Open

On our second night here in the Philippines I woke up feeling rather warm. Our a/c was blasting, but the door was open and so the cold air was leaking out into the hall.

This is the same door I securely latched and locked from the inside before being the last person to get into bed. I even wondered to myself while I was locking the door about what kind of metal the latch was comprised of. For the record, the latch is out of Theo's reach (designed that way so he can't get out and climb on the not-childproof stairs.)

I wasn't freaked out at first. After a few minutes I began to wonder how the heck it became unlocked from the inside with no wind and nobody opening it (neither Dan or I sleepwalk, and we were safely ensconced underneath the covers when I woke up) and so I looked in all closets, verified that all our stuff and persons were present, and then promptly went back to sleep.

The next morning I found out that Theo dreamt he and Vincent were playing together with a big white balloon. Theo said he felt "happy and proud" and that Vincent was "getting bigger" and he can "almost" walk.

So I think that Vincent and his baby-sitting angel came to see us. I know he didn't need to physically unlock the door, but I think it was a message letting us know that something special happened, that someone was there.

I know, it sounds weird. But Vincent's as real as you or me, and of course he's going to visit us. Night is a perfect time since I'm usually not raging or crying in my sleep, so he can visit me without seeing my pain. In fact, I'm told by my hubby that I look rather happy as I sleep. I'd love for Vincent to see me at my best, even if it's when I'm sleeping.

Maybe next time I can even join in the balloon game.

Siblings

These past few weeks our three and a half year old, Theo, has been having a difficult time.  I might have mentioned recently how he talks about Vincent all throughout the day, how he wants to be in heaven too, and how he wants to see Vincent and play with him.  He's been very lonely.

Then he asks me if I can have a baby in my tummy like Aunty Marti (one of our very-pregnant friends!) Or he'll point at pregnant people at the store and say, "I want you to have a baby like them." He really, really wants another sibling.

Or a pet. 

Since the pet is out of the question (seriously folks, we're awful, awful pet people!) that doesn't leave many other options. 

Dan and I have been talking about trying to have another baby for quite some time now.  I'm finally ready to start trying, fully knowing that this potential baby will in no way ever be able to replace the ache of losing Vincent.  In fact, I know that having another child could in fact make us miss Vincent more, if that's even possible.  But it could be healing as well, holding and loving another child, knowing that our family will be less empty as our nest fills up.  We'd be able to watch the kiddies interact with each other.  And once again we would have the pleasure of squeezing two car seats into the back of our Nissan Altima.     

Our family has had many things taken from it.  First we lost Vincent, then we lost our captured memories of him on our computers and cameras.  

Perhaps it's time we started adding to our family.  

...But first I have to have a darn mammogram.  

Turns out my body has refused to accept that Vincent is dead, and each month around the anniversary of his death it starts acting crazy.  My doctor ordered a mammogram for May 9th just to be sure everything's OK.  Woohoo.  I'm 11 years away from the age of 40 and never thought I'd be undergoing uncomfortable medical procedures like mammograms at this age! 

Then again, I'm sure there are many things in each of our journeys we never thought we'd be doing.  

Torn

Last night I spent a bunch of time reading a really sweet blog written by a mom of six kids.  She's also a great photographer.  As I was reading her blog filled with references to her home-schooling, bread-making, beautifying, and crafting, I realized I was feeling envious.

You see, I really love crafty homeschooling moms, who spend their stay-at-home days educating hordes of well-behaved children, baking whole wheat bread from grain they've personally ground, beautifying their spacious houses so they look like something from an Anthropologie store, sewing gorgeous dresses and crafting cloth books and woolen scarfs while watching period dramas to their hearts content with a glass of raw milk in hand.  I love these families, and I'd love my kids to grow up this way.

But there are significant factors that preclude me from following such a path.  My husband and I are Christian egalitarians (we believe giftings and callings are not given strictly according to gender) and consequently take issue with the gender restrictions espoused by some of those I admire. This doesn't keep us from being great friends with them, just from becoming exactly like them.  I often feel constrained and concerned by their view of the world, their treatment of women.

There's also this pesky little factor called cost-of-living. I live in a semi-urban, super expensive part of the country where one spouse's middle-class income is seldom enough to meet basic living expenses if the other spouse isn't also working. No wonder so many people in Hawaii live with their parents (or homes inherited from their relatives).  Plus, I have dreams for myself.  There are skills I hope to continue developing.  I aspire to write, speak, travel.  I want to make a difference in the world, not only in my home.

It's hard for me to reconcile these two parts of myself.  I guess you could say that I'm part Stepford wife, part Eleanor Roosevelt.

Perhaps I will become a different breed of mom—one who works and stays home, votes liberal (much of the time, sorry mom!) deeply values her responsibilities in the home and sews up a storm, yet has no problem with shopping online too.  Perhaps one day I will get my chance to resurface old furniture, decorate my own house, fill it with happily learning children, and still be able to travel, speak, and write on the subjects so dear to my heart.

I'll admit this sounds highly unrealistic.   Realistic for me right now is laying in bed for hours every day, letting my sole child spend eons of time on the iPad.  What sounds realistic is snapping at my husband as he gets home from a long day.  What sounds realistic is the sound of the microwave chirping at me, reminding me the burrito inside has been warmed and is ready to be consumed.

What I want is someone to take care of me.  I wish God would appear in my house like a kind grandmother, clean it up, do my laundry, make a fantastic meal from locally grown ingredients, and then do the dishes afterwards.  I'd bare my soul talking and crying with him as he makes chocolate chip cookies and blueberry muffins.  Then we'd sit on the bar stools in the kitchen, sipping tea or coffee together (or wine if that's what He wants.)  That all sounds great.  (hmm.. It also sounds like "The Shack.")

During his dark night of the soul, the Biblical character Job, having lost all his children and possessions, challenges God to come down and answer for Himself.  Job demands an account of why God has allowed him to experience such deep, comprehensive suffering.  And when God finally surfaces, he does so in dramatic fashion, giving long-winded accounts of his creative power and accomplishments.  Job stops asking his questions when he sees the glory and wonder of God and is content to simply be in His presence.  Like Job, I sometimes wish God would show up to answer for Himself.  I have some questions too, namely, why?  Where are you?  Show yourself!  And while you're at it, can you stop by my house and make me some chocolate chip cookies?

I guess what I really want right now is to be mothered and cared for with nothing expected of me other than just showing up.  I just wish it wasn't too much to ask for.

Dreams

Two nights ago Theo had some really bad nightmares.  He woke me up yelling "Vincent!  Vincent!" and his blankie was wet with tears.  He slept in our bed the rest of the night.  The next morning he slept in rather late, and when he finally woke up I asked him what his bad dream was about.   Apparently he dreamt that hordes of bugs were coming after him.

Not sure how Vincent fit into that dream.

So I took Theo into my arms, and rocked him while praying blessing, peace and safety over him.  When I was done, I told him that maybe one day he'd be able to have dreams of Jesus.

"But I did dream of Jesus!"

"What?? Last night??"

Apparently after his nightmare Theo dreamt that he and Vincent were in our car, buckled into their car seats in the back.  Nobody was driving the car, but it was moving.  Dan and I were nowhere around.  (sounds like a nightmare, right?)  But then Jesus got into the car and started driving.

I asked him how he felt in the dream.

He breathed a dramatic sigh of relief.  "Sooo happy!!"

That was a good dream.

So my prayer for you, for me, and for Theo is that when we're feeling lost and abandoned, may Jesus direct us to our heart's true home.  And when it feels that our lives are on the fast track to nowhere, when it feels that we're riding in a driver-less car, may our distress be turned to joy at the sight of Jesus' face.