Tuesday, September 27, 2011

i'm not sure about today

psalm 13 march 2009

i'm not sure about today and
what to imagine with this pen.
Not enough, it seems
not enough expectancy,
not enough grief
not enough time
not enough love to give to
a man who gives me everything
not enough concern, not enough joy
not enough change, not
enough desire.

But you, Holy one, Alive one
are the I AM
of whom words and pictures and feeling
will never paint clear enough, not full enough,
nor incarnational enough for each moment
that you eternally invade and completely,
even now.

You say to us in each moment
I hear you, but barely.
Awaken my ears.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

siblings and things

This morning Saf and I lay together in bed, trying to hold off the sunlight and day as long as possible, especially since it was only about 6am.  As he nursed contentedly he stroked my belly with his chubby little hand, as he does often these days.  He must notice that it's getting bigger, taking up a little more space in his life, worthy of attention and care.  The baby inside the belly responded to his touch and started to move and kick a bit. I held his hand in one spot and whispered, 'Safran, the baby is dancing for you!'  When the baby kicked again, Saf started to giggle.

I have no idea how much he's understanding of this so called 'baby' in my belly or what that means for our lives.  Sometimes it makes me nervous as he is accustomed to so much of our time, touch and general attention.  But in a moment like that, hearing those sweet giggles as his tiny sibling danced for him, I reckoned it will all be okay.

the very handsome big brother

Saturday, September 10, 2011


I'm half way through two weeks with my husband away on a work trip in SE Asia. I haven't had much internet access as my husband thinks he needs our computer for work or something and took it with him.   It's our first time apart in about nine months, and we don't really like it but know its probably good.  But also hard.  Good/hard, like most things in life that help us grow.

The boy is definitely missing his daddy, also teething and I think a bit sick with a snotty nose.  We've had some rough nights, some extra naps (mostly him) but some wonderful walks at the harbour, explorations in the sand, bird-watching time and generally just doing most everything together every day.  He keeps me busy, that Safran. 
 And there's that familiar missingness - a word that Chris and I possibly made up (but maybe not) during our 21 months of long distance friending - or at least the last 12 months of it in which we were expressing our affections to each other.  It's that thing that lives in your heart when the person you love is away from you, that longing and pain and expectancy and joy that's pregnant with so much hope and possibility but constantly aware of the not yet.

I have a love/hate relationship with missingness when she's around (like now).  But when she's gone (and she's mostly gone these days, ever since we said those vows), I kind of ... miss ... her.  I miss the anticipation of an email, garbled Skype conversations, the ache when you see lovers on the street together but yours is so far away, the pictures that you could stare at all day, and the way you feel as your falling asleep at night, imagining that one day you'll be back together again.

It's a special thing, this being apart but longing to be together.  But if I had to choose between the emotions of missingness or the mundane and wonders of being with the boy, I definitely, definitely, definitely pick the boy.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

moments like these.

I'm trying to catch moments - the small ones that slip by most of the time because my mind is fixed on that next thing and looking for a distraction from the now.  You know.

Yesterday Saf took a solid 2 hour and 5 minute nap (thank you God and Elizabeth Pantley!)  When he woke up I carried him to the couch and, still groggy, he asked for 'nai nai' so I nursed him a bit.  He fell back asleep in my arms, which rarely happens anymore.  I wanted to carry him across the room, grab my phone and read a few blogs that I follow.  I felt it would be a better use of my time than just sitting - maybe something I read would inspire me to a better mothering or challenge my spirituality.  I decided that Saf would probably wake up if I tried to move, as 25 pounds of dead weight is tough to maneuvre gracefully - especially mid-pregnancy.

So I stayed.  And I just watched the boy sleep.  I remembered the first time I held him, how tiny he was against my chest, how startling and familiar he was after 40 weeks of wondering.  And now he fills my lap, legs extending to the couch; but his face is still the most peaceful and soft sleeping face I've ever seen.  I let my heart be softened to him again, as we sometimes have difficult moments as we learn to be mama-baby in new ways.  I enjoyed the silence of his eyes and mouth gently closed.  I enjoyed him, knowing it woudln't be too long before he won't sleep in my arms anymore.

24 weeks outside the tummy.

I could have held the boy and read about someone else's sweet and sacred experiences of being a mother.  (And I do, often, and am inspired and challenged.)  But sometimes its better to just be a mother, as what that means emerges and develops every day - and most moments will never be captured if I don't capture them now. 

I hope to waste many hours watching my children sleep in my arms.