The "Big Kids"

My girls are blessed with an awesome family all the way around. They have grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, and "surrogate" family to many to count.

But there is a special group - a uniquely awesome group - that I've probably taken for granted much toooo often. 

.              (pictures courtesy of Lydia 😉)

These "big kids", as Lydia calls them, have turned into young adults way quicker than I could have ever imagined ... And as they grow and graduate and move on to new adventures, it makes me pause to realize how blessed we are to have them around.

This crew lugs around my kiddos - and always has. They've carried on-the-verge-of-meltdown kiddos who didn't want to leave a fun place to my car more times than I can count. Often they've taken pity on me trying to visit with another adult and whisked my girls away to entertain them without ever being asked. 

They help fix plates are dinner time, push swings, offer hugs and tickles a plenty. Goodness knows they've ran their share of races. Sometimes they even dress up as the Easter Bunny for me.

.  (It's Isaac in the suit here .. Sam has been too!)

They've been dragged on many trips and never (audibly) complain. They swim in cold water so I don't have to and can keep the littles laughing and playing for an amazing amount of time.

They've embraced many activities for the sake of my kids that other teens might have rolled their eyes at. 

And often they even let little hands help open their presents.

They've given my kids bottles and had baby food and toys thrown at them. They tell my kids "no" and "stop" when needed and settle toddler squabbles like champs. They embrace our chaos and laugh at our noise. They rarely say "no" to being followed around, and while I'm certain we drive them crazy at times, they keep coming back around ... And if that's because their parents drag them, they hide it well with the amount of love they freely give.

Most importantly, they are the best role models around. My kids see them at church. They see them jump to help others without being asked. They see them hug their grandma and shake hands with strangers. They see them lead prayers, sing in choir, march in band, play sports, and get recognized for good grades. 

And my girls idolize them. They want to be with them and they want to BE them. Time with them is the coolest thing going and I've dried tears many times over them going to college and that "we won't see them all the time" 😳

I like to think we're good for them too. We sure enjoy cheering them on in all their exploits. And, someday, when they are awesome parents who aren't scared of spit-up and tantrums, they'll have us (at least partially) to thank - ha.

But the truth is, my girls are getting way more given to them by this crew than they may ever have the chance to repay. And so am I. So, our squeals of delight when we see them coming, our hugs and (sometimes slobbery) kisses, and hand drawn pictures will have to be our thankyou for now. 

Well, that, and the promise that I'm doing my best to raise my little kids to be at least almost as awesome big kids to a new generation of littles someday. ♥️

Bible Class

Ever since the Covid scare began to take force enough that church had to change some, my girls have been missing Bible class. I'm thankful that our congregation was able to continue meeting (though with heavy accomodations for a time) so we didn't miss out completely on gathering with the saints, but every single Sunday (and sometimes multiple times on a Sunday) I'm answering the question "Do we get to go to class today?"

 My girls love church. They love seeing their family and friends. They love singing. They love the idea of worshiping God. If we took out that whole me telling them to be quiet for parts thing, they would love it even more.

They don't not love the "quiet time" parts because they are bad kids ... They feel that way because they are little kids and don't yet understand all the quiet parts. Sermons are mostly over their heads (though Lydia is getting big enough to catch stories from some) and they aren't always able to attend to a long prayer. It's why having them there is so important to me - so that they can learn these pieces as they grow. 

But, I think that's why they love, and miss, class so much. In class, they DO get all the parts. The stories are told on their level. The activities engage their busy hands. The songs stick in their hearts and make them think. It's Gods word given to them on their level. And, right now, while they miss interacting with their friends and teachers, I think they are also missing the part of going to church that feels like theirs as opposed to "the grown-ups".

How important is it for me, then, to give them God's word on their level? For me to help them find ways to praise Him that are meaningful to their young hearts?

Extremely. 

Learning about Him now - loving Him now - praising Him now - is how they are going to learn yoove to keep doing that forever.

Learning on their level, singing songs they understand the words of, doing activities that help them understand God's word better ... That's how they grow in their knowledge and understanding. 

That's why they love Bible class, and why it's so important to them. It's also why they love reading the stories of the Bible - because stories make since to them. It's God in a way thy "get".

So here's to more intentionally giving them God on their level ... Because I love nothing more than watching them grow in this way.

Moments

Moments are a funny thing to me. They are so incredibly fleeting, and yet manage to have such a lasting impact. 

Sometimes they fly by without notice, wasted on some frivolous thing. 

Sometimes we wish we could get them back.

Sometimes they drag sloly in anticipation or dread.

Sometimes they slip through our fingers as we frantically try to hold onto them.

Sometimes they keep us awake at night, replaying themselves over and over again.

Sometimes we don't realize their worth until they are long past. 

Sometimes they are not so powerful in their individuality, yet overwhelming in their accumulation.

Sometimes we forget them. 

Sometimes they stick.

I know you have moments you're thinking of. You know I do, too. 

One moment my daughters played happily. One moment they faught.

One moment I handled parenting gracefully. One moment I was distraught.

One moment I was focused and purposeful. One moment I frittered away.

One moment I prayed would hurry by. One moment I sure wished would stay.

One moment to gather my bearings. One moment to let go my restraint.

One moment my future self brightened. One moment my reputation may taint.

One moment my heart swelled with pride. One moment humbled me again.

One moment I realized an important thing ... One moment to the next itself lends.

One moment I work for the next one. One moment I build one each time.

One moment does not show you all of me ... But the sum of my moments defines.

Visible Decisions

Today we went to Elephant Rocks with family. It was a great (if sweaty) day. We all loved climbing and exploring. Thanks to the ones with us, Lydia got to climb fast and high and I only yelled "stay close to Uncle Isaac or Daddy!" like 72 times.

It was nice to get out and you know I love capturing the moments. A lot of good pictures came out of this day... but here is one of my favorites.

I love what you can see at first glance: my brother-in-law exploring with my 3 favorite girls. But I love the story you can't quite see even more.

You can't see that it was the end of our exploring at Elephant Rocks and that, therefore, our determined explores were getting tired.

You can't see that the water was close behind me (and the camera), or that Josh and I had strategically placed ourselves between the girls and said water.

You can't see that Raina was *supposed* to be standing by Lydia and Emma ... And even HAD been standing there until she decided to bolt away. You can't see that we had coralled her back, but only that far ... Because right then she was to stubborn to go be in the picture.

You can't see that her ornery little brain had clearly figured out that my hands were busy taking the picture of Emma and Lydia and therefore may possibly be slower to grab her.

But, by the look on her face you CAN see that she had figured out Uncle Josh was the biggest threat to her "escape attempt" to get closer to the water. 

And, you can see Josh's smile ... So at first glance, you might have missed the stare down. But look again ... It's there. 

Here is Raina and Uncle Josh having a moment as Raina decided if she would listen to his word of caution to stay close. 

I don't often get to capture the moments where my kiddos are thinking through important decisions (largely because I'm usually busy navigating those moments with them). "Will I listen and obey this person?" is a big decision for a 2 year old - and here - by chance - I got to capture that decision being made.

I love the fact that I could trust Josh to nab her if needed let me pause long enough to take this adorable picture of Lydia and Emma.

And the fact that Raina trusted Uncle Josh enough to decide to listen to him and not bolt again? That I love even more. 

I'm so thankful for the other people in my girls lives that they know they should listen to. The people that help me let the girls experience adventure all while being kept safe. I'm thankful for people who make my girls listen and help teach them the right way to do things. 

And, the fact that they can do it all with a smile even through the "stare downs" and catch them if they had chosen wrong and not listened? That's just bonus awesome. 

Helpers

Today I needed to prep for a couple yard projects (not so much the fun kind, more the functional kind). With daddy working, my helpers and I headed out. 

We stained picnic tables. We chased kittens away from said picnic tables. We stained chairs. We restrained parts that were *accidentally* sat on... Phew.

Then we started removing landscaping to prep for some dirt to be brought in ... We moved rocks, we dug plants that had to be moved, we shoveled gravel....

And I almost started this post with the statement "I love working with my girls." .... But that isn't always true. I don't love every minute. I could have stained the tables and chairs faster and more evenly alone (and probably with less mess, too). Three shovels working in a small place at the same time (and with Raina... 🥴) was more stressful than I had imagined. And by the time we'd gotten to rock hauling? They alternated savaing worms and taking a break.

....a break I eventually had to stop working to save the kittens from 😉.

And don't even get me started on the last 15 minutes when they found mud to play in. 🤦🏼‍♀️ I was totally on board with mud pies ... But I may have raised my voice a little as I took the hose to their hair (their hair!) before they came in the house.

Just when I may have started doubting my "the girls and I can get this done together!" attitude, I looked back at this guy powerwashing for me. 

This guy who only stopped a couple of times to fill up the gas tank and once to save a kitten from a tiny 2 year old when my hands were covered in picnic table stain. This guy who could outwork a lot of people by the time he was 12.

...and I know from experience he didn't get that way by sitting around watching my parents. He learned by doing, by being involved. 

So, no, I don't love *all* the moments of having my girls work with me. But I sure am thankful for them. 

I'm thankful for the time and opportunity to teach them how to do things and to show them how to work hard. I'm glad I get to be the one to help them find the balance between it's great to get dirty working, but maybe not so great to cake each other's hair in mud.

I'm glad I get to involve them and encourage their desire to help and learn. I'm glad they want to sing "Moana songs" while we dig up plants and talk about all the colors of the rainbow we could have been painting the picnic table to "make it look much more awesome" than the wood stain I was sticking with. 

And when Lydia called Raina over to help her dig "This root needs teamwork sis!" .... That's just the icing on the cake.

...and someday, when they are teens and can out work me ... I'm pretty sure I'll be thankful for that, too😉😉.

Good Soil

Sunday morning my brother-in-law preached a wonderful sermon. It was a topic I'd heard sermons on before, but for some reason (possibly because my girls were actually being quiet and still, therefore, allowing me to listen....) I was able to think deeper this particular morning.

The topic was "The Parable of the Sower" from Matthew 13, and you can listen to it here. It's a good one, I promise!

This particular Sunday morning as I listened about the types of soil, I tried to make personal application by thinking about which type of soil MY heart is. The more I thought about it, the more thankful I became that God is willing to offer forgiveness.

I am on a constant journey to be the good soil at the end of the parable. In fact, I can tell you that most of the time I feel my heart IS the good soil. 

But sometimes, in far toooo many moments, I fall short.

Sometimes I am busy, or distracted, or simply don't understand something, and God's seed gets snatched or blown away before I allow it to take root (Mt. 13:4).

Sometimes I get excited about God's word and act quickly ... But don't give enough time and effort for things to take root, causing me to give up on, or lose sight of something before seeing it to the finish (Mt. 13:5-6).

Sometimes I have all the best intentions but let the cares and distractions of the world choke and beat them out (Mt. 13:7).

There have been days - seasons even - where my heart has got "stuck" being one of those types of soil. Because, as Josh points out in his sermon (that I really *hope* you listened to), what allows my heart to be the good soil from Mt. 13:8 is me making the choice to respond to God's word the way He intended. To use it the way it was intended to be used. To study it, and learn from it, and internalize it, and use it, and share it. It's a choice that needs made daily. It's a response that needs to be consistently made.

That choice isn't always easy. Sometimes I don't take the action I should. Sometimes I'm not thoughtful enough or patient enough. Sometimes I allow myself to get distracted. Sometimes I simply fall short.

How thankful am I for God's grace that allows me to make it through my weak moments so that I can repent and find my strength in Him again. How thankful am I for the people who make me think deeply and remind me to keep growing. How thankful am I each new morning for another chance to do better, to be better, so that through better soil, God can give an increase.

Mrs. Blackwell's Cookies

The other day I made lemon cream cheese cookies. They are my favorites ... Especially after being frozen for a while. They are light and delicious and full of nostalgia. You see, they are Mrs. Blackwell's cookies, and I'm pretty sure they taste like love.

When Heather and I were little we would often go with our parents to visit Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell. We'd sit in the living room visiting and playing with some old, big wooden trucks they had in a toybox, and, after some time, Mrs. Blackwell would head into the kitchen and come back with a plate of cookies. Sometimes, if it was a surprise visit, they'd still be cold as she had just pulled them out from the freezer. When we went Christmas caroling or trick-or-treating we might even get to bring some cookies home - that was extra special.

I think often of Mrs. Blackwell's cookies. Sometimes it's because I'm craving them (they really were delicious!), but more often it's because I'm craving that cozy living room and the much loved company. Those cookies to me represent love and welcome and hospitality. They bring me back to sitting on the floor surrounded by a roomfull of love. I can almost hear Mr. Blackwell talking about the cows or sharing a story about his sons ... Mrs. Blackwell updating us on what "those grandsons" were up to and asking Heather and I if we had any songs to sing them.

And the best part? I think *literally anyone* could have walked into the Blackwell's living room and been surrounded by the same quiet conversation, easily offered love, and probably fed a cookie or two as well. That's just who they were ... And they were wonderful.

I'm confident that always having cookies ready to serve was an intentional plan Mrs. Blackwell had, and I'm sure it wasn't always quite as effortless as it seemed. Wise women are like that, you know. However, I'm not sure she could have known how much of an impact she was making on a young me. I'm not sure she knew that years in the future If be making her cookies and telling my daughters all about her while I slipped a tupperware container full of cookies into the freezer for later.

 I'm not even sure she, or my parents, could have predicted that the Blackwell living room would still be a huge influence on my idea of hospitality. But, they just might have had some suspicions because it was a scene that was set repeatedly - one I wish I could have fully appreciated in the moment as much as I do now. 

 

I learn a lot from my memories of Mr. And Mrs. Blackwell. While I don't often have a container of homeade cookies ready to serve and my living room is currently louder and more chaotic than theirs ever was, we always have snacks and we're always up for a good conversation (especially if you can multi task and play baby dolls at the same time - ha). 

Mrs. Blackwell's cookies were delicious and I'm thankful my momma passed me the recipe, but her demonstration of love? That I pray I can duplicate as closely as possible.