To the Christian Mommas on Christmas...

I'm working on a new site but I wanted to get this post out there so I'm using my old reliable site. No fancy pictures or art- just some thoughts. Thanks for stopping by!

I know Thanksgiving hasn't even come yet but I have some thoughts on Christmas to share. Really just one thought with many words.

Last year a few weeks before Christmas my family and I were out to eat. I was sitting at the table very pregnant with our toddler while the other two kids were going through the buffet line with Reuben and my mom. To the left of me a young mother and her son, probably 8 years old, were sitting silently. They were both visibly upset. Finally she said, "If you get in trouble at school again, you aren't getting any presents for Christmas. Santa won't come and I'm not getting you anything. You have to be good or you won't get anything!" The boy started crying and she told him to stop.

I was heartbroken for him. I hear this sort of thing a lot this time of year.

Can I share some thoughts on this? One mom to another?

The thought of making my kids "earn Christmas" makes my heart hurt. Christmas is when we celebrate God's FREE gift to the world. A Savior born to us in the town of David. The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. The gift of God FREELY lavished on us. We did nothing to earn Him. We do nothing to keep Him. He is the greatest gift we will ever receive and He is free. No strings attached. No behavior clauses to fulfill.

How does God feel that we celebrate the day He gave us the FREE gift of His Son by making it about earning love and earning stuff? We've turned Christmas into Santa's Behavior program with requirements not one of us can meet. "You better be good, Santa can see you!" And now instead of eager expectation our kids are filled with guilt and worry. They know that they can not be "good". They know that they fail. They know that sometimes it's just too hard to always do the right thing. And I wonder if they begin to doubt they are enough for God or are enough for us? If all they hear is that they aren't measuring up for us how will they ever believe that someone greater than us loves them just as they are?

And here is a great opportunity, moms, parents, teachers, childcare workers- humans. Acknowledge your child's failure and use it to point them to Christ.

If you're going to talk about right and wrong and behavior and earning gifts at Christmas, then talk to your child about sin and the struggle to do what we should do. Tell her God knew we couldn't do anything right on our own and that's why He gave us Christmas. That's why He gave us Christ and we didn't have to earn Him at all. Tell her Christmas is free even if she yells at her sister for the 9th time today and even if she didn't pass that spelling test and even if she slammed that door shut in anger. Christmas isn't about our imperfection, it's about God's perfect love. So no matter what, there will be a present under the tree. We will celebrate that God never gives up on us. We will rejoice because we will never have to earn His faithfulness.

I know it's hard sometimes not to use everything you've got to try to get our children to behave. But can I ask you to take Christmas out of the arsenal pile? It's not a threat or a punishment- it's a gift. It's free. And it's the best gift your child will ever receive so let her have it- no strings attached.

And watch how your child blossoms under this new found freedom. Watch how she grows under the blanket of love and hope instead of punishment and fear. Watch how she learns to talk to God and to you about the things she struggles with and how she genuinely wants to try to do better.

And if you still really want to withhold a holiday, take away President's Day. No one cares about that anyway. :)

10 Years!

I have been married today for 10 years. 10.Years.

That's a long time. That's a lot of life with one man by my side. 

I met Reuben 12 years ago when I was just a 20 year-old kid still figuring myself out. I knew I loved Jesus,  but I didn't know anything that I was really passionate about beyond that. I was still coming into my own. When I was trying to decide what I wanted to do and where I belonged, I met this man who had this way of telling me I belonged wherever he was. I fit into him like my favorite fall sweater and he filled in all the spaces I never knew were empty.  I grew up with that man. Am still growing up with him.

We were just kids! Kids I say!

Reuben has always made me laugh. Not just that polite little laugh when something is slightly humorous, but that belly laugh where your stomach hurts and tears fall from your eyes and you wonder what life was like before you laughed that way. He always says that if we can keep laughing with each other we'll always be okay. The thing is though, he also holds me when I cry. And after 10 years as husband and wife- I've cried a lot of tears. We've been through two of the hardest seasons of my life together: I lost my sister to lupus just 3 years into our marriage and just a few months ago I was drowning so deep in postpartum depression I wasn't sure I'd ever touch dry land again.  And God was constant. And Reuben was constant. He holds me when I cry which is just as important to me as making me laugh. 

That man, he sacrifices a lot for me, too. He gets up every week day and goes to a 9-5 that puts food on our table and a roof over our heads so I can live my dream of a simple life at home with our children homemaking, homeschooling, resting and writing. He's got dreams, too and a 9-5 isn't one of them but he gladly pursues his own dreams late hours into the night so I can have mine all day every day. He wears sacrifice like a cloak and isn't that what Jesus asked? That Reuben would love me the way Jesus loved His people? Laying down a life so that others can live? He's not perfect and sometimes that sacrifice comes with complaint but He's willing and if that doesn't say love I don't know what does. I've learned more about sacrifice and gratitude from marriage than from any other venue in life.

There have been hard times. There have been clench your fist and your teeth and bare it times. There have been, "We were too young", "We weren't ready", "We had no idea", "Is this really what we signed up for?" times. And there has been so much grace we had to learn how to breathe all over again. Breathe God's grace instead of anger. Breathe God's grace instead of blame, disappointment, shame, fear, doubt. You know what? We're still learning.  But when my husband extends grace instead of blame? I know that he's coming closer to understanding the grace God extends to him, too. When I can forgive instead of harbor anger? Well...if you know you're loved, you can love. And if you know you're forgiven, you can forgive. Thanks be to God He keeps reminding us we're loved and forgiven and filled with grace.

I'm not sure why Lincoln is so upset, but Reuben and I are having a great time!

And to me this day is only a little about going back and revisiting the memories from 10 years ago- the dress, the music, the look in his eyes when he said he would forever and forever. But it's a lot about where we are right now and where we are heading. It's about the lessons we've learned that have built a solid foundation under these 10 years. It's about the "I'm sorrys" and those belly laughs that came after we said "I do". I won't look back too long because there's this theme that's been echoing in my heart and it's "the best is yet to come".  My best body? (After 4 kids probably not.) Our best years? Absolutely. Because even though my hair has changed, and my stomach has changed, and our free time looks different and our finances are different, I will take all those changes because they mean we have been doing this marriage thing together for 10 whole years and we have moved forward in really big ways. Because the way we disagree is also different and our expectations of each other and the house and date night and our day to day are different, too. Our picture of true love has changed and our understanding of what it takes to make marriage work has been altered...by marriage. :)  

And I am still so very much in love with the man who shows me every day that where I belong is still wherever he is.

The best is yet to come.

I love you, Reuben. Happy Anniversary.

The Lost Art of Pondering

"So they (the shepherds) hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart." Luke 2:16-19

Mary treasured and pondered.

Something has been nagging at me for a while. Each time I log into social media, or read some blog posts, or even overhear a public conversation that should be private, I start to wonder and worry that we've lost the art of pondering.

According to Merriam-Webster.com, Ponder is a verb (an action!) and means: 

1:  to weigh in the mind :  appraise <pondered their chances of success>

2

:  to think about :  reflect on <pondered the events of the day>

intransitive verb

3:  to think or consider especially quietly, soberly, and deeply 

In these days, we feel so much freedom to share with

EVERYONE

EVERY THOUGHT we have,

EXACTLY when we have it. 

"I feel like Chinese tonight!"

"Ugh- I'm so sick of this weather!"

"My kids are driving me nuts!"

I understand these posts. I've posted these posts. But I've been thinking lately, should every thought be shared? Is everything going on in your life really for all the public to know? Have we lost the ability to think through our emotions, process them constructively and then wait and see what venues may arise for us to share our knowledge? Is getting immediate feedback on a poorly thought out, knee-jerk post more gratifying than a delayed response to a well thought out idea you choose to share with a carefully selected audience?

True, many people recently have met serious consequences due to their lack of discretion in what they share publicly. I just read this article about a young woman who cost her family a sizable settlement for sharing her thoughts about a situation publicly. Others have lost their jobs or relationships for similar mishaps, or honestly, for just saying inappropriate things publicly.

I don't have a smart phone. When I take a picture I use my good ole' digital camera, plug 'er into the desktop and upload photos into iphoto. If I want to share a picture I have to go through this lengthy process which ultimately saves me, I'm sure, from posting a thousand pictures a day. I don't have immediate access to everyone's tweets and twitters :) or their Instagram accounts or FB posts. If I felt the need to share every thought I had, it would be a lot harder than for some. I'm okay with that. And you know what? When my children get older, I don't want them to have smart phones or whatever else will be available, either.

I don't want my kids growing up thinking they are more important than they are. Actually every thought they have, every meal they eat, every outfit they wear and every vacation they go on is not everyone's business and not everyone actually cares. I want to raise them to invest deeply and meaningfully in a few core relationships, not interact in shallow ways with the masses. I want them to ponder how their words may make people feel before they throw them out for all to see. I want them to ponder what is worthy of their time- uploading selfies and pictures of their meals, venting about the interaction with a person who upset them- or learning to lean into God for all their self worth and validation? I want them to think about their world, their lives, what role they play in it all and let the things they hear in the quiet guide the words they say and the things they do in the light. I want them to know how to sit and wait, how to pray, how to write down their thoughts and ideas, how to go to God first when something overwhelms or confuses them, and how to honor God with this process. I want these things for myself, too. 

In the opening verses of Psalm 73, the Psalmist describes a situation that was confusing and oppressive to him. Then, in verses 16-17 he describes how he found clarity: 

"When I tried to understand all this, it was oppressive to me til I entered the sanctuary of God; then I understood their final destiny."

Til I entered the sanctuary of God...

The psalmist knew how to ponder, how to think and pray and let God speak. He knew how to bring his concerns and fears to God and let God give him understanding. He didn't need to hear from anyone else- just God. I want this same knowledge and pursuit in my own life. I want to look forward more to getting into God's presence than logging into Facebook. I want to get in the habit of first bringing my thoughts or concerns to God, learning to wait on Him, and then asking Him if I need to follow up with someone else on what I learned in that process. I also don't want to be so consumed with sharing the little, less meaningful things each day that it takes time away from the process of pondering. I could spend 20 less minutes on social media each day giving me more time to ponder and be in God's presence.  

When we take time to think and truly reflect on the life that God has given us to live, I imagine we'll see blessing and grace and love like never before. I imagine this will enable us to live with purpose and meaning that far outweighs any instant feedback we get on a post we considered for a second before we typed it up and let it fly. I imagine God will guide and direct us as we ponder, and wait, and lean and pray. This is a pursuit worthy of my time. And yours. 

With love,

Latrice

A Life Well Lived

After getting home from a morning playdate, I tucked the kids into bed for their afternoon naps and headed to our computer. I wanted to watch some home videos of when Bubby was Chipmunk’s age because I was having a hard time remembering my now 3 year old being that little. I scrolled through the short videos, this one of Peanut’s 3rd birthday, this one of the trip to the pumpkin patch when Chipmunk was just born. Suddenly, without warning, tears filled my eyes. 

Oftentimes, when I think about mothering and all the changes being a mom has brought to my life, I tend to focus on what is hard. Being a stay at home mom, feeling isolated, missing the workforce (not so much any more but initially), feeling unsuccessful at parenting, living in a constantly messy house, going to bed often wondering if I am doing a good job, straining to remember when the last date night was, feeling some days like I yell, beg and plead more than whisper, sing and pray. Some days fleeing to Target just for a moment’s peace and jeeze, the list could go on.

But you know what? As I watched those videos, none of that was evident (except the messy house because you can’t miss that). But I couldn’t see any of those other things or feel any of those emotions in those videos. All I could see was a life well lived. 

A Life. Well Lived. 

I saw these tiny people doing adorable things: clapping for the first time, taking their first steps, splashing in the bath tub, opening birthday presents, meeting a new sibling for the first time, playing hide and seek standing out in the open and giggling, digging in the sand, splashing in the baby pool. And all I could think was, what a way to live a life. What a way to make a life:

• Pressing in each day and taking the time to fully realize motherhood. Embracing my new curves and the deep belly laughs only my kids can bring out of me. 
• Feeling my heart swell when I witness these little people do something that brings me joy. 
• Hugging and kissing and teaching and training. 
• Fighting to keep my eyes open on date night and cherishing those moments when Reuben and I get to be alone. Remembering again and again that only he can make me laugh like that. 
• Pouring sprinkles on ice cream and reading that book they love for the millionth time.
• Singing Jesus Loves Me till she falls asleep and tearing the house apart looking for that dang train he can’t sleep without.
• Pillow fights. Leaf pile jumps. Play dates. Pedaling bikes. Memorizing scripture. Bedtime prayers. Late night cries. Early morning pleas. Dress up tea parties. Pirate battles. Tickle tag. Paw Patrol. Dieting and exercising. Again. And again. Cake and candy. Themed birthdays. Day trips and pumpkin carvings. Trimming the tree. More “I love you’s” than I can count. 

What a way to live a life. 

I’m sure in the moments those videos were shot, if you’d asked me, I’d have had a list a mile long of all the things I would have changed to make those days better. But now I don’t even know what that list would contain. All I know is that when I watch those videos, I see the people I love most doing what we love best: living life together. 

What a way to live a life. 

I’m grateful, God. So grateful. 

Through the fears...

She was excited to get to bed tonight. She and her brother had been sharing a room for a few months, but tonight was the first night she had her room back to herself with her brother next door in his new quarters. She oohed and ahhed over his new room and made some requests for hers. "Can I have my chair back please?" "May I have a pretend cake to bake in my princess oven?" Nervous of how the younger one would do on his own, we reminded each of them several times of the new change that would take place. They laughed and nodded and seemed okay with the switch.

We followed bedtime routine normally, read books, our Bible, sang songs and held hands in a circle and prayed. Then, as I began to usher Peanut to her now brother-less room, she burst into wild and sudden tears.

"What's wrong?" I questioned. She climbed her small, almost four-year old frame onto my lap as I sat on her bed. I held her a long while and finally she looked in the direction of where her brother's crib used to sit and whispered, "I don't like sleeping alone."

All the excitement and courage she had displayed only moments ago melted away into frailness and vulnerability. She was lonely. She was afraid.

My heart sank. Deep. In that moment I confronted my own frailties and fears. My own loneliness. I still sleep better with a light on. Still can't quite relax until my hubby's warm body is snuggled against me when I sleep. My own fears.  Still can choke some days on the anxiety that rises so easily in me. Still feel so afraid so unexpectedly. But if I could just keep these things from rising in her. If I could just love her enough and train her enough so that she never felt afraid, never felt worried, never felt alone...

Then all the books and articles on children's sleep habits I'd read raced through my mind. "Don't stay with your child until she falls asleep...don't let children sleep in your bed...bad habits...no going back...teach them to cope..."  But this was not a moment to train her to cope. This was not a moment to abandon her to research best practices or push her off the diving board and hope she swam. This was a moment to demonstrate that as long as Momma is here I will help her fight her fears- on my knees, yes always- every day before God asking and petitioning; but sometimes, too, squished next to her and 15 stuffed animals in her twin sized bed, snuggled up close, singing the fears away. And I felt...grace.

Maybe sometimes we aren't supposed to fix the problem. Maybe sometimes we aren't supposed to take every teachable moment and try to instill some deep value that will create growth. Just maybe sometimes we can meet someone in our frail imperfection, tell them we understand, hold their hand, and cry right along with them.

Or maybe sing a song till the fears are gone.

And the harsh reality of this world, especially as it relates to the ones we hold most dear, is that our love could never be enough. I will never be able to love her enough to protect her from all the loneliness and fears she will face, but thanks be to God that His love is enough to hold us both when she does face them. His love gives me songs to sing in the dark and lonely places. I can hold her tight because He holds us both tighter. Thanks be to God.

And so we end the night with me holding on tight, whisper singing "Jesus Loves Me" and "You are my sunshine". And she smiles. Through the fears.

"Casting all your cares upon Him, for He cares for you..." 1 Peter 5:7

I'm Taking Christmas Back!

We received a toy catalog in the mail last week filled to the brim with all the things my children need this Christmas. I keep getting emails from certain stores with alluring pictures of shiny girls with new dolls and rough and tumble boys with bikes and trains and video games...and of course, I perused the catalog and viewed the emails. What good mother wouldn't? Of course if there are amazing toys out there that my children must have I must begin executing a plan now to ensure they have it all. Layaway? Credit cards? Overspending? Doesn't matter how we do it! Our children MUST have an epic Christmas and toys and gifts will make it so.

But then, as I was driving yesterday contemplating why Santa is such a big deal (that's another controversy for another post), I realized this: Christmas is already epic. The God of the universe sent Himself in human form to the earth so that He could have a relationship with the people He created and ultimately ensure we could have a relationship with Him forever. It is...mind boggling, insane, crazy and yes, EPIC. So what on earth do these toy catalogs have to do with that? Why all the commercialism and stress and abundance of so much crap we don't need? (Wow, thanks for the pen that is also a paper weight and alarm clock! It's what I've always wanted!) I suddenly, in this moment of clarity, saw a great need for simplicity.

I called my husband who I had just recently gone over a Christmas budget with and said, "I know how we can and why we should reduce our Christmas budget by 80%." (He was very excited by the way I began this conversation!) I went on to explain the idea of a traditional, home made Christmas and all the reasons I wanted out of the Christmas Crazies. I suggested we make gifts for our children using simple and affordable materials, make our own Christmas decor and focus this season on family and faith instead of gifts and spending. In short, I asked his permission to simply bow out of all the crazy spending, plotting, scheming and stress that comes with what should be the most stressless and thankful holiday we celebrate. He loved the idea! So when I arrived home, I began some online research on a homemade Christmas only to realize I didn't need any help. I know my children and the things they like. Besides, I wasn't trying to recreate some one else's homemade Christmas, I wanted to create ours!

We decided on some truly unique, truly fabulous gifts for our children that are low cost and high appeal and partially or completely homemade! I won't buy one new ornament or decoration this year. Instead, Peanut, Bubby and I are going to make everything we decide we'd like out of around the house supplies! We're going to read a lot of books about Christmas and the reason we celebrate, have a simple birthday party for Jesus, and spend time together as a family. We'll eat food we love, make snowballs (please? A white Christmas pretty please?), drink hot chocolate and maybe even sing some carols.  Our budget is still going to be in tact on December 26th and maybe my children won't feel like Christmas is over after opening their gifts. Because isn't the "spirit" of Christmas about more than running to the tree and opening presents? As exciting as that is, it's a momentary fix that quickly fades. Do you even remember what you got for Christmas last year or what you got your children? My greatest Christmas memories from childhood mostly don't include gifts (except- I do remember the year I got Michael Jackson's History album! I heart him!). What they do include is my Grandma's lap and her sweet potato pie and how she always smelled of sweet perfume. They include Meah and I finding our Christmas shoeboxes (another post on a Christmas tradition I will share with you later!) and the delicious cookies Grandma made rolled in powdered sugar. They include snowball fights with mom and dad and spending the whole day with the family with no other agenda. I'm taking Christmas back for my family this year. I'm bowing out of the stress and the spending and the worry if it is enough and the all the craziness.

I have never been more excited about Christmas.

Now, is it too early for Christmas music?

Our "We"

Things are still pretty slow moving around here just 3 weeks into welcoming home Little Baby Diva (LBD). *Appropriately named as she won't sleep at night unless being held. But she's cute, huh?

I just got around to putting away laundry I washed a week and a half ago. I finally vacuumed and dusted the living room. And my lounge pants are still my favorite article of clothing. I still have had no desire to go out on a family outing save to church and Target. And we are eating such simple, borderline junk food meals (except that they are homemade so that's better right?), that I am afraid my kids have forgotten what fresh veggies taste like. Such is the life of a mom with a newborn. We are mostly in hermit/survival mode. Except that, a couple weeks ago, when LBD was just less than a week old, we got an invitation to a birthday party for this past Friday that I RSPVed to right away. Even though I was tired, even though we had a newborn, even though I knew there was a high likelihood that the day of the party would come and I would be almost too exhausted to find something decent to wear and to get the kids dressed, I knew we were going. Because the invite was from a family in our community of friends that is more like family than friends to us.


We go to a church that we love. We've attended there for years, were engaged there (literally there because that's where Reuben proposed!), married there, and have raised our kids there as well. We adore it. But it is large. And growing. Each weekend we see different people and sometimes never our close friends who attend different service times. We are so thankful for our church, but also for what I feel is our "mini-church", which consists of a few families we have grown so close with, they are our family.

Friday night, we joined most of these families to celebrate the birthday of one of the boys in our group. I had been looking forward to it for some time and when we arrived I remember feeling joy and relief to be with people I loved so much. We ate great food and had great conversation. At one point, one of the two year-old boys in our group felt it important to demonstrate how he could spin around in a circle, (after his older brother demonstrated it first), and I felt strangely emotional when all of the adults in the room stopped what they were doing to watch this demonstration and then cheer wildly as if it was the most amazing thing we had ever seen. A smile covered the little guy's entire face and the adults were all smiling, too.

Why does that matter? Why feel emotional about that? (Yes, the post-pregnancy hormones could have played a role.) But truthfully, I felt overwhelmed to be part of a community of friends who will celebrate our children and lift them up. I know that they will walk with us and celebrate with us through every milestone my kids hit, and pray with us through every setback. I know I can trust them with my children's hearts and not be disappointed with how they treat them. That's the kind of community we've built together.

When Peanut had to meet with a specialist to determine the likelihood of her having the same disease that ended my sister's life, these are the people I called instantly to ask for prayer and to share my worries. These are ones who called on the day of the test to offer kind encouragement, who sent encouraging texts and left voicemails saying they were praying and who anxiously awaited the results and then rejoiced with us when we received good news. And these would have been the same people who would have carried us and prayed with us if we had received bad. These are the ones who have prayed with us in our home for our children or any other difficulty we've faced. The ones who bring meals when we need them or kind words or open arms.  They are family. Our kids have known each other for their entire lives and I foresee lifelong friendships. We share the same values and interests, but also bring our own cultures and life experiences to the group. We can laugh and joke but also be serious and truthful.

We're family and I love them.

And it didn't happen overnight. We went through that awkward get to know you stage, and then the, "I want to be friends, but how do we do that stage?", followed by the "Are we at the point where we can call just to say hi?" stage and then a number of building stages after that, landing us finally at the, "I'm so glad we are doing life together" stage. Wish I had a group picture to post but we're all usually running around at different times or someone is never happy with their hair (usually me). But, you know who you are. I love you.

And if you don't have a "we" yet. Please keep seeking. We all need a "we". Go through the awkward stages. Invite people over. Join a connect group at your church or find a place to get involved. Find your "we". Life is just sweeter with a "We".

Peanut in the center with a couple of her "We". 

To you, whom we wait for

It was this long kind of weekend and each day I thought, maybe today is the day we will meet you? But the sun rose and set and you stayed safe tucked inside, wiggling and kicking and lodging that foot just inside my ribcage just the way your sister used to. I imagined you, your sweet face and maybe pudgy cheeks and wondered what color you'd have and how long those kicky legs are. Your sister rubs my belly and says she knows you're a sister even though we're not sure. Your brother gets long running starts and bashes into you and maybe already you're learning he's a little rougher and he's learning how to be gentle with you? Oh, how he'll love you.

I want you to know you're coming home to loving arms and legs and hugs and kisses and songs at bedtime. You're coming home to dance parties and family walks in the fall and spring and too many Christmas decorations (like there is such a thing) and so so much love. We're not perfect, this family of yours, and somedays we're confused and I can't find your brother's shoes and your sister doesn't want to do anything at all and I feel tired, but there is so so much love.

Daddy can't wait to meet you. He rubs my tummy and says your name in prayer and asks God what he asked for the two before you. He rubs my back when the weight of you pulls down and asks what else he can do to help me get ready for you.  He washes your clothes and sets up the bassinet, readies the car seat and reminds me to bring that pillow thing I really liked that last time. I smile at his excitement. Oh, how he loves you.

And I? Well, I feel like I've known you this whole time. Since the moment the ultrasound said, yes, you were there and when I felt you and now always feel you. And I love you more than I will ever be able to show you. I can't wait to see you and hold you and I'm sorry for the times I don't want to let you go.

But the truth is, we belong together. All of us.

And there is something else you should know. You are one of ours. That means we will fight for you and we will bat for you and we will lay our lives down for you. You never need ask. We will be here always, whether physically or just inside your heart and head. Your mommy and daddy guiding the way. Your brother and sister protecting and watching over you. We will share secrets and inside jokes, dreams and disappointments. We will hold your hand and protect your heart. We will pray for you and with you and ask God for wild things for you. We will laugh with you and build you up. We will forgive you and ask your forgiveness. We will always give you another chance.

You are one of ours and you belong right here. 

We are waiting for you. Our arms and eyes and hearts and lives are waiting for you. One of ours, precious one. We'll be right here.

See you soon.

Love, Mom

Easy Memory Preservation

I've never been much of a scrap-booker. Still, when Peanut was born I was determined to document her life in pictures with scrap books that could rival Martha's any day. I printed photos, bought books and decals, ribbons and other embellishments. And these precious items sit in the closet of our school room collecting dust.

I'm not super creative. Can't create impressive layouts and imaginary designs. Don't really have the time (or the money) to spend on scrap-booking classes and the latest trends. However, I desperately want to capture our life in photos that are on display for us to see frequently, not tucked away in my digital camera or in neat little inaccessible albums in our iphoto app. I recently saw an idea on Pinterest that I knew I could do and with a little tweaking, it has become a way to document our lives in photos on display presently, and can then transfer quickly to albums as well!

It's a picture timeline one middle school teacher began with her students to document their school year by month in photos! I LOVED the idea and knew I wanted to try it. I began our display on our school room wall. Here's how it turned out so far!

(June is missing because I apparently didn't order those pictures, so I need to order those. See? I left a space!)

Each page is a 12 by 12 page of colored card stock. I went through our gobs of pictures on iphoto and printed the ones that captured super special memories we'd love to be reminded of throughout the year. I added simple captions in sharpie to give a little information about what was going on in each photo.

I also purchased a simple scrapbook that will hold pages this size, so, at the end of the year, we will take these pages down and slip the pages into the scrapbook (which has 12 pages) and our timeline will be preserved in an album for us to revisit later! Then we will begin the new year!

I am thrilled about this project and how simple it is. The Littles loved looking at all the memories we made this year so far and it will be fun to watch them grow in timeline form along the walls of our school room! 

Thanks Pinterest for an easy, do-able project!

Sometimes what family is...

It's this slow moving kind of day. So much work to be done and how can everywhere I look display a mess that will require more attention than I can give? And the youngest of "The Littles" keeps tugging his hair with his little thumb in his mouth and collapsing on my lap. I need to move. There is so much to do. And the oldest doesn't want her animal crackers but wants to dump every tiny toy onto the floor I just managed to clear and her eyes flare with an ornery disobedience I sometimes love. She's so wild and free and most days I just want to dance with her. But there is another "Little" coming soon and wouldn't it be great if she had clean clothes and a little space of her own when she arrives?

Just one day, I want to be that "has it all together woman". Why don't I? Why is that feeling so far and in between all the dumped out toys and little thumb sucking clingy boys and detangling spray for that girl's curls just as wild as she is?

I offer TV and slip away to do more laundry, but they find me again and want... just me. I throw my hands up and give in to the "to-do list" that I won't beat today. The unkept piles of mail and the towers of toys and dishes from dinner that still linger on the table linger still. And at 12:00 when I should be making lunch we eat Chex Mix in my bedroom, everyone all smiles and crunching.  The youngest works well with me because I prefer the chex and he only the pretzels. The oldest holds hers in a bowl like a treasure to be cherished. And I wonder- what will matter to them when they are old enough to say? Chex Mix in Mommy's room or always clean sheets and never dishes piled? Their faces tell. And is any woman really the "has it all together woman"? Those ones who seem to have it all together maybe have learned that the only way to have it together is to sometimes let things fall apart. This new little one may not be carried into a perfectly cleaned and organized home. But she will find two siblings who love her and a mother and father who can't wait to add her to this thing we call family. And as we eat Chex Mix and crunch and laugh and slow, I realize that's really what matters.

When you pray...

She was so adorable there, in her chair scooted up so close to the table. Plate of food before her, smile wide.  And she closed her hands and opened her words to pray:

"Thank you, Loyd, for the pizza...umm, and pizza...and..." Pauses to look at me. Holding up a breadstick she asks, "Mommy, what's this?"

"A breadstick," I smile.

"Umm, okay..." Closes her eyes once more. "And thank You, Loyd, for breadstick. Amen."

And my mommy heart swelled. Not with pride but joy that she's learning, too. Learning to name them- each and all- all the things she is thankful for. Because if we can name them, instead of blanket-like pray thanks for everything, we can learn to name the ways God is faithful, trustworthy, gracious, generous, sovereign, good. If she can hear me spill thanks instead of complaints, gratitude instead of selfish attitude, maybe then she'll believe me when I say I love the Lord I spill thanks to.

Because doesn't our attitude toward someone show how we truly feel about them?

How will she believe I feel towards God if all she hears is me complaining about what He's provided?

But how will she believe I feel towards God is she catches me spilling over thanks.

Thanks.

And if my words spill thanks perhaps my heart does to?

Thank You...

For a 2 year-old who names thanks
for pizza
and breadsticks
and the husband who brought them
and a night the oven (and momma) got to rest
for Christmas lights
and the true meaning of Christmas
for hard situations that bring light to your soft heart for me
for a  friend who loves me who I can call for opinions and advice
for date night
and Nana
and Your love for me that stretches farther than I ever will know

You have no idea

how much I love you.

Last night, we curled tight together on the tiny love seat and locked legs and squeezed middles tight. We had just finished a spontaneous spa time- soaked our feet in feet baths and clipped nails. You thought it'd be a good idea to sit in your bath and you were a smiling soaking mess by the time we were done.  I just kept thinking, "God has given me a daughter to share my world with. I am so blessed. I am so smitten with love."

And so, after our feet were dry and our clothes were dry, we cuddled close together on that tiny couch and held each other close and even sang that song you love: "This Little Light of Mine". And when I sing it with you, your smallish voice raising octaves in laughter and smiles, I can't help but think you are my little light, shining, beaming. You have no idea...

And we sat for a long time, long after your bed time, and we just held each other and talked about all the things important to you. And I gazed at this beautiful brown-eyed girl and wondered how so fast you became who you are now? I remember this little bundle, all 5 lbs. 8 ounces, wrapped in way more blankets than are needed in late April, bundled tight in a car seat, coming home. And I sat in the back with you staring at your every move, observing every breath, and wondered how I would ever again care about anything else in all the world. And your every move delighted and terrified me. You filled me with wonder.

And finally, last night, your little eyes started to droop and your voice grew quieter. "Mommy's tired." I whispered into your tiny ear. "Yeah, we're tired." You agreed. "Let's go to your room." You bargained. But I swept you up and took you to your room. Tucked my princess into bed after 4 books and prayers and more and more hugs. And my heart was so full I thought there'd never be a feeling in all the world that could replace this one. Never.

You have no idea how much. And that's okay. But baby girl, I love you. Always.

Love Mom.

Priceless Moments

It started as something on a whim. I helped the ten year-old clean his room and found a small dry erase board and a marker. When we'd finished and he ran downstairs I wrote on the board:

"You are wonderful. You are amazing. You are loved. I love you so much. Auntie Tricey (which is what he calls me)." And left it next to his bed.

He never said a thing about it. I didn't expect him to. Just hoped the message was received deep down into his being. Prayed and prayed he would hear it.

Then...today... A great day with some very not so great moments. I was on the receiving end of harsh, harsh words from someone whose feelings were hurt because of something I had decided. I stood by my decision, but those words. Those words racked me to the core. I was sad when the ten year-old came home from school so I explained to him, "Someone said very mean things to me today. It really hurt my feelings. There may be times in your life when someone does something like that to you. Remember to not say harsh things back at them, even if you really want to. Remember that you don't need to defend yourself. Remember to still honor God."

He looked thoughtful. Said he was sorry that happened. (He can be so mature at times.) Then we moved on with our busy afternoon...

At bedtime finally, I slip out of the infant's room and gather enough energy to change into my pajamas and get ready to plop onto the bed. But then I see it, on my pillow. The small dry erase board. A message written in ten-year-old pen:

"I love you auntie that you bless me. Roses are red, ice cream is cool and so are you! From Kameron to Auntie Tricey. Look on back"  So naturally, I looked on the back.

"Jesus loves you yes I know, for the Bible tells me so Auntie-O. Little ones come to Him, they are weak but He is strong- and so are you Auntie. Smiley Face."

Smiley face indeed.  What a way to end this day.

Great day, not so great moments, but other priceless ones.

Memory Monday: How I've Learned a Little What Love Is (Happy anniversary a few weeks late)

We were young. Oh my gosh we were young. You handsome and cool in that sweater vest I hated. Me all 20 and wild and carefree and a little wiser than I'd been a few years before.  You came, that night while I sat at the "Welcome" desk for Navigators. You came and you said you were looking for ways to get involved. And we smiled and talked casually. And yes, yes you tease me even now, I gave you my number. Best decision I'd made all year.

You called 8 days later, (maybe I counted) and we talked for two hours and it seemed we had more in common than not. I laughed, I remember, so so much. You were funny! You're still so funny.

That was August. August 2003. Babe, we've come a long way.

And we started "hanging" out. Coffee shops, movies, just getting together. We poured over each other's writing. We listened to Sade and Miles Davis and you enlightened me in music and I enlightened you in the art of cookie baking and my mad basketball skills. 

And in January you asked me, officially, you asked me "to go steady", because you're silly that way. And I said yes and by February knew I was in love. It was the best secret I'd ever kept because we promised we wouldn't say it till you put a shiny ring on my finger and promised to say it forever. 

And oh there were some bumps in the road- like former relationships and worries and what ifs. But we made it babe. Made it all the way to May of the next year when you, in front of our friends and our youth group and my mom, you got down on one knee and asked me that question. And you were so nervous you forgot to say I love you but I forgave you because you showed it, with that ring and with that knee bent, you showed it.

3 1/2 months later you proved it when you said "I do" on that day in August with the perfect weather and the handsome tuxedo and your hair cut just the way I like it. And I remember thinking, is this real? Is it really real? And you were. And you still are.

Man I love you. I can't believe the years that have gone by. Can't believe the way we've grown and melded and figured out just what love is (think we'll be figuring that out forever). Can't believe the things we used to fight about. Can't believe the things we've learned along the way.

You've given me happiness, hope, a safe haven, strong arms, wisdom beyond my years, 2 beautiful children, laughter, peace and more love than I know what to do with at times. You lead me, you love me. You are patient and collected when I am worried and fearing. You are calm when I am a tempest. 

I'm still right more than you are. :) 

Thanks for 6 years of marriage and 8 of knowing you. I would never dream of getting off this ride. 

Love you.

Yep- Family Dinners are Important

Statistics regarding family dinner time can be overwhelming! According to WebMD, studies have shown that many kids who eat dinner with their families get better grades in school, are more likely to avoid alcohol and drugs, and don't struggle with obesity. In addition, these children often tend to feel that their parents are proud of them, talk more and discuss serious problems, and experience less stress at home. 

Family dinner time isn't too challenging with little ones who aren't involved in extra curricular activities, but I can see how this will become more difficult as our children get older and have the opportunity to be do more things outside of the home! My 10-year-old nephew is staying with us for the school year and already we are seeing this time being threatened with upcoming basketball practices, school activities and even church activities! We have a firm stance right now that we will fight for dinners at home. Even if that means (gasp!) saying no to other activities that conflict with that!

So...I was browsing the internet searching for some ice-breaker games last week when I came across a dinner party planning site. The site had many ideas for throwing dinner parties, including Family Themed Dinner Nights. Intrigued, I clicked on the link and fell in love!  The site suggested having a themed family dinner some time and then showed several different theme ideas. Considering how I already felt about family dinners and also loving the idea of adding a bit flair of fun to an already great family tradition, I quickly set to work planning our family themed dinner. I chose Tuesday nights for family themed dinner nights as that is also our family game night. This first week (last night) was a surprise for all of the family except for my mom who I invited to join us and asked to use some of her decorations.  

I chose a 50's Diner Theme, so for dinner that night I made homemade cheese Runzas and circle fries, with fruit cups, and cookie bars and ice-cream for dessert. 

I used Pandora on my ipod to play some 50's themed music. And...

...before the kids got up from nap, (and after banning my nephew from the dining room) Mom and I hung some simple decorations...

And set the table.

 

I had a great centerpiece, but "Lil Mama" destroyed it two days ago. Oh well! 

We had a great time at dinner! Everyone loved the decor and the theme! 

And after dinner we all settled in to play some games! 

It was so much fun!

I love doing little things to show my family I love them and that spending time with them is the most important thing I do each day! What are some family traditions you have?

Next week- Fiesta Night!

WebMD article here!

My Daughter Needs a Lawyer

Look at this face.

Cute huh? Adorable even? You may even say, innocent looking.  You may say that. I know the truth.


Let me present the case:

The Crime:  Strawberry Theft

The Players:

The Suspect: "Tiny Tot"

The Pawn: "Innocent Infant"

The Cop: Simply "Momma" 

(not pictured, because, well, no one reads a blog to see pictures of moms)

The Scene:

It was an ordinary lunch time, 1200 hours on Tuesday, August 30th. Tiny Tot had ignored her sandwich and pretzels and devoured all of her strawberries, and then demanded more. Momma promised more strawberries when Tiny Tot ate the rest of her food. A tantrum ensued. (From Tiny Tot, of course.) No sandwich and pretzels were eaten, no strawberries rewarded.

The phone rings and wakes Innocent Infant.

Momma gets up from the table to answer the phone and then retrieves Innocent Infant from his car seat. She places him in his exersaucer with some cheerios to munch while she talks to her mom, all the while glancing at the angry toddler at the table. Tiny Tot's wheels are turning. She is plotting. Strategizing. Something within her snaps.

Distracted Momma doesn't see her get down from her chair.

A few minutes later, it's quiet in the house. Too quiet. Momma walks to the living room to find Tiny Tot sitting "innocently" on the couch. But something is amiss. She surveys the area. Tiny Tot? Check? Innocent Infant? Check. But what's that on his exersaucer tray...?

Strawberries. A lot of strawberries. Whole strawberries with tiny bites taken out of them.

Momma checks Innocent Infant's mouth but it contains only cheerios. After clearing away the strawberries, she then rushes to the kitchen to check the counter where she left the plastic container of strawberries, but it is gone. Then she spots it. In the trash can. Empty.

Walking back into the living room she notices Tiny Tot's eyes intently on her. She also notices she is chewing something and there is red dripping down her chin.

Guilty!

While Momma was distracted, angry Tiny Tot, tired of being denied strawberries, grabbed the container of strawberries down from the counter, took bites of all of them and then FRAMED Innocent Infant by leaving the strawberry remains on his exersaucer! She even disposed of the container! Criminal mastermind in the making.

Where did that land her? Behind bars.

2-4 years. She may get out on good behavior.

Memory Monday- How I Maybe Still Love to Play Cards

We sit across from each other at the breakfast nook table. I deal out cards as his feet dangle just above the floor. He had asked, after a game of Go Fish- "Do you know any other card games, Auntie?" I nodded, remembering.


Late evenings, two girls 29 months apart sit giggling on their bedroom floor. The older deals out cards and asks the younger, "Remember what you can put on a Jack? You always forget."

The younger smiles and says she remembers- readies her hand.

The older yells, "Go!" and they flip over their cards and laugh and squeal- "nine, ten, nine, eight, seven- no I was going to put mine there- too slow!"

There is a lull in the game as each surveys her hand. Both decide they can do nothing more and flip another card, more laughter ensues. During another lull, the younger stares intently at her cards and then up at her big sister. "Can I put an "A" on the Jack?" Her sister laughs softly, affectionately. "I told you you never remember. Nope, only a Queen or a 10." The younger frowns at her hand, but the older realizes a play and slaps down three more cards. "I win!" she yells triumphantly. "Let's play again!"

I finish dealing and stare at the sandy blond-haired boy before me. He looks like his dad but his smile is all his mom. That and his stubbornness and tender affection, too. 


"What's this game called, Auntie?" 


"Speed." I answer. The word gets caught in my throat. Why's it so hard to remember?


"Oooh, I don't know how to play, but I know it's gonna be fast!" He gets wide-eyed. Excited. Lord, he's so much like her, I say to Him Whom I know is ever-present. Help me keep it together, here.


I laugh and explain the rules. There are a few more than he'd like, but once we get going he laughs and declares he loves this game. I hesitate, then say,"Your mom and I used to play this all the time. She always beat me."


He smiles big, still so proud of her, I think. But then he announces, "I bet I could beat her." I smile at this competitive streak in him. He got that honest, too. 


"I don't know," I tease, "She was really really good!"


We sit in comfortable silence for a while. He thinking who knows what, and I...wishing for just a second for a chance to see that match-up and thousands more. 


Then- "Do you want to play again, Auntie?"


"Yep." I say finally. Thankful for this match-up right before me. 

When Words Do Flow

When words don't come I sit and doodle or think or trace the dated page over and over. I stare at the page and wonder.

It's a part of me. Writing. How I work things out, how I see things clearly. How I reach out or dig up or pile over.  But when words don't come I can't force them. They've a mind of their own and sometimes I think I'm just the vessel they use to make their voices heard. But I need them like water and I want to flow like it, too. Flow words like water. But when the tap is dry there is nothing I can do. Maybe.

But then, words are still a part of me, whether written or spoken or read or thought or heard. And so sometimes, when words don't come, I find myself thinking on them anyway. On the words I used with my husband or the cashier or my children. I think on the words I let myself take in through the t.v. or the radio or through the lips of a friend. I wonder on the tone I used to deliver them, the attitude I had to receive them, the motive I had before I said them.

I think, too, about His Words. How He promised that what He wanted them to achieve they would. Like water to the earth. (Isaiah 55:9-11) I think about how He is the Word, (John 1:1) and the power of Words. How they can build a person high or bring them crashing, falling, low. How they can fill and enrich or drain and destroy. How is a person after walking away from my words? How am I?

When words don't come, I take a moment and ask- what would people say, how would they feel, how might they live- when they do come? And if I can't say, with certainty, they would feel blessed, they would feel loved, they would feel uplifted, they would feel filled- well, then. If that is the case, then God take my words and transform them into something beautiful. Not for me but for your glory.

Unless words please the Lord there is no point at all in saying them, or typing them, or reading them, or hearing them, or thinking them.

"May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing in your sight, oh Lord, my rock and my redeemer."Psalm 19:13-14

Let it be so...

Having my Monster Cookies and eating them, too!

I made promises this summer that I intend to keep, even if that means making some sacrifices. For instance, I promised the Texan and one of my former students, a fifth grade girl we'll call "Julie" (I don't know why) who I am providing care for this summer, that I would bake with them this week. So bake we shall! 

Today we made Monster Cookies. They are good. They are very very, sinfully, good. The kids thoroughly enjoyed making this recipe but of course, as is the case with all good cookie recipes, they enjoyed eating the cookies the most. I didn't take any pictures during the process because I was too busy drooling. But, here's some of the finished product. (Some, mind you, because we have already eaten a considerable amount and we also sent 3 bags home with Julie. Quart sized bags not gallon, because I have trouble parting with cookies.)

This is an awesome recipe from my friend Mindee's blog. In fact, we'll be making most of her recipes all week long. Tomorrow is her Devil's Food cake, and Wednesday her cinnamon rolls. Thursday we're cheating and making a homemade ice cream sandwich recipe that I found online which doesn't actually require any baking at all, but it looks yummy and simple. SIMPLE. And I may have implied that this Friday we would take a field trip to a local gourmet cupcake shop to gorge ourselves learn more about baking.

It's a tough job, training young children in the culinary way they should go. But...I will sacrifice my time (and apparently my waistline) to answer the call.

The recipe! Just scroll down a bit!

What we all need

It had been a long day for my little boy. His little 7-month-old body was tight and tense and long, loud cries escaped from his mouth. Tears ran down his face which was contorted into a defeated and angry expression. It was bed time. He was done. The day of breaking in 6 new teeth had proven too challenging for him. He hadn't napped all day, hadn't been too interested in playing or laughing and now, now he was just done.

I scooped him out of his bouncer chair and turned the lights down in his cozy room, turned his sound machine on low- the sound of soothing rain, sank down into the recliner in his room and I nestled him close- one last time to nurse before bed. And he settled. He settled. His little eyes stopped seeping tears and his body relaxed and he melted into me. He was finally where he wanted to be. I looked down at his sweet little face, the face of the one I love, and I cried.

I cried.

Big, heavy tears shaking from me, maybe shaking me loose? Because, Oh God, isn't that where I want to be? Maybe where we all want to be? Oh to be nestled close to You where You can soothe the things that hurt. That have hurt so long. That hurt so deep. Because in 13 days the calendar will mark the date when she took her last breath 3 years ago and I'm still hurting for her, that sister who left too early. And there are other things, too, things I don't understand and can't make sense of but that hurt or make me pause and shake my head and wonder why? Isn't close to You, oh God, where You nestle me close and rock me still and settle me? As he settles- sweet little child- in my arms, I cry big, hard tears and wish and pray that You could settle me, too.

Isn't it what we all want? Oh God, ain't it what we all need?

And immediately, (oh, that hard hard lesson of gratitude), immediately I feel thankful that You are the settling type of God.


A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped...The disciples woke him [Jesus] and said to him, "Teacher, don't you care if we drown?" He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm...


..."Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!" (excerpts from Mark 4: 35-41)


Who is this? Oh, He's my settling type of God.


He does care. Care if we drown. If the sorrows of life- the hardness of life, the "why's?" and wonders and things that make us sadly shake our heads- threaten to swallow us up, to drown us completely. He cares. So when the day has been too long and the challenges of life have proven to be more than we can bear, He draws us close, nestles us close, and brings the stillness and the calm that we all need.

In that room, that quiet room where my little boy sleeps nestled and firm in the arms of a momma who loves him, I cry crazy gratitude that You are the God who settles and that I can sleep firmly nested in arms of a Father who loves me. Who calms the storm.

Isn't that what we need, oh God? Isn't that what we all need?