There's a train under that tree
Frozen pond
Uncle Andrew
Like father, like son
Where we are now
It's been a long time since I've said much of anything on this blog.
Our life has been too much for me to do anything but keep paddling, or sometimes bailing as the case may be.
A year ago Brendan was walking around wrapped in non-adhesive bandages held together by medical tape, under this, he was generously frosted with some sort of silver anti-bacterial ointment. The pig he was slaughtering had been hanging by a rope over scalding water. The rope broke and the pig splashed the water onto Brendan.
Let's just say that last year, I couldn't wait for 2012 to die.
2013 didn't feel different at first, but the home we'd been praying for suddenly appeared on the market and we got to buy it. Fruit trees, lilacs, and a 40 gallon-a-minute-well were suddenly ours.
We've remodeled (and will be for a while), grown 11 more pigs, had our first guests in our guest room (the lovely Kezia and Jemima who belong to my sister), gotten pregnant, gotten 3 IVs, had our first frost, first snowfall and a hundred other things.
Tonight, I am sitting by my fire alone. Brendan is in the basement working his magic with sharp knives and a porker. My children are in their beds. Flannery's has moonlight on the ceiling right now. The boys' has train tracks on the floor.
I know now how fragile things are. They can change or die in a second. But I also know that most of the time, they don't. So, tonight, I am so grateful for the kind God who holds all these things together and is strong in the middle of all the fragility.
I am also grateful for little children's lack of awareness. Twice this year I have been sitting, crying about something only to have Huckleberry come climb in my lap, take my face in his hands, look me in the eyes and say, "Mom! What's foah suppah?"
Our life has been too much for me to do anything but keep paddling, or sometimes bailing as the case may be.
A year ago Brendan was walking around wrapped in non-adhesive bandages held together by medical tape, under this, he was generously frosted with some sort of silver anti-bacterial ointment. The pig he was slaughtering had been hanging by a rope over scalding water. The rope broke and the pig splashed the water onto Brendan.
Let's just say that last year, I couldn't wait for 2012 to die.
2013 didn't feel different at first, but the home we'd been praying for suddenly appeared on the market and we got to buy it. Fruit trees, lilacs, and a 40 gallon-a-minute-well were suddenly ours.
We've remodeled (and will be for a while), grown 11 more pigs, had our first guests in our guest room (the lovely Kezia and Jemima who belong to my sister), gotten pregnant, gotten 3 IVs, had our first frost, first snowfall and a hundred other things.
Tonight, I am sitting by my fire alone. Brendan is in the basement working his magic with sharp knives and a porker. My children are in their beds. Flannery's has moonlight on the ceiling right now. The boys' has train tracks on the floor.
I know now how fragile things are. They can change or die in a second. But I also know that most of the time, they don't. So, tonight, I am so grateful for the kind God who holds all these things together and is strong in the middle of all the fragility.
I am also grateful for little children's lack of awareness. Twice this year I have been sitting, crying about something only to have Huckleberry come climb in my lap, take my face in his hands, look me in the eyes and say, "Mom! What's foah suppah?"
