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Monthly Archives: June 2011

This was my day May 13, 2011. Jesse has only missed one Christmas and Thanksgiving but he seems to rarely be home for Easter or Mother’s Day so I had a day with just my three boys, eating at one of our favorite spots after church, goofing around and taking lots of photos. It was fun to just do whatever I wanted to do, and they were so sweet to hug and pose for me to have my fill taking their pics! And since it was my day, I even indulged in a piece of chocolate cake!

It was one of those days that lets you know being a mom is worth it, really worth it. My lululemon bag says, “Children are the orgasm of life”, and I think they are onto something…

As I edited these pics and stared at my bag of new yoga clothes I tried to figure out if I had some deep thoughts on this day (I sure did last Mother’s Day) This year I have come full circle and it seemed I should have something transcendent to say. But really on this day, my Happy, Happy Mother’s Day, I was just thankful, so very thankful. As the chocolate filled our tummies and the light glinted golden through the old buildings I just sank down into quiet, satiated gratitude, savoring this perfect moment framed by windblown flowers and graced with little boy giggles. Silently I renewed my vow to follow Mary’s example and treasure these things in my heart. I don’t want to let even one slip away, hidden from view by dirty diapers, brotherly disagreements, screaming kids and tired mommies, the ordinary hurdles I run each day. Amidst the chaos that tries to mask the beauty I don’t ever want to forget …

– 5 year old Aaron, obsessed with collecting bugs, calling grasshoppers “Hoppers” and praying mantis “Probis

– 3 year old David, throwing his arms wide open for a hug and crying “I ruv u a lot so much, I ruv u a rot so rot” over and over and over and over…

– how proud they were when they took their training wheels off

– how sweet they are when I am sad

– wrestling and airplanes flying, explosions, sound effects and soundtracks

– the joy in their eyes when they show me their newest magnificent Lego creation

– singing and prayers, Psalm 23 and air kisses each night before bed

– little boys digging, digging, digging

– little hands full of flowers picked for me

– baby man tucked close to my chest, along for the ride, falling asleep as I nuzzle his soft, soft hair

– their ravenous appetites for learning, unabashed applause for God’s creation

– curling up to read a book, arms around them, head on their chest and tickle their tummies

– little boys running to me sweaty and covered with dirt, their smiles tell me all is right with the world

– seeing them learn to turn to God when all is not right with the world, giving Him their sin, pain and frustration

– little voices telling me they have trusted Jesus, telling me they “love God the most!”

– soft sun through the window, everyone plays quiet and the babyman cuddles with me

– how they never run out of energy or ideas

– little feet I love to smunch turning into bigger feet learning to do so much

– “Your soooo nice Mom” when I make them cookies, muffins, smoothies or popcorn with M+M’s

– early morning snuggles in bed

– babyman right by my bed, nursing in the night and tucking him, a little bundle back under his blanket

– gardening – we dig, plant, water, anticipate, harvest and eat, and they remind me what a miracle it is!

– how David loves to be “a rittle boy”, my “totographer” who plays his “tutair”

– my “builder man” Aaron and all his AMAZING creations

– Jeremiah’s wiggly fingers and toes and his smile quick to light up his face, just to tell you that life is good and you are adored

– our  sugar cookie Aaron hating the beach as a baby, turning into a three year old Navy Seal crashing into the surf

– 5 year old David becoming a fishie at swim school

– how David always wants to “watch a movie” cause he is a “movie head”

– “Nemo wishie”

– “Hey hey pretty girls I’m Danger” when he learned his middle name

–  kisses on my nose and cheeks, forehead and chin from Danger man

– munching on Aaron’s feet when he was old enough to sit in a cart just to see him squeal with delight

– “smarshmellows, berboons, strawberdies and herrers (transformers)”

– Legos, Legos,Legos!

– “I love you a rot so much, a rot so rot” from little David, arms flung wide and running to hug!

– family bear hugs and David sandwiches with the man I love

– my fourth little boy running free in heaven with our Father

Well that is only a few I guess, more than I could ever document but maybe this will be an ongoing list . . .  Such treasures, I am so undeserving of, gifts that I am so thankful for!

(shot with my 24-70)

This cool cat  is no longer a first grader. oh dear.

And that other cute cat, he is now on his way to first grade. oh wow.

They had Cat in the Hat Day at school awhile back to celebrate Dr. Seuss’s birthday. They came home from their day at class SOOO excited to show off their handmade costumes! I love that they go to a charter school that brings literature and science to life, and where they can be set up for success with math and language arts while not being shoved into a cookie cutter mold.

However, in the spring amidst all of the excitement and relief that comes with completing the school year I am reminded that I am their primary educator and their mom. In the end we are the ones day in and day out working hard and learning together. No one gives the home school mom a giant gold star at the end of the year and amidst the pats on the back for the kid’s job well done, there is the necessary documentation and constant looking ahead to what will happen next year.

Feeling overwhelmed and uncertain of what we had accomplished and what the summer should hold my husband helps me refocus. He reminds me that the state’s formulas showing where they excel and where they need to work extra hard are not the truest barometer of their struggle or success. What God is doing in their hearts is the real deal. And that testing and refining and growing of their character comes in a million different ways, some so very hard, confusing and patience trying, and some glorious, shining little bits of what life is and always should be. My wise man reminds me the reason I do this is so I can be present for all those moments, but our God is the true architect and I can trust Him with them.

So we will still snuggle and read, count in the car and add and subtract as we eat. But summer will be full of all the things summer should be full of! Snuggling in bed till “late” in the morning, swimming and surfing, dirt biking and hiking, campfires and beach cottages, putting the workbooks and schedules away and enjoying lazy days full of meandering play. Because a new school year will come soon enough but little boys that want to build and dig and run for days won’t be little for long, and I don’t want to miss these precious sunny days.

What do you do when you’re empty?

When words hurl reckless and painful, when all you have is not enough and peace dangles ridiculously out of reach,

wait.

How do you fill up the tank when everything is post modern fragmented, empty calories and processed truths?

Do you turn to a drug, a story, a fantasy, a game, an empty promise, a faulty scheme, a tasty morsel, a hopeless lie, or do you

wait?

When we all push away the unpleasantness and end up wallowing in it, when amnesia is a way of life and all is smoke and mirrors,

the only hope for filling is to wait on Him, the saving truth can only be heard by being still.

Wait . . .

 

We walked the sand, looking forward to bringing our baby into this world. We agreed to interrupt the walking only to pick up the most beautiful, perfect stones. After he arrived, quiet and still through screams of pain I counted them, thought they must be significant. Placed them in a box brought back from a memorial trip to Vietnam, brothers searching for a grandfather long gone.

Two months later and I learned I wasn’t empty anymore, filled with a new life, shaky hope and a relentless fear. Two hours after a test and tears of joy and anxiety, I drove through endless pine trees to hold my dyeing friend’s hand while her girls played quiet. Leaving her home, I walked out to my car confused and senseless and found the note, inkjet printed, angel sent and bedazzled. Namelessly, randomly tucked under my windshield wiper it whispered His promises too a heart to terrified, too beaten down to even hope.

Later I sat at her service, greedily eyeing another friend’s baby boy, wanting to run out because I couldn’t stand one more reminder of death’s cold power. Surprisingly then, the riddle was explained. I sat in shock, the chaplain reading how God had told Joshua to have the 12 leaders take 12 stones from the Jordan and make a monument to always remember what God had done for them, to tell their children. I went home aching for her family, just wanting to hold my baby and fingered my 12 stones, 11 beautiful white ones, only one dark one. And I noticed the dark one was fading, growing lighter, and I wondered what He would do, what victories would I be able to tell my children of, and would I remember?

 

So much to remember now, to build a monument to – A baby born, boys growing strong and loving true, a husband never leaving, a pastor stitching marriage vows together again, beauty and nature, prayers answered and rest given, moments too numerous to count, events too magical to describe. Staying home, schooling my boys, holding them tight, trying to pick up the beautiful stones and let the sand slip through our fingers, forgiving and even forgetting a little…

The first Easter after our Joshua journeyed to heaven we sang and read and walked on that beach. My sons brought me a shell tumbled and water worn to look just like a bit of bone, and we all remembered – remembered letting him go here, waiting to meet him there…

but do I stack these stones high and move on into the land He has given? or do I stay in that room full of death and pain, do I let fingers of blame drag me back there again and tie me conquered to a world of sin and mistakes?

Even though I build my monuments shakily I WILL stack and re stack as many times as it takes to lead my little men to the side of a Father who loves them Fiercely. He is Not tame but He IS good. In a world gone haywire I will wait for him to fill when I am hopelessly empty, I am always leaking and spilling and breaking again…

yet He always fills,

oh how He fills

 

it started with a flat tire, busted wheel, little boys sprawled out, waiting, hope fading, excitement deflated

and then came Dad, hero as always, saved the day

and off we went through rocks and hills, mountains rising, into the dirt and dust, the wind blasting and the light baking

the dirt – it scrubbed us clean

soaking in to our pores, windswept and nothing matters but a little bit faster

riding it all away and this is the moment, two little boys and this is why

and the light fell golden, sinking down, a minute longer, lingering, grinning

and we fell sweaty, glimmering and caked with the earth – into eachother’s arm

the dirt – it is scrubbing us clean

and we drove home, through perfect light and the Father’s love