Date Archives → August 2009

leftovers

Years ago I heard that Susan Brown, mother of many, would say that some days all the devotions she could get was reading a Bible story to her kids. That, I knew, was something worth remembering.

Fast forward to this past week, and you’ll find me reading Bible stories to Jameson at lunch every day. He’s recently become very enamored with Jesus, and wants nothing to do with Old Testament stories (even though, you know, every story whispers His name…) He’s not happy unless I can point to the illustration of Jesus — and then we can proceed. Anyway, his very favorite selection he calls The Food Story, otherwise known to us more learned adults as The Feeding of the 5,000. We’ve read it many times.

And can I just say, wow.

I’m so blessed by that story.

I’ve noticed this week that:

:: Jesus used kid food. Nothing fancy, just, you know, pb&j. Kinda like me. I don’t usually feel much more special than that.

:: Jesus took what wasn’t enough to begin with and managed to end up with leftovers. Leftovers. The mere mention of the word abundance makes my dry and tired soul stir, and that’s the word I see all over Jesus’ miracle.

:: Jesus lifted this piddly little lunchbox to heaven, blessed it, and… it was still a piddly lunchbox. But it managed to feed 5,000. And I think, how often do I say, “God, You’re going to have to multiply my grace/patience/ability/energy, because it’s just not enough,” and then I expect to see some abra cadabra za-za-zing thing happen, when that’s just not Jesus’ style. There was no *poof* moment when suddenly, before their very eyes, the mountaintop was covered with loaves and fish[es]. And there just may not ever be that moment in my life, either. And that’s okay. He can still feed 5,000.

:: And there will be leftovers. Did I mention that? Amazing.

So yeah. I look around at the untidy corners and surfaces of my house, see my boys who need, need, need, wonder what’s for dinner because I’m starving, not to even mention my poor husband, and there is never a Fairy Godmother who shows up and snaps her magic fingers. But there’s me, humble and pb&j-ish as I am, and I never look like much more than how I started, but amazingly, He multiplies. I put my hand to the plow, lift my efforts to heaven, say, “Use me to feed them,” and He does.

And maybe, just maybe, there will even be leftovers.

more “new things”

Jameson has been cracking us up lately. And making us think, “Man, kids are amazing. How does he know all of these phrases and concepts?” What little sponges!

Along with garage sale goodies, last week we made one of the more significant purchases of our married life: the long-awaited (by Ryan!) flat panel TV. After getting by with humongous freebies for the last four years, a rearrangement of living room furniture “necessitated” an upgrade. So one evening last week, Ryan came home with a huge box (and quickly assured me that the box was much bigger than the actual television!), and Jameson excitedly danced around, waiting to see what this obviously momentous surprise was. As Ryan opened the packaging and lifted the TV out of the box, Jameson, with wide eyes, whispered, “That’s awesome, Dad!”

We didn’t even know he knew that word! (Perhaps his uncle Merrick helped him make the association of big screens = awesome? Ha!)

The next evening as we were sitting together, I asked Jameson to do something, and he quickly replied, “No.” (Which is a new thing, but not all that funny!) Ryan promptly stood up, signifying that this was not going to pass unnoticed. Jameson just as quickly got up, sailed past his father, came to me and said, “Sorry, Mama, no-ing you. [Okay, more funniness!]” I told him I forgave him, and he turned to Ryan with a totally serious face and said in the most old-man in-charge tone of voice, “That’s it, Dad.” And went back to his seat.

We died laughing. Obviously any attempt at disciplining had been thwarted!

What’s not-so-new is the Daddy Adoration that goes on around here. William has always been enthusiastic about Ryan’s return from work, but lately, he goes into full frenzy mode the minute he hears Ryan’s voice, and I had better get him to his father quickly or else it’s hysteria! So cute, I have to say.

new things

A few new things have shown up around here this week. Not too many brand new things, really, but new to me! Every once in awhile — and I mean a great while — we’ll come upon a garage sale that is a gold mine. Last Saturday was one such sale. And then a great find turned up on craigslist, which my Ryan faithfully keeps his eye on for me. As if that’s not enough, a box of new diapering goodies came. Wow! That’s one fun week!

So I took a few pictures. They’re sort of really horrible photographs, but I had to post them anyway because, well, because I’m dying for my mom and sisters to see this stuff!


(click through)

catch-up: the girls in SF

The girls and I went to San Francisco the last Saturday they were here. (Oh, and William, too, of course.) We toured a Queen Anne style home, saw the bridge, drove up and down exceedingly steep hills, drove through Chinatown for that “Wow, am I in Beijing?” feeling, and ate wonderful Italian pastries. It was fun.

Camilla had the camera the whole day, since I’m really bad and she’s really good at such things, and it was lots of fun to download the pictures yesterday and see San Francisco through her eyes:

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home sweet home.

home…

Yesterday afternoon, we were dropped off at our front stoop — suitcases, strollers, carseats, and all. Home.

I walked through the house and was amazed at their welcoming tidiness, considering the ridiculously early hour at which we departed 18 days ago (and the crazy, hectic, hot day of packing which preceded it!) I thought, for the millionth time, how much I like our little house and how blessed I am to have this quiet piece of charm in the middle of Silicon Valley.

I also noticed that the perennials I planted several months ago are all but dead, thanks to 18 days of no water. (Things no one on the East Coast has had to worry about this year.) I hope I can coax the poor things back to green leafiness.

Jameson tripped happily from room to room, exclaiming in each one. “My bedwoom, Mama! Awww!”

We got home around 5 PST, and I was more hungry and tired than I ever remember being. So we jumped into our van and headed into Palo Alto for good ol’ Thai cooking. Followed, of course, by Red Mango. I struggled to keep my burning eyes open, and when the exhaustion was so bad I was sick and dizzy, I asked Ryan what time it was.

6:30, was his reply.

I could have cried. Please, just let me go to bed.

I managed to stick it out for two more hours before climbing between my very own sheets, in my very own room.

Of course, after making myself lay in bed for as long as possible this morning, when I got up, it was still only 5:45. That’s what ya get for going to bed so early, I guess.

…sweet home.

Green is my favorite color. Did you know that already? I only mention that because I can’t begin to describe the beauty of our first ride through lush, verdant farms 18 days ago. I couldn’t stop exclaiming. In fact, I continued to exclaim every single day for 18 days. I am probably alone in this, but I was thanking God continually for the abundant rain that kept New York beautiful, just for me. I can’t get enough.

I also can’t get enough of neat rows of corn; of small, humble houses tucked away in that corn; of hostas and day lilies, cone flowers and gloriosa daisies; of moist, sweet air and loud cracks of thunder; of wide open skies that turn pink in the evening. There are just some things I love so much.

In particular, I love a certain white house with a red roof, wrapped in a porch that I’ve painted countless times. I love a certain hallway, lined with too many shoes, that got painted a perfect salmon color the week of my wedding. I love a certain kitchen that feels like I belong, even though I can’t find a single thing anymore. I love a certain screened porch that’s quiet in the mornings and the site of a party of sorts every night. And I love knowing that upstairs, there’s my parents’ bedroom, where the door is always open (so to speak), and the bed is an invitation to sit and talk — or just to sit and be.

I just wish these two homes were not so far apart. I wish I could hang diapers in a row on my clothesline, and then walk to my mom’s for lunch. Wouldn’t that be perfect?

Just about.