Post Category → faith

January, in a nutshell.

January was, in many ways, exactly the sort of month I anticipated: slow.

And not just slow. It was definitely a shift into survive where necessary, so that in the important things, we could continue to thrive.

It was a month of many, many naps for me — and lots of days where I never got out of my pajamas. Several mornings found me on the couch, and while my three care-takers perhaps didn’t always contribute to a very restful nap, their tender words and awkward attempts at tucking me in with afghans blessed me so very much. I don’t want to forget William’s sweet kisses on my forehead this past month.

Things had to slip — anything more than basic cleaning had to wait for a second trimester burst of energy, and that’s okay. Getting into a school routine after the holidays took a bit longer than I may have planned, but I don’t think Jameson’s future was too terribly affected. I did not even once want to write on this blog, because there just wasn’t energy for extra thoughts. There are seasons, and I think I’m starting to learn how to receive grace and direction for this tired and yucky one.

Taking our days more slowly, and trying to just hold on to the important things, meant that—amazingly!—I was able to walk almost every morning (save for this past week of sub-zero!) I’m really, really thankful for those 30 minutes of fresh air and exercise each day. I glanced through my journal recently and found an entry in August, praying for the Lord to give me ideas of how I could possibly incorporate regular exercise into my life. So more than being thankful for a morning walk, I’m just thankful that the Lord hears us and answers.

I also am five successful weeks into a Read-Through-the-Bible program. Another huge success, as I’ve utterly failed every time I’ve tried such a thing for the past 15 years. (I read through it so easily when I was 16, and haven’t been able to since!) Laugh if you want, but I googled “Bible plans for moms”, thinking there’d be some bite-sized option out there, and I found Bible Reading Plan for Slackers and Shirkers. Somehow, it’s working, and I’m really enjoying the variety of each day. Another thank you to the Lord.

Regina, my midwife, came this month and brought her handy-dandy list of high-iron foods. I’m trying to get a jump start on my iron levels by downing Floradix like crazy, as well as eating spinach omelets, almonds, bran flakes, apricots, hummus, and lots of other iron-rich foods. Staying on track with such intentional eating isn’t always easy when I’m too tired to care, but the boys remind me to take my Floradix and eat my bran flakes. They’re excited about this baby, after all!

Jameson is doing well with his school work, which we’ve kept very basic this month. He has reached a point in reading where he is inspired by his own accomplishments. Each book that he “conquers” just fuels his passion for learning more. He’s a natural at math. In every subject, his learning curve is focus. He loves to help me, and the “bigger” the job, the better. If he senses that I’m depending on him to take charge of something, he eagerly rises to the occasion. If anything, we have to have talks about being too helpful!

William is just pretty happy all the time. He loves his Playmobil, much more than Jameson (who prefers the mental challenge of a new Lego set to engaging his imagination), and he’s often in a corner of the family room, lost in the world of knights and dragons and castles. He also loves to be read to—still!—and so I try to grab a minute here and there to cuddle with just him and read him a favorite story. He’s less excited about work than Jameson, but he’s learning diligence and responsibility, and he loves to care for Beatrice and me.

Beatrice is changing every day. She runs through the house on her tip toes, clutching her dolly. She is experimenting with terrorizing her brothers, and has perfected her protest of “Noooo!” She’s cuddly and spunky and loves to make us all laugh with her antics. Books are her favorite: she pulls them all off her toddler-height shelf, and then chooses from the pile on the floor. Picking them up is not her favorite thing to do, but obedience in general isn’t her favorite thing. She always sizes me up when I give her a command, determining whether or not I really mean it. Spunky, I tell you!

The absolutely best part of this past month, though, has been watching both boys being drawn by the Holy Spirit, and genuinely responding. Whether it be in worship at church, family devotions, while reading a biography of Amy Carmichael, at a prayer meeting, or listening to a sermon, I have been beyond blessed to see their tender hearts shining in teary eyes. Ryan and I have been asking for fresh passion and surrender to the things of the Lord, and it’s spilling down to our kids. Biggest thank you of all to the Lord.

So, here we are. I’m coming out of my fog, and looking forward to feeling more like my usual self — but at the same time, realizing how much God doesn’t need me and my best self to accomplish His purpose in our lives. I’m so thankful. He holds our days, present and future. That’s a good place to live.

january 2013

This New Year’s Day, a simple prayer grips my heart: Here I am, send me.

Wonderful Savior, my heart belongs to thee
I will remember always the blood You shed for me
Wonderful Savior, my heart will know Your worth
So let me embrace You always as I walk this earth

Be blessed, be loved, be lifted high
Be treasured here, be glorified
I owe my life to You, my Lord
Here I am

Beautiful Jesus, how may I bless Your heart?
Knees to the earth I bow down to everything You are
Beautiful Jesus, You are my only worth
So I will embrace You always as I walk this earth

(Listen here.)

a light has come

Watching Mary, heavy with child, slowly circle her way towards her deliverance is just a symbol. We all are weary, groaning, aching for deliverance.

And deliverance has come, and deliverance is coming.

We weep at the reality of evil. But evil is an acknowledgement of righteousness, and for this, we have but one hope: Jesus.

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

november 21

The boys are obsessed with Monopoly.

This week has been Thanksgiving vacation, because I said so. Jameson was thrilled when I told him so on Monday morning, and ran off singing, “I don’t have to do any Ma-ath!” Of course, he then proceeded to set out Monopoly, and has been adding and subtracting ever since. Don’t tell him how much ma-ath he’s doing, okay?

Yes, three mornings in a row. Extending long into the day, when Mama allows. (And a “new” corner, after I went on a little rearranging spree last night.)

Two days of just trying to get things crossed off has resulted in… well, not much. Ha! But regardless of how much gets “done”, there is always living that happens. I think I’m really starting to learn and appreciate that fact. Of course, waking up to a house in a cloud really helps one to just focus on the things (and lives) right here. I think I could use a few more cloud-wrapped days!

Our little house on a hill is wrapped in cloud this morning.

I rearranged lamps last night. And bookshelves. Bringing “cozy” into our home is one of my favorite things, and the highlight of the colder, darker months. Summer living happens outside, and the house becomes nothing more than the refueling station. But now, in these short days and long nights, fireplaces and chairs with afghans and books readily at hand — those things shine. Of course, those things are only tools: What’s really happening is an invitation to come, be together, pause, laugh, talk, rest.

The sun, trying its best.

We are talking about thankfulness lately. (Of course.) Thankfulness is enjoying quite the rise in popularity, as t-shirts and throw pillows and cross-stitched wall hangings remind us to love friends, be thankful for friends, count our blessings, and generally be positive about life. This all reminds me of something I read several years ago: The thing about thankfulness is that it inherently requires a recipient. When the pillow encourages you to “be thankful for family and friends”, who is it you’re thanking?

I want my children to not just see me being positive about the good things in life, but to hear me thanking God for His many blessings. My thank yous need to be addressed to the Giver, not some black hole of positivism.

This song is a favorite, and I’ve been appreciating the reminder to be vocal with praise and thanks.

november 13

So, yes. The weekend flew by, and somehow swept Monday right along with it. Unseasonably warm weather, almost the whole Sinclair family in one house on the same day, and husbands with the day off convincing the rest of us that we, too, should take a vacation day results in, well, a vacation!

Today it’s back to being 40 degrees, give or take. So the boys drew fantastic pictures of “November is… bare trees”, and “November is… football!” My boys do not just sit and draw, unless it’s the beginning of the school year and there are all new drawing utensils (of course). I usually have to assign such creative pursuits — and once assigned, they throw themselves into it. (Hmmm. I think I need to come up with drawing assignments more often.)

*****

Jameson lost his first tooth Sunday morning. He exuberantly bounced into the kitchen, eyes beaming, mouth full of blood. Ha! We dutifully saved his eensy-weensy tooth, and then Ryan told some elaborate tall tale about a tooth fairy tapping on the window and fluttering around the room while they slept. William, who is far too clever to fall for such yarns, declared that he “knowed” the tooth fairy did no such thing; he would have heard the rapping and woken up. So there. We’re not sure whether or not he realizes the tooth fairy is completely non-existent, or if he’s just quite confident in his sharp hearing skillz. Either way, he’s ridiculously cute, and we’ll keep him. Also, Jameson will keep the dough, regardless of the realness of said tooth fairy.

*****

Sometimes, like today, I go into my room to check on my sleeping babe, and I find a wide-eyed, smiling, frowsy-headed darling. Her cheeks are irresistibly pink in the morning, and her chubby arms and hands are just that much softer. Over a year later, she’s still greeted with joy and celebration by her brothers every morning. She just may feel like the most special girl in the world. (And that wouldn’t be far from the truth. As we read at naptime, God said, “Let there be Beatrice”, and then saw that it was good. Pretty special, if you ask me.)

*****

Our school day routine includes devotions after breakfast. This is when our home turns into part church, part circus, part tyrranical-toddler-grabs-every-candle-while-her-mom-is-trying-to-memorize-scripture. I love it. We’ve had such wonderful little conversations, Ryan has been able to teach their little hearts so many important truths, and we get to pray for so many people that we love. I’m not kidding about the toddler part, though. After being told many times to sit down, here she is. Gotta love a little spunk, right?

*****

Day after day. Weeks, months, years. I’m alternately exhausted by the big events, and worried that the small days are amounting to nothing. My worry knows no end, when allowed to run its course. Thankfully, thankfully, my job is not to orchestrate our lives. There’s the Holy Spirit for that sort of thing. He weaves and guides and creates beauty in ways I’m astonished by, in ways I’ll not even know the whole of until I’m looking at Time from Eternity. For now, faithfulness is my portion: being faithful to believe, to repent, to trust, to live for Him.

november 5

Listen.

That’s the word that I finally heard as I sat in quiet this evening. Listen.

Some days, I’m a chicken with my head cut off, dashing, darting, furiously trying to stay ahead. Most days, I’m more like a bulldozer: not especially fast, but not especially interested in doing anything other than moving ahead, so step aside. Hardly any days do I resemble a listening follower, much less a listening mother.

Listen.

I sit in silence, a flickering candle, Beatrice nursing, then falling into deep sleep. I reflect. There is a Voice speaking to me, trying to get my attention, willing to give wisdom and guidance. I hear that Voice, quiet, politely trying to interject. Do I listen? Not always.

I quench the Spirit.

Quench the Spirit.

And oh, that makes me sad. Really, really sad. God Himself wants to speak eternal perspective and the power of grace! He does! Will I listen??

Speak, Lord, for Your servant is listening. Listening.

And these precious little ones, so in tune with the little details of their little lives — they need me to listen, too. Their eyes are wide, their ears aware, their hearts absorbing. I glance towards the back of the van and see Jameson looking out the window — eyes practically pulsing with the speed at which he’s absorbing this world around him. What does he see? What is he thinking? What does he want to say? Listen.

See that boy, being amazed by the simple miracle of eggs + high heat? Be like him. Slow down. Listen.

And say yes.