if we’re not connected on facebook or twitter, then you may have missed the big news. baby munsey is finally here! aveline alenka made her debut on wednesday, january 19th at 2:13am, weighing 6 pounds, 12 ounces, and measuring 20 inches long. i can’t stop thinking about what one of the nurses said when she looked down at aveline —
well, hello, little one! and what have you come to teach us?
it’s cloudy this morning. a touch of grey fog, quiet and calm. the dampness clings to the long slender shoots of grass and wraps around the tired oak fingers. the earth seems to sigh, and the clouds heavily roll along, lumbering, as if even they are too tired to take another celestial step. the occasional hum of a passing vehicle sounds far away and distant, the sound too weary to cut through the morning grey. inside, the dog rests his furry head between his paws, his eyes half open and lifted, watching me as a he fights a losing battle to stay awake.
me? in keepin’ with the situation, i try to eat my cereal with a fork. i feel clumsy, sleepy, already ready for a nap.
i wonder how much longer it will be before baby girl makes her debut. today we’re just three days away from 40 weeks.
it’s been an odd year. i think back to last december, when we nearly had to move out of the house into which we’d only just moved. that was stressful. but we’re still here, wild with the hope.
and so much has happened since then.
praying every single day for a full-time job for my husband. quitting my own job just a couple of weeks before finding out i was expecting. it has been a wild ride. i’d like to say that i’ve learned a lot, but really, it’s more accurate to say, i have so much yet to learn.
like learning to trust. learning to know that God will take care of me tomorrow, just as he’s taken care of me today. learning what it means to pray for “our daily bread.” not our weekly bread, or our bread for the entire upcoming year; but rather, our daily bread.
that takes a lot more faith. wouldn’t it be nice to see it all stacked up, in neat little piles of 30 and 31, all marked out by month? but it’s not like that. it’s manna in the morning, and it melts away with the sun. and yet He promises the sun will rise again tomorrow. arise, shine, for your light has come.(isaiah 60:1)Β the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings. (malachi 4:2) and with that healing, rising, sun, comes another layer of sweet, sweet manna.
if only i could learn that his mercies are new every morning. if only i could learn that his mercies never fail. if only i could learn that the sun will always rise. if only i could learn that he always hears our prayer for daily bread, and He does not give a scorpion or a snake. if only i could learn this, it might save me some tears during the darkness of night.
…we put up the christmas tree.
my plate on Thanksgiving. all homemade, all gluten-free, corn-free, and dairy-free.
fresh flowers on grandma’s kitchen table
just a little preview of an upcoming project… (remember the pendant inspiration i blogged about last month?)
now back to the laundry and the dishes. (why do these two things multiply so quickly? and it’s only the dirty piles that grow. the clean piles never, ever do.)Β but, it’s ok. the dog is snoozing, my husband is working on an art test, and the music of josh rouse fills the house. a rather peaceful november night.
I know somewhere there is a party going down.
Interesting people; conversation to be found.
I’ve lived in cities where there is no solitude
Made some friends there that I hope I’ll never lose.
But, for now, I want to stay in this quiet town. -Josh Rouse
i needed chocolate chip cookies today.
we didn’t have any chips, but i did have a stack of 100% dark chocolate bars in the cupboard. (don’t judge. when it comes to sweets, i am allergic to pretty much everything except the raw-vegan fruit-nut bars, so i get 100% cacao dark chocolate bars for gifts. for every holiday. from everyone.)Β i reached to the bottom of the stack, counting backwards from easter…valentine’s day, birthday, christmas. yes, christmas.Β that would be the oldest one.
i held the chocolate bar hard, pressing my fingers down through the foil, letting my finger tips feel the outline of the words ghirardelli on every square, letting my fingers trace the outline of the ridges between each rectangle of bitterness.
then i reached for the rolling pin.
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