Some of My Favorites

A Few Posts I've Enjoyed Writing
Will You Pway With Me
Puppy Changes
I Don't Like You
New Shower
With Thanksgiving
I Think You Hate Me
Happenings
Mounting Resistance
What Do You Do
Growing

This has been a good year for

The Lord's lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,
For His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning,
Great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23

Giving Heart

She parcels out Halloween candy. A piece for everyone she will see that day. She doesn't eat alone of her bounty.

She bring me from her Sunday school Christmas gift. Knowing I've eaten several pieces of fudge, I politely refuse. Her eyes drop. I explain. I ask, Does it hurt your heart when Mommy doesn't want to eat candy you have brought her? She shakes her head. Confirmation. (Perhaps my belly will understand that and won't gather more sugar unto itself.)

I enjoy gifts. I enjoy giving and receiving gifts. But she. . .

She speaks her heart in gifts.
and
She receives our love in gifts.
Just to know she is thought of.

Random Incomplete Thoughts for 2010

I can't believe there is already a 1 in the tens place of our new century. Remember all the hubbub surrounding 2000. The fear of doom caused by the crashing of computers worldwide. It would seem that we are heading into a new decade quietly. And for that I can only be grateful.

But it would seem that heading into a new year has me all discombobulated. Lots of random things floating around in my head waiting to become goals and plans and the will to be transformed in the light of His Word.

Romans 1:20-22

For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse. For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God or give thanks, but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for an image in the form of corruptible man and of birds and four-footed animals and crawling creatures.
I was reading the other day, just reading, not studying, and this hit me. They knew Him. They did not honor or thank Him. They fell away. Now I am not talking about the sureness of salvation. People far more well-educated and spoken than I can sound confused about that subject so I stay away. But, think of the danger, not honoring God and not giving Him thanks allowed their hearts to become dark. I don't want that. Yet, I forget the thanks and the honor due Him.

Philippians 4:11

Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am.
I feel like I am not enough. That I haven't gotten everything done but I don't know what is left to do. That I am behind. I don't know what triggers those feelings. And I don't know how to combat said feelings. There is just a nagging sense of inadequacy and of insufficiency. I want to overcome it.
We go out to eat alot. We go to the store alot. I think I have a messed up idea of need. I mean really do I need it or would it make life easier or more pleasant or improve things in some ways. What would those two more round laundry baskets really do? And do I really want my children waking up to say where are we going today? And when we look at their toys do we want to be completely overwhelmed by what they have to the point of not being able to comprehend picking them up?
I think they're linked. Giving Him honor and thanks and being content not just with what I have but with who I am and what I do.

Proverbs 1:7

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction.
And what is education? What is home education? What does God want me to worry about when educating our children? Where does academics fall and what of discipline and character? What of developing heart in the children--how do I give into their desire to serve and love others, how do I encourage and teach that?
I used to say that I didn't want to be a weird homeschooling family, but in a world where we have forgotten faith, maybe we should be a weird homeschooling family one where God touches all we do. Not in some closed-minded, narrow dogmatism, but where considerations of His pleasure are in the forefront. Where hearts and minds and wills are being trained to love Him with everything. Oh my, then I join the learners.

James 1:27

Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.
And what of myself in these areas? I looked through the World Vision catalog and our Samaritan's Purse catalog and heard from Compassion International this Christmas season. I read of friends who have adopted and people I don't know who love those children born differently-abled and rejected by their parents and their culture. I listen and weep at Steven Curtis Chapman's All I Want for Christmas. And those things I want, I claim as needs, pale. And I wonder where that leads me?

Matthew 25:35, 36, 40

`For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.' . . . "The King will answer and say to them, `Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.'

So what of my life? What is 2010 bringing? How have I been shaped this last year? In these areas penetrated by the Light, what will the work of the Word be? For He is working.

It Happened to Me Spiritually May It Happen to Them

For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again,
but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out "Abba! Father!"
Romans 8:15

And knowing I am the adopted daughter of the King, I will pray for those waiting for their earthly families.

Precious is six and her little brother Corey is four.
They are in Pennsylvania.

Waiting. . .

She Says

Heard
Come on Girls it's time to go hunting.

Don't go that way. Coyotes live in there and I don't want them jumping out on you.

Conversation
Girl with ribbon in hand: Those nuts are trying to get the baby. I'm trying to get them too.
Mama brushing teeth: Really, nuts are trying to get the baby.
Girl:Yes, I don't know why.
Mama thinking it best to find out what the ribbon was for: Are you trying to get the nuts or the baby.
Girl: The baby.
Mama: Don't tie up your brother.
Girl skipping away with the ribbon: Okay.

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas

Isaiah 9:6
For a child will be born to us,
a son will be given to us;
And the government will rest on His shoulders;
And His name will be called
Wonderful Counselor,
Mighty God,
Eternal Father,
Prince of Peace.

We Enter the Story

Waiting. . .

We studied the Jesse tree devotionals this advent. What a story! Fall and redemption told and retold. Messiah promised over and over. Time waiting for its fullness.

Then. . .He enters our world, fallen, cursed. Immanuel, God with us. For this purpose. . . Lamb of God. Beaten, bloody, separated . . . atonement.

His kingdom come. Hearts bowed in His presence. Cries of repentance. Christ-king in the lives of Abraham's faith-decedents.

Believers enter the waiting. Living is Christ and death is gain. Souls born into the kingdom. The adopted longing to be with the Father. Martyred souls crying from beneath the altar.

The God who makes promises has a history of keeping promises. Immanuel, Lamb of God entered history quietly, humbly. King of kings, Lord of lords will come in glory, powerful.

So those of us on this side continue the waiting.

Searching for the Poetry

Girl scared awake crashes into our room in the middle of the night.
go get your pillow I remind as I pull the sleeping bag out of the closet. She returns snuggles into the bag and begins falling asleep. She crawls into our bed as I begin to nod back off.
no, stay in the sleeping bag.
i'm scared.
you stay there and I'll hold your hand.
In the dark four year-old hand finds Mama-hand and she is asleep in seconds. Her hand slips from mine before I am ready. She is safe. She is secure. She can rest.
She rests through his getting ready and leaving. Then she wakes crawls up into bed and snuggles close to tell me a story, or three. Getting ready for the day, together.

We go to town. Boy can't or won't keep his boots on. She decides she needs gifts for Mommy and Daddy. Returning to feed children. Then words, sweet time together, reading.

Her choice speaks to my yesterday. Keep following the call, the gift and all things will be supplied.

I can find Him here in the messiness of mothering if I but look at the poetry of the life I've been given. I can see my Author's hand and His presence if I look at Him.

Not Feeling It

Babbling crawls toward the open door. Quickly grabbing the silverware from his little hands, I move toward the drawer, low in the cabinet so she can help with dinner. Little legs supporting baby body, his fingers grab the rack.

Move baby, find pot and spoon, distract. He drums. I pick up where I left off. Silverware. Stacking bowls, plates, into the cabinet. She wanders in, finds her own pan and spoon and begins drumming along. Listen for the sounds, baby boy, little girl making music.

The time slips. Dishwasher half full of clean is closed. Christmas gifts brought up. Artwork saved for months laid across the table. Time to wrap. She picks the paper for each gift. Tape lots of tape. Giving heart blesses with the work of her hands. Anticipating the ripping, unwrapping, joyful. For every gift an ornament or two, their initials cut from applesauce dough. For the giving heart must give.

I checked my Facebook account. I think over my comments. I see bloggers with comments and friends with big lives with interesting things happening, and I am jarred by the smallness of my life. Dishes, and children, and dog. Laundry, and dinner, and husband. Doesn't seem to make me all that interesting. I can't get the cards done for fear of nothing to say. No one wants to hear from me anyway, my boring life.

Baby boy scales her chair and makes getting her feet his goal. Frustrated she ,stomps, and growls. The clock reminds me that it is time for a nap. Girl wails wanting to continue. It is time for a break. You are frustrated and tired. We will finish wrapping the gifts when you wake up and after we've gone outside. I take her to her bed and plop her in. Going to retrieve the napping blanket, I scoop the babbling crawler off the floor. He goes to his bed, pacifier in place, covered rolls over. Snuggling down into the napping blanket, she holds tight to me for Jesus Loves Me. Now they sleep.

I write. I've come to a place where the words I have next aren't words I want to write. I am embarrassed by them. For no matter how much I love this family, I am intimidated by the lives of others, because I am unimpressed with my own calling. I don't really believe that my mothering is that important for them. I believe I should be doing better, greater things.

Soon she will wake and trot to find me. Lifting her arms she will want to rest in mine till she is fully awake, planning her afternoon. Soon, he will rouse and I will hear him chewing on that pacifier. When I walk into the room, he will bounce and raise his arms. Smiling to be lifted out of bed, ready to find something else to study.

And I will continue, dinner, dishes, picking up and putting away, dog in and out, husband home. Maybe the mitts to finish. Perhaps the homeschooling book to read. It is a far cry from the plans of medical missions I had when entering college, or the change the world teacher I was trained to be leaving college.

Now, I am concerned with organic milk, cooking from scratch, and making baby food. We watch documentaries. I read parenting books. I write a silly blog few people read.

Maybe mother isn't an apology. What if I could learn to say, I'm a mom. without needing to use the tone, or without needing to add the other things I do?

But today, I'm not feeling it.

Content

Baby determination
The schedule that makes her feel safe
Flashlights for hunting
Dog tongue finding baby crumbs

Sweeper tube turned toy
Nativity for play
The ingredients for coconut cake
Sweets from a giving heart

Work to be done
A body that can complete the work
Play
Strength for the play.

For Widows and Orphans

***Update--I called the agency who was working to place this little guy and found out that there are many families lining up to take him home. Let us pray for guidance and wisdom for his case worker. Let us pray too for the transition time that awaits him and his new family.***

I cried to Chris this morning, and I laid awake in that praying/worry state last night.

I promise I am just praying for him to find a home.

It is the time of year for Christmas music. And we have a wonderful CD with this song.



I listen and listen and I cry. This year I decided that I must do something. I am going to pray for God to give these children dear to him homes. Each week a different child.

So I promised myself that right now my service to those waiting for families would be to pray. And I found one to pray for, and I fell in love with his little face.

And so I cry to Chris, I promise I am just praying for him to find a home. I'm not trying to hijack you.

Or you all.

But I feel I just ask that you too pray for him to find a home. Please, God wants each of us to have a family, He wants us all to care.

Colors

Thought I would share some of the colors of the day.

White-falling continuously and needing shoveling. Donning snowpants, coat, hat and mittens.

Red-the tops of my feet in the shower.

Pink-Simon falling into a chair on his way to the stairs. I think Abigail may have helped.

Tan-initial ornaments. Applesauce and cinnamon (and flour for the fragrance induced headache prone among us.) Abigail excited about making something for those she loves.

Grey white-walls going up with the help of a friend. A bedroom nearing completion.

Metallic Grey-new kitchen faucet needed because the old kitchen faucet was faulty.

I Call Him "Little Man"

I wonder why it is that I refer to Simon as a small adult male human, but never refer to Abigail as "Little Woman."

Anyway here are three of my recent favorites of Simon C.





His You're Not Feeding Me Fast Enough Face
Who, I ask, can take this face seriously?

I get so tickled by the face. I start laughing and feed him even slower. It backfires.

Light

I look for the stars. Watch the rise and set of greater and lesser light. Marvel at the universe on fire.




We sting lights. Needles, branches, ornaments illumined. Corner sparkles where tree is set.


I light candles. Signal time together. Adding warmth, joy, intimacy to the time together.

All to remember the true Light. He who created light. He who illuminates, chasing darkness. He who warms hearts made cold, grants joy to hearts broken. King who comes desiring intimacy with the poor.

Falling Asleep

Simon flings his ankles to his ears sucking the pacifier furiously as the blanket is draped over him. Flinging himself to his side reveals his back and causes the blanket to cover most of his face. His eyes roll back in his head as his eyelids droop till heavy he heaves a sigh and resigns himself to sleep. He doesn't fight it. He gets tired and wants to go to sleep. He has developed a routine. He goes with it.

Abigail loads her arms with whatever she might need to stay entertained. She asks for songs and tucking and more water. She visits the living room till she knows another staying-awake trot will land her in serious trouble. She pulls books from the bookshelf covering her bed, surrounding herself with stuff. It is a war, an all-out fight. Inevitably she loses, collapsing blankets draped willy-nilly, legs or head precariously near the edge, heavy, deep breaths. She has developed a routine. Sleep pursues; she flees till sleep overtakes.

How I love them in the very differences that make them who they each are. What a privilege to mother them, to know these two who God has poured His creative energy in that I may be blessed to share their lives.

It Has Always Been, It Is Now, It Is to Come

We've been working through this Advent with a Jesse Tree. And I am struck with a simple reminder.

God has always been the Savior.
In all the stories.

Cursed is the ground. Difficult are your relationships. Hard is your work.
Yet, Adam and Eve are spared.
The deep was opened. The rains came. 40 days. 40 nights. Mountains were covered.
Yet,God closed the door. God remembered Noah.
Pharaoh's home infected.
Yet, Abraham leaves wealthy. Sarah's virtue intact.

I see the Savior nestled in a manger. I hear the prophesies--Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Prince of Peace. I know the story. Mary heavy with child travels with Joseph. Bethlehem. Wise men. Angels. Shepherds.

Immanuel.

I see God doing His work. Salvation imparted over and over to the moment of incarnation. Salvation completed in resurrected God-man returning for His own. Still we wait. Every day advent.

Saturday Snow

This morning it was snowing. This afternoon it was snowing. We had stew for lunch so we could

Go Sledding

Belated

Dearest Abigail,

This year went so quickly. From three to four. You have changed so much. I love you so deeply.

Your personality is blossoming. I am getting to know you. The you God created you to be. It is fun to watch you grow.

You bless my life.

Happy Birthday, my girl.



Love,
Mommy

When to Quit

I knew when I was pregnant with Abigail that I would be a stay-at-home mom. It had been in the plans. It was why I was able to work part-time in a job that I was passionate about. It was why we were careful to live on Chris's paychecks.
I planned to volunteer at the place I had worked. Having a baby didn't mean that I couldn't still be involved in the community. It didn't mean that I couldn't maintain relationships with the children I had spent three years with.

Did it?

Yes, I learned It did mean that I couldn't come back. I had been in charge. The kids saw me as the authority, the expert, the final say. My presence in that building made my replacement's job more difficult. It made the transition more difficult for the kids. It made my decision to leave more difficult.
I couldn't go back and not be in charge. I compared. I made judgments. I worried over what was no longer mine to worry over. And I felt guilty for leaving when the next person was doing things that I saw as very wrong. I'm not even claiming that they were wrong, but that I viewed what they were doing as wrong, or not the best.

I am in the middle again. Recently, the leader of an organization I am a part of stepped down. A new woman is in charge. More recently, I abdicated my role in the leadership of the organization. And I find myself in the same position. And doing the same things.

How do you know when it is time to retire more than your leadership?

What Happens

when you go to your parent's house for four days
then go to your in-laws house for Thanksgiving day
then drive back to your parent's to cut up a deer
then travel four hours east for a nephew's birthday and dedication
then travel back to your parent's house to pick up the dog

Posting goes out the window.
and

the house becomes a disaster while unloading
children are a mess
phone calls must be made and returned

and
your mother calls wondering why you haven't posted
worried that something must be wrong.

Perhaps that is a downside to regular, daily posting. Hmmmm.