Joy in the Journey

 “He is always with you.”  It has been three weeks since my dad passed away and I have heard that sentence or some version of it so many times from so many people. Mostly I've heard it spoken to my mom, but it's also been said to me, too. And it’s kind of driving me nuts. Because my dad is not with us anymore. He is not here "in spirit". I had a dream about him last night. It was actually really cool because my son, John, had a dream as well. After the service my son John wanted me to hang one of the photos I had printed off for the memorial up against the wall in his bunkbed space. It is a picture of my dad when he was somewhere around 3 or 4 years old, fishing, which was one of my dad's favorite pastimes. It is so cute. My son hung it beside a plaque that he got for Christmas, which says “Hooked on Fishing”. He said he put it there because Papa (as my children call him) hooked us for life. When I tucked my son into bed last night, he was looking at the picture a

 I have to share a dream that I had this morning: We were at a swimming hole in a creek or a river, I’m not sure which one, it was not one that I recognize, but I do know that my mom and my children were there and some friends of ours were there, too. I could tell it was a warm day, and really just lovely weather because everybody was having fun playing in the water and basking on the gravel bar. Everyone but me.  To me, the entire scene was black and white. Like an old movie. I couldn’t see or feel the sunshine. I knew that the children’s bathing suits and floaty toys were brightly colored, but all I could see were different shades of gray. I felt very forlorn. And very cold. Finally, I asked my mom if she would watch the toddlers and then got into the water. I crossed the river but being in the water did not do anything for me. Everything still seemed very dull and melancholy. I waded up to the top of the swimming hole and stood in the middle of the stream. I plunged in, and just swa

This morning I woke up and, for the first time in my entire life, I woke up knowing that my dad is not sharing this planet with me. And though his death was not unexpected, it’s very foreign and my brain is having a hard time getting used to the idea.  I’ve been very blessed in that I have never lived more than a mile from my parents. My children are very blessed because they’ve never went a week without seeing their grandparents at least once. And now my dad is gone. And I know he is in heaven, and I am so happy for him because he is experiencing things we only dream about...but...wow... it’s just really hard to get used to. My dad was a small town, hermit-ish, kind of guy. He had a lot of friends but he was never the center-of-attention, life-of-the-party kind of guy. His favorite pastimes were fishing and hunting and being in the mountains. And spending time with his grandkids. Actually, he loved all kids. They gave him a special joy, and he delighted in them. My parents were only a

 My dear mamas, I have not forgotten you. I've actually sat down and started many different blog posts over the past few months, but they all fizzled out after a few paragraphs. My heart just wasn't in them I guess, and I am no good at writing when there is no heart behind it. I can't fake my way through anything. I am the world's worst liar! As I was brainstorming for this post, I was trying to pinpoint why exactly I haven't been inspired to write much lately, and I'm not exactly sure. I know that I am still sad and mourning the loss of our baby (how I miss that little one!). In the case of my previous miscarriages (9 and 12 years ago), I was already pregnant again 3 months after the loss, and that has not happened this time. So in the space of I am waiting and seeing what God has planned for that area of my life. I am also very sadly watching my father struggle against pulmonary fibrosis (hardening of the lungs). He was diagnosed several years ago and as time

 I made an ugly pillow today. This is not what I thought I would be writing a blog about. Actually, about this time I figured that I would be making an announcement. When you hear the word announcement, I’m sure you know what’s going to follow, and your guess is probably right. By this time I thought I would be 12 weeks pregnant and ready to tell the world. However, life, as you all know, rarely goes exactly as planned. I first suspected the presence of baby number nine pretty early on (I have six children on earth, now three in heaven). I took my children on a jet boat trip in September and was ridiculously nauseous the whole time. But it was way too early for a pregnancy test, and I thought it was way too early to be nauseous because of a pregnancy, so I waited a few weeks and then took the test. Sure enough, it was positive. But the line was pretty faint, so I waited another week and took another test. It was positive as well. My husband and I were so happy. We waited a while to tel

 So, I have a teenager…and I’ve noticed that she struggles in the area of time management. It seems like she is always doing things at the last minute and always the last one into the car when we go places. And, though it has been very frustrating, I totally get that she comes by it honestly…and it’s not from her dad’s side!  I want my children to be better at time management than I am…and I really want to be better, too. So I’ve developed a system that has been working well for over a month now and I thought I would share it with you in case you might find it helpful, too. What I’ve been doing is setting an alarm for 30 minutes before we need to leave the house. Sounds simple, right? And then be done it in the past, and it hasn’t worked. But I have a twist on it.  When the alarm goes off 30 minutes before we are supposed to leave, I hit the ten-minute-snooze button and announce to everyone that it is time to clean up/finish what they were doing. And I do the same. I know that part of