I decided a long time ago that if I waited until my house was clean to invite people over that I would never have people over.
A true friend might actually feel honored that I trust her enough to invite her into more than just the neat and tidy in my life. A true friend gets invited right into the mess. And hangs out a while. And maybe feels the freedom to let me see her mess sometime too.
And she should feel honored because the mess is the real truth of who I am. All things un-hidden. Let's face it, on an everyday drop-in basis, my house is not company ready. Neither is my heart.
No picture to accompany the disaster that is my living room. No description to accompany the disasters in my heart.
Thanks to those who love me despite the mess.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
v-day
Our 2nd annual Valentine's Day family date at the beach.
Then Christian takes all three of his special girls out for a Valentine lunch.
A celebration of family, togetherness, the man who takes care of us, the girls he loves, the male/female bonds that matter most. A celebration of LOVE.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
brave
What does it mean to be brave?
When Annike was a little girl she was tough. She didn't cry when she got hurt. If she did cry, then we knew it was bad news. We thought she was brave.
Now we have changed our minds. She squawks loudly at the mere thought of getting hurt. If Sommer touches her in any way, we hear about it... though I have to admit that Sommer can pack a punch.
The thing that is different now in Annike as a 4-year-old versus Annike as a baby is her knowledge of fear. She now knows fear because she understands that bad things can happen. Fear of the future, fear of blood, fear of what pain feels like, and of course, when it comes to interactions with Sommer, fear of getting clawed up at the same time as she loses a toy.
Lately, I have been thinking about what it means to be brave. I see a lot of brave people in my life right now, and I want to be one of them. And I have decided that when Annike was a baby and did not cry does not really mean she was brave. She just had a high pain tolerance that seems to have evaporated with her 3rd birthday.
Being brave does not have anything to do with pain tolerance. Being brave is also not about living without fear. It is not throwing caution to the wind, or acting in stupidity, or doing something crazy that Hollywood might call brave. It is not possessing physical strength.
Being brave is acutely feeling the fear of what can happen but choosing to walk forward courageously, all the while trusting God with the details, the journey, the outcome. It may be risky. It may be hard. It is a choice.
Brave is choosing to forgive while the anger is still fresh.
Brave is walking through cancer, chemotherapy, hair loss, nausea, all the while trusting in God and seizing the opportunities He provides.
Brave is choosing to give someone the benefit of the doubt, offering the gift of trust, even if undeserved.
Brave is knowing when to fight and knowing when to let go.
Brave is caring for a developmentally delayed child, though every milestone is harder reached.
Brave is facing a terminal disease and choosing to enjoy the little things.
Brave is standing courageous in the face of opposition, feeling it is enough to be on God's side.
Brave is embracing the pain, believing that one day life will be different.
Brave is losing a baby in the womb, when all of the technology and ultrasounds and medicines will never be enough.
Brave is choosing to tell your story so that others will be encouraged.
When Annike was a little girl she was tough. She didn't cry when she got hurt. If she did cry, then we knew it was bad news. We thought she was brave.
Now we have changed our minds. She squawks loudly at the mere thought of getting hurt. If Sommer touches her in any way, we hear about it... though I have to admit that Sommer can pack a punch.
The thing that is different now in Annike as a 4-year-old versus Annike as a baby is her knowledge of fear. She now knows fear because she understands that bad things can happen. Fear of the future, fear of blood, fear of what pain feels like, and of course, when it comes to interactions with Sommer, fear of getting clawed up at the same time as she loses a toy.
Lately, I have been thinking about what it means to be brave. I see a lot of brave people in my life right now, and I want to be one of them. And I have decided that when Annike was a baby and did not cry does not really mean she was brave. She just had a high pain tolerance that seems to have evaporated with her 3rd birthday.
Being brave does not have anything to do with pain tolerance. Being brave is also not about living without fear. It is not throwing caution to the wind, or acting in stupidity, or doing something crazy that Hollywood might call brave. It is not possessing physical strength.
Being brave is acutely feeling the fear of what can happen but choosing to walk forward courageously, all the while trusting God with the details, the journey, the outcome. It may be risky. It may be hard. It is a choice.
Brave is choosing to forgive while the anger is still fresh.
Brave is walking through cancer, chemotherapy, hair loss, nausea, all the while trusting in God and seizing the opportunities He provides.
Brave is choosing to give someone the benefit of the doubt, offering the gift of trust, even if undeserved.
Brave is knowing when to fight and knowing when to let go.
Brave is caring for a developmentally delayed child, though every milestone is harder reached.
Brave is facing a terminal disease and choosing to enjoy the little things.
Brave is standing courageous in the face of opposition, feeling it is enough to be on God's side.
Brave is embracing the pain, believing that one day life will be different.
Brave is losing a baby in the womb, when all of the technology and ultrasounds and medicines will never be enough.
Brave is choosing to tell your story so that others will be encouraged.
Monday, January 21, 2013
rainbows
"We may run, walk, stumble, drive, or fly,
but let us never lose sight of the reason for the journey,
or miss a chance to see a rainbow on the way."
- Gloria Gaither
I personally believe that children were designed by God to help adults do this. Whether we run, walk, trip, stagger, step backwards, crawl or fly, our children remind us to stand in awe of the rainbows. And they are constant reminders that life is a journey, not a destination.
Some pics of my children enjoying the "rainbows" in our week.
And then the occasional moment when the world seems without rainbows, without reason to celebrate, without hope.
The tragedy was short-lived. Nothing like a banana, and a sister, to help find a smile.
Monday, January 14, 2013
happy new year
Happy New Year! Am I too late to say that? It is already the middle of January, but let's be honest, it takes me this long to get around to processing, then posting, an entry on this blog.
Spending time in reflection is one of my favorite things to do each January as the new year begins. That takes time. It all takes time. On January 1st, I could have written "Happy New Year" but I could not have written what is to follow, which in my book is what really matters. Only after time spent reflecting over the past year am I able to share about the theme repeated over and over and over again in my life.
This year God asked me to do some things that seemed hard. Maybe they don't sound hard to other people who have much bigger issues in their lives. But, to me, they seemed hard. A self-sacrificial, never-ending kind of hard. God asked me to do some things that seemed hard, then He gave me the strength to do them. A God who revealed in Himself a great pattern of faithfulness to me.
He asked me to parent a baby who did not know how to sleep, waking 4, 5, 6 times every night, then deciding catnaps during the day were enough for her. And He subsequently gave me the strength to get up each and every morning, to care for my family, to walk through my day with something that actually felt like energy. And more miraculously, He gave me the strength to have a good attitude, which I chose most days.
He asked me to wear a lot of hats. And He subsequently gave me exactly the right amount of time to juggle bookkeeping for our business, co-leading women's ministry in our church and parenting full time. Oh, and being a wife and a friend too. As an added bonus, once in a while He even gave me some spare time to do something fun outside of all those roles, like a crafty project or a post on this blog.
He asked me to spend time with Him every day. On the days when I did, He blessed me with depth and truth and gave the time back in some way. On the days when I didn't, He forgave me. And He called to me in a voice that was a little bit louder the following day.
He asked me to love my family. And He taught me that loving them means snuggling and serving and playing and laughing and escaping together. And that loving them does not mean my house is clean all the time.
He asked me to love unconditionally. And He gave me the eyes to have grace and compassion and perspective. He helped me to walk onto the other side of bitterness and forgive others. He helped me to forgive myself.
God did not ask me to do things that I was already good at, or already had the time for, or already felt confident in. He asked me, knowing full well how incapable, ill-prepared, inept, unseasoned, and outright weak I am. He asked me because I did not have the strength on my own... because He wanted to supply it... because of my vast inability and utter dependence on Him.
In the year 2012, God gave me incredible strength to do what He asked me to do. Even when the things seemed really hard. Especially when those things seemed really hard. And it gives me great hope for the year 2013.
Happy New Year from our family to yours!
Spending time in reflection is one of my favorite things to do each January as the new year begins. That takes time. It all takes time. On January 1st, I could have written "Happy New Year" but I could not have written what is to follow, which in my book is what really matters. Only after time spent reflecting over the past year am I able to share about the theme repeated over and over and over again in my life.
This year God asked me to do some things that seemed hard. Maybe they don't sound hard to other people who have much bigger issues in their lives. But, to me, they seemed hard. A self-sacrificial, never-ending kind of hard. God asked me to do some things that seemed hard, then He gave me the strength to do them. A God who revealed in Himself a great pattern of faithfulness to me.
He asked me to parent a baby who did not know how to sleep, waking 4, 5, 6 times every night, then deciding catnaps during the day were enough for her. And He subsequently gave me the strength to get up each and every morning, to care for my family, to walk through my day with something that actually felt like energy. And more miraculously, He gave me the strength to have a good attitude, which I chose most days.
He asked me to wear a lot of hats. And He subsequently gave me exactly the right amount of time to juggle bookkeeping for our business, co-leading women's ministry in our church and parenting full time. Oh, and being a wife and a friend too. As an added bonus, once in a while He even gave me some spare time to do something fun outside of all those roles, like a crafty project or a post on this blog.
He asked me to spend time with Him every day. On the days when I did, He blessed me with depth and truth and gave the time back in some way. On the days when I didn't, He forgave me. And He called to me in a voice that was a little bit louder the following day.
He asked me to love my family. And He taught me that loving them means snuggling and serving and playing and laughing and escaping together. And that loving them does not mean my house is clean all the time.
He asked me to love unconditionally. And He gave me the eyes to have grace and compassion and perspective. He helped me to walk onto the other side of bitterness and forgive others. He helped me to forgive myself.
God did not ask me to do things that I was already good at, or already had the time for, or already felt confident in. He asked me, knowing full well how incapable, ill-prepared, inept, unseasoned, and outright weak I am. He asked me because I did not have the strength on my own... because He wanted to supply it... because of my vast inability and utter dependence on Him.
In the year 2012, God gave me incredible strength to do what He asked me to do. Even when the things seemed really hard. Especially when those things seemed really hard. And it gives me great hope for the year 2013.
Friday, December 28, 2012
light in the darkness
Our holiday weight loss plan was to take Sommer to a public place and let her put everything in her mouth, thus bringing home a violent stomach bug for Christmas. Okay, it wasn't exactly the "plan", but that is what happened.
The day before Christmas our littlest daughter awoke vomiting in the wee hours of the morning. Holding my baby while she heaved, 5, 6, 7 times, unable to tell me what hurt or when it was coming, has to be one of the more heartbreaking things I have done as a mother. We somehow survived the day, with the low moment being a severe code brown while both girls were in the tub.
The sickness passed and Sommer seemed to be feeling better. My family was given an informed account, but still wanted us to visit for Christmas. We all made it through a wonderful, celebratory Christmas morning and family-oriented Christmas afternoon. We stuffed ourselves for dinner. Then it hit. In a span of 30 minutes, Annike, Christian, and I were all down with the same violent virus. Merry Christmas to us!
This particular Christmas has been a strange one. It seems like darkness has been at work, doing its best to prevent us from seeing the Light. We witnessed more sadness than usual this December. A sadness that often felt like darkness. We have seen a young mother diagnosed with cancer. A young child sentenced to a lifelong disease. Friends experiencing unexplained health issues. A dark cloud of discontent and anger in people we have interactions with. And, of course, there is little that compares to the shadow cast upon December by the shooter in Newtown, Connecticut. How my heart hurts for the people in that town whose lives have been forever changed.
While I was up all that Christmas night, trying to sleep between episodes of our own dark illness, I grasped onto the truth that no amount of darkness will win out over the Light. My mind and spirit clung to immense thankfulness... for a good partner to help hold the children... for the knowledge that this would be over within 24 hours unlike the bad news that so many others had this season... for the still small voice that whispered for me to do laundry before this all happened readying many pairs of clean pjs... for my brave brave 4 year old... for a baby who slept through it all... for my mother who would help us and take care of us as only a mother will, highly contagious disease and all... for the strength I knew was not my own.
Through it all we must remember that the Light has already won. In a sleep-deprived, sick night comes the deepest kind of gratitude. Just like, out of a smelly stable came a royal King. From a humble baby in a manger came the Wisdom we have all be looking for. Through a cruel death came the world's Savior. In the face of all that is inexplicable, He is the Answer.
Excerpts from Isaiah chapter 9 (italics mine):
The day before Christmas our littlest daughter awoke vomiting in the wee hours of the morning. Holding my baby while she heaved, 5, 6, 7 times, unable to tell me what hurt or when it was coming, has to be one of the more heartbreaking things I have done as a mother. We somehow survived the day, with the low moment being a severe code brown while both girls were in the tub.
The sickness passed and Sommer seemed to be feeling better. My family was given an informed account, but still wanted us to visit for Christmas. We all made it through a wonderful, celebratory Christmas morning and family-oriented Christmas afternoon. We stuffed ourselves for dinner. Then it hit. In a span of 30 minutes, Annike, Christian, and I were all down with the same violent virus. Merry Christmas to us!
While I was up all that Christmas night, trying to sleep between episodes of our own dark illness, I grasped onto the truth that no amount of darkness will win out over the Light. My mind and spirit clung to immense thankfulness... for a good partner to help hold the children... for the knowledge that this would be over within 24 hours unlike the bad news that so many others had this season... for the still small voice that whispered for me to do laundry before this all happened readying many pairs of clean pjs... for my brave brave 4 year old... for a baby who slept through it all... for my mother who would help us and take care of us as only a mother will, highly contagious disease and all... for the strength I knew was not my own.
Excerpts from Isaiah chapter 9 (italics mine):
"Nevertheless there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress....
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.
You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy;
they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest...
For to us a child is born,
to us a Son is given,
and the government will be on His shoulders.
And He will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the increase of His government and peace there will be no end...
The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this."
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
the nutcracker
On Sunday afternoon, we got to go on a special girls date. Annike, my mother, and I were invited by the Sugar Plum Fairy herself.
The Sugar Plum Fairy happens to be a good friend of our family's, a child I babysat regularly, and the flower girl from our wedding (which was clearly a while ago because look at what a lady she is now!). She personally invited us to Carmel's fantastic performance of the Nutcracker. What a treat! She was beautiful, with all of the poise and grace of an enchanted fairy.
Annike was enthralled. She couldn't take her eyes off the dancers. During every pause in the music she shouted in her high piping voice, "Now what?!" and "Where is the Nutcracker?!" and "When is he going to become a prince?!?" sending the audience around us into giggles. The enthusiasm was clear.
Prior to the show we joined a special group of little girls and mothers for a fancy tea in our winter best. It was complete with tiny sandwiches, a dessert buffet, and Annike's favorite "bubbly apple juice". (Papa told her once that the apples in the orchard next door to us grow the apples that make the Martinelli's bubbly apple juice... to which she replied, "Are they growing bubbly apples?")
We were little princesses. The afternoon reminded me that every little girl should know that she is worthy of being celebrated. Since having Sommer I haven't taken much time to spend individual, undivided time with Annike. Dates like these will definitely be added to our annual priority list.
Of course, the day would not be complete without a reenactment of the ballet. Proper attire optional.
A little more work to do? Maybe. It is really hard to be a good ballerina with little sister in the way.
The Sugar Plum Fairy happens to be a good friend of our family's, a child I babysat regularly, and the flower girl from our wedding (which was clearly a while ago because look at what a lady she is now!). She personally invited us to Carmel's fantastic performance of the Nutcracker. What a treat! She was beautiful, with all of the poise and grace of an enchanted fairy.
Annike was enthralled. She couldn't take her eyes off the dancers. During every pause in the music she shouted in her high piping voice, "Now what?!" and "Where is the Nutcracker?!" and "When is he going to become a prince?!?" sending the audience around us into giggles. The enthusiasm was clear.
Prior to the show we joined a special group of little girls and mothers for a fancy tea in our winter best. It was complete with tiny sandwiches, a dessert buffet, and Annike's favorite "bubbly apple juice". (Papa told her once that the apples in the orchard next door to us grow the apples that make the Martinelli's bubbly apple juice... to which she replied, "Are they growing bubbly apples?")
We were little princesses. The afternoon reminded me that every little girl should know that she is worthy of being celebrated. Since having Sommer I haven't taken much time to spend individual, undivided time with Annike. Dates like these will definitely be added to our annual priority list.
Of course, the day would not be complete without a reenactment of the ballet. Proper attire optional.
A little more work to do? Maybe. It is really hard to be a good ballerina with little sister in the way.
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