Scraps of Sunshine

There was a time when I thought my mind was replete with original knowledge, sparkling with my own personal bits of wit and wisdom. Now that may be so in small amounts but as time goes on I am coming to know how very little I do know and how very much I need to learn....

I spied a few scattered gray hairs on my dark head and I realized how very little that really means. If I say I am old that is laughable, merely a testimony to how very young I am. Those who are old do not profess their agedness, they simply are. It is the young who so desire the wisdom and experience that comes with age.

I have long struggled with being genuinely honest. Fearing that I would step on toes or hurt someone's feelings I have lied or balked or worse yet, retreated from any sort of response. As though a new window is being opened and fresh air flooding a once dank space I am coming to see that I need no longer fear another's bruised emotions. What a new energy this has given to forming friendships here. If I truly care about someone I will tell them the truth, not what they want to hear or what makes them feel good. And I must in turn allow them to do the same for me... That is a mark of an authentic relationship.

I used to be deeply concerned with making sure my children did everything I said immediately without any question. If they hesitated to ask why or to try to explain then I was quick to mete out consequences. And somehow that translated into how I related with God. I didn't feel safe asking Him why or taking a moment to try to share my heart with Him. I was anxious, full of angst and tossed to and fro, unsure of who I was or where I was going. All I knew was obey without question. But as my heart opened wider to my children I came to see the truth of the verse that "we are but sheep"... Just as my God has compassion on my weaknesses, my failings, has time for my questions, I can give that same regard to my little ones. In the end what is important is that they understand fully what choice they are making, the choice to follow and obey. Blind obedience will not teach them how to choose the right road in life. Anyone can demand respect but only love will retain that respect. I would much rather my children have faith in me than fear me...

As the time draws closer for the celebration of celebrations, to honor the gift of the Holy, I bend to ask that He draw me closer to His heart, teach me more of His ways. And I can only pray that as I simply seek to learn from Him I will be able to falteringly at times, faithfully at others, lead my own little ones to Him...

Santa Claus and the Road Through Fairyland

While browsing online today I stumbled on an excellent article by Tony Woodlief of the Washington Post. It succinctly and sweetly sums up our views concerning our children's belief in Santa Claus and the bridge to faith in Christ. I'm posting excerpts of G.K. Chesterton's 'Orthodoxy'(which is an amazing read) followed by a portion of Woodlief's article.

"My first and last philosophy, that which I believe in with unbroken certainty, I learnt in the nursery. I generally learnt it from a nurse; that is, from the solemn and star-appointed priestess at once of democracy and tradition. The things I believed most then, the things I believe most now, are the things called fairy tales.

Fairyland is nothing but the sunny country of common sense. I knew the magic beanstalk before I had tasted beans; I was sure of the Man in the Moon before I
was certain of the moon.

But I deal here with what ethic and philosophy come from being fed on fairy tales. If I were describing them in detail I could note many noble and healthy principles that arise from them.

There is the chivalrous lesson of "Jack the Giant Killer"; that giants should be killed because they are gigantic. It is a manly mutiny against pride as such. For the rebel is older than all the kingdoms,and the Jacobin has more tradition than the Jacobite.

There is the lesson of "Cinderella," which is the same as that of the Magnificat--EXALTAVIT HUMILES. There is the great lesson of "Beauty and the Beast";that a thing must be loved BEFORE it is loveable.

There is the terrible allegory of the "Sleeping Beauty," which tells how the human creature was blessed with all birthday gifts, yet cursed with death;and how death also may perhaps be softened to a sleep.

But I am not concerned with any of the separate statutes of elfland, but with the whole spirit of its law, which I learnt before I could speak,and shall retain when I cannot write. I am concerned with a certain way of looking at life, which was created in me by the fairy tales,but has since been meekly ratified by the mere facts.

This elementary wonder, however, is not a mere fancy derived from the fairy tales; on the contrary, all the fire of the fairytales is derived from this. Just as we all like love tales because there is an instinct of sex, we all like astonishing tales becausethey touch the nerve of the ancient instinct of astonishment.

This is proved by the fact that when we are very young childrenwe do not need fairy tales: we only need tales. Mere life is interesting enough.

A child of seven is excited by being told that Tommy opened a door and saw a dragon. But a child of three is excited by being told that Tommy opened a door. Boys like romantic tales;but babies like realistic tales--because they find them romantic.In fact, a baby is about the only person, I should think, to whom a modern realistic novel could be read without boring him.

This proves that even nursery tales only echo an almost pre-natal leap of interest and amazement. These tales say that apples were golden only to refresh the forgotten moment when we found that they were green. They make rivers run with wine only to make us remember, for one wild moment, that they run with water. I have said that this is wholly reasonable and even agnostic.

I am all for the higher agnosticism; its better name is Ignorance. We have all read in scientific books, and, indeed, in all romances,the story of the man who has forgotten his name. This man walks about the streets and can see and appreciate everything; only he cannot remember who he is. Well, every man is that man in the story. Every man has forgotten who he is. One may understand the cosmos,but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star.

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God; but thou shalt not know thyself. We are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten our names. We have all forgotten what we really are. All that we call common sense and rationality and practicality and positivism only means that for certain dead levels of our life we forget that we have forgotten. All that we call spirit and art and ecstasy only means that for one awful instant we remember that we forget.

This is the next milestone to be definitely marked on our road through fairyland. And the strongest emotion was that life was as precious as it was puzzling. It was an ecstasy because it was an adventure; it was an adventure because it was an opportunity. The goodness of the fairy tale was not affected by the fact that there might be more dragons than princesses; it was good to be in a fairy tale.The test of all happiness is gratitude; and I felt grateful, though I hardly knew to whom. Children are grateful when Santa Claus puts in their stockings gifts of toys or sweets. Could I not be grateful to Santa Claus when he put in my stockings the gift of two miraculous legs? We thank people for birthday presents of cigars and slippers. Can I thank no one for the birthday present of birth? " (G.K.)

" I suspect that fairy tales and Santa Claus do prepare us to embrace the ultimate Fairy Tale, the one Lewis believed was ingrained in our being. Christian apologists like Lewis and Chesterton embraced them, precisely because to embrace Christian dogma is to embrace the extrarational. As a parent, I believe (with the older apologists) that it's essential to preserve a small, inviolate space in the heart of a child, a space where he is free to believe impossibilities.

The fantasy writer George MacDonald -- author of "The Light Princess" and "The Golden Key" -- whom Lewis esteemed as one of his greatest inspirations, suggested that it is only by gazing through magic-tinted eyes that one can see God: "With his divine alchemy," MacDonald wrote, "he turns not only water into wine, but common things into radiant mysteries." The obfuscating spirit of the "commonplace," meanwhile, is "ever covering the deep and clouding the high.

Oxford University Press recently announced that it will be dropping words like "dwarf," "elf" and "devil" from its children's dictionary to make room for words like "blog," "Euro," and "biodegradable" -- a blow not just to language but to the imagination. I'm sticking with Santa, however, knowing that my children will gradually exchange the fairy tales of youth for a faith -- I hope -- in mysteries that even diehard Christians seem increasingly embarrassed to admit as such. In our house, at least, there's no shame in believing the impossible.

Puritans and atheists alike may disapprove, but our home is filled with fairy tales and fiction books, in hopes that the magic sprinkled across their pages will linger in the hearts of our children. In this we side with Chesterton, who wrote: "I left the fairy tales lying on the floor of the nursery, and I have not found any books so sensible since." (T.W.)

Gazing

A new year is coming. Bright, fresh, holding limitless possibilities and potential for new growth.
It doesn't quite feel like Christmas here yet. Maybe it's because the weather has been 60-70 degrees the past two weeks.

Natalie and Adam have thrown themselves joyously into celebrating this most wondrous of holidays. Every night when Tim pulls into the driveway from work they rush him to plug in the outside lights and stand gazing in wonder at the brightly lit icicles and glowing snowman and rainbow clusters on eaves and corners.

They love the advent wreath and the songs and verses and lighting the candles each evening after dinner. Tim cleverly constructed a wreath out of almost nothing and I'm sure it will be cherished for every advent hereafter. I get choked up hearing their little warbling voices singing "O Come Let us Adore Him" or as Natalie believes it to be, O Come Let Us Side Door Him.

Every morning they clamber up on the couch to touch each and every ornament on the tree and attempt to wrangle off some M&M character lights to play with.

Natalie is becoming more and more of a little mother everyday. She follows Adam everywhere, picks up after him, grabs his hand if she thinks he is straying too far in the wrong direction. "Now you listen to me Moe (she'll say), you need to obey." Large portions of my day are spent telling Natalie to stop ordering him around. But the next moment she will be tenderly wiping his face or asking him curiously, "Do you like cars Adam?" "Uh Huh", he'll answer. "Mom, Adam says he does like cars!", she'll yell to me and they will both laugh and she will put her arm around him as they munch their crackers.

She is so full of compassion. She apologizes to Buster for hurting his feelings. She asks me if I've had enough kisses to fill up my heart and tells me when she hasn't had enough to fill up her heart yet. Her favorite part of bedtime is singing "You Are My Sunshine."


Adam explores his world through smell and taste. He sniffs new foods and people and books alike. And there is still a part of him that finds it exciting to scoop up some particularly gooey black mud from the back yard and cram it in his mouth. I know, it's utterly disgusting. I spend another large part of my day scooping dirt out of his mouth or chasing him around the yard to keep him from putting it in his mouth. He is still figuring out who he is. He is not yet ready to accept himself as baby or boy or even as a person it appears.The past couple days he has called himself a train and today when I asked him who he is he said, "Snowman". I try not to laugh, he says it so seriously.

Like the other night I was feeding and cuddling him before bed and he started singing, "Jesuh lub lil chi wen", (Jesus Loves the Little Children) and he kept singing that line over and over looking sweetly and intently into my face. I couldn't help it, it was so adorable I broke into a smile and a little giggle and he stopped for a moment and got kind of a hurt look on his face. So I straightened up and thankfully he continued. Before laying him down we sing "You Are My Sunshine" together. He so enjoys joining in on the chorus. The other day in church I heard a loud echo after a praise song had ended and looked down to see Adam singing along with all his heart.


My newest grand idea for our holiday tradition is to build a gingerbread house each year. As usual the ever patient, hard working Tim ended up putting together all the final touches, with the help of our meticulous Natalie and now we have a beautiful house waiting till Christmas arrives. Adam and I helped with candy eating and application and then off we went to the kitchen to make biscuits..his newest obsession being to mix and stir whatever I am baking.

Buster has found his place in our family. Not quite a third child, but certainly a beloved playmate. I have moments of craziness managing the three of them but it all melts away when I see Adam leaning against him whispering, "Doggie Doggie" or Natalie carefully draping plastic bead necklaces around him and squeezing his neck, "I love you" she'll say into his ear.

So as Christmas approaches we are happy, healthy and learning each day how much we need each other and God's hand for each new step.

Cannot wait for Christmas morning. The wide eyed wonder. The piles of wrapping paper all over the floor. The excited giggles and squeals. The awe over the nativity and the blessed old story. Makes me thankful for sacrifices and planning and surprises my parents orchestrated over many Christmases.

Here's to wide eyed wonder. May we never lose that little sparkle in our eyes and spring in our steps. No matter what this life hands us...

Are You There God?

Remember that Judy Blume book, "Are You There God, It's Me Margaret?" That title has been running through my head the past couple days. Maybe because I saw a disturbing SNL skit about it, but more likely because I've been having some trouble listening lately.

Our resident three year old is bright and inquisitive, sometimes driving Mommy to the point of exasperation. I enjoy answering a question or two. Heck I kind of enjoy figuring out a simple straightforward explanation to something rather difficult. I don't mind answering a different question on the same subject. But when it comes to answering the same question OVER and OVER again in a 20 minute period that's where I start to lose tiny valuable pieces of my sanity. It is chipped away slowly with painstaking concentration until lunchtime finds me barely able to babble a question of what drink everyone would like.

I've wondered if I have a particularly small reserve of patience. I have tried many different ways to answer the same question. And yet, the question remains. So the more I've been contemplating and praying and taking deep cleansing breaths something has come to me. Maybe the questions aren't being asked because the answer really matters. Maybe Natalie is asking the questions to make sure I'm here...still present...still listening.

And maybe that's what I need from God more than anything else. I know He cannot answer all my questions to my satisfaction. I know sometimes He will choose not to change something that I've had my heart set on. But I still ask the questions because at the end of the day I just want to know He's there.

We'll Have to Muddle Through Somehow

More and more lately it seems I have been operating without my head on straight. Today it feels as if I haven't had it on at all. I've noticed there is a particular pattern to days with two toddlers and a puppy. There is first a slam bang, breathless, up and down, horrible and terrific all at once day. Really high highs and really low lows. Everything that isn't tied down ends up all over the floor, each other's faces, the dog or most often, all over mommy. This sort of a day happens to be the one which finds me working without that most valuable of all body parts, I'm often nothing more than a headless bundle of emotions. It is at these moments that I must laugh (as Abe Lincoln says) or I will do nothing but weep.

The day that follows this sort of a day is bright and sunny and cheerful. Tempers are even, emotions seem to be still waters and I manage to have a shower, unload and load the dishwasher and complete the laundry in record time. Our resident canine is a saint and Little Jack Horner and Mary Mary Quite Contrary are all that nursery rhyme characters parading as Behnke children should be. The hours pass quickly because we are enjoying our time together. The smooth, unruffled tone of this day prepares me for the one to follow: tempest tossed once more.

After a particularly stressful time at the playground in which both children fell down numerous times, ran into everything possible, scraped and scratched little hands and faces, Natalie even got a case of leash burn from an interesting and painful episode involving an eager dog and an attempt to swing on her belly instead of seated, it was clear it was time to head for the hills, or home as it were.

Back home we came in the midst tears and whines and happily settled into making peppermint bark and chocolate dipped pretzels for Christmas care packages. Nothing a few licks of a chocolate covered spoon can't soothe. That lasted for all of 20 minutes and we were back to square one. I have yet to figure out how to hold and properly soothe two emotion laden toddlers while a 45 pound bassett hound is jumping on my shoulders as well. Maybe I'll never figure that one out.

So..we are down for naps now. The kitchen is littered with the remnants of our candy making, the laundry basket is beyond overflowing and our two bathrooms are desperately in need of a good scrub. So I will take a deep breath, chug a mug of coffee and get going...How much I am looking forward to the promise of a tranquil day tomorrow!

The Show Must Go On

Meet Buster. The newest member of our family. We rescued him from a shelter where he ended up after several hurricanes in Northern North Carolina.

He definitely brings added responsibility but more importantly added joy and exuberance to our boisterous family. I'm perfectly willing to have an extra little body to bathe, take to the potty and play with if he keeps up his end of the deal, to be a loving, faithful playmate and companion to our little ones. He sits patiently watching as they take their bath at night, lays at the foot of their beds for goodnight stories and songs, follows them up on the slides at the playground and lets them lay on him, give him endless bear hugs and tail tugs and even submits to being dressed in baby doll bonnets and bows.

He comes at a time of upheaval and change as we are nearing Tim's deployment and relinquishing hopes of his completion of Sapper school this past month. In a fluke occurrence Tim came down with a condition involving too much protein in his bloodstream which almost caused him to pass out on several occasions and ultimately ended his time at the school. It was a hard hit for he and I both because we had planned and pushed and negotiated family time and training time and excitedly started him off only for it to end before he graduated and received his tab.

A year ago I would have thought, so what? Big deal. But now having experienced a taste of military life and it's trials and triumphs I am fully invested in the importance of this life of ministry and sacrifice for others beyond just our own family.

So here we stand, on the brink of one of the biggest changes in our little family's history, hopeful and sad at the same time. Knowing there will be struggle and heartache, important lessons learned and a greater sense of our deep need for Christ as a daily part of our life.

My goal used to be to avoid hurt and sacrifice at all costs, that it could not be the best thing for me, for my family. But now I see how God uses difficulties and the unknown to fashion me more like His Son, to give me a greater sense of confidence in who He has created me to be, to help me to lighten up, relax and laugh a good deal more. Some things are so much bigger than my control. So why try to avoid and counteract and run from things that are tough. This year apart can break us or make us more of a family. It's all in the perspective and in who has the last word.

"He knows the way that I take and when He has tested me I will come forth as gold."- Job 23:10

Misgivings and Thanksgiving

Lately we have experienced a myriad of disappointments, small and large. Things we have planned and worked so hard for have crumbled in our hands. Surprises we carefully engineered have seemed to self destruct and we are left looking at the pieces. So much transition, so much we haven't expected.At night lying in bed I have wrestled with the losses and worried over the changes. Hard to adjust to something other than what was planned. Strains of an old song from White Christmas entered my mind, "When you're worried and you can't sleep, just count your blessings instead of sleep and you'll fall asleep counting your blessings."

We decided to echo that sentiment in our Thanksgiving banner for this year. Here is our thankful list in random order:

1. Strength of family-

No matter what we've faced this year, upcoming deployments, months of separation, dealing with growth and change and new life we have gained a greater sense of who we are as a family.

2. Loved Ones-

The past few years have been turbulent. In our struggle to grow and gain independence and figure things out we have often hurt those we love the most. This year we have realized anew how much we have to be grateful for, parents that have been examples of commitment and have given us so much.

3. A bright hope-

More than anything else we have learned that our only constant is our Creator. The One who fashioned us out of this earth loves us more than anyone else ever could. His dreams for us are bigger than those in our hearts and minds.

4. A challenge before us-

This military life is often grueling and rigorous, not only for Tim in training but also for us on the homefront. We have learned to embrace the more difficult path, that often the joy found there is so much sweeter, that much richer for the struggle. How much more we appreciate simple days together because we know what it's like to be apart.

5. A peace to carry us through-

When the busy day is done and we lay our heads large and small on our pillows to rest we can relax in the peace that is greater than the sum of our mistakes and deeper than our desire to achieve more. Peace He has left with us and it will carry us through all the hills and valleys that lie ahead of us.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Recap

Ah, what a long time it has been since I've posted. I have been trying every which way I could imagine to get my camera to upload pictures to no avail! Today I determined to sit here as long as possible and make it work! The joy of persistence.

We have had a whirlwind two weeks. Halloween and all that comes with it. A weekend trip to ride on the Polar Express. And now settling into a busy holiday season. Tim heading to Sapper school (which I'll explain in a later post).

Most important news of all, on All Saints Day during our bedtime prayers and stories Natalie asked Jesus to come live in her heart! What new meaning it has taken on for me. So much more than saying the words or checking the box, she is exuberant that now her favorite friend goes everywhere with her. She often peeks into her shirt and talks as though into her heart: "Come out of there you silly old Jesus, I want to see you!"

And Adam has begun a (lifelong I'm sure) romance with cars. Except he cannot pronounce c's so they are "tars". He squeals excitedly whenever we see one, sleeps with them clutched in a fist and loves to clamber around in Daddy's car. He sniffs them ( a particular habit of his we don't quite understand), kisses them and sometimes gives them a surreptitious lick. This boy knows how to enjoy life!

And me? I am enjoying every minute of our little circus here. Never a dull moment is an understatement. Most importantly I am learning to stay open and pile the patience on Natalie and Adam as well as myself. Life can be challenging whether you're only as tall as the sofa or approaching 30. He gives more grace, so why can't I?

Boy or Bear?

It appears our little Adam is going through a bit of an identity crisis. His idol right now is Winnie the Pooh. Before bedtime he and I always have a little cuddle time and a little Q&A about how his day went. I was asking the usual, "Did you see a plane?", "What did you eat?" and I threw in "What's your name?". His answer, "Pooh, name Pooh". I asked again to get it straight and then had Tim come in and ask. Again, "Pooh". We tried to explain his name is Adam. He shook his head emphatically, pointed to his chest and said, "Pooh, name Pooh!". We'll see how long this one lasts. I can already see me years down the road recounting this story to his first girlfriend! (j/k)

Two Much

I can hardly write fast enough to keep up with all the cute things Natalie and Adam say and do.. So here are a few...

Natalie:

"Mommy someday I will marry Moe (Adam) and we will dance together and play toys together. And I have a cake for us."

"If you ever see wolves chasing you you run away Moe!" (said randomly while playing one day- what goes on in that little head?)

Said often during dinner: "Mom did you know you can make your food dance?" (proceeds to make her forkful of chicken or biscuit dance)

While watching Adam painstakingly try on one of her plastic dress up heels, "I think that looks very handsome for boys."

One day I walked in on her dancing with her pillow. She looked at me and said solemnly,"Do you know some people like to dance with pillows Mom?"

"If you ever see a dog you just give him a jellybean."

"My name is 'Kiss' and Moe is named 'Hug."

"I'm real right Mom? I'm not made out of wood?"

Adam:

Is frequently found clomping around the house in one of my slippers or heels or one of Daddy's sneakers.

His favorite song is the B-I-B-L-E and he puts the most emphasis on the E!.

Particularly enjoys dipping all of his food in whatever's available, says "Bip!" as he does it.

Sings the entire Itsy Bitsy Spider complete with hand motions.

Attempts to chase planes in the backyard yelling "Pwane, Fwy! Pwane, Fwy!" (plane, fly), we believe he thinks he can fly too if only he runs fast enough.

When he feels it has been too long since he has connected with me he comes trudging down the hall to find me calling "Ma, ma, ma!" and puckering up for a kiss.

It's the Great Pumpkin...

As you can see we spent this past weekend at a pumpkin patch. Some notable moments including Natalie falling flat into a large, rotted pumpkin, then she was involved in a minor accident involving the cart and a few more pumpkins, the cart careened and she went flying out.

Adam fell in love with several varieties of squash which kept him occupied for all of 15 minutes then he began to sob, trudging through the patch after me. Tim was bravely attempting to maneuver cart and corral kids while I searched in vain for the "perfect pumpkin".

After 45 minutes in the harsh sun and tripping through several miles of pumpkin wasteland we gathered up some small Boo (white) pumpkins and headed for the barn to snatch up some of their perfect picks. All in all we laughed, we cried, we fell down, we drained ourselves of all energy and most importantly, we had a blast!

Happy Pumpkin Hunting one and all!

A Beautiful Mess

I have a longstanding date. Every afternoon once the little man is tucked in bed and before our budding artist is down for some quiet time, she and I splash some color on the canvas and enjoy silly conversations and quite a few giggles. We began to notice awhile back that Natalie was pretending everything was a paintbrush, everything needed to be painted.

After purchasing some paints and small brushes it was clear she is very artistic. Her artwork is just like her personality; bold, colorful, uninhibited. Whereas I neatly pour circles of color in rows on the tray and carefully outline a bird or a flower on the paper, Natalie swirls the colors together with abandon, paying no attention to order and splashes globs and blobs of color all over my neat rows of blooms.
At first I felt a little frustrated, longing to show her how to be patient and work slowly till she created the picture in her mind, work carefully with one color at a time, don't paint over a well drawn picture. It was hard to keep my mouth shut when she would lean laughing on my knee, paintbrush slopping all over my pants to whisper in my ear or show me an idea. I was hard pressed not to watch the clock, willing the timer to sound for quiet in our home, when I could clean up the mess and order would return.

And then it hit me. It is a mess to me but to her it is beautiful. "Isn't that wonderful Mom?", she asked me, gesturing towards an unrecognizable smear of browns and blues and lilacs. "See what I did?" And to her it was wonderful. Beautiful. A beautiful mess. While I was concerned with cleaning and neatness she was enjoying the experience. Not worrying what came next or how it would all turn out. Enjoying every minute.

As I thought more about it the painting looked a lot like my life. Swirling through the days, a punch of color here, add some exciting events, a little mundane housework and billpaying, glop on a little marital tension and late nights and you've got yourself a mess.

That is if you leave out the moments of breathless wonder as our boy strings a sentence together or learns to run, or the belly laughs when Natalie does crazy somersaults down the hallway, or still getting butterflies when my husband takes my hand or gives me tiny kisses all over my face. Those things are what makes the mess beautiful. Most beautiful of all because a Master painter is at work and to my great relief he isn't finished yet.

All the World's A Stage..

It is with some anticipation and much misgiving that I prepare to watch the Vice Presidential Debate this evening.

Home

"There's nothing half so pleasant as coming home again." -Margaret E. Sangster

I remember the old verse, "Thirty days hath September...", but this September has felt like a lot more than 30 days! We have been all over the place, had quite a few people over our place and now we are home!

The past two weekends we have been in Williamsburg, VA and Myrtle Beach, SC while Tim has conducted a Single Soldier Retreat and a Marriage Retreat. We have logged more miles on our old gray van and added more crumbs to the carseats. We have lost many more hours of sleep, despite the ever present Superbed (we push both hotel room beds together)and eaten more pizza than we could handle. But most importantly we have made some memories we won't soon forget.

It's always exciting to set out on yet another adventure. Exciting that is for the 5 minutes between all the packing and planning and preparing and attempting to settle everyone comfortably, with nary a whine, into the car and the moment someone begins lunging out of their carseat, straining against the straps and reaching wildly for handholds. Then the excitement begins to ebb a teensy bit. Once stomachs are full and tired eyes shut for the briefest of snoozes, a warm Starbucks resting in our hands and the open road before us, the light of anticipation flickers once more. We talk and laugh and dream, remembering early days and less complicated times and we've got quite a blaze going. All too soon the stillness is broken. But with relief we see how much good the nap has done and we play a round of "I Spy" or sing the ABC song merrily together. And so goes the rest of our journey.

Cheerful hours marked by swirling emotions and frequent scampering anywhere but in the right direction. Many attempts to create a magical space out of a simple hotel room with two beds and a window. We make blanket forts, pretend the beds are boats in crocodile infested waters, play marching and follow the leader, explore the hotel inside and out, make friends with most of its inhabitants and make an effort to get a nap in the midst of it all. More than anything else these little trips make us appreciate home. A place where there is room to run, space to grow, where people let you be you. So bring on the trips, especially the glad homecomings to follow.

Our Girl

Where has time gone? On golden wings it has flown past before we could catch our breath. Our little Natalie; the baby of our early years is 3 years old. So tall and slim. She has pretty much lost all of the chubbiness, her babyness.

I have been spectator to these changes for many months, how she can barely stretch her legs in her toddler bed, how her pants have begun ankle grazing. I have noticed often with wonder that the look of her is somehow new, different. New but familiar. For in the midst of this blossoming little girl I still see glimpses of that same pink cheeked baby she once was.

In the heat of a struggle to get her own way I watch her eyes soften, her lips change from pout to that same impish grin and I flash to when she was only a bundle in my arms. Those first nights when Tim would swaddle her tenderly and we would sing one more lullaby before settling in her basket to sleep. Calm and quiet, she gazed up at us, serene, composed.

I catch glimpses of that same serenity here and there, coupled now with a tenacity, the urge to push past the limits of her small frame and be something more. At times she will stand up on tippy toes, "See mommy I'm bigger now, I growed up." Others she will whimper for me to hold her like I once did. No longer does she fit so neatly in my arms, it's much harder for her to curl up in my lap. Cuddles are not quite as frequent, for she is busy now. Busy in play and growing up.

At night sometimes I lie in bed, unable to sleep, wondering if I'm doing right by her. I remember the clashes, the new sense of identity she wrestles to understand,my exhaustion and wishing for the agreeableness she once had, then the unexpected hugs, little soft kisses all over my face. "See mommy, I'm walking just like you." "Listen mommy, I will tell you some secrets." "I Love You..You are my special friend!". "We are both the same, mommy; I'm just like you!"

The familiar lump fills my throat and I sink further back on my pillows. In my mind I see her through the years, a crawling infant, then walking, running up and down the hall and now skipping. I race ahead to when she is no longer a girl. What will she be like? Mostly sugar and smiles it's been with her. Lately more and more of a wrestle for power, but still that softness, creeping in and bringing welcome relief, like sunset after a long, hot day. "Okay mommy, I will be a good listener."

Do I wish her back to babyhood? Maybe for a few brief moments each day. It was beautiful, daresay magical those first moments as a mommy to this wonderful girl. But it has only gotten better. Richer. We have grown together she and I. Not yet ready to watch her fly away. Not for awhile longer yet. Right now I will revel in her questions, "Mommy, why is the sky blue?", "Mommy why does Jesus love me?", her cheerful team spirit, "Follow me Moe (her nickname for Adam)I will show you the way", her endless singing of the alphabet song at the top of her lungs in public places, her crazy mop of curls that refuses to be tamed, somehow fitting for a girl like our Natalie.

For a few more years we will make the nightly journey to check on her one last time before turning in, marveling at what a big girl she is now, reminiscing over happenings of the day. We will await her chipper early morning "Hello, mommy!", clambering over me to cuddle in between us, dragging stuffed dinosaur, blanket, pillows and toys to join us. We will treasure a few more rounds of Ring around the Rosy, snatch up a few more bathtime sing a longs and visions of her in footed jammies reading to her stuffed animals. A full, beautiful world awaits you, but for now we are content to have you filling our little home with your magic. Happy 3rd year our little Natalie!

A PSALM OF LIFE

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
A PSALM OF LIFE

WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN
SAID TO THE PSALMIST

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

Max and Ruby

I have always loved celebrations. Birthdays especially. In the past I have made a concerted effort to decorate and plan for cakes and decorations and unique gifts. This year our little Natalie turns 3 and I'm pulling out all the stops. One of Natalie and Adam's favorite shows is one about two bunnies named Max and Ruby. Ruby is the quintessential older sister following goofy bumbling baby brother Max through messy and silly escapades. Exactly like the interactions between our two little munchkins. Maybe that's why they love the show so much. Adam dances in circles saying "Mac" (his pronunciation of Max) in a singsong voice and Natalie clasps her hands and smiles as though enraptured when she hears the familiar strains of the 40's-esque theme song.
How blessed I am to have a creative, fun loving, hardworking partner in Tim. I make all the big plans and find myself unable to put foundations under these "castles in the air" without his help. And so we are planning like school kids, whispering and hiding presents and printing off decoration ideas. I am quite convinced this whole shebang is more fun for the two of us than for Natalie herself!

So I have some grand plans. We'll see how it all turns out and if our little Max and Ruby have as much fun partying as we've had planning...

Four More Minutes

Oh to be a child again with absolutely no concept of time.
To our little Natalie 4 minutes sounds like an adequate amount of time for when naptime will be over, when she can have a snack, when we can watch Popeye.
Four more minutes.

Me:"Natalie, how much longer till your birthday?"

Our Little Curly Haired Wonder: "Four more minutes."

Daddy: "Natalie, when are we going to the playground?"

Natalie: "Four more minutes."

I have been tempted to employ this response myself.

How much longer until I can rest my tired legs and snatch a few winks? Four more minutes sounds good to me.

How much working out before I can get the abs of steel I want? Four more minutes.

About how long will it take me to finish cleaning the house? Why only four more minutes.

I sure wish this method was possible. Anything you are looking forward to or cannot seem to get done? Take heart. Tell yourself it's just four more minutes.

Help Around the House

I've been needing some help lately so I hired a houseboy. What do you think?

Get Started

Sometimes I drag my feet..okay alot of times I drag my feet. I have to weigh out all the possibilities and possibilities of those possibilities before I begin something. Or maybe I should say I did have to...because I am beginning to see that I was not meant to live this way.

Life piled upon life piled upon life is what I sometimes feel I'm living. If I do this then I must account for that and follow through with such and such and whew before you know it I'm exhausted, must rest immediately, and I've not even gotten past the thinking stage. Does it have to be this difficult? An old friend reminded me of a promise he once made, "Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest..." Ah, rest. Yeah, that's what I need.

There's a pile of bills on the counter and a box full of unread e-mails. Rest. I really should give the closets an organizing and clean under the beds. Rest. A friend is unhappy because I cannot meet when she wants to and ease her hurt feelings. Rest. So many burdens. Such inadequate shoulders. I cannot do it anymore.

So I won't. Won't hold myself responsible for misjudgments, misreadings, and unreasonable expectations. Won't continue to give pieces of myself that I cannot give. Won't leave my husband and babies in the lurch while I tend to false responsibilities and concerns that I cannot really take care of anyways.

I will give all that I can give. But no more. I will stop trying to be Superwoman-Cosmic Meeter of All Needs and just be me. I will not worry who says what so long as I know what He says about me. Right now He says Rest. So..G'Night.

It's a Small World

Some days seem like they will never end. You know, the days when certain little people in your home decide to rise at the top o the mornin and you feel as though you barely shut your eyes to snooze? When you just settle in for that deep satisfying sleep cycle and you hear the crib shaking and rattling in one room and in the next sounds of a possible renovation on the toy kitchen. How do you start this day right when it feels you barely finished the last one? Aside from a long hot shower (rare luxury that I barely remember anymore), a snatch at a Scripture to carry you through (oh for the days of quiet study and meditation!) and gulping a lukewarm coffee on the run throughout the day, you muddle through at first and hopefully find your groove as the hours unfold.

Although I cannot always say I start a day the right way my main goal has been to make sure I finish well. I actually have to repeat it to myself sometimes when I feel that I might be losing patience or understanding what it's like to be a small person in a big person's world. The other day I crouched down on the floor to my daughter's height and looked up to right about where I would be standing. A little daunting, definitely intimidating, especially during a trying moment. More than anything it helps to freeze frame the moment and try to look at things through my little ones eyes. If I can just give them the benefit of the doubt, take time to really listen and join them where they're at I find such a change in their demeanor and their behavior. Inspire these little ones to want to be the best self they can be. Instead of demanding change and threatening consequences, remain calm, follow through and don't lose sight of what you're aiming for. Now if I can just remember that once the day begins!

The Unlympics

Tim and I have been avidly watching the games this week. Especially Phelps and Coughlin and Johnson. Pushing aside the lack of sleep and the early mornings ahead we strain to see every detail of men and women racing against each other for recognition, for glory, for self fulfillment. And when we head to bed each night our bodies may be weary but our minds and spirits are exhilarated. For isn't that really why we watch sports, because we are reliving our own bright achievements or imagining what it feels like to be in the midst of someone else's shining moment? We cheer them on because somehow it feels we are cheering ourselves on, that by their struggle and tears and sweat they are helping us to believe we can accomplish great things as well.

As usual in our home, Natalie and Adam get right in the middle of all the goings on. They don't quite understand the meaning of it all but they know it's something big. Today at lunch Natalie asked Tim, "Daddy when are we gonna watch the Unlympics?". The Olympics are what the known, the celebrated, the practiced take part in. But each one of us is a player in our own "Unlympics". We hone our skill as we drive the same route through the same traffic each day. We reiterate our principles as we explain why the answer is No to our child for the 100th time each day. We reinforce our discipline as we kneel to pray over worries instead of seeking a big spend or an expensive meal to assuage our fear.

Every day we do the same thing over and over and over again. Maybe it's not as breathtaking as Michael Phelps dolphin kicks and incredible speed in the pool. Not nearly as exciting as Shaun Johnson's difficult dismount from the uneven bars. But still as vital, still as worthwhile. Our crowd of onlookers is much smaller, our gains not nearly as rapid, our struggle more often within. But each day we crawl out of bed, pick up our dream and keep going. We are competing as well. But our race is lifelong.

Just Another Day on the Job

Here's what Tim did at work yesterday and today. Sure beats a desk job huh?

Dwell

Contemplation has been my main mood lately. Nothing new. Just for longer stretches of time than usual. I've been studying how my words and actions and very ways of being affect my children, for good or for ill. How many times I have failed to concern myself with the end result and instead cared only with gaining the desired response with immediacy. I have come to see the error of this way of thinking and behaving. Especially as a mother.

Rome wasn't built in a day and it is impossible to build the kind of character and inner fortitude in the heart of a child that will last them through life's storms without a focus on the inward response rather than just the outward action. How grateful I am that God doesn't judge me immediately on my wrong or seemingly wrong actions but instead examines my heart and my motives.

As a mom (and a very nouveau one at that!) I have come to see that I cannot accurately and fairly make a judgement on the intents of my children's hearts, the motives behind their actions unless I first come to really know my children. Sure, I can know them in many physical senses; I know their favorite snack or book or song; I know they both need their favorite blankets to fall asleep or that they particularly enjoy slurping out of water bottles with swirly straws. I know when they need a nap or a bath or time playing outside. But in order to have a connection with them that goes beyond these details I must dwell with them.

At first thought dwell means simply that, to live with them. Well I have certainly done that. I've attended to all the ins and outs of their daily care, meals, tooth brushing, dressing and diapering. But there's so much more to dwelling with them.
If you read further dwell also means to delay; to linger,to remain; to continue.

It is amazing the difference in my perspective and theirs when I reprioritize and just be with them. I stretch out on their bedroom floors and let them crawl all over me. Admittedly, not always easy to have hands twisting in your hair, tiny fingers poking into the corners of your eyes, counting your teeth, whispering in your ear and wiggly bodies bouncing on your belly. But once I let go of my inhibitions and let my hair down and be real, nothing compares to that. And that's the picture of Jesus I like to carry around with me. This One who was God left his high place in the heavens and came to our ordinary world and let us get to know him. (John 1:14) He knew that in order to win men's hearts he must first open his. Vulnerability. Authenticity at its best. An example I'd like to follow.

So next time you find yourself worrying about how spotless your floors aren't or how well your clothes don't fit or whether or not your hair makes the A list, toss those thoughts over your shoulders and pull up a patch of floor in your kid's rooms and ultimately in their hearts. Dwell with them.

My Not So Secret Admirer

I have an admirer. I was not too surprised when I noticed him following me. Often. Sometimes into very uncomfortable situations. Like the shower. Everytime we are in the same room together he cannot resist grabbing my face in his hands and kissing me forehead to chin.Pretty much all of his down time is spent following,or looking for me.

But to be completely honest, sometimes I find myself walking just a little faster and attempting to duck into the bathroom for just a moment's peace.Is that wrong? Any attempt along those lines is met by heartbreaking sobs and a rush to grab at me with chubby hands. How could I not want to hold and cuddle and kiss this adorable little 2 and a half footer all day long? But once I do hold him he is squirming to get down but then does not want to be put down. So if he doesn't want up or down, how do I meet that demand? Suspend in midair? How does that work?

I try to tell myself that someday I will long for him to want me this much. But will I? And the bigger question is, How long until he stops wanting me this much? From what I hear through the mommy grapevine it could be some time. And I do not hasten that day. Just somedays I need a little breather. And let's face it, even secret admirers need a day off. Don't they Adam?

The Force is With Us!

I must admit I have never been that taken with the whole Star Wars thing. I guess I never took much time to understand it. Enter my try anything once husband who constantly encourages me to give things a chance. Surprise Surprise, I do not hate Star Wars. And after a day like today I think I love Star Wars, yep kind of in love with all things Star Wars right now.

The story goes something like this. Over the past year, yep that's year, we have been trying any which way we can think of to potty train Natalie. She was a one hit wonder on the day of her 2nd birthday, she was going like a champ. Then it began to taper off and after our big move to NC it was almost non existent for long periods of time. No coaxing, encouragement, M&M's, gummy bears, nothing would give her that extra little push to go.

Then today came. One of those days that seems like it's out of control before you even get out of bed. Somehow you cannot seem to get your bearings, cannot grab ahold of the steering wheel and turn the thing around, it's going and you're going with it. Without much enthusiasm, and a halfhearted smile of encouragement I turned to Natalie. "Babe, if you go poo on the potty you can have an amazing treat!" As usual I said that before I figured out if previously mentioned amazing treat was even available. She looked interested. I scrambled through items in the pantry. Found a Star Wars Pez dispenser. She took one look at it and her eyes began to shine. Clenching her fists in determination she looked up at me , "Ok mom, I will do it!", with that she ran to the potty and proceeded to make a name for herself.

Something about that Star Wars Boba Fett Pez dispenser made her take that chance. And boy was I a proud mother! Great job Natalie! And many more!!!

Unplanning Our Days

Why do we let life get so complicated? Why does each day resonate with a hum of busyness, seldom marked by peaceful, unplanned hours? Isn't it odd that we feel something must be wrong if the morning lies before us blank and fresh, unwritten upon by cares and schedules and plans? There is power and fulfillment in setting goals, large and small and accomplishing them. In fact I always start my days with one or two simple tasks that I can finish and check off immediately. That sense of accomplishment makes the hours of play and fun that much more worthwhile.

We just got back from a trip to Kentucky. Seems as though every other month we are taking off for one training or conference or another. We decided early on that we would take advantage of any and every time to be together as a family. That means being ready to leave at a moment's notice, spending weeks in a hotel without a car and only a few of our belongings, making a home wherever we go.

More than anything else this Army life has taught me how to enjoy the unplanned. Everything is completely up in the air, we are definitely flying by the seat of our pants and after several trips of stress and confusion I have realized if I sit back, go with the flow and tune in to what's going on in the moment I enjoy life so much more.

Natalie and Adam are terrific unplanners. I will have a day all laid out for them and in one fell swoop whether it be every toy box in the house dumped on the floor or fishing in the toilet, the plans are changed. A general plan gives our days peace and meaning. But unplanning has its merits as well. Children are incredibly resilient and they help us to see the fun in small spaces, uncomfortable beds, last minute meal options and even long hours in the van. What memories we have made on these trips, how much we have learned about each others' patience (or lack thereof), food preferences (Is there any other option than McDonald's?), favorite films (Peter Pan is one of the family now), and chosen pasttimes,(collecting rocks from every gas station from NC to KY).

I watch my children as they grow closer together. Our geography changes, the surroundings are often new but the constant they have is each other. So here's to the unplanned; often uncomfortable, sometimes unbearable, but always unforgettable...

Happy Birthday Soldier

" I cast my lot in with a soldier and where he is is home to me."

There's just something about a man in uniform. Not just any man. The soldier who lives at my house. The man who stays up late folding mountains of laundry and putting the towels in the linen closet rolled instead of folded,just the way I like them. The man who puts deadlines and pressing tasks on hold to take our little girl on a "date". The man who stays up late soothing our distraught son to sleep or reads him stories complete with songs and voices. The man who is all too willing to sacrifice his down time for his family.

What a man I have married. How little we know of our husbands when we first slip on that wedding band and head off down the road to bliss. By God's grace as the years have unfolded I have seen more true and beautiful things in him than I ever realized that day I first met him in graduate school.

What storms we have weathered together. He is patient and compassionate but with enough adventure and thrill seeking to remain ever interesting and keep me guessing. How many injured and bruised legs and hips and arms he has pushed through to play with the kids or to complete his tasks at work.

How blessed I am to have found someone that gets me. How rare that the one person who truly gets you, I mean your special brand of jokes, your gut wrenching emotional moments, the same songs, ideas about God, love of family...is the one you are meant to spend the rest of your days with.

I have watched this man at the lowest of low points, both his and mine and he has always stayed the course. We have sat together in a daze wondering how we would make it through the next days, let alone the next hour. We have had nothing, we have had something, we have always had everything because we have stuck it out together.

Tim, I am more than grateful that God put us together for this journey. I couldn't love anyone more. Happy Birthday My Love!!!