Glimpses

Okay. This will be really long. Am posting some pictures to give a glimpse into our family life, but don't know how to make one of those very practical, very cute window-thingies where your pictures can be scrolled through, all in one window. I only know how to post them one-by-one.

There's several pictures because I'm starting with some September ones. I have to wait for someone else to get our pics off the camera and put them on our hard drive so I can upload them. Yes, I've asked for the tutorial. I've received the tutorial. But my brain is just full, and I can't remember how to get the pics off the camera. (But I CAN remember my husband's SSN and my library card number [FOURTEEN characters long, oh, yes it is!] and my best-friend-in-9th-grade's birthday and my high school locker combination [yes, that's weird, but it's because we use the same lock on a door on our house] and... digressing, digressing...)

ANYway, here's some shots. Hope you enjoy!


Here's what we like to do in the fall, on any-given cool weather evening. We love to do this in the early spring, as well. We live out in the country a bit, so we get a great view of tons of stars while we listen to crickets and frogs and owls.

Here's our 7-year-old with Dad, roasting either a hot dog or marshmallow. That's all we do at this point. Nothing fancy.

One of the highlights for Jake is getting to explore with the flashlight. He loves these things and keeps Energizer in business (batteries don't stand a chance against this boy).

Me? You think I'm gonna turn down S'mores?


Two best yard dogs. Ever. Old momma dog Meg is the chocolate Lab. She's 12, been with us since she was barely weaned. Hunted ducks all her life, best duck dog Dad ever knew. She's in relatively good health, except for a heart valve issue. Don't know how much longer she'll be here. We try not to think about it. And we never discuss it around our 7-year-old.

The black pup is Cole. I call him Coleslaw to tease Dad a bit (no self-respectin' duck dog would ever answer to "Coleslaw" -- but he'll answer to anything as long as you'll throw his rope toy!). He's just now a year old and will probably be an even better retriever than Meg. (We don't mention that around her.) I never wanted a male Lab. They tend to be a bit air-headed. Cole, however, has wrapped my heart around his big black paw. He has the softest ears and the biggest brown eyes. I don't care how silly or foggy he acts; he's a sweet baby!


We just celebrated 21 years of marriage! We had a great dinner in town, and my sweet husband gave me the best gift: a day off from work! I got to leave for town early that next morning, have lunch with my best friend, then coffee with her, had cash to go shopping, then a gift certificate to get a massage from another dear friend. THIS man certainly knows what energizes me! I am so thankful for him.


Thanksgiving at Mamaw's! Every year, we switch off with where we celebrate Thanksgiving. This year, we visited at my mother-in-law's home. Here she's playing jacks with the youngest two.

Mamaw and our oldest discussing life while the potatoes get peeled.


This is me with my sister-in-law's-son's-daughter's FERRET!!! ohmyword... I was terrified of this rodent-creature the minute I saw it. I've heard about the viciousness of these things and wanted no part of it. But the kids were haulin' it around like a baby and it just laid there. So I MADE MYSELF PICK IT UP AND HOLD IT. For at least 6 minutes. And then we took a picture to document THAT I PICKED IT UP AND HELD IT. Close to my face. For about 6 minutes. Then I put it down. I was through. (And until I can figure out how to rotate this picture, you'll have to lay on your side to see this. But this was unbelievable, so I had to post this pic!!)


A little checker-playin' going on. And I pinkie-swear that I didn't set this picture up! They actually chose to do this. Together. And played several rounds. Wow...


Time to start decorating the tree! We love doing this as a family. This is the first night we drink egg nog (it is taboo for even a sip of nog to pass the lips until the tree is in the house!) while we listen to Johnny Mathis sing the old traditional carols. Weird? Yes, but these were my traditions while I grew up. I kept them going with my kids, and they insist that we do it the same way each year.

And don't ask why Jake is half-naked. Around here, clean underwear is all that counts. Well, that and brushed teeth and no blood.





Jake is singing with his choir at church for Christmas! He LOVES to sing! Poor kid can't carry a tune in a bucket right now to save his life, but I bet that changes! I know I couldn't sing on key if I was still trying to learn a second language, get through a grieving process, and focus on standing still while singing some song I didn't know!

Do you see him? He's the handsome little guy with the gorgeous head of jet-black hair, the boy with the big(gest) brown eyes (as though you could miss him).


Gingerbread houses? Yes, we did those this year (yea, Momma!! earned the gold star sticker!). This particular house was decorated by my daughter. She did an incredible job! And Christmas has come with many other traditions, as well. I'll probably post some Christmas pictures later. This has taken a while, and I bet you're completely done with these random shots of us.

I hope your Christmas was good, full of peace and contentment and joy. And thankfulness.

Beautiful Truth

Every time I hear this beautiful poem read, I find myself in tears. If you haven't heard this yet, you must read this (actually, you'll be listening to it). These beautiful truths are for the times when you hurt, when you question, when you fear... when you find yourself groping with the boundaries of your humanness and looking for Guidance, for Light, for Comfort.

These incredibly encouraging words (ah! to be reminded again and again that my God never sleeps!) are read by Kristyn Getty (The Gettys). If you don't know of their music, you will never find anything more beautiful to listen to. They are an Irish couple who've been blessed with incredible song-writing and musical gifts that they use for the glory of God.

For you, with love!

Documentation

Just wanted to document proof. For me, and for you, since I use this space to sometimes lament and vent and whine (many apologies...).

But look! There is no blood! There are no punches! There are no pouting faces! No tears!

Yes, there are truly times, usually even each day (!!), where there is peace with the younger two of this family. And honestly, I have yet to completely lose hope. Some days are harder than others, but there is always hope. Because there is always God! The Great Heart-Changer and Builder of Relationships. Something tells me that someday these guys might even fight for one another rather than against each other. Wow...

“Behold, I am the Lord,

the God of all flesh.

Is anything too hard for Me?"

Jeremiah 32:27

Battling Unbelief

I've really wrestled with putting this post out there: do I write and then post tomorrow? Three posts in one day. Hhhmmm... That's weird. I don't do that. I think there's probably a ton of pride smeared up in all of this (okay, I know there is: "I have something to say that's important to me and I just gotta get it posted!"). But sometimes my brain just won't stop and I need to get it down. For me, for later, because the same issues cycle and I need to remember what I learned before. But there's also a sense that God has done great things for me and I want to say it "out loud."

Psalm 66:16 says, "Come and hear, all you who fear God,

and I will tell what He has done for my soul."

So that's wrapped up in the motive, as well.

And sometimes I think that maybe I'll connect with someone who struggles with the same thing or who has discovered the same truth or something. There's something very affirming about that connecting. Some sort of endorphin release, maybe...

So, whatever, here's post #3. I was putting away laundry, thinking back over the last post, on depression. Remembering past stops in the Journey where darkness descended and laid me low and took the reason away. And I was remembering my sweet husband and all his ministerings to me when those times erupt. He's so good at recalling the Words of Truth and remembering what Piper said and what Spurgeon taught. Sweet words that break through the clouds and shore up the crumbling spirit.

I struggle greatly (at times) with whether or not I love the LORD. At times there is just no evidence. A few years ago, this same battle began anew. My husband went through the questions again, one of them being, "Do you love the people of God?" As in, do I love them and want to spend time with them and want to serve them?

I was so entrenched, couldn't figure that one out. "I think I just want to be around them because they're so good. What they do is good, they are kind, and I want to be around those kind of people. I don't think I really love them, though." When you're in that pit, you just lose all ability to discern. Satan is having a field day.

Then the healing comes from his words: "Honey, you want to be around those people because they have CHRIST in them. They are just like you, sinful and fallen and weak. But they belong to Him and He is coming out in their lives and you are drawn to them because you are His and you want to be near. You love them because you love Him and are drawn to His people!"

And that is so true! I am so weak, and I want the tangible. I want Jesus in the flesh, sitting at my table and talking to me in waves that vibrate my ear drums, touching me with perfected hands that hold me close when the terror strikes. I want Himself by my side so I can cling to feet. I want to lay my ear against a chest that thumps with heart-pulses.

And I've asked, several times. Pleaded with God to just come down, because He can, and I demanded to have proof that I belong to Him, because I was wild with the (un)belief that I was not known by Him, and that I had no hope for saving myself.

But God requires my faith. And my faith requires the necessarily brutal soul-work that comes with the absence of the seen. The silence of the physical stillness. And so He kindly waits for my thinking to clear and my faith to grow under His tender, skilled tending. And I "see" Him near and get back up and continue on toward Home.

And through all of this, He continues to see my unbelief, and my weakness for the tangible. And He ministers to me the balm of assurance that I do love Him. In my terrible, fallen, and ever-shifting ways, I do love Him. And He surrounds me with His people, who are my true family, bought with Blood that is thicker and stronger than earthly bonds. These eternal relationships that are full of Him. Pieces of Him that I can fellowship with and cling to and taste.

The LORD is kind to me. More than I can see, and more than I can articulate.

"Why does He love me so?"

Scattering Some Darkness

Sometimes I find myself in very dark places. Embarrassingly dark. Terrifyingly black. Bewildered, wondering which path brought me down to that level.

I have friends who encounter the dark, as well. And we talk in hushed tones, reaching out to comfort and guide, survivors with maps that point to the Light. Voices are muted, though, because the ones who overhear probably won't understand. Or will be quick to label our dark as "sin," which isn't very helpful because we're already repenting for everything that comes to mind and yet the darkness still won't budge. Which causes so much fear because we can't quite seem to move beyond it. And we won't be able to until He's ready to move us on, equipped with stronger faith and more knowledge of the great Healer.

That's one of the reasons I love Charles Spurgeon so much. He was so transparent about the dark times he walked through. And his God-given wisdom that rings through the halls of time continues to bolster my flagging faith and encourage me to hang on, that I'm not losing my mind, that I'm just one who has to get in the dark so that my weak eyes can see more of the Light.

Here's a great post from one of my favorite blogs about what Spurgeon said. Wanted to share, in case anybody happens across this post and is struggling. Hoping to pass on the comfort that I've been given by the Comforter.

Help Me to Smile...

Because it's a crazy time of year and I'm finding myself more stressed than normal and there remains so much to do and I'm hormonal right this minute and I'm introverted and needing to breathe and I'm tired of everyone asking so many questions and everyone needs to be everywhere but where I'm going and the days are flying by and I know I'm barely redeeming the time and it's definitely not enough and because we all (most especially me... most especially me) continue to battle indwelling sin and so we fuss and irritate each other and forget to love and walk gently and serve and I lose my patience because no one is acting like Christ, for crying out loud, and I am weary with the weight of days gone by where much has been lost and am tired of all that remains in front of me...

God brings my self-centered, calloused-heart, discontent self to sweet truth that squeezes my heart into soft readiness to slow down and see and serve with love and be thankful.

Once again, thank You, Father God, for not being the parent that I am.

And for not being short-suffering with me. For never leaving me.

Here is where God led me this morning (from Ann Voskamp at Holy Experience). And I am thinking that I will remember to smile today. And hopefully tomorrow and the next day, as well.

Kiss your husband and your babies!

Fruit of the Trial

It came out of nowhere. My day started as usual. Sat down to eat at noon. Within a 10-minute span, I was mute with pain and headed up to my bed. Feeling poorly doesn't usually send me to bed. I'm a homeschooling, middle-aged mom; nothing much is accomplished if I sit down just because I'm weary or don't feel so well. But this wasn't your typical "feeling poorly."

By 1:30, I knew I had fever. It lasted until around 8:00 that night. The body aches kept me on the bed. It hurt too much to even read the paper.

My daughter was at classes away from home. My oldest son kept the younger ones quiet. I rested.

4:00 brought Dad home. He checked on me, which gave the younger boys the opportunity to come into the sick ward, as well. And then, I began to see...

The younger two kept coming to the bed, checking on Momma. "How ya doin', Mom? Are you feelin' better?"

"I don't want to go to AWANA tonight. I want to stay home with you. I want to help you."

No hugs for the contaminated face of Mom could be extended, so concerned arms wrapped my knees and feet. The blankets that covered my legs got the offered kisses.

Mom was down for the count. And Mom was captive.

There was no strength to be schooling, no strength to be preparing the group for Wednesday night church, no strength to prepare dinner. There was nothing I thought I should be running to do. And so I laid there. And received.

I had more one-on-one time with all of my kids than I've had in way too long of a time. We talked so much, about so many things. All of us. My 2nd-grader made me a get-well card that brought tears. Jake asked for my Christmas wishes and wrote them all down. My daughter came home after church and talked for a long time about her day and about things that were on her mind. My oldest son kept coming in to give kisses from his fingers. All of us sat. Still. And talked and talked and talked. About nothing but about everything that came to mind.

I realized the existence of a desert inside; one I'd allowed to grow as my busyness pushed the fertile ground out. I was forced to be still... and be available.

I'm reading a book right now that has an interesting line, something like: "He was working so hard at being good that he forgot how to be kind." And I see me:

I've been working so hard at being MOM that I've forgotten to be momma. I've forgotten how to stop for long, extended periods of time. I think that all of my scheduled times of Bible reading, library-book reading, meal-fixing, laundry-doing, school-teaching ~ that all of this is ministering to my children in adequate ways. Laying on my bed reminded me that I need to slow down ~ way, way down ~ and be ready to stop and engage and listen, for longer times, all throughout my day. To connect, to truly minister to the tender hearts of my children.

To just be momma.