Sweet kisses.

After an ill-fated night of tent-making in the living room with giddy little boys, the inevitable happened...Mom exploded. I exploded in a rain of verbal vomit over my children. Toby was the least to blame for my frustrations, but chose to make a rude comment at the wrong time and received the brunt of my tantrum. After brusquely tucking them into bed while trying to take calming breaths, I began to cry. I had yelled at my darling son, my sweetheart boy, and yelled until his little face twisted up with tears which he tried to hide from me. I had let my temper get the best of me and the realization made my heart bleed tears. After a minute or two, I knelt beside Toby's bed and asked him to forgive me for treating him like that. He came out from under his pillow and gave me a hug. But he didn't stop there though. He put his little arms around my neck and said, "I forgive you Mommy" and then patted my cheek. Then he gave me little kisses on my eyes and the tip of my nose and giggled. What sweet redemption. I KNEW I was forgiven by him.

Something about this interaction has captured my thoughts all day. I KNEW that Toby forgave me and because I knew that, every time I began to feel guilty about how I had treated him, I reminded myself that I had been really forgiven and I let it go. Why then, don't I feel the same way about my sins before the Lord? Why do I feel like I need to wallow in my guilt for a season before I feel free from the sin I committed? You know God wants to kiss our tears of guilt away and giggle with us in restoration. His Spirit and His love for me is as sweet and innocent as my son's love for me, yet even more so. What have I believed that has made me feel anything less than that? I don't know the answer to that yet. I pray that God gives me that fresh breath, His perspective as he beholds me. In the mean time, I will try to hold my tongue and walk in that redeeming forgiveness that was shown to me through big brown eyes, skinny little boys arms, and sweet kisses.

Ribbons, & lace, & blah, blah, blah.

I have officially entered the world of little girls...again. Seeing Annalise begin to respond to dolls and toys has made my memory bloom vividly with my childhood. I am walking around in a daze that smells like Strawberry Shortcake and Barbie hair. I remember twirling around in long skirts and putting pillowcases on my head to pretend it is either my long hair or my head covering while I am Mary, mother of Jesus. Don't all little girls pretend that they are the mother of God? Just me? Well, that fits.

I tell you what, ribbons and lace might just be the most fun thing in the world to a mother of sons who has only previously experienced small-scale explosives, foul smells, and anything bug related. Though my little girl passes gas like a locomotive, growls better than her brothers, and can blow snot a full 10 inches out her nose, she is cuddly, good-smelling, and loves to listen to me talk to her. I spend my morning with her in her high chair in the kitchen, talking and singing to her while I clean and cook. Just when I think my heart will swell up with estrogen-laced pride, I look over at her and she very stoically says, "blah, blah, blah, blah..." She always finishes her sentence with a big grin, completely oblivious to my great and wonderful wisdom that she has just dismissed. Oh well. Someday we'll have nice long chats over pretend tea and then I'll blog about all her crazy questions and sayings and try and remember the days when she couldn't even talk. At least I won't be the only one wearing a tutu around the house anymore.

Back to the keys...

I haven't sat and just pondered life with a keyboard for a LONG time. Dathan and I drove to Seattle this last week to pursue job opportunities out there and maybe some big changes for our family in the future. While driving, yes driving, there and back we had lots of time to talk about us, our family, and our place in this world and the one to come. I also had some good time to ponder my VERY full life and schedule in the mommy-seat. I switch roles like a European train station sign, constantly flipping to a new one, tick tick tick tick tick. I feed. I clean. I wipe tears. I teach. I referee. I hug. I toss. I yell. I greet. I remind. I chat. I coach. I cry. I create. I pray. I, I, I am who? In the midst of this swirl of my life, what remains constant about me? Who am I? Strip away the titles: mommy, wife, stylist, friend, sister, daughter, maid, cook... What remains true about me? I have a heart that longs to return to it's soft and safe resting place, God loves me. Just me. I don't have to strive to do, or be, anything. His love does not depend on how I look, what my parenting style is, how many chapters of the bible I read this morning, what my home looks like, if I train my children at home or send them off to school, the size of my backside. He just loves me. He delights in my laughter and cherishes each fallen tear. You know how in action movies during a really intense scene all of a sudden everything slows to a near stop, the camera spins around the room showing all sides of the situation, and then it goes slamming back into full sound and action? God's love is like that for me these days. Just a split second here, a fraction of a thought there and...comfort. The noise never changes, "MOM! He did this! Mom, can I just be with you? Waa! I need a new diaper. What time are we eating? Mom! The baby spit up! Hey, can you get this done? Can you meet me here? Can you go there?" but in the middle of it, ahhh, He loves me. Just me. I'm me.

Listen to this sweet little thing...

Before I can even blink twice I'm sure I'll be wishing that I could hear Sam's sweet little munchkin voice again instead of a man's deep resonance. I'll be thankful for this recording. This is our nightly prayers where both our boys take turns telling Jesus what they are thankful for from the day. It is always interesting to hear what comes out of their mouths. For awhile Sam was thanking the Lord for a tree everynight, no idea WHAT tree he meant, but he sure was thankful for the tree. Usually my sister gets triple blessed and sometimes I get left out... :(

On his way to bed tonight Sam continued to repeat his daily mantra, "I not ready for bed, I not go to bed!" but if you listen close near the end, he finally says, "OK, now I'm ready." So cute. Enjoy hearing my sweet baby.

Beautiful Trembling Tenors

For my mother's Christmas gift, my dad got her an iPod. Yes, my mom has now officially crossed into the 20th century (not a typo!). (Sorry mom, if you are reading this!) Well, for our part of her gift I miraculously got my children to sing some songs that I recorded onto her iPod so we could play it through speakers on Christmas morning to her. She loved it and plays it for all her friends and her music students are already benefitting from her wealth of flute music.

The real poignancy of it for me was in the replay of my children singing the doxology, long after they had gone to bed. To hear their sweet, trembling, tenor voices praising the Lord, it brings tears right to the surface. "Praise God from who all blessings flow. Praise Him all creatures here below! Praise Him above, ye heavenly host! Praise Father, Son, & Holy Ghost. Amen." Of course, the words were all in a jumble with swahili sounding accents and varying degrees of loudness and softness, but so sweet.

When the Pharisees are scolding Jesus and his disciples for allowing the children to run through the temple shouting, "Praise to the Son of David!" Jesus replies to them that "From the lips of infants you have ordained praise..." and that if he required them to be quiet even the rock would cry out in praise. I don't think that there is a sound more beautiful than the sound of children singing to Jesus. There is a truth that is screamed out from their gentle, trembling voices that the Lord is to be Praised! The innocence and purity of children's hearts praising God out of simplicity and joy, bring me to my knees. I know the burdens of the world are waiting at the door of their hearts, a little in school maybe, a little from the media, a little from me maybe. I want to sit back and listen to them sing, sweet and true, and hold tight to their innocence a little longer. Oh! How the Lord loves these little ones! If I can feel such love, how much more must he?

Believe it or not, I'm back to writing...

Well, it's been a while since I have tickled the keys purely for the sake of downloading my brain. It seems that these days stretch me too far and too thin to have much left for pondering. Dathan is out with the boys - apparently a combination of speed/crack/caffiene has been circulating through our air vents. Funny thing is though, only little boys between the ages of 2 1/2 and 4 years old can feel the effects! After question #302 pronounced with no intelligible "r" or "l" sounds came spilling out of Sam, and after he put the chair upon my right foot and scrambled up upon it for the third time while following me around the kitchen, I decided to retreat to my office. So here I am, what to say?

I'm pondering the difference between my life and that of my younger sister. We both live full lives - and envy the pleasures and simplicities of each others. She longs for a home full of children sounds - to have children around to push her buttons continuously and whatnot. I envy her coming home to a house that is exactly the way she left it - no Elmo music to be found anywhere, nobody asking for their bottom to be wiped clean - gourmet food ingredients begging to be turned into masterpieces that no body will wretch and gag over. I suppose we should trade responsibilities for a week to gain perspective...Maybe I just need a vacation...

Would my life be empty without the constant refining of wondering if I can be/do/act/achieve better? Be a kinder mommy? Find a new recipe that everyone likes? Strech my food budget a little further? Work just a little harder? In a word, YES. What kind of a mommy would I become if I DIDN'T cry and stretch to be better at patience and kindness? The rewards are full of sticky honey kisses and little arms barely reaching around my neck. How can I push myself to achieve better without the challenge needed to make ends meet and find foods that nourish bodies and palates? When I hear, "Mommy, you are the world's greatestest cooker ever!" I find I can go a little further, work a little harder. Is my life full? YES. Am I tired? YES.

Does the Lord cry over us the way we cry over the pain of our children? I think He does. I don't understand how He works - or why most of the time, but I am thankful for the blessing of this new perspective of how He loves me. I sometimes fall into the trap of thinking that he is punishing me for a bad choice or attitude. But then I watch my children do something that I have warned, and warned, and warned them not to do (ex: stick a hairpin in the electrical outlet) and I watch them get burned. Do I kiss their owies and treat their wounds? Yes. Do I stop them when they get down from my lap and pick up that darn hairpin again? No. (Here we go again!) I know that they are not going to learn this lesson from simply listening to my words - or they would have by now. Why should I expect God to save me from a consequence I have brought upon myself through steadfastly ignoring His reminders? Does He love me less because He didn't save me from the circumstance that produced so much pain? No way. Burns hurt. But I pray that I may never forget that they are branding my heart as His - refining me towards more holy and grace filled living. I hope my children can understand this when they grow towards maturity. I pray that their little souls know the depth of love surrounding them. I pray that they will one day walk humbly with their God...AND remember that their mommy is the greatestest cooker ever...

this totally cracked me up - it will cheer you up all
day long. Click on the box and it will direct you to
the website that has this video on it. Do it! It is
so funny.

Annalei's Quilt

Here is my latest creation: my good friend from college, Naomi, had a baby girl last September. Well, I finally got it together enough to finish the quilt I made for her daughter, Annalei. I don't get to do many projects that involve pink so this one was especially fun.

Back to Work!!

I have just completed my third week at SALON ESSENTIALS as a hairstylist. I haven't made any money as yet - but I love the job. The Salon has an entirely different feel than any salon that I have worked in before. Each stylist works as their own boss - we just pay rent on our space - and that seems to diffuse the competetion and general nastiness that happens between stylists at other salons. The salon owner, Sally, also has a great attitude and the environment seems hugely shaped by her. It is hard to leave my boys so often - I have had to shift my perspective about being a mommy. There are benefits and drawbacks to it all. I enjoy not having to tell anybody at all that I am going to the potty and not to open the door or hit anybody while I am in there. But I miss their dope-y from sleep, sweet ways in the morning - and hearing (10 times in a row) "night night mommy, i LOOOOVEE YYYOOOUUU!" at bedtimes.

I forgot how much I loved being a hairstylist. Helping people feel good, not only about their unique character, but the beauty that God has given them on the outside. I only help them see it too. I LOVE that part of my job. It is hard not to color my own hair every week though - to the horror of my husband, who loves me "natural" (natural...what?!?!!?). Anyway I thought I would post my "professional" picture that appears on my business card - thanks to Reeta - so you all can see that I am not always a sweats-clad, make-up from two days ago, frantically runing behind two tornadoes of activity mom. By the way, Hi, Amy.

A deflated balloon and a floppy giraffe...

I don't think that my heart can swell with love any more than in those early morning moments when I am greeted by a sleepy eyed, grinning little boy, draging behind him the two most important things in his whole world: a deflating pink baloon (bobbing along on the ground) and his floppy stuffed giraffe. Sam has been sick for the last week. All disgust with vomit and diarrhea aside, the moments of comfort have been TREASURES. He usually doesn't sit for very long at all, but in his sickness, he has sought out the comfort of being rocked to sleep and generally being held as much as possible. When something is as fleeting and precious as a little boys' heart - it is so wonderful to be able to put your arms out and relish holding this little one close. Isn't it a captivating thought that the Lord desires our hearts this way? My heart is a treasure to the Lord as my sons hearts are a treasure to me...

I am having a brown day today. Not brown like muddy, but comfy, soft brown. Toned down. I spent the morning at an art class with the boys and my mother. While we herded paint flinging little boys around the brightly colored and loud class room - I remembered how much I loved art class as a child. The smells of fresh tempera paint, old molding clay, warm crayons, and drying Elmer's glue brought me back to a much earlier day. I remembered how my little heart swelled with anticipation at what kind of thing I could create next and how proud I was of myself. The Lord has been gently prodding, reminding me that my dear little sons have the same hearts as I did, tender and dewy with innocence. What a heavy burden of responsibility and yet lightness of delight in being a mother to sons. I am relieved to know that it is the Lord that shapes and molds them - I am simply reminded to tread lightly, little hearts are looking to me to see God's face and feel His comfort and pleasure.

Welcome to our blog spot! We are new to this and hopefully it will work out great. I hope to update our pictures as soon as I have some new ones to show. Keep checking back...