today

Today I wandered with my three little ones through the graveyard. The sky was a pensive bluish-grey that leaves you with a feeling maybe a storm is near. The wind was sending what's left on the trees sailing toward earth. There is something peaceful about graveyards. Perhaps a sense of perspective comes as you walk past names, dates, history, so many stories, so many dreams. Of all those stories there are some things that you know bond them all, life, love, friendships, brokenness, dysfunction, desires, hope. I feel so very small and a strong sense of the brevity of it all. It's changed though, everything has changed since five years ago today, when I buried my dad. There was a time when he was my strong hero.. doesn't every little girl want her dad to be her hero? We spent sunny afternoons catching sunnies and he hammered nails in mason jars so I could catch fireflies. He was gentle,rugged and invincible. Then one day he was old, frail, vulnerable and dying. He needed help in ways I wasn't ready to have to help him. I found myself sitting in front of him in his wheel chair. He held his paralyzed hand and I tried to help him finish a painting. Golden light came soft through the window of that Autumn day. I saw a sorrow in my father's eyes I had never seen before. It tore at my soul and it was then that I joined the the family of the wounded. It was not that he lacked faith, for he knew where he was going. It's just that life doesn't always fit into our tidy theology. In his eyes I saw a man who feasted on the stuff of life to his very core, the scent of the earth in his hands as he gardened, the poetry of clouds, the faces of his five children and the faces of the little ones he would never meet... he missed it all...even while he was still here. And I could see it in his beautiful ocean gray eyes. I put my cheek on his and went back to mixing oil paints through tear-filled eyes, while he looked at the canvas with a vision that was slipping away. I'm not sure what compelled me to write about this afternoon. It is not a place I go to often but it is real, raw and human and it changed me. And surely there are those memories and pictures in my head that are painful and sacred and beautiful and I keep them locked up tight like a treasure trove, so that they remain untouched, unchanged by the light and air. So, what am I thankful for? I am thankful for my dad, for everything he was and everything he now is. I am thankful for the healing that God has given me and for the wound that with its bearing allows me to see others' wounds and have compassion. I am thankful for my Savior who will put an end to all death and disease. I'm thankful that my dad is home and enjoying life of which all the beauty he knew here was merely a glimmer. I am thankful for the history and the story I carry with me.


"Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea."

part of Fern Hill
by Dylan Thomas

November*a month of thanks* Ella

I am so thankful for my little bug, her spunk and creative spirit. There is something so innocent and whimsical about the art work of a 4 year old. This is one of her self-portraits . I love how she always connects her eyes and it's cute anime quality. Josh is an art teacher and he loves to draw with the kids.I've watched Juden study Josh when he draws making connections. "Oh, that's where the eyes go... that's how you do that." His work changes and grows and matures and I love that. Ella hasn't yet been affected by how things are supposed to be. She climbs up to grab the markers and settles onto her tummy. She makes bold marks with confidence, with out thinking twice.So very in the moment. Paper after paper, rabbits, then butterflies now little Ella's everywhere. I love it. May she always do things with the same resolve, joy and boldness she has now.

November - a month of thanks

It is our hope that we would always be thankful but this month we are talking a little more about it as Thanksgiving nears. This was Juden's list. I dig my little boys list and am so happy that he can spill over with things he's thankful for. He went on to name every single person in our family,every color of the season and finished with "snow as soft as cat's fur." This seemed odd since we rarely if ever see snow around here. Then I remembered that Josh is reading him The Lion,the Witch and the Wardrobe and he is quite intrigued with the snow in Narnia. So this month I want to try to post frequently about things I'm thankful for. After all there are so very many.

being made new

A brand new season called for a fresh look. I thought about adding the tag line, "being made new" and then the same morning listened as my pastor quoted C.S. Lewis from Prince Caspian. The writing of C.S. Lewis always cuts me to the core. Sometimes I imagine chatting over tea like kindred spirits or like he's some long lost uncle. Anyway,it was the part about Aslan cleaning Eustace and making him new again when he could not do it for himself. The imagery is poignant, raw and painfully beautiful. It is my story too. God is completing a work in me. 2Cor. 5:17 "Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new." Sometimes I wish I could do God justice. That His spirit inside me would shine through like some tiny glimmering pearl but too often I feel like all my stuff gets in the way, glaring and obvious.When I'm peaceful, joyful and loving, it's because there is less of me and more of him. It is my prayer though, that everyday I would let him peel away those ugly layers and that I would be growing, changing, yielding to the great potter,being washed...being made new.

all dressed up

bathtime

There are some things I do everyday,little things that seem insignificant and then one day it hits me that they are little gems tucked into my day that I treasure more than I could say. Almost everyday at just about seven in my house, I have three little critters sloshing around our tub laughing and splashing. I scoop them up all clean and wet and lift them to the mirror. I squeeze their faces next to mine because they always want to see the hooded princess or little bear towel on their head. It's some of these humble little moments in the routine of my days that I know I'll miss someday. They shed their towels and dash to the fireplace to warm their bums. It's one of my favorite parts of the day.



Tonight we've got the cutest little lamb you ever saw, one ballerina and one superhero that are gearing up for tomorrow. Happy trick or treating!

prayers for Mimi

I seem to keep quoting my son for the sincerity, simplicity, and profundity of his prayers but sometimes Josh and I look at each other holding back laughter. I think I might as well just start a book with his precious prayers. We have this beloved Mimi who recently left the country on a trip to share her faith with women at a university in Czech Republic. Juden's prayer that evening was this,"Dear Jesus, please make Mimi be safe on her trip,when she rides in the airplane, help her not to fall off, but if she does fall off please let her parachute shoot up cause I love Mimi and I want her to come here so that I can go sleep over Mimi's house." Now if I could just find the drawing he did of Mimi in the plane, that was pretty cute too.

Autumn love

Drinking in the sights, the gentle chaos, the symmetry,

of trees aflame with color...

the oil paint limbs,the way the light makes them shine,

the beauty of death becoming life...

and the smell of wet leaves and fire.

homeschooling

Since September I've been home-schooling Juden for Kindergarten. I thought it would feel like a natural transition since we already have a home where learning and living and playing coincide. Some days have gone like my overly idealistic self imagined. We snuggle in the morning sun immersed in our reading while the girls have tea parties nearby. Other days I wonder what I got myself into and I feel like a total failure. On these days Juden has his mind made up not to do anything school related, the girls make concentration impossible and I'm trying to trudge through to make sure everything on my curriculum list is checked off. Some days Juden and I are frustrated and I end my day with little to show for it.
I'm using Sonlight which is very literature based, which I like. Every child's temperament is different and Juden was struggling with the extreme structure suddenly placed on his days at home. I realized that perhaps I was a tad over-zealous and that I really don't want to fight with my son or squelch his love for learning. A few days ago I was so discouraged I considered throwing the towel in and called my mother-to-almost-six, home schooling guru, best friend. I don't know what I would do without my girlfriends. She listened patiently to all of my recent struggles. She listened to my home-schooling frustrations. She talked about the importance of nurturing his curiosity and love for learning. She recommended books and gave amazing advice and helpful tips. Most of all she spoke confidence in me that I had lost in myself. She affirmed me as mom and a teacher.It is amazing the power of a little encouragement to a broken spirit. What did I do to deserve such precious women in my life? All of this to say, it has not always been an easy transition but we are learning how to find a good rhythm of learning and play and structure and freedom. I feel a sense of renewal that I know is from God and how He has used my friends to uphold me.



Some of the highlights are that I get to be with all my children all day long.
I get to watch their wonder over little miracles like this...
we feed our very hungry "calapidder" as Ella calls it, lots of milkweed,
we watch it form a pale green and gold beaded chrysalis,
we watch it bulge and become translucent with tiny wings forming underneath,
we watch it break free and unfurl it's wings for the very first time,
and just like that... a butterfly is born.

I get to teach and nurture and drink in each day the wonder and curiosity and creativity that comes with being five, and thirty-one.

response to "Something I know is true"

"There is so much work to be done, especially in a family of six. It almost never stops. When one load of laundry is taken off the line, another is ready to go on. When one meal is cleaned up, it’s almost time to begin the next. Sometimes we work very hard for leisure, also (as any mama knows who has gone camping).

A woman can work very hard. She can organize and make lists, and she can tidy and straighten and wash and reorganize and dunk her baby in a bath and dress him and put him to bed.

But not all of a woman is made to work. The soul of a woman contains so much more- there is a girl-child inside, ready to play! Sometimes the girl-child is upset, because there has been no time to play, no time to laze around and read on a window seat on a rainy day.

But there is work to do. So, there must be a way to bring the two together! Surely God did not make us to forget how to be children (Jesus suggested the very opposite when He said, “Unless you become like children, you will not see the Kingdom of God”) and surely He is not a great taskmaster, always hovering and waiting for us to account for ourselves."
~Rae the Journey Mama

"I used to struggle with this too. After I had cancer something changed and now I find all those chores ‘fun’–they seem like play to me. Because there is always ‘work’ to do, I have fun all day long!! I imagine people think I am a boring not so creative person, but I love the ordinary day and find it delights me.

But I wasn’t always like that– and I didn’t evolve into this way of thinking/being. I “learned’ it. I oft think of what the Apostle Paul declared “I have learned to be content, in whatsoever state I am in”.

A child’s work is play. And an adult’s work is his ‘play’ so to speak. And play he will, unless he resents the task at hand. Even a tinge of resentment will cause it to be a drudge.

We adults have to work at kicking out even the tiniest thought that hints of wishing we could be doing other than the work at hand. While it may be true that we’d rather be doing something else, we must deny any feeling of discontent the freedom to exercise itself in our heart.

“Search me Oh God, and know my heart”. Why? Because my heart–the heart of man– is deceitful above all else, and desperately wicked. Please God, shine a light into its recesses and reveal to me my true state....
That which I’d dreaded or felt to be a chore became a privilege, a blessing in itself.
I was changed by transforming my mind. When I lay there, in that hospital bed with cancer, I thought about all my pettiness, my murmurings, and realized I was akin to those wanderers in the wilderness and I wept sorely and told God I was so sorry..and I vowed to myself that if God did indeed spare me I would never ever again despise the daily grind."
~Dinah Soar

"However, I feel that for me it is less about discontentment, and more about learning that being a good girl is not about having every thing on my “to do list” done, or having every part of my schedule fit perfectly together.

Being who God made me to be is actually to BE a child, and it is more this state of being that I am pursuing, than running away for a day (although that is fun too).

I do think we have to deny ourselves, of course. But where we are actually longing for good things, we have to work really hard to fight against the idea that we are not worth finding playtime.
I’ve always identified with Martha in the story of Mary and Martha. Now I am beginning to understand that what Jesus was telling Martha is that we are not only workers, in our souls. That there is so much more, and that he sees it and that we can work together to make room for it."
~Rae


I wanted to share a few parts of a discussion happening over at her blog. I read it on a day when I felt exactly like she described so beautifully. I thought perhaps I was not the only one who occasionally feels pulled between the worker and the girl-child. Feeling a little out of balance with the high demands of running a house and family and wanting to have a few minutes to listen to the child in my soul that is always being brushed aside. The other day I was reading the story of Exodus 17 to Juden. It is hard not to be astounded at God's people and their complaining spirit. I find myself once again saying, what the heck is wrong with these people? God sends them bread from heaven every day, water springs forth from a rock. He redeems them from their slavery and cares for their needs like a gentle father and still their faith burns low and they are quick to murmur complaints. No sooner do I think these thoughts that I realize that I am those people murmuring in the wilderness.
My blessings abound and I see them everyday, but it does not negate the fact that I am broken and weak and that life is much messier than all the pretty pictures. If only I could learn to receive the love my Father has for me. Why is that so hard? It's something I don't deserve and could never earn and so it's hard to understand.
I know I mentioned before some of Juden's prayers but their really is something so pure and unpretentious about the longings of a child's heart. He, like lots of other kids has certain things he includes in his prayers almost every time. Before bed we kneel as a family and Juden always starts by saying,"Jesus we love you and we know you love us."
Since I have gone through this valley of feeling so wholly un-loveable, this prayer has spoken to my heart. I think Satan enjoys filling us with doubt and constantly flaunting all of our ugliness before us, convincing us that a holy God could never love us just as we are. I'm not in the mood to give Satan any pleasure today, not while the girl-child in me wants to revel in the embrace of my Father. May we live every day in light of His love that will not let us go.

"O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee,
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee,
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be."

hello Fall

Fall still feels very fresh as the temperatures didn't drop until the arrival of October and up until that point we were still swimming and going to the fountains. I'm ready for fires,camping, sweaters and the chill in the air. We've had an abundance of rain which I'm hoping will make for and even more vibrant Autumn. You can just begin to catch glimpses of color especially up in the mountains. It is so good to get away some times, so up to the mountains we went and couldn't wait to wade in that icy river water. As Autumn unfolds I can't wait to drink in the colors with my loves.

so long summer