Jumping in

It’s far too labor intensive for me to catch up or try to fill in the gaps, so I’m just going to jump in, when and where I can.

Daylight Savings Time ends today and it causes me grief. Do we not have access to electricity? Why do we need to continue this archaic tradition?

And I’m out!



Almost a year has gone by since I’ve been here. Eleven months, not even a whole year, and my whole world is a different place. A very unfamiliar place. I feel like I’m in some else’s life. Not to take away from the joy and blessing of my sweet babies, but I am very lost. I know I will get my “sea legs” and life will be more steady then, but for now it’s very turbulent. So much has happened and it seems like I was barely a part of it. I am watching my life happen and not participating. Maybe this is why God allowed our long-term memory not to develop until we are a little older.  So that my babies will not be permanently damaged… yet.  But Emma.  She’s going to have a lot of fodder for her therapist.

I feel like I need this space right now.  This place to muse and ponder.  I need to get the muddling out of my brain and put it somewhere I can examine it.  Most will be unclear, but maybe as I wade through it I’ll be able to collect the pieces and put myself together again.

This all sounds so much more morose than I intend… intentions…. now there is another bomb shell for another day, until then, this has been a good start.


I’ve learned many a lesson in the midst of all my child-bearing/inability to bear children.  I WANT CONTROL.  I want control so bad my mind reaches a state of utter chaos when I perceive that I am out of control.  Because I know, in some far reach of my brain that I am not in control.  I know that, every God fearing believer knows that.  But I don’t live that.  Not hardly.

This is none so clear as in my life with children.  When I was fairly uninterested in having children and taking precautions against pregnancy, I conceived a beautiful baby girl.  My response was terror.  This wasn’t my plan.  This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

Two years later, my hearts desire was to conceive another child.  It didn’t happen, after months and years it didn’t happen.  Again I responded with terror.  This wasn’t MY plan, This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

So I changed MY plans, we would adopt.  We went through the whole messy business and right there, I get pregnant.  Terror, this wasn’t my plan, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

I have given up planning but I still want some control and God is prying my fingers from that need one finger at a time.

Because I have conceived again, and well, I’m responding with a bit of terror.  This wasn’t my plan.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  But I rejoice that despite my lack of faith and trust God continues to bless us.


“You keep using that word.  I do not think it means what you think it means.”

No matter how I fight it, it’s happening!

Meet Davies baby #3, coming Feb. 2010.


Wax Philosophical

Emma has been listening to the soundtrack of “Wicked” quite a bit lately.  We were fortunate enough to get to go see the show a little while back.  Emma loved it!  In the car today we were listening to the song, “Thank Goodness.”  In it the lyrics say, “Happy is what happens when all your dreams come true.”  From the back seat Emma pipes up, “that’s not true Mommy.”  Oh, really, why do you say that?  “Because all my dreams haven’t come true and I’m still happy.”  True contentment spoken of so simply.  She proceeded to ask me why the girl in the song said that and we had a long discussion about contentment, in which I learned a lot about what I believe and know and yet rarely live out.  Hmmm….


The last week of school Emma earned an award for achievement throughout the year.  We couldn’t be more proud.  IMG_1277


WAAAY back in May Emma had her first piano recital.  I was more nervous than she was.  She did wonderful and is enjoying piano more and more.  Even better is that she wants to carry on learning and values the experience as well.



IMG_1297But now I’m catching up.

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