Be Good.

I am not the most eloquent writer and I am most definitely not the most articulate. However, I hope that somehow tonight, I find a way to get a little of my heart out here on this page so that you might be able to hold some of it in yours.

This week has been a painful one, to say the least. January 12, 2017 was the day I began living life without my Grandma Imogene on earth with me. I'm 37. I was born and raised in the same community as my Dad's parents. In fact, I still visit my Grandpa in the same home they raised their four children in. For one year I have been trying to wrap my mind and heart around the fact that one of the first most influential women in my life...is in heaven. Also this past week, one of my very dearest friends (whom is younger than me) started her first days without her Daddy here on earth with her. This is gut wrenching for me. There is nothing I can do to make a moment of this time less painful for her. I have shed so many tears for the man that this family is missing. I don't understand why his time was so short. He was good. He was young. He IS LOVED...and this is from someone on the outside.

You see, for years, even in adulthood I have been told to "Be Good." As a kid, leaving to go to a friends to play..."be good!" When leaving for a high school dance..."have fun and be good." Leaving my grandparents house after coming into town from college "ya'll come back! Be good!" And yet never before have I thought about these two words more than I have the last 3 days. I think for the last 37 years I have interpreted this sentence as "Don't be naughty." "Stay out of trouble." "Don't get caught where you aren't supposed to be." But after today, these two words will never sound the same.

I have seen hundreds of men and women, young to old line up to speak words of love and kindness. I have witnessed hundreds of men and women, young and old line up for hours to share with strangers their story. To hug and cry with those they never met to express their deepest sympathies. I have overheard grown men with shaken voices in a gas station discuss the impressive chant, the helping hand, the weekly lunches and whose turn it was to take the check. The one common denominator, was this man. I am more than proud to say that I knew Ron Flaigle. I didn't have to see any of these things or hear any of these stories to know the impact that he had on the world around him. I can tell you, that on more than one occasion he told me be to "Be Good." as I hit the road out of town after a quick visit with my bestie and her wonderful family, (one that very quickly took me in as their own). Often after a hilarious lunch of queso smothered burritos, in which he insisted to pay for, that probably ate up a few hours of his day.

Be. Good.

Today this sounds so different. It isn't saying what not to do, but just the opposite. In fact these two words are quite literal and boldly black and white. BE GOOD. Be kind, without reserve. Dive into your village and help one another out. If you see someone in need and you have the means to help them, hook up your truck and pull them out of the ditch, just because it is the nice thing to do. Listen. Smile. Don't complain. Make people laugh. Make people feel valued. Invest in the youth around you. Teach your children to work hard, dig a hole, and to take pride in a job well done. Lead by example. Rise early. Make memories. Build fences. Tear down walls.

Ronnie, your boots will never be filled. As you look down from heaven, I pray that you can see the impact you made on your loved ones and community. You will be missed greatly by those who love you, and your legacy will live on forever because you sir, were good.

Tears In My Ice Cream

The small round table stood proud against the dated chocolate and mandarin velvet sofa that held it's place for years, cozy and protected under the smooth throw. It knew days of daily crosswords and puff paint and glitter  masterpieces created over and over on Kleenex and Puffs boxes. But this story, it isn't about the little white table in the little slightly crowded living space. It isn't even about the mural of 8x10's that donned the wall from ceiling to the tops of the furniture. This story is about the wild haired woman who would shuffle to this table.

The photo journalist, the secretary, the wife, the mom, the neighbor, the aunt, the eccentric, the well read, the grandma...would spend hours at this table reading the newspaper every single day. Sometimes over and over. Often she would come across an article that tickled her clear to the funny bone. She would share it with her husband who sat near in his worn comfy chair. Then would jump to her desk, grab her black handled scissors and cautiously cut it out. Later she would make the treck to the car to the local grocery store to make several copies of this hysterical local news, she would trace the lines of comical content with her brightest yellow highlighter. And then, it would get stacked on the small white round table that stood proud against the dated velvet sofa.

The real excitement would come when the doorbell rang or a fist would knock, or a grandkid would creek open the screen door. Because she knew that now, now she could share this "local news". She would give her greetings and quickly slip the carefully copied, diligently highlighted article into the hands of the expecting guest. She would watch their eyes, hers beaming. Toes bouncing in her shoes. Smiling ear to ear. It was almost like she saw the words in her mind as they were being read and just when the reader was about to get to the funny part...the cutest little giggles would erupt from the soul of this wild haired, foot shuffling woman...and the crowded living space would explode in laughter.

Joy.
She brought so much joy.
And that giggle will be a sound that will ring in my ears for eternity.

This week, I have had more than a handful of reminders of this beautiful woman and her influence on my life. I have also had a handful of reminders of the hurt and vacancy one can leave when they go. The first year of my life without my Grandma Imogene on earth with me, has not been an easy one. I miss her every day, at the same time, I smile often as the universe gives me frequent reminders of my wild haired woman. Tonight, I dish up her feel better cure all and tears fall in my vanilla ice cream with Hersheys syrup (hold the banana's Grandma).

Desperation

There is a blog that I follow, From Blacktop to Dirt Road. After watching her latest post, I cannot stop thinking about the word Lauren chose for her 'Inspiring Word for 2018". Desperation. According to Google Dictionary:

des·per·a·tion

ˌdespəˈrāSH(ə)n/

noun

1. a state of despair, typically one that results in rash or extreme behavior.

Inspiring? In the beginning I felt this to be a bit of a stretch, I heard her reasoning and got where she was coming from. At the same time, I wasn't sure what all one can do with such a specific, lacking of encouragement and warm fuzzies type of a word. She talks about a story from the Bible of the woman who was so desperate to be healed (the woman had been bleeding for 12 years for goodness sake) that she reached out to touch Jesus' clothes and by faith was healed instantly. (You should check out her post yourself. She did an amazing job at telling the store in a way that this momma got it.) She was desperate to be healed. She sought after Jesus, through the crowds and masses with desperation.

So, this morning on neat little "On This Day" thingy on FB, this selfie popped up from nine years ago. I know that most of us are in a different place than we were nine years ago, I feel like a TOTALLY different person all together. I look rested and flirty and my nails were done. I probably put my make-up on every day and was hitting the gym like a boss. Nine years ago I was not a SAHM of three. I was not a wife, not a girlfriend. I had given up my career and moved home. I was lost and trying to find my place with DESPERATION motivating me. That was my first thought when this pic showed up..."God, I was so desperate to know Your Plan!" I think that it was about this time that I had finally decided that although I felt that I had been hardwired to be a wife and a mom, maybe it wasn't the plan that Christ had for me. With Jeremiah 29:11 on repeat in my mind (For I know the Plans I have for You...) and Trust Your Journey was my mantra...I tried to go with the flow and live in the moment. Oblivious to the fact that a handful of weeks later, I would reconnect with that tall boy from 5th grade, the man I was to marry.

The last 24 hours I hae been reflecting on this word. None of us wish to be in a state of despair. But what if I twist my perspective of that word a bit, like it seems this lovely lady has and use it to force an extreme behavior with Christ at the forefront? What will I look like as a Woman of God? How will it change me as a Wife? Will it be evident in the way I "mom"? Will it weave through my friendships?

As I think more and more about this seemingly less than inspiring word; desperation, I think that perhaps this other Momma may be onto something. I look forward to being in her back pocket as Christ leads her through 2018.

And So It Grows

We have all come to the conclusion that I am terrible and keeping up on these blog posts...afterall it has been nearly a year since my last. And what a year that has been.
At this point it is well known that the Fab 4 is no more for we have become the Fab 5. Deryk and I welcomed Natalee into the world in June. She is perfect with her firey red hair and spirit to match! We are all just completely smitten. Even Jaxon. It has taken him the full 6 weeks to get that way mind you but he too loves our new gift.

As my maternity leave is on the down sloap of heading back to the daily grind, I am somewhat out of sorts. I know that my children get the very best care they could possibly get when not with Deryk and I. We are so blessed that they get to play with their Beppe (Deryk's mom) every single day. But you see, I have been SPOILED! Not only have I had the  chance to recover from the 9 month toll and traumatic even of delivery, but I have bonded with this tiny package full of a huge amount of life. Just as significant to me are the moments I have had with Jaxon, that I miss out on. Not only does our Miss Natalee change from day to day but this Baby Boy of mine has changed into something, not much of a baby at all right before my very eyes!

I've changed lots of diapers the last 6 weeks but I have also taken hundreds of pictures, read a million books and drove hot wheels for thousands of miles through the livingroom floor and over tables and legs and heads...

I've been reminded this week that life can at times be very short. Too short it would seem. So, every diaper, every selfie, every page, and every mile did not go untreasured.

A Watched Pot Never Boils

Here I am. Four long days from my due date and I find myself starving to hold my little baby boy.  I know that most or many of you have the opinion that first babies are always late. I've been told a million times the last several weeks. However,  this is not the trend in my family. You may think I'm impatient... I have waited a long time for this blessing and I am so excited that Good is trusting us with this little life. I think what others don't get is that it is not just me who is ready for Jaxon and his perfect timing. I don't want to have to decide what day he arrives... What if I pick the wrong day... What if he comes on Christmas day and Sam doesn't get to have Christmas morning in her jammies waking up to stockings over flowing and presents under the tree.  Sure it could all happen the 26th or 27th,  or even at the hospital. Will that make Christmas extra special for her,  for all of us,  or will she feel cheated? On the other hand Jesus' is pretty hard to compete with when it comes to birthdays...But ironically beautiful symbolism.

As Deryk and I approach our 40 week appointment pray that we make the best choices and find great place in God's timing. Daddy is way better at this than Mommy is :)

Mary Did You Know?

It's been weeks since I've managed to sit down and blog about our twisted journey but today I was overwhelmed by a mommy moment. We find ourselves slipping into 38 weeks smoothly... as smoothly as the previous weeks. Our family is both excited and I think maybe a little shocked at how quickly time has flown.

This weekend Deryk and I have had the chance to have several little moments,  just us. I needed this time to remember that although our time together is going to be different we are still a team, lovers, besties, and parents.

Catching Fire

 

 

I had a silly list...a list of things that I really needed to have done before our little man made his grand entrance into our world. First on the list was to have my bag packed. I'm sure there are many things that I'm forgetting but I feel better having undies and my own shampoo.

 

 

Next on the list was to have our Christmas tree up. We can't have a Christmas baby with no tree or host family Christmas with no tree.  (And of course the "God Family")

 

 

Thirdly I wanted to have Jaxon 's room in perfect shape.

 

Well, today as I was working on #3 of the list and humming Christmas carols to my little man in uterno, I thought of Mary. You know of her,  Jesus'  momma. I thought about how terrified she was yet how honored,  how unworthy she must have felt yet thrilled. As I worry about clothes being in the right drawer,  or if pictures are hung in just the right spot,  while daddy hangs Christmas lights on the house,  I wonder if Mary and Joseph did the same things in the stable?

 

 

I wonder if Mary fluffed the straw in the manger to make it as fit for A King as she could? I wonder if Joseph mucked the stall where he thought Mary would deliver?  As I putter around trying to make everything just so,  I can't help but wonder if these first time parents wanted the same thing...after all they were about to bring the Messiah into the world!  I think this is the first time I ever thought about what must have been going through Mary's mind other than feeling unworthy and fearful!

 

Perhaps this is why we are being blessed with a Christmas baby...to have more perspective,  more gratitude for the gifts that we have been given.

Merry Christmas to each of you and a very blessed season of joy from some very excited Fabers!

25 Weeks Already?

Samantha and I had a little date day while Deryk strategically drafted one of his Fantasy Football teams. This resulted in us enjoying some yummo pizza together and a little photo session with a friend from when I was a child.

Here's a few shots from our first official Maternity Shoot.

25 Weeks