How could I be more proud?

How could I be more proud of you, Ani?
I'm watching you sleep. Did you know you're beautiful?
You must, I tell you every day.
You are living my greatest fear, yet I see courage, I see strength.
Where I think I would feel anger, you laugh and are happy.
Where I think I would feel fear, you show me faith in our God.
Where I would feel disabling pain, you sing through the sobs.
Where I think I might feel like wanting to die, you look at me and somehow manage to say "I love you", with no words. Directly to my heart, giving me the strength to walk along with you.

"Little things" can really last.

I was putting on my dress shoes this morning, and I finally decided to write down what I feel every time I do this.
These shoes were bought and given to me by a close friend so that I could dress up for Nate's funeral.
Now, I'm not sure what "level of importance" my friend attaches to buying me this pair of shoes, but from my perspective, it's a pretty big thing. I remember the time, and I remember the gesture. Every time I scuff these shoes, I feel a little bit guilty, because they have such importance to me. They're quite high quality shoes, so I expect that I'll be remembering this for a long time to come.

An indulgence

I allowed myself to vent some frustration in the car on the way to work this way.
I was thinking that I just wanted to yell a few times.
"I WANT THIS TO BE DIFFERENT!!"
"I WANT ANI TO BE BETTER!!"
I know my God is big enough to handle my frustration.
I'm not angry, just frustrated.

"Out of my mind" by Sharon Draper

You must read this book. I'm only on page 14, and it's just amazing.
It's about a little girl (written when she was nearly 11, through the very small amount of physical control she does have) who was born without the ability to communicate back to the world. Her parents discovered her mental and communicative abilities after many years.

My VP in charge of global R&D suggested this book to me.

I have to stop reading it at work or I'll be crying.

Here's a snippet on page 14:

Everybody uses words to express themselves. Except me. And I bet most people don't realize the real power of words.
But I do.
Thoughts need words. Words need a voice.
I love the smell of my mother's hair after she washes it.
I love the feel of the scratchy stubble on my father's face before he shaves.
But I've never been able to tell them.


This resonates so much with me and talking to Ani.

Sometimes my muscles fail me.

Sometimes strong emotions make me stumble. I was just clearing up stuff, and ran across a bunch of hand-made "Get well" cards that Ani's classmates made for her when she had her hip surgery. My knees buckled and had to catch myself as I felt all the emotion and affection that the kids had shown to Ani.

Joy replacing sorrow?

There was an article a couple of days ago by one of the pastors at our church. He and his wife had lost their adult son. He went on to say that slowly by slowly Joy replaced Sorrow. I'm not sure I agree with that fully. I believe that Joy can _overcome_ or be stronger than Sorrow, but as imperfect beings, I think that Sorrow will always be here with us. I am still sad about Nate. I am still sad about Ani's injuries. I am happy about where Nate is, and that no matter what, Ani will be perfect in heaven, and she and I (and Christy and hopefully Micah) will dance with Nate in praise of God. Though my sorrow is still there, I laugh in pure Joy with Micah and Ani, and the beauty of this world. In a way, it's probably a lot like how we should treat forgiveness. We should strive to a place where God's love and forgiveness through Jesus should overcome and be stronger than our guilt or shame. Certainly we should remember our mistakes and learn from them to not repeat them, but they are part of us. Though guilt and sorrow are part of me, they do not define me.

I'm OK with being sad in the car when I'm alone, because I know where Nate is and where I'm going.
I'm OK with laughing loudly.
I'm OK with getting lost in my singing to Ani.
I'm OK with forgetting about my missteps when I'm playing with Micah.

At this point, my Joy overwhelms my sorrow most of the time. But my sorrow still jumps out and surprises me sometimes.

Dump the icky, strive for the beauty.

Grace is such a difficult concept to receive. As a parent, I understand giving it, but have difficulty receiving it. A recent sermon points me to think that we aren't supposed to wallow in our guilt over things we've done (or are _going_ to do), but to seek God's grace and strive to give the same to our world. I've also been feeling guilty about not practicing my violin since July.

My teacher took the summer off, and I guess that I did too. I had certainly been improving, but maybe not at the rate I wanted? Maybe I expected too much, being a guitarist already, anyway I felt guilty at not practicing more. You can imagine how guilty I felt over not practicing all summer. It's weird, I feel good playing the violin, but there's this resistance I feel. Anyway, I finally confessed to my teacher, and while not saying it, hinted that stopping might be a possibility. Maybe I didn't even realize that I might have been implying that, but my teacher did. She stressed (pun intended) that the violin can be source of peace. I agree. Also, she told me that she thought I had a talent, and actually had shown impressive progress after having just started it in May. All of this kinda melted away the guilt and weight I had. Now I want to play again. She told me that we could structure my lessons to require less outside practice (Micah and Ani wear me out and I just crash at night).

This was just a incredible show of grace. She's certainly not getting rich off of the lessons (they are really quite cheap), she really has a passion for teaching.

So, I don't need to fixate on the ugliness of my mistakes in life, or some of the "ugly sounds" from my violin. I just need to keep going forward.

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