the blessing of a simple life

It was ten o'clock on a Sunday morning.  My children had already had 25 minutes each on a pbskids.com computer activity.  They had already had a morning snack.  The little one had already viewed half a Barney video.

 It was in the low 30's outside and windy, as it had been for several days.

My children were dangerously bored.  I had no car.  Daddy wasn't expected home until 3:00 PM, and shortly after that, our day would speed up with dinner and baths and church prep.

I had a lot of folding to catch up on, and I wanted it done before the school week began.  Entertainment director?  No time for that.

Part of me felt sorry for my kids.  Other families, the ones with decent jobs and/or dual careers, were out having family fun, while we were spending another day at home.

Were my kids disadvantaged?

In my heart I knew the answer was no.  I pushed aside all thoughts to the contrary.

My kids have an intact family with loving--not perfect, but loving--Christian parents.  They have shelter, food, safety, clothes and freedom to worship.

It may be years before they'll know what a vacation is like.  Or what a decent restaurant is like.  Or what a new car feels like.  But where in the Bible does it say we're to provide those things?

The world's way is so provocative and convincing, isn't it?  Since when do kids need anything at all, except for love, shelter, food, clothes, and safety?

I told the Lord I didn't want the computer or TV on and would he please help me?

Just set things out, he whispered.  Let them do the rest.

I set out cardboard to cover the table.  I set out glue, markers, paper, tape, pencils, pens and scissors.

They created.  We prayed.  They watched birds out the window.  They read books.  Daddy came home and did model painting with Paul.  Next he took them for a walk while I prepared dinner.  They got baths and played with the foam letters.  We had taco bake together, followed by church, then home at 8:30, followed by pajamas, brushing teeth and bedtime.

No, it wasn't the best day of their lives.  But after my prayer, they didn't mention boredom again.

I remembered Sally's loaves and fishes and I gave the day over to Him. What do you want me to do next, Lord?  I'll do it, whatever it is.


One of the things he spoke to me today was this:  Don't worry about giving them things or experiences.  Those don't make a life.  They are fleeting. Instead, show them how to live for me--how to be worshipful, faithful, sacrificial, long-suffering, and thankful.

Material wealth creates distractions.  It provides too many choices--go there, experience this, buy that. When it comes to building a foundation of faith and agape love, simpler is better.

Other than a joyful personal relationship with God, do you know what I hope they leave my home with?

An open, thankful heart for whatever God gives.

God only gives good things. If they get an old, two-hundred thousand mile van, instead of a new Lexus, then it's good.  It's better.  Accept it with thanksgiving and praise.  I want that kind of faith for them.  That kind of gratitude.  I want them to live in this world, but not be of this world.

Romans 12:2 NIV

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

Saturday's grace - dancing

Momma and Beth, dancing to Jesus music

Miss Beth saw me turn up a Christian song on the radio.  That was her cue! When Momma turns up the radio, it's time to dance!

Sure enough, Beth's face lit up.  She ran over and asked me to dance with her.

As we danced, I knew.  This is God's grace for me, for this hour.  Oh, it was so lovely!

Peter was a nervous, hyper handful all day, following me around talking incessantly about birds, detailing all the things he wants to buy to attract more birds.  He gets a lot of expensive ideas from bird books!  He's taken to praying several times a day, in a pleading voice, that Daddy gets a better job, so we can buy more bird paraphernalia.  Poor Daddy!  Sure, we all want a better job, but this whole bird thing makes husband feel more pressured than ever.

I don't have a good camera for distance shots; sorry about the blurriness.  We've been getting a lot of red-winged blackbirds lately, and lots of different woodpeckers.  We all enjoy the view!

Peter put seed all over the yard, hoping to attract more friends.  It worked!

ADHD children hover around you most of the day.  It's like having a perpetual shadow, except when they get engrossed in something.  I loved it when Peter read for a few hours a day, but since encountering the OCD difficulties with repeating words and phrases, he's never gone back to devouring books.  I remember how he used to say, "Mommy, I just love to read!"

I wonder if I'll ever hear that again?  I thought we had beat this, but it's only when he reads Scripture that the repeating goes away.  I'm still praying and trusting, but this saddens me--not the Scripture part, of course.  That's a wonderful blessing.

I love Peter's enthusiasm for life science, but if he had his way, I'd never spend a moment with my other children.  His lack of impulse control renders him selfish, unfortunately.

God did apply some grace to this problem, earlier this week.  I don't remember why, but Mary followed Peter around for an hour.  Finally, exasperated, he said to me, "Is this how it feels to be followed all day?"

That made me smile.  He's really a sweet boy!  I just hope he finds a long-suffering, sweet wife!  May it be so, Lord!

So far he hasn't found the impulse control to stop following me, but at least he can relate to the fatigue I feel.

What in the world is this?

Well, so many people stare at me funny when I have my kids with me, that I decided to take a picture of myself in different lights, to see how badly I'm ageing.  This is bathroom lighting.  The acne scars make it far worse; they look like wrinkles. Being tired doesn't help either.

Lord, may my own daughters not get acne, please?  It's an emotionally painful condition, as some of you may know.

This is living-room lighting, with light coming from the window.

 Can you imagine this face yelling at you, because after being asked to dress three times, you've still not put on your pajamas?  (That would be Paul, my absent-minded professor.)

Ugh!  I'll never yell again. How scary!

The solution to my homeliness woes is to smile.  I need to smile most of the time.  

What my face can't provide, my spirit can.  

Children love smiley moms--even 45-year-old ones.

my precious girls

On Tuesday we made chocolate chocolate-chip cookies, without the chocolate chips, because, once again, I ate them.  Not by myself entirely, mind you.  Every time I chew chocolate chips, stealthy stolen from the baking cupboard, someone sees me, or smells them, and asks for some. And I can't say no, because doing so would undermine my credibility--making me a hypocrite.  I hate the word hypocrite; I don't want to be anything that starts with hypo.

So, between the five of us munching on chips from the baking cupboard, we can only hope to bake with them within 48 hours of buying them.  Beyond 48 hours, forget it.

You're about to see an insane number of pictures of Mary and Beth and cookie baking.  Why?  Because I love baking with these precious girls. 

- I love that Mary dutifully makes balls with her dough, while popping a bit in her mouth only intermittently.

- I love that Beth really wants to be a Momma's helper, but ends up eating more dough than she rolls (yes, I worry about the raw eggs).  She is like her Momma.  A cookie monster.  I love that about her.  I watch closely, because she'll ruin her next meal if I'm not vigilant.  I put 13 cookies on her pan myself, to her 3. Then I help Mary finish filling hers, before taking away the dough and pans, and releasing the girls.  I finish the baking tasks myself. This saves them both from gluttony and malnutrition, because we bake twice a week.  Don't ask what saves me from cookie gluttony.  Nothing, right now.  Breastfeeding burns calories in Momma's body; it's good for both of us.  When Beth decides to stop nursing, I'll have to give up cookies and eat carrots and celery.  God help me love them--carrots and celery, that is.

- I love how their eyes light up when I announce baking time.

- I love how dutifully, cheerfully, they go and wash their hands.  Not all directions are followed cheerfully around here, but washing hands to help in the kitchen is always done joyfully.  I love that.

- I love how they dip their hands into the dry ingredients, feeling all the different textures.

- I love how the boys, mostly uninterested in helping, always manage to make their way to the kitchen, just as the first batch comes out.  I really love that. Cookies, made with love by Momma and sisters, are one of God's graces to our family.  They bring joy. That new, bisque-colored GE range in the background there, also brings joy.  It heats to 350 degrees in four minutes!

- I love how Mary and Beth put their hands over mine when we use the electric mixer.  I love how they giggle over the vibration.

- I love that Beth copies everything I do--including turning the bowl as we mix.

Tuesday it was chocolate chocolate cookies, Friday it was oatmeal raisin. Beth eagerly started, measuring out some rolled oats before Momma even gave instructions.  Does she have it memorized?

These little girls are in bed, long asleep.  How I want to scoop them up from their beds right now and rock them in my rocker--drinking in their milky skin and eyelashes, trying to etch each curve into memory, for when they're grown and gone, leaving me to rock alone.  They are the sweetest blessings!

God knew!  He really knew!  We tried to get pregnant when we had our boys, but not so with our girls.  We just didn't do anything artificial or fool-proof.  I didn't want to be an old Momma, but I can't imagine life without these girls.  It would be so heavy here without them. They are God's grace to me--to this household.

May I give unsolicited advice?  Go ahead and throw an egg at your computer if you want. Let the babies come!  God knows what's in store for you.  He has perfect plans for every moment of your life. If he wants to give you a baby, let Him.  I promise you, there will never be a baby in your life who won't bless you.  Even a baby lost through miscarriage still blesses.  No, you can't do anything about your husband's vasectomy choice, but you can keep your own heart open.  Though my husband had the vasectomy, I believe God will still bless my open heart--my heart for His blessings, for His open hand, no matter what the hand holds.

No, there is nothing glamorous about people always staring at me with my kids, wondering if I'm the grandma or the mother. That hurts sometimes. But it pales in comparison to the blessing that these girls are--born when I was 40 and 42.

Rearing children is hard.  Gruelling even, at times.  But remember Sally Clarkson and her fishes and loaves?  Nothing forces you to give God your fishes and loaves, daily, like mothering does.  

It's the most beautiful, most worthwhile, most world-changing thing you'll ever do.

And no other endeavour changes--sanctifies, even--your own heart as much as mothering does.  This is true whether you've given birth, or opened your heart to an orphan.

 "You didn't eat more dough, did you Beth, after Momma asked you not to?"

Do you think that's a guilty face?  That full mouth giving it away?

The counter and the floor are always messy afterwards--far messier than if I'd done the baking myself.  But looking at this mess, I feel so blessed.  It doesn't get any better than this.

I don't want tidiness or perfection.  I don't want a fat savings account or manicured nails or exciting adventures.  I want an abundant life.  A messy, poured-out life, lived by faith...full of thanks-giving.

How about you?