Quiet Love

She is a talker, people! At a few weeks shy of three years old and the third child SHE has something to add to this family. And she’s not holding back, friends! Oh no. She can round-up the children, hand out the game plan and organize this herd to live to its highest potential. Or at least that’s what she thinks. Yes, my little lady is my self-appointed mouthpiece. And while it’s not done in rudeness, though she has her moments of “flare” ;), Ms. Little is anything but quiet around here.

But then comes the night.

And that’s when it happens.

There is no need for words.

Nothing is spoken.

The door just creaks.

She mounts the footboard.

And finds that one spot.

Remember how he was gone for a bit this summer? It was the normal youth events. The normal goodbyes and the week of waiting for his return. Remember how she missed him?

Well I finally caught it “on film”, dear ones.

There in the quiet of the night.

I didn’t want it to get lost in the shuffle of the daily noise.

She loves so deeply, dear ones.

Day and night.

– Her heart is beautiful.

August 20, 2015 0

Beyond Disney World

I read an article this morning during the routine 6am nursing session. The author spoke of casting off the pressures that pinterest, blogs and facebook posts put on being the over-the-top parent to your children. The need to have the most creative, perfect vacation or birthday party or day of homeschool for that matter is ridiculous. It becomes about our status and quite honestly, our pride.

But I found it sad that the author failed to remember times when her parents played with her and her siblings. I get that family dynamics require parents to work from home at times. I get that family dynamics sometimes require both parents to work. I get that the house doesn’t clean itself and dinner doesn’t cook itself. But I still remember my “picking up an extra shift” Daddy staging pillow fights with us. I still remember my “returning to school to get a better job” Mommy baking cookies with us, even inviting in the neighbor kids to share in the flour mixing. Sure there was a the balance of my sister and I walking home from school together and coming to a quiet house where enjoy a premade snack of carrot sticks from the fridge or celery with peanut butter that Mom made before she went to work. And then we’d proceed to entertain ourselves for an hour or so until Mom got off work.

It was a balance. We still went to the children’s museum, climbing the rock climbing wall alongside of Daddy and racing Mom in the timed sprint display. And I remember self-entertaining on Summer days or during Mom’s study sessions.

I strive to be a parent of equal balance. Yes, I expect my little girls to play independently at times. Their imaginative delight should not be tied to me entertaining them. But I miss so much if I don’t don a princess crown regularly, or instigate a pool noodle sword fight. I miss too much if I don’t wrestle them in a game of tickle fight until our sides ache from laughter at our floor frizzed hair. I miss far too much if I don’t use the curb as a balance beam or dance unashamedly to a Disney song with a twirling ribbon.

What do I miss? I miss expressing my value in doing life with them. That their hearts matter. Right where they are. In whatever little imaginative phase they choose to live in in that moment.

I’m not saying this author’s Mom didn’t love her. HA! Not saying that at all. I’m just saying that in the swing back from our culture’s need to make Motherhood about a Mother’s status and pride, don’t forget to dabble in your children’s play regularly. No don’t buy their love with vacations and regular showerings of toys until they have so much stuff that you can’t even play with it all. Materialism creeps in so quickly.

But don’t miss out on the opportunity to just sit and read together and play together. Because just like I tell my little ladies, “we’re the only family we’ve got. So let’s do life together.”

At the end of the day, I want more than the title of Mother, Provider or Caregiver. And it has nothing to do with me. I want to leave a legacy in their hearts that we walked through their childhood together because their worlds mattered so deeply to me that it was worth the sacrifice to make them my dreams.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. They are such a blessing.

December 29, 2014 1

HAPPY 4th BIRTHDAY, ABI!!!

Four Fantastic years ago this little nugget joined our family in the middle of our VBS (Vacation Bible School) week. On Tuesday I was walking the stairs to our third floor< sixth grade classroom and on Wednesday I was induced and we welcomed Abi to the world.

Abi Grace! My goodness how the world would be a sad place without our crazy Abi.

We adore you! You are so unpredictably fun. We never know when you’re going to photobomb a picture or cheese it up.

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You have this life and energy in you that is enviable. Oh and that smile…. it’s always been there… your utter abandonment to joy… with that twinkle in your eyes…

You and your crazy hair (especially first thing in the morning and post-nap).

You and your crazy delight.

You and the randomly and hilariously crazy things you say with such a straight face. My goodness, I’ve added years to my life in laughter. [Like this morning when you asked for breakfast to be “Cookie cereal and a tomato.” “A tomato?!” I responded and you said with the most straight face, “Yeah, I’ve never had that together before.”]

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And those expressions. I swear I’m seeing a glimpse of your teenagehood trapped in your now four year old body. HA!

Abi you are a hoot! You add such spice to life. You are our perfect middle.

And YES, today FINALLY is your birthday. And YES, today we are FINALLY going to Chuck-E-Cheese (how dare we say ‘no’ when you have been harboring pictures you’ve drawn Chuck-E for weeks).

So from your Mommy, Daddy, and the rest of your cohort we wish our crazy, hilarious, dramatic, comedian, rambunctious, irresistible, passionate, delightful, spunky Abi Grace the happiest Fourth Birthday EVER!

– Love you so!

June 16, 2014 0

To My Abi

*** Sometimes I just want to single her out and share words I wish she could fully understand. But even if she can’t understand fully, my heart still needs to say these words.

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My Dearest Abi Grace,

Oh my flighty, strong-willed, adorable little girl. I have watched you spring out of your toddlerhood into a flourishing little girl. Oh you still need the strict boundaries, they help your passions from flying out of reality. You still need someone to come alongside of you and remind you to break out of your bubble of musical numbers and dance breaks. There is a whole world going on that sometimes you miss in exchange for another rendition of a Frozen song. But how I know your heart loves to express the very depths of those climactic moments brought to song. I love that too. It’s fun to get lost in a song.

My dear Abi, I delight in you. The very world we try to break you out of sometimes is the very world Daddy and I love to see you wholeheartedly in. We love your innocence. I love that you have this whole level of imaginative play that encompasses you. You just get so overwhelmed by your world of play that it outpours into an enviable and beautiful joy. You glow sometimes with such beautiful brightness that we just want to be a part of it. My heart can’t stand not being a part of that happiness you have created.

But you know, I think we butt heads the most because I see a little version of my immature self in you. I forget sometimes how long it took to learn the lessons of maturity when it feels like I have to remind you for the hundredth time that day that you are required to share – even though it was a musical number’s prop your toddler sister touched. I forget the hours of me testing my mother when you I am tired from walking through a hard expression moment with you. I forget how intensely that need for justice burned inside of me until I found an outlet, the very outlet you are searching for. I forget how the passion would well up inside of me and I didn’t know how to direct it or guide it so it would just overflow in tears or a jumble of words that never seemed to express what I really felt. But when I remember all that about the constant and gentle shaping of my wild little heart by a wonderful Father, I do remember one face of reason in my life: my mother. How patiently she walked beside me, teaching me the hard lessons, but I knew full well it was because she was invested in my person, the very core of me. And suddenly I see you as the little girl you are, the little girl struggling to learn how to harness the depth of the character God has knitted together within her. What beauty He has created in you. I can’t wait to see how He uses it, should you allow Him.

Abi, you are a boundary tester at heart. It makes me chuckle to see your little “spirited” side. Sure many times it’s wrapped in selfish motives. You haven’t quite learned how big the world is yet. I’m trying to help you see outside of you. But that sight takes a long time to perfect. It takes intentional training. But it’s worth the investment. I see that little rebellion creep into your smirk as you pretend not to hear your name being called. It makes me chuckle. I tried to get away with that too. You will learn. But even more than you learning to obey, I want you to learn the delight in obedience. The desire to feel that closeness of relationship. That harmony and beauty that comes not out of a broken, crushed-down submission, but to see the fruit of obedience’s harmony and then desire to seek it yourself. First thing’s first, “listen and obey” is your least favorite reminder hat tumbles from my lips – not through pursed lips (many times) but with time and maturity you will learn that I am more invested in your person, than I am your fleeting happiness in that particular moment. It’ll take some time and distance for you to learn that. It has taken that for us all.

Abi, you’ll always be my baby. I know you don’t want to hear that right now because you’re trying so hard to be “big”. You’re trying so hard to learn how to flex your wings and discover what you like and express those likes. Yep, I’m going to correct you. Sometimes those expressions are rooted in greed. And sometimes it’s merely the need to learn how to appropriately communicate your preference without bucking authority. Yeah, that one takes time and practice too. But I want you to feel safe to try. I want you to feel the love and trust that encourage you to make mistakes, even big ones, and then be able to learn from them. It’s a hard, vulnerable place to be to truly learn from another. It’s a pride-crushing blow sometimes. I want you to feel it’s worth the risk. And I want you to hear our cheering squad at your efforts.

My little Abi girl, you are beautiful. And I want you to know I have been and will always fight for you. Sometimes you won’t see it. Sometimes it’ll be behind the scenes. It’s those little conversations I have with others who desire your greatest welfare, where I share some secrets on how to encourage your obedience. 😉 Sometimes it’s holding out my arms to your running tears, and holding you through your explosion of injustice and your hurt. And sometimes its watching you make bumps and bruises and then helping you to learn how to repair relationships. It’s a delicate balance, baby, but I will always fight for you… the best and truest form of you that you can be. In your flaws and your delights…. you are a wonderful investment. Soar, baby!

I just wanted to take a moment to write you a letter. I know sometimes you can feel lost in the business of a bunch of sisters, or the business of being a part of a ministry family. I know sometimes you just want some extra snuggle time. You just want Daddy or my full attention. And we try to give it to you. I try to hear your heart, even when it comes out a little jumbled and sin-pricked. You’ve never been “just the middle” to me. I still see the baby I carried around on my hip for over a year because you just needed that security. You are worth every adjustment to what I thought parenting was and is. You are worth the 4 a.m. wake-ups when I just can’t stop thinking about how to teach you a particular lesson. You are worth the extra time it takes to focus in on intentionally teaching you healthy boundaries in a way that you can understand. You are worth the moments of inconvenience when I have to apologize for snapping at you because I was focused more on a behavior than a life lesson. You are my one. My only. My Abi Grace. I love you, Abinov. My Abean-o. I love you so much that I make up little nicknames to catch your attention so you know that you’re on my mind. And just to make you smile.

I am so thankful to get the chance to be your Mommy.

Love you so, sweet girl.

Love you so.

From the deep,

Your Mommy

June 12, 2014 0

The Beginning of the Back-Story

Growing up I didn’t really give much thought to the genders of the kids I wanted to have. I started out wanting to have 16 of them at about age 3 or 4 years old. Then the number dropped to 12 for a while going through elementary school and fell into the back burner of Jr. High and High School’s shadows. In college I knew I wanted to have a good number of kids. I have always adored them and find it quite natural to be in their world. I surrounded myself with kids growing up from helping Moms to play in the other room with their kiddos so they could accomplish tasks independent of kid needs when I was too young to babysit at 9 and 10 years old to babysitting, nannying, going on a few vacations with families and even running church nurseries.

When the idea of a career field came into my world, I naturally gravitated toward an early childhood education teacher. I had helped in teaching environments from the home to Vacation Bible School to even a few tutoring environments. I just love kids. They’re my normal.

In college my early childhood education window opened as God opened my worldview to His heart for “the least of these”. It began in the form of foster care, one branch of forgotten children. Suddenly He taught me how teaching goes so far beyond the classroom and even the very basics of worth, love, and trust need to be taught before a child can move on to enjoying and asserting themselves in Math or Reading or being vulnerable in a challenging subject. I suddenly had a heart change, resulting in a change of my major to Social Work. I began t see my fringe kids in the daycare in which I worked in a totally different light. No, not every case is a social work case, but my eyes were opened to those foster children coming through my afternoon Kindergarten classroom that were “a little more rough around the edges”. I enjoyed being a “secret weapon” substituting in more challenging classrooms. “Who’s name do I need to know?” I would ask the lead teacher of the classroom and then try not to single those kids out for poor behavior problems, but provide structure, consistency and special love to those children. It was cool to see their behaviors change a bit. Nope, I’m no miracle worker, but loving structure goes a very long way in a child’s chaos.

When I met my husband he was one of seven kids, now one of eight with two adopted siblings. He ate, slept and breathed kids, bring the second in the pecking order. Granted, he was one of those kids for the longest, but with parents who consistently ministered to children through foster care since almost as far back as he can remember, his heart and arms were just open. That’s one of the things that drew me to him. See, some can call that being a “family person” but I believe God made my “family man” into so much more through walking with others in their deep hurts and struggles. Barb and Rodger, my in-laws, did a wonderful job of sheltering their children’s innocence while also coming alongside of these really hurt little children in the foster care system. They protected their own blessing while also taking on some pretty tough cases. Their family motto? Christ is more than enough. And that was tested. And it was challenging. And they lost a lot of sleep. And walked in a lot of hard pairs of shoes. And they still have no idea of the impact they had in some of the children’s lives that came through their home for the 18+ years of foster care their family offered.

I joked with Matt that I wanted to have eight kids of our own when we were dating and engaged. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head a few times when he realized I kept repeating the same number… and it wasn’t a joke. He reminded me of how nice four sounded. Hehe. I told my friend and sis-in-law, Ellen, one time that I planned on starting at 8 so we could compromise at 6 kids. We both laughed since Ellen kept talking about a dozen children to her, at the time, new husband. Poor Ron and Matt. Our providers. They must have lost some serious sleep over the thought of feeding so many little mouths on a single salary – you know, since Ellen and I had plans of being stay at home moms. Don’t we sound awful? Hehe.

I worked as a foster care and independent living (transition program from foster care for older teens) case manager as my internship and for a year of my launching board off of college. I wanted to have a baby, but God wanted me to raise a few other kids first. When my car died from all the case management driving, I knew I couldn’t sustain at case management 40+ minutes from the office. The hours were long many days. Too long to start a family. Matt was doing his internship for school. I missed seeing him. It was our first year of marriage.

I switched to individual and group therapy at a program designed for children who had failed out of multiple preschool/daycare settings due to behaviors. We saw every kind of case there from the lack of parenting to the product of broken homes to foster care cases. I had chairs thrown at me, was called everything under the sun, and had so many scratch marks and even a few bite marks while being spit on. Some of these kids entered our program with utter wild in their eyes. They had all the authority. Many of their parents had given up or they had failed out of multiple, multiple foster homes… and they were only 4. I had the group kids who were older. 4 years old until 6 years old when they aged out of our program. Some of the things these kids had been through would bring even the hardest heart to tears. Such innocence stripped. And all was left was a hurt, hurt frail child who hid behind aggression.

And there in that daily environment, God blessed us with our first child.

(Continue on to: The Continuation of the Back-Story)

May 19, 2014 1

Eden Update

I’m measuring right at 30 weeks pregnant from today’s doc appt.

Eden, on the other hand, is measuring 2 weeks ahead at 32 weeks, putting us in the 78%. While she should be just barely over 3 lbs this week, she’s measuring over 4 lbs (a large Jicama – which is some kind of an ugly veggie) of healthy baby girl.

We got another peek at her hair sticking off the back of her head and today she was folded in half into a yoga position with her feet up by her head. While she’s measuring big, its all belly so there’s hope for a less large head – which makes this delivering Mommy happy. 😉

While I’m technically 10 weeks away from her due date, after talking with the doc we’re at a 9 week countdown.

Now the question remains: will she be born at induction date or will her size cause me to go into earlier labor?

Only time will tell.

I honestly just want her staying in there until she’s “fully baked” before snuggling our newest sweetness.

And then there’s the whole Matt being gone in Haiti when I turn 37 weeks and returning from Haiti a day or so prior to my 38th week. This fourth baby might very well come with some timing surprises. 😉

– Thank you God for continuing to knit Eden Rose together into the healthy, thriving little one we’ve been blessed to peek at.

– This pregnancy still feels so surreal even though I’m 9 weeks out. I’ve been so blessed to have a gentler go around this time.

Here’s some cute little 3D Eden Rose feet from today. =)

May 5, 2014 0

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