Build-a-bear mom hearts

I only blog when I'm sad. Or contemplative. Or I need to sort through something. I haven't blogged in awhile. Because life's been good. I've been busy having bonfires, playing cars, and teaching "little one" how to walk, and making things for kids at school that may work for a day or a year, and I've just been blessed and content. Then, came the week before Thanksgiving.

For those of you that don't know, we were broken into while we were both working. I came home from work and found it first. I left right away out of fear, and Will came in and double checked. After all was said and done, we were left with missing our computers and our safe, which had our passports, house keys, car keys, birth certificates, social security cards, check books, marriage license, etc. We were also left with our living room a mess, things pulled out from under our bed and night stands, and a feeling that someone was in our house that wished harm upon us. It's a sickening feeling. We lost many things that day, including losing a sense of safety and security in our own home. So, we've been sad. We've cried, and we've tried to rationalize in our head that everything is ok. I know things can be replaced, and I know that no one's going to steal our "identity." But what I can't replace are my photos and videos of my boys, which were stored on that computer. On that computer were also our vows, wedding video, all my documents from college that shaped me, my electronic journals from the past 7 years, and other documents that mean nothing to anyone, but they mean everything to me. But the photos and videos of my babies are gone, and that is truly painful. I called Apple in tears asking if they could pull anything, and I've begged people to send me anything they have. The night after "that day," I just couldn't sleep. I was devastated. I got up and stayed up until late into the night crying and crying. When this happens, I grab my journal.

You see, I process with words. Alone. I can't call and talk it out. I can't go for a run. I have to write. So, this is something I wrote. There may be more blogging over the next couple of weeks, because unfortunately that was only the beginning of a pattern of bad, horrible things that happened in our lives and the lives of those we love and call family. So, there's lots to process. Lots of words that will need to be written and lots of sadness to be sorted out.

I haven't been able to post this, because I had no computer to do so. So, here's a post from my journal. And maybe, it'll help me sort it out. The sadness is still overwhelming and hits me at the quiet times. So, I know that this will be a process, and I know it doesn't compare at all to other's loss. But this is my way of working through it.

"Life is full of moments. Life happens fast, and moments fly by. Moments can elicit all kids of emotion; anger, jealousy, anxiety, and so on. This week, I experienced something new. Someone came into our home, where we eat, where we play trains, and where we are a family. They were uninvited, un-welcomed, yet took whatever they wanted. To them, it was money. For us, they took our security. Things that were ours.

I think God made moms with extra hearts. As a child, I went to build-a-bear and after you stuff your animal of choice, you kiss a little heart and slip it in the bear or elephant that you are "creating." I imagine God does the same thing with moms, except they get 8-10 hears depending on how many little ones they get to love and care for. So because we have these 8-10 build-a-bear hearts, we can't help ourselves. We cry when they're born. We cry when they roll-over. We call everyone when they start walking. We laugh and laugh when they giggle at a funny face. These are the moments in time you want to freeze. They won't happen again. They just won't. So, I've done what all moms have done. I documented every moment. I never wanted to forget the little things; any sneeze, tickle, laugh, tantrum, "I love you," first steps, the first time they say "mama," because these are the sacred moments that make all those build-a-bear heart aches. I mean aching. I can just look at my boys, and I am already crying. You see, the love and adoration for my boys runs so deep and rich in these everyday moments, that I physically hurt. And then, in these little moments, I'm reminded how blessed I am.

So my husband gives me a hard time for having too many photos and videos on my phone. It makes it slow. Blah, blah, blah. But I would watch these little moments over and over. We set up a way on my computer to organize them. I could find any moment by month and year. And I could relive any moment anytime I wanted. And all those build-a-bear hearts hurt all over again as I watch short videos of all the silliness of life when you're two and the sweetest moment of that two year old meeting his new little brother.

I figure there will be a day when my teenage sons tell me I don't know anything and I'm the worst mom ever. Then I'll sit down in the quietness and pull up a video and watch them tell my how much they loved me while eating mac-and-cheese with that sweet two year old smile. I'll watch the songs they made up and danced to. I'll watch the day we brought each of them home and the proud look on my face as I looked down and kissed all over their newborn cheeks. These are the moments that you always have.

But then there's the moment when someone is in your house who doesn't belong. And he rips the computer off the wall and runs out. With all my moments. He takes all my moments. I write when I'm sad. Friends, my build-a-bear mama hearts ache, cry, and beg for these moments back. These videos and photos are apart of me. They are the story of my life. I will remember what I can, but the memory will fade. I won't be able to hear Fin's little voice yelling when he went potty for the first time. I won't be able to show our boys the day mommy and daddy said "I do" to one another forever. I won't be able to show Granger how many people committed to praying over his life when he was dedicated. I won't be able to watch the tender, special moment that we brought Granger home and Fin got to meet his best friend and playmate, who he thought was baby Jesus at the time. I won't be able to watch Fin balancing on Will's hand in a hot-dog costume, or watch the first time we gave Granger a bath. So tonight, I weep. I cry for what's lost. The moments. My build-a-bear mom hearts are heavy tonight. Life will continue to happen, and it's full of moments. I'll just have to pray that I never forget the old ones. And I pray that the visitor who came uninvited to our home will never hurt someone else as much as our family has been."

We are still blessed. God is still good. I pray he experiences deep forgiveness. But the sadness is still there.