The hubs and I celebrated 10 years of marriage on May 1. TEN YEARS. A decade of loving, fighting, crying, laughing, shopping, watching TV, eating meals, budgeting (uuuggggghhhh...), vacationing, dreaming, and just general hanging out. And I still like him. In fact, I think I like him more now than when I first met him. Lucky guy. Lucky girl.
For our anniversary, he whisked me away to a little cabin by Lake Buchanan. We had 3 days of just us and the baby. One day, love, we'll make it away without any little people. I promise.
While Dave was fishing from the dock one day I wrote this about him. He said I could share it here.
He rinses his hands in the lake. Nightcrawler guts floating away. He stoops low to secure the line and balance the weights, rising only when things as just so. More rinsing of the hands, shaking them dry, arms flung wide in the same way I've watched for a decade of days. Effortlessly he casts the line, glances about at the methodically rippling water and places his left foot ahead of his stance - knee slightly bent, relaxed and completely absorbed in his surroundings. He takes that stance often - relaxed, absorbed, 100% present and enjoying his current moment. The morning sun against his white shirt make his shoulders to look broader than usual. That or I'm fully embracing the weight those shoulders bear. They must be broad, broad and strong lest they collapse beneath the load.
He climbs on a docked boat that isn't ours. "Rules are for the obedience of fools and the guidance of wise men." (Douglas Bader, WWII pilot) Always pushing the limits, he would rather ask forgiveness than permission. The beauty in his rebellion is that ask for forgiveness he would - with a depth of sincerity and honesty you'd never think he even meant to push the boundary. I can nearly hear his mind pondering, exacting, figuring and crunching. It does this even as he sleeps - a mind so at work and so at peace that it finds the solutions for him while he dreams. The man though, the physical body of this man relishes rest - peace, down time. If his head rests on any surface of any kind for more than a few moments, you can bet he's asleep. Brain at work, body at rest. There was a time I prided myself in this man who had no enemies - "everyone loves Dave." He could punch you in the gut; deliver the worst blow and yet he still seemed to be adored by all. I've grown to realize the naiveté of my pride. That was a man who valued peace over truth. Now stands before a man who values peace but not at the expense of truth. Truth now comes from his lips laced and marinated in peace. He still has few enemies but not because he isn't speaking his mind and heart - he's just doing it in a new way. But make no mistake, if grace can be extended and grievances overlooked, he will always take that road. And I am better for it.
Strong.
Capable.
Educated in the things of the world that matter.
A dreamer who always manages to keep his feet on the ground.
A father who rises early and rests late for the good of those he leads.
A husband willing to bear more that I may live less taxed.
This is my love and I am thankful for him.
Friday, June 13, 2014
Thursday, June 12, 2014
The Condemnation Curve
A striking thought hit me the other day. My children were watching Frozen....again....for the 9 millionth time...this week.....(an exaggeration of course...or is it?) Anyway, I wondered what the true average screen time is for kids out there these days. I mean if we mamas were all really honest about the numbers, what it would be? And then (as my mind often does) I started thinking about all the things that I want an average for when it comes to my kids...
Height, Weight, head circumference?
Sugar intake?
How many times a day is this kid supposed to eat (cause good gracious she's like a vacuum mixed with a goat lately)?
Outside playtime?
Social interaction with other kids?
Sleeping?
Fruits & Veggies?
Counting? ABC's? Phonics?!
Smoothies?
Bacon?....Maybe that one was for me? :-)
I just want to know what all the other mama's out there are doing and if I'm "lining" up with the norm. I want a scale, a ruler, to see if I'm doing ok at this molding-of-little-lives-gig. And if I'm not, maybe I should call in the cavalry. Seek advice. GET. HELP. Because sweet Lord they watched a little too much Frozen this week and I posted about those suckers they ate in the grocery store. And I'm pretty sure I'm not giving each of them enough Independent Playtime or face time or quiet time or sensory activities.....and...and...and...You're just raising a generation of lazy, under stimulated, sugar addicted couch potatoes!!!
And then....Jesus. "There is no condemnation..."
And I realized all the other mama's out there are asking the same questions. We all want the same scale. The same stamp of approval from all the others who don't have the answers either. We read the books and the articles and all the things hoping that we are measuring up to the standard that some person who isn't the parent of these children decided was where they needed to be on that all-condemning "curve."
I'm pretty sure no one goes to college still needing a diaper at night or still wanting their paci. But the condemnation we put on ourselves if our children aren't meeting those arbitrary "shouldn't need that anymore" timeframes are rendering us full of guilt and anxiety.
Be free, mama. Be free that the Creator of the heavens and the earth, the one who set planets in orbit and created life from dust gave these children to your care. YOUR. CARE. You partnered with Him and created a life that He has given you charge over. Trust your gut. Trust your instincts. Strive to be a better mother to ever-growing and developing children. Strive to challenge their minds and hearts and imaginations. Get outside your comfort zone with food, activities, books, and adventures. But never let the curve get so into your psyche that you miss the joy of having these tiny people by your side. Your son WILL learn to go poo-poo in the potty. One day, your daughter will...God help us all...eat those vegetables. That paci will eventually find it's way to the trash and the toddler will stop eating chalk and sand. But the memory of your 3 year old naming herself Elsa, her sister Anna, her mother Olaf and her father Sven...and then calling all of you that for the rest of the car ride...will live on in the warmest of places in your heart.
Height, Weight, head circumference?
Sugar intake?
How many times a day is this kid supposed to eat (cause good gracious she's like a vacuum mixed with a goat lately)?
Outside playtime?
Social interaction with other kids?
Sleeping?
Fruits & Veggies?
Counting? ABC's? Phonics?!
Smoothies?
Bacon?....Maybe that one was for me? :-)
I just want to know what all the other mama's out there are doing and if I'm "lining" up with the norm. I want a scale, a ruler, to see if I'm doing ok at this molding-of-little-lives-gig. And if I'm not, maybe I should call in the cavalry. Seek advice. GET. HELP. Because sweet Lord they watched a little too much Frozen this week and I posted about those suckers they ate in the grocery store. And I'm pretty sure I'm not giving each of them enough Independent Playtime or face time or quiet time or sensory activities.....and...and...and...You're just raising a generation of lazy, under stimulated, sugar addicted couch potatoes!!!
And then....Jesus. "There is no condemnation..."
And I realized all the other mama's out there are asking the same questions. We all want the same scale. The same stamp of approval from all the others who don't have the answers either. We read the books and the articles and all the things hoping that we are measuring up to the standard that some person who isn't the parent of these children decided was where they needed to be on that all-condemning "curve."
I'm pretty sure no one goes to college still needing a diaper at night or still wanting their paci. But the condemnation we put on ourselves if our children aren't meeting those arbitrary "shouldn't need that anymore" timeframes are rendering us full of guilt and anxiety.
Be free, mama. Be free that the Creator of the heavens and the earth, the one who set planets in orbit and created life from dust gave these children to your care. YOUR. CARE. You partnered with Him and created a life that He has given you charge over. Trust your gut. Trust your instincts. Strive to be a better mother to ever-growing and developing children. Strive to challenge their minds and hearts and imaginations. Get outside your comfort zone with food, activities, books, and adventures. But never let the curve get so into your psyche that you miss the joy of having these tiny people by your side. Your son WILL learn to go poo-poo in the potty. One day, your daughter will...God help us all...eat those vegetables. That paci will eventually find it's way to the trash and the toddler will stop eating chalk and sand. But the memory of your 3 year old naming herself Elsa, her sister Anna, her mother Olaf and her father Sven...and then calling all of you that for the rest of the car ride...will live on in the warmest of places in your heart.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Jesus lives in my house
Jesus lives in my house.
He builds blocks. He plays with trains. He wanders from room to room.
Jesus lives in my house.
He holds her and rubs her hair until she falls asleep. He tells her she needs to sleep so she'll have energy to play tomorrow.
Jesus lives in my house.
He builds forts. He drinks tea. He stands in doorways waiting for her.
Jesus lives in my house.
When she needs to talk to Him, He always seems to be outside. He helps her be obedient. He helps her learn her numbers.
Jesus lives in my house.
These are all things my eldest has told me of Jesus. My first inclination was to smile warmly at her "imagination." Then I thought better. My prayer has always been that He will dwell here. That His spirit will be felt and His peace would reign. We have soaked in "The Jesus Storybook Bible" until she can "read" right along with us. And it seems that someone is indeed living in my house.
Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 19:14
Friday, June 6, 2014
Our trip to the grocery...
So I did something mildly crazy yesterday. I loaded up my crew and took them all.....ya ready for this?.....grocery shopping.
Did you hear the gears that keep the earth spinning screeching to a halt?
Praise Jesus for the car cart. And for buddy bucks. And suckers. And iPhones. And all the things I swore I would never allow my child to ride on, have, do, or eat.
I would never had done it except that I was missing at least one ingredient from every single meal idea I could think of, right down to peanut butter and jelly or scrambled eggs (no bread...or eggs for that matter).
Our local grocery has these rockin' "car carts." They seat two children, look like cars and have steering wheels. They are awesome. It's like navigating the titanic around an iceberg, but it works and seats two so I'm good to go. The littlest was in my Ergo carrier having gas...so in we went....me doing this total mommy walk/bounce combo trying to shake the gas out of the baby with the girls in their car cart enjoying suckers. Yep. I did it. I gave my children suckers to make it through the trip. No shame in my game, people.
So, there I was, having bounced by way through produce, meats, cheeses, and nearing the end of the cereal aisle when a fresh, blonde haired, joyful looking, 40's-ish woman turned the corner. You know the moment - you come out the end of an aisle with your cart while she's doing the same, nearly collide, yada yada....Anyway, she caught a glimpse of my all-kinds-of-crazy and lit up. Her eyes got bigger, her eyebrows raised and the most inviting and warm smile spread across her face.
"What an absolutely lovely family!" she slowly and genuinely remarked, staring first at the girls then catching my eye. She was followed by 4 children all in their tween and teen years. They too slowed their pace to talk and smile with my bunch.
Of course, my mama heart rejoiced that someone found my children adorable. (Well, they ARE!) But more than a prideful swell of happiness, I felt relief. Relief that someone...ANYONE...found joy in the three of the most joyful pieces of my life. Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for approval. I love my kids and my family and we do our thing regardless of what's going on around us. But, when you are a mama of a lot of littles and you venture out anywhere alone with them, you generally get sideways don't-look-her-in-the-eye glances, the pitied half-smile, the wide-eyed what-the-ish-were-you-thinking-lady, or the parting of the red sea so you can get the Titanic car cart through with all the tiny human hair and arms and legs and books and snacks dangling over the edges...and that's IF the baby isn't crying. If he's crying, we just got launched into a whole new arena of looks, stares, and other shoppers stopping dead in their tracks.
But this woman? This woman had joy. Her children shared it. She was so thrilled to see me doing my mama thing and my children...my sweet, blessed, innocent, arrows-in-the-hand-of-a-warrior children doing theirs.
So, to the lady at the end of the cereal aisle...Thank You. Thank you for taking the time to show me how you really feel about mama's and their littles, because that kind of joy can't be faked. And the fact that you have passed it on to your children means you genuinely live it everyday. You see children as a blessing and by smiling and encouraging my heart, you helped me to see it too. Sometimes wrangling my herd feels overwhelming, and I don't always see them as the blessings they are in those moments. But your kindness reminded me.
And to you, sweet reader, when you see that mama of all the small ones tossing iPhones and candy and books and whatever else she can at her children to keep them occupied, don't judge her. Instead, give her a joyful smile and encouraging word. You might just be talking to me.
Did you hear the gears that keep the earth spinning screeching to a halt?
Praise Jesus for the car cart. And for buddy bucks. And suckers. And iPhones. And all the things I swore I would never allow my child to ride on, have, do, or eat.
I would never had done it except that I was missing at least one ingredient from every single meal idea I could think of, right down to peanut butter and jelly or scrambled eggs (no bread...or eggs for that matter).
Our local grocery has these rockin' "car carts." They seat two children, look like cars and have steering wheels. They are awesome. It's like navigating the titanic around an iceberg, but it works and seats two so I'm good to go. The littlest was in my Ergo carrier having gas...so in we went....me doing this total mommy walk/bounce combo trying to shake the gas out of the baby with the girls in their car cart enjoying suckers. Yep. I did it. I gave my children suckers to make it through the trip. No shame in my game, people.
"What an absolutely lovely family!" she slowly and genuinely remarked, staring first at the girls then catching my eye. She was followed by 4 children all in their tween and teen years. They too slowed their pace to talk and smile with my bunch.
Of course, my mama heart rejoiced that someone found my children adorable. (Well, they ARE!) But more than a prideful swell of happiness, I felt relief. Relief that someone...ANYONE...found joy in the three of the most joyful pieces of my life. Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for approval. I love my kids and my family and we do our thing regardless of what's going on around us. But, when you are a mama of a lot of littles and you venture out anywhere alone with them, you generally get sideways don't-look-her-in-the-eye glances, the pitied half-smile, the wide-eyed what-the-ish-were-you-thinking-lady, or the parting of the red sea so you can get the Titanic car cart through with all the tiny human hair and arms and legs and books and snacks dangling over the edges...and that's IF the baby isn't crying. If he's crying, we just got launched into a whole new arena of looks, stares, and other shoppers stopping dead in their tracks.
But this woman? This woman had joy. Her children shared it. She was so thrilled to see me doing my mama thing and my children...my sweet, blessed, innocent, arrows-in-the-hand-of-a-warrior children doing theirs.
So, to the lady at the end of the cereal aisle...Thank You. Thank you for taking the time to show me how you really feel about mama's and their littles, because that kind of joy can't be faked. And the fact that you have passed it on to your children means you genuinely live it everyday. You see children as a blessing and by smiling and encouraging my heart, you helped me to see it too. Sometimes wrangling my herd feels overwhelming, and I don't always see them as the blessings they are in those moments. But your kindness reminded me.
And to you, sweet reader, when you see that mama of all the small ones tossing iPhones and candy and books and whatever else she can at her children to keep them occupied, don't judge her. Instead, give her a joyful smile and encouraging word. You might just be talking to me.
Monday, June 2, 2014
Sippy Cups and Crosses
January 12, 2011
January 10, 2013
February 18, 2014
Three of the most revolutionary days of my existence.
And I know the days go quickly.
And I forget.
So, here's the real deal. A glimpse into my world in pictures.
Little handprints cover all of the surfaces...
where the crumbs don't fall.
Painted works remind of little hands that grow too fast...
boosters that will all too soon be no longer needed.
Watching the wonder of nature, growth and rebirth
The big one's littlest hands...
grasp and pour and spill and laugh and relish the joys.
As I sit at the feet of those who've walked these roads before...
and I strive to walk hand in hand not toe to toe.
I pray for safety and wisdom and grace and words
And enjoy these days of sippy cups and crosses.
Regardless of the stress I'm under, most days I'm managing blessings ~Lysa Terkeurst
Sunday, June 1, 2014
It's been a while...
Almost 3 years since I last posted here. Reading back over some of the old blogs, I'm struck with the changes I have gone through. 3 children in 3 years and a community that will help you press into the Lord when you have no strength left will do that to you. Astounding how my worldview has changed. I continue to stand amazed at the Lord's redemption, refinement and re-development of His own.
I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. ~ Ezekiel 36:26
After some encouraging from those dear to me, my hands rest again on black keys. I have recently come to the realization that I must write. It's not for the reader that I put letters into print, but for myself. As a mother of three under three, it's one of the very few things I've identified that I do solely for myself. Even showering feels like it's for the benefit of those around me most days. (Mama's, I know you feel me.)
My days are filled with words. Words pour from my lips all day. All. Day. Long. The children make sure of it. Bless them. Sometimes the Lord graces my tongue like rich red wine being poured. It rolls around the glass smooth and inviting. Other times words tumble clumsy, like milk gone bad, clumpy and foul. But the words pour none the less.
But only when I sit alone, still and quiet long enough to dig through the diapers and sippy cups and crumbled goldfish crackers do the words become alive. My heart pounds a little harder, my mind frantically searching for the right combination of text to express what the mind's eye can see. It's in these moments of solace that I can get the thoughts and ideas out. That the things I think finally begin to make sense and clarity can be grasped. The thoughts don't fully make sense until they come out through my hands. What a realization. What grace. I believe I have finally found my place of rest. And it is in words.
I'm not completely sure that I will continue to blog here amongst these old ponderings. They just aren't me anymore, but they got me to where I am today. Stay tuned...and thanks for reading.
I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. ~ Ezekiel 36:26
After some encouraging from those dear to me, my hands rest again on black keys. I have recently come to the realization that I must write. It's not for the reader that I put letters into print, but for myself. As a mother of three under three, it's one of the very few things I've identified that I do solely for myself. Even showering feels like it's for the benefit of those around me most days. (Mama's, I know you feel me.)
My days are filled with words. Words pour from my lips all day. All. Day. Long. The children make sure of it. Bless them. Sometimes the Lord graces my tongue like rich red wine being poured. It rolls around the glass smooth and inviting. Other times words tumble clumsy, like milk gone bad, clumpy and foul. But the words pour none the less.
But only when I sit alone, still and quiet long enough to dig through the diapers and sippy cups and crumbled goldfish crackers do the words become alive. My heart pounds a little harder, my mind frantically searching for the right combination of text to express what the mind's eye can see. It's in these moments of solace that I can get the thoughts and ideas out. That the things I think finally begin to make sense and clarity can be grasped. The thoughts don't fully make sense until they come out through my hands. What a realization. What grace. I believe I have finally found my place of rest. And it is in words.
I'm not completely sure that I will continue to blog here amongst these old ponderings. They just aren't me anymore, but they got me to where I am today. Stay tuned...and thanks for reading.
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