little things

Today's little things are actually quite big to me! This will be a long-ish post. I hope you'll stick with me.

First, the little things:

1. Seeing a big, fat robin preening himself on the fence around our side yard. I just stood and watched him for about a minute. There are also little, tiny blue flowers growing at the bottom of the fence - I will have to take a picture for you.
2. Holding my husband's hand in the car. Something extra safe and secure about that - no seatbelt could ever make me feel so protected.
3. Sunshine streaming through closed blinds - the promise of another pretty summer day
4. Unlimited access to clean drinking water and to a fully functional bathroom. And nice-smelling soap and soft towels. This is high priority for pregnant women.
5. Friends that care to check in on me and find out how I really am
6. Fresh blueberries from the public market - directly from the farmer who grew 'em. So sweet.
7. Maternity Shorts. Capital. What a wonderful idea to put a soft, stretchy panel in a cute pair of dark denim Bermudas. And thank you to the sweet woman who dropped them off at the thrift store instead of the pricier consignment shop across the street.
8. Feeling our baby boy move - little kicks and punches that feel like bubble wrap bursting in my belly.
9. Reassuring doctors who take time out of their vacations to update us on test results
10. Knowing that our baby's genetic tests show that he's normal and healthy

The last three "little things" have been huge to hubby and me this past week. Exactly a week ago today, I went to the follow-up appointment with my ob/gyn after my 19 week sonogram a week before (two weeks ago today). Everything had looked great on the sonogram - the technician called what she saw "textbook" for development, commenting again and again on how well kidneys, heart, brain, bones, and even the umbilical cord were formed. We were confident that Baby was doing great - wiggling, kicking, scrunching his little fists, and making faces. I left the sonogram and had a routine blood test done, feeling happy about our little one and never doubting that anything could be wrong with our precious boy.

So, at the follow-up appointment, my doctor came in the room to discuss the blood test results. All of my other test results have been normal thus far, and I have no predicting factors for making this one any different - but it was. This was the "quad screen" test, which looks for levels of different proteins that serve as potential markers for physical abnormalities in the developing baby. My test came back with low levels of a certain protein, which indicated that I had an increased risk of having a baby with Down's syndrome. Evidently, the normal risk factor for a woman my age is something like 1 in 950, and mine was calculated at 1 in 250...about the risk for a woman 10 years older than me.

I'm pretty sure my heart went into overdrive. The rest of the visit - listening to the statistics, hearing the baby's heartbeat (normal rate), carrying the paperwork to the check-out desk - all of it is a blur, except for this clear, strong voice in my head that said, just once, "he doesn't have it." I had been praying the whole time, and trying so hard not to cry. I'm pretty sure I was pale.  My ob/gyn made a call to the specialist immediately, and got me an appointment for just two days later instead of the two weeks I would normally have to wait. I was thankful for that. I told him so.

I made it all the way through the grocery store and back home before I cried. I left a message for hubby to call me - and then I spent most of the next two days crying. And praying. And trying so hard to believe the voice I heard. Wanting to hope, wanting to know, wanting to believe - but so afraid that if I did, I would be wrong. It was so hard to trust. I spent hours reading the psalms, trying to sing, and throwing myself into housework so I wouldn't cry. I felt Baby move more often in those two days than I have before - I wonder if he could feel how stressed and worried I felt. I'm pretty sure I ate healthy foods, but I don't really remember. There are still chips left and the salad is gone, so I guess I did.

On Thursday last week, we went to see the specialist. Hubby got a couple hours off of work to come with me (we're sharing a car right now), and I was so glad to have him with me. The specialist looked over our ultrasound pictures again, and reassured us that he believed that Baby was one of the 249 babies without DS, not the one with the extra copies of chromosomes (for that's what causes Down's - it's having multiple copies of the smallest chromosome). He explained all the physical markers and showed us that our baby did not have those physical signs - that everything looked normal. He said this knowledge, along with our other previously normal-looking tests, added up to a risk that was probably closer to 1 in 400 - but still a risk. Do you know how comforting the word "normal" is?

The specialist gave us three options to consider. 1. Wait until the baby is born to know for sure, 2. have an expensive, not paid by insurance, brand-new-in-the-last-6-months blood test done to analyze my DNA and the fragments of baby's DNA in my blood - an almost definitive yes or no, or 3. Have an insurance-covered amniocentesis done: a definitive test. The first two options both carried some what-ifs. What if we didn't know about the disorder, and baby had it? That could complicate the birth process, for one, and leave us a bit unprepared for what laid ahead. What if the blood test said he had DS, but he was born normal and healthy? We'd worry and prepare for no reason. The only definitive answer would be from the amniocentesis - and that procedure carries with it the risk of miscarriage - about 1 in 400.

The specialist left us for a few minutes to talk and consider what to do. I almost burst into tears when he left, but hubby was holding my hand. We talked about the risks, and decided that we needed to know if Baby was okay. We told the doctor that we would do the amniocentesis, I signed paperwork, and hubby had to go back to work. I texted a friend to come and pick me up from the procedure - she was wonderful to come and get me.

The procedure for an amniocentesis involves drawing a few tablespoons of fluid out of the amniotic sac around the Baby. The needle goes through the mother's stomach and, guided by ultrasound, into an area where Baby isn't going to be inside the fluid sac. I couldn't watch. It only hurt a little at the insertion point, and it was over quickly. They checked Baby's heart rate afterward, and it was normal. He was wiggly as usual. I was so very emotionally and physically tired. I walked slowly to the door of the hospital, rode home, thanked my friend, and slept for two hours on the couch. Baby was kicking like crazy - that felt reassuring to me.

And then we waited. The specialist promised to call us with results on Monday, even though he would be on vacation all this week. Friday was a long, long day! I don't remember much of Saturday, except going to the market with a friend. I think I slept a lot. Sunday, we prayed, worshiped, sang, and heard a sermon about the dangers of pride, of self-reliance - the danger of not trusting God. We held hands, and prayed that God had made our baby perfectly, that there had been no "mistake" in chromosome copies, that he was healthy and normal. We were scared, but thankful for the specialist's confidence.

Monday, I waited almost all day, until the call came a bit after 4pm. I picked up the phone, my heart racing, blood pumping in my ears. "Good news," the specialist said, "your baby does not have Down's syndrome." There will be further analysis of his genetic material, but this big question is answered. The doctor is confident that no other disorders will be revealed. Baby looks healthy and normal. He doesn't have a major chromosomal disorder. We are so relieved! And thankful. And full of love for our gracious God and our tiny Little One.

We went out to dinner to celebrate (with a gift card, of course) our little (BIG!) blessing. May we never take for granted that our boy will be able to eat well, sleep well, fill a diaper well, learn to use the potty without trouble, speak well, think well, run well, play well, get messy, make mistakes, make friends, learn quickly, play an instrument, go to college, get married, and have a family. May we remember that normal life - normal, everyday, sticky mess filled, auto-pilot life - is a blessing.

So thankful for the little things, and for our Little One. Full of joy!

thanks for today, bright hope for tomorrow

The first pumpkin pie of the season, from scratch, of course.

"...blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside." From the hymn Great is Thy Faithfulness - and God's faithfulness to us has truly been great.

Early this week, my husband was just hired at a new job! He had been out of work for exactly six months, and God provided for our needs in every bit of that "desert" time. Like the Israelites who spent 40 years in the desert after their flight from Egypt, our shoes and clothes did not wear out, we did not go hungry, and God blessed us beyond our need. Friends sent anonymous checks. The insurance money from my February accident paid for six months of bills. A couple we barely know felt led to give us their 2003 Jeep. For free. I found a three-week job teaching music. We celebrated our third anniversary. We were able to pay for my third semester of grad school, out of pocket, without taking another loan. My textbooks were mercifully inexpensive. We haven't had any medical bills. There have been no more accidents. We had the money to replace a cracked radiator in one of the cars. He has been faithful to us.

And He has given us hope for tomorrow. Hubby's new job is in a city with many possibilities for me as a music teacher. The position is one where he has set hours, the possibility of twice-a-year raises in his salary, and it's a positive work environment. The new apartments he has been looking at in the area seem nice, and the people seem friendly. This will mean a challenge for us in some ways, but there's a light at the end of the tunnel: graduation is coming. In another six months, I will have completed my degree. We can look for a more permanent place to live. We can build more permanent ties with a church and community. We can even (perhaps!) begin a family together. There is hope for tomorrow.

Here are some things I took joy in today:

We live in a place with so much beauty!

A walk along our road...

...the beautiful repeating pattern of thistles
and the star-shaped skeletons of summer's flowerseven dried-out corn has some sort of beauty, poetry to it - And who but God could have dreamed of rainbow colored leaves?
Just beautiful.

decisions for a new year

being an adult is a lot harder than I thought.

For instance, this week I need to decide whether or not completing my Master's degree is worthwhile and practical, and if it is feasible. Our financial situation makes it difficult to swing this - something needs to go.

The drastic option:

1. find teaching jobs for one or both of us outside this state, break our lease and utility contracts, withdraw from school, move. This means I probably will not have the opportunity to finish my degree, and I know I'll regret that, even though grad school is the most challenging experience I've had yet. It also means that we could possibly start a family sooner than we thought - something I've wanted my whole life. Is this the door to a dream come true? It's definitely near-instant relief for our fears and struggles. Or is this a foolish decision we would make out of fear? Does this betray a lack of trust in God's promise to provide for our needs? (Is a Master's degree a need? Yes, if we stay in this state... but only if I'm going to actually teach)

The difficult, but possibly viable options:

1. find a better job for my husband. Better = closer, at least the same pay, more normal hours, full time. It would be amazing if this was also in his field.
2. take on a part time job myself in addition to grad school and my assistantship work. I really don't know how that's possible, but I'll try. Perhaps I will be more aggressive at recruiting piano students, and build an income from that. I don't have the time to make a home-based business on a site like etsy possible. That would take too much away from my grad studies.
3. be humble enough to ask, beg, plead for more money to be added to my tuition remission scholarship. I have an appointment to talk about this with the dean of the school on Wednesday.
4. ask our parents for loans. I don't really want to do this, since we already owe them money and we've had to begin payments on my husband's school loans. I also hate the idea of going further into debt.
5. sell stuff. There's some crystal I got for wedding presents that I really don't love. Someone else might... I have some clothes that could go, even though I struggle to get rid of them. See this post as a miniature explanation of my collections. I also have a collection of winter accessories, shoes, jewelry, and craft supplies. I am a skilled knitter, cook, and scrapbooker. Perhaps someone would pay me for this?

Anyway, I feel like I'm having a real crisis. I laid awake for hours last night, I can't focus today, and I'm pretty sure I'll cry if I have to talk to anyone about this.

I really want to finish school. Here's why:

1. The degree allows me to teach permanently in this state, which is as close to a guarantee of income as I can get without actually having a job right now.
2. The degree is helping me to grow personally and musically and giving me the skills to be a better leader, teacher, researcher, learner, and professional.
3. The degree is seen as the culminating point of studies for most people in my field. Those that go on seal their fates as collegiate employees or overqualified high school teachers that districts fear to employ (a higher salary? oh no! next applicant). I would enjoy being a professor if it could be well balanced with having a family. I have yet to meet a female professor whose children are well behaved, well adjusted socially, and generally pleasant to be around.
4. I enjoy preparing a score, learning new music, teaching students, and conducting. Teaching and seeing growth, however, is my primary motivator. I am happiest when I have just spent a half hour as a piano teacher or a vocal coach. I wonder if I will learn enough to inspire and effect greater change in my choristers as well. Past choral students of mine seem to have been encouraged by the changes and growth they've made. I want to do better at this.
5. I have never quit anything except for 3rd grade softball and 12th grade calculus (because my teacher hadn't taught it in the past 6 years and because I knew I didn't need it for my upcoming music education degree). I am not a quitter. I finish what I start, and I do well - my best possible. Withdrawal now would be a huge personal crisis for me. Could that be beneficial? Perhaps, but it's not what I want to choose.
6. Did I mention that I love teaching? I like setting the schedule, organizing the rehearsal, and being responsible for the music education of young people.

I also really want a family. Here's why:

1. I love being at home. It's happy, it's ours, and I get to pick what's in it, where it goes, and what color it is (usually). I don't mind laundry, cooking, or cleaning, though I do like to have help sometimes. I love gardening, working outside, and being with the people I love.
2. I have wanted to be a mommy since I was old enough to hold a dolly. I soon realized that most people don't think the answer to "What do you want to be when you grow up, Linnea?" should be "A Mommy!" but should be something respectable like a teacher, doctor, pastor, physicist, engineer, veterinarian, changetheworldian. Especially with my early-detected "giftedness," I should be something great. I'm pretty sure I disappointed some people by choosing to be a musician, since, of course, they don't need to do any academic work, right? Pardon me while I laugh a bit.
3. I love children. I love finding teachable moments - especially moments to teach about faith, music, and manners. I don't mind tempera paint on my sleeve and spitup on my pants (at least temporarily). Diapers don't scare me, and finding crushed Cheerios in the car seat doesn't bother me. I can handle infant twins, a 3 year old, and a 5 year old all by myself, at the same time. I can make a meal or mix up formula with a baby on my hip. I can plan a meal that's ready in 15 minutes. I can orchestrate bedtime for four. I'm okay with not having a shower, not getting my hair done, and wearing the same clothes twice...or three times.
4. I love my husband. I want to build a family with him that honors God and brings joy both to us and our parents. I want to strengthen the bond that is this marriage, this family unit. There are other ways to do this than having children, granted.
5. I am already 25. I would like to not be 50 when my children are graduating from college so that I can jump for joy at their successes.
6. I am incredibly tired of birth control pills. It's annoying and disruptive to my emotional and physical well-being.
7. It just seems like the right thing for a married Christian woman to do - serve and bring honor to her husband, God, and herself, work hard to earn an income, have children. Read Proverbs 31 and the command to "be fruitful and multiply" if you need to confirm this.


So this is what I'm considering. Pray for me?

And on a lighter note, here's a snowman I made on our one 45 degree January day:

who's the crazy?

I am. I have been running around like crazy, and have lost 2 lbs without trying. That's great, right? ha.

this has been a very very long week.

On Monday, the choir began rehearsing in our performance space. Not too big of a deal, except that we needed to use the timpani, chimes, and suspended cymbal from the band room. For those of you that don't know, moving percussion from the band room means crossing five doorways, each of which has a bar in the middle that must be removed to transport these large instruments. Then each instrument must be lifted up the five stairs of the stage and rolled to their proper positions. This is a monumental task, and I had it accomplished with the help of other choir members for rehearsal on Monday morning, and left things in place for Tuesday morning.

What I didn't realize is that the instrumental ensembles also needed these instruments for their daily rehearsals in the afternoons. I had assumed that the choir director had secured the use of these instruments, and that there would not be a need for me to worry about that. So wrong.

And the instrumental ensemble director was very upset!

Long story short, it was a week of moving instruments back and forth.

My other major duty this week was to assign choir robes to each choir member. In that process, I discovered that previous assistants had made a mess of the hemlines on the robes, and that many of the robes have to be repaired - re-installing zippers, fixing seams, sewing pleats back in place - all in fine, heavy velvet. I started by measuring all the robe lengths, and found that only a handful of these 80 robes remain at the length they were when they were shipped from the factory. Most have been hemmed to varied lengths to accommodate the people who previously wore them. A few issues with this:1. some were hemmed with fusible webbing, a type of glue that is ironed on to keep a hem in place while it's sewn. However, this glue does not come off of the fine velvet fabric and leaves white dots all over it. When a hem is taken out for a taller person, the glue shows! So frustrating. 2. Other robes seem to have been hemmed without an accurate measurement all the way around, leaving the front too high and the back too low, or some combination of that. 3. Another robe or two has actually had fabric cut off the bottom of it. Problem! This is very expensive fabric. You don't just cut it to make it two inches shorter.

It should have been a rather easy task to assign robes, simply getting a record of the choristers' heights, and giving a robe of the appropriate (approximate) length, within the S, M, L, XL, and XXL sizes. It looks best if everyone's robe is about the same length off the ground, within 1 inch either direction. It's okay with me if this is not perfect. It just has to be something that they're not going to trip on that is about mid-calf length. But it wasn't easy. And I assigned some robes to two different people.

This week also involved memorizing 40 minutes of music for the concert, along with the rest of the choir. Not an easy task for me, but one I accomplished. Yay!

At the same time, I had a few assignments to finish. One of these stands out as a first in my academic lifetime - I actually didn't read the instructions thoroughly, and missed two major parts of the assignment. I realized this just minutes before it was due, and couldn't finish it that day either. Why? Oh, because someone had used the very reference book I needed and left it in his library carrel instead of returning it to a reshelving rack or to the shelf where it belonged. The main librarian and I searched for an hour before we found the book. At that point, I had another commitment and couldn't complete it. I arrived home, had dinner, and planned to return to the library, only to find that my car wouldn't start. Problem!


I eventually finished the assignment the next afternoon, 25 hours late and I'm not sure it's the correct information. However, it's done, my professor seemed understanding, and I'm not going to dwell on it. (whew)

This week was also my husband's first week at his new job, which is from 10am to 11pm four days of the week. We would like to have some awake time together, so I had been planning to nap during the afternoons and stay up to greet him when he gets home. Somewhere in that plan, I missed the nap part a few of these days, and have been suffering for it. 7:00am comes way too early!

Now it's finally the weekend, and I've been struggling all day to find pertinent information for my 50-minute research presentation on Wednesday. Should I have started earlier? Probably, yes. Could I? I don't think I could have handled it this week!

Positives from the week: My husband loves me. I read my Bible every day except one. I brought flowers from my garden in to my desk at school. I ran a mile in 40 seconds less than my time last week. I got a lovely package of autumn things from my mother-in-law. My husband actually has a job! My car is not permanently on the fritz. I got three loads of laundry done. I vacuumed most of the house. My kitties have had food, water, and a cleaned litter box (at least once a day).

And God has a plan.

thanks for all Thou dost provide

Father, do not forget me.

When I'm incredibly grateful and words fail, this song often comes to mind:

"Thanks to God for my Redeemer,
Thanks for all Thou dost provide!
Thanks for times now but a memory,
Thanks for Jesus by my side!
Thanks for pleasant, balmy springtime,
Thanks for dark and stormy fall!
Thanks for tears by now forgotten,
Thanks for peace within my soul!

Thanks for prayers that Thou hast answered,
Thanks for what Thou dost deny!
Thanks for storms that I have weathered,
Thanks for all Thou dost supply!
Thanks for pain, and thanks for pleasure,
Thanks for comfort in despair!
Thanks for grace that none can measure,
Thanks for love beyond compare!

Thanks for roses by the wayside,
Thanks for thorns their stems contain!
Thanks for home and thanks for fireside,
Thanks for hope, that sweet refrain!
Thanks for joy and thanks for sorrow,
Thanks for heav’nly peace with Thee!
Thanks for hope in the tomorrow,
Thanks through all eternity!"

The words were written by August L. Storm, a native of Sweden. The song was carried to the United States by Swedish immigrants, one of whom was Carl Backstrom. He translated the lyrics to English, and the song became a frequent choice in the Swedish Mission Covenant churches.

My own great-grandparents were Swedish immigrants, and this is one of the songs that they held dear. I count it a treasure to sing the same words and to worship the same unchanging God who daily supplies all our needs, through my joy and through my tears.

fresh m&m's

taste better than older ones.

go figure. it's my opinion that they always taste best out of the individual-size bags, but since i eat only a few at a time, they don't stay wonderful for long. still good, but not fantastic.

mmm.

we're enjoying the "warm" weather in our little city - highs in the 50's today. (Farenheit, that is.) tomorrow will be much colder, and only in the 20's, so it's a welcome break.

We visited my in-laws and their church a couple weeks ago, and the pastor always distributes a scripture reading plan that goes along with his sermon that week. The verse to memorize was this:
"Look to the Lord and His strength; seek His face always." ~Psalm 105:4

And it has been very helpful to me. There is no time in my life that I have needed strength and wisdom more than now, and I'm so thankful that I have God to rely on. I really can't do this all by myself.

insurance stinks

i'm not going to bore you with the details of our policy, but it comes down to this: we're not covered for the stuff we need, and we don't have the money to pay out of pocket. we just bought a car, we have very little savings, our apartment is expensive (but good for our area), and i don't know how we're going to make it.

i'm feeling really frustrated, especially with the insurance company and the school through which we purchased the insurance. i had no idea that we wouldn't be able to have this covered for the duration of the policy - i had been told that it would be. so frustrated.

tomorrow, it's my plan to call the school's health center and to find out if anyone has been mistaken, and if there's a way to cover more of our costs. i hate this.

however, i am thankful for safety. and for food to eat, a home to live in, my dear husband, and the opportunity he has to study here. i am thankful above all for the grace of my God, who always provides for me.

i'm going to rest in that.

on love, conflict, and sacrifice

remember the orange berries i found last week?
they shed their little orange skins and reveal a red berry on the inside!

you know how sometimes two people just don't agree on what is good art? that happened to me over the weekend. and it was very personal, since what we were disagreeing on was the proper way to treat and arrange the photos from my wedding. the photographer thinks it looks great arranged this way, and we discovered our fundamental difference: abstract/minimalism vs. concrete/realism. in short, she'll re-do a few pages for us, but the rest will stay the same. it's a good thing we are both people who like to serve and want to make the other person happy, because this could have been really ugly. conflict is not one of my favorite things.

speaking of conflict, one thing that really bothers me is when i've been alone all day, and my husband comes home and wants to sit at his computer without speaking to me for the whole evening. oh, wait. we do have dinner together, so i should be happy, right? i understand that he's had a long day at school and that he needs alone time. it's just really hard for me to give that to him when i've been alone all day. is this what sacrifice and real love is about for me? does this mean that i need to let go of my desires and let his be first in the picture? it's a hard balance. i have needs, too. i'm battling a cold, but i still have to cook, clean, pay bills, balance the budget, make cookies for next week's luncheon (see the picture i posted), and finish the sweater he's been bugging me to complete. at the same time, i need to make his lunch (i guess he could do that, but he doesn't), be sure i don't talk to him too much while he's researching, and try not to cry when he leaves at 11:15pm to get another new video game that we probably don't have the money for, when all i wanted was to have him hold me as i fall asleep.

i'm enjoying the leaf-filtered autumn sun spilling through my sliding glass door onto my coffee table . it just barely lights up the faces of my Willow Tree statue. it's a carving of a couple in love, with his arms around her waist, and her face upturned to look at his, and her hand gently cradling his cheek. i love my husband like that. i am his, and he is mine. i have promised to always love, honor, and cherish him. with God's help and strength, i will. i know he loves me, too, and that this season will not last. i know he's doing everything he can to balance doing well in school and being the man he needs to be at home. it's not an easy job, and i need to support him. God, give me the strength to accomplish these things in your time, with your patience, and in your way.