How Les Miserables Saved Me

The last couple of weeks have been pretty stressful for me (hence my absence here in the blogosphere). I’ve let too many things get to me on a personal level that shouldn’t affect me, normally don’t affect me. The bottom line is that I allowed the burdens of this life to overtake me for this period of time and it negatively affected me in many ways. I broke out in hives, I couldn’t sleep well, I was nauseous. I was angry, snapped at my family, and avoided people.

The days were heavy, dark, tedious, drudgery. The thankfulness was gone and consequently the joy. I was really struggling with a lot of things…more than I cared to admit.

You see, we all say things we don’t mean – we say that people, situation, things “drive us crazy”. I’ve tried very hard for a long time to avoid saying things like that because I believe very strongly in the power of words to affect you, to change you, to break you down. And yet, these last couple of weeks my tongue was going through some type of adolescent rebellion and I did not do a thing to keep it in check. So I believe that I was starting to live under the curses of those words I was speaking.

I believe that is how the enemy works – he starts chipping away at your mind. There is some mental illness in my family and there was a little part of me that kept asking the question, “Am I next?” What an awful lie to believe. The battleground is the mind and I was letting mine be setup for the massacre.

A few days ago we went to see Les Miserables. This is mine and Jerry’s favorite play. I was anxious and tense and was doing my best to snap out of it so I could enjoy myself. About half way through the first act I begged God to forgive me. I told Him I couldn’t handle these things any more – I couldn’t hold onto these burdens and I desperately needed His peace. And as I opened my eyes, His peace washed over me. Instantly the tension was gone. I held Jerry’s hand.

We watched the play – my favorite song – when Fantine dies – “Come to Me” did not make me cry as it normally does. Towards the end of the play – I was taken by surprise – strangely, like I have been nearly every other time I have watched it by the words that I love so dearly – the words that have settled this work of art into my heart forever. The main character, Jean Val Jean is dying and as he joins Fantine and Eponine in heaven singing, he turns and says, “To love another person is to see the face of God.” My tears fell down as I realized that I truly don’t get it. I do not see God because I do not love. My heart is cold and God is absent when I do not love.

All of this pain, this turbulence, this instability that I’ve been fighting – it was because love was absent. This overwhelming thought settled into my brain. I became resolute to find a way to love at all times, all places, all circumstances. I don’t know how I’m going to do this, but I know that I must.

So Les Miserables – “the miserable” – the miserable experiences, people, circumstances – they truly are the things that will save me – if only I have love.

Thankful During the Thankless Times

Last weekend was from all appearances a disaster. We attempted a road trip to visit my parents and on the way, little Abby threw up in the car. We thought it best to go home – and I believe it was the right thing to do. I started fighting waves of nausea later that evening and fought hard to keep from throwing up. (I can’t stand to vomit – I will do just about anything to keep it from happening.)

At about 2am, I just sat in the bathroom and prayed…the waves of nausea crashing into me – relentlessly. As I implored God to spare me, my prayer turned to praise. I began thanking him – the unthinkable in that moment – it just overflowed from me. I thanked him that I had not been sick, that we were home, that none of the other kids were sick, that they were sleeping peacefully. And strangely enough, I thanked him for being sick. I don’t remember the rest – I think that extreme fatigue set in at that point and after a period of nothing, I crawled back into bed.

I never did get sick and none of the rest of us did either, thank God. And as I lay in bed the next day – still fighting the after affects, I marveled at how this God could move me to praise him at one of my lowest moments. Surely His ways are above our ways and He always deserves our praise.

How has God moved you to praise him in unthinkable circumstances?

How Can I Make a Difference? I’ve been asking myself the question a lot lately – how can I make a difference in this world? It seems as though I have this charmed life – at least by cultural standards. The house, the car, the 3 cute kids, the awesome husband, the good job. And all of those things are good and I’m very grateful for what I have. But I’ve been asking myself lately – is this it? Is there more to this life? I feel most alive when I’m at home with my children – seeing the world through their eyes. Then I look beyond that and see a world in so much pain – atrocities happening every minute – tragedies in faraway lands, so many without so much and I keep asking myself – how can I make a difference? I believe that God has put me here in this place and during this time for a purpose, but I’ve only begun to see glimpses of it. I haven’t put all of the pieces together and that must mean that I am not ready to. But there is one thing that is for sure – I’m starting to squirm a little bit, to stir, to realize that things can’t just stay the same. I’m not sure that means that I get on a plane and go to Africa, although I admire those who do it. It could be as simple as creating the community here that God wants me to create – to serve and love others so that they can begin to know who he is. But where do I begin? What do I need to do? One of my favorite bands of all time, Jars of Clay say it best with a song from their new CD – the song – “Small Rebellions”, the album “The Shelter.” Here is the story behind the song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JPz0UASNV1A&feature=mfu_in_order&list=UL I don’t claim to know the answers to my questions, yet. But I’ll keep praying and starting to make the small changes that I believe God wants me to make while looking for the big ones that I’m sure are around the bend.

Looking for Green Things When I was a little girl, one of the things I loved most was exploring our yard during the spring and summer. Our house was about 20-25 years old at that point and there was so much vegetation on the perimeter of the yard that there was always something new to discover. Spring was always exciting – buds popping out here, flowers pushing through the earth there. Now that I’m older I’m teaching my kids to look for green things in our yard. Already there are tiny daffodils, hyacinths, tiger lilies, and lily of the valley barely pushing through the dirt. If you look closely at the trees, tiny buds are appearing. Birds are chirping, worms are wiggling, bugs are scurrying. If you look hard enough the earth is coming alive right in front of you. These seasons – I’ve never realized until this year how attached I am to the changes they bring. Winter is my least favorite season, but the beginning of it this past year was cleansing, exciting to me. I can’t say enough about this spring. Being outside tonight with the kids sharing their excitement in finding these green things – Abby’s laugh as she was swinging, Zach going head first down the slide, Kayla searching for worms under rocks – this is what life is all about. So many other parts of my life have turned to drudgery and the last few days I haven’t let this joy, this discovery of what is most important penetrate through the sludge. But today the light finally broke through. This is the year of joy, right? Enter in – JOY – my heart and hands are open.

Still There I saw something 3 months ago – something I will never forget. All of you know about it as I have written about it before. But here we are – there is something about that incident that is still there in my mind, my consciousness. You see, there was a hearing and soon there will be a trial and I know that I will be involved. I was called to the hearing to testify, but I waited and I did not talk, but I could see in the courtroom. I could see the person that did this. And I know I’m a strong person and I would like to think that this does not affect me – this does not rule my life – this does not cast a shadow over me. But the truth is painful to realize… The truth is that this thing affects me more than I care to admit – more than I allow myself to process, to face. The last couple of days have seemed greyer – the rain doesn’t help. Everywhere I see signs of spring – tiny flowers poking up from the ground, geese and ducks making nests, frail buds on trees. I’ve been looking forward to this time for so long. Each season brings a refreshing change to me that invigorates my soul. This is a change that I need so much – that I refuse to let go of – that I refuse to let the darkness of this experience touch. But it is doing that – just a little bit. The first step to healing is admitting the problem, right? So I’m admitting to you, friends. I’m not strong enough alone to get through these things and I ask for your prayers. Deep down I am at peace – I know God is watching over me – his faithfulness I never question. Thank you.

Lightening Fast This journey of motherhood has changed me in more ways than one. I’m a person that loves structure, routine and predictability. All three of those went out the window when sweet Kayla Beba came along almost 6 years ago. Two more kids later and it continues to be a whirlwind of chaos. These three babes have made me a better person and I’m so grateful. While we’ve established routines and structure along the way as they have grown there is still so much unpredictability on a daily basis – sometimes good – beautiful pictures created or new found skills, sometimes bad – never ending poo. What continually takes my breath away however is the speed at which this life is flying past me. It is a much more dramatic pace now as I watch these wee ones grow, change, and experience this life. I was really good recording their milestones when they were babies and even kept a 1 year guided journal for all three of them. But now that they are older, I’m having a hard time keeping up with everything new and exciting that happens on a daily basis. I’m trying so hard to stop and take mental snapshots of these new things – Abby’s mischievous smile, Zach’s funny comments, Kayla’s dramatic stories. Try as I might, I can’t slow down these experiences – they flash before me lightening fast. I grasp at them in vain and leave with only a tiny glimmer of what they were. And even though it feels like it will never be enough – at least I have that tiny flash of a memory tucked deep into my heart. We laugh and sing and dance together and I feel as though my heart will burst with love for these three. I push away the thoughts of the future and days when they will leave me and focus so hard on living in the now – capturing this joy. There will never be another day like today. I’m so humbled to be in this place…this holy ground where God allows me to feel this overwhelming love for my children. I’m so thankful that I opened my heart to this possibility – to throw caution to the wind and allow them to live and grow in me and close to me.

Sibling Surprises Each child we have had has brought many surprises – things that make us laugh, cry, and just look at each other in wonder. But the most surprising aspect of having more than one child is how they interact as siblings. I am surprised when they hug each other, comfort each other, and find ever new ways to play together. I am in awe of the relationships these little people have with each other and the joy they bring to our home. But I shouldn’t really be surprised – I’m from a large family – there are 5 of us – 2 boys and 3 girls. Our house was always loud and exciting and there was always someone to play with and something to do. I don’t recall watching much TV growing up and I count that as a huge blessing. These other 4 people – we laughed and cried together, built a whole basement full of tents, dug a swimming pool together (if only for a day), rode bikes, went camping and for better or for worse, always had each other. And now here we are – years later – spread across the country and some of us – on the other side of the world. This sibling love goes on – but it is different now – richer, more understanding, easily picking up where we left off and always funny. Twin brother – so far away, but close to my heart – doing the work he was always meant to do…we are both writing, but in such different ways. I knew the day in high school when you left on a trip with a friend that was the beginning of our times apart and I cried. Little brother – my “partner” when we played – always zany and unique and unexpected. So awesome to see the loving dad you are. Little sister – the one I waited for, prayed for as a child – holding your little hands in the car squeezed into the seat belt, playing Barbie’s – everything – “just like Jenny”. What kindred spirits we are – having children the same day. I never knew you wanted to be just like me THAT much! Little bunny – pictures of me holding you – your nose always running - I remember changing your diapers and taking you out of your play pen, silverware families, and lots and lots of beauty pageants watched. You are beautiful inside and out. The four of you – I admit, I take you for granted (and I don’t mean to), but I can’t imagine this life without you. You are truly my best friends. These sibling surprises – these gifts of who you are that God has given me – I’m so grateful for you. I have a dream of a day when we all spend a vacation together by a lake just like when we were younger – sunshine and campfires and time spent together. I believe that day is coming soon. Dream with me. I love you all.

Harsh Light Winter is still holding on around these parts and it isn’t too surprising. In Michigan you can expect to see snow fly anytime between now and in some rare instances the beginning of May. But I’m surprised by the “big snows” we had last week. It seems about this time last year, the thaw started. I may even recall seeing the first robin around the first week in March…but I digress. There are so few sunny days this time of year that when they do come, I stand up and take notice. I’ve found that the sun shines harshly this time of year. It’s a different kind of light then what you see in the summer. Summer’s sunlight is more orange – warmer – not as in how it feels (although the temperature is a factor) but in how it looks. Winter’s sunlight is harsh and pale yellow – almost white. I think it makes me squint harder trying to take it all in – my eyes almost rejecting it. I’ve found that this harsh light shines on days I don’t want it too…sad days when we bury family members, friends, loved ones. Its harsh light – something we would welcome any other time of the year – makes it colder and stark. Instead of shining on us – it shines through us. It’s a different kind of sunlight. But I do not control the weather and the sun and somehow in the middle of those tough times, God must know that we need this light – even as harsh as it is. So I still take notice on these sunny days and try to understand what they mean and take it all in. For my all knowing God who sees the whole picture gave it to me this day and I can be thankful for it – capture that joy – transcend the harshness.

Tearing it Apart I’m often inspired by songs and I can’t get the song Fireflies and Songs by Sara Groves out of my head. What strikes me about the song is the idea of tearing apart a music box to find a song. Of course, in the process of doing so, the music box no longer plays. I feel like lately I’m tearing apart this life…layer by layer getting to what is supposed to be my focus, my center, the most important thing. So much is happening around me – I feel like I’m being swept away – pulled in so many directions. I’m to the point where I feel like if I keep pulling on these layers I will be at a breaking point. Yet somehow my center stays calm – as if I’m watching the chaos from a safe place. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect me…I become angry, tired, irritated, I cry too easily, I’m pessimistic. It’s so hard to see past the pieces of this broken life around me. I keep tearing apart the pieces of this life looking for my purpose when God has really only called me to be still and know Him. To take these experiences good, bad, ugly, beautiful, thoughtful, awe-inspiring and to just know Him – experience Him, love Him. Love Him through the eyes of my children – seeing the joy on their faces, becoming part of their creative, no boundaries world. Love Him through the wonder He has given us in this world - I look up at the stars in a crisp cold night and know that He is there. This swirling, whirling world keeps moving so fast and all my efforts to tame it, control it, bluster through it in my anger and pain will never work. Instead I’m staying still – I’m done tearing it apart. I decide today to let the music play.

Love for the Latte

What can I say? I’m in love with my latte. It greets me in the morning – frothy, tasty, and warm in my hand pushing out the cold, slowly waking me up. This love for the latte – I can’t imagine a day without it. However, I’m guessing like most of you, I wasn’t born a coffee drinker.

I started drinking coffee in my teens – I remember my first cup – my Dad handed it over to me and asked, “Do you want anything in it?” It seemed like a test – so I paused…cream seemed safe. Sugar…that didn’t seem quite right… I drank a few sips black…I held back my pucker face. I stirred in the cream. “Better?” he asked and I nodded. Somehow I knew I had to get through that cup. I was definitely not a “regular” yet.

Fast forward to college – I didn’t know it yet, but I was about to experience the holy grail of coffee shops – Water Street Coffee Joint. The original location – across the street from Bell’s Brewery in Kalamazoo is what all coffee shops should aspire to be. Quirky and quaint in a tiny, old converted gas station near the train tracks, the original building was so small, 2-3 people could barely stand in line to order at the same time. The sunshine logo in yellow and orange with the cobalt blue background and mug were perfect (still is). We were always crammed in and sometimes you could not find a seat – but you waited anyway. Their mocha was the stuff Folgers coffee dreams of being when it grows up and starts wearing makeup and dressing fancy. The fresh cream (lightly flavored with vanilla) alone was enough to make you want suck down that heart racing, rich chocolately dream drink. Jerry did not drink coffee UNTIL he had a Water Street Mocha. He was converted – right then and there.

True story – we went to Chicago during those years and went to Starbuck’s for the first time. We both ordered mochas – mistake number one. What we didn’t know then that we know now is that a Starbuck’s mocha in my opinion is their worst latte drink. We didn’t finish our drinks – it tasted like –*gasp* the fast food of coffee!

Fast forward to now – I’ve been converted to Starbucks. Maybe I have gone backwards on the coffee snob continuum by admitting this fact, but it is all about the love of the latte. Give me sugar free vanilla and breve with that kickin espresso and that first sip is divine – every time. We have duplicated it on our home machine and I have my cobalt blue mug and saucer where I sit and pine away…remembering the days at Water Street. If we lived closer, I would be there…

Enjoy your coffee today, friends.

Dear God, The weight of these circumstances threaten to overtake me – another day of missed work due to a sick child, the plans unmade for summer care for Kayla, serious illness threatening a close family member, recent passing of a relative. It has been one thing after another for us and I’m tempted to be wound up, angry, hopeless, thankless. My gratitude journal is missing two days worth of entries. If I don’t capture those things – this thankfulness that leads to joy – I know they will be gone forever, but I just can’t seem to do it today. I’m sorry, God, I’m trying to carry all of these things and I know I’m not supposed to, but I’m at such a loss right now. I’m craving normalcy, but change all at the same time. I don’t know what my future holds, but I know that you do. So I’m sitting over here – praying against this anger, this hopelessness and I know you are listening, but I can’t help but crying out this frustration. I hope you are feeling patient because I’ll be handing you over a bunch of things today. Love, Jenny

It’s Almost Here It’s almost here…warm, windy days, flowers pushing through the earth, robins chirping and yet this glimpse of spring today is something I’m having a hard time accepting. Fifty degrees in mid February is more of a tease than something to be embraced as reality. To those that don’t watch the calendar – today looks every bit like an early March day – wind whipping and wind chime slamming, sunshiny, snow melting day. But I’m just not ready yet. Back in January I said I was looking forward to spring and yet here I am the skeptic – resisting the urge to take a walk, to let the sun shine on my face. Why is this thing called change – even a change that brings hopes and light and fresh breeze so hard to embrace? I feel the breeze blowing through my cracked window and I want to welcome it – let it blow out the funk of this cold, dark, sad winter, but I can’t believe that it is really here or meant for me. Isn’t that how life is? God giving us gifts all over the place – each day – each moment if we would only look and open them up: 113. Endless blue sky 114. Shiny, clean car 115. Snow disappearing miraculously overnight 116. Each day precious with loved ones Change is hard for this set-in-her-ways girl…but even though change is painful – blowing wind must dry the ground – I’m resolving to open my hands and my heart to what these winds bring.

Thank You! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Since I have been actively blogging again from January until now - you have visited my blog 1200 times! I'm humbled, awed, floored and over all THANKFUL! I love writing here and sharing with y'all. I would love to hear from you - please post a comment (or three) when you get a chance. It has been a busy day, so I will leave you this musical interlude. See ya soon! MercyMe - Move (click the picture to play the video)

Memories of Grandma

In memory of my Grandma – Donna Rudowske – whose birthday was last week. Grandma went to be with Jesus 5 years ago.

When I think of you Grandma, I see you with all of the rings on your fingers, a knitted purse in your hand and your “ehl-ehl-ehl” car. You are telling a story and looking for ways to teach us girls the more traditional things that girls learned in your day – knitting, crocheting, and sewing. We all tried to be good students, but I never quite learned any one of them very well.

But the treasures you had, the history of those things, the pictures – those are what always piqued my interest. You gave me your hope chest – filled with treasures. I’ve looked through them many times – crisp, white pillow cases with blue birds embroidered on them; a yellowed linen towel with purple flowers, an embroidered pillowcase doll – faded red lips smiling at me. I was looking through these things the other day and found the notes you left me – what they were, where they came from, who made them. How did I not notice them before now? The history of these things spelled out – making them even more sentimental.

You gave me your tiny ring with the “R” on it. It did not fit one of my fingers (or toes), but I kept it anyway. Later I gave it to my sister. You bought me my birthstone ring when I turned 16 – peridot green still gleaming in its tarnished band. You crochet little purses for coins – made purses using so many different materials that we joked that you could make a purse out of anything. I think my love of purses started with those ones you made years ago.

The beautiful crochet rose square blanket you made for me (and identical ones with different thread for my sisters) – how perfect that it matches all of the colors in my craft room. It is draped over my little couch in there – as if you had made it for that space. How did you know?

We weren’t always respectful of you, Grandma and I’m so sorry for that. You always loved us and wanted to show us the things that were important to you. You took us to the flea market where you sold your treasures. You gave me pretty teacups – beautiful pieces that someone had thrown away. We use those for holidays and I think of you.

I miss you Grandma and I’m so happy that I will see you again someday in heaven. I’m sure that when I get there – you will be wearing your rings and holding your newest purse and I can’t wait to see the ones you have made for all of your friends. I love you.

We Celebrate Anyway

The last several weeks have been really trying for our family and extended family. We’ve suffered through illness, untimely death, and other stressful situations. Over this past weekend, I felt as if I were at my breaking point, but I found that keeping up with my thankfulness journal really helped me keep perspective on everything.

Today on Valentine’s Day, I’m reminded of the most important things to celebrate – love, family, and the decision to celebrate.

We celebrate by giving each other cards, candy, hearts, flowers, and small gifts. But it is not the gifts that matter – it’s the people giving those gifts that we hold near to our hearts. If I chose to look at the circumstances around me, there would be no reason to celebrate – I could easily be depressed or exhausted, or just look for the simplest way to get through the day. But instead we celebrate anyway – in the midst of the pain, fear, illness, waiting, and sorrow. We choose to take a different path – to choose joy in the simple act of giving paper hearts, homemade cards, and cookies.

I wear a cross around my neck occasionally. It took me a long time to decide if I wanted to wear one because I didn’t want to dishonor what it stood for or disrespect Jesus’ sacrifice by my bad behavior while wearing it. The cross – the symbol of ultimate suffering during Jesus’ time becomes a symbol of our salvation – a treasured and honored reminder of new life from horrible suffering and death. We choose to make this awful thing represent eternal life.

Ultimately I believe we have made it through these last several weeks by choosing to believe and have hope that this is not the way it should be, has to be or will be forever. We don’t always get it right, but I believe that God if faithful. He has shown his face to us during this trying time.

We choose to celebrate anyway and welcome the joy of this love He has given us.

Staying Open I used to be pretty stuck in my ways – territorial, rigid in my plans, and definitely not spontaneous. But then I had children and well, I had to put those ways behind me. It wasn’t an easy process and I’m still learning everyday how to stay open – how to consider all possibilities – how to love first instead of selfishly considering my own agenda. Several years ago, Jerry and I took a class at our church – a survey of the whole Bible over 2 years. In one of the first few lessons, I learned something that I had never thought of before. If love is what God wants us to do then sin is its polar opposite – sin is love turned in on itself. I’m sure like many of you, I had learned that sin was a bad thing that we had to avoid, but when put in this context sin is defined more clearly as any action where I act selfishly. Wow, right? Whenever I refuse to be open to something new and different, I consider my own ways over someone else. Not the best idea if I am learning to love perfectly as Jesus wants me to do. So I’m learning to be open – open to reading a book, playing with trains, an unexpected phone call, a message asking me to pause and pray, to listen, to talk, to take an unexpected trip. I’m not just learning the good things – but the hard things too – illness, pain, loss, death. He is teaching me to love first and consider myself second. Below is a song that I love that captures this idea – staying open – Like a Lake by Sara Groves. so much hurt and preservation like a tendril round my soul so much painful information no clear way on how to hold it when everything in me is tightening curling in around this ache I will lay my heart wide open like the surface of a lake wide open like a lake standing at this waters edge looking in at God's own heart I've no idea where to begin to swallow up the way things are everything in me is drawing in closing in around this pain I will lay my heart wide open like the surface of a lake wide open like a lake bring the wind and bring the thunder bring the rain till I am tried when it's over bring me stillness let my face reflect the sky and all the grace and all the wonder of a peace that I can't fake wide open like a lake everything in me is tightening curling in around this ache I am fighting to stay open I am fighting to stay open open open oh wide open open like a lake How are you learning to be open?

One More Day My coffee is cold, but I take another drink anyway and pad on over to warm it up. I look out into the living room at their faces – watching a movie…sweet and innocent - and I’m happy, content. I know that I am meant to be here for today, for this time. Little boy – over the illness that put him down for nearly 5 days. He says, “I feel good today, mama.” I’m so happy. Big girl – quiet and a bit warm. “I want to go to school” she says and then coughs hard and gets quiet again. “I want you to go” I think to myself. But in my heart I know that we just need one more day. I need one more day…one more day to snuggle close to them, to let them know I love them, another day to pass this test of motherhood. You see, I get impatient and angry and I yell too much. I’ve been home with them so many days in the past two months and for some reason, I just can’t get this thing right. But a good friend reminded me today that "Every day that you wake up in the midst of your mess and resolve, every day that you try, and yes even every day that you fail, your heavenly Father is proud of you." So I keep trying and each day there is small progress and I know He sees. I’m here with them, one more day and who knows how many more and I will keep loving them and working on this patience thing and being a bit quieter and a lot more loving.

The Party that Wasn’t We’ve prepared for this day – cake ordered, paper goods bought, theme chosen, invitations sent, gifts waiting. We’ve prepared for this day to celebrate, because that is what you do to celebrate the lives of these children - our blessings. But what if the party wasn’t to be? Guests arrive; birthday boy playing and having fun, food ready, gifts piled high…excitement builds…balloons sway. But then he is slowing down…he wants us to hold him, we do. He grows warm, he can’t keep his eyes open, his food uneaten. The party stops. We talk, we wait, but we all keep asking ourselves the question…what if the party can’t continue? What will we do with the cake – uncut – too much to eat by this family of five. Gifts, unwrapped…no one to observe the tearing and celebrating? He sleeps and we wait…it is not a long time, but it is anguish. What if? Should we cut the cake anyway? It would be heartbreaking for him not to blow out candles… As parents, we wait, because we want our children to experience the best of what we have for them. We plan and we wait patiently…giving grace because in doing so, we experience the joy of our children unwrapping all we have for them. Someone else is waiting for us…our heavenly Father. He has given us so many gifts…our cake beautifully decorated, he – anxiously waiting. Will she take the gift of grace I have for her? He, accept who I am? He waits…gifts collecting dust…cake uncut…company of heaven waiting. How heartbreaking for him to wait on us receiving his love – accepting the gift of who he is and the gifts of each day – each moment – that he wants to bring to our lives. He wakes up…medication working – blows out the candles, wants to open gifts. Jumps and screams and yells after the ripping and tearing – plays. Thank goodness – this party WAS…it happened; we finish celebrating and are thankful. We hold him close. He wants to hold YOU close – unwrap the gifts – come to the party, eat the cake – RECEIVE what he wants you to have today. He is waiting for you – accept the gifts of today and let the party begin.

To My Wonderful Boy This is a tribute to my son Zachary who turned three on 2/4. Three years ago, you came into this world after one triumphant push…your sweet little cry filling my ears. My sweet, special boy – the result of my 2nd pregnancy and first labor. Eleven hours of labor – I was giddy and happy when my water broke and introspective through the hard, late hours. Pushing you out was the hardest work I have ever done, but definitely the most rewarding. My heart raced for a day…but I was fine. I stared at you in your clear little bed – swaddled, hat on, little face squinted in sleep. You cooed, and sighed and I knew that I was in love…love at first sight. What would I do with you, my sweet little boy? You name – Zachary John – means “remembered by a gracious God” and oh, how gracious He had been to me – that day – those days following your birth. It is three years later and I can’t believe how you have grown. Not quite a toddler, not quite a boy, but always wonderful. You make me laugh – your twice dimpled smile makes me melt. I cannot resist you. Loud, fast, running, jumping, screeching, growling, tackling me…you pause and your little arms are around my neck, “I love you mommy.” I am still in love with you my son. I didn’t know how to love a boy, how to raise you, how to do this thing – being your mom, but you showed me how. I will never be the same since we met. I’m so grateful that God gave you to me. Happy birthday, my Zachary John.

A Small Sanctuary I have three small children, which means that my house is pretty much at some level of chaos – laundry, toys, dishes, crumbs, papers – stuff in every direction. I don’t do very well with chaos like this. My idea of order is things put in their place – within reason. Overall, I tend to have a cluttered or “lived in” house, which is fine. But there are certain things that if not tended to make me vibrate just a little bit. But life is what it is and I don’t always get to those things that keep the order that I crave. I’ve found, however, that a made bed can somehow be a small sanctuary. Making our bed in the morning leaves a single, peaceful spot in our room that somehow centers me. I can sit on the bed, read, take a couple of minutes to pray and enjoy the crisp, neatness on this floating island in the middle of my room. (Never mind the ever present laundry baskets just out of view or the cluttered dressers.) While this is a physical place that I can retreat to, I need, want and crave that spiritual place of rest also. That rest for my soul. I need to take the time to pause, to pray, to put all into perspective and to not let the swirling, whirling, fast moving world overtake me. So I go to this sanctuary with Jesus. He is the source of my calm and peace during all parts of the day, not just at the end where I can return to my small sanctuary with Jerry and rest in his arms. What is your small sanctuary?