I Always Thought...

I always thought I would be famous someday.  Famous writer.  Famous Speaker.  Famous Actress.  There are lots of ways to be famous.  I was the kid who always just knew that I had something special that everyone could benefit from so it was my duty to share it.... and become famous for it.  I now realize, I am not going to be famous.  I have nothing special to offer.  I can't influence the world much or change or inspire people to become better than they are.  This is not a regret. 

Poverty

"Come.  Come Unto Me,"  says Father.  He sits and waits.  Arms outstretched.  Lap open.  Ready and waiting.  He has love in His eyes and lovely in His voice.  He says again, "Come here child.  Come unto Me."

She stands at His feet, pouting.   Eyes downcast, lower lip protruding.  She holds onto her satin night-night and pretends.  Pretends she doesn't hear, doesn't see, doesn't want.

His invitation remains.  He continues to gaze on her with compassion.  He desires her heart, her small arms encircling themselves around His neck, her squeals of delight, her precious smile.  He desires her nearness.  But He waits.  And He knows it must be her choice.

She continues standing alone.  Outside the circle of His loving embrace.  Her soul is fitful, unyielded, discontent.  Finally, begrudgingly, she crawls onto His lap.  She sits on the edge of His knee, looking outward, remaining distant, preferring to stay on the outer edge of the circle of His love.  Longing to be touched by it, refusing to be consumed.

He reaches to embrace her, to whisper His love to her.  He has a song He has been waiting to sing just for her.  A song of deepest love and desire.  A song to bless her life with.  A song to fill her heart with the peace and joy she so longs for.  A song to ease her tumultuous mind and reassure her of her worth in His eyes.  He wants her to know she is precious-- worth more than kingdoms and riches-- worth dying for actually.  That she is cherished.  That she is His and He delights in her.

She remains fitful.  Restless.  Unable, or unwilling, to be stilled.  She refuses to look upon loving eyes.  Refuses to hear lovely voice.  Refuses to believe words spoken for her own fitful heart.  Refuses to surrender to loving embrace.  Distracted, something catches her attention with its pretty lights and colors and mechanical dinging.  Looking outward to find contentment and joy, she climbs down from His lap.  Leaves the warmth of His great and loving embrace.  Shutting out words of life.  She climbs down, and is left empty.  Turning her back on loving eyes, and lovely voice, she toddles away. 

He sits and waits.  Arms outstretched.  Lap open.  Ready and waiting.  He has love in His eyes and lovely in His voice.  "Come.  Come unto Me."

The Best Days of My Life....Part 2

The time I have with the people I love most in all the world is short.  My home is filled with daily miracles!

Breakfast around the table together.
Scripture memory singing and singing songs of praise together. 
Dancing around the living room, laughing together.
Baking and cooking and cleaning together.
Driving around the neighborhood in the truck, windows rolled down, together.
Our walks-- seeing rainbows, flowers, birds, sunsets and sunrises together.
Sleeping together.
Praying together.
Reading together.
Yard work together.
These six little-but-growing-way-too-fast-people are my life.  I love doing life with them!  I enjoy them each so much.  I enjoy them all so much!  I desire to be with them everyday.  Thank You O Father for this amazing gift!  The gift of enjoyed togetherness!  Help me to savor and embrace and remember and continually delight in Your goodness!

The Best Days of My Life

These truly are the best days of my life!  I sit at the breakfast table each morning, the smell of coffee mixing with that of fried eggs, bacon, and toast.  I look around the table that once belonged to Ryan's grandmother.  I see my gifts.  Sarah, Maya, and Natalie on the bench on one side, Benjamin and Boden on the other.  I don't know who decided they would sit like this-- boys on one side, girls on the other-- but everyone seems pleased with the arrangement.

 Boden and Natalie are oatmeal and honey sticky from their "first breakfast".  They are sitting contentedly waiting for "second breakfast" with the big kids now that their growling tummies have been appeased a little.  Benjamin is well into his eggs and jelly-smeared toast-- a red glob of jelly on his upper lip and chin.  He is oblivious to the mess on his face in his attempt at putting his breakfast away as quickly as possible.  Boden is asking for more of something, or a glass of milk, and Natalie is quietly and delicately scooping her jelly off her toast with her fingers and enjoying licking it slowly-- making it last.

Sarah may be quietly re-directing Natalie or eating her own smallish breakfast.  Maya, after making sure everyone else has gotten all they want, is up and getting her own breakfast.  She slowly makes her way to the table.  I notice she has cut her piece of toast into two equal-sized pieces and has spread one of the halves with strawberry jelly and one with honey.  She thinks to bring everyone a napkin as she makes her way to the table and sits down. 

Gage Alexander the first, is on my lap.  He leans way over to try to grab my plate which is pushed out of his reach (I hope!)  He kicks and squirms and squeals and continues to reach for my food.  I sigh.  I am thinking that on one hand it would be oh so nice to enjoy, savor, linger over a creamy cup of coffee and my bible study-- in silence.  To be able to plan a whole day and do just as I pleased, to finally accomplish some task to completion.  On the other hand I know that THESE are the days I'm going to miss when everyone is gone.  One day-- someday too soon-- my house will be clean and quiet and I will have too many quiet mornings of coffee-lingering and task-completing and I will wish I could be back here-- around the kitchen table with the chaos and mess and noise and bustle.   I'll miss sticky fingers and reaching babies and cheeks smeared with jam.  One of these days, each of my favorite people in the whole world will be off, living their own lives and I will think back and know without a doubt that these are the best days of my life.  It's the daily togetherness that I know I only have for a short time.  The togetherness that I will miss most of all.

Unbelievable Joy!

This picture just blows me away!  My dreams growing up were always to:
1.  be a Mommy
2.  be a teacher
and somewhere in there was truck driver (!) and Olympic Gymnast.

God has blessed me far beyond my biggest and best dreams.  Children ARE a blessing from the Lord, the fruit of the womb IS His reward.  I look at this picture and I think...."unbelievable."  It is unbelievable to me that any one person this side of heaven could experience wealth and riches such as these precious, precious jewels.

There is nothing I would rather be doing than being a Mommy and wife.  Nothing comes close.  I love being Sarah, Maya, Benjamin, Boden, Natalie, and Gage's mom.  I love being Ryan's wife.  I am so overwhelmed with gratitude that THIS is what God calls me to.  Unbelievable Joy!

The Boden Funnies

 I forget how much I enjoy the blooming language of a three (almost four)-year-old!

Me:  "Where's the dog?"
Bo:  "He must have strutted off."


Bo:  "Mom, would you be pleased with yourself if you were tired and you didn't talk to people in church?"


Bo:  "Mom, when people look at you, do you hear a 'dink-dink-dink' ?"
Me:  "ummmm......no........"
Bo:  (staring at me intently for awhile)  "Can you hear it?  Can you hear the dinking?"

A Love Story 5-5-2013

I think of that moment in time....

I am in deep labor with my sixth child.  Arriving at the hospital 9cm. dilated.  A perfect labor.  Walking through the pastures, up hills and over rocks.  Playing with my Littles, riding the 4-wheeler with 10-year old Benjamin driving so very carefully for his uncomfortable Mama.  Not even realizing I was in labor.  Just thinking, "Maybe soon.  Maybe soon this baby will come."

Driving to the hospital after tucking all my precious ones into bed for the night.  A hot shower, a nap, a cup or two of warm beef broth--  hoping tonight would be the night but not counting on it.  I comment to husband--who is driving slowly, buying me some more precious moments--"I really want God to be the One directing all my steps but I so often feel that I am the one making the decisions!"  A cry of frustration at the not-knowing things.  Is it time?  Will I cry out for an epidural in my pain?  Am I weak for that?  Do I trust God enough to see me through whatever He knows is coming?
Anxious thoughts.  Anxious heart.  Faith colliding with thoughts and overwhelming feelings.

We arrive at the hospital.  I calmly ask for someone to check me-- I think maybe I've been in labor most of the day?  But I make it clear-- I want to go home if I'm not at least at a 5.  Don't put chains on me.  Don't lock me up.  Please don't lock me up!  No problem they say--  looking at one another with knowing looks-- this one is hopeful but out of here within the hour.

A kind nurse checks me.  "Uh huh,"  she utters.  I start to cry.  I knew it!  I'm going home.  The wait begins again.  The anxiousness of the decision making starts anew.  The exhaustion that will go on through another long night of sleeplessness.  "You're at a 9," she states.

My world flip-flops-- upside down and stays there.  "What?"  I ask incredeously.  That means I'm having this baby...soon....now!  I begin to be frightened of what I know is coming.  The pain of unmedicated childbirth which is quickly upon me.  My heart rate accelerates.  My whole body begins to tense up-- to fight against the pain I know is coming.  I panic.  I fight.  I scream for somebody to help me.  I have made up my mind-- I don't want to do this after all.  I can't.  I won't.  Oh but I must!

And in the midst of the pain-- excruciating, all consuming pain-- I am given a respite.  A place under the wing that God has prepared just for me, just for this moment.  A place where God and I can dwell together and He speaks softly to my fearful, fighting, exhausted heart.  "Do you trust Me?"
"Oh yeah, sure God.  I trust You.  I trust You can get me through whatever I have coming to me."
"Do you trust Me?"
"Um, yeah.  I know You are my all-powerful, all-knowing, never-gonna-leave-me-alone God.  I know You have promised You will bring me through whatever terrible thing You will allow to happen.  So, sure, yeah, I trust You."
"Do you trust My love for you?  My compassion for you, my child.  My daughter.  My Father-love that loves you to crawl up in My lap.  My Father-love that desires to hold you while you are hurting and understands this pain and wants to caress you and love you through it.  Do you trust my compassion and lovingkindness toward you, My precious daughter?"

I surrender.  I crawl into my Father's lap.  I cry on His shoulder.  I beg Him to help me because of His great love for me.  I see glimpses of His tenderness for His children.  Of His desire to love.  Of the pain He experienced giving up His own Son to the pain of suffering.  I am held.  I am covered.  I am in the most secure place.  I am loved with an everlasting love by a compassionate Father who understands I am but dust.  He is mindful of my human frailty and has compassion over me.   There is no shame.  I am singing, praising, my lips move in awe and thankfulness at what a wonderful, kind Father I have--  At His gift to me of His presence. 

Then, the moment is over and my body is racked with the seering pain of more and more and more contractions.  Then finally, in the blinding light, and through raw pain and real suffering, through the labors of what must be.... a child is born.  A precious son.  A gift.  A blessing.  A piece of God's own heart entrusted to me for a little while.  And I hold him close to my chest, skin on skin and he is comforted-- and I am comforted.  And we both begin to comprehend--  in those first few minutes of new life-- the compassionate love of a Father who loves and loves and loves to love.

Gage Alexander born 5-5-2013
Thank you O Father for the gift of this son and for the gift of Your loving presence.