A helpful disaster

In our house we often take advantage of Saturday mornings and have a big breakfast.  We do the kind that takes lots of preparation and the extra time that we don't have on the other days of the week.  Last Saturday Timothy was off work and we went down to the kitchen.  I started the coffee.  Timothy started gathering the supplies to make pancakes.  I turned to my youngest child, "Hey! How about you come upstairs with Mama?  I'll help you get dressed."  He turned to me and smiled.  "Nope.  I'm going to stay here and help Papa make pancakes."

Anyone who has ever attempted a baking project with the "help" of someone who is small knows that it is actually just one giant disaster. Haphazard measurements with significant portions of the ingredients on the counter or the floor.  Flour everywhere.  Egg shells in your pancake batter.  Batter that somehow gets stirred up onto the cupboards.

But sometimes making pancakes isn't so much about making pancakes as it is about what we are learning in the process.  Besides making memories with his Papa, he is learning to crack eggs.  He is learning to stir, he is learning to clean up flour... (read: he is learning to use a wash cloth to spread flour around on the counter, the cupboard and the floor.  Another day I will discuss the oxymoronic concept of "cleaning" projects with people under the age of 8.)  If we never let the kids "help" with the cooking, they aren't going to learn.  If I go into this with "help" I need to acknowledge, "this is going to be messy... but it's going to be good.  We are learning and we are growing,"

All the odd shaped scarves that have been first knitting projects, and first sketches, and rough drafts... they all stand as monuments declaring that learning is a process and usually we don't do something well without hours and hours of practice.

In my finer parenting moments I can step back and appreciate all of what is happening.  My kids are learning and growing.  They are having experiences that are going to shape them.  I actually really like to be clean.  I like to have an organized house.  I like to be efficient.  Clean, Organized, Efficient.  Kids are rarely any of these things.

I like to do things well.  I like to work hard and go into things that I know that I can do well.  I don't really like to step into places where I think there is a good chance things might get messy or I'm likely to fail.  But, if I'm not willing to get messy, am I living into all the growth that God has planned for me?

Where my finer parenting moments fail, His abound.  I can stand on the edge of fear, and say, "I'm afraid to do this.  I don't think that I can move forward without making a huge mess."  But this is how we learn and grow.  I watched my "helping" kiddo and I suddenly had a realization. God is far less concerned about the messes I make than I am.  I'm not sure He really cares at all if we are clean, efficient and organized.  He cares that we are learning and growing and encouraging the people around us to do the same.

What if I stop living in fear of the mess and I welcome the learning that comes in the process?  Can I let go of my desire to control and walk freely into the learning that God has in store for me?

Are you standing on the edge of something really big?  Maybe God is calling you to come bake with Him.  If you listen closely you might hear Him say, "Hey kiddo.  I know you are about to make a mess.  That's okay.  I want you to work with me.  Stand on this stool.  Grab an egg.  It's kind of tricky.  Don't worry.  We eat pancakes with shells in them all the time."

Ripple Effects

This last week I had a very full week.  It was a good kind of full.  I have been working at the kids' school and I love being involved in the community there.  Besides working, I also was volunteering with an event through the school and the combination of all those hours had me at school every day all day.  By the time we got up on Saturday morning, the laundry pile was threatening to take over the house and some people were having to make big decisions about which pair of second rate underwear to put on for the day. I hadn't been to the grocery store and meal options were very limited.  I was getting frozen berries from the back of the freezer so that people could have fruit with their breakfast and I made a comment about how I needed to go to the grocery store because we were almost completely out of food.
My youngest looked at me and said, "Oh, it's okay Mama!  If we run out of food I can just tell my teacher that we don't have food.  She gives people food who don't have enough food.  Really she does!"
I know she does.  I have helped with this program.  At our school families can sign up to get some basic pantry items sent home every Friday.  The kids receive a loaf of bread and some sandwich making supplies along with some canned goods. I've been involved with helping to distribute the right numbers of these little food packages to the classrooms.
Sometimes I've wondered if any of the kids feel ashamed of taking food home from school.  I have wondered if they feel labeled.
But then a simple comment made me realize something.  Even though my kids don't receive a package of food every Friday, seeing this happen gives them something too.
My kids are seeing that we live in a community that takes care of its people.  Even though we aren't in danger of actually running out of food, my kiddo isn't afraid if we do, because the safety net of his community is wide and strong.

I think that grace, and forgiveness, accommodation, understanding and love work in much the same way.  Even though the package may be handed it one direction, it gives joy and hope and security to the community as a whole.  How are you feeding your community?

If you are feeling scared... tools of bravery for someone who is only 6

Earlier this week one of my children did not want to go to school.  She explained that she knew that they were going to have a substitute and she was really nervous about it.  We talked a little, and I tried to be reassuring, but when the morning came she was very anxious and started crying and begging me to let her stay home.

I sat down and looked into her distressed eyes.  "I know you are nervous.  But you know what?  The substitute might be nervous too.  He or she has never met your class before.  And you have 30 kids in your class, that's a lot of new people.  Even for a grown up."

She looked at me with slight disbelief.  I'm not sure that it had occurred to her that a grown up might get nervous.  "What do you think we could do to help the substitute?"  We talked for a while about some options and then we sat down and worked on a note.

This is what it said,

Dear Substitute Teacher,
I was really nervous to go to school today, because I've never met you before.  But then my mama said that you might be nervous too.  So I had an idea.  If you are feeling scared, just look at me and I will smile and give you a thumbs up.
I think we will both have a good day.
Luv, An Anxious-no-more Friend

(It actually read her real name)


With a new sense of purpose, she folded up the note into a small square, and she held it as we drove to school.  She held it as she skipped into her class.  (something that she has NEVER done before.) Then she cautiously handed it over to the nice young man who introduced himself as her substitute.

He read the note and smiled.  He thanked her for the note, and then he admitted to both of us in a way that appeared quite earnest, "Actually I am REALLY NERVOUS!!!"

Sometimes being brave is simply being honest about where you are, and having the courage to reach out to someone else in spite of your own feelings of anxiety.  I was so thankful for this outcome, and the beauty of two very different people from different walks of life aligning, out from under fear, because they knew they weren't alone.

When what you have to offer will barely make a dent, Dream Big.

Several months ago a couple of my kids wanted to go spend some of their hard earned spending money to purchase some small pieces of plastic personified food and housewares.  (It is a particular toy item that I will not choose to advertise here.) My husband learned of their plan and gave them an inspiring talk about not wasting money on that kind of thing.  He talked to them about saving it for something bigger, or more useful.  I listened with skepticism.  I didn't think his talk would have any effect on their desire to spend.

I was wrong.  Really wrong.  In fact, I'm a little sad that I didn't stick around to hear all of what he said.  All I know is that after a brief pep talk, two kids emerged from our room with a resolve to combine their resources and save for something "really big".  They talked for a while and they came to me, excited about their new plan.

"We are going to save our money for a trip to go to Bolivia.  How much does it cost to go to Bolivia?" (They have a beloved set of grandparents that live in Bolivia, and we often talk about going to visit them some day.)

I almost didn't want to answer, because I didn't want to discourage them, but I said, "Well, it will cost about $2000."

Without stopping to truly absorb what I had just said, the oldest child calculated out loud.  "Okay, so if we both go, that's $4000, and we should take at least one grown up with us, so that's $6000.  And right now with all of our money together we have $40.  So we just need another...  Five thousand, Nine hundred and ....  Sixty dollars."

I nodded.  "Yep, that's all.  Except if you two save up four thousand dollars to go to Bolivia, Mama or Papa will pay our own way."  It was really the least I could offer.

In that moment, I realized something.  I am easily overwhelmed or deterred when the task in front of me is larger than the resources that I personally have access to.  Broken down buildings that I can't fix, or amounts of money that sum up to several hundred times over what I actually have to offer.  I quickly see it as beyond me.

But God invites us in to that place.  To offer our small into His Big and experience something that is beyond us.

Walk into that place.  If you are having trouble with that can I make a suggestion?

Connect yourself to a child.  They have too much faith to dream small dreams.

When I grow up I want to be like the Crossing Guard Lady.

After a very full summer, we are back into the routine that fall brings and I am going to try to pick back up on the blog.

About a week before school started, we found out that the girls got in to the school with a Spanish Immersion Program that is close to our house.  They were a little apprehensive about a new school, and not knowing anyone, but I reminded them several times that their new school had 2 recesses instead of 1 recess.  (I still speak the language of 'The Elementary School Student.')  

So there are a lot of things that I really like about our new school, but I have to tell you about one of my favorites. 

The Crossing Guard Lady.  I actually do know her name, but for the sake of anonymity, I will just refer to her as "The Crossing Guard Lady."

On the first day that we walked into school I noted that she was slightly dramatic in the way that she stopped traffic for kids who were crossing the street.  She held her stop sign way up and stretched out her arms and took a very broad protective stance.  I smiled at her and she greeted the kids as they were crossing.  

The girls did okay on their first couple days of school.  They reported some typical "new kid" issues.  They felt lost on the playground.  They didn't know what to do with themselves during recess.  They wished for friends.  I knew the first days would be a little hard, but it didn't make it any less painful for them, or for me.  

On about the third day of school, we parked in our usual place across the street from the school, and we started walking toward the crosswalk.  As we were walking, on the other side of the street a car came zipping down the road. The Crossing Guard Lady went crazy.  "SLOOOWW DOOOOWWNN!!"  She was yelling and wildly waving her arms.  Her stop sign was flapping up and down like a giant wing, as she tried to get the attention of Mr. Speedy McSpeedster in the School Zone.  The driver saw her and immediately slowed to almost a stop.  

The Crossing Guard Lady got a big smile on her face. Then, she gave the driver a thumbs up sign and waved her on.  It was a simple gesture but I could almost hear the inner dialogue that went with her thumbs up. "Yes, that is how we drive in the school zone.  I know you'll remember for next time."

By that time we had reached the crosswalk and The Crossing Guard Lady held her stop sign up, and dramatically stepped out into the street.  "Okay Folks, It's safe to cross now!  Have a good day!"  Then she made eye contact with me.  "And, yes," she said pleasantly.  "I DO yell at cars because your babies are my babies."  

At that moment those were such beautiful words to my mama heart.  That's what I want.  I want someone who is going to care deeply for my kids when I can't be there.    As her words sank into my heart I felt a lump in my throat.  At that moment she was my favorite person in the whole world.

After I took the girls to their classrooms I stopped to thank The Crossing Guard Lady for her strong work. As we started to talk a little tiny girl called her name.  She turned and the girl ran to her for a hug.  They hugged and then The Crossing Guard Lady looked at her watch.  "Guess what honey?  You are ALMOST on time.  If you run real quick, you might make it to class without a Tardy Slip."  The little girl smiled and started running toward the school building.  I watched and said, "That's how we roll sometimes.  ALMOST on time."  The Crossing Guard Lady looked at me and smiled.  "I'm just glad that she's here."  No judgement. Just grace.

As I reflected later about the morning, I was struck by her simple act of grace as she offered a smile to the reformed school zone speeder.

When I am in positions of authority, and I have a policing role, I am much more likely to offer an extended stink eye for good measure.  But the reassuring smile and the thumbs up was so gracious.

I want to start being more like the Crossing Guard Lady.  I want to put my heart fully into the work in front of me, and I want to generously offer grace in the places I am tempted to judge.  

And I want to treat your babies as if they are my babies.

I hope your school has a Crossing Guard Lady who is even half as sweet and beautiful as our Crossing Guard Lady.

To Anyone who has ever nurtured the heart of a child

This weekend I had an opportunity to help out at a large kids event that happens weekly in nearby city. At this event there were different stations that the kids were rotating through and I was helping at the craft station.  This week, in light of Mother's Day, the craft was to make a Mother's Day card. We'd already had two groups of kids cycle through when the older group of kids came.
The directions were simple. "Mother's Day Cards!  Here are the markers.  Decorative papers.  Glue. Have Fun!"  I helped a couple kids before I saw a girl out of the corner of my eye.  She was sitting on the floor against the wall on the side of the room.  I walked over to her.  "Do you want to make a card?"  She shook her head.  "I don't..." she searched for words, "... really celebrate Mother's Day."  I nodded.  Her eyes looked tired.  Not a sleepy kind of tired.  A life long weariness kind of tired.  I know nothing of her story, but I could almost feel the ache of her heart.  I wasn't sure how to respond.  "Do you want a blank piece of paper to just draw?"  She shook her head again.  "No, I'll just stay here."
I wanted to help.  I wanted to be able to comfort her aching heart.  I wanted to do something... but I couldn't think of anything.  I had no words to offer, so simply said, "Okay," and I walked back to my post and continued with helping all the other card makers.  A few minutes later I heard a voice, "Actually, can I have a blank paper?"  I turned and I saw the same girl.  We got her a paper and I watched as she went to work.  She had written a sweet message and added several decorative touches before she started to talk.
"I'm making this for my teacher.  She is a really good teacher.  She's almost kind of like a mom.  She's really protective.  She doesn't let people bully, and she cares about kids.  She's good.  She's protective."  Then she smiled proudly as she carefully folded her paper into a handmade envelope that she had stapled herself.

It was remarkable to me to see the change in her countenance as she talked about her teacher.  I wish her teacher could have seen what I saw.  Dear teacher, you brought joy to a hurting kiddo today.  You reminded her that there was someone in her world who cares and protects.  For some reason the very term "Mother's Day" hurts her heart, but you helped her hold on to what she thinks a mother should be. You may not feel like you are doing much and maybe to you it wasn't... but to this kiddo, in this moment, you were a thread of hope in a sea of hurt.

One of my favorite parts in all of the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis is found in the book, The Horse and His Boy.  The Lion is revealing to the boy, Shasta all the places that He has been with him and He says, "There was only one Lion.  I was the Lion who..."  and then he names all the ways that he had protected and saved him and directed his steps.  I think of this young life, and her teacher who has been a "protective,"  and I hope that many years down the road she will be able to look back and see God's provision for her in the midst of her pain.

On this Mother's Day I want to honor my mother.  I am thankful for all of the ways that she gave of herself when I was a kiddo, and for all of the ways that she has supported me as I mother my own kiddos.  

But I want to acknowledge the other unsung heroes on this day.  There are so many people who give and nurture the hearts of our children whose efforts are often overlooked.  There are a lot of "childless" mothers out there who are doing a lot of mothering. And there are mothers who are mothering many more than they actually birthed.

Thank you. You all represent the teacher in this story.  You invest and you care and you give of yourself, and you may think that no one sees.  But somewhere there is a child carefully coloring a picture.  Choosing markers that represent your favorite sports team, and folding up a paper with a seemingly scribbled message. When you open it please see beyond the words and look into the eyes of the child who wrote it.  There is a light... and there is a hope because you are a part of her life.

Happy Mother's Day to you.  You are seen.

Why people run

Last week while we were jogging, my friend and I witnessed a vehicle hit and run.  We were running along the sidewalk and suddenly a small SUV plowed into the car that was parked right next to us as we ran by.  The SUV didn't even try to stop.  They just kept driving even though it meant that they acted as a bulldozer pushing the small Jetta forward until it was pushed out of the way. Neither of us were hurt at all, but I think we were both a little shaken.  Later when I was talking to my husband about what happened we started talking about the courage that it takes to do what is right, and why people run.

At dinner that night I talked about what had happened.  We talked with the kids about how everybody makes mistakes.  Everyone.  But when we do something that causes damage or hurts someone, we should check to see what we need to do to make things right.  We tried to relate it to things that might happen now in their everyday lives...  Accidentally stepping on a toe, or bumping into someone.  We can stop and say, "Are you okay?"  We can ask if there is anything we should do.

We talked with the kids about the accident that I saw.  We pondered about why someone might have kept on driving.  Maybe they were afraid of getting into trouble.  Maybe they were afraid that someone would be angry with them.  Then I said, "You know, when you get older and you are driving a car... you might accidentally crash into someone.  You might be afraid of getting into trouble.  You might be afraid of the consequences, but it is really important to take responsibility for the mistakes we make.  Mama and Papa want to help you.  We won't always shield you from the consequences, but we will be with you to help you figure out what to do."

It was a good talk.  It was a good reminder to me of all the ways I want to establish good alignment with my kids while they are young.  We are with you.  Life is full of lots of big lessons to learn.  Lets do this together.  It doesn't have to be scary.  You don't have to run.

This morning I stopped by Goodwill.  I had my youngest child with me.  I usually have to remind him several times to use his eyes to look at things.  He was examining a ceramic soap dish that looked like a skateboard. He tested it to see if it would roll down the aisle.  It did not.  The attempt to do so, had unfortunate results for the soap dish.  He picked up the two pieces and looked at me with his bottom lip puckered out.

"Uh-oh," I said.  "That's why we try to just use our eyes.  Let's take the pieces and we can go and apologize.  Can you say, "I'm sorry that I broke the soap dish?"  He shook his head.  "You say that Mama.  I will stand BEHIND you."  He looked terrified.  I could tell that this was too much for him.

"Okay," I agreed. "Let's do this together."  We walked together to the front of the store.  We put the things we were going to purchase on the counter and then I took out the broken pieces.  I looked at my kiddo and I presented the cashier with the 2 piece soap dish.  "We had a little accident," I explained.  "We accidentally broke this soap dish.  We wanted to say that we are sorry."  She was very gracious and nodded.  "Oh that happens all the time.  Sometimes I break things too.  Let's just throw it away."  She was very kind.

I realize that the consequences of breaking a goodwill soap dish will be different than the consequences of crashing into the back of a parked vehicle.  But let's start with the small things.

I'm realizing as I walk through this journey of parenting that there has to be a balance of allowing my kids to experience the natural consequences of their actions and modeling grace to them.

The truth is, we all make mistakes and there are times that the consequences of our own mistakes are too much for all of us.  But "God in his gracious kindness declares us not guilty.  He has done this through Christ Jesus, who has freed us by taking away our sins." (Romans 3:24 NLT)

I am reminded of one of my favorite old Rich Mullins songs.

If I stand let me stand on the promise that you will pull me through, and if  I can't let me fall on the grace that first brought me to you, and if I sing let me sing for the joy that has born in me these songs  and if I weep let it be as a man who is longing for his home.   ("If I Stand" by Rich Mullins)

Lets add to this and say, If we run let us run to the foot of the cross.  There is grace and there is mercy enough for all of our mistakes and all of our short comings.  

Thoughts about progress

"Hey!  I did it all by myself!!!!"  I love it when my people start doing things all by themselves.  Getting dressed, for example, even if it means that they are wearing striped leggings with a printed skirt and non-matching shirt/sweater combo.  Trying new foods, new accomplishments at the playground, dry nighttime pull-ups.  We are making progress. 

Progress is a funny word.  Progress implies moving forward.  We think of it as a good thing.  Unless we are talking about a disease.  The disease progressing is not good.  A few months ago I went with my dad to a doctor's appointment.  She described his disease as being on a train that is going a certain direction.  In the medical realm there is no way to turn the train around or to make it go in reverse.  "The best we can do is to try to slow the train down."  Progress here has a totally different meaning.

Last summer my dad struggled a lot with feeling dizzy.  His blood pressure would drop way down and sometimes he suddenly would need to stop and hold on to something, or sit down.  Then, one day in September my parents went out to breakfast and my dad momentarily passed out.  Unfortunately for him, when this happened he had been standing up.  Down he went.  It was a little bit scary for all involved, but my dad quickly recovered and they were able to leave the restaurant and my mom took him into the doctor for an evaluation.  It wasn't immediately clear to them why my dad's blood pressure was dropping but they gave him some tips to try to manage it, and they advised us to have chairs available all over the place so that he could sit down in short order if he needed.

Well, it turns out that if you fall over somewhere and there isn't an immediate explanation as to why you are falling down, the state thinks its probably not a good idea for you to drive. (For the record, I concur with this government regulation.)  So not long after this episode my dad was officially asked to turn in his license.  No more driving for Grandpa.

Not long after this, my dad had an appointment with a new neurologist.  The doctor listened to his symptoms, and looked at his medication list.  He advised my dad to wean himself off of one of the medications and see how he did.  Within a couple days of being off the medication, he stopped having dizzy spells.  He started being able to ride his bike for longer stretches.  Overall, he felt a lot better.

Okay, now I want to take a moment to talk about "progress" in terms of medicine.  I have 2 people in my very close circle that are in the medical field.  Both of them have spent years and years studying how the body works, and then reading really super boring journal articles and studies that have been done with different pharmaceuticals to see how effective they are at treating different diseases.  They look at foods, vitamins and minerals and try to understand and see patterns with things that seem to help our bodies fight disease.  But our bodies are really complicated and people with seemingly similar symptoms don't always respond in the same way to the same treatments.

I have cringed listening to people talk condescendingly about their healthcare provider not being able to figure out what is wrong with them.  I just would like to take this moment to point out that these people have put A TON of time and effort and emotional wherewithal into trying to understand the human body and how to aid in fighting off disease.  They deserve some respect for that.  I have witnessed first hand people who read the medical journals in their free time, and spend family dinners talking about things that would make many of you want to either cry or throw up.  (I have almost done both of these on more than one occasion.) Despite all of their efforts, THEY STILL AREN'T GOD, and it's quite unreasonable for us to have that expectation... of anyone for that matter.

In short, it became clear that the medication that my dad was taking was the cause of his dizzy spells, and that he did better not taking it.  There are some people who might benefit from this particular medication, and we don't begrudge the doctor who originally prescribed it.

So, now that I have that out of the way, lets go back to talking about my dad.  After he had resumed feeling generally awesome for quite some time, he started making a case for having his license back.  Some of us weren't so sure about that idea, but it wasn't really up to us to decide.  There were really a lot of hoops to jump through if that is what he wanted. But Grandpa was pretty determined.   He had to get a doctor to sign a paper saying that he was medically cleared to be re-evaluated.  He got that letter.  Then he had to submit it to the DMV and request an appointment to take the driving test.   While he waited, my dad found a YouTube video called, "How to pass the driving test."  He probably watched it a hundred times.  He had two last minute conflicts and had to reschedule that appointment TWICE.  But his day came.  A couple of weeks ago he took the driving test.

And HE PASSED!!!  After a little more than 6 months with no licence, Grandpa is a licensed driver again.  We celebrated.  I think that in a small way we felt like the train that doesn't go backwards, went backwards anyway and it felt like progress.

the beauty of counting to eleventeen

A couple months ago as I was preparing dinner I listened to the kids playing.  I could hear enough snippits of their interactions to know that they were playing hide-and-go-seek.  The game had been going along for a while when someone decided that my youngest should have a turn to count. He is always happy to have a turn.  Unfortunately for him, he's not super skilled in the counting department. I listened.  He counted.  "1. 2.  3.  Here I come."  It actually took him less than 2 seconds to get that out and he went running down the hall.  I could not hear the interaction that followed, but he was sent back.  I heard him count again.  "1. 2. 3. ...5...8. 9. 10."  And off he went again.  This time I could hear some frustrated voices.  "You aren't counting long enough!!!"  So he tried again a third time.  "1......2......3.....5.......9.....10...(Now insert very long pause.  He is smart.)  
ELEVENTEEN!!!!"  And he went running with gusto down the hall to find his sisters. 
Nobody argued with the kid who counted to eleventeen.

My school aged kiddos go to a school that has a diverse population.  This year there are 2 different moms that I would love to chat with, but they don't speak English and I am not very confident in my Spanish speaking abilities.  I would smile and say "hello" and they would shyly smile back but that was as far as our communication went.  Until a few weeks ago.  I gathered up some of my courage and I initiated a conversation in Spanish.  We talked non stop for the few minutes that remained before school let out.  I am certain that I made numerous grammatical errors.  I probably said something like "eleventeen".  But guess what?  I don't think she cared. 

I went home and I thought about this other mom and how often she has to gather up her courage to do her best with a language she can't speak very well.  All the embarrassment of knowing that you are making mistakes and wondering if you are really being understood.  Suddenly I realized that I had this little window of opportunity to absorb that for her.  I could be the one to bumble around in a language I don't speak well.  I could be the one to make all the mistakes, and allow her to nod reassuringly and offer the words that I was searching for.  What if my willingness to be weak was a blessing to her?  What if it was empowering?

As the fall was coming to an end, our family took advantage of a few extra days off for conferences and we went to the beach.  As we were gathering up all our stuff to go, my dad offered to start loading the luggage in the van.  I thanked him but declined.  I explained to him that I wanted to quickly vacuum out the van before we left.  A few minutes later I was aware that my dad was getting out the vacuum and preparing to vacuum the car. 

So kind.  But I cringed.

The far back seat of the van regularly has enough crumbs to sustain our whole family for an entire meal or two. I always intend to get back there, and "follow up" on what my kids believe to be a sufficient clean up job, but I rarely make it to the third back seat.  To say that the van needed to be vacuumed was a severe understatement.  Anyone who has ever known anything about my dad knows that he is a very strong Type A personality.  Growing up, room inspection was serious business.  I watched him vacuum my van and I was tempted to go back to my childhood days of "room inspection."  I was not passing inspection.  My van was a disaster.

My dad kindly and patiently vacuumed the van as we gathered the rest of our stuff.  He then helped us to load up the van.  He didn't say anything about our crumbs or the mess.  He smiled and told us to have fun.  I thanked him for his help and we headed off.

As we drove to the beach I thought about my feelings about my dad vacuuming the van.  One thing that I have come to appreciate is that even though there are things that my dad can't do anymore, he is very eager to do anything that he can.  Maybe my willingness to be weak, or in this case, my willingness to accept help is a blessing to him. 

What if I limited my own interactions to the places I feel comfortable?  What if I only did the things that I know I do well?  What if I never allowed myself to need help from the people around me?

Friends I think that this is where grace is rich.  Grace is rich in the places that lie just beyond the edge of our own capabilities.  When I can say, "This isn't something I've mastered.  I need help." we put ourselves in a place to receive grace.  I saw it in the eyes of another mother, encouraging me with thankful eyes.  Her nods and her broad smile spoke grace to me.  I saw it in the hands of my father, reaching the vacuum into the far back seat of our van, using his type A skills to get every measurable crumb into its proper place.  It's not room inspection anymore.  Just grace.  I can rest in that.

Romans 12:16 "Live in harmony with each other.  Don't try to act important, but enjoy the company of ordinary people, and don't think you know it all!"  (New Living)

So I have a new resolve.  I want to live more of my life on the edge of my own strength and allow myself to be empowered by His strength.  I want to reach beyond my own capabilities even if it means counting to eleventeen.  I want to be willing to not be perfect and admit the places that I need help and accept it.  And I resolve to eagerly extend grace as well.  To offer help where I see that it is needed.  To acknowledge the effort that it takes to walk outside of our comfort zone and use encouraging eyes. 

I want to walk in places of rich grace.

The banner we stand under: "dearly loved"

Hello dear friends!  The holidays are over.  We celebrated well with family and friends and now we are getting settled back into the routine of school and life.  I realized as we celebrated that this is one of the first years for quite a while that we haven't spent at least some time in the little city where I grew up. In years past we have traveled up to spend Christmas with my parents, and now they are already here!  Yay!!!  But then I realized that I really missed all the little moments of seeing lots of other people from our church there.  I tasted just a little of what has been hard for my parents. We had a lovely Christmas but I think that we all tasted a little bit of the loss in the midst of the festivities.
We are all making new friends in our new environment.  We love our neighbors and we are thankful to be here.  But the richness of life that comes with 36 years of friendships isn't replaced in 8 months.

I have learned one of the key components to harmonious community living is being able to identify and respect the things that are important to each other.  Fortunately for us most of the areas of what could be tension have been easily remedied.  For example, we keep 2 different kinds of coffee in the house.  We also have a coffee pot AND a pour over system.   Everyone might have an opinion on the best way to do certain things and we all have preferences but we are all pretty flexible and it works out well most of the time.

Sometimes it doesn't.  I probably don't really need to elaborate more than that.  Sometimes it is hard to be flexible and sometimes we aren't considerate of what is really important to the other people.*  There are 7 people who live in this house and more than half of us are "First Born Children". We may or may not have really strong opinions about THE RIGHT way to do things and sometimes I have found myself being really stubborn about a ridiculously insignificant detail.

So with that as the back drop I will share with you my favorite Christmas gift.  I had a plain canvas and I painted it black.  Then I painted in white the words "dearly loved" on the canvas.  It wasn't perfect but I was pleased with the outcome and it seemed appropriate that my best wasn't perfect.  I am not perfect at loving people.  I gave my imperfect painting to my parents for Christmas. 

Scott Krippayne wrote a song called "What if". 
... Love will erase the fear...
What if you lived like you were loved? 
 What if you did all the things your heart's dreaming of?
What if you sang your song at the top of your lungs?
What if you lived like you were loved?

It's thought provoking.  Do I really live like I believe that I'm loved?  Can I walk forward in confidence, knowing that it's okay if I fall on my face because the love of the Only One who really matters is unshakable. 

This was my favorite Christmas gift.  The reminder that we are Dearly Loved.  This is the banner that we stand under.  Love is a gift.  A gift that God gave first.  We give love and we receive love because HE first loved us.  So freely.

We live in house where people have different "right" ways to brew coffee and we have different opinions about other things too that are still too sensitive to write about and might never be funny to some of us. We have different priorities and different ideas about what is important in the moment.*  But we stand under the banner of "DEARLY LOVED" and at the end of the day that is what matters. 



*In the midst of writing this I was able to assist in building a Star Wars Lego Star Ship with space for 2 bad guys. This was an important priority for someone who I love.  :)

The mess of God's story. A Christmas reflection

We had recently set out our Christmas decorations and the girls were playing "Nativity".  We have a couple sets that we let them play with and they walk their Little People through the Christmas story details that they know.  This particular day they also brought down their play food and incorporated that into the story as well.  I was in the kitchen working on dinner, and this is what I overheard in the living room:

"Hey Wise Guy!  Can you hand me an avocado?"
"I think we are out of avocados.  Do you want a.... (surveying play food) doughnut?"
"We aren't out of avocados!  There is one right by your other foot... wait! doughnut? Yes!  I want the doughnut."
"Wise Guy!  We better pack up the rest of this food for our trip."  Child wraps food into a tortilla to be loaded onto a camel.

 I find traveling snacks a very essential part of any journey and apparently I am passing this trait on to my children and they are helping their "Wise Guys" load up camels full of felt fajitas and hand-knit baked goods.  I'm not sure where my kids got the idea to call them "Wise Guys."  I am making a mental note to educate them in calling them "Wise Men."  It sounds more respectful.

Listening to the way that they play out the story makes me think.  In a funny sort of way, it makes the story come alive.  There are so many details that we don't know.  What kind of traveling snacks did the wise men eat?  What about Mary?  In her latter stages of pregnancy did she have cravings?  Did Joseph run out at the last minute and buy some kind of favorite dried fruit for their long trip to Bethlehem? How long did he plead for a room, and then a space... and then ANY kind of space....   I can just picture him saying, "Hey sir? Yes, I know that you are out of rooms, but I think that my wife is about to give birth on the street out there and it would be really awesome if we could just stay in your shed.  I'm not even kidding."

I wonder if along the way there were ever any times that Mary or Joseph second guessed God's plan.  "Oh wow, God?... remember how we are having this really important baby?  Are you sure you wanted him to be born here in this stable? I kind of had a different idea about how this might work out."

Can we all agree that the wise men made a very unfortunate stop to ask directions?  Oh oh, yes, I know that the consequences of that had been prophesied long before that... but the point I am trying to make is that when we look with just our physical eyes, the story of Jesus' birth is a loaded story of a couple of very difficult journeys. Journeys that take a few turns that certainly wouldn't have happened if we were the ones writing the story.

Sometimes I feel like there is a lie that has crept into our hearts...  that if there is something that God wants us to do then He is going to "open the doors" and if the "doors" don't open for you pretty easily, well then, it's probably not really what He wanted.

I am making an observation.  The best God stories are really messy, and not at all the way that we would expect or plan. Not many doors just open smoothly.  Sometimes God calls us to blaze a trail, and trailblazing is actually a lot of work.  It's often messy, sweaty, and not very beautiful at all to the naked eye.

But for people who know what to look for, we can see the beauty in the story.  This is story of a very young and very poor couple moving forward in a story that didn't really make sense.  They were walking into the unknown and closed doors, but it didn't matter because God was with them.  I think that when you are confident that God is with you, a lot of things don't matter anymore and you can do things that you might not have thought you could.  Giving birth to a baby in a barn, for example.

So friend, if you are living a journey that seems wrought with difficulty, take heart.  Emmanuel.  God is with us.  I pray this is the truth that grips your heart this season.  We celebrate because He came near.  I pray that you will be strengthened as you walk your hard road or you face another closed door or your path takes a twist that seems so far from what you would have planned.

He is with you.

Something you dread with someone you love... a thankfulness post

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!!!  In honor of Thanksgiving want to share one of my favorite life lessons.  I'm thankful for life lessons.  :)

For a few weeks we have been talking about the overgrown blackberry bushes that run along the front of our property.  They were starting to over take the street in front of our house and then all the leaves blowing around in the street were settling at the base of all the bushes and it was a giant mess.

Last week we had a free morning, and it wasn't raining so my husband and I decided to tackle it together.  With, of course, the help of my 3 year old.  His job is primarily comic relief and responsibility for making sure that we don't get anything done too quickly.  We happen to have a smaller rake and he carried it around and talked about his special "brake".

So....   it was a nasty job.  Blackberry bushes are really a pain to deal with.  Literally.  When we were done we were both all scratched up. There was far more debris than could fit in our yard waste bin, and we ended up loading up the back of my husband's pick up truck with leaves and blackberry branches so that he could take it to the dump.  It was work.  But guess what?  We had fun.  We worked together and laughed at being tangled in the blackberries and helped each other.  We gave the 3 year old some places to use his "brake" and we had a good morning. 

You know what I'm thankful for?  Doing something I dread, with someone(s) that I love. 

I first had this realization when I was in high school.  I had an amazing youth pastor.  We had a really neat youth group with a strong sense of community.   We did all the usual crazy youth group activities together... funny scavenger hunts and weird youth group games. I was recently reminded of an unsponsored youth group escapade that involved switching the letters on our Dairy Queen sign from "We have pumpkin ice cream" to "We have nice rumps".  Good times.  We also did a lot of really meaningful things together too. Service projects that involved picking up trash, serving breakfast to homeless people, we went on several life-changing mission trips. I remember at one point realizing that my appreciation for these people was so deep that I would rather dig a ditch with the youth group than spend an afternoon at the mall. In high school. I really felt that way.

This, my friends, is how I learned that I was truly in love with my husband.  I realized that I would rather travel out to the middle of Nowhereville with him, than be anywhere else without him.

Loving relationships are empowering.  Having someone by my side who loves me and wants to walk with me through the ups and downs... that gives me strength to do things that I didn't think that I could do.

So thankful for the people in my life who have said, "This is hard. Lets do it together."

Healing and Wholeness

So a few weeks ago it was suggested to us that maybe we should pray that my dad be healed.  In January my dad was diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia.  My dad is 75.  I hear about a disease with the word dementia and I think of that as being kind of an old person disease.  I'm not saying that 75 is old, (especially because my dad reads this blog) but it is three quarters of the way to being 100.  100 is kind of old.  Getting older happens to everyone. EVERY DAY.  We are all getting older.  And I have some thoughts about how we pray and what we hope for people who are getting older. 

A few weeks ago I was made aware of a friend of a friend who has a 6 year old who sustained a traumatic head injury.  I prayed for that family and for that little boy and I prayed that God would bring healing to his brain.  I listened to a suggestion that we pray for my dad and I realized that I felt almost guilty to ask God to heal my dad.  If God is going to heal someone, well, there are kids with cancer, or serious injuries or illnesses... and my dad is already 75.  Maybe we should just accept that as the gift that it's been and pray for the more "important" things.  As if God is limited in his power to heal.  Like we might use up something that could have been used for someone else.

I thought about it for quite a while.  We do want healing for my dad.  But more important than physical healing, we want spiritual healing. We want spiritual wholeness for all of us. And sometimes spiritual healing happens in the context of physical suffering.  I can tell you that, because I feel like that is something that we are experiencing already. 

But we do want for my dad to live in all the fullness that God has for him in all the days that he has.  And I really believe that God wants that too.  And I suddenly felt a conviction that we should pray for my dad. 

Last week, on October 29, we celebrated that 11 years ago, Timothy and I met.  We had our first meal together at Taco Bell.  We celebrated and Timothy made a really amazing Mexican feast that was really nothing like Taco Bell.  :)  Nobody complained.  Then after dinner we explained to the kids that we were going to pray for Grandpa.  We reminded them that Grandpa has a disease in his brain that makes his brain not work quite right.  I fumbled around in telling them that getting old and dying is a part of life, but that we want to pray for Grandpa and ask God to allow him to live in all the fullness of life that He has for Grandpa.

So we did.  We gathered around Grandpa and we prayed.  In their own way the kids prayed for Grandpa and for his brain, and thanked God for giving us Grandpa and that he is so kind and loving.  We all prayed and asked God to bring healing in whatever ways He wants, and that nothing, not even a disease would prevent Grandpa from being all that God wants for him to be in this season.

It was really a beautiful time for our family even just to pray our hopes for wholeness for Grandpa. It felt like a football team huddle, with a reminder that we are together in this and that together we know that we are on the same team, and our game plan is really to praise the Lord for His goodness to us, regardless of the outcome.

I think sometimes I hesitate to walk into something like that with my kiddos because I am afraid that they might get disappointed or confused.  I don't want to create a platform for my kids to be disappointed with God.  Especially if I have low expectations for anything to change.  But all of this really is revealing of my small faith.  And if we never walk with them into a situation where they might be disappointed, then I don't have the opportunity to navigate that with them. 

Tonight it has been one week since we prayed for Grandpa.  As far as we know he still has Lewy Body Dementia.  But since then, he hasn't suffered from the dizziness that had been so debilitating.  But more importantly, we have had some really good conversations as a family and with our kids about paying attention to what God is doing, because we know that He wants fullness of life for all of us.   

Can you fix this?

One of the beautiful things that we have been able to experience since living with Grandma and Grandpa, is that Grandma has a sewing machine and she knows how to use it!  She enjoys quilting, and she is willing to mend.  Even before we lived together my kids learned to save their favorite garments with little tears or ripped seams, because... "Grandma can SEW IT!!!"  Now that we share a house, everything with even the slightest tear is immediately delivered to her sewing corner.

A few weeks ago we were driving down the road we saw a car (At least I think it had been a car) by the side of the road that was obviously totaled.  My youngest looked at the car and offered, "Maybe Grandma can fix that."  One of his siblings immediately responded by saying, "Um, NO. Even Grandma can't SEW cars!!!" 
Right.  We were looking at something that would make a skilled body shop mechanic cringe, much less Grandma equipped with her ever-handy sewing machine.  I wonder if when Jesus talked about "the faith of a child" if He was thinking of the faith of a 3 year old child.  Boy howdy, that kid has faith!  (Smashed up car? No problem! My grandma has a sewing machine...)

It is very endearing when a child with pleading eyes and complete faith comes and offers up something precious, yet broken and says, "Can you fix this?"  Has this ever happened to you?  An irresistible request to work at a nearly impossible task... and for the sheer love of the child, you agree to try to find a way... (even if it means a late-night search on Amazon or ebay in hopes of finding a suitable replacement that is almost as good as mending?)

When I was growing up, my dad had a reputation for being a "good fixer."  (He actually still does, but he may or may not actually want that information in print, so don't tell anybody.) When we were younger we would take him our broken toys, but as we got older it was our computers and our college student vehicles making funny noises.  My dad has the ability to keep half dead vehicles alive for a really long time.  He joked that it was his love language.  Even though he joked about it, I realized later it did make me feel loved.  Driving a car that was well-cared for made me feel well cared for. 

I look at my kiddos and the little mended places of their favorite clothing items and it makes me smile.  Those little places of mending represent the fact that someone stepped in and cared for the things that were special to them.

I have another Father who is a really good fixer.  You can't always see it, but there are little mended places in my heart that remind me of His touch.  Some people would call them scars, and they would be right, but the truth is that scars are places of healing.  Someone who loves me took the time to sit down and mend something that was broken, and now when I look at these mended places, it reminds me that I'm loved.  And when I take time to remember all that He has done, I am all the more eager to gather up my emotional mending pile and offer it to Him.  He's a really good fixer.

The things we can not see

Yesterday as I was walking a kiddo in to preschool, I looked at his clothing selection for the day.  He was wearing a Christmas robot shirt, (in October) with some camouflage pants which he was wearing backwards so the two back pockets were in the front and the drawstring was in the back, hanging down like a little tail.  He was wearing shoes and they happened to be on the right feet.
For some reason I felt compelled to offer an explanation to his teachers that I do not usually select the clothing my children choose to wear, and they dress themselves.  I don't know if I was concerned that they might think that I didn't really know which way pants are supposed to go, or if they thought that I might not be aware that the Christmas robot shirt doesn't really "match" the camouflage pants.  Either way, they kindly affirmed my resolve to allow my people independence in this area of their lives.
To be honest, my decision to encourage my kids to do anything they can on their own has more to do with my value of efficiency and getting things done than it does with my philosophical belief that they should learn and grow in self-sufficiency and independence.  But that made me think about how easy it is to focus on the things that we can see... and neglect the things we can not see.

Last week one of my children did poorly on a test.  She was aware that there were things that she didn't understand and she was concerned about her performance and her ability to do better the next time.  We talked a little bit about it.  Then on Sunday afternoon we sat down to read through some of her reading homework together.  She looked at me and said, "Can I pray before we read?"  Then she prayed and it went something like this, "God, today in church we talked about how you can help us with anything we need help with, and I really need help with my reading.  I really want to learn and grow and get better and I really need your help.  Please help me to learn and do better. Help my line to grow."  (They have a line graph that shows their score on the reading test) "In Jesus Name, Amen."

I looked at my sweet kiddo.  I looked at the worry in her eyes and I gave her hug.  Then I said, "You know what?  The tests that you take are a measure of how well you are reading.  And you are actually a good reader and you are getting better every day.  But there are other things that you are learning that aren't measured by that line."  I took a piece of paper and I started making my own line."  You are kind.  You look for people who are discouraged and you show kindness.  You are sensitive and you naturally offer comfort and encouragement to people who are weary and hurting.  You are THE MOST generous kiddo I know.  You give freely and you bless the people around you."  (all the while I was drawing my own line graph.)  Then I added, "You aren't even very old, and you have already learned a lot about all of these things.  Many people who are much older than you haven't learned this much." (Like me, for example.)  "And you know what?  School doesn't have a line graph for that.  But God sees it. And these kinds of things are heart learning things and that is much more important to God than any of the things that you are learning at school."   Then I cut out a big "dot" and I pretended to be measuring out her "heart learning" line graph and I pinned the dot to the ceiling in her room.

Her eyes sparkled with her huge smile, and she breathed kind of a sigh of relief.  Then she said, "Thanks Mama.  Can we still work on my reading?"

Deep Sigh for me.  Sometimes in the middle of a teaching moment with a kiddo, I feel a sort of heart tug and I realize there is a lesson in this for me too. I'm pretty competent in my reading skills and most days I'm able to get my pants on straight, but there are lots of days when I start to feel weary and discouraged by a measure that God doesn't hold me to.  When I sit back and start telling Him my own frustrations and failures, He quietly whispers to my heart, "Oh yes, I saw all of that, and none of those things are important to Me.  Will you listen to My voice?  Draw close to my heart, and rest in My love."

So we will work together on reading, but together we will also remember to pay attention to the "heart-learning" things that are infinitely more important even if they can't be measured.

"When I am big, and you are little..."

In the early stages of our talks about joining households, there were several times that the subject of "being a burden" came up.  I have been thinking about this concept quite a bit since then.  This is what I've come up with so far.

1. Nobody really wants to be a burden.
2. Everybody needs people in their lives who care for them.
3. It is a blessing to take care of the people whom we love.
4. I was kind of a pain in the patootie when I was in jr. high/high school.  I was probably kind of a big fat burden if I really think of it.
5. Let's not think of people as burdens.  Let's think of them as people who need care.
6. Everyone needs care to one degree or another and there are some seasons that require more care than others.
7. One of the people I care for the most does really interesting things.  For example, just yesterday he made himself a scarf.  He made it out of toilet paper.  He didn't knit it or anything like that.  He just wrapped it around his neck and ran like a crazy person all over the house.  For some of that time one end of his scarf was rapidly unrolling off the end of the toilet paper roll.
8. Sometimes people that we love and care for make gigantic messes and toilet paper never looks quite the same when you re-roll it back on to the roll. 

Now, let's go back to point #3.  It really is a blessing to take care of the people that we love, but that doesn't make it easy.  (Please refer to #8) There are people who have been called to really really hard kinds of caring.  I have watched weary parents of children with high needs who aren't progressing in the ways that most children do... and I wonder how they do it, day after day.

I don't want to be overly simplistic in my views about this... but I'm pretty sure this is why God gave us families.  When I have one kid running around like a crazy person with toilet paper around his neck, it's a really good thing that there is a 50% chance that his dad might deal with this.
In all seriousness I know that I'm really blessed in caring for people who are really easy to care for, and there are a lot of caregivers out there that have a really hard job. But even then, that's why we need families.  Maybe you are in a situation where you need a few more people to come around and help you to care for the people in your life who require care. 

Today on my way home from doing some errands, a small person in the back seat said to me, "Mama.  When I am big and you are little, I will carry you."  Oh. My. Word.  Melts my heart.  In a very sweet way, it was a reminder to me that in the course of life there are times we give and times we take.

I was thinking about the paralytic from Luke.  He had 4 friends who carried him to Jesus.  Four friends helping one guy.  My guess is that 2 guys could have gotten him most of the way to Jesus.  But 4? Well, they got the job done.  How about this for a biblical life lesson? If you are caring for someone who wants to see Jesus, and getting there might require disassembling a roof, take a couple extra people. Or maybe we could just say that there are seasons when you need a TEAM of people to do what God is asking you to do.

That's okay.  It's okay to care.  And it's okay to need help.  And it's okay if when you are done all the toilet paper rolled back on the roll doesn't look awesome.

And I just want to finish by acknowledging that I'm really completely unqualified to discuss this topic, but I am thinking and learning and growing, and I want to continue think and learn and grow in caring for people and bringing them to Jesus.  I'm sure I will come back to this in the future.

"...because he is afraid of humans."

A couple days ago I was in the midst of a busy getting-everybody-ready-for-school frenzy and I was sitting on the end of a bed with a pile of clothes.  For some reason every step of progress that morning was feeling like a battle.  I called again. "Please come here so I can help you get dressed!"  In response to my request, I watched this child scoot further into a corner and then peek out from behind a basket of toys and say, "ruff ruff."
One of my daughters poked her head out of the closet and said, "Mama.  He is a puppy and he can't come to you because he is the kind of puppy that is afraid of humans."

Oh my word.  It is a really good thing that I have kids to help me interpret my kids.  I thought about this predicament for a minute and then I said in a falsetto voice, "Baby Puppy!  This is your Mamma Doggie!  Please come here so I can help you put on your puppy undos!"  Immediately, my puppy came quickly on all fours, and happily allowed me to help him get dressed, smiling the whole time and saying "Ruff Ruff!" so that I wouldn't forget what kind of creature he was in that moment.  We moved from that to "Puppy breakfast" and "Puppy paw washing"  and taking people to "puppy school"  and my whole morning shifted from challenging to smooth once I knew what language we were speaking.
My people keep me on my toes... because you know, tomorrow isn't going to be a puppy morning.  We might never have a puppy morning again.  Dragons, Dinosaurs, Ninjas, Firefighters....  I never know.

Kids make life so... interesting.  But you know, grown-ups really aren't much different.

We tend to be more dignified and complicated... but we long to be understood.  I can recall a couple of really significant emotionally charged discussions with my husband that made a quick shift when I suddenly felt like he understood me, even if he didn't agree.

Shortly after we combined households my mom and I had a disagreement. Going into the discussion I had felt like it was really important for her to see why she was wrong so that she could change.  (I know, for some reason I get that in my head sometimes.  What this world really needs is a reformed Grandma, and I'm on my mission.) Somewhere in the midst of our conversation I had a deeper realization that my mom felt alone and afraid.  She left behind her home of 36 years, her friends, and her church family.  There is so much uncertainty with my dad's health and future and she is trying to navigate that.  Suddenly it didn't seem so important to make sure she understood me.  When I had eyes to see where she was coming from, I could just say, "This is hard and I'm sorry.  We are here."  And I can tell her that we are here for her and we are, but that doesn't change the fact that it's hard.

So once again, in a different way, I have seen the importance of seeking to understand before making sure that I'm understood.  There will be other days and other conversations that will need to be resolved differently, but this time, this is what we both needed.

In case you are curious, both my parents are reading this blog.  We are committed to working through the difficulties together and I am committed to writing about the difficulties in a way that honors and respects them.  I don't know how that's going to work, but I also know that this blog is only going to be meaningful if we are willing to talk about the hard parts.  I want to be able to talk about the challenges and how we deal with them.  That's the hard part of hard things... they are hard.  But we know that God is with us and that as we learn and grow together we don't have to be afraid of the things that are hard.  We know that His strength will be sufficient for each step.

State of our Union Address

At this point I feel like it's appropriate to just stop for a minute and assess the "state of our union."  As of today we have been living together for four and a half months, and I am happy to report that we are doing well.  I was a little bit afraid that moving would be hard on my dad and that we might see a steep decline with the stress of moving and adjusting to a whole new environment.  So far he has done really well.  He has worked hard at learning his way around a new city and figuring out bike paths and where he can ride his bike.  We are all figuring out the new grocery stores and finding the close by library and swimming pool.


**My dad even directed me through the back roads to the DMV, and took me right there.  Oh, the irony.  We were upgrading his licence for an ID card, and he now has the official honor of being chauffeured anywhere he wants to go.  He proudly directed me right where to go, and then turned to me and said with a smile, "Well, what do you know?  Some of my neuro-pathways are connecting just fine!" **


I think that we are entering what I had anticipated as being the "not-so-hard" season of living together.  In fact, I think we are having fun. It's all an adjustment, but a happy new "normal."


 A couple weeks ago we went on a family bike ride.  All seven of us.  Bike riding is one of my dad's favorite things to do and it was Grandparents Day, and it was sunny, but not unbearably hot.  We loaded up seven bikes and seven people and we made our way to the bike trail that runs along the Columbia River near the airport.  Grandpa couldn't go as far as he usually does but one of our younger participants was peddling her heart out with her training wheels and we were able to keep a pace and a length of time that worked well for everyone.


It feels good to do the things that we can do together, while we are able.


Have you ever rocked your babies for a just a little longer... or read just one more story than you really intended to, because you knew the days were fleeting? Little moments… a silly dance in the kitchen.  a wholehearted laugh.  Eskimo kisses. Little moments that a camera couldn’t really capture but you still try to tuck them away into the memory of your heart?


That's where we are right now, having a lot of days that are worth savoring.



Three-and-a-half feet above the flood plain

Our house sits in the "100 year flood plain".  I put that in quotes because I had never heard that term before we bought the house and I didn't really know what it meant.  Now I have come to understand that there is a greater chance of lots of water coming onto our property and surrounding our house.  I think the land has been flooded before.  Maybe sometime in the past 100 years.  You can tell already that I'm pretty detail oriented and I like to keep track of technical terms and what they mean.  I'll look it up sometime, and keep you posted.  But the important thing for you to know is that builder of our house knew that no one would really want to live in the middle of a flood zone, so he brought in loads and loads of dirt.  And as dirt and fill were brought in, every 6 inches of dirt would be compacted down to make the ground under the house solid.  Then after that, he built the foundation up so that our house actually sits three and a half feet above the flood plain.  

The bottom line for us meant a bit of a headache with paperwork and high rates of flood insurance and forms that needed to be submitted to FEMA.  At one point in the middle of too many things that I didn't understand, I asked God why He was giving us a really great house in the middle of a flood zone.  (Every once in a while I like to do that. I point out to God what looks like kind of a flaw in His plan.)  I started out a conversation with God by saying, "I have a really good idea. You probably didn't think of this before, but maybe you could find us a house that is NOT in a flood plain.  How about that?"  And then in my heart he whispered, "Sweet Child.  You aren't in the flood plain.  You are above it."  In my mind I could see our house, but it wasn't held up by the foundation, it was held by His hands.  Storms could come and water rise, but we would be held above the floods.

And suddenly this house seemed so fitting for us.  It is a physical picture of what we are feeling emotionally.  Walking into the storm, knowing that the waters will rise. Sometimes God calls us into the storms... to live in the flood plain and to know that His hands are holding us keeping us from being consumed.  

Our House

After it had been decided that our family was going to live with Grandma and Grandpa we spent a couple of Saturdays looking at houses together.  It was exhausting.  There were a few houses that my mom and I liked but my husband hated and my dad despised. There were so many things for us to consider.  We needed enough space for all of us.  We needed a large bedroom and bathroom on the main floor because my dad needed to be done with stairs.  We needed close proximity to school and work.  After looking at just a couple houses, I started to realize that finding a house that fit our criteria and that all four adults in the process liked was going to be a miracle.  


We found several houses that would almost work.  A few that might require some significant renovation... but we could do it.  Then we found our house.  A larger house at the end of a quiet street.  a big yard with a little creek running through the front.  Only a couple steps up the porch.  A really beautiful master suite  with a master bathroom on the main floor and then upstairs and at the other end of the house there were three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a living room. It almost felt like it had been built for us.


The problem was that it was a little "too grand" for us.  Almost everything in the house is really high end, there are decorative pillars all over the place.  We are more down-to-earth kind of people.  Not really pillars and super-high end everything people.  But we had looked at hundreds of houses online and walked though quite a few houses and this was the first house we found that had everything we needed with no major renovations needed.  Because we were a little bit out of town we got more house and it was in our price range.


I'll be honest.  It's still hard for me sometimes.  The house, and its grandness doesn't really reflect who we are.  It's the people inside that reflect what we value.  We are choosing to live together, to care for each other and to help each other out.  We are walking into a hard season and we are drawing each other close and walking through it together.  That is why we are here.  Not everybody is going to be able to see that.  But sometimes I need to care a lot less about what I think other people might see.


Recently I bought my 3 year old a new bike.  It was $6.99 at Goodwill, and it came with a working bell, AND a flashing red light.  Can you believe it?  Right! He couldn't either.  He was soooo excited.  I love to give gifts to my kids and watch their excitement.  


Our house is a gift from God, and I am thankful for this gift, but I'm more thankful for the less tangible gift of what this house represents.  This is a place where we can be together.  My kids can enjoy their grandparents and my parents can enjoy their grand kids and we have enough space to make this season a joy and a blessing and not a constant hardship.  I will not overlook that gift.