good days.

oh you guys. i know. it has been a month. wow.



i often have half-thoughts that fill my head. and that has been very true these past weeks. ideas rattling around in there that don't quite make sense yet. thoughts about sorrow and the joy and weight of burdens shared, this mom-gig and how rough and awesome it can be. the list goes on. a jumble of thoughts. a mix-up of easy/hard, light/heavy, and all that's in-between.



it really is the way it goes, isn't it?





our days, lives, minds reach into so many things.



maybe that's one of the joys of writing in a space like this-- i more regularly sit and try to sift through all of it. the photos of the days. the rememberings of the realities, and the half-thoughts come back. ask to be finished.

oh these days are surprising, aren't they? so consistently filled with so much.





i was at something in the evening a couple of days ago where i chatted with a few people. each person asked me how my day had been. each time the question was asked, i paused. i know they wanted a genuine answer. but i didn't know how to give it.

the day had been full of, what felt like, every emotion under the sun. i handled some things with my kids well, some things really badly. i surrendered the matters of my heart to God, and also clung to them with my grimy fingers. i thought of friends and heavy matters- i felt a heavy hopelessness. i also thought of them and remembered His great love and abounding provision.

each day ends up being a mishmash. a collective of so much.



so, the answer i gave them was: "good. it was a good day."

and, i suppose, aren't they all?

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.

remembering

often, when i think of my kiddos and the time that has passed, i try to bring up some images in my mind of those tiny days. pictures like these seem to quickly come into my mental view:



(my samuel)



(my girl)





(the newest)

and while i love these pictures-- they all capture such sweetness, newness-- they fall short. i usually try to push images like these to the side-- try to dig deep and find some memories. real memories of moments. little moments with little people.

late nights in rocking chairs. outside explorations. walking and soothing.

while i'm not very good at seeing their faces in these memories just as they were, i can remember the feelings of those moments. the weight of the air and the colors around me. the thoughts of my heart.

and the memory is what i want. those little moments that were just mine. they hit my heart and settled in. i want them to be permanent. to remain.

i'm finding that i need to bring these memories to the surface regularly. otherwise, in the jumble of this crazy brain of mine, they will be lost. this discipline is worth it. i want to try- to add some concrete footing to these memories.

i know that all mamas have to watch their babies grow. have to say goodbye to days passed and embrace new stages. i know there is good to be found around each new bend.

i want to remember the old road, though. move forward with my lovely children-- in joy.

with just a few tiny-handed memories in my trunk.

a saturday

what a nice saturday we had. didn't go quite like i had thought it might (which usually spells trouble for this heart of mine). what a rest-filled day we had. perfect.



a lazy morning with pj's. and a sick little girl.



(lest you end up thinking our day overly idyllic, i will tell you that moments after she ate a few bites of that oatmeal... you know... we saw it again...)

with the now totally open schedule, i felt like making something.



so samuel and i set to making some challah. we've been reading a book series rich in Jewish culture (All of a Kind Family) and samuel was excited to make something "mama made".





it's one of those lovely breads that requires 3 rises and sends a beautiful yeasty smell through the house. bread making sets such a nice pace to the day. well, it can. and it did on saturday.

between bread maintenance, we rested a lot.



made messes.



and did nothing. then did more of nothing.



oh friends, why don't i have more days like this? we had a sabbath day. a day of rest. it was what we needed. sometimes, i think, God uses the sicknesses in our lives to give us the sabbath we've been neglecting.

this saturday offered us so many lovely moments. cuddles with a fevered girl. books read aloud and bread in the oven.

space to stop and see things. trees swaying with the wind. a finch at the feeder. sunshine on the table.



it was a special gift. a little present. and i suppose this is my thank you note.

catch up

well this girl had a birthday.





it was such a sweet day. full of princesses and crowns. lemonade and running outside barefoot. perfect.







and you all know how it is. these babies. and the growing up. each year adds so much. there's no stopping it. our only option is to savor and enjoy. because they start right about here:



you turn around maybe 3 times and you're here:



turn around a few more times (a switch in kids, for the sake of dramatic proof)



and they're jumping on gate slats and beating you in races. it's unbelievable.

i had a birthday myself yesterday and my sisters were here to celebrate. i can't remember the last time i had both of them sitting next to me for my birthday dinner. it was so very nice.



we went to Carl Sandburg's house for the day. the more i learn about that guy, the more i'm sure we would have been friends. his home has started to feel like home to me. we love it there.



another year of life for my miss and myself. hopeful for what it might bring. i think that as i get older, i make less plans. those expectations get me every time and leave so little room for enjoyment. and i hope that is what i can expect for the year-- more savoring. less hurrying. more stopping and seeing.



hopeful.

sorrow, prayer and community

today brought tragedy to a beautiful young family we know.

as i heard the news, my heart fell into my stomach. my phone dropped to the couch. 

i sat overwhelmed. overcome. 

and suddenly alone. 

i battled with myself wondering what was best. call someone? share with someone? i wasn't sure.

i called a friend. she didn't answer. 

i sat on the couch and stared. 

she called back. 

i shared the news with her and before i was even finished, i found i was praying.

crying out to the Maker of all things. the Creator of Good. One who hates evil. we cried out together. 

as i heard her voice echoing the same longing as the one in my heart:

come Jesus... come soon

as we mourned loss together, 

as we thanked our Father for receiving our anger, our grief, 

as we asked for wisdom, kindnesses to abound, for honesty, 

as i cried some more,

as i thanked Him for His promised return-- for letting us have that hope,

... i felt lifted.

i heard a good friend recently talk of prayer as a way to carry just a small piece of someone's sorrow. just a small piece. so one doesn't have to carry all of it alone. 

i hope we did that today. on the phone together. praying for a sister and brother. 

thankful for His hope. thankful for His family. thankful for what He does in the midst of us when we come together. 

life

things are plodding along over here. a lot of normal. regular. and all that that brings along with it.

samuel said to me this morning-- while still pj'd and sleepy-eyed, "the years go by fast. i wish they didn't."

oh, my boy. i agree.

i had a lovely kind mom and her teen over the other day. and i was reminded of those sneaky, quick years. reminded to cherish and enjoy. i'm not all that good at it most of the time. kind of a grass-is-greener pro over here. but i'm glad that the reminders keep coming. those lovely reminders to stop and say yes.

last week one of the kids was sad and was sitting in my lap. genuinely sad. and just wanting to sit in my lap for a few. and i found myself thinking of all the things i needed to get done. the emails, the dishes, the planning, etc. i'm so thankful that i remembered a post by a friend. and how she just sat. and so i did the same. 

hope your january is off to a good start. full of warm things-- all the warm things.