a piper post - adventures

Pip and I have been having adventures lately. I grab my camera, she grabs her shoes and mine, and we head outside to get out of the house while the baby naps and I don't have to hold him.

I have determined that spending more time with her does not, in fact, lessen the amount of trouble she finds. But time together is good, and the sun is good, and even the un-mowed lawn is good. She loves to play, and just runs in circles and chatters away about life and things that matter to her.

Everyone, even her pediatrician, is amazed at her verbal ability. But I'm not. She's a little adult. She thinks things way beyond her years. She always has.


She's still a little girl, though, still wants to be the baby - the only baby. She regards Bredon with a certain amount of detachment, because she is smart enough to know that he is getting attention she wants.

Our times together are at least speaking to that.

She cracks me up.

This is her, ignoring my "smile!"


Yesterday afternoon, the neighbor boy visited, a five-year-old creeping toward us three feet at a time, intimidated by me after my visit to his mom for his picking on our cat through the window screen, intimidated by Piper for her being a girl - a friendly and talkative girl.

He finally made it to the corner of our driveway, where I was sitting, holding the baby (the depression was bad yesterday, very bad - so we were sitting in the sunlight). Piper had noticed him, and went over to talk to him. Boy did she talk. He didn't say much - just tossed grass at her that he'd pulled up.

Then he disappeared around the corner of the garage.

A few minutes later, he reappeared. Piper ran over to talk to him again, and I saw him toss something else at her.

Was that...? Oh wow.

It was a little pink flower he'd picked. And he had more in his hand. He watched her for her response.

My clueless girl leaned over, picked grass, and threw it back at him.

He tore back into his yard, leaving me giggling internally at their interaction.


I can't get enough of her lately, it seems. She and I do things differently, and we both want to do them our way when we do them together. We're learning our way around each other; I'm learning her independence, and she's learning my authority.

And sometimes, we hit it just right, and she comes running with an "I love you very much, Mommy," and I have an "I love you too" for her - no strings attached.


(Images © Informal Moments Photography)

how does He love me?

Piper is two and a half now. Almost three.

If you have had children, you know what this means. If you have had an independent, spunky, first-born child, you know what this means.

She has a mind of her own - and it runs contrary to everything in my mind. There is a certain measure of predictability in her reactions: she throws a fit over everything. Even the love I try to offer.

The rejection of my love - even from a two-year-old - hits me deep. Really, really deep. Every time Piper pitches a fit at me, I shut down a little more. I grow harder. I push her away.

I respond out of fear and anger. So much anger. I want to train her like a dog sometimes, pick her up, rub her nose in what she has done, over and over, because that is the way it washes over me, the things that can't be fixed.

I don't want to give her grace. And mercy? She still needs consequences.

Because God is a God of judgment. And by the law came the knowledge of sin. And all the sorries in the world don't make things better.

And I HATE THAT I THINK THAT.

But I think it about me too.

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)

no kissin'!

I needed to take a photo for the day. I was fresh out of self-portrait ideas, so I headed into the bedroom, where Pete was reading Piper her bedtime story while I finished my puttering.

The result was perfect - Pip ducked out of the shot with a contrary "no kissin'!" and told the story in blur and funny.

I could not resist this one this week.

...

Thinkin' it's gonna be photo week here at the blog. I'm doing some work over at my photography site, putting together a few ideas and updating the site links in preparation to go off my maternity leave.

...

My friend Emily at Chatting at the Sky hosts a weekly "noticing" party - giving us a chance to unwrap and share the little gifts (and the big ones!) God gives to us in the midst of our dailiness.

Do you have a gift to unwrap today? Stop on by and link up with Emily, and share in the (mostly) paperless unwrapping!





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Monday Recap

My sister's in town. We had an awesome day trip on Saturday. She took pictures for me. This is one. All of us together.

We've got to make a habit of this...





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Love Stories: God and Me, Part V

For when we were still without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

- Romans 5:6-8

God never had to prove His love to me. When you are Love itself, I suppose simple existence is enough. I Am, He calls Himself to Moses. Even I can't explain the depth of who I am.

Some things you just have to know.

...

I was in the dark again.

This time it was postpartum depression. It was financial stress. It was months of processing backlog. It was Pete not passing the Bar.

It was me trying to live without God.

My prayers were falling flat. I tamped down my desire. I grabbed hold of every gift I'd been given, refusing to open my hands and my heart to Him. To give Him place in my life to say "no."

To my understanding, there was nothing different about living my life with God than there was living without Him. Nothing except dashed hopes and expectations I couldn't meet.

There were things I didn't say then to anyone, but in my heart, I was building my case against God. I felt betrayed. Brokenhearted. I wanted to pay Him back.

...

Pete had retaken the Bar in February, 2008. Our financial limitations had driven us two houses from the home I loved, the home where we spent our wedding night, the home where I had my first baby.

I couldn't settle anywhere. I pushed Pete and Piper away from my heart, weeping silent in quiet dark hours, knowing God made no guarantees, knowing that I had lost deep once - nothing would stop me from losing again. I couldn't love and lose again.

My health had taken another turn downhill. The lack of sleep after Piper's birth (she didn't sleep through the night for two years) was too much for my system, and my depression cycled downward with the return of the collapsing and convulsions.

His whispers were the familiar broken record "I love you."

Yeah right, God. Sure You do.

...

Pete passed the Bar, and his office hired his replacement under him. He was working as a floating assistant for several different attorneys - too much work for too little money. We were looking for jobs in California; nothing was coming. I ate the stress, retreated deeper into my shell.

Our house didn't have any light. I hated it. I hated me there. I hated everything.

I refused to pray.

A job opportunity opened up in Charleston. He pursued it. Interviewed via phone the day after he'd queried back. Flew down for an interview a couple of days later. By the end of the week, he had an offer.

And it was too low for us to accept.

...

I was trapped.

When Pete called me to tell me the offer was too low, I clawed at the strictures of my life. I hung up on Pete when he tried to talk to me about God after telling me the news. I remember screaming into the woods around our house, looking into the trees and asking God where He was, if He bothered to care about me.

I remembered His "I love you."

Love?

No, He was God. He was going to do what He was going to do. He wanted me to lay down my life for Him, and guaranteed nothing in return. Nothing but Himself. I wanted to spit on His offer. Why would I want Him?

I told Pete that I was done with God. I couldn't un-believe His existence; it was the only thing that made sense. But I was as close as I had ever been to hating Him. I didn't want to have anything to do with Him. I didn't want Him to use me anymore. I felt manipulated and betrayed and... dead.

God didn't care about me. And if He did, I didn't want it.

He was nothing more than a concept to me. A concept I was supposed to believe. A concept that was supposed to change my life.

...

A day later, Pete was given a second job offer. We were moving, in a week's time. Our landlord flipped out. The landlord who had been okay with our five-times-telling-him that Pete was between jobs and we might need to break our lease. The landlord I'd respected and liked. The landlord I'd hand-picked to stop the freak-out from happening.

I succumbed to the shock and anger that day.

I screamed at God. Screamed and screamed and screamed. The events of the last several years, the bottled anger, the disappointment, the sense of betrayal, the obligation I had felt to be godly, my constant sense of shame, the repeated "I love you" in the face of my fear of loss - I threw it all up at Him with all the passion I possessed. I shook my fist at Him from my knees. I shook both fists.

And I curled into a ball and wept.

It was like a defibrillator. My deadened heart was shocked back into life and everything I had shut down and pushed poured out into real again. I dumped all that I had been holding against Him out that day. My case was big enough to convict Him of not loving me now.

...

Pouring my heart out before the Lord left me empty. Clean. My accusations had been flung at Him. My anger had finally been spent. Giving voice to my complaint against Him had freed me from it.

The next day in the car, I quietly tried to apologize to Him for my anger, embarrassed over my loss of control.

He surprised me with His response. "You were in pain."

All that anger, and that was what He got?

It was like He hadn't been listening. It was as if He hadn't heard. It was as if He had been with me in it all along, aching with me, dying with me, waiting for me to bring it into His love.

...

I had nothing left to hold against God. I spent the next months waiting, quiet, learning my dust, learning His Godness.

We moved to Charleston; I didn't like the house we moved to, but there was light here. The depression wasn't so bad as it had been. I began to give shy thanks for His provision.

Pete was home more than he had been. His commute was ten minutes long instead of forty. We got a chance to be a family, to get to know one another again.

I didn't say much about God. I listened. I filled my time with pictures; a Flickr addiction came and went; I learned what exactly it meant that Jesus had died for me.

...

It was morning. I can't tell you the date. I can just tell you the way the morning sun came through the window at the house I didn't much like. I had my camera, but I didn't photograph it.

It came deep, still, like a breath into the core of my soul.

God loves me.

You know how they always say that when you fall in love with someone, you "just know" you were meant for each other? I always hated that. I always wanted the explanation, the how, the why.

But it's true. The deepest love can't be defined, because God Himself is Love, because He is infinite, because He has no beginning and no end, because He is Beginning and End.

God loves me.

I just knew.

...

Once upon a time, in a time before time, a perfect, holy God loved me. Before I existed, before I knew I needed Him, He made a way for me to know His love.

I ask Piper when we go to sleep together if she knows who loves her. She gives her answer: "God loves you, and Jesus loves you, and Mama loves you, and Daddy loves you, and Uncle Kate loves you and Mickey Mouse loves you..."

He sent His Son Jesus, God-in-flesh, to be broken for me, to wear my dust, to be my sin so that I could wear His righteousness and approach Him in His holiness to obtain mercy.

I ask Piper if she knows how we know God loves her. She doesn't yet, but I tell her: "Jesus died for you." She doesn't know what that means yet.

This great God who loved me sealed my heart with His Spirit for the day that Jesus will come for me, to bring me finally into His presence to be one with Him.

I wonder what Piper's love story will be; how will God teach her heart His love for her? I can't wish my story on her; I can't wish away His love.

Now I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. Also there was no more sea. Then I, John, saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from heaven saying, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people. God Himself will be with them and be their God. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”

Then He who sat on the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new.” And He said to me, “Write, for these words are true and faithful.”

And He said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. I will give of the fountain of the water of life freely to him who thirsts. He who overcomes shall inherit all things, and I will be his God and he shall be My son

- Revelation 21:1-7

And they will live happily ever after.

...

Love Stories: God and Me, Part I
Love Stories: God and Me, Part II
Love Stories: God and Me, Part III
Love Stories: God and Me, Part IV

...

On Thursdays in February (because I never know quite what to post on Thursdays), I was writing out my love story. Not the one about my crushes or my first love or even my love for Pete - though those stories all play a part. Bonnie Gray at Faith Barista and Holley Gerth at (in)Courage challenged us to write out our God love stories, and I had one to share.

This is my last official installment on this particular series. More love stories to come, though, as inspiration hits... Thanks for sticking with me.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

I'm doing the mommy thing today...

And I'm a little short on words. Thought I'd share my new desktop background. It's worth a couple thousand, I should think.

And have a song about them too: Bubbly, by Colbie Caillat





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Love Stories: God and Me, Part IV

There was still the matter of the vow.

I hadn't made it lightly. And I had made it to God - a God of whose love I was no longer certain.

The months after the hospital passed under a cover of grace, grace I recognize in the looking back, seeing now the fear that stalked me then.

Pete's and my friendship deepened; I sought God with him, co-teaching a Sunday School class for the teens at our church. My pursuit of Him was rote, something I knew to do, something I'd always done.

I tried not to think about my friend, about the outstanding question of his return to me. I tried not to hope - for his return, for the return of my health, for anything at all. After several years of unresolved health issues I knew this: God was sovereign, and He would do what He wanted, regardless of my desire.

...

God told Pete to ask Him for me.

Not in the "ask Me so that I have the place to tell you no" sense. In the "ask Me for a sign and I will give it to you" sense.

So Pete obeyed and asked and fell in love with me.

I was not in love with him. But I knew I was no longer in love with my friend either. That wasn't something I shared with anyone. Not even with God. The inside jokes I'd shared with Him earlier in my story were over, the ready trust, the easy surrender, the passion behind my vow, the vow that kept me from returning Pete's love. The vow that depended on God's work in the heart of my friend.

Work that wasn't happening.

...

Christmas came. Questions about our friendship had arisen for both Pete and me. His family didn't know what to do with our relationship. They counseled him strongly against it; he shared his heart with his dad. His dad prayed.

My parents couldn't understand why I was still holding out for my friend's return. I explained the vow I had to keep. I told Dad that I'd shared the vow with him, that he hadn't said anything, that because of it, I was bound to it, for the sake of keeping the vow to the Lord.

My dad stared. "I never heard you. And if I had, there is no way I would have said you should keep it."

Humbling words. Frightening words. Freeing words.

...

I spent the New Year at a bed and breakfast retreat Pete had given me for Christmas. I intended to pull out my Bible and repeat the last year's New Year retreat - Genesis through Job seeking and discovering God. Pete figured if I found Him, he'd never see me again.

My heart wasn't in it. After my dad's words to me releasing me from my vow, I couldn't open my Bible. I was scared to find myself that alone with God. But He was pursuing me. He was so close, I felt if I turned and looked, I would see Him.

I ran.

I rented a movie. Hit two rental places looking for a VCR on which to watch the movie. The one in my room was broken. I bought one.

I didn't make it back to the bed and breakfast to hook the thing up and turn on the movie before He caught me in the dark of my car, so present, so real I couldn't escape Him.

"What do you want?" I remember asking Him, a little annoyed, a little afraid, gutsy enough to be the one to speak first, take the bull by the horns.

He didn't say anything. Not yet. I could feel Him looking at me, the pointed kind of look that says, "are you actually serious, asking Me that? You know."

I tried leaving Him in the car. Went inside. Set up the VCR. Put the movie in.

Turned it off.

"What do you want?"

It was Him this time, asking me.

...

Pete and I were married in October, 2005.

I had been freed from my first vow to make a new one, but I'd not been freed from my fear. I clutched Pete almost wildly to myself, waiting for the ball to drop, waiting for the inevitable loss that I was sure must come if I loved anything or anyone too much.

God wanted all of me. After I'd admitted my love for Pete to Him, I dived for cover, and He let me go, for a time. Let me live. During my first year of marriage, He spoke still and small His "I love you," over and over and over.

I acknowledged. "Yeah, God. I know."

"I love you."

...

Piper was born in July, 2007. A year of "I love you" culminated in faith to cling to Him during her birth.

I was ready to move on with life. I figured it was time to start growing spiritually again. Trying to find God again. Trying to love Him again. Which meant laying down my life for Him. And figuring out what it meant to lay down my life. I wanted to get to the "life abundant" on the other side of that "nevertheless."

Somehow, I thought I might be able to manage it without letting Him into my heart again. Without being so vulnerable as I had been. Without facing the fear that held me captive.

Somehow I thought I could lay down my life for Him without Him.

...

Love Stories: God and Me, Part I
Love Stories: God and Me, Part II
Love Stories: God and Me, Part III


...

On Thursdays in February (because I never know quite what to post on Thursdays), I was writing out my love story. Not the one about my crushes or my first love or even my love for Pete - though those stories all play a part. Bonnie Gray at Faith Barista and Holley Gerth at (in)Courage challenged us to write out our God love stories, and I had one to share.

It's been on hold for a couple of weeks, and here we are in March with what should have been the final post - but I discovered this morning that it won't be the final post. There is too much more that I cannot share today.

Thanks for your patience. More to come next Thursday.






(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Piper's Pipings

Piper is talking now. BOY she is talking now. I can finally start my toddler talks collection!

...

Her Monday night babysitter asked Pete about her increased use of "verbal aggression." We looked at each other and laughed.

"Scat; get out of here!" is a frequently-used expression around here. Our cats are very bad. (Well, cat, now. Nanook squeezed out of the garage during the week we were away. I think she is happier as an outdoor cat now. We are seeking a replacement - perhaps a puppy? Mia wouldn't know the difference...)

...

Yesterday, I was out (yes, out - I went shopping with the two yesterday and enjoyed most of it immensely!), and got stuck for two cycles at a left-turn light (seriously, they fall asleep at the wheel here at the first sign of warmth!). When the light turned green for a third time, I honked my horn and the driver in front of me finally moved. I wasn't too put out, since B was sleeping, but as I turned, I heard a little annoyed voice behind my seat on repeat:

"Stupid car. Stupid car. Stupid car."

Yeah, we think the drivers down here are baaaaad...

...

Last night at dinner, Piper decided she didn't want to eat her sausage. Instead of a simple "no," she opted for a re-route with a shocked "Oh my GWRACIOUS!!!" She topped off the effect with her hands over her mouth in feigned horror.

I think my mom might get the credit for that one.


This morning, I was puttering in my office when Piper came tearing down the hall with one of her two stuffed Minnies to grab her scarf and coat from the doorknob where they were hanging temporarily.

"We gotta find Mickey - and fast!" (Mickey went to work with Pete this morning, having been left overnight in the car.)

"We gotta rescue him!"

...

My favorite of the week came last evening while we were waiting to pick Pete up from work:

"Shweetie," Piper said from the back seat, "I'm gonna help you..."

Oh how sweet, I thought. Then she finished her ramble.

"Shweetie, I'm gonna help you find a mouse!"

Say WHAAAA?








(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Something About Good

I've had so much time to think recently, and not so much time to process my thinking, to bring my scattered thoughts to real. But something is coming clear, something about inadequacy, my own God-gifted inadequacy.

The only solid thing that comes to me is this: that God has been very good to me and I have not deserved His goodness.

It is something about having a child whose high needs I can never fully meet. Something about her needing God too - for life, for help, for love, for discipline. It something about a place to begin teaching her of His care for her.



It is something about letting go, and about holding on, an almost-wish that these young, small days would last longer because I cannot get close enough to the smiles, the cooing, the giggles, the uncertainty, the pleas for time with Mama that will just never be enough.



This something is about a really big God. A really, really big God whose wrath is overpower, whose wrath will one day drive those who hate Him to curse His name without repentance. It is something about being held by this God, something about a strong love, eyes that burn like fire, a King on a white horse, a Gospel and a testimony that draws my eyes upward, outward, into Him who is Spirit and not like me.

Have I made Him too small in my need to justify myself, my life, my inadequacy?


It is my inadequacy that teaches me to embrace His power. It is my empty that begs His full. It is my dust that requires His glory.

I see so well where I have failed and where I must not fail. I try so hard to perfect myself, to be unbroken, to do the right thing every time. It is too much for me. I will never be enough. Not for this loving of my children, not for this serving of my powerful God. I can never cover all my bases.

If not for Christ, I would be destroyed. This something I cannot quite describe is at once terrible and comforting. It goes beyond all I have ever known, lives in a realm I cannot finger or photograph, draws me from the daily into the eternal and helps me trust a Person who provided for my redemption from this body of sin.

The uncontrollable pain I own in child-bearing, the transition and change in life that sends me spinning out of my comfort zone, the unrequited longing I know for my husband, time slipping through my fingers like so much sand - these are the gifts of His goodness to me, the painful, beautiful etchings of life under Adam redeemed in Jesus.


I cannot pretend to understand.

I can only be overwhelmed. Only offer up my thanks, wordless thanks that is more than emotion, that draws all of me up into Him, that bows me down before Him, and the eyes of my heart wonder beyond the dim reflection at the mystery that will be no more one day when I behold Him.

I can only taste this goodness that I will never be enough to earn.

...

Shared in the blog carnival hosted at Bridget Chumbley's One Word at a Time today.





(Images © Informal Moments Photography)

Oh Halp...

All this while I was changing B's diaper just now. She was in the same room. My back was turned.

Now I'm just staring.

I don't quite believe she did it.

What do ya do? I mean, really?

I so need back-up today...





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Even in Between - One Thousand Gifts

I honestly don't know when you'll get this, he wrote three years ago, while we were waiting for Piper, when he was leaving for another conference, when we couldn't spend time together that we wanted to spend.

This afternoon. Or tomorrow. Or maybe next week...

He gave it to me yesterday, sealing the envelope that had been waiting three years for his kiss, presenting it to me in the midst of our hardest, busiest, most telling season yet.

He gave it now, two babies into our life with children, with stress at home and at work, with a move coming up next weekend and the new house unfinished, with sickness cycling through and two houses to clean, with other responsibilities and financial concerns - there is no time for us.

There wasn't then, either.

He handed it to me; I thought I saw tears in his eyes.

This is our love, he said. Look at the date.

Three years ago, we knew it. Things haven't changed.

This is our love, for each other, for our little ones, for our families, for our God.

You see, time, to us, doesn't matter. We have so little time anyway...

So I am thankful for the time we have.

I cling to the precious moments together, embrace the gifts, sometimes cling too much to them, instead of to the Giver. But they are what I have of Him, or rather, what I see that I have from Him. Given in His love, they seem to be eternal, and my spirit responds outside of time, for one can always be grateful.

*101 - My sweet flower girl, who thinks all the flowers we bring home are for her. She loves to smell them, even if they have no fragrance at all.

*102 - Playtime and toddler stories made up

*103 - Hug requests

*104 - "I'm sorry" to soften my angry heart.

*105 - Trouble to make me laugh in spite of my horror

*106 - Deviled eggs made with daddy - the best we've had in a long time

*107 - Words strung together in grown-up sentences

*108 - She dresses herself to go out and play

*109 - Toddler lilt telling her story in the third person: "Piper hungry"

*110 - Giggles, the high, squeaky, shrieky "can't believe how happy I am" kind

*111 - Making story time to spend and share three times in a busy week

*112 - Tiny fingers grasping mine

*113 - Baby conversations, such sweet, soft hellos

*114 - Smiles, just for Mama

*115 - Innocent eyes that watch mine on gray days, questioning, loving, inviting me in

*116 - Laughter in work for a family photo session

*117 - A little bit extra to help with our load

*118 - Sunlight and spring, warming the month, lifting my spirits

*119 - A little work finished on life-giving projects

*120 - Broken moments together

*121 - Caring in sickness

*122 - Long, steadying embraces

*123 - Together

*124 - Toddler "mooseick", sweet and loud

*125 - Lyrics that play in the heart, that hum past my lips

*126 - God who is more than my today

For all that I miss, there is much I am given.

...


This post also linked at Holy Experience, sharing with the Gratitude Community in listing my own One Thousand Gifts.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)