Bad Words

C: Mom, Henry just came into my room and said the "F" word.

Me: What's the "f" word?

C: Farted. He said farted.

Me: oh.

TIME for a change....

The days have been full lately. iPhones, just six days old, found in the bottom of a potty. "Check engine" lights on in the car, and then back off. Clothes that suddenly don't fit on children and piles more to be stored or given away. Meanwhile there is always a pile in the laundry room, always dishes in the dishwasher and always someone who needs "something else to eat". So I took the picture above today, when I looked down to check the time and realized I was wearing two watches. It's not that I am that time conscious...I have no meetings to go to, no appointments to make. It's just that I have been that overstimulated by life lately. Don't you love the little messages that life sends you when things have been too full? Better to listen to the little signs than let them grow and morph into ones that show up in more pronounced ways. Looks like Momma needs some downtime!

This is a fun picture of Hannah at the Children's Garden near our new home. It is my new favorite outing for us during the week. Sand for little ones, big play houses for bigger ones, and lots of benches for the biggest one to sit on. Plus creeks and woods to explore on trails not far away. And here is a recent picture of William. Do you see the determination in his eyes? He has recently learned the word "no" and he says it with a strength that tells me we will get to deal with a lot of things "head on" and quite soon too!

Sugar and Spice

I think I might want to be a seven year old girl again. It has been so fun to watch Caroline and her friends lately; they are so lovely in their work and play. Seven year old girls seem to enjoy their beauty, regardless of who they are or what they look like. It is not competitive in spirit, simply fun and expressive of the excitement they have in being able to be a girl. Nail polish, new braids, a sparkly shirt....they are all simply fun new things to enjoy, and they are glad to share and tell each other of the fun new thing they have discovered in the world of beauty. Girls this age are also very nurturing. They adore small babies and stop to coo at them, or ask to hold them. They think that being a mother is a high calling and they constantly mimic it in their games. They are not pretending to be business CEOs or accountants or even doctors as much as they are pretending, and maybe even arguing over who gets to be "the mother". And there is such beauty in their friendship as they play! They run to see each other, hugging and often holding hands without a thought. They write notes to each other, make art for one another and dressing alike is a great treat. Caroline is seven and a half right now. She is writing letters to friends near and far away almost daily, giving away lollipops to her siblings for Valentines and she is most excited about a planned trip to the American Girl doll store with her parents for her birthday. She adores her baby brother and is patient with her two year old sister in a way any mother would want to be herself. She giggles with her friends and is so glad to be "playing family" with them, or "country house". And I feel so lucky to watch it all. I know this beauty will have to change and transform, but even on dark days, I will know that it is there.

The little things...

The sign outside the new church's meeting place:
This weekend was a strange juxtaposition of events. On Saturday, Brandon and I attended the funeral of a next door neighbor (one we have only recently met). We listened to his young adult children tell stories of his kindness and care for their family. They mentioned his frequent singing, his efforts to attend soccer games despite travel, and the fun of family camping trips. It was sad to hear of their great loss; he was only 57 years old. Then Sunday, we attended the first church service of Grace Presbyterian Church, a new church plant in the NorthEast. The sun was shining, sparkling across the surface of the lake beside our meeting place as a new group of families and adults met to worship for the very first time. The music was amazing as a mandolin joined guitars as well as an accomplished pianist; the service was surprisingly smooth. A joyful beginning and a sorrowful ending all in one weekend, but both were the culmination of a million "little" things. Bill's sons never mentioned honors or awards, accomplishments in his job. They did share his meeting his first grandson, holding him and singing to him right away. They spoke of specific poems he wrote to them, jokes he told them. All that was ordinary and common and good in his life. It was a lot of little things. And as I walked into our "new church" this Sunday, I could see the fabric of a church body woven from different people who joined together with many different ideas and strengths: the woman who picked back up the violin in order to play for worship, the friend who thought of another way to set up the downstairs nursery, the family that was a part of the original committee that researched whether a church should be planted in the NorthEast. Sunday's service was the culmination of many little threads of life, all coming together over time for His goodness and glory to be shown. The little things really do mean a lot. It was a good reminder to me. I think I should go and read Fancy Nancy for the 201st time.

Creative Minds

I know I have written this before...but one of my favorite things about children is seeing how each of them is different and unique, especially within a family. This week I have been seeing how God made my son John Mac with a very creative way of looking at things. During school, I asked John Mac to fill in an empty egg carton that was labelled with numbers 1 to 12 with dried beans. I asked him to pretend that he was a farmer, filling it up with the right number of "eggs" to give to his customers. I expected him to count out the beans in an orderly fashion, one bean in the section with the number one, then two beans in the section with the number two...etc. Instead he would grab a few beans in his hand, drop them down on the table, and then count the number he had grabbed. Let's say he had grabbed seven beans, then he would place those beans on the number seven and go to grab another group of beans. It was a type of bean lottery really to fill up the slots from 1 to 12. Not in an orderly fashion, but fulfilling the requirements in a creative manner....

Then, later that same day, unbeknownst to me, John Mac was trying to describe cinnamon rolls to me. He said, "I want you to make that bread that is in a log and rises high". I just was not catching it at all. He tried several times, with his usual patience, and then he finally walked towards me and placed his forehead against mine. "I just wish you could see the picture in my head Mommy". He told us at dinner last night that when he is grown up he will have pictures of all the pictures in his head. "So you want to go into photography?", we asked. He just looked at us quizzically. I think only he knows what he means by this....

Leaving Again

Today we are leaving another church. Our family is being sent out of First Presbyterian Church in the city of Columbia to start Grace Presbyterian Church in NorthEast Columbia. We have only been at First Presbyterian for seven months. We have always known there would be a leaving; we moved to Columbia to start Grace Presbyterian. Yet my heart is heavy today. It somehow feels hard to leave another church "family". Certainly not as hard as our first leaving of a church to move to Columbia, but still hard. I am ready to be rooted, ready to know and be known by others. Ready to rub shoulders with people weekly, some of whom I have only Jesus in common with them.

Many don't come to churches to visit and certainly not to find family. As a pastor's wife, I have to attend church. It is not a question for me. And this was a helpful reality for me that pushed me toward the biblical reality that Jesus wants us all to love his bride the church. But I have found that the bond of a church can be like bond of family. Things are not always beautiful, calm and serene. People with real holes and real wounds attend weekly, but the commitment of Jesus to love and to heal is only real when it is worked out in normal everyday lives bound together. And when you get these glimpses of gospel truth shining through...it is as beautiful as those rare moments when my four year old son tells my six year old son: "I don't just like you, I love you!"

A Hannah Story

Just a small thing I need to remember and write down: the other day Hannah was singing, "If you're happy and you're smart, clap your hands...If you're happy and you're smart, clap your hands". She sang it with such confidence that I knew I needed to stop and understand this new version of "If you're happy and you know it". Then I remembered that I often say to Hannah, "Hannah, you are so smart, you know it". Thus, Hannah has re-made her song...she is happy, she knows it, and thus, she is smart!