Harvest...

This is us.  A farm family half way through wheat harvest.  A long harvest.  A hard harvest.  In September my husband drilled wheat into dry ground.  We planted in the dust with prayers for rain.  No other options because this is what we do.  100% of our income is from agriculture, from this farm.

And the snows never really came.

This is a drought year, and not the first. The US Department of Agriculture puts us in extreme to exceptional drought conditions.  That means there is no moisture in the soil, not even really down deep, to grow plants.  We are totally dependent on rainfall and folks, what we've had isn't cutting it.  Low wheat yields, the millet's not doing well, and unless timely rains come corn harvest will be poor.  Y'all if this was the 20's it would be a dust bowl.  It's a testament to how responsible farmers are and how far soil conservation has come that its not.

And how do you raise kids with this weight on your shoulders.  How do we hide that we're worried?  Or are we just honest?  I don't know.  There's no parenting books for it.  Luke and I just are honest, and we ask them to pray.  They know it's dry.  And we smile and we laugh and we celebrate because at least there is a harvest.  It could be so much worse, and for farms far south of here it is.  Also, let's be honest.  Our life is pretty good.  There's just that niggly little thought in the back of your head, "how many dry years can we take"?

Still, harvest rolls on.  8 more quarters, or about 1200 acres left to cut.  And then we'll be done with this dry year.  Just millet and corn left.  And hopefully some good rains. I always tell Luke, next year we'll have so much wheat the bins will bust.  It's my job, to keep being optimistic.  And to pour the whiskey. 

Crazy...

The world seems that way lately.  The Treyvon thing, the 51st state movement (which I am down with by the way, I love Colorado but I disagree with so much of what they have done here lately), crazy.  Repbulicans and Democrats don't just disagree but flat out hate each other.  People profess to be Christian but spew hate and somehow being a Christian is considered close minded and bad...  The world is on a decline.  And I honestly feel I'm probably too white, too middle class, too middle America to weigh in.  It's like there's always someone out there more ethnic than me so they understand better, they've traveled, done more, they're more worldly.

And then me.  An Irish/Italian girl from Colorado who went to college, married a farmer and is raising children, and loves Jesus.  I'm a stay at home mom for gosh sakes.  I know about laundry detergent and Pinterest.  I'll admit, I live in a bit of a bubble.  I got nothin'.  Except I'm over it.

I'm over the news.
Over the hate.
Over the people who tear everyone else down.
I'm over the name calling, the trash talking.
Over the arguing, the fighting.
Over the black, white, polka dot.
I'm over the drought, the low yeilds, the high food prices.
Over the Monsanto thing.

In just skimming an article (not the one I linked) about the 51st state movement in Colorado we were referred to as hicks in these rural counties.  Really?  Have you ever met a farmer?  We're wearing designer jeans and driving SUV's you can't afford.  And living in nicer houses than you too if we want to get down to brass tacks.  But we're rural, so we're hicks.  And if I'm for self defense I'm a racist, and if I'm pro-life I'm a closed minded person wanting to push women back 100 years.   It's awful.

I don't get it.  It makes me sad.  I try very hard not to pass judgment on others.  I love me some Jewish people.  Some Democrats.  Some *gasp* city dwellers.  Some Hispanics and African Americans.  Actually, I really love those Hispanics.  Those people know how to LIVE.  And its our differences that make it fun to know them.  I appreciate a good debate if I'm not called stupid for my beliefs.

It's sad times, and it's crazy.  I worry a little about the world I leave for my daughters.  I'm sort of relieved my precious one isn't in it.  It's just crazy....

Three and Four.

This cracks me up.  On so many levels.

There's Sarah, thrilled.  Eva... not so much.  Sarah: impulsively charging ahead.  Eva: suggesting perhaps we stop and think this through.  And Daddy was right there.  They were on a giant inflatable turtle in two feet of lake water.  Cannot stop laughing at this.

Sarah is impulsive, ruled by feelings.  She's a needer.  She needs cuddled, read to.  She needs ice water, and help washing her hands, and putting on her undies, and a million other things she could do on her own but refuses to.  Sometimes I loose my patience with that.  Her neediness.  Other times I eat it up because out of the girls she's the only one always up for a cuddle.

She's naughty as heck.  She'll tell you, "now Mama, here's da troof..." and  I know she's about to lie to me.  She tattles and sasses and tries to act cool.  She tells me I'm mean and bad.  We've been reading a lot of Llama Llama Mad at Mama.  She's way into princesses, and pink, purple, and turquoise.  She loves Browned Butter Spaghetti and s'mores.  She dislikes picking up any toy, ever.  Even if it means I'll throw it away or hide it on top of the fridge she just. won't. do. it.  Everrrr.  She also would like to dye her hair pink.

Eva is not impulsive.  Everything is weighed and calculated.  If Sarah is 40% forethought 60% action Eva is the opposite.  She asks you "hand, hand".  She needs your assistance walking down the hallway.  She takes 8 minuets to scoot down the basement stairs.  She doesn't like high places.  She fake cries like nobodies business.  She looks and acts so stinkin' much like Marie its heart stopping sometimes.  And I prayed that she look like her, so that we can tell her all about her sister and tell her you look just like her.  To connect them, to give her something to cling to with this larger than life sister who lives with Jesus.  Marie like a fairy tale to them.  God took me pretty seriously.  I got my prayer answered, twinsies.

Eva loves giving kisses, and Daddy, and "tack-tors" (tracktors), and her Cabbage Patch baby, and her blankets, and her papi (pacifier).  She does not love the dog.  He is supposed to stay far away always.  If he gets to close she'll let him have it yelling "dit, dit" at the top of her lungs.

The crazy part is that now, with these third and fourth girls, I know they're going to be totally different people a month from now.  Maybe Eva gets brave, maybe Sarah slows down.  Maybe not...

Either way I love this picture, and the moment captured that shows exactly who they are, now. 

Beginning...

I feel like I am beginning again.  I have had so much to say, so many thoughts tangled in a soul for so long and haven't written them.  I'm in another season I guess.  I hate that, it sounds so angst-y.  I hate angst.  I don't want to be troubled, with issues, carrying baggage, all wrapped up in me.  But, I am.  I am some things I don't like.

Four years have passed since we moved to our new house.  Four years and Rie was here when we came.  Now three and half years she's walked in Heaven.  Blows my frickin' mind.  And three and half years of me learning who I am, who I want to be, that its okay if I'm different.  Loosing a baby is a total mind fuck. 

I've been soul searching, I've been out wandering and I think I'm beginning to know me.  And I know what I want.  One of those things is to continue this story of us.  This family.  I want to write it down because holy cow it's going fast. 

So, a new beginning...

Hi, I am Shannon.  I'm 33.  No one ever uses my whole name.  It's just Shan, and that's cool. 

I am a Christian.  Saved by a Lord who walked this earth and died for me and I don't deserve it.  But I want to be good enough for Him.  I was not raised in a church and my faith is a struggle and a choice every. single. day.  Sometimes that pisses me off.  It's cool, I'm forgiven.  And I'm so grateful.

I have four daughters.  Three walk with me, one walks with Jesus.  That also pisses me off but it's okay.  It is how it is and this rebel can't change it.  I love each one like crazy and am so amazed by who they are and that they were trusted to me.

I'm married to Luke, father of the daughters.  The farmer, the faithful one, the strong hands.  He carries me.  I saved me.  Like, literally SAVED me.  He pushed me to God when I didn't want him and took a wild girl and made her a wife.  He's amazing.  We have been together ten years, married nine.

I'm a Lutheran.  I baptise my babies, you should too.  Get over it.

My husband is a farmer.  We're pro-GMO, not organic, although I guess I'm semi-crunchy in some ways.  I'm also not politically correct.  That used to make me insecure and I'd pretend to be to please people.  I'm over that.  We grow your food so that you don't starve.  GMO's aren't chemicals they're genetics swapped between plants using science given by an awesome God.  You can disagree if you want to, we're all entitled to an opinion just please don't push yours on me.

I'm a cook, and an artist though I use a lens instead of a brush more often these days.  I'm impulsive, and passionate.  I have a temper.  I'm a work in progress.

For a long time I was Marie's mother, and that was what I did.  I took care of her.  There was nothing else to me than that.  To be honest, I was too tapped out to be more.  I had no outside interests.  Her world and keeping it as good as I could was what all my effort went toward.  In 2 1/2 short years it was over.  The best days, over.  But I still have good days.  Most of them actually.  Embracing joy because otherwise what's the frickin' point.  And there's a million people out there talking about what it is to love a terminally ill child, to parent them.  But not many talk about what it's like when that child is gone.  And that's where I am.  That's my reality every day.  And I went through a period where I was ashamed of it, or hated that it defined me, or something.  I could almost hear whispers "Oh that's Shannon, oh, her baby died".  Or meeting new people and the dreaded "how many children do you have".  And me with my steely eyes and my rebel heart defiantly saying "Four" when I obviously only have three at the time and they must wonder "what?".  But I will not discount her or discredit her or stop talking about her and family and friends can just deal with that, even if it makes them uncomfortable.  Because life is.  Its' really uncomfortable.  We just do the best we can.

And this is me.  And this is a new beginning, on an old blog.  And I'm going to be more honest.  If I want to talk about fashion, or potty training, or rum recipes that's cool.  And it doesn't make me less a person than I used to be when I was taking care of Rie and dealing with more serious stuff (I felt that for a long time, that I'm more shallow now or something).  It is the time passing, and life changing, and it's okay.

Tuesday snow...

It's melting.We went out to the farm after school to check out the hog pen.  Jo's first year in 4-H and the first show pig will arrive this weekend, maybe.  Getting excited.

Eva dislikes the dog, and the mud, and her snow boots, and the four wheeler.  I'm just hoping its the last time this year we break them boots out.

Her tiny self is so stinkin' cute though.  Bow-leggedness!

What I wore. I like to think of it as farm wife chic. Or I worked out and never changed after.  Whatever.

Tretorn wellies, old GapFit maternity leggings, Patagonia fuzzy fleece jacket, John Deere Owners Edition ballcap, Vera Wang sunglasses.

We also made banana bread muffins with pecans and chocolate chips.  It was a good day :)

A long time gone...

I've been gone. Life has been happening at such a fast pace. Just soaking that up I guess, and watching these children grow. I actually thought maybe I would be done with this blog, but I go back and read Josie's life and Marie's, and I want that for Sarah and Eva too. So the day to day, the recording that I've avoided... Maybe it's a good thing.

And they are getting big! Seventeen months now and naughty as all get out. But she's sweet and my baby and I adore her.

My big girl had a birthday. She's nine now.

And this girl, still the blessing that pulls me forward.

Dear Eva...

Dear Eva,

Someday I believe you'll read this.  You will wonder at the world and what it could have been before you.  And I will tell you, there was a missing piece in it that wasn't filled until we had you.  Our rainbow after the storm, our star.  Evangeline, we wanted you so.  We prayed for you every day while you were growing beneath my heart.  Before you were born we loved you.

And then you came and joy was multiplied.

Your sister's eyes shone when they met you at first.  Sarah was shy, Josie was excited.  A tiny one, a dark one, so like Marie and yet entirely your own self.

And Daddy... In his strong arms, in his kind hands, Daddy held you so tightly.  And I could see the love he has for you shining from him. 

Over the last year you have grown!  We see Marie in you, and I hope that as you age that is a comfort.  Even though you never walked together in this world I think your souls must know each other.  The nurse told me when you were born, while I cried with all the emotions of a mother holding her child for the first time in her arms that surely you left Heaven with a kiss from your sister on your cheek.  I don't know if that is true, but I know that the heart knows what the heart knows.  I hope that as you age you feel the blessing that your resembling Marie has been to us.  It helps us to feel she is not so far away. Some concrete proof that she was, because you look so like her.

 

 

You are always ready with a smile, always quick to snuggle into arms.  You laugh often, filled with joy daily.  You love your sisters and follow them from place to place.  You adore Daddy, chattering to him on the telephone.  Your first words, "Daddy", "Hi, Daddy".  You spend hours at the window watching the dog outside, you do not like it if he comes to close.

 

There are so many who love you, so many who have delighted in watching your first year in this world...  We are blessed to have you sweet Evangeline.  Happy Birthday Lulu, we love you!

 

Rain, and hope.

Nearly done, nearly done, NEARLY DONE! Today Luke is almost done sowing wheat.  One more quarter.  One. More. F'ing. Quarter.

I do love fall.  But this has been a long September.  After Sarah's birthday and Marie's day Luke was in the field.  He prepared fields for planting and going on hope and prayer (because there has been no measurable rain for months) he started sowing.  You sow wheat, you plant corn.  I learned that very early on in my journey as a farmer's wife.

Anyway, he started sowing.  Then we had to stop and harvest millet.  A blessing to have a crop but to be honest it was kind of pathetic.  Fifteen bushels per acre is nothing.  At least it was there but it was a terrible yield.  Mama got to be in the grain-cart.  This means that I scrambled to find childcare and spent the day in a tractor only to come home and do all that mommy stuff I didn't get done all day.  After millet we drilled some more wheat.  And then we stopped to harvest corn.  Corn harvest is supposed to happen in October, but, there's a drought and it's early.  God was good and the corn yielded a bit better than we had hoped.  44 bushels per acre on dry-land corn.  Good, average yields are about 120 bushels per acre, but in this drought year we are grateful for what we get.  Corn harvest brought more tractor time, more scramble to find childcare, more cranky girls because they are totally not used to me being gone.  We finished corn, he went back to sowing wheat.  And tomorrow, by grace, he will be done.  Hallelujah.

I would love to have that guy home for a day...

And this Friday there is a 30 percent chance of rain and snow.  It is a better chance than we have had for awhile.  We need moisture to get the wheat up, moisture so that it will grow and not starve for water and die off.  A nice cold snowy winter so that it is cold in the ground and we get a good stand (healthy plant) next spring.  Will you join me in prayer?

Lord, Let is rain!  Let it snow! You know the time it will come, and the reason for this dry season, but we ask you send moisture!  Love you Lord!  Amen.

In other news, I will have a one year old next week.  Totally mind blowing.  And she learned how to drink from a straw yesterday!  And Sarah has her first day of dance class today.  My littlest girls are growing up...

I am also going to make apple butter tomorrow.

Back.

Well...  Summer happened.  We were busy.  I sort of just took off. 

Josie and I did a ten week session with Judi's House in Denver.  They do amazing group support/grief counseling and  we came away with some new coping skills and understanding.  Josie needed it.  It was nice to have that one on one time with her every week while we drove.  Six hours round trip, lots of car time.

It has been dry.  Not a great year to be a farmer.  Wheat actually yielded a bit better than expected, but we are now sowing wheat in dry ground and getting ready to pick drought stunted corn.  It happens, it's a season of dry.  It will change.

Sarah turned three.  It was beautiful and her party was perfect and she sparkled all day. 

We marked three years since Marie went to be with Jesus.  Luke and I gathered our girls and packed up the pickup and the dog and found ourselves at the lake again this year.  Soft sand, sunshine, wind... we had a good day just being with our three girls here and remembering the one who flew.

Eva is just growing like crazy.  It's amazing how she went from this tiny being we didn't know to being a little girl in a years time.  She is funny, naughty, cuddly.  She is Daddy's and it warms my heart because he would never admit it but he has been so lonely with Marie gone.  She is his too. 

Luke and I are good.  We will mark eight years of marriage on the 25th of this month.  It is hard to believe that's all the time that passed.  I feel that we've been together forever, that I've been with him longer.  Sometimes I think it's possible that my soul has.  We've been through more in these eight years.  I am blessed to have him walk beside me.

I am good.  I am finally feeling like we've gained ground.  Like it's okay to be happy.  We are a different family.  So much has happened in three years, life is different.  I am not the person I was before.  In many ways I am but some parts of me have aged or wizened so much that I don't feel like I did before Marie being gone.  I miss my innocence.  But, God has carried us full circle and we have come to a good place.  Things are marked by Marie's absence but also by the way that she is still here, still this family, still the second born.  It's okay to be here and be happy and feel these blessings.  It's a process.  In three years time I imagine it will be different still...

 Today Luke started picking corn.  Season's change.  Things move.  It is.  We are.  It's good. :)
 

First haircut...

Our crazy brown haired girl got her first haircut last week.  At not quite seven months old.  Eva has a ton of hair, and it's so much more grown up looking now!
 Before...

 After (she looks terrified here but it really was a good haircut.  She sat all by herself and smiled through it!)

 And just because there aren't many, me.  :)  And Eva.