Some things I like about the North Country:

1. lots and lots of grass
2. small-town parades
3. walking to church on Sunday mornings
4. breezes that smell like flowers and BBQs
5. friendly neighborhood folk

Some things I don't like about the North Country:

1. boneless skinless chicken breasts costing more than $3/lb
2. caterpillars being EVERYWHERE!
3. 85% humidity and no AC
4. restaurants being closed on Sundays
5. motorcycles driving past our house 100 times a day

It's been time to post pictures for a while, so I'll make up for my failure to be consistent by overloading you now! First we'll start with shots from our trip yesterday to the playground I played at when a little girl:

Bronwyn's first solo trip down a slide!


Gabriel--the pro.


Fun on the swings:




Bronwyn peeking through a cubby-hole.

And here are some pictures from our day today:

We picked up Camilla and Merrick and all stood in the bright sun to watch a Memorial Day Parade!


Gabriel clapped for every single thing that went by.

The fam, after the ceremony at the gazebo ended:


Gabriel running through the sprinkler at Nana & Papa's. Great fun!


Bronwyn--cute as ever!


Our newest friend and latest home addition:


The yummy (is that prideful since I made it?--I'm just being honest!) dessert we all shared. The meal was great, too, but Daniel didn't take any pictures of that, so I can't share.

And this picture, just because I really want to show you all that this activity takes place at least once daily:

Baby-doll reading hour with Mommy Bronwyn.

That's all for now! Hope everyone had a wonderful day--and if you haven't taken a moment to thank God for those who have laid down their lives so that we could celebrate, please do so. Give honor where honor is due!

Why is it that there are times when you spend a day--a good day--surrounded by people, and yet you still feel left behind, forgotten, and so alone?

I don't know our summer house-guest all-together too well yet. We're still in the initial stages of familiarity. I know that she likes taking long walks, if there isn't exercise equipment and a fitness center such as one might find at their university around. I know that she doesn't eat a lot of the foods we do--like milk and cheese--and not because she's allergic; rather, she eats this way because she tries to be healthy. I also know that she can talk like she's from Minnesota, and she talks like this fairly often.

One thing I know for sure is that our house-guest likes shoes. She has red ones and turquois ones and polka-dotted ones and so on. Suddenly, my children can be found putting on whatever pair of shoes she's left near the door and pretending they're "Kelly" several times a day. At first I was wondering why they are doing this with her shoes when they've never done it with mine. But, let's be honest, if you were 21 months or 3 years old, would you rather play with Mom's brown oxfords or Kelly's pink sequined slides?

To be even more honest, I wouldn't mind putting on Kelly's shoes either. Unfortunately for me, we don't wear the same size. So I'm stuck with my practical yet boring black and brown leather options.

Oh--and the green flip-flops I splurged and bought for Easter.

Even John the Baptist wondered if his life investments had been poor. The man who had been confident of his purpose and that he was fulfilling Old Testament prophecy had questions and doubts.

Are You the One?

In other words: Have I wasted my time? Does my life--my drink offering--really matter? Did I totally foul up my entire existence?

Last night I was being plagued with worries. Wondering if putting all my eggs in one basket (namely: giving my best time and energy and output to my children) is going to matter in the end.

Is this really You, Lord?

I think I know a bit more why we as Americans "dabble" in so many things. We fear that at the end of our investment, we'll have nothing to show for it; and if we have the excuse of "divided attention," it won't seem as bad. If John the Baptist hadn't spent his entire life--maybe just part of it, instead--proclaiming the way of Jesus, perhaps he wouldn't have had such deep doubts and questions when there didn't seem to be a whole lot to show for it.

Should I look for something else, Lord?

Jesus answered and said to them, "Go and report to John what you hear and see: the blind receive sight and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor have the Gospel preached to them. And blessed is he who does not take offense at Me. --Matthew 11:4-6

I didn't even watch Tuesday night.

I did watch last night, but talked with husband and friends through most of the show. In my opinion, it was very anti-climactic and dull. C'mon. Taylor might be entertaining for a while, but nobody wants to hear the guy's voice on an entire CD. Especially since the first recording he'll get is a ballad and his weakness is ballads.

For some really good music, go here. I hope Elliot makes a recording. I would buy it. And enjoy it. And share it with friends.

I particularly recommend a listen to Moody's Mood For Love. Really, really good. So is It Had To Be You.

Jackson's visit to the doctor:

* Jack weighs 14.5 lbs, which puts him just under the 50th percentile. He has gained 3.5 lbs (almost) in 7 weeks; he's averaging .5 lb gain/week. An ideal baby! What more can any doc anywhere ask for?!?!

* Dr. McCloy wrote that Jack is 65" in my note to bring to the next WIC appointment. I think she meant 65 cm. Either that, or she thought they wanted my height.

* When I asked about why Jack's spitting-up has only gotten worse of late and if there was anything I should do, I was rather dreading the answer. I'm a little selfish--for those of you who didn't already know my kinship to the human race--and the idea of altering my diet isn't something that thrills me. Sure, I'll do it if need be, but it's not something I want to do. Fortunately for me, Dr. McCloy told me that she thinks he just tends to regurgitate more than some babies, and it's most likely that nothing I might do would really help. YES! [said like Kip in Napoleon Dynamite.]

* The appointment was on Monday afternoon. It ruined Jack's afternoon nap that day and we have been feeling the repurcussions of this into today. After not napping all day long yesterday, he finally fell asleep at 6:30pm. This meant that he woke up at 10:30pm and didn't go back to sleep until after midnight--for the first time in his entire existance. I think it may take a while for me to get over being annoyed that our family pracitce only does pediatric appointments in the afternoon.

* Never before have I been so thankful for the paper they lay over the exam table. The one Jack was using smelled like... well... urine. Yuck.

* All in all, Jack is healthy and growing. (Like we didn't all know that.) And from here on in I no longer feel guilty about reducing his visits to the minimum required by WIC. For a baby who isn't getting immunizations yet, he sure has seen the inside of our doctor's office a whole lot.

Things To Do:

1. Get back to memorizing Scripture. The infrequency of large chunks of time for reading the Word make this practice all the more necessary for me. I also want to get Gabriel memorizing.

2. Make a plan for being more intentional with my children. Far too many days end with me feeling as though I never quite got ahead them.

3. Find unique ways to bless my children. I mentioned Robert Andrews' book The Family in a recent post. One of the things he talks about the need for us, as parents, to be good givers--like our Father. I want to heap good things upon my children, especially as they grow in their obedience and submission to me.

4. Update my weekly breakdown of chores. Life with three children is settling into a norm, and now I can better determine what the adjusted needs and demands of our family are.

5. Begin increasing my [newly-established] daily exercise regimen. So far, so good--but there are higher heights! I want to be around for my grandkids!

6. Start taking five minutes six times daily to stop and give thanks. I want to be purposeful in my gratitude so that 1) He will be honored and 2) the right things will be brought into focus throughout my days.

Spirituality must and will take on praciticality.

Are the daily rituals of my life offered up as a worship to Him? Are the practicals of my days looking like Jesus? Do the things the world sees--the simple, usual things--point to my Master?

Keep your behavior excellent among the Gentiles, so that in the thing in which they slander you as evildoers, they may because of your good deeds, as they observe them, glorify God in the day of visitation.  --1 Peter 2:12

Things I've learned today:

1. Mel-chlors potty-train much differently than san-phlegs.

2. I shouldn't expect my less-than-ambitious daughter to be more prococious than her "oldest child" brother.

3. It would be wise to leave potty-training for the day when Bronwyn can say more than variations of "Eesh."

4. Though a child might hate wearing a diaper, she just might have to a while longer.

5. The transition to a "big" bed should take place before potty-training.

6. There's always tomorrow!


The day Gabriel first wore training pants was also the last day he ever wore a diaper--of any sorts. (I never did the pull-ups thing.) He was 2 and a 1/2 years old, extremely verbal, and relentlessly attentive to details. All this combined to make potty-training a relative cinch.

OK. As much of a cinch as potty-training can be.

We gave it a go with Bronwyn today, though she is only 21 months old, says no more than a handful of words, and is generally very easy-going. She hates diapers and is often found trying to remove the one she's wearing. She also understands a great deal more than she can repeat. Add to that a large amount of curiousity surrounding Gabriel's bathroom habits, and I thought maybe we could make the potty thing work.

Well, we probably could.

But it would take a lot of work on my part and a lot more days of training than I have available to put in.

When Bronwyn, immediately following an accident at 5:15pm, ran to her potty and clapped her hands excitedly (as I had done when she had used the potty a grand total of one time earlier in the day), I decided she just isn't getting it. I had two options: push through and spend way too much time on potty-training, or call it a day and wait a few months.

Seeing as how I have a 3-year-old and a 4-month-old besides Bronwyn, an upcoming month full special events and out-of-town trips, major projects that will soon begin around our house, and a husband's summer given to people in Spain, what do you think I decided to do?

I am potty-training Bronwyn, and am not quite sure how it's going.

That's all I have time to write.

For some thoughts that are very good, go here. I, too, am meditating.

Last night Daniel and I talked. About our children.

And we reminded ourselves--via some Robert Andrews' The Family and dreaming about the future--of the bigger picture.

Without a doubt, I don't want my children to fight with each other. Neither do I want them to yell at me, or get off their beds at naptime, or throw their broccoli on the floor, or be stingy with their belongings--not that any of these things ever happen in our house, of course.    My children need to respect and fear Daniel and I as authorities, but not just so that we aren't afraid to take them out in public or so that life here in the home is peaceful. The serenity and joy that comes with obedience to me, as Mom, is not the goal, but a by-product. There is something much greater than wanting polite and kind
children that needs to be the motivation and continual focus of our
child-training.

Really, they need to understand authority so that they will eventually respond to His authority.

Then we talked about discipline--about how to make sure we are making the most of correction moments to teach; and about the challenges of molding character without destroying our children. Like wild stallions, Gabriel and Bronwyn (and, before I know it, Jack) need to be broken, but not to the point that they won't run. Oh!--never that, Lord! I want them to run, and I want them to run hard and far.

But I want them to run for the Master.

We talked about these things, we were overwhelmed by these things, and we prayed about these things and for our children. It's too much for us, but it's not too much for Him.

Do you know the Muffin Man,
The Muffin Man,
The Muffin Man?
Do you know the Muffin Man;
His name is Jackson Edward!

I finished singing to Jack as I buzzed around the kitchen putting things away--my mind in a million different places--and then it hit me: I am my mom!

Bronwyn sporting eye-liner (This shot doesn't show her very drawn-on hands and feet!)


The "secret" house (Don't tell them I gave it away!)


Jackson enjoying a hand-me-down toy (Does he have any that aren't hand-me-downs??? Ummm.... nope!)


Our [generally] happy guy!


Gabriel "reading" to Brownyn.


The soundtrack of my life...


Bronwyn "reading" to Baby Hannah in their favorite reading spot!


And, here is the bird's nest on our back deck. I've given strict instructions that no one is allowed to disturb it, though tonight when Daniel went out to grill (very briefly!), the mother bird was frightened away. She flew around frantically and made a lot of noise the entire time he was out there. I, personally, can't wait until the eggs hatch! How cool to watch this all unfold from my kitchen window!

It is a gray day, but perfect for lighting candles throughout the house and wrapping oneself in an old homemade blanket. Everyone is sleeping--including Daniel--and I am content, knowing that we are safe and secure and together. I don't take such things for granted quite as much these days.

Yesterday, I laid in the grass while Gabriel and Bronwyn played nearby. Overhead the beautiful purple buds of our surprise lilac tree (we hadn't realized what it was until its blooms gave it away) waved gently in the breeze against a backdrop of clear, clear blue. I love north country skies.

As a girl, I never thought I would be so imperfect a person. In my mind's eye, I was going to grow up and be wonderful at and through whatever He might set before me; I sincerely hoped His plans included being a mom. I imagined my children--children with big blue eyes and infectious grins and great personalities. In this, I have not been disappointed. But in myself, I encounter disappointment. Often.

My frailty is so clear to me. I come face to face with it constantly in my efforts and in my squanderings; in my children's faces when I hurt them; in my husband when I fail him; in my lack of devotion and in my wrong motivations; in my inconsistancies and in my instability.

I wanted to be perfect. To this day, I try relentlessly to be perfect.

This is not His way.

I saw myself never missing a beat. To this day, I try relentlessly to never miss a beat.

This is not His way.

I laid in the grass, and I took comfort. In my dreams, I needed to be amazing. That was the only way they would
succeed. But in His dreams, I needn't be.

He knew that I wouldn't be able to handle the children He gave me, so He joined me with a husband who makes our family work. He knew I would use harsh and angry words with my children, so He gave me the gift of repentance. He knew I would try to drown myself in the waters of self-pity, so He gave me His Truth. He knew... He knew.

His way is Jesus.

Type. Erase.

Try a few different words. Erase.

Think a few minutes. Type again. Erase.

It isn't that I don't have anything to write; it's that there's too much. My heart is full. I'm processing and being challenged and knowing blessing--all at the same time. There is such a surpluss of reflections and hopes and thoughts that my mind is jumbled and my fingers confused.

Just know that He is good--and that today my soul knows this very well.

Wake up and run out the door to a WIC appointment, travel mug in hand. Return home to a stinky house (reason #304 to potty-train Bronwyn) to wolf down some food before the day officially begins for me. Nurse the baby. Cut the nursing-session short because Gabriel is repeatedly calling for my help from the bathroom. Find that Bronwyn has helped herself to my eye-liner while I was nursing the baby and is covered with brown pencil marks. Stick the baby in his carseat so I can help Gabriel and then bathe the older two (that's how covered Bronwyn was, and they needed it anyway). Dry and dress the older two while the baby cries and cries--he's still hungry, after all. Turn PBS on to entertain the older two (and try not to feel guilty about already resorting to such measures) while I finish nursing the baby. Burp the baby and lay him down for his [late] morning nap. Throw a load of laundry in the washer. Track down sippy cups with the intention of filling them so Gabriel will stop whining about not having a drink and snack to go with his TV-time. Get distracted by how dirty the refrigerator shelves are, and wipe down the refrigerator. Light some candles in the kitchen because there is a rotten smell coming from the food disposal in the sink and it's too cold to open windows. Realize Gabriel is still crying about a drink, and fill the sippy cups that are sitting on the kitchen counter. Get socks for the kids, because I forgot to get them when I grabbed their clothes during bathtime.

*sigh*

Sometimes I feel like I run around and around for no true gain.

OK--a lot of times I feel like I run around and around for no true gain.

I have been struggling with not feeling frustrated or aimless. There is often a big part of me that resents the fruitlessness I feel as I go about my days, and I can't help but ask, "Why, oh why, does this have to be part of the curse?!"

But He has redeemed me, and He has given me the power to redeem the time--to seize the opportune moments that I happen upon [and regularly miss] throughout each and every day. When I am being busy and feeling hopelessly distracted from the "important" things, I am either doing just that and needing to direct my days rather than having my days direct me, or I am failing to see the long-term fruit that my efforts will one day produce.

Some days feel less productive than others. Some days I wonder if other people ever have days that feel as pointless as mine. (I know they do... but I don't, if you know what I mean.) Some days I cling to believing that no one's life is as meaningless as my own--because that gives me a right to self-pity, of course. Some days really do stink and I have to get past that.

Regardless, He hasn't called me to measure my effectiveness by another's production/ fruitfulness or lack thereof. He has given me a certain number of talents... responsibilities... challenges... resources. The real question is whether or not I am using them, and whether or not I am redeeming the time--seizing the opportune moments--He has allotted me.

More pictures. Guess I'm in picture-mode. And I'm proud of my kids; I think they're cute.

Jackson almost rolled over yesterday and again this morning. Since I am always forgetting that he's quickly approaching 4 months old, these developments take me rather by surprise.

The infamous "whale pants"


Watching Little Bear before heading to church. C'mon--it's all I can do to keep his church-clothes clean... cut me some slack!!!!


Can you see the tears still sitting in her eyes? Yeah--Sunday mornings are the same for most females!

Who would have thought new pajamas and a digital camera could be so much fun?!?!


(Jackson's growth has exploded of late!)

(Bronwyn is much more interested in the bugs than in picture-time!)


(Jackson has a true grin!)


(Big Brother is probably Gabriel's 2nd-favorite role; Drummer is definitely 1st!)

Three kids sleeping [at the same time]. A book. A blanket. Cookies and a glass of milk.

It is His grace, really, that keeps me going throughout the day.

But moments like this sure do prove to be great motivation, as well.

We (the kids and I) just returned from her house. She was there, and so was she. It was a really enjoyable morning--especially since the kids played outside most of the time and allowed for some conversation.

Before laying Gabriel and Bronwyn down for their afternoon naps just now, I asked Gabriel what he really liked about the morning.

The cookies, Mom. They were oatmeal and chocolate.

This seemed like quite the all-knowing response from a child who really doesn't know the ingredients of most anything, so I asked if Lael had told him that.

Yup.... She's my best girl, Mom.

Uh-oh.

This is my goal... once, of course, we've expanded our driveway and built the fence. 

I've never really done much gardening before, so I figured I'll begin with this--and not until next year (it's never to early to plan!)--and work on Phase II down the road.

I'm looking forward to making our yard pretty!

*Note: input is greatly welcomed!*

I want an eternal perspective.

I really, really do.

Yesterday, I found myself wondering why life is so full of good-byes. It stinks.

I am glad for the way good-byes lift my eyes heavenward, though. I find myself anticipating going home more and more, with every day I live here on earth. I long for heaven; for being with Him; for no more tears or sorrow; for ended pain and death; for complete peace and rest; for endless glory and awe.

And I am thankful that He has sent His Holy Spirit, as I cannot fathom walking through this life without Him.