: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.

:the one where i am not a peacemaker:

i stepped over the little one to get to the stove. she's always at my feet, staring up with those big blue eyes, so curious. frank sinatra filled the air as i stirred the rice and dished out baby food.

i have loved, for ages, breaking bread with friends. it started when we first bought our little house. we knew we wanted to fill it with people and laughter. for years we had ten to twenty girls, different ages, different schools and different strokes, fill our home on monday nights. we played games, shared a meal and studied the life of jesus. they called. i called. we did life together.

here we are again, this place we love. this calling to fellowship. to spur one another on toward good deeds. it fits like a well-worn sweater. comfort on a chili day. it is Him, living through us.

we gather around the table chatting about studies and movies as the children interject with spiderman and toys in need of repair. they are welcome. of course they are welcome. jesus was so earnest in making their presence known and valued. dessert is served and it is beyond sinful. i'm a sucker for chocolate chip cookies. add nutella and i lose all self-control.

we move to the living room. my friend throws her feet over the side of the chair and hunkers down, bible open across her mint green skinnies. i wrap up in a blanket, always cold. the words of jesus are read aloud and sink deep into my soul.

thoughts of how to live out his teachings circle the room. i know what speaks to me. i've been thinking on it for weeks.

"blessed are the peacemakers 

for they shall be called

the children of god"

a deep longing hangs heavy for my children to be peacemakers. that i could leave a legacy that is full of living and love. not fighting and failures. yet it goes further than just the lack of fighting.

i no longer fight.

like that time years ago when words pierced, anger took over and i hurt back. that time that old friends love to bring up and laugh about. that time that i was peter drawing my sword but no righteous cause to defend, only pride. i'm not that person anymore. yet unrest of the soul could be just as damaging. so i look deeper and ask the hard question.

what does it really mean to be a peacemaker? 

this is my journey as i anticipate the resurrection of Christ. constantly asking myself, does this lead to peace? am i making peace with my children? am i bringing peace to my friendships? does my husband feel at peace? is my soul at peace? how can i bring peace to the kingdom of god?

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

: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.

: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 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 i like my unforgiveness:

our table was full again last night. full of food and laughter. good friends and conversation. at times we could hardly hear ourselves think as the children ran circles around the table. fresh-from-the-bath-hair flapping in the wind, getting out that last bit of energy before bedtime.

the dishes clanked as they were rinsed and loaded into the dishwasher. cleaning the table, a group effort. she knows, from way back, my need for a tidy kitchen in order to relax. she accepts that part of me.

jacob made espresso in his fancy little espresso maker while i snuggled tired children and tucked them into their beds for a good nights sleep. tell me about that time you were playing at your friends house and venom walked by the garage, durgin requested. so i told him this elaborate story that we have created together, then we said good night and he was off to sleep. i make my way across the hall to eisley, she asked about the house catching on fire as she does every night. fear is a jerk. i remind her of perfect love, inviting fear to hit the road. i hold her tight reminding her of mommy's love and say good night.

i grabbed the cable knit blanket as i walked by the couch, wrapped myself up, though it was still 75 degrees in our house, and plopped on the couch next to jacob. practicing the way of jesus is topic of discussion. loving the poor, caring for orphans, feeding the hungry, reaching out to the downtrodden and discouraged. yes, this is our journey. this is my heart. these are the things i am teaching my children daily.

then someone said you could invite your enemy for dinner. they weren't speaking specifically to me but
it was as if someone sat on my chest, lungs tight, air lacking. invite my enemy for dinner???? 

i'd like to say, as an adult, that i don't have any enemies. yet, truth be told, i like my unforgiveness. he is an old friend that shows up when i need him. he doesn't knock, old friends never do, he just comes right in. we reminisce about old times and he reminds me of his faithfulness. i hold him close, a comfort. justification for the hard places in my heart.

love your enemies
do good to those who hate you
bless those who mistreat you

a sumu match of the soul takes place. surely you didn't mean those people jesus? unforgiveness speaks up on my behalf, let me remind you of what they did to her. unforgiveness lays out the ugly details of that time my heart shattered into a million pieces. that time my reputation was put to question. that time i was knee deep in the ministry of shaping young girls' hearts and maliciously interrupted.

remember jesus? 
surely you don't mean to love those people? to be good to those people? to bless those people?
unforgiveness stood firm, eyebrows furrowed with determination, while jesus responded with gentleness that laid heavy, yes those people. 


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

:the one where he darts by and i notice:

god darts by, sometimes i notice.

-lauren f. winner

it's subtle. you miss him if you aren't looking for him. i didn't see him at all the first time i watched  the movie Fight Club. yet the entire movie is seasoned with flashes of his image. only a glimpse. when you least expect it. there he is.

***

i whipped my mini van in the drive way as he was getting out of his truck. we waved and said hello. he must have realized it had been a while since our last chit-chat, neighborly small talk, so he turned and asked, "how was your christmas?" 

i responded short and sweet assuming he wasn't interested in the details. he proceeded to tell me of a family he knew. "they didn't have a tree or presents or anything, so i just brought them all to my house and we celebrated together."

i see Him.

they have named her , though she isn't ours, cheetah. like cheetara from thunder cats. cheetah is black and gold swirl, plump, obviously cared for by someone, somewhere in our neighborhood. she shows up at our door every morning beckoning the children to play. they place their noses against the door to say hello and beg to join her on the porch in twenty degree weather. they pet her and talk to her and love her like their own.

eisley asked me one day, "why would she stay, we don't have a gate or anything?"
"love baby. she stays because you love her," was my response.

i see Him.

the washer breaks the day before baby girl comes down with stomach flu. to my rescue come gracious women who help me wash and fold my clothes.

i see Him. 

he wants to play trains, she wants to play barbies. more than anything they want to play together. compromise. peace.

i see Him. 

notice with me, won't you?

:the one where they might be jesus:

an excerpt from Still by Laura F. Winner

last week, sarah opened her door to find a traveling salesman. she invited him in, told him she was not planning to buy a vacuum cleaner and that in fact, because her baby was asleep upstairs, he couldn't turn on his demo model, and then she offered him a cup of coffee. he asked why she was offering him coffee, when she wasn't even going to let him show her the vacuum cleaner, and she said it was because she worships a god who has said that he may be found in any person, any near or far neighbor, any prisoner or beggar on the street, any guest. 

"so i'm offering you coffee because you might be jesus."

***

let us be open to His presence today. 

: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 he shouted and i moved:

he ran the full length of the platform with enthusiasm. he shouted and sweated a lot. i am unsure why someone yelling would motivate me to a deeper relationship with christ. but it did. by the end of the night, fueled by adrenaline and the emotion of thousands of students around me, i found myself face down on the nasty stadium floor.

it wasn't part of my plan, this place. this university that required skirts below the knee, curfews and supervised dates. this university that did not allow television, shorts or secular music. this university that teaches the earth is 6,000 years old, dinosaurs were on the ark, and certainty saves.

the selfishness of my eighteen year old existence wanted desperately to leave town. the town that i now, can never imagine leaving. the town where three grandparents, two aunts and uncles, five first cousins and thirty plus extended family reside.  yet i needed to leave. i needed a fresh start. i needed a place where no one knew me and that's exactly what i got.

i left high school a believer, at least when people were watching. i care far too much about what others think. both a flaw and a virtue.

i left college a in love with the One that loved me first, last and all the moments in between.

in the months following the sweaty-man-marathon-inspired-conversion. i developed a love for the written word. the WORD. i woke up early and went to bed late devouring every word inspired by Him. i read oswald chamber's my utmost for his highest daily, certain that each page was written specifically for me at that place and time.

i quickly climbed the spiritual ladder set before me and became a small group leader on my hall. five girls came to my room each week to read scripture and be encouraged. little did i know this was paving the way to the future when girls would grace my home weekly, growing us both by leaps and bounds.

as part of the small group leader requirements, i met with my SLD (spiritual life director) once a week for accountability.

accountability [noun]: the state of being accountable, liable or answerable. 

the day before my meetings my stress level went through the roof.

what if i couldn't remember what i had read in my devotions?
what if i couldn't articulate how god was working in my life this week?
what if i was not spiritual enough?
what if i was not growing enough?

i popped my knuckles as i waited outside her door. my stomach in knots.

***

we leaned over the table close to hear each other. music loud and people too close for comfort in a coffee shop. she talked about her marriage and family. i did the same. we talked about our love for simplicity and our belief that we are called to live simply and love extravagantly. loving extravagantly looks different from one person to the next. we are all working out our own salvation. we laughed loud and hard and cried a little too. at the end of the night i felt full to the brim in my soul. though we never opened the bible or prayed, i felt holy. i thought of kicking off my shoes for the holy ground we stood upon.

what is holy but what is sacred, dedicated to god?
what is sacred but what is dedicated to some religious purpose, consecrated?

let us dedicate our moments to god, encouraging one another to do good, love him and love others.
take off your shoes sisters, for we are standing on holy ground.

:13 in 2013:

"isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?"

- l.m. montgomery

when the world is spinning and chaos ensues, consuming, this is the gift that breathes new life into my weary soul. 

a new day with no mistakes.

a clean slate.

chance.

opportunity. 

as the year turns over i am quieted with the gift of this time with no mistakes. no tempers lost or words to regret. no moments missed or lack of patience exposed. no selfishness. no hurt feelings. no guilt. only chance and opportunity, an open invitation to all.

with each new year comes resolution. intentions set in place. a heart full of hope. we are all on this journey of hopefulness, ever evolving into holiness. lets walk together, encouraging one another towards love that reveals itself in the doing. 

>>>>> 13 in 2013 <<<<<

 (inspired by shane claiborne)

1. do for one what i cannot do for all. 

i took this goal directly from shane's post. it perfectly suits what is constantly on my 

heart so i will join him in this calling.

2. send cards weekly as an act of love and encouragement.

 showing just how wide and long and high and deep is the love of christ.

3. say yes more than i say no. 

4. laugh with my children when it is most difficult to do so.

5. live with less.

6. speak less. 

in our recent readings of little house in the big woods, there was mention of how pa spoke 

very little so when he spoke his words carried great weight.

7. focus on the good in others. 

8. invest in my community.

9. see and nurture the specific interests of my children.

10. get outside more.

11. write every day even if i never hit publish.

12. play. 

13. live in grace.

:the one where we are neighborly:

our neighbors are lovely people. we are surrounded on all sides by people who have grown children or teenagers. they give our kids easter baskets and dollar bills and high fives and a million hello's because kids never say it just once. 

we are thankful for them. our children pray for them not because we tell them to, but because they love them. to show them that love, we concocted this little gem of a gift.

Supplies: twine, mason jar, gift tag, candy canes. 

we happened to have everything on hand, leaving only the small purchase of the candy canes. we wrapped each mason jar in green and white twine. made a gift tag that simply says we are thankful you are our neighbors. added the candy canes and BOOM, instant neighbor gift and a good time for my kiddos.


let us love one another in big and small ways 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 love looks quite ordinary:

lately i've been reading this and this. in the wake of the loss in Connecticut and the lives affected and broken there i am searching for how to love in this time and this place.

love has many forms.

sometimes it looks like art made with hands sharing my mama heart arriving via snail mail style on just the right day.

sometimes it looks like a brother and sister squabbling one minute and giggling the next. learning new tricks like how to climb high on playhouses and stand gloriously triumphant. cheers over hot chocolate then a mad game of hey lets dump it all over one another! 

sometimes it looks like little hands creating and selling to earn money to buy a poor girl a baby doll. knowing all too well privilege and how richly we are blessed.

sometimes it looks like a phone call from a grandparent that says hey, bring the children over and go enjoy a coffee date with the one you love.

sometimes it looks like hide-and-seek in the dark right before bed.

sometimes it looks like a text, or help with groceries, or just a hello.

sometimes it looks like gingerbread houses and candy strewn across the floor. tiny faces covered in icing.

sometimes it looks like diapers and cigarettes. 

sometimes it looks big and small and here and now.

sometimes it looks nothing like we thought it would.

let us love.

:the one where love looks like diapers & cigarettes:

we sat around the table sharing stories that never quite have an ending. questions that never fully get answered. yet even in the incompleteness of it all, encouragement roamed the room. one spoke of his encounter with a stranger recently while leaving a restaurant. the stranger came up to him and said,

hey it's christmas, you got a gift for me?

to which he replied, i have half a pizza here, you can have it.

nah man i don't need no pizza. whatch you got for me?

i don't know man, what do you want? you want a forty?

he went on to say i would buy him a forty and follow it with give the man a strong drink.

everyone gave a raised eyebrow, gave a nod and went on with the sequence of unfinished thoughts. their voices and laughter turned to white noise as i sat on those words for a while. how would jesus handle that? obviously the man needs so much more than a strong drink. honestly where will that get him? is that really doing good? surely that's not how we should practice the way of jesus?

i came home and searched the scriptures and there it was, the sayings of king lemuel.

Let beer be for those who are perishing,

    wine for those who are in anguish!

⁷ 

Let them drink and forget their poverty

    and remember their misery no more.

provers 31:6-7

maybe my friend is on to something.
maybe practicing the way of jesus looks nothing like we think it should. 

shane claiborne shared another unorthodox approach to this subject in his book, irresistible revolution.

a young guy, went door to door in an apartment complex, sharing the love of jesus. he knocked on one door and a lady with a cigarette in her mouth and a naked baby on her hip answered. he began his presentation of the gospel and she slammed the door in his face. discouraged, he walked away. in the midst of his discouragement and questioning he had an epiphany. running to the nearest market he bought a pack of diapers and cigarettes and went back. he sat on the floor and smoked a cigarette with the lady. 

again my mind wrestles with these truths. surely jesus didn't mean this when he said love your neighbors? surely this isn't how the gospel is meant to be presented? then i come back to the lines drawn in the sand in defense of the one the law said to stone. i come back to dinner with guy that stole extra from everyone for himself. i come back to wine at the wedding. i come back to healing on the sabbath. i come back to acceptance of the unacceptable. his life didn't always look good to those around him. he looked like a rebellious, law breaker to many. when he was actually expanding our perception of what love should look like.

sometimes it looks like a forty.
sometimes it looks like diapers and cigarettes.
sometimes it looks like lines drawn in the sand.

let us do the same.

*just writing with heather today

: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 take a turn, while others go straight::

we walked in and ordered our drinks, iced caramel macchiatos. small talked with our favorite barista, giving her a hard time about dinner plans that have not come to pass. we laughed with the other one, that looks like olivia wilde, eyes that stop you in your tracks. making our way to an outside table he lamented forgetting his cigars as he rarely gets time to relax in this way. we took the obligatory instagram picture several times until one met my approval. then we settled into conversation saturated with dreams.

somewhere along this journey of life we took a turn while everyone else kept straight. we desire a life of less, not more. constantly purging this home of all things that hinder joy and life abundant. we desire a life of community, encouraging others along the way, carrying each others burdens, going the extra mile. we desire pockets of friends huddled over coffee discussing the life of jesus and how we can be more like him.

he dreams of a home church that begins with meals that fill the belly, sandwiched with  conversations good for the soul and laughter on the end. we wonder if there are others on a similar journey, seeking the jesus of the bible. the one that hung out with whores and thieves and low lives and proclaimed their value. the one that encouraged caring for the poor and widowed. the one that cared much more about people than the laws set in place. the one that would break the law if it meant meeting the need of a brother or sister.

i dream of a time for moms to come together and be refreshed. maybe reading a book together, or scripture or neither. just talking the evening away so excited for an opportunity to have conversations that are not interrupted with requests for more milk, help with the potty, cleaning up messes or breaking  up disputes. i dream of a home full of mothers with no common bond but this season of pouring out. i dream of a safe place to be real without fear of judgement or comparison. i dream of mothers encouraging mothers.

i check the time, knowing my precious mama is at home with the babies, and has to work tomorrow. we finish up the last sips of our coffee delighted with our time together and hopeful that our dreams may come to fruition. breathing in the moment one last time, we throw our cups in the trash and walk to our car hand in hand, we don't say it allowed but know we are blessed.

::lessons learned about simplifying::

i recently read organized simplicity by tsh oxenreider and i just started practicing the way of jesus by mark scandrette. both super inspiring books about reducing materialism and living simply so that we can better serve those around us.

{lessons learned}

1. less things = more free time.

the less clothes my family owns the less laundry i have to do.
the less things we have in our home the less things i have to clean.
the less i desire things the less time i spend roaming the aisles of shopping centers.
all of this means more time for my precious family.

2. less things = more creativity

we spend time making toys with the children.
we spend time exploring more artistic endevors with our children.
we spend time in nature and enjoying the things god has given us to enjoy.
all of this means my family grows more tightly knit as we create.

3. less things = more care for gods people

we can teach our children about our privilege to care for gods people.
we can teach our children that others have less and need our help.
we can teach our children to give and love and serve.
all of this will bring joy to our family and those we encounter.


what do you do to simplify? and why do you choose to do it?