A place for everything, and everything in it's place

Being a parent is not easy. It's a huge blessing, and I love being a mom. But it's a hard job. And I don't always know how to go about it. At least 100 times a day I get barraged with questions, such as:

"Can I play video games?"

"Can I watch tv, or a movie?"

"Can I have a snack?"

"Can I have a friend over?"

"Can I skip school?"

"Can I go here...or there?"

"Can I buy that movie, that game?"

Often, my first answer is "I don't know" or "maybe" or "later", because I'm trying to buy time so I can think about my real answer. And often what happens is the question is asked enough times that I say yes just to make the question go away. The squeaky wheel gets the oil. Except, I'm often left dissatisfied with the outcome. And mostly because I know it's a double mindedness I'm dealing with. I second guess my instincts and get blown around by the gales that blow when I half-heartedly say "no." The kids know when I don't really mean it.

After some discussion with Ken, I decided to just say no to video games. Not because they are bad. But because I think there will be more peace in our house if I do. And I meant it. And the kids know it. And the gales turned into breezes--no begging, crying or fits. The certainty with which I made my decision left no room for argument. And there was peace today. The kids played with each other and entertained themselves, or their younger siblings. Instruments were played, school work was done, conversations were enjoyed.

And so I am thinking about the lack of structure in my life-and consequently, in my kids lives.

Because sometimes it's questions like

"Where does this go?"

"Where are my socks...underwear...pajamas...shoes?"

"Where is the bathroom cleaner..snow shovel...ice scraper?"

"What are my chores today?"

A place for everything, and everything in it's place.

I'd like to say that at 39 years old, that's my motto. But it's not. I tend to gravitate toward what's easy at the moment. I have a hard time sticking to routines. But I want to try to be a bit more routine, more structured. So that when I get asked, "Can I watch tv?", I can point to the structure, the rule, and say "no" or "yes" with certainty--lest I get blown about by the winds of doubt and uncertainty. So that when we walk in the house everyone knows where to put their shoes so they know where to find their shoes later.

It's a management issue. Things have gotten a bit loosey- goosey around here. I'm ready to start writing down some ideas for routines and structure that will help.

But first, one more question.

"Where can I find a pen?"

:>)

Homeschool snow day!

The snow really is quite beautiful as it falls.

At least 12" of heavy, wet snow. A friend in a tractor kept the shoveling down to a minimum.

So they had time to play king of the mountain.

And cuddle up to watch movies and eat popcorn.

She washed it down with some fresh, cold snow.

The snow has been fun. But I think we've all had our fill. Spring is more than welcome to pop in any day now!

I know the mice would appreciate it. One went from door to door here on our porch looking for someplace warm to spend the night. Can you see the tiny footprints?

A walk through the cemetery

As I watched the kids run off through the cemetery to the hill in back, I cringed a little. The juxtaposition of life over death was startling, and I hoped it wasn't disrespectful. I comforted myself with the thought that most of the people who had been buried there would approve, had they been aware.

Cemeteries are a thoughtful place. I walked a bit to read the names and dates on each headstone, and couldn't help but wonder what the stories were behind the names. Must be my age, with 40 just around the bend, causing my mind to wonder about my own end, the end of those I love. I confess it has caused occasional panic. Not that I'm afraid of death, mind you. It's the dying part that scares me a bit. And the unknown of when. And if, at the end of my life, it will be good enough to say that I loved God, loved my husband, loved my children, loved my neighbor....and then her headstone. Her name was Ann. She died in 1873. She was 16 years, 6 months and 18 days old. They counted her every last day. Like they all mattered. As if to honor every moment that she lived. Which includes the days she swept the floors or cared for younger siblings or milked the cow or washed the laundry or studied her algebra. Epiphany! Every day counts, every day should be counted as an opportunity to be remembered. And so I record and number the gifts- the great Love Dare-and try to be a gift to those around me. Loving God, loving my neighbor. And I think in the end that will be enough, perhaps warranting a "well done". Because honestly, my life is full with laundry and making milk and shepherding children and sweeping floors, and it all can seem a bit pointless. No trips round the world for me these days. No greatness beyond a cup of cold water for the least of these. But if every day matters, is worthy of being counted, then these days matter. And somehow that makes everything seem easier. These days are not to be gotten through so real life can begin. This is the real life! My kids ask me each morning, "What are we doing today?" And most days I laugh and say, "We're doing it!" There it is. I'm doing it. Life. And it matters, and will hopefully be worthy of counting each day when I'm gone.

About 100 years from now.

;0)

Sweet moments

Some moments are sweet like this...

lazy and cuddly and everyone getting along.

Meaningful conversations

and hearts unfolding happen in the unhurried. When I sit long enough in one spot, they gather round and I listen...and talk..and listen....

Connections are made, though there be 16 years between birth-days.

Time. Loving one another. Getting and staying connected. Smiling. Laughing. Focusing on what we like about each other.

Some moments are like this.

February's hush

The hushed quiet of February's fields blanketed in white draws me out, and in. I am thankful for the children and the liveliness with which they live life, but there are days, moments, when I crave some quiet. Time to think, pray, be.....

As I venture into knee deep white, I reflect on the seeds newly sprouting in my heart, in my soul.

An awakening.

Something new stirring, promising joy I've not known in the things this world has to offer. I'm thanking God for the moments, the gifts, He offers to those whose eyes are disciplined to see. A challenge to count to 1000, and beyond, has me with pen in hand. Gratitude is what I named this new year, and in many ways God confirms to me that, Yes, it is his voice I've heard through friends, through His word, through the words of others.

I am thankful for these blankets of snow, and the hush that settles with flakes where they fall.

My soul is quieted.

My eyes are open.

I turn the knob, and step back in.

Reaching up, reaching out

There are probably 101 possible explanations for why, on a sunny day last October my heart started fluttering like I was next in line for the spelling bee, and I was unable to fall asleep though my body was utterly exhausted and my mind was longing for the sweet nothing of slumber. I've wondered a thousand times where the anxiety came from, and why I suddenly felt so utterly overwhelmed by life, and the fear of death. For two months there was darkness. despair. sleeplessness. fear. I clung to God during those days when time seemed to stand still. When I watched the clock go from 3:23 am, to 3:24 am, 3;25 am.....He was my strong tower, though there were times when I wondered if He was with me. If maybe I was losing my mind. If I would ever feel happiness again. His Word was truly a lamp to my feet and light to my path as I blindly tried to find my way out of the tunnel, and sometimes I would find my way by following Ken's voice as he prayed and spoke comforting words through the darkest times of night. I found strength in knowing the people who love me were praying, sometimes through the night as they found themselves awake to care for little ones. It was one of the hardest things I've ever gone through. And I still don't understand why it happened. But I found out last Thursday that God can use that valley in my life for His glory. As I sat with a mom, about my age, at a petting zoo in Florida, who described to the smallest detail the hell she was living. The darkness. despair. sleeplessness. fear. And I could say there was hope. It will end. She'll get through it. She's not losing her mind. And that God helped me. He can help her, too. She was uncomfortable then, and our conversation ended abruptly. But as she walked away she told me she had such peace after our conversation. And I told her I would pray for her. And I have. And I will. And I believe God will reach down His saving Hand, the Hand that is not too short, and pull her out of the darkness, and she will know it is Him who saves. Is that the reason I went through such darkness of soul? So I could one day sit across from a 39 year old mom of 5 and say, "You're going to make it, and this is how I know?" I don't know the answer to that. What I do know is, our lives are not our own. They are His. And we go through things we may not ever understand. But as we gain ground and firm footing on these jagged slopes of life, we can turn and stretch a hand to another who could use some help. Some grace. Some love.

Isn't that something? God brought me all the way to Kissimmee, Florida to talk heart to heart with a dear woman named Molly. If you think of it, would you say a prayer for her today?

The word for 2011

In our house, building with Legos is a contact sport. Dinner can be a three ring circus, or a variety show, depending on the mood of the performers. And bedtime is an extravaganza of stories and guys and music and song and water and more water and "can you sit with me for a few minutes more?" Laundry piles waist high, dishes up to the elbows, and let's not even mention the hand prints, nose prints and tongue(!) prints on the windows! Most mornings start with warm snuggles in our bed, which inevitably ends in wild wrestling and possibly tears. Constant motion. High emotion. Active minds. Passionate hearts. Life is a whirlwind of babies and young men and all the in between and coming and going and meals and books and music and dreams and plans and work and friends and church and.....sometimes I'm overwhelmed. But today I'm taking a step closer to grateful.

Grateful.

Thankful.

For a husband who's a friend and can laugh along with me

For healthy kids who are strong enough to tackle each other, and, apparently, lick the windows...

For the house which is the home where food is plenty and dishes to the elbow mean we eat well

For dreams that have been dreamed, and the ones still yet to be

For passion that fuels vision

For books and plans and work and church

For friends and sisters who share their journey

I've picked a word to mark this year, inspired by this.

Gratitude.

I'm trying it on. Right now it's a bit long in the sleeves. I confess I've not been too liberal with my thanking. Here's to a new year marked with a long list of Thank yous to the One who gives me hope. This verse has been a lifeline through many of the trials in my life. But I don't think I ever paid enough attention to the words in bold...til now.

"Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done. Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus." Phillipians 4:6-7