Post Category → faith

first things first

The other night, as candlelight flickered on the faces of tired but eager young mothers, my mama reminded us of this passage:

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. –Deuteronomy 6.5-9

That’s all, she said. What do they need? Not Algebra 2. Not soccer. Not foreign language. Teach them about God.

*****

I needed to hear that. Sometimes, when I’m doing my best at teaching diligently, it seems so…silly. Little children, zoning out. Not sitting still. Me, trying my best. Wondering if they even understand. And sometimes, when I’m doing my best to “talk of them” during the day, a nagging worry whispers, “They’re not listening. They don’t care. Talk about something more interesting.”

But no. I will be diligent. I will be bold. I will teach them about God.

*****

The next morning, early sun illuminates those words as my Bible lies open on the kitchen table. I read again.

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart…”

So few verses addressed specifically to parents. No chapters detailing which TV shows to allow, or what age is the right age for an iPod. We may wish for that on some days, but what He gives us is far better. Two things:

Teach and talk about the Lord and His ways, yes. But first?

Love Him. With all of your heart. Completely, passionately, eternally.

*****

Listen.

Let’s love Him. For us. For them.

For Him.

toddler toes and thanks

Beatrice is not supposed to touch my phone. But sometimes she does. And sometimes I find her photography, and it is ridiculously cute:

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Other cute things in my day have included a baby, drifting to sleep…

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…a toddler, beyond excited about watching Mother Goose…

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…an oldest son writing a worship song…

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…and a baby who burst into smiles the minute I glanced her way.

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And all that before noon! Not to mention the breath taking beauty of autumn’s brilliance-and-shadows interplay out my windows.

There’s nothing adorable about my laundry pile (which I just conquered! And it’s back again!), or the frustrating mole hills in our yard, or so many other things. There are children to train and my own attitude to rule, wars in the spirit to wage, and hardships to endure.

But there is a “Rejoice always” that I so long to learn. I want to leave the fragrance of joy and thanksgiving wherever I go.

And taking a minute to enjoy those little toddler feet? That certainly helps.

interruptions and rest.

I need Thee, oh, I need Thee
Ev’ry hour I need Thee…

So true. And some hours, the needing is extra-strong.

There have been a few of those the last few days. Thursday evening, as I was putting dinner on the table, I realized that a part of me was still just waiting to get the day started. I had been “catching up” on the stuff of life all day, just waiting to get things caught up enough to begin our day’s routine. And it never happened.

Huh.

Good thing we get to try again every 24 hours!

But the really, really good thing?

That those days that never get “started” because they’re so “interrupted” — those days can still count. Interruptions and unexpected happenings are only interrupting and unexpected to us. God knows our days. Our times are in His hands. And His beautiful, good, profound work in our hearts and in the lives we touch — that doesn’t get interrupted by any curve balls life throws our way.

And when our cranky response to those curve balls does threaten to stall His work? We don’t have to wait 24 hours to try again. Repentance, grace, and help are always right there. Wide open. Just waiting.

*****

Some goodness:


Stop. Are you kidding? Those perfect fingers, plump cheeks, sweet lips? Beautiful.


Jameson left our second freezer wide open, and I discovered it 24 hours later. Yup, that was my Thursday. London broil for dinner, chicken baked and stashed in the freezer for another day, roasted turkey and lamb for the work crew down the road at my Mom’s. And interruption that worked out to be a blessing.


Me, feeling badly about not getting the school books out while cleaning the mess of a thawing freezer and cooking meat like a madwoman — look over and realize Jameson has created a football field from paper, duplos, and Lego men, and he and William played all day. That was way more creative than any lesson plan I had.


Two handsome boys. Two. Ready for the first day of Friday School. So big.


And so cute.


Beautiful CSA bounty. It feels like the best gift, every single week.


Cooking. I like to be in my kitchen.


And this? No matter how busy the day, no matter how little I get to just sit with my baby, I know that this will eventually happen. I love my Fiona-girl.


Her aunties love her, too. Her sweet face popped up in my feed last night. I said to myself, Yes. Yes, she is beautiful.


This morning, she woke up and celebrated her 6th week with us. It’s raining and cold and very October-ish. So she wears the sweater knit just for Dunphey #4 by my friend, Carol. It’s just the thing for a sweet babe.


And while Daddy and Jameson showered and dressed and headed off to church, the rest of us got wool socks and sweatshirts to layer on our pj’s. Vitamin C, chicken broth, afghans, and rest.

Rest.

Even on the busy days. The interrupted days. The I-can’t-quite-catch-up-days. There is an invitation to just rest.

family va-stay-cation

We spent a whole week at my parents’ house, with almost all of my siblings and all of our offspring. Twenty-five of us, give or take. Sleeping bags and suitcases, baseball gloves and crocs, plastic cups and favorite books — in every corner. Laughing and shouting and screen doors slamming. Coffee maker always running. Kickball or baseball constantly being played. Meals being prepped and planned and consumed. Bedtime stories and prayer by candlelight. From 5:40am till the last adult hit the sack each night, there was activity — because with that many excited people, there’s action even in the being.

Can you believe that 11 children, tired and high on the good life, can enjoy one another for a whole week with barely a squabble? That 14 adults can enjoy those children, and one another, for a whole week? That grandparents, who are “supposed” to be relishing “their” space, would be beyond thrilled to let their home be invaded, their time and energy demanded, their every moment drained? That single siblings would spend their one week of summer vacation in settling baseball disputes, painting toddler fingernails, changing diapers so their mama-sisters can have a break, carrying babies, making sandwiches, sharing beds with little people whose little feet kick all night long?

I come away and think, This. This is pro-life. This is pro-Kingdom. This is pro-God. This is the joy of lives that have said a thousand times at a thousand junctures, You increase, I’ll decrease.

And I see on my children’s faces that their little hearts are cups overflowing with the ministry of love.


Most of us, heading out along a bike path.


Brothers, happy and full.


Mama does not buy carbonated treats, but Nana. Nana does.


William shares his appreciation at the big joint party.


How days begin.


Early morning entertainment.


Pretending to be Almanzo.


Most of us at the Almanzo Wilder Farm.


Blueberries!

Summer memories worth savoring. Family moments that build. Blessed kids.

ramblings

Tonight, my feet are sore. They protest when I require they carry 40 extra pounds around all day.

Ryan has been trying to juggle many things this summer, including our slow but steady bathroom reno. This week, floors are oiled. Tonight, a toilet is installed. Tomorrow, the sink arrives.

We took a walk after dinner this evening. Well, more like a romp through our fields. The mosquitos finally drove us back to our neatly mowed lawn, but watching boys and toddler girl run willy-nilly, laughing and yelling, was worth a few [dozen] bites.

I’m feeling the squeeze to be ready for a new baby — not just the birth, but the life that comes after, which in this case includes birthdays and school year beginnings. I’m trying to stick to my list of what is actually important, since hormones inspire me to do random and crazy overhauls.

I’m also realizing that the squeeze I feel needs to be harnessed and used to bless my family, rather than be allowed to take over and steal joy, peace, and time. We will do our best to pull together and get some things organized. But in the meantime, time does not stand still. My freckled boy is about to turn 7. Seven! And William is going to be 5 right after that, leaving “little boy” status behind. And Beatrice has grown so tall, talks so much, and is so happily independent that I have to go out of my way to snuggle her for a few minutes here and there. Their lives are being lived, and each day is an opportunity to sow Kingdom seed.

I’m thinking lots about being a wise woman who builds her house, and of being a pillar, sculpted in palace style. Strength. Stability. Shelter. Even in the ebb and tide of ninth-month hormones, I am called to be those things. And if I daily choose to abide in the life-giving Vine, the grace and power to fulfill that calling will be there.

I’m also thinking lots about sleep. Which is what I will now indulge in — and my aching feet will thank me!

from our field

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