letters

            

                        

Dear Juden~on your ninth birthday,
I am hoping these letters will help us remember your story, unfolding so fast before my eyes. Eight has been a wonderful year and one of so many changes. You love reading; pretty much anything but especially comics and the Lord of the Rings series with your dad.  It is one of my favorite sights, peeking in your room at night with you laying on his back, both of you engrossed in tales of Middle earth battles and brave heroes. The other day we took you to the movies and during a scary scene you asked to sit on my lap. Your long legs draped over mine and I could feel your heart beat through your small frame. I remembered sitting in a movie theater with you when you  were so tiny, curled in a ball on my chest sleeping through the whole thing. I felt so thankful that for now, you are not too big to sit on my lap and that you still feel a little safer in my arms.  It's been a big year for you though, lots of strides toward more independence and me learning to loosen my grip a bit. Since you are my first,  we have navigated so many firsts together and we will continue to. I'm praying for grace that we will learn together and that we'll trust in our Father to carry us through the hard and rocky places. I am thankful for the heart God is shaping in you. You are wild and stubborn, creative and full of ideas. You draw constantly, you are taking after your papa on the bike and you love to spend time in your room with your nose in books, building Lego's and always listening to music. You spend a lot of time outside and run home sweaty, scratched and bruised some days from playing so hard.  You are a good friend and a good brother. You have a unique bond with Harper that brings me so much joy. Maybe because you prayed so earnestly for a brother... I don't know but you just love him.  He climbs into your lap or onto your back every chance he gets. You are so gentle and patient with him.

I asked you where you would like to go on our date and again you chose the local English Tea room. It made me smile that you are definitely not the typical nine year old boy. You love the tradition of it and the food. You drank about four cups of tea and I listened to you talk about all sorts of things. I told you the story of the baby we had lost before we had you and how daddy and I said goodbye and how you would  get to meet another sibling someday.  You listened so compassionately that I could see you maturing right in front of me. We talked about heaven and you talked about all the things you wanted to do now that you are nine. You are such a thinker and I loved the chance to focus on you and to watch you laugh as you snuck more sugar in your tea. We walked around the Choo Choo, ate ice cream, watched the fish and you grabbed my hand and I tried to memorize your sweet, lanky, nine year old self.
There are days I feel how quickly it is going and how much I need to teach you to be ready for this wide broken world. Parenting gets harder, I can't lie. It was a different kind of care when you were tiny.  I could soothe you, and nurse you and rock you and you would be okay. Now there are so many questions and there are days when your strong will wears on me and you don't want to hear what I have to say and I feel like a failure. But I know God gave us to each other and that He will shepherd me as I try to guide you through growing. I will love you with my whole heart always, son of mine.  We will pray, and hug and forgive and pray some more. Even on the hardest days when you are restless or fitful, I slip into your room after you are asleep and slide books from under your arms and watch you peaceful, and whisper blessings and love over you. I am overwhelmed with the gift you are to me.
The other day I read a post by one of my favorite blog writers who just gave birth to her fifth child. She said this of her newborn son:
"We meet and it's passionate and needy and I feed my child, I have fed my children and I have kissed every inch of their faces, if only for a short while. These cycles are not like a life cycle, or the slow turning of the earth. It's more like the wheel of a bicycle spinning through a tree-lined neighborhood, the sun glinting off its spokes. We ride quickly and the wind on our faces is like the gentlest touch, it's full of the scent of flowers." 
~ Journey Mama

I loved how she put that and I remember well.
It took me back to the day I first became a mother, still so poignant and fresh in my mind. So many hours I labored, body shaking,  and afraid. I knew something was wrong when my midwife and nurses  would  not look me in the eyes. But your daddy was holding my hand the whole time, praying over me, speaking strength. Your head was stuck and there was panic and voices were urgent. When I felt totally wrung out and broken, I remember my only thought. "God please hold my son." In that moment I didn't care what happened to me.  I didn't care if they cut me open with a sword, I just desperately wanted to hear you cry. I wanted to hear life. I realized then that I would willingly die for you. 
Then after pain and panic came you... perfect and pink and wailing. They gave you to me and you calmed and looked right into my eyes. I had never known such immediate and overwhelming love. 
I remember those early cycles of sleeping and kisses and nursing and watching you in awe. It's strange now to see that quick retreat from little boyhood and to see you becoming my little man.

 I want to be a mom who will help you to be earnest, compassionate, curious,  and brave enough to always be honest.  I want you to value justice and peace, to open doors for ladies,  to always have your sisters' back, and to be who you are, unapologetically. I want you to not overlook the hurting and needy around you. Let Jesus break your heart with what breaks his. Find your identity in how God has shaped your heart not in anything that you do. Always look for the best in people and overlook the prickles, everyone has a story. Never be too busy to go outside, rain or shine, to notice, to watch stars. No matter how hard things get, open your eyes to the ways God is loving you. They are always many, even when you feel alone. Above all, let your heart blaze with love for Him who made you and gave you all things. I will not parent you perfectly, not even close but I will walk with you, learn with you, guide you and love you. 
My son, you are joy to my heart.
Love, 
Mom

hobbit party

                                     "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit."

                                                        -J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

Josh has been reading Juden The Lord of the Rings series and so as his ninth birthday neared he knew exactly what he wanted. The Shire! Can you blame him. It was pretty fun trying to make the world of Tolkien come alive. I kind of like hobbit life, a cozy hole in the ground filled with books and candles, pipes, music and feasting. 

A hobbit has to have hairy feet.

The littlest hobbit enjoying his second breakfast.

Hobbit sisters welcome friends.

Planning adventures through Middle earth.

They searched for rings in Shelob's Lair, played pin the ring on Bilbo,  colored some stained glass elves and dwarves, played Lego's and ran around outside with swords, and bows and arrows. 

                                                                          Gandalf arrives cake.

                                                 
                                                            

                                              A good way to remember turning nine I think.

  

nourish

   
    The whole month has almost slipped away with no words here, and for good reason I suppose. I am now home-schooling all of the kids and we are all adjusting to this new season of joint learning and a whole new rhythm to our days. My days are full and sometimes there is not enough of me to go around, feeding this one, teaching one to read, going over the times tables and on and on. I have to say that this is where God has led our family for the moment and I am loving it. I love the extra time to snuggle, read and watch them make connections. I'm sure I'll have days I want to hide in the closet but so far they've been excited about it and I am so grateful to begin my days listening to Ella read Jesus Calling while I cook breakfast and then we start school in our jammies. It's a month for new beginnings and I am liking this one.

 

                                                       

                                                    

Miracle shall follow miracle, and wonders shall never cease.

~ Florence Scovel Shinn~

 


There is so much to celebrate. We enjoyed the day with family and more family on their way, food and gifts given with so much love. At least for a little while, all was calm and bright. Hoping your Christmas and New Year is filled with moments of  peace and joy.

*still*

"To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance.To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never , never to forget."

~Arundhati Roy~

It's been a strange week after the events in Newtown last week... I had no words. Still don't really. Only silence, and prayers, and weeping felt appropriate. Horrific headlines are nothing new in this old sin-sick world sadly. But something about finding out  while I wrapped presents, while two of my babies were at school, my husband a teacher...it hit me hard. I wept for those precious lives taken that day. I watched Juden and Ella run through the yard home from school. I think their smiles were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I hugged their small frames, drank in their chatter and laughter, the normalness of it, shoes and backpacks thrown on the floor. My heart broke for so many parents whose evening would be a living nightmare, whose lives would never be the same.
This is the season of advent, of waiting, worshiping, pruning this ragged heart of mine, anticipating my manger-born King's return. But for now, we are faced with so much tragedy, madness, bloodshed, and resounding evil, in Newtown and around the globe every day. It is in the headlines and in my heart too. Creation groans. My rage against evil is heightened as is my longing and awe for  Jesus whose light shines brighter against the darkness.
"that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together as in the pains of childbirth until now.And not only the creation but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience." ~Romans 8:21-25

As I stood in church last Sunday I could barely get these words out,

"Come thou long expected Jesus, 
Born to set thy people free;
 from our fears and sins release us, 
let us find our rest in thee. 
Israel's strength and consolation, 
hope of all the earth thou art; 
dear desire of every nation, 
joy of every longing heart. 
Born thy people to deliver, 
born a child and yet a King, 
born to reign in us forever, 
now thy gracious kingdom bring. 
By thine own eternal spirit rule in all our hearts alone; 
by thine all sufficient merit, 
raise us to thy glorious throne." 

Our long expected Lord; he reigns, he redeems. His heart broke over death and evil.  He was no stranger to the ugly and profane. I think of how the God of all creation wrapped himself in human flesh and came to the womb of a young peasant girl. All because he would not leave us in our sin. He was willing to suffer every pain and rejection. There was nothing hallmark about his birth, no cozy glowing stable. Jesus came surrounding the massacre of all the male babies in the vicinity of Bethlehem.  His life ushered in with bloodshed and evil.  All I can think of is Joseph, this weary traveler, anxious that he could provide no safe, clean place for his young bride to give birth. Did they wonder what God was doing when door after door closed to them? And then Mary who without hesitation responded, "May it be done to me according to your word." She gave her body and her heart for the glory of God.  So trusting and so vulnerable, in pain giving birth to our Savior, on the ground in a stable on some starry night amongst the stench of animals. This is how the king of glory came to us, so humble and yet the heavens, triumphant, rejoiced and still we rejoice for the one who will make all things new.  

When my heart groans with the weight of things I can't even comprehend, I am reminded that even in the darkest places the light of Christ shines. People rise up to action, to compassion, to help. The light of kindness and love shatters through what threatens to drown us. 

Lately, I am craving those moments of calm,  and stillness that come like a breeze. The way her voice sounds singing Away in a Manger, the perfect blue sky, the way they look when they're asleep, the way the afternoon sun slants across the wall, the feel of soft cheeks on my neck. Soaking up the beauty,  mourning with those who mourn, and praying against the darkness. 

Drinking it all in and knowing that Jesus, 

He's coming again.