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Ten Joyful Things. (84)

I just love this time of year. With the sun shining and the temps warming up, there’s a lot to be upbeat about. Here’s a list of ten things (in no particular order) that are currently bringing me joy:

  1. Greenhouse visits. Who doesn’t love a sprawling greenhouse in the springtime? Buying new flowers to plant/pot/hang always makes me so happy. I love picking out a blend of new varieties I haven’t tried and standbys that feel like old friends.
  2. Iced lattes and hot tea. On cool mornings, a cup of tea is still my favorite, but now that I’m in my third trimester (and after no coffee of any kind for a loooooong time), I’ve allowed myself a few iced decaf oat milk lattes and they’ve been such a treat!
  3. Books on Kindle. Jason can finally say “I told you so,” here. I resisted the Kindle for the longest time in favor of hard copies of books. I’ll still always prefer the hard copy, but I have to admit that having a book on my Kindle means I read more often. Here’s to actually finishing books in 2021.
  4. Open windows. Goodness, it feels amazing to have the house open and a fresh breeze blowing through!
  5. Hearing our kiddos laugh. We watched a movie together tonight and H appreciated so many funny parts. C laughs at the drop of a hat and then makes himself laugh some more, and E’s laugh is completely contagious. Joyful noise is the very best kind.
  6. Church. Soaking in worship and teaching on Sunday mornings has been a lifeline for a long time, but I crave it especially these days. Having our kids sit with us is really a gift to my heart. It’s not always perfect, but interacting together in the pew each Sunday matters to me. I hope they’ll always think of church together as a family priority and value.
  7. Watching H play baseball. It just feels so right to be at ball games at this time of year, and watching H learn new aspects of the game makes my baseball-loving self awfully happy. As long as he enjoys it, I will, too.
  8. Seeing people’s faces. Wow, it just feels like way too long since being face to face with others was a regular occurrence. I think it’s been healing for all of our hearts to see smiles again. We’re just not wired to miss out on facial expressions and to have our minds working overtime to read eyes and eyebrows and figure out who’s who. For our kids especially, this feels so important.
  9. Having a food craving or clear appetite. My food tendencies have been so strange this pregnancy, and I rarely know what, if anything, sounds good to eat. When I have a specific craving or my appetite perks up, it’s so much easier (and more enjoyable) to prepare and eat food. I can’t say there’s one food I’ve wanted consistently throughout the past seven months–the only consistent thing has been that nothing sounds amazing. Being matter of fact about food is totally ok, but it’s really nice to be excited about it every once in a while.
  10. Organizing all the things. It seems like we have far to go before I’ll feel “ready” for baby and fully nested (is that even a thing?), but in general, my heavy inclination to nest and settle in these days means I’m always trying to tackle a different project. Checking things off of my list is so gratifying, and having the energy to accomplish something I’ve wanted to do for a while feels amazing. I don’t always have the energy for things beyond the daily necessities, but when I do, it’s so encouraging.

I feel like I could go on with more things tonight, but having ten to write about is pretty beautiful, too. I’m so appreciating this long weekend and the chance to enjoy many of the above…it’s truly a gift to be alive!

MM

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The Good Things in Life. (85)

I cried today saying goodbye to C’s three-school teachers. I might cry at more things than normal these days, but my tears weren’t pregnancy hormones talking. They were tears because in a year when so much hasn’t been normal, C’s school days were outdoors, mask-free, consistent, un-quarantined and really just beautiful. I have come to know and love the three amazing ladies who made every day of school special for him. Their attention to detail, their care for his heart and their love of nature made for so many adventures to share and memories to keep.

C was known in school. Not for some kind of reputation, but because of the intentionality of his environment and the hands that cared for him every day. Watching his confidence grow as he tackled new challenges, seeing his face light up when teachers greeted him each morning, hearing him retell about the new animal or seed or nest they’d discovered on daily hikes…it all added up to something that fed his soul this year. As his mama, it fed mine, too.

When I look back on the fall of last year, getting our feet wet with outdoor learning in the midst of a season where school in-person seemed in question most of the time for schools everywhere, I think about how healthy and normal it felt to have interactions with C’s teachers three mornings a week. Real people, face to face. We were all trudging through unknowns with our kiddos, whether for their first time in school or their senior year. Nothing felt (or was) a guarantee. I remember the camaraderie that came so quickly as we relished time to connect in person, everyone needing that interaction to feel sane.

As this experience for C and our family has come to a close, I’m filled with gratitude for what it was and for what we carry forward with us into what’s next. When I asked C’s teacher today why this all made me cry, she replied with tears of her own, “I think it’s because when you know to recognize the good things in life, you see how good they really were…and all that God did in it…It was just so good.”

It’s really true. There were things covered and protected this year that we couldn’t have imagined before God showed up. There were so many details that came together for this outdoor program to open–and so clearly in timing that wasn’t ours, but His. There were people in place with giant hearts who loved our kiddos with abandon, through months and months of cold winter outside, through gear changes and weather-dependent layers and snack time logistics and so many days of little ones learning how to summon their strength to power through the elements. One of the first verses C’s class learned together this year was “I can do ALL things through Christ who gives me strength.” The number of times I’ve heard him say that since are too many to count, and he believes it and knows it to be true because of the energy and love poured into him by others. What a gift!

I cried today because the good things in life aren’t things at all–they’re tiny deposits that add up to something so good, it’s hard to bid farewell to them. And I cried today because three-school was a place that felt normal all year in a world where little else has felt normal, and that was so, so valuable to our family. No matter where C ends up, I know he’ll remember parts of this school year and how they made him feel. I know we’ll see things in him for a long time to come that grew up out of his days outdoors with teachers and friends. I know he is stronger, more resilient, more worshipful and more confident because of this past year and every step out of his comfort zone and into something new. The good things in life are abundant.

As they say in outdoor school, “Bye, bye, butterfly. Can’t stay, bluejay. Gotta scoot, little newt! Hit the road, silly toad! Take care, black bear. See you soon, raccoon!”

MM

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State of the Union. (86)

It’s blustery outside tonight. The sound of the howling wind and rain combined is one I’d expect near the end of autumn. It feels much more like tea and slippers weather than Memorial Day Weekend fare, but we do live in the Midwest, where anything is possible until after the holiday. I’m so glad our plants aren’t in the ground yet, but I’m still hopeful we’ll be able to make some gardening headway over the long stretch of weekend ahead.

Goodness, we’re all ready for a long weekend. Tomorrow marks 28 weeks for baby, but the buzz around here is much more related to last days of school and field day than how far along we are on the baby countdown. I’ll admit that the last days of school make for a very exciting time, even if I’m still over here counting other things, too. It’s a beautiful time to celebrate all the good that’s taken place in another strange and unfamiliar year.

When we wake up tomorrow, C will be off to his last day of his first year in school. It’s threeschool, mind you, but his first foray out into the world without mom and dad. He’s come to love it, and to love particular elements of his school days that really suit his personality, energy and interests. It’s been really good for my heart to see him flourish elsewhere–not because I don’t love having him here, but because I think he’s really enjoyed having something that’s just his own. This is probably timely as God prepares C’s heart and mind to become a big brother. To watch him take ownership and be proud of his own thing feels like a very helpful step as we look to this next chapter. Tonight as we tucked kiddos in, C said, “I’m the best. Except for the baby, who’s the best.” Ha! You’ve got to love the uncompromised confidence that comes with being so young. I’ll empower that all the day long if I’m able.

Tomorrow also marks E’s last day of 1st grade, which means my last day of homeschooling for this year. This feels like a giant accomplishment for both of us, and perhaps this year more than others. It was a time for flexibility and change, for balancing the dynamics of two kiddos in school (but one of those part-time) and one at home every day without a program to supplement what we were learning here. I can’t get over how much E has matured and grown in this year of studying together. She has taken on so many responsibilities (some that we’ve asked of her and many on her own), and I’m so thankful for the front row seat as she becomes more of who God is creating her to be. She is dependable and responsible in a way that often takes me by surprise (though maybe it shouldn’t). Her sisterhood sandwiched between two brothers brings out a motherly bent that is beautiful to witness. I’m so delighted for her for the growth she’s shown this year–not only in school, but in life and music lessons and dance and as a sister. I know that God is preparing her for her new role as we welcome baby at the end of summer. She’s already such a help to me, and no doubt, she’ll dote on this little one with intentionality and gentleness.

H is gearing up for his last week of school, too, marking time with things like baseball games, a spring music performance, running his first race and planning on field day activities. He tried out instruments this week for the possibility of band next year, is gearing up for a week of overnight summer camp and is still devouring books as though his life depended on it. I can tell that he’s prepping his heart and mind to add another sibling to the mix, too, but mostly for the toll he knows parenting takes in those early days. Being a baby whisperer in his own right, he will welcome a new baby with great joy. I can’t wait to see him holding and loving on this little one with his tender heart and big brother spirit.

All in all, it feels like we’re just moving forward one day at a time as you do, but with thoughts of days ahead that we know to anticipate and that still seem a little out of reach. I’m loving this season of collaboratively celebrating what is to come while still being the family of five that we’ve grown accustomed to for so long. This coming weekend, being together and just doing normal family life will be what we all need…progress around the house and outside, for sure, but also just time to slow down a little and to welcome the change of seasons from the emotional side just as much as the physical one. I’m really grateful for all of the milestone moments that have happened here lately, and equally as grateful to think about entering into some days that have a different cadence about them.

Until then, there’s much to celebrate in our current state; the ending of things just as others are beginning feels right and good. And for now, it’s time to tuck in for the night and embrace the need for warmer blankets on the cusp of a season where we (I?) surely won’t need them. Rest well, all,

MM

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Metamorphosis. (87)

For the past few weeks, we’ve watched closely as five caterpillars have undergone the first few steps of their transformation into butterflies. They arrived in the mail and ate their way around a small container for a week or so, eventually shedding their last exoskeletons and attaching to the lid of the container to hang and form chrysalides. It’s been a little over a week since then, and today, three of the five butterflies emerged. All day they’ve been stretching and drying out their wings, completing the last bits of the transformation process to prepare for release.

Watching these seemingly helpless, infant-staged caterpillars evolve into beautiful butterflies feels a bit like a front row seat to pregnancy from a different vantage point. This baby growing inside is transforming right now in order to be ready to emerge into this world. The mystery of how this transpires is still so great to me. Something from nothing. Life from dust. I just can’t help but marvel at how God does this work, and somehow, the miracle is more surprising to me than it’s ever been. It doesn’t feel matter of fact to me at all; every day I wake up more amazed by what’s happening.

Seeing three butterflies alive and well in their butterfly house today has captivated everyone here. We keep checking on the remaining chrysalides with anticipation, admiring the butterflies that have already stretched their wings. Of course, the anticipation we all feel about meeting this little one in my belly is far greater, but the source of joy is the same–new life is captivating. Bearing witness to it is all grace.

E asked today how many more weeks we have to go until baby, and when I told her it was about twelve, she mentioned that that seemed pretty soon to her, even if she knew it sounded like a long time to me. And while twelve weeks does seem far away in some ways (and I love her for knowing that), it really seems like nothing when I consider than an entire human life is transforming in this span of time. In the same way that I can’t understand how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly in a matter of weeks, I can’t grasp the millions of details that fit into a nine and a half month process and result in a life we already love unconditionally–someone who is already part of the fabric of our family. To be a vessel in this undertaking is beyond my comprehension.

The song, “New Wine,” by Hillsong runs through my mind with frequency, and it is my fervent prayer:

In the crushing
In the pressing
You are making new wine
In the soil
I now surrender
You are breaking new ground

So I yield to You into Your careful hand
When I trust You I don’t need to understand

Make me Your vessel
Make me an offering
Make me whatever You want me to be
I came here with nothing
But all You have given me
Jesus bring new wine out of me…

Transforming is hard work, and God is illustrating to me in so many ways that He has always been in the business of transformation in our lives. I’m so thankful He sees it through and doesn’t give up on us mid-metamorphosis.

MM

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New Mercies in the Morning. (88)

Maybe my last post made this evident, but yesterday was a rough day. Looking back on it, I felt up against all kinds of spiritual things that sort of pummeled my morale all day long, and I went to bed both exhausted and resolute. There’s something about sensing that it’s a spiritual battle that gives me a kind of gusto for getting back at things the next day.

Then last night, my night’s sleep was short, and I didn’t necessarily expect that I’d wake up feeling upbeat. But grace flooded in, because my feet hit the ground with promises running through my head, and I felt like I had a new lease on things from the day before. It’s really true that God’s mercies are new every morning. As I drove H to school, that was the first thing I could think to pray…”Thank you, God, that your mercies are new again today and that we can experience them again.” I love that this isn’t as complicated as we might try to make it sometimes in our bent as humans. When we wake up, the promise is there. New mercies. They don’t run out or expire.

I’ve learned that I can walk in my own temporary truths, or I can press into the ones that are really there for me–the Word and what God has to offer to my spirit, even and especially when I’m feeling wrung out. When I can find my way through the hard or the voice in my head or the moment that left me discouraged, there is freedom waiting on the other side. How I ever lived without it, I’m not sure, but with God’s promises at hand I can expect a different result. Coming to rely on that has released so much consternation and striving over time.

Some things aren’t going to right themselves overnight. Certain battles feel harder won than others, or maybe not won at all. I can’t assume that I’ll wake up in the morning and the problems left behind from yesterday will have disappeared. What I do know, though, is that my capacity to handle things is greater after I’ve slept on them. Greater still, when I’ve released them to God before my eyes close on the day. I don’t feel called anymore to resolve everything as I once did. I only feel called to hand things to God and ask for help (or even to just acknowledge my limitations). When I do, I experience those mercies that only God can offer me, and I know more fully that He is there and willing to extend himself to me again and again.

This life is such a gift. Each day, a gift. When I feel like I’m missing it, I only have to wake up and trust for the blurred lines to become clearer.

MM