the days following

Today is a quiet day. Like most days lately, it's too cold to go outside.  

My mom came the last two days, and helped get our house under control after I was gone the last few days at a mothering conference and then in the hospital. The way she shows love is acts of service, and she's really good at it.

I'd really like to thank all of you who were reading during our most recent journey.  I don't know how many of you there are, but I did notice a much larger blog readership during the course of our pregnancy and then eventual miscarriage.  I appreciate your "listening."  It's been difficult to be candid, but it's been good for me.

Today I was reading a little Madeline L'Engle, and I came across this line that was so perfectly timed for us: "A comprehensible God is no more than an idol." 

Last night, I cried in the middle of supper, because Michael prayed and thanked God for the boys, and it was the first time we vocally omitted the baby from our prayers.  I had been so used to hearing "and please help the baby in mommy's tummy grow strong and healthy", and now that I didn't hear it, I started crying.

Most of you are probably my facebook friends, so you'll know this story, but after I got done crying, Million said "Mama is sad."  Michael suggested "Why don't you sing her a song like Creed (by Rich Mullins) to try to cheer her up?"  Million piped up "Or how about 'I'm Just a Love Machine And I Won't Work For Nobody But You'?"  I laughed so hard.  (For the record, Michael only taught him that line because the jammies they're wearing in the picture above say "Love Machine" on them...)

I have three very thoughtful sisters.

The boys were happy to do crafts again.

Two new children's devotionals I picked up at the conference for Million.  Beautiful illustrations, and simple, well-chosen wording.

I really do want to get a post up here summarizing some of the amazing parts of the conference.  (I got to sit at the keynote speaker table the ENTIRE time, because for once in my little introverted life I snatched an opportunity boldly.) 

For school today, Million's only lesson that he was instructed to repeat three times was "An opera singer is good, if he or she makes you cry happy tears."  We're not setting the bar super-high this week, obviously.

And now my time reflecting is done, because I hear crying in two different rooms.  And, unfortunately, they're not opera-induced happy tears.