Unity vs. Uniformity?

"If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy 

But I don't have love, I'm nothing but a creaking of a rusty gate.

If I speak God's word with power, revealing His mysteries

And making everything plain as day

And if I say to a mountain jump and it jumps

But I don't love, I'm nothing.

If I give all I own to the poor

Or if I even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr

But I don't have love, I've gotten nowhere.

So,

No matter what we say, no matter what we believe, no matter what we do. . .

We're bankrupt without love." (1 Cor. 13 - song: "The Proof of Your love.")

~

The three older boys are working hard this summer mowing lawns and odd jobs for whoever will let them. The little girls are busy coloring here at the table and I'm going to take this chance. I don't expect it will last long and so here goes. . . to write. 

I find hope somehow in writing during this time in my life - hope, because days and nights mesh all together and all the snippets of God speaking get scrambled and I wonder, "I'm I moving forward or just staying still?" 

And then it all kind of starts making sense as I write and I see what God is teaching me more clearly and I am challenged to LIVE what I know and not just collect it as knowledge that I am accountable to do something with -- but don't.

This past month it has become very clear to me that I need healing. That sounds kinda weird and pretty weak to type but I think recognizing my need is the first step to doing something about it. I've known it, known that there was emotional healing that needed to take place, but going about making it happen -- the time needed for that to take place? The extra energy?

How to? How to find that time, how to make the tears come that I know I needed to get out.

I'm not an emotional person, I'm not a crier. I'm not proud of that, it's just fact. I don't cry in movies, sad times, even when I wish I could shed a tear of compassion for another. I feel it on the inside but it seems to just remain bottled up there. Or just disappear. 

I'm not sure if I was born that way or evolved into stoic-ness over time. Maybe I attached some sort of weakness to tears without realizing it. Truth is I just haven't seen purpose in them. More than that, I couldn't make them come even if I wanted the tears to fall.

I know, Jesus wept.

I've even asked God, "Help me weep. I need the release." I'm sure there have been times where others needed me to weep with them too, but I couldn't. About the only time I seemed to get close to dealing with this sort of emotion was in worship or with a song that just hit me right at my heart in the middle of the chaos around me. Typically while driving with the radio on. Bad time to get blurry eyed and so I quickly deal with those tears. 

Somehow shove them back in.

Not that I want to develop into a basket case, but rather I am beginning to think that there could be something healing - something for me that is needed - in tears. Maybe even a flood of them. Though frequent tears might be better than a sudden dam breaking.

This past month God was gracious to allow partial cracks in the dam through some surprising contacts in my life. He uses the unexpected sometimes and all I can say is that I am very grateful. It revealed to me my further need for healing from past relationships in my life that have been complex.

That was a nice word to use: "complex." 

Anyway. . .

Forgiveness had taken place in my heart, but I wrestled still with what God was calling me to do to be the proof of His love in my life . . . how do you show love in relationships where they don't feel loved unless you do things the way they want? How do you love in relationships where uniformity is the basis of what they feel is love and unity is based on that uniformity?

This past month God has made it clearer to me then ever before. What I felt as freedom in the past few years has developed into further freedom in my spirit, and confidence in the path He has led.

I have given in all too often to thinking what others think I should do or how I should act in certain situations is what I am to follow. I was reminded this past month that christianity is not a spectator sport. Nope, that is not the intent of christianity and it goes both ways - I'm not to be a spectator and I should not live shamed by other spectators.

It's basic, but excitingly I was shown once again that my life is in Him, what He says, how He views me.

Seems that is what this blog all began with and it is somewhat of a broken record by now. But that's okay. Maybe it's my theme. Maybe my whole life long I will fight to make Him my life. Everyday, starting again, making that decision to follow Him. I am content to take on that battle. I hope I never give up that fight. I'm sure if I ever think I've arrived then I have lost the battle all together. Losing sight of my need for Him would be my loss.

I find hope that the battle that I fight I've not given up fighting. Forgiveness and love are not defined by the ones demanding that I give it, they are defined by God's Word - and the Holy Spirit really is capable of guiding and leading and directing. . . freeing. Full healing for me has taken longer I think than maybe what it could have been and I believe it is because I have allowed others dictate to me what healing looks like.

This might not make a bit of sense to anyone who reads this but it makes sense to me. I'm encouraged with where God has led this past month. Wrestling is good. It's part of seeking and it's part of relationship, to understanding. Questioning God and others is not a bad thing - one might think, "Well, of course not. . ." But then you don't understand from where I've come or from whom I've been associated with in my life and why I would have ever thought questioning things was wrong. 

All of this could almost be summed up simply in, "...The truth shall set you free..." 

~

I am reminded that God uses those who recognize weakness, combined with a pure heart, motivated out of repentance and love for God.

I want to be used of Him - it's not the well, the strong, the "perfect" He came for. I don't want to fit in that category. Not that I remain in my weaknesses, but that out of His mercy I will have eyes to see so I can go to Him with my need and grow and be changed for His glory.

God takes the ordinary. Not superstars. The broken. Not the spiritually all "put together." The imperfect. Not showcase families, not showcase marriages. The real folks. Not the secret keepers who look shiny on the outside.

I'm quite certain that attempting to live a life that appears like the spiritual superstar is exhausting. Empty. Outward display with private turmoil. The truth of the underneath may never come to light in the public eye, but God is all that matters and what He knows, so. . . we reap. The gospel is not just words, or a lifestyle we want others to believe we live.

We live in a world where everyone has been marred, spoiled. Everyone stained by sin and there is nothing in this world that can remove sin from us but the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We cannot just put that on. It is a gift given to those who fully repent no matter the cost, flee secretive lives (for real when no one but God is around) and believe in God.

~

Rabbit trail writing happenin' here. . . somehow though each sentence connects for me.

I keep rethinking on something I wrote earlier because it's a huge thing I've lived through in many different elements of life: unity and uniformity. The teaching pastor at church brought this up Sunday and it was like I just got hung up on these words and couldn't let them go. 

These words apply to just about all relationships. For example --

Ever been with someone and felt united? Ever been in a relationship (or church or group or family) where unity was based on whether you conformed, became "uniformed" to what they believed or did? Unity was based not on being one in Christ, or united in the purpose of loving God and others, but united on everyone becoming and believing like one another? Uniformality? Is that a word? Maybe not, but it works. Maybe we get caught up in it without realizing too. . .

Thinking we are all unified, when in actuality it's just become about everyone thinking alike - uniformity.

It's typically what we tell our children NOT TO DO - "don't just be like everyone else. . ." Yet, as parents are we really living this one out for them? What do our lives, our relationships, our church or groups we join show our children?

Sometimes these words unity and uniformity are just plain mixed up, but shouldn't be. Someone may say they want unity but in reality they want uniformity. Think marriage, family life. Think parenting - do I want unity, or really am I just after uniformity in my children? To be, to act, to think like me.

Or say, a discussion with hubby - I think I want unity, one-ness - but I really just want uniformity, him to be like me, think like me, live like me!

Think kids. As a mom we cry unity! NO arguing! No debate. I'm right, they're wrong. But in reality we want them all to just wear "uniforms" and march to our drum beat, or ah, violin piece - whatever. Our way. Our belief system. This is not unity. This is uniformity-parenting. 

I've heard of couples who say they never "fight." Don't think unity here necessarily. Possible uniformity instead? Lack of individuality maybe? Control? 

We see this in churches, in families, in marriages. Tooting the word unity, but a lot of times just demanding uniformity. Maybe not demanding it? Just rejecting those who don't conform.

I've been real convicted about this lately. In my finger pointing at those who walk around in churches or homeschooling groupies or families where uniformity is key for acceptance or "christ-likeness". . . I've seen it in my own life on a regular basis. I am getting excited about this revelation and how it effects family and marriage life.

I picture a family with unity, instead of uniformity. I get this feeling uniformity isn't a good thing, just like I've always told my children, "Don't go with the flow." I get this feeling we can make ourselves think we are after unity in our marriage or family, church, whatever - but in actuality we just want uniformity because that's more comfortable and we can find pride in that. We can make ourselves believe we have unity - but only be united in the things, have uniformity in the areas, that really aren't eternal at all.

A. Ann

May Came. Went.

Summer has come and May has gone. This past month has been full, very full, so this post will be full too ~ created just little bit by little bit with hopes that it might see the other side of this blog eventually. Life has a way of leaving very few moments for a journal.

Shelton always looking for higher jumps. Lakelyn with quite the little face.

Seeds of all sorts out in nature. . .

One of my fav bugs to photograph - the dragonfly. I love all the different colors I've spotted this past month by the creek.

Running off to find good swimming holes.

Learning never stops. . . and it makes life better because of it.

Lake has discovered she can climb trees ALL BY HERSELF. She has no fear of going higher.

Shelton and Christian giving river goers quite a show the other day with their variety of flips from a root.

Robert and I on a swim on a date night.

Scott took this shot of some flowers on our hike. He enjoys taking nature pictures. Wonder where he got that from? ha.

Typical Lake look these days. She loves the outdoors like the rest so much.

Baby exploring. "Training" baby to love the earth. 

A rare sight of a white heron at the creek and my three May birthday babies all in one shot doing what they like to do.

The little things, the simple things - they are enjoyable when we don't replace it with fake, man-made fun all the time.

I love this shot of Morgan. It's like she saw the water as I was freezing it in my picture.

Oh - beautiful light! 

Always wandering the furthest away - becoming his own.

My little dragon fly so still.

My little girl - so not still. Crazy fun, FUN girl in this family! She is full of it!

Sweeeeeet heart.

~

Cleaning today on and off between all the other billions of things I do all day as a mom. So she can't crawl quite as fast I sweep, but almost. She thinks she wants the yuck I'm sweeping up. She wants to put everything in her mouth. It goes down in the record that she is the earliest baby in the fam to break a tooth through this soon - bottom left. I cannot tell if she is a right or left hand gal yet since she still uses both about equally - these pictures do show her left hand waving and the left hand in the mouth. Since I'm a lefty myself I'm all for that. She stands, she walks around with a hand holding onto the furniture and she prefers to be in my arms more than with anyone else. That mommy stage has come.

(Not quite old enough to help me with my pile of laundry I was working on, but she does a great job of distracting me with her cuteness.)

Baby watching a water balloon fight from the safety of the back door

~

Big snake killed in the drive the other afternoon. Not a good kind either. Shelton was walking up from school, head down, tired. He hears a hiss. He looks out of the corner of his eye to the left; coiled there waiting only a few feet from him. He jumped back, grabbed a big rock and killed it. I am grateful it was he who found it first. Lake would have never jumped back. She would have done something more like, "Here snake-y, snake-y."

Bub found a nest full of baby birds. It turned into quite an ordeal. We all watched them from a distance for a week or two. Bub kind of adopted them as his own since he was most interested and watched them so often. One night coming in late from somewhere he asked me to take a flashlight and go check on them in the nest. They were fledglings at this point and he was sure one or two had jumped from the nest. I came around the side of the tree where the nest was and shined my light only to shine directly on the head of a snake eating two of the little birds. Course that was not something I particularly found cool. In fact, I was outraged. Those were Bub's baby birds and I hate snakes like I hate satan! Of all the most horrible things to discover in the dark, truly. 

I ran, calling out for the boys - who I had no doubt would kill the snake a billion times over and find great joy in doing so. After a loud and crazy ordeal in which two baby birds were saved, a snake shot and chopped, and baby birds buried, Bub had two little birds on his hands to care for. . . or so we thought.

After a full day of him seriously catching insects and such around the clock and feeding the wee little birds, I called the nature center and discovered that it is complete MYTH that a mommy bird will abandon her eggs or baby birds if touched or moved by a human. I was told that the mommy bird is extremely loyal and will almost always return to carrying for her young. We replaced the two rescued birds in their nest and within 15 minutes the mommy bird was back feeding her babies and flying to and from the nest!

It's not been easy to keep Scott from playing ball even with broken arm and wrist. He is begging for a doctor clearing to get his physical for football. Not happening. He studied late into the night even the last week of school. I'm not sure what drives that kid, but he has so much diligence and determination at whatever he does. He aims high, he fights hard, he takes life with both hands and . . . the world pulls, the enemy wants, and he sees he is not invincible. I see him run to God. I pray that running to Him will remain and grow.

Three more weeks of cast left. He is working hard already with his summer job - saving every penny - as he says, "'Cause I got a car to buy in a few years."  Ah, yes, I'm sure it will come far sooner than I think.

Scott had plans to travel on a trip with my dad - but at the last minute is didn't work out. I watched him work through the disappointment, and finding acceptance of the new plans. I marveled at his maturity through it all. I think he trusted God more than me.

~

We had three wonderful birthdays to celebrate in May!(I will post the 2 girls another time.)

Three May babies because after the first four kiddos we finally seemed to get the hang of spacing the kids far enough apart to give me the slightest of breaks on emotions, body, and. . . well two years between them still doesn't feel like much, but I thought back then we'd come a long way to finally get a two year spacing!

My heart is too full to even know where to start with these younger ones. . . but this post I will start with Bub since his birthday comes first! These three kiddos that, well, if God had just let me have my own way, would never have been. Because once upon a time, four was a huge family and that was going to be it for us. Our May babies, by nickname, are Bub, Itty and Lake. We adore them.

Thank God for a certain wedding that got us all romantic-like and well, made us forget our "plans" of just having four kids - way back in the summer of 2004. 

Welcome Bub! He was due the end of April - yep, he was two weeks "late."

I remember when I found out I was expecting baby #5 - Shocked, holding pregnancy test in hand, remembering we'd just a month before sold our baby crib, stroller, and most of the boys clothing! I fell into my regular 6 months of death sickness in his pregnancy just like the rest. I had four little kiddos to take care of, three which were boys who had more energy and power than a regular locomotive and literally threw everything they got their hands on. Seriously, I asked Robert one day during that time, "Hon, were you like this? Did you have to try throwing everything you picked up?"

It was always, "Honey, can you please bring mommy such and such. . ." and before I could finish my sentence it would come flying through the air at me. Not in anger, just seemed to release from their hand in throwing motion! It wouldn't have been so bad but the boys were spot on quarter back style and I had more bruises during those days! If it was, "Hon, take this diaper to the trash for mommy please. . ." I had to always add, "And DO NOT throw it there, walk it there."

Funny, after years of reminders not to throw anything and everything to where it "belongs" - the throwing continues. I don't bother saying "Don't throw" anymore. . . unless it's the dishes.

Bub's arrival was as unexpected as his conception and Robert and I found ourselves in the scary position of delivering him ourselves, alone - after only a half hour of contractions that began abruptly. I was not transportable once I went into labor with intense contractions, pretty much no break between them. I had no warning, no gradual coming on. Just boom. He was there, on our stained concrete floors of our bedroom - a blanket thrown beneath his entrance just in perfect time. Robert was on the phone, being guided on what to do next. . . because Bub came not breathing.

We felt so alone. Yet, we were not and we knew we were not.

God answered "Yes" to my loud heavenward screams for our baby's life. Not because I was spiritual, or said the right things, or trusted, or deserved it. . . but because it was His plan for us, and His plan for Bub. The voice on the other end of the phone told Robert to check for the cord around his neck. Check. Yes, it was tight around Bub's neck. After unwrapping the cord from around his neck once, still no life. Yet, it was around again; another pull around. Pump to the chest, baby thrown upon my chest. A gasp, a cry. Not loud, kind of even weak, but life came. Breath. One of the longest near minutes of my life.

How grateful I was for the experience Robert had. Before Bub's birth, with my history of quick and sudden labors, he had studied up on what to do just in case.

(Since we have been renting I haven't felt much like settling in and truly decorating. This past month I found the container with all the framed pictures and canvases. I took a box of tacks and I just plastered them all to the wall in the living area in no order at all. It was fun and I'm glad I did it because the children have really liked seeing the pictures of when they were younger on the wall.

I said I would do anything possible to never have to live through that experience again. . . a hospital birth, induction was planned for Itty. What-do-ya-know. . . hospital room, doc doesn't show, speedy labor and Robert and I deliver our next baby alone IN THE HOSPITAL. All our plans to be so responsible and never be in a situation where we could birth a baby without proper care just in case. . .

But that May 14th of 2005, that warm night Bub came there were cries of happiness. A lot of thanksgiving being lifted up to God.

Help came. The night turned peaceful. He ate, slept, was full of health. Big near nine pounds, huge puppy dog eyes. Beautiful.

To this day, the boy likes to surprise me. He holds the family record for consecutive jump roping. His record, right here in our living room: 412 consecutive jumps with no mess ups or stops and at a consistent speed. Go ahead, try that. We wish we'd gotten it on video because wonder if it could be a world record for a six year old boy. It's a funny thing to see a little guy jump rope with an adult jump rope that many times so perfectly.

Oh, how grateful I am for him. He is uniquely different from his brothers, being surrounded by four girls.

Laid back, gentle. Thoughtful. Respectful. Happy. Quiet mostly, but has such a great laugh. Less competitive then the other boys. Obedient and easy to parent. Just loves life. I'd almost dare to say, though it's a close call with some, that he is my biggest of all nature and animal lover.

Yet, give that kid a football? He can run like the wind. This year in flag he plays wide receiver, quarter back, running back - you name it, his brothers have taught him all the positions and what to do. It's one of the benefits of being the youngest of four boys.

Course Bub is not his real name. I was out of boys names by the time he came along and so I left the naming up to Robert. Yep, totally up to him. So I will never forget the day Robert came in and told me what our little guy's name was going to be. It took a while to grow on me - but honestly I was just glad it wasn't something regular, normal - ya know, something that everyone else has. When Bub was born, he just looked like a Bub to me. He was like a bump on a log. Never cried, slept like a dream, ate like a champ, hung out at the river in his seat like it was part of the deal, and just looked cute.

But Robert gave him this great name that means something so awesome and I know that underneath the Bub that we are all in love with around here that is just calm and easy going, there is something really, really strong.

Caedman ~ means warrior.

Stanley ~ means rock, strength, firm.

The verses I feel the Lord has given me for him and that I pray for Caed:

"Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything to stand firm." (Eph. 6:10)

And one of my favs: "He only is my Rock and my Salvation; He is my Defense, my Fortress, I shall not be moved!" (Ps. 62:6)

Thirdly ~ "Fight the good fight of faith. Keep holding on to eternal life, to which you were called and about which you gave a good testimony in front of many witnesses." (2 Tim. 6:12)

Just something funny - on the movie, "Horton Hears a Who," at the end the little guy says to the elephant, "Dude, you are a warrior poet."

And I smile when I hear that line because it always makes me want to say that to Bub.

~

His birthday date with Robert and me ~ he wanted to try bowling; a first for him - had a strike on his last bowl. Seafood was his choice of food - a plate of crab and rice, cheesecake for dessert. A little race car track for his hot wheels was his choice of gift. He sat between us in the front of Robert's truck. His mop of blonde hair long this time of year, his big brown eyes more enthusiastic than usual. He doesn't show much emotion of any sort, but it's there inside and on his birthday we sure got to see more than usual. . . and it's just absolutely adorable.

He just smiled all day long. He was thrilled to be seven.

My baby boy couldn't possibly be that old. But yea. I guess I will always think that about him, and every child on their birthday. I love you, Bub. I am proud of you. You sure are doing a great job at taking care of Haven Baby since she came along in this family. She's "your girl # 4" and you are amazingly sweet and protective of her.

~

As usual, each birthday I try to get "birthday pictures" representing that year. I try to do it within the month from their birthday. For Bub, on a day I knew we would be heading out to his favorite place, I threw in a shirt, vest and a hat that was his great, great grandfather's fishing hat in my beach bag - and before he went diving in he gave me about 7 minutes of picture time. Here's what we captured in our short little shoot. I think it represents him very well at this age and his personality. I think he is completely adorable. I'm so glad moms can feel that way, eh?

He is by far the tallest boy out of our bunch by his 7th birthday. He has lost the baby look a lot this past year and looks more like a little man. He is peaceful, consistent, kind-hearted, and is a brave boy the way he hangs in our family being in the middle!

The rest of the afternoon he spent exploring the earth around him. He has an amazing ability to catch critters.

~

Memorial Day was in May too of course! We didn't take off work (the downside to running your own company) but we celebrated and took a time of thankfulness that evening together. The girls and I had great fun planning and preparing our meal and getting the food ready for the guys to grill. It was yum and a nice breezy evening on the deck.

~

For my side of the fam we do monthly birthday celebrations ~ I hosted May's since three of the four May birthday grandkids were mine. . .

Here are my deck decorators for our party that night:

~

Itty waiting for Robert to get home from work so we could go on her special birthday date! I will post the girls next post.

Life sure isn't slowing down. They are growing up so quick. Off to swim lessons now. Should be interesting since Lakelyn doesn't even like to get her hair washed. ha.

A. Ann

Rejoice in Hope.

The little girls sat sad on the step when they had to stay behind from going with their brothers to soccer practice. . .

But sadness didn't last long ~

"May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy..."

"Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer." Rom 12:12

"Behold, we consider those blessed who remained steadfast. You have heard of the steadfastness of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful." James 5:11

"I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

"Looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." Heb. 12:2

A. Ann

Motherhood.

Bub is my huge nature lover - we all are - but he is extra. He wants to be a vet when he grown up. He would be an awesome one.

The box floating pirate on the river. You would never know how hard this is to balance a box with his weight. 

The stick in his arms is the key he discovered to making it work.

Crazy hair boy - finding rocks to skip.

So can it work with two? not for very far. But they sure had fun trying over and over again!

A beauty.

The kids have gotten such a kick out of this picture of Shelton. They are sure he is a pirate.

Robert and Scott workin' out swimming. Robert is preparing for a big thing in the fall.

Ah, yes, she expressed my feeling exactly - so often.

beautiful.

Baby dear not sure - the water wasn't exactly really warm yet.

Ten's a crowd. 

There are two peacocks on my front porch. They are beautiful, but they leave bad messes on the deck. They are the neighbor's, but I think they think they live here. I'm not sure why they come back because one of my sons chases them around like crazy. Maybe they like chase. I know my son does. 

This morning is overcast and beautiful across our "mountains." It's damp, very unlike usual. I've been up since dark, getting boys off to school. Looking high and low with half closed eyes for school assignments that shouldn't be lost. Filling out football forms for next year in my half-sleep, making lunches I'm not sure of what. I think I bagged strawberries, bagels, cereal, crackers, all sorts of odd things from the frig. One of the first things out of my mouth this morning was, "Hon, did I sleep through the night???"

I had. I really had. It's a first in I don't know HOW LONG. Amazing.

Lake is always up bright and early. Typically before the sun shows bright she is already dressed in tap shoes, tights, and some sort of whatever. She is aways ready for a dance. Imagine living life that way - all the way through. Always ready to dance away through the day.

We've had what has seemed like weeks of sickness and I'm not sure we are really through yet. Grace has been abounding. I can't believe we are finally seeing the break of day, light at the end of the tunnel, wellness coming to live here again. Doesn't it make you so grateful for well times when you've been sick? This past week I thought about those I know who live life in pain. I had pain that wouldn't go away, my head pounded daily - but life had to be lived, must be carried out - and with joy and enthusiasm. I can't get down times during this phase. Bad moods can't happen. They are too wide affecting. Too damaging to too many little ones.

Course they do happen. And when they do, I am reminded how much I am in need of God. There isn't a moment I don't need Him to carry me, fill me, consume me. For my sake, for my family's sake.

~

I've had the computer unplugged, the car has been broken down and life has seemed slower and good. It's good when it's plugged in and car runs too, but it's differently paced.

There aren't many days of school left for older boys. I can't wait to have them home for the summer, or well, I suppose they will be home more at least. I've sure missed them, though it's been good. Very good. They talk of plans to find summer jobs, always wanting to earn money, stay busy. Christian less so - he is more content to read the summer away. He likes using his brain more than his braun compared to the others. He had a goal of reading a million words from February until April, and he did it. He keeps track of stuff like that. Falling asleep nearly every night - book in hand.

My parenting skills have been put to the test more than ever before with Lake as toddler age. So cool how different kids are from each other. She is a powerhouse. . . for lack of a better word this morning. She is determined (better word than stubborn my mom always use to say!) and she is independent, major so. She is fearful of nothing. She does things I've had no child do, energy none have surpassed, and expressions that are hilarious. She is the comedian around here (along with a few others of lesser intensity) and has me constantly wondering what to do, say, respond, etc.

She is presently outside in dance get-up yelling at peacocks who are perched on the roof, "You get down here you peacock or I will shoot you in the leg!" She speaks very articulate and adult like. Never baby talk. Big words, clear as a bell.

Brighton sits quietly at my side, carefully sketching trains and coloring them in the lines as if she will be graded. She says sorry if she even remotely does something "wrong." She looks wide eyed at Lakelyn's actions, words, faces.

The two make quite a pair. I go from one to the other. I love them equally so hard, so full. Yet they pull at me so differently, they both yearn for my affections, my affirmation and go about it so completely opposite. Both born braving the entry to a large family where fitting it doesn't come as easy as normal families. I tell myself they will be strong because of it. . . or rather, they have that direction as an option. Robert and I have a whole lot to do with what comes of how they survive being some of the last babies of a this crew. I remind myself what I had the energy to do and did with my first kids. I hope I have learned more since then. I hope I can continue to pour out for them. I commit to. I promise to. I strive too.

Amazing how it feels inside to have your heart stretched to such lengths. I never thought my heart could hold so much. I wonder if it can at times. God is big. Large. His love is large. He can use me. He can have me, to love them all, all my days. God isn't just some idea that I fancy will help my head think I can do this mom thing with eight. He's not a good word. He's not something I attach to some list of rules or issued based life-style to earn His love and acceptance. He's not something my parents brainwashed me to believe, say a prayer to and think heaven would be my home when I die.

He is real. He has changed my heart from wanting darkness, to longing to live loving others more than myself. Only He can do that. I tried on my own for the first 15 years of my life. Frustratingly impossible. Without God, selfishness reigns, though at times dressed up to look like "love" or even "godly." 

~

It's softly raining now. The peacocks are loud on the roof, Lake would still be standing out there, taking in the rain, yelling about killing them. But I do have limits, as much as I encourage adventure and exploration around here. :) I will not let them go near to harming those birds. I imagine having their feathers though at times. . . for crafts.

Course we all know Mothers' Day happened. Robert and the kids gave me jewelry. I love jewelry. They are beautiful pieces. Even more, and special, they blessed me with love, respect, honor. Hugs, kisses, appreciation. I am a grateful heart. I don't deserve their love. I don't demand their love. I marvel at times that they give it. I have failed, I have fallen. By God's grace alone have I risen again after each time. By His grace alone I say, "I'm sorry." And "I was wrong, forgive me."

In those words I have found bridges instead of walls. I will have to say them my whole life long. I want to mean them because they will know if I really do mean them, or don't. They will know if I am too proud to love them right. It will affect the way they view God. How they view christianity. 

I'm one of them, a kid growing up. Not arrived.

I went from childhood to marriage with no stop in between and my twenties were spent wandering, questioning, fighting, finding Him while birthing children and finding out what it meant to be married and not just love myself, all the while thinking I knew how to love unselfishly. His mercy though has carried me on. I reach out to them with what I've been given by God, and by others. I see God come in the gap when I am not enough and don't have what it takes to be a godly mom. I see my stumbles, I see my frustration that surfaces and boils over. I see my tiredness debilitating at times. I wonder if I am fit to be a mom, I wonder if I will wound them. I wonder if when they are adults they will look back and think, "Well, I don't want to do that. . ."

And they will. Because don't we all, over one thing or another because none of us had perfect parents. I praise God mine never claimed to be because it makes for a good relationship! Because our parents were like us - learning, not arrived and didn't know. I'm grateful for parents who acknowledge they journey along with me. I glean from them because of their humility. I look up to them so much in this season of my life because they have been willing to walk with me, beside me, and yet give out grace and knowledge that God has given them in a way that is loving and humble. 

My mom has always been so down to earth and real to me. I love this about her. I never saw her parade around differently outside the home then who she was on the inside.

When I was young she walked that season along side me, leading me, teaching me, learning with me. Now, this season that I am an adult woman, she has moved into this season with me - not mom-ing me like when I was a child because that season has changed. But being a mom for the season, this adult season. She has encouraged me like pretty much no other. She walks with me. Mostly, through prayer. But also through her listening ear. Through her wisdom. Through her acceptance. Through her serving me along the way.

I am forever grateful. Her heart has been large for me. More than I will ever even know. . . but maybe someday I will know, when I am in her season and have adult daughters.

I love her for not putting herself in the forefront, for being the one behind the scenes through the years. She was strength behind my dad that people probably never knew. She has been an example to me of a true christian. Not because of all that she said, or preached, or tried to portray. But because of her authenticity that radiated to me by her willingness to be a student of the Bible, to be a seeker. A woman saved by grace, loved by God, longing for Him, seeking Him, learning to trust Him - and walking with me as I have come along side her wanting the same, seeking the same, learning the same.

I want to be that to my children. Not sure how, but I know my mom didn't know how either. 

So God must be big. Good. Redemptive. Powerful. And have wonderful attributes of what a mother's heart is suppose to be. . . and when we are in relationship with Him, real relationship ~ leaning, humble relationship - He pours through us in our weakness, and produces the fruit that gives Him all the glory.

A. Ann

Only Black and White.

The other day, just for fun, I set my Canon 7D on monochrome. I only took pics in black and white that day. (Yes, I see Itty changed her outfit at least three times AT LEAST.)

I set all the photos manually. I had no editing to do whatsoever. Twas extremely little time to capture photos I truly cherish. You can do this.

Think simplicity. Think natural light. Think little details. Just freeze the moments you don't want to forget.

It's fun adding a little slice of creativity a second here (a snap there) to a regular work day.

shutter 1/60, apert. f/2.5, ISO 1250, expos. +1.7ev.

ISO 500, shutter 1/80, apert. f/2.8, expos. +1.7ev

ISO 500, expos. +1.7 ev, apert. f/2.5, shutter 1/60 both of these

ISO 800, expos. +1.0ev, shutter 1/125, apert. f/5

ISO 640, shutter 1/60, apert. f/2.8, expos. +1.7 ev.

ISO 800, expos. +1.0 ev. shutter 1/2000, apert. f/5

ISO 500, shutter 1/80, apert. f/2.8, expos. +1.7 ev  Serious coloring book girl.

Yes, a 7th born child can sleep ANYWHERE. She will often go outside and set up for her nap and sleep away.

ISO 640, apert. f/5, shutter 1/250, expos. +1.7 ev

I love black and white.

A. Ann