Learning from my Littles.

Little boy joys....
 "A perfect day to a little boy means, 
a scrape on the knee,
mud on his face,
and collecting bugs in the garden."
~ Author Unknown ~
 Stop the rushing.
Live the present.

"Wherever you are, be ALL there."
~ Elisabeth Elliott ~
 "No man can live without joy."
~ Thomas Aquinas ~

So, today...."I will take the joy." ~ Habakkuk 3:18
I will learn from my Loves...

There is indeed, sacred in the simplicity.

"Happiness is not a station you arrive at, but a manner of traveling." ~ Margaret Lee Runbeck
My boys, they teach me well.

While We Hope for Tomorrow...

Low in the grave he lay....
Jesus my Savior.

Waiting the coming Day...
Jesus my Lord.

Why we Need Easter Most of All...

I know this Mama who grew up the whole of her life without ever hearing the words, "I love you" out of her own mother's mouth.  No kisses, no hugs, and not one time hearing those three little words spoken - words that most of us find so very easy to say, and for most of us - words that we ourselves have heard for all of our own lives.

And yet, when that little girl grew up and became a Mama herself - she determined in her heart that she would break that cycle of dysfunction.  She told herself that her children would never have to guess if they were loved by her or not.  They would never have to wonder, and they would always know.  And she did it.  She intentionally raised her kids in a home where the words, "I love you" were freely spoken and received, and where - though perfect she was not - they never ever once doubted their Mama's love for them.

Grace poured out.

And I know this Daddy who lost his own in that pivotal stage of life - when he was just a too young boy himself.  And so he grew up into manhood never seeing the husband/wife love and relationship lived out on a daily basis at home, never having the ear of a father to hear his hurts and his fears, and never really getting to see and watch - to listen and to learn - what a healthy day to day husband and father should look like in a home and with a family.

And yet, when that little boy grew up and became a husband and a Daddy himself - he determined in his heart that he would never intentionally leave his family.  He would trust the Heavenly Bridegroom to teach him what a loving and faithful husband should look like....and He would love his babies with abandon.  He would listen to their hurts and fears, and he would be there for them always and forever no matter what.  And so far, that's exactly what he has done.

Grace poured out.

And I know these handfuls of other boy-men who actually did grow up in homes with their Fathers...yet, these weren't Daddies who were present.  And they weren't Fathers who knew how to teach their sons how to grow up to be "real men."  By their Daddy's actions, the boys read that they weren't loved, and by their Daddy's lifestyle, the boys felt like they didn't matter.  And, so now they are grown up men - with the pressures of all of the world weighing heavy on their own shoulders....and yet, deep down inside they are still little boys with hearts bleeding raw.  Boy-men, who needed their Daddies then...and who still so desperately need them now...

And boy-men who need to see and to experience that God-grace pressed down and poured out.
Over-flowing and in abundance to heal all of those heart hurts.

And maybe those growing older Daddies need that God-grace, too.
Maybe they need to see and experience redemption.  And forgiveness.  And mercy shown to them, as well.

And I know these handfuls of girls who are trying so desperately to become women - but they have for so long let culture and society define "womanhood" for them - that they honestly have no idea what a true woman should even look like.  One who deserves respect and dignity, and one who can - and who should - have high expectations and standards for a man, because that's what a woman deserves.  Yet, these girls, instead, continue to choose from the bottom of the barrel, they continue to exchange sex in the hopes of getting true love in return, and they over and over again have their hearts broken by boy after boy after boy...and are left perpetually wondering:  "What is wrong with Me?"

Women -- insecure and unloved little girl-women -- who so very desperately need to see and to experience that God-grace pressed down and poured out.  Over-flowing and in abundance to heal all of those heart hurts.  And maybe all of those breaking-hearts boys need to see that God-grace, too.  Maybe they need to know what a real man looks like...and maybe they need the love of an Abba-Father to show honest and real love to their hurting hearts, too...

Because then what happens when these bleeding boy-men and these searching girl-women find each other and try to make a go at a life together -- in a world that today will do everything within its power to make their newfound relationship crash and burn before it even gets off the ground?

Then that God-grace will be needed two-fold.
Two broken people making a go at living life together...and who both have still raw scars...

And I know these husbands who live life daily - worried about how they will provide for their ever-growing family, concerned about how to keep their bills out of the red, and living life defeated because day after day after day they go to a job that sucks them dry and that drains them out -- yet, for the love of their family, and for the weight of the world of responsibility that rests squarely on their ever stooping shoulders....at least for now, they see no other way.  There is no light at the end of their tunnels...

Men who need to give themselves much grace; and men who need to see and experience that God-grace pressed down and poured out - that over-flowing, washing over them, let Him bear your burdens for you, life-giving, let Him carry you God grace...

And I know these wives who live life daily -- dying on the vine -- either having buried themselves so deeply in their husband's world or in this whirling life of "motherhood," that somehow, many years ago they lost themselves, and when they look in the mirror today - they don't even recognize the reflection staring back at them.  There are some who are craving and desperately begging for babies of their own.  Ones who live for the day when they will feel the stretching and the growing - that birthing of themselves into motherhood.  And then, there are some who are so deeply entrenched in the thick of mothering that most days they can't see which way is up and which way is down...Mama's who would give anything to really and truly, honestly, raw and ugly be able to share their struggles and their frustrations; their fears and their achings --- without anyone ever judging...

...And I also know these Mamas who would give anything to have just one more day of crazy...to live just one more day with their babies...because all of a sudden, in one life-changing moment, their Love was taken....and now they will be forever changed and left with a forever hole that can't ever be replaced...

Husbands and wives.  Mothers and fathers - who are barely hanging on.
Men who are boys and women who are still little girls - lost and alone; and completely torn up inside.
Marriages that are threatening to implode because life. is. just. too. much.
And relationships that once were flourishing that are now teetering on the brink of death.

People everywhere who are daily walking wounded, with smiles pasted on while their hearts are bleeding out and while their guts are twisted wild.  People brushing shoulders with the masses -- with most who carry similar, if not the very same wounds -- and yet people who so desperately believe that they are all alone.

And we live this way day after day, year after year...
Because, maybe we were never taught how or "Who" to trust...
Maybe, in our hearts, we believe the ugly lie that God is asleep at the wheel...and that He is not safe.
Maybe we have been hurt one time too many, and we refuse to open up to anyone ever again.

Oh, how God's grace is needed in our lives....
That pressed down, poured out, over-flowing God-grace in this world that is swirling with pain and with heartache.

Because this world is not our Home.
And the end of Our Story is not yet written.
And, Satan does. not. win.
And the God of Heaven - He came down.

And because, Sunday is Easter.

The Day that sin and pain and death were conquered.
And the Day that Jesus won.

If we know Him.
If we trust Him.
If we give up, and if we give in.

And one day the pain of this life, and the tears of this world will be forever exchanged for an Eternity of Forevers....where sadness won't even be a memory.

But, maybe just not today...
And maybe not for many tomorrows, either...

But Easter is the promise.

And in the meantime, we watch and we wait.
We groan and we yearn.
And while there are no easy answers - we can watch with eager expectation.
We can wait for Him to "show up."
We can expect the God of resurrection to heal us.
We can expect Him to restore us.
And we can know that He can redeem us.

And, also - in the meantime...we can walk alongside.
We can breathe for others when they themselves cannot.
We can be that "safe" someone and that shoulder to cry on.
We can be the tangible hands of hope and the heart of Christ....

...until that one day when He takes us HOME...

Re-entry.

After a whirling, swirling week-end away in Bar Harbor with an entire roomful of scrapbooking ladies getting their scrappin' groove on for three days straight...I am HOME.
This....now THIS is a masterpiece in progress....


And it surely is a nice place to be.
Although, the "re-entry" back into real life is always a bit of a shocker...

Like being awakened out of a dead-man's slumber this morning to a Ransom yelling at the top of his lungs:  "Ohhhh Daaaaadddyyyy!  Where ARE youuuuuuu?"

Or, like getting everyone settled with snacks and books, so that I could stumble back upstairs with my cup of coffee to get myself ready for the day....and tripping over - I don't really know what....myself, I guess - and spilling said cup 'o joe all over my white bed skirt.

Or...like all of us just catching up with each other because I've been gone for three days...and forgetting about the 15 GALLONS of sap that we have boiling down on the stove in the garage....and having it go waaaay past the point of no return.  And so, there goes 15 gallons of hard work and hours of boiling down gone - just like that.

You know.
Real life stuff.
Whateve....
It is what it is.

Three days of being with friends, and of being pampered with not having to make our own meals...and of getting up whenever we wanted...and of getting things accomplished without constant and crazy interruptions...and of tons of fun foodies and treats all make for the coming back HOME - whilst quite loopy  and bleary-eyed from later than usual nights of working - also make for me being refreshed and (somewhat) ready to re-enter the real world of crazy.

So, here's to coffee stained beds, and kitchens of chaos.

Here's to little boy hugs and messy, spitty kisses.
Here's to bedhead alarm clocks and the photo albums getting tucked away for another year.
Here's to what should have been maple syrup, instead turning into "Jack Wax."
 A dark, chewy molassey type of toffee.

And whilst, in the back recesses of your brain you do detect the faint taste of "burnt," it actually doesn't taste all that bad.  And the gooey-ness of it, is really quite amazing.  Like - you can't talk for a good five minutes because of all of the necessary chewing - kind of amazing.  I kind of like it.

And here's to Hubbies who conquered while their wives were away.
You rock, Kevy.  Hardcore.  And you even bathed my children while I was gone.
Now that's a real man.

For the Mama who is Weary...

Slow the pace.
Life's a journey - not a race.
Cup your hand to his small face.

Take the time.
Tell him often - "You are mine!"
Make him smile; see his eyes shine.

Watch them grow.
They'll be gone before we know.
These few years - let's take them slow.


Help us show...
All the love that our hearts hold.
Imperfections, flaws, and holes.


Hearts in pain.
For the tears that fall like rain.
Jesus knows our aches by name.


Safely know...
They are His - just ours on loan.
And this world is not our HOME.


Lose the shame.
Life is hard - this is no game.
God - He knows - Grace is His Name.
We must trust.
Give them back to Him - we must.
And He knows that we are dust...
He knows best.
Like a baby on our chest...
In Him know that you can rest.

"Blessed by the Lord, who daily bears our burden." ~ Psalm 68:19


Of Messes and Madness...

...And of gratitude and grace...
"Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things." ~ Antonio Smith.

  For whirling, swirling days of crazy...

For first days of spring...and for needing to snowblow through them.
For favorite pancakes and homemade syrup...and for endless games of Cribbage.
For reminder texts...
And for end of day wrestling matches with tired Daddies.
For cozy insides...and for still freezing outsides...with sap standing still in their buckets.
For weekend forts...and for brothers sleeping in the same bed.
For late night talks...and for listening to their late night laughter that heals the days wounds.
 For a little boys' equivalent of an "Easy Bake Oven"....and for the "candy guts" that taste like trash.
For a gracious Wal-Mart that allows said little boy to return his hard earned purchase of disappointment, too.
For chickies roaming free....before our latest winter blast.
And for target practicing Husbands who only "tease" the girls because he knows I'm watching...
For thirteen years of waking up beside him...and for it still feeling like it was just yesterday.
For him loving me - no matter what.
And for us having eyes for no-one else...
For tubby time..and for wet, sweet smelling little boys...
And for the dirty days...and sweaty, puppy smelling little boys.
For days of crazy...and for days of calm.
For days of conquering...and for the days where I get conquered...
For homemade Chai...and for when Daddy comes home.
For quiet afternoons of rest and sanity...
And for after supper dance fests that are anything but....

For the messes and the madness...
And for the growing and the learning.
For the living and the loving...
And for the giving of grace and letting go of perfect expectations.
For popcorn every. single. day.
And for the half of a bowl that always lands on the floor...

For two hour conversations with far away friends.
And for afternoon chats over "tea" with my Marmie.
For being real...and for allowing for flaws.

For little boy alarm clocks first thing in the morning.
And for big brothers who love to talk to their "baby sister."
For still wrapping my brain around the concept of a "girl...."
And for life - the crazy, awesome miracle of life - that is stretching and growing within me.
For finger smudged windows...
And for perpetually plugged potties.
For toast for breakfast....and for the days when we have it again for supper, too.
For days of thriving...and for days of just surviving...

For slowing...and for seeing - for really and truly seeing - the beautiful sacred smack dab in the middle of the crazy chaos of life.

And for doing this day, after day, after day....

"If we miss the moments, we miss the whole.  We miss LIFE." ~ Ann Voskamp
#4952-#5010 ~ My Joy Journey


Conviction from a Five-Year Old.

Here's a story:

Periodically, my boys love to browse through the pics that I post here on my blog.  They know that I write for them, and that at the end of every year I will print these posts off into a blog "book" for them to have for themselves one day.

So, today (which will be "yesterday" by the time I hit publish...as it has just been that sort of day where I can't get out of the way of myself), when my true-blue-and-bluntly-honest Jesse saw this picture that I had posted of myself over the week-end.....
...these are the exact words out of his mouth:
I shall give them to you, verbatim:

"You can lie with your pictures, can't you?  That picture looks like you're cheating and don't really have a baby in your belly."

Whoa.
Kinda' deep from a five-year old, don't you think?
And kinda' right on...

You can lie with your pictures...
And you can lie with your status updates...
And you can lie with your blog posts...

See, Jesse knows what I really look like.  He's seen me side-to, and he's seen me when I wear something other than black.  And he's right. That, my friends is why I strategically posted this picture of myself rather than a plethora of other - far less flattering ones - that I have stored in my files.  I'm going scrap booking this weekend, and I wanted some updated pictures for London's album.  Some where I was out of my yoga pants, and some where Mama had decided to do her hair that day.  Some where my 25+ pounds of weight gain looked just a wee bit more flattering than usual...

But, in the interest of keeping things real - and I do so like things to be real and not be fake...Oh, how I am trying to just be raw and real - flaws and all - and not give a care in the world as to what others might think or say...

This is my side view:
Crazy pyscho outty and all....
And to keep things really really real...
This is my side view when I am dressed in something other than black:
Yoga pants - per my usual attire - and all:
So there you have it, sweet Jesse Bear....
I cannot tell a lie.

But you asking me to post a naked belly picture is where I must draw the line...
There are some secrets that have to stay within a family.

But, that little innocent comment really did stay with me for the rest of the day.  It totally convicted me.  I do believe that my young, five-year old son very simply wrapped his wee brain around a hard piece of truth that we - especially we, women - wrestle with every day.  Especially in this age of on-line living where we only allow people to see this certain single dimensional kind of life - the life that we choose to allow people to see...and maybe a life that we can sorta' "tweak" to have others see what we want them to see...

I know I can be guilty.

And, I'm not even saying that's a horrible thing.  I don't think we need to several-times-daily puke our flaws and failings out online for all the world to see.  In fact, one of my biggest pet peeves on facebook is when people throw these little open-ended-make-you-wonder-what-they-really-mean-one-liners like:  "...is really bummed right now." out into space, and you know they are just waiting for a boatload of comments to flood in saying:  "Oh no!  What's wrong?!  Please tell us!!!"

But, that's just me.  If I'm going to throw out a woe, I'm going to be straight up about why I'm bummed. But, then again, that's just me being judgmental, too, isn't it?  Maybe that's as close as someone can get to throwing out a heartache and begging for a lifeline to be tossed back to them. Maybe that's as bold and as daring as they can go with their pain, and they are pleading for someone to toss the ball back so that they can unload their hurt.  Who am I to judge?

And, maybe this is the forever plight of the woman - the curse of being "us," where we just can't help but compare, and where we are so very quick to judge, and where we just "know" that someone else's life is better, or they are skinnier, or they have a happier home, or because they do "this," well that just has to make them a better Mama than me.

And when facebook friend #236 just accomplished "laundry, dishes, ran my 5 miles, read 5 books to my kids, and cleaned the entire downstairs and it's only 8:00 a.m.!" while meanwhile, back at the ranch, I still sit in my jammies...sucking back my third cup of coffee...with my eye balls bugging out of my head because the one day I manage to get up before the sun...the Hoolies decide to wake up right along with me....  well, sometimes this little fake world that we all live in can manage to royally set us up for failure for the day before our feet have even really hit the floor, and before the kids are even out of bed.  That's always fun.

But, then again -- maybe that same sweet Mama who just posted the update that made the rest of us all just feel like crap....well, maybe she's been having a pretty sucky week previous herself...but maybe today she woke up and managed to pull all of her stuff together, maybe it was one of those rare "conquer Rome in a day" moments....and heck, yeah-I'm-proud-of-myself-and-you-had-better-believe-I-earned-this-bragging-right-of-a-moment,-so-you'd-better-believe-I'm-posting-it-this-morning-because-you-know-what-is-probably-going-to-hit-the-fan-for-the-day-just-as-soon-as-I-hit-publish,-so-I'm-going-to-savor-this-moment-however-short-it-may-be!

And you know what?
Kudos to you, sweet Mama.

At least for me, those moments are few and far between, so when they come I'm going to wave my freak flag high and lofty, as well.  Anything to make me feel like a stellar Mama - even if it's just for one moment of  flipping glory before all h-e-double-hocky-stick breaks loose for the rest of the live long day.

Moments of madness.
And moments where we conquer.
Days that went amazingly smoothly.
And days where it's shocking that I allowed all three of my children to live.
Days where they make me proud.
And days where I would rather plunge my head into the toilet and flush repeatedly.

That's the life of a Mama.
And I find that it's much easier to share in each other's sorrows that to share in each other's joys because, at least for me, that crappy comparison trap always seems to love to rear its head at the same exact time that I honestly do want to stand and cheer you on in your victories.

But, I'm trying.  Oh mercy, I'm trying.

I do believe that we women are each other's worst enemies.  And we Mamas so desperately need to be each other's biggest cheerleaders.  We need to be real and raw with each other.  I think it's good to show the warts.  But, it's true that we also need those times where we can safely share our little victories, as well - because the Lord knows those are few and far between, too.  Those proud moments where -right or wrong - we can say:  "See?  I can play this game of motherhood, too!  We're going to make it over here.  Maybe, just maybe, I'm not going to ruin my kids for life, after all!"

And our skin is thin.
And our hearts bleed raw.
Our kids keep us humble.
And our flaws are ever glaring.
We know them.
We live them.

And this gig is hard.  And sometimes it's pretty thankless.
But, no-one knows that better than us.....
And no-one knows what each other needs better than we do...

So, here's to keeping it real.
And here's to getting out of the way of ourselves.
Here's to giving ourselves - and each other - big baths of grace.
Here's to big Barney bellies with psycho outty buttons.

And here's to:  "Jesse peed a mother load in his bed last night, I'm still in my jammies, and the boys have been watching t.v. since 7:00, and now it's 9:00, so I had best be hitting publish," as well.....

Quest for Spring.

Last week was...whew...it was a WEEK.
I swear, my kids were on crack or something - like overthetopwild and bouncing off the walls crazy.

And so, while I wouldn't say that this weekend was warm - by any means - there was some sunshine, and there were bare patches of ground....and in light of another impending storm or two that are potentially on the horizon for this week ---- just, shoot me now ----- two different times these past two days we bundled the Hoolies and threw them in the car to find a place where they could just run wild for an hour or two and get the stink blown off of them.

Holy run-on sentence.
One of those kinds of posts, methinks...
It's Monday, after all.
Notice the child on the far right.  Whirling.  Wild Child.  Of Crazy.
And whilst I really and truly hate (I know hate is a strong word, but it's kind of like torture for me) being cold, my hormones could not handle another solitary second of three whirling dervishes literally spinning around the house and hollering at the tops of their lungs any longer.
Same child.  Jumping INTO a tree.
And it honestly was just what the doctor ordered.
For all of us.
Again.  Same Child.  Scaling...and falling out of...a tree.
I think that March makes us all up here in Maine just a little bit crazy.
It teases us with the promise of spring, and then it blasts us with a few more weeks of winter, first.

But, this weekend, we took March up on her "tease," and we bundled up well...
And for just a few hours, we ran wild.
We tasted Spring.

We blew the stink of sedentation off of our bodies.
For just a few hours, the kids didn't hear their Mama on repeat yelling:  "Oh my word!!  Chill. Out!"
And we pretended it was Spring.

This large and in charge Mama also took a somewhat amazing digger on the ice during one of these adventures...which came as no surprise, because with each and every baby in womb, I have christened them with a somewhat significant fall....you know, just to ease them into what life is going to be like on the outside...

But, that's a story for another day.