july, part 1

It’s the last day of July. Sand through fingers, vapors in the wind, all of that — it’s true. It just disappears. No matter how deeply you savor, how much of its pain and beauty you try to memorize, how thankful you purpose to be, these moments just fly.

July, especially. My, did it fly.

So now I’m a solid month of photos and happenings behind on this blog, my little record of family life. It’s Thursday afternoon, and after four days of a blessedly quiet week, my soul (and my house, for that matter) are starting to catch up. I can sit and do photos, at last.

*****

The Fourth of July. Reading and discussing the Constitution, the Declaration, the heroism of men who choose courage and principle that would benefit us. Not for their own sake, but for us, they signed their names on that Declaration, as good as a death sentence. Courage: Choosing the right thing in the face of fear. Not everything they did was perfectly right, I know, but acting out of selfless principle and with courage, as men ought to do? That is pretty right. What a good heritage. Dressing in red, white, and blue. Heading to a local parade, joined by most of my clan. Spending a lazy afternoon on the side porch together, and ending things with pound cake topped with berries and loosely whipped cream. Perfect.

And then, a few days later, there was a trip to Maine. The kids, my generous sister, and me. It was absolutely wonderful.

There was good food, which the kids keep talking about. There was the pool, from about 7:30am till dinnertime and maybe even after. There was whiffle ball and golf, water balloons and bubbles. Dress up! Excursions to the rocky shore. A morning at a quiet beach inhabited by hundreds of hermit crabs. Rooftop views. Ice cream cones. Babies napping long, children playing hard, grown ups soaking in sun. Cousins we seldom see, aunts and uncles we love. Lots of tears the evening before our departure, because this was the time of their lives. Special memories. This little family went home feeling very loved by Papa and Meme.

cheater posts: photo dump

Not many words, though plenty of them are swirling around this pollen-fogged head of mine. While four children lounge on a couch, watching Little Bear on an overcast summer morning, I will post photos.

Lots of growing. Babies make you stop and say, “Oh my!” Seven-year-old-boys who are almost eight don’t scream for attention in the same way. They slip quickly and steadily toward manhood and suddenly my heart is in my throat and I want to yell, “Stop!” They don’t stop. If they did, mothers would squander (we’re human beings, prone to a bit of lazy and selfish, after all.) They don’t stop, and so I must live purposefully. Give, sow, love. Every day.

babies discovering windows: top 5 favorite things to watch

my glamorous life, captured by william

slowly becoming the full, crazy patch of flowers I’ve been dreaming of

she hit the mother lode

simple pleasures

just mama and babe, on an evening errand

this boy knows when he’s tired

I promise, I do have beds for my children

playground + ice cream date outing with mama. sometimes you just gotta eat a huge ice cream cone for lunch and call it a day.

bound by love

“Christian childrearing is a pastoral pursuit, not an organizational challenge,” writes Rachel Jankovic. And I am stopped in my tracks.

Pastor them. Shepherd them.

Amy Carmichael wrote, “The salvation of a single child—who can measure what that may mean not only here but There? You can’t do everything. ‘After it, follow it, follow the Gleam.’ For us the Gleam is the salvation of children, and it involves the prosaic towel. ‘He took a towel.’ So we won’t mind if our feet are bound, for it is Love that binds them.* His were bound on the cross.”

*Tamil proverb: ‘Children bind the mother’s feet.’

Take a towel. Serve them.

may memories

Apple blossoms…

Circuses imagined up and created by my children, presented with pride to me on a Saturday morning…

clown, lion, lion tamer — who later became tumblers, tight-rope walkers, peanut vendors, and tap dancers!

Guitars and new songs about sunshine…

Smooshed cheeks that made me laugh…

Ryan coming home to mow the field of wildflowers that was our lawn (very romantic, but not terribly practical for playing)…

And an afternoon of amazing sky drama that only happens in the summertime…

from Loving the Little Years

ecclesiastes 5.19:

Everyone to whom God has given wealth, and possessions, and the power to enjoy them, and to accept his lot and rejoice in his toil—this is the gift of God. For he will not much remember the days of his life because God keeps him occupied with joy in his heart.

“Blessings, like children, are not ethereal and weightless. Sometimes they feel like they come at you like a Kansas hail storm—they might leave a welt!

But if you accept your lot and rejoice in your toil, God will give you the kind of overwhelming joy that cannot remember the details.

Motherhood is hard work. It is repetitive and often times menial. Accept it. Rejoice in it. This is your toil. Right here.

Those are their faces. Enjoy them.

The days of your life are supposed to be full of things like this.

But joy is not giddy. It is not an emotional rush—it is what happens when you accept your lot and rejoice in your toil.

So rejoice in your children. Look them in the eyes and give thanks.

You will not even remember the work of all this planting when the harvest of joy overwhelms you.” (Rachel Jankovic, Loving the Little Years, emphasis mine.)