nine years

Has it really been that long?  It doesn't seem possible that nine years ago I wed my beloved husband on a stormy afternoon.

Here we are, celebrating our 9th anniversary on another stormy afternoon.

It rained the day of our first date and we were caught in a deluge on the boardwalk of Asilomar Beach in Monterey, collecting shells.  My khaki pants went see-through, and Christian thought I had cute legs.  It was all history after that.

It rained the day of our wedding, surprisingly enough.  No one thought it rained here in April. We danced and dined as the water poured down the windows of the Coconut Grove ballroom in Santa Cruz.

It has rained on the majority of our anniversaries since then.  It seems like God's little reminder that He remembers.  The rain is a gift from Him, a blessing, like Holy water.  An anointing, of sort, to remind us that our marriage is set apart for Him and we have been commissioned to celebrate the life we lead together, in rain or shine.

Today we celebrated with a family day to Carmel... lunch, the beach, coffee and dessert at a cafe.  It was the four of us.  We had good intentions of going on a date without the children this evening, but we have been sick for weeks (literally), and today the babysitters are sick too.  So it was a family day.  I thought I might feel cheated of time with my spouse.  Instead, I feel rejuvenated.  We celebrated our life together, here and now, nine years in the making.  Isn't that what an anniversary should be?   It is more than just an excuse to sneak away.  It is a celebration of the life we lead together, and that life now includes a few extra bodies.

I never knew it would look like this when we started our journey together on that stormy afternoon nine years ago.  Now that I am here, I wouldn't change a thing.

Thank you, my Dear, for giving me the opportunity to share in this tremendously joyful, dirty and daring, crazy, fun, loving, tearful, silly, surreal, captivating, wild adventure with you.  You still make me giggle, and you still make me sparkle.  Let's keep doing life together.

at home

It occurred to me recently that if I have three children,  though I am not making any announcements or commitments here, I will spend a minimum of 10 years at home with small children.  That  is an entire decade.  It just sounds like a really long time to me, considering that it is currently 1/3 of my life.

Another thing that struck me is that this decade will be spent almost entirely with children who are too young to have any memories of the time together.  Ten years of my life spent pouring into children who wont remember any of it.

I have to be careful how I say this, because I truly believe that these young years are crucial to a child's development, and I wholeheartedly recognize the great gift it is to be with my own children during these years.  I would not trade in this time with them for anything.  However, doesn't it seem like a strange way to spend valuable adult years?  This is an entire decade given over to day-in, day-out routines.  These are years when adult conversations are few and conversations at home consist primarily of one-syllable words.  And from a Spiritual point of view, these are years when it is difficult to be involved in any type of ministry (outside of my house, that is.)  Doesn't that seem like a colossal waste of an adult who could be doing so many other things to better the world?

But, No.  To Him it doesn't.

Once again, His designs are much better than mine would ever be.  The most crucial part of Jesus' own ministry was a mere 3 years of His life.  What was He doing for the other three unrecorded decades between the manger and His first miracle? ...Just because it isn't recorded, doesn't mean it wasn't important.  If even Jesus needed 30 years of preparation to do God's will, then perhaps this decade in my life is part of the larger plan too.

I tend to view this whole mom-at-home thing as something I am doing for my children, and sometimes I feel a little left out of the picture.  But God is showing me that being at home is a big part of His plan for me too.  The kids, and me.

Something about being home with these kids, amidst the monotony of laundry and dishes and runny noses and more laundry, having zero time for myself, is... character-building.  It is a big part of how God wants to prepare me to follow Him anywhere.  About what it means to be stripped of all titles and see myself without any of them, the way that God sees me.  About how to die to self day after day after day, and in the end be more myself than ever.  And ultimately, being home with these children teaches me how to love people the way that He loves people.

Isn't that what it's all about?  Loving people the way that God loves people.

I am always chasing after my final product.  But there is no final product, not on earth, anyway.  This decade spent in raising young children is not some stray deviation from the plan... or hiatus from the plan... it is the plan.  It is the plan to refine me piece by piece, however long it takes.

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.