Post Category → just life

counting joys

When the alarm went off, I was already exhausted. It was one of those days.

Several hours later, several loads of laundry had been cycled, lists of errands and to-dos and must-pack items had been made, the house had been pulled together after a very busy Sunday, the boys were dressed and even looking cute, and I’d found every return and receipt I needed. We all headed out to the van, got buckled in, and — nothing. The car wouldn’t start. As Ryan was discovering this fact, I tripped on an uneven brick and twisted my ankle (but did not drop the baby: points for me.)

I calmly collected the kids and got started on a Christmas craft instead.

Ha! Nope, that’s not true, actually.

I quietly got the kids out of the car and waved to Ryan as he set out (on foot) to work, but inside I was seething. I could tell a volcanic eruption was near. I was thinking something along the lines of, I don’t know WHOSE IDEA OF A JOKE THIS IS, BUT IT’S NOT FUNNY!!

I stood on the stoop with bags in hand, a three year old asking repeatedly, “What are we doing now, Mama?”, and a teething baby crying and clawing at my legs, and I suddenly remembered James 1.

Count it all joy…

And I know that a spoiled morning doesn’t compare with a lot of other trials and tribulations, not even close. But I do know that these everyday furnaces test us and try us and prepare us — if we let them.

Would I let it?

In tears, I managed to say, out loud, “Thank you, Lord, for this opportunity to grow in patience and trust in You.”

(Naturally, Jameson asked who I was talking to, why I was crying, and when lunch would be ready. This is the current soundtrack of my life, and someday I’ll miss it.)

Since that morning crisis, the day has continued in the same pattern. (I was hoping that a quick response to the Holy Spirit’s promptings would usher me into a few hours of ease and happiness, but not this time, I guess.) William has cried all day. He pinches my skin when he nurses, and I’ve almost lost it a couple times. Jameson has been a peach, but an energetic one. None of my lists have been touched, and if that weren’t overwhelming enough, that awful devil has started in with nagging thoughts about how filthy the kitchen floor is and what a lousy housekeeper I am.

It’s that sort of day.

It feels unproductive. No, make that counterproductive.

But that’s not the whole story.

The Bible says that even this sort of day can be hugely productive, if I “let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

And so.

So I repent, repent, repent. I cry out for Jesus over and over and over. And I count even this crisis of the soul as joy, knowing that the testing of my faith produces endurance.

Some things just don’t come easy, but faith that endures is worth the pain.

being family

It’s been more than four years since we said “I do”, started this crazy adventure of blending (and bending) and becoming a family. Four years later, it feels like we’re still just beginning to figure out who this family is — and it’s fun. It’s fun to learn each other, add a few kids, try something new, let something go. (The more I let go, the more we become something unique, fun, useful.)

It’s still funny to hear people say, “We’re going to the Dunphey’s;” I only see us as Ryan and Danica, with two kids, learning to be a family. What do we look like from the outside looking in? I have no idea. And I have no idea how long it will be before I answer the phone, “Hello, Dunphey’s,” the way my mom says “Sinclair’s,” and Judy says, “Tomford’s.” I have a feeling it will creep up on me while I’m learning the art of loving this husband, mothering these children, making this home.

All of that to say, Ryan decided several months ago that rather than buying a medium flat latte every single morning at Peet’s, he would buy an espresso machine. But of course, not a push-the-button espresso machine; we’re talking weigh the beans on a scale, change the grind for every new roast, precisely 30 pounds of pressure with a very nice tamp, set the timer, and pull that shot in exactly 27 seconds. (27? I think.) It’s his new hobby. He takes care of this stainless-steel machine like it’s his car, spit-shining and all. In the evening, when the boys are on their way to dreamland, he makes me a decaf latte. Can you say spoiled?

And all of that to say, we have a new Saturday morning tradition: homemade chocolate chip scones and lattes for breakfast. I light the candle, set the table, and we gather around a plate of warm yumminess while Ryan pulls shots, giving us nothing but the best. It’s slow. It’s crazy one minute and calm the next. Sometimes we’re showered and dressed for the day, sometimes it’s a pj party. Mostly, it’s just one little thing we do that helps us stop and say, hey! We’re a family!

(You’re welcome to drop by and join us, of course. Just let me know, and I’ll pop a few more scones into the oven!)

bits ::

:: Hallelujah, Halloween is over. Now we can take walks through our neighborhood without me being disgusted — and without Jameson being confused. (“Yuck, Mama, look at that big spiderweb! They gotta kill that spider!”) Onto bigger and better celebrations — like being thankful for amazingly abundant provision, protection, guidance, and blessing in our lives. Isn’t that MUCH nicer??

:: The whole clock-change-thing really bugs me. I’m looking out on fading sunshine, trying to re-program my head to think 4 o’clock, when clearly, those are 5 o’clock shadows out there. At least, that’s what they were yesterday. Wouldn’t it be better to just leave our clocks alone?

:: My house is a disaster. No, really, it is. This week had lots of people in it, and not so much home-doing-chores in it. And the hours I had free were spent sewing. Yup, guilty. The good news is that the mess will wait for me. That’s the great things about dirty houses. They never disappear on you. You can always count on them to be right where you left them (and then some.)

:: Of course, if my house is still dirty next Sunday, it might be because I got all crazy, threw the boys and a few suitcases into the van, and headed to the East Coast. I miss my family like crazy, it goes without saying that I want my mama, and there are babies I need to meet! They need to know that I love them! December is sounding way too far away.

:: The only thing is, if I go to New York, I won’t be here. And you know what? I’m already missing my friends here just thinking about leaving for Christmas. I like our church, like the little families we hang out with, love our small group. Can’t I be in both places at once?

:: Today I played on the worship team. Poor Ryan didn’t get to enjoy a single bit of it, since the minute William saw me on the platform he [loudly] began exclaiming “Mama! Mama! Mama!” and made a beeline for the stage. It made me smile. I like being mama.

first rain

It’s so strange to me that my boys think California is, well, home. Jameson think it’s normal that we live a few blocks from no less than 5 coffee shops. William’s feet are brown from days and days and days of sunshine. They don’t see palm trees and think “exotic”, the way I still do. They’re even unimpressed by redwood trees.

Every once in awhile something will happen that sort of drives the point home. Like this morning, for instance. During the night, the skies opened, and our rainy season officially began. When Jameson came out of his room this morning, he bounded to the window, his face beaming, and exclaimed, “Rain!”

Really? My kids are going to grow up excited about the first rainfall?

making do

I love seasonal decorating. (Hmm, wonder where I got that from??) Breaking out the autumn decor is especially fun, since there’s that whole shift to the indoors that occurs as the temperature cools. And right up there with decor is food. Who doesn’t love the smell of chicken soup, banana bread, apple sauce, and pumpkin pie oatmeal (which has taken the world by storm this week!)?

So, it goes without saying that I love to set my table with seasonal things! This year, I decided that what I really need are some everyday fall placemats that can be wiped clean after each meal. I didn’t have the money to actually buy any, but I did have this tutorial bookmarked, a new pile of cardstock in lots of colors, contact paper, and an hour last Sunday afternoon.

Sometimes making do works just fine.

a ramble

I’m tired. The boys just went down for their naps, and my down comforter sounds awfully nice, but I’m telling myself that if I just sit here in the delicious afternoon sun for a few minutes, it will be positively energizing. Right?

It’s fall here. That means that at the peak of the day, the sun will warm you all the way through, and you may even want to put on a skirt and flip-flops. But come evening, when that sun goes down, the temperature plummets, and all you want is the biggest sweatshirt you own. And so we’ve begun the cold-weather habits of lighting candles, eating soup, and settling in for evenings of togetherness. Is that so bad?

Several weeks ago, I tried to take a step back, get a fresh look at this season of life and our family’s needs, and come up with a new game plan. I’m not always very good at that. Getting off track is way too demoralizing for me, considering it’s just part of life. (I need to get better at that.) I’m also learning, though, that most of the time when we’re off track, it’s because our train changed direction, and I need to get a track in place. Does that make sense? I don’t think of myself as a routine, organized person. My spices, for instance, are a chaotic mess, all dumped into a basket and hidden behind a cupboard door. (Not that I wouldn’t prefer something else, but I’m not enough of an organizer to figure out what that something else is.) However, I’m realizing how inflexible I am about life and how I think it should go. I figure our house should be continually getting prettier and tidier. It is a shock to my system when I realize that the needs of husband, children, or household rhythm dictates that instead, my house has to become more functional. I figure my house should get cleaner and cleaner, and then I realize that Jameson needs me more, I want to spend time with friends, church events happen, and my housekeeping gets bumped further and further down the list. Things like that. Recognizing where the train is going and getting a new track in place. Embracing my call to be a student of husband, children, and home, and then adapt to their needs. And finding joy in knowing their needs are met. Even if my bathroom gets cleaned only once a week. (Get over it, Danica. It’s still not about you.)

I’m loving reading with Jameson lately. He’s old enough now that we can read any book on the shelf — even long, complicated stories — and he gets thoroughly engrossed. Yesterday he pulled out a Happy Hollisters book, sat himself down with it, and then sadly discovered there were no pictures. “I not know how to read this one, Mama!” So I told him I’ll help him read it. I think it’s time for chapter books at bedtime. (How fun!) He found a pictorial encyclopedia of military uniforms of the last century, and has been poring over the pictures, examining the Chronicles of Narnia action figures he has, and delighting in all of the weapons he’s finding. He is particularly fascinated by the German entrenching tool. I’m not sure why, unless digging a hole in dirt and hiding in it is just universally appealing to the male gender. I just slipped into his room and found his arms wrapped around the book, the page opened to military bands. I love, love, love watching his curiosity and fascination with life and the world around him. It’s exhilarating.

I had my first cleaning-with-a-mobile-baby day on Monday. Over the weekend, William officially began crawling. He’s been scooching himself via a series of hysterical movements for several weeks, but now has figured out the efficiency of being on his knees. This means the outlets need to be checked, magazines lay in torn fragments on the living room floor, and he’s finding out the world is not his oyster. It also means that I can fold laundry for 20 minutes undisturbed, because Jameson and William are outside playing and laughing together. I like the undisturbed part, but I absolutely adore the laughing and together parts.

Tonight, I’m finally doing what I’ve been thinking about and wanting to do since I first realized there were women my age at church: I’m starting a small group. I’m incredibly excited about the prospect of being encouraged, challenged, and growing close to these girls. We’re going to start by reading Feminine Appeal, which I’ll do a review of soon. Suffice to say, I really, really enjoyed the book myself and highly recommend it. Perhaps I’ll post my thoughts as we read through the book in our group, so you can read/study along.

Okay. The sun has warmed me in that wonderful way autumn sunshine does. Time to get up and pull the house together a bit.