Not to the swift

Me and Him. June 2008

College for him has been rough.
Like a race that everyone said he had to run.
They said it was really important.
So he agreed to run.

But he only knew some of the rules.
And even the rules he knew, he didn't understand.
But he ran.
And, inevitably, he fell.
Because he still didn't know the rules.

He ran again.
And, again, he fell.
Because the rules still didn't make sense.
But all the coaches kept saying it was really important to run this race.
So off he ran.
Just to fall.
Again.


So instead of finishing that lap, he stumbled off to the bleachers to have himself a good think.
He thought about why he was running.
He thought about whether or not it really was as important as they all said it was.
He thought about the rules
The mental ones, and the social ones, and the emotional ones, and the physical ones.
The ones he kept breaking,
The ones that kept him falling.
And he thought and he thought and he thought.


And then he prayed.


And then he ran again.
And the rules were making more sense.
And he ran because HE knew it was an important race.
And he may have tripped a time or two more, but he was done falling.


And now he's got one more lap.
And he knows the track.
And he knows the rules.
And he knows his Coach.
And he knows his two greatest fans.
And he runs for them.
And for himself.


And in April,
He'll break that final ribbon.
And the victory will be sweet.
For all of us.


And know what?
He's signing up for the next race.
And me and her are going to watch him run
And cheer for him till our lungs break.

I'm a Believer

Me = urgert, passionate, busy

Him = meticulous, controlled, calm



North and South



When we first got married I would tease him that it took him forever to wash the dishes...Gently tease because a girl would be a fool to critize a willing helper.

He, in turn, would tease me that I always missed stuff on the plates. The jest was only fair at that point...and true.



So we comprimised:
I wash the dishes quickly, and when he rises them, he'll send them back through if they don't pass the sanitation test.
Final Product:
Clean dishes real fast.



But I'm always getting things done fast. (Not always well, but fast)
And when yesterday came around, I was tired down to my soul
and it was only Monday.

I was sure that I had hours of work to do.
But I went to bed anyway.
Appartently my soul is a stronger force to be reckoned with than just my body.
My soul demands sleep while my body just suffers (that is until my soul pipes up.)



When I woke up this morning, I told myself NO MATTER WHAT
I will not be frantic today.





"Like Paul," I said.
"Try to be like Paul today.
See if it really works."
Because I've had my doubts...



10 minutes before school started:
"Hey, Rebekah, how are you?"
"Fine, you see, I am exerting every possible ounce of self-control I possess because I promised myself I would not be frantic today. How are you?"
Everything that HAD to be done before school started, got done.



A parent came in unexpectedly to observe.
No stress.
Okay, fine, that was a lie.
There WAS stress.
A lot.
But not as much.
Not as much stress (Brain Reagan voice again)



Couldn't find something for a lesson
(organized people shouldn't RE-organize too much.
It gets confusing.
I couldn't remember WHICH logical thought I used when I last made the decision about where to put that one thing away.)
But I stayed calm.
With the help of a minor Godly intervention,
I found it,
because I was still enough to hear the revelation.



And that belt/ girrdle/ stirrup/ tourniquet/ thing that makes the car keep working...
It broke.
Enter obscene amount of money here ---> $______.__
And it's okay.
Not peachy.
DEFINITELY not peachy.
But okay.



Because I hadn't been frantic so far.
Why start now?



And I have this feeling,
inspite of previous doubt,
That Paul's right on this one.
But the question remains,
Am I tough enough to try it again tomorrow?





And this has nothing to do, whatsoever, with my thoughts today except that Grandma B is the bomb.com.

I never saw a cuter witch. Though little Cousin Hailey was tough competition. Mother's bias, you understand.

I just really wanted to show you these...

See my tiny girl right there?


Some people have a gift.


My friend, Kristine (LuckyLimePhotography), shared hers with me, and now we have this beautiful part of our lives captured forever.

It still amazes me that my body did that.

And I can't wait/could wait forever/but mostly can't wait to do it again.

But I'm still pretty okay with waiting.

Maybe you know what I mean.

No, that's not just the photography.

He really is that good looking.


And, I'm still okay with waiting...for now.

Coulda. Shoulda.

I am not always sure these days what goes on my

Could Be Doing List

as opposed to my

Should Be Doing List.

It's tricky.

But rest assured.

I am ALWAYS DOING.

Sleep is viewed, foolishly, as an option.

WHY? WHY? WHY?

My day is full of prioritizing and re-prioritizing because what I thought an hour ago was a "had-to-be-done-thing" didn't actually get done. But that was then and this is now, and it's no longer the thing that has to be done. Except it does. Only not as much. Not as much need-to-be-done. (And that line can only be properly voiced if you have inserted the Brian Reagan skit about Cherry and Grape Favorites, keeping the tone and changing the words. Not important. Moving on.)

The point is, it's tricky.

All this juggling.

But sometimes, it's not. Because sometimes there is only one ball to juggle. And you named her Grace. Because Grace means strong, (and a million other things) and that's what she is. Your strength (and a million other things.)

And sometimes you pick her up from her Aunt's house because Daddy was at the dentist. And

the minute you see her, you know all she needs is a nap.

So you take her home. And love her up. And swaddle her like a tiny mummy because that's how she likes it. And you kiss her ears and nose and mouth and cheeks and head.

And then do it once more just for love.

And lay her in her tiny bed.

To sleep.

Because that's what she needs.

And then.

She screams.

A desperate yell.

You rush to her.

Pick her up.

And she immediately drops off to sleep.

Right there in your arms.

And a smile crosses your lips.
And a sigh rests your soul.

Because your Grace didn't just need a nap.

She needed to be Home.

And YOU are her Home.

And the privilege of being that tiny girl's Home fills you with gratitude (and a million other things).

So you sleep.

Together.

This time,

it's not an option.

And the Could Be Doing, and Should Be Doing Lists are perfectly clear.

You could be, and you should be, and you are

Home.

I. As in Me.

Yep.

I am still here.

But when I think about that I--- I realize how much it's changed.

That I has been stretched, molded, expanded, grown, and loved.

And that I teaches school, so that I has probably been hated for at least a few minutes, too.

But that I has a way of winning 'em over, so it's likely they were very short minutes.

Hopefully.

I sit here though---as this changed I---trying to conjure up something meaningful to say but the truth is, I'm worn out. All my creative energy has been used up today. But I had it this morning and it was used up on good good people. So I think that it's okay that it's used up.

One of those good people did get pretty mad at me today.

10 year olds aren't always reasonable---but lots of times they are, so I don't hold it against them. Usually. Besides teaching is good practice for mom-ing. Nothing like the real game, but remarkably good practice just the same.

Being a mom makes me love other kids more, too. It does.

I love them all more.

Because I know that some other mom like me is loving her kid, hoping the grown-ups that spend the day with the kid love her, too.

I'm the other grown up---And---I'm the other mom.

So I love those kids more.

For their moms. For me.

I didn't decide to.

It just happened.

Sometimes it's hard.

Working away from home.

It wasn't what I pictured doing, exactly.

At all.

But I'm sustained.

Just as I was promised in my heart I would be if I did this hard thing.

And you know what, I am happy.

Really.

Really I am happy.

And I am Really Happy.

I wasn't expecting that.

Also,

I am In Love.

With her.

And with him.

So maybe that's why I am happy. Really happy. Because when the day is done. They are mine. Still.

And even with all the change, the new I belongs.

She fits.

With them.

So----if your curious. Here she is.

And yes, that is my ultra-cool mom voice.

An Update

5 weeks old

A whole lot of very little has been happening lately.
And by that I mean that all of my time is completely engrossed in a very small array of tasks.

Feeding, changing, and sleeping a tiny baby.

Picking up the house, grocery shopping (occasionally), and checking up on the little rugrats that are currently running my classroom (which is relatively unharmed, mostly tidy, obviously busy with projects I designed (or stole from my dear friend Jessie) but smells like a different teacher.)

That's all I do these days.

OH!!!!

And sometimes I cook.

Sometimes.

(Sometimes I just wait for Paul to get home because that's the way we roll around here.)

Don't worry.

My lack-of-"wifely-perfection"-in-that-I-have-little-to-no-interest-in-preparing-food-but-NO-TROUBLE-eating-it has been thoroughly discussed with my doting husband.

He was well aware of my folly BEFORE he married me and to boot,

he LOVES cooking.

So this is a perfect arrangement for us.

In fact in a complete side note from the original intent of this post, when I "help Paul cook" I usually just do dishes.

He does what he's good at

and I do what I am good at.

Like I said.

Perfection.

The tiny girl is marvelous.

We have battled many battles both emotional and physical and the score as of today....

Trials - 4

Herricks - 5

So Boo-yah.

Reading one of my favorite blogs (cjane) the other day, she mentioned how loving your children can border on insanity.

Yes.

There is an ever present knowledge of the frailty of life when you have something that just the thought of losing leaves you with a weak stomach, a shortness of breath, a faint paralysis of limb.

I have so much to lose.

So much.

And it fills me with the most profound gratitude and humility,

and deep down,

horrific fear.

Fear of all the what-ifs, and could possiblies, and I-have-no-control-over-thats.

Fear that can only be met with faith.

That my sweet angel and her practically perfect daddy are mine forever.

And with that thought---and it is no "mere" thought, it is a thought that can only be believed when great spiritual work has been attended to---I go on feeding, changing, sleeping, cleaning, shopping, teaching, cooking (occasionally) and LOVING.

LOVING those two (and the many other magnificent people that I adore--if you think you're on that list, you probably are...if you think you MIGHT be on that list, you probably are)

with all that I have; trying to be more kind, more patient, more...everything that is good and better than who I am right now.

And thrilling more and more at the thought of collecting a few more tiny girls and boys.

Trailing Clouds of Glory

A Few Hours Old

She finally came.
Sandra Grace Herrick
August 11, 2010
11:18 p.m.
7 lbs. 14 oz.
20 in.
Mama's Eyes
Daddy's Mouth

And perhaps one day I'll write the story of her coming for others to read, but for now, the story is a very precious gift that to speak of it seems to undermine its beauty. So today I will hold it tightly and, as Mary so long ago, ponder it in my heart.

One Week Old