To Love

i dream of farms and forests

2012-02-06T07:49:00.000-08:00

i long to raise my kids on a farm,
with animals to care for and crops to tend,
with hard work combined with love and togetherness,
with my husband, their daddy, working around us
everyday,
instead of leaving and giving his days to
"the man",
to watch the sun rise over corn fields and
children enjoying the fruit of their labor,
being nourished by that which they grew themselves.

i long to raise my kids in the forest,
with trees surrounding home and
acres of mystery to explore,
to play,
to imagine.
where a small stream flows and they
fish there with their daddy,
or alone,
or each other.
where snow falls and blankets the forest
in glistening white each winter,
and snuggling inside by the fire is not just
peaceful,
it's a necessary escape from the cold outside.

and it's funny that i live in a place
most consider paradise,
and yet my dreams take me out of here.
but this is where He has placed us,
for now,
and He tells me to
"be content"and to
"give thanks"
and when i look at the smiling faces of my children,
the natural beauty which appears
wherever i look,
titmice flying around our garden every morning,
immense california oak trees engulfing our home,
deer walking through up our driveway late at night,
pink sun rise over the hills on clear mornings and
deep fog which rolls in from the ocean consuming all sight
on the others.
when i watch my children study the beauty around us,
use their imaginations, together,
in play,
when we can lie on the grass and watch the birds,
the squirrels
on a february afternoon,
and children can roam,
can be free,
i can't help but be content,
but open my lips in praise for
all
He
gives.

and my dreams of farms and forests may remain,
and may,
one day,
be fulfilled,
but if they are not i know i am blessed,
and i will continue to be content,
for this,
all of this,
is beautiful.

weekending...

2012-02-05T14:22:00.000-08:00

this weekend i
sat out front on a blanket,
drinking tea and knitting,
pearl lying by me,
on the grass,
in the warm sunshine while
three littles ran around and played,
rolling in grass, picking flowers and
two middles and the eldest played
survival,
pretending they were stranded,
trying to start fire with moss and magnifying glass,
{no fire started, but they did make smoke!},
purifying pond water by boiling it over fire
{fire started with a match}
and making fishing hook with sticks and
attempting to fish in the pond.
and it makes this mama heart soar to see
sixteen year old playing all day
with nine and nearly eight year old,
and hearing laughter and such
joy,
{and if you're interested the game ended when they were
eaten by a bear}.
husband grilled tri-tip,
and if you're not from california
and have never eaten tri-tip,
this is the.
best.
meat.
and today is another outdoor day,
after church we came home and haven't been in much,
and it's beautiful and
no,
we are not watching the superbowl,
we are just sitting out,
playing,
reading,
husband and eldest are
fixing a car and
ahead of us lies an easy nacho dinner
and lots of love.

**all pictures taken by 8 year old Josiah, and 4 year old Hannah**

linking with amanda

on children and nature and culture

2012-01-27T11:06:00.000-08:00

have we become a culture that is so immersed in "entertainment",
so far removed from what is real,
nature,
creation,
beauty,
a culture so overwhelmed and filled with "stuff"
that to see people, children who love
who embrace
real,
amazing,
beautiful and
ignore the false,
could care less about the "stuff"
is unbelievable,
is shocking?

i just found so amusing,
but sad,
that a kind neighbor of ours stopped by
to ask if our children would like some games,
some toys, some movies.
she told me how she always saw them playing outside,
so she thought that maybe they didn't have very much
stuff.
because my children spend most of their time in nature,
running, laughing,
playing,
watching, enjoying,
she thought they were void of things.
it was abnormal to her that children would want to be
outdoors.

and this made me sad.
children raised on television, on so much stuff,
that they are out of touch with real life,
with beauty
that it has become out of the ordinary for
a child to just be.

“Our children no longer learn how to read the great Book of Nature from their own direct experience or how to interact creatively with the seasonal transformations of the planet. They seldom learn where their water comes from or where it goes. We no longer coordinate our human celebration with the great liturgy of the heavens.” – Wendell Berry

a saturday daybook

2012-01-21T11:04:00.000-08:00

::rhythms::
life with a newborn is slow, peaceful, beautiful.
days are filled with cuddling,
reading piles of books to children,
knitting,
nursing,
cooking,
running outdoors and breathing in crisp air,
watching pigeons nesting in our trees and
sparrows flitting about our slumbering garden,
perching on rose bushes just beginning to bud.
it rained last night,
the first rain in a long time,
and this morning's wet ground smells fresh and new.

even though this is my sixth baby,
seventh child,
i am doing all i can to move slowly through each day
and drink in each moment,
for these newborn days are so fleeting and
i want them to last...

::creating::
with children to care for and adore,
a newborn to nurse and cuddle,
a husband to draw close to,
a God to be in constant communion with,
and a house to {somewhat} care for,
time to create has been scarce,
but i did just cast on this vest for miss pearl.
it will take awhile,
i'm sure,
but it gives my hands something to work on...

::reading::
i've a bit more time to read,
as it is my normal occupation when nursing,
which is a pretty constant thing these days.
though it has been easier to read fiction,
which is not what i typically read.
on my to read list for awhile,
i have finally picked up a girl of the limberlost,
and so far,
i love.
with a nursing babe,
a cup of tea,
and a gaggle of children playing on the floor at my feet,
these slow moments of reading and
simply being
are
perfect.

::contemplating::
i have been in thought about how some people can be so cruel.
due to our lifestyle choices we have had many hurtful comments,
and sometimes they come from the most unexpected places.
my husband is so gracious to brush them off,
but i dwell on them and allow them to affect me.
and i just don't understand why people feel our choices are
their business,
especially when their criticisms are so unfounded.
they don't like that we have so many children,
that we homeschool,
that our children *gasp* do chores,
and on the other hand,
that we allow our children to be children,
make childish comments,
spend hours outdoors,
devote time to their own interests,
and not expect them to be mini-adults,
to be perfect and
kind all the time.

let me apologize ahead of time,
for my layla is amazing and beautiful,
she is wise beyond her years and has a love of nature so deep
that she would spend hours in the trees watching the birds,
everyday,
but if you were to meet her,
to introduce yourself to her,
she would ignore you.
ask her a question and she will pretend she didn't hear you.
she is very shy at first and uncomfortable,
and some people may make comments about how terrible we are
to let her be so rude,
but we will not force her.
she is uncomfortable,
she is a child.
she is not rude or disobedient.
and if she is given the time to get to know you,
if she spends any amount of time around you,
she will open up and
you will see those amazing qualities that she has.

you see,
we allow our children to be children,
to be who they are,
and we love them and encourage them and
know that these qualities they have are God given
and in His time they will work out perfectly for
each one of these precious children.

for now,
we just love them,
guide them,
and pray for and with them.

::thanking::
for each of these children
for each slow day
for Peace surpassing understanding
for Joy in the morning, in the night, in the always
{this, my forever christmas decoration. never comes down}

for friends always there
for my rock of a husband
for forgiveness and the ability to forgive
for beauty everywhere
for children who count each other as their best friends

for each. new. day.

to watch the new fall like snow

2012-01-16T06:36:00.000-08:00

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,
2008,
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,
perfect,
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 the new year
finally.
before this snow
all
celebration 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
new...

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...

continuing to count His gifts today...
953 a new creation
954 the new life of pearl jean
955 pink baby stuff... everywhere
956 baby breath
957 baby smell
958 children running around outdoors, all day long
959 this beautiful post by suzy
960 the wisdom of my husband which often leaves me speechless
961 cups of tea, books and snuggles on sick days
962 sleeping all night with a newborn in my arms
963 friends whose words and prayers make life beautiful
964 snow, though far away from me, and removed from my life, still there is snow

to share {this moment}

2012-01-13T07:19:00.000-08:00

{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 and remember.

linking with soulemama

to tell about pearl

2012-01-09T11:32:00.000-08:00

so some have asked me to share pearl's birth story,
if you are not into that you can skip this post
and pearl and i will not be offended :)

as we all know,
this precious wee one did not come when we expected,
{isn't that usually the way,
things never happen when we expect or
how we expect}
and we were beginning to feel a bit anxious for her arrival...

we really needed {wanted} her to be born before january,
and many people had told us they knew {thought} she would make her arrival
december 30th,
so when i awoke at 5:30 on december 30th
with contractions ten minutes apart,
i thanked God for the beginning and rose to greet the day
i would meet little pearl...

now i know most mamas wouldn't jump to conclusions,
"knowing" the day had come,
but with my history it seemed so likely...
i typically began having contractions ten minutes apart and
within an hour they would be at five minutes,
and within 5-6 hours there would be a new baby in my arms.
and so,
i let my midwife know my contractions had begun and
my husband took the day off of work.
we prepared for baby
and she didn't come...
all day, contractions ten to twenty minutes apart, and
i was so confused,
this had never happened to me before.

through the night and into the next day...
new year's eve day arrived and met another morning
of constant contractions,
never progressing,
and i cried
so confused as to what was happening,
and why.
i knew she would come eventually, but
what was this?

and then,
as i checked in with my midwife in the morning,
my heart broke a little bit when
she told me she was preparing to go to another birth...
so my loving husband took me out to get my mind off labor,
driving me around to garage sales,
my number one good {bad} habit,
(and yes, on new years eve on the coast of california,
people have garage sales)
and it worked,
my mind was preoccupied for a couple of hours.
at home i learned the other woman's labor had slowed,
my midwife just waiting
for one of us...
we took the kids to the park and the store and then,
driving home at 5:30,
my contractions suddenly went from ten to five minutes apart.

we didn't want to get our hopes up though,
so we waited,
and an hour later when they were still five minutes,
and getting stronger,
i called the midwife and her wonderful assistant,
and they,
on their way to a new years eve shindig,
were greatly excited and wanted to know if they should come,
but i,
still not wanting to get my hopes up,
said we should wait a bit.
by 8:30 they were still 5 minutes,
and getting stronger,
so they
dropped off kids at various locations
and came to the house.

let's see...
moses was asleep,
hannah and ruth were asleep,
josiah and ian were doing something together somewhere
and layla, sweet layla
planted herself on a chair in the living room and
determined to stay there until pearl arrived.

at first we sat,
talked,
my husband made jokes and
held my hand through every contraction.
he played some guitar,
the boys went to bed,
i had a snack,
layla kept sitting on her chair,
and my husband kept making us laugh.
with the new year approaching, we wondered
if pearl would come before the fireworks,
before january...
and as fireworks exploded outside we told eachother
happy new year,
and went on laboring...
right about midnight,
the contractions got stronger and closer,
we filled up the birth tub,
and eventually i got in...
pure relief.
let me say, if you have never labored in water,
it is a beautiful thing.
pain subsides substantially...
at one point i had to get out of the water and
the pain was immediate and constant and
getting back in that warm tub was
a.m.a.z.i.n.g.

then came the pressure,
the unbearable moments,
and then she was flying out into my husband's waiting hands...
then to my chest,
and eventually layla,
in absolute awe,
cut the umbilical cord.

2:16 am,
barely into the new year,
we embraced little pearl jean,
welcoming her into this large, loving family
and we haven't stopped breathing her in deep,
haven't gotten back to normal,
we are
just
loving her.

to introduce...

2012-01-01T10:49:00.000-08:00

Pearl Jean Hughes

January 1, 2012

8 lbs. 1 oz.

born at home, everyone is good.

to give some facts

2011-12-28T08:06:00.000-08:00

while my mind is still blank in matters of prose,
i will give you all some facts from my mind and life
these days...

two days over due. it really is frustrating, especially when everyone expected her to be born early and when everyone else you know who was pregnant and due after you has already delivered. but, i know, all in His timing... it will be perfect. and the good thing is that i have been able to care for little moses who has been feeling terribly the past few days. just snuggle and hold and kiss him. it would be pretty difficult to take care of him like this as well as caring for a newborn... so i'm seeing the positive.

i joined pinterest again... i deleted my account awhile back for various reasons, but now that i have no brain to write anything and i am pretty much too pregnant to move, it is the perfect momentary habit. i may not stay forever, but for now...

christmas was super. relaxing and chaotic all rolled into one... and now i'm really glad it's over.

i thought of lots of things to write while i was lying in bed last night... now they are all gone.

my brother has been staying at our house since monday the 19th, and he vows not to leave until the baby is born. although he just told me if she's not born by thursday the 29th they have to go. that's a really long time, but we are loving it. he is the most sane person in my family, at least the only one who doesn't think i am crazy, and it has been so nice having them here. though my midwife thinks that's why i'm not going into labor, because i'm having a home birth and we have extra people in our house. so i guess we will see if she's born on the 30th.

i hate cereal. when moses eats it he cries and cries. he never wants to eat from his own bowl, only the twins, and he cries until they give him theirs. if i wasn't so pregnant i would make some breakfast for them, but for now...

it's getting warm here. we had a few weeks of awesome, cold 60 degrees, but it's supposed to get up to 76 by next week and i am just not okay with that. i am a seasons person. i want winter. i want snow. instead we might just go hang out at the beach and play in the water at the end of december and this makes me very. sad.

my kids are really cute. it would be neat to see this new one.

some of you know this and some don't but my husband was once a pastor, and then we were living in washington for awhile church planting, and now we are back in california (hence the no winter). God has really been putting church planting on our hearts again, so we will see what comes of that... if you pray you could do that for us... for direction and all that.

moses skips everywhere he goes and it is incredibly adorable.

i am incredibly grateful for the friendship of you. some of you have become such an important part of my life, my children even know you by blog title. i will talk to my husband about jodi or nancy or jewels or tonia, and my kids will say "oh, the curious acorn, or the out of her mind lady, or the wondering eyes lady or the lady who studies brown." they especially like when i talk about joann because then they say, "ostriches look funny!" so thank you for your friendship and prayers and i know you are all anxious for this baby too so hopefully she will be here soon.

to delight in the after party

2011-12-26T07:35:00.000-08:00

*this, reposted from the day after Christmas last year...
and a needed reminder as the after party begins*

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,
simply,
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,
together,
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
josiah,
"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
christmas!"

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

734. everyday, christmas
735. one day closer to meeting new wee one
736. week of a house filled with family, laughter, joy
737. health
738. kind thoughts and prayers of others
739. children who get it
740. little girls singing
741. the quiet in the after party

to find peace

2011-12-17T09:17:00.000-08:00

fog is abed out windows in early morning,
and we sit with candlelight filling our home,
children eat breakfast of pancakes followed by candy canes
for 'tis the season,
and this tired mama settles into quiet morning
with coffee, blanket and book.

dark, slow mornings rejuvenate and
there is something beautiful about
expectation and
calm.
knitting, reading, drawing and
snuggling are
the activities at hand and
the children feel it too,
this holy calm,
for they whisper as they speak to one another,
and i have not heard a cry
all morning.

herein lies peace,
and i will take it while it is so evident,
and as the day wears on
with chaos,
play,
cries,
fights and
laughter,
i will take it as peace too,
for it is and
i will cherish
each
moment
for each
is
beauty,
the quiet and the loud,

and He is present in both.

to share this moment

2011-12-15T20:32:00.000-08:00

{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, savour and remember.

still.

no baby.

linking here

to plant seeds... (a gift for nancy)

2011-12-12T06:10:00.000-08:00

***and yet another repost, we all know why, this one for my dear friend nancy,
because it is her favorite, and she keeps yelling at me to have a baby, so i'll give her
this until i can give her baby pictures***

I haven't a thing to say to her, and I try not to look at her, but my eyes keep gazing in her direction.
She is girl who is hurting in so many ways,
and I am woman who was girl hurting,
and I have overcome through Him who gives me strength,
and she can be too,
but my mouth won't open
and my feet won't move,
plastered into the sidewalk
like the horrible statue of Puck in the downtown center,
all I can do is stare...

I see me in her,
that long ago, attention hungry, willing to do anything to get people to notice me girl,
and it tears me up inside something fierce,
when I see myself,
and know what is happening,
and I know the Answer,
but I don't think I can give it,
because I know I wouldn't have taken it.

And it all comes back...
the shaking hands,
the empty stomach,
the tears and the ache and everything I wrote and
everything I did.

And I remember the Peace
which surpasses all understanding,
how it stilled my hands,
filled my stomach
and caused that ache to cease...

And I long to give it to
girl dressed in black who
wears sorrow on her face the way most girls her age wear makeup,
but I see those who tried to give it to me,
who only pushed me further away...

and I recall the one,
the woman with children,
all smiling and laughing those beautiful smiles and sweet laughs,
and I remember thinking she would glare at me with eyes
that said,
why must you sit there, why do my children have to see you, why can't you just go away
and she would walk as far away from sad, life-hating girl as possible,
the way most mothers with their little ones did.

But then, she didn't.
Holding love together while she held her children's hands,
walking right in front of me,
so close I could touch them with my scarred hands,
she smiled at me,
real, caring, love-sending smile,
and staring in my eyes spoke words which woke my dying soul,
"Beautiful day, isn't it?"

And though she didn't give me life that day,
she was planting seeds which would be watered one day by someone else,
and would begin to sprout into this beautiful mess of a tangled but still growing garden
that I am...

I walk right by her,
silent girl crying out louder than all the noise this downtown makes,
holding hands with two of my little gifts,
and I find her eyes, dark and full of pain,
and I smile at her,
hoping to transfer love with this smile,
and I say to her,
"Beautiful day, isn't it?"

Walking away,
whispering prayers for her,
let these seeds be watered and grow...

to share this moment

2011-12-09T05:59:00.000-08:00

{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, savour and remember.

linking with amanda, and still. waiting. for. this guy's baby sister

to make her arrival

to learn the love of a f(F)ather

2011-12-08T11:22:00.000-08:00

Wind blows hard on my neck,
and I shiver fierce, laugh aloud and I wonder
is this Papa's way of playing, tickling me,
His child?
I close green eyes and breathe moment in,
Him, me, here, us, play,
I can feel Him, I know Him and
here is safe, is peace.

And all is broken with yells from house,
carried down the street,
ringing out above the roar of car engines and hungry call of jays overhead.
I gather self, fighting against urge to stay in this peace,
but how can I stay when there is no peace for
the sensitive artist child howling loud over minor frustrations?
I must go in, try to ease this storm...
Whispered prayers pour forth while I make way from
contentment to chaos,
"Jesus, You know what he needs. Show us, guide us now, in this moment,
for his good."
Door closes and I see my sweet boy crying, yelling,
desperate for an end to his frustrations,
frustrations which no one knows but him.
Husband standing in kitchen, I see he is murmuring prayers too,
and we smile knowing smiles at each other,
he nods,
together we hug boy, love flowing from our calm
to his turmoil, and he tries to fight but
slowly, gently,
his yells subside and become whimpers and whispers of "I'm sorry mama,
I'm sorry daddy."

And we forgive, of course we do,
and sensitive artist child doesn't even remember why he was upset,
but now the sorrow overtakes him, guilt ridden for having lost control
again
and his seven year old body shakes as he looks up remorseful,
his sadness pouring over with words of contempt,
"I just can't do it right. Why did God even make us anyway?"

Taken aback, I search for right words, and stammer forth with
apologetics that are meaningless to a child,
and why am I trying to explain in these terms and
only confusing him?
Husband looks at me
and then he pulls boy to him, wraps arms around and says,
"God made us because He wanted children. Just as mama and I
wanted you and your brothers and sisters.
We would have been fine on our own,
but we wanted you to love, to care for, to give to, to love us.
That's what God wanted. That's why He made us."

And tears stop, and this mama catches her breathe for
this man I married has said it right, more beautifully,
more true than I ever could,
"God wanted children"
and how could I forget, me,
just moments ago basking in the love of Daddy for daughter,
how could I forget He wanted us, wanted children
and sensitive artist child smiles,
he gets it, God wanted him, us,
and we want him,
and perfection is not a requirement,
the only requirement is love.

*** edited repost,

still waiting for baby

to yarn along

2011-12-07T07:24:00.000-08:00

so this is not my typical post,
but i'm just awaiting this baby and she's not coming yet,
so i want to post something and
words are far from mind,
and thus here i am, happy to share with ginny's yarn along
what i am reading,
and what i am knitting...

having (finally) finished the baby blanket,
but still waiting for the baby,
i cast on these leg warmers for her little baby legs,
a super fast and easy pattern,
i'm working on #2 already.

and on the reading front,
never one to be able to read just one a time,
i'm (still) reading (again) one thousand gifts,
reading (again) the rhythm of family,
to the twins little house in the big woods,
and to all the kids, the birds christmas carol.

and it's peaceful,
it's simple,
it's beautiful,
and we are waiting...

to wait

2011-11-30T12:52:00.000-08:00

***an edited repost, because i have no words as we prepare for baby these last few weeks. i share these words with you, wisdom from my husband which i return to often***

And, behold, the LORD passed by,

and a great and strong wind rent the mountains,

and brake in pieces the rocks before the LORD;

but the LORD was not in the wind:

and after the wind an earthquake;

but the LORD was not in the earthquake:

¹²And after the earthquake a fire;

but the LORD was not in the fire:

and after the fire a still small voice.

1 Kings 19:11-12

A hush had fallen over the house,

children tucked into beds,

I sitting, praying, nursing the littlest...

sounds of nature creeping in through the window,
rain pounding, wind howling,

husband preparing for the next day of long work,

peace settling in...

Climbing into bed beside me,

kissing the cheek of the nursing babe,

the cheek of the mama, his words soft and perfect...

"keep on loving me, keep on trusting me."

And the unexpected voicing of those words unleashes emotions from my tired mama soul,

"I do, I do... but I don't understand this season in our lives... what do you see that I don't?"

His gentleness continues as he speaks words I need to hear,

"I don't see anything, I just know we are where we are supposed to be at this time,

doing what we need to be doing..."

"Yes, but... it's so hard..."

And it is so hard, not knowing the next steps, just trusting God is working everything out,

and thinking the rest must be just around the bend,
but getting around that bend and seeing another storm...

Momentary silence, then...

thunder shakes the house, I shake along with it letting out a quick gasp, and I am not used to this thunder...

it comes often, but my beach-front california girl self will not become complacent to this frequent washington rumbling...

Return to silence and stillness,

the sounds of baby swallowing his mamas milk,

and husband's love rolls off his tongue with words that spread a soothing ointment over me...

"remember when elijah was waiting for God? and you remember He was not in the earthquake or the fire,

He was in the still small voice.. and I know, we all remember He was in the still small voice,

but what people tend to forget is...

before the still small voice,

there was an earthquake

and there was a fire."

words resonate and i think they would knock me down if i were standing, and yes,

there was an earthquake
and a fire,

and then came
the still
small
voice,

and here I am in the fire,
and it is so hot,
sweat pouring off of me,
but i know,
I KNOW

that the still small voice WILL COME...

and i will wait,
earth shaking,
fire burning,
i
will
wait.

to share a daybook {Nov. 28}

2011-11-28T07:57:00.000-08:00

well, for at least today, i am jumping on the daybook bandwagon
as katherine and tonia have done lately,
borrowing prompts from these beautiful ladies,
mainly because i want to write something and yet
am immensely pregnant (full term in one week) and
i am just not able to write much,
so here i am...

living seasonally…

thanksgiving found us alone,
just the eight of us,
for the first time.
it was quiet, relaxed and beautiful.
we made the foods we love,
took time throughout the day, moving slowly,
there was no rush to eat at a particular time,
no worry about when,
just
each other.
though there was a bit of sorrow over the lack
of family and friends,
we enjoyed every moment.

and as soon as it was over,
the children's focus shifted to preparations for
that joyous day known as christmas,
and decorations were pulled out,
a tree was picked out,
and new days of anticipation and
preparing of hearts are now upon us,
along with the unique situation of preparing for
our new baby as
we follow mary preparing for hers,
the Christ child.

towards thanksgiving...

these days have been so slow,
and so peaceful,
just as i like them,
they have given me such time to reflect on
all the beauty, all the gift and
breathe it all in...

our dearest friends,
living in a place of such. beauty.,
God always, always providing, even in the most mysterious of ways,
my mama buying me fancy cloth diapers after years of old school prefolds and diaper covers, (can i just tell you how excited this makes me?)
moving closer and closer to seeing her little face

towards a reading life...

reading too many books at once,
as usual,
finally making my way through a long put off book,
gift from the sea by anne morrow lindburgh and
the sayings of the desert fathers,
which is so deep and challenging,
my heart is being stirred in only the first
few pages.

establishing rhythm…

i feel we are more out of rhythm right now than
establishing,
with all of the seasonal changes and
life preparations we are undergoing,
but as i look at our days of
chores,
reading,
baking,
playing,
learning,
and snuggling
intermingled with the seasonal delights of
cocoa,
fire burning,
christmas music playing,
children making presents for others,
and rosy smiling faces,
i realize rhythm is there,
it's just shifting and
it's beautiful.

creating beauty…

just having completed sewing three skirts as
christmas gifts for the twins and a cousin,
i am now working diligently on finishing this blanket
before baby arrives,
it's almost done but
we
will
see...

nurturing hearts…

as our family grows,
i have been trying to keep in mind the necessity of
loving each of my children individually,
daily living out this principle spoken of in
cheaper by the dozen,
instead of living like i have only seven children, living like
i have seven only children.
giving them all of me, loving them
individually,
giving attention to each one and
meeting the needs of all.

nurturing minds…

i just began reading for the second time,
the little house series
with the twins and i am so delighted
to share these wonderful books with them
as i did with their older brothers and sister long ago,
and,
of course,
those older ears keep popping in to listen as well,
laughing and reminiscing.
this is pure joy,
this rereading, enjoying with the new,
this circle of love, of continuation, of
doing again,
and again.
rhythm,
seasons,
cycles...

beauty.

tending the earth...

and, this,
a lone rose blooming in the midst of
a succulent patch
here
in late november,
a reminder of life,
absolute,
beautiful
gift.

to parent by the Book

2011-11-25T06:26:00.000-08:00

I have read books.
A plethora of parenting books.
I have taken bits and pieces from them that encouraged me, but when it came down to reading about the *right* way to parent, or the *foolproof* methods, I can't stomach it.

All children are different. No "method" works for every child.

The only thing that works for every child is God's Word.

I parent by His Book.

I read that God is love.

And then I read about love...

^"Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered,
it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails"

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

My eyes open to who GOD is,
And I see that these attributes of His are always evident in how HE loves me.

And as He is, I know I should be...
And as He loves His children, I will mine...

I will be patient when child does not heed my correction.
I will show kindness when my dears show none to me.
I will not envy "supermoms" who seemingly do it all, keep their cool, and have it all together.
I will not boast when I feel like I am that "supermom"... I definitely am not.

Let gentleness and love come from my mouth, never rudeness.
Always seek good for my children before myself.
Maintain a level head, not getting angry... for children are children and they will be childish,
just as I will be at times.
Forgive my children, wipe everything away, keep no record, move on in love, as my Father
does for me.

Rejoice when my children choose God and His ways, when they speak and act with wisdom.
Do everything I can to make sure my children are safe and protected physically, mentally and spiritually.
Believe my children... show them they can always depend on me, that they will always have a mother and father who will be their advocates.
Show them the Hope which we have, which allows us to move on, to keep going, keep trusting...no matter what.

Live.
Forgive.
Continue.
Love.

This is where I look to find out how to shepherd my children.
I try, but at times my emotions get the better of me...
yet, I pick myself up and start again
because Love Never Fails.

*this, one of my very first blog posts. a reminder i was looking for this morning.*

to do something strange

2011-11-21T16:02:00.000-08:00

as we draw near to thanksgiving,
this baby being born,
and christmas,
i'm not getting much computer time,
let alone time to write.
so i might not very often for the next month.
but i will share this,
because for some odd reason some people have emailed me
or messaged me
and asked to see a picture before this girl is born.
so, odd as it is to me,
here you go...

yeah, i know, weird.
okay, happy thanksgiving friends!

to turn them away

2011-11-14T06:23:00.000-08:00

She was desperate to raise them
to love
to know Him.
Single mother, 4 kids, two jobs, school and
a mama heart aching,
they just
wouldn't
listen.
Youth angst,
no supervision,
absolute freedom and mama just
couldn't rein them in.
But sometimes, just sometimes,
her prayers, her cries would break barriers and
they would follow broken mama,
mama whose wobbly legs were held up by nothing but

nail-pierced hands

they would give a moment to her,
open their empty hearts to the possibility that maybe,
just maybe,
this Savior might be theirs too.
Hope glimmered stars in heavens,
tears poured down mamas face when
her two rebellious, yet deeply loved boys agreed
to put their own lives aside once a week and
attend her church's popular youth group.
The boys were finally opening,
finally letting Him in...

Kids stood in awe of these two boys,
reckless,
"cool" in the middle of these churchy teenagers,
and their world welcomed aching boys, and
slowly their fatherless, poverty stricken, empty hearts
began to
soften and maybe,
just maybe, they thought,
there was something to this God.
Young brothers sat and breathed in peace,
something they had rarely known,
in a room with other kids who embraced that which
they had never known, and
as their torn hearts began to be stitched
slowly
back together,
youth pastor stood in front to deliver his message,
a message of Life,
of letting Him into broken places, of following His ways,
and then,
he said words which ripped stitches right back out,
out of two hearts being mended...
"What you don't want to do is
live like Matt and James over there."
And they were empty again,
hearts cup smashed upon ground, contents spilling out,
brothers horrified, angered,
one running out,
the other picking up his chair, throwing it at the youth pastor,
yelling "F--- You!"
this hurting thirteen year old boy, masking his pain with anger,
following his brother out of room, out of church,
not to return for seven years,
the other yet to return,
these two young boys
so close,
then judgements, words, cruelty
turned them away.

What are we doing to the young, hurting souls
who enter our churches, our lives,
if even for a moment?

What if we are the only Jesus

they ever see?

*this, my husband's story. he, the 13 year old boy who threw the chair. i thank God for His grace which found my husband despite his hurt. that he was able to see Him instead of those wrongly representing Him. his older brother has still not seen Him, still hurting from all those years ago.*
linking with em,
and with ann

to keep going

2011-11-10T22:49:00.001-08:00

Peace is replaced by chaos in a split second and it seems to take an army to find the way back.
This is my home, and today this peace is interrupted by a shrill cry coming from sandy hair, deep blue eyed seven year-old boy.

He is my artist child and with pencil in hand he creates a beauty I cannot describe.
He is my sensitive artist and all things touch him deeply,
with the largest display of emotion
over the minutest mistake...

and he just doesn't understand why he can't make the line perfectly straight,
though no one sees the curve in it but him,
and when the eyes are too round,
and he has erased for the tenth time,
he wails cries that should be reserved for the most devastating of moments...

he cries and wants to give up because it's just not right,
to him,
but to us, we see an amazing piece of artwork,
and don't understand what needs to be different...
but his eyes see it.

We cannot let him give up,
his passion,
his talent,
his source of gladness and frustration...
but he doesn't
think
he's
good
enough
and he
can't
contain
his
emotion
and
that
frustrates
him
all
the more...

and I think of how God must feel
when I get so frustrated because I am failing
at something
and want to give up...

because I do all the time,
I just can't get it right,
and He just smiles at me,
and holds me,
and loves me,
He loves when I try,
and my mistakes,
He doesn't even see them...

so I see both sides,
and I know what it is to be the sensitive one,
and I know what it is to be the loving parent,
and I want him to see,
he just needs to keep going...

because when we,
in His image,
attempt to do
in His name,
He magnifies
our attempts
with His beauty

to hide

2011-11-09T08:16:00.000-08:00

We sat at the window,
two other preteens and myself,
watching in horror as our young friend hid from the police.
The house was completely dark and
we hoped that we were invisible to the searching light beaming from the patrol car.
Three frightened, young girls
huddled together,
holding hands as if together
we could protect each other from the cops,
convinced we were about to witness our friend being arrested
in
her
driveway.

Only an hour earlier we were four friends
giggling, gossiping and planning.
Planning for a girls night.
Movies to watch, treats to eat,
boys to talk about.
Yet,
we realized, we had to get from one house
to another...

"Isn't there a curfew?"

None of us knew,
but this friend was convinced.
"I know there is, it's 9:00.
Under the age of 16 you are not allowed to be out
past 9.
If we get caught, the police will pick us up."

This realization brought an element of fear to our impending mile walk,
but we could also feel a sense of adventure among us.

Dressing in all black
with hopes of being consumed by
the dark of night,
we set out.
Walking slowly,
we would duck behind parked cars,
trees,
or just lie on the ground if
nothing else was around,
anytime a car would drive by.
We were criminals, spies, ninjas...
our blood was rushing.

Finally we saw it,
our destination, Chelsea's house.
All we had left to do was
cross the street,
pass one house and
we would be free, victorious.
The night air was cool,
the street was silent and
dark, lit up only by street lights and porch lights.
Once in the middle of the street
we saw it.
A car coming towards us, very slowly,
headlights off.

Alicia whispers the words we fear,
"police car."

Panicked,
we run.
Three of us head for the door of Chelsea's house,
unlocked,
inside.
We let out our breathe, adrenaline pumping,
glad to have made it, when we realize
Chelsea is not
with
us.
Rushing to the front window
looking out to the street,
we see the patrol car stopped in front,
the search light glowing brightly.

Where is she?

Then we see her,
flat on her stomach in the driveway,
under the car. Terrified at
what will happen if they find her,
we begin to cry.
Yes, cry,
we were naive little girls.
We hear a beep, a megaphone turned on, the loud voice announce,
"Your feet are showing.
You can come out,
your feet are showing."

And they were,
her doc marten covered feet
sticking out from under the car.
She creeps out, makes her way shaky and
alone, to the car,
speaks for a few minutes to the officer,
and then comes inside
where we smother her with hugs and congratulations
for not being arrested.

She tells us he laughed at us
and that there was no curfew.
He also suggested we don't walk around
in black at night, hiding from cars and
running from police.

I tell my children this story, and
they giggle endlessly. These fears of their mama
as a child, these adventures she had.

And one child
leaves
me
speechless.

"It's like God mama.
People try and hide
from Him, but why would they?
He knows where you are and
what you're doing, but also
He just wants to love you
and keep you safe.
Why would anyone hide from Him?"

I pull her close and whisper, "Very true.
Why would we hide?"

He just wants to love us.

to build a legacy

2011-11-07T06:02:00.000-08:00

***revisiting these words again, as we draw closer to baby 7,
dealing once again with the words, the stares***

and this memory, # 734...

Arriving late, mama whose belly is large with precious new life holds the hands of a 5- and 7- year old, while the daddy carries one of a duo of 2- year olds and dear oldest 14-year old son holds the other. We sneak into the building, hoping not to be noticed. Behind us, the old wooden door creaks as it closes and the young child husband has in his arms coughs loudly. Our attempt at being inconspicuous fails, and we are now the main focus of this Sunday morning church service.

Trying to not give attention to the stares and whispers, we gently shoo the children along as we maneuver through the tiny aisles, searching for an empty pew for our large family. Dark eyes follow us as the short man to our left mumbles a comment I pretend not to hear, "All theirs? And another?"

Sitting down, I feel the eyes of judgment on us. Emotions begin to boil inside, I make sure children are seated, hope they are quiet and that focus can be returned to where it should be.

Three people away from me, 5-year old has decided he is too far. Crawling over daddy, then sister, and lastly attempting to pass over toddler who yells, "NO JOSIAH!!!" Before mama has the chance to intercede, 5-year old grabs petite little sister and pulls her off of the pew, promptly replacing her empty place with himself.

With the attention of the church on our family, 2-year old begins to cry from the floor. I lean over, gently swoop her up with a multitude of kisses, and hold her in my arms, stroking her soft hair. With my free arm, I pull my handsome young culprit close to me, and whisper, "Now that was not very nice, was it?"

His face reflects the sadness he feels at his choice of behavior, and he attempts to kiss his sister and apologize, only to have her cry all the louder. After a moment she settles down, and eventually we are forgotten, yet inside I feel a bit dejected having become the spectacle I desired to not be, and most likely causing some people to feel justified in their judgment of my family.

The church service ends, and we cause quite a bit of ruckus packing up to leave. Making our way towards the exit, I feel the eyes on me again, hear the whispers, and I think "Lord, don't these people know You? " Not one smile, not one word of kindness... I know we will not return to this building. I feel such frustration welling up inside me, and I want to tell these people who Jesus is, I want to ask them why they claim His name when they can't even welcome a new family to their church... but I stay silent, I know I am just as guilty as they of judging others, of whispering about people, of not showing love and kindness. I am no different.

Almost to the door, an elderly woman approaches us. Her back hunched over, her white hair glowing under the church lights, tough skin a symbol of many years of care, love, work. She smiles at me and her smile is so large that her wrinkled eyes almost close, and joy just seeps out of her.

"Your family is so precious. Thank you for bringing them today. I don't get to see this much these days, but I am so blessed when I do. Do you know what you have here? Do you? A legacy. The only one that matters. You have so much to be grateful for."

And I did, and I breathed it in deep. I was grateful for them, I was grateful for her. For her love, her joy, for the wisdom flowing through her and a knowledge of something greater.

I thanked her as she walked away, and I was knew why we had gone there that day.

to make a marriage last

2011-11-03T07:49:00.000-07:00

***this is the last in my small little series of marriage posts,
leading up to our anniversary (which is today!),
the first is here,
the second here,
and this repost is the last...***

"do you know what love is?"
and i smirk,
haughtily thinking what kind of a stupid question
is that,
and he looks at me with those eyes,
those eyes,
and i realize it's not a joke,
not a stupid question,
he is serious,
and maybe there is a reason for the question
so i grasp for words and
babble about good feelings and care,
and i'm only a new christian but i know that somewhere
in the Bible
it says something about
God being love,
so i tell him that.

as he looks at me,
i can tell i missed the point,
and he says,
"yes, God is love,
but what does that mean?
what does that mean for us,
in our marriage?"
we were soon to be married,
and to me that meant
romance, companionship,
someone to care about you,
but i could tell,
to him,
it was so much more,
and i wanted to understand because,
i knew,
that was a good thing.

"um...."
finding me speechless,
a very hard thing to do,
me,
the lover of words,
always one to speak up,
to voice an opinion,
even when i shouldn't,
but here,
in this moment,
i had no words.

he saw my ignorance,
my wonder,
and answered,

"when you love someone

your concern is not what they can do for you,

or how they make you feel,

it's what can you do for them,

how you make them feel."
i look up at him,
i know he feels this for me,
his consideration for me pours out of him
like beautiful melodies flow from
a symphony,
and i bite my lip,
afraid,
searching young soul,
can i love like this?

and ten (as of today... woot woot!) years,
seven (in Dec.) children later,
his words resonate in my head daily,
as he constantly shows his love for me,
seeking to fill my needs before his own,
and i limp along,
learning, slowly,

to love

as he has told me,
shown me,
as He has told me,

shown me,

and his words are so dear to me,
for they are what make a marriage last,
a family flourish,
learning to truly love.

⁴ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

to be loved

2011-10-30T19:15:00.000-07:00

they wander and enjoy
the beauty made evident in
this season,
smells of hay mixed with
the baking of pies,
cinnamon,
apple,
brown sugar
causing them to crave sweet things and
auntie comes to make memories
with the young ones,
who cuddle up to her,
filling her with that overwhelming joy
that comes from
being loved

older children and
young ones alike
take part in those traditions which
auntie and their mama did so many years ago,
and God speaks in whispers,
wind breathing on neck,
as sun breaks through clouds,
peeking over hills which lead to ocean,
and as God reveals gifts that
only searching eyes will notice,
I too am filled with overwhelming joy
that comes from
being loved.

(those were gifts 709-733)

(so hard to get a good picture of 6, with 4 pictures there's at least one good one of each... i hope. just shows the beauty of so many)

to create

2011-10-29T15:40:00.000-07:00

another slow saturday,
more time spent
breathing,
reading,
knitting,
loving...

i am about half way through this simple baby blanket,
a gift for our newest baby girl who will be born around Christmas...

and beginning another skirt,
this one for hannah,
with the red material as the bottom layer
instead of the white

with the day wrapping up,

children playing together outdoors,

i am just about to stick a meatloaf in the oven.

couldn't resist sharing these pictures of the exhausted little man,

moses,

passed out on the living room floor...

enjoy the rest of the weekend friends!

to feed... this moment

2011-10-28T05:41:00.000-07:00

{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 and remember.

linking with amanda

to let light burst forth

2011-10-26T05:52:00.000-07:00

when words are locked behind prison walls
and tears are all that flow from inside,
when prayers pour forth in that desperate form of
silence
and darkness is a seductive friend,
when sorrows reside within and all else is
shut out,
when tomorrow lives next door and you can
never
bring
yourself
to knock,
if the dark night of the soul seems to be a
a dark lifetime,
stand,
Then your light shall break forth like the morning,
Your healing shall spring forth speedily,
And your righteousness shall go before you;
The glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard

just keep walking,
with prayers of silence and
a steady diet of tears,
and He will follow,
light will burst forth.

to see

2011-10-23T18:18:00.000-07:00

Sunshine reflects off ocean in streams of glory,
shining through window of building where we meet
to worship and be together,
the body,
a mosaic of broken people
pieced together into beauty,
by Him.
Cool breeze chills bare arms
and all I see,
feel,
a reflection of Him and His grace...
wind blows, swaying fronds of palm trees
and He is breathing on me,
children voices pour into room from beach,
laughter, joy,
and He is loving,
the Good Shepherd,
rejoicing in His flock.
And we fellowship,
we pray,
and He is blessing us,
showering gifts upon us,
if only we would open our eyes,
and see...

695. sunlight reflecting off ocean, streams of glory
696. a chorus of little voices
697. slow days
698. sewing for little girls
699. the anticipation of meeting a funny ostrich this week
700. reading again healing, life giving words of her book
701. acorns covering the grass outside
702. new tire swings
703. getting closer
704. husband's care for me
705. children screaming with joy outside
706. provision that always comes
707. many children demanding my attention
708. being one broken piece in His mosaic

*repost, all but the gifts, those are newly counted, newly added*

to share this day

2011-10-22T16:13:00.000-07:00

determined to have a relaxed saturday,
children have been running careless through the house
spreading toys and joy wherever they go,
older children embarking on expeditions through the "woods",
becoming lost in books and
i have settled in to
this day of peace
listening to john mark mcmillan ,
creating autumn in a place where it doesn't exist and
is still 80 degrees outside
with decoration,
and beginning christmas sewing,
using this pattern
to make this skirt for ruth.

and now the time for supper is upon us,
i am at a loss for what to make,
though i have had some great suggestions
from some marvelous friends,
but
breathing deeply for
joy lived today.

joining with amanda, weekending...

to sleep... this moment

2011-10-21T06:40:00.000-07:00

{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 and remember.

tire swing, best place for a nap

linking with soulemama

to hurt; to love

2011-10-19T06:32:00.000-07:00

i'm tired and the days have been
so
long
and nothing has been accomplished,
and i burst into tears at random points throughout
the day,
like when i tear a whole in my shirt
i break down and
they won't stop flowing but
i didn't even like the shirt,
and when bread comes out of oven
tiny and barely risen
i cry an ocean,
but little does the bread matter,
and when artist child won't eat dinner i
have to leave the table and soak my pillow
with tears and
i don't even care
about any of it.

when hard times batter,
tears come at every opportunity,
and i feel like a punching bag
for emotions,
and sometimes i want to scream
or wake up
or never wake up
but he hugs me endlessly and
He holds me in arms
and they both whisper gently,
"this type of hurt is what happens
when you allow yourself to love."
and it is,
and i am okay with that
because then i get to love.

***sorry for being vague. my heart is breaking for a dear friend, my tears are for her, but it's okay, i get to love.

to say i love you

2011-10-16T11:13:00.000-07:00

***so yes, i'm in a somewhat nostalgic state of mind, thinking back on our marriage, our story, as our 10 year anniversary draws near... so here's another one about us, this one a repost***

we were young and in love,
soon to be married but not yet,
working at competing coffee shops in the same town.
early morning gray found us opening,
both arriving at our respective cafes at 5.
he knew i was awake, working across town,
and i was so aware of his morning work,
and with each other in mind we set about our tasks,
brewing black, setting out breakfast delight,
making a comforting, welcoming environment for the morning crowd.
the idea struck me quick when i saw the car and i knew i had but a moment.
i grab pen and paper, or rather pastry bag, the closest thing to paper i had nearby,
and write a short note.
in walks first visitor of the day, the bagel delivery man,
and i ask had he been to other cafes yet,
and he answered,
no, we were first stop.
so i give him young girl pleading look and ask,
please, would he deliver this folded note for me when he delivered bagels
across town.
he smiles, laughs, takes bag turned note in hand,
and drives away.
ten minutes later i can picture him,
tall, handsome, confused,
taking note from delivery man, unfolding bag and reading heart words,
"good morning! i love you! have a wonderful day. love, your soon to be wife"
shortly, phone rings, his voice makes heart swoon,
"i love you too. thanks. that made me smile."

and i'm thinking on this, the ways we show love, the things we do,
while considering the many, countless ways He shows love to us...

682. my amazing husband, his beautiful love
683. my amazing God, His beautiful love
684. my dear precious friend and her strong, quiet spirit
685. N. H. B.- we love you
686. God who comforts
687. God who guides
688. God who loves
689. God who provides
690. a new oven!!!
691. baking pumpkin muffins in that new oven
692. the smells of autumn
693. cooler days, finally
694. the universe, in His hands

in all these ways, He is telling us He loves us,
these are His love notes, written on baggies, scribbled out amongst the heavens,
saying, simply, and amazingly, "I love you."

to finish her first.... this moment

2011-10-14T06:34:00.000-07:00

{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 and remember.

first knitting project accomplished.... hat for her new baby sister

linking with amanda

to marry my stalker...

2011-10-12T06:08:00.000-07:00

he was standing there, in line at the deli
and with just a glimpse i heard God so clearly
he,
the one in line,
would never be out of my life and
i,
18 years old with millions of dreams
brushed it off and went on.

food in hand, he sat in booth near me
calm, motionless
and i,
with friend
felt nerves rise and what was i to do
but hide them and how best to
dispose of the fear rising in me than to
make fun of that which caused my fear...
"look at that guy,"
i remark to dear friend,
"he's totally weird, just sitting there frozen."
(years later,
he tells me he was praying. and i repent,
sorry God for making fun of the praying guy.)

and finally he talks to me,
introducing himself as a christian,
new in town,
he saw our bibles and wanted to meet
some other christians,
and i,
wanting him to disappear,
put on my cheesy-how-nice-i-am-because-i-am-a-christian-and-i-should-be
smile,
tell him my name and where my church is,
feel i have done my duty,
and say goodbye.

forgetting him i move on,
trying to get back to MY christian friends,
MY christian culture,
MY christian life,
that he is clearly not a part of...
and then,
for the next week,
i proceed to run into him everywhere i go,
every day.
when he shows up at my church conference,
i smile and then look away.
when he walks up to my friends and i,
i introduce him and then
go find someone else to talk to.
and when one night
he walks with my friends into the cafe where i work,
i begin to hyperventilate,
i grab my best friend and tell him all about God speaking to me,
and how,
i know now what God meant...
this guy would be a huge part of my life because
he was going to
stalk me and kill me.

and i knew it was true...
it had to be...

until my stalker walks up to me,
looks me in the eyes and says,
"why are you so standoffish?"
and i,
never having been insulted in my life,
gasp,
then smile,
and say,
"i'm not. i'm the nicest person ever,
everybody says so." and he,
large eyes shining,
responds,
"well, you may be the nicest person to everyone else,
but to a new guy in town
just looking for some christians to hang around with,
who only knows one person, and that person is you,
you certainly are very standoffish
and not very nice."

well i can't let him think that,
so i smile and say,
"no i really am nice.
want to hang out?"
and so we do,
after work,
and then every day for the next week.
until he walks into my work one night and
suddenly i know.
i look at my co-worker and
tell her,
"that's the guy i'm going to marry."

stars dancing overhead,
we sit and talk in to the
wee hours of the morning and
he catches my eye by the light of the moon,
quiet voice whispers,
"so, what's God telling you?"
and i just know it's time for me to say
what has been driving me crazy for
weeks...
"we're going to get married."
and he stares deep into my eyes
and responds, simply,
"yeah."

and so,
4 months later,
4 and a half months after we met,
we exchanged vows in small church,
and God reminded me,
he,
the one in line,
would never be out of my life.

at the beginning of november it will be ten years,
and i haven't stopped thanking God
for giving me my stalker to marry.

to remember this day

2011-09-29T21:59:00.000-07:00

two birthdays, one day andone wanted to go to her favorite park,
the other to the pier to see the sea lions...

and then daddy and josiah watched this beautiful little sea lion
vomit up a dead bird

newly four year old twins
ran their daddy ragged,
and he loved every moment of it

joining with soulemama,
i know i have broken the rules but
all of this was this moment i
want to savor...
bird carcass and all

to say happy birthday

2011-09-28T16:15:00.000-07:00

today these girls...

turn 4...
and it's a little sad,
but way more amazing.
and i have been watching them all day and
just
thanking
Him.

2011-09-25T15:16:00.000-07:00

just this today...

681. being in His arms of love

to talk about homeschool

2011-09-23T14:16:00.000-07:00

the beautiful suzy at scraps of starlight tagged me in this homeschool meme...
so i'm going to do my best here...

One Homeschooling Book You have Enjoyed

not quite sure i can pick just one,

A Charlotte Mason Companion by Karen Andreola. After one year of homeschooling and using some terrible boxed curriculum, I found this. My first introduction to Charlotte Mason. Changed our lives.
For the Children's Sake by Susan Schaeffer Macaulay. The Charlotte Mason Companion naturally led to this book. And I heart this book. Just thinking about it makes me want to read it again.
The Original Homeschooling Series by Charlotte Mason. Yep, then came these books. So inspiring.

One resource you wouldn't be without

well there's the Bible of course,

and then suzy said "Nature. Pure and simple." which i am stealing.

and then books. piles and piles of amazing, beautifully written books.

so there's three again. looks like one means three for me.

One resource you wish you'd never bought

that first year's boxed curriculum that eldest did. feel i shouldn't name names.
just sorry. so so sorry ian.

One resource you enjoyed last year

ambleside online... been enjoying it for four years now, as have my children
bird feeders... so much curiosity and learning comes from these simple little feeders
time... slow, relaxed days, no rushing anywhere, just time to learn, live, read, talk, enjoy and grow

One resource you will be using next year

all the same... i suppose we are boring.
oh and my summer notebook just love reading her wisdom.

One resource you would like to buy

more bookshelves... for more books.

One resource you wish existed

i don't know, i think i'm pretty content for now.

One homeschool catalog you enjoy reading

none. they all make me feel lame and like i want to buy things i don't need.

Tag six other homeschool bloggers...

well, let's see.

meghann @ she shall rejoice
leanne @ the barker family
amy @ the view from hidden valley
hannah @cultivating home
amy @ fisher academy international
megan @ contented sparrow

alright. i'm done. thanks.

to talk about stuff

2011-09-21T08:22:00.000-07:00

the days are getting shorter,
it's actually dark when i want to put the three littles to bed,
and i love the feeling that autumn is upon us,
even if we don't get a change of color or leaves falling.
at least i get to bake with pumpkin.
pumpkin cake, a family favorite,
pumpkin bread,
pumpkin chocolate chip muffins...

and then i remember my oven is broken and
has been for three weeks and
i have no hope of getting a new one any time soon...
barbeque and slow cooker have been
best friends to us lately.

i gave moses our last banana this morning and realized
i need to buy more although
i just bought a bunch yesterday,
and then it dawned on me that in a home of 8 (almost 9),
you go through a lot of bananas and
have to buy them daily.
most things we go through quickly i try to make or grow,
but bananas...
don't think i can do that.

i cried a lot yesterday (as some of you know) and
went to bed feeling defeated.
today i am awake knowing this is a new day,
His mercies are fresh every morning,
despite the lack of autumn conditions,
even when you have no oven,
and when you have to buy bananas daily.

that is all and
He is good.

to make memories

2011-09-12T07:24:00.000-07:00

Coffee brewed and ready for me to make a masterpiece of it,
children eating, no words, only the sound of chewing, swallowing,
hunger that set in overnight being worked off.
Sun shining through windows, brightly, blindingly,
wiping away the weekend's welcome storm,
rain, thunder, lightning, gray clouds, cool breeze,
and I find myself saddened they have gone.

Weekend which held much hope, delight;
ocean baptisms, people falling deep into water, rising into arms of Christ,
meals shared with true, beautiful friends,
laughter and conversation flowing into hours of night,
and children playing out in the dark, as children should...

and waking fresh to new day,
new week,
new memories to be made.

(gifts 668-680)

to share this moment

2011-09-02T06:33:00.000-07:00

{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 and remember.

the baby opossum our dog brought into our house one night as we sat,
lights off,
rocking littles and relaxing.
she dropped him on the floor and eldest yells, "dad, the dog just dropped
a dead opossum on the floor."
husband responds, "opossum's play dead. that's alive."
and she up and scurries around our living room...

linking today with soulemama

to fail?

2011-08-31T15:06:00.000-07:00

words have failed me lately,
like all does
fail
but Him,
and days have crept
slowly by
as honey dripping off a spoon,
while we have tried to find a way
back
from endless nothing to
rhythm of every day
and despite all planning,
prayers,
we still find ourselves
not
quite

there.

but He is here with us
on days where
rhythm was lost and
days when rhythm was
never found,
hiding just beyond but
never to be grasped

and i cry for failed days,
days lying on blankets in breeze,
watching jays grab peanuts from feeder,
disappearing as if
they were thieves,
children reading books they love,

playing games of their choosing,
cooking dinner with their tired mama,
whose middle is swelling with
their new sister,
knitting together and
drawing together,
praying and
drinking in His word...

and though rhythm may have failed,
words may have failed,
i wonder
how can these be
failed days?
the failure is of my choosing...
and if i
stop
choosing
to call them failed days,
i will finally see that
these days are
beautiful.

to share this moment

2011-08-26T05:59:00.000-07:00

{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 and remember.

joining soulemama today...

to keep your head out of the clouds

2011-08-22T07:01:00.000-07:00

He never complained.

My feet were unstable, my heart was flighty and my head ran miles. There was always something we HAD to do NOW, somewhere we HAD to go...

He would simply listen to my passionate appeals and when I had finished he would smile at me.
His hand would take hold of mine, so softly, lovingly, as he gazed into my eyes and whispered,
"Settle down."

I wondered if he understood. I began again, telling him all about these plans, these dreams, why it was so important to jump right up and get started.

He listened to me, hearing over and over my ideas. Once again he embraced me and told me "Settle down."

The love in his eyes silenced me momentarily, long enough to allow him to speak the wisdom which flows from him if I just give him a chance.

"What you are saying is not bad, it is good. Very good. But there is a time for everything. Relax. We don't have to do everything now. Be content where you are, and allow for God's timing."

I know he is right. But it hurts so much, all these ideas running around my head, no outlet for them. He was levelheaded, I was a dreamer. I had my head in the clouds, he had his feet on the ground. He was perfect for me; I needed someone to keep me grounded, keep me from floating away. I needed someone who would not indulge my every whim.

Those first few years he sat through many descriptions of my various ideas and plans. He never complained. He continued to tell me to settle down, relax, be content here.

After one of my idea conversations, in the fading light of the setting sun, a light breeze blowing and crickets chirping nearby, he asked me, "What do you really want?"

The question caused me to pause, to think, to look at everything I thought I wanted and determine the true spirit behind them. I had always thought I had great ideas, everything had always made sense to me... but now, WHAT DID I REALLY WANT?

I want whatever God has for us.

"Honey, I love you," he replied, "that is such a generic answer though. Of course you do, we all do. Now, assuming we will be doing what God has for us, what is that? What do you want?"

His candor, in love and humility, is such a gift. It snaps me out of myself, out of my dreamland. WHAT DID I REALLY WANT?

I want a home. A forever place where we can raise our children, grow our love and our family. Where we can welcome God as the center of our lives and teach our children to know Him. A place where we can welcome all, anyone who needs a place to go, wants a moment of peace, needs a meal or a place to lay their head. A home where our children can see us loving people and learn how to love people. I want a door that's always open. I want it to be God's home, and He only blesses us with the use of it. That's what I want.

Used to my long winded responses, my husband waited patiently to be sure I was finished. When he spoke, it was gentle and perfect. "Okay then. Now we have a focus. And isn't that what we have been striving for this entire time anyway?"

My mind is not always running anymore, I have found a place to rest. Focusing on living a life pleasing to Him, on complete and utter devotion to Him, on being His hands, being any part of His body at all. I have found a place to rest... everything is coming together.

Relax, everything's going to be all right;

rest, everything's coming together;

open your hearts, love is on the way!

Jude 2

653 being able to relax

654 beautiful end of summer days

655 hours spent at lake with friends, family

656 playing, fishing, knitting, loving

657 a delightful birthday with love from family lavished upon me

658 amaryllis' in bloom

659 new baby, a girl, four months until we get to meet her

660 unexpected hugs from husband

661 awesome garage sale finds

662 kids running, giggling, dancing

663 cool, foggy mornings

664 friend's being blessed with new life at the same time as us

665 encouraging phone calls from inspirational friend

666 Peace which surpasses all understanding

667 the wisdom of my husband

*i apologize for my absence around blogland lately... been trying to soak up these last days of summer with my children, grow this little baby, and love all around me. been missing you friends!

to be a rebel

2011-08-04T05:53:00.001-07:00

i wasn't supposed to become
a christian,
nope,
no one who knew me would ever have guessed
i would be
one of those Jesus lovers
i made so much fun of

i wasn't supposed to just be
a high school graduate,
with no "higher" education
i was all ready,
SATs taken
performing arts colleges applied for,
i was on my way,
but never got there

i was definitely not supposed to
get married at
19
to someone i had known
4 months
who already had a
6 year old son

i wasn't supposed to have given
birth to
5 children
by the time i was 27,
ask my dad
who said,
"amy,
i know you believe
in the whole Bible thing,
but when God said
'be fruitful and multiply'
i don't think He meant for you
to do it all
yourself."

i wasn't supposed to view life
from eyes filled with grace,
seeing the pain and beauty
in a world
scarred
and desperate,
trying to impart a bit of
His love whenever,
wherever
i can

i wasn't supposed to see
a little girl
lonely,
neglected,
who shrieked with joy
when i took her outside
because
she was actually being allowed
to go
outside,
a girl with such sad eyes,
who cried when we left
and ran into her tomb
of a home,
begging her daddy to
let us stay,
and driving away in silence,
our family speechless,
no words,
until i look at my husband,
open my mouth,
and he looks at me,
tears in his eyes,
and says first,
"i know.
i want to ask him if we can
have her."
but, of course,
we can't.

i wasn't supposed to forgive
the woman who gives me
dirty looks for having
all these kids i wasn't supposed to have
or pray for
the man who tries to
get my husband fired
or thank God when
we don't have money
to pay rent or
buy food

i wasn't supposed to do
any of this,
but i did,
so i guess i was,
and maybe i'm not
that much of a rebel
after all.

sorry for the repost, mind is wandering lately...

to share this moment

2011-07-29T08:46:00.000-07:00

{this 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 and remember.

linking with soulemama

to find...

2011-07-24T18:12:00.000-07:00

Heart beating wildly and I freeze
because
I know I am somewhere I don't belong...

and there is a peace here that my seventeen year old self
isn't allowed to know,
and something tells me I am in a special place, that my feet are
on holy ground.

and the people stare
and I think they see the filth on my feet,
dirtying their holy carpet,
and I think they think if I look at their stained glass windows,
with the sun shining through,
causing oranges, reds and greens to dance around this room,
they will shatter,
just like me.

and what is worse are the stares
from those who know me...
the kids who see my school personality,
who know I listen to music with profanity,
who know I was in a mental hospital less than a year ago,
who know that I am dripping with mess and
garbage
and they know my very presence is
a stain...

and yet I keep walking,
for my hurt, starving soul is desperate to be here,
to feel this peace,
to live in the joy evident on the faces of these people...
and when my bruised feet stand before a chair,
and music starts flowing creating a supernatural air of beauty in the holy place...

Voices lifted up together,
each voice representing the wrecked person who was
built again by the precious Lamb,
and my hesitations melt away beneath this song
of common love and adoration,
of gratefulness and praise...

and though I know not what the words mean,
I sing them too,
because my heart feels them, I know they are real,
they are alive and they are truth...

and when the tears fall in a rush down my face,
and I know they are dripping to the floor of this holy place,
and my heart cannot stand it anymore,
it feels like it might explode,
I know nothing to do besides run...

out into the open,
where I can breathe again,
where body shakes with sobs I cannot control
and someone comes and whispers prayers
and shows me how to love

and I begin this pilgrimage
of love,
truth,
and peace
that I have been on for over eleven years...

and I know that I am still dripping with a mess,
but now it no longer defines me,
because His grace is sufficient
and His strength is made perfect in my weakness...

and so I give thanks...

641 wonderfully amazing starry night
642 reunion for my husband with some dear friends
643 Peace
644 daddy camping out front with kids
645 cool nights
646 titmice in the bird house
647 delicious new dessert... thanks megan!
648 piles of books still to be read
649 a beautiful, always there friend
650 discovering an apricot tree in our yard
651 beginning to feel baby move...life...new, amazing
652 being given a $50 gift certificate to a restaurant... soon to be date night
653 encouraging words

to have compassion and grace

2011-07-20T06:27:00.000-07:00

Sitting in the living room, clean, perfect, the walls covered with pictures of their family...

His voice talking, constant, passionate... anger, frustration, laughter... all coming from his mouth one after another.

I am literally biting my lips to keep from opening my mouth, to tell him to stop, to tell him he is wrong.

I glance at my loving husband who is looking at me... his eyes filled with understanding but also with a gentle reminder...don't. Don't open your mouth, don't say anything, I know it's awful but keep quiet. Don't cast pearls to swine.

These words he has told me often before, I know they are the message he is sending with his eyes.

I sit quietly, I endure...

The father of this home is a police officer...and a christian. He professes the name of the Lord Jesus. He is my brother in the Body of Christ. I do not want to think negative things about him, but...he is making me sick. His words are making me sick.

He is talking about the people he pulls over. He tells us how awful they are, the lies they tell. He takes pleasure in ticketing them.

Next he tells us about the kids he meets in juvie. About how messed up they are, how they are so disrespectful and nothing will ever change them.

Moving into the gang members, how they are all the same, they don't want to change, they won't change.

My heart is pounding as he speaks....I want to yell at him. My husband continues to look at me with love, understanding, trying to keep me quiet.

Before the conversation finally moves onto something else, he informs us how pointless jail ministries are. The prisoners don't care, they only go listen to the pastors because it gives them something to do. They won't change, they will get out of jail and go right back to their life of drugs and crime, even if they "accept" Christ.

Oh how I am fuming inside. My heart breaks... I want to weep with the woman who was given a speeding ticket, which now she must pay, though she can't buy food for her family.

I want to wrap my arms around the kids in juvie, the kids in the gangs. I want to tell them they are loved. I want to bring them home and let them have a family, let them see they are something, they are special. I hurt with them, for the lack of love they have been given, for what has drawn them to this life.

I want to go to the jail, tell people there is another way, watch them choose Jesus, be their friend and advocate when they are released.

"Mourn with those who mourn..."

And I want to tell this man how terrible these things are that he is saying, I want to ask him where his love is, where his compassion is, I want to ask him how he can love Jesus and ooze judgment all over His created people, the ones He loves.

But I don't. I hold my tongue. I know better. I have spoken up before, I have been met with arguments, stubbornness, denial. I know he won't listen, I know it will only cause problems.

On our way home, still fuming, I ask my husband, "How can you listen to him? How can you sit still and hear him and not say anything? Don't you feel this anger that I am feeling? He is awful, just plain awful. He is supposed to be a christian! He has no grace, no compassion, none. NONE! He claims the name of Jesus, but he has NO GRACE for anyone!"

Kindly, gently, my husband puts his hand on mine and asks, "Where is your grace for him, your love?"

I am silenced. Oh Lord, how did I miss this? I was so wrapped up in his lack of grace that I became the one with no grace. I am no better. How prideful had I become, taking pride in being compassionate?

Praying for him, asking for God to help me to have grace on this man... asking forgiveness for my own lack of grace, my pride, my foolishness... Oh Lord, help me take this plank out of my eye. Help me show grace to him, to love him despite all, and when he is given grace, help him to give it to others.

to truly live

2011-07-17T21:42:00.000-07:00

On banks of lake serene and blue,
family of large black crows scavenge for worms
and food left behind.
Wind whispers on necks,
water splashes up,
kissing skin,
and we sit with poles waiting for fish,
books open to pages of encouragement and truth,
children voicing imagination in song,
running about God's land,
living,
truly living.

And Peace resides here,
speaking while waves lap against the shore,
while trees dance,
waving their arms in the breeze.
Must we go,
back to piles of laundry in need of folding,
to floors begging to be swept, mopped, vacuumed,
again and again,
to supper unmade,
toys out of place,
books strewn about on every surface.

Yet, Peace lives there too,
speaking while children laugh,
play,
read,
sing,
while family and instruments, together, make music
and little ones snore softly in the hush of the moon.

I can return
and find Him there,
and serve Bread to my family,
serve them first,
allowing them to partake of Love,
security and
nourishment.
Lavishing my best upon them,
so they do not have to be as the crows,
scavenging for scraps, for leftovers.

I can return
and there we can live,
truly live.

"We are nourished and tenderly cherished for Christ's sake"

-Martin Luther

gifts #628-640

wind's whisper

wave's song as it reaches shore

father helping, guiding children

red-winged blackbirds flying to their nest in the cattails

bookworm daughter turning 9

being given a beautiful, old dog for our family

bright, beautiful full moon

children catching fish

visit with brother and family

being cold

new antique rocker

napping next to Moses

little kids everywhere

to take off the cover-up

2011-07-13T06:45:00.000-07:00

I have never worn make-up,
never,
except on the stage when I had to.
I just never saw the point,
not even in high school when all the girls
spent hours
dolling up their faces,
and I would brush my teeth,
my hair,
and be done with it.
And still,
I wouldn't know how to put on eye-liner,
don't understand the reason for blush
(do people still use that?),
think my lips have color enough to smile,
and the rest of my face...
well,
it's mine.

Yet I lived in cover-up,
though not the kind you rubbed on your face.
I put on a wide grin to cover-up the
deep sorrow I lived, constantly,
inside.
I wore cover-up in the form of strange, big clothes,
hiding my thin, disgusting to me body.
I wore cover-up as I floated around
from group to group,
friend to friend,
to mask my insecurities and my
fear of commitment,
fear that friends would leave,
or change,
would dislike
me.
Adorned in cover-up when I was one person at home,
one amongst certain friends,
someone else when in the presence of others,
and still,
none of them was me.

And when suddenly He broke through and
washed all that cover-up off of me,
and I,
I
was naked and not ashamed,
standing with nothing to hide behind and
no one to be but
me,
no more games,
no more lies,
just
me
and I had never known such peace,
such freedom in who I was.

So I still don't wear make-up,
and I no longer hide behind cover-up,
I just wear the robes He gave me,
and walk the steps before me,
and breathe,
breathe,
like never before.

*** As I wrote this I considered whether this had anything to do with humility,
a practice I most often fail at,
and found the answer in my own words
"I was naked", "standing with nothing to hide behind".
Taking off my adornment, and putting on Christ,
realizing that I am nothing and He is all,
the beginning of a practice of humility***

to break the circle

2011-07-11T09:34:00.000-07:00

he holds me and i remember days gone by
when i was young and naive
but knew
Truth and beauty,
and when others told me i was foolish
i knew we were right.
they filled me with religious jargon,
telling me i was finding the love of the world
that i was not following God.
and i kept myself away from them and
their biting stares,
their behind my back prayers for me to
stop following the world's ways,
to seek God again,
when i was actually seeking Him more
than ever before.
i knew His voice,
followed His leading,
they just didn't like where it lead,
so they reasoned,
it must not be from Him.

and whispers are like knives
when you know they are about you
and smiles tear apart souls when
you know the thoughts behind them,
and how can we be one body,
in one accord,
when we rip people apart who don't follow
our ideas of right.

none of us have the right idea of right,
only He knows right,
and we need Him.

there is no good apart from Him,
no truth removed,
and when we think we understand it all,
have the proper formula down,
that's when we are walking closer to them
than Him.

and i think He mourns when He watches us,
His children,
bickering and whispering,
"praying" for each other heartless, insincere prayers,
"knowing" our ways are the only way,
and He speaks it,
"remember, My way is the only way."
but we are condemning too loudly to
hear His voice

and it happened to me
and i cried,
lonely,
why don't they see i know Him,
i am following Him,
this is what He wants me to do,
and i was bitter and sad,
and yet,
watch me bleed out repentance,
for i have done it too,
whispered and prayed
for those not following my ways,
and it's a sick circle,
and Lord please help us break it

counting gifts today of...

511 grace
512 forgiveness
513 community
514 friendship
515 love
516 compassion
517 authenticity

*another repost, quite busy lately

to the one who found me on google

2011-07-07T22:22:00.000-07:00

To the one who found me on google
by typing in "how to make a marriage last with kids",

Whispering broken prayers for you as
I think on the silent pain you must be feeling,
your heart overflowing with love for the family He has given,
your sorrow breaking forth, threatening to flood everything else.
Oh that you would search out help in this anonymous world,
bless you dear one,
looking for that answer that will fix aching vows,
and I pray that my rocky words have spoken something deep to your heart,
and I offer to you all I have to give...
the only thing I know to do,
just
love him.

Just love him by

loving Him.
And when feelings are lost amidst a toil of raw emotion,
when tears cover face instead of his lips,
when words hurt stronger than physical pain ever could,
and when loneliness seeps in and threatens to consume you,
remember he is gift,
just as they are gifts,
that love will win because
God will win,
and if you just hold on
a bit
longer,
just love him
no matter what,
hope will burst forth as light of new day,
and you will hold each other once again.

I pray for you.
Just love him.

to make a marriage last

2011-07-06T08:21:00.000-07:00

"do you know what love is?"
and i smirk,
haughtily thinking what kind of a stupid question
is that,
and he looks at me with those eyes,
those eyes,
and i realize it's not a joke,
not a stupid question,
he is serious,
and maybe there is a reason for the question
so i grasp for words and
babble about good feelings and care,
and i'm only a new christian but i know that somewhere
in the Bible
it says something about
God being love,
so i tell him that.

as he looks at me,
i can tell i missed the point,
and he says,
"yes, God is love,
but what does that mean?
what does that mean for us,
in our marriage?"
we were soon to be married,
and to me that meant
romance, companionship,
someone to care about you,
but i could tell,
to him,
it was so much more,
and i wanted to understand because,
i knew,
that was a good thing.

"um...."
finding me speechless,
a very hard thing to do,
me,
the lover of words,
always one to speak up,
to voice an opinion,
even when i shouldn't,
but here,
in this moment,
i had no words.

he saw my ignorance,
my wonder,
and answered,

"when you love someone

your concern is not what they can do for you,

or how they make you feel,

it's what can you do for them,

how you make them feel."
i look up at him,
i know he feels this for me,
his consideration for me pours out of him
like beautiful melodies flow from
a symphony,
and i bite my lip,
afraid,
searching young soul,
can i love like this?

and nine years,
seven children later,
his words resonate in my head daily,
as he constantly shows his love for me,
seeking to fill my needs before his own,
and i limp along,
learning, slowly,

to love

as he has told me,
shown me,
as He has told me,

shown me,

and his words are so dear to me,
for they are what make a marriage last,
a family flourish,
learning to truly love.

⁴ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

*a slightly edited repost, linking with beautiful em*

to share that girl of mine

2011-07-03T18:08:00.000-07:00

Oh that girl of mine,
that curly haired bookworm daughter
whose emotions are more mysterious than
Stonehenge,
whose soul is deeper than the ocean's abyss.

And when she sits in silence, staring at what
only she knows,
I wouldn't dare interrupt her without necessity,
for her thoughts are great,
and I know that God is speaking to her,
that they are dining together on a feast of
ideas, of love,
communing there in her moments of silence.

And when she tiptoes as an Indian of old
under the immense California Oak trees,
binoculars hanging around her neck,
I leave her long to search out the Western Scrubs,
the shockingly orange Hooded Orioles,
though responsibility is washed away in her adventures.
For here she is basking in His goodness,
aglow in the beauty she finds in His creation,
worshiping Him by loving what He has made.

And when she cries, her tears flow colored,
when she reads, she's lost for hours,
when strangers speak to her, she shies away as if
all has stopped and now the world is focused only
on her,
a place where she finds herself desperately uncomfortable.

She is that deep, quiet soul that He has made her,
whispering wisdom,
growing in untold ways every passing day.
Her smile is soft and
her mind is overflowing,
a waterfall of understanding
and praise...

510. a glimpse into 8 year old curly haired, bookworm daughter's gratitude journal...

1. the birds that I hear and see outside
2. the bunny that hops around the floor
3. adorable Moses
4. my sissies playing and reading
5. the squirrels scampering on the ground
6. me and mommy making bread together
7. knowing that daddy is hard at work for us.
8. this wonderful day
9. looking at God's wonderful creation
10. hearing Moses
11. hearing Josiah rinsing dishes
12. watching the girls make a mess in the clean living room
13. looking at Moses' pouty face
14. catching a butterfly
15. watching daddy laugh
16. seeing Ruth cry
17. daddy catching a lizard

to win a (fake) prize

2011-06-29T06:47:00.000-07:00

Sweatshirt pink with kitties on it
sitting staring at me amongst the other belongings
in the lost and found
and I,
just a kindergartener,
could not look away, wanting it so badly and
it,
lost,
wanted me, I knew.
Sneaking home with it that day,
hiding in my little pink backpack,
no plan in mind just
happiness at my new sweatshirt.
And when my parents found it that night
I conjured up a story
that made perfect sense in my five year old mind,
"I won it in a race."

Yes I thought it was a superb story,
my kindergarten class having a race,
the prize being an old, dingy, dirty
pink kitty sweatshirt. And as I basked in my supposed triumph,
new sweatshirt, parents who believed me,
my mama looked me in the eyes and said,
"Well, I will just call your teacher in the morning
and thank her."
Then burst forth my tears, my pleadings, my excuses
as to why they just. couldn't. call.
Until all else failed,
and excuses turned into truth,
through tears came admittance and
my humbling walk to the lost and found
in the morning to return my most
perfect
ever
sweatshirt.

To consider how desperate I was for my prize,
and what a crummy little prize it was,
the lengths I went to
in order to attain such garbage,
how blind my little self was.
And yet now I run the true race,
the only which matters,
with a prize more glorious, more beautiful,
more precious than I ever could have
imagined.
And to tell someone where it came from...
no fabrications needed,
I merely have to mention that
Name above all names
for which we do not steal from the lost and found
but give all that we have,
all that we are,
because we were the aching, lonely lost,
we were the ugly old sweatshirts and He,
the Only One we could fit,
He sought us, He found us,
He mended us into beauty,
and all because He loves us.

linking with em again (it's about time)...

to see

2011-06-26T13:15:00.000-07:00

499 church by the sea
500 sunshine reflecting off ocean
501His beautiful mosaic of broken people
502 the dance of the palm trees
503 sound of children playing
504 Layla teaching herself guitar, playing, singing
505 encouraging words from friends Brandee and Nancy
506 flickering candlelight in early morning darkness
507 morning prayer with three littles climbing on me
508 visits with family from afar
509 writing again

to pray

2011-06-25T10:52:00.000-07:00

She weeps tears like rain falls and
shakes with anxiety she can't calm,
wondering aloud why she can't have the faith that I do,
wishing for it,
denying it,
tearing herself apart for being without it.

And I sit in silence,
knowing this could be me,
I too a constant worrier,
allowing emotions to overwhelm and
consume,
only able to push past where she is by God's grace.
Praises fall from lips for His Sovereignty,
lifting me up out of the cycle of
worry, fear, emotion,
to a place of peace...

And as I watch her tears,
hear her cries,
I pray His peace to fall on her too,
for there is no reason to live without fear,
no reason to not feel constant anxiety,
but Him...
only Him.
yet she denies,
refuses,
continues to live in sorrow,
accepts her sorrow,
and I continue to pray...

to hide from words

2011-06-24T11:49:00.000-07:00

I drink words and breathe words,
they give life and sustain me in dark caverns
and yet lately they have been my enemy,
sneaking up behind me and whispering pain,
biting me deeply,
until I look for an escape from these words I have held
so dear.

And I search for those words that wash over me,
showering me with scent of love,
of peace,
but all I find are words repeating themselves,
words that tear,
that cut.
And so I sit in silence, pondering words that bring pain
instead of those which bring all that is good,
those words which flow from mouths that once spoke
supposed love and support,
and now,
nothing but
scorn.

Ah, but don't worry. I hold fast to His true words of life,
I know who I am,
just feeling sadness at the words threatening to
knock me down.

to pop in

2011-06-23T11:33:00.000-07:00

If anyone is interested, I posted on my family blog
The Hughes Mob...

and hi friends, miss ya!

to whisper

2011-06-03T17:31:00.000-07:00

i am but dust.

and such a small speck at that.

and yet He loves me anyway.

i am humbled and without words.

i am but dust.

to explain myself

2011-05-25T14:36:00.000-07:00

Okay, here goes...
We have baby 6, our child 7
on the way.
I'm sick.
So I'm not around much.
But I wanted to let you all know my friends.
I will visit you,
and write here
as often as I can.
Love to you.

to let my arms pop up

2011-05-12T08:06:00.000-07:00

that step of faith remains buried
deep
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,
before
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,
pulled,
and up popped his arms,
and God said,
there we go,
and the sea parted...

so here i am,
rummaging,
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...

(this is a repost, been a bit sick still, but wanting to pop in and say hello)

to come out of hiding

2011-05-09T06:43:00.000-07:00

I admit,
I am crawling out from behind my shade,
where I have been silent, waiting, peering.
And though yes,
we have been sick, and
have had some life surprises yet to be mentioned,
mostly I have been hiding because of
insecurities.
I am one of those people who is
alone in a crowd,
and always have been.
The one who stands in a room of people
and knows she is different,
she is odd.
And it has weighed on me all of my life,
causing me to question friendships,
to drink cups of self-made rejection for
if they only knew me,
they would reject me anyway.
Slowly it has seeped in here,
into this little private corner of the internet,
the thoughts that if they only knew me,
or
they're just being nice,
but I am the odd one and no real care
no real friendships can develop because
no one
truly like me.
But then Tonia wrote this post
and it spoke to me intimately.
And suddenly I realized,
we are all a little lonely and insecure,
feeling like the odd one,
we all get a little anxious, waiting for friendship
and wondering if it is real and
how long it can last. We all make up that crowd,
and yet each one of us feels like the one
alone,
a bunch of alone sisters (and brothers) together and so
really,
we are not alone.
It's not just me. How selfish of me to think so.
So I'm crawling out of my hiding place now,
blushing and shy,
but coming out nonetheless,
and arms are extended,
awaiting a friend to fall into them...
and as you might feel the odd one too,
I whisper to you,
you are not alone.
I will be your friend,
will you be mine?

485 tonia and her wise words
486 the gentle guiding of others
487 a crying daughter running into her daddy's waiting arms
488 plays created be children for mother's day
489 a family spoiling this mama
490 new life
491 sleeping baby breathe on my neck
492 encouragement
493 stellar's jay hopping around
494 small waterfalls
495 deer standing near us, staring, not running away
496 the excitement of a daughter
497 not changing one diaper for an entire day
498 healing words

to eat my peas (a review)

2011-05-01T12:20:00.000-07:00

Lies poured fourth from my mouth,
building a false life for myself in the eyes of
the woman that loved me deep and
cried waterfalls for the daughter that hid and
kept her far.

I would smile and pretend and she would
bite lip and wonder when
I would open up and let her in,
mama that nursed this babe,
that fed and clothed,
that loved and accepted
no
matter
what,
and still my stubborn heart was locked behind a prison
of self-love and could not
see beyond the wants and desires blinding me,
and pretended not to notice her lack of sleep when
she waited up for me,
or her red eyes that never saw the end of tears.

And still, she waited.
Dark nights turned black with fear and desperation,
yet her love remained steadfast and patient
until broken girl crawled slowly into that
anticipating mama's arms...

and what could I say,
then,
now,
other than I'm sorry and
I love you.
What words do I have to express all I think
and feel about that unwavering mama?

"Remember all the times I took you for granted?

I never want you to feel that way ever again.

You are so very precious to me."

"Thank you for believing in me."

"Although I will never know your worry or heartache,

thank you for all the times you let me

walk my own path and

learn in my own way."

"I will always need you."

-Cheryl Karpen,

Eat Your Peas for Mom

I was asked to review Eat Your Peas for Mom by Cheryl Karpen
for Mother's Day,
and I confess,
I didn't know what to expect,
but what I found was a little book full of
nuggets of gold,
words for my mama,
everything I have ever wanted to tell her but
never knew how.

Compiled in this beautiful book,
words to thank our mamas,
to whisper all things our hearts have desired them to know,
and our lips could never speak. And I thank
Cheryl Karpen for knowing an adult child's heart for
their mother and writing these words down
so eloquently,
that we can share them with our mamas...
and I will be sharing them with mine,
giving a copy of this book to her as a gift this Mother's Day.
As peas nourish our body,
so these words will nourish a mama's soul.

counting gifts...
476 the words of this beautiful book
477 my mama waiting patiently for me
478 her love for me
479 being able to love my children unconditionally
480 His love for me, unconditional
481 Hope... Hope
482 memories bringing smiles, laughter
483 He makes all things new
484 words that bring peace, joy, beauty

to have a winner

2011-04-23T10:38:00.000-07:00

before bed last night,
I asked my daughter to tell me a number between one and six...
she picked three.
dearest nancy, looks like you are the winner.
can i just say you may be the most difficult to choose a gift for?
but i'm thinking about it, so i'll get back to you.
don't worry, it won't be lord of the rings.

and everyone else,
thank you so much for your comments!
i love learning about you.
this journey with you is amazing.

happy easter friends!
HE IS RISEN!
Woot woot!

to have a blogiversary (and a giveaway)

2011-04-19T13:29:00.000-07:00

A year ago,
last April,
I began this blog.
When I first started this blog I titled it To Train Up a Child with Love,
in outcry to what seemed to me an epidemic of a whole lot of child training
on the internet but not a whole lot of love,
until I found communities of beautiful people shining with His Love and
began to breathe a little easier knowing not everyone who called on the name of the Lord
was also calling for no mercy with their children
(The LORD is merciful and gracious,
Slow to anger, and abounding in mercy).
and that they weren't all desperately set on first time obedience
(Oh when Lord have I ever obeyed the first time?)
and suddenly this blog had a new purpose,
it wasn't about just training up children with love,
it was about doing everything with love.
That if I did anything, thought anything,
said anything,
it would be nothing if I did it without love,
that God is Love and keeping my focus love,
would be to keep my focus God,
to do, think and say all in the name of Love,
is to do, think and say all in the name of God.

And so the name changed from to train up a child with love,
and became simply
To Love,
and the thought behind each post's title is kind of like that game
90210 introduced like 18 years ago,
you know when you have a fortune cookie you put the phrase
"in bed"
at the end of your fortune,
and it's creepy but still, you can't really help it when you have one.
Well with each of my post's titles you are supposed to add the phrase
"with love" at the end,
so let's take a look at some...

to be a rebel (with love)
to delight in the after party (with love)
to let my arms pop up (with love)
to be cancer (with love)

get it?
I just need to do, think and speak with love,
or else I fail,
which I do,
all too often.

¹ If I speak in the tongues[a] of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast,[b] but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Giveaway!!!

So for my blogiversary, I would love to get to know my readers more.
I am hosting a giveaway, but I'm not quite sure what I am giving away.
It will be personal to the winner, something I choose for them.
To enter, leave a comment telling me three things about yourself that will
help me know you better and
(hopefully) help me pick a gift for you if you win.
Thank you for reading, and journeying with me as I seek to
focus on Love (God).
*** Giveaway ends Friday***

to search for food in the desert

2011-04-17T11:11:00.000-07:00

With only a few days left of our vacation,
the days which would be the thousand mile drive home,
we made an adventurous decision,
go a new way.
The drive we had made over a dozen times,
from Eastern Washington to the central coast of California,
was beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful,
but this time,
with our (only three at the time) children,
we decided to explore and take
the 395 all the way through Oregon into California,
and it was completely unknown to us.

Dawn broke,
and we were already on the road,
and this mama made lighthearted talk,
looking for a Starbucks to wake up to,
and yet we drove,
town after town,
too small to have one,
too small for much of anything.
Finally a town with a gas station and a drive thru
Burger King,
would have to do for breakfast and coffee this morning,
though the grumbling was high,
the hunger was worse.
We filled up, ate, and drove,
through brown hills, and
brown hills and, yes,
some more brown hills.
Oh, and lots of sage brush.

Hours later when bathroom break and gas was needed,
we came upon a tiny filling station in a not-even-on-our-map town,
and stop,
searching for somewhere to get lunch,
but this little station is the only thing around and contains nothing but
snacks,
with which our car is filled.
We look at our map, notice a town, a town in BOLD print,
and we know that means a good sized town,
about a hundred miles away,
and we all decide to wait for the town,
sick on snack food,
desiring real food,
we set our sights on the bold town WAGON TIRE,
and move on.

We drive through nothing,
just brown hills and occasionally an old battered barn,
passing landmarks from our map,
knowing that Wagon Tire must be getting close,
and the hunger is so strong but we all try
to make the best of it.
Turning a bend we see miles of nothing,
just flat brown land and I wonder aloud,
"where is Wagon Tire? I can't imagine there being a big town
out here, but the map says there is. Where can it be?"

And still we drive on,
until finally,
in the distance we see a barn,
a REAL barn,
as in well kept and still in use,
and I shout,
"yes! That must be the first sign of Wagon Tire.
Come on Wagon Tire!"
Spirits are lifted in the car,
and we begin talk on lunch, now almost dinner time,
what we will be eating,
hamburgers, french fries,
some want pasta, it doesn't matter,
we just want some food,
and now we have almost reached the barn,
the barn, with a "Welcome to Wagon Tire" sign right in front,
and I catch my breath as I read aloud small words underneath,
"Population: 2"

(let me tell you, cafe, motel, gas, gifts...had to be a joke...none, anywhere.

I just imagine some ole couple sitting in their house,

laughing at everyone drive by confused)

We all look at each other, trying to process what has just happened,
and then, suddenly,
our minivan of 5 bursts out in laughter,
loud, gut busting laughter.
Our only hope of food for hundreds of miles, and
population 2.
And yet, what can you do but laugh?
So on we drive, eating our crackers, dry cereal,
cookies, and everything we are so sick of,
but laughing nonetheless.

I think of it now as I find myself waiting,
eagerly anticipating times of solitude for prayer,
and moments of quiet to rest in God's presence,
and as I wait for them I dwell in anxiety,
just trying to make it through to the next moment,
when I can be still,
and yet, like dependence on Wagon Tire,
they don't come.
My anxiety worsens, I just need that dose of Peace,
and when is it going to come?
Right in the midst,
I notice it...
twins digging in the garden, talking of their hard work,
bookworm daughter reading up a tree, legs dangling from the leaves,
cool wind blowing, bathing me in relief from the heat from
that amazing, glorious sunshine,
baby pointing at gray squirrels running by, saying "oooooohhhhh"
with a face of awe,
sensitive artist child lost in his world of make believe, sword fighting
invisible assailants,
irises blooming everywhere I look, dousing our land with hues of purple,
dear elder neighbor watering his plants as he does so diligently,
everyday, with a wave and a smile on his face,
butterflies... everywhere,
and I whisper praise and gratitude,
realizing this, here, now is His presence,
and His peace can rain on me in all moments,
not just the ones I set apart,
if I would only notice Him and let Him rain on me.
And then,
just as in Wagon Tire,
I laugh.

(Those were gifts 463-475)

***and just in case you are wondering, we actually drove another five hours before we found a town with food. It was 8pm when we made it to a grocery store in a little town in Northern CA, we bought stuff for sandwiches, which we promptly made and ate and then began our drive again, searching for a hotel in the dark. We had a wonderful time, but were so hungry and exhausted by the time we finally stopped that night around 11. Needless to say, we probably would not drive the 395 through Oregon again. But many wonderful memories were made, as well as some humorous stories.

to open and speak

2011-04-14T07:29:00.000-07:00

I have words to share that I have long debated sharing,
words that open wounds and lay heart bare,
that pave the way for misunderstanding and ridicule,
but I have felt this subject sorely under talked about,
when there may just be the greatest need,
and when I read friend's words recently that deeply encouraged me,
sharing heart,
I knew I must take step and open self
in hopes that someone might feel
they are not alone.

And so here I write out words of struggles,
not those beautiful in the past struggles that we love to hear of,
where we can see God glorified and lives changed,
but struggles of the here and now,
the daily pain seeping through hearts and minds,
as I cook, clean, read, teach,
as I write words to you,
as husband works long, hard for us,
arrives home with aching feet and sore back,
wakes and does it again,
for us.

Struggles where past decisions leave us grasping to catch breath,
to free ourselves from debt which consumes,
and when our one income leaves us with money to live
day to day,
but nothing extra to rid ourselves of the brick held overhead,
it feels
endless and you feel
trapped.

And how did we know when we were 19, 20,
with no one to teach us how to handle money,
that each choice we made would wreak havoc on our family
years down the line?
And now they tell us, learn to live with less,
be content with the simple,
and I say yes, but when you already
make homemade bread and tortillas,
use cloth diapers,
shop at thrift stores or make things,
rarely go out,
how much more simply can we get?
All that is left is to live without electricity and gas,
and never use an automobile.

And yet,
let me whisper the Hope and the Truth,
God has never left us alone,
He has always provided our needs,
there has always been food (even if the bare minimum)
always been clothing and a roof,
and those moments when having nothing has seemed
just beyond the bend,
those are the moments we have learned more of who
He is,
how He loves,
and how He will never leave us nor forsake us.
We have learned that He is Jehovah Jireh,
The Lord who Provides,
and that He always will.

While all our needs are met,
somehow,
phone calls and letters break into peaceful home,
and we brace ourselves.
and why is it that the church,
a family who should be so supportive,
sometimes seems the least of all,
when they have dinners for $20 a plate,
conferences for $30,
women's activities for $10,
and they don't understand why you can't come,
and they make you feel you are not being a part of things
because you cannot buy gas to drive
the ten miles to the church picnic?
And loneliness sets in,
and who can you talk to that will not look down
or at the least,
confused?

But we have each other,
here,
this beautiful family of 8,
and we have Him,
our God,
Jehovah Jireh,
who will always provide.

to tell myself it's okay

2011-04-12T19:20:00.000-07:00

I am tired.
There is food on the floor left over from dinner and I do not have the motivation
to sweep it.
Tonight I put my baby to sleep at 6:30. I may regret it in the morning,
but now, I am breathing deeply.
My twins are dirty and waiting for a bath and pajamas,
which probably won't come.
Not tonight.

Bookworm daughter and sensitive artist child are outside
somewhere
running free,
they haven't done their evening chores,
and I probably won't go find them to make them,
hopefully they will come back soon.
Husband and eldest child are watching baseball,
baseball season, the only time of year our television is on,
and only for the Dodgers.
I am so tired, and so unmotivated to do those things I should be doing,
but my family is at rest,
enjoying themselves and each other,
the sun is shining, still,
baby beat it in going down tonight,
and though I feel a bit of guilt letting things go,
letting all run wild,
I think it's okay.
I think I can drink these moments in,
moments of home disarray but
joy seeping through veins,
in smiles,
in children roaming in evening breeze,
neglecting work but feeding imagination and
exploration.
They cannot come that often,
but sometimes I need to breathe and
tell myself,
relax,
it's okay.

linking up late, but hey, it's around monday

to share some beauty...

2011-04-12T10:22:00.000-07:00

this song,
holding me up today,
wanted to share with you,
my friends...
be at peace,
our God is present,
everywhere

to learn the love of a f(F)ather

2011-04-10T21:55:00.000-07:00

to write stuff

2011-04-07T19:59:00.000-07:00

may i recap a recent conversation? i find it quite... humorous.

speaking with an old friend, she questions me about my writing...

"so, i hear you are a writer."

"well...i write. i wouldn't necessarily put the "er" at the end."

"what do you write? because bob (name has been changed to
protect the innocent) told me you wrote poetry."

"um, i guess i do sometimes. it's more like i don't like to write full lines,
so i press enter when i feel like it and that kind of puts my writing in
verse which makes people call it poetry sometimes."

"so you're a poet?"

"i'm a non-sentence liker. i guess i'm just impatient when i write.
but yes, you could say i write poems sometimes."

"what do you write?"

"stories about life, faith, family."

"like fiction?"

"well, no. more like my life, faith, family."

"oh so you're writing an autobiography?"

"no, just stories of my life."

"and poems?"

"stories of my life in poem-like form."

"ooohhh. i don't get it."

"neither do i."

"how about i just call you a writer?"

"k."

to run away (take a vacation)

2011-04-05T22:47:00.000-07:00

When I was 16 I ran away from home,
at least I call it that now,
but at the time I said I wasn't running away from home,
After a day full of teenage pain, angst and tears,
I left a note for my mama which stated simply,
"I am not running away. I will be back soon. I just need a vacation.
You know, you can just get away for the weekend, go to San Fransisco
or somewhere whenever you want,
but I can't. And I need to. So I'm just going to take my mini vacation,
and then I'll be home. Don't worry. I'll be back."
I left the note on my bed, took a back pack full of clothes, a notebook,
pens and books,
and walked out of my house at about ten o'clock at night.

I lived at the edge of town, in a little bit of suburbia,
but just beyond our housing development was a semi-country road
ten miles long, leading into another town,
the town where my friends were,
the town I was headed to.
I knew I couldn't make it walking ten miles that night,
and I was nearing the end of street lights...
the road gets very dark,
no lights,
covered by trees,
meaning no stars, no moon...
very dark.
So what is an angst-filled, heart sick, petite sixteen year old girl
to do alone, late at night?
Hitchhike, yes, of course.

Wouldn't you know I was picked up almost immediately...
by a young guy, probably about 18,
and I am pretty sure he was on something.
But it was better than that darkness...
and he took me to a payphone (yes, I said payphone)
and I called the friends who should have been waiting for me,
my heart sank when there was no answer...
three times...
and now here I was, with this guy I didn't know
(because yes, though he was young and on drugs,
he was a gentleman and he waited for me)
and I had no idea what to do...
so I decided to go home.

My new friend was so kind,
he didn't hesitate to turn around and drive back the way we had come,
and we talked about life and what I was doing and why,
and then when he turned on my street I just about had a fit.
I started yelling at him,
"turn around, turn around, turn around!"
which he did promptly and a little bit unsteadily,
for he was already driving erratically thanks to the chemicals and turning that
car quickly was not easy for him.
"sorry. the lights were on at my house and my parent's car was gone so,
i. can't. go. home."

Back we drove, the same road,
for the third time.
This time he drove me by my friend's house but when we were pulling down the street
I was horrified at seeing my parent's car and my step dad walking
to the door.
So my driver and I sped off again,
this time I had no idea where to go,
and it was about one o'clock in the morning.

"You can stay at my house. My parent's are asleep by now and
my little brother is spending the night at a friends. You can have
his bed, we just need to wake up early and leave before my
parents get up." He was such a gentleman.
And so I did. I fell asleep, hard, in this enormous strange bed,
and it was the best sleep I have ever had to this day.
The end came too soon when he gently shook my shoulder at
seven o'clock the next morning and told me
we needed to be off.
And so we were. And he bought me donuts for breakfast.
This stranger that picked me up hitchhiking (I wish I could remember his name)
was the greatest part of my vacation which ended a few hours later.
Ended in the police finding me at a friend's house
(because, yes, that day I eventually found my friends who were,
of course, the people the police were searching for to find me)
being taken to a group home,
then for a month stay at an aunt's house,
which all led to my first trip to the adolescent psychiatric hospital...
so I guess it was some sort of vacation after all...
I didn't go home for two months.

I'm thinking of this time when I was 16
because my eldest child is just about to turn 16
(yes, I am 28. yes, that makes me 12 when he was born.
If you are confused, read here.)
I was raised with love but no understanding of Love,
with freedom to do what I wanted, but no one guiding me
to the One who would show me what to want.
These are the things we give our children, but, still...
so I ask him,
"Ian, do you want a vacation from us, from your family?"
He responds,
"Yes! That would be awesome! How about I ride my bike
to the grocery store? I'll pick up some things we need while
I'm there."
I smile. I am so okay with his choice of vacation.
Way better than mine.

to say i love you

2011-04-04T07:15:00.000-07:00

we were young and in love,
soon to be married but not yet,
working at competing coffee shops in the same town.
early morning gray found us opening,
both arriving at our respective cafes at 5.
he knew i was awake, working across town,
and i was so aware of his morning work,
and with each other in mind we set about our tasks,
brewing black, setting out breakfast delight,
making a comforting, welcoming environment for the morning crowd.
the idea struck me quick when i saw the car and i knew i had but a moment.
i grab pen and paper, or rather pastry bag, the closest thing to paper i had nearby,
and write a short note.
in walks first visitor of the day, the bagel delivery man,
and i ask had he been to other cafes yet,
and he answered,
no, we were first stop.
so i give him young girl pleading look and ask,
please, would he deliver this folded note for me when he delivered bagels
across town.
he smiles, laughs, takes bag turned note in hand,
and drives away.
ten minutes later i can picture him,
tall, handsome, confused,
taking note from delivery man, unfolding bag and reading heart words,
"good morning! i love you! have a wonderful day. love, your soon to be wife"
shortly, phone rings, his voice makes heart swoon,
"i love you too. thanks. that made me smile."

and i'm thinking on this, the ways we show love, the things we do,
while considering the many, countless ways He shows love to us...

440 slow, lazy days
441 children dressing in costume and playing
442 watching eldest become a man, and a wise one
443 admitting (learning to admit) when i am wrong and
444 trying to remedy it
445 gardening in the sunshine with the kiddos and
446 hummingbirds and butterflies flying overhead
447 the Peace of God
448 cool morning air
449 every day a new day
450 lying on quilt in shade reading with the kids
451 He cares for us

in all these ways, He is telling us He loves us,
these are His love notes, written on baggies, scribbled out amongst the heavens,
saying, simply, and amazingly, "I love you."

to speak of words and writing and brokenness

2011-03-30T06:54:00.000-07:00

Girl with ache deep inside searches for words to
pour over her,
an ointment soothing wounds,
mending scars.
And her pain is my song,
the one I sang for years when cuts ran up and down arms
and tears were the only regular nourishment I had,
when heart was frozen, icy pond in bleakest winter cold
and voices that tried to help made head pound.
Played on damaged heart strings, a melody of broken sounds,
my song
and I hear the music again,
pouring forth from her desperate soul,
longing to give her Peace words,
but I, like Moses, am of ineloquent speech,
my words burst out a jumbled mess,
never saying what I meant to say.
I turn to only tool I know,
pen and paper,
and I write the story I know best,
my own,
and I end it with the only Hope there is,
His,
the only real happy ending,
which has made me this mosaic that I am.
And she reads words my mouth cannot speak,
her teary-eyed stare linking us, two broken lives joined
by words of common heartache and redemption.
I do not know why I write,
why He has made my heart speak in ink,
I only know that I must,
and so,
I do.

**This is posted for a contest to win a scholarship to the SheSpeaks conference through Ann.
The She Speaks Conference is about women connecting the hearts of women to the heart of our Father God and I would be absolutely in awe to have of the privilege to go.**

to consider the differences

2011-03-27T22:05:00.000-07:00

One of my three year old twins is balding. Her hair is thin and practically non-existent on the sides, and there is one long clump that hangs down the back, but it is slowly falling out as well.

Her twin sister has beautiful flowing hair, halfway down her back. The perfect wheat blond color, straight and soft.

The balding twin eats a piece of chocolate, even just one m'n'm, and ends up with chocolate smeared all. over. her face. Even on her ears. And unless we clean it off, she will leave it there and just add to the mess throughout the day.

Her sister keeps a napkin nearby at every meal and wipes, desperately, each minute mark that might possibly be some sort of food or anything else which is on her and is not supposed to be. She hates to feel the mess on her.

Messy, bald twin will get a runny nose and just let it.. run. It doesn't bother her to have snot running into her mouth, or all over her cheeks. We have to catch her and wipe her nose, and she fights it.

The clean sister feels any drop or possibility of snot coming near the opening of her nostril and panics. Tears well in her eyes and she begins to whimper, eventually finding words to say, "I have boogers." And we help her find tissue, and she wipes, and then,finally, she can relax.

I think of them, knit together in the womb, and yet so utterly different.
And I can't quite breathe when I consider the awesomeness of it all.
And He knows... each of us, intimately...
better than we know ourselves.
Each of us, so different,
each, a unique creation,
each, loved completely.

counting...

my amazing, unique twins

one asleep, one awake... trying desperately, to stay awake

sleeping, while standing?

twin 2 failed, sleep finding her

sleeping, together, so beautiful

twins creating, learning, doing

twins playing, reading, smiling
being loved completely
cannot thank Him enough for the joy they bring

to share a need

2011-03-26T14:29:00.000-07:00

my friend danielle is in the process of adopting twin girls from ethiopia.
with five beautiful children already, they are opening their arms to these
little girls, and cannot wait to get them home. they are raising money to
do that, and having a giveaway for a beautiful quilt for any 5 or 8 dollar
donations until the 9th of April.
please bless this family and help get their daughters home...

to find laughter

2011-03-22T22:33:00.000-07:00

We laugh now, but once there was no laughter.
I can't blame him, he was just a little boy, and he never knew the love of a mama.
He was six when I met him, scrawny little thing, biggest smile ever.
First thing he asked me, "Are you going to be my mom?"
And I was, so I said, "yes."
He was glad, that smile lit up his face, and he said, "it's about time I got one."
And it was. about time.

Soon after we were married came his cries.
He would yell, throw things, break his toys, there was so. much. anger.
I was only nineteen, in so many ways a child myself, and I knew nothing about what to do,
only that I should love him,
and so I did.
But I don't think I loved him well enough.
At least not at first. And it was so hard, and I tried to hang on when he screamed at the top of his lungs
in the middle of the night, punching walls, and I would think,
how? he's just a little boy.

So angry,
this little boy. Born when his father and biological mother were just fifteen.
Abandoned by the mother, a devoted father who would do anything for him, but still a child himself,
working full time to support him. Never knowing the love of a mama or the stability of a family.
He was so angry.
And now here we were, and I knew it wasn't his fault, and I was desperate to love him,
to rescue him but
I didn't know how.

"²⁸ Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. ²⁹ Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰ For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”

Oh, it took time. Years. It took heartache and bad choices, desperate cries, broken days, but finally we gave up, let go... by letting Him take care of it.

And we no longer fought the anger, we just turned to Him. Taking His Word to the boy in need, telling him we loved him and realized his struggle, acknowledging we had no answers but Jesus did. Giving him the Word, leaving him to be with Him. And slowly, he calmed down. Young boy, growing ever older, was given the tools to find Peace. Nothing we did helped him, until we turned him over to the Shepherd of our souls, the One always waiting to draw His beloved to Him.

We were weak and weary, as was he, and only His words of hope brought life to us.
He holds the answer for all,
even for the angry young boy who just wants love.
It took us a long time,
but we laugh now. We laugh a lot. Most of the time, here, we are laughing.

to count the smiles

2011-03-21T08:22:00.000-07:00

their smiles always get me.
in deep sorrow, frustrations, annoyances,
a smile on one of their faces cuts through
and makes my heart beat again.
maybe that's why He gave me so many,
He knew the depth of the sorrow i would feel,
the anxiety that would creep up on me,
and He gave me a young face to smile
everywhere i would turn.

today i am counting smiles...

353 moses smile

354 hannah smile

355 ruth smile

356 josiah smile

357 layla smile

358 ian smile
359 husband smile

to wait

2011-03-19T10:47:00.000-07:00

***an edited repost, as the rain falls here today, as the wind rattles old windows, as friends talk of earthquakes and preparations, I find myself thinking on that still, small voice... I looked up this old post, and it was a bit gut wrenching to read. It speaks of a difficult season, and I wrote it when we were in the midst. Now, we have come out on the other side, moved home to california, and I breathe strong air again. Revisiting these words has given me such peace and reflection***

And, behold, the LORD passed by,

and a great and strong wind rent the mountains,

and brake in pieces the rocks before the LORD;

but the LORD was not in the wind:

and after the wind an earthquake;

but the LORD was not in the earthquake:

¹²And after the earthquake a fire;

but the LORD was not in the fire:

and after the fire a still small voice.

1 Kings 19:11-12

A hush had fallen over the house,

children tucked into beds,

I sitting, praying, nursing the littlest...

sounds of nature creeping in through the window,
rain pounding, wind howling,

husband preparing for the next day of long work,

peace settling in...

Climbing into bed beside me,

kissing the cheek of the nursing babe,

the cheek of the mama, his words soft and perfect...

"keep on loving me, keep on trusting me."

And the unexpected voicing of those words unleashes emotions from my tired mama soul,

"I do, I do... but I don't understand this season in our lives... what do you see that I don't?"

His gentleness continues as he speaks words I need to hear,

"I don't see anything, I just know we are where we are supposed to be at this time,

doing what we need to be doing..."

"Yes, but... it's so hard..."

And it is so hard, not knowing the next steps, just trusting God is working everything out,

and thinking the rest must be just around the bend,
but getting around that bend and seeing another storm...

Momentary silence, then...

thunder shakes the house, I shake along with it letting out a quick gasp, and I am not used to this thunder...

it comes often, but my beach-front california girl self will not become complacent to this frequent washington rumbling...

Return to silence and stillness,

the sounds of baby swallowing his mama love milk,

and husband's love rolls off his tongue with words that spread a soothing ointment over me...

"remember when elijah was waiting for God? and you remember He was not in the earthquake or the fire,

He was in the still small voice.. and I know, we all remember He was in the still small voice,

but what people tend to forget is...

before the still small voice,

there was an earthquake

and there was a fire."

words resonate and i think they would knock me down if i were standing, and yes,

there was an earthquake
and a fire,

and then came
the still
small
voice,

and here I am in the fire,
and it is so hot,
sweat pouring off of me,
but i know,
I KNOW

that the still small voice WILL COME...

and i will wait,
earth shaking,
fire burning,
i
will
wait.

to have the fog lift

2011-03-18T11:45:00.000-07:00

you know when you are driving in the fog,
just a light fog,
you don't really notice it,
but then you pull out of the haziness
into the sun, light shining gloriously around you,
and it suddenly dawns on you that you were just surrounded by
the fog,
impairing your vision, causing hidden dangers,
and how amazing,
how beautiful the other side of the fog
now appears?

this morning i awoke into the sunlight.
God in absolute control,
and no predictions,
no warnings
matter at all...
only Him,
only Him.
i saw clearly this morning,
and was suddenly so aware of the fog i had been in
this past week,
the overwhelming despair and anxiety that was controlling
my every move, word, thought,
how unaware i was to my fog,
until He lifted me out of it.

And He is beautiful,
and life is beautiful,
and if the storm begins,
if it looks like we are going to go down,
i will not be the one with little faith,
i will not wake Him up,
i will remember that if the boat goes down,
He is going down with us,
and there is no place i would rather be...
and until then, i am going to live each moment
for the here,
the now,
knowing "He's got the whole world in His Hands."

to trust Him

2011-03-15T22:22:00.000-07:00

when you wake up in the morning and find the world
has been broken,
when your friends are evacuated from their homes,
and you watch tsunami waves lapping at your shore
just ten miles from where you nurse your babes and
read to your children,
when the pier you walked down just the week before
with your husband
is made waterless,
the ocean pulling itself back,
beyond the end,
so you could have walked around it
on the sand,
when they tell you to prepare,
it's headed your way next,

but the sun still shines,
and your seeds are sprouting;
peas,
green onions,
tomatoes,
cucumbers,
and the children are playing games,
laughing and
dancing,
and you can read His words and find all comfort,
snuggle your babes,
kiss your husband,
and remember

God's in his Heaven -
All's right with the world!
(browning)

then you can move on,
you can live,
you can breathe,
you can trust Him
and know
He is good.