run, forest, run

when scott and i moved to cali a little over 4 years ago, we decided to embrace the california lifestyle and become runners.  we sort of figured that while in illinois we could use the weather as a scapegoat, but that moving to a city with an average of 264 sunny days/year that excuse was out the window.  on week one in sunny ton pleasanton, we both bought sparkly new tennies.  we devised a run schedule that would allow each of us to get some street time and hit the pavement.  for scott this lasted for a longer period.  as for me, it lasted for a total of about 3 runs.  i think i logged about 1.5 miles total in those three runs and decided that running might not be for me.  for reals.  i was not into it and could barely make it three houses down.

i should back up a little bit.  as a child i was a hot-potato athlete.  i participated in a few seasons of soccer, a few winters of gymnastics, logged a season or two on the ice dabbling in figure skating and then moved to virginia.  upon arriving in virginia, i discovered that gymnastics, soccer and any sports that required ice were a no-go for girls.  they just didn't have those sports once you hit middle school. i was a little bummed, but since i was a dabbler i quickly moved on.  for a brief stint i took up swimming.  i liked swim team quite a bit but had a hard time with the effects it had on my teenage hair.  i am one hundred percent serious when i say that i quit swim team because the chlorine was turning my hair orange.  i was a confident girl, but that was a not in the cards for me.  and so i quit.

in high school i became a team manager.  as someone who enjoys being involved (and as a teenager that enjoyed being around boys), basketball manager and soccer manager had my name all over it.  myself and a few of my besties would organize uniforms, take stats at the game, tend to towels and hydration and check our "participation in sports" box.  i mean it.  i lettered in managing.  (i have the letter to prove it.)  as a result, i had a lot of male friends and that worked pretty well for me- boys made better friends in that era in my life.

but there was a little bit of sadness due to the fact that i was not, by any stretch of the imagination, an athlete.

around nine months after we arrived in california, those new running shoes that had been tossed to the back of the closet began to call to me.  i can't explain why, but for some reason i felt like i had to put them on again.  it just so happens that a friend i had made at e's school started talking to me about running.  she asked me to join her and i obliged.

for lack of a better term, she kicked my arse.

turns out, she was a former oakland police officer who worked out A LOT and ran almost every day.  on our first run she had me going three miles and up large hills and at a very rapid pace.  i almost died and wanted to transfer schools after our first time out so as never to see her again.  it was ugly.

but i went back for more... because she was my friend and because i didn't want to be a quitter.

and for the better part of a year, i hit the pavement logging three miles three times a week with kari.  it went from something i did to something i enjoyed.  and what kari doesn't know is that in that year, she gave birth to a runner.  i am forever thankful.

in october of that year, i ran a 5k to raise money for my sister who was in the midst of cancer.  somehow, running a race for her felt like i was actually doing something to help her in her journey- while i realize that it did very little for her (aside from raising funds for a wig to wear during chemo), it did a lot for me.  it gave a place to put my energy/cancer angst and carved out time to pray for her recovery.

eventually, i moved schools and took up a new running partner (due to mismatched schedules with my former one).  dawn was up for the challenge and ran by my side for the better part of two 1/2 years.  we found a rhythm and we entered races- a 5k, a 10k and then the one that felt like it was out of the park...  she forced encouraged me to run a 10 miler across the golden gate bridge.

i loved every minute of it.

it was social- i cherished our chat time.  it was invigorating.  it was an outlet for stress and a way to feel a little bit more "healthy".  and when it was over, i contemplated tying my laces together and hanging up my running shoes.  i had a good run, so to speak.

but something within me kept nudging me foreword.  a half-marathon was just out of reach and i felt like i was so close.

and so i kept going.

again, due to changing agendas and schedules, i needed a new running partner.  lynn stepped right up to the plate.  she was in the midst of training for boston (she has been a serious runner for years) and was willing to run with ever so slow me.

suddenly, i found myself logging miles for my short runs alone and anxiously awaiting the long runs each weekend with her.  my pace improved.  my desire to get to 13.1 cemented and in the midst i realized that i was an athlete in the making.

an athlete.  for reals.

and today, lynn and i logged 13.1 in livermore at the inaugural runliv half marathon.

who knew?

certainly not i.  but i can tell you with certainty that i am not ready to hang up the shoes.  i surprised myself and finished with a time i can be proud of.  more importantly, i pushed myself to do something so out of the box for me and felt proud as i approached the finish line to see my family cheering me on.  it felt good to show my girls that their momma was an athlete.

and i guess it goes to show that who you were is never who you are.  we always get to have moments where we surpass even our own expectations for ourselves.  we get to reinvent and we get to redefine- day by day, little by little.

nothing is out of reach.

tootin' my own horn

i can't stop giggling.  it has been one REALLY long week.

a few weeks ago, the hubs approached me with a potential trip to the mid-west in march.  i looked at the books and just started laughing.  if you could pick the most stacked week of the year to be gone, this one was it.  but alas, the hubs has this day job gig and it is sort of vital to the buser abode.  what can you do?  not much.  and so i said, "book it", crossed my fingers, held my breath and said, "we're gonna do this!"

as life would have it, we had an epic plumbing fail a few days before his departure.

monday included the start of a spring sport schedule where two buser girlies have practices at different times and the turn-in of two science projects.

tuesday was a meeting with an insurance adjuster, gymnastics, some emails to send concerning a local school district issue and the science fair.  "i got this!"  and just to make things a little more fun, i decided that i needed to be a lumber jack and chainsaw down a couple of trees.  they had been in the pipeline for "things to do" for a while and our green waste bin was empty.  why not?  (i sang "timber" under my breath while feeling like the queen of the world operating power tools...  if you want to know the whole truth.)

wednesday was kindy round-up registration for pops, a class i love at the gym and an unexpected bout with food poisoning.  (just another day in the motherhood.)  oh, and did i mention day two of new alternating sports schedule?

thursday was more sports, early dismissal at kindy and the need to order a dumpster for bathroom dismantle over the weekend.  it was time to call for a pizza and wrap this party up.  oh and support a friend's home party in the evening (which was a little like a get-out-of-jail-free card, if i'm totally honest.)

friday was another early dismissal, an orthodontist appointment, and while i'm going strong...  i might as well finally paint the office...  why not?

and if i don't say so myself nobody else will say it...  i ROCKED it.  for the first time in the motherhood, i feel like "i got this!"

and then i got the text that the hubs was delayed from chicago...  my first inclination was to cry.  my second inclination was to order take-out and have a dance party.

i have four nasty trees down, three girls giggling, some poor dietary choices, a painted office, a dumpster in front of my house, three enlightened children thanks to the go-go's, a very cute new shirt on the way (from above mentioned party), a third kid registered for kindergarten, two tired swimmers and a smile on my face.  oh...  and i showered this week...  three times (just so you know).

it was sort of an epic week around here.  these moments don't happen often and so it seems fitting to celebrate them when i am able to pull them off well.  normally, i would just celebrate that we are all alive and wearing clean panties (yes, dawnie.  i said "pant

ies" on the blog.).  but this week took "daddy's out of town" to a whole new level!

we even posed for a few selfies...

marriage is what brings us together today

this post is personal.   i will warn you in advance.

years ago, my brother-in-law, approached his wife and told her he was letting go.  they had been married for many years and out of the blue he told her it was over.  he is a good man and i love him dearly, but he had been fighting demons for a long time and decided that an end was inevitable.

i was in the midst of nursing my pops at the time and felt like i had to do something.  but how do you "do" anything when dealing with others.  people get to choose what they choose.  you don't have to like it or agree with it, but it can affect you and those you love, none-the-less.

i chose to pray my heart out.  with each and every nursing session, i prayed for this marriage.  i prayed that my dear brother-in-law would find clarity.  i prayed for God to cement what had been united in matrimony.  i prayed for my niece and my nephews that they would be protected.  i prayed for my sister and all that she was having to endure.  it was an odd time.

and as life would have it, my pops was in for the long haul.  she nursed through the night for the better part of a year.  i imagine that i might have been miffed by this, but for the fact that i had committed my nursing sessions to a very specific prayer.  somehow, the prayer time for my sister, made me tolerate the lengthy nursing sessions more.  in fact, i rather savored them.  when pops would cry out to be fed in the wee hours, i ran to her side because i knew it was special time between my God and i.

through months and months of praying, i witnessed God speak into my heart.  there were days that i felt prompted to encourage and support my sister.  there were days where i felt God call me to reach outside of myself and connect with my brother-in-law.  there were days when i felt peace and there were days when i felt turmoil.  there were moments of hope and moments of despair.  but one thing remained constant.

i always felt like God was drawing me in.  in spite of the difficult nature of those prayer sessions, He never left me.  He whispered into my heart.  He gave me peace and He taught me so much about why intercessory prayer (praying on the behalf of another) is valued in His kingdom.

you see, we don't have to do life alone.  i think so many of us think that we do.  but the truth is, community and "family" and love births itself in those moments where we take on anther's burden.  i didn't have to feel like my sister's divorce was mine to participate in.  but i did.  and while i can't say that i even understand her pain a tiny bit, i know that God spoke to me boldly through this era.

in spite of my sister's willingness to forgive and hold on and move forward, her hubs did not feel the same.  he needed to sow his wild oats.  he gave way to his demons and he let go.

it crushed me to witness this firsthand.  i wanted God to redeem this marriage and to honor the vows that my sister remained committed to.

and as time unfolded it revealed to me the greatness of the gift that God has given us in free will.  it is such a difficult thing to understand, but it is one of the most amazing aspects of the Kingdom of Heaven.  through this time, i learned so much about a God that chooses us, but longs for us to choose Him.  it is hard to say this, but in spite of my sister's pain, i wouldn't change this experience because of all that God cemented in my heart about relationships and two way streets and free will.

i have been praying in earnest for my sister since that time.  i have watched her go through a divorce and choose to be an amazing woman with each and every step.  in spite of the pain, she always chose selflessness.  words just can't depict what she did.  she surrendered self and through each step chose grace and love.  when all things in a human calls for anger, she chose not to give in to the temptation.  when one might show up at the table with a feistiness, she chose calm.  she asked questions.  she loved lavishly and she put her children at the front always.

if i were in her shoes, i always imagined showdowns and lawyers and fights.  that was never her reality.  she always picked respect, the high-road and love.

and i sat back in awe.

it wasn't always easy.  there were many times when anger and frustration tried to grab hold of her.  but her faith was strong.  her conviction was solid and her love for Jesus always was the cream that rose to the top.

last fall, my sister told me about a friend that had contacted her through Facebook.  i'll admit, i was a little skeptical.  but just as soon as my earthly cynicism began to take hold, i felt God sweep in with a peace.

"tasha, do you trust me?  do you believe that i have a plan for those that choose me and love me and serve me?"  (do you notice a theme here in my faith walk?  i am pretty sure God gets tired of these little chats with me, but He never shows it.  He just keeps pressing in and holding my hand.)

it's a difficult question when the cards are stacked against that belief.

but i do believe.

God has been so good for so long.  history would tell me that God is full of surprises.  the Jesus that i love didn't come to die on a cross so that we would always suffer, but He came so that we would experience joy.  the road isn't always an easy one.  in fact, most often it is difficult.  but redemption is true and pure and from heaven.

and so i prayed.  early on in the relationship, i found myself begging God to not let my sister get hurt.

i should probably interject here that my sister is 7 years older than i.  finding myself in a situation where little old me was worried about older and wiser her was new.  it was odd.  it was out of body.  and yet, it was also part of what i felt God was using to define me.  as a younger sister of three, there are so many moment where you feel like you lack value and don't add meaning.  God used this prayer experience to teach me that my prayers matter.  regardless of who you are, He cares.  He listens.  He understands.

He answers.

do you know that?  do you feel that?

sometimes the answers to prayers are not what you would expect.  often they are not what you might anticipate.  but that doesn't make them less "good".

you see, God knows the whole story.  He weaves a tapestry that extends beyond our imagination.  He brings people in and lets them participate (through prayer or encouragement or observation) to His plan.  and then He reveals it and we are blessed with the opportunity of being a part of the story.

heather, my sister, married her mark this week.

mark (the Facebook contact and 4th grade first kiss) was reaching out to my sister.  he had been through his own story and felt like God was prompting him to make contact with heather.  it turns out that the two of them were a romance/love story made for the movies.  they were a match made and designed by the heavens and after years and years, get to have their happy ending.

it is difficult to write a conclusion here.  but from where i sit, i see a God that allowed me to pray.  He sought my heart and invited me into a painful story to watch how His redemption brings joy and happiness and new beginnings.

and i'm not saying that divorce brings happy endings.

but when God walks each day with you, when you surrender to His plan, restoration is possible.  love is to be expected and old things can be made new.

to my sister:  i adore you.  i have since i was a little girl and thought that you were the brightest, shiniest of stars.  you have never disappointed.


to my brent (my first brother-in-law):  you are a good man.  cleave yourself to Christ and you will find that emptiness brings fullness.

and to my newbie, mark:  be the man of God that you are, embrace the "trinity" of marriage and i am certain that both of you will have hearts full of smiles and peace.  life will have bumps and hurdles, but with God as your guide will always be worth the journey.  (from what i know about you, i am preaching to the choir here.) thank you for reaching out to her.  thank you for honoring the sanctity of marriage and i look forward to years and years of joy with you in our lives.  and thank you for choosing togetherness and God's plan for my max, maclane and willsie to join your Smith and Ella Mae on this journey with Christ.  i love you all already.

hugs.

smooches.

and may God write out His peaceful, happy, blessed beyond measure happy ending...

and to my Father:  thank you for using this personal story to demonstrate to me who You are.  in spite of the moments where i doubted You, You gave me conviction.  You have shown me patience.  You have shown me love.  You have shown me community and the value of stepping into someone else's life.  You have taught me that you are the master of timing and You have taught me that You are sovereign.  and above all else, You have given me a glimpse into the beautiful mystery of prayer.  my life is forever changed and i am filled with gratitude.

don't throw the baby out with the bathwater

this is a story that i should have written months and months and maybe even a year or so ago.  i didn't because it was too pain full.  time has passed and the burn has lessened a wee bit.  this one needs to go down in record books and so, here goes...

about two years ago, shortly after moving into buser abode (and organizing buser abode), my girls made an epic sized mess in their rooms.  it has happened to every mom.  more than once.  repeatedly, perhaps.

i naively thought they were getting along and being the "bestest of the sisters in world" while momma cooked dinner...  only to later discover that they were more likely the next contestant on "hoarders of the west coast".  i don't know what hurt my heart more...  the fact that they had tricked me into believing that they were rock star sisters or the fact that they had dumped out every single tidy bin in their combined three rooms.

the first time, i took one for the team.  momma sorted the bins and organized the books.  i categorized the barbies and the calico critters and polly's and the pet shops...  while saying evil things under my breath and swearing i would not, could not, ever do this again.  (if you are a mom of boys, just insert legos for that last clump of words.)

the second time it happened, i rallied the troops and made them join in on the sorting fun INSANITY.    it gave new meaning to "four score and seven years ago".  it took FOREVER.  days passed and we were still trying to tidy the mess.  momma was on edge and the girlies looked like they were about to break.  it was not good.  it was a scary time in the buser house and momma warned the team that we would not, could not, EVER do that again.

it lasted for about three days.

and then momma discovered the mess of all messes.  it was bigger and better and messier than mess one or mess two (or the millions of messes that came before those).  again, i had been tricked into thinking that quiet girlie time was equivalent to sisterly bonding and joyful NEAT play time together.

WRONG.

shame on me for allowing a few minutes of quiet play time morph into 30 minutes of momma getting something done around here finally....

as usual, i am off topic.

this third time, i decided the blood was on their hands.  momma was done.  finished.  kaput.  and so i gave them the evening and the next day to make all that they had aided in going askew, back to its rightful positioning.  pops was too young to play this little game, so momma cleaned up her 33% of the disaster.  e, recognizing that momma was not joking around, went to task and completed her 33%, but d, the less than tidy one of the bunch did not understand that this was SERIOUS.

she putzed and she shifted things in her room, but nothing got back to its rightful spot according to momma's labeled bins.  after the original allotted time, momma made a concession.

"d-bugs, you have until the end of the week.  every day you will clean your room until it is done.  you will not play with your sisters.  you will not watch tv.  you will not play alone.  you will finish what you started.  you will do what you have undone.  i mean it.  i'm not taking it back.  this isn't a joke."

(don't judge.  it is what i HAD to do.  i was not happy about it, but the motherhood is not always fair. this was one of those times.)

and so for the remainder of the week (a day or so), d was banished to her room and repeatedly charged with the task of getting it back in order.

until she didn't.

and the week ended.

rut-ro.  momma was in uncharted territory.  both sisters had heard my decree and my reputation was on the line.

"delaney, momma is taking away all of your toys."

(insert sobbing hysterics)

"you can earn them back.  i'm going to scoop up everything on your floor and if you have two weeks of a clean room at bedtime, i will return what i have scooped.  if not, it goes to the donation pile.  we'll give it to a kid who can handle this many cool and amazing toys."

...................................................................................................................................................................

we shall pause this story to insert that the hubs was at a meeting on the night that the big scoop up went down.  momma scooped up all the toys and placed them into a trash bag.  she placed the trash bag off to the side in the garage and announced to the hubs that he should ignore said bag because it contained all of the beloved toys that d-bugs could not muster the energy to put away...  in a weeks time.

...................................................................................................................................................................

upon the completion of two weeks, d had earned her bag of toys back.  she was missing all of her coveted treasures and she had gone to task in accomplishing the "clean room" assignment.  on day 15, i went to the garage to gather her treasures.

but what to my wondering eyes should NOT appear???

the trash bag.

gone.

missing.

hiding behind something else?  no.

hiding under the another pile of crap treasure we store in the garage?  no.

absent.

not to be found.

momma made a quick call to the hubs assuming that he had stashed it someplace safe.

wrong.

for the history books, i will report THAT was not a fun a phone call.  hubs immediately recognized his error and acknowledged that for shizzle he had thrown it away in spite of what i had told him.  he was in trash mode and didn't think twice.  thankfully, momma was in "gracious wife" mode when this call went down and realized that it was an honest mistake.

upon assessing the middle child's room, the hubs and i realized that we had given p-town's dump two american girl dolls (if you don't know what these means, google it.  this was a pricey mistake), many additional american girl doll accessories, pet shops, my little pony's, random riffraff, expensive hair bows, a shirt or two, possibly some unders,  a barbie or two and one of every single barbie shoe that all three girls collectively own, and a large number of books.

ouch.

and d had worked hard to earn them back.

again, uncharted momma territory.  it didn't seem right to punish the girl for an innocent mistake and so momma and daddy went to task in righting our wrong.  we gave her a target allowance to purchase new toys and we re-bought the american girl dolls (with one being a retired doll that we had to buy on e-bay for double the price).

but dare i say, it was a lesson learned.  my girls take me seriously when i tell them that their rooms need to be clean at bedtime and since the dreaded day, we have not needed to fill any trash bags with toys.  it was an expensive lesson.  one we will hear about and feel the pain of for years to come, but a lesson none the less.

(there is no bathwater in this story.  however, there were two babies.)

gigi

suburban momma is not quite herself.  the past few weeks have been an out of body experience where my body is going through the motions of life but my mind is in a different place.

my mind is playing a looping movie of memories with my grandmother (and grandfather).  the matriarch of my family has played a role in my life that i don't have words to describe.  she has been love.  she has been constant.  she has been always involved and always present.  she has always shown up for me (and all of my family members) all of the time.

my first memory of her isn't even really mine- it is one i don't recall but have always been told- when my dad got the news that my mother was having a stroke at 8 months pregnant with little old me, my grandparents dropped everything and got in the car to be by my father's side.  they stayed there with him and were there for my birth and through the months that followed (in spite of health interruptions from my grandfather).  i don't remember it as i was days old, but it is what i have always been told.  i do, however,  remember that for the rest of my life, they never did anything less.  my grandparents have ALWAYS shown up in my life.  they didn't miss a beat.  they didn't need an invitation.  they just came and pressed into my life in the most special and loving of ways.

in my senior year of college i lost my grandfather.

once again, my grandmother didn't skip a beat.  while she was without her sidekick, she continued to do what she had always done- with a smile on her face and joy in her heart.  she just kept on keeping on- being the most amazing woman that she could be.

i could write a book about my memories of my grandparents.  but words would never do them justice.  but what stands out even louder than my memories of the two of them is my memory and history with HER.  my grandmother is amazing.

what do you tell about someone that is this wonderful?

there are too many ways in which she has carved out a definition of what an amazing person is in my mind.  but if i had to narrow it to just one thing- if you forced me to pick one attribute that makes her stand out from the crowd- it would be her grace.

grace is an odd thing- it is getting what you don't really deserve, by no merit of your own because of the sacrifice from someone else.  and this has always been her- she generously gives you her whole heart- all of her love- all of her thoughts- all of her giggles and opinions while never showing you a moment of disrespect.

no matter where you are she just spills this out into your life- love, respect, kindness- grace displayed through the flesh of a human.

a few months prior to moving to calli, the browning family line made a trip to niagara falls to celebrate my grammie turning 90.  it was one of the most precious trips of my life.  all of her children, grandchildren and most of the great grandchildren attended.  we toured the city, shared memories, made toasts, laughed together, cried together and spent the weekend honoring my grandmother.  in reality, she honored all of us...  again.

i remember leaving that weekend, saying goodbye to my beloved grandmother, with the reality that this could be my last time seeing her.  it wasn't that she was sick, but i was moving across the country and she was getting very "on" in her years.  it made my heart almost break to walk out of that lobby with those thoughts in my mind, but i also didn't want to take any moment or any breath for granted.

we get moments in life- and we either realize them and live them to their fullest or we neglect to notice the gift.  from that moment onward, i have always wanted to realize the gift that is my grandmother.

that trip to niagara falls was not, in fact, my last time seeing my grammie.  i got to see her many times since then over the last 4 years and each time has been a personal treasure- a bonus gift of her grace.  and each time i have been blessed with time with grammie, i have also been overcome by the other gifts that she doesn't even know she has given me.  i have been gifted with a family that in spite of its issues (let's be honest- every family has them) is pure love in my life.  my aunties who carry on my grandmother's skill of pressing in, cousins who i share a connection with where we can just pick up right where we left off in spite of our infrequent visits together, a father who has shown what it means to honor your parents with every breath, siblings who i adore...  these are the legacies of this woman. her life's priority of "family" is a continual blessing in ways i can't fully describe.

two years ago my grandmother made the trip to california to visit my family and our new home.  she traveled with my dad and went to great lengths to see my life- we went to taste cheese at cowgirl creamery and explored a beach in marin.  she treated the littles and i to a pedicure and explored main street of p-town.  these memories are precious and priceless.  i knew it at the time and have savored them ever since then.  it's odd though...  i think this might be the greatest memory that i will cling to of her...  i can feel her in my home.  i can see her eating lunch in the garden at handles gastrobup, i can feel her basking in the sun on my front porch, she is present in my day to day life because she made the effort to be here.

and i think that is what life is all about...  while we can't all emulate her grace or her kindness (we can try but she is a true natural), we all can choose to press in.  every day gives us choices.  we can choose to serve ourselves or we can choose to be love and light in the lives of those around us.  she always chose love and light- going the extra mile to make those in her world feel loved, cherished, honored... special.

my grandmother is in hospice care right now experiencing her final days.  and while i know that i shouldn't be surprised by this, she is sharing her grace and her laughter with those by her side.  she is true to her life's character and even in the very end, she is the epitome of class.

i miss her already but have not missed the gift of her.

rain drops on roses and whiskers on kittens

 these are a few of my favorite things from 2013…

beach days.  this is just one snap of many amazing days on various beaches that we have visited this year.  my heart is at its fullest when i can feel the ocean breeze and hear the sounds of the water.  i think my girls are a lot like their momma in this way as they tend to be at their best when frolicking in the water or building in the sand.

beginning an adventure with native gardening.  i know that sounds odd to make my "favorites of 2013" list, but it really is.  i started out knowing absolutely nothing.  nada.  zilch.  and slowly, i am beginning to know a tiny bit more.  i have enjoyed taking on this new territory of learning and enjoyed the process (with some wins and some losses) of starting to tend to the earth.  it makes me smile when i enter and exit our home and i look forward to continuing in this process.

watching d flourish in preschool and "graduate" to kindy.  she had an amazing year last year- in every way!  her friends at SLP were top notch, her teacher was one in a million and the learning that took place will hopefully stick with her for years to come as she walks forward in a relationship with God.  it's hard to believe that i now have two girlies in big-kid school!

these ladies- for so much more than a paragraph can explain.  love your girlies to the moon and back.

hiking with dad- the beach- a lighthouse- family adventures…  this picture is one of my favorites because it reminds me of so many good times with these crazies over the past year.  i love getting in the car and taking in a new scene.  love.  love.  love.

adventures with this girlie and a special day in pescadero- cheese, wine, coffee mugs, almost running out of gas (shhh- don't tell the hubs!) and being almost eaten by a goat.

family vacation in san diego.  love.  love.  love.  we've never been a vacation repeat kinda family- but this year we were.  and it was glorious.  i loved so many things about it!  and this guy- he's my gibraltar.

bethany hamilton and this 4th grade girlie….  enough said.

two snaps- one event…  a co-hosted favorite things party in my backyard.  planning, painting, crafting, cooking and then enjoying a backyard filled with some of the most wonderful ladies in pleasanton.  this was one of my favorite things from 2013.

running the golden gate bridge and a ten mile race.  i never knew i wanted to (it was NOT my idea), i never thought i could…  and doing it and meeting new people and enjoying the beauty of this place…  and did i say being able to run ten miles and never even thinking i had that in me and wanting to do it again when i was all finished because it was that exhilarating!

chicago with this crazy clan to celebrate my favorite laura and her nuptials.  we had the week of our lives- great time with great friends, yummy food, fabulous sights, relaxation, and a complete realization that we are right where we belong- in spite of how much i miss where we were.

celebrating this girl- a late night out, dancing, limos and the gift of friendship from someone who is an indescribable human and "auntie" to my girls.  she is awesome (and old…  giggle). blessed.  beyond.  measure.

happy new year!

i heard it through the grapevine

once upon a time, our bedtime routine sometimes looked like this.  i still giggle when i watch that video clip.

we haven't done it in quite some time.  a new tempurpedic mattress has sort of made the dancing less fun- no bounce and it feels a bit more like mud.

but it hasn't changed the buser family love for a broad range in musical exposure.  my girls like them all sorts of tunes- from bob marley to taylor swiss (as poppy's likes to say)- they like it all.  they pretend to have disdain for some of daddy's favorite tunes (i.e.. a few little ditties by pink floyd) and they aren't allowed to listen to all of the lyrics to some of momma's favorites…  which will go unmentioned since i am, after all, the author of this story.

last year for christmas, my d wanted a clock radio with a cd player built in.  in the spirit of giving her access to good tunes, i was all over this request.  one hello kitty alarm clock radio, coming right up!  yes, please.

when daddy got wind of this item being purchased he went to town.  apparently they had recently been on a beatles kick during saturday morning daddy/daughter time.  and so in the spirit of helping her pursue her interests, he made her a "mix tape" compilation of his favorite beatles tunes.  as momma filled the stockings on christmas eve, he came along and tucked his little gift to her into her sock.

she was delighted with the cd and even more delighted with the hello kitty alarm clock/cd player.  for the better part of the last year, she could be found drifting off to sleepy land listening to this compilation.  she fell in love with the beatles and she fell even more in love with her daddy.  i could see it in her eyes.  she loved that she had found a special way to connect with just him and that he had made her such a special gift.

this year, a few days before christmas, scott and i were discussing the things that remained to be done for christmas preparations.  scott mentioned, "and i have to make delaney a cd."

i paused.

"what do you mean, babe?"

"well, i need to download some new songs and make delaney another mix.  i'm thinking that i'm going to go with motown this year."

and so he did.

just like last year, he brought me the cd as i was filling the stockings and slipped into the top.  and tonight, my d is drifting off into neverland listening to the likes of marvin gaye, diana ross and the four tops.

and this momma is smiling at their adorable bond and a daddy who knows the way to show love to each of his girls…  including me.

hope (delivered)… 3/3

as i settle into this christmas eve, my heart is full.  i have three thriving babes- all with very different stories and experiences that helped to write hope for me on my heart.  i sit next to my sweet hubs and i get flutter belly (an expression i steal from my sister) thinking of how he built hope into me.  i look at cards of friends from my past and friends from my present…  experiencing and anticipating joy.  and it clicks for me…  hope builds and crescendos into joy…  even when it doesn't look the way that we expected.

as i have said, the birth of d got me feeling very connected to mary and thinking about mary and analyzing mary.

i have to imagine that a young girl who experienced a visit from an angel giving her the news that she was carry the son of man to term in her belly was a little…  hmmm…  what's the word?  terrified perplexed confused contemplating a visit to the loony bin…  hopeful?  i don't know if that is the word i would use, actually.  i mean, i imagine that as she experienced the telling of the news, she was joyful and felt very chosen…  but then i imagine that there were moments when she realized the full monty of the news that she didn't always want to be the chosen one to be the virgin mother of God.  as she felt the baby growing in her belly and she knew that she had not been with joseph, she must have felt hope and founds rest in the fact that she wasn't hallucinating an angel visit.  but i also imagine that when she was going to the well to draw water and the ladies were talking quietly so she couldn't hear, she didn't feel as strong or as confident.  the bible does not tell us this…  it is simply me speculating.  the bible actually gives us great indication that she was at complete peace and experienced "it is well with my soul" over the whole thing.

and while don't know much else about the journey of mary, we do know that joseph chose to still marry her.  it speaks to me of her character- joseph trusted her and was willing to tarnish his own reputation, going out on a public limb, acknowledging that he believed her and had an equally strong faith in God's revelation- that she was going to give birth to the Christ child.

my human mind tends to project.  and in doing so, i imagine that much of her pregnancy was a lot of internal convincing that it was all going to be ok.  i imagine that she had a lot of unknowns that she was anticipating the answers to…  aside from the birth experience itself, i imagine she wondered a lot what mothering THIS baby would look like.  i mean, no one had gone before her.  she was watching this unfold with no role model and no map- just her, joseph and God.  that must have taken an incredible amount of trust.

and then i imagine that as mary discovered that there was no place to birth her baby, she might have become frustrated (although there is no biblical pointing to this.  again, just me human projecting here)- "this isn't what i expected!  i'm birthing the Son of God, people!  clear me a room!" but that isn't in the retelling.  and it sort of leads me to believe that mary was just incredibly peaceful- in full surrender of the details.

i also think about her birthing the baby, holding him new in her arms, and feeling a heart full of love for her son.  but then i wonder where her mind went…  she didn't have any realization or affirmation that He was THE BABY that God had told her she would birth.  i wonder if she felt doubt in those first few minutes.  i also wonder if she became overcome with uncertainty- this is my boy now…  how can He be the Christ Child?  what will His life look like?  will He live with me for long?  what plans does God have in store for Him?  for surely, the full knowing that this was a virginal birth (as mary had) instilled complete belief in the fact that this WAS from God.

and then the angel appeared and the star directed the footsteps of people from all over to witness the shear sight of this baby…  and i imagine that mary's hope eclipsed with each gift, with each visitor…  experiencing delivered hope…  in her heart and in her arms.  and i imagine that THAT was enough to settle the questions…

and give her a complete posture of surrender to the plans of a God who can deliver a baby who is also God- through a virginal birth.

you see, hope wasn't about sitting back and wishing for something.  that's OUR definition of hope.  the real definition of hope is placing your plans aside, and letting God direct your path.  it is a full surrender with the CONFIDENCE that He knows what He is doing and that He longs for good for you, me…  the world.  we mess it up a great deal and get in the way, but hope always prevails.  and hope is also about a CONFIDENCE that after this life, heaven- a perfect utopia awaits us.  hope is KNOWING that Jesus will show up.  it is resting in the truth that He is who He said He was- that a baby could also be a king.  it is knowing that we don't have to know it all yet, but that God does.  and it is sitting back and placing our trust in Him and in that.

as you walk through christmas, remember that the virginal birth from "just a girl" named mary, is the beginning of hope entering the world.  33 years later, through that baby, hope was delivered on a cross.  it was messy and political and painful for a momma to watch- not exactly what she had in mind- but necessary.

my christmas wish for each of you this year is hope.  i pray that you find it, experience it and dwell in hope.  hope that God is for you- and that as you walk in this hope you will see it to be true with each step you take.  life might hold challenges and  have huge obstacles to overcome, but it is filled with hope- a promise that will be revealed much bigger than just fingers crossed- but a true resting in the unknown that  God will prevail and that it will come to pass.  and as you experience hope- in each day- you will find joy.  you see, it is hard not to find it even in the most difficult of things, when you are resting in Him and hope and a future that has been promised.

and it all started with a baby.  something so innocent and pure and dependent.  it's funny how God unfolded that plan.  He doesn't NEED us…  we need Him.  and yet, His plan for redemption, hope and joy came through a very dependent baby.  it speaks to me about His desire for us to be in relationship with Him, to be a part of the story instead of just a witness looking in from the distance.

merry Christmas!

hope (delivered)… part 2/3

if you are just tuning in, you might want to catch up here.

ok.  now on to part deux.

as per my usual, there is some history…

i marched into my first pregnancy a tightly wound, type A, read every book, interview three pediatricians, slightly obsessive, totally over the top…  "that mom", as i prepared for my e.  as i mentioned in part one, the expectations i had for that birth didn't really come to fruition…  and neither did most of my other expectations concerning motherhood.  i had a very clear visual of what i thought that motherhood and caring for a newborn was supposed to look like and when my charming e by day turned into non-stop colic baby by night i was a fish out of water.  breastfeeding was a disaster.  my formerly organized and always tidy house turned into piles of laundry, incomplete projects lying all over the place and unfinished "to do" lists littering my head.  and then postpartum depression began to rock my world.  as far as i understand postpartum issues, mine was a somewhat mild case but year one of e's life will forever be marked in my mind as a mental state of sadness.  e was beautiful and adventurous and joyful.  she checked all the milestone boxes early and i was smitten with her…  but there was this other part of my brain that couldn't shake sadness.  the funniest part of the whole thing was that all of the books i had addressed these issues-

colic…  good luck.
breastfeeding issues…  call a lactation specialist.
depression… call the doctor.

basically, after consulting the books over and over and visiting with the various specialists i realized that the the only conclusion was…  i was screwed.  not much was going to help with this all star line-up of symptoms.  and hopelessness started to creep its ugly way into my head.

as i marched through my third pregnancy, i tried to process how i was going to get through that first year.  when e blew out her candles on that first birthday cake, it was like a switch went on and the cloud of depression lifted and i felt joyful, happy and peaceful again…  but it was a whole year later.  i couldn't even begin to imagine living in that hopeless place once again.  i knew i couldn't do that for another year…  but did i have a choice in the matter?  reading books and obsessing had not worked out well in pregnancy one, so i knew i had to try another avenue.

and the only avenue i could think of was to pray.  i had to invite Jesus into this ordeal- i didn't want Him to just sustain me during the darkness of depression (although i knew He could), i wanted to be bold and ask Him to keep the cloud away.  i wanted joy.

and so i rallied some praying mommas, i recruited my sister, and i daily got down on my knees (figuratively people- i was a big ol' preggers momma…  there was no kneeling for me) and asked God to give me a different experience this time.  i had been so angry with my body for not performing in my birth experience with e and i had felt like i had failed at childbirth and failed at sustenance and i just didn't want to live under that cloud anymore.  i realized it wasn't true- a c-section or lactation issues are not failures.  let's make that clear for a moment- those things do not make a momma a failure- but the depression plays tricks on the mind and no matter how i tried to look back on my first year with e, i could not get that cloud to lift.

this time, i got real with God and i laid it all out there.  and as i let it fall to His feet and be lifted to His ears, i began to heal.  my prayers turned to confession and i handed over my controlling nature and my need for expectations to be met and my "i got this covered" posture.

"yes, God!  forgive me! i don't have ANYTHING covered.  it is true that i CAN do all of this alone.  but really, it left me feeling empty and alone and so very sad.  come in!   come into this experience with me.  be in my birth story.  be in the faces of the nurses and the midwife.  be in the lactation and the sleep and the sleepless nights and the whole darn gig.  don't leave me alone.  be in the darkest corners with me and help me navigate this path."  and as i prayed these things, as my mind digested all of this- i felt the fear lift from me and once again found hope taking up residence in my soul.

the day after christmas, i went into true labor.  the snow was falling against the black of the night and i could barely tolerate the turns and bumps in the road.  and as we traveled i just kept thinking about mary.  how terrified she must have been!

we arrived at the hospital and less than an hour later i held my new (yet to be named) baby in my arms. she had come fast and the drugless pregnancy that i had hoped for had come to pass.

we had her in a birthing center and after the birth experience was over they swaddled her up and tucked scott and i into a big queen size bed, placing new babe in between us.  and within minutes we were all sound asleep.  i remember the nurse gently tapping me on the shoulder several hours later and telling me she needed to check my vitals but that she didn't want to stir the baby.

i was so groggy and confused.  stir the baby?  is she breathing?  what time is it?  how have i possibly been asleep for several hours?  and this moment marked a new beginning.

for the next few days, weeks, and then eventually months i marched into motherhood wearing a new badge.  sleep went well, feeding went well and the cloud of sadness did not take up residence in my head.  life was not utopia- we had a new baby in the house, people- but it was joyful and manageable and it allowed me space to savor those newborn moments while finding joy in the helping hands of big sister.  it was a beautiful time.

i realized that hope is about so much more than just "fingers crossed" or "wishing for the best"- it is about surrender and expectations, confession and forgiveness and most importantly, anticipation.  and hope is not singular- it isn't something that you can walk through alone.  hope is also relational.

and as i lived in those moments, i remember pausing often to give thanks.  i was cognizant of the fact that but for me, this would not have been possible.  however, it was clear that God was using each day, each smile, each answered prayer to teach me this deeper understanding of hope.

for me, hope had been delivered.

part 3/3 to come…  stay tuned.

hope (part 1)

this post is layered.  i will just warn you now.

six years ago this christmas eve, a momma was expecting her third babe.

babe one was a relatively new three year old, filled with anticipation for chirstmas.  babe two was a resident of heaven, taken before birth at the beginning of the second trimester, somewhat unexpectedly. and babe three was thriving in her momma's womb, after several months of bed rest, ready to meet the outside world.

due on christmas.

a little bit of back story, my first birth did not go as planned.  i had anticipated a natural delivery.  even more than anticipated, i had longed for a natural delivery.  things didn't go the way i had written them out for my doctor in my birth plan.  while i was able to avoid a c-section, my sweet e did not come without a challenging birth story.  three hours of pushing, an epideral, and a very confusing labor experience produced my first baby.  regardless of the details, she was a true gift.

my second pregnancy had been very planned.  we decided to give baby two a go and got pregnant right away.  and i thanked God for giving us the desire of our hearts.  i marched into the pregnancy with hope and anticipation.  and then just a very short few weeks later, began to bleed.  as any pregnant woman might, i began to loose hope.  would this baby make it?  we went to countless doctors visits, had countless blood draws to test the levels and then heard the heartbeat that we had been so longing to hear.  we breathed a sigh of relief.  the heartbeat was the true test, right?

and slowly with baited breath we marched into week twelve.  as i passed the mark, we exhaled.

prematurely.

a few days into week thirteen my midwife suggested we have a 3d ultrasound.  my levels weren't in a place that left her comfortable and she wanted to get a better picture of what might be going on.  knowing i had prayed for this baby, knowing that we had passed the "danger zone", i walked into the ultrasound nievely.  i thought we were good as gold.

just moments into the ultrasound, with scott holding my hand and ellie in the stroller behind him, we learned that baby two no longer had a heartbeat.  there were all sorts of physical complications and the baby just didn't make it.  and i lay on the table silently weeping, trying to wrap my head around the fact that this baby was not to be.

we went home to see if my body would pass the remains naturally.

those two weeks of waiting are frozen in my mind.  i was showing just enough that i decided i could not leave the house for fear of having to explain my situation.  i made the choice to wait it out in the safety and privacy of my home, telling a few close friends that i would be fine but that we were going into "isolation" for a bit.

and for a brief moment, i felt like all hope was lost.

i remember trying to settle into that and situate myself in that and find rest in that simple fact.  but i could not.  hope lives within me.  and minute by minute i felt it rise up and force its way to the front of my cerebellum and burst within my heart.

yes, i was sitting with a stillborn baby that i had imagined holding in my arms, but somehow all i could feel was hope.  and i remember turning to God and saying something to the effect of, "how is there hope in this?"

and God, through the arms and feet of man, ministered hope to my soul.  in those two weeks, people pressed in.  they didn't share trite "christian speak" empty and trite words.  they told me it sucked.  they told me they were sorry.  they brought dinners.  they brought chocolate.  they hugged me and let me cry.  they looked me in the eye and they did not leave me alone.  

and as i felt all of this, the ever so heavy weight of this, i clung to my bible.  it's funny how that happens.  when we are in despair, we need a savior.  and so in those moments, we cling to Him.

and in this clinging, i grabbed hold of verses.  i printed them out on cards and read them day and night. i wrote them on my heart and as i thought of my suffering and compared it to the suffering of Jesus on the cross, i felt lighter.  and through each day of waiting for my baby to pass i felt hope.

shortly after this ordeal, i found myself to be very unexpectedly pregnant once again.

pregnancy three.  was i ready for this?

when i think back on it all, i can't recall how i felt.  i imagine that i felt fear, but quite honestly i don't remember feeling that way.  the memory that permeates my mind is the feeling of hope.  i'm sure i was nervous in those first few weeks, but everything looked good and it was a very healthy pregnancy.

until it wasn't.

i was walking down the snowy sidewalk of oak brook mall with my e at my side, bursting with baby in my abdomen, and felt these terrible pains.  i tried to ignore it.  i tried to rationalize it.  i tried to pretend that my mind was simply magnifying it…  until i realized this was not a good plan.  and then i marched myself into out of the snowy outdoor shopping mall and drove myself to my midwife's office.  and there i was sent to labor and delivery- not to deliver the baby, but to monitored for a period of time because things did not look great.

i remember meeting scott at the hospital door and handing over e, only to have to march into the l&d unit alone.  fear tried to grip me, and labor pains rippled through my body.  and i remember this odd moment where it all flooded across my mind and i realized i had a choice.  the bible verses that had been my mantra from my miscarriage swirled through my mind.  i could let myself be overcome by fear and hopelessness…  or i could choose hope.

you see, hopelessness, to me, suggests that there isn't much to live for.  and i knew that was just not my truth!  i have lots to live for- i had my scott and my e, my momma, my daddy,  sisters who i adore a brother who was (at the time) fighting overseas in the military, good friends, and a true belief that heaven is real and that Jesus is who He said He was- the son of God sent to redeem the earth and bring life to man.

i chose hope.

i spent a few hours under observation, contracting a significant amount, but showing no signs of labor progress.  and so they sent me home- on bed rest.  with a three year old.  to wait out my remaining six weeks of pregnancy.

good times.

and then i found myself at the eleven o'clock service at our quaint little church in western springs, hearing the story of christmas six weeks later.  my abdomen was contracting and i was on the eve of my due date.  i had made it to the mark we had hoped for, i had exceeded that date, and was holding a candle and singing "o holy night" anticipating the birth of my baby.  just like mary.

that christmas eve will go down in the history books as the most "holy of nights" for me.  my mind eclipsed and i was able to relate to mary in a way that i am not sure i ever could have without my exact circumstances.  i imagined how she must have felt slightly crazy being with babe but never having been with joseph.  i imagined how her mind tried to wrap itself around her encounter with Jesus and the declaration that she was to give birth to the son of man.  what does that even look like as you unravel it in your mind.  i imagine she felt a tiny bit loco.

i imagined how she must have been terrified as she got the news that they had to travel that far when she was that close to giving birth.  i imagined how her body must have ached as she rode into town looking for a place to stay- i even imagined her trying to decide if she should tell joseph just how urgent it was to get a place for the night or if she tried to hold back because she realized he was already under great stress.  and an epideral wasn't a choice for her.  what had she heard about childbirth?  was she terrified about the experience itself?  and what happens when the son of man pops out?  is it like a regular baby?  what will He be like?

and while i am sure that anxiety tried to take over, the story sort of looks like peace prevails.

i held my candle with one hand, and wrapped my arm around my e with the other (who was standing on the pew) and my eyes brimmed with tears.  i was not sad.

i was filled with hope.  hope for my family as we anticipated the arrival of this new little girl who had made it to the finish line and hope for the world who gets to mark the anniversary of the birth of mary's baby boy- the Son of God.

the sisterhood of the traveling pie

when i was a child living with my momma, she went big on birthdays.  it wasn't so much in the gifting (although i do remember getting some pretty stellar gifts), but more in the way that she made you feel special.  it was YOUR day and she took special care to carve that out.  the rest of the year she was all business, but she knew how to "special" you on your birth anniversary and make you feel like the world was a better place because you were born.

every year, on my birthday, my momma made me lemon meringue pie.  year after year she would ask what i wanted and year after year i would request that yummy pie.  it's an odd choice for a child, i'll admit, but i loved it in every way.  my momma never said a word about it and just went to the task of making the crust, the filling and whipping that meringue.  she did it with a smile on her face.

it wasn't until years later that i realized that lemon meringue pie is no small undertaking.  in fact, it is (for this non-baker) on the labor intensive side.  

somewhere in the courtship phase, scott and i discussed birthdays from the past.  we shared stories of our favorite memories and what the celebrations of various years looked like...  the best birthday, the worst birthday, the funniest, and the traditions that went along with them.  scott secretly took notes.  i don't know that for sure, but based on the various ways he has celebrated me throughout the years, i am  betting that there is a secret notebook somewhere with how to get it right.

i say this because he goes out of his way to get it right.  year after year, he surprises me with something that i didn't even know i wanted or something that i have been wanting forever…  he is an amazing gift giver.  he pays attention to me and he knows me well…  sometimes it even feels like he knows me better than i know myself.

and every year, since the year we wed, scott has made me pie.  this is how i learned what a pain in the tush it is to make the lemon meringue pie.  i have watched him for eleven years perfect the pie.  in year one, the filling didn't set correctly.  in year two he wasn't happy with his crust (again…  non-baker over here…  i'll take whatever you give me).  in year three the meringue was too sticky.  year five we had a new oven and he had to go back to the drawing board.  about three years ago, he perfected the pie.  it was amazeballs!  

i told him that he could retire the pie tradition.  i felt uncomfortable having him go to such great lengths to celebrate me.  he works hard.  we have three kids.  life itself is busy.  he didn't need to continue adding "make lemon meringue pie" to his list of things to do.  

but because he is who is, he would not give it up.  he claimed to like making my pie each year (in spite of the fact that the entire casa buser except little old me despises lemon pie).  and so he continued.  

this year, i had absolutely no expectation for pie.  we were headed off the chi-town for my b-day and i just assumed that there would be no pie.  in fact, i didn't even think about it…  until the weekend before we left i came home from running errands to pie remnants of pie dough in the sink.  could he possibly be making my birthday pie?

yes!  yes, he was.  and so the sunday before our trip (about a week before my actual birthday) scott surprised me with a family birthday celebration.  the kids had each selected a gift for momma, they took me out to dinner and they lit the candles in my eleventh scott-made birthday pie.  it was amazing.  what made it even more special was the fact that for the first year ever our lemon tree had ripened in time for the making of the pie.  usually, the tree ripens in the first week of december, but this year, my birthday pie was made with meyers grown in the buser orchard (if you can call one tree in the backyard an orchard…).

the predicament arose the next morning.  after the birthday celebration, the buser posse was headed out of town and there was half a pan of pie in the ice box.  momma could not let daddy's efforts go into the trash bin.  what to do…  what to do?

i sent a quick message to my gal pals telling them that someone had to swing by and grab the pie.  it could not go to waste.  it was too yummy and too much love had been poured into it.   i was leaving it on the porch and someone MUST grab it.  dawn heard the call and responded.  she was in for a piece.  i insisted she take the whole (half remaining) pie.  i could not have a pie on my porch for a week.  take it, girl!  and so dawn grabbed the pie.

several hours later, there were more responses for pie.  i giggled when i listened to my messages in chicago to discover that the pie had traveled the town.  dawn grabbed the pie and passed it off to amy.  amy ate her slice in a parking lot with a plastic fork from the grocery store because she couldn't wait.  

shanon and katie both ran neck and neck for the last chunk of pie.  shanon almost got it but katie was able to get to the pie sooner.  and katie finished it off (on a week with the hubs out of town- hands down, she needed pie!) with her three little ladies and one fork.

it was the flat-stanley of pies!  it was the sisterhood of the traveling pants pie!  we all giggled about the pie and celebrated the various hand-offs.  and miles away in chicago, i smiled.  i love these girlies and their respect for my hub's pie made me happy.

but why does suburban momma write about pie?  this is a blog for the girlies, after all.

and here is why…

to my girlies (and anyone else who might need this tip),

marry a man who will make you pie.  it doesn't actually have to be pie.  it's a metaphor, really.  

what i am actually saying is this: when you choose the man who you will do life with, make sure he is the kind of man that will notice you.  make sure he will care enough about you to want to know your life stories and that he will go to lengths to remember them and act on them as he loves you.  marriage is a whole lot of hard.  it is compromise and negotiations.  it is the meshing of two different backgrounds, life stories, goals, dreams, visions of the future.  there will be rough patches and moments when you want to call a time out.  but if you choose the man who loves you well, respects your past, honors your values, finds ways to make you feel treasured…  and makes you pie even when he hates pie and has to work hard to pull it off…  that is a man who will make the journey an amazing ride.  and when he messes up from time to time (because he most certainly will), remember all the "pies" he has made you.  your treasure trove of "times he rocked it" will be huge and you can draw on those moments when he isn't hitting it out of the park and is batting zero to remind you of who he really is.  

and as for you…  be the wife that makes the "pie".  everything i have just told you about your dad- be that for your husband.  work hard to find the things that bring him joy and plant those things in your life.  it is hard, as i mentioned before.  there will be days when you don't want to work hard and days when you have little left to give.  dig deep.  find ways to be the "pie giver" whenever you can.  and don't grumble while you're doing it.  do it with joy and a heart of love.  i swear, it makes the pie taste all the better.

love,

momma

making memories

these pictures were taken many moons ago. 

i had just recently moved to atlanta to start my adult life.  random circumstances coincided and i found myself living in the same city as my best friend from high school, my big sister from my college sorority and a few other great friends both new and old.  it felt a little bit like melrose place…  in a very good way.  for our first thanksgiving as adults, we found ourselves unable to go home for that first holiday.  salaries didn't permit travel and days off were few.  and so we chose to spend the day together cooking the bird and enjoying the company of great friends.  

i remember the day well.  it was sunny and seventy degrees.  for this northern girl, it felt like heaven.  before the feast we played football at a nearby park and then divided the tasks necessary to make the feast.  erin made the turkey and i made rolls from scratch for the first time.  at the time, i knew very little about cooking and i remember marveling when the dinner turned out to be fantastic.  

it was a good day and as i remember it, i think about how fun it was to be surrounded by such great people.  i remember feeling grown up and very independent.  while i missed my family and the traditions that thanksgiving held for me, i liked carving a new way in the world.  the memories are special.

i didn't know it at the time, but just a few short months later i would meet my scott.  and my life would take another turn down a new and exciting path.  

i thought about that a lot today.  scott and i took the girls on a "hike" in the warm sun and enjoyed a day very similar to that one years ago.  the sun kissed my face and i celebrated how my life has turned out.  i have much to be thankful for!  

many years and three delicious daughters later, scott and i have created a life that gives us many smiles. thanksgivings are different than when i was a girl, surrounded by houses filled with extended family members, but while very different they are still very good.

and so, as i cooked today, i thought about the many things that i have to be thankful for.  my list is long…

a husband that takes amazing care of me, three healthy and happy little monkeys that make our house noisy and messy and filled with laughter and love, friendships that support me in ways i didn't even know i needed, a God who is ALIVE and real and ever so present, daily doses of sunshine, a community that just keeps getting better and better by the minute, a place to lay our heads and call home,…  the list is a lot longer than that and i'll admit, just writing those things above feels a tiny bit generic.  but each one is ever so true to my heart.

and while we cooked dinner, the girlies engaged in a thanksgiving activity of their own...

they each made thankful turkeys (idea and supplies provided by my adorable, loving, kind, thoughtful babysitter…  another person on my list of peeps i adore and am thankful for)!

watching them create their turkeys and generate their list brought me smiles.  as a mom, i hope that my girls realize HOW MUCH we have to be thankful for.  i hope they understand that while this life is their norm, it isn't the norm in much of the world.  today, i got a glimpse into their gratitude and i will say, i was a proud momma.  i like what they thought of and how they chose to express their own gratitude.

and getting the girls to take a post-feast picture of momma and dad was a sight to be seen.  this was the best we got.  giggle.  while it might not suggest that anyone in casa buser has "photographer" in their career path, it sure does capture the laughter that ensued.

 and as i reflected on both past and present, i was overcome by the fact that we are now making memories for them.  our girls will go on to celebrate this day in ways different from how we celebrate now, but they will always tap into that brain center that tells them what it felt like in the past.  my hope is that the sun on their face in the future will remind them of hiking with mom and dad.  as they sit around their own family table, i hope they will remember the conversations and intentionality we shared of verbalizing our gratitude.  and i can only hope and pray that their lives will be filled with deep caring love like i have found in my scott and deep belly laughs like i get to experience with all of them every day.

happy thanksgiving!