Some friends have told me that God is especially gracious with mothers of young children. I think it's also in scripture somewhere and I'm fairly certain I've looked it up just to make sure. After all, it seems a little too nice to be true...like a "Christian" bumper sticker. But I begin to digress, and you don't want to hear what I think about most bumper stickers. Suffice it to say I remember having found it and, even if I had not found it, I would know that it is true from experience. (But wouldn't you know I can't find it today!)

While time to be quiet is nearly impossible to come by, I have had a lot of little lessons come to me by way of my kids lately. They're the sort of peeks at real insight that let you know you haven't mastered the lesson yet, but they're just enough to remind you to keep learning. And they cause me to marvel at how vast and intricate the Being who created this place must be.

As you have gathered by now, I live in a neighborhood where people's problems are all too apparent. I know most people's lives are messes. But here, I KNOW most people's lives are messes; it gets broadcast from front porch fights and shown in preschoolers roaming the streets without their parents knowing where they are. Here, the alcoholism is public and I know the moms who do drugs because they don't bother to cover it up very well. The problems many people keep to themselves are public knowledge here. I think there are certainly pros and cons to this out-in-the-openness, having grown up in a place where people keep their issues to themselves. Here I digress again, when I merely wish to point out that sometimes I get overwhelmed by knowing people's business. Sometimes, I'd rather not know and would rather not feel the burden to be involved. Victories are hard won around here and sometimes even when someone wins their own battle, I can become discouraged. I mean, look at all the work that one victory took and then you think that there are people with similar issues living in half the houses around here (the other half are abandoned...) and you know each situation would probably require that much personal effort and that much support from others and suddenly one hard-won fight can seem like small change. You have read me talking from the middle of such sentiment before.

And I have also written of singing to Israel. We sing the song, "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands." I started singing it to reinforce what he learned in Sunday School one particular day, but have kept singing it every day since. Israel always asks to put certain people's names in the song and it is no small miracle that no matter whose name he brings up, it is true that God has them in His hands. Of course, I have no idea what that means in each case and I could easily become overwhelmed again trying to figure it out. I mean, does He really have the neglected kid in His hands? I suppose if He didn't, the kid would pop out of existence, so God surely has tabs on him. But sometimes it certainly seems from my vantage point that God is uninvolved and I wonder how it is that the One who can keep the whole universe going without planets and galaxies getting off-course can manage to let the affairs of one person's life go so awry. But if God is not the one ultimately holding it all together, who is? Me? Even if I could forget about my own moral failings, the dog hair that collects every day in the corners of my house would cry out that I cannot keep things together. And if I can't control the pet hair population in my living room, surely I can't control weightier matters. So, for all the finger-pointing I might find to do, it is certainly a good thing that I am not God. Things would get awfully hairy. (Sorry. I can't resist a bad pun.)

So it is that I sing this song to Israel every day. And every day it can become an act of faith on my part (unless I'm too busy rushing my child to sleep). I put the names of the kids we know in the song. I put our names in the song. It's my way of letting go and putting us all in God's hands. It's me admitting that, even if I could try to fix their problems or mine by myself, I would likely just create other problems. It's me admitting that, for all my complaining, I really am not the one who knows best. I sing it twice a day to Israel and some days that's not enough. I need reminded constantly, or else I try to hold on to things that aren't mine and get bent out of shape over things I cannot control.


He's got Israel and Eden in His hands.
He's got Judah and Naomi in His hands.
He's got Nay-nay and Schaivon in His hands.
He's got the whole world in His hands.

He's got the mommies and the daddies in His hands.
He's got the grandmas and the grandpas in His hands.
He's got all the little children in His hands.
He's got the whole world in His hands.

He's got the young and the old in His hands.
He's got the rich and the poor in His hands.
He's got the people near and far in His hands.
He's got the whole world in his hands.

He's got the moon and the stars in His hands.
He's got the sun and the rain in His hands.
He's got the beginning and the end in His hands.
He's got the whole world in His hands.

He's got you and me, brother, in His hands.
He's got you and me, sister, in His hands.
He's got everybody in His hands.
He's got the whole world in His hands.

how our garden grows

Even though none of us are in school, the summer schedule has been more relaxed and we've had good times just being around the house, watching things grow.

We have finished the project of planting a garden in our back yard (and while we were at it, we threw in a small front vegetable garden as well). I have been enjoying taking the kids out most mornings to do the watering while we're all still in our PJ's. (Wow. Who knew having a privacy fence would be so nice?) I can't really say how much I like gardening in my own yard. If you happen to be nearby, chances are I will drag you behind my house to gaze upon it. While it has yet to produce the first edible thing, I still love it and am excited to watch the blooms appear on the plants. The beauty of a flowering eggplant plant never ceases to surprise me and the promise offered by all the flowers on the pepper plants and tomatoes makes me nearly giddy. We have a cucumber that is nearly a whopping one inch long! It happens every year I garden: I work at it, and then when the fruit appears, I am surprised and find myself asking the plant, "Now what did I ever do for you that you give me food like this?"

nasturtium

eggplant

Israel and Eden have been enjoying the whole process as well. Pat has taught Israel that there are "good plants" and weeds. From time to time, he comes over while I'm watering, pats the leaves of a few plants, and says, "Good plant." Eden enjoys being outside and looking up into the branches of a tree or watching me fiddle with the garden hose. When the sun is out, I try to show Israel the rainbow made by shooting water in the air. I can't help but feel a bit of superstitious luck that my son tells all the plants they are good while a little girl named Eden watches over our work. Israel smartly prefers our neighbor Steve's garden, though, and has fun searching for cucumbers hiding under leaves and helping to pick the green beans. He likes eating the broccoli while still standing beside the plant. Last night, when we told him it was time to come in, he looked up at me from the green bean patch and, wanting to stay, said, "More beans?"

Pat and Israel "working" in the garden

We have been eating from the bounty of our neighbor's garden, which words cannot describe. We have had many, many meals already that include his heads of broccoli and bell peppers and green beans! There are few things that make me feel so blessed as eating free produce grown about 10 feet from my own house. (Though 10 feet puts that produce in my neighbor's yard; do not be confused.) When you move to a neighborhood "with a reputation" where houses are so close together that you have nearly no yard of your own, the last thing you expect is to eat green beans picked minutes ago from right outside your window. But eating is believing, and it reinforces my assertion that we have the best neighbor of anyone we know!

Of course, the vegetables are not the only things growing around here. The kids are growing as well. Israel is making all kinds of verbal leaps and bounds as words take more of their true form. Just this week, "strawberry," went from "bee..." to "taw-beezie" and "banana" went from "diza" to "ba-nee-na." He loves to talk about events and people and is learning to sing songs. Eden has been working very hard and just today made it from her back to her belly on her own. This means she can now roll over and over and over, making her way across a room. She likes to push herself by doing full-fledged sit-ups and already loves to play while standing in the exersaucer. We expect she'll be crawling next week, just to have something new to do.

Our little cabbage patch kid
(Cabbage patch provided by Steve.)

Israel was actually VERY HAPPY in this picture and excited about making the water go everywhere. That's our raised-bed garden in the background.

imagine meeting you here!

I have been feeling a bit scattered lately, with lots of thoughts bumping into one another inside my head. I imagine them as people at a crowded party: "Oops! Sorry, I didn't see you there." "Pardon me, just trying to make my way through...." Some step on each others' toes and others are happy to have accidentally run into each other.

Pat and I have stayed up hosting these late-night thought parties. We talk about recent events -- unexpected bumps on the road to racial reconciliation, kids we have watched grow up having children before they have even grown themselves, parents who pave the way for their children's road to deliquency, children who say they're afraid their parents don't love them (to whom I have no quick assurances), people stealing from their friends, families breaking up, and other issues some would label "dogs returning to their own vomit," as it would seem. It all feels so out-of control. Even the kids we have for youth group want to beat each other up -- at youth group or just outside our kitchen window. Now, I know it may seem ridiculous, but part of me had expected them to act better just by being in and around our home. I mean, we try to help them talk through things and to think before they act. We try to let them know we expect good things from them. We (and others) try to show them what it means when people love each other and care for each other. Heck, with all these role models just a block or two from their houses, you'd think they would all be models of success writing their own biographies about how they overcame the odds!

And then there's the reality. Kids are much more likely to grow up with the same good and bad habits of their parents and their parents are likely living the same habits they have since they were children with their own parents. One person, or even a group of people, stepping into a generational cycle is not going to suddenly undo all the years of people not expecting much of themselves. This thought often bumps into the "perhaps I need to do more" thought at my late-night thought party.

And I was relieved recently to be able to do a little more. I wrote quite awhile back about wanting to be discipled and to disciple someone else. These arrangements are precarious and require the incentive to be taken by both parties somewhat simultaneously in order for them to work. Well, if that doesn't seem highly unlikely. But I seemed to have been chosen by one girl in our neighborhood as a go-to person and decided to always open my door when she knocked and let her be part of our daily lives. If you know anything about me, you will know that idea alone is enough to stress me out for days. I like knowing what to expect around my house. However, actually welcoming her spontaneous company was not bad. Israel took to her immediately and would ask about her in her absence or yell, "Hi!" to her out our window if she was playing outside. But then, last-minute, her dad kept his promise of taking her out of state to live with him for the summer and she was gone. ("Yea!" for keeping promises, "Boo..." for the leaving and lack of stability.) And then things become entirely uncertain in the most hopeful situation I have going and I realize I have no control in that, either. It seems that Ms. Uncertainty just welcomed her friend, Mr. Doubt, to the party.

Then entered Little Miss Sunshine, humming a tune. In reality, we came across it trying to decipher what Israel was singing after church this past Sunday. He had apparently been listening to "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands." Now, I don't like it when someone gives a short "right answer" to a complicated problem and I really dislike little sayings like, "Let go and let God." Yuck. ...Yuck. But as we sang the words to "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands" over and over with Israel and have continued to make up our own verses, it was like welcoming comforting friend to the party. The song became less trite and more an act of faith to sing about each person we know and then end with, "He's got the whole world in His hands." Not only can I not really make a difference here in our neighborhood, but I'm not supposed to be able to. I can't hold anything in my hands; even the one girl I thought would in some respect become "mine," slipped through my fingers. So what great news it is that the job I cannot do is not even my job! I can't change anyone. There. Only God can.

It is not that suddenly the gathering of thoughts disperses. No, God's omnipotence gets its toes stepped on all the time by several of my clumsy thought-guests and there are many other awkward meetings that happen in there all the time. I'm glad, though, that when the conversation becomes mostly depressing, I still have a great old Friend who enters in without being put off by my untidy guests. "Mr. Doubt, meet Mr. Hope. Mr. Hope, here are Mr. Doubt and Ms. Uncertainty. Enjoy your chat."

capturing the diamond in the rough, part ii

obligatory cheesy date picture

A little over three months ago, Pat and I went out on a date for my birthday, pre-Eden. That was the last date we had...until this past weekend. We left Israel having fun in the backyard and Eden safe in my friend Leslie's arms to go look each other in the eye again.

It took me half an hour to get out of the house once our friends took over the kids. When Pat asked why, I told him I wanted to get ready and look a little nice -- not like I had been working outside all day (which I nearly had). As we drove to the Thai restaurant, I looked down to see dirt still under and around my nails. This after attempting to look nice. So I sighed and asked Pat if it made him love me more (a question I often ask about dumb things). He answered "No," and asked if it made me love him more to see him make an attempt at dressing up (which, for him, means wearing a shirt with a collar along with his cargo shorts...). I answered, "Yes."

I gave the affirmative partly because I like being ornery. But I also actually mean it somewhat. It's not that love is based totally on what another person does or does not do, but we do feel more "lovey" when someone does something just to make us happy; we tend to appreciate them more. We also grow in love as we appreciate new aspects of a person. And I grew a little more appreciation for our marriage -- me sitting there in my "nicer" clothes that still don't quite fit since my pregnancy and dirt under my nails and Pat going unshaven in his "nice" shirt and cargo shorts. I appreciated us because there is quite a bit of water under the bridge represented there. Whereas I used to be able to pick almost anything out of my closet and look nice and Pat would shower and all before going out and we could both spend the time to look nice, we now tuck in here and cover up there and head out with hints of these other parts of us still hanging out. We know we're putting on a show to an extent, but it's a show that matters.

We appreciate each other now -- mostly for what we each contribute to our family. I appreciate Pat's working hard each day. He appreciates me giving the kids fun and whatever shopping or cleaning I get done during the day. We appreciate when the other changes a dirty diaper or gets up in the middle of the night or washes the dishes we had been avoiding. But we don't often get the chance to appreciate each other for other reasons these busy days, which made going on this date particularly meaningful. We had a chance to dream and be goofy and try on a bit of our more thoughtful selves again. We had a chance to sit and be contemplative and watch the geese swimming on the river. We talked about memories and goals beyond getting chores done. It was beautiful.

We spent time talking about Annie Dillard's book, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. If you have not read it (and I will confess to not having read much of it...) you probably should (and I probably should finish it). There is so much beauty and wonder in its pages it makes you want to burst. I think that is probably the reason I have not finished it. I want to sip it slowly. Pat says the book is all one big thought, though, and should be taken in at once. I'll stick to the little ideas for now, because they're lovely. At any rate, we talked a great deal about how we miss taking the time to contemplate beauty and create beauty of our own, as Dillard has done with her book. Art has been replaced by Task in many places in our lives. Part of this is just where we are in this stage of life, which is just fine. There is much to enjoy about having young kids and we will do that. But oh, to remember who we are apart from that and to remember making our own works of beauty and to dream of doing it again!

I often think that our children will be our magnum opus in terms of our own creativity, and perhaps that is true by definition in its most literal interpretation. That is a thought I want to mull over a bit more and experiment with. After all, God's children certainly show God's creativity, therefore my children are certain to be a demonstration of mine. And I want to play that up as much as possible and view my life's work as a work of art all its own -- the one big thought. But I also enjoy the beautiful little ideas and also want my life to be filled with them. So I dream of photography and writing and gardening and cooking as little ways of generating my own pieces of beauty. Each of these is a way of capturing a piece of the larger Beauty to have for myself and to share with others. I want to learn to take pictures that are nearly as beautiful as the objects themselves. I want to learn to write in ways that distill thoughts down to the kernels of truth that can bring me to my knees. I want to learn to garden and savor food that I have known from its beginning to its end. And I want to cook it to share with others again, as we have in the past, celebrating the beauty in joys and sorrows against the backdrop of that which sustains us.

Pearls are created by in irritation in a clam. A little grain of sand gets in there and the clam's body works at it and in the end it produces something of great value in its short lifetime. Diamonds are old and form over long periods of time. If a piece of coal is not a diamond when we are born, it will not be a diamond when we die. At least that is my understanding of it. People have in them both diamonds and pearls, then. Some beauty is put in us from the start to be unearthed. Other things are developed over our lifetime as we work at the daily grit in our lives. While I wouldn't give up what is being gained by working at the daily grit for anything, as my dirty fingers will remind me, I love digging out the things that were there before our work as a father and mother and polishing up those old diamonds.

----------------------------
Some of the beauty captured on our river walk:

the geese, who didn't really enjoy their people-watching

curious purple-stemmed plant
ruler over the white river

sunset at Westside Park

capturing the diamond in the rough

The scene:

Growing up in the mountains of Kentucky, natural beauty was all around me. I remember drawing pictures of my family and wondering how to draw the mountains where we lived instead of making the land look like the flat place under the sky. I remember puzzling over how to capture the look of my favorite cliff when drawing a bunch of large circles (rocks) and coloring them greyish-brown didn't quite get at it. I am not sure whether anyone taught me how beautiful the mountains were, but I feel certain that I knew it regardless. I knew it was more beautiful than I could capture in my drawings as a 5-year-old and that amazed me.

So it often makes me sad that my kids are growing up in a house without much of a yard in Indiana. There is hardly anything not man-made near us, since we live in the city. The houses around us a largely abandoned or severly lacking aesthetically (even ours these three years later...!) Even when we leave, to explore the natural landscape, the predominant characteristic is fields of either soybeans or corn. Mono-cropped fields are simply not natural beauty.

This weekend, we snagged the rare opportunity to plan plenty of fun outdoor adventure. On Friday night, we tried out camping in our backyard. This turned out to be quite a bit more adventurous than you might think. We decided, last-minute, to go buy a firepit for the occasion. I'm not sure why, since we didn't even roast marshmallows, but somehow camping doesn't seem complete without building a fire. Israel seemed to like the experience -- especially when I tried to get him to be still for a picture by having him watch the fire. In our discussion of it, I asked if he could see how the fire dances. He proceeded to dance around the yard (presumably like the fire) for quite some time, preferring the living of the moment to the capturing of it. He liked the tent and went to sleep at dark (around 10:00). Pat, Eden, and I stayed up a little later and sat around the fire, which was nice. There are street lights and flood lights that light up our back yard, but even so, we could see quite a few stars. I have a feeling that evening of sitting by the fire, looking at stars, and eating chocolate mint ice cream (a recent favorite...) will make it into my "favorite memories" file.

What will not make it into my "favorite memories" file is all the noise of camping in our back yard. There is a lot to learn by trying to sleep outside. I learned that someone likes rolling their trash totes back and forth (either that, or they own more than 2 trash totes) after 11:00 at night, four days before trash pick-up. I learned that Katya really likes sleeping with us at night -- enough to sit, overlooking us from a window, and meow until I would cave in and sleep in my bed. I learned that Pat, Israel, and Eden can sleep through anything. I, on the other hand, cannot. I gave up about 1:00 am and took Eden inside with me to sleep. It was just a little too chilly, anyway. I ended up getting a cold from exposure to the air. Who knew? Urban camping is not for wimps.

The next morning, we had the pleasure of going to the annual garden fair. I love the garden fair. It was not nearly as leisurely as it has been in the past, though pushing a double-stroller through the crowd does make for moving pretty slowly. Israel was a bit grumpy from staying up late and getting up early. (Apparently, sun rise is about 6:00 am; we're just not usually up to see it....) Even as a sleep-deprived family of four, we managed to shop around a bit and bought some plants to put in our front yard for this year. Eventually we will landscape, but in the meantime, I'm tired of mowing over the weed patch. I finally caved and bought a rhubarb plant after years of trying to grow one from a root ball or thinking I could transplant one from Kentucky. I hope it takes over the front yard!

We left the tent up and set up the fire again for our friends to use. Israel's friends Aidan and Allister came over to play for the evening while their mom and dad babysat for us. Pat and I left to enjoy being outside all by ourselves, but that is for another post. I made vegetable hobos for them to cook on the fire and when we left, they were all sitting around the card table under the ash tree, unfolding pieces of aluminum foil with their names on them.

We find natural beauty around and we try to capture it. We diamond-hunt for natural treasures. We love our 40x20 back yard. We love the leaves on the tree that hang down by our dining room window, even if the tree is in pitiful shape. We collect its "helicopters" to fling into the air and watch them come twirling down. We dig in the dirt and watch plants grow. We pitch our tent and look at the stars. We listen to the birds and stop everything if we see a squirrel while out on a walk. We hold worms and pick dandelions and splash in puddles. I hope that by learning to appreciate even our little plot of weeds and dirt in a monotonous landscape our kids will be able to find beauty in just about anything. And I can't imagine what they will do when confronted with something like camping in Red River Gorge. I hope that we can all learn to be amazed with the small things so that larger things will simply overwhelm us with joy.

Eden enjoying the fire

a blurry shot of Israel's fire dance

Israel loved being inside the tent!

Israel and Daddy reading Goodnight Moon before turning in

from silence to silence

Today is the one-year anniversary of my friends' baby's birth...and death. If she were still with us, she would be eight months younger than Israel and ten months older than Eden. As it is, she is preserved in all our memories as a brand-newborn that no one gets to play with. At the time I remember thinking to myself that one of Israel's friends had died and it still feels that way when I think about it. Many of us, if not all of us, are still dumbfounded when confronted with the reality of her brief visit here. I thought about her nearly every day when I was pregnant with Eden. I still wonder about her and why her life was as it was...if there is a reason. And if there is no reason, what, then? I am humbled to have two healthy kids and will be much less likely to take them for granted, knowing what I know. But surely that is not a good enough reason. That does not even begin to approach it being "worth it." And then, well, I can't imagine that parents would ever say losing their child was "worth it." So I think of Job's friends and consider it wiser just to leave such lines of questioning alone, for what is there to gain besides foolishness? I'll close the book of my own words about it and put it back on the shelf, then.

Even when I give up on my own analysis, I still don't know how to pray for the situation. I wrote before Eden was born of struggling to pray with my friends for her when I am not sure what prayer does sometimes. But even if I knew that God would do whatever I wanted for them, I still don't know what I would pray. Take the pain away? Well, how could you remember her very well if you were just made numb to the feelings that go along with your remembering? It sounds akin to asking God to help them forget just a bit. But I would never want to forget a child I lost! I wouldn't wish it on anyone! Would I ask God to give them more children? As they are expecting again, I do pray a lot for them to have a healthy child. I know the account of Job seems on the surface to read that everything was fine because God gave Job more kids after he lost his first ones, right along with more stuff to replace all the stuff he lost. But kids aren't like stuff; you can't just replace them. And I don't buy that that's what made Job's difficulties in life "worth it," anyway. Asking for things like peace during this time is probably along the right track, but in my mind it still feels a bit like asking God to just gloss over the past -- to wave his hand over it and smooth it out. I know peace is not supposed to be linked to circumstances, but the circumstances of her life still feel so not-okay to me that I don't even want to ask God anything close to, "Make it all okay." It's not okay.

So in church we took some time to pray for various difficulties people are having. This anniversary was one of many things that was prayed for. One person was supposed to pray for each request, but several prayed for our friends on this anniversary. I didn't take a stab at it, but a young teenager did and her prayer brought me to tears. She prayed something like this:

"God, I don't know what it's like to have your baby die. But I know what it's like to have someone you love so much die -- like my grandpa who died. And you just love them so much and they aren't there. Even if you didn't get to spend as much time with them as you wanted, you still love them. And it just hurts so bad. God, I know you can't just come down here and hug 'em, but do something. God, you've gotta do something for them. I know how it is."

I agree with that. God is the one who has to do something. I know it's correct theology to believe that God showing up is what made Job's life worth living. So I can pray that God would show up and do something. I don't know what it is, but He should know. And praying that God would do what it is He does is about as good a prayer as I can imagine. I have a hard time swallowing that things will ever feel okay on this date each year for my friends and the rest of us, but if anyone can show up and wipe away tears for good, it is God. And if He doesn't, I pray he will at least come cry with us and sit in our silence.

small joys

In keeping with my last post, here are a couple of the small joys I've recently experienced looking at the world with my kids.

On Wednesday, I took Israel on a Mommy-Son (and sleeping sister) date to the park to feed the (very not hungry) ducks. I remember always going to a little pond with my Nana as a kid and thinking it was the greatest thing. I'm sure Israel has similar feelings about the river and the ducks and tossing sticks in to watch them float downstream. They just never get old to him.

We saw "baby" ducks that Israel is still talking about.

If throwing small sticks in the water is fun...

While Israel takes his afternoon nap, Eden and I get to hang out -- just the girls. She loves the play mat we used with Israel. She smiles up at the patterns on the rods and likes to play with the rings we dangle down for her. She also doesn't mind practicing using her muscles to hold her head up and is getting pretty good at it. (If I'm able to get a not-very-blurry picture indoors with this camera, you know she's holding pretty still.)

It's just that sometimes being stuck on your belly gets old.

That's right. Our little 10-week-old girl can roll over. Insane. I was definitely not ready for that. I have her do it alot, since I still can't quite believe my eyes when it happens.

It's good to remember these job perks on a day like today, when I've had more than my share of messes to clean up (I've given five baths today, including the dog.) Still, it's totally worth it.

in gratitude for my job

(There is a new entry below as well, so don't miss it if you wanna see recent pics.)

I vaguely remember in college my professors appreciating my ability to be succinct in my writing. While I'm sure those of you who follow along read that as its own punch line, I thought, in an effort to return to my roots, this post would be a list.

I just finished a book a friend asked me to read by Dr. Laura called, "In Praise of Stay-at-Home Moms." Reading it made me more aware of why I wouldn't do anything else with my life right now, even on the days I spend mostly cleaning spit-up or poop or food off of things and people.

10 reasons why I wouldn't do anything else with my life:

1. I used to really want a job that would change people's lives; now I have one.
2. I have learned that it also makes adults feel better when a child kisses their boo-boos.
3. I am more keenly aware of how much bad there is in the world; conversely, my kids make me aware of how many little treasures there are hidden along the way.
4. I can be more understanding, realizing that most all people have been shaped by what they learned from their parents.
5. I get to learn how to be very happy over things like a bird or a train or poop in the potty.
6. My one year old's mimicking lets me know exactly how I sound to someone else. Talk about an incentive for personal growth!
7. I get paid in laughs and smiles and bouquets of stems and sticks.
8. Small gestures like putting a dish away can mean the world to me.
9. When someone compliments my child on a skill or virtue, I also get to receive the compliment. (The same is true of vices, I suppose, but people don't talk to you about those in grocery store lines!)
10. Being really good at my job means working to see the world through the eyes of my children. (I expect this to have great spiritual ramifications as well as the obvious benefits.)

odds and ends

Life has a way of getting busier and busier! We've been so busy doing lately that I have not really had the time to write about any of it. I'm afraid the busy-ness precludes me being able to write any sort of reflective, thoughtful post for now, but I wanted to post a few pictures to give you a peek into what life is like for us right now.

First of all, the kids. Because that's how everything goes around here.

Eden officially rolled over today! There have been a couple of times I put her on her stomach to return and find her on her back, but I thought they were probably just flukes. However, this time she rolled over right in front of me and when I put her back on her belly, she kept making the movements trying to do it again. Smart girl.

I have a son who is really trying to do everything I do and in general is growing up fast! He is transitioning out of his high-chair. He's leaving the baby sippy cups behind and is using the sippies that can actually spill. He is learning to wield a fork. We moved him into a regular bed and he LOVES being able to sleep there. The transition has been completely uneventful, except for me trying to adjust to my little boy stomping through the house to find me some mornings, saying, as though he's all grown-up, "Hi!" As grown-up as he can seem, his version of how to sleep in a regular bed is quite different from a grown-up's. He insists sideways is better than vertical. This was one day he just took it too far....



This is another way Israel tried to be like his mommy. Headbands make him so happy! (Don't worry, we don't let him leave the house like this, though I am posting the picture for the general public to see. Hypocritical? Maybe.)


If it wasn't already obvious from the head-band shot, Israel is in need of a haircut! But it's just so much fun...!Not to be out-done, Eden would like to show you her crazy bath-time hair. Her hair is naturally curly; it just doesn't like to dry that way yet.


Secondly, some of what we've been up to around the house. The weather is warm, and that means LOTS of kids around our house. We truly enjoy being able to supply the kids and teens around with hours of fun at our basketball hoop. We are meeting some pretty great new kids from down the street as well. Some of the kids, though, have no idea whatsoever how they are supposed to behave and, while this will only be helped by spending time with some adults who will show them how, I really don't want to be the teacher every time I step out by back door to play with Israel. So we've been trying to tackle some outdoor projects, which include a privacy fence and a short rock wall for a raised-bed garden.

When Pat's mom, Terri, was here a few weekends ago, his brother, Bob, also came to help for an afternoon and got the ball rolling by tearing out the yucky old chain-link fence and putting in some of the posts for the new privacy fence we bought with our tax return. (Thank you, George W.!) It was a busy day and Terri did a great job of helping entertain Israel and three of his cousins with her homemade play-dough. I think a good time was had by all and I'm sure we all slept well that night!

before...

The work begins. Pat and Bob took the fence....


I took on the lawn, as usual.

Grandma took on the kids!
(Not really sure which of us had the more difficult job!)

our progress as of this weekend...three weeks later!

...and we're still plugging away for about an hour each evening!

It takes a lot of work to do this sort of backyard make-over. And it is taking us a long time. But we have a good deal of help, really. Our neighbor Steve comes over every time he sees Pat working on the fence to help out. His expertise is invaluable; we don't know what we're doing! Israel can be a handful as he both does and does not want to "help" us in what we're doing. Add to this that we are still without fencing in places, and he can just run out of the yard if he is so inclined. This makes concentrating on a project not only difficult, but dangerous. Oftentimes, though, an older kid will come and play with Israel a few feet away while we work, which is so helpful. And every time I pull out the lawnmower, I have 2-3 kids begging me to let them help. So I mow until it's time for Eden to eat and then hand over the (very novel) mower. It's an old-style rotating blade mower that can be difficult to push through the grass at times, but thus far, the kids have all done a great job and thank me for the experience! Does it get better than that!?

It's nice to be forming more relationships with more kids in the neighborhood. Knowing them makes the swarm around my house not nearly as overwhelming as it was when we first moved here. (That, and now they know I will not give them a popsicle every day....) We like our life here and wouldn't be anywhere else.

then and now

My mom tells me that I had better be careful to record which baby is in what picture or else I will get them confused later on. While I agree with my mom about all kinds of things, I think she's wrong here. Here are pictures of our kids, both in the same outfit at 7 weeks of age.




Now, maybe it's just because I'm their mom and it's my job to stare into their faces for hours a day, but I don't really think they look alike. Of course, they look like brother and sister and there are a few resemblances (such as their having similar eyes). But, really. Who is going to confuse these kids?

I realize I do forget things about Israel as Eden starts to take over the "what my infants are like" portion of my brain for the time being. I know Israel had hair and I know that it was blonde from birth, but I really thought it was more visible than it seems in the picture. I do know that their demeanors are opposite from what these two pictures would tell you. Israel most often wore a skeptical kind of look on his face; Eden usually looks pretty happy and is currently smiling a lot. The noise I remember from Israel is a percussive, spitting noise that led directly into a cry. Eden's predominant noise in my mind is her cooing and her squeaking. Whether it's because there is so much else going on or because it's really quite soft in comparison to her brother's, Eden's cry is nothing noteworthy to me. I never used a monitor to know whether Israel was crying (who needed it?!) but I have gone in to check on Eden to find that she is crying and has been for who knows how long, which would make a monitor a good idea if it weren't just one more thing to remember. As an infant, Israel seemed to skip the small reminder that he was there and getting hungry, preferring to go straight to the, "Why aren't you sitting around just waiting to feed me?! I'm MAD!" scream. Eden, on the other hand, wakes up saying, "I think I could eat now...or later...whichever." Some things about them are the same, I'm sure, but these two just feel so different from each other to me.

Just recently, I had a day when I was playing with Eden before Israel got up and kept thinking, "Oh, no. I don't want Israel to get up. This is my favorite time of the day." And I began to be afraid that Eden was my favorite kid. I started plotting how never to let Israel know this. He woke up and Eden went to sleep. After Israel and I had chatted over breakfast and snuggled in the recliner together to watch Sesame Street, I started thinking, "Oh, no. I don't want Eden to get up. This is my favorite time of the day." And I began to be afraid that Israel was my favorite kid. And then I smiled to myself and realized that everything was alright. For all their differences, Israel and Eden have in common that they are my favorite kids.