Post Category → faith

faith that works

Last night, a beautifully seasoned mother shared with a roomful of eager listeners — young moms who are seeking to know how, or just simply see with our own eyes that it is possible. I’m only 31, and already, I am ready to give a standing ovation to anyone who is simply running with endurance. Before this woman opened her mouth to speak, I was already struck by how many days she has woken up and chosen Jesus — and I know, because life is life, that a good share of those mornings weren’t sunshine and rainbows. Isn’t it amazing? Don’t you marvel? Don’t you realize, more and more, that just standing is a marvelous testimony of grace? And deserving of the highest medals and honors? Because it’s work. It’s putting hands to plows, applying hearts to promises not seen, feeble knees refusing to bend, deciding to praise when the whole world seems to be caving in. It is the substance and evidence — the visible, tangible, undeniable proof — of things unseen. It is beautiful.

And so I ponder. Today I think about the wonderful work I am called to: the work of worshiping, of believing, of thanking, of confessing, of meditating, of trusting and obeying. And in turn, the work He does in a heart that is purposing to be His: the work of refining, of transforming, of sanctifying, and setting free.

I want to give myself to that work with fresh passion. I want to give my life to Jesus.

Easter, etc.

Lots of things get squeezed out of the routine these days. But one thing I miss is writing here regularly. Sure, I have my journal, but the bits of thoughts and prayers that land in there don’t begin to capture the life I’m living with this little family. And so. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that for a month, I’m going to write on this blog every single day. Even if it’s just a picture.

Phew. Here we go.

William. William makes my heart smile these days. Last week, I walked into the family room one afternoon and found that he had built a little pillow fort with Beatrice inside, and he was just having a blast talking to her and “playing” with her. She obliged by laughing and kicking her feet and seeming to be excited about whatever it was her brother was doing.

A few nights ago, we had big treat: a movie in the family room, and an assortment of chocolate-dipped butter cookies. I told the boys three each. And then I watched while William’s fingers hovered above the tin, not moving until he saw which cookie Jameson took, and then quickly grabbing the exact same kind. All three cookies matched. That’s my little William these days — suddenly wanting to be just like Jameson.

Today we sat on the couch and cuddled with his new Easter book for quite awhile, and when it was done, his sweet voice asked, “Mama? Can woo tuddle wid me for a few minutes?” (Translation: Can you cuddle with me.) Uh, yeah!

His eyes sparkle and his smirk is just the best. He’s stubborn and opinionated and totally content and skips through the house and makes “rushing wind” sounds whenever he runs. He’s the best little William.

We got dressed up for Easter. All of the clothes were ironed days ahead of time, and hanging in the closet of excited boys. Jameson’s first impression of his madras shirt was that it was too pink, but I said, “Oh, no! See, William’s looks like water, and yours looks like fire!” And that settled it — the shirt was officially okay. Can you believe the stuff you pull out of thin air when you’re a mom?

I set my alarm for almost an hour earlier than they usually wake up — and yet, one minute into my shower, two little sets of feet ran into my bathroom. “Mom, we’re ready to find our Easter baskets!” I stalled them as long as possible before they ran to wake up Daddy, too. We got to chase down clues outside and enjoyed beautiful spring sunshine. Just the way Easter should be. And when they finally found their baskets, well, I’ve never seen candy shoveled into mouths quite so quickly. Clearly they had discussed a game plan: Just go for it, before Mom even has a chance to say something like, “Only two pieces, boys.” Ha!

Celebrating salvation with our little family is so amazing. I look at these little faces, and my heart just aches to think of the world they’ve been born into, to know the horrific sin and brokenness they’re going to face out there — and even in their own hearts. How wonderful to know that there is a Savior who has placed His love on them, who is seeking their hearts, and whose love is stronger than death itself. I can’t protect them from the truth of sin, but I can point to Jesus.

Tonight, as I was kissing the boys good night, William grabbed Beatrice’s hand and said, in his sweet voice, “Jesus wuvs woo, Beatwice! Jesus wuvs woo!”

Yes, William, He sure does. And that’s the best — the only — thing worth knowing. He loves you guys.

Us:

The boys, in real life:

2011 thoughts

[A post written for my benefit. Bear with me!]

Here we are, almost to the second week of January. Wow. Really?

New Year’s Eve caught me unprepared (as it seems to have done for several years counting.) Where did the year go? Sand slipping between my fingers — it can seem like a vapor. And yes, in some ways, it is. But how good it is to know that God saw those days, and the service that filled them, as seeds sown.

And a pause, laying in bed on New Year’s Eve, gave me a chance to recall the year.

2011 began with a bang. Literally. Josh and Carson showed up with sledge hammers and trash bags that first week and started the huge project of renovating the front rooms of our house. Some weeks of big progress, many weeks of chipping away, and by August, our floors were oiled, our walls painted, and it was all done enough to settle in and be ready for a new baby. (Not that she needs a new music room, but having the grand piano out of our bedroom seemed like it would be a nice idea!)

Olivia moved in that month, too. She lived in our yellow guest room for 9 months, and was sunshine to our family. She befriended William when he was still hesitant about anyone but Mama, and watched him grow from baby to boy. She joked with Ryan, played Legos with Jameson, read books to William, and quietly slipped alongside me to fold laundry or set the table or just smile. We loved, loved, loved her.

January also found me sitting in a chair, sleeping on the couch, and generally hiding from the world as much as possible. Morning (or day) sickness took all the unction out of me, but somewhere in February, I started to feel like myself again. And then in March, somewhere around week 18, I found Regina Willette and a homebirth was planned, again. Once again, my pregnancy passed with no complications, and anticipation and excitement grew along with my belly — which was, once again, huge!

The spring was beautiful, if a bit slow at times, and we passed the time with lots of garden rehab and walks and preparations for CFA’s Cinderella and The Glass Slipper. William enjoyed his first year of being a “big boy”, and he and Jameson played outside for hours, finding favorite spots in the yard for their pirating and cowboying and other exciting things. And bikes, of course. For hours.

We had a visit from our friends Emre and Sevi in January, and then Ryan and I flew to California in March. Besides enjoying the chance to see our very-missed friends, it was also our first overnight travel without kids since pre-Jameson!

Trips to Maine and Long Island and Montreal, buying our neighboring field and a new roof and chipping away at the renovation, lots of trips to Beans’ pool and Nana’s yard and quiet days at home — all of this, and the summer was over. How quickly it goes!

Beatrice was born, William broke his arm, Olivia moved back home, Jameson had a bonfire birthday, Louissa and Josiah prepared for and then celebrated their wedding, William turned 3, and we eased into a bit of “real” Kindergarten work.

CFC began meeting in two locations, we began hosting a large and exciting Young Couples meeting, and Jameson started attending Friday School (and was quite pleased to be in the Christmas concert!)

Washing machines spun, the refrigerator was filled and emptied, filled and emptied, and dishes were washed at least 3 times a day. Bedsheets were changed, diapers outgrown, manners taught, attitudes addressed. Lego towers were admired, Playmobil carriages assembled, and dress-up creativity applauded. Sometimes I got out of my pajamas before 7am, and other days, I just put clean ones on before bed. Some days lists were crossed off with vim and vigor. Some days we barely got through bare essentials. Every day we did our best to love one another and honor Jesus. And two, then three, little people grew and grew and grew.

So, yes, sand between my fingers. Vapors. But somehow, in His economy, beads strung on the thread of time, all adding up to more than we can measure. I look at this past year with this confidence, and it shapes my perspective on the year to come:

Do not be deceived; God is not mocked. For whatever a man sows, that he will also reap.

i’m here.

I’ve never, ever gone this long without updating my blog. Never. But for whatever reason — busy, foggy head, other thing to do, can’t put it in words, first I’ll download all my photos — I haven’t written here in so long that I actually forgot the url to get here. Just for a second, but still. I forgot it.

And yes, we’ve been busy. I know we have, although if you ask me what we did this week, you’ll get a strange blank stare in response. I have no idea. But here we are, at the end of another week. And the three littlest of us are bigger. Hopefully I’m a bit smaller. I’m only three months postpartum, you know.

We’ve started kindergarten. Is it okay that I sort of smirk when I say that? Because how can this be school? Sitting at the table all together for an hour or so, littlest boy putting together puzzles all by himself (William’s achievement: learning diligence), coloring, putting an entire sheet of stickers on a small square of paper; bigger boy thumping his pencil in rhythm on his new book, carefully writing what looks like the distant relatives of what you might recognize as letters, quickly and without any teaching at all whipping through math pages. All of us with heads together learning about the Titanic and volcanoes and picture books just for fun. Pointing at the globe to find the Yangtze river, France, Ohio, and Maine. Coloring, painting, collecting leaves. Taking brisk[ish] walks and talking about geese. Making a list of things to cook just for fun this winter. And the much-anticipated Little House reading at naptime. (They were so sad to leave Laura when we started Farmer Boy, but I think they’re starting to come around.) And (my favorite part!) going to the library to collect the lovely pile of books that are waiting for us. Goodness, I love the internet!

Of course, that’s just part of our day. There are daily chores, the morning routine that takes forever. (How does it do that? Dressed, showered, laundry, quiet time, breakfast — and it feels like the day is gone!) There are meals, errands, visits, baths. Some days it feels like I’m drowning in an ocean of things-to-be-done. (And so I sit down and cry.) Some days I tell the ocean that I just don’t care, and those days go much better. (Although the ocean is still there, and I’m still not quite sure what to do about it. Besides live for 20 more years. That always seems to help with perspective and things-to-be-done.)

William has turned three (and I never even wrote about him — I just realized that!). It is the best age ever. I love every funny little thing he says, the quirky observations about life, the faulty logic that seems so very logical to them. Just love it. Fridays are our morning together, and we read lots of books. Both boys like to hear stories, but William will quite happily sit through a huge stack of books and be perfectly happy. Today we also went out to The Big Rock. Because it’s a beautiful day. At least, that’s what William said when he was trying to convince me to go out and play with him. Who can resist? That is not faulty logic.

Beatrice is big. She is, I know it, try as hard as I may to ignore it. She smiles and coos and absolutely is a love.

And me? I am loving being here in the North Country. There are so many wonderful people, so many new people, just so many people. I love getting to know them, having them in my home, learning their children’s names and their occupations and where they grew up and what puts the twinkle in their eye. People are important. People are fragile. People are worth it.

That’s what I’m thinking about right now, anyway.

And maybe I’ll write again soon. Because there’s lots more to think about.

knowing, day by day

From Hinds Feet on High Places:

“[T]he high High Places of victory and union with Christ cannot be reached by any mental reckoning of self to be dead to sin, or by seeking to devise some way or discipline by which the will can be crucified. The only way is by learning to accept, day by day, the actual conditions and tests permitted by God, by a continually repeated laying down of our own will and acceptance of His as it is presented to us in the form of the people with whom we have to live and work, and in the things which happen to us.“

Wouldn’t we love it to be more glamorous than it is? When I was young, wouldn’t I have gladly lived in a mud hut surrounded by cannibals rather than love the sister who took my things and the brother who talked too much, or cheerfully make the sandwiches and clean the bathrooms? And now, wouldn’t I sometimes prefer to follow a strict devotional regimen that I myself devised rather than happily greet the perpetual needs of little boys and husband? I mean, really: how can this — this menial, this daily, this lowly, this repetitive — be holy?

But it is. And it only is.

God does not come to invite us to a mountain top monastery. He comes and calls Himself Emmanuel. He does not linger outside the circles of our everyday, too holy to be involved. And neither has He made the process of knowing Him and following Him some spiritual construct outside the realms of daily living. Instead, He has made fellowship with Him a moment by moment opportunity. And He invites me through each experience — menial, lowly, boring, inspiring — to be changed into His image.

The best part of all this is that we never have to miss out. When trips to China are canceled, I still serve Jesus. When a new baby means I miss sermons for months on end, I still hear Jesus. When sleepless nights mean missed quiet times, I still know Jesus.

Today, I can know Jesus.

in bullets

Thinking about…

:: God being this kind of God, and not just a god of my own imagination, the importance of the family table, and other really good Dad sermons.

:: how, when we’re at the end of our rope and can only hold onto one thing, we choose fear instead of hope, worry instead of peace, death instead of life. Why not hold onto Jesus?

:: fleeting days. Summer days, winter days; baby days, boys days — they’re all fleeting, and I don’t want to waste them or wish them away. Today is the day the Lord has made, today is the day of salvation, today is what I’ve been given to sow my life into.

:: a baby coming, and how much I can’t believe it. A baby. A real, live baby. And how amazing this process is. Does it ever cease to be amazing? (I think not.) We’re all so excited.

:: how, as I approach the birthing event, I derive so much confidence from knowing that God made me to do this. Actually, pretty much all of my confidence. Belief in a creative, loving, wise God makes all the difference in how I live and approach my life’s callings. Because God said.

:: the fun weekend I just had with Ryan, celebrating our anniversary. Just a couple days away, but so fun to spend it walking, talking, eating, and just being together. It was such a treat.