whimsy

Bright Hope

/ amylynw / 1 Comment

I can’t shake the chill from my fingers.  This is the umpteenth time I’ve warmed up my daughter’s heart-shaped rice bag and snuggled it close.  Was it really a week ago that my legs were burning as I bushwhacked my way up a thorny hillside to behold a sight so beautiful it made every scratch worth it? DSC_6488 DSC_6516-001 Was it really only a week ago we were on the beautiful Haitian shoreline, snorkeling in the ocean, and crisping under the Caribbean sun? DSC_6582-001 DSC_6597-001 I remember our last night there but it collides with my today so jarringly, I wonder if it really happened?  Ocean breezes collide with winter chill.  Adventure seems to have made way for monotony.  New sights have been replaced by similar surroundings again.  As clichéd as it is, last week feels like a dream.

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My body is jet-lagged not from time, but weather.  It’s impossible to write even a summary of our week in Haiti.  I could go through my journal and tell you each thing we did or ate, but I don’t think that would be profitable.  I’d rather reflect on the ways God worked in my heart and showed Himself to me. Before leaving, our entire family was plagued with the great throw-up bug.  In between washing sheets and blankets and every conceivable surface, I attempted to pack.  How it got done is only by God’s grace.  I had pictured myself cleaning our house and leaving it pristine and tidy, with love notes tucked in different places for Matt to find while we were gone.  I left the house a complete mess.  Not one single love note, not even scribbled on the mirror.

One of my worst fears was getting sick while we were in Haiti.  The second our plane landed, Nadine threw up.  The day after we arrived, I was hit with terrible diarrhea.   I prayed for God to take it away and He did, just before we left on our first outing into the village.  The next night I was hit with a fever and went to bed shivering and sweating all night long.  The next day we traveled to the Moringa field where CPR-3 is working.  I was not about to let a fever get in the way of  the day. The moringa tree is literally a miracle from God.  Check out the amazing benefits it provides, here.  Revelation 2:22 paints a little picture of Heaven and describes another miraculous tree:  And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. DSC_5533-001 This verse implanted itself on my mind the entire day we chopped down moringa trees.  I ate their leaves and prayed for healing from the fever.  The whole day was a blessing.  We sweated and learned more about each other, and eventually I did get well.

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God took my worst fear and showed me that His grace is sufficient in our weakness.  I felt His care through my team around us, encouraging and caring for Nadine & me.  There are many fears that throw themselves at us each and every day.  This week I was reminded: you are still here, because God wants you here.  Not that I feel as if I was facing death, but many are, and we never know what tomorrow may bring.  If we rest in God’s promise of now, and do not fear what we can not see, our hearts can be at peace.Haiti Day 6

That is enough to jump for joy and be full of hope.

Strength for today, bright hope for tomorrow;
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand besides.

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Like A Kite

/ amylynw / 1 Comment

The clouds have done nothing but rush by all day long.  The sky changes so abruptly I can barely keep up with whether it’s sunny or cloudy.  This week has done much of the same: quickly change from one thing to the next.  All of a sudden it’s Thursday again!  My thoughts feel choppy, like the gusts of wind whipping us about today.  I won’t try to smooth them out, but rather let them out as they fly.

Pig tails, brown eyes, and boo-boo’s on her nose.

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A frequented spot in our house: the potty!  This week Betty has successfully potty-trained herself.  She loves her panties, her potty, and the two chocolate chips she gets when she goes!  Sometimes even her pink baby bunny has to go potty too.  We’re going on day 3 of dry panties, even through naps!  It’s super fun going places without having to think about a diaper bag!

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I caught this boy engrossed in a book.  He was pretending to be annoyed at me.

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Recently, the boys started wrestling with our local school.  They love it!  Such a great experience for them both!

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Elsie is the queen of accessory.  While on an afternoon visit to Grandma’s, she had to bring half  her bed along.

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Looking at her eyes is like drinking dark chocolate.

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I’m so thankful that tea-parties are not above my boys’ taste.  They’re manly enough to enjoy fine china.  Elijah had a laughing fit at one point.

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In a week, Nadine & I will be getting ready to fly out of the country to Haiti!  We’re super excited to leave these wintry winds behind for a week and see the sunshine from another part of the world.  I haven’t started actually packing yet, but in my head I have.  There is school, cooking, laundry, and other things that don’t stop just because I think it would be super convenient of them to do so. My heart is more important than my suitcase, and I’m praying that God prepares me for whatever He has in store for us there.

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I love her creative self.  She’s always had a thing for kites, so she came up with her very own garbage bag kite to enjoy on this very windy day!  She told me she’d like to sell them for 50 cents.  AND they conveniently fit in one’s pocket.  Love it.

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It’s been a grand fast-flying week.

 

The Snow Angels Declare

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All week  I’ve been watching my little geranium about to bloom on the kitchen window sill.  This morning it was fully open.  It’s simply breathtaking to see a burst of living color in the dead of winter.  My eyes look at it, feeling starved.  I can’t stop drinking in its color and life!

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Now the snow is falling.  Of course the boys went right outside to play in it.  I happened to look out of the laundry room window to see them smiling at a pair of snow angels they just made.  I gave them a thumbs up and they grinned even bigger.  A few minutes later I heard their voices at the front door asking me to come and see something.  My first thought was, No thank you, I’d rather not risk being bitten by the snow.  However, an excitement in their voices drew me past even my annoyance of the cold.

Mom!  We made snow angels down the WHOLE sidewalk!  Sure enough, they did.

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When I turned to come back inside, Elijah said, Now everyone can see how great the glory of God is!

I am speechless.  What a way to look at everything we do.  All for the glory of God, so everyone can see how great and awesome He is!

God’s Holy Equation

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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.

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Doing the Beautiful

/ amylynw / 2 Comments

Between the lines… what really happens?  More than I can write about.  I want these writings to be something my children can look back on and see… love… laugh… learn… remember.  This month has been full to the brim with adventures, excitement, ordinary happenings and trying ordeals.  Some days have felt full.  Others have felt more like everything has broken all around me and what was once beautiful is being spilled onto the floor and wasted.  But more on that later.

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Sometimes I feel like I’m looking in a mirror when I glance up at this girl.  She’s eye-level with me now.  When did this happen?

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Sometimes I am looking in the mirror.  Yes, I was rather grossed out to see there was enough dried-on toothpaste flung onto our bathroom mirror for someone to play tic-tac-toe on it.  Yes, I took a picture.  Because I know this aberration will not be seen when these kids have flown the coop and I have all day long to polish my bathroom mirrors.  That is what I’ll be doing, right?

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This guy’s blue eyes fill a special place in my heart.  They are the first to open in the morning.  They are tender with tears when he misses his little sister visiting Grandma.

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Way back on January 5th, we were woken up with rustling feet and excited voices.  Big sister pulled everyone’s signatures and proudly presented this card to us.  Then littlest sister proceeded to eat the breakfast I was served in bed.  It was a special morning, marking eleven years married to the love of my life.

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Before the leg was hurt, everyone enjoyed watching Daddy crank out some moves on his blades.

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Don’t be fooled by the princess helmet, polka-dot pants and Mary Jane shoes underneath those plastic fisher price wheels.

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This girl can bust out some moves of her own!

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Sometimes I have helpers in the kitchen.  Sometimes an egg beater covered in vanilla pudding is the trick to stopping the evening-blues that tend to hit sweet two-year-old girls.

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Often there are hand stands, flips, break-dances, and other movements thumping the floor.

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After our December journeys, our van really did look that bad.  Not a speck of shine.  Since we had exactly enough money for a car-wash, we treated our van to a little pampering.  I’m not sure who was more excited: the kids or I.  Betty was in awe and when we exited the wash and kept saying, Again!  Again!

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Five days a week, there is school.  I relish the one-on-one times.  Jack is like an airplane who has stopped its taxi only to get faster until its airborne.  He is flying over obstacles, and getting better and better at sticking to a hard task until it’s finished.  The new camouflage overalls given to him recently have been a huge hit.

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Other spaces in my day find more messes.  More brokenness.  More being spilled out.  Sometimes I react like Jesus’ disciples did to the woman who broke a very expensive jar of perfume with which to anoint Jesus’ head:  Why this waste, Lord?  The time spent cleaning up, making beautiful, or saving for something special.  Then, disaster, messiness, shattered glass.  What’s the point?

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I hear Jesus speak in return to my disgust, my wondering, my anger.  You have done a good work for me…  You have done what you could.

Jesus never wastes trials.  Our perspective is so temporal.  It sees the shards.  He sees the end.

The ultimate brokenness was for you and for me.  He hung, perfect and sinless, bleeding and broken on a wooden cross.  More pain than shattered glass or ruined hopes.  In His brokenness, He crushed through the worst barrier separating us from God: sin.  While his mother wept and wondered at this loss, this waste of a perfect life… God saw the end.  He saw what we get to see now!  Resurrection power poured out on all who believe.  Forgiveness of sins.  Eternal life.  All because of brokenness.

Nothing we are going through is a waste.  He redeems, sweeps up broken pieces, restores, heals, forgives, and makes beautiful that which we thought was defective.  He turns what we think is worthless into something of unimaginable value.

So I will keep on doing what is before me.  What I can do.  I will give Him my best, my cracked, empty self.  Jesus says when we do this, we have done a beautiful thing for Him. (Mark 14:6)

Year of Whimsy

/ amylynw / 1 Comment

All week, I’ve been pondering my word for the year.  I used to do this regularly.  One year it was the year of “miracles”.  That was the same year our Elsie was born.  We were told there was a good possibility we wouldn’t be able to have more children because of the medicine Matthew was taking.  Miracle indeed.

This year I think we’ve nailed down the word.  Whimsy.  It means: Extravagant.  Excessively playful.  Spontaneous.  Unpredictable.  It seems to define my life right now.  I don’t like the negative connotations like, “superficial, careless, unstable and  wayward.”  However, though life is full of whimsy, God is full of the constancy, dependability and steadiness I lack.  Though He is steadfast, He brings unpredictable events into our lives.  He is constant, yet loves spontaneous action.  Through changes, He remains dependable.

Our year of whimsy actually stems from a book Matthew and I just finished reading.  It is called Love Does, by Bob Goff.  Hands down, one of the best books I’ve ever read.  It drips of unpredictable and crazy stories, steadied by the unflinching action of love behind it all.  It’s one of those books you take everywhere, peruse it at a red light, read excerpts to your friends but end up reading entire chapters instead.  Whimsy can be looked at as being a bit odd.  I often feel this way, doing things a little differently, living my own dream, not wanting to be typical.  Sometimes I feel like a girl wearing a red dress at a black and white party.  But that’s ok, and I know God has different styles of writing our stories.  What I do or don’t do are not intended as judgement on anyone else’s actions.  Things I like or don’t like is not intended to be criticisms for what you may enjoy. What He pens for me will be very different from what He pens for you.  The way we raise our kids, spend our money, and use our time is both based on what the Bible says, and also how the Holy Spirit whispers in our individual ears.

I’ve never been very typical.  I don’t like epidurals, car payments, cable, video games, fast food, or makeup.  I wear clothes I’ve had for ten years, and buy a brand new outfit maybe once a year.  I use pencils until the led is the same size as the eraser.  I don’t know what it’s like to drive a new car or have matching furniture.  I’ve never been to college, and never gotten drunk.  I’m not sure what certain swear words mean.  I empty out my vacuum bags by hand until they fall apart, because I see no need to buy new ones when they get full.  Sometimes we eat expired food, because it’s what we have and it won’t kill us.  I’ve touched African soil and its dirt is ingrained on my soul.  I’ve lived and swum in the Caribbean with sea urchins an inch from my skin.  I’ve kissed and made love to one man alone, and have been captivated again and again by his love and loyalty.  Our bank account has said $.03 balance, and we’ve gotten down on our knees and prayed.  Our account has said $10,000 balance, and we’ve gotten down on our knees and praised.  Twelve times a home has been miraculously provided for our family, at just the perfect time, in just the perfect place.  A few times we have tried to walk the expected road that seems most practical and traveled.  Yet the burdens and turmoil which have met us along the way have never been worth the trying.  It is in the unexpected, less traveled paths where we have found the most peace and joy.  Sometimes we are weary with waiting, tired of hacking through the underbrush.  I raise up my whiny cup of tears and complaint, wishing for an easier way.  The road with no aches, no pains, no oddities, and clear steps from here until eternity.  But the path through the fog is most sure, because the step before me is always as clear as it needs to be.  I’m much more likely to grip the strong hands of the Man in the boat, when the water is rough, than when it is calm.

So I’m looking forward to this year of whimsy.  Full of thankfulness, I pray it brings glory to the Author of my story and Perfecter of my faith.
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