Roots...

My hair's in desperate need of a dye job.  Yes, I dye it...have for years...I'm going white.  Ugh...hate even saying it.  I have this new white streak in the front that is driving me crazy.  I guess that's what the fluctuating hormones of four pregnancies and stress of daily life will do to you.  These aren't expensive salon sessions...can't afford that...I'm just using the $6 box of hair dye from Target these days...usually applied very late at night which often results in some missed sections...low-lights, right???  Try as I may to cover up what's really there...it always comes back.  Roots have a stubborn way of doing that.  I wish sometimes I could invent a pill that would just make my hair stop growing...but grow it does, always exposing the true color (or lack thereof!) underneath.

He broke this off so I figured we'd use it in our photo shoot!!

As much as you may try to cover up, forget about, conceal, hide, alter, reinvent your roots...they are there for a lifetime.  It's the same with your family roots...I was pondering that deep thought tonight as I tried to bathe three unruly children who were throwing cupfuls of water at each other and at me.














Family history...heritage...values...the essence of who I am, the core of it all...those are my roots that won't ever disappear.  Loved ones may pass on, relationships may diverge, but the roots are always there, perhaps hidden, but always a part of me.  We can push them aside for a time, but eventually we all come to a place in our lives where we realize their importance.  Unlike the white hair I'm trying to cover up, I want my roots, my family roots, exposed and open for viewing.

Unlike the roots in my hair, I draw strength and motivation and inspiration from my familial roots.  The values that were instilled in me as a child and that I saw demonstrated by so many of my loved ones have carried me through storm after storm.  I don't just cherish them as distant memories, I am reminded of them daily, and strive now to bear up that legacy and begin to pass it on to my own children.

I read these verses in Jeremiah last night that reminded me of the importance of roots...roots that grow deep into the soil and sustain life even through the most harsh seasons of drought:

Jeremiah 17:7-8(NIV)

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord,

    whose confidence is in him.

 

They will be like a tree planted by the water

    that sends out its roots by the stream.

It does not fear when heat comes;

    its leaves are always green.

It has no worries in a year of drought

    and never fails to bear fruit.”

Nani gave Carter a good butt-whoopin' at tetherball tonight.  He's ready and itching for a rematch soon!

Free...

All dressed up and ready for church!

Her delicate fingers gripped the nail polish brush as she stroked it carefully over each nail.  Her brow was furrowed and mouth was clenched in concentration, making sure the hot pink color she had chosen was applied evenly.  She smiled as she made it to the final nail.  "Done!", she exclaimed with great satisfaction.  "Do you like them?"  How could I not?  It's not everyday I'm given a free manicure after all. Paint had pooled in the corners of my nails where too much polish was applied...other spots were not painted at all.

Easter Shopkins

I tend to be skeptical about things that are free.  Most of the time I feel like "free" isn't worth my while....it means "Lacking in quality"...."You get what you pay for"..."You've already paid for it by paying more for other things."

There is a certain mistrust when it comes to "Free."  I tend to feel like nothing ever really falls into your lap...that you have to work for it.  Of course my free manicure was worthwhile in that it gave my daughter great joy...and she felt affirmed in that she was able to do something for me...but was it the best manicure I had ever received??  Hardly.

One word has echoed in my mind today, this Easter Sunday....

Free

I have been offered a gift, a precious and life-altering gift.  There is nothing I can do to earn this gift.  No amount of work or money or good deeds or trying harder can make me any more worthy to receive it.  The gift is completely and totally, 100% FREE.  And this isn't one of your typical BOGO deals...this isn't a free gift you get after you've spent $1,000, or after you've worked for 20 years at your job, or the free manicure you get from a 6 year old.  This gift is priceless....it's stand-alone...and it's up to you to accept or reject it.

Christ is Risen!  Three words we exchange on Easter Sunday that carry a weight almost too deep to comprehend.  His free gift to me, to us, to all humanity...the chance to be redeemed...to be forgiven for our sins...to spend eternity with Him.  And it's really, totally, completely Free!  I have the free will to accept or reject this one-time offer.  I can't believe it's even being offered to me...ME!  This is a love I can't even comprehend.  It blows my mind.  It floors me.

The faith I was raised with...the faith I've seen demonstrated in my mother...my grandmother... is the faith I want to embody to my own children, the legacy I want to leave behind.  I've accepted the free gift.  Many times I stumble, I take the gift for granted...I forget what had to happen, Christ's suffering on the cross, a story I have trouble reading even to this day.

Today I am thankful for what has been offered to me, for Free.  Today I remember the price He paid so I could be set free.  Christ is indeed Risen...

Saturday...

I was listening to the radio today when my ears perked up...they were talking about Saturday...specifically the Saturday after Good Friday.  It's not really a day we discuss much or dwell on this time of year.  But it wasn't just another ordinary Saturday...no this was a Saturday for the record books.  This was a Saturday that epitomizes your worst day ever.  Jesus had just been crucified.  The man so many had called the Messiah...Savior of the World.  But now it was Saturday...he was gone...dead.

The disciples split up and fled for their lives.  Tears were shed...deep sadness had gripped the hearts of many.  All hope seemed lost...

This is Saturday.  I'm trapped in a cycle of mourning, of sadness, of discouragement.  It seems at times that hope is lost.  It seems there won't be another bright day of hope and happiness. But Satudays won't. .. can't... last forever.  Tomorrow is Sunday.  

"The Lord is my Shepherd... "  How many times I have heard those lines....they seem so casual, so easy to take for granted.

A masterful shepherd can often take care of trouble so skillfully that his sheep remain blissfully unaware of it.  So it is wise to choose carefully the one whom you will follow - your "shepherd". 

~Sarah Young - "Jesus Today"

Have I taken for granted the myriad of times He's shielded me from great harm?  Have I counted it all as luck or chance that I've made it this far in life?  Has the seamless and skillful handiwork of the Master been so well-incorporated into everyday life that I've missed His gentle proddings completely? Has He been working, even in this "Saturday" of my life, to teach me new things, to lead me through my valleys, to show me new mercies every morning?

I'm caught in the mire of Saturday...but I'm not without Hope...for tomorrow is Sunday.

Love Story...

I was changing out all the kids' clothes over the weekend and FINALLY finished up today.  It was a massive undertaking...hours of sorting, labeling, putting clothes into bags and bins, taking out clothes for the younger ones to use, making lists of things I still need to buy....Reese has no shorts, Carter needs Crocs, Lawson has no shoes that fit him at all right now!! (Thank you Carter for being off the growth charts at this age!)   It's funny how the older kids like looking through their old clothes, reminiscing how they once fit into something "that small".  I can hardly believe it when I see it either...how quickly the years go by.  How fast they grow and change...

We're coming off of a month of kids being sick, rainy dreary days intermingled with sunny warm ones, many sleepless nights....exhaustion, and more exhaustion.   And yet....  this week is Easter Week.  As we prepare for the Easter holiday this weekend, I can't help but be thankful for the many ways I have been...am being...blessed.

Submarine view of Pittsburgh

If I let myself dwell on the bad, there's plenty to find.  If I stay there for long I miss out on a lot of things that happen every day that I take for granted.  But if I train myself to dwell on the good, it's everywhere.  I'm living in the midst of an amazing love story.  

It can take some white-knuckled Bible reading to really dive into the Scriptures and see God's promises, trust in His plan, believe in His goodness, even in the midst of trials.  It can take some sweat-session prayers, bending the knee and bowing the head in submission to the King, imploring Him for answers and guidance, seeking meaning in the chaos...before that still small voice is heard.

I've grown over the past year too...in ways I was never anticipating.  Perhaps the Lord has shown me things I never would have understood had my life taken a different path.  But here I am...



If my personal growth could be measured the way we so diligently mark off every inch our children grow, how would I measure up?  Have I allowed my circumstances to shape me into a better person, or have they stunted my growth?  Have I forgotten my one, true Love?


I read this week that "It wasn't nails that held Jesus to the cross, it was LOVE."   And that one simple phrase hit me...reminded me...I am so loved.

Our sweet little Dalis

Flowers from Heaven...

 There is so much hope and newness that comes with Spring.

The bitter cold is finally over...the gray skies finally clear to a beautiful blue again...withered up leaves from last year's glory are pushed aside as new green shoots begin to poke through the soil.

Each day, I look out our front window to see tulips and daffodils, growing little bit by little bit.  They wait until just the right time each year to open.  How do they know?  The beauty and dependability and precision of this annual ritual amazes me anew each time I witness it happening.

I love to see the first flowers bloom in my beds.  They may not be the showiest, but there is always something extra special about the first flower of the year.  This year, as I've watched them grow, there has been a more poignant expectation...

About 5 years ago, for a Christmas gift, my brother Ed gave me two boxes of tulip bulbs he had brought back for me from Holland.  He traveled the world and was always finding unique gifts to bring back for me and the kids....that's just the kind of brother he was.  Every year that I see these tulips blooming, I remember they were from him...but this year it certainly holds a whole new meaning.

A few years back I took pictures of the blooming tulips and sent them to Ed, thanking him for the gift he gave me.  I can't do that anymore...the reality of that hits hard each time I see them.  It is a reminder to tell loved ones what they mean to you as much as you are able, to appreciate the time you have with them, and to never take them for granted.  I never imagined I would lose Ed...not so early in life...not before he got to witness the birth of his sweet daughter....I feel there was so much left for me to tell him, to share with him...there is much that I will never understand.  Living caught up in my regrets will get me nowhere... some days are just harder than others.  These are the days I lean most heavily on the Lord, glad for the peace He brings me when my world is in turmoil.

Today the first flower to open in my bed was one of the tulips Ed gave to me.  I thought it fitting that his was the first.  It felt in a way as if he had sent it to me.  I could feel today the same love from him that I felt the day he first gave them to me.  I know that each spring I will have this small thing to look forward to...from Ed to me....my little gift from Heaven.

Strength Training...

I'm an exercise enthusiast, some might even say fanatic.  I like to workout...genuinely enjoy it...6 days a week if possible, maybe even 7.  I've had gym memberships, played most major sports at some point, at least recreationally.  As I morphed over into parenthood, I discovered the beauty of the home workout.  I've tried SO many exercise videos...and I'm a Jillian Michaels aficionado.

One consequence of having 4 kids has been that my workouts usually don't start until after 9 pm.  For the girl who was never a night person, this was a HUGE adjustment.  But most nights, if you were to peek in my window, you'll find me faithfully exercising...

I like to push myself.  I've always felt that I should do the best I could at whatever I am doing, whenever possible.  When it comes to exercise, I like to feel that I am in the best shape I can be...  I love the sensation of pushing myself to my limit and the way I feel after a great workout.  It's exhilarating to reach new level's of fitness, set new goals and meet them...I hate it when I hit a plateau.

Pushing yourself to a new level of fitness is very much the same as pushing yourself to grow in other areas of life.  I had to start as a novice when I had my first child...I knew NOTHING about babies.  But step by painful step, I began to learn...through much trial and error.  Day in and day out I poured all my energy into raising my son as best as I was able.  And I've poured that same energy into the subsequent children, building on my knowledge with every one.

The kids will grow up and eventually move out.  My body will begin to deteriorate...I can already feel it happening.  Eventually my runs will slow to walks.  The weights I lift will be too heavy and start to collect dust.  But there is one area of my life that I can continually train myself in...there is a type of strength training I will participate in until the day I die....that is training in my faith.

Just when I think I've reached a new height in my faith journey, I am often plunged back down to reality by circumstances out of my control.  Just when I start to feel "wise" in my knowledge of the Lord, I'm brought to a new level of realization and start to understand how pitifully weak and small my faith really is.  Like waves on the beach, my life is so often dictated more by the ebb and flow of my moods and emotions, rather than by the the very bedrock of my being, the consistency and continuity of my faith.

But I try not to dwell on my shortcomings.  No!  I know that isn't a healthy place to be ...  I set my eyes on the eternal prize of Heaven.  I seek to know God more deeply each day through His word.  I train myself through the discipline of making time for Him, praying to Him, confessing my faults to Him.  He tests my faith in new ways as I journey on, pushing me to trust him during times I want to question everything.  He uses my weaknesses to make me stronger.  He forgives me when I hit a plateau, which is more often than I'd like to admit.  He motivates me to push myself, to strive for more, to feel that burn of exhaustion and know I've given it my all at the end of the day.

This training is no joke...It's the toughest workout you'll ever find...but the prize is infinitely worth it!

The Past...and the Present

We found my name on a brick.

 Carter, Reese and I took a trip up to Grove City for most of the day today so that they could participate in a Math Blast program that the college was offering.  They really enjoyed it (didn't hurt that the student teachers used cookies and M&M's to help teach their lessons!)

We ate our lunch in the new Student Union building and took a quick walk around campus so I could show them the women's dorm where I lived, the amazing Harbison Chapel and Rainbow Bridge.  It was really cool to be able to share a part of my past with my kids, to give them some small grasp of who I was before being their "Mom".  I think the thing that excited them most was seeing all of the mailboxes in the new mail hall.  A student who was sitting nearby got a good chuckle at their excited reactions to see that there were over 3,000 mailboxes. It's the small things sometimes...

 Walking amongst the students today certainly made me feel my age...it seems like eons ago that I was a student there.  I feel like it was a completely different life I was living back then...so naive was I to the realities that awaited me after graduation....  Life was so much more simple...so carefree, although I didn't think it was at the time.

I took the opportunity to walk around campus alone while the kids were in their classes...it was a rare chance to be alone, uninterrupted and just reflect on all that has been going on in my life.  I went into the chapel and was delighted to find I was the only person there.  Sitting in the back, gazing around at the soaring rafters...a place I spent many hours in over the course of my time there, a few tears rolled down my cheeks.  I took the opportunity to thank God for all He has done for me and asked Him to give me courage to face what is ahead.

 I remember well one of the very first sermons I heard in that chapel.  It was probably the first week of my freshman year and the chaplain was speaking on a passage found in the book of Esther and quoted verse 4:14, referencing Esther coming to her royal position "for such a time as this."  That verse reverberated in my soul today as I sat there...perhaps....perhaps right now God is allowing me to go through all the things I am specifically so that His will can and will be done in my life.  My "For Such a Time As This" moment could be now.  The last time I sat in that chapel, I never would have imagined my life taking all the twists and turns that it has...but here I am...this is my time...a time to be used by God in a way only He could have orchestrated.  I'm a weak vessel...I need a daily dose of His strength to get through this...but He promises me that.  My eyes are open wide now, my ears are tuned in for what He has to say.  I'm not going to drown in my own self-pity...the time is now.

Accept the call and move forward, He is telling me.  

Serenity...

Rainbow Bridge

Overlooking the Quad

On Rainbow Bridge

 After leaving the college we had a fun tour of Wendell August Forge.  The kids learned about this amazing art form and even got an oportunity to pound some metal of their own!  Such a great day!

Hot off the presses...

 We took a fun field trip to the Pittsburgh Post Gazette yesterday to see how the newspaper is made and printed.  The kids enjoyed seeing all the massive machinery in action.  Wonder if there will even be newspapers anymore when they have kids??

Lots of papers!!!

Largest printing press in the world

That is SOME paper!

Very loud in the printing room!

More paper!

Ohhhh, that paper....

Massive ink vats!