~circa 1980~

~from July 10th~
It's Sunday morning, just after 5:00am and I am sitting in the Philadelphia airport. I have just come from my grandmother's funeral. What a truly precious soul. That familiar, sad missing is creeping around my head. It's bittersweet, the beautiful celebration in honor of her life and the empty place where she has always been. I am reminded again that we are not made for endings.
The night before the funeral we sifted through a velvet-lined suitcase of her old photos, lovely vintage cards and birth announcements, her writings, letters and her testimony(which my brother later read at her funeral). She saved everything that meant something to her. I thought,"Ah, so this is were I get it from, this need to preserve." Such a gift are these written words. I looked at the lovely cursive over stationary. It's a bit of a dying art; this pen to paper, these written letters, replaced with a sea of cyberspace musings.

There is nothing special about this moment really. My little Harper is sleeping peacefully in a blanket-nest next to me. He is all goldeny-angelic in the light of the just-rising sun. I'm at the airport five hours early so suddenly I have this little open space of time. This gift of quiet to nurse and pray and just be. The sun is starting to glare off of the pavement and the wings of the slowly moving planes getting ready for take-off. There are people rushing all around me to every corner of the earth, but I'm alone in the quiet of my thoughts drifting here and there. People are rushing everywhere, limbs burdened with baggage, furrowed brows, eyes ahead steadily moving. Someones' schedule gets disrupted which leads to angry faces and angry words. Airports are good for watching people. I feel the way Harper looks; peaceful, solitary, drifting in and out of dreams. I blink away the circle rainbows that form on eyelashes facing the sun. I wonder if I can memorize this very ordinary moment; the feel of pen over paper, the glow of the rising sun, the sound of my soul waking to my first Love.
Just a little bit ago I watched my sister, who's moving to California, hurry through security. I was right behind her but got stopped and sent back to the gate to get clearance to fly with the babe. So just like that, I got her attention and blew her a kiss. By this evening I will be on one side of the country and she will be on the other... and so the journey goes.
My heart aches.
Yesterday I said goodbye to my Nanny. What a glorious life lived, what a legacy of faith, what a large hole left in our family by her absence. I sit, I reflect and God's love surrounds me.
Soon I'll be standing on a shore showing my love the ocean, dipping Harpers' new toes in foamy waves. There's a time to be born and a time to die, but above all there is Hope.

We say, then, to anyone who is under trial, give Him time to steep the soul in His eternal truth. Go into the open air, look up into the depths of the sky, or out upon the wideness of the sea, or on the strength of the hills that is His also; or, if bound in the body, go forth in the spirit; spirit is not bound. Give Him time and, as surely as dawn follows night, there will break upon the heart a sense of certainty that cannot be shaken. --Amy Carmichael


~today~
My parents-in-law were taking my family on vacation to the beach this same week so Harper and I were flying out to join them. It was a wonderful reprieve from normal life and the timing was a gift. I'll write more about that later. When thoughts are hurried, scattered and sad, the wide world comforts me. I find so much healing in the ocean... a literal picture of depth and breadth and width, and my Father's love is deeper still. It's strange sometimes the way God meets us right where we are especially when we're hurting. He brings delight right in the middle of pain. He drops his love gifts right in front of us, even in an airport in a day of 15 hours of travel.
As I walked around the airport with Harper in the front carrier and my backpack and diaper bag, my shoulders started to ache. Harper seemed to want to stretch so I found a booth in a airport restaurant and made him a little bed next to me and sat unencumbered to have lunch.
If you've ever lost someone you love you learn that it effects everyone differently. After I lost my dad, seeing girls with their dads made me miss mine. Now after just losing my grandmother, I felt like I had a Nanny shaped hole in my heart. Who could ever fill that role in my life? She's always been there, she had prayed for me every single day. Ninety years worth of wisdom and living, the only grand-mom I've ever known. I have a void of older women present in my life. I miss her.
So, I guess it made sense that when a grandmotherly little woman walked by my booth, something in my heart perked up. "I should ask her to sit with me," I thought as she passed, but I didn't. About 30 seconds later she came up behind me and said, "Feel free to say no, dear, but would you mind if I joined you?"
Yes, please:)
It seemed that for the few of us in the airport not immersed our iPhones, Kindles, or laptops, the first question upon meeting was always, "Where do you come from and where are you going?" I chatted easily with this silver- haired grandmother named Nell. She asked me if I was close to Nanny and what she was like. She listened with kind, knowing eyes. She told me all about her background, her kids and grandkids. I told her of my grandmothers prayers for me and that if I lived to be that kind of grandmother I'd be happy. She said, "I think you will, dear, I think you will."
It was just lunch with a stranger. But also something deeper...a connection, maybe it was motherhood, maybe it was loss, or maybe just finding a friend in a stranger over lunch in an airport. In the next several hours I would be approached by two more of the sweetest most grandmotherly women, both talking to me as if we'd always known each other. What an unexpected gift of comfort. It wasn't until I said goodbye to the third one that I paused and said, thank you.

happy 4th

blueberries

Another thing to love about summer is blueberry picking! Blueberries for Sal by Robert McClosky has long been one of the kids favorite books. It's a sweet story of a little girl who goes blueberry picking with her mom and runs into a mama bear and her cub. Naya excitedly grabbed it yesterday because she knew we were headed to the blueberry farm. We met lots of friends there before it got too hot and filled our buckets (and our mouths). If you're local here is the link. Pack a picnic and take your family. It's a lovely way to spend the morning but you'll want to go early before the heat.







A friend shared this Blueberry Buckle recipe and it met unanimous approval from the kiddlets. Yum, especially with some fresh whipped cream on top.

SIX

Time to do a little blog catching up. I am wondering with the fullness of these days if the blog will become mostly pictures for lack of time. Time to write will ebb and flow and that's just fine because it's summer and there is a whole lot of summer stuff to be done and four little people to do it with. Not to mention, stringing together coherent thoughts is trickier with lack of sleep and crazy hormones. If a few things get recorded, that's better than none and speaking of recording things,there is a certain little lady that turned six last week. You know, I always have to give a little tribute to my loves on their birthday.
To my little woman,
You are six and we are turning a new corner. This has been an amazing year. I have loved being home with my girls. I've loved being your teacher and watching you begin to sound out words and write. You loved watching my tummy grow and you act like a little mama to Harper. He knows your face and you comfort him well when he's sad. I'm proud of your nurturing spirit. You will be going to school this year and I'm going to miss you like crazy. You are a mama's girl. You don't want to leave my side and you are shy with people you don't know. But I know you will grow in so many ways. You love art, music and dancing. You are a creative soul. You are really afraid of storms, wind and clouds after we had some severe storms around here. We have memorized scripture, sung songs, roared back at thunder and studied the science of it, but still you're afraid, little one. We are trying to help navigate you through it but fear is hard and all of us struggle with it at times. The other day I was gardening in the rain and you came out to help me. You are getting braver everyday. Your current career aspiration is to be a ballet teacher. You love baking,reading, drawing rainbows, cities, bunnies and butterflies. Ella Bella, you are a delight in my days. My heart remembers days like this andthis and man, I wish it would just slow down.
May you stay your heart always on our God. May you always know your worth in his sight, my precious daughter. May you be bold and courageous in your faith. Know that wherever your journey takes you, my love will follow you. Happy six, baby.

letters

Dear Harper,
I want to tell you how your name came to be. As I write this you are about one and a half months old and rocking gently in your swing next to me. You are doing that thing where you are looking intently at my face with your little furrowed brow, your eyes methodically trying to close in rhythm with the swing but you are still half awake.

How can a love so deep grow so quickly?




In the nine months before you were born I prayed and bonded and tried to get a sense of who you would be. We thought about several names for you... Micah, Solomon, Everest.. Asher...Harper. We liked them all for different reasons but we had trouble fully committing to one and agreeing on one. I was leaning toward Solomon but daddy wasn't. As the weeks rolled by I told your daddy, "He could be here any minute. We need to decide."
Some of my friends and family gave me a shower for you and during a time of prayer, one of my friends prayed that God would whisper your name to us. In my heart I prayed the same thing. A few days later daddy and I decided to have a lunch date at the park. We tried to squeeze in a few dates before you arrived. We thought we would sit in the park and talk and pray and make the decision of what we would name you. And then a strange thing happened. Daddy saw something on the ground right between his feet.
And it was this.

We looked at each other and kind of laughed. Shortly after that we decided that your name would be Harper. Harper is an English name that simply means Harp player. I loved this name for a few reasons. One, I just like how it sounds, strong and beautiful. Two, because I love the story from Samuel about David the harp player. David, a man after God's own heart, a man who recognized that he was nothing apart from the God inside him. He was a young boy who tended sheep, a humble shepherd who made music on strings. A lowly boy, tanned by the sun, smelling of meadows and lambs, playing the songs of his heart before a King. He did what so many of us try to do, spill our souls in poems and songs and art, following after the master creator. In Samuel it talks about how Saul would call on David when his spirit was troubled. The sound of David's harp would refresh his spirit, "making him well, and the distressing spirit would leave him." It's with this imagery in mind that you were named. To me Harper sounds musical and poetic. Just as Jesus tells us to speak to one another in Psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, it is my prayer for you, sweet son, that your life would be a soothing sound in God's ears, a sweet aroma in the air around Him. Oh, that you would never know a day with out Him...that the days of your life would unfurl into your very own story, in the notes of your very own song, Harper Pax.

We agreed easily on your middle name, Pax, the Latin word for peace.
~Galatians 5:22-23~
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
We're looking to our God to help us nurture in you little ones, the fruits of the Spirit, just as we pray that those same fruits will be growing in our own hearts.

With that said, I have no idea what choices you will someday make, or how our brokenness will leave you messed up and wounded. Maybe someday you'll do something that will break my heart, maybe someday you'll scare me to death. We'll disagree and fail each other, and forgive and love a thousand times over. I'll feed you and clothe you and show you the ocean. I'll read you books and poems and then teach you to read by yourself. I'll rock you at night when you can't sleep and always come when you have bad dreams. I'll tell you the names of the trees and the birds and play you all my favorite records. I'll sing to you when you're having a bad day and pray over you at night. I'll watch you grow faster than my heart will be able to catch up with and probably take a million photos. Cause you know your mama's nostalgic like that and totally hopeless and there's this need to collect the moments, need to preserve. Maybe someday we'll fight about girls or motorcycles or curfews, but we'll figure it out together with Jesus' truth covering us. But know this my son, no matter what you do someday when you are grown or what you choose to believe, I will love you just the same for the gift of grace that you are to me. You were never really mine to begin with. I'm entrusted, not entitled, to the joy you bring me. I will always be a safe place for your heart, blanketed in the prayer and love in which we gave you your name.

In the mean time you are our peach-fuzzy, pudgy-legged, stinking adorable baby and you are known by many names in this house, including, Harpie-Pie, Pax,the Harpster, Paxie, the Pax man, sugar lump, little man... oh yes, it is amazing what escapes these lips when in baby voice and in the presence of such ridiculous cuteness.

Here's a song by daddy and I set to images of your first week.


We forever love you, little man.

"It is not everyday that the world arranges itself into a poem."
— Wallace Stevens


...so on the days it does, I stop to notice. These days have felt like that...perhaps more so because of coming out of a difficult patch. Our sweet babymoon bonding was definitely interrupted by the illness Josh got several days before Mother's day. He ended up being in the hospital for almost three days. He had something called Rhabdomylosis which is basically muscle deterioration brought on by working out too hard and not having enough carbs. They also thought that he was weak and fighting some kind of virus at the same time so he couldn't go near Harper. For the better part of two weeks my poor husband slept and fought a fever and tried to heal while I worried about him and tried to hold things together on my own with a brand new one. My hat is off all to all you single moms; you are amazing. I don't think I could do it. It turns out that in large families it really helps to have a functioning papa. The rhythm of our home was definitely off and exhaustion took on a whole new meaning. With that said, I am so thankful that Josh is healed and that we are adjusting to our new normal with our newest family member. The simple joy of these past few days rests in my palm like some precious pearls after the difficulties as of late.
~The sight of a mysterious little dark bird that seemed to enjoy the gentle brush of Ella's fingers,
~the morning light, sublime on his baby soft skin,
~picnics, fountains, whisper clouds, summer skin,
~late nights with garden lights and honeysuckle air, rocking a restless Harper to the soft sounds of this incredible music, drinking in the words
~ the sound of guitar strings ushering in quiet night time after the busy noise of the day
~ date night with my love looking back over twelve years of marriage and dreaming about road trips and music and who our little loves will become.








Happy anniversary love, you are my comfort and home.

sister love

This is one of my favorite pictures of my sisters. Last weekend we flew my sister from NJ down here for her birthday. I haven't lived near Heather since before I left for college but our hearts are closer than ever. She's a mom of five and just an authentic, compassionate, beautiful person. Friday we got to spend the day together doing the things we would probably do all the time if we lived closer. We went out to breakfast and shared our hearts over chai while Harper slept away. Then we shopped and got stuck in my favorite store when the sky went dark and a storm came rolling in. Blue Skies is full of pretty, and inspiring things. It makes me want to create things. We talked and admired while the rain streamed down the windows, and we didn't think about how much time would pass before we saw each other again or how different our kids would look.





The five of us Riley's are rarely all in the same place so it was such a gift to spend our last night out together. I loved watching Heather love on my three-week-old. We just might have to do this for every birthday.

*one month*

I was scurrying around sorting paper work and doing laundry when I looked down at this little face. I've figured out a couple of things since having Harper. He likes to snuggle and nurse and he does not like being put down. So he goes in the same little pouch that all my babies went in and loved, probably because it feels like being in the belly again. My hands are mostly free but it's a little harder accomplishing things with this little bundle. When I looked at his tiny face staring up at me I thought,"Hmm, I can keep going from picking up this pile of clutter to paying that bill but never quite finishing anything, or I can go stare at Harper." So the latter sounds like a lot more fun so we sit on the couch and I tell him a thousand things he doesn't understand but it doesn't matter because he looks up with those intent gray-blue newborn eyes. He knows my voice and he knows he's being loved. He curls his tiny body up into me and bobs his head on my neck looking for milk, giving me lots of open-mouth baby kisses. Memories of all my babies come rolling back. It is all so familiar; the wild little cries, the little bird legs, the trembling bottom lip, this helpless hungry creature born into love and built by the hands of an artist. It is humble and physical and human but also a masterpiece breathed by God. I wish I never needed sleep and that all of my prayers and love will follow him every day of his life. I hope that when he becomes a man they will cover him and carry him. I have had one month of knowing you, little Harper, and every moment is a gift.

Oh, and please do stop by for a chat and a cup of chai but just know if you are stepping over toys and moving laundry to find a seat, it's all Harper's fault. He's irresistible:)