beauty among the brown.

Today was an early Michigan Spring that begged us all outside.

For me, springtime absolutely takes the cake when it comes to the 4 seasons we experience here in the midwest and I take special delight in its arrival signs.   The first weed in the garden,  my first robin sighting,  and oh, the rejoicing when I first lay eyes on a blooming daffodil!

Last week, as a family we journeyed to spend a week in Florida.  I marveled the whole trip down.  Each state greener than the last as the temperatures rose and the clouds cleared.   Usually, about Virginia I find my daffodils.
I squeal, "there they are!" and my family teases me for the rest of the trip.
It's not quite the same on the trek back home.  Not so much marveling as mourning as we cross state lines back to Michigan. It's remarkable, really. The closer we get to the Mitten the cloudier and browner it gets.  Last year,  and I am not kidding -- the moment we passed the border to our home state,  it started raining.   5 years ago when we returned from a Spring Break trip a storm would come to pass in our lives.

Today I was neck deep in post vacation laundry chaos but finally made it out of my robe at noon to go outside to hang a couple of white shirts on the clothesline. I glanced around looking for emerging signs of life and suddenly remembered the special daffs that grew rogue amongst the brush and tangle behind the shed.   I couldn't find them at first and felt a bit desperate.  So special these daffodils because of the year my daughter Joy discovered them and came running into the house to gift them to me.
"They just have to be here" I thought.
And then I spotted them.
I was filled with gratitude.  As long as the earth endures!
Life bursting up through last year's death.
For me, among many things in the last 5 years, daffodils have been a symbol of God's goodness.
His sovereignty.
His grace.
His love.

5 years ago this night I was quietly admitted to the hospital and we numbly waited on my delivery of our 5th baby who was still, who had passed in my womb. We named her April. I don't think my typed words can rightly express how wonderful and beautifully made she was, how loved she is, and how painful it was. I speak of the pain in somewhat past tense as 5 years has given us much healing and hindsight. It's all I wanted back then, you know... to rush to the future, to restoration, back to the normal. But time does not speed nor slow. In this life we are given sorrow but promised that good will come from it. Friends,  so much good has come, I have been taught so much.  We are grateful.  Let's go out for coffee and I will tell you all about it.

That day, much like today Spring had sprung all around but I couldn't see it through my swollen eyes and broken heart.  Today I see. I trusted through the hurt that each new Spring, when the daffodils blossomed -  I'd know God's grace in greater measure.  The only way to move forward after you've handed over your lifeless baby to a nurse only to go home empty 5 minutes later, is to continue to lay it all down at the feet of Christ. The months and years went by and He is faithful.
My challenge, my lifeline during these times of trial is to see the gifts God gives,  trust His sufficiency, and rest in His love.

God can bring New Life to the hopeless heart.
His Grace is certain and His Salvation sure.
He will display beauty among the brown.

April's Story

Ham on Buns.

Sometimes I'm so oddly conscious of things that some folks might not give a first thought to... much less a second thought or a 15th thought.   Often, it bugs me that I'm this way.  Sometimes it's exactly how I grow...

My first unsettled experience with ham-on-buns came about 17 years ago.

Wait.   Ham-on-buns, you (did or did not) ask?

In the mid-western,  religious, Dutch influenced culture where I've grown up, life events most always involve food.   Okay,  food at life events aren't just ritual in our little corner,  but ham-on-buns may just be.   As my life has been filled with weddings, baptisms, graduations, and funerals-- often included like part of the family is the tray of lunch meat on buttered rolls (buns) and starchy side dishes.   
Ham-on-buns.  It's what's for dinner. 

Okay, back to the story. 

I was 20 and my paternal grandmother had passed away. Following the funeral service I watched my male cousins carry and lift the casket gently into the hearse.   

A touching moment. 

Witnessing my older, tall  and normally jovial cousins visibly and audibly emotional was uncomfortable.   
And sad.  
And good.   But it didn't last long.   
I sensed there was but a brief window for that kind of emotional let go, as moments later we were being quietly instructed to go to the basement for lunch. 

"What!??"  I thought.   "How am I supposed to feel this kind of sorrow one minute and indifferently slather mayo on a sandwich, the next?" 

No way.

I'd dare to assume at this point most normal people would be anxious to move things along.  Grief is not an enjoyable state,  eating lunch is.  But as I sat there staring at the foam plate and bakery bun,  I was somber and silent.    17 years ago, I found absolutely no value in the post funeral luncheon.  

And then we went home.

Early this spring my paternal grandfather (Gramps) entered his eternal home and many of the same scenes and faces from Grandma's funeral were present at his.  It was, in part a thankful celebration.  Of the life he lived and loved,  and of God's faithfulness to our ever growing family-- of Jesus' redemption in Grandpa's life. 

  

All of the great times,  the painful times,  the strong as well as strained relationships were brought to the first five rows of church pews that morning.  We lifted our voices in "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" and it will go down as one of the most precious moments of my life.  

Following the service and recessional I felt the now familiar inner struggle welling up.  Slip away and grieve, or line up for ham?   I hugged my Dad, my husband, my brother.  I could have stayed there all day.   Then from the corner of my eye I saw my eldest daughter embrace my mom and begin to weep.  I know she loved Great-Gramps but I wasn't sure how her first funeral experience would effect her.  I talked with her quietly and realized something.   These sad feelings were difficult for her and as glad as I was that she could express them,  she might also learn from the upcoming hour.  

So, just like the well meaning white-haired ladies at Grandma's funeral 17 years prior, I asked my girl,

"How about we go and eat lunch, does that sound good?" 
It did.

We walked to the other side of the church and what began with- quiet tones of wiping tears and blowing noses beautifully transitioned into smiles,
and memories--
and breaking bread together.  

I had finally found value in the ritual. 

 

A large (but not the whole) part of the family poses for a photo 

following the --much to my delight-- Ham-on...croissants!

It was Sadness and Celebration.
Pain, still Praise.
Death, yet Victory!

Joy and sorrow are often intermingled into the ways and the days of this life.  

What is your only comfort
in life and in death? 

That I am not my own,
but belong—

body and soul,
in life and in death—

to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.

He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood,
and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.
He also watches over me in such a way
that not a hair can fall from my head
without the will of my Father in heaven;
in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.

Because I belong to him,
Christ, by his Holy Spirit,
assures me of eternal life
and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready
from now on to live for him.

 

The Heidelberg Catechism above says "all things"

I desire to be a person who can see the big picture, have that keen awareness of all the gifts and all the grace surrounding life's circumstances.   

In the great moments and especially in the hard times be less bogged down with fickle feelings and more attuned to what The Lord wants me to see and learn. 

It's not easy. 
Just about anything can fog our senses.    
But by the same token,  just about anything can be used to teach us.  

Even a ham sandwich.

when winter came.

(Photo from our back yard one rare day 
when the sun broke through)

It's been a winter for the record books where we live.  Snow upon snow upon snow that we push into piles and create pathways to go where we gots to git.   (sorry for the poor grammar- but I'm not a professional writer, so I can get away with it!)   We deal with winter's blow and look forward to brighter days when the sea of white will dissipate,  because we know it will.  As long as the earth endures, seasons change.  It's a promise.    

As we wait for the literal winter to secede there is a figurative winter that our family is waiting through.
May I share a little more about it?

First though,  a little background from my childhood...


When we heard the back door open,  we'd come running.

Barbie dolls,  Legos, dress up clothes all left in the dust when we realized our Daddy was home from work!  

It was like an amusement park ride how he could lift up all three of us at once and tote us around.  Did he have super human strength?  I'm sure I thought he did.  I was wee and he was mighty!

Day to day experiences like that among many others throughout my childhood sealed for me the impression that my Dad was amazing, invincible and unlike no other.    I am grateful for this.

Our Dad's mild stroke just after the new year took us all by surprise.  Over the last months many have expressed to me how Dad is so healthy, strong & fit and didn't seem likely for such a health crisis.   Initially,  I shared those sentiments as facts because as far as a 61 year old goes,  he is active,  full of vim and vigor.  Not living a sedentary lifestyle and responsibly monitoring his health status,  I always assumed from a medical standpoint Dad was better than the average.  As his doctor could attest,  that was a fair assumption.

But what was really happening for me was something less factual and more emotional.  (I know, imagine that?)  It didn't matter to me that he didn't fit the typical risk factors for stroke or not--yet suffered one anyway.   In my heart he wasn't supposed to have a stroke because he was the Super Human father that lifted me up both physically as a child and in every other way since childhood.  

(Photo courtesy of Footstock Barefoot Tournament) 

It was the first time I would come to the awareness that our Dad is in fact,  super! Yet also... human.  

I know,  rather a late realization.   But an important one.    Although an uneasy understanding for me that my Dad wasn't invincible after all,  I began to see Dad as God's child!   In unique and powerful ways our Heavenly Father carries His children through seasons of winter in our lives.   As the weeks went by this was very true for Dad.   You see,  a super hero wouldn't admit weakness or see the need for help.    In Dad's humble humanity he worked hard at regaining strength.  He wasn't too manly or macho to take a break from work,  or even driving for that matter.    I smiled often in the dead of this very long winter as Mom escorted Dad everywhere for awhile. They really are two peas in a pod.   I'm inspired by and have learned so much from them through this experience.

As our Heavenly father strengthened Dad's health and resolve following the stroke,   He also strengthens my heart against worry and fear.   We experienced again the gifts bestowed though community,  His Word,  hugs,  prayer,  & conversations.   God blesses, even through hardship and unresolved outcomes.  He doesn't let us go!   In His strength we are lifted and carried around when we run to him.   I like to picture it in much the same way my Daddy lifted me as a youngster.

Dad's prognosis is good, yet still-- we  wait.   For winter to melt away and for the possibility of Dad's vision to return full and clear...  for spring to arrive.   

But,  we wait with hope,  we hope with faith.  We are always held,  no matter what.   No human,  not even the biggest, strongest, wealthiest, hero you know can offer this kind of assurance when the winter comes.    
Only The Lord Almighty, 
as we humble ourselves before Him.

Run to Him! 

Song of Songs 2:11-13

New International Version (NIV)

11 See! The winter is past;
    the rains are over and gone.
12 Flowers appear on the earth;
    the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
    is heard in our land.
13 The fig tree forms its early fruit;
    the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
    my beautiful one, come with me.”

15.

I wanted to do this 2 months ago, but you know how it is...  life gets in the way.

So,  15 years and 2 months into our marriage we celebrate 

with this slideshow of photos... through the years,  

and a wedding prayer.

Every step we are breathing in Your grace
Evermore we’ll be breathing out Your praise.
You are faithful, God, You are faithful.

--- Matt Redman Never Once 

Father in heaven,
        give today your blessing
        upon the marriage of Dan and Michelle.
      We thank you for the vows
        they have spoken
        and the love in which
        they are now united.
      Keep them faithful and strong
        in every trial.
      Sustain their joy and affection
        for many years.
      We pray, Lord Jesus,
        that you will be acknowledged
        head of their home
        and master of their lives.
      Equip them, Holy Spirit,
          with patient endurance,
      sacrificial service, unfailing courtesy,
        endless trust, and lasting love.
      Grant that their home
        will often be a place of laughter;
        and in times of difficulty or trouble,
        a haven of healing and forgiveness.
      May they and their children
        give constant praise to you,
        eternal Father, who with the Son and the Spirit
        is God, blessed and exalted forever. Amen.

a Mother's love.

My mom and I,  with April.

A sad photo,   but a beautiful love.

Happy Mother's Day!

May God bring you all the joys, comfort,  peace,  gratitude, love and hope that a day like this can bring.

It's gotta be the shoes.

While sitting in the shoe store a month ago,  mesmerized by the brilliant wall of colorful running shoes I felt I was in a familiar place.  No,  the store wasn't  familiar for it was my first time shopping there, rather what felt familiar  was what was going on in my head.  I sat and thought as I waited for the sales person to hop over with that weird shoe trying on ramp.  I sat and thought...

Today isn't the first time I purposed to become athletic.
Today isn't the first time I wanted to be part of the team.
Today will not be the the first time vanity took victory...

Stroll backward with me...
As I was a budding young junior-higher I decided that sports would be my thing.   After all,  thanks to my genetics I was taller than most and I had a father who excelled in most sports as evidenced by the scrapbooks and photo albums my Grandmother so lovingly assembled.   Being a Hopkins was nearly synonymous with being an athlete.

Atheticism... Check!
Making the Basketball team... Check!  (did I mention there were not cuts at my school?)
Looking good while playing sport... Almost check.

I needed Basketball shoes.   I concocted the belief that whatever sport I played in my Jr. High career needed the appropriate shoe.   No run of the mill MTA Pro tennis shoe would do.   I needed legit Basketball shoes!   There was one girl who was leaps and bounds more talented than anyone in a decade at Moline Chr. school.   She wore Nike Air Basketball shoes.    I needed Nike Air Basketball shoes!
Knowing me as they did,  My financially unstable yet generous and loving parents sprung for this exact pair:

With my Basketball shoes securely fastened I was ready for a season of layups, free throws and Wins!
The truth was my small school was known much more for its farm fresh smell than dominance on the courts.   The truth was I just couldn't get that jump shot right.
Ever.
But,  you know what?

I didn't care one bit that we lost nearly every game!
I had the shoes!
I was part of a team!
I looked good (or so I thought) running up and down the court with my hair in my eyes.   (far be it from me to wear my hair in a ponytail for the games-- I looked hideous that way , or so I thought)


Back to present day.
A little history on what brought me shoe shopping.   I have come to a point in my mid-ish 30s where a realization hit me.    No more pregnancies,   no more excuses.   It is time to get in shape.   For health,  for energy,  for life!   I had purpose.

Another inspiration are two of my girlfriends that have been running for some time now.   They talk of things like treadmills,  workouts, and 5ks.   It intrigued me.   I wanted in.   I wanted to be on Team Running!

So, one day I found myself at the aforementioned wall of running shoes.  The sales girl fitted me with the most amazing pair of pink Nike Zoom Structure + Triax 15 running shoes.    

I felt as great as these pink shoes look!  The pink shoes made my size 10s look positively dainty!  

It was an amazing trifecta!  

Atheleticism was on the horizon.
I was about to become member of the running gang.
I had THE shoes.


What followed that high was an unwelcome discoveries.    12 years of birthing and babies does not a runner make.   The amazing pink shoes were not so amazing as they squished to my toes into a state of numb.    How could this be?   They look so good!  The Couch to 5k program was about to go go back to the couch.

I was told to head back to the shoe store.    With a proper re-fitting I was offered a slim selection of shoes that only a cheapskate with a wide foot and mild to moderate over pronation could love.

They certainly weren't pink.  Defeated and disillusioned ,  I made the exchange at the register and the sales girl offered up one last sales pitch/life lesson.

She said and I quote:
"You're just going to have to get over the fact that they are not pink."

"The nerve!"  I thought as I scanned the parking lot for my minivan.

As I talked to my husband about the incident I began to see the truth amongst all the silliness that was I was creating.   If I want to get healthy,  and accomplish this running goal (a 5k with my friends)  I needed to let vanity lose,  and lose hard.

There are so, so many lessons I am learning through this process.   One of which is taught so beautifully in the following scripture...

 

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.  

 Hebrews 12:1 

False identity,  vanity,  materialism.  May I be stripped of these weights and run the race.

 

way back Wednesday

Came across this one and had a hearty laugh. out. loud.

It's like one of those 

"what's wrong in this picture?" puzzles.

(I can spot at least 5 oddities)

That Christmas I fondly remember the boys receiving model rockets.

Dan and I were engaged and he was already part of the family.

 

O Perfect Love

I remember paging through the white vinyl bound book when I was a young girl.
It had already showed signs of aging even though it was only 10 years old.   As I stared at the photos long enough somehow I felt transported to that day.

The day my parents were married.  40 years ago today.  

I loved looking at her wedding gown,  the 1970s fashion,  the familiar and noticeably younger faces of loved ones that stood next to my blonde haired father and fresh faced mother.  It was beyond interesting to think of my parents as a bride and groom and of a time before I came to be.   It felt special and comforting to me at that young age.  It inspired hopes and dreams of one day being a bride myself.   Turning the pages of that album  I knew not the reality of being a bride and becoming a wife.    Little did I understand that the wedding is a day,  the marriage is a lifetime.

Now I understand as my own marriage is nearly 15 years in.  Today we celebrate 40 years of God's faithfulness to a couple of 19 year olds,  who  made a commitment to love and to cherish.   My parents have a great story to tell.  Stories of blessing,  stories of struggle,  stories of God's work and His guidance,  when the path was unclear.    Isn't that what it is all about?   Going on faith and love into a future unknown?   Their union has inspired me all of my days to live and love as they have.   Give and serve as they do,   trust and find contentment in every circumstance. 

I type with tear filled eyes at the wild blessings they are to us and so many others.

We Love You Mom and Dad!

Happy 40th Anniversary!

O perfect Love, all human thought transcending,
Lowly we kneel in prayer before Thy throne,
That theirs may be the love which knows no ending,
Whom Thou forevermore dost join in one.

one last hurrah. (a long lost blog post!)

This post was written pre-Naomi :)  I just discovered it in my blog drafts and for the sake of memory keeping,  thought I would still post it.

in the beginning of  March, we packed up the mini-van and mozied down to Schaumburg, Illinois to visit LegoLand Discovery Center.

Dan and I promoted it to the kids as one last family trip before the baby comes.    We would stay in a hotel,   eat at restaurants,  and swim in the pool!   They could hardly wait until the Friday we would leave.  The closer the weekend came,   the sicker and rounder I was becoming.    All hopped up on nasal spray and Zantac,  I soldiered through the rather close quarters of LegoLand and slithered into a swimsuit for a dip in the hotel pool.  

Fun family times were had by all.   I'd have to say my one of my favorite parts of the weekend was Thai food delivered to our hotel room!      There is nothing more fun that eating on a bed with 6 people watching Spongebob Squarepants...   or is there ? ? ?

A few pix from the experience...

 are we having fun yet?

 very typical

 

I was not allowed on the rides. 

Joy thought this was about the funniest thing she had ever seen!

April's Garden 2011

Last year we created a garden in the front of our home.
A memorial garden.

it was a productive activity,  and i really, really needed to do something with my time and anxious thoughts.

At the time (May) Dan suggested that we plant a good amount of spring bloomers because after all,  our baby passed away in April just as spring was budding and blooming.   The garden as it bloomed would remind us of April our 5th baby,  of God's faithfulness in our lives and ultimately bring us joy.

But, by the time we prepared the yard and put the finishing touches on the garden,  Spring had long passed.   We had to wait until Spring 2011 to see new growth and beautiful blooms.   It rather well represents the patience and waiting I had to learn this last year. 

Looking back I can still feel how impatient I was.   I wanted time to pass as quick as possible.  I wanted to rush the outcome.  In my mind one year after April's passing would be significant.  Significantly healing,  I had hoped.   God did reveal His plan this last year,  in powerful ways.
I like that the garden is so much more than just a collection of soil and vegetation.  It is a symbol.  Not just this Spring,  but every Spring season in the future. 

Today,  it is Spring 2011, one year later.   I snapped a few photos to share the progress and the beauty of the garden.

Flashback Friday/ Our Big kid is 11 !!

Eleven years ago Dan and I were just youngsters --  I mean really,  quite young  at 23 and 24 !!  We were anticipating the birth of our first child.  It was one of the most precious times in our life so far.  I love to witness people waiting for their first child to arrive.  With great expectation they do not yet know what an almost sacred moment they will soon experience!!

We did not know if were about to meet a boy or a girl,  but in my heart I just knew I would have a boy.  I had always kind of wanted a big brother to lead the way and I dreamed that my future daughters would benefit from that.   I guess that reality is yet to be determined. Yes, they have older brothers-- but will they appreciate that?

Boy oh, boy what a difference it is being pregnant @ 35!   I won't go into all the reasons for I don't want this to read like a complaint list.  I certainly am not complaining about my current state,  but this ol' uterus ain't what it used to be!  Ha HA!

So for this Flashback,   a few photos from expecting Chase.  How I treasured the last 11 years and roughly 207 weeks of carrying our babies! 

March 2000  38 weeks and waiting to meet our firstborn--Chase!

 back when maternity shirts were long enough and resembled tents.

A few more funnies from labor and delivery...

Dan was pretty tired out from all the labor I was doing! We still laugh about this!

Wow,  after 12 hours of true labor,  He was here and I was a Mom.  

Since I'm on the feeling train,  I'll ride it a bit longer...
Chase has been a blessing beyond measure with his calm disposition and generally pleasing attitude.   I am not naive enough to think that we are not on the verge of big change for him as he enters the ~~shudder~~   'tween years.

But today on this 11th birthday, I bring God praise for all that He has made him and all Chase will become.    Time to buckle our seatbelts!!!!    If only figuratively for 4 more years!

jealous, much?

With each new infant item introduced into the daily mix I have a little gal who would really just like to go back in time and relive her short session as the "baby".

Does she even remember when she fit in this seat?

I certainly do!

Flashback Friday-- fridge fotos edition

I pass by them everyday,  adornments on my refridgerator.   It is a messy collage of magnets, cards, photos, kid artwork and notepads.

Today I took a fresh look at them again,  and scanned in a few of my faves.

As much as I love professional photographs,   there is something great about snapshots.

Here's a few from my frig front...

Juliet, 1 Year Old 

Bethany, Me, and Stacey rockin' it 1980s style in 2007

The Big 3 when they were quite little,  2007

Katie and I,  expecting the gals in 2008

The Fam.  last Fall 2010

Flashback(s) Friday

family photos never before published here @ Mini-Van Mega-Fun!

 church pic 2000

church pic 2004

fam pic 2002

 

Also,  from deep in the archives...
a few of Dan and my engagement pix.

Observe the carefully planned coordinating outfits and perfectly set curls. 
Notice the awkward posing.   Very 1996.

Love is in the air!