From Behind the Waterfall

Last week a friend reminded me of the analogy of tapestry, or needlepoint.
How we see life from the back of it, knots, frayed ends, a NY interstate system of disorder and confusion.
But God sees the front of the design, the picture, the ordered beauty.
This week's "church in the woods" gave me a glimpse of God's side of the canvas.
We hiked the Columbia Gorge this Sunday and found a waterfall tucked up in the cliffs.
The front of Ponytail Falls was lovely, a sheen of water with gray rock behind.
To our delight, the trail didn't continue in front of the falls, but went behind it.
And, oh, the view from behind the waterfall!
The surprising overflow falling from above, the Columbia River beyond framed by verdant summer trees, and the sun which was now in front of me rather then behind.

And I know that too often, I see life from in front of the waterfall.
Dappled light at my back, something pleasant in front of me, enough to be satisfied.
But when I reach, stretch, go a little further in faith, seek a new angle of understanding, I am amazed that sometimes,
He lets me see something more.

So this summer, I venture beyond safe and satisfactory, to see what life holds from a new angle.
To see what view greets me from behind the waterfall.

Here are some of my favorite summer views so far:

Posy loves her baby dolls.

Rowan wrote Pa Jim a story for his birthday. Apparently it was funny.

Avonlea did her sister's hair and took pictures.

The tree house, getting there.



A Dave size slip and slide. My husband never does anything small.
Did you know dish soap will enhance your slip and slide experience considerably?



Two teeth this month!

So thankful!

 

On Battles, Weddings, and Boy Slugs

I walk down the hall tonight in my apron. The apron pocket contains three rubber gloves and two bottles of ointment. The antibiotics were administered earlier.

This Florence Nightingale moment is a result of a doctor's appointment. Rowan had a staph infection in his eczema several weeks ago. I noticed in dismay last week that it appeared to have spread to Grant and perhaps Rose.
I took them all in to get looked at and nonchalantly asked the doctor if he could peek in Posy's ears as she hasn't been hearing me too well. Double ear infection, tubes bulging with fluid. He said he was surprised she could hear at all.
Grant was infected, Rowan and Rose inflamed.
All this infectious joy two days before we left for my niece's wedding.

So I packed rubber gloves and medicines and ointments in a chic pink case and made the best of it.
I slept between two lubricated little boys, who left a trail resembling slug slime everywhere they went.
We watched our brother-in-law give away his little girl.
 My flower girl traded her flowers for a ring and vowed her life to another.
At the reception a violent thunderstorm hit.
Mom said it reminded her of the passage in Revelations where the throne of God is surrounded by thunder and lightning storms.
Yes, even here in the holy moments, there is battle, symbolic and actual.
It is grace to be reminded of this.

I battle pray over these little boys with their wounds and my little girl with her muted ears and I know that these prayers will subtly change over the years.
My sister's battle prayers for her bride daughter are very different than mine, yet the heart is the same.
We want health for our children.
Physical health, spiritual health, mental health.
Robust health.

So I am Florence tonight, with an apron pocket stuffed with soothing salves and a heart stuffed with love for these children.
I touch their faces (after I dispose of the gloves) and pray God's perfect health for them.
My heart is full of the reality of storms and battles and the strength He gives to weather them all.
I am not afraid to fight for them, because I have more in my pocket than just topical help.
I have the Word of God, which never returns void, I have the Holy Spirit, guiding and helping, and I have Jesus Himself, interceding on my behalf.
I am well armed for the years that lay ahead.
It is grace to be reminded of this.

Random Pictures on the 4th

It seems that kids and kittens still want to be fed, even on the fourth of July.

This is what I came downstairs to, mouths waiting.

The kids played and worked hard all day and the energy level amazed me.

The boys banded together and asked their dad to build them a tree house. He consented and took them to the hardware store to get materials. He worked on it all day for them, and they were there much of the time to pass him supplies and shake his ladder in fun.

Rowan claimed his independence on Independence Day by losing his first tooth. Literally.

Grant eventually found it under the picnic table.

He gave the same cry as Grant when he realized it was gone, "I'm not Peter Pan anymore!"

Then he buried his bloody, ketchuped face in my shoulder (might I add that I was wearing a white shirt).

He emerged victorious from wrestling the demons of "growing up."

 He smiled his gap for the camera.

Rosy and Rowan with sparklers....so cute and scary. 

My patriotic crowd.

Dancing around the strobe light firework (Yes, I know that's not what it's really called).

Between losing his tooth and setting off fireworks, Rowan was extremely affectionate.

Mom was loving it.

Four very smoky, smelly children were sink bathed and tucked into bed while the sky continued to explode thanks for a country that honors freedom.

Growing Kittens!

What's sweeter than candy?

More fun than legos?

More cuddly than mama?

 Hours of living entertainment.

 We are thoroughly enjoying these babies.

Church in the Woods



This summer we felt God calling us to do something different.
We agreed that as soon as nice weather hit, we would have church outside. Alone.
This, for me, was unconventional. Risky.
Will my children turn out normal if they miss several months of Sunday School?

So we hit the trail.
A 1.25 mile hike to a waterfall.
We found a cozy nook and opened God's Word.
Proverbs 4: 10-12
"Listen, my son, accept what I say,
and the years of your life will be many.
I guide you in the way of wisdom
and lead you along straight paths.
When you walk, your steps will not
be hampered;
when you run you will not stumble."
My husband shared the reality of truth, that this life is a journey, a path.
Many trails wander off it temptingly, many dangerous plants look lovely, it is easy to get lost.
Every week a different aspect of this truth.

Every week a different power point presentation of God's beauty, in His cathedral.

We spent time in prayer.
Lifting up our children earnestly to their loving Father, laying our friends, family, at His feet.
This is our family. Defined and isolated for a brief moment.
This is the job of a family, and the joy of a family.

Three hours later, we emerged from the ferns.
Refreshed and victorious and laughing.
Acts 2:28
"You have made known to me the paths of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence."

We are unconventional for a season.

We are obedient for a life time.

Today I hear Rowan speak an unkind word in the other room.

Before I can reprimand, Grant's voice instructs, "Rowan, you're wandering off the path. Be careful or you'll get lost."

Will my children turn out normal if they miss several months of Sunday School?

Possibly not, but then, normal was never the goal.

The Greatest Moments of a Girl's Life

I sat alone in bed last night.
Dave was still downstairs and I had a moment of silence.
After a depressing day of disciplining bickering children, Dave and I proceeded to bicker for an hour before I went up to bed. Failure followed me up the stairs, it lurked behind me in the shadows of the hall. I could sense the tangible presence of evil in my bedroom as I sat there. My soul felt like an incline that Satan was scaling, an incline with too many toeholds, an easy conquer.
My body sat alert, rested, why did I feel so utterly exhausted? I had slept all day, why this lethargy of spirit? My soul was tired. For weeks I had been on guard, taunt and watching. Now, the company gone, the painful situations resolved, I collapsed internally.
I tried to pray and found my eyes roving the room, unsettled.
They landed on a picture entitled, "The Greatest Moments of a Girl's Life."

When Dave and I were on our honeymoon, I had seen this picture and loved it. It would have been awkward to travel with, so I just assumed I could get it later. Incorrect. I searched high and low for it and never could find it again. My loving husband never forgot how much I lamented not buying that picture and he kept his eyes open on ebay until it came up and he bought it. He gave it to me last week for our anniversary.
I was so blessed and delighted.
My eyes caressed the beautiful pictures that represented the "greatest moments." The engagement, the wedding day, the honeymoon, the baby's birth etc.
My smile broadened into laughter as I realized my "greatest moments" were very different from the ones represented in the picture.

The engagement was romantic, but it wasn't Dave I was engaged to first. And when that ring was ripped off my finger the loss made me howl with pain. As I writhed on the floor I said, "God, I'm going to keep trusting You even though I don't want to. I'm going to trust that You know what You're doing." And He did. That was a great moment.

The wedding day was wonderful, but more wonderful, was the moment Dave and I realized we were completely incapable of sacrificial love. We cried out to God to change our selfish hearts. We established a prayer time together. We asked God to teach us how to love like Jesus.  And he began to, right then. That was a great moment.

Having babies was delightful (I had epidurals mostly), but the moment the nurses told us that the 9 hour blood transfusion they were giving our four year old was his main hope, was much much greater. Dave and I locked eyes across the room, and in the heavy silence after the nurses left, said yes, yes God you can have Grant back if you like, he's Yours, Your will not ours. That was a great moment.
I was amused when I looked at the picture again that the last "greatest moment" was the birth of the first child. Meaning, my great moments would have been over at the ripe old age of 25. Thankfully, I am still a growing girl, with lots of great moments before me, lots more opportunities for God to work.
The thought was vaseline to my soul and I felt the oppression slipping off me. Toeholds filled in with trust.
Yes, these weeks have been difficult, but really, they were full of great moments.
Maybe not quite as picturesque....but great nonetheless.

Taste and See

Last night the kittens began their journey to cathood.
I put out a plate of tuna.
Their little noses sniffed the air and they neared the plate. One kitten clearly did not appreciate the smell and walked backwards all the way across the room, little baby tail waving high in distress.
The others lost interest in the smell and went to explore other mysteries.
I tried coaxing them to it. I tried oh-so-gently putting their faces in it. They were clearly not interested.
"I don't understand, the book said they should start eating solid food at five weeks." I complained to Dave.
Dave was swinging a pen playfully above a fuzzy grey head and didn't seem too concerned.
Just as the crease between my eyebrows was deepening to a crevasse, the idea came, strong and sure.
I ran and got the mama.
Jane walked into the parlor, gave a maternal glance around, and went straight for the plate of tuna. She ate with a will. Four weeks of nursing four babies gives one an appetite. Really, I can only imagine.
Mariette (previously known as Marius, Dave got some parts mixed up), came over and watched her mama closely. She stretched out her neck and took a tentative bite. Another, less cautious. Faster and with vigor she ate. Dave and I laughed as she literally threw herself on top of the food and devoured.
After a few minutes Emmett came over and repeated, almost exactly, the performance of his sister.
Aspen frolicked over and sniffed Emmett, then bit his ear, which was covered in food. Aspen attempted to eat her brother. But Emmett shrugged her off and she finally got the hint that she should eat the food and not him. She had a light meal, but we were satisfied.
Cosette never ate. She constantly tried to nurse as Jane fed. Jane would not let her. It was time to grow up.

This morning I talked to the kids about the kittens, about how exciting it was to watch them take that first meal. But, I also talked to them about spiritual food. What if the babies had refused to eat? They wouldn't grow and thrive into adult cats.Their growth would be stunted.
I explained that we are composed of two parts. The body, which we can measure and weigh with scales and rulers, and the soul, which God alone can comprehend the size of. I told them that there are some big men walking around with tiny little baby souls and there are small children with robust enormous souls.
Some throw themselves on God's word and devour.
Some try to take their meal off others.
Some refuse to eat.
The mama cat leads by example.
The kittens have the choice to follow....or starve.
I care about my children's physical health. I want them to be healthy and strong and vital. But more than that I care deeply about their souls. I want to see their souls stretch and reach and grow and thrive. So I lead them to the meal, eat like a mama cat nursing four babes, and watch as they take a tentative bite. I purr in satisfaction.
Purr and pray.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Cor. 4:16-18