to watch the new year fall like snow...

there was snow
lots of snow
and it was piling up outside,
and still falling
and my face was plastered to the window,
in awe,
this was my first year in snow
and it was taking my breath away

new years eve,
stuck to a window,
and not just me,
but my children too,                     
only 5 at the time,
and it was just beautiful
our first snowy winter,
and i hesitated to look away
for fear of losing the holy moment,
for to me it was a holy moment,
so much that tears were rolling down my cheeks
and all noise was gone,
and prayers were being whispered from
my trembling lips

for this snow
made me understand new years eve
before this snow
celebrations eluded me,
i could not grasp the point of celebrating the year changing,
even as a child
i didn't care,
y2k, 17 years old,
i spent that new years eve alone,
in bed at ten,
it was all so pointless to me

but this snow,
perfect and white and glistening,
everything i saw,
that i was used to seeing every day,
looked innocent and new,
it was a new place, a new world,
a new experience,
new feeling
and i could think of nothing else but His words,
“Behold, I make all things new."
and i felt it, i knew it was true,
and here i was,
a NEW creation,
with my family ready to celebrate
this NEW year
looking on this NEW world
and the Author of it all was watching
and loving
and making

and i understood,
with my face to the window,
tears in my eyes
and praise on my lips,
i was celebrating the new year,
because He makes new,
 the old has gone, the New has come...

happy new year my friends,
may it be a holy moment for you,
anticipating the new
that He brings...


to delight in the after party

Not a present was under the tree,
the lights which had been shining brightly
for weeks
were neglected and not plugged in,
even the hearth was dark and ashy,
void of a fire's glow
there was no cocoa,
nothing baking,
no christmas carols playing throughout the house.

the day lay open before us,
no plans were had,
there was no one visiting and
no one to visit
it was just,
the day after christmas

while children played and baby slept,
a phone call made this mama wonder,
words spoken on the other end,
"do they feel the sadness,
now that the excitement is over?"

i question the meaning of this,
and more words come,
"you know,
after you unwrapped presents yesterday
came the boredom,
and today enters
the sadness..."

i muster up a small laugh,
while my mind ponders these ideas,
wondering if this is true,
does christmas end with boredom
and sadness
for people,
maybe even,
my own children,
young and precious,
have i failed to impart meaning into christmas,
what thoughts of importance have we cultivated
in our home?

through with the phone call,
desperate to know if they get it,
or if they are experiencing the boredom,
the sadness,
i find my young ones,
playing with new toys,
with daddy
and i sit down quietly,
not quite sure what to say,
and waves of uncertainty wash over me,
but i ask...

"are you guys sad that christmas is over?"

they look up at me with curious eyes,
smiles beaming brightly and i know
there is no sadness behind them
and an answer comes from six year old
"christmas isn't over mama.
it's always christmas.
the day of it that we get stuff is fun,
but after we get to play with our stuff,
and we get to remember Jesus
and love each other
and be nice
forever, so it's always

and i kiss his forehead,
leave them there playing
and whisper heart praise
to Him,
knowing they get it,
and together we can celebrate christmas

continuing to count my gifts...

it's always christmas
beautiful young ones who don't get bored or sad at the "end"
christmas dinner with my mama
two wonderful weeks with my little sister
God's constant provision, even when we can't see the way
being blessed
a husband who delights in play and guiding his children
the quiet moments, few though they may be...

linking with ann today



to finally get it

most christmas eves i spent
flying from san luis obispo california
to sacramento
or vice versa
to spend christmas with my mom
or dad
and i would spend the flight
with my face plastered to the window
watching for santa
and the adults on board would play around
telling me they thought they saw him

and then one year,
i think i was eleven,
i spent christmas eve
with my thirteen year old brother
in lax
(los angeles international airport)
because the weather prevented us from landing
in sacramento

the weather was so bad
in san luis
that we couldn't fly home either
so lax is where we stayed
for hours
and it was dark and scary
and we were two kids alone in an
enormous airport
and i was afraid to go to the bathroom

around ten
we flew to santa barbara
and a shuttle drove us home
the two hours,
pulling in right about midnight
christmas eve/morning

it's a good thing i had already stopped believing
in santa
or else i would have lost it all then
and a little of my childish dreams
did die that christmas eve
as we walked in the doors of our house
we had left hours earlier,
and the presents were already stacked high
under the tree,
a sight i never,
as a child,
wanted to see
until i woke up christmas morning

that year christmas lost most of its magic
and afterward it was just
a day
a day to get stuff

and years went by and
i loved christmas still
i loved it selfishly,
never beyond getting time off school
and drooling over my heap of presents

until i experienced my first christmas alive,
the year i met Grace, Love, Hope,
and i understood the other half of christmas carols
that never made sense before
about a baby being born,
the world rejoicing
and a holy night...

it was as if after 18 years of life,
my eyes were finally opened,
and i got it
i rejoiced that christmas because now
it finally made sense,
i knew what we were celebrating,
i knew why,
and i could care less if there was something under the tree,
for i was celebrating Love

*written for part of christmas in verse at the high calling blogs...*


to search for the bff

girls are cheesy,
and sappy,
they giggle and use their emotions
to get what they want
this was my excuse,
growing up,
for shunning the close companionship
of my gender

and maybe the real reason was
i was cute
and having boys for friends was
much more beneficial
because they would do whatever i wanted
and if i called they would drive hours
to save me
from the negative situations i got myself into

but i learned i was manipulative,
and i met my  man,
and my real male friends became his friends more than mine,
as it should be,
and over time they married,
and i tried to make friends with their wives,
but i find it so hard to make good friends

and today
  nancy wrote a delightful post
and i adore it,
and her,
i want what she has,
in a friend,
i find myself longing,
my longing turning into determination,
and i will,
i must,
find myself a girl best friend...

any takers? :)


to be an advent failure

i have been reading post after post
on advent
and my heart has been stirred to
begin this tradition in our home

so i sewed some pouches filled with chocolate
and hung them in our dining room
and each night we take the treats out,
eat them,
and i printed up ann's jesse tree devotional
and it's beautiful
and we have done each night
and the kids love it

but still it feels like something is missing,
like we are following everyone else,
but nothing is real,
nothing is ours...

i read without reading on our rocking chair,
watching my children instead,
girls playing with our nativity scene,
having broken off joseph's hand and a wise man's gift,
one of the wise men saying to another,
"jesus's mom is awesome!"

brother and sister reading christmas books on the couch,
discussing what they can make for gifts,
sis making a book of nature poems for grandma,
brother drawing pictures for all...

eldest child walks in the room,
looks around at our decorated living room,
wooden "joy" on the mantel,
christmas books spread all over the floor,
fire blazing,
and asks "where's the christmas music?"

as the room fills with frank sinatra bellowing
o holy night,
 husband stokes the fire,
and little ones huddle around to watch,
eyes glowing and
smiles huge...

artist child says,
"mama, can you read more of the christmas carol?"
and everyone's ears perk up
to hear more of scrooge's visit with the
ghost of christmas past

this is advent,
my family.
i realize we don't need to follow everyone's ideas,
for in those i fail,
we just need to do what we do,
love each other,
spend each day enjoying
and waiting
to celebrate His birth...

and we will continue our jesse tree,
and our advent calendar,
as long as my young ones enjoy it,
but for us,
our advent celebration is just

linking with emily

to be ever changing

heartache grabs hold of me,
i don't understand where it came from
or why
but i argue with my fickle self
about my fickle self

and just yesterday
i was floating
filled with such glee and
fearing nothing,
tossing aside the anxiety that threatened me,
trusting in Him

and where does it go?
oh, unfaithful self,
always wavering from contentment to want,
trust to fear,
peace to anxiety.

that i could look upon Him,
glorious and mighty,
loving and compassionate,
and i could stand strong...

oh fickle me,
oh Lord,
the antithesis of fickle,
always there,
always consistent,
everything there is to be grateful for
lies in You.

linking with emily

to find a way to give thanks

i grapple with ungratefulness
like a leech attached to my body,
sucking my life-blood out of me,
and i beat myself up internally
because i can't believe i would find it difficult
to give thanks

and it's not that i can't find things to be grateful for
but more it's this overwhelming discontent
that creeps up on me
in life's shadows
and blocks the sun of blessing
so i forget all that is there

and yes this is wonderful,
and God did this for us,
and i am so grateful,
but i'm just not quite feeling it,
and i'm getting so frustrated with myself,
and i feel that all too familiar breath of
darkness on my neck,
and i determine i will not turn around to
let it pull me in,
i will find a way to give thanks today

and i hear it,
softly at first,
then louder,
until it is so loud that my cold heart
hears it
and stirs,
and it's three year old daughter,
pounding out unknown sounds on her piano,
and singing with her most beautiful of
off key three year old voices
her own song,
written in her warm heart,
"oh my God, He saves"
over and over,
she plays,
she sings,
and i tear up with joy and gratitude
and now i can do nothing
except give thanks,
and i do
and darkness flees...

pondering how to give thanks today with ann...



to be where everybody knows your name

the cold air slaps our faces
and mist from the nearby ocean showers down on us
the kids think it's raining
and we tell them otherwise

smells of the barbecue waft through downtown,
tri tip grilling overloads our senses,
and yet we walk on
and the kids ogle over various fresh fruits,
strawberries or
they cannot decide,
while i choose
bell peppers and avocados,
delighted to be here,
my home,
the thursday night farmer's market
i have not attended in years

and baby is on my chest in carrier,
while twins sit shell shocked in double stroller,
pushed by daddy,
six and eight year olds hold my hands,
frightened and yet in awe of this new environment,
while eldest walks in pace with the stroller,
and i'm sure we are a sight here,
but i don't care,
for i am home
and mist is washing over me,
wetting my face,
and i lick my lips and feel the moisture in
my mouth,
and peace just envelopes me...

we walk on,
my children amazed at
my stopping six times in twenty minutes
to hug
and talk to
people i know...
never have they seen their mother
know so many people
in a crowded public place,
and every time they ask,
who was that,
and every time i respond,
a friend...

my children have never known
so many friends

the place of friends,
and to raise my children here...

for this i am so grateful
to Him
this holiday season
just saying hello...
we have made it,
moved in,
trying to get settled,
and loving it.

hope all is well my friends,
hope to be writing again soon.


to move on

well my friends,
the time has come to
unhook my link to the world beyond,
to fill a truck with all my family's
material goods
and set out to the new,
to follow behind the honkerman,
to drive south
a thousand miles,
to begin

please pray for us on this journey,
for safe, joyful travels,
easy transition,
and peace in our move...

until we get internet hooked up in our new home,
i will be thinking of you all,
love to you...


to smile and wave

he drove by and honked
and the bookworm and
the sensitive artist child were afraid,
leaping from their bikes like
a flock of birds scattering from
barging into the house,
squealing about this man whom
they didn't know,
always honking his horn
when they were outdoors,
their sweet games of
knights sword fighting,
brother and sister game of tag,
bike races,
bug hunting,
all they did outside
he noticed,
and they feared him... 

he, gray-haired and jolly faced,
they, young and too wary,
and he,
filled with joy at seeing
children be children,
not with their faces plastered to a screen,
not having their imaginations
stifled and
and they,
unsure of him,
ignoring him, running from

i always told them
to wave,
to smile,
but their childish ideas got the better of them,
and they hid
until the day they noticed
his house
for rent
and these two young ones
fearedthey had made him sad,
so sad,
he was moving away...

and so they began to watch for him,
to stop in the middle of play and
wave and
when he would drive by,
and they would proudly tell me,
"mama, we waved at
the honkerman!"

and i would tell them
how glad that made me

the autumn air was just beginning to crisp,
and our packing was barely
under way,
boys carrying heavy boxes to the garage,
i inside cleaning,
children outside playing,
i hear excited voices
coming in from the garage,
many little chitter chatters utterly
and i ask for just one voice,
so i can understand

and daddy's voice breaks in above the others,
a voice of reason in the midst of chaos,
he explains that dear old man,
the honkerman,
stopped by
with a treat for the young friends
who bring joy
into his everyday,
he tells he is moving,
and husband tells him we are too,
to california...
oh, the honkerman is surprised,
that is where i am going too...
and then he names the town he is moving to,
and my husband gasps,
it is the same town we are moving to,
shock settles on the both of them,
and they discover more,
we are moving to the same street!

and husband tells of the joy that overcomes
this beautiful elderly man,
as he catches his breath and tries 
to calmly say,
well, i guess maybe 
i will still get to wave to my
young friends.

and everyday since
he has gifted us with treats,
with comedy,
with companionship,
and yesterday he went on his way,
a thousand miles,
and we will join him in four days,
living in a little bit of paradise,
and bookworm and sensitive artist
cannot wait
to take him a love filled pie
on thanksgiving...

linking with emily


to cherish the song

i sing my babies to sleep,
i always have.
i rock them,
singing melodies of worship,
moving with them and
watching them slowly melt
into me
as they drift off

someone told me with the first,
don't do it,
make sure you put them in their crib,
let them cry themselves to sleep...

and i thought,
is it for my own convenience
that i train them
in this way?
it has never been inconvenient
for me
to hold my babies,
to experience this moment,
i drink it in,
and i have found
each child goes to sleep on their own,
in their own time,
and i'm okay with that.

because in the meantime,
we embrace eachother,
we love,
we grow...

and as i sing moses to sleep,
almost nine months,
he has now joined in
with his own sweet melody,
and i sing,
and he sings with me,
daaaa daaaa daaaa,
eyes closed,
lovingly caressing my arm
with his chubby baby fingers,

and i think
i would never give this up
for the convenience
of his sleeping
on his own...

joining with ann, counting my gifts...

babies to hold, rock, sing to
being inconvenienced
my mama's carrot cake recipe, which i made for my husband's birthday
a house to move to at home
a very successful yard sale
my brother who graciously rented us a uhaul to move home
a God who is working all things out for us...


to breathe again

covered in dirt,
i can't find an opening to
it's consuming
and these desert winds thrash about
and continue to cover
with dirt

and i try to see through
the thick layers
my eyes
and i pretend that my
vision is clear
that i understand
why i am here
when really i am disappearing
behind a fog
of desert

when the dirt is just about
to clog my throat,
and i feel
a tightening,
as if i were about to choke,
i learn the dirt
is too much for us all,
and clear air,
ocean breeze,
familiar faces and landscape,
is desired unanimously
to wash this dirt away

but confusion sets in,
will He see things the same,
is home His mode of
freeing us from the
if He wants us to be covered,
and release us in another way,
will we be accepting?
and we have to realize that
His ways are perfect,
even when we
want to run,
thinking we are dying,
He knows best...

and then He does,
He works things out,
and we get to go home...
moving a thousand miles
in ten days,
thank You Jesus...

i'm already starting to breathe again,
breathe deep,
i can almost taste that
ocean air

linking with emily



to let my arms pop up

that step of faith remains buried
it's like all that stuff i did
that i wish i didn't
and i hide it away,
in fear of what will come
if it is unearthed

it's down so deep
and freedom is just beyond reach,
and all i have to do is dig it out,
but what if...
and every time the what if's come
it is buried just a little more
and i am reminded the hard part
is taking that step
that once i do,
God moves,
like moses
who had to raise his arms,
God parted the red sea,
and i wonder if he was like me,
frightened about what would happen
if he took that step
of faith,
if he raised his arms,
because he knew he had to,
but maybe that faith was so deep,
so deep,
he had to reach inside himself and pull it out,
rummage around inside,
through the junk, the sin, the fear,
the pain, the trial and error,
until finally he grabbed hold of it,
and up popped his arms,
and God said,
there we go,
and the sea parted...

so here i am,
and i've found quite a bit i want to forget,
but i think i've almost found that faith,
i feel it in my hands,
i think my arms are starting to pop up...

linking with emily

to see passion again...

she walks through the door of our house,
long blond hair flowing behind her,
incredibly beautiful and breathtaking,
he follows behind her,
bandana wrapped around his head,
tattoos covering his arms,
which make all thoughts of despair flee
plastered to their familiar faces

and she tells of her heart wrenching experiences,
just back from an around the world trip
with YWAM,
stories of the beauty of kenya,
sorrow in india,
poverty in cambodia
lack of hospitality, and God's enduring faithfulness
in rome...
and she is a masterpiece,
cannot speak without tears
forming in her eyes,
words pouring out praising Him,
in awe of Him,
of His hand moving in this broken world,
and confusion appears,
her soul cries out to help, to love,
and she longs to know why...

why we live in a land of plenty,
where people are overflowing with stuff,
which will rot and waste away,
and why there are shacks
baby defecates through the cracks in the floor
for they cannot afford diapers,
and two brothers arrested,
desperate to find work to care for their
siblings and grandparents,
sneaking into a land not their own,
the only land with work...

she doesn't understand,
and compassion bursts forth in her
and she is beautiful...

and he is quiet,
and watches her with such adoration
as she speaks,
and he,
who waited patiently while she was gone,
wonders how their lives will change,
she set on fire,
and he ignited by her passion,
and they ready to go
and do,
she wants to dance the steps of angels,
and he to play the music of love,
and they to serve God

they spend two days visiting us,
two days that were supposed to be
a few hours,
two days of

they tell us we bless them,
time spent with a family,
the love and joy of children,
and do they know it is them
that blesses us?
to hear their god drenched passion,
see His mighty hand move
in their lives,
did they know how we thirsted
for true fellowship,
how we were parched,
alone in the desert,
desperate for genuine prayer,
for family?

and He brought them to us,
for a taste,
for restoration,
and they are beautiful,
and He is beautiful...

linking with emily


to seek in silence

tip-toeing up the stairs,
through the halls of the house,
so as not to wake the children,
six of them now,
sleeping softly,
two of them camping out on the floor...

and it's so quiet,
my eyes close to breathe it in,
and the silence is so loud,
i think i might even be able to hear

and i whisper soul cries to Him,
overwhelmed by silence,
by darkness,
and time passes,
i still feel heavy,
and wonder when He will thrust open the heavens
and rain His peace,
and His strength down upon me...

crawling into bed,
lonesome and tear-stained,
husband pulls me close and whispers
precious secrets,
while soft snores from
crib sleeping babe flow through the room,

and my heart slows,
and the tears dry up,
as His peace flows through me,
and calms my tempestuous soul,
knowing that His ways are perfect,
and He rarely chooses to meet us where we would
He does meet us,
in His ways...

so i thank Him today...

His peace which surpasses all understanding
knowing that His ways are perfect
six babes to fill this house
one husband to pull me close
friends from home visiting today, after not seeing them for two years
the scent of pumpkin permeating my house
things to hope for
new books to read
words to pour out on paper
never a dull moment

linking with ann today

holy experience


to chronicle a day...

*a bit different from my typical prose, but i have been asked by various people about our homeschool, and so i will share here about our day...*

three children formally schooling,
three littles roaming the floor at our feet...

we have found our niche and a way of life
using the charlotte mason method,
and the ambleside online curriculum.

our eldest is in the second term of year 9,
thoroughly  convinced he knows more than most people,
due to the depth of the books he is reading
while dear 8 year old bookworm daughter is in the second term of year 2,
though she would devour the books rapidly  and already be
through year 12,
if she had it her way
sensitive artist child, 6, has just begun term 1 of year 1,
and pleads to read An Island Story,
and nothing but,
day in and day out...

our days begin before the sun rises,
the three littlest and i awaken
while daddy is getting ready for work...

i make his lunch
while littles play
and he enjoys the early morning fun of
his youngest children.

kisses goodbye from daddy/husband,
cereal poured for twins
(horrible, awful cereal, yes, shhh...,
i feed it to my children, and sometimes even...
to myself...)

meals are typically shared together
around the table where we make memories,
i have yet to organize that first meal of the day,
it is a wild free for all,
eat what and when you want,
as long as you do it by 7:30...

mama sips on that delicious brew known as coffee
(otherwise known as christian crack,  oops, did i say that?),
and drinks in God's word,
strength for the day,
until little big man gets grumpy,
and i nurse him,
love flowing from me to him,
and he drifts off to his sleepy land,
all before the eldest three
arise by 7:00...

breakfast is eaten,
children are groomed and dressed,
although the three year old twins occasionally lose their clothes,
dishes are done,
house is clean,
and 8:00 comes before we know it...

15 year old reads his Bible,
while i attempt to get everyone else settled...

ideally i begin circle time with 8, 6, and on a good day,
3 year olds
now, but,
let's be honest,
that doesn't happen very often.

bookworm daughter does her cursive,
fifteen year old finishes Bible,
moves quickly into
language arts...

sensitive artist child
has copywork,
and then draws a picture
that corresponds,

all while twins are playing...
"reading" books...

somewhere in that time,
circle time begins...
bible reading,
memory work,
artist study,
composer study,

we get it done, somehow,
and the children love it,
though interruptions are very, very frequent.

we have made it to lunch time!
and what a wonderful time it is...
eldest or i make it,
we all eat it,
twins go down for a nap,
while baby is snoozing in another of his own.

our ambleside reading begins...
for the eldest,
his selections include a tale of two cities, the english constitution, common sense,
churchill's history of the english speaking peoples, essay on man, the god who is there,
among many delightful others
bookworm daughter is taken to another place
with her books,
an island story, this country of ours, the little duke, the wind in the willows,
tree in the trail, beautiful stories from shakespeare
those are just a taste
while young artist
listens intently to me read
an island story, paddle to the sea, just so stories, aesop's fables, fifty famous stories retold,
and more...

15 and 8 year old read on their own,
6 year old reads to me from the 2nd mcguffey's reader,
and then i read his ambleside readings to him
and, of course, he narrates...
8 year old narrates all to me,
though she occasionally writes or draws...

15 year old narrates one reading orally,
then he has three written narrations,
one summary,
one creative,
one notes...

he has a specific essay to write once a week,
and latin twice a week...

now we arrive at around 2:30,
all sleepers are awake,
we tidy up loose ends of our lessons,
chores are done,
free time is upon us...

outside play,
nature study,
outside, outside, not in...
except occasionally in...

dinner is made,
we eat,
get ready for bed,
we read,
watch an occasional show or movie,
read to the kids,
some nights we have family Bible studies,
some we have guests,
we take night walks,
we love to watch the sunset,

it's chaotic, yet peaceful,
totally unpredictable,
and totally relaxing...

and i must add that all this is done
with loads of interruptions from the three littles...
and we all happily take turns playing,
and helping them...

and that's about all,
dinner's about ready to come out of the oven,
night is about ready to fall,
children are soon to be called indoors
and tonight's activity is a trip to grandma's...


to stand

he's just starting to stand,
and inevitably he wobbles and falls,
as i fall,
broken and bruised
and my weak self,
longs to stay there,
but he is youngest of six, strong baby
and he climbs back up again,
not even weary of the last fall,
he trusts it will be okay,
and i am stained but grace covered mama,
desperate to push aside remembrance of the last fall,
to trust Him to sustain me...

and together we stand again,
yet standing.

linking with emily today...



to celebrate life

Drenched in God's love by the news
the day we learned I would carry His child,
that He chose us to cherish,
a new one, at the time the fourth...

And he looked at me with devotion,
the woman carrying his baby,
another life to fill his,
another child...

weeks flew by,
and he pampered me
and smiled when he saw me,
and rubbed my stomach which was soon to swell with love,
holding hands as if it were the first,
we walked into the doctor's office,
in awe of the journey ahead of us...

they performed an ultrasound as a pregnancy confirmation,
and i wasn't going to complain,
any chance to see the life growing within,
no matter how small,
even just the blinking dot our baby was then,
in the first weeks of life...

"there's a heart, do you see dot's baby's heartbeat."

and we stared at the dot,
the precious dot,
thanking God for the dot,
our baby...

and in silence came fear...
"do you see what I see?"

I answer quickly,
"I see the heart"

now directed towards my husband,
"do you see what I see?"

and his response,
"I don't know, what do you see?"

"Two heartbeats."

and my husband quickly asks,
"my baby has two hearts?"

and then it slowly dawns on me...

two of them,
precious, beautiful girls,
Ruth Annabelle
Hannah Bee
born September 28, 2007

they are such a light in our lives,
thank You Jesus...

107 our twins turning three!

108 the joy they bring us

109 the patience we have learned because of them

110 leaves beginning to change

111 chili, corn bread and apple pie... my favorite things to make in autumn

112 God's sovereignty

113 the hope of a possible move

114 the kindness of strangers

joining with ann, counting my gifts...

holy experience


To awaken

To awaken from this self-induced coma,
to crawl out from this shell which I hid under,
alone with my thoughts,
my prayers,
my hopes...

when hopes entangle us in a land of false reality,
always waiting for fulfillment to come,
not able to live in the moment,
dreaming of that which may be,
but may not be...

and my eyes have been glued to house listings
on computer screens
while beautiful children play behind me,
their sing song voices and delightful laughter
calling to me,
but my shell is hard over me
and i can't look away,
i just might find the one...
the place to call home,
away from here,
there where i want to be... 

my home, and i knew if i visited i would no longer be content here...
but the kids giggle and play,
and crack my shell,
and I see their angelic faces
and remember the words which I must hold fast to,
to be content, whatever the circumstances...

even if here we remain,
or if we move to my home, the place I love,
or if God has another land for us to call home,
if the cupboard is full,
if it is empty,
when the sun shines down,
and when the sky showers us with rain...
to be content

and I may not live in my earthly paradise,
I may be away from friends and family,
but I have a husband that loves me without question,
and six beautiful faces that smile at me and make my heart swoon
like a little school girl with her first crush...
and I look out the window at the rain pouring down,
and remember,
"God's in His heaven, all's right with the world."  -Robert Browning


to say hi!

Sorry to all my friends for being so silent this week...
we have been diligently praying about moving...
vacationing at home left an empty place,
a desire to return to my hometown...

lots going on in my mind,
in my husband's...
no clear answer yet,
but thus the reason for my silence...

i wanted to post something though, and link with emily's imperfect prose...

so i am linking this old post of mine...

love you all!

To make my way home

I watched the sunflowers along the way
from the 5 in Northern California,
beginning as soon as we left
the majestic beauty of Shasta County

down the 5, past bad memory land of sacramento,
patches of sunflowers lining the highway,
and they didn't stop,
three hours later,
followed by yellow love,
now on the 41,
and they were still there.

getting stuffy in the car,
longing for air, for freedom,
and i look out my window
and they're still there...
every where,

as if they have taken over the california highways...

and i imagine a car of granola kids,
driving the length of california
sprinkling sunflower seeds out the window
as they go...

and when they reach shasta county,
they stop,
in awe of the immense forests of trees,
mt. shasta,
the serene creek running throughout,
they decide no added beauty is needed here...

My husband laughs when I tell him my story,
where I think the sunflowers came from...
I tell him the california poppy should not be the state flower,
it should be the sunflower...
he smiles...

we drive on,
I watch them out the window,
a constant companion on this drive,
a delightful companion...

and I am just a broken person trying to make my way home,
in more ways than one,
looking for beauty wherever I can find it along the way...

linking with emily today...

To make memories of beauty

He drives for hours, 
through crying,
through laughing,
with sleeping,
and playing,
and breakdowns of car- exhausted children...


and times come when mama can't stand it,
hours away from anything like home ,
but just wanting to drop it all and leave the car 
and stay there...
who knows where...
make a life here because at least then we won't have to drive anymore...

and he smiles,
hugs her,
reminds her that it's okay when babies cry,
we'll get there eventually,
let's just enjoy here,

and he drives on...

and beauty appears around every turn...

and they stand in awe of the God who created...

when long-haired bookworm daughter finds blackberries,
when she gasps as "the most beautiful butterfly i have ever seen"
flies by her

when they are together,
experiencing His glory in His creation,

no longer making good timing on the cramped, two day drive,
but not caring either,
because instead they are making good memories...


and creation seems to scream out,
HE who made you made me,
He who loves you crafted me for you,
so you can see beauty,
get a taste of the beauty that He is,
drink me in,
breathe me in, 
I am real...