It’s not you, or you, or you; It’s me. (But you’re not off the hook, H-E-Buddy String Cheese!)

It all started a couple of months ago.

HEB stopped carrying my favorite variety of English muffins.

Everyone in my county started driving like a complete idiot, even more than usual.

My friends kept posting really annoying statuses and pictures to Facebook.  And don’t even get me started on all of the meme-shares!

My home internet got really slow, especially at night and in Jem’s room.

All of my clothes fit funny.

I bought some new shirts and skirts, but then this strange unseasonable coldness descended on Central Texas and it has been too chilly to wear spring clothes.

All of my Pandora stations got hijacked by annoying songs and artists.

Jem somehow developed an ability to spit up twice as much milk as he consumed, yet he continued to gain weight so that he has become as heavy and unwieldy as a jumbo-sized bag of pet food.

For the life of me, I have not been able to figure out how to navigate iTunes after installing the most recent mandatory update.

Every time I turned around in my house, I was stumbling across yet another single white sock and/or used band-aid.

This is only the tip of the iceberg, but you get the idea.  Then one morning I was irritated because I wanted only one stick of string cheese, but they’re packaged in one giant sheet with perforations between each stick, so I had to pull them all out of the package and then detach just the one.  As I was mentally composing an outraged letter to the  H-E-Buddy string cheese company for their asinine packaging, it began to dawn on me: maybe the problem was not with the rest of the universe; maybe it was just me.

Perhaps I know where she learned this…

I called it feeling “emotionally thin,” and “having no margin,” and I remembered feeling this way in the weeks before Sam was born and wondering if there was such a thing as pre-partum depression.Then I stumbled across a great blog post by Jen Hatmaker where she called this state of being “the doldrums.”  I love that.  It brings to mind the Ancient Mariner, sitting “as idle as a painted ship upon a painted sea.”  It’s a listless, demotivating, miserable place to be, but it feels like too much effort to move away from it.

The blog post was called “Stuck in the Doldrums: An Attack Plan.”  And since all my efforts to contract the flu and have an excuse to crawl in bed and stay there have been unsuccessful, I have decided to take Jen’s advice and try to paddle my way over to somewhere with a current.  (Or a tail wind or a head wind or a rip tide…I’m a bit shaky on how to make this nautical metaphor work.  Although I’m pretty sure a rip tide is NOT what I’m looking for.)

Step one: Start getting out of bed when the alarm goes off, rather than snoozing until someone (usually Abby) starts poking me in the eyeballs.  Use the quiet morning time before the kids are awake to 1) Get dressed and makeup on,  2) Write a few lines in my gratitude list, which I abandoned months ago, 3) Read a book, preferably one that exercises my brain and reminds me that I am a human being and not an automatic bottom wiping machine.

Step two: Make a to-do list.  Even if it is long, writing a list keeps the tasks from looming like an infinite dark cloud over my head.  I make sure to include even the smallest items (“remove dirty diaper from trunk of car,” “take shower”) so that I can mark things off quickly and build up momentum for those really formidable projects, like “get budgeting software up-to-date” or “organize 2012 home movies.”

Step three: Throw all of the mismatched socks in the trash can.  No guilt for not trying harder to locate the mates or turning the single socks into cute hand puppets.  Socks are less than $10 for a package of eight and we’re in sandal season anyway and some things are just not worth it.

Step four: Call it what it is, and act accordingly.  It’s been a real game-changer to recognize this as a season, and to know that THIS TOO SHALL PASS.  I remind myself that while I’m in the doldrums, my feelings lie.  So I avoid un-friending people, writing complaint letters, putting children up for adoption, or having  confrontational conversations with family members because I recognize that I temporarily lack the capacity to distinguish minor inconveniences from major crises.

Step five: Ride it out.  Repeat steps 1-4 as necessary.

Side Note: The worst of this phase is definitely behind me, but I’m still floating in and out of it.  That’s why the verbs in this post keep switching between the present, past, and the past perfect progressive tense, in case you are the type to notice and/or care.

On Casting down my Golden Crown, or Not

When I first heard that we’d get golden crowns in Heaven, I was pretty excited.  Then someone told me as soon as I got mine, I’d want to throw it down at God’s feet, and I remember thinking, “I wonder if he’d notice if I held onto mine.”  I knew I’d feel very grateful and worshipful in Heaven, but still…a golden crown!  Full of jewels for all of my good deeds, no less!  And it’s not like God would need it…

Fast forward many years.  Stephen and I were proudly reporting how sweetly Abby shared her treats with us, offering us the last of her Smarties or agreeing when I asked for her only red Skittle.  My mom observed, “Why wouldn’t she be generous?  She knows there’s always more where that came from.”

Our conference in Orlando ended with all of us standing and singing “Holy, Holy, Holy.”  I thought of Abby as I belted out the second verse: “Holy, holy, holy!  All the saints adore thee, casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea.”  And all of a sudden it clicked.

Body restored and uncorrupted.  Brain focused and fully alive (what is that unused 90% capable of, anyway?).  Creative, interesting, satisfying work to do.  Banquets prepared with the best food and wine.  Relationships to deepen and develop.  Conversations to linger for decades.  Beauty to explore and to experience,  music to enjoy and to create, knowledge to discover and to understand.  And in the center of it all, Jesus, ruling over a kingdom where everyone and everything works just as it was created to work.

Every need fulfilled to abundance.  Why would I be stingy with a crown?  How wonderful to be free of that part of my nature that feels the need to grasp, to hoard, to self-protect!  How freeing to live like a child who never wants for anything, who is completely satisfied–body, soul, spirit– with the life she’s been given by her generous and loving Father and King!

For a few days after I got home I enjoyed this mental picture, and pined for Heaven a little more than usual.

But this thought became a little less comfortable the more I rolled it around in my brain.  A few verses came to mind:

“His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness.” (2 Pet. 2:3)

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly realms.” (Eph. 1:3)

“But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more cloth you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’  For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.  But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” (Matt. 6:30-33)

“No good thing does [the Lord God] withhold from those who walk uprightly.” (Ps. 84:11)

Obviously, I’m not living in Heaven yet.  But I am still living under the protection of that same loving Father and King, who makes these promises in the present tense.  Yes, it’s more complicated here, because the world is broken and my heart and mind are clouded, but the principle at the bottom of it all is clear: God will give me what I need.  And even on a really whiny day, I know that he’s given me a lot more than that.

So when God gives me something good and then I hold onto it with a white-knuckled grip, telling him “YOU CAN’T HAVE IT! IT’S MINE!”, it’s as ludicrous as heavenly Lindsey sneaking away with the golden crown, or greedy Abby shoving all the Skittles into her mouth so Daddy can’t eat one.  Even when it’s my money.  Or my free time.  Or my kids.  It’s not mine, not any of it.  So I should receive gifts with gratitude and humility, knowing that God gives and takes away, but that “there’s always more where that came from.”  And I can trust God to do right by me.

You can see why this thought was less fun.  But here’s the truth:  How wonderful to be free of that part of my nature that feels the need to grasp, to hoard, to self-protect!  How freeing to live like a child who never wants for anything, who is completely satisfied–body, soul, spirit–with the life she’s been given by her generous and loving Father and King!

Now to live like I believe this is true.

{Pretty, Funny, Happy, Real} Easter and Florida Vacay Edition

“Capturing the Context of Contentment” with Like Mother, Like Daughter 

{pretty}

This was another sweet one from our Easter picture-taking.

This is Stephen and Jem at our hotel in Florida.  It was beautiful, and since the whole conference was contained in the hotel and conference center, we bumped into celebrities all the time!  I didn’t see Hugh Grant, of course, but to nerds like us, standing in a lobby with Tim Keller was almost as exciting.

On Halloween we took only two terrible-quality pictures of the kids in their cute coordinated costumes.  Ever since then, I’ve been intending to dress them back up and take some better ones.  Well, you know what they say: better late than never!  Of course, that is not the same costume for Jem (he was only 2 weeks old), but it’s actually much cuter than what he wore originally.

{funny}

Stephen and I were so proud to sport the latest edition of our church t-shirts at our church picnic, but we went straight to the airport from there, and all of the sudden the matchy-matchy look felt super lame.  In this picture, we’re trying to play it cool, as if we’re one of those couples who wear coordinating t-shirts on purpose.

So have I made my case about what totally cool parents we are?  Because this surely seals the deal.  What six-month-old doesn’t think it’s a total trip to have his picture taken in a Martin Luther face cutout?
This is Reformation humor at its finest.

{happy}

This year we dyed Easter eggs with a Pinterest-inspired method of mixing food coloring into shaving cream.  It was hugely messy, but fun.  The green and yellow food coloring didn’t stick at all, but the blue and red made the pretty eggs that you see in the second picture.

Most of the resurrection rolls collapsed in the oven (photo 1), and only two actually looked like empty tombs (photo 2).  Also you have to overlook the heretical symbolism of “Jesus’s body” melted out all over the parchment paper.  But this little cooking activity was tons of fun, and we’ll definitely do it again.
I do believe this is the most heavenly way to eat a Crescent Roll, and I don’t say that lightly.

Jem’s first plane ride!  He was a great sport.

A few weekends ago we spent an afternoon in Aggieland celebrating Auntie Leslie’s Ring Day.  How good do my kids look in maroon?!

{real}

Do you want to know how many days this stuck out of my trunk before I looked closely enough to figure out that it was a wet wipe?
(I actually don’t know the answer.  But it’s more than one.)

No one was actually having as much fun as the {pretty} picture would have you believe.  Both the pouting and the mad face are genuine Abby, not posing for the camera.  But what did we expect, dressing up our children just for a photo op like this was some episode of Toddlers and Tiaras?

That’s quite enough for one day.  And NOW you’re totally caught up on our life.  Hopefully I’ll be back with some deep thoughts next week.  :-)

Catching Up

It’s been almost a whole month since my last post (not counting the gift list), and I don’t even know where to begin catching up.  I’ll take you on a quick tour of the past few weeks, and then we’ll see what seems to beg for more detail.

Easter was a wonderful celebration, despite the fact that Abby came down with an inconvenient fever on Good Friday.  For the second year in a row, we gathered with some friends and family Friday night for David Platt’s Secret Church, which is a 6-hour sermon event that we watched via webcast at my parents’ house.  This year the teaching was on “Heaven, Hell, and the End of the World.”  It’s not every day I’d stay up past midnight to catch the fifth hour of a sermon, but this event is worth every minute.

On Saturday we kicked off our Easter celebration at home, where we dyed eggs, ate our first feast of the weekend, and enjoyed the truly delicious Resurrection rolls.  Sunday we went to church, but because of Abby’s pesky fever, we had to miss the big Watson celebration in the afternoon.  (I actually think that I was more disappointed than Abby!)  My mom consoled me with a lovely lunch and egg hunt at her house, and then we took some family pictures in the bluebonnets. By Monday Abby had been fever-free for 24 hours, and there were still cousins, leftovers, and plastic eggs at Stephen’s parents’ house, so we went over there and enjoyed a third day of Easter fun.

That all feels like a hundred years ago.

Since then, we’ve actually spent time with the extended Watson family again.  We’re all going through a hard time right now, the kind that makes us all just want to get together and hug a little more than usual, so we’ve all jumped at any excuse to end up at Mom and Dad’s house all at the same time.  We already have our next few get-togethers on the calendar, and we’re all really counting on the fact that if my in-laws ever feel overwhelmed by the extra pressures of cooking and hosting us all that they will speak up and let us pitch in more than usual.  Meanwhile, we’re all brimming over with affection for each other and we even have matching family shirts to prove it now.  Abby puts hers on the second it comes out of the dryer, every time.

In other news, Stephen and I took a quick trip to Orlando for The Gospel Coalition National Conference.  We stayed in a nice hotel and enjoyed eating outdoors and sitting in the pool while all of our poor friends in Texas shivered and bundled up against unseasonably cold April showers.  Abby stayed with her grandparents, but we took Jem with us, and he proved to be once and for all the easiest baby ever.  He didn’t even cry on the airplane, although I almost did when we were trying to get home and it was already late and they announced that our flight would be extra long because we were being rerouted.  Anyway, we heard lots of great teaching and I got to have a quick chat with my celebrity crush Nancy Guthrie (Not a crush-crush, of course; I just think that everything she does is awesome).

And among all this excitement, in all my free time, I’ve been trying to keep my kitchen counter from becoming engulfed by clutter (where does it all come from!?!?), trying to keep tabs on the goop in Jem’s eye (a normal amount, or cause for concern?), tackling some spring cleaning projects, and daily reestablishing my position as Alpha Female in our family.  These days, Abby is a total delight and a complete pill, often both in the space of the same five minutes.  I’m sure I’ll talk more on that subject.

She’s back on a big Barney kick, and we’re currently conducting an experiment to see how many consecutive days a child can be entertained by watching Barney’s Top 20 Countdown.  We’re at 47 days and showing no signs of slowing down.

But enough about me.  How have YOU been?

A Gentleman’s Handy Guide to Buying Gifts for Women

I usually like to come back after a long blog hiatus with a really thoughtful post that makes you subscribers remember why you like getting emails from me.

This might not be such a post.

Recently Stephen mentioned in passing that he thinks I’m hard to buy gifts for.  I found this surprising, because I never have any trouble buying gifts for myself!  He actually does a pretty good job coming up with gift ideas on his own, but I wanted to help him feel confident and inspired when the next special occasion comes around.

It’s such a joy to give a gift you know a person is going to love.  And it’s so frustrating to have an occasion coming up, and to have no idea what to buy, or to spend money on a gesture that you’re pretty sure is going to end up in the garage sale box.    I would love a suggestion list from some of my dearest ones, and so I thought I’d start a trend.

I decided to write this list in a public forum as a public service for any other husbands (boyfriends, sons, brothers) who might need some creative inspiration in the gift-giving department.  Ladies, feel free to copy and paste, tailor this post to your own preferences, and pass it off as your own.

And now, without further ado:

1.  Magazines.  If it’s something that you know she’ll love reading often, a subscription a great gift that keeps on giving.  But a single issue of an indulgent celebrity or fashion magazine is a fun treat. ($)

2.  Gift certificate for a pedicure.  Ask a sister or girlfriend for a recommendation on where to go, specifically.  This is a lovely indulgence that almost every woman enjoys, but many hesitate to pay money for very often.  If you have a little extra to spend, make it a mani-pedi, and it goes without saying that you’re volunteering to keep the kids so she can go alone!  (Note: this gift also pairs nicely with a magazine, so she can read it while her paint dries!) ($$)

3.  Gift certificate for a nice haircut.  Also a special treat that many ladies on a tight budget don’t enjoy very often. ($$)

4.  New pajamas.  I’m not talking about some little lacy number with strings attached (figuratively).  Just something really soft and cute.  And then let her sleep late in them! ($-$$)

5.  One-time housecleaning service.  If you have regular cleaning help, this would not be very special.  But for a girl who cleans her own ceiling fans and baseboards (or doesn’t), this would be awesome! ($$$$)

6.  Starbucks card.  This might feel impersonal, but I always love to get them.  Of course, it’s extra sweet when a gift like this implies permission to go spend it on a few hours alone or with some girlfriends. ($-$$)

7.  Dinner at home.  Here’s the way to make this a total indulgence: plan the menu. Shop for the groceries.  Prepare the meal and  clean up afterward, all the while insisting that your lady love sits on the couch with her favorite book or show. ($$)

8.  Kid Crafts.  There’s no woman who won’t melt at the sight of gifts made with love by her family.  Handprints are always sweet.  Or figure out how to order  prints online and do something sweet with a picture frame or photo album.  (Hint: wide mats on photo frames are a great place for kids to draw or for older admirers to write appreciative notes).  Also websites like Shutterfly or PersonalizationMall offer a hundred cute things you can print pictures onto, from keychains to coffee mugs.  It’s hard to go wrong with anything there. ($-$$)

9.  Speaking of love notes, those are always good.  No eloquence required; a bulleted list of admired qualities is great!  For an extra special touch, send it in the mail so she finds it unexpectedly among the bills and coupons. ($)

10.  Shop her wishlist.  Chances are, she has one on Amazon or Etsy.  Secretly buy something from her wishlist and let it be a surprise when the mailman drops it off!  Or intercept the package at the door and wrap it traditionally.  Either way is a total win. ($-$$$)

11.  Party, party.  Celebrate extra-special events by inviting her favorite friends to  share it with you.  Meet at a restaurant and go Dutch treat, or plan a bash at your own place.  ($-$$$$)

12.  Cash, with strings attached.  It’s not impersonal if you insist that she go spend it on new clothes or shoes.  (She always needs something.)  You can even volunteer to drive her to the big city and hold her purse while she shops! ($-$$$)

Price Guide:

$- Under 10
$$- 10-50
$$$- 50-75
$$$$- 75-100

Keeping the Feast

In an ironic turn of events, cool moms around the blogosphere are protesting the commercialization of Easter with a new line of T-shirts, available for purchase at a website near you.

For $20, your t-shirt can proclaim to your Sunday morning church crowd, “I’d rather support an orphan!”, leaving no one in doubt of your heart for the less fortunate of the world, and maybe helping to inspire a bit of holy conviction in the heart of the mom who brought her kids to church dressed like fancy little cupcakes.

Easter should be all about JESUS and not at all about the Easter Bunny.  We shouldn’t make the most important church service of the Christian year into a fashion parade; our children shouldn’t look for the Reason for the Season inside of a plastic egg.  It’s about an empty tomb, not empty wallets; a risen Savior, not a Retail Season.

I think we can all agree on that.

And maybe at your church, or in your family, your orphan care shirts are really different than the ones I’m describing, and wearing them is a reverent and God-glorifying thing to do.  I’m not here to lay down a new law, but to present a middle road between commercialized excess and Spartan protest.  I think it’s the road most of us are already walking, and I would like to represent our voice in the blog world.

Easter Sunday is the most important day of the Christian year, because without the Resurrection, every other part of our faith is rubbish.  Without the Resurrection, our suffering is meaningless, the dead are lost to us forever, and the life of Jesus is just an example that we should but can’t follow.

So Easter is an occasion for our greatest rejoicing.  In the words of Paul: “For Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us. Therefore, let us keep the feast!”  So how do we do this in a way that is consistent with the context of I Corinthians 5 and the example of Jesus himself?

1.  Prepare your hearts ahead of time.

The season of Lent is an opportunity for focused spiritual discipline, for repentance of sin, for extra meditation on the life of Christ.  Even if you don’t observe the whole 40 days of Lent, consider special readings for Holy Week to focus on the Passion story.  Allow yourself to feel the weight of your own sin and the enormity of Christ’s atoning work on the cross.

Visual symbols can be helpful, especially with children, which is why I love the traditions we’ve adopted of planting seeds, of fasting, of extinguishing candles.  We’ve read the story of Jesus (“the one where he is dead”) so many times that I can almost recite it.  Today (Wednesday), we attended a local Easter pageant that brought tears to my eyes as I watched the life of Christ played out before my eyes.

I’m so ready for a celebration.  And I’m not worried that I’ll accidentally start to think that Sunday is all about the chocolate, or the bread, although I plan to enjoy both of those things!  Because when you’ve allowed your heart to feel the weight of an eternal problem, you’re in no danger of feeling satisfied by shallow pleasures.  Nothing less than a risen Jesus is strong enough medicine.

2.  Celebrate Sunday!

When my kids think over the year, I want Easter to be their favorite day.  So we make it a day of celebration!  There’s a lot of Jesus, for sure: we’ll attend church together, play songs of the Resurrection at top volume, make empty-tomb crescent rolls, light all our candles, and read the Easter story from the Bible.

But everything doesn’t need a cross on it to be an appropriate activity for this day.  We will get together with extended family for a delicious meal (no spiritual symbolism required), the kids will hunt for plastic eggs, I’ll put a wind-up chick on each plate at breakfast, we’ll dye eggs, everyone will eat too many jelly beans and chocolate candies.

And, we’ll wear new clothes.  Buying a special new dress or shirt is a way to emphasize the importance of this day.  We dress up in special clothes for weddings, for birthdays, for church every other week, so why not for Easter?  In the context of a larger Christ-centered celebration, an Easter dress says, “I want to honor the importance of this day with a special outfit.”  It doesn’t have to be expensive or so fancy it can never be worn again.

On Monday, we’ll return to what is hopefully our “normal” life of picking up our cross, giving to the poor, mortifying sin, and serving each other.  But this Sunday, He is Risen!  Let’s keep the feast.

Mismatched Shorts

I’m going to shoot for a list of ten here.  Wouldn’t that be nice and even?

***

I have about a 50% success rate with recipes I’ve found through Pinterest.  This morning, I’m fueled by one of my successes: Banana Oatmeal Breakfast Muffins from the blog “Fit and Healthy with Debbie.”  This recipe whips up in no time in the food processor, and because the muffins contain no flour or sugar, they feel healthy enough that I don’t feel bad letting Abby call them breakfast, or grabbing one or two or six for myself as I run out the door on a frantic morning.

***

My kitchen cabinets are real wood (not laminate) and almost 30 years old, so shelf paper is a must.  When we moved in, my friend Diane kindly tackled the miserable job of installing shelf liners in all my cabinets, using this grippy rubber mesh stuff that I had bought at Wal-Mart.  Can I just say– it is terrible!  The rubber grips to the bottom of heavy dishes instead of to the cabinet, so when I pull the crock pot off of the top shelf, for instance, the whole piece of liner comes out with it, pulling other items from the shelf down on my head.  Or when I try to slide a heavy baking dish into place, the whole liner wads up in the back of the shelf.  It’s so annoying I’m almost to the point of re-papering all of my cabinet bottoms with something smooth, which is a very big deal if you realize how much I detest precise measuring and cutting.

On a positive note, however, I keep a generous square of that grippy mesh taped to the inside of a cabinet door and it is a great tool for opening jars.  So it is useful for SOMETHING, even if it’s not its intended purpose.

***

I ignored the book Unbroken when I first saw it on the bookshelf because I saw that it was by the author of Seabiscuit, and I assumed from the title that it was another book about horses.  And I’d rather install shelf paper in the kitchen than read a book about animals.  But it turns out it’s an inspiring true story about a PERSON during World War II, and so I read it.  Any book where one-third of the action takes place in a Japanese POW camp is not for the faint of heart, so don’t pick it up when you’re in the mood for a carefree beach read.  Also the main character dies in the end, as is true in most biographies, and that’s always a rough way to end a book.  But with those two caveats, I’d highly recommend it as a fascinating and informative account of an extraordinary life.

***

On my next birthday I will be thirty-one.  I’m pretty sure that makes me a real adult.  More and more I fit the bill, at least on the outside: I show up to morning events with minty/coffee breath.  My tummy is round but my bottom is flat.  I write out my bills on baby blue checks.  I haven’t seen a video of the Harlem Shake (except a Downton Abbey-themed parody), and I do not understand why all of a sudden everyone on Facebook wants to be Jennifer Lawrence’s best friend.

But before you all go out and buy me vests from Coldwater Creek for my birthday I should also confess that I put a Hot Pocket and a bowl of frozen peas on the table tonight in front of my child and called it “dinner.”  And I still allowed myself to eat ice cream for dessert after Abby went to bed, because I had cleaned my plate, and that’s the reward for members of the Clean Plate Club.  So inside my current matronly self still lives the spirit of College Days Lindsey, who ate half of five batches of Magical Mint Kiss cookies one Christmas, or who thought a good breakfast was a Snickers and a DP from a vending machine in the Blocker building.

It’s really too bad the metabolism of College Days Lindsey does not live on in my present self.

***

As this very post languished in my drafts folder, I somehow got assigned to write an e-mail to a person that I don’t know, asking her to participate in an event for our church.  The first time I sat down to start a draft, I felt myself morphing back into my awkward fifteen year old self.  ”Hi, you wouldn’t want to come to our party, would you?”  And I’m sure that even through e-mail it’s obvious to the recipient, who is a real adult, that I’m looking at the ceiling while I talk and that I’m wearing Sambas and a braided leather belt.  And she’ll be thinking, “Sorry, I don’t remember giving you permission to call me by my first name.”  

So everything I said about how I’m starting to think I’m grown up now?  I take it all back.

***

That reminds me, we watched some home videos from my childhood the other day that demonstrate how far back my social insecurities go.  I was calling my friends on my little Fisher Price phone, and all of the conversations went like this: “Hello, Zack Carter? Are you busy?  Yes?  Okay, well I’ll call back later.”

So the other day I stood outside Abby’s door and listened in while she called her friends on her little Fisher Price phone, and cried with relief when I heard her say, “Hi, Eli, would you like to come to my party?  Yes?  Okay, I’ll see you there!”

Now to keep that confidence intact through adolescence.

***

The other night Stephen made several comments about the fact that the black words on my comfy t-shirt matched my black pajama pants.  ”It’s like you made an outfit,” he marveled.  This would normally not offend me, except that I have made a conscious effort to sleep in complementary tops and bottoms for every night of our seven years of marriage.  I’m not sure if I should be more concerned for Stephen’s habit of attentiveness, or for my ability to put together an outfit.

I just know that the first night that I go to bed in something hideously mismatched or unflattering will be the night that our house catches fire, and that’s what I’ll have on when I’m interviewed by the local news, and under my name I’ll be identified as “Victim of fire and fashion.”  And I’ll never live it down, because the footage will go viral on YouTube and people will turn me into a mocking meme to live on people’s “Ha, Ha” Pinterest boards forever.  And if you think, “Ain’t nobody got time for that,” well, you haven’t been on the Internet lately.

***

I’m going to get to 10, but I’m aware that these shorts are running a bit long.  So here are three little tiny nuggets to finish off this post.

***

You only have one week left to download all of Page CXVI’s music for free.  If you haven’t done it yet, what are you waiting for?  I love them so much I have actually sent them an e-mail to see if they’ll come to my town when they’re touring through Texas.  (That is NOT the e-mail I talked about earlier in the post.)

***

Here’s exhibit one million for why kids don’t need expensive toys.  Abby has at least five lovely dolls, including my American Girl baby Emily Kaitlyn, which Abby has inherited and renamed Angebell.  And yet here she is playing doctor with her favorite “baby,” which is one of Stephen’s socks filled with rice.

***

Have I told this story here before?  Recently Stephen and I were asked the question, “If you could live anywhere in the world (other than where you live now), where would it be?”  Without consulting each other, we both answered, “Waco.”

There’s conclusive proof that we are Made For Each Other, and also the least adventurous couple on planet Earth.

***

Toddlers are like a box of chocolates…

I texted this line to my sister the other day as a way of warning her that I could not guarantee Abby’s good behavior at a grown-up event that night.  I intended for Laura to fill in the traditional end to Forrest Gump’s favorite line of wisdom: “…you never know what you’re going to get.”

CERTAINLY, ABUNDANTLY, this is true.  The unpredictability of my toddler is the one constant in my life at the moment.  But there are other ways to finish the sentence here, and I’ve amused myself for a couple of days trying to think of alternative endings to Mama’s great advice.

Toddlers are like a box of chocolates…

…sometimes they’re nutty.

…you can’t leave them in the car on a hot day.

…it doesn’t take much for them to become a sticky mess.

…if you’re not careful, they’ll stay forever on your hips.

…they’re gone before you know it.
(You can interpret this figuratively to mean they grow up quickly, or literally to mean you can’t take your eyes off of them in Target for a second.)

…there’s always more going on inside than meets the eye.

…if you leave them unattended, someone might take them.

…they’re cute when they’re accessorized with bows.

…they’re great subjects for Instagram photos.

…you shouldn’t have more than two or three at a time, unless you have a particularly strong constitution.

…there IS a way to know what you’re going to get, but no one figures it out until after they’ve already damaged a few.

And I’m out!  Anything to add, clever friends?

Hymns so rich, so free

When it got close to wintertime in South Dakota, Pa Ingalls used to string a rope from the house to the barn, and he’d keep his hand on it as he walked back and forth to do his chores.  Out on the plains, a blizzard could strike with only a second’s notice, and if it caught him unprepared, he could easily become disoriented and get lost in the swirling wind and snow.  But with his hand on the rope, he knew he could find his way to safety, one step at a time, even in the midst of the wildest storm.

Although you know I’m not above gratuitous Little House references, this one is actually quite profound.  Great storms of emotion have a way of spinning us around and leaving us without a sense of which way is up.  In these moments, often our own words fail us, and we’re unable even to process our own feelings, much less talk any sense to them.  In these moments, having a memory full of hymns and psalms can be a rope to cling to.

I’ve been speechless more than usual over the past year and a half, as we buried a baby, as I tried to parent a toddler, as I despaired after reading tragic stories in the news, as I carried Jem for an anxious nine months.  In those moments, I’ve been thankful for words of hymns that give words to my suffering and to my hope.

Nancy Guthrie writes, “In times of distress we can give into endless introspection and self-pity and stay right where we are…or we can bring our distress before God and let him flood our lives with living water…[the words of the Psalms] are the songs we want impressed on our minds, believing that they will shape and instruct our feelings…Doubt leads to trust; anger toward God turns to admiration for God; sadness gives way to joy.” (The Wisdom of God)

For at least the past year, I’ve made a point to keep hymns playing in the house.  And in the past two weeks, as we’ve faced yet another unexpected storm, those hymns have been the words that have risen in my thoughts and formed my prayers when my mind feels too overwhelmed and numb to speak for itself.  They  remind my heart of the truths that are greater than my feelings of fear and sadness.

So now for a little public service announcement and an example of providential timing: many of my current favorite hymns to listen to are performed by the band Page CXVI, and for the month of March, they’re giving away all of their albums for free!  Here’s the press release:

“PageCXVI and The Autumn Film are still celebrating 7 years of music by giving away their entire discography from both their projects Page CXVI and The Autumn Film*. Noisetrade has partnered with them for our March Jubilee Giveaway! They are thrilled and honored to work with an outstanding team of people who care deeply about music. If you have not already downloaded their 74 song, 11 album, 2 band giveaway please visit their giveaway on Noisetrade now!

*They had to leave out a few songs due to copyright/royalty issues, but are all available on iTunes.”

What are you waiting for? Grab some rope.

PS- to add some variety to your hymn playlists, I’d also point you in the direction of Indelible Grace, Keith and Kristyn Getty, Sandra McCracken, Matthew Smith, and Jadon Lavik.  Their music is (mostly) not free, but definitely worth a download!

 

Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, Abide with Me

It’s hard to say if last week was the best or the worst week we’ve had in a long time. I got some great belly laughs from Jem, and we made some definite progress in his nighttime sleeping.  All week, my family was giddy with the excitement of keeping a big secret, and on Friday night we all drove to College Station for a surprise engagement party for my youngest sister.

And yet in the midst of it all my heart was heavy with dread and fear as I watched my phone for word from other dear ones with a report from their long hours with their child in the hospital waiting room.  We were impatient for answers, even as we wondered if we could possibly bear the answers when they came.

It’s been two full years since I’ve been counting gifts, two years of giving thanks to a good and sovereign God for baby kisses, warm breezes, cool sheets, sweet melodies. I’ve given thanks for my parenting failures, shame over selfish words spoken, and tears for the baby we didn’t take home, trusting that even these ugly-beautiful moments were shaping me to be more like Jesus.

I’ve pressed as hard as I know how into the belief that God is great and God is good in all things, in ALL things.  His eye is on the sparrow and he’s numbered the hairs on my head and Jesus alone holds the keys to life and death, and His will IS done on earth as it is in heaven.  Yet I’m still left speechless in the face of a term like “pediatric oncologist,” and I remember that it is no easy thing to live in a world where a person can make a living battling against cancer in children’s bodies.

Abide with me, fast falls the eventide
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Those happy moments–those easy-to-spot gifts like baby coos and drawings taped to the refrigerator and new rings sparkling on left hands–shine like diamonds in the midst of our days.  And we receive those sweet gifts with thankfulness, but we can only really enjoy them when we believe…really believe… that the best gifts, even the gift of life itself, aren’t enough to live for.  If life is merely hoping the happy moments outnumber the sad, we should crumble with despair.

Change and decay in all around I see
O Thou who changest not, abide with me

I read an inspiring blog by Russell Moore that challenges us to change the way we think about our place in the cosmic story: “Let’s talk about eternity. But it’s no mere ‘afterlife.’ Instead let’s start thinking of this little puff of time, the next eighty or so years, as what it is: the pre-life.”

We do well to remember that we live in the shadows now; that the glittering moments of joy are just glimpses of the life what will one day be ours.  Sin and brokenness is meant to make us groan, to remind us that we were never meant to feel at home here in the muck.

I need Thy presence every passing hour.
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.

 Thanks be to Jesus, who became one of us, who suffered body broken and heart betrayed, so that our own suffering would not be in vain.  We cling to him when the happiness turns to tears, and the miracle of his presence brings joy even in the midst of our suffering.

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

I pray for years of innocence and safety for Abby and Jem. I pray for a long and happy marriage for Leslie and Reggie.  I pray for healing and comfort for my precious ones who are sick.  But I don’t know what tomorrow holds for any of us, so my hope and confidence can’t be in temporary happiness and restoration; my trust in God can’t be contingent on how  quickly he restores me to happy circumstances when tragedy strikes.  He is writing a greater story than we can possibly glimpse from within the shadows.  And I can trust his goodness and generosity, because whatever else he does or doesn’t give to us, he’s already given us the most priceless gift: the guarantee of life in his presence, now and forever.

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.