Happy Birthday, Baby Girl!

What a difference 6 months makes!

(The day we met in Ethiopia)

Sunflower, thank you for teaching us about perseverance, God's timing, the fun of all things girlie, exceeding expectations and funny faces.

(1st snow last week)

We love you!  Happy 1st Birthday!!!

Tim home, snow and a new president. What a day!

Simple Woman's Daybook

I've read many Simple Woman's Daybooks but have never done one.  This woman's blog is very peaceful and in need of some peace, I'm doing my own daybook today.  Feel free to do your own by following the directions on her site: The Simple Woman's Daybook.

For Today...January 12, 2009

Outside My Window...The sky is icy blue and the trees are barren.  A horse neighs occasionally; otherwise, it is quiet.

I am thinking...about how best to spend my time.  How much to give to the kids vs. my own pursuits, and are those two even separate at all?
I am thankful for...my marriage and the opportunities it affords me.
From the learning rooms...The kids are at school.  A brick and mortar building outside of the home, and I often feel terribly guilty about this.  It's a private Christian school and only part time, but I still wonder if I'm doing right by them by sending them out of the home for education. Would I be doing right by me by keeping them home? The music room is quiet though, and has been too quite for too long.
From the kitchen...babbling baby eating a banana.
I am wearing...a black hoodie and pajama pants.  It's twenty degrees today.
I am creating...a short story, set in the southeast region of the Unites States about two elderly widows and their brush with the magical.
I am going...to put the baby down for a nap and continue writing until time to get the boys from school
I am reading...Love, by Toni Morrison in an attempt to overcome my frustration with her writing.  I'm still frustrated, and she's a Nobel Prize recipient.  Who's to blame?
I am hoping...and praying that the missions ministry I began with a friend at church takes off.
I am hearing...a baby bang on her highchair.
Around the house...a naked Christmas tree, waiting for Tim to get home and take it apart; stacks of Psychology textbooks as Tim gets ready to begin his doctorate; piles of folded laundry waiting for me to put away; comfortable, lived-in clutter, not dirty.
One of my favorite things...the extra-hot Peppermint Mocha in my hands.
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week...occupational therapy, speech therapy, breakfast with a girlfriend, gymnastics, writing, reading, and music lessons.
Here is a picture thought I am sharing:
Ice, football, and Dad to recover from a bump on the head.

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Merry Christmas

Sleepy babies after holiday parties

The boys sang, "We Three Kings" at their Christmas program, so now they call all bright stars, "Star of Wonder."  Here's Sunflower putting her first "Star of Wonder" on her first Christmas tree.

They have the nervous bite-my-lower-lip look going on, except Sunflower.  She's just saying, "Who in the world are YOU?"  But they all three made it on the jolly old guy's lap which is quite an accomplishment!

We're off for holiday travels, so MERRY CHRISTMAS to you and yours, and HAPPY NEW YEAR TOO!

The race to the big red bow

We are in the final stretch now of preschool Christmas parties, fundraisers and performances; occupational and speech therapist end-of-year eval.'s and gift giving; Christmas card addressing and gift buying; baking for three teachers, four OT and speech therapists, and Sunday school teachers; laundry, lists, and packing for travel; dog kennel vet visits, re-assuring the boys that even though WE don't have a chimney, Papa DOES, so Santa will in fact be able to get to them; keeping one drawer stocked of clothes that fit this rapidly growing baby; wiping the nose of whoever has the rotating cold this week (yay, me!  What a week to get sick!); work parties, Santa photos, and explaining to the children for the millionth time, "We do all of this for Jesus' birthday.  On Jesus' birthday, the world has a BIG party, and we call it Christmas."  Whew!  And what a party it is to plan for!!!  Here's to hoping you and yours have/take time to offer a bit of yourself to Christ this season as we all so hectically prepare for the big day.

She laughs when she sneezes,

and we all laugh with her.  Awesome.

A Thanksgiving to God for His House by Robert Herrick

Lord, Thou hast given me a cell 
Wherein to dwell; 
An little house, whose humble roof 
Is weather-proof; 
Under the spars of which I lie 
Both soft and dry; 
Where Thou my chamber for to ward 
Hast set a guard 
Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep 
Me, while I sleep. 
Low is my porch as is my fate, 
Both void of state;
And yet the threshold of my door 
Is worn by'th' poor, 
Who thither come, and freely get 
Good words, or meat; 
Like as my parlour, so my hall 
And kitchen's small; 
A little butterie and therein 
A little bin, 
Which keeps my little loaf of bread 
Unchipp'd, unflay'd; 
Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar 
Make me a fire, 
Close by whose living coal I sit, 
And glow like it. 
Lord, I confess too, when I dine, 
The pulse is Thine,
And all those other bits that be 
There plac'd by Thee; 
The worts, the purslain, and the mess 
Of water-cress, 
Which of Thy kindness Thou hast sent; 
And my content 
Makes those, and my beloved beet, 
To be more sweet. 
'Tis Thou that crown'st my glitt'ring hearth 
With guiltless mirth; 
And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink, 
Spic'd to the brink. 
Lord, 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand 
That soils my land; 
And giv'st me, for my bushel sown, 
Twice ten for one; 
Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay 
Her egg each day; 
Besides my healthful ewes to bear 
Me twins each year; 
The while the conduits of my kine 
Run cream (for wine.) 
All these, and better Thou dost send 
Me, to this end, 
That I should render, for my part, 
A thankful heart, 
Which, fir'd with incense, I resign 
As wholly Thine; 
But the acceptance, that must be, 
My Christ, by Thee.

P.S. 

C.'s favorite part of Thanksgiving was chewing on the bones.  Who knew cartilage could be so tasty???  And Sunflower started crawling two days ago.  We're overjoyed at her great accomplishment...and with how much more complicated life is now for us! :)

What am I most thankful for this year?

The opportunity to be a home maker.

I heard an NPR interview about Michelle Obama's decision to dedicate the first year in office to helping her daughters transition.  She put her profession on hold, and will join the ranks with the rest of us homemakers.  Four women were on the interview panel, and they all had very opposing opinions about this decision.  One woman went so far to say that her decision was a disgrace to her race.  "Black women work," she said.  "Staying at home with children is something that white women do."

That may be how it has been: minorities in the workplace and white women at home, but I don't believe it was by choice in the majority of the cases.  And given the opportunity, I'm sure many minority women would seize the opportunity to WORK at home.  Thankfully, our nation's socio-economic canvas is being painted with a variety of colors in the background and foreground now, and I don't think staying at home is a race issue; it's an economic one.

It's also a personality issue.  When I think of twenty of my closest friends, of a mix of races, who have higher ed. degrees, a career, and are in a position to not HAVE to work, I'm one of very few who have chosen to stay home.  Several tried it for an extended period after their children were born, but somewhere they lost part of themselves in it, didn't gain excessive purpose through it. 

They went back to their careers and took some heat for it by those who believe women should always stay home.  I stayed home and haven taken some heat for "not using my gifts and contributing them to the world."  In my view, and that's really the only one that matters here since it's my decision, I'd rather use my gifts to put these three out in top form so that their children have a better chance, and their children, and their children... What greater purpose is there than to directly affect the world for an eternity of generations???

That said, I'm not your typical home maker.  See? I even have a preferred term, and it is NOT House Wife or Stay at Home Mom.  I'm more than just a wife, more than just a mom.  My job here is to make a home.  That includes cleaning, cooking, child-rearing, repairing, and a plethora of other pleasantries to make this box of brick feel like a home for these five people-a place of refuge, comfort and security where needs are met and the heart is calmed.  That's not easy, especially when my bad mood leaves them running off to the bowling alley to get out of the tumultuous vibe of the "home"!  But hey-we all have bad days, right?

It's more than the title though.  I can only sit and talk with other housewives about car seats, casseroles and HGTV for so long. I've ridden around in cabs, horsecarts, cyclos and tuk-tuks with babies in my lap in the far corners of the earth, so researching which American car seat is the safest is just beyond me.  This is as far as my interest there goes:  "Are you buckled?" "Good-let's go."  I can't remember the last time I watched HGTV; I buy whatever baby food is cheapest, organic or not; I have no idea where my kids fall on the height/weight percentile charts other than knowing one is really small, one is really big, and one is too young yet to tell; and I certainly don't know how many teeth they're supposed to have, let alone how many they do have.  Except Sunflower.  She has three, but that's easy.  I mean really-what are the odds that my kids would have five extra teeth?  Teeth come in; I don't see the need to stick my fingers in that death trap and count them.

What I do know is that I have a Literary Journal deadline in six days, so nap time is spent writing short fiction.  I know that I have a goal to get a Friends Speak ministry up and running at church by Valentine's Day, and much is left undone there.  I didn't flinch when C.'s preschool teacher told me he didn't know his colors yet, but spent ten minutes making sure that his behavior was kind and respectful.  Again-I know that EVENTUALLY, he'll know red from green. Though he may not always remember to say, "Yes, Ma'am", share and touch gently.  My laundry is never done, and the windows have dog paw prints all over them.  Oh well.  My dishes are done, it's vaccuumed, and more than sanitary.  Arguably too sanitary.  Afterall, this is America, and I have a an assortment of disinfectants under my sink preventing my children from building up immunities to anything.  And the one child that has been in my care since birth has severe allergies and asthma.  Did I do that with my obsessive 409-ing and floor mopping?  Who knows.  I definitely am not that homemaker who brings hand sanitizer to the playground, though!

In conclusion, I can't think of another job I would rather have right now than the non-traditional home maker that I am.  There is no greater purpose to me than to raise up these three children in the fear of the Lord to be His servants and productive global citizens.  I love having dinner for Tim when he gets home and knowing everything about my kids.  I know J. and C.'s inside jokes; I know C. hates mac and cheese; J. loves it.  I know the difference between Sunflower's hungry cry and her lonely cry.  I know that C. acts up when his day is unstructured, J. acts up when he needs attention.  I know every freckle on their bodies, and I wouldn't want it any other way.  

Other perks of the job: every other Tuesday, I don't have to get dressed...all day if I don't want to.  I can do adoption presentations at the preschool on Welcome Home Days.  I have an hour and a half or so each day (nap time) to pursue artistic interests, and I have time to stay well-read.  

There may come a time when I go back to work.  I'm looking at MA programs now actually to accompany that possibility.  But for now, there is no better job in the world, and the opportunity to do it is what I am MOST thankful for this year.  And you?  What are you most thankful for?

Very belated Halloween pics

This isn't a Sunflower pic from Halloweeen, but she didn't dress up or go trick-or-treating, and what's a post of the kids without all three kids, so... isn't she cute!?

Here's C. being knighted in our very hectic and messy living room before Trick-or-Treating.  He loved the idea of being a knight to take care of princesses like his little sister.

Arg!  J. would rather be a money stealing, treasure hiding, rogue of the open sea.
(By they way, Dollar Tree is my favorite store.  Both costumes: $6.)

But big castles, jousting, eye patches and talking parrots aside, all that really mattered was that they both got a sword.  Boys will be boys!

The duel you didn't read about in history books:

Holiday pictures...

There isn't much more to say than this, is there? She cracks us up!  And yes, there was a huge shout that came with that pose.  She is not a small personality! :)  It'll blow up if you click it and want the full effect.

We did get some great ones though-as if this one isn't great- but, you know, more...traditional ones, and they will be posted after Christmas cards are mailed out.  

And since Veteran's Day makes me think of my Timmy, who makes me think of weddings and love and whatnot, here's something old, new, borrowed and blue for the week:

Old:  The old standard "Jingle Bells" sounds best when played on the cello by J. pizzicato style and very, very legato.

New: A Ginger snap latte is the same thing as a Gingerbread Bread latte.  Why change the name and confuse people after all these years??? 

Borrowed: Kim Edwards' short story collection, "Secrets of the Fire King"-that I borrowed from the used book store-is fabulous!  

Blue: A little bittersweet, actually.  When C. was an infant, and I was worried he'd fall prey to SIDS because of his high risk for it, I slept each night with my hand on his back. As long as his back softly rose and fell in tempo we both slept well.  Well, his asthma has been so bad lately that I've taken to doing the same thing again.  This time though, his coughing is so intense we're both up, but when he does fall asleep with a nebulizer mask attached to his face, my hand is on him to make sure his breathing is normal.  This wasn't a memory I really wanted to repeat, but I'm fully aware that his disabilities could be far worse, so I'm treasuring the time when my youngest son wants his mommy to take care of him.

Beyond politics

How precious it is to be able to say to you, sweet boy, "You can be ANYTHING God made you to be," and really, really, stare into your soul and pinch your cheeks, really, REALLY... mean it. Yes, you can.

Revelations over Caramel Apples on a Cool Autumn Night

These things are harder to stab than they appear!

One is never enough.  Bobbing for caramels seems like a much better idea!

A very good Cambodian friend of mine, Sokha, was killed this week in a traffic accident.  She was a spiritual powerhouse, teaching other women, mothering 22 orphan children, raising her three children in the Lord, teaching Sunday school classes, a spiritual light in a very dark community. Her death left a huge void, not just in my heart, but in the lives of so many.  I've struggled for more than twenty four hours now with "What good can come of this?  How could God allow this to happen?"  I don't usually have that struggle in the wake of death.  I've experience a lot of death too, seen a lot of horrible things in the world: babies that starved to death, landmine victims, held women whose husbands washed away in a cyclone, moms dying of AIDS searching for homes for their children, and on and on and on. Even if it's the death of a child, or a long bout with cancer, I always quickly see God's goodness shining through the tragedy.  Not that God causes the tragedy, necessarily, but that he can make good bloom out of anything.  But with this?  Twice orphaned orphans? Motherless children?  One of the lone spiritual lights in a Buddhist village snuffed out?  For the first time, I thought surely evil would triumph over good in this case, and how could God let that happen?  

Then a good mutual friend of mine and Sokha's emailed me and said, "Who are we but children of God?" That set me back exactly to where I needed to be.  Thanks Marie-Claire.  You see, when I lived in Cambodia with Marie-Claire, before children, I spent hours a day in the Word and in prayer. HOURS a DAY. Somedays all night too.  12-20 HOURS a DAY weeping, praying and meditating over the Word. The spiritual plane that put me on is indescribable-think nuns in secluded monasteries, but also serving the lost and least of these everyday, putting the Word into action with every other breath of the day.  Things are clearer up there, to say the least. That's not the case for all missionaries, I know, but it was for me.

Then I move back to suburban America, have three children, do laundry, go to speech therapy, preschool, Dr. appointments, etc...and I steal a  few MINUTES a day with God.  I didn't realize what this had done to my spiritual health until Marie-Claire emailed me with her perspective, the perspective of one blessed to still be living a life with hours a day in the Word.  

Yes, I know raising children is a mission field, and no I'm not complaining about my life.  I am saying that to get the time with God that I need in this life however takes a carving knife.  It doesn't come easily, but it must be done lest my mind transform further in the wrong direction.  

So, I spent nap time today reading 1 Peter.  The dishes aren't done, the laundry needs to be switched, and J. didn't get his cello lesson, but oh well.  First things first, right? 

 It said [emphasis mine], 

6Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you at the proper time,

 7casting all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you.

 9But resist him [the devil], firm in your faith, knowing that the same experiences of suffering are being accomplished by your brethren who are in the world.

 10After you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself perfect, confirm, strengthen and establish you.

I repented of my pride, and saw the great HOPE available to Sokha's husband and children through this tragedy. They will be brought up from their humble state by a God who cares for them.  They will then be made perfect, strong, and established. And Sokha gets to live in Heaven in the meantime? Huh. The paralyzing grief is subsiding and hope of a new day is shining through. To be a perfected, strong and established Christian only leads to better things in the spiritual realms than anything I could have imagined yesterday.

Pride is a horrible thing.  

As a result of her death, the whole Cambodian village may hate and mock Jesus even more now than they did before her death. Sokha's daughter's faith may be delayed (she's only 8).  Evangelically, this may appear to be a loss for the good guys, but as long as none of us in the Lord lose our faith over this, we will be brought up stronger than before.  My vision wasn't where God's was, so I was calling Him foolish.  "Don't you see what this will to do the lost?" I asked God. "It'll push them further away from you!  This is BAD strategy!" I told Him as if the strategy is mine to know, or as if I can even see the whole field from where I'm sitting... I spent so much time focused on the likely hampered evangelism to those in darkness now who are effected by her death that I lost sight of discipling those who are in Christ now who are struggling over her death, and it's to them that there is a great promise written in this tragedy.   

We often don't struggle enough here in our custom kitchens with our healthy children making caramel apples.  A great missionary I grew up with, Stanley Shipp, once said that he wished a great calamity would fall upon America so that more people would seek Christ.  Well that's a theological quagmire I don't want to muck around in right now, but certainly when troubles do come, if we hold to God's unchanging Hand, we are stronger in the end.  We're reminded to hold our kids a little tighter, and make one or two more caramel apples, and know that for those suffering here and overseas, there is a greater Hand, an immeasurable Hope of perfection, and an everlasting, sustaining Love that will meet them and establish them on higher ground when bad things sometimes just happen to very, very, very good people.

I love you, Sokha, and I will miss you so much!  Thank you for the lessons you've taught me in life and death.

When did this happen?

This is what happens when you blink.  I love the boy he's become, but I miss my baby boys!

Fun at the park!

Here in the land of the pines...

...the wonders of Autumn aren't displayed in the ocher, saffron, rust, and mustard of leaves, but in fields of white.  True, it isn't a rice paddy on the margin of a floating Thai market abloom with white lotus, but it is beautiful in a iconic American South sort of way, don't you think?  It's so beautiful I almost swerved off the road looking at this nearly ripe field yesterday!

There are fields of green pods with hesitant white puffs peeking out, and fields breathing soft white clovers.  In "Birches", Frost compares ice-cycles on the trees to "the inner dome of Heaven" having fallen.  Cotton is similar in its heavenly glisten in the morning dew, but to me, the cotton field next door to our house more resembles lazy clouds that dropped to earth and whose little bits wanted to be by themselves for awhile.

In this part of the American South, Autumn is symbolized with ripe cotton, and it is everywhere right now.

The boys love to pick the puffs that fall out of the ball before the tractor scoops them up.  We talk about how soft it is, to be careful of the sharp seeds inside, and how cotton makes our clothes, blankets, and favorite teddy bears.

Sunflower loved it at first touch too!  And no, I haven't missed the allusion and irony of gently lifting a child out of tragedy in Africa, and bringing her to fields of cotton in the American South.  But how HOPEFUL, how representative it is of human progress, how tear-jerkingly promising it is that this African baby girl can grow to walk into an American cotton field, savor its beauty and soft grace, walk out of that field, and live free to dance and thrive and be herself in this amazing country.  All she knows, and all she will know for many years, is that cotton is soft and beautiful, so let's hold on to it for awhile.  It holds no ugly shadows of the past for her; it isn't a symbol to her of oppression, slavery, hate and segregation, so I let her joyfully have those moments with her something soft and beautiful that God made, and thank God that she has the opportunity to live them. 

Happy Autumn!