Wild Antics

 We awoke to the steady dripping of rain on the roof overhead - a magical sound! I'm curled onto my desk chair in a thick blanket, but I'm keeping my windows wide open because the sound of the steady rain is absolutely mesmerizing. We haven't had rain for months and  I think my soul craves this wet, cold morning as much as my gardens do. :-) 

Across my desk on the windowsill is a picture of my hill from below, highlighted by the sun, a storm cloud looming behind it. My tree stands tall and obvious against the ominous cloud posturing behind it. I find the scene not only impressive, but inspiring. Pictures can sometimes capture the raw power in a moment. When watching sunsets, sunrises, storms blowing in, the picture before me can change in seconds. If I wish to capture the scene in a picture, I cannot hesitate. I'm finding so many things I do not want to capture in a picture, because they're simply too precious, profound, or fleeting. 

When in Colorado, we drove down the Last Dollar Rd, a rough gravel road outside of Telluride. I stopped in the woods to take a potty break. Just I was heading back to the car, movement caught my eye. I knelt in the Aspens and watched a spotted fawn with the zoomies in the nearby meadow, racing back and forth through the yellow wildflowers. It was sheer joy! I've heard others say that wild animals sometimes get the zoomies, but I've never witnessed it myself. I will forever treasure those 10 minutes as a private witness to the delighted antics of a wild baby. 

I know that I cannot capture every captivating moment in my life and that those will fade in time. I do mentally mark moments throughout each day which I find remarkable and they are my treasure store to hold in that day, even if most are forgotten in the days and years to follow. Today...  

Madigan's passionate and ultimately forgiving response to Lochlan breaking apart another Lego creation that Madigan tirelessly put together last night. 
Kelton wrapped around his puppy in a full body, nearly smothering embrace.
The white thunderclouds building against the bright blue sky.
Kelton building a rifle out of spare wood parts lying around the property.
Lochlan grating up our garden zucchini in the food processor - he loves to be included and feel useful. Sadie, Devany and Wynn nickering at me in succession every time I walk out the front door.
Aberdeen following me everywhere as long as I'm in motion (which is almost constantly) and curled up at my feet if I'm sitting.
Trampoline time - sometimes I hang from the net above our trampoline and do sit ups; inspire goals! 
Our garden feeding us for each meal today and many days this week. 
Declan being a gourmet chef with his "secret ingredient".
The honey bees pollinating the garden veggies.   
Madigan finishing up his handmade chicken coop.
The berry patch in the back yard, replacing the flood scar with green abundance and the promise of raspberries, blackberries, blueberries and some wild berries.
The endless brother banter about planes and other machines of old and new. I've got a steep learning curve.
Cheesecake made with raw honey instead of sugar. 

I don't know what tomorrow holds, but I am captivated by today. 

They all stared...

 I walked through Safeway with Bitty Boo in her Service Dog harness pulling Lochlan down each aisle. He was growling loudly, laughing hysterically and yelling out the names of our dogs and the horses they (the dogs) were supposed to ride when we got home. People stared. A. Lot. Of. People. Stared. I felt like I was underneath a spotlight on a concert platform at a concert I never planned to attend. 

Having Bitty Boo walking calmly next to me was a balm to my tension. She takes it all in stride, doesn't let the boy stray. (I recently got her certified with the ADA because Aberdeen does not wish to be a service dog anymore; she was showing tremendous anxiety about wearing the harness and seemed stressed when on duty. So, now she's just my happy heart dog living the dream alongside me. :-) People can see that I'm struggling through the store, but most just awkwardly stare. About half way through the store, one kind woman smiled at us and engaged Lochlan in conversation, asking what his dog's name was, what sparkling water he wanted, etc. Then, she looked at me and said, "Good job Mama. He's beautiful and wonderful." I held back the tears... mostly. This week, post-seizure, I've felt almost constantly on alert, I've felt fragile, I have been reminded that I am in control of nothing. That "Good job Mama" carried me through that day.

I keep thinking this will get easier, that someday I'll be used to it. I've been set upon a stage without a skill set to perform. I don't have a clue what I'm doing. Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe. A simple trip to the grocery store feels like a marathon. I try... I pretend I know what I'm doing... but if you look closely you'll see that this is not my strength. This performance on this stage is one that I do not know, I have never learned and my natural talent is absent. Yet... the spotlight is mine and I must adapt. 

This past weekend, I took a couple days to go to the Colorado mountains with Declan. I wanted to take one long hike. I wanted to step outside the spotlight for a minute. And I did. It was a long, hard hike with over 2500 ft. elevation gain, but I felt restored in that place. I wrestled, internally, as I hiked. I felt the presence of the Creator in the overwhelming beauty of His Creation. I was exhausted as I descended back into life as I know it, but I had been able to set aside a lot of what I carry and I felt renewed strength and determination. 

I wish my own weaknesses weren't so appallingly apparent to me, but in my weakness... 

I climbed another mountain

Gosh this darn life can be so ruthless to us. I went to my hill in the dawn hours of Friday morning with a head full of thoughts I needed to process. I hiked up much faster than usual, forcing my body to pay the penalty for the frustrations that were mounting in my head. Upon reaching the top, I sank next to my tree and laid it all at the feet of God. Ah, the brokenness of this world, the things we cannot change, the pain we must bear and be witness to... none of us in untouched by it. This past week has been relentless in its challenges. 

I find solace. Maybe it is just the sheer exertion of getting myself up that hill, but I don't think so. Touching my tree brings comfort. Looking at the mountains beyond fills me with wonder and hope time and again. And the quiet... my heart finds rest in that place. In the silence I listen and hear and know that I am not alone. 

Lochlan had his second seizure on Thursday evening. It was a short seizure and he didn't have any subsequent seizures and I am grateful for that. He vomited for the next 8 hours which seems to be his seizure pattern. Kris has been in Boston for the week, so the boys helped me get through the night watch. I had 3 hours of sleep, but still felt surprisingly rested. It is alarming because there is no obvious catalyst to the two seizures he's had. He was calm and had played outside most of the day. I do think he was somewhat dehydrated so I'm sure that didn't help him. We haven't been taking him hiking as much because it has been so dry and hot during the daytime; the hiking seems to regulate his hormones and give him the ability to navigate his days without as many naughty incident(s). So, we are getting creative and re-incorporating hikes for him into our daily routines again. We're also coming up with many ways to keep him well hydrated. 

Kris returned from Boston so I went ahead and left for a 3 day trip to the Colorado mountains. Declan and I had planned this trip several weeks ago and though it seemed somewhat reckless to do so, I decided to follow through with our adventure. Being in the quiet of these mountains, setting aside the daily responsibilities, laying down my juggling balls for a minute is already giving me renewed strength and a rejuvenated perspective. 

I am so thankful for each of my boys. Madigan works tirelessly, helping each member of his family in unique ways; he is faithful and hard working and I learn from him constantly. Declan brings humor to our lives and comfort to each of us; he is wise and thoughtful and I am in awe of him. Lochlan is resilient; I cannot believe how much strength flows through him in spite of all the world throws at him almost constantly. I am so thankful for him and who(m) he is becoming. Kelton is so full of love and kindness; he is stronger than he realizes and everyday I see him grow in wisdom and stature. He brings light into a dark world. 

 Life hurts, it's true. I hope that in and through the pain we remember that we are not at the center, but simply (and incredibly importantly) a part of the whole tapestry. I am a thread in a vibrant and complicated tapestry of life. I hope that what I learn in this race I am running can bring strength to those around me. 

There were 38 sharks

 "There were 38 sharks, 28 dolphins. How many didn't?" (the answer is 18)

The constant stream of puns and clever plays on words are a part of every day life in this household. Declan is insufferably clever and he spurs his brothers into an almost constant banter. Even the most serious conversations are potential. 

These boys are each turning into men before my eyes. THE MOST kind, lovable, intelligent, and yes, witty men I know. They each approach life in their own stride - one at a full gallop, one at a mellow trot, one cautiously and one mostly somersaulting his way into it. They may be at different speeds and moving to their own unique tunes, but they are side by side. This little band of brothers love one another with the same fierce intensity that sometimes erupts in other less desirable areas. There are windows where the winds of irritation, grumbling and general annoyance blow in stronger. But they always land in the same place and carry on hand in hand. I have reminded them since they were tiny tikes that the gift(s) they have in one another is one of the greatest gifts they will ever have and it will be for a lifetime if they choose to value it, care for it, nurture it and build into it all of their days. 

Life alongside Lochlan is akin to life on the open sea. The waves can be extreme and emotionally/mentally dangerous. The sea is filled with 1 million (well, probably many billions) of unknowns both great and terrifying. We are in a tiny raft doing our best. But for the grace of God! The brothers never seem to fear, though they do sometimes grow weary. I find myself much more easily overwhelmed and discouraged by the larger waves than any of them are. They consistently and constantly come alongside Lochlan, building him up and encouraging him forward. They hold his feet to the fire when the devil inside him shows it's naughty face, but are ever forward marching, carrying him in their arms. He knows he's loved, but more importantly he knows he's part of this boy band, irrevocably and unequivocally. 

 As I sit here writing in the studio of my tiny house, I watch three hummingbirds fluttering about, mustering up the courage to approach a red Gerber daisy which sits next to the front door of our little house. Summer  happenings are amazing to me; hummingbirds, butterflies, wildflowers, blossoming gardens, baby deer losing their spots, hills of green (in Arizona it's probably not grass, but the start of wild yellow flower plants), brooding monsoon days, our delightful herd of 4 horses running around the field playing games together... 

In all this which has been created, I see and am in awe. I took a walk in the near darkness a few nights ago. I could see the silhouette of the Peaks against the almost black sky dotted with stars just starting to be visible. There was the outline of my tree, but it faded as darkness descended. I was reminded that the mountain remains, even in the darkness, even when I cannot see it through the darkness. Morning will come. That is a lesson for me.