What we've been up to.

So thankful to have a "day off" from pressing calligraphy project deadlines. I'm loving the business--and the work--but I can't say it doesn't make me feel super stretched to the limit. When I actually sit down at my drafting table and work, I really love it. But usually I wake up and in the torrent of hormones that is the state of my pregnant body, I want to pull the covers back over my head and forget about responsibility. And just that feeling makes me feel like a failure.

When we moved to Memphis, one of the extremely sweet and providential things God did for us was place us at a church where vulnerability in relationships is championed. Our pastor has a long history in counseling, and he is sincerely interested in his staff and their spouses and how they're getting on with life. Since life and I  haven't been the best of friends recently, so I went to talk with him last week. There were no "Five Steps to Happiness" given, or quick and simple answers to my hormonal vacuum, but to share my frustrations and fears with someone other than Tony (who feels what I feel and isn't completely objective (as he shouldn't be!)) was so relieving. And since that simple talk with Joe--and the big burger, large fry, and chocolate shake he made me go buy afterward to enjoy in silence--I have felt a big difference. I think the key is sharing our struggles. When I try to muscle through without God's help (because I should be able to do this by myself, dang it!) or the help of the people that care about me (because I should be able to do this by myself, dang it!), I fail. Every time.

All that to say: be honest with yourself, with God, and with others about your struggles, and I think you'll find, like I did, that you're not alone. What a beautiful truth. 

On to kid pictures!

Our big, bottle-holding baby. We've never had a bottle-fed baby before, and I must say, it is nice to occasionally plop the kid down on some pillows with a bottle and do what you need to do.

 Handsome, handsome little man:

We found out Baby Four is a boy! Name still TBD.

 I caught this look of Judah's after nap one day, and it is just the perfect representation of what that time of day is like:

 We played outside. One day. Several weeks ago.

 This girl is an artist, hands down. It is innate in her little person, and I love it. Today we went to Target and Judah picked a foam sword. Elizabeth picked a pack of mini gel pens. So her.

 An example of what she draws: a keep-out sign for her bedroom door. Hmmm....

 She also likes to put Judah in drag. I laugh, Tony gets irritated.

 We found out my sister's baby is a GIRL! Hooray for pink things and little girl clothes!

Last Saturday we braved Chuck E. Cheese for the first time ever. It was surprisingly not the Apocalypse! Also, while we were there, two ladies from my church (including my pastor's wife) were at our house cleaning. How blissfully wonderful. That might have contributed to my extremely relaxed approach to the Chuck E. Cheese madness.

 And this is what we call all played out. 

That's what we've been up to! Off to read up on how to make fondant for Judah's Buzz Lightyear birthday cake. He turns three on Friday! Maybe if I keep this up there might be a post about it. Here's hoping!

Some updating.

Hello there, sweet friends who actually still read this. We are--all six of us--still alive over here. Blogging has taken an extreme backseat to living, which seems completely to fill up my time on its own (imagine that!). Things are very slowly settling down though. Here are updates on us:

• We moved into our very first home the day before Christmas Eve. It was a crazy, crazy time, as I'm sure you can imagine. The kids' first night here was Christmas Eve. It will most certainly be a holiday we will never forget! God is so good to me, even in the little things. He knows how I work. If I get too excited too early, it wears off and then I'm left with blah. I kept wondering why I wasn't jumping out of my seat every time I thought about moving into our house. I just was not that excited. Ready, but not excited. Overwhelmed, but not excited. Looking forward to what I hoped it would mean for our family, but not excited. You get the picture. But since we've moved in, I've seen the kindness of the Lord at work in this small thing in my heart. Because instead of being prematurely ecstatic, I have slowly and sweetly been realizing specific things I love about our house. I know that my coming about it this way will make my thankfulness grow permanent in my heart. I am so grateful to the Lord for working in me this way about something that is so near and dear to me as a wife and mother: my home.

• I am almost 21 weeks pregnant (I always want to round up the weeks when I'm pregnant, ha.) We have yet to find out whether this sweet one is our second baby girl or our third baby boy. We've had issues with switching insurance, otherwise we would probably know already! It's funny how stuff changes with consecutive pregnancies...I would have been losing my mind if I had gone this long without knowing with my first one! We had the date planned and I literally could not sleep the night before. With this one, our precious fourth, I am so much less anxious. I still want to know, absolutely, but I'm not flipping out. Don't even really know why! Perhaps I have a few other things to distract me during the day....

• Elizabeth is almost 4 and a half, Judah is almost 3, and Rivers is almost 10 months. They are my discipline and my joy, my tears and my laughter. They are the the low and high of every day, the worst and the very, very best. Hard to explain, but maybe you've been there too?

I really did not intend to do a lengthy, pictureless post, but I was already at the computer and waiting for something to download and there you go. I had lost my good camera's battery charger, so there is a depressing lack of quality pictures from Christmas and the move-in. Found it when we moved though, so there should be some pictures on here the next go round. 

I'll leave you with yet another link to Kingdom Poets. I couldn't help it--T.S. Eliot is the most recent post, and not only that, but the excerpt featured is one of my most favorite of his. Maybe THE most. Feed your soul, and I hope I'll see you back here soon enough.

"The dove descending...."

So this may be a regular thing.

So ever since I found D.S. Martin's blog, via The Rabbit Room, I've felt like that little literature-class-sized hole in my life has been filled. If only I could take some fresh new notebooks and a package of Uniball Precise pens and sit at a desk, I'd be complete. (I'm really only partially joking. My husband is still confounded at the school lover in me.)

Anyway, Kingdom Poets featured Angelico Chavez a couple of days ago, and I wanted to share one of his little poems that moved me with its simplicity and profundity. I have visions of it calligraphied and framed and hanging somewhere in my once and future home.

Jesus at the Well

Give me to drink this desert wine,
This water welled by men;
Amen, I say, but drink of mine,
You shall not thirst again.

Give me to drink, for I am I,
Begging from earthly jars,
Who plunged the Dipper in the sky
And splashed the night with stars.

"..for I am I." Yes.

Stirring.

I discovered a poem today, along with a new blog to follow. I also discovered the poetry-lover that has lain dormant in me for a while under the day-to-day piling on of wife/motherhood tasks and duties that are not usually conducive to literature reading (except nursing, which is one reason I love it so very, very much).

I found said poem (and said blog) via this tweet from Andrew Peterson, the author of a series of books called the Wingfeather Saga, the third of which I just finished two nights ago (The Monster in the Hollows, see the link over to the right under "Currently Reading"):

@AndrewPeterson

Andrew Peterson

This poem by John Betjeman is brutally honest. Thank God I'm not alone in this feeling.http://bit.ly/k1t40W

Here's the post as featured at The Rabbit Room, which was originally written by D.S. Martin on his blog, Kingdom Poets.

And here's the poem, written by Sir John Betjeman {1906-1984}. Steady your soul.

     The Conversion of St. Paul

     
     What is conversion? Not at all
     For me the experience of St Paul,
     No blinding light, a fitful glow
     Is all the light of faith I know
     Which sometimes goes completely out
     And leaves me plunging into doubt
     Until I will myself to go
     And worship in God's house below--
     My parish church--and even there
     Find distractions everywhere.

     What is Conversion? Turning round
     To gaze upon a love profound.
     For some of us see Jesus plain
     And never once look back again,
     And some of us have seen and known
     And turned and gone away alone,
     And most of us turn slow to see
     The figure hanging on a tree
     And stumble on and blindly grope
     Upheld by intermittent hope.
     God grant before we die we all
     May see the light as did St Paul.

I love this poem's vulnerability and transparency, and I love how concisely, simply, accessibly, and beautifully it conveys its sentiment, just like good poetry is supposed to do. Taking the time to read and meditate on things like this makes something in my soul come alive. My heart responds to the truth and beauty of it.

Has anything resonated with you lately? If so, I'd love to hear about it. I think this would count as an exercise in "stirring one another up to love and good works."

And I pray that as we do so, we would also stir others to "[turn] round [and] gaze upon a love profound."

The Labor Liturgy.

Subtitle: "On fear, part II."
Sub-subtitle: "Today is my due date."

These are more excerpts from the piece of paper tucked inside my hospital bag:



"Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!"

Psalm 34:8

"You are my hiding place...you surround me
with shouts of deliverance."

Psalm 32:8

"You strengthen me more and more;
you enfold and comfort me."

Psalm 71:21

"There is no fear in love...."

I John 4:18a

"[She] is not afraid of bad news;
[her] heart is firm, trusting in the Lord.
[Her] heart is steady; [she] will not be afraid."

Psalm 112:7-8a

"And he [Jesus] shall be their peace."

Micah 5:5a

"The Lord knows how to rescue the godly from trials."

II Peter 2:9a

"And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace
by those who make peace."

James 3:18

"Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost
those who draw near to God through him,
since he always lives to make intercession for them."

Hebrews 7:25

"Oh tarry and await the Lord's pleasure;
be strong, and he shall comfort your heart;
wait patiently for the Lord."

Psalm 27:18

"You are good and you bring forth good!"

from Psalm 119

These are all verses that the Lord himself has brought to me in His perfect timing over the past couple of weeks. I never searched the concordance for passages on fear--in fact, it never even occured to me--and yet He has been so faithful and kind to speak to my need from His Word until the fear was gone. I suppose it couldn't stay around anyway, because it is the antithesis of perfect love. Every moment I choose to let Love reign, the fear must flee.(What promise!) The struggle for me lies in the frequency of the confrontation between love and fear. It is a momentary battle to choose to trust; it is a struggle that seems to begin all over again a thousand times a day. But I rest in this promise: Love will win every time!

On fear.

"Behold, God is my help; it is the Lord who sustains my life."

from Psalm 119 [emphasis mine]

"...God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind."

II Timothy 1:7 [emphasis mine]

"...do good and do not fear anything that is frightening." {a word specifically to women!}

I Peter 3:6b

"All the paths of the Lord are love and faithfulness to those who keep his covenant and his testimonies."

from Psalm 25

"My heart quakes within me, and the terrors of death have fallen upon me. Fear and trembling have come over me, and horror overwhelms me. And I said, 'Oh, that I had wings like a dove...I would hasten to escape from the stormy wind and tempest.' But I will call upon God, and the Lord will deliver me. Cast your burden upon the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous stumble."

Psalm 55: 4-6, 8, 16, 22

The timeliness of God's word sometimes catches me off guard. Fear is something I've been dealing with and struggling through these past few weeks, but God is--as ever--showing Himself faithful. And not only faithful, but completely and intimately aware of my thoughts and my heart. He must be, to give me such timely encouragement. Another thing I'm having to live is the belief that fear is the opposite of faith. Fear prompts the counter action to faith...and vice versa. So to counteract fear, I must declare that it has no place in my life (for perfect Love has cast it out!). That declaration of faith becomes an act of faith. There's something to be said for the power of spoken words. And I am learning to choose to say, "I am not afraid."

100th post!

Hey! We're getting somewhere. The 100th post is a milestone, right? All you frequent bloggers quit shaking your heads at me.

Not much has been happening here, other than some serious nesting. Exhibits A, B, C, and so on:



Baby clothes all washed and waiting for a sweet little body to cover.



Blankets and Moby wrap washed and diapers ready for action.



Cradle's ready in our room at Tony's parents' house (where we're currently living).
Some wonderfully generous friends from our church are letting us borrow this beautiful thing so Rivers has somewhere to sleep.



Bags are packed for the most part, except for the things I still use everyday.



The present you see at the top right of that last picture is for Judah and Elizabeth when they come to meet the baby for the first time in the hospital. I got them each a simple little "Big Sister Elizabeth" and "Big Brother Judah" shirts off etsy and a sweet lady gave us a bag full of toys for them at my shower...which I came home and hid until I wrapped them up with their shirts. Hopefully that will be a fun and special thing for them...apart from meeting their new brother! 

Elizabeth is estatic about Rivers, always hugging my tummy, saying "I loooove you, baby Rivers" and wanting to feeling him kick (and then being thrilled when he does). We talk about how much she's going to help me as the big sister, and I really think she will. I'm so excited to see her with him.

Judah is a wild card. He knows where the baby is when we ask him (he points to my belly), and occasionally will randomly say "Rivers," but that's about it. He is 100% into two-year-old mode, so that's a little scary. Prayers would be appreciated!

As far as Tony and I go, I'm just basically trying to make it through each day with my heavy eyelids open and trying to be as un-zombie-like as possible. I do not remember being this exhausted and sleepy right before the other two! Tony says it's never really real to him until the baby actually gets here. Which I sort of get...except that I have a huge reminder that I'm lugging around in front of me all the time. I think we're all just ready to get this show on the road! Really trying to be patient though, resting and enjoying our last days with just two kids. 

I feel like, at least for me, it's that way in every area and at every time of my life. I so want to live in the present moment, not wishing away today in anticipation of tomorrow, or dwelling on the good things (or the regrets!) of the past. God is granting me the grace to do that, but I have to remember to ask for it almost momentarily. We're living the practical application of "my grace is sufficient for you" these days.

Stay tuned!

Read this.

America Quiet on the Execution of Afghan Christian Said Musa - By Paul Marshall - The Corner - National Review Online

The beauty of [His] peace.

I wrote a post with a playlist back in April, and I wanted to resurrect those two songs again for today's post. With our life in seeming turmoil (I have to believe it is indeed only "seeming"), these words have been both balm to my soul and needed reminders of what my life is supposed to look like (Jesus'!), even when everything is so chaotic and uncertain.

"Garden," a song by Matt Maher, talks about how God is redeeming and renewing everything in creation, including me, and re-creating it back to what it was supposed to have been...the way life was in the Garden of Eden, when man walked and talked with God, as with a friend.

"The Beauty of Your Peace," by Tim Hughes, is the song I want to talk about. It's incredible food for thought, especially if you're like me and your mind gets frequently hijacked by the enemy and the world into self-pity and into believing lies that tell you that you should respond a certain way to the stresses of life. (For instance, multiple times a day I have to "take every [single] [little] [minuscule] thought captive" and make it obedient to Christ, like Christ, otherwise I'm consumed with thoughts like, "I have a right to be frustrated, I have a right to be stressed out, I have a right to be frazzled." But I so DO NOT have those rights, praise God. I have put on Christ. Now I have the right (and the responsibility) to choose His Peace over everything else.)

From the chorus:

Take from our souls the strain and stress

And let our ordered lives confess

The beauty of Your peace

The beauty of Your peace

It blows my mind that the order of my life confesses how beautiful the peace of Christ is to everyone around me. Wow. And yikes. What a promise, what a responsibility.

Tony and I watched a show the other night called "Mind Games" which featured the story of Mary and Beth Stauffer, a woman and her eight-year-old daughter who were kidnapped thirty years ago by a stalker. They were raped repeatedly and held captive for two months before escaping. Right at the beginning of the show, when Mary and Beth were being interviewed, the radiance in their faces just struck me. I knew instinctively that they were believers, because what else on earth causes that kind of indescribable, inexplicable light to shine out of women who undergo that kind of experience? Sure enough, the interviewers soon highlighted the fact that Mary was a woman of "deep faith" and that at the time she and her husband were "former missionaries" (in the thirty years since, they have gone back to be missionaries in the Philippines).

I won't write every detail of their story (you can read about/watch it here), but the way she and her daughter responded to their ordeal, compared to how "normal" people would respond, was stunning, as Love often is. And her husband likewise...if you watch it, listen to how he answers a phone call from his daughter! And at one point, the interviewer says to him, "You must have felt rage, you must have wanted to get revenge." When he answered, you could see that he was hesitant to even use those words. But he was honest and said that yes, he had felt rage and even hatred...and that he had to really "work through" those feelings. Only a person concerned with being like Christ says something like that. The world does not require anything of a victim. Again, the enemy would have us believe that Mary's husband had a right to revenge and a right to rage and even a right to hate. But in Christ we are above anything the enemy can do to us, anything circumstance, any experience, any suffering. What perspective!

As usual, this was a way longer post than I intended it to be. Thanks for hanging in there, if you are still there. I promise there will be pictures and cute baby stories soon. I needed to write this all down because it's been whirling around in my head for a few days. And if anything, you can be my accountability on the days when I really want to believe that I have a right to go crazy. Days like every day coming in this sorting, packing, moving week.

May the peace of Christ be with us all!

The Complaint and the Answer.

" 'Read your complaint,' said the judge.

I looked at the roll in my hand and saw at once that it was not the book I had written. It couldn't be; it was far too small. And too old - a little, shabby, crumpled thing, nothing like the great book that I had worked on all day, day after day. I thought I would fling it down and trample on it. I'd tell them someone had stolen my complaint and slipped this thing into my hand instead. Yet I found myself unrolling it. It was written all over inside, but the hand was not like mine. It was all a vile scribble... But already I heard myself reading it...

There was silence in the assembly. At last the judge spoke.

'Are you answered?' he said.

'Yes,' said I.

That was four days ago. They found me lying on the grass, and I had no speech for many hours...

I ended my book with the words 'no answer'... there had been no answer from the gods, and my case I laid before them. But I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face, questions die away. What other answer would suffice? Only words, words; to be led out to battle against other words. Long did I hate you, long did I fear you...

But now..."

[from C.S. Lewis' Till We Have Faces]

Found this as I was catching up on Lauren's blog this morning. Lauren is a friend only God could give, as the circumstance of our meeting was perfectly "random," and perfectly timely. The book has always been one of my favorites, from my preteen years to the paper I wrote on it senior year to now.

 Thought it was quite relevant.

Happiness is sleeping babies.

Five months ago.

Yesterday.

Today.

There's just something about sleeping babies. And sleeping babies with full tummies...well, that's The Ultimate for me. Even Elizabeth gets it. Every time she's eaten well, she makes sure to find me and say, "I ate my food aaalllll gone. Makes you so happy?"

Makes me sooooo happy.

It also makes me think...if I, being an earthly parent, desire good things for my children, how much more does my Heavenly Father desire good things for me? And if Elizabeth or Judah ask me for food (oh happy question!), would I give them a stone, which is ineffective, or a snake, which is harmful? [Matthew 7.] Absolutely not!

It thrills me to meet my children's needs. And it delights me to no end to give them their heart's desire.

Being a parent is a moment-by-moment tutorial on How He Loves. My lessons are so sweet.

Our life, currently.

I think it's about time to let the blogging world in on the details of the craziness that is our life. I've been a little vague about it (the job, the traveling, etc.) because we were just cautiously walking through things, but now we're at T-minus three weeks before we move out of our house and we don't know where we're going.

That's right.

Let me explain. Ten months ago Tony was working as the Student Pastor of Worship and Media at the church that brought us to Atlanta three and a half years ago. Then at the end of last summer he was approached by a friend of ours with an opportunity to play professional golf for a year, during which time our friend was going to cover our living expenses and all golf expenses. It stunned us, both with its generosity and its seeming temptation. This--golf--was the thing that Tony surrendered to the Lord when God got a hold of his life around nine years ago, so when this opportunity was presented to him, he shied away from it a bit because it seemed like a test.

Yet we had felt the change in our hearts concerning Tony's job for some time before this, and we prayed seriously and sought the Lord on it for over a month, and we kept coming to the conclusion that, without a doubt, this was what the Lord had for us. So we stepped in faith. And it was scary.

And so Tony practiced and played and prayed, and prayed and played and practiced, for about six months. Then in the middle of February, Elizabeth got sick with pneumonia and was in the hospital for three days. We remember the exact dates because the second day she was there, February 17, was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, and it was the last time Tony ever talked to our sponsor.

Fast forward eight weeks. Still no word from our sponsor, still no money from our sponsor. One night, Tony gets a call from one of our friends telling him to tune into our local news. Long-ish story very short, our sponsor is in jail.

And we are hurting. On so many levels, in so many ways, and not the least of which is hurting for him and his family. Bad decisions are now harming so many.

So here we are, unemployed and income-less for almost four months now. It's the eleventh hour and there's still, even now, an excitement in me, a "faintly burning wick," that's anticipating the Lord making His grand move. Because throughout this fire--this hot, melting, maiming fire--I've had questions and accusations for God that I've never had before. And honestly, they are questions and accusations that I've mocked people for. I mean, just have faith! Simple! Easy! What's wrong with you?

In that respect, I am so thankful that we've had this experience. Tony and I even agreed the other day that we wouldn't trade it for anything. We can now empathize with the unemployed and struggling, whereas, before, we were hard pressed to even muster up any true sympathy. And we wouldn't change this time either because we still would rather be slain by the God whom we trust than be blessed by the world. And it does seem like a slaying. A slaying without an angel being sent to stay the hand that holds the knife. We feel like an abandoned Isaac, dead at his father's hand at the command of the Lord.

But we know that's not the story. And we'll continue to say, even now when the ropes are being tied around us and we're being laid out on the altar, that God is good. In all things, He is good. When it means we prosper, He is good. When it means we suffer, He is good. When it means that our life's story is used in some "minuscule" way to advance the kingdom, He is good. When it means we are slain, He is good. Even as I type, my heart affirms this truth. He is good.

So I guess I'm answering my own questions tonight. Today the world looked so dark to me, so hopeless. Judah was sick, our routine was shot, the house got dirty, and it was yet another day that passed with no money, no job leads, and no news of any kind. But tonight, tonight God laid it on my heart to blog all of this that we've been living for the majority of the past year, and in it He ministered to me, as He always does when He provides a way for me to remember His goodness and His faithfulness. I am so quick to let the crap fill my entire field of vision, and then I'm blinded to the real story, the real workings of the Lord in my life. It has become a constant discipline for me to broaden my view, expand my perspective, and live joyfully. I've been terrible at it, truthfully. But I'm working it out "with fear and trembling," and am ceaselessly humbled by the fact that this God knows me, and despite knowing me, loves me, delights in me, thinks about me, plans good things for me.

And He "remembers that [I am] dust" (Ps. 103:14). This has been illuminated in my mind throughout this whole saga. I've never really gotten that verse until now, and now I cling to it and cherish it. It is so dear to me to think that God, who made me human, remembers that I am only human, with human emotions, human limitations, human failings. That's not an excuse to wallow in my humanity, but an opportunity to acknowledge God's greatness and kindness in dealing with us fragile things. It helps me so much to be reminded of that. I can't explain it the way I feel it just now...maybe it's another post for another time. This one is really long.

So, whew. That's about it, not so much in a nutshell as a whole oak tree, but anyway. Now you have the backdrop to whatever is coming for us in the next little bit in our lives. There are little hints of job opportunities, but nothing sure and nothing clear. We're still praying about why God's leaving us in the dark as of yet. There's the possibility of Texas, of Florida, of Memphis (which would include a stint for me in the workforce, hmmm), a few leads in Atlanta, and still a lot of questions. Your prayers are coveted, I assure you. So glad you're walking through it with me, blogfriends.

Now playing.

Since I cannot for the life of me find the URLs for these songs to put them on my regular playlist down there on the bottom of this page, I made a Playlist for you of 2 songs that I love, love, love. Enjoy.

Also, the Sara Groves' song playing first on my old playlist is one I added today, so be sure to give it a listen too.

Welcome, Holy Week.

Just the thought of the power of this week in the life and culture of the Church stills me for a moment. The solemn joy of the sufferings of Christ made perfect by His Resurrection overwhelms me and leaves me wordless. That's why this isn't going to be a long post. I'm not going to even try to find the language to express how deeply changed I am because this week, these earth-altering events, happened over two thousand years ago.

This year I've participated in the Lenten fast for the first time in my life, and I have loved the daily opportunity to give up some fleshly desire to Jesus as a way of saying to Him that I am remembering Him and what He suffered for me.  Six weeks of sacrificing something small in order to align myself--in such an infinitesimally small way--with the trials of my Lord have made the expectation of the rejoicing to come this Sunday that much fuller and dearer.

Think with me this week about the hugeness of God confining Himself to flesh, and then to death, for us. And anticipate with me the happy celebration of the truth of the Resurrection!

[from Isaiah 25]

{v. 4} "For you have been a stronghold to the poor, a stronghold to the needy in distress, a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat....

{v. 6} On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food...

{v. 8} He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces, and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the Lord has spoken.

{v. 9} It will be said on that day, 'Behold, this is our God, we have waited for him, that he might save us. This is the Lord; we have waited for him; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.'"

[from Isaiah 53]

{v. 11} "Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied; by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities."

Hello again.

I haven't posted in a while because honestly, since the earthquake in Haiti, I haven't felt like there was much in my life that merited any of your time. I've been mentally absorbed with this tragedy probably more than I would have been, sadly, if something our pastor said a few weeks ago hadn't been repeating itself in my head.

He was, I think, on some sort of rabbit trail talking about slavery and he said that everyone nowadays thinks that if we had lived in the early 19th century, we would have all been abolitionists. But--and this was the kicker--he said that if we don't care about the slavery that's still taking place in the world today, we probably wouldn't have cared about it then.

Ouch. OUCH! I seriously have thought about that every single day since then. How do I even care for the poor and the needy right next door, much less the literal slave that still in bondage who lives as close to America as Haiti? And then the earthquake hit. And then I started thinking how easily I feel a moment of detached sadness for the suffering Haitian people on the news, and then go back to caring about the most trivial, worthless things, like making sure Tony got some me chocolate when he went on a diaper run.

This struggle to care has been going on since the Tuesday of the earthquake. I just started Twitter (Twittering? Tweeting? Twittererering?) about two weeks ago, and every day I have to force myself not to skim over the posts about Haiti in order to get onto the funny stuff. It sickens me that there's still such a big part of me that wants to be entertained instead of convicted.

So this is a post with a new label: confession. It's been nagging at my spirit for a while now that I never take the time to write about the things the Lord is teaching me, the stuff He's refining in me, the adventure to which He's calling me. Instead I have concerned myself with entertaining. Don't misunderstand me: there will still be kid pictures (see above) and funny stories (because my daughter facilitates them soooo easily), enough hyphenation to cross your eyes and mayhap a boring no-picture recipe or two, but there's more to my life than that, and I want to honor the God who's doing the good stuff in me.

Here's one thing I want to leave you with that hit me between the eyes today, and definitely prompted this little Rachel-revelation that's been stewing for a bit:

"A man has no right to be called faithful,
if his faith is a bare word and if he has not
in him a faith made active by love or the Spirit." - St. Gregory

I'm still a little knocked out by it, and, honestly, I hope to be for a while to come.

A thought to end the night.

As I'm blogging, Tony's watching TBN, which--off though they may be on many counts--they are so right by having Kari Jobe on tonight. Here's a snippet of her last song that just resonated with me:

I know that You are for me

I know You will never forsake me in my weakness.

What a promise! All those things I think I fail in every day, all those shortcomings and not-enoughs, pale in the light of God's constancy. He does not run when we don't live up to ourselves. He isn't scared away by our guilt. More than that, it is in our weaknesses we are made strong and His power gets the chance to be made perfect in us. How beautiful to be reminded.

If anyone is still reading...

...then I love you. And you must love me. You must, to still be checking this blog even though I have left you in the lurch so many times. The truth of the matter is--or the paradox of the matter is--that I haven't felt like there was much to merit a post, and yet I have been so busy that there's no time to post anyway. You know...busy cleaning and playing and cooking and cleaning and playing and cooking. And then when the babies go to bed and I finish the last round of cleaning, I drag myself, bit by exhausted bit, up the stairs and into bed. Thirty seconds later, E wakes up and I go lay down with her and get her back to sleep. Stumble back to bed. Then J wakes up. Go get him, feed him, stumble back to bed. E wakes up again, because in her sleep she has inadvertently pushed off the humongous stuffed elephant I've crammed next to her to fool her half-conscious self into thinking that I'm still lying next to her. Go lie back down with her. Stumble back to bed. Finally make it to morning to do it all again.

I'm tired. You get my drift.

And yet, every morning I am excited to go get them from their rooms and start another day. And every morning I wonder that I can still feel like this. As bone-achingly tired as I am, I find that I would rather get up and see them than roll over and go back to sleep.

I didn't sit down to write a cheesy post about how much I love my children or wax sentimental about my day-in--and-day-outs, but I think it's a small testimony that should be recorded about God's mercies that are "new every morning." I read that passage in a new light now. But isn't that just it about God? You can never come to the end of Him. You can never figure Him all out. When He starts to fit into a box--any box--I know it's time for me to rethink things.

Just some thoughts on a Thursday night. I'll get around to those home-y, recipe-y things I promised eventually. Maybe, just maybe, I'll break 5 posts in October. Maybe that's a bit ambitious. Maybe neither child will wake up tonight. Hmm.... Anyway, until then, here's to the cool side of my pillow and a new morning that'll be here before I know it.

Good night.

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Have you watched the YouTube video I linked at the end of the previous post? Because if you haven't, you should. It will further your sanctification process. Seriously.

Also.

I would like to state officially that I am a self-diagnosed Peak-Too-Sooner. I am denying myself the pleasure of listing all the many, many, many things I love about fall because every year I get all hyped up at the first drop in temperature and all the lovely emotions that fall conjures up in me are spent by the middle of October. So I am resolutely against talking about crisp air, fire smells, scarves, jackets, or pumpkin anything until at least the end of this month.

We'll see how long that lasts.

Meanwhile, there's a deep dark place inside my soul where Little Girl Rachel is giddily jumping up and down and squeaking excitedly about closed-toed flats, football games, and autumnish things.

Wow, that didn't last long at all.

Don't even get me started on Christmas....

The Shack.

A summer reading list update was woefully overdue, so I obliged. As you can see, I'm reading The Shack by Wm. Paul Young. (Not sure what "Wm." is. William? A title of some sort? Can anyone help me on this?) I was cynical at best about it at first, but both my parents read it and loved it and have been on me to read it ever since. So I am.

Before I finish it though I thought I'd see what you had to say. Anyone read it? Anyone like it? Anyone hate it? I'll reserve my opinion until I actually finish it.

And the other book, the C.S. Lewis and the Catholic Church one? That's another parent (in-law) suggestion, and a whole other story/blog post. It's interesting and provoking and convicting, as most things are that are connected to C.S. Lewis.

While we're on the subject, let me just say this: I've tried not to have favorite authors. I've tried to be broadly-read. I've tried to give other people a chance. But I just can't help it. I love him and I love everything he writes. He's the favorite I've tried hard not to have.

Sterotype me at will.