Just Writing

This is me starting somewhere.  Just writing because I have this need to write and for a long while now have not had the energy or clearness of thought to be able to put anything down on the page.  Life has been a challenge lately.  The kind where you find yourself just never really getting to the bottom of anything but the one thing you do know is that you have to keep going.  You have to keep waking up every day and putting both feet to the ground and choosing to stand up and do all the things that are before you. 

This isn't to say that there have been no moments of joy.  There have been plenty.  It's just that I have had only enough to find them and notice them and give a small whisper of thanks and then move on.  And that's okay.  It's just the season we've been in.

Today, running on very little sleep I have been able to do the dishes and some laundry and help sick boys and make lunch.  I feel very accomplished.  :)

Our unborn baby is growing well.  Moving around a lot according to the ultrasounds, but I still do not feel movement.  I have a suspicion that the placenta might be in the front this time which makes it harder to feel these things. 

This morning I was really feeling like I wished it would snow.  The bright whiteness of a good snow always seems like such a fresh start to me.  I whispered a little prayer about this.  And God answered with the smallest of snows, just flurries that dusted the rooftop out my kitchen window.  Like He was saying that He wanted me to know, that even though He couldn't give me what I wanted just then, He heard me.  He always hears me and listens and cares.  Even when the answer is no or the answer is just silence.  And as cliche as it sounds the truth is He leaves me a peace that fills me up. 

So I keep putting my feet to the floor every morning.   

August....

....is a month of abundance.  Hot days, warm nights.  Summer rain.  Sunshine.  Sunshine.  Sunshine.  All these things bring about abundance in a garden. 

 Eggplants.

 The "wealthy" apples, just like my grandma grew, from the tree we thought was dead.

 Pears growing in their perfect roundness.

 The sweetness of nectar sustaining such beauty.

Yet....these same things....sunshine, and heat, and even rain....the things that are essential for growth....they also stress the plants.  Too much of any of these causes the plants to be stunted and weak. And as I'm out in the garden, (like Eve?) I wonder how one balances all this.  How do we, creatures that need growth to live, how do we ever control the "circumstances" enough to avoid stress and thrive?

 The summer goodness also brings weeds.  The garden was full of them when we got home!  I didn't mind too much, because nerd that I am, I actually like weeding.  It sorts my insides out without me knowing it.

And in case you haven't seen this crazy picture yet....the summer goodness also brought this to my potato patch....

 And no, I didn't chase them away even though the Mr. McGregor in me thought about it.  I waited a few days until their eyes opened and then I did! 

 They sure were sweet to watch though.  The boys loved, loved, loved them.  And when we released them (ahem...chased them out with a stick) the little hollow left behind did feel a bit sad and empty.  And I sat and weeded around their old home after they were gone (yes I left the weeds while they were here so they'd have something to eat) I kept thinking, thinking about how the same goodness grows both the good and the "bad".  Doesn't it?

And what about me?  How do I handle the sun shining down on me?  What do I do when it's too hot too many days in a row and I just can't breath?  What about when the rains come washing down so hard that I can't see in front of me at all and I don't know which way to turn?  How do I handle all of it?  I went to bed that night feeling like I didn't know anything at all.  Only that somehow I still knew that God is good, but how do I make sense of it all?

The next morning I woke to this....

 The cardinal flowers that I had waited all summer for, finally blooming, showing their brightness in the morning sunshine!

 A yellow finch husking sunflower seeds like an old man does peanuts....

(His eye on the sparrow?)

 And boys.  Boys making pancakes.  (note the storm trooper "flipper")  Boys that greet each day with a freshness that is contagious.  (Morning by morning new mercies I see...)

 And then later in the week....the boy who all last summer and this season too...just couldn't find the courage to join in at soccer, yet desperately wanted to go each time.  Such a struggle, maybe more for the mama than the boy.  And finally, as if I was the most forgetful of all children, finally after many many times of struggling with this...I mumble this weak prayer to the one who fixes hearts...(please help him, Lord) and then the very next time...this!  Out there the whole game!  Smile on his little brown face!

Perhaps we manage all of this crazy goodness by just accepting the Grace?  With open hands.  And we keep going.  Trusting that our ship will come to no harm that He doesn't have providence over.  That no struggle will be too big for Him to guide us through.  That even though we don't always understand, we can trust that He is good.  He is love.  We are loved.

Snapshot

We've had good days these past few.  Family from afar to play with, to eat with, to just be with.  So good that the boys are beaming still, even after they are gone.  Such a blessing to spend time with them.  And also, for little old me, at some point afterward I just feel like I need a good long nap. :)  Anytime I spend a chunk of time with people really, I find I need to have some time to recharge.  Ideally alone time is what I want.  Time to sit on the bed and watch the sky through the maples bare branches just now showing buds.  Time to read and soak up what my soul needs.  Time to meander through the yard and see what is peeking up through the dirt just now.  (although there is still some snow out there from this late storm)

And it is not what the boys need.  After being with people they want me. :)  To tell their stories to.  To snuggle them in.  To read with and sit with and laugh with.  I love it that they want me.  But you see how the timing is just not what my own little self would want at that particular moment.

And honestly, my own little self, can be not so little about it.  I can be downright grumpy if I dwell on me and myself, you know?  I've been more aware of how just shifting my focus to them and their little faces and hands and selves makes me much less grumpy when alone time is what I crave.

And today I chose them.  And it felt so good.  The boy asked me to cut him an apple just when I was thinking of myself, and at first I sighed and felt the old selfishness rise up within me.  His reaction caught me off guard.  He noticed right away what I was struggling with and said, "It's okay mom, you don't have to cut it up.  I'll just eat it whole."

And I had this snapshot flash in my mind's eye.  Of my grandma peeling apples by the kitchen sink, big oak ivy hanging in the window that overlooked the barn.  All the peel in one big circle and how she fed me slices graciously even though she was filling a pie.  And her fingers peeling, peeling and cheeks all wrinkled like great maps of rivers and all the love that was given to me in those slices of apples.

I flash back to his little face.  I grab the moment quick to make sure the connection stays close.  "You know what? I'd love to peel you an apple!"  And I get one, all green and yellow and I sit down plate in my lap.  And for a moment I am struck by how beautiful the green apple is in my lap, black skirt setting it apart.   I see my own hands peel and I wonder if he'll remember the shape of my fingers and the peeling just for him.  He sits next to me and offers me a slice.  We grin at each other.

After he leaves the room, all filled up, another picture flashes in my mind.  It's not photo-like, more of a sketch of me.  Me sitting peeling the apple and how the beauty isn't of the green apple and the black skirt and purple socks, light shining through the window, but of me dying to self and being filled up with God's love.  And it's like God says to me...this is what makes you beautiful.  This is what I see.  This is what I will remember.

I am humbled by this, and have more opportunities all afternoon to practice it.  The lesson is life long and runs deep.  And I want to learn it more.  And, well, that's all really.

The New Couch

Do you remember this post from way back when?  You know, the one where I tell you about getting rid of our old couch?  Well, J's back is much better for it, but I'll openly admit that my temper had a rough time with the whole thing.  I won't give you any excuses, because...well...I was being selfish and impatient.  But I will say, that it was back in January when we got rid of that old couch, and we sat on the floor for two months before I finally moved the old daybed in.  

Now, the daybed is not quite as bad for J's back as the couch, but it's not comfortable and it only seats three.  As you know, there are six in our family, so inevitably someone (or several someones actually) have been sitting on the floor for a good three months now.  And for the record, the daybed belonged to my grandmother who died when I was thirteen.  So if that tells you at all, what kind of shape it's in.....

And here's the thing....all of this really shouldn't have been a big deal.  I mean, people in other countries sit on the floor all the time.  We have a warm house.  And blankets and the ability to keep the floor clean and dry.  Yet, everyday I found myself getting grumpier and grumpier about there being no real furniture in our living room.  And the grumpier I got, the more entitled I started to feel.  I started thinking about how we have never boughten furniture since we've been married more than ten years ago.  How we really should have furniture so we can have people over and they will feel comfortable.  How my children should be able to have a clean, comfortable place to sit.  

And you know what?  All of those thoughts really are just a big charade for my pride.  Because wasn't me wanting other people to be comfortable really about how embarrassed I felt when a friend was here and instead of sitting on our "couch of blankets" (where we sat everyday) she dragged a chair from the other room so she could sit down?  I admit I felt humiliated.  But I wouldn't have felt that way, if I was really interested in her being comfortable would I have?  Really.  It just all boils down to me thinking I deserve nice furniture because of my pride.

And somehow, while I was scanning Craigslist for furniture, I realized that it is the same lesson that I have been learning over and over again these past few years.  Yes.  The lesson about not having a bath tub and feeling entitled.  The lesson about not having kitchen cabinets or a sink that doesn't leak and feeling entitled.  And I wonder....what have I missed that I keep having to learn this over and over again?

And this time through....this same lesson....I see God at work in me more.  I was more willing to wait until J was ready to spend the money.  I was still impatient at times, yes, but I was much better than I have been before.  I prayed about it and waited to see what God had for us.  I waited.  And waited.  

Then finally, two days ago we spotted on Craigslist this sectional for a very small amount of money that was very close to what we had been looking for and J said, "Yes! Let's get it!"  So I went through all the communications with the seller and set everything up for delivery, only for the man to never call us back and disappear entirely.  I was so disappointed.  But only for a minute!  Because, the very same day another sectional was listed and this time it was exactly what we wanted and even though we were not the first ones to reply to the ad, the woman picked us.   Today J went to pick it up and it just barely fit into our van.  After much effort we got it through the skinny old front door and voila!  Our new couch.

 There's actually a spot for everyone in the family and then some!  It's so fantastic!

And it's clean and nice and the kids love it.  We all sat on it before bedtime tonight and J read aloud to us.

And the lesson?  Well....all I can say is that I can see more clearly these days, how God takes care of us. I know to some people all these things seem like coincidences, but I choose to believe that it is The Shepherd leading us to good things.  I hope the next time this lesson comes round to be able to trust even more, and as a result to just rest peacefully during the waiting....knowing that it will all work out somehow for our good and for His purpose.

All I need

Still writing it down.  All the gifts.  Taking notice.  Awakening to God's love, and seeing, really seeing that I've been given all that I need.

 White roses opening, opening.  Sweet smell fills the air.  Given in love from my husband.  Ever giving to me in so many ways.

 Owl's little hands scooping seeds for the birds.

Walks with my boys.

Arms to hold them.  Hands to wipe noses and dry tears.

The purple teapot.

New bird feeders.

Sleep.  Cozy bed.  J's warmth.

Clean water.  Bath tub to hold them all.  Splashes, laughter, brothers.

From Where I've Come

Thirty five years ago on Valentine's Day, I met my family for the first time.  My mother, the one who grew me up, and my Father, the one who was there, came to meet me at my foster home.  My foster parents had many children living with them.  They waited until the children came home from school to say goodbye to me before they gave me away.  I was loved.

 My family met me that day and they didn't know what they were in for.  They loved me anyway.  When my mom tells me the story of meeting me that day she always says, "I remember thinking how pretty you were and how lucky we were to have such a pretty baby."  (or something very close to that)

 When I was pregnant with my first baby, it happened in February.  Very close to the day that my own mother, the one who carried me in her belly, would have conceived me.  My belly grew, and I thought of her.  Her belly carrying me.  Her giving me her life for those long months.  And I wondered about it.  I wondered what she thought.  What she did.  Did my kicks bring her joy?  Grief?  Wonder? Fear?

I have had seasons of wanting to know more.  Wanting to know where I have come from.  The story.  The reasons, perhaps?  I've wondered if the reasons would really matter.  I mean, when it comes right down to it, I think maybe it doesn't really matter.  The past can be like that sometimes.  At least in my experience.

Recently I read a story of a woman whose name has shaped her life.  It's meaning has given her meaning.  And I was thinking about how we name our children so carefully.  And thinking too, that I wonder if God has His own names for us.  Secret names that no one knows but Him and us.  We have forgotten them now, as if it were a dream perhaps.  But when we see Him in heaven maybe He will call us by our real names and it will be like we suddenly remember who we really are.  I like to think that.

Anyway, I got to thinking that I wonder what the real meaning of my name is.  So I looked it up.  My name, the one my birth mother gave me was Trisha Marie.  And my name, the one my mom gave me, is Rebecca Jean.

Trisha means "of noble birth".
Marie means many things. "sea of bitterness", "rebelliousness", and "wished for child"
Rebecca means "a snare"
and Jean means "God is gracious"

When I learned of this it really mattered to me.  The name my birth mother gave me, "of noble birth".  "rebelliousness and wished for child".   I don't know the story of why I was given up for adoption....but I do know this.  God had a plan for me.  I'm so grateful to the woman who carried me.  I'm so glad she gave me life.

Rebecca means "snare" and I have to honestly admit that it has been a snare to me.  Being adopted is wonderful.   Or at least it has been for me.  My parents are amazing.  They have loved me deep, and let me tell you, that has not always been easy.  Despite this, truthfully, a baby can not be separated from the mother who carried her without knowing.  I believe I knew when I left her.  My mom, the one who grew me up, used to tell me that when I was a baby I used to always sleep with my hands clenched tightly into fists.  And she would always love me up and hold me and rock me to try to settle me down.  And I was not a cuddly baby.  I just wanted to be set down.  Little baby fists clenched to the world.  Yes, it's been a snare.  A wonderful, life saving, loving experience, but still I've been tripped up by it.

And Jean.  "God is gracious".  Yes.  He is.  I know little else.  I had a dream once, shortly after J and I were married, where my grandmother and my mother were in our old house with me.  And I was crying at them and asking them why life had to be this way.  With all of the trouble and heartache that comes.  Why is life so messy I cried?  And they both said, these things have happened so that you would be strong.  And I woke up just sobbing.  My loving husband was so startled by my crying that he actually sat straight up in bed and hit me.  For real.  Punched me on the arm.  Apparently he thought he was being assaulted.  We still laugh about that.

These are my thoughts this Valentines Day.  Love.  Grace.  No matter where you've come from.  So that you can be strong.

Thoughts on a Snowy, Feverish Night

Some days are challenging for the mother person over here.  I really love these boys, this man, this house....this life.  I am so glad to be here, alive and well, and able to work and think and love.  I see my mothering as an opportunity to show these little people and this man how very much I love them.  It's so practical, isn't it?  Every time I choose to serve them (think...wipe a nose or bum or do another load of laundry) and I serve willingly I find a joy that awakens me in a way I have never known before.  It's really so cool and even though I am the one experiencing it, it is somehow not of me and I know this to be true.

Today just when things were getting challenging....a sudden feverish boy....an afternoon slipping away from me with nothing really "done" (i'm working on a deep clean of the house)....the littlest boy crying, crying, crying and me not being able to figure out what he needs.... I walked around my kitchen with no real purpose thinking how I wish my mother were here to help me.   Or how I would just like to complain to someone, as if that would help me.

Just then, I looked out the big kitchen window and saw a mother deer and two fawns walking through the gently falling snow.  They visited our grape vines looking for any little bits of goodness to nibble and then over to the evergreens to graze on the tops.  It was so calming to see them, and I felt reminded of the story of how God takes care of even the sparrow.  And how He knows the number of hairs on my head.  And I told Him how I felt about the fever and the cleaning and the crying and the no supper ready and I felt much better.   I watched the snow fall and He set me right again.  And each time my faith is encouraged like that it grows deeper and more certain and the work gets easier and the joy deeper.

The boys are settling in for the night.  Papa's reading stories to the little nodding heads.  I'm going to conquer the laundry and the dishes and the bookshelf that needs some help.
G'night, friend.
-reba

The Toothpick

A few days ago something happened. To my toe. Involving a sharp, sturdy toothpick. Yeah. And while I don't believe in making friends endure frequent stories about mishaps with toes, I wanted to share with you something rather incredible about the story. So here goes.

It all started with a normal afternoon. Lunch was relaxing. Hen was upstairs in his cozy little bed trying to catch a nap. I had just let the boys outside in the side yard (where I can watch their playing through the windows) to catch some sunshine. I was taking some clean laundry upstairs to put it away when Hen started screaming. So I quickened my pace up the steps to see what was wrong. And on my way down the hallway I stepped on it. The toothpick. Not just one toothpick actually, but two tied together with a rubberband to make a cross shape. I live in a house with little boys, so don't be surprised that this creation existed okay?

Now you must understand that although I live in a house with legos and therefore am used to looking out where I step, the baby was screaming! And I admit I wasn't looking where my feet were, I just was looking toward the boy. And I stepped on it. Or perhaps kicked it? I don't know exactly. But it went into the side of my big toe, right through my thick sock. I didn't even feel it at first. That's how deep it was. And the baby was still screaming so of course I went and took care of him first before I looked down to see what happened to my foot.

Then I saw it. The toothpick, sticking out through my wool sock. And I admit I freaked out a bit on the inside. Um, wow. Through my sock. And ouch! It was starting to hurt. And shoot! The baby was still screaming. I decided to hobble over to the bathroom to grab a rag. Then I hobbled over to the phone just in case. The upstairs phone was not working, the battery was too low.

I hobbled down the steps. (Baby still screaming in his bed upstairs) Checked on the boys out the window. (still fine) Grabbed the phone and sat down. Phew. Now what? I didn't know what to do. It seemed too deep to pull out, but I couldn't tell for sure because of the sock. But I couldn't get the sock off because of the toothpick. I tried to pull it a bit, but it hurt and it was definitely in there. It wasn't bleeding at all, which actually freaked me out. I kept thinking that when I pulled it out it was going to gush. I decide to call J at work.

Now, I'm not sure what I was thinking but J works twenty minutes away. And he is awesome, but not the kind of person who is going to talk you through pulling a toothpick out of your foot over the phone. (I should've called Audrey) He heard me say "impaled with a toothpick" and laugh with a nervous, crazy laugh. He said, "I'm coming" and hung up the phone. Shoot! Now what? I tried calling him back, but there was no answer. So now, I either had to wait twenty minutes or find someone else to pull this thing out. I couldn't do it myself. I just couldn't.

I decide to call the boys inside because I don't know what else to do. They come in get one look at the toothpick and start asking a million questions. *sigh* I decide to call my neighbor. His business is next door and he's a practical kind of guy. And I taught him voice lessons so we know each other fairly well. His secretary answers the phone. I ask if he's with a client. Yes. I rattle off something about the toothpick and how I just need someone to pull it out. Could he stop by after his client. The secretary freaks out a bit, and then suddenly my neighbor is at the front door.

He walks over to me, sitting with the rag and the phone and the toothpick, on the kitchen floor. The boys all around me. He leans over and says, "What? That thing?" and pulls the toothpick out without warning in one, strong tug. I didn't even have a chance to cringe. It was over. The hole where it had been immediately swelled shut and it only bled a little. The end.

Now here is the crazy part. I was traumatized about the toothpick for more than a day. My foot really hurt every time I took a step. I kept imagining the toothpick stuck through my sock and it freaked me out. I kept talking about it to J. He was patient with me, but eventually said. "Honey, you are really traumatized. How come?" I didn't know the answer to this.

That night we were preparing for Badger's birthday party and I was up rather late. My foot was hurting so much. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself by this point and I decided to pray about my foot. It was something like this..."Father, my foot hurts" * a few sorry, tears falling at this point* "Why do things like this always happen? Why do I have to stay up so late getting ready for this party when my foot hurts?"

He didn't answer at first. He let me go through that night, working on all the preparations, struggling with my emotions and toe. But later the next day I heard Him. He said something like this. "Why did it take you so long to ask me for help dear one? Why did it take you so long to turn to me?" And I realized that during the "incident" I never once prayed. I never asked Him to guide me or heal me. I never asked him for strength to pull the toothpick out. I could have asked Him. He cares about everything that happens to me. (and to you, friend) He wants us to believe Him. Believe that He cares. That He is with us, helping us and guiding us in this life. And yet, I often times am so short sighted that I just hobble along on my own strength. Even when I'm not doing very well. Even when I have a toothpick sticking out through my sock.

It's not that I think God would've miraculously fixed my toe. What would the purpose in that be? But, rather that in moments of my day, I can either choose to acknowledge my dependence on Him as my Father and Lord, or I can choose to struggle through on my own. And one thing I know, that when I choose in the little things (and big things too) to trust, to abide in Him, to acknowledge that I believe He is with me in a real way....then and only then do I have peace that circumstances can not upturn.

I'm working on living this out today as the boys are sick.... and wheezing and asthma is proving to be more than I can bear on my own. So I leave you with my story, as I go to practice relying on Him. Perhaps you can learn through my toothpick experience...so you don't have to have your own. :)

The Promise of Growth

Today while the older boys were at Homeschool Co-op, the two littler boys and I planted bulbs. Tulip bulbs, and daffodils, and grape hyacinths (my favorite), and those beautiful, brave little crocuses that pop up on a sunny day even if there is still snow. We had lots of fun. Digging the holes was great fun. Hen was delighted to find worms and not at all afraid to pick them up. (all my other boys are) Owl was a great little helper, watering them all in place after covering them up with dirt for their long sleep.

We found tree roots while digging, since we were planting under our big, tall Maples. So we got to talk about roots and how they are the strength of the tree. We talked about bulbs and how they wait until Spring to start growing and how beautiful the new growth will be after a long Winter. It was great.

I just love how God designed bulbs to have everything they need to grow in that one little package and how they know to wait until the conditions are right before they start the process. Every time I plant one I am reminded of the beauty that comes in Spring. It is such a hopeful time to look forward too, even now as we enjoy the beauty of Change that Fall brings. God is good....and Steadfast. His creation tells us of Himself. I'm so glad of that.

Thoughts

You can always count on me to try an experiment. Yep. Unless it involves eating something weird. Or hugging someone. And yes, I'm sorry I don't like hugging, but for goodness sake I can't help it. I do try.....and am getting better about it a little perhaps? Anyway.....

Experiments. I like experiments. I like trying new ideas out to see if they work. I like making do with what I have (for the most part) because it awakens this feeling of adventure within me. I like systems. I like trying to figure out how to make plans be more effective. Yep. I do.

Unfortunately for those around me (ahem...my poor husband) I like to think through experiments and what is effective and what isn't and how can I make it better? far too much. And often times, my ideas make more work for those around me. It's true. Sorry J. You are a trooper and I'm so glad you like most of my ideas. (unless it involves moving the furniture yet again...)

Anyway....I've been thinking about how I spend the day and how I can fit more in and do more things that I want to do and spend more time with my kids...yadda yadda yadda. Isn't that what most homeschooling moms think about from time to time? Ok...perhaps we think about it often. Well, I do. But you know me... I have a thinking problem.

Lately though, I've been realizing more and more two important things.....

Are you ready?

1. I don't have to finish everything and have a clean house and a cooked meal and bathed, well-mannered children by 6:00pm in order to consider my day a success.

I know. Most people already know this. And I thought I did too, but then I realized that I knew it, but I didn't really believe it. I didn't feel successful unless everything was done and everything all smooth and pretty. And it was slowly driving me mad. Ugh.

So yesterday I tried an experiment.....

I let myself work most of the day, while spending time with the boys. We picked apples, we read books, we played outside, we baked, we cooked, we snuggled, we cleaned the house, we walked the dog....and other things too. But then at 4pm, even though there was a mountain of laundry to be folded and floors to be vaccuumed still...I stopped. Yep. Just stopped. I put in a show (Doc Martin. Do you know it? It's so funny!) I sat down and did some knitting. It was great! I did this for about an hour and when J came home I was refreshed! Whoa!

I did this again today and I do believe it's my new thing. I'm going to work until a certain time and then I'm going to take a break. I'm going to allow myself some time for work and some time for play and some time for rest each day. It feels great....and I'm sure it's sound advice because it's just what Marmee would do.

and .....

2. The success of my day should be measured by what I have cultivated in the hearts of my children.

Do I need to say more about this? I dunno. I guess, for me, I need to be more aware of my interactions with the boys and make sure that my thoughts and actions toward them are well seasoned with Grace. I want them to see God's grace in me.

I fall pretty short of this sometimes. But I know that God is faithful in helping me. I know that He is kind and patient and always willing to help me try again.

And today Badger prayed at the dinner table thanking God for the new Lego magazine. And I'm so glad about that. It might sound silly, but I'm glad that my boy is learning that God cares about our little things too!

Harvest

This past weekend we harvested more things growing on this beautiful land we've been given.

Black-eyed Susans growing near the house....

We picked pears. So many pears this year! Hurray! These few bags were barely a third of what was on the tree! I'm hoping to can them sliced, and also make pear sauce and pear butter. Pear butter on fresh biscuits. Yum!

We brought the onions in now that they are finished curing and the boys helped clean them up for storage.
I was reminded while watching them about a valuable lesson an older lady friend of mine once taught me. She told me that we are like onions. We have lots of layers. And that we should never compare ourselves and our struggles and daily learnings to others and what they are going through, because it is very likely we are not on the same layer. We are not all at the same layer in our learning and growing. But take heart, the Lord is gentle and good and he peels us away only as we are willing and most importantly He sustains us through it! I am glad to be in His gentle hand and I pray that I am always willing to go to the next layer so that I can love and serve others in a deeper more useful way. That is my prayer for you too, friends. :)

off to spend some time with my J....

g'night.

-r

Conversations

This past weekend we released Lavendar Brown. It was time. Before Cricket let her go he was able to hold her. (we hadn't handled her much, because it seemed stressful for her) He picked her up and held her in both hands so very gently. Just like a pro. I was so impressed with how able he is. How full of concentration and confidence. It makes my heart swell just thinking of it now. When he set her down in the grass he watched her a bit and then turned to me and said, "Mom, that was exhilirating!" Awesome! Awesome to see him shine like that. :)

Then Little Owl started crying and crying. Weeping, in fact. It surprised me because he seemed okay with letting her go until of course it was too late. He said, "Mama, it is so sad to let a friend go." I know, honey. I held him close for awhile and although he was still upset Papa was able to get him interested in something else to divert his attention. He has talked about it a little bit since then, but also seems to understand that she needed to be free.

Then today, after Hen's nap. Hen was walking around playing and talking. He came over to me, pulled on my skirt as if to say, come down here! and then.....when I sat down, he snuggled in my lap and said, "Hi! How are you?!" I haven't giggled like that in a long time. Thank you Hen for caring about how I am. :)

There have been some other really great conversations lately. I can't recall them just now. I'm really glad though that the boys tell us things. They talk to us. It's just so good. I feel like it's a special reward for keeping our family's time and home open, free, and quiet. (all somehow wrapped up together) Knowing when to say no, when to say yes! and when to just take time to figure it out has helped us so much. And God is blessing us for it. Seek and you will find.

These Past Few Days

Sometimes something happens....I can't precisely say what the something is.....usually for me it is a series of circumstances and a stirring of my heart and the result is part of me is awakened and I see things clearly.  I love it when this happens, and I admit that it usually has very little to do with anything that I am doing.  Perhaps even it happens despite me.

I used to think that the "seeing clearly" was the point of it all.  Then for awhile I thought, "well it really means nothing if seeing clearly doesn't change anything....if it doesn't change me..." Perhaps to some extent this is true.

But this time, a few days ago, the something happened again.  It started with a day of chaos with the boys, some hormones, and a messy house. (stirring begins) Then a phone call from a friend sharing with me something about parenting that hit home. (more stirring) Then a little bit of feeling sorry for myself which left me more unsettled still.  

Then that night I stumbled upon this blog.  Bring the Rain.  I can't even begin to tell you the circumstances of this woman's life and yet the circumstances aren't even the most important part of the story.  I read her blog (a little more stirring) and her story changed me.

And I realized that it isn't about seeing clearly, or about waking up and changing to be better, it is about the relationship with God, the One who awakens me.

(i'm sorry if mentioning this makes you uncomfortable.  but if you are my friend, then you would want to know what is important to me, right?  i'm hoping this is so anyway...)

Also in the past few days...we got a new camera! Hurray! and a new french press! hurray, hurray! And I had some nice time with the boys...them playing and me watching them and talking with them while I knit.  And we made eggrolls.  Mom's recipe.  Which means, since I did it all by myself this time, that I am officially an adult.  ha ha!  Check out these pics.