In all things ...

I have been on a journey of gratitude and it creates a deep and very real and abiding joy. As I'm scrubbing down the kitchen, ironing Matt's shirt for church, or sipping a cup of coffee, I've begun to give thanks in short, breath prayers. As I breathe out thanks, out goes the worry and the cares for the day and in enters more of His Spirit, and the joy overflows.

But how quick I am to forget that in all things He is good, whether that means all is peace and patience or I have come to the end of myself and just can't make it on my own.

I turned 32 last week. I am no longer thirty, nor one year past. I am, I feel, in my thirties and that seems daunting, because isn't a person in their thirties truly an adult? So often, I look around my home at scattered toys, folded or unfolded laundry, and three sets of eyes and smiles looking up at me and I wonder how I got here.

Was it really eleven years ago that Matt and I started dating? Time sure flies. I started out last week wanting to write thirty-two thanks for graces, but life happens and it didn't.

Right before we walked out the door for my birthday date on Tuesday, Bethany threw up all over the kitchen floor. I cleaned it up and mopped and was assured that I shouldn't worry about going out anyhow.

Wednesday morning, Lucas said his milk tasted funny and we discovered that the refrigerator (only a year and a half old) was no longer cooling. We later found out that the repair man couldn't come until Thursday. Of course the one part not covered in the warranty was the computer and what else would our fridge need repaired? Nothing. It just needs a new computer. Because the part wasn't covered in the warranty, the nearly four-hundred dollars worth of food loss would not be covered either.

The part had to be ordered and was not put in until this afternoon.

Friday afternoon Lucas was picked up from school, limping. Just by lifting his pant leg and seeing an ankle three times its normal size, we knew we had to go to the hospital. Three hours and a temporary cast later, we left to wait for Monday to arrive with more appointments and hopefully some answers.

I am thinking about bills and injuries and a huge grocery shopping trip to replace food and I want to panic, but worry and joy have no relationship and I must choose joy.

In times like these I understand that praise can be a sacrifice, and here I am and all I want to do is give thanks. So nearly a week late, thirty-two thanks.

51. summer squash growing in the garden
52. Nikki's beautiful smile and sweet spirit
53. the use of Robin's freezer to preserve some of our frozen meat
54. Nicholas' sweaty head when he's sound asleep
55. coupons!
56. Grace's yummy bbq and baked beans
57. hanging plants
58. the smell of jasmine
59. a house that has been clean for a week and a half (that is huge for me with these tiny little mess makers)
60. my black and pink flannel pajamas
61. two yummy meals from Robin when I couldn't cook
62. the way it seems our money was multiplied when we had to eat out several times over the past six days
63. watching Matt enjoy a documentary about Cajun women and the way they iron
64. listening to Matt's impersonation of said Cajun women
65. clean sheets
66. pedicures
67. answered prayers
68. friendships birthed in prayer
69. Starbucks gift cards
70. differentiation and growing up
71. kissing Bethany's cushy cheeks
72. Nicholas' BIG blue eyes
73. Lucas' tiny top lip
74. the way my nose fits perfectly in Matt's ear
75. Allison's cinnamon chocolate chip coffee cake
76. raspberries
77. my kids' wonderful pediatrician
78. Jessica and how much my kids' (and we) love her
79. tiny Japanese eggplants hanging all over my plant
80. anticipating a big rhubarb harvest next year
81. bread rising
82. God's graces never ending

Blessed

If you spend much time with a baby in the midst of your soul awakening to God's mercies everlasting, ever present, always renewing, you realize that gratitude is a natural human instinct.

Eyes wide with wonder, mouth full-open, bursting smile, hands outstretched, squeals of glee ... he cannot speak the thanks, but his face expresses it all. Whether it's the newness of a game of give and take, peek-a-boo, a sibling walking into the room, Daddy coming home from work, eyes rolling back and blinking thanks while nursing and then sleeping, smiling, settling back in mama's arms all milk drunk in love; a baby's whole being says thanks and he is eager to keep the "game" going.

Somewhere along the way he will lose this innate gratefulness. Please and thank you will need to be taught, but seeing the natural giddiness of a thankful heart -- what better gift to give your children at a young age than the practice of gratitude; for the lapse of instinctual thanks to be brief, that they would not come of age before realizing the overwhelming joy that comes in recognizing His face in the world around them.

Life has a way of snatching this most basic instinct from us. I live in a world that since the fall, is inundated with sin ... that which has grabbed the joy and replaced it with suffering, pain, loss, fear.

And we are in the world, but must we be of it?

In the last month, I have been searching, and it is not difficult, to find Christ's face, His Breath, goodness, blessings all around me. As I've done so, I've noticed myself grow in joy, laughing to the point of tears, relishing the simple things and quiet moments.

In the word's of that Christmas movie "Love actually, is all around" and the giver of love is our Creator and He, actually, is all around.

But what of the moments when I cannot see Him? Is He also there?

Was He there when I started in my fourteenth school?

Was He there when we lived with my grandparents one summer waiting for the doors to open at another church, with another position for my Dad?

Was He there when I had to start at a new school, across the country in my senior year?

Was He there when I was told I may never have children?

Was He there as my grandfather's mind dimmed to this world, as he became trapped in a body yearning to join his Maker?

Was He there when doctor's tried to tell me I was experiencing a threatened miscarriage, when I knew I would never hold that baby in this life?

Is He there when doctor's diagnoses are grim or incomplete, causing angst and wonder?

Is He there every time a baby loses its life to a woman's choice?

Is He there when war rages?

Is He there when work is impossible to find?

Is He there when we give way to our addictive nature?

Is He there when the good suffer?

He was and He is ...

And He is always the Redeemer.

And I am called to find Him in all things, and sometimes it is difficult and I am not the soul owner of all the hurt in the world to offer reasons or reassurance of His presence, but when He conquered death and the curtain that separated our wandering hearts from Him was torn in two, the pain was not taken away, but I, we were invited to find Him in all things beautiful, peaceful and glorious filled with hurt, pain, and causing fear. He is in all things.

I hold my Nicholas and realize that all these things are gifts. That he is not mine, but His and I, through pain, suffering, loss, more pain, but greater still rejoicing have been invited to take part in this grace. That were I to hold my third baby, I would have never held His Nicholas. And that, and this faith, is paradoxical.

If we look for it, we will find His glory, but it is weighty, and it is difficult and it is far above our capabilities to understand, but it is there and in all things I am blessed.

24. the birds singing outside my window
25. zenias everywhere
26. daughter's heart to hold and mold
27. husband's strong arms around me
28. the anticipation of brother-in-law visiting
29. other moms to learn from
30. coffee percolating
31. Bethany wanting to wear dresses all the time
32. the sound of His people desperately seeking Him
33. blueberry batter cake
34. candles
35. how cute Nicholas looks in his gdiapers
36. the very kissable indentation just beneath and to the side of Matt's left eye
37. the little mole on Lucas' neck
38. opportunity to comfort kids in the night
39. Robin's brisket ... mmmm
40. moments of prayer while walking with Allison
41. reading my friends' blogs
42. a clean house
43. kids all dirty with sidewalk chalk
44. baby with skinned toes and dirty from playing outside
45. finding Matt's wedding ring after it was missing for 3 months
46. my kids, whether six years old or newborns, and how beautiful they are
47. Johanna Geesey -- how I will miss her.
48. Praise Baby dvds calming kids and baby
49. the stillness of the house before the kids wake
50. puffy clouds in a blue sky

Bitterness and Beattitudes

These past weeks have been a period of great angst, but greater still reflection for me. Nearly three weeks ago, I watched my children say goodbye to one set of their grandparents, yet again, and my heart broke.

What was once an adventure for a young bride and groom, scuttling off to California to work his way through a venture in theology, has become so much more over the course of these most recent six years. The two are now five, and the new three may just not understand why we are so far from their papas, Mimi and Nonna.

As I stood, tears streaming down my face I allowed the hurt to transform to just one little seed. Though seeds mostly bring new life, this one is destined to choke out all that is good and lovely if it is not dealt with.

Nine years ago, days before packing up a truck and loading our little car to the brim, full of new appliances, linens, dishes and promise, a lovely lady said to me "Lindsey, do not let the seed of bitterness take root. May your spirit always remain sweet."

Frustration mounts.

Yelling ensues.

Seed burrows.

I water it with my tears.

And then I pick up a book and I am struck with the realization that this bitterness has no place in a heart -- in my heart, my life. A life I gave to God nearly three decades ago. A heart I yield to his leading at the commencement of each day. For one whose God has over the years shown nothing but goodness and kindness, albeit sometimes draped in mortal confusion, bitterness has no place here.

And what of it?

If I allow it to nestle itself in the fertile soil of my heart, what do the children who I righteously take it on for get out of life, out of me?

We were never told that our earthly life would be free from disappointment; it is what we do with our daily dose that matters.

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, because the kingdom of heaven is theirs.

Blessed are those who mourn, because they will be comforted.

Blessed are the gentle, because they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, because they will be filled.

Blessed are the merciful, because they will be shown mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart, because they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, because they will be called sons of God."

(Matthew 5:3-9 HCSB)

And I'm poor and yet blessed
Mourning and yet at peace in the palm of His hands
Longing for gentleness to spill from my lips
Ever hungry
And I reach to become filled more with mercy
I push the bitterness aside, for purity
Praying His peace would fill our home and that it would begin in me.

In the midst of the dailies, the striving and the curse of Adam and Eve that is upon us, I focus on the promise through the lens of thanks.

11. the saints proclaiming His praises
12. serving cupcakes on the porch to my kids and their friends
13. naked baby soaking my pants as he listens to the bathtub fill
14. setting the coffee pot for morning
15. the promise of English muffins with peanut butter
16. the house that remains clean for all of five minutes, because I am blessed to have four precious lives that live with me
17. a flower bed overfilled with sprouts because the kids helped us plant
18. tall, nonfat, haf-caf, extra-hot, upside down caramel machiatos on Tuesday morning and the barista who enjoys my superfluous use of adjectives while ordering
19. friends to sip coffee with
20. parents who raised me to know Jesus
21. living close enough to one sister to occasionally meet for lunch
22. a God who helps me see and acknowledge bitterness before it becomes so ingrained in my heart that I struggle to rid myself of it
23. a community of friends I may never meet who are also giving thanks

It's about more than creme brulee ...

We've had an amazing weekend, from a mother's tea with Lucas and his kindergarten class, to a dual birthday celebration for my boys at Disneyland (complete with Nonna and Papa Price), to seeing my exuberant kids running to and away from the waves of the Pacific and seeing Nicholas feel sand, eat sand, and dip his tiny toes in the frigid water, to shopping for Nick's birthday and mother's day, ending with my favorite blackberry sauvignon gelato before I head to bed.

Tomorrow is Mother's Day and I am so excited to share the day with my little gifts and to see their smiles as they reveal the treasures they've made for me. As I sit in anticipation, my eyes tear with gratefulness for the precious lives that are entrusted to me and sting with guilty realization that I am not the mother I want for them.

Every once in a while, when I am least expecting it, out of the deepest, darkest depths of my humanity I see the ugliness of my mortality emerge. Sometimes with great embarrassment, I stifle that which I wish I wasn't. Other times, like tonight, I give way to the self righteousness, feeling wholly justified in the action, but rather than peaceful satisfaction, I see the ugliness from outside of myself and realize, I am not the person I would choose to raise these children.

I am inept.

I am hateful.

I am inadequate.

... and yet, I am forgiven.

I am equipped.

I am chosen.

Wholly incapable am I on my own, but with deep thanks I rejoice in knowing that "His strength is made perfect in my weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9)

I admit that after a year of being a stay at home mom, and completing my daily tasks at the height of exhaustion, never being able to check everything off a "to-do" list, and getting no high-fives for a job well done, I have been able to think of many things I would like tomorrow to be. I've thought of shoes I want, dresses to wear, pedicures to receive, a day of rest, children sleeping through the night ... creme brulee.

I have considered myself deserving of being celebrated in a way I never have before, and yet when it comes right down to it, what tomorrow will mean for me is exactly what motherhood is.

Tomorrow, I will teach my children how to love and accept and to welcome with the love of Jesus.

Tomorrow, I will lay down my pride.

Tomorrow, I will show grace to my children when they make mistakes ...
to those who have not yet grappled with Christ's grace to them ...
for myself as I grow in accepting that I will never get it exactly right.

Tomorrow, I will take another stride toward gentleness ...

Tomorrow, I will rest in the knowledge that I am a work in progress and though I cannot do everything on my own, I am being led in raising these gifts by the one who loves me too much to not be the strength that I don't have on my own.

Tomorrow, I won't celebrate myself, but I will celebrate the precious privilege I have been given in being mom to Lucas Emanuel, our little light bearer who reminds me that I serve a God that comes near to me in my imperfection, Bethany Jordan who helps me remember that I have a safe place to hide when the world is too much to bear, and Nicholas Judah who is evidence of a God who knows my heart and brings victory to his children and accepts my praise, even when it seems a sacrifice of a broken heart.

To me, mother's day is no longer about my daily sacrifices on the journey, but rather about celebrating the three lives and one angel baby that bespeak my name as mother, and how the Lord uses them to draw me closer to his heart.

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What I think about Jillian Michaels and the 30 Day Shred, part 1

Well, after three babies, three months of severe back pain, and three weeks of chiropractic care, I have decided to take Jillian Michaels up on the shred again.  I have never completed thirty consecutive days of this workout, but strengthening my core will obviously help my back.  I had done the first seven weeks of P90X at the end of last year, and kudos to all my mommy-friends who are able to complete the whole ninety days.  For me, I found that while I enjoyed the exercise, it was challenging to sometimes have to listen to my baby crying for me while I completed such a long workout.  After P90X, I was sure that the shred would not do anything for me, but I know I need to try.  I started yesterday and have set goals for myself. 

1. I will do the 30 minute complete workout daily for thirty days.
2. I will walk to drop Lucas off and pick him up daily (2 mile (total) walk, 5 days a week)
3. I will drink 8-10 glasses of water a day
4. I will relax in the evenings with stretching or yoga
5. I will cut back on my dessert intake

Day 1 (4/15/11) Review:
The workout was more intense than I remembered, but I love the length.  It's doable for a mommy of three.  I was super sore this morning and didn't want to get out of bed ... I had forgotten about my 30-minute workout from yesterday, and once I realized that's why I was sore, I liked Jillian a little more.

Operation Nicholas Stay Asleep

He's the most darling baby ... easy going, happy, entertaining, sweet and cuddly.  From day one, he has been the easiest of my three, but after months of his asthmatic cough disrupting his sleep, he is no longer a good sleeper.  I am one exhausted momma and he is one precious 11 month old who needs a visit from the sleep doctor.

I have been pretty content with helping him ease into sleep at bedtime, but on auto-pilot in the middle of the night I end up nursing him and falling asleep and twice in one week I have awakened to him laying on the floor, crying beside my bed and it's unacceptable.  My poor, sweet Nicholas.

Anyhow, tonight commences operation Nicholas stay asleep and it's just me and him.  When we were out of town this weekend Matt told me how exhausted he is, and my initial thought was that Nick seemed to be trying to make sense of the new hotel surroundings by nursing throughout the night.  Tired ... Matt.  You don't know tired.  I probably burnt 600 calories feeding him in my sleep.  I am tired.  Tired we both are.  It just comes with the territory of having three very active kids ages five and under.

The kids sleep soundly in their beds and Matt has fallen asleep in his chair.  I sit in bed, prepared for the night ahead when I will begin the weaning process anew.  I have my Friends dvds to keep me awake and a sweet baby to readjust to the ways of early toddler-hood.  Before I drift off to sleep, I thought I'd write seven items of gratitude.  I do this now, because when I begin the day in the red tomorrow I may need a remembrance of thanks.

1. I have a wonderful husband who took us out of town this weekend.  Even with the kids tagging along, three days of not having to cook, clean or do laundry was a much welcomed break.

2. The outlet of this blog when the kids are playing or napping during the day, or my mind is wide awake while Matt's has already retired for the evening.  It's nice to have "someone" to talk to.

3. My children would rather sing worship songs than anything else.  I know they don't always get what they are singing (as evidenced by Bethany's medley that went something like "Hey, now you're a rock star, get your game on ... Holy Spirit come ..."), but it does this mommy's heart good to hear her children singing His praises.

4. The absolutely over-the-top delicious sour cream blueberry crepes I indulged in at Richard Walker's this morning.

5. The sprouts that are emerging in my garden.  I love the reminder of the new life we have in Him when we bury our old selves.

6. That I will get to visit with friends over coffee in the morning.

7. We are about to celebrate the end of our sixth year as parents.  I can hardly believe my baby Lucas will be six on Sunday!  What a wonderful journey parenthood is.



Tuesday's Update: Nicholas was up only one time last night, and I am not as tired as I thought I'd be.