unwrapped - lifting my hands, my heart to Love

People don't give you gifts to obligate you to them; they give them to let you know how much they love you. They don't expect the thank you - they just want to know you appreciate their love.

Because giving makes them as vulnerable as receiving makes me.

This was the conversation that started me down a different road a few days ago. What he was saying, what I got out of what he said. This was the conversation that made me think about God, about my response to Him and His gifts, about how hesitant I am even to thank Him, lest He notice how much I like something and take it away from me.


Thanks that used to flow like gushing water no longer pours from my heart, but pools silent as I internalize my excitement over special things. I say everything but how much I love something, someone, Someone.

It's going to have to overflow sometime. I wonder if it does, won't I drown in it?

God's heart, my greatest gift

I was sure by now,
God, you would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say “Amen”, and it’s still raining...

As the thunder rolls,
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain,
“I’m with you.”
And as You mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I’ll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I’ve cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

-Casting Crowns, Praise You in This Storm

About that love. About that God who is God in spite of me. About my fear. About the pain that life inflicts indiscriminately. About that holding on...

So many times, in the middle of the storm, I've been here. Begging Him to speak, telling Him He should have done something by now, being good and praising Him in spite of it.

Today, I'm not in the middle of a storm, not a physical or emotional storm, not really. The sun is out, and we have some happy. I can count the gifts He has given, because I can still see them, hear them, hold them, touch them, talk with them.

But I have seen storms. I have lived through storms. Every day I encounter someone else who is walking through a storm I cannot imagine enduring. And sometimes, I can imagine it, and I begin to be afraid. I look down at the waves I've been walking on while I have been looking at Jesus, and I think, "How could He ever be enough for me to endure that?"

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)

march on june st.

All week she called to me,
but I was too afraid
I'd be intruding if I
stepped across our new street
with my camera in hand to
take her color home with me.

But Saturday morning won, and
I walked over with zoom
and trepidation,
and I captured her.

and I met a new neighbor who knew
stories of our street
once-lined with live oaks -
before Hugo pillaged them
twenty years ago. His shed
used to be in the middle
of his yard; Hugo moved
it to the fence, and his wife
had left him, but
it was amicable. a-MIC-able.
AM-ic-able. He didn't know, but
it was "okay."

The color belonged to
another neighbor, who couldn't
come to her door because she
was diabetic and had
only one leg.

And our other neighbors were quiet - except
the bigger little one, who
asks lots of questions and
scares me a little because
I don't know all the answers, and
I used to think

it didn't hurt to ask

but now I know better, so
I wish him away.

She offered me beauty
and stories
and a spring breeze I would have missed if

I had stayed inside.

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.

...

Poem written in response by L.L. Barkat's HCB prompt: "Streetwise." Drop your own into her comment box this week for links and a possible feature at High Calling Blogs.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Tuesdays Unwrapped - Grace for Two Little Hearts

"And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work."

- 2 Corinthians 9:8

I've been at my computer since about 6:15 this morning. I have started three or four different posts. And I am getting nowhere.

It is now nearly 8:00, and I've got this plan to spend my day mostly away from my computer. I have two little ones who need me a little more than they've been getting me over the last few days, and I need a reset.

Maybe a day off will help to clear my head. Because the words sure aren't coming right now.

So if you wonder where I am and where my writing went, I'm spending my grace unwrapping these two today.





...

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.






(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

This is Us

So. I had all these photos. And it was WAY too many for a post. So I made a slideshow, because I figured out how to do that now. So without further ado, I give you........ Us!



-------------------------

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.





(Images © Informal Moments Photography)

Unwrapping This Hope

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.

In Haiti, they mourn. In Darfur, they suffer. In Thailand, in China. In New York City. In our neighborhood. In our own homes. In our hearts. Sometimes, it seems the clouds can't lift. It seems there is nothing but this gray, these tears, this pain.

The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed.

In spring, expectation bursts forth, defiant buds pushing through wintered ground, daring to blossom, as if they have forgotten the heat of the summer, autumn's hazy sorrow, winter's killing chill. The sun rises after night, spreading glory over day. Joy comes in the morning.

Creation waits. We wait.

For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.

Creation captive, frustrated, waiting, groaning under the weight of God-hope. We who know, who have this inkling of His glory - we have encountered Christ, and we begin to realize redemption, reckon ourselves alive to God, stand fast in God-justified free.

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.

The earth shakes, trembling, shrieking, falling into itself and over itself, writhing in pain, knowing what we know deep - we are not what we are meant to be. The mother knows as she travails, when transition comes on strong, when she cries out for "God, God, help me, help me please!" and then her baby comes.

And so we wait, and ache, and try to hope.

For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

An unseen hope that comes by faith, that grows in every spring our hearts know, that doesn't wither in the winds of autumn or freeze in winter's chill. A certain hope that at the end of this labor, death must die, and God will birth His life again into us by His Son.

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will.

I shy away from that pain, from memory. Cling to smaller joys, try to ignore the longing. But always, it is there, in the depth of my spirit, constantly groaning, whispering of glory not my own, of God-joy, of peace that passes understanding.

Oh wonderful groaning, wonderful God who intercedes in heart-language we can't speak!

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.

The suffering,
the groaning,
the waiting,
the hope;

The God,
His plan,
His Son,
His intercession for us...

We will be what He meant us to be, and He will be glorified.

How big is this God of ours?

(A meditation on Romans 8:18-30.)

-------------------------

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)

"Happy - Sad"

Piper has a new favorite game to play with Daddy.

She'll give him an emotion to portray - "happy" or "sad" - and he hams it up until she dies laughing. The other night, I caught these between strong baby-contractions that blotted out the rest of the evening.

The "happy" in which I took these photos was exciting. We thought we were having a baby. I thought I would finally get to touch his face. The midwife thought I would get to hold him. The contractions were strong, 4-5 minutes apart, lasting 1-2 minutes. We were ready to call the midwife to come... and then everything stopped.


Yesterday's "sad" wasn't that comical.

I've been making an effort at my blog and in our home to keep things as normal as possible, trying to notice the life we are living in between, trying to hold these last few days, hours - minutes - close.

I've also chosen to be open with many of the ups and downs I'm experiencing at the end of this pregnancy. I'm sure this has left many of my friends and readers feeling as though they are on the roller coaster with us, but I have wanted to write through this, to be open with those who are praying, to have this here for myself so I remember.

I don't want to remember yesterday. Not the tears, the disappointment, the frustration, the questions, the deep, deep depression. Yesterday I hit my limit on what I could share. For the first time during this pregnancy, I was ready to slam the doors shut, beg for some privacy, tell everyone to just go away with their good wishes and their hope for pictures and good news that I. didn't. have.

For all the words that spilled out here yesterday, I felt an eerie stillness in my soul as the contractions kept coming, ten minutes apart, just as they had the day before.

Internally, I was writhing with new pain unlike the pain I'd experienced with Piper's birth. The "I can't take any more of this" that didn't hit until transition with Piper pounded me, reverberating with God's promise to Eve that she should "have pain in childbirth..."

I kept wanting to ask Him what I was doing wrong. As if I was back at that tree thinking God was holding out on me - maybe if I just knew what He knew, I could get to Him faster so I could...

And there I was, exposed.

My "I delivered one child" pride, my demand for His presence in my own timing, my willful control of my own destiny - and that of my child.

A child whose story God was writing yesterday on my heart, preparing me to receive him, preparing me to return him as willingly to the heart of his Father as I learned to do with Piper when I was afraid she wasn't breathing, when I have wanted to hold her and change her to be what she is not.

God may exist as God outside of my circumstances, but He uses them for His own purposes in my heart.

It's an up/down, happy/sad walk, this being human and waiting for His timing outside of time.

I am not like Mary. "May it be to me as You have said."

I wouldn't have gotten picked for her job.

But He did choose me anyway, to let me know Him, to be the mother of these two children, to walk this path as He brings forth fruit in me that is His for the harvest.

Piper is sleeping on my lap as I write this morning, bundled up in a blanket, listening to my heartbeat. She wouldn't be here if Button had come already.

It's one more gift, one more chance to let my first baby know how much I love her.

-------------------------

Just a Note:

I promise, I will post updates as they come, and pictures as soon as we have them. Please don't pressure me for more than I have to share. I have been so encouraged by so many of you, and I want to keep writing and sharing this journey here, but I'm feeling really vulnerable right now, and it's taking a lot for me to not shut everyone out.

This introvert would not make a very good celebrity, I think.

-------------------------

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)

Stolen Moment - Unwrapped

She fell asleep on me the other day.

This is normal, our afternoon nap routine. I turn on a movie or a TV show that bores her to sleep and keeps me on the couch for a couple of hours to rest. I'm not so good at sitting down and resting.

But the waking - that was different.

She turned toward me with a soft, happy gasp as she opened her eyes. "Mommy?"

I smiled and told her "I'm here."

And she smiled back and cuddled into me with one of her sweetest hugs, perfectly content to be with me.

It doesn't happen often. I unwrap it again and again.

--------------------------------

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.

It is good for me, this learning to notice Him.

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)

Unwrapping a Morning

Noticing today.

Revisiting winter beauty in sleeping crepe myrtle. Oh, I love that stuff.

Figuring out that my lack of inspiration for a photo montage means that I need to go find these pictures of grace - fresh, new - soon.

Grateful for sleep last night, for feeling better today, for answered prayers (thank you for praying, friends), for sunlight in my eyes as I type.

Having breath, feeling baby movement and strengthening womb, drawing anatomy of my face with cold little girl fingers trying to figure me out - "lips, sad?, zit?, eyes..."

Replaying unexpected before-sleep conversation, stolen midnight moments.

Beauty in crazy, new supposed-to-be-un-pressured moments broken by toddler interruptions - for hug... after hug... after hug this morning.

Almost wishing to rewrap this Piper-gift that is so much chaos in my world sometimes.

Planning to bake cookies with her. Germs and all. Promise not to send them to anyone.

------------------------

Shared today with Chatting at the Sky for Tuesdays Unwrapped.

Original, unprompted material to come at some point soon. I'm disenchanted with my own writing at the moment. And disenchanted with Blogger, which spontaneously ambushed all the permalinks in my archives. Anybody have any suggestions?





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)