Our house is dressed for Thanksgiving. We read a book — at least one, thanks to their popularity! — almost every morning to learn more about the Pilgrims. Our verse memorization has been heavy on the “rejoice”, “praise”, and “be thankful” theme.
And every time I look up — I mean, really shake myself awake from the fog that so easily surrounds me each day — I just can’t get over how much I have to be thankful for. This is a good start. Just a start. But a really good one.
I realized that I haven’t written much about Beatrice. Beatrice, who confounds and delights me daily. The fact that I can lay her on the couch, and she quietly stares at the ceiling fan and then finally dozes off for a 2+ hour nap is simply a marvel to me. I loved my boys, yes I did, and didn’t begrudge them any of the hours we spent nursing to sleep (only to wake up 15 minutes after being laid down.) Babies are meant to be cared for, whatever that may mean. But this Baby Beatrice — she is definitely easier! She loves to suck her thumb, and with the free hand she either squeezes her own chubby cheek or plays with her ear. She loves to laugh and smiles freely at anyone who will simply look her in the eye. In the late evening, she breaks into a stream of babble that is quite delightful. And her brothers can’t get enough of her — or of her girly wardrobe with ruffles and rosettes and ballet socks!
She’s growing so much. I realized the poor thing has rather been denied in the arena of toys and such, as I still have it in my head that she’s far too young for such things. Not true! Time to replenish the baby toy stash. Maybe her Christmas stocking won’t be so empty after all.
I absolutely love this little doll of mine.
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This letter, written by Amy Carmichael, has been often read these last two weeks:
I have been thinking of you as you begin work today. The story of the man who said, “I have nothing to set before him”, has been helping me this morning (not for the first time). It says so exactly what I so often feel. “A friend of mine in his journey has come to me and I have nothing to set before him” — no, not even a crumb.
I expect you also often feel like that. I can well understand how the devil will make you feel like that poor man who had nothing to give and went in the night to borrow three loaves. But the end of the story is very comforting, “He will rise and give him as many as he needs.” As much as you need to do His will and help others, these travellers in life’s difficult journey, will be given to you to give. There will be no shortage from the heavenly point of view. So meet the devil’s depressing whisper, as I pray this morning that I may, with that dear word, “as many as he needs”, and be at peace.
I’ve never, ever gone this long without updating my blog. Never. But for whatever reason — busy, foggy head, other thing to do, can’t put it in words, first I’ll download all my photos — I haven’t written here in so long that I actually forgot the url to get here. Just for a second, but still. I forgot it.
And yes, we’ve been busy. I know we have, although if you ask me what we did this week, you’ll get a strange blank stare in response. I have no idea. But here we are, at the end of another week. And the three littlest of us are bigger. Hopefully I’m a bit smaller. I’m only three months postpartum, you know.
We’ve started kindergarten. Is it okay that I sort of smirk when I say that? Because how can this be school? Sitting at the table all together for an hour or so, littlest boy putting together puzzles all by himself (William’s achievement: learning diligence), coloring, putting an entire sheet of stickers on a small square of paper; bigger boy thumping his pencil in rhythm on his new book, carefully writing what looks like the distant relatives of what you might recognize as letters, quickly and without any teaching at all whipping through math pages. All of us with heads together learning about the Titanic and volcanoes and picture books just for fun. Pointing at the globe to find the Yangtze river, France, Ohio, and Maine. Coloring, painting, collecting leaves. Taking brisk[ish] walks and talking about geese. Making a list of things to cook just for fun this winter. And the much-anticipated Little House reading at naptime. (They were so sad to leave Laura when we started Farmer Boy, but I think they’re starting to come around.) And (my favorite part!) going to the library to collect the lovely pile of books that are waiting for us. Goodness, I love the internet!
Of course, that’s just part of our day. There are daily chores, the morning routine that takes forever. (How does it do that? Dressed, showered, laundry, quiet time, breakfast — and it feels like the day is gone!) There are meals, errands, visits, baths. Some days it feels like I’m drowning in an ocean of things-to-be-done. (And so I sit down and cry.) Some days I tell the ocean that I just don’t care, and those days go much better. (Although the ocean is still there, and I’m still not quite sure what to do about it. Besides live for 20 more years. That always seems to help with perspective and things-to-be-done.)
William has turned three (and I never even wrote about him — I just realized that!). It is the best age ever. I love every funny little thing he says, the quirky observations about life, the faulty logic that seems so very logical to them. Just love it. Fridays are our morning together, and we read lots of books. Both boys like to hear stories, but William will quite happily sit through a huge stack of books and be perfectly happy. Today we also went out to The Big Rock. Because it’s a beautiful day. At least, that’s what William said when he was trying to convince me to go out and play with him. Who can resist? That is not faulty logic.
Beatrice is big. She is, I know it, try as hard as I may to ignore it. She smiles and coos and absolutely is a love.
And me? I am loving being here in the North Country. There are so many wonderful people, so many new people, just so many people. I love getting to know them, having them in my home, learning their children’s names and their occupations and where they grew up and what puts the twinkle in their eye. People are important. People are fragile. People are worth it.
That’s what I’m thinking about right now, anyway.
And maybe I’ll write again soon. Because there’s lots more to think about.