The Wonder of Young Life

(I wrote this last week some time...)

It is a wonder to open your eyes and behold the world of a child. Colors are brighter, movements are more pristine; sounds are new and exciting (the louder the better) and each new smell is either REALLY good or REALLY bad.

A red cardinal isn’t just red, it is BRIGHT RED and hiding in the tree.

A dove in flight is STRAIGHT while a tufted titmouse SWOOPS like a wave.

A Black Colobus Monkey from East Africa (off of our rain forest CD) sounds like HUGE belches – “But wait! If I belch, I can sound like a monkey!!”

“What’s that smell that I’m smelling?”: The scent of granola, fresh out of the oven and too hot to eat, can be inhaled deeply – and then a cry of “YUMMMM!!!” resonates off the walls making my ears cringe; “That soup smells stinky.” (Ummm, thanks, son.) “*sniff* *sniff* What did you eat?” (They always know when I sneak a treat.)

When I look back over the happenings of a single day I’m dismayed about how much I have missed simply because my mind is too filled with my ‘To Do’ list. I want to teach my children how to observe the things going on around them… but I find that when I slow down, they are the ones to teach me. I want to cultivate an atmosphere of WONDER in our home, of noticing the little details of life that actually make life full and fun. I want my kids to be able to savor each new experience that weaves its way into their lives – but I am only just learning how to do that myself. I want my kids to be able to live life to its fullest. But wait… they probably already are and will continue to as long as I don’t pull and push them into box of ‘supposed to’ and ‘ought to’ and the like. I want to enter their world – and then teach them how to relish every detail, teach them how to extract all the fullness of life that they can.

I want to enter their world and then together, with them, broaden their horizons.

Plus, in their world dirty laundry isn’t a task that needs to be done – it is evidence of a day lived to the max!

Eat Dirt!

The Carpenter and I have decided to start eating dirt - rather, we will be drinking it. I ordered some Bentonite Clay and some Diatomaceous Earth. You mix a bit of each in a glassful of water and drink it down! We just finished our first 'shot.'

I had heard of bentonite clay before - in short, it binds toxins and removed them from your body. People also use it for facial masks, but I will probable never get around to trying that - and I severely doubt I'd ever find Andrew smearing mud on his face (unless he was hunting or being stealthy or something!). I'll let you read about the proclaimed benefits for yourself; just click on the links!

I had also heard of diatomaceous earth (DE). One of the main components in DE is silica, something our bodies need! I had heard of it for pest control - like ants - but only recently learned of the benefits of taking it internally. You'll have to read for yourself the L-O-N-G list of reasons to take DE. (Just click on the link!)

We will have to let you know if we see any results from our dirt eating venture!

Quote for the Day

Phin and Abbi were sitting at the table drinking juice and talking about playing. I think Abbi was trying to teach Phin a new word:

Abbi: "What is a playmate?"

Phin: "Hmmm... I think a playmate is a kind of fruit tree."

But better than that was what Phinehas said after his nap:

"Mama, I want to help."

"Help what, son?"

"I want to help unload the dishwasher."

"Oh... that is nice, but it is already done."

"Then I want a chore!"

"Absolutely!!!"

So it Begins…

Early this morning, following the Carpenter’s departure, I rejected the alluring opportunity to crawl back into my still warm bed and drift into dreamy oblivion for an extra hour and a half. Instead I decided to do one of the things I dislike the most: exercise. I don’t like to exercise. If you ever see me running, be sure to look and see what it is that I am running from; I will probably need some help, either to escape a fleet-footed foe or to revive me after I collapse from exhaustion. I don’t like to exercise. But, I know that something needs to be done.

My childbearing days are over and I’ve run out of good excuses. I’m going to need to resurrect my tummy muscles so that I can properly sit on the floor for extended periods of time in order to play with the train set and the blocks. I’m going to need to have legs that have a better chance of actually keeping up with my lightning fast children. I’m going to need to have healthy lungs that can make my voice heard over the roar of laughter and lions, the squeals of horses and hilarity, and the unending jibber-jabber of story-telling children interwoven with too many questions. In other words, I’ve gotta get moving.

So, this morning it began. I found a free T-Tapp workout and thought, “Why not? It can’t be that bad and they’re claiming you see results after only TEN TIMES!” Well, I was wrong. It was bad. (Or maybe I’m in worse shape than I thought!) But, I must admit that when I was done I felt pretty good, not to mention a little bit prematurely proud of myself.

Then, to top it all off I decided to continue my torture and do laps this afternoon – up the hill behind the house, down and around the front, up the driveway, back to the top, lets do it again. I told myself I’d do 10 laps… or 30 minutes, whichever ended first. I finished the 10 laps first! Hooray! (And, thanks to the YakTracks that I borrowed from the carpenter, I managed to not slip and fall on either my face or my bum – thanks Philip!)

So, why am I publicly humiliating myself by telling you all how grossly out of shape I am? Well, to make all you mothers of young children feel not so alone in this world, AND so you can ask me if I’m persisting in my self-imposed exercise regimen.

So it begins. Lets hope it continues.

Life in the Midst of Death

I'm sure you all have given at least a little bit of attention to Haiti. If anyone is "the least of these" it is the people of that broken nation. They had... nothing. And what they did have has been taken away. But, in spite of great loss, tragic death, and utter destruction, life continues. Below is a link to a web page that has a three-part testimony given by some friends of ours, Rodney and Lillian Smoker. Rodney grew up in Haiti for most of his life. He is the son of Lloyd and Darlene Smoker who lived there for 20+ years as missionaries.

The message is called Story of Haiti, Part 1, 2 and 3 and is simply Rodney's and Lillian's story of being in their home in Port Au Prince when the earthquake struck and how their lives were preserved. There is also information on how people can tangibly help as well as a 'game plan' for restoration. For what its worth, this is the family we will stand with and help as we are able.

I encourage you to take the time and listen.

The page where the message is posted:

Petra Christian Fellowship, Resources

Links to the message itself:

Story of Haiti, Part 1

Story of Haiti, Part 2

Story of Haiti, Part 3

Learning Mama

“The preparations of the heart belong to man, but the answer of the tongue is from the Lord… Commit your works to the Lord, and your thoughts will be established.” ~ Proverbs 16:1,3

Parenting. What a sterile word. Being a parent. Sounds so… vocational, like a duty or a task. But parenting is so much more. It is so much more than joining with another person to create a brand new life; so much more than bringing that little life into the world; so much more than clothing, feeding, and changing diapers for the new life; so much more. So much more than just teaching a growing child how to read, which color is red or blue or pink; so much more than teaching them how to do chores – “… pick up your toys,” “… here is how you fold a washcloth,” “…for supper we need five plates plus one more for our guest. That makes how many?”

Parenting. It is so much more. So much more than I am able to do… yet it is exactly what I get to do each and every day. What I GET to do, what I am PRIVILEDGED to do. What I struggle to do.

Being a parent is a high honor – I’ve been entrusted with wee little lives that are just beginning to unfurl before my eyes. New personalities are budding and blossoming beneath my fingertips. I have the power to allow little dreams to soar to heights unknown… and I have the power to snuff out childish fancies like a cold quick gust extinguishes a flickering flame (en ninguna manera! – don’t let it happen!)

Today, my heart cry has been, “God! Give me the key to their hearts! Show me how to unlock them so they can soar!” I want to know how to answer their questions they are asking… and the ones they don’t know how to ask. I want to know what to say when they come to me with a problem… even one as ‘trivial’ as “Liam is sitting on the blanket I am trying to fold.” A sharp, “Liam! Get off the blanket!” sure gets the job done… but it doesn’t unlock hearts, it doesn’t produce kindness, it doesn’t produce gentleness. What about the really tough situations: “Mama, there are a lot of dead people in Haiti, right?” “Yes, love.” “God can bring them back to life, right?” How do you answer that one?!

And then, there are the all to frequent times in my life when I see myself getting frustrated. The frustration is understandable, I guess. I hope. But what am I going to do with my frustration? Am I going to yell? Am I going to lash out? Am I going to grouchily demand silence? How am I going to act? What am I going to show my kids about how to deal with frustration?

Today, as I was helping Abigail with her piano lesson, while Phin and Liam were running around being very GOOD but loud little boys, I was getting frustrated. I wanted to raise my voice to Abbi, demanding that she GET what I was trying to show her, demanding that she LISTEN to ALL of what I say so she can understand. I wanted to holler at the boys to… to what? Stop being boys? But, for once I saw myself take a deep breath, put on a smile, and tell Abbi she was doing well. I saw myself calmly redirecting the boys’ energy to something profitable… but, I was still frustrated.

I almost came down hard on myself, really hard. “What! Can’t you be NICE?!” Wait. I was nice. Abbi was still happy, the boys were still happy and even though I had wanted to do and say the wrong things, I hadn’t. That was when the above verses popped into my head: “Commit your works unto the Lord and your thoughts will be established.” BING! So, maybe, just maybe, if I DO the right thing in spite of how I am feeling, maybe, over time, those feelings of frustration, irritability, whatever will fade away (is that self-control?) “The preparations of the heart belong to man, but the answer of the tongue is from the Lord.” So, if I focus on preparing my heart to give all that I’ve got to my kids, maybe the answers they are seeking will come to me from the Lord at just the right time and then flow out of me? Wow. That would be cool.

So, yeah. I’ve gone to bed almost every night for the past five years hoping to wake up in the morning as the perfect mother. I’ve been frustrated, almost daily, with my shortcomings, my mistakes, my regularly visited pitfalls. I’ve always known that this process of changing doesn’t happen overnight. But it seems that for a long while I’ve been trying to get my emotions to change before my actions; it hasn’t worked. I think now I’m going to focus on preparing my heart in prayer and watching that I DO the right things in spite of how I feel. In about 5 years or so, ask me how it worked!

Rain!

"Geese keep dry in drippy weather,

Oiling feather after feather.

I keep just as dry and quicker;

I just have to …" *

… stay inside next to the open window through which a fresh, cool breeze is blowing, filled with the wet scent of freshly thawed, rain-soaked dirt. That is the easier thing to do with four little ones, three of which would instantly become walking mud pies if I allowed them to venture out into the sodden outdoors. I must admit that it is quite tempting to send them out in the rain; I sure would like to go. But, it is just cool enough and more than wet enough to transform any lengthy excursion into a brief traipse that ends with cold wet fingers and soaking wet clothes. I guess I’m not up for the adventure.

In the mean time, the creek is rising… ehem… risen and is roaring happily outside, across the driveway. It will be pleasant to listen to and will make me dream of peepers.

* The real ending to this poem by Aileen Fisher is "... wear my slicker"