Post Category → just life

the busy and lazy and timeless days of summer

Here we are, August. August! I cut a bunch of echinacea and rudbeckia and couldn’t even believe it. What happened to the peonies? Scratch that. Where are the daffodils? How are we here already?!

But oh, we have filled these days. Some filled with the nothing that summertime begs for, some filled with much anticipated activities. Soccer camp, swim lessons, and musical theater camp — far more here and there than our usual summer schedule, but it has been so much fun and just right for this year.

What hasn’t happened this year is much [any] gardening. The grass is growing quite well between hardy perennials, despite the fact that hot and dry weather has left the lawn looking brown and crunchy. I’ve never experimented with total neglect, and I can’t recommend it, but a new baby in May has bumped weeding and pruning waaaay down the totem pole. The good news is I haven’t lost anything, and hopefully that will still be true next spring. There’s a time for everything, I guess.

Last week I decided on and ordered our books for the coming school year, so that means this week will see us purging and tidying the school cupboard once again. I’m both excited about all we’ll learn and dreadfully sad that our summer days will end in a few weeks. There’s a time for everything.

*****

Old familiar tasks done in a new beautiful kitchen.

Evening walks in nightgowns and pjs.

Mama’s rug in my room.

Learning croquet.

Wagon full of beauty.

Three soccer players!

Enid’s regular activity. (Some days.)

Up bright and early every swim-lesson morning! So proud of just that, never mind the swim progress.

Cousins made it even more fun.

Sister love.

An early NOT swim morning by myself.

Donning ballet slippers.

Constant companion, growing and changing and more loved every day.

june 14

Yesterday was three weeks with our Enid Catherine. How we love her.

And how those days flew — as I knew they would, but still always such a strange shock to tally them up and realize it’s been weeks and you’re not sure where it all went. Somehow it always seems wrong, when I’m moving so slowly and intentionally, that moments and hours still have the audacity to move quickly.

My sister said something like, “I’ve done this enough to know the details won’t always be fresh in my mind, but the impression of these days will remain.” Yes. We sink our whole self into each moment because there’s an impression being made — on her life, on their lives, on my life. We are shaped by these fleeting moments.

We are keeping a tight orbit these days, with Enid at the center still. I don’t go far, they don’t go far. We hold a baby, prepare meals to be shared al fresco, blow bubbles and ride bikes and shoot hoops and figure out how on earth to get the frisbee to go where you want it to go. We clean feet and braid hair and tidy the house before running back out to the great wide world out our door.

Yesterday while Enid slept soundly in her basket, I organized the play kitchen and “taught” Cecily how to make pasta primavera and cake. It was so special — her shining eyes told me so.

a record of moments

This little family journal is in need of an update, although my memory isn’t nearly good enough to recall every moment worth preserving. But, a bit of a try:

There have been the smallest moments that pile up into absolute treasure — William leading our worship times with his guitar and repertoire of about 5 chords, with Jameson sometimes playing along on piano; Beatrice devouring “The Saturdays,” while standing right at the doorway to the kitchen, hoping against hope that Daddy might need her for something; kids rediscovering the woods now that the snow isn’t overwhelmingly deep and coming back with muddy boots and stories of what they found this time; sitting a bit like sardines all together in “the den” to watch a movie on a Sunday night; nap times and bedtimes with me sitting in a rocker, reading to the girls until Cecily is asleep or at least settled, quickly finishing “Understood Betsy” (so darling! — a favorite), and now onto the Shoe books; packing up ingredients, kids, math and piano books, and heading to my mom’s kitchen for a few afternoons of baking in an oven (what a treat!); walks in warm spring sunshine with Cecily on my back, and walks in winter wonderlands the very next day as the North Country reminds us all of its impossible unpredictable nature; crockpot meals and hamburgers coming out our ears, and soooo many bagels…

There have been less mundane moments, too —

Ryan walking away with just a scratch from quite the crash at Whiteface, and how thankful we all were; the three big kids preparing a performance of “Anything You Can do” for Grandparents’ Day that demanded they do and give a bit more than their natural comfort level; Easter weekend plagued with a tummy bug, keeping us home on Good Friday (where we all did our sardine routine and joined the CFC service online — perfect) and that meant after much excited preparation on Saturday evening, Ryan and I ended up staying home all day Sunday sick while the kids happily celebrated with grandparents and aunts, uncles, and cousins; me getting to spend a solid week of time laying floors with Ryan while our kids [mostly] happily tended to each other — not exactly the weekend getaway I’d been hoping to squeeze in before this baby, but maybe even better.

And the slow and steady progress of life in and around us: Boys working to prepare for another year of NYSSMA involvement and growing in their musicianship. Cecily talking more and more. A kitchen ready to be painted and have cabinets installed this week! Number Six baby continuing to wiggle and grow and drop and all that end-of-the-line kind of stuff, and me marveling that we’re already here, a few weeks away from meeting them. And yes, me trying to focus on the “meeting them” part and not get too uptight about the “delivering them” part.

There have been ups and downs in the last 6 weeks, sometimes just the normal life kind of stuff, and sometimes much bigger. His hand is there, leading, in both mountain and valley. There have been “I’m gonna snap!” moments, and there, too, His grace is always there, correcting and realigning and sometimes just giving rest. If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask… and suddenly that’s there, too — seeking hearts led, souls taught His ways.

The wheres and the hows of life are sometimes fun, sometimes interesting, sometimes disappointing — but the Who that we find Him to be in all those things: that’s the treasure. That’s the golden thread we hold onto, that we delight in each morning. Great is Thy faithfulness, we sing, but we truly know that as we simply live. Each morning, waking up, asking, “Will you meet me in this day, too?”, and discovering that the answer is always and forever yes.

from yesterday:

It’s Sunday, and we are Sabbath-ing here at the Dunphey house.

The daddy sent everyone to their beds as soon as our dinner table was cleared, and quiet reigned for a couple of hours, interrupted only by a crying 2yo who needed to finish her nap with Mama.

Rest is good, and it is a gift. Rest is different than leisure — a posture that says, I was made to work but I was also made with limitations, and so I pause despite the ongoing garden tending and inevitable entropy that never pauses. God will supply what we need.

*****

House in renovation mode for two weeks now, and the excitement over a project moving forward fills our days — but most of all, for sure, the joy of Ryan calling for a son to help, of inviting a daughter to join him on a dump run, and pouring out appreciation and affirmation on them as we gather for dinner each evening. They are all working hard, even if it’s simply by playing happily in the “den” (our small guest room-turned-living room) with the few toys Mama left out. This is an “all hands on deck” season, and isn’t that the best?

Jameson is rising to the occasion with a big project happening. He loves nothing more than donning work clothes and old ball cap in the morning and jumping right into work mode with Ryan. He’s climbing into the attic and doing small jobs unassisted, learning about electrical, helping to keep tools organized, and just generally an enthusiastic assistant who makes long and late nights more enjoyable for Ryan.

William is steady and dependable. He’ll spend several hours carrying debris out to the truck, sweeping floors, and holding lights. He cheerfully does house cleaning even if it’s not the most exciting task happening. He notices when the girls are getting needy and jumps right in to create a game for them or read to them or just keep them happy so the gears can keep turning. He does his best to stay up with his big brother but once in awhile disappears to his room, where he can be found fast asleep.

Beatrice cheerfully chips away at her school and chores and piano practice each day, doing better and better at remembering all of those things on her own. She reads voraciously and plays her favorite piano pieces incessantly, and is always always cheerful. Our spring thaw last week meant bike riding began, and she somehow managed to be the only kid to tear or stain two pairs of pants in epic crashes. She’s tender and loving and flighty.

Fiona still lives most days in her own happy little world of make believe. She has doll babies to care for and ballet classes to go to and church services to lead. Generally quiet, she will suddenly come to life at the meal table and regale the other children with stories of “dreams” she had and imaginations that grow with the telling. She is up first or second every day and “reads” her Bible stories quietly alongside me.

And Cecily — jabbering away continually and thankfully even beginning to include some English in the babbling. She loves to play with Fiona, be in the middle of all of us all the time, go places with her Daddy, and if she’s ever grumpy or sad, a clementine or two will cure her. She has officially moved out of our bedroom and joined the girls’ room in her own twin bed. It’s been a learning process, as I think she was more attached to her basket and her Mama’s proximity than my other 2 year olds. The boys, especially, dote on her continually (which probably contributes to her lack of English. Why bother? They bend over backwards to get whatever it is she’s crying for.) She loves to be the center of attention and will pull some antic at dinnertime if she feels the conversation has excluded her for too long. We all laugh all day long, thanks to her, and she’s never lacking for someone to hold or hug her.

*****

Meanwhile, I’ve passed the 30 week mark with this pregnancy. It’s flying by, partly because I’ve been feeling really good. Tired, but good. Soon, very soon, I’ll need to think seriously about names and mental preparation for labor and figuring out what we need. But for now I just try to keep up my daily stretches and walks, while enjoying the increasingly strong kicks and flutters from within.

Despite the massive disruption of washing dishes in a bathroom sink, making meals without stove or oven, and carrying laundry outside and through the garage and to the washing machine, I’m doing my best to keep the essentials in place: short moments of prayer and Bible together, math and piano and reading, systems for clean clothes and [decently!] healthy food, and most of all, attitudes of thankfulness.

Because we are so, so blessed, especially in the common things that could so easily go unappreciated:

Girls who giggle together far more often than they quibble.
Boys who are best friends.
Child laughter all the time.
Chores that get done fairly well (ha!) and cheerfully by helpful children.
Repentance and forgiveness that flow all day long.
An immoveable Rock beneath us, giving stability and peace to the ebb and flow of life.
And so much more.

all is well

Yesterday I found myself alone at home, Ryan having taken all the children to do errands (something about him that I find amazing.) I stood at the kitchen sink washing dishes, slowly making headway through a long list of to dos.

And my heart felt heavy. So heavy. Why? Oh, it could be a hundred things. Things as small as I’m so tired and will I ever not feel this way? all the way to What does it feel like to buy chocolates and Valentines for your child, only to get a phone call saying they’ve been shot and killed in a senseless act of violence?

The gamut. Sorting it out in a muddling sort of way, trying to just push through, find my footing, whisper prayers…

Then I knew what I needed to hear, and maybe you do, too. I found the video of my beautiful, beautiful boy singing words that are the essence of Good News:

Darkness fell
Into the dawn
Of Love’s light.

And I know it’s a Christmas piece, and there are poinsettias on the stage, but it’s more than just Christmas, and that’s the whole point. All is well now, today, in this moment, and it will be forevermore, because He is our Redeemer.

“Christmas is not an armisticedivinity runs much deeper than a day…”