Friday, December 7, 2012

lavender blue

I had a "Best Of Disney" CD growing up. (ACTUAL TRUTH: I think I had several.) I loved them all. I remember one evening in particular- I put the CD in the giant CD player, turned up the volume, and danced as if it were the only item on my to-do list. Ever. I distinctly remember sailing across the room, jumping down from the couch, twirling in the middle where I was sure I'd avoid any and all collisions... and then my mom came in to vacuum. But it was dark outside and I was confused as to why she was vacuuming. Being the extremely helpful child I was, I stepped aside and let her through. I remember my favorite song coming on, and I remember putting it on pause because I couldn't hear the sweet, sweet, music over the vacuum's roar. When she finished I pressed play... and resumed my dancing. I remember thinking- 'Now there's lines in the carpet! Even better!' 

One of my favorite songs started with the words "Red, yellow, green, red, blue, blue, blue..." (, purple, green, yellow, orange, red red.) It was catchy, and I'd sing it to make my siblings laugh. (Although I can't remember if it worked, which makes me skeptical as to whether it did.) The point I'm trying to make? Things were simple, and I was so incredibly happy... with so little. Now granted, I was a child. It was my parents who had to worry about the faded couch from where I was leaping. And the brown carpet that definitely needed replaced. And the six other siblings who were nowhere to be found in that specific memory, but were no doubt scattered about the house engulfed in their own (soon to be) memories. So although I was carefree at the moment- I realize, now, that there were real worries all over the house. But the ACTUAL TRUTH? As an adult I treasure those carefree memories. And in them I find strength. 

Exactly one week ago I found out I had miscarried what we were hoping was to be our fourth child. I was only twelve weeks along, but it came as a shock. A sad little surprise, really- and I was by myself so it wasn't easy to hear. I spent this past week re-adjusting and re-balancing life- mostly trying to find both my head and my heart. I've learned to appreciate the simplicity that difficult situations inevitably bring. I listened to my children... as in really listened- because I wanted to hear them. Childhood is so fleeting. I cleaned my house, for what seemed like the first time in months. I put thought into healthy meals. And I played. Floating below all of it were the doubts, fears and sadness... but I tried so hard to push them away. (We chose not to tell the pirates any of this, as they didn't even know I was expecting. But I could tell Robs sensed something was going on.) Instead I tried to build on the clarity I knew would come. 

I contemplated everything this past week. I don't think there was a corner of my soul left unscrutinized. My gratitude soared over simple things: my health, my family, my three lovely pirates, and a husband who supports me and makes me laugh. As the book of Matthew suggests... I took time to consider the lilies, which I believe is solid advice. It was wonderful. I also believe, as a God-given friend said, "in a Heavenly Father who makes all things right in the end. If it's not right, it's not the end."  Yes, there are still real worries all over our little house (I suspect they'll always be there)... but to focus on them would be robbing myself of those carefree moments- in which I find strength. 

(vut ever happened to just plain old lavender blue dilly dilly dilly dilly... dilly... silly.)


  1. Beautiful post. Wise friend. Sage advice. All will be right in the end. Love you.

  2. 1. every time I hear professor von drake, I think of you
    2. you are definitely one of the strongest women I know and I'm so grateful for you
    3. I love you, my God-given friend

  3. I love you. I'm just 10 minutes and a green smoothie away.

  4. Oh Christine! My heart aches for you! It's such a sad thing to go through. I don't think you can ever "heal" from something like this. A little piece of your heart will always be missing, and yet we can be so much stronger for having gone through this. I'm so sorry! Thinking of you!