MollyMadonna.com

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Connecting the Dots. (45)

You could call my thought process these days something like, “stream of consciousness,” or maybe, “random all day long,” or even, “firehose,” perhaps. I guess it might depend on the hour, but all of these are probably accurate. I don’t remember my brain being quite this way with other pregnancies, but it’s really where I’m at, and it’s kind of an all or nothing situation daily. I’ve either got 1,000 thoughts vying for attention, or I’m blankly putting off all thinking for moments at a time, just trying to take a mental breath. When I’m firing on all cylinders, I could use a journalist or the like to record everything for me–there’s valuable information in there, and it’s all attempting to come out at once…reminders of to-dos (so many), things I want to do with the kids, items to tackle around the house, tasks I’d benefit from completing soon, how I hope to prepare for labor and delivery this time around. One, five minute lap around my mind could produce at least ten good lists, and I’d use them. So do I write everything down?

No. No I do not. And I could go either way on this one. I can either play into my perfectionistic personality and have a dozen lists wandering around with me everywhere, or I could try to be a little more laid back about it all and see where that takes me. So far, the second option is winning, but not necessarily with winning results–it’s just the avenue I’m taking because it’s probably what I have energy for right now. Even as I type, I’m thinking to myself, “Find the energy to make the lists. Figure it out.” Some nights this gig is for the sake of the baby, and some nights, I think this time of processing is for the sake of the baby in that it benefits my maternal health to process my thoughts by writing them down. So here we are with the same conclusion on all sides: Write it down, Molly. Write it all down.

If I were to make a list of lists (going for it), it would include: nursery to-dos, family logistics, paperwork, homeschool plans, July/August calendar details, things to procure for camp, freezer meals to make, work projects (and completion target dates), house projects that don’t involve the nursery, baby names, things to buy before baby arrives, things to unpack before baby arrives, items to sell on Marketplace, correspondence to take care of this week, errands, chores/allowance for each of the kids, a midway through summer/before baby gets here bucket list, birthday plans and prep for E, party plans for H’s belated celebration and something that covers all of of the details for the care of our kiddos when it’s baby time. Whew. Got it out there. I’m not even sure that’s all, but it’s the majority. So now that I have my list of lists, I’ll just need to add to each one until my brain feels sufficiently dumped out onto paper. That should be easy, right?

I know that the reason my thoughts are exhausting right now is because they all string together. In the same way that we’re playing a game of house Tetris to make a space for the baby in the right place here at home, all things connect in some way and lead from one into another. It’s hard to have an isolated thought about anything at all. So I jump from one thing to the next in my mind and later have a hard time sorting it all out. Surely this is just the stage of life I’m in, where young kiddos send trains of thought down whole new tracks about every two minutes, and I’m just trying to keep up with one idea while the next five are ready to leave the station (and all at once). This mushy brain thing is great practice for when sleep might be fleeting and there’s a new person in the house to love and care for around the clock. Oooooh, I can’t wait, truly! But I’m probably just saying right now that a lot of logistical things will have to be in order soon so that I don’t let the ball drop anywhere that’s really important. It’s good to be prepared and to have a sense of what’s next.

Today it was much more fun to meet up with friends and let the kids play together than to address to dos. I do so love a good summer day with the kids. Making memories right now feels just as important as making lists, though I have to strike a balance of both. There has to be a good way to make that happen, and maybe tomorrow I’ll go looking for it. Tonight, I’m going to try to shut off the flow of ideas that hasn’t turned off since early this morning. It’s time to call it a day and to lean into the possibility of sleep and the hopefulness of having energy to tackle new things again in the daylight.

Always moving forward, even if just a little bit at a time. (Also a bowl of cereal is calling, and I must go. 😉 )

MM

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What, this old thing? (93)

I used to want everything to be brand new when I acquired it. There’s something to be said for new, right? Fresh out of the package, untouched, unblemished. New things bring a sense of refreshment, hope. I feel this way about new seasons or adventures, new pursuits and certainly fresh bouquet of flowers or the way everything begins again with a resurgence of life in springtime. I’ve been watching our irises come up over the past week or so, and not only are the blossoms new, but we have new colors popping up that I’ve never seen before. It’s so life-giving to discover them in the garden, and I can’t help but take pictures–probably for the sake of remembering how hopeful it felt when they first appeared.

I think about the annual joy of school supply shopping in July and August, a pristine pair of new gym shoes, a perfectly sharpened pencil or a set of brand new sheets. Maybe sometimes it’s because a new thing represents something else that it’s so valuable, like the dress you pick out for your first formal dance, a recital costume you try on for the very first time, a crib sitting in a nursery awaiting one sought after event. I think we all long for fresh starts and things that are solely our own, not to mention opportunities to highlight our personalities, likes and dislikes. There’s nothing wrong with appreciating new.

And then, there’s old. Or maybe for our sakes we could say, “loved.” Sure, there are plenty of things that have seen their day and don’t have much use left in them, but then there are treasures abundant to be found among racks and shelves of discarded things. If you’ve ever donated something of value, you know exactly what I mean. There are diamonds in the rough to be had, and as I get older, I appreciate them more and more.

I’ve vowed not to become someone who can’t pass up a garage sale, but I also recognize the value of making great discoveries for a fraction of the cost. Knowing that a purchase also benefits a non-profit or ministry somehow makes it feel all the better. And the truth is, some of my favorite items in our home are ones I thrifted or purchased from a friend who thrifted them first.

We recently purchase a dresser from a thrift store in town, and I absolutely love it. It’s lines and quality are just so good, and I got it at a fraction of the cost of one bought new online. I looked at new ones for a long time first, and their cost and quality were so frustrating in comparison. Now, I can’t wait to add the dresser to our room, making a pretty addition to a place I’ll no doubt spend plenty of time after baby arrives. The dresser will be the perfect spot to accommodate the many diaper changes we can plan on enjoying in middle of the night. 😉

Why does any of this matter? Maybe it doesn’t really. But I’m sharing because it feels like a shift in perspective and priorities for me over the past few years, and I’m finding it offers me more contentment and joy than always craving the newest thing. Bringing something old back to life can be so good for my soul–it’s a victory in the area of stewardship that feels worth celebrating.

There will be days when I still crave, “new.” I look at baby things lately and just want to build the most perfect little layette for our honeybee’s arrival. But then I admire the things we’ve used for our other kiddos that have sweet memories attached, the simplicity of needs when a baby is first born. I look around me at all that we have, and it isn’t the stuff at all that makes this place feel like home. Home is where my people are, and soon, it will be where one more person makes this all the more true. I’m eager for that day. Still, while I wait it’ll be fun to set up and rearrange a few spaces in the house, and there’s no doubt there are things to repurpose here to make each room feel refreshed and new again.

There’s something to be said for new, yes. Of course there is. This little baby growing in my belly is among the gifts in this world that are intended to be embraced in their newness to the full, and we surely will. But then, when we come across older things that still have something to offer, what a gift to discover them! I love that my penchant for new, old things is growing as I age over here, too.

Maybe it is true what they say: What’s old is new again. How fun to be able to give things a second chance! To old and new and the unexpected delights they both bring,

MM

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I value you. I see you. I’ve got you. You are mine.

I find myself operating from a very introspective, over-thinking, determined–yet timid kind of place these days. Anyone else?

I’m not sure if it’s me that’s turned inside out, but more that the world feels upside down from a lot of angles, and I’m generally trying to find my way through the maze. Too much information. Not enough truth. So many voices vying for my attention. Not enough quiet. Life with far fewer time-obligations out in the world because so many events/classes/activities/social gatherings are on pause, but a heightened level of responsibility to and for our little brood, gathered within our four walls at all hours, always together.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my people. I love and absolutely do not take for granted that we get to do life together. And the fact that global circumstances have brought us here–to this place where we ALWAYS do life together, is very much a gift. But with great privilege comes great responsibility, and my Type 1 personality wants to get it so right, in every moment, all of the time.

The healthiest, wisest version of myself whispers, “Dear Molly, you are enough. Your efforts are worthy. Your heart shines through,” while the unhealthy parts of me refrain, “Yes, but you could always do more. You could do better. You should…”

Friends, in this time when the world feels tenuous and tender (because it very much IS), I know that I know that I know that God wishes we’d hear His whispers of “I value you. I see you. I’ve got you. You are mine,” over anything else. The air around us is loud. And it isn’t just loud. Some (most?) days it’s swirling with tension, unrest, ache, offense, defense, disagreement and the smoke rising from too many matches lit and thrown on top of an already burning fire. I can’t even begin to unpack what last night exposed even further about this time we’re living in, as two grown babies argued and disregarded one another on live television while the world watched. The examples set before us in this arena are simply awful. AWFUL. And they don’t set the tone for the rest of us to remember to be kind, to treat others with respect, to love one another as we’re called to love. We can ask ourselves how we got here, and that question has its place. But what’s more urgent in a time such as this is to ask ourselves WHERE we can place our trust when so much is untrustworthy. Let’s be honest. Digging out the truth these days is a full time job with loads of overtime and no extra pay.

And on that note, I’ve done it. I’ve gone searching for truth in the news cycle, in off-the-beaten-path resources, in reports from regular people like you and me instead of mainstream media. And I’ve gone down the rabbit hole and spent too many hours trying to figure it out myself, to my own detriment. Not daily, not since March, but from time to time when I’ve set down where I actually place my hope and tried to pick up controlling things on my own.

This is a terrible idea. It just is. I can say this with assurance because I’ve experienced the impact of this behavior on my own heart and mind. Friends, our minds are swirling and our hearts are weary for so many big and real reasons. The information train of social media, television, everyone’s opinions and our own internal voices eventually becomes too much. Trying to take it all in isn’t helpful. I’ve only found two things that help defray the cost of these influences on my life and mindset, and one is mightier than the other. The first we’ll group into the category of quiet/self care/exercise/rest/nutrition, and the second (but not second) is Jesus.

If I don’t get my head in the Word, I can’t stop the crazy train in my head. I just can’t. There’s too much begging for my attention. I’m not saying I do this well, I’m just saying that the Word is the ONLY thing that has staying power to bring peace. The. Only. Thing. I’ll admit that some days I can’t even bring myself to dig deep there, even if I know it’s what best. So I play songs that speak truth over me and over our kids as we go about the day. I find the podcast that preaches on what God has to say about any one thing. I offer up little prayers all the day long and I ask Him to bring clarity in areas where I feel like I have none.

This time in the world is riddled with hard. I feel it, too. But if you’re in the camp of Jesus being the answer, our hope has not changed. We all have some really big decisions ahead of us in this next month leading up to election day. I’m not going to get political here–that’s really never been my intent. But I’ll say this: I remember heading to vote four years ago and the only thing guiding my hand in that booth being God’s gently-leading direction. I’m praying for that again. Begging for it. Doing this allows me to put down the effort to dive into every politically charged and divisive topic, and to put my discernment and faith to work instead. God has brought leaders to power throughout the history of the world, and He has allowed them to rise and fall. We are still His people no matter who is in charge, and that won’t ever change.

The world is upside down to us, because we’re not in control. But we serve a really giant God who, in spite of ourselves, keeps whispering in His merciful way, “I value you. I’ve got you. I see you. You are mine.” In any circumstance, He isn’t confused. He’s never been mean or poor, His Kingdom is not is trouble, and at the end of the day and because of Christ, neither are we. Bless the Lord for that.

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you are Henry. you are six.

Oh, Buddy.

How did we get here so fast? Maybe the fact that I’m writing you a whole week past your birthday is good evidence that things are moving faster than I can keep up. As always, I long for more time with you, I ache to dedicate more time to you, I wish I could free up my hands better to do more for you. And the truth is, I’m probably always going to feel that way as your mom, no matter how well things are going, or how beautiful a spot of 24 hours might be with you. There will forever be more in my heart than I can show you in the flesh. That’s just how this parenting gig goes. I pray that someday you’ll have babies of your own, and then you’ll know just exactly what I mean.

Henry, love, you turned six last week. SIX. The night before your birthday, I thought back to that night in the hospital with your dad as we waited for you, knowing so very little of what was to come and feeling all of the anticipation I could ever feel just before seeing your perfect face and bringing you close to soak you in. I won’t forget that night, not ever. Nor how you came forth with gusto at 3 a.m. on the dot, the time of your birth telling, even then, of your precision and personality. You were a marvel to me and to all of us who love you, and you still are.

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If I could tell you any one thing today that would cement in your heart forever, it would be that you are loved at all times, no matter what. You know that God loves you, and you know that Christ died for you. You can repeat back to me that I love you “a crazy ton!” and you’re good at having all of the right things to say. But there are days when I wonder if you know that you know that you know that we love you deeply, widely, with all of us, and that you can always rest there and find peace.

Your heart is a lot like mine, sweet boy. Willing to pour out and love hard and forgive over and over again, always searching for the best in someone, finding the silver lining when things get tough. That’s all beautiful to me, but because I can recognize it, I also know how tricky it can be to keep that pace and take that angle every single time. Your capacity to love will sometimes mean you accept things you shouldn’t, you feel guilty when you don’t need to, and you take on the aches and pains of others as your own, without realizing the cumulative cost. I see this in you, and it’s sometimes hard when I notice that you’re already learning about disappointment and hurt on a deeper level than I want your six year old heart to understand.

As your mama, I want to protect you from things, and sometimes to a fault. I’ve gotten better at just letting you go–to run and jump and explore and fall and fail and get back up again. I have to do that. But I’m afraid we rush things in this life, so there’s this nagging voice in the back of my head that tells me you need to grow tougher, faster, when really, you don’t. You need to be a little boy, and to learn the world through little kid eyes. You do not need to grow up any faster. While you’re small, be small. Time is going more quickly than any of us likes, anyway.

You are smarter than I ever was at your age, and the way you think about things always stops me in my tracks to think differently about them, too. It’s one of my very favorite thing about you. Your mind is always going, and you have so many creative ideas! Sometimes my impatience as a grown up stifles this part of who you are, but that’s my weakness, not yours. Your attention to detail and the care you put into everything that matters to you will serve you well at every stage of your life. Don’t change that part of you for anyone, OK? God made you so wise and so sharp for a reason. The world needs you to be who He created you to be.

I could go on and on for days to you, Henry David. You were the first baby I ever loved as a mama, and you’re always going to be. I know you know that you get to stay my little boy forever–in your thoughtful way, you verbally remind me of that on days when you’re so clearly growing up and you can tell it’s bittersweet for me…your sensitivity to the feelings of others is a gift.

Of course, there are things in this stage of life for you that aren’t perfect, and I’m not writing you to pretend that we always get things right, or that there’s never any bumps in the road. We have plenty, you and I. Being so much alike, we clash. Wanting to care for each other well, we’re painfully aware of when we get it wrong. I forget you’re six sometimes, and I expect too much. You forget I only have two hands and two ears sometimes, and you get frustrated when things can’t be focused on you. That’s totally fair. I would feel the same way if I was six and had as much to contribute as you do! We’ll keep working on that balance.

What do I love most about you these days, sweet boy? Oh my goodness, I adore your heart for your siblings. You love them so well, and you care about how they feel. This morning, you read your bible on the floor next to Crosby while he played, and as I peeked around the corner to check on your both, there was such gratitude in my heart. He loves you so much already, and he is at peace with you, which is a treasure. Eloise loves to adventure with you, and she’ll do anything you suggest so long as you’re caring for her in your way as you go. You are a natural born leader, which means there’s lots of love in our house when you’re loving, and lots of crazy in our house when you unleash your wild side. You’re my right hand during the week when dad is at work, and that’s a pretty tall order for a six year old. You weather it well.

I love that you’re reading so well, and diving into stories over and over again of your own volition. I love your appetite for learning. I also love to watch you run–so much energy bursting out of you from every side. I love that you notice things. I love how you pray. I am thankful every single day that I’m your mama–even on the hardest ones. God knew what he was doing (of course!) when He let us borrow you for this life.

IMG_5154I hope to keep you forever and ever, but I also pray that I will steward our time together well, so that someday, you’re ready to take on this great, big world. You are only six, and I can already see the plans swirling around you for the future. It is bright with you in it, precious boy. It is so, so bright!

i do love you a crazy ton, and then i love you some more!

mama

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firsts. (30)

Today was a good day. We embarked on a few firsts (namely, kindergarten) and I think the experience might have even exceeded expectations. Henry was so excited for his first day at his new homeschool collaborative this morning, making it (mostly) easy to drop him off without a tear (mine) at school.

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Eloise was a quite downtrodden about having Henry gone for the day, which reaffirmed my inclination that our kiddos really do thrive when they’re together. I’m so thankful for this option to have Henry in a school setting with great teachers, classmates and families, but to still have him home most days of the week for now.

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Eloise and I headed out on a few little mommy and Ella Belle firsts of our own…she was eager to spend time out and about and not at home without Henry, which was endearing and ended up being a great way to share our first day in a new routine. We stopped for coffee and a treat, and then got our nails polished (which feels like a manicure to a three year old. Win!) together for the first time downtown.

A little lunch at home and face time with Gramma, and it was already time to collect Henry again. The reunion was sweet as both kiddos wanted to catch each other up on the excitement of their days. The afternoon was fairly peaceful–everyone was happy to be back together in the nest again for the rest of the day.

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I have been coasting on some crazy level of ambition and energy for the past few days, but this afternoon, I just kind of fizzled out. Par for the course, but tonight I’m really ready for bed after falling asleep once already when I first sat down to these keys. It’s grand to be motivated at the stage of pregnancy, but it’s probably all the better to be realistic that there’s a difference between how much I want to do and how much I actually can do right now. I’ll spend the next few weeks trying to strike a good balance, I’m sure.

Tonight, the house is quiet while tuckered out kiddos sleep and Jason and I work away at respective projects before bed. I am so glad to be here in this anticipatory space, where life hasn’t yet changed but it’s on the horizon. It’s so timely to be coming into a new phase of life at the same time that the air is slanting slightly cooler and the leaves are beginning to turn. Tomorrow welcomes September. That feels beautiful in and of itself. I’ve never been quite so excited for fall as I am this year. There’s much to look forward to, and firsts around every corner.

easing our way into the newness of things,

mm