Helpers.

I'm sure I've written this before...but I read somewhere that when you're living life with little ones, you should always add at least a half hour of additional time onto whatever task or event you are doing to really be able to experience things the way that they do and to really be able to see things through their eyes.

And might I add onto that... to not lose your sanity!

There's no getting around it, having little helpers around is going to take more time, make more mess, call for more deep, cleansing breathes, and (more often than not), finish with less than perfect results.

At least in THIS home.

But, that's all right. It's all good.
This season is fleeting.

And how else are they to learn the value of hard work, the satisfaction of seeing something through from start to finish, and learn important skills for life?

It's here. In the home. Living life together.

Don't get me wrong...there are times when I totally want to bust a move, conquer Rome in a day, and get 'er done, too, without stopping to take the time to look at every bug, sweep up an epic mess, or make a task an entire event of an afternoon.

Balance, right?

Ransom's favorite job is to go to the chickies with his Mama every day.
He very much loves going headfirst into the feed bin to get fistfuls of food to chuck at the girls.
After every chuck, he gleefully yells: "THERE!!!!"
He is a VERY proud little helper.
The girls are less than impressed...

He also loves to dump out all of Mama's beans.
(This is where the deep cleansing breathes come in).

I find that they are also very helpful during the mixing up of the bread dough...

While we made bread together yesterday, I couldn't help but think back to all of the many times that I let both Kaden and Jesse mix up the bread just like Ransom was doing. This has been going on for seven plus years now!

And the three styles of "helping" have been fun to remember, as well.

Kaden was meticulous. He did not want to drop a crumb, and he made sure every ingredient made it safely into the pan. Jesse stirred with gusto, and often our loaf of bread was significantly smaller than it should have been, because half of it ended up on the floor! Ransom is a bit in the middle. Not as crazy as Jesse, but not wanting near the amount of help from Mama that Kaden allowed. So funny.

I am growing.
I have so far to go, but I am learning.
Only seven years into motherhood, but I am learning to let go of so many things.
I am relaxing. I am loosening my grip. I am trying to say "yes" more often.
I am trying to major on the eternal and minor on the external.

I am learning to see beauty in the mess.
And sacred in the chaos.


***********************
1688. Three little helpers with their own little styles.
1689. Grace and patience for this Mama to (always) learn and to give.
1690. Leaving (far) behind the expectation of perfect results and minimal clean up.
1691. Knowing that this season will be gone in the bink of an eye.
1692. Striving to savor the help and see beyond the mess.
1693. Praying "Jesus, help me to slow and see the sacred amidst the chaos."

Because that's what all of it is...
Sacred holiness amidst beautiful messes.

Remembering Not to Forget...

Stuff I'm thinking about for our life and our journey...

Psalm 105:4 says: "Seek the Lord and His strength. See His face continually."
Hmn. Methinks I'm not so good at this at times.

vs. 5 - "REMEMBER His works which He has done".
Remember. Do what it takes to not forget.

The very next Psalm goes into reminding us about how the Israelites DID forget.
Help us Lord, to not repeat their pattern.
May this NOT be said of us.

Psalm 106:13 & 14...
:: They quickly forgot His works.
:: They did not wait for His counsel.
:: They "craved intensely" in the wilderness.
:: They tempted God in the desert.

Jesus, what do I crave intensely that is not of You?
How often do I rush blindly into things without waiting for Your counsel?
How often do I go to others for my strength?
How often do I forget?

Major consequences took place in their forgetting...(verses 20-25)
:: They exchanged their glory.
:: They forgot God their Savior.
:: They forgot His good things.
:: They forgot His wonders.
:: They forgot the awesome things He had done.
:: They despised.
:: They did not believe.
:: They grumbled.
:: They did not listen.

Hmn. I guess the apple still doesn't fall too far from the family tree.
They forgot all of the miracles, the deliverances, the protection...the gifts.

And then verse 47.
~ "Save us, oh Lord our God, TO GIVE THANKS."
I wonder, is that the secret?

Giving thanks - in both the big and the small, the easy and the hard - helps us to REMEMBER...

And so I continue this journey....
*******************
1664. Hearing, listening, resting, waiting.
1665. Doing it peacefully - not striving.
1666. Creation's sounds - God all around me.
1676. Simple pleasures - amazing gifts.
1677. Faithfulness of my Heavenly Father.
1679. Dilly beans and strawberry jam.
1680. Food canned for the winter.
1681. Remembering God's blessings.
1682. Practicing thanks.
1683. Daily falls - daily forgiveness.
1684. Contentment in Christ - fulfillment in Him.
1685. Trusting with the details of life.
1686. Getting blessed and BEING a blessing.
1687. "The nearness of God is my GOOD." ~ Psalm 73:28

Gangbusters

That's where our garden went while we were away.

Crazy, out of control. But, in a good way.
I think things literally grew a foot in all of the sunshine.

I think I won the war on the weeds this year. I have always coveted my nieghbor, Lew's garden because there's hardly any weeds in it. Well, he always takes all of his grass clippings and puts it around all of his veggies to keep the weeds at bay.

This essentially has the same effect that straw does, only free...you just have to work for it a little more. Our lawn mower has a mulching bag, so everytime I mowed this summer, I just kept emptying it in the garden, mulching around everything, and that - along with black plastic in between the rows, has done wonders.

However. I was not the wisest in the amount of space that I chose to leave between my rows. In trying to utilize as much space as possible, I only gave myself three and a half feet between rows as opposed to (Lew's suggestion) four strong feet.

So, as everything grows, things are starting to mesh and lean into each other. My tomatoes are leaning over and kissing my beans, which are kind of winding themselves into my potatoes. My three random watermelons are spilling over into my corn, and all of my squashes and zucchinis are gettting quite cozy with my cukes. No big deal, really, but it is NOT condusive for three little pairs of boy feet to run at will - and to help their Mama with all of the harvesting. So far, one huge arm of one of my tomatoes has been broken off, and a few others have been trampled. Grace is NOT my children's middle name...

This Mama is taking deep, cleansing breathes - and a few mental notes for next year - and I am welcoming them to come and pick their peas and beans at will...often just as the sun is coming up, and in their undies, no less. And I'm not stressing (too much) the small stuff. I love seeing little fistfuls of pea pods and string beans while they're riding their bikes and swinging on the swingset.

It's all good.

And to keep up with my "G Alliteration" Theme...

Gone...is what happened to my girls while we were away.

And then there were three. Bah.

We have a young fox who is decimating my girls in broad daylight.

We built our pen to be Margaret proof - she's my neighbor who was not appreciating the visits of my ladies - we did NOT build it to be foxy loxy proof. So, some major revamping needs to be done.

By summer's end, my goal is to have these three girls still living and a lovely fox pellet rug for one of my little boys' rooms.

Just kidding.
Not really.

Lessons From Another Mama

Remember that post a few weeks back where I wrote about comparison destroying contentment?

It's subtle.
It's dangerous.
And it's something that I feel like I constantly have to guard myself against - always checking my motives and my reasons for doing what I do, handing my insecurities over to Christ, and striving to - in a good way - worry far less about what others think and do and be far more concerned about what Jesus thinks.

As my sons are growing older, I'm seeing that this is a truth that I really need to nurture in them, as well. And I need to make sure that I don't add to the problem by comparing them to each other or continuously lumping them into their little group of "the boys" - when they truly are their own little people.

They are individuals.

I see this comparing played out in the lives of my older two already. Not in bad ways, necessarily - yet - but in ways that have me watching and paying attention.

My middle one, especially, so badly wants to be like his big brother, it's almost funny. He can be to the point where he's falling asleep on his feet, but he refuses to let himself go as long as Kaden is awake. This happens especially on car trips, and he will not close his eyes until he sees that Kaden is going to take a nap, as well.

If Kaden has on a tank top, Jesse does NOT want a t-shirt. If Kaden doesn't want his life jacket on, Jesse is offended if we make him wear his. Some things come with the privilege of being the oldest, some things aren't so big of a deal, some things come with the younger brother idolizing his older. Other things need to be put into check a little bit.

In some things, as their Mama I can be helpful. But if I'm not careful, sometimes I can make matters worse. There are three little boys in my home who are their own individual selves. One is brave and daring. One is a little more tough. One is a little more tender. One has a stronger will. One is sensitive. One is more quiet. One is more social. One has a quick temper. One rarely lets his surface. One has a tender conscience. One is not afraid to take a stand.

Different interests. Three different personalities. Three different sets of giftings and passions already. This is right and this is good.

So long as I never compare.

I learned a few lessons from some Mama birds while we were at camp. It's the time of summer when the babies are starting to take their first flights, their learning to catch their own bugs, and they are becoming increasingly independent from the nest. I believe the experts call this fledging?

I found it very interesting to watch this one Mama with her little brood. She knew exactly which babies could be pushed a little bit and with which ones she needed to have a little more time and patience. I was impressed.

My kids are not cookie cutter kids.
I need to get this lesson.

In some things - like house rules - I can have the same, age appropriate expectations. I expect them to be respectful, to obey the first time, and to tell the truth.

But in other things - for one of them, I need to be a little more patient, for one I can be a little more firm, for another, I need to keep a pretty tight rein on him. One can be broken with a look. A couple others need much stronger convincing that Mama is serious.

I'm pretty sure that's why Scripture says to "train up a child in the way that HE should go." I need to be a student of my boys. I need to not compare them with each other. I need to love them individually. I need to nurture individuality in each of them.

Looking up to someone is good and right. And even wanting to wear the same clothes is okay, too. Just as long as this Mama doesn't place any undue expectations on one to perform like the other, or on one to act just like the other.

I love them all for who they are, and for who God is making them to be. I just need to make sure that they daily get this message from me - in both my words and my actions. I would never want my boys to struggle with discontentment as a result of feeling like their Mama wished them to be some other way.

Lessons learning...

From Where I Sat.

Growing up in a family of all boys, with a Mama who was (in my opinion) a very good sport about things, our family vacations were always (stereotypically) more oriented towards boy interests and such. There were no vacation rentals, lakeside cottages, or things that involved any semblance of a luxury.

And that's cool.
We were all totally okay with the adventure that most of our vacays involved.
In fact, we kind of preferred it this way. It made for some fun stories when we went back to school.

:: (Sugar cereal. My guilty pleasure. Even more enjoyable in the moonlight).

:: (Camp coffee. Brewed hot and strong. Especially delish for a crack'o'dawn early morning trip to "catch the big one.")

Our vacations often involved canoeing some river, pitching our tent at day's end, digging a hole for our potty, and swimming in the river for our baths. There was one time where I woke up in the middle of the night literally floating in my sleeping bag during a torrential downpour, because my tent apparantly had a ginorous leak. My cousin and I spent the rest of the night bundled in our winter jackets stretched out across the pick-up seats.

There was another time on the Allagash, where we got caught in a thunder and lightning storm in the middle of the water. We got to shore as quickly as possible, holed up in an abandoned camp's outhouse - no joke, all five of us. My oldest brother found a key, tried it in the camp's lock, and we waited out the rest of the storm as burgalers in a stranger's camp.

We left a note explaining the situation, along with our house address, and we got a very nice letter in response with an open invite to come visit any time we were in the area!

Good times!
Seriously. They were.
You can't replicate adventures like that!

So, a cabin on an island, with a roof over our heads, and an actual outhouse as opposed to a hole in the ground is pretty glamorous when compared to my childhood adventures!

And when four of the five of us are avid fishermen - or want to be just like their Daddy and their big brothers, and live in the boat for most of the day - I'm going to follow my Mama's lead and roll happily right along.

A good part of my week involved me sitting on my buns, nursing a strong cup of camp coffee, often snuggling a wee one to sleep to the lullaby of rocking waves, and looking at the backs of the heads of the rest of my men.

It was good, lazy, bum-numbing fun!
And really, no matter what you do, vacation with family is always fun.
And the longer I'm a Mama and wife, the more I appreciate my own Mom.
You set the bar high, Marmie...Just trying to live up to you.

*************************
1603. Boat trips at sunrise and sunset.
1606. Lullabies of wind and waves.
1607. Sunkissed skin.
1631. God's creation vast and free.
1632. Wild, rugged beauty.
1633. Mirrored glass waters.
1634. And raging waves.
1635. Time to sit and be.

Rangeley...

Where our little family has been for the past 9 days.

A little slice of Heaven away from all of the rest of the world with its cares and concerns. A place to re-connect, rejuvenate, and refocus.

Oh man. It's been lovely.
Cheap fun. Just the cost of gas and groceries.
No t.v. No computers. No electronics.
Just the five of us on one tiny little island that belongs to the boys' Grampy.
With my Grampy's boat.

Boating, fishing, swimming, fires, smores, sunsets, games, pudgy pies, crayfish, minnows, one 13" trout for supper, boat trips, sleeping to the sounds of the lake and the loons, sunkissed skin, baths in the lake, coffee on the dock, late night talks, early morning sunrises, time spent with dear friends and sweet family.

Five happy campers.
Simple Fun.

And now we are HOME.
And we are blessed.

To My Dad...

Daddy-O...

They say I'm the most like you.

Funny - because I'm the only girl.
Even funnier - because you're almost always the quiet one of the bunch.
And I'm, well... NOT.

But, I take it as a compliment; and I'm always pleased to hear it.

I know that I tell you often, but I think it bears repeating. You are the first man I ever loved. (Obviously). But, you showed me - by your life and example the kind of man that I wanted for a husband and the kind of Daddy that I wanted for my boys.

They say a father's involvement in his daughter's life is one of the single greatest contributing factors in her view of men and relationships.

You did a great job, Dad.
And you gave me a great childhood.

:: You taught me Hunter's Safety and how to shoot a gun.

:: You taught me to drive stick shift - and you didn't freak out when I scratched up your new paint job on our very first lesson.

:: You taught me to make camp coffee by throwing a handful of granules into a pot of boiling water and then quickly adding cold water to settle the grains to the bottom. I still think that's one of the coolest things ever.

:: You taught me how to build a fire in my hand - verbally. We'll have a real lesson when I come up next.

:: You taught me flower and plant species, what is edible and what isn't, and how to make a one match fire.

:: You also taught me the value of hard work and how it does no good to complain.

:: You taught me that it's okay to step out of the box.

:: And it's really healthy to laugh at myself. Far better me first with everyone following than the other way around!

:: You've taught me faithfulness and committment to work and family - and that family is true ministry.

:: You've applauded my successes and put my failures into perspective.

:: And you taught me not to complicate life and not to worry about what everyone else is doing or saying.


Thanks for being you, Dad.
Thanks for a rockin' childhood.
Thanks for being a great Father - and an amazing, incredibly involved Grampy.

Thanks for the week my boys just had with you - and for the memories that you and Mom have given them for a lifetime.

Thanks for the campouts in the cabin, the pit fires and hotdogs, and the fishing in the pond. Thanks for letting them kill your lawn with the 4-wheeler and for letting them eat all of your groceries. Thanks for living life with them for a few days, for your grace and humor, and for your unconditional love.

Thanks for investing, Dad.
When my boys are with you and Mom, happiness is a way of LIFE.

Days later, they are still talking about the fishing and 4-wheeling, the brownies you made in the cardboard box, your nicknames for them - "Moose" and "Spike" - (What?!), the bb gun contests, and all of the outside play.

Thanks for re-creating my childhood with them.

If I don't tell you enough - thanks for all that you do.
Thanks for being so involved in my little boys lives.
Thanks for being you.
I love you, Dad. You rock.

****************************
1591. My father, my friend.
1592. Perfect balance of simplicity and depth.
1593. Perspective brought to all situations.
1594. Strong man, gentle heart.
1595. Deep convictions, deep committment.
1596. Many hats, many needs, no complaints.
1597. Faithful love for one woman since childhood.
1598. Godly example for three little boys.

Summer.

That fleetingly short season where we try to drink in as much of the sun and live it up as much as is humanly possible - 'cause Lord knows, the snow she be a comin' - in just a few short months....

:: (Our version of "catch and release"...catch --- and release into our tummies!)


So, for these next few weeks, we are up with the sun, and we're down way past bedtime.

We're trying to mix the fun with the play -
:: Fishing alongside of the woodsplitting.
:: Picking and selling berries along with the stopping for icecream on the way home.
:: Weeding alongside enjoying the garden's produce.


Bike rides and slip'n'slides.

In some ways, the rhythm and pace of life becomes more hectic and busy, yet in other ways - there's that easy flow that just comes with the sun and summer.

The garden is growing gangbusters.
We can't stay ahead of the mowing.
The laundry is exploding because of little boys' love affairs with all things dirty.

But, then there's Anniversary's to be celebrated!
(Below: Bar Harbor at nighttime).

And, there's family camping trips to look forward to.
Friends from away, coming through for visits on the way to their vacations.
Always...Al-Ways...critters to be caught.

Explorations to be had.

And simple joys to be found.

Yes. Summer is to be savored here in Maine.
The season, she be short.
But while she's here, we love her.

And we are savoring....

******************
1573. Hot summer sun!
1574. Garden growing.
1575. Sun kissed skin.
1576. Strawberries selling.
1580. Childhood besty and kids - here for the day.
1581. Changes that Heal.
1582. 12 years of marriage!
1583. Hot date in Bar Harbor.
1584. Katie and Grammy babysitting for us.
1585. Bike rides and frogging.
1586. Back yard explosion of summer toys and days' remnants.
1587. Anticipation of family vacation.
1588. Evening boatrides.
1589. Letting the house be and going outside with the kids.
1590. Simple summer pleasures.

Anniversary.

To the one who I still laugh the hardest with...
...and at.

(Hence the reason why I was finding everything at the yardsale funny, my Love...
Juvenile, I know. But hilarious, none the less.)

Twelve years, six moves, and three small hoolies later...

You are still:

:: My best friend in the world.
:: My Love and my Soulmate.
:: My most favorite person to be with.
:: The One who I would follow to the ends of the Earth.

Thank you for our life.
Thank you for our boys.
Thank you for your fun, your care, and your 110% that you give us each and every day.

Happy Anniversary, my Kevy.
I love you!

Little Loves....

:: Summer (wild) strawberries. The besty best.

:: Tiny Toes.

:: Egg-ceptional Eggs.

:: Gawking Girlies.

:: Growing Garden.

"Happiness is not a station you arrive at, but a manner of traveling." ~ Margaret Lee Runbeck.

Independence Day.

The 4th of July's of my childhood are some of my absolute favorite memories of my life. My Grampy owned a camp on East Grande Lake, and after the morning parade - the entire London side of my family from far and wide - would meet down at the lake, and we would spend the day just being together. Reconnecting, swimming, eating, and hanging out until it was time for the fireworks at night.

I love those memories.

This year, our 4th looked vastly different than it ever has in years past, but it was special, as well. Early in the morning, our entire family went out to the strawberry fields and picked about sixty boxes of berries to bring back and sell at the end of our driveway. We've always talked about doing this, it's good to teach the kid's a healthy work ethic, and it's also quite helpful in paying the bills.

Plus, it was kind of fun.

We told the kids that whatever they picked, they could sell and keep the money for themselves, and I must say they have been quite the little salesmen. They hold up a box of berries and yell at the top of their lungs at the cars that drive by.

No pressure.

Anything that doesn't sell, I get to keep to make jam.
Win-win for everyone.

And in the afternoon, we did the coolest thing that we've ever done on a 4th of July.

For quite a few months now, we've been working with some friends up at the University of Maine campus - living out missional community and Tangible Kingdom stuff that we've been learning and feeling challenged to do. Trying to "be" Christ and "be" the church to people, living amongst and building relationship with seekers and sojourners, and stepping away from our solely Christian world.

Yesterday was so amazing. In recent months, three of our friends have made a committment to follow Christ, and in front of family and friends they were baptized yesterday. On Independence Day, these three made a public statement of faith that they are free in Christ, free from the bondage of sin, and free from their past.

At supper, there was a fellowship of saved and unsaved alike, Chinese friends, Indian neighbors, college seekers, families of faith, and families who are not, rubbing shoulders, breaking bread, creating new friendships, and just living life together. Afterwards, we went to the fireworks with some old, true blue friends of the faith and some new Chinese friends who don't know Jesus - but who know us and want to be with us.

So, I wasn't celebrating with my immediate and extended family yesterday. I wasn't in the comfort of my own home and my own people. There was a bit of stretching and a bit of growing that was involved. But, there was true missional community. I celebrated with some of my family of my faith and with some who don't yet know Christ, but who want to be a part of our community.

And as I sat beside my new Indian friend, and as a sweet little Chinese student loved on my boys, while new connections were made, and while fresh friendships were deepened, I couldn't help but think of this verse in Matthew:

"This gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all the nations, and then the end will come."

That's a pretty powerful verse when you think about it. This is the only verse in Scripture that tells us when the Lord will return. He will come back once the gospel has been declared to every nation. And we don't have to go overseas anymore to be Christ to every nation. They're here - living right in our neighborhoods, attending our colleges, and shopping in our same grocery stores.

Oh man. That's what I want to be about.
Being intentional.
Missional community.
Being Christ to people who may or may not ever step through the doors of a church.
Doing my itty bitty part amidst the crazyness of my own little world.

A visit over coffee, or knocking on a stranger's door - those things can be big.
Stepping out of our comfort zone, walking across a room, or inviting a virtual stranger over for a playdate can be scary.

But amazing things can happen.
Breaking down barriers, tearing down walls, being Christ while living life.
That's something that all of us can do.

And one beautiful day.....the end WILL come!
And then we'll celebrate Independence Day in the truest sense of the word.