To the Neighbour With the Dilapidated House

There is a certain route we always take on foot, because it leads us to several important places.....the swimming pool, the library, the mall, the grocery store, and Nanny's house for Sunday dinner. For years there has been a house we walk by, and it is utterly dilapidated. The paint has peeled off, the shutters are falling off, the fence has boards missing, and through the windows you can see shabby curtains hanging by a thread. To make it worse, there are 2 cars in the back driveway, without licence plates, and sitting on flat tires. 

I never felt disgusted or appalled by the people that owned that home, but I did wonder what was wrong that so much was going wrong, and it was more out of a sick curiosity than a sense of sympathy...certainly not empathy.

We have come through a hard winter. Our children have been sick lots, we are piecing together income, and things (actual physical things) in our life sort of seem to be falling apart! The faux leather chairs are peeling, there is a dent in the side of our van from someones runaway Costco cart, that silly patch of lawn that keeps dying no matter how much we love it is even more dead, the paint is peeling on the outside of our home, tea towels are stained and shabby looking. I truly could go on, it has felt like a perfect storm, and the reality is that we don't have the resources now to replace or fix things! We are not hard off by any stretch, but the extra that it takes to replace and repair isn't there for now. And nothing is necessarily wrong with us that things are going slightly sideways, it is just how it is for now, despite our efforts for otherwise and because of certain things we've prioritized.

And as my sweet skipping son and I were strolling past the dilapidated house a few days ago I felt such love for those people and their story. They have a story...a sacred story, maybe a tragic story, possibly a story with many triumphs also. Perhaps they are trying hard, perhaps they have given up and sit drinking their morning coffee looking out the shabby blinds and not even noticing them anymore. Then I think of us....I cringe over our peeling chairs if we have invited someone over, but during our family dinners when our little loves are sitting on them, we notice our little loves and not the silly peeling chairs. And we delight in them, and we smile. 

And so I know that everything happens for a reason and truly to every thing there is a season. Maybe some have seasons of suffering or hardship that last many years, our season has been short so far, but I see the Divine Refiner working His fire on my soul, softening it, reshaping it, even allowing it to be tired and weary. Because out of that tired and weary comes a heart more able to see others and their story, truly see with the eyes of the soul and a tender glance. 

Maybe we will have a chance to run in to these people on one our walks, and maybe we can offer them a friendly and even empathetic greeting of hello and how are you. May it be so!

Head Strokes and TLC

There is a specific way she used to stroke my head as I fell asleep. It is incredibly hard to describe but embedded in my memory, her signature head stroke. I was praying bedtime prayers tonight with Liliana and stroking her head in that exact way. It was so blissful for me when my Mama did it, and my fingers naturally stroke her hair like that. She sighed contentedly and her little eyelids fluttered closed.

Was she not so beautiful? She still is!

She did many little things. These are the things that stand out in my memory. "One Tin Soldier" as a bedtime song, nivea on my dry cheeks, love notes in my lunch box, picnics in the school yard. In her memory she made many mistakes. She is so humble and detailed that she will call me on the phone to this day and apologize for something she did in my childhood that she thinks could be making me sad!

Guess what? They don't stand out in my mind. Those little, beautiful acts of detailed love that inspire me in my daily mothering....those are what stand out to me. I knew, absolutely, unshakeably, irrevocably that I was loved beyond measure and without qualification.

Something is becoming abundantly clear to me, and it is that those tiny little details can be the ones that take the most effort. Because, as a Mama, after the normal daily tasks have been accomplished, it takes monumental effort sometimes to linger a little longer and sing one more song or stroke someones blond head for 3 more minutes. It takes monumental effort to put aside the to-do list and read one more story or play pretend. That middle of the night glass of water and tummy rubs....so little, just a few minutes, big effort. These little things make a huge impact, more than any short tempered or impatient moment could.

This gives me so much hope. My patience seems short these days and my nighttime wakings are often full of feelings of remorse over moments where I was harsh or lacking mercy in my discipline. Yet, when I think about how my own mother loved me and the memories that stand out as strong and clear as if they were yesterday....it is the delicate, detailed, little ways in which she loved me exactly how I needed to be loved.

My silly mini-Me and her funny fashion sense!

I pray one day my Liliana finds herself stroking someones head - be it a friend, daughter, husband, patient - and smiling over the way her fingers know exactly what to do just like her mama did. May I take enough moments to love her in small and detailed ways that she is inspired to find the energy to do the same....

May you be blessed!

Moments of Grace: The Mirror

There is an inevitable scenario each morning as I try to get myself ready. Sliiiiiiiide pitter patter pitter patter....I hear the sound of two sets of little feet pushing two stools over the hardwood floor to the bathroom where I rush through my morning "beauty" routine. Giggles and screeches, pointing and pushing, these four little arms, legs, eyes, ears and two little mouths, noses, and hearts imitate my every move. They brush their teeth, Liliana pretends to curl her eyelashes and Judah tries to stick bobby pins in his ears thinking they are q-tips. Judah draws eyeliner on his cheek and Liliana takes my brush blush, feeling so grown up as she swipes it across her cheeks. She uncaps my deodorant and swipes it across her tummy under her shirt, he takes it from her and rubs it on his cheeks. My hands fly from preventing several small disasters, to slapping on a bit of makeup, to hurriedly brushing my teeth, flipping my head over and throwing in a quick bun, and back to preventing more disaster.

One morning this past week I left the bathroom and realized I hadn't looked in the mirror! I had no idea if my hurried attempt at being "put together" had indeed achieved such an effect!

I used to look in the mirror too much, analyzing every angle, critiquing, pinching, obsessing and loathing.

I laughed as I realized that this is another gift of love....to love my Loves so deeply and so wholly and with such intensity that I forget to look in a mirror. There are far more important things to tend to than analyzing what can't be changed.

However, as I thought about it more I realized something even better....that these Loves of mine have become my mirror. The only mirror that matters.

My husband is my mirror as he gazes at me over the candles at dinner while our children make messes and he knows I am tired. He shows me that I am appreciated, that my work matters, it has been well done, and I am captivating to him even with smudges of dinner's preparations on my shirt and my bun turned lopsided over a day of chasing littles.

Oh wife, you silly woman! I will ALWAYS love you!

He thinks I am beautiful, and enough, and on top of it he is studly :)

My nursing babes are my mirror as they gaze at my with utter adoration while they suckle. When I look away their little hands creep up to cup my cheek and draw my gaze back to them. They show me that I am needed, and irreplaceable, and perfect for them.

He always wants to hold my hands as he sleeps!

My toddler is my mirror as she laughs over my crazy dancing in the kitchen or runs to me the second she needs anything. She is my mirror when tells me over and over again that I am sooooo pretty and stubbornly insists that her outfit be exactly like mine. She is my mirror when my harsh words or my sad mood make her sad and anxious. She tells me that I am beautiful, but imperfect, and yet, always worthy of forgiveness.

She felt so special that night, just like Mama!

The most perfect mirror. 

My friends are my mirror when they seek my advice, or invite me to spend time with them, or extend a helping hand. They tell me that I am silly, and worthy, and of value, and loveable even in the selfishness and woundedness.

These are the mirrors that Love provides me. These are the only mirrors that matter. Oh how grateful I am for pattering feet and sliding stools and mess making children. Today I will hug them tighter and accept their sweet kisses all over my face. Tonight I will not avert my eyes when my husband tells me I am everything he ever dreamed of. Here is to many more days of forgetting to peek in the mirror!

What mirrors do you have that show you your true beauty?

Happy Valentines day to you!

xoxo

Monday Musings: On Realizing My Own Littleness

When Liliana was born, two and a half years ago, motherhood and I effortlessly became one another. There was nothing that seemed too hard (except for one night of screaming after our trip home from Oz!) and I didn't understand how anyone could possibly not think this being a mama thing was the best and most joyfilled thing to ever happen to them.

When I became pregnant with Judah, I naively assumed that when he was born he would effortlessly merge into our little family, that I would wear him all the time (as I did Liliana), and that we would continue on our merry way.

And then this darling little bundle of baby boy entered our lives. 

Seriously, so squishy and adorable!!

The first few days postpartum were bliss....and then his tummy started hurting and his hands formed into fists and his legs became stiff, he started crying, and crying, and crying, and still cries. I cried and cried, Liliana cried because I was crying and because she was confused and needed her mama, and I morphed into this mother that I could have never imagined myself being. I yelled at Liliana. I resented Judah, my home fell apart, I could really care less about my personal appearance, I felt afraid to leave the house. The suffering felt so intense and so very real, I couldn't (and sometimes still can't) see how life will ever seem as easy as it was.

Moreover, my whole self missed my sweet Liliana with everything in me. I ached to hold her. When she woke at night sad and I was preoccupied with Judah I mourned. When she needed me during the day and I was holding her fussy brother I mourned. I realized that although my heart had grown enough to encompass the love for these two babies of mine, my arms had not grown and I had not gained any extra hands. I missed having Judah safe in my belly and Liliana safe in my arms.  I miss it still.

I miss Joe. He comes home from work and is immediately consumed with attending to Liliana who has fended for herself most of the day. I gratefully accept the gift of just one little one to care for and try to stuff the laundry in with one hand or awkwardly pull together some semblance of dinner! Yet we fall into bed at the end of each day and as I gratefully snuggle up to his warm presence I miss his friendship desperately.

And so we come to the point of this all, that I am learning a vital lesson in humility. To presume that I could do it all, on my own, was so ignorant. To be critical of those who may have adjusted with difficulty to motherhood was so prideful! I myself am little and one of the only things that makes a difficult day not so difficult is if I take a few minutes in the early hours of the morning to place every moment of joy and suffering at the feet of our Lord. I beg for His grace to love beyond my own natural capacity to love, and to fill these little hearts with exactly what they need to thrive.

Truly, to finish this blog on a happy note,we have had so much fun learning to just be at home and keep life simple. I invested in a 4.99 pack of face paints. Let me tell you, we have had a blast! Each day Liliana can be a different character and while I hold Judah we can make all sorts of make believe.

Sweet puppy dog! 

Never underestimate the joy to be had
in a sink bath!!

Princess Liliana Joy!!

There is so much joy in the simple being of each day. There is so much peace in knowing that I have done my best to love these little ones and that they are both growing and happy. I am truly being tried and tested in these early days with our beloved Son. Parenthood is the most amazing thing, and the deepest suffering I've ever known. It has nothing to do with the stench of a diaper, the sleeplessness, or the hard work. It has everything to do with the reality of not enough arms to match the love in one's heart, of seeing a child struggle and not knowing how to meet their needs, of wanting to balance affection towards one's children and one's spouse, of yearning for intellectual stimulation but knowing that your entire day must be oriented towards nourishing and loving the little minds you've been blessed with!

Pray for me and for Judah's tummy, Liliana's peace, and Joe's patience. We pray for all of you!!

xoxo