all creatures great and small...

"The Lord, in His wisdom,

gave us three things to make life bearable;

humor, hope and dogs.

But the greatest was dogs."

-Robyn Davidson 

we almost lost our sweet lucy in the fall of 2021.  as i reread this post i realized that this miracle was too good to NOT share so i'm posting it years later.  

it happened as most emergencies do... at the worst possible time for an emergency to happen and as an accident.  but we also found that God works miracles, not just for us, but those furry companions He's gifted us with.  

one monday night in september of 2021 we had rolled into the 7:00 PM witching hour... in our household it means we've embarked on the final push with our kids for the night.  they are usually on each others last nerve or done listening to us.  our patience is on its last leg.  we work really hard to get through from 7:00-7:45... reminding henley a million times to put her pajamas on and brush her teeth, keeping ophelia moving along and from distracting henley, and keeping leif from making the girls mad so that it all doesn't come crumbling apart.  all of this while doing dinner dishes, cleaning the kitchen up and packing lunches for the next day.  i always feel the deep partnership with kjaer during this hour.  we are tired, we are weary... and yet he links arms with me and we encourage each other on to show up and remain calm for the last chaotic hour of the night.   

so it was during this nightly routine we were standing in the kitchen working, calling to the girls to get out of the bathtub and chatting with leif that we saw lucy run by the window with something weird sticking out of her mouth.  i figured she must've caught a squirrel or had a toy... i'm thankful kjaer was more attentive.  i heard him say, "what is in lucy's mouth?" and he went outside.

i knew something was dreadfully wrong when leif's face went pale and he said, "i was trying to catch a raccoon but i think i just caught a lucy."

have you met my little leif?  he is a budding outdoorsman.  he loves fishing and setting traps for crayfish.  a couple of afternoons a week that fall we would walk by the fields at school (henley would rollerskate and i would walk some laps to get some steps in) so that leif could dive through the tall grass and catch garter snakes.  he is always concocting clever traps to catch animals.  usually i know he's in a trap-making mood when i find my recycling bin tipped over and him sifting through containers and bottles to find the exact thing he needs.  

... or just the can tipped over, recycling scattered about and no sign of children anywhere.

the problem with this amazing, unbridled curiosity and passion is he doesn't often think of repercussions.  for example, this particular day he had snuck into his tackle box (which we've already talked to him many times about) and had found a small barbed fish hook.  he then shoved it into the center of a chomps beef stick he had leftover from his hike the day before.  this was attached to fishing line with a red bobber on the end and meticulously buried in sand so that only the beef stick was showing.  leif was thinking of his fish hook like he knows it works with fishing.  it snags the fish in the cheek... he catches it... unhooks it... and sets it free.  he wasn't thinking about how a mammal's body is designed differently than a fish, or what would happen if he actually caught a mean old rotten raccoon or the ramifications if our sweet dog swallowed the hook.  

kjaer came walking in with fishing line and a red bobber... i was still registering what was happening but kjaer knew.  he has spent countless times unhooking fishing hooks from tree limbs and putting tackle boxes in timeout because they were meant for only fishing trips.  

he knew what had happened before i did.  

initially there was that anger that parents have... the "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE WE TALKED ABOUT THIS?!?" anger.  it stems from fear... right?  like this time, someone might actually be hurt because of being disobedient.  it's not just about another broken fishing pole or snapped line.  lucy's life was at risk.  

we started looking for the hook outside... telling leif we needed to know every single detail.  that his honesty was important.  leif felt terrible... he knew this was due to his choices and you could tell he wished so badly he could take them back.  we slowly trudged through the backyard with flashlights in hand... and we couldn't find any trace of the bait... which meant we couldn't locate the hook.  

meanwhile, lucy, in her ever persistent drive to catch a beam of light, chased our flashlight rays as we scoured the backyard for that hook.  

that freaking, barbed hook.

she was acting totally normal.  i wanted to believe she had miraculously missed it.  but deep down i knew better... leif is REALLY good at baiting hooks.  

we finished putting the kids to bed while lucy did her normal lucy things... laying by our feet during our chapter book, hopping up on henleys bed while we said goodnight to the girls, trotting down to leif's room and sprawling herself across his floor while we said goodnight to him. 

usually when i walk out of leif's room, i always rub her belly... even though she's going to immediately follow me upstairs to continue her nighttime routine next to my feet.  this night was no different.  i stopped down to give her one of her many nightly belly rubs and heard leif say sheepishly, "i hope lucy doesn't die because of me."

all i could respond with was, "me too, buddy.  me too."  

we had prayed together in leif's room... that lucy would be ok.  but i felt an impending dread.  our night was just getting started.

kjaer and i did a second flashlight round in the backyard, lucy quick at our heals to catch the beams of light.  not a single trace.  

we sat on the couch as lucy plopped herself in her second to last spot before her bedtime.  she sprawled out across our area rug in front of our large glass doors and snoozed while we conversed over tea.  only this time it wasn't about the school day or our normal night time banter.  this time it was about what the right thing to do was.  

i texted my sister in law... a vet.  i was trying to play it cool... but she knew right away this wasn't some hum drum thing.  she called me immediately and gave me the wisest counsel i could have ever asked for.  

it's a terrible thing to say money was one of the first things that popped into my mind.  like... this is going to be an emergency visit to an emergency vet.  those vets are not cheap.  maybe we can try the ol' wait and see approach.  she snapped me out of that place when she said the best thing to do was get an xray... that it would cost around $400 but then we would know either way.  we'd either walk away knowing for sure she hadn't swallowed the hook (and not having to worry all week) or we'd learn how bad the damage was.  the good thing was, she reminded me, that fishhooks are metal... so it would definitely show up on an xray.

then we had a stare down.  kjaer and i.  who was going?   because, you know, it's never convenient on a work night to go to the emergency room.  

kjaer went... bless his sweet soul.  he takes such good care of us and i think he knew i was about to lose my ever loving mind.  during that time i was in such a fragile place anyway.  i was tackling working full time for the first time in eight years and a newly diagnosed autoimmune disease left me exhausted and he knew it.  i love that man.  

i also reminded him that i'm the spender in the relationship so i would probably spend our life savings to save our pooch.  he'd be more diplomatic and not put us in the poor house.  

he came home within a half an hour.  they had a two hour wait just to get an xray so he had to leave her there and was able to come home.  he stayed up and waited for the phone call while i slept.  we had already decided he shouldn't work the next morning... so he busied himself writing sub plans.  around midnight we got the call.  the fishhook was lodged deep down in her esophagus.  they'd have to do an endoscopy.  kjaer gave them the go ahead and crawled into bed with me, whispering that she was going under anesthesia and hopefully they'd scope it out.  there was also some sleepy conversation about what it was going to cost us... and it was NOT cheap.  but it was still under our threshhold.  

around 3 AM the phone rang.  

the doctor doing the endoscopy called to say she had been trying for 3 hours and it hadn't budged.  she began asking us if we would consider surgery...  an endeavor that would cost over $10,000.  i sat on the other side of the the conversation, trying to pick up scraps from kjaer's steady voice.  my heart fell when he repeated that number back... "$10,000?"  i knew... we were going to have to put her down because that number on top of what we were already paying was astronomical.  had i been working full time for the past 8 years maybe we wouldn't have blinked... but i had just started the month prior, and we had just started to have some considerable breathing room financially.  but not enough to make that an easy check to write.   he hung up the phone and told me that the dr. was going to try for a couple more hours, but that we needed to start thinking of other options... like surgery or putting her down.  i began to weep over our dog.  

there comes a moment where you face how much you love something.  no one is immune to this... at some point you will be forced to reckon with losing someone you love and you will find that your love runs for them deeper than you anticipated.  

lucy had quietly wriggled her way into my heart.  sadly, it took me a little longer to connect to lucy than the rest of the family members because she was the dog we got to replace trooper... my original amazing fur baby.  but i sat there grieved.  i realized that she has become my companion and friend... that she dances happily when she sees me, gets up early in the morning during my quiet time for her neck scratches, lays precisely under or next to wherever i'm seated so that the tops of my feet rest on her strong and sturdy back.  she guards our house, loves our kids, heckles our chickens and has never done anything to warrant an early death over something so ridiculous.  

and then the realization came crashing down on me.  if this dr. couldn't get the hook out, we would have to put her down... and leif would forever carry the weight of lucy dying because of his poor choice.  this thought was to great to bear.  i sat in the dark and clasped hands with kjaer and we prayed outloud while i wept.  i can't remember what exactly we said... but the gist was "we know you love animals too because you made them.  please let her miraculously cough this hook like the big fish coughed up jonah.  she doesn't deserve this, Lord.  we need a miracle.  please don't let leif have to carry this burden for the rest of his life."  we pleaded.  i knew the odds were against lucy and us.... but i know too that God has shown up for me in the darkest pits of my life.  so if He could meet me there... He could meet us here too.  even if she was just a dog.  

i couldn't go back to sleep now.  my heart was full of worry.  this is how a mama gets when one of her tribe goes down.  the worry is greater than the need to sleep.  i immediately called in for work and began emailing my teachers i support.  my world was stopping for the day as we held our breath.  

by 6 am kjaer got the call that the doctor had still been unsuccessful.  they were going to wake lucy up and have another dr. try again later in the day.  she promised that they wouldn't charge us for two endoscopies but asked us again to consider the surgery.  

it felt a little like living in a nightmare.

i busied myself until it was time to wake the kids up.  i broke the news to them.  lucy wasn't here because we had decided to take her to the hospital to see if she had swallowed the hook.  leif maintained his composure but his questions told me he was full of guilt and shame.  he knew it was on him and it broke my ever loving heart every time he said it.  i didn't want it to be because of him.  i wanted desperately to rescue him from the pain, to make it not hurt, to erase the shame and the guilt.  henley's eyes welled with tears as she sobbed i don't want another dog mom.  apparently she takes after her mama and jumps to the worst case scenario.  we told them the best thing to do that day was go to school... that if something terrible was going to happen we would come and get them.  and we reminded them to pray and give their fear to God... He loves Lucy too.  He handcrafted that beautiful, brindle coat, her cold black nose and her crookity ear everyone adores. 

kjaer and i drove the kids to school and dodi (bless her) took ophelia to pre-k.   we came back home and settled in for the phone call from the next doctor.  we drank coffee, made banana pancakes and bacon and sat on our patio.  we kept praying and noticing how much we missed our lucy-lou rolling around in the grass and basking in the sun.  i kept thinking about how i just couldn't picture life without her... everything felt so bleak.   my heart didn't know how it could suffer the loss of her and the grief of our children.

around 9 AM the second dr. called.  again... i pieced things together while kjaer talked with her.  she had previously practiced in galveston, tx...  where she had removed tons of fish hooks.  in fact, she had never NOT gotten a fish hook out of a dog.  

(MIRACULOUS!!!)

my heart started jumping.  it couldn't be!

she warned kjaer, this fish hook was different and more difficult than ones she had seen before.  so she didn't want to get our hopes up.  she asked again about surgery.  kjaer told her we wouldn't be doing the surgery.  she asked, "because of the money?"  he answered back yes... and also that we were worried if the recovery would be brutal.  i connected it to my dad's almost-surgery back while he was fighting for his life from cancer.  doctors had often talked about doing an esophageal surgery with him, boasting promises of extended life/normal life.  my mother, being a nurse with over 40 years of experience (at the time... she just retired 52 years to the day of her first day!), said this was often not the case.  the quality of life would have been terrible if he had done it and most patients suffered for the rest of their lives.  i equated lucy's surgery to this... would we be doing something that would possibly just make her life worse to be selfish and keep her with us?  the doctor assured us that, no, she would have a 2 week recovery but they anticipated a full return to normal life.  but we knew it would still be foolish to spend $10000 on a surgery.  

she replied back, "we have a private donation that we think you qualify for that would cover all of the costs of surgery."

(SAY WHAT?!?)

she said they had a private donor who had given a lump sum of money under the strict guidelines that it must be for a family who couldn't spend the money on the surgery, with a healthy dog who had a good prognosis.

you guys... i know it isn't like lucy spit the hook up... but THAT was pretty miraculous.  God had covered ALL of the bases.  He had sent a doctor who has removed fish hooks regularly... she JUST HAPPENED to be the doctor on duty that day.  and then a private donor who would pay for the surgery if she couldn't. 

i wept again.

when prayers are answered so blatantly, you just can't help yourself.  

she hung up after clarifying with kjaer that she would confirm with the donor we were the right fit and that lucy's 2nd endoscopy would begin at 2:00PM.  

we were both so relieved we could hardly see straight.  we went to bed exhausted but hopeful and slept the day away. 

when we woke up, we went to pick the kids up from their various places.  kjaer went to get leif and henley and i went to get ophelia.  kjaer had called to tell me that they were putting lucy under while we were driving.  the slow motion minutes ticked by as we tried to do our 'normal" routine.  twenty minutes later kjaer called, with cheers and shouts of leif and henley in the background, because the doctor had successfully removed the hook with the endoscopy.

bringing lucy home was epically wonderful and miraculous... and we all knew it.  we buried our faces in her fur, scratched her belly and gave her, what leif calls, too many extra kisses.  she was home... she'd still be here with us.

you guys... i have experienced grace and peace on the deepest pits of my life because of God. time and time again i've cried out in fear, in pain, or just out of sheer exhaustion and He has showed up.  sometimes like a lover's whisper in my ear, like the bible describes in the original Hebrew when elijah was in a cave (I Kings 19:9).  sometimes louder than the roar of the fire i'm standing in (daniel 3:21-27). He is a God full of grace because He is the author of grace Himself. 

as Anne LaMott once said, "God: what a nut!"

so the next time you find yourself desperate and weeping... whether over a family member with cancer, the loss of a job, a marriage that's falling apart, or even a pet who might not make it...  whatever it might be.  "Cast all of your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you." (I Peter 5:7). He may be a nut for giving us His recklessly beautiful grace... but only because He's a nut about you.  He made you, you are His and what you think and feel matters to Him.  

The verse that we have walked by
daily for the last year on our way
out the door.

in the desert with some n'oatmeal and jesus...

many years ago... 15 years to be exact... I donned hiking boots, a bandana, a sunhat and my bible and did a hiking tour of israel.  i had been spurred by the uncertainty of my relationship with kjaer as we were still young and carving our own paths, getting closer to each other while he kept saying he didn't want to get married.  (maybe that deserves its own blog post).  desperate to figure myself out, i signed up for a tour and ventured overseas by myself for the very first time (i guess no one could ever accuse me of not being independent!).  it was an incredible journey that made my faith come alive and shaped me as i grappled with who i was and what i wanted.  

me and my roomie, shelley.  we met on this trip
and have been friends ever since!

was i really this young?

the tour was set up to mimic what it would have been like to follow a rabbi.  we often didn't know where we were going and our teacher would use the original hebrew and the landscape to teach scripture to us.  usually we would be dropped off knowing there was a destination in mind... an old archeological dig site or something to hike to.  

this particular morning our bus dropped us in the middle of nowhere... in the deserts of israel (israel isn't all desert, by the way.  this was just the particular area we were in during a portion of our trip).  any direction you looked... there was nothing.  

just rocks... and maybe some camels.  

see?  camels.

our rabbi started walking and we all uncomfortably looked at each other as he forged his way into the nothingness.  

so we followed.

i was painfully aware i was wandering in a literal desert... 

the terrain wasn't sandy like in the movies... it was rocky and void of life.  

and we just kept walking.  

soon we ended up by a group of children and a few sheep.  this was where we stopped.

for awhile we watched these kids, tossing rocks around their herd... keeping them together and moving them using the sounds of rocks landing by their little sheep feet.  their aim was impeccable as they chatted and played and tossed rocks.

eventually, the silence was broken by our rabbi... who started reciting psalm 23.

some people joined in... after all, it's an all time church favorite.  then it was over as the hot desert wind whipped the cords of our sunhats around and we stood waiting expectantly.

then he said words i will never forget.

THESE ARE THE GREEEN PASTURES

my american image of green pastures - which actually looked a bit like Ireland - flickered and then shattered.  you see, david had been a shepherd in israel before becoming a king and penning this psalm... in this actual geographical place.  stooping down you could see a little clump or blade of grass here and there... but it was by no means the fields of ireland.

what i learned that day and have tried to hang onto over these years is that God gives us just enough.  He doesn't just plop us in a green field and forget about us.  He is with us in the harshest terrain, the sometimes bleakness of life, pointing out the blades of grass and fighting off the wild beasts that would devour us... if we let Him (and even when we don't, too).  

He gives us just enough. 

i'm writing this because, my friends, i feel like i am in that desert again.  and as i sat down this morning for my quiet time... my coffee with too much cream in hand, i read psalm 23 and felt my young, athletic 20 something year old self standing uncomfortably in that 100+ degree rocky, desert realizing that my God didn't promise me the fields of ireland...

...but He did promise me that He'd take care of me.

this past year has been hard for everyone.  we've had those typical Covid stresses.  all of the stuff that came with our children learning at home for first semester, working from home simultaneously, jobs we had to relearn and the stress of living in a world up-side-down.  we've been there... done that.

kjaer was overaged this year at his school and is leaving the place he has called home for the past 14 years.  this has been devastating.  my part time status wasn't funded by the district for the next year.  this has flipped our family life on its head as i prepare to return to work full time for the first time in 9 years.  people we love suffered from Covid and were hospitalized.  a few people we love lost their homes due to rent increases and some have had to consider moving out of state because they can't afford the market here in colorado (and they happen to be a huge part of my support system).  i'm telling you... it's been one brutal punch after another.

on top of all of this, i have had unexplained health things happening to me in spite of working fastidiously to take care of myself, eating extremely healthy (we'd done a couple of rounds of whole30 and continued to eat that way 90% of the time) and exercising.  first, i began feeling drained all of the time.  my days home with ophelia felt unproductive and exhausting.  i began gaining weight for no reason... even though i was counting calories and measuring my food and exercising. in september i broke out in an unexplainable rash that lasted for about 6 weeks.  when i chatted with a doctor they just shrugged and said i should probably be looked at by an immunologist but failed to write the referral as my rash had been mostly healed by then.  then, i started having terrible stomach pains, waking up in the middle of the night to a stabbing sensation on my right side.  an ultrasound in december revealed nothing.  january i had a random breast biopsy... which felt traumatizing as i had just gone in for a routine mammogram and before i knew it they were prepping me for a surgical procedure.  (don't worry, it came back clean).  a couple of weeks later i broke out in a bigger rash.  this one covered my entire torso, my arms and started creeping up my neck (don't worry, i won't post pictures of it! 😂)  an immunologist suggested crazy things... bed bugs, laundry detergent.  nothing turned up.  he asked me to have my ferritin levels checked (part of an iron panel) but for a myriad of reasons i didn't go get my blood drawn.  instead i met with a dermatologist who had diagnosed me before she even talked to me because of the pictures we sent her.  i had pityriasis rosea, a rash that lasts 10-12 weeks that is usually caused by an immune response to a virus.  she asked me if i had been sick... which i hadn't.  we were all stumped.  it vanished early march... and i was glad to be done with it.  a week later i started having shortness of breath and my chest felt tight.   nothing seemed to help.  i tried my inhaler, breathing treatments, and allergy meds.  after two weeks of gasping for air (and a negative covid test) i chatted online with a kaiser doctor who tried sending me to the emergency room.  i was like, "i just am having trouble breathing and pressure in my chest, it's not chest pain."  to which she replied, "actually, that IS the definition of chest pain."  but i had already paid through the nose for a biopsy and was 90% sure i wasn't dying of a heart attack so i pushed back and asked if i could come into a clinic.  appointments were a month out but she reluctantly agreed and squeezed me in.  they did an EKG and chest Xray (which i passed with flying colors) and drew a bunch of blood.  nearly everything came back perfect... but that ferritin test from months before had also been there waiting in the cue.  it came back at a 4... normal levels are 18-300 mcg/L.  essentially my red blood cell count was extremely low... meaning that i was having trouble transferring oxygen around the body and my organs were screaming at me that they needed air.

kaiser was of little use.  my primary care physician returned my blood labs (she was filling in for the doctor who saw me in the clinic) and nonchalantly said i had a mild case of anemia.  she suggested i talk to my primary care doctor to find out about my iron levels... to which i mentally replied "YOU ARE MY FREAKING PRIMARY CARE DOCTOR!"  she had also not taken into account my ferritin test that had been ordered by a different doctor and was failing at seeing a bigger health picture.  

i was suffocating.

when i told her i had started an over the counter iron supplement and within an hour i could breath better... she told me she didn't think that was what helped me.  whatever, lady.  i know what happened.  (also... you were too lazy to look at the levels of my ferritin test because you didn't order that one... but it still counts).

feeling disillusioned, i decided to try a naturopathic doctor, dr. miller.  you guys know that since my VBACs with Henley and Ophelia i've been a little, how shall we say it... experimental with my healthcare.  i've been frustrated by doctors over and over again and have found such good healing with looking at ways to address root causes with things like diet and herbs.  so, with my fresh labs in hand, i met with her one spring day... i was having such a hard time breathing on the drive there i removed my bra while driving.  i actually tried to convince myself that maybe it was my bras that had made breathing so difficult for the past month.  i was second guessing myself.... something i had gotten really good at doing for the previous 7 months.

first of all... she spent 2 hours with me pouring over the bloodwork and my medical history.  it was so validating to hear that the things the doctors were shrugging off were no shrug-worthy matter.  when she saw my ferritin she expressed how uncomfortable she was with that number.  she confirmed i couldn't breath because of my low ferritin levels and set out to find the root cause.  she also confirmed that this was why i could start breathing better when taking the iron... like i had thought.  the larger question was, why was my body losing blood?  we have done many tests over the past few months... some have not been so pretty.  i may have even submitted to a stool sample that i had to do at home with my three young children knocking on the door at precisely the worst moment... but i digress.  by may we had ruled out internal bleeding, meaning that my loss of blood was being contributed to by my heavy menstrual cycle. however, the tests were bringing back some other red flags and we still had to figure out why i was losing so much blood.   

by mid-june i was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease called Hashimotos Thyroiditis... 

a crushing revelation, of sorts.

when i was diagnosed it was like everything fell into place... the exhaustion, the unexplained weight gain, the low iron, the heavy periods... it all made sense and yet felt scary all at once.  while i can work to put my hashimotos into remission,  it is going to take extreme dietary measures (AIP)... like more extreme than whole 30... and a lot of tweaking meds and herbs.  remission, if it happens, can be a 6-12 month journey... sometimes years for people.  the other frustrating thing is we still are digging for the root cause.  so now we are onto a whole other round of testing for SIBO and food sensitivities.  the goal in getting to the root cause is to heal that part of me that caused my immune system to go haywire and then work forward from there.  addressing the root cause can give me a better chance to put my body into remission.

on top of it all, apparently my immune system has also reactivated Epstein-Bar virus in my body (mono)... because, why not?  firstly, i never even knew i've had mono in the past.  secondly, that you could reactivate it.  reactivated EBV can cause a whole host of health problems including chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalgia, thyroid issues, lupus, vertigo, tinnitus and can contribute to anxiety, chest pain and asthma.  dr. miller seemed more concerned about treating the EBV virus with a ten week protocol before hitting the hashimotos hard core and so i've been spending the month of july stocking my freezer with AIP recipes and finding ones that i like so that when i return to work i can successfully heal my body while following a strict protocol to support my immune system in "turning off" EBV.  

you guys... i'm making weird ass things like carrot and banana n'oatmeal and spaghetti squash porridge for breakfast right now.  (both of which are extremely delicious, surprisingly!)

adding to the stress of this is the AIP diet.  when doing whole30 and basically cutting every food from God's green earth... i relied heavily on some staples... eggs, nuts and seeds, potatoes and coffee.  ALL of these will need to be eliminated from one to several months for me to be able to heal. 

did you hear me?  ALL OF THEM.

when dr. miller was like, "don't worry... there are lots of delicious coffee substitutes out there",  i nearly fell out of my chair and begged the sweet Lord to take me home.  (and the sad thing is... after our lovely chat i started drinking the almond amaretto herbal coffee  for my afternoon and evening cups. i even convinced myself i could come off of coffee only to learn i can't have the nut coffees on AIP 😭).

all that to say... i feel like i'm in a freaking terrible, endless, rocky desert you guys... and it keeps getting hotter.  oh... have i mentioned that my autoimmune disease gets worse if you are stressed?   so there's the cherry on top!

a couple of weeks ago, i woke up, took my kids to swimming lessons, drove home, started boiling hot dogs and had to lay down mid-boil and ask kjaer to take over because i was too exhausted to finish.  as i laid there on the couch, tears dripping down my cheeks, i felt myself crying out to God.  

how in the world am i supposed to be able to work full time when i can't boil f-ing hot dogs?

i felt isolated, alone and scared.  consumed by the worries of letting down my family, my colleagues and myself.  i was and am terrified that the busyness of a full time job might push me to the brink if i couldn't even go to swimming lessons and boil hot dogs without taking a nap.

i'm in the desolate desert and i'm worried i won't be able to get out without some sort of mental break down or my autoimmune disease ramping up even more.  

being the planner i am, i've started trying to prep myself.  call it what you will... but i'm calling it self-care.  i'm trying to hire a housecleaner, i've asked our babysitter to take on light housework this next schoolyear and the kids' laundry (an idea that i think is quite brilliant), i'm cooking and freezing meals for the fall and my AIP adventure, i've taken up yoga, i'm planning on walking during my lunches as work.  i'm trying to anticipate the challenges and be proactive.  but it still leaves me feeling overwhelmed and exhausted.  

so this morning as i sat down in my chair and started reading... i read psalm 23 and was moved.  i felt it, you guys... like to my core.  i have read and recited that psalm my entire life without skipping a beat... and today God grabbed me by the hand and walked me through my previous valleys of the shadows of death (which were way worse than my green pastures right now)... my rebellious pits i put myself in, the horrific illness and loss of my father, my postpartum depression, and some hairy stuff i walked beside kjaer through a few years ago.  and if felt it like a whisper and a loud roar all at once.

I was there with you.

I will be here with you.

and then i did what any bona-fide church girl does when she hears just what she needs from God.  

i started singing great is thy faithfulness... obviously.  

what?  that's not what you would do?

it's true though, because when i heard those words above... my heart remembered everything He has carried me through.  i mean... God and i have been through some sh-- together.... you know?  He's been my ride or die for the last two decades.  and always on the other side of those dark pits came a new facet to my faith and a new understanding about myself.  

i understand that this can make some people uncomfortable... and rightfully so.   a lot of folks have been hurt by the church or someone who claims to be a Christian, or have been scared to believe or resistant or simply just don't believe in God... that's ok.  but the thing is... i do.  so i just wanted to let you all know what's in my gas tank as i head into a year that feels bigger than 2020 was for me.  and here's the thing about God... whether you believe in Him or not... He's a gentleman... He won't force Himself on you like imperfect humans often try to do or scare you into submission.  just know that He's there if/when you call... just like He was for me 21 years ago on my apartment floor when i had reached rock bottom and was wishing death upon myself.  He was there and He'll be here...

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.  Lamentations 3:22-23

so should we cross paths sometime in the next few months... just know i'm working through some stuff.  i'll probably have a headache from lack of caffeine so if you call my name i might squint at you or even look at you with contempt.  please don't hold it against me... it's the coffee's fault for being bad for my adrenals.  i may also be carrying around some sort of weird root vegetable breakfast doused in coconut milk with a catchy name like "n'oatmeal".... don't hold that against me either.  i may also have to relearn how to have professional hair and have outfits that don't include leggings... give me a few months to figure this all out.  it's just to much to be a glamorous working mom for me right now.  because underneath it all i'll be working my way through a low valley for myself... a change in my family life as i leave behind my part-time days for now, trying to kick some auto-immune disease ass, and trying to find rest and peace enough to heal when life feels so wild and crazy right now.  

because the main thing i came here to say is... today i was reminded that i won't be doing it alone.  and that feels a bit like an oasis to me... something i can rest in and know.  so i'm going to sit my little self down in this dessert with my n'oatmeal and lean on my shepherd... because without Him i'd be walking into a wasteland of despair this next school year...  but with Him i have hope.

peace restored...

you guys... lately i don't know what in the world is happening, but it feels like everyone is hurting.  

oh.my.stars.the.hurt.

nearly every day a tragedy or worrisome situation is whispered in my ear and causes me to clutch my heart in grief.  it feels as if the last christmas tree was taken down and with it went the last ounce of hope or joy for awhile.  i mean... there's joy in some places... there has to be... but lately it feels like it is eclipsed by a dark cloud.

kjaer and i have both been carrying home these stories in our hearts, like fragile pieces of glass; sharing them with each other and then praying over them at the dinner table.  but i have to admit, after what we've brought home to lift up over the past two weeks, i've gotten sucked into the dread.  

here's a little tidbit about me i bet you could've already guessed: i've been known to get a little worried from time to time. (!) i've experienced a few of my own tragedies in the last decade and it's often hard for me to separate myself from other people's situations.

so i became overcome with fear last week... more specifically jan 11 and jan 12.  it was very messy and borderline crazy-person-behavior.  i began to think that because other people were experiencing tragedy that my own was just around the bend.  this is a very dangerous place to be in your mind.  suddenly you are picturing the worst possible scenarios for every moment of your day.  it's all conjured and pretend... but you believe it could be true.  it's all very erratic and intoxicating... like you're drunk on grief and fear.  

so right about the time i was at my breaking point, i decided to pray (because, why do that first... am i right?  geez, when will i learn?) and take it to Jesus.  there was a lot of selfish whining and pleading (because fear and worry make you do that too) begging for the protection of those i love and requests for peace... LOTS of requests for peace.  when i removed myself from the pile of tears i was on the floor... i didn't feel more peaceful or less worried... just tired from all of the drama i had immersed myself in so selfishly.  so i asked for a sign and went to bed.

i feel ashamed to write this,  knowing the hurt that people i care about are in.  here they were H.U.R.T.I.N.G. - and here i was, perfectly unscathed, begging to stay that way.

it's in our nature i suppose.  but it doesn't make me feel better about it.

the next morning i was still feeling a little uneasy... like the roof might collapse on me or something.  i was eating breakfast with my beautiful children and decided to crack open their new devotion book.  i had gotten it for Christmas with the intention of reading one every day with them (seeing as how they are dated that way) but had already failed.  I'd made it to January 2 and it was January 13.

so i read january 3 to leif (why skip the days?  i'm not getting graded on this!) and he loved it.  we talked about the pictures and then he asked to read another one.  so we read another.

i was getting a little nervous that he was going to ask me to read 365 straight days of devotions to him.

but he didn't.  he did, however, ask for another and turned to two specific pages.  (i later went back and looked at the dates out of curiosity and they were, quite spectacularly, January 11 and 12.)  i closed the book and told him we could read those another day.  he opened the book, flipped through it back to those two days and demanded in his most bossy, almost-three year old way to read them to him.  the two titles read this way...

Jan 11... King of the Earth

"How awesome is the Lord Most High, the great King over all the earth!" Psalm 47:2

Jan 12... Don't Worry

"Don't worry about anything, but pray and ask God for everything you need." Phil 4:6

pregnant pause... inhaling peace.

there, staring me in the face, was my sign.

My dearest Monica,

I'M in charge of everything, don't worry... just talk to ME.
Love and kisses, GOD.

so here's the thing.  our world is broken.  we all experience pain, loss, sickness and grief during different seasons.  no one can hide from it.  none of us can ever have pain free lives.  BUT, our joy comes out of pain.  the tears we cry can heal our wounds and grow us into something more incredible than we were before.  

and like my aunt kathy said, when she took my scared little face in her hands this week so i would look her square in the eyes while i sobbed through terrified tears,

 "DO NOT LET FEAR ROB YOU OF YOUR JOY."

the heart?  it can be deceitful sometimes.  it can get us wound up tighter than a corkscrew over nothing but an idea... an IDEA.  no facts to go off of... just an idea that was whispered into your mind by fear.   and fear can make you do things that just make no sense at all... or NOT make you do things.  

i read an interesting fact the other day that an African impala can jump to a height of over 10 feet and cover a distance of greater than 30 feet.  However, in the zoo, they can be kept in an enclosure with a 3 foot wall.  They will not jump if they cannot see where they will land... fear. 

Faith is the ability to trust what we cannot see, and should we choose to live with faith, we are freed from the frail prisons that entice us with fear.

so today i'm giving the fear back, over and over again, to my Creator... the King of the Earth.  i choose faith.  i stayed home sick today and sent my kids to daycare because i wasn't feeling 100% and needed to rest.  when i was washed over with fear that something would happen to them, i laid flat on the floor like some crazy lady and said, "take it God... it's too big for me... take it.  don't let me yank it back." 

and then i decided, i'm going to bask in the joy of an empty home for a few hours... blog, nap, take care of myself.  tonight, when the energy and noise return with the arrival of my precious family, i'm going to bathe myself in the clatter and hum of our little brood.  it doesn't mean i'll never worry... knowing me, i'll worry all of the time.  but i'll do my best to lean on the One who told me not to worry about today.  i'll concern myself with how i can be the catalyst to those hurting around me with problems like brain tumors, homelessness, starving bellies, other peoples children who don't feel loved... and how i can possibly make a difference.  after all, i wasn't called to be on the earth to worry about myself... i was called to minister to the broken.  

today i'm choosing to take a leap and have a little more faith than yesterday.  today i choose to turn my back on fear and live with joy.

some of many moments of joy from 2014

ramblings of a pierceless wonder...

you guys...

i lost my crap the other morning..

and not just a little.

lost.it.

as in, stomped off to my room, threw myself down on our bed and howled until i could howl no more.

kjaer and i used to call these sorts of days D-days (daddy days) after my dad died.  it was a code word to tell him it was basically pointless to try and make me happy... because i just needed to be sad and have myself a good cry and move through the day with puffy eyes.

that's what the other day was... a D-day.

if you asked me why... which is probably what you're wondering... i'm not sure that i could even tell you.  i mean... i know the incident that set the whole emotional downslide into motion, but it's really a cacophony of thoughts that have been running through my mama brain for weeks now.

that morning, the minor straw that broke the camels back was that i was sitting in our beautiful sunroom trying to wake myself up after a lo-o-o-o-ng night.  i can't really describe why the night was so terrible... but it was.  it was one of those nights where you are sure you probably got some rest in there, but it came in increments of 30 minutes here, 20 minutes there.  henley, who is usually an awesome sleeper, was moaning and groaning the way a baby would if they could toss and turn.  i had pulled her into bed with me around midnight and after two hours of (refusing to get out of bed) trying to snuggle and nurse her into submission... i finally gave in and went into the nursery, changed her diaper and nursed her in the chair.  she was dead asleep in less than 5 minutes.  when i went back to my room i put her in her rock and play... because even though i love having her in my bed, it was 3 AM and i had hardly slept at all.  the minute... i kid you not... my head touched the pillow leif started wailing for me from his little mattress on the floor.  kjaer was sleepily trying to get up and get to him... but i was up so i decided to be a martyr i suppose.  pooooooor meeeeee, i'm a mama and evrrrrrrry bodyyyyy neeeeeeeds meeeeee.  after throwing a mini fit into my pillow...i went and laid with him on his mattress and promptly fell into a restless sleep until 5.  when i woke up i tiptoed back to my bed... exhausted and ready to soak up a handful of hours of good sleep.  about 20 minutes later henley was ready to eat again.  so i pulled her back into bed and fell asleep nursing her.  i then i had weird dreams about my daddy... whose anniversary of his death is this week.

 so... i could feel i was fragile that morning already.  kjaer was playing with leif in the kitchen and i had taken henley with me outside in the backyard to let trooper out.  as i was out there i just sunk with henley into the grass... it was like i just needed to feel the earth beneath my feet, the grass between my toes... something to ground me.  henley seemed perfectly happy sitting in the grass and so we sat... avoiding the clamor that comes with a two year old boy who has just had his whopping 12 hours of sleep.  then i got up and moved into our beautiful sunroom... soaking up some sunshine and trying to absorb my dreams from the night before.  i just wanted to idle there for awhile.  sink into my surroundings and enjoy this place i call home.

so i'm sitting there... and leif comes running over delighted to see me.  he's in his santa claus jammies, eating a bowl filled to the brim with strawberries.  his blue eyes are sparkling and he has the silliest shock of bed head in his beautiful red curls.  he keeps climbing up into my lap and down, pushing and poking at my sack of potatoes that i loathingly call my body right now.  i don't mind so much... he's so happy and sweet and kind.  the whole time i'm thinking... 

damn, that kid is one amazing masterpiece.

and then he cracked my phone.

the back story is that my phone has been broken a few times.  we have some service plan that replaces it absolutely free... so i shouldn't really care...  except that the employees of best buy mobile are starting to treat me like i'm doing it on purpose.  i hate it.  i hate it when people assume the worst about me because i am not THAT person.  and then they always replace my phone with a refurbished phone with more problems... and it usually takes 3-4 refurbished phones until i can get one that acts like a good phone should.  so i'm sure it looks to them... on paper... like i've had my phone replaced a gajillion times over the past two years... when really it's been my fault (or leif's) about 4 of those times.

so... leif picks up my phone... which i had purposely moved out of eyesight 5 minutes earlier so it wouldn't be tempting for him...  but somehow he spotted it, picked it up and it slipped from his hands.

i didn't curse... though i wanted to.

i just sat there.

and then i became leif's jungle gym again.  he's crawling and poking and prodding and he won't leave me alone.  only now it isn't cute.  it was then that the cork popped off... i couldn't handle it anymore.  i moved leif aside and ran off to my room like a school girl and threw a big crying fit in my bed.

so i'm sobbing on my bed... telling myself that i just need a good cry.  but as i'm crying, the intensity with which i'm doing so is ramping up.  i feel like i mentally floated above my body and looked down on myself and saw the craziness unfolding there... and i starting flipping through all of the things that are making me upset... because i knew a phone that could easily be replaced couldn't matter this much.

first of all... we have been battling a diaper rash with henley for almost 3 months now.  finally... FINALLY... we figured out that she has super sensitive skin and can't even wear the plastic covers that go over her cloth diapers (and disposables have the same effect). so now i have to switch over to wool and fleece covers... which are much more involved than the little plastic covers that we have come to love.  and wool is expensive... so it's like we're having to make another small financial investment right before i have to send two children into part time daycare and we're already cinching up our belts.  it's a learning process and i just want it to be simple like cloth diapering has been with leif.

and speaking of those two kids going into daycare... one of them REFUSES a bottle.  she is the easiest baby i have ever met... except with this one crux.  everyone is telling me not to stress... but our daycare provider keeps nervously asking me if henley is taking the bottle yet... like EVERY time i see her (we still bring leif once a week in the summer) and it makes my blood pressure jump.  i feel so... pressured.

i don't like pressure.

and then yesterday (*Sigh*) i remembered that i hadn't put my tongue ring back in from my visit to the dentists office last week.  i was feeling particularly self conscious... looking like a ragamuffin.   and not the cute kind... like all of my girlfriends with the cute yoga pants and tank tops and doo-rags.  no... as in giant maternity shirts fresh with spit up stains and water from lanolizing some wool covers, unshaven legs, crazy hair and glasses.  so i decided to put my tongue ring back in that i had discreetly tucked into my wallet when they took x-rays at the dentist because i thought it would make me feel a little bit like my old self.  it was the only piercing of my many at the dentist's office that i thought, "oh, i'll just do it when i get home."  well... by the time i had remembered, the hole was closed.  i tried to go from underneath and above.  i thought about just ramming it through the new skin.  and then i could feel my daddy laughing at me from up above... because i had promised my parents years ago that when i got married i would take it out for my wedding day and never put it back in.  then my daddy died (around the time i got engaged).  as my wedding drew closer my mom reminded me about "that stupid tongue ring" and my promise.  i told her i didn't recall making such a promise and laughingly reminded her that she couldn't prove that i had because the only other witness was dead.  

she didn't think i was very funny.

but now here i sat... not one shred of me feeling attractive... and this stupid tongue ring... which must've had signified my beauty and youth was being rejected by my tongue. (who's laughing now, right?)

you wouldn't think it would matter after 15 years... but apparently i had a lot of identity tied up in it.

suddenly all of my sex appeal... or what i had left of it after having children... was left on the counter in the bathroom and my emotions were plummeting.  so i did what any depressed and unsexy mom would do.

i went grocery shopping looking like a total wreck.

i mean, i figured i already felt like crap... let's just get this shiz over with.

and then i'm catching my reflection in the dairy cases and thinking, so it's come to this, has it?

here's the thing, people.  it's not really about a phone breaking, or a tongue ring that won't go through it's hole.  it's about me feeling so unlike myself that i cling to these tangible things that i perceive as "attractive" or "cool" about me.  my iPhone isn't fat or greasy... it's sleek and stylish.  my tongue ring doesn't have lumps and bumps where it shouldn't... it is young, hip and sexy.  i don't have to worry about putting them on diets or squeezing them into too small clothes.  they don't have to wear clothes that are wayyyyy to big for them either.  they are perfect, unchanging, tiny little objects that i've staked my value on because i've forgotten who i thought i was... or as leif so sweetly proclaims i "got-for" who i was.

i've read the inspiring blogs and articles my mommy friends post to facebook... hell, i repost them too.  the ones where the mommy's are proud of their tiger striped stretch marks, their soft bellies and cellulite.  i've even been moved by some... the other day i put up a picture of myself on facebook of me at the zoo with my kids... even though when i looked at it i could feel my insides churn at the sight of myself. i've been inspired to wear a swimsuit and not miss out on making memories with my children this summer... except all i have right now is a damn, old lady looking, maternity suit that i feel like crap in.

if i only had money... yes, money would fix all of this.  money and being skinny.  

and probably wine... lots of wine.

but here's the truth.  here's the revelation i'm having.  yes i want to be the mama who doesn't care what others think and embraces who she becomes.  i will be that mama... just not today.  today this mama also needs to grieve what she's lost.  i've lost my athletic body... it's somewhere under these giant nursing boobs and post-partum belly.  and even though i've been watching what i eat and have started running again... the boobs and belly are still there.  my loving husband... who knows me all too well... likes to remind me that i just grew a tiny miracle and it'll all come back with time.  he strokes my hair and tells me i'm lovely and not to worry and i want to clench my fists and stammer through gritted teeth BUT I WANT TO FEEL SEXY AGAIN, RIGHT NOW!!!!  

even more unfair than losing my image of who i was... is that i lost my daddy and our (greatest accomplishments) babies will never know their opa on this side of heaven.  well... i say they'll never know... but leif seems to have some sort of spiritual connection with him.  he tells me when we pull up to oma's house "opa is here" or when my mom was watching the kiddos so i could nap when henley was born he looked up from his toys and quietly said, "opa went bye-bye." just yesterday (this probably is also contributing to my emotional train wreck) he pointed to a picture in a book we were reading and said, "that's an opa."  and wouldn't you know it... it looked just like him... bald head, happy grin and plaid shirt... even though leif has maybe seen 2 pictures of my dad in his life.

my dad was the original safe harbor before i fell in love... the OG.  if I had D-days like this before he was gone, i would crawl up into his lap and he would anchor me.  he was the earth beneath my feet and the grass in between my toes.  he may have thought i was crazy or a bit nutty, but i was also his daughter... one of his masterpieces too.  so that softened the insanity surrounding me, i'm sure, and allowed him to let me take shelter under his wings for a speck of time while i recovered without too much scrutinizing.

now i have a husband, who my daddy passed his mantle onto rather dramatically, and he is also trying to figure out this parent thing.  he's waking up next to this hormonal, puffy woman who goes all sorts of batty when her tongue ring hole closes and her iPhone cracks.  he probably doesn't recognize me in all of this either... but he does a fabulous job of holding down the fort while i take a D-day to sort through the emotional mess that is me.  he's my harbor... where i dock my little boat and wait out the storm.  but i'm also his harbor... so that makes it a different type of relationship than what my dad and i had.  we have to take turns losing our crap and picking up each others broken pieces... and i think we do a damn good job at it if i say so myself.

but i haven't fully gotten to the revelation yet, have i?

it is this... sometimes we all need a D-day.  a day where all that gets accomplished is having a good cry, making the bed and then watching a movie.  a day where we stand with mouths agape as we stare at the scary role of parenthood and wonder if we'll ever survive.

but a D-day is also something else.  it is defined as an important day for an operation to begin.  it's a day to pull yourself up by the bootstraps (in my case, after laying in a puddle for a bit of time) and take on the role that's been gifted to you.  a day to accept your challenge and strategically move on.

so for me... this means i need to accept that i'm not as hip and skinny as i once was (or thought i was).  accept that my daddy's physical presence is gone from this world.  accept that being a mother is stinking h.a.r.d. and trying to be a good one and a rockin' wife can often leave me feeling like a waste of space by the end of the day.

the operative word in all of this is acceptance... of who i am and what i'm becoming.  acceptance of the woman who stands in front of the mirror at the end of the day with no tongue ring, a chubby mama belly and a gap between my two front teeth when i smile.  because that woman can conquer mountains.  that woman does the best she can every single day by the grace of God.  and though there are failures, and tears (and childish temper tantrums that involve wailing on my part), and hiccups... it is ultimately the operation at hand... and nobody said it'd be perfect.

so i tell myself it's ok to fall into a mess of tears and sobs every once in awhile.  but after i've exhausted those frustrations, it'll be time to lace up those boots and get a move on girl. 

 throw your arms around those who love you, lean in and press on.  

and one day i'll look back on this challenging season of my life and see it for all of the splendor it really was... the chunk of time where i got to know and love myself for the beautiful mess i am... and embraced it.

love wins...

this blog was originally written around valentines day... but i didn't finish it (for an obvious 8.1 lb reason named henley!).  i didn't mind... i figured the following month i could finish it and post it for our anniversary.  that didn't happen.  so here it is... several months late.  

let me let you in on a little secret about kjaer and i...

we were destined...

had you told me ten years ago today that i would marry the man standing in front of me... i would have probably fainted in ecstasy and laughed in your face all at once... and that would be AFTER picking my jaw up off of the floor.

because it was about ten years ago that i sat with my mother, totally frustrated by the male species and ready to swear off men and be alone for the rest of my days.  

my life had been a series of unrequited infatuations with boys who paid no attention to me.  i have always wondered why this was... i couldn't figure out why some girls had the boys lined up around the block and why i was always their "cute friend" who couldn't seem to snag a boy if she tried.  i had recently experienced this with a couple of guys who had i really liked and who ignored the fact that i was even datable material.  

i was really beginning to think that something was wrong with me.

you hear me?

w.r.o.n.g.

i mean... how could i be so invisible to the male species?

so i was whining about this to my mom... who challenged me with what seemed like an absurd suggestion at the time.  she said, "why don't you ask God to reveal your husband to you?"

i laughed... probably snorted a little.

and then i went home that night and prayed my guts out.

i think i even cried... it was an act of honest sincerity and desperation.

that night i dreamed about a handsome man with a beard and when he hugged me, my face went into the safety of his chest.  in my dream i couldn't make out his features very well, just his beard.  i woke up feeling a little unnerved, thinking that i had dreamed my spouse was going to be Jesus.  and well... that made me feel a little... awkward and unholy. 

not that i ever feel holy... i'm just sayin'...

when my mom asked me about it i said,

thanks a lot mom.  now i just feel like a pervert because apparently i'm going to marry Jesus.

and, to make it worse, it was one of those dreams where i woke up in love.  i seriously walked around for days feeling like i was in love with this person already, even though i didn't know who they were.  some friends of mine suggested kjaer because he worked with me and he was the only person i knew with a beard.  but honest to the G.O.D., i did not even make that connection.  

several months later, kjaer asked me to go watch a meteor shower in the middle of the night and the rest is, as they say, history.

it wasn't until i was married for a few months already when my mom reminded me of that dream and i realized that God had been revealing kjaer to me.... not Jesus.  and wouldn't you know... when he hugs me, my face goes right into his chest.

so... he's literally the man of my dreams... if you catch my drift.

but he snuck up on me like a thief in the night because we were friends first...

i think i hooked him into being my friend when i came to school my first year of teaching with a BRAND NEW CAR.  i didn't really have a ton of friends yet but i really wanted to show someone my NEW CAR.  the hallways were inexplicably empty except for this handsome fellow i had talked a couple of times with.  somehow this came up when he and i passed in the hallway and he, very enthusiastically said, "well, i'll go out and see your new car!"  so we marched out to the parking lot at 7:30 in the morning for the big reveal.  i was twittering with excitement.  it was my NEW CAR and somebody (especially a handsome somebody) cared!

i can't even imagine what went through kjaer's head when we arrived at said NEW CAR.  i'm not sure what he was expecting... but i doubt it was an old 2 door Toyota Tercel.... which by the way... was THE nicest car i had owned to date and i LOVED it!  it had most of it's paint AND it's dashboard wasn't cracked... now that's high class!  AND it had my faceplate stereo installed in it... so i was living the dream.  he seemed really excited about it and i got the attention i was so desperately craving.  but i'm sure he went back to his classroom, shut the door, and bent over clenching his gut in fits of laughter.

see... i had judged him all wrong.  i thought because he had this sexy beard thing going on with longer hair and because he was a quiet, introverted artist... that he wouldn't judge me and my taste in cars because i assumed he wasn't interested in cars.  what i didn't know, and what i've come to learn over the past 9 years... is that the man is a car freak.  he knows so much about cars that i sometimes find myself pretending to know what he's talking about because he's so stinking smart about them i can't even follow his train of thought.

it's a little surprising he wanted to date me after that.

actually, it's a little surprising we got married after that!

anyways... at that point in kjaer's life, marriage was something he wanted no part of.  kind of like my aversion to scary movies.  he didn't want to think or talk about marriage or even acknowledge the possibility of it... just enjoy life.

so, it was a little stunning that he wanted to date me.  because... to a woman, at least a woman like myself... dating, if all goes well, leads to marriage.  and even though i told myself i wasn't going to concern myself with stuff like that and just enjoy our relationship... after a couple of years my brain was beginning to wonder if he was the one.

and we dated for awhile... quite awhile.

we have been married 4 years now... so you do the math.

sometimes this got frustrating, especially because we both didn't know where we were headed as kjaer wrestled with letting go of his aversion to marriage because he loved me so much.  but now i see that those years of dating have really solidified this thang we've got going on.  some of the brick walls that so many of our friends encountered after getting married had already been tackled by us before we were married because we learned to communicate through them.

and i'm not saying this makes our marriage better than anyone else's...

i just am seeing the greater purpose to it now as we enter this phase of life with babies...

because... you guys... i've never done anything so challenging as being a mama and a wife at the same time, in my life.

january 2014

if i could just be a wife... i could nail it.

if i could just be a mama... i could na--... well, that's a lie.  i need kjaer to be successful in that too.  i have no idea how you single mama's do it, but you deserve mad props!

to be both requires something more in me that makes me reach waaaaaayyyy down to the soles of my feet and give everything.... so much that sometimes i feel like i have nothing left for anyone, including myself.

and i'm sure kjaer would say the same about being my husband and a daddy at the same time too.  this newest challenge of having a family often overshadows some of the necessary time it takes to cultivate your relationship.

 but back in january i had a moment.
 we were watching the bronco game on the couch and i looked at him.  and in that split second, i really saw him again.

do you know what i mean?

i saw his strong jawline and his gorgeous eyes that made me so weak kneed nine years ago and i felt this explosion of love come surging out of me.  i lovingly grabbed his hand out of nowhere and said something really mushy to him... though i can't remember what it was now.  (he sort of looked at me like i had gone off of the deep end).  i couldn't believe that 9 years later i was sitting next to him, our two year old running around at our feet and me 9 months pregnant with our second child, happily married.  it was almost like it all was a dream...

or... like the matrix... my husband would excitedly exclaim.

because i, for reals, have myself a good man.  i have someone who loves me... and i mean REALLY loves me.  he's seen my giant, pregnant body naked and he STILL loves me (even i had a hard time loving that).  he's sat with me while i've sobbed uncontrollably about the smallest, most insignificant details and he STILL loves me.  he's followed me quietly into the deepest, darkest pits of myself and he STILL loves me.  he has been my rock during the most trying times of my life and he STILL loves me.  he has tenderly picked up the pieces of my broken heart after the death of my father when i thought i couldn't....

i repeat

COULD.
NOT.

go on anymore and he STILL loves me.  he let his bachelor pad get slowly taken over by the dreaded woman's touch... and do i even need to say it?

yup!  that man l.o.v.e.s. me.

sometimes it takes a little friction for me to remember this.

like a couple of months ago, i came downstairs totally burnt out from being mega-pregnant and mother to an almost 2 year old whose two hour bedtime routine was wearing on me.  i was feeling so wretched... isolated, alone, tired, jealous.  and i spewed forth the tears and the qualms... sometimes aiming my little darts at kjaer.  looking back, i suppose i was mostly just an exhausted person complaining and needing to be heard.  and i truly think that kjaer is the only man that God placed on this green earth to cope with this sort of behavior.  not that there's anything wrong with the feelings i was having... just how i was reacting.

sometimes i feel like i am like a bumpy texture on a wall
and kjaer is the special tool that smooths me out.

do you feel me?

he diffuses.  he loves.  he listens.

and then he goes to bed because doing all of that makes him really, really tired.

and i'm left thinking, damn i'm so blessed.

so blessed that he cares enough to do the hard work of being married, to get his hands dirty, and be my partner in crime for life.  so blessed that he walked out to that tercel with me one day back in 2003 and didn't humiliate me.  so blessed that he overcame his fears and took the plunge with me one perfect day in march of 2010.  so blessed to help him raise our children so that they can grow up to have his integrity, loyalty and passion.   so blessed that he holds me in the safe harbor of his arms and loves me and our children so intensely that he sacrifices bits of himself every day to make our lives better.

that, my friends, is the man i love.

that is the man of my dreams.