little graces

This has been a doozy of a week month. I am in a constant state of feeling behind, having to pull back, being certain I'm in over my head, losing my cool, and crying. Blame it on hormones, blame it on anemia, blame it on homeschooling, blame it on busyness, blame it on what you will: at the end of most each of these days, while I'm too tired to even figure it out, I'm not too tired to fall into bed, cry some more, and think, I don't want my kids to remember these days as frenzied, harried, unpleasant days. Jesus, help me tomorrow!

We have been in survival mode and as much as I'd like to think that would simplify things enough to bring some accompanying peace, it hasn't worked as well as I'd like. And when I was reading a book to my littlest ones the other night, Claire asked me very sincerely, "Mom, do you even know how to make cookies?" and I realized how long it's been since I took time for many extras. It just about broke my heart.

Combine those types of prayers, those sorts of realizations, and my melancholy disposition, and you get a mama who is frequently convinced that she is ruining her children's lives.

(I'm not dramatic at all when it comes to self-analysis. Ha.)

About a week ago, though, I felt the nudge of the Holy Spirit, the reminder to start taking pictures again. Not because I'm a good photographer. (I'm not.) But so that I can see again. See the everyday things, the moments that sneak in when I least expect them, the small provisions that remind me of His love, the little graces woven throughout my day by the One who holds it all together.

Peace, after all, isn't a certain amount of order, productivity, or accomplishment. Peace is a Person. A Person who has made Himself present in my reality, who has chosen to be close to the weak. There is tremendous comfort to be found in this, and when I stop long enough to let it soak into my heart, I find that I can look around again and overflow with how abundantly rich each day is.

 Stolen leaf fun on a busy day.

This man coming to my rescue with finishing a job that I just didn't have time for... again.

 Beauty all around me.

All around me.

 Meals that keep getting made I don't know how. Honestly, each evening when we sit down at the table, I'm not quite certain where the energy for even the simple offerings (I am rocking the one-pot meals these days!) came from, except to say that most afternoons when I am sure I just don't have another ounce to give, Jesus supplies and the veggies get chopped and the meat gets browned and the rice gets cooked and the table gets set and the candles get lit and--just wow-- thanks, Lord, for meeting me in the very, very basic moments of life.

Big sister and little sisters and precious memories being made.

Tenacious little blooms hanging on even as I cut down the dead plants and rake out the gardens.

Reminders that even if we're not getting as much math done as I'd hoped, and even though the last science experiment was a flop, and even despite the constant interruptions in our schooling thanks to the busy 18-month-old, they are learning and they are growing and they are discovering-- again, all thanks to Him and the curiosity He deposits in their little minds and no thanks to me.

A promise kept from generation to generation, testifying of the goodness and holiness and graciousness of my God.

Friends who love on and invest in and encourage my kids.

Beautiful apples at a cheaper-than-expected price and the best kind of help in putting up jars and jars of applesauce for the long winter months ahead.

The privilege of homeschooling these kiddos. I am so, so, so, so thankful that I get to be the one sharing in their daily discoveries, struggles, accomplishments, and growth-- and I do not take it for granted!

Finding time to bake an apple crisp and to include this special, growing-too-fast girl in the process so she can know for sure that, yes, even Mama knows how to make something special every once in a while!

Dinners with the ones I love. Even though the food is simple and although mealtime can't always include that favorite face at the opposite end of the table, we laugh and we break bread and we gladly scarf down every bite because, well, this family can eat.

Chipping away and halfway there in one quick afternoon. Gratitude for when tasks go more quickly and effortlessly than usual.

re-calibrating

Tonight, I breathe a deep sigh.

Five children are tucked in bed, the littlest ones sleeping and the bigger ones reading. Gabriel and Daniel are out at Monday Night Classes. Right now, it is quiet and it is peaceful and I am alone with my thoughts.

But earlier couldn't have been more different. Earlier was loud and earlier was chaotic and earlier was me saying faster than I was thinking, barking orders quicker than I could even process the necessity of them, caving to my emotions instead of Truth.

The other night she asks, "If someone were with you 24/7, would they still want to be like you?"

She didn't ask it in a, "Get your life together, honey!" sort of way, but in a, "Would they see Jesus in the midst of your everyday-ness," sort of way.

And I can't stop thinking about it.

This evening, before the husband arrived home and took the 20 minutes he had before needing to leave again to patch me up and put me back together, I was a hot mess. And that question quickened to my mind again and angry tears smarted in my eyes that it would even dare come into my consciousness in such a moment.

Why does the bar have to be set so high? I cry.

And sooner than I can even ask, I know why.

He has been reminding me often these past weeks.

So that you will know it isn't you that holds things together, and so that you will know it is My power that transforms you from the inside out.

Oh, but it stings. It stings to be reminded yet again of how just frail I am on my own; just how rotten and sick and  helpless. It stings to even be in this season of very practically coming face to face with my own physical limitations, of realizing once more just how finite my strength and stamina are.

In fact, it even shows me how little faith I have. Because at times like this I realize how much I doubt, how often I wonder, Can you really do what you say You will do with me, Lord?

The thing is, when I step back and I am honest and tearfully confess my unbelief and I ask Him how it will be different tomorrow, He reminds me that I am His. He reminds me that it is His Gospel at work in me that is the difference-maker. He reminds me that those things, those sins that I so often return to, have no power over me any more. He reminds me that He never tires of me throwing myself upon His mercies, again and again and again and again. He reminds me of how present a help He wants to be in times of distress and in times of weakness. He reminds me that peace is not order, it is not cleanliness, it is not meeting all the needs around me, it is not my having it together-- He is my peace.

And you He made alive, who were dead in trespasses and sins, in which you once walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit who now works in the sons of disobedience, among who also we all once conducted ourselves in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, just as the others.

But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up together, and made us sit together in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, that in the ages to come He might show the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grave you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.

twelve years

Twelve years ago, on a chilly October evening, we said I do and pledged ourselves to one another.

We didn't know what we were doing.

I don't think anyone really does, regardless of whether they are 19 or 29 or 49.

But he loved me, I was sure of that. And I loved him.

And I knew we would serve Jesus together.

Twelve years later, I am more certain of his love for me.

I love him more than I did then.

We have served Jesus together, and He has walked so faithfully with us.

When we said I do, He said I do, too.

I am thankful for Daniel, for our marriage, and for our covenant-keeping God.

the babe update

We are full-fledged pregnant these days.

Not that I wasn't before, but it took a while this time around for the symptoms of pregnancy to really kick in. At this point, I am enjoying all the side effects (or "collateral damage," as I am more prone calling them) pretty much daily: insomnia, pelvic aches, indigestion/heartburn, trouble reaching my toes, dizzy spells, etc. While it continues to humble me that this is all the more I have to contribute to the amazing process that's taking within, there is the increasing awareness that I am making contributions to what's happening.

31 weeks and grow-ing!

At my 24-week appointment, I measured 4cm shy of where I was "supposed" to be. At my 30-week appointment, I was only 1cm shy. We are taking a lot of ground in the past 2 months, as evidenced not only by the measurements that are rapidly catching up, but also by the numbers on the scale, my increasing sense of "big," and the never-ending hunger/cravings I seem to have.

Between hunger and heartburn, food manages to be both my best friend and worst enemy.

My iron levels are low again. My hemoglobin dropped from 11.7 to 9.4 in a short seven weeks and my hematocrit is down to 28% (for reference, "normal" is 12-15 and 38-46%). I'm trying so hard this time around, yet anemia seems to simply be part and parcel for me when pregnant. It's discouraging when my efforts have been so heightened. I'd be lying to say I don't mind the weakness, dizziness, and heart palpitations that accompany anemia (I actually hate it all), and perhaps what's even harder than the physical affects are the emotional ramifications of this increasing exhaustion/weakness. Particularly in the past two weeks, I find myself easily overwhelmed, overly sensitive, and quickly done in. Frequently of late the Lord has had to remind me that there are always seasons in life when I "run out," but that He doesn't.

Good reminders, I tell you.

And I'm trying to keep perspective: this is worth it.

SO worth it!

Before we know it, we will meet this little person. A season of 12-ish weeks of being abnormally tired and weary is altogether short in the grand scheme of things. The joy of a new life, a new destiny, will overwhelm any memories of the small price I had to pay.

Don’t you see that children are God’s best gift?

the fruit of the womb his generous legacy?

Psalm 127:3