One

How in the world could all of this amazingness have happened one year ago today?  It hardly seems possible that so much healing and love and happiness can wrapped up in the gift that is our one-year-old Sadie Joy.

The happy birthday girl!

I had big plans for this weekend for her.....a Mickey/Minnie birthday party with her cousin Landon and getting her dedicated at church this Sunday.  Neither happened thanks to a killer storm that knocked out power in our whole county for the past 2 nights.  Instead we had a fun family adventure  at my parents' who generously shared shared their generator and plenty of food.  We still managed to have a small family celebration at B and Pop Pop's.  

She was a little confused by the cake

Molly was not

But she came around

What a big helper!

 

 Happy Birthday, sweet Sadie girl!!!

The Heavens Declare

June proves to be a good month for teaching about God's glory.  Evening thunderstorms, warm nights, colorful sunsets, bright stars, crystal blue skies (they're all on my list of blessings.)  Nothings sets my heart into a flurry of wonder than looking up and seeing the heavens.  I hope to instill that kind of awe for God's creation in my girls, so last week, this was our verse that I wrote on our chalkboard in the kitchen:

We made this little sun to hang on our art wall in the play room.

We also made a moon with colorful star stickers, but it ended up in Daddy's office at school before I could take a picture of it.  

 We talked about sunsets and how God paints the evening sky.  (We paint a lot with water on our chalkboard wall.)

 (Sadie was more interested in our mermaid family fishbowl than learning some gospel truths.) 

 

And we watched this video.  Molly sat on my lap, thumb in her mouth, fingers stroke my earlobe.  While this played I whispered in her ear,  "Look at the sky!  Isn't God amazing!?!?  Look what He made us.  He must love us so much to make us something so beautiful!" And I say the verse, over and over until she can soak it all in.   Her heart just absolutely swells with music and wonder.

"Look at the pink stars!"  She says.  She also promptly pointed out Saturn to me.  (Crazy kid!) 

At dinner that night, Justin asked Molly what she did that day.  

She answered, "I saw the glory of God on mama's computer!"  Then we watched it together as a family around the dinner table while she narrated.  

   

One day before we went out on another one of our "adventure walks", she asked, "Are we going out to see the work of His hands?"  

*sigh*  I just love her.  And I praise Him for the work of His hands- for the sky and for the beautiful baby girls I tuck in each night under the stars He has made for us.  

  

(nothing like a little bribery to get her to say her verse)

What are some ways you instill wonder for God's creation with your littles?  

How the first one hundred changed me

She stoops down low and scoops up another.

"Look at this one, mama!  It's so sparkly!" She cups it in her small hands and brings it to her nose and takes a moment to tell me how wonderful it is.  I don't have the heart to tell her that the driveway is filled with ones exactly like this one.  I let her find the magic in it and we celebrate the discovery. She names it.  "Gaine" this one is called, she says.  She runs over to the puddle God made her yesterday and casts it in.  The sound, the splash, the rings it leaves behind send her into giggles again.  She runs back to the driveway to find another.

I too run, not to the puddle, but to the open journal on the counter, and I cast my own into a sea of never-ending graces.

14.  The rain that brought the "Stone Puddle" game

I take a moment to tell the Maker "thank you" for the smallness that instantly becomes something to marvel at the moment I take the time to scribble it down.  How many times have I left so many graces underfoot by simply not taking the time to count them?  How many opportunities have I lost in thanking Creator God for crafting me a lifetime of joy made up of miniscule moments such as these?      

Count them, count them, pile them high!  He is good.  He is SO good.

 21.  New books and ravenous reading
37. Dozens and dozens of dragonflies and the reminder of the Resurrection, how He makes all things new
42.  A weary husband who is willing to clean
53.  Hymns that speak truth to my heart and a body of seasoned believers to sing them with
62.  Sadie- and her belly laugh when discovered how her finger fits perfectly in her nostril
79.  Tantrums past and the patience to endure them 
91.  Listening to John Piper while he peels, and I chop, and they sleep



I am twenty-eight days full of graces, when I realize I've hit 100.  It started with a challenge from our pastor's wife to write three things down a day that you're thankful for, and the reading of this book that showed me the importance of it.  And, oh, how He has blessed me through it!  

And its not about finding the things.   The things are mere shadows of His grace.  Its the treasure hunt that is really the Treasure hunt- the discovery of gifts that show His goodness, provision, kindness, and grace.  And its not the actual discovery, but the act of looking that changes me.  It turns my heart from, "Why can't I ever find a matching pair?!?!?!" to "A sea of socks- I am so blessed to have too many."

It's teaching me to stoop low, marvel, name, and cast back.  Sometimes the ripples last all day, sometimes only minutes, but watching how He wraps such small details in Grace makes me so thankful that I am my Beloved's and He is mine.

100.  One hundred graces and thousands more to find.  

The story behind my broken cup and the boy who crushed me in the process

It was the fall semester of my senior year in college.  My mother came up to visit me in western New York before the snow started falling and would soon overtake the world until April.  It was a beautiful weekend for driving away from campus, and as we were traveling through one of the small towns, we spotted a community-wide yard sale that scattered the road sides.

"Let's stop." She said, as she pulled over the car to the side of the road.

"I don't need anything," I protested.

"Maybe we'll find some treasures," she slammed the car door behind her.

As I gazed over the tables filled with old kitchen utensils, toys, and trinkets, immediately my eyes were drawn to bottles of colored glass, all shapes and sizes.  "I guess I better start my still life collection," I told her.  Soon, I would be an art teacher and I would need things like that, fun things for my students to draw.  I started to get excited about the future as I scoured the tables for objects that would find a new home in an unknown art room somewhere someday.

Three years later, I was carefully unrolling newspaper and bubble wrap from my colored treasures and placing them on a high shelf in my new art room.  I arranged and rearranged them, coupling them in groups and pairs that made them look interesting and important and appealing.  Each group told a story.  A teapot, candle, and cup.  A cobalt blue glass next to a dull silver pitcher.  A birdhouse next to a vase of silk flowers and a watering can.  It was a spectacle to behold.  I decided I was the coolest art teacher ever.  

Finally the day came when my ninth grade drawing class was going to delve into my treasure trove of drawing inspiration.  I carefully removed each object from the shelf with great care, as I showed them each piece.  "See the shape of this bottle?  Isn't it just fabulous?  Look at the nozzle of this oil can.  Isn't that silhouette so interesting?  Can I get an 'oooooo'?"  oooooooooooo.   "Can I get an 'ahhhhhh'?"  ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.  Yep, I was indeed awesome, and I had the still life collection to prove it.  I asked them to please take great care of the pieces, as some were breakable, and I would be devastated if something would happen to them.

*Note to first year art teachers.  Fourteen year old boys don't know the meaning of "be careful."  I think they translate it as, "see if you can throw things across the room without dropping them."

They can't.

My beautiful vintage mint green little egg cup lay shattered in pieces.  The room fell silent.  All eyes went to the red-haired culprit in the corner of the room.  Then all eyes focused on me, waiting for me to explode into either tears or a tirade of verbal battery.

I felt as shattered as the cup on the floor.  I felt awful that he not only disrespected my property, but it was a slap in the face to what I thought was beautiful and precious and worth protecting.  How could I get them to see the value in drawing something they didn't think was special enough not to break?

I walked over to my shelf, and without making eye contact with the student, who stood wide-eyed, dumbfounded, and embarrassed, I handed him my hot glue gun.  I spoke two words without lifting my gaze off the floor, "Fix it."

He painstakingly took the pieces off the floor and laid them on the table.  Ignoring the jabs and jeers from his peers, with flushed cheeks and sweaty palms, he took each piece and tried to restore the small cup to its original grandeur.  By the end of the class period, my frustration had ebbed, and I took pity on the boy who disrespected my entire life's calling with one careless swipe of his elbow.  Maybe I couldn't get him to see value in an old dusty cup, but maybe I could show him how beautiful grace is.   

"I am SO sorry," he apologized over and over, feeling the full weight of what he had done.

I picked up the cup, running my fingers over the cracks and into the newly formed holes.  "You know," I spoke with gentleness, "I think I like it even better now.  Look how interesting it is!  See?"  I turned the cup around, letting the on-lookers see it from each angle.  "Sometimes accidents happen.  It's going to be so much more interesting to draw....and now, it has a story."

And now it has a story.   

Psalm 34: Sweetly Broken

"Taste and see that the LORD is good; 
blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.
The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears them, 
he delivers them from all their troubles.  
The LORD is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit."  v. 8, 17-18

It took me a while to want to write about this Psalm.  Mostly because I had no idea why I drew this image.  Its the picture that flooded my mind's eye when I put pencil to paper, and so obediently, I drew it.  And immediately I didn't understand it.  It didn't fit the verses.  It didn't depict a butterfly that was tasting goodness or going to a place that was a refuge.  I wrote in my journal, "Why would God bother to go through the painful process of transforming us, only to bring us from one broken home to another?  This doesn't look like God is saving anything 'from their troubles.'  It's like He's showing it where to go to find more of them."   I'll have to draw something else one day that fits better, I thought.  But nothing ever came to mind.

A few days ago, I was thinking about brokenness and scars and the ugly and hard part of loving a God we don't understand completely.   I know I'm a little late on the bandwagon, but I've been reading One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.  When I first started reading it, I felt like I put on her dirty smudged glasses, and as she writes, she slowly, painstakingly is wiping the ugly away, letting me see the beauty of her world and our God.   It is, like David writes, a slow tasting, and a sweet seeing.

She writes, "With memories of gravestones, of combing fingers through tangled hair, I wonder too...if the rent in the canvas of our life backdrop, the losses that puncture our world, our own emptiness, might actually become places to see. 

To see through to God.  

That that which tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond.  To Him.  To the God whom we endlessly crave."   

 

Could it be that this tasting and seeing the holy God wholly can only be understood when we first taste the saltiness of tears?  I've let out a dozen holy groans from my bowels, realizing how beautiful the ugly is.  It is both the ugly and the beauty of the cross, the sacrifice that brought Him nearer to us so we might find a refuge in Him.  It is how He is close to the brokenhearted, because He, Himself, chose to be broken for us.

I finally get it.  I've tasted the ugly, and come out seeing the beauty.  Only God can do that.  Isn't He good???

Some thoughts on Good Friday

Before I break out the vinegar and dye,
Before I fill my girls' Easter baskets with treats,
Before I put on their pretty pink dresses with sparkly shoes,
Before I sit down to share Easter dinner with my family,
Before I celebrate a living Savior...

I stop to think of the dying Savior, who chose to suffer so we could all come to know His Father the way He does.


Today I am thankful, not that the tomb was empty, but that first it was filled. 



But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Rom 5:8 

Day 5: What Zacchaeus taught ME

Zacchaeus the Tax Collector

 ¹ Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. ² A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. ³ He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. ⁴ So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way.  ⁵ When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” ⁶ So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly.
 ⁷ All the people saw this and began to mutter, “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.”
 ⁸ But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”
 ⁹ Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. ¹⁰ For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”   

Luke 19:1-10

Concentrating on one story with Molly has really forced me into the Word in such an amazing way this week.  As I was pouring truth into her little heart, it seems as though God has been pouring into mine.  So here are a few lessons He has taught me through the life of Zacchaeus this week.  

The tree

 As I was helping Molly make her sycamore tree, I thought about what it must have been like for God to plant that seed in the ground and watch it grow.  Making sure it was planted right next to the path that Jesus would walk on some day, crafting its branches to make it the perfect climbing tree, giving it a strong trunk to bear the weight of a short Jewish man. He really is an amazing Creator!  

It made me think about all the "trees" he has planted in my life to draw me closer to Jesus.  The trials He has placed in specific times and places on my journey, the people he brought about at just the right times to speak truth and encouragement, the verses I read on days I need my head to be lifted...they draw me into a closer walk with Him, and just like Zacchaeus, they have allowed me to see Jesus more clearly.  

The coins

When Molly and I talked about Zaccheaus being a tax collector, it made me think about how the proper response after I come into contact with Jesus should be generosity to those in need. 

I thought about all the ways that I hold back from giving all I should.  I am more like Zacchaeus, the tax collector, than I like to admit.  I steal time and energy away from my children when I choose to spend time on facebook instead of reading to them.  I steal time away from making my house a haven for my family when I choose not to do dishes or vaccum and say, "I've had a long day...I need to veg on the couch."  I steal a better education away from my students when I don't take the time to prepare for a lesson as much as I should.   I am wealthy, and many times to choose to hoard my time, talents, and energy for myself.

Just like Zaccheaus, close encounters with Jesus tend to expose me to my own sin.

The house

The transformation that happened at Zacchaeus's house and in his heart was a profound miracle...just as worthy of celebration of the blind man seeing, lame man walking, or deaf man hearing.  I can imagine Jesus coming to this man's house and how proud Zacchaeus must have been to flaunt his wealth.  I don't know what Jesus said to him while He was there, but when He left, Zacchaeus's response was shame for how much he had, and remorse for how little his neighbor had.  It made me think to myself, "If Jesus came to my house, would I be ashamed of how I am using my resources here?  Am I keeping too much for myself when by giving things away I could be a blessing to others?" 

 The climb

Two things I assume about Zacchaeus's climb that day...  One: being a wealthy man, he was probably wearing nice clothes- clothes that were not meant to climb trees in.  And two: he either tried and failed to press through the crowds, or didn't bother trying because he knew how much he was hated.  Grown men don't climb trees.  His desire to see Jesus was more powerful than caring what other people thought of him.

 Does my desire to know Jesus outweigh my desire to be liked, accepted, or appreciated by peers?  Or do I care too much about how I am perceived and miss an opportunity to meet Him in my humility?

Climbing can be difficult, humbling, and time consuming.  But like Zacchaeus learned on a road in Jericho that day, meeting Jesus is always worth it.   

Zacchaeus: Day 4.... Climbing

I wanted to teach Molly how when Zacchaeus climbed a tree he could see more.  When we search for things, sometimes it helps to get a better perspective.  I thought about taking her to the playground and climbing the equipment, even climbing things in our house (but then I knew that would be a bad idea in hindsight....Molly on the bookshelf, Molly on the top of the couch...Molly on the sink....you get the idea.) 

I opted to take her and Sadie to a wildlife refuge about 10 minutes from my house.  My dad happens to be the most amazing bird and wildlife identifier I know, and it was extra special to have Pop pop come along for our adventure.

 

Molly and Pop pop with matching "adventure hats"

Our first stop was the look-out tower.  I told Molly, "We're going to climb the tower just like Zacchaeus! What did Zacchaeus climb?"  Molly answered, "A sycamore tree!  C'mon Pop pop!  Let's climb the tower!"  (Ah, sweet repetition pays off.  If only there were some sycamore trees around here.)

Climbing with Pop pop.

Almost there...

At the top!

Pop pop showing her some geese flying. 

A look through the telescope. 

 At this point, she didn't want to go down, but I asked her, "What did Jesus say to Zacchaeus?"  And she sang, pointer finger in the air, "Zacchaeus, YOU COME DOWN!  For I'm going to your house today...."  And then she wanted to climb down.

Ready with her 'nocs.

We got back in the car for the rest of our adventure to see some ducks and geese.  

An egret and black duck. 

Driving around the refuge.  You can see Atlantic City in the background.

Looking closer with her binoculars.

Snow geese. 

Shovelers.

We ended our day with a trip to Bagel Gormet where Molly got a bagel with pink strawberry cream cheese, and we visited Justin at school to deliver him a bagel for lunch.  It was a pretty excellent day.