Lydia J Will

Cross Clinging

2012-02-09T09:08:00.002-05:00

Nothing in my hand I bring,
simply to the cross I cling;
naked, come to thee for dress;
helpless, come to thee for grace...


~Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me
Augustus M. Toplady, 1740-1778

These past weeks have been a bit bleak around here. So many different urgent situations demanding Mama's time and energy. I look around and take in the tall mountainside of laundry, the empty refrigerator, the backlog of school assignments. The thought of getting back on top of it all too overwhelming.

The poor baby is still not at his best. He'll seem better for a few days and then spend a night awake in the dark, heat seeping from every pore and the saddest little whimpers escaping his sweet lips. I spend nights rocking and soothing and days trying to muster the energy to do the rest of it while he howls and clings to me.

Every night the kids ask "What's for dinner?" and I've got to face down another aspect of life that has simply been neglected while I tend to life's random emergencies. It hardly seems fair, I think. That my world, my jobs keep on piling up even when I feel like I'm burning the candle at both ends.

My contentment takes a serious hit and its hard for me to see beyond this, get that much needed dose of perspective. Others on the outside can see, but I just feel like I'm doing it all and yet doing none of it well. How do I "just do the next thing" when there are so many "next thing"'s to do?

He cries, again. I rush in, gather him up in strong Mama arms and his face finds my neck, showers me with hot tears. And then, without even looking, his chubby hand reaches up and finds it, the chain around my neck. Dimpled fist clasps around stark simple cross, and he clings while I rock, smooth edges branding his palm.

And I'm struck again and again at the whispers of Him all around me, even as I spend my life just buzzing from one task to the next. Every day I am shown His grace and love through these interactions, and every day I am blown to pieces.

I am just a toddler in this world, sobbing into my Father's neck, clinging to His cross. And He is strong and He will not let go, and I am safe here. I am nothing, this all is nothing, save for Him.

These reminders are what it takes for me to take a closer look and find grace in the darkest of places. For although the vice of stress grips me, seeing His hand all around soothes me and I can breathe again. If I could learn to take the good with the bad and just keep on living, I might be able to chalk up each day to a wild tangle of God's goodness.

So the kid's make a fort, right there in the living room. I make popcorn again for lunch and they don't seem to notice...or mind. "I want the red bowl!" Joboy is quite certain this time and near buries his face in the warm puffed corn. The baby finally happy, practicing patty cake in a sunspot on the floor and I quietly fold sheets. The sun pours through the south facing windows and if I close my eyes, I can feel it - the warmth of the sun on my face and the warmth of the Son in my heart.

I hand Ben his blue bowl piled high and he takes it, nods. "Thank you."

Thankful, then, today for:

A girl set right down in the midst of all those unmatched socks, hunting for treasure: 5 cents a pair.

Running water in kitchen sink, baby splashing me soaking wet.

Popcorn saving me from lunchtime blues once again

The ability to stay close to my babe when he is not well.

Colors and counting while washing fiesta with Jonah

Warm, clean sheets.

His finger, marking the place for me to read History while I sway baby back and forth.

A cross, white gold, reminding me to cling ever closer.

On Friends.

2012-02-08T08:32:00.000-05:00

We're similar, the two of us. When I met her a little over two years ago, I had no idea what that woman surrounded by 8 children would end up meaning to me. Weeks passed and we talked a little bit, and then a little bit more each time we met in the toddler room at our homeschool co op. The more I got to know her, the more I looked forward to seeing her.

I had four at the time - always a little one on my back as I ushered the older ones to their weekly classes. She was constantly surrounded by her little ones and was expecting another, soon. She was tired, but excited. To hear her talk, you'd think this 9th baby was her very first. 10 years between us, yet I didn't see it; I still don't. I was impressed by how well behaved her children were, and how quiet she was with them.

When you're a stay at home mom, it can be hard to make new friends. You find them sometimes, at the sidelines of a child's soccer game; in the waiting room at ballet. Sometimes you strike up somewhat of a connection, maybe even get together once or twice outside of the event where you originally met. For me, those relationships rarely last long - once soccer season is over, or children's interests demand a change of scenery, slowly friendships fade and make room for new ones of a similar caliber. Casual friends. Its a good thing.

I'm not sure what I was expecting. My best friends are girls I've known my whole life. Not new moms I met as recently as two years ago at my kids' homeschool group.

Yet there it is. She invited me to her home to meet her friends, our kids playing together happily in various corners. I was hooked. I wasn't expecting to find someone with whom I share so many thoughts and ideas. I wasn't expecting to confide in her the way I now do, rely on her insights and advice to this extent.

I wasn't expecting to fall in love with her family. To look forward to seeing her kids, ask them how they are doing and what is going on in their lives.

These days, I've got five kids to unload on co op day and she's got my number doubled. I sit at her dining room table sipping coffee while she folds laundry and we talk it all out: marriage, faith, family, homeschooling. She teaches me how to bake bread and brings my family meals when I'm at the hospital with a sick baby. I bring her flowers and cuddle her babies and can't get over just how lucky I am to know someone like her. We laugh and joke and poke fun at ourselves and each other.

Its easy how we get on. Natural. But when our talks get serious, I realize why it is I look forward to seeing her each and every time -

I leave her house encouraged and challenged. I leave our conversations inspired. She makes me want to be a better Mom, Wife, person. She makes me want to cuddle right up to Jesus.

For this Mama, God brought one of my best friends into my life when I had four kids and no time for friendship. And I'm so very glad He did.

Proverbs 18:24
There are “friends” who destroy each other, but a real friend sticks closer than a brother. (NLT)

The Price of Parenthood

2012-02-06T08:00:00.021-05:00

{A re-post from archives today...If you are joining us for the first time, welcome! Consider "liking" us on facebook. Once we hit 300 likes we are giving away a baby sweater! Also - I have added a "Follow Me on Pinterest" button in the sidebar, for those who were asking!}

I've heard the conjecture that children cost big, and I've seen the numbers and the justification, and still I have four and dream of more. I've seen eyes roll, heard voices whisper, and even those who ask politely for an explanation because they just.don't.get how someone in this day and age can afford a crew this size.

And it all makes me frustrated and sad, because although some truly do want the answers, they are asking the wrong questions.

The price of parenthood is not found in the cost of children's clothes, the pricetag on a fancy new stroller or even the tuition of the college of their dreams. Its not found in doctor's visits or orthodontics or hair cuts over the years.

When I'm asked how we dare, in this economy, to blatantly welcome babies and not only that, live on one income, I explain the sacrifice of one car, buying second hand, budgeting and renting a small home.

But I am not answering the right questions.

The true answer to how it works, how we make it, how we thrive here is found in how parenting has impacted us.

When we cradled that first, second, third, fourth baby, we looked into their eyes and wanted to give them the world. To us, that isn't designer clothes or trips to Disney land, although there is nothing wrong with that. We wanted something even more priceless.

For my son, I wanted a brother. For my daughter, a sister. For all my children, a mama at home. For all of them, parents with a strong commitment to each other and to God. Yes, we wanted to give them the best things of life. The things you can not find in a store or on a vacation or anywhere in the world but here.

And it does cost us. It is there looking us in the face every morning, days full of living intentionally, making sure that everything we care about is being well taken care of. Have I told my kids about Jesus today? Have I strengthened my marriage today? Have I advocated close sibling relationships? These things carry far more weight than financing a new car for a 16th birthday.

There is no way to calculate the true price of parenthood. It is beyond comprehension. It isn't about what the kids cost you in monetary terms, it is in the way they change you as a person. And on that, there is no price tag.

Following Their Lead

2012-02-03T09:12:00.001-05:00

As much as possible, whenever I can, I like to say "yes" to my kids. Childhood is such a special time, and quickly fleeting. If there is something that is safe and good, I try to say yes.

Sometimes that means giving in to the things that they beg for. Sometimes that means seeing the things that they don't even know they want yet.

For the past 6 months or so, every night my kids go to bed. Girls to the right, boys to the left, each in their gender-specified rooms. They read books and talk among themselves.

But every night, something happens. By the time I head up to bed, there are four children in one room. Usually in one twin sized bed. Every night, they end up sleeping altogether in a jumbled heap. Clearly, the girls want to be in there. Clearly, their older and younger brothers don't mind a bit. Every night I turn off the light left on in the girls room and think what a waste it is, a bedroom with no occupants.

Its so sweet to see them all snuggled up together, like puppies in a pile. And I know how fast fleeting this is. Ben will be 9 this summer. How many more years will he consent to snuggling with siblings? So I ask -- "How would you like to have both sets of bunk beds in one room? So you can all sleep together, just in your own beds?" His eyes light up. Yes.

In our small home with its oddly shaped bedrooms, I know the only way it would work is if there was nothing but beds in their sleeping room - and the second bedroom turned into a family closet. I can't help but get excited at the prospect.

Family closets are often used by large families. The concept is that it keeps all the laundry and clothing related things in one place, instead of strewn throughout several rooms. A bedroom for sleeping, a clothing-room for dressing and undressing. It is supposed to cut down on time spent lugging laundry to and fro, sorting, etc. Ours would be only for the children's clothes, not the entire family.

I'm still trying to figure it all out, to see if it will actually work for us. I google family closet ideas and dormitory style bedroom layouts. And I think and make lists and wonder if it will really be the best.

What do you think? Do you use a family closet/dormitory set up in your home?

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Psst, there's a little facebook challenge going on over at my page! If you help me get to 300 "likes" on facebook, I'm giving away this sweet little honeybee sweater!

Oy.

2012-02-02T10:19:00.000-05:00

I skipped the gym today. When the alarm beeped loud and I leapt up to keep it from waking up the baby, I remembered that my workout clothes had never been switched from washer to dryer. It felt good to clambor back into bed, into that warmed up spot between chubby baby and still-slumbering husband.

But that's where the poetry of my morning ended. Due to heading back to bed, I got up later - and badly. My oldest was burning eggs downstairs in a valiant attempt at making breakfast for his siblings. The garbage truck came and I discovered that someone had forgotten to take the trash out...again. The four year old took one of the two year old's snacks and he pulled her hair and she hit him and they both screamed and I discovered there were no coffee filters.

I think that's when I lost it and added my own bad behavior to the mix. Because that fixes everything, right?

I tend to look at things positively, because for the most part I know that this life is a charmed one. These are all what I'd call "first world problems." I'm blessed and I know it.

But still, there are those days (like this) when its hard to see the bigger picture. Days that I just do not want to fight with a child about his math work, or clean up the peanut butter smeared on the walls by the toddler. Days where I just wish they would find someone else to ask for every.little.thing. Yes, I have those days. We all do.

Still, the work is before me to be done. Laundry and dishes do not care if I am feeling particularly domestic; they demand to be dealt with. So children must be attended to and bills must be paid on time and on and on. So, I'm bolstering up and trying to focus on the positive. And in that light, I'm going to share a few things I'm enjoying these days.

~"Weightless - Making Peace with Your Body" - a book a dear friend bought for me on my kindle. Written from a Catholic perspective yet chock full of information valuable to any woman who has grown up in this culture of warped body image.

~Reading Eggs - a website for early readers on up through comprehension. A friend recommended it and my kids cannot get enough.

~ Amy Butler Midwest Modern "Fresh Poppies" - the fabric I think I am going to turn into dining room curtains.

~Pinterest - oh yes, I finally joined up. Find me there!

Well now, I feel a bit better. Off to drink the coffee I made from a rinsed out filter and take possession of this day.

What are you loving these days?

On Creating...

2012-01-31T08:59:00.002-05:00

Its a question posed more times than I can count. One that is slipped into my inbox, asked on my facebook page, posed in person.

"Where do you get it? The time to create? To sew and knit, with so many children at home?"

We all have the same 24 hours, after all. And I think about the question long after I've responded with some flip answer (I'm noticing most of my answers are about deflecting these days...) about my house being a mess, etc. I circle down and ruminate and think I might just have found what lies at the core of it all.

I believe creativity is a natural tendency present in humans -a gift, yet another way we mirror and magnify the Master Creator. When I read a pattern, sometimes I just sit and marvel at this, a lowly sock or mitten or some other utilitarian piece of clothing. The engineering present, the idea that someone came up with to take these two sticks, wrap a bit of string about them and somehow come up with something that fits and works perfectly to a fill a need - its really a marvelous bit of human ingenuity.

I've always been someone who is hands on. Someone who has had to do something for myself. As a child and a teen, it wasn't enough to hear someone say "do this, not that." I had to see for myself. Of course this resulted in a lot of heartache over the years, this need to do things on my own, not take others' words for it. I see this progression in my own work with sewing, knitting, etc. How I just throw myself headfirst into a project and learn valuable lessons along the way. Like pressing seams in quilting. Or checking gauge in knitting. It wasn't enough for me to read that you should always do that - I had to see for myself the reason behind the trouble.

Over time after trying things this way and that, I come up with something of value. I think that is what keeps me coming back again and again. Slipping the baby in a sweater worn by his older brother, I catch my breath and realize that maybe this will be a family heirloom. His are the second set of brown eyes peeping at me from out of this dear little hood, a legacy of their own. Something catches inside me.

His chubby baby bottom keeps my lap warm and his little hands clutch at the yarn when we sit together on the couch and I knit a bit slowly to make sure I don't poke sensitive baby skin with a wayward needle. My kids will remember me this way: creating. Reading patterns. Learning new things, day after day. Another type of family heirloom, the legacy of lifetime learning. One I'm proud to pass on. Its not the knitting or sewing itself that matters, but what it conveys.

All this is well and good, but you're still wondering - the time, where does it come from? To be honest, like everything else, it has to be prioritized. Sometimes that's easy, and I find the time to spend night after night quilting and leave the machine out and sweep straight pins off the floor away from vulnerable toes. Other times I knit a row while drilling spelling words and then set a piece aside. There are days, sometimes weeks, that pass without much at all. When the stresses and outside demands leave me motionless at the end of the day, unable to do much more than pour myself into bed.

But when I come back to it, my hands move automatically and I think yes, yes this is part of me. This is part of the joy that is my life. Something worth doing, for today, tomorrow, and beyond.

Someone to Look Up To

2012-01-30T09:02:00.000-05:00

I must have been 7, 8 years old that summer. Mom has a baby on her hip and chats animatedly with a downtown store owner. My brother and I, stair steps, wait anxiously for her to make her purchase (gum!) and share it with us. Boring grown up conversation buzzes overhead as I fixate on the pack of gum on the counter. So close yet so far! A comment breaks through my reverie, and I look up.

"Are they twins?" The store owner and my mom are now looking down at my brother and me. Twins! What an outrage. I pull myself up to my full height as Mom answers "no, they are two years apart." My brother has blue eyes and sandy blond hair. I'm dark - hair, eyes. Who could possibly mistake us for twins? He grins at me and I roll my eyes.

On that day, I was taller. Over the years, as we grew, one would be taller, than the other, until finally one day I stopped growing and he just kept right on, leaving me behind. The first of many ways I'd be left when he went onward.

I returned from college and married, stayed put in this little town. He went off, first to college then marriage, onward again to Medical School. Throughout the years our closeness ebbed and flowed. I had babies, lots of them. He had tests to study for on a faraway island. Whenever we were together, however, its like time had stood still. His easygoing personality and quick, effortless smile always set me at ease. And, despite the different twists and turns this life of mine has taken, he has always been encouraging, supportive, proud.

Many prayers were answered when he secured a clinical site here in Michigan, close enough to live in our hometown if only for a little while. And though I'm knee deep in homeschooling and housework and he's spending long hours at the hospital, time is made. He stops at our house, a midway point, when he goes for a run. Just enough time for a quick chat, kisses for the kids, and then off again. He visits my parents next door and sends me a text to meet him. His personality warms up the whole room and his laugh bounces off the walls like so many times before.

One day last week, we get the call. A baby, his first, made her way into the world. Seeing him as a father has only cemented in my mind the extent of his character - a man who passionately loves his family with bright, unyielding ferocity. Someone who knows where his center is, who knows what and who matters most. Someone who is wholly untouched by egotism, a man who knows that love is not weak and humble service is the true path to greatness.

Someone for me to look up to.

And as I watch him hold his infant daughter close, I know its all true. His lips touch her forehead and from this side of the room I can see it, his life laid out in one radical act of love. He inspires me every day to reach for something better.

Weekday Worship

2012-01-25T08:28:00.001-05:00

The door slams behind me and I wave as the car makes its way down the street and out of sight before heading up the driveway towards our house. Behind the old green barn at the back of the property, I can see the sky glowing pink, Sun starting her journey across the sky. Day has begun.

The house is still dark. I had stolen away in the early morning with my Mom to go on our daily walk. I enter as quietly as I can, removing running shoes and switching the coffee maker on all in one motion. I know that in just a few minutes I will be surrounded by little ones in pajamas, looking for some breakfast, so I fill a glass with water and flip through the Bible sitting on the counter, looking for a small kernel, something to hold on to during this long day.

On a whim, I turn on some hymns. Beautiful chords and words fill the house as the sun streams through my window. What if today was lived out, just one continuous exercise in worship?

In Tinkerbell pajamas, she quietly joins me in the kitchen. "Hi Mom. Can I have some cereal? It sounds like church in here..."

My whole day could be a worship service. With or without hymns. A family gathered in His name with Him as our guide and goal, lives devoted. Even wiping down windows and rinsing breakfast dishes could be all an overflowing exercise in worship. If I were to live life this way, it could change everything....

Hebrews 13:15
“Through him then let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God..."

She hums "Holy, Holy, Holy" between mouthfuls of Cheerios. Our eyes meet. Yes.

Family Rhythm

2012-01-23T08:30:00.002-05:00

All the children were in their places when I set the casserole down on the table. I slid into my spot and sighed. "It feels so good to be back." Jason lit the candles and we all bowed our heads.

This past week has been full of surprises for us. When I left the house Wednesday night, I never dreamed I wouldn't see the other children until Saturday afternoon. I hugged them goodbye and said "I'll be here in the morning." It didn't turn out that way.

In the following days, I sat crib-side in the hospital room when Peter slept, thinking about how things were going at home and straining against the unnatural feeling of truly having nothing to do but wait. Meanwhile, the children were passed from family member to family member, and, when Jason was home from work, he was making the best of a home with 4 anxious little ones and no partner to make dinner, or to brush hair, or help tuck them in bed at night.

We all just simply did the next thing - did the work that was in front of us. It felt good to be able to respond in that way, for me to be exactly where I was needed with our littlest, and for Jason to be able to tend those at home. Still, coming home could not have been sweeter. We all missed the rhythm of our family.

I'm not one for rigid scheduling, and so much of our days seems to have an effortless, unencumbered flow to it. Even so, we do have those sign posts of daily must-haves that we touch on each and every day. One of those being family dinnertime, complete with lit candles. Every night. Its the gateway to a calm evening, the beginning of the end of day, the first in a series of activities that leads gently toward that moment when I tuck them in. This past week hasn't seen much of that. Hurried meals after Dad came home from work, movies watched for too long and bedtimes left unobserved. A great upheaval to our "normal."

There's not much glamorous of this little life of ours. Its pretty simple, all said. Lots of children, laundry, dishes. And yet there is so much that is precious to us in just our daily dance.

Later on, I brush the girls' hair and they pick out pajamas and a story. "I'm so glad you're back," Dinah says, pulling my face close for a kiss.

Here in the gentle flow of our family rituals, I'm home again.

Perfect Peace

2012-01-20T13:42:00.000-05:00

"You will keep in perfect peace him who's mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you." Isaiah 26:3

From my perch on the armchair, I can hear the nurses out in the hall laughing and chatting about plans for the upcoming weekend. Here in the darkness, I watch the labored rise and fall of little Peter's chest and occasionally check the numbers on the monitor, hoping for improvement. Every now and then, he opens his eyes and looks toward me, a tiny half sigh, half whine the only noise he makes.

Excuse my absence this week - I'm spending it holed up in the hospital with my littlest one, praying for peace.

{Warmly}

2012-01-17T22:35:00.000-05:00

Well we finally had a few inches of snow fall. It only stuck around for a few days, but that was plenty to inspire me to work on a little bit of warmth over here. Between making a variety of soups (homemade chicken noodle, split pea and chili) and gallons of hot cocoa to warm up little adventurers, I found some time to finish up one long neglected pair of socks for my Mama and start some for me, too.

When I finally presented my mother with her pair and watched her slip them on right in front of the blazing wood stove, I felt it - that undeniable warmth.

Making socks takes time. Quite a bit, actually. I could knit up a pair of pants or even a baby sweater in the amount of time it takes to knit socks. Probably a few caps and half a dozen booties as well. Socks are knit on tiny needles with thin yarn, yielding thousands of tiny stitches. What's more, socks take a big hit in the "wear and tear" department - arguably more than any other knits. One can walk holes right through them. In light of the time and effort required, the thought is almost heartbreaking.

So why knit socks? Why not buy a package of crew socks from Target for a fraction of the cost of handknit socks?

There's just something about them. Not just the warmth of the natural fiber, or the harmonious connection that the color and patterning share. Something about my Mom's little petite feet, crossed at the ankles, soaking up the warmth of the fire in socks I knit for her. There's something human about hand knits, something intimate about yarn wrapped about my fingers, turning into tiny stitches, inch by agonizing inch, slowly creating something useful. Something that communicates more than I ever could. Something to wrap up in, warmly.

I've got my share of Target crew socks. And they are fine. They get the job done. But when I wear hand knit socks, I feel warm all over.

Want to knit some pretty socks too? I used the Hedgerow pattern for Mom's socks, and Hermione's Everyday Socks for mine. Yarn is Knit Picks "Stroll Tonal" sock yarn in Golden Glow and Springtime.

Lap Learning

2012-01-13T08:30:00.000-05:00

I lean forward to set my coffee on the coffee table.

"Ok, everyone ready? Here we go."

I crack open a bible, the same one I won at a church club for memorizing scripture when I was 10 years old. From his perch on my lap, Peter leans forward and periodically slaps the page. Jonah is across from me, zooming trucks around the coffee table and making them jump over my coffee. Fiona has a notebook on her lap and is writing family names over and over again, the tip of her tongue sneaking out every now and then as she concentrates and whispers the letters to herself.

Its school time at our house. I read through our scripture, history and geography lessons to a room of 5 children. Jonah leans in to look at a map. Ben answers the questions at the end of a history chapter and Dinah chimes in. "Lincoln was a great man because he really cared about people and didn't want to be enemies with the South." Right on. We move on to workbooks, and after lunch reconvene on the couch for read alouds. Jonah sits a rapt attention while I read aloud from "All of a Kind Family," and afterward Ben and I discuss inflation (due to his amazement at the children in the book being able to buy a lot of candy for mere pennies!).

I am often asked what the little ones do while I school my older kids. Anxious moms worried their youngest children need a lot of educational hand holding ask me about curriculum, etc. I have never used a curriculum with preschool children. I am mostly of the mind that childhood is short enough as it is (and shrinking dramatically each year). I want my littles to play, craft, and play some more and not worry about school.

These days, however, I'm noticing and realizing that these little ones are just as present in our learning as the older ones. Every day, the younger children have a front row seat to whatever I am working on with the olders and, while they obviously do not get as much out of it as their older siblings, it is laying the groundwork for a life filled with learning. By the time it is their turn, these concepts, ideas and stories will not be foreign to them, but familiar. And some of it will just fall into place, a major benefit of this one-tapestry life where learning and playing and living all flow together, harmoniously.

Later in the afternoon, Jonah plays with his refrigerator magnet game while I prepare dinner. I hear him muttering letter sounds to himself, carefully lining up each one. The girls play a game of Jenga on the floor in the dining room and Ben cuddles Peter on the couch while reading a book on the California Gold Rush. Perhaps one of the best parts of educating this way is showing these children that learning is not something that stops or starts at any given time, nor is it something found only in certain "educational" books or materials. Its also not just for children of a certain age. It is for all of us. Its a way of life. We're just so blessed that its the way of our life. A gentle rhythm that grows us all in knowledge, curiosity and wisdom each and every day.

A Change in the Forecast

2012-01-11T08:30:00.001-05:00

"Order up! More bread please!"

My four bigs are out on the back porch, snacking on whole wheat bread with butter and honey and playing with what is left of the Christmas boxes before I set them out with the recycling. Its another bright, sunny, warm January day. So warm, in fact, that the screen door is the only barrier between their shouting voices and my warm kitchen. I work fast, buttering slices and drizzling honey and shouting "Order up!" right along with them.

There is snow in the forecast and all of this is due to change. I know there will likely be snow in April, but this week seems endlessly golden. Joboy squeaks his trike around the driveway, just like he did all summer long. Hard to imagine we somehow have to get through real winter before Springtime comes for real.

The breeze blows lightly into my kitchen and it smells all wrong, like the earth can't make up its mind whether it is Fall or Spring. "Neither," I mutter.

The kids seem to have had enough for now, so I slip loaves back in brown paper bags and wipe up crumbs, thinking as I go. Just like the weather this year, it seems the past 6 months have seen me struggle to land on what and where I need and want to be in my life just now. I've danced around here and there, playing with different ideas and goals, but none lasted for long.

It took me taking a long hard look and giving myself a stern talking to for me to see, really see, the potential for change, growth and success. I finally know where I want to be and how to go about getting there. For me, it was about coming to a place of complete intention.

Intention in my time management. Intention in my relationships. Intention in my organization. Intention in our homeschool. Intention in my parenting.

It is a big change, and one that is taking time for me to adjust to. But the benefits? Well, so far they are blowing me away.

A Better Wife

2012-01-10T08:30:00.001-05:00

(I found this post unpublished in a folder, written in early November. I'm not sure why I never put it up, but here it is.)

These past few weeks have been tricky. A small seed of discontent leads to large torrents of self pity and before I know it I felt gridlocked in anger. He'd shake his head and I'd think "he doesn't know me at all."

This week spun on, so much work to be done and all of it seemed so insurmountable. A visit of family from far away in the cards, yes, and costumes to be made and food to be cooked and a house to clean. Much to do. So my perspective began the slow slide, warping.

I forgot it all that night.

Walking in from the cold into those bright hospital lights for the third time that. Passing the night guard with a nod, then taking an elevator, down the long hall, into a waiting room.

In this hospital, I've greeted 3 babies. In this hospital, I've said goodbye to two Grandfathers. I know these rooms well, yet tonight they look, feel, different.

I'd forgotten my bible. My knitting, too, sitting at home where I left five children with a pregnant sister.

Just me and the bag of personal items I'd collected - toothbrush, socks, pajamas.

An old man in the corner flicks the tv from one sports channel to another and then back again. I leafed through a magazine briefly, not seeing the images in front of me.

All I could see were those eyes.

His. In them I could see what I see in the eyes of my boys when they are scared, or worried, or anxious. He chewed the inside of his lip, an involuntary sign to me that, for all the bravado, he's scared.

I leaned in to kiss him and he whispered "I love you."

I read once a woman writing about the first year of marriage. She thought she could say anything and never hurt her husband. How having boys changed all that for her when she realized that inside every man is a little boy. With feelings and fears. Hiding in that 6'3" build, a little boy.

I remembered in that moment

I murmured back "I love you, too."

A Catholic hospital. Crosses everywhere, and little chapels here and there. Outside, gardens with images of saints. Places to think. Places to pray. I stay in my stiff armchair and close my eyes tight. How does one love a man? How does a selfish woman such as I become a better wife?

My eyes flew open when it came to me and I thought yes, this just might be it. Remembered how I cupped Joboy's little chin, looked deep in those eyes and talked gently with him. Quiet kindness. How I held Ben tight and told him over and over how much I loved him and how proud I was of him. How I told Peter he was my sweet boy.

Maybe loving a man is not much more than loving a boy. Gently. Kindly. Sweetly. With understanding that he's a person, just as I am. Failings and flaws and feelings and foibles, all wrapped up in parcel of unique personhood.

Maybe to love a man is to open arms, and heart, wide.

Its midnight when the nurse takes me back and his eyes barely open when he hears my voice. I stroke his pale face and whisper - "I love you, I'm proud of you. You did a great job."

A flicker of a smile as he falls asleep and I slip away into the night.

In the Bleak Midwinter....

2012-01-09T08:30:00.003-05:00

"In the bleak midwinter frosty wind made moan
earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone.
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow.
In the bleak midwinter, long long ago."

~Christina G. Rossetti, 1830-1894

Surprisingly enough, the bleak midwinter has not yet come to our little neck of the woods in Michigan. It was downright balmy today, nearly 50 degrees when I put Peter on my back and Jonah on the swing in the backyard, sun shining. I very nearly had the urge to deal with those garden boxes that were never properly laid to rest last fall, warm as it was.

Still, every Michigander (as we are called) knows that winter will indeed have some bleak days. Those days where the temps stand firm in the teens (or lower), yet the sun shines and little ones beg to be taken out to play in the deep, icy white masses that pile all around. They are coming, whether or not it may seem so on this oddly warm day in January. Yes, before I play in the garden again, there will be many bleak, frosty days.

With this knowledge, I took up my knitting needles during rest time this afternoon and concocted a wee pattern. Quick and easily finished over the course of a child's naptime. You see, I have a little one with round chubby hands quite a bit too big for newborn mitts, but a bit too small to be able to handle such things as thumbs in his mittens. Someone who needs soft cozy wool to keep those extremities warm while riding on Mama's back, pulling a toddler on a sled on a bitterly cold day.

Perhaps you have a similarly chubby-fisted baby. Or one on the way (how exciting!). Or really just like knitting tiny quick things for no reason at all. If any of those are true, you can find my quickly and probably badly written pattern below. It is truly easy, no frills, fully functional.

Please feel free to pass along this pattern as you will but consider posting a linkback if you post it on a blog or website. Thank you.

(Why wool? Wool is fabulous for many, many reasons. The reason I choose it for hats and mittens for my children is because it actually stays warm when wet - something that fleece or acrylic does not do. Wool can absorb up to 30% of its own weight in water without feeling wet. And wool wicks moisture away from the body. Even when drenched, your little one will stay warm).

Bleak Midwinter Thumbless Mitts for Baby

One Size (6-12 months)

Supplies: size 4 dpns
size 8 dpns
tapestry needle
scissors
Wool yarn, approx 50 grams (this is a great project for leftover wool as it uses very little yardage).

CO 28 stitches with smaller needles using a stretchy CO (such as the long tail method). Join for knitting on the round and K 15 row of K1, P1 or until desired cuff length. Longer cuffs keep mitts more secure, in my experience.

Switch to size 8 needles and knit in stockinette stitch for 15 rounds. Space stitches as follows:

Needle 1: 14 stitches
Needle 2: 7 stitches
Needle 3: 7 stitches

Begin Decreasing:
Round 1 - Needle 1:K1, K2 tog, K til 3 stitches on needle, SSK, K1
Needle 2: K1, SSK, K to end
Needle 3: K til 3 stitches on needle, K2 tog, K1

Round 2: K all stitches

Repeat these two rounds until 12 stitches total remain, ending with Round 1.
Join stitches using Kitchener stitch, weave in ends.

Make second mitt the same.

Put them on a little one, bundle them snug and head out into the great outdoors!

Hello?

2012-01-05T10:29:00.000-05:00

Hi there, me again! I know it has been awhile, but I hope you are still there!

We arrived home late Tuesday night from our trip to visit family in Northern Virginia. While there, the entire family fell victim to a relentless stomach bug. Here, home in Michigan, we're still recovering, and I'm doing my best to disinfect and come to some semblance of order before we fully emerge back into "real life" come Monday.

During that long drive home with frequent stops to rest, hold each one of my little ones, whisper reassurances and tuck back into car seats again, I formulated a plan for this new year. One that sees me more present in my own daily life, less distracted, more intentional. Nursing my little Peter in the front seat during one stop, my eyes filled when I realized how many times I've made this journey with little ones. 5 babies, nursing and playing in between long stretches of highway. Like these cars zooming along, my life is flying by. My time here, holding a precious person who has a special smile for me who is just testing out his skills at saying "Mama," this time is moving quickly on. If I blink, I'll miss it. This year, I'm focusing on being truly present.

With the rest of regular life, I'm attempting to kick this off Monday. It may take me a while to get the hang of it, but the general gist of it is that I'd like to remove myself as much as possible from the internet during the waking hours of my children. I hope to keep this blog updated as much as possible in the evening hours, and keep my days focused where they need to be - on these little people who need me so much, if only for these few, fast moving days.

I hope all of you enjoyed a blessed, restful holiday season. Stay tuned for projects and ideas come Monday!

Merry, Merry

2011-12-26T12:31:00.000-05:00

Unwrapping the gift of another beautiful year together and treasuring it all up in my heart:

The sound of my cousin's voice, reading the Word of God on Sunday morning.

My Aunt Beth's beautiful table laid out in all its finery.

My favorite present of 2011 - Sweet Baby Peter

Dinah with colored pencils, 3 sons under the tree, the gift of co-parenting with my best friend.

The ability to share all of this with you.

Yes, its all Merry Merry over here, and its my hope that all is quite merry and bright with you and yours, too.

These Days...

2011-12-21T16:27:00.000-05:00

Over here, we're

~wrapping Christmas presents as quickly as they come in. The stack in the back of my closet gives me such a thrill, I can't help but peek at it each time I pass by the room.

~listening to Christmas music all day long. Today's selection? Handel's Messiah.

~working on getting the house thoroughly cleaned for a party to be hosted Friday night.

~trying to keep on top of my two load minimum of daily laundry, thinking toward packing a family of 7 for a trip next week.

~dancing around the dining room turned ballroom when Mama took down the table to make room for more people.

~feeling oddly peaceful for being this close to Christmas. No rushing. No stress. Its marvelous.

~looking forward to family coming into town and the next week or so of gatherings and celebrations with those we love so dearly.

In light of so very much doing, I'll be bowing out of this space for a few days.

May your Christmas season be filled abundantly with love, reflecting that of the One who IS love and who's feet touched earth in a radical act of devotion to YOU.

Wrapping with Mama

2011-12-19T11:38:00.000-05:00

Growing up with 6 siblings, Christmas was a big deal. Far from being indulged in every possible way, my parents sensibly saved up every opportunity to give to us for Christmas so that even receiving necessities felt like gift. Need a new coat? You got one for Christmas! Winter boots? Under the tree. Socks and underwear and new toothbrushes? Stocking stuffers. We got fun things too, but the reason that Christmas felt so big to us all was that they strategically planned it that way. Also because each of the 7 of us bought each sibling a present as well. 7x7 plus gifts from Mom and Dad. Yes, it was big.

Initially, in celebrating Christmas with my own family, I shied away from big. The thought of organizing such a big gift exchange was really a bit much for me, so when they were younger I got away with doing it all. Recently I realized something unintended was happening: Christmas was becoming more about getting (to them) than giving simply because giving was not a part of their Christmas experience.

This year, I've adopted Mom's strategy. I didn't take each kid shopping or anything like that, but I have been taking each on aside, sneaking up to Mama's room, giving them a few gifts to wrap for siblings, and watching their joy and anticipation grow. There have been some unexpected pleasures along the way - quiet moments spent with just one of my children at a time , talking and enjoying one another. My husband is getting in on the fun by bring the children into his Christmas planning for me, giving them the opportunity to give their Mama a gift. The kids are sneaking around, full to the brim with Christmas secrets and you can positively see their eyes gleaming with the giddy joy of it all.

A beautiful Christmas tradition to begin, if I do say so myself.

Gift

2011-12-15T21:34:00.000-05:00

After a few super busy weeks, I took a couple hours today to just hold my little Peter. He went from giggly to quietly awake to sweetly slumbering to awake again, comfortably held close to my heart. As I watched his tiny chest rise and fall, his gentle sighs in dreamland, I couldn't shake the thought -

Its just too much. I don't deserve this. This perfect moment suspended in time, silk soft baby skin, sweet breath in and out. Its pure gift.

This Christmas, I've been given everything I could ever have wanted - and so very much more.

A Little Bit of Chocolate

2011-12-14T14:43:00.000-05:00

Last weekend my cousin threw a baby shower and asked me to bring along a dessert to help out. I was glad that she mentioned that something chocolate might be good, because chocolate I can do...rather well.

I've been making brownies since I was a young teen - first for my family, and then for friends and cute boys. My sister and I probably baked at least one batch a week, not to mention for Mom's annual Christmas Eve party. My mom kept our cupboards stocked with supplies and everyone seemed to appreciate the a fresh pan of brownies pulled from the oven.

Because of my long history of baking and adoring brownies, I have the recipe, um, memorized. Yes. So when I remembered very last minute that I needed to make a batch, I mixed some up in no time (at midnight, no less.). You can, too. Just follow along!

"Jentzen Brownies" (only called that because we made them so very often growing up!)

4 oz unsweetened baking chocolate squares
2/3 C plus 2 TBS butter
2 C sugar
4 eggs
1 t vanilla
1 t baking powder
1 t salt
1 1/4 C flour

In a microwave safe mixing bowl, melt butter and chocolate squares (you may have to mix then wave, mix then wave). Add sugar and then beat in eggs. Add vanilla. Mix in baking powder, salt and flour. Pour batter into 9x13 inch pan and bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Allow to cool completely.

Icing:
1/4 C butter
2 C powdered sugar
2T Milk
1 t vanilla extract (or try peppermint for Christmas!)

Ice brownies. Allow to harden slightly (put it in the fridge to speed this up)

Glaze:
2 TB Butter
1.5 squares baking chocolate

Pour glaze over iced brownies and use a spatula to carefully cover completely. Place in fridge to cool/harden topping completely.

Cut up and serve!

And His Name Shall Be Called...

2011-12-13T12:57:00.000-05:00

"...Wonderful Counselor, Almighty God, the Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."

We don't really "do" Santa Claus, but it can be hard to avoid. While admiring the tree the other night, I teasingly asked Jonah (2) where the presents were.

"Don't worry, Mom," he said. "Santa will bring them in a few days."

It seems that watching "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" and singing "Santa Claus is Coming To Town" has rubbed off on him a bit. I resolved a-new to be sure to keep Jesus at the center of our celebrating.

So we read a bit out of Isaiah, discussed the many names of Jesus, and made this little craft. Not a big deal by any stretch, but when I look at my tree and all of those names hanging there, I'm just filled with hope and awe at it all - tiny babe fulfilling very big prophecies on that night so long ago.

If you'd like to craft along, this is what we did!

"Jesus Nametags"

You'll Need:
scissors,
felt (we used wool, but you don't need to),
a hole punch,
glue stick,
ribbon/yarn/string,
this template printed out.

1.) Print out your template and cut out the tags. We used regular printer paper, but cardstock would probably hold up better.

2.) Glue tags on felt, cut out with 1/4 inch margin.

3.) Punch one hole through both layers.

4.) Thread yarn through hole and tie, forming a loop.

Alternatives: We hung our name tags on our Christmas tree, but you could put them anywhere - in a garland on your mantel, hung on a branch for a centerpiece, or dangling from a chandelier. I'd love to do these with gold lettering, but for this quick craft for my little ones, black ink worked just fine.

This craft is perfect for little ones 3 and up, with help from Mom.

Cookie Cost-Benefit

2011-12-08T15:19:00.000-05:00

Every year about this time they start asking. Every day, until I say yes. It takes me awhile, mostly because I know how much work it is, how much time it takes and yes, the mess, that part too. Still, every year I do say yes.

Its not because it has to be done. Certainly children don't NEED to make 100 sugar cookies, all rolled out on our table, a dusting of flour from head to toe. They wouldn't be considered deprived it I didn't let them march around the neighborhood delivering cookies to family and friends with a telltale circle of frosting around their mouths. I could justify letting this one tradition slip quietly by and keep my floors clean, my walls untouched by sticky, sprinkle-dyed hands.

They'd be fine without it, that's for sure. But would I? Its when I'm vacuuming (for the second time) the sprinkles off the floor that I realize that maybe its not all cost for me and benefit for them...its benefit for me, too.

To hear their voices laughing and talking excitedly. To watch them help each other out, cheer each other on, compliment each other on the perfect frosting-to-cookie ratio. Really, all of that is pure pleasure, not just for them, but for me too.

These years are going by like a blur and when I stop to catch my breath I can feeling it creeping up on me, that realization that my life's a vapor and I'm watching it drift away. That maybe for today one thing I can do is revel in what I've been given for this blisteringly speedy moment. The impossible gift of 5 beautiful, amazing human beings to share my life with. A clean floor can't compete with that, not in a million years.

In this equation, the benefits win out. I'm lapping up the here and now before life chugs onward and I'm left with only memories. The smudge of frosting on her cheek. His hands stuck with sprinkles. And all those smiles beaming up at me.

Want to make cookies with us? Here's our recipe.

Handmade Holiday

2011-12-05T20:40:00.000-05:00

The Christmas ballet has passed. Do you know what that means? Why, its time to hunker down, dig in and wholeheartedly succumb to Christmassing!

In this home, that means quite a little bit of making. I had hoped to get my nephew's sweater done this weekend (more on that later), but keeping a baby quiet backstage required more than just a little of my attention. Planning on finishing that up this week and also making a list of make-ables that I'd like to get to this weekend. A little less of the knitting variety, a little more of the quick, easy and giftable type. Feel free to join in!

These wreath ornaments from Martha Stewart look like a great activity for little people. Hoping to find some buttons tomorrow during a visit to the fabric shop!

This granola from Rhythm of the Home looks delicious and is a perfect consumable gift for friends in your life!

What's not to love about homemade nutella? I might just have to keep this gift for myself...

There are a lot of good sales on flannel right now, so how about making a nice thick stack of cloth wipes?

Homemade baby/toddler legwarmers are a cinch with this Flickr tutorial. Super quick and easy to get a nice little stash going!

What are YOU working on these days? Happy Making!

::Right Now::

2011-12-02T14:56:00.000-05:00

::Right Now I am::

~ realizing Dinah is beginning to lose interest in going to be each night with her hair tied up for curls. The novelty has worn off and we're not even yet done with ballet performances. The makeup isn't so bad, or so she tells me.

~planning Christmas gift giving, still. This year has been a bit slower to get rolling.

~ beginning to wonder how sustainable having one car is for a family of our size.

~ looking forward to having ballet done with for the season

~dejunking around the house before we pull out all the Christmas glory

~ yearning for a bit of peace this season, leaving the rush and bustle to others and just enjoying Advent.

~ knitting a sweater for my nephew and realizing Peter's Christmas stocking may not get done in time for Christmas.

~listening to "A Very She and Him Christmas" and digging up my old recording of Handel's Messiah.

~Wishing that we get some snow for Christmas - this dusting isn't cutting it.

~Planning on finishing that quilt next week.

And you?