Post Category → marriage

worth.

Sigh.

Somehow, today sort of ran me over. Broadsided me. Mowed me down. It was a hit and run that left me here, stunned, trying to understand how it could already be dinner time.

Where did it go? How did it slip through my fingers so quickly? How did it hit so hard, take such a toll, and leave me with nothing to show for it?

The baby fell into peaceful naptime slumber, nursing contentedly. It was then that I heard the whisper, clear as day,

“What a waste this day was.”

I smiled ruefully. Wow. I can’t believe I just let that thought pass through my mind. But I did. It was there. Dark and shadowy and real.

I’ve been around the block a few too many times to let it linger. Those sorts of thoughts need nothing more than to be immediately evicted.

Evict I do, determined to replace fable with truth.

Let’s see, I begin. Today was not a waste, because today I, umm, well, I made coffee. Right. Let’s see, then I well, took a shower. Yes, that’s good. K, theennnn, oh! Laundry! I did some laundry!…

Obviously this is not the right approach for winning this battle, as today’s accomplishments of a little cleaning, a little cooking, and a few diapers don’t amount to much more than that whispered suggestion of a waste.

I try another tack.

I look down at sleeping babe, the one who jabbered and played all the while I made dinner; who, when I paused to notice him happily entertaining himself, smiled peacefully at me and caused a prayer of thanksgiving to bubble up in me. This babe whose smile widened when I put on the ergo, who made me laugh when I realized how much he truly enjoys being on my back while I water gardens, pull garbage cans from the road’s edge, chop onions and garlic, switch the loads from washer to dryer. He gave me a bit of a run for my money today, somehow getting out of the starting gate with a bit more speed than I could match, but we managed to fall into our rhythm of mama and child. Sleeping now, I caress his chubby arm, touch his fat fingers clasped around a fistful of my shirt. His shortened curls shine like copper pennies. I breathe deeply, and know that I love him even deeper.

And I know that I can’t compute today’s worth, for I’ve lost track of the smiles we shared, the I love yous that were spoken, the little songs and scriptures recited. I think of the man who has been gone since morning, working hard when he likes it and when he doesn’t, because we need him to be our provider. And I realize again that the sum is greater than the parts: that dinner made, laundry clean, gardens tended, house tidied equals a home for him.

Greatest of all, there is One ever watching, calculating, adding, causing our sowing to bring later reaping — and there has never been a day in history that has slipped through His fingers. He knows each moment, each smile, each word and thought and gesture of kindness — and He says that they count.

And He’s always right.

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.

tid bits.

I’ve been a bit spoiled this past week. Our house will be available in two days, and in the meantime, we’ve been staying in hotels. This means I don’t even have to make the bed if I don’t want to. (I do.) It also has meant a nice clean pool to play in each morning, or afternoon, or whenever it seems like a fun thing to do. My daily schedule has included a short walk to obtain a cup of coffee (either here or, of course, here), a swim/splash fest in the pool with Jameson, exploratory walks where we shop or swing or just sit and nurse, depending on what we discover, and naps. Plenty of naps.

This is not, I realize, the hard life.

That said, I am definitely looking forward to starting a “real” life. One that will include a house, home-cooked meals, a private backyard, and routine. Routine. Goodness, I love routine.

I have plenty of pictures to post, but my connection, via hotel, doesn’t seem to want to authenticate my flickr uploadr — and I refuse to spend two hours browsing and uploading one at a time. So. They’ll have to wait.

The forecast for the weekend? Highs of 71, perfectly sunny. Not bad, eh? (Ask me what I think in October, when the forecast is still highs of 71 and sunny, while you all are enjoying the smells and sights of autumn in New York [or wherever you’re reading this from.])

I’ve been watching SO MUCH Food Network. Holy cow. I should have a culinary degree by the end of the week, I think. But I’ve also been reading 1 John. (Not as much as I’ve been watching Emeril, if truth be told. Gotta work on that.) I’m just reading it through right now, doing the “big picture” thing. Every now and then I find myself tuned out, because the words are as familiar as Mother Goose rhymes. Other times, I find the words suddenly becoming the memory of a Psalty song (“Beloved, let us love one another. love one another…) But however lousy my mental discipline may be, I’m getting the “people who know God should LOVE” message loud and clear.

Sort of.

It’s funny that it wasn’t until 2.5 times through 1 John that it occurred to me that all of this love stuff probably applies to my relationship with Ryan. Huh. Go figure. I am so used to reading this book and thinking about “the brethren” that I forget that these challenges hit much closer to home (or should.) It’s not just “the world” that should see in my love for them God Himself; it’s Ryan, too. I’m smart enough to know that Ephesians 5 applies to me as a wife; it’s all the rest of the Bible that I sometimes forget about.

We’ll work on that, too.

we’re here.

Hi!

We made it!

Friday evening found us landing in the San Francisco airport, a bit harried, a lot tired, and mostly happy to see Daddy.

My thoughts on the flights:

1. I can’t complain. I didn’t get sick, and Jameson didn’t fuss for even a second the ENTIRE DAY. What a kid.
2. Nonetheless, I found myself wanting to complain. I just don’t like flying.
3. Reminding myself, while running through O’Hare with a heavy baby on my hip and trying to steer a heavily-laden stroller with one hand, that my mom would think of this as an adventure, helped me smile. Even through security, which surprised every guard there.
4. Although I don’t condone handing off children to total strangers, I will say that exceptions can and should be made. When I got through security and had to (with one hand) assemble my collapsed stroller, position the carseat, put the laptop back in the bag, put two bags over my shoulder without dropping the contents which had been hastily stuffed inside, and put my shoes back on, I decided to say yes when a kind lady from the next line over offered to hold my baby for a minute. (I realized later that that one minute was the only time, for 10 hours straight, that I was not holding Jameson. Wow, I am sooo ripped.)
5. Last thought: I dread going home to visit. Maybe someday, when I’ve mastered packing and baby-balancing, that dread will dissipate.

But enough with planes and airports. How ’bout some California?

Saturday we did some traipsing. Sunday, too. Ryan is a great traipser, and I think it’s one of his favorite thins to do. So far, we’ve done downtown Los Altos (cute shops, yummy breakfast), Santa Cruz (too touristy for my husband who likes to remind me that he grew up on the ocean and doesn’t do public beaches), San Jose (where we overheard a girl walking out of G*cci: “Oh m’gosh, what a great deal! It was like $1725!,” and we’re pretty sure, judging by security guards at the door of the store, that she didn’t mean $17.25), Palo Alto (more on that later), and Halfmoon Bay.

Lots of sunshine and lots of togetherness for this little family of three.

*sigh*

We love each other.

Moving along…

Monday was our 2nd anniversary. Ryan had a gift ready and waiting, and, in true Ryan-style, it was killing him to have to wait till Monday to give it to me. Lucky for him, Jameson spit up all over my clothes right before leaving for church on Sunday, and Ryan whisked out his gift bag, ready to save the day with a brand new outfit. Usually I’m not okay with early gift-giving, but in this instance (new clothes, that is), it was fine by me.

Oh — so, Sunday was church. Hmm. I’ll run out of time if I write about that too much. Suffice to say, I met a really friendly couple, and we’re going out with their family next week after church, at which point she’ll grill me about homeschooling. I really liked her, and I’m looking forward to getting together.

Back to anniversary: Sunday night was coming to an end, and with it, our special weekend together. Monday morning, Ryan would go to work, and my week in the hotel with Jameson would begin. I was a bit sad, that’s for sure. So was Ryan — I thought.

Until he finally told me, as the night was coming to a close, that he had taken the day off so we could celebrate our anniversary together! Ooh, I was so excited! Another day of “vacation”!

The whole day would be a surprise, however. He only told me be ready to leave by 8am.

The big surprise was unveiled as we drove into Palo Alto and stopped at a very chic spa. Ryan had set up an appointment for an hour of massage, preceded by time in a private jacuzzi/sauna room. Oo-la-la. I felt like Fancy Nancy! (Sorry to all you who only have little boys. I’m sure you haven’t read that book.)

So the boys drove off, and Jameson cooperated with the plan by sleeping the entire time I was at the spa. I did, too. Well, maybe it was wasn’t full-fledged sleeping, but I was definitely relaxing with my eyes closed, drinking in every detail of the teak jacuzzi, the water spilling over smooth brown tile, being pampered and spoiled and quiet for a whole hour… I’ll tell ya, I wouldn’t think of myself as a spa kind of girl, but I figured out how to enjoy myself, that’s for sure.

Anyway.

After eating our umpteenth meal at Whole Foods, we headed out to Halfmoon Bay. (Is it one word or two? Not sure…) It was a gorgeous drive, although nothing beats Big Sur. Trust me. The temperature at the Bay was wonderfully refreshing. The shops were darling. The company was perfect. Although we didn’t spend gobs of time there in an effort to beat rush hour traffic, we did mark it as a place to revisit.

The only sad part about our anniversary was that I was counting on Ryan being gone all day, thus giving me an opportunity to buy him a card and such — since I hadn’t had much of a chance in the weeks preceding our move. But, no worries. I’ve since rectified the situation, and tonight he’ll get a belated anniversary token from yours truly.

Ryan is fabulous. After being away for a month, I’m finding renewed appreciation for him. We arrived to a neat and tidy hotel room, where his clothes fit nicely into the drawers, and his one piece of luggage was tucked away, out of sight. No longer. Now we are three, and I packed gobs and gobs, knowing we’d be without our belongings for quite a bit. I’m very aware of how much more difficult his life became the minute we landed at the airport — but he assumes his role as husband and father without complaint. Now there are bags to be carried, a baby to be hushed, less room in the bed, more food to be bought… It goes on and on, and you all know the little but constant services required of a dad. Well, I love him for every one. He’s a great guy.

Do I miss home? Well, my dad always said there are no dumb questions, but if there was, that would be one of them. However, I’m sure there will be plenty on that topic in upcoming posts. For now, I’ll just say that I woke up Saturday morning and asked Ryan, “Is it okay that I’m already homesick?”

But that’s all for now. Thanks for reading!

my mysteries

I know for a fact that my mother raised nine children, and she did it without farming us all out for a month every time a new baby was born.

I know for a fact that my sister comes to church with three children in tow — and they’re all dressed with matching socks and hair bows. Oh, and she’s dressed, too.

So then, I wonder, why is it that day after day, no matter how hard I try, by 11:00 all I have to show for my efforts is a dressed and clean baby who is fed and back asleep — while I am still unshowered, in my pj’s, sitting in the midst of the mess that little elves must make while we sleep at night. (The fact that I go to bed with a tidy house and wake up to clutter is a mystery I have yet to unravel. HOWEVER, my socks don’t disappear in the dryer. One less mystery for me to solve.)

And while we’re on the subject of “how do they do it”, what do I do when Jameson outgrows morning naps, but I need to take a shower? By baby #3, I suppose there are older siblings who can scream the alarm when the house catches on fire, or the baby is stuck between the rungs on the highchair, but what about with baby #1?

Maybe I’ll just cross that bridge when I get there. And maybe I should hurry up and take my walk while my baby-who-still-naps is napping. (Another question for another day: how do you exercise with more than one baby to juggle?)

P.S. Did you all get a good look at the photo below? Can you imagine waking up to that little face every morning? Even if it’s because he just spit up all over my sheets, it’s still the sweetest greeting I’ve ever gotten.

favorite moments

My favorite recent moments have been these:

** While home alone with Jameson, I sang my favorite hymns to him. I sat here with my laptop, found an online hymnal (replete with sound bytes, for when I found my memory faltering), and sang as heartily as I pleased. Sharing the rich lyrics that have conveyed conviction and inspired faith from generation to generation has been one of the things I’ve looked forward to in motherhood. He nestled against my chest and fell asleep as I rocked and sang…

‘Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus,
and to take him at his word;
just to rest upon his promise,
and to know, “Thus saith the Lord.”

Jesus, Jesus, how I trust him!
How I’ve proved him o’er and o’er!
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus!
O for grace to trust him more!

O how sweet to trust in Jesus,
just to trust his cleansing blood;
and in simple faith to plunge me
neath the healing, cleansing flood!

Yes, ’tis sweet to trust in Jesus,
just from sin and self to cease;
just from Jesus simply taking
life and rest, and joy and peace.

I’m so glad I learned to trust thee,
precious Jesus, Savior, friend;
and I know that thou art with me,
wilt be with me to the end.

**I’m doing my best to remember to pray while I feed Jameson. Quiet times — the good, old fashioned kind with Bible, journal, pen, and piano — are few and faaaarrr between. But I find my perspective righted and my heart connected when I begin to pray for Jameson’s destiny. It’s amazing how simply watching my baby nurse stirs meditations on God’s faithfulness, His ever-extending reign, the promise of eternity, and the need to live in the light of His coming. That’s what I want for Jameson — and so I find my own life sifted, sorted, and straightened out.

And this isn’t a favorite moment, just a thought: Some people are aware — painfully so — of the corrupt world they’ve brought their baby into. And certainly that’s a harsh reality. Life only becomes more uncertain, and the days more evil. That’s what the Bible says, and that’s what we see. But that has not inspired fear in me as I’ve considered Jameson’s future. I’ve grown up convinced that there has never been a better time to serve the Lord, and that the best is yet to come (doesn’t it say somewhere that the glory of the Lord will cover the earth like water the sea?) Should the Lord tarry in His return, that means Jameson will see far greater things than I will. More than that, though, I know that the Lord has been faithful to generation after generation of believers, and that’s not about to change. I may release Jameson into a world that hates God, but I commit him to a Father whose love endures forever. I know that whatever else Jameson may experience, he will also know the favor and faithfulness of the Lord. And that excites me. I cannot wait to share the Lord with him!

Ryan’s birthday is coming up. Last year I missed his special day, so I’m looking forward to making dinner for him and hopefully making him feel loved… because he is. Very much. I love him.

Oh — and my little man is deciding that he likes his Baby Bjorn carrier. Today I took him for a walk in it, and then later, when I couldn’t get him to sleep no matter what, I put him in it while I made a cake — and voila! Sleep!