That Beautiful Adventure in Her Eyes

I remember babysitting a lot while in high school. My church had a lot of young families, providing a lot of babysitting opportunities. I remember the fun times, endless candyland games, and various obstacle courses designed in the hours of entertainment. I also remember the first time I met families, that opportunity to smooth over the introductions and read a child quickly to figure out what kind of challenges presented themselves once the parents waved goodbye.

I had nearly completed the fall transfer of clothing. The girls were growing again (funny how that always happens) and the last of the cooler weather clothes needed to make their way into the closets from the boxes. We have been blessed with hand-me-downs from a few generous families and thrift-store loving little ladies from our church. My girls are thrilled with anything new to them.

Maybe it was the way I did her hair yesterday, in her two Laura Ingalls Wilder braids. Or maybe it was the last of the “toddler” style clothing exiting her wardrobe. Or maybe it was her laying on the floor this morning repeating a book for memory, “reading” to her sister. Or maybe it’s in the way she always seems to find an imaginary wayward chick to nurture back to health. Or maybe it was seeing my baby Rachael in Hannah’s eyes.

But suddenly I realized that she is a little girl. The toddler has long gone, never to return. She is one of those little girls I used to love to babysit. That little girl I spent a summer nannying, studying and investing in. She’s like one of those babysitting kids I couldn’t wait to get to watch, only I get to keep her for a little while longer.

She’s on the edge of schooling. Growing. Changing. Independently blooming. And her little browns remind me of the ones I see in old photographs of a small, auburn haired adventurer who used to care for imaginary forest creatures whom had lost their way and needed a mother.

I always thought she looked a little like me. When Abi came along it sealed the deal. Abi is her Daddy. Rachael is a little variation of me. But it’s so odd and amazing and tear-provoking all in one to watch her grow into my most distant childhood memories.

She is brilliant and curious and wild and gentle all in one. She is independent and just wanting to be held all at the same time.

And while three little ones encourages my day to be filled with wiping noses, picking up stray toys, dishes (if I can get to them), and laundry and more laundry, there is something about that smile of her’s. That smirk of delight mixed with a little wild excitement. That smile of contentment and joy in discovering something new. That light in her eyes… she’s just so alive. And I want nothing more than to drink it all in, living in the imaginary world of rescued chicks, fairy cottages, and ballerina concerts.

I adore her. She is such an utter delight.

My Rachael.ย 

– thankful and blessed.

Still on the Playlist

I had a conversation with a dear friend, …oh it must have been a few weeks ago by now. The girls were all sleeping, my friend’s kids were knocked out as well, and we enjoyed the quiet households giving us the opportunity to share in each others’ lives.

I don’t even remember quite how we got onto the subject, but we blasted back to the very beginning of our marriages. I enjoyed learning about my dear friend’s transition from her Mother’s house to making a home of her own with her husband. And it was fun to take a walk down memory lane with her back to the old one-bedroom apartment that Matt and I stepped foot in after saying our ‘I do’s.

Well after the phone conversation ended, the memories swirled.

That broken bathtub drain clogged with a washcloth so I could do the mounds of dishes piled up, evidence of no dishwasher and a cutting-board sized counter space. Two full, full-time workers and then school and then internship. The late night hours waiting for Matt to return resulting in me falling asleep on the couch.

When we got married it was not in ignorance. We had seen divorces have their affects on families and kids. We were blessed to have also seen marriages, our parents, held together by Christ and prayer. We knew the statistical odds. We knew it’d be work. And we knew it’d be worth it.

But never in my wildest dreams could I ever have imagined it’d be this good.

Here 5 years later, rocking my youngest of three daughters, the praise of our Lord pours from my heart. Thanks be to the God of firm foundations. Thanks be to the God of uniting hearts. Thanks be to the God of hope and forgiveness. Thanks be to the God who has built our marriage on Him and Him alone.

I remember my roommate and best friend at the time putting together our wedding slideshow. She gathered together the old baby pictures of Matt and I, infusing two separate stories and sharing the years of memories captured in the hearts of our friends and families in attendance. She asked me to pick the background music. A few songs came to my mind that she easily found on my music playlist. Then by some near mistake, she came across the song. The song that captured the very heart of the commitment we were offering each other. “We Build” by Nicole Nordeman.

I wanted to share this song with you, but could only find it in terms of a past flood video so please enjoy the words and ignore the pictures for the purpose of this blog. ๐Ÿ˜‰

“It’s bigger than we thought
It’s taller than it ought to be
This pile of rubble and ruins
The neighbors must talk
It’s the worst yard on the block
Just branches and boards where walls stood
Did it seem to you
Like the storm just knew
We weren’t quite finished with the roof
When it started?
So we build
We build
We clear away what was and make room for what will be
If you hold the nails, I’ll take the hammer
I’ll hold it still, if you’ll climb the ladder
If you will, then I will, build
On any given day
We could simply walk away
And let someone else hold the pieces
The lie that we tell
Says it’s better somewhere else
As if love flies south when it freezes
What I’m trying to say
In some clumsy way
Is that it’s you and only you for always
So we build
We build
We clear away what was and make room for what will be
If you hold the nails, I’ll take the hammer
I’ll hold it still, if you’ll climb the ladder
If you will, then I will, build
What I’m trying to say
In some clumsy way
Is that its you and only you, not just for now, not just today
But its you and only you for always
So If you hold the nails, I’ll take the hammer
I’ll hold it still, if you’ll climb the ladder
If you will, then I will, build

“We Build” speaks of emerging from the tragic moments, the tougher trials and challenges and choosing to build. Matt and I don’t have a pessimistic view of our marriage, but we do know there will always be trials and challenges and circumstances outside of our ability to rise from.

But instead of accepting the lie that “it’s better somewhere else” we must choose to build… together.

It’s that security of choosing the mindset that “it’s you and only you, for always”. When you start there the choice is to build now or have a harder time building later. But not building is not a choice.

Matthew, I love building beside you and with you. I am blessed beyond measure at the graciousness you extend to me through Christ. Thank you for teaching me with a humble heart how to build. Thank you, Lord, for breathing your truth into our marriage. Please, Lord, help us and hold us together because it’s so easy to be “prone to wander” when we look to ourselves to keep this marriage healthy.

I wish I could convey to you the reassurance I see in his eyes. It’s something that just can’t be put into words unless you have felt that kind of commitment. So many walk into relationships with a “hope this works out” mentality. And I must tell you that not one day of our marriage have I ever, nor will I ever, fear Matthew leaving me for “something else” or “someone else.”

So many times this confidence has been laughed at as naivety or immaturity. But I find it quite the opposite. I know that Matt’s soul is the Lord’s. His commitment to me is through his level of commitment to Jesus. For it is through Christ that he is even able to offer me a lifelong commitment. And just as it is a daily denying of self for the cause of Christ, Matt has chosen to daily work on our marriage. (And I likewise).

Sometimes daily working on our marriage looks like ignoring my flaws. Sometimes it looks like grace. Sometimes it looks like holding me accountable… even when I don’t want to hear it. Sometimes it looks like sitting next to me, holding my hand and not asking me to talk. But it always looks like, no matter what the day has held for us, it always looks like snuggling each other before we fall asleep.

See, no matter how flawed and frustrated and annoyed and selfish we have been, we have chosen our “for always” here on earth to be together. It’s not a commitment that can be changed by circumstance. It was decided once … until death. And it’s that commitment that keeps us coming back to apologize. We can joke, because otherwise the next 90 years are going to be mighty quiet and frustrating if we don’t apologize now. ๐Ÿ˜‰

It’s hard for me to put into words. It’s hard for me to convey my appreciation, adoration and confidence in my husband’s heart. He chose our marriage in his mind. And he is one stubborn man. ๐Ÿ˜‰

And I’m so blessed… so very blessed to build with him… no matter what.

– we build.

When the Answer is ‘No’

I’m not even sure where to start these swirling thoughts. It’s a lot to still take in.

I got a phone call a few months ago and we all celebrated quietly. We didn’t want to the news to slip out, but we were joyful at the life conceived after a hard run.

My dear sister in law had already lost three, two in a row and the most recent’s surgery still fresh on our minds. And then the news came. And we rejoiced quietly, so as not to announce anything before passing that first trimester window.

Things were trucking along, with understandable conversations of laying anxiety at Christ’s feet. For those of you whom have ever miscarried, you know that passing the last miscarriage date feels more secure… it’s like a deep breath can happen more freely.

And with the close of the first trimester, we were excited to see our prayers being answered favorably. Thanks be to the Giver of life who knits our very fragile selves together in the dark, quiet comforts of our Moms.

Then all at once she felt something was wrong. She told me of the multiple attempts from nurses and even the doctor to find little one’s heartbeat. I remembered that drop in the pit of my stomach when the same thing happened to me. She knew the baby was gone.

With another surgery scheduled, the healing phase begins again. Only this time with the hurt of having more children in heaven than here. We’re left with the ‘why’s to lay at His feet. And why four? The hurts. And the questions that we fight to keep from eating away at our sanity. Faithย  is not shaken, but hurt is inevitable. Loss. The grief season.

So what are you supposed to do when the answer is ‘no’?

Again.

You hug each other
and hold each other
you come over to distract
and bring dinner
You pass off the baby when she needs snuggle therapy
And keep the baby quiet when she needs to forget
You listen
and listen
and listen some more

You hurt with her hurts
And cry with her crying
And you laugh with her laughs
because life still has joy
You go for walks
and drives
and celebrate what He has given her
with an arm around her at what has been taken away

And you both stand in the hope of Christ
a Hope that heals the soul

a Hope that breathes peace into the mind
and calm into the depths of the pain

a Hope that offers Life
when death seems to surround us

He is that Hope
and that Perfect friend

And so you just pray Him over her

because He is everything she could ever need…

… to heal.

… and to thrive through this storm.

– Love her so.

– to God be the glory. Forever. And Ever.

Maybe…

Maybe it’s in pulling out the winter blankets for the girls’ beds.

Maybe it’s in realizing how much Rachael has learned in last year’s homeschooling as I flip through this year’s homeschooling outline.

Maybe it’s in the realization that Abi no longer fits pants I got out last month.

Maybe it’s in hearing her add “certainly” and “presumably” to her 3 year old vocabulary.

Maybe it’s in watching Hannah’s eyes now open daily and soaking in her world.

Maybe it’s in overhearing Abi use words, “it’s ridiculous!” instead of screaming every time she’s frustrated (evidence of growing self-control).

Maybe it’s in the realization that Rachael will be 4 years old in just a few months.

Maybe it’s in noticing Abi’s face elongating and planning for potty training in just a few weeks.

Maybe it’s in the realization that Hannah’s 5 weeks old already.

Maybe it’s in contemplating bunking the beds after Rachael’s birthday.

Maybe it’s in looking into the “new kid room” and wondering who will be joining us
… and when
… and feeling like it is so soon
… and that I need to redress the beds in there sooner than later.

Maybe it’s a combination of all these things, but today they all just feel so big… so old… so “growing like weeds”.

Rubbing my hand through Hannah’s soft red-tinted hair takes me back to Rachael’s newness
ย … like it was just yesterday.

And then I see her, Ms. Long-legs, dancing down the hallway with Abi squealing and chasing her. Free and so alive.

– In the blink of an eye…


– Snuggling a little extra today.

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