Thursday, March 31, 2011

somebody pinch me

Do I really get to spend my days like this?
*(Some days I ask the same question, but instead of a dreamy happy inflection, you can find me twitching with exasperation. Raising children can make you crazy like that.)

I'll take a double shot of this every morning.

And a night cap of this to close my day.

Shhhhh...please don't tell me to enjoy it now or mention just how fast they grow.

Trust me, I know. Wasn't she just his size a few days ago?

And wasn't I his size just yesterday, sitting on that very blanket?

Pushing around that same cart, learning to walk.

You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
the span of my years is as nothing before you.
Each man’s life is but a breath. Psalm 39:5

Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:12

Now, LORD, I am just learning to walk in your ways. Just wading at the shoreline of the ocean of your unsearchable love. Teach me to live well; forsaking all but you. Teach me to delight in your ways, to number my days, and to live them with utter intention and purpose. To set my eyes on You, my portion and Very Great Reward. Because when I do, all that tears at my heart, screams for my preoccupation and worry, melt in your presence. Bless us, oh Giver of every good and perfect gift, with eyes to see your blessings in the seemingly mundane; satisfy us with an abundance of You. May we not miss you, drowned out by the dazzling lights and roaring noise of our world. For you delight in the seeking, you take notice of the heart that pursues you as Treasure to be unearthed and cherished. Beat our hearts with the pulse of your Kingdom coming. It is coming. All of creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed. And for the one whose name is Faithful and True to ride in on horse so white, majesty filling the earth, and establish the Kingdom that will have no end. God with us once and for all. We long for that day. But until it dawns, may your Kingdom come in us today. May we live this day - eyes wide open - heart fully alive in You.

Monday, March 28, 2011

dancing is good for the soul

there is nothing quite like it - as body and spirit align to the rhythm of love
the innocence of life as it should be awakened - if only for a fleeting moment

tiny hand, a more marvelous creation than all the wonders of the world,
grasps mine, and I know love.
perfect feet bounce to music rising, and I am in awe.
Who am I to receive such a good gift?
Joy erupts - it bubbles from toes and wells over in ocean eyes that tell of melodies only angels can sing.
the dance awaits you. life - begging you to breathe her in, filling your lungs with the life giving moments that beat your heart.
breathe deeply, and have this dance

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Tonight I get to hear a new song.

One scribbled in inspired hurry Sunday night as the man of God spoke.
It is a beautiful ballad, and I am blessed.
"This one is begging for a soaring bridge hun," I call over my shoulder.
He agrees, and plays on.
What could have been so important in our week that I had to wait until Thursday to hear this?
Maybe one day you'll hear it too. I hope so.

And yes. Aron's birthday banner still hangs happily over our table.
I can't bring myself to take it down. It feels like sunshine and seems to me a giant smile greeting us every time we walk in the door.

It is now Friday. And I will be getting up for work in five hours. So without further ado, I will close this post most unpoetically and quite abruptly.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

A Very Happy First Day of Spring to You

"Mommy is it spring yet?" has been the never ending question of late.
Sweet Rose has had her TinkerBell calender marked for weeks, March 20th circled and starred.
Early morning the eve of Spring's arrival she chirped, "Ohhhh tomorrow is the first day of spring. I CAN'T WAIT!" I wish you could have heard her high pitched, oh so articulate, melody of anticipation . I do hope the sun greets her with warmth and the birdies come out to sing a sweet song as together they welcome the season of growth. Of slumber awakened. Of life anew.

Father of Life,
Of sleeping seed, buried safe beneath the threat of frost or foe.
Call forth the dead in us,
Those parts stomped down into dust,
Tred upon, hidden away.

Only you can can turn death into life,
Fallen world into Kingdom Come.
At the hint of warmth, the season of rain
Life awakens, dormant cells divide.
Tiny seed cracks with life,
Green shoot stretches to the surface to breathe you in.

Father of Life,
Infuse us with the courage of tiny seed.
To grow toward you out of the places of death,
To persevere through darkness,
Pushing upward toward the promise of your Light.

Bring us forth, through trial and disappointment,
Growing all the stronger, all the closer to intended design.
Until in your presence we stand, our faith in full bloom,
Our flower telling the story of your faithfulness and love.

Awaken Spring in us.

*To make a birdie nest of your own like Belle's, simply wrap a small bowl in plastic wrap. Place face down on wax paper. Mix clear glue with water at a 1:1 ratio. Dip strips of torn grocery bag into glue/water mixture, and place on bowl. Let dry for 12-24 hours. Remove bowl & plastic wrap, and voila! Adorable spring candy bowl! (We fell in love with this idea in the April issue of Country Living)

Thursday, March 17, 2011

On pies and other 'p' words

Today should have been a disaster, as experience would predict.
Sweet baby boy spent the night whimpering and heaving, as his insides tried to make their way to the outside. And while sleep evaded us, bodily fluids certainly did not. Gross, I know. Poor Judah didn't know what was happening, but I did. And I knew my 9 am test at work was going to be a bear on only a few hours of sleep.

I had planned to nap when I got home, but the viruses mocked me from the commode. They sang tunes of victory from the water faucets, and the thought of crawling into bed with them tonight was enough motivation to grab the bleach and go to war. Honestly, I am quite sure its too late, and the little devils are raising their flag of conquest somewhere in my GI tract. My boy, bless his heart, offered gentle kisses all day. And on the cheek wouldn't do. He wanted pucker action. How could I refuse?

The sunshine showed up on our doorstep like an old friend beckoning one to the front porch for lemonade and a hearty laugh. We, germ saturated and sleep deprived, answered her call, and she, in turn, honored our company by infusing energy as we soaked in her healing rays.

Though hours earlier on my commute to and from work, my heart cried out to the Lord - oh, how the city suffocates the life right out of me. Concrete blocks and parking lots for miles on end leak their gray right into my heart; "Lord, I need GREEN!" I begged. A conversation, a prayer, and an appropriate read, and something inside inhaled deeply of crisp, sweet life. I felt the blood returning and my heart dared to come alive in small ways. But ways that awaken in me a worship only I can offer.

You would not believe what an apron, an open window, and a rolling pin will do for this girl. Add in a few fresh cut wildflowers (though it is much too early for this), and you have just served me up a slice of heaven - complete with whipped cream (the real kind).

Its been too long since a pie - from pile of flour transformed to bubbling wonder - has beckoned from the oven, releasing aromas of home, delight, belonging.

So long, in fact, I've lost my favorite crust recipe. But I remembered the secret ingredient and located a substitute recipe that included it.

Raspberries and strawberries are plentiful in my fridge, so Razzlberry Crumble Pie it was.
I popped freshly rinsed berries in my mouth as I cooked. One for the pie, one for me. And as I bit into plump juicy flesh, I saw it:

I let out a scream any city girl would be proud of. Though I hale from the land of rolling hills whose acres of pasture saturate the air with the distinct aroma of fresh manure whenever it rains, I still don't like creepy crawly things. Never have. Never will. Not wanting to harm an innocent (albeit incriminatingly creepy) creature made my God, I attempted to transport the worm outside atop a butter knife. Belle informed me this was no worm at all, but a caterpillar. Whatever it was, it attempted to leap to its death right off the end of my knife and hit the floor next to my bare feet. Try as I may, I could not get that worm back on my knife to finish the deed. So I did what any responsible mother would do: I asked my four year old daughter to pick it up and take it outside. She's a good girl.

I have to admit at this point in the process I felt a little guilty to be placing such perfectly ripe, oozing-with-antioxidant super-berries into an oven - doused with sugar and heading to their death. But it was too late to turn back.

And out from the oven emerged a very validating afternoon's work. And a peace offering of sorts to my husband, who arrived home the night before to a very disappointing supper (apparently baked beets with Gorgonzola cheese activate his gag reflex...who knew!).
Now this post has been graphic, but this is life. So I might as well just say what I'm thinking. I sure hope this pie tastes as good coming up as it did going down, because I have a feeling Aron and I have a date with the commode come 2 am. I cautioned Aron at supper that perhaps we shouldn't eat too much this evening - knowing what is likely to come. I burst out laughing with his reply, "Oh man, I'd better chew really well. A nice pureed consistency. The chunks hurt coming up."
I can't believe I shared that with you. I may be deleting that later when I'm not so tired, and I reread it and wonder what in the world I was thinking. But for now, I still find it amusing enough to share.
As real as it gets,
*Post publication note:
My date with destiny did indeed come - at 1:27 am, and in the interest of full disclosure, I no longer find my little pie humor all that funny. Let's hope I get the kid friendly version of this bug, cause I hear the adult one is way worse. Blech.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Friday, March 4, 2011

Through It All

Today is my birthday. The big 2 - 7. Seems like so much older than 26 for some reason. 26 was, "i'm still a young 20-something." 27 is "I'm pushing 30 with 2 kids and a receding hairline and I don't like how the teenagers are wearing 80's meets Tron styles and skinny jeans are not very flattering."

It makes a guy think about where i'm heading. How we're all dust just a breath away from joining the earth again.

Jesus promised this life would be full of trouble, and i've had my share. But through it all Jesus has been my constant hope, peace, and strength.

Through It All (by Aron Paul Kirk) February 2011
The years pass away.
I know that I can't stay.
I hope for the day
I'll see your face.

The wars never cease.
My heart still finds peace.
For you are with me through the grief
Of it all

And through it all-
Through the fire and the flood,
Through the tears and through the blood,
We have hope because of you
Through the darkness and the fears,
Through the trials of the years,
You're with us here
Through it all.

In the stillness of the night
You quietly hold me tight.
Your promise is the night
Of the dawn.

Now the morning starts to rise.
Your light finds my eyes.
I realize that I'm alive
After all.

And through it all-
Through the fire and the flood,
Through the tears and through the blood,
We have hope because of you
Through the darkness and the fears,
Through the trials of the years,
You're with us here
Through it all.

You hear me when I call.
You catch me when I fall.
You are there through it all.