:rainy day play:

"think left and think right and think low and think high. 

oh the thinks you can think up if only you try."

-dr. seuss

what rainy days look like around our home.

:the one where we are noisy...and joyful:

life is loud at this stage. our home echoes the pitter-patter of tiny feet, ages six, three and one. noise, oh the noise, makes this home joyful. for they are full of love. at least the most part is love. some days they are loving one minute and fighting the next. aren't we all wrestling the beast of self daily? 

on the journey of becoming a peacemaker reveals the many moments that i am not. so i seek out those that have perfected this character and ask, how? this act alone was mighty, for pride is so big and stands firm in my way of reaching out. yet i did. what is your secret? 

she answered humbly, because that's her. offering scripture and food for thought. i wrote down every word to revisit on the hard days.

the big girl helped me make hot pink play dough. she squealed with delight as the color turned. smiling so big her cheeks touched her eye lashes and you could see the space where three baby teeth used to be.

we laid out cookie cutters and a bowl full of play dough. one for her and one for her brother. they giggled when i gave them marshmallows for snack, a rare and precious treat. i sat with them and made hearts and snowmen, writing love notes on the paper.

i get up and down from my desk to help the little ones, my back catching each time. age, the great suitor, staking his claim on the days well past my youth. they make play dough cupcakes. i give them a candle for play and they sing happy birthday to one another. eisley says, to no one in particular, this is fun! i whisper, thankyoujesus.

:i read, you read, we read:

my love for books goes back as far as my memory will take me. stories allow us to escape to another place and time, broadening our knowledge. opening our minds to new and exciting things while deepening our imagination.

we are on a journey of creating a love for books and stories in our children. when our darlings were just little, crawling about, we read the baby einstein alpha books. as they grew so did their love for snuggling into our laps and fading away into stories told by others. here are a few ways that we are instilling a love for reading in our children.

::weekly library visits::

each week we make a trip to our public library. when we first started going it was no easy task keeping up with three little ones. with time, like all things, they adjusted and we now have a great routine for our weekly visits. i have a list of books i want to read for the week in relation to home studies and their interest. they are allowed to walk the rows and pull a certain number each. six for eisley, because she's six and three for durgin because he's three. this just helps keep things in check. we usually leave the library with around 30 books for the week.

once upon a time, i tried to take the three little darlings up to the third floor to pull books for myself. that. did. not. work. thankfully our library has an online request option. i simply go online and request books for myself and they are held at the circulation desk for pick up. easy-peasy. 

::they see us reading::

my husband and i are avid readers. our children see our stacks of books throughout our home and ask questions. what are you reading? what is this book about? books in plain view are great conversation starters.

it took a while but our children now go to books during leisure time as opposed to television. we still watch shows on most days but it is definitely no longer the default to boredom.

::incentive::

we also developed an incentive chart for our kindergartner. each time she reads a book aloud she gets a stamp. when she fills her chart, twenty-five stamps, she gets a prize. she has already filled it once and well on her way to the second and we are crazy proud of her!

"children are made readers on the laps of their parents"

-emilie buchwald

:the one where i see trash, she sees treasure:

she never worried much as i took off toward the field. or if she did, she didn't show it. i imagine when someone has been through the hard stuff like she has, you just stop worrying along the way and trust Him.

it wasn't far to get to the field. the one with the tall grass, only bush hogged twice a year. the same one my mama played in as a little girl. telling of the racer snake that decided to chase her one day. she ran with all her might, squealing with fear, while her sisters rolled the ground with side splitting laughter.

i tiptoed through that part of the journey, watching every step, ever fearful of snakes. once i reached the woods, i feared no more as my neighbor friends crawled through the barb wire fence, careful not to get their clothes caught. we walked every inch of those woods throughout our childhood. we carved out tucked away club houses for our enjoyment. we swung from vines and walked barefoot in the creek. hours spent exploring and sharing stories. never noticing the sun going down until their mama whistled for them to come home. acres and acres of land between us and her, but that whistle, you could hear for miles.

we ran home, sad for the days end. yet always looking forward to the promise of tomorrow.

i walked through the leafy trees and around broken branches as she showed me every detail. this is the gate and those are my minnie flip flops for decoration. she took me to the bedrooms straight away. she climbed high claiming the top as her domain. a small place a the bottom was offered for my comfort. durgin's room somewhere to the left. she mentioned a branch broken by her cousin but quickly assured me that the brokenness was okay. she already understands imperfection makes way for character.

the little guy swung from branches declaring in a strained voice, this is how we climb. he could barely get those two flinstone feet off the ground but he was giving it all his might.

eisley continued the tour to another part of the woods. there was an old dog house turned upside down with a bunch of trampoline springs and leaves mixed together. i said, you should get daddy to take that to the trash. the mama in me, always purging and cleaning. to which she quickly replied, no! that's our treasure box. a reminder, one man's trash really is another man's treasure. she instantly saw value in something i thought held none.

so it is with people. easy to point out the ugly, no good, yucky side. much harder to look past all of that to see the beautiful. yet i'm certain god gave this one to me for this very reason. she makes me see. man oh man, have i been missing so much.

:one year, oh dear:

in the darkness i held her feverish body close to mine. i rocked the hurt away in that old rocking chair handed down by my sister. the one where the afghan, made by aunt dorothy, hangs. the sound machine roared ocean waves that rolled with the rhythm of the rocker. she held the collar of my shirt and laid her head on my shoulder. i felt the weight of her body grow heavy as she gave way to sleep.

prayers are easiest in the night. hushed words of promise spoken over little ones. blessings bestowed. preparing my heart, even no, for the letting go. when they are called to the purposes of the upside down kingdom.

her heart so tender and loving. i pray it will carry her always. that she may love freely, all. especially the broken and beaten down. that she would stand up for the oppressed and give grace to the oppressor. that they would know Him by her love.

still i hold her tight knowing these moments are both a gift and fleeting.

today marks one year from when we first received the news so vague. the uncertainty presented and whirlwind set into motion. the day that i had to trust in Him, for nothing was in my control. my sweet jarius baby, you have been pointing me to Him since the very beginning. as i walked halls with swollen feet and a broken heart begging for you to be okay. please lord, heal my daughter, was my plea. the sting of helplessness still fresh. yet here you are, well. taking first steps on your first birthday. already giving gifts to those around you.

today i rest with a full heart, knowing He is near.

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

:the one where i reflect on the simple:

my sweet girl turned six years old last week. she feels so big girl. not five, no not five. five is but a baby and she is six. full on six.

for breakfast we made cinnamon rolls and sausage per her request. the moments following play in slow motion in my mind. her hair blowing in the wind. a smile as big as the moon as she rounded the corner of our dinner table on her brand new razor scooter. she grew decades in those moments. keys in hand hopping into her first car to drive away. waving goodbye as she heads out with friends. packing for college.

this journey, so bitter-sweet.

a party was thrown in her honor and all of her favorite people were invited. sixteen adults and thirteen children filled our home with joy and laughter. little girls ran around in princess dresses and little boys donned shields and swords. they choose their roles so young. the birthday girl announced her betrothal to a sweet little friend and proceeded to march through the halls wearing my wedding veil carrying a bouquet of handmade flowers. be still my heart.

she requested an art party and a piñata but didn't really get either. when i asked her if she was happy with her party she said "yes i'm happy, it's friends and family that are important." happy and content with the presence and presents of loved ones. she knows value. her treasure is found in people, not things.

eyeballs turned to saucers as children realized the free reign of cupcake decorating that laid before them. pink and purple icing from head to toe. sprinkles for days. little ones delight in the little. small gestures of freedom go to the deep parts of their souls.

then there are those friends, the ones that stay well past everyone else. washing dishes, sharing stories and belly laughter that hurts for weeks. a welcome reminder of days not wasted. days full of the good and simple gifts that point us to Him.

these are the moments that memories are made of. let us not forget the simple. the precious. the good. for they are all a reflection of His goodness and His mercy.

*linking up with carissa 
*just writing with heather

:the one where i offer six things for her sixth:

1. on your birthday now and forever, i will always make your favorite meals. i love that today you asked for sausage links for breakfast. livermush and eggs for lunch and an egg sandwich for dinner.

2. while on your journey you may find that your ideals clash with mine. know this little one, mommy accepts you and loves you and hopes great things for you. nothing can separate us my dear.

3. you have a contagious love for those you encounter. you are the friendliest kid i know. somewhere along the way someone may try to crush your spirit which will leave you guarded and afraid. don't let them. remember we love because he loved us. he never stopped and neither should we. shake it off and love with folly. always.

4. you will make mistakes. there is grace for every single one. grace, grace and more grace.

5. your brother and sister are your best friends.

6. you made me a mom and that is the greatest gift you will ever give me. you point me to Him on a daily basis with your childlike faith. you are a gift, a good and perfect gift.

happy 6th birthday little one of mine!

:the one where i draw them with unfailing kindness:

some moments feel as though the sea lies between us. i see them there, in the distance, longing to be close. emotions overwhelm their tiny existence. they fuss and fight. they push back and rebel. they resist with all their might.

naps all around for tired souls. prayers of peace in the silence. when they wake, it's still there, in the cracks of their brokenness. there is only one thing that will cure this ailment. one thing that will end the funk.

lavish them with unfailing kindness.

works every time.

:the one where i claim my mama mantra:

today i will answer the first time they call my name.

today i will not say in just a minute.

today i will say yes more than i say no.

today i will sit in the floor more than i stand in the kitchen.

today i will create with my children.

today i will tell that story they love to hear over and over again.

today i will read extra books.

today i will snuggle longer.

today i will not be bothered with laundry.

today i will chase them around the house.

today i will tickle them until their cheeks turn red.

today i will instigate a pillow fight.

today i will play hide and seek.

today i will make memories. 

what will you do with your day?

"our whole life is but a greater and longer childhood"

-benjamin franklin

:the one where we NEED the hard days:

motherhood, like an ocean, swells and overcomes at times. navigation difficult, with the sweeping of currents resembling tiny faces in need of attention. i am no master of the sea. captain by default, putting my best foot forward as i stumble along. it can be a lonely place on the sea of perfection. when you think everyone else has it all together. you, certainly, the only one pulling out the life boat.

there are lessons to be learned in the hard days of motherhood.

it is in the hard days that i realize my undying need for grace and the infinite supply at my disposal. 

like the son who fell into the trenches of nothingness. returning to his father expecting shame for his failures, receiving grace instead, so it is with motherhood.

there are days where it feels as though all we have to give is squandered. no value left. nothing to show for the day spent. yet there is grace. abundant grace.

and a new day coming with no mistakes in it yet.


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

:the one where grace abounds:

we finished up morning snack, made-from-scratch-honey-biscuits, and i sent them outside to play. black and white my uniform for the day, only short a whistle and cap to pull off my role as referee.

motherhood breeds hard days. shocked by the chaos of it all. what did i expect from these little ones when i haven't mastered the art of peace making in my thirty-five years? they are learning to control emotions far larger than their little minds can fathom. selfishness, natural. peacemaking, a skill to be learned.

i pulled a chair close to the door so i could see them play. grabbed my book, closed my eyes and breathed a prayer of peace.

"grace abounds and walks around the edges of our everyday experience." 

-brennan manning

grace abounds.

there is enough grace for this moment. this blank space in time that feels overwhelming and unsuccessful to the naked eye. enough grace for their tempers and mine. enough grace to carry us all to peace.

there is enough.

i lay my book down and walk outside, hunched over, hands in the air, saying,  fe, fi, fo, fum, i smell the smell of little ones, in my scariest, playful voice. screams emerge and children scatter. i chase them and take them to my lair. this interaction on repeat until we are out of breath and full of joy for this moment abounding with grace.

:the one where He calls me to see:

the song plays in my dreams, a theme of sorts, until i realize it's my alarm beckoning me to morning. i roll out of bed stiff from hours of a five year old crammed into my back. i peek over at the little one still sleeping in the crib next to our bed. ten months now and i'm still not fully ready for her to be what seems like, miles away in her own room. 

i settle into my spot with my coffee and His words. moments later i hear tiny feet scurrying across the floor and to my side. almost IN my side, she can never get close enough. i welcome her to the day and so begins the requests for television. 

no tv before studies, i remind her.

she complains.

i feel frustration take it's place.

i look up to the chalkboard, silently reading Hebrews, reminding myself to encourage her toward love and good deeds. encourage her. encouragement and frustration cannot exist in the same place. one will take precedence. i fight the ladder.

the sun rises and so do the other darlings. a home that was silent just moments earlier is now so loud thoughts are no longer heard. three that need. three that want to be heard. three that are mine to grow and groom and love. 

i walk over, holding the tiny one that steals my heart with her wrinkled-nose-no-teeth-smile, to turn music on, gungor radio sends calm through the air. deep breath followed by an internal pep talk and vomit. yes vomit, everywhere. i'm covered, she's covered, the carpet is covered. the big kids are laughing hysterically because heaven knows bodily functions are their life blood at five and three. 

i know what the day holds and for a moment i want to run. run far far away. i want to strap on my tennis shoes put music in my ears, the kind that drowns out the frustration, and run until my side hurts. 

yet the only running i will do today will be to the bathroom, baby in hand, to place her over the toilet. 

i want to run, He wants me to see.

see?

see Him. see Him in tiny faces. see Him in vomit stained carpet. see Him in requests that go unmet. see Him in the asking. see Him in the mundane, every day. this is where He resides, if only i will have eyes to see for He makes beautiful things, out of the dust....out of us.

let us have eyes to see today.

:the one where we delight in the hunting:

it's all a learning curve, this journey. the path is worn and indecipherable at times. no map to consult.  only those who have gone before us as a guide. some walk with us as encouragement. my heart hangs heave these days with the brokenness of this world. the despair and loneliness that fills the hearts of so many. i search for ways to meet needs with our means that seem so little but in reality are so so great.

the little guy crawled into my lap this morning, handing me a magazine, mom can you read about poor people. it was the world vision gift catalog. we went through and read each section.

why is that child sad?

well they don't have a mommy and a daddy?

what happened to them? 

they just got really really sick buddy. 

the mommy got really sick?

yes buddy, the mommy.

"to a small child mommy is still god, and therefore immortal, and must not 

betray the child and the universe by dying." 

- madeleine l'engle 

eisley says prayers for the sandy hook children. she cannot grasp the full weight of what happened nor do i want her to at this time. yet she speaks words that fall like bricks into my soul, heavy and true.

our world is hurting.
our brothers and sisters are hurting.
our church, the body is hurting.

"one of the greatest weapons of all is laughter, a gift for fun, a sense of play which is 

sadly missing from the grown up world."

-madeleine l'engle

in the midst of the hurting and heavy, we played.

i stumbled upon this scavenger hunt that looked super fun! i wrote words that eisley could read. taped them all around the house directing her from one location to the next. She and her brother giggled the entire time as she sounded out words! Pure delight bounced off the walls of our home. i ran behind them cheering them on to the next card and danced circles around them when they found their prize.

laughter is a truly powerful weapon.
let us laugh today.


*linking up with emily 

:the one where my mother heart aches:

the clouds hung low and the rain poured heavy, limbs bowing at the weight of it all. i walked around aimlessly most the day, floating here and there in no one direction. no purpose. i entertained the children with board games, crafts, movies and snacks. anything to keep the day moving forward. i found myself a bit snippy and impatient and wondering why.

later in the day i packed them up and sent them off with kisses to their grandparents house. they are loved there. loved with toys and snuggles and yummy things for their bellies. probably more than usual on this visit.

it's quite possible every kid in america received extra this weekend.

one more minute.
one more movie.
one more cookie.
one more kiss.
one more hug.
one more snuggle.
one more game. 
one more.

once the house was quiet i read this. i needed to read it. i needed to process the news. i needed to mourn the loss. i needed to grieve with the mothers i may never know. it was a hard read. hard to know their names. knowing their names makes it real. like when you hold your new born baby and you call them by the name you have held in your heart, just for them. at that moment the heaviness falls upon you- this is a person. they belonged to someone. someone that will never know their hugs and kisses in this life again.

my heart shattered into shards of glass emerging as tears until there were no pieces left to spill. i called him to hold me and he did but no comfort i found. there is no comfort in this. it is and should be uncomfortable. it should be so uncomfortable that our discomfort leads to action. leads to love. love with hands and feet and words and faith that moves mountains to be one people, united, carrying one another's burdens.

it would be so easy to disconnect, to ignore the hurt, flip the switch. yet we are called, commanded even, to carry the load, the heavy one, together. we were not meant to walk this road alone. we are one body. His body, the one that was broken for us, so that we can be broken for one another. yet it is not enough to be broken. we must be moved to change. to love harder. to love intentionally. to love well. to love often. to love until it hurts and then love more.

we must love.

let us love a real, unstoppable, overflowing, contagious kind of love right where we are today.


*linking up with carissa for miscellany monday

:the one where we turn on a small light:

so, i am not what i thought i'd be. trying to figure out how to practice the way of jesus with my children by my side keeping them safe, yet reaching out into the ugly-messy that is all around us.

it's so simple for my children. this has to be what jesus was talking about when he said the kingdom of god belongs to such as these. kids keep it simple. i'm trying to figure out how i can get to the homeless shelter with three kids in tow because jesus reached out to the homeless and was after all, homeless, and my children are bringing heaven to earth right where they are.

we went to the grocery store to get supplies to bake bread for our neighbors. never a small feat with three under five. i dressed and loaded three precious little ones into the mini van and we made our way. i unloaded them giving them a pep talk about not running, being good listeners and using their manners.

we started down the aisle and they started saying hello to every person we passed. they made eye contact and waved. one older gentleman, in particular, took to them. he watched them with joy strewn across his face. he delighted in my children and they in him. he giggled as they were fascinated by the toys that lined the rows saying i'm just gonna look mommy. he was not bothered when they ran in front of his buggy or twirled into his space. their joy was contagious and he caught what they were passing around with an open hand.

after loading babies and groceries into the van, then unloading once we arrived home, we began baking. what would normally take me twenty minutes took about an hour. we talked and giggled and eisley took in new skills. i found myself in awe of this little one with such a big heart. we packaged our bread and delivered it to our neighbors and she felt the joy of giving with no agenda, expecting nothing in return. that joy spilled over into my mama heart, a rare and precious treasure to be pondered all of my days.

we are all ordinary people. who can within our own small ways 

turn on a small light in a dark room 

-miep gies

:the one where i'm not what i thought i'd be:

four children, fancy cars and a nice house. this was my dream. that and being a physician's assistant to support my envisioned expensive habits. we would drive away from our fancy house on sundays in our fancy car, to church. sit prim and proper in our row, taking in the message prepared for us. i would work and drop my children off at daycare, pick them up in the evenings and slap a healthy meal on the table for dinner. we would banter and laugh over mashed potatoes and always use our manners.

i'm not what i thought i'd be.

three children, sitting on how we will get to four. another pregnancy or adoption is all still up in the air. i gave up my dream of being a physician's assistant years ago and settled for a degree in biology which thrills me to pieces when thinking i am the third person in our entire family to graduate from college.  my degree gave me a ten year career in medical sales that opened my eyes to the greed of the corporate world and how easy it would be for me to get sucked into the more of it all.

we left the church of prim and proper when the first little one was born. we went in search of the down in the dirt, with the whores and homeless jesus. we found him at a small church, tucked away right in our little town. it's full of people that love jesus and love people regardless of their belief system or social status or sexual orientation. they just love.

they feed the poor and homeless. they love on the down trodden. they give the woman beaten and oppressed a place of refuge. they welcome all, judge none. they lavish our family with love and encourage us with emails and books and meals shared in blue jeans and t-shirts around our kitchen table.

after my maternity leave was nearly up with our first child i started checking out daycares. i found myself in a puddle of my own tears as i could not come to terms with someone else getting more hours of her day than me. when i remember the feeling of hot tears on my cheeks and white knuckles on the steering wheel, the days at home with three little ones are but a piece of cake.

actually days at home with three little ones is anything but a piece of cake but there is no amount of gold that would make me give up my place as a stay at home mom.

my heart bleeds for the less than. the sick, abandoned, beaten down, mistreated outcasts of this world. i long for change and seek ways to be a part, doing small things with great love teaching my children along the way. i  am challenged with how to love well while getting down and dirty with those in need and my children by my side. there is a fine line in a mama's heart between answering the call and keeping those precious babies safe.

i asked my friend one time how she ministered when her children were small. she said she let them wipe tables and serve in the shelter, always an eyeshot away. she went on to say the patrons would often respond more so to her children than any adult they encountered. still, i struggle. what is my place? what would you have me do lord? how do i practice the way of jesus in my small place in time?

i watched the movie Freedom Writers this week. it rocked my world and i cried big ugly cries over the truths and challenges found in that movie. after reading the Diary of Ann Frank, Miep Gies came to speak to their class. one student stood up and said you're my hero. she is a hero, brave and noble. yet she said to him,

i did what i had to do because it was the right thing to do. we are all ordinary people. who can within our own small ways turn on a small light in a dark room

so here i am, ordinary, in my own small ways working to turn on a small light in a dark room and teaching my children to do the same.

:the one where we must answer the call to quiet:

the little one rustles before the sun rises. she entertains herself for a bit with squeals and giggles before realizing her belly is empty, turning giggles to whimpers.

i know my morning routine well, a creature of habit.

put on glasses.
brush teeth.
make coffee.
prepare bottle and baby food.
set up the ironing board.
feed baby girl.
change diaper & dress her.
breakfast for the big kids.
sit.
sip coffee.
chase the peanut.

like a cd on repeat, every morning listening to the same tune. though it doesn't grow old. this is my theme song. my life. my heart, in four forms, walking around outside of my body.

eisley has developed a love for The Little House collection. we have read Little House in the Big Woods every day and night for a week. the words jump off the pages leading us to another time and place. a simpler time of corn cob baby dolls, fresh maple sugar, calico dresses and bare feet.

the little guy lives and breathes trains. he gives thomas, percy and edward character and their own special voices as his imagination takes flight. he plays for hours with that wooden track and those hand-me-down trains. we build tunnels while he sings how each one hufths and pufths in his best three year old voice. s's as th's and r's as w's.

that little one, wrinkled nose and toothless smile makes me swoon. pulling up like a big girl ready to conquer the world. she army crawls all over the house while i chase behind her making sure she doesn't find the bits of food that are inevitably always left on the floor.

investing my love and my heart in this one ugly-beautiful-messy life. yet there is a calling. one even jesus took time to answer, the call to quiet.

quiet [qui-et: noun]:: the absence of noise or bustle; silence.

i am called to it daily. it's a longing deep within my soul.

every day around 1pm i am gifted with the quiet. baby girl and the little guy go down for nap. my big girl outgrew naps long ago but we have always held this time as sacred. i had told her for what seems like ages now that our bodies need the quiet. we need refreshing so we can love well, be patient and unselfish. saying it to her is actually my own personal reminder to still my soul.

laundry calls. floors are filthy from tiny feet scurrying throughout the day. i let them sit for just a while my soul breathes deep the goodness of this life. thanksgiving takes place in my mind a chanting of sorts. having read the wisdom of ann voskamp telling us eucharist always precedes the miracle and lord knows i don't want to miss the miracles.

let us answer the call to quiet.


*just writing with heather

:the one where i talk politics:

in the days preceding the election my heart felt heavy. i'm a fan and frequent user of social media but in regards to politics it became down right poisonous, spewing venom in every direction. well meaning people writing ugly, hateful things in the name of jesus. i felt anger in my heart more than once for insults voiced that i took personal.

conversations and studies involved the election process. we watched shows, thank you very much PBS for using Martha Speaks and Arthur to make politics tangible for my five year old. i took all three kiddos with me to vote so they could see first hand how things work. eisley asked questions and i answered them to the best of my ability. one day she expressed her desire for a particular candidate to win, who was not my choice. i asked her why and we had a conversation over snack about our political views. at the end of the talk we were still friends. she did not insult me, nor I, her.

as i thought back on our conversation i realized it would never occur to eisley to dislike me or lose respect for me because my views are different from hers. i am still the same mommy that makes her breakfast every morning and comforts her when she is scared at night. who we vote for does not change who we are. it is not a barometer for worth.

so the day after the election i avoided social media as a whole. instead of fuming over statements out of my control and making unnecessary judgements....

we baked.

we colored pilgrims.
we giggled.
we blessed friends and family.
we ate lots of pumpkin bread.
we took pride in hard work.
we solidified our forever friendship, in spite of our differences with love, laughter and lollipops.

let us go on loving one another.

:the one where she teaches and i learn.....again:

they zoomed by on their razor scooters noticing our children but totally playing it cool. scoping out the scene, making themselves known but not yet available. a tad older than my children but still drawn to our little campsite in the woods.

i'd like to say that i immediately looked at them with love and compassion and potential for friendship, but i didn't. i judged their haircuts and their mother for allowing such treachery on girls merely seven and ten. i questioned their choice of summer clothing on a cool fall day the last week in october. i listened as they spoke, words like mush thrown into the wind, hardly understandable.

soon my little one reached out, like she does, and they began to speak a universal language of smiles and giggles. blending pleasantly with the bright colors of falling leaves drifting through the air. you couldn't help but take notice.

she loved.
no strings attached.
no judgement for how they looked or how they spoke.
no concern of where they came from or where they were going.
just genuine, unadulterated, jesus-with-skin-on, love.

i have so much to learn from you little one, so much to learn.




*joining carissa for miscellany monday

:the one where i am thankful for puke and snot:

more times that i can count, i looked down to see my stunning, blue eyed, boy looking up to me, tissue in hand, an offering in exchange for a clean nose. red cheeks and fever haunted him throughout the day, affecting his ability to play. he wanted to play, with all of his might, he wanted to play. but his little body would only allow him a few moments of enjoyment before weakness took over.

baby girl took a bath in banana vomit, twice. twice i changed her soaked clothing and bathed her tiny frame. twice i changed her sheets. twice i snuggled her and put her to bed, hopeful she would rest well.

at the end of the day, i fell into the couch, exhausted. the weight of my body sank into the leather, while my favorite blanket melted over my tired legs. for a moment i felt frustrated. frustrated that the things i needed to accomplish today were still incomplete. the floors still dirty. the laundry still hidden in the dryer.

a text changed my perspective.

"my sister found out she lost the baby today."

i laid in a pool of my own tears, my mama heart breaking with hers.

i woke the next morning with a renewed spirit and an altered attitude. i wiped noses and bottoms with a thankful heart. i cleaned up puke with gratitude. i answered calls in the night with joy and patience.

today i am running on three hours sleep and a heart full of fresh mercy. i lingered over baby girl snuggles this morning and laughed hard at the new found comedy between the little guy and his daddy. i will continue to linger and breath in these fleeting moments with a thankful heart. for my children are a gift, puke, snot and all.