Thursday, December 30, 2010
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
it happened. . . as I sat there at the table decorated with faux gifts, tinsel and candy, watching him stand with a good measure of patience mixed with the expected anticipation that comes for a child waiting to see Santa. He would occasionally glance around to make sure I was still where he left me, then smile and look expectantly up at his big sister, clap his hands, do a little bounce then shuffle his feet forward a foot or two as the line moved. Independent in so many ways, too many ways for me this night - Growing up.
it happens . . . every night he falls asleep and I watch as his expression relaxes and his body falls into the rhythm of sleep. all the passion and energy that sometimes make being his mom so challenging, succumbs to that quiet peace that sleep affords. But I know that beneath those closed lids are dreams filled with all the punch and ardor that fill his waking hours. His face loses a little more of that soft baby roundness and when he wakes up each morning I notice more and more straight and defined features of a growing boy. . . the baby is almost entirely gone.
it's happening . . . right in front of my nose, over every breakfast bowl and during every conversation, amidst every passing rite for one so young. Don't those seem to present themselves much earlier than you remember from your own childhood? I try to slow her down, but most often that fails and I find myself trying to harness and guide her steps on a path that will help her find a healthy independence grounded in kindness, fairness and love. Sometimes I fail and try too hard to impose me on her, but more often than not she is much too strong for that. she is smart, very smart. she is kind and thoughtful, but still very consumed by defining who she is, what she thinks and expressing how she feels. . . every moment of every waking hour. but the exhaustion I feel is only testament to her flourshing personality and destiny which is shaping itself with definitiveness every minute . . . the baby entirely gone, the young lady on the way.
Sometimes "their all grown up" manifests itself in such subtle, imperceptive ways. Other times it happens in big colorful moments that take your breath away. I guess it's my job to notice and cherish them all, hold them carefully in my heart and prepare myself for all the next time's they they happen!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Posted by shawna at 12:03 AM
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
I think I am pretty sure that I am glad I didn't witness the flames burning literally 50 yards from my home (the house you can see on the left). This is a picture of our neighbor's home across the street . . . or what is left of it. The wind shifted just as the fire jumped the road above our street (which is to the left of the image shown) The shift of wind resulted in the fire jumping 50 feet and igniting the property across the street from us. Miraculously the empty house at the top of the hill (only framing and exterior wood panels) escaped with only minor scorch marks. If the wind had kept blowing from the direction it was roaring down the mountain it would have ignited that house and the wind would have blown the hot flames downward, engulfing each of our homes in a domino like fashion.
in this picture you can see how close it really was. The house circled in red at the top is a a vacant house. . . wood exposed. In all reality it should have burned, in turn catching the rest of the homes on our side of the street on fire. The wind was blowing strongly from the direct south. But just as the fire jumped the road above us (a 50 foot jump) the wind shifted and came from the south west, pushing the flames into the area to the east of us. Our home is the one circled in red at the bottom. the view is even more sobering from my upstairs window. Charred earth so close to the home we practically built ourselves.
I am greatful for a grounded husband. . . who happens to be in Michigan right now. He called to ensure we were far from danger. . . I went to bed that night calm. . . resigned that I would be having to tell my children we didn't have anything left. But not sad so much for the loss of the house, more for the loss of the things that were more than just things to my littles. Chaino, Big Fat, blankies, brand new bunk beds. The house was just a house. . . I wasn't even that attached to it. . . and now that we had done it once we could easily do it again and even better.
I was amazed in the morning to see the helicopter shots of our street, our homes still there. I know that our prayers were answered. . . so many more homes could have been lost if the fire had followed the path it was going. I know the Lord sent a saving wind that night.
We are very saddened for our neighbor's loss. And are anxiously awaiting the time when they are ready to allow us to help them. . .for now they have requested to be allowed some time, unburdened by visitors and do-gooders. I can completely understand.
The winds are picking up again, and thus the smoke that causes the painful burn in the back of your throat and the sting in your eyes. While I know the fire has burned all it can around our home (creating a natural fire break), there are still mandatory evacuations in place for neighborhoods to our east and west. The fire fighters will continue to work miracles with the hand of God aiding them.
We are going to leave again. . .the smell is getting overpowering. Thank you so much for all the prayers in our behalf. The Lord heard them and answered them. As always.
Posted by shawna at 12:22 PM