motherhood

All the Things

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Time marches on, doesn’t it? I look at the image from over a decade ago and wonder if any part of me is actually the same. 

Two more kids for a total of four.

Many losses, many more gains.

Softer around the middle, softer in my heart, but stronger in my resolve to pursue what’s most important.

The catalyst for my musings? The digital photo frame I received for Christmas stands on the shelf in the living room, scrolling through our favourite memories at five second intervals, sending thoughts and feelings and nostalgia and gratitude rushing through me when I stop long enough to notice. Every single photo has some sort of memory attached to it. I don’t know if I am emotionally prepared to witness the transformation of my family — or myself, for that matter — all day long, but it has become a source of bittersweetness, a mix of grief and joy.

All the small things.

All the big things.

All the hard things.

All the beautiful things.

It’s all grace. Change is hard, but ignoring change is even harder. I am learning to embrace the truth that my life is a tapestry of God’s faithfulness and I am so grateful for His keeping. 

Thank You Lord that You are faithful, no matter what!

Psalm 139 comes to mind:

You have searched me, Lord,
    and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise;
    you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down;
    you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue
    you, Lord, know it completely.

You hem me in behind and before,
    and you lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
    too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit?
    Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
    if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
    if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,
    your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
    and the light become night around me,”

even the darkness will not be dark to you;
    the night will shine like the day,
    for darkness is as light to you.

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.

How precious to me are your thoughts,[a] God!
    How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them,
    they would outnumber the grains of sand—
    when I awake, I am still with you.

If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
    Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty!

They speak of you with evil intent;
    your adversaries misuse your name.

Do I not hate those who hate you, Lord,
    and abhor those who are in rebellion against you?

I have nothing but hatred for them;
    I count them my enemies.

Search me, God, and know my heart;
    test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,
    and lead me in the way everlasting.

Image: mine, no AI

And On It Goes…

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Switch the laundry load.

Get that workout in. 

Connect with my spouse.

Work checklist?

Church ministry plans.

Dinner?

Add milk and small white trash bags to the shopping list.

Kids school to-dos.

Did I connect with each kid in a meaningful way yet today?

And on it goes…

I have a running to-do list in my mind. It’s dynamic, the order of items constantly shifting to meet the immediate needs that arise from moment to moment, but it’s always there. Sometimes, when all current pressing matters have been taken care of and no unforeseen needs have arisen, I have time to mull over some of the bigger items that have fallen to the bottom.

Am I making the most of this season of family life?

What will happen in the future?

How can I be better prepared for unexpected life challenges and changes?

Am I running out of time?

Some questions don’t have clear answers right now, uncertainties that we all live with in some form or another. Your list may be slightly different than mine, but I’ll bet you have one. Sometimes these uncertainties become more clear, and not necessarily in a good way.

I came across a quote recently that pulled me right back down to earth.

“The list of my uncertainties is long

But longer still is the list of your provisions.”

-Sandra McCracken and Douglas McKelvey (Every Moment Holy: The Work of the People)

There are so many things we can’t predict, and so many things that compete for our time and energy. It’s a good reminder that even though we can’t see the whole picture, we can look back at all the ways the Lord has carried us through in the past, and be confident that He’s got us in His hands today.

Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?…But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:27, 33-34)

Image: mine

Let it Be Summer

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The year goes by so fast, doesn’t it? June is done, and with it, a sense of finality. We’re still in the stage of measuring our lives in school years and summertimes, and summertime is taking centre stage right now.

My favourite tree across the street is larger than last year and all colours of beautiful blooms fill the beds and hedges around the yard. There’s a heaviness in the air this week – a humidity we don’t usually experience here – thanks to some heavy rain several days ago. Even the nights feel warm and sticky. It smells like wet earth and things growing and all the little bits of summer that we forget so quickly when the wind shifts at the end of the season.

For now though, we relish the heat of the sun and the green of the landscape and the hum of the creatures that fill our summer soundtrack. We’re ready for another kind of learning, the kind that teaches us how to live together and love each other well when there isn’t the same set routine or responsibilities of the school year to occupy our time.

It’s not that I don’t have things that need to get done in the next couple of months. There is no shortage of household projects and preparations and to-do lists, but I know that we need to make room for true rest in all its beautiful forms.

Perhaps that’s why I am a firm believer in the gift of a boring summer. Although we do maintain some expectations of household chores and sibling time throughout these wild and free summer days, I choose a slower pace for these summer vacation days. There is space in the schedule to lay down on the grass and look at the clouds. Play the entirety of a Phase 10 card game (that means all 10 phases!). To plan and execute a three-day campout in the backyard. Spontaneously get together with friends who happen to be in town for the day. Shop for and cook dinner over a fire we took the time to build. Say yes to an impromptu ice cream invite. To read aloud together. To grab the binoculars and check out that cool bird. To drive out of town for the day and explore a new place.

To just be.

I walked into two different stores this week and saw autumn-themed decorations – and immediately closed my eyes and put out my hand with a firm, “No”. Not ready for that, thank you very much. How about popsicles for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and watermelon all day long! Sprinklers and water fights and pop-ins at the pool. Epic thunderstorms with awe-inducing lightning bolts and bubbling clouds that make your heart beat just a little bit faster.

The reality of the passage of time is always pressing down on me. I see all the changes happening before my very eyes – in my own reflection in the mirror, in my kids, in our family dynamics. I’m thankful for all the moments we have together, even the ones that feel a lot more like storm clouds and thorns than sunshine and roses. Change has never been my forte, and the looming uncertainties of the future are casting their shadows on my current season of life, but I am setting my heart on the One who never changes!

Psalm 91:1-2

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
    will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
    my God, in whom I trust.”

Image: Stocksnap

A Thousand Little Moments

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“You want to work on this with me, Mom?” 

The invite came from my eldest, last Saturday after breakfast. 

A partially finished puzzle of Jane Austen quotes was laid out on the folding table in the living room. The older two girls had begun it earlier in the week and day after day it stared up at us, patiently waiting to be completed. I’d been intending to sit down and work on it with them at some point in the week, but of course life kept popping in with its more pressing demands.

My mind scanned the list of things on the to-do list. “Puzzle” was not on it. And yet… 

“Sure, let’s see how far we can get,” I agreed as I took my post and slowly began to piece the quotes together, paying close attention to fonts and colours and patterns. I felt a little lost as I tried to make sense of parts of letters and segments of words that could have come from any one of the several quotes on the reference image. It was painfully slow but we made a little bit of headway before other tasks drew us from the table, leaving some sections complete, others partially finished, none connected to the rest. I was a little disappointed, to be honest. I thought we’d get farther in the time we spent on it.

Maybe that’s why I was so surprised when I returned from an errand later that day to discover the puzzle was nearly complete.

“Wow! This looks amazing!” I exclaimed. “How did you finish it so fast?”

“Well actually most of it was done. We just needed to connect the parts together,” my daughter answered as she placed the final few pieces into the puzzle with satisfaction.

Just needed to connect the parts together. The words echoed in my mind. How often have I felt like I just needed to see the whole picture so I could make those seamless connections between the parts of my life that feel like they’re never going to come together and the ones that are looking pretty good from my vantage point. Most of the time, I simply don’t see how it’s all going to work out until long after it’s over and I gain some distance and perspective.

I am learning to trust that the Lord is always at work. And as I get older, I am spending less time trying to predict where things fit and more time marvelling at the finished product, most often absolutely stunned and surprised by the goodness and faithfulness of a God who is always mysteriously at work, bringing beauty from ashes in one way or another.

What an amazing thing! A puzzle goes from one thousand individual little pieces to one exquisite, unified image: an ever-present but very ordinary reminder that the Lord is working a thousand little moments together to bring about something beautiful in my own life. Even when I can’t possibly imagine how the pieces fit, they always do. 

Thanks be to God.

Ephesians 3:16-21

I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.  Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

Image: mine

Sweet Summer

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This week marks the first anniversary of the sudden and unexpected loss of my father-in-law.

Twelve months of firsts. Twelve months that haven’t gone exactly as planned. Twelve months of shuffling, adjusting, making space for a new reality. Twelve months that have brought moments of pure grief, pure joy and everything in between.

And a new awareness: twelve months of the faithfulness of God in dark, unfamiliar places.

For the Lord is good
And His love endures forever
His faithfulness continues to all generations.
(Psalm 100:5)

Yes, Lord, You are faithful. 

As our family moves into the fullness of the sweet summer months, we are experiencing the goodness of the Lord in a thousand little ways, in a thousand little places. And while we intentionally remember what He has done, we recognize there are many things we don’t understand. Living in the tension between the two, our hearts are tuned to His love and care.

Even in the gift of a fresh, late June morning, thick with humidity, at least as much this arid city will allow. More than we’re used to, anyway. Lilacs and roses soak the air with heavy, sweet fragrance as bees bumble from bloom to bloom.

Summer is fleeting in this part of the world, so we tend to make the most of the warmth and sunshine while we have it. Responsibilities give way to relaxation, but we’re learning from the story of the Grasshopper and the Ants! Committing to completing the tasks on the to-do list feels like a sacrifice when we know that before long, autumn will appear for a big colorful show, ushering in our regular tasks and routines.

The weaving together of work and play is an art! Striking that beautiful balance of completing some big jobs and kicking up our heels for some fun seems to be the challenge of these short summer months. I am praying for the strength to do the hard things and the wisdom to make space for the best things. 

I watch my friends and family as their birds leave the nest, knowing that our time is coming. We’re not quite there but we know that soon we’ll be into the “everyone doing their own thing” season of life. We’re catching glimpses of it. The inevitable shift is in motion, and it’s all brand new. I feel like a first-time mom all over again – but this time instead of bouncing a sweet babe on my hip, I’m juggling social plans and big emotions. I’m relearning many things as my role moves from teacher and trainer to coach and cheerleader.

Amid the shifts in family dynamics, the gravity of the passing of time grounds me. I am fully aware that we have just a few years left before our own birds start spreading their wings and heading out.

Lord, stamp eternity into my eyes. Help me not to waste the difficult moments. Help me to trust that You know all things, and in Your time You make all things beautiful.

These past twelve months have driven me even deeper into the perfect love of God. I have discovered that no matter where the road leads, no matter what season we are in, He is good. He is a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in Him! (Nahum 1:7). It is only by His grace that I wake each morning, ready for what the new day holds. And by His grace, I can confidently say: Praise be to the Lord, to God our Saviour, who daily bears our burdens (Psalm 68:19).

Image: mine

Always Learning

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The rhythms of the year are more and more precious to me with each passing season. Birdsong floats over a carpet of green, buds appear on otherwise barren branches and tender shoots poke up through the earth. The sun plays hide and seek with layers of clouds, peeking its head out now and then to cast shadows.

Spring snow brings moisture, although we would rather it fall as rain, but we are well-acquainted with the changeable nature of the season. Even so, the first lines of Psalm 24 echo in my mind… 

“The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it,
    the world, and all who live in it…”

Time drifts along, rearranging the space in my life to suit the season I am in. I am the first to tell my friends that “life is seasons” when the waves of change roll. I’m telling them, but in reality, I’m preaching to my own heart.

I’ve never liked endings, even necessary ones. Even though I know how it will go, I can’t help myself. I’ve shed tears over the break-up of the Beatles, the final minutes of Return of the King, the closing pages of Pride and Prejudice and Anne of Green Gables. I always wish for just one more song or scene. My 9 year old appears to have inherited that trait. The other day she said to me, “Sometimes I don’t finish books because I don’t want them to end.”

Oh honey, I feel that deep in my bones. I don’t want this season to end so I hold on with an iron grip and refuse to open my white-knuckled fingers for fear not that I will drop something but that I myself will be dropped. Is it trust that I am forgetting? I know the One who holds it all together. Can I not trust that He will sustain? That He is enough?

In holding on so tight, I’m trying to hold back the sands of time grain by grain.

Impossible task.

Every time we reach a new stage, a new milestone, a new season, a piece of my heart goes with them. It’s just another version of the same lesson we begin to learn the moment they take their first breath.

Yet, in my heart I hear the gentle whisper, reminding me of the One who is always good.

“Let them go. Let them experience and learn and grow and discover the very good God that you know. The God who sustains, rescues, forgives, saves and love so deeply. The God who is with us, and will be long after you’re gone.”

Oh Lord have mercy on this mama who is always learning to let go! Give me the grace to keep moving through these ages and stages, knowing that You are good and Your love endures forever, and that Your faithfulness continues through all generations.

Help me to trust them, but most of all, to trust You with them, Lord.

Image: Stocksnap

Thankful

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That little sunflower, the one from April that nearly drowned after my earnest 7 year old cared a little too much for it, is three feet tall now.

It stands guard at our front window, watching the sun cross the sky from morning ’til night, a stalwart reminder of resilience in the face of trials of too much water, not enough water, hungry critters, heat that rivalled the desert, and now the kiss of frost.

I’ve often said that I don’t garden because I’m good at it; I garden because it teaches me things. Every year I marvel at the wonders the Lord brings out of my feeble efforts to grow beautiful and delicious things. I’m slowly realizing that it really isn’t me that’s doing the work. Some plants that I thought would thrive have long since shrivelled up, and the ones that I had little hope for are still blooming in Technicolor as the last few weeks of summer fade into the glory of fall.

We are not self-made. Each of us is a garden of hopes and dreams, where ones we think will thrive die off and ones that were planted without a thought grow tall and strong and beautiful, surprising us with a fragrance of life that fills our senses and thrills us beyond measure. God’s goodness is truly astounding!

While roses and sunflowers bloom and carrots and beets sweeten in the frosty night air, the golden and amber paintbrush of fall begins to touch the edges of the landscape.

Thanksgiving is on the horizon and it’s all too fast for me, to be honest. That’s usually when the initial waves of cold and flu season are slamming our home, school and fall commitments are ramping up and the urgency of the final days of warm weather pull us outside as often as possible. Nearly a decade ago I began a tradition of Three Weeks of Thanks, where we spend the three weeks before Thanksgiving intentionally focussing on gratitude and preparing our hearts. In years past, we’ve done handprint leaves out of construction paper with the things we’re thankful written on them. They go up on the wall under a “tree” of sorts, as if they’re gently whirling to the ground. I already know what mine will say.

Our eldest is a pre-teen. Our youngest is off to kindergarten this year. And the in-betweeners are in the thick of elementary-age experiences. No longer are the wee hours of the morning fraught with spills and potty accidents, nor are the evenings quiet with kids in bed early. It’s easy to write a blog when your kids are little; the material writes itself! There are so many adorable moments and I’m glad I’ve recorded some, but as they get older, the stories are shifting. My children are becoming their own people and I’m learning so much about them and myself as we grow together.

That means this space is shifting too. Gone are the days of a young mama sharing about sleepless nights and applesauce smears, here are the days of a late-thirties mom of four learning to trust the One who made these sweet ones to take care of them in the way that only He can.

For this journey, I am thankful.

Thank You Jesus for these hopes and dreams that are thriving right in front of me. I am fully aware that these aren’t by my hand but Yours. You are the Master Gardener, and I’m living proof that Your plans are far better than mine ever were.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created.” James 1:17-18 NIV

Image: Stocksnap

These Things I Know

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August has a way of reminding me that summer can’t last forever. The heavy scent of harvest is in the air, with its sweet promise of abundance. Most years a north wind blows through in the third week and abruptly ends the warmth of summer but this year the sun is standing its ground. Amid the heat, we’re catching glimpses of shorter days with a post-6am sunrise and a few leaves turning here and there, and we’re making the most of these final schedule-free days.

Amid summer’s dying embers, fall looms in the distance. Routines, requirements, responsibilities — all await a fresh energy and positive attitude built up over the months of rest. We’re preparing for the new school year and the rhythm of life that September brings, with all its challenges and opportunities. I’m steeling myself and praying that the Lord would remind me of a few things as we launch into this fall.

Work is a blessing

Whether I deem the work to be meaningful or not, I am formed in the process of carrying it out. The excitement of work I love reveals God’s goodness to me. When I have the opportunity to do the things I enjoy and do well, I live out His design in my life and reveal His glory. The drudgery of tasks I don’t enjoy reminds me that not everything is about me. The toilet, the laundry pile, the dishes in the sink – each one is an opportunity to live out a love that costs me something by laying down my pride, leading by example and serving others well. Either way, the blessing remains.

Rest is essential

When I push myself past the point of no return, it’s not only I who suffer but those around me who bear the weight of my foolishness. My irritability and inability to manage well becomes a sharp sword in my hands, hurting the ones I love the most. Repairing the damage is a painful and lengthy process. When I rest well, I submit to the limits of my body and mind and enjoy the good gift that God has designed as nourishment for myself and my relationships. It becomes an essential part of what it looks like to live well.

Consistent times of worship and prayer are non-negotiable

It’s one of the easiest things to neglect – but also one of the costliest. How quickly I forget who God is! The only One who made me and knows me inside and out, who can bear the weight of the heavy things I’m carrying, who is sovereign over all and yet walks with me step by step, whose mercies are new every morning – He is the One who holds it all together. When I am rooted in Christ’s love through worship from the Word and time in prayer, I am grounded and ready for the temporary challenges that stand in front of me. My perspective shifts from the struggle of the here-and-now to the promise of the what-will-be and I live with my eyes wide open to God’s work in my life. It must be a daily practice.

Community is a gift

As much as I like to fly solo, I am learning that it is unwise to consistently attempt to go it alone. Accepting help is not my forte, but in His great wisdom the Lord has graciously placed people in my life to gently walk along with me in every area. The insecurities left over from previous rejections and hurts are slowly transforming into confidence and strength. Learning how to be a contributing member of the circles we inhabit is crucial for our growth, offering us much more than we can obtain in isolation. We need this.

Lord, let these truths settle into my heart as we prepare for September. Help me stand my ground against the distractions and temptations to go my own way, and keep me on Your path.

Psalm 121

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip—
    he who watches over you will not slumber;

indeed, he who watches over Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you—
    the Lord is your shade at your right hand;

the sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm—
    he will watch over your life;

 the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore.

The glory of an August sunset on the Prairie (image credit: my dad)

Slowing Down to Savour

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A temporary relief from the stifling heat of summer is so welcome! Dark clouds hang overhead, yet to give us the treasure within. We’re waiting for the rain to fall after a week of bright blue skies, blazing sunshine and hot, sleepless nights.

Summer is sailing along now, heavy with the scent of life in full bloom. All the things we’ve planted are showing their resilience in the face of hail and heat. Some stand tall regardless of what comes, others are crushed beneath the weight of the elements or become food for critters and birds bent on survival.

Saskatoons are slowly ripening, but the sparrow stole my only strawberry of the year. Though the plants are young and the soil likely needs more nutrients, I have hope that in future years we’ll have more berries. Maybe I’ll expand the patch in a few more years if the plants are doing well.

Amid all the flowers and fruit, our kids are engaged in the very serious business of backyard play. With four between the ages of 5 and 11, there is no shortage of ideas on how to spend the day. Morning ’til night, with short breaks for food and responsibilities, they play. And play. And read. And play. I believe in the gift of a rather boring summer, with loads of space in the schedule to literally do nothing, if that’s what they want to do. Of course, the responsibilities are always an expectation, but otherwise, we aim for a rather carefree summer pace.

I glance outside. The much-needed moisture begins with sprinkles at first and then turns to a steady, gentle rain. The thirsty ground is soaking up the blessing of a long, cool drink. Trees bend in the wind and robins impatiently pull the surfacing worms out of the ground.

The kids wander around for a while before becoming thoroughly soaked and chilly. In the back door they tumble, asking for a late snack, although lunch is nearly ready. It’s our daily reset button, a gathering around an abundant table, filling their hungry bellies and setting them on track for the afternoon ahead.

I don’t want to forget what it was like in this season of life. I am learning to slow down and savour the small, ordinary moments of each day. These scenes are mainly for me, snapshots of what life is like in these good old days, moments captured on paper and in photos, and mostly, in my mama’s heart.

All four kids, home together, more of a gift than I can fully appreciate, I’m sure. That old cliche rings true: “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone.”

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom….
Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love,
that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.”

Psalm 90:12, 14 (NIV)

The pansies are doing alright this year. Grateful.

Marking Milestones

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And now, summer.

A change in rhythm, a welcome break from the beautiful things that fill our calendar through fall, winter and spring with more space to breathe deep the sweetness of the season, more time to explore new places, more freedom to linger a little longer.

In the coming weeks, we’ll reach another milestone in raising our family: our youngest will join his three older sisters as a school-aged kid with a whole new world to discover. For more than a decade I’ve carried and cared for our babies, toddlers and preschoolers and it has been worth all the blood, sweat and tears so far. Perusing older posts with the stories of life with four kids under the age of six, I’m in awe of how the Lord has provided what I have needed in the moments I needed it most! I found these words I wrote four years ago when the pressure of raising small children was at its peak:

The other day, the older kids were fighting and spilled blueberry applesauce all over the carpet. After cleaning it up, they trotted outside as friends again (nothing like a shared chore to encourage sibling bonding), where one promptly did a trick on the swings and ended up with a possible fracture. I heard the shrieking from inside the house where at the very same time the baby was having a meltdown while I was cleaning up a potty accident from our three year old who was ill. 

While we’re in the thick of a challenging season, we don’t even know that the whole time He is carrying us! It’s only when we find ourselves in between the waves and we have a minute to breathe that we realize we’re still afloat.

In a world that values filters and highlight reels, I’m thankful for authentic reminders of God’s goodness to me in times past. As we mark this family milestone with a celebration of our youngest, I’m praying that I won’t forget these lessons I’ve learned in these early years. We have a long way to go before they’re grown, and I may have no idea what challenges lie ahead, but I know the Lord and I’m confident that He will hold me fast throughout the journey.

Image: Bob Richards/Stocksnap