• 31Dec

    I wanted to be a Mrs. Noah.

    As many times as we have heard the story of Noah and the ark, everyone forgets to mention Noah’s wife.  And yet I know of No Man who could take on a project of that size, that length of time commitment, that amount of ridicule and hopelessness without someone there to support him, back him up, and just be there at the end of a long day.  Men just are not designed to handle all of that alone (neither are women for that matter).  Guaranteed it may not always be a spouse filling that role . . .

    Anyway, I’ve never been much for being in the lime light (ask my mom).  I enjoyed the ‘behind the scenes’ work like the planning, organizing, encouraging, and sometimes even the clean up.  I enjoyed my role as wife.  There I could be an encourager, a sounding board, a giver of advice, a planner, organizer, trainer of the kids, project assistor, etc  . . all kinds of things that made Dan look good.  I liked doing things for him that would make others look at him with envy and made him look like the wonderful father and husband that he was.  I wanted him to make those inventions of his a reality.  I wanted to help him make that green box fly.  I wanted others to see what a great Daddy he was.

    I’m not trying to brag, just trying to point out how much I loved that role; how much I enjoyed standing quietly beside my man . . shining the light on him and watching him light up the stage.  I enjoyed the challenge of pushing him forward when he needed the encouragement, giving him the eye (tactfully) to let him know it was time to shut up, and working together to make our household run efficiently and smoothly.  When he shone, so did I.

    I wanted that WITH him . . . this is a role reversal I never even desired. . .

  • 31Dec

    Wow! I say,

    As I sit and stare

    At the piles of cards

    Representing mountains of prayers


    God is so good,

    God is so true

    Just like He promised,

    “I will take care of you.”


    Above and beyond,

    All that we ask or think,

    He has provided,

    Without even a blink.


    Our God is so big,

    So great and so wise.

    Why do we believe

    In Satan’s lies?


    Why do we doubt,

    The one who wants what’s best,

    When going through

    Some of life’s awful tests?


    His promises are true,

    And remain the same.

    Even when our hearts

    Play the doubting game.


    Your prayers have been a reminder

    Of God’s faithfulness to me.

    Wherever you are,

    On land or at sea.


    Thank you so much,

    For all you have done.

    May your crowns be filled

    With the jewels you have won.


                                          –Liisa Ewing

  • 31Dec

    My apologies to every one who has been having problems with the ‘remembering dan’ site.  Apparently my neglect to put in a title often causes this heartache.  I will do my best to remedy that little detail in the future.

    Also, I would like to note, and please pardon my grouchiness on this subject, that the labor did not go well.  I am ashamed by my behavior, and embarrassed that my midwife saw that, and am somewhat appalled by the emotions that spilled out regarding Dan and Caleb during that difficult time.  And, yes, much of that was to be expected, but I’m still not pleased.  Those were not happy moments . . . still, they are over.  There is nothing I can do to change them and the end result (Caleb) will be a tremendous blessing from the Lord, I’m sure.

    I do thank you all for your concern and prayers and am grateful for the excitement you have expressed.  Your excitement reminds me of what I should be focusing on.

    And please don’t feel discouraged from writing more comments.  Whether you know what to say or how to say it . . . just saying “Hi” lets me know that someone out there is interested and does still care about what is going on in our lives . . something that I am clinging to at this point in my life.

  • 28Dec
    Categories: Family Updates, Remembering Dan, Single Parenting Comments Off on 12-28

    I haven’t hardly looked at him . . not comprehensively anyway.  I’ve cuddled him, loved him, fed him, changed him . . but to register features, details, differences . . . it’s like the weeks of exhaustion after Dan’s death.  Apparently “giving up that baby” (or birth) was as emotionally packed and as physically wearing as giving up Dan.  And this is only the beginning.  The prospect of “giving up” my children to the many different growing stages such as school, driving, first overnighter at friends, college, and a spouse, didn’t seem near as daunting when I had the prospect of more time with Dan.  Change was expected with Dan around.  Adjustments weren’t as emotionally charged.  He never let me get comfortable in one place, on one thought, too long . . always moving on to the next challenge.

    How do I raise a child when half of me is missing?  How do I raise seven!?  Some days the thought of the future is so overwhelming.  I remind myself regularly:

    God gives us grace for today, not tomorrow.

    He cares for the sparrow, He’s not going to ignore your little one’s and their eventual leaving of the nest.

    One day at a time . . .

    His promises are true and do endure . . . it’s not just a one-time deal.  He will be with us forever, not just now.

    And today I remind myself that I had a lousy night last night and my body is tired, weak, and sore.  Everything looks worse when the physical body is suffering.  It’s difficult to be spiritually upbeat when you are physically beaten down.  Physical needs do have a bearing on our spiritual and emotional needs.  They are all intertwinded like the strands of a rope, and when one strand is frayed the whole rope is weaker.  So, anyways . . . off to bed so we don’t repeat this tomorrow.

  • 26Dec

    In case you haven’t figured it out yet . . . Caleb Daniel is #7 in the Ewing clan.  He arrived on Christmas Day.  I woke my Mom up at about 2:30 a.m. and asked her if she wanted to open a Christmas present from Dan.  Caleb wasn’t actually born until 4:50 p.m. (Dan never liked opening Christmas presents that early in the morning anyway), which gave us plenty of time to open Christmas presents with the rest of the kids and help get them some lunch before deserting Grandpa and going to hide out at the midwife’s.  We got home in time to introduce the siblings to each other before bedtime.  They all were excited about the baby, even Payden, and were all asking about him as soon as they got up in the morning.

    Labor was not nice and I did not do well unlike most of my other labor’s.  I think that subconsciously I was still kind of waiting for Dan to show up and therefore was sort of fighting with my body as to whether or not we really wanted to do this or not.  We had about three hours of serious labor including about one hour of intense labor.  It would not have been pretty if Dan had showed up in the middle.  I was seriously ready to slaughter him.  (Guess that was already taken care of  ={ for me.)

    Anyway, it’s over and I am glad.  Now I guess we can move on with the next phase of my life.

  • 26Dec
    Categories: Family Updates, Single Parenting, Uncategorized Comments Off on pictures


  • 26Dec
    Categories: Family Updates, Single Parenting, Uncategorized Comments Off on Mom N Baby Pictures


    Caleb and Mom on Dec 25

    Caleb and Mom on Dec 25

    Caleb Daniel Ewing born Dec 25 8lbs 5oz 21 inches 4:50 p.m.

  • 23Dec

    To all who have been waiting breathlessly (we hope not many since it’s taking so long) for news on baby Ewing #7 . . . I guess I need to tell you to start breathing again.  We went to visit the midwife today-on my due date, Tues, Dec 23 – and she is telling me that she doesn’t think the baby will show up for another week to 10 days.  Just knowing that makes it possible for me to relax a bit again.  I really didn’t want a Christmas baby so to hear that it could be a bit was almost a relief.  It does, however, also mean that I will be spending a bit more time in PA than was originally anticipated.  That really isn’t a problem, just something else to consider.  The kids are a bit disappointed.  Josiah has been telling me to go to the doctors and “pop” that baby out!  I keep telling him that he needs to take it up with God and every now and then he will mention it in his prayers.  So cute.

    Love and Thanks to all,

  • 21Dec

    I woke this morning to the sound of the computer. I wandered bleary eyed out into the living room to find Benjamin hard at his Civilization game (a game his father taught him) and oblivious to the rest of the world. I whispered something about it being awfully early and he just smiled and waved at me. I stumbled back to bed figuring he’d be just fine. Then the memories rolled in. I remember Dan telling me of the many Saturday mornings he woke up early (5 or 6) to watch a cartoon before heading back to bed. I remember him staying awake for hours playing on his computer after everyone else had gone to sleep. I remember waking up at 2 am, noticing that he was still missing and getting up to find him still locked in some life or death struggle with a machine that failed to remind him of the time.
    So as I crawled back into bed this morning I rolled over to look at his side and grumbled about Benjamin being “his kid”. Then I noticed again that his side of the bed was empty and realized that he wasn’t just out playing with his computer, or off to work already, . . and the pain washed over me all over again. Why isn’t he here to chuckle at my joke and cuddle me back to sleep? Why isn’t he here to see his children grow up? Why was I left behind? How do I make it through another day? And I find myself blindly clutching a pillow, a blanket, anything; trying to find some solace in the “feel” of something substantial, trying to get a grasp on the life that is still revolving around me, trying to find something that will bring me back to the present, the here and now.
    Not all days start like that, for which I am grateful. But I do often find myself struggling to bring myself back to reality, back to the way normal people view the day. Even a conversation with a stranger in the parking lot will remind me of just how much my perspective has been saturated by the loss of Dan. I miss him so.

  • 21Dec

    Can they see the pain that haunts my eyes? Can they hear my heart breaking in two? Do they have any idea just how close to tears I am on any given occasion? Are they feeling the same thing and I’m just so lost in my own grief and self that I can’t see beyond my own pain? How many people that I meet on the street, in the store, driving by, delivering the mail . . how many of them are suffering, too? How often have I smiled at someone without looking into their eyes, and have failed to notice that their world is breaking up around them. How often have I said lightly “Have a nice day!” and never noticed just how difficult that could be?

    The pain is there, permeating everything; every thought, every word, every action. “How can they not see?” I wonder. And then I struggle to recall the innocence of the distant past. Even my children often seem oblivious to the pain that is drowning me. They are so matter of fact in their conversations about Daddy. “Daddy is dead” they might say, and then move on to “I like lots of green in my pictures”. No correlation, no tears, . . sometimes they toss out memories and sometimes they note that they miss their Daddy, but life moves on and they just don’t seem to realize the hole, the loss that they are enduring. In some ways I envy them the simplicity. Jesus tells us to come to Him as little children . . bring Him the hurt, the pain, the loss and leave it there. Continue on with life . . . oh, but the past still haunts me so.