Caedmon is 21 today.  Officially, legally in every way, an adult.  Except for the occasional hotel or car rental that require a minimum age of 25.  Or the male brain development that still happens into the early 30’s.  But, even with the exceptions, I can’t escape the reality of time marching on.

He is in his last semester of college, and his job search will begin in earnest soon.  If he decides a job is what he wants his next step to be.  Usually, he thinks it is, but occasionally, he entertains other options.  And I am so proud of Caedmon that he has paid his way through college and will graduate without the burden of student loans…so he CAN entertain other options.

Caedmon loves the Lord.  He is bold about his faith and stands up for godliness in the very secular environments of school and work.  But he is also very approachable.  He is liked and well-respected by his extremely liberal boss and his “trans-identifying” classmate.  His coworkers with whom he has little to nothing in common will readily share their life hopes and struggles with him, ask him about Christianity, and see him as a friend.

Several times now, Caedmon has taken time off of work to volunteer as a counselor at a Christian camp.  The first time was only done with great prodding, but he came home from that experience surprised by just how much he enjoyed it.  Now, he looks forward to each opportunity, and always comes home grateful for the chance to help little kids hear about Jesus.

Still, he most looks forward to the day he can be a husband and father.  That day is not on the horizon, yet – and he is learning about patience and laying his dreams at the foot of the cross – but I am so thankful that, in a world that increasingly scoffs at the ideas of marriage and family and makes monetary success the highest goal, his values are secure.

This past year has flown by, but there have been occasional memorable moments.  He broke his wrist snowboarding last February.  He achieved a black belt rank in Tae Kwon Do in June.  He has learned, more, the realities of financial obligations as he navigated car expenses, school expenses, and lost work due to his wrist.  And even with the busy-ness of life, he makes time for his siblings, and for a pizza and movie night each week.  He, forever and always (I hope), wants to talk long about life and politics and the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

As always, I am so proud of the young man Caedmon is.  He works hard, has integrity, and truly wants to please the Lord in all he does.  I love him more than words.  And I like him.  He is fun and genuine and kind.  Being able to celebrate his birthday is a privilege I don’t take for granted, and I am truly thankful for these 21 years.

Well, this year it happened.  Elijah is officially the tallest person in our immediate family…and at fifteen (and if his appetite is any indication), is probably not done growing yet.

It does make it hard to remember, though, that he’s only fifteen…and I definitely don’t want time to go any faster than it already is.

This year, Elijah got his black belt in Tae Kwon Do.  He made two ukuleles, repaired a guitar and is working on making another guitar from scratch.  He has also started playing guitar in earnest this year and that, along with woodworking, consumes nearly all of his free time.

As always, Elijah remains full of wit and laughter.  He still makes me smile many times each day.  He does have a stubborn streak, too, though, which shows up with more regularity, and so we walk that line of teaching him respect and obedience while also encouraging him to be principled and independent.

Our Bud is also still kind-hearted and sensitive.  He encourages his younger siblings and helps them when they’re learning something new.  He has a servant’s heart when he recognizes that someone has a need, though struggles with tasks that he doesn’t see as necessarily benefiting a particular person.

He is athletic, and goofy and personable.  He loves Jesus and worships with his whole heart.  I’m so thankful for Elijah, and I love him more than words.  It is a privilege to celebrate his fifteen years today.

I am prone to thinking I have to get everything perfect – the decorations, the gifts, the food, the Advent devotionals.

I, subconsciously, think it’s my job to not disappoint anyone.

And it’s not just Christmas

And it’s not just the pressure of perfection.

It’s all the things that I think are needed before I can let go and breathe again…

…provision, healing, willpower, answers.

It’s all the things I think God would, or should, show up in if my faith were stronger, or if He really loved me, or if I finally learned whatever lesson it is He’s trying to teach me.

And I often think God must be frustrated with me because I still haven’t figured out the formula for being the perfect Christian.

But, I’m realizing that, while He might be frustrated with me, it wouldn’t be because I’m not perfect.

Because He isn’t looking for perfection.

And He doesn’t want me to be striving for perfection, or anything else.

He, in fact, knows how dissatisfying that pursuit – or any pursuit – will be for me.

He knows that even if every prayer got answered – if I became the person I think I should be – that it would never be enough.

Every gift under the tree is a sincere, but flawed, attempt to imitate the Giver, and the only perfect Gift ever given.

Every desire and pursuit, except for Jesus, is a broken cistern, destined to disappoint.

Because Jesus is the only fountain of living water, the only One who can satisfy.

And He is the only well that will never run dry.

                                         “My people have committed two sins:
                                          They have forsaken me,
                                          the spring of living water,
                                          and have dug their own cisterns,
                                          broken cisterns that cannot hold water.“

                                                                      —Jeremiah 2:13

There are a few worship songs lately that I feel are, at best, lacking context…and at worst, misleading people.  Songs that conflate what God does with Who He is.  Songs that, to my hearing, present God as more of some sort of genie in a bottle than as One who is innately worthy of praise, regardless of what He does or does not choose to do.  After all, what’s a person to think, then, when there’s no miracle, no answer, no tangible calm in the midst of a storm?  Who is God to them, then?  Hopefully, still all the things that fail to appear in some of these immensely popular songs – He is holy, just, good, sovereign, eternal, omniscient, loving, and perfect.  But, I worry, that a lot of professed Christians don’t have that full picture of our Father.

Yeah, it gets under my skin.  So, I tend to not sing those songs…or I make up my own words…and I get frustrated by worship song writers who aim for the feel-good lyrics instead of the foundation-strengthening variety.

But here’s the thing.  While those lyrics that make me grit my teeth every time I hear them aren’t ALWAYS the experience of every Christian, they sometimes are.  I can’t deny that God IS in the “business” of miracles.  He is gracious and compassionate and He delights in doing good to His children.

Honestly, though?  I don’t like to be reminded of those things.  I’ve found this Christian walk to be easier if I just conclude God is not going to show up in my circumstances.  I still believe He CAN…but, generally speaking, have convinced myself that He won’t .  No disappointment then, right?  Better to assume the trials, the wilderness, the silence are all some sort of refining process than to wonder why God shows up for other people and not me, not us.

I’m tired of trying to believe when I can’t see.  I’m weary of persisting in prayer.  I prefer not to hope, or so I tell myself.  Until some small corner of my heart leaps with…joy?…at the recognition that the God I know might just want to show up in my life…but that maybe, He wants me to believe He will, first.

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.