The Simple Woman's Daybook

::Outside my window... Probably the croaking of tiny frogs, the singing of crickets, the occasional bark from a country dog, sprinklers... but the gentle whirring of the window air-conditioner we purchased a couple of weeks ago masks those lovely sounds.  And that's okay.  I'm actually covered up with a blanket.  In my house.  In late July.  I love that whirring.  (I could be emulating Frank Navasky.)

::I am thinking... that it's quite possibly going to be a long night, seeing as I just put Gideon back to bed for the seventh time in forty-five minutes.  The first time, I lifted him back onto the top bunk to shave off a few seconds from the ladder climb, but my arms nearly gave out.

::I am thankful... that I didn't drop him.  Although that would teach him.  Perhaps better than what I WAS doing.  Hmmmm...

::In the kitchen...  I've got a pan of granola on low in the oven.  There's nothing like that honey and cinnamon smell to wake up to in the morning!

::I am wearing... Yoga pants, an old yellow Empty Tomb Gear t-shirt.  No makeup.  (Sunday is usually the only day I wear makeup.  I love Sunday evenings.)

::I am creating... Well, spoon dolls are done.  ~smile~

(Sometimes their clothes fall off.  Major giggles.)

(Giant outfits that double as blankets?  Check.  Giant books?  Check.  Giant watchdog?  Check.)

So now, it's on to making a pillow slipcover.  Kevin and I were blessed by a sweet friend with an afternoon/evening out last week, and we stopped in at the fabric store (which is forty-five minutes away) so I could try to use my coupon.  A stroke of genius and fifteen minutes later, we'd chosen a lovely silk fabric to make a decorative pillow for our bed!  (I say stroke of genius because I so rarely create anything for our house with his input- he is so easygoing and appreciative of my taste.  He's the one who found the fabric and ultimately chose it- now I'm praying it turns out the way I told him it will!)

::I am going... to pack up the three youngest children and go visit Kevin and Corban at camp for a couple days this week.  Kevin grew up first attending this camp, next becoming a counselor, then the director, and is now the speaker for it, and we are so thankful that our children can now be a part of something that their father has so deeply invested in.  And that he can be there with them!

::I am wondering... if they'll remember to use sunblock, though.

::I am reading... Dandelion Fire.  Cor asked me to read 100 Cupboards (the first book in the series) over a year ago (he loved it!), and so I (semi-reluctantly) picked it up last week.  Then blew through it.  Then couldn't wait to start the second book.  So far, I like 100 Cupboards best, but this second book is intriguing.  And we love that the author lives in Idaho!  My boys are on a first-name basis with him.  I mean, when they refer to him, they're all, N.D. Wilson would totally love this secret door, or, Yeah, N.D. would probably tell you to keep trying till you unlock it.  It's so cute.

I'm also flipping through Discover Nature at Sundown for the second time.  I just love this book; so far the best information (for us and our location) has been about owls, bats, and frogs.  All of which live in and around our backyard, so I can teach from the comfort (and safety) of the back door.  ~grin~

::I am hoping...  that I've finished compiling school book lists for the coming year.  We finished our school year last Monday (the boys wanted to do it all in one day just to finish- and they did!), and I literally sat down the next afternoon and began mapping out next year.  (I may or may not have been humming It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year while doing so.  Love it.)  (This time of year, I mean.  I only love the song if Andy Williams sings it, and that's only because my husband loves it because his mama loved it.  I am nothing if not loyal.)

We are on our second overlapping year of Ambleside- meaning, this is the second year we haven't had to purchase any school books for Micah (except Math) because the non-consumable nature of the curriculum means Cor's books from years four and five have been and will be handed down.  By the time Eliana reaches second grade, we will only be purchasing books for Cor's level!  What a blessing.  Then we can work on really stuffing the free reading shelves!

::I am looking forward to... August.  With two communities to minister to (which also means two sermons to preach each Sunday), and many camp lessons to prepare, Kevin's July is always packed.  August is our breathing month.

::I am learning...  to let my three-year-old finish his sentences.  (I know, right?  Just now, Elise?  He's your fourth.  Honestly.)  But truly, he's in that stuttering stage where he's trying to get a story out, but he keeps getting interrupted by older siblings "helping" him with the words; I'm realizing that it's doing more harm than good.  He was having an even harder time finishing sentences, so I'm calling for silence and attention when he begins speaking, and now I think he's doing better.  Poor little man.  So many smart people thinking they know what he's thinking.  Wouldn't that be so annoying to us?  Why do we do it to them?  *Sigh.*

::Around the house...  there are so many little jobs that have piled up.  The window tracks are full of dead box elder bugs, the living room blinds are coated with the dust of this small town, and I'm positive that all the baseboards are harboring entire cities of legos.  I usually don't let myself start any new projects until I've caught up on jobs like this.  I'm going to allow myself the indulgence of finishing the pillow cover (I want to have it done before Kev gets back!), but the antique desk that's sitting in the garage waiting to be sanded, coated with Huntington Green, and distressed so it can hold my sewing machine?  It's going to have to wait.  I'll hold it out as bait.

::I am pondering...  Sally Clarkson's wise words to her family: Wrong is always wrong, even if everyone else is doing it.  Right is always right, even if no one else is doing it.  ~The Mission of Motherhood 

I spoke these words to Corban during a heart to heart last night, thinking of camp and encouraging him to be a child of God in all of his actions while he's there.  Oh, how I'm praying for him.  And again, oh, how thankful I am that his father is there, too.

::A favorite quote for today...  This morning, an altercation between my big boys led to an intervention by Mama.  After a less-than-repentant response from Cor, he quietly finished washing the dishes, then came around the corner, drying his hands.

Hey, Mama?  I was reading Proverbs the other day, and the chapter I was in said something like, "Rebuke a fool and he will hate you.  Rebuke a wise man, and he will love you.".  I don't want to be a fool!  I'm sorry I didn't take your words very well.

I stood there with my mouth open.  And then I hugged him.  (Then I looked it up- it's Proverbs 9:8, if you're wondering.)  How thankful I am for grace, and for the ultimate Parent who leads my children in spite of me.

::One of my favorite things... is hearing Gideon sing at the top of his lungs, Yes, our God is, all He says, all He says He is!  Jesus in the neighborhood we can change the world!

Hee.  It's Jesus in Your Name we could change the world, but I think Gideon's lyrics work just as well!  ~grin~

::A few plans for the rest of the week...  I'm pretty sure I already covered that, remember?  Window tracks.  Blinds.  Baseboard Lego cities.  Sewing.  Camp.

Definitely going to squeeze in some Wii time with my man, Micah.  Even though he's totally killing me in bowling.

Lots of fort-building.  Sprinkler-jumping.  Book reading.  And coffee-drinking.  Probably not a lot of sleeping.  Although, Gideon has not come out in quite some time, so I'm thinking I should wrap this up.

A blessed week to you, kind friends!

(Visit other lovely summer daybooks here.)

The Invitation {revisited}

Lord, please be with us today-
Bless our school in every way.
We promise to listen to
Everything You say!

Help us as we learn new things,
Guide us as we count and sing.
When Mama speaks, we'll be meek
To honor You, our King!

Lord, we want to learn and grow,
Because You gave us minds, and so
We'll begin following
The way that we should go!

Almost four years ago, I scribbled some words on a scrap of paper, set them to a simple tune, and taught The Invitation to my children.

My heart's desire was to teach them to see the Lord as our Help in all things; my early morning prayers at that time had been cries for guidance and inspiration as I dealt with almost-two-year-old Eliana's toddler antics during school hours. Why not lead my children in a request for the Presence at "break of school day"?

Years later, we still begin Circle Time (or Grove Tending, here at Sapling Academy) with an invitation; legs are longer, voices are deeper (!), and now there are four. Wonderfully enough, if I don't start singing as we sit down cross-legged on the floor, someone invariably will.

We're so thankful that He always responds.

True Things

Tonight she sobbed and clung to my neck and her tears wet my cheeks as I sat on princess sheets and held...

...but she hadn't even fallen asleep yet.

And I soothed with shushes and pulled her closer and fanned my hands across her back so she could really feel me holding her and sighed sadly and whispered love.

It's been weeks of colds and fevers here, no one quite back to normal yet, Mama not sleeping well and babies coughing during the night and so very much to do all day and she feels it, my girl. We haven't held much, haven't locked eyes enough, haven't used our words to connect hearts.

So I lay her back gently on the Snow White pillow and wrap my arms tight around her, pinning arms close so she won't think I'm leaving just yet. And I ask,

Will you tell me a True Thing, Eliana? I think she will keep sobbing and shaking her head, eyes closed, but she settles and begins immediately...

Water always splashes... Sniff, sniff.

Apple trees grow apples...

Snakes slither. Her eyes lock on mine and I smile so big my face hurts.

My eyes have eyelashes. Her smile is found and shares in the joy with mine.

My cheeks are rosy. My eyes are green! I lean in and inhale that place on her temple.

My mama will always have that smile on her face! She imprisons my neck with her fingers and holds me there, and my new tears mingle with her old ones, and I?

I think her last True Thing is a wish, and not always True. It's lowercase true.

So.

I start again. I smile.

And I do so as I tuck her in again and pray powerfully and sing love, and I smile to the doorway, to the notepad, and I laugh out loud over her True Things.

And later I smile from her bedside, sneaking in with a camera to capture the sleeping girl with the rosy cheeks and eyelashed green eyes that is so generous with her smiles.

I will remember that she learned how to smile from me first.

Tomorrow.

[Tell Me] A True Thing

Her tears quickly soak the hair on the nape of my neck as I meet her in the hallway and scoop her into my arms. She sobs husky into my shoulder and clings tight, long legs wrapped around my waist.

Her cries have wakened me from a dream of my own, and I feel shaky myself standing there, blinking rapidly and patting her back.

Shhhhhh, precious, I whisper as we enter her room. It's all right now, Mama has you. Shhhhhhh.

I lay her back on the pillow and her arms fling frantic in the semi-dark, groping for me. I slide under the covers next to her and hold tight.

I'm scared, Mama- it's so dark! Don't leave! Don't leave... I soothe with hands through her hair, across her cheek, around her waist. I rub her back, my fingers tracing her spine and massaging shoulders. I'm scared... Don't leave me all alone in the dark! she sobs again, and I pull her chin up towards my face.

Tell me a True Thing, Eliana, I say firmly, and she quiets, breath coming shaky but slower.

You are with me, she gulps.

I smile and tuck her into my shoulder. What else? Tell me another True Thing, my girl.

God is with me. And I'm safe. My nightlight is on. And I like to make soup for Daddy!

Even in the dark, I feel her smile. Tell me a True Thing, Mama! What is true? I slide off the bed and begin to tuck and smooth the covers.

It is true that the Lord grants sleep to the ones that He loves. And it is so very true that He loves you!

We hug close, I whisper a prayer over her and pull the gossamer curtain around her bed and turn to the door.

Mama? she murmurs, blessed sleep coming quicker than I thought it would.

It is so very true that I love you.

I pray over my girl's room, my hand lingering on the doorframe. And I know He would have me listen deep...

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light, (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Ephesians 5:8-10

Today when tasks are overwhelming, when the toddler interrupts school work for the hundredth time, when dinner is late and husband has an evening meeting and the house is in chaos.... I will tell myself a True Thing.

Or twenty.

He loves me. He is with me. This will get easier. I will survive. I'll get better at this, if I work at it. I will find the time to work at it. The house is in chaos, but our home is intact. Eventually, they will all be asleep. And so will I. For He grants sleep to the ones that He loves.

I am blessed.

Preschoolish

I'm popping back in for a moment to share some of what's been keeping me so busy lately...

My girl will turn five in December, and since we live and breathe a Charlotte Mason-based classical education in our home, I have no plans either this year or next to have her doing official schoolwork. (Read Charlotte's thoughts on suggested school age here)

Eliana will be very much involved in our daily Circle Time (which, at Sapling Academy, is referred to as Grove Tending!), and I designed this year's order specifically with her fresh perspective in mind. (Here is a rough draft of our first term) She is our happy snack-fetcher, taking great care to serve everyone else first, she delights in the daily candle-lighting at the desk as much as I do, and she flits around the chairs with hugs and smiles while we compute and read, breaking the concentration we so gladly surrender.

But, from experience, I knew that as the third and sixth-grader's books began arriving in the mail (what a happy moment it is when the mailman knocks on the door every day!), a certain little lady would be asking if any of the bounty was for her. And while I don't believe she needs to have new books just because her brothers do, I do believe she needs to have new books. ~smile~. I just do.

A few months ago, I began scribbling in my journal some notes that looked like this...

character? daily. maybe scripture? fables?
biography. definitely. combine with art? Beatrix Potter?
storybook? collection of fairy tales? no. Pooh stories.
poetry. yes. Now We Are Six? Child's Garden of Verses? find one illustrated by Tasha Tudor.
animals. nature. Burgess. James Herriot. done.
one fairy tale? please? one story? research this.

Yes, sometimes I talk to myself while writing in my journal, but my hope was to compile a list that would result in a box full of books that would enrich Eliana's library for years to come, and would also make this coming school year special for her as well. Books to excite in her the attitude of learning, sparking delight and anticipation as she waits for the first day of school, and that would continue throughout the year with comfortable consistency. Living books, by one author, with sections or chapters that would lend themselves to not-always-daily use, but also Quiet Time and bedtime stories.

So, armed with my precious Charlotte Mason Companion, the bookfinder at Simply Charlotte Mason, and a budget from my generous husband, who smiled kindly at the animated expressions and hand gestures that accompanied my excited description of this task, I set to work. (Our mailman will get a nice jar of apple butter and a healthy container of homemade salsa in our mailbox this Christmas- he's the best!) I shopped only for used books unless, for some strange reason, it was cheaper to buy new!

James Herriot's Treasury for Children: Warm and Joyful Tales by the Author
by James Herriot

If you've never read James Herriot's series, All Creatures Great and Small, well, you would still enjoy this collection of animal stories. (But you should definitely read his other series as well!) My mama has this book on her shelf, and my boys have so enjoyed it on all of our visits- it's time we owned our own copy.

Old Mother West Wind and 6 Other Stories
by Thornton Burgess

Micah thoroughly enjoyed The Burgess' Animal Book for Children last year, and Eliana, listening while she colored, exclaimed and laughed at all the same parts we did- I've heard that this set of stories is classic, and can't wait to read them aloud with her.

A Child's Garden of Verses
by Robert Louis Stevenson

This has come home on loan from the library more times that we can count- we're so excited to own our own copy now! Combined with Now We Are Six, which we found at a used book store years ago, poetry for my girl is now but a breath away.

Unwitting Wisdom: An Anthology of Aesop's Fables
by Helen Ward

I wanted a book of Aesop's Fables for Eliana that is beautifully illustrated, and this is the one. I love a book that is so well told and drawn that bodies of all shapes and sizes are soon smooshed around it, peering intently at the pages. And the conversations that are sparked because of those lessons? Priceless.

The Magic Hill
by A.A. Milne

We're going to get our dose of Milne this year, let me tell you. The author of beloved Winnie-the-Pooh also wrote a fairy tale - did you know that? And I can't wait to share this one with my girl. Eliana has plenty of fairy tales stocking her shelves, we didn't need to add another huge storybook (for now, anyway!), so I was thrilled with this excellent [small] addition to the preschoolish book-box!

Beatrix Potter and Peter Rabbit
by Nicole Savy

(Children remembers tiny facts about people so easily it seems; I papered Eliana's dollhouse with vintage wallpaper found at an antique store, and in the "master bedroom" is a replica of the parlor paper found at Sagamore Hill, Theodore and Edith Roosevelt's home. I told her all about this once, and then yesterday, while I was reading a biography about Edith Roosevelt, she flopped on the side of my chair and asked who that lady is on the cover! When I said, That is Edith Kermit Roosevelt, Teddy Roosevelt's wife! she gasped and exclaimed, Oh! Just like my wallpaper from Sagamore Hill!)

So we are going to read a child's biography of Beatrix Potter, who is adored in this household. We already own Tales of Peter Rabbit and His Friends, so with the combination of the two, we plan to learn more about this author/illustrator of virtuous character who strived in life to bring joy to others, while examining her artistic style on a closer level, perhaps with watercolors of her own, for my girl who loves to paint.

I plan to quietly begin Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons with Eliana this year, at her request so she can really read her own books. And I may still add a Milly-Molly-Mandy Storybook to the preschoolish book box (we gave our copy away!), and our entire art supply needs some serious overhaul and refreshing, so that still remains to be done, but otherwise, every day 'round these parts, long about four o'clock, a little face framed with long golden locks can be seen peering out the window, waiting for the mail truck to pull up. She gleefully hands me the package(s) and skips behind me down the hall while I slip it into my closet, for we are keeping the treasures secret until The Big Day. The anticipation can be seen in the form of giggling as she claps her hands together and skips back up the hall, while Mama takes a peek and makes sure all is as ordered.

It was such a pleasure to put together this collection for my girl- I can hardly wait to begin Little Man's list! But I will. I promise.

With shelves already lined with our own copies of The World of Pooh and Lavender's Blue and fun old favorites like Petunia and Amelia Bedelia, with stacks of puzzles and blocks and drawing paper, with chants of the Greek alphabet and books of the Bible filling the school room and the opening song starting our day, preschoolish is one of the best things to be.

We think so, anyway.

Homecoming Comforts

I await the day.

Impatiently. Expectantly. A little martyr-ishly.

He's coming home!

When he's been traveling, my children can't wait to see their daddy for many reasons. One being that they won't have to hear me whisper Daddy... so forlornly after we've burst into laughter over something, or when I'm sitting by the bathtub being splashed by the two youngest, or crawling into my boys' beds to read a chapter of Robin Hood. They nod and sigh in a commiserating fashion, but I know they're rolling their eyes on the inside.

I miss him, okay? I miss him. Mostly just him.

But I'll be honest here and confess that sometimes throughout our time apart I miss what he can do for me. What he is for me.

My pillar. My calm. My strong hands coming alongside; disciplining and comforting and fixing and washing...

I can be pretty pitiful.

But I do know this: all the crazy loneliness (though surrounded by lovely friends who visit and lunch with me, and let their little ones play with mine, even though it means Little Man might take toys right out of their hands (I'm so sorry, Mercy!)) and all of the long evenings of too late nights and too much blogging or reading or watching or wandering around the house, and all of the millions of moments when I remember how very much he does around here, how very much he is part of us and completes us and leads us... well, he deserves a few sweet reminders of our gratitude when he returns.

This post? Written by a brilliant and loving wife and mama, it is so powerfully helpful, completely honest, and really contributes to mama's sanity while Daddy's away.

But I've got a few tips for The Homecoming. Over the years, my husband has traveled a lot. And sometimes the time passes quickly for those left behind, but often the hours drag along, especially by the halfway point.

Having these special comforts to prepare is a beautiful bookend hello to our goodbye. And while sometimes I am not together enough to pull everything off before he returns, I rarely miss the opportunity to welome my best friend back to his nest with at least a couple of these simple pleasures.

• Clean sheets. Simple, yet profoundly comforting. He's been away for a few days or a week, sleeping on a cot, or on a floor, or in someone else's too-short bed (he's 6'4"), and yes, The Homecoming means kisses and shrieks of Daddy! and hugs from a grateful wife... but it also means he can finally sleep in his own bed.
  I strip the sheets from our bed upon rising the morning of The Homecoming, and add some lavender essential oil to the washer (treating the chocolate stains first, of course. You didn't expect me to go without chocolate AND my husband for that long, did you? Goodness.) Our sheets are over seven years old, and thankfully the lower thread count has been softened by the years, but it's a tender gift to him just to be able to pull back the covers and ease his tired body onto clean, fragrant sheets pulled taut and tidy. (While cleaning the sheets and making the bed fresh, I also tidy and do a quick dusting- his unused night table collects dust while he's away, and just straightening his books and making the wood shine seems to perk up his corner.)

• Caught-up laundry. I try to have the children's and my laundry finished by the time he returns, so that the machines are free to quickly wash and dry his pillowcases for bed that night, and to quickly remove the scent and general grit and grime of travel.

• Tended lawn. At least the front, anyway. (And if you have an eleven-year-old who rises early because he's just so excited to mow the lawn, this comfort is much easier to accomplish!) When my husband pulls into the driveway, I know the first thing he sees is the front yard, and his mind will immediately begin calculating how soon he needs to get out there to mow, or water his little arboretum in the side yard, or work on raking up the millions of pine cones with his sons. So as a little fragmented lawn care team missing our main boss, we prepare the front yard for his return.

• Lovely scents. Lighting a warmly scented candle is a simply beautiful touch in completing The Homecoming. Not only is the flickering flame a welcome sight, but a lovely scent can work wonders on a house that has been well-lived in during previous days, and when one hasn't, for example, emptied the trash, or vacuumed, or Little Man has just filled his diaper and therefore his room with a stinky smell. Set on the mantle where its warmth can be seen from the front door is the perfect place.

These are just a few simple comforts, I've found, that can be prepared easily, and not at the expense of my sanity and energy. The rest of our home may be disheveled, but truly, aren't our husband's eyes just watching for a smile from us before anything else?

The Homecoming beats chocolate in bed any day.

As Long As it is Called Today: Finishing Well

But encourage one another daily...

{Might I do this for you today?}

Because it's that time. For me, at least.

We finished our first official full year of Ambleside (delightful!), and now we're tying up loose ends, dotting our i's, crossing our t's. Math is the slave-driver of the moment, and I'm trying desperately to keep it light, keep it relaxed, keep it necessary, but not all-consuming.

Somehow, one final subject has crept into the summer months with us; perhaps we've had one too many days of casting aside the books for a hike in the woods, or a romp at the local pool, but regardless, we are working for it now. Payment with our pencils.

And I sit and stare dreamily out the window as pencils scratch paper, fingers scratch heads. The school table will go there, beneath the new window... fires in the fireplace in chilly fall and icy winter... timeline will fit on the whole wall over there, above the reading couch... and I'm going to be more consistent with Circle Time and I'm going to so enjoy this book with him and teaching her to read and...

Before I know it, I'm Then.

But this is now and they need me here yet I want to be there...

I know I'm not alone in this soul-searching and effort-judging. I'm looking back over our school year, one that started out so beautifully and has, for the most part, been a joy and delight every single day in some fashion; but I see holes.

I see failures, I see concerns, I see struggles. I wasn't consistent here, I gave up there, he struggled with this, she needs more than that, Little Man was such a distraction...

And I want to speed carelessly through this final chapter and close the book on Now and shut my eyes and turn away.

And open them again to Fresh Start.

But He's been whispering to me, gently speaking truth and tugging me back to Here.

Finish well, beloved.

...as long as it is called Today... (Hebrews 3:13)

This is the day. I've been taking it back for a long time.

But it's always good to be reminded that, sometimes, before we begin well, we must finish well.

So I'm yanked back to Present, and Little Man has crawled onto my lap with his favorite book and I smile across the table into her green eyes as she proudly displays her latest colored creation. I shift closer to my Big Boys and reassure them that the pool will still be waiting, the popsicles are definitely ready, and we will conquer Math today, and tomorrow, and the next day.

For as long as it is called Today, there is a chance to Finish Well.

Tomorrow, Lord willing, will still be waiting.

And I can hardly bear the hope that fills my heart in grateful anticipation.

Shall we finish well, kind friends?

Let's!

Sometimes

(for Karli...
and for every other mama
(including yours truly)
who,
some days,
finds it difficult to say
Yes)...

There is a time for
No.

Sometimes
No
is necessary.

Sometimes
No
is...

...Yes.

No
to having
tired mama crawl around
the living room jungle
like a lion
Is actually

Yes
to leaving her with enough energy
to prepare
dinner!

No
to
Playdough and plastic cutters
scattered about the
dining room
this evening
Is actually

Yes
to keeping the floors tidy
for Bible study!
And maybe
just maybe
clean floors
will free up
time
for a story before
fellowship begins.

No
to one more story
before bed
is actually

Yes
to
ten extra minutes
for
evening conversation with
Husband.
Vital, restorative
minutes.
Minutes that make
Mama
a better
Mama
and lets
Daddy
know he is
important, too.

But
Sometimes
in those moments
The only thing you must say
Yes
to
is

...a gentle answer. Yes. My No can be said softly, gently..

A smile. Yes. I can do that. A smile tempers the word...

A tender, compassionate heart. Yes. Yes! The same compassion He has for me...

So although
sometimes
our lips may answer
No...

...may our hearts
say
Yes
to
Letting Go
of
the guilt
we carry
from
sometimes...

...needing to say
No.

Hidden in Our Hearts

My friend Jenny recommended Hidden in My Heart Scripture Lullabies to our family, and oh, how we love them! In our home, lullabies are meant for any hour of the day, especially scripture-filled... quiet time, meal preparation, snuggles with Mama in her favorite rosy pink chair...

...and it is the most requested music of choice for school hours. Beautiful voices, peaceful music that slows at the end of each song, and powerful, powerful scripture to encourage, strengthen, and calm spirits.

During math work, which one child particularly struggles with, the words of Be Still and Know bolster him, gird him, and make this mama's heart respond calmly and rationally, a smile on my lips that is put there by God alone.

Hidden in My Heart is such an appropriate title- as we tackle daily chores, or sit quietly forming letters, the words of the scriptures sink in gently, and when the music is over and we run outside for a walk or play or work, the words continue to come; we hum with purpose, reminding each other of the truth: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me; He is able so I am able; I can do all things. He lifts me up when I am weak, He gives me words when I can't speak; He strengthens me. He is my hope for each new day, and when it's dark He lights my way; He strengthens me...

Go, see, listen... and let your hearts be filled.

May peace and truth and love reign in your home, kind friends!

The Band Aid List

I am continually encouraged and so very blessed by the words you leave in the comment box, the inbox... my heart. Thank you for walking this path with me, my friends, for reading the quiet thoughts here inspired by the humdrum, the repetitive, the most common parts of this mama's day. For taking those thoughts and running with them, in the most inspiring of ways...

You refresh this mama's heart, you inspire her to live boldly, to take chances, to try even harder to find Him in the small things. In hearing how you've taken lessons I've learned and shaped them to fit your sweet lives, taken something small and simple and made it powerful and far reaching... well.

Now the four corners of this space I call "my world" suddenly don't feel so small anymore. And I'm singing, My God is so big! with a smile and longing to hug each and every one of you for encouraging me so with your words. With your powerful, far reaching acts.

So, thank you, kind friends. (Pardon me while I wipe the happy tears from my eyes!)

Well, last week, a special grandmama stopped by this post and left absolutely beautiful words that I simply had to share...

Sunshine said:

I happened upon your blog last Thursday morning as I was doing my hair getting ready to go to a MOPS meeting. I'm a grandmama now, but was going to MOPS to be a helper in the 4-5 year old class of cuties. I shared your blog with the moms, sharing your blog address with them ... God so impressed upon my heart to give boxes of band-aids to moms who would be willing to commit to putting their Bibles out in their kitchens or dining rooms for their littles to see as a comforting, and useful healing balm to everyday. Nine moms signed the Band-Aid list. I am so delighted to have this list, so that I can gather boxes of band-aids before the next meeting. I'm keeping the list by my Bible and praying for each mom and her family. It so warms my heart to slowly read through the list and pray. I don't even know all the moms on the list but feel such a love for each one. Is that God or what!

Sunshine? He's warmed us so with your words! Truly, you shine so brightly I think my eyes are watering again... Thank you for responding to His prompting by taking these simple thoughts and putting actions to them. For praying for the mamas in your care, for using your insight and wisdom as a grandmama to bless so many.

And yes, it is so very, very God. My humble, grateful thanks, Sunshine. (Might I beg your email address so that you can keep me posted as to how your ministry of the Band Aid List grows? For I know it shall... He works like that, you know! My email is at the top of the page...)

And may I encourage you, dear readers, (along with myself!) to listen quietly as we scrub, fold, wipe and stir, and to take bold action when He whispers through the humdrum?

Let's.

Band Aids in the Kitchen: Selah for the Soul

He calls from the back stoop. Mama! I need you!

The door leading to our half acre backyard opens into the kitchen, and it is there that I find him a few moments later, blood oozing from a cut on the tender tip of his finger.

Hmmmm, yes, buddy, that one needs a band aid. I pat down his cowlick and rise from my knees. I'll be right back!

I smile all the way down the hallway to the medicine shelf. We've had many conversations on that back stoop about what warrants a band aid. Surface scratches, for instance, need only a kiss and a hug. Sprained wrists will not feel better simply covered, but rather iced and rested. But Mama, I am often told, A band aid just makes me feel better!

My boys are tough. They battle Old Stumps and wage war on invading chickens and daredevil their way down icy hills on only their backsides. But a band aid still makes them feel better.

And that is why I smile again as I dab on some ointment, wrap the fabric around his finger tip, wincing only slightly at the dirt caked fingernails, and pat his bottom back out the door.

Because I understand completely.

My band aid resides in the kitchen, too. It has black leather edges, curled and water-spattered. The sunlight has caused corners to crack and peel, and the gold-tipped pages are faded and stripped of their shine.


But a band aid doesn't have to look pretty, does it? (Shhh... don't tell Eliana!)

For it is how it covers that soothes.

My heart may ache over my own hasty, unkind words, and although blood may never spill, the wound is still raw. My cry for help...

Give ear to my words, O LORD,
consider my sighing.

Listen to my cry for help,
my King and my God,
for to you I pray... (Psalm 5:1-2)

...is followed by the sting of the medicine...

Do you see a man who speaks in haste?
There is more hope for a fool than for him... (Proverbs 29:20)

...until I am finally wrapped in the encompassing balm of a promise...

But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God,
slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.

Turn to me and have mercy on me;
grant your strength to your servant
and save the son of your maidservant. (Psalm 86:15-16)

I've heard it said, when spoken metaphorically, that a band aid does little but cover a deeper issue, merely masking problems too painful to acknowledge.

And why not?

When a wound is healing, doesn't a protective covering work wonders while recovery takes place? When King Solomon realized the importance of a merry heart, for it is good like a medicine, is that not also masking deeper hurts with the beautiful healing properties of a smile?

I like to think that I'm strong. I have to be so, and often.


But still my band aid lies in the kitchen windowsill, a quick covering for a busy mama while I whirl and serve and seem never able to catch my breath. It opens easily to the Psalms; a phrase here while I rinse dishes, a verse or two here while I wipe counter and sink. The deeper healing will come while the heart is resting, covered in the meantime with Truth Words.

And it makes me feel better, too.

So, the man-made box of band aids? It now resides in the kitchen as well- easy access for the coming days. And I will think twice when denying one to a boy with a bruised shin, or a broken toenail. Perhaps, as I anoint and bandage in the physical realm, a Psalm balm will do just as nicely to soothe the young soul.

Where do you keep your band aid(s)?

Repentance: It Begins With an E

We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
each of us has turned to his own way;
and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. ~Isaiah 53:6

I gaze in surprise when she screeches to a stop at the dining room table. She is running to answer my call for a batter-stirrer, yet something distracts.

For she is reminded.

The rest of us, we come to the box when there is something to be written. A hurt just committed, a word, an action.

But she.

She is just reminded by the repentance box. To make right.

And she thinks for a moment, forehead wrinkled in concentration, her hand resting on the counter near the bowl of batter I've decided to begin stirring myself. Then she turns to find someone. Anyone. And she, humble, repentant, rubs brothers' arm as he sits drawing and whispers, I'm sorry for... when I... it was bad. His eyebrows quirk at her incomplete sentence, eyes turn to me, questioning. I shrug and nod encouragingly. Please forgive me? she finishes.

And he does. And she smiles. And then turns to the basket full of paper slips and the red pen. Choosing carefully, she pours all of her concentration into forming letters on paper, carefully shielding her work with hunched shoulders.


We've promised each other that the repentances are between individuals and their God. No one need ask, no one need look. The only requirement is that we make it right with the other person(s) first.

But I know what she writes, because I am her teacher.

And the only letters she can form are the ones in her name.

E-L-I-A-N-A.

Her offering is herself. She signs that slip, full disclosure. Me, God. Just me.

And she is lightened and released and she skips away.

So, later. It is my turn. I stand at the box, already forgiven by a generous child and hugged to nearly bursting; I also need to write. Years of feeding, loving, leading are peppered by withholding, pulling away, and dragging, and I stand at this place so often.

I choose my word.

E-L-I-S-E.

In blood letters, I repent of me. Me, God. Just me. I am my sin offering.

For, wasn't He? Only much, much more, because He carried my sin, too?

He was oppressed and afflicted,
yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
and as a sheep before her shearers is silent,
so he did not open his mouth. ~Isaiah 53:7

The box of repentances is a cereal box, cleverly disquised with red and cream checkered paper, a beautiful scripture in elegant font taped topside. This Lent it sits on the table, fuller every day; come Easter, the whole of it will be tossed into the firepit, burned up for all it holds.


And the woman? I am just a black, black heart. Not so cleverly disquised by scented, honey-colored hair, doing little to cover the stench of the often-too-quick-to-leave-my-mouth-words. Lotion adorning not-always-so-gentle-hands, fair skin merely a shell on a dark spirit.

Come Easter, I will not burn. Because He took the offering of me, transferred it to Him, and paid the debt in full.

But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed. ~Isaiah 53:5

I don't suppose it will hurt to tell you that all of my slips of repentances will now bear only one word.

And it begins with an "E".

And More...

I tell you, her sins— and they are many— have been forgiven, so she has shown me much love.

But a person who is forgiven little shows only little love.

~Jesus, Luke 7:47

Pondering forgiveness and love these days... and this post.

More

It was one of those days.

The snowman figurine dashed to the floor, one mittened arm lying broken, bent just the way flesh and bone would be, she thought, and Mama sadly scooped it up with her hands. She whose long blonde hair spun as she twirled and caught the snowman and sent him to his fate stood to the side, her hand covering a muffled, I'm sorry, Mama.

And from her knees, Mama smiled and said, You are more important to me than this snowman, precious! It's all right- let's see if we can fix it!

But before long (less than ten minutes), and not very far away (about ten feet as the crow flies), came another shattering sound. And this time, a ceramic mama holding her baby close lay in ruins, head and body severed cruelly; even the soft carpet couldn't save her. The flesh and bone mama knew there was no repairing this one, no- but before her heart ran away with her thoughts, there was a touch on her shoulder, and a sniffle. I'm sorry, Mama!

And the mama turned and pulled gangly four-year-old, all legs and angles and shoulders, into her arms and said gently, and with a smile, It's all right, Eliana. I love you more than this piece! And they fingered it sadly, together, and rose as one and walked deeper into the day.

And the mama was thankful, and rather proud, for the way she had handled those moments. For she felt that finally, she was getting the hang of

quickly extending grace.

But suddenly, the lemonade spilled. An entire pitcher. Right before lunch was served, when food was hot and ready and four hungry souls circled the table in that pure happiness which comes from food that fills...

But the sugary drink left a sticky mess on the table, and she just knew it was dribbling between the cracks and puddling on the spare leaf underneath. Oldest boy fetched a towel and middle boy tried in his eight-year-old way to mop up the lemons life gave them and Mama caught her eyes across the table.

Sorry, Mama, she murmured, all hopeful and vulnerable and waiting.

And the mama tried to smile, tried to reassure, tried to fix all with the Jesus words she knew by rote but still required a channel to be pulled through heart and up and out... but she stayed silent, and smileless, and moved to the sink to wring out the rags.

She tried the words on for size. You are more precious to me than... I love you more than... what? And she knew why the words stayed stubbornly still, did not move from their place to take wing on her lips and fly to the child whose heart lay in her Mama's hands.

Her time. That was the culprit. It wanted her full attention, did not want to be interrupted by silly spills and severed heads and broken mittens.

My time. Is that it? That's what is holding me back? Is she more precious to me than my time? Do I love her more than my time?

Oh, it's easy to give time when it's on our "clock", so to speak. But when it's taken from us? Well, then, Jesus words require an effort that a stay-at-home mama must hone with preemptive quiet time in the morning, with whispered prayers all day long, with nighttime knees-by-the-bedside talks with her Lord.

There at the sink, she heard her pride crack, and felt as if her own heart were made of ceramic and was severed from the head that now bowed in humility.

Yes. That was the answer. Yes. I love you more than my time!

I love you more. Always!

Yes, just one of those days. A day when Mama learned a great lesson, when cracked heart and head moving of its own accord were lovingly placed back together, and they sat and drank deeply of a fresh pitcher of lemonade.

Their feet were kind of sticking to the floor, but that was beside the point. There were other things far more important.

Such as time, well spent.

Tea

A cup of tea may temporarily satisfy the palate, but a tea time can satisfy the soul if you take the time to unlock the beauty that is possible there.
~Sally Clarkson, Seasons of a Mother's Heart

What Mrs. Clarkson is speaking of here is a moment in a mother's day, those very necessary heart-feeding moments we so desperately need sometimes. Time to sit and sip, with lovely things surrounding and quiet pressing close.

But I take this quote to heart for my children as well. How my little ones light up when the mention of tea is made! Cambric tea served in a lovely cup, whether held by a little girl or a big boy, is always quite welcome.

When school is starting late, when Mama is snappish and just doesn't know why, when little ones are tired and slow and weepy... cambric tea is our answer. It is an occasion, our tea time; served on a tray with lumps of sugar and a favorite snack, somehow the tears disappear, the mama softens, and the reading, 'riting, and 'rithmetic suddenly become manageable.

Sapling Academy's Cambric Tea

• Heat water in a teapot to boiling.
• Have a child choose a flavor of tea and place one tea bag in a quart mason jar.
• Cover tea bag with boiling water, fill to the neck of the jar.
• Place teacups and saucers in a tray.
• Place one sugar cube or one half teaspoon of honey in the bottom of each teacup.
• Fill each teacup halfway to three-quarters full with tea.
• Stir sugar or honey until dissolved.
• Fill teacups to desired fullness with milk or cream. {This will cool the tea, so remember: for younger drinkers, half tea and half milk is best. Older ones will enjoy three-quarters tea to one quarter milk.}
• Cover mason jar with lid and refrigerate remaining tea 'til next time.
• Serve, share, sip, and smile.

Now, who would have thought tea would have a prominent place on The List? I never did. But prepared this way, and served lovingly, it just has an effect on us.

Enjoy!

Recipes and Flow

It has been so pleasant taking this journey through snack time at our house! I've enjoyed putting down on paper exactly what it is that I do, and more importantly, why. I know that I would have appreciated fresh ideas when I was struggling a year ago, so maybe this will get your wheels turning about creating a List of your own, or simply tweaking an existing List to better serve you!

I think it's important for us to remember that each of our homes and circumstances are different- many struggle with allergies to gluten and other foods, or face financial strain. And buying all organic all the time is just not possible for most; even having a vegetable garden can be difficult depending on where you live. So we mama's need to do the best we can with what we have- for example, our cupboards still hold a stash of goldfish to pop in a container for worship, there is refined sugar in our cookies, and, thanks to WIC, cold cereal boxes sit on the breakfast shelf to be sprinkled on top of our granola.

But when it comes to snack time, I love ensuring that my children always have yummy food available, and that when it comes to snacks, I know exactly what ingredients with which they were made. The children don't recognize the fact that I wake very early and spend hours on this weekly project, but when I drop a warm, homemade muffin into their hands after breakfast, they smile and say, "Thank you, Mama!" And it does my heart good.

(To clarify something from my last post, I rise at 5:30 on Baking Day- if my baking is taking longer, then things are probably still in the oven and clean up is most likely occurring while breakfast is prepared... ideally was the key word!)

Okay, on to Baking Day! Or, more accurately, Baking Morning.

So, first of all I begin the Crackers!

I bake my own crackers for two reasons: One reason being that we eat a lot of them, and it helps us to slow a little when we know how much work goes into their preparation. The second reason being that we eat a lot of them, so I like to know EXACTLY what goes into them! I have made this recipe exactly the way it was written, and then I've also tweaked it half a dozen times in other ways. Here are the ingredients for the way I enjoy making them right now:

• 1 1/2 cups millet flour (I buy the millet whole at my local WINCO and just grind it as needed, because I also grind it fresh for Gideon's cereal and use it whole in our baked oatmeal and the muffins on The List.)

• 2 cups brown rice flour

• 1/4 cup vegetable oil

• 1 cup water with 2 tablespoons white vinegar

(I have found that the combination of these flours make it the most "crackery"- but you can use many combinations with a satisfying result.)

This soaks covered overnight and then all I have to do on Baking Day is knead it with one teaspoon of sea salt and one and a half teaspoons of baking powder, divide it into fourths, roll it out on a countertop dusted with lots of white flour, cut with my pizza cutter into squarish shapes, prick with a fork and bake. While the first batch bakes I roll, cut, and prick the rest so they slide into the oven in tandem. These crackers are the favorite snack during school hours- we slice little squares of cheese and make *sandwiches*- a delicious little protein boost!

Next I begin the protein bars, since they need time to refrigerate in between steps. Originally almond bars found here, but they are so forgiving- you can use many different substitutions! Here is my tweak:

• 2 cups raw almonds

• 1/2 cup flax meal

• 1/2 cup golden raisins

• 1/2 cup shredded coconut

• 1/2 cup natural peanut butter

• 1/2 teaspoon salt

• 1/2 cup butter, melted

• 1 1/2 tbsp. raw honey

• 2 tsp. vanilla

• 2 oz. dark chocolate, melted

Place first six ingredients in blender and pulse till mixed (again, I grind my almonds the night before because of the noise- these six ingredients together are not nearly as loud!)
Mix melted butter, honey and vanilla together in a bowl and add to pulsing ingredients in blender until they pull away from the sides of the blender a bit, making a coarse paste.
Press into an 8x8 glass baking dish and chill for one hour. Pour melted chocolate over the top and spread thinly. Refrigerate again until chocolate hardens, then cut into bars.
Store in refrigerator- for as long as you can; Daddy enjoys taking them to work for a snack, and Mama enjoys one mid-afternoon for an energy boost!

Now I am free to mix the muffins!

The only changes I make are to replace 1/2 cup of the whole wheat flour with flax meal, use milk instead of buttermilk, and we love to add craisins and fresh peeled and diced apples. These are so buttery and indulgent-tasting, but good for you! Sometimes I double the recipe and freeze half, so Baking Day the next week is a bit lighter.

After preparing the muffin batter, I fill the tins and set them aside and begin mixing the peanut butter bites.

Peanut Butter Bites (or Flax Balls)

These must be stocked at all times. Mama needs them even more than the children, for those Sunday mornings when I haven't time for breakfast, and all the other days that meals slip my mind. These little bites mix together very quickly, and they are last on my list so that if I'm still baking when they rise, my children can help with the rolling- so much fun!

And once the crackers are finished baking, I slip the muffin tins in the oven and begin clean-up. A busy, tiring, beautiful start to a day.

It's worth it!

I apologize for the length of this post, so I'll save one more treasure for tomorrow... Tea Time.

'Til then, dear reader!

Baking Day

Friday.

The last day of the school week.

Sometimes my alarm wakes me, but more often than not I rise, my body awakening by habit. Hair slips up into a ponytail, robe ties around waist, and I pull the bedroom door closed behind me. The darkness of the house whispers peace to my heart, and though the wintry cold brings a shiver, a mug of tea or hot chocolate and a preheating oven are the simplest of remedies.

It is Baking Day.


I have found that the best way for me to keep my cupboards and countertops stocked with items from The List is to rise even earlier than usual on Friday mornings to prepare them. The cracker dough soaks overnight and the almonds take a spin in the blender the night before as well so that their rough noise will not awaken my little sleepers. Lately, the kitchen has been so inviting with festive twinkle lights in the window; it is not hard to begin my work.

(Especially when I have these to listen to... such a breath of encouragement and conviction first thing in the morning.)

The tasks are these:

• Bake crackers and muffins. (And granola bars, if I'm making them- lately I've alternated between keeping these and protein bars in stock.)

• Mix peanut butter bites and refrigerate.

• Mix protein bars and refrigerate.

It isn't a long list, but it takes two to three hours to complete, and (ideally!) I like to have the kitchen cleaned and breakfast either ready or "mentally prepared" (smile) for when the children rise at 7:30.

Tomorrow, I'll share the recipes and flow of Baking Day...

The List

I love my children. I love to answer their questions. And I love to feed them.

But one day, over a year ago now, as I stumbled through the house in a mid-afternoon new-baby fog, I passed my oldest in the stairwell and he looked earnestly into my eyes and asked a question.

Mama, can I have a snack?

The dreaded snack question. It comes several times before 10:30 and then several more times by 3:30. And, lately, right before bed while we're reading The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. (Lewis and Tolkein and their descriptions of food. My goodness.)

I meant it when I said that I love to feed my children, but during that sleepy period of my life I found it difficult, if not nearly impossible, to think through the options and choose something that didn't fill tummies too much before dinner, maybe some fruit since I didn't slice any at lunch? Perhaps, for the midmorning snack, a protein since breakfast was cereal? Or a carb, since breakfast was eggs? I'm so tired of doling out goldfish, aren't there any other quick options that are also healthy and wholesome and brain food? My boys are big. They work and play really hard. I've got to start doing this better.

And I stood there that day, pondering these things and looking into his amber eyes for so long that he finally placed his hand gently on my arm and whispered, Mama? It's me. Corban.

And after had we made introductions and gotten to know each other again and I handed him a banana and sent him off for quiet time, I sat down to make The List.

It was revolutionary for me; a not-quite-dramatic-enough-idea to be called a life saver, but welcome nonetheless. And it still resides in our kitchen, safely ensconced in a plastic page protector and tenderly affixed to the side of the refrigerator with an old Taco Time magnet.

The List makes snack decisions for me. I love The List. I still get The Question, but now I just point to The List.

Hungry? Choose something from the list, son, and if it needs slicing or dicing or heating, I will be there for you. If not, eat hearty, and I will see you at the next meal table. (Well, I would see him before that, but not looking earnestly, hungrily into my eyes.) Or...

... What is it, Eliana? Oh, you're hungry? Well, it looks like it's snack time- here are your choices! And I read them to her, she (keyword she) chooses and off we go.

Would you like to see the list?
Simple. Holds a little bit of everything. It serves me well.

Later this week, I'll share with you my method for ensuring that the home-baked items on The List are available at any given moment on any given day - it is possible!

Ten Steps to a Smile (or, how to light your house for nearly free)

So you're heading through the kitchen to the stairs with a bucket of diapers over one arm and a laundry hamper in the other, when he jumps past the top step and skids to a stop in front of you.

Mama, do you want to see what I made?

Step One: Stop walking. Don't slowly inch your way past him as he begins talking.

Step Two: Say Yes, of course!

Step Three: Listen as he describes his newest creation. (No, don't think about the washer beginning to agitate. Stop it! Pull your eyes back to his. There. Amber-hued hope. You hold his heart in your hands.)

Step Four: Ask questions. If you look closely at what he holds, it will lead you... What does the blue section do? How come there are two handles?

Step Five: Put down the bucket and hamper. You need your hands free for step six.

Step Six: Tuck the butt of that lego rifle into your armpit and squint through the plastic yellow sight. Aim up. Aim down.

Step Seven: Now let him show you how you're supposed to hold it. Say, Oh, I thought that didn't feel right!

Step Eight: Forget to listen to him talking, getting distracted by that cowlick and that jawline and that faint, soft, white fuzz on his upper lip.

Step Nine: Resist the urge to squeeze the living daylights out of him and gently steal your arm around his ever-widening shoulders.

Step Ten: Tell him you think his rifle is amazing.

Now find a way to plug that boy into a wall, 'cause his smile is going to light your entire house. I said it was nearly free. It cost you a cycle on the washer. It cost you ninety extra seconds in which you could have walked down the stairs and begun stuffing one machine and emptying another.

I'm beginning to feel as if I'd like to pay that small fee any old day. 'Cause they're getting shorter.

Won't you be a blessing to a boy this weekend?

I Will

It's inevitable.

My seat hits the seat, we say amen, and she calls, Oh! I need to go potty.

And I set down my napkin and scoot back my chair and hold out my hand for hers.

Oh, we try to remember to remind her before we sit. But in the flurry of plates and silverware and hot pots and strapping baby into his seat it slips our minds more often than not.

And I want them to eat hot food, want them to enjoy, so I go. I take her. And I grumble internally the whole way.

I wonder when I will get a hot bite? How many years before Mama gets to sit and stay seated and eat hot food?

And she sits on the potty, little hands holding tightly to the seat, green eyes solemnly gazing into my frown, and she says it.

I need you, Mama, don't I?

Heart crumbles.

Yesterday when the apples wouldn't press through the old borrowed mill and the dinner bubbled over and the baby boy caught hold of my ankle and wouldn't let go as I whirled around the kitchen, I said it. I need you, God! I need you.

And He scooted His chair back and He held out His hand and He took me. And even though I couldn't hear His thoughts, (although I've read them...)

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD.
"As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts." (Psalm 139:16-18)

...I'm sure He didn't grumble. And even though I couldn't see His face, (although I've read it...)

They waited for me as for showers
and drank in my words as the spring rain.
When I smiled at them, they scarcely believed it;
the light of my face was precious to them. (Job 29:23-24)

...I'm sure he wasn't frowning.

And my messes are messy.

He wiped and washed, and returned me to my place. And I pressed apples with new fervor and turned down the stove and scooped baby boy onto my hip and inhaled.

Did you know that the Lord says I will over 1400 times in the Bible?

Oh, the lessons never end, do they. How I long to emulate the loving Father who never gets to eat a hot meal with me in the room. Whose seat hits the seat only to hear my cry... I need! Who serves, and gladly, too.

So she hopped down, fluffy lacy dress situated back around her waist, we washed, and after pressing the light switch, I pulled her back to me and knelt, smiling. I have a secret, Eliana.

She breathed in happily. What, Mama? And she pressed her ear to my lips and waited.

I will always help you when you need me.

It's my new mantra.

I will.

Join me?