thankful for

This Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for:
wearing jeans : ) (with no elastic either); sleeping for 5 hrs. at a time! A Nani who's willing to change diapers and take a night shift. Sleeping on my stomach. Eating a full meal with no heartburn afterwards. A Papi, Nani, Aunt Hannah and Uncle Nick who all love to hold and rock and play with baby.

Here with us

So if you haven't heard it, listen to Joy William's "Here with us". I know it's a little early for Christmas, but if you're going to perform a Christmas dance you choreograph it early, so I've been listening to it a LOT. To me, dances to lyrical music (or music with lyrics rather) should be a painting or physical demonstration of the lyrics. I usually listen to the music purely instrumentally a few times first to see if any sort of movement quality stands out to me or if I feel like moving a certain way; if I do, I know it will be easy to choreograph to. This one moved me, but I didn't feel any specific movement coming out of the instruments... too many swells and such, hard to emulate with the human body since we can't artificially suspend ourselves : ) Next comes the words. The words to this song are really good. The theology is sound and the thoughts for me are awe inspiring, especially being pregnant and anticipating this little person coming into the world and relying so heavily on me. How crazy for Mary! I wonder how much she knew... did she know how her baby would die? Did she know, when she ran to him at night answering his cry that he was here to answer the cry of the souls of man? Did she anticipate how helpless she would be to prevent his suffering and dying for sins and wrongs not his own? Could she know as she rocked him and nursed him, that he was there to die for her? I almost hope for her sake she didn't... I can't imagine what that pain of knowledge would feel like. You know a song is good when it moves you more the more you listen to it. I'm not sick of it yet; hopefully Alyssa isn't either. I hope God will use my skill (what little I have) and move through it and through Alyssa's young body and convey these thoughts to the women who see the dance.

mommy brain

I was laying in bed last night (I don't remember which hour, take your pick. I don't actually sleep much these days, just dose) when I realized and finally appreciated why new moms can only talk about their kids. It's cute at first, 'cause everyone loves a baby, but it gets old fast and suddenly becomes apparent that they're out of touch with reality. I have officially entered this zone. My existence is no longer valid as an individual. It is irrelevant what my hair looks like, weather I wear makeup or not, if my outfit even matches, how deep the bags under my eyes are (unless it means i'm getting sick which could be trouble for baby). The reason I'm here is to support this person squishing me to death from the inside out. My life is on pause, and it has been since September. When people ask if I'm a student (I hate that question btw... as if there's nothing else valuable in life a 20-something could do) I can no longer respond, "no i'm a teacher" that Heather doesn't exist; I can't respond, "no, I'm a dancer" she's paused in some alternate reality too. I have to say, "no, I've never gone to school. I went straight into teaching, and now I'm just waiting to have a baby"... really? In America especially I think, we attach our identity to what we do. It's lame.

So, I sit here with my alternate identity on pause realizing I may never be able to push the "resume" button. I knew all along that when I did resume it would look a lot different. That things would be sacrificed and freedom would be a joke from a past life. But still, I thought I'd again be able to say, "no, i'm not a student, I'm a teacher and dancer and mum". I'm not so sure these days. The longer my life is paused the farther away it seems. The soil and ground that is life is continuing to pile up in front of me as I watch, paused, frozen, unable to climb the hill as it's built. Is this re-direction? Is this yet another great surrender that God is asking of me? If it is I'll willingly (well, as willing as a selfish child can) submit, but if this is just a challenge, then give me strength.

The Bebo Norman song "The Hammer Holds" says it so well.
"this flame it melts my dreams... So dream a little dream for me In hopes that I'll remain. And cry a little cry for me So I can bear the flames. Hurt a little hurt for me My future is untold. My dreams are not the issue here for Thee the hammer holds"

"The hammer pounds again, the flames i do not feel, this force that drives me helplessly through the flesh and would reveal, a burn that burns much deeper, it's more than i can stand, the reason for my life was to take the life of a Guiltless Man...so dream a little dream.. but my dreams are not the issue here for Thee the hammer holds."