I Call Him "Little Man"

I wonder why it is that I refer to Simon as a small adult male human, but never refer to Abigail as "Little Woman."

Anyway here are three of my recent favorites of Simon C.





His You're Not Feeding Me Fast Enough Face
Who, I ask, can take this face seriously?

I get so tickled by the face. I start laughing and feed him even slower. It backfires.

Light

I look for the stars. Watch the rise and set of greater and lesser light. Marvel at the universe on fire.




We sting lights. Needles, branches, ornaments illumined. Corner sparkles where tree is set.


I light candles. Signal time together. Adding warmth, joy, intimacy to the time together.

All to remember the true Light. He who created light. He who illuminates, chasing darkness. He who warms hearts made cold, grants joy to hearts broken. King who comes desiring intimacy with the poor.

Falling Asleep

Simon flings his ankles to his ears sucking the pacifier furiously as the blanket is draped over him. Flinging himself to his side reveals his back and causes the blanket to cover most of his face. His eyes roll back in his head as his eyelids droop till heavy he heaves a sigh and resigns himself to sleep. He doesn't fight it. He gets tired and wants to go to sleep. He has developed a routine. He goes with it.

Abigail loads her arms with whatever she might need to stay entertained. She asks for songs and tucking and more water. She visits the living room till she knows another staying-awake trot will land her in serious trouble. She pulls books from the bookshelf covering her bed, surrounding herself with stuff. It is a war, an all-out fight. Inevitably she loses, collapsing blankets draped willy-nilly, legs or head precariously near the edge, heavy, deep breaths. She has developed a routine. Sleep pursues; she flees till sleep overtakes.

How I love them in the very differences that make them who they each are. What a privilege to mother them, to know these two who God has poured His creative energy in that I may be blessed to share their lives.

It Has Always Been, It Is Now, It Is to Come

We've been working through this Advent with a Jesse Tree. And I am struck with a simple reminder.

God has always been the Savior.
In all the stories.

Cursed is the ground. Difficult are your relationships. Hard is your work.
Yet, Adam and Eve are spared.
The deep was opened. The rains came. 40 days. 40 nights. Mountains were covered.
Yet,God closed the door. God remembered Noah.
Pharaoh's home infected.
Yet, Abraham leaves wealthy. Sarah's virtue intact.

I see the Savior nestled in a manger. I hear the prophesies--Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Prince of Peace. I know the story. Mary heavy with child travels with Joseph. Bethlehem. Wise men. Angels. Shepherds.

Immanuel.

I see God doing His work. Salvation imparted over and over to the moment of incarnation. Salvation completed in resurrected God-man returning for His own. Still we wait. Every day advent.

Saturday Snow

This morning it was snowing. This afternoon it was snowing. We had stew for lunch so we could

Go Sledding

Belated

Dearest Abigail,

This year went so quickly. From three to four. You have changed so much. I love you so deeply.

Your personality is blossoming. I am getting to know you. The you God created you to be. It is fun to watch you grow.

You bless my life.

Happy Birthday, my girl.



Love,
Mommy

When to Quit

I knew when I was pregnant with Abigail that I would be a stay-at-home mom. It had been in the plans. It was why I was able to work part-time in a job that I was passionate about. It was why we were careful to live on Chris's paychecks.
I planned to volunteer at the place I had worked. Having a baby didn't mean that I couldn't still be involved in the community. It didn't mean that I couldn't maintain relationships with the children I had spent three years with.

Did it?

Yes, I learned It did mean that I couldn't come back. I had been in charge. The kids saw me as the authority, the expert, the final say. My presence in that building made my replacement's job more difficult. It made the transition more difficult for the kids. It made my decision to leave more difficult.
I couldn't go back and not be in charge. I compared. I made judgments. I worried over what was no longer mine to worry over. And I felt guilty for leaving when the next person was doing things that I saw as very wrong. I'm not even claiming that they were wrong, but that I viewed what they were doing as wrong, or not the best.

I am in the middle again. Recently, the leader of an organization I am a part of stepped down. A new woman is in charge. More recently, I abdicated my role in the leadership of the organization. And I find myself in the same position. And doing the same things.

How do you know when it is time to retire more than your leadership?