Cartography of the Blind

If an award for World's Most Conflicted Blogger existed, I'd be a shoo-in for first place. The last nine months-worth of snapshots molder away inside the computer, with a scant chance of seeing blogging daylight anytime soon.

They aren't the only thing that's moldering. During the last year, wrinkles have deepened, gray hairs have doubled, and I just feel older, although objectively I know I'm yet in middle age, Lord willing. I still feel ✨sparky✨half of the time, and I have much for which I am deeply grateful.

But I'm struggling. In the space of a year, the future I took for granted disappeared, and we all discovered that the place in which we intended to dwell never existed.

No good comes of mucking about in the Slough of Despond, but often hope is lost in heartache. People who don't, won't, or can't understand may interpret the sorrow as self-pity or as an overly dramatic response to the commonplace. Children often move far away, grandchildren are often distant, and we often don't see those we love as much as we'd like. The truth is, though, that the commonplace is where deepest joy and sorrow are found-- birth, death, and everything in between. And distance is hard. The ties that bind us to those we love must, of necessity, evolve when distance lies between. Loving someone who lives within easy driving distance is different than loving someone who does not, and it's ignorant of anyone to assume otherwise. 

I don't know how to say goodbye to the common gifts of inviting grown children and their families over for dinner, being present for baptisms and birthdays, making impromptu visits to help plant gardens, and reading books to grandchildren while their parents are on a date; all these were assumptions that were never promised but I never imagined living without.  Mapping out a land unseen is impossible, so I guess we're not supposed to make maps. Are God's lessons always like this?

In some ways, this is a terrible season for blogging. Who wants to read maudlin posts from the teary-eyed World's Most Conflicted Blogger? Not me. I don't even want to write them. I do want to start catching up on posts eventually, though, mostly to fill in the gaps in what has been our only family album for almost 20 years now. (Ulp. Yes, twenty years. It's no wonder life has me moldering.)

Of course there are good things.
Good things never cease.

I've posted no snapshots of Tim and Annika's beautiful wedding and of their overpoweringly smiley smiles, no artful photographs of daily beauty (because...I haven't really taken any), no consistent pictures of lovebirds Mildred and Henry, no snapshots and stories of our goofy and fun little children, no testament to the good days that have brightened the whole, and nearly no pictures of Mallory Mirth, even though she's one of the most delightful babies we've ever loved! I said it about Skylark and then about Ransom, but I was dead wrong. 

Mallory Mirth is the best last baby.

So while I'm speaking of good things and lovebirds and babies...
God gave the best gift to Tim and Annika shortly after their marriage.

Say "hullo, hi, howdy" to Baby Tiger-Fish!!!

 

These pictures from early December make up for the "Mother Buttons Up Daughter's Wedding Dress"pictures I did not get with Annika on her wedding day because I was running around like a lunatic unleashed.  Really, now, how can you top "Middle-Aged Mother Compares Baby Belly to Daughter's?"

And Baby Tigger has only grown since, along with those smiles that can't realistically grow any bigger than they already are. 

Praise God for new life. We are so grateful for this little baby!

(*Obviously all pictures of Annika or Tim&Annika were taken by Tim...or Annika. I stole them all from her texts.)

Real Time

 

Children are like fertilizer for one's ego.

Mysterious Unidentified Daughter: "I'm like...all the weird and bad parts of you."

(Anyone who guesses correctly surely knows our family in real life, ha!)

Real Time

I'm in the room adjoining the one in which 3 little girls and one Aidan are playing with birthday dolls.

Little girl: Who's theeeere?

Aidan, dopey-voiced: Prince Charming.

Little girl, disgusted tone: YOU again?!

Probably Just Sunday

Beads of dun spill out unseen 

While you walk laughing on the way. 

Heedless of what lands in dust, 

You have enough and more to spare. 

You string each one along coarse thread, 

A knobby line of common clay.

A line that lengthens as it must,

I try but can't avert my stare. 

And my hand aches 

From six bright stones, sharp-edged. 

The gems I grip are fine and rare, 

With colors fit for festal days, 

Yet I would trade with joy and haste 

For those you drop without a care.

Something New

**

**

*

Well, it's not exactly new, since Henry proposed last month, but as you can see from their flashing grins (and the flash of that lovely ring on Mildred's finger), our precious girl is moving toward life with someone she loves.

When she came home after meeting Henry for the first time, Millie told me, "He reminds me of the Terry boys!" Since she loves the Terry-boy cousins with her steadfast loyalty, we should have known. Last March, Henry called John to ask his permission to "get to know" Millie, and that's all it took. They got to know each other better, liked what they learned, and knew after 6 months that they'd like to marry each other. Henry was kind enough to my poor heart to delay the proposal until a few months after Annika left for life with Tim in VA, but when it arrived, their engagement was not a surprise

All of life is full of Big Things, but I'm at a loss when it comes to blogging this time with its potent mix of deep joy and deep heartache. Since she'll be getting married in three months and moving to NC, though, her engagement needs a marker on here so distant readers aren't surprised if I post wedding pictures someday. 

I guess all that needs to be said is that we are grateful that God saw fit to give Henry and Mildred the gift of each other, and we pray for them both as they approach the start of their life together. And that's the truth.

 

(All photos by Rebecca, except for the one with an *, which was taken at Annika's wedding by Danielle, and **, which are post-engagement selfies)

My Life Is Potato

Real Time: How to End a Phone Call You'd Rather Not Be Having

 

I just got a call from a woman who follows up on every baby born in our county. If I'd known it was that sort of call, I would have just ignored it entirely, but I thought it might be the pediatrician's office.

In the course of our brief exchange, both of us politely enduring a boring conversation, she informed me that she was available as a consultant for any parenting or nursing questions I might have about my newborn.

After congratulating me on Mallory's birth, she then (presumably) looked down at the paperwork she had regarding Mallory and muttered, "It says here that....well, THAT can't be right."

I waited in silence, and then she continued with a chuckle, "It says here that she's your 11th live birth."

"Why, yes, it CAN be right!" I replied, grinning.

The rest of the conversation wrapped up pretty quickly.

Baby Well-Born

 

2024 is nearly here, and I haven't blogged half of 2023. It was a hard year, which is hard to blog.

I bought the fanciest camera I'll ever own, and I've almost entirely stopped taking pictures.

I've come nearer than I ever have to closing up shotsnaps for good, and it's a mass of loose threads and gaping holes. Before the new year elbows out the old, though, I want to share a few crummy phone photos of the best part of the year, with more story to come in the future if I ever follow through on good intentions. (Elizabeth Frances! These are for you!)

Mallory Mirth practically fell into our arms on December 14th, and John and I marveled at her as if she was our first baby. This sweet girl of ours is a full-heart-spilling-over gift to two middle-aged geezers and their children, and we are full of love and gratitude.

The best papa. I love this man.

And here's an almost real-time photo Millie just took on her phone.

"Soon" is a Relative Term, Right?

 

We recently discovered that Pitterpat is a smushed baby elephant! Adjusting our expectations accordingly and accounting for a much longer gestational period than one plans on for humans, we're now anticipating introducing our new arrival by 🎄December of 2024🎄. 

Stay tuned! Baby elephants are worth the wait!

Coming Soon

 

PitterPat, already so loved by us all and fearfully and wonderfully made.

 

.

 

Apologies to those of you who sent emails and letters asking about access. I'm not ready to blog, but I opened the gates because I'd like those near and far to pray for our beloved Grandma Owen. Last Friday, I took this last-hurrah picture of Annika with everyone wearing flannels Grandma gave them, last Saturday, Tim and Annika joyfully joined hands in marriage, and last Sunday, Dudette received a diagnosis of acute myeloid leukemia as the explanation for her recent health troubles.  Her diagnosis came almost exactly nine years to the day after my dad received his diagnosis of the same, and the timing is baffling. Today, Annika moved to her new home 10 hours away, and Dudette begins her first treatment.

Please pray for the Lord to comfort her, Dude, her children, her grandchildren, and the whole family-- to wrap them in peace in an uncertain time-- and, in His good mercy, to strengthen and restore her body.  <3