melaniehurt.com

Some looks I like, snagged from blogs I like.

I photographed a house a few weeks ago way out in the country in a neighboring town. These horses were to beautiful to pass by. Don’t you agree?

My loving Grandfather died today; Donald R. Neinhuis. Preceded in death by his first wife, Ann Roberta (Haga) Nienhuis. I am thankful for the knowledge of his faith; a Reformed minister his whole life. Vibrant, witty, and very faithful. Thankful also for so many wonderful memories from so much time spent together. Until heaven.

Laying, climbing, holding, snuggling, spanking, laughing, talking, reading, playing.

September 20th of 2009, I was sick, my little baby was fussy and it was my husband’s 24th birthday. I felt totally lame for not being well enough to do anything for him, depressed because I had recently had a baby, and overwhelmed still, at having three children in under three years. My life was a far cry from what I imagined it to be: me, being a super-awesome-amazing-never-upset-mom, with only two wonderfully obedient and intelligent children. I was still in pajamas at noon, I was tired of myself and all of my children, so when my husband called to report that his parents and grandparents were going to stop by after church, I was frustrated to the point of wanting to run away. I did not get dressed, I did not feel well. I did not want to see anyone but him and the backs of my eyelids. His grandmother came smiling, bearing gifts for all. A birthday card for Jed; hand-made blankets, pillows, and a few books for the kids. The big kids were thrilled. I sat on the floor with the kids, helping them open presents and say well deserved thank-yous. With the arrival of his grandparents came a box of their garden produce, which I was very thankful for, but my spirits were very low. Jed’s parents offered to take I and K for the day so that I could sleep. This always presents an internal struggle for me: shape up and be great mom, you can do this yourself. Jed pressed that I needed rest and so I agreed it would be better if they took them for the day. Twenty or so minutes later, everyone could tell I needed some space and some rest and we said our thank yous and goodbyes. The produce box remained on the counter in the kitchen.

I struggled to rest that day due to the crying baby that now possessed my life. Even in a quite house, this child has had difficulty with naps. I became even more of a monster that day. As you all know, when you are sick and tired, rest is the body’s best remedy. I was fighting a battle that I could not win. I am sure I raised my voice and yelled at my baby. I have a weak point with anger. So my day should have been relaxing entirely, but it was not. I do know that somewhere in there I found a few hours of sleep when E finally slept, but I know that much of the afternoon was spent wishing quietness in our home.

Now, as a mother who wishes she could control her temper at all times, days like this bring about a feeling of complete failure. Why would you yell at a baby that is crying because it can not sleep? Why would you not just hold him and rock him gently and sing to it? Why? Life is too short to hold a baby every single day all day long. There are chores to be done, books to be read, other people in the world to care for. I realize this sounds absurd, completely opposing what your parents tell you about children growing up too fast. Believe me, I know this. I did not expect to have a third baby so quickly. And I did not expect him to be the most demanding child I have ever encountered or heard of. Nothing could have prepared me for this one, although I am sure that God sprinkled preparation for him throughout my life, I still don’t feel I am handling him well. I simply must say that one mom, with three kids and a husband, can not spend day after day after day, holding, rocking, singing and trying to tire a baby with crying and sleeping problems. It is not physically possible. So two months in on his life and I feel marvelously incapable. I am failing on all counts on this Sunday: too sick to throw a birthday party, too tired to care for my two older kids, and far too angry at my little baby to feel much love for him at all.

Later that day, I made my way to the kitchen and began to unpack the gift I had been given. Dozens of tree-ripened nectarines, onions, new potatoes, tomatoes, and garden carrots. The carrots lined much of the bottom of the box. It was neatly arranged, potatoes here, tomatoes in this corner, it truely was a lovely gift to receive. As I pulled the carrots out I was overwhelmed. I pulled this carrot, two carrots really, out of a tangle of carrots. My heart stopped as I heard and looked. God spoke to me, “You are a good mom.” Plain and simple. Look, he impressed on my heart, see what I have made for you. For you. I made this carrot grow in the arms of the other, for you. That when you felt terrible, I could encourage your heart. I think you are a good mom. My God lifted my spirit. Jesus told me gently I was doing well. I thanked God for this carrot, this mother carrot that embraced her child carrot, and for his sweet encouragement. My spirit felt light. I did hold my baby that day.

We took photos of this carrot pair while it withered. Jed wanted me to post pictures of it fading, to write a tragedy to accompany them, but I feel the message I got from it was far more important. Someone may read this and doubt my experience, laugh perhaps, but it won’t bother me. I heard and felt what I did. God is good, he is loving and faithful. I am thankful that he is more personal than I can imagine.

I still struggle with loving my baby boy, he still cries more than I knew a 10-month old could, and I still find my self overwhelmed with frustration. I still get angry and yell sometimes. But in my heart I am trying as hard as I can to do the best that I can, for the God that I know will help me not only overcome, but will forgive me in the meantime.

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06-18-10:

I re-read this before finally posting it. I must express my thankful heart that my baby E. has improved. He is saying words like hat and light, signing and giving good kisses. Although there are many areas left to smooth out, he is improving and I do enjoy him more and more each day. Praise Jesus.

This Journey is My Own by Sara Groves

When I stand before the Lord, I’ll be standing alone
This journey is my own
Still I want man’s advice, and I need man’s approval
This journey is my own

Why would I want to live for man, and pay the highest price
What does it mean to gain a whole world, only to lose my life

So much of what I do is to make a good impression
This journey is my own
And so much of what I say is to make myself look better
But this journey is my own

And why would I want to live for man, and pay the highest price
And what does it mean to gain a whole world, only to lose my life

And I have never felt relief like I feel it right now
This journey is my own
Because trying to please the world, it was breaking me down
It was breaking me down

And now I live and I breathe for an audience of one
Now I live and I breathe for an audience of one
Now I live and I breathe for an audience of one
Because I know this journey is my own

And why would I want to live for man, and pay the highest price
And what does it mean to gain a whole world, only to lose my life
And you can live for someone else, and it will only bring you pain
I can’t even judge myself, only the Lord can say, ‘Well done.’

I read this and thought it worthwhile. My spirit is willing but my flesh is so weak.

Thanks Jen, for the name. More to come on the trailer. I love this.

I am hoping to see this room, looking something like this, some day this year. The waiting continues. But I must say that I marvel at how we have been provided for: places to live, a place to keep our possessions without cost, food, money, a healthy baby, and a marriage strong enough to thrive in a year with more stress than we’ve ever known. And the provision hasn’t stopped at enough to supply—it has been generous. So we blew out our candles the day before Christmas, in celebration of our Savior’s birth and we knew of his love for us in the year that we’ve passed. It has been given, beyond measure; filled up and running over. I will sing a new song this year, but it will have some old lines in it; the waiting will be woven into the fabric of my life, and I suppose that this is God, teaching us. I must become familiar with waiting now, while I am young, for I am sure I will be doing it most of my life. But for today new has come.