smiles and some faith

this is the picture i have as my wallpaper on my computer. my youngest child, my daughter, is such a beautiful child. all my kids are beautiful...even the teenagers. :) she looks a lot like her brothers at this age. the way she has changed our lives...the way she has changed her brothers' lives...it's a miracle. what annie would call a brown paper bag miracle. nothing extravagant or flashy. not even monumental in a given moment. but when you stand back and look at the whole picture, it is amazing. her oldest brother, who held her and rocked her when she was a newborn and infant, is now running seventy-nine yard touchdowns on an eighty yard field (after a month or so of some very intense soul searching and heavy angst-ing as we can only really do as teens...that angst-ing that immobilizes us at a time when we are, truly, only responsible for the small, albeit overwhelming, responsibilities that center on us). her other brothers, so accustomed to being lead by the oldest, have built a net around her as they've figured out what to do with themselves with their oldest brother gone at school most of the day. our whole family has figured out how to function in such a different capacity in the last year...a school schedule not our own (yes, that typical school schedule us homeschoolers are so relieved to not be subjected to? that one...), a baby that no longer sleeps and eats and poops...she has such a strong will and now has the words to boss us around (albeit very charmingly), a dad who has to find his way as an independent ob/gyn...searching for the balance of time and responsibility in his new job...all of his ideals colliding with the reality of the institution he practices medicine in...the truth of his habits and his needs and where they match up and oh yes, my personal favorite, where they don't...a mom worn out by the demands of so many things changing...trying to support everyone but not doing a great job of it...confronting that familiar demon of the pride that says she should be able to do it herself and the exhaustion that says oh no, you can't...another teen who has grown to be tallest, although he is, in fact, the second born...and all of his responsibilities that have shifted as a result of the oldest being gone and his own life moving forward, the third born...my preteen (this year, anyway)...growing into his body that is now on the puberty train...the delight he's finding in more school work and his younger siblings and his friends, and my youngest son...always so pleasant and willing to go along with whatever the day brings...filling quiet moments with searching, delightful questions like "what was your favorite part of today, mom?" and "what were you good at when you were my age?" and "what's your favorite thing to cook?"...and i know he will ask me to cook my favorite thing to cook...it's who he is. each of these children is so changed by each other. like the buddhist's say about rocks polishing each other.

we are looking at buying a house. THE house, it could be. or not. it is exhausting to think about and consider and weigh and contemplate. it is a wonderful opportunity, and i am grateful. and it is a huge responsibility to consider, and i am sobered. it is the end of a long day, and i am worn the heck out. but this picture made me smile. on a night where i am missing my husband so much...he is at the hospital...he's been there waiting on a mama whose labor stalled...but right as they were getting ready to call for a c-section, her cervix started changing. so he climbed aboard the "let's wait and see what nature can do" train...and missed that seventy-nine yard touchdown that his oldest will probably be riding the high of for weeks...and will probably end up doing the c-section anyway because that mama's body is worn out and while he's going to sleep at the hospital to give her more time, he's not feeling hopeful that they're going to avoid the o.r. he doesn't mind. it's the job he signed up for. and he'll have enough congratulations and hugs to share once he's home and awake that the teenager probably won't even remember that his dad missed his biggest moment this season. but i will. and myhusband will. and a part of us will tear up. because while people make easy assumptions about doctors and ob/gyns...their haste and what motivates it...their short-sightedness and how it hurts others...their financial comfort and the apathy it cultivates...we're living the life. it may not be the life every ob/gyn lives...but it is, in fact, the authentic life of an ob/gyn and the family who loves him.

i have a good friend who is facing some changes in the life she and her family are living...changes that are wonderful and nerve-wrecking. she posted today that she was holding tight to her husband's hand and taking a leap of faith. it made me tear up to read that. i know exactly what she means. if i had to say what a leap of faith looked like, tonight...i'd say it looks a lot like the picture i just posted.

peace