still unwrapping

I first want to say thanks for your grace in my last post.  Those thoughts are not new to my mouth.  They usually come out over canning peaches with my mom or a cup of coffee with a friend or many a night on the couch with my love.  The ongoing questions of how to wrap our minds around the need.  How to live here in light of the rest of the world.

It seems the more we ask what to do, the more I think that maybe it is not so much about finding *the* answer, but about doing the asking.  If there were some sort of checklist of what we should or should not have and how much we should give, why would we ever need to seek the heart of the Author, the Creator, the Sustainer?  And maybe He created it that way so that we would come.  Because in the coming, there’s so much more that is revealed than where our money goes.  As we ask for eyes to see the need and the heart to reach out, it becomes so much more than sending a check and checking off the list.  It is gut-searching, soul-revealing, Spirit-refining, seeking the heart of this loving Father, selfless Savior, who spared nothing.  Who so graciously lavished.   

I have been reading Mother Teresa's thoughts this week.  Talk about a lady whose drop in the ocean is still creating tidal waves of love and justice.  One phrase has stuck out to me, as I muse about these things:

Live simply so others may simply live.

I could go on and on...but it's a conversation that's better over coffee or by the fire...

some scenes from our weekend-ing

Next up...flourless nutella cake.

'Cuz I haven't figured out how to include it in this post.

Not that it's wrong to enjoy a slice of cake.  It just seems more Marie Antoinette than Mother Teresa {although I am sure Mother T would have loved this cake.} So, stay tuned :)

unplugged.

To this day every breath we breathe is a reminder of our Maker,

and every hour holds the possibility of living in His presence.

- Matt Redman, The Unquenchable Woshipper

I can barely remember washing windows at our other houses {translation: I don't know that I ever did...}, but the overspray of the pressure-washer left the outside of our windows looking pretty rough.  This morning, I grabbed a roll of paper towels and spray bottle of H2 and started scrubbing away.  

We have been looking out filthy windows for too long.  I have gotten used to admiring the sun shining through the glass, without noticing how spotty the view really was.  Somewhere in the middle of washing those 36 windows, I realized how clouded our vision can be.  I was reminded of the words:

   In repentance and rest is your salvation, 

   in quietness and trust is your strength.

Isaiah 30.15

How often the last phrase of that verse "But you would have none of it" can be true of me.  I see the need for a good cleaning on the window of my soul.

Lord, teach me to listen.
The times are noisy and my ears are weary with the thousand raucous sounds which continuously assault them...
Let me hear Thee speaking in my heart.
Let me get used to the sound of Thy voice,
that its tones may be familiar when the sounds of earth die away 
and the only sound will be the music of Thy speaking voice.  Amen.
- A.W. Tozer

Some of the "raucous" I cannot control (it's called 3 boys :)  But, this I can...Pressing post.  Closing screen.  Spending the weekend unplugged. 
Happy Weekend-ing!

a new week

I was in a drugstore the other day and a lady was saying “I’ve spent so long in here, and I’ll probably get home, sort out my meds in their case for the week and still not have everything I need.”  I thought about that for longer than I probably should have – this is what we have to look forward to?!  There are always parts of the season we’re in we can wish weren’t there:  I wish it weren't so cold, I wish I got more sleep, I wish it was the weekend, I wish things weren't so tight, I wish I didn’t hurt, you name it…  Spend some time in a nursing home and you’ll start to wonder why we are wishing time away.  It’s true that having something to look forward to may help us get through a difficult season.  But, a very wise lady who deals with chronic pain once told me “I just don’t want to complain because I may look back on these as the good ole' days.”  


Not that everything in our day is the way we would write the story.  There may be chapters that are harder than others, that we just want to skim.  But, you know the feeling you get when you realized you raced to the end of a good book, and it's over?  I don't want that feeling in this life.  I want to pause.  Muse.  Cherish the journey.  Because this is not the end!  Our hope is not in this life.  But in the Author of life who will one day make right every wrong.  There is so much to love right here.  Celebrate the blessings He has given you!  Today.

dance parties

Sunday afternoon strolls

nightly bonding over 3D tic-tac-toe

rainy days with a book

after-school bike-rides in the basement

 lunch dates with littles

boys singing, and air guitar

little toes

more dance parties {their faves: "One day" and "Who let the dogs out"}

little wills

his smile

{I realize that's alot of pics of our boys, but I posted gift ideas all last week and didn't want to leave out these moments.}

Happy Monday!

A new week, a blank page, a second chance,

to live for what truly matters.

  

“I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors' children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.”  

- Marjorie Pay Hinckley

of moments

A few weeks ago, the house was a wreck, dishes needed done, kids were finally in bed.  Andy encouraged me to get outside and enjoy the sunset.  It was all I could do to not plop down with a magazine.  Um, I mean....start on those dishes, of course.  It had been a long day.  I made every excuse why I should stay.  But I finally put on shoes and was shoved stepped out the door.  I headed straight toward the sun.  It became a race, as I saw the brilliant pink rays slash through the sky.  I wanted to see that fireball.  Just as I came over the hill and spotted the lake, the sun slipped down into the water.  

I missed it.  I was left with a shadow of beauty passed.  If only I hadn't deliberated so long...  If only I'd saved my excuses...  It was a simple sunset.  But it made me think of all the other moments I miss...


I can be so hard on myself, feeling guilty for time wasted, opportunities passed.  But, I'm learning from mistakes.  I've seen some gorgeous sunsets since then.  And, opportunities come as often as the sun sets.  


So, this week Miles was home from school 2 days with a fever.  I cancelled plans, postponed projects, stayed at home on gorgeous 75 degree days.  And I could have missed the most important thing...my little man needed me, to nurse more emotional wounds than physical.  Those 2 days were filled with some of the most precious moments listening, caring, playing, being present.  

Yesterday, after his fever had left and we were a little bit of stir-crazy, we made a memory to be savored as much as an ice-cold bottle of orange Crush on a warm October day.

I'm learning from my mistakes, enough to know that tomorrow is a blank page, full of new possibilities, blooming with new opportunities.  
I don't want to miss it.

Jude says "I'll drink to that."

Next up...pao de queijo.  Rain or shine.  I promise.

day of rest

I'm not referring to the law-locked-traditions of what it means to keep a day holy.  But our modern-day-Sabbath... A day that is far too often tacked on to the end of the week as fitting everything in before another week creeps up on me.  A day that {for us} can become the busy-est of them all.  

So, tonight I plan.  lentil soup on the stove.  clothes laid out.  dishes washed.  Prepare for a day of gathering.  worship.  rest.  I'm not always this intentional about it, and I don't know that I always can be.  But I want to learn to live quieter in this world.  More simple.  Less distracted.  Unplugged.

And what better day to practice His presence than a day of rest?  Not that much is restful about having 3 boys, but that my focus is different.  

My goal is slow.

To still my heart.  To know that He is God.  To remember that I am not.  

So, we light a candle.  Asking the Light of the world who pierces through the darkness to shine bright in our lives.  To reflect on worshiping Him alone.  None other.  But our Shepherd, the Guardian of our souls.

All the while doing so, aware that little eyes are watching, little minds are shaping.  How I want for them to know where rest comes from.  That they would learn alongside us to kindle the flame of peace in our hearts.  
And where else can we find that than in the quiet?

Be still and know that I am God.

psalm 46.10

loosening the grip.

Here I sit, on a misty Saturday morning in a musty ol' garage, sniffling from the years of mildew that has been locked up in this place, listening to the birdies chirping from the nest that has been built in the rafters, watching people look through our stuff, cringing at how much is stacked in this garage, wondering how at one time we thought we needed all this, recalling the following words from small notebook's post months ago... I think I get it.

Where were you when you made your big life plans?

When I was in college I spent many late nights...talking about our current lives, our classes, our hopes and dreams, and where we would go next.

The possibilities were endless and overwhelming. Where might we live?

Would we get married? 

Where would our job paths, career plans, families, and adventures take us?

No one of us ever said, “I hope I have a big house full of things that I bought just because they were on sale.”

We never talked about our intentions to own so much stuff that we would spend our free time trying to organize it all.

No one said, “I hope my future kids have so many toys that they can’t pick them up because it’s just so hard.”

Why do we trade in our goals, hopes, and plans for things that will eventually end up in a garage sale or in the landfill? We’re pulling thousand-pound baggage behind us as we go through life thinking about the next thing we can add to it! Stop doing that!

I still love fluffy white towels, knives that are sharp enough to slice, and tote bags. Yes, I love special things, especially tote bags. But I hate the idea that someone would trade in her special hopes and dreams for something that can be bought.

I like my stuff, but I am SO OVER IT. 

Give me passion, pursuits, wholeness, healing, compassion, mercy, reconciliation, audacious goals, beauty, love, grace, kindness, tender touch…

give me those instead, and 

let me not be distracted by anything less.  

- Rachel Meeks

I like the way she thinks.
I am done spending my time shuffling around stuff to make room for more stuff. I long for these boys to grow up valuing more than merely that which money can buy. I want to look in my closet and be overwhelmed with the blessing of options I have, that it doesn't matter that I haven't bought clothes in a year.  I still have a shirt to put on!

Feeling like my stuffs had too tight a grip on me, last June I decided not to buy any clothes for one year.  It's not that I was all up-to-date on the hottest trends.  It's just that I didn't need anything.  (Except one shirt, on sale for $5.  I cheated, 'cuz I needed that :)  Not buying clothes wasn't the point.  The point was that I don't like the feeling of what we own owning me.  There is a difference between buying a new pair of jeans because the knees blew out in my old ones, and just being so used to looking for deals that it didn't matter if I needed it or not, it's on sale!  I am embarrassed that there is a table in our garage sale of clothes that look barely worn when I recall sitting with the girl in the yellow shirt in a South American orphanage, because that's the shirt she owned.  


You know what? After a year, I still don't *need* anything.  A few more years of this, and I may be nominated for "What not to wear."  But that's okay.  As long as my heart has changed, until I am no longer distracted by anything less...


{I could go into a rambling of disclaimers, like how I don't mean for this to make anyone feel bad about buying clothes (please don't hear me say that - no judgment here. at all.), or to say I am so sorry if you are in great need.  There is HOPE...I have seen people in deep poverty with smiles on their faces bigger than an American with all the trinkets because their treasure is in nothing this world has to offer.}  Jesus is our only hope, and how RICH are we when we can sing from the depths of our heart "Hallelujah! All I have is Christ! Hallelujah!  Jesus is my life!"

Those are just some dreams of mine from this musty ole' garage.

drink deep.

Hands raised, eyes fixed, empty bowl lifted high, waiting to be filled…

His feet have barely hit the ground.  He comes into the kitchen, running.  Grabs the closest bowl he can find, even if it’s pink.  Looks to me and raises his bowl, empty.  Waits for his cereal, his daily bread.

He knows where to come every morning to be nourished, satisfied.

Could there be a more fitting reminder for me each morning?

God is so gracious. 

Taste and see that the Lord is good.

Oh, the joys of those who trust in Him!

psalm 34.8

We often don’t enjoy the experience at hand because we’re so caught up 

with reaching out for the next one…

The secret to awakening joy is 

being present with whatever part of life 

we’re tasting right now. 

James Baraz & Shoshana Alexander

Drink deep, friends, whatever part of life you're tasting right now.

when trouble comes...

I have sat down here so many times to start a post about ordering lighting, to record the happenings of our days.  But, life keeps calling me away...a house project that needs researched...a house fixture that just arrived...sharing the leftover ice cream with my small man on a quiet Saturday afternoon...

resting with little one on the couch...

my love turning my attention to the setting sun, which needs to be enjoyed on a porch swing, sitting long enough to watch the clouds pass us by, long enough to notice the brilliant orange and pinks fade into deep blues, long enough to wonder at the 2 of us, here, in the corn fields of Indiana, of all places...loving this little life of ours, as unpredictable as it may seem at times, long enough to think about this verse again.


Those who look to Him are radiant with joy.
psalm 34.5


Scrap lighting post.  Let's discuss joy.  This verse keeps coming to mind.  There's just stuff that tends to get me down.  You know what I mean.  Life spins beyond our control and we can't keep up or always be in the right frame of mind to take it graciously.  Situations we find ourselves in may ask to rob us of our joy.  Let's be real.  Sometimes they can just suck the life right out of you.  So, where is this ever-flowing, ever-freeing, abundant well of joy that people have in the midst of deep pain, reoccurring disappointments?    


When James says...
Dear brothers and sisters, 
whenever trouble comes your way, 
let it be an opportunity for JOY!
james 1.2


I have read that verse over and over, thinking it must be a typo.  
Joy?!?  Really?
This time last year I came across this verse as I was mentally preparing to have my thyroid removed.  A surgery I had sought to avoid, but was inevitable.  With a family I love dearly, laying down on that operating room table of uncertainty took courage I didn't know I had.  I had a choice to make.  Let my fears overwhelm or let it be an opportunity for joy.  


When I got the call a few days later that there were two parts that showed cancerous, I again had a choice to make.  Worry, or prayer.  Philippians 4.6-7 came to life in those weeks.  (One of those choices actually leads to peace!)


Those are big things.  Some of the biggest stuff we have had to face.  But, it's the little things that get me.  It's the every day choice before my feet touch the ground of who or what is going to dominate my thoughts today.  Whether I will let the worries and cares of this world weigh me down, or open wide the hand of surrender, eyes fixed on Him, strengthened with joy.  


The joy of the Lord is my strength.  
Nehemiah 8.10
Indeed, it is!  He's got plenty of it.
Sometimes we just need called away to remember that.  To look to Him.  
To let the wonder of it all turn to joy.

And for those of you who would have rather a post about lighting, sorry.  

I'll get to that soon :)

I just had some thoughts spinning around in my head...

mother's day reflections

Washing the lunch dishes, I look outside and see this.  Jack pulling Jude around in the wagon.  It's simple.  But it's images like this that fill me up, offer hope, and make it all worth it.

Some days the calling as a mom seems higher than I can climb.  Many nights I have come to the end of my day, recounting my many failings, overwhelmed by how much I got wrong.  Wondering how I'll ever get it all right.  

I read this week:
It’s not that you aren’t going to blow it. It is what you do with it, when you do.
Motherhood does not require, thankfully, perfection. It simply requires commitment and humility. - Ann Voskamp

I'm not a perfect mom.  And I don't have perfect kids.  So, it's a good thing I'm not a perfect mom!  Otherwise, how would they ever learn to respond to all that they do wrong?  I have many opportunities to show them, 'cuz I blow it a lot...  

Where is the balance between letting them dance to the rhythm of their own drums and teaching them how to be a peaceful member of society?  Sometimes I see all that needs "course-corrected," and where do I even begin?  Because when momma gets on mission to change hearts, it ain't pretty!  There is only one Heart-Changer I know.


So, some days I put this song on repeat.  I need to be reminded.  
I want to leave a legacy

How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love? Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things?
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace who
blessed your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

- Nichole Nordeman


I don't know where this path will lead, but I can take the next step of choosing to love.  Pointing to Him.  Blessing His name.

How thankful I am that we are not on this journey alone!

…He gently leads those that have young… 

isaiah 40.11

Happy Mother's Day!

especially to a certain mum in Woo-town and a certain mum in Brasil.  

We love and celebrate you!

learning to cast.

There I was, standing in the kitchen, folding a mountain of laundry, needing to move onto the dishes before friends arrive.  (Friends who have seen our mountains more than once, and still love us, but you know...)  

I glance outside.  And spot this.  That pudgy little hand that holds onto mine for morning errands.  He who is happy to tag along with me, working through my to-do's.  

I tune into their imagining what sort of creatures are beyond that screened porch, listening to the jabber of 2 boys 4 years apart, but made from the same stuff.  

I go out to snap a picture, because the memory must not forget this.  It is too precious.

 How did I not anticipate what words would follow...
"Would you come out and sit with us?" (Insert eager grin and wishing eyes)
"Um...Er...SIT?  Well, I have lots to do...laundry...dishes..."
Mama is in the zone!  Their faces unveil that they have heard this before..."maybe later," which really means "if there's time after I do everything I need to do." 
I catch myself and see the moment as a gift.  I can't stand to let it sit any longer, it must be full-force-torn-into and enjoyed.  The rest can wait.  The laundry isn't the one going anywhere.  The dishes aren't the ones growing up.
I sit.  We swing.  I hear all sorts of dinosaur tales.  Am asked a bazillion questions about creatures I have never heard of, but apparently existed.  For real.
We laugh, look into each other's eyes and smile.  I am so thankful for this moment.  Their heads that rest on my shoulders tell me they are too.  

(By the way, it is strange to see the back of my head.  I would have never found me if I was looking for myself in a crowd of head-backs.)




This is Thursday.  We stay outside nearly all day, basking in the new-ness of spring, letting the freshness fill our lungs.  (Besides the moment where I nearly caught the corn field on fire when I had an oops burning the paper, but anywho...)  
 

(Basil rising with a great big victorious YAWP!)

(Before you are jealous, let me tell you that the muffler has fallen off, and you can hear him coming from miles.  Really, the top down is just so he doesn't doze off from fumes :)

Friday comes and I am high on life.  Andy and Jack are working on the house, Jude is napping, and I am digging into gardening books.


A phone call brings me back to reality.  Our oldest at school is hurting.  Not the kind that is easily dealt with, that can be covered over with a band-aid.  One that stems from a diagnosis and the struggle, at times, to order his world.  I recall the past week, and how often he has asked me to play with him.  The times I have, he pours out his day, right there in one sitting, tells me all sorts of his perceptions.  And I patted my back for saying yes, and sitting.  When in actuality, I can be there...But not be present.  I have not been unwrapping the gift of his mind like I should.  Like he needs me to.  


I pick him up from school.  I ask him what happened.  Tears appear in his eyes, and his lip quivers.  We talk it through.  Again, that bottom lip starts to tremble, but everything in him wants to be brave.  It pains me to see the struggle.


But how thankful I am to have a weekend with this little man all to myself. 
To tear into the present.  And we did.

This salty, sweet, spicy slice of deliciousness is borrowed from the brilliance of a friend. (Thanks Brooke!)  It is pizza topped with chorizo, jalapenos, mango, and cilantro.  There are mushrooms and green peppers on this too.  I never would have combined all these flavors, but it is uh-mazing!

We're not sure where to go from here.  There is talk of meeting with a behavioral team.  There is comfort knowing how much others care.  He is so lovable.  There is a reason our memory verse this week has been:
Cast all your worries on the Lord, because He cares for you. 
1 Peter 5.7


Reminding me, continually, of His care.  For us.  For me.  For Miles.  After I got the call Friday, I pulled out a pen and paper, wrote down the whole big whopping list, and casted.  
Because. He. Cares. For. You.