The Tea

Sun-dappled leaves

       bright green and cheerful

           waving outside my bedroom window.


I smile.

  And nod my head in greeting.


It is eight o'clock in the morning

              on a Sunday

     and I have crawled back into bed



to relax.


Because my sweet six-year old has made me breakfast in bed.

So that, as the card read, "You will not be busy making breakfast.  You will be relaxing and eating breakfast in bed."


Today, on our heat soaked walk around the neighborhood, he told me the tea bag he picked was to help me relax.


           (On Mother's Day morning, part of breakfast in bed came from a Kindergarten classroom project.  A paper bag held a poem, a nutri-grain bar, and a tea bag.)


They could choose out of an assortment of tea bags.  A lot of the kids wanted the one that helps your mom fall asleep.  "But I choose the one to help you relax."

During our walk, energy drained by the late afternoon sun, I decided to drink my tea when we got home.

"I'll make it for you,"  he said.

And then, in a moment of grandness, he decided to make me dinner too.

"What would you like?" he asked.

"What is there?" I replied.

"Ohhh  . . French toast, chicken salad, a sandwich."

"I'll take French toast."

"Coming right up!"

He heated it up (it was leftover from a couple days ago), buttered it, drizzled syrup, brought me a fork.

"Anything to drink?"

"I've got my tea."

"Oh yeah."


So I sat and sipped my tea.


And relaxed.


Six-year-olds are pretty amazing.

Mother's Day

Let the morning begin . . . !

Breakfast in bed. . . cards . . . and a crown made by Blazer.

Worship and Sunday School and a beautiful baptism.

An afternoon under a tree . . .

Mommy of three . . .

Giggles and laughs . . . 

Lunch at Grammie's and Creme Brulee.

A late evening walk with our neighbor and "new best friend".

A day to make me smile.

Grocery Shopping Victory

As I lifted Dash up to view the green onions and pick out his favorite bunch, I thought . . .

"Wow.  This is fun."

My two little helpers were all over the fruits and vegetables.  They took turns picking them out and putting them in the little plastic bags.

Speaking of . . . I have a terrible time opening those produce bags.  It is impossible for me.  I could stand there all day rubbing that thin plastic, willing it to split open . . .  and still nothing would happen.  The only way to open them is to find something with water on it -- like a bag of carrots or something -- wet my fingers and voila!  It opens.  Produce bags and incredibly dry skin are a hopeless combination.

Anyway, Blazer can open them like a champ.  He was extremely helpful today.

All of them were helpful.

Even during those little wrestle breaks in the middle of the aisle . . . I had fun grocery shopping with my three little ones.

Finley valiantly sat in the shopping cart seat -- gazing at the world -- reaching for a miniature red colander and some enticing bottles of sesame oil.

Blazer and Dash ran around and got interested once we hit the vegetables.

They also helped pile everything on the conveyor belt when it was time to check out.

I feel like I've reached another milestone:

An enjoyable shopping trip with all of my children in tow.

And with three -- that's quite a feat.

For a long time, Ryan would do a majority of the grocery shopping.  Then his schedule got all crazy and there was no time to squeeze it in.  Sometimes he'd go after work (at midnight) and a few times I went when he was napping before the graveyard shift and the kids were in bed (at 10:30 pm).   Needless to say, those aren't optimum times for enjoyable grocery shopping.

Lately I've been shopping on Tuesdays, which are Grammie Days.  So I can wander the aisles all by myself.

But today, I needed to go (for our Mother's Day lunch tomorrow) and I wanted to let Ryan sleep . . . so I piled all three of my children in the car (I mean van.  I still call it a car.)  And off we went.

And it was fun.


Today I found myself at the top of a bump, looking forward.  It's like another stage of life.  A new ability that I had to cultivate and hone.  A victory.

Yes, why not?  A Victory!

I now realize I should have taken a picture.  You know . . . to commemorate the moment.

The snapshot in my mind will have to do.

And many more grocery shopping trips in the future . . . victorious ones and not.

Jog-A-Thon Joggers

Jog-a-thon Day . . .

. . . and Hat Day at school . . . an interesting combination.  Blazer went with the purple variety today.

The Klassy Kindergartners mark their first lap.

There he goes!  In his purple hat!

Jogging Pals.

Dash weaved in and out of the "big kids" for a couple laps.

Finley finishes strong with an entire lap.

We've got some jogging jogger kids.

High five.

Dressed for Soccer Practice

Headbands . . . wristbands . . .

sleeveless hot pink shirt . . .

 thigh-high pink soccer socks . . .

. . . and a sweater vest.

Youth Group Girls

I love my youth group girls.

Truly.


I've been leading a weekly high school youth group for 13 years now.

It's so cool how they change through the years . . .

             how they stretch and grow

       how the vibe -- the feel -- changes.


Right now we meet in my living room.

Which, I think, has to be my favorite youth group venue of all time.

It's cozy and intimate and the room can be comfortably full with only a few people.

It's got a home-y feel.

          Perhaps because it is a home.

                          You think . . . ?


The temperature and humidity are always good -- the lighting is warm and inviting -- there's not huge empty dark spaces to fill.

                       (This is not always so with a church basement.)


The conversation flows nicely . . . naturally . . . . with lots of humor and joy.


Earlier today, as I made a trek into the church basement for some papers, I thought . . .

     Why didn't we start meeting in our living room years ago?

        It's so awesome!


Anyway, the girls are what make it awesome too.

They are so engaged and curious and ask good questions and tell funny stories . . .

Two girls want to be baptized.

I mean, how amazing is that?!

Super Amazing.


It's a Spirit-Filled youth group year.

And I'm lovin' it.

Miracle on Baby Street Part 2

My brother and sister-in-law are expanding their family by four feet.
Get it?

TWINS!!!!

YAHOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooo!

Whew!  I've been waiting awhile to get that one out.  And now that it's facebook official, I'm ready to dance a jig and share the news.

In that order.

Can you believe it?!?!

I can and I can't
         and it seems so natural
                       and yet so surreal
                              and so "well, of course"
                                        and also "what a miracle!"

What a miracle.

After a long (nearly five year) journey with infertility, my dear brother and sister-in-law are pregnant.

With twins.

Can you believe it?!

Oh yeah.  I already said that.

So.  Super.  Exciting.


And yet, my heart hurts for those who struggle with infertility -- well, all those who long for a child -- no matter what the circumstances surrounding it.

Joy in the midst of bitterness.


Read Joel & Melissa's amazing journey of pain and joy through infertility treatments (and a successful IVF) on her blog, Welcome to our Hearts.


Wow.

She's pregnant.

With twins.

(did I say that already?)


Congratulations, my lovely brother and sister.

I love you.

And those sweet little babies too.

The Belly

I keep getting compliments on my cute little round belly.

Only . . . they're not compliments.

Because I'm not pregnant.

I only look like I am.

Awesome.


I cannot tell you how many "is that a baby belly?" and "are you pregnant . . . ?" and looks and stares and wonders I've gotten in the last two weeks.

It's getting pretty embarrassing.

As one person said, "you don't have an ounce of fat on you . . . so I just thought . . ."

I laugh.

It's funny.

Sort of.

(No.  Not really.)


But it's seriously odd too.

I get it.  I look in the mirror and think, "What the . . . ?  Why do I look four months pregnant?"  And then, when you google things like that you end up with all sorts of crazy possibilities -- from hookworms to cancer to gas and other words I didn't bother pronouncing or looking up.

Of course.

Thanks google.


So . . . my belly is poking out.

And it doesn't matter what kind of clothes I'm wearing -- because people are staring trying to figure it out no matter if my clothes are well fitted or loose fitted . . .

and I should probably give up caring.


But you always do.

Well, at least I do.

Care.


Just a friendly reminder for the world at large . . . don't ask people if they're pregnant based on the size of their belly.  (Don't stare either.  But that's probably an unrealistic request.  Humans are curious.)

Maybe they've had three kids and their belly pokes out . . .

Or they're small chested, so a regular-sized belly looks rounder than it actually is . . .

Or maybe they do have some weird disease from the google possibilities. . .

(I'm hoping for only two out of the three reasons.)

But whatever the reason --

it's kind to just keep your question to yourself.

All you have to do is wait 9 months to see if your prediction is right. . .


or if it's just a belly that needs a bit of extra room.


(Ryan reassures me that people only ask because I look so glowing.

Isn't he a fabulous husband?)


And -- if you happen to be someone who has asked me . . . no worries . . . I'm not referring to you.  ;)

Wait for Me!

"I want to see the horses!" cried Dash.

No one else was too interested.  Finley was napping; Ryan was napping; Blazer wanted to just relax.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?"

I asked Blazer about a hundred times (or more.)

"You're not going to cry once we leave and wish you had come with us?"

Nope.

OK.  Dash and I got our shoes on and headed out the door.  As I was buckling him in his car seat, the front door flings open and Blazer shouts, 

"Wait for me!"

Blazer

"I don't wanna ride on the wagon!" cried Dash.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?"

I asked Dash about a hundred times (or more.)

Nope.

So Blazer and I took a fun clip-clop ride around the parking lot.  

Clip. Clop.  Clip.  Clop.

Such a friendly sound.

Dash stayed in Grammie's arms.

Dash

Goodbye Clydesdales.  Thanks for the ride.

We drive Grammie home, and as we're pulling out of her driveway, Dash cries, 

"Wait!  I wanna ride on the wagon!"

Of course you do.

Clip.

Clop.

Circus! Circus! Circus!

The Shrine Circus came to our corner of the world this weekend.  More specifically to the "Old K-Mart Parking Lot"  (Yes, that's literally what it says on the cover of the program.  Ryan thinks K-Mart may have left 20 years ago . .  .)

It was fun -- especially underneath an honest-to-goodness Big Top.

The kids enjoyed it off and on . . . Precious moments when all three were captivated by the action -- Finley waving her arms, clapping and spending time investigating the program.

There were other moments . . . tears, melt-downs, face plants, exploding snow cone juices . . . 

But all-in-all, a grand experience at the Circus!

Two thumbs up.

Circus Aftermath.  

Three children filled and/or covered with blue cotton candy, red snow cones and genuine circus popcorn.

Dash's favorite part -- the elephants.

He even drew a picture of one when we got home:

Complete with colorful circus lights and two circus-goers on for a ride.

Blazer's favorite part were the snacks . . . 

Go figure.

Written on Your Heart

I recently read that there are people out there who have memorized the entire Qur'an, word for word.

It also said the Qur'an is approximately as long as the New Testament.

After doing a miniscule amount of research, I discovered this is a pretty common practice for Muslims.  The Wikipedia page said it is estimated that there are tens of millions people alive today who have memorized the Qur'an.

Wow.

Amazing.

And super cool.

This is honestly something I had never thought about before.

So, of course, I had to look up "memorizing the Bible".  You get all sorts of flippant opinions on the matter -- from "Why in the world would you do that?" and "Pointless!" to steps on how to do it.

Wouldn't that be cool?  To memorize the Bible?  Or the New Testament?  Or entire books of the Bible?

Sounds like a challenge.

I like it.

SHEN Ling, "The Bible Reading Girl"，Oil on Canvas，1995

What a way to meditate on scripture night and day . . . to write it on your hearts and minds . . . to be constantly in God's Word . . . to carry it around without carrying anything at all . . . to dive so deeply into scripture that it's engraved -- imprinted -- steeped in your soul . . . to be able to breathe out scripture every time air escapes your mouth . . . to have a ready companion at all times . . . to have words to teach your children every step of the day.

Cool.

I think I might try it.

Not the whole thing -- I'm a bit too realistic for that.

But maybe a whole book.  Wouldn't that be awesome?

I'd start with Mark.  That one just lends easily to memorizing -- because of its very nature -- its urgency and immediacy and action.

Last night, as I was slipping into sleep, I memorized the first three verses.  It was absolutely lovely to drift off whispering God's Word --

to hear God's voice in a different way --

to breathe it in and exhale it out --

to listen to familiar words over and over until new meaning and new questions and new thoughts arose.

What a beautiful practice.

What a gift.

Hugues Merle's The Orphans -- Reading The Bible

Holy whispers . . . wondrous awe.

Air Five

I saw her this morning.

The mom who had just dropped her children off at school and was zooming to the next thing . . . work?  an appointment?  grocery shopping?  post office?

And as she was waiting at the stop sign --  there it was --

a huge, gigantic, face-contorting yawn.


I wanted to reach through our van windows and give her a high five.

Or an air five.

Or, at least, a knowing smile.


I want to be in the business of encouraging each other.

You know what I mean?

Life is hard work.  Whether we are tap dancing in the circus of mothering, swimming through oceans of bills or piles or messes or to-do's, hiking mountains of work, running races of tasks and responsibilities, wrestling with cell phone companies or doctors offices or that darn computer that keeps freezing up . . .  When we're giving our time and energy to volunteer, helping each other, reaching out in love and service . . .  Even things we love to do can be hard work --


It's a gift to be able to look around

and see a knowing smile, a loving wink, an expression of encouragement and support.

To hear "Hey!  You're doing great!"  "Keep it up!"  "Right on!" "Go for it!" "You can do this!"

It's our job -- our calling --

to give those encouraging salutes and head nods and thumbs up --

to bump another rump

       to shake another hand

                to give a high five.

And, if nothing else --

 to send that air five through the miles, through the windows, through the hearts of those who need to hear, "You Rock!  Good job, my friend."


Here's to you, yawning Mommy in the light blue van.

Here's to you.

Sleep and Tuesdays

You know what's amazing?


Really amazing?

Sleep.


Remember that calendar conundrum from a couple days ago?

Well this morning I hopped out of bed with a kick in my step and a zoom in my legs -- that duck greeted me and I gave him a cheerful "quack" right back.  Guess what?  I got 8 1/2 hours of sleep last night!  Fabulous!

Maybe all this hurry-up-month-and-get-over-with was just a need for a full night's sleep.

Trying to cram not-nearly everything in a day means I don't get to bed until midnight many nights.

I think I'm tired.


Yesterday was Tuesday and Tuesdays are Grammie days.  That means I take my two little ones over to Grammie's house right after I drop Blazer off at school.  And when I pick him up, I take him over there too.  To top it all off, when I picked them up yesterday -- we all stayed for dinner.

Do you know what that means?

Besides the fact that I was able to go grocery shopping all by myself, it means that the house stayed perfectly clean all day . . . and that I didn't have to cook or do any dishes all day.

Do you know what that means?

After I tucked my babies into bed . . .

I could go to bed too!!!

Usually that's when I'm dashing around the house picking up toys and clothes and books and papers and folding laundry and cleaning up from dinner and doing dishes.

When your kids aren't home all day . . . you don't have a mess!

This is an amazing concept.  Is this what it's like when your kids are in day care?  Crazy.

I literally kissed my boys goodnight and then brushed my teeth and crawled into bed.

What a gift.


It reminds me of the huge job I do everyday -- to care for three children, keep them safe, provide a clean and safe and loving environment, feed them, scrape their plates and take out their garbage, bathe them and brush their teeth and tuck them in with books and kisses.

It's hard work.

And it's lovely work.

And I'm thankful for the chance to do it.

Even though sometimes, when it's late and I'm tired and I don't feel like doing it, I have to tell myself,"Oh Elizabeth -- Buck up!  Just get it done."

Music helps.

(Kids following me around making bigger messes do not.)

I am fully aware that I probably won't be going to bed until after midnight again . . . but when I fall into bed at night, knowing that the morning will go a trillion percent smoother (and we'll actually get to school on time) because the kitchen table is cleared off and the dishes are done . . . and the shoes and backpacks are right where they're supposed to be . . . and no one will trip walking down the hall to the bathroom in the middle of the night . . .

I can rest easy.

Even if it's not the 8 1/2 hours I long for.


Hey!  Tuesday is only six days away.

No problem.

Overflowing Overwhelming

I am overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things I'm supposed to accomplish every day.


And by "supposed to" I mean:

Taking care of three children -- feeding them, brushing their teeth, getting them dressed, doing their laundry . . .

And taking care of a house -- making meals and doing dishes and cleaning bathrooms and floors and sinks and vacuuming and wading through all the stuff we own (we own way too much stuff . . .)

And taking care of paperwork -- sifting through mail and notices and emails magazines and newspapers and piles upon piles of who knows what's all here . . .

And working in a church -- which has its own piles of paperwork and too much stuff overflowing from my back office along with planning and calling and emailing and Bible studies and Sunday school and Youth Group and trips and Vacation Bible School and MOPS and extra things like baptismal banners and ordering things and sifting through money and records and writing newsletters and

just

plain

keeping

up.


I think it's impossible.


Because I can't.

Keep up, that is.

And I am reminded again,

                    of a promise fulfilled

                                                   of hope

                                                                and life

                                                                              and victory

          through The Lamb

                            who shepherds me --

                     gently beckoning me to lie in green pastures;      

                                     leading me beside still waters

           restoring my soul.

My cup overflows.

One day I'm going to have to learn how to live overflowing in the midst of overwhelming.


Maybe I already have.