tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27356274628448130212024-03-18T22:00:29.883-07:00Arranging pieces..."Arrange whatever pieces come your way."
- Virginia WoolfSherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-72109546309234066982024-01-09T10:40:00.000-08:002024-01-09T10:42:12.347-08:00Holiday Card 2023<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtggDgDeF17ukAZJuqypwfhrmF9ZCfuVBhyB1xpOM4mqPdSCiwNI8Pv1CnG_aw0fA3MmTEsUkr_sHPSxDA7uAAxpjlKxC-7qs_c5de5HXfv-sSwMy-CDki7tQztkLeWc_hlPXsAkyVxEGq1gyywHZqeVwpC5u-9o-Pfke2uspxKzxiZr6Yb5BjZ1Z64OPh/s800/Holiday%20Card%202023.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="571" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtggDgDeF17ukAZJuqypwfhrmF9ZCfuVBhyB1xpOM4mqPdSCiwNI8Pv1CnG_aw0fA3MmTEsUkr_sHPSxDA7uAAxpjlKxC-7qs_c5de5HXfv-sSwMy-CDki7tQztkLeWc_hlPXsAkyVxEGq1gyywHZqeVwpC5u-9o-Pfke2uspxKzxiZr6Yb5BjZ1Z64OPh/w285-h400/Holiday%20Card%202023.jpeg" width="285" /></a></div><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Last year's card was never sent with my mom passing two weeks before Christmas and the amount of life lived in the last two years feels far too vast to fit on the back of a 5x7. Our girls are growing at lightning speed with Anna now a teenager!! (7th grade) and playing soccer/lacrosse/basketball. She has more friends than she can manage, loves choir and theatre and played a lead role in last spring's production. Etta, now 9 (4th grade), is passionate about gymnastics, Taylor Swift, drawing, writing, building and making plays and shows and all things creative. Thea is 7 (2nd grade) going on 17 and puts together outfits based on theme or how "teenager-y: they are. She does all the things her sisters do, but with added flair, sparkle, mischief and pure volume. We got a puppy in March simultaneously descending us further into chaos and bringing us more joy than we ever expected. Bruno is the cutest, friendliest, funnniest dog who sometimes puts up with our adoration and excessive affection. Adam is still saving lives at the VA and building decks/bedrooms/porches, fixing cars and being Fun Dad extraordinaire when he's off. I (Sheri) am working more all the time and balancing all the other the roles I am lucky enough to have.</span></div><div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">2022 brought us sorrow and love mingled as we said a long goodbye to our dear mom and Mormor. We carry both the mundane busyness of life and profound sadness as we struggle to both hold loosely and cling tightly. Life doesn't stop for our pain and our grief hasn't prevented our joy. In that vein, we have gone on as many trips and adventures as we could manage including Adam and I traveling to Iceland this fall. We are marked by these years and all they have held and are grateful for everyday of this life we are fortunate enough to live and the people we get to live it with. </span></div><div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">With so much love,</span></div><div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Sheri, Adam, Anna, Etta, Thea & Bruno</span></div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-76504438849280214332023-05-16T13:32:00.003-07:002023-05-16T13:36:18.464-07:00Mom<p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face=""Helvetica Neue", sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Last Sunday would have been mom's 77th birthday, and it was our first Mother's Day without her. To say I miss her feels absurd... it's so woefully inadequate. I'm not ready to reopen the wound and write again, but I thought I could share my tribute from her service. </i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">If you knew mom, or if you even met her - actually I feel like meeting her and knowing her were one and the same to be honest - she wasn’t a particularly private person… But if you knew anything at all about her you knew she loved people. Like really, really loved people. She loved the people she knew, her family, her church people, her cancer group, the person in line in front of her at the grocery store, you.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mom would talk to people everywhere and would never pass up a chance to chat. She just loved hearing people’s stories, and if she couldn’t, she would just make them up. I remember as kids we would give her a hard time as she would not only people-watch, but speculate about the stranger’s life and some of these stories were pretty elaborate. We would roll our eyes and groan, but looking back, I think it’s a beautiful thing - maybe not so much the speculating, but how mom always made sure to see people when most of us don’t. She knew everyone has a story and she cared about every single one.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Being seen and telling ‘stories’ was really a big part of who mom was. What made her her. She had an insatiable curiosity AND a strong desire to share her own story. Her constant quest to connect to others, to see the humanity in all, the threads that connect us to each other and to our creator was a beautiful thing. She was a woman who spent her life hosting and loving and giving and feeling and always, always, ALWAYS pointing others to the goodness of her God, the one she loved with all her heart and whose love she seemed to not just believe but actually FEEL.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">So what was her story? What is her legacy, what has she left behind? </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">I look around the room and I think the answer is pretty obvious - it’s in all of you, everyone here, everyone watching out there, really everyone who was lucky enough to cross her path. Her legacy is how she touched the lives of so many, simply because her heart was so big and her compassion so endless. We made a kudoboard for mom when she was in hospice, a place where you could write her a message and tell her what she meant to you. The responses just poured in. From friends here in BC, old colleagues in Calgary, from our childhood friends, even from people whom she had never directly met. This was the kind of impact she had. Even in my old yearbook from CBC there are several comments referencing mom. My mom - in my yearbook. This is what I’m talking about. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Her story will live on in all of you, her family, her brothers and sisters in law, uncles, aunts, cousins and more. You are the lucky ones who knew her and were loved and cherished by her her entire life. She loved you every single day of her 76 years and counted herself blessed beyond measure to call you her family. You were everything to her.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Her legacy lives on in my dad. That man right there, to whom she was married for more than 54 years. In many ways her polar opposite, but together a remarkable team. Her love and devotion and her very tender heart has undoubtedly and indelibly changed him. They balanced each other, challenged each other and found their way through life together, raising three kids with love and grace and leaning into their roles as grandparents in ways that brought out the absolute best in them both.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mom’s legacy lives on, in various forms, through my sisters and me. We might not bake like she did, or cry quite as easily (questionable), but I know when I look at my sisters I see so much of her beautiful and pure heart: her generosity, thoughtfulness and endless compassion. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">I look at those 9 faces there, those beautiful faces whom she loved more than I could ever say, in ways that were so specific, thoughtful and personal to each of them. And I know that without a doubt her story lives on through each of those precious grandchildren. If they inherit a fraction of her tender heart, sharp intellect or zest for life the world will be a better place. They are quite literally her living legacy and the ones whose losses grieve me the most, the ones who lost their Mormor. They were the very luckiest kids alive to have her and I would have done just about anything to keep their Mormor in their lives if I could have. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">I know it’s the easy way out to use words that aren’t my own, but I remember thinking years ago, when mom was still alive and well, that Nichole Nordeman’s song ‘Legacy’ could have been written about her. In it she says, “I want to leave a legacy, how will they remember me, did I choose to love, did I point to you enough to make a mark on things? I want to leave an offering. A child of mercy and grace who blessed your name unapologetically. I want to leave that kind of legacy.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">And that’s exactly what mom did.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">One of her last days in hospice, when speaking was becoming difficult, mom made a point of telling me she was concerned about me not having her around anymore, no longer having my love for her reciprocated. I assured her I am fortunate enough to be well-loved by so many, and more to the point, the love she spent a lifetime giving will not simply disappear.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">I don’t know if I will ever accept that she’s gone. I’m not sure I can. And maybe that’s OK, because then maybe she never really will be - not when she’s left all this love behind.</span></p>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-28308861108153958432021-12-29T16:35:00.002-08:002021-12-29T16:42:42.908-08:00Merry Christmas card 2021<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjf6iophpa89091vkwc_9sXV3SO0nb19dkVVJSYerETKtr9ykQW3qsu8GavotJM0va6y1JpTBCxVQHU1Fo0hqImjemoBtlcsL4830b-YKHvjXNl2InWJ-o1ZK0FXmTNhqrmTAvH1KQVswOqgya8EtmiK52Yi8AFDZcq7nsjtjNI3Xr4kP-sMVgDsAYquA=s800" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="800" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjf6iophpa89091vkwc_9sXV3SO0nb19dkVVJSYerETKtr9ykQW3qsu8GavotJM0va6y1JpTBCxVQHU1Fo0hqImjemoBtlcsL4830b-YKHvjXNl2InWJ-o1ZK0FXmTNhqrmTAvH1KQVswOqgya8EtmiK52Yi8AFDZcq7nsjtjNI3Xr4kP-sMVgDsAYquA=w400-h285" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">The Johnson family started 2021 with 4 COVID cases and is ending it with five fully vaccinated members! We are deeply grateful for this full circle. We took advantage of the flexibility of remote schooling and Adam's work with as many trips and getaways as we could fit in and even managed to extend our yearly New England visit to a full month as we added a special all-Hendrickson trip to enjoy limited, precious time together. Anna (11, grade 5) and Etta (7, grade 2) are thrilled to be back to in-person school this year and Thea (5) started Kindergarten this fall! They've all adapted well to the significant changes, but mom and dad have taken longer to get used to all the quiet after 18 months of being together 24/7. Adam has spent his time doing home projects (adding plumbing to his repertoire), and Sheri is allowing herself space to process and prioritize while taking on some interior design consulting work. We've welcomed the busy-ness of this slightly more normal fall with all the sports (so much soccer!), church, small group, Girl Scouts etc returning to in-person (albeit masked).</p><p style="text-align: center;">Joy and laughter fills our days, even as we struggle through some of our hardest times. Our People have shown us what it looks like to love well simply by showing up for us, and we are profoundly grateful for each of them, for you.</p><p style="text-align: center;">May peace, goodwill with all abide this Holy Christmastide,</p><p style="text-align: center;">Sheri, Adam, Anna, Etta & Thea</p>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-15108876686028095342020-12-22T17:56:00.003-08:002020-12-22T17:58:02.804-08:00Merry Christmas card 2020<p> <i>Since I've neglected this little blog entirely, I failed to post last year's Christmas card, but am sharing 2020s with two text versions, both equally true and indicative of just how much perspective and spin changes things - or just what mood I'm in when I write. :)</i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">*also, I can't upload the actual Christmas card because I'm having problems with the website. But here is our pic.</span></i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDUk1nwVNRy3N3zoTYbvkfFS_bNSFM3eleTUfEnxBPqAcQfLL7jwDzrGqyRH9WnKWbxfYF1-A7yNnKqNbVPj_iFzo4ZuMFmr49IfVm253PfRG5wmdBv6_mZ873Q7OBl_5d2lkFfX7xY8Bq/s2048/IMG_6356+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDUk1nwVNRy3N3zoTYbvkfFS_bNSFM3eleTUfEnxBPqAcQfLL7jwDzrGqyRH9WnKWbxfYF1-A7yNnKqNbVPj_iFzo4ZuMFmr49IfVm253PfRG5wmdBv6_mZ873Q7OBl_5d2lkFfX7xY8Bq/w400-h300/IMG_6356+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />When we look back on 2020 we see the chaos we've all experienced, the quarantine, the loneliness, the remote learning, everything that COVID so kindly gave us. We also remember the many trips and adventures we managed to safely take, the ways we coped, the memories we made together at home, the things we missed desperately, the things we didn't realize we take for granted, the fun we always manage to have. Our year was "unprecedented" as they like to say, not just with the macro-level crazy, but with personal pain and uncertainty - stories that shaped us but aren't ours to share. It's hard to put words on this year that I count as a great gift and a tremendous trial, a year that highlihgted our relentless privilege and good fortune, and a year that brought us to our knees. What we know with certainty looking back on this year so many of us would like to forget is while we are a little battered and bruised we remain the very luckiest people we know - we have each other and we have you. <p></p><p>Peace, goodwill with all abide this Holy Christmastide.</p><p>Love, Adam, Sheri, Anna (10), Etta (6.5) & Thea (4)</p><p><br /></p><p>alternate version:</p><p>Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!</p><p>2020 brought the Johnsons all kinds of mayhem and melancholy both COVID related and not. We started out the year on a high with a dream ski trip and then descended quickly into lock down, remote learning and fear, uncertainty and sadness. As a hospitalist at the VA here in Seattle, Adam has been taking care of COVID patients since March, but thankfully has avoided the virus himself (he has half a dozen tests to prove it!). Our social, active Anna (10!) has been living her worst nightmare without school, activities and sports. However, she has impressed and surprised us with her adaptability and her love for learning has enabled her to enjoy remote learning even as she mourns for in-person school and the million activities that make up her preferred schedule. Etta (6.5), meanwhile, is living her best life at home and with her family 24/7. Our little homebody has ne'er a complaint about what COVID has meant for her even as she 'claims' to miss school, church and friends. They both are fortunate to have fantastic teachers (4th and 1st grade) and a dear school family that we desperately miss. Thea, now 4, complains incessantly about missing her 'school' and Tot Bop and Story Time and gymastics and and and, however, since she now has pretty much constant attention from not 1 but 4 members of the family nobody feels that badly for her. I (Sheri) have clearly abandoned any career or hobby interests this year and focused on, well, getting us through this. While all my previous suspicions that homeschooling was not meant for me have been <b>clearly</b> verified, I find myself secretly grateful for all this low-key time that we've had together. I hate to admit that as anxious as I am for 'a return to normal' I'm going to miss having the girls home immensely - some times. </p><p>Because we are who we are and we know what we need, we took as many vacations, trips and adventures as we safely could and as always, those remain precious highlights for us. We so look forward to being able to travel freely to and with our people, whose absence we feel more keenly every single day.</p><p>Apart from our families and presented with more than our fair share of sobering news, this year has brought us plenty of pain and hardship, but we are also keenly aware of how privileged and lucky we are to be unscathed by this horrific pandemic and how fortunate we are to look back with <i>gratitude</i> on a time that brought us even closer when it's devastated and destroyed so very many. We remind ourselves to take nothing for granted and to be grateful for each and every day. </p><p>Which brings us to you, our dear family and friends. We miss you desperately and long for the day we can hug your faces again. </p><p>May peace, goodwill with all abide this Holy Christmastide.</p><p>Love, the Johnsons</p>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-89089927944167506842018-12-24T10:30:00.001-08:002018-12-24T10:31:26.244-08:00Merry Christmas Card 2018<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Merry Christmas!<br />
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2018 has been a great year for our little family with lots of travel and adventure. Anna (8, Grade 2) loves being the oldest child, school, soccer, <strike>ballet</strike>, gymnastics, soccer, sewing, soccer and keeping herself busy at all times. Etta (4.5) loves having her own life with HER preschool and ballet class. She's counting down the days until she's 5 and in Kindergarten (sob!) and wants nothing more than to be as big a kid as Anna. Thea (2) erroneously insists she's a "toddler" instead of a "baby" and continues to adore her big sisters even as she spends most of her time terrorizing them. We in turn adore her and her 'spunk', even though it might kill us. Speaking of things that might kill us, we began a kitchen remodel when school started and are hoping against hope that we'll be all done by the time all our parents/grandparents join us for Christmas (yay!).<br />
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We are grateful beyond measure for our many gifts and feel as though we are the luckiest family around.<br />
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May Peace, Goodwill with all abide this Holy Christmastide.<br />
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Love, Adam, Sheri, Anna, Etta & TheaSherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-13356301597990297732018-03-26T12:48:00.002-07:002018-03-26T12:48:39.984-07:00A better personIf there is one thing that I know for sure about parenthood, it's that being a mother has made me a better person. Unequivocally.<br />
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Don't mishear me, I'm no saint. But there are three small children who are with me all my waking hours, hear all the words I say, see the expressions on my face and know how I spend my time. Three children who look to me for guidance, love me fiercely and follow me blindly. For better or for worse, it's my voice they listen to, and my acceptance they strive for. I am acutely aware of my influence on their lives. It's a glorious burden to bear.<br />
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And so I'm learning that I have to actually BE the person I SAY I am. I hope it's not an enormous adjustment and that I've always lived some semblance of the principled life I have strived for. Even so, the alignment has become tighter and the details attended to more minute. We spend our time and our energy teaching our kids the values we hold most dear. We talk about what we stand for as a family, and are intentional about establishing overarching values and goals that influence our life on a grand scale and our parenting on a daily one. The conversations are endless, between Adam and I, and between us and our kids, seeking constantly to teach that they are loved, valued, cherished, accepted, safe. We revisit constantly the ways we can instill in them that they are brave, strong, kind, enough. We try to teach them to listen to their inner voice, to use their words to express their hearts, to stand firm in their convictions, to look out for others and themselves. To love big, fully, unconditionally. To be gracious, forgiving, thoughtful, giving. To be bold, courageous, adventurous. To be all the many things God created them to be. We worry, we stress, I may even obsess about how we can best equip these little wonders to be their best selves, to live their best lives, to make their world the best place it can be.<br />
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It's so hard.<br />
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And we fall SO short.<br />
<br />
But in the trying, we are succeeding, and where we fail we rely on God's grace.<br />
<br />
And we know that all our words will ring hollow if they stand alone.<br />
<br />
They are listening to our words, but they are copying our actions.<br />
<br />
I am constantly telling the girls they can do hard things, and so I must do hard things, too. I tell them I am proud of them, so I tell myself I'm proud of me, too. I want them to be unhindered and joyful, and so I sing and dance with abandon. I want them to stand up for themselves, so they hear me stand up for them, and for myself too. I want them to love reading and the world it will open for them, so I make sure they see their mother reading books instead of playing on my phone. I want them to use their beautiful imaginations and so I must engage with mine. I want them to love being outside, testing their limits, listening to their bodies and so I show them I do the same with mine. I want them to be persistent so they need to see my persistence. I want them to care about justice and the well-being of others so they need to see me out there, getting my hands dirty and doing the work I say I care about. I want them to cling fiercely to their beliefs and convictions so they need to see how firm I stand in mine. I want them to listen to the voices deep in their heart so I have to show them that I am listening to mine. I want them to follow their dreams so I have to show them that I am following mine, too.<br />
<br />
It's tremendously inconvenient to align my words with my actions, but it's profoundly freeing as well. One great gift of parenting has been learning that I, in fact, can be any type of person I want to be. It's not too late to be the things I hope my girls will be. In fact, it's necessary that I am.<br />
<br />
I want the world for them.<br />
<br />
I am claiming the world for myself.<br />
<br />
Raising our girls to be the best people they can be has forced my hand.Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-40208225157315373262017-12-25T13:33:00.000-08:002017-12-25T13:33:39.304-08:00Merry Christmas Card 2017<br />
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<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas!<br />
<br />
Since you last heard from us in 2015 (oops!), Thea Bea (Th-ee-ah Bee) joined our family and changed our lives in all the best and most inconvenient ways. If you walked into our house unannounced (please do!) you'd likely find Anna (now 7, Grade 1) jumping on the furniture or practicing a soccer or gymnastics 'move' and telling us in detail everything she did or learned or thought that day. Etta (3.5, preschool), singing a song, wearing a costume, and deep in imagination-land would be bringing out all the just put away choking hazards in the house and hiding Thea's toys where she can't reach. For her part, Thea, (15 mo) would be walking around screaming at the top of her lungs with a pair of Etta's underwear on her head and said choking hazard in her mouth while throwing our most valuable possessions in the trash, never to be seen again. Adam, home from work as a Hospitalist at theVA, would have 3 kids crawling all over him as he tries to tell Sheri about his day over the din of Casper Babypants. Sheri would be putting off making dinner, nodding politely, futilely asking everytone to PLEASE BE QUIET and wondering if she can go to bed yet.<br />
<br />
Other days, Adam's off work and we pick Anna up from school and see what local adventure we can fit in, what park we haven't yet explored, what beach we haven't been to recently. We dream about skiing as a family this winter, reminisce about the fun trips we've taken this last year (Panorama, the Cottage, Pilgrim Pines, Mesquite), dream about the ones that lie ahead and scheme about fitting in even more. We do our best to fill our days with wonder and fun, laughter and love, lots of fresh air and so very much joy. We feel without a doubt we're the very luckiest people around and we are so grateful.<br />
<br />
May Peace, Goodwill with all abide this Holy Christmastide.<br />
<br />
Love, the JohnsonsSherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-7906318000059784332017-09-05T08:15:00.001-07:002017-09-05T08:27:32.471-07:00SummerThis time tomorrow I will be frantically shoving scrambled eggs in my kids mouths and trying desperately not to be late for the first day of school. So, today I sit here in the quiet while my girls get one last sleep-in, enjoying my coffee and pre-breakfast cookie, waiting for them to emerge from their room sleepy-eyed and snuggly and not in any sort of rush at all.<br />
<br />
It's been the summer of water (lakes, sounds, oceans, creeks, pools, spray parks, wading pools, waterparks and sprinklers), of gymnastics and soccer and sports and swimming and biking. It was the summer of lost teeth, skinned knees and sandy feet. The summer of illness, too. It's been the summer of our backyard - parties and sprinklers and trampoline jumping; 'soup making' and flower crowns and tea parties and so many dinners on the deck. We went to war with the wasps and fed flies to the spiders and painted rocks and sold lemonade. We ate 'summer cereal' and too many treats, played board games on the deck and told bedtime stories on the trampoline as Thea crawled all over us. We sang Moana at the top of our lungs and would stay in the same clothes for days on end. It's been a summer of perfect weather and wide open windows. We had a July filled with big, special trips and an August filled with simple, special days. It was the summer Thea stopped being a little baby, Etta finished with diapers and Anna learned to braid her own hair. It was the summer of 'sisters' where an already tight bond grew immeasurably stronger which means, of course, it was the summer of bickering, too. It was the summer where I didn't get a moment to myself, checked nothing off my 'to do' list and didn't mind nearly as much as usual. It was a summer that wasn't as perfect as now it sounds, filled with its own frustrations big and small, and plenty a plaintiff 'what are we going to do today?' but now on this last day this is what I remember.<br />
<br />
And I am so grateful.Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-5600701620727052582017-01-26T11:47:00.001-08:002017-01-26T11:47:11.444-08:00JackOh my little women,<br />
<br />
We had to say goodbye to your cat brother yesterday, a couple days ago as Etta would say. It's been hard. So much harder than I ever imagined. You have been great, done great. You are so strong and resilient. Me, not so much. You miss him, well Anna does. Etta doesn't quite understand and Thea just blows bubbles. But Anna, you were sad, and brave and mostly protective and sorry for me. I'm proud of your resiliency. I hope we can let you process.<br />
<br />
I want you girls to know a little about him. He was wonderful. He was terrible, too, but we loved him so much and he loved you. He hated everyone, but he loved you fiercely.<br />
<br />
He was a crazy cat and could have been such a danger to you, but somehow he knew you were off limits. There were moments of course, but on the whole he put up with you and gave to you grace that he wouldn't begin to muster for anyone else. You loved him, even though you were scared of him. You were used to his presence and he made you laugh. He filled our house with so much craziness and frustration and love. We all felt it in so many ways.<br />
<br />
I'm sorry you had to experience loss this early in life and I'm so proud of how you have been facing it head on. You didn't run away from any of it. You even looked at his lifeless body and buried him in the backyard. You saw me cry and grieve in a way that you've never seen before and can't possibly understand. It scared you, I know and for that I'm sorry.<br />
<br />
But we're teaching you that it's OK to feel anything you feel. It's OK to be sad. And so, you must see me be sad and let me be sad. It's a hard lesson.<br />
<br />
When we were burying him I told you that being sad was OK because it showed how happy we were. If he hadn't been happy, if he hadn't meant so very much we wouldn't be sad. All emotions are connected and we hope to show you how to accept them, navigate them, embrace them even when it's so very hard.<br />
<br />
I'm devastated by this loss. I miss him more than I can ever say. I'm more sad than I thought I could be and I want to thank you for letting me. Thanks for the cards, and words and hugs and kisses and thanks for letting me cry.<br />
<br />
Jack loved you. I love you, too.<br />
<br />
Forever,<br />
<br />
MamaSherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-29964031197604124972016-11-09T12:37:00.001-08:002016-11-09T12:41:16.738-08:00Today, I grieve<i>I wrote this because I need desperately to process and grieve. If you feel differently by all means enjoy your unencumbered heart, but please refrain from dishonoring mine with your words.</i><br />
<br />
Anna's school canceled a lock-down drill today because children were coming to school anxious and scared about the results of last night's election and didn't need to be reminded that someone might come in and shoot them in their classroom.<br />
<br />
Let that sink in for a moment.<br />
<br />
Last night Anna learned that Hillary Clinton might lose the election. She cried. She asked me if Donald Trump was going to kill her because she heard kids said that he is a 'bad guy' and that's what they do in movies. I comforted her and told her (again) that he's not a 'bad guy' and he wasn't going to kill anyone. I told her it was still early and we wouldn't know until the morning who won. I told her it was going to be OK no matter what happened. I thought about how sad it is that she might grow up scared of the next President regardless of the logic. I thought about how there are many real reasons to fear.<br />
<br />
This morning Anna came into our room and asked who won the election. I swallowed hard, looked away and took a deep breath. I struggled to keep my voice steady and stated that Donald Trump did. She saw my tears and she cried, too. She kept saying that she was sorry and she kept asking if <i>it</i> was going to be OK. I kept telling her that <i>she</i> would be OK. I told her nothing would change in <i>our</i> family or <i>our</i> house. I told her it was even more important now that we are kind and love and take care of the people that Donald Trump isn't so nice to. She asked if he would be mean to her and I said of course not and that she would probably never meet him, but that if she did he would probably be really nice to <i>her.</i><br />
<br />
I was going to wake Anna up last night and bring her downstairs to see the first female be elected President of the United States of America. I was going to share that seminal moment with her. A moment that would have been historic and powerful for me, but would have been normal for her. She wasn't going to have to know any better.<br />
<br />
But here we are trying to find the words to calm her fears without lying to her and lying to her anyway because we don't know how to tell her that this man who is hateful to so many, who has said things we can't repeat, who wants to turn away the very people Jesus wants us to invite in will be leading this country. I can't look her in the eye and tell her everything is OK when millions of people decided to put him in charge despite all this, or worse, because all this. It is <i>not</i> OK.<br />
<br />
I went to bed lying to myself that it was going to be alright and woke up this morning with the realization that I'm not so much scared of what he will do, or try to do, but I am absolutely terrified by what <i>has been done.</i> Hatred, bigotry, sexism, racism and fear has been endorsed by millions upon millions of Americans. Make no mistake, a vote is an endorsement.<br />
<br />
And this is where we are raising our daughters.<br />
<br />
I was praying in the shower, tears falling down my face. I felt grateful and guilty with the realization that our children will probably remain largely directly unaffected, that in fact some of the unjust systems that will be perpetuated are the systems from which they already benefit. I felt angry and scared that we teach our daughters proper terminology and consent so they can protect themselves from the very thing that the President elect has bragged about doing. I felt helpless that he was elected despite such fervent and vocal opposition and then convicted that in fact for those of us who believe that love truly does trump hate that <i>the work has just now begun</i>.<br />
<br />
I believe this - that now is when the real work begins. We fight back. We love bigger, we give more generously, we believe the best in people, we advocate for others. We don't give up. We don't agree with the vitriol coming from the White House so we model grace and compassion and justice in our homes. Our children may not see decency and character or even common courtesy in leadership but they will see it in us. We live with integrity. We live what we believe. We will be the change we want so desperately to see.<br />
<br />
Yet...<br />
<br />
Her school canceled a lock-down drill today because children were coming to school anxious and scared about the results of last night's election and didn't need to be reminded that someone might come in and shoot them in their classroom. And this morning, in that very classroom where they practice those drills, Anna put her hand over her heart and pledged allegiance to this country.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
I remain committed to the good work, to sharing the Love and living in hope, but today, today I just need to cry.Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-69180355726696946812016-11-09T12:37:00.000-08:002016-11-09T12:40:31.316-08:00Today, I grieve<i>I wrote this because I need desperately to process and grieve. If you feel differently by all means enjoy your unencumbered heart, but please refrain from dishonoring mine with your words.</i><br />
<br />
Anna's school canceled a lock-down drill today because children were coming to school anxious and scared about the results of last night's election and didn't need to be reminded that someone might come in and shoot them in their classroom.<br />
<br />
Let that sink in for a moment.<br />
<br />
Last night Anna learned that Hillary Clinton might lose the election. She cried. She asked me if Donald Trump was going to kill her because she heard kids said that he is a 'bad guy' and that's what they do in movies. I comforted her and told her (again) that he's not a 'bad guy' and he wasn't going to kill anyone. I told her it was still early and we wouldn't know until the morning who won. I told her it was going to be OK no matter what happened. I thought about how sad it is that she might grow up scared of the next President regardless of the logic. I thought about how there are many real reasons to fear.<br />
<br />
This morning Anna came into our room and asked who won the election. I swallowed hard, looked away and took a deep breath. I struggled to keep my voice steady and stated that Donald Trump did. She saw my tears and she cried, too. She kept saying that she was sorry and she kept asking if <i>it</i> was going to be OK. I kept telling her that <i>she</i> would be OK. I told her nothing would change in <i>our</i> family or <i>our</i> house. I told her it was even more important now that we are kind and love and take care of the people that Donald Trump isn't so nice to. She asked if he would be mean to her and I said of course not and that she would probably never meet him, but that if she did he would probably be really nice to <i>her.</i><br />
<br />
I was going to wake Anna up last night and bring her downstairs to see the first female be elected President of the United States of America. I was going to share that seminal moment with her. A moment that would have been historic and powerful for me, but would have been normal for her. She wasn't going to have to know any better.<br />
<br />
But here we are trying to find the words to calm her fears without lying to her and lying to her anyway because we don't know how to tell her that this man who is hateful to so many, who has said things we can't repeat, who wants to turn away the very people Jesus wants us to invite in will be leading this country. I can't look her in the eye and tell her everything is OK when millions of people decided to put him in charge despite all this, or worse, because all this. It is <i>not</i> OK.<br />
<br />
I went to bed lying to myself that it was going to be alright and woke up this morning with the realization that I'm not so much scared of what he will do, or try to do, but I am absolutely terrified by what <i>has been done.</i> Hatred, bigotry, sexism, racism and fear has been endorsed by millions upon millions of Americans. Make no mistake, a vote is an endorsement.<br />
<br />
And this is where we are raising our daughters.<br />
<br />
I was praying in the shower, tears falling down my face. I felt grateful and guilty with the realization that our children will probably remain largely directly unaffected, that in fact some of the unjust systems that will be perpetuated are the systems from which they already benefit. I felt angry and scared that we teach our daughters proper terminology and consent so they can protect themselves from the very thing that the President elect has bragged about doing. I felt helpless that he was elected despite such fervent and vocal opposition and then convicted that in fact for those of us who believe that love truly does trump hate that <i>the work has just now begun</i>.<br />
<br />
I believe this - that now is when the real work begins. We fight back. We love bigger, we give more generously, we believe the best in people, we advocate for others. We don't give up. We don't agree with the vitriol coming from the White House so we model grace and compassion and justice in our homes. Our children may not see decency and character or even common courtesy in leadership but they will see it in us. We live with integrity. We live what we believe. We will be the change we want so desperately to see.<br />
<br />
Yet...<br />
<br />
Her school canceled a lock-down drill today because children were coming to school anxious and scared about the results of last night's election and didn't need to be reminded that someone might come in and shoot them in their classroom. And this morning, in that very classroom where they practice those drills, Anna put her hand over her heart and pledged allegiance to this country.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
I remain committed to the good work, to sharing the Love and living in hope, but today, today I just need to cry.Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-29452225111074803692016-09-13T10:15:00.005-07:002016-09-13T10:15:44.112-07:00What I want her Kindergarten teacher to know<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>I wrote this a couple weeks ago. Since then we've met with her teacher and she's had her first day. I'm proud to report she enjoyed her first day of school and I was more or less able to reign myself in during our meeting. Her teacher told us that his goals are for each student to feel valued, safe and respected. I didn't have much to add after that.</i><br />
<br />
Next week we meet with Anna's Kindergarten teacher before school starts. These meetings are new this year. They want to provide a time for parents and teachers to meet and talk about the student and what the parents hope for their child in their first year in school.<br />
<br />
Anna will be in Mr. Zillig's class and the first thing I want to tell him is that I'm sorry he has to have these meetings. I mean, honestly. He has to sit with 25 odd parents and hear how special their kid is and all the ways in which he should cater to them specifically and I'm pretty sure his job is already hard enough.<br />
<br />
I also want to tell him that he IS SO INCREDIBLY LUCKY TO HAVE ANNA IN HIS CLASS BECAUSE SHE IS THE MOST SPECIAL GIRL IN THE WORLD AND HE BETTER TREAT HER RIGHT.<br />
<br />
So there's that.<br />
<br />
However, I strive to be a semi-rational being (despite post-partum hormones) so I'm going to go for something in between if I can find the words. How do we begin to tell him about our girl? This nuanced, complex, phenomenal human being? How do we put to words the hopes and worries we have for her as she ventures into the rest of her life? How do we remove <i>our</i> neuroses and baggage and focus on <i>her</i>? It's a tall order, and there will always be more I will want to tell him if only I could find the words or had the nerve.<br />
<br />
But for now, this is what I want to say:<br />
<br />
Our greatest hope for Anna this year has nothing to do with reading and writing. Our biggest wish is simply this: that she will be seen, that she will be known, that she will be safe.<br />
<br />
We want her to be seen. Simply to be <i>seen</i>. Not lost in the shuffle or overlooked because she is compliant and well behaved. We want her to be noticed. Please try to <i>see</i> her.<br />
<br />
We want her to be known. We want her to be known in the ways that she will reveal herself to you, to us, to the world as she continues to grow and learn. We want her to be validated and encouraged and challenged. We hope she will be known for who she truly is, and not who you think she will be, nor whom we have described her to be, but who she is. Please try to get to <i>know</i> her.<br />
<br />
We want her to be safe. I worry for her physical safety and I long for her emotional security. We hope for a safe place to be herself - to feel her big feelings, to share her huge heart, to bear her vulnerable self when she so chooses. We want her to feel safe to learn and question and push her boundaries. Please try to keep her <i>safe</i>.<br />
<br />
She's a girl filled with emotions so big and so strong and so powerful. Her compassion, empathy and passion are her guiding light, and they are her achilles heel. She is deeply thoughtful and caring, affectionate and loyal. She is keenly sensitive and empathetic. She is an observer and takes her time, makes up her own mind and commits to something with no less than 100% devotion, persistence and dedication. She is determined to the point of obstinance and frustrated so very easily. So easily. She demands perfection of herself and will either give up in a fit of frustration or work tirelessly till she accomplishes her goal. She is not thick skinned, but will put up with any amount of blood and pain and sweat if, and only if, it's her decision. She's a leader, but not a loud one. She's a team player yet she's fiercely competitive. She cares about everyone and everything and feels the pain of all around her. Chances are she will do well in school. She is social, self-sufficient, craves structure and order and simply LOVES to learn.<br />
<br />
She will light up the classroom with that smile of hers and she could set the world on fire with all the love she has inside.<br />
<br />
She's a million things all at once. And she's our baby girl.<br />
<br />
And so that is our loftiest hope - that you might see her, know her and keep her safe.Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-83305844116498856242016-08-23T10:08:00.004-07:002016-08-23T10:10:14.969-07:00Anna, in her preschool teachers' words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Anna absolutely loved preschool. She loved it from day one. She thrived. She was safe, she was known, she was happy. She loved her teachers and they loved her. We had a tight knit group of students and parents who took care of each other. We are so grateful for the two years she spent there, and we miss it already.<br />
<br />
It was such a gift to have teachers who were invested in their students and who truly delighted in them. They understood Anna and they appreciated her for her. I brought them a copy of Dr Seuss' 'Oh, the Places You Will Go' and asked them to write a few words to her. I'm so very glad I did. You should see her face when I read their words to her (through my tears).<br />
<br />
Here's what they had to say:<br />
<br />
Anna,<br />
<br />
I am so excited for your future and for the person you will become, because already, at 5 years old - you lead with your heart. During times of challenge, you will succeed if you remember to stick to your heart, because it is strong and smart. I have had the best time being your teacher, not because of what I have taught you, but what I have learned from you. The kindness and creativity you share - it is both impressive and delightful. I hope you always go through life with the same unique, imaginative spirit that you had here.<br />
<br />
Forever wishing you well,<br />
<br />
Miss Caty<br />
<br />
Anna,<br />
<br />
Thank you so much for all the love and light you bring into the classroom every day. Your kindness and enthusiasm for learning is so infectious - one of my favorite things about being a teacher has been looking out during circle time and seeing your eyes light up as we talk about the world and new ideas.<br />
<br />
Anna, your future is as BIG as your heart. There's no doubt in my mind that you will succeed at everything you put your mind to. Because already, at five years old you carry such a strong sense of who you are and I admire you so much because of that. You are a brave leader; I can't wait to witness all the amazing things you'll achieve!<br />
<br />
I'll miss your giggles and stylish sunglasses! Keep on smiling. :)<br />
<br />
Forever your friend,<br />
<br />
Miss CC<br />
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<br />Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-60569277971724320312015-12-22T12:54:00.001-08:002015-12-22T12:56:48.602-08:00Joy to the World<i>This last Sunday I shared why Joy to the World is one of my favorite Christmas carols. In typical fashion, I didn't write it out and so stuttered and hemmed and hawed, struggling to articulate the words in my head. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>This is what I was trying to say.</i><br />
<br />
I love advent. I cherish the time of preparation, the solemn darkness of the weeks leading up to Christmas. I'm glad we don't skip over advent and rush straight into Christmas, missing all the nuances, all the reasons why Christmas <i>is</i>. We reflect on the peace, hope, joy, and light that Christmas will bring. And we long. Oh, how we long. O Come, O Come Emmanuel! It speaks to my heart, advent does.<br />
<br />
And this year advent has felt particularly important, relevant, needed. But it's also felt extra dark. The darkness that we live in both figuratively and literally is heavy and thick. We need no reminders. We are already longing for the light.<br />
<br />
But sometimes I long so much for peace and hope and light I forget about joy. How dare we dream of <i>joy</i> when peace and love and even basic kindness seem so far from reach? Joy is audacious. Joy is a luxury. How do we sing of joy in a world so broken?<br />
<br />
I feel comfortable in advent - ruminating, praying, hoping, expecting. I know how to live here, waiting for the light to come.<br />
<br />
I'm not so good at proclaiming that the light HAS come to a world still so dark.<br />
<br />
But at Christmas we rejoice! We are given a reason, THE reason to rejoice, and the joy is undeniable. We claim it. We proclaim it. We sing Joy to the World and we remember that there is joy - great joy and we rejoice. As we should.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
Joy to the World reminds me of my Grandpa, a most joy-filled man. I can hear him singing loudly, swinging his arms and holding the notes longer than everyone else for extra emphasis. Joy to the World reminds me of times spent singing Christmas carols around my mom's piano and it reminds me of a drive home from the mountains when Adam and I sang carols a cappella with my grandparents the whole way home. It reminds me of Grandpa leading the Christmas Eve service when he would visit our church in Calgary and how we'd end with candles and Silent Night. But as I remember it, Joy to the World was the real finale, the most fitting way to end a Christmas service. Because... JOY also, has the final word.<br />
<br />
JOY TO THE WORLD<br />
The Lord is come<br />
Let earth receive her King<br />
Let every heart prepare him room<br />
And heaven and nature sing<br />
And heaven and nature sing<br />
And heaven and heaven and nature sing<br />
<br />
Joy to the earth<br />
the Savior reigns<br />
Let all their songs employ<br />
While fields and floods<br />
Rocks, hills and plains<br />
Repeat the sounding joy<br />
Repeat the sounding joy<br />
Repeat, repeat the sounding joy<br />
<br />
No more let sin and sorrows grow<br />
Nor thorns infest the ground<br />
He comes to make his blessings flow<br />
Far as the curse is found<br />
Far as the curse is found<br />
Far as, far as, the curse is found.<br />
<br />
amen.Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-90395706058672701102015-12-15T12:08:00.000-08:002015-12-15T12:08:08.356-08:00a letter to a friend - on pregnancy<i>I have a couple of friends who are expecting their first babies soon. One wrote to me asking for advice and opinions on baby gear and maternity clothes. This is what I wrote instead because this is what I have to say (barely edited, unpolished). She said it should be published so I'm posting it here. Maybe you need to hear the words, too.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Oh my dear friend,<br />
<br />
Pregnancy is super fun isn't it? I hope you let yourself feel EVERYTHING that you feel and don't listen to anyone's nonsense of how it's supposed to be. Don't let anyone make you feel like this pregnancy erases the pain of your last. Actually, don't listen to anyone at all.<br />
<br />
I loved being pregnant with Anna when I didn't hate it. Less so with Etta. And there's all the stress and worry and disappointment when you're trying and then the fear amplifies when you're finally pregnant and simply explodes when your baby is born.<br />
<br />
It's all crazy.<br />
<br />
And so SO hard.<br />
<br />
BUT.<br />
<br />
Through all the terrible parts of it: the illness, the loss of control and autonomy, the mourning of a closing of a chapter, and all the crazy hormones there is still this... a baby. And no matter what happens, just as it was the first time but surely with a happier ending this time, your life will be forever changed. And I would say that it's always hard and never easy but oh my goodness, so profoundly incredible.<br />
<br />
As far as pregnancy and baby advice I mean it when I say don't listen to anyone. Seriously. Other than this: don't be an a**hole - vaccinate your kids. Also, you need LESS stuff than you think. Way less. But most of all, in pregnancy, in motherhood, in all things - GRACE. Give yourself some grace. If you're like you'll feel like a huge screw up all the time and convinced you have ruined your kids forever. You'll look at these most beautiful, awe-inspiring creatures and think that you have taken all the good in them and tarnished it will all your terrible parenting and you will torture yourself with regret and good intentions. So try to remember the wise words of Glennon Doyle Melton and 'don't be so busy trying to raise a good kid that you forget you HAVE a good kid.' You will love your kid well so you have already won this war. Plus you have your husband and he's amazing. A husband who is truly your partner in this and a dad who will really be a parent. And you are strong - so strong and level, grounded. So remember that. Don't forget who you are.<br />
<br />
And there's this. I still tell Anna every night that I love her more than anyone has ever loved anything ever before. I know it's not true, but I feel like it is. And every time I say it I feel a bit heretical knowing a God whose love is so much greater than any I can comprehend. But I say it because caveats are confusing, but I remember that there IS that caveat and am grateful to my toes for it. I don't <i>feel</i> God's love the way I <i>feel</i> the all-consuming love for my kids and there is guilt with that for sure. But I'm learning and understanding God's love in an all new way. I never knew I could love something so much, and it just blows me away to fathom a love greater than this. And to share that with my kids, to have them feel secure and grounded in all this Love, well how incredible is that?! By extension I'm understanding how loved I am a little better, too.<br />
<br />
This is the bad news... the fear, the knowing better - that doesn't go away. And sadly for you, you know all too well the reasons we have to fear. And I don't know how things will be for you. I don't know if your loss will highlight your gratitude or shadow it, or more likely, both. But I know that being a parent is the most gut-wrenching, terrifying, disorienting experience I can imagine. And there is so much fear. I don't know how to cope with it other than living with it but I do know that the joy that is found in the present is stronger than the fear that lies in the future. Most of the time. Minute by minute, the little undeniable joys of parenthood make the fear and the uncertainty worth it somehow. It's only in letting myself feel the joy (and there is so much) that I am starting to combat the ever persistent fear. It's hard to do, wanting instead to to hedge against my fear so there isn't so much to lose (God forbid) but when I let myself enjoy all I have, oh my goodness, what joy there is. Learn to embrace the joy.<br />
<br />
So... I've answered none of your questions and rambled about nothing but for today that is what I have.<br />
<br />
Feel all the feels.<br />
Give yourself some grace.<br />
Vaccinate your kids.<br />
<br />
I love you, I really do. You are one of the good ones.<br />
<br />
xo,<br />
<br />
Sheri<br />
<br />
<br />Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-24479986260003116902015-12-10T11:32:00.001-08:002015-12-10T11:32:54.094-08:00Merry Christmas Card - 2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Merry Christmas from the Johnsons!<br />
<br />
Our 2015 was filled with love, laughter and a whole lot of fun. Anna (5) and Etta (1.5) bring us so much joy with their silly, sassy and sweet selves. We kept busy this year traveling to visit family and making memories of our own in our beloved Seattle.<br />
<br />
We're grateful for you and miss you. Please come visit!<br />
<br />
Praying that peace, goodwill with all abide this Holy Christmastide,<br />
<br />
Adam, Sheri, Anna & Etta JohnsonSherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-36742503025875202502015-11-24T11:43:00.002-08:002015-11-24T11:43:11.885-08:00hard conversationsThe other morning at breakfast Anna and I were reviewing safety drills: what to do if there is a fire, an earthquake, a gun.<br />
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I had a stomach ache the whole time we were talking and she was crawling around on her knees, looking for a safe spot to wait out the imaginary earthquake. My anxiety is bad enough. I don't need help imagining all the horrific things that could happen to our daughters. I <b>hate</b> these conversations. I <b>hate</b> this reality.<br />
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Later that day I faced another not-so-fun conversation as Anna headed off to a new friend's house for a playdate: the ever-awkward 'do you have a gun in your house' talk. It's great preschool drop-off chit chat. 'Is your daughter feeling better? Nice to have a break from the rain, isn't it? Do you have a (unsecured) gun in the house?'<br />
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It's not my <i>favorite</i> conversation. I'd really rather skip it.<br />
<br />
But I didn't skip it. And the other mom thanked me for it. She's new to this country and she's terrified of the guns, too. She was glad to know that others asked. She wants to ask. These hard conversations may be the least we can do but at least they are something we can do.<br />
<br />
This all makes me so mad. I hate that we have to have these conversations. I'm furious this is our reality. And I'm so very, very angry at my inability to do anything about it. It's bad enough that the earth beneath us could start shaking at any moment and literally bring everything around us crumbling to the ground. But guns? Terrorists? Violence? She's going to Kindergarten next year and there she will learn what to do if someone comes into her classroom and starts shooting. They have to teach that now, just like stop, drop and roll. And she has to learn it because, oh God, because.<br />
<br />
I don't know how to keep her safe. I can't keep her safe. It's the most unfair and horrible part of parenting. It's enough to paralyze me. I don't know what to do other than have the hard conversations.Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-63203400966300465262015-11-10T12:09:00.000-08:002015-11-10T15:36:33.118-08:00I writeI have something to say and if I don't say it now I worry I might never.<br />
<br />
I write.<br />
<br />
Not necessarily well, and maybe never professionally. I will likely never get paid, and it doesn't really matter to me if others read my words.<br />
<br />
What matters to me is that I write.<br />
<br />
I wrote an email response to a friend today. I typed the words that were on my heart without edit or caveat. I let the words come naturally and fully. Not what I had planned on writing but what was truly on my heart. Just that simple act, an email, and my heart felt lighter, more settled because writing, as it turns out, is my catharsis.<br />
<br />
And there are so many reasons why I haven't written, and why I may not still. But for today, I write.<br />
<br />
I write because I want my girls to find their voices and to use them. I owe it to them to do the same.<br />
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I write because I am learning to say 'yes'. Out of self preservation I default to 'no' but I have been discovering the freedom that can come in saying 'yes'.<br />
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I write because in writing I make sense of my thoughts, my fears, my world. It connects me to myself, grounds me, calms me. It's the cheapest and most effective therapy I know.<br />
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I write because I do it anyway, all the time. Even though I rarely get them down, I formulate my thoughts into words constantly: in the shower, at night when I lay awake, in the car while I'm driving. And I wish I had them all recorded, all those thoughts, because for me writing is my living archive - the best way I know to process and preserve what is important to me. I write to my girls privately, sharing with them as honestly and openly and without any reservation what my heart longs for them to know, what I fear I've failed to express, what I desperately need them to remember. God forbid something happens to me, the biggest gift I can leave my girls are my words because in reading my words they will know my heart. And my heart is really all I have to give.<br />
<br />
I write because of a few words of encouragement I've recently received. The kind of words that mean something from a voice that doesn't placate. Unsolicited, measured, premeditated, and heartfelt words that will give me life should I let them. Words that ought to be taken to heart.<br />
<br />
I write because that voice in my head that reminds me that there are millions of better writers out there so why should I bother is a lie. I write so that I may name that lie. I write to fight its power. I write because my voice might not be a great one, but it is uniquely mine.<br />
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I write because life is short but it's never too late.<br />
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And I write because of that fire in my bones, simmering always there under the surface. Because when I write I can feel the warmth of the flames.<br />
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<br />Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-69026152405175916672015-05-06T14:34:00.001-07:002015-05-06T16:44:07.647-07:00Roots and Wings and learning to walkI'm changing Etta's diaper this morning kissing her belly, listening to her sweet coos, feeling her soft hands on my face, heart full and overflowing with gratitude and joy. And I can't help but think: it's only days now, really. Just days.<br />
<br />
It will be days until she's walking and crawling will be a thing of the past. The delight we get in watching her bum sway from side to side as she quickly scoots across the room will be no more. It'll be days too until she's using more and more 'real' words, less baby talk, less cooing. Days until she's fully toddler and not so much baby. One of these days she won't throw herself on the ground and roll around in ecstasies of delight and soon she'll stop crawling over to us just to give a hug, complete with a pat pat on the back. She might stop saying MUAH as she generously gives us 'almost' all the kisses we ask for. She might even stop giving us kisses. She might not nod her head in the same way, or say no so cutely and shake her head so violently that it makes us laugh for much longer. One of these days she won't giggle the same way and her buck tooth grin will give way to a smile full of teeth. Her perfectly plump legs will continue to thin out until what was 3 rolls becomes none at all. She'll find more words and stop using 'dis!' for everything she wants and 'mama' for everything she loves. She'll stop grinning and kissing everything and sticking her bottom lip out and crying when we say no.<br />
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And I know, I know that there will be new things. New moments. New delights. Better ones even.<br />
<br />
But still. As we all know, it goes by SO fast.<br />
<br />
And so I think about my ultimate parenting goal. The motto that hung on a plaque in my grandparents home. One that struck me even from a young age:<br />
<br />
There are two gifts we should give our children: one is roots and the other is wings.<br />
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Roots and wings, eh?<br />
<br />
Simple and impossible at the same time. One can't have both roots and wings! And yet that's what we do in this thing called parenting. This is what we try to equip them with. This is <i>it</i>. Really! Roots and wings.<br />
<br />
Roots that go deep so they know they are safe, secure, loved, accepted. Family and friends and community and traditions that allow their roots to grow deep and strong. So they know who they are, whose they are, where they belong. Roots that help them weather the storms that will come their way. Roots that give them strength and nourishment to grow tall. Roots that anchor them tight as year after year they stretch to the skies and grow. To reach for the sun - the light that nourishes. Roots? Yes, I want to give them roots.<br />
<br />
And wings. Wings to fly? Do I really want them to fly? Away from me and the relative safety I fool myself into thinking I provide? The answer is yes. A resounding and begrudging yes. I want to give them wings - their very own pair that will look nothing like mine. Wings that will take them where they want to go. Wings that will scare and excite with their speed and strength. Wings that will push their limits and open their horizons. Wings that will overwhelm with the thrill and promise of freedom. Wings that will let them explore and soar. Wings that will let them be who they are created to be. Wings that will let them <b>live</b>. Wings? Yes, I want to give them wings as much as I might be tempted to clip them.<br />
<br />
So Etta's learning to walk. She's in that stage where she can stand on her own and could take a step if she dared but she seems set on building her stability first. Practice, practice, practice. She's not sure she trusts her legs yet. She knows what she wants, but she's intent on the process right now. She's showing more restraint and patience than we have come to expect from her. She wants to walk, you can see the desperation in her eyes, but for now she wants to hold my hand. She wants the guidance and stability I give her, but the freedom her own feet provide. She stands on her own and holds position, huge grin on her face, looking around for applause, encouragement. And then back to crawling because it's what she knows. Little by little. Day by day. She's learning to walk. She's scared. She's excited. She wants to hold her Mama's hand. I'm scared. I'm excited. I don't ever want her to let go.<br />
<br />
She's learning to walk and all I can think about are roots and wings.Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-89993992159578073002014-12-16T15:28:00.001-08:002014-12-16T15:31:02.480-08:00Jul Fest (and a repost)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Two years ago I wrote this post, <a href="http://arrangingpieces.blogspot.com/2012/12/tears.html" target="_blank">tears</a>, about Jul Fest at our church and it is one of my most read and shared posts. Reading it now I want to say it all again: how I love our church, how I miss my grandparents, how quickly Anna is growing up, how weepy I still am. Except now she IS the four that I alluded to back then. She WAS a pepparkakor girl this year and even last year at three she was up there singing her little heart out. I will never forget the ladies behind me murmuring about how cute my little just-turned-three girl was walking up there with all the big kids, eyes wide and mouth open. I will always remember her face searching the crowd for mine and her huge, proud grin when our eyes locked. Or the way she broke from the line and ran straight into my arms after she was done. Talk about tears indeed.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>This year she had no nap and a meltdown prior to the performance and it was hit or miss whether she would wear the 'gingerbread' costume after all. But we witnessed a Jul Fest miracle and she danced around in a circle with her little buddies - again with the sheepish little grin on her face. And this year Grandpa and Mormor were there to see her. And my heart burst once more.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Both years she sat on my lap to watch the big girls in the Santa Lucia pageant and has talked about it ever since. The girls with the candles, the singing, when is it her turn, does she get to wear a white dress next year? Someday when she's an adult will she be the Santa girl? Will she get to sing in church too?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>And I tell her, yes baby girl, you probably will. You'll probably be the Santa Lucia girl someday. Probably the next time I blink.</i><br />
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<br />
I cried through the Jul Fest program at church the other day.<br />
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I cried watching all the little kids in their costumes singing the cute Swedish songs. Some of these kids I'm getting to know; all of these kids I already love. </div>
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I cried looking at the various people from church who played instruments, and sang, and made cookies, and volunteered so many hours and poured their hearts into this concert. I was moved to tears thinking about their devotion and love for our church. I cried because I love these people, and because I love this church.</div>
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I cried looking at the faces of dear friends who have made all the difference in our lives this last year and a half. Friends who snuck into our hearts and lives in unexpected ways and make them so much better, fuller.</div>
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I was crying because it will only be two years before Anna is up there in a silly gingerbread costume in front of all these people. It's easy to picture her little eager face up there singing her heart out and it's already too much for me to take. She's two too soon and when I blink she will be four and I cry because it's flying by, and life moves so quickly and this is our only shot, our only life and I keep waiting thinking it's supposed to be something more when it is already so much more than enough.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I was moved to tears singing the old swedish hymns thinking how much my grandparents would love Jul Fest and how I should have found a way to get Grandpa here for it this year. I cried because I miss them, I feel guilty for not seeing them more and because it will be my first Christmas home in Calgary without them. I couldn't control my emotions as a particularly beautiful memory came to mind of when Adam and I drove home from Banff with them one Christmas and sang our favorite hymns together a cappela in the car. I cried because I love them so much, and I cried because for most intents and purposes, Grandma is already gone. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I most definitely cried watching sweet Linnea, a girl from our church with some significant limitations, beaming with delight as she participated in the Lucia pageant. Waving at everyone with such unadulterated joy and pride. She was so poignantly beautiful. </div>
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And for sure I cried while we closed the service with Silent Night. Hundreds of voices echoing through the sanctuary that beautiful, haunting carol. Thinking of the many Christmas Eve services at my home church and how incredibly grateful I am for those people and that church and the legacy of faith that I have been gifted with. </div>
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I have been crying a lot lately, but mostly tears of joy, or gratitude. Bittersweet tears, many of them. Thankfulness mingling with loss. Relief mingling with grief. A beautiful release.</div>
Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-56227918994864455372014-12-15T13:37:00.001-08:002014-12-15T14:16:14.334-08:00Merry Christmas card 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
2014 has been a wonderful year! Etta Jane joined us March 21st and brings us so much fullness and joy. Anna, at four and in preschool, is as sassy, smart & sweet as ever. We are blessed with our home, Adam's work, church, friends and family nearby.<br />
<br />
We remain madly in love with Seattle as we continue to miss those of you who are so far away. Please come visit!<br />
<br />
Praying that peace, goodwill with all abide this holy Christmastide.<br />
<br />
Adam, Sheri, Anna & EttaSherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-46711038777308527292014-06-30T09:20:00.002-07:002014-06-30T09:20:33.859-07:00Dear new owners (lucky you)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Dear new owners of 1311,<br />
<br />
Congratulations on your new house. I hope you know how lucky you are.<br />
<br />
That house you just bought is so much more than four walls. <a href="http://arrangingpieces.blogspot.com/2013/01/its-been-over-13-years-since-i-last.html" target="_blank">My family's entire history is in that house</a>, and let me tell you, it's a good one.<br />
<br />
It's time for my parents to move on, and I guess it's time for new memories to be made. So, I begrudgingly wish you well. I hope that house is as good to you as it has been to my family for the last 38 years, and I hope you are good to it.<br />
<br />
I hope you fill that house with lots of love, laughter and tears. Leave the door wide open to friends and family, and let everyone know they are welcome there. The house has hosted thousands of guests for holidays and dinners and showers and Grey Cups. It's at its best when it's full of life. So fill it.<br />
<br />
Make friends with all your neighbours and raise your kids together. Let your kids run and play in the park all year long. Watch them from the kitchen window on the playground, or playing baseball and hide and seek. Plant sweet peas in the side yard and peas and carrots in the garden. Get your kids to help you pick the crab apples in the summer and shovel the driveway in the winter - you will come to regret that it's double wide. Go sledding in the park when they are really little and move to the one across the street when they are a little bigger. Make snowmen and snow ice cream in the winter and run through the sprinkler and after the ice cream truck in the summer. Use the chimney as a backstop for tennis and you should really know that the basketball hoop is a foot too high. Take swimming lessons at the neighbourhood pool and let your kids drink lots and lots of slurpees, but make sure they never hang out there. Find the shortcuts to 7-11 and the tennis courts and let your kids ride their bikes around the neighbourhood and down to Fish Creek.<br />
<br />
I hope your kids love that house as much as we do. I hope they chase each other around the kitchen-dining room-living room loop, slide down the stairs on their bums and leap over the back of the couch. I hope they imagine that the sparkles on the ceiling are the flash of tigers claws in the attic and that Babbling Brook is really the bridge to Terabithia. I hope they play for hours and hours in the basement and have a healthy fear of the storage room. I hope they share stories about their day when they brush their teeth together in the upstairs bathroom and that you eat together every night at the kitchen table. I hope they get excited every single time they see a deer in the backyard, even if it is every day. I hope they welcome the familiar sound of footsteps on the front stairs or of the garage door opening, signaling that someone has come home.<br />
<br />
Keep your keys on the top of the fridge and assign odd names to each kitchen cabinet such as 'peanut butter cupboard'. Never ever oil the linen closet upstairs as the squeal is oddly comforting. Leave the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceilings. Your kids will love them. Keep the bedroom windows open on warm nights. Be careful of the curb on the driveway and know that it will take practice to back your car out of the right hand side of the garage. The study is the coldest room in the house and the living room is really only meant to be used at Christmas.<br />
<br />
Play catch in the park and hit grounders at the ball diamond. Teach your kids to ski at Nakiska. Watch a lot of sports with your kids and teach them the finer points of baseball and hockey and when they are older maybe they'll call just to talk about 'the game'. Let them sulk in their rooms when they are teenagers and when they are older maybe they'll call home just to say hi. Let them bring their friends home after school and have them stay for supper too. When they grow up they will want to keep coming home and their friends will too. Make sure there are fresh flowers awaiting them in their rooms.<br />
<br />
If you're really, really lucky your grandkids will get to make memories there someday. You'll watch them playing together in the house that their parents grew up in and realize that buying it was one of the best decisions you've ever made.<br />
<br />
That house may just be another move or a big mortgage to you right now, but I hope that someday it will be so much more. I hope that it will be your Home.<br />
<br />
It will always be mine.<br />
<br />
So if one day a strange woman shows up on your doorstep with tears she can't quite hide please don't call the cops. It's just me, wanting to say hi to my old friend. My <a href="http://arrangingpieces.blogspot.com/2013/01/its-been-over-13-years-since-i-last.html" target="_blank">Home</a>.Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-82421284521756946512014-02-27T15:47:00.003-08:002014-02-27T15:49:16.811-08:00expanding<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I wrote this last week but haven't posted it since all my energy has been spent either crying, screaming at Anna or trying not to. Don't misinterpret my parenting life as a perpetual state of bliss. I guess it's one of those complicated and paradoxical things about life: the hardest years are the best years.</i></div>
<br />
This baby is coming, and soon. This baby we have long sought after, longed for and impatiently prayed for is going to make its appearance. Reality is setting in. My annoyance with this pregnancy is giving way to excitement of holding a real live baby in my arms. Soon we will welcome a very real person, a very real human into our family. It's a wondrous gift that I can't quite wrap my mind around.<br />
<br />
But I'm scared. I'm not just scared of labour and delivery (which somehow seems even more daunting the second time around). I'm not just nervous about dealing with two kids - a screaming newborn on top of an emotionally manipulative and screaming three year old. I'm not just worried about how Anna will respond to the new addition. I'm scared of how it will change our family - this little world we have built together.<br />
<br />
The bond between the three of us is indescribably precious, and strong. We've had three years together, just me and Adam and Anna. We're in it together, doing our best, being a family and forging our path - just the three of us.<br />
<br />
She's our little girl, our big kid, our baby, our everything and in turn we are her entire world. We take care of her, and she takes care of us. We are intimately bonded, wrapped up in this life we share.<br />
<br />
There is something so precious about this uncomplicated time we have shared without competition, crazy schedules or many distractions. It won't be the same, ever again. We're adding a newborn and losing even more sleep. We will have two kids to juggle - different needs, different wants, different personalities, different people. And Anna is getting older and more scheduled. Our leisurely days will give way to carpools and homework and soccer games. But we want more kids, and Anna desperately needs a sibling. It will be good for all of us to broaden and grow. It can be crazy and frustrating and sometimes stagnant in this insulated world of ours.<br />
<br />
But it's familiar and wonderful and safe and oh so magical, this life we have built. It's luxurious and indulgent and I'm loathe to give it up. As excited as I am to relive the baby and toddler years, to grow our family, to enter a new stage, it's not without a sense of loss. We won't ever have these days and years back - the sweetest ones of my life.<br />
<br />
My grandma once told me that love doesn't divide, it multiplies, and I'm holding onto this promise with great anticipation. We are so blessed I simply can't imagine multiplying our joy.<br />
<br />
So I'm holding onto the last few days and weeks of our lives as is and cherishing them as the priceless gift they are. I'm relishing each moment and thanking God for the gift of these last years. The time where Dada and Mama and Anna made three.Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-7247330548599349342014-02-24T11:39:00.003-08:002014-02-24T11:39:38.381-08:00with glowing hearts - a repostI wrote this blog post four years ago after the Vancouver Olympics. I thought I would repost it following yesterday's big gold medal win for Canada - and our generally fantastic showing at the Sochi games.<br />
<br />
And I want to add this for those who wonder why Canadians get so fiercely proud during the winter Olympics: we are always that proud, we just take this chance to be loud.<br />
<br />
I spend most of the Olympics being lovingly harassed by my American friends, particularly the hockey fans. Suddenly, Canada gets attention - we are rivals, we are annoying, we are disliked, we are <i>noticed.</i> We love it.<br />
<br />
In my experience, Americans like to pretend that Canada doesn't exist, or at least doesn't matter. Hence all the jokes about being the 51st state or "America's hat." Nevermind that we are the USA's biggest trade partner, largest provider of oil, a member of the G8, a strong presence in the UN, NATO, NAFTA, the Commonwealth, were a crucial presence for the entirety of both world wars, the US's strongest and most loyal ally and share the world's largest unprotected border. We have one tenth the population of the US, yet have a fairly pristine and highly respected reputation internationally. We are peaceful, peaceable and peacekeepers. We are not a superpower. We aren't perfect, but we <i>are</i> great. We are a country that is deserving of tremendous respect, even when we don't receive it.<br />
<br />
As a nation we tend to be quiet and humble, not willing to engage in culture wars. We're not trying to be better than the US, we don't want to be the US. Please understand: we have nothing to prove. We're not your jealous little brother. We are Canada.<br />
<br />
Every once in a while we get the chance to shine in our own way on a world stage and we make sure to take advantage. And Americans are starting to take notice. Not even willing to let us have our hallowed sport, we get under your skin with our hockey gold. And frankly we love it.<br />
<br />
Not always loud, but so very, very proud.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
I'm a proud Canadian.<br />
<br />
8 days ago I watched Canada's men's hockey team win the gold medal against the US on home ice. I watched with my hands over my eyes, pacing the room, and developing ulcers, but I watched. I wasn't sure I was going to. We were on vacation in northern California that week and were heading to wine country that day. After the heartbreak I endured a week before (Canada lost to the US in the round robin) and the vivid memories of the stress I felt watching the same game 8 years before in Salt Lake (Canada won gold then also), I felt like it might be in the best interest of my mental health to avoid the game and to drink some wine. At least that was the plan. I woke up with a nervous stomach, and the nerves only escalated through our drive, my frantic search for radio coverage of the game and our eventual arrival at my aunt and uncle's hotel room in Sonoma during the first intermission. Not watch the game? Who was I kidding?<br />
<br />
I couldn't miss that game. As Neil put it, it was a life event. I'm sure you're rolling your eyes at the hyperbole, but I assure you I exaggerate not. It wasn't just a hockey game, and it wasn't just that our collective Canadian pride was on the line, it was that and more. It was the culmination of a two week celebration of my country, my home that I miss so much.<br />
<br />
After Canada's loss to the US in the round robin, I was inconsolable. No, it wasn't anger at the taunting text messages I received (I know they were all sent in love), and it wasn't just the loss. I was having a hard time putting my finger on the source when Adam (oh how I love him) did it for me. I hated that I wasn't in Canada to watch that game. I wanted to be in Vancouver still, surrounded by fans as fervent (or more so) than I. I was missing home, and it all came crashing down on me then.<br />
<br />
Our Olympic experience was amazing. We spent 6 days and nights total in Vancouver. We watched the Opening Ceremonies (which I LOVED) with some of my closest family and friends. We saw the fireworks outside Kara & Tyler's front door as we were watching the coverage on TV. We went to Robson Square, saw the torch, the Olympic rings, and the general pandemonium that was Vancouver. We went to a men's preliminary curling match - and were overwhelmed by the flags, the spirit, the curling savvy and the NOISE of the fans. We are the proud owners of the autographs of the gold medal winning men's curling team. We went to hockey games and cheered at the top of our lungs, even though we didn't care who won. We sensed the excitement and were part of it. The 'Olympic spirit' isn't just a cliche and it was palpable in Vancouver.<br />
<br />
Undoubtedly my highlight was the VIP room of Molson Canadian Hockey House. As the lucky recipients of unused VIP passes, Kara, Tyler, Carter, Adam & I spent the night enjoying free drinks, food, and one of the poshest lounges I have ever been to at one of the most coveted venues in Vancouver. The night before all of team Canada plus Gretzky were in the VIP lounge post win, and although they weren't expected that night, the thought alone was enough to make me permanently giddy. They didn't show up, but Lanny McDonald did (Calgary Flames Stanley cup winning captain in 89). Meeting him was... maybe the highlight of my life?<br />
<br />
Point is, we had the best time. We were able to see and do so many cool things. But the best part, the essence of it all was being in Canada, with Canadians, watching Canadian TV coverage and unashamedly reveling in all things Canadian.<br />
<br />
For me, the Olympics was two weeks of celebrating Canada and bursting with pride. We're back in the States now and will happily live here for the foreseeable future, at least the next few years. This is Adam's home, and it's mine for now - and you know what, I love this country too.<br />
<br />
But when Crosby scored the game winning goal and I stood singing "Oh Canada" with my aunt and uncle there was nothing but pure unadulterated joy (and yes plenty of pride) even from afar. Sure, it was just a hockey game, but it was so much more. It was a celebration for Canada, of Canada, in Canada. With glowing hearts, indeed.<br />
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Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735627462844813021.post-82380353844075587042014-01-03T11:34:00.002-08:002014-01-03T11:34:21.809-08:00three<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
She's officially three now, although it's felt like three for a while.<br />
<br />
You know, the three the books warn you about. The doctor, too. The three that means never listening, always talking back, not responding to discipline. The hardest year of (early childhood) parenting I've been told. That three.<br />
<br />
She's definitely three.<br />
<br />
But she's also the other three. The wonderful three. Where everything is magic to her. Everything is special. Everything a delight. Everything has meaning and everything matters. The stakes feel high at three. Three is utterly delightful. Three is rewarding. I am <i>loving</i> three.<br />
<br />
She's always been full of personality and character, and like her doctor observed after being in the same room with her for less than 10 minutes, she remains 'strong-willed' and 'determined'. She likes to get her way. She is sensitive and her emotions run a tad high. We have a <i>bit</i> of an issue with temper tantrums that we haven't quite figured how to manage.<br />
<br />
She has decided that she's shy, except for when she's not, which is most of the time. She is friendly, charming, and engaging other than when she's screaming no at people or taking off her coat or sunglasses because someone said they liked them. She has a complicated relationship with attention. But we've noticed that lately she has been warming up a lot more quickly to our friends when they come over. After a second of freaking out, she decides that they are HER friends and takes them hostage playing in her bedroom, never to be seen by us again. Lately she's been making friends fearlessly at the playground, the library, wherever she goes.<br />
<br />
She still wakes up talking and keeps talking till she's asleep again although for much of the day the talking becomes singing. She LOVES to sing, loves learning new songs, making up songs often with her trademark 'dum dum' at the end. She has recently started to identify instruments in songs we listen to ('that's a trumpet!' 'that's a piano!'). She sang in 'Swedish' for our church's Julfest concert last week and impressed many that she was actually singing the words. Not sure they were the correct words, but they words all right because she wanted to practice <i>all the time</i>. Given her mixed record in front of crowds we weren't sure if she would do it, and didn't want to push her since she was a year or two too young. But as the big kids go so does Anna, and so for the love of song and big kids she was game. And perform she did, much to this mama's delight. We'll watch her on her video monitor at night, rocking her baby to sleep and singing in 'Swedish.' It's pretty darn cute.<br />
<br />
We do this because it takes her, oh, well over an hour to fall asleep most nights. Sometimes she's still awake in her bed when we go to bed two hours later. Since day light savings hit she wakes at 7:30 on the dot and crawls into bed with us for a while. Obviously, we don't complain. When we get up we read books before breakfast and then we read some more books after nap and again before bed. And then probably some more books too. We encourage this, one for the reading itself and two for all the sitting still she does in this time. A miracle, really.<br />
<br />
She's at the age now where she does half the 'reading' herself. Remembering the stories sometimes after only hearing them once or twice, or just making up a story from the pictures. She could read all day, and the truth is that so could I. Our mornings snuggling and reading in front of the Christmas tree have fast become my favorite time of day.<br />
<br />
She also really loves to paint, draw and 'do crafts' which means to her cutting up a piece of paper with scissors - maybe her favorite thing in the world. She has literally cut one piece of paper for over an hour. It's a beautiful, beautiful thing.<br />
<br />
Another thing that will keep her otherwise super short attention is playing a puzzle or game, her new favorite being Sequence for Kids, or as she calls it for some completely unfathomable reason - 'credit cards'. Or, of course, watching TV. Her screen time is quite limited these days but she has a special fondness for Jake and the Neverland Pirates, Daniel Tiger and Dora. She asked for a pirate birthday party this year which was easily delivered, but the next day she told me she wanted Daniel Tiger instead. She got over her disappointment pretty quickly though when she decided that she will have a Daniel Tiger party when she turns five, and a princess party when she turns 4. Apparently 3 is the magic age where suddenly kids care a lot, a lot about their birthdays. She talked about it for months ahead of time, was giddy when it rolled around and still talks about it every day. Anything that she sees that she wants she asks for her birthday next year. I'm not sure she understands quite how far away November 29th is.<br />
<br />
Halloween was another favorite this year, with any shyness melting away completely as she would march up to a house and yell 'trick or treat!'. Candy works wonders with this girl. She still asks me a few times a week what I will dress up as for Halloween next year. She, of course, wants to be a princess because she is brave and smart and strong like the pirate princess in Jake, or maybe just because she wants to wear a pretty dress.<br />
<br />
Meal times remain interesting. She won't sit in a booster seat and therefore isn't in her chair for more than seconds at a time. We do our best to keep her there by playing 'what you see today?' which consists of us giving clues to something while the others guess. She is shockingly good at this game. But then again, she surprises us in every way, every day.<br />
<br />
We are all masters in negotiation at this point, trying to get her to eat 5 more bites, or come put her socks on. Adam is more likely to concede to keep the peace, while her Mama isn't prepared to be out maneuvered by a preschooler. I'm also not great at picking my battles, but this isn't about me.<br />
<br />
Point is, she insists on dressing herself now. Which often means wearing her dress up clothes out in public. I wouldn't let her be a princess the other day to do errands because she'd be way too cold, so she was going to be a lion until she changed her mind and just wanted to wear her pink polka dot leg warmers, purple zigzag boots, pants, pink striped skirt, pink and orange toque, pirate bandana and pirate hat. She said her theme was 'pirate princess'. The next day it was 'superhero ballerina' complete with cape and tutu. So. When I follow the advice to give her two options and let her choose, she asks why she can't wear X, and frankly I have no good answer. Thus sometimes we are a cowgirl at church, but most often just wearing a lot of bright pink. She has drawers full of cute clothes that don't get much wear. And Mama learns yet another lesson.<br />
<br />
She's perfectly healthy but still tall and skinny as can be. Her bone structure is tiny, her legs a mile long. She still wears infant size mittens and can fit in skirts for 3 - 6 month olds but wears size 4 in pants and shirts for the length.<br />
<br />
Her allergies are going strong so she's still on a vegan plus meat diet which sounds really healthy but in reality looks more like a lot of noodles, chicken nuggets, rice and beans, fruit, tons and tons of soy milk and as much candy and cookies as she can finagle. I would hang my head in shame but as her doctor says eating at all is ever so much healthier than <i>not</i> eating. And don't worry, she loves her vitamins - probably because they are basically gummy bears. Last week she decided she liked broccoli (for a day or two) and hell froze over.<br />
<br />
She's still playing soccer and loving it and has been in a class with mostly 4 year old boys for the last few months. She's really quite good when she's focused, but is clearly outrun by the older boys partly because she likes to stop and add some pirouettes along the way. We're working on her sports(wo)manship as she likes to be the one to score all the goals, but is not so interested in the physical jostling required to steal the ball back.<br />
<br />
She has a strange aversion to 'loud noises' and will cover her ears defiantly. She won't do the team cheer at the end of soccer without me for that reason and burst into tears when we all clapped after all the kids sang Away in a Manger at my MOPS group.<br />
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I used to say that she was extremely affectionate but not at all cuddly. I am thrilled to eat my words. She cuddles in the morning, after her nap, when we read books and get ready for bed. She's actually willing to cuddle any time at all if it means she can have her pacis and blanky. And yes, we're working on that.<br />
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And the potty training. That too. For a girl who has been early on pretty much everything, the potty training doesn't interest her much - some days. Part of this may be due to her lazy mother's hope that she will eventually just teach herself.<br />
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But back to being cuddly, she remains the sweetest and most affectionate human I have known. She is a lover, this one. There is nothing she cares more for than the happiness of those she loves. If I cry, she bawls. If I frown she needs to know why because she wants to fix it. She has a freakish memory and will hold onto the most random, apparently tragic moments for months. She says, 'sorry your water bottle broke, mama' at least once a week. It broke in August. I don't remember being upset about it, but she sure was, and is.<br />
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She loves babies almost as much as she loves big kids and is very excited about the baby in mama's tummy. She loves to kiss my bump and talk about 'her' baby all the time. Although she says she wants baby to be a 'gwirl' because she wants to dress her in pink, she has the makings to be a phenomenal big sister no matter who joins us in March. It's also pretty clear that it will do her some good to have a sibling in the house...<br />
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We're not quite sure how to teach her that the same rules don't apply to her as to us. She likes to tell me to take another bite, or sit down and she tries to speak to us the way we sometimes have to speak to her. She will ask me, 'do me a favour and pick (something) up' and we get a lot of, 'yes I can do x' and 'no way' and 'not at all' and 'no I don'ts' spoken under her breath or screamed in our faces. She also likes to stomp her feet and hit at things. But this is nothing new as the fits and temper tantrums have been around for at least a year and a half now.<br />
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But when she's good, she's the best.<br />
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I mean, the absolute best.<br />
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I can't get enough of her.<br />
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Being sick in bed so much over the last few months I have been treated to countless kisses and tuck ins. She will bring me her cherished blanky and pacis, pat my face, kiss me, rock me and sing and then will say, 'if you need anything just let me know Mama, and I'll get it for you.' She then counts as we do to close the door and says 'sweet dreams, I love you!' When I tuck her in at night she pulls me into a tight hug and has me sing while snuggling deep into her neck.<br />
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In those moments I know that I am the luckiest mama in the world.<br />
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I marvel daily at the incredible gift she is and can't fathom my luck at getting to be her mother. I get to be on the receiving end of all her hugs, kisses, smiles, songs, silly stories, and yes even her temper tantrums. I get to snuggle with her in bed, listen to her 'read', watch her imagination come to life and witness how she grows and learns every day. I get to be astonished by her ability, her intellect, her love, and her compassion.<br />
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Every day is a fight between being sad that she is growing older, that this is passing so quickly, that I won't have these moments forever and being incredibly, profoundly grateful that I get to experience this at all. That my daughter will sing Jesus Loves Me to her ailing great-grandmother then wipe the tears off my face, saying, 'it's OK, mama. I know you're sad because you're going to miss great-grandma, but I'll take care of you all night if you're sad. I'm not sad. I'm happy because she's still here now." I get to be the one to wipe the tears from her face when she's overcome with sorrow, or anger or some unknown emotion. I get to hear her make up silly songs, giggle a million times a day. I get to see the unbridled joy on her face when her dada comes home from work or she makes me laugh. I get her skinny little arms thrown around me in a huge hug and my face plastered with kisses after every single time we're apart, even if it's only an hour or two. I get to watch her become the person God made her to be, as similar and different and so very, very much more than I ever dared to dream.<br />
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At three she is both 'big kid' and baby. I still love the way she smells after a nap, and when she's sick or tired she's very much a baby who needs her mama. As I watch her independence and fearlessness grow I am very much grateful for this remaining vulnerability and neediness. She just turned three and she's never going back. All I can do is hold on tight, count my blessings and try to let her go.<br />
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Three is magic, and she is my joy.<br />
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I love you Anna Grace. More than you will ever, ever know.<br />
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<br />Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16135818979502891369noreply@blogger.com0