What were you made for?

There is a current rub in my life…that has all the signs of too little quiet time with Jesus.

(It doesn’t help that I lost my bible and planner and journal some where between College Station and California a couple weeks ago. And it feels insensitive to those precious items to just replace them with out a sufficient mourning time. But I am certain I can not live any sort of productive life with out them. And the sheer fact that my JOURNAL is lost somewhere and may possibly be found and even more possibly make it way to the internet for the WHOLE WORLD TO READ…might be the source of all anxiety I am about to write about. Just maybe.)

That “rub” manifests itself in anxiety and a general sense of not feeling comfortable in my skin. An uneasiness. Discontentness. Which is not even a word. Which makes me question my smartness. Which is a word.

In this place of anxiousness…I question everything. My thoughts. My decisions. My priorities. WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?!?! Which is bad enough in it’s own right. But because I apparently plan to drag my family down with me, I start to question my children’s lives. What are they made for? What will they do with their lives? I think this wondering started out in an innocent curiosity, as we identified physical traits of our boys that resembled Greg or I. Or habits or patterns that they picked up from our behavior. Wondering if they were going to be bald like Greg or hilarious like me. heehee. We both have a deep desire to know our kids individually. Know what drives them. What brings them joy. Their fears. Their challenges. Their little individual personalities that make them unlike any other.

And my current struggle is knowing where to encourage them to pursue what brings them joy as little boys, and encourage them in areas that we (as AMAZING PARENTS) know will benefit them as they mature into young men. If we let them just do what made them happy, Ben would spend 1,000 hours a week playing legos and Lyle would just eat cream cheese. They would not bathe or brush anything. They would not change clothes. Or probably even sleep. Clearly not the makings of a balanced, healthy, thriving childhood. So we make choices for them. Like providing healthy food. Cleaning the dirt off their bodies occasionally. Reading. Learning. Exploring the world around them.

And they complain about it. Oh how they complain.

I think I am trying to figure out what the non-negotiables are in our family? You don’t have to play football, but you have to eat your vegetables. You have to be kind and loving. Respectful. You have to try new things. And not quit at the first sign of difficulty. You have to set goals. And attain them. You have to encourage others. And when I say, “have to,” I mean PLEASE LORD HELP THEM.

As my mind was spinning this morning, I was reminded of the first question of the Westminster Catechism:

What is man’s chief end? Man’s chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.

So that is my prayer today. That they glorify God and enjoy Him forever. Knowing that the rest will fall into place. And praying the same for myself. Please Lord, that is my desire.

*Really I am writing all this because I signed Ben up for swim team knowing he wouldn’t like it because I think it is critical that my kids be strong swimmers living in southern California and swim team is the most effective, cost efficient way to ensure (insure?) that. And the first day he cried and we are going back today. HELP. How do I encourage him in this? He loves to swim and enjoys the social interaction of a group like this. He’s just lacking confidence in swimming the length of the pool. But I know he can do it. He has done it. Come on….you got this! And until he knows that…do I bribe him? Play tough mom? Beg him? Ignore his pleas?

A Million Miles in a Thousand Days

A couple weeks ago, a friend gave me a copy of Donald Miller’s book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. I started reading last week, and packed it to take with me to Texas. To say that I loved the book is an understatement. The author recants an experience of turning his memoir into a movie. Into a series of stories. And contemplates how to write a good story…with your life. Beautiful. Because that is what we are doing.

I appreciate out of the ordinary experiences. The memories that paint a picture that is interesting to look at. And I am grateful to writing for that. That picture to read and reread. To reflect on and redirect my focus. We are writing our own stories. For ourselves. For our kids. I want to write a story of adventure. Of humble service. Of love. And there are pieces to that. Pieces that tie words together, make sentences of the days and chapters of the years.

Last week we traveled across three states but it felt like a million miles. We were gone for one week. But it felt like a thousand days. We were traveling to meet our niece. And missed her sweet little life by but handfuls of hours. And the story from that weekend was one of great loss. Expectant hope. Tender joy. Beauty. And grace. These experiences shape us. The pictures move us. An empty swing. A table overflowing with provisions. A blooming bouquet. Combed hair. Ironed pants. A grin. And a tear. Standing in worship. Walking in obedience. Carrying the weight. Of a little life. Balloons held. And let go. Into a blue sky receiving. Food and fellowship. Dust and laughter. They tell the story of a little girl with a big name and an unimaginable impact on so many lives.

Friends, please continue to pray for the Davis family as they walk the journey the Lord has put before them.

88 balloons…for 88 days.

Mother – Son retreat

Ben and I went to Forest Home camp this past weekend for a mother – son retreat. I am a sucker for camp and just about any retreat…actually retreating from conflict was my special talent for many years. It’s a little harder to pick up and move (1,500 miles away like I did when I was 22) so a change of scenery for a weekend….YES PLEASE! Fresh perspective refreshes my soul. I am dramatic. I know this.

We arrived Friday afternoon, and after quickly dumping our weekend gear in the cabin, started exploring. The first thing I noticed was that the sound of the word “mom” did not overwhelm me, because I knew I could meet just about all of Ben’s physical and emotional needs that weekend with little effort. Which rarely happens at home when I am juggling SO MANY NEEDS of SO MANY CHILDREN. And I realize that “SO MANY CHILDREN” usually means 6 in the blog world, but in my world, it’s three.

As we explored, Ben’s excitement and voice began rising quickly. There were sticks to pick up, rocks to throw, water to jump over. Heaven for a little boy. (On a side note I spend way too much time wondering…worrying…what Ben’s special place in this world will be. Trying to identify and encourage his natural talents, interested and abilities, all while praying he seeks to glorify the Lord in all he does…forever…yes, he is just 6. Anyway, it brings me great joy to see him so excited about something that he is giddy.)

As we explored, Ben declared that we should go on a morning walk every morning we were there before breakfast. Yes please! He is my son. Saturday we saw the sun rise over the mountains. Broke the silence of nature’s morning with our giggles. And grasped hands to leap over raging (not really) waters.

The weekend included teaching for the mom’s, from a Godly woman with FOUR sons. I am tired just thinking about her reality. And teaching for the boys from fun college aged guys. So lots of together time. And just enough separate time. And super fun camp singing….with my son. After being involved in youth ministry for 5 years…with other people’s kids, it was surreal to be there with my own. Engaging him. Laughing with him. Getting him to stand and clap and do silly hand motions. It was so fun.

We stayed up way to late both nights and Ben’s enthusiasm wained, but over all it was a great weekend and I LOVED the special time with my oldest. And he loved the craft cabin. And I made him journal Sunday morning.

The whole weekend just reminded me of the importance of making time for one on one adventures with my sons.

Words.

There have been a lot more pictures than words on this blog the last year. But today…some words.

We survived the first “two birthdays in one week” year. And are a little worse for wear. It was a blur of frosting, presents, candles, special meals and special visitors. I threw my back out between the two parties. The adrenaline of it all made me think I could still do a herkie….and a front flip…and some other tricks on the trampoline. OUCH. So some of the blur might have been from the vicodin. Beyond that, it was a fun week of gathering and celebrating, laughing and singing. About the only birthday tradition we have that I can think of is lighting a candle and singing to the birthday person at every meal, snack, or chance we get during the day. So there were candles in oatmeal, sandwiches, pizza, cup cakes, bananas, etc.

We also realized that our sweet middle child was really bummed that his birthday is not the same week as his brothers. I tried to explain the whole calendar thing, then told him to get over it, then just started giving him gifts. I think I will go straight to the gifts in future years.

And as soon as the party dust settled, the reality that Callum is one started to set in. One year. Come. And gone. It was so hard. And so beautiful. And the combination of weaning him recently makes him seem so less dependent. Which is all together freeing! and a little sad. He is precious and I love him.

SIX.

and just because it’s beyond precious…Ben had his first baseball game Saturday.

Today

The older boys have been fighting a lot. FOR AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER. In an effort to encourage them towards love and kindness I added some new art* in their room.

*the “love one another” poster is just a piece of wrapping paper from the Paper Source and letters cut out from my Silhouette Cameo which was a gift to myself last Christmas. Did I ever blog about it’s greatness? I use it all the time for crafts, projects for the boys, invitations, holiday decor, etc. Sorry, no tutorial because Lyle was crying and Callum was trying to eat the letters as I glued. And the two prints on the bottom I shamlessly saved images from unknown sources and just printed on card stock. I think that might be stealing? I am not sure. Please don’t tell me if it is. Because I don’t want to have to take them down.

Also, Lyle is sick today. But was still able to give me a smile.

And Callum likes to stand.

Still missing

I stumbled upon this sweet picture of Gramma Dorie and Ben 4 years ago…enjoying a warm winter day. I miss her terribly.