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Monthly Archives: March 2012

These surfers said they were grateful . . .

Infectious joy and gratitude spilling all over the place. That’s the only way to describe these surfers.

I talked to them as they were hanging out at their truck after coming in from the waves so they were probably stoked from a good session, but it was more than that…  They talked of the awesome weather and good waves, but more than that they talked of Jesus.

Jesus, His name just rolled off their tongues and lit up their eyes.

I told them how I had been through some stuff that taught me to try and hold onto gratitude, taught me it’s importance. They talked of going through stuff too and coming back through to Jesus. They talked of all He has done and worshiping Him

They flexed and cheered and and smiled and unashamedly shared their God.

I snapped a few shots of their uncontainable joy, heard what they are immensely grateful for and went on my way. And as I edit these photos and write this post it haunts me… The farther I get from the mess and the miracle the more my gratitude wanes. I feel more reasonable, more in control, the grief loosing it’s strong grip on me, but am I grown lukewarm? The hot, the cold they shatter and engulf but at least they are noticeable. They are not a slow settling, a dwindling joy.

I came home wanting to stir up the ashes, fan the flame, speak only His name. Stop and be quiet so I can see Jesus. And like Isaiah when I see Him, all in me falls down. I cover my mouth, my unclean lips and cry out in shame. Then, then I can thank Him for His mercies – full up with gratitude for just this moment, this undeserveded day in His prescence.

All this to say… They were grateful for Jesus.

Jesus, they couldn’t stop saying His name and it rang through the air.

– This post is part of my We the Grateful project

My oldest little man turned eight. What did he want to do? Where did he want to be… on a snow mountain of course. A snow mountain that had had no snow all winter. We heard there was to be a storm the night before we drove up, would the roads even be open? We shouldn’t have worried, because when this little boy wants snow, God gives it to him. There is a history of freak winter snow storms in places it should never snow when Aaron is around. This time it was just a few inches, making driving up the snow mountain a breeze. And so we arrived in a winter wonderland, or in his mind a winter wilderness.

I don’t think this is the place he became a young man. I don’t think 48 hours changed him. I think it changed me. It’s where I saw what he has and is becoming.

Children. They are just an idea, a dream. Then they take up residence, moving into and occupying every corner of your being, an inexplicably they arrive on the planet. The miracle happens amidst the very utmost of your humanness. You have no idea how they could have actually gotten here but there is no doubt that your heart has forever left your body. They feed at your breast, tug at your ankles, occupy your every waking hour and allow you little sleep. They need and need and need some more. They grant you more than you could have even longed for, giving you what you never knew you always needed. Your adult independence becomes complete interdependence and then they crawl and walk and learn their ABC’s. They toddle forward and you are left packing lunches and organizing playdates. It feels they have grown so big until you look at their Dad and realize how small they still are. Then comes they day you realize what they are bound for . . . their own lives . . .what you are raising them to do . . . leave.

Leave. If they don’t make it to this you will be heartbroken and if they do you will be . . . heartbroken.

He says He is close to the broken hearted. I hope so because I hear there is a lot more to come. Maybe that’s just his way of making sure we don’t grow up so much we won’t hold His hand.

In light of little boys growing up and uncertain futures. In celebration of healthy bodies and a happy family. In spite of and because of all this, we stopped everything and drove up into the sky. UP through beauty into another world and the magic fell thick and the snow covered all. We walked amongst the trees in the wonder of it and knew THIS, this is what he gives. This is why we can look forward to every moment and this He never lets us lose, these moments never fade away. I know this and still I was afraid to look at the images when I came home. How could I possibly have captured even an inkling of that wild magic that ran away with us? But it’s here, simple as a song and deep as the roots run down.

And when we had had our fill of the snow crested mountain we tumbled indoors to warm frozen fingers. We sprawled on couches and drank cocoa piled with marshmallows. We ate beirocks and cake, lit candles and watched the fire dance. Our little survivor man opened gifts of fire starters, multi tools and of course Legos. Always Legos. He ran up into the loft to build and after movies we tucked them in there, the moon shining down the mountainside onto thick quilts tucked under their chins.

It was perfection. The day we drove up into the sky.

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Well I came across some photos I edited and forgot to post! You can check out the start of our time at Big Bear here. And here is the rest of the story . . . what could be sillier to post as we are enjoying basking in the sun at the pool? It’s fun though to look back at the magic of this snowy time as we pull out the sunscreen and bathing suits! That’s the blessing of family, enjoying each part of the year, the ups and downs, seasons and holidays, making the most of the time together.

In January my oldest little man turned eight. What did he want to do? Where did he want to be… on a snow mountain of course! A snow mountain that had had no snow all winter. We heard there was to be a storm the night before we drove up, would the roads even be open? We shouldn’t have worried, because when this little boy wants snow, God gives it to him. There is a history of freak winter snow storms in places it should never snow when Aaron is around. This time it was just a few inches,making driving up the snow mountain a breeze, and we arrived in a winter wonderland.

This is the second morning after celebrating his birthday the night before in a fire lit cabin after building giant snowballs. In the first morning light we rushed up the side of the mountain just to slide down again and again. Wandering through trees, washed in the purest light. After everyone had their fill of fun we stumbled back into our little wooden lodge and refueled on cocoa. Then with hearts that never wanted to leave our mountain hideaway we made our way back down, two hours to seventy degrees and our house by the beach. Ridiculously. Awesome.

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I hoped I had heard the promise. I needed a rainbow. Searched the heavens for it but couldn’t actually see anything. Nothing to hold onto except that whisper saying He would give him to me. Was it a promise or was I just going crazy?

I had lost my precious baby and two months later I had the hope of another inside. Too weak and sick to play or dance with my children, barely hanging onto hope… I drew my rainbow. I couldn’t dwell in all the fear and sadness so I sketched it out, girls full of life and color, dancing the dreams that had once been real to me. It used to be easy to believe – I would grow up, have babies, magically turn into the woman I wanted to be. Now everything seemed crumbling down around me. I shut out the panic howling at the door and spread bits of color round the room. Each day he would come home from work. lean over my shoulder, leave a kiss and look. The kids brightened to see this whimsy, mom happy enough to indulge in creating.

Now my rainbow runs and plays, sparkling light too brilliant to contain but very very real. Real and here and yes it was a promise. I put the drawings away, their colors no longer scandalous, dimming in comparison to our baby’s new life.

The special company that I ordered the announcement of his birth from, his safe arrival. They are looking for art to hang in nurseries, over cribs of other precious little promises, new miracles. And this art will help keep moms and babies around the world safe and healthy – it feels full circle. So I pull the drawings out and hope that they can find a place in this community. You can vote for each of them here. (After you click on the link you can scroll down and click on each ballerina individually and click the rating button on the right side) If you don’t already have an account you can sign up through this link and get $25 for FREE to spend on the site!  Thank you so much for your support and now you know these little ballerina’s story!

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