Recent Developments

There are so many things to write down before I forget them. Here are the latest goings-on at our house:

F is a walker! And a champion, at that! Doug says she looks like a zombie with her arms outstretched, stiff little legs beneath her. I agree.

She is a snuggler! A girl after Momma's own heart! My lap is permanently occupied with a squirmy, sticky baby girl, usually carrying oversized books in her arms for me to read to her. Her favorite book is "Goodnight: A Bedtime Touch and Feel Story." She likes the page with the furry puppy dog on it.

She LOVES Daddy. A story to illustrate the cuteness of it: Our morning routine is fairly consistent. Doug gets up with F around 6:30, feeds her, and gets in the shower while I watch her play on the bathroom floor. F loves that because Daddy sings songs while he takes a shower. Shortly after that, F and I go downstairs and have breakfast while Daddy gets ready for the day. One morning our routine got thrown off and we came straight downstairs to play instead of playing in the bathroom. F kept pointing upstairs and yelling "Daaa-deeee!" It was really adorable.

Necklaces. F loves them. She lights up with glee when I put one of my long, dangly necklaces on her. I think she feels like a big girl.

No. F gets it. She may not understand that what I'm saying is, "No, don't hit Aspen in the face," but she understands that something she has done is displeasing. The world of toddler discipline, I can already tell, is going to be a hard and emotional place to navigate.

Lastly, F can show you where your nose/her nose is. : - ) (Even in that emoticon, she could probably point it out. :P)

Okay, that's all I've got for now. I'm sure there's plenty more. Tomorrow is her party. Must get moving.

Happy Saturday!

First Birthday.

It has been a year. Well, nearly a year.

What is there to say?

Too much. Too much about too much, and about too little.

It has been a year of heartache. It has been a year of strain. It has been a year of triumph. Of misery. Of conquering deeply rooted sin. Of watching His glory unfold.

Of taking baby steps, making huge strides, and learning to self soothe-- for all of us. It has been a year of floundering. Of mastering midnight feedings. Of learning the truth about myself and my spouse. Of loving each other in spite and because of it. Of smiling for the first time. Of starting anew.

This has been the best, most difficult, and most amazing year of my life.

My darling Fay, happiest of birthdays to you. You are my motivation to live with integrity. I love you fiercely and completely, my sweet thing.

The Action Bible, Written by Doug and Illustrated by Sergio Cariello

Hey, world. You know all those things that make me so awesome? Yeah, well, put those out of your head for a minute and focus on this. My HUSBAND wrote this. And guess what? The Action Bible is the #4 best-seller in Christian children's literature in the nation.

That's right.

My husband is awesome. That makes me awesome by association. You know what that means? You, too, are just a little bit more awesome...

:)

I used to fancy myself quite articulate, but lately-- over the last 11 months or so -- I've found myself at a loss for words. I now use emoticons to express the deep, intangible feelings that render me a sappy mute. I just figured you all might like to know why my blog title is the timeless smiley face, rather than some actual statement...

Anyway, I truly do feel baffled at how the things I'm experiencing internally can't seem to manifest meaningfully into words.

I try to write about the way F's early morning smile, drowsy and crooked and stolen from her father, ties me in knots.

I try to capture the way her ceaseless enthusiasm for the Belly Button episode of Veggie Tales fills me to near explosion.

I work so hard to put it in words, how I fall to pieces when she leans in so carefully and places a coveted kiss on her daddy's cheek.

And I can't. It wrecks me, and I just can't do it. I'm a failure in this way. There is a gap between what I feel and what I'm capable of saying.

There are angels who have spent centuries practicing the lost languages of love and sorrow, of hope and despair, of loss and gain; I am only confident that they can roughly translate that which I cannot find the words to say.

All I am certain of is this: Sweet F, you animate these archaic words. You make them fresh as any living thing. You are luminescent, and I was unaware of darkness.

Poesy...

*A repost in honor of Annabelle's upcoming 5-month birthday. You are a gentlewoman and a scholar, Annabelle. 

This is a poem I wrote for some dear friends who recently had a darling baby girl named Annabelle Aria. They are quite musical, which lent itself nicely to a poem. I hope you enjoy.

An April Morning

Beyond the woods where the Wood Nymphs play

Through the valleys where the Shadowlings lay

Over the hollow where the Hollyfolk stay

Bells can be heard a-tinkling away.

The Willow-waifs waltz in the melodious air

The Flutterbys flit with fanciful flair

And the Winklebees wave their wisteria hair

As they ready themselves for this festive affair.

The voyage begins with giddy delight

Dancing and singing by Candlebug light

Mayflower Maidens and Silverwing Sprites

All follow the music far into the night.

When sunlight spills over the Cloverwood Falls

And ushers them through the Heavenly Walls

The chorus resounding leaves each one enthralled

As they open the doors to the Great Music Hall.

Jubilant fanfare raises their wings!

Curlycues curtsey and Sugarbirds sing

Slipperfeet dance on violin strings

And all lend a voice when the final note rings.

The merry assembly issues a sigh

When a radiant presence captures their eyes

Standing before them in dazzling light,

The Composer, the Maestro, the Conductor of Life!

Their praises combine in a boisterous refrain,

“This music you’ve written, Father, give us its name!”

He pauses to answer, and His loving eyes swell

“This aria, children, is My Sweet Annabelle.”