being still.

There have been many things that have forced stillness, or in some cases idleness, upon me in the past. But nothing quite like a sleeping baby can thrust me into a time of being still. I mean that physically as well as mentally. I've been meaning to write again in the space for a few days, but not until now - in the midst of needing to prepare for this evening, make dinner for a husband been away for three days, and wash the long-neglected pans in the sink - does the weight of her sleeping body on me keep me where I am. She is tired and needs this rest, but she also sleeps deepest and best when sleeping on my chest, or on me in some way. I suppose my warmth and my pulse against her little form is a comfort to her, and so I stay. Stay here in the sweet moment, regardless of the things I need to do, and just let her sleep. I will cherish the times I chose to sit in stillness with her, rather than bustle off to the things I think are important at the time. The dirty pans have waited days anyway, what's a little more time? Time to watch my little angel sleep again, to memorize the rounds of her little cheeks and her tousled nearly-there hair - all the things that will change so quickly as she grows into the woman God created her to be. It's worth being still for her, and I'm never idle as long as I'm memorizing her.

one-handed talents and time shifting.

It's amazing the things I've learned to do one-handed since becoming a mom. The cup of coffee sitting beside me was fully made one-handed - from cleaning the pot and grinding the beans, to grabbing the mug, pouring the coffee and doctoring it just right with creamer. Learning the counter-balance of baby-on-hip as you move through doorways or down halls was another learning curve - it only took one time of slamming my arm and Josie's poor little head knocking against the door jamb to teach me that lesson. As I sit here, the sweet weight of a sleeping little girl on my chest, and think of all the ways she has changed me in the last nine months I am overcome with emotion for this little being that I helped make. I never knew being a mom would suit me so well, I never knew that the little noises she makes with her mouth while she sleeps would sing sweetly in my ears, rather than disgust me as it does when adults make similar noises. Even her most give-me-attention cries don't grate in my ears (yet).
She has wrought great change in me. She has made me patient. She has made me giving. She has softened the hardest parts of me. She has given me motivation to reach for my dreams and make changes I never thought possible. She has given me perspective. And she has given me cause for lots of introspection.

One of the things I've been pondering upon lately is how time changes as our lives change. I was chatting with a girl in her freshman year in college and asking her how her Christmas was. She nodded, telling me it was good then stopped and said, "It went by really quickly though! Quicker than usual!" I just looked at her and said, "It'll never slow back down now, it'll just get quicker and quicker." How true is that though? I remember as a kid, and even as a teenager too, thinking that time went by so slowly! Once Christmas break arrived, I'd take naps every afternoon to try to make Christmas come quicker, and it still felt like it dragged on getting here. Now I find myself staying up later just watching Josie sleep; I don't want to miss anything! The days are flying by and she's growing so fast that I'll do anything to try to slow things down. It's funny how our perspective shifts like that, isn't it? You go from being a child to having a child, and time goes from standing still to days running together in a blur they're passing by so quickly - I can hardly keep track with what day it is.

I guess all of this is to say that Josie is teaching me how to live in the moment and enjoy the now for the beauty each second brings - not yearning for something in the future or even living in the past, pining for what was. This moment is precious. Her little mouth partially open as she sleeps, the smell of her sweet baby breath as she dreams and breathes, the contrast of her long, black eyelashes against her creamy skin and how they're so long they curl a little at the ends, the lines left on her face from my shirt as she shifts in her sleep to her other side, her little fingers and hands twitching as she slumbers, and that smile that fleetingly graces her sleeping face every once in a while. I could go on and on - this moment is beautiful and I am thankful for it even as I look forward to more and remember ones past. My daughter grows and I'll just grow with her, as mommas do, always in awe at the beautiful life with which I have been entrusted.

let the songs begin again.

It is the first day of a brand new year, and I can hardly believe that it is 2014. Not only that, but I have been married for six and a half years now, and I have an eight and a half month old daughter. When did I become such a grown up? I feel like it was just the other day that I pulled up onto the campus of Montreat College, full of excitement and anticipation of being in college and away from home. Fast forward nearly ten years (what?!) and a lot has changed, but I'm feeling a similar excitement and anticipation roiling again in the pit of my stomach for what this year will bring, and I feel a grin spread across my face at the knowledge that it will be very good, indeed.

Some of you may know that I began a venture this past year with my sister-in-law, Christal, called Arbonne. I was the biggest skeptic at the beginning, having already tried and hated network marketing, but there was something different about this company and Christal convinced me to just see if it might be a fit for me. With the encouragement of her, and my other upline friends, I jumped in with both feet and have been sometimes stumbling, sometimes sprinting, and sometimes crawling toward my dreams these past seven or eight months. Today, my dreams have become that much more attainable and some have already been realized. Today, I am officially an Area Manager with Arbonne and I only have two weeks left of my regular full-time job [and Christal is a Regional Vice President now!] This means a number of things for me: the most important of which is that I am officially a stay-at-home mom for my beautiful daughter, Josie - this alone is cause for the utmost rejoicing and tears of joy; the second thing that this means though, is that writing will now be pushed back up to the forefront of my daily tasks alongside mothering the most adorable and happy-go-lucky eight-month-old. While cleaning up my office/library/craft room today I found my original action plan from my first month in Arbonne and I got to reread the WHYs that I put to paper when first embarking on this journey. Intermingled with the staying at home wishes and financially free plans I found this: "I want to write. Hands down, I know that's what I was created to do." And that's what I plan on doing. I plan to write something every single day, whether it's here in this space, in my personal pen and ink journal, or on my novel that has been ever gnawing on my mind these past months; I will write. And this makes me so incredibly happy. God is so good, and He truly provides the desires of our hearts. I am in awe at his grace and mercies every day and to Him I give all the glory and credit for my current dreams-coming-true state.

Let there be songs on this mountain once again!

in which I became a mother.

I realize this space has been sorely neglected for quite some time - and I also realize that I have written that sentence before. However, this time I have the best excuse that one could ever have for not being present in this space - I became a mother. My life has changed remarkably in the past nearly six months, and I cannot even imagine not having Josie in it now. She has made me a better person and has made me a new person. In fact, the little weight I have on my chest right now is the best feeling in the world, and I feel so incredibly blessed be her mum. I love every single thing about her, and her little face is my favorite sight to see these days.

I wish I could tell you that I would try to write consistently here from now on, but with all we have going on right now there's no way I can make that promise. What I can promise is that whenever I have the time or proclivity to write a little something here or post a photo of our goings-on, I will. This adventure of motherhood is one which I am thoroughly enjoying and I cannot wait to continue down this path. I will update when I can, and I will breathe in every moment of this sweet little girl.

When I'm 98.

My Great-Grandmother Barker turned ninety-eight a few days ago. On Sunday, the Barker progeny gathered in her honor just outside of Charlotte to celebrate her life, legacy, and continuation of her place as matriarch of our family. She was able to say a short prayer before the meal as she sat at the head of the table, while her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, as well as her latest great-great-granddaughter that I carry with me. She is such a testament to our family, and her faith, steadfastness, and determination is an inspiration to all of us.
As part of the celebrations, Aunt Betsy asked us to write an essay about what we would like our lives to look like when we turn ninety-eight--our hopes, dreams, and aspirations. As usual, I took a more creative take on the assignment and wrote a scene of what I would like to imagine my ninety-eighth birthday will look like. I have shared my scene here--being surrounded by family, as Grandmother is, is my biggest wish:

When I’m 98

By Caitlin Barker Foreman

            The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across on the road leading up to the house, the dust has already settled, though the kids have only been gone for a half an hour. I say kids, but really they’ve been grown and had families of their own for years now. I sit on the crisp-white front porch, rocking slowly back and forth, swaying to the sound of the wind in the trees that line the driveway and dot the rolling hills surrounding the house. I look up to the mountains and consider their grandeur—how small am I, how insignificant compared to them. I have lived but for the blink of an eye in light of their stalwart history. The rocking chair creaks in slow time beneath me, and I still hear the echoes of my great-great-grandchildren’s squeals and giggles of delight as they frolicked and played through the well-worn halls of the farmhouse and spilled out onto the lawn and gardens surrounding it filling the air with their joy.

            Today I turned 98 years old. I look down at my hands as they grasp the armrests of my trusty rocking chair and marvel at the change that has been wrought in them these 98 years. I’ve often wondered at the phrase about knowing something “like the back of your hand,” because I certainly haven’t gone through life staring at the backs of my hands enough to recognize them as the years change and wither their once smooth skin. Now these mountains, those I know. I know the smells that come with the first spring rains, and the early budding Dogwoods and Bradford Pear trees. I know the verdant greens that fill the valleys and peaks with beautiful new growth—I even know the constantly changing clouds and the shadows they make on the mountainside in the summer as they float lazily overhead. I know the deep dimples on the cheeks of my beloved in his ever-present smile, and the timbre of his voice as he says he loves me every night before bed. And I know my children. I know the little freckle on the side of my eldest daughter’s nose that has been there since she was a year old, and I know the cowlicks in my youngest son’s hair that still get the better of him some days. It is things like these that I have spent my life memorizing, not the aging skin on the back of my hand, but the glorious blessings with which my Creator has gifted me. More precious than jewels these things are. More precious than the books I have published that allowed me to provide for my family, or the wondrous sights around the world I have seen. Blessed am I in the eyes of the Father, for my quiver is full and my heart overflows with joy.

            I close my eyes and let the spring breeze caress my face— it blows silver hairs pulled loose from my tied-back hair that tickle my forehead.

            “Mama?” says a soft voice that followed the familiar creak of the screen-door opening. “Mama, it’s time to come in.” She comes out and kneels beside my chair—she’s still so beautiful and elegant, the years have been kind to her. She has her father’s dimples. “Happy birthday, Mama. Did you have a good day?”

            “Oh, sweetheart. Every day the good Lord blesses me with is a good day, but yes, this one was particularly fine.” Any day that I am surrounded by my children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great grandchildren is a very good day, indeed.

            “You sure have left a legacy of progeny,” She says with a smile as she stands up beside me as if she knows exactly what I was thinking. “Not to mention a legacy of love. God has truly blessed us by giving us you as a matriarch, Mama. I hope you know how much you’ve inspired all of us— you and Daddy. We love you. Happy 98^th birthday again, Mom.”

            My eyes fill with tears at her words. God had blessed us, beyond all measure, but I know that it is me who is the one truly blessed. She begins to help me to my unsteady feet as her husband comes out onto the porch bearing my walker—I hate that thing, but I can’t get around without it. Before they help me inside, I turn my head for another glance at my mountains. The sun has begun to set and casts a beautiful golden light on the newly green trees gracing the familiar face of those mountains. I smile to myself as I’m helped inside. Here’s to another year full of joy, family, and God’s unfailing love.

Forty-six

There are days when the birth of my daughter still seems forever away. And then there are days when things are put into perspective and I realize how close I really am to holding her in my arms. Forty-six days.  Forty-six until my due date, so give or take a week or so on either side and I’ll be looking into the eyes of my firstborn child. It is so surreal for me still to know the truth of that, to feel her squirming around inside me constantly, knowing that she is there and growing and so very mine. It’s surreal, and then at the same time it is so right and good, and I rejoice at the blessing of carrying this child for nine months in preparation of being her mother. Mother. I am a mother. This title is one that frightens, excites, and incites all at the same time. Frightening because I fear I’ll fail miserably, exciting because of the exhilarating knowledge that this baby was made especially for Jeremy and me, and inciting because I am compelled to be the best mother and wife that I can be to my new little family of three.  I will cherish the remainder of the time I have to be just me and her together, and Jeremy and I as just husband and wife, and I look forward to the time when this baby deems herself ready to make an appearance with joy and hope.

Last week on Valentine's Day at 32 weeks.

birthdays - both present and future.

Entering my thirtieth week with the knowledge that in ten short weeks I could be holding my little girl in my arms has been pretty surreal—kinda like this entire process actually. I still can’t properly picture it, but as the time draws nearer my joy and excitement grows larger and more profound. God has blessed Jeremy and I beyond words with the existence of this wee bairn, and I pray that I am ready—and if not ready, then prepared to be the best that I can be—to be her mother. Jeremy and I have begun getting up just a little earlier in the mornings. We roll out of bed, brew a pot of coffee and settle side by side on the couch as the morning light filters in through our living room window. Jeremy then reads the Bible out loud, usually a chapter from Psalms, and a Proverb for the day of the month we’re on (since there are 31 chapters), and then a passage from the New Testament as well. We began in Ephesians, and are into Philippians now. We’ve also begun praying together each morning, and I cannot express how beginning my day that way has improved my attitude and my overall demeanor for the impending day. Sharing this time together has enabled Jeremy and I to grow in ways that we had not before, even in five years of marriage, and help prepare us to be the mother and father for our little huckleberry that we were created to be. We pray for her every morning, and we pray that we are up to the task of raising her up in the way she should go. I am overjoyed about this new chapter in our lives, and am so excited to see what else is in store for us as we go forward and take on these new roles.

Also, today is the birthday of my first ‘baby’, our Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Cael, turns five today. We got him when he was three months old, and since then he has been a constant source of love and joy in our lives—the kind that only a loyal and loving dog can bear. So happy birthday, Cael!

Both of my wee ones. :)