“Our love of course seemed to us a miracle. First love always does, the old, old story sung by poets and sneered at by wrinkled of heart. And yet it is a miracle, an unbelievable miracle, just as every springtime of the earth is a miracle.”

"And there was a principle of courtesy: whatever one of us asked the other to do- it was assumed the asker would weight all consequences--the other would do. Thus one might wake the other in the night and ask for a cup of water; and the other would peacefully (and sleepily) fetch it. We, in fact, defined courtesy as 'a cup of water in the night.' And we considered it a very great courtesy to ask for the cup as well as to fetch it."

~Sheldon VanAuken, A Severe Mercy

Some of my favorite themes from a treasured book. And even better than reading the book, is the realization again and again, that for me, it's not just a romantic dream or a deep and unfulfilled spiritual longing. I'm actually lucky enough to have a love just like this.

day for giving thanks

On days like today, it's so easy. The wind keeps roaring wildly as it passes by the house and plows into the siding. The leaves are swirlng everywhere and the golden sunlight makes all of it glow. (I know, I have an obnoxiously recurring thing about 'golden sunlight' and wind. I just can't get over them. I think these kind of days force me to blog becuase I feel just too full.) When I happen to notice life-giving beauty for a moment, it seems time-less and mesmerizing, and I desperately want to store it up...to make it through the not-so-beautiful days.

The perfection of the magical picture outside my window isn't real. I'm well aware. Life just isn't quite that picturesque. For the past three weeks, I've been sick, ...hacking and coughing, struggling to breathe every night. Sore and weak from not sleeping, I've been grumpy and whiny too. In my exhaustion I tend to worry about things I care deeply about but can't solve. I've also begun to feel that nagging sense of urgency about my students' upcoming concert and my lack of remaining rehearsal time.

Ryan was gone on a business trip the night before last, and my single-mom-for-a-night self was frustrated and impatient with my squirelly children who where being silly and ridiculous and NOT getting ready for bed after a late night out at Wednesday night church. After a tearful saga and loud and a rather dramatic bedtime routine, we all finally slept.

Yesterday, the girls played with their Nana, while I spent the day listening to beautiful (as well as awful) violin, viola, and cello sounds, listening to (and attempting to offer wise advice? for) elementary playground conflicts, passing out bandaids, comforting tears, and hearing delightful stories about hours spent practicing and new songs memorized.

Now today, all seems well again. So my gratitude kicks in. Looking back, my week was just busy enough, with days at home, and work that I love at school. I feel full and accomplished and overflowing with gratitude for this restful day. My love for my students is growing as I watch them grow and our knowledge of one another grows too. They delighted me with enthusiastic stories of their practicing accomplishments this week.

Ryan arrived back home last night after two business trips in two weeks. And today, after work he begins his full week of vacation. (I'm envisioning a new mantle built over the fireplace and boxes of Christmas decorations being unpacked, stockings hung, lights twinkling...)

Sophie is sleeping upstairs after our fun morning of bringing Maya to school, sipping our coffee and chocolate milk at Starbucks, cleaning our house, reading stories, and bringing birthday oranges to Great Grandpa Andy & Grandma Marge. While we were there, Sophie got several rides down the hall on their walker (which I think is only used for giving Sophie rides?). They made her a bowl of Mrs. Grass chicken noodle soup at her request (at 10:30 AM!?) and a cup of instant coffee for me. We dug around their apartment through three bedrooms full of old cassette tapes, VHS tapes, books, pictures, boxes of yarn and old greeting cards searching for the DVD of Anne of Green Gables. The grandchildren bought it for Grandma last year for Mother's Day, but she couldn't remember where it was. When we finally found it, we discovered a broken DVD/VHS player. A problem that will need to be solved soon.

But the time was lovely, and I can't get over how grateful I am that my daughters have such rich connections with (four sets!! of ) grandparents and great grandparents. I've always had special grandparent connections too, but mine always lived far away, and my Great Grandparents where all gone before I was born. My children have an almost daily kind of life with Grandparents. Something I never even imagined. Today, Sophie's 93 year old great grandfather hopped down to his knees (as if it were no big deal) to give her a big good-bye hug. She ran to meet him (and I envisioned, with horror, her wild force knocking him over) and gave him a gentle hug. (phew)

it's the last day

Only, I don't feel quite as sad or panicky as I thought I would.

It's the last evening of Spring Break. The girls are sleepy and tucked into their beds, rooms are neat, clothes laid out for tomorrow. I'm not quite as organized or accomplished as I thought I might be at this point in my spring break (the kitchen isn't quite put together yet, and there are random toys and some clutter in the living room, my school bag isn't quite organized for the week), but still I'm very grateful and content.

And so....a list (that doesn't even scratch the surface) of the blessings I've been grateful for in recent days...

• lazy mornings with coffee, and eggs, yorkshire pudding or pancakes, french toast...or even just an un-rushed bowl of oatmeal.
  
• the decadence of a blank schedule
  
• the time to just be
  
• conversations that Ryan and I have even been able to finish.
• time to just laugh together...and smile across the room or couch at each other.
• singing together with the girls in the evening, playing games with songs, singing parts, and trying rounds...seriously, it's a little 'von Trapp-ish' or maybe just 'Rudd-ish'...but it's been crazy fun
  
• finishing a book, actually the last book in a series (by Madeleine L'Engle, of course) I've been working on (little by little) for....four years!?!? As much as I am happy to have finished, to have the stories completed inside of me....I will miss these stories and characters, the beauty of the storytelling, the wisdom and truth in the words. Happily, all five of them are neatly stacked on my bookshelf downstairs waiting to be reread someday (and discovered by my children!).
• a God that loves me more than I begin to understand.
• a world that is full of complexity and beauty and mystery.
• love
• summer is coming
  
• long drives with windows down, schubert symphonies playing, and sleeping girls in the back seat
• ice cream
• Sophia figuring out the potty just a bit more (we had a few major successes this week)
  
• finishing another "Little House" book...The Long Winter. We read the last chapter (which was all about the arrival of spring and the relief from the near starvation and bitter cold of the long winter) sitting out on the deck in the sun, wrapped in a soft blanket, smelling the grass, listening to birds, eating apple slices. Maya and I agreed that we'd store that memory away for a long time
• making running a new habit (again)
• summer is coming
  
• open windows and billowing curtains
• rain
• a job, actually two, that I love....these make the return to the 'real world' a little easier
• getting to fall asleep and wake up next to my Love, knowing that he loves me
• waking up to little voices and big eyes peering into my face
• some new shoes
• brothers and sisters
  
• summer is coming
  
• april
• living near beautiful beaches
• almost forgetting what snow looks and feels like (well, okay..that's an exaggeration)
• a warm and lovely home full of everything I need (and lots that I don't)
  
• a rare and delightfully long late night phone conversation (full of everything and nothing, planning, and laughing) with my dearest Mandy who now lives in the same STATE (and for a few months, the same town) as me!

Sometimes these moments of realization...this overwhelming sense of joy in life...can be hard to remember. This feeling of bliss may fade quickly (as the busy week actually begins). But the truest things that bring me joy won't actually fade, only my awareness of them.

As I age (I am almost 30 now), I fear that my heart is sometimes harder, more practical, sometimes even quiet. And my racing mind silences the quiet voice of the Spirit in my heart.
The truest things that are 'deepest in my soul' are less and less what I think about and live out. And the more pressing things, the worries, and urgent obligations crowd my mind so that in the few moments that I dream, I dream of silly, fleeting, foolish things. Things that are lovely but might be shallow. And the softness, the gratitude and passion are less evident in my life.

But the people and relationships that I've been given, (my daughters and my husband most of all) show me daily what love really is. They remind me to keep my heart softer...they help me to desire more than anything, to have a heart that is not conformed and hardened by my own selfishness and the world... but is being transformed by my Loving Rescuer and Creator.

This blogging thing always borders on narcissism, or 'navel gazing', and feeds the image-conscious affirmation seeker within me. Sometimes I think I really should just get a journal. But I can't write as well (or as fast) as I can type. Blogger just does something clarifying (and good, I think) for my brain. But in recent years (since Motherhood) I've devoted less time to this outlet. So for this reason, (and in an attempt to avoid (or feed?) this narcissistic tendency)...I mostly just post pictures and simple stories from our life, so that the people we love can see them (or not-- if they understandably don't really care to know what we had for breakfast).

Yet somehow this post turned into that introspective rambling that I used to do a lot more (when I had time). But if you've read this far, you must have loads of time...or you love me enough to put up with my level of craziness. So, thanks.

Who is beyond your imagination.

"Bodily calm is part of our presence to people, and also to God. You may be on your knees, standing, sitting or prostrate. You try to stop the body moving. You focus on something physical: the breath flowing into you, or the sounds that invade your stillness, or the awareness of your enveloping skin. Then you give space to the Lord who created you, who is more central to your being than your own mind is, yet who is beyond your imagination.
I pause for a moment and think of the love and the grace that God showers on me: I am created in the image and likeness of God; I am God's dwelling-place.

I exist in a web of relationships - links to nature, people, God. I trace out these links, giving thanks for the life that flows through them.
Some links are twisted or broken: I may feel regret, anger, disappointment. I pray for the gift of acceptance and forgiveness."

~from Sacred Space this morning.

Today

was a day I could re-live several times and never grow tired.

I have no sensational stories or events to retell. Today just seemed uncommonly great. It was full of forgettable normalcy... piles of clothes to be sorted, occasionally whiny children, unloading and loading the dishwasher...

But time seemed to be moving just right. I somehow avoided any moments of panic or exhaustion. In fact, I think time actually slowed for a few moments in the late morning while Sophie and Maya and I laid and rolled and crawled and ran in the sunny grass ...all of us laughing uncontrollably. We played with our 'pop-up' tent, pretending it was our house and later a drive-thru ice-cream shop (Maya kept ordering a 'sausage bar'?? She hates sausage).

The day ended with a surprise date. Uninterrupted conversations, a bit of quiet, dinner at 'the Pie Company' (where Ryan convinced me of the superiority of the 'French Dip') and a rare trip to the mall for some new jeans and a classic black shirt.

But the day began with an amazing sleep, waking to the sun...and happy girls. Since we have no milk and very little of anything else in the fridge, the girls and I splurged on breakfast at Toast-n-Jams. Our table was loud and messy and fun. And the woman sitting nearby was kind and friendly to Sophie who really never stopped staring at her and waving.

We met a new friend at the library who just turned three. Her grandparents and I tried hard to convince the giggly girls that the library was supposed to be a place for quiet reading. While they played and shared some puzzles, "Selena's" grandpa and I shared stories of our Finnish family heritages and the Upper Peninsula, copper mines, and Drummond Island.

Ryan was eagerly welcomed home for lunch. (Egg salad sandwiches--not my favorite..but one of his favorites from childhood.)

After lots of new stories from the library, the girls napped...for hours. And I cleaned and did laundry. And I actually liked it. I didn't finish. But...there's tomorrow. Right?

While the girls slept in their rooms on either side of me, I sat in the hallway upstairs, folding their clothes. Someone once told me a story about sitting with a mother in a hospital...a mother who was losing her daughter...talking (weeping, actually) about going home and seeing her little girls laundry. And so I've never been grumpy about folding their tiny clothes. It's actually one household task that's always held a unique pleasure for me. I think I'll have to keep telling myself that...until they're old enough to fold their own clothes! (smile)

i haven't given up....

...but this blog is struggling these days, huh?

I keep checking back here to see if the author has posted anything new.

Nope.

************************

I haven't posted anything this month, but March has been fun.

Here are some un-edited, randomly blurted, tired ramblings about my life lately:

• I've been cold, hopeful, and exhausted, and overwhelmed. And sometimes I've been surprisingly warm in the sun, refreshed, and content.
• Went to Ohio. It was crazy fun. Maybe I'll post pictures someday.
• I started running again. (well, I've gone twice now.)
  
• I've been practicing...but not quite as much as I should be...(my teacher is in China for a few weeks).
• Sophie is almost ONE!
• My house seems to stay messy more often than I'd like. It's making me a little crazy.
• But....the basement is organized. That was a miracle performed by my sister Katie...a surprise birthday gift for my sweet husband and me. Maybe I'll post a story about that sometime too.
• Sophia puts everything in her mouth. Another post maybe.
• I've turned into a bit of a 'NO' person. I LOVE to please people. To say 'YES'. It's an addiction for me. But my current state of crazy overcommitment has forced me into a new phase of my life, where I just say 'no'...to all kinds of great, fun, worthy, tempting activities. If I've coldly said 'no' to you recently....I'm sorry. Know that I hated saying the word. But trust me, if I hadn't been forthright and honest with you.....I would eventually disappoint you with my unavailability and lack of energy or enthusiasm.
  
• I'm feeling tired just thinking about summer....longing for the warmth, the break from work, but dreading the 10 credits spent away from my home. The next restful (or even manageable) time of my life just seems to be too far away to even see in the distance.
• So I'm trying to be here. Now. Not longing for the unattainable future that seems easier and more fun. Right now is fun. Right now is good. Right now is full of incredible joy (that I will soon look back on with longing). I know this is true....and most of the time this way of being fully present comes naturally. But often (more often in the last few weeks)...I have to keep reminding myself of the gift of 'now.'
  
• Sophie is just too precious and affectionate to describe. She is silly and smart. She loves playing with her bouncy ball, bobbing her head up and down as she watches it bounce, squealing and laughing trying to catch it, chasing it all over her room as it rolls in front of her.
• Tonight Maya and Sophie were resting their heads on each others' shoulders....putting their noses together, smiling and laughing...holding hands while riding in their new side-by-side double stroller/ bike trailer.
  
• That's all I've got. I'm cold (the thermostat is set to drop when I should be in bed), and I'm tired.

Today felt good.

It was one of those days that was filled with moments of certainty... that what I'm doing is right. That I will survive, even grow, accomplish something...amidst the blurr and chaos that I sometimes feel exhausted by.

Today, all the daily things...the mundane tasks (dressing girls, changing diapers, washing dishes, making coffee, packing lunches, pushing my teaching cart, tuning violins, taking attendance, focusing students, starting dinner, cleaning dinner, washing dishes, changing diapers, clearing clutter), ...didn't feel quite as futile as they sometimes can.

Despite finding out 1 minute before my first class started that because of a funeral, I wouldn't have a classroom or a piano for my choir and despite having a second grader leave music class with a slightly bloody, fat lip...as a result of a new 'circle game' we tried (something like duck-duck-goose), my students seemed brilliant, charming, surprising, attentive (mostly) and sweet.

Most days, at least once, I find myself grumbling inwardly (or outwardly) about the piles of laundry that get cleared...for about an hour before piling up again; about the dishes that seem so sparkling clean and neatly stacked until the next meal time; or the crumb covered, yogurt smeared floor that sometimes gets swept 3 times a day or more and still looks messy.

Sometimes the joy, the gratitude that I have for my rich life gets clouded so easily, so quickly.
But today it was inexplicably easy to just enjoy the smiles, the silly laughter, the squeals to be chased, the focused and earnest but (honestly quite awful sounding) ensemble playing in strings today, the middle schoolers who 'wrote' and performed a five part improvisational round-song, the husband who entertained us all with "YOU MUST PAY THE RENT...." over our chile dinner, and who swept the corn bread crumbs and vacuumed the living room and the steps.

No particularly obvious reason for this day of clarity, contentment, and balance. But I'll take it.

And I'll try to remember it, because...

...tomorrow will probably be different. Things do fall apart.

Sometimes...

...looking around, it seems like an inordinate number of things are out of place in life. That brokenness and disappointment are everywhere. That the glimmers of hope for which I desperately grasp are being relentlessly
torn apart,
clouded,
and revealed to be less than I imagined.

But sometimes,
hope
is impossible to miss. It is overwhelming and delightful. One piece of the shadow can disappear and the light pouring in is suddenly and blissfully blinding.


One of the more persistent shadows just disappeared.
It's not my news to share yet.
(If you checked all my friend links, you might find it)

But I'm jittery and silly with happiness.

I wish my abilty to feel things for other people held some
practical purpose.

It seems so meaningless to ache with hurt when it can't fix anything.

I wish my ability to carefully construct the world around me into a sepia toned, nostalgic, warm and fuzzy dream world could actually mend the brokenness that seems to lurking in too many corners right now.

This selfish craving of my own personal warmth and security in knowing the people I love are fulfilled, happy, loved...
...doesn't mean that they are fulfilled, happy, loved.

And all of my imaginative, artistic, naive wishing doesn't really hold any power to alter reality or hide the truth that life is not...sepia toned.

If it could somehow, magically (miraculously?) restore some of the hope, truth, depth into some of the broken things around me...would I be willing to give up the comfort (and appearance) of my own 'fairytale-ish' life?

Sometimes...

...there seems to be far more chaos than even I can feel. So much confusion and brokenness that I can't seem to focus enough to even feel anything.

And most of the time, I can feel everything...for everyone.

But tonight the heavy chaos around me and my own (mostly happy) chaos have left me with a kind of false tranquility, even ambivalence...

...a way of distancing and preserving myself from all the hurt of others that I usually immerse myself in?

Maybe I'm just tired.

But the cloudiness seems thicker than fatigue.

I've been reading my last post again and again.

They aren't even my words. But somehow they sort of answer/calm my questions about myself.

Is who I am okay? Shouldn't I have done more by now with my abilities and dreams? Am I more than mediocre at anything? Why do I feel the need to make excuses for what I'm not?

Everyday I make choices to do the best with what I have at the moment, to do what's possible with what I have...knowing that if only I practiced more, prepared more, had more motivation, creative energy...I COULD do something really profound and truly great. But the dailyness of this cycle seems to confirm that maybe I'm not great...at anything.

I'm not exactly feeling bad...just trying to identify, sort-through, the feelings that seem to linger under the surface every day.

In a few minutes, I'll leave our house to join Ryan for the (what used to be our date-night) Symphony. He just called to see if it would be okay for us to have dinner afterwards at my favorite restaurant with the conductor and the guest artists.

Really. This is normal for us now. It sounds like a dream. But instead of excitement, I mostly feel intimidated, regretful. The chasm of contrast between my 'ordinaryness' as a mediocre music teacher who plays the violin (and is a bit "rusty" at the moment...or for the last 3 years) and the brilliance, success, and dilligence of these REAL musicians leaves me far more aware of my....(here it is again)...mediocrity.

But I must grow up. I must embrace my inadequacies, my vulnerability... How did she put it?
"unafraid to be vulnerable, involved, committed, to accept disagreement without feeling threatened (repeat and underline this one), to understand that I cannot take myself seriously until I stop taking myself seriously--to be, in fact, a true adult."

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts...the words of Christ dwell in you richly. And be thankful. (Colossians)

So off I go.

Elgar's Cello Concerto and Madeleine L'Engle...

...breathed life back into me.

Also...I remembered that I am loved.

The emptiness doesn't seem quite so thick today.


************************************************

"When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability... To be alive is to be vulnerable."

Madeleine L'Engle, "Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art"

Oswald Chambers had harsh words for me tonight...

"Why shouldn’t we experience heartbreak? Through those doorways God is opening up ways of fellowship with His Son. Most of us collapse at the first grip of pain. We sit down at the door of God’s purpose and enter a slow death through self-pity. And all the so-called Christian sympathy of others helps us to our deathbed. But God will not. He comes with the grip of the pierced hand of His Son, as if to say, "Enter into fellowship with Me; arise and shine." If God can accomplish His purposes in this world through a broken heart, then why not thank Him for breaking yours?"

Empty

That seems to be the state of my intellect lately.

Though becoming a mother has overwhelmed me with unimaginable love, the purest happiness, new depth...

...the practicality and repetition of daily life seem to be shutting down my ability to think or care about much else.

Do you ever just have really dry spells?
Creatively, spiritually, mentally...

It's almost as if the euphoria of my time spent with Maya and my immeasurable joy in being her Mother has drained me of all other ability to care.

Or maybe I care too much...about all the real and imagined problems of the people around me that I love. Either way, the weight of my emptiness is tangible.

I'm so disappointed with myself. I have everything. Most of the time, I feel intoxicated with gratitude and happiness. My heart has never been so full of love as it is now for Maya and Ryan. Still, sometimes I feel like I'm disconnected somehow...from my former self...from God.
Until a few days ago, I haven't even been honest enough with myself to notice this.

It's quite self-absorbed, I know. It's whining, self-pity, ingratitude, prayerlessness....

Still.

Does everyone experience moments of sheer disappointment? With no apparent cause?



*******************************************************************************

Now there's a really enticing "welcome back to my blog!' first post in a month."

Probably far too personal. I do apologize....but you must consider:
1) my level of exhaustion at 11:30 PM,
2) the intense ability/habitual tendency that I have to *feel* everything, and
3) my inability to filter my expression of my feelings.

I am completely transparent (and hopelessly dramatic)...definite flaws. I'll certainly live to regret them.


I promise, when my inspiration returns, I'll think of something really great to make up for such a depressing post.

For now, here's the best way I know how to make it up to you...

just before sleep on saturday night

Not much to say.

It's simply been too long.

The familiar routine of school is slowly taking over my life... a different sort of routine than that of my new 'Mayan' need for predictability. Both structure inducers bring good things. Neither seem to ever completely settle into 'the swing of the things' (as is always expected to happen but never actually does).

Our house is no longer black.

I miss its 'goth-ness' but I do like the new nautical/ beach-y/ Ralph Lauren-ish look...
(more work still to be done, help is welcome,...pictures to come)

Tuesday morning will be painful. But it is still days away...

I do love my days with students. And my days with Maya even more.

Stability, contentment seem real at this moment. Even easy.

"..but every day I am swayed by whatever is on mind."

"Hello Ohio, the back roads. I know Ohio..."

It was fun to be back in the State of our early days of marriage. I remembered a few things that I loved about Ohio...

The rest stops on the toll road. They not only have TCBY, but also Panera...AND Starbucks. Crazy. Ohio does some things right.

The winding roads. I will cherish my memories of this weekend, driving down twisting roads covered by huge tree branches and glittering sunlight. Catching up with Rachel. Feeling younger. Remembering how much I miss the girls.

Historic brick mansions. Maya and I enjoyed strolling through the gardens, soaking in the beauty of the pools and greenery, sipping ice tea before we feasted inside the Oneil House at Marc and Allison's Rehearsal Dinner.

Friends. Though only a few of them are truly 'Ohioans', some of my deepest and most enduring friendships were made in Ohio. The setting pulled from my mind memories from college of packed cars racing down hills and around curves, weekends in Akron, Cincinnati, Kentucky. Falling in love with the music of Franck, Chopin, Ben Folds, Miss Saigon. Being with my best friends in dorm rooms, Theaters, Opera Houses, college towns, Coffee shops, YellowSprings, Chipotle, Easton, The Cheesecake Factory, art museums, downtown streets of Cincinnati, recital halls, practice rooms, Ballets.
The yearly weddings are always a fun excuse to see eachother, but the time is always far too busy and short.


Andy, Lynn, Jaelyn, & Addison. Walks around the circle. Ice Cream. Endless attention for Maya from her cousins. Morning coffee. Silly games of scherades. Basmati rice. Pandora radio (you *will* love it.) Coffee freezes and smoothies in downtown Canton. Huge, monumental slides. Lots of singing. Unending piano music. Ave Maria. Stories. Laughter. Avocado Chicken. And Aunt Lynn and Maya meeting for the first time.


Lynn's cookies.











Singing the benediction while holding hands accross the pews at Vermilion Evangelical and Reformed Church. On our way home on Sunday, we visited our old church in Vermilion where Ryan was a youth pastor. It was so fun to show off our sweet babygirl. And surprising to see almost all of our 'kids'...who were much taller, older, smarter, and no longer middle-schoolers. We walked in as the service started and didn't see any of them there, but by the end of the sermon, our pew had been slowly filled (thanks to cell phones, we think). So as I was saying, we ended the service like always... holding hands, singing a blessing to the tune of Edelweiss...really!



So Maya loved Ohio. This is how she actually looked for most of the trip!

maya's first road trip

Tomorrow morning, I will leave town with my parents (something I've done countless times before)....and my daughter (something I've never done before). This will be Maya's very first long trip.
She's very excited about it.

We're transporting a piano to 'casacommunitas' (my brother's house in Canton, Ohio).

It is the piano that first taught me to make and love music. My brothers and I grew up listening to our mother's unmistakeable style of arranging hymns on this piano. Falling asleep to her 'sweeping glissandos.' Soon the piano will be at Andy's house for his family to enjoy it's music as he did.... (an excerpt from his mother's day post a few years ago)...

"Lying in bed with the lights out and down the long hallway of the ranch house echo the gentle fingers of my mother playing and playing and playing the piano. Sometimes she would be practicing a particularly troublesome phrase, more often --just playing. Laying there hovering just above sleep I would feel profoundly that the music was a kind of visceral fabric that bound my brothers and sister and father together throughout the otherwise quiet house in the rhythms, the melodies, the countermelodies and always, the sweeping glissandos.

My mom drags her finger up the keyboard, but then slows each of the last notes to one by one keys at the top of the scale and just before the next musical phrase starts there is the slightest of pauses, too brief to fit all of these words into, but long enough that your soul starts to yearn expectantly toward the resolution of the chord, the forward motion of the music, the next great possibility."

I can't wait to hug my Jaelyn and Addison and see them love their new cousin, Maya.

Ryan is coming too, but he can't leave until Thursday after work. We are going to my beautiful friend Al's wedding. (An early wedding rehearsal being the reason that Maya and I are tagging along with my parents on wednesday.) I can't wait to dance to the music of the jazz trio at the reception...

and to be with all of them again...

I miss my friends!

My amazing friend Mandy works in a Children's ICU.

I've always told her that I could never do her job. The weight of all the sadness there would be too much for me. Children who are sick...sometimes dying. It seems so unnatural and wrong.

My job may require patience (occasionally there are *some* rough days), but I don't ever have to watch grieving parents watch their child suffer.

Schools are full of life...and hope. Mostly healthy kids, learning, playing, growing.

This morning at one of the elementary schools where I teach, I was surprised and concerned to see tears in the office. The matter-of-fact, cheerful, efficient secretary didn't greet me as usual. I thought maybe she had just received news about a family member or close friend. This afternoon, when I returned to the school, I understood.

The classroom teacher quickly tried to warn me that something really sad had happened....the kids might say something. We'd talk after class. But as I started to welcome the kids, several kindergarteners raised their hand.

"Mrs. Corbin, Alexis isn't here because she died."

It was true. My beautiful little kindergartener, died last night after complications from a heart operation.

We sang together. Silly songs about "Old King Cole" and "BINGO." They laughed and sang and played, but it was hard. Maybe not for them. They can't and probably shouldn't feel the weight of this. Not yet.

I think that must be the most awful pain that a parent could ever feel.

I still feel sick.

Some of my favorite things...

...last night I had a dream about isaac and will. There was no plot. Just lots of happy smiles and Will's 'cooing' laughter. It was so comforting and beautiful.

...I had this dream around 7:45 AM. Yes, that's right, I was still sleeping then. I have Mondays off.

...Before I went to sleep last night, I got to spend time with my very best friend, Mandy, who lives too far away. While we shared warm bread and olive oil, we enjoyed talking about lots of fun things. I always feel so loved and comfortable with Mandy. She is the best kind of friend. I miss her already.



...On Saturday, I had a total of 6 phone calls that all started with singing (usually the whole song) "Happy Birthday to you..."
One of the phone calls included several singers...of whom a few continued to sing the song over and over for the entire phone call...screaming "CHA CHA CHA" each time they ended.



...Living next door to these two amazing kids allows me to hear their laughter in the backyard and see their tricks on the trampoline. Sometimes we can hear them outside of our window in the morning, leaving for school. I even get to be their music teacher at school too. I think that is my favorite part of my job.

...This Thursday, Ryan and I will be starting a dance class in Grand Haven for eight weeks. He is the best gift-giver I have ever known. (This is truly a sacrificial gift. I think he is dreading it, but he knows how much I love to dance with him.)

...Tonight, I will be going to my art class (another present from my sweet husband-from a birthday two years ago).

...In less than a month, I get to spend a long weekend at the cabin with this wonderful man, and two of our really good friends.

...I have many encouraging friends who listen when I whine about my disapointment and wounded pride. People who know the right things to say to help me heal and remind me of all the joy in my life too. Thank you.

twenty-four.

Tomorrow.

Doesn't that sound old?

But I've always been a sort-of 'old soul'...so a more mature age doesn't really bother me. I've always pictured myself as an old lady...except for the disturbing premonition I used to have that I would die young. That's just my morbid, dramatic way of thinking (even when I was a little girl). Maybe it's because my mother, everytime she left for a trip...or even just to go out...would hug me violently, often sobbing, telling me that she loved me...and that I could have her piano and her dishes if...

That dark way of looking at life did help me to understand human frailty. I don't usually take time or relationships for granted...knowing that I am not guaranteed tomorrow. But I do feel things a little too deeply.

Right now...I'm feeling deeply overwhelmed by tomorrow. Not my birthday. Usually I look forward to that.
Tomorrow, at 2:40 I have my audition in Grand Rapids.

I may have news to post tomorrow. (gulp) Thanks for all your encouragement and accountability to at least follow through on this.

If they choose someone else, I think I'll take it as a sign that God is showing me that I can't handle one more thing this year.

(Actually, that is just what I'm using to deny the reality that I just might not be good enough--It's much easier to identify my failure as God's will. So we'll just call it that.)

I don't have every note under my fingers. There's just too much music...and difficult music. I've improved my playing noticeably though (at least to me). And I feel really good about what I've accomplished as a violinist...something I haven't felt in a long time.

So regardless of what tomorrow brings, I know that this is good. (Even if *I'm* not good enough.)