Tag: large family

Free House: Breaking the Stuff Connections

I went over this morning to the free house, my first time going solo without my husband. Last weeks’ goal was to clear a path to the front door, which I accomplished, yay! But, there was some strategy there. I wanted to be able to just walk in the front door instead of having to go through the basement, climb some questionable stairs, have to pass next to the really horrifying kitchen and then get to work. Andy found a mummified possum in the basement which he has removed, but my first acquaintance with the basement was with mummified possum intact which I had to carefully avoid looking at as I climbed the stairs, and honestly, I just found the whole thing a little creepy. So, the thought of working over there by myself meant I wanted a way to avoid the basement and kitchen, which is at the top of the basement stairs. 

So, today I walked in the front door! And straight into the living room. 

The living room was not as bad as the hallway. Less foodstuff. And everything was less compacted. I managed to clean it out in just under two hours. 

Which makes me a little sad. I found stuff on the bottom of the pile from 2002 which means this stuff has been accumulating for a long time. It only took two hours of work to make it all go away. Of course, it only took me two hours because I had no history with any of these belongings. I had no problem grabbing things and throwing them away. I found a good size pile of things that have never been opened and are still usable and I went and put them in our future yard sale pile, but I also found some things that were unopened but didn’t seem to serve any useful purpose, and I just tossed them. Cause I didn’t care. Those belongings had zero hold on me. 

I wonder how many problems we make for ourselves because we are so connected to our stuff? It has been a journey for me to let go of those connections. I remember when our first four or five kids were little. They could not keep their rooms clean. I could not keep their rooms clean. We simply had too many toys. And it’s not like I spent a lot of money on toys. In our culture, we have so much stuff that we are on a constant search for someone to give our stuff to. Hey, I’ve got a big box of really nice toys my kids don’t play with anymore, here, you can have them! And then suddenly, I have another big box of toys that I now need to find a home for, take care of and clean up every day. On one hand, it’s a blessing: Free entertainment for kids. On the other hand, that also translates to daily tears and frustration as mom and kids try to keep it all clean. 

Over the years I have slowly learned how to limit belongings, and also how to keep up with the belongings we do have. Lately, I’ve been dealing with my book connections. I have so many books in my home. Someone said that if you have more than 1,000 books it counts as a library. I have a library. Or, at least, I did. This summer I tackled my bookshelves. I got rid of a lot of my homeschooling supplies (after all, it has been eight years since I was homeschooling a crowd, four years since my last lone homeschooler went to school). I also got rid of a lot of early reader type books, because my youngest now reads long chapter books and isn’t interested in “Amelia Bedelia”. Sigh.  (Ok, confession, I did keep one bookshelf that has all the best read-aloud books, I’m still counting on grandkids coming over one day!) But, I managed to haul off several totes worth of books to the used bookstore. And my house is cleaner and easier to take care of because of it. 

The next belongings stronghold I need to tackle is memorabilia. Kids old school work and art work, old cards and letters, old programs from different events my kids have been in. I’m still really connected to all those things. This summer I bought a big tote and transferred several drawers and boxes worth of paper memories into the box, sealed it up and set it in the attic. With the hopes that I will leave it there for several years until I’ve forgotten about it and it no longer matters to me. At which point it will be easier to throw away. 

Stuff can make your life feel cozy, luxurious, abundant. But, I think it’s a really narrow line to where that stuff becomes a burden and sucks energy from your life. 

I can tell you that working in the house next door is definitely helping me to be wary about stuff, and a lot more hesitant about accumulating anything more. 

O Taste and See

Today is one of those days when all the colors are brighter. The grass is greener, the sky is more blue, the wind seems sweeter. Everything is beautiful. 

I had to take my son to a doctor’s appointment first thing this morning. Then I had to come up with a menu and go grocery shopping. And then unload the car. And put everything away. And make sure everyone had food to eat. And chores got done. And had to order a new latch for the lid of my washing machine so it would start working again. And on and on, etc, etc. But, in between all the mundane tasks, I keep looking up and seeing trees covered in rustling green clothes, swaying in the wind. The bird singing extra loud. The clouds exceptionally white and fluffy. 

O taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him. Psalm 34:8

One of my boys went on a playdate this afternoon and the other one was feeling lonely so he asked if we could walk down to the park close to our house. I said sure and packed a little bag with a water bottle and a book to read, thinking I’d sit back and enjoy that while he played on the playground. But when we got there he was the only child there and it was obvious he wanted my attention. So I put the book away and made an effort to be present with him. We quickly abandoned the playground and went and walked around the man-made pond in the center of the park. There were geese and ducks and we spent a lot of time watching them and meandering around the pond. The park is not fancy, and the pond’s water is a bit scary, not something you would want to fall into. But, today the park was beautiful. And I cherished the time with my son. 

Days like today are gifts. Days where you can see. You can see how breath-taking this world is that we live in. You can see how precious the people around you are. You can see what a miracle and blessing our everyday lives are. 

O taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him. Psalm 34:8

There are so many worries and stresses in our lives. It is overwhelming. Tomorrow I will go back to worrying about all the minutiae of my life, the burdens my city bears, the fears and tragedies of the nations. Those haven’t gone away. And there is a time and a place to throw everything we have at those problems facing our world.  But right now, I just want to stay in this moment, where the world is a masterpiece, my children are the most wondrous of jewels, and I know that God is here, I can feel his presence in the breeze blowing across my face. And it’s that joy and peace that I need, so I can take them into tomorrow where all the troubles wait for me, and I can face them from a place of goodness. 

O taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him. Psalm 34:8

Inevitable Grief

The last time I wrote I had a euphoric Monday and I felt joy bubbling through me and I wanted to share that in my post. But as I went to post my blog, I had a superstition-driven thought that if I post about how happy I am, then bad things are going to happen to make me not happy. And while I don’t believe in superstition, I also know that life is hard, things happen. So I wasn’t overly surprised when the very next day I took my elderly dog to the vet and found out that he has advanced stages of cancer. 

And then, when I said goodbye to my two daughters who moved out of state these past two weeks, I discovered that while I am happy for them, excited about their futures, when I hugged them goodbye and watched them walk out the door, my heart did take a blow. 

I look around me, the world is still a beautiful place. Even as I write at this moment I can see the setting sun lighting up the trees, making them glow, showing off all their oranges and reds and leftover tinges of green. And I know that Jesus and his creation is beautiful. I can hear my two little boys playing a game with their twenty-two year old brother, and I am thankful for my older children and their patience and love and care for their younger siblings. I am aware of how over-abundantly I am cared for. A warm, cozy home. A husband who loves me and takes care of his family. A church where I can experience God’s presence and hear his word taught. 

Joy is still present, hovering on the edges of my life, waiting to be noticed. But I realized today that I am holding a lot of tension in my body. 

When I found out about my dog, the vet said we have a maximum of six months left, but could be a lot less. She gave me some pain medicine to give him (which has really helped) and told me what to look for to know if he’s in pain. We don’t want him to suffer and plan to take him back to the vet before he reaches that point. But how do I know when it’s the right time? Right now, he’s happy to see the kids and sleeps most of the day, but he’s a really low-maintenance dog and doesn’t complain so I’m worried that I will miss out on some clue and might inadvertently let him suffer when he doesn’t need to. And I find myself tensing up. Stiffen that backbone. Don’t relax. Be on alert. Must keep the dog from suffering. Must prepare for the grief of the kids who have grown up with this dog and love him dearly. Brace myself. 

My daughters officially packed up and left. I stiffened my backbone. This is a normal part of parenthood, letting go. Must be there for them as they make this transition. Must help the kids deal with their grief as their sisters are no longer easily accessible. Must keep a positive face on it, the girls don’t need to feel any guilt about leaving, I must not show sadness or it might make them feel sad. Brace myself. 

We have an election this week. I stiffen my backbone. Don’t watch the news. Scroll past all the political posts on social media. Don’t engage. Try not to think about the months to come as the potential for drama is high as one side has to concede to the other. Brace myself. 

And I think all this tension has to do with my poor handling of emotions. I have a history of not doing hard emotions. I ignore them. Suppress them. Distract myself from them. Rush over them. And I am at a place in life where I now realize that repressing the hard emotions means also repressing the good emotions. And these hard emotions don’t go away, they just hide and wait, disguising themselves as anger and depression. So, I know that my method of dealing with hard emotions is not right, not healthy. But it’s a really hard habit to break. 

Frankly, I think what I need is a good cry. Release. Take a pause for sadness. When I think of grief I think of the biggest losses I can think of: death of a child, a parent, a spouse. Pain that is so deep we don’t even want to imagine it. But grief is also for the inevitable losses. The ones we know have to happen, there is no surprise or shock, but they are still heavy.  Saying goodbye to your children’s dog who has loved your family faithfully for twelve years. Saying goodbye to your beautiful wonderful daughters who have grown into amazing young women, ready to take on the world. Recognizing how unhealthy our political environment is in our country and just acknowledging how sad that is. 

“Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.” Matthew 5:4

So, I go into this next week with an odd prayer. Lord, let me be sad, let me feel. Let me un-stiffen my back bone and instead embrace the pain, trusting that it’s ok to feel these emotions, that truly, this is the only way forward. Knowing that joy still hovers on the edges, waiting for it’s time. 

Thoughts on Feminism

When I was twenty an older woman I knew said, about me, that I would make a good wife for somebody. She didn’t say it to my face, but it was gleefully retold to me by a mutual acquaintance. It was not meant as a compliment. The implication was that I was weak, submissive, and had no leadership qualities. The woman who said it was a successful businesswoman and ran a matriarchal type household. She was definitely the one in charge of everything. At that time, I did want to get married, and I think I shrugged off the insult part of the comment without much trouble. I knew that I had different goals. And the woman who said it was not someone I wished to emulate. But the core of what she was trying to say was I was not a feminist and thus inferior. 

I want to talk about feminism. This is the definition I’m going to use, found on humanrightscareers.com

At its core, feminism is the belief that women deserve equal social, economic, and political rights and freedoms.

To give you a little background, my Grandmother Picazo went to college as a math major and had a lifetime career in Christian radio missions, my Grandmother Rigby was a nurse and a career missionary her entire life. My mother was a missionary, and then went back to school and became a Physician Assistant and worked in the medical field until her retirement. My mother-in-law has her doctorate, is an ordained minister and was a career missionary. 

I come from a long line of strong, educated, women. When I was growing up there was always an assumption that I would go to college and have some type of career. I honestly didn’t think about kids too much when I was young. Just assumed I’d probably have two, like my parents did, but it was not something I gave much thought to. I went to a christian university right after high school and studied music. And then I had a breakdown, struggled with panic attacks and anxiety, and decided, with the blessing of my parents, to take a break from school for a while. I went overseas, spent four months in Haiti and then six months in Chile. All the time, wondering what I was going to do with my life. 

During college, I made a vow to God that I was going to follow him wherever he led me. I asked him to be the one to choose my husband for me and I approached life with open hands, trusting that God would take me where he wanted me. 

I ended up getting married at twenty and then shortly after that my husband and I felt that God was asking us to trust him with our family size so we went off birthcontrol. 

Twenty-five years later, ten kids later, I am sitting here, thinking about feminism. 

I homeschooled my kids for somewhere between twelve and fifteen years, depending on how you count it. The homeschooling community is a very diverse place and I ran into all kinds of teachings and belief systems that had me scratching my head. One of the belief systems that I ran into was that feminism was bad. Women should be under the protection of their father or their husbands at all times and should be content living out their role in the home, leaving all decision making to the men in their lives. 

I disagree. And when I hear people bashing feminism, I want to remind them that without feminism, women would not be voting in the upcoming election. We wouldn’t be able to have our own bank accounts. We wouldn’t be able to own property. We would not have freedom to pursue higher education and fulfilling careers. We would be essentially enslaved to the men in our lives. I don’t think this is a just, safe way to live. We live in a sinful world, and while the idea of being raised by a gentle godly man as your father, and then marrying a perfect man who always takes care of you exactly the way you need, sounds good in theory, in reality there are girls being raised by abusive fathers and women trapped in marriages to abusive men. Without feminism, these women would have very little recourse to escape these situations. And that’s not even addressing the women who do not want to be married in the first place. 

I believe in freedom. I am a stay-at-home mom. I have been for twenty-four years. My husband and I have a very traditional marriage. We hold to the belief that he is the head of the house. I have ten children. We felt that God asked us to trust us with our family size and when we felt that we had reached that size, we took measures to not have any more children. I feel that I have been especially blessed to have the privilege to stay home and raise my children. But, here’s the thing. I chose to have this lifestyle. I believed that it was something God wanted and so I chose to obey that. It was not forced on me. I had choices. I could have chosen to not get married. I could have chosen to insist on our marriage looking different. I had a choice about whether I would have children or not and how many I would have. I chose to hand that over to God, but it was still a choice. Without choice, it’s slavery. And for those who see my lifestyle as obedience to God, I would say that without choice, it’s not really even obedience. Can a slave be rewarded for obedience when they had no choice in whether to obey or not? 

I have five daughters. I have tried very hard to let them know they have choices. And at the same time, let them know that following God is always going to lead to the most fulfilling life. 

I hope that my daughters look at me and see someone who chose to follow where God led, and as a result has lived a blessed, fulfilling life. And I hope that they look at the examples of their grandmothers and great grandmothers too and know that following God looks different for each person. 

Transition!

Hello all. LIfe has been flying by, so much going on since the last time I wrote. 

My kids are all back in school now. My teen who was away for the summer finally got home yesterday. My oldest who has spent the summer with us only has a week left here. Two of the kids’ sports have already started up again. My husband and I celebrated twenty-four years of marriage. And more! 

I have decided to take this year and explore the role of music in my life again. Right after high school I did two years of piano performance at a university, then took a year off and got married, had kids etc. I’ve taught piano lessons here and there as I’ve had time, but pregnancies and babies and later, foster kids, have all cut those short. Now I find myself in a place where all my kids are in school and I feasibly have some more time to do other things. So, I have five piano students starting this week and I started taking piano lessons for myself again. Trying to see if I can get myself back up to speed. 

I haven’t started teaching yet, but I’m excited about it. And I can say that I have thoroughly been enjoying my piano lessons. It feels good to be challenging myself again. 

By the way, I’m still sticking to a healthier diet and exercise plan. I’ve gone down two clothing sizes and I’m feeling a lot more energetic. Woohoo.

All of that to say, there has been a lot of transitioning going on in our household these past couple weeks. 

Transition is hard. We like our routines and knowing what to expect and when that suddenly disappears, it feels really stressful. Even if it’s moving to something good. I’ve been reminding myself of this as I deal with irritable children or I find myself getting overwhelmed by small things. 

We’re transitioning. We’re transitioning. It’s going to be ok. This will get better soon. 

Today in the Bible reading program I’m doing with my church (we all read the same scriptures in the Bible App and then we can comment and see each other’s comments), we read Psalm 131.

Verse 2 says, 

“But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.”

My friend made a comment on this verse, pointing out that a weaned child has learned how to trust their mother. They now have confidence that their needs are going to be met. And this was my prayer this morning, that all of my children would have that same confidence in God. As they go through transitions and changes that they would be in a place of calm and peace. Yeah, everything is stressful and new and different, but God hasn’t changed. He’s still here helping me. I’m not alone. I can trust Him. It’s going to be ok.

I’m Back!

Hi Everyone. I’m back. I think. I ended up taking an unplanned break from writing. I think the easiest explanation is that my writing is all about telling you what is going on in my life and how I’m dealing with it and this summer the things I was dealing with were not shareable. They were too tangled up with other people’s lives for me to freely tell you what was going on. But, I can testify that God is faithful. I went through a season of healing and forgiveness and I also went through a David and Goliath type trial where God, as always, proved greater than the giant facing me. 

To catch you up a bit on our family news, all of my kids have moved to new schools. That was a miracle in itself as God opened doors for each one of my kids to be able to go to a better situation. It’s been pretty hectic as we’ve been trying to learn new schedules and routines, but I think we are finally over the hump and the kids all feel settled and are very happy in their new schools. 

This is the first year that all of my kids are at school for the whole school day. I’m not homeschooling anyone. My oldest daughter at home is taking college classes so her schedule is a little more loose and I see her occasionally throughout the day, but I’m not actively taking care of anyone at the house. I’ve had a lot of people say, “What are you going to do with yourself?” I am getting more and more excited as I ponder this question. 

Let’s see. I’m going to actually have time to take care of my home. Maybe I’ll do some meal planning and actually start cooking more difficult meals that take longer than 30 minutes to prepare. Maybe I’ll actually dust my house. Organize some spaces that are out of control. Maybe I’ll do some knitting and sew some curtains. Maybe I can take time to take a walk every day again. Maybe I can work through a Bible Study. Maybe I can get some rest so that when I’m with my kids I’m not a stressed out wreck. Maybe I can start meeting my husband for lunch and we can get some couple-time again. Maybe I’ll have time to actually take an interest in what’s happening in my yard and I could actually do a little landscaping. Who knows. 

Yesterday I went to the zoo and took a long walk. We have a family zoo pass and the zoo is within walking distance of my house. I found myself grinning as I walked. I had time to stop and enjoy seeing the animals and all the beautiful plants and landscaping the zoo has. Usually when I’m at the zoo it’s a full-on marathon as I try to keep my eyes on all the kids and keep everyone happy and safe. As I was walking I felt like I had just been dragged out of the ocean where I had been barely keeping my head above water and now I was on land and just sitting taking in large gulps of air. It felt like I was getting my margins back. I’ve been living full-tilt, giving everything I’ve got for so long. It feels surprising and wonderful to suddenly have some time to myself where I can just be. Where I can do something I enjoy and not have to focus on making sure everyone else is enjoying themselves. 

This does not mean I’m sitting around eating bon bons and watching soap operas. I do have ten people in my home that I’m still taking care of and three adult kids I’m keeping tabs on. It just feels like, instead of having three full-time jobs, now I just have two. Or two and half. 

I’m about to get up and clean my house and wash dishes and fold laundry. But I’m going to put on a podcast that I want to listen to. Maybe blast some Mozart. Play the piano a bit. And I’m going to breathe deep breaths and bask in silence. And just be thankful. 

Daily Battles

“Are we holding on to, or are we held? Are we approaching or are we inside? Is it finished or in process?

I am talking about our position in Christ, because what we believe makes all the difference right now.” 

Sarah Howe

I read these words the other day on a friend’s Facebook. And I found myself almost arguing out loud. Yes. My brain knows that I am held, I am on the inside, the work is finished. I know this with my brain. But, my heart, it still struggles. My emotions still struggle. My sense of security still struggles. 

This morning I was dropping my son off at school. I got a text right as we pulled into the parking lot. I was concerned about answering it, so when I pulled to a stop I quickly grabbed my phone, sent a rushed response, hit send, then looked up. My son had already exited the car and was walking away, it was time to pull out of the parking lot. I forgot to say “Goodbye, I love you, Have a good day!” And I drove away feeling like a failure. Not a good enough mom. 

It also didn’t help that I started off the day with an unpleasant surprise which then made me snap at my husband and start his day off on the wrong foot. Failure. Not a good enough wife. Can’t start the day cheerfully and help everyone else start the day cheerfully. 

And then it just avalanched. Everything I did was put under the filter of Not-Good-Enough and I ended up just sitting here, feeling like a complete failure. There’s no way that God loves me. Or anyone else for that matter. Unworthy. 

It occurs to me again that life is a battle. And I am my own worst enemy. My flesh. The part of me that says, I’d rather just sit here and eat snacks than get up and exercise. The part of me that says, I’m in a bad mood so I have a right to be harsh and snappy with people. The part of me that feels affronted when I have to deal with any kind of hardship or inconvenience, and then I take that out on everyone else with complaining and acting like everyone owes me something. And then, the part of me that feels less-than, unwanted, unworthy. 

As I sit here, wallowing, I remember Paul’s exhortation, 

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. Ephesians 6:10-11

The rest of of that chapter talks about the different parts of the armor of God. I think about the belt of truth buckled around my waist. God is on his throne. Jesus came to save us. I have been chosen by God. I am loved. I think about the breastplate of righteousness. It’s not my goodness that saves me, it’s Jesus’ work on the cross. His righteousness, his goodness, covers me. I think about the helmet of salvation. I am saved! Nothing can separate me from God’s love. I pick up the sword of the spirit, read God’s word. I pick up the shield of faith, I believe what I have read. I strap on the Gospel of peace to my feet, ready to tell the world again, that my God is good, my God saves, he is Love. 

And once again, the day’s battle is won. My brain reminds my heart, my emotions: You are held. You are inside. The work is finished. Go in peace. 

I hit the refresh button on the day. And I start again. 

Increase My Faith

We went camping as a family this last weekend. It was a lot of fun. Canoe camping. We drove into a National Park, put into a lake and then paddled over two hours before we got to a creek/small river. We took our canoes out and then had to carry our stuff up the bank, down the trail about the equivalent of a city block to our campsite. We got our tents up, a campfire going, cooked some supper. The kids were running around the woods having a lot of fun. Suddenly my daughter started crying and grabbed her chest. She ran over to me. Mom! My chest hurts! I need my inhaler! Ok. I got this. I went and got my ziploc bag full of all my emergency medicine that I always have with me on these trips. (Be prepared!) I pulled out her inhaler with her spacer, handed it to her, she went to press the button and something was wrong. The actual medicine tube had fallen out of the casing. There was no albuterol. Just the plastic casing. Crap. 

Ok. Take a deep breath. (Me, not the asthmatic kid.) I stood there, holding her in a hug while I rubbed her back. It’s ok. Let’s get you out of this woodsmoke and stop running around. We’ll find a nice quiet place to sit till you feel better. I could tell she was starting to panic. I was trying not to panic. We just stood there quietly for a while. I got a camp chair and moved it away from the smoke. Sat her down. My brain was racing. Ok. People had asthma long before inhalers came around. I took mental stock of what I had. I could pound on her back to help loosen things up? I remembered that in my medicine bag I had some essential oils. We could put some in boiling water and have her breath in the steam with a towel over her head. Ok. We can do this. I stopped and prayed out loud for her and she slowly calmed down. 

It was bedtime. The girls were all going to sleep in their own tent, but this had thrown my daughter off. She asked to sleep in my tent. Sure sweetie. Then it was a domino effect as the other girls decided that they weren’t brave enough to sleep solo if one of the sisters was missing. So then I had three extra kids in my tent. And an empty tent all set up. My husband abandoned ship and took one of the little boys and they went and shared the abandoned tent and I layed down, surrounded by little ones. 

As I lay there in the dark my heart was pounding and I found myself fighting off fear. Yes, my asthmatic child seemed to be doing better. But what if her asthma got worse? I imagined us jumping into a canoe in the middle of the night, paddling for hours, and then driving trying to find a hospital for her. My other daughter said her head was hurting and she had a runny nose. What if it was Covid? What if she suddenly got really sick in the middle of the night, and here we are, out in the middle of nowhere??

And I found myself casting out a desperate prayer, God how do I stop living in so much fear? And he answered me. I lay there and God showed me image after image in my head of how I view Him. My warped understanding of Him. My default worldview that has me thinking of God as someone distant who constantly disapproves of me. I come to him as a slave to a harsh master, crying for mercy, but not sure about getting it. And then he brought to my mind a dream that he had given me back when I was nineteen years old. In college. I didn’t even know what a prophetic dream was back then. I just knew that the dream had been different. I told my roommate, I think God was trying to tell me something in a dream. And after I told her about the dream she said, Yes! God was definitely telling you something! I wrote the dream down. But, I still remember it vividly. 

I won’t go into all the details of the dream. But it was essentially, God loving me as a groom loves his bride. And I thought how different, how much stronger my faith would be, if I could fully grasp how loved I was by God. How my prayers would seem different. Asking for help from your lover is so different from asking for help from a Master. I know that if I asked my husband for something, he would want to do it for me. Just because he loved me. And he would take pleasure in giving it to me. 

We read the story last night of Jesus with his disciples out on a boat in a storm. And the disciples were all freaked out and Jesus stops the storm with his words. And then in Mark 4: 40-41, 

He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”  They were terrified and asked each other, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!”

Do you still have no faith? And then they ask, Who is this? And that seems to be really key to not being afraid. Having a true understanding of who our God is and having faith that he will stay true to his character. Religion and law teach us that God is someone that we are constantly trying to appease by being good, following the rules. Relationship with God is different. It’s understanding that he First Loved Us and then he Made A Way for us to be reconciled to him because of his Great Love for us. 

I feel like I have been on a lifelong journey to move from the position of viewing God through Law to the position of viewing God through Grace. I’m not there yet. But, I feel a lot more like I know how to pray. I know better what needs to change. God, let me understand you better as a God of Love. Let me walk in a fuller understanding of your Grace. Increase my faith. 

A Time for Quiet

We are on vacation right now. Taking part in a family reunion. Back to the stomping grounds of my husband’s youth. It’s a place that feels like home. Lakes, fields, forests. Small towns. Vast northern skies. It’s been almost twenty-two years since our honeymoon when my husband first brought me to Maine. And since then we’ve made regular pilgrimages. I am very familiar with the over-eleven-hundred-mile drive. 

For me, it’s a place where I can get steeped in nature. Forget about city traffic, polution, people everywhere you turn. It’s a place where you just sit and stare at the water. Watch for loons. See an eagle every once in a while. Laugh at the ducks. Take long walks down dirt roads. 

It’s a place where I can slow down my heartbeat. Slow down my frantic thoughts. Slow down the rhythm of our family. Life simplifies to the lowest common denominator. Play, eat, sleep. 

This morning I sat on the porch, watching my kids swim, painting my toenails. After a long time, I finished. Beautiful! I did it! (This is an accomplishment for me to not get nail polish all over the place.) Then my four year old wanted to sit with me and he stepped on my foot. Back to square one. But it’s ok. I’ve got time to fix it. Nothing else is pressing in. 

The kids are reconnecting with cousins. Aunts and Uncles catching up on each other’s news. We break bread together. Pictures are taken. 

I think about the fact that years ago, a family this spread out would never have seen each other again. The distance too far, the cost too high. Now we can jump in our cars, book airline tickets. Set a date. Here we all are. What an amazing time we live in. 

I have hopes for my time here. I hope I can disconnect from the world that is full of human drama and stress. Connect with an older world. The one that is tied to the changing of the seasons, the moving of the sun across the sky. The activity of the clouds, will it rain or not? Tune my ears into the sound of the wind in the trees, the calls of the birds. Smell the damp forest floor. Feel the rain misting on my face. 

I am thankful. Thankful for my husband’s family that has claimed me as one of their own. Thankful for the heritage of this place that we can pass down to our children. Thankful that God provided a way for us to get here. Thankful for rest. 

This is me and my husband, after our wedding, about to get in the car and drive cross-country to Maine for the first time. I had no idea that this was going to become a major theme in our lives. But, I’m really glad that’s the way it’s turned out. 

Kid Fashion

Let’s talk kid fashion. I first want to go on the record and let you know that I am a hands-off parent when it comes to fashion. I have some really loose standards, kind of my line-in-the-sand rules, but that’s it. These rules have evolved as the situations have demanded.

  1. Don’t wear pajamas to school.
  2. You must have two shoes on your feet, not one.
  3. I should not be able to see your underwear or feel like I’m about to see your underwear. 
  4. If your low-cut shirt is making you uncomfortable or me uncomfortable, it’s probably too low. 
  5. Please wear nicer clothes to church. (as in no sweat pants, ripped, stained etc). 
  6. Please dress for the weather. 

And that’s about it. 

I have a highschooler who walks to the beat of a different drum. She makes really interesting clothing choices. I have learned to appreciate her uniqueness and be proud of her complete disinterest in what other people think of her. 

I have a preteen who is starting to walk in his older sister’s footsteps. Yesterday for church he was sporting a straw hat, ray ban style sunglasses, black button-up shirt, black bow tie, sweat pants and red and white stripe Dr. Suess socks. Since we were going to church I told him No sweat pants. So he exchanged them for elastic waisted khakis. He wants me to buy him a fanny pack so he can accessorize. 

I guess my feeling is that fashion is a journey. Each person has to decide for themselves what they like. I am in no way a fashion expert of any kind, so I just keep my mouth shut, and make the occasional suggestion. 

I have some kids that are strict blue jeans and hoodies only. Some who hate jeans. Some who think that pajama pants are a viable daily option. 

Occasionally, a small child will come up with a color combination that is just painful to behold. I might speak up. Depends on how nitpicky I’m feeling that day. 

I have one child who hates putting on shoes. He owns a pair of velcro Avengers shoes and a pair of lace-up Nikes from the thrift store. So, yesterday, when he was dressed very nicely for church in khakis and a collar shirt, guess what shoes he put on? His rubber mud boots. Yep. this is the same kid who made me create the rule that you have to have two shoes on your feet, after he showed up to church with one shoe, cause he couldn’t find the other one. 

One of my little girls is blind to stains and rips. She comes down in an old fancy dress that is covered in stains and half the lace torn off. The only reason I have kept this dress is because it used to be fancy, and I thought they could use it in their dress up games. Uh No. You can’t wear that to go out. It’s covered in stains, and look at that big rip. BUT IT”S MY FAVORITE DRESS!!! YOU’RE SO MEAN!!!

Hair is also interesting. I have a six year old girl who likes to do her own hair. Uh…Would you like me to help you with that? NO! I”m doing it MYSELF! Ok. I ponder whether her teachers think she’s some poor child who has to do her own hair cause no one will help her. Ah well. 

This is not to say that I don’t try to teach my kids that we look neat and respectable when we go out in public. There’s just such a wide spectrum to “neat and respectable”. 

So, this is kind of my Public Disclaimer notice. If you are impressed or amused by my children’s clothing choices, just know that I really had nothing to do with it. It’s my way of teaching independence and individuality.