Home

I've been away for the last 3 weeks; traveling and vacationing to the best of my ability.

It's been great.

We headed cross country to the West Coast and enjoyed every minute of our much needed break. We saw grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and every other relative you can think of. We saw old friends, new friends, college friends, and church friends. We saw the sights. We saw the Pacific Ocean. We saw (and felt) rain, cooler weather, and a thermometer reading that was less than 70.

It was wonderful.

But I'm so very glad to be home.

From the very moment we walked in the front door, all the weight of saying goodbye and leaving loved ones, all the challenges of living in someone elses house or hotel, all the stress of travel and lack of sleep-- it lifted. It disappated. It was gone. We were home.

We relaxed. We let our hair down. We sighed long deep sighs of... well... of home.

The boys, while they loved every doting minute with our relatives, sighed long deep sighs too. They ran around collecting favorite toys and books that they had missed. Isaiah hugged his pillow. Joshua climbed in bed and sucked his thumb. Noah smooshed his little face into his bed sheets. And they all just smiled. And sighed. Wonderful deep sighs of home.

There's nothing quite like home.

While we breathed deep and took in our humble abode, I prayed that we would remember the reason home feels so good. It's not about our stuff. It's not about our beds or pillows, or about toys or swing sets... or even about having a spare set of clothes when everything you packed is dirty.

It's about the life that is lived here. About the memories that are made here. About family. About friendship. About love. And most importantly, about God and His love towards us. We love our home because our home is filled with His love.

Our beds are not just the places we sleep, they are the places we pray and give thanks to God for another day. The living room couch is not just a comfy place to sit, it's the spot where sweet little boys snuggle up for a story. The dinner table is not just where we eat, it's where we meet with God as a family, where we read, pray and sing to our Savior.

Home is where we really live. Where we are our real selves. Where, by God's grace, we can share our true emotions, where we can laugh and cry, display joy and sorry...where we can repent and forgive. Home is where we learn and grow. Where we train, discipline, nuture, and build relationships.

Home is not about the house, about the stuff, about the leather living room set I've been dreaming about, it's about God and His work in our family.

Thank you, Lord, for our home.

One of those moments

Yesterday, I had one of those moments.

You know, the kind of moment where you are just trying to snap a couple of sweet pictures in the backyard… when all of a sudden you start thinking about what you are doing, who you are capturing, and the amazing beauty of it all.

Yes, one of those moments.

A simple photo shoot went from an outward task to an inward reflection. And before I knew it, there were tears in my eyes as I began to truly notice the sweet little faces, the precious round cheeks, the shouts of laughter, and the mischievous grins… and the wonderment that they are mine. That they were given to me from God’s good hand.




When you see those faces, no wonder I started crying, right? Or am I just entirely too biased?

I admit that I have always been a crier and if you read any of my blog posts you’ll see this happens to me frequently. From my earliest childhood days, till my advanced young age of 28, I have shed countless tears. Most of those tears from joy and gladness, and comparatively so very few from frustration or sorrow. God has been so good to me. I am blessed beyond measure, beyond description, beyond anything I could ask or think.  Thank you, Lord, for my children.

“Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD,
         The fruit of the womb is a reward.
Like arrows in the hand of a warrior,
         So are the children of one’s youth.
Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them.”

Psalm 127: 3-5

Thankful Thursday

Unspoken Rules

I've always been thankful for unspoken rules.

I mean, isn't it nice to have an oncoming vehicle flash their lights to warn of a hidden police car? Or for your hosts to offer something to drink when you arrive? Or for your spouse to hang a new roll of toilet paper when the previous one is gone?

I'm thankful for unspoken rules.

My family had lots of them growing up: Always get permission before inviting a friend over. Confess your sins immediately and the punishment will be less.  Bargain hunt. Check pockets before throwing something in the laundry (I wish I was better about this one!)

Of course, my husband's family had unspoken rules too. And having been part of my husband's family now for almost 7 years, I've picked up on a few: never go to Starbucks without picking up a drink for Nick's mom. Always save coupons. Don't do laundry or shower between 9am and 9pm.

But I'll never forget the time I completely missed the boat on a cardinal unspoken rule. I threw away an empty sugar bag.

I didn't think twice. I was tidying the kitchen after cooking up some apple pies for our Thanksgiving celebration and tossed an empty paper sugar bag in the trash. I went about my day not even thinking about what I had done.

But later on, when Nick's dad, Louie, came home, it was again brought to light. Louie was working in the kitchen when he noticed something amiss and exclaimed,
"Who threw the sugar bag in the garbage?!?!?"

Blushing, I quickly fessed up. I figured I had thrown it in the trash when it was supposed to be in the recycling.  Or vice versa. Louie was immediately gracious and kind, and explained the problem. It was not in the wrong trash can, the problem was that it was in the trash.

Because empty sugar bags are NOT to be thrown away, of course!

Because, oh you of questioning mind, sugar bags make the best lunch sacks a guy could ask for. Sturdy. Solid. Easy to fold. They stay closed. Protect food. The lunch bag benefits are innumerable! And so I say it again, empty sugar bags are not to be thrown away!


I'll admit, it took me a while to come around on this unspoken rule... but I just recently learned the benefits. And I'll tell you now, Louie, your grandson thinks just like you.

Beyond good lunch sacks, Noah discovered that sugar bags also make the perfect play thing. They Crinkle. Crunch. Shake. Rattle.

And they taste awfully good too.

So, today I'm thankful to God for my wonderful father in law. For strolling down memory lane and remembering unspoken rules. For my sweet little son. And of course, for sugar bags.

Caught Red Handed

This past week, my 9 month old, Noah, had his well baby check-up at the local Army clinic.

I sort of dread going there. The clinic is almost always a zoo.

 Don't get me wrong, I love my military health care benefit. But I don't always find the place the most accomodating for 3 little boys and their young mother (yes, I still call myself young).

There are too few chairs in the waiting rooms
Too few bathrooms for mild bladdered two year olds
Too few TV screens with cartoons playing
Too few quiet nooks for breastfeeding mothers
And too many minutes spent waiting to see a physician.

The zooishness of the clinic often spills outside the facility's walls and into the parking lot as well:

Too few parking spaces for minivans.

However, when I pulled up to the clinic yesterday, a car was just pulling out

Right. In front. Of the clinic.

Just. As I. Drove by.


SCORE!!!!!!!

AND I didn't have to wait for the single soldier to buckle 3 children in their car seats, load the stroller in the back, pick up the cracker that fell on the floor, while shouting "I'll get you a snack in a minute!" (which is sometimes the case when cars are waiting for my parking spot. But only sometimes, of course. The rest of the time, I snap my fingers and kaa-zam, everyone is smiling cheerfully at me in the rear view mirror).

Anyway. I was jubilant. The perfect parking spot. No walk. No wait. It was just right there waiting for me. I shouted, "WOOHOO!!" to my kids as I pulled in. And continued to marvel out loud at the greatness of this parking spot, and my brilliance in being delayed at the stop light just enough time for this spot to come available.


My 2 year old, Joshua, piped up in the back seat, "Mommy, what are you saying?" In my personal-parking-spot euphoria, I understood his question to mean, what does "YayYayYay!" and "Woohooooooooo!" mean?

So I quickly explained that I was cheering because I was so excited about the great parking spot.

He frowned.

And said with urgency, "But, Mommy! You should say, '"Thank you, Lord!!"'

Caught red handed and guilty as charged.

Nothing like your 2 year old reminding you of God's perfect providence in landing you the perfect parking spot, right? 

Wasn't I just marveling at how I was delayed at the stop light just previous to turning into the parking lot? How the young soldier got into his car without delay? And was pulling out of the parking spot JUST as I drove up?

And did I really think that it was all MY doing?

Nuts.

Forgive me, Lord, for failing to thank you for your sweet providences.

And thank you, Lord, for Joshua! For his uncanny ability to catch me red handed. For the precious reminder of my need for sanctification. And for giving him a heart that is sensitive to You and Your ways.


So yes, I was caught red handed... and I'm thankful for it.

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