Planning a party, but not

Dates are flying by and I find myself dragging my feet to plan Shortcake's fourth birthday party.  Her big day is two days away and the family party is five days away.  It's not the sentiment that "she's growing up too fast".  There is that but what it really is . . . is that we've passed over the half-way mark.  Of her nearly four years she has spent over half of them without knowing my mom.  Bless Oma's heart because she is a dear heart but Shortcake knows Oma, not Grandma K and it hurts so terribly.

This is all probably compounded since it looks like the family home is as good as sold.  Last weekend I breathed the smells of home that I'll probably never smell again, open doors and cupboards for the last time, ran my hands over shelves my Grandpa built, spent time in the last room my mom ever had consciousness in.

I probably shouldn't be writing when I weep.  It's all pretty raw right now.  How do we become so attached to stuff and places?  Lord please help me to be more like you because of this pain.

Hot Chocolate Remembrance Picnic

I loaded up the picnic basket with some vintage Tupperware mugs, a thermos of hot chocolate, grabbed our picnic quilt and out the door we went. We set up our picnic under the big Oak, next to the weathered bench, near my mom's gravesite. The kids brought some pink daisies that grow in our garden and I brought an arrangement I ordered from my girlfriend, I wanted something pretty to decorate the iron bench.

 As the kids sipped and dunked their cookies I read to them from one of our history books, Rascal. We didn't really talk about grandma or say anything special on this two-year anniversary of her passing. We just spent time together, making a memory in a special spot.
 

The crumbs were shaken out of the blanket folds, and the nature books were pulled out of our hiking backpack. We trekked the church parking lot to the pond and discovered milkweed pods, snake grass, a caterpillar, and a leaf turned red with the coming chill.

 Sketching complete, the boys decided to test their strength and they took turns trying to carry me piggy-back across the parking lot. I was completely ungracefully draped across their small but growing backs. A couple of them collapsed under my weight but hurrahed the day they WOULD make it!

 The testosterone had been unleashed and I turned to find Agent E aiming the magnifying glass at a dried leaf, by the end of his pursuit there was less than half a leaf left.

 I still cry, and my heart still aches, yet I rejoice knowing that He loves my mom and us dearly.

Happy birthday Mom

SOMETHING for Thee! Lord, let this be
   Thy choice for me from day to day;
The life I live it is not mine,
Thy will, my will, have made it Thine!
   Oh, let me do in Thine own way
          Something for Thee!
-Elizabeth Prentiss
(January 26 from Joy & Strength by Mary Wilder Tileston)

Between you, me, and the cinnamon tree

Tonight Agent H was helping me clean up dinner when he gave a little chuckle over an old memory. He told me a story that happened a few years back when my mom was visiting or maybe babysitting. He had just completed his chore of emptying all the dishes from the dishwasher and Grandma asked him to do the silverware as well. He responded with "I don't usually do that part" and Grandma smiled at him and said "well you go ahead and do it, and it will be between you, me, and the cinnamon tree." And of course he did it and he chuckled as he did.

Shortcake and my mom

Last week we celebrated a birthday for Shortcake.  Three years old!  I'll post pictures of the tea party her brothers and I had for her and her party with our families soon.  For the moment I just want to post this picture.  Her birthday is especially hard for me.  My mom only got to celebrate one birthday with Shortcake.  So I tuck her into bed at night with the pink afghan my mom made for her and remember to her the woman she barely knew, and I try not to let the tears flow during worship at church but there's something beautiful and raw and healing about tears in worship.  I miss you mom.

Breaking blog silence

I'm breaking blog silence after months of . . . well silence.  A couple of weeks ago I found a hard copy of my blog from years ago.  My mom printed it out, bound it up and gave it to me because she thought I could write and was proud of me.  I'm gonna get all teary, might need to grab a Kleenex while I type here.

I think my mom often wondered what I was going to grow up "being".  Back in her day my mom took the train from Montana to Minnesota to go to nursing school.  As far as I know, she loved her work.  When she quit at the hospital she had three boys to nurse at home so she really just transferred locations.  That was her thing.  So I think she wondered what would be "my" thing.  I even got the feeling she was a little concerned.  I wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box.  I remember her suggesting I push my nail cuticles back after showers to increase my chances of being a hand model someday.  I'm not even going to humor you with a picture of my hands.  Let's just say short, knuckley, huge writing callus on my middle writing finger, and three fingers that have those everywinterdrypainfulbleedingsplitcracks.

I did a little of this and that in my pre-baby days and I now love my full-time job as mom.  Somehow, over the years, I discovered I really liked words.  I just like them.  They are a special communion my spirit shares with my Maker and sometimes with friends.

My heart feels joy knowing that my mom thought I had a knack for it and had found something "to do".

Somehow Facebook has taken the brunt of my emotional "I miss my mom posts".  I guess over there I get lots of "like" hugs and encouragement.  Finding that binder was a boot in the pants to start sharing over here more.  I tend to share my heart more fully here and it makes me feel so much more vulnerable.  Making yourself do hard things helps you to grow.  So be it.  These last 15 months have provided plenty of opportunity for that.

I'm going to go post the super cute picture of Shortcake and her upcycled tights that sat me down to post in the first place.  I'd better keep it short since I'm supposed to be knitting Christmas gifts for next week.