Pencil hair day

I have decided that I don't have bad hair days. I have pencil hair days.

As in: reading my Bible,
taking notes with my handy dandy pencil,
hair in my face,
lack of motivation to "do" my hair today -
voila: pencil hair.

No more bad hair days for me. It's pencil hair from here on out.
And isn't my Jay becoming quite the photographer? These shots are his creative work.

I'm allowing today to be some what lazy.

Not soap operas/bon bons lazy, but jammie pants/pencil hair, lazy.

The constant busy has been taking a bit of a toll. Getting up at 5:30 am has been awesome and one of the best steps of obedience that I have taken. You know, the whole obedience leading to freedom thing.

And this morning I felt the freedom to stay in bed until 7:30.

To intercept four little boys as they emerged from bedroom doors, sleepy eyed and messy haired, and snuggle them deep under my covers.

To stay in jammies, make a huge mess in french toast preparation, and giggle alot.

To leave the kitchen looking like this

And go outside looking like this

Because when the weather is *perfect*

And boys are growing up *way too fast*

And there are balls to throw

Treats to be had

Rules to be *broken*...

Weird springy things to put sidewalk chalk through

Books to be read (one guess who picked this one)

Kitties to be laid on (I swear these are some of the most tolerant cats I have ever seen! I guess life on this deck necessitates tolerance)

Well, when all of that is true, then it would just be wrong to ignore it and worry about stuff like messes.

Because this whole freedom thing- it's much less about getting things done, and so much more about putting first things first...

 ...And then finding the discipline to get the work done at the proper time.

The freedom to leave things undone to do the more important things, and then, the discipline to get around to doing those things which may not be our first choice. It all goes hand in hand.

I'm learning alot here! Welcome to our day!

The rhythm of summer

I thought that maybe it would be a slow dance. A switching of the drum beat which demanded we get out of bed at a certain time, hurry through breakfast and all of the morning festivities, preparing for school time. Ba-boom Get up! Ba-boom Eat quick! Ba-boom Get in the mom van! Well, a switching of the beat it is. Only, it is a dance of a different kind. One would think that by now I would just know. Why do I forget every year how constant the summer is? Four boys rising at 6:30 am and going strong until 8:00 pm. Thank the Lord for one good napper left.... We sway and twirl through our morning. It is a more relaxed cadence. No rushing, but still the beat to keep up with. A wrong move and the whole dance is thrown off. That leads to falls and awkward movements.  The beat sounds alot like,  "Mom, mom, mom, mom, Mooooomm!"                      "Mom, mom, mom, mom, Mooooomm!"


                    "Mom, mom, mom, mom, Mooooomm!"

My movements start out fairly smooth - fluid and effortless from years of practicing this waltz.

I'm a mom. I've got this.

And then around hour 6 I begin to stumble... I lose it.

What were my moves?

Where's the rhythm?

What dance?


Oh, and you should see me at hour 10.

No glamour.

No nimble and graceful movements.

None.


This is the point in my summers at which I am reminded that each step is choreographed, and not by me.

I need grace upon grace here.


Towards the end of our days I have moved through this pattern,

Food, food, food, more food. And then prepare a meal

Make them some food.

Clean up the kitchen, which has somehow turned into a certifiable disaster zone, just in time to ...make a meal.

Start to vacuum one room.

Break up an argument.

Make food.

Vacuum for 5 more minutes.

Go to the basement to throw in a load of clothes.

Run back upstairs to the sound of uproarious screaming.

Comfort baby, scold K, take some deep breaths, and try to patiently teach a lesson on sharing.

Grab the vacuum again.

Make some important phone calls.

Try, with desperate hand movements, to make the boys understand that quiet is essential while I am on the phone.

Apologize to phone call recipient for the loud.

Medicines, and lessons, kissing boo-boos, appointments, groceries.

Remember the washing machine hasn't yet been started.

Cuddle, read, giggle, play.

Edit, call, email, menu plan.

Lunch.

Insist on an hour of quiet after lunch.
Yes, You will be quiet.
Go back up. Go back up.
Yes, we are doing this.
We will do this all summer.
Only an hour.
DO. NOT. COME. BACK. DOWN.


Every now and then my partner swings me 'round as we glimpse one another and then twirl to out next location.

He dips into earlier mornings; work days that are full of summer projects, like re-doing classroom floors and fixing equipment. The movements of his day flow into homework, driving two littles to swimming lessons, yard work, and camper renovation.

The dance is not over. As dusk falls I glance at the dance floor. The vacuum is still out. Half of one floor is partially clean. My feet are sticking to the other part. Perhaps my dance moves would be aided with a little stickiness. It will help me not to slip. I have to smile.

Ahhh, this rhythm. Right when I think I finally have my movements memorized - something changes and everything is switched up on me. The ballet morphs into some wild group expression to Black Eyed Pea's.

"I've got a Feelin..."

Welcome to my summer dance, friends. Buckle up.


And as an aside to all of this, sometimes I get special little surprises dancing into my inbox. :)

Calling it sin

I have a pretty decent talent. It's called justifying sin and mentally making it so much less than it is.

This morning in my quiet time (glorious quiet at 6am, when I can actually hear myself think and then, maybe even put a few coherent thoughts together!) I knew that I just needed to listen.

To quiet my heart and listen to God. There is so much that goes on in my mind at all times. Even while I sleep actually. Which is weird. I keep having these dreams that I, a) have lost the lens cap on my camera and look everywhere for it, to no avail, b) am editing pictures and making them look worse and worse and worse, or c) my friends are telling me they hate me. :) Subconscious insecurities anyone? Geesh...

I totally digress.

Moving on.

On to what... Where was I?

Yes, quiet time. Listening to God. Sin.

So, after some prayer, I felt in my spirit that instead of starting with my daily Bible reading, I should sit down with pen and notebook and begin to list the things in my life that are "pet sins". Things that are comfortable to me, and that I try to pretend are not sin. You know the whole denial routine. Right? You know it right? Because if I'm the only one, I'm going to start continue having bad dreams.

It was brutal. And good.

I've been thinking alot about freedom lately. What it means to truly live a life free from any kind of bondage.  And I have come to the conclusion that in my life freedom looks very similar to what my picture of being constrained, limited, and confined used to look like.

I would venture to say that some of the memories I have of my childhood have legalism branded on them. Whether that brand has been placed there from truth or from years, bias, and subjective influence I do not know. What I know is that I went through a period of time where I was frustrated with rules.

With "have to's"

With "because I said so"

and

"That's just how we do it."

My mind was processing and saying, "I want to know why. I want a pure heart, but not on account of tradition, or to look good, or because of any scare tactics"

So for awhile, I was quite ready to throw off routines of discipline and any kind of rules that were "just because that's what we do."

So ready to be so done. These routines and traditions didn't have meaning to me.

I was NOT ready to throw off my relationship with Jesus. Quite the contrary. I wanted to explore that deeper. I wanted to know Him, really know Him.

Not by trying to please him with bold check marks on a checklist.

Not by living a life constrained by things that felt unnatural and forced.

I knew that the Christian life was supposed to be a life of freedom. I kept hearing about it. About deep rooted joy, and doing things motivated by love, not duty.


So that left me with the tight rope balance of trying to live this abundant and free life, while balking rules, disciplines, and perhaps even some of my heritage. And for awhile that spelled freedom to me.

I am so thankful for God's indulgent grace. Wow. Where would I be if He left me where I thought I wanted to go? As I explored who He was, I came to this point of beginning to embrace disciplines motivated by love. He led me down a path where my past and present collided into a beautiful way of life that is full of meaning for me. 

So, you are saying, what is all this about justifying sin and pretending sin isn't sin, if you are living this great victorious life now?

Ha! I said beginning to...


It is such a process.

I am so in the midst of change. Always evolving, always striving, always transcending.

So, this morning I got out my notebook and I wrote "bondage".

Under that word, which whispers of all things that hold me back, I wrote:

Approval - get it from God


Compulsive time wasting (excessive computer time, any kind of literature that does not spur me on to love Jesus more)  - stop!


Avoiding house work and the organization needed to run this household smoothly - Discipline to do the work God has given me with joy

...And there was more.

It hurt.

It really was quite a chiseling.

See, during my phase of trying to find freedom my own way, I would have balked at this process and said, "but I am free!! I can not be held to specific regulations and constraints. This will harm me."

But as I have stepped up and walked in obedience to some very specific things that God has asked me to pursue, or to stop, I have experienced the truest form of freedom ever to be lived.

It's a day in and day out thing. I have to be honest and say that yesterday I lived in some pretty blatant disobedience. I regressed to that whole faux freedom thing. The lie that if I remove discipline, I am removing enslavement. What a contradiction of truth!

And then I wondered why I was grumpy, why my house was a humongous mess, and why my kids didn't seem to like me very much.

Really Wendi? Really??? 

Ahh, if only I could remember that it is only in that deep abiding love, resulting in discipline, that true freedom is found.

Lived.

Exposed. 

Contagious!


It is love and duty.

Duty just happens when love is authentic and abundant.

Photo favorites... Saturday

...Just a few hours late here. :) I was too busy partying at a fabulous wedding yesterday to post some photo favorites, but I still want to post some today. I snapped these sweet images this morning. My heart is aching and rejoicing simultaneously over how grown and beautiful this kid is. Oh my. Just look.

My fingers almost feel sticky on the keys on account of the sweetness on the screen... Excuse me while I go smoother him in kisses.

My husband rocks

In my 30 years of life I have observed a variety of different men. Some, like my dad and brothers, I have known well. Some I have perceived from a distance. Many earned my respect, some were less than stellar.

I am humbled and amazed at the goodness of God when I consider this fact: of all the men I have known, the one who stands out the most to me as a man of God and a man of integrity happens to be the man that I get to spend the rest of my life with. 

My admiration of this man has grown into something completely independent of his connection to me, legal or otherwise. He has gained my deep rooted trust, respect, and appreciation simply by living his life and being the man he was created to be.

If David were just a man that I knew; someone to whom I was acquainted with in a distant way, I believe that I would still have a very high regard for him. Aside from any emotional and intimate attachment – this is a good man. This is a man worthy of honor. Someone that would get my nod of approval and eyebrows raised in a *pause* “he’s different, I’m taking note” type of a way.

I sense that this is the point at which a word may begin to rattle around in a few readers minds.

*Phony*

“This is a blog. This is a venue where anyone can claim any number of beautiful things.”

Yes, I get this. I have even thought along these exact lines before as I have read some just-too-good-to-be-true, "real life accounts”.  So, of course I can not prove my authenticity here, but I hope that I have been transparent enough through my writings, that you know I am not simply trying to paint a rosy picture of the Every Day Miracles family through motives of pride or any other vain thought.

Could I list David’s faults here?  Why yes, I could. Not many know him as I do. I am well aware of his humanness. Sometimes our fleshly imperfections merge in a mess of conflict. I know he’s not perfect.

I also know that God has gifted me greatly in allowing me to be married to this man. I am resolute in not becoming apathetic or taking this blessing for granted. Through our every day life, menial tasks, difficulty in this training-many-little-ones phase of life, distractions, selfishness, and just plain busyness, it is important that I take the time to recognize how deeply my life has been blessed by David.

Through the 11 years that I have known him I have come to see where his great strength lies. 

Listen up, it is not in physical strength, or incredible intelligence. It is not in a super human discipline. 

This is what I have discovered about the strength of my husband: It is in admitting weakness and relying wholly on the strength of the One who perfectly created every bit of his now flawed humanity.

Indeed, this is the greatest masculine strength I have ever seen.

I have watched him grieve to the point of transformed character as we watched our first born lose the battle for his life here on earth. Yet, as I continued kicking and screaming and wondering WHY? I was awed by this dignified acceptance that he modeled for me.  Slowly my heart came around to see the truth and the right in simply looking into the face of God and saying, “You give and take away, you give and take away, my heart will CHOOSE to say, Lord blessed be your name.” David showed me how to do that, because he did it first.

I have watched him become a fully engaged daddy to one very sick, very little boy. I watched him lay down his preconceived ideals of what fatherhood was going to look like, reach down and gently hold the hand of a severely brain damaged little boy, and say, “hey little buddy, I am your daddy, and I am going to love you with every thing that I have to offer."

I have watched him become a daddy again…

…and again…

…and again… (hey, we like makin’ babies okay?!)

And every single time, I have been awed by this mix of untainted gentle love and strong masculinity.

This Father’s day we will, of course, be thanking the Lord for the Dads that he has blessed both David and I with. Our fathers have guided us through our most vulnerable years, and we are very thankful.

In addition to that train of thought, I am profoundly aware, and intensely grateful, that my precious boys have something beyond any measure of value.

My boys have a daddy who daily exemplifies what it means to trust God and love others. They have great security and are surrounded by this environment that constantly esteems them and gives them purpose.

I have always held fast to the belief that Dads hold the key to so much in a child’s development and identity. No greater gift could be given to me then to see my children esteemed by their loving father, as he follows his Father!

Happy almost Father’s day David. I love you.

This post is being submitted to the My Husband Rocks writing contest

When life gets rough, go to the zoo - and other life lessons that I just made up

Our weekend was bad.

And yet it was just filled with love and laughter. Because we have a big God and a good God. And some times, really, you just have to laugh.

Things kicked off on Friday with a doctor appointment that confirmed our suspicions that Jay will need his first surgery. Ear tubes, tonsillectomy, and adenoids out. Not a real significant surgery, but he is my kid, has had no surgeries, and I am not jumping up and down excited about it.

Next was the camper. Ohhhh the camper...

We have totally outgrown our pop up camper. Believe me, when you try to stick 6 people and all of the needed "stuff" for a vacation in a pop up camper that you have outgrown - home sounds better and better and vacation no longer fulfills its definition.

So, we started looking. And shopping. And getting excited, since we leave in less than a month for a very anticipated week long vacation. We thought we found "the one".  It sold before we got to it. We found another one. It was pouring down rain when we went to look at it, so we weren't able to do a real thorough check of everything. On the outset though, it looked great. In reality... not so much. What we didn't know, and we are pretty convinced that the sellers did not know either, is that this "great" travel trailer had a leak, and water damage under the carpet. As it ends up, alot of water damage under the carpet.

Saturday morning we wake up to K experiencing a painful migraine. As we tend to him, we deal with the disappointment of having bought a "project" (and ya'll know how much we needed another project right now...). We process all that planning another surgery entails. And then... our cat dies.

I know, right?

We have alot of cats that roam around our place. We have a big ol' farm, so they kind of come and go as they please. We aren't really the type to spend alot of $ on these cats. Often the males end up going off on their own eventually anyway. BUT, we made an exception with one of our cats, because she had kittens. She was having some health issues...that were pretty obvious. I'll spare you the details. She had surgery last week. We paid. The issues came back Saturday morning. We called the vet. It became apparent that all that could be done had been done.

So, she was put down.

All of this happened in like, a twelve hour time period.

So we threw our hands in the air, tried to laugh through our tears,
left the house,
the cats,
the schedule,
and the camper...

And we went to the zoo.

We laughed.
We held tightly to one another.
We had the privilege of petting two humongous snakes.
We fed giraffes.

...And we truly counted it a gift that we have each other; a family intact and in love.

That's worth more than I can even begin to articulate right now.

The imprint that this past weekend has left in my heart is not a dwindling back account with not alot to show for it.

It is not a dead cat.

It isn't migraines and surgeries.


It is the love that surrounded us.

It is the way that God surprised us with glimpses of hope in the midst of alot of yuck.

It is little boys who say, "we still have kittens!" in response to our "family talk".

It is a husband who takes my face in his hands and looks past the tears, into my eyes. He felt disappointment most keenly about our less than perfect purchase, but then he pulled his shoulders back, put his chin up, and made a plan to seal and renovate our camper. You better believe that little traveling home of ours is going to be beautiful and enjoyed over and over after we finish!

It is an imprint of not allowing circumstances to dictate our disposition.

I can't lie, there is still "stuff" that we are working through as this new week starts, but the smiles are intact. And for that I am thankful. So very, very thankful.

Photo Favorites Friday

Hey, I remembered! ;) I got distracted last week, but here it is this week.

A few of my favorites from photo shoots I have done in the last week and a half:

So, as you can plainly see, I haven't been having any fun at all.  ;)

Almost a first grader...

Today I went to one of his end of year parties.

I looked at the boy who, at the beginning of this kindergarten year, would not even step into the building if he wasn't holding tightly to my hand. I would walk him down the hallway, turn the corner, and hold his hand as we walked all the way to the end of the second hallway, to his kindergarten class.

It was all so unfamiliar. He was so used to being home with me. He only knew one other kid in his class...

Now he has a room full of chums.

He laughed when I asked if I could hold his hand one day last week when I walked in with him for a change.

Yes, he's growing. In alot of ways.

I remember the tears of one so young, facing so much new...

And now there are smiles, laughter, and spins, and twirls. No tears. Not at all.

My heart twists and turns with each move he makes. Because so much of my heart is him.

And he is changing.

He's reaching for new things. Great things and big things.

Oh how I love him.

I love him when he struggles to distinguish "b's" from "d's", and I love him when he figures out 4+5.

I love his laughter and grins.

I love the way he pretends.

I love him when he gets angry and stomps around the house.

I love to see the softening within him as he feels repentant and learns about a clear conscience.

I love the big brother he is becoming and the love he gives all of his brothers.

This guy thinks his brother Jay is pretty awesome too. He was pretty sure that he was one of the class today. I didn't have the heart to tell him he wasn't. So we pretended that he was. ;) He pretty much fit right in.

So as we wrap up his first year of school, we remember all of the growth and maturity that has taken place.

We feel great gratitude towards Mrs. B - who pushed him to be more than he thought he could be.

(There are some people who teach because they need a job. Then there are those who teach because it is in their blood; it is who they were born to be. This is our second year with a child in Mrs. B's kindergarten class and it is evident to us that she is the latter.)

We remember fun times, and birthday parties, and challenges, and learning about making friends, losing friends, always being kind...

We look at this little boy who God has gifted our family with and we see a very different boy than we did at the beginning of September.

I am so proud of him. My heart feels bursty happy and soft and breaky all at once.

Love you Jay! Quite alot.

 

Hodge podge

If some body would have told me, even as recently as a couple of months ago, that I was going to photograph a graduation ceremony and a wedding within a couple of hours of each other on a Saturday, I would have laughed. Alot. Like in-your-face-incessant-kind-of-laughing.Alot of insecurity would have been behind that laughter.

But I did it, and I loved it, it was amazing practice for me, and I am learning so much!


Noe never stops talking. I've made that statement already a time or two. Some times I have to tune it out, just to be able to think and concentrate (stay sane, get anything done), but often I will force myself to just slow down, look him in the eye, and listen. When he really isn't making any sense whatsoever, I kindly tell him so. But this kid never ceases to come up with some of the most hilarious stuff I have ever heard! For instance, Dave was trying to teach him about making jokes. Jay and Noe are both in a stage of wanting to tell jokes (alot) and the ones they come up with are so not funny. They look up expectantly like, "why aren't you laughing? I just said, why did the lettuce cross the road? - To go make a salad! Isn't that the funniest thing you have ever heard in you LIFE?" -Needs a little work, ya'know? So Dave was sitting on the floor with Noe, helping him get his shoes on one day as they were discussing jokes. Dave said, "Here's one; What has a tongue, a sole, but can't talk?"

So, of course, without missing a beat Noe immediately pipes up, "A person that lost his voice!" Yep.

Again, in true Noe form, he had me rolling on the floor this past weekend when we were discussing wedding related things. Dave was in a wedding on Friday, so there was much to discuss. Eventually the convo came around to the honeymoon. Noe pauses and sighs, "Mom... why do they call it a honeymoon? There is NO honey and they are not going to the moon!" Love that kid so much!!

Speaking of the wedding - it is only cute for a one year old to stand on his mothers lap, look towards the front of the church, point a chubby little finger and yell "Da-daaaaaa!!! Hi dadaaaaaa!", during a wedding ceremony once. All of the other times he does it though? It begins to get on peoples nerves and disrupt the whole sacred occasion thing. It's a good thing he is so cute. In other news, it ends up that my man is still considerably, abundantly handsome in a tux.

We had a very short, yet very powerful storm here a week ago. It came through fiercely with wind and driving rain, which impaired visibility completely. At one point I looked out our window and saw... nothing. Just wet gray. It lasted less than 10 minutes, but it stole our electricity. Thousands of people were without power. We had no electricity from Sunday afternoon until Tuesday morning. Let me tell you - this was a great reminder on thankfulness for me! I take so much for granted. Raising four boys and keeping up with the house and everything that needs to be done is not an easy task with out electricity. I had to keep telling myself the flip side of that. Raising four boys and keeping up with the house and everything that needs to be done is made so much simpler with electricity and the modern conveniences we have been blessed with! Don't take it for granted ever again! I must say, since it has been back on, I have been doing my tasks with a much more cheerful heart!

I am so proud of my husband for the way that he is following God in really stepping up to lead our family. For a few weeks now he has been getting up at 4:15 to pray and study his Bible. Since he had been getting up at 5:15, to be to work by 6, this was one of the only little windows in his day that he could feasibly do it. It has definitely built some more security in my heart, just knowing that he is leading this family based on listening and talking to God and getting guidance from him. Dave has always been a wonderful husband, daddy, and leader, but this intentional step he has taken has been a very big blessing for our entire family.

I stay in bed for about an hour past the time that Dave gets up. My alarm goes off at 5:30, and I have loved having an hour and a half of quiet to start my day. -Except of course the days when the boys decide that they want to get up early too, then my time is shortened, but I am learning to be flexible.

During my quiet time this morning I read 2 Samuel 25, and this one passage keeps ruminating in my  mind. Over and over. It's a story about how King David wanted to count all of his best soldiers, perhaps to give him some sense of security in the power of his army. Perhaps it was a move motivated by pride. Whatever it was, it seemed that during this counting, David's focus was on himself, his men, his power, and not God. It did not please God. Directly after he did it, he felt remorse. He repented and he knew that there would be consequences. He experienced those consequences, and then was commanded to build an alter to the Lord, at a particular place, pray to God, and seek true repentance. His heart was very humble at this point, and he wanted to do everything God had asked. He went and asked to buy the "threshing floor" which God had signified as the place to build this alter. The owner of said threshing floor wanted to just give it to the king, but David insisted on buying it. "But the king replied,"No, I insist on paying you for it. I will not sacrifice to the Lord my God burnt offerings that cost me nothing."

I am wowed by this. The reverence, the true repentance, the way he put himself aside and acted in utter obedience. I think that I will be spending alot of time on this passage, and learning new treasures of wisdom through it in the next few days, but today two things are continually on my heart:

1) I get very wrapped up in security. Earthly security. Like, counting money, seeing how much is in each account, making plans, and remaking plans, and going over these plans. Only, they are MY plans, and MY thoughts, and MY imagined security. I think that this is very often displeasing to God. Making plans and being wise is not wrong, but if your heart motives stem from self reliance, it's not good.

2) How often do I obey, but in the "easiest and laziest way". If I needed to build an alter on a threshing floor and the owner was going to just GIVE me the threshing floor, I would be saying' "Awesome! Now I can do what I was told and not be out any money! Celebrate!"

I lack that total and deep awe. That face to the floor humility that is so very pleasing to God.

Okay, that could have been a post of its own. I should probably go get something done now. I have about 400 pictures to edit, plus normal stuff like laundry, dishes, meal prep, and a suspiciously smelling one year old singing lullabies to me.