lessons

It’s A Colorful One

/ amylynw / Leave a comment

When trampolines come back into daily play, and the fridge once again empties without notice, it is a sure sign everyone is well again.  I am so thankful! DSC_8433-001

DSC_8441-001
I’m not sure everyone else is glad to be back into full-time schoolwork again, but they’ve been doing well.  It’s fun to catch them having fun while doing school. DSC_8640-001
Last Sunday we spent the day with Matt’s family.  The kids were well-entertained (maybe a bit too much so) with ginormous lollipops from a friend’s wedding.  After much licking, Elsie stuck out her tongue and said, Dad, look at my tongue!  It’s a colorful one, isn’t it?
 April 2013 DSC_8746-001
Tucked inside my week are always many excitements, unplanned occurrences, etc.  One such event involved smelling smoke from upstairs.  My internal Mommy smoke-detector went off and I ran downstairs to investigate.  An unnamed culprit had burned some papers inside the recycling bin.  Rightly scared, they took it outside to extinguish it better without further smokeage.  Fortunately no harm was done.  Unfortunately for them, Mom’s nose never lies.

We have hit the “When-it-gets-quiet-you’d-better-go-check” stage again.  This time it is with little Betty.  Powder all over her room.  Markers all over her body.  Oats all over the floor.  Scissors in hand.  It’s all or nothing, baby.  She wears her little pink flip flops backwards.  She works hard in the garden.  In addition to the messes and disasters throughout each day, another thing is for certain: at night, all is at rest, they are still, and we relish the gift of sleep.  The only thing they’re chasing are their dreams.

March 20135
The roller skates have come out in full force along with the crocuses and tulips.
DSC_8768-001
It’s hard to believe this little guy will be seven years old in three days!
DSC_8789-001

DSC_8805-001

DSC_8846-001

 

Sometimes when the snot is running, the tempers are ranting, the fridge is emptying, and the feet are stomping, I forget to breath.  Yet when those little arms squeeze my neck and those eyes look up at me with a grin, the snot and mess fades away.  In the really challenging moments, they need love.  Sometimes love is jumping on the trampoline until your hair stands on end.  Sometimes it looks like pancakes made from scratch.  Sometimes it means lying next to them way past their bedtime and reading one more book.  Sometimes it’s a sticky lollipop… a really big colorful one.

DSC_8939-001

The Dog Days Are Over

/ amylynw / Leave a comment

Too bad those days are over,  Jack remarked to me, after remembering how Betty used to crawl.One thing is for certain: it is not too bad the sick days are coming to a close.  This week, all I felt like I did was put straws of liquid into my children’s mouths and wash soiled laundry.  But that meant no one died of dehydration (which happens every day around the world) and no one had to sleep in their own waste (which also happens every day around the world).  What a privilege to give my children that gift.

DSC_8406-001 DSC_8407-001

DSC_8398-001
Some of the first ones to get well.

Now, unfortunately, Matthew is plagued by the B-U-G and has had seventeen hours of sleep today so far.

Even though I experienced only 5 days of quarantine, I got a real taste of separation.  Away from society, fun, and spontaneity, I felt really cut off from life.

It reminded me of a story.  Every day, we sing a little song with Betty called “Ten Men”.  It tells the story of  ten lepers whom Jesus healed.  They all got excited, and they all ran away!  [we dance our hands around and then hide them behind our back]  Except for one man… [we hold up our pointer finger]  HE came back and said, “Thank you, thank you, Jesus.”  I felt a teeny tiny bit like those lepers may have felt.  Blocked from society, unclean, everyone keeping their distance.  It’s rough!  I can’t imagine what it must have been like for years and years to be in such isolated loneliness.

It’s so interesting that Jesus heals all ten, even though only one was grateful to Him about it.  I would guess they felt grateful, but they didn’t glorify God or even thank Him for healing them.  We’re like that a lot.  The percentage of things we thank God for probably equals the ten percent of lepers that thanked Him for their healing.  Every day He does miracles and wonders without any thanks from us to Him.

We might not suffer from leprosy of the skin, but we all suffer from what God calls leprosy of the heart.  Another word for it is sin.  It’s incurable without His touch.  It separates us from God’s love, God’s forgiveness, and His abundant life.  It’s lonely business being sick.  Yet we’re fooled into thinking that the loneliness we feel deep inside our gut is a lack of something we can do to fill.  A lie is whispered into every heart that beats: This [fill in the blank] will satisfy your loneliness.  But we don’t realize the very One we’re separated from, is the One for whom we’re longing.  We’re bombarded with noise and temporary satisfaction every single day.  It’s so loud, we can’t hear the feet of Jesus walking past us, waiting for us to cry out to Him.  See, He made Himself available to those men…  He came and preached peace to you who were far off.  They were distant, knew their condition, and cried out for mercy.  But now in Christ Jesus, you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ.

It wasn’t anything they did.  For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.  When the one leper turned around, he fell on his face before Jesus and thanked Him.

That’s all it takes to go from being a leper to being whole.  From loneliness to complete satisfaction.  From sinner to saint.  From eternal death to eternal life.  One thing is for certain: when we finally see Jesus face to face, we will never say about our time here on earth: Too bad those days are over.

DSC_8521-001

[Bible excerpts are found in Ephesians chapter 2]

God’s Holy Equation

/ amylynw / Leave a comment

The icy air seeps through my gloves which clutch the steering wheel.  I mutter under my breath as I pull the wheel with every muscle fiber in my upper body, just to get out of the parking space.  The inside of his truck reeks of glue and wood and stain.  The darkness of the evening hides what I know is everywhere: dust & dirt from a working man’s truck.  The stick shift comes naturally, but every change of gear is a bit precarious because of everything I’m trying to balance on my short drive.  A big red plate of cookies, half-way fitting on the dashboard, slides as I make my first left turn.  Instinctively I grab it with my right, still making the hard left turn up-hill.  I quickly remember that it is a two-handed job to turn this beast, and I shove the plate onto my lap before it’s too late.  Again, I grumble at the hardship.  My arms burn from making one left turn.  I sit and think about him.

The icy feeling is in my heart too, you know, not just my fingers and toes.  This gift called marriage is work, they told us.  Eleven years ago I wasn’t sure I believed them.  How can something so amazing, so right, and so beautiful take work?  Doesn’t it come naturally?  Don’t the feelings just fall into place?  You know the answer, as sure as my arms were burning.

Sometimes the drifting is over days or weeks or months.  Other times it’s from one hour to the next.  Suddenly he’s there and I’m stuck over here and there’s a bridge somewhere but I’m too tired to find it.  I clutch the steering wheel harder, hoping my fingers will get warmer.  There’s no heat in this thing, and I keep the bad words from coming out of my mouth.

It seems impossible  not to let my feelings match up with the cold.  Like a game of memory, I flip them both over and stack them up beside me.  Inside me.  I turn them over again and again.  Before the stack gets any higher, I arrive at my destination.

Warmth overwhelms me.  Physical, yes, but it reaches into my soul.  Friends, sisters, they are changing the game.  I keep flipping over matches, but they’re the opposite of what I’ve been seeing.  Love coupled with warmth.  Another toasty card is matched up with care, then listening ears, then more love.   The unity and power of love can not be squelched.  The chill is dissipating from my soul.  My heart beats faster for him.

As I walk back to the dusty, rusty truck, I’m jolted back into winter from the brief oasis of warmth I’ve experienced.  Yet something has changed.  Love changes us.  It certainly trumps this eery, distant feeling that’s etched itself all over my heart.  I quit the game of selfishness and throw my towel at the frigid feelings trying to squelch my desire.  Once home, I crawl into our cozy bed and pray over his sleeping warm body.  Then as if from God Himself, the bridge we needed but couldn’t see from cold and selfish hearts, opens up between us.  The gap is closed.   God’s holy equation of two equaling one, melts my chill hard heart into worship.

DSC_2642

Falling in With Joy

/ amylynw / Leave a comment

Have you ever fallen into something terrible?  Generally speaking, I don’t tend to fall into pits or deep crevices, but I do sometimes fall into trials.  James said this would happen if you’re a Christ-follower.  We don’t go looking for trials.  We don’t try to get ourselves into trouble.  We fall into it.  Like last Sunday night: I never saw it coming.

Now we have a choice once we’ve fallen in.  Consider anger.  What does this benefit?  Bitterness toward God starts to grow.  Mistrust in His ways and character.  Consider depression.  Where would that lead?  A despondent spirit, full of myself, my feelings, my pity.  The third option is what James tells us to do when we’ve gone in deep.

Consider joy.  Not just a dash of joy, either.  All joy.  Pure joy.  Nothing but joy.  Opportunity for great joy.  Full of joy.  Sheer joy.  Exceeding joy.  We’re fortunate.  We should be happy.  Trials are  occasions for joy.  

Wow.  Unlike the other non-benefits to responding otherwise, choosing joy brings a great reward. The testing of our faith produces patience, which leads to perfection, or complete maturity.  Basically, we grow up when we go through trials.  Our endurance has a chance to grow.  We’re told by James to let it grow.  Don’t hinder endurance muscles by plopping down on the couch and yelling, “Why?  Why?”  Another version says, Learn well to wait so you will be strong and complete and in need of nothing.

This week has been a steady dose of waiting.  Plenty of opportunity to learn well.  You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.

Matthew’s leg continues to heal slowly.  It’s a stubborn infection, needing much rest.  For my many-mile-loving-hard-working-only-stopping-to-sleep kind of guy, this has been a huge faith and endurance test.  I think running one-hundred miles was easier for him than lying down all day has been.  Just like when you’ve been lifting weights for a while and someone looks at you, tilts their head and says, “You look stronger!” I can see faith muscles starting to show.  Let it grow.  Medical or otherwise, trials are just plain hard.  That is why we don’t go looking for them.  We fall into them, and yet we’re not alone.  As Isaiah 33:6 says, He is your constant source of stability; He abundantly provides safety and great wisdom; He gives all this to those who fear Him.

Image

ER Date

/ amylynw / 2 Comments

Please, God, just let us stay at home tonight, I kept praying.  Matthew went to bed at 8 o’clock, looking feverish and limping into bed.  A two-week-old gash on his leg changed from a sore that looked like it was healing, to an angry, swollen, sore leg.  Infection was swiftly making its home in his blood, taking up residence where it has no right to belong.  So, here we sit in Hallway Bed A.  Emergencies all around us, requiring us to take a hallway bed.

Thank you, Lord for his leg.  In a different century, that might not be.

We see how frail our bodies are.  How quickly a small trip up can lead to more serious consequences.  It was just a wooden box.  It was just a little wound.   How can it wreak such havoc?  One thing leads to another.

We see people we know.  A friend of theirs rushed here by ambulance because of an overdose.  One choice ravages a life.  One thing leads to another.

The red creeps past the black marker.

………………………………………………………………….

It’s been awhile now.  Antibiotics are surging into his bloodstream.  Picking a fight with the nasty bad guys we can’t see.  The red stops creeping.

Fear collides with peace.  We will keep our eyes on You.  

Going home for the rest of the night.  We’ve had fun on our ER date.  It’s been awhile since we had one of those.  Prayers all over the globe were answered on our behalf in a lavished-on grace-full way.  Home tonight.  We eat popcorn in our bed, fully aware that God is good.

We will keep our eyes on You.

My Weeping Shadow

/ amylynw / Leave a comment

Every night I look back on my day and wonder at a few of the things I did or did not do.  When all is quiet, it’s hard to truly remember how very trying all the noise really was.  When there are no more voices calling my name, I wonder why I was so irritated at that hundredth call for mommy.  I know there was constant activity all around me all day long, because of the evidence.  An apple core hidden here.  A stuffed animal under the table.  Loads of dishes scrubbed and ready for more carnage tomorrow.  Baskets of folded clothes, indicating they were once mounds of laundry.  The ever-emptying refrigerator.  Not to mention everything in my dustpan at the end of the day.

This morning started off with about a quarter cup of cereal.  Since that doesn’t divide between five children so well, I used some leftover bread dough for a monkey bread breakfast.  Served on my Italy plate, it was a splendid start to our day.  Then all of a sudden all I could think about was how long everyone’s hair was, and we had haircuts all around.  The boys got spiffed up, and Betty lost her baby mullet.  She did a great job, and her whole face looks older.  It matches her just-about-two personality.

Today I called her my weeping shadow.  After the morning cheer, she laid down great for her nap… except she never fell asleep.  A poopy diaper later, and she was not doing the whole nap thing today.  So we battled through many tear-filled moments.  She had her first time-out yesterday.  She is experiencing the “try one bite” at supper ordeal.  She understands every single thing we say, and is sprouting like a little seed in a jar of water.  Between my weepy shadow who couldn’t leave my side, math, geography, and everything else required of us today… supper ended up a last-minute outing where the kids were so enthralled with their surroundings that they didn’t eat.  Then we went to Matthew’s exercise class, and by the time we got home at 8 o’clock, my bearded husband was whipping out the pancake recipe for a late-night-second-supper.  The full moon was wreaking havoc on everyone’s ability to settle down anyway, so why not enjoy a few chocolate-chip pancakes before bed?  We did just that.  Betty relaxed her sweet chubby feet on my warmed up rice bag, and everyone ate their fill.


 I’m thankful for my messy life.  For the hair which shows growth.  Our daily bread, especially cinnamon and sugar-covered bread.  The beauty of a full moon.  Tears to show a heart alive, filled with emotion and the ability to feel.  I’m thankful for strength to do more than I feel physically able to do sometimes.  For creativity to color the mundane.  For chattering which makes silence more precious.  For grace upon grace upon grace.  For little shadows that need me to scoop them up and feel cherished as they are.

World’s Toughest Mudder Experience

/ amylynw / Leave a comment

Our tendency is to shy away from pain and discomfort.  This weekend I came face to face with over a thousand people who thought otherwise.  My husband was one of them.  Matthew competed in the World’s Toughest Mudder in New Jersey.  Nadine and I went to support and cheer him on.  If I could recap everything in a couple of words, I would choose: Muddy, Cold, and Stinking Hard.  Willingly, they began a 24-hour race stretching 10 miles, dotted with 32 obstacles.  The goal: get through as many laps as you could in 24-hours.  It started out as quite fun.  Beautiful weather, warm gloves, french fries and treats made our spectator spot quite appealing.

Some friends sent us off with a package of treats which we enjoyed immensely   Another friend mailed me a package with 24 gifts to open at each hour.  We lined them up on the dashboard of our van, and I took a picture of most of them, but once it got dark I put my camera away.  I appreciated the toothbrush and toothpaste for when my mouth got “woolly”, and the glow sticks at 9pm were a great hit.  The handwarmers at midnight were a lifesaver!  Books to pass the time, and other gifts to simply make me smile and take my mind off the shivers.  Thank you! 
Matthew’s “tent” site, without a tent.  Simply a blanket, chair and box of ice-tea and food… everything that wasn’t consumed was frozen solid by night.


My wonderful daughter who kept me company and helped my spirit tremendously throughout the day.

Coming off Everest.  One side they slid down, then on the other side of the lap they had to scale it again.
Our favorite guy.

Once the sun started dipping over the horizon, however, things took quite a different turn.  The temperature dropped so low that everything wet started to freeze.  That basically meant every single surface, since there was mud and water everywhere.  My boots no longer kept my feet warm, and I wondered at the wet sneakers of each runner, and how their toes weren’t falling off.  I won’t give you a breakdown of every hour, but between the hours of 10pm and 1am, I was at my lowest.   The hat and gloves Matthew was wearing didn’t fit him correctly, so he had taken them off,  which later made matters worse.  His hands were so cold.  This was in the back of my mind while Nadine and I warmed ourselves in the van.  She eventually fell asleep and I set off to try to find Matthew since we had lost contact with him for 3 hours.   At midnight I walked the now familiar mile to the 29th obstacle, to see if I could find him.  I did.  He was the best muddy sight I have ever seen.  Holding back my tears, and while my feet froze in my dry boots, I watched him go through icy cold water and then through some electroshock “therapy”.  We walked the last frigid mile together.  When we split up, he told me he would see if he could warm his hands and feet.  I went to our van to close my eyes for a bit, and the next thing I knew, he was knocking on the window, bags in hand.  His body felt physically able to continue, but the cold dominated.  He completed 40 miles total.

I’m so incredibly proud of his determination, his courage to face very difficult situations, his stamina, and his wisdom to know when enough is enough.  I’m so thankful for the people who rallied around us during this weekend.  I’m so thankful that Matthew didn’t suffer any injuries, and that we were able to grow closer to each other through this experience.

Love Does

/ amylynw / Leave a comment

One of my favorite books is by Bob Goff, called Love Does.  Today my life felt like a chapter in that book.  This morning I woke up to the beeping of my phone and this text from a friend: Dear Weldons, would you like to come spend the day with us?  We will make you a pancake breakfast, we will get your laundry started, and then we’ll get to work on school stuff.  We would love to have you!  I went to bed wondering what the day would hold.  I woke up so incredibly touched by this practical invitation.  Love does.  Today at lunch, at a full table of a dozen children and two mommies, Nadine thanked the Lord that our water was off so we could enjoy the day with our friends!  I’m also thankful that I can run over to another friend’s house and go to the bathroom at any hour.  I’m thankful for the offers of showers and baths.  Sometimes we think about how we could help others, instead of just doing it.  Being on the receiving end of love in action is incredible, but not even as much as being on the giving end.  He who refreshes others will himself be refreshed.  Prov. 11:25  Getting outside our comfort zone is awkward sometimes.  It might involve having some un-bathed family raid your house and cupboards.  It might not even be that dramatic.  But when we love practically and specifically, we bless in eternal measures.  Pressed down, shaken together, running over kind of blessings.

Seventy-Four Miles

/ amylynw / 1 Comment

Today was seeped in tears and thick emotion.  A let down, I suppose, of the hefty weekend.  My tears were last night.  The kids’ were today.

I really, really hope that people realize that when I admit to feeling sad, frustrated, disappointed, etc. (normal human emotions) this does not equate that I hate my life, my circumstances, nor wish things upon myself that can not be.  I truly love my life.  But I am not always happy, cheerful, well-groomed (stop by today and you’ll see!), nor eager.  This weekend tested my every last bit of endurance.  As I hugged Matthew last night, though, I was sincere as I whispered, “I would do it again tomorrow if I could.”  I love and support my husband and we’re a team.

The race started with an ok sleep the night before (not good, when you’re anticipating being up for the next 24 hours).  The morning unfolded with a leisurely cup of hot tea and yummy breakfast outside Lloyd Hall on Boathouse Row in Philadelphia.  The rain was coming down since 4am, which added an aspect of dreariness and well, dampness..  We really didn’t prepare for rain.  But, at 10AM the shout was given, and the 24-hour race commenced.

Matthew looked good for the first 16 miles before hitting an unexpected early wall.  It took another 16+ miles of climbing to get over it, and finally by the afternoon he was feeling much better.  The rain stopped.  Things looked sunny.  After puddle-running for most of the day, his feet were complete prunes, so he switched shoes and clothes and then kept going.

Around 1AM things got worse when I offered to run with him and couldn’t keep up.  We’ve hashed through this now, so I can write about it.  I truly thought he needed someone with him,  and he didn’t know how to gently say that I would hold him back.  So I ran the 8th loop.  Sort of.  Actually, I had not run 8 miles since his race last year.  It messed with his concentration, as he felt the need to take care of the one who was supposed to be taking care of him.  On the next, the ninth loop, things went from bad to worse.  Two miles from the finish line a biker patrol found him sitting down, and since he was a bit slow to respond, called in to the medics who called in to me.  We met at the medical tent where he was fine, just exhausted.  By the time he had checked out fine with the doc, his mental game was toast and his body just started to shut down.  It’s amazing how far your body can push when your mind is still telling it that it’s fine to keep going.  Once that voice clicks off, the body literally stops.  It believes the words, “I can’t,” unless they’re not uttered.

So, around 4AM, he had run 74 miles and was finished.  It is mind-blowing, really.  I drove 74 miles last week.  The disappointment came from not finishing 100+miles, and stopping before 24-hours.  It was a hard hit for both of us.  I am so proud of him.  We could have let a root of bitterness build up between us.  I could blame myself and so could he, but we both chose to move on, learn, and grow from this experience.  He inspires me and so many others with his determination, drive, and seemingly crazy goals.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Law of Disorder

/ amylynw / Leave a comment

It’s inevitable.  The messes.  The laundry piles.  The law of physics which says that even when things are left perfectly alone, they will eventually deteriorate.  Order must always decrease.  It should be called the law of home-making.  This is a typical laundry day in our house:

That doesn’t include sheets that have been accidentally wet during the night.  Thankfully those sheets and blankets were already on the laundry room floor when I heard Elijah frantically yelling, “Mom!  Mom!  The sink is doing it again!” The sheets were quick to soak up some of the gallons of water rushing out of our small sink in the bathroom, but the flood was pretty extreme.  The plug will sometimes fall into ‘closed’ position and is very difficult to pull back up again.  Unfortunately, the water was left running at the same time.  So… an extra little mopping was done here today.  Ah, entropy.

Speaking of things being left alone… yesterday we had somewhat of a scare.  Again, I heard a rather desperate call for me from upstairs.  Betty was in the bathroom with the door closed (she can do that too) and she had reached the lock with her little hands and locked the door.  The lock is only able to be opened from the outside of the door with a skeleton key, as the doorknobs are those old-fashioned giant diamonds.  I immediately freaked out and called Matthew.  I needed the skeleton key, which both of us saw recently but couldn’t remember where, or a locksmith.  With visions of disaster speeding through my head, I prayed and then did the only reasonable thing I could think of doing quickly: climb onto the roof.  So, out the boys’ bedroom window I crawled, walking carefully to the adjacent bathroom window, the hot slanted rooftop toasty under my sandals.  I pried open the screen of the bathroom window and gave Betty a startle when I called her name.  She was sitting in front of the door, playing with the other kids’ fingers under the door, looking unfazed by the whole ordeal.  I unlocked the door and everyone cheered.  Jack said, “Mom, that was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen you do!”  I really, really hope that I never have to climb out on the roof again.  The kids all had a crash course on why putting Betty in the bathroom is NOT a good idea, and we are on the lookout for our skeleton key in case anything like that happens again.  Thankfully it was such a warm day, so the windows were all open!

My fourth load of wash is on the clothesline, school happened, and we have laughed entropy in the face by all of our vacuuming and putting away.  I’m desperately hoping to do better than cereal for supper tonight.  Cooking is one thing that does not fall into any law of physics.  This is called the second law of home-making: supper, if left completely alone, will not just happen.