my help

School started up last week for Annike. First grade begins the wild world of full day school. Off she goes.

On that first day while she was gone and my younger two were napping, I sat on the couch with my Bible, by myself.  It felt like a small miracle to be alone. I teared up with emotion, and all of the mixed sentiments of the day... worry, exhaustion, gratitude, relief, sadness at witnessing the arrival of yet another year.

That moment sitting on the couch was a healing moment. There was peace in my home, and I was allowed some space in a frantic world to process all of my emotional extremes. The moment ended shortly thereafter as the baby awoke early from his nap and refused to go back down. But in those minutes spent reflecting on our summer, I felt a huge sense of relief that we were exiting it and all the chaos that accompanied it. Summer is a wonderful time of fun and freedom, but we are all ready to have the reigns pulled back restoring some sense of order and routine in our lives, if for no other reason then our ability to once again enjoy occasionally breaking the routine.

At times, parenting three children is one of the most stressful things I have ever done. I can only imagine what it is like to have four, or six, or more. It brings multi-tasking to a whole new level, like trying to have a different conversation with five people at once giving them each your undivided attention. Take any serene moment, and there is an equally disastrous moment unpredictably lurking behind it. Like yesterday afternoon when we were all playing nicely in the backyard, engaged in our respective happy tasks, and all at once one child has thrown sand into the eyes of another child. The child with sand in her eyes is screaming in pain while the other child is rebelling with the knowledge she is waiting to be disciplined. Meanwhile the baby has discovered a nest of ants and is quite literally covered in them. The disciplined child is sent inside where she has an accident in the bathroom. As the meltdowns occur, everyone also appears to be both tired and hungry. Only 60 seconds have passed since the world was a place of calm. Now all is calamity.

It is difficult to know what to tackle first. I find myself just wanting a little help. Why is no one helping me? Why are there suddenly so many tasks to complete and not possibly enough minutes in the day to complete them while caring for these young people? and caring for my husband? and sometimes caring for myself? It is the feeling of being overwhelmed by all of the things that need to be done and the truth that I am completely incapable of doing them all at once, let alone doing them at all.

In that frantic moment I do not remember that God is my help. No, I am too busy being angry that my daughter has peed on the floor while she was having a tantrum, and being frustrated that my other daughter doesn't know how to communicate with me when she is in pain, and being worried that my baby is getting bitten by ants or choking on a pebble because I left him outside. In that frantic moment I succumb to the lies that I cannot do it. I have forgotten the truth that God is my ever-present help. He hasn't left me, or you, alone in the overwhelming present. He has not fallen asleep while we are left to tend to the mess.

I will lift up my eyes to the hills--

From whence comes my help?

My help comes from the Lord,

Who made heaven and earth.

He will not allow your foot to be moved;

He who keeps you will not slumber

Behold, He who keeps Israel

Shall neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper

The Lord is your shade at your right hand.

The sun shall not strike you by day, 

Nor the moon by night.

The Lord shall preserve you from all evil;

He shall preserve your soul.

The Lord shall preserve your going out and your coming in

From this time forth, and even forevermore.

Psalm 121

In that healing moment on the couch, relief flooded me as I remembered that I do have help. There will be plenty more overwhelming moments in my future. But they will be peppered by moments of peace, in which I have space to remember, and hopefully internalize, the truth.

.........................................................

It is ridiculous, of course, to entertain the notion that I don't have any help. Karsten himself has entered the very helpful stage of 11 months old. Below are some photos to prove just how helpful he truly is...

Here he is helping me load the dishwasher...

and helping me sort laundry...

and helping me reorganize the children's bookshelf...

and helping me clean the shower...

and helping me change the toilet paper roll, a favorite task of his...

and helping me dig in the garden, sampling plants as he goes to be sure that they are edible...

And just in case you have forgotten what it is like to live with small children in the house, this video is a reminder. How does anyone ever do it without this kind of helpfulness?

a roll in the mud

These are the final days of summer. Sigh.

This is good news and bad news. The good news being that I will get to go grocery shopping with only two children in my cart, which will be a piece of cake. There will be a lot more room for food too. The bad news is, well, that summer is almost over.

When we moved to this farm over four years ago, I had no idea it meant that we would become a real farm family, unafraid of things like mice and dirt and eating fruit with worms in it. My girls can rock playing in the mud, and my little boy is learning fast. 

I've never wanted to be particularly uptight about letting my kids get dirty. As it turns out, they are covered in dirt often as a regular part of going outside. It just seems like part of a healthy childhood to allow some filth, even if it ends up meaning more laundry for me. And as much as is in my control, I would like to give my children a healthy childhood.

Like moths to a flame are children to mud. At some point between childhood and now I lost my desire to roll around in the mud, and they will lose it too. Is it because I did it enough to purge the need from my system? Or because my imagination has dulled? Or because I became too darn practical and don't want to take time out for a second shower today? Probably all of the above.

We spend a fair amount of time holding back as adults. Too many reasons to be responsible. Too many things to feel self-conscious over. Too much fear of the future. These are hindrances children don't inherently have, and I am oh so glad to celebrate this freedom of theirs for a few more years. That's what summer days are all about.

Rolling in the mud is a good reminder to celebrate the season we are in now. To celebrate today without anxieties about what may or may not be next. To temporarily let go of the "what might happen"s and the "I don't feel like getting dirty"s in order to engage in what is happening at this very moment. It means having a sense of humor when someone squirts you with a hose, instead of my newest adult tendency to snap at the person who did it. In these final warm days of August, go ahead and take another run through that sprinkler or a good roll in the mud. We can't get these days back again.

Straight into the bathtub after this. Next project on the list is installing an outdoor shower. Every farmhouse needs one.

safe

In an effort to make the most of the last few weeks of summer, this morning we went to a drop-in class at the children's gymnastics center. They always do a good job at making the experience both fun and educational. Today's theme was safety. During circle time there were introductions and each child was invited to answer the question: What are some things that help you stay safe?

There was a discussion about bicycle helmets and looking both ways before we cross the street. I always feel a secret glee when I get to listen in on my own children's comments, like a spy gathering information. What do they know and what will they say? Since they don't ride bikes yet and we live out in the country where there aren't many streets to cross, I was curious which connections they were making.

Sommer's turn came. What are some things that help you stay safe? She gave a fairly typical two-and-a-half year old's unrelated answer, "We have a trampoline at home!" Yes, she was more focused on the trampolines she saw around her than circle time. The teachers were skilled, however, at bringing it back around and they talked about trampoline safety.

Annike's turn came. What are some things that help you stay safe? She looked shy, then evangelized her class, "I pray to Jesus quietly in my heart."
Preach it, sister. Liberal Santa Cruz may not listen to me, but they will listen to you.

Responses like these are the reason I have named this blog "A Child's Eyes." I learn so much from the innocent perspective of my children. Over the years my contribution to a discussion on safety has been programmed to include something like: "Don't talk to strangers." But children only know what they know, without all of the programming.

This morning was one of those rare mornings when I was feeling brave enough to take three children on a summer outing by myself. The past few months with all the kids at home has tested and challenged me in this area as I have discovered the hard way that no matter where we go, I still can't predict the outcome of any outing where the ratio is 3:1. Hoping this will change shortly.

Gymnastics class went well, but like I said, I had an abnormal surge of bravery and decided to take the kiddos for treats at a local bakery. On the way out, because hot chocolate and a fruit parfait had clearly not sufficiently filled her tummy, Sommer ate "a green bean" from a mysterious plant by the doorway. I didn't see her do it of course because I was maneuvering the stroller through two swinging doors while corralling my children onto the sidewalk instead of the street, carrying three half-drunk cups of hot chocolate, attempting not to spill any on the baby or run over the toes of other guests.

When we got to the car Sommer told me, "My breath tastes spicy because I ate a green bean from that plant."
"You WHAT?!!?"
Approaching her I realized her "spicy" breath was actually the smell of vomit.

It left me acutely aware that while wearing seat belts and obeying traffic laws are all very safe and good choices, it is Jesus alone who keeps us safe when the child who should know better eats a poisonous plant. At the end of the day, it is He who holds our whole lives in His hands.

On the car ride home, Annike prayed quietly in her heart for Sommer's safety while I called Poison Control. It turns out that this plant causes gastrointestinal discomfort, hence the vomit, but in small doses most likely isn't toxic. We don't need to have her stomach pumped.

In the meantime we thank God for His grace to see us safely through another day.

Trust in the Lord and do good;

dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.

Delight yourself in the Lord

and He will give you the desires of your heart.

Psalm 37:4-5

Our family hands in cement.

loving well

We have had a bit of a funky summer. Maybe I am just getting older, or maybe an extra dose of LIFE is happening all around. Either way, this summer has not been the light-hearted season I had planned. It has instead been colored by a kind of heaviness and melancholy that comes from witnessing the imperfection of humankind and the simple passing of time. There have been friends walking through difficult circumstances, loved ones growing older, children who need a new kind of parenting less about need-based provision and more about understanding choices that are right and wrong. There have been health issues and deep theological discussions, the answers to which may only be found in heaven itself. There have been confrontations with life and death and the space in between.

So when an ankle injury resurfaced from almost 20 years ago, knocking me off my feet, and my husband severely strained a muscle temporarily incapacitating him, it seemed almost comical. There is no one left to take care of us, both hobbling around like old people. (I admit I initially had little to no compassion for my husband's injury when it prevented him from taking care of me... then his pain-induced nausea turned him a sallow shade of pasty green and I decided it was the real thing.)

However debilitating these physical injuries are, they are nothing compared to some of the spiritual darkness we have witnessed over the past few months. I would choose our physical dilemmas any day over some of the other struggles in the lives of those we love. Contemplating all of it leaves me with a sifted down, simplified view of the complex life I am living. At the end of it all, whether my end comes fifty years from now or some time this week, I want to know one thing: I want to know that I have loved well.

Have I loved well in the harried moments of my day? Have I loved well in selfishly stolen quiet times? Have I loved well during the bedtime ritual when little eyes and ears want just one more story, just one more song, and just one more moment with me? Have I loved well on the telephone when conversations drew tears on the other end, through the chaos of needy little ones on my end? Have I loved well in the grocery store though I feel rushed to make it out before the meltdowns begin, when a gentle old soul with all the time in the world stops to admire my children? Have I loved well or allowed resentment to rob my joy because of a worldly understanding of justice? Have I loved well by noticing others, by remembering important details, by listening, by praying, by pausing, by encouraging, by serving, by sharing, by being present?

That is all that really matters. Loving well.

The realization has made this summer feel more inward and less outward. There has been more time with family and less time on the computer. This is as it should be. In the midst of the heaviness, here is a photo summary of some ways we are trying to love well this summer...

We spent some cherished time with my grandmother, visiting from Texas. What a blessing for my children to spend time with this Godly woman, building a relationship with their Great-Grandma!

My littlest love is requiring lots of attention these days, now crawling and standing wherever he gets a chance. He is one of the better reasons I haven't found much time to sit at the computer...

And two other little people I am trying to love well. Some days are easier than others. But the benefits include lots of trips to the pool and the beach.

Loving family and friends on the Fourth of July.

At some point this summer I let my girls watched Disney's The Little Mermaid for the first time. We made sure to fast-forward through some of the scary parts to protect young and active imaginations. The girls were enamored and we have been living in an underwater kingdom ever since. The day after their viewing Annike told me, "Sommer can be Ariel, and I will be Flounder her fish friend. Karsten can be Sebastian (the crab) and Papa can be Prince Erik.  Momma you... you can be the Evil Sea Witch!"

Gee thanks. Looks like I have quite a bit more work to do in the "loving well" department...

learning to love

As part of our summer plan for "success" (ie: Momma not pulling her hair out every time the children are arguing over a toy they never want to play with until someone else is holding it), we are memorizing the whole chapter of 1 Corinthians 13, the love chapter in the Bible. The goal is one verse per week.

It is the passage most commonly read at weddings, but is feeling awfully applicable this summer. There is nothing like an extended period of togetherness to highlight all of the areas that a person needs work. Part of learning to enjoy our summer togetherness is learning to treat each other right. No better lesson book than the Bible when it comes to learning about that...

"Love is patient,

love is kind.

It does not envy,

it does not boast,

it is not proud.

It is not rude,

it is not self-seeking,

it is not easily angered,

it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails...."

1 Corinthians 13

It turns out that most of my little family's arguments can be solved by working on one of the phrases from this verse.

...Girls, instead of fighting, let's share our toys. Remember "love is not self-seeking".

...You need to use a nicer tone of voice with me. Remember "love is not rude".

...Wait your turn. Remember "love is patient".

...Try not to get frustrated with each other. Remember "love is not easily angered".

Inevitably, when I begin to work on something with my children, my own heart simultaneously gets a makeover. This summer I keep personally getting stuck at the beginning: "Love is patient, love is kind." Getting those two things right changes the entire trajectory of our day.

The golden rule of family love is that it must always protect, always trust, always hope, always persevere. Love never fails.

moving mountains

"...For truly I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, 
you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move, 
and nothing will be impossible to you."  

Matthew 17:20

This week has found me heavy hearted for a dear friend. Along with many others, I am being called to walk beside her, encourage her, and pray for her. It is a beautiful thing to see so many stand together with her and for her, in solidarity.

In addition to the heaviness I feel for my friend, I have also struggled with what I would call spiritual warfare - the attack of the Enemy on my internal being, aiming at my soul. It has left me irritable, angry, sleepless, unproductive and wrestling with myself. I am weighed down by the burden of all this ugliness in my own life. Upon inquiry, it seems that some of the others lifting up this friend are experiencing similar weighty-ness.

Why? I wondered. Why would we be the ones experiencing these blatant spiritual attacks? Why this group of women on the outside? We are walking a friend through a difficult time, and feel elated at the opportunity to be there for her. So why this wrestle in our own darkness?

Because we are moving mountains.

I am not sure how it works, but somewhere in the spiritual realm our prayers are being heard. They are powerful, effective, faithful. They are the opposite of what sin and Satan want to accomplish. Prayer changes the path of darkness being etched into our lives. Prayer sets the Light in motion.

People tell me they want to do something. Praying doesn't feel like enough. That is the voice of one who wants to distract from the only thing that does make a difference.  Though we may feel ineffective, the Enemy's attack is proof that we are deemed worthy opponents. Prayer is the one thing that will move a mountain of this magnitude and our prayers are changing a life. So, one fistful at a time, let's move this mountain.

"...For truly I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, 
you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move, 
and nothing will be impossible to you."  

Matthew 17:20

The words in Isaiah struck a encouraging chord in my heart this week, promising that though we are in a desert wilderness, one day the mountain will forever be gone, the valleys raised up, the rough and rugged places made smooth...

"In the desert prepare the way for the Lord; 

make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God. 

Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low; 

the rough ground shall become level, 

the rugged places a plain. 

And the glory of the Lord will be revealed, and all people will see it together."  

Isaiah 40:3-5

all creatures great and small

Living on a farm has its advantages in the spring time. My little animal-lovers get to witness nature in a mostly undisturbed setting.  Though I am somewhat squeamish at heart, I try not to let on in front of my children. Shhhh... don't tell. I fool them into believing I am not afraid of these crawly things in hopes that someday they will not let fear of touching an animal 1/100th of their size rule over them.

One day back in March, thousands of tadpoles appeared in the small spring-fed pond at the bottom of our hill (picture above). I did a good mom kind of thing and let my children catch and raise a quartet of them in one of my favorite glass vases on the kitchen counter. I assumed the tadpoles would take around three weeks to grow legs and lose their tails. Not sure where I came up with this number, but I figured that kittens can be adopted away from their mothers after 6 weeks, and tadpoles are far more simple creatures, so it couldn't take too long.

Wrong. Three months later a few of them had hind legs, but they all remained in the tadpole category. Their bowl was absolutely putrid because we had discovered the hard way that tadpoles are "fragile". I was afraid to clean it lest they die after all this time on prime kitchen counter space, and my kids would want to start over with new ones.

After all of that watching and waiting, metamorphosis did eventually occur. Despite the long tadpole stage, the end process was alarmingly fast as one tadpole at a time made its final change into a Pacific Treefrog. In a 24-hour period a tadpole would sprout front legs, lose its tail, and then did its best to hop right out of the bowl. After the first frog was found on the kitchen floor, we paid more attention to the others as they approached frog-hood.

Goodbye frogs that took FOREVER to grow. You can fend for yourself in our backyard now.

After all of the observing for months I couldn't believe how fast the final miracle happened. Perhaps the long stage of tadpole development really was about preparation for that final miracle. Even the smallest among God's creatures is complex in its own way. And perhaps metamorphosis can occur in our own lives if we are patient enough to see it through.

Without further ado, here is glimpse (seriously, only a tiny segment) of the other animal encounters we have had over the past few months. Cecil Frances Alexander's poem says it best...

All things bright and beautiful,

All creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful,

The Lord God made them all.

(Rescued baby hummingbird)

Each little flower that opens,

Each little bird that sings,

He made their glowing colours,

He made their tiny wings.

(Great Blue Heron)

The rich man in his castle,

The poor man at his gate,

God made them, high or lowly,

And ordered their estate.

(Wild male turkey displaying his feathers. So much more magnificent in real life.)

The purple-headed mountain,

The river running by,

The sunset, and the morning,

That brightens up the sky;

(Swallowtail Butterfly)

The cold wind in the winter,

The pleasant summer sun,

The ripe fruits in the garden,

He made them every one.

(Gopher snake that doubles as a styling necklace)

The tall trees in the greenwood,

The meadows where we play,

The rushes by the water,

We gather every day;--

(Snake skin as tall as Annike. Hopefully the owner is out eating our gophers.)

He gave us eyes to see them,

And lips that we might tell,

How great is God Almighty,

Who has made all things well. 

-- Cecil Frances Alexander

circa 1848

Oh yes. Can't forget the chyrsalis hanging in the doorway after nap.