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.

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.

witnesses

my dear friend beth is leaving for haiti on tuesday. she'll be nursing the recovering and shining the light of Christ into the rubble of buildings, tents and lives. i got to join in prayer for her tonight and i was again reminded of community. as she goes, she has no guarantees that God will provide much physical spiritual family where she will be serving. and as i prayed, i was reminded of the cloud of witnesses that have gone before us, the Spirit of God (the actual Spirit of God!!) that lives within each of us, and the reality that as our brothers and sisters hold us up in prayer, remember us, hold us close, we are never alone. we are surrounded with God's great community. what an awesome, wonderful and magical thing He has made.

I've also been again about how much I need community. how it keeps me pressing on, keeps sharpening me and keeps me running to the truth. there are many days in my history where i would have chosen solitude and He gave me people. people to speak, to sit, to laugh and cry with. what good blessings He gives. without me knowing what i need, He provides.

__________________

i don't think i've allowed kate the same kinds of freedoms that i allowed samuel at this age. so i let her wash dishes today. oh she is my joyful handful.

just dripping with water and joy.