{Snow Days, Slow Days}

It's been snowing for three days over in our neck of the woods. It's absolutely wonderful. We rarely get more than an inch or two (if we even get snow at all) so the seven inches blanketed across our yard is a glorious sight. Our days are slow and steady. I needed this pause.

We wake up in a rather leisurely fashion, gather around for a brunchy meal (today I made these super yummy French Breakfast Puffs) and then everyone seems to automatically grab a book and curl up for a bit like cats pondering the day ahead. Then someone will suddenly pop up and say, "Hey! Let's go outside!" So they bundle up and go outside.

They're working on building a fort, playing football, heading to the park, wrestling, collecting snow for the freezer -- whatever strikes them at the moment. I hold down the indoor fort. (Little Miss keenly observed that I'm the kind of mom that watches from inside. She also accused me of having hair that looks "sort of like plastic -- but that's a good thing!") So anyway, I work hard, keeping that hot water on the stove; it will only be a matter of time before they come back in, hoping for hot chocolate or tea.

Before I know what's hit me (although occasionally it's a snowball) it's time to eat again. We gather once again, munch once again and disperse once again. Half of us grab books, the other half head outside. I toss some ingredients in the bread machine and add some more water to the kettle; it will only be a matter of time before they're ready for some bagels and a warm drink. I catch a chapter or two of my book with the Abominable Snowman placidly peering at me through the living room window and Maizy curled up next to the couch, melting with joy every time I scratch her back.

I use the afternoons to accomplish something at least a little bit productive, such as blogging (I've been so hit-and-miss lately!), researching material for a fun Olympics unit in school (the kids are excited to set aside their regular studies for a bit), or organizing the fridge.

The thing is this. I've quickly come to realize that having six people in one house means that the fridge is opened and closed with alarming frequency. Condiment-encrusted items are replaced with jar lids askew (oh, the horrors!), crammed between the eggs and the yogurt (it's toppling, my dear!) and it's just not pretty. I first solved the problem a few months ago by hastily scribbling masking tape labels for each shelf and drawer. This wintery break has given me the extra time to replace them with these cute little labels, found over here.

And then, after sneaking in another chapter or two, it's time to eat again. We gather, we munch and then we kick it into high gear. Time to tidy up, get a fire going and settle in for the evening Olympics. Hooray! I love the Olympics.

All in all, it's a pretty cozy routine. We've even heard that church services have been cancelled, so it looks like the routine will likely repeat itself tomorrow. Aidan suggested that we hold our own services. I liked the idea; Little Miss glared. I wondered if we should go to the 9:30 or 11:00 service. She glared again. I vote for the eleven o'clock . . . with muffins and a fire. Then perhaps we can all join together in a chorus of White as Snow.

{Turning to the Right}

A few weeks ago I stuffed our library books into The Iris Tote and hauled Aidan and Avery off to the library. They get very excited on library days, and this time was no different. Well, actually, it was different. When we arrived, we saw that some of our friends had the same idea. It was fun to catch up, to see how their children had grown, to see the baby bouncing on big sister's hip. And then we parted ways in the children's section, my kids turning to the right, her kids turning to the left. My kids turning in the opposite direction of the picture books, board books and play center.

Later, Little Miss admitted that she had noticed it, too. "At first I was thinking about getting a picture book, but I decided I wanted just chapter books instead." And so she had turned to the right.

As I watch my kids grow, I'm realizing that there are a great many firsts and lasts in childhood, so many more than I had considered. Sure, there's the first tooth, the last time to nurse, the first day of school, the last time in the nursery. Those are obvious. But there are others, too. The first time they can do an entire load of laundry, all by themselves. (I now have three in that category, hallelujah.) The last time they accept stickers from the guy at Trader Joe's. (Not sure when that was. It passed without my notice.) The first time they stay up later than their parents. (I'm getting old and tired.) The last time they crawl into bed with you in the morning with bleary eyes and wild hair. (I think Little Miss might have joined us a couple of years ago. I forget.) The first time they unload the dishwasher on their own. (I still have trouble finding the ladle from time to time.) The last time they needed help buckling their car seat. (What a relief to see them pile in, unaided! Of course, now one of them is driving. But that's a different story.)

These passages of time are only natural and right. It wouldn't make sense for my kids to always read Curious George books and ask for my help when brushing their teeth. But it's also good to take a minute and reflect. What was good about those days? What is good about these days? For there is certainly an abundance of blessing in whichever phase we find ourselves.

I like to think about these book phases. When my kids were toddlers, they loved to hold board books. They had to grow to a certain maturity in order to be able to handle a book with paper pages, and then they moved on to the short chapter books. Magic Tree House. The Boxcar Children. The chapters grew longer, and they reached for Little House on the Prairie, Anne of Green Gables and The Wind in the Willows. Now I can hardly keep track of their choices; I've given up on pre-reading their selections. I just do the research . . . and pray. (Which is not so bad, now that I think about it.)

You may find yourself in the board book phase, wiping little cheeks after lunch, helping little ones climb up the step stool to wash at the sink. Or perhaps you're reading picture books. You help tie a shoe or two, but you delight in your child's ability to empty the silverware and put everything in its place. Maybe you've moved on to the shorter chapter books, and you're encouraged by the genuine help you find in your children. Pulling out snacks for a younger sibling, folding a basket of laundry. If you're watching the longer, meatier books pile up on the coffee table, you're in awe of your growing children who are able to help with dinner or run through the grocery store with a list in hand. You wonder, when did this happen?

Wherever you find yourselves, pause for just a minute and say, "Thank you!" Look for the beauty in this season. For God has put you here, at this time, with these children, for His perfect purposes.

* * * * *

Now, I do believe that it seems only fitting to have a book giveaway with this post! This month I have a copy of Holling Clancy Holling's Newberry award winning book, Minn of the Mississippi. Geared toward ages 9 and up, Holling's 1950s books are intricately illustrated, more lengthy than a typical picture book, and appeal especially to children with an eye for detail and an appreciation for science and history. This paperback copy is in very good used condition, with no tears, creases, marks or odors.

I would love for this book to find a place on your bookshelf! If you would too (and your mailing address is in the US), go ahead and leave me a comment here on the blog or under the link on facebook (one entry per person). In your comment, why don't you mention which book phase your kiddos are in right now and one thing you love about this phase. Board books, picture books, early chapter books, etc. I'll announce a winner next Friday!

Thanks for joining me today, friends. Enjoy your weekend! 

  

{Pray}

Last week I was visiting with a friend and, after she had shared some recent struggles with me, she asked how I was doing. I paused briefly. I was actually doing just fine. Was it callous to say so after hearing of her hardships? I spoke truthfully, that I was doing well, and that I was thankful for a quiet season to listen to the Lord and to focus on relationships in our home.

My brother caught me in the cathedral last fall . . .

This week, again, I noticed the sun in the sky, the melody in my heart, the hope in my spirit, and it struck me. This is when I need to be on my knees. When I feel strong, I need to pour that strength before the throne of God and ask Him to show His grace and mercy among those who are feeling so very weak right now. Because if I'm strong at all, it's only the Spirit's power working through me.

I have dear friends who are struggling right now. Friends in the hospital, friends saying impossible goodbyes, friends facing diagnoses and questions and hurts and fears. When I awaken in the night, their names come my way. When I'm elbow deep in bubbles, scrubbing the dinner dishes, their faces comes to mind. When I pull out a book to read, my mind strays to the struggles. And I pray.

Friends, if you're having a good day, pray. Use that strength to praise the Lord and to uphold those who cannot stand. Ask Him for the names, ask Him to show the need. And He will.

{The Perfect Day}

There's something so very marvelous about answered prayer. Often, when I've asked the Lord to bless a certain situation or provide for a certain need, it's such a small or seemingly insignificant request that when the answer arrives -- fully, abundantly, and all its glory -- I'm at a loss for words. I feel so very humbled that the Savior would meet my little need, and tears come to my eyes in place of the words I want to say. (But maybe, for now, that just might be enough?)

The winter months -- especially January -- often feel bleak and dreary to me. But this year, I've sought to quietly give my mornings to the Lord, and, when I do, the shift in my outlook is noticeable.

The first hour of waking is the rudder that guides the whole day. 

Henry Ward Beecher

The morning hour, with my cup of tea and God's Word before me, have grown more precious, and the darkness outside serves only to heighten the vividness of the Light I am learning to discern within.

I open my prayer journal and jot a few notes, add some thoughts, requests, praises, and I come to my children. I'm struck by Lamentations, which reminds me to "Pour out your heart like water in the presence of the Lord. Lift up your hands to Him for the lives of your children . . . ." I don't have extremely pressing needs or urgent requests for them at this season, but I pray for each one and ask the Lord to teach me how to pray when I'm not able to form the words.

Lately I've been asking the Lord to provide creativity in relating to a Certain Little Someone in our home. Our personalities often clash, and more often than not it takes every single ounce of patience in my being to make it to the end of the day without pulling my hair out. Of course it's usually at the end of the day when I most need this blessed patience! Well, in our morning tea conversations, the Lord gently reminded me to treasure those times, and to savor rather than rush the bedtime hour. This is tricky. But as I've done so, I've been given precious little glimpses into my child's heart and needs.

The other night, as I sat on the edge of her bed, I thought of a fun, conversation-promoting question to ask. I leaned into her face, stroked her hair and said, "If you could have a perfect day, what would it look like?" She thought for a moment and, after I had clarified that, for this question, her answer had to be realistic (i.e. we're not going to Disneyland or Slovenia) she came up with her "perfect" day. I guided her to list every particular, like what time she would wake up, what she would eat, where she would go and what she would do.

It turned out to be such a fun exercise, that I asked the same of Aidan the next day. Apparently Little Miss thought it was fun, too, because I later noticed that she had created a poster entitled, "A Very Good Day." On it she had listed (in picture form) the order of events, complete with doughnuts for breakfast, a trip to the library in the afternoon (bless her heart), a movie in the evening, the painting of her bedroom (man, I really need to get on that) and books at bedtime. Which would be 9:30. (She also wanted to go to the store for a minute, but she wasn't quite sure why. Likely the reason would make itself known when she was walking down the aisles.)

Sweet dear. Such a simple little question, and it unleashed her little mind and creativity in a way that I hadn't expected. It also gave me a glimpse into how important that bedtime ritual can be. Surely an answer to prayer. Not huge or drastic, but simple and, well, perfect. For a perfect kind of day.

* * * * * * *

I know if I could orchestrate my perfect day, it would certainly include a good read! Often, at the beginning of the year, I look ahead, wondering what I will read. This year, I thought it would be fun to create a system (yes, I can be OC like that) to guide me in my book choices. In an effort to embrace simplicity and contentedness, my first guideline was that I would focus mainly on the unread books that I already have on my bookshelves. But from there, well, see if you can guess what my system is! So far I've enjoyed:

Emma by Jane Austen

National Velvet by Enid Badnold

Glengarry School Days by Ralph Connor

And up next on the shelf? 

My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell

(Can you figure it out?)

And if you're up for an inspiring or challenging read, but find that your time is limited, let me invite you to soak in a few words on the web. They've done me good this week:

Because questions are a gift: The Questions that will Save Your Relationships 

Because sometimes we forget to get off the island: Sometimes I'm an Island 

Because we don't always know what to say: 5 Can't-Miss Lessons for Walking With People in Pain 

Because sometimes we need to be inspired (take time to watch the video with your kiddos, too!): How to Find Time and Space for the Life You Want

And because sometimes we need to remember that less is more: 10 Unconventional Habits to Live Distraction-less.

Have a blessedly "perfect-in-Him" evening, friends!

How to Find Time & Space for the Life You Want

   

{A Tea and a Teen}

Every year for Christmas, the kids pair off with their cousins and exchange gifts. Avery, who "got Clara," knew right away what she wanted to do, and started to ransack her room in preparation. Princess attire and tea accoutrements flew hither and yon and were eventually stuffed into an old french fries box. I suggested that she might also purchase a gift, and she eagerly added a new tiara and princess shoes to the box.

And then she got out the computer. Her fingers flew, her mind raced, and she created a schedule. For not only would Clara get to dress up like a princess and sip tea as her Christmas gift, she would also get to have a sleepover. Complete with a schedule of events.

One of the most dear things to me about this undertaking was that Avery was eagerly recreating the type of gift that my mom does for the kids every year -- a package of goodies that represents an experience-to-come of some sort . . . and a sleepover.

Well, the gift was very well received, and last weekend Avery's planning and Clara's hopes came to fruition. Little Clara, in all her pink cuteness, walked in our front door, ready for a very special weekend. She hoped that it would include pink tea. It did.

We had our tea party right away, because, well, who wants to delay pink tea?

And then Avery moved on to the next item on her agenda: stories. She had prepared a stack of princess books, and the girls (after applying makeup), snuggled on The Big Chair for all of them. Avery read, and read, and read . . . and read. She read with inflection and a unique assortment of voices, and Clara listened, and listened, and listened. It was the sweetest thing ever.

After dinner, a princess movie, and more stories, they were tucked into bed. Bethie eventually joined them, and I kissed and blessed three precious pink brows before they slipped into dreamland.

The next morning we scurried off to church, where I promptly realized that I probably should have prepared a little bag of diversions for the girls, since they had asked to sit in the service with us. I needn't have worried. They were content to blow their noses (my Kleenex ran out), swing their feet back and forth, follow my pen as I attempted to scribble notes ("Are you writing down what that man is saying?" -- I'm pretty sure I didn't get all four sermon points . . .), and run a little blue rubber worm up and down the chairs. And then they became thirsty. But, thankfully, they were content to sweetly wait until after the service, all the while swinging their legs in anticipation. Dear girls.

After church we enjoyed our traditional Sunday brunch (they chose pink tea, of course), followed by a nap. I lingered next to the room with my book and tea, just in case I was needed, but the little princess was exhausted and fell asleep almost immediately.

Avery, starting to experience that floundering feeling, asked if we could wake Clara up. (The "sleep" part of a "sleepover" isn't so thrilling, you know). The afternoon was getting away from us, and it would soon be time to get her home, so I eventually gave Avery the okay. Clara's cheeks glowed with rosy sleep as she shuffled out of the bedroom, and her eyes were still heavy -- but not too heavy for some more pink tea. I poured out. She sipped and sipped, sweetness personified, until it was time to go.

When we returned home, the memory of it lingered, Avery glowed with pride and satisfaction, and I smiled longingly over the lone cup still sitting on the table. There's something so very dear about having a small child in the home. Especially if that small child happens to be Clara.

* * * * * * *

This weekend, the excitement mounted as not one girl but thirteen gathered for another kind of celebration: Bethie's 13th birthday. The girls trickled in, giggling and blushing, eager to gather for the sweetness that young teens have a way of creating when they come together.

They played games, enjoyed a book exchange, and feasted on fondue. (The bacon dipped in chocolate was quite a hit.) Bethie blushingly pulled out her guitar at her friends' request, and she played a song or two. You can imagine my joy and delight as the songs veered toward worship and the girls all began to raise their sweet voices together: "Here I am to worship . . . ." Oh, my heart.

As I look at my teenage daughter -- I look up now, mind you -- I'm reminded of the words that I pray for her so often. I pray that in her love for people she would have opportunities to draw them to the love of Jesus, that her warmth would cause others to warm toward His open arms, and that her joy would point back to the joy of knowing the Lord. And that always and forever her heart would resonate with the beauty of surrender, "Here I am to worship . . . ."