I meant to say in the post before that what I am afraid to say in writing about some pulse so near to my heart is EXACTLY what I used to urge my students to do. If you can push through the fear of weeping on a dusty white keyboard, a journal page, and write your experience aloud, you have then written well. It demands courage to be vulnerable and the bliss that follows with remarkable release. The reader, too, then gains a sense of pathway to know and sympathize with you and once there is an identification of "ahhh, you have felt that too!", there is a way to be brother and sister. If I let you in on my groaning, your quiet groaning seems less hopeless. I feel so convinced of that.

While we are adding a bedroom for Mya to the back of our home and my belly is pushing outward on my sundresses, my mother is in her pink top and shorts exercising with the physical therapists. She reminds me each time i visit that she is well, that she is just a lap or so from finishing this trial. She hasn't once questioned why. She has been a remarkable student.

The girls are finishing up the year at Antioch and it's the last year that they will all be in the same school together. I think people wonder how you can offer enough attention to multiple children and I thought the same thing last night as i made bedtime rounds to their cheeks and sides. My heart only grows larger, my capacity for multiplied love expanding like a hummingbird vine. I don't attempt to slot time for each daughter, i can barely keep myself from them all the time. And Love, in charge of my day and night, gives me grace to love in a tiny way as He loves.

I fear writing about the topics that are so close to my soul. I can barely write about my children and my husband. And I have had a difficult time writing about my mother having a stroke and finding affliction. She has never been wounded, she is as strong as the tide and loves life as much as any person I have ever spoken to. She adores and has giant patience with children, she is a rule breaker, a party lover. But over all, she is the purest of hearts, she gives and does not tire. She is selfless and wonderful. Everyone who knows her, loves her. Everyone speaks so highly of her. She is an original beauty.
She had a stroke on Saturday morning and I listened as her voice grew quiet, and her body was still and worried. I curled beside of her waiting for the ambulance and praying to our Father pleas of help and words of trust and love. She locked eyes with me, she wondered if she would ever get well. I kissed her head, I rubbed her hair, I prayed with my soul for her and over her. She wept and spoke quiet and still. I have not exhaled since that moment.
By now, she has made it through ambulance rides, Neuro-ICU on Mother's day, and several days in a dull tan hospital room with florescent lights. Her window can be easily seen from the courtyard below. It is a window on the third floor spilling over with flowers. She has averaged twenty visitors per day and has easily become the favorite of the nurses. I have been sitting with her during the day, sending her and pop food for the night from the dear people at school. My father has not left her, he has showered her with his nearness and care. She has been honored and adored and is fighting for the use of her right hand and arm, the recovery of her walking, and the complete clarity of her speech.
But it is hard for one to understand where I am aching as a daughter, as a friend, for those who have not panged through this. I couldn't have beforehand understood and God forgive me for not being more sympathetic towards people with aching in their hearts. Isn't life easy without tragedy and trial. But grace offers me sound sleep, Christ offers me Hope beyond reasoning. And the children give us all a motivation to continue to sing.
Perhaps tomorrow on to rehab for her, and finally out of the dull hospital room with horrible florescent lighting.

On the wind, He sends me a baby bird.
To dress in glory sunlight sheets
He clothes my heart with morning song
He lifts my face to see the rolling wings down
through the unreachable belief of a miracle.

I have wanted another child for at least five years. I was afraid to speak such a desire. I concealed my longing and disciplined myself to hush. And then I told Bryan. And then I told Madison. And then I began to pray. And then Bryan began sharing my desire. And the community that had been formed around our table from the Lord, divine friends beautiful and more real than trees, became close. And in relationships there is a point of progression to move on, or to leave. The stuff we conceal is protected by fear's walls. Friends, God-sent friends, can look into those places and identify. It happened. Miranda gave us hope. She worked for a place that could maybe help us. They couldn't in the end, but it gave our hope a fountain. I continued to pray every day, in the morning, on the porch with the Lord, giving it to Him, crying, surrendering. It was a long season of trusting Him either way. I trained my mouth to say, "Yes, Lord, your will be so in my life. Take this desire if it isn't from you. I don't want despair. I can be content if I have you and nothing else." The desire remained. I told my girls of my heart's desires. We prayed every meal, every morning, every night together for a baby. We made an appointment for Bryan to see his doctor, he referred us to another doctor. It was expensive. The Lord provided unseen money. He had a surgery in February. We carried, we cared for him for four weeks. He was weak, I loved him well. I saw a friend. Her husband had the same doctor, the same surgery, and she had a baby in her arms. She helped me hope. She gave me God's words. My friends helped me to pray, they asked, they loved me.
On Monday, May the 5th, we found out that God gave us a baby. On Tuesday, May 6th, my doctor confirmed and said it's a miracle. It's a miracle. Praise to the Lord the Almighty the King of Creation. Oh, My Soul Praise Him for He is my health and Salvation. All ye who hear, now to his temple draw near and praise Him with glad adoration. Our baby is due on January 12th, 2009. "Oh Lord, you are my God; I will exalt you and praise your name, for in perfect faithfulness you have done marvelous things, things planned long ago." Isaiah 25: 1

I had Bible Study with the children yesterday. The Lord placed it on my heart to tell them to read His word every day to get to know Him more. We read the story of Zaccheaus together and looked within the text for details, for salvation, for the things that he did to draw the Lord close to him. The children were listening, they were quickened by the Lord. I was elated. I want more time to dig into the word with them. This is it! It's not craft, business, confusion....it's digging, it's worshipping.

It's Cinco de Mayo. It's one I will never forget. Ever. Going to have a spinach salad at Hawthorne's with Bryan with full out joy in my bones.

I love this selection from Life Together: Community. Beautiful.

Everything in my yard is in bloom. We have 13 chicks in the coop. A baker's dozen eggs soon per day.