Nearly three years ago when the hubby and I were shopping for our wedding rings I approached this task with a short list of criteria. I wanted a simple gold band free of adornment like the ones that live on my parents’ fingers. Unlike the engagement ring, there are no twinkling stones refracting the sunshine, just a latticework of fine scratches and dents across its once smooth surface.
This preference was partially a practical one. I’ve never been especially gentle on my hands. Anything from washing dishes to changing dirty diapers to gutting and skinning an elk is fair game in my book and I wanted a ring that I’d never have to take off. Even now, after just two years of marriage, it doesn’t shine quite like it did when it was new. It’s not pristine and perfect anymore but each defect tells a story of the beautiful, full life we’ve begun together. This scratched wedding band is my personal reminder of God’s goodness and all the tiny blessings He bestows on us every single day.
Throughout our childhood my mom seeded her German roots into our lives with little phrases or terms of endearment like this one. We were her little butterflies and I hope to pass on the tradition and the title to my own kids. While out for a sunny afternoon walk, my own little schmetterling and I enjoyed chasing the butterflies.
No matter how many nieces and nephews you have or how many babies you’ve met, there’s nothing quite like watching your own baby do things for the first time. Our daughter isn’t crawling yet but she has started rolling over. Also among her firsts, she’s smiling, giggling, recognizing mommy and daddy as well as babbling and drooling like crazy. She likes to grab anything within reach; hands, feet, her teething rosary, a crinkly baby book, and stuff it into her mouth. At this point it’s nearly impossible to distinguish intelligible words from her but on one occasion she very intentionally looked up at my husband and uttered two syllables that had us both giddy with excitement. “Dadaaah.”
Next time I turn around she’ll be on the move, exploring our home on all fours. Just the other day I was finally able to set her down for a solo nap for two full hours. This is all part of normal, healthy development which all children go through and yet I can’t help marveling at each and every tiny first as its own miracle.
I’m happy to report that thus far we are successfully raising an adventurous hobbit to loves to be outside treading new paths even more that we do. She is constantly crying for fresh air and sunshine and long walks under in the shire like landscapes of Northern Indiana. Thanks be to God.
As I’ve mentioned on this blog, I recently made the leap from a full time metallurgical engineer to a stay at home mom. This was a decision which I arrived at after nearly a year of contemplation and discernment, and I haven’t regretted it for a second. However, it was not a transition without sacrifice.
During my five years working as a quality engineer in the steel industry I tasted total independence for the first, and likely last, time in my life. For a while, it was everything I imagined it could be. It was a productive, engaging and uncomplicated way of living. I spent my days working in an interesting field and filled my evenings and weekends with opportunities to hone my social skills or take up new hobbies. I became what many people consider an interesting person. There was a wow factor to this young, personable female engineer. People were so impressed to learn of my chosen career path and I admit that I enjoyed their praise. My life was a whirlwind of activity and possibilities. I was completely free to do what I wanted when I wanted.
However, the shine of total independence began to tarnish after about six months. Truly not needing anything from anyone becomes a very lonely existence rather quickly. Although I filled my time outside of work by making new friends, I never grew exceptionally close with any of them and I started to miss the relationships which are born from necessity, the familial bonds with people in my life who should always be needed in some capacity.
I think that independence is something everyone should experience at some point and I feel immensely blessed to have had a sample of it myself. I am also thrilled that it’s over. Now, I get to lean on my husband while I pour my time and energy into the raising of our baby girl. I get the bliss of fully dedicating myself to motherhood while trusting and knowing that my husband will handle everything else. Motherhood is an occupation with little wow factor and no paycheck but there’s no other job I’d rather do.
The brilliant pinks and purples or spring and summer blooms are giving way to the burnt red and golden hues of autumn. The temperatures have begun to drop and with them the veggies ready for picking from our little garden. We finally nailed down a date for our annual apple picking adventure at a local orchard (a first for our baby girl) and we’ve had a quiet week of cozy rainy days. What a blessing to savor each season in its’ turn.
Over the years I’ve come across beautiful personal shrines to Christ and His Blessed Mother. Many are even complete with candles and kneelers, little nooks that have been transformed into places of family prayer. My mom created such a place in her home atop my parents’ old upright piano. At the time she did this I was still in high school and had yet to find my faith. However, I did have a passion for music and loved playing that very piano.
Sadly, the rebellious teenage voice in my mind, small and quiet though it was, looked on this shrine as a kind of trespass upon my own place of worship. Of course, I hadn’t given much thought to exactly who or what I was worshiping but playing the piano was one of those things I liked to do to unwind and converting it into a mini Catholic shrine felt like an overstep. I never shared this with my mom but a tiny part of me resented how the piano was suddenly strung with rosaries and depictions of Christ.
Thankfully, I have grown in my knowledge and faith since then. My teenage indignance has turned to spiritual envy and I now find myself imitating my mother. Nearly a decade later I have erected a very similar display in my own home. In our small house we have no piano or convenient nook but we have a bookshelf set in the middle of our family room. It is laden with our favorite stories including that of Christ on the cross.
Although we minimize our trips into Chicago as much as possible, it is always entertaining to spy the city floating over Lake Michigan on a clear day while hiking at the Indiana Dunes. Only faintly visible in the blue haze it stands like the lost city of Atlantis, making you question if it’s even there at all. God blessed us with many sunny days like this one throughout the summer.