monday spotlight: fambly

My sister has a food blog. Well, she has several food blogs. Kate, who used to ask for directions to boil water, is now the go-to girl for meal ideas and recipe tips in our family. Who woulda thunk?

And yes, that is us. We have a weird sort of dysfunctional relationship where we tell each other pretty much exactly what we think, and she was annoyed with me for asking for a photo of the two of us, but come on - it's the first shot we've had together in about five years!

Ahem.

Anyway, The Fresh Gourmet is a consolidation of (in my opinion) her very best recipes - the ones I can eat because they are low-fat and easy on my gall bladder (which is just gonna have to tough it out until I can do something about it when baby is older). We designed the blog together, and I am under orders to share my own recipes here as well.

I'm getting there.

But I wanted to bring Kate into the sunshine, whether I add my own recipes or not. Seriously, you have to check her place out.



...

And if I'm spotlighting people, it has been a bit since I shared photos of the kiddos here - you know, the ones I'm trying to avoid sometimes when I sit down to write. The cute ones that make me smile in spite of myself - and in spite of themselves!


Piper, the ham.


Yes, she does sleep sometimes.


Remembering what we were...


The happiest guy I know...


B likes to blow bubbles to get my attention....


Invitation...





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Not Yet Ready, But Love...

Having a little driving time is good for me. I think better as the world passes by, with the movement of car on pavement, with music and lyrics of God-songs telling and retelling about Him, about life, about me.

On my way from my midwife appointment yesterday (at which I discovered that all the contractions I've had haven't been for nothing - I was 4cm dilated!), I was listening again to Vicky Beeching's song, Captivated.

"May my life be one unbroken gaze fixed upon the beauty of Your face..."

Her lyric got caught in the web that is my pregnant brain and took a rabbit trail into the video I shared in the link above.

Instead of seeing myself gazing at Jesus, I saw Him living His life, engaging with others, pursuing and treasuring relationship. I saw how much He valued the ones He loved.

I'm not one to rush out and do things for the sake of doing them. Most of the time, I simply don't have the resources to pour me out the way I often feel that I must. But sometimes, I hold myself back from giving of myself, unready in my heart or in my sense of the proper timing, unwilling to be a hypocrite for the sake of appearances, willing to sacrifice my image for authenticity.

As I looked at Jesus' interactions with those in His life, I couldn't help but acknowledge how little I look like Him sometimes. He poured Himself out ALL the time, it seemed. I am lucky if I can admit to doing it at all for my family.

Mentally, I was ready to check out from this train of thought. There was too much room for guilt, for inadequacy, for failure, for condemnation.

But in His way (God is so gentle with me, it's astounding...), He brought my vision to Cana, in view of Jesus' face when His mother brought the wine situation to Him. I heard His voice, a little strained, unready and uncalled to display Himself in the ministry that would soon consume His whole life.

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Now both Jesus and His disciples were invited to the wedding. And when they ran out of wine, the mother of Jesus said to Him, “They have no wine.”

Jesus said to her, “Woman, what does your concern have to do with Me? My hour has not yet come.”

His mother said to the servants, “Whatever He says to you, do it.”

Now there were set there six waterpots of stone, according to the manner of purification of the Jews, containing twenty or thirty gallons apiece. Jesus said to them, “Fill the waterpots with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. And He said to them, “Draw some out now, and take it to the master of the feast.” And they took it.

When the master of the feast had tasted the water that was made wine, and did not know where it came from (but the servants who had drawn the water knew), the master of the feast called the bridegroom. And he said to him, “Every man at the beginning sets out the good wine, and when the guests have well drunk, then the inferior. You have kept the good wine until now!”

- John 2:1-10

"My hour has not yet come." It is not yet time... I'm not ready...

Yet for love of her, for her trust in His provision, He gave of Himself in spite of it.

I am too often afraid of Jesus until I look into His love.

I may not have much to give right now; I may be unsure of timing, uncertain of my own heart, of the depth of my love for God and for my family.

But I have been given an earthen-vessel Treasure that He means to pour out - how do I know it won't be the best wine at the wedding?

...

Today is my second "Leftovers" post, and MckLink-up for readers to share your own reposts. I posted the above post at 2:00 a.m., December 17, 2009, two hours before my water broke for Bredon's birth. Obviously, this post got a little overlooked in the "I'm in labor" and "We had a baby!" hoopla. It is one that keeps coming back for me, though so I thought I would post it a bit more currently.

NOTE - I am offering "Leftovers" as an opportunity to justify reposting a post you love. You're welcome to join this carnival of original unoriginality (since you've already said it!) here at my blog - just follow the steps below:

*REPOST a favorite blog post at your blog
*Please kindly INCLUDE A LINK to my blog in your repost ;-)
*LINK the direct link for your repost (not the original post) into the McLinky I will provide here.
*LEAVE A COMMENT so I know you're there.

Hopefully, in two weeks, when I host "Leftovers" again (yeesh, people, if you have a nicer, more poetic, romantic name for it, leave a comment - NOBODY likes leftovers, right?), I will try and have an irresistible button for you (with CODE!) to add to your repost.







(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

About Dad: How God Fathers Me

I've been thinking about my dad this week. Trying to remember what I know of him that I haven't been told. Wondering what relationship do I have with him, really?

I've always been pretty independent. As a child, I had my own ideas about life. My own decided way of doing things. It was usually the hard way, my dad would say.

But I remember needing him. He was the only one who could take out the splinters I got in my fingers and toes. "Pop's Splinter Shop," he called it, teasing me every time that he was gonna charge me a nickel I didn't have for his services. As if I would have paid him for doing something he was supposed to do. I knew he was joking, but part of me always wondered...

When I got older, Dad tried teaching me to let my teenage emotions roll, "like water off a duck's back." It never really worked with me. I was determined to have my emotions. I learned instead to control them when needed, then process and deal later. I'm a venter, a rambler, and once I get stuff out, I don't feel it anymore.

But I was talking about Dad.

...

In college, I called Dad a lot. So much so that Mom thought I just didn't care about her. I just didn't have much to say to anyone in college. There was so much going on internally. Most of the time I already knew what I needed to do to fix the thing I was calling about. I just needed Dad to validate my decisions.

I have realized in recent years that I was a pretty decent manipulator. I could talk Dad into just about anything - or he simply let me have my head, figuring he couldn't tell me what to do. He and Mom tell me they never really could.

Relating to my dad on any sort of emotional level is difficult. My dad is so pragmatic. It's the Langner in him. I know it, because I have the same pragmatism. I learned it from my grandma, his mom. There are places he reserves for Mom, feelings he just can't find a place for, things he just doesn't feel at all.

Just before he walked me down the aisle at my wedding, he leaned in and offered, "this is your last chance to back out." It wasn't what I wanted to hear. But it was definitely what Dad had to say. He wouldn't have been Dad otherwise and that would have been weird.

When I was in labor with Piper, Dad was cracking jokes that I wanted to hear, but you can NOT laugh in labor. Ask anyone who has done it. You need those laugh-muscles to end the pain. I asked him afterward what he'd been feeling. He said he was fine. He'd done it eight times with my mom. I found out from my mom recently that he loves babies.

I look at pictures of Dad and me when I was a baby. I see things in his eyes, in his smile that I don't recognize. Things that Mom said she saw again after Pete called to ask permission to date me, court me, marry me. She said he was walking around the house, happy.

I had a hard time picturing it.

...

Bonnie at Faith Barista wrote yesterday of "Looking for My Real Father." She shared excerpts from a book she has been reading about how children tend to view God through the lens of what they have known from their parents, from their dad.

I never call God Father. Not in relation to myself anyway. Jesus is God's Son, God is Jesus' Father. I simply don't consider the fact that I figure into that equation.

But I do, whether I realize it or not.

For years, I lived believing God loved me on a purely intellectual level. My response to this love was duty, and the sense that if I performed well, He would give me what I wanted. It was a rather detailed system I had worked out to manipulate the God of the universe into being what I thought He should be.

It wasn't that coherent. But it was how I lived.

God shattered my illusions with the reality of His deep, consuming love, love that wouldn't let me live in my misunderstanding of Him, love that required me to accept Him on His terms, the Truth of Him, the all of Him that spoke out of the whirlwind to Job and asked him if he really knew who God was, the God who came to Job as a man to show him the man wasn't enough to comprehend God's ways.

I can't yet call this God Abba.

...

When I go home, I know my dad is happy to see me. He holds my children, asks for hugs once in a while, and his eyes smile when he looks at me. If I dare to look into them, I see a question that is never asked, a little bit of awe, a deep affection that is never voiced.

I see my "Daddy."

But I'm grown up now. I'm not supposed to need a Daddy when I'm grown up.

And I'm good at being grown up. Most of the time anyway.

But sometimes when I cry, I miss knowing that things were okay because Daddy said they were okay. Because he was home or he was at work and things were normal and under control and Mom could call him and make things better during the day and he could help when he was home at night.

Suddenly, I realize that this is what I can't release when I think about God. This childlike understanding and trust of His sovereignty. The hope beneath my tears that everything is okay because He is God and He is at work and I can call Him and He will come for my heart.

He'll dig my splinters out free of charge, and put a band-aid on it to help me feel better. He'll whisper His words to me when I wished for something else. And because they come from Him, they will come to mean more to me than I could have known when He said them.

...

I pulled Dad out onto the dance floor with me at my wedding. Dad doesn't dance. I knew he felt awkward. But he came with me and went around a few times and smiled and cracked a few jokes I don't remember, in his way.

He offered me himself with that gracious acquiescence to my heart.

This is why grace means so much to me.

...

God loves me and gives to me and fills me with good things in spite of me, in spite of my frequent, childish misunderstanding of His Person.

This is why Jesus' life and death and resurrection is so vitally important. His condescension of God into flesh was driven by an incredible love, a deep Father-affection revealed in the setting aside of His God-glory to become like me, to dance with me where I am. This is grace, His Father-waiting and teaching and helping me to comprehend what I will never fully know until I meet Him face to face - when I will see Him as He is.

I get only glimpses of my dad that I can know as an adult. As a grown-up, I am learning to relate to him on an adult level. But my child-heart still thinks of him as "Daddy." I wonder if I will ever grow up.

With God it is backward. The growing-up means becoming more childlike, becoming like Jesus, the Son of Man who deeply trusted His Abba, Father.

"Abba, Father," he said, "everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will."

- Mark 14:36

Greater love...

...

I watch Pete forming a relationship with Piper now, listen to her "Daddy!", laugh at the giggles and excitement only he can produce from her, and I wonder what questions she will have about him someday. I wonder how she will be disappointed by him. I wonder what she will learn of God through her relationship with him.

I hope she will know how much they love her.

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This post also linked at Holy Experience for Walk With Him Wednesday.






(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Christmas Photos - Set the First

Bredon liked Nana's colorful quilt. Mommy liked Nana's bed. VERY soft.


Daddy and Bredon had a conversation. Mommy missed the context because they took her breath away.


And here we continue to fall in love...


Piper "flwys"... and Mom catches her in midair. I haven't lost it!


Christmas pose. Er, Looney Toons pose.


A Little Eskimo with her Auntie "M"

More to come as I get time to process - and get my brother to send me some. He got this terrific video of Piper and her cousin Chip banging out a piano duet together...





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Crazy Christmas

On Christmas Eve, with Bredon just a week old, we bundled into the car at 5:00 a.m. and drove to Virginia ahead of an ice storm that didn't arrive until late that night anyway. Both kids slept the entire way up, Bredon in our car, and Piper in her "Uncle" Kate's car - a blue corolla christened "Bugs Bunny, Jr." Piper loves that car.

Pete and I got some good talk time, and I got a song stuck in my head for the duration of the weekend - I couldn't have asked for a better one for the weekend that held enough drama to make a Lifetime Christmas movie.

Oy.

Christmas itself was fairly uneventful - who could have events when the weather was keeping everyone inside? We spent the day relaxing and chasing little ones - ours and my brother's two kids. Almost everyone was home for Christmas; my brother Joel (number four of our eight) was due to arrive with his fiancée the next day.

The next morning, my mom got a call from Joel, asking for prayer. He and his fiancée had gotten off a bit later from her family's house than they had intended, and something was going on. Two phone calls later, we discovered that they had decided to elope, five months before their wedding date in May.

The next two days saw a couple of drive-way stuck cars, a visit from my inlaws, a second birthday for my brother's son Chip, a run for a marriage license and wedding fixings, and lots and lots of activity and drama as we all processed and bounced off one another in my parents' house as we waited for their driveway to freeze and thaw and freeze and thaw for ingress and egress.

Pete and Piper and I left Monday, because Pete needed to be back at work on Tuesday. We got off late, and made pretty good time to Statesville, NC, where we stopped for dinner. And found a potato peeling in my husband's salad greens.

For those of you who don't know, my husband is deathly allergic to potatoes. Anaphalactic shock deathly allergic. He went out to the parking lot to vomit while I collected the kids and what was left of my nerves after the home drama before we headed to the nearest hospital.

Have you ever tried to keep a curious toddler from pushing buttons in a hospital room while trying to nurse a fussy newborn? *insert slightly maniacal laugh here* It's bad when the emergency patient is chasing the kid around with an IV in his arm, isn't it?

They drugged Pete up, and we made for home again around 9:30, with about 4 and a half hours left on the drive.

Piper woke at about 1:30 a.m., disoriented and wanting to be held. She cried the remaining thirty minutes into Charleston, and panicked when we got home until she got her pillow-and-blanket-on-the-warm-cozies with snacks and tea fix.

Christmas 2009 may go down as our craziest Christmas ever. At least until one of our kids calls home to say they're eloping. I really don't want to try to top it...

(Oh, and Joel did get married on Tuesday with most of the immediate family and our Aunt Chris present. We missed it, but even the people who were there didn't see the kiss - they heard it!)

I'll be doing a photo post as soon as I can put one together here. For now, I'm just clearing my head... Which I can do at the moment, with BOTH. KIDS. SLEEPING.

*GRIN*





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Sometimes I wonder...

...if it really does any good to pray.

And on days like today, I stumble into the reality that God listens. And answers.

You who are praying for me, I am in awe. I am almost hesitant to accept the strength, the encouragement, the rays of sunlight, the uplifted mood as everything shifts from clouds to color and brightness.

The waiting isn't hard today. My heart isn't so heavy as my stomach feels, hanging off my front, bigger than ever. His good is falling down around me, and I'm heart-staring in unwarranted surprise.

I have no explanation beyond your prayers.

It's humbling for me to ask you to continue. But who can knock this? Especially realizing that He is listening to you. Answering your prayers. Caring for me. Showing His care for you in His provision for me.

I think I don't need to be so hesitant to offer to pray as I have been.

Thank you for praying for me. For your involvement in teaching this heart more about His heart.

Ya'll (lol - my ode to having moved South!!! - did I just SAY THAT???) are incredible.

"Praise the LORD! Oh, give thanks to the LORD, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever."
(Ps. 106:1)





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Refrigerator Sweet Roll Dough

The flavor on this dough is so buttery - it's amazing...

2 pkgs yeast
1/4 cup lukewarm water

1 3/4 cups scalded milk
1/4 cup sugar
1 1/2 cups butter
1/2 tsp salt

4 eggs, beaten

8 cups flour

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Dissolve yeast in water. Mix next four ingredients until butter is melted. Cool to lukewarm. Add yeast and eggs. Stir in half the flour until mixture is smooth. Add remaining flour. Let rise 1 hour. Punch down. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate 3 hours or overnight.

When ready to use, knead dough 5 minutes. Let rest 5 minutes. Form into rolls or bread.

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*TIP - I roll the dough out flat and cover it with a melted butter/cinnamon/sugar/raisin/walnuts mixture. Then I roll it up into loaves or cut it for rolls.

my sister "party"

I'm not much of a party planner lately, so it wasn't really planned. I don't have a lot of friends down here yet, so it wasn't a large party. It wasn't even really a "party." It was a whole, wonderful weekend spent drowsing and watching movies and playing with Piper and visiting the beach and getting a flat tire and hanging out and going out and talking and laughing in-between times. We didn't remember to get a photo of us together until Leeann was on the plane headed home - Can you imagine, this photographer has been on camera strike lately.

This whole Sister Party thing left me feeling a bit unsure of myself, wanting to participate, not really having close friends I could just hang with - until Leeann came to town for a visit.

Leeann's visit refreshed me. She was a bridesmaid in my wedding, the one bridesmaid who was really there for me, even though I didn't realize it at the time. She sees me as I am, and is willing to be who she is with me in spite of it. We talk about God and life and learn from one another; she challenges me with her optimism in the face of D.C. politics. I love seeing how God has secreted her away from the power struggles there and given her a passion for hearts instead.

I can still talk about boys with her too - she's single and fantastic. She hasn't yet met the guy who wants God the way she does, and she doesn't want to settle. So we can giggle and dream together and I get to wonder some more at the man God dropped into my life, because I sure wouldn't be married yet if He hadn't been holding and moving Pete's heart to Himself.

I've known Leeann for eight years now. She's been my friend since I started collapsing with undiagnosed M.S., since we both had feelings for the same guy, since I dropped out of school and we read John together in my new office. And since I got married, she has remained my friend, has been willing to give me a chance to be me in spite of marriage, has made a friend of Pete - sometimes it freaks me out, their same sense of humor!

My sister party wasn't so much an hour for hanging out and chatting it up as it was a time to drink deeply of my appreciation for this real-life friendship that has grown through the ups and downs and ins and outs that life hands you through college and career and singleness and marriage and kids. I think I'd have appreciated it without Amber's invitation for participation - but I wouldn't have thought about it so much.

I'm not one who makes friends easily; the doors haven't exactly been thrown open in the relatively closed culture that is our new town. Oh sure, if you go to the right church, or know the right people, you can make relationships. It has been a stretching time for me, a questioning time when I'm not sure I want to be alone, a wait time for God to open doors and provide opportunity to share.

I wonder what new He may have for me in the coming year.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Piper is Cute

Told ya she likes her sunspots! And note that little curl in the shadow...





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Fresh Brew Fridays (and Other Assorted Randomnity)

You know those articles I periodically write and post here? Well, Ungrind is sick of me (just kidding) and wants to hear from you at the Ungrind blog, Fresh Brew.

Each month we dive into a new topic both on Ungrind and here at our blog, Fresh Brew. As we do, we'd love to see our readers—yes, you—more actively involved in sharing your thoughts and insights on our themes. So, we created Fresh Brew Fridays.

What exactly is a "Fresh Brew Friday"?

Take the month of September, for example. All month long, we are discussing friendship. As we do, we want to hear your thoughts and stories on what friendship looks like in your life. Next month, we'll be looking at what it means to be authentic. Again, we want to hear from you on this.

To find out more about how to get involved in Fresh Brew Fridays, click over to Fresh Brew for a chance to have your theme post republished at Fresh Brew.

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Don't miss Serena Woods' "Joy" post from this week. This from a woman who truly knows Grace.

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Good News! I'm actually headed out of town today. I'll be staying with my parents, who finally got their Certificate of Occupancy this week, and I won't have Internet access until they get it, which could be later, rather than sooner, depending on how things work out.

I'll be back Monday, Sept. 14th. Browse around the Archive, if you like!

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Isn't this just the cutest look ever? Pip doesn't like to watch Cinderella that often, but she gets the concept and how it translates to her life. The raggedy clothes, the shorts on her head (huh?), the floor mop... Drama, drama. I love it. We're off to see Uncle Kate, and she's happy as a clam about that today. In between her I-didn't-sleep-last-night fits. Did you know, those are contagious?

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P.S. If you like Amber at The Run Amuck, vote for her blog here!






(Piper Image © Informal Moments Photography)
(Fresh Brew Fridays Image © Ungrind.org)

umbrella

We will do rain-type things today and tomorrow, I think. We should bake apple pie and some cookies - the molasses kind, with the cloudy-day, almost-holiday spices - and have tea and coffee in the evenings after warm dinners by lamplight. We'll read stories during the day, and watch movies with seasons in them, and I will miss the snow we haven't seen in a few years, and I will wish for a 30-degree drop in temperature.

I might get it, too, if my parents get into their house this week, for we'll be heading north to load a truck for my sister and help her move down to help them too. I'll have to stop for real apple cider at our favorite road stand, so P and I can sneak an evening moment on my parents' new porch with warm spice and cool Virginia air and imagine what life would be like in the real-autumn with two little ones running and playing in the fallen leaves we knew in our childhoods. I might take pictures.

I'll stay 'til the weekend to help my mom and plug holes and arrange furniture and build baby-endurance for December, making sure to take lots of mental Christmas notes. And after help, P will come for me and we'll ride home together and start another week here, chipping away at the must-be-finished and figuring out meals.

We don't really have a plan, only a fly-by-the-moment idea that we'll get to make some special memories if we live and leave the strategic planning to God. It's different. I think it is making it easier for me to get things done. I always do better with little projects instead of large ones and looming deadlines.

There is thunder rumbling low outside my window now, barometric pressure creaking my joints and making me wish for sleep. The down time is good for me today. I am grateful. In spite of our canceled/postponed vacation.

I find myself content to wait.

See what happens.

Because I think He is revealing some of His work this morning.

Yesterday

She wasn't ready, nineteen years old and her life still packed in a mover's truck, waiting for permission to live for a night in a room of her own. She wasn't ready, registered and auditioned, dreading exams, wishing away three other roommates in too little space and a three-person bunk so she could hide and cry over the bigness of it all, so she could stop and imagine that what she said wasn't too much, that she was funny and real and accepted just as she was. She wasn't ready to be so strong; she wanted to go home.

And in her I saw me, turning away from the window as Mom doubled over in the car while Dad drove her states away with all my younger siblings tagging along behind, wondering what their own journey would be. I turned, and I swallowed the lump I'm still swallowing, taking back the goodbye I couldn't say anyway, turning around and meeting people and cracking jokes too loudly that weren't even funny to me.

I saw me, nine years later, remembering me then, standing second-time pregnant in a dorm full of girls who didn't know me from Jane, who wondered if I was one of them, because I looked young enough to live there and old enough to know what I was talking about. I no longer cared what they thought; I'd lived their fears, been beaten by their fears, dropped out and found what it means to live.

So I hugged her goodbye, told her to call if she needed me, let her know we were near enough and she was wanted, and left her to parent-goodbyes she wasn't ready to say. I walked back to my husband's heart-home and my little girl, aching and praying and feeling for her, remembering my own first day, wondering how she will remember hers, hoping she will know what I didn't then, that ready or not, her God will not abandon her as I once thought He might abandon me.

Again, I swallowed the lump in my throat for this second sister leaving the child behind, praying the too-much-hurt away from woman she'll become, wishing I'd loved her more and better, leaving her with Him.





(image from emilina at sxc)

"What, Trust Him?"

I've been here before, asking Him where He is, why He doesn't change things, why He allows things. I've been here for me, and for strangers, and for people I love.

Why do the nations rage,
And the people plot a vain thing?
The kings of the earth set themselves,
And the rulers take counsel together,
Against the LORD and against His Anointed, saying,
“Let us break Their bonds in pieces
And cast away Their cords from us.”

- Ps. 2:1-3

I know why they rage. I know why I have wanted to set myself against Him as they do. I feel I have some right to demand His acquiescence to my ideas of life, my boxed-God concept of who He is. I weep with it:

LORD, how they have increased who trouble me!
Many are they who rise up against me.
Many are they who say of me,
“There is no help for him in God.”

- Ps. 3:1-2

Why would He let Himself seem so weak? Why must He always work beneath the surface, in ways we cannot know or see or speak or predict or understand? Why does knowing Him hurt so much sometimes?

But You, O LORD, are a shield for me,
My glory and the One who lifts up my head.
I cried to the LORD with my voice,
And He heard me from His holy hill.

- Ps. 3:3-4

A shield to block enemy blows, or a shield for my eyes, to keep me from understanding until all I do understand is that He is God and I am not? He hears; sometimes He does not move when I want Him to move.

I lay down and slept;
I awoke, for the LORD sustained me.

- Ps. 3:5

Waking. Still breathing. Still sustained. I almost don't wish to be. I almost wish away His help. The waiting is interminable today. This vortex-reality is only partially mine, a growing horror, crushing helplessness. When anything that can go wrong does go wrong without heavenly intervention, when my eyes have no proof of the salvation-God my heart knows is still good, I breathe hopefully, and then I scream, and I remember.

I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people
Who have set themselves against me all around.

Arise, O LORD;
Save me, O my God!
For You have struck all my enemies on the cheekbone;
You have broken the teeth of the ungodly.
Salvation belongs to the LORD.
Your blessing is upon Your people

- Ps. 3:6-8

And blessing doesn't always look like finished houses and lucrative jobs. It doesn't always look like daring rescues and thornless existence.

How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever?
How long will You hide Your face from me?
How long shall I take counsel in my soul,
Having sorrow in my heart daily?
How long will my enemy be exalted over me?

Consider and hear me, O LORD my God;
Enlighten my eyes,
Lest I sleep the sleep of death;
Lest my enemy say,
“I have prevailed against him”;
Lest those who trouble me rejoice when I am moved.

- Ps. 13:1-4

Consider and hear. Your reputation is on the line here, God. You clothe lilies. You care for sparrows. Why these daily sorrows, weighing more and more?

So I find my love limited by what I can see. If I was God, I would... but I am not. Eternal God, God with no beginning and no end, He is wise to me, to my ways. I must seem very small and weak to Him, when I am weeping over today unaware of His tomorrow-knowledge.

I would take of His bounty without apology, unconscious of my own offense, too offended by His God-ness, nearly blinded to His compassion for me. I do not want to trust; it is my right to withhold me from Him. Perhaps to punish Him, trick Him, manipulate Him to my perspective.

Yet I am naked without Him to clothe me. I am not so powerful as I wish to be. I'm not enough to sway Him. I am not God.

I practically throw my self up into Him now, "here, take it, You want this?" and I throw my loved ones into Him too, though He has held them all along, working heart-work with His God-patience, revealing Him to them in ways I do not know.

But I have trusted in Your mercy;
My heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD,
Because He has dealt bountifully with me.

- Ps. 13:5-6

My heart shall rejoice. Future tense. More than I can believe in this moment. I will sing to the Lord. Tears and rage and childish petulance falling out into praise of Him. A promise. He will not leave His work in me unfinished.

He does not abandon those He loves. He is near, if I will but be with Him, rest with Him.

a prayer need

Last night, I talked with my mom, and discovered an urgent need for prayer.

My parents have been building a house, their last house, their home house. The pre-built house was delivered over a month ago, but the finishing process has resulted in a fiasco. They were told they would have a Certificate of Occupancy two weeks ago, then last week, then this week, so they gave their notice at their rental and hired movers to pack them up and get them out and into their new home.

Only as of last night, they STILL didn't have that C of O. Because the plumber didn't want to drive out to do his contracted work. Because of this, and that, and the other thing. My parents (and four of my siblings) are sleeping on the porch. The garage is packed with their stuff, and they've no place to put the contents of the third truck coming today unless...

Pete and I are leaving town today to go help load my sister's stuff up and move it down on Monday. But there is no place for anyone to sleep, or to put things. If we go, I won't be back until Monday, September 6th, since Piper and I will be staying up in VA to help as we can.

At this point, my parents really need to see God's hand moving on their behalf.
Please pray, if you will. They are so weary.

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UPDATE: It appears that my parents will not be able to get their C of O until Tuesday at the earliest. Please pray. They don't have anywhere to go right now.

a more peaceful place

I think that sometimes the heart needs a quiet place, a place unclogged with responsibilities, frustrations, demands. It is here that thoughts get sorted, understanding blossoms, faith grows. In this place, the heart learns to be, and to trust, and to live in the necessary dailiness to which we are bound by time.

It is from this place that I often write, a stolen, quiet allowance out of our daytime schedule for me. Here, the thoughts rise and fall, feelings surge into prose and poetry and find vent and I add simplicity to my day as I pour it all out in words that are sometimes published, sometimes not.

My blog has not been simple lately. Three columns and pictures and text and links and colors that just aren't where I am, who I am, what I want to be. At her blog, Emily offers "a place for the soul to breathe." Ann writes away from the noise, to "create a retreat, build a still chapel."

In the crazy of this summer, as I open my heart again to a new little life, I crave simplicity. I seek out the places that share what I know, Who I know, the safe places that build and entreat and encourage as they softly challenge. I am preparing and simplifying my life; I look for a quieter place for my heart, one that doesn't present an endless list of links, the cluttered double sidebars, the constant detraction from the words I have written and loved.

As old dreams die and new dreams come that I don't yet know, it is time to make a way for a more open space, a softer landing, a simpler place to offer the rambled thoughts that make their way onto my blog.

If you have come here from my old blogsite, I am so excited that you followed me! I hope you stay for a while. I won't be blogging there any longer, so please do change any links/shortcuts you may have for me to http://www.thisrestlesheart.com/.

My next post will mark my thousandth blog post from {this} restless heart, counting (of course) the 998 posts written at my previous site. In honor of the occasion, I'll be hosting a giveaway of some sort!

See you soon!

P.S. The comment link is hiding at the top of my posts now - in the little comment balloon up at the right!

and a little bit of Monday random

*I can't not advertise a new website that was launched today, since a lot of my favorite bloggers are a part of this 20-person team: The place is (in)courage, and they're already hosting a giveaway! I'm looking forward to seeing what happens here - check it out!

*I walked outside for a moment this morning and found I couldn't breathe out there. It's just a little disconcerting that humidity can make the air THAT thick.

*We got a new rug for our living room over the weekend. You see, our old rug has seen a bit of wear and tear in the last five years or so, what with moves and cats and kid. We'd been pricing them out and had settled for a brown one at Walmart for $78 or so (which was a savings from the $90 rug we had liked at Target). But then we found a completely different one for about $40 at Walmart, a white Berber look, and I love it. I love the $50 savings we got for waiting on that purchase too...

*I think I would be really bad at Twitter most of the time, which is why I don't have a Twitter account. Those of you who know me probably think I'm really bad at Facebook already! Sure, I think out loud during the day, but nobody seriously wants to see what I'm rambling about! I'm just not that interesting!

*I think our cat Mia weighs as much as our toddler. I'm not sure if that reflects worse on the skinny toddler or the fat cat.

*For a little while on here, I had a widget that offered pictures and links back to older posts of mine. I thought it made the blog look too cluttered, but I liked the idea. Does anyone have any opinions as to whether I should use it here or not? (You can see examples of this widget in use here and here.)

*I just kicked a sinus infection in about three days by taking a 3-tablet dose of my GNLD garlic allium complex before bed at night. Pete had this gunky thing first, and it lasted him about two weeks, with a horrid sore throat and a bad stuffy nose that went with the thick drainage behind his eyes down into his chest. I just have to say, if you want an effective antiviral/antibiotic, I have one!

*Our pediatrician has recommended both a seasonal flu shot and a swine flu vaccine for both Piper and me in order to protect the baby this year. I've never had a flu shot, and I've never been very keen on the idea of getting them. But I feel as though I should consider it this year. Does anybody have any thoughts? I'm curious about any possible side effects?

*Also, if you haven't noticed, I'm having some nesting issues here at my blog, so I hope you will pardon my dust. The seasons are switching from hot summer to hot fall and school is getting ready to start, and I always get antsy for the holidays around this time of year. We've already done everything we can afford to do to the house, so I think the blog is going to get the brunt of this nesting Mama syndrome. Also, keep your eyes open for an address change. It's time.

a piper post

She is two now, and she is packing even more personality than she has owned to this point in her little big life.

Every day, she adds new words to her conversation, parroting Mama, asking Daddy questions. She owns some phrases now, "there it/he is," "oh myyyyy goooosssshhhhh," and others that don't come immediately to mind. She invites us to come to her little "house" which sounds a little like "horse," but horse started out like "shoers," with the letters all scrambled in pronunciation. When Mom and Dad won't dance, she turns on her music (she has figured out the buttons on the stereo system now) and grabs Nanook (or the broom) for a spin in our dining-room-turned-music-room-future-nursery.

My skinny girl loves to eat, all the time, it seems. She visits Mama in my new kitchen office often between meals for snacks, requesting "petz" (pretzels), or "bulle" (apple), or "choc" (which we all know is chocolate). Yesterday's game was her bid for "more choc," and she playfully challenged my "no, you already had some" with a hand-grabbing, "come on, come on, come on!" The goofy plea was accompanied by a mischievous grin I didn't know she had.

Piper is a re-arranger, beginning with the rearrangement of our lives at her birth and insistent growing neediness, continuing with a curiously genetic disposition to rearrange her toys and furniture all over the house. I think this comes by way of her mother, and her mother's mother, and her father's mother. We have a daily pick-up session, and she is learning to help now.

And she is helping! This week, she performed helpful errands for us - bringing Uncle Kate to Mama in the other room (via telephone) when Dad sent her, and cheerfully visiting the kitchen to grab a water bottle for me after I had sat down in the living room without one.

She loves pictures ("pics") and DVD's ("DD!" "Di DD" - different DVD - "Go Go!" - which means Baby Van Gogh) and "books" and "colors." She "reads" sometimes, pointing to letters in no particular order or accuracy - "E! O! D! C!" I'm not sure she knows many letters past "K," but we're working on it. She counts UP to two, and down from three, which fascinates me, because she knows five, six, and seven separately.

I hear her voice learning to sing and speak the songs and language I know, and I wonder how her thoughts will come together as she grows even more, what she will question, how she will answer. She is learning to play by herself, and I watch sometimes, trying to remember what I played when I was her age, wondering about her world the way she wonders about mine.

She is so alive. When we go out, she is always noticed for her pure exuberance. She carries a vibrance around with her that both exhausts and delights.

Already, Piper is more than I can record, smarter than I can ably describe. I look at her and I wonder how she was ever so tiny as to be kicking around inside me as Button is doing now. I almost miss that small, but as I watch her becoming the person she is meant to be, I don't cling to what was. She was never mine, not really. God gave me the one who needed my love, His love in me, the releasing, freeing, growing love that would let her one day love Him.

So we watch and enjoy and live with her and around her. She has become more than a baby to fill our arms. She is a person, a dynamic, passionate little person who already brings so much to the world. What a good and perfect gift she is to us.

By the way...

Have you ever wondered what happens when you leave your car running while you're filling up the gas tank?

The answer: Absolutely nothing, thank God.

At least the one time we have done it.

During our trip to Northern VA this last weekend, we stopped to fill up my sister's gas tank before Pete and Piper and I flew out.


Kate, who was driving, pulled up, put the car into Park, and forgot that it was on as she flipped the tank open for Pete to fill up. Just as he was finishing, we realized the car was still running.

And we Hadn't. Blown. Up.

Phew.

NOTE: This is not something we plan to repeat in order to verify our result through scientific experimentation.

(But my passive/aggressive husband did satisfy yet another of his really-should-be-impossible lifelong dreams. The Kate/Pete combination can get kinda risky sometimes. I know you're not supposed to try to change your spouse after you get married, but I really am trying to encourage him to tap into a survival instinct. I know it must be in there, somewhere...)

A Fambly Member

It has taken me a while to pull out the camera and photograph our newest family member, Nanook (of the North, as christened by Sir Peter on the hottest day of the year. He has since rechristened her "Turd Face" for his private venting purposes.).

She is a long, lanky thing, scrawny and feisty and completely incorrigible. She came to us very tiny, only four or five weeks old, I think, and quite full of fleas. The fleas are gone now, but she hasn't lost those wonderful white whiskers over her dark face as she has grown.

Mia is a kinder, sweeter cat now that she has company. Nanook has replaced Piper as the recipient of Mia's playful urges, and most mornings we wake to the sound of the cats running from one end of the house to the other, having jolly great fun. I think Mia was homesick for her sister, and she is happier with a friend. She is also about three times Nanook's size, which made her skittish antics around the kitten down right hilarious when we first brought Nanook home.

I've been meaning to post something about the kitten for a while, but I am just now getting my steam back to return to normal. Just in time for a very busy month of travel and processing and shooting and appointments. This is me, hoping I will find time to rest!

Georgiana Rose

Well, my brother has done it again! Well, I guess it was a joint effort, since his wife kinda did it.

Whatever the case, this sweet little girl with the pretty name arrived on Thursday morning at 6:50 a.m., after a four-hour labor. She weighed in at a little bit over 8 lbs. I'm so bummed that I can't hold her from here - all I can do is look at the picture and ooh and ah and coo and do all those things that women do when we're completely taken with a baby...

I've been waiting on a picture and a name (she didn't have one for about 24 hours because she didn't look like a Charlotte Anne!) so I could show her off! I probably won't get to meet her until she's a few months old... *sigh*

Welcome to the world, little girl, and congratulations, Josh and Krys!