Give me grace

"The only thing left to do is worship Him." A few days before Christmas, I listened to the voice of wisdom pour over me through the lense of another's struggle...a sister in Christ a season ahead who has known suffering in her days yet who has grafted deep roots into the Vine finding overwhelming joy....a sister who chose refinement instead of isolation in the hard face of pain....a sister who allowed her "lot" to shape her into a trumpet sounding His glory...blasts to the Kingdom calling others to the march... As her words washed over me, a momentary fear choked my throat while an eager anticipation caused my skin to tingle....Lord, if I love you this much, there will most certainly be suffering...Lord, give me grace for it....Lord, do I love you as much as I claim to?....only suffering will prove....Lord, give me grace for my failing heart.... In that moment, grace was before me....grace was not just the unmeritted mercy of our loving God by sending His Son....it was a force, living and active in her....it was the peace of humility where raw emotions are rooted in surety....the surety of faith, hope, and love...the free gifts He gives us when we faithfully claim our inheritance as we trust in love that His thoughts are not our thoughts, neither His ways are our ways...a surety that transforms us into an instrument heralding eternity...eternity worshiping Him, and by the grace-filled gift of the Spirit we have glimpses of eternity NOW....yes, through the priviliege of worshiping Him. During advent, He kept calling me back to a favorite picture from the fall. I was running one day listening to praise music when I passed a beautiful tree of gold. As its heavy-laden limbs dipped down and offered its leaves to the earth, it had created a cocoon of gold. I could not wait for all the kids to get home from school, so they could see it....God calling out to us from His creation....a picture of what eternity might look like....the streets of gold in the New Jerusalem....we danced and laughed...time stopped for a moment engraving a memorial on my heart....as my dear three outgrow the "protective" cocoon with me in the toddler years, and I give them over more and more to the path leading to eternity He has paved for them, may He give me the grace as the stretch marks of my heart increase to remember this picture of hope and may these wise words ring true to the ears of my heart...."the only thing left to do is to worship Him"...the only thing left, and the greatest....let us fix our eyes on Jesus in worship as He reassures us the pain of this world will be but a moment for He is the Everlasting....Lord, give me grace....Lord, give me grace "I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done; I ponder the works of your hands. I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land. Answer me quickly, O Lord! My spirit fails! Hide not your face from me, lest I be like those who go down to the pit. Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust. Make me know the way I should go, for to you I life up my soul. Deliver me from my enemies, O Lord! I have fled to you for refuge! Teach me to do your will, for you are MY God! Let your good Spirit lead me to level ground! For your name's sake, O Lord, preserve my life! In your righteousness bring my soul out of trouble! And in your steadfast love you will cut off my enemies, and, you will destroy all the adversaries of my soul, for I am YOUR servant." Psalm 143

Feasting on our Savior

"Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me." Revelation 3:20 "But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which a man may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will love forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world." John 6:50 Yesterday, I glanced over to see Bruce slowly and almost solemnly walking into the kitchen carrying our Little People baby Jesus on a small silver plate. My interest was stirred...he then proceeded to tenderly place baby Jesus on the top step of our kitchen stool while he kneeled peacefully on the lower step as if to pray...in the very next second, the flaming red mop whipped around, looked at me, and said as he picked up the baby placing it to his lips, "I eat baby Jesus! YUM, YUM, YUM, YUM!!!!!!"...huge open-mouthed smile on his face. It seems our little buddy has taken the adage "you are what you eat" a little to literally and has a slightly skewed vision of how to "transform" yourself into the image of Christ, but what a sweet and humorous reminder to my heart of our God's overwhelming love for us, His sacrifice for us, and His great joy... "Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith, who for the JOY set before him endured the cross." Hebrews 12:2 We were the joy set before Him...the rescuing of us...our salvation was His joy...He came making Himself completely vulnerable and dependent as a baby...He suffered, literally pouring Himself out...and, He is still longing to give...all He asks of us is to make ourselves vulnerable, completely dependent on Him, then to feast...so what are you waiting on...we are in the season of great excess...go for it!...feast on the Giver of Life... "Jesus said to him, 'I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him." In His mercy and grace, He ruins us for the barren ordinary and places the rich opulence of the extraordinary in our hearts...eternity.

Sickness, Snow, Selah

"For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it." Isaiah 55:10-11 Tuesday at 1:30 am we awoke to the dreaded stomach bug...it had attacked our little Miss Mae. After getting all cleaned up and settled, she fell asleep on a little pallet her daddy had made for her in our bedroom. As I lie there trying to force myself back to sleep, I was feeling sorry for my sweet girl, but there was also a bit of excitement bouncing through my heart for the next day...the excitement of everything being put on hold...selah: to stop, to pause, to listen, to hang upon, always...to curl up in our home babying my girl...an opportunity for my increasingly independent girl to "need" me a bit more...this "need" bringing sweet reminders of her babyhood...the refreshing rush of collected memories...don't we all want our mommies when we are sick no matter the age...sickness creates a need that makes you fully present in the living waters of love...our most treasured, fragrant memories are rooted in dependence...the "need"...when we allow the pouring out of love's anointed oil on one another...the fleshing out of the gospel... When morning came, it brought with it the first signs of winter...snow slowly floating down almost in a whisper...His breath dusting the ground...Selah: the white causing us to stop, to listen, stirring our souls...even if we are not conscience of it, this image of regeneration is wired in our hearts...our great "need"...the snow blanket falls seeping the earth, washing away, making things new...this image of redemption...He washes us clean...white as snow... Later that day, I put my girl in the bed with me, and as her regular voice of authority morphed into soft waves of vulnerability, I soaked in the moment...the slight tilt to lovie's head as she placed her right under her nose...the ends of her toes softly brushing against my legs...the crisp, white pillow where we lay our heads...the whispy angel hairs that danced around her face...the sweet harmony of her breath that whistled at times...my breath meeting hers...our life force intertwined...a moment emblazoned for the always... On this day, from the sickness, Selah...true awakening...Selah bringing restoration...His gifts are all around us there to receive when we stop, pause, listen and hang upon the great I AM trusting His goodness and His provision for that moment. "Lift up your heads, O you gates; be lifted up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is he, this king of glory? The Lord God Almighty- he is the King of Glory. Selah" Psalm 24:9-10

Naughty or Nice

Over Thanksgiving in Virginia, my two sweet boys were playing in the dining room as the rest of us lingered over dessert, clinging to our time in conversation...it was a moment, a moment of peace...and, then I heard the cries of frustration bubble up from Whitt, "Bruce, you are making a bad choice!!! YOU ARE BEING MEAN!!!" These were fighting words...Bruce, true to his red hair and much like a volcano, erupted shouting back, "I AM NOT A BAD BOY! I AM NICE!!" (emphasis added with a foot stomp when he said "nice") The entire table was trying very unsuccessfully to muffle laughter. Why did we find it so funny? Not only because it came from just about the cutest package ever, but because it, at least for me, reflected the trap I fall into at times. We want to be "nice," desperately trying to be "nice" by our own strength, placing our self-worth in being viewed as "nice," and often being left in a state of bewilderment wondering what "nice" even really looks like. The problem is we fall short every time; our strength will always run out, leaving us with the tattered, empty remnants of anger, frustration, and disappointment. During this time of year, there is so much emphasis on being "nice," but true freedom to love begins in realizing just how "naughty" our hearts truly are...when we cease striving to be something we are not...the trading in of our "nice" for the lasting fruits of the Spirit (Galations 5:22,23) has its first birth pains in the discovery of who we really are at our core bringing clarity to our motives... Just as my two year old sits atop a slide, clinging to the sides, held back for a moment by fear, we sit at the top of our "self" (self-sufficiency, self-reliance, self-promotion, our self, our control...pride) held back by fear....but, there is hope...just like Bruce has a daddy ready to pick him up when he reaches the bottom and a brother willing to hold his hand on the way down, we too have a Father and Brother (Proverbs 18:24)...when we decide to let go and slide to the depths of our heart, there is the Son ready to hold our hand on the way down and the Father waiting at bottom of our innermost being, His arms wide open with sheer joy and love...loving us in all our "naughtiness," our downright ugliness...catching us, claiming us as His own, His prized possession...it is in that moment that we truly come to understand mercy, His bounteous mercy...and, once you grasp the depth of His mercy, the natural response of your heart changes to deepened trust and gratitude...as He scoops you in His arms, lifting you up in the air with laughter, you discover the feeling of peace...peace that passes understanding...you find joy in the thanksgiving in all circumstances...joy is peace smiling...this is the "nice," His love in us...skewed motives suddenly turn to a divine purpose in our lives as we seek to please the true lover of our souls...our Father in gratitude of His gift...His mercy, His Son. Ann Voskamp's wrote a beautiful blog here: http://www.aholyexperience.com/2011/11/the-first-real-thanksgiving/ She referenced Leviticus 7:11-13 The first time thanksgiving is mentioned in the Bible it is in an offering ALONG WITH the peace offering...we find His peace in thanksgiving...fellowship with Him...and, without understanding His great mercy by looking at the true nature of our hearts, our "naughtiness," is true thanksgiving even possible? The Thanksgiving Holiday and the Christmas celebration are just as intertwined as the thanksgiving offering and peace offering..."Peace on Earth, Goodwill toward men"...our peace on earth is a free gift we claim when we offer thanks...let us run to His overabundant, free gift like little children run to presents at Christmas time...without pretense, grabbing as much as we can. Yes, this Advent season I am finding the stillness, the peace amongst the busyness by daily recognizing just how "naughty" I truly am. May we live in His mercy and seek to serve by His grace.

Eight years in.....

and, it is back to the dating scene once again. Last thursday, I told Mae that when I picked her up from school on Friday we would go to the grocery, and she would get to make dinner for her Daddy. They were going to have a special date night at home. As you can imagine, screams of elation echoed from her...a date night with her hero!! But, if you looked to the right just two feet, you would have seen a very disgruntled sourpuss face on the verge of eruption...that is until I announced that Whitt would be picking me up for a dinner date out. An open mouth smile with added fist pumping turned way to a contemplative look from my boy with this question, "Mommy, where would you like to eat Friday night?" With those few words, my heart swooned at my little man's thoughtful heart, and the anticipation began..... Of course, before any big date comes both the humbling and forth-telling process of "getting-ready" with girlfriends....except this time my "girlfriend" was my beautiful brown-eyed girl. As she brushed, blow-dryed, and styled my hair with great care, Bruce walked past me pointing to the top of my head yelling, "It's a bug, It's a bug!!!" (Ok, I cannot believe I am about to divulge this, but I feel certain you will laugh so hard you might possibly wet your pants...so here you go! My complete embarassment for your entertainment...I have a small bump on my head that appeared during my pregnancy with Mae, and it grew just a bit with each consecutive pregnancy...yes, hormones cause some crazy things, and if you ask me, hormones are a sanctifying process in and of themselves), Now that the explanation is over...Continue.... Bruce: "It's a bug, It's a bug!!!" Mae, brushing my hair and with complete authority in her voice: "No, Bruce! That is mommy's brain." Bruce curiously comes to inspect Mae protectively yelling: "Don't touch it, Bruce!!!! That is where Mommy does ALL her thinking!!!" Next, I asked Whitt if he would like me to wear a dress or jeans. He very quickly picked jeans, then moments later very politely requested that I wear a WIG..... After all the eye-opening hoopla of getting ready, I listened as my big man whispered instructions to my little man in the back hall. Then as little feet scurried out the back door, ran around front, and the doorbell rang, those old, familiar butterflies flew out...as I opened the door to bright blue eyes with a crooked, wide smile, my knees buckled just a bit, and with a refreshingly beautiful open, loving, and eager heart, my little man looked at me and said, "Are you ready to go out with me?" My heart melted...it was one of those moments with the best kind of joy...the kind that is so full and big it physically hurts...where you wish it could last forever, but if it did, you are not sure you could take the sweet pain of it that long! It was some kind of night.... The next night I had a date with the original to celebrate eight years of marriage together, and as the butterflies fluttered and my knees buckled fully, I realized the two dates gave me a beautiful picture of a before and after, a past and present....that is, a fuller view of Michael...the qualities I most treasure in Whitt are pieces, the begotten parts of Michael in him....God's gift to me on our anniversary...a much deeper, sweeter, and wholistic appreciation for the man I had the privilege of marrying.... Eight years in, and with His blessings and mercies, the "dating" just keeps getting better and better. "O, magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together." Psalm 34:3

Our little Turkey's divine assignment

Whitt's Class Assignment: With the help of your family, make a disguise for your turkey so that it won't be eaten Thanksgiving Day!

Last week, Whitt and I raided the craft cabinet, scattering everything out on the dining room table. I then looked at those blue eyes full of eager anticipation, and said, "Go for it, buddy! I will be right here."

As I sat by his side handing him paper, glue, stickers, etc., I watched this turkey morph from Joseph with his coat of many colors, to an astronaut, then to a clown, and in the process, I realized that this assignment so clearly showed the true beauty/ giftedness of our boy.

To say he is energetic minimalizes who he is...minimalizes the intricacy of the gifts he has been given...minimalizes God's workmanship in him. Whitt's energy has passion, enthusiasm, creativity, perseverence, inventiveness....it has character....of course, his turkey has three different disguises that work together...it makes perfect sense if you know our boy...But, without consistency, this energy loses focus, turning inward instead of flowing outward and can easily implode in a meltdown.

As I was given a glimpse of my boy's beauty, there was that familiar whisper to my heart, the reminder of the divine assignment given to me....the turkey would never have come to its full "disguised potential" if I had not been sitting there quietly providing the assistance.

You see, in these younger years, the Lord has given ME the great blessing of being the consistency of love and discipline that allows this force to create and imagine fully....embracing and running with the gifts His Father has lovingly placed in him....

I recently heard our God raises up a platform when you are faithful in the small things. Never doubt the magnitude of the small things, and the beauty in the details. I am called to be faithful in these "small things," gently, yet strongly following the orders of this divine assignment, bringing consistency... and, amazingly getting to be a spectator as I watch the Great I Am raise the launching pad for this "force" He created.

Catherine Booth (she and her husband, William, founded the Salvation Army) used to whisper to her children before she tucked them in at night, "We do not exist for ourselves, we exist for others. The world is waiting for us.".....As mothers, I pray we never forget our eternal perspective, how this world will be reached through these unique, divinely-inspired blessings given to us, and how we teach them to be faithful with their gifts when we are faithful in our assignment of loving them. May we cling to One who made us in His details.

And to my dear boy, remember the gifts given to you, your divine and intricate design, this energy with character, and remember to lean into our God and seek Him with all that you were created to be.....never forget the One who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life brings the direction, focus, intentionality, and vision needed to change this world, and He wants to use you!

To the Joseph in you, I pray you seek to always serve the Lord faithfully and persevere with His strength. With His grace, may you bloom wherever you are planted just like the boy with the coat of many colors.

To the astronaut in you, I love you to the moon and back.

And, to the little clown in you, you are truly a son of laughter to us.

His sky is the limit for you my son when you soar on eagle's wings with Him!

And, to the this world, watch out for this little man of ours! Judging from his turkey, our God is going to be coming after you from multiple directions when our boy seeks to serve his Creator faithfully.

The Way

In the busyness of life, I have found that nothing can slow down time, creating space and connection in a moment like the Word of God.....

Two years ago, when the morning schedule of school at 8 am began, God showed me I needed a way to slow down, "check-in," and connect with each child just before their day started outside our home. I started bear-hugging each one just before they walked out the door and praying a "blessing" (as they call it) over them. Their "blessings" come from the book Praying the Scriptures for your Children and are scriptures organized by spiritual character traits, needs, and relationships.

Just last week, Mae and Whitt had both just left the house, and I returned to the sink to clean up breakfast dishes. Next thing I knew a crazed ball of red hair flashed by me, grabbed hold of both my legs and with great determination and force, turned my body to face his, then shouted with angry, frustrated raw emotion, "I WANT MY BLESSING!!!"

Immediately a vision of Jacob wrestling with God in the desert flashed across my mind filling my heart and soul.... Jacob replied, "I will not let you go unless you bless me." Genesis 32:26b. Jacob wrestled with God refusing to let go until God blessed him, and God had Jacob exactly where He wanted him....a broken man realizing how much he needed His Father, and in complete dependence on the One who made him....the Lord had waited patiently for that moment.

And, in my moment, there stood my very own little Jacob making claim to his "blessing."

...The Almighty God of Heaven and Earth WILL wrestle with my Bruce, and although my flesh will painfully wince and struggle as I watch (for Jacob did not walk away unscathed from wrestling with the Lord, but with a limp for the rest of his earthly life), it will be my soul's joy to watch my God draw our son closer to Himself by His plans as my son learns to refuse to let go...yes, indeed, there will be some wrestling....

Proverbs 22:6, "Train up your child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it."

I am going to be completely honest when I first became a mother this verse intimidated the hell out of me, no pun intended. Thoughts raced through my legalistic brain, "there is so much to teach them, where do I start, how do I do it, I don't know enough." Notice all the "I"s...

But, as I look at it now I see "the way"....and, the only question I ask myself is "what does God want most?"....and, the answer is both simply and overwhelmingly "our heart".....nothing else...no other offering...and, there is the key....a heart after His own heart is "the way."

I am to raise my son in the way. My son is to see in me a heart longing and yearning unconditionally for the Lord, realizing my complete need for the Way and His mercy...there has, is, and will continue to be lots of mistakes, lots of messiness on my part...but, as long as my heart yearns solely for Him, He will take care of the rest...May I trust Him fully, crying out in thanksgiving....

In the Psalms,

"Surely you desire truth in the inner parts; you teach me wisdom in the inmost place." 51:6

"You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart." 51:16

"I will sacrifice a freewill offering to you; I will praise your name, O Lord, for it is good." 54:6

"He who sacrifices thank offerings honors me, and he prepares the way so that I may show him the salvation of God." 50:23

yes, we are a mess, but there is hope...

Our God does desire truth and wisdom in the innermost places of our heart...He does not want burnt offerings, but only our broken and contrite hearts turned to Him...the offering of our freewill with thanksgiving....and, He will get us there even if it takes getting down in the dirt wrestling with us.

Out of Three Stitches

Well, we had our first trip to the urgent care clinic a little over a week ago, and suprisingly, it wasn't with one of the boys....

Our Miss Mae was playing chase with her energetic cohort, Whitt, after bath time, and slipped on a shark costume busting her little chin on the floor.

I scooped her up, grabbed lovie, and drove to the clinic. By the time we arrived, her tears had turned into a slight frown which turned into a small smile when I told her we could watch "Mary Poppins" on the Ipad, and then, the slight smile turned into elation as her daddy walked through the door.

As we waited, enjoying our girl, I thought this is turning into a pretty great evening, a date night with Mae. Our children quite often get "alone" time with both Michael and I separately, but rarely get both parents to themselves...especially for the older two who often get lumped together like twins.

After a pretty pleasant hour and a half as well as a pack to numb Mae's wound, it came time for the three stiches, and I watched my girl's animal instincts kick in full force when she spotted the needle and thread. She literally climbed and scaled her daddy desperately yelling "Please NO!!!" and "I want my mommy to hold me. Take me home!!!"

After five minutes, the nurse gave us the options of either giving her anxiety medicine or bind her arms and body in a sheet. Feeling conflicted, we chose the latter trusting He would provide us with what we needed....along with the nurse's promise that it would only take a few minutes.

They wrapped her and laid her down allowing me to be the one to hold her head still, and in some small way, I felt like I was laying my own Isaac down. I leaned down over her, my eyes hovering directly over hers, and I began to sing her favorite hymns. My mom and I have often lovingly laughed listening to Mae hum along to old hymns like a little old lady in the back of the car, and as she heard those familiar songs, she relaxed with a look of trust and sweet acceptance (even under the strain of my glass-breaking voice).

And, then I felt...Immanuel was not just with us, around us, beside us, but also flowing through us. As I peered into my girl's deep brown eyes and she into mine, our spirits were perfectly aligned with a purity not of our own naturally bent hearts, but a purity only the heart of Christ can bring.

After a few minutes had passed, Mae looked over at the nurse, and I found myself ferociously jealous, just a small glimpse of what His jealousy must be when we take our eyes of Him even if just for a second.

They had finished and unwrapped the cloth around her and as she sat up, I knew He had resurrected and shined truth and life in an area of our relationship, softly taking it to even deeper depths....a place I didn't know was missing...and for once, I didn't feel the need to explore the reasons why in "self-awareness"....a place where my own mind can trap me at times...my heart just accepted His gift in gratitude.

I often think about God's timing...but that night I experienced a new aspect of it...His ability to transform a situation instantly...and, I also know He had that night planned for Michael, Mae, and I long before any of us were born....I went from holding back tears of pain for my girl to feeling tears of joy for the fullness and blessing of the moment and a greater glimpse into Jehovah Rapha ...bearing a new gift of love.

Since that night, she has clung to me a little harder, stopped to linger just a moment longer....always on her terms, with me always loving every minute of it.

So to my girl, my child who is the hardest for me to understand, who quietly and beautifully challenges me, and who I LOVE deeply to my core, I want you to be able to read this later in life when the unfortunate pain of this world has tempted you to close off pieces of your heart and I want you to stop and look at the small scar on your chin remembering the gift we were given out of the pain, the more wholistic view we received of our King, and more importantly remembering His overflowing and pursuing love of YOU......and love, my dear one, with the same courageous open heart you were given that night.

"He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds." Psalm 147:3

"He who believes in me, as the Scripture has said, 'From his innermost being will flow rivers of living water'." John 7:38

Yes, more on teeth!

"There is one who speaks rashly, like the thrust of a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing." Proverbs 12:18

I recently heard someone speak on this proverb in reference to anger...saying our outbursts of anger, the words we unleash, are like a bomb that explodes. We move through the bomb, but we leave shrapnel everywhere in those around us.

Well, a bomb exploded this past Tuesday...and, it was in my mouth..

After letting Mae choose when she would complete her homework, she decided to go ahead and work on it as I was fixing dinner while in her purple princess dress and highskills (her adorable word for highheels)....not because she was eager to do it (I feel certain she wanted to continue dress-up), but because she wanted to be able to go to a birthday party the next day after school......which is why after I read her the directions she flung herself to the floor in an Oscar-winning dramatic performance/ meltdown saying "I CANNOT DO IT!! I DON'T KNOW HOW!"...And, then it was my turn to explode...As I turned to put my cooking spoon down and "attempt" to help my girl, I clenched my teeth, trying to keep myself under control, and the explosion literally happened in my mouth...as I clenched, I felt a little shard of my tooth chip off...yes, tooth shrapnel from my explosion of frustration in my mouth....

Go back three weeks, Mae's second day of school...Michael accidently dropped Mae off at the wrong entrance to her building (long story, but she told him to drop her there). That night over dinner he asked her how she found her way to the classroom, she replied with, "when I don't know where I am going, I just sit down until I know which way I need to go." At that moment, my mouth dropped, and as I have often done before with Mae, I thought how profound this little gift of ours can be...without thinking twice, she spoke spiritual truth to each of us at that table...simply and sweetly, the reminder... When we don't know which way to go, we need to sit and wait in Him, praising Him for being the Way, until we hear His path for us.

You see that is why there is a small chip in my tooth...I was trying to do it alone...Mae's "I DON'T KNOW HOW" reflected my own I-don't-know-how of that moment, that reflection frankly made me angry; I just saw my insufficiencies, not my abundunt sufficiencies in Christ... I was leaning on my own cripling capabilites leaving me frustrated...

But, as I prayed later and listened to the Kingdom voice of my Father, I heard, "when I don't know where I am going, I just sit down until I know which way I need to go." Instead of our two frustrated spirits bumping up against one another (Mae's rather loudly; mine bottled up, but just as forceful and wounding), I was to invite Him to be with us using the love language of the One who had already spoken to her in the hallways of school...I was to sit down on the floor next to my Mae, and softly say I hear you, I understand you, I am with you, let's figure out which way to go...

His Kingdom voice is authoritative, an authority that is freeing for us...just as we tell our children not to touch a hot stove, so their finger won't get burnt and they have full use of their hand; our Father asks us to listen to his voice so that we to can reach our utmost, not cripled by our own weaknesses.

And, as we grow in this recognition of His voice, Matthew 11:30 begins to lovingly make sense... "For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Life as a Christ-follower will most certainly have suffering, but the understanding of our Father's voice and the power of Jesus' name bring clarity and peace.

So, I rejoice in thanksgiving over the chip in my tooth because although you might not be able to see it I can feel it every time I gently run my toungue across my teeth, and I am reminded of the Giver of Life who transforms my gaps making me whole, my desperate need of childlike faith, my need for learning, understanding, and trusting my Father's voice, and the loving authority of the One who made me for His glory....the beautiful art and privilege of losing myself for His praise.

And, I know this picture has nothing to do with this story, but man, those kids are cute!

Of teeth and timing...

God's timing so often blows (albeit sometimes in an annoyed, selfish, praying for peace kind of way) my mind, and it is usually one of the ways that I feel most loved and safe in Him...

I have tried to wrap my brain around the thought that He in His omniscience knew from the beginning of time exactly what we need and when....intentionally and intricately weaving lives together over minutes, days, years, decades, ,centuries....all our stories to be part of His story...Our God who references the importance of intentionality so often in His Word...Our God who says, "Where there is no vision; people will perish" Proverbs 29:18....How could we doubt the intricacy of His plans, His vision....His timing reveals the depth of that intricacy. It reflects that He, as our Creator, intimately knows both the desire of our hearts and our true needs far better than we do.

One of the beauties of His timing is the range of emotions we experience, both the hurt and the healing. He gives us these emotions, allows and wants us to experience them; and more than anything, He wants us to bring these emotions to Him... It is often the beautiful ache of the wait where we meet Him. It is in that wait where you find that what you might have been clinging to so tightly is nothing compared to the healing He brings and the fullness of Him...It is often in the wait that the desire of our hearts and our true needs align in perfect peace, and we discover we are blessed...blessed with more than we could have imagined for ourselves.

And, He knew exactly what our Mae needed on August 25, 2011. It was time for her first tooth to fall out. At first mention, one would think, "Oh, fun, very exciting! I bet she looks super cute!" But, when you look deeper into the weave, you see the marvel of the pattern...

About six weeks ago, Mae came home from a little summer camp saying her tooth was loose. I would check it, and it wouldn't budge. Different teeth would be "loose," and yet, none of them were budging. A few weeks later, she told a very discerning GaGa that a little girl had told her that you become a "big" girl when you lose a tooth. A mark was made on our little girls' heart, a hurt, a hurt that caused her to cling to a view of herself and maturity through a skewed lens. We talked about how that made her feel and what really makes a "big" girl, actions and choices. The choice of using ecouraging words to build up one another, the actions of being a loving and serving big sister, friend, and neighbor, then we talked about God's timing, how he knew her perfectly and already knew the perfect time for her first tooth to fall out. We later prayed that she would see herself through the clear lense of Truth.

Yes, Mae was hurt, and Our God gave us an opportunity to speak spiritual truths to her. He was concerned with growing her heart as well as her teeth, and after He tended the garden of her heart, He knew it was the perfect time for her to lose not one, but two teeth, two days in a row, to a very captive audience at school!

His timing is the beautiful pursuing love for which our hearts long...He pursued and continues to pursue my girl! May He give me the strength and courage to remember to turn her over to His love despite the hurts.

Fine Feathered Friends

Michael and I just got back from a wedding in St. Johns and very thankfully we were able to have a few extra days just the two of us after the wedding weekend. As we were sitting enjoying one of the seven (yes, I said seven) beautiful beaches on the property where we stayed, I noticed a giant pelican soaring through the clear blue sky about fifty feet overhead. He suddenly tucked his wings, securing them as close to his body as possible, forming a perfect bullet shape, then took a very determined, deliberate, and poised nose dive directly into the water below. He never hesistated, not for an instance. He seemed to never think of the sting the initial impact of the concrete-like ocean surface would bring; he was just focused on the plentiful provision and unending bounty that lay underneath. He did it over and over again in a beautiful display of grace, agility, and stewardship.

Then I noticed the petrel...this little bird would very astutely follow the pelican in its different patterns through the sky, but when it came time to crash into the vast ocean below, the petrel would start the nosedive with eager anticipation and intensity, then would start slowing itself down as the wall of water became closer. With the repitition and guidance of the pelican, it would get closer and closer to the surface, yet inevitably would swerve at the last minute, never crashing through to the ocean below, just softly landing on the surface, and every time the patient and persistent pelican would emerge from underneath with his provision of fish and would feed the petrel, sustaining it.

As we watched their relationship continue the following day, Michael said, "what a lazy bum!" I immediately retaliated defensively with selfish sympathy for the petrel saying, "The petral is not lazy, but trapped by fear. He wants to do everything the pelican is doing!! He just can't."

I say selfish sympathy because at times I can be just like the little petral, so wanting to follow the path of our patient, grace-filled, persistent savior to the vast, overflowing heart of our God, so needing and wanting to breakthrough to the place full of love, joy, and peace....these gifts in unending forms...a place of abundance and bountiful provision....and, then the fear of suffering, sorrow, or pain (my brokeness) creeps in just like the sting of crashing into the ocean surface...I begin to look to my own insufficient capability, forgetting that I am under my companion's, my savior's wings where all things are possible... where I have all I need and more...

But, even when I let fear overtake me and I swerve from where He is leading in an attempt at "self-preservation," He is still there, waiting mercifully for me, ready to fill me up with a portion from that source of unending love, despite my failure, then patiently showing me the way again...

This world we live in can be a hard world, full of unexplainable suffering, sorrow, pain, and heartache....just like the surface of the ocean in the middle of a wild storm where waves are crashing all around you, where you see no way out and you can't hear your own voice, only darkness and noise seem to surround, but when you go deep enough beneath the surface, the crashing turns into a side to side rocking motion and the loud noise takes on soft, muffled echoing sound....the pain and suffering is still present, but when we plunge deeply into the one true source of perfect love, a sense of transforming peace can come with it.....and, we see the blessings surround us and these blessings abound as we pass these portions on...loving with wild abandonment, bravely...the way He loves us

"He has covered me with his feathers, and under his wings I do trust." Psalm 91:4

"Therefore I begin to think, my Lord, you purposely allow us to be brought into contact with the bad and evil things that you want changed. Perhaps that is the very reason why we are here in this world, where sin and sorrow and suffering and evil abound, so that we may let you teach us so to react to them, that out of them we can create lovely qualities to live forever. That is the only really satifactory way of dealing with evil, not simply binding it so that it cannot work harm, but whenever possible binding it with good. " Hannah Hurnard, Hinds' Feet on High Places

Maeisms

Just a few quotes from Mae over the past couple of weeks:

*Upon me looking down at the purple ribbon stolen from her favorite doll which was then wrapped around her ankle so tighthly that her foot was also taking on a purplish hue, she says, "This is my anklet! Don't you like it!?!"

*While in Florida, a little discussion took place between Shea and Mae about Christie, Shea's mom....

Shea: "My mom doesn't eat breakfast. She just drinks coffee."

Mae: In her most disapproving voice and shaking her head, "That's just WRONG!"

Hey, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!

*Last week, I was reading a book to the kiddos when we were transported to England when Mae said to Whitt, "I received this very book on my birthday last year."

*The grand finale is her quote as I gave Michael a goodbye kiss, "Why do the two of you always chew each others' faces off!?!"

*Oh, and not to be outdone by his sister, Whitt informed us in his most exasperated tone as he kept trying to stack a wall of blocks to the ceiling that, "there is a little man living in the box at the top that keeps shaking and knocking them down!"

Just had to share!

Sand fleas

Last week, we were in North Carolina at my in-laws beach house, Whaleyboo. I have really grown to love this spot.... it is the house, the deck, then exactly thirty-eight beautifully character-aged wood steps down to the sprawling beach and vast Atlantic Ocean, that is wonderfully it.......

As we were flying out there, I found myself brainstorming different activities and games we could do to keep our little ones energy focused in positive ways, thinking about the right balance of free play vs. entertainment, structure vs. use of imagination...

Then, we landed, hit the grocery for the week, went to the beach, and bascially stayed there for the next seven days...

The first morning as I looked out over the ocean and horizon, feeling that awesome sensation of your feet being more and more firmly planted in the sand as the tide goes in and out, that soft, sweet rhythm of the waves splashing over them acting like nature's own personal foot massage, I looked down for a moment and saw what looked at first glimpse like a school of fish swimming out each time the tide drifted out. My interest peeked, I realized upon closer inspection that it looked a little more like a swarm of large bugs popping out of the sand and swimming.

Moment OVER! I have always considered myself fairly outdoorsy, but these little boogers grossed me out. As I turned around in disgust, I watched in horror as my man scooped up a large handful of wet sand, walked up the beach, dumped it on the drier sand, and eight little critters came racing out scurrying back to the wet sand to bury themselves. Now, I am sure you are saying to yourself, "So what!?! It sounds like just a crab." But these little things were more like a cross between the largest bug you have ever seen and a crab which is why they are affectionately known as sand fleas...perfect name, perfect description, and as far as I was concerned, YUCK!.....

But, as the days passed, my affection for these little nothings grew and they amazingly turned into somethings. I watched as my little "bugs" delighted in these little fleas. It was the beach's own built-in toy chest. Bruce who affectionately called them "animals" would request to see and hold one over and over. Mae and Whitt would collect them in water buckets, and we would have sand flea races seeing whose could make it to the wet sand and bury themselves the fastest as we yelled and screamed cheering them on. By the end of the week, I found myself walking up the beach collecting giant handfuls of sand searching for the little guys....

And, that is where I found the sand fleas' beauty. God reveals himself through His Word and His Creation. He is whispering and screaming out to us in all directions, but in this McSupersize me world of instant gratification, we get so busy, so focused, so determined, so analytical we at times miss His beauty. My mind was so busy, so focused, so determined, analyzing how I could create the perfect family vacation, and all we really needed was God, us, and His offerings. Our God who can be so complicated in His extravagant redeeming love for us, His jealousy for us, His wrath, His judgement, His realtional being, His plans, His purposes, His holiness, His mercy, His sweet restoring grace that our brains can't possibly understand the fullness of Him can also be so beautifully simple as he calls us to slow down, to really feel His love, bask in it, His joy, the joy that is peace smiling....even using a sand flea.....

And, it is in these truths of the heart, where my brain and my flesh rest with my heart, that I know to my core without a shadow of doubt that He is the Truth, His ways are the only Way, He is the Great I am, lover of my soul....

"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." Psalm 46: 10

She wore an.....

itsy, bitsy...teeny, weeny....yellow polka-dot ZUCCHINI!!??!!

A conversation between Mae, Whitt, and I at the beach...

Whitt: "I really like your tazakanini!!"

Mae, in her most patronizing "you are only a four year old and I am a five year old" voice: "Whitt!! It is not a tazakanini! It is a zakanini!"

Mae pondering for a few moments, but trying to hide the uncertainty. Then, you see the light bulb ding in her head.

Mae: "No, it is a zucchini. Mommy, we really love your zucchini!"

Unabashadely

I have dealt with guilt from the very first moments of becoming a mother, and over the past few years I have realized that guilt is the direct nemesis of joy, the joy that has been lovingly sent to us. Therefore, I choose to delight in praise and thanksgiving all the more when I feel the undercurrent of guilt slowly seeping in, and my beautiful two-year old birthday boy with the red curls has allowed me to do so with gusto.

I could feel completely guilty that I have really babied my last baby, I mean really babied!

BUT,

I prayed for this child, this baby, my last, and God has made me feel so loved with the gift of our red curls. He knew I needed a human barnacle turned koala bear who wraps and enfolds himself around me lingering just a little bit longer than the others ever did; He knew I needed a baby who has a bit of Mae's quiet confidence and independence as well as a bit of Whitt's energy and boyish excitment giving me glimpses back to my two other beautiful babies; He knew I needed a little one who fiercly grabs my hand and will assert himself with his booming deep voice when he needs a "mommy" fix; He knew I needed red curls that probably won't see their first haircut for another couple of years; He knew I needed a child who is not won over easily (this kid can give the stink-eye like no other) which makes his love for me that much sweeter with a heart-warming intensity to it; He knew exactly what I needed and more than I could have dreamed of, and I in turn have honored Him by unabashadly delighting in this child, soaking in every moment of babyhood-every giggle, cry, and sweet swishing sound of a diaper on the move; the intoxicating smell and delicate touch of soft baby skin; the moments of wonder and excitement experiencing the "firsts" of life-savoring all of it to the full, not allowing the guilt to rob any part of this joy sent to us.

God in His infinite wisdom has created birth order, the amazing intricacies of the one and only relational God....

And, in my mind and heart, it is no coincidence that the disciple John was both the youngest and called the disciple whom Jesus loved. The one who sat closest to and leaned his head against Jesus during the Last Supper....

You see, even Jesus "babied" the youngest of his very loved and treasured followers....

So, friends, overwhelmingly, brazenly, fully, and shamelessly baby your baby!

Happy 2nd Birthday, Red! The only problem with you my dear one is you make me want more and I wish there were two of you!

PS-Nothing says happy birthday like Daddy squirting whip cream in your mouth while at the beach!

From Trash to Treasures

In the past, showing you my junk drawers (there are two. ok, maybe three) would be the equivalent to me having to strip naked and streak past you.

The normal routine with my drawers is stuff/ life gets packed and packed in them until the messiness guilt I feel when I open them and the twitching that occurs in my type A++ husband when he sees them causes me to dump everything out, sort, clean, and organize, usually every three, four, or maybe six months.

But, as I opened one of them today, my most used of the three, I realized that for me personally when these drawers are full and at their messiest, the other areas of my life are alot less messy, my joys seem to be resting more in the permanent, the longer lasting marks, the moments, my true loves. It is a small sign that I have let go of my selfish need for performance, which really at the root is just my need for approval, to enjoy the blessings that have been put before me, offerings that far exceed any silly standard I have set for myself.

As I rifled through the drawer, I found a lava rock from Maui where I was able to look out over the vastness and beauty of a volcano, ribbons and nail polish which allow some of my favorite conversations with my girl as I linger just a little bit longer while fixing her hair and painting her nails, a set of shark cards that have provided hours of fun, laughter, and fascination for my boys and I, ear phones reminding me of outdoor runs where I return mentally and physically restored-the health I have been given, a receipt from dinner with friends, paint pens used for a project with some special boys who most of the time end up teaching me, a card where I had desperately journaled out a prayer with an issue in my life that I now have seen answered.....this jumbled up mess of a drawer that looks like junk to everyone else somehow serves as a beautiful reflection to me of what I really need.....and, how much we even with all our junk are that much more beautiful to the One who made us, He really sees us......and, how often what seems to be our junk is used to transform us into His treasured offering.

And, ok, maybe today I just really didn't want to tackle my junk drawer : )

Daddy is soooooooo Holy!!

Conversation between Whitt and I today in the Target parking lot: We were singing, "Wheels on the Bus." We had made it through all the normal verses, and I said, Me: "Who do you want to sing about next, buddy?" W: "Daddy" Me-starting to sing: "The daddies on the bus,....What do they do, buddy?" W: "Read" Me-singing: "The daddies on the bus read their books, read their books.." W: "NO, Mommy! They read their bibles!" Me-singing: "Ok, the daddies on the bus read their bibles, read their bibles, read their bibles. The daddies on the bus read their bibles, all through the town..." Then I asked, "What do the mommies on the bus do?" Whitt's response, "NOTHING!!!" No worries, just the night before Whitt had looked at Michael with his most stern glare and stated in his most irratated voice, "I am 10,000 times angry with you, Daddy!" complete with a righteous foot stomp.

MCS-CMS

Most mornings as Michael is getting ready for work, the kids ask if they can buckle his belt. For some reason, they absolutely love doing it, he always obliges, and the squeal of excitement always reaches alternate decibel levels. I like to think they are buckling his "belt of truth." Nothing can keep you honest quite like three little stairsteps.

Well, one morning about a month ago, Mae looked at Michael's buckle (which has his initials engraved on it) and in joyous shrieks announced, "Daddy, Daddy, we have the same initials!!!" And, indeed they do, just in a slightly different order. The funny thing is she was the first one to ever notice it (which shouldn't surprise me because she has one of the most perceptive souls I have ever run across), and as soon as she said it, it made perfect sense.

Michael and Mae have always had a unique bond, their father-daughter relationship was lovingly taken to a deep level early on when I was placed on bedrest for six weeks only four days before Mae's first birthday. Michael was suddenly thrust into the position of main caretaker of our sweet baby girl at an age when physical touch is so much of the parent-child relationship, and that cemented the foundation that was already being laid, she is truly and blessedly a daddy's girl.

Here's the thing. I don't believe in coincidence; I absolutely believe that everything is part of one big plan, every tiny thread lovingly woven together, every minute detail. And, I just happen to love that He engraved their names on His hands using the same initials. He knew about it all along, and in typical fashion, it just took us a little longer to catch up.

Happy Fathers' Day, love! You sure know how to make both your "girls" feel special.

And, there are two beautiful boys who are pretty crazy about you as well!

PS-I like to think the little unique flip/ slightly different order in their initials is my presence, a little part of me running through both of them, just mixing things up a bit.

My Bed Runneth Over...

Michael is away for the weekend, and the hour that I seem to miss him the most on his weekends away is the early saturday morning hour-when we are not having to scurry out of the bed to start our day, but can lounge just that little bit longer (and I say little bit because our little trifecta only tolerates the lounging for brief moments).

But, this morning at 6:15 am, I heard the soft creek of our bedroom door call to me as tiny little dancer foosteps delicately climbed over the foot our bed. Our firstborn, the one who from day one has been on her own time-table, our beautiful sweet early-bird, this baby girl who when she was being formed in me sat at the highest possible point, a tiny ball being knit together as close to my heart as possible, this brown-eyed wonder who is wise beyond her years and has patiently waited on me, somehow understanding and accepting my mistakes, teaching me just as much as I could ever teach her, the one who made me a mommy, who shook me to my core. As she softly crawls up the bed and almost silently slips under the covers, our two bodies stretch next two one another and as she grabs my hand and I delicately interlace our fingers, I look over at that perfect button nose and wispy angel hair and just drink her in, all of her.

In the next few moments, I hear the loud creeking of the boys' old bedroom door, the baby trying his absolute hardest to figure out this whole doorknob concept in his usual, but charming bull-in-a-china shop way. I then hear his older brother come to the rescue, and in his usual way, turn the knob, jet down the hall, and bound over our bed in three seconds flat with the noise of not-yet-completely-sturdy, heavy-footed running coming down the hall after him. I look over to see red curls stretching arms as high as they can possibly go with that look of "get me, get me, get me, get me, GET ME" and I reach down for my youngest, my youngest with his beautiful red curls, my youngest that I have so delighted in, holding on to every last precious moment of babyhood, this one who completed the missing piece of our family, this one who not only grabbed hold of me aggresively as a baby, but who also grabbed hold of my heart hard as well. As I lift him into our bed and I lie back instictively grabbing my girl's hand again, red curls, in his koala-bear manner, throws one leg over my chest and lies down, wrapping himself around me, our chests and hearts beating next to one another, those soft red curls brushing my chin.

And, finally, our middlest (as he calls himself) finds his special spot in this interwoven web of love. My beautiful blue-eyed boy, my passionate boy with the eyes that are a lifeline all the way to his soul, my effervescent joy, this boy who is so much like his daddy, this boy who has showed me a whole other side of the man I love for so often he gives me momentary glimpses of Michael as a child, this boy with the wide open heart who loves bravely, calms and stills his body just long enough to curl beside me and place his head on my womb, the very place where all of these beautiful, God-breathed creations began, these perfect unions of Michael and I, each unique from the other and each divinely-inspired, and for the brief moment before the wrestling, bouncing, tumbling, "keep your hands to yourself" of our day begins, I soak all of them in to the full, wishing this moment would last forever, but knowing its brevity is what makes it that much sweeter, and my heart is so full that my chest physically hurts.

Sleep Monster vs. Sweet Dreams

Well, the battle of "dropping" the nap wages on in the world of our little man. Just about every morning, Whitt will ask, "Do I have to take a nap today?" The reply is usually, "Not if you don't want to, but you will have to play quietly by yourself for a little while." (A mommy needs a little forty-minute quiet play time to herself as well, right!?) And, Whitt always insists he doesn't need a nap!

So, after two nights of staying up later than normal enjoying the laxity of summer, we found our man crashed on the floor, this time not even on the carpet, just right on the hard wood. I had spotted him lying there on top of his blankie and asked if he wanted to go to our bed or his bed to nap and of course, he did NOT! Then, a few minutes later, he was OUT, for a good hour I might add. Later that night, a friend who has known him since day one was pondering what exactly must goes through his head right before he gives into the sleep monster.

I feel certain it is something like this:

"I am not tired, I am not going to sleep, I am not going to miss any of the action. I am not tired, I am not going to sleep, I am not going to miss any of the action. I am not tired, I am not going to sleep, I am not going to miss any of the action."

But, my hope for all my beautiful ones is that in those last few seconds the battle switches over to the blissful stillness of sweet dreams and they hear the soft whispers to their beautifully open hearts:

"I am loved. I am loved. I am loved. I am loved. I am loved. I am loved. I am SO loved."

A Case of the Blues

I have been reading this book, "1000 Gifts" by Ann Voskamp (great book! do yourself a favor and go get it! she is such a beautiful, eloquent writer-the type of writer where you just get lost in the imagery of her words). The book is about thanksgiving, "eucharisto," and how we can meet God in every moment of our days when we seek the beauty of His gift in that moment with a heart overflowing in thanksgiving, and in the midst of this thanksgiving, slowing the current of time as we reach out to our God who is bound by no limits/no constraints, a God to whom time is irrelevant.

Inspired by Ann (yes, we are on a first name basis or in my mind we are), I have been attempting to do this, this "study" or awakening to His gifts through my own outpouring of thanksgiving. Key word: Attempting. Much of the time, I have been saying them out loud, letting them sink in, feeling them warm my soul.

And, since I have been enjoying it so much, I wanted my kids to experience something similar. They have been throwing in their thanksgivings at times when I speak mine aloud, but I also thought it was a brilliant idea to cultivate a thankful spirit/ combat their level of whininess for me to ask them to tell me something they are thankful for whenever I heard them whine/ complain. This had been all well in good the past week until this morning when all the forces of whininess/ complaining/ tantrum came to the forefront over the breakfast table. Here I was asking them to tell me something they were thankful for, and all I could think was, "It is way to early for this, I haven't had my coffee, I am going to pull all my hair out, or my brain might explode." How self-righteous is that! Here I was trying to teach my children one thing, and I wasn't getting down in the dirt of that moment doing it along with them-thanksgiving, "eucharisto," in NO MATTER WHAT THE MOMENT HOLDS!

So, I have decided to combat the whininess battle, that is my own whininess, with a list of ten reasons why I am thankful for my childrens' whining:

1-I am blessed to have three children, three children I prayed for, three children I can't get enough of, and if they are whining/ falling out in a tantrum, they are breathing and alive.

2-Not only are they alive, but they also must be very strong considering the sound decibels their voices create. I am thankful for their strength, health, and their voice.

3-There is noise in my house. I am thankful for that noise, and I will miss that noise one day.

4-That noise sounds like a symphony to our God. I am thankful that we have a God that is bound by no limits, that is so omniscient, omnipotent, and loving He is able to listen to all the noises throughout the earth at the same time, reading every thought and be completely full, open for each person in their moment, not just a piece of Him, ALL of Him, FULL.

5-I am thankful that my own kids are further along then I am in the whininess battle, judging from my nickname being "the whiner" as I was affectionately called by my brother and my dad in my younger years.

6-I am thankful that even though I am obviously not meeting all my kids needs or else there would be no whining/ tantrums, God has a perfect plan for them/ me and will always meet our real needs when we ask.

7-I am thankful for the humility it brings me and God's grace for that moment, for the cross we can go to.

8-I am thankful that so often when one of my children is upset the others are trying to comfort him/ her. I am thankful for sibling love, for the recognition of that bond in these moments, and how God uses these moments to make that bond that much tighter and stronger between them. Water has the ability to make rope knots tighter; my children's tears can somehow make their bond that much tighter.

9-I am thankful that Bruce's red curls seem to get that much curlier and tighter when the anger of a tantrum appears, and oh, how I really just love his hair!

10-And, most importantly I am thankful that the moment does pass!! and, so often it passes just as quickly as it appeared. I am thankful for the amazing range of moments we are given, how no two are alike, and how all of our moments in all their intricacies and feelings are somehow beautifully woven together. Our God is an Awesome God!

**I am adding this quote from Voskamp that I read earlier this morning (two days after I wrote this blog) "The parent must always self-parent first, self-preach, because who can bring peace unless they've held their own peace? Christ incarnated in the parent is the only hope of incarnating Christ in the child..."

And, then she quotes Caussade,

"You would be very ashamed if you knew what the experiences you call setbacks, upheavels, pointless disturbances, and tedious annoyances really are. You would realize that your complaints about them are nothing more nor less than blasphemies-though that never occurs to you. Nothing happens to you except by the will of God, and yet (God's) beloved children curse it because they do not know what it is."

POINT TAKEN!

Superhero Redfined

Uncle Dabid (as Whitt calls him) has always been somewhat of a superhero to Whitt. David is just one of those really cool Lance Armstrong type athelete, super outdoorsy (not sure if that is a word), garderner, naturalist, easygoing, always has a smile on his face, and always ready to play with our kids kind-of-guy that any little dude would LOVE! And, the rest of us think he is pretty cool as well.

But, for all these endearing traits, it was David's actions over the past weekend that elevated him to superhero status in Whitt's eyes. Katie and David's house (I think attic and chimney) had turned into a little housing community for a bat family who I assume multiplied at the speed of light because as of last night David had helped 51 (yes, I said 51) bats move out of their house to find a new place of residence, spreading their bat shreeking joy elsewhere. Evidently, bats are to Richmond what rats are to east Memphis. Let's be honest they are basically the exact same thing, one just flies. When I told Whitt about it, he said...

"Wow, I bet uncle David used 50 cages to catch all of them, and I bet he wrestled them into the cages with his BARE hands!!! You know he is pretty strong!"

So, here's to our real life Batman and one cool uncle!

And, here's a little video of one of the babies-yuck! I know all of God's creations reveal some form of beauty, but I prefer the bat drawings of Stellaluna versus up close and personal when contemplating the transcending uniqueness of bats.

Funny, how after I got over the shreeking of the baby, just hearing the squeals/ laughter of my sweet sister-in-law in the video made me completely crack up, made me completely miss her, and made me completely want time with her even if a bat baby is involved.

We will ROCK you!

Here's to all the amazing moms I know that ROCK!

And, here's to the little blessings that ROCKED and continue to ROCK our world! The highs are HIGH; the lows are LOW. We will always only be as happy as our least happy child.....

But, How sweet it is to be loved by them! And, How much we, with our whole being, love them!

Mother Teresa said "We can do not great things, only small things with great love. It is not how much you do but how much love you put into doing it." To me, that is the definition of motherhood, but those small things with great love do end up being the great things to the most important eyes and hearts in the world, our children's.

I love you, ladies!

Versatility

I absolutely love that my girl can go from playing with this.....

to easily playing army fort and soldiers with her brothers. Quite a girl!

PS-I don't know why, but every time I look at how Mae has Rupunzel hanging, I absolutely crack up!

The Magic of a Third Grade Craft

Today, I watched a really cool 3rd grade craft demonstration. They fastened a white handkerchief over a solo cup with a rubberband; they then drew dots of different color sharpie markers all over the top making a pretty ugly mess; after that they dropped a couple of drops of clear rubbing alcohol over the marks, and the ugly mess transformed into a beautiful kaliedoscope of colors. All the harsh sharp edges and dark colors of the markers morphed into a beautiful, undulating tie-dyed creation where soft shades and hues seemlessly ebbed and flowed into and out of one another.

Since Bruce has been born, I have had to really lean in, cling to, and trust Romans 8:28. You see (and, I say this very gratefully) I am not the same parent for Bruce's babyhood that I was for Mae and Whitt's. I am more confident in my walk with Him. I have learned to turn more and more over to him, believing in/clinging to his promises, and through this continued process, my parenting has been reshaped with more of His grace flowing out. But, as I praise Him for his work in me, there is the sneaking regret that finds its way through the back door of my heart.

Then today I started thinking about how much I have loved watching Whitt over the past week and half. In one Saturday I watched as our little man joined us for a breakfast with the Youth Leadership boys at 7:00 am helping us with his baby brother, talking with the older boys, and only needing us a couple of times as we fixed breakfast and visited. An hour later, he was helping his brother fill his basket with eggs at a hunt, and he finished the day by working the yards with his daddy and the boys from noon until 5:30 (he even got to use the leaf blower). The next night his baby brother moved into the room with him and into a big boy bed, and Whitt eagerly taught him the ropes, leading the way through two stormy nights with no power. He really is turning into a little man.

Suddenly, the image was so clear to me of how God with His love and grace is the element that bleeds through all those ugly marks/ mistakes I have made and uses them to shape my boy into His kaliedoscope for His light to shine through, and although I know I have plenty of "I'm sorrys" in my future, right now as I look at the beautiful character growing in Whitt, all my regret is flushed out by overflowing thanksgiving, relief, and an even deeper longing to grow closer to my God.

PS-Growing into a little man can be some tiring work! Check out the video-I found our little guy passed out in the dining room floor, snoring away with his "transperformer". I guess a little man who says he no longer needs a nap, just might every once in awhile : )

Postcards from the Edge

I have felt an increased "edginess" this past week. Over the past few years, I have come to realize that when this feeling starts creeping into my soul God is trying to teach me, mold me, and expand my heart. He was using a certain situation in my life recently to spew out the "vinegar" that was sitting in me so that more of the Spirit's annointed "oil"/love could fill me up (ok, I am a visual learner). It was a stronghold I thought I had defeated and was keeping in check. I described my "edginess" as being brought to the brink of former sin by way of temptation and the emotional uneasiness that results from that temptation. I had "labelled" it, I had journaled about it, I had dissected it, I had prayed to see my sin more clearly, I had meditated on scripture, on and on and on.

Then, this morning as I asked Mae and Whitt to come brush their teeth for the fifth time (feeling like I was in the movie Groundhog Day) I was quick to remind them that I should only have to ask once, and as the words slipped out of my mouth, God whispered to my heart I remind you all the time, I never get tired or frustrated and I never stop, come to me.

You see really what I thought was being taken to the "edge" of an old sin pattern was my recurring sin cropping up again (thanks to a friend who lovingly made this apparent to me), and as I was getting caught up in all the "I"s of being self-aware, trying to dig so deep, essentially trying to be my own healer, I was missing the sweet simplicity of God's grace. As my mind spiraled out of control going back to the situation over and over again, Jesus was moving further and further from my focus to my peripheral vision. Simply, I wasn't taking my sin to the cross, laying it down, letting Jesus do his beautiful work of intercession, and this morning when I did the "edginess" very gratefully disappeared.

It amazes me how that crushing weight on your soul and that separation affects you both emotionally and physically. The past few days I have been more tired and weary than I have been in a long time, and to make His victory this morning that much sweeter, I was given the opportunity to take a nice long run in the bright sunshine. I praise Him that I am not the person I was yesterday, and I praise Him that I am not the person today that I will be tomorrow. I praise Him that for the moment this time has passed, and I praise Him that it will most certainly come again as He continues what he started. I praise Him for the people in my life who love me through my "edginess." With hope in my heart, I am very thankful to be His work in progress.

****"If we claim that we're free of sin, we're only fooling ourselves. A claim like that is errant nonsence. On the other hand, if we admit our sins-make a clean breast of them-he won't let us down; he'll be true to himself" 1 John 1:8, The Message ****"My dear children, let's not just talk about love; let's practice real love. This is the only way we'll know we're living truly, living in God's reality. It's also the way to shut down debilitating self-criticism, even when there is something to it." 1 John 3:18, 19, The Message Ok, a little sidenote: as I was typing this, I hit something accidently that made the font for "the sweet simplicity of God's grace" different from the rest of the words, and I couldn't figure out how to correct it. You think God's trying to make a point to me, he is even using highlighting!?!

0.01%

Love these people! I think it says alot that after seven full days together I still could have used more time with them (hopefully the feeling was mutual). Notice: I am in a daydreaming Ginger Lemongrass Margarita haze which is why I am the ONLY one not looking at the camera. Yes, I said Ginger Lemongrass Margarita. It even had a little piece of candied ginger on a stick in it-AMAZING!

Love me some Maui!

I got a quick soulful look, then

back to a hundred miles per hour!

View from the pool to the beach, not to shabby!

Sweet little back and fingertips

At the top of the volcano, Michael put this picture on facebook with 10,063 feet above sea level underneath. He totally made it look like I had hiked up the side of this sucker. The reality is we drove the sixteen miles up the side, and hiked the last thirty feet. I got a good man, always trying to make me look impressive.

Sunsets like this every night, and just to make my running friends jealous, there was a beautiful three mile beach front run in front of all the hotels. It undulated over all the little cliffs and looked out over the ocean. It was amazing at sunrise! I am kind of schizophrenic when it comes to the music I listen to while running, everything from rap (I even have an Eminem song on there), to country like Wagon Wheel, to bluegrass, to 80's, to Rock, and of course, my praise music. Right now, I am really into Matt Maher's song, "Come Awake," and I can't imagine a more perfect way to listen to it than running along the ocean at sunrise during the beginning of lenten season.

"Wake up, O sleeper,

rise from the dead,

and Christ will shine on you."

Ephesions 5:14

Oh, and just to rub the salt in the wound a little more. It was whale season, and you could catch a glimpse of them every so often.

B, in only the way B can, OWNED the baby pool!

Mae taking photography lessons from Grandaddy.

Doesn't this picture look a little bit like the Housewives of Orange Beach, with the fountain in the background and the wind blowing our hair!?!

There is no way a blog or photos could capture how incredible, amazing, awesome, beautiful, stupendous, outrageous, lovely, happy, peaceful, and energetic this trip was. I was only able to capture about 0.01% of how special it was to me in this little entry.

Thank you GaGa and Grandaddy for making it all possible and more importantly for just being exactly who you are. You mean the world to us, Happy 60th!