wonder mother

{via pinterest}

my mother is a superhero. and i wish i was her.

my entire life, she has been the most put-together woman i have ever known. my earliest memories are of her seated at her desk sipping at a silver, hand-held caraffe coffee with her hair laid perfect and her make-up pristine.

and i have strived to match her footsteps. and i am failing.

because as i write this post, i am clad in men's Dr. Pepper pajama pants with my hair tossed back in the messiest of ponytails, taking the smallest bites of applesauce from a plastic container in an effort to keep my stomach settled.

and i am about to be a mother myself. and i want to be the most pristine of women with my future children collected and composed. but if they are anything like me, they will be ruffians and i will be flustered perpetually.

that is, if i keep attempting to be a woman i am not. a woman that she has never asked me to be, and would never dream of requiring of me. time and time again, she tells me

be you. not me. 


and that's what i have to do. because it is weary being someone who is not me, and walking in shoes far too big for my small feet. and this is my motherhood journey, as she had hers with two daughters who both turned out a bit alright, i think.

and so i will reach out and take her hand for now. and when i get scared and when my little one is tucked away, i may run to her arms and weep for comfort that only a mother can provide.

she is my mother. i am not.

and for this, we are both grateful. and for this, we overflow.

i realized today that i have allowed this pregnancy to push away the corners of my brain. 

and i have forgotten to announce the winners of my last giveaway, which i was supposed to do in January. my goodness.

the winner of the Shabby Apple timepiece necklace is Ashley

the winner of the pearl earrings is Blythe.

congratulations, girls! contact me with your addresses as soon as possible!

and don't forget that you still have two days to enter the current giveaway. 

brave :: oneword 2012

my word scares me. 

it's not brash or strong or resilient.

it's not the one i anticipated, or the one i would have chosen. 

it's not fearless or determined or radiant. 

it's brave. 

i obsess over strength. weakness is something that terrifies me. wouldn't i want to be something gripping, something changing that would shake the world's foundations? 

but this is a shaker, in His way. because this world is made of rock and ice. it's fearless or nothing.  courage has been left roadside, ached to be forgotten. 

because courage isn't fearless. courage is being afraid, and standing. 

and i want to dig roots down deep into the soil at the foot of the Cross and wind this vine around the blood-stained wood. 

because i'm seeking courage, and i'm seeking strong found only in Him. 

courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; 

courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.  

:: winston churchill ::

so 2012 will not be a year of squelched fears, but of eyes met and courage found in the sacred corner. 

it will not be a year of silence, of bound tongues and captive hands, but of freedom and voice in the darkness. 

it will be a year of new. 

a one-worded year of Light, of sacred touch and inhaling glory from lungs to tongue-tip and back again. 

2012, a year of brave.

to live is the rarest thing. most people just exist, that’s all.

// oscar wilde //

decade

{via pintrest}

i was 10. telling everyone "almost 11." almost but not quite.

red and blue and green and yellow dress. gap-toothed smile and dark bobbed hair.

flash of a camera bulb. school pictures taken. sister comes next.

little-shoes skipping back to mama, asking why the tears and why was everyone so sad.

television flashes. fire. smoke billowing like something from a movie i wasn't allowed to watch. screaming. people jumping, life gone in a leap.

first one plane. then another. then comes collapse. smoke and screams mingling in horror that flowed like a rapid-rising river from sea to shining sea.

fear. so much fear.

mama, sister, and i at the tea shop. eating my favourite soup in a bread bowl, with big ice cream cones and jelly beans afterwards. mama saying "it might be the last."

phone calls to daddy on her old cell phone.

i love you.

what do we do?

praying. 

God knows.

so many heroes lived and died that day. first responders ran in while hundreds ran out. 

and three fathers shed their hero blood to spare their cities with cries of 

let's roll. 

today marks 10 years. 

that little girl is now 20. the dress has turned to jeans and the teeth have all come back to make a complete smile.

Photo by DramaticElegance
wax memorial in Madame Tussad's, NYC

but the world is now so different. my country is different. 

we have a war now. we have pain now. we have so much hate now. 

turbans and hijabs spell terror to ignorance. be watchful, yes. but hate not. 

it's hard for me to wrap my mind around these children. innocent-eyed angels that don't know. the little ones who wonder why we stand and sing and weep and remember. 

honouring rows and rows of our own heroes today. men and women in our church with medals pinned by our pastor. the colour guard and standing ovations. hands over hearts and red-white-blue at the front. 

the words in bronze hang from my husband, my father-in-law, my mother-in-law. the soliders. the cops. the EMTS. the firemen. they all stood and received the same words of power. 

to honour and respect those who serve and protect.

evil is real. He is stronger. 

the USA still stands. the colours still wave. 

we must affirm Truth. Justice. Love. 

9-11-2001. 

we still remember. 

we still honour. 

we still stand.

You are stronger / You are stronger / Sin is broken / You have saved me. / It is written / Christ is risen / Jesus, You are Lord of all ~Stronger, Hillsong

{linking with hear it on sunday and playdates with God}