dedication

Sommer's baby dedication was last Sunday.  We publicly committed to raise her in the way of the Lord, to pray for her, and to actively role model what it looks like to follow Jesus.

(Sommer)

Annike was dedicated in this same dress when she was four months old.

(Annike)

The dress is significant.  I was also dedicated in it when I was a few months old.  My mother made it for me out of the same material used for her wedding dress.  The dress was then passed to all of my girl cousins for their own baby dedications.

(Me - note that Sommer comes by her cheeks honestly)

Sommer was the ninth girl in the family to wear this dedication dress.  And while I sat in church holding my sleeping baby, newly dedicated, I was struck with tears over the significance of the history of this dress.   Over 30 years ago my parents made the decision to raise me to know the truth about Jesus Christ and committed to pray for me.  That truth has stay with me and today I choose to actively raise my own children to know and follow Jesus.  God willing, one day my daughters will stand in front of a church filled with people who love them and know them, promising to raise their own children to know the Lord. 

 

(Sommer)

What a privileged legacy my daughters have... of God-fearing Jesus-followers who pass down the knowledge and love of Christ to the best of their human abilities. I am humbled to be a link in this chain.

(Annike)

Dedication is only a symbol of all that Christian and I hope for our children.  One day each of my daughters will need to make an independent decision to follow Christ.  And that decision is, indeed, independent.  They have the choice not to make it.  While this possibility breaks my heart, I feel hope as I glance back at the legacy these children are coming from - a legacy of love, of prayer, of dedicating children to be raised to know their Savior, and of following after Jesus.

(Sommer)

writing

For Opa's birthday, which happens to be today, Annike wrote her name for the very first time!! It is Uncle Ryan's birthday today too, but Annike only wrote her name once... sorry Ryan!  Opa is a little bit older and perhaps he has earned the honor of Annike's name in his card the most.

Can you see it?  Don't let the big fish next to the letter "A" throw you off.  The rest of her name is at the bottom.  The squiggly lines at the top are what she usually writes in cards and calls "writing".  She insists that I read it back to her, because after all, she can't read.  "Since you know how to write, isn't it time to learn to read?" I ask her.  This argument carries no weight.

I know that Annike has been capable of writing her name for a while now, but has simply not wanted to try.  Trying meant to her that she might fail.  It is a little heart-breaking to see such a young child so afraid of failing. The over-achiever in me wanted her to be an over-achiever and learn to write her name early (just being honest here, folks!)  But kids don't really work like that.

As her mother, my job is not to push her into things that I want her to do.  My job, instead, is to understand the little person that God created her to be, and help her become the best version of herself.  This has little to do with academics and a lot to do with shepherding her little personality.  In this case, it is understanding that she is a sit-back-and-observe kind of girl who will not perform on anyone else's agenda.  And when I put it that way, I think that is a pretty good personality trait to have.

So, the next time she writes her name will be, once again, on her timetable.  For all I know, it might be next year.  In the mean time I am going to shepherd, direct, and channel this special child of mine who is emerging out of toddler-hood into a little person.  The good stuff can't be rushed.

forgiveness

When I put my baby to bed, she screams her head off.  She is angry.  She gets sweaty and hot from all the crying.

After she wakes up, I peek over the edge of the crib and this is the look I get.

This is the face of forgiveness.

vacation

If Sommer counted as carry-on luggage, and I can legitimately argue that she did, then our airline travel consisted of 6 carry-on bags, 2 car seats, 1 checked piece of luggage, and only 2 adults to carry it all.  And we packed light.

After a laden walk into the airport, we were on our way to Kauai!  Both girls did really well on the plane, but I certainly don't want to fly to New Zealand with them any time soon.

The best part about Kauai vacation is having Papa around all the time!!  It is not just the girls who enjoy having him around - this is what makes it "vacation" for me too.  The adult to child ratio dramatically improves the odds of me getting to relax.

Thanks to the time change, we enjoyed many a beautiful sunrise.  In fact, I am not sure I have witnessed so many sunrises in a row ever before in my life.  Sleeping-in is definitely overrated.

Especially fun to witness was the way our daughters began to bond.  Not surprisingly, Sommer adores Annike.  It is only recently, however, that Annike has begun to enjoy Sommer too... finding ways to make her laugh, handing her toys, and playing silly games with her.  It gives me warm visions of the future memories they will have as their little friendship builds.

Everyone loved the water.  We changed into bathing suits four or more times a day.  Annike was quite the little fish in her water wings - and there was no shortage of imaginary games to play involving mermaids and turtles.

In the final hour of our trip, a nice gentleman offered to photograph the family.  Amazing to have a picture of all four of us together!

Thank you, Lord, for my wonderful family!  They are FUN, HEALTHY, and I can't think of anyone I would rather go on vacation with!

A video just for fun...

be mine

The first time I ever had a date on Valentine's Day was when I was dating my husband.  Boys weren't exactly knocking down my door to date me.  Needless to say, Valentine's Day is not a single-girl's favorite holiday... if you can even call it a holiday.  More like a Hallmark excuse.

My high school years were the hardest to accept a date-less Valentine's.  You remember the bouquets of balloons, and flowers, and chintzy white teddy bears with hearts on their paws that girls carried around school all day, flaunting their dating status to all.  I can distinctly picture myself eating lunch with two of my best girlfriends, and their boyfriends, and a lot of p.d.a. one particularly grim Valentine's day.  I was a definite 5th wheel with school-girl hopes that the boy I had a crush on might glance my way.  Nope.

It was a Valentine's day like this one that I came home from school and went straight to my room, closing the door to hide from the world of teenage boys that had rejected me.
A few hours later came a knock on the door.  In came my dad, recently home from work.  He had a gift for me.  A Valentine's gift to say he loved me.  It was a cheesy stuffed animal - a bee with a "bee mine" heart.  It isn't the gift that was important, but the fact that he gave it.  In that moment, amidst all the feelings of insecurity about myself and what boys in high school thought of me, I felt loved.

My dad gave me a much greater gift than a simple stuffed animal.  He gave me the gift of knowing what kind of love was important on Valentine's Day, and of knowing that I was loved by someone special.  I did not need to settle for some dweeby guy in high school who didn't know how to treat women.  Here I am, years later, actually thankful for the date-less Valentine's Days in my past.  Despite the years of feeling somewhat lonely and forlorn, I never gave a Valentine to someone who didn't deserve it.

Having two daughters scares me because in our world women are expected to sell their virtue for love.  In God's world, love protects our virtue.  Dads have the unique responsibility of loving their daughters in a way that will protect their virtue... a healthy, kind way that teaches them to be discerning about the different kinds of "love" that come along in life.

The man I married is now dad to our two precious daughters.  In our house, Valentine's Day is no longer simply a reason to bring out the romance.  It is one more opportunity to teach our children about the way God intended them to be loved.

gratitude

Every morning I awaken with my baby, and the feeling that I have been run over by a truck.  At least, I think I might feel the same if I was ever run over by a truck.  Instead, I have been awoken too many times through the night by a baby who has not yet learned that Mommy is nicer when she gets more sleep.  It takes every ounce of energy I have to open my eyes and drag myself out of bed.  And I wonder, will I make it through the day feeling this exhausted?  But every day, God give me the strength I need.  Once I am up (and have had that first cup of coffee) I actually feel pretty good.
For this I am grateful.

I have a 3-year-old.  She is going through a demanding phase.  I imagine I am not the only mom who wants to shout, Are you kidding me, Child?!?  I have devoted my entire day to entertaining you, picking up after you, feeding you, cleaning you, singing to you, reading to you, and driving you around!  I have given up my entire previous life of independence to care for you!!  And YOU are complaining about way I cut up your hot dog?!!  But I don't.  Instead I feel a deep compassion and love for this selfish child who God has entrusted to my care.  I am given patience where I had none.  Gentle words replace ugly ones. It is a genuine mothering miracle.
For this I am grateful.

My time is not my own.  It takes most of the morning to get myself dressed, let alone tidy up the breakfast dishes.  Entropy catches up to me quickly.  The children are incessant.  I can never quite recount what I have done between the hours of 7am and 11am, but I believe the time has vanished into filling the minor needs of my girls - making animals talk, changing a diaper, pulling out toys, feeding someone.  The day proceeds like this.  There is a point in the afternoon, far too brief but existent none-the-same, when both girls are napping (or at least quiet in their rooms.)  I sink into the couch, open my Bible, check email, or simply stare into empty space.  A tiny sliver of peace in a world of chaos.  The moment refreshes me.
For this I am grateful.

I am describing small, daily miracles.  Except that they are not small.  They are stuff life is made out of.  God gives us incredible strength to do what He asks us to do, to be who He asks us to be, to love how He asks us to love.
For this I am grateful.

In the new year I am making a conscious effort to practice the discipline of gratitude.  It is not a question of what I have to be grateful for, but whether I choose to see it.

This post is a follow up from my last post.

new year

It is not something I normally say, but I am relieved to be exiting 2011.  For me, it was a year essentially filled with not feeling good.  And I do truly recognize that I have little to complain about because I am not terminally ill and have the function of all of my limbs, etc.  But it was a selfish year, spent wallowing in the exhaustion of pregnancy, and spent uncomfortably summoning the motivation to do menial tasks.  Eternal hibernation sounded positive to me.  On top of it all, pregnancy hijacked my personality.  If you know me on a daily basis, thanks for not giving up on me.

As I emerge from the fog of a year spent not myself, I almost want to jump for joy as I see glimpses of the "me" I have been missing.  I feel motivated to start projects, to play with my kids, to make jokes, and wonder of all wonders, to make dinner!  (This is the one that really clued me in... for me to feel like making dinner means that I actually have extra energy.)  

The arrival of the new year always prompts my heart to change, and somehow make this next year count for more.  It is the opportunity to grab the map and make sure I know where I am going... and maybe plan out a better route than the one I have been on.

In the wake of this year of self-centeredness, New Year Resolutions seem pretty much expected.  I have nowhere to go but up.  So, taking the prostrate position, I asked God where He wants change in my life.  Then I asked Him to narrow it down a bit because His answers were overwhelming me.  Like I said, nowhere to go but up.

In the end, there are two specific areas I feel God is calling me to focus on this year: Gratitude and Generosity.  Two ways to make the year more about Him, and less about me.  Two attitudes that cannot fail.  Two tools for making me a more unselfish person.  Two steps closer to becoming the woman God wants me to be.

Gratitude - Focusing on God.  Choosing to see the "haves" in my life instead of the "have-nots".  Practicing the art of thankfulness again and again and again until it is not an outward effort, but overflows from a heart that is filled to the brim.

Generosity - Giving to others.  Not financially (why do we always think of generosity as being material?)  Generosity in every other way possible... in time, in effort, in words of affirmation, in thoughts toward others, in giving the benefit of the doubt, in not keeping track of what is fair but generously erring on the side of someone else.  

I would like to give a hearty welcome to this wonderfully new year, and wonderfully better version of myself.