It's Homecoming Week at Pella Community Schools. Caden has worn ridiculous hats and had clothes on that mismatched horridly. Today, however, I tried to get him to put on two different colored socks. The sobbing and actual tears that ensued were NOT worth it for a school spirit dress-up day. Apparently you can look like a hot mess but your socks should match.

It's so sweet, yet sad at the same time...

When we're driving around, Declan consistently points out what he deems "pretty houses".  He tells me, "Mama, when the brown house (the one we're currently living in) burns down I want to find you a pretty house to live in."

He has such a beautiful, tender spirit at age 4.  I hope with time he doesn't automatically assume every place we live is going to burn down.  Although I would be lying if I said at 34 I didn't sometimes worry the exact same thing.

We went camping this weekend.  Yes, it was "cold", but that's a pretty relative term.  The nights were cold but we made it.  The kids slept well.  It'll probably be our last time going out for the year, and we had a good time.

It was just me and James at the campfire for a while on Saturday night.  We both sought the fire out.  Sort of ironic, but yeah, it was cold.  We wanted to build it bigger, higher.  We find ourselves mesmerized by fire, how it just needs fuel and can just go on forever.  We throw things in to watch them burn and we think, "I wonder what the kitchen looked like...."  James slipped away for a minute and I was alone by the fire.  It was captivating, and I couldn't stop watching it.  Suddenly I very clearly heard God ask me if He could speak to me through the fire.  He knew it had caused me great pain but wanted to be a comfort through the flames.  I listened, and the message He had was simple, but astounding: "Fire doesn't seek to destroy, but to persist."

I needed that perspective change.  Fire didn't destroy my life, but it has served to persist in helping us to move forward with hope.  Sure, we're sad and it's not something we'll just get over super soon, but wow, just to persist.  I can do that.  I can persist, in spite of fire.  I can persist, no matter what. 

The twins are chasing each other around the house right now.  I just went to a tent sale at a local store I love going to, and we picked up a set of 3 cloth pumpkins for decor (they were clearanced at 70% off because they were last year's but it works out perfect because I had them from last year but lost them in the fire).  So yes, they're chasing each other around and one twin said no, she wasn't going to do something.  I then heard the other twin say, "Then I will poke your eye."

Last I checked, they have never watched The Three Stooges.

"Then I will poke your eye."  Seriously, kid??

Happy Wednesday.  The sun is shining.  And I am thankful.

Last night I was out and about and noticed that it was completely dark by 8:08pm.  That is just not acceptable.  I wish we could have the long days of summer year-round.  I could certainly handle the cold, bitter winters if the sun shone and lasted for a long time!

Tonight we meet with the guy who is drawing up our house plans.  He has a rough draft so to speak and then we will get into more of the little details.  I've got lots of ideas floating around in my head - we'll see where we can go with it all!  Still thinking we might be breaking ground next month.  My heart is hopeful.  I need to see something happening.

So perhaps, just maybe, fevers are a part of the form of muscular dystrophy the girls have.  I say this, because after my wallowing last week (which resulted in NO chocolate chip frappes that day, so bizarre) I decided to reach out to a fabulous group of people on Facebook who all either have Limb Girdle Muscular Dystrophy or have children with it and ask them about random fevers.  And to my astonishment, it's common.  Very common.  No one has said they know it's part of LGMD but I really think it is just too coincidental for it NOT be to part of it.  I'll be asking at our October 26 appointment with the specialist and her team from Iowa City.

I'm actually quite excited for that appointment.  I remember going to Caden's appointment soon after his diagnosis and just being so overwhelmed.  So fearful.  So upset.  So everything and nothing, all at once.  But now, I am excited.  I want to get some answers, and these people have answers!  There is a lot that is known about LGMD and I want to learn it.  They should even be able to tell us what they see in the girls in terms of strength and prognosis, which is encouraging as well.  Of course we know logically we'd never want that crystal ball to see our futures exactly, it sure does help to have some idea of what's coming.  Then again...maybe not.  Anywho, I just want to hear what they have to say!

I don't like to feel sorry for myself.  It's not something I spend time doing.  It certainly never HELPS anything, but instead allows you to wallow in a place you shouldn't be.  So I honestly try hard not to do it.

This morning, however, I am feeling sorry for myself.  I am trying hard to battle this depression by getting out and doing things.  I was all set, I mean ALL SET (makeup, earrings, pretty clothes on me and the girls) to get the big kids off to their rides to school, get Declan off to preschool and then take the girls to their "school" - really a Bible Study at our church where the girls go to a special program called Little Lambs.  They have been begging to go to school so I can use this to my advantage. 

I noticed that they were pretty clingy after getting dressed.  I was carrying Macey, who was laying on my shoulder, and I leaned my cheek against her forehead.  Hot.  You guessed it - both girls have fevers.  No Bible Study for us. 

Sometimes I feel like "what's the point?".  No, honestly, MOST days I feel like "what's the point?".  I don't get what I'm supposed to be doing.  I don't understand why things happen, for no apparent reason and certainly not to lift your spirits.  I don't understand why we aren't given answers to what happens to us, as a way to process our feelings and move on.  Instead, we just deal with them, over and over again.

Today, I am wallowing.  Tomorrow will be much better.  Until then, I'm going to have at least one chocolate chip frappe from McDonald's.  Probably more.

It's been 8 weeks today since the fire.  And about 7 weeks since we found out about the twins having muscular dystrophy.  I think I was running on adrenaline and the overwhelming outpouring of support from our friends, family and community.  The adrenaline is majorly waning.  I am tired.  I am tired a lot.  The support is waning.  And I totally get it.  Our immediate needs have been met.  But now, our hearts are totally broken.

The house is now completely gone.  There are a few toys scattered about the property that the bulldozer missed, but other than that there's no evidence there was ever a house there.  I feel like I need affirmation that it existed, that we loved it, that it was not just a house, but a home.  It was a place where we brought all 5 of our kids home, where we got married and moved in together, where we made a home.  And that's all gone.  I long for people to tell me, "I remember the twins' bedroom, it was so cute!" and stuff like that.

Gosh, even now I am just crying and crying.  I just miss it.  I know it was just a house and we're all safe and I'm thankful....I'm just sad.

And then we have to work on inventory.  Everything.  Everything in the ENTIRE HOUSE.  Fourteen years of everything.  The Cabbage Patch doll I got in 1984/85 when they first came out.  Her name was Donia.  And she is gone.  My babies' first little locks of hair - all 5 of them.  Gone.  And no one asked me.  No one asked my permission.  No one cared that it might make me sad.  And inventory is such a vicious cycle - you HAVE to work on it if you want to get money back to replace your things, yet working on it is DEPRESSING, so you don't want to work on it...but if you don't work on it you won't be able to replace anything.  Vicious.

I know no one has forgotten about us.  I'm sane enough to know that, yet it's just so painful.  I'm living in a house that isn't mine, with clothes and furniture and things that aren't mine.  We are starting on building plans and have a builder we love.  People keep asking if we're excited.  Excited?  No.  Thankful, always, but not excited.  It's very difficult to crank up some enthusiasm for massive undertakings you never wanted to take on in this season of life.  I'd like to enjoy my kids and spend time in my home decorating for fall. 

Gah.  I hate to sound so bleak but I'm really not feeling all the fantastic right now.  I covet your prayers.