Grateful Acres

Josh took the boys to his shop with him so I could go to Roo's appointment just-me-and-her. I'm so grateful that he did, because waves of familiar fears came washing over my heart the whole way there, requiring my whole being to battle for the surrender to allow Christ to reign. A week or so ago Roo was diagnosed with a hernia, and I felt a tiny pang of fear. I had noticed it during a diaper change, and called out to our Creator. At her one-year appointment we showed it to her doctor, and he referred us to a Urologist. With each diaper change I felt fear rising, squeezing my lungs and throat a little more each time. I've tasted the bitter anguish of letting go of the child I held in my arms. I've prayed for healing, laying hands and begging from my knees for mercy. I've invested my whole heart in faith that the Healer could re-arrange genetics, undo a diagnosis, and breathe life where there isn't any.  I've tasted the unexplainable peace and strength t

Last night all my kids were down and quiet by 8pm! I had cleaned the house Friday afternoon, and we were all gone the whole day on Saturday, so the house had stayed clean. There was only a small pile of laundry, we were caught up on our TV show, I didn't have any events to plan, he didn't have any worship sets to put together, no one was coming over, and neither of us were going anywhere. My husband and I wandered around our house a bit... not sure what to do with ourselves! Then I remembered something: I used to scrapbook! A little bit in shock, I pulled out some dusty stacks of photos and paper, stamps and ribbons, and spread them over the kitchen table. ((Do I remember how to do this??)) I glued some things down on an album I started a year or so ago, and then began to thumb though some old photos. Boy... the time has gone fast. As I flipped through the photos in my box, in backward chronological order, I watched as my kids' cheeks got chubbier... their legs got shor

People always tell me to treasure my kids while they are little. In the middle of my exhaustion, piles of pee-saturated laundry, and sticky everything, I think "I am!". I DO drink in their smell when a sweaty little person pauses long enough to let me scoop them up on my lap. I DO kiss their sleeping cheeks every night, and breathe in deep, savoring the moment. I DO rock them to sleep as often as they will let me. I feel sad when each haircut makes them look older, and when each milestone gets passed. Sometimes I long for the freedom and quiet that will partially return as my kids take on more and more independence. Often I grow weary in the daily, nitty-gritty, constant training required in these early, road paving years. Most days I feel like the weight of the previous day has just barely lifted when the new day begins. But I'm learning that training hearts is much heavier (and scarier) than night-time feedings, or colic. It's much harder to teach (and model? :/