Any Similar Revival

Here is what has been happening while I’ve been on Blogcation!

My cousin Taylor’s head morphed into a watermelon. I know, weird.

Chad and Jordan had a bubble blowing contest with the gum from the little kids’ pinata:

Emma looked adorable in my hat:

My tomato plant produced!

Chad and I went to Blossom to hear Carmina Burana.  Note to self: next time, take a box of tissues to HURL AT THE PERSON BEHIND ME SNARFING AND SNIFFLING THE WHOLE TIME. Sheesh, if you’re that sick, just stay home! Don’t inflict your snotty nastiness on innocent concert goers. I have some noise issues. I know it. I’m a hater.

I wore goofy hats and made dumb faces on the Fourth of July:

And, we turned in our foster-adoptive parent application on Tuesday! They called today–they can start our home study process in August, they hope. YAY!

I might still be on Blogcation. You’ll know.

Yeah, so as we were standing around on Luke & Hannah’s deck last night to watch fireworks, all bundled up in jackets and long pants, I was thinking, “It doesn’t FEEL like the Fourth of July!” And you’re all saying, “Yeah, dummy, because it was still the THIRD,” but you know what I mean. Cold and jackets and wearing closed-toe shoes do NOT belong in July.

Luke and their nephew Jordan, watching the ‘works.

Earlier this week, when it was still hot and summer-like, I met my favorite little family for a picnic at Hinckley. I brought Myles and Kristen brought Hazel, and the sad truth is that Myles doesn’t like Hazel. At ALL. He likes other dogs, and he gets along just fine with dogs we meet on walks, and his girlfriend Rory. But Hazel tries to eat his face and jump on him, and he can’t stand it. He actually growls and snarls, and poor Hazel, she just can’t take the hint! So other than having to protect Myles from Hazel’s lovelorn ways, it was a great time!

Kristen thinks Emma looks like an 80’s rock star with her outfit. I think she looks like an 80’s rock star with a chocolate addiction–check out her teeth! I brought them Pockys for dessert.

I don’t want to feel guilty about not posting every day, or even every few days. I feel guilty enough in other areas of my life, thank you very much. And nobody has been on me about it, or anything, I just feel the need to say that I’m going to be a Lazy Blogger this summer. That said, here are some Fotoes from the last week or so.

Another cute Leah pic:

Pretty pretty!

From our walk at Hubbard Valley Park:

Dirty Luke, after powerwashing their walkway:

Family stamping day:

The Dangerous Chocolate Cake Laurel Made:

What We Thought of It:

Yesterday, I accomplished everything on my to-do list, including making hummus and dropping off the dry cleaning. I feel so proud that I probably won’t feel the need to do anything else all week, and that is not good.

My garden is making me so happy I can hardly stand it. I just gaze at it in adoration. SIGH. THIS is what I’m longing for in February and March. And it is here right now, and I can’t stop time and keep it forever.

She is gorgeous, this one.

Today, Kristen, the girls, and I took Heidi out on a Surprise Outing for her birthday, which is Friday. First, we stopped at Payless to get Emma some ballet slippers, since today was also her first dance lesson. Needless to say, I found some shoes too (two pairs for $10!!! AND they're cute! And, Heidi and Kristen, the CHOCOLATE came out of the one pair, so there!) Next, we took our starving selves and grumpy Olivia to the Cheesecake Factory up at Crocker Park. Yum. And yum. And YUM! And then, as the grande finale, we went to Trader Joe's and wandered every aisle at least twice, and I managed to spend yet MORE money. It was a very good day.

And we can't forget photos of the wittle ballawina:

So, I've been pilfering my cousin Luke's Picasa account. I can't help it. Aidan is just WAY too cute!

(Photos by Luke & Willow, photoshopped by me)

Oh the bubbles! The bubbles are so adorable!

Look at these hotties!

I can't wait to meet him in person.

Sooooo. . . . I haven't been around much, huh? Yeah, well, I haven't had anything interesting happen in a while. But here's what I got.

We went to a picnic last weekend for our foster/adoption preservice training class. Here is Chad, swimming:

One of the couples in our class already has a placement! We were encouraged by this quick working of the system, and came home determined to finish our paperwork and get this ball rolling. Chad has one more class, we have to get a fire inspection, and I have to go to the dr to get the medical form signed. Then we can turn it in and wait for the next part: homestudy.

Heidi and I went to the farmer's market in Peninsula again on Saturday. Here is her haul (along with my jelly):

Had fun with the girls at the playground yesterday.

 Speaking of Jelly, to all of you who want me to teach you how to make it: I have the next two weeks off.

Give me a call.  🙂

I've been preoccupied with strawberries all week.

Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.    Psalm 116:15

The righteous perish, and no one ponders it in his heart;

devout men are taken away, and no one understands

that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil.

Those who walk uprightly enter into peace;

they find rest as they lie in death.   Isaiah 57:1-2

Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord's own word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever.  I Thessalonians 4:13–18

Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed–in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come try:  "Death has been swallowed up in victory."

"Where, O death, is your victory?

Where, O death, is your sting?"

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.  I Corinthians 15:51–57

For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.  Philippians 1:21

Ten years ago today was a very dark day. We were told that my mother, fighting against leukemia, was not going to make it home to die. I raged in the driveway as I waited for Heidi to come pick me up to take me to the Cleveland Clinic. I paced back and forth and cried and kicked things and vowed that I would hate Tuesdays and I would hate June 9th for the rest of my life. Looming before me was a thick blackness, a choking smog of grief, and I was so afraid of it. I was terrified of that dark place. My mom didn't die until the next morning, the 10th, but I had already spent all my scorn and despair on the 9th. Tomorrow's post is going to be about joy. About my mother's life, her death, and her eternal life that she is enjoying now. But today, I need to look back into that place. I am in the place that I wanted desperately to be ten years ago. A decade away from the darkness, I hoped that the balm of time would take the edge off the pain, and I wanted to skip all of the work involved and fast-forward to now.

So, Allyson, how are things ten years later?

Well, my mom is still dead. It's not like we just have to make it through a little while and then we get her back for good behavior. She's still gone, and instead of having seen her just yesterday, I haven't seen her for ten long years. I haven't heard her voice or smelled her smell or touched her hands. So in that respect it's worse. It's been longer since I've seen her, so I miss her more. That dark, suffocating abyss is not so close anymore, not so imminent. I see it out there in the distance, looking behind me over my shoulder. I've gone through that terrible place, and by the grace of God, who carried me through, it is behind me. This is not to say, however, that sometimes grief does not sneak up on me, knock me over from behind and try to strangle the breath out of me. That happens a lot, actually, and it's triggered by the weirdest things. Baby bean plants, up from seeds I planted a week ago, like a magic trick, a something from nothing–that killed me yesterday, I don't know why. Things get tangled up together in my mind, and connections form that don't seem to make sense. I cried all through the service yesterday at church. I was just broken open, like a melon.

Cleaning out the basement last week, I found this poem I wrote for a creative writing class in college while my mom was sick. At the time, we still hoped she would recover, so it is poignant for that reason alone. Reading it took my breath away–it's intense. I'm not claiming that it is a fantastic poem. In fact, my professor wrote: "Maybe you should revisit this when you're not so close to the situation," probably meaning that it was pretty bad. Well, so it is, but it captured that time so perfectly, and I want to post it here. Warning;  Intensity alert. I just need people to read this.

Leukemia: a Sestina

Waiting for the time to pass, the woman watches blood

drip into her body as she lies twisted in the bed.

And her eyes say, "Let me live or die,

because what I'm doing now is neither

Life nor Death, but only pain and fear."

And all of us together pray, "Yes, let her live."

People have brought her flowers, living

reminders of a time before her blood

snagged us up in a net of fear

and chained her weeping to an adjustable bed.

But she deosn't want cut flowers, that neither

grow nor thrive, but slowly softly die.

For she has no intention to slowly, softly die.

No hothouse dainty, she clutches her life

with teeth and nails. She will neigher

wilt nor tremble for the poison bleeding

through her veins. Pale and yellow in the bed,

she tosses dry flowers out with her fear.

I watch the man who loves her, I watch him, fearful

but breaking with every tender smile into hope. Die?

She? Die? No, not here, not here in this single bed

with rumpled sheets and unwashed hair. Life

surges within him and he will share it all, bleed

into her soul his very essence, that neither

pain nor death can sully. Weeping neither

then nor now, his desert eyes mask doubt and fear,

while he watches humbling compassion, stranger's blood,

do what he cannot. With city daylight dying

through the slatted blinds, he worries about life

crowded with endless nights in single beds.

She, swollen and pink, a bloated raisin, bedded

and waiting, breathes and mumbles. She can neither

assure nor comfort us, we who plead for one yet living.

We wait.  We breathe. We mumble against our fears,

chanting our hopes, our prayers, our litanies against dying.

And always in the background, the dripping of blood,

the pulsing of hospital beds, the metallic taste of fear,

the hope that neither triumphs nor dies,

and we, the living, who watch her bleed.

I was just this kid, this 22-year-old kid to whom nothing bad had ever really happened, and I thought, that because I was me, she wouldn't die. I was wrong. Being me made no difference, and it took me many years to realize at last that her illness and death was not actually about me. I know, how dense could I be?

Today, on this day I vowed I would hate for the rest of my life, I have mixed feelings. I remember that frantic girl in the driveway, and I can conjure up those emotions any time I want. (i don't want). But I can also wander around my garden, watering my baby plants, touching my silken pink roses climbing up the chimney, brushing my hands against the sage, whose fragrance gives me joy and hope, and I can smile, and cry and find much joy. So ten years later is ok. I'm still crying. I'm still missing her so much that I can't stand it. But those magic beans, those roses, the songs we sang at church, and the friends who hold me up–these things make it ok.

And it's not going to be forever, you know? Just until it's my turn to go further up and further in.

Chad's oldest brother, Kirk, has been travelling all over the country to interview for a worship leader position. He and Missy spent this past weekend in Pittsburgh checking out a church south of the city. Chad and I ddi the math and decided that we might not be this close in proximity again for a long time (I haven't seen them in about 2.5 years!). So we drove out yesterday to meet them for dinner.

I'd forgotten how much fun they are!

brothers:

sisters:

We love you two! And we are hoping and praying that you get the job in Pittsburgh—imagine all the fun we can have!!!

I've been frustrated lately with my lazy attitude about cycling. I just can't get myself to do it–I have a bazillion excuses–it's too hot, it's too cold, it's too windy, I don't want to have to take another shower, I don't have enough time, I don't feel up to it, I still don't have my cycle-computer hooked up, I'm "afraid" of getting hit by a car, I don't want to start something I can't finish, and so on and so on. Today, I just decided to go, so I went. Frabjous, as usual, and a beautiful day to boot. Stinkin' hot, but beautiful. Here is my shiny, dorky face, all happy about riding. I detect an unfortunate resemblance to my brother, as well.

Could the sky BE bluer?

I loved this field and this barn. I want to live here. party barn, party barn, party barn. . .

And look at this irresistable cuteness. Sleeping with kitties is ALWAYS the way to go: