quiet evenings

I know the semester is in full swing when one evening after another finds me tucked on the couch, a blanket wrapped around me, the house silent except for the even breathing of the baby coming through on the monitor and the vehicles driving by outside. The later bedtimes of summer vacation or holidays are done away with and routinely the children are all snug in their beds by 7:30pm, some with small lights and books and others asleep before I have even finished reading out loud to them.

The baby gets settled in his bed.

And then re-settled.

(My high-maintenance little man, I think to myself upon re-settling #4 or #5.)

Then I sneak downstairs after a final whispered good-night to my biggest kiddos. As I descend into warm light, I smile about how there is at least one lamp on in every room. It reminds me of when Daniel and I first were married and we quickly realized that he would go around turning lamps off while I went around turning lamps on:

"You're not even in that room," he would chuckle.

"But our house looks so much friendlier with lights!" I would insist.

He's a good man. He lets me leave lamps on just because he knows I like it.

By the time the babies are all in bed, I am usually very tired. Elliot is almost 10 months old and in these past 10 months I know for certain that there is not one single night when I have slept more than 4 uninterrupted hours, and the majority of nights the most is 2. Yes, he is my high-maintenance little man.

(Somehow this doesn't bother me, though it does exhaust me. I guess I'm not too concerned about whether or not he'll ever learn to sleep through the night. I feel pretty certain he will.)

With the quiet of the night hours engulfing me, I pull out a book I am reading or I do a small project or I fold a load of laundry or I watch a recorded show like Downton Abbey or Barefoot Contessa or I catch up on email. It is peaceful and calm, which stands in stark contrast to the hubbub that is most of my day.

The truth is that I used to have such a bad attitude about these many nights I spend without Daniel here. Tonight it suddenly struck me how much I don't resent this routine any more-- not because I don't miss Daniel's company or never wish we could have more time together (I always do!), but because the Lord really has helped me over the years to find perspective, contentment, and joy in even such small matters as this one. I'm thankful that He keeps chipping away at the selfishness in me. He's a good Father.

Tonight, Hattie Big Sky and a hot cup of tea are my companions of choice.

It's inevitable when all is still that I become infinitely more aware of blessed I am. The fret and fear melt away. What was I so bent out of shape about earlier? I wonder. I don't think I can even remember.

And then I think to myself that this must be why the Lord tells us to be still and know that He is God.

Just stop.

Stop striving and doing and crowding.

(Ironically enough, I'm not sure I would do such a great job at carving out these consecutive nights of solitude and still if it were solely up to me.)

And listen.

God-- the God of all, the God who stood before time and who will endure after-- wants to speak to me. He wants to whisper words of hope and assurance. He wants to give guidance and and leadership and wisdom. He wants to pour out refreshing and faith. He wants to reach down and mend the most broken parts, the ones that I sometimes think will only ever be broken.

These quiet evenings have actually become quite precious to me.

How thankful I am for what Jesus does with them.

 

Sponges

As a mom of young children, I am so aware of what little sponges they are. Sometimes it's paralyzing, really, realizing how much they are taking in from me. What are the idiosyncrasies, sin patterns, and plain old strange habits I am passing on, I wonder?

I regularly pray that the Lord will shield them from me and open their hearts to Him.

I also am terribly aware of all the junk out there. That, too, can be paralyzing, can't it?

The truth is that even when they are with the people of God, they are exposed to things that are yet in need of the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit. No person is sinless. No person is perfect. Even the best-intentioned, earnestly-God-following friend will at times be a negative influence in their little lives.

Wow.

Here's what I've had to come to terms with over and over again, since the first minute I held my firstborn in my trembling hands and cried tears of shame at all the sin he would see in me over the coming years: it is my job to be faithful; it is not my job to do a perfect job or do the job only the Holy Spirit can do.

There is absolutely a time to shelter and hide them away. I am a firm believer in the anointing on a mom and dad to know when a situation will be too much for their child to navigate. I am an even more firm believer that childhood should not be a time when we unleash the world on these young ones, but rather a time when we create a greenhouse environment in which they can grow their roots down deep.

But they will come face to face with sin. In the world. In me. In themselves.

And so I pray daily for wisdom. I pray daily that as I take in the Word of God, it would be the standard raised high and an anchor that holds not just for my own soul, but for my little charges' souls as well. I pray that confrontations with sin would not make them bitter, but would open their hearts to Truth.

I pray that He would protect them.

And I take great, soul-satisfying comfort in how able He is to know when they need to see the raw ugliness of sin that they might see the Savior, and when they need to be shielded.

I am their mother. Daniel is their father.

He is God.

 

These Days

These days of mine are pretty simple. Not always easy, but generally straight-forward. I honestly wouldn't prefer it any other way, as I am by nature a fairly organized person. I think in terms of outlines, checklists, and patterns. I am not choleric enough to be truly Type A, but I'm OCD enough. I can't tell you how thankful I am for this season that lends itself naturally to clear-cut priorities.

Even so, sometimes the beauty of its simplicity gets lost in the haze of exhaustion and repetition. That's when I start to think, Don't forget this! That-- and that!-- and that! Yes, those things! You want to remember. There are miracles happening right before my eyes, but I don't always see the the forest for the trees.

Right now I pause long enough to part the fog that is day blending into day to say that these days are::

:: home-centered days. It's true that I sometimes go a week at a time without stepping foot outside my house. I continually grow in my appreciation of this, especially as these kinds of weeks gradually become fewer and farther between due to the children's activities/commitments that draw me outside more and more often.

(Because honestly?-- these changes makes me sad. I am a homebody through and through!)

I'm glad that this season is one of mostly being home-- and that even when I'm not, the "outside pull" is largely centered around what is happening at home and right in our young family's midst.

:: putting festivities behind us days. Despite my normally not sentimental tendencies, I always feel a little sad to say good-bye to one year and hello to the next. Add to this my children's despondency over putting the Christmas decorations away and taking the tree down and there was some serious melancholy in our home over the weekend. Thank goodness for a couple small things to brighten these winter days. Things like a favorite artist's postcard print framed in the window at my kitchen sink, a newly-blooming paperwhite from my friend and neighbor on our dining room table, and the miniature acorn-hat representation of our family that is now newly updated to include six little children.

:: ice skating and hockey game attending and football watching and friends hosting days. When I think about all the rich, rich ways God blesses our daily lives-- opportunities to do special things with our kids right here in our small town and for little to no cost, sharing relational bonds that go so much deeper than just having external things in common, opening our home as we are able (I refuse to think about how much more I would like to be doing in this arena and just choose to rejoice in the days that hospitality does work out)-- I am undone with gratitude.

Un.done.

I have so, so, so, SO much to be thankful for.

:: thoughtful and contemplative days. I am grateful for the way a new beginning of any kind prompts me to reevaluate and reconsider what my choices, priorities, and ambitions actually are. In my heart of hearts I sincerely want my life to be about Christ and knowing Him more. I wish I weren't fickle and that all my actions always followed accordingly, but I get off-track. Quickly and often. God is so gracious to provide natural opportunities to get refreshed in what (WHO) is truly important.

:: noticing my children days. They are unique, special people. I can get busy (with them, believe it or not!) and miss how remarkable they really are. I have been purposing to watch them more. Watching them playing contentedly for countless hours (out in the snow, hidden away in quiet places, in the middle of the kitchen floor, or wherever inspiration finds them!), love each other, feast on being with me, laugh and repent and sing and learn and grow fills me to overflowing.

:: faith growing days. The more I see of this world and raw humanity (in me, in my family, in everyone everywhere!), the more aware I am of how great our need is. Oh! how glad I am for His ever present help! I have many opportunities of late to choose to meditate on His greatness, His sufficiency, His compassion, His ever-expanding rule. There is such joy-- deep, abiding joy-- in this sort of meditation.

Despite what I sometimes (often?!) see, despite what I sometimes (often?!) feel, He is in control and He is not worried and He will not fail.

Hallelujah!

:: get back on track days. This begins with small, but important steps.

1. Elliot taking naps in his bed again after a long month of sickness that turned into a bit too much attachment (as much as I really don't mind sitting and snuggling that bundle of love all day long, I do have other children I need to tend to occasionally!).

2. A fresh start at a Bible reading plan. I've got one that sends me reminders electronically, and so far this has been such a wonderful tool since I do experience my fair share of quiet time interruptions-- and it's hard to remember to get back to whatever didn't get finished in my first attempt! I am so thankful for modern technology. I am on Day 22 of a 1-Year plan and I haven't fallen behind for even a day yet. This might be a record that I've not touched since pre-baby days!

3. Regular exercise. I won't embarrass myself by saying how long it's been since this was part of my days. Let's just say, I've been sore but it's been good. Ouch.

I want to be healthy and strong for my children and grandchildren, yes, but ultimately so that I am fit for whatever the Lord may call me to my whole life through.

4. Morning routine, housework routine, school routine, dietary routine. That last one is getting a jumpstart with our church week of prayer and fasting. Daniel's the only truly hardcore one in our house, but the kids and I always find our own way to starve the flesh a bit (and, at the very least, it's a good way to break our holiday-fed sugar addictions).

 

Yes, these are my days. I think back to a time when this kind of life sounded boring. It is so far from boring, and that is because it is right what the Lord has me doing. Serving Him is joy, peace, blessing, and purpose. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else!

 

Rambling

Every year it happens. The holidays fly by. And, inevitably, I don't do all the things I mean to do.

I remind myself that it isn't about the doing-- but sometimes that comfort only goes so far because a lot of what I mean to do has little to do with doing and much more with being and I think these are precious days that I don't want to miss out on.

Not because I think this is the best it will ever get.

Not because I'm trying to suck the joy out of this life without hope of another.

Because each day is a gift.

Oh boy, am I learning that more and more and more.

Days are here and gone. Time is here and gone. And not to be dreadfully melancholy or anything, but I am not guaranteed anything. Right here, right now is an amazing opportunity to serve the Lord and I don't want to be found complacent.

And, yes, the season I'm in right now is a particularly precious one. My children young, close to me in every way, needing me, listening to me, letting me teach them and remind them and hold them. My children watching me and observing me and imitating me and being shaped by me.

Crazy that so many of their thoughts and ideas and practices begin with me, you know? This is an especially challenging thought to me as I consider a new year, new habits and disciplines. Is my love for Jesus greater than its ever been? (If it's not, the answer isn't to muster up some feelings of deeper devotion; the answer is to be refreshed in how much my Savior has loved and forgiven me.) Are my children seeing in me what I ache to see in them?

I am thinking about what loving Jesus looks like.

Obedience.
Loving His church.
Holding temporal things loosely.
Looking to His return.

There are so many practical ways this comes out.

One way is to love and cherish these children of mine. And as I savor the blessings they are, to turn it all back to praise. 

I am unworthy.
You are so good.
I am faithless.
You are unendingly faithful.

Wow, God, You are wonderful.