Where Have I Been?

Pretty much at home...haha!  But, not a lot of blogging going on these days.  This is one reason:

Awe...I can't believe Jacob will be 5 months old in a few days.  He's growing so fast. He's so adorably cuddly.  And kissable!

I haven't been too crafty lately.  My brother, neice and nephew were here for a few days in early June.  I love being an Aunt!!  Then I think the rest of June can be summed up in the usual daily things moms do; appointments, laundry, cooking, cleaning, nursing, diaper changing, errands, etc.  Jacob still isn't sleeping through the night and after this long, it's a bit draining.  So, though I have a to do list about 10 pages long, I haven't tackled much of this month at all.  I've been trying to catch up on some rest and now feel like I need to get back to my list.  Decluttering tops it and then I want to get back to sewing.

But, here are some crafty things I did from last month and haven't shared yet.  This first photo was a little gift I made for a friend. It's a Keyka Lou pattern.

Here are the photos of the bag I made for my bag swap partner, Flickr name Blue Bellbird.  She lives in London and recently received the bag, so now I can post.  I haven't received my bag yet, but will share pics when it arrives.  I have more to blog about, but will leave off with these pics.  My Jacob will be waking from his nap soon.  :-)

Another Lily Beth bag from artsy-crafty babe.

I added a zippered pocket.  My partner loves birds and specified that she wanted a "funky" liner.  I think this fabric fulfilled both.

Another interior pocket.

I included a Keyka Lou pouch with the bag. 

A Bed Meant For Two

She lies alone in a bed meant for two.  Maybe the phone will ring.  She doesn’t mind missing sleep to hear his voice, but staring into the dark and thinking about him, again, exhausts her.  She hears a noise and for a moment, even her thoughts freeze.  She attempts to focus her eyes and thinks the military should issue night vision goggles to the wives left at home.  After a few moments of scanning for an intruder, she feels quite silly.  But, she still sings the verse “God hath not given us the spirit of fear…” as she gets up to check on their children.

She hopes their peaceful sleep is evidence that she is keeping their lives as carefree as possible while dad is away.  However, she finds her oldest son awake as well.  She kisses him and kneels by his bed, asking if he is okay.  He replies that he just can’t sleep and she knows he is bearing some of her burden.  Earlier in the day, after unclogging a toilet and fixing a broken outdoor pipe spewing water everywhere, she went to get a drink from the refrigerator’s water dispenser.  Pressing her glass against the lever, she simply heard a click and nothing came out.  Seriously? She fought back tears and did not succumb to the urge to throw the glass across the room only because she knew it’d be another mess to clean up.  When she turned around, she realized her son had been watching and wondered how many of the thoughts about how tired she was, how she didn’t need this, and how she hoped he didn’t call right now because she’d give him ear-full, came out of her mouth.  She forced a smile, got her water out of the sink, and told him, “The fridge may be broken, but we do still have water.  No big deal!”  He gave her a hug and she kissed the top of his head, while rubbing his back.  He’s a lovely boy!

Now, she asks if he remembers their nightly animal kisses routine from his toddler years.  He smiles, revealing a tiny dimpled scar from a dog bite several years ago and says his favorite was the alligator.  They give alligator kisses just for laughs and he tells her about the Lego fort he built that day.  After kissing and tucking him in again for the night, she leaves his room with a heavy heart and checks all the doors.  They are still locked.  She crawls back in bed with thoughts of doing better tomorrow and as the phone remains silent, she cries herself to sleep in a bed meant for two.

Alive

She wrote thank you in the sand and as she walked to the water’s edge, she wondered if he were left or right-handed.  Such a detail was not significant to the adulteress or her accusers; only the message he wrote.  Facing the ocean and being unsteadied when the water washed over her feet and the sand underneath gave way, she felt small.  Yet, she knew he could see her and the message she left for him.  In this moment, she was unrestrained; completely free to worship without the confines of white walls, dingy pink carpeting, habitual assigned seating, headache-inducing florescent lights, and beautiful words mundanely sung by people analyzing who is not in attendance this morning and imagining what they would buy if they had a dollar for every time the pastor wore that tie the church gave him as a thank you gift for his five year anniversary.  Perhaps this latter thought only crossed her mind. 

She closed her eyes as the condemnation to never miss a church service echoed in her mind.  She remembered the pound on the pulpit that brought her out of a daydream and the preacher’s words thundering, “Ever notice how bars don’t have windows? It’s because men love darkness rather than light because their deeds are evil!”  Amidst the “Amen’s,” the “That’s right, Preacher,” and the self-righteous silently thanking God they are not like the drunks hung over in their beds this morning, she looked around and noticed for the first time that the church had no windows. A plant could not even grow in this room, thus someone compensated with plastic trees, giving an impression of life.  Suddenly, she felt as dead and artificial as the 40% off Michael’s flowers adorning the communion table and wondered what third world country they were produced in.  She thought about her children trapped in a room looking at flashcards depicting cartoony images of animals entering Noah’s Ark. She pondered how many children back there were learning about God from Larry the Cucumber and Bob the Tomato.  Gimmicks for God.  All is vanity.

She opened her eyes and admired the great cathedral of God’s creation and actually felt moved to worship; moved to sing “How Great Thou Art” with a chorus of sea gulls behind her.  She longed to take her children on a hike, showing them the heavens that declare his glory, introducing them to his handiwork, observing the ant, and admiring the sparrows and lilies. She envisioned the brethren assembling under the sheltering arms of a white oak, where their singing would not be stunted by a popcorn ceiling gathering rings of dust around the fans.  She thought about mothers sitting nearby, nursing and tending their babies instead of dropping them off in a nursery with Lysol sprayed toys and not enough loving women available to hold them all. 

She knew she was not the only one wanting to bury the “will worship” described in Colossians 2.  However, this morning she met God alone on the beach, with the hem of her tiered, knit dress soaking up the salt water.  She sang.  She praised.  She whispered thank you and the breeze carried it to the God who saved her soul.  He is alive and so is she.

I linked up today at imperfect prose.