This week was full of challenges, beauty, tears and smiles. And lots and lots of ice.
Great cases of cabin fever produce much creativity.
When the lights flickered off on Tuesday morning, I didn’t think too much of it. Our power-less morning meant walking over to our neighbor’s house and warming ourselves by their wood stove. We had two fevered boys chilling on the couch, and our day felt like it was going in slow motion. Not until later on did we realize just how wide-spread of a disaster the ice-storm created. Overnight, our entire area came to a screeching halt. I only pulled out my phone camera this entire week, but my mind holds the incredible beauty in its memory bank. One shot of an evergreen tree, encased in ice:
On Thursday, we ventured outside of our neighborhood and drove a few miles. Instead of typical scenery, we entered a magical, sparkling world. Glass trees, as far as our eyes could see, covered the landscape. I couldn’t stop exclaiming. Looking at the other-world-like richness, it seemed like my soul sang poetry. Words only meant for the Creator of such splendor. Words I have no ability to write. Now I know why crystal is one of God’s choices for Heaven’s decor.
Who knew such beauty could wreak such havoc?
Yet amidst the disaster, more beauty. Fellowship with friends who still lacked electricity. Sharing of warmth and coffee. I know it has been a super-challenging week for many folks. However, it’s been such a blessing to be on the giving end of the stick. Sometimes it can be very difficult for people in this country to allow themselves to be showered with love (or water!) in time of need. We are naturally prideful, and it can be cloaked in the tidy words of: “I don’t want to be a bother”. Let me be very clear on this matter: If I don’t want you to come use my shower or accept a cup of hot coffee, then I would not offer! It was beautiful to see and hear stories of different folks bunking out at other people’s houses, or getting clean in other people’s showers, or doing laundry with other people’s washing machines. We should both be quick to offer our help, and quick to receive it when needed. What heaps of joy for those who are on the giving end!
On Friday, Matthew got scoped again to see what’s going on in the subglottic region of his throat. The doctor was pleased with what he saw: nothing worsening; small improvement; no immediate action needing to be taken. He has two weeks until he sees the ear doctor again to see if he will need a new tube put in the one side that has been infected for a couple of months. Afterwards, we sat down at our new favorite cafe in the city: Le Pain Quotidien. The chocolate banana bread with caramelized bananas: amazing.
Then yesterday, it was determined the length of hairs in this house was out of control. Everyone got their hair cut, including mama. At first, Matthew was going to cut my hair. It soon became clear how very different cutting wood and cutting hair can be. After a few snips and exclamations, which clearly indicated he did not know what he was doing… I grabbed the scissors and got acquainted with the mirror.
Now another fresh inch or two of white has fallen from the sky, and I didn’t even notice at first. Snow is no longer shocking, and I’m slowly making friends with it. Underneath each snow-flake, there is dirt and life and growth. Between cold and foggy breaths, there is great anticipation of spring in the air. Like all promises true, it will come. Be of good courage, and He will strengthen your heart. Wait on the Lord.
encouragement
What My Husband Did Behind My Back
Some days hit you like a blast of cold water being unexpectedly tossed over your head during a hot shower. Usually motherhood is a series of such moments, as startling as a scattering of sharp legos all over a bedroom floor: you know they’re there, but you can never be quite prepared for their sting. Such was Friday. Actually, ever since Tuesday my brain had been thinking it was Friday. When Friday at last arrived for real, I was ready for it to finish its comic series of events. At the time, they were not-so-funny events. 
During nap time, Betty came wandering downstairs to where I stood in the kitchen. She sidled up next to me, smoothed her hair and said with a coy look on her face, Is it perfect, mama? I looked a bit closer, thinking she had wet her hair in the bathroom. Nope. There was no hair to wet. She had given herself a generous haircut, right in front. Perfect wasn’t the first word that came to mind.
A teeny tiny part of her bangs remain after her perfect haircut.
My day just kept getting better. While making dinner, which involved mixing up a batch of pizza dough, I grabbed the garlic powder to put a shake of it into the batter. Obviously, I flipped open the wrong side of the cap, as a huge pile of garlic powder dumped like an avalanche into the wet dough. I quickly scooped out as much garlic powder as I could, muttering under my breath. The next best thing to do: double the batch and enjoy the garlic.
As the evening wore on, small things started to get to me. There was mud where I didn’t want mud. There wasn’t hair where I wanted hair. There was arguing. There were interruptions. I have a spot where I like to hide in my room. If I sink down low enough, no one knows I’m there. Friday they seemed to instinctively find me. Especially the nap-less one. I felt like the mama elephant in the book Five Minutes Peace. Eventually it became clear: There is no avoiding the masses, I thought. It’s time to jump back in the boat. So I stopped hiding and plugged on through the evening, mustering up as much strength as I could.
Despite my resolve to be happy when Matthew got home, he was met with a more wiped-out-than-usual countenance. With much grace, he just hugged me. I started going over the difficulties of my day. He took my head in his hands and said something which really caught my attention. It was as startling as a blinding light shining in my eyes: Aim, the kids have never complained to me about you. I needed to stop doing what they never do to me. After looking at Betty’s hair, he let her know it’s not okay for her to cut her own hair, then he turned to me and said simply, She’s three! Yes, indeed. This will pass. It will grow. She learned. Move on.
My emotions were stabling, but not quite steady. I had one last complaint to offer my unwavering husband. I was feeling a bit vengeful towards the bathroom scale, and did a little “Woe is me” routine. Yes, I have been exercising about twice a month. Yes, I am no longer in my twenties, so that matters now. Still, I wish that scale showed me a little slack. I was going to go to the downstairs bathroom to make sure the toilet was flushed and there was no pee all over the seat before our company arrived. Surely my day was on the upswing.
Matthew went upstairs to get cleaned up from work and I decided to check our email before checking the cleanliness status of the powder room. I was a little shocked at what I saw. Next I checked facebook, and the top news in my feed was this:
Surprise anniversary gift for my wife: registering her for the Philly love run half marathon!!! She doesn’t know yet!! Wait till she checks FB or email! Let the training begin! Giddy with excitement!
Let’s just say, I had to go into the downstairs bathroom to compose myself. I spotted a lime on the laundry room floor before walking back into the kitchen. I picked it up and thought pretty seriously about beaning Matthew with it when I saw him. I’m glad some of our company had just arrived and was standing in the kitchen with my sneaky husband, when I emerged. Otherwise, that lime would have made swift contact with his head. He grinned and rubbed the goosebumps off his arms. Risky, risky move, buster.
Since Friday, I’ve thought a lot about difficulties and training. Running this morning in 30-degree weather would not have happened if I had not been presented with this challenge. (My husband knows me pretty well.) Plain and simple, we tend to shy away from difficulties. We want to go from point A to point C without passing through point B. This is impossible. We want to learn a piece of music without ever practicing. We want our kitchen to be spotless without lifting a finger. We want to lose weight without the sacrifice of watching our diet and putting in any effort to exercise. I so desperately want to run 13.1 miles without having to go out there every single day and run one mile or two. It just isn’t going to happen, no matter how much my desire is for it to happen that way. The richness of any accomplishment is deeply rooted in the amount of time it required to succeed.
In the same way, our Heavenly Father knows what’s best for us. He sees that finish line, so very distant from our earthly eyes. He tells us things very similar to what Matthew has been telling me: “You’re stronger than you think, Aim.” My grace is sufficient in weakness, Jesus tells us. Like any good trainer, He pushes us outside our comfort zone. That is where we see results. When you walk the same path over and over, never stretching yourself to go a bit further, you may miss the incredible view just up ahead. When we run the same mile and never push our lungs and our legs past that initial burn, we never discover we have the ability to do a bit more. Jesus totally knows how hard it is. He never once said life would be burden-free, but He invites us to lay our burdens on His capable shoulders. He never said He would only give us as much as WE think we can handle. But He said “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” He will give you just a bit more than you think you can handle, so you’re stronger to go the next mile. It’s cold, it’s nasty sometimes, but He always sticks with us.
So I start my thirteen-mile journey… one step at a time.
Patchwork Tea
I crave two things almost equally every day: quality time with people and… chocolate. When an afternoon of tea with a friend is complimented with chocolate, it is pretty close to perfection. I am convinced if we spent less time stalking people from the comfort of our computer screens and more time actually getting to know them, we would be a much happier people. Because if you just read my definition of a perfect afternoon and thought how pristine, calm and cozy that sounded, you may have gotten the wrong impression. If you were here, you would have known how messy, loud and chilly it actually was… what with the mud, glitter, snacks, questions and the constantly opening door to the outside, all going on between sips and words. My definition of perfect rarely, if ever, equals calm, quiet, neat or tidy.
Not one moment after I poured the tea, hungry child number one came into the kitchen:
Mom? I’m hungry.
Ok. Go outside and play for a while, then you can have a snack.
We sat down, took one sip of tea, and began our conversation. No sooner has someone heard us swallow before coming in to ask:
Mom? Can I eat something?
No, go outside with your sibling and play first. Don’t forget to shut the door!
We continued our conversation, seamlessly blending our last sentence into our next. The interruption is merely like a breath between words. Another breath:
Mom? What can I eat? I’m hungry!
Another child walked into the kitchen. I’m hungry too!
Go outside! And shut the door behind you!
We entered back into the conversation. It’s okay if we can’t remember where we left off, because mommy brains are used to forgetting.
Another poor unsuspecting child asks for food. To me, it’s as if the same child has asked for a snack five times, when in reality it is a different child with the same song, fifth verse. Mom? I’m so hungry!
Go outside! And shut the door behind you!
A few minutes later, three children were eating apples and yogurt.
The door going outside opened and closed at least fifty-three times over the course of tea. Thankfully, there is always hot water and good conversation in abundance. Skinned knees, glitter, and more quests for food rounded out the afternoon. Not quite like how “tea” is pictured in my head when I say it, but it’s better somehow. There is no show, just a lot of love. Conversation is pieced together like a patchwork quilt, all mismatched yet perfect. Beauty is not in decor but in the person sharing that moment. There is nothing expensive, but time is priceless.
Hospitality is not something we must perfect before we do it. Have you ever tried to become perfect at playing the piano without ever practicing first? The Bible says we are to practice hospitality. No where does that mean your house has to be of a certain size, status of clean, or must you have matching dishes in order to be hospitable. It simply means you exude a welcoming spirit into your home and your life. We have sat on buckets as chairs, yet felt like kings and queens, because of love. We have also sat on the finest couches and eaten off matching dishes and felt as if we were intruders. Love opens the china closet and serves the finest wine. Love makes time and never looks at its watch. Love is measured not in what you give, so much as in what you hold back. Until my breath is gone, or the city water supply runs dry, I can always offer a cup of water… preferably hot, poured over a tea bag. 
Where Opossums Sleep and Cars Melt
I love to write. Today, however, is best left unwritten. This Veteran’s Day, I fought my own battles and waged my own war, along with my small army of five. We came out victorious in the end, but sometimes the process is painful at best. The past weekend was rough. I woke up with a blazing fever on Saturday morning, tried my best to mother from bed, while the kids brought me water, cool cloths, and warm rice bags for my freezing cold feet. Matthew was gone, and it was a sad and strange weekend. Both sets of grandparents were gracious to lend their hands to help with the kids so I could sweat and sleep in quiet. Thank you, guys… words aren’t enough.
Sickness, an opossum in the trashcan, and ornery computers all fall into my “No thank you” category of life.
When I focus on the misspellings, the bickering, the grime, and the general imperfectness of life… I end up just like a little wet rain cloud. It’s not cute. This is why I must write, because when I write, I remember. I remember: I love you, Mom, scrawled across the chalkboard… when it felt like the opposite was true. Someone finally nailing multiplication tables. Five wild munchkins voluntarily starting a game of hide-and-go-seek at the magic hour of hunger, while I finish cooking supper. A surprise cleaning of the bathroom without being asked. An entire day of clean bedrooms. Supper altogether.
In our one-room-school-house, learning doesn’t always involve the books. After the boys presented a reasonable-sounding argument as to why I should allow them to melt a few “useless” cars with the heat gun, I obliged. They showed care and it kept them busy for almost an hour.
While the boys melted cars, the girls enjoyed playing with shapes. I love what a dollar can buy in a thrift store!
My favorite thing last week in school had to be Jack’s letter he wrote to our friend in basic training. I knew in his mind he was thinking: Thank you for defending our country, but he wrote: Thank you for saving our city. I absolutely love it. He even told me today that he loves to write.
Those words made my heart soar, because loving to write isn’t forced, it’s born. Every once in a while, I get to witness the miracle of new discoveries being born in the hearts and minds of our children. It’s worth all the labor and gives me fresh perspective to press on for another day.
Wednesday Painted Blue
Today is Wednesday. Which is usually my Monday, as far as feelings, attitudes,and energy, goes. The sound of temper tantrums filled our home, too many times to count, making its small-ish size feel extra tight. I never knew sound could fill up space, but apparently it does. That sent me to pulling things out of clothes bins and into white trash bags. A word of warning from this mama: If you have more sweaters than fit into your 13×13 bin, then I will purge them from you. That goes for your pants, shirts, and shoes too. I have never once experienced anyone “wishing” they had something I gave away because I never saw them wear or enjoy it. I have pack-rat tendencies, so when I sense the urge to hoard coming on in me or my kids, I go a little purge-crazy. We have strict laws here as far as holding onto stuff. One small filing cabinet drawer easily fits all the papers we need for 7 people for the past 12 years. I am working very hard at making sure everything has a place, and if that thing doesn’t fit in its place, it goes bye-bye. I digress.
So, after my crazy clothing rampage, school began in earnest. There were tears and tantrums twice during one hour. The bathroom, being the only door that locks around here, is my favorite place to hide when the tears need to flow and I need the sunshine to wash my face. I also make important phone calls to the principal in there, and tell God how I don’t think I can do this anymore. Wednesday blues.
Then we had to do errands, complete with tears. I wonder at the source, and how it never runs dry. Three hours later, we came home. I was not met with the delicious smell I anticipated when walking in the door. My crock-pot dinner, which I worked so hard to be ready so at least ONE thing would go right… was cold. Some little fingers unplugged it for the toaster’s place, just before we left, and I never was the wiser.
Spills, blood, bites, stabs, falls, bangs and bruises have all been painted a different shade of blue across my day. But there was also an incredible sky painted today, which I love how Jack noticed all on his own. Clouds like stretched cotton, with a few three-dimensional puffs thrown in for good measure. There are also rainbows of trees, some burning, some glowing, some merely pronouncing God’s handiwork. They touch the blue and instantly cold and warm colors collide into a torrent of glory.
For the first time in fifteen hours, I only hear the clock ticking, with faint sounds of children playing. I used to have so much quiet in my life. Now my quiet is usually accompanied by sleep. Sitting on the sun-streaked bathroom floor, I was reminded not to constantly seek escape from my life, but rather embrace it. Straight on, hands open, arms wide, head up: embrace the noise, the questions, the messes, the tears. Take breaks, but don’t run away. There is one inch of tea left in this glorious break. My soul, only painted blue, is starting to burn a little bit of warm. I am starting to feel like those trees on fire, and I’m ready to add some color to Mon-nes-day, and call it Wednesday.
A Whole Lot of Simple
This is a guest post I wrote for my friend, Jessica, and was featured on her blog today. Check out her creative ideas and beautiful photography!
Dear New Mama,
I used to think I knew what being a mom was all about. Eleven years ago, we held our firstborn baby: a beautiful girl who weighed a mere 6lbs 3oz, but whose spirit more than made up for her size. Deep within her heart there has always been a spark. It lights up when she sees you, and her heart wraps around life like a hug. More experienced mamas always told me to “enjoy every moment” because they pass so quickly. I believe them now, as I stand eye-to-eye with my curly-haired beauty of a daughter and discuss things like marriage, boys, friendships, and other adult-like topics. I’m reminded of it when I root around in her drawer to borrow one of her shirts, or when she grabs my sneakers as we head out the door. I’m reminded of how fast time flies, but I’ll also never forget those first few months.
She was about a week old when God gave my husband an epiphany. This revelation truly changed how I have viewed motherhood the past eleven years. We were visiting my sister and brother-in-law, and the first night there our little peanut of a daughter just wouldn’t stop crying. She wore little grey footie pajamas with a trapdoor covering its bottom. She was beyond cute. But she wouldn’t stop crying. I nursed her, rocked her, and the tears fell from my exhausted eyes. Eventually, I handed her off to Matthew and told him how I couldn’t do it anymore. This mom stuff just was beyond my ability. I was angry, confused, and tired. That night God spoke to him.
He said, She’s not trying to upset you. Just love her. Here I was, thinking this one-week-old little baby was on a mission: Upset Mom. She had no more of an agenda to make me angry than I had to give birth again. Yet I viewed her wailing as a personal vendetta against me for something I had done. Frustrated, I expected her to know how much I needed to sleep and stop crying.
It wasn’t until a few years ago that my second epiphany came. It was more like a bullet shot straight at me, knocking me over with its force. We were driving home from somewhere and my husband told me flat-out how he didn’t think I liked being a mom. My attitude and actions showed a shoving away, a pushing aside of what I was called to be and do. I couldn’t have verbalized it as succinctly as he did. Most likely I would have labeled my behavior as “exhausted mommy syndrome”. When I let myself in on my own secret, however, I knew he was right. I didn’t like being a mom. I wanted to be just ME again. No strings attached at my hips, my tummy, my breasts, my hands, my shoulders. I was so tired of being needed every minute of every day. I had bought into the lie that children are inconvenient and draining me of my very life.
There are many chapters to be written from that moment to today, but I want you to know how raw and real motherhood is. It’s way more than a baby registry, leggings, and wall decals. It’s more complicated than a birth plan or a nursery theme. Yet it’s as simple as a bedtime story, a back-rub and knowing your child’s favorite color. It’s not about the jogging stroller you use, it’s about the time you spend with your children. It’s not about whether or not your tummy goes back to its original shape and size. It’s more about tickle fights and soothing scary dreams. Motherhood isn’t about you as much as it’s about who needs you. Your worth isn’t found in how you measure up to anyone else, it’s in how much you love. You will be depleted and exhausted to your very core, and then you will be filled up again and again with a love as strong as death. All the tough answers won’t be found in textbooks or parenting seminars, but rather in your child’s heart as you get to know them.
By the time our fifth baby bettered this world by her arrival, I was given yet another epiphany. It was almost too simple of a thing not to have realized yet. It dawned on me that the best possible way to enjoy the fleeting months of babyhood was to actually hold onto my baby. Not put her in something across from me, next to me, or in a different room than me. I held that sweet baby girl more than I ever held anyone. Not to say she never went to her bed or into a highchair, but I wasn’t so quick to use those things when I “got tired” of being needed. Heaven knows I get tired of being needed. But it’s not about me as much as it is about embracing how much they need me.
There is no such thing as a Supermom. There aren’t any secret capes to pin onto your exhausted shoulders. There aren’t any magic pills to swallow or programs to complete. Supermoms have everything together, and I’ve never met one yet. But there are moms whose kids hug them just because they know they won’t be pushed away. There are moms whose quality of life isn’t reflected in how pristine and organized her home is, but rather in how obviously used and loved her home is. There are moms who are secretly awesome. If your biggest fans are the faces who sit at the dinner table with you each day, then you are a super mom. If you love your children unconditionally, then you are a super mom. If who you are isn’t defined by how well you do things, then you are a super mom. If you allow yourself the grace of being imperfect, then you are a super mom. If you know how to say I’m sorry, then you are a super mom.
On the days when it’s hard, remember they are not out to get you. On the days you just want out of this job, hold them a little closer. On the days you’re running on empty, give just a little bit more. Children weren’t made to drain us of our life, but rather to enrich our life. I challenge you to be present more than perfect. I encourage you to love them right where they are today and not to wish away each and every stage of life for the next. It’s time to bury our selfish sleep-loving selves and give it everything we’ve got.
I used to think being a mom meant having a baby. Now I know it means a whole lot of simple, blended with the Divine, making the mundane beautiful. Welcoming your child into your family is what gives you the title, but it’s the everyday inglorious things which really shape you into a mother.
Green Spirals and Merciful Days
Mom, you never get peace, Jack said to me the other day. Wait! You had peace once! And he went on to talk about when they all went to Grandma’s house. I laughed out loud. Or if you’re going to use today’s lingo, I “roffled”. That is what I say in my head when I read ROFL… rolling on the floor laughing. No, I didn’t actually roll, or roffle, but I did achieve a small release of stress when I laughed out loud. Or lolled. (That’s LOL, btw.)
Tonight was no exception. I had great fun spiralizing my zucchini into fake noodles and tossing them with coconut sauce and blackened chicken. The kids watched Daniel Boone so I could spin deliciousness into my pots. But there is always one who doesn’t get the “peace memo”. She rolled on the floor crying. It’s always interesting trying to cook while stepping over a crying toddler. My strategy was to wait until they were so hungry, they would forget that the green zucchini noodles were not actually made from pasta. It worked for two of them, took convincing for two of them, and downright failed for the fifth one. This is when I use every ounce in my body not to take a two-year-old’s opinion of my cooking to heart. In the middle of our green spaghetti supper, a nameless highchair dweller knocked over one of the herb pots on the window sill. The walls start closing in when things like that happen.
I’ve been waiting for a really really good excuse to scrub my kitchen floor. The successful eaters got chocolate ice-cream for dessert. The last one… did not. An hour later, I graciously gave her a banana, because she at least touched it to her tongue. Elijah said, Mom, you were really merciful tonight! when he saw her eating the banana. Thanks, Buddy.
Then I remembered these verses I just read.
But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul that seeks him.
(Lamentations 3:21-25)
Even when I mess up, spill dirt, and wreck what He has planned… He still shows steadfast love, unending mercy, and abundant faithfulness.
So the truth is, despite what is outwardly going on, inside I always have peace. Jesus has wiped my heart of its spills and dirt. He has left the calm assurance of His forgiveness and faithfulness in place of the mess. Tomorrow, His mercies are new.
And tomorrow, maybe my floor will be clean.
Everything New Today, or ENT
As usual, this week has passed about as quickly as the wind that whips my hair through the open windows of the car. This phone dump is a smattering of what has blown through this week:
My life, in our van, is always noisy. I admit, I’m jealous of folks who say their kids get sleepy in the car. Ours tend to go a bit wild. They tell jokes, do anything and everything to annoy their neighbor, cry, sing, tattle, and do whatever it takes to not fall asleep. I experienced an almost-flat tire last Saturday. When I drove into the gas station to check it out, I hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet when a very nice man started to pump up my visibly flat tire. Turns out there was a screw in there, and was easily fixed later.
A city date with friends did my claustrophobic mommy-heart good. There are some days when the walls of home and car seem very tight, and the expanse of the city line eases the life-is-closing-in-feeling. We ate at an Ethiopian restaurant which served stellar samosas, delicious dinner and the most amazing coffee I’ve ever had. It was so good, that I tried my hand at cooking it at home, with great success and happiness.
Another highlight was our 10-10 at 10:10 date to get Elsie’s cast off her arm! With a clean bill of health, she is back to speeding across monkey bars.
This week it was an honor seeing my 4th and 5th grade teacher from when I lived in Africa. When time telescopes like this, I shake my head in wonder at how I have such clear memories of when I was as old as two of my children.
Other highlights include the fact that I need reading glasses.
Yesterday, two of my accessory-loving children got into my closet. It was a much-needed diversion from school.
Then somehow the outfit helped Jack get through the rest of his work a little easier.
Cooking is on an upswing for me, after a long bout in non-inspiration land.
Matthew visited the ENT this week and found out he has a yeast infection in his throat, so he’s on medicine for that now. His voice continues to be hoarse and he’s trying to rest it as much as possible. Otherwise, he feels well. In the next couple of weeks he needs to meet up with the plastic surgeon who did the surgery on his eyes a couple of years ago. We will need to set up a long-term game plan for possible future reconstructive surgery of his sinus area. The bridge of his nose is collapsing, and before a situation might become emergent, we need to figure out some possible courses of action. We would love to stop the medical dates, trips to the pharmacy, and be immune to disease. Yet, we know Jesus more through trial than through ease. We grow when the weight is heavy, not light. This temporary home loses much of its charm when it’s full of trouble, and our heavenly home grows more beautiful. Knowing every situation is allowed by God who knows and loves us more deeply than we’ll ever understand, gives comfort and peace beyond explanation. One day ENT will have a new meaning for us: that day when Jesus makes everything new. Everything New Today… might be today!
Everyone Needs Paperclips
Being a week behind in life, what was to be our official starting week of school has been pushed to next week. It was great being able to go to Ikea and finish off the last-minute things needed to complete our new and improved school room for this year! (More on that another day…)
Last night I ran into staples to bind my custom-created yearly planner. I printed all the calendar and lesson pages (to be filled in as the year goes on) and had them bind it. It was perfect… until it was backwards. Thankfully she was able to trim the hole punches off the right hand side and re-bind it on the left. It was then that I was struck with the need to buy paper-clips. In the paperclip aisle I stared at the one row: completely sold out. Twenty-five cents for a hundred paper clips. What a steal! There was no way I was going to spend one or two dollars now. Unfortunately, every other person in Chester County must have needed paperclips this week, too. I am still a bit irritated. We literally have no paper clips, and the people who bought them probably only bought them because they were a quarter.
Being in need of something brings out the best and worst in us. We can either think nasty thoughts of everyone else around us who has what we wish we had. Or, we can experience God’s strength to power through the intense hunger or need or want we may have.
I have a friend who is going through some intense need. Four kids, no car, mold in their house so they can’t even be there… completely relying on others to be the hands and feet of Christ. Completely dependent on what others have to get them where they need to go and give them a roof over their heads. I know the desire is there to give up and wish those hard things away. In our recent stay in the hospital we were also completely at the end of our own strength and ability to do life as we normally know it. The same friend stayed up all night that first night and prayed with me through texts, as she held my hand from afar and kept me from feeling alone. That is why I know her faith is stronger than circumstances. Our faith has to be more than skin deep. When we feel the initial pain of disappointment, annoyance, or unknown, how do we react? Do we wish it all away, or do we look up and wait in expectation for how God will work out the puzzle in which we find ourselves?
When the Israelites were brought out of Egypt, God received glory. … He saved them for His name’s sake, that He might make His mighty power known. He rebuked the Red Sea also, and it dried up; so He led them through the depths, as through the wilderness. He saved them from the hand of him who hated them, and redeemed them from the hand of the enemy. The waters covered their enemies; there was not one of them left. Then they believed His words; they sang His praise. In three verses, a miracle of unimaginable magnitude occurred. The sea dried up and their problems were literally washed away. I felt a lot like this the past few weeks. Things that seemed impossible have happened. God’s presence was tangibly felt through each sleepless night and raspy breath. He literally rescued us from death. Yet the next verses in Psalm 106 are a stark warning.
They soon forgot His works;
They did not wait for His counsel,
But lusted exceedingly in the wilderness,
And tested God in the desert.
And He gave them their request,
But sent leanness into their soul.
When we forget what God has done for us, we start walking in our own strength and become very discontent. Over and over, the Bible tells us to remember, remember, remember. Set up a rock and call it Ebenezer: this far the Lord has helped us. Write it on your forehead. Mark it on your calendar and celebrate! Break the bread and drink the wine. Don’t forget. Never ever forget. Because when we forget, we start to want what is around us. We wish away the desert and everything hard. We don’t realize it, but by our forgetfulness and discontent we are never going to experience the way God wants to reveal Himself to us. When we ask for plenty, we may be given our request, but sometimes it comes at a pretty high price.
I’ve thought long and hard about the past few weeks. Would I trade the weeks in the wilderness for something a bit easier? Maybe no sickness, no money problems, no pain? It is tempting. Yet the moment I turn my eyes towards what is easy, I sense my focus shifting towards my own strength and not the Lord’s. My soul becomes hungry and wastes away when it is not relying solely on the Lord for every meal, every need, literally every breath. I don’t want to forget. I fear forgetting. That is one reason I must write: I must declare out-loud what great things the Lord has done for us!
So whether it is food, mounting bills, a vehicle or paperclips… if we have need, He will provide. May our souls never become sick because we rush ahead of what God is about to do. It is incredible both to experience God’s provision and also to be the hands and feet of Christ in practical ways.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort… We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt we had received the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us again. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many. (2 Corinthians 1:3-11)
We Are Glad
Sitting in the hospital gives you a lot of time to think. Matthew has had a pretty good day, after a more scary evening yesterday. Every moment is such a gift! Finding joy in God’s word, humor in little things, and I did some push-ups and squats for Matthew. Not exactly what the cardiac floor is used to, I suppose. (By the way, his heart is great, it just helps them monitor him better by being on this floor.)
We miss our babies, but are so thankful for family close by who are taking such good care of them for us. We love flipping out the nurses by telling them we have five kids. The boys made cards for Matthew and Elijah’s said, Be brave.
I jotted some funnies down from the past two weeks.
After explaining something to Jack, he said to me, I’ve been growing, and…I have listening ears now… Finally.
Betty is becoming more and more vocal. A few weeks ago we were looking at the birthmark on the back of her arm and she said, I have a birk! She loves to say, Hey, Mommy! Hey, Mommy! Over and over until I respond. And then she’ll say it again. She had an awful virus the past 10 days that affected her mouth, but I hear from Grandma that she is eating and talking just like herself now.
Elsie dreams of being a ballerina. As she donned her ratty tutu and sparkly hello kitty shoes she told me how it all could go: You can put pony tails in my hair, go to the store, get ballerina shoes, and take me to ballerina class!
As we were driving, I asked her to pray. So she started praying and it went something like this: Thank you for this day, thank you for our car… punch-buggy white! And please help us drive safely… I love her thought process! She also is the best at playing punch-buggy! A very observant little girl.
As we hang out, I’ve reflected over the past couple of weeks in pictures.
Left to Right, starting from the top, here are some of my favorite memories of the past two weeks:
Reading Pat the Bunny on the front porch five times in a row. Betty would always kiss the page with Daddy’s scratchy face.
Matthew fixed the over-heating problem we were having with the van! After hours of grease and sweat, he beat the heat.
Our neighbor gave us their old queen-sized bed. Around 10 PM the men got stuck half way up the stairs with the box spring. Not only did they sawzall it to make it work, but then Matthew reconstructed it so we could sleep there that night. It is SO comfortable and makes me feel like a queen!
Sick little Betty snuggling in aforementioned bed with sick daddy.
On good days, Matthew had been working on our backyard shed! It looks so nice, and is almost finished!
Mint tea from our garden and God’s word is always a good way to start ones day.
Betty started to feel better and we had a fun little time on the trampoline while we watched Daddy work.
The older 3 kids were at Grandma Weldon’s for a couple of days. When we went to pick them up, Elsie started laughing and crying all at once with the sheer joy of seeing them again!
Paleo fudge shaped like a heart. What’s not to love?
Jack and Elsie comparing loose teeth in the car.
Being sick is no fun, but when you can lean on each other, it makes it a bit easier to bear.
A diet of applesauce and yogurt is made more fun when you can eat yogurt with your fingertips.
Free ice-cream and brothers.
Earning free ice-cream from the library for doing many hours of reading!
Riding the tricycle at Grandma’s house is better together!
Jack loves the color orange and his giant Tigger! He strapped him into a car seat and everything!
My friend came by today and blessed me with this mug. When I finished drinking my tea, there was my favorite verse written on the bottom of the cup: The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy! Psalm 126:3 He has indeed!
Grow Old With Me 