Canyon Trail

There is a house in my heart that is my favorite house.  It is on Canyon Trail and I know I can never go back and see it, because the pictures in my mind are so good, so beautiful that reality would only harm them.  I lived there for a short time when I was around the age of three.  It is a yellow two story with hardwood floors and high ceilings and windows that shout with light.  And I love it.  My memories of the wooden stairs and small kitchen make me feel safe and small and happy.  And I remember the smell of dry leaves there while playing in the carport.  I know I made my first batch of real "candy" with a tall thermometer in that kitchen.  We only lived in that house a few months, a time of transition.  It was never even owned by my parents, but by my godparents.  But it my mind it is what a home should be with simplicity and warmth and classic lines.  No frills or fancy, a little small even....but practical.

As we are looking for a home in Columbia, my children want to go back to our small yellow house in Williamsburg.  They talk about the yellow paint and the red door, and the boys love their "blue room".  And I wonder if that will be the home they always love.  Nothing logical about it...not necessarily where life was more blessed or money was more plentiful.  Just because it is the home in their heart.  

To start....this is a picture of post-nap William.  He is now fulling entering the land of being two, where everything is intense and extreme: the way he runs, his frequent demands, his relentless questions and the way he sleeps.   He sleeps hard and wakes up even harder.  It is a reminder to me that time is passing quickly.  It is the post-nap grumpies that finally encourage a mother to let go of the afternoon nap and quiet and aim for an early bedtime instead.  But it will be the end of a season; the end of forced quiet and being homebound for afternoons.  Naptime can be good for the whole family.  

And this is a picture of my Dansko shoes that fell apart after 15 years.  Yes, fifteen years.  Fifteen years that included walking hospital floors, walking city sidewalks and occasionally through snow.  Years in which I wiped bodily fluids off of them after lots of different exposures and years in which my body was always grateful for 24-36 hrs. of a shoe I could live with.  These were my "doctor" shoes and this week when I put them on, they felt different.   I looked down and saw the gap with saw tooth staples smiling back at me.  It is time; they are finished.  But somehow it feels wrong to throw them away.  They are a piece of that life, one that I have so little material reminders of any more.  Soaked with fluids of patients I cared for, babies I delivered....it is a shoe tied to the lives of others.

The very same day these shoes fell apart, I had a strange reminder of the medical world.  I went to see a new dermatologist, well recommended by local friends.  And she was a strange reflection of the world, the life I decided not to pursue.  She is within a year of my age.  She is beautiful and professional with four small children, the oldest also 8 years old.  She is married to a doctor and has a full time nanny.  We talked and as her eyes and fingers graced over my moles and bumps she asked about my life.  But how do you do it? Do you have a babysitter?  What does your husband do?  I could hear the confusion in her voice: you chose this?  And quite honestly, with a paper towel dress wrapped around my shoulders, I was not sure why I walked away from her world; from the independence of respect and income.  A woman with jeans on and a toddler on her hip does not often have people that wait to hear her opinion on a matter.  I do miss walking fast and having a reason, other than my personal pleasure, to have a phone.  Or knowing that I needed my clothes to match the level of my intellect.  (perhaps they do now!)  But after our short visit, she stayed at her office.  Just like she is at that office most of the week.  And I went home.  And I read books and got hugs and made lunch.  And that is the choice I feel very lucky to make for today..  

Hannah's songs

Lately Hannah asks to sing me a song at night after I have tucked her in.  Who could refuse such an offer?  She sings and brushes my hair and face with her fingers making up words and a tune as well.  Her songs are always different, but they are all some variation of:
Santa come soon,
come tomorrow and bring presents
I love Christmas and fun and presents
I love you Mommy
Jesus loves you
She sings with a soft high voice that echoes the good news of which she is sharing.  At first, I wanted to correct her that life is not only Christmas and Santa; there is so much more.  But then I realized, if she doesn't see more of the good, it is only a reflection of the small picture we have shown to her of the good. We have been studying the book of James at church and thinking through sufferings with a small "s" and sufferings with a big "S" in life.  I have found that just like my children I want to sing of Santa and presents and good times.  And while this is good, there are minor chords in life as well.  James teaches that God is with me and has His good for me, even on the days that are not Christmas and presents....which is a good 363 days of the year.  Hannah's singing at night sure makes it feel like Christmas every day to Mommy though.  May I be grateful for His presence with me on the non-holi-days.

Thinking thoughts....

Words:
William when I got him up from his afternoon nap:  "Mommy, the sun brightened me and I woke up."
Henry's persistent word for nightmares: night dreams.  "Mom, I had a bad night dream."

A picture:
Caroline and Henry, 15 months apart in age, sitting and laughing in the back seat of the van.  She is the only one with whom he has no shame, no embarassment, no striving.  He rests in her company and she in his.

We are looking at houses and trying to find one.  Another move.  But to something older, smaller, closer, cheaper.  We are hoping to be true to us, to our calling as a family.  It may need paint, perhaps an appliance or two? We feel good about moving despite the unknowns...hopeful that He has gone before us to a place where we can really settle in.  Perhaps that is why I didn't send out "we've moved" cards?  I was not really settled here?  We are glad to be in Columbia and hoping to find a section of this area that is a little more like us....a few more chinks, some work to be done, lots of outdoors trying to creep in...