Post Category → motherhood

big happenin’s

:: Liana and Camilla are arriving tomorrow evening. Do you know how excited I am? Of course, there’s the usual yay-my-family-is-coming sort of excitement. But it’s a bit more, too. I love having a huge family, and I love being the oldest — except for the part about being grown up, out of the house, and across the country when the youngest set is still growing up. Way too sad. So getting to spend a whole month with my youngest sisters is an extra-special blessing for me. I can’t wait for all of the special and everyday moments we’ll share this month.

:: William plays peekaboo. It’s so cute. You’ll have to take my word for it, because I don’t have the video, but it is over-the-top adorable. So is the bit of babbling he’s been trying out lately. Oh, that boy is the sweetest!

:: I’m not usually trying to find ways to ditch my kids. I actually love having them around. That’s okay, right? Occasionally, someone will communicate their deep pity for me when William screams his head off in the arms of a total stranger. You know — you poor thing, you never get any break. As my friend at church said, “Well, that’s kind of what we signed up for.” Yup, and I love it. All that said, when Ryan offered to take not just Jameson this evening, but William, too, I jumped on it. I’m beat. I’m now also totally lost. What to do, what to do? (I opted for the just sit option.)

:: I’ve been slowly working my way through Why We’re Not Emergent, and am loving it. I don’t have much to say about it right now — simply that it’s nice to put words to my gut instincts (which these guys do), and I’m realizing anew how much I love ancient boundaries. (There. I managed to not even rant. Not even a bit.)

:: My two sisters are coming! And did I mention that they’ll be filling my house with violin and piano for a whole month? Do you know how much I miss a house full of music? (Because, no, I don’t sit and play the piano all day. And yes, back home there is always someone playing something. Always.)

:: I shall now continue my restorative sitting.

a mom thing

This morning, Jameson drew his very first face. Granted, this face was the weirdest shape I’ve ever seen, and the cheeks were random lines outside that random shape, but still. I was extremely proud.

Which made me laugh. I get a kick out of how excited I get over little accomplishments. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m saying, “Wow. You are totally one of those moms you couldn’t quite wrap your mind around when you were 18.”

Life’s awesome like that.

Books: Olly and Me

Olly and Me, by Shirley Hughes

This is our newest library find, and a super-enjoyable one, at that! It’s a book of poems about a little girl, her little brother, and their family life. Jameson loves the subject matter, as it’s all familiar to him. And the paintings are fabulous. Often, a long poem on a two-page spread doesn’t hold his attention because of the illustration to text ratio, but not in this case. I think our favorite poem is one about fireworks — Hughes’ illustration of vibrant colors exploding in energetic brush strokes against the dark sky captured both our attention for quite some time. (In fact, I suddenly can’t wait for the 4th of July!)

simple truth

This morning we heard the news that last night, a 4-month-old baby was pronounced dead after having been left in a car all day.

It reminded me of a simple truth I often forget: my babies need me. And not just in a, “Aww! Let Mama kiss your boo-boo!” sort of way. They literally need me.

What do I do all day? Change diapers. Feed little people. Apply sunscreen. Put down for naps. Wipe noses. Change more diapers.

So simple. So simple it can seem mundane. So simple that it gets confused with so insignificant. So simple, our mocking culture tells us, “Anyone can do that. Why are you wasting your life?”

So simple, I forget: for these two little boys, this simple care is literally life and death. They’re alive, fed, rested, healthy because I am doing the simple things.

I hear about situations of gross negligence, and my perspective for the whole day is changed. Suddenly, it’s a privilege to change a diaper, to give my child a clean bottom. Do you know that he would be covered with filth if I didn’t? Do you know that he needs me? I reach up into the cupboards and assemble pb&j for Jameson, and realize, he would literally starve without this simple care.

A few days ago, William had a little blip in his usual routine where he suddenly did not want to be nursed to sleep. Instead, he wanted to be wrapped just so, held just so, rocked just so. And as I laid his sleeping body in his basket, the thought popped into my head that I am the only human being on the planet who knows just what my little baby needs to go to sleep. I hold that secret — and it’s not a little thing. He needs me.

This is not nothing. This is not a waste. This is not insignificant. This is about giving my children life.

What a privilege!

honeycomb; p.s.

I’ve been trying to read more. In theory, if I keep a book nearby to grab during all of my nursing sessions, I could read quite a bit. Of course, this means staying on top of things and making sure there’s a book I’d like to read in the house!

Right now, I’m [re]reading Future Men. This is not a book review. Perhaps one will be forthcoming, but I just had to note something so good, so interesting.

As you would assume, this is a book on raising boys to be men. (Believe it or not, becoming a man doesn’t happen by simply allowing to Time to do its thing!) One chapter is titled, “Secret Sin, Tolerated Sin.” Here’s the snippet and thought I wanted to share:

But not all sin is hidden away. In many homes there is another category, that of open, tolerated sin.

Pause. What do you think he’s going to address? Something pretty big and bad, right? Something scandalous that certainly we would never allow, right? I guess that’s what I was ready for. But instead:

This is usually tolerated verbal sin — words spoken around the house. There are many aspects to this because we sin more with our mouths than any other way…

Isn’t that interesting? The sins of spreading falsehood, foolish presumptions, just too much talking, spite, haste, gossip — things that are so often right under our noses, and we don’t even notice. (Perhaps we easily grow accustomed to the stench?)

Can I just say one more thing about how awesome my parents are? Sorry to sound like a Johnny One-note (but you would, too, you know!)

My parents didn’t tolerate these sins in our house. No one got off the hook because, you know, it’s just home and family and we should be free to let our guard down a bit now and then… We weren’t allowed to blow up at each other, get snippy and rude, make sarcastic comments, and Mom piped up when the conversation was veering quickly into the muck and mire of gossip, mockery, or just plain foolishness. No one got roasted around the family dinner table. Well, except for a few choice politicians now and then, and even so, we’d end up getting called on the carpet and told to honor and pray for our leaders. See? It just wasn’t allowed.

And I really appreciate that! There is no loophole in the scriptures for speaking wholesome words — unless you’re just talking with a sibling, in which case you can enjoy all the tasty trifles you want.

If anything, our family relationships should be where we learn the art of holding our tongues, guarding our words, cultivating speech that is seasoned with grace. There, we learn how to repent for hasty words, foolish conversations, barbed comments, taking full responsibility for the effects of such actions.

Because watching our speech isn’t just something we can do to be more pious. Words count. More than you or I even understand. And they count at home just as much as they do anywhere else.

p.s. Another post on mom and us today.

enough, and more

One of the things I really appreciate about my parents is how practical their Christianity is. By their example, I realized that Christianity applies to every waking minute, every task you put your hand to, every thought that graces (or attacks!) your consciousness.

The very cool thing about faith becoming an everyday, practical living sort of thing is that suddenly, amazing passages of scripture apply to me! I don’t have to be hosting revival meetings in sub-Saharan Africa for the writing of Paul to have meaning in my life. You know?

Like this one, for example:

And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that always having all sufficiency in everything, you may have an abundance for every good deed. (2 Cor 9:8)

That verse has been a rock of truth so many days in the last six months. When I’m exhausted. Weary. Unsure. Stretched thin. Empty. Probably popular counsel would tell me that I should call Ryan, tell him to get home and watch the kids, and go to the spa for a day. ‘Cause, you know, I clearly need me time. But this life-giving, empowering Word tells me this: God can make all grace abound to me. In Him, I have all sufficiency. And I have an abundance for every good deed.

Deeds like speaking patiently. Doing more laundry. Even folding and putting away that laundry. Being awake because I can’t sleep on the job. (You know, the big things.) Serving my husband faithfully.Smiling.

When a nagging whisper tells me I don’t have enough to give a single bit more to anyone, the Word tells me there is a Fount that never runs dry. There is grace, sufficiency, and abundance.

That is the kind of Christianity I need.

And that is the kind of God we serve.