Post Category → faith

what’s happening.

What’s annoying: The neighbor’s yard crew showing up as you’re putting the baby to sleep — and deciding to begin by weed-whacking right under the window where his basket is.

What’s funny: Walking around the house thinking, “Man, these pants feel loose. I must be losing weight!”, only to look down and realize that your snap is undone.

What’s adorable: Jameson clapping his baby hands and cooing, “Yay!” every time I say, “Good job!”, “All done!”, or just anytime he thinks a celebration is due. Oh, and every time he plays the piano!

What’s challenging: This post on submission, and implications it has for being intentional and guarded in my speech.

What’s awesome: This post on how we speak about children. Mom is always good for a reminder that children are people, and our words have life and death in them — so don’t be flippant about your kids!

What’s interesting: Dr. Mohler gets me up to speed with happenings at the Vatican — and I say thank goodness for straight-shooting Benedict!

What’s yummy: Fresh peaches fried in butter with honey and cinnamon.

What’s beautiful: A California afternoon. Yup. It’s as nice as they say.

speak: v.2*

I’m so thankful for a seeing, hearing, speaking God. I need to know He sees me, and hears me, and it’s really nice to know that He even speaks to me.

:: Last night I was playing some worship songs at the piano, and looking out the window toward the evening sky. There, straight up, was a single star (probably a planet, since they’re the only things bright enough to shine through this brightly-lit stretch of sky), and the sight of it touched me. I felt like I saw God. “There He is! Looking right in our window!”

And I sang my heart out.

Even though I know that God doesn’t live on a star. Or a planet.

:: I was reading Psalm 84 some more. I read,

I would rather stand at the threshold of the house of my God
Than dwell in the tents of wickedness.

and it touched me.

;: Life, as you can imagine, has been a bit out of whack. Funny how trapped our souls are in these physical bodies. You move 3,000 miles, and your soul goes into a tailspin, trying to figure out which way is up. I read that verse and thought, “That’s where I am. Standing at the threshold. Watching God on the big-screen TV in the overflow room.”

I read it again, and tears welled up.

I’d still rather be here, Lord. Even the overflow room is better than anywhere else.

:: Jameson seems to be going through some changes in his sleep needs and schedules. Mostly, he’s suddenly hard to lay down. He wakes up every time I move at all, and it takes forever for him to fall asleep soundly at night. Since I’m doing my best to be the perfect model of a high-strung first-time mother, instead of just taking this in stride, I lend my ear to whispers of doubt. What if I’m doing this wrong? What if I’m off my rocker to be so laid back in my approach to sleep and schedules? Wouldn’t my life be so much better if I could just lay him down at 2:00 and walk away?

And then today, I stumbled upon this. I don’t post that link to make any sort of statement, but just to say, it touched me.

It’s okay to lay your life down the best you know how, I heard the Lord say.

Surely there is more to learn, and He will give me more and more wisdom as I seek His ways. And maybe (hopefully!) mothering will be totally different for me in 10 years.

But for now, all I can do is follow the light at my feet.

And what a faithful Light it is.

*There’s a v.2 because Ryan thought the original post was 90% mulligrubs (if you don’t know that word, think Eeyore) and only 10% “but God”. Well, that’s not at all what I wanted to communicate! What I intended to share was the joy of hearing from the Lord in such a personal way. Doesn’t your soul just leap when the Lord’s voice lets you know He sees just where you are, and He’s there, aware, knowing, loving?

psalm 84

I know, I know. Two posts in one day? Why aren’t you cleaning the house and regrouping from your overnight company, you ask.

Well, because our town’s water system is being overhauled, and today it’s our turn to have no water. So, until 5:30, I can’t wash a single dish or do a single load of laundry. In fact, I can’t even flush the toilet. This is truly roughing it.

Why, then, aren’t you hanging pictures on the wall and otherwise completing the process of moving in?

Well, that’s a good question.

Jameson is amusing me with his play here in the living room. (So adorable to watch him try to figure things out, like stacking toys and turning pages in books!) While he does that, I’ll mention that I read a verse that came alive, again, to me:

How blessed is the man whose strength is in You,
In whose heart are the highways to Zion!
Passing through the valley of Baca they make it a spring;…
They go from strength to strength. (–psalm 84)

Home is where He is. Better is one day in His courts; blessed are those who dwell in His courts. When He is enthroned in our hearts, and the path to His presence is well worn in our lives, even places of weeping become wells of life. Those are the people who are strong regardless of circumstance — because their hearts are fixed on an immovable object, a wellspring of life and joy.

And here, in a new place, this is life to me again. It’s a challenge, again, to go from strength to strength, and make His dwelling place my soul’s habitation.

while he sleeps, i’ll sit…

:: So, is it time to go home yet?

That’s how I’m feeling yesterday and today. Pretty bad, considering it’s only been a few weeks. I know that part of this wanting home is just a need for routine, to really own life here in this little spot. I’m still fumbling with my coffee making procedure, still reaching for the wrong drawer when I need a spoon, still wondering where my toothbrush is — in the cupboard or out? — and still have chaos in my cleaning closet. In time, though, I’ll settle in. Even though it still feels like a strange house, within no time I’ll be able to walk to the kitchen in the pitch black middle of the night, get a glass from the right cupboard, and walk back to bed without nailing my shin on the corner of the boxspring. It will feel like home, if I determine to make it so.

:: Today I need to go grocery shopping for real. I’m so glad that my spice collection traveled well, since that’s the pricey part of a pantry. But I need everything else — flour and oats, eggs and milk, tomatoes and peas, and everything.

:: Finding a church to call home is not easy. Not that I had any illusions about it being anything but hard, but still.

However, as I sit here in my backyard, smelling flowers, soaking up sunshine, loving this Secret Garden that is mine for at least a year, I am reminded of how perfect the Lord’s provision is. Surely, if He could give me a “bit of earth” and a quiet neighborhood — in short, if He could provide me with shelter that is more than just adequate, but above my hopes and dreams, then can’t I trust Him to do the same with a church family? I think so. I’m believing so. And I’m also believing that we’ll know when we find it, because that’s the hard part. You know. All that business about no church is perfect, and if you find one, the minute you join stop being perfect because you’re there? Well, I’m trusting that the Lord will help us to know which not-perfect actually is perfect for us, in this season.

:: Last night at 6:15, I loaded a picnic basket (thank you again, Sheri!) and Jameson (wearing his adorable outfit received from Mrs. Kinnen at his shower) into our red wagon (which we have loved Auntie Bec and Sarah!), and made our way to the park downtown. Ryan met us there, and we spread out a blanket, along with every other young family, and settled in for an hour of music, food, and fun. It’s a little summer tradition, I guess, to eat at the park on Wednesdays while a local group serenades us. At one point, as we were sitting and enjoying Jameson, Ryan looked around and said, “Wow. This is it; the American Dream.”

Yes, there we were, in one of the wealthiest communities in the country, surrounded by young families whose kids are dressed well, who were all eating well, enjoying the luxury of safety and opulence. They’ve arrived, attained what so many strive for.

And Ryan and I had the same thought: Huh. That’s really, really sad.

I’m so, so thankful to know the Lord.

I’m so, so thankful to know that there is eternity.

I’m so, so glad that this isn’t all there is.

And I so, so hope that we’re able to communicate that hope that’s within us while we’re here, living in the middle of American Dream, USA.

investing

I love the internet. I love the world-at-your-fingertips sensation. I love the opportunity to learn, learn, learn.

But I am sometimes inundated, and find that with all of my reading and discovering, I must be even more vigilant to keep first Thing first. You know? There are so many good things, and the more I learn about them, the more I want to do them. But at some point, I have to realize that time here is limited, and while I want to be a good steward in every way I can, I can’t spend my whole life in pursuit of organic whole grains. There is Jesus, after all, and no amount of fair trade and non-toxic household cleaners will save souls.

(You can obviously see what kinds of good things tend to draw my attention.)

So this is a constant question I must be asking myself: How much of my limited resources (time, energy, money) is this worth? Will the benefit to my family, or the environment, or whatever, be worth the investment?

Like:

Is it worth the $$$ to, say, buy a whole bunch of reusable shopping bags?

Or:

Is it worth the $$$, and mostly the time, to switch? I love the thought of no more weird chemicals on baby’s skin, but is it worth it? (Just look at those! Who wouldn’t want to switch!)

There are some things that I just know are worth investing into, though. Like:

And a bit of random joy from California: Guess what I’ve been picking and eating from my new backyard?

The sweetest, juiciest plums EVER! I wish I could mail one to my dad. What awesome summer love they are!

**p.s. The upfront investment of cloth diapers can be a bit staggering, but of course, in the long run, it’s quite the savings.

thoughts.

Jameson is asleep beside me, on “his” side of the bed. I’ve loved having a little bed-buddy while Ryan’s been gone, and he seems to like it, too; he’s been sleeping more and more (in other words, waking up fewer and fewer times!). There’s something special about watching him sleep next to me. His little baby face, framed by chubby baby arms, causes me to pause, every night, and cherish. He won’t always be a baby, his breath sweet and skin soft, cuddled next to me in bed. This night — this one right now — is a gift to be savored.

Thank You, Lord, for this gift.

Today I packed only one box. The rest of the day was spent here at my parents’, just living life together. After lunch, Mom, Bri, and I tied on aprons and worked on little treats for a party this evening. (Bummer! I didn’t get any pictures! Oh well…) Pretty and fancy desserts, yummier-than-yummy puffed pastry morsels — fun. Special. Together.

Then this evening, after little ones were abed, friends arrived to bid me farewell. We sipped iced tea on a pretty porch, lit by oil lamps and candles, and enjoyed the long evening surrounded by beautiful gardens and the laughter of friendship. There were gifts and cards and remember-whens. Pretty dessert with oohs and ahhs. Strengthening prayers (Wow, Lord. These women have listened and remembered the prophetic words I’ve received? They have really loved me that much? forever! Probably we can forgo the introductions, but I am planning on a very enjoyable weekend of being a little family, all together, before he goes to work Monday morning and leaves Jameson and me to discover our new hometown.

Thankful. Excited. Blessed.

[Thanks, Mom, for a special evening, and special hours of preparing. I’m going to miss you.]