These days

These days have been marked by…

…a nine-year old who loves cooking.  Who am I to stop him if he wants to make the eggs, or pancakes, or oatmeal for breakfast?  It’s one of those scenarios that has given me a new realization of the very practical nature that “children are a blessing” can have.

…a seven-year old who, when trying to come up with something fun to do yesterday, decided that she would gather her brothers together to do a Bible study.  They each read a chapter of their choosing and commented on some part of it.  Conceived, organized, and carried out all on their own.  This is particularly encouraging to me because this same seven-year old is often my greatest challenge, and I worry that my failings are standing in the way of God working in her life.  I’m thankful that He is bigger than my failings.

…a six-year old who has a new-found love of climbing trees.  He is proving to be more fearless than his siblings (in this and other potentially fear-inducing endeavors).  A part of me wishes he was just a little bit more scared than he is, but another part of me is glad for this character trait that I know can work to his benefit in years to come.

…a three-year old determinedly trying to learn how to whistle.  Every day, he demonstrates how he can almost do it…and he is actually improving quite significantly.  There is such a depth to this little boy, and I am regularly startled by how much thought he puts into things.

…a one-year old who seems unable to eat without making “mmm-mmm” noises all the while.  She clearly enjoys food a whole lot, and for now at least, it is incredibly cute.

There are song lyrics going through my head this week.  Words reminding me that all of my aspirations, all that I hope to ever be, all that I measure myself against, should be wrapped up in Him.

My heart wrestles with that truth, and hurts even, when considering what it means.  I am prone to wanting to be acceptable to others, to wanting to change myself to be like someone else, because a part of me is convinced that who I am will never be acceptable, or good enough, unless my life meets someone else’s standards.  I make things necessary that aren’t necessary, and I put words in God’s mouth about who He wants me to be, forgetting that who He wants me to be is not someone else, but me, just walking closer to Him.

On the flip side, there is this stubborn, selfish, wanting-to-be-right, not-wanting-to-be-vulnerable part of me that doesn’t want to love people when people don’t love me.  I try to persuade God that they just.don’t.deserve.it, and I cringe when He reminds me that I don’t either.  I know that it’s an argument I can’t win, but – and likely it’s because this is even an issue to begin with – I feel like something is being ripped out of my heart every time it comes up.  It reminds me of how very much not-like-Jesus I am, and how desperately I need to get my heart in line with His, and learn to love what He loves, and continually lift my eyes above my circumstances to see only Him.

And then there are other song lyrics going through my head.  These words reminding me to let God speak to my heart, to remember His Word, His promises, His faithfulness.  Because when faced with the reality of how far I am from perfect, it’s easy to tell myself things about what God thinks of me, or what others think of me, or what I think of me that, at best, shouldn’t matter to me, and at worst, are lies that rob life and joy and peace, and cause me to forget to listen for His voice when I most need to hear it.

I’m thankful for reminders to keep my perspective right, to remember the one thing that needs to matter above all else.  He is faithful to me.

 

Being reminded

Sometimes, life reminds me that I’ll never get it all right.  I focus on the wrong things, say the wrong things, do the wrong things.  Somehow, I seem able to justify wrong things pretty easily in the moment of decision.  It can be humbling to realize how easily.  And then, sometimes, I think about something I wrote years ago, that is still all-too-applicable to life today.  I wish it wasn’t.  I wish I could say I finally figured something out.  I haven’t.  All I have figured out is the same thing I had figured out then.  Luckily for me, it’s the most important thing.

I broke again today,
said things I should never say,
proved I don’t deserve Your grace,
yet, here I am, fallen on my face
crying out to You.
All these blessings You’ve given me,
so much more than I’d ever need.
Why is it so hard to see
except when I am down on my knees,
crying out to You?
Break me.
Shatter this pride that I hide behind.
Break me.
Undo this life, take all You can find.
Break me.
Refine my heart and renew my mind,
til I am gone, and all that’s left is You.
I see the scarred hands now
and the blood upon His brow
I’ll never really know how
it makes me clean
but I hear it loud.
It’s crying out to You.
For me, it’s crying out to You –
to heal me, to free me,
to love me, to see me
not for who I am, but who You are.
I’ll never understand why saving me
was in Your plan.

One year

Today is Ava’s first birthday.

Wow.  Really??

It makes my heart ache just a bit.  Or a lot.

She has been such a blessing to our family in her one year…and not just in the generic, every-baby-is-a-blessing kind of way (not to knock that, though – it is itself absolutely amazing), but in a way that is unique to her.  It’s the way she can wake me up multiple times a night and still be endearing.  It’s the way she wraps her arms around my neck when I pick her up.  It’s the way she gets a huge smile on her face when she first sees her Daddy in the morning, and the way she giggles with excitement when I start reading her a book she has brought me.

It’s the way I always want to hold her for just a few more minutes when she’s asleep in my arms, and the way tears come to my eyes when I realize how fleeting these baby-days are.  It’s the way she has reminded me of the joy of being loved by my children, and the way she helps me see the difference that gentleness makes.

And along with being a blessing, there are obviously other qualities about her that are special and noteworthy.  She loves tomatoes and potatoes and chocolate and bananas.  She has been walking for almost 2 months and, unlike at least a couple of our other children, has not really given crawling a second thought since then.  She wants to be a big kid, and she never sees them crawling, so she won’t either.  She loves bathtime, but hates encountering large amounts of water in any other environment (beaches, sprinklers, pools,etc.).  She’s loud when she’s excited, and loopy when she’s tired.  She still wakes up often at night (we’re working on that) and does not like to nap.  She loves the piano and occasionally sings to herself.  There are so many quirks and personality traits that make her distinctly Ava.

She is loved lavishly and, even now, pours that love back out in her hugs and snuggles and smiles.  She is treasured, and though I might feel like these past twelve months have passed too quickly, it is nonetheless a joyful thing to be taking this day to mark the first year of life.  Happy Birthday, Ava Grace.