Heed

When school was closed for MLK Day, we'd just been away without the kids for five days.  A nice winter's day inside was all we had planned.  Then a knock at the door.  More than a year had passed since a visit from LT, our old neighbor.  He wanted a ride into the next town and thought he'd try us.  He didn't need to get there fast, so he stayed for a while.  Over the next couple of hours, we ate together, drank tea and coffee, prayed, talked theology and played with the kids. 

I felt Grace move so freely that morning.  (Oh, when we let it do so!)  The kids were in and out of conversation and back and forth in play.  Cooking, clean-up and dishes just flowed along with the chatter and jokes and childhood stories.  Nothing out of place.  More than once in recent days had the bunch of us remarked how we'd missed LT.  He fit back in like we'd seen him just yesterday, like he's one of the family. 

I was bent down, getting some paper for A when she whispered to me in deep satisfaction, "I knew he was coming.  I thought he was coming, and he came."  I understood completely.  It happens to me and has for as long as I remember.  With joy, I whispered back something about connection, about the Spirit knowing her heart and speaking to her inside.  She smiled wide.

Not much later, LT was talking when I re-entered the kitchen.  He was saying that he'd started out that morning prepared to scrounge up change along the train tracks and out of shopping carts as he's always done.  "Something told me to stop," he noted his uncertainty.  He confessed he kept on course, ignoring it, but it kept on until pointing him to us.  He didn't want to come, not to ask for help.  But he couldn't shake it.  "I don't know what it was..." he wondered but spoke with jittery gladness for heeding.

You bet I let him know about A's encounter!  Plus I shared a thought on the Voice inside him, too.  I've no doubt both of them sensed that pull at precisely the same time that morning.  What untold prayers were answered that day, I can and do imagine.

ch-ch-changes

now we are six, no longer five. 

we're a different family than we were last month.  

all of a sudden, 

kenn and i became parents to 

a newborn

a kindergartner

a three-year old

&

a fifth-grader

this newest change of seasons explains some things, 

like the exhaustion kenn feels or how affected i am with my continued need to be still and heal.  

yet it's just a season, 

and these are days that will practically fly away from us.  

these are the days, the moments i could miss 

and one day 

i probably will. 

before school began this week, we took some time to list 

the good memories we have from our summer together.  

these times change us.  

what a great way 

to welcome the change 

while celebrating what's been.  

today i'd like to celebrate what is, 

before another change begs a welcome.

mercy, mercy!

we're waiting!

Baby Boy was due last week.  and there have been plenty of signs that he's on his way.  but when? we ask.  everyone asks.  though the number of weeks to wait has been the same as any other pregnancy, having spent one third of this one on bed rest has made the waiting seem much longer.  after reaching full term, i felt i had reached the goal. time for the prize, right?

instead, Baby is still cozy where he is.  and i get acting like i'm playing the game of mercy.  you know it, it's that kids game. grabbing your opponent's hand, you interlock fingers and push back as he is pushing on yours to try to inflict discomfort, even pain, on one another.  you both push until one of you gives up, crying, "mercy!"

i'm not playing a game with God, who does ultimately decide when this baby will arrive.  he isn't keeping me hanging on to see how much i can handle, trying to torture me and win.  and pleading with him for my way (or whining and pouting to others or even trying all the natural inducers i can) will not push him to answer, "okay, okay, i give in! you'll deliver today."

instead, here's the hand of mercy that has held me.  Mercy has...


preserved this pregnancy
sustained my health and our baby's
allowed a season of beautiful rest 
forgiven my ugly moments and days
provided strength when we were weak
brought help from those around us
produced fruit from our faithfulness
bestowed an excellent family summer
given kenn & the kids lots of quality time
grown kenn as a dad and husband
grown me as a mom and wife
poured rain on the earth and relief from heat
encouraged through the cheers of facebook friends
supplied our need with surprise donations
granted me another day

i've been answered with this kind of mercy over and again.  so i am striving to believe - and striving does involve struggle - that Mercy will carry me through the next hours (or days!) of waiting for our Boy...

[not] just another picnic

last monday's holiday meant time for my uncle's cookout with extended family.  shade and bloom and vegetable gardens make an oasis of a yard.  fish ponds, a tree-hung hammock, and a big tire to twirl upon.  familiar faces of every age reunite and dip into the eats upon eats stretched out on tables.  how about a game of horseshoes or a swim? 

it can be tempting to half-heartedly join the ritual, though.  to think it's just another year, another family picnic, believing nothing has changed.  to sit with one another neglecting the new is to deny that life is always birthing.  maybe it takes some effort of forethought (or self-denial) to willingly engage others but it is no easier to play absent.

it takes work to choose stuck.  the labor of grumbling is grueling.  i choose participation instead.

one thing to herald this year is new kin within!  there's the little one nearly bursting from me and there's my sister and cousin carrying their first children.  we savor these precious beginnings.  four of us, sister-cousins, sit on pool's edge.  we dangle feet as we consider the wonders and absurdities of parenthood.  we watch our relatives at play.  we welcome whatever else conversation may bring.  i even learn things i did not know i didn't know about these beloveds.

it is thankfulness to recall how far and deep our family ties do stretch, to know that time cannot break them.  yet being sure to keep on sharing the steps and stumbles of today invites these dear ones into one's now.  that's how the bond lengthens.  strengthens.

and more of the timeless is born on a Fourth of July.

* * * * * * *

linking this post to:

practice thanks & wash the glass

i finished reading my eighth or ninth book of this bed rest season: one thousand gifts.  (i do recommend.)  ann voskamp writes of the surprising and profound soul change that happened as she set out to record thanks, numbering one thousand.  somewhere in the middle of reading it, i began my own list, wanting to practice gratitude with a slightly different intentionality.  and to see what God may do.

when i realized bed rest would continue long past the first two weeks, one thing i moped over internally was missing out on gardening.  no planting of new perennials to fill out my flower beds.  no weeding to beautify.  no cheering up the front "yard" that practically sits on the sidewalk and greets every passerby.  even buying a few hanging plants for the porch seemed one thing too many for us to handle.

after two months on rest, i now have a better idea of my limitations.  i can use the stairs, a handful of times per day.  i can make a quick meal or bake an easy treat.  if i don't stand for the duration.  i can go on an errand, if there's an automatic cart to ride.  i can attend a social event, if there's guarantee of relaxation and shelter from the heat.  each of these requires a degree of help from someone else, and no one day can be filled with them.

if i am in a chair, i can even water my plants outside! though i had to let go of my first hopes for the yard, it's not hard to find other ways to enjoy it. and be thankful. this is the key to living fully, at all times, as voskamp teaches through personal story and poetic flare.  here's one picture she paints of this verbalizing of thanks:

      "i speak the unseen into seeing . . .  all the world is window. no material is opaque. if we are willing to see - people, circumstances, situations, relationships - all is transparent.  all of this globe is but glass to God." (emphasis mine)

      
and thanksgiving washes the glass, she says. thanksgiving washes the glass.

so i join countless others who have kept or are keeping gratitude journals and lists of blessings. moment to moment, they choose to set their eyes on the Giver and find more life.

i end with a few of the thanks from my yard:

126. newly molted cicada

 128. morning glories appearing

129. sun on my back

132. smile of girl on bike

181. low humidity

184. low, long reach of the elm over me
 218. a sandbox

219. imagination at work in the Littles

221. how play can be work and work can be play

unwonted rest

our family has lived as missionaries for 8 years, and last year kenn and i were about to break.  we've had too few vacations or regular respites from a work that is weighty and really doesn't end.  kenn is only employed part-time (with a salary that we are fully responsible for raising), but the actual hours and energy he gives far exceed that part-time status to equal a full-time job. and then some.

meager finances were the reason (or excuse) for often skipping vacations and neglecting to take longer personal retreats.  we're quite aware of how essential it is to live well in order to serve others well.  so despite facing the greatest financial strain we'd yet known, we pledged to add substantial rest into our yearly calendar.  God knows every need and we'd trust each one would be met.  after making that decision, we were overwhelmed with gifts!  suddenly we had an abundance of food, all our bills were paid without compromising other areas of our budget, and we actually had the chance to get away over the holidays! 

then we declared january a mini-sabbatical.  the Spirit quickly sealed in me the need to enter a season of rest, a deeper rest than i'd ever sought.  not knowing what was in store, i sensed it would continue even after our sabbatical ended.  (though i certainly didn't anticipate being ordered on bed rest a couple of months later!)  this journey for me has come to represent a metamorphosis that began years ago and, by God's sweet mercy, will carry on my whole life long.

another commitment that kenn and i made was to take a family vacation before baby number four arrives in august.  it was scheduled for this month after school gets out.  arranged by a dear friend, we'd be enjoying a week at a lake house in the mountains - for FREE.  we've had to cancel since my activity remains restricted, and i have been holding in my disappointment with a bit of angst flashing in and out of my mind.  don't we need this get-away? what can we do instead? will the kids feel gypped? i do. 

still, my thoughts are more occupied with realities like all the help we've been receiving.  we're brought a couple meals a week that usually amount to double that.  friends and acquaintances are visiting who typically don't, and others phone or email to check in.  though shut in most days, i don't feel isolated or lonely.  though exhausted most days, kenn perseveres with a heart that's content.  we (mostly kenn) have extra space for neighbors.  a few have stopped by more regularly and we've had opportunity to meet unexpected needs and to pass on what's been given to us.  a couple of kids from our block have shared in our family times of prayer and Bible reading.  our four-year-old gets to have daddy go on field trips and our youngest has a growing list of regular play dates at others' homes.  kenn takes the kids on excursions without feeling pulled in other directions or overwhelmed with work that's piling up. . .

are you getting the picture?  i just saw it this afternoon.  since kenn's position is part-time and the summer brings a lull in campus activity, he was permitted and encouraged by his supervisor to cut out whatever is needed to take care of us at home.  so he has done so.  this glitch in our plans - my limitations and kenn's total switch in roles - has literally created a break for us.  with more time to have fun together and to breathe in all of these gifts, we're already experiencing a sort of recess before summer's even begun!

momentarily, i had forgotten that all of this life of following Jesus is unconventional, right on down to vacations.

today i recognized God providing yet another alternate way.  he always does, when we are ready to see and to receive!

perspectives

after completing the required two weeks on bed rest, my symptoms returned.  as i have told people repeatedly, such trouble comes any time i pick up the pace, even slightly.  i remain on moderate bed rest and kenn and i are preparing for me to spend the remainder of the pregnancy this way.  i am very happy to be at 28 weeks already, but it still leaves a lot of time left in these challenging circumstances.  so much of the "usual" has to be adjusted.  we need new kinds of strength for these days.  and there's a lot that we have to give up.

it is helpful to not only know that others have gone through this but to hear their own stories.  i found a couple of books online where i have only read a few pages, and i have read a bit of online journals telling individuals' experiences with bed rest in pregnancy, and all of these have brought comfort.  what has also been valuable is taking inventory of all that i can celebrate now.  thanksgiving.

today i cried when i read from one blogger's notes how happy she was that her major complications in pregnancy happened during her third and not her first pregnancy.  if circumstances were reversed, she believes she may not have braved having more children.  it was a perspective that i hadn't considered for myself.  i had certainly considered how much harder it is this time around, being eleven years older with a body "altered" by two other pregnancies and having three children to care for.  what would my stance on four babies have been if my first pregnancy wasn't so completely serene? ah, perspective!  i cannot know the full measure of purpose for this season we're in nor the perfection of the timing of it all, but gratitude enables me to imagine.

here are a few things i've been thankful for today:

another baby who's life is already a blessing
water
a husband who listens well and selflessly serves
a husband who deeply engages his children
the ability to write
a laptop
surprise rainshowers
revelation
healthy sugar levels
a new neighbor
a mom who is lightening the housework load
clean clothes
grace
a comfortable chair and a cozy bed
the power of story
three pregnancies without bed rest
three phenomenal children
God's plans to use me to bless others
green leaves that fill the view from my window
the care of friends
an assuring conversation
a prayer answered
the Psalms
good food in the cabinets and fridge

let my heart sing, my soul dance!

while i listened to Third Circle yesterday, one song hit me right where i am.  i must have left the song on repeat eight times. and though the lyrics ring out promise and the music is jubilant and light, i wept. and wept. every time it played, i wept.

there is plenty to mourn in this earthen existence, and a few of my past and present sorrows surfaced while the song washed through me. but it was the Answer to those sadnesses that made me cry so profusely. consider the verse: 

Lord, I cried out, I cried out to You

You answered me in Your mercy

Your anger was fleeting

And now I will dance in your favor all my life

my heart has been nurtured in the fold of God's people for more than three decades, yet it took a long time before i began to understand this standing that i have, this favor.  it's an unending favor before God only because of the sacrificial love of Jesus.  only Jesus.  when we are faced with pain or grief and our crying out becomes our (sometimes last) attempt at relief, he answers.  in mercy, he answers.  the circumstances may not change, he may not remove the pain, but his presence becomes unmistakable. 

the longer i live, choosing to believe in God's delight over me, the more times i find i'm able to dance through troubles and to sing despite my affliction.  hear me.  i do not pretend all is hunky-dory, put on a mask of happiness and stuff my truest feelings away in a cold corner of my soul.  no, no, please no. i am learning to cry out.  i am learning to accept that my brokenness, my failures, my hurts and my questions are no less important to my Father as my devotion, my triumphs and my personal growth.

this is how God turns our weeping into dancing - not by literally sweeping away the "bad" and promising nothing of sin or destruction will ever infect our lives again.  instead, he declares with promises never-ending, that all that he is is ours.  all of him.  we are chosen sons and daughters, from whom he will withhold no good thing! what better position for experiencing joy than in sad times?  what better way to find life but in the face of death? what better chance does light have to shine than in the darkest of all places? what other way can healing be possible than when there is a wound?

the flood of tears from my eyes was at once both a declaration of hurt, frustration and regret and a song of utter gratitude.  what joy it is to be free to release all of it to the skies!  i live every moment, in the fair and in the unfavorable, under a shower of Mercy and Love.

Let my heart sing for you

And not remain silent

Let my heart sing for you

Turn my weeping into a dance


So dance, dance my soul

There's no reason for you to weep

So dance, dance my soul, 

Make music to your King

------------------

"Dance, Dance" by Kate Hurley, Michelle Patterson.  Registered with CCLI.

day one

At 24 weeks pregnant with my fourth child, I've been put on bed rest.  Yesterday was Easter and the first day on such orders.  I enjoyed a quiet day at home while Kenn and the kids spent the holiday at the grandparents'.  Kenn did make a trip back to deliver to me a portion of the turkey dinner they'd all shared.

As I sat alone eating that meal, sadness began to creep in - mostly in the shape of self-pity.  Barely noticeable at first, I caught it and then looked it in its face. What are you pouting over? This is a loss imagined, not a fit place for grief.  I was holding man's traditions, a holiday, against the meaning of life preserved. And the life beginning inside of me.  This baby missed, now that would be a loss!

Gratitude returned just as fast as those woes had appeared and the food was consumed, reminding me that Resurrection is not a one-day hoopla and Rest is a longed-for gift.

(Written for On, In and Around Mondays.)

flying

our baby girl, who is about to turn two, was born with skew foot. it's not as common or severe as club foot, but as a tiny infant acacia wore full-leg casts and then moved to wearing a brace around the clock. at a year old the brace was only worn in daytime, then we were rid of it altogether this past winter. her skew foot was healed in both feet!

you'd never know acacia had any "abnormality" confining her to some artificial support. she was born sunny. and that sweet disposition has been God's gracious gift to me (and the world!) since her birth. she draws people to her no matter where she goes. i cannot tell you how many have whispered, "she's my favorite," as in secret. and physically? the girl lets nothing stop her. she thought she could just roll off my lap from a chair to the floor before she could even sit up! and how does she walk? running is her MO. her speedy pitter-patter is absolutely adorable to see.

knowing all of this about acacia, i was still concerned about getting her new shoe inserts. her specialist recently prescribed them after seeing how severe her ankles pronate and how flat her feet are. it's been so long since she had to wear a brace, i thought, what if they bother her, hurt her little feet? she might fight us to not wear them. what if it slows her down?

rhys, acacia and i picked them up last monday. the braces were tried on and a few adjustments were made, then we put an extra-big pair of crocs over them. our appointment was over, so we headed outside. there's a great playground right in front of the hospital. we always spend some time there before driving back home. as i walked the kids through that gate, their excitement was spilling out. don't you know, my little girl let go of me and RAN to the swings!? she galloped like a filly. she climbed steps like a big kid. she slid down slides over and over. one time, she did that little trick where you swing by your hands on the bar across the top of the slide before dropping yourself to slip away. she's never done that!

i kept shaking my head in awe, wondering momentarily how strange my grin might look to the other people there. i didn't care, joy was bubbling over. it was as if acacia had new strength in those shoes! and then, rhys began jumping off steps pretending he was superman, flying. guess who copied. acacia started FLYING. boy, did the tears come then and i recalled isaiah 40:31

"...they will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."

those whose hope is in the Lord.

acacia was born with a resolve and it's only fitting. her name means guileless. that's a childlike innocence. it is trusting.

i really needed to taste the truth that morning. not only with regard to acacia's feet. i needed the truth about hoping in God alone. trusting him as his child, in a freedom that knows it'll all be taken care of by my Dad. playing my days away as he deals with the big stuff. and to think, when i do so he delights to watch me just like i watch her. when my hope takes me to flight, makes me daring, gets me giggling, he beams in his glory. which just so happens to be my baby's other name.