soaking in glory

I have no pictures to share. Sunday held for me one of the most glorious moments of my life.

The (big) girls and I sat in wonder while listening to Pablo Casalas playing Bach. For sixteen minutes we held each other in stillness, listening to overwhelming beauty. My 3 and 1 year olds were silently awestruck, as was I.

The music played only a part in this concert of glory.

We reclined back on a big bed, soft and welcoming. We wrapped our bodies in blankets and then wrapped each other in eager arms. The soft, mid-morning sun poured butter yellow through the curtains, its warm perfume bringing peace and ease to our moment.

It wasn't forced. It wasn't planned.

After a hectic morning with an all-too-tired Momma and 3 all-too-lively girls, I nursed baby Z and put her to bed. Feeling as though my older daughters needed some special cuddles, I turned off all distractions and read them a few stories.

Israel asked, "Momma, can we listen to beautiful music?"

That's what she calls anything with a cello.

And so, this glorious moment was born. It came without pressure. It came without grand expectations or high ideals.

It was a genuine outpouring of 3 female hearts in love with each other, with the music, with all the blessings God had created to simply bring 3 of His daughters incredible joy for 16 unplanned minutes on an inconsequential Sunday morning.

I remember gazing at beautiful new colors the sun was creating in Helen's hair when I thought, "Oh, where is my camera?"

I forced myself to stay.

To be still.

To be present in this moment of glory.

I felt my heart hope the Lord would burn every detail of those 16 minutes into my very fallible brain. The way Israel's hand felt in mine. The way Helen's fingers tickled as she absent-mindedly stroked my arm. The burning warmth on my face as my daughters took turns holding my cheeks in their hands and then giggling wildly for some unknown reason to me, but surely one of those dear little secrets locked up in the hearts of sisters to only be shared with each other.

The smell from their hair was all sunshine and lillies and butter and velvet.

Sixteen minutes of exultation for my soul in Jesus through the closeness of my daughters and the beauty of music.

Enjoy.

Bringing home baby.

I don't blog in the sequential order of my life. I flip through my visual reminders of all my blessings, aka pictures, and write as my heart is moved to do so.

My heart is full of flustered, anxious, at times, bitter emotions. I can't understand where it is coming from (unless it's the usual hormonal roller coaster that accompanies early pregnancy - God, please let it not be so!).

My precious husband, although grating to my menacing inner witch plaguing our lives at this moment, is amazing in his insights and patience. He encourages me through my tantrums to go be alone, pray for someone and take my eyes off "self."

I'm fixing my eyes right now on the three most beautiful creatures God has ever formed.

Remembering the day we brought Z home from the hospital fills my heart with such joy, it becomes a physical force. I can feel it bringing life to my bones, like a spiritual medicine for the of sin ravaging my soul.

We wanted to make the introduction of baby #3 as pleasurable as possible to Is and Helen.

What in all of creation is more pleasurable than a Krispy Kreme donut when the "Fresh Hot" sign is blazing its siren call?

Nothing.

We grabbed a couple fresh-hots for Poppa and Momma and 2 of the most vividly colored sprinkled donuts for the big girls, headed for a quiet, shaded corner in a nearby parking lot (because I was NOT going to wait for the long drive to a park, thereby allowing my "fresh-hot" to cool down to just "kinda fresh-room temp"!) and devoured the goodness.

The smiles. Magical. The sunshine. Glorious.

Zarah slept through her birthday party.

What? It's almost September

?!!!? !!! ??

I can't believe it. Wow. I mean, Wow.

This summer has been a whirl wind to be sure.

3 kids under 3 is hard. Time is short. Patience is shorter.

Blessings are overflowing.

Go see what trouble I managed to scrounge up for Israel's birthday.

More to come. Soon...meaning December, probably.

Shoveling manure seems so romantic after having survived this week.

View of the garden and chicken house through the kitchen window.

After 6 days of fevers, heart-stopping coughing fits, lethargic babies and temperamental temperaments to equal all the chaos, I'm starting to see a light at the end of sickness tunnel.

I hate hate hate watching sickness ravage my children's tiny bodies. Being powerless in the face of sickness weighs on my soul heavily. All is dark when they are coughing so hard they can't catch their breath. I try so hard to keep a gentle smile on my face when they look up at me with pleading eyes, begging for relief and I have none to give. I pray. And pray. And pray.

That's all I can do.

God, this sucks to be powerless as I watch my precious daughters suffer.

I trust You are here, even when I don't "feel" it. But it still sucks.

This brings me to the picture above. Turning the proverbial corner in this slowly dying plague, my heart starts to yearn for happier things to come. Namely, working in the garden.

I stinking miss it. I miss the dirt and the fresh air, the sweat and the toil, the digging and the weeding and the constant battle against the curse on the land. I'm quite sure I "miss" the curse because I've been cooped up inside for far too long and I'm afforded too much time to romanticize all the toil of gardening.

There is something so deeply satisfying to my soul to see dirt under my nails. To eat the food that I grew (by God's grace) is immensely, well, cool. I have been citified for far too long. Depending on a grocery store for my food instead of my own 2 hands feels like a jail sentence now.

I even miss the smelly chickens. (When are those useless creatures going to start producing eggs? That reminds me, we have a rooster to dispatch of.)

Still chewing on yesterday.

Cuddling with Z in a house full of silence, but for the occasional crash of thunder.

I've been chewing on yesterday like a piece of over cooked steak.

Seriously, Jesus. What does it mean to fall in love with You? To be swallowed up, consumed, real, true, full of the love of God?

What does it mean to really say, "Gain!" when I look death in the face with the promise of Christ?

How could I ever love anyone like Paul talked about? To wish to be cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers and sisters who are lost? I can't fathom that kind of love.

I'm terrified. I'm full of ecstacy. At the thought of being wholly consumed by You.

Nope. I'm terrified.

Nope. I'm dying for it.

I don't want to be religious. I want to be Yours. I don't want a list of do's and don't's. I need a relationship. I need to know God. I need to be known by God. I need the love of Christ.

Narnia moment

Sitting in the quiet of my room, reflecting on the last 4 hours of the day. How did I survive those?

How did the girls survive those?

What utter hell. I'm sure part of the problem is the current plague Is and Helen are suffering from. Sick children tend to equal rotten attitudes. That equation works for adults, as well now that I think of it. Our day went as well as can be expected with fevers and congestion and coughs and runny noses. I made smoothies for breakfast (always a winner). We cuddled in my bed, watched movies, the girls took a long nap, watched more movies and then it was time to cook dinner.

I sent the girls the play area and told them to play and read while I fixed dinner.

WW3.

Spankings and tears and rebellion and prayers and tempers and more spankings. As if I had commanded them to clean the toilet with their tongues! Since when did I get the "Horrid Mother of the Year" award for telling the girls to go play?

Then my beloved husband comes home! Oh, what joy and relief flooded my soul! My best friend, partner and comrade in the trenches has come home to help me fight the good fight for their little hearts and keep me from loosing my freaking mind.

Oh. Wait. You have a mission meeting at 7 you forgot about? Ok. No problem. Allow me a moment to chose my poison. A shot of tequila or the pretty blue cyanide pill I have stashed away for a day such as this.

We quickly scarf down the meal I had prepared (and burned while trying to nurse Z and maintain order at the same time - not possible, I've concluded), bathe the girls, put them to bed and he jumps in the shower to then turn around and run out the door.

My heart is so broken at the way this day has ended.

Looking for a ministering effect on my battered soul, I go to a favorite website and click on "Popular items." Here's what I ended up on:

Think Hard, Stay Humble: The Life of the Mind and the Peril of Pride

Sure, I'll watch this. I've already established I'm a self-absorbed, prideful-as-a-peacock Pharisee. I'm already feeling bruised from the beating I got out of the day. Why not seek out a little more punishment?

The message is delivered by Francis Chan. Never heard from him.

This guy is so real. He is so in love. With Jesus. You can hear it, see it, almost taste it from the moment he starts speaking.

I, on the other hand, am so in love. With myself. My life. My goals. My desires. The way people perceive me. Am I a good homeschool, hippie, bake from scratch, organic gardening, natural childbirth, breastfeeding, baby wrap wearing, pro-spanking, pro-gun, pro-life, physically fit, modest to a fault, conservative homemaker? As long as someone is watching.

As previously discussed, I don't pray often. But I bet my theology and doctrine is more sound than yours! And did I mention I read philosophy and bake my own bread and make my own cheese and yogurt and volunteer for charity and my husband is a missionary. I don't even have a tv.

I'm so holy I can hardly stand it.

Oh, God! Save me! Save me from my religion.

I like the things I do for my family. I like the work my hands have been tasked with...today a little less than others, but life goes on. What I don't like is my piety. In fact, I hate it. I despise my sin of self-righteousness. I abhor my unwillingness to get down on my knees every morning (if only for 5 minutes) to confess to my Holy God I'm a desperate sinner in need of His provision and strength.

Some of this is fear driven. What if He doesn't show up? What if I'm left there, talking to myself?

I live with enough fear to choke a horse. Fear of God's rejection, fear of failure, fear of falling short, fear that I'm not enough for God. Suffocating.

My A+ theology and doctrine tells me in a far off, clinical voice, "You're not enough and that's the point. God's grace is sufficient." I don't need my knowledge right now. I need God's love. I need to feel it, to share it, to experience it, to give it and live by it's power (not my own).

Here's where the Narnia moment happened. Watching and listening to Francis, I start thinking, "Father, I want what He's talking about. I'm dying for it." All the while knowing in the recesses of my mind, "I can never really get "there" where Francis is. That requires a life swallowed up in Christ. A life lived for Him not me. I can't do that. I can't even get up and talk to Him for 5 minutes in the morning."

And then the mental image of Aslan talking to Jill Pole flashed in my mind. Their dialogue was audible in my ears.

"Are you not thirsty? said the Lion. "I'm dying of thirst," said Jill. "Then drink," said the Lion. "May I - could I - would you mind going away while I do?" said Jill.

The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience. The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.

"Will you promise not to - do anything to me, if I come?" said Jill. "I make no promise," said the Lion. Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer. "Do you eat girls?" she said.

"I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms," said the Lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it. "I daren't come and drink," said Jill. "Then you will die of thirst," said the Lion. "Oh dear!" said Jill, coming another step nearer. "I suppose I must go and look for another stream then." "There is no other stream," said the Lion...(They talk about how she came to be in that world.) "You would not have called to me unless I had been calling to you," said the Lion.

I feel like Jill. Unwilling to bend down and drink deeply for fear of what the Lion will do. What is God going to do to my life if I drink deeply and live fully for Him? As if it is even my life. As if I own anything. As if it is not God's to give and take as He wills.

What is going to happen if I fall head over heals for Jesus?

6 am and a cup of tea

This morning, Jake went back to the grindstone. Coal plants. Yuck.

Since I was up making his food before he left for work, I decided to make a cup of tea and have some quiet time with Zarah before the dynamic duo awoke at 7. This quiet time with Z ended up as quiet time with J...Jesus, that is.

I am so very guilty of not praying nearly enough (but can one ever pray "enough"?). Most of my prayer is in the form of an arrow and shot up only in times of desperation. So dumb, I know. And yet, I resist the change. For some reason I think I have to be on my best pharisaical behavior before I can talk to my Father. Again, so dumb. I have a knack for completely missing the gifts of grace. It's my bent as a Pharisee to twist amazing grace into the filthy rags of self-righteous good works.

Aaaanyway, I'm going to blame the Holy Spirit for this, but something was pushing me to sit in the dark and the quiet and just talk to God. I didn't even feed Z on time this morning (shock and horror for breaking the sacred schedule!). I just sat. Talking. To God, no less.

To my amazement, I think Jesus met me there in the stillness. Different people and needs kept coming to mind and I just talked to the Lord about anything and everything for about 10 minutes. Big whoop, right? !!10 minutes!!

That's pretty long for me. And I actually want to do it again tomorrow. I enjoyed asking God to meet these different needs that I am powerless to provide. I enjoyed seeking His grace on my life, my daughters' lives, my dear husband and other people around us.

After praying, I nursed my sweet Zarah and opened the email while sipping on some good ole black Irish. It just so happened, ahem, that I received an email update from Desiring God (the ministry of John Piper).

"I'm already on a role this morning! I'll listen to a sermon on top of praying and then I'll be really good for God. Dammit. I hate my self-righteousness. Wait, did I just curse, too? Crap. Please forgive me, Father. Ok...moving forward. (sigh)"

This was the sermon:

For Judgement I Came into This World on Desiring God

Another gift of grace, dropped in my lap - or email box. Whichever you prefer. Just last weekend I asked Dad in passing, "So, why does Jesus talk in riddles? I don't get all the passages that talk about His desire that none would perish and how they stand up to passages that talk about him leaving people without understanding. Like, when the Bible says, 'He said this so they would not understand.' Can you help me out?"

Dad, "I sure wish I could. I don't really know either."

Frustrating, because Dad knows a lot about his Bible. But God heard my question and sent me an answer in a (humanly) timely fashion. How stinking rare! God rarely, if ever gives me what I'm wanting, but He always manages to give me what I'm needing. So cool.

8. my wrap. weird, huh?

As strange as this may sound, my wrap is a huge blessing in my life. Especially with 3 babes now in the picture, I am so thankful for this wrap. When it was just Israel, the wrap was mostly for pure enjoyment. I enjoyed the closeness with my Is and the feeling like we were doing all the mundane house work "together."

With my Helen, it became a necessary part of life. Although Helen didn't enjoy being in the wrap the way Is did, it was nice to have the ability to hold Helen and still have my hands free to play with Israel at the same time.

Now with Zarah, the wrap is completely indispensable! Without this thing I doubt if I'd ever have a moment to just hold my sweet baby. Having my hands free to care for Helen and Israel is a must and with this thing I always have my Zarah close to my heart. I don't feel like I'm missing any bonding time with my third born, which I had feared I would before birth. Now we four girls go everywhere and do everything together.

My wrap, although just yards and yards of t-shirt material, is a vital blessing in my everyday life. Thank You, Lord, for these simple blessings that carry us through our day. Thank You for making a way to be close to my all my babies at once.

i killed it.

Not in the slang way. This is nothing good.

After all my blood, sweat and toil I killed my mother. The sour dough one.

Left her in the fridge too long. Drat!

7. cameras. well, pictures. no, cameras.

Without these things I wouldn't have my pictures. So, I guess it's the pictures I'm thankful for. No, wait. It's the camera I...wait. Oh dear. This is like the chicken and egg question.

Whether it's the camera or the pictures, what I'm truly grateful for are my subjects. The ability to capture and save precious, candid moments of our fleeting lives is worth more to me than gold. My pictures are my gold. I flip through and savor God's blessings often. Without these reminders of His love I would be a sad creature, seeing as how I forget His mercies so quickly. I rarely recall His blessings to mind as easily as when I have a picture to aide me.

Helen discovers my sunglasses.

And spaghetti.

Poppa comforts a tired Israel on his homemade bear skin rug.

Zarah sighing the precious sighs of a newborn while we were at the park.

Fourth of July with my best friend.

Helen trying to chase her sister, long before she can walk.

Precious kisses.

A stolen moment of peace after Zarah's labor. A prayer of thanks on my lips.

This lovely moment when Is discovered my lipstick.

Or this incredible moment. I dropped the camera down to my thigh as we were on a walk. I didn't want Israel to see me taking a picture because she stops acting naturally. Seeing Is hand-in-hand with her Poppa, following his leadership and protection...nope. No words can say it. Joyful, maybe.

She was dancing all over creation because I showed her in the mirror how her dress and her hair bow matched. She kept shouting, "I'm so beautiful!"

Poppa admiring Ruby Falls cave. Helen admiring being admired.

Israel reading to Helen.

I could go on and on.

And as I said before, I have the greatest subjects in all creation.

6. my Dancing Queen

I'm totally watching the child bust some serious moves with the iPhone blaring music right now.

I mean hip shaking, arms waving, twirls, jumps, eyes closed and shouting out words that don't even go with the music. Israel believes she is singing along and that's what matters.

Oh yeah, and she is asking for pink hair. Not even 3, yet. Yeesh.

Couldn't find one of the hundreds of pictures I have of Israel dancing, so I picked out this one. I think it captures her mood right now quite nicely.

5. silly children and the smiles they bring

Nothing brings lightness to my heart and a smile to my face like watching my girls do something silly or ridiculous.

Here they are begging for food like puppies.

Who knew cheese was so exciting?

Thanks Lord for the silliness of children. The laughter they bless my toil-filled days with is priceless. They help me to not take everything so seriously. What a blessing!

retro: Easter 2011

This Easter Sunday was nothing short of grand.

The worship at church was reverent and full of rejoicing at the finished work of my Lord and Savior.

The Easter feast was simple and delicious.

The flowers in Mom's garden were stunning; their aromas were intoxicating.

My precious daughters enjoyed their first egg hunts...with all 19 of the Becker kids.

My girls wore darling, handmade Easter dresses - crafted by their brilliant Grandma.

This Easter was everything Easter should be. Worshipful, relaxing, peaceful, fun, full of fellowship and laughter.

Israel on the swings Grandpa built.

Kevin and I in a battle of photography. He will win.

Helen and her biscuit.

Helen pondering the greater questions of life.

Helen and Poppa. The dynamic duo.

Somehow Zarah and I ended up safely on the other side of the camera with no pictures to attest our presence on this day. I'm sure Kevin has a few photos of us I could snag.

retroactive blogging

Stories from the past few years are forthcoming. As I scroll through my photos, I realize there are so many things I want to write for my daughters to be able to read and enjoy long after I'm outta here.

And since I'm such a terribly faithful writer, ahem, I will be retro-blogging as the pictures and the muse guides me...and so far as my limited time allows.

Stories like the following!

The tale of Helen at the Dog Show and her fallen banana.

See Helen.

See Helen drop her dear banana, then dash to the aide of her Fearless Father. Being fearless, as his name so conveniently informs us, Father performs an emergency dirt-ectomy on said dear banana.

After successful operation, Helen is reunited with dear banana.

And then she reunites with the dirt.

Needless to say, I watched Helen and not the dog show.

a new baby...and so soon!

These are my new babies.

My very first starters! Whole wheat and rye. I was going for edgy Hollywood names.

I hope I can put forth the loving, attentive care they need so they won't grow to be spoiled. Seriously. I'm paranoid of these things going bad.

They even came to church with us today (pictures forthcoming) since we weren't going home until evening. I'm a very hands-on parent.

4. My soul sister

So, I'm still counting my blessings...I'm just lousy at writing them out. But, I soldier on.

My soul sister is a blessing I could have never thought to ask for.

Erin is an all-around beautiful soul and in the words of Anne, a "kindred spirit!" From our garden exploits, to our "pray for me" Momma melt downs, to our baking catastrophes and triumphs, she is real and good and true and beautiful and lovely and compassionate and patient and steadfast and fun and insightful - mainly, incredible to say the least.

A fellow comrade in arms down in the trenches of life and love, she blesses me with her patient ear, her kind and true words, her available shoulder. She has broadened horizons to me I never knew existed. She challenges me to be real with God, real with my husband, real with my kids. She demonstrates selflessness like I have never known.

I'm crazy about her.

I praise you, dear Lord, for this lovely creature. I witness Your mercy, love and am blessed by Your grace through Erin's friendship. She is my soul sister, of which I am so deeply grateful.

It's not my job, it's not my job, it's not my job...

I read pro-choice blogs.

Here are some I frequent (expect colorful language):

The Abortioneers

My Voice, My Choice, My Blog

Abortion Clinic Days

Abortion Gang

Just as I abhor being called "pro-life" only to be shoved into someone's narrow-minded, stereotyped caricature of who I am and what I believe, I read these blogs in an attempt to see "pro-choicers" as more than their political label. Pro-choice people are every bit as human as I am. They are made in the image of our holy God, who loves them every bit as much as He loves me. If not for the grace of God (and the blood of Jesus) I would be equally lost and blind to my sin. Actually, I'm still quite blind to my sin and can only see what the Holy Spirit has opened my eyes to!

In saying all that, today, my meanderings through different abortion blogs made me feel 2 inches tall. The hardness of heart was crushingly obvious as I watched different videos or read the commentaries. I was chilled to the bone as I realized, "Even a 3 hour discussion, using all my JFA skills, would not move that person an inch in their vehement belief in 'choice.'" This is not to say that everyone I ever witnessed to on campus with JFA is instantly converted, but I've rarely met people whose defiant defense of abortion is so full of vitriol, so hardened and closed off to dialogue that there is literally nothing I could ever say to get a fair hearing from them.

I'm posting the links to the videos I watched for those inclined to watch them. There is strong language in both and crass "humor" used in the first video link. I caution those who would choose to watch these videos...not rated PG, folks.

George Carlin on abortion

Sonya Renee on abortion

I found George Carlin's video harder to watch in many ways. Mr. Carlin's brand of humor revolts me. He was in desperate need of a thesaurus, seeing as how he repeatedly relied on the same 4 letter words to convey his message. But what I found truly heartbreaking is Mr. Carlin is deceased. He took his vitriol against God and his stubborn heart to the grave. Seeing people for whom all hope is lost makes me want to weep.

Sonya Renee's video was so difficult to watch. As I watched this beautiful and theatrically talented woman read her poem, my heart broke to hear the lies she had bought be regurgitated in full fury and emotion. She mischaracterized "pro-lifers" as little more than stereo-types. She shifted blame and criticized political parties, all the while ignoring the humanity of the unborn and truth that women do indeed deserve better!

Women deserve better than "free condoms" and "better sex ed." Women deserve real men who will commit to them and the children they help create. Women don't need Uncle Sam to step into the family and become the substitute daddy, thereby giving guys an easy out. Women need the loving security of real fathers so they don't go from man-to-man-to-man searching for what they should have been given as a little girl. Women deserve Truth, even if it's hard Truth, rather than deception and fluffed up words like "choice" and "rights," only bury the real issue of abortion in a thick mire of rhetoric.

Anyway, I digress from the title of this blog and my ensuing point. As I watched these, as I said, I felt 2 inches tall. Why? I felt completely powerless in the face of such hard-hearted people. My JFA training has taught me to engage anyone and everyone in thoughtful, compassionate, open dialogue about abortion. Listen and ask questions, listen and ask questions...pretty simple, really.

I asked God many times while watching these, "What could I possibly do to change their mind? There's no way I could talk to them. How could I talk to them about the humanity of the unborn when they are so full of fury?"

And then I heard a small voice in the back of my mind repeat over and over, "It's not your job. It's not your job..." That's about when my anxiety started to subside and my blood pressure returned to normal. It's not my job to change anyone's mind, to convict anyone of sin or to restore anyone to right relationship with God. It's the Holy Spirit's job. I'm not God and I don't have to be. I'm called to be faithful, witness to those God puts in my life and live a life that points continually back to Christ through the power of the afore mentioned Holy Spirit.

It's not my job to be God...ahh! Now I can go to bed and breathe a little easier.

3. My daughters

Later, I will write about each one of my precious daughters in detail. For now, I want t0 meditate on God's bountiful blessing in the form of 3 lovely little girls.

I believe we are God's children and He is a perfectly patient, unconditionally

loving Father. This means my daughters are really His daughters and this thought gives me pause. Why would God trust me/bless me with 3 of His beloved daughters?

Father, You have been teaching me so very much about Your love, Your patience, Your forgiveness through these beautiful darlings. I've never understood how You could love such a disgusting sinner like me, but You are showing me small glimpses of what Your love must be like through my love for Israel, Helen and Zarah.

When they are happy, giggling, smiling little girls, my heart is filled to overflowing with joy. When they are sick and covered in throw-up or diarrhea, crying from confusion and pain, my heart is filled with compassion, pity, grief and totally focused concern on returning them to health. Even covered in the filth of sickness, I clutch them to my chest, kiss their cheeks, stroke their heads and sing songs in their ears to soothe their discomfort.

When they are pleasant and obedient, I am filled with peace. When they are wretched, defiant, self-centered sinners, I grieve over their sin but am astounded to find that my deep love for them hasn't budged an inch. Their sin hurts my heart, to be sure, but I love them none the less. How much more You must love me, God!

Thank You, Father, for this small glimpse at what Your love for me must be like. No matter how intense and deeply rooted my love for the girls is, Your love for them and for me is infinitely deeper, infinitely stronger. Nothing can separate me from Your love, just like Your Word promises. I am so grateful.

I'm also grateful for this wild ride of motherhood. It's not where I would have put myself. I have been filled with despair and discontentment when I have raged against Your plans for my life. My pathetic attempts to control this life You have given me, and thus my deeper attempts to control You, have left me frustrated and angry. But when I have repented of my selfishness and turned control over to You, You have faithfully blessed my repentence and filled my heart with joy, purpose, peace and fulfillment.

Mothering 3 lovely (and at times, emotionally volatile) girls under 3 years old makes Everest seem little more than a mole hill. I wouldn't trade it for anything! Oh the depth of the riches I have in this blessing. I have only begun to understand.

My streak was broken in only 2 days...sad.

So pooped.

I'm still making every effort to meditate on blessings rather than worries, but the last 3 days have taken the wind out of me. Friday was a bear of a day with the girls. I think they're just stir crazy from being stuck in the house with only me (poor dears!). Lots of break downs, temper tantrums and dramatic hissy fits over a whole lot of nothing.

Saturday, I went out shopping for dress patterns with my dear mother-in-law and that escapade alone almost did me in. With such a low H & H, I was winded and exhausted by the walk from the car to the store front! In the end, we picked out a lovely dress pattern for the girls and Mom offered to make all 3 babies matching Easter dresses. I'm so blessed to have a thoughtful (and oh-so-talented) mother-in-law.

Saturday was an enjoyable day because of the time spent with family, but I don't know if I was physically up to such a grueling day. I've been paying for my depleted energy stores ever since. Lord, I'm seriously grateful for the opportunity to sleep "late" tomorrow morning! I need the rest - but You already knew that.

I ventured out to church today for the first time in weeks (without Jacob, no less!). I tagged along to church with Mom and Dad and all 3 girls and I'm so incredibly thankful that I did. It was a richly blessed day of learning and worship, which my soul desperately needed. I think God may be directing us toward a different church, but that will have to wait until Jacob can come check things out, and that's only if the poor man can ever get a day off again.

Thank You, Father. Thank You for the opportunity to worship You collectively with Your church. Thank You for the Sunday School lesson. I will be meditating on that heavily in the coming weeks and months. Thank You for a loving family, which sacrificed and helped us go to church in the first place. I'm completely and thoroughly exhausted but completely and thoroughly thankful for the opportunity to worship You. You restoreth my soul...

2. Marriage!

This isn't cheating just because I listed my husband as number 1. The two blessings are joined but different. Jacob was a blessing before we were man and wife, and he will be a blessing when we are no longer man in wife in our lives to come (a very, very sorrowful thought).

The blessing of marriage is a gift from the Lord in so many glorious ways. Yesterday, I came across a timely article about this subject and I want to share it rather than trying to summarizing it (which would probably butcher a wonderfully written piece).

Marriage in God's Story by Phil Smidt

In the beginning

The story of God is one of Good News, and it begins with a wedding ceremony.

After God created the heavens and earth and filled it, he made the man and the woman, uniting them in marriage.

God created marriage for his purposes, not ours, as marriage belongs to him. He determined marriage as a sacred union on which he would build the foundation for establishing families and, ultimately, society and culture.

Marriage is

God defined marriage from the beginning: an intimate, covenant relationship between one man and one woman lasting a lifetime (Genesis 2:24, Proverbs 2:16-17, Malachi 2:14).

Biblically, Moses first characterized marriage: “Therefore (because of marriage – my emphasis) a man shall leave his father and his mother, hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh” (Genesis 2:24). In the New Testament, both Jesus (Matthew 19:5, Mark 10:6–7) and Paul (Ephesians 5:32) affirm Moses and agree with God’s definition of marriage:

• It is exclusive (one man and his wife).
• It is not defined by temporal family ties but by permanent covenantal promises (leave father and mother).
• It is a lifetime commitment (hold fast).
• Intimacy (oneness) ensues (they become one flesh).

However, marriage was never meant as an end to itself.

As the story of God begins to unfold, he reveals his greater intention for marriage.

A covenant promise

God’s love for his people has always been steadfast and sure, and he holds fast to them in a permanent, exclusive, intimate, covenantal relationship.

Vows and promises are the basis for a covenant. On a wedding day, the bride and groom make vows to one another, promising to love each other solely for a lifetime, regardless of circumstances.

Throughout Scripture, there are numerous parallels drawn between the covenant promises of God and his chosen people and the covenant promises of a husband and wife in marriage. Specifically, God calls himself “husband” and his people, “bride” (Isaiah 54:5, 62:5, Jeremiah 2:2, Revelation 19:7, 21:2, 9, 22:17).

God is better at promises than we are

A problem has existed since Genesis 3 regarding the difference between God’s covenants and ours:

• God makes promises and keeps them.
• We make promises and break them.

When the people of God sin against him and chase after other gods, their sinful deeds are named ‘spiritual adultery’ and ‘whoredom’—strong language for sin, but an accurate description of the relationally destructive nature of our rebellion against a loving, trustworthy, and Holy God (Hosea, Jeremiah 3:6–21, 31:32, Ezekiel 23, Psalm 106:39).

We don’t sin in a vacuum. Someone is always, beginning with God, sinned against. But continually, a passionate, faithful God pursues and intervenes, providing payment for sin that is sufficient and everlasting for rebellious children who repent.

Jesus and marriage

Ephesians 5:23–32 reveals more of God’s plan for Christian marriage as it is written specifically to Spirit-filled husbands and wives (Ephesians 5:1,18): “This mystery is profound, and I am saying it refers to Christ and the church” (Ephesians 5:32). The mystery refers to God’s plan of redemption for his church (his bride), collectively all who have received salvation through Christ’s atoning death on the cross.

This powerful image of Christ, and the church in general, also permeates the marriage of one man and one woman, specifically applying itself in the daily details of their life together. Without Jesus, it is impossible for the husband and wife to muster up enough strength, loving feelings, or good intentions to fulfill their biblical role and calling in marriage. But because of him, two sinful, completely different individuals can be miraculously transformed into one.

Roles of husband and wife defined by the cross

It is clear the Biblical roles of husband and wife are less about what the couple should do and more about what Jesus has done for them.

Christian wives can look to the cross and see Jesus who freely submitted himself to the will of the Father to die in her place (Ephesians 5:22–24). Her submissive response is not to be one of begrudging foot-dragging, competition with her husband, or a fearful power struggle, but joyful and purposeful, just like Christ’s attitude was for her (Hebrews 12:2).

Likewise, Christian husbands can look to the cross and see Jesus, who in love and humility laid his life aside to die for the man’s sin. Jesus then defeated death and rose to live for and lead the church, providing for its needs (Philippians 2:3–8). In the same way, Christ now calls husbands to die to themselves and live for and lead their wives and children in bringing attention and glory to God, not to rule as controlling tyrants or disappear as cowardly abdicators (Ephesians 5:25–30).

God’s vision for marriage

Spirit-filled married couples have the opportunity to know and accept each other deeply, as they learn that loving someone else isn’t natural, nor does it come easily. They get to love because Christ loves them (1 John 4:10–11). They don’t need to fear intimacy or confessing sin, they can walk in the freedom of faith and repentance. Since they have been graced and forgiven they can offer grace and forgiveness to each other. Because God has been kind to them, they can be kind to one another (Ephesians 4:32).

As helpful companions who see their spouse as a precious gift from God, together they get to face the blessings, trials, and unexpected surprises of life, saturate their children with Jesus, serve brothers and sisters in the church, and share the gospel with neighbors, extended families and co-workers. Just as Jesus continues to intentionally pursue and love them, they get to creatively pursue and love each other, building a God-honoring legacy as they grow old together.

Wedded bliss

The Bible ends with a wedding ceremony. In Revelation 19:6–9, the story of God culminates in Jesus bringing his Bride, the church, home to live with him permanently. Those who have trusted in Christ for salvation throughout history, whether anticipating his coming or looking back to when he came, will live with him forever.

The marriage supper of the Lamb proves that the covenant-keeping God honors his promises. That is your hope, and will always be the hope of the Bride of Christ.

For someone like me who was raised in a home ruled by a tyrannical and frightening, abusive man such as my father, seeing God as anything other than a much larger version of my earthly father seems like an insurmountable obstacle. An intimate, steady, trusting relationship with God has always eluded me and through no fault of the Father's! I've always found it effortless to believe the Father of Lies rather than my loving Creator. Doubt and insecurity dog nearly every step.

After reading this article yesterday, I felt as though a veil had been removed from my eyes. While I spent my day meditating on the blessing that is my husband in conjunction with thinking about this article, I had a "Holy Ah Ha! moment."

God is showing me who He really is through the blessing of marriage to a Godly man. The Father is teaching me to look at my husbands sacrificial love rather than backward at my terrifying childhood to see a model of His love for me. I am God's daughter and He has lovingly entrusted me to a man who loves Jesus and seeks the will of God for our joined lives. Just as we have been joined in the unbreakable covenant of marriage, so I have been joined with Christ in the eternal new covenant of His salvation. Earthly fathers walk out, but God does not. He has never broken His promise and I can rest in the fact He never will.

Thank You, Father! My resolve my falter, but You will not. Thank You for redeeming my defiled view of You. Thank You for adopting me as Your daughter and entrusting me in this beautiful covenant to a man who loves You. Help me to grow deeper and more secure in this sanctified view of who You are every day, by Your goodness and grace!

counting my blessings

I so rarely do it. I'm highly skilled in the art of self-pity. I know all the best means of wallowing in the muck and mire of life's challenges and sing of my woes at the top of my lungs.

Disgusting, really.

Father, You are so faithful and I am continually faithless. Please accept my simple (and deeply heartfelt) "Thank You." for Your patience, love and kindness.

I'm starting a list of 1000 blessings. I will think of and then meditate on 1 blessing everyday, which God in His mercy and grace has blessed this ill-deserving sinner with. I most likely will not faithfully attend to this list...when was the last time I even wrote on this blog? But I will try.

Seriously. I mean it.

What better day and way to start out this list than on this day of all days?!

My anniversary!

1. My husband.

Oh, my sweet, dear, precious husband. Next to my even more supremely precious Jesus, I can think of nothing more profound and important in my life than you, dear man. Not even the breath in my lungs is more cherished than you. God, in His infinite mercy and grace, gave me to you...you who deserve so much better. Jacob, you are my protector, my closest confidant, my number-one fan, my climbing buddy in whom I intrust my life, my Song of Solomon lover, my late-night movie and ice cream pal, my best friend and God's saving grace in my life. You know exactly where I was headed before Jesus put you in my path to stop the downward spiral. I was filthy with sin and shame and you loved me any way. I am nothing if not a challenge (of the greatest magnitude) to love, and yet you do. You love deeply and completely.

Wow...words simply do you, my love, no justice.

You have seen me and endured me at my absolute worst, but you stand firm as my rock. With outstretched arms, you embrace me and softly sing in my ear "You are my sunshine..."

We've delivered 3 beautiful daughters into this world now; I say "we've delivered" and not "I've delivered" quite deliberately. I could not have made it through one moment of those labors without your incredibly strong arms holding me up, sustaining me through every single contraction, nor without your gentle words of adoration and encouragement, pressing me closer to the joyful birth of our lovely little ones.

Has it only been 4 years? It feels like I've never known a time without you because your love is such a healing, consuming force. It feels like only a day because, as the old adage goes, "Time flies when you're having fun."

Jacob, you are my blessing of the highest order and today I meditate on God's supreme goodness in light of your blessing on my life. I love you.

And Father, I love You. For all You have given me that I did nothing to earn and for all You have given despite all I have done to make myself so totally unworthy, I give You my praise, adoration, worship, awe and thanks.