Date Archives → August 2012

making plans, following his lead

Halfway through get-ready-for-school week:

Crayons, pencils, construction paper, glue.

Books that teach reading, books that teach math, books that teach piano, books that tell stories, books to just learn.

Chore charts revamped, priorities sorted, schedules made.

A list of projects that may or may not be realistic in the remaining days.

Doing my best. That’s what this all represents: me taking my responsibility as homemaker, nutritionist, school teacher, character developer, and job trainer seriously. I do my best to sort out pie-in-the-sky idealism — this isn’t about creating the quintessential homeschool, whole foods, wholesome kids setting: it’s about honoring God to the best of my abilities.

I sit on my stoop Monday morning, coffee in hand, looking out over the glistening dew on our fields, and I ponder this. I remind my soul: this is for the Lord. He wants us to grow in work ethic, in attitude, in ability, in wonder, in body, and all of this is our eager response to that desire. All of my plans, my schedules, my charts — simply an effort to honor and grow. So then, I remind my soul, of course He can change my plans, interrupt our days. If this is all really for Him — if, indeed, this is about more than just controlling every moment of our lives and seeing it run the way I have planned — then He is free to lead our lives. All of the things I want to teach and the character I want to impart through these schedules and activities can only truly be brought about by the Holy Spirit.

He is the ultimate School Master. I must remind myself of this. Every day.

May my heart be oriented towards Jesus, not toward my methods.

letter to Beatrice

Dear Beatrice Elaine,

You are one.

Today, under a canopy of brightest blue punctuated by clouds of white, you stood on your own in the middle of the sea of grass that is your yard. You smiled, laughed, at your proud accomplishment, giddy with the sense of how big the world was around you. You are leaving babyhood behind.

On your first birthday, you already had mastered quite a string of accomplishments: standing alone, two wobbly steps in succession, a mouthful of teeth including 2 (almost 4!) molars to celebrate your momentous day, 5 weeks of eating anything I cared to share from the table, and climbing out of the basket in which you sleep. Your brothers, by the way, never felt any need to even try such a thing. But you are not quite like them, are you? Daddy and I are always looking at each other and saying, “Did the boys do all this quite so young? No, I don’t think they did!” You, in your very quiet way, are taking life by the horns. There is strength and determination in you.


A table of small, feminine things: my favorite.

You’re my little girl. Just by your tiny presence, wrapped in a pink blanket, you interrupted life as we had known it and demanded that we make room for a girl. Perhaps it was simply that fact, but you were the first baby to seem so much like a person right from birth. We hesitated with naming you too quickly, because you somehow seemed like, well, like you already had a name, and we were just trying to articulate it. We were delighted to welcome you as our resident princess, and to make room for all you would become. Family shapes us as individuals, and you brought a whole new nuance to the family we were.

You also brought whole new ideas about baby. I was flabbergasted to realize that you would, left on your own, simply drift to sleep for hours on end. You would let anyone in the world hold you. You would sit with me quite happily and just watch life. If life got busier when we went from two children to three, it was only because your brothers got busier: you were only ever happy and quiet. Taking care of you was like playing house. “Are you for real?”, I’d whisper to you, as you fell asleep with a smile, woke up with a smile, laid on the floor staring at the ceiling fan with a smile, ride in the car for hours with a smile… I looked forward to each evening, when I’d put the boys to bed and then just stare at you for an hour or more. You were beautiful, and you quieted my heart. A gift.


The boys’ gifts and cards, created and arranged all on their own. Such excitement!

The boys love you immensely, and have from the beginning. They still talk to you in sing-song baby tones, and fall over themselves trying to help get your bib, your highchair, your barrette — anything to take care of you. They oooh and ahhh over your pretty dresses and sweet shoes, and making you laugh is one of their greatest delights. You are very generous with your laughs, of course. You’re the first of our one-year olds to be so celebrated by their siblings: the boys had already made you cards and tied ribbons on their very favorite stuffed animals by the time you woke up yesterday, and you were greeted with an overwhelming chorus of Happy Birthdays — uttered along with plenty of jumping, dancing, hugging and kissing. I love watching you three smile at each other.

You’re Daddy’s girl, and you will do anything to get his attention when he walks in the room. Fake laughs, fake cries, silly faces, crawling over his laptop — anything. He can get more giggles from you than anyone else can, and when he scoops you up and takes you on an errand, your smile says that you feel like the most special girl in the world.

Oh, how I love you! My heart aches, wanting to go back and do this past year just one more time. Every single moment with you has been a delight. Now we’re moving towards Little Girl years, and while I’ll cherish memories of brand new you, I’m so excited to learn more about you and teach you more about Jesus. You were born just as the first traces of pink were lighting the sky, vanquishing the darkness of night. And you, Bringer of Light, will continue to do just that as you walk through life. You will bring laughter, strength, joy, and determination — but most of all, you will bring light to those who walk in darkness. And I’m excited to see that.

I feel so blessed and honored to have you to care for.

I love you forever,

Mama


I’m afraid I didn’t do well at getting many pictures, but here she is, surrounded by excited siblings and cousins.

family vacation

On July 28th, after weeks of anticipation, our little family packed our van with everything “fun” and drove to a little cottage on a lake. It was the best.

Quiet, focused, away, invested, purposed, connected, together. I put my phone in a cupboard and seldom retrieved it. My laptop got pulled out one late night when I thought I might do a bit of birthday shopping. Otherwise, it was just Ryan and the kids. I looked at little faces and enjoyed every freckle; watched boys play and didn’t ever jump up to do the IMPORTANT THING I FORGOT; listened to Ryan because he had time to think and talk. We wondered if we’d go a little crazy, stuck in a spot in the woods for an entire week. Nope. I could see ourselves unwinding for the first two days — slowly losing the go-go-go, slowly forgetting how to feel minutes ticking, learning how to let days roll by without any concern about what was next.

Jameson and I were in the lake every morning, as bright and early as we could manage. (There’s nothing like having devotions in the warm morning sun after a quick dip.) We watched for the loons that would occasionally swim by, their funny calls alerting us to their presence. William played for hours in the shallow water. Ryan took everyone for boat rids, including three one-kid-at-a-time trips (which were, of course, a highlight.) We ate every meal outside — but then, where else would you eat hotdogs roasted over the fire? Jameson discovered that kayaking is every bit as wonderful as he’s dreamed it to be. We all enjoyed the lakeside hot tub. We got water in our ears. The sunscreen worked like a charm, so it’s obvious who didn’t use it [*cough* Ryan *cough*]. I read a whole book. We packed games and movies and books in case of rain, but every single days was sunny.

There were lots of “I love you”s. There were also lots of “Thank You so much, God”s.

[more pics]