resurrection - the waiting

sometimes dying is
more beautiful than
living

and sometimes it hurts.

especially because we all die
alone

until we live full in Jesus
until we are raised together with Him
until we see God.

so we die
and we live

in this hope.

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. For the earnest expectation of the creation eagerly waits for the revealing of the sons of God.

For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now.

Not only that, but we also who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body.

For we were saved in this hope, but hope that is seen is not hope; for why does one still hope for what he sees?

{ Rom. 8:18-24 }

...


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





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Again, Transition

Like labor,
the pains have been coming,
squeezing, stretching, opening
one, two, five
hours and minutes apart

and we are a little nearer to
new.

Today it comes
and I am breathing through
again

this hardest part, the beginning
of change,
the first pangs, then

the new.

I'm at twenty-some moves for my lifetime now. I've lost count and I don't have time this morning to figure it out. The Interwebs are moving first, with the phone. Then the piano. Then we hope to get the bedroom and the living room moved over so we can rest at our new house tonight.

There are some positives to having Piper prefer to sleep with us still, to having Bredon in an easily movable basket.

You all are awesome. Thank you for the comments and notes and prayers and encouragement reminding me of His love, revealing Him. How much more does my heavenly Father care for me than for the sparrows?

I don't know. But I think it is my time to learn.

We're moving today. We are almost through.

I'll be back when I can.





(Image © 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)

A Post About Piper

She's so serious here. Trying to figure out the camera with the sensation of mother-love that comes all too little lately. I borrowed her for my 365 project today.

I'm working in a self-portrait angle this year, and three days into it, I'm certain it's going to be a stretching experience. I view myself in pieces right now. There is writer-me, depressed-me, insecure-me, loved-me, mama-me, person-me. The feelings ram against each other; my stay is not in my mood.

But this is a post about Piper.

She has grown so much. I hardly believe she is two anymore. Her homeschool-mama sitter sat Pete down after fencing recently (my husband is teaching fencing again, and taking Piper with him) and told him that she is operating at a four-to-five-year-old level. This report made one rather bad day of mine a rather good day at its end.

With her growth comes an expanded capacity for trouble.

I have an aunt who reads this blog who will cringe at this next photo:


Piper destroyed my grandmother's chair yesterday. I inherited a few small things from Grandma, things I treasure more than I should probably treasure earthly possessions. They're right up there with my camera in emotional value. Probably more so. This was one of those.

I didn't know it until I went into the living room to take a little time with her and found the pieces scattered all over the floor.

And mama-time went out the window.

Because I had told her. And I know she is old enough and responsible enough to know that she was not supposed to tear the chair up.

So I yelled, as all good mad mamas do. And I spanked her. As most good mad mamas do. And I sent her to her room, because I was too angry with her to not keep yelling, and I needed a little help with my self-control.

I didn't know what to do. When love rams up into loss, how do you react? What course of action can you take?

By now the baby was hollering to be fed, so I pulled him out of his bed and nursed him, fuming, frustrated, trying to figure out how to fix the situation - not the chair, the broken relationship. The relationship I had just knocked over the foul line.

I was still fuming when I heard her door open. I steeled myself, determined to keep my quiet, as she padded into the kitchen, crying softly.

She laid her head on the arm of my desk chair, on my arm resting there, holding Bredon as I nursed.

"I'm sowwy, Mama. Sowwy, Mommy."

Now it was my turn to cry. My anger dissolved. How did she know?

I got to forgive her. And then I told her I was sorry too, for yelling, for my angry. I told her I loved her.

And she moved on.

Childlike, childish - it was okay now. She could play again.

I sat and watched her, amazed, stunned at her tender heart.

And something else caught me. She didn't doubt my forgiveness once she knew she was still loved. She received the mercy she'd asked of me.

I don't even do that when I ask it of God. I'm too busy kicking myself for needing the mercy in the first place.

Wow.


Talk about lessons in abundant living...





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

A Little Spring, On Me

I've been here at my computer most of the day. With Tweetdeck up and running.

And ya'll are COLD.

I've been working in black and white at my blog, touching up my template.

It's black and white and raining outside too.

And I'm cold.

So have a little spring, on me.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Glory - A Ramble

Spring starts in January here. I love that the warm weather doesn't wait, that we get to breathe spring while the light still carries its gorgeous winter roses around.

It's our third day sunny since our last bout with clouds. My eyes chase the light still, trying to save it, satiate myself with it.

Sometimes I think that I will miss the sun when God creates a new heaven and a new earth and lights it all up with His glory. I have never seen His glory, so I scrabble through dust after familiar beauty, beauty subjected to frustration because of me, because of Him, because of hope.

I think it will be like a smile, like waking up to my baby's happy, when his eyes light up as he sees me and he grins big. Or like saying "yes" to my Piper when she wants something special from me and her eyes dance with excitement and I miss her regular color because there are so many other colors sparking around in her deep eyes. Or like looking deep into soft, bright brown love that spills over innocent and deep and full from my husband's heart.

How can I describe light, describe glory? Words are not enough, not in any language. Perhaps aching on my knees, raising up my hands, closing my eyes, turning my head toward it to feel it, embrace it, welcome it, welcome Him...

I wonder what Jesus remembered of His glory when He came. I consider today His suffering, the dust He walked in, the dust He became, the dust He loved in loving us. He traded glory for sunlight and moonlight, for sorrow, for fellowship in our lives here.

How homesick He must have been, acquainting Himself so intimately with our grief.

Becoming like Him means becoming less, but not in the way we think it, not in the way we try to shut us down and ward us off in pursuit of His perfection. Becoming less - it means imitating Him, turning away from our own familiar light, choosing dust, choosing human, letting God be God - embracing the weight of His glory in our weakness, in our foolishness.

I think I can see it in my heart sometimes when I am broken, every knee bowing before Jesus, the Son of Man who is the Son of eternal God - who set aside His glory, who made Himself nothing, who humbled Himself before us - US! - and died. Eternal God chose death and died like us, died for us, bearing all the weight of all our griefs and sins and sorrows.

Even He knelt before God and asked not to bear it, but "Your will, Father, not Mine..."

I learn to yield. I learn that obedience results not from subjection or domination but comes by way of submission, by way of humbling, by way of opening my empty up to Him, offering my vessel-dust to be filled with glory.

Sometimes I think I'll miss the sunlight. But I have a feeling I won't notice its absence for looking at Jesus.

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death—
even death on a cross!

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

- Phil. 2:5-11

(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

We Are Bad Parents

Piper didn't bond with a blankie. She quit the binky on her own by the time she was five months old. Nothing would do for her except Mom and Dad.

Until Minnie Mouse.

Piper's Grandpa Sauer brought her a pink-outfitted Minnie Mouse back from Disney World last year. I was somewhat standoffish to the toy - my sister was a Mickey Mouse fan, and I simply hated the non-classic cartoon clutter in our shared bedroom that I really wanted to be more of a designer room. (Had to get that dig in, Sis... *snarky look*)

To my relief, Piper pretty much ignored Minnie too, until she became a fan of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, which plays twice in the mornings on Playhouse Disney.

Suddenly, she started trucking around the house carrying Minnie with her. Talking to her. Asking to dress like her. Taking her to bed with her and tucking her in. Buckling her into the high chair so she can eat. Going through the house calling her name as she tries to find her.

AND WE, THE BAD PARENTS, ABANDONED MINNIE YESTERDAY.

It was an accident. I promise. We left Minnie at the midwife's - the one that is about two hours away. The visit that was supposed to be our last visit out there.

But it wasn't just that. We left our baby folder out there too - the one with all the paperwork for Button's birth. And we didn't remember either until we were driving home by a different route at about 9:30 last night.

They say having kids destroys brain cells. I'm thinking that's probably not an excuse.

I'll be on the road today, searching for Minnie.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

escape

still eludes
in crashing
crushing
purge of rolling wave upon sand
upon shore,
in breaking stone and silver bone and wood to salted grain

breath floats away
with bird-wings
on wind mounting cool and warm
beneath wings
leaving earth behind, leaving me to

stand wishing,
hoping
believing i could
fly

if i wanted to.

(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

queries on toddler-teaching

School started in our town today. The buses were out, the children supplied and dressed and sent in by eight to be "educated" until four. Many of my friends and acquaintances have also begun their homeschooling programs over the last few weeks.

In the last few years, I've been somewhat isolated from it all, but it is closer to home now than it was. It is something to consider: how will our children learn? I'm embarrassed to admit that I really have no idea where to begin.

Even at two, Piper shows how much she wants to learn with her letter recognition (spotty though it may be), her counting (we count to five, and she insists on adding the "six!"), and her pattern recognition that has her "reading" the titles on our unboxed videos. She knows most of her colors now (pink is her favorite - those of you who know me well will appreciate the humor in this), and she has opinions on everything.

I've been contemplating the idea of using an hour or so during the day to sit and learn a little together before Button comes in December. But what will we learn? What should I teach her? I know it will look like play to me because she learns so much through play right now. I don't want it to look like another movie, another hour she has to figure out what to do with herself while Mommy tries to get work done.

I am not very good at "playing" with Piper; we both have our own ideas about the way things should be done. I am realizing that the only way for me to try to teach my daughter anything at this point is to create a space where she doesn't believe she's being "schooled." Her strong sense of her own freedom turns those pages long before she's absorbed what I am telling her is on them. Yet she is very open to stories, interested in pointing out what she knows already.

I'm not sure how to make this transition from cuddling and holding to nurturing and expanding Piper's world. I know she is only two, but I think I need some time to grow into this, to learn her a bit more, to learn me a bit more, and she is so ready and eager to take it all on.

What have you done with your little ones when they begin to learn? I'm not a natural at this like my mom was. How is helping Piper learn to be an adventure for me? Do you have any suggestions for materials I could use, ideas for activities we could do? Thoughts on dealing with a toddler who has her own ideas about life?





(image from sxc)

i hope you still feel small

when you stand beside the ocean...

Thinking about wonder. About how I'm not as thig as i bink I am. And how I can't get away with that spoonerism because I'm not my wonderful silly husband. Wishing I could be silly and not so emotionally fuddy-duddy.

Thinking about how small I am next to God and how much He is and knows and controls. Thinking about how grateful I am that His voice is still and small and not loud and harsh and destructive. Thinking I need to stop and listen more.

Remembering who I have been, wondering what I will become. Hoping for free, too tired to prioritize.

Surfacing...

i went shoe-shopping

At least one of my readers will now die of shock, I am sure. (Sorry 'bout that, Tee...)

I knew exactly what I wanted, though - a cute little pair of sandals from Clarks Bostonian Outlet that I tried on last fall at the outlet store in Northern VA. Believe it or not, this sandal had arch support - and I have terribly high arches (hence my "I hate shoe-shopping/wearing shoes at all" credo). I couldn't believe I found what I was looking for, but within five minutes of getting into the shop, I discovered that they did have it in stock, in my size, for the price... well, who cares what they cost? If I will wear them, we buy them. :-P

I've been wearing a pair of size nine hand-me-down Old Navy flip-flops for pretty much everything. It'd be enough to get me into TLC's What Not to Wear, I'm telling you. But now they can't catch me. And check out my new clothes! The white Capris are thrifted, the navy/white top was new from Ann Taylor - a first-time wearing too! - and the white cardigan was an after-Christmas sale gift from Pete. I put on makeup and did my hair this morning too. (I think I will not admit how often I have not done this lately...)

So, hurrah. I have slain the shoe beast this season. My next shopping project is a very specific white skirt for a beach self-portrait... in which I will have bare feet.