Thursday, November 19, 2009

The Girl Loves Books

The girl does love books...

and she also loves dogs...

Saturday, November 14, 2009



not so much a fan of tummy time...but...

the Bumbo gets much more favorable results!

Thursday, November 12, 2009

"Whatever is Good"

"Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you." (philippians 4:8-9)

When my Meggie girl is grown and stepping out on her own, I want to remember these things from her time as a wee babe: one morning, right after she began sleeping through the night, I went to rouse her from her crib and, as she saw me, she smiled, kicked her gazelle-feet, and held her arms up to meet mine. When she's relaxed and nursing she will curl her body around mine and twine one hand into my shirt or hair - these subtle movements echo my body's memory of her nestled under my heart. After she's eaten her full, she'll turn her head in my hands and gaze into my eyes. Now, after several weeks, I find recognition in those luminous depths of stargazer-blue. She always smiles her slow smile as if our souls whisper to each other, "I know you, you were the one I loved before I knew it was you, here, I am home with you." I recognize she's hungry by these tiny utterings that sound like the chirps of a new spring robin. Her body, when playing, is in constant motion. But, she's ever conscious of our presence; her eyes trace our positions around the room like miniscule planets in orbit. Singing soothes her and calms her cries; it always has. She recognizes tunes from inside the womb and when she was days old, her daddy began singing her to sleep with his guitar. These two have a musical communion that is an abundant, continual feast for my heart. Her face is a splendid blending of us and, yet, uniquely her own. I recognize myself and my love's expressions dancing across her features as I recognize sweeping leaves and snowflakes in a flurry - there's me, there's him, there's me, there's him all the way to their resting place on the ground. I find her, the look that is my Meggie girl, in the resting place. Today, she held the pages of a book that I was reading to her in her wondering hands.

My dear girl, I make this my promise to you: these are the memories I will cherish and speak to you as you grow and when you're grown and when you're stepping out on your own.