Easter to Advent

During Lent we were mourning the loss of several loved ones and my husband gave me this Scripture passage to comfort me:  

"And as for the resurrection of the dead, have you not read what was said to you by God, 'I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob'?  He is God not of the dead, but of the living."

- Matthew 22:31-32

Now here we are, all the way in Advent and the same verse still hits me hard. My secret dark feelings that something will inevitably go wrong with this pregnancy and I will have to say good-bye to yet another loved one this year, are tested by this verse.  God is God not of the dead, but of the living.  Even as we say good-bye to our loved ones, God claims them as His, and promises us all new Life!  There is hope.  It seems dark even now, but light trickles in ... through Jesus.

This little life that I have nurtured for nearly nine months can be a source of secret fears for me, or I can acknowledge God's power in this baby's life and God's power in this baby's death, and this baby can be a reminder that ours is the God of the living...perhaps the joy of new life can relieve some of the pain of loss our family has experienced this year. 

My fear of death is selfish, after all.  I hate saying good-bye.  The hope I feel God pressing on me is the hope that these farewells we say here are temporary.  I must not take them as seriously as those who have no hope of seeing their loved ones again.  And...there are always more people to love.  We have to stay hopeful so we can keep on loving.  When we keep on loving, despite loss, we keep on hoping.

"'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." -Tennyson

Why I Dread

I started dreadlocks eight months ago when Steven died, and then Plain Ol' Grammy died.  The world turned upside down.  Grief besieged me.  Two lives ended, and nothing was good, or right, or beautiful.

My hair became an outward symbol of the tangled mess living ... and dieing ... are.  My hair became a sloppy-looking hope, that someday this mess will be manageable, live-able, maybe even sort of lovely.  It is a daily reminder for me that there's not always a "cure" for the mess.  Sometimes you just have to ride the fuzzy mess with your eyes closed and try to keep your feet under you.  And sometimes the mess will surprise you, and you will feel loved and beautiful despite the mess, and really know that this sort of love is best:  the love that loves despite, or even because of the tangles.

My dread locks are not what I expected.  Some days I wonder, "What have I done?!" but most days I think, "This is the best decision I've ever made".  They are a challenge to clean (yes I clean my dreads regularly!).  They do not allow my husband to give me a scalp massage (oh I miss head rubs!).  They get stuck in tree branches and in zippers and my children like to pull on them.  They are moody, they are frizzy, and they sometimes bring strange looks down people's noses in my direction.

I'm told dread locks take a while to mature.  When they're mature they require much less maintenance.  I imagine that's the way of most things.  My grief included.  Perhaps it too, will mature, and become more manageable.  Some days I can't believe that I go on living - without Steven in the world.  Without Grammy.  I'm always amazed that another day has gone by without the influence of that soul on this time.  I love that every time I catch my reflection in the mirror, my hair reminds me of my loved ones.  And happy coincidence: the conception of these dreads coincides with the conception of a third little Thiessen baby.

But most of all, these dread locks of mine are accurate.  This is a hair style that screams, "LAURA".  My life is a mess, my hair is a mess, but I have hope because God loves beautiful things, and can make beautiful things out of this crazy life, out of this crazy grief, out of this most crazy time.  I keep looking for beauty in the tangles.  I keep hoping.  And I accept the mess, the grief, the tangles, for now.  They are where I am.  They are okay - more than okay!  They are right.

For the Record

My kids are not all bad.  In fact, they are sometimes, truly, little angels.  Last week I had to go get some blood drawn (just the standard stuff during pregnancy).  The doctor told me to go over the lunch hour because (his exact words!), "It's usually dead over the lunch hour.  You can just walk in and out."  As a result of this advice, and since I had recruited babysitters two other times last week, I decided to take the kids with me. 

We had our normal morning lessons, piano practice, and then everyone got dressed and we jumped in the car.  We stopped by the clinic in howling winds and darted into the building clutching our jackets around our throats.  There was standing room only in the waiting room.  Perhaps it wasn't yet the lunch hour?  It was only 11:15.  I gave my doctor the benefit of the doubt and took the kids back out to the car, through the gale, over to WBS where we killed a little time visiting Derek and eating candy from the receptionist.

11:45, back to the clinic!  There were now exactly three empty seats, in the most boring waiting room in the world.  Not a single magazine or side table, and the only two microscopic windows covered by people sitting and waiting.  I sighed and decided I was not coming back another day.  Despite the fact that I had not prepared for a long wait, I had gone to all the trouble of getting everyone out of the house in inclement weather, and I absolutely positively HATE needles.  If I made it to the lab, the last thing I should do was leave again...chances are I could come up with at least ten more excuses not to have blood drawn by tomorrow.  So we took a number (76), and sat.

And sat.

And sat.

And the kids ate their pocketed candy from the receptionist.

And we sat.

And the kids wrote on the crumpled church bulletin I dug out of the bottom of my purse.

And we sat.

And the kids counted all the light bulbs in the ceiling.

And we sat.

And intermittently the children asked, "Is it our turn yet?" (we had come when the sign said they were treating number 62 - so we had a little lesson in counting).

And we sat.

And we sat.

For an hour and forty-five minutes!! With no books, no toys, no crayons, no snacks - straight through the lunch hour!  And my two boys did not bicker.  They did not whine.  They were as patient as Job.  When our number was finally called they quietly walked back to the cubicle with me and sat on the wall to watch the nurse draw my blood.  They were pretty fascinated and sat like statues, with great big eyes.  The nurse commented, "I didn't even know their were children in the waiting room!  They are so good!"

And they are!  But the reason they get three times the credit for being good, is because they were good when it really counted.  They were polite, patient, quiet and sweet at a time when it was a serious challenge for even an adult to remain remotely civil.

I took them out for happy meals after to celebrate. 

Merging, or Starting Fresh with Five?

 People in Winnipeg don't know how to merge.  There are only a few places in the entire city where it is necessary, since Winnipeg doesn't have any freeways.  And still, I expect people to get it: If you drive the speed of traffic, that gap is big enough for your vehicle!!  If you sit on the side of the road waiting for a gap at a total standstill, you will never find your opening....and I will be here, stuck behind you (stupid head).

I learned how to merge by necessity.  Bakersfield was a 20 minute freeway's ride away from Shafter, and Bakersfield was where the interesting stuff was happening (don't get me wrong - Shafter's volleyball in Mannel Park, and yearly 4th of July Parade were pretty darn fun, but Bakersfield had a movie theatre!).  If we wanted to get to the FUN, we learned how to merge early in our driving careers.

In relationships, merging is much more complicated because you can, and have to, expect the other drivers to take you into consideration.  It's not just about speeding up and jumping in.  Sometimes you just don't click.  And sometimes you spend so much time looking around at everyone else that you forget what you're supposed to be doing!

Our family is in the middle of merging.  It's pretty distracting, and sometimes difficult...for some of us.  Seamus has no trouble at all loving the newest member of our family.  He just adores the idea of having a baby around to kiss and hold.  Luke is pretty worried what another little brother is going to do to his lego projects, or his complicated maze of train tracks.  Derek has to schedule ten minutes into his lunch time just for saying good-bye to all the little ones.  And I somehow have to work a fourth person into my sleep schedule, my homeschool schedule, my menu planning and laundry...not to mention the current difficulties I have in just walking and sitting and sleeping while pregnant.

I've been using this metaphor of merging as I think about baby #3, and then I found this painting.  I painted it in November 2007.  Everyone on my Christmas list was in the middle of some "New Start", and I was considering painting each of them a unique symbol to represent a new phase of their life.  Kathy had a new baby, Amanda was pregnant, I was pregnant, Sarah just moved to Fresno, Mom had an empty nest, Dad was doing something just for fun (for maybe the first time EVER), Melissa was considering a big move...



Maybe this metaphor is more helpful in considering our family life with baby #3:  A new start.  It's not exactly that this baby has to jump in our busy lives.  It's that we all have to pull the car over to let in a new passenger, and start down the road again - start fresh - with Five.
 

35 Weeks

Kids say...

 

It was 45 F yesterday, so we had to take advantage of it and play outside!

making volcanoes!

One of my favorite corners of my home:  Plain Ol' Grammy, tiny vases from POG, a bird from Kathy, a vase from Amanda, and lego wheels...framing my favorite view: boys outside.

Seamus:

My dice are running down the hallway, and so am I!

Can I have more smarsh-mallows?

I don't want to go to bed, I just want to sleep in my bed.

(after being scolded) You're so pretty, Mommy....just SO pretty.

In six days, when the baby comes, he's going to be so key-ute.


Luke: 

I called Dad so loud that he could hear me as clear as morning!

(crying) You ALWAYS make me learn things!

I found out I liked those carrots in my chewing process.

There was an excess of apples.  So I ate them.

Mom!!  My brother is doing stuff he shouldn't be doing....like eating stuff!

Luke Says, Seamus Says.

 We have a guest for a few days: J'Mark!  He's a really popular guy in our house because he does excellent animal imitations, plays rock, paper, scissors indefinitely, reads books with all the voices, and tosses giggling little boys up in the air, or holds them "up-see-down" (Seamus says) if they're really naughty.

My favorite part of having one of my favorite people in the whole world here for a few days (besides having an awesome role model of someone who helps clear the table after meals), was having an inspirational artist to teach Luke his art lesson this morning.  How special to get a lesson in drawing expressive forms and faces from J'Mark!!  Of course we ended up using a Ninja Turtle as a model...because it's John-Mark, after all.

I should note that this is a turtle John-Mark drew very simply so that Luke could follow his directions.

Seamus says

I like the dump-o-wings with sass-kup (translation:  I like the dumplings with ketchup).

Daddy drives his hat around on his truck (referring to the WBS decal).

We love one 'chother.

Let's read Cutie and the Beast!

You're so smart, Mom.  You're just a smart guy.

(to Elaine, at church)  You gotta take your sandal off and SMACK! the scorpions, okay?

Luke says

Finders keepers, losers leapers!

Our neighbor has orange hair with a crack in the middle.

me: Remind me to wash your jacket tonight, Luke.
L: Okay, but only if I remember.

J'Mark!  I'm dead!  Come check in my pockets to see if there's anything good.

Wherever we Are

According to my yoga training I am supposed to attempt to be present in this moment.  I am supposed to take advantage of this moment by acknowledging it, appreciating it, being grateful for it.  Today is one of those days filled with moments I'd rather forget.  Moments when I lost my cool, or when my kids lost their cool, or when I felt so sick and tired I could hardly have gotten out of bed if it weren't for the one kid shouting about how the other kid just threw all the bath towels in the bath tub full of water...

How should I appreciate these terrifyingly disgustingly disturbing moments?

Like when you go outside to check on the dinner you've been planning and marinating for days, made special for company, only to find the BBQ appears to have (at some unnoticed point in the last half hour) been engulfed in flames and totally given up the ghost....dinner a burnt offering to the apparently vengeful BBQ god.

Or like when you're in the middle of shouting at your kid that if they had started practicing piano fifteen minutes ago instead of farting around they could have been done by now and they choose that moment to fall off the piano bench and hit their head with a sickening crunch on the floor?

Or like when your kid is begging and nagging and hounding you to let them eat more Halloween candy and you find yourself manipulating their naive enthusiasm to bribe them into doing something they should have done without being asked?

Or like when you haven't slept through the night in weeks and your kid is downstairs crying your name and you actually find yourself thinking, "Maybe I can pretend I don't hear him"...and you sort of hate yourself.

Oh Lord.  What I come to see after writing it all out (and crying to my mother-in-law over a cup of tea), is that I am thankful the kid didn't drown in the tub instead of the towels.  I am thankful the house didn't catch fire when the BBQ exploded.  I am thankful the head smashing didn't require a visit to the ER.  I am thankful that no matter how manipulative I am, my children still seem to know that I love them and I am so thankful I am not the only adult influencing their growth process.  I am thankful for the little boy who comes stomping up the stairs shouting, "I'm awake!!" after naptime and wants, before anything else, to give his baby brother a hug (yes, the baby in my belly).

I am thankful, but it is so hard to see past my anger and anxiety sometimes.  It is so hard to see past the blame and guilt I cast on myself, to the beautiful, forgiving, loving-ness my family and friends cast on me.  But it is there.

I learn again and again that, wherever we are - this moment or the next or next week or next year - I can find something for which to be thankful...even if it's only, "Whew, that could have been a lot worse".

Them Dreads

There is a man in Winnipeg who has made and maintained African and Caucasian dreadlocks in his hair studio for over 25 years.  Tomorrow I am going to go see him for a consultation.  Then I will (hopefully!) make an appointment to have my dreads professionally maintained sometime before the baby is due, so that I have hands-free dreads when baby comes along and needs all my hands.

I started my dreads when Steven and Grammy died in quick succession, this Spring.  They are now nearly 8 months old.  That's how people talk about their dreads.  They talk about "how old" they are, and they recognize them as individuals so the hair is no longer singular "Hair", but plural and personified, "Them".  I have begun to do the same.  This hair of mine has developed a lot of personality in the last eight months.  And while it has made me a few new friends, some very close acquaintances don't quite know what to do with "Them" (ahem, husband).  Still, it seems most people are 100% on board when I tell them my dreads are in memory of Steven and of Grammy.  I tell them these dreads of mine are an outward symbol of my inner, tangled mess of grief.  Then people nod and smile and give me the thumbs up.  Most likely because they're 100% certain by now that I'm a lunatic and their personal safety is in question.  To be fair, some of them legitimately get it.

The last few months with my dreads have been particularly trying.  They don't seem to be locking up as fast as I'd like.  They don't look nice, they're frizzy and static-y and most days I put them under a scarf just to feel like a human under this mop.  I don't really know what I'm doing with them, I don't know how to "maintain" them.  I don't know what they're supposed to be looking like as they mature.  And I begin to wonder if I've jumped into the deep end without a life preserver...typical me.

So I talked to Rob on the phone this morning and he says, "Aw, I know exactly where you're at, and I know exactly what you need.  Come see me and we'll talk, I'll give you the tricks of the trade, and you pay me whatever you can manage after I've worked on your dreads and got you set up."  A window opens!  Light pours in!  I want to cry and sob to Rob, "Make me pretty!!"  And I want to sob to Derek, "Think I'm pretty!!"  And I'm so tired I could literally lay down and cry, because I'm sad and life is hard, and people I love have died, and I want grief to resolve itself, and I want my head to be pretty again. 

Danika's Our Excuse for a Boat Ride

Back in September, when the leaves were first starting to turn, we went to visit baby Danika in the NICU.  Since this photo was taken she has left NICU and come home!  She has some future medical treatments that none of us look forward to, but for now she is doing well at home.  And we are so happy to have her nearby.

What we got to do AFTER visiting Danika is just one of the perks of being homeschoolers. We got to go on a river tour of Winnipeg with Grandma Helene and discuss how most large cities are built on or near some sort of water source (after reading the book, Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmans).

Both  boys even took turns captaining the ship!  Seamus was hesitant at first, and only wanted a short turn.  Luke would have steered the boat in circles for hours!  His erratic driving made a lot of people laugh (turning sharply towards the bank shouting, "Look at those people on the racing boat!").
  
 

Manitoba Legislature Building

Provencher Bridge

St. Boniface Cathedral

a little more snow

It won't stick around for long, but we decided to be excited about it, and go roll around in the wet wet snow and throw snowballs at one another.  In a few months we'll be praying for green grass again, but for now the snow is a novel thing, and we're going to just have fun and acknowledge that snow can be magical - to see the world transformed by white!

First Snow; ten weeks to go!

With the snow here this morning, and hard frosts finishing off the last of my garden produce, it is time to take down the trampoline.  Of course the snow melted during the day, and didn't stick to anything that holds heat, but still we recognize it as the beginning of the end.  I have to admit, in some ways seeing snow this morning sent a thrill through me.  I've been telling myself, "The baby's not coming until Winter", and here is the first sign of Winter - literally on my doorstep!

So, perhaps the change in weather is what prompted my "nesting", or perhaps it was just the fact that things are moving along so fast in the basement (we got carpet this last week!).  But this weekend we have moved a lot of furniture, including moving the crib and rocking chair into our bedroom!  That was really exciting, so of course I had to empty out a drawer for baby's little onesies, buy teeny tiny diapers and pack my hospital bag.  Derek set up the boy's bunk beds which is just thrilling them no end (especially the idea that they may be able to jump from the top bunk onto a bean bag chair...mommy's nervous about this one), and we are getting homeschool books and activities sorted and organized - which means the top of the piano and the dining room table are at last clearing off!  

Hurray for nesting!  Hurray for snow!  Hurray for only 10 weeks to go!

Silhouettes

If you want to know what we did in school today, see below!  Derek has yet to get his silhouette made.  I will add it to this post when it's complete.  And our class had a special guest this morning.  Gramma came for breakfast and even she got her silhouette made!  It's always good to have Gramma over.

Linus

Seamus

Seamus Says. Luke Says.

(with incredulity, at an indoor pool) Hey Mom!  There are no dolphins in this pool!

You're a good boy, Mom.

S: Mom, Luke doesn't have a good idea.  I have a good idea.
me: What's your idea?
S: Oh!  I don't know!

(hugging my belly) Good night baby budder.  (And then to my breasts) And good night baby, good night baby.

me to Luke: It's okay, I understand.
S: Yeah, me too.  I dunder-band.

(While putting Seamus down for a nap downstairs and Luke upstairs.  Also, you should know that Luke's blanket has dachshunds on it)  I want Luke to sleep HERE, in his dog bed!

me: Don't rock my chair please, Seamus.
S:  BUT!  I LOVE you!

I don't like coffee like Seamus does.  But I'm gonna like it when I'm a teenager.

Should I swat my face?

(after I asked him to stop twisting his hair, and told him he would go bald if he didn't stop)  Mom, it's okay if I'm bald in the winter because my jacket has a furry hood!

Hey Mom!  Did you know I have such a BIG mouth?!

My job around the house is shooting rubberbands at bad guys.

(singing, I've got the moves like Jagger after jazz dance class) I've got the moves like ja-azz!

Dad!  Dad!  Dad!  Look Dad!  I can balance cheese on my head!
Derek: Yes!  You've got a bright future ahead of you.

Seamus and Fall Colors

Last week I harvested all my zinnias because there was a risk of frost, and I didn't want to lose all the marvelous color before I had to.  The colored glass in the South window showed off the zinnias quite vividly in the Fall afternoon sun.  Seamus and I had a little photo shoot just for fun.

Color!

The basement's getting a paint job this week,

and WHOA!

It's gonna glow in the dark.

26 Weeks

Counting down the days until we can officially say we're in the third trimester.

It doesn't seem there's much else to count to these days since baby is pretty well developed, just growing bigger every day.  Except maybe I could count how many times each day baby has hiccups...'cause that's just ridiculous!  Poor little guy can hardly get a nap without being woken by the hic-um-ups.  Neither can I.

By the way, how weird is it that I'm growing a penis inside my body?  Weirds me out, every time I think about it.  Just goes to show that men need women right from the very beginning.  Even to grow a penis.

Third trimester here we come!

Baby Teeth

My sister pointed out to me today that my first boy is losing his baby teeth, just as my third boy is growing his inside his gums.  Yes, Luke has begun to outgrow his baby teeth.  His "bear trap" as my Dad calls it, will become a little more frightening as those adult teeth grow in.  For now we just have an early Jack O' Lantern in our house.  And a curious mother needs to know how much baby teeth are going for these days, because the tooth fairy didn't leave very specific instructions. Anybody know?

More from California...

Happy 57th Birthday hot dog for Grandpa!

Jane puts in Sarah's crown.

Laurie throws a beautiful shower in her new home.

We made Sarah put everything that she opened on, immediately, and without ever taking anything off!  So...how do you wear colanders?

Luke and Seamus went to kindergarten with Grammy one morning.

The pump house finally matches the house.  Sorry Derek and I didn't do that six years ago, Dad!  But look at that reach!  Consider this our contribution to your physio ;)