Month: January 2012

Monday Crunchies

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Monday.  The day when it feels like every cracker crumb is stuck to the bottom of my slippers as I crunch across my kitchen floor.  The day when school sneaks up and says, “Boo!”and scares me every time.  The day when the contents of my fridge force my creativity to expand to un-natural proportions just to think of something with which to feed my tribe.  The day when an extra cup of tea is in tall order.  I honestly don’t dislike Mondays, mostly because there is nothing too drastically different about them than every other day in the week.  I still cook, clean, change diapers, do laundry, make three meals, sweep dust bunnies, wipe mysterious stickies off the floor, play referee, and plop into bed exhausted.  True, Monday follows our one and only guaranteed family day, which is always a bit of a letdown.  I guess that is why my kitchen floor feels more crunchy than usual and school seems a bit harder than other days.  Today Betty also seemed to turn a corner in her tiny growing-up life.  She has a snotty nose and a sore throat, but there was more to her wee little crying fits than just all that.  They definitely left me swirling a little bit.  I’m bracing myself for a new year, new Betty.


Is there anything cuter than a heart on the bum?  Perhaps, maybe, that heart sneaking away up the stairs in a flash…

I had a lot of girl time this weekend while Matthew took the boys rock-climbing among other things.  It is rare that I catch all three playing so sweetly together.  Nadine was pushing the littles in the clothes basket, which was just as exciting as any boardwalk ride, let me tell you!

 

Betty weighed in a whopping eighteen pounds at  her one-year check-up.  She loves to walk, assisted.   Some of her new tricks include blowing kisses and giving away real-life, sloppy wet smooches on your cheeks.  She climbs the stairs in a jiffy and then lays on her belly at the top and squawks for help to get back down again.


On Saturday when she was starting to get feverish, Nadine rocked her right to sleep while humming “Silent Night”.  It was precious.


Speaking of sleep, this is my favorite part of Monday and every day. Sneaking into the kids’ bedrooms and watching the way sleep transforms their darling faces.  Betty snores and is always in a different position.  Sometimes on her tummy, sometimes her back, sometimes with her feet straight up in  the air on the side of her pack n’ play.  Elijah generally is sprawled out across his bed and can’t be woken up for anything.  Just like his daddy.  Jack is usually curled up into a tight ball, sometimes his entire body underneath the covers.  Just like his mama.  Nadine is almost never asleep before I go to bed, but when the rarity occurs, she is on her back, straight and tall, or half way under her covers and half-way on top of them.  She’s somewhat haphazard when she sleeps.  There is frequently something funny about how Elsie has fallen asleep.  She doesn’t have any one special thing which she likes to sleep with every night.  She almost always is asleep on her back, like a statue, sometimes hands folded across her chest.  The other night, unbeknownst to me, she fell asleep holding a balloon she had received that day.  It is pretty tricky taking pictures in a dark bedroom, but the flash didn’t even make her flinch.


This Monday Matthew got his third out of four infusions.  He’s feeling so much better than three weeks ago, and next week we’ll see where he is in a bit more detail.  When he got home from work, I was sitting on the dirty kitchen floor with Betty on my lap, banging spoons onto a metal bowl.  He knew about my challenges of Monday.  Then he handed me pure gold:  my favoritest tea ever and German chocolate.  Now there is a sweet way to end a Monday.

Two Mothers

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Two mothers.  The first sits up for six nights with her daughter.  Sickness crowds the hospital room, pushing out all feeling of normalcy or cheer.  An unknown sickness plagues the little girl and her mother’s heart is wounded.  Helpless, she sits by her bed and smooths her knotted blonde hair and holds her weak hands.  The girl’s eyes, usually bright, are hollow and full of exhaustion.  The mother’s love is strong.  It keeps her by her side as the hours tick by and the world marches on without stopping.

The second mother lies in bed.  Pillows surround her growing belly.  Boredom crowds out any sense of normalcy and adventure in her life.  Another heart besides her own beats inside of her, and she lies still, day after day.  Her baby’s life is cradled in her womb.  It is like a safe-house inside her body; a body which mysteriously isn’t safe anymore.  The mother’s love is strong.  It keeps her on her side as the hours tick by and world marches on without stopping.

The first mother receives the gift of healing, but life will never be the same.  The second mother must wait for her deliverance, along with the promise that her life will never be the same.

This week, as I observed these two mothers, I was struck with the depth of love they have.  Love which bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.  I am reminded once again how beautiful life is– life made more beautiful by all the waiting, believing, hoping, and enduring.

My Soul is Getting Restless

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At the beginning of this year I wrote down a list of goals for 2012.  Nineteen days later, I finally started one of them.  My fingertips in my left hand are a bit sore as I type and I’ve been transported to many times and places as I strummed my beautiful guitar once again.  I’ve had lots of excuses why I didn’t pick it up and play.  One by one I’ve shot them down, the last excuse being the fact that it only had five very old strings on it.  I was a bit rusty at changing them, but now they are shiny and smooth once again and it felt heavenly to strum after so long.

My guitar was a gift almost twelve years ago.  For my first guitar, I saved my pennies and bought the cheapest one in the showroom.  It served me well, and I learned so much from many people as I took it with me wherever I went.  Fast-forward a couple years to the night before I was leaving to go to Kenya for five months.  Since I was planning on taking my guitar with me to Kenya and only had a soft-shell case I was really hoping to go out and buy a hard-shell case the next day.  That night my church family gave me a farewell dinner and presented me with a hard-shell guitar case.  I was so amazed, but nothing prepared me for what came next.  When they told me to open the case to see if my guitar fit, there lay a beautiful, new guitar.  It was a weighted moment, sort of like when I looked at my babies for the first time, and I’ll never forget it.  Something so gorgeous and unexpected gifted to me.  I’m still humbled.

I remember playing that night in my bedroom with my sister, Sherry and best friend Rebecca (who is now my sister-in-law).  We laughed and sang and Rebecca stuffed secret crumpled up notes into my duffle bag that I found a few days later when I arrived on the other side of the ocean.  I stuck my first bumper sticker on the case that said, “Life is short.  Pray hard.”  It started many conversations from Pennsylvania to Kenya.  I was able to keep the guitar by my side the entire way there as a carry-on bag.


I love music.  I’m tired of thinking I’ll be good at the guitar one day.  I have a lot of ground to make up from disuse.  Then I have a lot of ground to cover that I’ve never crossed before, and I’m excited about it!  Hopefully in a month the pain on my fingertips will be replaced by numbness.  Ten minutes a day.  Anyone want to come jam with me?

Morning Tea and Other Things

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For some reason I woke up way earlier than usual this morning and couldn’t go back to sleep.  My morning routine includes shuffling to the tea kettle, putting some water on to boil and making a nice big mug of hot tea.  I was sad to find all of my good British Blend tea gone this morning.  I had bought some cheap tea this week, knowing I was running low.  I had an open mind, willing myself to find it just as delightful and delicious as my favorite, more pricey kind.  My mind closed up pretty quickly after that first sip.  Oh, well.  There are just some things that I won’t scrimp on, and tea is one of them!  Give me beat up furniture and hand-me-down clothes, but I’ll take good tea, please!  So, with my mediocre cup of tea this morning, and before any more time goes marching into the past, here is our second half of Christmas: Syracuse style.  We dearly missed our North Carolina gang!  Without too many words, here is a snapshot of our short but wonderful weekend:

Chess games, superheroes, carrot-eating boys, silly gifts, meaningful gifts, cute kids, and lots and lots of joy.  We took a wet walk to a nearby park.  My favorite shots include a sneaky behind-the-back-photo of Abby and her mom, and Betty being snuggled by Uncle Beck.  Our usual “sister picture” never happened, but I do have an almost sister picture.  Can you find it?

  This boy was in his glory, surrounded by boy cousins his age, legos, nerf guns, and apple pie.

I’m so thankful for family, and every minute spent together is so special.  We borrowed Matthew’s parents’ “big red van” for the trip, because our van is just super tight for more than a two-hour trip.  The whole time driving, whenever we would hit a bump, it would feel like the roof was about to fly off.  There are other interesting noises it makes as well, so we  weren’t sure if what we heard was legitimate and didn’t think too much about it.  The day we got home from NY, we drove to the Sodies’ house to help demolish their kitchen and repair leak damage.  On the way, we hit the lip of a curb right before entering a small train tunnel.  The bump was so huge that the entire front windshield spider-webbed in an instant.  Everyone was crying, and we made our way the last five minutes to their house.  Thankfully, we were able to get it to a place that day to get fixed.  The entire drive there, I could hear the glass crackling and I was so nervous.  
When Heather & I went to pick it up, the guy told us that it was a good thing the windshield cracked, because it was barely being held onto the roof and something much more serious could have happened at any time.  So, even though it was scary, inconvenient, and not in our plan, God protected us and preserved us from something worse happening down the road.  So thankful!  Also, Matt & I weren’t imagining the sounds that the roof was about to fly off!


Thankful for a great many things this new year.  I am even thankful for my mediocre cup of tea.  It’s hot, and because I woke up so early, I got to spend some time with Matthew before he left for work: a rare treat.  Next on the grocery list: REAL tea.

Highlights of Color and Love

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Last night I was playing through the events of the day and picking out my favorite ones.  One of the highlights of my day definitely was when I was playing the piano with Betty on my lap and she kept laying her head down on the keys.  That is her signature move for love.  In words, if she could speak them, she said, “Mom, I love the piano and I could sit on your lap and listen all day.”  The second highlight came while I was sitting at the piano and turned to see a dear friend standing at my door and hoping to find the tea pot on.  Friends, my tea pot is always on.  It was 2pm and I was still in my PJ’s:  red fleecy pants with valentine hearts, and a green Ocean City sweatshirt.  I looked like Valentine’s-Day-still-clinging-to-Christmas.  It was groovy.  For an instant I felt embarrassed, but that quickly left me when I remembered that real friends step inside your house, no matter how it or you look.  And somehow nothing matters except their presence blessing your home.  It was truly a highlight.

Sometimes I want to jump inside of Jack’s head.  He thinks deep thoughts, but can’t always express them.  Like yesterday when he told me he just can’t wait to get to heaven.  He is pretty sure that God is going to lower a sheet from the sky and haul us all up there.  I just listened as his wiry strong body tried to fit on my lap.  I like to talk about heaven with my kids, because they have such peace about how good it is.  The unknown is fearful and a bit insecure for us.  Often our “knowledge” gets in the way of our faith.

Jack thinks in straight lines.  He thinks a lot like how he laid these cards out on the table the other day.


Methodically.  Carefully.  A bit wildly at times.  Notice the sword at the ready in the backpack?  Have I mentioned before how big his hands are?  They’re almost my size.  Carrots and the color orange rock his world.  Why not turn them into works of art?  Yesterday he did just that:


Yes, he did that with his teeth.

Another highlight of my day was cozying the whole family up in the living room to watch Kung Fu Panda 2.

  I love my kids.  I love that all four of their blankets are from when I was growing up.  I love that Jack’s special Pooh blanket was actually a baby gift for Nadine and that he somehow adopted it for himself.  I love that Elsie has the most ginormous blanket and the littlest bed and that her Aunt Heather had it on her bed before she got married and moved away.  I made Jack’s blanket when I was about 13, my first and only attempt at quilting.  I was going to give it to my brother for Christmas that year, but thought maybe the roses were a little too feminine when it was all said and done.  Sorry, John!  We have never had the whole matching nursery/bedroom ensemble and it’s pretty obvious with the medley of colors hugging the kids in that picture.

Our color scheme is a coordination of memories and love.  That makes me want to do a Betty move and put my head down on each cozy nook in that picture and say, I love you.

Come Away With Me

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I’ve been wanting to write about our amazing Anniversary Weekend, but somehow I find myself collapsed into bed each night, starting another day, then collapsing again.  As refreshing as it was to put a little time lapse on mommy-ing for a couple days, it was sweet to be back at it again on Monday.  The fondness that comes with absence was strong that day for all of us.  The rest of the week has been a bit more like “normal”, and I’ve felt a tad overwhelmed by the constancy of motherhood.  My little baby Betty is officially a one-year-old and woke up one morning acting like one!  She climbs the stairs like it’s her job, and pulls open cupboards and doors, happily exploring anything and everything with her sweet little hands.  She loves to stand on her tippy toes and laugh out-loud. She has the roar of a little lion that can rise to the top of seven voices.  She can then just as quickly be quiet and politely sign for “more please” at meal times, delicately touching her little fingers together with both hands.  Daily, I wonder how such a voice can come out of such a tiny girl.

Our weekend away was water to my parched soul.  After Matt’s mom picked up the kids, we were going to meet at home.  A little accidental locking of his keys in his truck didn’t damper our spirits for a great weekend.  We started with dinner at Bonefish Grill, which was yum times ten.  Then it was off to a mysterious place for dessert.  We pulled into a favorite coffee shop called Burlap & Bean and enjoyed huge mugs of fabulous coffee, dessert, and a live concert by a local artist.  It was Simon & Garfunkle meets the Beetles with a tad bit of original funk to round it all out.  We loved it.

Charlie Philips

The next morning we had breakfast at the Classic Diner, which many friends have told us about.  It was super classy and delicious.  
I loved the mirror in the bathroom!

We took our time meandering before taking a run/jog/walk through Valley Forge.  I regret not wearing my camera around my neck, as akward as it might have been.  The day was breathtakingly beautiful and felt like May, not January.  I almost feel like summer really should be in a few weeks because of the seasonal jet lag that day gave me.  It was glorious.  We jogged, explored iron canons, peeked in the windows of some old houses, and hiked across fields to find shortcuts on the way back.  I felt like I was twenty again, getting to know this cute guy that I hoped I would marry one day… then I basked in the joy that we already were married.  It is heaven to be filled with such love.
My phone was a little less awkward to carry, and shot this fun picture… the only one of the two of us from the weekend.

After Valley Forge, we trekked to the grocery store and enjoyed the indulgence of shopping for one meal in mind.  We went home and cooked and cleaned for our fancy dinner with friends.  I had my camera out and ready to shoot, but never touched it all night long.  Everything from the cheese and olives to the mushroom caps was delightful, but were mere highlights to the main event: friendship.  We basked in the joy of God’s faithfulness in our lives and the lives of each couple with us.

We taped questions underneath each plate which that person had to answer.  I think the question that sticks with me the most is, “What hardship has strengthened your marriage the most?”  As I reflect back on ten years I remember a lot.  The worst and yet best times have been the times when God’s strength was made perfect in our weakness.  Those dark tunnels of financial destitution, spiritual drought, and physical suffering have brought the most blessing.

This week I’ve come face-to-face with one of those past trials.  Though Matthew feels pretty well, it’s obvious the Wegener’s disease is rearing its ugly head again.  His eyes look sick and I think it’s more difficult for me than for him sometimes.  But I know it isn’t easy for him to face this reality again.  On Friday he goes in for his first round of four infusions that will hopefully shock his immune system into doing something else with itself instead of attack his sinuses.  I despise Wegener’s disease and every disease on this earth that reminds us of our imperfection and humanness.  I hate the way disease alters our bodies from how God intended them to be.  Sometimes I’m tired of being strong, which is when I realize that’s a good thing.  I am so very weak, and I feel God’s strength welling up inside of me to carry me through this step.  He gives me enough strength to hold my husband’s hand through sickness and health.  I have faith that God hasn’t changed and He will do great things through this trial.  Thanks for praying!

The First Decade

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The white dress hung on my closet door, its thick satin hem hugging the floor.  The layers of tulle under its skirt made me feel like a princess before I even wore it.  There were no shoes waiting for me to slip on Cinderella-style… I was going African-style, barefoot and fancy-free.  I closed my eyes for the last time as a single woman and woke up ready to marry the man of my dreams.  Ten years ago. I was wrapping flowers in ribbons, and reading over my vows with nervous excitement.  I was so ready to embark on this awesome thing called marriage.  

When the time came to walk down the green carpet that I pretended was grass on my bare feet, my dad had tug my arm back a bit to keep me from running down the aisle towards Matthew.  The ceremony was so beautiful, and so long, and so short, all at once.  Our lips had never touched and I just couldn’t wait to seal our commitment with a kiss never to be forgotten.  His face was so young.  We never know how we will change.  Ten years ago.

We vowed that we would never leave each other until death separated us.  We vowed before God and many witnesses.  We vowed that we would love one another through sickness and health, good times and bad, in rich times and in poor.  We’ve experienced so much in ten years, and we still say “I do”.  

When we fell asleep side by side for the first time, it was the most thrilling thing I have ever experienced.  It is still my favorite thing about being married.  It is pure, holy, and excellent.  The greatest theft from our marriage are those few nights when we have been unable to resolve something before falling asleep, and the closeness of our bed turns from being a blessing into a curse.  The foothold that the devil can steal from under us is so great during those times.  The flip-side is that when we repent and forgive, the depth of ground regained is even greater than that stolen in the first place.  Making up is a beautiful thing.

Ten years of loving, giving, taking, repenting, crying, forgiving, communicating, laughing, babies, toddlers, kids, traveling, trusting, growing, and changing… it has been the best decade of my life.  Matthew, let’s get married again!