I've been a ridiculous mess of emotions and headaches, deadlines and budget, kids' homework and activities, Dr. appointments and packing to move. Earlier today dear, sweet Hubby asked me if I'd like him to get my purse so I could get a headache medicine. I said, "No thanks, I'm okay, I'd rather just get through this and get home and then I'm sure I'd feel better." He gave me THAT look and reached for my purse anyhow. "Please, for the kids and me? You're killing us."Shoot. Am I really? And he nods.
Bitty as I speak is teething on the side of her crib. Earlier today she was teething on the legs of chairs. Who's child is this? Seriously. Then the bottles that she uses are the bottles with the liners in them. Since the bottle isn't closed on the bottom, and you just change the liner, it's really much easier to clean. But this kid is smart. Or funny. Or destructive. Or all of the above at the same time. She learned today how to stick her hand UP the bottom of the bottle and 1) SQUEEZE the liner bag so it sprays formula every where and 2)YANK the liner, formula and all, right out of the bottle.....oh doesn't that paint and lovely little picture? My car will smell fantastically of old, warm, formula tomorrow I'm sure.
So we're wrapping up a fairly uneventful day, and it's finally starting to cool off. We load some more boxes. We undo part of my closet, then start on Hubby's. There's been this box in his closet forever labeled "Halloween." I didn't get to it last year because Bitty had just been born. Didn't get to it the year before that because Mom had just died. And now I couldn't really remember what we would have that would be in that box. Hmmmm... so I open it.....
Oh. My. Goodness.
When I think this little train of mine can't chug chug through anything else... I get this little love gift. Inside the box are sweet little clothes of mine from when I was baby. NOW I remember Mom giving me this box a few months before she died. Oh they are precious. Precious-PRECIOUS. Favorites that she'd saved for me. I'm taking them out one at a time and showing them to the bebes and hubby. Maybe 15 little outfits. Down at the bottom is the sweetest one of all: A hand-sewn dress by MY MAMA for ME when I was but a wee-little-babe. It will fit bitty perfectly. Look how sweet it is:
These little love gifts from Mama pop up about once a year. She never got to meet Bitty. Bitty was due to be born one year TO THE DAY after Mama died. Bitty is Mama's namesake. I wonder if they secretly rendezvoused in heaven. There is so much about my sweet baby that is so much like my mom. I wonder if when Mama was making this dress for me, if she ever imagined that a grandchild she'd never meet on Earth would wear it joyfully years later. Or maybe she knew all along....
Tomorrow we will get up early and go to church, and then to a company picnic. Bitty will wear this sweet dress all day tomorrow and I will quietly smile and know that Mama is keeping an eye on me and my bebes from afar. We are surrounded by love..and I am thankful.
I'm typing innocently away catching up with an old friend. 
Many times I feel lost. Lost in my mind, my identity lost as a mom, lost in every day life and in this world. I'm mostly comfortable being quiet and keeping to myself, but appreciate being noticed. On a rare venture I may step out of this realm and sneak my foot just a little farther past my boundaries than I am used to. Sometimes I find success, and mostly I don't. Retreat and I have a common understanding.
In my somewhat delusional migraine infused dreams last night this was the constant dream. What can I do? What can I change? I should be more like this. I shouldn't do that, blah blah blah. When I woke up I realized this is NOT what I want, and it certainly can't be what God wants either. I can and should be challenged, but I shouldn't have to change who I am to accomplish that. Perhaps just fine tune things to be a better me. Keep a keen eye out for ways of sharing God's grace and love and mercy. Be open. And remember:I can't be me if I'm trying to be them.
My blood pressure spiked, my mind is spinning. I have a 2 year old and new baby, we have no basement. Where will we hide and take cover? I'm checking off things in my head, water, food, diapers, batteries, radio, flash lights, guns...and no I'm not joking. We are country folk and I was in over drive to prepare and protect my family. I had never so much appreciated living in the middle of nowhere. Maybe we'd be spared.
Hubby was particularly affected. Being a fire fighter...he knows the sounds. Yes- sounds. When they started playing the video tapes from hand held amateurs...the sounds are what made it almost unbearable. Sure as if the sight of it all wasn't enough. After the towers came down and they rolled through the streets, the sound that was heard was the CRY of the SCBA (self contained breathing apparatus.) Any fire fighter, or any one who has even trained or anything with the fire department knows that on the back of the SCBAs are PALs. These are special little devices that squeal after a certain time has elapsed without movement. It helps to locate firemen in a fire who can't find their way out. It signals a fire fighter down. But here, this time, there was a CHORUS of PALs crying. Not a few...there were hundreds...thousands...and no movement...just ash.
The family phone tree started to take action as phone circuits allowed. We had not lost anyone. Where I lack in siblings, I make up for it in cousins. One cousin had a gig planned in one of the towers later that night. Another cousin (different side of the family) had taking the sub to his stop below the south tower just an hour before the first plane hit. We were lucky. As a whole, as a county we were devastated, but our little family was ok. 
The President's speech challenged all Americans to find a fire fighter and thank them for their service. Hubby turned to his step dad, and his step dad to him, and they said thank you, through tears (man tears....like one) to one another. The next day back at the restaurant it was slow. People were really on edge and quiet and contemplative. I was just barely keeping it together. A man came and placed a to-go order with hubby. It was very usual. He was an older gentleman with weathered, leathered skin. When hubby went to hand him the change, the man looked up at him and then looked at hubby's shirt. He had on his fire department shirt. The man took his change and took hold of hubby's hand in one motion:
I take this night and I pray relentlessly for all of those who lost a loved one, or were injured. I pray for those who were pregnant and lost their husbands. Those sweet babies that never knew their heroic daddies. I pray thankfully for the flight attendants whose quick thinking identified the perpetrators. And the valiant passengers who fought back. I pray for all the medical and fire personnel who ran UP the hundreds of flights of stairs to save the victims, just to be brought down by another airplane and the building caving in.
