I'm in a food snob mood.

Not familiar with this mood? Well, let me explain.

This mood involves, but is not limited to:

Getting annoyed with cooking on a budget. Thinking it obnoxious that I can't just buy every fresh herb that would make the dish a million times tastier. Annoyed with not following a recipe exactly as it's written. Wanting to try new things and wanting it be able to take all day, if need be. Not wanting to search for recipes based on the two most familiar criteria: low-cost and quick.

To combat my mood, I'm tallying up why I might as well stick with what I do and get over this "mood."

1. If I cook it, I'll eat it. And I'll "blow up like my Aunt Roberta," to quote a funny movie. (For the record, I don't have an Aunt Roberta.)
2. If I continue making black beans and chicken rice soup rather than the delicious looking recipes in this cookbook that sits on my shelf, I'll continue having money to spend on other much more worthwhile things.
3. I would quickly get tired of the new recipes, just as I get tired of anything I've done for a while.
4. My kids probably like the simple, familiar foods much better than they would the fancier, gourmet dishes.
5. There are more important things in life than what I get to eat.
6. I get to eat things that are a lot tastier and much more expensive than the majority of my counterparts around the world.

So, now that I've got that out of my system, here's a home video, rather hot off the press. This is an original composition, which is why Bronwyn's having a hard time following along. (Please excuse Bronwyn's hair not yet being done and Gabriel's hair so desperately in need of a haircut that he's beginning to sport a mullet.)

To Everything There is a Season

I wonder how this can both relieve and frighten me at the same time.

These last few days, as I have cleaned up vomit, changed awful diapers, coaxed little ones back to sleep, nursed the baby through excruciating pain, and washed bedding again and again and again, I have looked beyond today's present exhaustion and found consolation in the knowledge that this will not last forever...

...All the while, heart-broken because I know that I will not always be the one to lay a cool hand on the fevered brows, to hold her close when she cries in misery, to help distract from discomfort with books and songs and conversation. I am equally undone by the reality that this will not last forever.

These little bodies who get into mischief, cause me endless work, rarely give a moment's peace, and ask for my undivided attention are daily growing. And before I know it, they won't be coloring on the walls, dirtying countless diapers, singing and talking at the top of their lungs every waking moment, or begging me to play with them "just a few more minutes."

I try not to borrow sorrow; today has enough. Yet in my mind's eye I see down the road 10... then 20 years, and the tears that inevitably well in my eyes are good for me to feel running hot down my cheeks. They tell me that I ought not take this moment for granted. They tell me to love the season I'm in. They tell me that this day I'm living is worth living with every ounce of my being.

To everything there is a season.

I've no doubt the next season will be wonderful. I know God and I know that His promise is that the path of the just onlys grow brighter and brighter. But I've also no doubt that I only get this season I'm living once.

I don't want to just love it when I'm looking back on it, you know?

I want to love it today--runny noses, crying, cleaning, and all.

I've decided to enable Xanga Lock.

So if you want to read, I guess you'll have to be a "Friend."

I sent invitations to many of you. If you are subscribed to me, you should still get the e-mail digest; if you want commenting privileges, just ask to be my friend.

Today's Household News Update:

:: Gabriel spent the latter half of the night throwing up. This is the first time he's had the stomach bug and been old enough/in control of his reflexes enough to be able to restrain from vomiting, which I must tell you did not help any of us get any sleep since it just meant that every 15 minutes or so he was gagging and choking down vomit while Daniel and/or I tried to convince him to just let it up.

Fortunately, it has been almost 3 hours since he last vomited and so far none of the rest of us have followed suit. My close calls during the night were simply a result of my low tolerance of the smells associated with cleaning up.

:: Jackson ate his first Cheerios with milk today. I like to wait until around the 1st birthday to introduce much dairy to my children (other than what might be baked into a cake, bread, etc.), since there is evidence that waiting can, in most cases, reduce the likelihood of allergies related to a particular food.

[The earlier and more often
a food is ingested, the greater likelihood it has of becoming an allergen.
Babies tend to be most allergic to the foods they have been offered first.
While a baby is exclusively breastfed, he is only exposed to the foods
his mother eats and secretes in her milk, so his exposure to potential
allergens is minimized.]

He loved it.

:: The initial kitchenette install at 57 Market St is taking place this morning. I am so excited that things continue to progress forward there! Daniel is also hoping to get a look at a couch and loveseat that have been potentially donated to us to ascertain their condition. If they seem as though they have some years of wear left to them, and we'll order slipcovers for them ASAP and move them into the building.

:: While helping me fold laundry, Bronwyn asked me if I was going to fold Daddy's "box-its."

:: It is snowing the perfect snow right now. Light, fluffy flakes whirling in the air before landing on the already-snow-covered ground. I love it. And, yes, this is probably in large part because I don't have to go out in it.

But I don't. So I love it.

:: Jackson figured out some time ago where I store the cereal and crackers. Recently, he's figured out how to pull out the box of whatever looks good to him at the moment and help himself to the contents. My solution to this ever-messy and poor-diet problem? Purchasing cupboard latches.

The only problem with my brilliant plan is that Daniel's drill broke a couple months ago.

:: The thrush problems continue, though my Gentian Violet usage had to end. A friend has kindly mailed me some coconut oil, as well as some accompanying recipes, and I am very hopeful that boosting my overall health will aid in conquering my perpetual thrush battles.

Thrush has been, for me, the only downside to breastfeeding.

The past three days I have looked awful.

Really.

No make-up. Jeans that I don't care about getting stained. A men's size medium sweatshirt bought for camping at Cook Forest when 7 months pregnant with Bronwyn. And did I mention that I've worn the same clothes three days in a row now? (I think this might be a first in my life.)

The first day, I dressed and left my bedroom. I didn't see a reflection of myself until some hours later. Boy, I thought, I look baaaadd. But I quickly forgot.

By today, I can't forget. The image of dark circles under my eyes, unmasked as they usually are by concealer, won't leave even once I've walked away from the mirror. I am very aware of the absolute huge-ness of my sweatshirt. I wonder if I've ever seen a pair of jeans that need to be washed so that they fit again more than these that I'm wearing need washing. A couple glances at my reflection over the course of a couple days are enough to leave a lasting impression.

Now that I'm so aware, I find it strange that at first I could forget.

But, then again, I forget all the time.

James 1:23-25  For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks at his natural face in a mirror; for once he has looked at himself and gone away, he has immediately forgotten what kind of person he was. But one who looks intently at the perfect law, the law of liberty, and abides by it, not having become a forgetful hearer but an effectual doer, this man shall be blessed in what he does.

(Oh, and in case you were wondering, the Gentian Violet doesn't seem to be helping. Three days like this and it's still.not.working...

...Coconut Oil, here we come!)

Gabriel has recently turned a corner in his ability to play. Now, this might sound a little ridiculous since we all assume children play, but the assumption simply isn't true, I think particularly for the oldest child in any home. (They don't have the benefit of older siblings teaching them how to play and rely solely on Mom for such inspiration--which they can become sadly dependent upon, I have found.)

The unfortunate aspect of Gabriel's newly found imagination is the absolute mess he makes while playing. There is no longer a nicely set-up (thanks to Mom) Little People town; rather, every toy and book and throw pillow is used as part of the re-enactment of the story of Jericho. While trying to calmly eat my breakfast, I choke because there is suddenly an entire little kitchen set being hurled off the futon in the family room as the "walls" fall down.

Still, I'll take the mess and the chaos if it means my son is finally able to entertain himself (at something other than playing drums, that is) and is teaching his little sister how to play along with him.

* * * * *

I don't like being dirty. I never have.

Gentian Violet makes me feel that the whole house is a disaster waiting to erupt. I jump a mile when Jackson looks as though he is going to drool on the couch. My heart stops beating just before Jackson is done nursing. I sleep restlessly due to fear that I will wake to purple stains on my bedding. (Sorry, when you've only been married 5 years, you still don't have sheets you don't care about getting stained.)

This would be one of those situations when the cure almost seems worse than the disease.

Almost.

* * * * *

Ask her: I've never been the spontaneous sort. And this is why I am convinced my missing the ability to be spontaneous due to motherhood is simply selfishness at its highest. I mean, I never wanted to go out at midnight just to walk down Market Street before having children, so why do I suddenly crave such an outing? I feel like the little kid who only wants the toy because he can't have it.

You know the kind of kid I mean.

(If you're a mom, chances are your own children have had moments of being "that kind of kid.")

* * * * *

Last night Daniel was setting up his computer in bed to finish watching a DVD. I was planning on going to sleep and got to bed first.

According to Daniel, about 2 minutes into the DVD he turned to ask me if the noise and light was going to bother me. I was already asleep.

This confirms two things I've known about myself: 1. I can sleep anytime anywhere through anything, and 2. I really don't like watching movies that much.

The battle with thrush is not a new one around here.

The battle with thrush with this insurance is new, however. And finding out that I need a pre-authorized number from the insurance company before I can get a prescription for this is just plain old annoying. I mean, when you're cracking and bleeding and have frustrated your entire family's schedule with an unplanned trip to the doctor and a 30-minute wait at the drugstore, you don't want to find out that it could be another week before getting the medicine needed to end the agony.

Ugh.

* * * * *

Yesterday as I munched on some banana bread thoughtfully given to us by her, today as I toasted bagels leftover from our monthly Bagel Sunday at church, and later when the kids were playing with some activity toys passed along by her, I thought about how wonderful it is to be in the family of God. If you're blessed like me, your local place of worship is the kind of place full of the kind of people that never let you feel isolated and alone for too long--and that's a really, really good thing.

* * * * *

Thoughts about kitchen renovations are whirling in my mind. I have no idea what the price tags associated with such thoughts actually are, but I'm happier not knowing: this way I can dream to my heart's content without yet being disappointed.

And if you're like me, you agree that the dreaming is half the fun, anyway.

* * * * *

Sometimes I really do wish that chocolate and ice cream were two of the main food groups.

(You think I'm joking...)

* * * * *

I have a long list of things still to do today. The things I'm choosing to focus on are what I've done--phone calls/e-mails made/sent, laundry caught up, the kitchen thoroughly cleaned after a busy weekend, and the house generally tidied--and the fact that Mondays are the day Daniel is gone until long after the kids (and sometimes I) go to bed, so I don't have to set aside time for lengthy meal prep (my kids actually prefer PB&J, which is fine with me as long as I don't consider the implications on my cooking), freeing up the evening for completing yet undone chores.

What is my motivation in plowing through the unfun necessaries, like cleaning bathrooms and bathing children, you ask? Two new photo albums ready to receive the backlogged photos of our growing and ever-changing family. There are at least 10 developed rolls on a shelf upstairs (the last pictures that made it into an album are from shortly after Bronwyn's birth) and I am eagerly anticipating getting them cataloged for frequent viewing!

* * * * *

On Saturday, Gabriel asked Daniel why we didn't wait to have our wedding when he could attend.

Made me think of one of my all-time favorite quotes: "Mom, you've been married longer than I've been alive!?!"

Left the house yesterday morning at 9:45am, kids in tow. Two of them were dropped off to spend the morning with my brothers and sisters, one came with me. At 5:30pm I trudged in the door, bags bulging with things like light bulbs, bananas, heart-shaped sprinkles, and one detailed list of things at Home Depot that need to be purchased for 57 Market St.

Made a quick meal for the family and washed dishes. E-mailed aforementioned list to a handy and hard-working deacon in our church. Wrote a quick note to accompany a small gift purchased for a friend who is moving away from the area.

7:00pm and I'm about to walk out the door again, this time with no kids. One pick-up-blitz and 3 small pairs of pajamas later, I feel somewhat confident that I can leave without things being in total disarray.

Are you sure you're okay? I ask.

I'm sure, he says, with the smile that implies how funny he thinks my obvious--and perhaps misplaced--concern is. We'll have a great evening!

I was off again, to return again in a couple hours after some coffee, conversation, and a farewell. This I did and promptly fell into bed, wondering when it was that my internal clock decided 10pm was late.

But just before my eyes closed and I surrendered to the bliss of sleep, my youngest decided he needed to wake up. Daniel thinks it was because he's teething; I think it's because he missed me.

And all I was wishing was that the others would wake up, too, so I could talk with them for a few minutes. I hadn't seen them much all day, and I was missing them.

There are lots of days when staying home seems like nothing but monotony. Picking out 4 outfits and slicing 3 bananas, reading a billion stories aloud and doing even more loads of laundry, washing dishes and sauteeing veggies, scrubbing toilets and playing Memory, changing diapers and brushing multiple sets of teeth, doesn't seem like greatness, that's for sure. But I really do love it. And I really do miss it when I don't get to do it all--even for just one day.

Besides, to my kids it sure is great.

I try not to get bent out of shape over little things. There are enough big things in life that are tough to swallow that it's better to laugh off the small annoyances--or at least shrug them off, if laughing is impossible.

But I can't help keep a bit of a tally. And usually my frustration is highest when trying to make purchases.

Like when I noticed that the 1/2-gallon container of half and half at P&C is actually more expensive per quart than the individual quarts are and my entire extended family has been duped.

Like when I went to use up my stock-piling Gap rewards cards and very happily added 2 pairs of really nice $10 jeans to my cart--one in size 2 and one in size 5 for the boys next winter, but, upon "checking out," find they are suddenly out of stock. And when I went back to pick different sizes, those sizes were out of stock, too--once I got to the payment page. And then when I tried to pick the original sizes again because, after all, they were still listed as being available, they were again listed as out of stock upon payment. Please. This is 2007. If you want me to shop online, I expect you to make your site work.

Like when I went to Dollar Tree yesterday morning and had to wait 10 minutes because their satellite that would transmit my debit card transaction wasn't working. The manager had to go and shovel the snow off of it, declaring this to "happen all the time in the winter." If you know it's going to happen, could you clean it off before your customer(s) arrive?

Like when the eBay seller says she will accept PayPal only to (after having bought the dress for Bronwyn, of course) have her inform me that she actually wants a money order.

Ugh.

But after having tallied them all, I realize they're really not big inconveniences and ought to be shrugged off. I suppose it's easy for all people everywhere to get myopic in their outlook, but I find that as a stay-at-home mom, it's particularly easy. Sometimes I actually am tempted to let my joy be stolen by the rising price of meat.

Until I make the tally and realize that Jesus is still on the throne.

What a fun evening.

We had lots and lots of guests. (Which isn't hard to manage when you come from a family of nine.) Beyond those related by blood, our good friend/babysitter, our adopted-because-he-lives-with-my-family-brother, and a couple from church with a little boy who will turn 1 in March (he and Jack are nursery buddies) came. It's always fun to have a houseful!

Some pictures of our guests:

(if you know these guys, this picture won't alarm you. otherwise...)

one of our favorite families


the Papa arrived!


Nursery Pal


Younger Cousin

Gift-opening is always hilarious with kids! (It's tough to keep a 1-year-old on task.) While the first package did seem to somewhat pique his curiosity, he was far from an enthusiastic participant. But when he got it opened--boy!--was it a hit! The problem then was that we were hard-pressed to get him to give anything else a second glance! (Good job, Aunt Em! You picked a winner!)

from somewhat interested...

...to totally absorbed!


after some coaxing, willing to give this toy a chance...


...but letting big sister take over the enjoyment of the rest of the gifts...


...so Mom finally takes over

As for the cake, I knew it would be a hit with him. After all, what baby doesn't like cake? (None of mine, at any rate.) Considering the fact that he eats a rather small variety of table foods and in small amounts at any given time, I'm still not sure how his digestive system is doing after letting him have at it! But it sure was fun!

What do I do with this???


Uh, my hands are dirty...


Uncle Ry gives needed re-assurance


Tasty...


OK, I'm game!

It was a great evening. We are so blessed to have loving family and friends who will mark these milestones with us. And, even more, we are so blessed in Jackson. He is so, so precious.

In an hour we'll begin our official celebration of Jackson's birthday. Even though he's actually been a year old for 29 hours, I've been stubbornly clinging to the idea that he is still "jus' a baby," as Bronwyn says, until after the party. I'm just not quite ready to relinquish him to toddler-hood...

I'm a bit melancholy about missing some special friends who have shared the previous 1-year-old birthdays in our family. It's also sad to not have our Pittsburgh family around for tonight. But I am very glad that my sisters (and sisters...) and brother(s) finally get to join in a 1-year-old party, and she'll get to be here, too; and who knows?--my mom and dad might make it back in time from the marriage retreat they were sharing at, in addition!

Tomorrow I'll change that ticker up there. Just give me until tomorrow...

Today is my baby boy's birthday.

It's pretty hard to believe that only one year ago I was discouraged and worn by labor. While I had been laboring  on-and-off for much of the previous three days, it seemed to always be on at night, making sleep virtually impossible. I was 4cm Thursday morning; by Sunday morning I had been in earnest labor since 6pm the night before. At 10:00am on January 15th, I was at the tail end of my "parking" at 8cm and 3 hours away from delivering Jack. I was feeling hopeless and ready to abandon everything. Well, I was feeling those things between the 10-20 second intervals of 90-second, often-piggy-back contractions that lasted upwards of 3 hours, that is...

Even harder to believe, though, is that Jackson has only been around for one year. How was our family our family without him?? I'm so glad God gave him to us.

Last night, as I thought about how fleeting infancy is, I felt tears welling in my eyes. I already struggle to remember a lot of the details surrounding Gabriel as a baby--looking at pictures helps jog foggy memories of songs we sang and games he liked, but really, much has become a blur; and I wonder how long it will take before the already-fading memories of Jackson's newborn scent, his scrawny arms, and his tiny cry are relegated to photo albums.

Still, I am glad to celebrate with my baby. I remind myself why God gives life. I am again renewed in my excitement to see Jackson become a boy who loves Jesus, then a young man who is zealous for the Kingdom, and then an adult who is able to bear the weight of His glory. How blessed Daniel and I are to have such a firsthand glimpse of His work in our children's lives!

For now, here are some things that make Jackson a special and unique part of our family:

--he delights us all as he continues to look completely unlike Daniel or I. We jokingly say that should we ever adopt children, we wouldn't have to feel badly that they don't bear a physical resemblance to the rest of us! Jack's red (orange, if you want to be truthful) hair, white lashes and brows, peaches n' cream complexion, and grey eyes are all traits that neither Daniel or I can take credit for. It's so fun to see how different all children are!

--he patiently endures a lot of pushing, shoving, and bully-ing from his older siblings, but has developed a quietly strong response. There are rarely tears when he has been abused in some way; instead there is almost always a subtle determination to take back what was taken or get right back up where he was. I don't anticipate him being the verbose or crowd-pleasing sort, but I also don't see him being quite as laid-back as we'd all first guessed he would be.

--he loves wrestling with Daddy, Gabriel, and Bronwyn, completely undeterred by how much smaller he is than the other parties involved. He "growls" and tumbles with the best of them!

--everything about Jackson is round: his head, his eyes, his cheeks, his mouth...

--he loves to nurse, which thrills me. Gabriel and Bronwyn were quickly ready to abandon nursing the minute "real" food was introduced, but Jackson still prefers nursing to the bits of table-food I offer him. He will often eat some of the veggies I give him at the dinner table, only to stop after a bit to reach for me. There is a certainly a commitment to having a nursing baby, but the blessing of our mama-baby connection is so rewarding!

--he has 7 teeth and the 8th is coming in. And, no, it's not the tooth that would even out the 7 in front but, rather, a premolar.

--his favorite toy is my jar of beef bouillon and his favorite activity is stair-climbing. These are not my favorite things.

--his 1st year alive coincides with my most content and productive year as a mom. I experienced a greater effectiveness in my work, in child-discipline, and in my ability to withstand tiresome tasks in 2006. This, I know, is nothing of my own merit; at the beginning of last year the Lord clearly spoke to me that He was going to bring increased stability and peace to my life. One year ago I wrote, "with [Jackson's] birth has come a new-found peace. The last month has been very
free of the perfectionism and foolish self-requirements that have so
often marked my life. Before he was born I felt the Lord telling me
that this year--represented in Jackson's arrival--was going to bring
victory in areas related to being a wife and mom. So far, I have known
greater stability emotionally and less pressure to perform than before.
When I look at my Jackson, I think I will always reflect on this." While I have much, much farther to go, I have found His word to be true. And knowing that He surely is completing the work He has begun in me gives me great faith to see His work completed in Jackson--and in all my children.

Happy Birthday to my little man and one of my great, great joys!

I'd like to suggest that the vacuum cleaner is the most important item in any home.

1. It is my work-out program.
2. It provides a "chase" game for my toddlers.
3. It serves as a distraction for my otherwise-fussy baby for upwards of 30 minutes.
4. It transforms a disgusting, crumb-covered carpet into a clean, off-white surface.

What more can you ask for?!

This little boy will celebrate his first birthday in three short days.

Three days...

::Daniel and Mom P. and Beth have left. The week with our visitors had me so pre-occupied, I hardly thought about Daniel's upcoming absence. While three days apart is hardly enough to shed a tear about, three days is long enough for me to be feeling lonesome by the end. I will have to think of a few things to do between now and Saturday night that might get us out of the house for a bit.

::This did not refer to a specific person or situation or circumstance. Really, it was just the result of me--once again--looking at myself and being convicted by how aloof I keep myself so many times. I convince myself that others are holding me to the same unreachable standards that I too often measure myself by, and that they have found me wanting. As a friend and sister in Christ, I really do fall prey to the idea that unless I am always blessing you ("you" being a general term), helping you, adding to your life, etc., than I am a burden you don't want to carry. If my children are rude to you, or if I have to ask for something from you, or if my problems seem like something nobody would want to hear about, I tend to withdraw so that I can "deal" with myself and then come back to you when I've taken care of things.

What a double-standard, considering that I would never want a friend of mine to do the same with me.

Trust me, though, that this does not pertain to housekeeping or pressure to make the house perfect for others. My entirely impossible standard for cleanliness is a problem much more deeply rooted than simply wanting others to be pleased/impressed/etc.; I like it "just so" for me as much as for other people. (In other words, I really and truly am a bit OCD.)

::Jackson is cutting his first premolar and it is awful. Last night included little sleeping, much fussing and even more nursing. I am tired and he is irritable. Is it okay for me to be jealous of the babies who don't even cut their first tooth until they are 12+ months old???

::Now that the holidays are really behind us, I am re-re-evaluating our eating habits. Actually, just mine. I'm fairly disciplined about making sure my children are eating healthy, including snacks. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner include a limited amount of starches and almost always major on fruits and veggies. If there is a snack, it is either fresh fruit or peanuts/raisins. Desserts are fewer and farther between than ever. (Unless Daddy gets involved, of course, since he loves "spoiling" his kiddos.) But my own eating?

Yeah, not so good.

The problem lies in how much time and effort I am willing to put into my own meals. I don't eat lunch at the same time as the kids for two reasons: 1. I'm not hungry as soon as they are, and 2. my hands are plenty busy just trying to keep them moving along through mealtime. I usually break for lunch after they're all napping, and since that time is also my "project time," I will typically grab whatever is most handy so as to leave as much time for work as possible. Sometimes what I grab is something decent like an apple or a clementine. More often, though, it's a piece of bread or a cookie or a couple slices of cheese. Eating healthier needs to be as much (or more) a priority of mine as, say, organizing the closet or cleaning the bathroom.

I'm too tired and short on sleep to add in the exhaustion that comes with messed-up blood sugar levels and such.

::Bronwyn's pacifier got lost last week. This has made naptime and bedtime a bit more of a longer and louder process, but I figured the disappearance was at a good time. She needs to be done with this habit that, while limited to sleeping, might soon mean orthodontic problems. Today, however, while Daniel was cleaning out the car to make room for luggage (the car doubles as his office-on-wheels), he found the "pac-yishe" and returned it to its owner.

Ugh.

::I'm so excited for Carina about her new endeavors. I think she will see much success and even greater influence in lives.

::A whole bunch of new reading materials arrived yesterday. I can't even begin to list all the titles, so I will list the ones I am most anxious to read. Any votes on what to start with are more than welcomed!

The Five Love Languages of Children
A Chance to Die
The Power of a Praying Wife
The Marriage Covenant
Stop Dating the Church

Where to begin?!?!

::My kids are fighting. I'd better go get us involved in an activity, and quick. You know, before somebody gets killed.

When it comes to you, I would always rather have friendship than perfection.

Why is it, then, that I assume you would rather have perfection than friendship?

They say we might soon see snow and I hope they are right. Sure, this warm weather makes going out and about a whole lot easier, but it also means that my little boy wakes up each morning asking if this is the day he can make a snow angel, only to be disappointed again.

But I also hope there aren't any major storms this week since Daniel will be making a fairly impromptu trip to Pittsburgh for his cousin's wedding on Friday evening. He'll be making the trip down with his mom and sister, who have been here since last Thursday. On the return trip, he'll be on his own.

Speaking of our visitors, we're having a great time having them here! I'm very glad they were able to come visit. It makes the distance between our homes seem a bit less when we don't have to go so long without seeing them. There have been lots of stories read (Bronwyn has figured out that she has a sympathetic reader in her Aunt Beth), lots of games played, and lots of "pretending" done.

I've also enjoyed seeing lots of dishes get washed by someone else.

By this time next week, our household will be re-adjusting to regular semester life. And, even though winter break didn't ever feel quite like the break we had anticipated and hoped for, I'm looking forward to classes beginning. The pace of life shared with 40-50 crazy, passionate-about-Jesus students might be much, much faster than what I would choose on my own, but at least I'm learning that the craziness is predictable. And because it's predictable, it is somehow restful.

I will confess that I'm not looking forward to returning to evenings spent mostly without Daniel. I love what he does and I love that he loves Jesus enough to do it, but night after night without him home does get tiresome. But before I complain further, I think I'll go read the excerpt about Adoniram Judson that Daniel shared with us this evening; that will put things in perspective.

You see, I want to give and pour out. I really do.

Last week as I looked ahead and felt exhaustion, I also felt His hand supporting me. Sometimes I just have to give in. I have to say, "God, I'm too tired to do this thing You've called me to. It doesn't matter how many times I tell myself I'm a wimp and that this is all really very do-able, I can't do it right now. But You are God. And even though I'm frail and fallen, You are my God. Please help me to give again... to give today... to give tomorrow... to give when I want to... and to give when I don't want to." And then He can be God.

The only giving that counts is the giving that flows from God through a vessel. So I guess I ought to let Him do the work through me instead of trying to do it on my own.

And I'll do the next thing.

I am very blessed.

Jackson and I took a roadtrip yesterday with my mom and sister (and cousin/nephew). Our main objective was depositing her at the airport, which we did. Of course, the day wouldn't have been complete without some shopping, which we also did. (Boy, did we shop. If only you could have seen the 5 of us returning home in the mini-van, wedged between the 7 area rugs that were purchased for the College Life Center and Carina's salon!)

It was a lot of fun.

The best part--more than good buys and completed shopping lists--was returning home to a house free of clutter, dirty dishes, and/or stress. Gabriel and Bronwyn were fast asleep. The floors had been recently vacuumed. A special visitor had taken residency in our guest room.

People joke about Daniel winning "Husband of the Year Award," but I think their joking is half-sincere. At least I think it should be. He really does know how to bless me.

In parting, here's an overdue video clip from Christmas Day:

I pull the blankets up about their little bodies. I stroke soft cheeks and lean near for one last squeeze.

Today, January 3, 2006, has been lived in the lifebooks of my children. Completed. Now it is their portion to rest.

As the year 2007 is ushered in, I struggle to greet it with joy. I feel tired. My soul is weary. The striving that seems to mark so much of life just doesn't feel worth the victories that seem to come too few and far between.

But it is not yet my portion to rest.

One day, I'll see Him face to face. The struggles and strife and striving will be left behind.

But not for now.

For now, I must live. I must serve and I must give. I must war and I must reach out. I must sweat and I must weep. I must care and I must rejoice. I must.

To complete my days. To honor my God. To see His love realized.

And then I will rest.

Tonight, four people came into our home for a brief 15 minutes. In that 15 minutes, they removed a source of joy from next to my bed and hung it in my kitchen.

I am in awe of how beautiful my new shelf makes the entire room. The whole kitchen suddenly looks more loved... and just... well... plain old prettier! My husband is in awe of how quickly they hung such a heavy shelving unit--and hung it well. (Bill was doing pull-ups on it, to give you an indication of how secure this thing is!)

Here it is:
(The shelf's not crooked, my picture-taking is.)

As it looks from the doorway between the kitchen and dining room:


And one of the great benefits of having it:
(Now I can move some of those glasses that are making the entire top cabinet shelf bow!)

I am so blessed! What great and wonderful friends!

What you hear when two little boys who watch too many action/superhero movies are playing with a little girl's colonial dollhouse and family-of-six figures:

Gabriel's voice/little boy figure: Mom, can I please go the future?

Merrick's voice/mom figure: No! Anywhere but the future, my son!

2006

I made a new resolution last year: I will not make a New Year's resolution other than to let God... let Grace... let the Potter mold this clay. My heart was feeling disappointed and disillusioned with--and discouraged by--the curvy paths of life, the sorrow that is inevitable, my awful sin impulses, the exhaustion that a glimpse at the future too easily produces.

Last year on this day I was two short weeks away from delivering Jackson. I was scared, and not just because labor pangs are real.

Following Bronwyn's birth 17 months earlier, I had gone through the darkest time of my life to date. The enemy had had it in for me, and he'd had it in for me good. His weapons of choice were non-original yet ever-potent lies, post-partum hormones, and a long spiritual drought.

As I approached the birth of our 3rd child, I was scared. Afraid of what the months ahead might hold. Beginning to accept that I would lose it, go insane, make poor choices, believe the enemy. On New Year's Eve 2005, as I held that little slip of lavendar paper in my trembling hand, I knew that I surely would fail.

But for the grace of God.

And as that truth sunk deep into my heart and mind, I knew peace. I wrote my requests on that paper and I knew peace. When I was in the long throes of labor and panic about the future was gripping my heart, I clung to the peace I knew was mine. When those feelings of worthlessness swept in like a flood, I fought with peace. When mistakes were made and sins committed, He gave me peace.

There aren't many times I've even felt something close to an audible word from the Lord. Last year was one of those times. Three little words that changed my year, strengthened me, and set me free: I'll do it.

And He did.

By the grace of God.