to lucy miller on her 3rd birthday. . .

My Darling,

The snow is heavy outside as I write this, just like the day I went into labor with you-the coldest day in decades.  It was so cold but you brought and continue to bring the greatest warmth to anyone who knows you.

I can't believe it has only been 3 years with you, I feel like you've been with me almost my whole life.  This year brought all kinds of beautiful growth for you.  You now have very strong opinions about what you wear.  You will only wear et-it-go dwessess (let it go dresses)...this means they must have a spin factor for you to even consider them.  You are known for your squeaky shoes and we all know when you are near.  This summer Sullivan started school and it's been just us girls till school lets out.  You go to preschool 5 mornings a week.  I thought it would be sad to see you go every morning but when you excitedly run (squeak squeak squeak) with your little backpack in to play with your fwends, I just can't stop smiling.

One of my favorite things you say is " I'm not yedy" (I'm not ready).  

You love your babies and are a devoted little mama.  You've always got a babe on the breast. Speaking of, we nearly made it to 3 with our sweet nursing relationship.  You still ask to nurse every day but when I say my muyk muyks are broken you happily go on your way.

You potty trained for a brief summer and then on our road trip out west we got lazy...so you're still in diapers.  You recently left your crib for a big girl bed and you are so so proud.

Your smile.  Lucy Miller, your smile is pure magic.  It's not even just your smile but the smile in your sparkly squinted eyes that fills my heart right up like a cup that overflows.  Anyone who knew me in high school/college can tell you how strong my desire to have an asian baby was. You are pretty darn close:-)  In fact, when we were in Banff, Canada, you were constantly swarmed with asian tourist who wanted a picture of you and a picture with you!  It was the funniest thing!  

You are kind and sweet and at the appropriate times you are a force.  I will in one 5 minute period see you twirling sweetly and then suddenly you're playing war with your brothers.  Speaking of, you love them and talk about them constantly.    

You delight me.  You delight me.  You delight me.  I can't say this enough.  Every part of you just delights my soul.  Your life is a gift that gives and gives and gives.  I can't wait to grow old watching you blossom into the beautiful force you are.  

Happy 3rd Birthday my girl.  I can't believe I get to be your Mama.

Our trip to the Pacific Northwest

It's been nearly a month since we have arrived home from our 2 week adventure to the Pacific Northwest and Banff, Canada with our three children (7,5,2).  I had originally planned to furiously edit these photos and write all about it immediately but it was too sacred.  I truly have needed to just sit and processes before having the words.  

I keep comparing this trip to labor and childbirth.  It is powerful and wonderful and sacred and yet it is something you do NOT want to do again or think about doing again immediately following.   Give yourself a few weeks and suddenly you'll remember so fondly something that was so hard and painful. 

I know you saw the pictures on Instagram.  The beautiful mountains and the rocky coasts, my children dressed in adorable mismatched clothes and boots.  I know it looked picturesque and maybe even sent a pang of jealousy into the pit of your stomach.  Even though I tried to keep it real with several posts of crying car rides, that did not even scratch the surface of how hard this trip was.  

As hard and painful as this trip was, it was equally needed and healing.  

Our children are very similar to feral animals.  They run and play in the open air and the second you put them inside they go crazy.  So more than 3,000 miles traveled via car was hard for everyone.   Having just received a concrete diagnosis for our oldest of Severe ADHD/ODD a few weeks before the trip, and trying out some medications and new dietary restrictions for him, it just really added to the painfulness of it all.  

For every moment of pain there was a tiny glance or hand hold or a pause and a drawing in.  

You see, ever since our precious first born was born and something was "off" with him, I feel like I've started separating from Noah.  Because when it gets hard...or stays hard all the time, it's just so much easier to go off on your own, lick your wounds and return to try again.  

The hard part, the hardest part is drawing in.  It's not pretty.  It's not idilic picnics on the beach and romantic gestures, it's standing firm, it's lifting one another when they are too weary to go on.  There was a lot of awkward and painful moments on this beauty filled trip.  Too many times to count I was just paralyzed with fear of how to move on, how to address one more hungry child who was tired, how to calm Barclay down after another fit, how to dig deep down and give grace to my husband.  We were stuck together for two weeks and we did it.  We grew and we healed a bit.  

I feel so unworthy to be the mama of this tribe.  I feel so ill equipped, so lacking in patience, so childlike myself.  But grace is daily extended to me and it is restoring me.  

I can see the beauty here, in this family of mine.  This gift of people that are my people.  Every one precious and unique and wonderfully made for a purpose.  

picking up the trash | some thoughts on voting this election

I can't help it, every time I'm out in nature, I pick up the trash.  A tiny candy wrapper here, a garbage bag left behind there.  I pick up the trash because I love the earth!  When I go to my river and see the piles of trash left behind by people who don't live here, I feel such ownership and even though I didn't leave it behind, I take the time to throw it away, because I want to come here for years and years to come.  

One day, I'll never forget, I was walking beside the ocean and bent down to pick up a small wrapper from the ground.  I put it in my pocket and thought nothing of it until someone who was passing by sneered at me and said " Do you really think you picking up that wrapper is going to make a difference?"

I was so stunned.  OF COURSE IT MAKES A DIFFERENCE!  Can't you see?!  There is one less wrapper on this beautiful beach.  Sure they'll be other wrappers and so I will keep picking them up.

I'm not politically minded.  I don't grasp or understand all the ins and outs of how things work in this inner circle, but I've tried to stretch myself to research and learn about the options I have to vote for.  

This year I'm voting for Gary Johnson (Libertarian Candidate) for president.  And just as when I picked up that small wrapper from the beach, I have been sneered at and told "Don't you know, your vote isn't going to make a difference." or even worse, "Don't know you that you are endangering our country by giving your vote to (fill in the blank)?!"  

Well, I refuse to make my vote based on fear.  I REFUSE!  I happen to believe that no matter what I vote or who wins, that we will be ok-ish.  

Yes.  Most likely Gary won't win the election by a landslide (thank you antiquated system and media monopoly), but maybe just maybe, enough people will step outside of what is comfortable and not be shamed or scared into their vote.  Every time I see a trusted, smart friend say they are voting for Gary Johnson, I feel just a little bit more like sticking it out.  Maybe we all just need to stop being bullied and stand up for ourselves and our wishes.  Maybe next election people will talk about how a third party candidate actually got pretty close and maybe next election more people will vote without fear.  

Because how will any progress ever be made?  How has any change or progress ever been made? It's been made by people who refuse to believe the lies that they don't matter.

Because I cannot, I will not be told that picking up a piece of trash doesn't matter and I will not be told that my vote doesn't matter.  Because believing that makes me apathetic and I loose a feeling of ownership and responsibility and I frankly don't really want to live in a world, in a country that makes me feel that way.

And so I will keep my head down and I will keep picking up the wrappers so that many years from now my children will be glad that I did.