Friday, January 14, 2011

tell me.

Photo credit: Brendan McKenna

It started as a beautiful sleep interrupted by the jolting buzzzz of my iPhone alarm going off in the morning.

Although both the iPhone and iPad have changed my life with their sexy shininess and ease of use, and in this ease of use Apple has created uber-expensive yet entertaining toys for our children, and have made light the tasks of pumping, rockingababytosleepforthreehours, or the inexplicable insomnia that accompanies the nights my babies finally DO sleep through the night. Yes, I even used my iPhone while in labor. No drugs, no epidural, just iPhone.

Even with all they have brought to my life (but yes, of course, people lived for thousands of years without iPhone and did just fine, I know) ...these electronics have taken from me, too.

And no, they haven't just taken from me in 99 cent apps that add up - and no, they haven't taken from me just in time consumption (Zombie farm? Really? Yes. Words with Friends? Yes. But seriously, have you seen the CraigsEZPro app for the iPad? Get it - and be prepared to be blown away.) But again, I digress -
Jacob showing Opa around the iPad

What I'm talking about being taken from me by their sexy shininess and ease of use is this:

The good old-fashioned, fingers on home row, pensive expression; hands stretching, waiting, yearning, chomping at the bit to hear ready-set-go and be set loose like a racehorse to fill, douse, soak and saturate the blank slate in front of you - the pouring of heart and soul onto page.

As a young girl, I used to type notes to myself and to my dear friend Karen, and she did for me - clacking and plucking away messages of comedy, melodrama, encouragement or teenage angst to one another on archaic typewriters at school in typing class. Each of us had a typewriter at home, too - hers a sleek electric that, when one typed excessively fast, you could build up an entire sentence waiting to be written while the typewriter was scrolling to the next line...and the metal keys would clickety-clack against the ribbon to leave their letter impressions in an amazingly satisfying way. I don't know that I even have words to describe the joy I felt with each line, trumpeting out in clicks too fast for human fingers. Hers also had the fancy 'white-out' option - a typo could be corrected using the exact letter(s) that created it. I adored her typewriter. It was one of the coolest things I had ever seen.

I also adored my typewriter. Mine was old. A big, vintage, black, heavy, beastly but beautiful contraption that was stored in it's big, heavy, beastly box beneath my bed.
Photo credit:

To this day I cannot recall where it came from - but my spirit sang when my fingertips danced on those keys. Yes, sometimes they would get caught on each other if I was trying to outdo my typing-speed records - and yes, my fingers also got all inky rearranging and fixing, poking and prodding into its belly in attempts to suck more ink from the reel to reel of ancient ribbon. I wish I still had that typewriter. Many nights I hunkered over its frame, wrapped in a blanket, cross-legged on the floor in the dark so as to not wake my sleeping family. Yes, I still wish I had that typewriter.

Years later my love and yearning, familiarity and affinity for the pouring of soul onto page would make itself known in university. Through paper-writing, pleas to powers-that-be to help in places of un-awareness, and in messages to individuals gifted and talented beyond measure - I intricately wove words together in love, detailing how enriched my spirit was to have people in my heart that God had placed in my path.
My sister Sarah, Meaghan, Stephanie, Karen, Jess, Zara, Kim, Mel, Katrina - you all hold such a special place in my heart

Nowadays, I am doing my darndest to resurrect my ability to pour my spirit onto the page...but finding it takes so much more work while playing the starring role in my life of the foggy-minded rarely showered never-gets-to-finish-a-full-meal lady during these days of two small boys with horrendously congested chests and wet-sounding coughs, fevers, drippy noses and red-rimmed eyes and sinus-pressure inducing tears running down soft chubby cheeks equating to nosleepformamanosleepformamanosleepformama... I, as the bleary-eyed, pajama and hoodie clad mama, had to muster every ounce of strength I had to drag myself out of our warm and dark bedroom, where, finally deep into their slumber, slow and heavy breaths from my two littlest along with daddy where the only sounds heard above the whirrrrrr of the fan.
As I tiptoed down the hallway I could hear Gramma in the kitchen downstairs while Isaac was regaling Opa with some nonsensical dream-woven tale and jokes and the humor in fart sounds. Yes. Fart sounds.

Amos does this thing where he looks up at whoever is holding him - seriously, it melts your heart

Egan was still fast asleep, but awoke with a cheerful smile and a willingness to get 'er done, baby. Gramma had already made coffee and packed the children's school lunches, so life has been just a wee bit o' bliss in the morn.

My coffee cup in hand, I breathed deeply and felt so thankful in our eclectically-blended to the nth degree family, and this visit from Opa Rick and Gramma Colleen. What a blessing it was to simply sit, drink steaming, creamy sweetened vanilla coffee from a seemingly bottomless pot kept that way by Gramma Colleen.

Aunty Mikaela (or Kia, as little ones lovingly call her) scoops babes up in arms and snuggles and oohs and aahs with the passion and intensity all her own, and it always does such good things for a mama's heart.

To feel my cheeks hurt from smiling so much while I watch someone else have their heart transformed as they take delight in any or all of my children is always a grand thing. Conversations grew from how and where God is calling our hearts,

and blooming where you're planted,

to a simple what to do today.

It's been a beautiful visit.

One last thing. 

My hero, the ever-inspirational fellow blogger and facebook friend of mine, Kelle Hampton, is about to celebrate her gorgeous little Nella's 1st birthday. 
She made this video to bring awareness and acceptance of people with Down Syndrome. Watch for our Famous Amos at 5:23! 

If you like my blog, please follow it! I love love love your comments, too. And Kelle's sweet fundraiser for her sweet Nella? Let's do this in Canada, too! 

This is one thing I am going to do with my one wild and precious life. 

Thank you for the inspiration, Kelle, Nella, and my little wee precious Amos.

I love these glasses.

Good night.

1 comment:

  1. I love those glasses too! :)
    Thanks for your thoughts...they made me laugh and sigh and remember... you are an inspiration dear friend <3


make no mistake, I am smitten with your words. please say hello, or pour something out - you will make my heart happy.

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