To My Tiny Baby

"For this Child I have prayed, and the Lord has granted the desires of my heart." 1 Sam 1:27

5 Weeks

My tiny baby. You are only 5 weeks old, so hidden in my belly, so little and new, so loved by us!

Your sister has become my handmaiden, literally on my heels every moment of the day asking if there is anything I need. Your big brother keeps asking me if you will come out in the morning and I have to tell him that it will still be many mornings until he can stand by you with his sword and be your protector. Today he lit a candle before St. Joseph for you with daddy. He loves you!

As if daddy could do anything more he has been doing the chores and making mommy stay in bed longer or go to bed earlier. He is determined that you and I will both be healthy and strong, physically and emotionally!

We have dreamt about you for so very long and now our dreams are intensified. We wonder who you are, what your name is, what you look like. I dream about feeling your first fluttery kicks and your somersaults. You are so new and yet we have not been able to contain our secret from our friends and family. From the moment that you were you have been your own unique person, an eternal soul of infinite worth and we could not help but share the news of YOU.

Already there are little sacrifices involved with holding you safe in my belly, little selfish habits that I held to tightly that I have to let go for love of you. Already, my tiny baby, you make me better, more selfless, more resolute. Thank you!

We are counting the weeks until we meet you. They will go so slow and so fast all at the same time. In the meantime we will keep dreaming about you and praying for you.

I love you!

6 Weeks

My tiny baby. How I love you! You are 6 weeks and 3 days old, and starting to make your presence known a little more. You are already showing your unique you-ness, as you make Mama sick in the morning and not the night like your brother and sister. Mama has been pretty ill for the last 2 weeks with a sinus infection, and with the added nausea I've been a little cranky. However, I remind myself to be GRATEFUL. These are all signs of you, our darling. It is all for you and for our family, and it is all such meaningful suffering.

I went for a walk yesterday and was reminded of how I love these moments before the world knows about you. Anyone looking at me would have seen one person out for a walk....but there were 2 of us! Two people, two guardian angels....I'm never alone. I love having you with me.

I am counting the days until I can be a little more certain that you are OK in there. Until then we pray hard, loving you more and more.

12 Weeks

My tiny baby, you are 2 inches long now! Oh how I love you. I haven't written here since we started telling friends and family about you, perhaps because since then I seem to talk about you all the time. Your brother and sister only want to talk about you, or read books about how you are growing, or talk about what you should be named or whose bed you should sleep in. We pray for you at every meal and we give thanks for you and pray for you at bed time. It is Judah and Liliana's number one prayer intention these days. It is so fun!

The time is flying and I am simultaneously grateful and frightened by that. There are so many things i want to do before you are born....organizational things that would make me more ready for you. However all of my best intentions for fitness and productivity disappeared by how tired growing you as made me. I am hopeful the energy comes back, or maybe I'll have to ask for help, which wouldn't be so bad either.

Either way, I dream about you daily. I already yearn to have you in my arms and know you are safe. The second trimester certainly brings a little more security, but pregnancy after having experienced miscarriage is different than before. I am fearful for your safety and oh, so aware that every moment with you is a gift. Thank you for being part of our family!

10 weeks

12 Weeks you are the size of a LIME!

12 Weeks 

I love you so much. Keep growing my sweet little one!

To My Darling on Your First Day of Kingdergarten

My beautiful Girl! Here we are, the first day of kindergarten. I rejoice and feel mournful at this new step in our family's life....for sending you off to school will affect all of us. The simple ins and outs of spontaneous days with you and Judah at home will change. We will enjoy the new structure and we will find it a hard adjustment. Most of all, I will MISS you, my darling. I know this is just one more moment of letting go. We aren't warned that to be a parent is to be constantly letting go. You were in my belly and I so loved having you there. When you were born, oh how I missed having you so close. Those moments of missing you have continued as you grow in independence, grace, knowledge, and beauty! 

So fresh and new....I blinked and here we are all these years later!

We had a bit of a funny day "practicing" kindergarten last week. You and Mommy went to school to see where you would hang your backpack, put your outdoor shoes, sit, play, and learn. We did a craft, and much to my dismay I realized that I've never really taught you to use scissors, even though we have used scissors I never made sure you had it "right". I tried not to compare as I looked around and saw the other children having an easier time than you! I came home and cried to your daddy that I had not prepared you for kindergarten. He looked at me and sternly told me to evaluate the ways in which I had prepared you for kindergarten....skills and ways-of-being that cannot be learned in a week the same way scissor use can be. 

I realized that my deepest dream for you is that we have prepared you to go to school and be a little person of light, compassion, joy, and empathy. I pray we have taught you to have courage and persevere, to embrace challenges, and to have humility when you need help. 

You have had such a happy little life so far. I think that most of the learning that happened in our house was through happy playtime.

Italy and Ireland with Nanny and Papa

We had the happiest days on Maui together

Make believe is an every day thing around here!

You've travelled to several countries, you have spent countless hours outdoors in the mud lost in imaginary play, riding your bike, jumping, running, throwing, sliding, swinging. You love bugs and animals, crafts, baking, play dough. Dressing up and make-believe is your happy place, and it is sometimes hard to bring you back to the real world! You are AMAZING at making messes. You love helping daddy with building fires, painting projects, nailing, and even sawing. Spending time on Nonna and Papa's ranch helping with the animals and chores is one of your absolute favourite things to do.

In Texas, one of your most beloved places!

Daddy prince, one of my favourite memories of you and daddy's play time!

Thanks to doing music from a young age your memory work is incredible and you can recite prayers, poems, and songs after only hearing them a few times. You love to be read to and are currently devouring "Little House in the Big Woods" with Mama. 

You have a kind and tender heart, my sweet girl. I pray we have taught you to see in each new person someone of beauty and value. You are easily frustrated and overwhelmed, (and you have a bit of a temper!)...I hope we have given you tools to acknowledge and work through those feelings when you are presented with challenges in school. 

My little darling, it is hard for me to let you go! The world is a scary place sometimes, and I just want to snatch you to my heart and hold you close. However, the world is more beautiful than it is scary and I dream for you to take this first big step out into that world with a heart that sees the beauty and rejoices in it, knowing that you are eternally loved, treasured, and worthy. 

The best news of all? You are only 5 years old.....may I continue to treasure these years of snuggles, learning, growing, and playing!

We love you so!

I Marry You Mama

My sweet Judah the Lion.

His name means "to praise" and I rejoice in his little life that is a song of praise. 

He is the most darling temperament - tender, empathetic, sympathetic, and simultaneously fierce in his living and loving.

As he grows he has of course emerged more into a masculine way of being and is daily my knight, my rescuer, my hero. He yearns to be a hero in every game. My little man. He looks at his daddy with heart eyes and copies everything he does. Thank goodness his daddy is such a noble heart.

Of course Judah has moments of losing his temper or lashing out, yet his remorse is so swift and so sincere that we struggle to be firm with him. Still we are because he needs to learn self- control. If he accidentally hurts one of us somewhere he absolutely smothers that part of us with kisses and strokes. "Sowwy, sowwy, so so sowwy Mama!"

He has the most maddening and endearing habit of my skin being his "lovey". While I've been able to "wean" him off of stroking my skin while he falls asleep, most nights he crawls into bed around 2 am and spends the rest of the night stroking my arm. Last night I woke up to my face being cupped in both of his little hands. He was fast asleep, and I was fast asleep, and my face was in his hands. Joe and I are OK with his little nighttime adventures into our bed, because we know very soon they will end (as did his sister's) and I will lie in bed missing him a little. These moments fly too quickly.

I never want to forget the moment, a few weeks ago, when he was brooding about something. Thomas Rhett's "Die a Happy Man" came on the radio and I whisked him up and danced with him around the kitchen. He quickly forgot the reason for his misery and sang along a little, until he finally looked up at me, gave me a huge kiss on the lips and said "I marry you Mama."

Oh yes, my son I am perfectly OK with being your one and only as long as you'll have me, as I know all too well how quickly these precious years pass.

I love being your Mama!

** photos by Blair Marie Photography

Family Vacations - Expectations vs Reality

We just arrived home from a glorious, difficult, exhilarating, exhausting, happy, dirty, budget friendly, expensive trip :) All of the above sound contradictory, which they absolutely are! I am learning, slowly but very surely, that life with little children is never as expected, straightforward, or carefree as one might hope, but always more joy and grace filled than we could have imagined in our wildest dreams.

In an incredibly valiant step towards establishing new family traditions and family culture my side of the family planned a camping reunion in Priest Lake, Idaho.  Valiant because we have not camped as a family for perhaps 20 years and because it was absolutely a step outside of comfort zones.

True to form we were relatively last minute in making our plans, for several reasons, and so ended up in a walk-up camp ground very close to Priest Lake. Our little family has always dreamed of camping but were deterred by the cost of acquiring gear, so this was a perfect impetus to start our collection and start living the dream.

13 people, 5 cars, 2 campgrounds, 4 tents, no facilities, a beautiful river, a stunning lake, a weekend of fun.

True to form, however, our two little ones returned from our glorious week on Nonna and Papa's ranch in Texas with stomach bugs. Despite the fact that we did our best to feed them only bottled water this time, their little tummies just don't seem to handle the foreign flora and so we headed into our relatively rustic camping situation with many many bouts of diarrhea daily still occurring. This really made the trip at times feel like a nightmare. This is real life, though! On social media one might only see little snapshots of the carefree moments, but in between were frantic middle of the night outhouse sprints, accidents, visits to the laundromat, the purchasing of new gear, 5:30 AM coffee on the campfire after being up all night with sick kids, and exhausted mommy and daddy at their absolute wits end.

There is something wonderful about parenthood, however, that even at your wits end the best still shines through because it is not about you. When there are other little lives relying on you somehow you find the strength. I'll never forget Joe in the middle of a chilly night in a tent, covered in poop (YES IN POOP) wiping off a hysterical child and telling them it was OK and it happens when your tummy is sick. I will never forget locking eyes over a brown bagged chelada in the laundromat as our kids licked their popsicles wondering how we were spending our long weekend in a small town laundromat with our fingers crossed that our gear would come clean. We laughed, we laughed so hard because it was either that or cry. I'll never forget falling asleep holding hands praying that this night would bring more rest than the next. I'll never forget the moments in between of carefree or ringing in our daughter's 5th birthday with campfire coffee and camp stove french toast, and playtime in the beautiful lake with doting aunts and uncles.

Despite all of the challenges we eagerly look forward to continuing the Christianson/Packard/Zohorksy/Di Lucca summer camping tradition as the years roll on. Maybe next year we will just make sure we find a place with closer bathroom facilities ;)

A few photos from our happy, dirty, hard, and carefree weekend....

My mom and dad with their 6 children and 3 grandchildren

Auntie Joc, Auntie Eve, and cousin Sophia Rose

Fun Uncles make every day better!

Sophia Rosie and Liliana Joy in matching bathing suits

Judah was obsessed with this water gun, I am obsessed with Uncle Luke's face in this photo

Birthday boy Grandad (61) and Birthday girl Liliana (5)

I loved summer mornings around the campfire and arms full of littles

6 children, oldest to youngest

My handsome men at Priest Lake

I hope your summers have been full of adventure, humour, and memory making!

The Scars of Love

6 Years! 6 years of marriage, how can it be? This morning I sat clicking through over 1000 wedding photos. I had picked less than 100 as my favourites 6 years ago, and today I sat scrolling through them again. After these 6 years, certain images had a new and beautiful weight to them and stood out to me in ways they hadn't years ago. It was beautiful, and nostalgic, and entirely interrupted by a preschooler and toddler whose needs were still immediate, no matter the day.

I wish I had something profound and existential to write about these 6 years with my beloved. And yet, my mind is tired and foggy, my body is weary, these days have been busy days. Despite it all my heart is light and my soul full of joy. This, my friends, is where the contrast strikes me.

This love, this true married love, one of I-THOU, me and my beloved, each reflecting back to the other worthiness, beauty, eternity.....this love leaves us tired, this love has left scars and yet our hearts are light and full of joy. I have a burn scar on my arm from a frying pan when I tripped over a toddler playing on the kitchen floor, always wanting to be close to mama. I have stretch marks and a still remaining linea negra from the 2 times I carried our darlings. My body is different....softer in some places, more angular in other, less shapely in still others. my hairline is different from postpartum loss and regrowth. These are only the scars you can see. There are the unseen scars as well... those of loving 3 beings, (4 if you count our sweet one in heaven), so much that your heart is forever scarred by the bittersweet passing of time. There are scars of loving my husband so deeply that I am ever aware of my own journey, and how much I have to grow in order to be less selfish. There are scars of working on a marriage or growing as mother, and falling and rising to try again because love is worth it. There are even the scars of the pain of post partum depression, unemployment, and sickness.

But oh, these scars. The majesty, the beauty, the eternity, the sacredness - even in the ugliness and the brokenness they are beautiful and I am humbled to be growing worthy of them.

I have scars, other scars, from broken relationships, poor decision makings, self-loathing, and selfishness. These scars are weighty and in moments they threaten to discourage me.  This is the beautiful thing about married love and how the scars differ. They have a sort of weight that, heavy and profound, mysteriously unshackles me from myself and makes me free. The incredible reality of making a gift of my life and discovering my own worthiness and beauty in the self-giving. In this love I also discover my worthiness and beauty because of the epic, heroic, unwavering love my husband has for me. He looks at me and I see reflected back to me a potential I never knew I existed (even when he is annoyed with me, maybe especially when he is, haha!). He sees me, truly sees me, and the more he knows my heart and soul the more deeply he loves me. How could one not be set free to dream in the security of such a love?

6 beautiful years! I am excited to see what this next year will bring.

Thank you for your love and prayers on our anniversary,

xo

Kitchen Dance Party

"Laughter, song, and dance create emotional and spiritual connection; they remind us of the one thing that truly matters when we are searching for comfort, celebration, inspiration, or healing: we are not alone." - Brene Brown The Gifts of Imperfection

Writing this down so I don't ever forget this precious moment....

Last night, Sunday, we were at Nanny and Papa's house for Sunday dinner. The ladies and most of the men were in the kitchen putting the final touches on dinner, when Judah pressed play on the music player and upbeat Jazz music started blasting out of the speakers.

He turned around in fear and surprise, his hand over his ears, and instantly his face melted into laughter and glee. For we had all started dancing. Nanny started dancing as she set dishes out, my mom and I started dancing as we made the salad, my dad and brothers grooved to the music, and Anna shook her hips like a pro, holding Liliana's hands. Papa, on his constant wanders, came back into the kitchen intrigued by the hubbub. Immediately he started moving to the rhythm. His mind is diseased and his body getting frail but the ability to sense the rhythm is still going strong. We all laughed, and dinner took a little longer to set out because we all kept dancing.

Life has been heavy lately. World news is heavy, politics is heavy, business is heavy, finances, family, health....heavy. I think, though, as long as we have the ability for kitchen dance parties the heaviness of life will not be victorious over joy.

(Just to make you smile )

May your day have at least one kitchen dance party in it!

With love,

Moments of Grace: My Daughter's Beauty

I literally watched with awe as our Liliana marched up the mountain. She was so determined, so positive, so inspired."We got this mommy, we are Packards, I'm going the hard way, I'm getting stronger, I am never ever ever EVER giving up!"

Her sweet brother pushed his little legs to the absolute max led by her tenacious example before promptly falling asleep on my back after he could not walk anymore.

 I could not help but stare at her sun kissed skin and wispy pony tail, her little arm muscles, her strong and sturdy legs and bum, and her beautiful back. She is so strong!  She is so beautiful!

The new friend we were with commented that Liliana's legs look like a pro-athlete and went on to suggest that it must run in the family because, look at me. My heart surged with pride. 

I am not ashamed to admit everything I just said. I am ashamed to admit that I've felt self conscious about aspects of our daughter's appearance at times. Just little things, like that she was born with a very crooked nose, that she has a huge (entirely endearing) gap in between her two front teeth, even that she is a little ball of muscle and already it is hard to find pants that fit comfortably over her strong legs. 

Much like her Mommy!

It is no secret that the struggle with self loathing, which seems to be part of the human experience, has over the years manifested itself in me through an intense dislike of my body. I spoke several posts back about my New Year's resolution of a return to vitality, health, strength, and fitness. Part of this year's journey has been about learning to be peaceful with the body I was blessed with, for myself and for the sake of my children, who see everything! 

And yet, it was in this moment and through the comment of a new friend that I realized the beauty I could not stop looking at in my darling was also a beauty that I had. A beauty of strength, tenacity, athleticism, and determination. 

I have spent so much of my life pining for the coat hanger beauty of runway models and yet as I watched our girl I was gripped with the fear that she would ever want to look differently than she did marching up the Grassi Lakes. In that moment I also realized, in a way I had not before, the absurdity of me ever wishing I looked differently than do. 

These moments of grace become something to hold onto when I come back down from the mountain top and the clear vision of things as they are fades into the busy mess of regular life. 

What a responsibility it is to raise little people into wholehearted big people who have a sense of their worthiness and their mission! 

And yet, what a gift our little people give us as they draw us out of our brokenness and selfishness and reflect back to us our own worthiness. 

Moments of grace, indeed!

With love and prayers,

I See You

I received a video message from my sister the other day, and among the many loving words in it were these special and profound three, "I see You."

Our little Lyla bug was watching with me and has since taken to using them when one of her other family members is cranky, sad, frustrated, or even happy! "Don't worry Daddy, I see you."

It took me back to an interview I did last summer when we were analyzing income options and considering sending me to work. I was asked how I would handle a student sent to me for bad behaviour. I said something along the lines of, "first I would let her know that I see her, that underneath the bad behaviour I see her beauty and recognize a cry to be acknowledged and loved."

It took until receiving the message from my sister, one which caused me to feel so affirmed and so held, that I started contemplating what those three beautiful words could do as I discipline and as I relate to my husband and even as I learn to know and love myself better. 

I see you. I see that you are worthy, I see that you are imperfect and utterly lovable despite imperfection. I see that you are trying. I see that you are suffering. I see that you are human. I see that you are beautiful.

How can I help? 

My darling man has always struggled with emotion from me. When I am sad or emotional he wants to fix it asap. He knows that sometimes we have to sit with a feeling, even a sad one, and that sometimes we just need to invite someone in to sit with us. Of course it is natural that he doesn't want to be invited in to sit with me, he wants to make me feel better!

The other day we were out eating chicken wings and enjoying a  nice cold one, and despite my best efforts, as I relayed a story to him my tears started rolling into the spicy chicken wings. Sorry Love!

He looked at me straight in the eye. He did not turn away or shift uncomfortably. He said, " I SEE YOU. That is so hard, and I'm sorry you are sad."  These are powerful words. To be vulnerable and to be seen. Do we not all need more of this? 

Love to you this morning,

Hold Them Closer

"Mooooooommy!....mommy?....mooooommmmy!"

I was jolted out of sleep the other night with the cries of our eldest in her bed down the hall. Through the fog of the deep sleep that, mere seconds before, I had been in I asked her what was wrong. She had a bad dream and was afraid to close her eyes again. "That's OK sweetie, mommy will hold you tight and close, and so will your angels. Everything is OK now."

I lay there holding her as her breath became deeper and more steady, creeping out only to find that my spot on the pillow had been commandeered by a curly two year old in search of some middle of the night cuddles.

As I lay in the dark holding him close, I reflected on this beautiful constant self-forgetfulness that is so much part of parenthood.

There are some who seem to preach that if you just train a child right they will fall asleep on their own and be beautifully independent from the time they are merely weeks old and you will "have your life back." At least for me, that has not been the way it works.

Even if a baby does learn to sleep through the night then they get a cold and need love, or a new tooth and need comfort, or become a toddler whose brain is exploding with development and need to fall asleep in your arms, or a preschooler who is exploring boundaries and needs to know you are the safest place. We never get our "old life" back. Thank goodness, because in its glorious exhausting messiness, this new life is much more beautiful and meaningful.

I have learned that when a child is the hardest to love is usually when they need to be held closer. That screaming baby needs to hear your heart beat, the tantruming toddler needs to be enveloped in a hug, and the defiant 5 year old needs to be pulled on your lap and kissed over and over. I can only imagine how close one's child needs to be held through adolescence.

This is hard for me, because in those moments when I find my darlings to be behaving quite despicably I want to turn my back for the moment and shut them out. This choice to hold them closer and shut the rest of the world out is what demands the constant denial of self and opting for love.

But oh how I do not regret one moment of holding them closer. I don't regret that they didn't sleep through the night until they were weaned, or that we bought a toddler sized carrier and even our 5 year old likes to be worn in it. I don't regret one single sleepless night of comforting or plans changed because of little needs. I see the beautiful fruits of our sacrifice growing, flourishing, and learning healthy independence right before my eyes. I pray that as they grow my children learn to opt for love, even when it doesn't feel good. In the meantime I will continue to hold them closer.

Whether your day is rainy like ours or filled with sunshine, may it be especially full of hugs.

With love,

When Joy Evaporated

The memories are fragmented and disjointed, but certain nights - like tonight - they wash over me and I feel filled with grief. I am remembering that time when the joy evaporated.

I remember the joy. The immense overwhelming joy and relief of meeting our son and holding him in that warm water. "Hi baby hi baby I'm your mama I love you I love you." Of being tucked into our bed and snuggling our baby. Of laying awake most of the night in post-birth bliss missing my princess and waiting for when she'd meet her brother in the morning.

I remember snapping. The day that daddy was already back at work and we were alone. Baby brother's tummy hurt and sister was only 2 years and 4 months but I was annoyed, so annoyed that she wanted, needed, to be held and snuggled. No, I was annoyed because I wanted to snuggle her too and this baby wouldn't stop crying. I was filled with rage, all of a sudden, at this sweet 2 year old crying who wouldn't stop. I was filled with rage towards her. I was shocked at the monster of rage I felt.

I remember telling the midwives. "I'm very very tired." They told me they are supposed to ask me about feelings of depression. "No, I'm just tired," I said. I knew better.

I remember crying to my mom. Something felt wrong. But I didn't cry to her or anyone else again. I don't ask for help. There were meals being dropped at the door step and I already felt guilty. Apologizing to the midwives for our messy house, guilty for not writing thank you notes to friends, guilty for how I was mothering, when I could barely drag myself through the day.

I remember arriving to Maui. Baby was 6 weeks old and still had a sore tummy. I was up with him almost all night giving him gripe water and delirious after a long flight and no sleep. Big sister woke up with her daddy and I had already finished a pot of coffee (no wonder baby boy was so agitated!). "Good morning princess, we are at the beach look, look at the beautiful ocean, look at the palm trees, mommy loves you so much are you excited?" I said to her frantically, wanting to be a happy mommy for her, the tears rolling down my cheeks as my desire and my emotions in that moment clashed. I just wanted to take her to the waves and put her little feet in, but baby brother was so sad and I was so tired.

I remember introducing Judah to Nonna and Papa on that trip. I felt like I couldn't bring myself to leave the condo to bring him to them. How can I face the world? how can I smile and pretend it is ok? But I did, I did.

I was so confused. I loved...I LOVED....being a mama. But, somehow the joy had evaporated. I would see my friends pregnant with their second babies and want to yell at them, "don't have your baby, it's a cruel joke, everything changes, nothing is happy anymore." I would timidly express that I was finding it hard and people would say, "oh just wait until the third baby." I loved my babies fiercely and yet most days were hard days.

I remember...the memories last well past Judah's first birthday. They become less tragic in my memory but still feel heavy.

These memories came washing over me as I stood in the shower tonight because just recently I wondered if our 4th (one miscarried in heaven!) baby was on the way. He or she is not, but oh we dream about the next little love that will be ours, and oh the fear that grips me.

Finally when Judah was 16 months old, it was as though the fog lifted. Literally a physical weight came off of me and it felt easier to lift my head and smile. Laughter came spontaneously, the joy of mothering my children and being in this life returned. This life, this blessed blessed life. All along I knew it was blessed, I knew I was a lucky one, but I was stumbling through darkness trying to find something to hold onto that would bring those convictions back.

It sounds crazy to say because even with the deep dark sadness I LOVED my babies. Perhaps that is what made the sadness so deep and profound is that I could not understand it. It is hard not to let it haunt me. It is hard not to be very, very afraid that it will happen again.

And so, these are the moments in life when I cannot imagine living without our Faith. Without that act of surrender, of trust, of hope. It involves taking control of what we (my husband and I) can, and believing that grace will be sufficient to overcome any suffering we encounter.

"I have made you. I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you." Isaiah 46:4

I look at my beautiful blond boy, his darling older sister. They have no recollection of mommy's struggles. They know only that they are loved without question and without measure. Would I do it again, to have these beautiful babies in my arms every? Absolutely. Does this take away from the reality of the pain? No.

I share this because it is my story, and because maybe it will help someone who has similar struggles. Ask for help! You are not weak, you are not helpless, you are not alone, and there is much hope to be had. The joy will not evaporate for good, very soon it will rain down on you in more abundance than you remember ever having before.

May you be blessed with peace,

Nothing's New

I tiptoe out of our children's bedroom, wincing as the ever squeaking doors break the silence,  I am half asleep thanks to the lulling effect of prayer time and snuggle time. I trip over a dump-truck in the hall way and sigh as I collect odds and sods from Liliana's creative play draped here there and everywhere. Depending on the night I settle next to Joe to watch the news or maybe The Voice and fold copious amounts of laundry, leaving it for the next day to put away. Chances are it will wait 2 or 3 days.

...

I stare out of our window as I watch our children shriek and play, my hands immersed in the soapy dishwater, a perfect vantage point. I wince as one of them falls or one of them screams at the other, pausing a moment to see if I have to make my way to them or if they can dust themselves off. My heart thrills to watch them, their sweet little bodies and blonde heads. My mind wanders to more babies and maybe a trampoline for the backyard if we can find an affordable one.

...

I find something new that is desperately in need of a clean. The inside of the microwave, the baseboards, the fridge, the bathroom. It never ends. I think how nice it would be if the day came that for just one hour everything was perfectly clean and I did not feel constant pressure for one more thing and one more thing. I know undoubtedly that if I prioritize an at-home workout the dust bunnies will taunt me from underneath the furniture.
...

Joe and I are busy and tired, we kiss each other softly as we wake to the quiet of the morning and sit beside each other as we say our prayers or do some reading. Each of our days has a rhythm and rhyme that is it's own and yet intertwined with the other, and every so often the day is capped off with a date. We love each other deeply and flirt through the day, and every so often we feel a little annoyed with each other. Yet we never ever go to bed angry, and I always find deep peace as we fall asleep, reaching over and putting my hand in his.

It was fun being the coaches wife! Busy, but truly fun!

...

I chip way at bad habits. Sometimes I stare at the ceiling in the middle of the night trying to make peace with the moments I lost my temper and berated a child, or gave Joe the cold shoulder, or should have denied myself that extra glass of wine and did not, or was lazy.

Truly, how could I ever be angry at these two goofs, right? I have no idea what game they were playing here!

...

We make lists, we dream, we scheme for simple family vacations. We peel back our layers and expose our wounds and faults, we work together for growth. Our children grow and thrive, 3/4 of the time we marvel at just how amazing they are and 1/4 of the time we wonder if our little blessings will send us to the loony bin and I feverishly seek out a parenting book for advice. 100 percent of the time, though, we cannot imagine our life without them. We pay bills, chip away at debt, do house repairs, pray cars last but a little longer, go to church, teach, clean, feed, kiss,  stress, learn, pray REPEAT.

Tender daily moments, sometimes a little one
just needs to be snuggled to sleep!

Daddy helping Liliana soar!

Important life lessons being learned every day :)

Nothing's new, the weeks and days blend into each other, each scenario I just described is a scenario on repeat in our house.

In the past I've felt odd when someone asks me , "how are things with you?" or "what's new?" and I have absolutely nothing to report other than, "things are really good, busy but happy, nothing new to report!"

Until it occurred to me that nothing new is a blessed reality. It seems we are conditioned to think that life is more meaningful when it is dramatic, so much so that we go out of our way to create drama for ourselves. At least for me, social media is a contributor to this because I see bits and pieces of everybody's charmed life without seeing any of the messy bits. I am guilty of this myself.

And yet, all around me there are families met by tragedy....sick children, sick mamas, daddy's with out work, deceased spouses, natural disaster, mental illness, marital problems....the list goes on and on. For these people there is lots of drama, and I'm sure they would give almost anything to have it turn back to the boring old of nothing new.

Mysteriously and beautifully, when I resign myself to the fact that nothing new is a blessed reality, my eyes opened to see the little miracles that make each day new and each moment fresh. Sure, we play in our back yard every day but my children's minds are growing and expanding so rapidly that they are always discovering something magical.  The mess is steady but seasons have changed and now instead of muddy bootprints we have dirty hand prints on the wall from digging in the garden in search of lady bugs.

Seeking little gratitudes and little miracles opens my eyes to the two little robins flirting in the yard, the books my husband is finishing that are contributing so greatly to his maturation and manly strength, a new workout conquered each day that helps me feel stronger and more confident, a new vocabulary word for one of our children. Each day, in all of its mundane, is filled with new miracles, little miracles, miracles entirely lacking drama yet contributing beautifully to our family's story.

And so nothing is new, and yet everything is.

May your day be full of little miracles,

xoxo