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Category Archives: Beauty

Who takes most of my blog pictures?

If there is a picture on my blog that looks really amazing. And if I look perfectly photoshopped in the picture. Or the kids look like darlings. Then Tracie Birch took the picture.

I always have great hair in her pics.  I think I might be skinnier, too.  She’s cool like that.

And she’s giving away a FREE SESSION with digital prints!

If you’re local to upstate, SC or you want to visit, go enter her contest.  It ends tonight!

I mean, look at the photo she took of my parents.  Perfectly captured his crazy.  Perfectly captured mom’s patience.

Cozying up with Little Women

Last night I took Norah and her two friends to the theater. We saw “Little Women”, the musical. I wanted to do something special for her friends since I knew their dad was deploying the week of the show.

As Norah and I pulled into their neighborhood, Norah said, “You know, Mom, the girls in Little Women are a lot like my friends’ dad. Both of the dads are gone to war.”

I had to pull over for a second. I hadn’t made the connection at all. Quickly, I ran through the story in my head. Would it be ok to take these girls to see it?

I pulled the girls’ mom aside as they loaded up and asked her thoughts. She looked as surprised as I had been. I can’t believe we didn’t think about it! She hurriedly took her youngest daughter aside and told her that the story tonight would be about a different war. One fought a long time ago.

I’m mentally kicking myself.

I’ve read Little Women umpteen times. Somehow, reading it and watching even the musical version at this time in my life has been powerful.

Reading it, I’m intrigued by Marmee as a mother. Her candid talk. Especially when she admits, “I am angry nearly every day of my life.” Mostly, Marmee makes me feel inadequate in every way. It is no wonder I latch on to this one revelation.

The musical was brilliant. Fifteen minutes into it, I stopped biting my nails and fretting over the girls. I got caught up in the story. The first moment that hit me was Marmee’s scene in which she tries to write her absent husband a letter. She wants to tell him how hard the days are and how alone she feels. And how she fears she is failing as a mother. But she can only write chipper words of encouragement. I ached for my friend who said the same thing about when she tried to write a letter to her deployed husband.

And then came Marmee’s song, “Days of Plenty” which begins after Jo asks, “How do you do it? How do you go on?” referencing Beth’s death.

I missed the funeral of a young mother in our community to attend “Little Women”. It wasn’t an easy decision. Images of my grieving friends and this mother’s small children were always in my thoughts. I wanted to be there to support them.

And then this song.

I refused to feel tragic,
I am aching for more than pain and grief.
There has got to be meaning,
Most of all when a life has been so brief.
I have got to learn something,
How can I give her any less?
I want life to go on.
I want Days of Plenty

You have to Believe,
There is reason for Hope.
You have to Believe
That the answers will come.
You can’t let this defeat you.
I won’t let this defeat you.
You must fight to keep her there,
Within you!

So Believe that she matters!
And Believe that she always will!
She will always be with you!
She’ll be part of the days you’ve yet to feel!
She will live in your bounty!
She will live as you carry on your life!

So carry on,
Full of Hope,
She’ll be there,

For all your Days of Plenty

I love that line, “She will live in your bounty.”

I didn’t know Eileen well. I knew her as a mom in the playgroup. Our conversations were rarely more than surface level mom stuff. She had sparkly eyes and a humongous spirit. I remember once when she spontaneously led the older kids in yoga poses during a babywearing group. They followed her like the pied piper.

Many of my friends knew her deeply and loved her deeply. And as I sat in the theater with tears falling off the tip of my nose, listening to a musical (a musical!!), I knew that I was hearing Truth.

She’ll be part of the days you’ve yet to feel. She will live in your bounty. She will live as you carry on your life.

My time with Little Women has been unexpectedly raw and revealing. And I have to believe there is reason for absorbing it at this time and place.

Of deployed husbands and fathers.

Of angry marmees.

Of grieving friends.

May we carry on full of Hope.

Lately Preparing for Christmas With

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy, never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
 
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount, I’m fixed upon it
Mount of Thy unchanging love
 
Here I raise my Ebenezer
Here there by Thy great help Ive come
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home
 
Jesus sought me when a stranger
Wandering from the fold of God
He, to rescue me from danger
Interposed His precious blood
 
O to grace how great a debtor
Daily Im constrained to be
Let that grace now, like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to Thee
 
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Heres my heart, oh, take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
 
Come, Thou Fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy, never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
 
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount, Im fixed upon it
Mount of Thy unchanging love
 

Overheard at a homebirth

I take notes during births.  I like to record comments.  Usually I get some funny ones.  Occasionally a few “you did this to me” from mama to papa. 

Here are all the notes I recorded from a recent homebirth.  I arrived 2.5 hours before baby so these were all spoken in active labor.  And mom is not a Hypnobabies student.  :)  

“What a magical time.”

“Gimme some lovin’”

“I can’t believe how natural this feels.”

“I love you.”

“It feels good.  How can it feel this good?  It is %*#&$ great!”

“Why do I feel it is easy?”

“So easy, easy, easy, so easy.”

And then after the birth, “I don’t know if that birth could have been any more blissful.”

The question is:  Do our positive words, feelings of love, and gratitude to partner/support team create an easier birth?   Or does an easy birth create the positive words, love, gratitude?

Expecting twins?

Sacred Moments

It was the middle of the day.  There were four of us.  A woman, her husband, their doula, and a baby ready to be born.  The light was muted by curtains.  She had carefully created this birthing room in her home.

It was an ordinary weekday.  The neighborhood went about its business.  The postman delivered the mail.  In the distance, someone cut the grass.  The school bus picked up and dropped off children.

But inside the birthing room, something transcendent was happening. 

Inside the birthing room, there was silence.  For an hour, complete silence as the woman worked with her waves.  The only sound was water.  Each time a wave began, I slowly poured water from a pitcher down her back.  And in the background, water flowed from a fountain she had placed in the room.

I didn’t dare speak.  The space was heavy with the sacred. 

This is what the Lord says—he who made you, who formed you in the womb, and will help you:  Do not be afraid…

for I will pour out water on the thirsty land…

I will pour out my Spirit on your offspring and my blessing on your descendants. 

They will spring up like grass in a meadow, like poplar trees by flowing streams.

(Isaiah 44:2-4)

Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself,

where she may have her young—a place near your altar. 

(Psalm 84:3)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is what the Lord says—he who created you…he who formed you…

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you by name; you are mine. 

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you…

Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you.” 

(Isaiah 43:1-4)

I glimpse the sacred at all births I attend.  I feel near to the altar.  Like a priestess serving the woman; but ultimately the Author of this new life.  It is a meeting of worlds–the spiritual and physical.  Soon after, the midwife and her apprentice arrived.  The baby was born.  And the world carried on, though forever changed by a new life.

As birth servants, may we ever tread carefully in these birthing rooms.  These altars.

More wooden lovelies

I promised to post some pictures of other beautiful wooden gifts Scott made for Christmas.

Wine bottle stoppers:

Coffee scoops:

Duck call:

Coffee Grinders:

Ice Cream Scoops:

Teething Necklaces:

And yes, he is working on the teething necklaces this weekend!  I’ll have some for those of you who wanted one very soon. 

I think he did a FAR superior job than that time I tried to make all our Christmas gifts.

A terrible beauty

I remember her towels.  For some reason, I keep coming back to the image of her soft, perfectly folded white towels.  They were so incredibly neat and tidy.  And pure. 

I wasn’t supposed to be her doula.  My partner had called me at the last minute and I entered her space for the first time when she was in labor.  She was stunning.  Brilliant red hair and a quiet strength.  This was their first baby and they wanted to stay home for most of their labor. 

I remember some funny things.  Some things that will remain unsaid.  I remember in active labor, I looked over and saw a shotgun (rifle?) by the bed.  I wondered if it was wise to have a gun so close to a woman in active labor.  I remember the ways I flubbed up.  One incident made my blooper page.  I remember laughter. 

We arrived at the birth center.  She was fully dilated and quickly pushed her baby into her husband’s hands.  A son. 

During her postpartum, when she needed extra help with breastfeeding, I brought lactation help.  Carey and I spent hours in her home.  It was the intimate time of women with the new mother.  We three cried when her milk came.   

Her mothering was fierce and deliberate.  She is the kind of mother we need more of. 

Last week, she died from an aggressive cancer.  She leaves behind her precious husband, her toddler, and her born-too-soon baby girl.  And it is awful.  It is wrong.  And not meant to be like this. 

Yet, there is beauty–certainly in her life–but also in her passing.  I heard her name from so many places during her illness.  People who didn’t even know her.  She breathed grace and confidence and HOPE.  This is the mystery of redemption.  That God, who does not  want suffering, can redeem it.  Beauty from ashes.  If we let him.

When I remember Jessica, it will always be a vision of those white towels.  And I’ll hope that my life will be as well-lived.

Some Favorite Things

Norah’s new nature shelf.  We’ve had trouble with Norah’s nature table.  Trouble that starts with a capital “C” and comes in the shape of a 16 month old wild thing.  For Christmas, Scott made a shelf to go above Norah’s bed.  Out of reach (for now) of Cedar.  It has a shelf on top and a string with clothespins for attaching feathers, leaves, butterflies, etc.  Norah had so much fun arranging her fall/winter nature treasures.  And the dead Hercules beetle that we are apparently keeping forever.   

The Jesus Storybook Bible:  Every Story Whispers His Name.  Oh my.  I had heard mama friends speak with such passion about this book.  I knew it would be good.  But this good?  I’ve been so frustrated with the Bible storybooks for children.  The stories are disjointed.  God is sending floods, kicking people out of a garden, sending plagues.  A cohesive story and an amazing grace are missing.  I cried when I read the introduction!  “You see, no matter what, in spite of everything, God would love his children–with a Never Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love.  And though they would forget him, and run from him, deep in their hearts, God’s children would miss him always, and long for him–lost children yearning for their home.”

The plasma car.  There is such joy I never could have imagined in hearing your children play together.  Sorry Mom, if I’d known, maybe I wouldn’t have fought with Noelle so much.  The plasma car has given me hours of happy sibling play.  Thank you, Great-Nanny!  Too bad she doesn’t have a computer to read this. 

 

Our completed fireplace.  My husband was determined not only to make most of our Christmas gifts this year but also to complete our fireplace.  He built this thing of beauty from nothing.  It was an empty corner.  He built the mantle, installed the logs, carved the designs and centerpiece, cut the rock, stacked the rock, cursed at the rock, swore he’d never mess with rock again.  And he finished it Christmas Eve.  He is a machine.  Or a superhero.  Or maybe a robot superhero.

 

I’ll post more on some of the other gifts he made.  After we give them all out.  There are so many other favorite things I’m enjoying from sweet family and friends.  Mostly, I’m savoring time together while my whole family is living geographically in the same place–until March.  More on that later, too.

How to treat a woman during childbirth

 

 

 If a woman doesn’t look like a Goddess during birth then someone isn’t treating her right.

–Ina May Gaskin

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