Watercolor

Fall colors are just about to peak here in southeast Michigan as they do roughly around the first to second week of October every year…typical. But there is something about this year that is just so drastically different. This transition from summer to fall was so slow and deliberate for me this year. It was as if I was watching the world in slow motion. But one day last week it was as if the trees were painted overnight. Everywhere I looked was breathtaking color. The most brilliant reds, oranges and yellows I have ever experienced. It’s as if I woke up one morning to see that God had finished painting unbelievable watercolors.

Every day I’m searching and looking hard at the trees as they change. I’m in awe of what I see. It is almost as if I am witnessing individual leaves changing right in front of my eyes. Why didn’t I notice last year? Were the colors not as vibrant? Surely that can’t be true…

Maybe the answer is that I’ve finally figured out how to slow down – to weigh down these moments with my full attention. To accept the grace of this moment…Sara Groves one of my favorite singers says that “grace is an invitation to be beautiful”. If this moment with my full attention is all grace, given by God, than isn’t extraordinary beauty possible? Even expected?

When I observe the splendor right outside my window, yes, grace…here…a gift for all of us. I don’t always get it right…I move too fast. But right here, this season, I’m all here.

When We Don’t Understand

It seems as though I have entered a season in my life when God is asking me to change, but the reason for the change is unclear. I am sitting here in the middle of things and changing each thing in my life one-by-one – knowing that is what He wants and yet not understanding why. Little glimpses confirm my decisions, but the overall plan is fuzzy.

I don’t like change – even small change. Moving my seat at the dinner table unnerves me a bit – I have a habit of putting things in the same place over and over even if it doesn’t make sense after a while. I eat the same thing for breakfast nearly every day and the absence of coffee in the afternoon could undo me a bit.

Yet so many of the new things I decided to try after I started staying home with the kids are slowly being stripped away. I don’t understand why it is happening, but I know that He is asking me to do a new thing. He is asking me to give thanks – He’s telling me I don’t really get it. One night in desperation I cry out to Him – He tells me to open “One Thousand Gifts” by Ann Voskamp - p. 30. Here is where the core idea of the book is expressed – that eucharisteo – a Greek word meaning grace – thanks – joy is the secret to the full life. He compels me to read this and He says, “You don’t get it.” It is true, I don’t. So I sign up for a new Bible study to reread the book. I go to the first meeting – the leader says, “I don’t know why you are here, but God knows and I’ve been praying for you.” And He knows and I know that what she says is true and we don’t really understand how it is all woven together.

I do not pray well and if praying is talking to God then I guess we don’t talk as much as we should. So I am reading – 6 chapters in 1 week to keep up and I’m writing new gifts – because 1000 written down over a year and a half haven’t left their mark on me. And Ann says in the book that to become a praying woman I must give thanks. That to get rid of ingratitude we nail it out by nailing in thanksgiving and it is physical and it isn’t a blanket of thanks, but a moment-by-moment physical act – it is NOW – when we give thanks and doesn’t that make sense? Grace is not for yesterday or tomorrow or even for an hour from now – it is NOW. Grace is given in this present moment – not thrown as a sugar coating over the past or iridescent hope for the future. It is the humility of the breath of life still present in this moment – knowing that we continue on because our purpose still has validity and that understanding, while grasped for, doesn’t matter. But this moment does and He is with us and we can choose to be fully present in this moment no matter what.

No matter what – when kids scream and things break, and we bleed from that cut and lack of words fester and our expectations fall short again. Grace is present here in this moment. We choose the gratitude or we turn away from the full life.

I’m in the middle ground…in a very slow, confusing, and aching dull transition that I don’t understand. But I pick up grace and thanksgiving and I go forward anyway knowing that His ways are best even when we don’t understand.

When It Is Dusk

I’m sneaking away from bedtime for a moment…two little girls aren’t ready to quiet down yet.  And I’m looking outside at this hot summer day ending…orange light reflecting on green leaves and baking on orange bricks and turning burnt grass to gold and trying to soak in the last of this day.  When it is dusk and the day is ending and the night beginning is when I recall all the things that are finite around me.

 

Littles only stay little for a time and they are growing in front of me quickly and quietly yet steadily and my mind is changing and shifting and realizing that maybe I don’t really know what I should be focusing on. 

I look around at the living room strewn with forgotten toys left after play…the kitchen with never-ending crumbs…outside with toys peeking out of buckets.  My everywhere is full of little lives and here is my own life that I’m not really sure I’m living – but I must be if I hear them laughing and playing and jumping and hugging me…feeling their little arms around me.

This life – the days run together into a quiet rhythm of cooking and cleaning and picking up and folding and sweeping so that all of a sudden it is dusk and I realize that a year has passed since I have been home with them.  I wish I had something profound to say – a way to hold onto this day as the light grows dim – but maybe that is the trouble with me anyway.  I always know what to say and when to say it and I’ve found these past months to be strangely without words. 

I write best when full of angst and this year has been one of the most profoundly peaceful and joyful periods of my life and like this sun fading I’m holding onto it with dear life unsure of how to process it all to say what it all means and to fold it deep into myself forever.

I can only be thankful for it all.  But isn’t thankfulness everything?  The first stars are appearing and I look up to them anticipating the gentle night ahead.  

To Be Known

If you know me, you know that I’m an outgoing person.  I love to laugh and talk and drink coffee while discussing every detail of my life.  If you have known me a long time, you know that I am pretty intense – I feel joy, anger, and excitement - all in about the same minute.  What you may not know about me is that I used to be a better friend than I am today.

You see, time and experience and my own internal struggles have led me to this point where I have become a shallow, and distant friend.  If you knew me then, you would have called me the “Cruise Director” as most of my friends did then.  I was always making plans to do this and that and everyone was invited.  I would get excited about even the most minute detail and ponder the event over and over and think of all the fun that we would have.  The event would come and I expected it all to be over the top, no matter what the experience.  I love trying new things – especially new foods.  Unfortunately on more than one occasion I’ve had to say, “This is not what I expected.”

If you were my friend then, I would have called you regularly – checked in more – just to find out how you were.  There was something in me that just had to know.  I had to know what made you tick, what your experience was that day – what you had for breakfast and what color shirt seemed like a good idea and did you wear those same earrings or something new?  Did you buy the shoes?  Did you talk to her about the same old thing?  How did that book make you feel?  I thrived on the simple day-to-day of who you were. 

But then my interactions with friends were not as frequent…plans not made, kept or reciprocated…phone calls unreturned.  Things were allowed to get the in the way – work, children, and who knows what.  My striving for those friendships was dashed – unreturned, unopened, unappreciated. 

I didn’t know it, but this slow process of drawing in began.  Drawing into this darkness and cold.  I am still friendly, still outgoing, but there is this part of me deep inside that assumes that we will never become better friends than these superficial masks that we wear and that my attempts at frequent contact and a real knowing with you will not happen.  And so I try less and less.  My faux list of Facebook friends grows and yet there is this horrible lonely part of myself that longs to be known.  Known by another like me or different...or intense like me or reserved unlike me – but really exposed to who this frozen soul is. 

How do I begin again?  How do I become that intense, angry, loud, boisterous, silly, fun, unpredictable person that I was?  How do I reach out and seek to know that part of you that also longs to be known – in this sisterhood of friendship so few of us dare to become initiated into?  I don’t know right now.  But I know I need to learn to walk the edge of this cliff again – fearing that one wrong step I could fall off, but fearing a greater danger of walking so far over to the solid ground that I cannot see the breathtaking view of the edge. 

When a Butterfly Dies

My Kayla – 6 years old – so full of life and creativity and imagination – full of wonder and love and passion for all things – today she watched a butterfly die.

We were at Target of all places – parked next to where a butterfly lay on the pavement – flapping its wings – trying to find its way. Kayla wanted to pick it up and maybe I should have let her – she could have put it in the grass…

Picture taken from http://www.butterflypictures.net/5-butterfly-pictures.html.

We went inside for about 30 minutes and came back out and the butterfly was still there – not a good sign. I think she mistook the wings blowing in the breeze to mean that it was still alive, but it was not.

Suddenly she realized that it was dead. She cried out in a loud voice, “Mommy, the butterfly is dead, it’s dead!” She started to sob. I tried to comfort her – hugging her, telling her it was going to be alright…but scarcely believing the words myself.

She put the butterfly in the soft grass. We knelt down with it and prayed that God would see the butterfly and know how special it was and that he would somehow give us peace even though such a beautiful thing was gone.

We got into the car and the questions overflowed with her streaming tears. “Why did it have to die, Momma? It was so young and beautiful.” My throat chokes, I search for words, none come. “I don’t know, “ I say softly.

“Why did it have to die, why, momma, why?” This same question over and over – ringing in my ears, I can barely take the pain in my heart.

I croak out the words that I can’t shake out of my mind, “We all die someday.”

“But it should have lived and had baby butterflies. It should have lived.”

All I can think is the same thing that she can’t let go of – “Yes, we should live – we should live forever.”

After the painful silence I can only manage to say, “God knows what happened to the butterfly. Somehow it will be OK.”

Inside my mind is screaming and reeling with the anger and knowing that we were meant to live forever, but this curse over us prevents us from living forever as God designed us. Yes, it makes no sense – especially in my sweet little girl’s mind. It should never make sense in any of our minds – death – it isn’t what we were meant to do.

Later on we are outside at home – a butterfly swirls around and around Kayla – the exact same type and coloring as the one that died. It circles her over and over as if to say, “I’m OK – God is watching over me.” She lifts her eyes to the heavens and watches it fly away.

The Road Stretched Out

It’s officially spring here in Southeast Michigan and with spring comes the itch in me for a good road trip. There is something about packing into the car with good road food, coffee, books and an atlas and heading out with the road stretched out before us.

I’ve always enjoyed a good road trip. One of the first that I remember was driving from Michigan to Vermont to visit my aunt and uncle. My grandparents and great aunt drove my brother, cousin, and I out there the summer we were 13 years old. I remember so many great details about the drive there and back that the time there, while fun, was not as notable. It was as if the journey itself was the joy and life of the trip. It is that sense of adventure and unknown that makes an ordinary destination a celebration of the gift of this life and freedom we have to roam.

We take many road trips every month to visit family about 90-150 miles away and while that keeps me somewhat satisfied, it’s the big road trips that refresh my soul…remind me that new, simple things are what keep me going – keep the excitement in the journey.

The road trip is a metaphor for life for me right now…this journey I’m on doesn’t have a clear cut or flashy destination. But I’m learning here in the quiet rhythm of everyday that it’s the sights, sounds, and experiences are what matters – as long as I keep looking for them – longing for them and looking out the window, but also inside to those faces I love so much. Its Zach telling me his new Easter clothes are “fantastic”…Abby making up cheerleader type moves as she keeps begging me for yogurt…Kayla making up silly songs and dancing around the living room while Zach and Abby follow along. It’s little hands around my neck, hugs so tight I can scarcely breathe, it’s Zach saying “I love you, my highness”, Kayla asking for me to put my arm around her. When I really take in these sights and sounds, I’m overcome with the gravity of it all – this journey – never passing this way again – each moment coming faster and faster like I’m watching the sunset and trying to hold each ray in my hand.

This thankfulness and humbleness does not flow from me as often or as intensely as it should. But I truly am thankful for this road stretched out before me – wherever it may lead.

As far as that big road trip…well, it has not been planned yet. But I’ll take the two small ones over the next two weeks and savor the journey to places and people that I love. And that is more than enough for this roaming soul.

Our Land

This post is dedicated to my brother Rich and his family who after 3 years in Africa are returning to the US for the next several months.

I’ve been reading a lot about heaven lately because I realize that I don’t know much about our eternal home. One book I’ve enjoyed reading with a friend is “Heaven” by Randy Alcorn. It has been a very surprising book to me in its discussion of the New Earth. It is definitely a worthy read, but intense at over 400 pages. However, that is NOT the focus of this post. What is the focus is this idea that during creation the earth was given to us to rule. Of course humankind has marred this land (and universe) with our own sin – causing chaos and degradation in everything we see. But what is so striking to me is the beauty that we can still observe around us.

Romans 1:20 says “20 For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.” God made this world good and we can learn more about who God is by what we see around us.

There is this part of me that longs for the earth and all that is in it to be restored and perfected as I know that it should be. That is God’s promise to us in the New Earth. What I’m excited about is that we can get those magnificent glimpses of beauty around us. There is a great song by U2 that captures that beauty – the beauty of this land around us – our land. This land is our Heartland – our motherland – the place that God has intrinsically connected to us, for we were made from the dust of it and we will forever be tied to it. But even more so, this is my homeland of which I believe U2 has so clearly captured those emotions and images in this song:

So, welcome home to my brother Rich and his family. We can’t wait to see you. As you travel through this Heartland over the next several months, know that God has made us to enjoy the beauty around us and we hope your hearts are at home here.

When There are No Words

As you can see, there have not been many words for me to share in this space. The last 5 months have been ones of change, introspection, trying new things, and many holidays and celebrations. But as I look outside and see spring sprouting and blooming, I realize that I need to renew my own thoughts and look for those words…ones that I have hidden and ones I have lost.

It is pure emotion that I often write from – joy, pain, ponderings. There have been many in this time when I was away, but when I considered recording them, I just couldn’t. It’s as if the words were not ready…still simmering or baking or maturing. That doesn’t mean that I suddenly have a great revelation to share, it only means that they are slowly showing their faces again…or maybe that I am beginning to look for them again in earnest. Maybe this whole time they have been waiting for me to get past my latest distraction so that they could remind me of what is really important…what I am really meant to do.

In truth, I was afraid to look for them…afraid to find what they wanted to reveal to me. I’ve learned some not so great things about myself during this time. I’ve learned that most days I’m selfish, that I look for ways to satisfy my own desires instead of serving others. I focus on things and push people and relationships to the side. I am task oriented and materialistic and those things get in the way of what I know should be my focus. Yet, I keep pushing away the revelations, the obvious answers right in front of me. The words in my head…the whispers of what to do. The words of the Holy Spirit – trying ever so gently to direct my path and me, choosing stubbornly to continue on my own way.

While I know this is my lesson, it does not mean that I fully know what to do about it, only that I’m on the first step of this change. While I cannot make any promises or commitments here, I only ask that you look at your own journey as I do the same. We all have great places to go – places that are counter cultural and odd, yet more meaningful than we ever could imagine. Let’s go together.

Working It Out

Today was not a good day. The kids were tired, I was exhausted. There was whining and crying and irritation and yelling and patience was absence and good manners had fled. We were left with the worst versions of ourselves and it showed in all that we did.

It was the typical ups and downs any of us would have in a given day no matter what we do. But for me, it just felt weightier. This job I do, it isn’t for someone else to profit from of which I get a small cut, it is for me, for our family, for our future, but most of all for them – these wonderful little people. And at times, I just don’t take it as seriously as I should. I become cold and unloving. I don’t hug or pick them up or read to them like I should. I focus on the tasks too much and the mothering too little and movies play too long and I start to realize that we are living only a shell of the life we should be living. It is overwhelming to consider the impact of repeating this kind of a day over and over and over.

Thank God in his infinite wisdom that he gave us night to rest and a new day to start again. So I’m looking at tomorrow in anticipation. There are no places to go, no deadlines to meet, no strict expectations except a day to be home and interact and learn and love and hug and be the best versions of who we were meant to be. I’m hoping that I can learn tomorrow what I want to live out in the days to come. Days that are quiet and purposeful and more than I could ever expect them to be. I’m working it out and God convicts me, but He is also gracious.

But for now, I bid you good night.

Not Home

This post is dedicated to my brother-in-law and his family. Your pain is unthinkable and I am praying for your comfort and peace.

Fall in Michigan is one of the most beautiful times of the year. The best way to see the fall colors to me is to take a drive. I had the opportunity to take a long drive a few days ago and the color and bright sunlight truly made everything I saw the picture of fall splendor. Reds, oranges, and yellows illuminated by the more than usual orangey / yellow sunlight – beautiful, bright colors everywhere I could see.

I couldn’t help but thinking on that drive that everything was right in the world and these beautiful colors and sunny day were a gift from God to me and everyone else. But I couldn’t fully enjoy it as I thought about close relatives and friends going through unthinkable tragedy and loss. To add to the discomfort I learned the next day about a young woman (21 years old) who works with orphans in Uganda who has personally adopted 13 girls. I think of friends and relatives and acquaintances who are dealing with the mental or physical disorders that plague their children and I am overcome with grief. I am reminded that this world with its glimpses of beauty all around is also home to pain, suffering, agony, and injustice and I can’t shake it off fully to enjoy what God made good in creation.

This is not our home. Yet, it is the only home we have ever known and we really think that we are comfortable here, until we are reminded of all that is not right. God whispering in our ears, showing us that we must love and help others, reminding us that even if it doesn’t make sense, that his plan is better than ours.

So, I’m thinking of those hurting today and wishing I could explain away the pain or offer words of comfort or say that somehow it will be OK, but the truth is, that some things won’t ever be OK. Our time here is so short and eternity is so long and if we don’t do whatever is insanely possible to bring everyone we can with us to the home they were meant to go to, then what are we doing that really counts?

I look at my life and how comfortable I am and yet I sense the discomfort creeping up around me. I don’t know how to be dangerous for God and maybe he isn’t asking for me to get on a plane and fly far away to make a difference, but I realize as each day passes, that I must find a way. I have to find a way.

Maybe I already make a difference, but I don’t see how and I just pray that God reveals to me that I can and do impact his kingdom, even from my little corner. And if I am not, please show me God how to reach out and do the work you have asked me to do. Because I am not home and as the days go by I realize that I need to learn more about my real home, about where I’m looking to go, because sometimes the pain here is too much to bear.

Thoughtful Tuesday 10/4/11

Every Tuesday I try to put something out here to get us all thinking about different ways to approach this life. Let’s think countercultural, against the norm, “weird”, unpopular, but most of all thought provoking.

I’ve been very conscious about how it seems that my words don’t match my actions these days. I have the incredible gift of being home with my children every day. I tell them I love them, but it seems that my actions, at times, tell a different story. How do I get past this? What can I do to turn it all around?

How do you demonstrate that you love the people around you in everything that you do?

90 Days

Like many of you, I’ve had my share of jobs in different industries, with different schedules, and with a myriad of different expectations placed on me. But one thing each job had in common was the infamous “90 day probationary period”. That critical time where the company is supposedly watching you to ensure that you are worth keeping for the long haul.

Here I am now at home; formulating my own job, schedule, rules, and expectations and that 90 days is looming on the horizon. I can’t help but asking myself, what have I learned during this time and am I doing this job well?

 I have learned that:

• A young toddler on the potty is not likely to stay on the potty, and neither is what comes out of the young toddler.
• An older toddler that is potty training will repeatedly have accidents even when he is given the “rules” for what to do.
• Toddlers who like to climb and open doors are likely to fall and/or escape.
• The smiles and laughs of my children are the most beautiful sights and sounds I can and will experience in a day.
• It’s the little moments of focused attention with each one of them that keeps them happy and content through the day.
• Coffee with my kids is fun and insightful. (And don’t worry, not too caffeinated.)
• If I demand respect in a loving way from my oldest, she gives it politely.
• Trusting the kids to go outside on their own builds my trust in them and gives them independence they need to succeed in life.
• Anything that can go wrong in the kitchen will. (But it has always been that way with me anyway.)
• Dishes will always be dirty, laundry will always need to be folded, and there will always be crumbs and hair where there should not be. But I will not always have this moment to hug and kiss and dance with my babes.
• Each day is a gift and no matter how simple must be treasured and purposeful.
• I need to be thankful for each moment as they are slipping between my fingers like sand.

I’m not sure if I were to be rated by an outside, unbiased source if I would fare too well for this 90 day period – I yell too much and I get angry over silly things, but I always apologize and forgive and seek to be forgiven.

These 90 days have been a wonderful gift – something I will treasure in my heart in the days ahead as the seasons change and new adventures in mommyhood unfold.

The Block

So you may have noticed that I haven’t been around for awhile. I wish I had a good reason to explain why, but I just don’t. I think that the best explanation has to be writer’s block…but more accurately - fear.

I’ve been avoiding my little corner of cyberspace using stale, old excuses: too tired, don’t know when to fit it in, don’t know what to say. But the truth of the matter is that I’m hiding behind this wall, feeling like I can’t reach back through it…doubting my ability to write anymore.

You see, leaving my job was a huge step for me and I truly believe the right thing to do. However, the circumstances that lead up to it still have me doubting myself in many areas and I just can’t quite shake it all. I’ve been praying and writing down ideas for what to say out here, but my doubts and insecurities keep trash talking to my I-just-went-through-a-major-life-change mind.

So maybe it was writer’s block, but maybe not; but the point I’m trying to make right here is that I have more to say and I’m figuring out how to say it all and I hope that you still want to read and I appreciate your grace and your patience. So, I’ll say this quietly, I’m baaaacckkkk.

I’ve Been Waiting



This morning I woke up to the sound of birds chirping and the sound of a sweet baby voice saying, “Mama, mama?” The air was just cool enough, the birds chattering and singing their morning songs. I’ve been waiting for a morning like this – waiting for one that reminds me of why I’m here, what is important. The weeks of living in the constant hum of the air conditioning – with its artificial air, chilling temps, and muffled barrier between me and the real world has taken its toll. (Don’t get me wrong, air conditioning is a wonderful gift that I’m very thankful for – it has just run too long.) It has gotten to the point that I’m looking forward to fall just so we can have the windows open.


There is something about hearing the night sounds – crickets and the scurry of bugs and little animals, seeing the moon shining into an open window, smelling night fall and then waking up to the earth starting over again, birds singing, the smell of the dew, the sun streaming through an open window – the cool air floating into the house. The smell of morning – distinct from its nightly counterpart.


Here is where I am at peace – here is where a new day with mercies new begins and don’t I need it – don’t we all? I’m grateful that God in his wisdom made night for us to sleep – because wouldn’t we be in a bigger mess if He had not?


So today I’m listening to the chirps and the morning dove “who’s” and letting the sun shine on my face and shivering a bit in the damp, morning air, listening to the gentle melodic sound of the wind chimes and taking it all in. Breathing new life and a fresh start. Won’t you join me outside this morning?

100 Years


Today we celebrated our Great Aunt’s 100th birthday. I’ve never known or met anyone who is 100 years old. The party was very nice – a lunch where about 175 family members and friends gathered to eat lunch and celebrate this great lady’s life. Her daughter put together a book with her story including pictures, fun facts and great stories about the unique and wonderful person that she is. I read through the book – I’m a sucker for history – but even more – the personal history of a family member that I know mostly by reputation.

This wonderful woman graduated from high school at age 76 and went white water rafting in her 80’s. When her husband died 30 years ago, she bought a new lawn mower since she knew she would be keeping up the lawn going forward. She loves parties and traveling. How great is that?

Reading through this book and looking at all the pictures and just being there – seeing all of the smiling faces celebrating her life – it got me thinking – what is the story of my life? What will people write about me when I am advanced in years? What will be the unique things about me – my impression, the person I am, the thing that makes my reputation precede me?

So much has changed for me in the last month and I finally feel like what I’m doing everyday has eternal significance – I’m taking care of my children and our household – concentrating on being there – my whole person – in this place at this time. I’ve never been interested in what was culturally popular or interesting or notable and being in this position runs counter to what the world says is interesting. So the big question is, what will my children write as the story of my life? What will stand out to them?

I hope that they write about how much I love them about how I could be wacky and fun sometimes, how I would do anything for them, how I broke the rules sometime just to mix it up a bit. I hope most of all that they see Jesus through me. I will never be perfect, but I hope they feel God’s love through me and find a way to carry that with them through their days.

The book of your days – it is being written right now – what do you want to say?

Thoughtful Tuesday 7/26/11 Every Tuesday I try to put something out here to get us all thinking about different ways to approach this life. Let’s think countercultural, against the norm, “weird”, unpopular, but most of all thought provoking. I do my best thinking in the car – even short trips with the sound of children playing and yelling in the background. Today I thought about change – how we know it’s coming and even though we know, we are never adequately prepared. Change rarely just affects us, but everyone around us and what can we possibly do to prepare ourselves for the reactions we get from other people? Is it even possible? Me staying at home has changed many people and my relationship with all of them is changing. I’m notoriously terrible with keeping in touch with people even when I think of them often. How do I keep up with these changes and keep in touch? Is it possible that the evolution that is occurring could bend or break those relationships? How do I know when to keep going on or let go? Maybe some of the answers to these questions are simple or just take time to figure out, but please share your thoughts here. I know that many of you have insight that I need. Thanks.

The First Week Thanks everyone for being patient with me while I was quiet this past week. You see, this past week was the first week I was home with all three of my kids in this new stay at home mom role. And what a week it was! Now, you are probably thinking I’m going to tell you about the highs and lows of last week – well, sure – that is sort of the point, but the first thing you need to know is how peaceful and quiet it was. I’ve been home with the kids off and on for many reasons over time – vacations, daycare shutdowns and illnesses, but there was something very different about this time – this week. I shutdown Facebook, kept email quiet, and tried to keep my normal distractions to the bare minimum and I concentrated on just enjoying them. Focused on taking these little people in my life as they are in each moment. When my sister Kim first came home to her kids about a year ago, she told me, “You know how people say that there is so much you miss when you are not home? Well, there is SO.MUCH.THAT.YOU.MISS.” Her words cut me to the core and I couldn’t get them off my mind for weeks. Here is what I missed: Big girl Kayla telling me I’m the best mom in the world along with “nothing was fun today” nearly every day last week. This girl dreams big and wants that “super fun thing” to do every day. She is so much like me, I can barely stand it. I can’t help but love her. Three year old Zach’s little arms around me saying “I love you mommy” along with “I want daddy! When is daddy going to be home – I don’t want you!” He’s definitely daddy’s boy, but I won’t let him get away with it – he’ll always be my wonderful boy. Sweet Abby’s head snuggling into my chest before naptime along with the screams of pain from falling hard into the ottoman. I’ve never seen a cut and bump so large on such a little chin. But this is Abby in all her glory – all girl, all wiggly toddler, all fun, no fear. The endless diapers – diaper ping pong between Zach and Abby – I’m telling you – it’s a conspiracy! Explosive diarrhea – somebody had to have it, right? Daily dishes. Mountains of laundry. Coupons to be cut. Littles to love and kiss and hug and comfort and read to and snuggle and just cherish – no matter what, just to love in each moment. I missed all those things. While I know none of it is glamorous – it doesn’t matter. It all means something – it is all significant, it is all eternal. This week is the beginning of our new life and I’m ready and willing and able and most of all HERE, fully. No distractions, no other priorities – just HERE. Quiet, listening, peaceful, thankful for this wonderful gift. On to week two!

The Swing Kayla and I went to the park in the woods today. She played on the playscape a bit and then we both decided to swing on the old, sturdy, metal swing set – the kind they had when I was a kid. As I climbed higher and higher I was surprised at how airborne I was and how every time I swung up how I hit that brief “sweet spot” where for a moment I was free falling. It was breathtaking and terrifying all at the same time. I kept up the pace for awhile amazed at how frightened I was. As we walked back home, I realized that right now, I’m in the “sweet spot” of life. I’ve risen up pretty high up until this point and now I’m not quite falling and I’m not headed back down. I’m floating in space and completely out of control. My whole life is in limbo – everything I’ve known in my professional life is different – I’m no longer working. I’ve wanted to be home with the kids for some time, but we were not ready for that financial change. Through a series of unforeseen events, I’m no longer working and happy, thrilled, terrified, and hopeful all at the same time – I’m floating and looking around at the top of the trees in wonder of what can be. When I got off that swing, I was surprised that my head hurt, but maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. When God allows changes to shift your whole mindset, it definitely hurts a bit, but the end result is always worth it. So, I’m giving up on controlling it all, because I have to. Instead, I’m looking forward to each new day as a way to see and view this world as He has called me to see it.

Thoughtful Tuesday 7/12/11 It seems time to start a regular series out here, so I’ve decided to start Thoughtful Tuesday. I’ll try to put something out here to get us all thinking about different ways to approach this life. Let’s think countercultural, against the norm, “weird”, unpopular, but most of all thought provoking. Why do we decide to store up money in terms of savings, financial investments, retirement funds, etc. when we don’t really know how long our life will last? I’m not advocating irresponsibility, here, just trying to get a handle on why cultural norms tell us to do this. What happened to relying on God? What happened to relying on others to give to us as we have been called to give and support them? When did we as a society become so segmented and “self reliant”? Looking forward to the discussion.

Windfall Windfall – when we see that word, we think of money – an unexpected availability of money. While windfalls like that are nice, they are typically short lived and we usually don’t remember where the money went. I’ve found myself in an unusual type of windfall these days – a windfall of time – time with family, friends, and my kids. This type of windfall has never really happened to me and quite frankly, I don’t quite know what to do about it. My initial thoughts are to take each day at a time, savor it, be thankful and intentional in all that I do and it’s got me thinking – why don’t I always do that? Why don’t I take this gift of time and spend it with others – really being there and engaging myself with them? Time spent like this tends to be a strange mixture of joy, pain, chaos, and an overarching amount of intensity. I welcome it, yet fear the emotional toll it will put on me. But I’m here - standing on the precipice of it and praying that I spend this time wisely because like everything, we never really know how long it will last. So, I ask that you pray for me as I am in this windfall of time. I’m very thankful for it and want it to be permanent, but don’t currently understand how it can last. Thank you.