baptizing Harper

Last Sunday was a special day around here. We baptized Harper and we had a big family party to celebrate. It was a deeply meaningful day for us. Josh and I have been so mindful lately of our need to surrender our children to God, to rest in his protection, providence and care for our children. Recently a family in our community lost their two year old son, Atticus, in a tragic accident. Though I didn't know them well, it shook me deeply. As our family prayed for theirs, my mind swirled with questions and sorrow. I was troubled and uncomfortable with some of my own thoughts. If faced with that level of grief, would I be able to cling to the truth of Christ? Would the world just become a cruel, twisted place I couldn't make sense of? I hope I never know that grief but apart from these questions that drifted in like unwanted company, I do know that the God of all truth and life would carry me through the darkness. I kept hearing testimony of the way this family trusted the Lord and their deep faith that this was indeed part of of their son's story and that he is very much alive in Christ. It moved me that even in his death God's glory and comfort was so evident.

This happened right before Easter. Every year at Easter I recall the year that my then two-year-old, Juden, fell sixteen feet from his window. You can read the whole story by clicking here. The short of it is, that after a night spent in the hospital to observe him, he emerged with out a scratch. Every year I think about how different my life could have been and I have these conversations with God that go something like this, "Thank you. He is yours. You write his story. I want to let go and give him back to you. Thank you for entrusting his precious life to me." It is interesting to me how God works things sometimes. Although I didn't plan it when we asked to baptize Harper, it fell on April 15th. Six days to the year since God protected Juden from a tragic accident and also the due date of our first child, whom Jesus took home before birth. He would have been ten. It was a deeply moving day to stand in our little old rickety urban church and witness a physical symbol of water over our baby's head, this Spirit, this cleansing. I have to take a second to tell you how I love my church. It is an ancient building with wonderful light and big arched wooden doors in the back that stay flung open, with the soul sounds of singing wafting out of them. It is full of children and people of all colors and I love that picture of how the Kingdom should be. I take in all these little things because Harper refuses to ever let me sit through a church service. He distracts with all manner of adorable antics until finally every week he goes in the carrier on my chest and I stand outside the back doors bouncing and rocking, bouncing and rocking while church drifts out and seeps into me like water to a weary traveler. Last week we were recognizing our baby as God's child and dedicating him to the Lord. It was beautiful, as Harper looked at our Pastor Jim, a little puzzled with water dripping down his head he turned back to watch the singing congregation. The pureness of that act felt like a cool breeze and my chest hurt with the grace of it. From before they are born we want to protect our kids from every evil and harm the world can throw at them. We do our best to do that, but we can't fully. What sweet relief that our Father who sees even a sparrow fall, loves our children immeasurably. The same God who held Juden six years ago and all of our children, was holding Atticus when he went home to Jesus.

Our hearts were so full on Sunday as we celebrated Harper with a yard full of kids and bubbles and strawberry shortcake. Sometimes the beauty, chaos and wonder of His gifts take my breath away.

some simple joys

Inspired by Christine over at Dreams of Simple Life... I decided to share a few joys in my day. Life is tragic and messy, heart breaking and achingly beautiful. It's good for my soul to pause and notice, to collect time and say thank you...over and over again.

A few uninterrupted moments, for words and remembering.

The scent of raindrops on honeysuckle...heaven.

My girl, always prepared for the rain.

After dinner walks and mourning dove sounds.


looking up and seeing this, unprompted...


What's bringing you joy in the midst of your storms?

FIVE

I can't let another day go by without finishing my thoughts to you, my littlest girl who just turned five! Just saying five, leaves me a little stunned. I'm so used to having itty-bitty, she-people around I can hardly believe how big and grown up you are becoming. This year has been one of transitions for us. Our Ella went to school all day. You miss her and so do I. For most of the day it's just you and me and your baby brother. This year you became a big sister and sometimes you think you are the mama. You LOVE our baby, sometimes too much. I have loved four. You are all about writing letters, painting, coloring, digging, watching seeds grow, soaking up every tiny wonder woven through our days. You hum all the time which I think you got from me. You'd rather dance and skip than walk. You make your bed and you really like sweeping, cleaning, cooking and helping. You love your friends and would spend every second with them if you could. You almost always insist on wearing dresses and still go a little crazy for shoes. Sometime after you turned four you started asking to have your ears pierced. I had not thought about it, but you asked for a few months until finally, I took you to Claire's in the mall and told you how it was done and that it would hurt a bit. At which point you climbed up into the chair and said, "I'm ready." You barely flinched and you looked like such a big girl. You're bold and uninhibited and oozing with energy and love. My birthday was right before yours and it happened to be a circumstantially bad day but you always bring bright spots. You carefully set up a whole tea party and waited on me complete with English accent. Sometimes I just want to memorize your precious little five year old face. One of my favorite things to do is fix your golden hair. On your birthday you wanted to go to the tea room and you got all dressed up and told me I had to stick out my pinky when I sipped my tea like Fancy Nancy. Dove sent you some new rose shoes that match mommy's and you loved that we had the same shoes on. They were the same ones my sister and I used to wear in high-school and college and they reminded me of walking around Philadelphia with her. A perfect gift for you and a lovely reminder for me. You are feisty and opinionated and don't mind sharing it with anyone who will listen.
Sometimes I shudder at the thought of raising girls and how I may fail you. I know though that God is making you who you are and holding you the whole journey long. You bring daddy and I so much joy and laughter. May this year hold all sorts of adventure, growth, joy and grace. Happy birthday, my little Naya Faith.

EIGHT

~from yesterday~





This morning we woke up early, just you and me and went up the mountain to watch the sunrise. The very top of the mountain was thick with fog, so we went as high as we could and watched the world wake up and the massive dark pink sphere rise slowly above a layer of clouds. I watched your small face, full of wonder. How is it that you are eight today? Steadily growing, taller, more curious and independent, faster than my heart can catch up with. I remember the day I met you, this new, screaming, little creature. I felt like such a child myself. It was an indescribable feeling, your tiny body curled on mine after almost 24 hours of labor. There was so much joy and awe.

With the knowledge of you came this strange new emotion of worry. I'm sure I'd had a few worries but they paled in comparison to mom-worry. While pregnant, I worried that I would lose you, then once you came, I'd worry if you didn't make enough noises while you slept, then when you learned to walk I'd worry that you would smash your head or swallow something. And on and on it goes; more independence, more challenges, and more worry. How far should I let you ride your bike? Should I let you go to the public restroom alone? Will you be kind, will you remember your manners, will you be a rebel, will you be bold and fearless? Will you see Jesus in me despite my failures? Will you always be so forgiving? When will you be too old to want to lean on me and listen to me read to you?

You've got a pretty good dose of your Papa in you so I'm thinking that worry for me won't be ending any time soon. Before I know it you'll be asking for keys and dreaming up adventures like your daddy, of hitch-hiking through Europe and motorcycling through Mexico. Lord, have mercy. But that's okay because I am learning and growing right along side of you, my little man. I'm learning to surrender this illusion of control. I have not and will not arrive in this area. But I can try everyday to let go a little. I am forever amazed that a holy, perfect Savior holds you and that he chose me to be your Mama. What an undeserved gift you are. I love that I get to guide you and hold your hand on this journey. Whatever you become someday, and whatever you choose to believe, I will always be a safe place for your heart. May every prayer I've ever whispered over your infant self, now little boy and prayers for the man you will become, follow you with blessings.

As we sat with faces to the sun this morning we talked about our favorite things from your seventh year, and I let you open your present, a camera. I told you how photography inspires me and helps me notice beauty through the lens, how pictures can tell a story and drag out good moments. I'm excited to see through your eyes, and can't wait to help you make your very own photo journal. I loved watching you so excited taking the first few pictures of the rising sun. It was a lovely way to start the day, snuggled close to you in the chilly morning air.
I always let you have the day off from school since I can't stand to be away from you on your special day. We went to breakfast, which included chocolate cake, with the family and mostly played outside since the day was full of blue skies and sun. You sketched in your new sketch book and made Harper laugh, chased the girls around and talked to the horses at the Nature Center. I think you took about a thousand pictures:) You look so big to me today as I watch you, with all sorts of memories floating around my head. As the day ended you smiled big and thanked me and said I was the best mom ever. I love that about you, how you gush with love and don't hold back. On your birthday we always discuss your future plans. So this year you informed me that when you grow up you want to be an art teacher by day and spy by night. "I think that is a fabulous idea," I said. I think you are the coolest kid ever. Let your light always burn bright, Juden Blaze. Happy birthday, precious son of my heart.

the boys

What a gift it is, this little hiatus from all our norms of work, school and early mornings. We went to one of our favorite places,the Nature Center. I love watching it change through the seasons but there is something so peaceful about it in the dead of winter when colors are dulled and trees are bare and delicate.
I love taking pictures. I love how it helps me see things and helps fleeting times linger. I love the light in Harper's eyes when he sees his brother. Already this precious brother relationship is forming. Juden is so gentle and adoring of our baby, eager to help him stand and watch every new thing he learns.
These days I am reflective of what has grown in our hearts during Advent and Christmas. I'm thankful for each day and the mercy I am shown. I'm overwhelmed by the beauty of these dear ones God gave me. And I'm eager for a brand new year full of hope, promise, growth and new goals. Some list making is on the horizon but for today I am being still in the joy that is bigger than the hard work of raising littles, grace in how quickly children forgive when I make mistakes. I'm resting in that thing which grows in the midst of sleepy looks exchanged in the middle of the night with a crying baby between us. I'm reveling in the simple beautiful prayer uttered by a child that has almost brought me to tears with obstinacy. I am drinking in this whole lovely exhausting season of nursing babe and sleepless nights, mud on clean floors, endless questions, constant laughter, not enough lap space and not enough hands and all the tender chaos of living and loving together.
I've always been a dreamer but when I stop to really look, this is more lovely than them all.

Christmas

‎"Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the unending smoke-colored snow, I could see the lights in the windows of all the other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steadily falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the close and holy darkness and then I slept."
~ Dylan Thomas~








It's hard to believe Christmas has come and gone already. There was no snow to wake to this year but it was a lovely day none the less. It was busier than I would have liked it to be. But that's okay, I am still learning to quiet some things, and embrace some others. I'm not so concerned about a picture-perfect holiday as I am about what is happening in our hearts. Are we learning to love deeper? Are we looking to the needs of others? We are learning, becoming, hopefully changing, always. Here are a few of the precious things I'd like to remember from this year:
*Creating some of the magic I remember for my children.
*Watching Harper discover lights and rejoicing in his life added to our family this year.
* Family movie nights by the fire.
*Christmas morning breakfast feasts.
* Watching our children act out the story of Jesus being born while a blanket-headed Ella tried to wrestle Harper into laying in her arms and saying, "You have to be still, you are the Son of God."
* Having a house filled with music and fresh green everywhere.
* Candle light reading and worship each night, drawing our thoughts always back to He who is coming again.
* Watching Juden marching through the trees in front of a line of siblings and cousins quoting A Child's Christmas in Wales.
* Hand made cards from my loves.
* Watching my brother snuggled with our children reading a poem my dad read to us.

Wherever you were this Christmas I hope it was filled with peace and light.

Molasses cookies

The other day I made my Nanny's recipe for molasses cookies with Naya. I can still remember my little grandmom making them with me when I was little. She made them every year at Christmas. Christmas has a way of making you miss loved ones. It brought me joy though to watch my tiny girl in her slippers and apron carefully rolling the sticky dough. They are delish.
My to-do list has a way of slipping away with Naya around. Something about her boundless energy and sweet brown eyes. She's a tough one to say no to. But we do read lots of books, color, bake and make Harper laugh which is lots more fun anyway.


Nanny's Molasses Cookies
3/4 cups of butter
1 cup of sugar
1/4 cup of a molasses
1 egg
2 teaspoon baking soda
2 cups of flour
1/2 teaspoon of cloves
1/2 teaspoon of ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon of salt
Melt butter over low heat, let cool, add sugar molasses and egg- beat well.
In a separate bowl sift together flour, soda, cloves, ginger, cinnamon and salt- add to the first mix. Mix well and chill the dough for about a 1/2 hour. Form into 1 inch balls and "walk through the snow" or roll them in granulated sugar. Bake on a cookie sheet at 375 degrees for about 8 minutes. I actually bake mine for about 6 minutes since I like them chewy. Enjoy.

what's blooming

reposted Dec 09




Everybody needs a garden. Okay maybe not a garden, but something that has the same effect of slowing your heart rate a little, helping you pause a minute and notice. A place an arms throw from messes that need cleaning and to-do lists, a place to sit for a few minutes with a cup of tea, to wander, to finger soft petals, to clear your head a little, to watch birds. I don't suppose I'm the only one that feels a sense of guilt at times for just sitting still for a few moments. Surely there is something I should be doing, and there always is.

"Is it an ocean of grace? Or an ocean of regrets.
Are we what we do? Or how we feel.
Or something different, something in between, something the size and shape of the perfect smooth rock that you close your hand around, just to feel its weight.

I am learning to be silent, to silence the seething within with patience and gentleness....
Gentleness is a great gift. I will ask for it and wield it in my house, with my family, spread it on my table like a cloth, throw it on the walls like a bucket of water, so it runs down and covers all of our mistakes...

And then I will wrap it around the small stone that I have in my hand, like a blanket."~ Rae


You can read it in its entirety here.I think about things in pictures and I love the way she strings together her thoughts. God is teaching me more about how closely connected love and gentleness are. How very humbling at times.



So back to my garden;I have noticed I find myself there just about every afternoon at about three having a cup of tea (my British daddy would smile). Up until last week I was amazed at the color that was hanging on despite the dropping temperatures and autumn winds... marigolds,zinnias and roses. Their deep pinks and oranges shining bright against a wash of tangled dying vines. And then last weekend, December brought our first snow of the year. A fresh white blanket stilled the landscape thrilling the children and taking with it the last of the blooms. But there are things quietly blooming in our hearts in this precious season of advent. I am seeing the tiny seeds planted slowly and over time starting to sprout. Sometimes in thoughtful questions, sometimes in simple little prayers that make make me catch my breath and bring tears.

Like the other night when Juden's prayer was this,

"Dear Jesus,
Thank you for all you give us. We love you. And someday we won't need the sun and the moon anymore because you will be all of our light. I'm sorry that you had to die on the cross for my sins. We know that you love us.
Amen"