Memories

I ran across an old Client's mother today. I was suddenly back in my old office - funny how memories work. Back came that previously-familiar awkward balance of confidentiality and still trying to be personable. It blew my mind to reminisce on my Rachael being 11 months old when I first came home to be a stay-at-home mom. Abi was still a hopeful idea as we knew little about her, but her strong kicks. That feeling of being on the brink of a world-flipping and yet still trying to keep your job and life in line. The hours of caring for others' children in therapy and group therapy sessions while wishing to just get the privilege of only taking care of my own. Oh the days of having a split heart - one desire to help others while that ache of someone else caring for my responsibility - my baby. And my client's sweet, smiling face. So funny the memories of encouraging my client's and client's family's pursuit of Christ, while trying not to lose my job in the secular world. It all came flooding back in that odd moment when the past met the present for a few minutes.
I was reminded that life is so short and so worth priority changes.


A dear member of our church suddenly passed away in a tragic plane crash yesterday. Matt had the hard job of accompaning Pastor out of the newly widow's house to share the news and help the widow call her children. In one instance an always-willing Bible teacher, father of three girls, husband of 51 years, and fellow runner after Jesus went to meet Christ face to face. Like Pastor said last night to his awaiting Bible Study class, "His faith became sight." It still feels surreal to me. I expect to see him on Sunday, him passing his Christ-honoring encouragement out to all he encounters. I still expect to see him in the church hallway, sharing about the utter joy he has for a new thing God taught him during his quiet time in the Word. We're all a bit shaken up. David Cowherd will be missed so much. And yet something in the back of my mind makes me smile, a sad hurt smile, but a deep smile nonetheless that after countless years of pouring himself over the Word, soaking in all that the Word projects about Jesus, and spending countless amount of time in conversation with others -seeking Jesus in all ways, our dear brother, David's face must have been a sight to see when he opened his eyes and saw... Jesus!...



Today just feels like a quiet day. A day of thanks for how far God has brought me, but also just a day to struggle to find words. A day to close my eyes and find silence. So many lessons He brings to mind. So many unanswered questions. And yet such hope that He has set before us.

Life can be so short. How will we be remembered? What difference will we make? What Kingdom work will we do?

That more would be left than our possessions.

That Christ would be lifted higher.



- A crown to lay at His feet. -

Outside

The spurts of beautiful weather stampedes my little clan outdoors. Oh how we long for the fresh air, wind in our hair, and freedom to RUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNN!!!

So here's a taste of our adventures outdoors.

Enjoying the ride.


Our lucky tag-along choosing to push the baby.


Daddy's helper walking Dakota.


Feeding the ducks.


Gotta love some fun with the cousins:

Bekka (3 yrs)


John (2 yrs)


And Josiah (10 mths)


Josiah doing what he does best - being cute.

Tunnel slides


the favorite... swings (esp. with Daddy pushing)


Oh the joys of the G-Force


can you tell they're her favorite?



And when it's all said and done and we're headed back:

this happens.
(She calls it, "Daddy snuggle me.")



And this one has been like this for the whole time. hehe.

O how we LOVE the glorious outdoors!

Gratitude

To those who take the extra time

And go the extra mile

to be with her - right where she is.

Thank you.

It means the world.

My Bitty Biter

Proof of my bitty biter. (Click to look close)


Playing just wears you out.


Accomplishment in pulling to your knees.


But sometimes you get stuck and need someone to bail you out.



Oh my sweet little Abi! How I love you!

A Bit O' Earth

So going along with the Secret Garden theme, I've come to the dreaded duty of weeding the front planter boxes. To give you a bit of perspective, all along the front of our house are three large planter boxes. Now "the front" of our house is really the entire length of our house, the door is in the middle of our home, and some brilliant landscaper decided to plant a total of 13 or 14 bushes, all of which lie in beautiful planter boxes - and require pruning naturally. My planter boxes are 3-4 feet in width at some sections and the small bushes are planted in the middle of the boxes - allowing weeding on both the front and back sides of the bushes. While these bushes are a bit cute, when I forget about the weeding, this non-gardening Mama dislikes - a lot - the never-ending prickly weeds that flock to bush-country. Maybe I'm just such a good gardener that everything wants to grow in my dirt? (Coughs).

So this morning the girls took a nap at the same time - mark this day down in history - and I could put them both down in the morning because I don't have Lexi today (whom I pick up from school in the morning) due to this weekend's illness pandemic in our household. [We have a Dr. appointment for Rachael this afternoon.] And in the art of self-sacrifice, I decided to be my own Mistress Mary and try to find delight in weeding the last HUGE flower bed. So, no joke, it took me about 45 minutes to clear away a three feet long section out of the twelve or thirteen foot long flowerbed. I nearly filled an entire huge trash bag of weeds.

And all I have to say after my experience is:


Bad Eve... no apple!



- Seriously, I enjoyed the prayer time and quiet amid the work. Maybe a gardener is growing in me yet? And maybe this too shall pass. hehe. =)

"Mommy read book?"

"Mommy read book?" she pleas as the climbs in bed to snuggle up for a nap. When Rachael was 11 months old, we made the family choice for me to become a stay-at-home mom. Abi, whom we had yet to know to be Abi, was on the way and my heart overflowed with the prospect of being there fully to raise our kids. I rearranged the kitchen, did some serious housecleaning to kick off the week and began a new tradition, reading before nap time.

I remember my mom reading the Lord of the Ring's series to us before bed, my sister and I fighting to stay awake longer to hear "just one more chapter." We were elementary aged and past the "little kid book" age. But I found such a joy in the stories coming to life in our minds - no need for pictures, we were each writing our own movie as the text filled our imaginations.

I began the Anne of Green Gables series when Rachael was 11 months old. I still remember the joy of feeling her little body drift into sleep amid turning the pages and rocking. And it's so precious to me to think that ever since Abi could hear from the womb she has drifted to sleep amid a story. I remember feeling Abi get heavier inside me as she neared her ripeness toward the end of Rachael's lap-rocking days. When Abi joined us on this side of the womb, Rachael would fall asleep in her bed and I would rock Abi while sifting through the Chronicles of Narnia series and a Karen Kingsbury novel (yes, Matt finally convinced me). There's something beautiful about knowing your kids are falling asleep to the soothing pattern and rhythm of your voice. And here we are today, with the Secret Garden.

Today we met Colin for the first time and a flood of a high school musical emerged in my mind. I love how a good book captures you as the scene is painted in your mind. But the scene coming to my mind was literally painted on sliding set pieces. I remembered try-outs with my sister, one of the first things I remember coming together to accomplish (due to high school falling at such a "sisters are uncool" age). My sister, an ever-so-old Junior, and then there was me, a little scared Freshman. My sister had the part of Lily in the bag, literally just waiting for the formalities of try-outs. But the part of Colin was up for grabs among all my friends. Whoever got the role of Colin would be immediately excommunicated from the group as the rest would probably be listed amongst the long list of "chorus" (hehe). My sis jumped into action, practicing and practicing with me. I remember thinking, "WOW! She knows me outside of the house too?!" (love ya, Jes.)

And then the call-backs list and the final posting sealed it all. I had my first lead in a musical, playing my sister's son. There was much make-up, ace bandages to make the illusion of a boy's chest appear, and a wig that took nearly 2 hours to put on my head (tucking my long hair beneath). But something magical came from singing "Come to my Garden" with my sister. I will never forget the excitement rush of hearing her beautiful voice cut through the fog (fog machined in) and pierce through the silence of the room. It was a moment. A moment indeed. And then that bridge... "I shall see you in my garden..." those tight harmonies. It was so neat. The show took on a life of it's own.

The lady on the recording has NOTHING on my sister. You should see Daddy's recording. =) But I do remember practicing to this version with my sister as we prepared for try-outs. It was just lovely. Lovely indeed.


Some pieces of the experiences God has given me are hard to convey. Rachael and Abi may never know the feeling of standing, or in my case laying on a bed (I was a crippled boy), and knowing that an audience of some hundred(s) of people are watching and yet feeling like no one else is there, but whomever is on stage. I hope Rachael and Abi get the chance to lose themselves in a musical number (not as in become loose morally here people). Just so much fun. So shaping and altering.

Funny how God has used some small-town moments to build up this stage-fright child within me. hehe.


Anyway... back to house chores.

- looking forward to tomorrow's nap-time reading.

So Much Bigger and Closer

Sometimes a walk down memory lane is filled with beautiful, white-picket fenced pictures. Other times lessons learned come to mind. And sometimes there's those 'remember when's that create a solemn and quiet moment in your heart.

I recently set up my old college computer to provide a space of childhood computer game playing. Funny to introduce the kindergartner I watch to packman - as if packman is something historic of the past. When booting up the old junker, curiosity led me to the old picture files. Funny to laugh through silly worship band pictures. But one file brought back a whole world of thoughts. It's title? New Orleans Mission Trip 2006.

We come to crossroads in our life. The road to heroism and the road to normalcy. And sometimes the two interchange and weave amongst each other. But every once in a while on down the road there comes a hill. And after the hill's climb you begin to see more values: greater value in rest, greater value in good hiking shoes, greater value in water, and even a greater value in life. And then all at once the horizon hits you from the top of that hill.

New Orleans brought back that feeling. The old war-zone looking pictures of displaced houses, demolished neighborhoods, and the eerie quiet that filled the air. No birds. No crickets. Nothing.

Work abounded on the trip. Filled with gutting flooded houses, stripping down walls and bleaching studs. All in the efforts to rebuild. All in the efforts to start again. In most cases we didn't meet the neighbors - those that were coming back for the wreckage. We just did our work. Did our part. Tried to leave behind a foundation that someone else could value again.

The images. The feelings. The poor world feeling so much bigger and yet so much closer than before. It all came flooding back as I flipped through the pictures, my mind adding a few not captured on film.

inside

clean-up begins

tearing down walls

removing glass from windowsill

pressure washing/bleaching molded studs

searching for valuables

the final product - a gutted house

Sometimes a walk down memory lane is filled with beautiful, white-picket fenced pictures. Other times lessons learned come to mind. And sometimes there's those 'remember when's that create a solemn and quiet moment in your heart.


- my heart goes out to Japan right now -

To The Anonymous - - You Matter

If there's one thing I've learned about being a stay-at-home mom of little kids, it's that you need a lot of support. It's a blessing to have a friend to talk to when you just need an adult voice. There are times the last thing you want to do is wipe another boogie nose, but knowing girl's night out is around the corner helps you press on. There are times you just want to take a drive in the car, without having to listen to 20 questions from the back seat. And while stay-at-home moms can seem like anonymous people , operating on a completely different day-shift than the rest of the world's 9-5, you know that you matter to the Savior.

But I've found a new level of anonymity. You moms have probably experienced it. It's the circumstance where you visit a friend, neighbor, extended relative, or acquaintance and the only one that matters in the room is .... the baby on your hip.

Have you ever felt that?

You're not even acknowledged. The baby receives the engagement, the patting, maybe is even taken from your hip and not one word is said to you. It's like you don't even exist.

Most days it doesn't bother me. I kind of enjoy staying out of the floodlights. But deep down inside a small part of me wonders why if I matter so much then why not even a word was said to me.

I've had this happen twice to me this past weekend. not a word was said to me in the hour+ that I spent with this person. All the interaction was with my children and my husband. It's as if a world around me existed and I was merely there for functionality.

I'm not posting about this as a passive-aggressive way of getting back at that person. This has nothing to do with that kind of a shallow act. I just wanted to post about this feeling for all those moms out there that are put in similar situations. All those moms out there (whom most will never have heard of or ever read these words) who just want a friend to look them in the eyes and say, "you matter. Even if you have some undetectable sticky thing in your hair."

"You matter to me even if you are thinking about how you wish you had time for a shower this morning. Even if you're wondering if you'll ever lose the baby weight. Even if your thoughts are on desiring a moment of quiet time once the kids go to bed. Even if the last thing on your list is to uphold some intellectual conversation because you just want someone to be with you without requiring something from you. You matter. Because you are you."

And it's in those moments that I hope and pray you hear your Savior whisper those truths to your heart.


Dear anonymous Mom out there,

You Matter to Me.

- Jesus.



He is all-sustaining.

Nightmare?

Rachael was crying on the baby monitor and I went in to her. I asked her what was wrong. After a few minutes she said, "I was sleeping. Alligator get my hand and I say ouch. I wake up and I cryin'."

Sounds like the kid explained her nightmare quite well.

Quite the imagination.

Too bad it bit her. =)

I wanna be a part of it...

So there's a part of me that is a traveler at heart. You see those gorgeous landscapes and something inside says, "Beam me up Scotti!" And there's something attractive about the city. No it's not the pollution, crazy traffic, violence or foul language that stirs that little place in my heart (surprising?). It's the glamorized tourist inside me that says, "Maybe some day..."

O the fun of traveling about in a confused tourist bubble, hoping you don't stand out too bad. I guess in my traveler's heart I never really care to look like a native. I just want to see the tall buildings, taste the cut little Mom and Pop shop bagels, and take a picture of the monument nearby. Just enjoy the simple things in the world of reading signs and learning new stuff.

And while the gorgeous sandy beach with the crystal clear water sounds so amazing and looks exquisite in those panoramic shots the fact is that Matt and I burn quite easily so the sunblock expense alone is enough for us to look around for a nearby city. Hehe. Maybe I'm a city girl at heart? Eh, I'm not so sure. Don't think that the over-stressed pressure of being in a non-sleeping place is all that desirable - especially for this Mom who hopes to sleep through the night on a regular basis when, say, the kids move out to college. But walking about in a city during the day, riding the subway, checking out all the cute little shops as you walk by their front windows...

There's a little shopping center around the Dayton area called 'The Greene.' It's a high-end outdoor mall that's designed to look like 3 or 4 city blocks. The perfectly swept roads, charity-only parking meters, cute little store fronts, wind whipping around the building corners, and a little 'fountain square' type meeting point make this little shopping area a cute little city in itself. Maybe I'm in love with those Frank Sinatra-ish movie era cities. A Roman Holiday. Breakfast at Tiffany's.

But whatever it is a little part of me thinks of vacationing in a city and then returning to "the quiet life" in our little suburb home.

White picket fence? Having my cake and eating it too?

You better believe it.


Alrighty, back to the real world. =)

To homeschool or to don't (er somethin')

Been thinking and researching a bit about homeschooling. Yes, I'm one of those nuts who thinks about staying with her kids 24/7 at the expense of her inner sanity and outer beauty (is it just me or do kids seem to have an affect on your outer beauty?).

A few homeschooling pros:

1. You know what they're learning (important as public curriculum has taken some interesting shifts)
2. You have some control over what they're learning (unless they're learning your bad habits).
3. Child has the opportunity to see the parent as a life teacher and not just a lame-o.
4. Cuts down on inappropriate (yet semi-functional for crowd control alone) bullying, teasing and competition. ("I'm bigger than you are, dork sister, cuz you're only a mere kindergartner!")

And a few cons:

1. You can't get away from your kids (Is that a problem? - rips out half a head of hair)
2. You are the teacher (please, no spitballs) so if you don't prepare - no one else is your backup.
3. Your weak subject is your kid's weak subject (Oh Matthew, the Math you would be teaching to our kids).
4. Social functioning needs to be higher than the "weird kids" out there. (Unless your kids are the weird ones. Then it needs to just be higher. -- being silly here.)
5. The constant fear of "is this enough so they'll be considered passing?"

Now don't you worry yourself. Just because I listed more cons than pros doesn't mean there are more cons than pros... I hope (wink).

Just word-vomiting about homeschooling thoughts.


[the giant hook comes out and rips her from the stage.]


Your thoughts?

Paradise

Returned from our two day rendez-vous in Louisville to the normal. Funny how much I've found enjoyment in the normalcy. The hotel stay was great; Matt at the Youth Advisory Board meeting on Tuesday from 8a-4p with a few breaks and the girls and I with no schedule, hanging out in the hotel room, going for a walk in the beautiful weather and enjoy the Seminary campus recreation center. Tuesday night, after the meeting ended, Matt and I enjoyed a little dinner and swimming with the girls - AKA sitting in one foot of baby pool water while Rachael ran in circles and Abi splashed. We looked foolish, but it was so much fun just to laugh and play childish games and be in the moment with our kids. No pride. Wednesday, we took the girls park-hoping to a few really fun parks with great slides, swings, ride-on bouncers, and a merry-go-round. Parks plus a wonderful walk alongside the Louisville riverfront and with full lunch bellies we spent the girls' naptime traveling back home.

Once stepping into the house it was funny how the normal hit us: dog barking, cat zipping about, laundry piles, toy explosions, dishes overload, etc.

And I just had to laugh this morning; 6:55am wake-up call - both Rachael and Abi in sync, nursing the baby while cuddling a not-quite-awake toddler, discovery of no toilet paper, 7am phone call with Goga (my mom) in which Rachael got it into her head that we were going to eat cinnamon rolls, improved cinnamon rolls from crescent rolls while rescuing my hair-tie from the cat, attacking Daddy at 8am as his sleeping in comes to a screeching halt (I couldn't help it!), playing in Mommy and Daddy's bed with Rachael's additions: thrown about foam puzzle pieces and a play cordless phone - on which Matt talked to 'Aunt Jes' about her making him snicker doodle cookies. hehe., Matt jolting out of bed and running for the oven at the realization that the kitchen timer had been going off for a while, sawing cinnamon rolls off the ungreased cookie sheet (promise I followed the ungreased directions) while rescuing another hair-tie and handing the baby salad tongs to pacify, joking and tickling with Matt, serving the toddler while Pounce lives up to his name in stalking and attacking my pajama pant legs. Listening to Rachael's rendition of "Jesus Loves Dakota" sung to our dog with an interlude of pleading for more applesauce, while feeding the baby oatmeal-apples-green beans - buttering, jellying and eating my breakfast between baby spoonfuls. Matt emerging from showering bliss in just enough time to grab breakfast, wash toddler hands, put in her requested Praise Baby movie, and grab a kiss on the way to the office. And as I sit here typing these words with two fingers the above song goes through my head, baby asleep in my arms - just realized the missed dried baby food on her nose, with cat attempting to find space on my lap - sitting on the baby- while in a purry mood. I'm telling you, people, there's no place I'd rather be.. oooo just another day in paradise.

-loving my circus! =)