Thursday, October 20, 2016

Fee 18 months

 since I've blogged, never mind a whole post dedicated to Fee. Here are a few photos from a couple days of trying to capture this spunky, sweet girl. I keep thinking I love her so much, there's just no more for more. And then, there's more. Here's Fee at 18 months in photos & random little bits about her I don't want to forget. 
She's a quick, active little thing. Her little sprouty pigtails fit her perfectly. After a nap, they sprout even more, like little bug antennas. So sometimes I call her "Bug". Sometimes "little stinker" is more fitting. Mostly she's Feezy Wheezy. She even calls herself "Feezy". 

 She's pretty opinionated. And quick to lash out. But she's just as quick to offer a kiss & tight squeeze of forgiveness. She says, "Please," & "thank you," & "bless you, mommy" when I sneeze.
 Anytime we get in the car, we are going to "Grammy's house". I love that she calls Dar's mom "grammy," just like he called his dad's mom, "Grammy".
 She looks nothing like I did as a toddler, & lots more like her Uncle Riley.
 She has a thing for apples. And my ratty blankie from childhood. Our night time routine is tucking her in bed with the blankie, a bottle filled with water, & a prayer. She is easy to get to sleep, but wakes up usually once a night for a bottle refill (if you would've told me when she was born that I would still be getting up at night a year and a half later, I would've cried). "Eggies & bacon" are her favorite breakfast, & she'll eat a whole one of each. Even though she's just 19#2oz, which puts her in the 8th percentile for weight.
 She is small but mighty. If she could pick her outfit everyday, it would be her favorite owl shirt with rainboots & her coat.

 She takes just one nap a day now, & I find myself so excited for her to go down for it, & just as excited for her to wake up from it. She's my kitchen sidekick & knows which cupboard the snacks are in. There is little that makes her more pleased than to "help mom": I let her set the silverware & throw trash away & put shirts in her drawer.
She is my favorite Feezy Wheezy. I'm not sure what I did before she came along, but I am so glad she's here, challenging me daily, watching my every move, & loving me wholeheartedly.

Monday, October 3, 2016


Home. A word that is so complex & full. I’ve been thinking a lot about home lately. Not least because we just made it “home” for an extended, glorious, harvest stay. It was just lovely. My favorite trip home yet. It’s so hard to live away from family. Yet, I know I’m where I’m supposed to be. Here in Oregon, I’ve had the most sense of belonging I’ve had in my life. I always blamed the itchy feet on a sense of wanderlust passed down from my forefathers. I never quite felt like I had roots in any of the places I’ve lived. A new place always beckoned just over the horizon. until now. Oregon feels like home. (All photos are from our recent trip to IL with the friends & family we love so dearly.) 

 It would be hard for me to leave it. Not that I never would, or never will, not if God calls us elsewhere. But it has become home to me. I feel guilty sometimes that I feel more home here than in my childhood state. Or than in the place where my family originated. Or away from my own family. What’s wrong with me, I wonder, sometimes. It’s not that I never get homesick for my family, or quilt-square comfortable miles of cornfields, or the woods & creeks that were my childhood. I do. But I can’t go back there either, not to what I remember anyway. Life hasn’t stopped for them either. Trees have fallen, babies have been born, friends have moved, my old bedroom has a new coat of paint. I would return only to find my spot has been filled. And that is okay. There are times I just don’t know if I can bear it, to be missing out on all the little life events, the growingups of my precious nieces & nephews, the subtle everyday life happenings that end up being the most treasured memories.

When those feelings of homesickness overwhelm me, when the 2,000 miles feels like an impossible barrier, I find comfort in another home. Our real home. The one we are all waiting for. The one where distance is nonexistent, where separation is no more. Where time is forgotten & those we love will all be there, at our fingertips, by our sides. Forever. I won’t be living two places at once. My heart won’t be scattered across this country anymore, little pieces left wherever I loved & lived. It will be whole again & fuller than I can imagine. Heaven. Our true home. The home we were made for.