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| If you don't already know this about me, I am almost famous for my strange and vivid dreams. Here is last night's dream:
I am walking through the very crowded halls of my/a high school (it was Timothy Christian, but it wasn't). I don't know how I know this, but I am dead, and so is everyone else here. We are in heaven (or a tiny portion of it, anyway). We are all hugging each other in greeting because we are so happy to see each other. I see Mandy, JoAnn, Jenny, Stephanie, Tabitha, Amanda, Tim, and all of my closest high school friends. I am crying. Someone I don't know asks me how I could possibly be crying in a place like this. I had to try and explain that it was sheer joy/relief in knowing that all of the people that I have cared about in my lifetime are now safely at "home." A teacher is explaining that we are all going to stay here at the school until our powers have been revealed.
I hear a couple of names called over the intercom, mine is one of them. I need to report to the cafeteria because my name isn't in the "system" yet. I wander around the cafeteria, not sure who I need to report to. I see people paying with credit cards and I laugh to myself, "Why do we need credit cards in heaven?" A sleazy-looking guy with dark hair pulled back in a hair-net asks me if I'm next. I tell him I need to add my name to the system. He looks up Neumair on his computer (after I had to tell him how to spell it numerous times) and it's not there. He eventually finds me under my maiden name, which was also misspelled in the system. I think to myself, "For being in heaven, they sure have a lousy system."
I am in my room, which is essentially a very large, open-ended tube with bedding for a floor. Very comfortable. While everyone else is looking out the end of the tube that faces into heaven, I am looking out the back end, over a giant desert filled with parked cars. The wind whips the orange sand. One of the teachers asks me why I keep looking back. "Doesn't everyone look back?" I wonder. "At first," he answers. "Maybe for about an hour, or the first day at most. Not like you." I continue to scan the cars. His has to be here. It just has to. "Are you sure he's supposed to be here?" Yes, I'm sure.
Suddenly I spot the green contour I am searching for so desperately. The license plate matches! But he isn't in it. I see him trudging through the dunes toward the cafeteria, his hand over his eyes to protect it from the harsh sun and wind-blown sand. I am plowing through the crowded hallway as fast as the others will let me. In a very Hollywood like moment, I run into his arms. We are both crying. "I've never been so scared in my entire life... Well, afterlife." I whisper into his ear, giggling at my lame joke. He takes my hand and together we walk to the computer to add his name into the system. I'm not the only Neumair any more. | | |
| I've been told that grief often comes in cycles, where the anguish you feel finally fades only to later come back just as painful as before. I've been blessed in the sense that I've never experienced enough grief to ever experience these cycles.
Until Tim. I don't know why it suddenly weighs heavy on me now, two and a half years later...
Perhaps Hannah has something to do with it. I really wish he could have met her. I wish he could see me now. Although his heart probably burned with jealousy when I met Chris, I know he was genuinely happy for me that I was finally happy. And I'm even happier now. He would have loved Hannah. Like his own daughter. He always was so good with kids.
I am tempted for a moment to say that it's too bad that his life was cut short before he could have kids of his own. But I don't actually believe that. I believe that Tim's story was written to be this way from the beginning of time. Although it hurts me (and any of us who struggle to understand all of the whys behind his murder), God's plan in Tim was completed on June 15, 2007, at least in his lifetime on this earth.
I am reminded to live every day from the perspective of eternity. That's where I'm headed, after all.
I miss you, Tim. | | |
| I still think Hannah's 5th month was my favorite month so far, although each new stage brings plenty of new things to enjoy. I love that Hannah can finally sit unassisted and can pick up toys that she's dropped without a problem. I love that she is learning how to feed herself (although she still doesn't understand how to use a sippy-cup). On the whole, she is still a very independent baby who plays happily by herself on the floor while I get my work done on the computer.
I miss the days when we were introducing rice cereal, however, and it was more for practice and less for nutrition. It didn't matter if we missed a meal back then. Now it does. And there are some days (and perhaps this makes me a bad mom) where I am simply tired of devoting so much time to feeding this little one. It's especially rough when she's smearing oatmeal and prunes onto nearly every surface within her reach (and yes, she can reach the top of her head).
But in general, this is a very fun stage in life, for me. A lot of my friends have either recently had babies or will have them soon (or like my college roommate, is still in labor right now). I am happy to be a member of the Mom club. And as tempting as it is to go for #2 right now, I'm happy to just enjoy Hannah for a while longer. She lights up my life. | | |
| For all the moms (and future moms) out there, we all know that life is filled with the most random, hilarious moments surrounding our children. I definitely had one of those moments just now.
As I was dressing Hannah for bed, she randomly started screaming in pain, and for those of you that know anything about my daughter, she NEVER cries! So for her to scream like this was a rare occurrence indeed. Panicking, I immediately stripped her naked and ran my screaming naked baby as fast as I could into the bathroom around the corner so I could examine her in the bright lighting (picturing this scene is hilarious in itself!). Hannah soon quieted down as I examined her, so I hugged her out of relief. Well, I must have squeezed her too tightly or else Hannah was equally relieved, because she proceeded to relieve herself all over my lap. As soon as I felt the wet warmth spreading on my legs, I almost began to cry, but I bust out laughing instead. Here I am, home alone, cuddling my naked 7-month old daughter who just peed all over me, laughing my head off.
I'm still not sure what was bothering her, or why the first solution that came to mind was to get her naked, but she's doing just fine now.
And I'm still laughing. (And doing more laundry.) | | |
| God has given me an awful lot to chew over lately. I just wanted to share a few of these thoughts, but I will *attempt* to be brief.
First, He is reminding me to be thankful for the faith I have, even though I admit I have too much head knowledge and very little heart. I *am* thankful, especially as I watch others trade in the truth for a lie.
Secondly, God had been teaching me SO much about my purpose. So in order to infuse some of my abundant head-knowledge to my heart, God has been reminding me of one of the chief purposes of humanity: to know God. In fact, the number one priority of my day should be to come to know Him better.
But what about my physical purpose (as opposed to my spiritual purpose to know God)? Right now my purpose is to grow my daughter, and not to lose the 23 pounds of baby weight I'm still packing (and the 10+ additional pounds that needed to go before I got pregnant). One of my authors observes in her upcoming book that something (or someone) is beautiful if it fulfills its purpose. Therefore, I am beautiful, because I am fulfilling my purpose in growing Hannah. I know it sounds silly, but it was a rather freeing revelation to me. I am finally learning to be more comfortable in my overstretched mom skin.  | | |
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