Everything Belongs

New posts

2011-09-23T17:40:00.001-04:00

Hello readers!

Just a reminder that this blog has moved locations! Please switch your browser over to: www.everything-belongs.com, to find the latest from me!

I have noticed on some of the blogs that I follow that you are still linked up to this Blogger page. I'm trying to keep everything at the other site, so please make note.

You can also follow me on Facebook--search for Everything Belongs and *like* it. It will send the newest posts to your newsfeed so you can read from there. I'm so humbled and blessed that there are over 100 readers!

As always, thanks so much for reading!

Love,
Rachel

The Annunciation

2011-08-03T07:07:00.001-04:00

Being a mother of two boys is well...

always interesting.

I say this with a huge smile on my face and...

heartburn.

It is always a balancing act--how to have fun letting boys be boys without it getting too out of hand (because boys simply can. not. keep. their. hands. off. of. one. another.),

teaching compassion

and manners (seriously, this is close to the very top of my list of "I Will Die A Happy Mother," right after loving Jesus).

As I was playing soccer with Owen yesterday, followed by a quick round of indoor hockey

(did I mention again how happy I am that we are renting this house?),

it struck me again how active boys are.

I mean really.

Wow.

Arts and crafts, please?

Not a chance--well maybe for a few moments until they turn their paper into a sword, bow and arrow or gun.

What is it with boys and firearms, by the way? (That is another post all to itself!)

I digress...what struck me so soundly the other afternoon was the passion.

The gusto.

The life.

And this is good.

Very good.

It is so wonderful to see strong, active, boys being passionate about life,

about their desires,

and about one another.

It makes me think about how lukewarm I often am.

About life,

about decisions,

about God.

What makes one person head-over-heals passionate, and another ho-hum at best?

Personality?

Life experience?

Perhaps...but maybe it is also perspective.

Intuitively, my guys grasp each moment for the gift that it is--new, undiscovered, full of possibility and potential.

They are just kids, you say. Of course they are like this. The entire world is new to them.

So where did I lose it?

Where did the luster of living go? Where did the pure excitement of getting up each day, bounding out of bed, simply because it is a new day of life?

Bills?

Responsibility?

Cynicism?

As the sunlight barely breaks forth on the horizon in the wee hours of the morning, which also seems to through some cosmic timer cause my littlest one to pop his eyes open, the pitter-patter of his feet race to my bed,

(Running, always running!)

he gently places his sweet lips close to my ears and whispers,

"Mom, mom...I did it! I woke up!"

And even though my first reaction wants to be, "Well, la-de-da! Now I am too, much before I really wanted to be,"

(Am I sounding like a completely horrid mother?)

I say, "Yes you did, love! I am so glad!"

Because Connor has it.

What a gift--he woke up.

We woke up.

What's not to be passionate about this?

From this perspective, we have been given another day of life.

To learn.

To grow.

To be together.

Breathing is miracle.

When I think of life in these terms, I can't help but be passionate.

I can't help but be deeply grateful.

I can't help but run.

For all of these things...

are miracles.

Ordinary miracles.

But miracles nevertheless.

I cannot say enough at how much my boys have changed me,

are changing me.

Each day is an annunciation--an encounter with God, proclaiming new life that has been given.

So let's live.

Owen and Connor, not only do you make me a better mom,

you are making me a better person.

The depth of my love for you both can never be described fully.

I only pray that each day you will know and feel it.

Thank you.

**Please switch over to www.everything-belongs.com, the new hosted site of this blog.**

Step By Step

2011-07-25T10:36:00.000-04:00

Life has been happening.

And that is a good thing.

So, pardon me for not being a better blogger this summer.

On our recent travels together as a family, I realized again just how important play is.

To break away, to rest, to just be.

..together...

Because let's be real, how often does that really happen?

All together--with no agenda, nothing to do, nowhere to go.

No prodding, hustling, (and well, threatening).

It just is.

And it is good.

We climbed dunes--crystal sand high as mountains (and as hot as the Sahara),

with cheers of encouragement coming from the youngest of the group that gave strength and chuckles to the older ones.

"We can do it--together--we can do anything! Just one step at a time...that's all it takes!"

Just one step.

Just one step at a time.

Owen, you are so wise.

So why do I feel the compulsion to run, to sprint--only to burn out?

Or become completely overwhelmed at the task before, seeing the mountain ahead--and paralysis sets in.

But really, life is only needing to take one step at a time.

And I'm not alone.

Never alone.

Big hands and little ones grasp together, pulling and steadying. The mountain is steep, but we are together.

High fives and sky high emotions as we tower over Lake Michigan proud of the feat we accomplished--and Mama prouder still of her babe that did it with such grace, insight, and determination.

He is a special kid.

As we sat in the shade catching our breath just to lose it again at the expanse of the view, I caught glimpse of Shawn's shirt--"Life is Good."

Yes, life is good.

Even in the struggle of the mountains that we face each day--and for some, each hour, minute or second--we struggle forward together, sweaty hands grasped tight.

For it is on the mountain that we encounter the Creator--the one who gave us all things, who reminds us that even still,

life. is. good.

No wonder mountains are holy places.

For it is from this place, we are given a new perspective.

God, thank you for this life.

Thank you for not only meeting me on the mountain, but even in the journey of struggle to the peak. For you walk with me all along--just as you always do. Sometimes I am just so blinded by the sun and heat and wind, I fail to notice those blessings you place within my hands, both big and small helping me forward,

step by step.

*****If you are reading this in Blogger, please change over to: www.everything-belongs.com.*****

Time Out

2011-07-13T21:36:00.000-04:00

The other morning as the boys jumped into and promptly began tossing and turning, kicking and wiggling in our bed,

--no need for an alarm clock here, good morning 6am--

Connor sat straight up, looked at me in the eyes and said (I kid you not):

"Jesus wants you to have a time out."

Perhaps this came from wanting to exert his own power in control in discipline, or out of his amazingly sly and dry sense of humor, but it took me off guard.

And I saw that he was absolutely right. Jesus does want me to have a time out. Because life just gets too busy, too complicated, too dark, too confusing sometimes. Just within the last month my life and the lives of those I care about have been full of cancer reports, child custody hearings, moving dilemmas, job losses, theology debates, pregnancy disappointments. As the cares and concerns compound, I find myself feeling swept over by the inability to take away hurt, pain, disappointment. My heart bleeds. Overtime, what do you do with it all this?

Take a time out.

Of course. Thanks, Connor.

Being still, instead of trying to rationalize, overanalyze. Releasing the need to fix situations, or feeling guilty for not knowing what to say.

Because sometimes...there just aren't any words to say.

The only thing, the best thing, that I can do is to be still and release these hurts and pains to the One who loves and cares for these even more that I.

Far greater.

My job is not to fix. It is to help where I can, offer support and continued love...and to release them into the greater Light that shines forth peace beyond understanding and comfort beyond measure.

For this is the greatest gift I can offer.

Exciting News...

2011-06-21T09:29:00.002-04:00

Hello readers!

I am so excited to share with you all that I will be one of the guest bloggers at(In)courage, a website that is geared towards encouraging the hearts of women. I will let you know when to expect my post, entitled, "Hide & Seek."

As always, I love it that you continue to follow and read this blog. As you can see, it has been going through some changes, with some more to come over the next several weeks. (**If you are still reading this blog on Blogger, try to switch your RSS feed over to www.everything-belongs.com/ and see if it will redirect you to my new site. We are still working out the kinks.**) I'd love it if you would leave a comment/thought when it comes out on the (in)courage blog.

Thanks for the support--I'm deeply humbled and in awe of how God continues to work...

When you can't find the words

2011-06-14T21:41:00.001-04:00

What does a day filled with sun, swimming, and hungry bellies waiting for dinner add up to?

Lots of tears. Screams. Fits. Gnashing of teeth.

Don't you wish you could have been a guest at the Gerber's tonight?
Consider yourself lucky.

As we sat down at the spread table with my wailing babe, and hands were extended towards one another to grasp for grace (quite literally, from my perspective), we sang.

"I can't sing!" cried the droning bass. "I can't sing."

As I held his little hand in mine, through his sputtering and gasping, I whispered,
"It's okay. You don't have to. We will sing for you."

I didn't really even give these words much thought as they escaped my lips, until after they touched the wind. Everyday sacred. Here it is. Even in the mess. Especially in the mess.

In the dark, in the hopelessness, in the fear...
when God seems to be nowhere in sight, or exhaustion runs so deep--where even breathing seems labored...

Let us sing for you.

The power of God's people. Holding for you--for me, when things seem to be too much. Keeping faith, when it is hard to find, as long as needed.

I continue to think back on this dinner interchange time and time again tonight. And find myself moved at the depth of these words. This truth.

I've experienced the singing community. As has my family. And I have had the honor of singing for others.

So wherever your find yourself today, well-fed and nourished; or pit-empty and aching, know there is a place for you at the table.

There is always a place at the table--after all, isn't that what family is all about?
You bring the good, bad, and ugly.

And it is at this Table, that we hold hands and say grace.

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought,

but that very Spirit intercedeswith sighs too deep for words.

~Romans 8:26

A Sabbath Prayer

2011-06-12T10:05:00.002-04:00

A fitting prayer for me, this morning. I hope it meets you in your places of longing...

The risen, living Christ
Calls me by my name;
Comes to the loneliness within me;
Heals that which is wounded in me;
Comforts that which grieves in me;
Seeks for that which is lost within me;
Releases me from that which has dominion over me;
Cleanses me of that which does not belong to me;
Renews that which feels drained within me;
Awakens that which is asleep in me;
Names that which is formless within me;
Empowers that which is newborn within me;
Consecrates and guides that which is strong within me;
Restores me to this world which needs me;
Reaches out in endless love to others through me.

~Flora Slosson Wuellner
from Prayer, Fear, and our Powers, Upper Room Books, 1989.

With all that I am, all that I shall be, and all that I cannot yet even imagine,

I offer to you today.

In your loving embrace, fill me with your goodness and mercy and light,

so that wherever I tread,

You are seen.

Go with me, and those who read these words, now and always.

In this Sabbath day, meet us along the road.

Encountering Grace

2011-06-03T12:34:00.002-04:00

There were his shoes. Sitting by the door. Just as he left them. Day after day they sat there, reminders of the gap of his presence.

Daddy? Hospital? the little voices rang.

Yes, dear ones, Daddy is in the hospital. He loves you so much and can't wait to come home.

Long days, longer nights. Exhaustion strickens.

But Grace upholds.

Midnight calls, pleas for help, Grace comes. Without excuse, without complaint, Grace shows up and sits.

Phone calls, visits, texts, prayers, food.

Grace extended.

As I sat on the hospital bed, with beeps and tubes and needles, holding the hand of my love, we speak of this Grace that comes and keeps on coming. Freely and unencumbered.

We weep.

Grace sustains.

What is this? This miracle of sustenance--showers of manna, everyday covering our ground. Funny at how the word, "manna," in Hebrew means, "What is this?" What is this that comes and feeds and allows us to live, even as we encounter the desert of life?

Grace is gift.

And all we can do is to go out and gather this "what is it?" every morning, unable to repay what has been given. But to accept what has been offered and gather enough for the day, knowing that tomorrow more will be there.

We live.

Thanks be to the Great Physician... and to the people of God.

Through you, we have seen God.

ps. I will continue to copy and paste here, until I can get the kinks worked out with Wordpress (about updating everything-belongs.com to your readers).

Re link me

2011-06-02T12:41:00.000-04:00

Hi friends!

As I was cruising around on the web, getting caught up on blogs, etc...,I noticed that my "update feed" wasn't coming up on a few of your blogs. I think it is because I switched to Wordpress (even though my address is the same).

If you want to get the latest update from me, try relinking my address again. Hopefully it will redirect you there.

www.everything-belongs.com

Thanks for reading!

Run D.M.C.

2011-05-26T07:00:00.026-04:00

Give two little boys a set of headphones,
attached to nothing,
and see what they come up with.

Where do they get this from?

Must be from the rapper, G-mommy.

I'm moving

2011-05-25T09:45:00.000-04:00

I am attempting to move to my blog to a new host: Wordpress. I like the features and look better. Hopefully, it will all work out smoothly and I won't lose everything!!

I am not anticipating that it will change anything for you, dear readers. My domain name should be the same...www.everything-belongs.com

But incase it does, I'm currently using, rachelsgerber.wordpress.com, as an initial way to activate my account there, in hopes to switch over my domain name soon, if it doesn't do it automatically.

We shall see...
We shall see.

Transforming the funk

2011-05-24T20:47:00.002-04:00

So, I've been in a funk lately.

Running, running, running....
yet seemingly going nowhere.
And nothing gets done.
The clothes are still not put away,
the dishes impregnate,
and dirt.
Oh my.
Where does it come from?

Two words.
Little boys.

It is just how it is.
And how it will be.
And maybe even,
how it should be.

And yet, some days it is just so exhausting.
The attitude,
the mess,
the monotony of the hamster wheel that seems to never. stop. never. stop. never. stop....

As I turn out of the drive to catch a few hours of mama-brain time,
here run two pint-sized beauties,
reflections of their (F)ather,
waving hog-wild after me...

"Mom! Mooooooom! I love you!
Happy Mother's Day!
(Thanks, albeit a few weeks late)
Merry Christmas!
(The little one trying to keep up with the holiday cheer)
L've you!"

I smile.
Smile because I am going out...alone?
Of course,
but my heart beams.

Two boys.

Chaos.
Of course...
because I have
two boys.

Why do I forget?
How can I forget the blessings?

They fall fresh upon,
dusting off the tiredness,
the monotony.
I have be given
two
boys.

Two messy,
crazy,
syrupy-sweet,
boys.

I realize that in the remembering of these blessings,
and giving thanks,
transformation takes hold.
Of everything.

In the moment of this epiphany my soul hearkens to the one I cannot shake in this Easter season, when the cloaked Jesus appears.

As they came near the village to which they were going,

he walked ahead as if he were going on.

But they urged him strongly, saying,

‘Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.’

So he went in to stay with them.

When he was at the table with them,

he took bread,

blessed and broke it,

and gave it to them.

Then their eyes were opened,

and they recognized him;

and he vanished from their sight.

~Luke 24:28-32

For the eyes of these weary travelers were opened,

not only as they offered hospitality--

as they opened their home,

a place to stay, play, eat, be to this one passing through--

But it was in the very act of giving thanks for "their daily bread,"

that they saw the Christ.

They saw the One who was with them the entire time.

For in the act of giving thanks

for the daily blessings of life,

it transforms,

awakens

my dull heart

to see the true gifts in my life.

And the One that is always present...

even in the pint-sized packages.

Especially in the pint-sized packages.

Holy work.

(Which is also, holy work, Batman!)

Though I do this never alone,

always with the Christ that journeys with.

Offering strength and sustenance.

May I not forget.

And if when I do...

Christ, meet me

again

on this laundry-stained road.

How to be happy in life

2011-05-19T00:07:00.004-04:00

Happiness.

Want to know how to get it?

The secret is right there, if you read between the lines.

Which is right where I got stuck today in reading Psalm 146.

Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord their God..

Whose help is in God.

Help.

This is what struck me,

the ever-independent...

I need to be willing to be helped.

Tough to swallow considering I tend to identify with the Enneagram Type 2,

which is aptly named,

HELPER.

To offer help is one thing, but to be willing to be helped is another.

It takes vulnerability,

trust,

release.

Plunging into my soul I must ask myself the query that looms,

down-deep,

at the center of the core,

do I really believe that it is God who holds everything together

or is this the mask that covers the true lie--

it's me?

Me, the helper,

the one who is always trying to be good,

to earn love,

and acceptance...

bearing the martyr burdens,

thinking in exchange happiness will ensue?

But this is a dead end road.

And ultimately...life.

Because I. am. not. God.

In this resurrection season,

as death digs deep in the earth

only to release the hope and joy of new life,

so do I stretch my hands upward.

Turning my face heavenward,

I realize that happiness is found

in who comes to me.

The true Help--

the one who is always first reaching out

to this mama who tries so hard,

(or am I just distracted, afraid of seeing the Light?)

but continually falls short.

Yet breathes grace.

Upon grace.

It's not up to me.

It's not all up to me.

Release brings peace.

If so, then could this be where true joy is found?

For there is nothing that can separate me from this Love.

Hand and help outstretched.

For always and forever.

True life released to live.

Dare I trust in this grace

that accepts the whole of me,

just as I am?

As the soul-tired mama whose guilt rises with each PBS show,

whose mind clammers with shouts of should's and could's?

The weight buries.

Am I willing to accept this sweetness?

Because maybe in this case,

receiving really is better than giving.

Can I receive this gift given so freely?

With no thank-you note expected in return?

Yet, might my life,

lived well,

full of love,

grace,

and overflowing joy

be enough.

A picture says a thousand words

2011-05-15T23:57:00.003-04:00

Wrestle-Mania

2011-05-06T13:26:00.003-04:00

Have you ever second guessed a decision as a parent?
Here's mine today:

They couldn't wait to put on their new summer pajamas...they tore it out of the bag the moment we got home.

And started wrestling.

Of course.

Was I thinking they were just going to prance around looking cute?

Not a chance.

Will there be sleep tonight?

Odds are slim to none.

Yet they do make me laugh.

Especially when Owen told me, after putting on his "uniform,"

"I don't have underwear on, because wrestlers don't wear them.

Oh, and I need water. Lots of water. Wrestlers need water."

...as he body slams off the couch.

It's going to be a fun afternoon around here!

This Present Moment

2011-05-05T15:32:00.002-04:00

As a parent, especially to little ones,
especially to curious boys,
I find that I need to supervise them under a fairly watchful eye.
Or something like this might happen:

Just saying.

Yet, I am realizing that even when I am there, I might not really be all there.

No, not in the "I'm losing my marbles" way,

but in the emotionally present way.

In the way that takes in the wonder of the moment,

that truly hears and shares in the laughter,

that sees beyond the tears and squabbles,

that enters in to the gift of life.

Because life flashes by.

And where will I be when I finally wake up?

50?

70?

Will my boys have receding hair-lines and bifocals?

And how I will long for these days of managed chaos back...

running feet,

muddy worms,

blueberry shampoo.

Millions of details swallow my presence on a fairly regular basis:

phone calls to return,

dry cleaning to pick up,

play dates to make,

meetings to attend,

food to prepare,

toys to pick up,

laundry to fold,

bills to pay,

plants to water.

But that is just what they are...

details.

Is my life going to be ruined if I don't get to all these details?

Absolutely not.

But, if I allow these details to take over my life,

my presence,

the only gift I really have to offer another,

my beloveds,

it just might.

Perhaps the devil really is in the details.

And so today, I intentionally walk slower with two small hands in mine

for there is no need to rush,

no need to drag,

no need to clip along.

For the moment is here.

And it is a gift.

As I am present, to this moment...

and God help me, the next too...

life almost comes to a stand-still.

I'm here.

They are here.

I am watching,

experiencing,

shaping,

life.

What an honor.

Calm in the storm

2011-04-27T00:56:00.002-04:00

The wind started blowing. And blowing. And blowing. The sky began to turn orange-grey and thunder rumbled. Lightning flashed. Hail pounded.

Oh yeah--a thunderstorm.
And a good one at that.

I had one boy open all the blinds, oohhh'ing and ahhhh'ing completely fascinated by this natural feat.

The other?
You can probably guess...

Wild-eyed and terrified.

As I held him close, all twisted in his monkey-limbs,
explaining the booms and cracks,
uncovering the mystery of his displaced anxiety,
I understood.

For he and I are not too far apart.

I worry and fret and wonder and obsess. From mud stains to life goals.

And here as I held my wee one, wrought with fear, my heart was at near-explosion limits of love and compassion on the scale of Fukushima, for my shaking leaf.

I. get. it.

I only see part.
God sees full.

I only see the wind...the thunder...the lightning...the hail. In my babe-sense of understanding, somedays the world seems to be falling apart. The windows shake, the ground shifts, it feels as though it will be like this forever.

But I only see in part.

I don't understand how storms work, how fronts come through, how thunder and lightning echo. In my fear and anxiety I am blinded from seeing the beauty of its majesty and how the rain nourishes the earth (and gives me a break from watering the garden!).

But He sees the whole.

As my wild-eyes look up, tossed in the storm, I see that I do not need to feel ashamed. For still, still, I am held in a loving and compassionate gaze. In tender arms that soothe and caress.

It's all going to be okay.
It's all going to be okay.

For I only see in part.
But God knows the whole.
I only see the storm.
But God sees the life cycle.
And there is no chiding, no "buck-up," no dismissing.
Only deep love.

If you only knew.
If you could only see the whole.

Parenting is such a gift.
I'm learning so much from being their mama.
Widening and expanding my own concept of God.
Beginning to really...see.

And give thanks in the storm.

Disappointments

2011-04-22T07:18:00.001-04:00

And it rained blood.
Again.
We thought this month would be different.
I felt so sure.
So secure.
The disappointment overwhelms.
Again.
Where did we go wrong?

As I looked in the bathroom mirror wiping the sleep from my eyes,
I saw the reflection of the disciples who were also so sure
they knew the ending.
This time.
This time would be different.
They were sure of it.
And yet,
it rained blood.
Disappointment overwhelms.
Where did they go wrong?

Pain stings.
It pierces.
Blood runs red.

Today I sit in the darkness,
in solidarity with confusion,
unfulfilled dreams,
crushing sorrow.

Yet, I do not lose hope.

For I know the end of the story.
Darkness does not win.
The night does not last forever.
For Sunday is coming.
And the dawn will rise,
blazing like the noonday,
crushing fear,
defeat
and death.

And even if the stick never reads positive again,
my Resurrection sight awakens my inner eye
to see the life that I've been given.

Owen
and
Connor.

Such grace.
Such grace.

Going green

2011-04-20T22:29:00.001-04:00

Tonight we decided to go out for a picnic at the park behind our house.
It was lovely.
In many ways.

The boys ate,
played,
explored;
Shawn and I lounged leisurely
watching,
smiling,
full of gratitude for such amazing boys.

It was what I needed.
Actually, it was what everyone needed.
Fresh air,
beauty upon beauty,
getting dirty and not caring.

After we finished up, we explored a nature trail through the woods.
As we slowly meandered on the path
through mustard,
mushrooms,
wild onions,
purple trumpet
and white star flowers,
while keeping our distance from any skinks that might be lurking,

(Sidenote of vileness: We were terrorized by one Sunday evening that lurked under our couch. It did not end pretty.)

we breathed.

We became alive again.

There is just something about being in nature,
in beauty,
in creation,
that re-creates.
That builds the soul,
that centers,
and reconnects.

To myself,
to others,
to the Creator.

I wonder if this mystery of re-creation happens
because I am surrounded by the elements in how it all began.
That I'm going back to the organic connection of what was,
and what still really is,
apart from cell towers,
PBS kids,
cables and wires,
desks and air conditioning.

For in that longing to be reconnected,
truly connected,
in that desire to breathe deeply again,
I am really yearning to behold the One whom holds all these things together.
Oh how I forget.

For my life and all that fills it,
the synthetic stuff and perpherial junk,
after time,
creates stagnant air,
and my soul longs for freshness.
It screams out, "Open the windows!"

That is what re-creation is all about.
That is, at the core, what I long for.
To reconnect with the Beauty that created me.
And all this.
And no amount of primetime TV,
sleep,
and unfortunately, chocolate
will truly satiate.

As we were walking back,
laughing with abandon,
Connor stopped us dead in his tracks.
Listen.
Listen, he said.
Then he pointed up.
Up to the heavens.
There a cardinal sang out to us.

Yes, the heavens.

Of course, it all comes from up there.

A flame in the midst of budding growth.
Passionate beauty,
Spirit gift,
the song of God.

Go for a walk.
By yourself.
With your family.
Recreate together.
Re-create your spirit.

Working the interior soil

2011-04-18T23:43:00.004-04:00

The red, clay soil felt cold in my hands as I dug deep, trying to loosen the earth. As I squeezed and pulled, breaking the clumps of humus apart, I realized that the process of growing takes preparation.

In order for my salvia to take root and thrive,
the soil must be tended.
It must be tilled,
fertilized.

I must prepare.
I must dig deep into the soil of my soul,
I must not be afraid to do the hard work and get dirty,
because it is from this place that growth happens.
Formation occurs.
Shape takes form.

She came tumbling over.
"Wat yo doin'? Yo planting flowers? Oooohhhh--let me help!"
Her first-grade body jumped right in exploring the tools, digging deep.
"I know how to use a shovel. I saw it once in a movie."

So we dug.
Together.
City girl.
With the Menno.
In the dirt, hands now the same color, we plunged deep.
Reaching deep and loosening,
planting and spreading,
we created something beautiful.

But it was more so that this.
For as new beds were forged,
in the midst, the Gardener was cultivating me.
For in the process of working my hard clay dirt,
the rocks and weeds blocking me from receiving and offering
love,
generosity,
and thanksgiving,
were being thinned.
For here working by my side was Joy.

And the sticks and stones
of my Pharisaic grumble mellowed,
because she illuminated my own hypocrisy by her simple honesty.

Perhaps I needed Tutti's drop-by visit more than she did,
to unearth
and revive my dry bones,
tired bones,
thinned bones,

with the wonder,
the miracle,
the mystery of Possibility.

As the sun sank and goodbyes rang into the night,
I stood, cascading water over our garden.
Praying with face wet that Rain would fall upon me,
watering the places within that had grown dry,
crusty,
hostile,
making me pliable
and capable
for nurturing
new life.

The Lord will guide you continually,

and satisfy your needs in parched places,

and make your bones strong;

and you shall be like a watered garden,

like a spring of water,

whose waters never fail.

~Isaiah 58:11

Getting bathed

2011-04-12T00:57:00.003-04:00

I generally pride myself on having fairly clean children.
But with boys, fairly is the operative word.
As Connor was snuggling with me on the couch
the other afternoon reading a book,
that sweet baby-freshness
just. wasn't. there.
Baby-foulness was more like it.
When was the last time Connor got a bath?

Living with smells...
it makes me ponder my own...

Lazarus had been dead 4 days.
In a swelterly climate
human remains don't last long.
Even in a dark cave,
the stench would be fierce.

Take away the stone,
Jesus calls.

NO--the stench.
The stench of my doubts,
fears,
insecurities,
permeates thick.

You haven't even given your child a bath yet?
What kind of mother are you?

But more than that...
darker and deeper grows the tomb.
Is that all that defines you?

The darkness hides.
And lies.
Though small and confined,
I know the limits.
Although limiting...

But living in the stench,
is not really living.
It is death disguised.

The Easter season is about awakening to who we really are,

to who God has called us to be,

for the sake of the world.

I'm not talking vocational terms,

but formational terms.

How am I being called to resurrect love,

light,

patience,

peace,

gratitude,

forgiveness...

in my life?

So that the world might know the One from whom these things come.

Forget about the stench, I hear.

Believe.

Believe that I am capable of doing far more than this.

Far more than you can ever hope of...or imagine.

Again he calls out--

Roll the stone away!

Just as Golgotha could not contain him,

so too,

he invites me to rise to new life.

COME OUT!

Go and take a bath.

The good life

2011-04-03T17:27:00.001-04:00

Vacation with preschoolers, is not a vacation.
By any stretch of the imagination.
Do not be fooled.

However, it does constitute a trip.
A change of scenery,
a change of pace,
a change.
Period.
And with the monotony of daily life,
change is good.

We just got back from a lovely almost two-week trip.
It was warm,
it was sunny,
and there was sand.

As I was (momentarily) sitting on the edge of the expanse of wet,
gentle breeze kissing my face,
I thought,
Life Is Good...

even amidst my seagull chasing,

sand kicking,

soccer scoring,

wave jumping,

sea shell hunting

beach bums.

No, there was not much relaxation here.

But there was rest.

Not so much in the physical sense,

but in the Sabbath sense.

By stepping back out of my normal,

daily routine,

even if for only a moment,

I see more clearly.

I. am. blessed.

More than I realize.

Taking Sabbath,

being mindful of what is,

pausing to take inventory,

and giving thanks,

renews life.

Because it reminds me again,

and again,

that at the core,

beyond the superficialities that cloud,

life really is good.

I have people to love

and who love me,

legs to run,

arms to hold,

laughter to hear,

chocolate ice cream to taste.

Memories to make.

And perhaps the greatest realization is that,

I don't need sun and sand to get it.

For nothing in my life really changed,

but me.

Being open and willing to see,

what

really

is.

Reinventing leftovers

2011-03-15T20:01:00.001-04:00

So, I'm completely plagiarizing this title from my friend

who is starting a new food blog, The Present Moment.

What a great title, eh?

As I was reading about her suggestions to transform leftovers

from meatloaf to shepherd's pie,

I realized that my life as a mother is a lot like this.

On a daily basis.

I am the queen of reinventing.

Getting my picky four year old to eat another meal...

Dressing my two year old with a bit more variety...

as a parent, each day brings new takes on the same challenges.

Yet as a parent,

at the end of the day,

I often wonder about the leftovers.

Because after it is all said and done,

there usually isn't much left.

If any.

Bone tired might be the word.

Giving, giving, giving.

And then when you think you've given it your all,

someone pukes.

But somewhere, the strength comes to give again.

It's a mystery that where there seems to be none,

bounty overflows.

The disciples, just coming off of an intense journey,

trying to find space,

a break,

a retreat,

were being hounded by more.

And more.

Then Jesus said,

"You feed them."

Feed them all.

Woah.

The "crowds"in my life hem in.

Little boys,

writing assignments,

marriage,

friends,

family,

home,

etc...

Haven't they taken enough already?

Feed them more?

With what?!?

The question resounds,

"How much bread do you have?"

Jesus doesn't ask for a lot.

He just asks for what I have.

And even at the end of the day,

where there are only crumbs in my pocket,

I hear,

"That's enough."

Because it really isn't about me.

It really isn't about what I have.

It is about what I offer.

Because the mystery of enough,

the mystery of provision comes

not in what I have,

but in what I give.

No matter how much

or how little.

And it was Jesus who blessed it.

It was Jesus who broke it.

Who used those five small loaves,

and the two smelly fish,

and multiplied the offering.

And to the disciples amazement,

at the end of the meal,

there were twelve baskets of leftovers.

Twelve baskets for twelve disciples.

Hungry and tired,

overworked and underpaid.

And they were satisfied.

Jesus, take my crumbs.

Transform these leftovers,

into something that not only feeds my crowds,

but my soul.

The burning heart

2011-02-22T16:16:00.004-05:00

This morning wasn't been one of the best.
I was up way too late last night exercising,
making it much too difficult to settle down to sleep.

Lack of sleep
(whom I really have no one to blame but myself)
coupled with two grouchy boys,
freezing rain,
and realization that Shawn is on-call yet again...
didn't make me the best mama this morning.

As I was about to rage on the world,
trying to maneuver slow munchkins out the door,
with not nearly enough caffeine in the veins,

Rush, rush, rush.

Push, shove,

move, jostle,

hurry, hurry,

come on!

the phrase, "Life is not an emergency,"
sang to my heart.

When I took pause and really considered my life,
when I looked at my immediate need at hand,
it was apparent.

My life right now, is not an emergency.

Being 2 minutes late to preschool
will not make much of a difference in the grand scheme of life.
And that is the truth.

What is it then that rages?
What is it then within me that makes me think that emergencies are everywhere?
The laundry pile.
The spilled milk.
The getting out of bed.
Again.
And again.

Annoying, yes.
Emergency, no.
Let's be real.

There is not much in life that is a true emergency.

So, what is it then?
Perhaps it is buying into scarcity.
That things are quickly slipping away.
That my control is fading.
That there will not be enough
time,
energy,
effort,
resources.
There is never enough.

But what is the truth?
The real truth?
Can I handle the truth? (insert joke here.)

The truth is,
is that God has given us all we need.
God is a God of abundance,
not scarcity.
Everything is in God's hands.
And I'm being invited to notice it.
To slow down enough,
to see these moments for what they really are.
And they are not emergencies.

And so, when things get really ramped up,
both in boys,
chores,
and in soul;
I breath in again Jehovah-jirah,
and say,

"I have been given all I need."

And my eyes are opened.
For there is abundance here.

Lots of arms (big and small) to pick up toys.
Luxury and convenience of having a dishwasher.
Sunshine peaking out from the clouds during rush hour traffic.

Perhaps this is how those two felt
when they walked the long road towards Emmaus.
Panic,
confusion,
bewilderment,
was their journey.
But it was in the breaking of bread,
in the mystery shared,
they saw that they had all they needed.
From the very beginning.

"Were not our hearts burning within us
as he was talking with us along the road?"

Luke 24:32

May your emergencies be transformed into Emmaus' today.

Much bread for the journey for you today.

And always.

Con-man

2011-02-20T22:07:00.003-05:00

A picture to get your week off to a good start...

I'm a lucky Mama.
And a procrastinating Mama.
(But I did manage to get his 2yr. pictures taken just shy of two and a half.
It counts, right?)

Yes, look at those eyes and smile...you can tell I have my hands full.

But full they also are of:
laughter,
trucks,
books,
hugs,
and
jokes.

A G-man original coming to a Second City near you:
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Cookie.
Cookie who?
Cookie monster!
Yummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
(In a very realistic Cookie Monster voice, I might add.)

Connor, my heart smiles looking into your dark brown eyes.
You. are. a. gift.
Even when I know those brown eyes are saying much more...

...like, "Where's the Kleenex?"

Play is the name of the game

2011-02-17T16:09:00.004-05:00

How many times do I hear this phrase a day?

"Mom will you play with me?"

Like, somewhere in the ballpark of a hundred-million-gazillion times.
Give or take a few.

Lately, Owen, who still loves his safari escapades, begs me to play animals with him each and every afternoon...or basketball...or hockey...or Master Mind...or his made-up games like "ball-catch" where we roll small balls on the ground and try to catch it with a teacup from the play kitchen.

...during the time when Connor is sleeping and laundry needs to be folded, lunch dishes need to be cleared and washed, and/or sitting down with a drink and book really looks appealing. He generally is pretty good about playing by himself for awhile, as I get some of the above done or rest.

Which is completely fine.
And appropriate.
He needs to learn to play by himself and have some alone quiet time.
And so do I.

But in the midst of doing my now fine-tuned crocodile-hunter Steve Irwin voice, during a recent mid-afternoon safari, I realized again in a new way that the simple question of, "Mom will you play with me?" is just another way of Owen wanting connection. Of me completely paying full-attention to him without distraction of his brother or father. Because let's be real. My full attention to him or anyone doesn't come by too often.

And so answering in the affirmative is not only a way of me tangibly showing him my love,
that I value him and his creativity,
and want to spend time with him,
above the things that can wait;

but also, that this is his 4-year old way of sharing his love for me.

That he values me so much,
that he is choosing me to play.
He wants me.
He enjoys spending time with me.

For play is his love language.

And so I will play.
Because I do love him.
More than he will ever know.
And that by accepting his play,
I am also accepting the love he offers to me.

I'm sure this phrase will change over the years,
"Can I have some money?"
"Can I take the car?"
Perhaps even,
"Leave me alone."
But I pray that I have the ears to hear underneath it all,
his longings of love,
and accept what he offers.

But for now....even right-now as I finish up this post...
"Will you play with me?" reigns.
And so he crawls up on my lap, and we play.

On death, Love, and living life

2011-02-14T12:03:00.001-05:00

Quiet moments don't come by me real often in this house full of testosterone. Because I know, it if is too quiet...there is a reason. And it is often not good. And if often involves a mess. Usually a large one. So no, quiet moments don't come by often.

But I need them.
The quiet, not necessarily the mess (although it comes with the turf)!

I need them to think, to reflect, to just...be.

It's how I stay focused, keep mindful, fill my patience tank.
Being in the quiet reorients me to what these days are all about.

In the quiet, I am reminded that the messes,
the games,
the food,
the diapers,
the errands...,
is really just love disguised in different packages.

Giving myself out of love to those I've been entrusted with.
Offering Love and the best of me.

Although I fail often...
fall short way too much of the time,
because love is self-sacrifice...
which is hard.

But I hope that at the end of the day,
at the end of my life,
that my boys will gather around me,
and give thanks.

Not for what I did,
not for what I accomplished,
but for the Love that they felt,
experienced,
came to know.

And I pray that with them,
I will release my soul into the hands of Love,
the Source that holds everything together.

I am realizing more and more,

that I can only offer Love

and truly live life,

when I am able to face death.

And as I look at death in the face,

holding its gaze squarely in the eye,

I realize that it no longer holds fear over me.

Because Love holds me still.

And will not let go.

Facing death I find,

that there is really nothing to fear at all,

for life will go on...

and on...

and on.......

Love gives us, then,

the ability to live.

To truly live.

And to live well.

Because as I know Love,
I am able to offer Love,
and this Love moves,
breathes,
and enlivens my being.
And living like this,
enwrapped in Love,
is the best way to live.

On this Valentine's Day,
may you experience Love like no other,
this Love which is offered to each of us,
candles or not,
roses or not,
lover or not,
for truly the source of all that is Sweet,
holds you close.

May you feel this embrace today,
and hold on tight.

True love

2011-02-10T16:16:00.001-05:00

This afternoon had all the hopes and expectations that a mother needed.

A break.
A respite.
An afternoon getting her haircut and colored.
By herself.

However, when your hairstylist who washes out your color (for the second-time around to correct the first blunder) says, "Well, I don't love it...it's not perfect...but it will do," you can just throw expectation and hope out the window.

(Note: why is finding the right hairstylist in a new town just about as difficult as finding the pair for the leftover sock that is always left after all of the laundry is done.)

Then to top it off, she took my layers just a bit too short, while leaving the bottom long.
Cue the she-mullet.

Needless to say, as immature as it sounds,
as hard as I tried not to,
tears rolled.
Rolling like a river.

My poor, dear husband.
What he deals with...

Ding!
My inbox message alert goes off.
I open to read the text from my ICE:

"You are so beautiful to me even if you are a copper colored business on top, party in the back woman!"

I am blessed to have this guy.
I'm choosing to rock the mullet with my main squeeze on my arm,
knowing that my hair will grow out,
but thank God he won't.

Making the list

2011-02-09T16:41:00.002-05:00

Lately, I've felt really demanding.

Demanding of my husband.

The one who already gives so much,

to his family,

to the ones who sit in darkness of pain and suffering.

Demanding of my boys--

why can't they do more?

why can't they listen?

why can't they (for the love of all things holy) be quiet. for. one. minute?

Even demanding of myself--

to do more,

to be more.

It is exhausting to live like this.

Each morning I wake up feeling like I am on a treadmill.

Run, run, run.

But where am I going?

What do I really want?

I have felt convicted today to see my life through the lens of gratitude.

Because gratitude warms the cold demands.

Gratitude deepens the soul.

Gratitude sees all life as a gift.

Every moment is holy--it is to be honored,

not rushed,

imposed upon,

demanded.

This is love.

Gratitude--to be grateful,

to be full of grace,

that which is given as gift.

To see that which is gift.

God, grant me eyes to see.

But this can only be learned through practice.

I need to do gratitude.

I can't just hope it will come.

I can't just wish it here.

I need to do it.

And so I write these daily glimpses of grace,

life given as gift,

to silence the demands,

the demons that try to steal my life,

my joy,

my love.

1. A warm bed that grew 4 additional legs and arms overnight.

2. Quiet, slow afternoons.

3. The smell of the clean dishes.

4. The squeals of chase.

5. Sister-in-laws that are like sisters.

It is working...

my soul smiles deep within.

Peace nudges the dark.

Life is blessed.

And so, I will continue to write.

I will continue to make my list.

For as I do, the demands of my soul...

the places of darkness within that call out discontent,

are hushed.

And grace rushes in.

Daily bread

2011-02-07T12:00:00.004-05:00

Our recent move to Virginia, as good and as smooth as it has been,
hasn't necessarily been...
easy.

Financially speaking, we went from a good salary and a half,
with no real housing costs, limited food and transportation costs;
to receiving a fellow stipend with which to pay housing, food, and transportation.

Like I said, it hasn't necessarily been...
easy.

But it has been eye-opening and faith-widening.

I've experienced a measure of life in the desert.
But manna always comes in the morning.

Today, it rained down clothes.

She didn't know. She was just clearing out sizes too small from her half-head taller boy. A simple gesture, really. Sorting clothes, giving them away. It just to happened that we really needed some new shirts for our strapping son who seems to grow inches overnight. She didn't know that her sorting and folding were Holy. She was the arm of God dusting our earth with bit of heaven, manna sustaining us one more day.

Trusting in God's provision has been a steep learning curve for me.

What is enough?

Even when our storehouses were full and overflowing, budgets were thrown to the wind, bellies were well-satisfied, there was still a part of me that craved more.

So, what is enough?

St. Tersea of Avila wrote,

God alone is enough.

Let nothing upset you,

let nothing startle you.

All things pass;

God does not change.

Patience wins

all it seeks.

Whoever has God

lacks nothing:

God alone is enough.

Enough is God.

But if I'm real honest, the cynical part of me wonders if this is easy for me to say, knowing that my situation is temporary.

Does it sound trite and too simple?

Reckless and irresponsible?

Maybe.

But in the deepest part of my soul knows this still to be true.

For my soul will always be searching...

My soul will never be at rest until it is in God.

With money in the bank or not.

The humanity of me wants to hoard.

I want to gather more manna than what I need for the day.

I want a check for $50k to land in my direct deposit to ease

the black/red line each month.

I want to grasp/cling at relationships to ease the pain of being alone and new.

I want to over-plan and over-function to control my future.

But really, that would be the easy way out.

Because it blinds me from seeing God's daily movement.

And so I pray the only way I know how,

"...give us this day our daily bread..."

Bread, given daily.

Sustaining my needs for today.

Knowing that tomorrow's bread will come...

tomorrow.

All by myself

2011-02-06T15:06:00.000-05:00

He did it.
The little one, after much anguish and writhing,
finally did it.
The PJ's were on.
By himself.
All by himself.

It makes me pause and wonder how often I am like him,
writhing and wiggling,
squirming and pouting...
trying to do life myself.
All by myself. (Insert 1975 song by Eric Carmen here.)

For what ends?
To show that I'm independent?
Strong-willed?
Tough?
That these traits are somehow better?
More desirable?
That I am somehow better?

But we were never meant to be alone.
Back when Creation was formed, there was Adam and Eve.
Even the animals went into the ark two by two.
Life is meant to be lived together--in tandem.
Bearing with one another,
encouraging,
supporting.

I was reminded of something that I said awhile ago to Shawn--
the lover of my life,
companion on the journey,
the one who truly makes me a better person...
as he was going through some recent vocational angst...
six simple words,
that cut to the heart.
"Let me hold that for you."

What a gift to offer another.
An offer to hold for the another, what is too difficult to bear alone.
To walk with.
To laugh with.
Love with.
This is how life was meant to be lived.
Together.

Jesus said, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” ~Matthew 11:28-30

Ode to Dorothy

2011-01-24T23:33:00.004-05:00

So today at lunch, I asked Owen if he wanted to pray.

"Sure, Mom. Let's sing a song."

Fine. This is fairly typical for our family...not much out of the ordinary.

"I want to sing the Dorothy song."

I'm a bit confused. Dorothy? I don't know a song about Dorothy.
Heck, I don't even know a Dorothy...
unless you count Elmo's goldfish.

"Yes you do! You sing it...'cross and has and Dorothy...!'"
He gets more and more agitated.

Okay, I'm stumped.
Buddy, I have no idea what you are talking about.
Is this a preschool song?

"NO! WE SING IT! YOU SING IT...(insert inaudible melody)...
"cross and has and Dor-or-thy!"
He is quite upset at this point and I am still completely shaking my head in utter confusion and bewilderment.

Dude, what. are. you. talking about?

Then it hits me.
Of course, our good friend, Dorothy!

This revelation was no less than a gift of grace,
because people,
I. had. no. stinking. idea.
what this little dude was talking about,
although he was completely certain I did.

"Christ, we do all adore thee! That's what you want to sing, right?"
(Get it? Do it Mad Gab style..."Christ we do all a 'dorothy.'")

He shakes his head like,
"Duh, Mom. What was your problem? That's what I've been saying all along."

Sure thing, Owen.
Sure thing.
Why didn't I think of it sooner?

I'm not sure I'll be able to sing this song again without chuckling.
Heart smile.

I'm sure Christ adores Dorothy, too.

Life as miracle

2011-01-22T21:26:00.002-05:00

I was struck tonight as I read my littlest pumpkin
Richard Scarry's Best Word Book Ever,
how life is miracle.

Here was my babe-toddler, naming things that I hadn't the slightest clue he knew.

Porcupine?
Sea gull?
Panda bear?
(As distinguished from the also present and named
grizzly,
polar,
and black bear.)

How time moves on--how fast things change.

Soon he will be explaining concepts of inertia,
and the laws of physics before I blink.
Just ask The Professor--my precocious eldest,
who did just that during my latest batch of folding clothes.

What?!
Transferring the concepts...and naming them correctly?
At four?
Who are you?!

In both cases, I sit back...
and smile.
I am beholding a miracle.
Miracle of life,
simply being lived.
Learning,
growing,
loving,
being.

I breathe in.
Miracle.
I awake another day.
Miracle.
I am surrounded by love.
Miracle.
I have a roof over my head, and food on my table.
Miracle.

As I sit, and reflect...
I give thanks for all these...and more.
Because for too long, the lies won.

The discontent,
the anxiety,
the control.

But in the quiet...
as I breathe,
as the miracle of life sustains me,
for one more hour,
one more minute,
I realize that gratitude, silences.

Silences the lies.
And fears.

For there is no place I can go where God is not.
Looking around, I finally notice.
God is here.
Sustaining life.

And so with my miracle breath,
I breathe in grace,
and exhale gratitude.
God. is. good.

Maybe this is how we really live life?
Moment by moment.
Taking notice of the miracle each truly is.
And give thanks.

Look for the pillar

2011-01-19T10:58:00.000-05:00

Being a new year gives me pause to think and reconsider the past and where I want to go in the future. But what it doesn't address is the moment.

The here and now.

The question of who am I?

What are my gifts?

How am I using them?

Utilizing them?

Offering them?

Coming from a conference where I reconnected with some of my cohorts from graduate school days, seeing the amazing ways they are working and offering themselves, and me...?

It fees like desert wandering.

I understand why the Israelites were fearful.

Coming from Egypt, going to the Promised Land...but the journey.

It was taking so long.

It was hot,

cold,

dry,

empty.

What was the meaning of living in-between?

Was there a gift there?

If I really get honest, my current season of life often feels like desert wandering. I know where I've come from, but often the days as a stay-at-home parent feels endless, as the horizon shows sand upon sand. I know, "I am shaping lives, doing a wonderful thing, this is something I will never regret..." and yet the routine and monotony can often get to me...

I feel the heat of the desert sun--ranging with envy of those who seem to be doing more, offering more.

I feel the cold of the desert night--wondering if the light of my gifts are dimming. Will anything be left?

Don't be afraid, whispers across the sand.

There is purpose--

for you are not wandering aimlessly.

You are being formed,

shaped,

grown.

And you are not alone.

Your teachers in this wilderness are two:

a furnace colored corker and a

toe-headed sprite.

They will offer you surprising gifts.

Sustaining laughter,

and joy on the journey.

Do not be afraid.

I AM here,

leading the way,

preparing the path ahead

sheltering the glow of ego

and warming with endless love, compassion and patience.

Look ahead.

The path ahead might looked blocked,

because you can't see beyond me.

Because I am all you need.

Look for the pillar.

"The LORD went ahead of them...

in a cloud by day and in a pillar of fire by night...

and neither left its place in front of the people."

Exodus 13:21-2

Soul's playlist

2011-01-04T13:23:00.000-05:00

He had been sick for 3 days.

For 3 days my oldest who is full of jokes, imagination, and "curiosity" (which let's be completely honest, often leads to time-outs) had been a shell of himself. Eyes sunken in, barely enough energy to look around for more than a few minutes before cocooning himself again with sleep, to allow his immunity to continue its long-battle.

On the third night, I tucked this sick one back in bed for the night, and while I quietly began singing to him, a song that I hadn't sung in awhile came to voice.

I lift my eyes up,
up to the mountains,
where does my help come from?

My help comes from you,
Maker of Heaven,
Creator of the earth.

Oh how I need you, Lord,
you are my only hope,
you are my only prayer,
and so I wait for you,
to come and answer me,
to come and give me life.

As I sung, he, who could barely even lift up his head, took out his hands from the warm covers, and motioned the song. He lifted his hands to the heavens and sang from his soul.

Not even 5 yet, and he gets it.
Where true help comes, where true hope is found, where true life is born.

His soul sang out, without a word even crossing his lips.

May my 32 year-old soul, who has been around along enough to forget from time to time--
compromised and lured by the glitz and glamour,
the to-do lists,
and hyper-viligance thinking I am really in control---
become again like this babe,
fresh from the heart of God,
who knows,
who truly knows,
who holds all things together.

But you know, the more I think about it...
my soul,
deep down,
deep, deep down,
also knows.

Because it remembered the song.
Without me even being conscious of it.
It came just at the right time.
Thank God for our soul's playlist.

Light the night

2010-12-25T22:29:00.003-05:00

...and he was screaming.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night?

Thank you over-stimulation and sugar.

As I opened his door, he came running,

babe arms open wide.

Reassurance needed

in the dark night.

I rocked him back and forth,

back and forth,

drowning out his moans and gasps

with steady, calm whispers

of peace and presence.

Only the night-light pierced the darkness.

Such an ample picture of me.

Such an ample picture of the true Christmas story.

Cries in the night,

swallowing darkness,

overwhelming loneliness,

pressures,

expectations.

And yet, in the midst of chaos,

in the midst of fear,

The Word comes.

"Do not be afraid," He says.

The light bursts forth,

piercing the darkness,

offering hope,

comfort,

peace.

Not only for me and my microcosm.

But hope,

comfort,

peace,

offered for the world.

To a world who is crying out,

writhing with over-stimulation and glut,

like a babe

needing his mama

on a Christmas night.

The Light has come.

The Light shines.

Forever and forever.

Happy birthday, Jesus.

Merry Christmas to you and yours. May the Light of Christ fill you with all light and hope; so that you might deeply know again...

where there is light,

there can never be darkness.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

He was with God in the beginning.

Through him all things were made;

without him nothing was made that has been made.

In him was life,

and that life was the

light of all people.

The light shines in the darkness,

and the darkness has not overcome it.

The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world.

~John 1:1-5, 9

Love in a cup

2010-12-23T10:01:00.002-05:00

I met God this morning.

But again, I didn't see. I didn't notice.

What is it with me?

Even with glasses, I am so blind.

Did Mary ever forget?

A book?

Now?

Right now?

It's 7:30am.

My coffee sits here hot.

I'd really like to drink it...hot.

A book would make it lukewarm at best.

It's 7:30am.

The hour for stillness to prepare and pray for the day--with my hot coffee.

Sesame Street plays in the background, but does not tempt today.

Did Mary ever forget?

"Lap. Up on lap," he says.

He crawls up with book in tow.

As I reluctantly make space, pushing the dark morning drug away,

he snuggles in close.

The warmth of fleece sheets radiate.

The smell of sweet baby lingers.

I breathe.

The Spirit fills me.

Looking into his eyes,

He smiles.

His big toothy grin

comes close and kisses me.

The morning sleep shakes loose and

I remember.

This was meant for my devotions this morning.

Holding the very face of God close,

seeing God's relentless love for me,

in that toothy grin,

and slobbery kiss,

that comes to me with no expectation.

Love that crawls up on this blind mess,

with hair frazzled,

who thinks a cup of hot darkness will truly awaken.

This is a Love who still comes.

A Love who longs to be with.

To curl up close and whisper again to me what my soul longs to hear.

You. Are. Loved.

Making a list, checking it twice

2010-12-20T15:36:00.000-05:00

Owen's never been a fan of costumed caricatures. Santa Claus at the mall is no exception.

As the lights twinkled, holiday music played, and sweet smells of roasted cinnamon almonds wafted, Connor was pretty excited to see the man with the big red belly. Either that, or he was just holding out for the complementary candy cane.

When I asked Owen if he wanted to go tell Santa what he wanted for Christmas he said,

"No thank you. I will just write him a letter and send it."

Encountering the Holy

2010-12-13T10:10:00.002-05:00

The Lord is coming, always coming.

Coming to me in surprising ways,
asking me to trust and join.
Wanting to form new life within.

But, in a world of control where saying yes before analyzing the costs is ridiculous, foolish, unheard of.

Why would I ever do such a thing?

But in the silence…

while I wait…

I too, hear,

“Do not be afraid.”

How do I respond--

to this incredulous request to co-labor with God?

How do I respond to this encounter with the Holy?

I hold this question deep within my spirit today...

as I wait for the one who comes to me.

For the One who always comes to me,

And asks me to join in the mystery.

Yet in this waiting and wondering, I take heart,

For I do this not alone.

Never alone.

Because like Mary and Joseph,

I, too, am told that the one I'm invited to carry is named

Emmanuel,

“God with us.”

Thanks be to God.

"'For nothing is impossible with God.'

Then Mary replied,

'I am the Lord's servant, may it be to me as you have said.'

Then the angel left her."

Luke 1:37-8

Birthing miracles

2010-12-10T09:26:00.002-05:00

Waiting.

It is what the season of Advent is all about.

Waiting for the Light to come into the world.

Waiting, in this world of rush seems so impractical. So, wasteful.

Yet, waiting, is anything but passive. For it is in the waiting that transformation happens. Happens, because we are ready. Ready to see, ready to experience, ready to welcome.

While we wait, new life gestates within. Like Mary growing the Holy Child, we join with her in the waiting, trusting that that which was declared to her was true, and in time, will come to be.

So too are we, mysteriously, gestating with transformation, as we open ourselves up to the possibilities of that which is impossible.

Waiting can be uncomfortable-with swollen ankles and aching backs--we wonder when it will come forth. Yet the Mystery that we each hold, grow in its own time. Coming when ready. We know not the day or hour...but it will come forth. A mother's mantra resounds, "I will not be pregnant forever."

Waiting...watching...for the miracles to appear. For they will appear to those who prepare. For transformation happens to those who say yes. Who are willing to carry the Holy Child within, and in their waiting...watching for the birth.

This is Advent.

The Light of the world coming forth again and again...both in our world--and in our hearts.

He came as a baby

2010-12-07T08:27:00.008-05:00

I see.
Jeeeshus.
There.

There.

Each and every morning, it is the same thing.
As we enter the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning, he spots him.

I see.
Jeeshus.
There.

There.

Our nativity is set on the window-sill that is between our kitchen and living room. As I pull it off the shelf for the little hands to carefully explore, he moves me.

He points out his toes, his fingers, his eyes, his hat. He touches his nose, his mouth, his knees, while gently and lovingly naming each part. He had a body. This is something I often forget.

Our Creator of the Universe, came to us, in a body. But not a body of a mighty gladiator, strong in might to force a revolution. Rather, as a teeny baby---innocent and vulnerable--with 10 fingers and 10 toes, whose earthly mother and father surely counted on a regular basis, like enamored parents do. A baby who relied on the care and love from his family, and who, as he grew into a man, continued to invite a voluntary relationship of love.

Connor strains, and wiggles, and writhes to get a glimpse of this Holy Mystery each and every morning, not out of duty or obligation or guilt, but simply out of curious love. May I too, like this toddler who understands, really understands...ask to see. I want to see, touch, and understand.

Filling the plate

2010-12-03T08:00:00.037-05:00

I hate to admit it, but I gained 3.2 lbs. over Thanksgiving.
Yes, I know,
that.is.a.lot.

But, it was worth it.

The celebration feast and weekend following was delectible. Sitting at the table surrounded by family and friends, hearts full of gratitude for all that's been given, I'd say those 3 lbs. were well worth the Jillian Michaels hell I'm going through now.

I've heard it said that our spiritual walk, in different seasons of life can take on various menus. Once in awhile there is feasting--with extended times for retreats, spaces of silence, and reflection.

Other days is like everyday fare--mac & cheese, tacos, Tuesday nights at Chik-Fil-A. We have moments to offer prayers and read, to integrate our faith with actions.

Yet sometimes, the best we can do is grab a snack. It's throwing the banana, cheese stick, or granola bar in the purse while driving to soccer practice. Catching God on the run, where breathing becomes prayer.

I appreciate these menus so much, because I often attach guilt to my spiritual life in this busy season of life thinking I need to do more. But life right now with active, demanding boys, can't be all about feasting. I can try, and need to, carve out time and spaces for these "holy holiday meals," but realistically speaking, it just isn't going to happen on a regular basis now.
And that is okay. Because God is not something that needs to be "found," as much as noticed. And this can happen no matter what my day looks like.

Life is full of various menus--and I guess it doesn't really matter,
...as long as I'm eating (and gaining weight).

What a mother won't do

2010-12-02T15:27:00.003-05:00

Quandary of the day: "Mommy, I have to go!...NOW!"

A new experience: Peeing in a van via a Mc Donalds water cup as to not wake toddler who fell asleep between errands.

A new prayer of thanksgiving: Thankful for pee, and not poop.

Seeing Beauty

2010-12-01T21:38:00.004-05:00

Down here south of the Mason-Dixon line, generally speaking, we are still in fall. Even as late as last week in the 60 degrees, glowing-red trees and blazing yellow shimmers could still be spotted. As I was zooming down the road, eager to go around a slow-moving Ford, Owen reflectively states as he looks out,

"Mom...isn't that just...beautiful?"

Opening my eyes, I too, see.

"Wow. It sure is, baby, it sure is."

But even more so than the trees flanked by the crisp blue background, the true beauty lies in the one that was able to see the Beauty. For this is no small thing. In a world that is always looking ahead to see what's next, missing the here and now becomes commonplace. To see, to really see, is a gift.

Nurturing the noticing...

Living in Bethel

2010-11-22T22:38:00.004-05:00

I'm a slow learner. But, learning, I am. After a near Three Mile Island red alert last week that nearly put me into nuclear exploding (or imploding) mode, I knew something had.to.change. And so I did.

I sat down.

And played.

I mean really played. I played like I had nothing else to do. I played like it was1999. No dishes, laundry, errands, emails, raking, dusting, ironing, bed-making. Nope. Nothing. Ignore the mess. I heard it said once that, "Trying to keep your house clean with little kids is like brushing your teeth while eating an Oreo." So true.

So, I just sat down and played and tried to breathe in the moment. Even if it was only for a moment.

The curl of his eyelashes. The plopping in my lap. The sweet smell of baby shampoo. The crashing and banging. The cries for kisses and justice.

It was as if time paused. Just for a moment. Air thick with holiness. Even in the ordinary.

The gift of presence.

Given to them.

But really, a gift to me.

For as we built these blocks into hospitals and skyscrapers, roads and houses, I realized that this was not child's play at all.

This was my pillar.

Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, 'Surely the LORD is in this place--and I did not know it!" And he was afraid and said, 'How awesome is this place. This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.'

So Jacob took a stone and set it up for a pillar and poured oil on the top of it and called the place, 'Bethel'--the House of God.

Genesis 28:16-18

Layer upon layer

2010-11-15T21:52:00.006-05:00

In the dark we rocked back and forth.

Silent love pouring from my heart to his.

"I love you, I love, you, I love you," my heart sang.

"Know my love for you, may you always know my love for you."

The only thing separating our hearts was my skin to his:

T-shirt,

sweatshirt,

Colts' jersey,

and soccer jersey.

Yes, four layers. To go to bed. It is our version of the toddler sleep sack. Connor is into a stage now where he just likes putting on clothes and doesn't like taking them off. Whatever works. He sleeps better warmer than colder anyways.

But as I rocked him with my love outpouring for him, heart penetrating through a blanket of clothing, it gave me pause to consider my own "layers." What do I "wear" or "put on" that shields me from receiving Holy love? Out of fear? Out of control? Out of pride?

What mutes me from hearing God's own heartbeat?

Relentless and pure.

Constant and deep.

As a mother's love for her chid.

The more layers I place trying to keep myself warm, the more distant the Heartbeat sounds, the more frozen my own heart becomes.

But ironically, the best way to fight hypothermia is not to put layer upon layer,

but to go skin to skin.

Gratitude Manifesto

2010-11-13T23:53:00.001-05:00

Oh my. It was one of those. Another one of those days. But it started off so, so good. It really did. The intentions were good. So good. After reading the 10 Point Manifesto of Joyful Parenting I was inspired. So inspired. Today would be the day. I will succeed.

I will be more patient,

I will be more understanding,

I will fill my home with laughter,

I will,

I will...

So what happened?

The grocery store.

(Which could use a name makeover from Giant to...
Giant Pain In the Derriere.)

It gets me every time. Every single time.

We start off amazing--hopes are high, spirits are up, giggles and smiles abound. I even went above and beyond by making sure the kids were well watered and snacked and we spent some time together making our grocery list, each boy with pen and marker in hand scribbling down what was needed. I was ready, prepared, focused.

And we made it.

Almost.

But then, there was a line.

In the checkout isle.

Of course.

The lull gave just enough time for the monkeys to climb out of the germ-filled car's window to reach the forbidden fruit lining the isle. M&M's? Tic-Tacs? Gum? Oprah? (Just kidding, the last one was for me...)

I think it is a conspiracy. It is the only plausible explanation. It is a conspiracy against a mother's last frayed nerve. But we made it through, despite many a stern look and word about expectations and appropriate behavior.

But, I was spent. Completely and thoroughly. Couple that with a toddler that refused to nap, a stack of laundry and dishes to do, clogged toilet, a constant request nagging for candy every other nanosecond...slightly put me over the edge.

"Manifesto, oh Manifesto...where for art thou Manifesto?"

From the highest highs to the lowest lows. That really is the parenting journey. Attitude altitude that can change by the day, hour, minute, or second. Snuggling with books (to fighting over who gets to sit on my lap), full-body giggles (to full-body wrestles), bear hugs and sloppy kisses (to runaways and snot), all in an amazingly short amount of time.

This is the parenting journey. A journey of the deepest love. Full of the difficult and the joy.

Joy.

A good reminder.

Joy is one of those amazing gifts that lies subtly constant throughout the ebbs and flows of life. It is an attitude that despite the circumstance has the power to transcend and transform one's own attitude and perspective.

God, grant me more joy.

But you know what?

I think at the heart of joy, is gratitude.

Gratitude for what is. For what's been given, despite the circumstance.

I have two healthy boys who have kind hearts, smart minds, loving spirits, boundless creativity, self-confidence, a sensational sense of humor, and pure zest for life.

I have much to be thankful for.

I am one lucky Mama to be blessed with these treasures.

So maybe, God, grant me more gratitude.

You have given me so much.

Come rain or shine, sickness or health, manners or whines, hungry or full, may I radiate joy for truly,

I.am.blessed.

I have people to love.

Giving thanks

2010-11-11T19:33:00.001-05:00

In this season of giving thanks, my heart just about melted all over the floor tonight at supper.

We sat down together and Shawn led us off on our blessing--a song that we frequently sing, "Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow." The boys are usually very good about joining in, but from the first note, Connor piped up, "I do, I do!" And it continued with increasing intensity through the entire song.

"I do! I do!"
"I do! I do!"
"I do! I do!"

After we sang the final, "AMEN," we asked Connor what he wanted. He folded his hands, closed his eyes and said,

"Dank yu, God."

So innocent, real, and present. A true prayer from the heart. Because sometimes, really, that's all that needs to be said.

"Thank you, God."

There are no other words needed. No fluffy verbose, nor long-winded eloquence. For words cannot express all that God has been, is, and will continue to be. Giving thanks seems to be the only adequate response.

Connor, you reminded me of a very important lesson today.

...and a little child will lead them.

Bread for the Journey

2010-11-09T23:00:00.002-05:00

What in the world am I doing?

Have you ever asked yourself that question, as a parent? I'm not talking the superficial question of running around and walking into the same room a gazillion times having no more clue to what you are looking for than the last time. (Baby brain, is what I call it.)

I mean in the deep, raw, keeping-you-up at night way. What in the world am I doing? Parenting is such.hard.work. It makes me feel as though my head is being twisted and turned in a million directions and all of the competencies that I have (or thought I had) are shattered. Talk about a reality check. What in the world am I doing? How in the world did I ever think I could raise a human being?

And sometimes, if I am honest, really really honest, I answer, "I...don't...know..." Thinking like this makes it nearly impossible to get out of bed. To think of all the things that are waiting to fill the day. The dishes. The laundry. The wrangling. The feeding. The modeling. The teaching. The cleaning. The diapers. The diapers. The diapers. Do I really have what it takes to do this? Again? And again? And again? What in the world am I doing? "I...don't...know..."

But then I hear it.

"Mama."

I arise at this sound and go to the One calling my name. And as I reach down to pick him up from his crib, nuzzling him close whispering, "I love you," I understand.

Jesus asked Peter, the disciple who was lost, disheartened, overwhelmed, in a crisis of faith, four simple words (John 21):

Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Do you love me?

And each time Peter responded, "Yes, you know I love you."
And each time Jesus replied, "Feed my sheep."

As I held this One in my arms, whispering "I love you" in his ear, deep down (way, way down) I knew that I was really answering Him.

His response?
"Feed my sheep."

For the care and love and energy I put forth into nurturing my boys is ultimately, not really even about them. It is about the One that created them...the One that shines in their eyes. Calling out to me, that in the mundane, in the fatigue, in the tedious work of being a parent, this is not the end. But rather the means. The means of loving and serving the Holy.

It is then, to this ends that I receive strength and bread for the journey. That I can get up and put one foot in front of another and digest my breakfast of Manna--given as a gift, even in days of desert wandering.

Sounding the alarm

2010-11-08T18:47:00.000-05:00

My little alarm clock went off this morning at 4:45 a.m. Yes, you read that correctly, 4:45 A.M. With a pounce and a hug this alarm rang his bell soundly, until it was silenced by a glass of juice. No snooze button here.

Do you know what is on TV at 4:45 a.m.? I really hope you don't. Let me tell you, just in case you are curious. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero, unless you want to order "The Best of Soul Train" DVD Collection from TimeLife. (Which actually mesmorized the alarm clock for quite awhile...)

Do you know why nothing is on TV?
Because people should.not.be.getting.up.at 4:45am.

The day was pretty rough...let's be real. There was too little patience and too much laundry. Too little coffee and too much human excrement clean-up and carpet scrubbing. Too little focus and too much complaining.

Yet such are some days. May God's grace still abound, and abound, and abound. Yet, as much as I'd love to get a jump start on grace, God, as it is written,"...your mercies are new every morning...,"

am I asking too much to start the morning a little later tomorrow?

Soul rest

2010-11-05T23:55:00.000-04:00

All I wanted to do was take a nap. Really, is that too much to ask? Ok, not even a nap...like I could restfully close my eyes and drift off into lala-land knowing my 4 year old was roaming the earth like a free man. Not a chance. I just wanted to sit. For 5 minutes. 5 minutes--by myself. In the quiet. Peace and quiet.

"Mom, will you play animals with me?"

This question is heard no less than a million times on any given week. I am not joking. A million times. Maybe more.

"Mom! Come outside and play animals with me. I want to show you something. Will you, will you?" His eyes twinkled.

I breathe in. I breathe out. Although a relatively insignificant query, this question loomed so large. Why me? Why now? I just. want. a. nap.

My needs?

His needs?

Weighing the cost of each...knowing that each one is valid and necessary...

His brown beauties looked at me again with hopeful anticipation, would I come?

Would I?

I breathe in. I breathe out. As I looked again at this gorgeous one asking for nothing but time, what moved me from stillness to action was that I saw the true invitation. My invitation to meet the Creator--the One whose creative personality breathed life into this budding zoologist in front of me. For this invitation was not merely about role-playing with my son, but interacting and affirming and encouraging those gifts that this One placed within.

A huge task?

Or an honor given?

"Sure, I'll come out. How do you want to play today?"

What I saw floored me. Owen had hidden his animals all over the yard in different "habitats." As we lurked and creeped, he told me of their eating habits and mechanisms for survival. He is one smart dude. Either that, or he watches way. too. much. television.

After my tour, I suggested that it would be fun to invite Shawn and Connor around on a "safari." So we spent the rest of the hour or so getting ready by making tickets, brochures/maps, signs, etc...

Welcome to Owen's Safari

Tiger spotting!

Roar!!!

Tour guide explaining how pandas live in trees eating eucalyptus leaves

Giant Panda

Guide explaining camouflage and how chameleons use it to their advantage

Beaver building his dam

Guide allowing petting

It was announced that the zebra just had a baby

Snakes in the dirt (and kangaroo if you look carefully)

Moose in the woods eating grass and berries

Longhorn on the plains

Komodo dragon on the beach

An afternoon encounter with the Creative Divine.

At the end, even though my body was still tired, my soul found rest.

A Cinderella moment

2010-11-04T19:27:00.005-04:00

It's just a little gold band. Well, three to be exact. Placed on my finger by my first love...and removed by my love-to-be. Meaning...(don't start jumping to wild conclusions here)...when I was pregnant, my whole body swelled. We are not talking just the belly bump. I never really had that. Ok, let's be serious. There is no need to even state the word, "really." I never had that. I so envy those beautiful women with the gorgeous baby-goddess look. You know what I mean.

Me? I had the whale look. Enormous, huge, larger-than-life. I was very good at growing babies. Yes, I grew them everywhere. On the belly, chin, thighs, fingers. Needless to say, from a claustrophobic perspective, the ring had. to. go. Or, at least put away in a safe place until I shrunk back to a somewhat recognizable me.

It's been five years. Five whole years. That's a lot of time getting to know my size 9 Target ring that stood in for my golden-boy. When I came across the ring over the weekend and tried it on again, to my surprise, it slipped over my knuckle with ease. My golden-boy is back, safe and sound where he belongs. A symbol of love and commitment forever and for always.

I do find it a bit ironic the circle this ring traveled. Or I traveled through the ring. Like I stated above, it was first put on by Shawn, taken off for my boys, and then placed back on by me. I've had to work really hard in order to get the baby weight and lose my whale-esque shape. In essence, I've had to fall back in love with me again. To love me enough to take care of me. To lose weight, to get in shape, to get healthy again. It wasn't about the number on the scale anymore, it was so much larger, fuller, deeper than that. Honestly, I could care less about the number. Rather, I realized, that if I didn't love me wholly, than I wouldn't be living life at the fullest of who I was and was created to be (the Holy one that created me as His temple). Living less than I was created, in turn means that I was also withholding love to Shawn and my boys (and the rest of the world) with all that I am.

And so, I place this ring on my finger as symbol of love and commitment, not only to the love of my life and the fruit that our relationship produced, but also for me, living fully into the one God created me to be.

Now let's celebrate...on to the reception (for some cake)! Just kidding...a run is in my future tonight.

Happy Halloween

2010-10-30T22:10:00.000-04:00

May sugar abound...

Mind spa day

2010-10-29T12:57:00.000-04:00

Transition takes a lot of mental and emotional energy. Meeting new people, establishing relationships, and continuing budding friendships takes a lot of brain power. I love it, but even for this self-declared extrovert, it can feel tiring at points. That's why Shawn and I were so excited when Chet and Mary were close by! We met our lovely North Carolina friends in Staunton, at a favorite grad school restaurant of choice.

It was so refreshing to have someone from our 'past' to connect with. Conversation flowed freely, ribs dominated the meal, and Shawn and I didn't have to worry about spilled milk, dropped silverware, or cutting plates of bite-sized pieces.

A mental spa day, for sure.

I feel cleansed and rejuvenated...

Love, love, love you guys!

Apple of my eye

2010-10-28T22:50:00.001-04:00

Carter's Mountain Orchard is literally a hop, skip, and jump from our house. It is so beautiful there. Set on top of the mountain, there are panoramic views of Charlottesville. We spent the morning, a few weekends ago, doing the traditional apple-picking, cider-drinking, donut-wolfing day. The boys loved it. They were so excited about finding the apples on the tree. I think they each ate no less than 2 whole apples. Go fiber!

This day made my heart glad.

Just sayin'

2010-10-27T21:50:00.001-04:00

I think the people that make door knob covers should lose their jobs.

They don't work, people. They don't work.

And how do I know that?

Babes are tucked into their beds, lights off, door shut. No less than 30 seconds later, door opens, little feet pitter-patter downstairs, and scurry around like mice. Take back to bed.

Repeat, with inclusion of stern words.
Repeat, with inclusion of further threats.
Repeat...repeat, repeat.
(And why does this happen when the husband is gone for the evening?)

The last time, I let them go downstairs a bit longer partially out of frustration, and partially out of surrender. When I finally take them up, they are no longer resentful, but proud.

"Come see, Mommy, come see."
Uh oh.

Upon entering their room, to my surprise there was a picnic. Complete with the 9x13 egg casserole for tomorrow's breakfast, yogurt, hot dogs, leftovers from supper.

Seriously, these children are fed throughout the day.
Quite well, in fact.

Tomorrow, installation of refrigerator lock will commence. Hopefully this product will work.

Don't let me down, people. Please, don't let me down.

Be still my heart

2010-10-27T15:27:00.001-04:00

What could be better than 1 incredibly, good-looking guy?

All three of mine together!

Tears tonight

2010-10-25T20:30:00.003-04:00

This evening, I opened my email and saw a message from First Mennonite Church of Denver regarding the tragic death of Chloe Weaver, daughter of Herm and Cindy of Boulder, CO. She was struck riding her bike on Sunday.

I am just so, so sad. This is the second sudden death I've heard of this week (last week, a friend of a friend passed away a week after having her second child due to a pulmonary embolism). Hearing things like this remind me again of the fragility of life. My blog is titled, "Everything Belongs," and at the deepest part of my core, I do trust that God truly, deeply, and completely holds all things together.

But tonight it is harder to believe.

Yet, believe I must.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. ~Romans 8:38-9

To the Weaver family: the Spirit groans on your behalf tonight, for I cannot find the words. You are held in a deep place.

Fleece diapers?

2010-10-14T20:38:00.001-04:00

Self-sufficiency. It's our culture's most admired trait.
It's my faith's worst nightmare.

While running on the treadmill on Tuesday, I was feeling so distant. Distant from peace, from joy, from love, from God...as I thought about why this was, the word "self-sufficiency" kept coming to the surface. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became. My desire to be self-sufficient, to handle it all, to hold it all together on my own accord, was distancing me from relationship. Because I refuse to allow spaces of need in my life, was this preventing grace to enter? To see God at work?

I'm not sure why I tend to revert into this mode time and time again. Do I feel a need to earn/prove my worth? That who I am, and what I offer is somehow not enough?

So as I'm running, feeling convicted of these things, I confess to God that I desire a closer, more reliant relationship.

And then I threw it out there.

Now, normally, I'm not a fleece thrower or anything (i.e. "God if you are really there, make it stop raining."), but I guess I wanted to test my own ability to trust God's provision, so I said,

"I really need some diapers today. Now, I"m not expecting you to throw a box out of the sky or anything, but, even if you could open the space in my incredibly busy day for me to get to Target, along with the mental/emotional capacity to cart the boys with me, that would be great."

There. I said it. And I finished my run.

Tuesdays are busy days. I have to drop off Owen at preschool at 9:00am and then come half-way back to town by 9:20am to be at a bible study that I signed up for at a local congregation. I bring Connor to the study, as childcare is provided.

As I unbuckled Connor out of his car seat in the church parking lot, it hit me. In the rush of leaving the house, I had forgotten to pick up the diaper bag. I scoured the car, because often we leave one in the car, or at least a lone diaper somewhere.

Not this time.
Nada.
Nothing.

Then it hit me again. God will provide the diapers, right? I had to giggle.

Sure enough, as I dropped off Con at his class and told his teacher that I had no diaper bag with me she said, "That's fine, we can provide diapers for you."

Not exactly how I was expecting God to answer, but answer God did.

Fleece or no fleece, my prayer is that I might allow spaces of openness in my life. For by living permeable, I recognize God all around me, in those I meet, in the situations I encounter. For God is here, already acting and working, providing what I need, recognized or not.

God help me to see.

Men and Meat

2010-10-13T19:14:00.006-04:00

Shawn's favorite restaurant in the whole, entire world is Rodizio Grill. Hunks of skewered meat are brought to your table until your gut splits. I like meat, don't get me wrong, but with my family history of high cholesterol, I try to limit the animal protein.

Coming home tonight from a local Mexican restaurant, we are stopped behind a specialty meat truck. A fillet as big as a horse stares back at Shawn, who is practically drooling. Here's our conversation:

"What is it with men and meat? I could probably go vegetarian, if I had to."
"It's men's primal instinct to hunt and eat meat. It would kill me to give up meat."
"Well, it can kill me if I eat too much meat."
"If I am going to die either way, I want to die with meat in my gut. Bury me with a T-Bone, baby."

Lament to a hotdog

2010-10-10T20:05:00.002-04:00

Hot dogs, you never saw it coming.

It was the middle of the night when the bright light awakened you from your slumber, fingers rummaging, looking for a drink. You never had a chance. Hot dogs are his favorite. I'm sorry he didn't just take one. Or two. But three of you...gone. Well, okay, really two and a half. I found the disfigured third, half-way gnawed off under his bed. The bed he should have been sleeping in. All night. But no, new-found freedom of a bed without rails could not contain his midnight excitement from you.

I'm just so sorry.

Budding theologian

2010-09-28T13:37:00.004-04:00

Shawn took Owen to preschool today. On the way over there the song, "Jesus loves the little children," played on the CD.

Owen: "Grandma Springer sings me that song."
Shawn: "That's nice. It is a good song. Your grandmas love you so much.
Do you remember Grandma Gerber?"
Owen: "Yes I do."
Shawn: "You know Owen, I really miss her."
Owen: "Yeah, but Dad, we will see her again."
Shawn: "Oh, how is that?
Owen: "One day God is going to give us a new body then we will all be together in heaven."

You have a good heart, Owen. You are already giving pastoral care! May your faith continue to grow and deepen and inspire you and others.

Jesus said to them, "Let the children come to me. Don't stop them! For the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I assure you, anyone who doesn't have their kind of faith will never get into the kingdom of God. " Then he took the children into his arms and placed his hands on their heads and blessed them."

Mark 10:14-16

The almost unnoticed laugh

2010-09-14T15:46:00.006-04:00

We needed to be out the door this morning no later than 9am to go to Owen's preschool field-trip to the apple orchard. (I think it must be a requirement for preschool curriculum to include at least one of these per fall!) Connor did NOT want to put on his socks and shoes. As I was flying around gathering up the things we needed, I caught Connor on my lap and started the wrestling battle (MMA worthy). I didn't even realize it, until I actually turned to look him in the face, exasperated about what was going on, that I saw this:

I cracked up laughing! Not 1, but 2 pacifiers. (I mean, really, he is pretty addicted, but this is verging on a 12-step program!) We all had a really great laugh about it. Then he sat down, let me put his socks and shoes on without fault.

It got me thinking...how often do I go about my day without really looking into my children's face? That I run around and around, balancing 50,000 duties and tasks, and not really see what they are trying to show me. This just gave me pause to stop and consider...

1. What am I missing when I don't slow down to notice who they are (being/changing) and what they want (from me/show me)?

2. How can laughter and a sense of humor help diffuse even the most difficult situation?

Oh Connor--you are my jokester.

I love you so much.
Forgive me when I don't notice you and what you are trying to show me.

Help me to not get so caught up in the day to day details
that I miss out on the fun of life.

Your eyes truly twinkle.

Go on, say it!

2010-09-13T17:12:00.001-04:00

This weekend was one of those. At the store, I was the mother wrangling her screaming children who wanted M&Ms. At church, I had the wiggly child who did not seem to understand the meaning of "whisper." At the park, I had the kids that cut in the slide line, ran away when called, and pouted when it was time to go home.

Yes, it was one of those.

Last night, on the way home from the park, I started lamenting to Shawn that people probably think our kids are out of control. Wisely, Shawn said, "I don't really care."

That phrase instantly re-oriented me.

Yes, I do sometimes have squirmy kids who know what they want, when they want it and are not afraid to show it. Sometimes I have kids who have difficulty listening to directions and following instructions. But really, who doesn't?

Rather than going down the self-loathing road, I instead turned and told myself that still, despite my children's "sometimes" (and "sometimes more") behavior, I am still a really great mom. And person.

Sometimes I need to remind myself of this.

If you are a mom (or whatever role you are in...worker, dad, grandparent, pastor, etc...) I invite you to say it too, SNL Stuart Smiley style!

For Kent and Miriam--on this dedication Sunday

2010-09-12T21:13:00.001-04:00

My lovely in-laws and sweet niece and nephew

Hannah at St. Thomas
"Therefore I have lent him to the Lord..." 1 Samuel 1:28
In this madonna season I sit surrounded
by plain and not so plainsong,
searching for the one bright note attuned to my sound.
Like Hannah, I brave the eyebrowed skepticism
of presiding priests who rightly suspect
my presence is less pious,
more maternal.
No matter.
I know what I've laid on the altar.
Bone of bone.
Flesh of flesh.
A gift no usher could collect
in plates of silvered velvet.
In this madonna season I am reminded
that birth is just the first separation.
And though each sock is named, each letter numbered,
there's a loss which is never reclaimed.
For each procession moves through time as well as space,
and every turn reveals less child, more power in his face.
Neither maestro nor messiah,
he simply lives and moves and sings.
And in place of angel visits,
I only ask
that in his dark of night
he'll hear
all that is holy call him by name.

Exactly what did Noah do?

2010-09-12T20:25:00.002-04:00

Owen and I were reading a Bible story about Noah and the Ark last night before bed. Half-way through the story, Owen stopped me and asked,

"Did Noah have TV?"
"Um, no."
"Then, what did he do? I bet he was bored in that ark."

I think we might need to lay off the TV watching in our house. Maybe what Owen needs is an animal (or two) to feed?

New life

2010-09-11T20:48:00.001-04:00

A few weeks ago we were sitting down at the table with Chet and Mary, our dear friends who were visiting us from NC, for lunch. Owen pipes up and says he want to say the prayer.

Fine.

"Dear Lord, thank you for Chet and Mary.Thank you for this food. Thank you for Connor. Thank you for Daddy. Thank you for Mommy. And thank you for the baby that is in Mommy's baby. Thank you for new life. Amen."

WHAT?!?!?!

God's faithfulness

2010-09-07T20:14:00.002-04:00

Our family had a worship service together on Sunday morning. I was asked to share about how I've experienced God's faithfulness in this past year or so of my life. Many of you who have read this blog for sometime now, have heard these things (time and time again). But I wanted to copy what I said here in this blog format, so my boys can one day read it.

God has been so faithful. Even now, two months into our transition, God has provided for us time and time again. Not only financially, but physically, mentally, emotionally. The deeper my roots go, the more and more I'm convinced that this Christian walk/journey is not really about me. I'm not central. What does or doesn't happen to me isn't really the point. The point is how I respond to the One who never changes. For me, the continual invitation is to stay committed to the path, despite the journey along the way.

Anyhow, this is for you, Owen and Connor, may you grow to understand the mercy and compassion of God, the One who walks with you always:

God’s faithfulness

A few days before Connor was born, a tune came into my being. Each day when I awoke I heard this song and I knew from within that this was the song of my soon-to-be-born child.

O Connor we love you in every way

Know God loves you too and walks with you always

May love, joy, and peace surround you every day.

Little did I know that this song would come to be a powerful reminder to me of God’s faithfulness and love, an anchor as the storms of life that would soon come.

These last 2 years have been some of the most difficult I have experienced in my life thus far. March of 2009 was a severe low point. With our car accident, when Connor was only 3 months old, coupled with Shawn’s mother’s diagnosis with cancer the same week, both highlighted the fragility of this life. These experienced raised questions with me about the nature of God. In my head I could say and reason and explain how God was good and loving and all-powerful. Going through these difficult times of darkness and death made me look again and reexamine everything.

In regards to the accident, people would say to me, “Oh wow. God must have really been watching over you. Praise God you weren’t hurt any worse.”

Yes, but…but what about the woman who looked nearly dead, thrown into her backseat…or the truck driver whose truck burst into flames and was life-flighted out. Where was God’s protection over them? Who is this God? Can God be trusted? Does God really care? And then that led me down the dark path to ask the questions like Job’s friend, “What did I do? Do I have some hidden sin in my life that is causing these things?”

And yet, underneath these questions and longings for answers…Connor’s song persisted in my conscious and sub-conscious.

And then one day it hit me, just when I needed it the most as I was singing it to him…

“Know God loves you too and walks with you always…”

As I reflected upon these events over these past months and year, I have come to a new place of understanding. I have come to see that really life is just life. And with life, come the good and the bad. I’m not sure there is really much we can do to bring on the good, and avoid the difficult. Life encompasses both fully. However, God did promise that he would always walk with us. This is most fully seen in Jesus, as he came as Emmanuel, meaning, “God with us.”

And I did see God’s active presence in walking with us in people that supported us, encouraged us, loved us through these intense months. Truly their arms were God’s arms holding and surrounding us. I find it ironic that as I look back on our life and how our journey has taken us from Colorado to Indiana, we were in Indiana, surrounded by our family and closest friends at the point in our life that we needed the support the most. I can hardly imagine going through this in a new place with people with whom we had no history with. And so, looking at the big picture of things, God was there, God knew what we needed even before we did.

And then I realized in a new way that the tune of Connor’s song was, “Be Still and Know that I am God.”

Be still and know that I am God.

My invitation in the midst of it all was to trust. To trust that God ultimately is in control. That God holds it all together. And my invitation in the midst of the storm of anxiety, is to simply be. To release the illusion that my need to control my circumstances, as it is really a form of idolatry; or in other words, by my need to worry and be anxious and controlling, I am/was playing God.

Richard Rohrer, a well-known Franiscian priest, using Psalm 46 as a meditative prayer exercise,

Be still and know that I am God.

Be still and know that I am.

Be still and know.

Be still.

Be.

Looking back, God has been faithful. Even in the storm, God surrounded me with what I needed when I needed it, even if I didn’t know it/realize it at the time, and I know that God will continue to as I go forward. My invitation is to let God be God. And to be still and know and God holds it all together. For always and forever.

Thanks be to God.

Family fun

2010-09-07T15:23:00.001-04:00

We just got back from Ohio at my aunt and uncle's farm (Ramseyer Farm) for an extended family reunion. It was lots of fun and we had an excellent time playing together. Owen, esp., had a blast playing with all of his cousins that he doesn't get to see much of anymore. We ate hard, played hard, and slept hard! Here are some pictures from our time together:

The Troyer family

Great grandchildren with Grandma Troyer!

Cousins

Women afternoon...making birdhouses out of gourds!

Coming down the slide

It's the cousin train!

Racing

Jenna and Con at Ramseyer Farms!

Wade and Owen playing in the corn

Unwinding the yo-yo

2010-09-02T21:49:00.001-04:00

The words, "slow down," have come to me often these past few days. I feel like I am always rushing my boys to or from somewhere. Even if we are on a walk, we have a destination to get to (or exercise that could be received as a bi-product).

Come on, come on!
Let's go!
1-2-3...!
Follow me!

Push, prod, wrangle, even drag. This is what my days have feel like as I try to move 2 lively boys around this planet. But again the words, "slow down," convicted me today multiple times.

And so, we went to the Rivanna River, which just happens to be behind our house.

Beautiful, isn't it? The boys L.O.V.E. it here. There are lots of rocks and the water is very shallow and clear. We put our suits on and waded in the warm water, skipped rocks, and looked for frogs. Literally, as I was out there looking around at this gorgeous creation that is just steps from where I live, I felt something unraveling inside of me. With each breath I took, the coil that was tightly wound up within me began to unwind. It was sheer joy, pure abandon. There was no place we needed to be. No schedule to keep. There was nothing that we needed to do, except to be in the moment. It was heaven. I couldn't stop smiling.

It made me think of a yo-yo...life is all about schedules and places to go, things to do. Life gets all wrapped up and wound around the planners and meetings and play dates (as well as the emotional windings of the 'shoulds' & 'oughts.') I mean really, that is a part of life and no matter of yogi training will get you away from that. But you can't really utilize the yo-yo unless you release the string. Until you let it go, the toy really isn't much fun.

And so it is with me. I need to unwind the yo-yo every now and then. Life is too short to just let it rush by.*

[*Afterward: Our zen state here lasted all of 10 minutes before someone told me that they had to go to poop. Lovely. Great timing, right? I guess the setting helped someone else (ahem) "unwind" too.]

Technical difficulties

2010-08-31T22:40:00.001-04:00

Ok, so I'm having some technical difficulties, as you can see. I kept getting this box that said "my photo/video has been deleted by photobucket"every time I ran my cursor over the big picture in the header. So, I put on my thinking cap and went through the following steps.

1. Let's look at the HTML and see if anything looks weird.
Solution: Nothing looked out of place.
2. Let's go the to "Help" button and type my question in.
Solution: Others shared the same concern. Their remedies did not work for me.
3. Let's try to change the template.
Solution: It screwed everything up and I didn't have time to fix it.

Unfortunately, it looks like the problem came from the actual "Cutest Blog on the Block" template that I used before. Now, I'm having problems getting rid of the link (see side bar).

I'm annoyed.
Any suggestions?

*********
Miracle upon miracle!!! I fixed it! I looked up how to install another "Cutest Blog on the Block" template and then worked backwards on how to delete it from my blog! YEAH for me! Goodness it feels good to complete that, esp. after an incredibly frustrating afternoon messing it up! Now...if I could only (chirp) be as successful in finding (chirp) that cricket in our living room...(chirp)

THE experience

2010-08-21T23:28:00.005-04:00

We were up for a family adventure a week ago (yes, as if moving 12 hours half-way across the country wasn't enough for us) and decided to drive another 5.5 hours to the Outer Banks to try our hand at beach camping. You will note that we have ZERO pictures of us actually on the beach, which I swear is just over the hill behind us. In two words that sums up our experience: we survived. We laughed (but really, what was the option? Freak out? Tear my hair out? Turn around and go home?) a lot. A few learnings we gleaned from this adventure. You can read between the lines...

1. Get to your campsite during daylight hours.

2. Make sure you do a trial run of your friend's borrowed tent.

3. Put up said tent when it is dry.

4. Check the weather forecast before you leave.

5. Actually, cancel any camping trips that forecast even slight chance of rain and head for the hotel.

6. Do not think that under any circumstance that it will work to sleep in car in rain with kids.

7. Make sure you have no less than a small country's stash of pacifiers for toddler child that is freaked out by tent's shadows at night in thunderstorm with wind howling.

8. Be one with dirt.

9. And mud.

10. And sand.

11. And bugs.

12. Love the quiet moments of digging in the sand, looking for shells, and eating ice cream watching the sunset.

13. Breathe deeply. Life is good. Really good.

Making memories...isn't that what life is all about?

We got our fill with this one!

Settling in

2010-08-21T21:50:00.004-04:00

We made it. Well, maybe a more descriptive way to explain our transition is "making it." Moving and settling in always takes time, more time that I usually want to give myself. But each day we are here I am finding that things are becoming more familiar and I am really enjoying the perks of living in a slightly larger city. I've also started to get to know a few other women in our congregation and have enjoyed their budding friendships.

People have asked how the boys are doing through the move. Really, they have functioned beautifully, although Owen goes through moments of sheer angst, "I need a friend to play with!" (Usually dramatized when I decline the request to play lions or dinosaurs or Uno for the 15th time of the day). Connor has taken to his pacifier like crack cocaine, but if that's the worst of it, I'll take it.

During this period where Shawn was between positions, we took our first family camping vacation a few weeks ago (see post). Shawn begins work on Monday the 23rd. He is ready. I am ready. I love him dearly, but I think we all need a routine and predictable schedule.

It will take me some time too, honestly, to figure out how this "stay at home" mothering thing works. We need a rhythm. We need rhythm. We need rhythm. Do you see a theme here? Once we get in the groove here, I'm going to see if I can find another mom to do a kid swap with one morning a week (read: Owen gets a friend, and I get a mental break!) and Shawn has offered to take the boys one night a week so I can go out. I think the largest realization I've had thus far in the settling in process is that I don't want to lose myself in this process. I feel like I can quote to you Veggie Tales and Good Night Moon in my sleep, but have no idea that the Gulf Oil Spill happened (ok, a slight exaggeration, but not really). I would like to take that time to read and write. I'm also throwing around the idea of keeping this blog strictly as a family blog (aka Owen/Connor childhood recording) and starting another one of my own reflections of the spirituality of parenting...

A heart of gratitude: A new song emerges

2010-07-08T23:59:00.006-04:00

As I sit here in the quiet, surrounded by boxes upon boxes, my heart is full. Full of gratitude for family and friends that cared so fully for us these last few years. Full of expectation for what comes next in Charlottesville. And mixed into the middle of it all, my heart is full of a quiet emotional struggle that comes in waves. Yet, that is life. And in this moment, I am choosing not to mourn only my losses or cheer for only my gains, for one over the other seems incomplete...instead I offer thanks for what has been and am grateful for opportunities which are to come.

Goshen has really changed me. I feel that the struggles I've been through in these past 2 years (Shawn's mother's cancer and death, our serious car accident...and the attempt to make sense of it all...) have deepened an awareness within myself of who I am and what I have been called to do. It is ironic at how times of darkness forge and widen the depth of a soul.

As I've written in previous posts, the song that has followed me these past few years has been "Be Still And Know." It is interesting, that as I was on a personal retreat last week, I heard a new song emerge deep within, "Alleluia! The Great Storm is Over" by Bob Franke. The chorus line repeats, "Alleluia, the great storm is over, lift up your wings and fly."

Without trying to sound too glib or gloss over things (because by no means is my life perfect and wrapped up with a bow), I do sense the start to a deep healing and a deep peace. For this, I give thanks. I was reminded on my retreat that storms don't last forever, even though they can feel like it when in the midst of it. The sun is beginning to break through the clouds (don't take this personally, people of Northern Indiana!), as I stand looking east towards Virginia.

A new time. A new season. The great storm is over. Lift up your wings and fly. I praise God for these opportunities of not only moving ahead, but also for the storm and how it shaped me, and for the people that held me through the stormy gales.

"Alleluia, the great storm is over, lift up your wings and fly."

And did I mention, the tune?

Appalachian.

Funny, God, funny.

Musician

2010-06-10T13:29:00.003-04:00

This morning at breakfast I asked Owen, "What type of instrument would you want to play?"

He thought...and thought...and thought...

Thinking towards the classics I suggested, "A violin, perhaps?"

I was there...seeing my boy with his white dress shirt, black pants, pint-sized violin, standing in "ready position" for the Twinkle recital. How adorable, right?!

And then he says, "No. I want to play the drums! Yeah!"

With that he runs off and bring back his guitar and microphone and puts on a breakfast show worthy of Lollapalooza for a good 15 minutes.

Adjusting expectations...another reminder that my child is his own, not mine.

Finding treasure

2010-06-02T23:16:00.007-04:00

Life with curious little boys leads to unexpected treasures at every corner.

Today's recap:

1. Straightening the pillows on the couch exposes the "cave" where the mountain lion, tiger, and unicorn live.
2. A drink from my metal water-bottle releases not water, but a mouthful of crayons and colored pencils.
3. A preemptive look into my counter-top mixer before making brownies reveals the missing stash of pacifiers.
4. Pulling back the sheets to straighten my bed this afternoon, showed 4 small snakes and 1 large anaconda.

Oh how I love these boys.

A little perspective

2010-05-26T09:15:00.003-04:00

As I was plodding around the track this morning, which still felt much too hard at this point in our training with the race next weekend (insert large "gulp" here), I realized how I was running. No, I'm not talking about "heal, toe" or keeping my arms poised at perfect 90 degree angles. It was my eyes. They were glued to the track about a foot in front of me. A voice from within said,

"Look around."

And so I did. I saw a beautiful sunrise, lush green trees, singing birds...a start to a beautiful day. It made me think at how often I go through my day with my eyes down, focused only within my little world. How easy it is for me to get caught up in the demands of life, feeling overwhelmed, torn, fragmented, etc...I can so easily lose perspective on the bigger picture. I see the annoyances of my job and forget to see the blessing it has been in providing housing (et. al) for our family during this time of transition; I see the piles of laundry and dishes to be done and forget to see that I am blessed because I actually have people to care for.

A new day.

A new perspective.

Ironic thing...when I got back inside. Shawn said that he and Connor came out and stood on our front steps watching me run for a little bit. They were waving and cheering me on.

I had no clue.

Awake my soul.

Wake up.

Look around and take notice.

For this is a new day

to give thanks,

for blessings that are large and noticeable,

and small hidden ones

just waiting to be uncovered.

Awake my soul.

Wake up.

God help me not to push the snooze button.

Verbal explosion

2010-05-23T20:27:00.004-04:00

Connor will be 18 months this week. It sort of takes my breath away to see how my youngest is growing so quickly. Watching him sprawl across his crib when he sleeps shows me how big he is getting. Watching his independence blossom reminds me that he is becoming his own little person with wants and desires. Within these last 6 weeks, his vocabulary has also just taken off, giving voice to these new wants and desires.

His first sentence?

"I want gum."

Quick thinker

2010-05-23T20:22:00.003-04:00

That is exactly what Owen is. A quick thinker. This afternoon as I was getting lunch ready, he kept coming up behind me and hitting my skirt that I was wearing--making it swish around. Needless to say, it was very annoying.

"Owen, stop it."
Hit.

"Owen, I don't like it when you do that."
Hit.

"Owen, if I have to ask you one more time to stop, you are going to have a time-out."
Hit.

"Owen, let's go...time out. I asked you to quit doing that."

Quick as a wink he said, "But why? I am just practing hitting a pinata."

Good one, Owen...a pinata. Nice try, mister.

Rainbows

2010-05-22T21:35:00.003-04:00

Friday night our family was out and about and we saw the most beautiful rainbow. I mean wide, bright, and close. It was probably hands-down the most stunning rainbow I have ever seen in real-life.

I asked Owen, "Owen, why do we have rainbows?" (Trying to take this moment as a little spiritual nurture...easy transition into the Noah story and all...figured that was the obvious answer, right?)

My 3 year-old pipes up, "Rainbows come from the sunshine going through rain clouds."

Oh yes, of course.
Guess we'll save Noah for another day...

Floundering

2010-05-17T20:43:00.002-04:00

Being a mom is a hard job. Wow. I mean, W.O.W. Some days I just feel like I am floundering between re-directing busy boys, laundry that grows by the nano-second, guilt that builds to the point of Three Mile Island every time I say "just one second..." (and/or insert, 'Dinosaur Train' is on TV), working out/training for my 10k, posting pictures/stories on this blog so the boys will actually have something to read about their childhood because at this rate it's their only hope. I could go on ranting about this, but I'll stop myself.

I realize this is a season. I realize that children are only small once and I need to enjoy this time. I realize that laundry/cleaning can wait. But really...laundry also has to get done so my kids have clothes. Dishes need washing so I can feed hungry mouths. Running has to happen so I'm not puking on the time-keepers shoes (who by-the-way, I hope will still be recording times by the time I cross the finish line).

I guess it's all about balance, right? And breathing. And not taking myself or my role too seriously. I think I always default to the notion that I will "ruin" or "damage" my kids if I don't _____________ (fill in the blank) with/to/for them.

However, thinking more about it here...as I look at the broad strokes of life...my boys will remember how they felt, not about what I did. So, I hope that even in the midst of piles of laundry and dishes, emails and phone calls, fire alarms and finding worms, they sense my deep love for them above these necessities...even though sometimes I will still need to finish the task at hand.

Ok. Thanks.

Do you take checks? $75?
I needed that therapy session...

Equilibrium v. Disequilibrium

2010-04-07T14:17:00.002-04:00

I heard somewhere of a theory of children going through ebbs and flows of equilibrium (settled, easy going, pleasant) v. disequilibrium (where they are more unsettled, push boundaries, more difficult). Usually, these ebbs and flows correspond with a child's whole-birthday and their half-birthday.

I've thought a lot of this theory lately. Owen has been just so....pleasant lately. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised, but I feel like we just fought so many battles together this last fall between potty training, going to bed, listening, etc. And so, it surprised me a few weeks ago when after I put him to bed without a fight for a few days in a row, I reflected back on how it was not only going easier in going to bed, but really, in all aspects. He is more compliant, seeks to please, responds to discipline, etc...and he just turned three and a half!

We haven't done anything else different, really, in our parenting--so it made me start thinking of this equilibrium v. disequilibrium theory again.

Has anyone else felt/seen this in their children?

Big brother

2010-04-07T14:13:00.002-04:00

After baths, I needed to do a few quick things. Owen crawled up on the couch and said,

"Mom, I can read Connor some books...it's what big brothers do."

And sure enough, he sat there and read a few books to Connor. It was so sweet.

He loved it.
Connor loved it.
I loved it.

A trinity of perfection!

Vegetable success...almost

2010-03-23T21:57:00.008-04:00

As a mother, I try my best to keep my kids healthy and active. I try to serve them good, wholesome foods (even though I have been known to bribe them with an M&M or two afterwards)! Needless to say, tonight I tried. Really tried.

Tonight, I made eggplant lasagna (with spinach, not swiss chard), fennel and grapefruit salad* (I had grapefruit, not oranges), and steamed broccoli.

Now you might be thinking, "Gosh, I'm sure this went over real well!"

And actually...it did! From the moment Owen took a bite of his lasagna (granted I didn't tell him it was full of vegetables) he was ohhmm'ing and ahhhh'ing and even gave me a big thumbs up! Then he proceeded to eat all of his unsweetened applesauce and broccoli (4 stalks)! Connor did the same. He ate it all up.

I could not believe it. I was in momentary awe at this miracle.

Then, I looked at my husband. He was gulping hard with eyes pleading, "Why can't you just put meat in this?"

Success...almost.

You know how you sometimes have to offer babies new food multiple times before they decide they like it?

...I have a big 6'2 baby.

32 by 32

2010-03-19T13:33:00.005-04:00

I have always struggled to some extent with my weight all my life. I remember going on my first diet in 6th grade. I've done all the diet rages: liquid, Atkins, Weight Watchers, L.A. Weight Loss. I have lost anywhere between 5-18 pounds at any given time. Reasons? I have wanted a better looking body. I wanted to look good.

But now...

It's not that I don't want to look good anymore, but my priorities have shifted. I will always have stretch marks, and you know what...that is okay. They are my stripes from birthing 2 of the most precious things in my life. (Even though if I am completely honest, I do envy those beautiful preggo pictures that some of my friends have with the most perfect naked bellies.)

But now, I want to be finished losing this extra weight for my boys. So I can see them grow up. Watch them become the people they have been created to be. I want to be healthy for me, more so than what my image looks like in the mirror, I want to reflect health from within.

So, that is why I am announcing my 32 pounds by my 32nd birthday. I have already lost 10.* So even though it will be tight (ok, I'm giving myself through June), with a lot of hard work and determination, it can be done.

It will be the best birthday present for me...
and for those I love.

*I guess I could say that right before giving birth to Connor, I have already lost 54 pounds. That is A LOT! But we still have a little more to go...

Stillness

2010-03-18T21:15:00.004-04:00

One of my favorite times is the moment right before I put my children to bed. I love rocking them, singing to them, and praying over them. But I think even more than that, I love it how still they are. No wiggles, no squirms. I don't get that a lot...ok, never...except in those last faint moments of the day.

It is pure peace.

I think I will hold on longer tonight...I think I need a little more stillness in my life.

Holding on...Letting go

2010-03-01T14:24:00.006-05:00

If you have not yet heard, the Gerber family is again in transition. Yes, you read that last sentence correctly. Transition. Again. Shawn has accepted a fellowship at the University of Virginia Medical Center to do Supervisory training in Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE). A mouthful. In other words, he's pretty much getting his Ph.D. in chaplaincy, which is called "Supervisor," so he can be a professor who teaches/trains/directs CPE units for people to become chaplains. Pretty confusing to explain. Pretty confusing to write down. Translation=moving again.

Now UVA is in Charlottesville, VA (1 hour from Harrisonburg, where we lived for 5 years previously) a beautiful, sunny, mild-weathered part of our country. I am thankful for that. But, I loathe the thought of packing up, saying goodbye, and moving again out of people's hearts and lives. That is the hardest to do. Frankly, I could do the whole physical moving again and again...but it just gets harder to transition from the heart. We've built some very dear relationships here. It will be hard to leave.

People wonder why (including family)--why not just stay put? That would be the easiest and most comfortable for sure. And we could. For sure. Shawn likes his job for the most part, and has done really good things for his department. But, our call is to go. And as much as we love it here...we have to follow the Call. It is hard to understand...but I guess it just all comes down to trust. We have to trust God in this direction, in giving Shawn these gifts and opening doors in which to use them. (And not to sound harsh, but in a way those who still don't fully understand our need to move, will simply just have to trust us...trust that we have listened and that we are trying to live faithfully. There is nothing else we can do.)

"Holding on...letting go," is our Lenten theme this year in church. How this hits home for me. Holding on to God that God knows the plans ahead (even though HUGE questions still loom...where to live, how we will live on such limited $, what will I do, etc...); Letting go of the need to know how exactly it will all come together. Holding on to my family and friends here in Goshen, thankful for the mark they have made in our lives; While at the same time, letting go of them, to allow space to receive the gift of new friendships that will yet be made.

It's a helpful way of thinking about life in transition. It doesn't make it any easier. But at least it gives it some framework.

Ode to Shawn

2010-02-20T19:51:00.003-05:00

To Shawn

I think this sums up my love and affection for Shawn, and for being one of the luckiest gals around to have a husband like him...

We have been contemplating doing a 10k race together for my 32nd birthday. As we were discussing this possibility, I told him, "Shawn, you do realize that I am a slow runner. I mean s.l.o.w. Like, you could probably walk next to me the whole time."

Without missing a beat he says, "Yeah, I know, but I it's about doing it together. And I will run next to you for however long it takes."

Love it. Love you.

How about a month of love?

2010-02-20T12:32:00.003-05:00

Because I had all good intentions to write about some special people I love the week of Valentine's Day...and I only had time to write about Connor...it is only fair that I commission this entire month as my "Month of Love." So, interspersed throughout this month of postings, watch for these top-10 lists.

For Owen:

10. I love your energy. Sometimes you wear me out, but you always light up the room!

9. I love it that you are the negotiator. Nothing is ever set in stone for you, always up for "deals," as you call it. It sometimes causes me great frustration, but in the midst of it all, I realize that you feel like you have a voice and it is worth hearing. You have a good sense of self which other people might call stubborn, but I think it is a great asset. You know who you are and know you have value. A good lesson in self-confidence for sure!

8. I love your humor. Seriously, you crack me up. We have so much fun together, esp. playing with iPhoto!

7. I love it how you love to read and write. You are very smart and would sit for as many books as someone would read you. You also connect what you read to everyday life.

6. I love it your imagination. I never really know who I'm going to meet each day (in your play). Lately, you have been a lion, a bear, a dinosaur...it comes in handy as it is often how I get you to eat your vegetables..."Hey Mr. Pteranodon, here is your wiggly fish (dangle green beans above your mouth)!"

5. I love it how you are social. You are always up to meeting and making new friends. If you don't know someones name, you are not afraid to ask!

4. I love it how you love to cuddle. You have always been this way. You snuggle close and if you come to my bed in the middle of the night, you will always go to my (Mom's) side to slide in.

3. I love it how you just love to talk. Lately, you have been taking me by the hand and saying, "Mom let's go to the couch and talk." Coming from a 3-year old, this just cracks me up. You are able to verbalize your emotions well and I love it that we understand each other. You and me are a lot alike.

2. I love it how you love your brother, Coni. You come up to him and sing him "his song," so quietly and gently in his ear. You guys are going to have some really fun times together...

1. I love it how you are so full of love and want to be apart of our family. You started the tradition of making the "peanut butter sandwich hug." Mom and Dad are the bread (on either side) and you are the peanut butter that gets smushed in-between us. Sometimes Connor is with us too, and you have deemed him the "jelly." Then you put your arms around us all and say, "I love you guys. We are together as a family!"

Owen, know that we will always be together, and that we will always love you. Just as peanut butter is such an integral part of a PB&J, so are you in the place of our family's life. We love you and are so glad God gave you to us!

2010-02-16T20:59:00.000-05:00

A week of love

2010-02-07T14:46:00.004-05:00

This week, prior to Valentine's Day, I want to pay homage to some special people in my life that I love--with a top 10 list of reasons why I love them.

To Connor

10. I love how you sing, "Ma-ma" to me. "Maaaaaaa-ma." "Ma-MA!"

9. I love it how you love music and whenever you hear it, you stop what you are doing and shake your booty!

8. I love how you are serious about giving hugs. You give them so freely and say "hug" as you grab hold of my neck and lay your little head on my shoulder.

7. I love how you love your big brother, Owen. You want to do what he is doing and are not afraid to get in on the action. You guys are best buddies and I hope you will always be close throughout your life. I also love it that Owen started your nickname, "Conni," which your dad and I have expanded to, "Conni-con-con!'

6. I love it that you are not a performer. You have your own mind, as far as what you want to do, when you want to do it. You have a good sense of self, already as a 14-month old!

5. I love it when you point to the same things everyday when I get you up from your crib. You point to the quilt on the wall (that has a car on it) and go, "Brrrmmmm!" And when we walk downstairs and pass the wall-hanging with elephants and birds you make an elephant sound and pinch your fingers together like a bird chirping. You do this every time! You are very aware of your surroundings and like to point things out to me.

4. I love it how you kick your legs when I pick you up. You show such affection and have such a sweet spirit and disposition about you.

3. I love it how you hum when I rock you asleep.

2. I love your crocodile tears. You don't cry very often, but when you do, you have such a classic tragic look--bottom lip sticks out, open-mouth silent cry, huge tears begin to roll out, followed by a wail. Who could resist coming to your aid?!

1. I love it that whenever we are in the car and you need to go to sleep, all I have to do is reach my hand back to hold yours. You hold on tight and within moments are sacked out. It's like you don't want to be alone and need some reassurance that someone is with you. Know I will always be there for you.

Connor, I love it that God chose me to be your Mom. I am so blessed to have you in my life as you bring such joy not only to me but to so many others. May you continue to be a blessing all your life. May God watch over you, and guide you. May you know that you are deeply loved by God, your Mom and Dad and by so many others. May this love help you to deeply love others in this world, as well as cherish yourself as the gift you are. I am deeply honored to be your Mama.

Gross-ness

2010-02-06T10:19:00.002-05:00

If you have a queasy stomach, you might want to skip this Owen anecdote:

This morning, while snuggling up together as a family, attempting to will myself to rise and shine, Owen looks down at my belly button, sticks his finger in it...(and wait)...licks it.

(Do you need to puke yet? I almost did.)

"Yummmmmm! Tastes like chicken!"

Really?!?! I had to laugh, but seriously, Owen, please don't make a habit out of this.

A need for a cup of tea

2010-02-03T14:29:00.003-05:00

As I sit here at my computer, I see an unexpected surprise--a TAZO tea bag, "Calm." It must have been put there by an angel because let me tell you these last 4 hours have been nothing of the sort. In a nutshell:

stopped by a train
icy/snowy road terrain
spilled my coffee all over my car
managing wiggly boys through parking lots, exam rooms, car seats
discovery of another ear infection
Verizon store dysfunction
juggling lunch tray with one hand, holding a squirmy boy with another, giving verbal commands to direct the other, who is telling me that he needs to go pee "NOW!"
playing on the jungle-gym at lunch which was shortened by an "Uh. Oh. Mom, I pooped."
cleaning off poop while 1 year old crawls under bathroom stalls and attempts to play in the toilet water.
lost an earring in the midst of it all
get home late, due to bathroom fiasco, miss a supervision meeting

So, let's get that water going on the stove. I'm going to make myself the biggest cup of tea I can find. I need it.

Vegetarian?

2010-01-27T21:01:00.003-05:00

Tonight Owen was helping me make chicken fajitas for dinner. As I threw the chicken tenderloins in the skillet to saute he asked (as he does whenever we are cooking/eating meat), "Is it dead?"

"Yes, Owen. It is dead."
"What was it?"
"Chicken."

Silence.

Looking very somber he says, "I think the baby misses his Mommy."
"Are you sad about the chicken that died?"
"Yeah..."

Silence.

At this point, I am thinking about how sensitive and traumatic this must be for him. Will he turn out to be a vegetarian to save all the Bambi's of the world?

And then he pipes up...
"I wish I could have shot that chicken."

Or not.