Pinch Me

Because sometimes I feel as if I am brimming with too much joy to contain.  Is this life real?  Is it really mine?  Thank You, Lord, for making my cup run over--day after day after day.

The last three days have been an unexpected gift.  Hurricane Matthew shut down the courts and the schools, leaving Daddy, Mommy, and Ducky with a freebie four-day weekend on our hands.  (Didn't have to use up any of my precious few vacation days!)  So very thankfully, God spared us of Matthew's devastation--and even modern-day conveniences, as we didn't lose more than a brief flicker of power.

Instead of dealing with flooding, broken windows, life-by-flashlight, generators and gas stoves (let alone injury or loss of life), God mercifully and generously gave us several sweet days of close togetherness.  

...Extended time in our pajamas, reading in Ducky's "library room."  And by "reading" I mean her "reading" books to herself and us watching her with great amusement.  She is increasingly independent, and often wrests the book away, points to herself, and says, "Me."  She wants to do it all herself...and all the better if it's done leaning against her favorite pillow (very particular, this one), with Bunny Blanket by her side, snuggled up between Mommy and Daddy.  Once in a while, after she's had enough of "reading" to herself, she climbs into my lap, sticks her left thumb (it's always been her left thumb) into her mouth, grabs Bunny's ears to begin another stroke-session, and chooses a book for me to read to her.  Her favorites include "Curious George and the Birthday Surprise," "God Bless You and Good Night," "Thank You Prayer," and "Should I Share My Ice Cream?"  When she chooses one, that's usually the book we'll have to stay on for a long, long time.  Because after each reading, she will tap her right fist into her left palm twice--Ducky language for, "Again! Again!"  And so we read...again...and again...and again.  The same book, over and over.  And yes, sometimes it feels tedious.  But mostly, it feels like a gift to  be the chosen one who gets to read to this precious child over and over again, with her snuggled in my lap, utterly content.  

...The nonsensical soundtrack of our lives, which goes something like (bold font is Ducky; regular is Daddy and Mommy):  "MOMMY!  Yes, my ducky.  MOM!  I'm right here, my Ducky.  What is it?  Meow.  Oh, you want to go see the meows?  You want to go outside and see Miss Kendall's cats?  Goo-goo.  Yes, I see your acorns.  You have so many acorns.  Wait--that one doesn't have a hat. Can you find a hat for this acorn?  Oh--you're stuffing them into Mommy's shorts pocket again, are you?  No, no, not into the big pocket. You can put them into the small pocket.  Goo-goo! Goo-goo! I know you love your acorns!  Mommy, goo-goo amiwadjanoowww Mommy! Mommy! Goo-goo ami meow ajdiwowwww.  Whoa! Mommy! MOMMY!  Yes, my ducky.  Mommy WATSCH.  You want some water?  Nooooo.  Yes, you need some water.  You need some watsch.  WATSCH.  Yes, I know.  You need some water. Mommy's going to get you some.  Noooooo! YES, my ducky.  Come on.  Drink drink.  Nooo! (whimpers)  Ducky.  You need to drink some water.  Look! Bobby (Bunny) is having some...Bobby wants you to have some. Yeah! Goooooood.  Drink drink."  On and on.  Every day.  Day in and day out.  I kind of love it.

...Playtime outside.  This evening we played outside for over an hour after dinner, until after the sunset.  At the outset, she wanted Daddy and Mommy to sit on a bench as she did the teeter-totter by herself.  All by herself.  So independent.  Later, when I was talking to one of our neighbors, she wanted Mommy's attention...just to have it.  Typical toddler.  And then she wanted me to hold her hand so she could walk on the balance beam, step up the mushroom stools, climb up, and fall backwards as I caught her on the way down (and then I spun her around and she shrieked with delight).  We did that at least fifteen times this evening.  And then as the sun was setting, she held both of my hands and led me to the far end of the big green park past the playground...away, away, away under a glowing half-moon.  Later, Daddy came to find us and she had a ball running back and forth to claim hugs from Mommy and Daddy, giggling and shrieking all the way.     Yesterday we did a bike ride and she fell asleep halfway through.  And this morning I took her to the lake to see swans, geese, and ibises.  She was so entranced.  She also wanted to walk on the red brick road on the edge of the sidewalk...and up and down the bridge...again and again...and then she wanted to walk backwards...and then she wanted to be carried (surprise, surprise).  

...Speaking of carrying...These days I'm carrying an extra 15 pounds anyway--and she's another 26 pounds or so...so that's about 40 extra pounds of extra weight a lot of the time.  But unless I really must, I don't force her to walk.  These days of carrying my girl are limited.  The days of snuggling with her while nursing, with her legs tucked between mine, for 30 minutes each morning...those days are numbered.  The days of her wanting MOMMY! to come watch her, hold her, comfort her, be with her, hold her hand, read to her, entertain her, sing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" ad nauseum to her,...those days will end, and all too soon.

...Family naps.  My favorite.  

...All the other stuff inbetween. Collecting acorns on the sidewalk.  Chasing firetrucks (and praying for them, of course).  Hunting meows.  Playing with glue, colored pencils, pens, and crayons.  Watching her carry that wooden hamburger around (or pull a train of her plastic hamburgers back and forth -- "beep! beep!" -- this morning).  The affection for the stuffies--soooo much affection for the stuffies (yessss).  Reading, reading, reading, little bookworm.  Playing on the piano, and having her invite Mommy to sit next to her (something new).  Teaching her to say please ("peas") and thank you ("gank-you"), and to show kindness, generosity, thoughtfulness, patience, perseverance, and obedience (that's the really hard stuff).  The snuggles and hugs and holding her hand.  

Pinch me because I'm too lucky, and though the days can be long, the years truly are short.  Thank You, dear Lord, from a truly grateful and content heart.

Dear Junior

​Dear Junior,

​Hi, my dear ducky.  Bright shining light in my life.  So much of who you are brings me life and joy:  

Your smiles and giggles.  Your mischievous glint in your eye when you raise your eyebrows, as if to say, "Check this out, Mommy..."  

Your enthusiastic koala-bear hugs, the kind where you hug my neck so tight and cling to me with your legs--you give them spontaneously and freely, and melt my heart each time.  

Your affection for Bunny Blanket, and the tender way you stroke his ears, give him heartfelt besos, and light up when you see him and get to drag him around (and how you take care not to drag him by his ears, but by his neck--good girl).   

Your tremendous affection for Daddy and Mommy, and how you are happiest when both of us are around.  You are more content with Mommy by herself versus Daddy by himself, but you love it best when we both are present.  

Your increasing ability to listen and obey.  You do best when we tell you in advance what's going to happen, and you tell us that you understand (your ability to nod and say "yeah" is very helpful!).  After that, you mostly don't get upset by whatever happens next.   And more and more, you spontaneously say "thank you" (which sounds more like "ganku") at the appropriate times.  :)

You are very particular.  It's genetic--I knew it!  You take after Mommy in that way.  You like things to be in their place, and you like to keep your hands clean.  You pick out a crumb on your tray at the start of dinner and hand it to Mommy for discarding.  A little too particular, but I get a kick out of it.  :)  And it comes in handy for other things--like how you always keep your crayons at the table, put away your toys when told, and put away your duckies (upside down) at bathtime.  Hehehe.

You are very, very sweet.  You love giving out hugs, you run to Mommy brimming with glee and love for no particular reason at all.  You love being held, and can hang around in my arms, content, doing nothing in particular, for a long, long time.  It makes me think that that's how God wants us to be in His presence.  Thanks for teaching me about childlike love, little one.

You are also very, very fun.  You love to hide and seek.  You love the unexpected.  You love to make games out of anything (you get that from Daddy), and you love to giggle.  You have been so blessed with a very fun and rich life, little one.  Turn it all to gratitude and good as you grow up.

I just wanted you to know.  Mommy adores you and loves you so much.  You are such a gift, and we give tremendous thanks to God for you!

Love, 

Mommy

Reflections, Part III

This is what happens when you're the parent of a toddler: gone is spontaneity; carpe diem is out, routine is in.  (Frankly, as fun as spontaneity is, I love routine.)  So it is Saturday morning again, Mr. Squire is at basketball (after letting me sleep in until 10 AM - GLORIOUS!) and Junior is napping.

And so much happened this week.  SO much.  Sigh.

Let's start with the single mom living with us.  We had a big talk with her last Sunday evening, and--thanks be to God--it went really, really well.  She was pretty receptive to everything we were saying, we set out our goals for her (she's cooking her first dinner tonight!), and generally gave her what I would call tough-but-loving encouragement.  And I think God really gave especially Mr. Squire (who was doing the bulk of the talking) a special patience and love that wasn't nearly as present during our private discussions beforehand.  God heard our prayers :)  So all that's good.

* * *

Then the rest of what happened last week happened... the Voice singer, the Orlando attack, the toddler and the alligator...oh. my. goodness.

We were not directly affected by any of these events, yet they loomed large in our everyday lives.  They weighed on our souls so heavily, and we trudged through the week feeling like we were carrying enormous burdens, but we weren't quite sure why.  Of course, I've been incredibly affected by the attack at work; everything has changed about everything at the office--from what we are doing, to when we are doing it, to who is doing what, and to who is covering for the whos that are doing what, and when.  

But the hardest thing has been just the sheer weight of collective grief in the community and region.  I will note that there has been tremendous comfort and encouragement in seeing the community come together, but there is still this corporate shock and mourning that is still raw and palpable from day to day.  I'm usually the bright and sunny, chipper lets-do-this worker bee at work... but this week, I was just so tired, and each day I thought it was later in the week than it actually was. I seriously thought Tuesday was Thursday--the week just seemed to stretch forever.  And then I slept 11 hours last night.  Because seriously: it was that kind of week.

It's hard to explain this situation to Junior, though I try, because she needs to know and we cannot (nor should we) hide the realities of evil in this world from our child.  I explain to her that there are sometimes people who hurt others in a big way, and sometimes even in the name of God, but that's not who our God is.  When she sees beauty, and order, and harmony, and compassion, and peace, and joy, and community--those are indicative of who our God is.  And when she sees discord, and grudges, and evil acts against others, and fighting, and shaming--those are indicative of the enemy.  And our job is to believe in God, and hope in Him, and reflect the things that show who He is.  (And also know that we all contribute to the evil in this world, and need Jesus to help us.)  It was a good teaching opportunity... but what a horrifically sad occasion to have a teaching opportunity arise.

The thing I've craved most this week is human connection.  Usually I bring my lunch to work and work through lunch so I can get home sooner, and my co-workers have to drag me out to lunch once in a while (or I have to commit to myself that I will go hang out with them). But this week, I found myself trolling the halls, looking for a lunch partner, every single day.  I just wanted to talk to someone, and process everything that was going on, and ... I don't know... feel better.

And then I missed, more than ever, our friends from our heart-home of New York.  I received a few sweet and thoughtful emails over the course of the week, which I appreciated so much.  I was actually surprised at how few people reached out; maybe they thought that because the attack took place in a gay Latino nightclub that we were wholly unaffected.  But the grief is widespread, and I don't know how else to explain it, but when something like this happens so close to home, it's just different.

Anyway, I miss my friends.  I miss my family.  We have a wonderful life here, and it would be perfect, except for the big missing piece of our beloved community.  And we are building community--and have been blessed in that respect--but it's just not quite the same.

Alas.

* * *

Father's Day is tomorrow.  Yay for fathers, and for those of us who have fathers in our lives who are worth celebrating.

I bought a card for Mr. Squire that features a big bear on a bicycle with a little bear in the bicycle basket.  It is so appropriate (SO appropriate!) because he always takes her to and from school on the bike, and she sits in a seat directly in front of him.  Everyone in our neighborhood recognizes the baby in the green helmet on the bike with her daddy.  

And she is, indeed, so so lucky to have Mr. Squire as a dad.  

He changes all her diapers without complaint.  

He makes her laugh when she is sad.  And when she is not sad.

He prepares her lunch, cutting all those mushrooms, beans, strawberries, oranges, and pieces of chicken without fail.  

He packs her lunch, making sure to include 2 cups (milk and water), 2 containers (fruit and lunch), and a half piece of whole wheat bread in her bee bag.  

He plays with her after school for 3 hours each day until Mommy comes home--taking her to the playground, chasing her around the house, helping her perfect the art of lounging, feeding and cajoling her into finishing the remainder of her lunch (while bribing with cheese and goldfish), helping her water Mommy's airplants, etc.

He constantly studies her behavior in an attempt to understand her better.  He knows that when she is not feeling well, she wants to sit in our lap and read "God Bless You and Good Night" (her book from Auntie Cze-Ja).

He cares for her so deeply and lovingly.

He teaches her new things constantly.

He shows love to her mommy.

He's the best daddy ever.  You're welcome, Junior.  Mommy picked a good one.  (Okay, okay -- time to be humble... you're welcome, Junior.  Mommy can't take any credit: God gave BOTH OF US a good one.)

Happy Father's Day, Daddy.  We love you so much.

Reflections, Part II

Well, this rarely happens... when Junior is napping and Mr. Squire is at basketball, and I am awake enough to not want a nap, and... I finally have the physical and mental space to reflect.  Feels nice.  :)

One of the things that we're challenged with is the single mom living with us (without her child).  Yesterday she put us on notice that her aunt in another state (who is caring for the child) told her that she doesn't need to rush in reuniting with the child; she should take the time she needs to restore her own life.

This puts a bit of a wrench in our plans... our plans had been to give her a home to stay in, for free, for 4 months so that she could get her life in order enough (e.g. find a place to live, move in, get things ready) to reunite with her child.  She has a job--a decent-paying one--and no substance-abuse issues, and she's clearly intelligent, so we figured 4 months should be sufficient.  Looks like she'll be with us longer than that.

But we can't have her live with us forever; that's not good for her or for us.  So it leaves us in a bit of quandary as to what to do next.  We never expected to essentially be parenting a teenager at our age (it's as if we had had a kid at 16!).  We (Mr. Squire and I) talked about it at length last night, though, and I think we have a go-forward plan... I just hope/pray that it works out and doesn't blow up in our face somehow.  

Starting next month, we're going to set monthly progressive goals for her that will build on one another (the ones we have in mind are:  wash dishes twice a week, and prepare a meal for the whole family once a week; set a budget for the future; attend a support group; wash dishes twice a week and prepare a meal for the whole family twice a week--and "look for housing options" will be on each month's goal list), and starting in Month 5, we will start charging actual rent that she will not get back (instead, we will subtract out what it costs for her to live with us, then forward the balance to a battered women's shelter or something like that).  

The thing is, if she's not going to reunited with her child, then...I guess the only thing we can really work toward is helping her gain her independence, since she claims that her ex emotionally abused her to the point where she couldn't make any of her own decisions.  So my hope is that by setting these monthly goals for her--and making her continued stay with us contingent on her meeting those goals--we can give her structure and incentive to do the things she needs to do.  I've never really dealt with someone who claimed to have PTSD as a result of emotional abuse, and I told her at the outset that we were here to encourage and support her and give her a safe place to heal and grow, but that we weren't here to be her counselors.

I feel like our role is to give her a bit of tough love and guidance, to teach her and not enable her.  I feel like so many voices in her life are just giving her license to wallow in her misery without a real step forward.  And there is a definite place for grieving and processing and working through that mess (and that's what counseling and support groups are for), but there's also an entire life that needs to be moved on with...and a child who is waiting for her mommy's return.

It's hard to know what is the right thing to do.  It's challenging to balance our sense of "come on, get with it" against our recognition that she needs compassion and mercy.  I'm not quite certain what the point of this exercise is, and we did kind of jump into it headlong without a lot of time to fully weigh the way it might play out.   But I'm sure God will help us figure it out...

Reflections

There's nothing like being sick--and spending more than 36 hours in bed over two days--to get me to stop and reflect.

And be thankful for health, and all the other days that have come and gone, without enough sleep, without enough decompression time, without enough exercise, (probably) without enough nutrition... without issue.

And be thankful that at least my child is healthy again, because seeing her suffer through a fever and a bout of hand-foot-mouth last weekend was awful, and the only consolation was that I was able to be there to hold her in my lap, the only place she wanted to be, all...weekend...long.

And linger a nice while on that thought, of little Junior on my lap.  I love it when she's on my lap.  She loves to climb onto my lap when I'm sitting in a chair.  She loves to plop down on my lap when I'm sitting on the floor.  She loves to walk up to me expectantly and look up at me with those eyes that say, "Pick me up, bosh?"  (Because "bosh" means please in Junior-speak.)  She loves it when Mommy holds her.  It can stop her from crying in a second, it can bring a joyful smile to her face (with an excited kick of her legs), it can make her squeal with delight, it can bring her to her safe and comfy space.  What a privilege to be the arms that hold this little one! I never say no, and I will carry her for an entire afternoon, through Costco, through the gardens, through the Science Center, whatever...because I know the day will soon come when I can carry her no longer.  Or she won't want me to.  These days are precious and limited, and I am enjoying each one.

And sign onto Facebook and consider the brevity of our lives here.  The number of friends, or friends-of-friends, or law school classmates, or family-of-friends who have lost their lives under the age of 35 is astonishing.  A lot of cancer and other health problems.  Mostly, actually.  The occasional freak accident.  All sad.  All reminders to enjoy each moment that we have.

Which...I mostly do.  But I feel the insidious monster of discontent creep in eventually, and it has been visiting me as of late.  Oh, who are your friends here, really?  Who's your bestie at work?  Oh, you don't have one?  You get along with everyone great, but no bestie -- even though nearly everyone else has a bestie, how about youuu?  And no mommy friends?  Well, no close mommy friends?  Well, that's what happens when you're a working mommy...no mommy friends for youuuu...

and on and on.

I could finish, but it's time for my next nap!

Pause

It's been one thing after another lately, and I just want to PAUSE...and reflect, even if just for a few minutes (because I need to pack for our trip tomorrow!).

Since my ten-day stint away from home for training, a lot has happened.  We bought a house (fewer than three weeks elapsed between the house going on the market and our closing), moved in, and I did my first trial.  Oh, and we took in a single mom to live in our home for the next four months (but without the baby, who is in a different state...long story).  Talk about...whew.

It's been good. 

The house has been such a blessing.  It is beautiful and practical, in the ideal location (for us), and came furnished (I know--whaaa???) in exactly the style that I love.  It came with stuffed animals (hello! Match made in heaven!), including an elephant that is the exact twin of Junior's favorite stuffie from her first daycare.  It came with the same drinking glasses that we received for our wedding but broke during our second move.  It has a little yard where I can plant wildflowers.  It has oodles and oodles of natural light.  It is perfect for us, and such an amazing blessing.  We are incredibly thankful at how generous God was in giving this to us.

The move was fairly uneventful...for me.  :-p  Mr. Squire the long-suffering servant leader took care of most of it.  Our third move in 20 months (and my 15th or so in 15 years).  And our last one! YAY!

Trial is still going.  But it is almost over.  

The single mom living with us was unexpected and sudden.  But we felt like God had given us this house just in time to meet her needs.  So it was a leap of faith (we didn't even know her last name until three days before she moved in), and so far things are fine. It's a stretching experience for me to share my emotional space with someone who isn't family; I'm an introvert and especially with working on trial, I'm just tired/preoccupied most of the time.  But it's been good and we continue to walk in faith that this is the right thing to do at this time.

In other news, Junior is super-fun and has finally decided that she's willing to wear sunglasses.  She is starting to talk more (more recent words include "hot," which sounds like "ahch"), is very expressive about most things, and is showing more interest in coloring (probably thanks to her wonderful teacher at school!).  She is also pushing boundaries more, but almost always does a great job correcting her behavior when you tell her "no, let's try that again."  She's a joy and a gift.  We are so thankful for her!

Mr. Squire continues to be the best life partner ever.  I think the stress of the move was hard for us, but now we're more relaxed and back to our usual selves.  :)

Unpause...packing time!

Fwd: Directions

Mr. Squire recently took a trip, leaving me alone with Batty for the first time since she started at her new school. She is only there part

​-​

time, so I never drop her off and I never pick her up. It is always daddy who does all of that. So, kind of to my amusement and kind of to my embarrassment, Mr. Squire sent me a very detailed message to outline what exactly I should do and how I do it in order to find my way around and keep her routine the same. It was another reminder of how much Daddy does for the family. :)

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: daddy
Date: April 2016
Subject: Directions 
To: EmDash

Make sure you have her cup for water, and her bee bag w/ just milk and another cup and a bib.

Walk in.  
Say hi to Ms C at the desk and ask Batty to give her a smile.

Punch in xxxxx  enter. (code for Batty)

Go thru the door to enter and take a left and go down the hallway.  Bathrooms are on your left.  End of the hallway.  Ms K is in the corner, and Ms L the next door on the left. 

As you enter,  drop off her watercup on the counter to your right (there is a bin).

Also, to the left of the door, there are cubbies.  Put her bee bag on top (have her help you).  You can ask her if she wants Po Po.  (Since it's the first time, I would bring Po Po to next room).  Go back out and downhallway toward exit.  Instead of exiting on right, take a left, and then the first or second door to the left is where before care is.  I'm not sure who is there on Friday, but I think it's Ms. H.

Sit down with her for 5 minutes or so.  Hand her over to whoever the teacher is for a hug, and tell her you will be back at 6, a little on the later side.

Good Luck honey.

Pickup:

Ring the doorbell.  Someone should come get you.  Sign out.

Punch in XXXXX to sign out.  

Give her lots of hugs. 

I would enjoy the pickup.  

Sometimes she needs a few minutes before getting on bike/ in car.  But tell her firmly after 5 minutes or so that you will give her milk when you get home and thru the garage.

Pictures from Mr. Squire

That (to him) basically sum up his week with Junior as I've been gone.

Hehehe.

I actually think they're pretty accurate.

Excerpt from MLK's Mountain Top Sermon

Delivered the day before he was assassinated:

Let us develop a kind of dangerous unselfishness.

One day a man came to Jesus; and he wanted to raise some questions about some vital matters in life. At points, he wanted to trick Jesus, and show him that he knew a little more than Jesus knew, and through this, throw him off base. Now that question could have easily ended up in a philosophical and theological debate. But Jesus immediately pulled that question from mid-air, and placed it on a dangerous curve between Jerusalem and Jericho. And he talked about a certain man, who fell among thieves.

You remember that a Levite and a priest passed by on the other side. They didn't stop to help him. And finally a man of another race came by. He got down from his beast, decided not to be compassionate by proxy. But with him, administered first aid, and helped the man in need. Jesus ended up saying, this was the good man, because he had the capacity to project the "I" into the "thou," and to be concerned about his brother.

Now you know, we use our imagination a great deal to try to determine why the priest and the Levite didn't stop. At times we say they were busy going to church meetings--an ecclesiastical gathering--and they had to get on down to Jerusalem so they wouldn't be late for their meeting. At other times we would speculate that there was a religious law that "One who was engaged in religious ceremonials was not to touch a human body twenty-four hours before the ceremony." And every now and then we begin to wonder whether maybe they were not going down to Jerusalem, or down to Jericho, rather to organize a "Jericho Road Improvement Association." That's a possibility. Maybe they felt that it was better to deal with the problem from the casual root, rather than to get bogged down with an individual effort.

But I'm going to tell you what my imagination tells me. It's possible that these men were afraid.

You see, the Jericho road is a dangerous road. I remember when Mrs. King and I were first in Jerusalem. We rented a car and drove from Jerusalem down to Jericho. And as soon as we got on that road, I said to my wife, "I can see why Jesus used this as a setting for his parable." It's a winding, meandering road. It's really conducive for ambushing. You start out in Jerusalem, which is about 1200 miles, or rather 1200 feet above sea level. And by the time you get down to Jericho, fifteen or twenty minutes later, you're about 2200 feet below sea level. That's a dangerous road. In the day of Jesus it came to be known as the "Bloody Pass."

And you know, it's possible that the priest and the Levite looked over that man on the ground and wondered if the robbers were still around. Or it's possible that they felt that the man on the ground was merely faking. And he was acting like he had been robbed and hurt, in order to seize them over there, lure them there for quick and easy seizure.

And so the first question that the Levite asked was, "If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?" But then the Good Samaritan came by. And he reversed the question: "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?"

Dear Junior

Dear Junior,

We are apart for the first time ever as Mommy goes on a business trip.  Ten days! We sure jumped in with both feet first on this. 

Mommy left on Monday and it is Friday evening.  What a long week it has been.  I'm so grateful that your grandparents (Mommy's parents) came to help Daddy out.  You've been having a lot of fun with them, and it has made me very relieved and happy to see you having fun in my absence.

You've been giving Mommy besos and trying to hug the iPad when we FaceTime.  It breaks my heart but warms it as well.  Thanks for not getting mad at me (yet) for leaving you.  I'll be back within a week.

In the meantime, Mommy has been learning a lot and practicing a lot of trial advocacy skills.  It's been an encouraging week; I'm learning a lot of the things I need to know to do my job well, and I've been seeing what my strengths are in the courtroom.  For the first time, I'm seeing what my gifts are in the courtroom, and I'm really experiencing the fact that God has prepared--and gifted--me for all of this. 

Daddy and I pray that for you all the time: that you would discover the gifts that God has given you and use those gifts to bless others.  It truly brings joy and meaning to life.

I miss you so, so much.  I can't wait to give you a gigantic hug, smother you with besos, and pretty much not let you go when I get home.

Have a great weekend, my little.  Mommy loves you tons.

Love to Junior,

Mommy

​

Lessons As of Late

It seems I experience spiritual growth in fits and starts as of late, and I am grateful because the last couple of days have brought bits of fits and smatterings of starts.  Some convicting, some illuminating--and all reassuring of God's love and involvement in my life.  He cares enough to speak to me, and for that I am always grateful, whether the speech brings encouragement, admonishment, warning, or direction.

Here's what I've been hearing lately:

Lesson of the Hi-Chew (taken from an email I wrote recently)

Yesterday Junior had a big bag of Hi-Chews and was taking all of the candies out and putting them back in.  She toddled around the room and when I asked her to share some with me, she did.  Then Daddy asked her to give Mommy a beso (since she has been refusing to do so lately; she just shakes her head), and instead she gave me three Hi-Chews.  She did that, like, three times.  :-p  So I ended up with a handful of Hi-Chews and no beso.  I told Batty that this was a good object lesson for our relationship with God.  God says He doesn't want our gifts and sacrifices; he wants our love and affection and heart.  He doesn't want the Hi-Chews; He wants the beso.

Easier to see now that I'm in the parent role how hurtful it is to God when I attempt to do stuff for Him, but don't also spend time and give Him my love and heart.  Doing stuff for God is great--but only with the heart there too.  Of course, I know Batty loves Mommy; I'd be a lot more stressed about this beso thing if she didn't cry out 3 times a night for me to hug her, and if she wasn't uber-clingy all the time on the weekends.  Haha.  But the Hi-Chew/beso thing made me think.

The Chaff and the Wheat, the Wicked and the Righteous

I've been listening to Matthew 13 in my slow slog through the Gospel of Matthew. I feel like I've been working on getting through Matthew for what seems like forever.  I don't advertise this, but in many ways the Old Testament is easier for me to understand than the New Testament because I often feel like I don't "get" Jesus.  I don't really understand the magnitude of what He did on the cross.  Like, I "know" that I'm a sinner and I need a Savior, and I know He died on the cross and rose again to conquer death, and because I believe that His death and resurrection paid for my sins, so I can have a right relationship with God, but... so often I don't feel that I really know what that means.

So then I read things like the Parable of the Sower in Matthew 13, and freak out a little bit in my soul when I hear about the fact that weeds and wheat are permitted to grow together, and it's only in the end times that Jesus will sift through them and pick one apart from the other in judgment.  I freak out because the judgment is so severe:  the chaff will be raised together with the good stuff, but cast away into the fire.  But I freak out only a little because Jesus talks about the wicked versus the righteous and when I think about whether I'm more wicked than righteous, mmm...I tend to think of myself as tipping on the scale of righteous more than wicked.

Ah, but WRONG! Last night (and yes, it was just last night that this clicked) I had an epiphany. And like many of my revelations about Jesus, they are late in coming and seemingly elementary to many of you. But they are relieving and dear to me because while I feel I have a strong grasp on the Father and the Holy Spirit, King Jesus just seems so elusive most of the time.

So the epiphany went essentially like this:  The references to the wicked and the righteous have nothing (directly) to do with my deeds here on earth (i.e. the metric by which I measure my own "more righteous than not" status).  They have purely to do with the state of my soul as tainted by sin, or not.  And Jesus's work on the cross and his subsequent resurrection took the dead, twisted, rotted weed of my soul and covered it with the likeness and newness of fruitful wheat--ripe for the final harvest.  He made me righteous, and not by anything I have done, but only through what He has done.  On the cross.

Simple, I know.  And why it took me so long to arrive at this, ...not sure.  It's one of my great spiritual struggles. There you have it.  I'm glad to have that piece resolved.

Notes from Today's Sermon

• God doesn't call us to remain within our community, just taking care of our own. He called us to do what He did: go out to others who do not believe, and find them, and seek them, and get them.  Intercede for them, invest in their lives, and invite them to join the community and ultimately to believe in Jesus.

• Our world favors the following hierarchy in terms of prioritizing our time: financial (earning a lot of money), intellectual (knowing a lot of stuff), physical (how we present ourselves to others), relational (how we relate to others), spiritual (how we relate to God).  And while all such endeavors have their own level of importance, perhaps the better order of priority for our counterculture as Christians should be the inverse:  first spiritual, then relational.  Then physical, then intellectual, then financial.   I don't have a lot of free time these days, with Junior on our hands and a job that is more manageable but still time-consuming (especially with my first trial coming up!).  And now that I've stepped away from private practice and am doing the work I felt God had always called me to do, the financial aspect has gone away a lot.  And I do feel that I've placed a much greater emphasis on spending time with people.  But in listening to the sermon, I was convicted by this concept of the temporal versus the eternal.  I've always had a dream of owning a magazine-looking house. Not a big one, but a very cozy one that is inviting and nice to be in.  One that will make people want to visit, and feel welcome when they do visit, and one that will provide great memories for our kids....But that's the thing:  it's not the house that makes the memories, nor is it the nice-looking decor that makes people want to visit.  I want to think that the slick kitchen backsplash, six-burner gas range, stainless steel appliances (seriously, where did these wishes come from--HGTV?!?!), the shiny wooden floors, the tall ceilings, the modern arches, the bright and airy layout, the cozy throw over that perfectly placed corner chair, the minimalist-but-sophisticated decor, the plantation shutters (ha!), the granite countertops (that never seemed to matter to me before I knew about them), you get my drift... I want to think that all that stuff is necessary to the making of a welcoming, inviting, cozy, good-memory home.  And it's not.  In fact, I could have all that stuff and have just that: stuff.  Without a home at all.   And there's the rub: true life is found in the spiritual and relational.  Not the temporal stuff.  So all this time I spend (and it's not that much, but it's still a waste) on Pinterest fantasizing over this stuff is...wasteful.  It's not where true life is found.  That is time I could and should be using on spiritual things:  writing an email of encouragement.  Praying for the needs of brothers and sisters.  Interceding for the salvation of friends and family.  Reading the Bible.  Meditating on it.  Being still and knowing that He is God.  

• The Gospel should drive us to spend our time, talent, and treasure on God's mission, for His glory.  Amen!

Dear Junior

Dear Junior,

Oftentimes I go through our days together as if I'm watching a magic show.  A magic show with lots of "crayons stay on table, please" and "not in your mouth, please" and "can you please share with Mommy?  No? Okay..." and wiping up seemingly endless yellow snot and the occasional poopy diaper (though Daddy takes care of 95% of those).  But magical all the same.  And I wonder if every mom feels as lucky as I do.

You make so many moments special, particularly when you flash your winning grin--with your teeth showing and your face all scrunched up and a giggle gurgling from the back of your throat.  You give me this face when I come get you in the morning.  When we lie down to nurse.  When you see me enter the room.  When you walk, because you realize that you're actually walking.  

You reach out for Mommy all the time.  Still in your clingy stage, and Daddy tries to reduce the amount of time Mommy holds you to alleviate my foot pain, but I keep telling him--I don't mind.  That's right; Mommy doesn't mind.  These years will be short, my little.  So very short. And soon you'll be too big for me to ergo to sleep at church and too heavy for me to carry to and fro.  So no, I don't mind at all.  Let me carry you whenever you reach for me, and joyfully and with gladness and gratitude.

And you're just plain busy.  It's often fun just to sit back and watch you do your thing:  pick up the poker chips and put them on the couch.  Then bring them to the table. Then bring them to and from a cardboard box on the floor in the living room.  Grab your baton and walk about as you carry on with the rest of your many tasks.  Visit the stuffies--Birdie, JJ, Froggy, Bunny Blanket, and Sleepy Sheepy continue to be your favorites.  You grab them with great excitement, then pat them lovingly on the back.  Then you carry them in one arm and continue on your merry way.  You like the bigger stuffies--ones that are half your size--so you look funny as you amble about with your treasured fuzzy friends.  Mommy can't get enough of it.

You do a funny thing with books: you just flip the pages back and forth with extreme interest.  And you attempt to write, but always with the wrong side facing the paper.  You shake your head no vigorously when we ask you questions.  Sometimes your no means no.  Sometimes it actually means yes, we think.  

I continue to watch with great amusement when you drink out of your straw cup.  It feels like such an achievement to have had you skip the sippy cup altogether (to avoid dental problems). Now I need to figure out how and when to wean you from sucking your thumb.  Oh, your left thumb.  That will not be easy.  You and it have been such close friends for almost an entire year now...

You're mostly obedient, though you do like to cry out when you don't get what you want sometimes.  That always makes me uneasy, but thankfully you settle down pretty quickly, and Mommy and Daddy encourage each other not to give in.  We remind ourselves that you need us to provide the structure that you don't know how to create, and creating that structure will give you boundaries that make you feel like life is safe and predictable.

You have an extensive palate.  Right now I think the only food you really shun is corn. Yellow corn. Poor, poor yellow corn.  You'll eat everything from dried seaweed to roasted mushrooms, roasted sweet potatoes (including the purple, white, Chinese, North Carolina medium, and North Carolina jumbo varieties we tried this weekend), green beans, spicy tofu, garlic anything, brown rice, avocado, yogurt, carrots, and all kinds of fruit.  But not yellow corn.    Oh well, more for Daddy!

You bring us endless delight, my little.  I treasure each day with you and am so thankful I get to be your mommy.  

Lots of love to Bathands,

Mommy