A special boy

Gabriel has many endearing qualities, one being that he loves to laugh and be silly, especially with his dad.

He loves to eat, too. I'm not sure I've ever heard the words, "I'm full," come out of his mouth.

He plays hard, loves hard, works hard, practices hard, thinks hard... you get the idea. He is not a whirlwind personality, but more of an intense and deep well that becomes infinitely precious to any who will take the time to draw from him.

(Just be careful: once you've unleashed his talkative side, he might not pause for breath-- which his aunties will all attest to!)

This boy made me a mama, and that is awfully special to me, too.

Happy Birthday, Gabriel! We couldn't love you more!

If I but lose myself...

Six peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, divided among five children.
Three loads of laundry: one white, one light, one dark.
Wiping down the kitchen sink... again.
Sweeping up the mudroom... again.
Sauteing the onions & garlic... again.

These are most days for me. They pile on top of one another, and sometimes, yes sometimes, I wonder if I am drowning, being lost, in the sameness of it all.

But in the middle of that thought comes another one: the thought that if my heart is right, that if this is for Him, then it is beautiful. That if I am not just fulfilling obligations to the people I have committed to care for, but if I am purposing to lay down my life and learning to cherish servanthood, then He is being found in me.

This grasping that we do-- us frail, temporal, shortsighted beings-- hoping desperately to find ourselves, it leads to frustration. Ask me how I know.

So why do I do it? Why don't I always remember and never forget how much better-- how good and how freeing!-- it is to lay down the vain ambitions, the self preservation, the inward focus?

I guess it's because I am shortsighted.

But the Holy Spirit reminds me, and how thankful I am for that! Like a breath of fresh air after a stormy night (or days & nights, if I cling to the funk long enough), He reminds me of the joy that comes when I leave it-- me-- at the foot of the cross.

And suddenly I laugh at the ease of it all. His burden is indeed light! No longer do I worry that I am being lost, because I have already realized how much better it actually is to lose myself in order to find Him. No longer do I fret that parts of me are dying, because I am wanting to crucify the flesh that I might gain Christ.

This is the dichotomy of following Christ.

I die to live. I give to gain. I lose to find.

It's true. It absolutely is. Ask me how I know.

Gal 2.20 I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.

New Things

1. New Rugs

Discovering and refurbishing the wide plank floors throughout our downstairs set me up for a task which I've never really previously encountered (thanks to homes up until now that have wall-to-wall carpeting): picking out area rugs.

Seems like a simple enough thing to do, right?

It is.

Until you factor in price limitations, picky tastes (me-- I realized in this process that while I like a lot of rugs, I don't love very many), a desire to make sure the wood is still the prominent focal point in the house (husband), and extremely limited local shopping.

Please tell me it's stressful for everyone to try to figure out just exactly what colors are in a rug based on a computerized image and not just me. Blah.

However, after weeks and weeks of agonizing, putting masking tape on the floors to ascertain what sizes would be right, garnering the input and feedback of my altogether gracious sisters and friends and mom, and hunting for the best prices, I found two rugs on ebay.

I am so happy with them.

And honestly? The work of it all makes the satisfaction that much more complete.

Score.

2. New Vehicle

Our van has been dying a slow and painful death for about a year.

Then, in December, our mechanic couldn't even wink when he passed it for inspection. He told us straight-up that we needed to replace it ASAP-- and not to bother even giving it to anyone when we were done with it, because it wouldn't be a blessing to a single soul. The body of the van was literally rusting and disintegrating around the engine and, well, what good is an engine with another 100,000 miles left if there isn't anything left for it to motor?

Fortunately, thanks to the slow aspect of its death, we saw it coming and have been saving up for its replacement. The goal has been a vehicle with more seating, as well as something in sound condition.

At the beginning of the month, a vehicle was practically dropped in our lap. Within about a week, we had our mechanic check it out and give it a thumbs-up, transferred the title, bought new tires and did a couple repairs that were needed, and pulled it into our driveway.

Good thing, too, since Daniel sold our van to a junk yard for parts and scrap metal days beforehand.

Introducing the 9-passenger suburban:

(This isn't actually ours. Every time I think to take a picture, it's not here in the driveway because Daniel has it. We're in the process of downsizing to a one-car family, but that's another story. And, from what I can tell, this truck gives a pretty good idea of what we're now sporting, right down to the khaki trim.)

3. New Lamp

This isn't nearly as exciting as a new vehicle to some of you, but if you're like me, you don't really care a whit about the car you're driving as long as you can count on it to get you from Point A to Point B. At which point, lamps really are more exciting.

Especially when they come as pretty as this one and with a price tag of only $20.

I've needed a lamp for my nightstand for a while now. I didn't really have a plan for getting one and wasn't even looking.

Sometimes I think God puts these deals around just to remind me that He sees every little detail of our lives and cares that much.

Thanks, God.

In which I admit defeat

We brought in an extra TV and filled the house with lots of our favorite people.

We consumed a shocking amount of food: pizza & wings, shrimp de gallo, hummus & veggies, kielbasa & cheese, black & gold cupcakes, chocolate chip cookies, and more.

People weren't afraid to wear black & gold (check out my awesome sisters!).

In the end, we lost, despite more net yards, more first downs, and more time of possession. Hopefully the lesson has been learned: you can't throw the ball to the other guys if you want to score more points than them.

Joy

I'm thinking lots about the joy of the Lord being my strength lately. About how I don't know that my life is a witness of this-- at least not the way I think it can be.

Life isn't easy. Sure, we have our mountain-top experiences. Like the day I held my firstborn. Nothing else in the world existed in that moment! Or perhaps it's an idyllic family dinner, or a Holy Spirit infused prayer meeting, or the satisfaction of stepping back from a freshly weeded and mulched garden bed, or breakthrough in a situation that seemed impossible. We experience and share in victories of all kinds, the greatest being the one when He pulled us from the miry clay and we knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that our feet are finally firmly planted and we're home in Him.

Yet along the way, amidst the good things and the victories, we realize day by day that we're in a battle. The truth of how much our enemy hates us and wants to destroy us becomes better understood. We taste the bitterness as well as the sweetness of life.

That's true for everyone. We all live in a fallen world. We all groan for His return and the final defeat of the enemy of our souls.

The difference I see is that some, some have tasted of the Lord and found that He is good. Some have learned to drink at the well of His presence, His peace, His joy. Some have feasted on His love and mercy and found that it changes everything... it changes them.

And that's the key: He changes us. I don't want to just learn how to be optimistic, to retrain myself to see the glass as half-full instead of half-empty, to "think happy." The joy of the Lord is more than positivity vs. negativity. It's a fruit of His Spirit at work in the fibers of my being. He's the One who produces it, and He's the One who will renew it in me.

I just have to stay close to Him.

In staying close to Him, I experience His joy, and that can't help but flow out of me. Joy that paves the way for faith, peace, patience, and a whole host of other good and wonderful and eternal things. Joy that is a bedrock of strength, looking a circumstance, a disappointment, a situation right in the eye and causing me to never flinch, waver, or hesitate-- because His joy is the joy of salvation, and absolutely nothing can take that away.

How I love You
You are the One, You are the One...
I was so lost
You showed the way 'cause You are the Way...
I was lied to
You told the truth 'cause You are the Truth...
I was dying
You gave me life 'cause You are the life...
How I love You
You are the One for me.
- Keith & Melody Green

Reality

It's 3:34pm as I sit down. An hour ago, I brought my little girls upstairs for nap, and it isn't until an hour later that I am successfully tip-toeing out of the room. The baby has a cold and it seems each time she finally drifts off, a fit of coughing stirs her and we are back to square one. I feel badly for her, but I confess to also feeling frustrated. I just want to go downstairs and move on already.

I am tired. The weight of life would like to crush me, and I would like at least five uninterrupted minutes to process.

It doesn't help that my chores for the day are barely dented. I'd like to say this is because it was a successful school morning and that the older kids and I lost ourselves in learning. The truth is, I barked at Bronwyn because she was singing instead of finishing her math assignment and I brushed off Jack's request to work on reading because I was too busy trying to shuffle six loads of laundry through the washer and dryer.

And, sure enough, despite my efforts, the laundry is only halfway done and the loads that are finished are far from folded. They're still in baskets, stacked in the corner of the dining room. Across the room is a drying rack full of clothes. Somehow I don't think professional decorators would approve of this style.

Lunchtime was supposed to be eaten while I did our daily read aloud. I have a vision of what this will look like: healthy food, the quiet hum of the furnace, my voice rising and falling with each paragraph, enraptured children who hang on every word. Sometimes we get kind of close to that, but a lot of days are like today: I was on the phone with a shutter company the whole mealtime and never got to the reading before the kids were going crazy around the table. (Jack was literally laying on his belly on the surface of the table while Gabriel and Bronwyn spun him around like a lazy susan when I hung up.)

"Forget reading. Just put your plates in the dishwasher," I say as I try to get a washcloth wet and applied to Claire's face before she wriggles out of the highchair and does a headfirst dive into the floor.

"Can we play wii?"

I almost say yes, but I know that's not what a "good" mom would say. Screen time should be kept to the minimum, I remind myself. Besides, that's not just psychobabble-- the truth is we're all happier when we stick with that.

So I tell them to get bundled up for some outside time instead. And-- oh!-- the drama as we tackle this next routine. One complains about a headache and I, being the merciful person that I am, say I don't care and that the fresh air will help them. Instant tears, and I wonder inwardly if I'm being too harsh.

(Now I know I was, since that very child is currently flushed and feverish.)

Claire is hanging on my legs and crying as I dress Aubrey in snow clothes because she is old enough to know that everyone but her is on the precipice of something besides staying inside. I am in a hurry and don't take the time to address her whining, and we all get more and more flustered and irritated as it continues. The older three are good these days about helping each other get ready to go outside, but today all our moods are off and the job, although done, is done with much grumbling, bossing, and bickering.

I guiltily accept that this impatient and critical mood originates with nobody else but me. I stop and tell everyone that I'm sorry for not setting an example of cheerfulness and long-suffering. I impatiently wish apologies were like an Easy button and would instantaneously alter all our attitudes.

(Huh.)

This is reality.

Yet... here's another reality: the grace of God wraps us up and carries us. He grants me repentance and forgiveness again and again and again. Although the morning felt more like trudging through muck than dancing through a field of daisies, it's in many ways a matter of perspective.

Jackson and I enjoyed quite a laugh about a silly poem we read together. I felt so blessed when Bronwyn came out of the downstairs bathroom shortly after Gabriel cleaned it, exclaiming, "Gabriel, that bathroom smells so good now! Thank you for cleaning it!" Daniel stopped in this morning between meetings to show us all the new-to-us vehicle that God has so amazingly provided, and the kids jumped up and down in excitement over it. There has been worship music playing almost non-stop thus far and the peace of His presence has been sinking deep into my soul, despite the oceans that rage around me. Nobody talked back when I doled out chores, school, and even out-of-the-ordinary requests (like getting Claire changed and dressed so I could keep breakfast prep going).

And let's be honest: the kids don't mind the unfolded laundry. They don't care about the crumbs under the dining room table, the painfully disorganized bathroom cabinet, the challenges of life. They are peaceful and content. They're not worried or harried.

I'm not saying that stuff doesn't matter... but it doesn't.

Not really.

You want to know the eternal, lasting, biggest, and surest reality?

He's got the whole world in His hands. That includes us and the very daily-ness of our existence. He sees it all. He cares about it all. He's got grace for us in it all.

Beauty for ashes, right? That's what He gives us.

And so the ashes that the enemy would like to have me focus on... I choose to trade them in. I trade them in for His beauty.

He is my reality.

Snow

The snow is piled up so high it's almost to the top of the first rail on our fence (if that makes sense).

If I was a photographer, I would take a picture. Since I'm not, I won't make you cringe at sad attempts.

Instead, I'll leave it to your imagination and simply tell you this: if you've never seen deep drifts of white, clean snow sparkling in bright sunlight beneath an intensely clear blue sky, you're missing out on one of the prettiest sights I've ever seen. There's a reason Scripture describes the work of Christ in terms of washing us "white as snow."