He's Five and I'm Still Alive

When Avonlea turned five she asked if she could go to Disneyland, this being one of all children's inalienable rights, we said yes. Being the short-sighted people we are, Dave and I went one step further and said that all our children could pick where they wanted to go on their fifth birthday. We just kinda assumed that they would all want to go to Disneyland. So, we were caught off guard a bit when a year and a half later Grant turned five and told us he wanted to go to Hawaii. Hmmm.....
And I was a little more than concerned when Rowan's fifth birthday approached and he was heavily leaning toward taking us all to Nevada. Now...I have nothing against Nevada, but Rowan's sole attraction to it was it's shape outlined on his placemat, and that's almost impossible to actually experience. So....we encouraged him to think about other options...like Hawaii.
So motivated by the fact that he loves the ocean, and by the knowledge that his three pretty cousins live there, he consented.
We gave him a police uniform for his present and he made several citizen's arrests. He blew his whistle at all the crosswalks when it was time to go. He lingered by police cars, vowing to save all his birthday money so that he could buy one when he grew bigger.

I am a blessed woman. I love these boys.

Dessert!

His birthday dinner was at the cheesecake factory in Waikiki with his cousins.

This birthday marks so much more than just the passage of time and the acknowledgement of physical growth. Rowan gave his heart to Jesus this year and I've witnessed with my own eyes the Spirit's work in his life. He's learned to think before speaking, to pray for others, to check his anger by counting to ten, to ask questions and ponder answers. He's become a helpful son and a caring brother. He still gets into mischief, he still sighs when his will is thwarted, but he's learning, and so am I.

I'm so thankful for Rowan.

I'm so thankful I didn't have to go to Nevada.

Potty Talk

If you've known me very long, you know that I hate poop. Hate it. I hated changing my babies diapers and potty trained them at an absurdly young age. Yet, I know that it happens, that it is a natural, normal function, and I deal with it. However, I do not enjoy it, nor do I find it humorous in any way.
Crass joking is a sure fire way to get a very dirty look from me. Part of the reason I dislike that type of joking is because it seems to perpetuate itself. It's easy to begin, hard to stop, and very quickly gets out of hand. Because of this, it's not allowed in our home. However, with four children and several dozens of other children that come in and out of this home, it sometimes very innocently happens.
For example, Dave was telling the kids a story about when he and his friend Jake got a frisbee and some apricots stolen from them. The point of the story was that people are more important than things and they prayed that whoever took them would be blessed by them. Dave said, "Yeah, we just imagined a couple of bums at the park playing frisbee and eating apricots." His conclusion was met with down cast eyes and silence. Finally Rowan said, "Don't be crass Daddy." Dave looked at me in bewilderment. I started laughing because I realized that the only definition of "bum" that they knew was "bottom, rear, etc." I told him to tell it again and try saying "hobo" instead! Grant was visibly relieved that Daddy wasn't being gross but said he was going to have trouble getting the picture of, "bums catching frisbees in their cracks," out of his head.

Then today, Rowan was cutting pieces of a hen out to glue on his paper. I said, "okay Rowan, let's glue on your body now." The room became intensely silent. I looked up and my eyes caught Rose's shocked expression as she said, "Mommy, Rowan's potty is glued on!?" ("potty" is the term we use to refer to "privates")
I explained that I used a "b" for body and that we were creating the little red hen, but that comment started the downfall. A few wings later, Avonlea said, "Mommy I just read something SO interesting can I read it to you?" I was still up to my beak in glue but absently agreed. She proceeded, "Wood chucks breed 20-40 times a minute." I put the glue on the desk. "Really." She continued, "Yeah, but even more when they're excited!" My mind whirled. I knew about rabbits of course, but I had never heard about woodchucks and what the heck did she mean by excited? She goes on, "Yeah but if they're really relaxed they can just do it like once every five minutes." And we've been trying to have kittens for a year! How much do wood chucks go for? My mind is reeling in possibilities. Avonlea looked at my open mouth gaze and said, "Mom, I said breathe."
"Ohhhhhhhh breathe."
See what I mean about things going downhill quickly. Later today, at ballet class, one of my little dancers had stomach issues and the red flags of her condition were waving wildly, so to speak. Every time we leaned forward in our stretch the room reverberated with cannon accent.
And I had to laugh.

(Please note the distinction between a cute little tooter in pink tulle and a big hairy man cutting loose the bonds of propriety.)

Hawaii

I tend to travel with one goal in mind. God often has a different one. After a brief tussle I give in and take what He has to offer, and it's always an adventure.

Dave came home from Dallas on Sunday after an exhausting trip moving his friend there. We flew to Hawaii on Monday morning. Dave also got sick that day. Tuesday he got a terrible sunburn. I mentally constructed a post entitled, "When Paradise Isn't".

I sat at the beach for hours and hours, and at night when Dave and the kids went to bed at seven, I stared into the darkness and thought, and thought, and thought.

I thought about this life I lead and I evaluated how much of it is lived for self as opposed to what is lived for God. I thought about all the beautiful scenery before me and how it is a reflection of the God who created it. I thought about my favorite scenery of all, my family. They can stand in front of anything and make it beautiful.

I couldn't help but think about old Hawaii, what it would have looked like, smelled like, sounded like. I could look at the highway and imagine it away, and picture instead an old trail through the wind blown grasses, the roar of breakers unceasing, the heady scent of flowers.

I thought about family and friends, and those I consider both. My children's wealth of cousins is a great joy to me.

I thought about a woman's role in ministry after her baby/pregnancy days are done. I thrashed out the desire all women have, to be used in ministry, and their insecurity how best to pursue that.

I thought about my marriage and how my world turns upside down when my husband ails. It is so much easier to face life with his loving, giving heart by my side. When he was in his tired/sick/sunburned fog, I could barely face the day, even in Hawaii. My prayers were half moan, half battle-hymn, and I prayed much.

On Saturday, 5 l-o-n-g days later, he started feeling better. My smile returned. The vertical line between my eyebrows disappeared. I stopped thinking quite so much.

I had different adventures in mind for this trip. But God took me to a place where I could think, pray, reflect on His creation, and ponder my place in His work. I had my sister-in-law and my husband (the last 5 days) to stimulate thought and His beauty to stimulate praise.

And really, it came down to what it always does, all roads of thought landed me at the same destination; that in Him, I have everything I need. That when I seek I always find, when I knock the door is opened. Sometimes I'm just asked to knock in unexpected places. Like Hawaii.

Joy in the Morning

(Grant was doing a photography assignment today and caught Rose and I reading Teaching the Trivium)

I woke up this morning and put on joy as a garment.

Dave and I were up and down until 4:30AM last night. We were waiting for someone who was coming over, waiting for someone who needed us. I finally fell asleep from 4:30AM to 7:30 AM and awoke groggy and selfish.

But the thing was, as much as I wanted to lay there and grovel....I couldn't. These God-words kept whispering, "a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair" (Isa. 61:3) and "the joy of the Lord is your strength." (Neh. 8:10)

And I put it on, pulled it to me and slipped into it. The joy of the Lord fit perfectly.

All the mornings, of all the days, of all the weeks, of all the months, of this summer and fall, I've sought each morning to turn my eyes to Him first thing, to spend time in His presence immediately. And this morning, when I struggled to gain perspective, He was there, reaching down the hand that I needed, putting out my garment for the day. He found me soul-naked and He dressed me.

The things that greet me today, whether it be my mother screaming into my answering machine that there's a snake in her kitchen "a real one" (as if that pitch could have been obtained through a plastic one), or a note to Santa on my desk asking for a baby because the asker has given up on asking God for one, or another close-call in my tiara, or a drama of sharpie meets Persian rug acted out by Rose, whatever comes.....

I am dressed for the occasion.

The Weight

It's startling, really. How little we know when we become parents. Who knew these beautiful, lusty-lunged babies would turn into people?

Who knew that little limbs would stretch and my gumby child become a young woman, a young man?

They grow and I grow, but I'm still not the perfect mom and sometimes I get angry at my children because they make that very apparent.

Today was a normal day for me. I had to be at the church at 7:15AM to sing on worship team. I got sick (stomach) at 6:40AM. I finally ran out the door at 7:05AM, drove like the dickens, and ran into church....leaving the parking lights on. Second service I realized what I'd done and that the battery was now dead. I peeked into Rose's class on the way to find Dave for help, and wondered briefly why her dress was too small and on backwards (Dave dressed her).

Dave said he'd jump the car for me and I stood up on stage third service and sang while the doors were open in the back and my husband was jumping the car right in front of the church. Kinda made worship difficult. I died several small deaths as I saw people stopping to talk to him and I imagined I could hear him saying, "Yeah my wife left the lights on again! At least she didn't put diesel in the gas tank this time."

Then I started thinking about Rose in her backward dress. One time when Dave dressed her for church I picked her up from class and she was wearing hot pink sequined high heels from the dress-up box. When questioned Dave replied, "How was I supposed to know those weren't her shoes?" So all nursery and toddler helpers in the church know that I'm a less than ideal mom.

By the time I got home to mom's house after church I felt like an utter failure. I laid down on her couch and closed my eyes.

One by one my children came. They didn't say much, just laid right on top of me.

There's a story in the Bible, about Elisha I believe, who laid on a dead boy and breathed life back into him. That was how I felt laying there. Like God was breathing His life back into me.

They were heavy and they reminded me that my responsibility is weighty but completely do-able with the help of God.

Under their weight, I fell asleep. A deep, healing sleep, that revived and restored my ability to laugh at myself and my drama.

When I awoke, they had flown, their laughter floated to me through the garden.

I'll never be a perfect mom, but it appears I am loved regardless, and I am so thankful.

Blank

The world revolves, the autumn progresses, and our schedule bulges around the waist familiarly.

This morning the Sunday School classes at church all moved their students to the next grade. Posy moved to 3/4's, Rowan to Preschool, etc. I took Rowan to his new classroom and he was instantly surrounded by teachers, "What's your name?" "Does he have any allergies?" "I think I had him in VBC class." Unfamiliar voices, unfamiliar faces. Rowan silent. Persistent voice with pen in hand, waiting, "What's your first name?" Silence. Rowan turns his head slowly towards me, his face is blank, utterly expressionless, "What's my first name again mommy?"

I say it and break the spell, "Rowan, your name's Rowan."

A smile engulfs his words, "Oh that's right!"

The fruit doesn't fall far from the tree.

Dave's blanked up on me a couple of times. One time was when we passed the Canadian border to attend Mike and Chrissy's wedding. Dave didn't expect to be closely questioned by border patrol, so he was caught off guard, and he went blank. The check-guard asked him who was with him, it was just Avonlea and I in the back seat, and I waited for him to say so. Silence. Finally he turned his head and looked at us with the same face I saw on Rowan, I whispered, "Your wife and your daughter." He smiled and relayed the info. We were told to pull over for further inspection!

As much as Rowan is just like Dave he is also just like me. I never blank about my name or any other answer that I can glibly give, but I blank about who I am in Christ. I'm caught off-guard by a question, a situation, and I'm silent....or not. I give a reaction where a Christ-child should have given compassion, or prayer, or truth. I forget my name and later when the moment has passed, I remember, and I writhe.

Life will inevitably hold those moments, I just pray I learn to look up sooner and soul-whisper, "What's my name again?"

Because when I do, He always breaks the spell with His answer, "You're Annie, and you're a child of Mine."

May my blankness, my lack, be only an opportunity for Him to fill and write His name on me, and through me, on others.


PS Wearing my tiara also helps me remember who I am. It is very difficult to yell at your children with a tiara on. Unfortunately I forgot I had it on last week and I wore it to the library. I kept marveling at how friendly our community was, because everyone was smiling at me! Sigh.

Soul Eyes Blink

I woke my family up at 4am on Friday. On purpose. We had a plane to catch at 6:40am. Anyone who knows me knows by now that I pack last minute and usually forget several necessities, which we manage to live without, proving that they weren't actually necessities. It's part of the fun. Rose wearing Rowan's underwear the whole trip didn't spoil her enjoyment of our time a bit. Avonlea was intensely happy that I forgot the hairbrush (yes, again).

We flew to San Diego because Dave was helping with the Luis Palau Festival there. We drove directly there from the airport so that he could help with set up. I hung out with the kids at the playground, steps from the beach. Even with the four a.m. wake-up, the kids were jubilant and played hard. I tried to look around me and take in the beauty, but it was difficult. I'm used to grey skies and muted colors. Here, was turquoise water, a brilliant blue sky, golden sand, bright, hot sun, emerald grass, and bushes afire with profusions of flowers. The colors blew me away.

The festival the next day drew about 50,000 people. People from all walks of life, all ages. Colorful people. We watched the bmx shows, skateboarding, freestyle motocross, puppet shows, etc. There were games and concerts and everywhere, Jesus preached. Christ proclaimed. The little girls next to us at the puppet show raised their hands to accept Christ. The stage filled with people committing or re-committing their lives after a biker gave his testimony. Churches of all denominations had volunteered to help respond to people and the volunteers were as colorful as the crowd.
The people had the same effect on me as the scenery did the day before. I could barely take it blinkingly in. The beauty of this world, the beauty of God's people. Eye-poppingly different, but never drab.

We were able to spend a day with Capernwray friends. Dave and Mike had been roommates, and they prayed together for their future wives. Chrissy and I had been involved in scandalous doings and pranks together, we prayed we wouldn't get caught.

Our kindred children.

Rosy is now asking me to get her hair like Emma's. Maybe for Christmas?

When the three busy days of festival and friends were over, I turned my gaze back to my own troop and it's captain. Again the sheer vibrancy of their colors took my breath away. These wonderful, witty blessings from God are eye-blinkingly bright.

The second night in our condo on the beach Dave and Avonlea were playing tag. He chased her far down the shore, and as he closed in, she turned and dove into an open sliding glass door, thinking it was ours. It wasn't. Dave was in hysterics on the beach but the laughter subsided in concern when she didn't come back out. Avonlea had run into someone else's living room and found a bald guy watching TV. She proceeded to hang out, wondering what this bald guy was doing in our room. Finally the guy stuck his head out the door and saw Dave, "Is she yours?" he asked. Dave ushered away a little girl colored very red.

We laughed together and saw the brightness of this life. The turquoise of laughter, the brilliant blue of friendship, the golden blessing of family, the bright, hot light of Christ, the emerald jewel of creation, and bushes afire with the goodness of God.

The colors blow me away.