i don't hear the ducks whining

i meant to finish this post a few weeks ago but i think it applies to my life even more so now.  ;)

-----------------------------

it has been cold. like bitter, frozen, unpleasant cold for some months. and it has taken it's toll on the general morale around here.

this morning was one said cold morning & i was miserable. the kids all slipped on their way to the van. and our snowman had a smug little grimmace on his icy face. even our happy-go-lucky dogs had had enough, lifting their little paws to avoid being frozen to the ground forever. everyone was miserable. the people walking to work, the cashier behind the checkout, the nurses at the doctors. the city seemed like just one big cluster of miserable.

i actually caught myself on several occasions throwing a huge livi-style temper tantrums threatening to leave this darn country if this stupid weather doesn't let up! i'm not really sure who exactly i was threatening. i may have started to go a touch of crazy... but i was in good company as everyone grumbled along through the long cold days & nights. ;) i might have even panickedly entertained the thought but what if this is the year that spring actually never arrives!

and then i saw a great cluster of ducks out on the frozen river, all huddled together. and i thought, from my warm van, i don't hear the ducks whining.

and i wondered how much my general attitude/unhappiness at life's "uncertainties" is due to the fact that i didn't chose it or i don't have control over it . and thus, how much control is actually a luxury.

our house has been for sale for what feels like forever. with like 20+ different open houses & showing, i have been severely lacking in gratitude. i constantly complain. about the house & the amount of work required. about what i can't control.

the third world doesn't have such luxuries. the luxuries of complaining about circumstances. because in

the third world they are more concerned with surviving. and surviving doesn't work if you catch yourself a bad attitude along the way.  i've seen many a person survive an awful set of circumstances but never recover from the terrible attitude & thought life they contracted amidst the terrible circumstances. and then i've watched that attitude infect everything they do & live & are for the rest of their lives.

the ducks don't complain because they know regardless of how they feel about it they are still going to endure the cold. so they stop fighting what they cannot control & chose to make something out of it. i may be giving the ducks too much credit. but i just felt the Lord highlight my general attitude through those frozen, huddling ducks all sticking together & working their circumstance out.

it's like when i have to ask my kids to do something not so pleasant like clean up the colossal sized mess they've been building in the basement. there are usually a few that throw themselves down on the ground in screaming protest or pretend they are experiencing paralysis in one or all of their limbs. but then there is usually one who just tromps off like a champ & gets on with it, un-phased by the size of the task. the kid who completely crumbles into a thousand pieces makes the task a hundred times more difficult for themselves in every way. despite their wiggling & jiggling all over the floor, they still are going to have to do what is asked. the kid who just takes on the task joyfully, well lets not go that far, just decides to get 'er done, quickly realizes the task is within their ability to accomplish & is finished in a fraction of time seeing instant progress. the others generally find themselves entirely overwhelmed by just the anticipation of the work & cannot get past their down-in-the-dumps attitude until disciplinary intervention is initiated.

i don't want to be the kid that sits there completely overwhelmed by the idea of my work, dwelling on the whole discouragement of the situation, tallying up what is too much for me. it's time for me to adjust to the new work load the Lord has given me, regardless of how much i don't like it initially. to be quite honest, my biggest challenge isn't the amount of work ahead of me but rather my own summations of how hard or impossible the work is.  because in the end, there are some real consequences if i get myself into an overwhelmed place allowing myself to wallow around in my own self-made misery. and so i stop telling myself self-pity stories, take the words 'i can't' out of my vocabulary & just get on with it. and i will eventually see progress. and in the midst of it, with the finish line still far away, the Lord has always afforded me coping tactics & grace to cover the super intense moments. they still ain't feel good moments but they're moment that i make it through to the other side with an awareness of the difference between God-strength & human strength.

 and so all that to say, God bless those huddling, coping ducks. for they too will make it spring.

p.s. rachel jankovic has been a real mentor to me in all this mothering crazy stuff. her books have been irreplaceable graces to my life. checkout 'loving the little years' or 'fit to burst' for some of the greatest mothering wisdom i have ever had the privilege of being exposed to.

mining miracles

the ultrasound pic of the pocket of fluid on
her spine

 i don't think i'll ever get tired of talking about it even if people get tired of hearing it... God is so good.
always has been, always is, & always will be. good in a way we don't quite have the capacity to break it down in our own framework. good in it's purest sense.

i found a notebook yesterday buried in the bottom of an old handbag. only one page written on, front & back in black pen. an address & directions to the genetic counselling department at CHEO. questions for the genetics councillor. questions we didn't have the answers to at the time.

... should we terminate the pregnancy? what does it mean to terminate a pregnancy? will we get to see our baby or hold it after birth, even if it's passed? did we do this? are we at fault for the baby being sick? what caused this?

a torrent of soul contracting torment written out on a page, written out in black trembling ink. i can remember not wanting anyone to see that page. awful, horrible questions written in it, that i thought.

i remember our genetics councilor. she was so kind. so calm. claire goldsmith was her name. and that is what she was, a goldsmith. someone who took meaningless, scary rubble & gave it value & meaning. she took the rugged, sharp truth & made it livable. but i also remember leaving that appointment & still not having the answer to the one question that we needed. we still didn't know what to do. and i remember crying out to God & saying please don't make me choose.

the day we got the good news, i ripped
the other test results in front of the body &
handed them out to people who needed healing

but i did find a sort of answer afterall. i found it by praising Him from the broken place, from the exhausted place, from the terrified & scared place. some answers we can only find worshipping from uncomfortable places. i have never felt such tourment suddenly stilled by such Peace before. and that is where i learned that the key to peace being spending time Peace himself.

i want to completely embrace what it means to live in the reality of a miracle. never taken for granted. to truly treasure it & mine it of all it's delicious wealth.not even with this babe's strong-willed temperament. i can remember thinking to myself that i will never complain again about those late night feedings & poopy diapers because i would do just about anything to get to hold her. that she would live & i would get to watch her sleep. and this is the privilege that i have, to watch her sleep each night all peaceful & perfect in her bed. this is God's kindness that i get to revel in.

to this day every time i see a downs syndrome child in the grocery store or out and about, my eyes well up with tears. for both happy & sad & complicated reasons. but mostly thankful reasons. inexpressible thanks that i get to mine this miracle for the rest of my life.

jax

jaxon

meet our newest addition to the family, jaxon!

i know what you're thinking... as if there wasn't enough poop to shovel around here... or what about whiskey, your last stinky smelly dog that drove you nuts?!

but here's the thing... i really love him!

he's the perfect amount of kookie crazy that fits in just right with our own kookie craziness. he's the perfect amount of broadway entertainment & slap stick humour. he's got the agility of an olympic athlete & the wit of sherlock holmes, the playfulness of a pup but the hunting instincts of a killer.

i just love him.

i'm not saying his kookie craziness isn't going to get too kookie & drive me mad or his slap stick silliness isn't going to one day get old. that the poop piles & the holes in the backyard aren't going to become an unpleasant & at times overwhelming task.

i'm just saying that we love him.

and that makes all the difference.

fun facts about jax: 
he is a 3 year old german shorthaired pointer.
we got him for free off of kijiji {gotta love that kijiji! we were researching getting a gsp for once livi was potty trained but after seeing him for free, we just had to take a look! we saw the ad at 4pm & he was ours by 6pm! needless to say we're still in a little bit of shock.}
he is davith's "bestest best friend in the whole wide world" & the kid's constant source of entertainment.
his favourite things are coffee, blankies, socks, cuddling lap dog style & leaves.
he's a great workout buddy...my entire body has not been this sore in quite some time.
he can jump the kids like they're hurdles & completely clear them {my heart stops every time!}
he doesn't smell... like at all, unless he is wet & has very minimal shedding {this is perhaps my favourite thing about him}.
steve's planning to hunt him this summer & i am planning on teaching him to scoop his own poop, carry a diaper bag & find my keys/cellphone {just kidding about the scooping his own poop}!

we love pets, especially when they become a part of the family & not the centre of the universe. we hope that with a little tlc, jax will be the perfect addition to the family!
welcome to the wilkins' jaxon!

pointing at our friend, lester the bunny

we have to be careful what we watch on tv now...
he has a very sensitive constitution.

davith's "jack"

he has brought back some bad memories of e.t.

his favourite place in the house... even if it's naughty.

gifts & their wrapping

some gifts you have to wait to be a mom to fully appreciate. as a mother of four smalls i have been given a great variety of 'thoughtful' gifts. scraps of scribbled paper. makeshift necklaces. lint. a half licked frozen yogurt. soggy crackers. dirty kleenexes. dandelions. crazy creations. frogs & worms. it doesn't matter if it wriggles, if it smells or smudges my shirt. it's the big heart that gave it that makes it a gift.

if you were anything but a mom, you may miss the preciousness of their small offerings.  maybe it's because of their unique wrapping. spiders wrapped in excitedly cupped hands. treasured rocks wrapped in tiny muddy palms. three tiny soldiers proudly wrapped in a pair of socks.  the wrapping is sometimes the best part.

"i don't know what's in the box, but i love it. unopened gifts contain hope." 

{jarod kintz, this book's title is invisible}

i love opening gifts. no matter how small, no matter how ordinary, no matter what the wrapping paper.

some gifts can come with a slight odor

someone spent his whole nap time
wrapping these gifts:
three toy soldiers & their "shooters"

saved or squandered?

i don't remember what we were talking about.  was i complaining?  disgruntled about being tired or overworked maybe?  or were we inventorying the past month, taking account of our dreams for the future in our usual fashion on long, winding car rides? i don't remember what we were talking about before that silver car was headed straight for us, before the screaming of tires shredding, before we almost lost it all. 

it was like slow motion.  the spinning.  the jerking.  the fight to regain control.  i turn to look at my children's faces as the van leaps over rocks like they were hurdles.  their faces so innocent.  so pure.  so unaware.  i reach my hand to stead livi's car seat from bouncing to high.
"it's ok babies! it's ok, it's ok... oh, Jesus!" i shout as we finally land in a pile of dust & rubble... heart pounding in my chest, eyes wide open as i watch the car who had so obediently been following us down these country roads now careens towards ours, engulfed in flame.

"oh, Jesus...keep going! keep going!" wheels turn in helpless gravel & the van lurches forward to safety.  the flaming car soon bottomed out in the ditch, coming to it's final resting place.

seat belts unbuckled in a frenzy.  adrenaline coursing through the veins, we run to help passengers out of the burning vehicle.  wildfire catches quickly to bush & dry grass.  flames lick my shoes as we toss luggage & shredded easter weekend plans from burning metal.

"it's not worth it!"  steve shouts to me, shouts to our unfortunate fellow travelers.  "back away! back away!"  i run back to the children a few feet away, still strapped in their seats watching their dvd like nothing had happened.  livi was screaming now.  tears hot on cheeks as i unstrap her from her seat and bring her to the front seat with me.  i rock & rock her.  i feed her & rock her some more.
"thank-you Jesus.  thank-you Jesus.  it's ok. thank-you Jesus."  i whisper over & over, kissing the top of her head.
"mom, can i see the fire?" davith asks, eyes still on the dvd screen.
"no son.  just be thankful.  so thankful.  thank-you Jesus."

soon the sound of sirens soothe the scene.  the highway is blocked off as they spray & foam & fiddle with charred metal. three toddlers wiggle & lean hard against their restraints.  i put a still unsettled baby back in her seat & unstrap the others.  i let them play in the ditch with stones & sticks while the babies each take their turn getting their poopy bums changed.  i can't find the wipes so it is an interesting undertaking, changing three squirmy, screaming babies on a seat the size of a dinner plate while the others play in a ditch full of broken glass.  it's been over an hour now.  a friend on his way to peterborough climbs out of his car and runs down long lines of impatient cars to come to my aid.  what are the odds? he watches the other two, while i put in livi's soother & simultaneously wrestle another toddler into clean jammies.  soon traffic begins to flow again.  slow.  our friend returns to his travels & we wait for steve.  he finally appears through the smoke.  davith darts past my grasp & runs to his daddy, only a few feet from the wreckage & oncoming traffic.  my heart leaps.  steve scoops him up & carries him back to the van unharmed.  it is way past bedtime & i am one nerve away from crazy now.  the fire & the frazzle all getting to me.  four children on the side of the dusty, dirty, scary road.
"is that it?! jeepers!" i huff in distemper.
"yup." he says patiently. " i gave my statement & the officer said we could go now....  he said the last couple of these he's been to there hasn't been anyone to take statements from & to be thankful."
   
my heart lurches with guilt as we all buckle back into the van.  had i forgotten that fast what i had just been saved from?  saved from months in the hospital.  years of recovery, if even given the chance.  an inch or two away from loosing our future, loosing it all.  how could i squander it on grumbling, on frazzle, on ingratitude? my life is worth more than that.  oh, what i have been given.  given extravagant gifts wrapped up in peculiar packaging.  but beautiful gifts none the less.    

thank you Lord.  thank you for screaming babies, for dust & dirt, for poopy diapers & no wipes, for our space scarce van, for cranky, rambunctious toddlers, sore necks, for tired eyes & soothers that keep falling out.  thank-you Lord for life. thank you for it all.  

the burnout remedy

"and now, dear brothers & sisters, one final thing.  fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable.  think about things that are excellent & worthy of praise."

{phil 4:8}

i give thanks & fresh wind blows on smoldering soot.  i give thanks & the embers begin to crackle. i give thanks & flames leap to faith.  i give thanks & i am bright & burning & bold again.  hot with passion, brimming with light.  the darkness devoured.  i am fully satisfied here.  here in the place of thanks, a feast for the famished.  fat with favour.

709. walter meets willemena
710. beholding & beloving the broken
711. porch side chats in spring air
712. glistening, sparkling hope
713. a light that never dims
714. boys & the sounds they find funny
715. holding littleness, helpless babe
716. forgiving sand
717. slip socks
718. watching a field being deeply culled  
719. a homemade egg & cheddar sandwich
720. remembering

christmas' are for counting

christmas' are for snow curled mops of hair, rosey noses & icy eyelashes. for friend & family all huddled round the puzzle table, a good game & bowl of nuts. for chocolate indulgences & fireplace fancies.  for the gasps, the giggles, the grins, crackle of christmas paper shredded by uncontainable excitement.  for matchbox cars, clementines & brightly coloured socks.   for decedent meals, turkey laced with cranberry, sweet potato stuffing & rum raisin pie, shared between kindred spirits.  for soul restoring hibernation, snug amungst the twisted blankets & billowy pillows.  for memory making, memory staking, memories relived & reinvented.  for story telling, tale spinning under the silvery cold moon.  for little linus' proclamation, for the grinch & his heart now three sizes grown, for drummer boys & wise men gathered under a star.   for pear trees & partridges.  for chimney smoke, roasted pine & maple embers, candles dripping long with ambience. for snow weighed branches bowed low in reverence of the winter wonderland bestowed upon their laden limbs. for long fireside chats, dreams all a glow. for sleigh rides & parkas fringed with fur.  for wet mittens, woolen hats & drippy floors.  for movie popcorn popping nights, snug as a bug in a rug nights, laughter lighting, soul inspiring, long winter nights.  for burrowing deep in books & ideas & companionship. for grizzled soul now rendered tender.  for window watching, snow snug hills & footprint setting.


christmas' are a noisy yet quieting place, a dreaming yet sobering place, a rushful yet restful place.

oh yes, i have received many gifts this christmas.  some of them wrapped in boxes & bags, perfect packages. some enveloped in warmth & seasonal colour. others wrapped in blankety snow & chill. but all wrapped in love.  from a father to a daughter.

thank you Lord Jesus.  for how you love me so.

the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

yesterday was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  nothing went as planned.  no sleep, no latte, no internet, yogurt, yogurt everywhere, diapers, grumpy boy, granola, granola everywhere, timeout, gym, hard, sweaty gym, groceries, loooong lines, full grocery cart, no bank card, trail three hysterical toddlers through loblaws into the rain sans groceries, brother pushes sister into stair, nose bleed, timeout, screaming, poop, crying, babies "nap", starving infant trumps starving mummy, fussy infant trumps exhausted mummy, babies wake, mess, mess everywhere, grumpy toddlers, bath, poop, bedtime, five minutes later bedtime for mummy & repeat allll over again. sigh.  this is my life.

i am tired.  i am dirty & i am still latte-less! but today was better.  not better as in the events were different. just substitute the nose-bleed for a toddler falling down the stairs & trailing three hysterical toddlers through loblaws for dragged three hysterical toddlers & an infant seat through a school hallway after the recess bell has rung.  fun to say the least.  every day is painfully the same & yet vastly different at the same time.

i realize, upon reflection, that the key to a great day lies wholly in my perspective & attitude.  i cried my way through yesterday but laughed my way through today.  a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day can only happen if i have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad attitude. and those darn attitudes are sneaky.  just when i've really changed, i have yelled for the last time, that stinkin' attitude jumps out from behind a sabotaged nap time or a diaper change gone all wrong.  they creep up on you when you are least guarded, unexpectantly.  it's never when i have my fully highlighted & underlined parenting manifesto under my arm. no. only when the tank is dry, stomach empty, reserves depleted & my mind, outraged, reasons 'no person on earth should ever be expected to endure all this! go ahead & sulk. it's only natural in such circumstance.' but no.  i made a choice a long time ago to not become a victim of my day.  it's when i'm the weakest, i need to be the strongest.  it's like what they say about weight lifting.  just when you feel you've reached your max, you can't do anymore, that's when you do two more repetitions.  and that is how you build muscle.  in the two more that you thought you couldn't do, that were well past your capacity, that we grow.  we become the strongest we've ever been.  i'm not saying it's pleasant or painless, just necessary.

my day did not just happen to me, i happened to it.  i'm steering this ship.  no toddler of mine is going to steer it for me.  i choose how today is going to be experienced with all of it's poopy, messy challenges.  so cheers to today! a wonderfully loud & complicated mess that i am choosing to enjoy anyways! choosing to be thankful for laundry strewn everywhere, an empty underwear drawer, teething toddlers and all. i am thankful i have arms to fold crumpled laundry.  thankful that i have access to teething salts & tylenol. thankful for a broom to sweep & a cloth to clean.  the hard eucharisteo.

because the path is long... {the big sin & little humanities}

the rustic outback. i slinging a pack on my back & orient my course for the incredible adventure laid out before me.  carefully choosing my step, navigating over brook & rock, tree root & branch.  a gentle climb quickly becomes a steep strain.  as the incline begins to intensify, i trip on pebbles & rock & knee is bloodied.  i stoop to pick up the offending stones & load them in my pack, as to not forget how they wronged, how they hurt. i slow as the pack heavies. more wounding, more rocks to add to the growing collection of contempt.    exhaustion pulses through tired muscles.  the mind grows more determined. i can still do this.  i can reach the top & carry this, i say to myself.  a wearied back twinges.  i am crawling, clawing to continue.  but i cannot.  the weight crushing.  a wounding so deep, yet so self righteous, i trade the mountain top for a pile of pebbles. 

the moral to the story is to liberate the rocks & pebbles... the journey is too long & too important to carry them with you.  little offenses, hard feelings, annoyances add to weigh more than boulders sometimes.  it's not the BIG sin, the BIG boulders that one is unware of the need for forgiveness but the tiny pebble you pick up in your shoe that goes seemingly unnoticed.  pebbles so easily dislodged & yet i pick it up & put it in my pack.  my pack, a record of the wrong, full of aspiring martyrdom, better left light, for the path unfolds long under the feet.  pebbles & rocks are nothing but little humanities & yet often rob us of our lifeblood.  why is it that the most offending of offenses is just humans being human? they are just mere personality quirks, the way different individuals are wired. everyone who is human will let you down from time to time.  anyone under the expectation of perfection will fail. why does this never cease to surprise? why are we always in pursuit of the perfect relationship illusion?  it is myth, a fleeting fog.  it isn't always the big sin that crushes, but the unforeseen disappointment that pounces when least expected.  and the only thing that heals is the pursuit of the only One who is Perfect, who never disappoints.  

i wonder how many times i have inadvertently been the pebble in someone else's shoe? grace is poured out with ease when i realize i am one in the same as my offenders.  how self-righteous to think i had never been in need of divine grace.  the grace i have been afforded, is something to be ever thankful for, something to bring perspective, to be paid forward.
 
the key is in expectation. in the state of the heart.  in the thanking for what is good, even in difficulty, that we dislodge those pebbles & rocks, shake them from our shoulders & push forward toward the top.  the journey is too long & necessary to sacrifice it for a pile of useless rocks, forfeiting the promise land for so futile & unworthy of a cause.  

time is life

being in a hurry. getting to the next thing without fully entering the thing in front of me.  i cannot think of a single advantage i've ever gained from being in a hurry.   but a thousand broken & missed things, tens of thousands, lie in the wake of all rushing... through all the haste i thought i was making up time.  it turns out i was throwing it away. 
{mark buchanan: the rest of God}

time is life.  life a vapor.  minutes evaporate into seconds.  seconds vanish, lost to forever, preserved only by memory, changed only by perception.  hurry robs a life, empties the soul.  hurry wastes moments, wastes minutes, wastes a life.  and if i want the fullest life, i need the fullest time.

we are merely moving shadows, and all out busy rushing ends in nothing. {psalm 39:6}

hurry ends in nothing.  ends in thievery. how much have i missed only because i hadn't been looking, hadn't opened my eyes to see, my arms to embrace?  only feet to race.  how much of life have i robbed by my own hands, my own drive for more, for perfect, for tomorrow?  

whatever the pace, time will keep it and there's no outrunning it, only speeding up and pounding the feet harder; the minutes pound faster too.  race for more and you'll snag on time & leak empty.  the longer i keep running, the longer the gash, and i drain, bleed away. 

{ann voskamp: one thousand gifts}

and i grieve.  a life so full it is empty, void of any real life.  a life lost to hurry.  a life broken by needless rush... almost.  can it be redeemed?  will the Timekeeper let me learn the secret?  learn how to keep time.  learn how to enjoy, to embrace all the moments between now & forever.  keep every second in perfect time, weighed down, slowed down by my presence, my full attention.  even the hard moments, the loud moments, the dirty, grungy, tedious moments? 

this is where God is found.  in the moment.  God framed in the beauty of a budding tree, in the fresh folded laundry, in the glorious stretch of a muscle worked hard, in the glow of little cheeks all rosy with glee. yes, even in crumb covered socks, in the baby crying in the night, in the smudged windows & sorely teethed little gums, with eyes heavy with exhaustion & soul bruised.  yes, even there, i can find Him.  

the secret is in the thanking.  in the counting of the moments.  in the tasting, the savoring of time.  all the time He has given me.  

i redeem time from neglect & apathy & inattentiveness when i swell with thanks & weigh the moment down & it's giving thanks to God for this moment that multiplies the moments, time made enough.  i am thank-full.  i am time-full. 
{ann voskamp: one thousand gifts}

and so it is time.  time to see, time to breath deep & embrace.  no more hurry.  no more haste.  no emptying.  just living, gaining, giving, spending time... giving it back to the Timekeeper.

#433: flossing

#434: floor covered in wooden blocks

#435: ribbons, bold & bright

#436: pulling the curtains at days end

#437: an empty muffin jar

#438: running shoes

#439: the capability to learn

for the joy set before me

lessons in the losses #5: fear is a just a doorway

davith is a two-year old.  and as most two-year olds, he is going through a fear stage.  i had long prepared myself for the discussion on monsters, goblins & ghosts.  however, davith has no interest in any of those seemingly classic, respectable childhood fears.  i realized this whilst almost breaking my leg flying down the stairs after hearing davith scream like he was being burnt alive... only to find out that he found a ball of fluff on the stair which he apparently found terrifying.  we had that long talk about situations deemed scream worthy. be assured finding fluff on the stairs was not one of them.  this was followed by subsequent conversations about the threat feathers, ants, toe lint & cute, fluffy little yellow chicks pose.  

i had an embarassingly simple revelation on the tail of those conversations as i found myself jumping from the doorframe of our bedroom to our bed to avoid being snatched by ET.  and i thought to myself, who is being the irrational one?  at least dust bunnies & lint actually exist in reality.  can't say the same for pruney, bony fingered, sack of skin ET.  i have just always been afraid of him.  it doesn't matter what i tell myself, still afraid, how i try to rationalize it... fear still surfaces.

i now find myself in a dimly lit hospital room, facing much more realistic or shall i say appropriate fears as the stark realization dawns on me that this child will need to make it's way into the world somehow.  after all of the uncertainty of this pregnancy, will i ever get to hold her? when will i get to hear that blessed cry? will i die?  will i rip in two? will i make it to the other side? "...but i'm not ready!"  i scream inside.   as i walk the corridors, the halls are filled with noise.  and i come to the conclusion that there isn't a more terrifying place on earth than being in the labour & delivery ward not yet in labour but about to be.  babies crying, women screaming, nurses chattering, meal carts clammer, sneakers squeak.  but only one question echos - must I drink this cup?

death & resurrection... the hope of joy set before Him.
just when you think you can endure no more, just when you've bolstered your last ounce of will, pushed with everything you've got, breathed your last, resurrection comes. new life. hope.  the kind that cannot be taken away by trouble, circumstances, not even death. for nothing is lost in Him. in Him i live & move & have my being. with Him i entrust my life.  fear cannot defeat me, will not consume me.

fear is nothing to be afraid of - it's just the door we push through to get to the other side.

and we never have to be ready - only willing.

and on the other side of that door?

one waits who knows what it's like to face a cross.  He took the worst of it for us.  And only He can speak to our hearts the only words we really need to hear...

that's what makes it all worth it. the fear.  the offering up of ourselves.

and i believe He says those well done words to each of us made brave in Jesus.

- ann voskamp, the holy experience

 we are all afraid of something, whether it be dust bunnies or ET, sickness or strife, irrational or legitimate.  open the door anyway & face fear head on... hand in hand with the Saviour, as He walks us to the other side called the resurrection life.

Jesus make me brave in you. help me drink deep of this cup & bravely endure so that i too might hold the joy on the other side.

because the work is done {labour day reflections}

forgiven much.

nail pierced grace will never let you go & christianity is a lifetime of becoming who you really are.
~ ann voskamp

"but my life is worth nothing to me unless i use it for finishing the work assigned me by the Lord Jesus - the work of telling others the Good News about the wonderful grace of God."
~ acts 20:24

gifts & their givers

today is my birthday, my natal anniversary, the day of my nativity, the marker of my 27th year of life.  and through those 27 years of life, i have received many gifts.  some fabulous, some tacky, some touching, some odd, some perfect, some embarrassing, some hilarious.  but no matter what the gift, the giver has always had the sincerest intentions.

growing up in a family of slightly dramatic characters, any gift, no matter how small or seemingly miniscule, always incited some type of spectacular theatrical reaction. christmas morning was quite the production, littered with deep gasps & chest clutches, shrieks & squeals of delight, the gaping jaw & eye bulge & eventually the touching silent single tear of thanks.  in each gift recipients reaction, was the intent of pleasing the gift giver by showing them their delight.  and the gift giver, of course, could not possibly be confused as to how the recipient felt about their gift.

now that i am married, i realize that not all family's require the same theatrical production.  my first christmas as a wilkins, i remember feeling quite disoriented as each gift was received in a proper, civil manner with a calm, thoughtful 'thank-you'. no jumping around, no rolling on the floor in hysterics.  just a simple 'thank-you'.  i realize that not everyone drinks as much caffiene in the morning or is as highly strung as my family, but it left an unnerving feeling as i didn't know how to read anyone's reaction.

this got me thinking, with all of the gift counting i have been doing lately in my gratitude journal, how much more do i bless Him when i delight extravagantly in His gifts?  i know the Great Gift Giver isn't a drama junkie like my family, but it must bring Him such joy to see me enjoy myself, to watch me revel in His goodness, in the counting of the trillions of moments He says i love you.

as a parent, i LOVE watching our kids enjoy themselves.  the other day, steve gave dav a bob the builder button & he went over the moon about it... apparently he has inherited a touch of the dramatic gene.  all the way home he kept saying 'i'm so happy!', petting the little button pinned onto his shirt.  it was the simplest of gifts, but he definitely enjoyed it to the max.  it was so genuine.  that's the way i want to be.  to enjoy the smallest to the max.  how much more would i enjoy the ordinary, everyday if i saw & reveled in all of the little moments of extravagant love? i choose to celebrate the everyday, wonderful, simple.  the everyday celebration of life & love preserved in uncountable moments that brim over a life full of thanks.

252. hummingbird at my window
253. gummed up abc cards
254. old, untarnished classics
255.  marigolds bowing out of their pot
256. piggy tails

a day in the life of me

what did you today?

a ritualistic, reasonable question punctuated at the end of a day. if so common practice to ask, then why do i always struggle finding the answer? when i worked, the answer was easy. i was 'bringing home the bacon". now that i am a stay-at-home

mom, i have trouble defining my

day, my life even. goodness forbid that i ever look back and wonder what i have done with my life. after all, isn't life just a collection of ordinary every days. a series of mornings and afternoons and nights followed by mornings again. 365 mornings, multiplied by however many years you are blessed with. each day adding to a year. each year adding, totally a life. so then how does one measure a day? where is it's value laid? is it in the number of products produced, projects completed, goals accomplished, boxes ticked? in the weight of emotional epiphanies discovered? in the quality of conversations had? in reaching the perfect ratio of house harmony versus child chaos? in the number of cheerios swept? in the amount of steps clocked on my pedometer? in the amount of laundry baskets, grilled cheeses or flowers picked? in the accumulated average volume range of my voice

during that day? in timeouts? in things forgotten, undone or hurried? in the number of failings, the flaws, the imperfections? how will i measure my life? what will be my truest

fruition look like, feel like, smell like, sound like? how do i measure it, count it. how do i count blessings, not in fear of losing them but always with trusting hands open?

every life begs to be extraordinary, whether it admits it or not. begs to be noticed, valued & remembered. documented & recorded so someone, one day will know that i lived, i longed & i loved. i lived today. i lived fully with hands & eyes wide open. eyes opened to the lavished Love in each

moment, even hard moments. moments bathed in the gentlest Light. and as i am preoccupied with the ordinary, i often miss the extraordinary of everyday moments. for isn't a day without Love, a day wasted, a day lost

in history? and so here is my story, my today, my right now & my forever. here is why i will miss today. not because it was out of the ordinary but because it was lived in the realization the He loves me through the gift of ordinary moments that unfurled, blossomed into Joy, into Beauty. here is what i did today and here is how He loved me today {by no means an exhaustive list}.

• singing silly non-sense songs with the boys
• brand new sheets
• racking up pampers point with a pampers sale
• finding a toy car under the table
• sticky fingers
• dirty floors
• refilling the toilet paper
• shaking out the twins highchairs
• the house shaking thump of kai's bottom hitting the floor after attempting to walk
• davith's pjs having the 'baby gap' label even though they are size 3
• eating cravings
• a house well lived in
• de-stinking the garbage can
• crocodile puppet on the counter
• big, teethy grins
• daddy bike rides
• plates licked clean of their tasty goodness
• the aroma of home cooked food filling the house
• returning overdue movies to rogers
• temper tantrums
• perfect timing
• purging the fridge of very expired yogurt
• a bread basket filled with abundance
• horseplay on new bouncy bed with babies
• my belly getting in the way of the camera
• smelly, gym carpets
• chasing three dirty bottoms up the stairs
• that perfect twist in my hair in just the right spot
• baby dance moves
• warm, sweaty summertime cuddles on porch

this is what my day was made of. even the ugly made beautiful.

made of wonderful. and i will embrace it, frame it, nail it down by giving thanks for each precious moment.

eucharisteo

"gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life & the world."

- sarah ban breathnach

i am starting a list. not any ordinary list. a life altering, time savouring, grace dripping, joy multiplying, glory beholding, love unwrapping list. it is no ordinary list, but it is a list, a recording, a capturing, a denoting, a remembering the ordinary. a list of ordinary. of ordinary moments, pauses in time when God in His kindness fills a life full of good things, beautiful things, things intangible. different than my grocery list, my fix-it list, my honey-do list. different than my list of 100 places i want to see before die. a seeing of wonder from the right now, the right here in my scrubby, little kitchen with the cracked tile. it is a list of one thousand blessings, one thousand gifts, one thousand ways the Lord loves me in the wonder of the everyday ordinary.

i am taking up eucharisteo. eucharisteo, the greek word meaning thanksgiving. as in "He took the bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them..." {luke 22:19} the table of thanksgiving, central symbol to christianity, the key to the mystery of the full life. as He took what would be the symbol of His torn body, just a common loaf of bread, He broke it & gave thanks. funny that it was just common, ordinary bread not the fatted calf or the prize lamb. just plain, old ordinary bread accompanying everyday meals. or is that the point, the ordinary. First Corinthians reads, "whenever you eat this bread and drink the cup". Whenever, as in whenever we eat. like everyday. and so how do i practically pick up this eucharisteo? how do i learn this eucharisteo language? live the eucharisteo life? when the one language i do speak is the language of the fall - discontentment, self-condemnation, never satisfied, an ever searching critical eye? or is it as Paul says "i have learned to be content..." {phil 4:11-12} learned to be thankful whether empty or full. i have so much to learn, so much change, so much to transfigure, to reform. i must do something and yet i don't quite know where to start. Martin Luther is quoted "if you want to change the world, pick up your pen". John Piper said it too "that there are eyes in pencils & pens". and so i will write. i will write one thousand gifts that God has given me.

it is a dare from ann voskamp {one thousand gifts}. a dare to live fully right where i am.

1. fennel tea brewed warm in a pink poka dotted cup

2. three perfect little bottoms hiked up & nestled in amungst swarms of knotted blankies

3. gigantic blossoms of sunshine on my counter on a grey day

4. that perfect little blue pillow that fits just the right space between my belly & the bed