Twins… “psych!”

/ abby hummel / 11 Comments

miracle

Twins has been a surprising word theme for this summer and fall.

Three times in these recent months we have had friends secretly share surprise joy with us – not one, but two little babies on an ultrasound screen – with no explanation but amazement at the rare gift of an extra baby that God tends to give about once in every hundred fruitful pregnancies. Three times we have rejoiced to the best of our ability. Sometimes I’m giddy with joy, but sometimes I just try to ignore the shriek in my soul asking what maniacal mystery it is that some people get two of them at the same time?!  It got to the point that we joked everyone must be having twins. The fresh awkwardness has worn off somewhat, and we grieve that these three twin pregnancies are only resulting in five expected babies now, after all.

Very often I have contemplated Jesus’ disciple Thomas, whose name means “the twin,” the apostle who had to see, with so many unknowns for the future. We were rapidly approaching Aaron’s graduation date without any clue about what the coming year beyond graduate school would bring, and not knowing how to dream for the future. Do I have to leave all my piano students? Will it ever feel okay to dream of good things for a life that doesn’t include having the baby this spring? Is it even worth thinking about having kids anymore? I like to know things and found a great challenge in wrapping up Aaron’s season of grad school with these big questions in such limbo. 

Very often, like Thomas, I have felt that war between the twins of belief and doubt inside myself.

And then sometime this fall, we sensed our original ideas about where to live and what to do falling apart. Time for some re-dreaming. We began talking and thinking very seriously about the Twin Cities in Minnesota, where Aaron was invited to complete more research after graduating in December. This was the sort of job he hadn’t looked into, in a location we hadn’t considered before, and an income level we were not initially drawn toward before. In short, it was not on the list of options I already gave God. But as the details came to light, we thought and prayed, and before long it was clear there would be peace in no other path.

For years we have anticipated moving forward, living closer to family, getting smart phones, maybe going on trips(!!!), first-hand clothes, a big house with plenty of room for children and guests, and staying put wherever we were. Instead, we are moving to Minnesota at Christmastime, which alone indicates we must be crazy, and we are only committed for three years. This act of assumed insanity also requires selling this little house we love to get one even further away from our families and figuring out how to embrace the possibility of a temporary location again, though smart phones and a real guest room are pretty much non-negotiables for the next stage. (So plan on visiting, please. We will have room for you to stay with us and fancy gadgets to assist our sight-seeing navigation.) 

Godhead here in hiding, whom I do adore
Masked by these bare shadows, shape and nothing more
See Lord at thy service low lies here a heart
Lost, all lost in wonder, at the God thou art.

I am not like Thomas, wounds I cannot see,
But can plainly call thee Lord and God as he…
– St. Thomas Aquinas

This doesn’t offer a solution for everything I’m working through right now. There are still questions. I knew there would be. But for now, we’re walking (running!) bravely through the open door to a new adventure in Minnesota, and I get the impression God still hears questions there.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face. Now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. – 1 Corinthians 13:12

—

Of course, this surprising turn of events spurs many interesting conversations at home. (Aaron is very hilarious so it doesn’t take much to induce an interesting conversation, I suppose.)
Me: “We always pray and pray, and when we finally make plans, the total opposite thing happens. What do you feel like God is trying to say to us?”
Aaron:  “He’s totally got an animated look on His face, delightedly exclaiming, ‘PSYCH!'”

Oh, my.

[image HERE]

[image HERE]

reading round-up (10.11.13)

/ abby hummel / 2 Comments

It’s been a very busy week for us, with listing our house for sale and taking a weekend trip — more updates on those things will certainly come! For now, a few reads from this week…
—
My Bible study group is going through Matthew’s Gospel this year, and I was struck by the passage about worry and food in relation to the articles I posted about the GMO crop debate last week. I appreciated a post about people who can’t afford “organic food,” with the caveat that I don’t even think the idea of organic is as admirable as the author. Plenty of things considered “organic” fertilizer/herbicide can be harmful for our bodies, too, and frankly, after living in a 3rd-world country as a child, obsession with this just seems like affluent narcissism. My motto? Eat delicious food that comes out of the ground before you eat food that comes out of a box when possible, and in the words of Jesus…

“Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food?….Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”  – Matthew 6:25-27

—
In preparation for listing the house, the past few weeks have included significant clutter purges and more deep-cleaning than I have done in the entire first four years we lived in the house. My favorite blog for encouragement on this topic is Small Notebook, and I owe a significant debt to whoever figured out Pledge furniture polish works better on Stainless Steel appliances and sinks than specialty cleaners. It really works, and I’m a fan. Most surfaces in our house are wood or stainless steel, so I’m like the dad from My Big Fat Greek Wedding who loves Windex, only with a spray bottle of lemon-scented oily wonder.
windex(This is probably the first and only time anyone will get cleaning tips from me.)
—

for sale!

/ abby hummel / 2 Comments

 

 

I have no intention of being cryptic here, folks. This summer and fall have brought a weird mix of delight and valley-of-the-shadow-of-death to my life, but I have good news! With the exception of messy flower beds that I meant to tackle this summer before traveling, morning sickness, another miscarriage, etc., got in the way… the little house on the hill has become everything I envisioned when we first bought it. The never-ending kitchen project is completed, the bathroom is perfect, and this yard is, in the words of my friend’s daughter, “just like playing in Narnia!”

I mean… I even put some mums by the front door. We have really got it together over here.

downsizeALL JUST IN TIME FOR THIS, I suppose. (Also, we sold the chickens and miss them already!)

 

reading round-up (10.04.13)

/ abby hummel / 8 Comments

—
Too bad it’s controversial to argue that the primary purpose of high school is educating students. Here’s an article I found really interesting about a school that ended their high-school sports programs in favor of a (much cheaper) school-wide fitness initiative. Most of my teacher friends say school sports should be abolished in favor of intramural or club teams, which would take no money from the school and no class time away from the students, and I would love to read about more schools trying this!
—
This month my piano students and I are celebrating “Bach-tober,” in honor of the German composer Johann Sebastian Bach. I enjoyed reading about the Resurrection themes of his life and music. Anyone interested in a further look at his life might enjoy Evening in the Palace of Reason, by James R Gaines, and anyone just wanting to listen to some cool music should check out the Bach-stiftung YouTube channel.
—
So, speaking of education and music… Why Tough Teachers Get Good Results explains a lot (to me) about what worked and didn’t work in my academic classes last year, and Peter Lawler’s follow-up Teaching As Shouting is helping me evaluate my philosophy as a music teacher. Private music lessons are still mostly a “bonus” activity for many families, and I’ve always had the impression the kids who most need some straight talk about their work ethic or focus are the ones with parents who would withdraw them from the studio if they ever cried during or after a lesson.
Lawler also had some interesting comments on stress. I found the first sentence alarming and the rest encouraging: “The best way to handle stress is to routinely experience it. [OH NO!] As Aristotle says, the best way to come to possess the moral virtue of courage is actually to be in situations where courage is required to live well. The more the virtue becomes your own, the easier it is to keep your head, choose well, and even be happy in risky situations.” I think instead of saying my life feels stressful right now, I want to start saying it is full of risky situations. That sounds more adventurous.
—
Debate about GMO crops hits close to home for us because of Aaron’s research in that field and, contrary to some public opinions, actual scientific research about the safety and benefits of crop engineering has been overwhelmingly positive!
—

The Bathing Suite

/ abby hummel / 5 Comments

I’ve been dreaming about a bathroom remodel for a while. For a little over four years, to be honest. I describe the original bathroom as an example of everything that was wrong with bathrooms in the 1950’s on a jumbo scale. We wanted to get this done last winter, but quickly discovered it was impossible to think about projects while I was teaching six academic classes and thirty-three piano lessons every week.  So it sat all alone and ugly for a while longer than we wanted, and spring break turned into a bathroom disaster when our one working shower’s tile walls started coming off in sheets. This conveniently occurred just before hosting six adults and a toddler for a weekend in our two-bed one-bath home. A sheet of orange plastic protected the bare plaster in the stall from getting entirely soaked when we showered.

DSC05385

The plastic sheet stayed there for three-and-a-half months. Shameful.

My birthday weekend included some help from my dad with our new tub/shower combo tiling situation.
DSC05460

Then eventually, piano recitals came, and classes ended, and it was summer. And it was time to buckle down on this debacle. (Yes, this doesn’t look any better, but it’s always darkest just before dawn.) DSC05381

After a difficult season that included blood, sweat, tears, Aaron declaring he doesn’t know if he can remodel anything again ever, and another visit from my parents (we are terrible slave drivers), we no longer have a plain old bathroom. No, we have a Bathing Suite.

Suite 1

The bathtub is now also a shower with tiled walls, with no further awkward questions about the efficacy of bathing in a dark, slimy stall.suite 4

 

The brown fake tile from the walls was ripped off, and because I was not ambitious enough to get the plaster underneath smooth enough to paint, I hung beadboard-imitation-paintable-wallpaper on the bottom half of the wall. In retrospect, I’m not convinced this was the best course of action. I bought it before we made some other final decisions that might have pushed me towards actual bead-board paneling, but it’s done and it’s fine.

Suite 5

We have a spacious and effective linen closet in place of that old shower, a slim vanity, and amazing flooring. I love this floor so much I would sleep on it. (I suppose that’s not something I should actually say, because I usually sleep in the bathroom if I’m really sick and I don’t want that to happen.)
Suite 3

We saved most of the original towel bars, and I’m really happy with how they fit in with everything else.

Suite 2Clearly, we are bathing in absolute luxury now! I still can’t believe it’s done after years of hoping…

 

reading round-up (9.27.13)

/ abby hummel / 1 Comment

(Here’s a round-up of some recent reads I thought worth sharing – enjoy!)
—
There are, apparently, still people in the world who think daughters should not seek higher education or employment and career under any circumstances. I won’t rant about all the logical fallacies that position yet, but I’m glad there are people who do a great job of poking fun at this foolishness, exemplified in “Six reasons not to send your SON to college!” 

—
I’m relatively unimpressed by hip baby photography with props and contortions and unrealistic settings. My “newborn photo” was taken by a hospital nurse on the day my parents took me home and even though one of my eyes was closed — talk about “unflattering” — I haven’t felt like it really hurt me in any way later in life. However. I just found this article about a woman who had “newborn style” pictures taken of her teenage son right after he was adopted and now I can’t stop laughing. 

—
I appreciated this memorial for Sheldon Vanauken (1914-1996), who was the author of one of my favorite books: A Severe Mercy. (Anyone who has loved someone, and loved — or hated — God should read the book!)

—
This article about kids and safety made me especially grateful for parents who valued adventure, hard work, and responsibility over false safety nets. Yes, I may have buzzed myself with a screwdriver near a live outlet and my sister accidentally somersaulted a full 360′ flip off a roof once. (We didn’t tell Mom about that one until we reached adulthood, for obvious reasons.) We put the sprinkler underneath the un-netted trampoline. Our life on the mission field wasn’t safe and sterile. I’m convinced this prepared us for life much better than an artificial safety umbrella would have. (Also, I began using power tools from a very young age and I’m really proud of that.)
—

Sickie Blogging – Happy Fall!

/ abby hummel / 3 Comments

Nothing inspires a thought such as, “Oh, I guess I could update my blog after a month to reassure people I’m not dead,” like being in bed with a nasty fall bug and a series of exhausting half-finished projects taunting me while I am home ill.

What has life been like in the past weeks? Busy. We remodeled the bathroom entirely. Our family had another wedding in Michigan, making it my fourth trip back-and-forth across the midwest this summer.

Aaron is feverishly working on his dissertation. My piano studio is keeping me so busy that I have a waiting list of students who would want to take lessons if I had a slot available. We have been working very hard for years, and these successes are marvelous gifts. In a way, this feels like we are getting that second burst of energy at the end of a race, as though the light at the end of a tunnel is blindingly bright.  We’re also doing some re-dreaming about the next phase of our life after he graduates, and discerning how to walk best with our desire for a family, our location, and our vocations. I’m pretty sure it’s not going to look like we had planned, but God has been very gracious to close and open doors in a way that takes some of the agony out of making these big decisions. A saving grace in some of these hectic days is that we have sold a significant amount of our stuff online, which streamlines some parts of life while we’re settling into a Fall that’s turning into a whole new kind of adventure.

autumn

Autumn is my favorite season, bringing the delights of soups, sweaters, candles, plaid, roasted acorn squash, hot wassail, and bonfires to accompany the witness of nature: God ordains a lot of beauty in seasons of ending and loss. I’m really thankful that is true.

to laugh or cry?

/ abby hummel / 9 Comments

Before I share the following snippets of life in the past few weeks, I must note that while Scripture doesn’t explicitly teach that God has a sense of humor, I feel like it’s an undeniable truth.

As an expression of jealousy that the bigger chickens have successfully laid eggs for several weeks, Snowflake saw an opportunity to fly-hop herself out of the coop and decided to do a little free-ranging in the back yard. Oops. I eventually scooted the other chickens to their roost and created a Hansel-and-Gretel style trail of scratch and watermelon rinds for her to follow into the coop of her own volition. It worked. Considering that I will probably eat her someday when she has given me all the eggs her body will produce, it’s disturbing to see I am fitting into the role of the fairy-tale witch pretty well here.
downsize (8)

Though I have been mercifully spared from any additional medical catastrophes accompanying our recent miscarriage, I am obediently taking quite a bit of physician-recommended ibuprofen. I find this warning most …ironic, I suppose.
ibuprofenI found out Walgreens has been selling a generic product that makes a very, very bold claim. (I considered rubbing it all over my tummy just in case.)
downsize (7)Apparently the shower needed some ultimate healing, too, because the caulk mysteriously peeled itself up, so we were without a shower for a while until I VERY CAREFULLY cleaned it out and applied the new caulk. Then we waited even longer than label directions indicated before testing it out, just in case.0813131624In that process, I scratched my eye, which was depleted of it’s natural defense mechanism (tears) due to excessive crying jaunts,  and then ended up in severe pain with symptoms of infection that necessitated more visits to the Doctor’s office and a very expensive bottle of antibiotic drops, which made me gasp even after my insurance kicked in their share.
downsize (9)When I say this corneal abrasion caused “severe pain,” I really mean that THERE ARE NO WORDS to describe it, which is saying a lot coming from me. All is mostly well now, I’m just overly sensitive to bright lights yet and wearing sunglasses most of the time.

In every one of these little situations, I haven’t know whether to laugh or cry in response… but there has been plenty of both of those happening at our house, sometimes even at the same time. I think this is healthy. I have learned it is possible to be so overwhelmed by emotion that you are laughing and crying simultaneously, which happened when I was telling Aaron the only thing I wanted in life was to become hermits, get a dog, and hike the Grand Canyon until we died of old age, and I was suddenly struck with the inspiration to name the dog “Burro.” It is more awkward when one person is in agony, as I was during my opthalmological issues, and another unnamed individual is laughing, saying things like, “It seems you are a picture of perpetual misery.”

Other than all this, I snuck in another  summer road-trip to Michigan. Crazy? Yes, but it means I spent a weekend on the beach with some of the best girls in the world AND got to see almost everyone on both sides of our family for a few hours when we weren’t immediately setting up for a wedding, which is rare for us.beach weekendPlenty of laughter and crying happened during that trip, too, in addition to several stops at the same family-style diner for breakfast several days in a row, because that’s how we do things. This unpredictable mix of joy and sadness is all as it should be for now, I think.

too heavy

/ abby hummel / 7 Comments

In the aftershock of bad news, I seek out solo projects. I think it’s a good system. Working in the sun and accomplishing something seems to bring mental clarity to the cloudy thinking of grief, but you can’t really avoid feelings the way aimless web browsing or watching movies allows for.  We have been touching up the exterior of the house, so it was high time I got around to painting a second coat on my garage door.

garage doorMy big confession here is that it was three years between coats of paint. We’ve been doing a lot in the meantime, and Aaron and I are both notoriously bad at getting things half-way done, so we’re trying to do a lot of “finishing” this year. The big push that got me started painting this the first time was our first miscarriage, and so I was thinking about that during the second round of painting. I was remembering the shock of a loss after falling in love with a really cute heartbeat on an ultrasound screen, about missing a little baby I would never set on my lap, about the million questions I couldn’t help asking then. At that point I was pretty sure I could get through things if I just “knew.” If I could just know I would feel better someday, and that I would be ready and able to have a baby at a certain time, even if it wasn’t as soon as I wanted, I thought I would be satisfied. Or even if I knew I would not have a baby, I could at least start making peace with that and build dreams for that life, too.

I would not have been satisfied to know that not only would there be a three year gap for touching up the paint, but it would also occur fresh off a third consecutive loss, when the doctors stop saying it’s a sad fluke and you’ll have a new baby in no time as they do at first. I did not know yet, when I was 2 years out of college, that sometimes knowledge isn’t the gift that we want it to be.

[Father] turned to look at me, as he always did when answering a question, but to my surprise he said nothing. At last he stood up, lifted his traveling case from the rack over our heads, and set it on the floor.
“Will you carry it off the train, Corrie?” he said.
I stood up and tugged at it. It was crammed with the watches and spare parts he had purchased that morning.
“It’s too heavy,” I said.
“Yes,” he said. “And it would be a pretty poor father who would ask his little girl to carry such a load. It’s the same way, Corrie, with knowledge. Some knowledge is too heavy for children. When you are older and stronger you can bear it. For now you must trust me to carry it for you.”
– Corrie Ten Boom, “The Hiding Place.”

This doesn’t mean I’m not angry and asking, or that there aren’t going to be dark days with hard questions, but I want to keep these conversations with God and my doctors in perspective. God doesn’t owe me an explanation, and it might not be one that would make me happy anyway. The doctors owe me any information they have, but they can’t always figure things out or solve them. I am glad I didn’t always know the future in past difficulty, and that same troubling ignorance may be a blessing now, too. (And maybe if I preach it loud enough to myself today, it will be easier to believe when I stop wanting to.)

Paint Disaster

Beyond these lofty thoughts, there is other frustrating news cropping up in the painting project. We have just discovered, after four years, that our house is at least three different shades of brown. It seems that there has been a lot of color-matching-of-a-color-match for paint supplies under the previous owner’s care, which looks okay until we try to repair anything. All three of these areas have been repainted, and the paint that is right for the window trim is wrong in different ways for both of the top two pictured areas. Scraping and repainting the trouble spots has become very complicated.

toenails

/ abby hummel / 28 Comments

I don’t really think there’s an eloquent way to break bad news: We have welcomed and lost another baby. Yep. Ugh.

Today I painted my toenails in hopes of hanging on to some shred of dignity. I also took a shower, which is a big deal on days like this. I did nothing to my hair, though, which means it’s a wavy, floppy mess. I’m wearing no makeup, since it would just end up in a salty smear on my pillowcase at some point today. I’m swollen in the middle, far beyond my waist’s usual boundaries, as evidence that my body has been denying the reality of the baby’s death for a few weeks now. My stretchy shorts are a little, uh, unflatteringly stretched. I think about those verses in Psalms about being like a brute beast before the Lord on days like this. I’m glad my toenails look good.

Grief is funny, because even if I don’t think I’m overwhelmingly sad, unloading the dishwasher still seems like a task requiring significant emotional stamina. (At least I have a dishwasher, though. The hand-washing stage of the kitchen remodel was particularly difficult for our marriage.)

This side patio I’m sitting on has caught a lot of tears for a lot of babies over the years.

In my experience, the first trimester of pregnancy would be nothing to complain about if you get an actual baby out of it eventually, but when you don’t, it’s really annoying. I was so excited about coffee tasting good again that I drank two pots this morning. Now I’m agitated and shaky. It doesn’t help that I’m anxious about the possibility of needing a minor surgery during the course of this process. That’s pretty common, but letting the body proceed naturally, as has been my experience twice already, is far preferable. I don’t want to ignore the fact that this is hard work for the body, not just the heart. There is very little dignity in eating cottage cheese (protein!) out of the container and baby spinach (iron!) out of the bag for lunch like I did, but I think that’s the best fuel I can give myself. And really… if I use a plate, I’ll just end up putting it in the dishwasher and then having to put it away in the future. It’s probably best to save my strength.

No matter what difficulty comes, there are always gifts — and this is the one I’m really grateful for right now: Some girls I’ve been best friends with for eight years are visiting in a few days. These are the sort of friends who won’t care if I don’t clean the bathroom due to crying jags or impulsive crafting, and will bring fancy cheeses and wine and kleenex. It’s humbling and scary and wondrous that the cross-country road trip they scheduled before the baby existed is turning out to be a perfectly timed expression of God’s care and love, almost like it was planned that way. They will probably need to vacuum the guest room and put together the air bed upon their arrival because I can’t really see myself summoning the strength to take care of that.

But, like I said, I painted my toenails. So at least I’ve got something pulled together.

toenails

[What can you do? What do you say to someone who just had a miscarriage? I’ve written about it before, so mostly… if you want to say anything, just tell us you are sorry, that you love us, and that it’s okay with you if this is a big deal for a long time. And please remember, if you want to say something about the future or some divine purpose in this, that God does not owe me a baby or an explanation. You do not have the power to promise that I will get either one. I’m sure I’ll share more about that later when some of the shock and hormonal rush wears off, too!]