eight months, moving, and Truth

:-%,/|} Today I’m bored with starting new sections with “-“, “*”, “:.”, and “::”, so I came up with “:-%,/|}”. Whaddya think?

:-%,/|} Jameson is 8 months old today. This is amazing to me, mostly because I don’t remember spending all day and all night of eight months with him. I still feel like he just arrived!

But no. He’s been around long enough to start figuring the world out. He knows what he wants, and pushes away anything I try to pacify him with. His adorable forward-scooch upgraded today into a modified military crawl, and he’s realized that he can use it to move distances. While I realize that there’s nothing particularly adorable about creeping on the floor, I find it hard to not just stand and watch him move. MY baby is MOVING! Amazing! “Mama’s so proud of you!,” the little guy hears all the time! And a close second in recurring statements is, “No, no, don’t touch/eat that!”

He loves to be silly and get tickled. Peek-a-boo continues to hold its status of possessing universal appeal.

He went to the nursery for the first time this week. I think this was actually more distracting for me, and my entire row, as my eyes were continually watching for my number to appear, indicating a complete Jameson-meltdown. And yes, he can cry with the best of them.

He has six teeth, soon to be eight. That must be the worst part of being a baby.

He talks more and more, and now even his cries have definition — especially the one that means, “I’m totally bored and want to be picked up, but in the meantime, I’ll just experiment with how many ways I can move my tongue.”

So yes. Eight months ago, he was born. I’m so thankful for him, and the message he is that God knows best — you can trust Him.

:-%,/|} As Bri said, the mother’s day message was “off the hook!” (That would be Ryan’s influence.) Absolutely amazing. I won’t mention that it should be posted online, because that job would fall to my husband, who already has too much on his plate right now. But really, it should be posted online.

:-%,/|} The moving company sent someone to come and give us a quote this morning. I now know that I have less than 4,000 pounds of stuff. At least, I hope it’s less. At $1/lb, I’m rooting for less, not more. It was weird to walk through the apartment and think of packing everything up. Moving it. Leaving.


Going is fun. Leaving is sad. Too bad you can’t do one without the other.

Yet another thing I like about heaven: you never have to leave.

:-%,/|} As I mentioned, things are a bit undone around here, thanks to me not keeping up with my chore schedule. Know what’s funny? From the age of 4 or 5 until Jameson was born, I have lived by a schedule and routine. While feeling totally undone after having a baby, I realized that it probably had a bit to do with the fact that, for the first time in my life, I didn’t have a regimen for every day of the week.

Boy, do I like routine.

More like Looooove routine.

And I’ve realized, in this last month of slacking off, that one reason I like having my responsibilities assigned and scheduled is that it’s the only way to live ahead of the natural entropy of life. Instead of my housework being a reaction to what’s the dirtiest, I’m cleaning before it gets bad. I like that feeling. And I’ve always been that way. I was not the student who crammed for a test, or only practiced because I had a concert coming up.

Our souls thrive in order, and order comes through routine.

Okay. That was my little pep talk. Get back on the ball, Danica.

:-%,/|} Being goal-oriented is not fun much of the time. Just when I think I’ve mastered the art of focusing on people, I realize I haven’t at all. Like, last week I thought about how I’ve gotten better about waking up and thinking about what would bless Ryan and Jameson — and then making my to-do list with them in mind. Wow, Danica. Way to put people first. But then I realized that as soon as I’ve determined what will bless them, I have to get those things done, and heaven forbid Ryan or Jameson (or anyone else) get in my way.

Oh dear. Dying to self is hard. Does everyone else know that? Is it only me who is surprised by how hard it continues to be?


:-%,/|} This has been on my heart the last few days, “Behold, children are a gift of the LORD, the fruit of the womb is a reward.”

How much self there is that stands between us and truly understanding that. I was inspired again as I heard my father praising my mother for embracing that truth completely — even though it meant so much death.

But as with all Kingdom principles, that initial death is only that true life may come. And all of the selfishness that clouds our vision will be shown for the pathetic guise of happiness that it really is when we decide to embrace what God calls truth.

In this, as well as in our ideas of womanhood, our culture has wandered so far from a biblical standard that a moderately secular worldview becomes palatable to us. But there is so much more to be discovered, and so much more joy and freedom to be found, in the whole truth of God.

Lord, open my eyes, so “[I] will know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints, and what is the surpassing greatness of His power toward us who believe.”

4 Comments eight months, moving, and Truth

  1. nancy

    thanks for taking the time for a rambley-totally inside scoop-ish post that lets me in on your world. You are one of the people I never have enough time with.
    Let’s go to Spain again. Just you & I.

    sorry. lost my head for just a moment.

  2. lore

    oh dear. this leaving thing is really feeling real suddenly. i await august with hope and excitement. that said, i’ll post details as soon as i have them, but a girl in my class found this fabulous deal with tickets to cali for 100 one-way. i’ll be booking them this week you’d better believe it!

  3. Angela

    did you get my email? this is a good post. dying to self is extremely hard and i am not good at it. i was talking with someone about that same thing a month ago or so.


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