Post Category → marriage

lemon, honey, and an awesome little family

This is supposed to be day two of our trip to Maine. And maybe it will be later tonight. But for now, I’m just plain ol’ sick. Ridiculously sore glands resulting in sore throat, tender ears, topped off with a good fever and case of chills/aches. I knew it was there, that Virus, when I woke up yesterday morning, though I did my best to persevere a bit. By last night, there was no denying it: I am down for the count.

Today, therefore, was a planned pj day / don’t bother Mama too much day. Does anyone else get a little scared when you embark on those days? I mean, it could go really, really wrong. My kids are sweet and all, but they’re not angels, they make messes, and my house isn’t self-cleaning. I get nervous.

So, since I went into this sick day with such a remarkable heap of faith, I thought I should stop, pause, and say how blessed I have been.

Jameson, on his way to bed last night: “Mama, would you like me to pray for you?” (followed by the sweetest, most thorough and sincere prayer. Like, he really cared!)

This morning he announced, as soon as we were all up (at a very early hour), “Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll take care of William and Beatrice and even Mama!”

He and William then proceeded to get milk, syrup, juice, and dishes onto the table without me even asking.

He even offered to try his hand at pb&j. Really, he would!

(Aside: he’s just discovered that he’s been failing at his “L” sound, and so now is flipping his little tongue with such gusto every time he says one! I haven’t heard an L pronounced so distinctly since I was an accompanist in diction classes! It’s so, so cute.)

William came in and stood by the couch, took my hand, and asked quietly if I would sing a little ABC with him, please? (He, however, doesn’t even attempt L’s, so actually, he asked to sing a widow ABT. He doesn’t do real well with S yet, either.) We sang together, and his eyes just sparkled.

Jameson heard me turning on the TV and requested that we watch some “Tessa” together. That would be Ina Garten, and she has been our very favorite since he was about 18 months old.

Later I heard he and William in the kitchen, up to something. When I asked about their activity, Jameson said, “Oh, I’m just making a chore chart for my day. How do you spell, ‘Pick up for Mama’?” ARE YOU KIDDING?

(Should I be sick more often?)

And lastly, a cute William anecdote that I just can’t forget. I was reading The Long Winter yesterday at naptime. We were reading about Laura and Carrie’s harrowing journey from their schoolhouse to Pa’s store through a terrible blizzard. They couldn’t see the adults they were supposed to be following, but at one point, “Laura suddenly felt Miss Garland’s coat.” William’s eyes were HUGE with intensity and concern, and he blurted out, “But Mama! Was Miss Garland in her coat?” I forget how very literal, and yet how very magical, the world is to a three year old.

Speaking of magical, our next book came from the library. Roxaboxen is the biggest hit we’ve had in awhile, I think. One read through, and the boys were hooked. It’s their world, after all.

P.S. And Ryan brought home the very cutest card for me. Yes, I am very loved.

back in shape

Today, I realize how out of shape my soul is when it comes to spiritual work. (Ironically, this closely mirrors the physical reality of my current condition. Three kids has been fun, but exercise has been soooo far from my mind.)

And I know — give myself a break, right? I’m a mom of young kids. My days fly by in a blur of cuddling babies and pulling out my hair. It’s life right now. But here’s the thing: I hear, “Just do the best you can, ” and I translate that as, “You’re off the hook. Worry about it later.”

But I know better: it doesn’t work that way.

The “I’ll worry about it later” philosophy (in reference to spiritual things) assumes that the only thing against me is my own flesh. I’ll just put dealing with selfishness on the back burner for now; how much worse can it get, right?

Wrong. Because there’s something else against me. Someone. He doesn’t get a lot of attention in mommy blogs or popular parenting books, but that’s okay with him. He’d rather skulk around in the shadows, doing what he’s best at: making us forget he’s there.

Yes, I’m talking about the devil.

Because yes, he’s real. He’s out to destroy, and my kids, my husband, me — we’re all on his hit list. He seems to be unflagging in his energy and drive, too, which means while I’m giving myself a 9 month postpartum vacation, he’s taking advantage of every opportunity to whisper lies to my soul, doubt to my kids, seeds of destruction in my family.

I’m reminded the other night, as two older moms (mine included!) talk about standing strong for your family, that this warfare I’m called to do isn’t complicated. I do have three young kids. Fly-by days are my reality. His yoke is easy, His burden light — but it is still a yoke, and there’s still a field to plow. Jesus didn’t invite me to pluck daisies in the meadow with Him. And I’m challenged afresh: when an older mom says, “Do the best you can,” I need to do the best I can.

I need to pray in tongues…
I need to lift up my family to the Lord…
I need to read, memorize, and meditate on the Word — the sword, the truth that will protect and deliver me when the battle gets fierce…
I need to sing…
More.

Those aren’t hard things. They’re not easy, either (and there’s an enemy who wants to keep it that way.) But this isn’t a 3 hour quiet time regimen.

It’s doing the best I can: Scribbling a verse on a 3×5, making all the kids sit with a Bible story for 10 minutes so I can read, playing a worship song over the morning craziness of breakfast prep, praying every time I wash dishes.

Do I feel better when I’m working to include the disciplines of Christianity in my life? Yes. Do I feel better because it makes me a “better” Christian, or because I think God will be mad at me if I don’t journal for 3 months straight? Goodness, no! Discipline in relationships bears the fruit of intimacy — and I want to have a heart that is ready to hear and know the Holy Spirit.

Anyway, it’s time to get back in shape. I want to be ready to wield that sword with the best of ’em.

Finally, be strong in the Lord, and in the strength of His might. Put on the full armor of God, that you may be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, that you may be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.

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:

memorizing moments [two]

We’re sitting here in the morning sun, breakfast and chores behind us, free to just enjoy fresh breezes and scent of grass. Boys happily play Legos at my feet. And she — this amazing she who has quietly slipped into our family circle — is curled on my chest, perfectly still. For many moments, I sit, thinking she sleeps. But then I move just enough to peek at her little face, and find eyes wide open. She’s not asleep at all, but happy to have her ear pressed against my chest, her sweet hands tucked under her head, just breathing and being.

null

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.

this weekend


Jameson and his cousin, Jackson, wearing new shirts from Nana. These two boys are getting to be good friends. How fun.


William enjoyed dessert at my dad’s birthday party.

Do you even know how much fun it is to be at my dad’s party, and not just waiting to see the pictures from 3,000 miles away? Fun, I tell you!


We love each other.