tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24883379426059546352024-03-13T14:43:28.541-07:00A Short, Sweet SeasonMary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.comBlogger205125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-82516235909298299872014-07-09T20:55:00.001-07:002014-07-09T20:55:12.289-07:00Women & Their Work<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uk8b84GG9l8/U737ZFoJksI/AAAAAAAACUQ/sD7RlCi02Ho/s1600/earrings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uk8b84GG9l8/U737ZFoJksI/AAAAAAAACUQ/sD7RlCi02Ho/s1600/earrings.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in the earrings that started it all.</td></tr>
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I wasn't looking for another job last month when I learned about the <a href="http://www.noondaycollection.com/impact/where/ethiopia" target="_blank">Entoto Project</a> and <a href="http://www.noondaycollection.com/impact/who#b" target="_blank">Tesfanish</a>. I wasn't thinking about Ethiopia very much, and I didn't even know there were women who could spin sorrow into hope, devastation into genuine beauty. I went to a good friend's home for a Noonday trunk show in May, and all I wanted was a pair of gold earrings. I got so much more that night. </div>
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As the Noonday ambassador, Cynthia, spoke on behalf of the company and its' artisans, she lifted up ropes of gorgeous metal jewelry and said that it was made up upcycled artillery from past wars in Ethiopia. <em>Who knew you could take a weapon of war and burn it into a glistening bead? And then string that bead and a thousand others onto a line and feel the weight of artillery redeemed, death used for life, and display it on your neck as an emblem of hope? </em>I didn't.</div>
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As Cynthia and I talked that night and I held the Bethe Rope and beaded bracelets in my hands, I knew one thing to be true. Here was beauty out of ashes. Here was redemption, tangible and weighty, shining in the palm of my hand. My heart leapt, friends! I know about <a href="http://shortsweetseason.blogspot.com/2011/06/this-hurts-and-god-is-still-good.html" target="_blank">beauty from ashes</a>. How God can take a smoldering wick and fan it into a flame that could set an entire life ablaze. </div>
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Because I know that not having access to dignified and fair work can crush a person, I wanted to become an ambassador for Noonday, which means that I will stand up and tell the artisans' stories of hope and transformation and talent to other women and sell their jewelry in a market that will pay a fair and ethical wage to these artisans. I am thrilled to point you to the<a href="http://www.noondaycollection.com/impact/who" target="_blank"> impact section</a> of the Noonday website, where you can hear Tesfanish's bold and beautiful story. I plan on writing more about the Noonday Collection and what I'm learning about modern slavery and the way threads of redemption can be found in the darkest of places. </div>
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<em>If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk, and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness and your night will become like the noonday. Isaiah 58:10</em></div>
Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-77350989304476515582014-06-03T13:59:00.001-07:002014-06-03T13:59:09.136-07:00Unfading Beauty<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some beauty in our home.</td></tr>
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I have a beautiful neighbor who is about 80. She is petite and agile and she is not above crawling under our dining table to chase my toddler, if he chooses to hide from her when she comes to visit. She comes every early afternoon, right around 2. Sometimes, I am waiting for her, brewing a fresh pot of coffee and attempting to clear a path through the Legos and Hot Wheels and Cheerios scattered across our wood floors. Sometimes I am rushed and busy, and I hesitate to answer the door when I hear her distinctive knock, but I always answer. My beautiful neighbor has dementia, and though she is well-loved and lives with her attentive family, she has managed, in the fog of a fading reality, to carve a new pathway in her schedule, and it leads straight to our front door.<br />
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Every day, she points to William's shoes that sit on our front porch (and that's where they stay because MUD) and lays her hand on her chest. "Oh! What I would give to go back to these days with my boys." If the boys aren't napping, she will pick up a book and they come running. William sits on the arm of the chair and leans against her and Joshua lifts his arms to her and says, "Hold!" She points to the pictures on the pages and they spend long minutes discussing the characteristics of Thomas and Percy and Edward and who is nice and who is a naughty train, and then she hugs them and promises to come back tomorrow. She tells me daily to sit still and love my mess because before I know it, they'll be gone. <br />
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My neighbor also raised two sons, one of whom died of MS several years ago. She talks about them often. It seems mothering grows a strong and mighty oak in your reality, and though age and disease may break some of the boughs and prune the blooms from the highest branches, even the unforgiving hooks of dementia can't loosen its' roots from your memory. I don't know if I am much like her, but I do know she and I have something that has grounded our friendship. We both understand the value of recognizing the beauty that's around us. <br />
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And I do love my mess. And my wild and woolly boys. I haven't blogged in over a year. I've been having coffee with my neighbor, and raising my boys, and working with a group of women to talk about the Bible and God's glory and His character and what it means for us, and a whole slew of other things. But I have the desire to write about beauty and talk about it and hold onto it and I plan on writing about that here again, at least once a week. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some Legos to put away.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some more beauty in our home, though this one is not as refined.</td></tr>
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Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-24606086542794981182013-01-25T11:59:00.000-08:002013-01-25T12:04:44.324-08:00On the Power of Words & Being Vulnerable<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William and Me, 2010, at the very beginning of this journey of intentional mothering, when a careless word from another mom could send me over the deep end of self-doubt and uncertainty.</td></tr>
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My mom and I have spent long hours over the phone this week discussing and trying to figure out why people see things and say things the way they do. Do they know the effect they will have? Can't they see how the careless misuse of one word can have the power to change all the words said after it? I opened a letter from her today and what she wrote me made me catch my breath:<br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-size: large;">"But I say to you:</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Every time you meet another human being, you have an opportunity. It's a chance at holiness. For you will do one of two things, then. </span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Either you will <b>build her up</b>, or you will <b>tear her down</b>.</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Either you will acknowledge that she is, or you will make her sorry that she is -- sorry, at least, that she in then in front of you!</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-size: large;">You will create or you will destroy and the things you dignify are God's own property. They are made, each one of them, in His own image.</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-size: large;">And I say to you: <b>There are no useless, minor meetings</b>..."</span></i></div>
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<i>-Walter Wangerin, Jr.</i></div>
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<u>Ragman</u></div>
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I find myself needing some extra encouragement right now, and I have found so much wisdom and goodness and encouragement and wit and just fun in two online places that I so want to share with you, in case you don't know about them already:</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Ellen at <a href="http://thesweetwaterblog.com/" target="_blank">The Sweetwater Blog</a>, especially her <a href="http://thesweetwaterblog.com/category/abide-31-days-to-love-where-you-live/" target="_blank">31 Day Series on what it means to Abide</a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Edie at <a href="http://www.lifeingraceblog.com/" target="_blank">Life in Grace</a>, especially her <a href="http://www.lifeingraceblog.com/31-days/" target="_blank">31 Day Series on A Heart of Hospitality</a></span></div>
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These are women who know how to build up. Not with empty flattery or untrue tolerance, but with godly understanding and teaching from the heart. They are helping me change the ways I carry out my day, and I think you will love what they have to share with you.</div>
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This reaching out that we do as mothers (and friends, and bloggers, and sisters, etc.) is more about being vulnerable in the sharing of our own struggles and growth than it is about advising others on perfection.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joshua and Me, Christmas 2012, with a bit more mothering experience under my belt and standing on surer, grace-covered ground.</td></tr>
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Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-85981525912484725012012-11-19T21:11:00.000-08:002012-11-19T21:11:35.857-08:00Growing Pains<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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He is only 2, but he is almost grown.<br />
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I know this because of all the older mothers who tell me it's so. But I know it, too, because I can sense it happening.<br />
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In his chubby hands that grow larger each day, edged with peanut butter and bread crumbs. In his shrinking sleeves that bear the smudges of his colors and "marks", as he calls them.<br />
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Here in the middle of our day, right in the middle of him playing with his trucks and police cars and Legos, sometimes right in the middle of lunch, or breakfast, or story time, I tell him:<br />
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William, I need...<br />
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And before I can finish he looks up and puts his arms around my neck. "A biiiiiiig hug," he says, the words coming out in his clear and ringing voice. He has a slight southern drawl that still catches me by surprise.<br />
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When he hugs me, I close my eyes. I wrap him up as close as can be and I breathe in deep his toddler graces, his baby shampoo and windblown curls and strawberry breath. He is always lugging a toy, a book, a tractor, a balloon. He is never empty handed.<br />
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And then he is off.<br />
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He is so <i>fleeting</i>, and I can't get him to stay still. Or to stop growing. He keeps on getting bigger and taller and smarter and funnier and leaner and, even though he is only 2, he is practically 17.<br />
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He is racing me. This is why I pour into him. Because he is growing and needs filling and teaching and I am the one charged with this task. I am the one who teaches him daily, who shows him and models for him about demonstrating love to others, who teaches about beauty, and grace, and how we turn to God in all times and all things, from the way we greet our grandparents at the door to the way we speak to strangers. And it is hard work that I do for him, but I do it because I love him and I love Him and even though I know I fail daily, I am sticking with it.<br />
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It is no small thing, this raising up of a child. Especially the part about "in the ways that he should go." But I am doing it, and already I see in him a light that is growing.<br />
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My sweet bundle of energy and happy laughter, I am doing my best for you. Even when it's hard, especially when it's mundane. I am doing this for <i>you</i>.<br />
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<br />Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-85704769894188353282012-11-06T12:25:00.000-08:002012-11-06T12:25:41.292-08:00A Change of Seasons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Fall is here, subtle and transient, dropping temperatures on a whim for one or two days before vanishing altogether for weeks on end, and the afternoon sun climbs high and makes everyone sweat and wish we lived somewhere cooler. But I see the beauty in our prolonged summer, the strange bursts of color from shrubs and bushes that are blooming again in the same season, since the weather has allowed it.<br />
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Last week I took my little boys to Town Lake to show them evidence of the changing seasons. The foliage along the water's edge seems to change with greater intensity and vibrancy than what we see further inland. William collected handfuls of yellow leaves and fallen acorns, proof of fall's arrival.<br />
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I have always loved fall, but as a child I met the season with a bit of disappointment and longing. Our Texas autumn didn't look right to me; it wasn't like the fall I saw in story books, where trees looked as though they'd been set ablaze with color and frosty mornings led to Christmases draped in snow and icicles. I would stand underneath our old oak trees, close my eyes, and pray for snow that never came.<br />
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Now, as a grown woman, a mother who understands why it can't snow in November in Austin, I meet the changing season with anticipation and, still, longing. October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month. It is also the month that we lost Jordan, and this November would have been Violet's first birthday. Last year marked a season of loss for my household, but as we settle into our new routine with our infant boy and our two year old, I sense the end of that season. The days are not marked with sadness or tears anymore, but with the bustle of a young family with two tiny ones. This season of our lives doesn't look like something I would have seen in a storybook, but it's beautiful in its own way.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.calebwilde.com/2012/02/sculpting-the-loss-of-a-child/" target="_blank">Memorial to Unborn Children, image found here</a></td></tr>
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In the quiet early hours before the sun rises, as I slip quietly from our bed to nourish my crying 10 week old Joshua, I feel the cool wood floors and breathe the smell of a fall morning coming in from the open windows. I sense the subtle shift; it is fall in Texas. I cradle Joshua, my own harbinger of a new season, in my arms, and I know that happiness is here once again. I rock him and nurse him, grateful for the few minutes of quiet, and I think of the best way to express this, but I can never settle on the perfect words. Instead, I will just say it the best way I know how: I feel true happiness and I feel true peace, and I believe with all of my heart that God does what is best for me. But my heart cries out, on peaceful quiet mornings, for Violet and Jordan. I think it's safe to say that I will always long, in some way, to hold them and to hear their baby coos and cries, to know what they would have looked like as toddlers and teenagers, to know if they would have had blue eyes like both of my other boys, like their father. I just wanted to share this to honor those other women (and men) who know this type of hurt and longing. There is beauty in every season.<br />
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<br />Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-34420960509097971132012-11-01T14:11:00.000-07:002012-11-01T14:35:22.629-07:00On Carving Out Spaces<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have been putting off writing a new post because, since this newest little chubby child has emerged from the womb (safe and sound!) and come to live in our home*, I have felt protective and unsure of throwing my words and pictures around online. Not because I worry about cyber-crime (feels funny to type that) or privacy issues, but because I care if my words are encouraging. I want to make sure they aren't hollow or misleading or, worse yet, discouraging to any one, especially another mother.<br />
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Funny how the protective hands of a mama can extend well past the reach of her children.<br />
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Along those lines, I will say that I have felt in my heart a strong, deeply rooted desire to carve out space lately -- space for my husband to be encouraged, space for my toddler son to grow and play creatively and have quiet time, space for the four of us to be still as a family, space for Joshua to be nurtured, and space for me to feel peace and to create calm and order in an otherwise chaotic world. I plan on focusing a little more on these things over the next few weeks and hope to write more about them.<br />
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Ellen at <a href="http://thesweetwaterblog.com/2012/10/31/abide-what-my-story-taught-me/" target="_blank">Sweet Water</a> is writing a 31 day series on home, and her words have been so encouraging and strengthening to me lately. You should read what she's writing about because I bet it hits home with you, too.<br />
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* I know I skipped a whole chapter and never posted about Joshua's birth or first days here, but I am still thinking about those very special days and what can be said about them. He is, as you can see, totally healthy, weighing 7 pounds and 3 ounces at birth, and is precious as can be.Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-52812602373463692642012-08-11T15:35:00.001-07:002012-08-11T15:35:04.451-07:00Joshua's NurseryIt's finished! Finally. Ten days before his scheduled arrival. Walking past his nursery and catching a glimpse of his stenciled book ledges from the living room makes me feel so happy. I can't believe the journey this pregnancy has been, but I am so grateful to be ten days from my due date with a healthy and developed baby incubating.<br />
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Upon entering the nursery. His room is part of a jack and jill suite that shares a bathroom with our guest bedroom. One day I will decorate it for both boys to share, but for now it is still just for guests. </div>
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This room is fairly small, but has plenty of room for what we need. Those black french doors lead to the guest room.</div>
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This room is blindingly bright for portions of the day, and the crib really glows like that in the early afternoon. I love it, but we'll definitely be closing the blinds for Joshua's naps.</div>
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Ledge bookshelves built by Don's dad, who is such a talented carpenter. I painted them white and stenciled little owls and woodland creatures on one end of each shelf.</div>
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I love this little changing table from Walmart. I bought it because it was cheap and the perfect size, but once it was assembled (thank you, Dad!), it was a little lackluster. I painted the knobs with blue acrylic paint and added white polkadots before sealing them with a very thin coat of polyurethane, made covered storage bins to hold diapers, wipes, and swaddlers, and added a hand painted woodland scene.</div>
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My father-in-law cut a 1/8 inch piece of scrap wood to fit the ledge around the top of the changing table, and I added layers of turquoise and blue paint before stenciling and sketching owls, trees, mushrooms, and a couple of love birds and squirrels onto the wood. Once everything dried, I dipped a wadded up paper towel into brown acrylic paint and dragged and dabbed it over the painting, wiping it every few seconds with a wet rag. This made it look distressed and gave it a bit more dimension. </div>
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I sewed a little pillow for William to snuggle up with and read. The books on the bottom two shelves are all of his favorites and we read in Joshua's room at least twice a day now.</div>
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I bought a $5 frame from Goodwill, removed the glass (and the scary Dubuque poster circa 1982 from it), and made a new background from craft paper. I glued lengths of twine, anchored with whatchamacallits (wow, I'm too lazy to look the name up even though I'm already online...sad), and used tiny white clothespins to display sweet notes from friends and family written for Joshua as part of his baby blessing. </div>
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Nothing in his nursery is fancy, but everything was made with love. Just some pom pom trim to edge the lamp shade.</div>
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His crib, the same crib my sisters and I slept in as babies 30 years ago. See those storage boxes to the right of his crib? I bought a ton on clearance at Joann's and they house clothes that Joshua won't need for months. The boxes look so sweet stacked in a tower, but since William's favorite game is dumping things out of boxes and reorganizing them, I had to move the rest of the boxes into the closet.</div>
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His verse, pinned inside a handmade frame I bought when Ginger's was closing down. </div>
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These bunny slippers were the very first thing I bought for William before he was born, but he was such a whopper of a baby that his feet were never small enough to wear these sweet little booties. I wanted to display them in Joshua's room because this room really is a space for me to cherish both boys.</div>
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More framed prints from Ginger's that I purchased when they closed down. And the middle frame is my all-time favorite photo of my mom, older sister, and me.</div>
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I ruffled teal ribbon and glued it to a white frame.</div>
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I really love the old-fashioned alphabet cross stitch samplers. </div>
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Now all we need is Joshua. His new Moses basket awaits.</div>
<br />Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-63995591684959439852012-07-22T13:40:00.000-07:002012-07-22T13:40:09.924-07:00What a Heart Can Hold<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I sit in the booth at our favorite Chinese restaurant as Don orders his meal, and I feel the little body in my womb squirm and stretch. His head nuzzles my hip; his feet try to find their way between my ribs, and I gently press my hand to my belly to calm his frenzied activity. When he is born in less than a month, I will swaddle him, I will wrap him tight, hold him close and sing to him. For now, though, I mother him as best I can through the barrier that both connects and separates us, my body.<br />
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Our waitress smiles at me and asks, "Do you have other children or is this your first?"<br />
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There is no pause when I answer, "No, we have a two-year-old son at home with his grandparents."<br />
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Don and I smile casually but I look at his eyes and know he is thinking of them both, our other two little ones. The ones who came between William and Joshua. The ones who came and left.<br />
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In the late evening, when William is asleep in his room and Don is finishing up work notes in his office, I go into Joshua's nursery and sink down into the glider. I put my hands on my belly and I look at his crib, his books, the piles of sweet newborn clothes waiting for him, and I am so overwhelmed with peace and thanks that I would probably fall to my knees if I weren't already sitting down. I still don't understand the details of His plan, how God decides who will stay and who will go and who will hurt and who will have a baby and who will not. I am grateful for this. I know in the deepest recesses of my heart that knowledge of His plans for my future would be far too great a weight for me to carry.<br />
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Here in our home, in this tiny room that has been painted for a baby, there is peace. There is love. There is belief in an author of life, an original creator who remains even to this very moment.<br />
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I rock in the glider and close my tired eyes because, as it most always is with a two-year-old in tow and the full weight of the third trimester in my womb, today has been a long day. I sing, like I always have.<br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Lord, prepare me</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">to be a sanctuary</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">pure and holy, tried and true.</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">With thanksgiving, I'll be a living</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">sanctuary for you.</span></i></div>
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Here in <a href="http://shortsweetseason.blogspot.com/2011/08/searching-of-heart.html" target="_blank">my heart</a>, God has carved out a space that I never dreamt could exist. A sanctuary is being built. I think of all the <a href="http://shortsweetseason.blogspot.com/2011/04/things-i-will-not-do-during-this.html" target="_blank">joy</a>, followed by sorrow, the tears that would not stop coming, the bitterness that was so tempting to plant but that I weeded out with His grace alone. I feel where the sorrow bloomed to hope and the fears gave way to surrendering, and now, here in my heart, there is a sanctuary. And there is room for each child He gave us, William, <a href="http://shortsweetseason.blogspot.com/2011/06/this-hurts-and-god-is-still-good.html" target="_blank">Violet</a>, <a href="http://shortsweetseason.blogspot.com/2011/10/joy-is-choice.html" target="_blank">Jordan</a>, and Joshua.<br />
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What can a heart hold? There is no limit. There is no limit at all.<br />
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<br />Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-13757025517290513752012-07-17T15:35:00.000-07:002012-07-17T18:12:20.286-07:00My New Favorite RoomIt isn't finished yet, but everyone has been helping me get Joshua's nursery ready for him. This is the sunniest room in our house; it is illuminated for the first half of the day. William and I spend an hour every morning reading in Joshua's glider (which William hesitantly handed down).<br />
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I love that Joshua will sleep in the same crib I did as a baby.<br />
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Joshua's new stuffed animals, thrown into the crib to save them from William.<br />
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My gracious father-in-law built book ledges for the nursery and I painted them white. Billye, my mother-in-law, spent days painting the walls and all of the trim, which was still gold (in oil based paint, ACK!) from the previous owners.<br />
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The blanket I made for Joshua months ago, when I was on bed rest.<br />
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His bedding. When the sun shines on the crib, it is washed in light, hence the faded colors. We still have to install blinds.<br />
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A photo of my mom, big sis, and me as a (huge) newborn baby. Note that crib in the background!<br />
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Sweet cross stitch samplers saved from Ginger's, a handmade arts institution in Austin that is sadly closing down.<br />
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An unfinished project.<br />
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More unfinished projects. This frame might be my best Goodwill find yet.<br />
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Newborn kimono onesies, the first things we bought for Joshua after weeks wondering if he would really stay.<br />
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Has anyone tried to take a pregnancy shot of themselves without a tripod? It's hard work.Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-54865006282692949662012-07-11T11:02:00.002-07:002012-07-11T12:11:21.804-07:00Pumpkin Muffins with Brown Sugar Whipped CreamYesterday, as I drove home from HEB in the scalding 100 degree heat and lamented the weight of my very pregnant belly that pulled me forward in my seat, I reminded myself that the blazing days of summer in Texas will come to an end, as will this joy ride of a pregnancy, and that by the time the first cold front blows in, I will have another sweet baby nestled in my arms (instead of punching me in the bladder).<br />
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Naturally, this made me crave pumpkin.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gESYgZZhm2Y/T_26RKcVa8I/AAAAAAAACHI/FxGHGT2UZ0k/s1600/IMG_4157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Healthy Pumpkin Bread Recipe" border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gESYgZZhm2Y/T_26RKcVa8I/AAAAAAAACHI/FxGHGT2UZ0k/s640/IMG_4157.JPG" title="Pumpkin Muffins with Whole Wheat Flour" width="640" /></a></div>
There is nothing that signifies the arrival of fall to me more than the smell of pumpkin bread baking in the oven. Pumpkin bread is one of my mother's specialties and as soon I unpacked my melting 2 year old and groceries from the car, I called her for suggestions on a lighter pumpkin bread recipe. I found a quick and easy <a href="http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/pecan-topped-pumpkin-bread-10000001673145/" target="_blank">recipe on Cooking Light</a>, but I adapted it a bit for my family's tastes and what we had on hand. Because there was no way I was venturing back outside in the heat to buy egg substitutes. Here is the revised recipe.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>Pumpkin Muffins with Whole Wheat Flour and Brown Sugar Whipped Cream </i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>(to balance out the whole wheatiness)</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Ingredients:</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>2 cups all-purpose flour</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1 & 1/3 cup white whole wheat flour (I always use King Arthur)</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1 tablespoon baking powder</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>2 teaspoons baking soda</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1 teaspoon kosher salt</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1 teaspoon ground cinnamon</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1 teaspoon ground nutmeg</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1/2 teaspoon allspice</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1 cup granulated sugar</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1 cup brown sugar</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1/2 cup mashed or pureed banana (get all the clumps mashed out!)</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1/2 cup canola oil</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1/2 cup low-fat buttermilk (or same amount of low-fat milk with dash of vinegar added)</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>2 large eggs</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>2/3 cup water</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1-15 oz. can of pumpkin puree</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>cooking spray</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. Preheat oven to 350.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. Mix the first eight ingredients (flour through allspice) in a large bowl.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3. In a second bowl, mix both types of sugar, pureed banana, oil, buttermilk or milk, and eggs with a hand mixer on medium-high speed until well blended. Add the water and pumpkin and mix again on medium-high speed until well blended. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4. Add the flour mixture to the pumpkin mixture and blend on low speed or hand stir with a rubber spatula until well blended. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">5. Spray a muffin tin with cooking spray. Fill each muffin cup almost to the top with the batter and bake for 20-22 minutes, depending on your oven. Remove the muffins when they are golden brown and the tops are firm. Let cool on a cooling rack.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Optional: Add 1 cup of cold heavy cream with 1 tablespoon of brown sugar to a metal mixing bowl. Mix on high speed for 3-5 minutes, until the desired consistency. Spoon over your pumpkin muffin for a significantly less healthy but fantabulous dessert.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<br />Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-25971497479266538832012-07-06T14:46:00.004-07:002012-07-06T14:46:47.826-07:00Home is in the DetailsDo you remember once before when I wrote about my Pinterest addiction that led to confusion and me thinking I might prefer modern things to traditional furnishings? I may be the only person I know who has (or at least admits to having) this illness, but I am symptom free and more design-satisfied if I simply stay off of Pinterest.<br />
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But I broke my own rule today. I fell off the wagon. I looked through other people's boards (since I deleted my account) for way too long, and now my creativity feels thwarted from eye candy overload. </div>
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In an attempt to sober myself, I went around our living room with my camera and focused on the things I like instead of the endless possibilities for restyling. This is the room where William plays, where I work and sew, where I sit with friends for coffee breaks, where we eat with guests. I focused on the things that are unique to our home and family.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j86fffP_Eno/T_dU0YQcmWI/AAAAAAAACFw/GTArAash-0c/s1600/IMG_3996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j86fffP_Eno/T_dU0YQcmWI/AAAAAAAACFw/GTArAash-0c/s640/IMG_3996.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
The perfectly clear light that streams in the dining room windows, making everything easier to photograph.<br />
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The light that floods the front room so I never miss out on the sun, even while on bed rest.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_NfxuM-2xrw/T_dVIYj9M4I/AAAAAAAACGA/f-Nl4-wtPMo/s1600/IMG_4022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_NfxuM-2xrw/T_dVIYj9M4I/AAAAAAAACGA/f-Nl4-wtPMo/s640/IMG_4022.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
The mismatched pillows and chairs and the assortment of antique end tables.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZuUuBGBbwDg/T_dVRsDhxHI/AAAAAAAACGI/LdrWkJ3I3jc/s1600/IMG_4038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZuUuBGBbwDg/T_dVRsDhxHI/AAAAAAAACGI/LdrWkJ3I3jc/s640/IMG_4038.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
My homemade faux butterfly and moth shadow box, another bed rest project I wouldn't have attempted otherwise.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S_0ebaLLsgc/T_dVbLTPx3I/AAAAAAAACGQ/puEFg5iYB_0/s1600/IMG_4039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S_0ebaLLsgc/T_dVbLTPx3I/AAAAAAAACGQ/puEFg5iYB_0/s640/IMG_4039.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
The stack of water damaged (but loved) classic books my dad bought decades ago.<br />
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William's "river" nestled in a wicker basket turned coffee table. The blanket was a happy Goodwill find (it's really a Pottery Barn Kids blue 100% silk blanket). He sits in it and pretends to row a boat filled with trucks and stuffed animals.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bZrLhA4Stro/T_dVzKFj48I/AAAAAAAACGg/Vcz6ls_lunY/s1600/IMG_4044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bZrLhA4Stro/T_dVzKFj48I/AAAAAAAACGg/Vcz6ls_lunY/s640/IMG_4044.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The doily project I made last year. Not everyone likes it, including my mother who refers to it as "an inappropriate use of textiles," but it's striking to look at, and that's what I was aiming for.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rLKjcqQ78wA/T_dcR5Jdq5I/AAAAAAAACG8/gzctxB2mmhg/s1600/IMG_4061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rLKjcqQ78wA/T_dcR5Jdq5I/AAAAAAAACG8/gzctxB2mmhg/s640/IMG_4061.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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A set of Don's paternal grandmother's green dominos nestled in a silver plated candy dish my parents received as a wedding gift 35 years ago (and apparently didn't want, since my mom let me steal it from them last Christmas).</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6mVlqbC64fY/T_dWDJzLcdI/AAAAAAAACGo/DBDSW04A7NU/s1600/IMG_4047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6mVlqbC64fY/T_dWDJzLcdI/AAAAAAAACGo/DBDSW04A7NU/s640/IMG_4047.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The entry dresser and mirror that belonged to my mom when she was growing up. There is a scary amount of beige happening in this area, but I am still debating on whether I should spray paint the Ballard Design buffet lamps or paint the mirror and add some colorful picture frames around it.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l3LUawdf9xM/T_dWLV3JPcI/AAAAAAAACGw/ZhidowOJgf0/s1600/IMG_4051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l3LUawdf9xM/T_dWLV3JPcI/AAAAAAAACGw/ZhidowOJgf0/s640/IMG_4051.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
I love our big table, but I can never figure out what to put on it outside of meal times. Note the FoodSaver and lens cover, for example.<br />
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When I get overwhelmed with all of the work we still have to do in our home, I remind myself of the things I love and that our home is in the details. Does anyone else do the same?</div>Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-51995093372032059662012-07-01T19:03:00.002-07:002012-07-01T19:03:51.310-07:00Wooden Bowl MakeoverAs my super crazed nesting continues, I am learning about patience. I'm off of bed rest, but still not allowed to make "vigorous or strenuous" movements, including painting or sanding and stripping furniture. When I was eight months pregnant with William, I sanded and stained a Craigslist dresser for his bedroom, and I repainted his room twice. There are some painting and reupholstering projects I wish I could complete before Joshua is born, since I know it will be months before I'll have the time to work on refinishing furniture with a newborn and a 2 year old, but in the meantime, I'm doing tiny makeovers. Meet my latest victim, a 99 cent wooden fruit bowl from Goodwill.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B4dyVEDNn1E/T_D9QKllANI/AAAAAAAACFM/UI2gMLc7ky4/s1600/IMG_3911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B4dyVEDNn1E/T_D9QKllANI/AAAAAAAACFM/UI2gMLc7ky4/s640/IMG_3911.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before.</td></tr>
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I tried restoring the bowl with layers of wood oil, but this sucker is dried out and must have been neglected for years. So I decided to paint it, and now look how cute it is. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5q5c3Rg-GG4/T_D-MksDiLI/AAAAAAAACFU/YNmpdh__Hl8/s1600/IMG_3956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="twisted fabric roses" border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5q5c3Rg-GG4/T_D-MksDiLI/AAAAAAAACFU/YNmpdh__Hl8/s640/IMG_3956.JPG" title="burlap roses" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ta da!</td></tr>
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I spray painted it with white enamel paint and glued a length of burlap ribbon around it. I made a few twisted fabric roses from white canvas and more of the burlap ribbon and glued those on. The ribbon and roses are not glued to the bowl (just to each other) so I can slip them off if I want to change things up later.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YinKJjPBNUk/T_D_PrznLYI/AAAAAAAACFc/mQtsSuoiLow/s1600/IMG_3959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="DIY napkin holder" border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YinKJjPBNUk/T_D_PrznLYI/AAAAAAAACFc/mQtsSuoiLow/s640/IMG_3959.JPG" title="napkin holder" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vmXYHbMvcV4/T_D_Y0iiUSI/AAAAAAAACFk/NdybnJLYKh4/s1600/IMG_3963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vmXYHbMvcV4/T_D_Y0iiUSI/AAAAAAAACFk/NdybnJLYKh4/s640/IMG_3963.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I told Don I feel like it's acceptable for me to decorate our house with things I love, including roses and burlap ribbon, to balance the testosterone that outnumbers me 3 to 1. I asked him if he thought this bowl was cute. </div>
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Don: How much did it cost you to make that?</div>
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Me: 99 cents for the bowl, but I bought it over a year ago, which I think makes it free.</div>
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Don: I don't know what cute is, but I'd buy that for a dollar.</div>
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I'll consider that a success.</div>Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-13766893489033341502012-06-29T11:31:00.002-07:002012-06-29T11:31:25.690-07:00Craft Hoarding & Mother LoveThere are 7 weeks and one day remaining until Joshua is due to leave my womb and enter the outside world, and I am on a mission to organize and clean every space in our home before then.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-366_FXogZqk/T-3uMDP2Q1I/AAAAAAAACEg/Z5fHR5fj2LU/s1600/IMG_3874.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="pregnancy calendar" border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-366_FXogZqk/T-3uMDP2Q1I/AAAAAAAACEg/Z5fHR5fj2LU/s640/IMG_3874.jpg" title="countdown to due date" width="425" /></a></div>
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I am currently working (again) on the craft closet. One day I will bite the bullet and turn the whole guest room into a craft room that happens to have a queen size bed in it, but until that day comes, I am limiting my storage area to the guest room closet. Be warned: this next picture is ugly and there is no after photo with which to soothe your eyes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZjRZJdrWo3U/T-3v4Q50gII/AAAAAAAACEo/bk5aFu4OnYs/s1600/IMG_3914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZjRZJdrWo3U/T-3v4Q50gII/AAAAAAAACEo/bk5aFu4OnYs/s640/IMG_3914.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And this was <i>after</i> I had removed half of the junk in there.</td></tr>
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My nesting urge is particularly keen and has allowed me to face the ugly truth: I am a craft supply hoarder. Using all of those years of clinical and therapist training classes, I have discovered the source of my craft hoarding problems: I think that if I can find an unexpected use for an item, I have to buy/recycle/accept the item and store it indefinitely in case one day I need it.<br />
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Like the ugly $2 chafing dish purchased from Sam's Club two years ago, since I saw it and immediately thought I could tie small scraps of fabric all over it and use it to store colorful baby blankets on William's bedroom shelf without concealing them. I need help.<br />
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While sorting through the horrible mess that once was the craft closet, I came across some letters that my mother wrote to me when I lived in England in grad school. I sat down to read them one last time before throwing them away and realized that they are gems and I'm just going to have to find a place to keep them.<br />
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My mother is hilarious; I can't say it enough. She is also a God-loving and wise wise wise woman who has never ONCE in my entire life given me bad advice. If I am as loving and spirit-filled as she is when I am her age, I will consider it a success. She is the reason I understand the importance of studying the Bible and growing close to God. She has shown me first hand that the Bible and its words are life-giving, but you can only share those life-giving words with your children if you have learned them for yourself. But here's a glimpse at her humor, which had Don and me cracking up last night:<br />
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"Are you warm? clean? praying? eating well? I'd watch the beef over there. Experts say that mad cow bacteria can live dormant for 20 years and then suddenly come into full swing. Do you know if this is true? Imagine! For lunch one day it's a small, slightly pink in the middle Big Mac, and then one day when you least expect it, BAM - you're all swollen, green, and dead!"<br />
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Have a wonderful weekend, friends!Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-32620334114649587642012-06-27T19:11:00.000-07:002012-06-27T19:11:42.627-07:00A Delicious Green SmoothieI have a thing for smoothies. The smoothie recipe I make most often for my family <a href="http://shortsweetseason.blogspot.com/2011/06/happy-eating-baby-mama-smoothies.html" target="_blank">is here in this old post</a>, but I have a new favorite. So does William.<br />
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<a href="http://www.verycarey.com/" target="_blank">Meet Carey</a>. Meet <a href="http://www.verycarey.com/2012/04/sweet-spinachy.html" target="_blank">Carey's recipe</a> for a delicious toddler and pregnant mama approved smoothie. Did I mention Carey is a chef? She knows her stuff.<br />
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William thinks there is ice cream in this smoothie. He is mistaken. He had just woken up from his nap and was thrilled that there was a smoothie waiting for him.<br />
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Straws are hard.<br />
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But worth the effort.<br />
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I love this smoothie because it isn't thick and so it feels lighter, more like a snack instead of a meal. I mistakenly read Carey's recipe as containing coconut milk instead of almond milk, and so I have been making it with the coconut milk and coconut water (and no almond milk) and it still tastes delicious. The coconut milk is naturally sweet so I don't need to add the honey.<br />
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Here's a little tip: I slice fresh bananas and flash freeze them for 30 minutes on a baking sheet. Then I snap the frozen banana slices off the baking sheet and keep them in a ziploc bag in the freezer until I need them. You can also stick a whole banana in the freezer but peeling frozen bananas kills my fingers.<br />
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Thanks for sharing this great recipe, Carey! It's a new staple in our house.Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-8536699535337277752012-06-26T20:17:00.000-07:002012-06-26T20:17:56.706-07:00Feeling Un-PinterestyI am taking a long break from anything Pinterest related. A few months ago I reached max capacity with Pinterest inspiration and instead of feeling inspired after adding to my pin boards, I felt drained of creative energy and unoriginal. I think Pinterest is great for some things, but I am currently over it. It's like all of the Vogues and Vanity Fairs and House Beautifuls and Etsy shops exploded into a massive collage of witty sparkly decoupaged pages and honestly, it's just too much for my eyes to handle these days.<br />
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So I'm going old-school. I'm browsing fabricworm.com and slowly walking the aisles at Hobby Lobby and Joann's and stopping in my local quilting store. I'm reviewing the old decorating and holiday magazines I've saved since I was in college and feeling inspired by the things that I used to find so beautiful.<br />
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And you know what? I think my little projects are benefitting from my pin-crazy hiatus. I've learned to blind stitch and hand quilt and embroider (a little bit) and measure and sew with more precision. Since my eyes aren't inundated with thousands of pictures of what other people find inspiring or fun to look at, I've begun to develop a clearer picture of my own personal style and taste.<br />
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William turned two (TWO!) while I was still on bed rest, and I wanted to do my very best to give him some beautiful handmade things. Since I was so limited in terms of movement, we only had a small group of family members over, and it was wonderful to be able to prepare a little party just for him without having to consider color schemes or tiny paper decorations that would be thrown away at the end of the day. It was a party like the ones I remember from my own childhood, with homemade cupcakes and messy but delicious icing (if I do say so myself). For <i>weeks </i>in advance, William told me he wanted "chockit orange cupcakes wif SPRINGLES!!!!!" Emphasis on the sprinkles. I had so much fun making them and not considering whether or not they were pin-board-worthy.<br />
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I didn't even use a pastry bag to pipe the icing. I smoothed it on old-school style, with a butter knife, just like my mom did for my birthday parties. I bought pre-made sugar lady bugs from Hobby Lobby (because William loves bugs) and stuck one on each cupcake.<br />
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He was in heaven. His second birthday was a lot different from <a href="http://shortsweetseason.blogspot.com/2011/06/william-is-one.html" target="_blank">his first, when I was on Pinterest overload.</a><br />
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Where do you stand with Pinterest? Can you go online for a just a few minutes and feel inspired or do you get sucked in and leave feeling a little on the drained side?Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-39405538392058326942012-06-25T10:00:00.000-07:002012-06-25T10:00:02.969-07:00Baby Bedding & the Beauty of SewingWhen I was eight months pregnant with William in 2010, I decided on a whim to purchase a sewing machine and learn how to sew. I dabbled in sewing for a few weeks and felt extremely frustrated by the small tasks of learning to thread the machine and refill the bobbin, and I was too intimidated to attempt the scarier side of sewing. And by scary I mean anything involving cutting on the bias, zippers, elastic, or working with a shape other than a square. <div>
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But the strong allure of charming handmade gifts and having customized items that I wouldn't be able to afford otherwise lured me in, and I have continued to drag out my machine and its messy accessories on a regular basis. In fact, our huge dining room table looks this more days than not.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just keeping it real, people.</td></tr>
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I don't mind the mess because sewing has been a great creative outlet for me, and I always take on projects with instant gratification. Like making changing pad covers for Joshua.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oJ-CcA7t90A/T-fCqIxvQPI/AAAAAAAACBg/CVzzC6FYQCM/s1600/IMG_3755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Changing Pad Cover" border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oJ-CcA7t90A/T-fCqIxvQPI/AAAAAAAACBg/CVzzC6FYQCM/s640/IMG_3755.JPG" title="Contoured Changing Pad Cover" width="640" /></a></div>
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I used the tutorial for contoured changing pad covers written by <a href="http://www.aloadofcraft.com/2010/03/tutorial-how-to-make-contoured-changing.html" target="_blank">A Load of Craft</a> as the basis of my plan for creating the cover, but I didn't follow it for the changing pad pictured above. There's nothing wrong with the tutorial, but the two I made from three cuts of fabric didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped, so I decided to revise the process a bit for myself.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exhibit A. Just trace the contoured side of the changing pad onto paper (I used wax paper because it was handy).</td></tr>
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There is a perfectionist lurking inside me, and I had to fight the urge to make the pattern look straight and pretty. As <a href="http://www.aloadofcraft.com/" target="_blank">A Load of Craft</a> points out, the sides of these changing pads are not straight and pretty, so the traced pattern is going to be a little weird looking, too. Accept it and move on.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BqzDEzONzP8/T-fHM-HaZ6I/AAAAAAAACB0/qc65FpIulc8/s1600/IMG_3683.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BqzDEzONzP8/T-fHM-HaZ6I/AAAAAAAACB0/qc65FpIulc8/s640/IMG_3683.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remember to sew the contoured side to the top piece as though both pieces have straight edges.</td></tr>
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I got the smoothest fit by cutting a single piece of fabric to cover the top and then sewing on the four individual side pieces with enough extra fabric to go underneath the pad and make the elastic casing. I am posting the picture above because I thought the trickiest part was sewing the contoured piece to the center piece of fabric. The pieces should be pinned and sewn as though they are both straight cuts of fabric. </div>
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See that little raised tuck of fabric on the left side of the photo above? That's a result of having the contoured piece pulled down in a straight edge. (Don't be thrown off by the size of the top cut of fabric. I used an old baby blanket that I made for William but we didn't use it much.)</div>
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This pad cover is adorable and I haven't found any off the rack changing covers with fabric as cute as this online or in stores, unless we're talking about spending a tiny fortune on baby bedding. Which I am not.</div>
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There you have it. A sweet custom changing pad cover for a fraction of the cost of buying one. Let's look at it again, shall we?</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute! </td></tr>
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<br /></div>Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-67545745416984745472012-06-24T11:43:00.001-07:002012-06-24T11:44:38.256-07:00The End of a Season & Budget DecoratingThis week at the doctor's office, after twelve weeks on bed rest, my maternal fetal specialist officially ended my restrictions. We've quickly returned to our normal pace around here, with a few big changes. The first two weeks on bed rest were nightmarish for me, only because I was prohibited from engaging my abdominal muscles (that's a tall order!) and I felt like the only thing I could do was sit and worry that we were going to lose a third baby. After those two weeks, though, my body began turning around and my spirit followed suit. I will never forget the amazing things that happened in my heart, our house, and especially my womb during that time. Healing without explanation, beating all of the odds, lots of prayer, and a new understanding of the breadth of God's love for us. In the thirty years of my life, this past year has been a long season of loss and grace and stumbling, but I feel like the repeated losses, at least those related to pregnancy and health, are slowly coming to an end.<br />
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On a much lighter note, now that I am no longer on bed rest, I am catching up on getting our house and Joshua's nursery ready for a new baby. We obviously have some major medical expenses right now, so I'm doing my best to keep the cost of this nursery down.<br />
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Way down.<br />
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We ordered a changing table from Walmart.com (did I mention we're on a budget?) and it has open cubbies at the top to house diapers and wipes. I knew we needed baskets for the cubbies, but I wanted to spend less than $5 a basket, and I wanted something durable, sturdy, and cute.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qn0b3xHwd8Q/T-dZMlBg33I/AAAAAAAACAw/rtyzCxLbmpM/s1600/IMG_3738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Slipcovers for Baskets" border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qn0b3xHwd8Q/T-dZMlBg33I/AAAAAAAACAw/rtyzCxLbmpM/s640/IMG_3738.JPG" title="Changing Table Storage" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Never you mind that yellow wall and gold trim. They'll be gone pretty soon!</span></td></tr>
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Last week at Joann's (which has been my only stop on the way home from the hospital, since the store near us is small enough that I can walk around without breaking any of my doctor's rules), I found these blue mesh storage bins on clearance for $4 each, down from $8.99. Score! The down side is that they're ugly. Or at least they were. Now they are cute and I kind of love them.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6D6XrKgL8Sk/T-dcjXrESqI/AAAAAAAACA8/hPKyMhkFteY/s1600/IMG_3739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Cute Cheap Storage " border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6D6XrKgL8Sk/T-dcjXrESqI/AAAAAAAACA8/hPKyMhkFteY/s640/IMG_3739.JPG" title="Slipcovered Storage Bins" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I2pIBtsIXk0/T-ddlW_ToCI/AAAAAAAACBM/fI-ikgGt7P0/s1600/IMG_3743.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Changing Table Baskets" border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I2pIBtsIXk0/T-ddlW_ToCI/AAAAAAAACBM/fI-ikgGt7P0/s640/IMG_3743.JPG" title="Storage Bins" width="640" /></a></div>
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After staring at them for 15 minutes and contemplating hot gluing fabric to the fronts, I knew I wanted to make slipcovers so that I could change the look in the future (I have big plans for this changing table once there are no more diaper-wearers in this house). I will try to post a step-by-step tutorial later, but I just traced the sides of the box onto paper and used that as a pattern. I used coordinating fabric and ribbons for the front panels and plain muslin for the sides and back. I sewed them snugly so they stay upright once you tug them on and there's no sagging. I have plans for labeling the bins, but these bins came with label pouches sewn on the front and sides, and I used my seam ripper to remove them before I slipcovered them. If you want the labels to remain, just stitch them back on to the front of your slipcover.</div>
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I already owned all of the fabric for these boxes, so this project was really just $4 per bin. I am so happy with the way the slipcovers turned out. If you make some of your own, I'd love to see pictures!</div>
<br />Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-2728798602594293372012-06-11T15:00:00.000-07:002012-06-14T10:43:18.765-07:00Whole Grain Milk Chocolate Cranberry Cookies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-odmMTikwS1g/T9Xr8eacHWI/AAAAAAAACAk/sXen1N012aA/s1600/IMG_3198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-odmMTikwS1g/T9Xr8eacHWI/AAAAAAAACAk/sXen1N012aA/s640/IMG_3198.JPG" title="Whole Grain Milk Chocolate Cranberry Cookies" width="640" /></a></div>
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Sometimes I want to bake, but I want to bake something that has at least <i>some</i> redeeming nutritional qualities. I adapted this recipe from the Old Fashioned Quaker Oats "vanishing oatmeal raisin cookies" recipe found on the inside of the oats lid. These cookies are slightly crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, and are made with whole wheat flour and dried fruit. They also have nearly two sticks of butter...not that anyone is counting.<br />
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Whole Grain Milk Chocolate Cranberry Cookies</span></i></b></div>
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1/2 cup (1 stick) plus 6 tbsp. butter, softened</div>
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3/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar</div>
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1/2 cup granulated sugar</div>
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2 eggs</div>
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1 teaspoon vanilla</div>
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1 and 1/2 cups white whole wheat flour (I prefer King Arthur Flour)</div>
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1 teaspoon baking soda</div>
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1 teaspoon ground cinnamon</div>
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1/2 teaspoon salt</div>
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2 and 1/2 cups Quaker Oats (the old-fashioned kind)</div>
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1 cup milk chocolate chips</div>
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1 cup dried cranberries</div>
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1. Heat oven to 350. In large bowl, beat butter and sugars on medium speed until creamy.</div>
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2. Add eggs and vanilla; beat well.</div>
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3. Add combined flour, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt. Mix well.</div>
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4. Add oats, chocolate chips, and cranberries. Mix well with a spatula.</div>
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5. Drop dough onto ungreased cookie sheets lined with parchment paper.</div>
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6. Bake 10-12 minutes or until light golden brown. Cool on wire rack. Store tightly covered.</div>
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I use a medium size ice cream scoop to dole out the cookie dough, and I get about 18 cookies per batch.</div>
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If you don't like cranberries, this recipe is easily adaptable to many combinations. I've made it with dried chopped apricots and dark chocolate chunks, or dried apples and pecans. You can also remove the fruit entirely and just enjoy an oat and chocolate cookie. </div>
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These cookies freeze well, baked or raw. If you bake them first, let them cool completely and then store in a ziploc bag in the freezer. If you want to freeze them unbaked so that you can have fresh cookies at a moment's notice, scoop the cookie dough into balls on a baking sheet, but stick them in the freezer instead of the oven. Freeze for 30 minutes or until firm; then wiggle the cookies off the sheet pan and store them in a ziploc baggie in the freezer. Remove them from the freezer ten minutes before you plan on baking them.</div>
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<br /></div>Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-53762684861048875552012-06-10T20:16:00.001-07:002012-06-10T20:16:22.618-07:00Nesting from Bed (Rest)<div>
There are (hopefully!) nine weeks and six days left before little Joshua is predicted to grace us with his presence, and I have been on a nesting mission. Technically I'm now on "modified bed rest," meaning that our fetal specialist has given me permission to go on brief, non-lifting errands that don't involve me pushing a cart or stroller. Or walking much. I had a million questions about this last week.</div>
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<b>Maternal Fetal Specialist (MFM)</b>: <i>Things are looking really good. I think you can go on short errands.</i></div>
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<b>Me</b>: <i>Like to Target?</i></div>
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<b>MFM</b>: <i>Um, no. I don't think any woman can be in and out of Target in twenty minutes. </i></div>
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<b>Me</b>: <i>What if I go only to one section of Target and I have a list so I don't get sidetracked?</i></div>
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<b>MFM</b>: <i>Only if you're willing to ride one of those motorized shopping carts they have.</i></div>
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<b>Me: </b><i>Okay, so no Target. What about Hobby Lobby?</i></div>
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I worry about judgment from others. I would be afraid someone at Target would think I'm just a big lazy pregnant lady and didn't feel like walking. I'd probably need to make a sign that says "I have a placental abruption, people!"</div>
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In other news, my newly modified bed rest has been such a huge blessing. I can bake again.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whole grain milk chocolate and cranberry cookies cooling in the kitchen</td></tr>
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I can sit at the dining room table and sew and finish a million tiny projects I never would have had time for otherwise. </div>
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Like my favorite burp cloths. William was a major spitter upper as a newborn and I thought the best burp cloths were the Gerber 6-ply cotton cloth diapers with a piece of cotton fabric sewn over the center section. The cotton gives it a bit more stability and looks adorable (at least before it's covered in white curdled milk).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I ordered the fabric for these burp cloths from fabricworm.com.</td></tr>
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And making this ruffled wreath from a tutorial on Jones Design Company's website.</div>
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And finally finishing our gallery wall. I folded a little crease down the center of these die-cut paper butterflies and hot glued them to the inside of this shadow box. It's funny how such a small change makes a big difference in the overall feel of the room.</div>
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And because everyone feels so sorry for me and my bed rest sentence, no one complains (not too much anyway) when I ask for help getting some projects completed before Joshua comes. I have big plans for his little nursery, which is going to be as baby as baby can be. </div>
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This is a picture of me and my mom and big sister on the day I came home from the hospital. See that Jenny Lind crib in the background? That was the crib that my sisters and I each slept in as babies, and it's going to be Joshua's crib, too. I'm so excited about it. I am so thrilled that I'm getting ready to bring our new baby into our family's lives and our home. What an amazing change...to spend time thinking about burp cloths and crib linens and nursery art, a far cry from the way things were just a couple of months ago.</div>
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Now if you'll excuse me, this other stack of burp cloths isn't going to sew itself.</div>Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-11895586483949028342012-05-31T09:39:00.001-07:002012-05-31T09:39:26.395-07:00A Short, Sweet Season (but a LONG post)The Sunday that my placenta tore, I was riding in the car with my husband and son to have dinner at Don's parents' home. I was tired. Not sleepy, but exhausted from always running and trying to do one more thing, like most of the moms I know.<br />
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"I think I need to get some rest," I told my husband.<br />
"You can rest tonight when we put William down."<br />
"No, I think I need some real rest, like enough time to slow down and not be rushing around all the time."<br />
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He shrugged his shoulders.<br />
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I have been thinking about that conversation more and more these last few days. Now that I have been on bed rest for 8 and a half weeks. I think of how God knows what we need and how He delivers it in the least expected ways. How He uses bed rest for teaching and hurting for healing.<br />
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I am being completely honest when I say that I <i>TRY</i> to glorify God every single day. I am also being completely honest when I say that I <i>FAIL</i> daily, repeatedly, day in and day out. These last two months, He has made it easy for me to think of glorifying Him.<br />
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He has kept our littlest child healthy and strong, despite the odds. Despite APS. Despite our doctors' initial expectations.<br />
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Yesterday Joshua weighed (via ultrasound measurements) 1 pound and 14 ounces, ahead of the game for his age. His heart beat was strong and perfect at 154 beats a minute; he has no idea that a battle has been waged against him, that God is winning it for him, for me. I am still at home, though initially I was scheduled to move into the hospital at 23 weeks. Joshua now weighs more than they told us he would weigh at birth! It now looks as though I will carry him all the way to 37 weeks, though initially they weren't sure I would make it to 24.<br />
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(Littlest son, know this to be true: <i>The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still. Exodus 14:14</i>)<br />
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For now, I can say with my whole heart that this time of bed rest has not been a curse, but an absolute hands-down blessing for our family. It has been HARD on everyone, especially for my parents and Don's parents, who have so selflessly given up half of their weeks to come spend the night at our house and take care of William and make sure I am not climbing on top of furniture to hang pictures and sanding and restaining Craigslist purchases in the back yard. It has been hard for me, but it has been so amazingly beautiful, too.<br />
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William has developed even closer relationships with all four of his grandparents.<br />
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Don and I have developed closer relationships with our parents. Daily I think of how blessed we are to have two sets of parents that offered to help us in this huge way, and how this has been a time for us to overcome any differences and to love each other.<br />
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I have learned (though it took at least 4 weeks) that it doesn't matter if my kitchen is perfectly organized or if there are toys on the floor. Or if my mother likes to use seven different dishtowels at the same time.<br />
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I am learning to be still, to trust Him above all else, and to be still. Did I mention that I am being still?<br />
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In lighter news, I have also learned to embroidery. My mom taught me on Monday and I love it. I ordered the fabric in the pictures above to make a blanket for Joshua, but I've been embroidering it now before I quilt it together.Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-14925819143307312942012-05-28T08:20:00.000-07:002012-05-28T08:20:51.249-07:00Memorial DayLast night I watched the Memorial Day events televised from DC, and I couldn't stop crying. Did you see the reading Selma Blair did? She was telling the story of a young wife and mother whose husband was killed in the war three years ago. Her children were 3 years old and 6 months old.<br />
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They showed pictures of their father, the soldier, with his little ones. It hurt my heart so badly to think of that little boy growing up not personally knowing his father.<br />
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And he died for our freedom. For yours and mine. For our kids. So that we can walk in relative safety, unable to comprehend a world where bombs go off in cafes on a regular basis and voting results are intentionally miscounted.<br />
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I am so grateful to all military personnel and soldiers, everyone who gives of their time and skill and lives so that I am free.<br />
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And these guys are free.<br />
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They have worries, but not worries about safety.<br />
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We took this weekend to enjoy the small things we might normally take for granted. Playing on an unmade bed for most of Saturday morning. Shoulder rides and Amy's ice cream and playing at the splash pad (I technically didn't break any rules because I sat and watched the splash pad activity without walking, and I am allowed one seated outing weekly).<br />
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We didn't do a big barbecue because of the whole bed rest thing, but I sat at the kitchen counter and made parmesan zucchini crisps. I cannot wait to get back on my feet again.<br />
<br />Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-31441391566485194702012-05-17T20:45:00.000-07:002012-05-17T20:45:12.171-07:00A Broken HallelujahSometimes the truth is hard to hear.<br />
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Sometimes trusting God is something I can only do with my eyes squeezed shut because I am too scared to look at what lies ahead, though I trust He will see me through it.<br />
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Sometimes, when I lay on the table at the maternal fetal specialist's office, my husband's hand closed over mine is the only thing holding me down to earth. I imagine that if he let me go, I would float off and over the roof of the hospital and end up dangling from the moon.<br />
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Sometimes, though, God says, "Enough."<br />
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Sometimes, He says, "You have to trust me. I will fight for you. You need only be still." (Exodus 14:14)<br />
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I have been still for six weeks and two days. I have had no choice. And today, lying on the exam table, my growing belly and sensitive rib cage already stretching to the max, the sonographer looked confused.<br />
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"I don't see it," she said. "The tear. It's gone. I honestly can't even see it."<br />
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Wave after wave after wave of grace. I tried to keep my head above the water. How does He decide when to apply salve to wounds and when <a href="http://shortsweetseason.blogspot.com/2011/10/joy-is-choice.html" target="_blank">to let fresh scars tear open</a>? I have no idea. I have been on the receiving end of each, but today was a day of salve. A day of balm and comfort and healing and happy happy joy joy bursting through my heart.<br />
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A day so different than April 3, when I felt the blood drain from my heart and evaporate, my fingertips and face turn numb as the doctor spoke to us slowly, reaching out and gripping my arm to keep me from falling backwards.<br />
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What does all of this mean? It means that today Joshua is strong and healthy, big for his age, moving and kicking, totally unaffected by the dead part of the placenta. It means that the tear is gone, though our specialist won't say it's healed since that part of the placenta is still blank and unresponsive, though it doesn't seem to be impacting either Joshua or me.<br />
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It means that today I ordered the most beautiful and perfect crib bedding I could afford. If you are a mother who has had a miscarriage, <a href="http://shortsweetseason.blogspot.com/2011/08/searching-of-heart.html" target="_blank">you know how significant that is. </a><br />
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We ordered crib bedding today.<br />
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God, <a href="http://shortsweetseason.blogspot.com/2011/06/this-hurts-and-god-is-still-good.html" target="_blank">I have said it when it stung</a>, and I say it now in joy, too: my heartfelt HALLELUJAH!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>"God is in the midst of her. </i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>She shall not be moved. </i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>He will help her when morning dawns."</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>Psalm 46 verse 5</i></span></div>
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<br />Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-3612679716396364142012-05-15T10:52:00.001-07:002012-05-15T10:52:19.915-07:00Another Ordinary DayI had almost forgotten this ordinary day.<br />
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Last spring, William and I. We went outside in the very early morning to explore.<br />
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Part of me didn't want to let him crawl off of the blanket. Muddy his knees, prick his chubby palms on a weed, a burr, a stray caterpillar.<br />
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He was, he IS, so little. And everything else is, in comparison, so BIG.<br />
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But off he went. He never looked back.<br />
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I, on the other hand, am his mother, and I will always be looking back.Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-87815068803497621862012-05-14T10:55:00.001-07:002012-05-14T10:55:46.254-07:00Sunflowers and Jimmy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sunflowers are the most cheerful flowers in the entire world. They can brighten up a room. I feel happier just looking at them.</div>
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The same can be said for looking at this guy.</div>
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He was so happy to wake up and see both grandfathers standing by his crib on a "shift change" day. He adores his granddads.<br />
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His post-nap diaper change. The skinned knees and superman shirt make me melt. (I was just standing there long enough to kiss him and take a picture...I haven't changed William's diaper in 6 weeks.)<br />
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Nothing is better than an ice cream sandwich on a hot afternoon...at least for an almost 2 year old. I have permission from my doctor to sit in the backyard with my feet up without breaking any bed rest rules. This has been a lifesaver. </div>
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Did I mention we got a dog? His name is Jimmy and he was $25 on clearance from Pottery Barn. I love him.</div>
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William loves dogs, but Don is horribly allergic. His neck breaks out in huge welts if dog fur touches his face. It's scary. There won't be any real dogs in our family for a long time.<br />
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Joshua is breech, sitting cross legged with his head nestled between my ribs. My ribs feel like they have a vice around them, and I can feel his little butterball head rotating between my lungs all day long. It is so reassuring and comforting to feel him in motion. Did I mention his is sitting on my bladder? As much as I hate to waddle to the restroom a million times a day, I need the extra reassurance of his movement and feeling him. I am actually thankful to have him sitting in the most uncomfortable fetal position possible.</div>
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It won't always be like this. One day Joshua will be on the outside, and I will be wishing I had a moment to sit and rest and put my feet up. </div>Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2488337942605954635.post-61716958139156493682012-05-03T11:56:00.003-07:002012-05-03T11:56:54.326-07:00Peace in the HurtingI have been kind of quiet lately. I have been listening. And thinking. And listening some more.<br />
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I wish I could find the perfect picture for this post. Except that I don't know what the perfect picture would be, and it's definitely not on my laptop right now.<br />
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What I want to convey is so deeply personal that it's going to come out a little on the messy side; what I feel is too big to be articulate.<br />
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What I want to say is this: I am on bed rest, my placenta is damaged, but my heart is weighted down with joy.<br />
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I am at peace. My heart feels real life joy. Right now. Today.<br />
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A person whom I love who says she does not want God told me this weekend, "I am jealous of people who have faith. It seems so nice and easy."<br />
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Sometimes the world comes crashing down around us; our husbands up and leave, our children step in front of moving cars, our doctors frown and point out cancers. In my case, I learned that the very blood in my veins is on a daily mission to assault my functioning, to clog me up with blood clots and ripped open secret places no one can even detect except through ultrasound. Oh, goody.<br />
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What I want to say is this: My cup runneth over.<br />
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I feel connected to you, person reading this. From the e-mails I receive, I know you are a lovely person who has stumbled across this little acre of web and you are questioning things, or looking for something, even if you don't know what that something is. Some encouragement? Some hope that there is true and honest to goodness joy to be had after infertility, or loss, or a life that looks perfect on the outside but feels like empty on the inside?<br />
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I don't know how else to say it, or if my words have become too muddled to untangle here, but my world is all kinds of crazy right now and I am coasting on a raft of calm. I am grounded and standing on something unshakable: the knowledge that God has promised me a future. That He loves me. That He knows me. That He has searched my heart and understands me. Until you have it yourself, this true thing I am saying will not make any sense. It's not supposed to.<br />
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"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." Romans 8:18<br />
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"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28<br />
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The commentary in the Bible I love, The Application Study Bible, New International Version, explains it like this:<br />
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On Romans 8:28 - God works in "all things"--not just isolated incidents--for our good. This does not mean that all that happens to us is good. Evil is prevalent in our fallen world, but God is able to turn every circumstance around for our long-range good. Note that God is not working to make us happy, but to fulfill his purpose. Note also that this promise is not for everybody. It can be claimed only by those who love God and are called according to His purpose. Such people have a new perspective, a new mind-set on life. They trust in God, not life's treasures; they look for their security in heaven, not on earth; they learn to accept, not resent, pain and persecution because God is with them.<br />
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I hope that made sense.<br />
<br />Mary-Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00415363469532556760noreply@blogger.com0