Post Category → william

new room for Beattie

Tonight, for the first time since August 17, 2011, I came into my room at 10:30pm and turned on more than a nightlight. For the first time, I didn’t bother to tip-toe. And I didn’t spend 5 minutes stumbling around by the light of my phone, trying to find the pajamas I just had in my hands. For the first time in almost two years, our room is not being shared with a baby girl.

Instead, fresh sheets were put on the bed in the Yellow Room. The antique quilt I nabbed at an auction was spread and admired by a little girl. Dresser drawers were filled with little clothes, and Most Special dolls and animals were given a place of honor at fluffed pillows.

For the first time, we have a little girl’s bedroom in our house (which will continue to double as a guest room as needed!)

Two excited brothers eagerly volunteered to do the bedtime reading and prayers. They kissed her forehead and tucked her in tight. She beamed.

Know what’s funny? Her favorite color is yellow. How thrilled do you think she was to look up and all around and see golden yellow wallpaper? Thrilled.

Our little baby. Growing up.

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my boys

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These boys are the world to me.

I tiptoed through the hall after they’d been put to bed, and heard a little voice call me, with so much love in it, “Good night, Mama.”

I am so blessed by their deep, genuine, forgiving love.

weekend catch-up

On Friday, we took a field trip — about the only kind of field trip I ever manage to pull off:

We crossed the road, walked through our neighbor’s yard, and stood at the edge adjoining a huge hayfield, where tractors were pulling super cool equipment and shaping cut, dried grass into huge bales. The kids thought it was really neat, I loved the breeze and smell of dried hay, and the farmers must have enjoyed the late afternoon pick-me-up of three cute and enthusiastic kids pointing and waving as they rolled by.

Field trip: Check.

On Saturday, I cut up a watermelon for an after dinner treat. It was a hit. And of course, watching Beatrice discover the wonderfulness of holding a huge slice of juicy sweetness in her little hands? Priceless. (Last summer she was still a crawling, nursing infant. This summer is all about discovery!)

Today, I grabbed a few pics while attempting to gather these three crazies for a “Happy Father’s Day” video. Beatrice doesn’t like being moved around like a baby, and she also is prone to totally cheese out when asked to smile. As you can see:

And this guy. He is the world to three little people. They adore him, but why wouldn’t they? He loves them all the time, as deeply and fully as he can.

“The glory of children is their father.” –Proverbs 17.6

numbering

Sometimes, in the middle of all the work of life, I inwardly stop. I notice the speed at which life is moving, almost hear the seconds ticking away, the hours slipping past. It makes me so deeply thankful for the little gifts of each day — things that are really not so “little”, after all. (A husband I love and admire? Three children who are healthy and precious? Not so “little”.)

It also makes my heart hurt. Makes me want to clench my fist a bit tighter, in the hopes that the sands of time might get trapped for just a minute more.

But the inevitable passing of time isn’t meant to make us get stingier, more close-fisted, screeching on the brakes, resentful of each ticking second. No, learning to number our days is a wake up call: Turn your heart to wisdom. Keep eternity ever before you.

For me, right now? It means: Every day with this child is precious — and not just because childhood is fleeting, but because eternity is a reality they must be prepared to face.

Teach us to number our days — not so we can revel a bit more in the warm fuzzies, so we can take more pictures (although being thankful is so often aided by those pauses). Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

*****

Moments I’m cherishing:

waking up to two little bed partners, the sun kissing chubby cheeks and rosy lips

my pudgy-armed baby girl

brothers who live almost every single minute in togetherness

first independent trip down the slide

an oldest brother who gets his siblings situated in front of Curious George, so Mama can rest

a little girl who always says yes when asked, “Do you want a hug?”

and a repost from this past January — a photo that left a lump in my throat when I saw it last night. Two boys, proudly showing me their first independently built snowman. This day in their little lives will never be repeated, but how thankful I am to have been there to cheer and applaud them. They are so precious.