a simple heart for home

A Day of Hope

2013-06-10T07:24:00.000-04:00

The phone rings in the middle of the night, jarring me from my sleep. My husband answers it and within a few seconds he is dressed and out the door. There is an emergency that needs him and as he is running to help, I am laying awake in the dark. My mind is racing. This is my life as an EMT's wife, and no matter how many years it has been, I never get used to it.

I lay in bed praying for his safety, and then my heart is aching for the family whose world has just been turned upside down.

5 years ago that was our moment.

That moment when the phone rings and the room just fades away. That moment when fear and confusion takes over and reality feels like a bad dream. That moment when your faith and hope is all you have and your prayers come from the deepest cries of your heart.

And then that moment becomes that day. The day you are forced to say goodbye too soon. That day when your life is forever changed. That day when you feel like you've been broken into a million pieces and there is no way to ever put you back together.

The years have gone by and it is now the day that no one wants to talk about, but nobody can ignore.
It's the day when everyone tip toes around me for fear of saying the wrong thing. But really, it's just another day. It is not any different from the other 364 days a year that I think about my brother, Matt. It is no different than every other day when I can close my eyes and bring back all those memories.
Maybe the wounds are still too fresh, but it's my desire that one day June 10th will become a day of hope.
The day when we finally realize that our prayers for Matt's healing were answered beyond what we could have imagined. A perfect healing. An eternal healing. A day when we cling to God's promises and rejoice in Jesus' victory.
Matt's life is not over. June 10th is the day when his life truly began.

Knitting Lessons

2013-05-06T09:55:00.000-04:00

This past month I had the opportunity to take knitting lessons at the most adorable little yarn shop. I have been crocheting for 10 years and tried many times to teach myself to knit, all of which ended with a tangled mess of yarn or stitches that fell apart.

I walked into the store and my eyes grew wide at the walls lined floor to ceiling with the most beautiful yarns. Every fiber, color, and texture you could imagine. I just had to touch them.

The instructor sat us at a small table and demonstrated the first steps. It felt so awkward, like eating with chopsticks (which I can't do either!).

This was so much harder than it looked. My neck and shoulders were tense. I couldn't talk and concentrate at the same time, but eventually my fingers fell into a rhythm.

Then another wave of morning sickness swept over me and I was reminded of Psalm 139:13

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.

As my hands were knitting this crooked scarf, God is knitting a new little life within me.

My needles slipped. I dropped a stitch. I let out a gasp and humbly handed my mess to the instructor. She took one look at my mistake, smiled, and effortlessly got me back on track.

Isn't that just how it is in this life?

Just when I think that I know what I am doing, I mess up again. I humbly hand my life back to God, He just smiles and brings me back.

A Fresh Coat of Paint

2013-02-26T16:32:00.000-05:00

This past weekend I painted our bathroom. It's amazing what a fresh coat of paint can do to a room...and to my spirit.

It's a tiny room. I thought I could get it finished while my little ones were napping, but it turned into a much bigger project than I had expected.

The painted trim was peeling so I had to start with sanding. We wanted to remove the towel bar, which left 4 large holes in the wall. There were spots to patch and more sanding. I started cutting in with a brush, but the room is too small for a ladder; so I stood on the counter top, then took a lunge of faith to the opposite wall. As I reached across the room, my legs burning, I tried to keep a steady hand as I painted the line beneath the ceiling. I was suspended in mid-air on only my fingertips and tip toes. My 5 year old walking in was very impressed with my spiderman skills.

Then I needed to contort myself into awkward angles to try and paint behind the toilet, wondering if anyone would really notice if I didn't.

About halfway through, a bit of panic set in. Is this color too dark? Did I make the right choice?

Change is hard.

The fears I am trying to conquer.
The hurts I want to let go of.
The bad habits I am trying to break.

It's all hard. But maybe those days when I feel like I'm not getting anywhere, maybe that's all part of the prep work. Those days when I'm filled with doubt and wonder if I made the right choice...I need to remember that change is hard.

It's easier to hold on to the familiar, even the ugly, stained walls. It's easier to hold on to my ugly because change takes time and energy, it stretches me and sometimes puts me in awkward positions. Change is hard...but it's beautiful.

Every time I walk into that bathroom I smile. I love the beautiful coffee and cream color of the walls, I love the fresh feeling in that space, and I remember all the work it took to get there.

I know that I am going to get there too.

"And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns." ~Philippians 1:6

The Little Years

2013-02-15T10:23:00.000-05:00

This week I held a friend's newborn baby. All the beauty of new life wrapped up in pink. Her tiny hands moved in slow motion and wrapped around my finger. She slept in perfect peace. Her newborn smell, the softest skin...there is nothing sweeter than a baby.

Then I looked over at my baby. Walking and climbing and full of personality, he will turn one year old this month. Where did my sweet newborn go?

Recently my husband and I made this growth chart for our children.

As I transferred their measurements to the new chart, I found myself holding back tears. It was like watching them grow up all over again.

It was hard to remember my older ones when they only came up to my knee. I looked at my little ones knowing that they are growing just as fast.

Every day the kids back up to the chart and measure each other to see how much they have grown in a day. All I want to do is hold on tight and keep them little.

Yes, these days are long, but the years are flying by.

My husband and I do talk about the future. We dream of the days when the children are independent and it's just us again. But we also want to live fully in this moment. These little years have been overflowing with joy and laughter. They have kept us busy, running non-stop on little sleep. But these years have taught us so much about ourselves and our love.

I know they will be over before we know it. There is so much that I want to teach my children, so much I want for them. I find myself scrambling, feeling like this precious time is slipping away.

But that's where I cling to grace.

I fail them. I don't have the answers...or the patience. I may run out of time before they fly. But I'm holding on to God's promise that His grace is enough.

"All your children shall be taught by the Lord, and great shall be the peace of your children." ~Isaiah 54:13

Our Everyday Fairy Tale

2013-02-13T17:26:00.000-05:00

We don't celebrate Valentine's day. We used to and I don't really remember when we stopped. Our anniversary was always much more special to us. It was a day to reminisce and remember why we chose each other. A day that was just for us, that we didn't have to share with all the other couples in America. And so, Valentine's day just became less and less important.

I honestly never thought about it until this year. This year I threw myself a big ol' pity party.

My friends were sharing all their plans with me. All the extravagant dates and romantic getaways. I cringed at the thought of all the facebook statuses with photos of their gifts and nights out.

I complained to my husband. It didn't seem fair. Everyone else was getting swept away to the ball and I was left at home to scrub the floor. My night would be just like every other night: big, messy and loud with our half-dozen running around....

He cut me off. "Do you hear yourself?!", my eyes grew wide, "Do you really want to be like them, do you really want their life? Because this is our life and I love our life together. I don't want what everyone else has. I want you."

He always speaks the truth to me. He has a way of holding up a mirror to my heart and showing me all the ugliness that doesn't belong. He knows me. He knows who I really am and he knows when I need to be put in my place.

The truth is he spoils me. He spoils me so much that I have taken it for granted.

He gives me flowers...just because. He brings home little surprises all the time. He tells me I'm beautiful every day and kisses me like he means it. He writes me love letters, though words don't come easy for him. He holds my hand every time we sit together, no matter where we are. He prays for me and cherishes me.

I was jealous of how others were spending one day and forgetting the beauty of my life that is full of love.

Our love story is so precious to me. It may not always be pretty and over the top romantic, but it's ours. It's an everyday fairy tale.

A Year of Change

2013-01-10T09:23:00.000-05:00

I was standing at the kitchen stove stirring dinner when my husband came home. He walked up to me and started playing a voice mail on his phone. There was a crazy woman in a screaming rant. My eyes widened. I recognized the voice. It was me.

I remember that moment. I was standing on a stool trying to fix something on a shelf above my head. I was frustrated and when my daughter had interrupted me, my words flew at her like arrows straight to her heart. She had been trying to call daddy, but when the call went straight to voice mail, it recorded every poisonous word.

I was embarrassed and humbled. There is nothing like seeing your failures caught on tape.

That night I cried to my husband. There is so much that I want to give these children. So much that I want to be. I am failing daily.

I don't make New Year's resolutions, but I do believe that this year is going to be a year of change for me. A year of letting go of even more and finding joy unspeakable. Something new is being stirred in my heart, but for the real work to begin I need to be laid bare.

I think that ugly moment was what I needed to see. I am thankful that it was recorded, as much as it hurt, as much as I wish my husband hadn't heard it... it needed to be brought to the light.

I am weak. I am a mess. I can't do this on my own. But His grace is enough. His power is made perfect in my weakness.

Peace

2012-12-13T09:00:00.002-05:00

This past weekend I had just walked into a busy store when a flashing red light caught my eye.

Only 17 days until Christmas!

I stopped for a moment and stared at the sign. Instantly my mind went to my to-do list, all the gifts I planned to make, all the money I don't have yet to spend, all the dozens of cookies I have to bake...and then the panic set in.

I dodged the other shoppers' carts as I made my way to the craft section. I was here to buy fabric to make stockings. Some how when I unpacked our Christmas decorations, our family of 8 only had 4. Every year I say I will make more, but I never get to it.

I touched every shade of felt and flannel trying to find the perfect one. My husband looked overwhelmed.

"Why don't we just buy stockings?"

"No." I protested, "They are going to be family heirlooms. I can just make them. Look I'll make matching ones for everyone...I can embroider our names on them...and what if I applique felt shapes on them...like angels for the girls and shepherds for the boys, and ours could have Mary and Joseph and....."

"I'm going the look in the Christmas section", and he walked away from me.

He found stockings for $6 and each kid picked out a color. Done.

I wrinkled my nose. They weren't perfect, but I gave in. I had too many other things to do anyway.

~~~

Earlier this season I had promised myself that I wasn't going to stress out this year. I wanted to enjoy Christmas. I have spent so many Decembers trying to do it all that I have missed the joy.

How did I let this happen again? I let myself get caught up in my to-do list.

I shook it off. No. This year I will keep it simple.

I had a conversation with my sister-in-law about this:
"I don't want to bake you cookies", I confessed.

"I promise I won't bake you any cookies either!" We laughed at our ridiculous deal, but I think we both breathed a sigh of relief. Freedom.

I realized that I don't have to do anything. My overachieving is not helping anyone.

What did the angels sing?
"Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth PEACE to men on whom His favor rests" Luke 2:14

Peace. When was the last time someone described the Christmas season as peaceful?

Christmas is not an emergency. Christmas is a gift.

This year I am craving a gentle and quiet spirit. I am choosing to rest in His peace and share in His joy. I still have a to-do list, but it's not a "have to-do list", it's what I choose to do.

I am going to bake cookies with my children, and let them eat all the pretty ones.

I am going to give freely without worry if it's enough.

I am going to focus on the moments that make Christmas so special and leave out the things that distract me.

Am I worried that people might be offended by this? A little, but I think that if I am feeling this way, then they probably are too. Maybe we all need to just be honest with each other, take a deep breath, and just calm down.

I want to look towards Christmas with child-like anticipation, not overwhelming worries and stress. Keeping it simple doesn't mean it will be empty. We can still have a very full Christmas, just one that is full of the things that really matter.

The Promise

2012-11-10T11:29:00.000-05:00

We celebrated our 10th anniversary at home, caring for a sick baby who cried until midnight. It was hard for me to let go of that date night with my husband. It is such a rare thing. But we needed to be there for our little one.

We stayed up late, taking turns in the rocking chair. We talked in between his screams and breathing treatments. It wasn't the romantic evening we had planned...but maybe this was what we needed more.

I'll be honest. I cried a lot. It didn't seem fair. The one day a year that is just for us...and our 10th, it was supposed to be special. I had a huge pity party for myself, even this morning I still found myself in tears.

Then my husband lovingly put me in my place. He has a way of speaking the honest truth that cuts right through me. I needed that. I needed to remember what our marriage is all about.

Our anniversary was a celebration of our life. Our whole life. This big, loud, messy life is ours.

10 years ago we promised to choose love in the good times and bad...through the sickness and health.

In honor of our 10th anniversary...

2012-11-09T14:12:00.002-05:00

...I tried on my wedding dress.

Digging through my hope chest brought back so many memories. There under the baby books and photo albums, was the dress I wore on my wedding day. It's simple and white, but it was perfect. It made his eyes light up.

I slipped it on, not sure what I was expecting. It was 10 years and 6 babies ago since I had last worn it. I zipped it up and smiled in the mirror. It fit. Granted it was much tighter than I remember...but still, it fit. I did a little twirl, because I just couldn't help myself and walked out to show my husband.

His eyes still light up.

I spun around for him and we danced in the living room. We added more beautiful memories to that dress.

Our daughter woke up and walked into the room. Her eyes grew wide and her smile grew wider. "Mommy, you look like a princess!"

I felt like a princess. We all deserve that once in a while.

In the Shadow of the Cross

2012-09-15T07:49:00.000-04:00

It was late and I was tired. Another day of filling needs, calming tantrums and cleaning up messes that I didn't make.

I made my rounds through the house; turning off lights behind me. I touched the last lamp. The glow of the moon filled the darkness. I had forgotten to close the curtains to the double window. Moonlight against the window panes cast the perfect shadow of a cross on my living room floor.

It stopped me in my steps. The image was so large and so perfect, I couldn't pull myself from it.

I had to share it with someone. I called for my husband to come see. He was already in bed; wondering why his crazy wife was staring at shadows on the floor. He wouldn't humor me.

I stood there overwhelmed by the shadow. A cross in the center of our home.

By sunrise the shadow was gone, but it will stick with me forever. What if we really lived in the shadow of the cross?

Would we be more loving in the presence of the greatest love?

Would we forgive more freely, being reminded of how much we have been forgiven of?

Would we speak with more grace in the shadow if His amazing grace?

Would we allow the same things in our home? Would we just have to share it with someone?

Because, the truth is, if we truly believe in His love and have accepted His gift of grace...if we stand up and say, "As for me and my house we will serve the Lord"; then our lives are lived in the shadow of the cross.

Our Frugal Summer

2012-08-13T12:14:00.002-04:00

Early in the Summer I was having a bit of a pity party for myself. Money is tight and we couldn't give our kids a lavish family vacation (or any vacation at all). There weren't going to be trips to the amusement or water parks. We committed to the bare necessities and I worried that my kids would resent me for it. We were just weeks into summer and already they were singing the "I'm bored!" blues.

They didn't want to be home...when their friends had swimming pools. I felt like I was always filling their requests with "No" or "Not right now...", and it all didn't seem fair.

I was frustrated. Frustrated with all that I couldn't give them, and with all that they were asking for. Wasn't I raising my children to be grateful? Weren't we striving for a simple life full of love and laughter and not just things?

How had we lost our focus? We were not being thankful for all we had and allowed things to control our happiness.

I had had enough. I didn't like who I was becoming and if I wanted my children to change, it had to start with me first.

I started a Summer Bucket List:

I filled it with simple things we loved that we could enjoy as a family for free or almost free.

Waiting for the fireworks to start

Eating watermelon outside

Taking a walk on the beach

Backyard campfires and lots of S'mores!

Blueberry picking

Growing sunflowers

Our Summer was full. As we learned to enjoy the simple things again, we became even more creative. We made so many beautiful memories.

One hot afternoon we set up a $5 slip and slide and borrowed a kiddie pool. When the kids were exhausted from playing we handed out ice cream sandwiches and ate them under my willow tree. I overheard my daughter exclaim, "A water park in our yard and ice cream?! This is the best day ever!"

I looked at my husband and smiled. Our water park looked rather pathetic, but to our children it was glorious.

As our summer is winding down we crossed one more memory off our list. We set up our tent in the front yard and slept under the stars.

I laid there in the stillness of midnight, listening to the crickets and even catching a shooting star. I looked over at my sleeping family, all 8 of us crammed in a tent on our lawn. I just had to smile. It was ridiculous, but it was beautiful.

It was in this moment that I remembered how blessed we truly are. I thought of all the families who live like this everyday because it is all they have, and the families who just wish for a roof over their heads.

This morning I am tired and sore from sleeping on a lawn that is more dirt than grass. But I think it was one of the best night's sleeps I have ever had. My body may not feel refreshed, but my heart is renewed.

"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." ~1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Join me at Smalltown Simplicity!

Morning Moments

2012-07-30T11:38:00.003-04:00

It's 5:30 am. The sun is just starting to brighten the sky. I can see the color of morning peeking through my bedroom curtains as I pull myself out of bed.

It is a rare moment when my house is quiet. I tie on my sneakers, kiss my sleeping husband goodbye and head out the front door.

I'm not a runner, but I pretend to be.

I don't know what sparked me to take this up now. I was the girl who tried to hide in the bathroom on Mile Run Day in gym class. But here I am, a 30 year old mother of 6, getting up with the sun...to run.

I hop off the last step, breathe in the clean morning air and try to keep up a good pace. I'm not impressed with myself. The road feels so much longer than it looks. But it feels good to sweat, to feel alive.

I drag myself back up the steps and sneak into that still sleeping house. No one even noticed I was gone. No one waiting to cheer me on. My legs are weak and I'm out of breath, but it's a beautiful pain.

I shower and dress and start my coffee. I wrap my hands around my mug and take a seat on the front step. I soak in the moment. The birdsongs are filling the air. Dew drops are sparkling on the grass and lining a spider's web. My Bible lays open on my knees and I pray for strength for the day.

This moment is pure peace.

I take a walk around my yard. I look for new blooms on my plants and pull a few weeds. I say good morning to the chickens.

My coffee mug is empty and I walk back inside just as the children are starting to stir.

Within minutes this quiet house erupts with energy. 6 little ones are recharged and calling for me. My husband's alarm clock is screaming. I'm making breakfast and filling bellies.

My moment is gone...but I carry the peace with me.

Linking up with Lydia!

Pulling Weeds

2012-07-11T16:33:00.000-04:00

I was inspired by reading Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts to start my own list of simple blessings. As I was reading over my list I found that I had written a particular blessing 3 separate times.

In this list full of beautiful things and treasured moments, there 3 times I had been so moved that I wrote "pulling weeds" in my thanksgiving journal.

I'm sure most gardener's would not count their weeds as a blessing. My flowerbed is cluttered with them and they grow more abundant that anything else in my yard.

Pulling the weeds has been a huge job, but it is a gift.

I love those moments where I stand bent over my garden, face flushed and dripping in sweat from the Summer sun. Dirt under my fingernails and between my toes. My hands are busy picking and choosing which plants will stay and which must go.

I take out my frustrations on those weeds. It gives me time to think, or maybe not think, if that's what I really need.

By pulling out what's not necessary I'm leaving behind only the beauty.

And there is the blessing.

My little garden is so bare. I don't know what I am doing.
I am a complete beginner and maybe that's why I find so much joy in each new flower...it feels like a little victory, a plant that I didn't kill.

When I pull the weeds I can see all my little victories in full bloom.

Now if only I could pull all the weeds in my life. All the ugliness that is hiding the beauty. All the clutter that keeps me from growing. All the lies and hurts that hide the sunshine...

God is the perfect gardener. He doesn't get tired. He doesn't forget to water. He is there ever watching and waiting to nurture me. He has a beautiful plan for me and knows what I need to grow. Sometimes it means pulling some weeds.

Stolen Moments

2012-06-11T10:58:00.000-04:00

It is hard to find quiet time with God in the midst of my crazy days. I live for stolen moments...those quiet times when I can sneak away to read my Bible or pray. It's these moments that recharge me and calm my heart.

I wrote this song in a stolen moment...and as I tried to record it you can hear the kids playing in the background and my toddler walking into the room...but that made it even more special. I hope this song inspires you to find joy in your stolen moments.

God knows my favorite color

2012-06-01T22:11:00.000-04:00

Our kitchen truly is the center of our home. It is where we cook and eat, homeschool and make crafts. The walls are lined with little fingerprints, spills and crayon art.

I have been wanting to paint for the last year and a half that we have lived here but it was never within our budget. Every time I tried to save up for it, something else always came up.

It was hard to be patient and I tried to be content, but this is where I spend most of my day, every day and the stained walls were really getting to me.

A few weeks ago I was going through the stack of paint samples that I had been collecting. I finally decided on one, "Sanctuary" by Behr, and stuck it on my fridge. I was determined to save up for it this time, even if only with my change jar.

One morning over coffee, my sister-in-law's eyes began to sparkle, "Do you want to paint your kitchen?" She ran up to her attic, pulled out the cans of leftover paint she had and marched over to my house. (She recently moved in next door!)

The next thing I know, she is brushing dark green color on my kitchen wall.

Her home is beautiful with rich, warm colors, but I know they are too dark for my husband's taste. I really liked it but she suggested that we add a little white to it. She poured her whole gallon of green paint into a bucket of white and when she stirred it, it became this beautiful and soft green; the color of rosemary.

I grabbed the paint chip off of my fridge and held it up to where she had brushed it on the wall. It was a perfect match! We could not have made it any closer if we had tried.

I started to cry. Here were 3 gallons of paint, in my favorite color, just handed to me.

God gave me "Sanctuary" just to make me smile.

2012-05-14T16:51:00.000-04:00

I hope you had a very blessed Mother's day!

Our NICU story

2012-05-12T15:52:00.001-04:00

I didn't fully grasp the depth of a mother's love until I stood over my sick child in his hospital bed.

Our firstborn was a perfectly healthy 7 lb, 6 oz baby boy. We brought him home from the hospital two days later. The next morning we received a phone call from our pediatrician. His blood test had come back abnormal, and we were told to rush him to Children's Hospital.

My head was spinning. I just couldn't understand. He looked fine, but over the next 12 hours as we sat in the ER, he became lethargic and refused to eat. He was admitted to the hospital for observation and IV fluids.

During the night his monitors started beeping frantically and nurses rushed into our room. They swept him away, leaving my husband and I alone and completely in shock.

We had so many questions and no one had answers.

I locked myself in the bathroom and just sobbed. Was our baby gone forever? I felt completely helpless.

We prayed through the night, but our words felt so empty. I watched the sun rise and hoped that it had all been a bad dream.

We were brought in to see him. His tiny frame covered in tubes and wires. His body was shutting down. His heart rate had dropped and he had moments when he stopped breathing.

He was then admitted to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

The NICU is a scary place. It is the reality of life and death on the most innocent little ones. It is a place where nothing seems fair. But it is also a place of miracles. A place you can be so thankful for and yet never want to see ever again.

Our baby boy was healed. He is now 8 years old and stands nearly as tall as me.

I don't know why the NICU was part of his story, our story, but he is a walking miracle. My heart goes out to all the mamas that are there and that is why I am so excited to share a new project with you.

NICU Daze written by my friend Elizabeth Norton and Megan Crume is a 30 day devotional for NICU families. It is written by two mothers who have been there and want to share their story in order to breathe a little peace and hope into the most hopeless of moments.

It also features my artwork on the cover! It is a drawing that I made during my first pregnancy and then had it sitting by our baby's bed in the NICU.

It is currently available for Kindle only and debuts on Mother's day. All proceeds made on Sunday, May 13th, 2012 will go to the Ronald McDonald house; a home away from home for many NICU families.

Sunshine in my kitchen

2012-05-03T12:22:00.000-04:00

I love beautiful things. I am guilty of ripping pictures out of magazines and cutting up junk mail advertisements, just for the beauty I see in it. I save greeting cards and scraps of pretty wrapping paper to use in other projects.

I love to make cards for friends and I've even used these pictures to make a pretty cover for my Bible and journals.

Here is my latest project:

I have been saving this picture of a sunflower for something special...and then I saw my ugly knife butcher block and decided it needed a makeover.

I grabbed my bottle of ModPodge and set to work. I applied a thin coat to the block, smoothed out the picture and then added another coat to seal. Once that was dry, I added a few more coats to protect the image. Super simple...but it added a little sunshine to my kitchen!

Beauty is Grace

2012-04-09T16:02:00.000-04:00

It's been a season of minor injuries. Bumps, bruises, scrapped knees and stitches. I've lost count of how many boxes of band-aids we have gone through.

Today we added another to the list. Our daughter, the little girl who tries to keep up with her 3 older brothers, fell off one of our kitchen stools and landed on her face.

I watched it happen in what seemed like slow motion, then a scream and blood poured from her mouth. I swooped her up into my lap and tried to calm her tears. When the bleeding finally stopped I could see that she had bitten her now-swollen lip. Then I checked her teeth.

Our baby girl with the most adorable smile, is now missing half her front tooth.

I called the dentist and was told that there was really nothing they could do. She's not even 2 years old and it's just a baby tooth.

When my heart finally stopped pounding I looked at our little girl and just cried.

She is no less beautiful to me.

I just never wanted my daughters to go through what I did. Classmates made fun of my teeth (and everything else) and it caused a deep insecurity in me that I still feel today. I stopped smiling. I tried to hide. My insecurities shaped my personality.

My baby girl is so full of joy. I don't want her to ever stop smiling.

How do we teach our daughters that they are beautiful? That true beauty comes from the light in their eyes and the joy in their hearts.

Today I became painfully aware of how insecure I really am. So many memories and hurtful words resurfaced along with the imperfections of a body that has birthed 6 children.

But the mirror is full of lies.

What is beauty?

"Your beauty should not come from outward adornment...instead let it be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit which is of great worth in God's sight." 1 Peter 3:3-4

Beauty is not the perfect smile, the perfect skin, the perfect weight. Beauty is not the airbrushed magazine covers.

Beauty is grace. Beauty is dignity and gentleness.

How do we train our eyes to see past the surface...how do we let go of the words that have hurt our hearts and cling to God's words?

"All beautiful you are, my darling, there is no flaw in you." Song of Solomon 4:7

A Day in the Life...

2012-03-28T11:36:00.000-04:00

This morning I awoke to my oldest daughter a few inches from my face. "Mommy!", I rubbed my eyes as I tried to focus. "He ripped open a bag of chocolate chips and now they are all over the floor and he's eating them!"

I sigh. I really don't want to wake up to this. I just got back to sleep after a night of nursing the baby. I mumble something about telling him to clean it up and drag myself to the bathroom. I throw my hair into a ponytail and splash water on my face. As I stare into the mirror at the dark circles under my eyes, I wonder what I am in for today.

I walk out to the kitchen to check the damage. Chocolate chips are scattered all over the floor, the bag torn in half and thrown to the side.

"Where is he?"
"Sitting in his room eating chocolate."

And then he appears. My 3 year old. Mr. Independent who likes to take matters into his own hands. He thought chocolate chips made a perfectly acceptable breakfast and helped himself to it. His ornery brown eyes only showed a slight look of guilt. Mostly he seemed proud of himself.

He was holding a bowl full of chocolate chips and as he walked down the hall, his little sister followed behind with her own bowl and melted chocolate all over her face.

Well, at least he shared.

Coffee. I need to refuel before I tackle this day. The baby has found his way into my arms again as I fill my coffee maker with water and press start. The sound of my morning energy brewing is interrupted by my husband walking past me to the laundry room.

"Do I have any clean T shirts?", he asks me sheepishly as he digs through the hamper of yesterday's unfolded and forgotten laundry.

He's gentle with me...always. He knows the morning I am having. I hand him the baby and peek into the washing machine. Oh. I forgot to dry his work uniforms. I toss the damp and twisted clothes into the dryer and search again for my coffee.

As I take a sip I try to shake off the insecurities and thoughts that I am not doing enough, that I am failing everyone.

I serve breakfast, wipe some runny noses, change countless diapers and sit to feed the baby again. In this rocking chair I can see the cobwebs by the ceiling and the toys hiding under the couch. I should really get to that today...someday.

My toddler serves me a cup of invisible tea, and I can hear a princess, firefighter and superhero playing dress up down the hall. I'm thankful for this moment. These innocent giggles. I remind myself to slow down and savor every second, every sip of imaginary tea.

I glance at the clock. It's 10 am already?

I set the sleeping baby in his bassinet and go to my room to get dressed. The smell of baby vomit still lingering on my shoulder, but there's no hope of a shower this morning. I throw on some fresh clothes, try to make this mess of hair look intentional and sweep some color across my cheeks. A dab of lip gloss makes me feel more put together, though my life really does not.

The baby calls for me. His nap lasted 5 minutes. As I reach for him I hear a splash and my toddler is standing next to a puddle of milk. I throw a kitchen towel over the spill and as I mop it with my foot, I realize that I have yet to sweep up the chocolate chips that are still scattered under the kitchen table.

I struggled out the back door with an overfilled trash bag. I disciplined children and defused a temper tantrum. I attempted to teach 3 math lessons and cleaned up the bag of cat food that someone had left on the floor....all before lunch.

I never did bake the cookies I had planned to. The cobwebs are still in the corners and yesterday's laundry is still sitting unfolded.

But today, I decided to choose joy.

Today wasn't anything special and I certainly didn't wake up with the best attitude, but this is my life. It is full of messy chaos, but it's a beautiful mess. I am learning that a little laughter can calm a heart. Seeking joy in the simple moments can overcome the stress of all of life's little emergencies.

New Life

2012-03-20T22:30:00.001-04:00

It was the perfect Spring day. Sunshine covering our skin like a warm blanket. A fresh breeze running it's fingers through my hair. I wore my white skirt today; the flowing peasant one that twirls around me as I walk and makes me feel beautiful.

My children are covered in dirt. This beautiful mess the remains of a day full of play.

My tulips are starting to bloom. Green new growth bursting through the dry ground with pops of color just to make me smile.

New life.

Spring brings beauty and refreshment. There is an excitement in the air that only comes this time of year. There is new life growing in my heart as well. This new season feels like a fresh start. A new day bringing hope.

All I Need

2012-03-02T15:37:00.002-05:00

My first day home alone with all 6 children felt like a bit of a disaster. Everyone needed me and there was never enough.

I wasn't trying to do it all, but with even the bare necessities of life I felt like a failure. I hadn't showered or eaten. I yelled...a lot. I even burned the kids' lunch while I was nursing the baby.

Then my husband walked in the door and I burst into tears. He had stopped by during his lunch break to check on me and just seeing him brought so much relief, but I was also embarrassed. I felt like I should be better at this.

Maybe I cried out of exhaustion or my hormones, or maybe it was the fear that maybe I just can't do this.

The next day my mother came over to help me. She brought me a list titled "10 Real Helps for Really Busy Moms" by Ann Voskamp of One Thousand Gifts.

I placed it on my refrigerator and have been reading it throughout my busy, overwhelming days. They are all encouraging, but here are two of my favorite quotes:

Homemaking is about making a home, not about making perfection. A perfect home is an authentic, creative, animated space where Peace and Christ and Beauty are embraced. (Perfect does not equate to immaculate.)

Believe it: I have all I need for today. The needs of our day are great, but God is greater and we call him Providence because we believe: He always provides. (And when God provides, He should be praised, and if God always provides, shouldn't praise always be on the lips?)

My days are still crazy. The laundry is piled up and there are dirty dishes in my sink. But I'm taking it slow. There is a sweet baby in my arms and love and laughter in our home. This moment won't last forever and soon life will feel normal again...our new normal.

Worth the Wait

2012-02-26T21:44:00.000-05:00

10 days overdue and 29 hours of labor later...our sweet baby boy is finally here! Weighing 8 lbs 2 oz and 20 3/4 inches long.

Still Waiting...

2012-02-16T11:56:00.000-05:00

Our baby is now a week overdue. I've never gone this late before and it's wearing me out. Waiting just feels like such a useless place. This week I have to make some decisions about being induced or just continuing to wait. I have a lot of fear and nervousness, but also a peace...it just isn't time yet.

My husband handed me his Bible earlier this week. I opened it to the bookmark and read the verses he had underlined for me.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you. ~Isaiah 41:10, 13

Tears filled my eyes. This was what I needed to hear. All this time I have been saying that I've trusted God, and I have, but as a God at a distance. He is the creator of the universe, I know He has a plan and I know that nothing is impossible for Him. Obviously, this baby is His plan and He has perfect timing, even if I don't understand it.

But then to read it in a more personal way...He will take me by the hand and help me through this, through the tough days, through the tears, through this birth how ever it happens. That brought me so much comfort.

Waiting...

2012-02-08T14:54:00.000-05:00

On the eve of my due date I am sitting here feeling much like a mother hen patiently waiting on her nest. I have a peace that this baby will come at the right time. I'm not in a hurry to put myself into labor, I know that every day of my child's life is planned in God's heart, especially his birthday.

But I also feel like a bit of a ticking time bomb...it could be any day now and it makes me scared to leave the house. I've been getting phone calls every day from friends and family waiting for the news...only for me to disappoint them with the reality that nothing is happening...yet.

And so we wait...

I did finish my baby blanket...and then a hat and pair of booties.

Today I have been obsessively nesting, so maybe that's a good sign. I just don't know what else to do with myself.