Getting back to normal . . . whatever that is!

It's been raining . . . and raining, and raining.
Yesterday, as we were leaving for school, slogging through the wet grass, Josiah said, "We won't get to go outside today for recess, I can feel it in my gut! I can really feel it" and with that, he tapped his stomach with his clenched fist several times.
Where do they come from?
Daniel will be one in a few weeks. Is that possible? He is climbing stairs like a pro, and even taught himself how to crawl down them backwards. He just has to work on realizing how many stairs there are to go down.

Isaac is ready for school to be out, as are we all, I think. One week to go.
Last week was wacky week, though, so at least it was fun.
Monday was spirit day. The kids had to wear white, black or red shirts to show support to our school.
Tuesday was dress up day. Isaac was a New York Yankee and Josiah was a Knight.

Wednesday was wacky day . . . the wackier the better!
Thursday was pajama day. Everyone walked around in a stupor all day, wanting to take a nap. Good thing we don't wear pjs on a regular basis. Everyone would be tired all the time.

Today was just good old non-uniform day.
Next week is full of fun days and end of the year parties, etc.
Of course, summer break, for us, means settling into the new house, which is still "under construction." Some minor repairs and remodels have turned into some major projects, so we are still waiting it out at mom's and working on the house when we can.
I keep driving to the old house when it is time to "go home." Creature of habit, I guess.
Today was a beautiful day, a respite from the rain and gloominess that can come with it.
The skies were a beautiful blue, the clouds were so white and full and majestic, looming over the landscape, almost touching earth, it seemed. It's like all the rain was a spring cleaning for the sky, and today it gleamed.
Joe worked odd hours today, and the boys and I ate at grandpa's this evening.
The boys took the opportunity to play in the swollen pond. They looked so "Christopher Robin-ish" in their boots.

Gramp is doing well, recovering from the bypass and all the other ordeals.
It is so good to walk into the room where he is sitting in his recliner, to see him there and to hear his voice talking about anything.
A couple of years ago, I wrote the following in a journal, and today, as I passed him in his chair where he was reading the mail, I thought about this passage:

Have you ever been in a moment, and recognized, suddenly, that it is a moment you will remember forever. That it will later, maybe even years later, play back in your mind like a mini movie, and you will see clearly the patchy sunlight falling through the window, across your grandfather, sleeping in his chair. You will smell the early spring. You will see the candle flicker on the dresser. You will again feel the stab of love and sadness at seeing him there, sleeping in the daylight. And you know this, that it will play over again on days when the chair is empty; on days when it will no more hold the napping form of your grandfather.
This happens to me a lot lately. In these moments, time seems to move in slow motion, and there is a certain cognizance that the very moment I am in is becoming an indelible part of who I am. There is a clarity that escapes mere existence in these moments – a sharpness of senses that makes the scene surreal, almost. Dreamlike, except for the fact that I am acutely aware that I am, indeed, awake.
I have come to love these moments, even when they capture unpleasantness, for they make me aware I am alive. I hear the heart beating in my chest. I feel the blood running through my veins, my breathing rings in my ears, and I know, this – this very minute, and every minute like it -- is what it means to be alive.
Spring. Early spring is here, indeed, and we are in it, and I love the way the air smells. Promise. It smells like promise.

Moving on

Well, the house is all packed up, and the cottage we have lived in for the past two years will belong to someone else tomorrow.
I walked from room to room today, making sure we had everything, watching the way the sunlight sprawled on the floor in each room, breathing in the smell of the empty house, remembering.

Lots of things have happened in the short time we have lived there.
Lots of memories.
And leaving it will be one more.
I am sad about it, today. Not forlorn, but there was a pang in my heart as I passed through the rooms, seeing the forms of my children running through the house, hearing their voices calling through the rooms, recalling all the dinners with friends, all the cups of coffee, mourning dad, bringing Daniel home, mourning grandma, all in that house.
It was a good house.
It was our home.
Soon, we will continue the journey of our lives in a new house.
Now, we are in the process of making it a nice house.
When we are finally there, we will make it our home.
In other news . . .
Grandpa is home, and looks quite well! It is good to have him back and recovering.
He gave us a scare.
Our good friend David Grey is visiting, easing our transition from our home to this in-between state at mom's.
We are easing a transition for him too, I'd like to think, as he moves from Omaha, his home of many years, to Oklahoma and then . . .
Through it all, grandpa's illness, the move, and everything in between, there have been friends who have stuck by us, who have saved our skins more than once, and who continue to give of themselves though they must be tired, worn out and frankly, sick of us by now.
To them I say thank you, thank you, thank you, and may God bless your lives richly and lavishly and generously, the way you have blessed us!

Proverbs 18:24 "There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother."

John 15:13 "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down His life for his friends."

Welcome Home, Joe!

Today was a great day!
Joe came home from Sweden.
The boys and I got up this morning with anticipation.
I had coffee with a friend and we had some great talk time. While she was here, Joe called to say they'd be a few hours earlier than expected.
After coffee, we got ready and the boys and I went to pick up dad.
Daniel was fussing as I tried to get him in his car seat.
Josiah was talking to him in high pitched tones, trying to distract him while I buckled him in.
When we were finally triumphant, I let out a sigh, and Josiah turned to me and said, "Having a baby is hard work . . . a lot of hard work!"
"Yes it is", I said.
It made me chuckle.
When Joe arrived the boys ran to meet him and hugged him, welcoming him home with enthusiasm.

It took Daniel a minute to register who he was, I think. He stared into his face for several minutes. Then, slowly, a grin began to form on his bottom lip and it spread all the way to his eyes. Daddy was home!

When we got back to the house, Joe unloaded goodies from his luggage, candy and coffee and a special treat for me - a beautiful Italian-made teapot and four tea cups. It is so beautiful and unique. Very delicate. I am anxious to have tea from it.

We sampled some candies and looked at photos and videos of the trip. Joe said it was an amazing time.

The highlight, for him, was visiting our friends Frank and Betina in Denmark and seeing the communal church there in action.
God is doing some marvelous things in the earth in these days. I am so happy that Joe got to see some of it firsthand and can share it with us.
This afternoon, we just relaxed and talked and hung out around the house.
We made our way to family dinner and found Gramp cooking up a storm when we got there. Joe shared some more about the trip, but he was very tired from the traveling, so we did not stay too long.

On our way home, a full moon hung in the sky, pregnant with the promise of sleep for the weary and the possibilities of a new tomorrow.

Now, we are all back at our house, settling in for the night. It is good to have Joe home.
As usual, I am the only one up now, recording our day in this post.
I thank God for Joe's safe return, for his hand of protection on us while he was away.
I think of all the people Joe talked about. All the people he met and talked with, shared heart and soul with, half a world away. I believe one day I will meet them.
I think about what God is doing in the places where they live.
I think of Micah and Sarah in Suwon, Korea.
I think of all the bridges that are being forged and formed by God's hands and our willing hearts.
I can see and hear the heartbeat of God resounding in each of these places, evident in the stories and testimonies we hear from friends all over the globe. And though I am amazed to see that what is happening in Sweden is what is happening in Korea is what is happening in Denmark is what is happening here in the States, I shouldn't be.
Same God, different places -- that is what it all comes down to.
It's a big world, but God is bigger.
He is over all and in all and through all.

Remember when . . .

Saturdays were just the best days ever? When you were a kid, they stretched out before you with endless possibilities.
You could sleep in, though you seldom did because you didn't want to miss one moment of your day of freedom.
You could play for hours with no bells telling you it was time for reading or science, or worse, MATH!
It was a day when you were home with the grown-ups, interacting with them in ways that you seldom could on a weekday. Or, you went on a special outing -- a shopping trip, a visit, a ceremony.
When we grow up, the weekend can seem to be just another kind of work day -- house work, laundry, yard care all needing to be done. Special projects or chores or "honey-do" lists pop up and we find ourselves working just as hard, if not harder, on our one free day.
I was watching my boys play outside with one of their friends today. They were running and jumping and hiding, up to some backyard espionage, giving no thought to the dirty dishes and peaks of laundry and bills to be paid, or even what they would eat later.
They were laughing, those eyes-closed-face-tilted-to-the-sky laughs. Their voices rang out.
I miss those seemingly endless childhood Saturdays, but I get to remember them, get to feel them in my gut again as I watch my sons at play out my window.
Joe and I tried to get through a game of Yahtzee (did I get that right, Patty?) with them, but they were distracted and antsy, and I knew. Time to get out of the house.
Because they have been doing exceptionally well on their chore and responsibility charts, Mom and I took them to the arcade this afternoon (Isaac has been getting good spelling grades and pulling math up too).
We took a ride to show their friend our new house and let them run the yard once for practice, to see how it will feel.
We tried to go to the art supply store, but it was closed by the time we got there.
This evening, they had the opportunity to go to an International Food Fair at the auditorium with their friend's family. They were thrilled!
When they got home, there were lots of stories about what the shows were like, what they ate and how it tasted and who they saw there. "I'm so glad I went, mom. I had a really good time," Isaac sighed as he plopped down next to Daniel and I on the couch.
Josiah told his dad that his brother and he had "fried bee-anas" (bananas). Cute.
By the time baths and showers were had, and family devotions were read (Psalm 147, which is so excellent), they fell into their beds exhausted from a good, hard day of playing.
They were asleep within two minutes.
We spring ahead tonight, and I sit here, blogging.
From where I am, I can hear the steady breathing of all three of my sons, a symphony of the most precious kind to me.
Soon, I will join them, add my shallow breathing to theirs (and probably trumpet out a few snores too. I am quite tired).
A blanket of peace covers the house for the night.
This Saturday has ended.

Home, Sweet Home

We are selling our house.

Yup. The cozy yellow cottage will enfold some other family soon, will hold their feasting, laughing, yelling, snuggling, crying, sleeping, waking, dreaming, being within its noble timbers as it has held ours this past year and a half, almost two years, really.
We've been here such a short time, but there have been many memories made. Happy ones, sad ones, good ones, great ones, bad ones. All ours to take with us where ever we are going.
As sorry as I am to leave this house, I know that a house does not a home make. Home is made by the people in the house, by how they live together and how they love each other and what they believe in.
There is a great adventure in our near future. There is another house out there to become acquainted with, to make our home. It is quite exciting, really.
God is God, and we believe that He alone is sovereign, that He is good, and that He has plans for each of our lives, separately and as a family. He is more interested in home than anyone because He created it. He knows, even now, where we will be when the dust settles from all of this, even though we do not yet.
I rest in this. I thank Him for His kindness to us thus far.
I will not be anxious about this (though at times that takes a concentrated effort). I will, in all things, with prayer and thanksgiving present my request to God.
My request is this: God, draw us to the house that is to be ours; dwell there even now, fill it with Your peace and presence, preparing the way for us to come home.