New Life

Dear Babies.

I don't know what to call you just yet, my heart kind of flips every time I say or write 'twins' and since I don't know if you are boys or girls or one of each yet, I guess I will just call you my babies. Because that is what you are. My third and fourth babies, and though I didn't expect you to both come at the same time, in my heart I always knew I'd want both third and fourth babies, so now I just get to enjoy you at the same time.

So, my sweet sweet babies. Guess what? I just found out about you! And it was through quite a rollercoaster at that. See I knew I was pregnant with you #3, but last Saturday night I woke up bleeding and thought for sure I had lost you. I was so heart broken. I cried for you and I cried for Macy and Carter who are so excited about you. And I cried for your Daddy and I because getting to have each of you is always such a shakey and unsure road for us, every single time we wonder if we will ever be blessed with another child; and so the thought of losing you hurt to the core as all the doubts and worries of our family never, ever including a third or fourth baby sunk deep down. And then the doctor came in to tell us that not only were you still okay and safely growing in my tummy, but you had a #4 in there to keep you company!

I'm going to tell you the truth. My heart did a whole lot of flipping over the next couple of days. Oh I am so elated you are both okay! I am so thankful to the Lord for protecting you and on one hand I can not keep the smile off my face. But I will admit that I am also a little scared. I am a worrier and there is so much to worry about when having twins. I worry that carrying you will be hard and that you won't be okay when you come out. I worry that I won't be able to focus on either one of you to teach you such important skills like sleeping and eating and you will both suffer for it. I wonder if I will be able to enjoy you enough before you are grown or if I will drown in the midst of the craziness that will be your infancy amongst Macy and Carter's initial brink of childhood; I'm afraid I'll miss it all just trying to stay alive. I worry I won't be good at this, I worry that I am already not the kind of mom I want to be to two children so how much more disappointed in myself will I feel letting down four of you? I worry about how this family dynamic will shape each of you, my four precious children that I feel so fiercely protective of and responsible for. All of it scares me; and like I said, I won't lie and say I haven't been crying my eyes out these past couple days in a mix of emotions (and pregnancy hormones).

Oh but can I also just tell you how I get these waves of dizzying excitement at the thought of meeting you two at the same time and introducing you to our already established little family? What an amazing addition you will be! What a thrilling experience to get to see our family jump from 4 to 6 in an instant and what incredible multiplication of joy that must undoubtedly mean for every family memory from that point on. Macy and Carter are already beside themselves with love for you. They are already plotting how they will each get to take care of one of you, each have one to hold and be 'kind to'. They are quite ready for the task of big brother and sister. And as for you two. It is a rare and lucky thing to grow up as a twin. Or so I've heard, I don't even get the pleasure of knowing it's specialness completely; but you two will. You two will get to experience that special bond, I will get to watch you two know and be known by each other in a way I will probably be jealous of. Oh but I will be so grateful. I will be so glad.

So I just wanted to write this first letter to you, to tell you I am still processing what all this means; but tiny little glimpses of our lives together are starting to flash in my mind's eye and I am simply thrilled beyond belief to meet two whole new people; two brand new lives, tied solely to me and Ryan yet unique and fascinating in every way; in just 7 more months.

Here we go :)

Painfully Real

I know that this world is full of sin. I know that since the very beginning things have been messed up and distorted and so incredibly NOT the way God intended them to be. I KNOW that. But man if it doesn't feel like a gigantic sucker punch to the gut when reminded that all that destruction and pain lies right inside your tiny little world.

I don't know why I continue to cling to the notion that once a christian you are safe from the hurt and lies and total chaos of sin; okay maybe not totally safe, but perhaps like a mini force field is protecting you just a tad? Like we are not quite as susceptable to temptation as the rest of the vulnerable world. Latley I have been reminded a couple times over just how close to home sin can creep it's little claws and my heart has just been aching as I survey the aftermath.

If I can draw one itty bitty good from all the pain I've been witnessing, it's this slow and steady development of compassion in my own heart. Like little petals being peeled back I have noticed this protective layering I have hidden behind being torn away as I begin to truly understand that these 'horrific' committers of these 'unimaginable' sins are PEOPLE, just like me. They are caught up in something they never intended, they are victims of the fall and they no more woke up one morning thinking they were going to destroy all that was good and happy in their families and lives, than I woke up this morning deciding today would be a good day to puke my guts out. (Yeah, the flu has hit us hard, bluck!)

I just don't usually allow myself to acknowledge how possible it would be for me to fall victim to certain temptaions and sins that I find unbelievable and so 'out there'. I don't allow myself to see that the people caught up in such webs are not always monsters, but often just one stupid choice away from exactly like me. Like I said, lately I have not been given the option of squeezing my eyes quite so tightly shut and it has been good for me. Painful; but good.

Because it hasn't made me soft on the idea that these horribly hurtful and wrong choices are contrary to God's design and heart and plan for us. It hasn't made me question whether I should stop calling these certain things sinful and wrong and unacceptable. It just makes me realize I better stay waaay down off that high horse in thinking I'm not just as capable of falling just as far; in the blink of an eye. It makes me hurt for ALL people involved in messy sin. It makes me want to fall on my knees and beg Jesus to forgive us for making such a terrific mess of His creation and sacrifice. Latley my heart has been overflowing with compassion and grief; and as painful as it is... I guess it's probably alot closer to the state of Christ's heart than my pre - reality check, pride soaked one. So if there is something to be thankful for; I suppose it's that.

Always Trusts, Always Hopes

On the inside on my wedding ring there is a ridiculously cramped, tiny inscription with the words always trusts, always hopes. Ryan's ring (in much prettier, more legible script - because of the difference in widths) says always protects, always perseveres.

We chose these four words because they are at the end of the love chapter; and we, engaged and clearly experts in the art of love, knew just how important and key they would be in our marriage. For me to trust Ryan's leadership and remain hopeful despite any circumstances, for him to protect the health of our family and fight for it at all costs.

Oh, for the long lost wisdom of engagement.

*Incase you didn't pick up on the sheer irony of that statement let me assure you it was there. Because it doesn't matter that we actually were right back then; I could have been right all week long and twice on Sundays about marriage and spirituality and communication (infact I'm pretty sure in my mind I WAS); and it wouldn't change the fact that I simply HAD NO IDEA HOW HARD IT ALL WOULD BE.*

Well I was reminded of my tiny inscription this morning in our women's bible study as we convieniently studied L..O..V..E. Funny how in Jr High and highschool AND college, the 'love' series' we went through were always best attended and met with this silly inward giggle of hope and excitement and expectancy; like I was about to hear some secret code to a life of pure bliss and sugary sweets. Someone should have knocked me upside the head, "We're not talking about EROS people!" the bible barely addresses Eros, and even just 5 years into marriage, I can tell you point blank that love, is CLEARLY not just about Eros! ... but anyway...

As we again dove into the Love Chapter, I began to look at my ring and think about all the very obvious, purposeful, stubborn ways that I have been refusing to really love my husband anymore. And specifically even in the ways that at one time I felt so passionate and 'soap box-ish' about that I chose them to lay permanently pressed against my finger.

I have been failing to trust him. Not really as much in the ways and places he leads us, although that is often somewhere I poke and prod my ever so innocent opinions. But moreso in that I have slowly stopped trusting him with my insides, with my vulnerability, with my unplanned, unthought through rawness. I don't award him the credit that if I do not have my exact point and argument and 5 point list all prepared, he will still hear me and be soft towards me and stll allow me those feelings. If I do not clearly know what I am thinking or feeling (which let's face it, I hardly ever do) then I will be quiet and not tell him a thing about it. I don't trust him to be a part of my process anymore and so many things have suffered because of it.

And I have been failing to be hopeful. I have been failing miserably and not even noticing.

I am melancholy, I am sad, I am tired and frusterated and I have given up... at least he has every right to think I have. I give no indication that I believe our communiaction can get better again, I give no glimpse of understanding that this time of life, with small children around our ankles, might play into the difficulty and it is not that we, as a couple, are just hopelessly broken and beyond repair. I have resolved that things are hard and my attitude is to suck it up and deal with it; you won't find the sparkling eyes of anticipation at our house unless you look at our wedding album. I promised 5 years ago that I would be the voice of hope and positivity in our marriage and I have not been. Not even close; I haven't even been trying.

I think I have lost my ability to be silly, which requires both trust and hopefullness. I reserve my silliness for my children and then effectively turn it off and hand the responsability over to my husband the minute he gets home from work. It's now his turn to be silly with them and I need to finally be serious. What a fun home he must live in.

So here I am this afternoon, feeling like a little bit of fog has lifted from my eyes and knowing some of the steps I must take to begin re-living my vows. I am going to try, I will purpose to move forward with this conviction and clarity. But, this... this is hard friends, so much harder than I could have ever guessed. Because I can write this all, I can think it and say it to friends, but I feel like the claws of habit have sunk deep deep down and have this grasp I can't really get out of. Why, when he walks in the door can it feel like a touch of softness towards him, if not returned, just might actually rob me of my last breath of air?

ONWARD.

Daylight Savings... Friend or Foe?

I love 8 o'clock. Lately it has been a really fun time for me. It used to be that I watched and waited and begged for 7 o'clock (bedtime) and then when the kids were finally in bed, the rest of the night just kinda slipped away in a state of relaxation, recovery and avoidance of actually going to bed myself because that meant defeat. It meant the next time I would be conscience again the craziness would have started all over and it would be twleve or so more hours before the next 7pm!
Well, I still anxiously await the beloved 7pm, but things have changed sightly in the MacDiarmid routine. You see, I love summer dearly, even in 100 degree heat, it's still my favorite time of year. But along with warm weather and swimming and frappacinos, summer also brings something else into our lives; more daylight. which means 7:00pm might as well be noon when your considering how light it is outside. This is a very confusing concept for my inquisitive two year old who makes a point to note whether the sun or the moon is up every single time we're on a car ride and then adds to her observation the conclusion "That means it's nighttime" (or daytime...you get the idea). Anyway, 7 o'clock was no longer translating as sleepytime.
We decided this was somewhat fair since most parents I tell that my kids go to bed at 7 look at me like Im Hitler anyway. But Ryan and I simply were not willing to part with our glorious alone time that begun promptly at 7 each night and allowed us to regroup, look at eachother and actually TALK...
Thus was birthed, a new plan! Macy now gets all ready for bed at the same time but when Carter goes down she just has her quiet time. She stays on her bed but she can read books or play with a toy quietly or sing (one of her favorites...)for the next hour as long as she doesnt get out of bed. Then at 8 Ryan or I go in and do our little night routine, turn out the light and it's off to dreamland!
This has been WONDERFUL! Macy thinks it's a special treat cuz she's up later than Carter, and I have enjoyed the "tucking her in" time soooo much more lately I actually WANT to be the one to go in at 8. At 7 I was rushing through, but that hour gives me just enough time to unwind and enjoy the silence, by 8 I am always in the best mood! I am so up for snuggling and singing and praying and breathing in these precious moments with my baby girl that I know will be gone too quickly.
Sooo.. in conclusion, 8 o'clock has now become my favorite time of day, and daylight savings is no longer my enemy.

Sparkle

I just got home from a bridal shower. It was for a girl that I had the pleasure of kind of 'big sistering' through her high school and some college years and it was neat to sit back and watch her as she embraced her new role as 'bride' and soon to be 'wife'.
It's funny to me that this particular night and this particular shower seems to have really drawn some deep waters up in me. I have been around alot of soon to be brides and showers etc in the past five years since it was my turn at the magical merry go round of presents and plans and smiles and bliss and dreams and optomism. My sister in law is even engaged and wedding planning as we speak. But being here tonight affected me deeply and I don't really know why.
The shower was 'Kitchen' themed and to go with it we each brought one food recipe and one 'Recipe for Life' sharing advice for the couple about marriage. Whew. Since my relationship with this girl has pretty much centered around advice and imparting wisdom and 'going before' her in this life to then look back and offer a hand up... I really wanted to offer some encouraging, thrilling, fool proof nuggets for her to keep and cling to. But as I sat and thought I knew, just knew that everything and anything I could possibly truthfully offer her of what I've found to be true of marriage and actually practically helpful 5 years in, she at this moment, sitting in that chair with her beaming smile and giggly tapping toes, will not think she needs or already think she knows it. I know because I did too. I actually don't remember a ton of 'advice' people handed to me when I was engaged, probably for that very reason that at the time I was receiving it I did not view it as advice but rather 'obvious' information that my fiance and I had already discussed, dealt with and perfected. We were good to go and I was too busy telling everybody how incredibly amazing we worked together to hear much of anything else.
So tonight, as I listened to the stories and watched her eyes sparkle in anticipation of all that was to come for her and her love, I felt so many heart heavy emotions bubbling up. I didn't really feel the need to warn her of all the practicalities and realities that come with the hum drum of everyday life, instead I kind of felt like grabbing some of that sparkle from her eyes (don't worry, she had plently to share) and putting it back into my tired ones. And as I watched her nod in somber agreement at the marriage advice she won't remember, I actually tuned in for myself. Cuz 5 years in; I have to be wise enough to admit the sparkle dust has settled a little around my eyes and it's made me see that some of these women who've been married 20,25,30,50 years... they got some stories to tell and some wisdom to drink in.
Maybe we should all have 5 yr anniversary bridal showers... they might be a whole lot more affective.

Steady

Every Sunday lately I have found myself moved by something our pastor says in his sermon or something in the words we happen to worship to that morning. I guess that says some good things about the church we're at.
I often intend to write on the things I feel the Holy Spirit impressing on me in that moment, but the quietness of that hour and a half vanishes with the chattering crowds just outside the double doors of the sanctuary. And it carries with it the strength of the conviction I felt just moments ago. This past week though, I was moved a second time by the same words as the week before, and so before we hit Wed. I am going to sit and think on them... thanks for joining.
We sang a grouping of choruses lumped into one song during worship. One part stated over and over "Lord, I wanna yearn for You, I wanna burn with passion over You, Only You." As I was singing this part of the song I was having a really hard time. These words are so true in my heart, I desperatley long to yearn for the Lord. I remember the days when I felt pure passion and motivation to go and be and do all for the Lord. I was truly enamored by Him, knowing Him, being with Him, just HIM. I know what life driven by that is like and I thirst for it. But as I was singing that morning I was coming before the Lord wondering honestly if I was asking something unrealistic. I have come to believe, whether true or not, that there are times of passion in life and times of mundane obedience and duty. I don't know if Ive been sold a lie or not. I guess I have begun to see our walks with the Lord as a wooing of children. Maybe when we were younger and more fragile; as I most definitely was in my first college years, maybe the Lord wooed me more with emotion, maybe I felt those passions and yearnings so tangibly because that was a phase of my walk I was to go through at that time...Christ sought me, won me, assured my heart and soul of His truths and goodness and received my absolute dedication. But now we have moved on from that, the Lord and I...and I am here in a place of calmed down...normalcy? A more relaxed, level headed version of myself? Time to buck up and walk this thing.
I don't mean to sound discouraged, or maybe I do, I don't really know. There is a part of me that misses the excitement of those days with the Lord, but the other side doesn't really believe it's fair or neccessary to expect them to have continued forever, because this life with the Lord is not about me or how great it feels to be a believer. And so went my wandering mind while my lips continued on...
But then the next chorus in this medley we sang rang out, "And I wanna be found faithful, I wanna be found steady, I wanna be found worthy, worthy for you." It's the steady part that got me. As I reflect on it right now I guess I'm not as wounded by the word 'steady' as I was in the moment. But at the time it really jabbed me. I felt like the conversation I was having with the Lord explaining all the reasons why I just "wasn't as excited as I have been in the past, and how that's okay" was brought to a harsh hault as I recited over and over to my Jesus that I want to be found STEADY. Like I said, right now Im feeling that means more of what I actually was talking about, holding steady with my walk and dedication despite the waning emotions and excitement. But that morning, man, that morning... and then again the following sunday, that word just hurt. Saying it literally ached in my heart, as though I have not been steady. I have not been true and firm and steadfast for my Lord. I have weakend and compromised and explained away my true Love. I have traded a love story for an acceptance of truth, reckless abandonment for duty and relatability. Instead of meeting with Him, I talk about Him and learn about Him and do things for Him.
See, my problem is that the alternative isn't even wrong or bad... but that sunday morning, I felt clearly convicted that I ought to be steady in my passion for the Lord. Thing is, I can't get anything but emotional passion to FEEL passionate.
Any thoughts out there?

Knocked Up

So here's my deal with the movie Knocked Up.

I've heard alot of reviews about it now and thoughts from friends and I've been really surprised by the reaction. Because I expected to like it and to laugh alot. I expected to have to defend the fact that as a 'christian' I found such a 'controversial' topic to be so funny and enjoyable. So I was all ready for that...

What I wasn't ready for was the fact that I didn't like it, and I didn't think it was that great of a movie. I actually was pretty disapointed because I think Katherine Heigel is an extremely talented actress and comedian. So I was so bummed to find alot of the timing off and the jokes so... easy, so obvious. I guess I'm just a fan of alot more clever humor. My drama teacher and director in high school had a big policy he pushed. It had nothing to do with rules of 'appropriatness', he didn't really care how 'taboo' it got, as long as it was smart and not just going for the easy laugh. I felt like alot of the script could be reduced to Jr. High boys taking turns screaming out the word 'penis!' while rolling on the floor in histerics because they are just so dang funny.

Now, I did enjoy and laugh VERY hard at certain points. I thought the story line of the sister and brother-in-law's marriage etc was witty and... true :-) and I thought the co-worker at the TV studio was flat out hilarious. So it's not like I hated it and didn't have some really good laughs, they were just spotty. And they were interupted by awkwardness and frusteration at the forced, obvious, for lack of a better word, bathroom humor, that it feels like they used to ensure a shock value and laugh from an audience they don't consider clever enough to catch on to anything but blatant dirty words, jokes and gestures.

Anyway, all to say, I feel like if I tell people I didn't really enjoy the movie, they will automatically assume it is because I am playing some sort of 'christian' card and I was just offended by the content. Sometimes I feel like our gneration is moving so much in the direction of this emerging thought, this mind set that it is all about Jesus and following Him and not judging or getting caught up in the pharasitical rules of 'right and wrong', that we turn off our brains and embrace anything and everything, just to prove that WE are not the kind of christians that can't have fun and enjoy a good joke.

I'm not saying everyone who liked this movie is saying that for those reasons, I'm just surprised at my own hesitancy to admit that I didn't...seems some things have flipped a 180. When I was in my 'God Squad' youth group in High School, we were careful not to admit that we watched and loved and quoted Billy Madison and 90210 (Im blanking on examples), now I feel a slight pressure to say I DID like a movie that in actually, I thought was pretty poor comedically, just so I don't appear too 'high and mighty'.

Just some food for thought.

*** Kudos to the maternity fashion though! You're right on Melis :-)