Tim is putting up two, heavy LVL’s [laminated veneered lumber] on two makeshift posts so he can jack up the ceiling so he can take out a wall so he can put up two permanent LVL’s on two permanent posts so he can level the ceiling so he can put up walls so he can start making a bathroom.

In other words, progress is being made, even if the end goal gets a bit muddled by the details.  There’s a life lesson in there somewhere.

:: Pink paper hearts that said “I love you”, a handwritten note with a sweet [cheesy] poem, a box of turtle chocolates, and a made bed from my husband

:: wearing a skirt for my husband (his preference which isn’t very often heeded)

:: homemade valentine’s, heart-shaped boxes of chocolates and heart-covered napkins waiting at the breakfast table for my kids

:: a dish of homemade chocolate truffles and a simple note for the love of my life

:: french toast and sausage on festive [not-needing-to-be-washed paper] plates

:: reading I Corinthans 13

:: schoolwork that consisted of learning about the history of Valentine’s Day, how chocolate is made, how the human heart works, and art-time with hearts and glitter

:: some impromptu valentines from kids

:: a baby girl left in her pink, heart-festooned sleeper that says “I love you” just because it seemed too perfect for the day to take off her this morning

:: grilled cheese and salad for kids’ dinner (I love it that the foods they love tend to be super easy!)

:: after kids were in bed, Thai takeout, molten lava cakes with vanilla ice cream, and a movie

:: thankfulness for the blessing of family, a husband who loves me, and a God who is beyond good to me

Sometimes, I feel hopeless.  Sometimes, I think we’ve made a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in a place we were never intended to be.  Sometimes, disillusionment causes me to be tempted by apathy and retreat.

That’s how I was feeling this morning.  I sat down with my Bible with what could hardly be described as a heart of expectation.  But God is faithful to me.  When my gaze falls and my heart fails, He answers my cry.  When I choose to not believe His goodness, He goes out of His way to convince me again.

As I read my “scheduled” chapters for today…a story I’ve read dozens of times and which I was sure contained nothing to bring hope in this moment…He lifted my eyes up to Him.  He reminded me that He is holding my life in His hands, and that He works everything for my good, even when I can’t see how.

I’ve gotten this same reminder from Him countless times before.  I sometimes feel like I’ve reached the limit of His patience when it comes to how easily my faith falters, yet He remains always gentle, always kind, always understanding.  I am so undeserving of His love.  But I am so thankful.

At five months old, Ava is…

…still not very long (tall?), but is very solid and strong

…scooting across the floor

…rolling from front to back, but not back to front…and she really does not like being on her back

…saying “mama” enough for me to not think it’s entirely accidental any more

…not interested in being put down to sleep before 11pm most nights

…a noisy sleeper

…still wanting to be held most of the time

…putting everything in her mouth

…sometimes, a spitting image of my dad (but more baby-girl-like)

…still mostly bald.  We have yet to have a child with much hair early on.

…as Elijah would say, beautiful, adorable and precious.

It might seem that I wear my heart on my sleeve.  I try to be honest in my writing…and I write about my heart a lot.  I’m not good at maintaining my composure in difficult conversations.  I turn beet red if I am even a little bit embarrassed or nervous.  I cry very easily.

But, I’ve realized, there are things I tend to keep very guarded.  As backwards as it might seem, sharing my struggles, my failings, my questions, my criticisms and my fears is much easier than sharing my joys, my victories, my hopes, my appreciation, and my interests.  Somehow, letting others see the “shallow” side of me makes me feel vulnerable.  It is easier for me to have a really serious discussion about the condition of my heart than to tell someone that I like to dance around my living room to old DC Talk songs.  Just writing that makes me uncomfortable.

I worry that who I am apart from my sin nature will be judged, if that makes any sense.  I’m not so concerned with how people will view my sin and weakness and frustration, because I find it unlikely that I could be perceived worse by someone else than I see myself.  But when I like something, or am encouraged by something, or see God working in something, I’m afraid that it will be devalued by others…that I will be ridiculed or made to feel stupid for finding enjoyment or importance in something that doesn’t matter to anyone else.

I don’t often offer encouragement or thanks, in part, because it means letting a person see what I value and that scares me.  I don’t really know why this is.  I’m sure it is not the best way to be, and I do try to not let it always dictate my behavior.  But, if I come across as only ever focusing on “deep” things, or negative things, or struggles…this is at least part of the reason why.  I hope it doesn’t seem like it is the whole of who I am.

Today, my first ever baby turns 9.  I guess it’s the normal thing to say that the time has flown by, but really, 9 years does feel about right.  What takes me aback though, is that he is halfway to “adulthood” – halfway to independence, halfway to [possibly] not being safely tucked into his bed just down the hall from me every night.  I know there’s the potential for an extra year or two of him being “home”, but the eventuality can’t be ignored – he’s going to be a man, and these days, these years – whether they seem to drag on or fly by – matter to what kind of man he will be.

I look at him now and see glimmers of responsibility, ambition, thoughtfulness, choosing right when wrong is easier, learning to pursue God for himself and desiring for God to work in others…but I also am so aware of the fragility of the years to come, the desperate need for the Holy Spirit to direct and convict, empower and protect.

Caedmon is a thinker, he weighs and evaluates and doesn’t like to accept “because I said so” as a reason for anything.  There is tension as he walks that line between little boy and young man…he likes to play, but at the same time, he wants to distance himself from some of the childish ways he sees in his younger siblings.  He likes to be able to figure things out for himself, but he’s learning that not everything is as black and white as his way of thinking might prefer. The Lord is working in his heart, though I often am left to wonder at the specifics.  He has taken to keeping his deeper thoughts to himself, and I find myself hoping and praying and encouraging him that he can share his heart with us.

To say that I never worry that we are somehow failing him would be, well, a lie.  But he has claimed Jesus as his savior.  We trust that God hears our prayers for him, even in the midst of our failings.  And the more I learn about who Caedmon is, the more blessed I am to have him for a son and the more I look forward – albeit with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes – to watching him grow into a man.  We love you Caedmon.  Happy Birthday.

I’ve heard often enough that sheep are not the smartest animals.  I assume it’s true.  In the past I have bristled at the thought of being compared to a sheep for that reason.  But lately?  I feel like a sheep.  I look at many of my attitudes and actions and realize they are just absolutely ridiculous, but at the same time feel completely helpless to change.  I feel stupid, both for how I am and for not knowing how to fix myself.

More and more I note the tug of the proverbial shepherd’s hook, dragging me in a different direction than I am wont to go.  I imagine sheep don’t have a naturally acquiescent response to such an action.  I don’t either.  I would rather have a reason carefully explained to me and then have a choice.  There are times when God does that, and it works to make me change my course.  The reality, though, is that there are sometimes reasons that I just won’t understand…or that I won’t agree with even if I do understand.

So, I get prodded, and tugged, and sometimes carried in a direction I would not choose for myself.  In those moments, I am forced to remind myself of the fact that I cannot fathom His understanding…and that He is a good shepherd.  He takes care of me when I don’t know enough to take care of myself.  Even if there is some discomfort, it is for my good – to rescue me from unknown danger or to lead me to a better place.

I just need to trust.

Earlier this week, when I said, “Ugh.  I’m fat.” (what can I say…it happens) Caedmon immediately, and very matter-of-fact-ly said, “No, you’re not.”  It somehow means so much to me that he’s okay with me the way I am.  And during our prayer time with him, when asked what he’d like us to pray for, he said “That I would be hungry for God and not sweets.”  We smiled a bit at that, so he said, “No, I’m serious” – and he was.  I’m so thankful that God is working in his life.

Ava has decided to give up on the sleeping through the night thing for now.  And she still expects to be held for much of the day.  But she does have a lot of moments of having the very best disposition ever.  Plus, sometimes, I like the excuse of having to sit and hold my sweet baby girl.

Bethany loves to help in the kitchen, and asks a bazillion questions.  I love seeing her enthusiasm.  She also continues to blow us away with her ability to understand how things work.  Honestly, there are things she could probably figure out more quickly than I could.  I adore the unique little girl that she is.

Nathanael loves math.  Even when he’s had a hard time with something, he’s always eager to do more the next day.  Sometimes he does extra because he’s so excited to know how to do something.  So, so precious.  I can’t say enough how much I love this boy.

Elijah is incredibly sensitive.  He notices if I’ve been crying even a little bit, and asks me why.  And he thinks about things, and asks questions, then thinks some more.  He reminds me a lot of Nathanael in this, except he voices his thoughts more.  I like that I don’t have to try to figure out what he’s thinking or feeling.  I hope he will always talk to me about everything.

I am blessed by my kids.

Someone recently asked me what my hobbies are.  I think I gave a blank stare.  Then I said I like to write.  I couldn’t think of anything else.  Is that strange?  To not know, right off the top of my head, what things I enjoy doing?  It sort of through me for a loop that I was thrown for a loop.

I started thinking about it, and it is true that there aren’t a lot of specific things that I like to do “for fun”.  Oddly, though, when thinking about what I most enjoy doing, one-on-one conversations is what came to mind first.  I love to learn by talking to people – asking questions, challenging and being challenged, laughing, and being known enough to be laughed at – which is probably why most of what Tim and I do together is talk.

But I don’t know that conversing counts as a hobby.  So, after thinking for a while longer, I realized there are things I like to do…things like drawing and cooking and playing the clarinet and singing…they just don’t come to mind right away because, somehow, I feel like I should be good at the things I say I like to do.  If I hear that someone likes to paint, I assume they have some talent.  I worry someone would assume that I have talent – or that I think I have talent – if I said I like to do something.  I’m probably more likely to say that I “try” doing things, and to go out of my way to make sure that someone knows that I’m not any good at those things, than I am to say that I do any of those things as a hobby.

The other thing I realized is that there are things that might be considered “hobbies” that I do a lot of that I don’t necessarily enjoy, but do because I like the end result.  Gardening, or baking, or preserving food, for instance.  Not really my favorite things in the world to actually do, but I love what is produced, so I do them.  Does that mean they’re hobbies?  I wouldn’t consider them such, but maybe that’s just me.

Ugh.  Sometimes I wish my brain would just function normally.

You lifted my eyes again

when my sight was as good as blind

You whispered peace to my heart again

for what seemed the thousandth time

You heard my doubting words again

yet still You answered them once more

You held my restless heart again

and promised to never, ever let go

You pointed out my pride again

but, in that same breath, spoke favor, too

You reminded me of all I need again

and helped me see it’s only You

Thank You for Your faithfulness

Lord, my everything

Never failing, ever patient

Reason for my being

Hope of my heart, strength of my life

all-sufficient One

May all that I am be found in You

Lord, let me be undone.