The Reflection of the Heart

The other day, while shopping with the Fabulous Four, I received one of the nicest compliments I've ever been given. An older lady stopped me at my car as I was loading groceries and little ones and asked if I was 'the lady with all the children' (I really don't think four children qualifies for 'all the children' statements, but alas, I digress) that just came out of Fred Meyer. I admitted to coming out of the store with my children and she said, "I was watching you with your gang and you just have the most peaceful countenance". I tried to deflect the compliment (why do we do that? Why can't we just say, "Thank you") and she responded by saying, "I don't know. You just look like you LOVE your children!" By then, I was about in tears, not just because of her nice, encouraging words to me, but also because I was terribly humbled. You see, just that morning, one of my children was behaving in a far less virtuous manner than how said child had been raised to behave. I do believe in my dealings with this particular child, I looked more like this:
and less like the mother with the peaceful countenance that just "looked like she loved her children". Now I don't expect to be smiling every second of every day, especially when behaviours and misbehaviours must be dealt with. But such a compliment encouraged me to consider who I set my best foot forward for. I'm glad that nice lady could tell that I love my children. But do you know who I want that to be REALLY apparent to? My children and my husband and the Lord who gifted them to me! Her compliment, as nice as it was, presented a challenge to me, one I notice the Lord refreshing quite often. I know our countenance reflects our heart. What do my children see reflected there? Just something to think about!
As a bit of a side note, usually when we are in the grocery store, I will have Sarah in the Ergo, Hannah in the seat of the cart and both boys at my sides. I'm sure we look like an entourage. The comment I get most often is "Boy, you sure have your hands full". It is usually said in passing and thus I rarely have time to let the commenter know that I am so thankful for full hands, that the fillers of my hands are some of the greatest blessings I have ever had bestowed on me!!! Instead, I have begun to say, "Yes, it keeps me from those soap operas and bon-bons"! Hee hee:)

Oh, Christmas Tree...

Our Sarah Grace has found the ornaments on the tree nearly irresistible, which has provided many... shall I say "Training Opportunities". Yesterday I was feeling pretty good about the progress I had made with her. She was doing a fine job of standing at the tree and gazing longingly, with her hands at her side rather than man-handling every single ornament! However, my feelings of pride didn't last long as I watched the wheels in her little mind begin to turn. Uh oh! She carefully and deliberately lifted one foot (which is hard to do when you're a mere 17 months old) and touched it gingerly to an ornament. It's true: where there's a will, there's a way!!!!

"Oh Christmas Tree, oh Christmas Tree...

You provide some many Training Opportunities"

Caption, Anyone?

This picture is crying out for a caption!!! Any suggestions?

Birth Language

I have always marveled at the birth process. The births of my own four children, as well as the numerous births I have had the honor and privilege of attending, have been some of the most beautiful, joyous moments of my life thus far. My husband, on the other hand, loves to refer to birth with somewhat colorful terms. It is, then, his fault that my sweet, feminine daughter came to me last night, with a lump underneath her shirt in the shape of her doll, and said, in a gentle, quiet voice, "Mommy, I am pumping out a baby. See, here I go!"....silence, as she quietly works through what I presume to be her last and final contraction...."There, Mommy! I pumped out another baby!!!" Do you see me rolling my eyes in my husband's general direction?!?!?

The Family Ecosystem

Have you ever noticed that your home life, your family and it's members, have their own unique ecosystem. Its like this fine balance, perhaps a bit of a pecking order. The last couple of days, Noah has been hunting with Craig, gone from o'dark thirty (as they describe it) until dinner's on the table. Noah's absence has made me keenly aware of our ecosystem. While he was gone, I noticed Kaleb proudly shouldering more responsibility. At one point, after bringing the garbage cans up from the street, he asked me, "Mom, when Dad's gone AND Noah's gone, am I the man of the house?" I looked down into a face of hopeful wonder, a 6 1/2 year old wanting very much to be crowned King for a moment. "Oh, you most definitely are! Mommas and sisters need a man of the house and when Daddy and Noah are gone, you're it, Buddy!" His chest puffed out a bit, I'm almost certain, and his gait gained a bit of a strut as he walked purposefully away. I also noticed that he and Hannah became inseparable, playing lots of imaginary games (something Noah has never been interested in!). Kaleb took Hannah right under his wing, welcoming any chance to assist her. Now that Noah is back, I do believe Hannah is going to miss the attention she received from her Kaleb! Of course, Hannah's companionship, though enjoyed by Kaleb, was missed by Sarah then. And the shift continued. It's all very interesting to me!

A 'Huntin' We Will Go

Once upon a time, there was a hunter. He had not one...

Not two...

But three hunting assitants. (Actually, he had a fourth assistant strapped to the back of the hunter's lovely photographer, doing her best impression of an elk call)

Though his assitants, with their semi-quiet whispers and far from quiet rubber boots may not have assisted anything but the hunter's prey, they made a delightful group.

Uh oh! We've lost an assitant to the allure of a mudpuddle!

She has been caught and reprimended. Can't you tell?

"Do Not be Moved Away..."

I've been pondering the arising busy-ness that this time of year offers. Not only pondering it, but strategizing how to resist it as well. Longing to savor the gift of a Babe, the victory not just of the cross but of the manger, and the journey, MY journey, that began at Bethlehem. And then my eyes stumble across this verse by morning's light: "...and be not moved away from the hope of the gospel, which ye have heard and which was preached to every creature which is under heaven..." (Col. 1:23b). That's what busy-ness threatens to do! It threatens, tempts, beckons me to be 'moved away from the hope of the gospel', to be moved away from the awestruck wonder of a manger-birthed, vernix-coated Savior of the World. He came by His choosing and His birth was the world's greatest sermon, preached to every creature. Oh, how I long to savor the incredible mystery of it all, even in the midst of sparkling lights and evergreen trees and festive events.