Jonah's First Halloween. . . :)

feeble and breathless. . .

I am conflicted, plagued by an inner war of possibility and ambivalence. I struggle frantically beneath the weight of lies and apathy; they sit heavy on my shoulders, grounding the cause that silently cries out from the core of my personhood. I burn. I plan. I toil. I waste away, fear-bound and distracted. I ache to experience solidity of focus and determination, yet I’m prone to wander toward the enticement of pleasure, turning my gaze from the road of struggle which leads to the fulfillment of the passions that grip me. Stagnant, motionless waters of potential pool within as minutes, hours, days . . . months and years pass me by. When will I break free of all that binds and stifles the essence of my call? When will I fiercely arise in fortitude of purpose, fix my gaze and relentlessly pursue all that is required?

pirate ship pumpkin :)

We’ve had such a relaxing, magical day. . . After church we played Frisbee by the lake, skipped stones on the water, cuddled and chatted under a weeping willow tree. The cool, crisp air revived our senses. On the way home, we picked up a pumpkin to carve for Jonah. Allen's family never participated in traditional Halloween festivities, so it was his first experience with pumpkin carving. It brought back a flood of childhood memories for me and observing the novelty of it for him was so much fun! Cheers to love, family and Fall. . . a season that mystically invites us to revel in the wonders of creation and unleashes a flood of childlike bliss in the human soul!





Allen's scary pirate face. . . arrgh! :)

Jonah belly. . . 20 weeks

shades of hope. . .

The baby boy growing in my belly is changing me more rapidly than I ever expected. My waistline is steadily expanding, and my ever-evolving shape is coupled with an intense sensitivity that I cannot describe. Those who know me well are acquainted with the tenderness of my soul. I am easily moved. . . all things are sacred, but in recent days I’ve sensed that my heart is peaked to absorb the divine in all that is typical, mundane and ordinary. The tiniest things trigger tears, not often the sorrowful kind, but tears of joy and expectancy. . . Articulating what I’ve been experiencing is a bit frustrating as I feel my vocabulary is too limited to adequately deliver the stirring within. It’s as if all things are technicolor, riddled with vibrancy. . . shades of hope. . . The atmosphere seems light and playful, full of sparkle and bloom. . . Perhaps, the child stifled in my soul by years of adult masquerade is finding liberation in this preparatory phase of parenthood. Could it be that Jonah will usher me into realms of childlikeness I abandoned long ago and remind me of the wonder and marvel of our existence? Could it be that his sheer presence, even now (though veiled within me), holds revelatory power. . . power to increase my receptivity to the whisper of the divine in every moment? Fascination fills me. I expected to be revolutionized by motherhood, but I did not anticipate this. . . this stirring. . . this profound evolution of heart and soul. . .

It's a BoY!!! :)

Jonah Elliot, our BeAuTiFuL BABY BoY! :)



The cutest bottom in the world. . . :)


Jonah sucking his thumb. . . :)


Jonah worshiping. . . I love that little hand! :)


Jonah's ear. . . :)


Jonah's fingers. . . :)


Jonah's fist. . . :)



Jonah's feet. . . :)

baby belly. . . 18 weeks

Our baby's final nameless night. . . :)

riches in the wasteland. . .

Your weary eyes expose the piercing ache in your soul and the silent grappling beneath your skin. I see. I hear. . . though your struggle is too deep and obscure to articulate. His call reverberated within you and a tremor of hope surged through your being. You heeded his voice. You cried out in surrender and expectancy overtook your senses, yet in a moment and without warning the darkness of night was unleashed in your interior swallowing the light and paralyzing your pursuit. His voice continues to echo. You cannot escape it. You don’t want to escape it. You’ve been wide-eyed and expectant, but you can’t see. You can’t find him anymore. You ache to feel his breath on your neck. . . for the slightest reassurance that he is near and has not forgotten the whisper of yesterday. You crave his closeness, his activity. . . his revelatory wind.

My lover, my friend, I proclaim to you- peace lies in the heart of this darkness. Still your restless soul, settle into the silence of naked truth and breathe. Do not close your weary eyes in the midst of this perplexing night. . . The “will of God” surrounds you here, and soon, yes- very soon, his riches will surface in this wasteland. . .