I had a relatively uneventful day but it was packed with emotion. Lots of bitter sweet moments for time that has already passed. I walked through a children’s store to pick up a red dress for Lucy, she’s been pretty adamant about not having one, I lingered a little long running my fingers through the 3t clothes. It wasn’t that long ago (or so it seems) that she was bundled up in too big new born clothes and we were scrambling to get some preemie outfits because she was so tiny.  I saw several outfits that we have owned or that I know I have boxed up and saved for a future date and I couldn’t but get a little heart sick. This is her third summer and we will only have 15 more after this, if three can fly, I can only imagine how quickly the rest go. And yet. So much has changed since her first summer. The summer of love and dread. The summer her dad and I closed doors and chased dreams of our own.

All of this thinking definitely brought up the question of: Am I doing this well? Are we living? Or are we rat racing to our deaths because I know no one gets out alive?  Do I worry too much? Am I too bothered by things I can’t change?

Then. As I sat at my sewing machine sewing ring slings, matching ones, ones for Lucy’s soon-to-be step mother/womb carry of brother, for Lucy (a doll sling) and one for myself. The significance is that baby wearing is life. Its been my life line to Lucy and Lucy’s secure place. That being said the wrap is a Halloween wrap, Lucy’s favorite holiday. It all ties to her. The gift isn’t really for her other mom, but rather a gift of sharing our love. A token to Lucy to show that even in the hardest moments of life we can suck up our bitterness and find grace.

…I pondered why I felt so inclined to doing this for them? It’s the first thing I don’t want to do.  I want so passionately to be ugly and hateful–handing out my internal rage as if it were a party favor…yet I don’t.  And it hit me, most of life is doing the things we don’t want to do, to gain the ultimate result. I want to create an environment worth living in – which sometimes (a lot of times) means struggling through the rough things to ultimately reach that goal.  Are my ugly feelings real?

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

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Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


Or in the depths of winter, is it then, that our souls begin to live, so that we can… enjoy? Summer.