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? :/...

All the chairs stood obediently in rows, except for a few pushed aside by a couple of hands-on, wiggly boys  that follow me everywhere I go ;) People came in a few at a time. Some surveyed the obedient chairs as they passed through the door way, scouting out a route to their desired location that didn't involve any of the usual empty, "Hi, how are you- I'm good how are you- good".  Other people ignored the chairs and scouted people instead. They mingled and laughed loudly, tugging their kids along.  Over the sound system the meeting was called to begin, and  the minglers joined the sitters in the unmoving rows of chairs. The music began, and little pockets of people began to engage. Hands were raised, people stood to their feet or hunkered down into a quiet place among the crowd. Corporately, yet individually, the people interacted worship-fully with their Creator.  The chairs used to be an invitation, with their open seats waiting to be occupied. The chairs...

Do you ever feel like sticky, fly-trap paper? Weird, I know. Let me explain: I log on to our online banking to transfer money and pay bills... a little bit of stress and anxiety presses against my heart. I finish and log off and move on to the next thing on my list. Screeches from the next room reveal that a few of my kids (whose names will remain... un-named?) are, in fact, fighting again. Frustrated, I turn down the heat on the burner, wipe my hands, and head toward them hoping I can deal with the issue before the pan burns. Someone woke up early from nap time, just as I was walking away from my to-do-during-naptime's and toward a few minutes of soul-rejuvenation. Weariness comes knocking, as I set aside the quiet time I craved to meet the needs of someone a little smaller, and with a few less tools for life. In just three encounters that were maybe three minutes each, this is what stuck: stress, anxiety, frustration, and weariness. Sometimes my sticky paper gets full ...

The night before her first birthday I had some trouble. I nursed her extra long, and then held her long after she had fallen asleep. Around eleven-thirty I finally mustered up the resolve to bring her up to her bed... but that's as far as I got. In the dark I held, and rocked, her sleeping body. I felt each little breath, squeezed her growing legs, brushed her wispy hair away from her eyes. I rocked her, though she was way past conscious, hanging on to the last minutes of her first year. I stood over her crib and squeezed her little footie-pajama'd body, and my eyes began to sting. I don't want this to end! It's gone too fast. Please, just a little more baby-time with her... Finally I laid her down and closed her door, marking the end of a beautiful, indescribable first year with my daughter. We gave her a baby doll for her first birthday. It brought back memories of my own baby doll. I remember exactly what mine looked like, and much detail of the dress I kept her ...

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to and end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23 Those words really speak for themselves, but I'll tell you how they were lived out for me today. Last night when my kids were asleep, one by one I laid my hand on their sweaty heads and asked God to wash the day off. It was one of those days that needed washing off... Separately, several dear friends and acquaintances that knew nothing of the stresses of my day initiated little acts of care yesterday and today. They represented the heart of the Father, speaking to me that He knew my heart was weary. Last night my husband's strong, gentle arms scratched my back- being the hands of Jesus, washing me like I had asked. This morning my children woke up fresh. I woke up fresh. His mercy was new this morning. Praise God from whom all blessings flow.