This little one! Oh, but she makes us smile. And laugh! So much laughter because of Enid and her antics. So many older siblings who will drop everything to comfort her, do anything to get one more smile from her. Only 8 months old but somehow so fully aware of how she belongs to us, and that we belong to her. She is curious, energetic, happy, playful, and (no surprise) happiest in the middle of a lot of hubbub. No, really. The very middle of everything.
More birthday-celebrating, more time-marching. Lots of deep breaths for this mama, as already shadows of grief for days long gone occasionally pass over my soul. We looked at pictures of brand new baby Fiona, held by by a little Jameson and William with 2yo Beatrice in the background, and once again I just couldn’t believe that that will never happen or be again. Sometimes I can just sigh and shrug and smile, and sometimes it’s more painful. But whether I smile or cry, the truth of it remains: those days are gone and today is what I have to cherish, invest in, and give thanks for.
Yesterday we celebrated Fiona and her fifth birthday. She is so easy and delightful. She wakes up smiling, ready to play and dance and sing her way through the day. Once in a while, the cloud of anger will pass over her face when something doesn’t go quite her way, but she quickly returns to a smile and kindness, only occasionally requiring my help to do so. She has long been a tremendous friend to Beatrice, and now is becoming one to Cecily as she grows old enough to play and talk and be a friend in return. She swims without fear, thrives in a theatrical environment, loves friends and laughter, is eager to learn piano, and does her little chores at home with diligence and pride. She is a treasure.
This cake was dreamed about and discussed for an entire year: chocolate, layers, pink frosting, pearls, and strawberries in the middle. She knows what she wants!
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And along the lines of time slipping by, this little one is getting chubbier and smilier every single day. Goodness, I love her!
Here we are, August. August! I cut a bunch of echinacea and rudbeckia and couldn’t even believe it. What happened to the peonies? Scratch that. Where are the daffodils? How are we here already?!
But oh, we have filled these days. Some filled with the nothing that summertime begs for, some filled with much anticipated activities. Soccer camp, swim lessons, and musical theater camp — far more here and there than our usual summer schedule, but it has been so much fun and just right for this year.
What hasn’t happened this year is much [any] gardening. The grass is growing quite well between hardy perennials, despite the fact that hot and dry weather has left the lawn looking brown and crunchy. I’ve never experimented with total neglect, and I can’t recommend it, but a new baby in May has bumped weeding and pruning waaaay down the totem pole. The good news is I haven’t lost anything, and hopefully that will still be true next spring. There’s a time for everything, I guess.
Last week I decided on and ordered our books for the coming school year, so that means this week will see us purging and tidying the school cupboard once again. I’m both excited about all we’ll learn and dreadfully sad that our summer days will end in a few weeks. There’s a time for everything.
*****
Old familiar tasks done in a new beautiful kitchen.
Evening walks in nightgowns and pjs.
Mama’s rug in my room.
Learning croquet.
Wagon full of beauty.
Three soccer players!
Enid’s regular activity. (Some days.)
Up bright and early every swim-lesson morning! So proud of just that, never mind the swim progress.
Cousins made it even more fun.
Sister love.
An early NOT swim morning by myself.
Donning ballet slippers.
Constant companion, growing and changing and more loved every day.
Summer is the time for bumping into friends you haven’t seen and asking, “How have you been?”
In case you’re wondering, this is how I’ve been:
She is my constant companion these days, as I read to the kids or stir a pot or oversee play or email and call — she is most often in my arms. There is something about these fragile baby days that astounds me. She needs me. Life and death, no exaggeration, needs me.
As I serve her and her most basic needs, putting them above my own desires or needs, I am serving Christ. ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’
As I serve her, showing her gentleness and love in my manner, I am showing Christ to her. I am shaping her first ideas of what love is, and her own worth.
And as I serve her, I am struck by how I am perfectly designed to meet her needs. Uniquely qualified. This is a physical truth I can see with my eyes that speaks to shades of doubt that lurk in my heart. I am a nurturer, a life-giver. I am called to strength and courage, kindness and gentleness. On my own, I am not all or any of the things I need to be. But my belief in Intelligent Design grounds me, and my faith in the Holy Spirit equips me.
As she looks to me, I am reminded again and again to look to Him. He is all — everything — we need.
Our quiet month of June ended, and we jumped, full speed ahead, into July. Fourth of July, a trip to Maine, and now a month of camps and lessons and such for the kids. Other things, too, for another blog post.
These are the days when I am so thankful for the pictures taken and moments captured. It flies by.
On Saturday, we celebrated one month of life with Enid.
Beatrice is trying to grasp concepts of space and time, and causing plenty of amusement along the way. (Looking at a map’s scale: An inch is the same as a mile??? Upon hearing a movie was made when Nana was a little girl: So it’s like 3,000 years old?) She gently caressed Enid’s soft head and got contemplative when I said, she’s one month old — eleven more times, and it will be a whole year. Even little Beatrice knows, too fast. They debate almost daily whether she’s small or big. Still so tiny, getting so big. Her legs are filling out and her wrists have a heavy dose of rubber band going on, but curled up in a ball with her legs and feet folded in that newborn way, she still fits right on my chest.
Yesterday, Monday, we celebrated 13 years of marriage. Over a third of my life, Ryan commented. It doesn’t seem that long, not at all, but then again, what a lot of days we’ve lived together, built together. So much laughing and crying and fighting and forgiving and child rearing and meal sharing and traveling and moving and house renovating and people loving and business building and “can you grab a gallon of milk?”ing. And learning to do all that as an expression of our Jesus-loving.
Favorite, richest things about life with Ryan: his incredible wisdom, prophetic insight, and clear vision for life in the Kingdom of God. This hand-to-the-plow, gets-lost-in-the-furrows girl needs those things, and God has provided them. For a couple of first-borns, we make a good team. Oh, sure, there’s plenty of tension in the yoke many days, when we have our headstrong tendencies and they’re not the same. That only makes it all the more amazing to realize we’re finding a rhythm together, and it’s really good.
We spent an afternoon and evening together, and I took these awesome romantic photos of it. Oops. Guess I’m not always the best photographer.
Happy 13th to my best friend. A day spent with you has long been my favorite kind of day. How blessed are we to have been given so many to spend together.