The Magnitude of Folding Undergarments Don't be alarmed by the name of this post. I won't be sharing scary stories about my own undergarments or (even scarier) my husband's. Last night, I was folding my daughter's clothes - excited (probably more than she) over all the cute things she just got for her birthday. That crisp little white skirt with the aqua polo embroidered with little hearts - brilliant! If only they made things so perfectly cute for me (and I could actually wear them without looking childish). That was when I stumbled upon them while aimlessly reaching into the basket - 7 pair of little undergarments - pictures of Disney princesses on them. I picked up the first one, folded it and was shocked at how small it was. Mystified by how such a tiny package was about to make such a big impact on me. You see, she hasn't actually worn them yet. I bought them in preparation for the diaper free utopia I hope to experience in the near future. But as I continued to fold each one, I couldn't believe how tiny they were - each little brightly colored nub stacked on top of each other - in contrast to what they represented - the end of the diaper and wipe era. "She's growing up," I thought. What?!?! How could this be happening? Today it's panties, tomorrow it's her first car?!?! I was overcome - the tears started welling up. In a word, I was vehklempt! I had the urge to hide them away - or worse, toss them into the trash with all of the other things I'm vainly attempting to avoid. But I did what I was supposed to (I'm a rule follower at heart - but will break rules in the spirit of the right thing to do). I put them perfectly folded into the basket to put in her drawer the next day. The top drawer - next to the silly infant hats that I can't part with even though they never fit her wibbly, wobbly head and the 75 barettes she refuses to wear. So the magnitude of undergarments you ask? The magnitude is the fact that my baby just turned 2. If you don't have children, this doesn't sound like a very long time, but for those of you that do, you know it is a lifetime. A lifetime of constant newness, of mindblowing changes, of ultimate highs of the first smile, laugh, "Love you, Mama" and ultimate lows of sleepless nights and a child in pain. My heart swelling and overflowing with love and breaking all at the same time. An indescribable journey of matchless joy. As far as my own undergarments, well, they just aren't worth mentioning.

Papers and Pens and Journals, Oh My! Office supplies...the mere mention brings a dreamy smile to my face while visions of brightly colored, sparkly gel pens float in my head. Memories of the smell of sharpies...the crisp feeling of paper in my hand. The rich, musky smell of a leather bound journal. My adhesive in hand, my reflection mirrored back in the silver paper trimmer. Ahhhh...what else is there in life? Even more wonderful - the feeling of cracking open a hard bound book for the first time. I sometimes wonder if they make books extra crispy for me! Or better yet, the feeling of a paperback held firmly in my hand as I devour the pages. It is ironic that the paper and pen medium appeals to me so much. I probably have about 20 journals, of which I've written in maybe 5 or 6. But I keep buying them. I just can't help myself. My latest purchase was a red leather one with a heart embossed on the front. I was captivated by the thick scent beckoning me from under the plastic wrapping...it was more expensive than the others, but I kept coming back to show my affection. In the end it enticed me by wearing its heart on its sleeve. I was consumed! OK, OK, I'm not completely obsessed, it actually is in use - my husband and I write love notes back and forth in it. Sometimes I just pick it up and pet its beautiful, embossed cover. You little rascal, I hear you calling me now! Perhaps you will get your wish my pretty - hubby deserves a love note today. Back to the irony - it is ironic how I really believe I will write in the journals - that I will use that new pen that feels so perfect in my hand and glides so effortlessly over the pages, but alas, both collect dust. Instead I'm here in cyberspace. Clicking away on my keyboard in a relatively sterile smelling office (where is that coffee candle when I need it?) with the shadow of an overflowing pencil cup in my peripheral vision. Here is where I can share my thoughts...here is where I can scrupulously edit each sentence with the miracle of spell and grammar check. Here is where I can make that font LARGER! Who could have dreamed of such perfection? Typing almost as quickly as the thoughts go through my head...fingers perched on the home keys...the white glow of the monitor warming my heart. I guess it is official...I'm a geek...I'm a blogger now...I've moved to the next dimension. At least for now... Oh maybe tomorrow that cute little white joural with the purple flower on it will have its day, the purple gel pen patiently waiting by its side. Maybe the 5 books I'm in the process of reading will experience the joy of living their purpose - being read by a person instead of rotting in a drawer! But for now I continue to type...or maybe it's off to Amazon where I can browse the books, quietly clicking to turn the pages.

The Sound of Silence It is not often when you have a small child that you can truly envelop yourself in silence. Yet today is one of those rare moments when my husband is not home and my daughter is asleep. Ironically still is that there are no environmental sounds - the soft thud, thud of the dryer, the swish and drain of the dishwasher...nothing. The only sound I hear is the occasional soft, sweet sighs of Kayla as she drifts deeper into sleep. How sweet and calming this is. It used to be that I wouldn't let myself enjoy such a peaceful moment. Shouldn't I be doing something? Cleaning, ironing, washing dishes, making a neglected phone call, emailing pictures, sending invitations. No...not tonight. Tonight I'm quiet...at least for now. Listening. God has given me this moment to hear him and I'm listening for the still, small voice. Have you heard God talking? Have you listened for that voice? Maybe you expected something else...something loud and dramatic. That is what the world wants us to think. The loudest voice drowns out all others - the biggest, flashiest object gets our attention. But is that what we really want to have? Is that really what we need? We were recently at Disney World and I remember thinking in amazement that a vacation here is the highlight of many people's year. I'm not saying that this is a bad thing - it was enjoyable to be there and there was much fun to be had. But I was thinking of people that obsess about being there, that this place is the one bright spot for them to look forward to. It is as if for some people the fantasy land that exists there is preferred over what real life is. Somehow this struck me as sad. We are so wrapped up in what we see and can feel and touch and experience that we sell ourselves out for created treasures rather than unseen treasures that only God can give us. What are those treasures? What about freedom from worry or fear, a mind at rest, peaceful sleep, hope in all things, joy in all circumstances. As you seek to know who God is personally (not through the eyes of others) these things will come. I looked at the people around us thinking of the motto of Disney World, "Where Dreams Come True." What is your dream? For a child maybe it does involve meeting their favorite character at Disney. But as an adult, my dream is to leave a legacy of love and respect to my children - for them to know that the ultimate dream and fantasy is not Cinderella's Castle, but the streets of gold in heaven. For them to experience the treasures of knowing who God really is. So for now I'm listening...listening for the purpose that God has put me here. Listening for the dreams I have to come true with his help. Silently embracing the treasures he has given me.