600th Post.

When I was little I would crawl up

and across the backyard fence

until I reached that place of refuge

I've been chasing after since.


Lying blankets down upon the roof

above my father's shed

after all the wasps had bedded down

and stilled their buzzing dread.


And I used to think the grandest show,

it danced above my head,

in the inky black before me-

my family tucked safe in their beds.


But now I see that rooftop was a stage,

and it was I

who was captivating all the breath

and grandeur of the sky.


The mountains strained their eyes

to see the outline of a girl

perched upon her rooftop harbor

with her blonde bob in a twirl.


And there my brother's hand-me-downs,

all the scrapes upon my knees,

transformed from blemish into virtue

like an artist's masterpiece.


All of this must have been the wonder

I felt filling up my breath

as I drank in all the stars

and felt my dreams pound in my chest.


And yet, these days I feel quite swallowed up,

like a pebble in the sea...

oh! how I long to feel that awe again-

The awe of You inside of me.

Snapshot, yo.

Skylana tagged me for this. I think the rules are that you have to take a photo of yourself as soon as you see you've been tagged and you're not allowed to primp or aquanet or grab your nearest BumpIt.

So... uh... here's my face as of about 2 minutes ago.

I tag:

piper
laura
rebecca
mrs boo radley
danae
jess
halle

Mwa ha ha ha.

Closet Cartoonists.

For the longest time, whenever Ezra would draw, it would just be 'rollercoasters'. That's where he'd take a marker or crayon and draw squiggles as fast as he could, followed quickly by his asking if he could go play already.

But lately, he's been actually drawing. Stuff! And I couldn't love it more if I tried.

"Master Oogway"

"Po"

"viper"

Maybe, deep down, he's a closet cartoonist, just like his mamma...

Lashing out.

Myer secretly has long eyelashes just like his big brother and his mamma do. They weren't of the SHOW STOPPING intensity that Ezra's were right after he was born, but I think they've gotten longer in these past 3 months.

(Our hospital room filled with squealing nurses right after ezra was born- because his eyelashes were TOUCHING his eyebrows and they were BLACK dark. It. was. IS. insane.)

Myer's are blonde tipped, so they are harder to see than Ezra's (and harder to photograph), but as you can see, there are a few that are quite a bit longer than the rest. And only over his right eye.


These rouge lashes hang OVER his line of sight and drive me bonkers. I'm always trying to brush them out of his way just in case he can see them and they are slowly messing up his focus or something.

So..... what to do? TRIM them? Curl them? Ignore them? Sell them on ebay?

I'm at a loss. A lash induced loss.

What would YOU do?

myer elliot- three months.

oh, sweet myer.

You feel more like an old companion than a wee 15 week old thang. I don't believe in reincarnation, but I do believe in 'old souls'... eyes that are deeper and spirits that are somehow smoother and more aware. You are an old soul.

And you are already a full incarnation of your name, child.

You are a "Bringer of Light". You are a Lantern Holder at the house gate... Lighting up new dimensions of happiness in your mamma's heart, in your brother's heart, in your papa's heart.

You slipped right into your familial spot like a ball being thrown to a juggler at just the right moment. Suddenly, there were more of us in the air, in the equation, but you were absorbed so seamlessly- it was like there was always space for you- just waiting for you to tumble in and fill it.

You are definetly a "rolls with the punches" kind of a guy. Nothing ruffles your feathers too much. You can get ticked, but it lasts about 8 seconds... and then you're over it.

I like that in a man.

It's almost like you're all, "Rawr! The NERVE of some people! How DARE you?! How dare you... how... how... meh. This is SO not worth my time."

This will be a good trait to maintain, son, because probably 97% of the stuff we adults spend our time fretting over and stressing over and wearing our bodies down over aren't really even worth a second thought.

You talk a lot more than Ezra ever did when he was a baby. You concentrate very hard on your conversations with people, and today in the backseat, while we were driving back home, you said something that sounded EXACTLY like "underwear". Ezra and I looked at eachother and just started busting our guts. I had tears in my eyes it was so funny. And then, a couple of days ago, I could have sworn you said 'umbrella'.

You also have this one noise you repeat often that sounds like a goo-y version of "ezra".

Whenever you do that one and your big brother is around, he just about blows a gasket. He thinks it's so hilarious and he gets right in your face and says "yes? can i hewlp you, mymy?" And then he laughs some more.

See? Bringer of light.



You are more than I could have ever dreamed for, darling. I fear these moments are slipping away too fast. My memory has never been worth beans, and there's a deep feeling of panic in my gut that these times with you are slipping out of my reach like someone pouring lemonade through a colander. There is this terror in me that there will only a few bits of pulp left to sort through in my mind as time steamrolls on.

I want to remember everything about you. Every facial expression, every sound, and the way your toes seem to sit on top of your foot like ten of those little cocktail sausages.

I know it's impossible to capture someone fully in memories like that, but I'm going to try and keep as much of you as I can in my mind.

I can think of no lovelier thing to fill the space with.

I love you, bean.

~mamma

One of the Best Days of my Life.

It was going to be such a beautiful day today that I knew I just had to get out of the house with the kiddos. We headed down to Bricktown to walk around and enjoy the weather.

Every time I wear Myer in the sling, people here FREAK OUT. They stop me and ask me allllll about the sling and is he comfortable in there? and oh look how cute he is! It's like they've never seen anything like it out here! I've learned that if I need to get anything done, I just can't make eye contact with people while we're out and about and he's in here, otherwise I'd have to stop and talk to every person that walks by us. Today, though, we had absolutely NO agenda, and I got to really enjoy random conversations with people about Myer and his mode of transportation.

Ezra doing "big arms!" in front of the fountain.

We ate at Sonic, which normally I DO NOT like, but today it was tasty and the employees were so sweet and fun. Also, there was some random Disney Dog movie on one of the TVs and Ezra was mesmerized. So cute.

My attempt at a shot of the three of us. Ezra and I split a Marble Slab ice cream cone. Oh, and I dipped Myer's pacifier in the melty goodness a couple of times, but he didn't even seem to care. Whaaaa? Who's child is this??

View of downtown.


Happiest boy on planet earth. This kid is such a joy to be around. I was laughing so hard all day long just because of the funny things he says and does. Like, on our way home, this pedestrian wearing a headband Hulk-Hogan-style darted out in front of us and other cars and then realized his mistake and ran back to the corner to wait his turn, and Ezra yells out "Mom! You totally almost got that Pirate!!"

I. was. dying.


Bricktown.

Myer slept most of the time. He LOVES being outside, and never even makes a sound when we're out and about. If he's ever fussy at home, I usually just have to walk him out on the back deck and he's instantly fine again. I think he likes the way the breeze feels on his face.

After Bricktown we stopped in at my favorite book store so that Ezra could play trains. I nursed Myer and caught up on all the new children's books that are out (I absolutely love children's books and I follow the happenings of the industry pretty closely. In my opinion, there's nothing better than a really good children's picture book. There have been quite a few great ones released lately, btw.)

I lost myer's paci somewhere in the bookstore, so we made a quick stop into Target where I found the AWESOMEST binkies ever. This one says 'Hi', and the other says 'No Comment'. Very clever... I like that in a paci.

By the time we got home, both kids were fast asleep and I got some quiet time by myself at the house. Chris came home not long after that, so we all went and ate pizza at the place down the street- and then I got to go out by myself after the kids were in bed. I went and spent my forever21 gift card and wandered around feeling like I'd never been happier in my life.

Maybe it's all the fresh air and sun and exercise I've been getting lately. I just feel so content and satisfied these days, it's all I can do to not start singing at the top of my lungs everywhere I go.

la la la la laaaa la la !

Sole Expectations.

I have never exercised.

I just haven't.

I was always very active when I was younger with competitive gymnastics and cheerleading and softball and yoga and rockclimbing and show choir (SHUT UP), but I've never ever ever just EXERCISED.

Actually, I've been a total lump on a log since college- not doing anything even remotely active or good for my body in any way shape or form. I tried joining the YMCA a couple of years ago, but ended up only going to a few yoga classes and then getting bored.

Chris mentions this every once in awhile... he says that maybe I should start doing something... ANYthing, because he likes my heart (due to the fact that it keeps me alive and stuff) and he wants me to take good care of it so that it will stay healthy and strong.

I've always shrugged him off. I've just had NO desire to be active the last few years.

But, within the last few days, all I have been able to think about is running. Now, if you know me in real life at all, you will know that this is like me saying I am suddenly really stoked about lighting my eyelashes on fire.

I have always been adamant about two things in my life: I HATE running, and I REFUSE to try seafood.

Maybe this new desire to run is stemming from my body finally saying, "enough is enough, I need some activity". Maybe it's this glorious Spring weather that came knocking on my door two days ago. (Also- what the heck?!? I don't generally like the sunshine. Or the sun. I am happiest on gloomy days of rain or snow. The sun makes me grumpy. But, I've actually really enjoyed the last few sunny days! I'm like a different human or something!) Maybe it's the fact that caring for two children all day is often a completely mind-numbing experience, and my body is trying to help my brain out by getting it outdoors and in some fresh air.

I don't really know. It's very very weird.

I've gone running twice now. Not far, not for long... just to the park and around the block and back... and it has been great. Mostly because I've taken my hubby's iPod and gotten to listen to good music. Each time I've gone, I've felt like I burst through the bubble I've created over my house and am reminded that there is actually a WORLD out there. One that is beautiful and full of experiences and God.

I think it also may have something to do with the fact that I recently started reading this book by Francis Chan. The first chapter or two talk about how our universe is HUGE beyond our wildest imaginations. Our tiny planet and sun and solar system are part of an itty-bitty galaxy within an ocean of galaxies. And that ocean of galaxies is just a drop within another ocean of galaxies... and so on and so on... You know, endless ginormous-ness.

Conversely, Chan uses the example of the fact that a simple little caterpillar has 250 separate muscles in its head alone.

Awe inspiring.

God is SO large. And yet has so intricately detailed everything He has made. And the earth is such a small part of all of this... we are such a small part of all of this. At the end of my millisecond of a life on this microscopic planet, I want to be found as having lived for something worthwhile. Something enduring. I want to have lived for God. And not just for myself.

My mind cannot, obviously, comprehend all of this in one sitting. It's just too much for the human brain to soak up right away, I think. So... suddenly I find myself just wanting to RUN. Because... what else can you do? What else am I going to do? I can't just sit here with all this spinning in my brain... I've got to get up and MOVE.

(Well, hello there, inner-Forrest Gump! I did not know you were in there! Shall I also pick up a ping pong paddle and see where that takes me? hmmmmm?)

Anywho, it's good for me and my heart. I like it. It makes me feel happier and clears my thoughts a bit. And who knows? Maybe it will bring freshness to my spirit. Maybe it's a physical representation of what God is calling me towards in my own life: Taking steps. One foot in front of the other... pushing back the walls of what I've come to EXPECT from myself & Him.

The more I expect from God, the more of Him I'll see. The more I expect from my own life, the farther I'll go.

I just know it.

Columbine.

Crystal Miller- Beauty from the Ashes from Ryan Scott on Vimeo

My dear friend Crystal was in the library at Columbine High School 10 years ago today when her life was suddenly, and violently, flipped upside down. Since that day, she has been laboring hard to spread a message of hope to people dealing with tragedy in the world. Please take a moment to watch this video... she is currently filming a documentary about her experiences on that day and since, and this is a taste of what's to come.

You can also catch her tonight on NBC's Nightly News with Brian Williams. (check your local listings for times.)

Her book is available here.

My husband, Chris, wrote the music for the video posted above. I am so very proud of him.

And I'm also proud of my friend Crystal, who's very life is a blinding example of beauty rising up out of the ashes- bringing hope to the darkest of places in the darkest of times.

The Second Time Around.

Becoming a mother for the first time is... probably the biggest shifting that a woman will ever experience in her life. When you give birth to that first child, the ground underneath your feet raises up a tad, all dreamy-like, and then suddenly it jolts so far to the left that you're standing in Japan. You are no longer even close to the place you'd occupied in life just moments before.

My God! You're someone's MOTHER!

This momentous shift was not an easy one for me to adjust to. Because... I didn't want to be in Japan! I wanted to be back in my old, comfy, well-worn plot in life! I think I spent the first three years of Ezra's life trying to hitch hike my way back across that ocean. No one would give me a lift, however. Probably because I smelled like sour milk. And had the craaaazy eyes.

It almost makes me feel badly for all the firstborns in the world out there. Because every firstborn is the son or daughter to a firstmom. And that's just plain scary, no? I, as a firstmom, was pretty much clueless to things like time management, baby care, and... oh... emotional stability and whatnot. (Not that I'm any more stable now, but at least now I'm aware of my instability- And aware that this instability is universal for people of the mom-persuasion. See? That right there is Progress!)

My experience with becoming a second-time mother has been a very different one than the first. In the four years between children, I've grown comfortable in my role as a mother. Not that I have mothering all figured out... that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that thinking of myself as a mother, as someone's actual mother, has become second nature- whereas before, this thought made me want to run screaming into my own mother's arms- burying my face there until all the responsibility and sacrifice passed by me and I could emerge happy and carefree again.

Being comfortable in my role as a mother has been the main difference in my experience with the birth of my second child. It has been, all-around, much easier. I have fallen in love with the mamma in me. I see now that she was always a part of me, waiting in the wings for her time on stage. I am no longer afraid of what I lost in crossing over into motherhood, I am now more acutely aware of what I've gained.

I am still completely ungraceful and bumbling when it comes to things like, oh... time management, positive discipline, and basic baby care. You'd think I'd been raising two sacks of potatoes over here if you ever saw the day-to-day chaos and tomfoolery that make up my life at the moment. Forgetting to change the baby's diaper for 8 hours at a time... almost leaving the house to go get ezra from school without bringing the baby along... writing myself ridiculous notes like 'DO SOME LAUNDRY' or 'EAT BREAKFAST' or 'BREATHE IN AND THEN OUT. (REPEAT AS NECESSARY.)'

(That's an important one right there.)

It's like a crazy, messy, loud, wild, colorful, boisterous gypsy camp here most days.

But it's a gypsy camp I wouldn't trade for the world! Because I get to be the lovely gypsy mamma! And this wacky little brood of mine... it is rich with rumpled, scruffy joy. Joy that's rough around the edges yet better for the wear- like an old family photo carried faithfully in a back pocket.

An Ongoing Synopsis of My Day.

****

morning

it's so dark and dreary outside, yet still i've got my windows and doors flung open to it. because sometimes you can't get the fresh air moving without letting in some of the gloom.

****

afternoon

the baby is being completely unreasonable. crying and crying and crying and crying and crying. all i can think about right now is how good it would feel to swan dive off a big rock into the ocean... staying under the green water until my lungs felt like they were going to burst, then breaking through the surface at the last possible moment and greedily overdosing on the air.

****

I threw his pacifier at the wall. because it was better that than the baby monitor. I think it fell behind a dresser somewhere. i don't know. i can't be bothered to go look for it. it's useless anyways.

****
early evening

things are a tiny bit calmer as i got myer to drift in and out of sleep instead of screaming like a wild banshee like he was before. i'm trying to be kind to myself at the moment- heating up a cup of coffee and getting my cozy blanket to snuggle up with ezra and watch some kung fu panda. but... i gotta tell ya, my mind is a million miles away- wandering an arctic tundra somewhere on cold, tired feet.

****

The little booger just laughed. He chuckled at me. I've never really heard him do that before. I repaid the favor by baptizing him in mascara-stained tears. maybe God does have a sense of humor, afterall.

****

his ears are like little cinnamon rolls.

The Biggest Smallness.

image here.

Yesterday was rough.

Actually, this whole week has been a bit rough.

Let's just say I haven't gotten to leave the house a whole lot in the last few days. The two times I can think of stepping out of my house, it was to be around a whole bunch of other kids and babies. Which normally is a lovely break for me... the brief snippets of conversations with other moms are usually enough... but this week it wasn't. I've been holed up with these kids for days on end and I'm starting to go a wee bit crazy.

On Tuesday, I was so excited to drop Ezra off at school so that I could be (SOMEWHAT) alone that I did one of those hoppity joy jumps in the parking lot after getting Myer in his car seat. I pulled open the door to my car, all but leapt inside, and felt like singing. I've had a little bitty gift card to forever21 that I've been trying to spend for weeks now, but every time I attempt it, I'm foiled. Usually by a certain crying baby butt. (Not naming any names... MYER.)

So, Tuesday, I decide I'm going to attempt it again. He cried the whole time. And then, while attempting to browse the clothing like I wasn't bothered by my son's fussiness (I was... it was making me all sweaty), my phone rang. It was Ezra's school calling to see if I could come get him because Ezra wasn't being his normal "chipper self". In the two years he's been going there, I've never gotten a call to come get him. OF COURSE it happened now... the day I needed a break more than I can ever remember needing one.

So, I went and got him. He had been sitting on the couch in the front foyer, waiting for me, and he hadn't moved a muscle. He was looking very tired and grim. My mommy heart broke for him. Yet, somehow, by the time I got him out to the car, he was miraculously... HYPER. Again. Bouncing off the walls and feelin' grand. I looked at my watch. It was going to be a looooong day.

Then yesterday, Ezra was acting really mellow. We had plans to go to dinner last night at a friend's house- plans that we were both looking forward to very much- but due to a voicemail message that disappeared off the face of the earth, it didn't end up happening. Also, Ezra woke up from his nap on the couch HOLDING HIS EAR.

Oh... lord have mercy.

Every mom knows that sick children = days upon days of (you guessed it!) not leaving the house.

My attitude was tanking hard at this point. Tears were just at the surface- one or two leaking out every time I knew someone wasn't looking. My arms are sore from baby holding, my ears hurt from Ezra's constant sniffling, and I'm tired of being covered in goo all the time.

I feel like every single time I've tried to make plans for myself the last few weeks, they never end up happening. Because no one can watch the kids. Because the kids are sick. Because I am required to be at my baby's beck-and-call 24/7. I somehow forgot how suffocating this all can feel. I forgot that now, my plans/needs/desires come last. I forgot how it feels like life is suddenly a movie... a movie that you are watching in the dark while everyone else gets to live it and act it out.

So, later last night, when I got a text that some friends were getting together for drinks, I fled. I got dressed in regular clothes and I all but RAN out the door.

At this point, it sill hadn't occurred to me that God may have been trying to get my attention this whole time. When EVERYTHING seems to be going awry, it probably isn't just a coincidence.

I was so excited to be out of the house, that when I pulled up to the restaurant, I hopped out of the car without even turning my headlights off. I noticed my mistake and went back and switched them off before heading inside.

After being there for about 4 minutes, my phone rang.

It was my house number.

My heart sunk. Because I wanted to be doing what I wanted to be doing. And going back home was not in that game plan. I tasted anger and bitterness in my mouth. I DESERVED this break.

It was Chris. His voice was shaky. He asked me to come home.

There was an emergency at my friend/neighbor's house and she needed my help. There was an ambulance in front of their house, and their 3 year old daughter was being taken to the hospital.

My hands and feet went instantly numb. My stomach lurched. I ran out to my car and raced back to my neighborhood, back home, praying like I hadn't in... maybe forever. She had had a seizure. That was all that I knew.

I stayed at their house with their sleeping baby while my friend and her mother went to the hospital to meet the ambulance. After they left, everything was eerily quiet. And, just like that, my bad attitude slapped me in the face.

How selfish I've been. How privileged and entitled I've felt. Yeah, it's one thing to need a break, but it's another thing entirely to feel like the world OWES you one. Like you have the right to throw a giant pity party when things don't go your way. I've chosen this life and been blessed with these kids, and it wasn't until I was sitting in this quiet house- faced with the reality that it is all so fragile and delicate- that I finally got the message: "It's not all about you."

No matter how much I want to be the center of the universe, it's not going to happen. Expecting people to bend to my every whim and passing thought is unfair. Immature. Gross. I don't want to waste my life living that way. If I allow my heart to continue on in that, it will wither. It will get smaller and smaller, until there is only room for me in it, and I will be all alone.

I was reminded that I need to be faithful with what's in front of me if I'm going to ever have an impact on anyone or anything else in this world. And being faithful with these things doesn't make me small or insignificant... if I can't handle what's on my plate well now, how am I ever going to handle more? It would be a disaster.

This all seems so basic... so why do I forget it every 5 minutes?

My friend's little girl is fine. They came home a couple of hours later. Her fever had risen really high, really quickly, and caused her to have a seizure. It was absolutely terrifying and awful and gut-wrenching, but she is going to be okay.

I walked slowly back over to my own house. The street was quiet and I looked up at the stars. And I felt small. And wretched with myself. Like my heart was nothing but a warty toad. It's such a strange dichotomy, all of this... feeling like I have God inside of me calling me towards great things, but also being so unbelievably SMALL, and TEMPORARY on this earth. How does all this bigness and smallness wrapped in skin fit together in the end?

I'm not really sure. All I know is that, last night, I felt the GOD of the UNIVERSE whispering to my heart... and all He was calling me to do was walk through my front door, go to my babies rooms, and hold them tight.

And that felt plenty big enough for me.

Sought After.

The warm vacations that we spent lazing around as a family on rented houseboats were the very best. My mom would be crazy with all the organizing and meal planning and preparation that it takes to sustain a family of five (with a few added barnacles in the form of friends) for a whole week out on the water. There were mountains of ice chests and life jackets, bulky guitars and fishing poles, gobs of gummy snacks and sunblock. There were plenty of card games and bags of beef jerky. There were those little cigars that my dad loves and my mom hates.

Everyone would be feeling the stress of all the packing and the driving and the dealing with the greasy gatekeeper-of-a-man in the decaying rental shack near the water's edge. And then there was the chore of loading all of our mountains of stuff onto the boat. Back and forth, like little ants, we were... armful after armful... stocking up our new buoyant home as if that little houseboat were returning us to the mother land. Or rounding the Cape of Good Hope.

But then, oh then! Like a mini landrush, we'd all pile on board and quickly stake our claim. Mine was always the reclineable deck chair planted firmly on the roof.

Someone would untie the thick wet rope from the cleat, place their foot upon the wooden finger of a dock sticking out from the earth, and shove us off.

Instantly, peace.

There is something so cozy about floating along in the warm lagoons on a vessel that holds your entire family. You're all captives together, seeing as how there are no emergency escape pods anywhere, and the sun shining down warms all your shoulders evenly. Quiet brothers become silly friends. Tired mothers become diving partners. Hardworking fathers become your laughing captain.

And you? You become the best version of yourself. Because all the laughter in your ears is like nourishment and it fattens you up. And the stars in the inky black sky every night stuff your breaths right back down into your chest from the wonder of it all. You are feeling quite full, actually.

I think of these days often. I think of the security I felt from having all of us together, in the same boat. I've never felt anything so grounding as that in all of my life.

I think of the time that our large raft got caught up in a gust of wind and started to drift away from the boat. About how I thought I could be the hero and swim after it by myself... bringing it back like a conquered foe. I swam and I swam- the raft just inches from my grasp, but slipping further away with every moment. I didn't hear my mother's desperate cries, telling me to swim back, swim back, swim back. To leave the raft to the wind and turn back to the safety of the boat. Before I knew it, I was too far. Too far from the raft. Too far from the boat.

And suddenly very, very tired.

In the moment just before the tightening panic was about to wrack my body, I felt a firm grip on my arm. It was my brother, come to rescue me. Come to bring me back. I hadn't even heard him approaching. I felt the relief of that strong grip wash over me from head to toe as I held tight to my brave face and lied and assured everyone that I had been in complete control the whole time. My mother cried. I sat panting on the deck with a towel warmed by the sun wrapped around my shoulders. And I felt retrieved.

Sought after.

Rescued.

And this feeling, attached to this childhood memory, is forever what Easter will mean to me.

God... the One who dove in after us.

We win Easter.

We did our egg hunt today because there are big storms rolling through tonight and tomorrow, and also because I wanted to beat you all to it. I wanted to WIN Easter.


Here's the play-by-play action:
egg dunkin' in jammies.



gratuitous baby shot.



father and son Easter glee.


chris often points out the fact that if we dyed ezra's hair dark, we'd have the exact same hair. How much of a creepy mini-me would he look like if we did that?! hahahahaaaa.


the boy cleans up nice.



swoooooon. my husband in vintage hats makes me all melty inside.



we were waiting for our neighbor friend to arrive, so we kept telling ezra not to peek and find all the eggs before she even had a chance. have you ever tried to tell a four-year-old to ignore all the easter eggs? here's a tip for you should you ever find yourself in such a position: go out and buy yourself the thickest blindfold on the market.


THEN BUY YOURSELF TWO MORE.


Ahhhh. Here she is! Totally worth the wait, yes?



the hunt is on.



this is his "or somefing?" face. As in...
"Maybe I could eat this candy or somefing, mamma?"



finally, scouring the plunder...



...and taking no prisoners.


Easter was one of those holidays that got totally lame between the ages of about 16 through 21. Because... like... hunting for eggs is totally for BABIES. And between those ages, I was too cool to go snuffing all through the bushes and grass for a jelly bean or two, you know? Pshaw. As if.

But, then I realized that all you have to do to enjoy these silly holiday traditions again is to get yourself around some kids. They don't have to be your kids, per say. They can be cousins or nephews or neighbor babies or your friend's little urchins.

Then, crouch down to these kid's levels, make eye contact, and ask them to tell you about the Holiday.

You will suddenly love these silly holiday traditions again, I swear. Probably more than you ever have before.

Like, how ezra told me the other day that jesus got died and then put in the big rock by all the bad womens.

"Bad womens?", I asked him incredulously.

"Yeah. The bad, bad womens."

Thank God for Chris. If he hadn't been listening to this little convo, I may have marched into his Sunday school class and cried sexism.

"Oh, buddy... do you mean the Romans?", he asked gently.

"Yeah! I said that! The WOmans!"

Pure gold, that.

The One Who Loved me First.

- On Thursday, Chris realized that the women's retreat I was meant to be going to the next day really needed some one to come set up all the sound equipment for them. And even though it was totally last minute and there was nothing in it for him, he drove THREE HOURS down to the retreat with Ezra in tow and set up all the sound gear for us. And then he turned around a drove back home. And he did all of this CHEERFULLY! Because, get this, he just wanted to serve the women of the church! And I fell in love with him allll over again.

- He followed me down there (I had myer in my car with me) and pulled over with me three or four times so that I could calm my SCREAMING baby in the backseat. I was meant to have someone in the car with me on the way down, but it fell through at the very very last minute. The stress of driving all the way down there by myself with myer almost did me in. I would have turned around and gone home in tears if my husband had not been there to support me.

- While I was away at the retreat, he cleaned the house from top to bottom and did lots of fun things with ezra. Including the first official "Ezra & Daddy Dance Party". (I will try to post the video they made later.)

- When I slumped through the door last night after the retreat, he had the house SPOTLESS, all the laundry done, candles lit everywhere, jazz music on the stereo, and a tray of fresh fruit and cheese out for me to nibble on. Also, THERE WAS WINE.

- He put myer to bed and told me to take a bubble bath. I went from being a stressed-out ball of nerves to a pampered wife in a matter of seconds. After my bath, I fell into bed, (which had fresh sheets on it, btw) and passed out from exhaustion.

- This morning, he woke up early with the kids. He made me coffee (as he does every morning). He had to leave early for church, but before he left, he cleaned all the stuff out of my car and put the kid's car seats back in so that I wouldn't have to worry about it.


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I know he would be embarrassed if he knew I was typing all of this right now, but sometimes a little public acknowledgement is in order. He baffles me. He makes me want to be a better human being. A better wife. A better mother.

And, something I have been learning through all of this love of his, is that it is a gift. A gift for me... but not just from Chris. It is a gift from the God I love. He loves me through my husband's love. When Chris loves me so well, I feel like I am being loved by God himself.

I am also learning how to receive these outpourings of service and love from my husband without feeling like I need to "pay it all back" right away. It's almost like, before, when Chris would go above and beyond for me, I would never allow myself to fully enjoy it, because in the back of my head I was already trying to figure out how in the HECK I could ever repay him for it all.

Doesn't that sound crazy? But something is changing in me.

God lavished His love on me even though He knew I could never EVER even HOPE to "repay" Him.

And just like with my husband, I think I have missed out on a lot of things that He meant to bless me with, simply because I've been trying to somehow position myself and prove that I had "earned" them. That I somehow deserved them.

Marriage is meant to be a picture of God's love on this earth: Selfless. Ever-enduring. Healing. And Pure.

And as much as I'm in awe of the gift I have in Chris as my husband, I'm even more in awe of the gift I have in Christ, the One who loved me first.

Myer's First Lesson in Flight.

"...some pwanes have propewors, MyMy..."


"...and they push the pwanes reeeeeeal high in the sky..."


"...but other pwanes don't have propewors, MyMy..."



"...other pwanes have JET engines that take you to really cool places..."



"...anywhere you want to go, actually..."


"...even to reno!"