love

Sweet Six

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Jack Attack turned six last weekend.

We had a relaxed family day at Grandma Weldon’s.  While the rain poured outside, we enjoyed chocolate cupcakes and a warm fire.

A new game of Perfection made us laugh, with its power to startle every single time it exploded.

Betty loves to give kisses, and who is better to love than Daddy?

So now we have a six-year-old in the house.  Even though he’s still patiently waiting for his first tooth to fall out, he’s growing up.  He’s my own personal body guard and he’s my sweet little boy.    I do hope he always dreams big, like his walls that are covered in taped up wishes and dreams.  Pages of lego magazines and cars and toys.  Drawings he has made.  Cockeyed static stickers.  He has so many dreams of being a man.  One day he will be just that, and I pray that his heart will always be tender towards others.  I know that one day he won’t have playing cards duct-taped to his bicycle wheels to make it sounds like a motorbike.  He won’t always wear his shirts backwards or forget to put on his underwear.   He will no longer have a shelf full of shiny rocks, bottle caps, lego men, old keys, and special memories.  Or, maybe he will.

Good-Bye Twenties

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My palms were sweaty when we drove up to my sister’s house on Saturday.  For weeks now, I have been sneaking around behind Matthew’s back.  Since I’ve only ever known him as a teenager or a boy in his twenties, his thirtieth birthday was a big deal.  I jotted all of my notes down in Jack’s notebook, drove here and there picking things up and dropping them off.  One day we had a “craft day” at Heather’s house to make these beautiful creations:

They weren’t exactly the highlight of the party decor, like in my minds’ eye, but the tree they hung on looked festive anyway.  The entire day wouldn’t have been so fabulous without my family.  Everyone was amazing.  Matthew eventually stopped asking me questions about our “surprise date”, and later he confessed that he did have suspicions.  But nothing dampened the mood of that day, and it was delightful to see friends and family and hang out together.

There was much swinging and baseball to be had by all.

We have arrived in the thirties with much celebration and gratefulness.  I love my husband so very much.  A lot of things have happened since I filled up his attic bedroom with balloons on his 17th birthday.  We’ve been up and down and all around, yet I can confidently say that I love him more today than I ever have.  It’s an exciting thought to anticipate loving someone more each day.  It’s exhausting sometimes to work at marriage and keep it growing.  We’ve been doing a lot of gardening lately.  Just tonight, in one of our egg carton starters, all of Matt’s little seedlings got knocked over and spilled.  We could give up when things like that happen.  Or we can pick up the dirt, mend the broken pieces, water, love, and nurture those seeds and expect to see growth.  Maybe those beans will be that much more able to withstand a violent storm, because of the test they’ve been through tonight.  Every hard time in life, in marriage, in parenting, is growing us into stronger men, women, husbands, wives, fathers and mothers.

Every day I’m reminded of how beautiful life is.  It’s not always exactly how we wish it would be, and oftentimes it’s much harder than we’d like, but it is always, always beautiful.

Willow’s Day

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Life is so beautiful.  Today I had the privilege of going to the smallest funeral I have ever attended.  The baby was in a tiny wooden box, about the size of a man’s hand.  Inside, a life that just one day ago was warm and cozy inside her mother’s womb, lay still, but spoke volumes to our hearts.  Sixteen weeks old, her hand barely covered half of her mama’s fingernail.  Her feet, about the height of a penny, never touched earthly soil, but now they skip and play on golden streets.  The beauty of the spring sunshine and barely green willow trees framed the morning perfectly.  We all gathered under the weeping willow tree which marks her earthly tie.  Friends and family who mourn, stand, hope, and love.  There is courage on her parents’ faces, as they trust in the Maker of life who gave and took away.  On the faces of her two brothers and two sisters, there is pride in their baby sister, who made it to Heaven first.  We’re told to mourn with those who mourn, and my heart aches with these amazingly special friends.  Yet, what joy and comfort we have, knowing she is being kept safe in Heaven for you.

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.

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!

The Best is Yet to Come

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Last weekend we had the privilege of going to a beautiful wedding.  It was extra special, because we have walked with this couple from way back when… They are an incredible example of what God can do when you give Him control over your life and your love.  The day was simple and exquisite.  

I was blessed with an incredible weekend.  My sweet friend, MJ, let me swing by her house and she dolled me up with her sweater and jewelry.  We met some great folks, ate delicious food, and were refreshed so much.

Josh & Niki, we are so proud of you.  We’re encouraged by your faith in God, your trust in His best for your lives, and for your servant hearts.  We love you and will continue to pray you through these best years of your lives.

The Boy with the Nametag

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Fourteen years ago I had met him around a campfire.  Eight months later I saw him again and craned my neck to read the name tag associated with the smiling eyes and handsome face.  Weldon.  I liked it.  I used the rest of my summer conniving ways to be with that boy, and I haven’t really ever stopped.  When I found out he was barely sixteen, I knew it was going to be a long wait.  But it sure was fun, and life has never been more sweet than when Matthew has been a part of it.  We dated pre-text, pre-facebook, pre-cellphone, and almost pre-email.  I remember going through the phone bill, highlighting all the time spent calling Philadelphia, and writing my dad a check to cover that portion.  I remember the weekly letters that arrived with a stamp, a hand-written note, and often something else fun or creative to woo my heart.  Once he sent me a mango because he knew it was my favorite fruit.  We did cutesy things like learn Morse code so we could write secret messages to each other on woodwork and trees.  When I was twenty, I left him for Kenya and he let me chase down my wild dreams and be on my own for six months, so I could hear what God was telling me to do with my life.  We talked on the phone twice during that time, for two minutes, because it cost four dollars a minute.  When I came back with a hundred braids in my hair, my heart was a lot more settled.  I had doubted our future together, only to have it confirmed even stronger than before.  When it became very clear that the time for us to get married was here, my sister demanded that he have a job, a driver’s license, and a place to live, even if it was a tent.  He bought a tent.  Then he did get a good job and a driver’s license.  Eight months later, we were engaged, and five months after that, we were married!

I love how I’ve been able to experience life with Matthew.  He’s so simple and uncomplicated.   He hates it when I write about him.  So I won’t gush.  But I do want to reflect on God’s hand in our marriage.  He has meshed two imperfect people together and handed us one experience after another in which to walk together.  We have had a few times where I honestly had no idea how we would ever patch things up again.  Before Nadine was born, I was so mad at him one night because he fell asleep when I wanted to stay up in bed and talk.  I got so steamed up that I jerked myself out of bed and slammed the bedroom door as hard as I could.  Anger turned to remorse when the bookshelf above our bed fell off the wall and landed on his head.  Strong’s concordance woke him up with a bang.  I’ve been selfish and mean, but he still hugs me close every night.

When I think about how I dreamed that I would marry that boy with that name tag and those eyes, I am simply amazed.  God blew me away.  I’m living with the dream of my life.

Romance

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Today I am thrilled to write this guest post on my good friend, Jessica’s blog.  She is an amazingly creative person.  I remember being her staff parent at camp one summer when I was still pregnant with Nadine.  She showed me this tiny photo of a guy she liked.  Her eyes just shone when she talked about him, and I was so impressed with her level head and strong spirit.  I just knew she would marry him one day.  She did marry him, and now they have two handsome boys.  Jessica is someone I wish was my neighbor, but since we can’t be right now, I enjoy getting to know her more by reading her blog and emailing.  

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If we are seen kissing, it is anything but romantic. But it doesn’t stop us. “Eeeeew!” our kids exclaim, while unable to peel their eyes away from our embrace. Ten years ago I was told, “Just you wait.” Dire warnings engulfed us, that this romance thing wouldn’t last. I can’t say my idea of romance has necessarily changed since I was “young and in love”, as much as it’s been simplified and yet expanded.

I have found that romance grows and takes shape when we fill our spouse’s heart with the knowledge of how much we love them. We show it off when we do things we know they will love. I know Matt loves it when I have a little lunch ready for him in the fridge the night before he has to work. I also know that he likes to go to bed with me, not before or after me. He in turn knows that I turn to mush when the house is picked up or if my shoulders start getting massaged. Romance doesn’t just belong under the pretense of candlelight dinners and expensive chocolates. A few weeks ago I woke up to a tired Monday morning, opened the fridge, and found a huge bowl of pancake batter all mixed and ready to go, with the griddle sitting on the counter, ready to accept the challenge of five hungry children. That was more meaningful to my heart than a great many red roses.

Romance, in its pure essence, is really just knowing what the other person loves or needs and making every effort to fulfill those longings or needs. Kids are good at this. They make things that will touch the sweet spot in a person’s heart. Our kids are always giving away their toys to their friends or eachother as an expression of love. They know I love mail, so I will often receive little letters and cards on my pillow, or hand-delivered when it looks like I’m having a rough day. The other night my oldest daughter cleaned the bathroom without being asked… at nine o’clock at night. The next morning it was such fun to secretly unload the dishwasher for her, then say, “Nadine, can you please unload the dishwasher?” I could see the difficulty rise in her eyes as the twinkles grew in my own, but she walked over and opened it anyway. I said, “Surprise!” She broke out in a huge grin. “That was the BEST surprise EVER!” Little things we know will touch and fill up someone’s heart.. that to me is romance. It can be in the form of loving your kids and knowing what makes them smile and feel loved.

Of course if you need inspiration, all you need to do is look to the Creator of romance. He has given us the ultimate example of knowing what our hearts needed and fulfilled that need through Jesus. He knew how deeply we yearn for nearness and peace. He came, died, rose again, and now offers to lift the heaviness of guilt and sin off our shoulders and replace it with peace and joy. He always knows what we need before we ask. He sends us romantic gestures every day by perfuming the world with flowers, touching our skin with breezes, and kissing us to sleep with moonlight. He knows how much I love color and I know He paints the sky and changes the leaves to make me squeal with excitement. He knew how I loved this boy named Matthew, and then He let us get married! He knows my need for humor and so He gave me five kids to keep me laughing every day. He not only knows about me, but He is the one who created all these crazy quirks and needs and loves and longings that I feel every day. He made and knows all about yours too!

I hope your life is full of romance. Not the sappy, chocolaty romance everyone gags over. Rather, the kind that spends a few extra minutes tucking in your children at night, or prepares your love’s favorite meal. It’s making pancakes with extra chocolate chips. It’s filling up her gas tank for the week. For some, it’s making the bed. For others, it’s leaving it messy once in awhile. I, for one, will never stand around and wait for romance to die. I will keep on kissing my man, especially in front of my cootie-loving children.