Wondering

of prayer and wonder and anenomes

A dear friend is laboring to bring forth another sweet baby into her family. So I'm praying. Soon, Lord.  Another dear friend is resting in bed so that her baby doesn't come. Not yet. Not yet, Lord. Another friend wonders if there is to be another child added to their family. So, again, I pray. Lord, give them wisdom. And peace. I don't live in a quiet household. I've never met anyone with a large family who does. But today has been a quiet kind of day. It was dark and quiet when I got up this morning. I use my stealth-mom capabilities to creep out to the living room to read. Alone. Sometimes it works. Many times it does not. Today it remained dark and incredibly quiet throughout the entire house. I read in Hebrews on my phone so that I wouldn't have to even turn on a lamp. It worked. 9 chapters and forty whole minutes later the first of many woke up and they all started wandering into the living room to greet the day. And I felt overwhelmed with gratitude for it all. All the blessings. Husband. Children. Seven total. A warm fire burning. The Word. God's comfort. Friends. Family. New opportunities.  Children who whisper to each other while I write for a few moments. Reading the same picture book to my four year old over and over again. Every day. Lentil soup. It didn't looked like it turned out that good, but it was delicious. The lentils turned to mush. Who knew. Sometimes mush tastes good. 

One of my plans for this new year is to stop what I'm doing to observe the things my children find fascinating. To see the glory in the mundane and sometimes frustrating things life is made of. 

This week one of those things we're observing and marveling at is ice. Simple. Common. Sometimes destructive. Beautiful. So when he says two days in a row, "Mom! Come outside and see..." I do. I come. I look. And I pray that I will see. Beauty. Eyes of wonder in a not-so-small-anymore boy. Nature. Creation. 

a crack in the hose makes blades of grass into sea anemones.

marveling with the boys over our anenomes. not rushing.

how did E get this all the way up to the house we all wanted to know? it's his own personal stonehenge.

jagged

beautiful

cute pie dish, anyone?

Ann Marie at CHEESESLAVE is giving away an Emile Henry Coleurs Pie Dish this week! Check it out at here!

spending the day with clark kent

    I love this photo. It's from our vacation and sums up so much about our life right now. It shows how beautiful my first born is, how patient and loving she is with Sam, her littlest brother. It shows Sam's love for Ashley and his absolute commitment to almost never wearing regular clothing.  He exercised great restraint in not complaining when I told him we were only taking his Superman and Buzz Lightyear jammies on vacation with us. No tears. Shocking. Not once did he ask for his Batman or Mr. Incredible suits. And only once did he ask for his Spiderman suit. Superhero suits and jammies are to four year old boys are what shoes are to many women. Ahem.

    Today we spent half the day with Clark Kent. When I asked Sam what was in the back of his pants he said, "I'm Clark Kent. You can call me Clark Kent." Ok then, Mr. Kent, tell me what's in your pants. Ah, underneath those wranglers and that button up shirt is a superman suit with the cape tucked into your pants. I see. And he meant business because for the next few hours he reminded anyone who dare speak to Sam that while he did see Sam sometimes, and Sam visited him at his house, he was indeed Clark Kent. Lunch time was fun and we all laughed a lot, but imagine how relieved I was that Sam came back for naptime and mama got lots of hugs, kisses and "I love you"s.

the boys are quiet. for the moment...

 

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor, remember.  Joining Amanda over at Soulemama.

 

back to reality

 

I went further and faster than I intended on my walk this morning. It's the weather. I love Autumn. 

new book smell

 

Not all of the books in that (tiny) pile are new, but they will all be read this year. These and a couple hundred others. We're doing Ambleside Online (Years 11 and 5) this year. This is the first year since my dad died three and a half years ago that me and the kiddos are really excited about what we're doing for school this year. Don't get me wrong, we like homeschooling, but when my dad died it just kind of cast a shadow on things. Grief is funny and I can't even begin to understand it. But I do know that the other night at dinner my husband said something that my dad used to say and I laughed so hard. Those moments are coming more and more and overshadowing the I-miss-mydad-and-want-to-cry-like-a-little-kid moments. It's good. Life goes on. Ob-la-di. Ob-la-da.

Footnote: this photo was taken on my HTC Evo 4G using the fx photo app - toy camera.

but here, now

At some point, I'm not sure when, I took to reading my Bible, and any devotional I might be thumbing through at the time, in the living room. I think I had read, one too many times, about all the women who were making tea, lighting a candle and having a proper "quiet time". You know how it goes. You start trying to do things the way another is doing them and things can, well, fall apart. In my home the babies are generally early risers. At least those who are babies now. And there are two of them. If I tried to get up, light a candle and make tea I would most definitely have company. Probably lots of it. Seven children provide ample opportunity for togetherness. So, what do I choose? Do I resent not being alone? Do I sigh when I hear them coming? Do I steal away to pray and then embrace them as they wake up and are needing me. I am the mom after all. The very one the Lord gave to them. Shouldn't I greet them as such? As if I am a gift the Lord gave to them? And as if they are gifts the Lord has given to me? I should. I know I should. So today I went back to what worked here. Taking my Bible to bed, reading for a few moments before sleep comes, pulling back the curtains to let the morning sun in and reaching for the Book. It's a good morning.

He that spared not His own Son,...how shall he not with him also freely give us all things? (Romans 8:32)

Lord, quicken my faith, give me to see how deep and wide, and full and free, is the unspeakable love which spared not your own Son, and therefore can spare every other gift, to me, your undeserving child! I thank you that it is not ' 'way over Jordan, Lord', that I must go to 'ring these charming bells'; but here, now, in the sanctuary of my heart, and all day long in the open cloisters of my daily life, I make your glad music resound to your glory, and my own exceeding happiness-

How shall he not!

How shall he not!

from Free Grace and Dying Love by Susannah Spurgeon

because the goal is not for things to go smoothly

This morning as I was nursing the baby her brother kept tickling her, poking her and doing anything else he could to make her laugh. At first I asked him to stop. I wanted her to nurse and be done so that I could get on with my day. And then I remembered this is my day. If any mother should understand how quickly the years fly by it should be me. My oldest child is eighteen years old. My youngest is just over a year. And there are five sandwiched (very loosely) in between. I know how fleeting this all is. And yet here I was wanting to get on with the day. Whatever that means. Is there some measure of success in getting the laundry done sooner? I don't think so. And if there is, I don't want to know about it. Thankfully I caught myself this time, took a breath, and laughed. And then, together, we tickled the baby and made her laugh. And of course we laughed too, because you can't be around a laughing baby and not laugh. I don't think that's possible.

The short version of why this moment stood out to me is this: my perspective on life changed when my dad died. In a nutshell, I became e whose happiness was based on the circumstances around them. If things went smoothly.  If people did what I expected them to do. If things didn't fall apart. If plans didn't fail. If my washing machine didn't break and keep breaking for the next year and a half. If. If. If. You get the idea. But the reality has been that my need for things to go smoothly has been the greatest distraction in my life.  When you are so concerned about things going the right way or the way you think they should go you often miss what is happening in the moment. A look from your husband. A whisper from a little one.  Reading aloud. Again. Making dinner. Bathing the babies. Getting up while it is still dark. Cherishing a very few minutes alone (instead of sighing when you hear the patter of little feet while it is still dark).   These are a few of the things that life is made up of. So I keep whispering to myself cherish the day.

So today the goal is not for things to go smoothly, but to embrace my life when it doesn't. I'll let go of the unimportant things and be grateful for every little blessing.

the wrong list

I had an agenda today. Let's just say that I didn't cross anything off my list. Here's what would have gotten crossed off had I actually made the right list...

Have a peaceful day at home.

Stop what I'm doing and visit with a kindred spirit.

Let the kiddos enjoying getting dirty with their friends.

Thank The Man for taking the three boys to 4-H.

Don't fall over when one of my eleven year olds tells me one cookie is enough because he doesn't want to eat too many sweets.

Stop blogging because the baby is now, indeed, ready to nurse and go to bed...

Goodnight.

 

again, meaning once more

In the seventh grade my english teacher, whom I adored, who had great, dark, curly hair, who said she had known Jack Ruby,  gave me an A paper back with the comment, "too many commas!". Really now, I don't think that was fair, do you? Don't you insert commas where you would normally pause if you were speaking? Perhaps I pause too often, but I don't think so. I do think she scarred me for life though. It's been eight months since I've last written here. Or anywhere for that matter. I can't tell you how many times I have thought, "wow, Angela, get it together and write something already." But, that old burden perfectionism has been following me around again. Well, I'm not going to take it lying down. So here I am. Writing. Flinging commas around. Pouring out a few thoughts. Blogging again. These one hundred and sixty-six words aren't going to change the world, but sometimes just showing up and typing is enough.