magic

i don't know what the difference is.
i really don't.

some days i have eyes to see it.
some days i don't.

i don't know why the "some days" is true.
but it just is.

it's always there just the same.
whether i see it or not.
still there. still true.

my home is filled with it:

magic.



pure magic, i tell you.



i watched my eldest outside today. talking to himself as he took huge licks off the snow chunk in his mittened hands. he ran at, then tumbled over, the recently built snow fort in the front yard.

he leaned over to ask me questions about math as i made some chocolate chip scones this morning.

magic.



my daughter's curls were perfectly arranged on her flowery pillow today as she told me her plans for her calico critters. big plans, friends. i tried to listen well as i examined the freckles forming on the bridge of her nose. pure sweetness. and, you guessed it-- magic.



that baby. oh goodness. a pile of smiley mischief. he was so fascinated today by the way items disappeared if he shoved them hard enough under the crack of the door to the basement. old phones. scone pieces- you name it. joy and delight all over his face.



i know i've written about it many times before. but the fight for good remains.
the fight to see the good.
in the midst of piles and piles and piles of yuck.

He is still here.
He is real.
and His gifts are good. they come from Him.

the Father of lights. with Whom there is no shadow.
or variation due to change.
good. perfect. gifts.

and so i'm documenting some of them. to remind myself.
good magic-gifts.

bike riding.

hi there.



i know. i know. been awhile. but let's pretend it hasn't.





hi. again.



do you remember biking? when you were a kid? oh man, my sisters and i cruised our neighborhood like we owned the place. actually, pretty seriously, convinced that we were a posse with some authority. if you could pick up enough speed-- if the wind in your ears was so loud you couldn't hear someone yelling at you as you whizzed past-- you had certainly earned some pride. some neighborhood clout.

the days have all piled on top of each other. sometimes it really feels like those sun-filled bike riding mornings were yesterday. maybe 3 years ago. maybe.

but then i walk out my kitchen door.
i see my kids just starting out on their bikes.
my kids. my own babies. so excited about this new freedom. their very own vehicle.





it has been such a little gift to watch them try. to fall. to try again.

to concentrate. to succeed.





then to watch them be sweet siblings. oh how sweet they are. a lot of the time.

it has me thinking about my own bike-filled childhood. and then all those heavy-joys involved in parenting. days passing. inches gaining. legs no longer fitting in my lap. things like this.

heavy-joys.



i would not be the first or the last to examine the scale of passing time. the days are sweet. very sweet. each one passes and builds on itself. i see myself-- blond pigtails zooming down the black pavement on my blue banana-seated bike.

and then i'm here. now. watching my own babies grip those handle bars. delight in the wind. steady the front tire as they head into the grass.

truly weighted-joy. that kind that brings tears. a jumbled mix of joy and grief.

oh it's a beautiful life, friends.

birthdays

i was just here:



like-- JUST. how many weeks ago? a few, right? but not that many, surely.





and then just like that, we've gone from this:



to this:



a birthday. a whole year. 52 whole weeks. you all know-- it's a blink. and yet, it's hard to remember life before those 52 weeks began.



the birthday was nice. a good celebration. but i found my own heart torn.

i got to lunch time and wondered. "hm. why on earth am i so crabby? where's the celebration, joanna? what's going on in there?"



and when i looked a bit deeper, i found some sadness. some loss. some mourning.



we've moved past paper-thin fingernails. past cuddles and nursing at 2 a.m. and beyond the days where i could set him on the bed and walk away. we're here now:



a fabulous place. i know. a truly fantastic place. but as i said goodbye to my very last baby year... i had trouble. just a little bit.



we'll be fine. we started animal sounds this week. he's walking while holding on to my hands with his little chubby fingers. taking those sideways steps that seem like they won't ever straighten into independent mobility. he says "bye-bye" in this sweet whisper-y voice. does a full palm-in-his-mouth kiss-blow. so many fantastic things.

the goodbye is never easy. it just isn't. this mysterious pull of good and sad all rolled up in a birthday. i should be used to it by now.

but i am confident.

we'll be just fine.

the choice.

the boy is in the bathroom. you, know... in the bathroom with that lovely kind of "in the bathroom" sickness. the baby is crying at my feet. the daughter trips over the guitar and says her stomach hurts. i'm trying to talk to jason-- my partner, my bestie-- about the day. i'm supposed to get groceries. i can't do that. we're supposed to be at someone's home for dinner. can't do that? right? we briefly discuss over the noise, he shoots me an encouraging smile, and then- do you know what happens? he leaves. he <does what he is supposed to do and> walks out the door. he goes to work.

i'm left standing in the kitchen.

the clamor remains with me. right beside me.

and i find myself faced with a very important decision.

how is this whole situation going to play out today? what will this day be like (feel free to break into The Sound of Music-- it's appropriate)?

what kind of mamma is going to show up for these kiddos?



i stood and thought. stood for a minute more. thought some more. (still mayhem behind me, friends. mayhem.)

________

it feels so easy to take pictures of these cuties:







but in moments like this morning, all i tend to see is myself. what i need. what i want. what i prefer. what looks nicer-better-easier.

and these faces still surround my ankles, knees and side.



do i truly hold to the hope that i say is true?
hope, not just for the miraculous gift of salvation, but hope for days like this? reasons and purposes for the challenges facing me in that kitchen this morning?

today i could run my hands over my face, take a deep breath, look to the heavens and remember.
it's true. what He says is true.

i have hope that never fades or fails.

so we stayed home today. we opened the windows and felt the breeze. there was book reading and knitting. there were still moments of frustration and sin-- don't think they all went away.

but He helped me see the truth this morning.

this mamma gig is no joke. never have i seen the ugliness of my heart more plainly. it's nasty in there. i'm thankful He is patiently reminding me. helping me stay at His feet.

i'm sure days like today will come again-- sooner than i would like. i hope i'm able to make the same choice as today. to settle in to what HE has for me-- to not fight, kick, and yell for what I want for MY day.

one last thing: so thankful that even on days when i make the utterly wrong choice... He remains faithful. remains loving. remains to help. and gives me more days.

He's so good to us.

oh these kids

they are a delight. a joy to observe. i love joining them on adventures, sitting quietly for tea parties, answering wondering questions. all of it.



i do. i love all of it. and why do i miss out on it so often?



because of my own perspective/stubbornness/attitude, etc.



now there are going to be days where i need to be me. just me. a little space from the house, the parenting, the constantly being needed. and i think that's completely okay.

but i'm missing good things right in front of me sometimes. things i could enjoy. things we could enjoy. instead, i stick my feet deeper in the mud i'm in and declare that i'm not moving. not surrendering to a Spirit Who brings better.



i know that my Savior has given good gifts. i want to have my eyes open to them. i want to be moved. do i really enjoy standing firm in my muck of crabby? yeah, no. but in the moment i so often feel it is the only option. everything outside of myself needs to change. the problem could not possibly rest in my clenched fists and slanted eyes.



i know He has more. i know He will help me in the surrender. in the giving of the days and the moments- my heart and my attitude.

so glad He takes it all and does such better work with it all.

happy monday, friends. welcome to more good.

photo credit for this post: Mindy Bursch

cowgirl

this past saturday included a birthday party. for a little newly-four year old we know and love. it was a cowgirl birthday party. oh yes. 

with a pony.

kate and i got into the car on saturday morning, all cowgirl-ed up, and drove to the party. and i know i only have 2 kids. a lot of mommas out there have several more babies to keep up with than i do. but sitting with just her and hearing her talk and sing and ask me questions, i thought about how often i get to do that. to really sit and hear from just her. 

now, i do not want to load up another to-do onto to our (more than likely) already guilt-ladden momma plate. but i will say that i would like more. more time with this little cowgirl. and i think i'll try to keep my eyes open for more chances. more adventure for the two of us. she's full of so much. i want to get to know as much of it as i can. 

being the Spirit

i saw him looking at me in the rearview mirror. his face somewhere between almost-tears and anger. "but that's not fair," he declared.

i had been informing him of the consequence due him after the morning's... episode. and after his not-fair declaration, i tried to get him to the root of it. get him to admit his guilt. to see his wrong. but he wanted none of it.

a few days later i was talking to my mom, telling her this story. and she reminded me that i'm not the Holy Spirit. i cannot force him to see his wrong. but He can.

so i will keep praying.

He has so kindly been reminding me more and more recently to pray for the hearts living under this roof of ours. bringing them to mind often and laying specific things on my heart. i'm so thankful that He is giving me eyes to see. the good and the ugly of these kids. His kids.

He makes good ones.

patience

my little man has become just a little obsessed with LEGOs. and he is also a rule-follower. he now has almost every piece of a certain space-themed set of LEGOs. but he's missing one piece. a box of LEGOs that costs about $70. he saw it at Barnes and Noble the other night and was near tears as he discovered he was not, actually, going to walk out of the store with it. maybe we go the library too much. he seems to think a lot of stuff is free.

so jason and i took him home and started talking about what Christmas money he'd been given and how much of that we'd let him spend on that item, if he wanted. but the rest of the money, he'd have to work for.

this did not appeal to him. jason said, "but, buddy, this will be a great way for you to learn to have patience."

response: "i don't want patience. i want the LEGOs."

yup. i feel ya, son.

see... i want a camera. a new camera. a fancy-pants camera. a pretty pretty camera.

and i'm not very patient about it at all. pretty grouchy and selfish, most of the time.

so.

my son started working around the house to earn money for his LEGOs.

and i made a little bank for myself. yes, i did.

so what if, right now, it contains about 3% of the total cost of said fancy-pants camera? my son and i can learn some patience together.

the princess

i know i've written about this little one before.

and her princess tendencies.

well recently i tried on a floor length red dress that i've had for years. just to see if it fit. and it did! i was elated. and i showed it to my princess-y daughter. i asked, "what do you think of mommy's beautiful dress?"

she looked me up and down with squinty eyes and said, "no."

then immediately went to her closet to find a rival dress. then crumpled into a puddle on the floor as each dress she tried on did not reach to the floor. "it doesn't work!!!" she cried.

jason and i stood by and laughed. and wanted to cry. both.

her little heart went so quickly to jealousy and envy. it was the first place she went.

oh my darling. you've got a long road ahead.

and maybe i shouldn't have, but after she'd calmed down, i pulled some old silk out of my fabric stash. wrapped it around her tiny slippery-soft little body, and tied a small belt.

she was pleased.

as we parent day to day, it's so good to get a view into the hearts of your babies. sometimes i don't look, the day rushes by with books, meals and cleaning without me seeing anything God might be doing or revealing in their hearts. my daughter isn't quiet about many things. and her heart was loudly obvious as she glared at me and my dress. and i am thankful for that view into what really is going on behind those smiles and curls.

and now to pray for wisdom. so glad He doesn't leave us alone to try to work His good in our children by ourselves. so glad this beautiful girl is His first. ours second.

oh she's so much fun.