It's the one that defines my entire being

This is my new house.

It's official! We will soon be the owners of this beautiful four bedroom, two bathroom house on 13 acres of land. My Aunt Kate lived in this house with her three children and it was her sanctuary for a long while. It was where I baked chocolate cream pies and made soap and wrapped Christmas presents for hours on end. This was her home and now it has been passed on to us by the grace and perfect timing of God (and some serious help from my incredible grandparents and parents).

And what's even better than that? It's on my grandparents ranch. This ranch? Well it's the one that I grew up on. It's the one that defines my entire being. My parents built there house on one corner of the property when I was four years old. It's the ranch where my cousin swore there was a mountain lion chasing us through the woods (I believed him and so did the rest of the community). It's the ranch where I learned how to ride horses. It's the ranch with a little general store at the bottom of the driveway. It's the ranch where I spent fourteen summers. It's the ranch where my grandma made me french toast on Saturday mornings and where my grandpa taught me how to rope and saddle a horse.

It's the ranch where I learned that family comes first and that living far away from town keeps you out of trouble. It's the ranch that when you tell people is past Ruedi, they swear up and down it's impossible for any normal human being to live there. It's the ranch where I spent fourteen Christmases in a row, was pulled behind a four wheeler on a sled without a helmet, cried, laughed, whispered, hugged, and kissed. It's the ranch where my husband and I spent 6 months living in a tiny bunkhouse infested with bugs. It's the ranch where we got married, surrounded by an army of family and friends. This is the ranch that is my home and now has our house on it.

Zen, or the lack thereof

So over at San Diego Momma, Deb does a writing prompt every Tuesday. This week the subject was: Zen. This was the prompt:

When is the last time you felt completely at peace? That all was right with the world?

I started thinking about this and the first thing I thought of was pregnancy. I tried quickly to come up with something else and pretend that that couldn't be the last time I felt completely at peace. Pretending is not my strong suit. Honesty is. I tell it like it is. I know that it seems like it consumes my life, and maybe it does sometimes, but really, that was the last time I felt completely at peace. January 9th 2010. My first pregnancy. The first day I knew for sure that I was really pregnant. It's funny because it was just over a year ago, and I can feel that feeling as if it was yesterday. I can feel the way I felt the exact moment I found out. It was like when the little stick said "yes+", my whole world had meaning. Finally, I had found my calling. There weren't any worries about miscarriage, or finances, or "is this right?". I just knew.

I had no idea of the heartbreak that laid before me. No idea that in a few short weeks my dreams would be shattered. I felt whole. I could feel that little soul in my being. I swore that I could feel that soul become part of me. Sometimes, even now, I get glimpses of that wholeness. I can feel the way I felt. I can go back to that zen place and not be afraid. Do you know what it feels like when you can feel in your toes that you are finally at a place in your life where things are just right? Where nothing else matters except that. one. moment. That was my place. My zen place.

I knew that if I wrote that that was my last zen moment, someone, somewhere, would roll their eyes. Is that all she thinks about? Maybe she should just relax. No one really understands the discontent of being in this in between phase ... between miscarriages and the next pregnancy. Unless of course they have been through it themselves. It's a limbo that I wouldn't wish upon anyone. I have experienced the first moments of pregnancy, experienced the yearning to hold my baby in my arms, and experienced the deficiency, the incomplete, the unfinishedness, (not a word, I know). I'm filling the void left behind. Filling it with God. Filling it with love for my husband. Filling it with things to fill my time. But nothing fits. quite. right. And nothing will until I hold my baby in my arms. That will be my next zen moment.

‎"The English language lacks the words 'to mourn an absence.'...But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent, ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel... of a tiny hand that is never held?"

~ Laura Bush

My New Sanctuary

This is where I'm going to spend my summer.

Can you guess where it is?

2010 in Retrospect

Ten Lessons from 2010

(Thanks Sulfa for the idea!)

10. If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.

9. Waiting for something I desperately want is much harder than I could have ever imagined.

8. Life is a journey. This means that I need to let someone else drive and enjoy being along for the ride. The destination is always better if I let God drive.

7. When your puppy eats straight peanut oil from deep frying the Thanksgiving Day turkey, she will be very very sick.

6. Working with high schoolers is my calling, and some day I will make it my job.

5. Lake Powell is one of my favorite places on earth.

4. Sleeping is still one of my favorite past times.

3. Being married is both awesome and very hard.

2. God takes away and God provides, but both are just part of our journey.

1. My faith, my family, and my husband are my rocks. This doesn't change even in the face of heartbreak and disappointment.