Voice

Sometimes I think the whole purpose of teaching my kids is so that they can remind me later what I taught them. Because the fruit doesn't fall far and we all forget with amazing regularity around here.
I'm not sure why I get so frustrated when Rowan forgets to feed his emancipated dog when I forget much more important things.

I hear Rowan start off our morning prayers and Grant stops him, interrupts his petition half-way up.
"Rowan, I think you need to start over. You don't just charge before God demanding what you want. He wants to know that you're grateful for what you have! Thank Him first and then ask whatever you want."
Rowan reasons, "But I don't know what to thank Him for."
Grant stares at him in amazement and then says, "Oh my goodness Rowan! The blue sky, the trees outside our fence, the flowers on the table, they're all from Him! Mommy and Daddy! Avonlea and..."
"Alright I get it. I'll try again."
I sit there barely breathing, fully grasping the lesson I just re-learned.
Gratitude first. It's all from Him.
You don't just charge before God demanding.

Later a little Rose, wild and sweet, comes to ask me for something.
I give it a thought and then reply, "Rose, you'll have to ask Daddy."
I look up, surprised at her trill of delight.
She says, "That means yes!"
She dances off and leaves me speechless.
Her daddy loves her with all his heart, and she knows it. She knows he gives her good things whenever he can. She trusts his love for her.
And I re-learn a lesson. My Father loves me with all His heart. He gives me good things in His timing. I can trust His love for me.

I'm awakened in the night by a little voice. A timid little voice that asks for help changing the sheets.
I stumble into the dark bedroom and pull the soaked sheets off. I mutter in discouragement, "I thought we were past this!" And in the darkness of the room, a voice that I didn't realize was listening responds, "Someday we'll be past this. Someday."
Again, I'm reminded of what I forgot. This forgetting and remembering, this teaching and learning, this straining and striving, will someday be past. Someday.
There is a voice whispering to me in the darkness of these days, a voice that I didn't realize was listening. And it sounds like a child's.

Valentine

Long ago, when I was a girl and the emotions of love hit rock bottom, these words came and counseled me.
"Love is a decision."
Who the heck wants to be loved as a decision? I thought. How unromantic!
I wanted to know that the tide of attraction and destiny was enough to sweep someone off their feet.
But it wasn't.
At least not in my experience.
"Love is a decision."
The words kept coming and nibbling at the corners of my consciousness, changing the shape of what I thought I wanted.
So when he came, desiring to court me, I could entertain the discussion even though we were walking on the shore line, feet barely wet.
So I prayed.
And God told me to proceed.
To make the decision to love as He guided.
And I realized some months into the relationship that the quote was unfinished, incomplete.
It should read, "Love is a decision that precedes emotion."
Because I ended up swept off my feet and washed out to sea.

After sixteen years of marriage and babies, I am now, desperately thankful to be decisively loved.
Loved with a decision that precedes and succeeds emotion.
A commitment as consistent and powerful as the tide.
There's really nothing in the whole world as romantic as that.

My Island or Lessons Learned From a Bonfire

At the beginning of last year our family spent a week up at our cottage in the woods. One morning we decided to explore the property length-wise following the creek. The six of us trudged through snow and slush and mushy mud. There was no trail so it was hard going. We came to a fallen log that spanned the creek and single-filed it over to the other side. Or did we? Because when we walked forward a little bit, there was the creek again. As we got our bearings, we discovered something that took my breath away.
We were on an island.
Now, if you were to ask me what I wanted most in the world when I was a little girl, I would say a white kitten. But a close second, would have been an island.
To be surrounded by water, the sound of it in both ears, from each side, is incredible.

So this week, up at the cottage again, we cleared the island. Cleared it of decades of dead wood and leaves and brush. We had bonfires for several days which taught me several interesting lessons. One being, that fires can actually curl and bleach your hair if you get too close. It's true. It's also true that the hair then disintegrates after it's had its moment being curly and blond. Also, if you burn too many fingers too badly then it is difficult to play card games with the kids at night. At one point Grant informed me that I had a lot of black soot on my chin. He said, "Um Mom, you have a beard. But it looks really good on you." I would have never known I look good in a beard if it wasn't for the bonfire.

What was I talking about? Ahh yes, islands. Anyway, so we cleared the island. And I began to decorate it. Did you know you can decorate islands? Mine is going to have a big hammock, I have the lucky trees picked out for it. It's also going to have a pavilion with mesh curtains, a table and chairs, and cots for sleeping at night when there's more people then will fit on the hammock. There is already a fire pit (where I learned the lessons randomly stated in the previous paragraph).

I made a lot of these plans while painting the dining room an intriguing blue-gray. Which leads me to another interesting point. You can decorate an island while decorating another room.
Creativity begets creativity my friends.

When I told my beloved husband my plans for the island he was naturally a little stunned.
But maybe that's because his wife had curly blond hair and a black beard.
I'm not sure.

Anyway, I really like my island.
Just in case you were curious, I got a white kitten several years ago.
I have no plans for growing a permanent beard.

My island...log bridge on left

I love my orange chair in the woods.

Rowan trying to figure out how to cross.

Posy posing with logs.

Brothers on a mossy rock with hair curling fire behind them.

Goofy kids on their Daddy.