i have 12 weeks til this baby comes. It may be an ENFJ thing, but I get inspired to start a project, and somewhere get distracted and set the project aside. I love it when things are finished, but sometimes going the last mile is slow in happening. So, I am committing here in the public arena- NO NEW PROJECTS! I have so much to finish, there will not be enough time before baby comes, but I can hope.
Here are projects that I have started and not finished . . . yet:
timeline notebook with boys
medical bills binder
file system for next year homeschooling
close out accounts from homeschool group
begin accounts for next year homeschool group
knitted washcloth
knitted tshirt bath rug
knitted baby poncho
maternity shirt
research paper
superhero puppets
This is just what I remember off the top of my head. There are more, I am sure that i have forgotten. I will add them as a remember and cross off the completed ones.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
God as air
For my agnostic, atheist friends,
We have sat up late together. Over mugs of hot steaming tea or chilled glasses of wine. On a front porch in the Romanian summer heat. On cushy couches while winter played outside.
You say you don't know. You just can't believe. You don't see how God makes sense.
I say, that's alright. You don't have to believe for God to be. Your yes does not create Him. He exists with or without you.
As this conversation has spiraled and turned around on itself and come out all in knots, you have been breathing. That air you breathe is all around you and in you and through you and you don't ever have to choose to let it in. When you aren't thinking about it or acknowledging it, it still feeds you and keeps you and gives you life.
You don't see air. You don't contemplate its existence. Until you are kept from it. Until you can't have enough of it. Until it is contaminated. Until its strength does something you didn't expect.
But it doesn't depend on you. It is there for you, but not because of you.
Just breathe.
We have sat up late together. Over mugs of hot steaming tea or chilled glasses of wine. On a front porch in the Romanian summer heat. On cushy couches while winter played outside.
You say you don't know. You just can't believe. You don't see how God makes sense.
I say, that's alright. You don't have to believe for God to be. Your yes does not create Him. He exists with or without you.
As this conversation has spiraled and turned around on itself and come out all in knots, you have been breathing. That air you breathe is all around you and in you and through you and you don't ever have to choose to let it in. When you aren't thinking about it or acknowledging it, it still feeds you and keeps you and gives you life.
You don't see air. You don't contemplate its existence. Until you are kept from it. Until you can't have enough of it. Until it is contaminated. Until its strength does something you didn't expect.
But it doesn't depend on you. It is there for you, but not because of you.
Just breathe.
Friday, March 1, 2013
A reason to write again- my daughter
Yesterday we saw you and for the first time knew you are a girl.
Light and dark, shapes and lines,
bits of you came to the screen.
Gasps, shaking heads, silly grins
and two proud brothers,
who knew the whole time.
New adventure awaits us:
pinks and purples
giggles and squeals
late night talks
early morning feedings.
I am here for you, girl-child.
I am here to shine a light on the path I have taken
leading me to be a woman.
You will have to walk your path,
finding strength, purpose and dignity along the way.
I promise to pour into you all the love I can, to fill you up with hope and faith.
To walk with you in laughter, tears and silence.
Light and dark, shapes and lines,
bits of you came to the screen.
Gasps, shaking heads, silly grins
and two proud brothers,
who knew the whole time.
New adventure awaits us:
pinks and purples
giggles and squeals
late night talks
early morning feedings.
I am here for you, girl-child.
I am here to shine a light on the path I have taken
leading me to be a woman.
You will have to walk your path,
finding strength, purpose and dignity along the way.
I promise to pour into you all the love I can, to fill you up with hope and faith.
To walk with you in laughter, tears and silence.
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