide = selfish laziness. Margins too narrow = unsustainable. I tend to swing from one extreme to another, often in reaction to where I've just found myself. Burnout, retreat, burnout, retreat, etc. A part of the reason we put our oldest two in school this year was to provide me some much-needed margin. As the year has progressed, I've found my brain working again in ways that are exciting but also raise red flags that scream "Warning! Margins narrowing ahead!" There are difficult questions of priority that I face, having been refreshed by this season, and knowing I am entering a season of significantly narrower margins. A new baby, the how/who/where of the next school year, concerns about our kids' activities that I feel need addressing, a new service opportunity alongside Mark... All of those practical items vie for my energy and at...

I knew, at the time, that we were enjoying a particularly spectacular Autumn. Now, in the dreary depths of Winter, I'm so grateful I grabbed my newest toy and captured a few glimpses of those days. I share these, many of which have already been shared elsewhere, in case you, like me, need a little reminder of what color and life look like. And, in case you were thinking that I, as a newbie photographer, have some special skill, I give you this, um, "portrait" of my kiddos. It's all sorts of awful, but I especially love that in an attempt to get a more natural smile from someone, I must've said, "Show me your teeth." Thank you, Lucy, for obliging.

I woke to a gray and dismal morning. Wednesday. I'd made it 72 hours since my water broke. The first big prayers for our baby's safety were answered. Now I was free of the IV, off the Mag, and the steroids for baby's lungs were fully effective. I could focus my eyes, use the bathroom on my own and even move about my room. While I was incredibly grateful for all this, my spirit was fighting a cloud of depression. Newborn, getting him stabilized My first trip to the bathroom that morning revealed some pink on the giant pad that caught the continuous leaking from my ruptured membranes. I was caught off guard by the sight, but the nurse assured me this was normal. The smell of rain was heavy in the air. Every person that came into my room mentioned the deluge and resulting greening of their yards and trees. I smiled collegially, trying to picture our own nearly-barren yard and finding it hard to believe what they were saying. From my window, all I could see was a youn...

Today I was out in the beautiful sunshine, raking the weeping willow twigs that fall from the tree and multiply when they hit the ground. There is no end to them. No. End. ...And I thought to myself, it's a beautiful day, it will probably be a gorgeous evening (it is) and we have all these twigs that need to be burned. Perhaps tonight would be a good night for our first Spring fire. ...And I was taken back to a fire in our backyard exactly a year ago, this evening. A beautiful night filled with joyful hopes of a new Spring. The night before our world turned upside-down for nearly two months. Tomorrow is not Joey's birthday, Praise God, but it is the anniversary of the beginning of our journey through fear and grace, sadness and hope, anxiety and peace, when my water broke at exactly 30 weeks along. Add caption I came across this picture of my little pumping station in the hallway-corner of our bedroom. I had to include it because it perfectly capture...

I'm an introvert, but I can function well in a social environment. With the right mix of people, you might even confuse me for an extrovert. I love the occasional large party, but I do not like chaotic masses of people. I'm most happy with a small core of deep friendships, and I would love to invest deeply in these over years, and watch our lives entangle in common memories. This takes vision, effort and intentionality. Vision, effort and intentionality that I don't have the emotional resources for because... I look at the calendar and notice some routine events during the next weekends. Suddenly, my chest feels tight, my heart beats faster, I can't breathe as easily. Why? I just want to be free of this feeling - the constriction, the weight, feeling like a lonely face in a crowd searching for the life-raft of a face I know deeply, yet unable to cling because of the waves of others. Free to breathe, free to go deeper with a few than spread thin in the tens or hund...