Soccer Ball!

Visit from Great Uncle Ron and Great Aunt Pat

The kids thouroughly enjoyed a visit from Great Uncle Ron and Aunt Pat last week. The minute they stepped in the door Zachary started up a conversation with G. Uncle Ron and started giggling at him.


















Zoe had fun playing with her goofy singing bunny with G. Aunt Pat.

Perspective

“How can you listen to people’s problems all day long?” is a question I get asked frequently. “Doesn’t it depress you?”

The truth of the matter is, I just don’t think of it that way. The way I see it we live in a world that is pretty messed up and as a result, a lot of messed-up stuff happens. Whether I listen to people’s problems or not, the “messed-up-ness” of the world is still there. It would do no good for me to stick my head in the sand. If I ever pulled it back out and wiped the sand from my eyes, the messed-up-ness would all still be there. Nothing I can do will change the bigger picture, and since I believe in Biblical prophecy, I also believe that the “messed-up-ness” will continue to escalate until God decides He has waited long enough for His beloved to figure out that it will not work to deny Him, or even worse--to curse Him, that we cannot fix the messes we’ve created on our own, and that trying do so only contributes more to the messed-up-ness. The best I can do in the meantime is answer the tug He has put on my heart to provide counsel to those in the midst of the messed-up-ness. If there is anything I can do to help a person decide to stop contributing the messed-up-ness or pick up the pieces from being on the receiving end of the messed-up-ness (both tend to go hand-in-hand), that is what my work, and my passion, is all about.

That being said, occasionally I have a day where I have to listen to some stuff that truly jars me. Yesterday was one of those days, and perhaps the first time I’ve left a day of work feeling like I wanted to throw up. I felt relieved to settle into the privacy of my car for the long commute home where I could shed some tears. I don’t understand all the disgusting stuff I hear about; I cannot digest how children can be so de-valued and treated as if their lives are completely worthless. But that is the world we live in. Sometimes it hits a little close to home if it involves a little girl the same age as my own Dear One. That's when I take some deep breaths, and thank God for my Precious Ones and feel overwhelmed by the inherent value and worth of their little lives, as if somehow I could make up for the rotten, disgusting, sordid lot of all the mistreated children by loving and cherishing my own even more.

I held it together by imagining the reward of a child who has gone to Heaven and gets to be with Jesus and experience being loved and cherished, perhaps for the first time. I pictured lots of mistreated children crawling into the lap of the King and being snuggled and loved and held close and valued in a way so much more deeply than even healthy, well adjusted parents can do. Then I prayed that in spite of my own shortcomings that God would help me love and value my own children more deeply every day, and I hurried home, dropping my belongings in the doorway as I rushed to hug my Beautiful Ones.

World of Make-Believe

In the world of a toddler, nothing is ordinary. My daughter has demonstrated her limitless imagination over the past several months, and the things she comes up with are fascinating. In her world, an empty clothesbasket becomes a “fishing boat” in which she can climb and pretend to fish for whales on the Oregon coast. Her nightstand is a stove and a counter on which she makes “supper” (usually pancakes). Her lamp (a Winnie-the-Pooh relic that used to belong to her daddy) is the supplier of ingredients for the pancakes as she pinches on Pooh’s ears and adds mysterious invisible flavorings to her yummy meal. Then she hands me an invisible pancake and warns me, “It’s very very hot, so be careful!”

A stick in the yard is a fishing pole and the flower bed is the pond. Her tricycle is a ride to the zoo, or sometimes the jungle, both of which exist at the end of our driveway. The neighboring homes and trees become the locations of various wild animals.

Oven mitts under each foot on the kitchen vinyl become “ice skates.” The ottoman becomes the check-out stand at her imaginary “Stuff Mart.” On her toy cell phone, she calls her “best friend” and holds a complete (one-sided) conversation.

If only my own pretending skills were as keen. I would pretend that there weren’t mountains of laundry always needing to be done, that I didn’t still have 18 pound of baby weight to lose, and that I was getting 10 hours of solid sleep every night.

Contentment

Contentment is a sense of existence that far too often seems to elude people. Our culture tries to ensure this by suggesting that we always need to strive for bigger, better, more. From bigger homes to bigger cheeseburgers. From better cars to better spouses. From more money to more possessions. It doesn't matter what our culture keeps us longing for as long as we keep longing and never never find ourselves content.

Lately I most often find myself at reflective checkpoints throughout each day just thinking that I've got it so good that it would be pure sinful gluttony to even consider wanting bigger, better, more. I just don't think Life can be any bigger, better, more than it already is without spoiling it all. It's like a handful of chocolate kisses that fulfills a craving in its optimal dosage--but to consume the entire bag ruins the whole thing.

Each time I hold my baby boy in my arms, look into his endearing cherub face, and hear his peaceful sighs is pure satisfaction. Each time he smiles at me, giggles at my silly antics, coos and practices using his new found vocal abilities is Life as perfect as I could imagine. Each time my daughter offers me hugs and kisses, tells me I'm her "best friend," or sings me a lullaby is happiness in peak performance. Every silly thing she says, funny expression on her face, and goofy antic is yet another "best moment ever."

I have the two most beautiful children on the planet, a husband who loves me in spite of myself, just the right balance of work and motherhood with a career I love and enjoy, no material need that goes unmet--a beautiful home, cars that get me from here to there when I need to go here or there, and food to fill the all the bellies that live in my home. Anything bigger, better, more would be an illusion just like the ones our culture tries to sell on us. There is no bigger, better, more. There is only what you have in the present, and the perception you take on it.

I know I would not have come to perceive Life this way without the two littlest people (and biggest blessings) that live in my home. Something about having children just changes your perspective--for the better. In spite of a culture that tries to convince me otherwise, I do believe I am living Life in its optimal dosage. To get distracted by wanting anything more would most certainly spoil it.

Balloons!

My Beautiful Babies