everyday days

These past few months have been strange ones. The days seem eerily long in that as we cram more and more into each one, we look back and wonder, "Is it possible that it was only a week ago that _______?!" On the other hand, they are a blur of activity that means we are perpetually running short on time.

How can both be true?

I try my best to enjoy each day, even though there's this constant sense of when we're resettled in the back of my mind. In my head, when I packed all those boxes up in early November, I thought I'd have unpacked them by now. Delays in closing plus some expected-yet-unexpected expansion to the project list means we are running behind our hoped-for schedule. This doesn't come as a surprise, but just because it was somewhat predicted doesn't mean it's any easier. I am homeschooling from the hip, minus simple comforts like shelves of books that I've acquired over the years, maps, plenty of toys to keep the little boys entertained, reliable internet access, and having things set up for us. It was an adjustment at first, an adventure in the middle, and now just seems to be challenging.

Or maybe that's the February blues talking.

I'm not sure.

But it's good to step back and remember that-- despite what can easily feel like an uphill battle if we let it to be present, to enjoy the process, to sow well, to remember what God said-- these are good, good days.

Some simple everyday pleasures I've been given:

Claire-Bear is easy to teach. She plows through her books and is pretty much perfectly pleasant the entire time. She proudly completed her kindergarten math book and is now well into her 1st grade book.

The weather is weird this year and snow is very hit-or-miss, but mostly the kids get outside every single day and burn off some energy. And for the first time in her little 8-year-old life, Aubrey is out there with them the ENTIRE time.

Gabriel is holding down the fort more and more for me. Along with Bronwyn's exceptional help, he feeds, clothes, changes, and puts to bed so I can attend weddings and prayer meetings, go grocery shopping, help at the new house, and slip down to the local bakery/coffee shop to meet someone here and there. And he sends me picture updates like the one above the entire time, which is cute and fun and comforting.

No small thanks to the weird/mild weather, these girls have been laying eggs at a prolific rate this winter. When I don't know what to cook and there isn't time for much, there is always a surplus of eggs. What relief!

The Upward Basketball season is underway and we are all grateful for the opportunity to compete in an edifying environment, burn off some pent-up energy, and visit with friends!

This girl bounded out when her name was announced at her very first basketball game with all the vigor of a healthy heart!

Five lost teeth! She gets so excited about each one. I love having little ones in the home!

Just when I was feeling like I've not been doing well at giving and overseeing writing assignments this school year, I told the kids to choose their topic for a final report after our ancient Egypt study and I cringed to see the results. Two days later, they handed them to me, written out neatly and with proper punctuation and even some illustrations and poetry at the end for flare and I could feel my mama-heart cry with a reminder that it's not about me anyway. I do my best (and sometimes, I admit, not even that), but God is the One who promises to make up my lack every single day. And He does. So faithfully!

winter cleaning

Is winter cleaning a thing?

Because, confession: that's when I do mine!

Deeper than any spring or fall cleaning; and far more necessary for my soul, that's for sure.

I've discovered this pattern about myself: every winter, there comes a morning when I wake up and I look around and I am convinced I live in a pig sty. The wear and tear of a big family cooped up within 4 walls for cold day after cold day with the windows shut tight becomes unbearably noticeable and I can't take it for another minute. The dingy upholstery, the dusty corners, the cluttered shelves, the fingerprint-stained windows, oh my!

Some years, I've almost had a meltdown on this day. But this year, as I tearfully told Daniel over a cup of coffee that I thought I was going to lose it, he said, "Brietta, you do this every year. Instead of fighting it, just take the day off from schoolwork and clean the house. Have the little boys watch Little Bear or something and get the older kids all helping you. You'll feel better and, good heavens, nothing will be hurt by a deep cleaning!"

(Why does he always have to cut through my drama and just simplify things like that?!?!)

So that's what we did. I gave one kid a dust mop, another our window cleaning cloths, another a dust cloth, another a vacuum. I followed with the mop bucket and rag. We worked from the mudroom all the way through the house and up the stairs. Furniture got pulled out, couch cushions got turned over, slipcovers went into the washing machine, cabinets got scrubbed, bookshelves got tidied. My downstairs is pretty straight-forward since we don't have any closets down there or many toys. A thorough cleaning transforms it from gray to bright in no time.

The reward for cleaning the entire first floor of the house was a deep cleaning and reorganizing of the girls' bedroom. I love rearranging a room.

Things got a little exciting at one point as I was heaving a full-sized bed mattress around by myself in a rather crowded room, but we got every nook and cranny of that room cleaned and every toy reorganized and at the end of the day, we put the beds and dressers and doll things in different spots and it looked clean and fresh and the girls' eyes were dancing with delight.

And the next day, I woke up as if nothing had happened and as though the world had always been a peaceful, happy place and nothing stressed me out and we opened the math books and mapped some World War II battles and learned about Pluto together.

Honestly, I really do think winter cleaning should be a thing if it isn't already!

Nine

They say the days are long but the years are short, but from my vantage point both years and days seem to be a whirlwind, and here it is March 12th and I'm just now finding a few minutes to note on this little space that Jackson Edward turned nine on January 15th.

A blur, I tell you.

His day began with chocolate chip pancakes. He'd barely wiped the sleep from his eyes before he was diving in, quietly enjoying this rare treat.

This is one of the things I love about Jackson: in a world that is so busily clamoring for everyone to see and acknowledge what we love (I do it, too!), he is content to simply relish the things he relishes. No fanfare, no fuss, no need for recognition or affirmation. Just pure and simple enjoyment.

A quiet celebration for a quiet boy. Two friends joined us, along with Nana and Papa and Uncle Merrick. He requested a turkey dinner. But can we not have roasted sweet potatoes with this turkey dinner? Okay, buddy, you got it!

My heart kind of caught in my throat this time around as I lit the candles that are so quickly accumulating on the cake. Wasn't he just my baby a few days ago?

But no, he is growing and growing fast. Grappling with big boy challenges and deeply desiring to be counted among the young men. Wrestling with heart issues and fumbling at times, making mistakes and getting back up again, developing thoughts and ideas, growing into his own skin a bit more.

2005 marked some significant experiences in the Lord for Jackson Edward; experiences to be cherished and celebrated.

He also got to do a lot of the typical childhood boy things, and I must say that he is the most all-American looking boy I know! A baseball cap low on his forehead, a bat slung over his shoulder, a mitt dangling at his side as he walks across the bridge for another game: I watch him and wonder if I've been transported to 1952. Boyhood suits this boy so well!

But I know that he was made for manhood.

And so I'm thankful for another year celebrated and I am excited for another year of walking together and growing together and watching what God will do together.

He won't grow weary

By dinnertime Monday evening, I was fried. It had been that kind of Monday for our family. The kind when we all tried quite unsuccessfully to recover from a busy and long weekend while getting a good jump on the week. I was snippy, I was losing my patience, I was annoyed.

"Jesus, I'm sorry for today. Help me enjoy the process," I prayed that night after I wearily tucked my children into bed, repenting to each one individually for my harshness, short-temper, and general irritation.

I get tired of hearing myself pray that. So, so, so tired. And sometimes-- a lot of times-- I am arrogant enough to superimpose my weariness with myself on Christ.

The truth of the matter is that He doesn't grow weary with me. 7x70 times, He forgives me. A broken and contrite spirit He will not deny.

Yesterday in the later afternoon, as I sat in the sunshine, enjoying the brilliant colors of this spectacular autumn, listening to my children play, nursing my baby, relishing the fact that even though the prior few days had been far from perfect, they had been joy-filled days, I realized that He had-- once again-- come to my rescue. In the midst of my exhaustion and defeat, He heard my repentance (repentance uttered in much doubt, if I'm honest) and He was again meeting me in my place of need.

No filter, guys. Just beautiful sunlight and a smooshy baby to kiss.

September beauty

Only three weeks into September and I feel that we have already lived the full gamut of what a homeschooling year looks like: highs, lows, successes, failures. Days I wake up excited and ready to go; days I wake up needing to dig deep into what I know to be true in order to put my hand to the plow again.

I was pretty reluctant heading into this new school year. Summer seemed so brief, so fleeting this year. I wanted just a little more, please.

But September came knocking, uninvited though she was. I dusted off the school cupboard, bought new pencils and paper, piled the basket high with library books, and took a deep breath.

And... wouldn't you know... September has been wonderful?

Wonderful in a crazy, emotion-filled, all-over-the-place, real life way.

Wonderful because all along the way-- if I stop long enough to look at the pictures on my phone!-- I realize how gently and faithfully and kindly He leads me.

(This glass-half-empty girl needs these pictures.
I need lots and lots of them.)

nature journals and mid-afternoon snacks

before dinner walks around the block

paper dolls and sister togetherness
 

easy entertainment

Saturday morning treats from Anastasia's Bakery

truth

diagramming sentences: my favorite!

 much-needed reminders on chaotic days

good old North Country beauty

(I think it's a good thing I'm usually too fried in the hectic moments to take pictures!)

seven years

When Aubrey was born seven years ago, there were naturally questions that tormented my heart and mind, especially in the first two days and then persisting through the nighttime hours when fears and grief seem to inevitably expand in the weight of darkness.

Why, God?
What did I do wrong?
Where are You in this?
Why won't You make it all go away?

I would say day by day except that early on it truly was moment by moment, He washed me with the Word, some verses becoming so familiar that at times I would find my lips forming the words even before awakening fully came. I clung so very desperately to the hope of eternity, to the promise of His love.

The truth is that I had to; I felt emptied and stripped of everything else.

I distinctly remember standing at the kitchen sink one evening shortly after we had brought Aubrey home from the neonatal intensive care unit, washing dishes, a candle flickering on the window sill before me. I could hear the sounds of Daniel readying children for bed upstairs. The furnace was blowing, comfortingly noisy, and everything was very normal after an up-until-then turned-upside-down fall.

Except that it wasn't normal.

My infant daughter had a totally messed up heart; a heart so unique in its messed-up-ness that nobody could even tell me what to expect, nobody could tell me what kind of surgery she would need, nobody could tell me how long she would probably live.

The sick, aching pit of it all was there in my stomach, mostly under the surface but my constant companion, all the time.

And that was when the work of the Holy Spirit really began.

I had to stop asking questions. I had to stop the inward tantrum that I wanted to shout at every turn: it isn't fair! I had to stop fearing the worst and dreading the future. I had to give up, put off, lay aside, let die in order for the fruit of the Spirit to grow large in my heart and life.

Again, He washed me with the Word and He began to teach me how present He is in the midst; how to be thankful in every situation; how to treasure the eternal ways I had been permanently changed by Aubrey; how to cherish each moment better through having learned more intimately just how fragile life really is. He taught me how to see His handiwork in the darkest moments I had ever faced.

Fast forward seven years: seven years full of celebration, miraculous sustaining, marvelous good health! Moments along the way of testing and worry and battle, but a victory journey-- including coming off of all medications within a few short years-- overall, especially as time after time, the inevitable (but "the what kind" still up for debate) surgery gets pushed off yet again as Aubrey's vibrancy and vitality has made it unnecessary to undertake something so risky.

Still, in July I felt the familiar tentacles of fear wrapping around my heart as I began noticing Aubrey's coloring turning blueish more frequently. In spite of a less-than-humid summer, she complained about the heat and the sun more than usual. Fingers and face and toes got swollen much more easily. Her own awareness of the limitations of her heart dawned and now it was not only my eyes but also her own eyes filling with tears about it all at times.

Finish that off with confirming her poorest blood oxygen saturation levels yet (79%) in August.

Another opportunity to walk in faith. Another opportunity to reject the questions, the raised fists, the doubts. Another opportunity to give up, put off, lay aside, let die in order for the fruit of the Spirit to grow large in my heart and life.

And now to let Him grow large in her heart and life, too.

I don't know what the rest of Aubrey's days will look like. I have learned and continue to learn that I don't need to know with her any more than I know with the rest of my children. The same God who holds each of our lives in His hands holds her life, too. He has proven that He works and He works and He works. In me. Through me. In her. Through her. To grow, to build, to further.

We continue this victory journey, knowing that the real victory is when we stand before Him, face to face, and declare once and for all, "You are faithful to the end."

the real-deal nitty-gritty!

Well, we got our Big Rocks in today.

But sometimes that means the Pebbles and Sand don't get in.

Just keepin' it real, folks!

details on chore charts and flow charts and daily charts

Now that I've gotten into why I make these charts, here are some details about what is our day:

After playing around with wake-up times, I've settled into an approach that firstly values my kids getting the sleep they need and secondly accounts for making sure we're getting the important things done before I've completely lost all hope for the day's productivity (ha!). There was no great scientific study that went into this. I simply noted what time they were all generally awake by and went from there. For us, this is 7:30am. They pretty much have to be sick to sleep later than that. It's just the way they are. After that, I figured out the "big rocks" for our family-- the things that are the most important in each day for us-- and put those in first so that even if the train of our day totally derails, we have usually finished what I truly care most about.

(More on the "big rocks" another time.)

By 7:30am, I have changed diapers, wiped the sleep from my eyes, had my personal quiet time, and tied my running shoes. Sometimes I've had a chance to start breakfast prep or make my bed, but those are the really good days and not the norm, I'm afraid. I head out the door while the troops all prepare themselves for the day (often, the little girls are already dressed by then since they tend to rise shortly after the little boys). If Daniel is home, he watches the little boys (he's always had his quiet time and gone running or is home from a meeting by this time, as he's a natural-born morning person!); if he's not home, I throw them in the double stroller and leave the older 5 behind. This is a perk to having fairly competent and responsible 10- and 11-year-olds in the house (hang in there, Mama of little ones: your day will come!), but I'm not sure how it will work once the temperature is -15 degrees outside.

Around 8am, I am back so Bronwyn watches Elliot while Gabriel or Jackson makes breakfast and I oversee. The little girls often get a jump on their housework for the day.

Breakfast and family devotions around the table. Daniel likes to be home for this, but it doesn't always happen and that's okay. We've been working through Leading Little Ones To God for the past year or so, taking breaks from the book at times to talk about things that come up and need to be talked about and addressed. I've used a couple different devotionals over the years and this is my favorite so far.

At 9am, we get to our chores. A big and little kid are partnered for every meal clean up. Other chores at this time include cleaning various rooms of the house, checking on the chickens' food & water and collecting any eggs that have been laid, starting beans or soup for lunch, making granola, etc. Oh, and I try to get a shower somewhere during this hour.

School work keeps us busy from 10-12:30. We begin with read aloud, which includes all the kids. Then we do history or science (alternating days), which is also combined. After that, it's like a puzzle, making sure the two computers are available for the right kids for math (they take turns with it while working at language and handwriting) and keeping Elliot and Oliver busy while I work one-on-one with Aubrey.

Lunch is at 12:30pm. Bronwyn mostly makes it with help from me based on the predetermined menu plan: rice bowls, soup, PB&J, tuna lettuce wraps, etc.

From 1-2pm, kids go outside for play and fresh air and I try to join them for at least part of it if at all possible. Oliver usually goes down for his nap somewhere between lunch and this time.

At 2pm, I put Elliot down for his nap and call kids in. The little girls rest with books while the older three kids work on various assignments.

From 3pm on, I try to make sure they mostly have free time. Daniel's day off is on Tuesday and he's started giving Gabriel guitar lessons, which is simply replacing what was the old piano lesson slot for the duration of this semester. Literature group on Thursdays means our post-lunch schedule is all a little different and Friday School on Friday means our day is entirely different (and the best, as far as the kids are concerned-- and I think it's pretty terrific, too!).

I have a whole hour for dinner so that we can eat a little late if need be, linger around the table when possible, or eat at the front-end in order for Daniel to get out the door for evening meetings. At 6:00pm, the Kitchen Patrol crew gets busy while the others do a House Blitz (every single room in the house gets a quick tidy). After that, we rotate movies, wii, and board games in the evening hours. It's extra-special when Daddy is home for it!

Here is a sample schedule for inquiring minds. I know it's not the clearest image, but hopefully you can read it okay. I just use Pages and make a table-- it's nothing fancy. I have one of these for each of my four "school kids". Aubrey can't read it on her own yet, but it helps to have something I can have one of the other kids read to her when my brain is just too tired to figure out what she should be working on at any given moment.

Oh! One thought: my older kids are getting to the point where they can't always finish an assignment in the given time slot or, for example, I've checked their language and handwriting while we eat lunch and they have some things they need to correct/re-do. For the sake of computer and instrument and my personal schedule/routine, I have them simply close the book/chapter/lesson and get to the next thing; they can use some of their free time to finish the assignment later on. (Generally, this doesn't happen often or take very long!) The only assignment that most often takes place outside of designated "school" time is reading, which they do at night. Even the older three are in bed at 8pm, but they each have a bed lamp and are allowed to read for up to an hour.

And a final note: this is what we get back on track with. It doesn't happen everyday or even mostly everyday! Sometimes I slow it down because I want to deep clean the kitchen/school area (*ahem* Monday *ahem*), or there's a dental or doctor appointment for some/all, or the weather is beautiful and I decide we're going to eat a picnic lunch at the park (*ahem* yesterday *ahem*), or somebody had a new baby and getting a special meal made for them is the most important thing of the day, or one/more of the kids is sick and half my day is spent tending to them, etc. Our schedule is simply what we get back to when we're aiming for a routine day. My oldest son is a very orderly, rule-oriented person by nature and I am constantly reminding him that I made the schedule and I get to break it!

So make those routines, Mamas, and set expectations that are realistic yet growth-oriented. But please don't let some idea of what the perfect school week looks like become a burdensome thing. This is just one more tool in your tool belt. The goal is not to obey the routine; the goal is to raise up arrows who know what it is to love God, work hard, serve their family, and cherish learning!

on chore charts and flow charts and daily charts

**I often feel reluctant/apprehensive when sharing our "systems." Not everyone is a list or a chart kind of person, and that's okay. No two families will benefit from the same routines, and that is wonderful! That said, I also know how much I appreciate seeing what others do. Even if I don't utilize a single specific idea shared, it often is enough to get the "juices" flowing afresh for me and my own home, so here goes nothing!**

First off, please know that, even for me-- someone whose mind thinks in terms of structure, patterns, charts, and systems-- the realities of life with babies and toddlers and young children forces me to let go of some a lot of my need/desire for systems. Oh, these years can be trying on my soul! Every ten minutes requiring new evaluation for what is a reasonable expectation of behavior and productivity! Flexibility, the name of the game! Holding plans loosely becomes essential and being quick to readjust priorities imperative!

Let me be clear that a structure, schedule, flow chart, system needs to serve you and your family. You are not a slave to it. It's there to help you. And when it doesn't help, don't think twice about making exceptions or throwing the whole thing out the window!

So yes: flexibility is key.

But even since they were very little I've had chore charts of some variety because as much as children require flexibility, they also benefit tremendously from routine-- even if it's just the routine of how we wake up and how we go to bed.

Around here, first it was a traced hand with our basic Five Fingers routine hung in the bedroom when I had just four little ones, then ages 4-1/2 and under. Then pictures of additional tasks on magnets on the fridge got added in. Another year, a wheel that rotated responsibilities. In the last several years, it's as simple as columns and rows. Sometimes rewards and checkpoints of different kinds accompany these columns and rows, but for three years the columns and rows don't change except to expand and challenge and stretch my young charges.

These days, it's five kids all pitching in to help while the two littlest ones tag along. We work together. I have my jobs while they have theirs. Chicken duty, meal prep, bathrooms and bedrooms. Sweeping and vacuuming and dusting and washing and baking. There are extra things that come up; days when I scratch the "normal" list and make one that is much more comprehensive, perhaps in anticipation of a holiday or trip or party.

Chores have been a constant these years. Work is important. When and how that takes place has changed over the years, but always there.

Always as unto the Lord, though.

Always, I try to tell them: we do it well because He is always watching and He is always worth our best effort, our sincerest worship.

Gradually, as homeschooling year rolled into homeschooling year, we settled into a consistent morning routine: Five Fingers, personal quiet time, breakfast prep, breakfast & family (sometimes with Daniel, sometimes not) devotions, chores. These things almost always come before we get into the school books. Clean children + a clean house = better productivity, in my experience.

(But maybe we're weird like that.)

Still, that was really it in terms of a "schedule".

But last year as I approached my second year of homeschooling four children who are fairly close together in age with two-going-on-three little ones underfoot, I realized that for all the years I had spent letting go, this was the time to regain some more structure.

Only now, not so much for my sake as for theirs.

For my oldest three children, in particular, there needed to be more ahead-of-time knowledge about what a good school day looked like from my perspective. They are not mind-readers. And the training of having them come to me and ask, "What's next?" was actually starting to drive me batty: "Gabe, I am changing a diaper while Aubrey is sounding out letters in my ear and Claire just dumped the entire basket of Little People all over the floor right next to me and Jackson is running the vacuum while Bronwyn is washing dishes to the tune of top-of-the-lungs-singing. I have no idea what's next, so for the love of everything peaceful, please don't ask me, What's next!!!!"

So not only does more structure helps them to know in advance what I want from them, it also relieves me of trying to stay one step ahead of each kid, which was just leaving my head spinning.

Thus, our daily "schedule".

It's written down according to times, but let me let you in on a secret: it's really more of a general outline! I have to estimate about how long things will take simply so that our mornings aren't perpetually running into our afternoons, so that the piano is free for each kid at a time they can use it, so that everyone gets a computer when required for various subjects, etc, but that's really all the more reason why there are times on the chart. Breakfast sometimes gets eaten earlier, history sometimes takes longer, etc.

This has all been so helpful around here because now my three oldest kids don't have to ask me, What's next? They simply reference the chart and work through their day in a fairly self-governed way. Life saving for all of us, I tell you.

Now, it's nothing fancy. But it helps them know what to anticipate. It helps them keep at the things they need to be at whether or not I am tied up with little ones.

We are by no means a well-oiled machine. There are hiccups regularly. I have learned to not measure the success of a plan or a routine by whether or not it is flawless; none of them are. But is it realistic? Is it stretching them while not crushing them? Is there time for them to be children: to play and draw and dream? Are they getting the sleep they need? Are they learning new responsibilities?

We adjust. We tighten up. We grow. We adapt.

Prayerfully faster and with more flexibility than we did yesterday!

Next: what's on the daily schedule.

stealing summer

Maybe it's because of an unseasonably cool August.

Or because we've officially started our school year.

Or because these simple evenings with long shadows and Daddy around are mostly come to an end.

All I know is, tonight felt like we were stealing summer.

I soaked it in: smells, colors, sounds.

This man, manning his manly station.

A table, laden with foods of the season.

A bleach-blonde boy, grinning across at me.

I love fall.
I love routine.
I love teaching my children.
I love candles.
I love afghans.

But I have also loved this summer.

preparing for a new school year

The end of the summer is a time of gearing up in our home, as it is in most homes, I suppose.

I also find that it's consistently a time of reflection for me.

When we close the books in late May each spring, I am too glad to be done with the school year for much consideration or analysis of any kind! That always comes a few months later as I clean out the school shelves in preparation for new arrivals (yes, I admit to being the mom who simply closes the cupboard door instead of putting things away properly on that final school day!), as I revamp the chore charts and consider areas my children have grown in and areas they yet need to progress in, as I begin to mull over what our priorities for this year should be based on what worked and didn't work last year, as I wrap my mind around the fact that my children are growing at the speed of light and-- oh!-- my heart might break as I try to keep up.

our school cupboard: nothing beautiful or professional or earth-shattering, but it works.

I feel like I learned a lot last year.

About how to manage the needs of the varying ages in my home. About how to prioritize the one struggling to read even though I just want to pore over the history books and articles with my oldest one. About how to pace ourselves so that learning and school is a success. About how to set individual and unique goals for each one. About how to ask for help when I just don't know how.

But now it's time for a new year.

I sit down and process. Lists start flowing. Books get ordered when necessary and requested from the library when possible. In one fell swoop I empty the school shelves and throw almost everything I possibly can away: workbooks from last year that represent hard work and character formed and minds applied fill the trash bin to overflowing. The chore chart gets rearranged in order to stretch and challenge each child a bit more so that they can be shaped a bit more into the young man/woman they are becoming.

our daily guide and objectives-- I took time this year to make one for each child since I'm realizing my older children, in particular, benefit from knowing ahead of time what I more or less expect from them each day.
 

This year, though, along with the dreams and goals and visions I have of what I want to see in them, I am acutely and almost painfully aware of what I want to see in me.

I want to lead in kindness.
I want to liberally praise growth and effort and good works.
I want to instruct patiently.
I want to laugh more.
I want to pull the little ones close and read one more book every. single. day.
I want to hold my tongue.
I want to be thankful.
I want to be quicker to pray and slower to lecture.

Eight years ago, when Jackson was just a baby, I heard a wise woman speak about how we bring our children home to change them, but God brings them home to change us.

I feel this so strong: I want to look more like Jesus this year.

And as acutely aware I am of how much growth I need, I am equally aware of how unable I am to produce this in myself. This is Holy Spirit fruit.

I am His pupil and He is the teacher. He gives me my curriculum:

Draw near to God.
Abide in the vine.
Keep His commands.
Come boldly before the throne of grace.
Walk in the way in which you were called.
Delight in His law.
Give thanks in everything.
Pray without ceasing.

I am thankful that He is the Good Teacher; the Faithful Father; the Completer; the Provision I need. I cling to this promise that as I give myself to the process, He is the Potter and He is at work in me.

There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.

Philippians 1:6, The Message

my two little boys

Elliot Hale (27 months old) and Oliver Richard (6-1/2 months old)

These boys couldn't be more different. They hardly look like brothers and they are opposite in almost every way. The compare and contrast exercise has been absolutely fun and hilarious when it comes to the two of them.

The chunky lover-of-nursing; the "I'd much rather be playing ball than eating" toddler.

The happy-go-lucky baby; the determined and opinionated boy.

The one full of smiles for anyone who will take the time to visit; the one preoccupied with the task at hand.

The soft and sweet; the resilient.

I look at them and marvel at God's plan. I can't help but think there will be much iron sharpening iron in their relationship-- sparks that prayerfully Daniel and I can guide them through so that they both emerge from the refining fire more purified and ready for service in the Kingdom. I already see how they have the potential to be such assets to one another. I [no longer secretly] hope that God will partner them in much throughout their lives.

They already have great affection for each other. Built in buddies. It's a blast to have boys back-to-back. I've never done this before! We've had "the big kids" and "the little girls" and now we have "the little boys," too!

Too. much. fun.

the Oliver update

Oliver is almost 4 months old now. He is generally a peach of a baby, I must say. Attached to me? Most definitely. Happy when with me? Yes.

I couldn't ask for more.

Since he was about 5 days old, he's gone anywhere from 7-10 hours straight at night (with 10 being more common!)-- though in the past week we've shared more wee hours together than in his entire life up until now, thanks to a springtime cold that has been making the rounds around here. Even with the congestion, he will sleep a solid 6 hours or so before waking with some coughing that simply calls for Mama.

That said, during the day he's been a fickle little guy when it comes to sleep. For weeks he slept for hours of each day happily. In the Moby wrap only, thankyouverymuch. Then he decided he was over naps anywhere and I was lucky if I got 40 minutes in a row. However, in the past 2 weeks or so he's settled into a more consistent pattern of a shorter morning nap followed by a slightly longer afternoon nap, and these he takes in his bed, thankyouverymuch. Good thing, too, because he is getting chunky and carrying him around (even in a comfortable wrap or my trusty Ergo) is downright tiring!

He still does love to be held in a carrier of some sort when awake. As the weather turns and we've gotten to take walks, he will snuggle right in, occasionally looking up at me and smiling the warmest smile I've ever seen.

I'm not even kidding.

But the baby is enormous. I mean, I've had chubby babies, but he takes the cake! I am not exaggerating when I say that he is wearing clothes Elliot wore just a year ago. He is not just round, but also long! After the exhausting, wearisome first 3 months of Elliot's life as we struggled to get into any good patterns of any kind-- including growing-- this has been a welcome change. He has not only thrived as much as any of my other babies, he has far surpassed. God didn't have to do that, but I think He did just for me.

Just to bless my heart and remind me that it's really not about me. Not really.

Oliver enjoys his baths. He enjoys anyone who will talk to him, rewarding them with big smiles that reach all the way to his eyes. He enjoys when Claire entertains him, a task she is given at least once a day when I need to shower or make dinner or switch the laundry or some other such thing.

He does not, however, enjoy his car seat. If we get in the vehicle and he's not ready to sleep, we get about 10-15 minutes of him looking around happily before he decides he'd just much rather have me holding him. And let me tell you: once the crying commences, it persists long and loud. With all the other kids, we've made a long-ish trip by the time they were 4 months or so and, generally, it was fine. I have felt rather thankful that we've not had any trips planned because Oliver is far from a great traveler-- so far, anyway.

Growing, seeing more and more, recognizing voices and experiencing new things (the sun!), absorbing his surroundings, settling into patterns and just as fast settling into new ones. I can't believe how quickly these months are flying by.

But mostly I can't believe how lucky I am to be this sweet boy's mama.

12 weeks

It's been 12 weeks since we met our own special Oliver.

And how beautiful each day with him has been.

My gentle giant is happy and huge. He's already wearing 6-9 month clothes, filling them out in both width and length. He still sleeps at least 8 hours straight every night.

He doesn't want to be anywhere but near me during the day but, quite frankly, I'm pretty much more than okay with that.

Wouldn't you be?

winter days

This January has been one of the coldest I can remember. The temperatures have been bitter. Bitter. Last night, for the first time in my life and despite how childish and immature I knew it really was, I felt almost angry about just how cold I have felt for so many days.

The cure to discontent is thankfulness.

So this morning I am giving thanks...

for candles in the early morning light

 for baby yawns and baby snuggles

for brown paper packages tied up with string, just because

for soft places to land when sickness strikes

for hot drinks around the school table

 

 

for warm gifts from friends

 

 

for cozy dinner tables

 

 

 for a little girl's creativity on busy school days

 

 

 for blueberry pies

 

 

 for a superbly content baby

 

for sweet sibling love

 

 

for science experiments just before bed

 

 

 for a few days here and there that are warm enough to get outside and enjoy

 

 

 for a rearranged kitchen to keep us from going entirely stir-crazy

for fun with Daddy when he's home unexpectedly for lunch 

 

 

It's been a good January after all.