Rocks In My Dryer

To Walk

My one-year-old daughter Corrie has only been walking for a few weeks, and she still prefers crawling.  Walking is hard, and her little legs tire easily--I have to push her ever-so-gently to practice this new skill.

Yesterday as we left a store, I put her down on the sidewalk, took her hand, and coaxed her toward the car.  Her steps were awkward and slow, and she wasn't particularly happy with me--but we still made progress. 

After several yards we approached some steep stairs, and we saw them at the same time.  Before I could reach down to lift her, she cried out in fear at this scary obstacle ahead, dropping to her bottom right on the sidewalk.  I swooped her up into my arms and laughed as I kissed her head.  "Silly girl," I whispered.  "You know I'll carry you through the really hard parts.  But sometimes you just have to walk."

Like a lightning bolt, the thought hit me:  how many times has God whispered that same thought to me?  I cry out in fear at the obstacle in front of me, and like a frightened toddler I want to stop walking and SIT right where I am.  Just as I have to coax my daughter into strengthening her little legs, my Father has to push me to strengthen mine.  When I'd rather sit, He sometimes pushes.  But He never lets my legs give way--when the road gets too steep for me, He carries me and sets me down gently on the other side. 

Certainly my steps aren't pretty.  To Him I must look like a bumbling toddler much of the time.  But just as I could never disdain my daughter's efforts, He will never disdain mine.  He'll push, pull, coax and carry, but always we'll move forward.  Together.

That's where the metaphor ends.  The day will come when Corrie will let go of my hand and run ahead on her own.  But not me.  As I walk this journey of faith, my steps will hopefully strengthen, but He will never, NEVER let go of my hand.

Catalogs!

I LOVE catalogs.  I have loved catalogs since I was a little girl and that monster-sized Sears catalog would arrive at Christmas and I'd mark it up with a Sharpie marker.  But in adulthood I forgot about the joy of catalog browsing, until we moved into this house nearly four years ago.  The previous owner was an AVID catalog shopper--and of course, the publications all continued coming to our house once she moved.  And I rediscovered the fun of window shopping in my pajamas!  Now I get tons of them (hardly ever buy things from them, in case you were wondering).  Sometimes, for old time's sake, I'll even take a sharpie marker to them.

Here is a list of my very favorite catalogs (all of them free, seeing as how I'm as *ahem* tight as the bark on a tree).  I've included links to the page where you can order your own free copy.  I'm sure your mailman will love me for this.

• Pottery Barn Kids.  I include this one first, because it is the chief drool-inducer in my house.  Oh, how I love this stuff.  Mostly I use it to get ideas. Catalog order form.
• Lillian Vernon.  Adorable stuff, and they have great clearance sales on their websites, too.  Be sure you request both catalogs, including the one from Lilly's Kids.  Catalog order form.
• Personal Creations.  This stuff is all personalized, and usually the cost of personalization is included in the price of the item.  I've ordered several Christmas gifts here.  Catalog order form.
• Best To You.  This is merchandise with a Christian theme, and it's usually quite affordable.  I've gotten some fun ideas from this catalog for crafts I could do myself.  Catalog order form.
• American Stationery.  Another drool-inducer!  I'm a sucker for beautiful stationery--it's my favorite splurge.  This place actually has some selections that aren't terribly expensive.  Catalog order form.
• ABC Distributing.  A quirky little catalog with super-cheap stuff--fun to browse through.  Catalog order form.
• One Step Ahead.  The queen mother of all parenting catalogs.  Catalog order form.
• J.Jill.  I love these clothes.  This is what I flip through when I'm feeling wistful for what the non-sweatpants-wearing crowd is wearing these days.  Catalog order form.
• Mindware.  Great catalog of "brainy toys"!  Catalog order form.
• Terry's Village.  This one is so cheesy-cutesy-sappy that Hubs actually groans when it arrives in the mailbox.  But it's still fun to look through!  Catalog order form.
• Land's End.  These are the only clothes I've found that can actually make it through all the way through three little boys without looking like something we pulled out of the trash.  Catalog order form.
• Christian Book Distributors.  GREAT prices on Christian books.  Catalog order form.
• Colorful Images.  Really cute address labels, etc.  Catalog order form.
• Current.  Similar to Colorful Images, above.  Catalog order form.
• Home Focus.  Oh, I'm in Heaven...this catalog is great for people who love to organize and clean things.  I don't do either, but I sure enjoy thinking about it.  Catalog order form.
• Vermont Country Store.  They call themselves "Purveyors of the Practical and the Hard-to-Find."  Catalog order form.
• Desperate Enterprises.  Strange name, but fun catalog.  They sell lots of vintage signs, tins, keepsakes, etc.  Catalog order form.
• Oriental Trading Company.  If you are a homeroom or PTA mom, you probably already know about this one.  Too hard to describe, just go look at it!  Catalog order form. 

Believe it or not, this isn't all of them, just my top ones!  (And if you know of any good ones I didn't include, add them in the comments section).

Miscarriage Resources

I know this is a heart-rending subject, and this will be my last post about it for a while.  But so many of you shared wonderful responses to this post (I urge you to go back and read the comments, if you haven't already), prompting me to do some of my own research as well.  I'd like to put it all in one place here, and if you can think of any additional resources, please add them to the comments.

• Here are the lyrics for a beautiful song I'd never heard before--I urge you to download "Glory Baby" by Watermark.
• Another lovely song is "Visitor From Heaven" by Twila Paris--you can find the lyrics here.
• Artistic Memories by Alice produces several beautiful remembrances for parents who have lost a child.  While you're there, browse around at all her stuff--quite moving!
• I found this book after our miscarriage.  It's a tear-jerker, but it's so comforting too.
• Here's a journal to help in the grieving process so unique to a mother who has miscarried.
• There are several on-line support groups, such as PAM, Silent Grief, and one hosted by i-Village.
• Here is some beautiful jewelry to be a tangible reminder of such an intangible loss.  Also, you can find some more here.

Bascially, you confirmed in your comments what I already felt--it is so important, when ministering to a friend who has miscarried, to do whatever you can to help validate her loss.  As Mopsy said,

We received flowers and plants, cards and even had dinner brought to us for a few nights. These gestures helped our healing process and somehow validated that what we were going through was more than a bad medical day---it was the death of a dream, deep and real sorrow.

One last thought....

Word art is courtesy of Butternug Squash Designs.  Hope you all have a happy weekend!

Further Proof That Motherhood Is Eroding My Brain Cells

For a split second today, I honest-to-gosh thought I smelled a dirty diaper OVER THE BABY MONITOR.

Please, oh please, share some of your stupider mothering moments so that I won't feel quite so bad.  Please?

What To Say

So many of you left kind comments about yesterday's post about my miscarriage--thank you.  I wasn't surprised to read that many of you have had similar experiences.  A few of you also shared my frustration at the hurtful (though well-meaning) things people say to a woman who has miscarried.  Emily commented--

I've wondered if there is anything that can be "safely" said in comfort. We're all different and I wonder if something that would be comforting to one person would be painful to another.

Good question, Emily.  Since miscarriage is an all-too-common occurrence, I thought this might make an interesting discussion.  Here are some of the comments I heard that stung:

• You can always have another baby.
• This is actually a blessing, because a miscarriage means that something was really wrong with the baby.
• Thank goodness you weren't attached to him/her yet.
• It's "just" a miscarriage--they're very common.
• At least you know you can get pregnant.
• How soon are you going to try again?

"So," you might ask, "what CAN I say?"  Honestly, I was the most comforted by people who simply said, "I'm so sorry for your loss," or "I'm praying for you--is there anything else I can do?" and then left it at that.  The simpler, the better.  If you know someone who has recently suffered such a miscarriage, don't try to talk her out of grieving or minimize what she's experiencing.  Just acknowledge that her loss is very real, and be willing to listen.

Does anyone else have any ideas on how we can minister to a friend hurting from such a loss?

Totally unrelated note to my friends out there using Blogger:  I have been trying to comment on your blogs all morning...is something up with Blogger?  I'm tellin' you, you're going to have to switch to Typepad.  You'll love it!

Remembering

I remember the early days of my very first pregnancy, blissfully cloud-walking at the thought of becoming a mother.

I remember the sound of my parents' voices when they heard the news that I was expecting their first grandchild.

I remember looking at nursery furniture and baby clothes, with a grin that simply would not wipe off my face.

I remember the crushing weight that collapsed onto my chest in that ultrasound room at 10 weeks--not only had the baby died, but the baby had died 5 weeks earlier and my body simply didn't "get it".

I remember waking from the anesthesia crying and calling out my husband's name, and the nurses' gentle assurance that I would see him soon.

I remember lying in my bed, blinds drawn and phone off, wondering how I would ever face the world without that little person inside me. 

I remember that I couldn't place my hand on my belly for weeks.

I remember the painful things that well-meaning people would say, and how I would physically cringe:  "At least you weren't attached to the baby yet,"  "You can always have another one,"  "This is actually a blessing"...

I remember marvelling at how I could feel so much pain and so much peace at the same time.

I remember learning that the hole left in my heart wouldn't be filled by another baby, or anything else--that it might just stay there.

I remember rocking Adam, my next-born, and realizing with wonder that if the first baby had been carried to term, we wouldn't have conceived Adam.  And I remember being flooded with assurance that our God is sovereign, and very good.

It was ten years ago this week, but I still remember.  That little hole in my heart is still there, but it no longer hurts--it's more of a "souvenir" of experience I don't want to forget.  My home and heart are full of happy, noisy, funny memories enough to mull over for a lifetime.  But with my treasured box of few tangible reminders (sympathy cards, hospital records, and even a faded pregnancy test) I remember--I will always remember--my few short weeks as that first little baby's mother.  And I smile.

Why My Kitchen Smells Like a Baby's Backside

While I was unloading groceries today, Corrie somehow got her hands on a tube of A&D diaper rash ointment.  Would you like to guess what a one year old does with a tube of greasy mess?  Spreads it all over a section of the kitchen floor, of course.  And as I walked around the room putting away groceries, oblivious to what was going on (mysterious, sticky spots on my kitchen floor are absolutely NOTHING out of the ordinary around here), I tracked the stuff all over the kitchen.  Guess what?  A&D Ointment doesn't wipe up easily.  Actually, A&D Ointment doesn't wipe up at all.  For the rest of the time we own this house, I believe there is going to be a thin, sticky film of the stuff covering my floor.  We are finding globs of A&D on anything that has touched the floor today.  When Hubs picked up a 12-pack of diet Coke that had been sitting on the floor, he said, "What is this sticky stuff on the box... *sniff, sniff*...is that diaper rash medicine?"  (How much do I love this man that he recognizes the smell of diaper rash medicine?  What a keeper.)

But I'm looking on the bright side:  the next time she has a diaper rash, I can just put her naked little booty on the floor and tell her to scoot.

Words, Words, Words

Recently my oldest son Adam approached me with a look of disgust.  "Stephen just said the F-word," he said.  "He did WHAT?"  I gasped, my heart in my throat.  Adam looked over his shoulder and whispered, "You know....fart."

Bad words.  Mean words.  Disrepectful words.  Words that are mean to your brother.  Words that don't please God.  So much of parenting seems to be the managing of what comes out of these little creatures' mouths.  My sweet Adam, who has a conscience the size of a Mac truck, had another interesting conversation with me last week:

Adam:  Mom, I'm ashamed of something.

Me:  What is it?

Adam:  When I go over to Joey's house, he's allowed to use some bad words.  And sometimes I use them too, while I'm over there. 

Me:  What are the words?

Adam:  [swallowing hard]  "Shut up" and "stupid".

Me:  Do you know why this is bothering you?  [He looked up expectantly].  Because when you use words like that, you're disobeying your parents.  That's sin, and God is pretty clear that when sin sits in your heart for a while, it's going to hurt.

Adam:  [Pausing for reflection]  I know.  But sometimes they're so just so much fun to say! 

This led to a long discussion about what makes bad words bad, and good words good.  In the interest of picking battles, I even negotiated a little on adding a "borderline" word to our repertoire, with some boundaries (they can say "dumb", as long as they're not applying it to a person.)

Like most families, we've developed an unofficial list of "off-limits words" and "use carefully" words:

"OFF LIMITS" WORDS: (other than the obvious four-letter variety):  "stupid", "shut up", "hate", and a whole host of descriptors for bodily functions and parts that I omit here.

"USE CAREFULLY" WORDS:  "dumb", "whatever" (that one drives me nuts), "darn" and "dang" (which they, um, learned from their mother)

Then, of course, there's that all-important communication tool that matters (to me) even more than the words themselves:  tone of voice.  Not an easy thing to describe, is it?  Seven-year-old Stephen has a penchant for putting a little too much fire in his tone, leading to our concern that he might, in fact, develop a taste for soap in his mouth someday.

So tell me, experienced moms out there...how do you make these decisions in your household?  What's your family list of "off-limits" words?  How do you make those determinations?  What kind of punishment awaits the offender?  Any tips on keeping respectful tones coming out of their little mouths?