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 will keep us

In my kitchen, I have a garland of Scripture verses printed out. Some of them I've put to memorization, others are simply there to catch my eye, both with the hope that more Word will sink deep into my heart and the fibers of my being.

A few weeks ago, this one caught my eye.

I am not a brave person. There have been many mornings in my life when it has all seemed too hard and I desperately want an escape. I bury deep under the covers and I beg for this cup to be taken, for Him to come quickly and just get me out. The flight in me wins over the fight every single time.

Right now, I am facing another situation that brings that inclination to the surface. Perhaps I will write about it soon, but suffice it to say, I have asked over and over and over again that it just be different-- and instead of being different, it just seems to continue.

And so as I looked up from my eggs and vegetables recently, I read these words and tears came quickly.

I do not ask that you take them out of the world,
but that You keep them from the evil one.

You know that feeling of being buoyed by the prayers of another? Suddenly my heart was flooded with the realization that Jesus was praying for me, for me in my present distress, for my heart and my life, for my faith. He knew that at times I would want an escape, that I would want quick deliverance and fast answers, and He knew that there would be days when I would want out of this world with its present-day angst and agonies.

...keep them...

Those two words, over and over and over again in my heart. The knowledge that Jesus made this petition on my behalf. The reality that it has not been left to me to keep myself, but that He will do it for me. He hasn't asked that I be taken out, but He has asked that the God of the universe, the One who holds all in the palm of His hands, keep me from the evil one. He hasn't asked me to fight for myself; He has fought the fight for me.

I don't know what you're facing today. I don't know what private tears you cry, what unanswered prayers you're praying, what loss or grief you're enduring. But I know that the same Lord who prayed this prayer on my behalf prayed it on yours, and He is able to do what He says He will do.

He is able to keep us.

our Christmas

The end of 2014 came as quickly as its beginning. January first found me with such a bittersweet aching in my heart. I felt excited for what lies ahead-- for fresh beginnings and new endeavors, for what God will do and for how He will grow and teach me-- and yet sorrowful for the moments that were gone before my heart had fully learned to appreciate and give thanks in and for them. Being the idealist I am, I often struggle against time, desperately wanting to hang on until I get it right. This process of walking in His grace, of learning that His strength is perfected in my weakness, is one that I am very much still in the midst of.

So the celebration of the passing of time is an important thing for me. To look back and see that although it wasn't perfect, it was life and it was real and it was good because God was present is an absolutely necessary habit.

And indeed, it was a lovely month, our December.

We halted most all our normal school studies in favor of educational activities like baking cookies, writing letters, reading special books, choir practices, and hosting parties.

Dozens and dozens of cookies, I tell you! For our family to have a couple cookies following dinner means we plow through 1-1/2 dozen cookies in one sitting. This doesn't include the couple dozen cookies brought to this party, and then to that event, and then to yet another celebration. Rum logs, gingerbread boys and angels and snowmen, chocolate dipped butter cookies (my personal favorite), and peanut butter blossoms with both milk and dark chocolate kisses. For our CFC Potsdam leadership Christmas party I even took the time to make pecan tassies, which was a recipe I was first introduced to by Daniel's grandma 13 years ago when I was a young bride.

And parties, oh my! In one 4-day span, we had Oliver's first birthday, then the leadership Christmas party, and then a Nutcracker Party for my girls. Such fun to have our home filled with people and candles and laughter and special foods.

There was lingering by the tree and favorite cheesy holiday movies and feasting on special foods, including cupcakes for breakfast because if not at Christmas time, when?

The four oldest kids and I had the special opportunity to sing in a cantata our church put on in mid-December. We had twice weekly practices in which I donned my coat and gloves and Daniel stayed home with the three youngest and I sang for an hour and half or more. It was good to dust off the altogether-rusty sight reading skills and to be part of a big choir again, but most of all I loved the car rides with the kids as we talked about a whole host of things.

There was also the children singing the last Sunday before Christmas with the rest of the junior church kids. I always love seeing everyone dressed festively! And I'm so thankful for the wonderful people who invest so much into these young ones each and every week.

As is tradition, just before Christmas the kids exchange names and we do a family shopping trip especially for them to buy gifts for each other. These are simple gifts, no more than $7 in value, but their delight in choosing something for another always melts my heart. They are really getting the joy of giving and frequently this year confided to me that they were more excited to give their gift than to open any of their own.

Christmas Eve dinner has become ours to host each year for the family (even last year, when Oliver was only 8 days old!) and I really wouldn't trade it for the world. There's a simplicity to it (the menu has been set as long as I can remember!) and yet anticipation is about as high as it comes right around 3pm the day before Christmas! The best of every world, if you ask me. We set the tables for 30, plus a highchair and a baby in arms. We roll meatballs and chop veggies. And mostly we are excited, excited, excited!

This year we had the privilege of some guests from Armenia who were staying with my parents joining us for the meal, and they stuck around for an hour after most everyone else needed to leave to prepare for the Candlelight Service. They took a family picture for us after we'd cleaned up and dressed for our own departure to the church and I couldn't have felt more blessed by this simple act, which gave us our first good Christmas Eve photo in... well... maybe ever!

Of the 48 hours that are Christmas Eve [Day] and Christmas Day, the Candlelight Service at church will perhaps always be my favorite tradition. It doesn't have to be perfect, it doesn't have to be seamless, it doesn't have to have flawless sound engineering or singing or sharing. It just has to be an opportunity for me to take a deep breath between a houseful of guests and the busyness that lies yet ahead before I can go to sleep for the night, an opportunity to remember the Why of all we are doing and to be overcome by the Good News, each and every year, for it to be incredibly meaningful to me.

Jesus came to make a way. During a season when I am even more deeply aware of my inadequacies and imperfections, this message means all the more!

We light candles and sing Silent Night, Holy Night and O, Come Let Us Adore Him and such peace, such gratitude, such acute awareness of His generosity poured out on us who are so unworthy overwhelms me, and I can hardly believe I am the recipient of this kind of love.

And just as quickly we blow out the candles and the overhead lights are turned back on and we are calling out Merry Christmas! and giving last hugs and donning coats and reminding overly wound up children to stay nearby so we don't lose one in the bustling crowd of people who are all trying to leave at the same time!

Once home, the children hurry into their Christmas pajamas, given to them on December first, while I arrange a plate of cookies and make homemade eggnog (our first year to make it with eggs from our very own chickens, so that was fun!) to be enjoyed around the tree before they exchange their gifts to one another. The conversation, of course, revolves around which kind of Christmas cookie is the favorite, and they all feel quite the experts on the subject by this time in the season!

We conclude this time by reading the Christmas story once more. My mom gave us a beautifully illustrated book that tells the story using the King James Version a few years ago and it has become one of my most treasured Christmas books. If you don't have a nice illustrated book that tells the story of Jesus' birth, I highly recommend this one!

This year we kept gifts simple. Stockings had new water bottles and toothbrushes and bandaids and chapstick-- things necessary and yet received gladly, and for that I am thankful. I quickly filled stockings and Daniel assembled the one gift that couldn't easily be wrapped and then I set the table for breakfast the next morning.

That night, Elliot seemed to come down with a bit of a mystery fever. No other symptoms, but it was enough that the next morning he laid on the couch while all the hub-bub took place around him.

Christmas Day is always a blur of activity. Stockings and gifts and games and a special breakfast and phone calls. We joined my family at Mom and Dad's in the afternoon and celebrated more. Thanks to Mom and her amazing gift-giving ability, there were even new clothes for the adults to wear on this special day!

Following Christmas we prepared for Daniel's parents, brother, sister-in-law, and two nephews to be in the North Country for several days. We concluded 2014 and ushered in the New Year with them, as well as with Daniel's sister and her family who live up here, having lots of fun: games, outdoor play, bowling, the movies, and more. It was fun to have all the cousins on the Paladin side together-- 14 in all!

It's in looking back that I find myself stirred for what lies ahead. Not because I see my failures and want to do better, but because I see God's faithfulness and am certain I will see it again.

Oliver's first

Today we celebrated one year of Oliver Richard.

 taken at breakfast-- his first breakfast as a ONE YEAR OLD

Our little man, pleasant and ready to smile and quick to laugh, has made these past months rather idyllic, I must say. He's slept like a dream from day one, nursed and grown like a champ, gone with the flow continually, endured the doting and hauling around and antics of six older siblings, and in so doing captured our hearts entirely.

Oliver may be the seventh baby to grace our lives and family, but it's truer than ever that the miracle of life never gets old: he has been cherished as effortlessly and thoroughly as if he was the first. Indeed, he has perhaps been celebrated all the more because he has an audience of not one or two or three but eight cheering him on in each new endeavor and milestone!

We marked his first birthday with a simple dinner and a few small gifts here at home. Nana and Papa and Uncle Merrick joined us around the dining room table. We lit candles and sang happy birthday and he, of course, didn't have a clue as to what it was all about, but one day he'll look back at pictures and I hope they help him know a little of how deeply loved he is.

I am so thankful for Oliver. Thankful for the fresh grace and the promise of obedience rewarded that he has represented to me. Thankful for the image bearer of God that he is. Thankful for the destiny wrapped up inside him, and for the privilege of stewarding him for this season.

He took in the singing and joined us at the end with delighted clapping!

Cookies, Oliver, and Peace

I am between batches of Christmas cookies: the rum logs have been baked, cooled, and decorated; the chocolate dipped butter cookies have been baked and are cooling (awaiting their chocolate dip); and the pecan tassie dough is chilling in the fridge. It won't be long before the kitchen table-- all 92" of it-- is covered in cookies.

The little boys are presently overlapping naps (this is a precious and usually non-existent occurrence) so while the older kids begin a movie, I cleaned up the kitchen, heated myself some leftovers, and sat down to catch my breath.

Each day this week is plotted out: which foods I need to prepare when, what dishes will be used, when the gifts will get prepared and the final decor arranged. I don't foresee much lingering by the Christmas tree or snuggling up under a blanket for a holiday movie with the kids in my immediate future!

The truth is, I love this work-- this getting ready for special occasions and to celebrate people who mean so much to Daniel and me work!

And somewhere in here, we will sneak in a birthday dinner for the littlest boy in this home. Our delightful, beautiful Oliver Richard. Just this morning I was watching him stand and clap and smile-- such a bright smile that reaches right into my heart!-- and I couldn't help but think that he really is one of the prettiest babies I've ever seen. Peaches and cream skin, ready smile, dimpled hands and arms and legs, twinkly eyes.

A year ago was a snowy Sunday. Many regular attenders didn't even make it out of their driveways to church. The following Sunday we would have to stay at home because of a state of emergency in our state due to winter storms. And right in-between that streak of horrendous weather, we had clear skies and crisp air to accompany a trip to Watertown and back where our little baby was brought into the world.

I was definitely anxious about being induced, but God had a plan.

Oliver Richard means "peace, dominant ruler." The verse on our hearts as we anticipated the birth of our baby was Isaiah 9:6, Of the increase of His government and peace There will be no end. This is a verse, of course, that is on many of our hearts this time of year. We didn't see it as coincidence that we would be drawn to it for our only December baby!

But the idea of the peace of God is a concept I find myself constantly needing to be renewed in over the years, and especially one that I had been chewing on since the spring before when my dad preached a message about Gideon.

Peace isn't a feeling. It isn't an emotion. It isn't a state of everything being perfect.

Peace is Jesus bringing His reign and order to the chaos that is my broken life and this broken world.

And of the increase of that, there will be no end.

Oliver is a prophetic declaration to me, and prayerfully to his generation: there is chaos and darkness, but in the midst of that, God had a plan. He sent His Son to redeem. His reign has been established-- it is finished!-- and the peace that accompanies His rule only increases day by day by day.

I hope that tomorrow, between more Christmas party prep and wrapping a few small things for a simple birthday dinner, I will be able to write more about Oliver. But today, these were the thoughts on my heart as I celebrate my baby's first birthday, as I anticipate Christmas Day, and as I yearn for the day Jesus returns.

December

I doubt that I'm alone in that December is one of my favorite months of the year.

It's not because I like the temperature. (I don't.)
It's not because I like how little daylight we get. (I don't.)
It's not because I like snow. (I do for about a day.)
It's not because I like overindulging in Christmas cookies. (Okay, I do in the moment, but it's always quickly regrettable.)

I love December because a hush seems to fall over me this time of year; a purposeful pause; a deep soul inhaling and exhaling. I always mean to live life in a peace-centered way, but the truth is that some seasons (quite literally) feel more pressured than others.

There's something about December that begs for lingering around a simple dinner table just a few minutes longer.

Something that stops me short in my normal routine and cries out for little opportunities to be woven throughout the day in order to better cherish the people around me.

I wrap myself in a blanket first thing in the morning and open my Bible and here by the tree I find myself considering afresh the kind of God I serve: generous, faithful, pursuing, redemptive. And maybe it's the mood-lighting but really I think it's just that I am rehearsing the Gospel again that makes my eyes fill with tears and my heart fill with hope once again.

I fill the house with candles and freshly baked smells, and there are secret whispers and hesitantly expressed wishes and holiday music. Together, we share these things.

I find myself reaching out more to all those I love this time of year, His expression of reaching out compelling me to a love offering of the same kind. The coffee pot is ready, the cookie tins are filled, the door is open.

Children, their eyes bright, their excitement at times too exuberant (!), their hearts hopeful, their embraces ready.

I pass on the traditions and hope that the traditions in and of themselves never become a burdensome requirement, but simply that they will be memories cherished, truths illustrated, a celebration made big.

Special stacks of Christmas books and stockings hung in a row and-- oh my!-- red beaded garland here and orange and clove garland there and mistletoe garland yet there. Rehearsing music and planning parties. Quiet nights with the agenda cleared.

This is what December means to me:

A Baby, born of a virgin, destined for a Cross. His pain inevitable, His victory certain. God incarnate, with us, with me, here and now and forever and always.

Me, remembering what it's all about, falling in love with my Savior again, growing surer in Who He is and less concerned with who I am, wanting everything about me and my existence-- especially in this season-- to echo the joyous cry:

Glory to God in the highest!

And on earth peace, goodwill toward men.