My sweetest girl

Birthdays in our family have ushered in some traditions. Traditions aside from the cake/candles/gifts/party ones (although we do those, too). One thing we do is let whoever's birthday it is choose what we're having for dinner. Another tradition of ours- begun when our daughter was one- is that for each birthday, Mark and I both write a birthday letter. Those letters go into a binder that will someday- in some form- be given to our children.

Today is my daughter's birthday. On the menu tonight was meatloaf and mashed potatoes- her choice. And here is that birthday letter.



Dearest sweet girl of mine,

You are five years old today! This morning you said to me, "Now that I'm five I'm probably too heavy for you to carry me." Nope, sweet girl... I am thankful there is strength in my arms to hold you-- even with you at the big age of five!

Why does five seem such a landmark? Five whole years. That's half a decade. I get a little teary on these occasions. It truly is going so fast.

As I prayed this afternoon over lunch, I thanked God for blessing us with your little self five years ago. Who knew then you would be such the little woman you are now? I see so many qualities God is forming in you, and my heart overflows with gratitude for how He is growing you up.

You are very responsible. You take instructions very seriously, and follow them to the letter (most of the time ;)).

You have such a nurturing spirit, tending to others' needs so well. You have this wonderful ability- even at five- to see a need and move to meet it. When I began going to prayer meetings during our lunch hour this year, all of a sudden once a week it was just you, daddy and the boys. Daddy told me later how you would walk straight to the fridge, begin pulling out leftovers, and telling him what you'd be eating. And then you would sit at the table with him, and so grown-up, say: "Daddy, how is work going? Who did you talk to at work today?" You were filling in my role. I love this.

You have the gift of service to others. You delight very much in helping- especially with your little brothers. Or with me in the kitchen. "Mommy, is there anything I can help you with?" is something I hear often. This summer you helped so much with the harvesting of our garden- snipping beans, husking corn, gathering apples, pulling carrots. And if I give you a task, or if it's time for your chore, you do it joyfully.

Your spirit is sweet and compassionate. When someone gets hurt- daddy, mommy, or your brothers, you often burst into tears right along with them. You are so empathetic.

You have an incredible memory. It really does astound your daddy and me... you remember things spoken long ago that we've since forgotten.

You are so social- always chatting. Even when it's quiet time, you are chatting with your baby or Flopsy or your dollhouse guys...

This year you have taken to answering the phone every time it rings (which I don't mind, except for when you're chattering all about what's going on at our house and I'm still wondering who it is, (and hoping it's not a stranger!)). You also love getting the mail, and you know good and well which mail is the fun mail and you tear those things open first. (This, I do mind!) And you've also taken to telling daddy all the important news of our day.

You began doing chores regularly this year, and am I ever thankful for your help! Right now you make your bed, get yourself dressed (and my oh my, you do come up with the most interesting outfits!), unload the clean silverware from the dishwasher, clean up the toys (you're my best cleaner-upper), clear the table, put your dirty clothes away, and recently: sort and fold all your own laundry! In addition to all those things, you are often running to and fro for mommy- retrieving a diaper, helping your brothers turn on a light, assisting in finding something, etc. What I am especially thankful for is your happy heart as you help. Thank you, my sweet girl. May your hands never tire in loving and serving others.

This past year we went through the ABC Bible Verses book, and you learned all those verses with such ease, we have tagged on many new verses. We continue to marvel at your ability to remember God's Word, and are so thankful you are hiding these words of life in your heart. Oh, how I pray that you will love God's Word. And that you will not be just a hearer, (and a knower) but a doer, too.

You joined me many times for my quiet times this year. There are days that I head off with my Bible and my journal, and you come in moments later with your Bible, and your "journal". You have joined me, laying on your tummy on my bed, praying with me for others. Your prayers are earnest, and full of faith. Your prayers are also consistent, and I have learned much from you in this. While I tire of bringing the same requests before God, you never do. You pray for the same thing, over and over and over again. Many times a day. More than any other thing, I pray that your love for Jesus and your trust in Him will grow.

Some days you will crawl into bed with me and take a nap. Oh, how I love this. It reminds me of when you were a little baby and you'd nurse and then fall asleep beside me. And I look upon your dear face and am so, so thankful. You are a joy, my girl.

This year you began sitting with us through our church service. This was instigated by you, (yet as I ponder this I wonder that it wasn't God's idea, surfacing through you wanting to be near us.) What a delight it has been to have you worshiping beside us. I have learned from you in this, too. You come to church, ready to worship. You take your coat or sweater off, climb atop your chair, and immediately raise your hands in praise to God. No matter the song. Or if you know the words or tune. :) You belt it out, delighting me and surely your Father in heaven who hears your voice. You listen to the sermon, too- and mark in your journal your own "notes". You- always my shy girl in groups- have grown in this, too. At church you are confident beside us, and shake hands and smile and give hugs and run across the church to greet Grandpa and Grandma and Gary and Diana.

I love you so much, my Ella girl. Happy birthday to you. I am thankful for a year full of precious memories with you.

Happy to be your

~Mommy

On taking time

Yesterday was a difficult day. It wasn't that my children were especially difficult. I'd say it was a fairly average day as far as disobedience goes.

My oldest two (three and four years old) touched the little lights on our front window. They know not to touch them. And I spoke harshly to them. Okay, I yelled.

My youngest (19 months) climbed atop the toy chest for the umpteenth time that day. Not to mention the too-many-to-count other times he gets up there, every other day. And each time he is sternly told "No" and gets disciplined. He knows better! And I was angry at him for not getting it. Again.

And then there's my three-year old, who dawdles at every opportunity. How many times do I have to repeat myself? All without any movement whatsoever on his part. Sometimes I wonder if he's heard me at all.

There were other things, too. But it wasn't the issues themselves, it was my response to these things that was wrong. I knew that it was me.

I talked to my husband about my day late last night, and he listened. I told him about the times the children had disobeyed , and what my response had been. I told him- through regretful tears- of my impatience, my exasperation, my frustration with the kids.

He said something then about how it takes time to do it right. And time is difficult to come by as a mother who is pulled in three different directions every day. (Or more. After all, if it's not my children who need my attention, it's the laundry piling up, the ringing phone, the dishes filling up the sink, a meal that needs to be made... and a myriad of other things.)

But what he said about time was exactly what I needed to hear. That's what I've been missing of late: taking the time to discipline properly. Bibically.

Instead I have spun around from my duties in the kitchen, witnessed an offense, abruptly (and in frustration) administered discipline. I have reacted. I have sinned in my words, in my tone and in my anger. I have neglected to stop what I am doing, take my child aside, and take the time. To ask questions. Listen and understand. Consult God's Word together. Administer the rod of correction. Pray. Hug.

I am so thankful that His mercies are new every morning. Today I get to start afresh. And I purpose- with God's help- to do it right.

*Sigh*

Ugh. I am blowing it today as a mama.

Lord, strengthen me. Fill me with Your love, grace, patience, compassion and kindness. May I be slow to anger. As You are.

But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. (Psalm 86:15)

Shape me, I pray.

May I choose a soft-spoken word over a harsh one.

Kindness instead of crabbiness.

A smile instead of a frown.

Patience in place of my impatience.

Thank you for entrusting me with these little ones. May I be faithful to honor you today in my calling as a mother.

The perfect tree

Yesterday after church we set out in search of the perfect Christmas tree. I want to be absolutely clear that the perfect Christmas tree, in my humble opinion, can not be an artificial one. And. One more thing: I don't think anyone should peruse the tied-up pre-cut varieties at any store or stand and purchase one of those. They are simply inferior. (Like I said, in my humble opinion.)

Without fail, for as long as I can remember, the weekend after Thanksgiving is when you would spot my family-- my dad, mom, my older sister, me, and my younger two brothers--traipsing through the cold Christmas tree farm, hunting for the perfect tree. Ahem. My mom's version of the perfect tree. For those of you new to this type of hunt: To find the perfect tree means that you have to rule out every other tree.

As it happens it was usually pouring down rain, and the tree farm we frequented had a valley in the middle of it, boasting some very evident drainage problems. So getting to the other side of the lake (which is where the perfect tree surely sat, according to my mom) was an adventure to say the least. Each one of us had our work cut out for us to try to convince mom that this one, here, was it. Right? The perfect tree. Before we got to the lake.

Really, as a young girl- any tree was sufficient as long as we could get back to the warmth of the car straightaway. But my mom had the deciding vote. And my mom is the most indecisive person on the planet. "Oh, I don't know. Do you think it's too sparse right there at the bottom of the tree? Maybe. I think so. Where was that other one...? No, not the first one, but the second one. Remember? The one I said I liked? Let's go look at that one again." And so off we'd go.

Over the years we developed a system. We'd get out and scour the lot, marking all the possibilities. (With leaves, rope, a twig, whatever we could find...) Then we'd go back to each one and finally, after about an hour or so had passed, my dad would say something like, "Okay, honey. Really. I think we've seen them all, now. Time to choose one." And so she'd narrow it down- to maybe the final two or three choices- and then on our way back to the one she'd decided we could cut down and take home, she'd spot a few other possibilities.

Somehow we always came home with a tree. The perfect tree.

Now, I don't know how this happened--it's not like I consciously decided that my husband and children should endure the same thing as I did growing up--but I do happen to have a very clear picture in my own mind of what the "perfect tree" is. And so the tradition continues.

I meant to detail our own hunt here in this post, but... this is far too long already so I'll do that next time.


[Photo courtesy of the stock.xchng]

Saturday gratitude

540. snow!

541. the exuberance of E & I upon peering outside this morning
542. snow nestled in the trees
543. a Creator who thought of snow
544. making a snowman. at 7:40 in the morning.
545. my children all bundled up
546. cold fingers and toes that are certain to be warmed
547. hot cocoa with marshmellows
548. the paper snowflakes we plan to make today. (Thank you, Ann!)



[Snowflake photo courtesy of the stock.xchng.]

Extravagance

A couple of months ago, on a Sunday afternoon, my husband said this: "Would it be a blessing to you if on my day off, I planned the menu, made the meal and you could have a break?"

I envisioned trying to take a break in our house while he was in the kitchen making dinner and watching all three children. The three children that would surely end up wherever I was taking my break. And the husband who may get exasperated in the kitchen. What I was envisioning wasn't much of a break.

Then he continued, "You'd have to leave the house. And you can't run errands. You could go to the fabric store, get some coffee and read a book, go shopping... "

Yes. He actually said those things. An offer like this is not a regular occurence at my house. I was nearly speechless.

"Well, YEAH. That would absolutely be a blessing. I would love that!"

And so I had two days to look forward to this break. (Which is part of the gift, in my opinion. The having-time-to-anticipate it.)

On Tuesday afternoon, Mark asked, "What time would you like to eat dinner?"

I said, "5:30". He said "It will be ready."

I left the house at around 3:45, heading for the fabric store.

At 5:20 I was home, and found Mark in the kitchen, dinner nearly ready, the table nearly set, and the children happily playing. We ate a delicious meal. As we ate, I tried to express my gratitude for such a gift (such a gift, by the way, that he is offering not once a year or once a month, even. But once a week!?!?!). I was searching for a word to describe how great it was but couldn't find it. So I said things like, "I feel like a queen..., this is just so huge..., such a luxury..." Mark smiled and was clearly delighted to have blessed me so much.

Later, he was cleaning up the kitchen (having instructed me not to even think of cleaning up; he would do it!!!), and again I tried to find the word. This time, I thought of it. Extravagant. I felt overwhelmed; this gift seemed so extravagant to a practical girl like me.

It was at that moment that I remembered something.

About a week prior to that I'd been reading about God's love for us. How full; how lavish His love is.

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge-- that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. (Eph. 3:17-19)

One of the questions in my Bible study was this:

If you can't think of an occasion when you felt lavished in the love of God, ask Him to make you more aware. God's love is demonstrative. Ask Him to widen your spiritual vision so that you can behold unexpected evidences of God's amazing love.

So I did that. I asked God to make me more aware of the magnitude of His love for me.

I'd forgotten I had asked Him. Until that moment.

Sitting at the kitchen table, expressing to Mark how grateful I was for the extravagance of his love for me, I remembered. It was then that I recognized that this was God's love for me, expressed through my husband. That extravagant, overwhelming-to-me, lavish gift was God's gift to a tired mama of three little ones. To me, Stacy. His child whom He loves so deeply.

---

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. "Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! ~Matthew 7:7-11

Still thanking Him...

...sinking my bare feet into fluffy bath rugs...a newly mopped floor...Mark's clean-shaven face...our kitchen table...the shelter of our home on a cold day... that gust of warm air that greets me as I step in from the cold ...kids who crawl into bed with us on early mornings...whispering children in church...our porch swing...our oven...Christmas shopping almost done!...grocery carts with room for two children...our digital camera... naps/quiet time at our house...my boys' brown eyes...Mark's Bible stories with the kids at bedtime... very little debt...Mark's faithfulness...authenticity in others...hardwood floors...my wedding ring...Marks' wedding band...inside jokes within our family... the hope of heaven...the gift of rest on the Sabbath...Amy's pregnancy...board games with Mark...