Modeling

I awakened too late.

I leapt from the bed and called to my husband on my way to the bathroom - "It's almost eight!"

It just went downhill from there. I couldn't find anything small enough to wear that fit nicely over my little belly, but my old clothes were too snug. Children moved too slowly to get out of my way, and many shoulders were pushed to the side as I moved from one end of the house to the other, packing a diaper bag, rounding up Bibles, scarfing a bowl of cereal. Eliana's hair would not cooperate, and I redid it three times, the last being right before we rushed out the door at ten 'til nine.

During the entire car trip, I groused at everyone for something or other. Even as I spoke and was met with silence, I knew I was crushing spirits, and not helping my family enter into a worshipful spirit; but I did not stop.

And when we sat down to sing and pray and listen, my sons began to (finally) react to my attitude. I repeatedly reminded them to sit up, face forward, follow the words and sing; all things they already know to do in that environment. I hissed and grabbed, and my exasperation only mounted as the lesson began but my husband stayed in his seat at the front of the room, for he was leading worship this day. Leading.

I looked to my left at Corban's teary eyes, and to my right at Micah's slumped shoulders. I remembered Eliana's deliberate disobedience moments earlier when I asked her to sit and she stood instead, eyeing me warily.

I was not leading.

I was demanding.

I was reacting.

I was unloving.

My spirit in the fifty minutes before we left for worship had shown my children how one behaves when things are not going her way. I did not show them self-control, nor did I listen to that Voice, the one that tried to whisper in my ear...Beloved, feed...love...lead. I shook it off and charged recklessly ahead, and now I saw the fruits of my actions.

Who feels like obeying a Mama who asks you to use self-control and sit still, when she doesn't use it to calm herself? Who feels like obeying a Mama when she asks you to worship with a smile while she sits, straight-mouthed, ready to pounce on a mistake? Who can follow the leading of someone who does not follow the leading of her own Master?

My anger is rarely, if ever, righteous. It can always be traced back to me; to a failing on my part, a lacking. It is difficult to swallow, yet it is true.

I pulled boys to my side, Eliana safely penned in at our feet, and soothed their hurt with pats and gentle squeezes. I turned to Galatians and read again of fruit, and breathed prayers for forgiveness, seeing clearly the fruit of *me* this morning.

I will remember. Though I desire to awaken early every day and move things forward in a good way for my family, I suspect this may happen again; that I might sleep too long and be in a rush. But instead of taking it out on my children, or even myself, I will try to model His behaviour, so that in modeling after me, my children are modeling Him as well.

A Husband's Perspective

I thought I was just being proactive. He thinks I'm cute. You be the judge!

Have a wonderful weekend, friends!

Dreaming

I shoot bolt upright in bed. Husband sleeps deep, even after I poke his back to share my dream. "Kevin?" I whisper loudly.

No response.

Oh, well. I lie back on my pillow and smile.

Grilled cheese and peanut butter... mmmmmm!

It is the second night I have had this dream. I think of chunky peanut butter spread thick on my homemade bread, the butter sizzling and the cheese oozing off of the corners, and then...

And then I gag.

Coming further out of my dream-state, I realize how truly yucky this actually sounds, now that I'm awake. And I'm glad for husband's deep sleep, for I do not wish to hear the endless heckling over this one...

I'll stick with my grits, thank you.

I guess I'll be making grilled peanut butter and cheese sandwiches only in my dreams.

Children's Book Monday

Toes Are to Tickle
by Shen Roddie
Illustrated by Kady MacDonald Denton










This has been a favorite bedtime story of both my boys; I rediscovered it in a box of books this past week and now Eliana has joined their ranks.

A sweet little family acts out this short book for us - taking us through their day and all the things they do, besides teaching us what all of these things are for!

We love to say the words together... bread is for more jam please!... clothes are for putting on - and pulling off!... a mirror is for making faces... Our favorite line always results in a tickle fight that takes a few minutes... Toes are to... Tickle! Riotous laughter as we chase each other's toes for a little tickle, then compose ourselves and finish the story.

The watercolors are bright, the pictures captivating; every child will relate to the antics of the children - from the clothes they try on to the messes they make to simple delight in the beauty of nature - flowers to smell, dandelions to blow away in the wind, puddles to jump in!

And no worries, parents - the very end of the book shows the children in their beds, giving Mommy one last hug, one more kiss goodnight - it calms things down nicely as I scoop my Eliana into my arms and she wraps her own around my neck for a hug and a kiss.

Happy Reading!

Feels Like Hope

I know why they call this quickening.

It is my heart, pounding ahead as I laugh and press my hand to my chest, willing it to quiet so I may feel movement again...

It is my breath, coming faster and faster, husband laughing from his pillow at my breathless anticipation of another flutter...

It is the thankfulness racing through my body, filling my veins, exploding from my lips in praise to the Maker of this little one, He Who sustains this new life, Who sustains me as I carry it...

For you are alive! You move within me. You respond to the food that I eat with somersaults and kicks. You react to my sleepiness and come awake, somehow knowing that I will thrill to the movement, no matter how tired I am.

The awakening begins with me, brought by the joy that is *you*.

I know why they call this quickening.

Riding With Micah

Missing our old home just a bit tonight, and remembering...

"Mama, is that God's hot breath, do you think, blowing in our faces?"

I blew a wisp of hair out of my eyes and wiped away some drops of sweat with the back of my hand. Smiling at Micah, I thought for a moment.

It was seven-thirty in the evening, and my chance to have some quiet time alone had been foiled when Micah overheard me talking to my husband about taking a bike ride. The baby was asleep, and the evening was cooling down (a bit), so the quiet country roads were calling to me.

"Oh, Mama, can I go with you? Please?"

At my quick, "No, Micah," his face fell, and his neck hung low. I glanced at my husband over the top of Micah's cowlick, and he smiled and tipped his head, giving me a look that said, "Why not?"

And so, there we were; our helmets strapped snugly, exposed skin covered in bug spray, with a half hour to roam the countryside together.

The kildeer shot from their hiding places in the gravel at the sides of the roads and called frantically, flying ahead to distract us from their nests. A deer bounded across the field to our right, and we skidded to a stop to watch it disappear over the hill.

In the midst of all this beauty the smell of cows, warm grass, and fresh growing mint were carried past our noses by a stifling wind.

The breath of God?

It was relentless, carrying the bodies of tiny gnats into our faces, catching in our teeth. It was stifling, letting up only when we turned our faces to catch a cool breath. It was unbearable at times, when the heat of the ground and manure joined the wind and assaulted us, burning our throats and eyes.

I told Micah this story, how Elijah stood in the presence of God. How the Lord sent signs through nature, but He did not inhabit it. How at that precise moment, simply a still, small voice denoted His presence.

"So maybe, Micah, God sent this hot wind. Perhaps He is not in it - but can you hear His voice?"

"Well," he pedaled slower to stay by my side. "Not really. I think it would be easier to hear Him in the shade!"

We laughed together and increased our speed to reach the grove of trees ahead of us.

And sure enough, a cooler breeze awaited.

We listened for a moment, one foot on the ground, resting our forearms on the handlebars. "Yup," Micah affirmed. "I can hear Him now. But you know, I think He was in the hot wind, too. I don't think it's so bad if He's there, too, do you?"

I thought of all the moments in the past few days that had seemed unbearable, how my space was stifling me with all the responsibilities of being a mama, and how relentless God seemed as He sent trials my way to strengthen my quick prayers for patience and energy.

But it didn't seem so bad when I remembered that He inhabits my days, and my heart.

As we traveled the road home which, by the way, happened to blow with a wind more blistering than soothing, we thanked God for both.

It is only the scorching wind that causes us to turn for cool refreshment.

And there He is again.

(Originally posted in the summer of 2007 - from my archives at CWO's Internet Cafe)

Children's Book Monday

Letting Swift River Go
by Jane Yolen
Illustrated by Barbara Cooney

I keep finding new (to me!) Barbara Cooney books, and this time her illustrations are paired with the incomparable Jane Yolen- how thrilled I was to find this quiet book on our last library visit! I proceeded to pull seven other Jane Yolen's from the shelves afterwards- if you live in my area and noticed the shortage, I will return them this week! (sheepish laugh)

Some things we love about both author's books are the details of real places- in this book, the place is Quabbin Reservoir in Massachusetts. Based on true events that occured between the years of 1927 and 1946, Yolen and Cooney bring to beautiful life the surroundings and decisions made during those years.

In a low-lying valley called Swift River, towns are filled with folks whose parents and grandparents have lived there all their lives. Through the eyes of Sally Jane, we meet up with her friends, Georgie Warren and Nancy Vaughn, sleeping out under the stars and listening to the trains starting and stopping along Rabbit Run, the backyard maples waving overhead.

Throughout the seasons in Swift River, Yolen paints vivid pictures with her words...Later, in March, we put buckets up on all the maples, dipping our fingers down into the sap and tasting the thin sweetness... Cooney, as always, paint vivid pictures literally; two friends and a cousin stand in the twilight in their summer nightgowns, holding hands over jars twinkling with fireflies, Mama standing nearby, the lights sparkling from their house on the hill.

Everything changes when men visit Swift River with the sad story of their city, Boston, and how much it needed water. The residents agree that their valley, with it's good, clear, cold, clean water could be traded for money, new houses, a better life. And so it is voted to drown their towns.

Now six-year-old Sally Jane must watch as graves are moved, as the governer sends his "woodpeckers" to clear the trees, and then, finally, homes are bulldozed or moved to other towns. Her friends scatter, and the town is unrecognizable as Winsor Dam and the Goodnough Dike are built over her memories.

We grew quiet as each page turned, the magnitude of Swift River's decision settling heavily on us. When Sally Jane returned years later and rowed out over the town below with her father, I choked up as I read the final words and was reminded of how difficult change really is.

Corban asked, "Why didn't they fight it? Why did they just let them do that?" It's true, the town quietly acquiesced that the decision to be drowned was all for the best. I once read a quote somewhere that said, "When progress is made, a price has been paid". No blame was laid, no anger expressed. We talked together of the better life this provided for not only the Bostonians, but the residents of Swift River as well, and this seemed to soothe my boy's hurting hearts.

It ends well, fellow readers- Sally Jane learns an old lesson, finally, that her mama spoke into her life years before.

I rattled on rather long in this review- but that's how much we loved it! It is difficult to describe to you how wonderful this book is without giving away everything- perhaps you should check it out for yourselves?

Happy Reading!

Happy Mother's Day!

Nine

How could this be? Our firstborn turned nine today; I peeked as he led the dinner prayer and marveled at the beginnings of a chiseled jaw, the no-longer-little-boy fingers clasping mine. When did he go from round baby to young man?

We walked behind him yesterday on a family hike; the army rucksack he received from Papa and Nana for his birthday hung on his back, his big black tennis shoes leaving manly footprints in the dust we walked upon after him. Suddenly, Eliana broke free from my hand and raced ahead to clasp his, and they walked this way for... forever, it seemed. I lamented not having brought the camera, but chose instead to carve the moment into my heart, to pray over the protective spirit he so naturally possesses. To thank God for his wonderful character qualities, and to be prayerful over the rest of his life as well.

It is our deepest, most heartfelt prayer that Corban- all of our children- will desire to emulate Jesus in everything. For now, at nine, he struggles with some of the same bad habits other boys his age do, and we are praying for diligence as his keepers to watch over these things as he draws closer to manhood, closer to the baptism he so desires this year.

Thank you for making us laugh, making us think, making us praise the Father, Corban! Happy birthday, young man. We love you so much- and so does Jesus!

(The song playing, "Something Beautiful" by the Newsboys, is Corban's favorite)

Not Merely Surviving (*updated)

I'm here. And I am most definitely doing well!

We moved, and so all semblance of my carefully ordered life was packed away somewhere and I have yet to find it. I cannot grasp my precious schedule- it slips through my fingers like the ribbons of packing paper I've saved to wash my windows. (That's right. I still have not washed my windows. Well, I did the front living room and the dining room. Those are the ones our company see the most...)

As much as the morning sickness has found me over the toilet, with concerned pigtails peeping around the corner... "Mama? Need medicine?"... as often as the exhaustion has prevailed and my bed was chosen over school... as busy as the days have been settling into a new, larger home and realizing there is a whole downstairs I now have to keep clean... company coming and going almost constantly since we moved... as overwhelming as all of this seems while I type it, I simply cannot refer to these past months as merely survival. Merely surviving does not include such gifts as I have received and for which I have sent praise winging heavenward...

Some highlights:

A heartbeat. A first visit to our midwife at nearly thirteen weeks brought a frighteningly familiar result as she, at first, searched for the heartbeat to no avail. But after much shifting and prodding, that beautiful sound poured out of the speaker as I covered my face and wept. I've been longing to hear that precious *whoosh-whooshing since August... (click to hear a snippet of the moment...)

A two-year-old who is speaking so that I can understand her... just when did that happen? Another Letter to Eliana coming soon...

A trip with my husband to the Pepperdine Bible Lectures... just he and I; time to cuddle, talk, and learn together. I'm still pondering being the message... Living authentically.

My family traveling five hours to spend the week with our children so that their lives would be as little disrupted as possible while we were away... school hours, zoo hours, park hours... and precious Nana and Papa hours... such a gift.

So much more, but as always, I have not the energy. I have, however, been rejoicing with you, thanking with you, dreaming with you, learning with you, praying with you and for you... although I have not been able to stop by for long.

I'm going to creep back in slowly... there. I said it. Now I won't be able to stop writing! I hope.

Love to you, friends.


(Some photos of our time away, taken by my lovely sister, Beth)

A Mother's Heart Knows

I almost forgot, in my haste to slip away, to share with you a precious book I've received.

A Mother's Heart Knows, by Margaret McSweeney, has laid on the bedside table with my Bible this past week. As I've paged through, engrossed in the photographs accompanying such simple, exquisite words, I've asked for the grace to truly have that mother's heart. We women are blessed with it, all of us, but we don't all truly embrace it, nor do even we who embrace it use it, and gift it to it's full potential. From sensing our children's needs to guarding against greed, the book is such an exhortation and an encouragement.

My favorite page? A mischevious little girl stands on a stool at the bathroom sink, her bobbed hair swinging as she looks over her shoulder with a grin... A mother's heart knows when to knock on the door... "How do you do that?" my sons always want to know. I tell them it is God's prompting in my heart, as He watches over them better than I ever could...

How beautiful that all royalty proceeds from this book go to WINGS (Women In Need Growing Stronger) and a student missionary scholarship fund. WINGS is a non-profit organization that provides a domestic violence shelter for women and their children in addition to transitional housing and programs.

Margaret McSweeney lives with her husband and two daughters in a Chicago suburb. Her book, A Mother’s Heart Knows, was published by Thomas Nelson in 2005. Go Back and Be Happy, a co-authored book, will be published by Lion Hudson in July 2008. Margaret has been featured on Greg Wheatly’s “Prime Time America,” TLN’s “Aspiring Women,” and LeSea’s “The Harvest Show.” Margaret writes freelance articles for The Daily Herald, the largest suburban Chicago newspaper. Notable interviews include Wolfgang Puck, Thomas Kinkade, Susan Branch and Dr. John Gottman. Margaret also wrote a feature article for crosswalk.com. With a master’s degree in international business, Margaret became a vice president in the corporate finance division of a New York City bank and worked there from 1986-1993. Supporting charitable causes is important to Margaret. For the past five years, she has served on the board of directors for WINGS, an organization that helps abused women and their children get a new start in life.

In honor of Mother's Day, Margaret would love to hear and share your favorite story about your mother (or someone who is like a mother to you). To enter the contest go here and share your story to win one of two spa baskets! She will be posting the stories (with your permission of course) on her blog. And if you leave a comment on this post at her site, you will be entered into a drawing to win a copy of A Mother's Heart Knows for your very own.

You will love it.

Focus...

I've got a busy couple of weeks ahead, so I'm signing off for a bit...

Please continue to read your favorite children's books and post reviews- when I return, I'll provide an opportunity to link them!

Enjoy the rest of this beautiful April, dear reader!

Micah

(Translation: Sidebar: Micah's Diary, written by Micah Hooper. Dear Diary, I hope we get a baby girl in our family, I and my brother and my mom and my dad and my sister.)

Would you like to know why he wants a girl? Why, that would make the teams even for snowball fights, of course- three girls versus three boys, including Mama and Daddy!

The boy brings us delight with his desires and logic.

Nightly he prays for this, and nightly we follow his prayer with whispers of contentment - what will be will be; we gladly accept this *gift* with grateful hearts.

Children's Book Monday - Library Tips

Library day! Do these words evoke excitement in your heart, or exhaustion? I must admit, there are still exciting library days that end in exhaustion for me, but it is so worth it. Here are some things I've learned along the way:

Gone are the days that I sat comfortably on the floor with a baby in the snuggly and a boy on the computer! Now, Daddy accompanies us on our library excursions, which we plan on his day off, Wednesday. He takes Eliana and her princess books to the playroom, which includes a loft with comfy cushions for reading, and Corban and Micah either walk the aisles and bring me loads of books to put in my basket, or they play computer games first and then fill my basket. As for me, I linger in the aisles brimming with Brothers Grimm stories, tall tales, biographies... okay, I linger in every aisle.

My style is not cultured- I simply run my eyes along the spines, reading titles until something jumps out at me either with the design, the title, or both. So far, I am rarely disappointed when I reach out and pull the book into my lap to pre-read before taking home. This is an important step for me- any book that my children bring to me as well, I read through and check the pictures closely for any material that may not be age-appropriate - or even just appropriate. Then over the next couple of weeks, I am reassured that, when I walk past a boy with a book quietly mouthing the words as he reads along, I needn't worry about the content.

One of my favorite tips for libary day is this: I keep a list in my purse of children's authors we've read that are well-loved; that way, I can look up other books they've written to find some more gems! This is so helpful- we have discovered so many wonderful books this way: David Small and Sarah Stewart (The Journey, The Library, The Gardener, The Friend), Marjolein Bastin (Vera the Mouse Series), Patricia Polacco (Oh, Look!, The Butterfly, Mommies Say Shhh!), Michael Bedard (Emily, Glass Town, The Nightingale), Barbara Cooney (Eleanor, Hattie and the Wild Waves, Miss Rumphius)... the list goes on and on. It is very helpful if you feel in a slump when it comes to choosing books- just find one your children have loved and look for others by the same author! Keeping the list in my purse means I'll always have it at the library when the books are right there in front of me.

When we get home with all of our books, they are kept in two canvas baskets underneath a living room table, right next to the couch. When a library book is read, it must be put back into the basket- this is also very helpful when the time comes to return all of the books with which we came home! The boys take the books to bed with them sometimes, to read before lights out, but they know that in the morning they must be returned to their place. (I am pleased to say that we have never had a fine for an overdue book, except for the time in our small town last year when I checked out a Christmas book and then packed it up with our Christmas things... we found it when we moved. In August. Thankfully, it's a very small town, and they just laughed and put it back on the shelf- no charge! Whew!)

This is a very long post, and if you have read this far, I hope your next Library Day is made better from something you learned! I can't wait to read everyone else's advice!

Happy Reading! (Oh, perhaps all of my links to the author's books we've loved will serve as my reviews today? They certainly have my stamp of approval!)

Please sign your name and leave the direct URL for your post if you have a children's review and/or some library tips for us this week!

Never Been Unloved

...lyrics to the song in my sidebar...it plays in my heart all day long...

I have been unfaithful
I have been unworthy
I have been unrighteous
And I have been unmerciful

I have been unreachable
I have been unteachable
I have been unwilling
And I have been undesirable

And sometimes I have been unwise
I've been undone by what I'm unsure of
But because of You
And all that You went through
I know that I have never been unloved

I have been unbroken
I have been unmended
I have been uneasy
And I've been unapproachable

I've been unemotional
I've been unexceptional
I've been undecided
And I have been unqualified

Unaware
I have been unfair
I've been unfit for blessings from above
But even I can see
The sacrifice You made for me
To show that I have never been unloved

It's because of You
And all that You went through
I know that I have never been unloved

-Lyrics by Wayne Kirkpatrick, Music by Michael W. Smith

"Grits!"

She sat straight up in bed.

Groggy hubby rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he rolled over.

"What?"

"I need some. Grits." She flipped the covers off and stepped into her slippers.

"What are grits, anyway?"

"I don't even know, but they sound so good right now. I think there's butter involved."

He laughed and yawned. "Are you serious? You've never had them, but you want them?"

She batted her eyes and gave him her prettiest smile.

"Well," he chuckled and patted her indulgently on the head. "Get dressed. I'm taking you to Cracker Barrel for some grits, whatever they are."

She got her grits. She loved them. And she is going to buy some to keep at the house so hubby can get some extra sleep in the mornings.

The End.

Sweet Friends

A few months ago, my blogging friend Mindy e-mailed to let me know that our local zoo was having a homeschool day, and all homeschoolers could get in for free! We decided to meet there on March 19th- little did the Hooper family know that it would fall on the day before we moved! It was a much needed break as we packed up the stroller and left behind all of the boxes for a whole morning.

Both of our husbands were able to come as well, and they hit it off famously! I so wish I had taken a picture of our tall hubbies walking side by side, usually holding their little girls and laughing and talking all the while. Mindy is a dear- she has such a sweet spirit, and such a love for teaching her children. I fell in love with her blog long ago when I began getting such good ideas for schooling with my own children- she is an inspiration! Her blog is private, except for Children's Book Mondays, and I am so privileged to be one of her readers.

We had such a lovely time- Mindy's husband summed it up so well when he said, "What a well-spent morning!" Indeed. Thank you for sharing that time with us, new friends! We're so glad to live nearby, and look forward to spending more time with you!

Children's Book Monday

Baby Danced the Polka
by Karen Beaumont
Illustrated by Jennifer Plecas


Did you hear what Mama told you?
Did you hear what Papa said?
It's your naptime, little baby,
Now you better stay in bed!

I quote these lines to Eliana often throughout the day, and she lights up and says, "Po-ka Baby!"

With fold-out flaps, brightly colored pictures, and funny rhymes, Baby Danced the Polka is a sure hit with your toddler. There are many opportunities for your little one to point to a barnyard animal and say the name; the previous line with a rhyming word will help their little minds remember:

While Papa hauled the water,
And Mama fixed the CHOW,
Baby danced the cha-cha with
The chocolate-colored COW!

Giggles galore, we love this book- it must be read every. single. day. At least thrice.

(Next week, along with our reviews, let's share some tips about library day- how do we accomplish it with our children in tow? How do we find the really good, quality books? How do we keep track of our books once we get them home? I think there are some mama's out there who would love to get some advice on this wonderful day- sound good?)

Happy Reading!

Pronoun Trouble (Or Homeschooling With a Toddler)

She sneezes, but I'm not paying attention this time. No matter. A blessing is a blessing, regardless of who it comes from.

"Bless you, my." she says softly, brushing past me.

My, me, you. It's all the same to my watery green-eyed girl with a head cold.

(She looks like she's in a cage, but those are the gates in our apartment- enabling us to get things done without having to slam the door in her face!)

Children's Book Monday

The Serpent Came to Gloucester
By Matthew Tobin Anderson
Illustrated by Bagram Ibatoulline

In beautiful poetic narrative, a story based on true experiences comes to life on these pages. Gloucester (pronounced ˈglɒstɚ), a small fishing village in 1817 Massachusetts, is initially terrorized by the appearance of a frolicking serpent in the deep water of the sea. Every day for an entire summer the whole village witnesses the serpent, gradually growing fond of the cavorting beast until it disappears into the deep for the winter.

Narrated by a small boy, the poem takes a turn when men set out the following summer to capture the serpent. For several pages, my boys clung to my arms in fear- for how could a serpent that "frolics" be bad? Silently cheering for the serpent to escape, we breathed a sigh of relief when the men come away with only a large mackerel, and the serpent is free to frolic again.

This is a lovely book, with gorgeous illustrations, and had one of our favorite things tucked in the back- a page relating the true story of the sightings back in 1817.

We have four inches of new snow this morning... I'm looking forward to curling up with this week's library books... and we'll definitely be reading this one again!

Happy Reading! (If you posted several reviews over the past month, would you be so kind as to link to all of them so that we may read your lovely reviews and add to our library lists? Thank you!)

Library

Found it.

You

I would be holding you by now, little one. Most assuredly.

Our time together would not be limited to those few moments six months ago when you lay in the palm of my hand, curled on your side. I would not know only cries of anguish, as life-blood spilled and breasts grew heavy.

The cries of anguish would have turned to cries of joy as you were laid in my arms for the first time. Breasts would grow heavy and fill with milk to nourish and strengthen, not dry up painfully.

I would not remember brokenness.

No, I would look down and see you whole.

I can almost feel your weight in the crook of my arm. I can almost see the tawny fuzz on your tiny head, feel your fingers curled around my own. I inhale, and almost smell that new baby scent; it is heady, deliriously so. I feel weak as I close my eyes and smile.

I cannot see you whole, but I know you are. And your spirit is evident everywhere I look.

Eliana twinkles at me as she points to her pink dress, exclaiming "Blue!" just to make me grab and tickle. I see you.

Micah's breath touches my ear as he speaks his evening prayer. I feel you.

Corban leans to help the stroller down onto the street from the curb, his little boy sweatiness wafting my way. I inhale you.

Daddy lifts heavy boxes so I don't have to, sending winks and smiles my way. A thousand different ways, he says it every day. I love you.

Smiles, struggles, laughter, loss, winks and woes. You are part of us.

We miss you, and so we cling closer together; to feel your breath, see your twinkle, inhale your fragrance.

And the new gift that grows inside Mama, this miracle? Well. This child will also, most assuredly, remind us of *you*.

Love you.

Love,

Question:

Does anyone else want to use their body to physically bar access to the bathroom right after they've cleaned it so that their little boys can't use it for at least an hour and for that hour they can be confident that there are no dribbles on the rim?

Just wondering.

Settling...

Children's Book Monday shall return next week- I need to find the nearest library again- what fun!

Things are finding their place. Micah is learning where the bathrooms are, and just in time, too! Corban's fingernails are dirtier than I've seen them in seven months, and Eliana is unfazed by the whole thing. We even drove to our apartment the other night to pick something up, and she clapped and sang out, "Bath?"

Now, for some help, dear reader. Does anyone know of a really good window cleaning trick? My windows are streaked and dusty, and before I put up blinds or curtains I would love to give them a thorough cleaning. Preferably something natural- I've heard of vinegar and water, but I don't know the amounts. Your help, if you please!

Thank you!

Moving Week!

We're feeling your prayers, friends. It's going to be a busy one, but we're so thankful and excited- we should be carried through on sheer exhilaration! And buoyed by your prayers.

I'll check in soon- in the meantime, the Hooper's send love!

Boy Travels

Sobering...

...so, take action!

"To give children good instruction and a bad example is but beckoning to them with the head to show them the way to heaven while we take them by the hand and lead them in the way to hell."

-Archbishop Tillotson, from The Duties of Parents by J.C. Ryle

O Lord, help me to show my children the way to You. Let me be fitted to the yoke, and walk with me as I lead.

(Click on the link to read the inspiring and encouraging work of Bishop Ryle)

Her Prince Has Already Come

(So I don't forget...)

Soft intake of air as the book falls open to her favorite page. Tiny pink fingertips trace the sparkling blue gown, linger over the glass slippers on a dainty, extended foot.

'Rella, she whispers.

Our eyes meet over her blond ponytail, smiles tugging at the corners of our mouths.

Yes, princess, I answer. That is Cinderella. And she worked very hard and was good and kind even when others weren't, wasn't she?

A quiet nod.

She turns the page, bowing her head again to take in more detail, and another intake of air escapes her lips. She points to the prince and whispers...

...Daddy.

And Prince Daddy melts into a giant, gooey puddle right there on his princess's bedroom floor.

(Be sure to listen to the song in my sidebar when you're finished... and keep some tissues handy...)

I Am Convinced

(I'm quietly slipping back in for a moment to share my heart...)

There she was.

I peeked over my shoulder several times during worship, trying to take in her expression. I saw the tiny blanket she clutched to her chest, her eyes quiet and empty.

When the time to turn and greet each other arrived, I made my way towards her. Rubbing her arm, I looked into those eyes and whispered feebly, "We've been praying for you." She nodded and smiled gently. I wanted to tell her that I understood, but I couldn't, because I still don't. No matter what I've been through in losing three little ones to miscarriage, I cannot know the depth of her pain.

I visited with her for a few moments, and then the call came to find our seats again. I tore myself away, forcing my hands to stay at their sides, for she pulled back the longer we spoke, still clutching his blanket. Through a blur of tears, I found my seat again, and scooped Eliana into my arms as Kevin walked to the pulpit.

Rocking back and forth, I prayed silently for her. I winced as our friends with a baby the same age as her little boy would have been took their seats directly in front of her. I sang the words to "Count Your Blessings" with reservation- as if I were Alice in Wonderland, coldly singing songs to a troubled heart.

How do we bear such pain? How do we take another breath?

...I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

(Romans 8:38-39)

Separated from my babies by death, but never separated from Him, nor His love. In that I find great comfort.

O, bring her your comfort as well, Father. I hold my other little ones, not an empty blanket. Bring light to her eyes, joy to her heart. Infuse her life with You.

(Playing in the sidebar "Glory Baby"- it speaks to my heart, and I know it will to yours as well, dear friends of little ones flown to Jesus.)

Book Drawing Winner!

Congratulations, Carrie- Eliana drew your name! You will be the blessed winner of any one of the books I've reviewed- there are now over fifty to choose from! E-mail me with your mailing address and your book choice, and I will have it sent straightaway!

Thanks so much, dear readers, for joining the fun!

Undercurrent

Quietly slipping in to say... I'm quietly slipping out for Lent. I'll quietly slip back in to draw... then quietly slip back out to live.

Too much has slipped through the cracks, and it's time to hone in on old habits... they need to die hard...

We plan to wear bracelets on our wrists (all but Eliana) to remind us of habits we are trying to break (our own spin on this beautiful example)... we will switch them to our other wrists when we fail... perhaps in twenty-one days a new habit will form, bracelets will not move from dawn till dark... sighing, whining, impatience, sharp tongues, slow obedience... These are the beginnings of our individual habits, but somehow writing them out reminds me that I suffer from every one of them myself...

How my husband and I long for our children to see us striving to learn alongside them... to be humbled as they are humbled... for them to see us fail and yet always try again...

You see? I must go. In a few weeks, I will quietly slip back in, but until then... I'm slipping away to simplify... to return to the One who loves me...

Children's Book Monday- and a Book Drawing!

(Would you like to own one of the children's books I've reviewed? All you have to do is leave a comment for me with your name (even if you aren't a blogger, just watch for the drawing so you can e-mail me with your address!) and I will have Eliana draw a winner on Sunday evening, the seventeenth.)


The Song of Francis and the Animals
by Pat Mora
Woodcuts by David Frampton








So calming, this story... the gentle cadence and lyrical prose bring such peace, and the woodcut illustrations, gorgeous yet simple, are a joy to behold.

This book is about St. Francis of Assisi, who "preached to people and dogs and flowers and fish and frogs". We follow his sandals, chicks and lambs parading behind him, as he saves a worm, tames a wolf, and even re-enacts the manger scene at Christmas time with his animal friends.

Interspersed throughout the story are Italian phrases, kindly translated for us at the beginning of the book... Cantiamo- Let us sing... Ti canto- I sing to you... il lupo- the wolf. And of course, there are animal sounds, which are our favorite; the falcon calls, Kek, kek, kek. Kek, kek, kek. The wolf growls, Grrrrrrrrrrrrr. (Followed by mimicking and giggles from your children.)

The poetic descriptions are delightful- As the sun set, Francis and the nightingale sang a duet in their brown robes. And the story, at it's end, invites you in it's simplicity to learn more about this saint, who devoted himself to a life of poverty in order that God may be glorified. Did you know that St. Francis was the first to create a Nativity scene, using live animals? His preaching to man, as well as beast, was regarding the duty of all creatures to praise God.

We so enjoyed getting to know St. Francis of Assisi through this story- and spent a good portion of the rest of our day learning more! I hope you do, too.

Happy reading!

The Bustling Mama

Yesterday, Corban read to me of Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus while Martha worried in the kitchen. We paused to ponder the moment, wondering if Mary had a penchant for evading work, or if Martha was unusually nervous because the Master was present.

But from the bedroom down the hallway, Micah mourned, "What a severe blow it was to them when Jesus died."

(First I beamed and hugged round shoulders, praising his vocabulary.) Then I reflected...

Nevermind that Mary was sitting and Martha was bustling and Jesus gently reprimanding. The thought that He would soon be taken from them was what brought grief to my six-year-old.

Father, in my bustling about today, let me be mindful of those I have still with me. Let me stop to sit at their feet and listen to a silly story. Let me answer with a patient voice rather than a harried, interrupted one. May I serve with a glad heart, and rejoice that others may rest while I happily whirl.

May Your words be easily heard because I am quiet.

Oh, let me remember.

Daddies

Doesn't this make you smile?























From the author of this week's book review, Marc Rosenthal.

Now, go hug your man!