For My Fourth Child

the word says 

that the life is in the blood

that the sacrifice 

pleasing to God

is the lifeblood 

on the altar

and somewhere--

between the lines--

that the blood that is life

must be brought

to lifelessness 

in order

somehow 

to mend what is broken 

to make right what is wrong

and to bring a far off God near

there is 

no understanding

 this word

how the lifeblood 

that spills over into death

brings life again

I cannot pretend 

to know how 

your small incalculable life 

figures in 

with all these symbols and signs

I can only hope 

that in the small wonder 

that was you 

and is you

God is mending something broken,

making right something wrong,

and drawing near from a faroff place

Courage

remember, 

soul, 

the one who

adopts 

upholds

weeps

restores

redeems

remains

as once, 

as ever

justice is 

not without joy 

creation is

not without creator

the hard word does 

not return void

and gray

is sometimes 

the truest,

the

truest

color.

___________________________________________

The soundtrack getting me through tonight. 

___________________________________________

An Invitation to the Thirsty (Isaiah 55)

Come, all you who are thirsty,
    come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
    come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
    without money and without cost.

Why spend money on what is not bread,
    and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
    and you will delight in the richest of fare.

Give ear and come to me;
    listen, that you may live.
I will make an everlasting covenant with you,
    my faithful love promised to David.

See, I have made him a witness to the peoples,
    a ruler and commander of the peoples.

Surely you will summon nations you know not,
    and nations you do not know will come running to you,
because of the Lord your God,
    the Holy One of Israel,
    for he has endowed you with splendor. 
Seek the Lord while he may be found;

    call on him while he is near.

Let the wicked forsake their ways
    and the unrighteous their thoughts.
Let them turn to the Lord, and he will have mercy on them,
    and to our God, for he will freely pardon.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways my ways,
declares the Lord.

As the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts.

As the rain and the snow
    come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
    without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
    so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,

so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
    It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
    and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

You will go out in joy
    and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills
    will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
    will clap their hands.

Instead of the thornbush will grow the juniper,
    and instead of briers the myrtle will grow.
This will be for the Lord’s renown,
    for an everlasting sign,
    that will endure forever.

In Honor of Grandpa

Today Tadhg turns three months old. And today would've been my dad's 75th birthday.

Tadhg will never know him, just as I never really knew my grandparents. In honor of the Grandpa who Tadhg will certainly hear about but never know in the flesh, here are a smattering of photos. Looking at them made me feel old and all sorts of bittersweet.

We surprised Dad with a large 70th birthday party. In the following two photos he was just realizing what he was walking into. I love it because it's genuine Dad--anytime he knew his picture was being taken he froze up, so all of the real gems are candids.

 

One of my favorites. Mom and Dad came over to my apartment (I don't remember what for), and I fed Dad leftover something-or-other from my fridge. He immediately laid down on my bed and began relaxing in earnest.

A rare occasion of hamming it up for the camera. The key? Take so many pictures in quick succession that he's utterly overwhelmed by the assault and starts acting like himself.

 

Ahh. A classic. Dad in his trusty blue van going on his rounds. 

[a.k.a. The Neighborhood Watch] 

[a.k.a. Driving Slowly Around Nanticoke Thinking You're Being Subtle When, Really, Everyone Knows Exactly What You're Doing]

[a.k.a. Being a Snoop]

What can I say? 

Dad got bored in his retirement.

Peering over Niagara Falls.

 

Another classic. Pacing the pond's edge ensuring that no one drowned.

 

Yep. He knew this one was being taken...

Watching annual 4th of July fireworks up at Andy and Wendy's house before they became Alaskans.

 Deep conversations.

And another candid shot to cap it all off.

You are still missed, Dad.

Boy

breath in
breath out
living ebenezer
in his bones
and in his breath
the Lord
has thundered
with a loud thunder
each day
month
year
each lungful
a whole life-ful
heaps
stone upon
stone upon
stone

Mother

It's a new name for me.

A name I tried on over and over in my head growing up, and one I felt in my heart after God kept our first two babies.

But today, on this very first Mother's Day spent holding a son in my arms, I think I'm closer than I've ever been to understanding the ponderings of Mary and the sword piercing her heart. I've scarcely been a mother to our boy for two months, and already I'm finding the name to be both profoundly beautiful and deeply sobering.

"Mother" is a mirror for all my sin.

"Mother" forces me to stop and take stock of all the brokenness in this world and all the brokenness in me.

"Mother" makes me catch my breath with the horrors I am capable of apart from God.

"Mother" shows me my smallness, my weakness, my utter insufficiency.

"Mother" shows me the deep canyon of my need for God.

So on this Mother's Day, a new first, I pray God's mercy on me, a sinner. His mercy to forgive me and His mercy to bear me up, His love to hold me and His love to fill me.

The Waiting

It's been a little while since my last post. Much has happened.

My belly has grown, skin taut and stretched and full of baby. Husband, son, and I have been showered (and showered, and showered again) with the love and gifts of generous-hearted people who are rejoicing with us in our growing family. I've just recently joined the vast community of women who experience time morphing into a much slower version of itself during the last week or two of being pregnant.

And...

I fell down the stairs on Valentine's Day (while holding my lovely gifts from Rundy) and injured my tailbone; just my tailbone, though, not the baby! Nothing like heading into labor nice and bruised.

[But the state of my coccyx isn't the point of this post; it's just a minor detour since I am so very conscious of said tailbone as I sit upon it writing these words.]

Basically, I just wanted to share a few photos. I've nothing really profound to say; the things inside me are wordless now, and I imagine will remain so after our son, God willing, comes into the world. Memories come in flashes in these days of waiting for our boy: memories of the grandpa he'll never know, memories of the ultrasound image of his older sibling whose heart we never saw beating. Memories of so many things, and dreams night after night of what's to come.

In lieu of words, I give you pictures.

Valentine's Day gifts from Heart: chocolates, homemade soaps, and an orchid (floating bloom courtesy of my fall down the stairs).

 And pictures of my 39 weeks pregnant self, waiting for the rest of life to begin.