Helen's Going to Sleep Poem

Our Weber family reunion was held at Berea College in Kentucky in June. It was a beautiful setting, a cute town and perfect weather, a lovely frame for connecting with family and eating famously good Weber-prepared food. The college put the whole reunion in the Elizabeth Rogers Hall for the weekend, and our family bedded down as comfortably as possible in our assigned dorm room for the night. We tucked the kids into floor nests under the high loft-style bunk beds and said good night, and we all went to bed at the same time so the kids wouldn't be frightened about sleeping alone in such an unfamiliar setting.

Owen zonked out immediately, as normal. Jack and Helen whispered and giggled with each other for a long time. Eventually Jack fell asleep, but Helen continued to talk very softly and quickly to herself until she finally drifted off to her dreams.

The next morning, I asked her what she had been saying. She rattled it off to me, so quickly she had to repeat it several times until I understood:

"I want to sleep like this for a while.
I want to close my cute little eyes.
Please let me breathe whenever I want to.
And sometimes I have to swallow spit."

Rain

Wow. This is embarrassing! This poor blog has certainly not been a priority lately. I'm still thinking of posts, finding I have a lot to say, but nothing to say. I want to write things perfectly, but can't figure out the right words. Some of my thoughts are worthwhile, but most of them are forgettable.

I did write something lately, requested by Jason's uncle Lloyd, to be read at our Kauffman reunion at Bethel Camp in Kentucky. Other than having to publicly read something I wrote, I had a great time catching up with uncles, aunts and cousins, meeting their kids and eating fabulous food from the camp kitchen. Here it is:

Wednesday I was outside, huge Tupperware bowl at my feet, picking blueberries as fast as I could. Suddenly storm clouds covered the sun, thunder sounded in the distance and a cold wind whipped through the trees. The blueberries danced out of reach. I grabbed onto leaves, fiercely determined to steady the waving branches, angry at the timing of the weather and angry at the thought of losing blueberries to yet another rainless storm.

It had been so dry for so long. When our regional summer weather pattern of localized pop-up afternoon thunderstorms had begun, it was our fields, our property, that got missed. Hope would arrive in the shape of cumulonimbus clouds, but it was others around who reported their relieved joy, measured quantifiably in tenths of inches. After a time, I felt my heart hardening each time the sky darkened. Certainly we had been praying for rain. Certainly it seemed our request fell on uncaring ears. "God, have you forgotten us?!" I had to ask, knowing the truth, but feeling something different. I wanted to leave when the storms blew up. I wanted to drive somewhere, anywhere, so I wouldn't have to be home when the clouds left our property rainless.

We want to protect ourselves against physical disaster, and to some extent we can. We wear seatbelts. We eat our vegetables. We own insurance policies, for crying out loud. But if only there were some kind of emotional insurance, to protect our hearts from being damaged or shattered. We live to please God. We make choices to honor Him. We expect His blessings, but we don't expect His blessings to come in a package of pain. Ironically, James says, "Consider it pure joy...whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."

The evening of the blueberry picking did end in rain. I was thankful, but in a begrudging sort of way. I felt like the spoiled child who had pitched a fit, manipulated parents, gotten what she wanted and then not enjoyed the undeserved result.

I felt guilty because I had been refusing the trial of drought. Instead of embracing God through my fear and receiving joy in His truths, I was choosing bitterness and hardheartedness.

The truth is, that even if the farm dries up and all is lost, God will still be in control. He will still be available. His presence is far more important than our present circumstances, though He cares about the details of our lives. The far greater tragedy would be success on the farm and loss of access to Him.

_____

We traveled to northern Indiana, my home area, after our reunion. While we were there, it rained buckets back home, so much so that Jason and all his farmer friends joked that we should have left a long time ago.

When I wrote this, there was more than weather on my mind. We are expecting another baby, due January 6th! While we are incredibly excited about the pregnancy, we are also scared out of our minds that it will once again end with no baby in our arms. I wish there were some way to protect our hearts from being smashed to bits. But as one of Jason's cousins articulated, "It's the risk you take by choosing to love."

One thing of which I am particularly fearful is that people might think we have moved on from our loss, and this is our replacement for Quinn, and that everything is neat and tidy in our emotional lives by now. Just the thought of that makes me so angry, and it's one reason I've delayed announcing my pregnancy. So please pray for us as we choose to love this baby, no matter what the outcome may be. We are choosing to trust God, our perfect Father, who has perfect knowledge and perfect love for us.

Owen and the Baler

Owen loves to be with his Daddy, and can easily drop whatever exciting thing he is doing under my supervision to join the work down at the farm shop or jump in Jason's truck for errands in town. Because of his inquisitive nature, he has been to places I never have and knows more about farm equipment than I ever will. I love to watch him identify with Jason and try to fit himself into his Daddy's world. The other day when our family walked into the farm shop to say hello to Jason, I saw that light in Owen's eyes and a very awed grin across his face and knew it was the beginning of the end.

One person Owen met and loved was Mrs. Beth, who worked the parts counter at Smith Tractor. She paid attention to him, and he definitely noticed her. When Mrs. Beth announced she was quitting, and her last week of work came up, Jason took Owen with him into the John Deere dealership. While Jason was conducting his farm business, Owen must have been perusing the toy aisle, because he came away talking about a round hay baler that he wanted to buy. That night, Jason helped him count the change in his bank, which happened to be a very small sum. Since Jason had promised Owen he would ask about the baler, the next morning he brought the toy up to the desk at Smith Tractor to ask Mrs. Beth how much it was.

That kind woman would not name the price until she had heard the contents of Owen's piggy bank. "And that's how much it is," she pronounced definitively. She took the hay baler, placed it under the counter and told Jason to bring in Owen.

Jason called me before I picked up Owen for school and gave me the low-down. He was in the fields and was not able to come into town, so he asked me to take Owen and his money in to Mrs. Beth.

The parts counter was hopping, so we waited our turn to do business. The vending machine guy was refilling his machines at the moment, and it was a little hard to pull Owen away from his place of observation. Mrs. Beth had everything ready, invoice included, and had figured a price that left Owen a little money to rattle in his bank. She and I counted the rolling coins, and the transaction was made official.I saved the invoice, made out in Owen’s name. When he is older, I think he will understand better the gift Mrs. Beth gave him, which was more than a 75% discount and a glimpse of her heart. For now, he is just enjoying the hay baler.

And here's a little glimpse of what the other two kids were doing: holding hands after fighting.

Shadows

I took this picture last December, a few days after my nephew Bryce was born, at a time when I felt thick pain all around me, as if it were a physical substance. It was everywhere I turned--I bumped into it in my kitchen as I was struggling to remember how to cook. I heard it in the surface chatter of friends.

I was also clinging to God as never before. No, let me say that I remember realizing that I couldn't even hold on--I had to trust him not to let me go. In those still, painful moments of quiet before God, He began to speak His truth to my heart. I felt his discipline, but I also felt his unfathomable love.

And so when I looked out from my kitchen window and saw that the suffocatingly grey sky had been transformed by the light piercing through the clouds and spilling itself over the dull earth, I was moved to tears. There is beauty in shadow.

Can't Believe It

We took a new step in parenting the other day when four-year-old Helen showed me this:I could even see the adult tooth barging its way into her mouth, the pushy thing!She toyed with her tooth for over a week, and finally when it was hanging off her gumline, I convinced her to pull it. Her timid, feathery attempts were cute and short-lived, and then she turned the job over to me. So proud!I often tell my kids to stop growing. They know I'm joking with them. It's both sad and wonderful that they're getting older, bigger and more complex.

For the record, Owen has had two wiggly bottom front teeth for the past several months, and it surprised my socks off to have Helen lose one first!

300th Post!!

Blogger Dashboard tells me this is a monumental post, so I'm sharing some recent kid-quotes to help me celebrate.

Jack:

"Mom, I told the tea not to hop out." (He had been exploring the fridge and its contents.)

After passing gas, "My buns popped!"

"I don't like mouse's tracks." (After getting his hand caught in a mouse trap.)

"My shie's untooed!!" (A double knot doesn't always keep that shoe lace neat.)

Favorite song: "The House is a Rocket," or "Cows in a Rocket," by Stevie Ray Vaughn. ("The House is Rockin'")

Favorite music artist: Blinkin' Rooster (Lincoln Brewster)

Favorite Bible story: Peter and the Rooster


Helen:

On her Sunday School lesson: "God told...uh....somebody...to bang on a rock with his cricket, and he did, and water fell out of it, and there was enough water for everybody."

parcort = carport

Princesscola = Pensacola

spoom = spoon

At night: "I hear a mower." Daddy--"A MOWER?!" Helen--"I'm making a mower sound with my snot!"

"Mommy, when I grow up and get married and have a baby, my baby is gonna not die."

With a true sparkle in her eye: "When I grow up, I am going to marry James, because he is NOT my cousin." (Watch out, Ava!!)

"Mom, I like my dad. And I like my mom."


Owen:

"Mom, we don't say 'Oh my God.'
We don't say 'Oh my gosh.'
Well, we could name a boy 'Josh,' and then, could we say 'Oh my Josh'?
No. That would sound funny."

After getting into candy that was off-limits and enduring the discipline: Mom--"What were you thinking when you saw the gumdrops?" Owen--"YUMMY!!!!"

"Mom, are you sad about Quinn?" Me--"Yes. Are you?" O--"No! I am happy!" Me--"Why?" O--"Because she is in Heaven!!"

precious kiss = Hershey's Kiss

After a quiz session on Kindergarten content, "Am I catching up to you?"

Hearing the story of Peter's denial of Jesus, "Was the rooster Peter's spanking?"

"You're a nice mom. I like you."

Gifts for My Newest Nephew

I love living in the South, but I sure miss my family back in the Midwest, especially when new babies arrive! Fortunately, I got to greet my brand new little nephew Deacon Liam over Christmas. He sure was a sweetie, and I think he still his, although he probably needs some Aunt Joyce kisses to keep him in line.

This was my welcome gift to him:


And a follow-up gift in the mail, because things got too crazy around Christmas to finish it then: