The feeling of summer

I was flipping back through the old blog, trying to get a feel for what summer was like last year or the year before that.  What I found was a litany of summer *things*.  I have a penchant for details, so I understand why I talked about sunglasses and watermelon and other trappings of June & July.  I think what I missed in doing that though is the feeling of summer.

Summer feels more relaxed like air-dried hair, later nights, and more reasons to see people you love, more reasons to celebrate both big milestones, transitions, and just the gift of life in general.  Sandy feet, the warmth of pool concrete, and sun dresses.  Sheesh, there I go with my lists again.

My cousin graduated high school, and I don't know why we are posing like this.

To me, summer feels like deja vu of 12 months ago, remembering the scent of suntan lotion on beach towels, a warm gust of wind before an afternoon thunderstorm, or neighborhood cookout smells hopping over fences and down sidewalks.  I still get goose bumped nostalgia some days recalling the feeling of summers years or even decades ago.  I can specifically remember the joy walking home from elementary school one year knowing that after the busyness of chorus concerts and end of the year parties and book fairs, there was calm, no more homework, and anticipation of all the fun to come.  At dusk some days I'm taken back to the nights around my high school graduation, blasting the radio with the windows down, party hopping, proud of what we had done.

definitely a summer baby like her momma

Summer has come to life in big ways for our family so far.  We have danced barefoot at outdoor concerts.  We have taken a big road trip.  Landon has a swim lesson on Friday, and Copeland has a birthday next month.  This summer is going to be big!

When I hear Bob Marley, beach music, Jimmy Buffet, or the Beach Boys, I'm taken back to summers of old, and I realize the great responsibility and joy that I have to help make summer memories with my kiddos. I see my cousin who was Landon's age when I graduated high school walk across his own stage and I think about my past and my kids' futures.  I'm so happy that I get to enjoy this summer with my crazy fun family.

As my mom says, "We're on vacation!" Happy Summer friends.

borders

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever You would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my Savior

--Oceans (Where Feet May Fail), Hillsong United

This is the time of year where some borders come down.  Without the discipline of school days, bedtimes can get longer, mornings can get lazier.  Baths can be postponed, or even replaced with a run through the sprinkler or a dip in the pool.  My baby's last day of 2K is Thursday, and it seems we were just dropping him off on the very first day.  This release from the rhythm of school both gives me both a renewed sense of freedom, along with a fresh reminder of time, growth, and change--2 to 3, spring to summer, toddler to big girl.  It is bittersweet.

Along with the summer start that is universal this time of year, we are experiencing some unique transitions in our family right now.  My cousin (who happens to be a best friend) moved to Florida last week.  Two of my dearest friends are about to have their second babies within the next 3 months.  My cousin is graduating high school.  

I am a person who finds hope in transitions...in hindsight.  I can look back on Landon’s first day of school or Copeland’s birth day or when Justin and I were broken up (his favorite story) or when I moved to Greenville and see God’s work & redemption.  I can see the Beginning & the End in my past, easy.  It’s when you are standing on the brink of the future and realize that you are at a border, the water’s edge, that it is maybe a little uncomfortable or a lot scary. 

These shifts in life are like lines on a ruler or chapters in a book, they keep you captive, but also remind you of just how many inches you've come or just how far away you are from the start.  All of sudden, I have two preschoolers who are best friends.  Landon draws people and has imaginary birthday parties.  Copeland sings songs and tells me what to do :)    

This song has been on repeat all day:

                                             

It is beautiful to me that Jesus called his disciples to cross some pretty amazing borders; leave their jobs, sell everything they have, walk on water, heal the sick.  It is beautiful only, I guess, when in the end, He didn't fail them and He was with them like He promised.  It is beautiful because those followers of Christ knew truth that transcended any border that they faced.  Even though my silly little change may be an empty schedule next Tuesday where school used to be, or watching my babies grow independent, Jesus is still my strength to do those things.

car line, some of my most precious memories

powdering her baby's diaper, such a little mommy

We are so blessed.

My fourth Mother's Day

When I picked Landon up from school, he gripped his teacher's hand as they walked down the steps.  "This gift is very fragile, Mommy," she said, and I helped him hold the white paper bag that he had decorated with pink doilies and floral stickers.

My first school Mother's Day gift.

I went to a baby shower tonight with four pregnant bellies there; two first children, one second child/first daughter, one third child.  I wonder if, just like trimesters, just like birth order, if there aren't stages of mommy-hood.

I watched tiny onesies displayed with animals on the butt, shiny bottles & cozy lovies, cloth diapers, and teeny tiny infant sunglasses.  Pacis and baskets and teethers.  I remember opening those gifts, and having no idea what life would be like when they came alive.

My friends, we pass cribs back and forth, trade boxes of hoodies & pjs in month to month sizes, and pair new baby name possibilities with the older siblings' name.  We eagerly count down due dates, dream about hospital visits, and pray during the in between.  We talk spit-up, food aversions, and poop disasters.

I have the most precious girl friends; the ones that don't want kids, and those who do not know yet, the ones who were born to be mothers, and the ones who are waiting, the women who make it look easy, and the newborn-mode gals who are scraping by.  I have seen sisters lose babies with faith, and others fight to be called Mom, setting an orphan in a family.  It takes strength to be a mom.

I'm coming to realize now, in whatever Mom-stage I'm in, that the courage it takes to mother goes beyond sleepless nights and checkup shots.  Most days, on that walk down the stairs, Landon's teacher will say, "There's your Mommy!" We meet eyes, and he smiles so big. "What you got something in the car for me, Mom?" he asks as I buckle him in, ready for a snack.  "HEEEEY YANYAN!" Copeland waves. I grab a banana or crackers or pretzels, something I picked today just for him.

I think that the bravest thing a mom can do, is to be there on the drive home, between the known and the unknown, certainty and new, the brave road.

I unwrapped that sweet gift, for the first time ever, honestly not knowing what it was that he made just for me.  I unfolded the pink tissue paper to reveal a picture frame with the cutest, cheesiest, goofiest, least natural smiling face of my baby boy I've ever seen in my life.  I read the card, covered with a photo of him and I on Valentine's Day, the (2nd) love of my life with a bright red tie.  I want to tell him that it's the best gift I've ever gotten and that I'm proud of him for stamping his purple  hand on the construction paper and grinning in the bright sunshine for my frame, even signing an "L" for his name.

Within an hour, Copeland will vascillate between, 'I na want help!' insisting to buckle her shoes herself, and "I Mama," tugging at my skirt with her arms in the air for me to hold her.  Landon will say, "I'm getting bigger Mommy, but I'm not tall yet!"  No matter how long I am a mom, no matter how old they get, motherhood will always be this.  Squeezing them so tight, but proud of the things they do without me.

Create/Created

If you live in Greenville or are ever visiting, you MUST take yourself and your kids to the CAT center (Creating Artists for Tomorrow).  It is an hour and a half of bright bliss!

Jude's mommy blogs too!

I don't think I have the guts to say, "I'm an artist," the way I have heard people so confidently declare, but I do think I'm artistic.  It is easy for me to see the art in teaching.  I *usually* see the art in parenting.  After this morning, I am considering letting the kids go free with some tempera to our backyard fence.  I'm messy (that's related to creativity right?)  

I couldn't help but think this afternoon, after watching Copeland's focused eye on whatever she was painting at that moment, Landon's pride in the paper he took home, the uninhibited way that Truett rainbow-ed everything in sight, Liam's joy at flinging splatters of color...I couldn't help but think that we are creative because we were created.  We can create because we have a Creator.

 

I was asked to write a summary of the Gospel last week, and ever since then, hardly a day goes by where I don't think, "Oh I should have included that..." or "It's also kind of like this..."   The more I think about the Story of God or the Gospel or Jesus (also known as The Beginning & the End), the more I realize how creative how He is, how it all is. And in the same way I grinned when Copeland took a big ole spatula full of white paint and ate it, I think that Jesus sees my efforts to understand Him and his kingdom and gets a big smile on his face.  I think that when Justin and I have conversations about the Bible that make my brain hurt or leave me with more questions than I started with, he thinks, "Good job!"

Check out Tru's mommy's art here

That big ole house-turned-every-kids-dream with electric pink trees and blue splotches on the ceiling is so appealing because of the freedom it offered my babies today.  The part that I love is that not a day goes by where those shutters and door knobs and hardwood floors remain the same; they are changed every single day by tiny fingerprints and enthusiastically-wielded brushes.  The sun sets on a different house each afternoon.  I think that is what God sees when He sees us.

When I'm tempted to think all my attempts at motherhood or teaching or disciplining or *shudder* cleaning are a muddled mess, I can remember that the Lord has a good design in mind.  I can fling my paint with abandon!  Thank you Jesus.

I went on a run this morning with Copeland, and the whirly helicopter-like seeds stirred up between my feet and the stroller, as if they were ready to lift off and follow behind us. That Fun song came on, and in light of the recent terrorism and explosions and floods in our country, "Carry on" sounded much more important than the chorus of some top hit.

I told a friend the other day that as strange as it sounds, I actually prefer to be going through this hard and scary part of our nation's history with sweet little kids at home.  In their eyes, picking flowers (weeds yall!) in the front yard is a thrill every single morning, second only to the excitement of giving them to someone.  Hearing kernels pop on the stove top induces wide-eyed wonder.  Hours pass in the backyard playing with mud and water and occasionally, the persistent dog.

On mile one, I watched  her curls sway in the wind, her arms shaking joyfully in the sunlight.  She babbled for a good mile to the birds and dogs and cars and trees.

My children give me a lot of hope.  I am humbled by the chance to send a boy and a girl off into this world with faith and love.  I pray that nothing will damper Copeland's loud "HEY!" that she unabashedly yells to any and everyone.  The way they smile at cashiers, the way they dance to cheesy pop songs, the way their hair curls in perfect ringlets on their forehead and they don't even notice, the way they clap their hands, all these endless sweet childlike things that Jesus praised and loved, I look forward to one day being able to tell them how those things they do strengthen me.  And those things that they do can change the world.

Easter 2013

It is appropriate that I am writing about Easter today, because we have been sick for a whole week.  It was a cold and rainy 39 degrees last night, but today is all blue skies and white clouds.  I am SO THANKFUL that we are all finally well.

We had such a great time visiting with family in Columbia.  Poor Copeland ran a fever on Friday night along with a horrible sounding upper respiratory thing, but she was still so happy and fun and sweet.

Landon is getting SO BIG.  One of my favorite things to do these days is watch and listen to him play when he doesn't see me.  The way that he pretends with his super heroes, makes his cars dialogue, "Come on guys, we're counting on you!", and 'reads' books is seriously the sweetest.  Today we were running errands and I said, "When I get home I'm going to take a nap," and he said "Oh, and I am going to NOT!" :D too cute! This morning he picked out a heavy sweater to wear and when I told him it may be a little hot, he touched the sleeve and said, "Oh here mom, it's not hot!" (Then again who can blame him with the winter weather lately!)  So my day is full of precious cute innocent things that Landon says all day long.  I love being his Mom.  Today I took him to the bathroom during lunch and he was asking me about the lock on the toilet paper holder thing and telling me how he hear 'Bopeland' yelling back at the booth, and it was so funny! I guess this is the 'why? what's that? who? what?' stage if he can't even sit on the potty for two minutes in silence!

I guess I haven't even really talked about Easter.  I guess I could start here: I do really bad when we get sick.  I know that it is a fact of life, it is going around the city, and everyone deals with it, but I just don't take it well.  This is embarrassing to say, but I take sickness personally I think!  So while everyone is crying and wheezing and coughing and snotting, while no one is happy and everything is a mess and we are all in our pjs at 2 pm watching tv all day, I'm thinking 'I'm an incompetent mother, 5 oclock is never going to come, I can't raise two children...'

What does that have to do with Easter exactly? Well, in Galatians 2, Paul says, "I have been crucified with Christ, and no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live through faith in the Son of God who loved me, and gave himself for me.  I do not set aside the grace of God, for if righteousness could be gained through the law then Christ died for nothing."  In other words, my ability (or lack thereof), does not make up my identity.  The resurrection of Jesus gives me the power to live in communion with Him even (or especially) as I'm struggling.  I can identify that bent of my heart to criticize myself, and overcome it through the power of the Cross.

It simply isn't spring until I see azaleas, you Columbians may identify

Happy Easter everyone!  The tomb is empty.

Lent 2013

Lent 2012
Lent 2011
Lent 2010

I remember when I was in high school, I 'gave up' secular music for Lent and vowed to only listen to the Christian radio station.  As if that wasn't difficult enough (there's only so much HIS radio one can stand), what innocently arrived on my parents' front steps, but our music club order of my latest dozen cds (for the price of one, ofcourse)?! Temptation in its purest form.


15ish years later and Lent has gotten a little harder, but infinitely more rewarding that breaking open a Fleetwood Mac album on Easter morning.  I look back on Lent over the past three years, and wonder when I will come to expect difficulty during this time (maybe the 5th year is a charm).  This year too we've experienced more death, illness, and miscommunication.  I've been involved in a training over the past few weeks that has exposed me to the grossest, darkest, most evil kind of sin.  However, what weighed on me three years ago does not discourage me today.

Through a brutal week or so with close friends and family, I read that the 'binding up of the brokenhearted' is an intimate act of Jesus when we are devastated.  In the exact same way that Landon learns to trust me when I return to his room when he is scared at night, I become more confident in Christ when I take my worries to him.  Even when things are hard or do not make sense.

In 2010, I took my insecurities in sharing my faith, and the Lord has blessed us with little glimpses in Landon (and others around us) that let us know we are bearing fruit.  In 2011, I didn't know if my daughter would be healthy or not, and now I know that even if she wasn't, He would sustain us through it. 

Last year as well as this year, I am grateful for the sacrifice of the Lord's son Jesus on the cross which is our hope.  Because of his resurrection, we know that no matter how dark the darkness, there is still more light in this world.

Here's a little random joy we've experienced over the past month.  Thank you Jesus.