My Ava Grace is twelve years old today.  I’ve thought a lot lately about her toddler days, her silliness, her sweet smile, her ability to eat a never-ending quantity of strawberries and tomatoes, her remarkably calm and kind demeanor.  And in reality, those things haven’t changed a whole lot.  True, she doesn’t spend a lot of time doing headstands on the couch for fun, anymore, but she still laughs easily and loves to be goofy.

As was inevitable, though, she is growing.  She’s developing new interests and discovering new skills.  Ava has a great eye for design and has become talented at conceiving of and making jewelry and trinkets with polymer clay.  She has also taken more interest in gardening, and although she has bitten off a little more than she can chew with her garden plot this year, she has pumpkins and squash growing that I’ve never successfully grown myself.  Ava is also continuing to advance in her Tae Kwon Do skills, and despite her small size (or maybe because of it?) is making great progress.

However, beyond her interests and abilities, Ava is kind-hearted, diligent, slow to anger, gracious, and patient.  She receives correction with humility.  She considers the well-being of those around her.  She looks for the bright side in every circumstance.  She wakes up with a smile on her face in the morning, and just generally adds an air of peace wherever she goes.

Without a doubt, Ava has enriched and blessed our lives from the moment she arrived.  We are so thankful for the unique and wonderful girl she is and I am excited to celebrate her twelve years today.

Nathanael is seventeen.  Ugh.  It makes my heart ache, even though I’m so proud of the young man he is.  I have times I wish he was still my snuggle bug, sitting close and demanding an arm around him.  Instead, he is my thoughtful, steady, frugal, hardworking, quiet, talented, analytical, almost-full-grown Bug.

Nathanael is Tim’s go-to for projects…I can’t even really say helper because, with a little guidance, Nathanael can tackle most things on his own, from wiring new ceiling lights, to replacing brick and mortar on the house, to laying flooring, to shingling a roof.  He is a willing participant, even when there are things he would rather do, and he motivates Tim to keep projects moving forward.

Really, Nathanael keeps a lot of things going around here.  He regularly gets going earlier than his siblings and gets breakfast on the table most days.  He swaps laundry for me if I’ve forgotten.  He alerts me when something in the garden is ready for harvest.  When I’m making dinner, he asks if there’s anything he can do to help.  He has a great memory for detail and is often the person we count on to recall where a misplaced item is, or to find something that is truly lost.

One thing Nathanael really enjoys doing is playing games…any kind of game…and he goes out of his way to include his younger siblings in these endeavors.  He will even play different games with each sibling at times so that each person gets to play their preferred game.  He is patient and considerate and kind.

There is so much more I could say about Nathanael.  He still asks deep questions during our devotional times.  He still readily prefers others in nearly every situation.  He will talk long and extensively about ideas, but keeps quiet about more personal thoughts and feelings.  He continually demonstrates a desire to walk uprightly and, when necessary, is quick to receive correction.

Nathanael is an amazing young man, and I am so honored and blessed by the gift he is to me and our family.  I couldn’t be more excited to celebrate his seventeen years today.

My back has been bothering me for months.  A few weeks ago, I thought it was getting better…I could sit, and ride in the car, without pain for the first time since April.  Then it started hurting again, little by little, but I ignored it as I am wont to do, until I tried standing up on Monday last week and felt the most excruciating pain in my life (childbirth included).

I ended up at the ER – one of the most useless and inefficient places I have ever been, except for the fact that the timing worked out so I could get an MRI, to find that I have 2 herniated discs.  After what turned into almost 3 days in the hospital (I literally could not get out of bed), I was sent home with a walker, and prescriptions for an anti-inflammatory and a muscle relaxer.

Honestly, I think there’s more going wrong in my back than slipped discs, for a lot of reasons…but whatever it is, recovery has been slower than molasses.  I can’t get around without the walker, and, even so, can only manage to be on my feet a couple minutes at a time.

I’ve spent hours researching alternative diagnoses, exercises, and supplements.  I would never have guessed just how much I could hate being forced to remain in a prone position for nearly all of the past 8 days.  And I only reluctantly take my prescription meds, already decreasing the dosages and frequency in the hopes of abandoning them for good sooner rather than later.

I desperately want to just be better already.  I’m impatient, okay?

But even as I try to solve this problem, my heart’s cry is that I wouldn’t have to solve this problem at all.  I don’t want to get better because I found the right inner-core exercises, or the right hormone-support supplement, or the right muscle-spasm-reducing diet.  I just want it to be because God heals me…because I want to be able to give God the glory on the other side of this, instead of questioning why He wasn’t the only answer.  I want my kids to see that God is still a God who heals, and that He doesn’t need modern (or alternative) medicine to accomplish it.  I want to know that persistence in faith and prayer matters.

The issue of healing always tempts people to add to what the Bible says, to explain away unanswered prayers for healing.  But Jesus never turned anyone away.  He had the sick brought to Him and He “healed them ALL”.  Maybe it seems simplistic and naive, but that is the theology on healing that I choose to have, in spite of all of the questions that can be raised against it.  So, I’ll keep asking for Him to heal me.

Recently, I had a a day when it seemed like everywhere I looked, I was confronted by the reality of just how incapable I am of “measuring up”.  Searching for curriculum, I read about the author of one text who has six children, has written 11 textbooks, and recently sold her publishing company to be a freelance author and speaker.  Looking at my gardens, sparse and not-so-thoroughly weeded, I thought about friends and relatives who manage to grow flowers and vegetables prolifically year after year.  I learned about a high school acquaintance who had successfully gotten fit, as I struggle to stop gaining weight.  And there were reminders in the clutter of our home and the sometimes unruly nature of our kids and even in the fact that I am only a homeschooling mom, that there is virtually nothing that I do well.

These days aren’t really that unusual (surprising, right?), but they always manage to leave me discouraged, still.  I get frustrated with myself that I’m not more successful at the tangible things of life, but I also get frustrated with God for making me this way…and “this way” can mean so many different things, depending on the circumstances.  “This way” is how I get headaches almost every time I exercise.  “This way” is how foggy-brained I am, to the point of struggling to correct math, much less applying my brain to any creative pursuits.  “This way” is how my body overheats and makes it physically unwise to spend enough time in my gardens.  “This way” is the back pain that left me semi-debilitated for 3 months (but which seems better now, thank God).  “This way” is my generally talent-less nature that can’t sing or craft or organize or thrift or fix things with any amount of skill.

I mean, I get it.  Everybody has things that they don’t do well.  Most people just don’t seem to have as many things as I have, or at least, not things that are quite so obvious.  But as I thought about it, I was reminded of the parable of the talents…no kidding, right?  I’ve never really liked that parable…mostly because I identify so much with the one-talent servant who just hides his talent away, afraid of failure and loss.  That’s me to a tee, or at least, that’s what I’ve always thought.

I’ve always thought that because I wasn’t investing myself in endeavors that “everyone else” was doing that I was hiding my talents.  Not really recognizing any talents in myself, but assuming they must be there somewhere, I figured I wasn’t seeing a return on my investment because I was being unfaithful with what I had been given.  It never really occurred to me that, if I have different talents, the fruit would look different…and the master’s expectation of the one-talent servant wasn’t to bear the most fruit, but to just be faithful with what had been given.

So, my return-on-investment doesn’t – and can’t – look like it does for someone with different gifts.  And it often looks small, and maybe insignificant in comparison to others.  My investment looks like daily devotional times with my kids. It looks like an only semi-successful garden that will, nonetheless, provide some relief to our grocery budget.  It looks like listening, and remembering, and offering support and insight as my husband talks about his work.  It looks like being available to answer many dozens of questions from my kids every day.  It looks like taking the little kids to swim lessons on hot days when it is one of my least favorite things ever, and it looks like staying up late talking to my older kids.  And it’s shopping for shirts for my Mom’s birthday every year, because it’s what she always asks for, and letting my kids get puppies because it was something they really wanted and my selfish interests were the only reason not to, and making handmade birthday cards even though those creative juices stopped flowing long ago, it’s sending birthday cards to siblings, and in-laws, and nieces and nephews because I know I’m not great at maintaining connections otherwise.

None of it is really talent-based.  Little of it results in fruit that really looks “productive”.  But, there is fruit.  My kids talk to me.  My husband trusts me.  Teachers at children’s church ask about how our kids know the Bible so well.  And so many other little things…probably things that I won’t ever even know.  But God knows.  God knows what He gave me, and He sees how I use it.  The return on investment belongs to Him, and I just hope it has value to Him.

Another double-digit milestone has been reached. For our girls, the tenth birthday means pierced ears and a trip to Watertown for the day, and for Isabelle – possibly the girliest of our girls – this has been long-anticipated and the source of much excitement.

This past year has seen Isabelle spend a considerable amount of time developing her hair-styling skills.  She is on a never-ending quest to figure out the best way to curl her hair, and often heads to bed with her hair in makeshift curlers, or braids, or twisted little buns all over her head.  She even has a mannequin head to practice hairstyles on, much to the sometimes unease, sometimes humor of many other family members.

Isabelle is also, still, often by my side whenever I am doing anything in the kitchen.  She still asks endless questions, but most often the question is “can I?”…and so I have (somewhat hesitantly) tried to hand over more kitchen responsibilities.  She can pretty reliably make cookies, boxed mac and cheese, and pancakes, and has recently taken over the bread-baking.  The only reason this list isn’t a mile long is because I say no a lot, possibly more than I should, but I’m sure she will persist until she gets all the yeses she wants.

Both of these interests of Isabelle’s demonstrate her unrelenting nature, which is one of her most prominent character treats.  The girl is mostly unflappable.  If she wants to do something, she figures out a way to make it happen, usually by sheer force of will.   And she is extremely capable, and not easily discouraged, if her first efforts don’t succeed.

In school, Isabelle has a definite bent toward math and science.  She tends to loathe anything related to language arts – grammar, capitalization, punctuation, reading comprehension, writing – as all have yet to prove their usefulness to her, and as such, garner little effort from her.  She has started to enjoy reading more, and being read to, though, so I am hopeful that the other understanding will come in time.

Isabelle is learning piano, and loves riding her bike, and making jewelry.  She is quick to help anyone in need, and has a very nurturing disposition.  It’s not unusual to find Isabelle doing part of a sibling’s chores, or waiting on someone when they’re sick, or giving hugs when someone is sad or discouraged.  She still has the biggest smile and the best giggle and the most expressive eyes.  She is quick to offer words of encouragement, and loves to be around people.

We love the precious, beautiful, smart, sincere, kind-hearted girl that Isabelle is.  She is a treasure for which we are so very thankful.  We love her immeasurably and are privileged to call her our own and to celebrate her ten years today.

These birthdays of my littlest kiddo strike me differently. He’s my baby, and now he’s seven. Seven. Time flies, and more than ever, I wish it would slow down a little.  Those little boy hugs, with arms wrapped around my neck grow more precious with each day that passes, yet still, somehow days can pass without me taking much note of just how much this boy of mine is growing and learning.

Lucas, as he as ever been, remains the tornado that tears through our house each day.  I know that can sound negative – and maybe tornado is the wrong word – but though he does leave a certain amount of destruction in his wake, much of it is borne out of his desire to be productive.  He is constantly building with LEGO, or cardboard and tape, or even just paper.  He fixes loose screws and hammers down old nails that still stick up in our old wood floors.  He makes plans for menus, and writes “books”, and changes batteries in anything that might (or might not) need it.

He loves to play games and to be outside, and is on a fairly constant quest to compel a sibling or two to join him in one endeavor or the other.  He has taught himself “tricks” on his bicycle, which include standing on the seat, among other things…which is quite possibly why he is somewhat apprehensive about the possibility of scraping his knees, and insists on wearing pants even in the warmest of weather, so that his legs are protected.

With all of this busy-ness, obviously there is little time for school, in his eyes.  BUT, many days now, he accepts it as a necessary bump in the road.  While there are still too many fits about math and reading comprehension, most of these end up being the result of his tendency to discourage easily.  Some days, he’s convinced that subtraction is just too hard and impossible to learn (other days, he races through it with flying colors), which, not surprisingly, is also how he responds to cleaning his room, or any other chore that he doesn’t feel like he has time for.  He is improving, though, which is what matters.

And the biggest thing this year was Lucas’s decision to ask Jesus to be his Savior.  Though only six, he didn’t do so flippantly.  He thought through it over many weeks before deciding, and I’ve seen in the months since how God is working in his heart and mind.  He listens during our family devotion times and makes connections to verses he knows, or Bible stories he has read on his own.  He loves to pray, and demonstrates compassion and thoughtfulness as he does so.

Lucas is sweet and goofy and quick-witted and sensitive and strong and determined.  He gives butterfly kisses and still wants to be held during worship at church.  He is full of curiosity and energy and persistence.  There is always a little mischief in his eyes, but beyond-his-years comprehension of many things, too.  I am so thankful for this little kiddo and I love him with my whole heart.

If you had asked me 10 years ago…or even 6 or 7…how I would feel when Bethany turned 18, I likely would have admitted to a little apprehension. In her younger years, Bethany was my most challenging child. Things like obedience, diligence, attentiveness, and personal responsibility were qualities that developed only through many hard-fought lessons that, at first, seemed to yield little fruit.

Yet, as we celebrate Bethany’s eighteen years today, I am amazed at how far she has come. While once I had to literally look over her shoulder to ensure schoolwork or chores got done, she is now highly responsible, focused and diligent.

She remains, as always, tenacious and confident. Don’t ever tell this girl that she is not capable of something. She will prove you wrong. Case in point: several years ago, she wanted to learn how to sew. Since I know little about sewing, I found an easy purse-sewing project for her that ended up requiring countless corrections before it was done satisfactorily. Not to be dissuaded, she insisted on trying to sew dresses. No in-between projects, no real instruction. The first couple were disasters. Being the encouraging mom that I am, I told her as much, and cringed doubtfully each time she said she was going to try another one. Over many attempts, she learned to apply constructive criticism. She watched youtube videos. She practiced. She re-did many parts of many projects. And now? Bethany can design, create a pattern for, and sew an awesome dress in a matter of days (in her free time). She can also make jewelry, change the oil in our cars, play piano, guitar and flute, bake and decorate beautiful cakes, and so much more.

She continues to be brilliant. While her grades haven’t always reflected as much, she is a math wiz…not because she spends a lot of time learning (like I had to), but because she just gets it (more like Tim). She has 18 college credits at this point and has risen to each challenge presented in taking online courses, from communicating with professors, to giving zoom presentations, to standing firm in her convictions when being “taught” biased rhetoric instead of facts. She runs circles around me in her understanding of anything science-related, and has even made great strides in her writing abilities, though spelling remains her achilles heel…which I guess I’ve accepted if for no other reason than it serves to help keep her humble :).

Though strong-willed, Bethany also has a faith that is firm and authoritative in her life. She will push back to correction, but never to the Biblical principles behind correction, and when she is confronted with a Biblical standard, she readily acknowledges the need to abide by it. She has grown in compassion, patience and grace, and is beautiful inside and out.

In short, I am immensely proud of the young lady that Bethany has become. No longer apprehensive about how she will handle adulthood, I am instead excited to see the direction she takes and the impact she makes on the world around her. I love my Miss Bethany so much and it is such a privilege and blessing to celebrate her eighteen years today.

My first baby has hit two decades. Life is moving ahead slower for Caedmon than he thinks he would like, but I think time will show the benefits these days are working in him. Still not entirely sure of his career aspirations, he has a goal he’s working toward, nonetheless, and doing so debt-free, so if he changes his mind, he’ll be free to do so, with valuable skills to show for his time spent deciding.

He is such a hard worker – diligent and faithful and disciplined – but does sometimes feel overwhelmed by life. At those moments, I often wish I could do more to help, but I’ve been relieved and thankful to find him taking his burdens to the Lord, choosing to spend his free time in faith-building endeavors, and recognizing the ways that God is lifting him up in the harder moments.

And as Caedmon juggles work and school and extra-curriculars, he is also conscientious about making time for his younger siblings. Hide-and-seek, nerf gun wars, tackles and snuggles and teasing – and conversation for the older ones – all make his siblings confident in his love for them, and genuinely excited to be around him when he’s home.

He also still (thankfully) willingly shares about his days and his thoughts with Tim and me. There are more tense conversations at times, but he earnestly seeks understanding, and to be understood, which I think are rare and valuable qualities that demonstrate a maturity beyond his years.

I don’t know how many more years I can count on being able to celebrate with Caedmon on his birthday…and even this year, much of his day has other commitments…so I find myself increasingly grateful for the moments we get. He is a treasure to my heart and I love him beyond words.

This kid.

I just like him.

He makes me laugh every day. He impresses me with his art skills, and his music skills, and his woodworking skills, and his athleticism. He is a (usually) patient and kind teacher to his younger siblings. He’s several inches taller than me now, so I can ask him to reach all the high-up things. He has grown in his work ethic and diligence by leaps and bounds. He loves to be outside. He still likes to get a hug every morning (I think…though he might not actually say so). Did I mention he makes me laugh? He is seriously just so funny. From the time he was just two weeks old, an on throughout his infancy, he had the propensity to laugh in his sleep, and he has continued to bring humor and levity with him into most circumstances.

I am so thankful for the joy and creativity and compassion Elijah brings to our lives. He’s not always thrilled to have a birthday the day after Christmas, but I am so thankful that I get to celebrate him and try to make his day as unique and special as he is. My Buddy is one of a kind in all the best ways and I love him with my whole heart.

As is always the case as Christmas approaches, I have struggled to find the meaning in this season. If I’m being honest, I miss the warm, “magical” feelings of childhood, and I almost desperately search for something to give me even a small glimpse of that same wonder. I can be prone to thinking more decorations, more carols, more lights, even more cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies will be the answer to what I think I’m missing. This year even more than normal, I’ve felt a lack of comprehension…real, deep understanding…of the miracle of Christ’s birth. And as I have recognized this, I’ve thought about the manger, I’ve thought about the humble surroundings, the people that were given front row seats, and earnestly prayed for a renewed perspective on what I’m celebrating.

The normal reminders to cease striving, that God is okay with imperfection and messes seemed trite and somehow insufficient explanations for this heart that needed to see the purpose of it all. Because this story isn’t just about humility, peace, love…and all the other feel-good platitudes that pervade most manger messages at this time of year. At its heart, the birth of Christ – the entire life and death of Christ – is warfare, a rescue mission fueled by God’s zeal for His people, the execution of a perfect battle plan to once and for all defeat sin and death.

And while the humble circumstances, the seemingly helpless babe, do serve to make Jesus an approachable Savior, perhaps they are also meant as a reminder that this work of salvation was accomplished by God alone, without the help of humanity. In fact, the plan required humanity to be turned against Him. He couldn’t have a royal army at His side when He needed to be nailed to the cross. He couldn’t have wealth or prestige that would give His accusers too much pause. He needed to have “no beauty or majesty to attract us to Him, nothing in His appearance that we should desire Him”. As much as it’s nice to think that God wanted to make sure we could see ourselves in our Savior, I think His plan was much deeper and more serious than that. He came in humility because that was necessary to accomplish His salvation plan.

That baby in the manger came with a mission. He came to wage war on darkness. He came because there was no other way to accomplish redemption. Yes, He came as Light. Yes, He came to bring joy. But, I think we forget that the peace on earth we sing about was bought at a steep price. As with most things gospel-related, I think we do a disservice to make this Christmas story about God being overly concerned with how easily we can identify with Him. God entered into such humble surroundings because He was so altogether different from us that salvation could only be worked by His own arm. And even in that lowly place, He wasn’t like we are. He was worthy of praise. He was perfect, sinless. The manger was the beginning of the sacrifice that would win our salvation, through no work of our own. It is this that should draw us to Christ at Christmas. Not some notion that Jesus just welcomes us in our imperfection, but rather, that He covers our sinfulness with His righteousness. While we are offered the free gift of salvation, salvation was far from free. Jesus paid a cost that was impossible for us to pay…which is far greater evidence of His incomprehensible love than if He was coming in humility to simply make Himself look approachable.

Who God is…His majesty, omnipotence, holiness, perfect love…is all too often boxed in to make us think that He exists to pursue us, when the reality is that we exist to pursue Him, to praise Him, to fall on our knees and throw our “crowns” at His feet and proclaim Him worthy of all that we could ever give, and more. Even when He shows up as a baby in a manger.

For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the greatness of his government and peace
there will be no end.
He will reign on David’s throne
and over his kingdom,
establishing and upholding it
with justice and righteousness
from that time on and forever.
The zeal of the Lord Almighty
will accomplish this.
—Isaiah 9:6-7

Surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save,
nor his ear too dull to hear.
But your iniquities have separated
you from your God;
your sins have hidden his face from you,
so that he will not hear.
For your hands are stained with blood,
your fingers with guilt.
Your lips have spoken falsely,
and your tongue mutters wicked things.
No one calls for justice;
no one pleads a case with integrity.
They rely on empty arguments, they utter lies;
they conceive trouble and give birth to evil.
They hatch the eggs of vipers
and spin a spider’s web.
Whoever eats their eggs will die,
and when one is broken, an adder is hatched.
Their cobwebs are useless for clothing;
they cannot cover themselves with what they make.
Their deeds are evil deeds,
and acts of violence are in their hands.
Their feet rush into sin;
they are swift to shed innocent blood.
They pursue evil schemes;
acts of violence mark their ways.
The way of peace they do not know;
there is no justice in their paths.
They have turned them into crooked roads;
no one who walks along them will know peace.
So justice is far from us,
and righteousness does not reach us.
We look for light, but all is darkness;
for brightness, but we walk in deep shadows.
Like the blind we grope along the wall,
feeling our way like people without eyes.
At midday we stumble as if it were twilight;
among the strong, we are like the dead.
We all growl like bears;
we moan mournfully like doves.
We look for justice, but find none;
for deliverance, but it is far away.
For our offenses are many in your sight,
and our sins testify against us.
Our offenses are ever with us,
and we acknowledge our iniquities:
rebellion and treachery against the Lord,
turning our backs on our God,
inciting revolt and oppression,
uttering lies our hearts have conceived.
So justice is driven back,
and righteousness stands at a distance;
truth has stumbled in the streets,
honesty cannot enter.
Truth is nowhere to be found,
and whoever shuns evil becomes a prey.

The Lord looked and was displeased
that there was no justice.
He saw that there was no one,
he was appalled that there was no one to intervene;
so his own arm achieved salvation for him,
and his own righteousness sustained him.
He put on righteousness as his breastplate,
and the helmet of salvation on his head;
he put on the garments of vengeance
and wrapped himself in zeal as in a cloak.
According to what they have done,
so will he repay
wrath to his enemies
and retribution to his foes;
he will repay the islands their due.
From the west, people will fear the name of the Lord,
and from the rising of the sun, they will revere his glory.
For he will come like a pent-up flood
that the breath of the Lord drives along.

“The Redeemer will come to Zion,
to those in Jacob who repent of their sins,”
declares the Lord.
——Isaiah 59:1-20