An Abundance of Love

I have two babies coming this summer.

Kiddles is having her first baby in June. A baby girl who she's giving a very special family name. Last Thursday morning I went to the ultrasound with Sam and Kiddles.

Baby girl weighs 11 ounces.  Life is such a miracle. It's mind-boggling to see the four chambers of her little heart pulsing and know that it's the size of a dime. 

Gabe and Cate are also having a baby this summer. Baby Griffin is due in July. We don't know the sex yet- but what an exciting summer it's going to be! What an abundance of Love and snuggles and excitement we will have!!

Today Ben-Ben turned two. I Facetimed them tonight and he said,
"Hi Gigi! I'm two! I'm two!" He melts my heart. We read Ayelee and Ben's favorite book, "There's a Monster in Your Book!" and Gabe's childhood favorite book, "Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Mo". Each turn of the page is creating a new memory while bringing back so many old memories. Gabe could recite the book by heart when he was three; I'm pretty sure he still can!

My heart is full and I'm so, so grateful for the abundance of love that's been bestowed upon me and my family.

Seventy-Two Degrees

The weather was beautiful today and this evening. Jacob and I built a fire on the back deck and grilled our hotdogs for dinner. 

The sky was clear, the moon had a beautiful ring of light around it. The raccoon from our woods ventured out to our driveway snooping around the neighbors back porch. The moon was bright enough that it reflected in the raccoons eyes, making him easy to track through the darkness.

Today's weather was perfect....but it was the conversation and easy pace of our evening that made it a warm night to be around the firepit. <3 br="" nbsp="">

Placidity in Motion

** I wrote this post almost 2 years ago but never posted it, I'm posting it now for personal record keeping.**

For the last four years I've been in constant motion- my brain has not rested- all my resources, energy and heart has been put into establishing, growing and marketing a rental division for work. Even in my "down time" my brain was planning, anxiously running numbers in my head, mentally tying up loose-ends left on my desk over the weekend or simply re-hashing decisions that were made the prior day to make sure I had made the best choices. I exhausted all my internal resources; the emotional and mental bankruptcy took it's toll on my creativity, motivation and spiritual wellbeing. It's no one's fault, this isn't a "poor me" post- it's more of a "this is what's going on and why" type of post.

I lost contact with people very, very important to me; including myself. My real self- not the one crawling on all fours trying to forge a path for survival. When I finally broke down to the point of complete exhaustion my doctor held both of my hands and said, "STOP. STOP. STOP. Literally, Casandra, listen to me....I'm not asking you to slow down. I'm not asking you to take a chill pill. I'm telling you to STOP."

It was a chilling moment. A moment of her holding me in place, locking eyes with me. She wasn't pleading. She wasn't advising. She was commanding. And it scared me.

She advised me to resign from my job within a month. The thing I was molding, building and nursing for four years to sustain my livlihood was killing me? She was very dogmatic.

Obviously, I didn't quit my job. But I did resign some of the self-inflicted anxiety and quit shouldering some of the worries that wasn't my place to shoulder; I am drawn towards and adopt responsibilities like little girls are drawn to cute puppies.

In the midst of getting better, having infusions and learning to quelch the voices of anxiety I was reclaiming lost territory within myself. I re-read books that had shaped me spiritually. I dug out an old sermon tape that I used to listen to for spiritual refilling. I found the things that encourage and inspire me and dusted them off, polished them up and started doing them again.

I STOPPED. I really did. And things changed. My perspective changed. The anxiety that hovered over me like a fog started to clear and I felt different. I felt more like myself.

It takes a little time sometimes
To get your feet back on the ground
It takes a little time sometimes
To get the Titanic turned back around
It takes a little time sometimes
But baby, you're not goin' down
It takes more than you got right now
Give it, give it time
Two years have passed since my doctor said that to me. It's taken a full two years to come to grips with priorities and learning to let go and adapt as priorities can change from one day to the next. It's really, really hard to let go; sometimes, harder than it is to hold on.

Febreezing The Blog

I'm going to be much more intentional about blogging/journaling this year; even if it's only once a month. I will be making a concerted effort to fluff and "febreeze" the blog over the next few weeks with new layout, graphics and updated profile information to freshen it up.

I'm excited to begin writing again and hopefully, with the blogging comes picking up my camera and making time to tell stories through photography.

Full Circle Kind of Love

Last July one of my clients passed away, over the last 8 months or so, his wife of 54 years has been my point of contact. Watching her grieve has been like watching a slow, slow train wreck; her pain is palpable. She was so well loved and everything in her demeanor expressed security, contentment and wellbeing in the most postive ways.

I took this photo in Asheville some years ago.

Today, making small talk while I was pulling up her account she mentioned that her daughters took her shopping for granite yesterday. She said her girls are in the process of remodeling her house. She laughed, "I have a state of the art kitchen and no one to cook for." She sighed.

She also mentioned that her grand-daughter (a well known interior designer in the area) has ordered her all new living room furniture and rugs. There's painters in and out. A new french door leads to the back patio. She sighed again. "The girls are so excited. They're really having a time."

"That all sounds really nice, Mrs. S, how do you feel about the changes?"

She began to sob. I mean, the kind of sob that gushes out without warning and makes your gut twist when you hear the pain.

"Every day there's less of him. It's not been a year and he wouldn't even recognize our home. Every new piece is less of his memory here."

She cried for a few minutes. Gathering her composure she apologized for spilling all of this to me over a phone call.

I have to admit, I couldn't help but cry.

"Have you told your daughters that this may be a little too much, too soon for you?"

"They're loving me in the way that their daddy taught them- by giving of themselves." You could hear the smile in her voice as she said this, " They're having so much fun doing this- it's healing for them. And having them here is healing for me. A new chair doesn't take him a away any more than an old chair brings him back."

Blunt, honest, wide-eyed reality. So much wisdom.

I sat silent in my headset, staring out the window long after our call ended.

Love is so powerful and complex. In an incredible way, the very same pain that consumes her is the very love that's healing her.

A reflection of a heart in a window- taken in Asheville, NC.

May we all know a full circle love like this.

The Shadowlands

I went to my Grandpa's tonight. His mental capacity is declining at a rapid pace. Sometimes, showing him pictures jars his memory and his face lights up. You can literally watch the sparks of recognition firing off inside his brain and for a moment- it seems like a light sputters on in the back recesses of his mind. Tonight, he smiled while looking meaningfully at a picture....but like his memory, the smile faded pretty quickly.

This all feels painfully familiar. We buried my Grandma in 2004 after a 10 year sentence of withering away from the debilitating thievery of alzheimers. The disease that steals your loved ones from the inside out and leaves just the shells of them....sometimes, compeletely functioning and seemingly in perfect health.

Grandpa was still holding the picture I was showing him and tapping my phone screen saying, "This here's that family. That family in Missouri. They were good people. We used to run around with these boys."

I pointed to one of the men in the picture and said, "Do you know who that is Grandpa? Do you recognize him?"

He seems to have to really stare hard and concentrate to be able to make a connection with the locked up memories. He said, " I used to know him real good, you know. I don't think he's around here much. I haven't seen him. Not in awhile."

I saw a shadow of sadness pass in front of his eyes, but like his memory, my phone screen went black; the picture and moment were gone. Grandpa handed the picture of his brother and of himself back to me.

And I realized just how right he was...we haven't seen him around these parts for awhile now. Hot tears streamed poured down my face. Grace gave me tissues. I kept apologizing for bawling my eyes out on her couch. Grandpa just blankly stared at me. I try to imagine what he's thinking of me- Virtually a stranger to him. I've come to their house with pictures of people he used to know and now I'm sitting and bawling for no apparent reason. He seems unconcerned and uninterested. His hand is on the remote. He's ready to turn the Weather Channel volume up the moment he deems it's socially acceptable to do so. Grandma Grace pats me on the back and rubs my shoulder. She tells me that I need take this season of Grandpa's life in and ingest it in smaller doses. She said I should grieve it as I go. She wasn't around when Grandma Juanita died, but she said that Grandpa told her that I had a very hard time letting Grandma go. She suggested that I share the season, join the journey.. She said it would make it easier for me to face the inevitable...that one we all face at some point...and if you love someone, the one that we all are a part of. Grandma's sure can be wise....because I've been doing the exact opposite. My heart has hurt because I've avoided my grandpa....and I miss him, but I couldn't hardly face him....because he's dying before my eyes. He keeps asking her, Whose that woman? Whose your company, Grace? And Grandma said, "Honey, just come here so much that you become his company too. He'll quit asking. We just got to get you back in his memory, you're in there- he's just got to find you rattling around in there somewhere." And that's what I intend to do. I'm going to go and rattle around at Grandpa's house and make enough commotion and nuisance of myself until I bump into myself somewhere in his memories and say...."Hey! I used to know you real good!! I used to run around with you!! I haven't seen you in these part for awhile...but, I'm back....and I'm here to stay."

Arms of Love

I took prom pictures tonight of a girl who died in August.

She was the passenger of an inexperienced driver who over corrected on a country road and caused a horrible wreck. The girl was pronounced dead; life flight was cancelled. I don't know all the details, but because of the perseverence of a parademic- she was revived at the scene of the accident.

I didn't know any of this when I took this picture of her mom hugging her. I didn't realize the full extent of emotion the mom was experiencing when she teared up watching her daughter stand in the golden light of sunset in her prom dress and new shoes.

I can only imagine the experiences they have had makes every chance to create a memory, mark a milestone or share a moment all the sweeter.

There's a powerful story here that's not mine to share- but I can say this: we're all loved with an everlasting love. A true love that just smiles watching us stand in the golden light...a love that not only cherishes the sight of you now, but sees you in the fullness of who you're meant to be. Know that whether you feel it or not- whether you believe it or not- He's there with arms of love.