Category: life & everyday

The Overpass  0

Eliza and I were in the car, her chattering behind me the entire time.  I did my best to listen, really I did, but after 45 minutes, I must admit that my responses were mostly, “mmm-hmm” and “ok”.

But she kept repeating the same thing over and over.

“I want to go up there, Mama!”

“You get ladder, Mama, and you climb and then you pull me up and ours car, too.”

“How they get up there, Mama?”

I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what she was talking about.  And then I noticed a pattern.  Every time we went under an overpass, the conversation started again.

An overpass.  She wanted to go on an overpass.  Her little imagination was in overdrive, trying to figure out how we could do what those other cars were doing.

I. loved. it.

The world is so big, so wonderful to her right now.  Everywhere she turns, there’s something new to discover and understand.  It is one of the most awesome things to have a front row seat to my kids’ spinning gears, to be the one that they talk to about the mysteries in their lives.

Do you ever just feel like the wonder of life has disappeared for you?
Colors seem faded.
I’m just tired.
I wake up in the morning, my mind immediately scrolling through all that needs to be done.
I don’t want to live like that.

I want the wonder of the world to be bigger than whatever circumstances I face today.
I want to believe that God is bigger than any boxes I try to put Him in.
I want my eyes to be like the eyes of my children– bright, searching, taking it all in.
I want to live this one life I’ve been given in a way that means something, that makes a difference in this world.
I want to be excited about life, full of love for my Savior.
I want Him to use me in ways I never imagined.

We indulged Eliza a few days later.  We drove her up on an overpass.  Her eyes got big and round and she was so excited.  It was the littlest, silliest thing, but to her it was a dream come true.  We were “up there” and it didn’t even require a ladder! 

What silly dreams do you have?  Maybe they aren’t so silly.  Maybe God’s just waiting for you to voice them to Him.  He’s created you to live this life you’ve been given.  Live in the mystery and the wonder of it all.

Tune your ears to the world of Wisdom; set your heart on a life of Understanding.

That’s right—if you make Insight your priority, and won’t take no for an answer,

Searching for it like a prospector panning for gold, like an adventurer on a treasure hunt,
Believe me, before you know it Fear-of-God will be yours;    
you’ll have come upon the Knowledge of God. 
Proverbs 2:2-5, The Message

A Kitten Named Seal.  2

We have a new resident in our house.  Well, not the actual house, but in the porch.  He officially belongs to Kate, who has dutifully promised to feed, water, and clean the litter box.
While I’m not much of a cat person, I do truly enjoy watching my animal-loving daughter tote her kitten around, playing with him and sending him sailing down the slide (“He LOVED it, Mom!”). Her neck and arms are lined with scratches and she has never been happier.
Initially, I wasn’t so sure about the whole thing . . . until my book-loving heart practically burst when she suggested the name Seal, after the cat in Sarah, Plain and Tall.  She knows the way to her Mama’s heart– throw something from a good book out there, and there’s no way I can say no.  

“Do you think she’ll come?” asked Caleb.  “And will she stay?  What if she thinks we are loud and pesky?”
“You are loud and pesky,” I told him.  But I was worried, too.  Sarah loved the sea, I could tell.  Maybe she wouldn’t leave there after all to come where there were fields and grass and sky and not much else.
“What if she comes and doesn’t like our house?” Caleb asked.  “I told her it was small.  Maybe I shouldn’t have told her it was small.”
“Hush, Caleb.  Hush.”
Caleb’s letter came soon after, with a picture of a cat drawn on the envelope.
Dear Caleb, My cat’s name is Seal because she is gray like the seals that swim offshore in Maine.  She is glad that Lottie and Nick send their greetings.  She likes dogs most of the time.  She says their footprints are much larger than hers (which she is enclosing in return).Your house sounds lovely, even though it is far out in the country with no close neighbors.  My house is tall and the shingles are gray because of the salt from the sea.  There are roses nearby. Yes, I do like small rooms sometimes.  Yes, I can keep a fire going at night.  I do not know if I snore.  Seal has never told me.Very truly yours, Sarah Elisabeth
“Did you really ask her about fires and snoring?” I asked, amazed.
“I wished to know,” Caleb said.
— Excerpt from Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan

Currently  1

So.  I guess I took the summer off of blogging.  As it turns out, I only have enough brain cells to occupy three very active children, with very little left over for non-essential activities.  It was a great summer, albeit very busy, and I’d be fibbing if I didn’t say that I’ve enjoyed the past few weeks of quiet days.  Thank you, teachers, for allowing me to gather up my brain cells again.

I’ve been having a hard time knowing how to enter back into blogging, but I saw this blog post the other day and decided it would be a fun post to write.

Here I go…

loving . . . . 
my mom’s cookies.  
She sent some home with us a few days ago and I’ve been sneaking them.  
reading . . . 
the Newberry Award Winner books.  
Oh a whim, I printed off a list of all the winners and I’m making my way through them slowly.  I’ve always loved good literature and I’ve always loved to have a goal.  Bingo!
waiting for . . .
September to be over.  
It’s a hard month for me.
excited about . . . 
going with a group of my best MOPS pals to the MOMcon next month.  
My soul is thirsty for some good teaching.  
trying to . . . 
lose 5 pounds.  Always.  
working on . . . 
my new Bible study.  
We’re repeating Beth Moore’s “Believing God” at church and I’m one of the small group leaders.  I love, love, love teaching, especially because of the extra accountability it gives me.
enjoying . . . 
my flowers.  
I feel like I’ve finally gotten the hang of gardening.  I so enjoy an afternoon digging in the dirt. 
using . . . 
instagram.  
I really love documenting my days so quickly and easily.  
wearing . . . 
socks.  
After a few months of going barefoot, it makes me feel warm and cozy.  A good pair of crazy socks is totally underrated.  
planning . . . 
meals.  
I like to have 2-4 weeks of meals planned out.  It helps me not have to run to the grocery store so often and keeps me from frantically searching for dinner ideas at 5:00.  I especially enjoy planning meals in the fall, because there’s still good produce from the summer and it doesn’t make my house super hot when I use my oven.
needing . . . 
to do laundry.  
Because there is just always laundry.  
learning . . . 
that doing the things I’m called to do involves risk.  
Sometimes I’m not very confident in myself, but knowing that God is confident in me gives me strength. 
listening to . . . 
All Sons and Daughters on Pandora.  
It’s my go-to station when I run (if I run.  ha.)  It is my best time of worship, and the mellow-er, the better.  I think that might be weird?
doing . . . 
lots of rearranging.  
Having guests over is the best way to motivate myself to clean and change things up.  I’ve been having lots of fun and my back is killing me!
dreaming of . . . 
how I can use my grief and pain to help others.  
I’m not always sure what the avenues are, but I get such satisfaction out of being able to use Annie’s little life for God’s glory.   It deepens my love for her and for Jesus.   
Whew.  It feels good to be back.  Here’s to more posting in this little space of mine! 

Her Own Style  2

Every Monday and Thursday, she’d emerge from her room ready for the next baseball game. . . .

hair in a ponytail
shirt tucked in 
hat pulled down low
hand-me-down pants and cleats
and fun socks.

I love how she puts her own little mark on whatever she does.
She makes my heart ache with joy as I watch her grow up.

the whatifs  0

Last night, while I lay thinking here,
Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
And pranced and partied all night long
And sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif my kids are dumb in school?
Whatif they contract a disease in the pool?
Whatif I get pregnant and throw up?
Whatif I break grandma’s china cup?
Whatif I get nervous and start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif the color in my hair turns green?
Whatif I can’t fit into my skinny jean?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif my kids don’t grow taller?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my husband wants a divorce?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my kids’ teeth don’t grow in straight?
Whatif I bend over and rip my pants?
Whatif someone sees me dance?
Everything seems swell . . . and then . . .
The nighttime Whatifs strike again!

P.S.  I tweaked this poem after Shel Silverstein’s poem (found here).  My friend had asked me to write about worry in our MOPS newsletter and this is what popped into my head.  It made me giggle.

P.S.  Let’s talk about worry.  It does sneak up on us, especially at night when we finally slow down enough to think.  But God commands us not to worry — it doesn’t really accomplish anything besides getting us into a tizzy (See Matthew 6:25-34).  Worrying doesn’t solve my problems, I don’t gain anything from it, and it is self-seeking.  On the other hand, when I give my worry to God, I know that He will guide me through whatever I’m facing.  He may not solve my problem and it may not disappear, but He promises peace to me.  Next time the Whatifs strike you, rest in God’s promise that if He takes care of the birds, He will certainly take care of you (Matthew 6:26).

Widening the Circle  0

I sit on the lawn, waiting for the Kate and Will to get off the bus, squinting in the sunshine.  The girl waiting with me, she’s working things out.  I hear in her words how she just wants to do the right thing.  It’s easier said than done.   I’m glad she’s talking, but I sure don’t have the answers.  So I listen.

There always seems to be an incoming text on my phone.  Some days it’s during the school day, sometimes it’s in the middle of the night (but hardly ever in the early morning).  I keep my volume up just so I don’t miss it.  I want to be available.

There are a few teenage girls who make their way to my house a few times a week.  I prayed for them for a long time and then they just started coming.

I love it.  Love it.

I pick them up from school an hour before my kids come home and we just get to hang out.  Sometimes we talk about deep things– hurts and hopes and pressures they face.  Most of the time we just talk.  It’s good for me and I hope it’s good for them.

I realize it’s way more fun and way less pressure to be their friend instead of their parent.  Because don’t we all remember how one day we decided that there were other people we listened to and tried to emulate? I had a great relationship with my parents during my teen years, but that didn’t mean that I wanted to be with them all of the time.  It was a few years later that I realized oh yeah, my parents may actually know what they’re talking about.  

As I pray for these girls, I pray for my own kids.  That one day, when my voice fades into the distance, they will seek out counsel from others who are godly and wise.  Someone who will invest in them and be willing to ask the hard questions.  Someone who my kids will trust to ask the questions that they’re wrestling over.  I want to be sure that those people share my beliefs and love for Christ and are trustworthy.  Not to replace who I am– I will always be The Mom– but to come alongside me and be a trusted voice during the most tumultuous years.

It pains me a little to write that.  I like to be on the side of the equation where other girls think I’m the cool one.  I’d rather not be the Mom watching my kids seek out others.  But I also know that it’s important for them to not just be a cookie cutter of me– they need to widen their circle to explore who they are going to be.   And truthfully, Peter and I can’t parent alone.  We need others in our kids’ lives.  It happens now, and it will happen more as they grow older.

If you could choose five people in your circle to be an influence your kids, who would it be?

 It’s a question I’m praying over for my own kids, as I pray over these girls who make their way to my table each week.

P.S.  When I need parenting advice, one of my favorite blogs is Orangeparents.org

A Wednesday List of Good Things  0

1.  Today the first flower on our tree popped open!  There have been years when we had to be away for a few days during the spring and I almost cancelled the trip because I was afraid I’d miss the flowers on this tree.  It’s my favorite.

2.  Will found a secret stash of hyacinths and picked them from me.  They smell amazing and he is the best son ever.  (Bear agrees.  And who does he think he is?!  The centerpiece or something!?)

3.  This dog is getting old.  But that still doesn’t keep him from running off.  He did it again last night and he has a nasty limp today to prove it.

4.  I’m fairly sure that iced coffee was invented by a mom.  After three attempts of drinking a warmed up cup this morning, I finally pitched it without a sip.  Thankfully my sweet husband brought me home a fresh one from Tim Horton’s.  I’m drinking it right now.  And it’s cold.  I just didn’t want to risk the few minutes I have to drink it.

5.  The girls and I planted a few seeds last weekend and we had a lot of fun together.  Kate even wrote about it at school.  I felt so blessed that on the day she wrote about friendship, she wrote about me.

6.  I really start to miss the big kids once May hits.  It just seems like they should be home.  But I will say that I’m not looking forward to my quiet afternoons being taken from me.  I wonder how long I can make “Mandatory Reading Time” seem fun?

7.  I found a few neighbors who moved in without us knowing.  I’ve been peeking at them all the time.

8.  I’m having a hard time really believing that spring has finally come to Michigan.  But I think it may be true.  The first s’more seals the deal, doesn’t it!?

Happy Wednesday to you!

Marching On.  1

I made it.

March is over and I have marched my way through it.

Most days this month were filled with the mundane.  We also tossed a few extras in there:  vomit, double ear infection, pink eye, days and days of high fever, more earaches, and a case of the hives.  I spent most of the month stuck in the house, looking out the window, longing for a sliver of sunshine to break through the clouds, both literally and figuratively.

Have you had those months?  The ones that you had great intentions and you were going to do amazing things . . . and then it all just crumbles around you?  When things are just okay, which is fine, except this was your month to be big!?

A mysterious package arrived at my doorstep a few days ago.  It was a new book (from my amazing friend, Lisa.  If only you all could be so blessed to have a Lisa in your lives!) by Jerry Sittser called A Grace Revealed.   Jerry lost his mom, wife, and daughter to a drunk driving accident and has written some super thought provoking stuff, as you can imagine.

So the past few days I’ve been pondering how God redeems our lives, how He continues to write our stories during the good times, the bad times, and the normal, everyday times.  He can use it all– He does use it all– and we get a front row seat as we seek to know Him more.

He says, “God is using ordinary people to make the world whole and healthy again.  I wonder how that might be true . . . for you and me?  How might the little story of my life and your life contribute to the bigger story of the world’s redemption?  It is hard to see from day to day, largely because our own stories seem so trivial, meaningless, or random.  We race through life, enduring tragedy, laboring on the job or at home, doing routine tasks, often so distracted by pressures and responsibilities that we lack the time, energy, or even interest to think much about the possible significance of our life story.  We seem like workers on an assembly line who have forgotten to consider the high-end product we are helping to make” (p. 68)

And I am convicted and inspired all at once to use the one life I’ve been given to use the tragedy of my life, the amazing blessings in my life, and all the little nameless, forgettable things in between.  Because more than anything, I want God to redeem my story through His.

Sigh.  Goodbye, March.  Hello April.  It sure is good to see you.

Week In Review  2

I’m MARCHING through March.
Last Friday, we were able to take three huge bags of books to Mott’s Children’s Hospital for Annie’s birthday.  
 
My MOPS (Mother’s of Preschoolers) group donated the books for us.  I was humbled and honored to watch the books come in.  It was so fun.  We loaded them up and took a trip to Ann Arbor.
We’ve made it a practice to make the trek down to the city where we spent our last days with our girl.  And while it’s not easy, it’s always worth it.  
We’ve made it a fun day, which is only by the grace of God because it hasn’t been the happiest thing for me to drive that road between here and there.  
We eat a great lunch.
We visit the hospital.
We hit our favorite stores.
We celebrate with cupcakes.
And we end at the bookstore.

 We love our tradition of celebrating Annie’s birthday.  Not as good as having her with us, but still good.

The rest of the week?  Well, there’s been a lot of medicine and antibiotics.  Movies.  Extra “pa time”.  William’s holding out, but the girls have both been down for the count.  It happens.

And then yesterday, Kate’s other bottom tooth came out.  Kate was over the moon and thanks to my bright idea to have William act as Captain Tooth Fairy, so was he.  He was giddy tonight to sneak into her room and put the money under her pillow.

 And then there was a little of this:  Eliza in cowboy boots, an afro wig, trying to do a somersault.  This is my life.

Often crazy, always blessed.

Growing Up  2

I was downstairs throwing a bunch of laundry in the washing machine when I heard the sound of a little chair scraping along the kitchen floor.

When I got upstairs, I was greeted by this face:

And a new trick was learned.

Perhaps my favorite trait of two year olds is how proud they are when they discover something new they can do.

It’s worth a few spills to watch her grow.  But not too fast, okay Eliza?  Mama need a little time to catch her breath.