today

"Bind my wandering heart to thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love;
here's my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above."



My goodness it's November already. The three hours of sleep I got last night is catching up to me. So many things I've yet to write about but time tumbles forward and I'm lagging a little these days. Always little people needing me, things left half done or not done...trying to keep this train running. Life at the moment is so full of good things and hard things but mostly good. The temperature dropped recently and every tree and mountain side is splashed in color. It's breathtaking. It never ever gets old. It's my favorite season when the sky line is draped in flame colors and golden. It's the season I fell in love with Josh. A season that swells with life and color and then fades into brown and fills the sky with tree silhouette lace. The smell is wet leaves and fire and nostalgia. The soundtrack shifts to Rosie Thomas, Album Leaf, Harvest Moon, Yann Tierson and The Cinematic Orchestra. The Fall is always a bittersweet time; a time of remembering some people I've loved and lost.

Two weeks ago today, someone in our mama community died suddenly of a heart attack. One minute she was folding laundry, home-schooling her girls, cuddling her three year old and twenty four hours later she was gone from this earth. She left behind a husband and five daughters. The oldest is sixteen and the youngest is three. She was a doula. She loved babies and helping women bring them into the world safely and peacefully. Most importantly she was a Jesus lover. She was a friend of my husband's and we had several mutual friends. It shook me and our community. Even though she's home with Jesus, my heart broke for five little girls without a mother and for a missing that doesn't leave.
It's funny how everything we're rushing around doing seems so very important to us at the time. I wonder why we so often feel so untouchable and in control. It was a harsh reminder that in a blink, this life on earth is done but that an eternal kingdom awaits. How glorious. Our family prayed for hers and I felt myself want to hold my kids a little longer. It reminded me to tell people what they mean to me.
I think there's a theme to what God is teaching me lately. I am trying to learn how to lose my life and find it in Christ. "This" is not all there is. It is not about my agenda, my desires, my stuff, my comfort or my ease. I don't need more "me" time or more material stuff. I don't need to seize the day, I need to let go of it. I don't need to try to make my plans work, I need to surrender the day to Him who holds me. I want Jesus to have his way in my heart. I want His love to overflow to whoever he puts in front of me. I need to rest in the joy of finding ways to serve those around me. My Spirit is willing but my flesh is weak. I look back on my day and wish I'd held my tongue when I didn't, and accomplished more. I think about my children, these paradoxical creatures, one moment achingly innocent and compassionate and in the next moment chaotic, selfish and infuriating. But when I look at them I see myself...and all of us really. We are all vessels of madness, rage, love, purity and beauty. I'm being reminded as I watch this season unfold, that he is making all things new, even me.

Tonight I'll step over toys and books and kiss my kids goodnight. I'll watch them sleep and not worry about all that's left undone. There's far more to be thankful for that makes the worries pale in comparison. Even when we're short on order, patience, time and energy there is always more than enough love to go around.
My cup runneth over...

trick or treat goodness

apple picking

A few weekends ago we took our annual trip to Mercier's Orchard. Some of my very best memories of Autumn where trekking through apples orchards with my family, riding high on my dad's shoulders, the perfect place to pick from. We'd stuff our cheeks with the tangy apples and cider doughnuts and come home with plenty to make pies with. It's one thing I love about being a mama; getting to relive it with my littles.
Around here everything is mostly still green but the air is getting cooler and we are just starting to see little splashes of color on the tops of the trees. The start of my favorite season never gets old and this year I have a whole new love to share it with.

His wings

This day last week I was sitting in the out-patient surgery wing of the children's hospital. It is a hard place to be...waiting, praying, worrying. Jude has had digestive problems for the last year. We had been to natural doctors, general doctors and a specialist, without resolution. After a frightening episode last week it was time for a deeper look. There is nothing that will shake a parent's heart more than fearing for the health of their child. We were on our knees crying out to God for healing for Juden. Our girls laid their hands on him and prayed over him. I felt weak, needy and anxious. I watched him sleep and prayed the way a fearful mother prays...it was a crying out really, of soul and body. God reminded me that even with the immensity of my love for Jude, He loves Him infinitely more than I ever could. I am in awe that this is how my Father loves me. How can it be?
Juden missed some school, giving me some extra time to be with him. We read and played with Harper and took walks enjoying the early Fall air. It's amazing to learn from my boy about the faith of a child. I write this for two reasons. One; I want to remember Juden's heart and two; because when Jesus visits,I want to tell about it. I can not keep silent. I read Psalms to him while the morning sun drenched the wooden floors where we sat. We watched the day wake up together and greeted the day talking to Jesus. At one point when I was reading I looked up and saw a tear on his cheek. I asked what was wrong and he said he could feel that God was with him. How our God loves to meet with children. I felt a sense of peace wash over me at his words. Sometimes it's hard to trust; hard to come before God and ask boldly for what we want. I've prayed in earnest before and the answer has been no. There is a comfort in knowing that I am clay in His perfect strong hands even in the midst of painful things.
At one doctor's appointment I looked down and noticed that Juden had on a strand of leather with beads he had made at vacation Bible school earlier that year. The colored beads are to help symbolize the story of the gospel. He said he wore it to remind him that Jesus was his protector. It was also the only thing he wanted to take when we went to the hospital. It made my heart swell that He knows who His stronghold is. Later I would watch him wake up and sleepily tell the nurse what each bead meant to him; one of those moments I will forever treasure.

Although I had a deep sense of peace, seeing him lie there, in the sterile environment of the hospital looking slight and vulnerable was hard. It brought up fear and anxiety at what we would be facing. I am so very thankful that the doctor found exactly what I had prayed for. Not only did God relieve what was causing his problems but there was no sign of anything harmful in his body. We are thrilled with good news but also thankful that though the week was filled with sleeplessness, fear and worry it was also filled with moments of brokenness which birthed precious times of worship and prayer as a family when His presence covered us like wings.

*morning & home*

I love the stillness of this...

The Deep End from Kelly Lacy on Vimeo.

*letters*

Dear Joshua Caleb,
Sometimes I watch you from the window playing and laughing with our kids and I see your boy child come out in your Papa self and I fall in love with you all over again.
Some days you are troubled and you question where you are on the journey and if the direction you are going is the right one. I am your fellow sojourner while we are here and wherever God takes you, I will be by your side. As long as Jesus chooses your destination you can be at peace.
Some mornings when you think I am still asleep, I watch you limp through pain waking up. It makes my heart ache and I wish I could take the pain away. But I have seen God bring a softness and compassion to you through it. Pain can do that to a person.
You have walked with me through my dark and wounded places and your fierce love has lightened my burden. I am so thankful you were there.
There is something wild and unconventional in you but also strong and unwavering.You bring a gentle strength to the chaos in our house at times. You are a carrier of joy and your laughter is infectious.
I love how you still bring me flowers and cook me breakfast. You know I've been a sucker for your long curls for years but that new shaved head you're rockin'... so sexy. You are my one and only, darling.
Linda


Dear Post-baby body,
I admit, I've been treating you wrong. I kind of cringe when I pass a mirror and I'm more critical of you than I would ever be of anyone else. I'm sorry I'm so hard on you and I want to start listening to my husband, who reminds me that every scar, bulge, mark and extra pound are a small price to pay for our babies. He tells me everyday that I'm beautiful. You have been a strong safe place that enveloped the tiny cells that then grew and were knit into these incredible wild little creatures. Amazing! I promise to start talking to you like I would talk to my own precious daughters or anyone who is feeling less than the stupidly narrow standards our culture puts on women. I'm going to look away from things that make me feel like S*&#.
I'm going to start saying this to you more ;
"I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well." ~Psalm 139:14

and this;

"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body," (1 Cor. 6:19-20).

I don't think I've said it much but, thank you for nurturing five lives inside of you and making milk to nurse four of my children. Thank you for the ability to run with my kids, dance with my husband and a million other things.
Even though I've been hatin' on you, I really like you a whole lot and I want you to be the healthiest version of yourself so... no more sugar or grains, at least for the next 21 days, kay? I know, I know, but you can do it! You'll thank me later.
Love,
me
(baby Naya)

Dear September,
I am so happy you're here and that you are showing hints of my favorite season more and more. That cool morning air is delicious. I can't wait for leaves and fires and sweaters and strolls under a banner of colors.

the first four months

These first four precious months with you have gone by so fast, baby. You are changing every day. It's been a tired, messy, chaotic, tender and beautiful time. There are days I feel like I need a cook, a house keeper, or a wet nurse or maybe all three. It seems there is always someone who needs me and a long list at the end of my days of things I "should" have done. But God holds us, sustaining us and growing us together. I wouldn't trade any of it for a second.

I have loved watching the bonds between you and your brother and sisters. Night after night before you were born they would each pray for you to come out and Juden wouldn't go to sleep without kissing my belly. Now that you're here you are the star of the family. Sometimes we have to protect you from all the love your siblings want to cover you with. Juden holds you and talks to you and I am awed by his tenderness toward you and the bond that forms between brothers, even so early. Ella acts like your little mommy, putting her cheek on yours when you're sad and singing to you. And Naya too, can't get enough of your sweetness.

You are an incredibly happy little man. Your whole face lights up as soon as you see my face in the morning. You slept through the night on your own at about 10 weeks. On August the 4th, you laughed for the first time, and in that moment, all was right with the world. One week later you rolled over. It seems that every day brings changes and growth. I can hardly catch my breath. You are a joy-bringer, a little healer. You are more than precious. I love waking up to your soft hungry little self and watching the first rays stream through my window.
Here's a little picture overload. How could I resist?