:on plans and friendship:

it wasn't part of my plan, that college, in that state, so many years ago. i have a friend that says, "everything happens for a reason." we tease him, lovingly, for his optimistic point of view. i'm more of the perspective that things happen and there is much to be learned in all circumstances.

from the circumstances that lead me to that school and the things that happened there after, i learned a lot. it was in that year that god stopped being the god of my mom and my church and became my own. it was in that year that i learned to lean on jesus and began to live in his ways the best i knew how.

at the time this included becoming a small group leader on my hall, encouraging a few girls throughout the week and leading a small bible study in my dorm. looking back i now see how this paved the way for the girls bible study held in my home years later. a study that welcomed girls from all over, churched and unchurched, to hang and learn about life and friendship and jesus.

this learning to live like jesus also lead me on two short term mission trips. the first to an impoverished part of mexico which was life changing. the second, a trip to australia, which turned out out to be more of a vacation. still i learned, jesus can meet you anywhere. he met me half way around the world that summer, through ruth. she was an amazing teenage girl, with blonde hair and a contagious smile. she also turned out to be the only follower of christ in her home, enduring a lot of scrutiny from her family and friends because of her profession of faith. yet to her, it was worth it. to me, an ear mark of devotion to jesus.

the other thing that happened in that year, at that college, in that state, was meeting krissy. upon first meeting her i did not think, hey/ she's my lobster. (you can find this reference here and here) i did think, she needs a new hair stylist and in my sincerest form of snobbery that i have since out grown, i hope she doesn't think we are going to be friends. yet friends we became. BEST friends

she got engaged first. married first. became a mother first. she has been my loving-jesus-with-skin-on-guide for this journey called life. our husbands are best buds. our children are best buds. and there are very few fourth of july's and new years eve's that we haven't spent together over the last seventeen years. i cannot say enough good about her. she is gracious and kind and always gives others the benefit-of-the-doubt.

after a year of missed visits our schedules finally coordinated. we met at chic-fil-a to have lunch and let the children play. you never know how these things will go. we found ourselves chatting the hours away while the oldest five played pleasantly. they played for three hours. THREE HOURS! 

on the drive home i thought about the gift of our friendship and the leading role it has played in our lives and is now playing in the lives of our children. they are friends, loving and true because we are friends, loving and true. they will be what they see. amen.


*linking up with carissa

:happiness can be found in this one thing:

the wind blew gently through her hair. the hair that hasn't been brushed yet but still looks perfect. i notice that one curl on the side. it holds tight when the others fall lazily into waves, golden brown. she sat across from me, knees pulled to her chest. i remember sitting like that as a girl. now three babies down and thirty years passed and there is no comfort in the awkward contortions of childhood. 

she's upset. 

she's pouting.

i speak gently, you're missing it, coop. we call her coop. short for her middle name cooper. she looks over and her eyes big and a perfect shade of sea green in the morning light. every day she asks, what color are my eyes today, mama? she has hazel eyes. the kind that change depending on what she's wearing and maybe how she's feeling, who can say.

i continue to point out a few of the things that are going on while she's focusing on that thing. the thing that took her to a place of discontentment. as the words roll off my tongue i feel a stirring in my own heart. a mirror of sorts. 

discontentment. 

it reaches to the young and old, alike. 

thankfulness fills the void of discontentment. she is learning this lesson slowly, just like her mama. quietly she stares off and i wonder what she's thinking. i start to go inside and she asks me to stay a little longer, so i do. there are no words between us but we both know peace in the presence of those who love us in the midst of the ugly. 

"man's happiness really lies in contentment"

-gandhi

amen.

:thoughts on motherhood // doing life together:

these are the days of cheerios and peanut butter and jelly, afternoon snacks and dinners half eaten. days of 7am wake up calls in the form of little ones with empty bellies. babies that reside on the hips of their mamas, while one handed tasks are mastered. these are the days of laundry that is never done and sinks rarely empty.

full days.
good and bad days.
the you-don't-have-to-do-it-alone-days.

we were made for community and doing life together. we were made for full kitchens and friends that know exactly where to find the silverware drawer. we were made for carrying each other burdens and babies on our shoulders.

i started pulling out plates from the cabinet with a clatter as little ones ran in and out of the door, not one remembering to shut it behind them. i looked around missing baby girl and found her held tight in the arms of my friend. she swayed back and forth as mamas do, letting my girl and the one that grows in her belly bond.

conversations went from schooling to housing to food and life with lots of babies in tow. our talks were interrupted and unfinished, as expected with eight little ones at foot. we pushed babies five deep on that old metal swing set. their smiles as wide as the ocean blue. wind sweeping locks of golden brown, red and blonde, to and fro.

disputes were settled and boo-boos were kissed.
small tokens were exchanged among friends as we said our good-byes.

when everyone was gone and the house back in order, our bodies fell heavy into the beanbags on the living room floor as we relished in the goodness of doing life together.




*joining emily for imperfect prose

:learning to walk in His word:

she wakes in the night, calls my name in despair. the calling bursts into my dreams and drags me out by my collar. i hop out of bed, one eye open, making my way to her. with sleep still in my eyes, i lay her down and stroke her temple, the one that proclaims youth, not a wrinkle or ripple in sight. i whisper when i am afraid i will trust in you, when i am afraid i will trust in you. a reminder of His presence in the darkness.

they are best friends today, right now, for the moment. the sun pours out its warmth declaring spring as the march wind blows their hair to and fro. i'm amazed at how much they love those rag dolls hand crafted by me. they hold them by the arms, swinging them around until they fall down breathless and dizzy.

the boy runs in to bring me a bouquet of freshly picked flowers. weeds have never looked so beautiful. i tell him he is shining like a star with his joyous spirit.

later things take a turn, as they often do. hunger and fatigue set in after a hard mornings play, which lead to squabbles and raised voices. i say aloud, who's going to be my peacemaker? 

she struggles with her studies. it's too hard, i can't do it. i pull her close and say, with god all things are possible.

we are learning His words and how they fit into our everyday lives. sometimes we cling to them, live by them, proclaim them. other times we know what we ought to do and fail to do it.

as a reminder to us we are using these scripture memory cards to learn & live in His word.

you can purchase the cards at The Lovely Words.


*just writing with Heather

:on hanging on & letting go:

let go of her.

please do not jump on the furniture.

no yelling.

do not throw that again.

use kind words.

who's going to be my peacemaker?

after repeating these phrases numerous times and storing so many toys in time out i lost count, i pulled out some paints and paper for the little ones as a buffer of sorts. change in direction, much needed. while they immersed themselves in color and creativity, i opened my graph lined composition notebook and began writing. messy, hardly legible, pouring out. 

as eisley doodled little fairy girls, with curly-cue hair, durgin drove his cars on a freshly drawn road, complete with trees, lakes and stop signs. peace fell heavy as pen scratched paper. eisley must have heard the sound, for she asked, what are you doing mama? 

i stopped writing and looked into her big, round eyes and said, this is my journal. this is where i write what's on my heart. i read an entry aloud telling of how she shared with her brother unprompted and blessed him in a special way. i explained that i write the hard things too, like when i yell or mess up as a mommy. she looked me straight in the eyes and said,

             "hang onto the good, let go of the bad."

a smile made it's way across my face, as my heart filled up with joy. she gave me a knowing look. the kind that understands she just made my day. then she shrugged shoulders, like what, no big deal and returned to her art.

so today, let us hang onto the good, letting go of the bad. 

*just writing with heather

:well that was awkward:

it's so awkward to talk about yourself. to actually disclose your likes and dislikes, peeves and delights. yet here i am in this space pouring out regularly for all to see. a while back the amazing emily shared a few things about herself and encouraged me to do the same. so now you have it.

on my love for books
there was this one time i attended a bible/book study at a friends house. it was a ragamuffin group of married women, me being the only newlywed. i delighted in the thoughts of immersing myself in the company of women further along in their journey of love and marriage. i remember very little from that night. only the words one woman said to me, of my love for books, just wait until you have babies, then you won't have time for that. 

i left a tad discouraged but am happy to say that babies have not detoured my love for the written word. i read every single day. even if it's only a couple of pages, i manage to squeeze them in, in between diaper changes, games of hide and seek and meals. if you're interested in the books i have loved or am currently reading, check out what's on my bookshelf.

on my love for music
we listen to music most of the day around our home. mumford & sons, sufjan stephens (children's) and veggietales are all kid friendly stations on pandora radio. when we are having dinner guests i usually go for a more mellow vibe like billie holiday or frank sinatra station. my guilty pleasure stations for working out or cleaning house are workout radio, jay-z or justin bieber.

my husband and i love to play "the radio game" when we are driving somewhere, just the two of us. we hit scan and whoever can name the band before it switches gets a point. the first person to ten wins! i always win. ::wink wink::

on my love for movies
we recently watched the perks of being a wallflower and that may very well be my new all-time favorite movie. it was brilliantly written and brought a different side to high school drama that is often portrayed. we all struggle with something. we all have vices. the line "we accept the love we think we deserve" penetrated my soul and led me to some serious contemplation.

on my love for the lovely words
words are powerful. they hold the power to build up or destroy. words truly are like honey sweet to the soul and healthy to the body. with that in mind i opened a new shop giving me the chance to pour lovely words into the world. prints to create art walls or just a reminder for your desk or a gift for a friend. let us live in the loveliness of words.

now please, tell me something about you!

*linking up with carissa for miscellany monday

:on raising your hands in worship:

growing up southern baptist there is always the not-so-subtle "amen!" exclaimed during the preaching part of the service. i imagine an amen to the pastor may very well be what a comment is to a blogger. a there-you-go. go-on-ya. job-well-done. we all need that from time to time but i always found the yelling of a word during a church service more alarming than inspiring.

the same goes for raising hands in worship. i find myself looking around at who is raising their hands and thinking wow, they are really in tune with god. when i went away to college at a christian university my freshman year, we were required to attend convocation three times per week. there was always some sort of inspirational music and a speaker, some i enjoyed, some not so much. 

though it was more than fifteen years ago i can still see this girl so plainly in my memory. she had long flowing hair, wavy, unkept. she wore broom skirts, actually ALL girls wore skirts even in 20 degree weather and snow, thank you very much legalism. either way she wore broom skirts and had a gypsy feel to her right down to her name, joy. 

joy was flamboyant, a free spirit of sorts. during the inspirational music, no matter the song, she stood arms high, swaying in rhythm to the music,  much like Neil saying, "tay in a win." i don't remember any musical performances from that year. none. not one. i only remember joy raising her hands in worship. 

i tried it once. moved by the words of Shout to the Lord, i found myself in the midst of hundreds of students, lifting my hands to the sky. there i was standing hands raised eyes closed and all i could think was does this look right? am i keeping time? it's hard to keep time with your eyes closed. am i squinting? people truly worshipping don't squint. oh no, i'm sweating! can anyone see me sweating? dear lord, when will this song be over? i can't put my hands down before the song ends, what message will that send?

needless to say i have continued in my journey of worship and praise without raising my hands. that is until i heard these words:

so break my step and relent

you forgave and i won't forget.... 

raise my hands 

paint my spirit gold and bow my head 

keep my heart slow

yes, to these words, i lifted hands high in between drumming beats on the steering wheel in time to the rhythm that moves my soul. i did not ask the questions above. they were unnecessary for there was only an audience of One. 

:the only option is to overflow:

saturdays are family days start to finish around here. the sun fills the sky early with pink and purple swirls. the weather forecast speaks my love language with its promise of seventy degrees. we sipped our coffee as usual while the children enjoyed early morning television, a privilege saved for weekends.

i packed lunch for everyone while jacob loaded the van with bikes and helmets for our day at the park. the wind blustery, but the children didn't care. they delighted in the time to let loose and make new friends. eisley, my little extrovert, waves to another girl on a bicycle and says "you want to ride with me?" bold and loving, that one.

after hours of play we made our way home so the little ones could nap. if only they knew what a blessings naps can be. someday you will see, kiddos, someday. 

during nap eisley and i took off for mommy-daughter adventures. we spent time looking at plants and thinking about our garden to be planted soon. we have big plans for homesteading this summer. after perusing every single plant and flower she picked out a a special flower to bless someone we love.

next up, the coffee shop for treats. she spoke politely to the baristas and fell in love with the one wearing make-up. this girl loves some make-up, forever asking to add blush to those already perfectly colored cheeks.

we sat and talked, sharing stories. she loves for me to tell the same stories over and over again. like that one time i was playing with my friend in the garage and a snake slithered across the door. we were so afraid we screamed for our mommy's. they came to the rescue, chopping off that snakes head and we lived happily ever after. tell it again mommy, she will say. so i begin again.

i lost count of how many times she said, i love you mommy, while offering a bite of her marshmallow bar. taken back by her overflow of love and happiness i dwelled on those moments. i pondering them in my heart, as a mother does, until an epiphany of sorts arose. she pours out love because she feels love. 
she can't help it. she is so full, her only option is to overflow. 

i think of the number of times jesus spoke of love for others.
when we pour out love to those around us, they fill up and overflow and so on and so on.
"small things with great love," heaven to earth, amen.

let us be known by our love today.

*linking up with carissa for miscellany monday
*just writing with heather

:the one where i build an altar:

"life is either a daring adventure or nothing"

-helen keller

******

"the last place most people look (for adventure) is right under their feet, in the everyday activities, accidents and encounters of their lives. what possible spiritual significance could a trip to the grocery store have? how could something as common as a toothache be a door to greater life? 

 no one longs for what he or she already has, and yet the accumulated insight of those wise about the spiritual life suggests that the reason so many of us cannot see the red X that marks the spot is because we are standing on it. The treasure we seek requires no lengthy expedition, no expensive equipment, no superior aptitude or special company. all we lack is the willingness to imagine that we already have everything we need. the only thing missing is our consent to be where we are."

-barbara brown taylor, an altar in the world

there are times when snotty noses, dirty faces and sibling rivalry consume the days of motherhood. other times fading into books while snuggled under blankets or long walks and outdoor adventures rise high. 

some nights are full of whack-a-mole, repeated efforts to keep little ones in bed and off to sleep. other nights i sit next to that man that makes me swoon, listening to the conversation of little ones, unaware, host bedtime parties with the tune of happy birthday in unison as the dark creeps in.

daily i read things like this and this  and begin to question my role as a christ follower. i believe in the doing. i am compelled by the love that jesus exemplified during his life on earth. he loved the outcasts, broken and oppressed. he drew lines in the sand in defense of women. he washed dirty, stinky feet and filled hungry bellies. jesus was a do-er. he put his words into action. he lived out love.  poured it out, writing it in to existence with flesh and blood.

at times i have been so busy thinking of the more i should be doing that i forget to acknowledge the divine More sewn within the fabric of everyday moments. tiny specks in the broad spectrum of kingdom life overlooked.

so my loving the broken and and oppressed looks more like wrapping arms around weary mamas, encouraging them to press on. my lines in the sand look more like giving little girls the freedom to rise up and do great things. oh and i wash dirty stinky feet, the toes are simply smaller.  pleasure is found in filling hungry bellies and teaching them to do the same. so today i am building an altar in this place. this is my spot. this is my place, my treasure.

"altar :: ordinary-looking places where human beings have met and may continue to meet up with the divine More that they sometimes call god."

-barbara brown taylor, an altar in the world

join me, won't you, in recognizing the divine More in the every day.

:the one where we become Real:

the phone rang in the morning hours, i answered. her voice an indication of things unsettled, sadness billowing. a life lost. a vapor once seen, vanished.

the rain falls heavy, capturing my gaze. beckoning even.

i snuggled on the couch, under our favorite blanket gifted by mimi and papa. the velveteen rabbit on my lap. words jumped off the pages-

"he longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad. he wished that he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him."

life doesn't go as planned. uncomfortable things happen.

children tantrum through growth. babies aren't as healthy as we thought they would be. the parenting in which we thought we would master, suddenly becomes blurred. our stable ground starts to shake and those feet planted to firmly in belief, doubt.

life becomes uncomfortable, yet it is in the hard places that we grow. like a lone flower blooming in the crevices of a sidewalk. it is there in the unexpected places that we become Real.

*just writing with heather

:the one where i follow him in the joy and wreckage of life:

he shared from the heart about the love of god. spoke of forgiveness. like many others he emphasized the importance of leaving the past in the past. he gave an illustration of trying to drive while looking in the rearview mirror and how that would present itself difficult. so we should keep our eyes forward in life, not looking to the past.

move forward.
don't look back.
god has forgiven it, you need to forget it.

i've heard it a lot lately. when i hear it i think about my past. the ugly messy past. there were some rough patches, poor decisions and nasty consequences. parts of it erect pain. other parts, shame. yet i cannot leave it in the past. i cannot only look forward and move on. this is my story. the past, present and future. my story woven into his plans. he uses it all. i am who i am because of the past. in spite of it even.

the past shaped me.
the past influences the decisions i make today.
the past is still teaching me lessons.
the past created a heart of compassion for young people.
the past developed an undying love to my husband.
the past has helped me choose my friends wisely.
the past is teaching me to love a jesus-down-in-the-trenches kind of love.

the past plays a major role in my future....and maybe yours too.

forgiven? yes.
forgotten? no.

"churches should be places where people come to hear the story of god and to tell their own. that's how we find out how the two relate. tell your story with all of its shadows and fog, so people can understand their own. they want a leader who's authentic, someone trying to figure out how to follow the lord jesus in the joy and wreckage of life."

-chasing francis; a pilgrim's tale (ian morgan cron)

:the one where i confess the ugly:

last night i went to hear kathy escobar share her story. her smile radiates love and she bubbles over enthusiasm at the downward path, the road less traveled. the ugly-messy-beautiful road. the one of addiction to greatness and addiction to substance. both are crippling. both in need of acceptance and community.

kathy expressed the anger she experienced towards the church and her journey of rocking the boat.

as her words rolled out in her true california accent i felt a stirring in my soul. the truth is i'm angry at the church. not the body of christ but that church. the one that sent out the letter that shattered my heart into a million pieces. the one that told my friend he could not go before the church to publically apologize for mistakes made because that wouldn't look good. the one that told that fifteen year old boy he couldn't come back to youth group. the one that punished that girl for getting pregnant again.

 

 

 

When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” On hearing this, Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” matthew 9:11-13

 

the church is no longer welcoming for the sick and broken hearted. it has become a haven for the better and the best. there is no room for failure. you must look your best, serve your best and be your best at all times.

 

what happens when addiction creeps in?

what happens when marriages are in trouble?

what happens when someone gets pregnant?

 

more times than not, it is swept under the rug or pushed out the door.

 

 

i'm guilty of hiding the pain, the past and avoiding those that expose it. it's hard to hear hurt, even harder to embrace it. yet that is consistently what jesus did.

While jesus was in one of the towns, a man came along who was covered with leprosy. When he saw jesus he fell and begged him, Lord if you are willing, you can make me clean. Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. "I am willing," he said, "Be clean!" luke 5:12-13

i read those words to eisley this week. i explained the cultures response to leprosy at that time. i explained that the man probably had not been able to go to church because he was considered unclean. her blue eyes welled with tears and she spoke the most profound words,

"mommy, if you had leprosy and couldn't go to church, i wouldn't go either."

jesus went down to the sick and hurting.
let it be so in my life.



 

 

 

 

:the one where it is so much more than coffee:

running late already i hop in the car and pull out my camera to check the settings as we drive. i forgot my memory card, goooo baaaaack! she whips into the next driveway turning around without one complaint. she knows my love affair with photographs. capturing moments. freezing time.

grande iced caramel macchiato please. i hand over both my arm and leg in exchange for a few sips of cold caffiene. instantly reminded of how i feel about spending that kind of money on coffee these days. i don't have to have it and actually like it better at home.

we pull two tables together and squeeze under the umbrella already in place to hide from the heat. friends arrive. we smile and hug and settle in to get aquainted. one tells us about her children and their latest antics and another does the same. we talk about cloth diapers and vacations and cooking. we laugh and sigh the sighs of i am not alone.

lives so different yet intersecting on the common ground of motherhood. no matter of left wing, right wing, believer, non-believer. simply mothers on a journey connecting over poop and breastmilk and coffee.

my head hit the pillow hard that night. i turned over the laughter and honesty shared, falling asleep thankful that where we are gathered together, He joins and blesses.

:the one where i come undone...again:

her milk doesn't run down her chin and pool around her neck anymore. she has hit her stride, growing full speed. she carries her weight in her thighs, you will battle that for eternity dear child, i know this all too well. though i am exceptionally thankful for wrinkles and rolls and a nice round face.

most days i think i am at peace. our jarius baby, causing my faith to both solidify and waver, with her entry and existence. the peeking in repeatedly is normal, right? doesn't every mother hover with one hand on their babies back to make sure air is inhaled and exhaled? she sleeps right beside my bed in her pack and play though the others moved to their own room at three months.

i have had bunk beds for the big kids since before she was born. just a little paint and another mattress and we are ready for the move. the big kids will share a room for a while so baby girl can have the nursery all to herself. i paint them slowly, with a shrug, it's hard to paint with little ones at my feet. they are still undone.

undone.

that's what i became once again last night. unsure exactly what brought me from my slumber but it did so in a frenzy. i heard something, grabbed her and yelled. how she didn't wake up screaming from my man-handling her i will never know. her skin was cool to touch from the coolness of the night and her body limp from dead-to-the-world sleep. she wiggled mid-air and grunted. i apologized to that sweet man of mine that tolerates the crazy so well and laid baby girl back to rest.

motherhood, you are both wonderful and terrifying.

making a decision to have a child is momentous. it is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside of your body.

-elizabeth stone

:the one where the rescued becomes the rescuer:

we met at the park, friends more than twenty years, hearding seven children under eight. we walked and talked, interrupted by no, no don't do that or lets go this way or why don't we...

the children were fascinated by the water knowing there were fish to be spotted. they got closer and closer. mostly worried about my little i'm-not-afraid-of-anything, lets-see-if-we-can-give-mommy-a-heart-attack, dude, i repeatedly warned him to be careful. i turned my head for a split second and looked up to see him falling in the water. thankfully he was in an area where the edge was shallow and had rocks and mostly sludge.

he was stuck, dirty and unhappy. none of the things i was hoping to accomplish on this adventure. i hoped for fun, friendship and laughter. i hoped for a great time, memories made and grateful hearts. i hoped for swinging and tree climbing.

the little man didn't listen. he did his own thing, marching to the beat of his own drum. he fell. he got stuck. he got dirty. he needed me to rescue him.

so i did.
i rescued him.
i cleaned him up.
i loved on him and sent him on his way.

just like the One who rescued me.




*linking up with carissa for miscellany monday
*linking up with ruth at the better mom

:the one where it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt:

he popped his blonde head up as soon as i opened the door, are we going to the post office and the park? yes, the post office then the park buddy. i promised an after nap adventure and an after nap adventure we would have topped with a little education. we've been studying community helpers and what better way to learn than to see the people and places in person.

the post office was tthe first stop. not an easy task with three little ones and not a task i normally look forward to. however, today i approached it as a learning experience. a sweet gentleman let me and my crew go ahead of him which i think he probably regretted quickly. the computer froze and would not process my shipment. of course no one behind me knew that. so that gentleman had to wait much longer than he anticipated.

we talked about community helpers and they asked the sweet lady behind the counter some questions and chatted with her daughter, a fifth grader, while we waited. they asked for snack about 350 times but maintained their composure, thank you jesus.

next up the park to see the ducks. they played and laughed and got entirely too close to the water giving me heart palpatations. i watched the older ones closely as i planned different rescue maneuvers in my mind in case they happened to fall in. not long into our adventure, the coopster spots a tree she simply must climb. the little dude and i plop down on a bench so he can finish his snack while baby girl just hangs out in the stroller. moments later eisley screams and comes over crying rubbing her chest and belly. she said she got stung by a bug so i go over to investigate. sure enough there was an odd spiny, tiny creature on the tree that she must have laid on while climbing. it was dead but one of the little spiny things went into her skin. she cried and cried and cried. she said things like:

i wish daddy were here.
why did you choose that tree?
why didn't you check to see if there were bugs on it?
i'm never coming to the park again.
i'm never climbing another tree again.

now this girl loves to climb trees. here she is climbing the tree at her grandparents house IN A DRESS. a dedicated tree climber indeed. but she got hurt. she was wounded doing something she loves. so she decided, if something i love can hurt me then i just won't love it anymore.

as i turned over the events of the day, i felt a heavy shift in my soul. i get it little one. my heart still hurts from wounds received throughout the years. yet, if i stopped loving all the things that hurt me i would love very little. i don't want to love little. i want to love much. so much it hurts.

yes, love so much it hurts. then love some more.

:the one where we are made for more:

the kettle whistles. i pick it up and move to the sink to pour steaming water over fresh coffee, my eyes scan our yard as i wait. i sigh. those darn weeds are growing in the play area again. the area we dug out carefully and covered with mulch for a nice appearance. the area where the slides and playhouse and sandbox reside. weeds. we pull and we spray and they go away for a bit but they always come back. this tending, it gets old.

you aren't welcome weeds, i think as i pull and pluck each one.

i keep a constant eye on that place. searching for any sign of weeds that may arise so that i can step in before there is a full fledged overtaking.

so familiar this turning of words and thoughts. so much like that place that harbors both beauty and bitterness. i tend and pull and tug and stand back admiring the cleanliness. moments later there it is, the ugly. so i tend and pull and tug some more.

constant this dance between forgiven and fallen.

then He whispers ever so quietly, you were made for more sweet child.

made for more.

made for beauty.
made for community.
made for motherhood.
made for love and love making.
made for encouraging and being encouraged.
made for showing forgiveness to a fallen world.
made for laughter and delight.
made for joy

made for more.



*just writing with heather today

:the best things in life:

she had long blonde hair. so long you imagine it never touched by scissors. a plain jane, this one, but lovely still. she sat in that corner metal chair rarely embarrassed to share her thoughts. somewhat adamant about her opinions. one encounter stands out in my mind though from many years ago. she came into sunday school and said the night before she bagged up nearly half of her belongings to donate. she said she had to, she felt so guilty about having so much when others had so little.

i stood there and thought, she's nuts. why would you bag up your stuff. i mean i know there are people who have less than me but i'm not giving away half of my stuff. who in the world would expect that of me?

***

i made a list in a pretty little notebook. a sucker for cute notebooks and great writing pens. every single room detailed of its excess. things to trash. things to donate. things to sell. room by room , purging. decluttering. though my mission is not spurred by guilt but by neccessity. less things mean less clutter. less clutter means less places for dirt to collect which means less cleaning for me. less clothing means less washing. less stuff means less distractions.

less cleaning, less washing and less distractions means more play, more snuggles, more adventures and more laughter with my family.

those little ones, they are watching. they know what's important to me by where i spend my time and resources. there is a good chance that i will rear children that are somehwat like me. if i think of people more highly than things, maybe they will too. if i use our resources to bless those around us, maybe they will too. if i place value on family and memories made rather than shopping and things obtained, maybe they will too.

the best things in life, aren't things at all, are they?



:the one with the changing seasons:

late night chatter with a friend brings back memories of when friendships first formed. dreams of a place for moms to be together and encourage one another. scripture was read with little ones at our feet, just one or two per mom. now some have two. some have three. conversations are rarely finished. thoughts hardly complete. yet the season holds such sweetness. a time of growth, comradery and encouragement more precious than any earthy possession.

seasons change.

fall can be felt in the cool night air. refreshing after so many hot summer nights. ten children among us now. public schooling, homeschooling and a longing for deeper relationships with Him take us on different paths. some go this way, some another. this breaking away is not personal. we do not battle flesh and blood. different desires bring about different choices.

his unfailing love washes over me reminding of his plans. the stars and sand tell how great is his love for us.

***

we laugh holding our coffee mugs, the fancy ones, warm with fresh coffee straight from the press. we catch up on family, work and our current obsession, Lost.

my heart longs for community, i tell her. my longing, no my calling, to be with and encourage other mothers on this journey. i talk about my search for a church to call home like that one when i was a little girl. she has a place and reflects on its blessing.

after many hours the sun is gone and so is our coffee. if it weren't for the tiny ones that need us before the sun rises i think we could have talked all night. we hug tight, thankful for friendship and coffee. yes coffee, that nectar that unites and awakens the soul, thank you jesus. we plan our sleep over to watch the series finale of this show that keeps me both confused and hooked. i close the door behind her and exhale. moments later i fall into my bed, soft and welcoming, with a full full heart.




*late to the party, just writing with heather

::the one where six months went too fast::

your daddy was off at the Wild Goose Festival when i realized you were on your way. i couldn't bring myself to tell him over the phone. i needed to see his expression and experience the joy of baby number three right with him. that man and me, we are thick as thieves you shall soon see little one.

you were my toughest pregnancy. i don't blame you. i blame age and gravity. yes they are defnitely the culprits. them and that pesky liver malfunctioning making the thought of jumping off a building appealing as opposed to the non. stop. itching. all over my body.

you came into the world beautifully, one push, then you were mine to hold.

our family lavished you with love and i spent the night nursing and cuddling you. the next morning our world flipped upside down as your stability came into question. the sting is fresh when i think back to those moments of uncertainty. yet as i look at you now in the high chair, eyes wide watching me, grace flows.

you radiate joy and contentment. i hold you close and breathe it in along with the glory of His endless mercy. we are telling this story of Him and us and them and you have joined right along making your mark. you pointed my heart toward Him from day one and have continued ever since.

you belly laugh and squeal loud finding your voice. you watch eisley and durgin, learning lessons daily. they love you and you love them and you will be best friends. you love the yummy foods i make for you, squash, sweet potato, carrots and bananas so far. you had a slow start but you are taking off and finally have some chub on your short little legs. no teeth yet but plenty of slobber and gnawing to let us know they are on their way.

we love you little one. all six months of you.