Supposed to...

Why do I do the things I do?
I look at my daily "to-do" list... I am a big fan of lists. I love seeing chores, errands, phone calls to make, ...all of these being tedious items, I am not really that boring, or maybe...anyhow, I am getting sidetracked, I love seeing them written down on paper, so that upon completion, I can physically cross them out. But, what motivates me to do these things, I can't believe that is only for the small satisfaction of crossing them off. No, I am sure that I am not so shallow, so trivial, that I am unable to have deeper meaning behind the many tasks that often make up my day.
My day consists of many "have-tos". I have to get out of bed, seemingly a hard thing as of late. I have to feed my children, and dress them, and sometimes it is trying to have so many little people completely dependant on you. I have to wash clothes, which is not a complaint, by the way. Sometimes, the "have-tos" are not really "have-tos", my attitude just makes them that way.
I remember as a child, asking an authority figure, "Do I have to?" The response was usually a cryptic, "You don't have to, you get to." Different perspectives, I suppose.
The world of "should-haves" is constantly banging in the corners of my mind. I find difficulty in not succumbing to the pressures of that place outside my comfort zone that is dragging at me. My husband if forever faithful at reminding me to not live with regrets.
And, then there are the "supposed tos". These are the hardest of them all. The things that are in the future, that I generally view with apprehension. Or, the things I do, not because I want to, or have to, but that I am, well, supposed to. This list is also the longest. This list often requires commitment and sacrifice, two things that often don't come naturally for me, but if I persevere, and finish, there is much joy.
I took this picture of Meadow on her first day of kindergarten. You are supposed to do that right? I was so proud of her, excited for her, nervous for her....the morning was hurried, the slow, careful moments that should have been taken for such an event didn't happen. Four months later, I am still so proud of her, her independence, her smile.
I concur with Solomon, when God offered him anything, anything, he had only to choose. He chose wisdom. As I look at my days, my to-do lists, my husband, my four beautiful children, that is what I crave... wisdom. This was God's reply to me:
"if any of you lack wisdom, you should ask of God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you!"
I believe all of my have-tos just changed to get tos!

Ocean

We celebrated Ocean's 8th birthday last week. I am still in awe that I have been on the "Ocean" journey for 8 years. For a few of his birthdays, we would have big celebrations. We wanted to celebrate his life and all that he is. Lately, however, we have kept the idea simple. For that is who he is, simple. And, I don't mean that in a bad way, I mean the way he sees life. Don't get me wrong, he still loves his balloons, his candles, and his chocolate cake, but we keep the invites to a minimum.
I hope they don't mind me mentioning them, but I love to celebrate his birthday with our friends, the Genns. I feel, in a way, they have walked the "Ocean" journey along side us. When Josh blessed our meal and prayed for Ocean, it was with a love that only someone who has known him for a long time could pray, and I am so thankful to know them and have them know our Ocean.
I think that all of the unknowns that make up our life together forces me to trust. I find there is very little we have to trust for anymore. We have insurance for our houses, for our cars, for our health, for our very lives, for our spouses life, and for our future.
We spend our days planning, planning our days, our weekends, our vacations, and our retirements. Our security is as important to us as the air we breathe. The day we allowed ourselves to believe that we may never have an answer for who Ocean is, the day we looked that last doctor in the eye as he told us that he didn't know, that was the beginning of a journey of learning to trust my God.
I looked up at the sky, I knew Someone who knew. He knew why Ocean was the way he was. He knew what Ocean's purpose was here on this earth. I wish I could say that Ocean was here to grow our family in strength, and patience, and love, and humility. He certainly has done all of these things. I wish I could say that Ocean was here, so that all the many people involved in his life could meet Jesus through our family. I sincerely hope that has happened. But, the truth is, I still cannot say for sure. I still wish we had an earthly answer. I would love to be able to say Ocean is the way he is because of... the better answer is, Jesus made him, and I trust Him completely, for He does all things well.

still..

I was asked the other day if I still write. hmmm...so I sat down, placed my fingers on the keyboard, and stared at the screen. I know that I have lots to write about, but to bring those thoughts together into a comprehensible post is similar to the collecting of marbles after Ocean has had his way with them. I guess you have to know Ocean to understand that last sentence.
I last wrote in July, asking if I still write is like asking if I still shower on a daily basis or have regular dates with my husband or if my baby is sleeping through the night.
yes, but so rarely that when they occur, regardless of any other events that day, there is joy.
I've been busy, sure I have, hasn't everyone? I rush around, making my lists, running my errands, seeing my friends, chauffeuring my kids, walking my dog...and I realized that life changes. I am so glad that it does. I can't imagine doing what I do every day for the rest of my life.
The one absolute in my life, in my world is God. He tells me to "be still and know that I am God." In all of the busyness, in all of the craziness that is my life, God is there, and He wants me to stop, if just for a moment, be still, and acknowledge Him.

Forgetful

I am ashamed. An apology stutters from my mouth at least once a day, usually going something like this..."Oh, I am so sorry, I know that I wrote it down somewhere..." or "was that today, yes, you told me, I just... I'm sorry, I forgot."
Why can't I remember everything that I need to remember? Why do I forget appointments, and grocery lists, and things to return, and bills to pay, stock to order, and phone calls to answer? Why did I not remember that I told my daughter we would go to the park this morning? Or, how could I possibly not remember my friend's birthday, or that my husband bikes EVERY Tuesday night?
The laundry was forgotten out on the line, now it is raining. The french toast, yep, that is definitely a burnt smell. My baby, my sweet baby, when was the last time I changed her diaper?!
I did sign up for that, didn't I? I wrote that down on something, somewhere.
Yes, I am on my way, I always say that I am five minutes late for every kid, ha ha. Would it be alright if I added an extra five for my dog?
You sent an email? I haven't checked that today, or maybe it has been a few days. Yes, the mail, I believe I checked that yesterday, or was that last week? Who put the coffee creamer in the microwave? And, I was positive that I put soap in the dishwasher...
There are moments I want to never forget, and moments that I wish I could erase from my memory forever. How can it be that when I am hurt by others, my pride and self will hold on to that hurt, clinging to my rights to be treated respectfully and appropriately, and so easily forget that I have also been the offender? And, even if cling stubbornly to my right to demand forgiveness or to withhold forgiveness, I so easily forget the predestined grace I bathe in on a daily basis.
I haven't been diagnosed with Alzheimer's yet, but if I ever am, I pray that I will never forget all of God's benefits. He forgives all my sins, and healeth all of my diseases, He redeemed my life from destruction, and covers me with loving kindness and tender mercies, He satisfies my mouth with good things, and He is merciful, gracious, slow to anger and plenteous in mercy.

to be..

It was a beautiful day. The sun was warm, and bright, and well, it was there. We hadn't seen it in at least a week, although I knew it was there, just waiting to come out.
I sipped my coffee and contemplated this day, this special day. Twelve years ago, this day, Blue and I were married. It has, to date, been one of the happiest days of my life. I was, am, madly in love with this man. For some, this love that makes a marriage, that ties two people together is based on feelings, on circumstances, on actions. Our marriage is not perfect, but it is a gift, a good gift from the One who is perfect and good and love.
We often struggle with special days, anniversaries, birthdays, and the such. The constant demands of life pulling such that to add something extra is too great. I feel the pressure, often in advance, to "do something", to make this day different than any of our other days. I forget, forget that I have a wonderful husband, who loves me. I forget that I have four beautiful children who give so much to my life. I forget that every day is special.
So, as this anniversary approached, I reminded Blue, I made plans, I contacted a babysitter, so that we could have a few minutes alone. Then, I discover that Blue has inadvertantly registered for a bike race on this day. This day, our special day! I was hurt, and I was angry. He apologizes, he cancels, he tells me he loves me. No, I am sure that this day, this special day is ruined!
The night before, he returns from a ride and as he turns to face me, I see that his face is covered in blood. Fear races through by body, but unfortunately leaves my body with the face of anger. I lash out at him, covering my fear with blame, somehow this all must be his fault.
So, this morning of this special day, I sip my coffee. Our babysitter was unable to come, so this day is made more special by the vibrant presence of our four little ones. My sweet man is making us breakfast. We will drift away the afternoon by the river, picnicing, and splashing in the water. And, I am so grateful, am so blessed, am so content to be.

the end of a beautiful friendship

it has been a long time. Since I have written, I mean.
Yesterday's to-do list has become today's.
There are no longer activities that differentiate one day from another.
The days seem longer somehow, filled with small, menial tasks, that added up all of a sudden become so important.
I long for the world outside mine, yet pull away from it at the same time, as if I no longer belong.
If I allow too many weeks, so many days, often many minutes to drift by without a reminder of Who the true source of joy is, of Who my joy is, I am resigned. Resigned to the drudgery of daily tasks that although completed are never truly complete. Resigned to the anxiety, the fear, the helplessness, the heaviness that never seems to leave, and will reign, if I allow it.
God tells me to "be anxious for nothing." Nothing. that is a massive word, encompassing all that I know, all that I treasure, all that I fear. Over the last few years, why sound so vague? Over the last 3 years, 2 months, and 21 days, I have fought a fierce battle with anxiety.
And, can it be true? Tomorrow it is all to end? We have accepted an offer on our condo, and tomorrow, everything will be finalized. A weight, a weight that has taught us so much will be lifted.
Am I "jumping the gun", "counting my eggs before they hatch"? No, I don't think so. For, if I have learned one thing in the last few years, I have learned that God, my God, is trustworthy,and faithful, and merciful, and loving.
Lamentations 3:22-23 "It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.
They are new every morning; great is Thy faithfulness."

Willow Anne Falconer

Two and a half weeks ago, our lives, once again, changed forever. On April 8, 2010, at 10:30 p.m., Willow Anne Falconer was born. She is beautiful and perfect,awe-inspiring and miraculous. When the doctor placed her on my chest and announced that she was a girl, I just wanted to sob with gratitude. My heart felt as if it would explode with love for this little person that I did not yet know, but would as of that first moment of introduction, give anything for. Everyone around us disappeared, and there was just the two of us, soaking in the euphoria of love at first sight.
She is our fourth child, and with each one, I have wondered how my heart can possibly love another child as much as I do the one I already have. And, with each one, my heart effortlessly stretches to envelope this new little one.
We brought her home a few days later, and for two weeks enjoyed the loving support of my dad. His time and efforts spent with our three older kids, and making meals, and even doing dishes, helped to soften the shock of life with four children.
Yet, the past few weeks have, for me, been a bit of a blur.
From the wisps of fog that surround my brain, I can recall the memories of good friends bringing delicious meals and desiring a peak at the baby. I seem to remember that relentless newborn cry that wants to feed every hour or two instead of every three like they are supposed to. I remember my sweet husband rubbing my back as I drag my exhausted body from bed several times a night to feed our baby. My son's frantic voice as he yells, a moment too late "Mom, poo!, it's coming out!"
My daughter's persistent need to know why the baby can't play with her yet, and if the baby likes having her as a big sister. My darling Ocean, always trying to pull my shirt up when he hears the baby crying, is quickly learning what is needed to make her happy.
All of this, and much more, culminated in a good, long cry yesterday. I was actually proud of myself for making it that long. I have always liked the verse in Psalms that tells us that God keeps all of our tears in a bottle. I actually laughed as I imagined God fumbling for another bottle as I filled up bottle after bottle. I am so thankful that He doesn't fumble, and that He knew I was going to have a cry, and exactly how many tears I would shed. A long cry is cleansing, healthy, I have decided. For I definitely felt better after.
I also felt better after a talk with my sister. She had her fourth three months ago, so I knew if anyone could identify exactly with how I felt, it would be her.
I was right. She is wise, and sweet and loving. She told me exactly what I needed to hear.
II Corinthians 9:8 "AND GOD IS ABLE to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having ALL sufficiency in ALL things, may abound to every good work:"

I may not always feel able, or even capable, but my God is, and will give me sufficient grace for every situation!