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First, I’d like to thank you all for your concerned comments and prayers.  Shortly after I posted the last post, Mary Aplin took an astonishing turn FOR THE BETTER!  I know it was prayer…I just know it, and I THANK YOU!  We recently got the cultures back and found that she had Salmonella.  I haven’t the faintest clue where she got it.  Since we’ve still been living with our parents, I haven’t done a whole lot of cooking with raw chicken (we usually just mooch :))…and I can’t think of anything she would have eaten that the rest of us wouldn’t have eaten as well.  I don’t know, but after eight days of (bloody, yup, I know it’s gross) diarrhea, all I care about is that it’s over and my little chicken wing is better.  Thank you Lord!

Now those happier topics that I promised….

I’ve decided that one of the best things about living in the South is the warm water.  In Seattle, the rivers and oceans may be beautiful to look at, but you have to be a tougher woman than me to submerge yourself beyond your ankles.  After a lifetime spent playing in the ocean, skiing on the lake, and floating in swimming pools, it was quite an adjustment.  Since we’ve been back, we’ve been in or by the water every chance we could get.  Oh, how we love it!

Can you believe I can walk directly into this water in 1 and a half hours from my doorstep?

And that my girls can play in this sugar white sand? Is it heaven? Is it too good to be true?

I'm always so thankful to have Daddy there to bring some activity to the scene. Big Momma would much rather sit with her book 🙂

Mary Aplin riding the waves on Daddy's back.

And Pace taking her turn.

When they were tired of that, Daddy spurred on some friendly racing competition.

But when little sister never could get ahead of big sister...

...Look who came to the rescue 🙂

After a while, they wanted Mommy to try her pregnant hand at body surfing. I graciously answered this summons. Be thankful there was no camera.

On this particular week, Daddy left us a few days early to go camping with some of his guy friends, and Mommy had had all she could take of body surfing. So, after some serious deliberation...

They worked up the courage to do it all by themselves! (And Pace did eventually come up from the surf :))

Lest I lead you to believe we're all activity...I had a girls' weekend at the beach where I did little besides plant myself in a chair

And eat! At a restaurant that could give any Seattle establishment a run for its money.

Caliza at Alys Beach.

This lump crab meat with cream and sweet corn...Lordey mercy!

I'm so thankful for my sweet Dad, who lets us stay at his place as much as we want, and for free. Thanks Dad!!!

We've also been to the lake (Lake Martin if you're curious which one).

This time, Konie was our gracious hostess!

I think he was threatening to throw Pace off.

So we told him that maybe he should have a few turns by himself, instead of trying to scare US to death. Why does he throw his arm up like that??

And how does one regain balance after this?

Dad, our fearless captain who tirelessly pulled grandchildren and son-in-law all. day. long.

Konie and I stayed on the boat, except for an occasional swim in the lake.

Late that afternoon, we broke up some watermelon with the neighbors. Does this look like a picture of Americana or what?

Around sunset, Konie's son Jarod and his wife Elena arrived, and we went out for one last ride on the water.

Jarod on the water.

And Jarod in the air...Apparently he feels the same need to throw one of those arms in the air??

My hearts on the water at the end of a wonderfully long day.

{My mother-in-law rescues dogs and loves on them until she finds them good homes.  Because you really don’t want to see any pictures pertinent to the following post :), I’ve included some shots of a handful of her little darlings.  There are lots more to see, so if you’re interested in giving a good home to one of these guys or want to see pictures of more, then email me–or leave a comment–and I’ll forward your information on to her.}

Last Friday, I was killing a little time at a furniture store in downtown Dothan, before I popped across the street to take Mary Aplin to a birthday party at the Art Museum (yes! we do have one of those here).  Her tummy had not been normal that morning, but she’s (almost) 4, and I figured she had just eaten something that didn’t sit well with her the night before…I was soon to find out how wrong I was.

“Mommy,” I hear an urgent little voice squeak, “I need to go potty bad.”

I grabbed her hand and ran to the restroom, only to find that much of the (ahem) deed had already occurred in her panties…And something was bad wrong.  There was also no toilet paper or paper towels to be found in the bathroom–Yay!  I’ll save you the gory (literally) details, although I’ve been talking to everybody in the world about bowel movements lately–like it’s the most normal dinner conversation in the world.

We’re working on day seven of this horrific illness, and for the past three days she has spent the majority of her days unable to get off the commode.  It’s been hell.

I’ve taken her to the doctor, I’ve talked to three different doctor-friends that I trust, and I still get overwhelmed and scared for my tough, sickly little chicken wing when I see her wiped out and unable to get off the potty for long periods of time.  I told my friend that I feel like nobody is hearing me when I tell them how bad this thing is.  Surely stronger men have died from this very affliction, and I’m watching my helpless 3 year old bear it?!  It hurts my heart!

We are still waiting for some lab work to come back.  The first two tests (C. Diff and Rotavirus) have come back negative, and we’re waiting for the other cultures to…grow, yuck.  Anywho, I know this isn’t a fun blog, but it is all that my world has entailed for the week.  I would covet your prayers.  I’m sure it really is just diarrhea, but my (crazy, pregnant) mother-instinct has been going off like a siren–scared it’s something worse.  Hopefully, I’ll be back with good news and something a little more interesting next week.  Until then, I’m off to wipe a little hiney, disinfect two sets of hands, and lysol a bathroom for the eight hundred and fifty-nine thousandth time.

I just went back and re-read the post  that I wrote as our life in Washington began:

I remember those feelings so well, especially as we stand before another new beginning–that doesn’t seem quite so mysterious.  I remember wondering, then, what this post–after it was all said and done–would say?  What was it that Jeremiah and I both felt looming before us as we wove through the Cascade mountains?  There were the obvious things–spine training, time to write, growth as a little family on our own–but we both knew there was more, something else besides the obvious.

It was different for both of us.  I don’t want to share too much of Jeremiah’s heart, although I hope that one day I’ll get him back on here to do that himself, but I will say that God brought him through some tough things over the past year.  It was a threshing season for him–a time for sifting through the chaff–and a threshing is never fun while you’re experiencing it.  Today, however, even Jeremiah is beginning to see the beauty that’s been revealed through it all.

Lastly, God confirmed another call on my life while I was in Seattle.  Yes, I want to minister to other women, but more importantly, He issued a priority list.  This may not sound life-altering to you, but for me it is just that.  He calls me first to be His, secondly to love, respect, and support my husband, and third to love and nurture my children.  I think that is the priority list for all Christian Moms, and while I don’t always (or even usually) live that way, I at least knew those three before.  The question for me lies in what is seated in priority seat number four?  There are lots of wonderful things crowding around, asking to be listed there: ministering to other women, being involved in our church, my own health/fitness, Bible studies, charities and volunteering galore, becoming a better cook…We all have a list, don’t we?  But we also have a finite amount of time and energy, and we can give so much to our lower priorities that our energy (and happiness) falls away, leaving our solid first three to feel the devastating effects of it.  Maybe we can do all things, but we cannot do all things well.

And so, I needed a number four.  What is His primary calling on my life outside of being His, a wife, and a mom?… … …He has called me to write.  To be a writer.

It is terrifying for me to write those two sentences.  In the same way, it was a beautiful validation from Him to me about the dearest, hidden longing in my soul.  It is empowering to feel His blessing to say “No” to some good things in order to say “Yes” to something that I’ve tucked away as a guilty pleasure.  Not anymore!  He has told me its importance, it’s my number four!  And while there are so many wonderful things I learned while we were in Seattle and so much growth that happened in my life, to have Him tell me He wants me to write is the most exciting and fulfilling.

I want to end our Washington posts with a little writing from the dearest person in my life.  Jeremiah says we wrote this song together, but really that is not true–and it sort of is.  It is one of the best nights we spent in Seattle: both of us sitting on the floor in front of a warm fire, sharing a tumbler of whiskey, a guitar in his lap, and a pile of notecards in mine.  The space needle and the Seattle skyline twinkled outside of our window as line after line fell from his lips.  I thrive on being allowed in to his creative side, to listening in amazement as it comes so naturally to him.  I would offer a clumsy phrase, he would tell me to write it down on a card.  I would write madly on his cards, to try and catch the thoughts before they dissipated.  Then we would sort through to find the treasures in the overflowing piles.  I am happy to tell you that not a single one of my cards made it to the keeping pile…but I must agree that it still felt a little like a song we had written together.  It certainly is a song that encompasses the time our family shared this past year.  {I have tried and tried to upload a rough recording that we made in the past, but I cannot get it to work.  Until I do, here are the words.}

“Washington”

Have you taken your head to the foot of a mountain?/ Have you taken your feet to the head of a stream?/ Have Columbian Valleys made room in your mind?/ Have you given your taste a drink of their wine?

In Washington, oh Washington, Washington…the Cascades will free you.

Can you walk the hill of Capitol without making a smile?/ Then turn your feet to Broadway and give them a mile./ Can your paintbrush still thread through the eye of the Needle,/ When the day leaves nothing but clouds on your easel?

In Washington, oh Washington, Washington…the streets they will change you.

Have your skis made tracks in the woods of Mazama?/ Has your mind made light on the Wall of the Goat?/ Have you picked up a stone to cast in the Methow?/ Did you ever stop to wonder if maybe it would float?

In Washington, oh Washington, Washington…her rivers, they’ll move you.

Have your daughters been west to heights of Olympic?/ Have their hands reached up towards the face of their God?/ Have you listened to their voices raised up in laughter?/ Did they blend with the echoes where Natives once trod?

In Washington, oh Washington, Washington…those daughters become you.