Post Category → family

take them by the hand

Hi!

Another whole month has slipped by. I thought of doing a photo dump, and then realized a month of photos gets a tad long.

(Lunch gets a tad long sometimes, too.)

There are lots of pictures over at flickr. Click through for a glimpse of the month:


*****

“Take them by the hand…”

In the busyness of a day with four children, all of whom need different kinds of training and teaching and attention, and all done all together all day long (which requires a house keeping plan I have yet to quite master), this little phrase grabs me.

I write the plan and herd them along with the best of intentions: to nurture their talents and expand their minds and plant the Word of God deep in their hearts — but the leadership model shown by Jesus was not a “come on, hurry up, slow pokes,” sort of model. No, we’re to come alongside and walk with these young disciples.

And yes, that’s a nice concept and philosophy, but often I find I need to literally obey this verse. Take them by the hand. Not just the wobbly toddler who needs help down the stairs. That nearly-independent 8yo boy, too. The quiet 6yo who doesn’t seem to really need much. Go out of my way to take them by the hand. Invite them to sit in arm’s crook during read-aloud. Give those shoulders a hug while issuing next instruction. Hold their hand in the parking lot, and squeeze it twice (our special “I love you” code.)

The confrontation of sin and shortcomings can seem continual. How much easier the walk through confession and repentance when led by the hand.

spirit-led school days

Routine and I have a strange, love-hate relationship. If I’m being positive, I call myself Spirit-led. Other times, I just think I’m a pendulum-swinger. I’m learning from my tendencies toward the latter, and allowing it to be molded more and more into the former — this is the work of God in my life, leading me as a Good Shepherd.

We have our schedule. It’s posted in plain sight. It was thought about, long and hard, the result of prayer and pondering. But it is a tool, in the end. It is not our master.

In September, stirring everyone with an exhortation to be “up and at ’em” is altogether fitting and even fun. By the end of January, the constraints of climate seem to just beg for more fluidity inside. And so it is required of me that I learn to observe needs, act as guide and not sergeant, hold big picture in mind and enjoy the twists and turns that it takes to get there.

Take now, for instance:

Morning chores amounted to a bit of tidying and taking care of laundry. I’ve been poking away at tidying my room, but really, spending more time sitting on the edge of my bed in prayer for this one and that one, and dreaming with a friend via the internet about future homes.

The boys woke up with a big Lego plan, and you know what? That doesn’t happen often. So I set aside the school plans I’d written for the morning, told them to turn on an educational CD they received for Christmas, and play their hearts out. They will be there for hours, slowly assembling Star Wars ships, pausing regularly to listen to the familiar stories of Boston Tea Parties and First Continental Congresses.

Girls are at the table coloring, after playing Peter and the Wolf for awhile (where Peter looked an awful lot like a baby doll who was rescued by her mama from a fox?)

We need this time. We all do.

And as I learn to keep big picture in mind, and am led by a Shepherd as I lead my little lambs, I regularly am amazed to find that He knows how to get it “all” done. Sometimes doing it His way requires being fully engaged for more hours than I would like, letting the day creep into evening hours rather than being tidily finished and wrapped with a bow at 4:30. That’s okay. I have not died yet from too much noise and activity, although I’ve come close at times (can you say stimulus overload?)

There are plenty of days when the chief exercise is learning to do what we must do whether we want to or not. There are plenty of “work hard and fast” hours, followed by “here’s your list of school work, now do it” mornings and afternoons. But then there are these moments, too, when I realize that He knows how to fit in the special things:


a baby who snuck away from me, a brother who loves to read to his sisters


General Washington and Alexander Hamilton planning an attack


early morning company, enjoying the rare treat of looking at family photos


Liberty’s Kids, in a new (therefore fun) spot.


impromptu “school” project with my big girl

time out.

I am trying, once again, to get outside with the kids each afternoon. Some days it doesn’t work. Some days I just don’t want to. But the boys love when I go out with them, even it’s just me pulling on my boots and yelling, “Okay, who wants to tromp through the field with me?” And Beatrice would live outside if she could. “Snow Mountain,” the huge pile created by the snowplow each year, is her favorite place in the world right now.

I’m not really an outdoorsy type: I don’t own hiking boots or even sneakers, I don’t ski or canoe. But is there a category of outdoorsy that just needs to breathe fresh air and see vast sky every day, and thinks a great afternoon is one spent walking for miles? Because that’s me. And so this time outside, even if it means giving up a shower or another load of laundry done or whatever, it’s good for them and it’s good for me.

Today we missed it; sick boy and sleeping baby and such. So I’m looking at vast sky via pictures. Reliving the joy of snow angels. Remembering the thrill of following bunny tracks and deer tracks and bird tracks and others we don’t know. We have so much fun.

wrapping up Christmas.

I finally got all Christmas photos moved to flickr, which was really just an excuse to savor one more time the special moments of that most special month. Thankful once again for my family, for having been taught to make Christmas special for my little clan, for a Savior to celebrate and exalt and make much of.

So, this. The last of my Christmas photos from 2014. Relived once more, and now tucked away for future late-night blog-wanderings when I’m wondering where the moments and years disappeared to.


“Christmas Eve Eve” sleep under the tree.


Christmas Eve morning, excitedly set up by Jameson


Her very first at-the-table setting. She was very happy with herself!


Beatrice at Christmas Eve dinner


My sister’s Christmas Eve centerpiece — well, one of them, anyway. We’re a houseful!


Candlelight Service. Beautiful.


Eggnog and Cookie party!


Intently sipping. I love that bow!


Cookies. Waiting for presents!


This pretty girl. And no other photos of Christmas Eve garb. I almost burst into tears when they put on their new pi’s, and I realized we would never have a photo of them all dressed.


Tree, ready.


New doll things


Fiona got her very own baby doll


Afternoon and evening at my parents’, eating and playing games.


Christmas Night. The aftermath.

And the best Day After ever: new flannel pajamas and new toys and Mama vacuuming to her heart’s content.

Deep sigh. Deep smile. Deep thankfulness for it all.

Back to the bins, absorbed into the toys, tossed into the hamper, vacuumed and dragged out to the field it all goes. And yet, not quite. Those memories, that investment, this pause becomes knit into who we are.

Until next year,

pictures of december

Excitement is ramping up around here. Today we exchanged names (well, the kids did) and bought gifts for one another. Four or five times, I was pulled aside because a little boy needed to tell me a secret — a bursting with joy secret because their gift is just so so so wonderful and the recipient is going to love it so so so much!

We drove home in relative quiet until William suddenly said, “Mom, I was just dreaming about opening my present [on Christmas Eve, when they exchange their gifts], and I was so excited, and then I remembered that the next day will be Christmas!! (Said in the most COULD LIFE GET ANY BETTER voice you’ve ever heard.)

Before that day actually comes, and I get swept away with everything that entails and suddenly find myself two weeks into a new year, I’ll quickly put up photos of this special month. I do so love coming to this little corner of the internet and reminiscing…

*****


Three little girls, Fiona wanting very much to be as big as Beatrice and Margaret


Ready to get a tree


Easily entertained


Can’t wait for Daddy to come with the tree


Here it comes!


And there it is.


Early Sunday morning reflections.


Rest and reading time after decorating the bagel shops!


She loves baby dolls.


Pigtail perfection.


Cookies baked for neighbors and friends.


Special afternoons with my grandparents.


Time with beautiful sisters and their scrumptious babes.


Concerts.


Lots of this.


A break from routine school means time for not-routing things.


They keep careful track of this growing pile.


Drawing names!


Fiona felt very grown up with that slip of paper!


Too excited to get a picture with all four looking at me.


Lunch with family at (drumroll…) The Bagelry. (Pretty yummy!)

*****

Have a wonderful last few days before Christmas!

december’s story: grace and peace

I can’t believe we’re halfway through December, and oh-so-close to Christmas.

It’s all Christmas, all the time around here. If Beatrice isn’t making up songs about angels and shepherds, boys are pounding out Christmas duets (duets! Yay!) on the piano, or Fiona is touching ornaments. Or I’m slipping to my room to wrap one more present— or make that one half a present, someone is pounding on my door.


December 1st Christmas movie, though I can’t remember for the life of me what it was.


celebrating our first Friday post-CFA with a lazy breakfast


sleeping under the tree


mornings like this.


performing with almost 100 voices and instruments in a beautiful Christmas cantata

Snow sure helps the mood along, and for some magical reason, it’s gently hanging over the edge of our roof right out the window in a way very reminiscent of frosting on rum logs. There is lots of outdoor play before breakfast, because somehow, jumping out of bed and pulling snow gear on over pi’s is just the most fun. (And it buys me time, since I can’t seem to make cookies and have breakfast thought through.)


early morning, after our first significant snowfall


Jameson has made all of the rum logs this year completely by himself


pepparkakor


preparing cookie gifts

We are watching Mary’s slow trek as she waits for her baby to be born. We do our best to read one little book each night from our Advent calendar. And this year, we’re sneaking in a bit of this book here and there — a whole week behind, mind you, but pressure is not very Christmasy, so I’m doing my best to not feel any. Today we read about Isaac, climbing a long road with wood on his back, a shadow of the Child of Promise who walked a long and dusty road for me. I’m blessed, blessed, blessed to hear the thoughts my boys share, the connections they make. William especially seems quite enamored with this whole typology thing, realizing that all of those stories were pointing to Jesus. And I get to be right there, watching that realization dawn. What a privilege.

This is a month made for Jameson, my gift-giver. Suddenly, he is busily hiding secrets and scurrying to prepare a surprise. He generously finds $1,000 guitars that he thinks I should buy William. (Ha!) He is in his element. Saturday, when William was at work with Ryan, he took advantage of the 20 minutes it took for me to lay the girls down for naps and found paper snowflakes to hang from the ceiling. After being stunned by that beautiful surprise, he then made coffee and set out a whole little “coffee date” for him and me. He beamed with love. Today he gave me the gift he’d made me and put under the tree: a little “Meery Christmas” garland. Insert mother heart bursting right here.


snowflake surprise


afternoon date with this boy


my Christmas gift this year

Then there’s quiet William, who made me a card two weeks ago and tucked it away for Christmas, but seeing Jameson’s gift giving (“I’m just so bad at waiting, Mom! I want you to have all of my presents right away!”), he decided to pull his out, too. Simplest, sweetest, “I love you, Mama” card.


cutest cards


moments to tuck inside my mama-treasure-box, i.e., my heart

Are you kidding?, I think to myself. How could anyone possibly be as loved as I am? Let alone someone as grumpy and ornery as me?? Is this real? Are these little boys really smiling that big at me, their hearts in their eyes? Is this little girl really climbing up to plant a random sweet kiss on my cheek with a whispered, “I wuv you so much, Mama,” in my ear? Is this baby really laughing and dancing and wanting me to know that I’m her world?

If it feels too good to be true, it’s because it is. It’s grace, a gift. I know what I deserve — I look that ugliness right in the face many times a day, and it’s ugly. There’s an equation here that just doesn’t seem to balance out: How can I have a life of blessing, of gifts, of walking with God? I could never seem to do a good job balancing my checkbook, but even with my enormous lack of accounting talent, I can see a serious discrepancy like this one. Maybe you don’t think it’s that serious, look at my life and see a good person who tries hard. But I know. I know the discrepancy. I know the selfishness and self-seeking and jealousy and pride that fights to have its way moment after moment. How can a heart like that then receive blessing?

Jesus.

That’s it. That’s the only way to justify the account of my life. For someone like me to walk with God, to know Him and love Him and know that He loves me — it’s Jesus.

So I open that handmade card with 6yo scrawl, I feel those arms around my neck and see bashful eyes full of love, and my soul feels more than just full. It feels grace.

“Hark! the herald angels sing
Glory to the newborn King
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled”

Reconciled.
Justified.
Balanced.
Paid in full.

Waking up to morning after morning of new mercy.
Too good to be true.
God is like that.