I carry her in my heart

Jan 02

Tonight I watched as Maren sat on the kitchen island counter.  She swung her legs a little, and she chatted with Brad while he chopped and prepped veggies for dinner.  I noticed that her size six pajamas are creeping up her ankles and wrists.  Eventually she pulled out her read-at-home school books and read to him as he worked.  She asked him for help when she...

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Milestones

Jan 01

Milestones are funny things.  They pass the time.  Sometimes it seems like time flies, other times like time slows and nearly stops.  The same event can be both a blink and an eternity.  It reminds me of a flowing river: such different experiences: on a boat, on the shore, in the water, wading.  There are so many perspectives to see the same things.  I pray that I...

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Though they be but little

Dec 19

‘Twas a great ending to my day.  I had one girl on each knee, we rocked in my favorite chair, I read to them.  We read more than the standard two stories because we were happy.  They were clean and I inhaled their sweet smells.  Maren exclaimed, “I remember this book from when I was a little girl.”  I smiled with the knowledge that she is still a...

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Life is hard, but God is good.

Dec 01

I am afraid my cancer is going to come back. It is hard to admit: I am afraid. I want to be filled with faith and confidence and joy and oblivion.  I want to be strong and brave.  So soon after receiving my NED status, I want to be all frolick-y and happy dance-y.  The fear is sneaky; it doesn’t get to me all the time.  I work against the fear, but it lurks...

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Wish

Nov 27

Today I wished: I wish that I had kept up with some type of baby book for M & G.  I want to write their baby-hoods down (in words and pictures) while I still remember them.  Lucky for me, it’s not too late.  They are still babes.  I re-discovered my passion for story-telling this year.  One photobook (storybook?) each for Christmas; I can make that wish...

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Maren: fivinuhhaf

Nov 21

Maren’s kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Heart, began calling the children (the five-year-olds) writers the very first week of school.  Some, like Maren, could write their own name, but others were still practicing.  Yet, Mrs. Heart called them writers: she called out their identity, and the twenty-four little people in the class are rising to the challenge and...

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