Summer Days

It's been a beautiful couple of days.
There has been the usual hectic running around.
But there have been fun moments too.
There have been moments spent celebrating with friends, or engaged in quiet activities. (Well, okay. Maybe not so quiet.)
Yesterday, we began the morning with cinnamon rolls. Can't beat that!

The weather was perfect!
The boys spent most of the day working at the house with their dad while I ran errands with the baby in tow.
Family dinner was good, even though we were missing some members of the family.
Aunt Kathy made possibly the best beef cubes with gravy over egg noodles I have ever tasted!!
We had to eat and run, though, to help Jo's good friend and partner in crime, Nathaniel, celebrate his sixth birthday!
There was pizza and cupcakes and, of course, gifts.

Then, we all played a round of mini golf. Deb made everyone play, even the adults. I'm so glad she did. I had so much fun.
The boys had a good time too. I don't think Josiah remembered ever having played before. It was entertaining, watching the little guys play. (Plus, it distracted from us more pitiful adults!)

No one won the free game at the end of the course (you had to get the ball into the clown's nose!) so we headed over to the park for a bit to wind the evening down.

Unfortunately, the evening ended with Nathaniel falling from some playground equipment and getting the wind knocked out of him. But he is a tough little lion, and he was okay.
After not having seen our friends much since school has been out, it was so good to connect and spend time celebrating such a wonderful occasion.

Today, we woke up early, early, early to take Joe for CTR (Carpel Tunnel Reduction) surgery.
We got there at 7 a.m. and we were on our way home by 9:30 a.m. The miracles of modern medicine, I'm tellin' you!
He rested this morning, but then he went to mow the yard this afternoon, and then it was off to work for a bit.
He's a tough big lion!
We spent the day around the house. We were all a bit tired from our early morning wake-up.
I made Mexican for dinner. Burritos and rice and Tostitos with salsa.
We had watermelon too; the boys' favorite!
The boys and I watched Mouse Hunt.
Mom and Aunt Kat stopped in with coffee for me and milkshakes for the boys.
We read in Romans before praying together.
Now, the boys are asleep, and I sit, blogging. Reflecting on the past few days. Pulling out the best things about them to remember, to write about.
And there are lots of things, lots of good memories made in there to pull from.
One of my goals is to live with joy and purpose in all things.
Sometimes, I do.
Sometimes, I do not.
Sometimes, just sometimes, I think this blog should be titled "My run-around, crazy, pull-my-hair-out, yell-like-a-banshee, hormonal, emotional, selfish life with three kids I
I'm trying not to completely screw up and a husband who must really love me." (Well, this may be a bit exaggerated for dramatic effect; but some days, it's right on the money.)
Yes, the secrets out.
Sometimes the Joy of Three Boys isn't so . . . well, joyful.
And it's not that it's hellaceous around here.
Quite the contrary. We really have beautiful, amazing days full of lovely things and good times together.
But lately something has been missing.
It's like I'm on auto pilot for the summer.
It's like I have let go.
I have been anxious and upset about the renovation of the house more than I would like to be, and I know the kids see this, feel it, know it.
I know Joe does.
I have been lax with family devotions, and my own devotional time.
I have not been as diligent as I want to be in many things.
Some of you who know me may say, "Now, you're being too hard on yourself!"
But you have to understand, I do not write this as an invitation to my personal pity party.
Rather, I write it to remind myself of my goal.
To live with purpose and joy in all things.
Others may argue "That's not even possible. It's not a realistic goal!"
But I believe it is.
I have to believe it is.
And if my kids get nothing else from their formative years with me. . . I want it to be this.
That true joy is possible, but it only comes from God.
That all our days, all of our thoughts and actions should be directed by the purposes of God and furthering His Kingdom in and through our lives.
Am I really living like this?
Is this who I really am, or just who I say I am . . .who I want to be?
How do I change?
I know I will not be perfect in this. I cannot be.
But I must ask myself these questions. I must keep it real. I must be truthful in my answers.
I have three boys depending on me to do so.
So, there is another part of my day, a part I didn't mention earlier with all the other "nice" stuff.
It is the part I spent in prayer, repenting, re-evaluating, asking God for His grace and peace and purposes to visit me again.
I stood, repenting, as I folded clothes and watched the trees dancing in the wind and sunshine outside my window.
And that very fact -- that I could come before the Holy King of Heaven during the least sacred part of my day, bowing my heart before Him in humility, asking for His mercy, receiving His love among the tee shirts and towels and underoos, gaining divine strength from His example of sacrificial love to pick myself up, dust myself off and start over again where I need to -- that was His answer.

The cruellest month

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain. T.S. Eliot, The Wasteland, 1922 April is the cruellest month because it can give you a beautiful, sun-warmed day and then the very next day offer a gray clad sky and a wind-chill that can rival the deepest of winter days. I think it is "cruel" because you are so ready for warmer weather, for bluer skies and lighter clothing, for open windows and outdoor walks. And you get tastes of these things. There are days so perfect in their Springness, that you think, "This is it. It's really here!" But then, a cold snap, a spring rain, a late snow. And it seems there may be one of those wonder days nestled into long stretches of rainy days, and not just rain, but downpour grade stuff. You've heard the poem . . . "April showers bring May flowers." It's true. Without all the rain, there would be less vibrant color, and less true appreciation when those endless sunny days begin to arrive. But those things make it no less cruel. Today, I was tired, and not feeling too well. This is the result of spending the entire day outside yesterday on one of those cruel April days. The boys are all sniffles and coughs too, as they generally are this time of year. Tomorrow is another day outdoors, and the forecast says sunny but cold. Today was uneventful, if living this wonderful life -- breathing, every moment a gift, each next moment holding every possibility, -- could be considered uneventful. Daniel tooled around school in his walker today, visiting classrooms. It is so funny to see him walking the halls, "talking" to the kids. Josiah drew a picture today of himself and Jesus. He was so happy about it, and showed it to everyone. Isaac made his own comic strip. It was really quite funny, and he is a great artist. He has been reading a book that we took out from the library on art. It's Thursday, so we had family dinner. We were joined by Doug and Denise, Christian and Edine. Good times. Good company. And great food. Grandpa, as always, put on a spread. And he made a gorgeous apple pie among other delectable desserts for the occasion. The man is the best chef/baker I know. Bless him a million times. Afterward, home and baths and sleep. And I will rest too, now. I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, LORD, only makest me dwell in safety. (Ps. 4:8)

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.

Thursday night family dinner

I am reading this great book by Noel Piper called Treasuring God in our Traditions (by the way, I'm one of those people who have 8-10 books I am currently reading piled up by the bed with bookmarks in them).
In it she gives three definitions for tradition. The first is: "a tradition is a planned habit with significance."
Every Thursday night, our family has just such a tradition. Family dinner.
Family dinner began shortly after gram and gramp moved here in Dec. 2001. My family, Patty, Gram and Gramp would eat together every Thursday night, our children gathered around the table, listening to the grown-up conversations, contributing stories and facts they had learned and sometimes talking about general silliness and providing sound effects as young boys are wont to do.
Grandpa and Grandma always found a way to bring the conversation back to God and his goodness, sharing wisdom, insights and stories of God's faithfulness to them through the years.
Then, in 2003, my mom and dad moved here and joined the party.
When Keira was living here, she would come too when she could.
Typically, though, there were nine settings.
Then, when dad passed away, there were eight.
Family dinner did not stop when dad died. In fact, we needed them and each other more than ever at that point.
Now, there are seven plates.
Soon enough, when Daniel gets a few more teeth and can sit with a plate in front of him without dashing it to the ground in a fit of curiosity about what-will-happen-if-I-throw-this, there will be eight once more.
And really, there are many, many times when Christian Bedore and Eddine Mureke and others come and partake with us, our sisters and brothers in Christ and very welcome members of our family. Tonight, we had Doug and Denise and Abby, and it was wonderful.
The family table. It is one of the most important meeting places in the world.
It is where our children hear and are heard.
It is where they learn who we are and who they are, and ultimately, who God is.
In his book Morning Sun on a White Piano, Robin R. Meyers says some thought provoking things about conversation and the family table. Here are a few of my favorites:
"The American home has become the noisiest place of utter silence on earth."

"Conversation is how values get ordered, how passion is made contagious. If a parent talks about it, it's important. If a child is allowed to join in the conversation, then that child becomes more than a table decoration, she has a part to play in the drama that is growing up. If her ideas count, then she counts. Children gain essential access to adulthood by being given a safe place to speak and by rehearsing their thoughts out loud before the most patient and supportive audience they will ever know."

"Sometimes all we are looking for in this life is a word from someone. A word of reassurance, a word of forgiveness, a word of reconciliation. The authentic life is worth talking about. Talking about it makes it more authentic still. It's time to move off the couch and get back to the table -- because we cannot live without the sound of each other."

"Resolve to talk more and be entertained less."
I love that our children are growing up with this tradition, this significant habit of Thursday night family dinner. I know they will carry memories of these nights far into their futures.
As it is, they now have some great memories of family dinners past with Gram and Pop. How glad am I that we took the opportunity to share that time with them? Those nights are priceless to us.
Tradition! (Of course, now I am singing a song from The Fiddler on the Roof in my head. Good movie, by the way.) I am looking for more ways to make it a part of our life, not just for the mere sake of having tradition, but for having traditions that serve a bigger purpose, that strengthen our relationships with God and with one another.
Back to Piper. She says, "In the book of Exodus, Moses displays his understanding of the nature of children and the responsibility of parents: 'And when your children say to you, "What do you mean by this service?" you shall say "It is a sacrifice of the Lord's passover for he passed over the houses of the people of Israel in Egypt. (12:26-27) Moses assumes children will ask why. And he instructs parents to give them an answer that speaks of reality. This instruction is all in the context of laying out for children ceremonies that will portray the answer. He is giving them the answer, both spoken and displayed. And the answer is God -- God saved us and we honor Him, worship Him, thank Him. We and our children need this kind of yearly repetition to impress us with the weight of what God has done."
So, this is what I am thinking about tonight.
One practical thing we have begun doing to facilitate "conversation" with one another, a new tradition, if you will, is leaving notes for each other on the kitchen table.
Because of Joe's work schedule, there are nights he is not here when the boys go to bed and mornings when he is sleeping before they head off to school.
One way we thought of to keep communication open is to keep large index cards and some pencils or pens on the kitchen table. Before the boys go to bed at night, they write their dad a note, and when they wake up in the morning, they find a reply waiting.
It is a fun way to tell each other things.
My intention is to keep all the notes and put them in a book. They will bring back loads of memories for the boys and us in years to come. I love Josiah's rendering of his dad and Brody the Police Dog (bottom pic).