Sacrament of the Mundane

I was told recently that it's sad that I'm using my writing talents for such an ultimately useless topic as theology.

I guess I should consider it a compliment that I am perceived to have "talent"...and that my ramblings could even be considered theologian-ish.   Not bad for a barely educated housewife I suppose.

It did make me think though.

Should I be writing about something other than the trivial topics of life, death, love, family, and eternity?

Those topics do tend to make people uncomfortable.

I suppose I could stick to writing about housekeeping, recipes and gardening.

It would be safer and more comfortable

but you know me too well.   I don't do safe or comfortable.

Today I'm going to smash the two worlds together.  Instead of categorizing this post as either ordinary secular house-wifery or matters of theology I've decided that for me the two are intrinsically linked.

As I trudge through each day with it's endless stream of diapers, laundry hampers, and slimy dishes it's easy to feel like nothing more than a maid with no pay.

  I often feel that there must be something more valuable, more extreme, or more radical than pulling weeds and dispensing time-outs.  

Doesn't God have something grand for me to do? 

If only I had less house work and more kingdom work.  

Less time with kids and more time with God.   

 I am not free to do nearly as much "missions" work or church ministry as I would like.

As a full time mother, home-school teacher, and farmer's wife...I don't have time or money for those "mountain top experiences",  conferences,  fellowship outings,  or serene moments in some exotically divine location to connect with my Creator.

Sometimes all this leaves me feeling like I've been benched.

God reminded me today that the two worlds of the domestic and the divine are not as separate as I often think they are.

Each bit of drudgerous labor can be an act of worship.   God doesn't require great things of us, He desires us.  The great things sometimes happen as a result.  

I can choose to be in the presence of ,and in communion with God, from the moment I wake up with a little finger tapping my forehead saying "mommy wake-up, mommy wake-up, mommy wake-up..."

to the minute I drag my weary self to bed.

It is a very good thing  that "God with us" isn't confined to worship conferences and hours devoted to intensive Bible study.

I meet God while I kneel over the tub to scrub out the dirt ring.

I pray for endurance while I wipe up spilled milk.

I discover  fleeting moments to read God's word, like nuggets of gold, hidden throughout my day.

With each load of laundry I fold and batch of dishes I wash I offer myself up in a most non glamorous, inglorious, undramatic, seemingly insignificant act of service.

I bask in the presence of the Holy Spirit, who is gracious enough to meet me in a messy house filled with rowdy kids, who shows me just how strong he is when I feel so weak.

Even a hectic day can be infused with joy,  peace and purpose.

Each day can be  a sacrament.  An outward sign of an inward grace.  A mysterious significance.

Something sacred.

Each night that I tuck my 4 little ones into their beds I am filled with gratitude  (partly because my ears are so completely saturated with noise and nonsense that I want to rip them from my head, and the thought of an hour without children makes me giddy) but mostly because I am thankful for another day with them.

 I am thankful for the great privilege and responsibility of raising a new generation.  Four people that I pray will shine light further into dark territory than I ever can... in a generation that may face more persecution than we will ever know.  That is terrifyingly humbling and a challenge beyond my ability.  It is a calling I don't know that I'm equipped for.   This is where I learn to trust and lean on the One who calls me.

So, with each story I tell, with each bottom I wipe, and with each moment I stop to listen to the tales of a child....I am not just providing childcare.  I am preparing a battalion.

So you see,

my day may seem like nothing more than a repetitious monotony of runny noses, muddy feet, and crusty dishes....but, shhh, that's just my cover.

 I'm doing kingdom work on the down low.

I Love my Quirky Kids

"Do not disturb playing video games".

This shirt should say 

"do not disturb I'm obsessed with video games."

More specifically my new/old game boy that my cousin gave me.

Miss sentimental is enjoying her cozy new quilt.  

Thanks Auntie.

You okay under there Roman?

No he's not injured...

or being punished in some bizarre illegal way.

The day this was taken was an hard day.

He was moody,  melancholy, and fidgety.

Somehow he discovered that this helped him feel better.  

His own little decompression, self regulation chamber.  

After the chair experience  he spent time lying under an overturned coffee table.   

He was devastated that I wouldn't let him take the table to bed and sleep with it on top of him

...on the top bunk.  

He asked me if I could  make him a bean bag the size of a blanket so he can sleep under it.

 That sounds like a LOT of beans.  Whatever works.

Some days they make me so proud to be their mom.  Some days I wonder if we'll all survive.

Either way...gotta love 'em.

Just look at those faces.

The Mercy Quilt

A quilt lovingly, painstakingly, patiently cut, stitched and embroidered.  

Hours spent kneeling.  Hands cutting fabric and a spirit deep in prayer.  

Boxes full of seemingly useless clothing salvaged,  a reminder of a life as vibrantly complex and contradictory as the mismatched patterns and colors stacked and waiting to be sewn.   

The hum of a machine that once belonged to the owner of the clothing now being used by an only daughter to sew a quilt for a granddaughter.  Two sets of freckled hands, two women with an ability to create beauty, united for a moment.  

Three generations being stitched back together in one quilt.

Grief untangled like thread woven  through knotted generations....   

 Severed mother/daughter relationships going back 6 generations. 

Women broken under their burdens.

Curses uttered with painted lips.

 Scars well masked and covered from sight.  

Daughter wounded and abandoned

turned to Mother who wounded and abandoned.

Each one tries, Lord knows she tried...but the well was dry.

  

Each woman sought to fill the well with something.

Like patterns laid on top of fabric each generation imprints their own pain on next.

Patterns are difficult to alter.  What has been cut is hard to mend...

but not impossible.

God is intricately piecing lives back together.

Grace.

Mercy.

Love.

Regeneration.

Hope.

Stitched into each square.

Random and uncharted beauty.  

Memories of women long gone.  

Forgiven, loved, and freed from the chaos they caused,

and the carnage they chose to overlook.  

Reality forgiven,

to free the future.

Bitterness, longing, hurt released.

Fabric embracing three generations of women who  never once stood in a room together. 

3 generations of females who never celebrated Christmas in the same house...

are now bonded in this quilt.

A mother.

A daughter.

A granddaughter.

A reminder of God's mercy

and renewal.

Mercy that we all so desperately need.   Mercy that we can now freely give to others. 

New beginnings,

with new patterns.

Beauty out of suffering.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ,

he is a new creation;

the old has gone, the new has come!

All this is from God,

who reconciled us to himself through Christ

and gave us the ministry of reconciliation:

that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ,

not counting men's sins against them.

And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation.

We are therefore Christ's ambassadors,

as though God were making his appeal through us.

We implore you on Christ's behalf:

Be reconciled to God.

God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him

we might become the righteousness of God.   

2 Corinthians 5:17-21

Redemption.

"I took you from the ends of the earth,

from the farthest corners I called you.

I said "you are my servant" I have chosen you 

and not rejected you.

So do not fear, for I am with you;

do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you and help you;

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand"

Isaiah 41: 9-14

"Therefor, I urge you brothers, in view of God's mercy,

to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God-

this is your spiritual act of worship.

Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, 

but be transformed by the renewing of you mind.

Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is -

his good, pleasing and perfect will."

Romans 12: 1

Kids who still get excited about escalators go to the big city fair

Yesterday was our first time going to "The Ex"  the annual summertime fair/ carnival/ chance to wear your short shorts, cowboy boots and fanny pack.

Sadly I don't own any of those things and really didn't fit in all that well.

We began the day by arriving in the City bright and early to take my sis-in-law and her son to the airport. 

They have spent the last month visiting from their home in Seattle...although after the first couple weeks our living situation is more like co-habitation rather than a visit.  We were one big household of eight.   People had the hardest time figuring out our crew.  Two kids that just didn't match the other three or appear to match the adults, 2 women and 1 man.  I wanted a shirt that said " No we're not sister wives...we're a sister and a wife"  

It was sad to say goodbye but it is nice to be back to just us.

We spent the day doing some shopping, eating out, visiting my Grandma and waiting for the fair to open it's gates at 3pm.    We just happened to be in the city on the opening day so we decided it was the perfect chance to check it out.  

The kids were all great...there were no tantrums thrown by child (or adult), no one got lost, no one was assaulted or kidnapped by a creepy clown... it was a raving success.

Escalators may have lost their luster after this outing...

{at the airport, sad that Auntie was leaving}

Cotton candy helped them to forgot their grief. 

Sorry Brook ,cotton candy wins.

Roman couldn't get enough of the thrill rides.  Finally his height caught up with his desire for adrenaline.

Aili tolerated a few.  She surprised me actually.  Can you tell by the look on her face that she's getting braver? 

Miss Cece, the animal lover, enjoyed the petty zoo.  

 Not so sure that the animals enjoyed her as enthusiastically.

Roman loved reptile world.  He was in tactile euphoria.

Speaking of euphoria, look at Roman's face in the pic below.

The Dad is not so sure....

This is the ride that hoists them all the way up to the clouds and lets them free fall down toward the earth easing them into a grinding stop before the moment of impact.

I wish I could have captured (with my little crappy point 'n shoot camera)  the look on Roman's face as he re-entered the earths atmosphere.  Shear shock and horror...that dissolved into a demented giddy grin.

He bounced and shrieked his way off of the platform  "That was awesome! I thought we were dead for sure!"

My husband and his spine weren't quite so impressed.

Me and my Littles on the carousel.  The only ride I went on.   Somewhere around the time I became a mother I stopped enjoying rides and began to loath them.  I don't know if child birth changed my equilibrium or just increased my survival instinct over my desire for a thrill.  It is quite a phenomenon really.

It was Miss Cece's first ride.  She smiled ear to ear the whole time.  

Yes, that is my head in the lower right corner.  

I really love family fun days.  

Today we're celebrating our 15th anniversary by fixing our septic pump.   

I am happy to report that after 3 days of no functioning septic system we can now shower, do laundry, wash dishes, flush toilets....

It was a great gift. 

Who needs flowers and chocolates when you can have a new poo pump?  

We were contemplating leaving the kids with Grandma and Grandpa and taking little drive into town but as of this morning the hubster has a throat full of razor blades, and glands that make him look like Frankenstein.   

It appears that between sewage and sickness our 15th won't be very romantic.

Oh well, if there is one thing I've learned in 15 years it's that flexibility, a sense of humor, and a lot of mutual grace is the only way to survive marriage.   Putting the kids to bed early and snuggling up on the couch to watch a movie sounds good too.  

Time for a new kitchen

I have been thinking that I need to invest in a new kitchen. 

One that is just the right size.

With all kinds of doors that open and close.

After a week of using this loaner kitchen I am realizing that buying a kitchen might be a great investment.

It would definitely add value to our home

and hours of creative playtime.  

Have I mentioned how much I'm loving having a little girl around the house again.  

Doll strollers, tea sets and Little People have all come out of storage.  

Next will be the princess dresses and tiaras.  

Swiss Chard, Goony kids and Family memories

A peak at some of this years garden and Silas in half his pajamas.

Foraging for breakfast in the Swiss chard?

A nice little hiding place...the mosquitoes like to hide there too.

 The kids are loud.  The house is a mess.  The laundry won't leave me alone.  The raspberries need to be picked almost everyday.  We're going through food faster than trips to town can keep up.   Life as usual.

We're keeping cool with Mr. Freezies...lots of them.  We use them as bribery actually.

Our household of 8 has meshed together quite well for the last month.  

It will be strange not to have them here next week.

I was just peaking at last summers posts with our Seattle relatives.  Last summer was their first visit to Canada and our first time seeing our nephew.  They have all grown SO much since last year.  Well, except for the amazing shrinking Auntie who has lost 100lbs in the last 2 years and just keeps dropping.  Every time I see her she has shrunk a few sizes!  You can reminisce with me here and here if you want to.  

Only 3 days left with our summer visitors.  It will be nice to try to restore some semblance of order and routine to our household...although I'm really going to miss having another live adult human to visit with during the day (not to mention help me with all the above mentioned tasks).   Please don't leave me...

This is my cutie sis-in-law and me enjoying some quiet time at the end of a day. 

Late evenings are my favorite. 

The three of us adults have had a lot of good belly hurting laughs , movie nights, and  story telling to fill in the gaps of all the missing years.  Too many late bedtimes.  

It's been a good summer. 

"Silas is Drowning!"

Today I'm feeling thankful for this boy.

He keeps me on my toes and forces me to stay humble as a parent.

His silly antics, goofy grin and frequent "I wub you mama" make up for the drama about food and shoes...or anything else that isn't particularly perfect.

I was reminded a couple days ago just how fragile life is.

I was also reminded how God watches over his little ones.

I am thankful for an Auntie who happened to notice the top of a blonde head bobbing near the surface at the deep end of a neighbors pool.   Just in time.

My husband, my sister in law Brook and our gaggle of noisy excited kids were all getting ready to go for a swim.  The weather was hot making tempers flare as little ones scrambled to find shoes and towels.   

Relieved I shoved them all out the door.  

I enjoyed a moment of peace as I buckled the baby into her car seat and drove off in our SUV to visit a good friend and her newborn baby girl.  I went bearing the gift of home made soup and armed with my camera.  

As I enjoyed my relaxing little visit with a friend and snuggled with an itty bitty brand new baby, my kids cooled off at a neighbors pool with their Auntie and their Daddy.   

I had  hoped I would beat them home so I could  help my husband with the drippy, wet, chaotic aftermath of swim time.   When I pulled up I noticed that they were already home and that the kids were showered and in their pj's.  I was impressed by their efficiency.

Silas came running down the driveway to meet me in his red sleepers shouting 

"Mommy we're home, I did something really dangerous but Auntie saved me!"

Used to wild 4 year old tales I smiled and said something like "oh dear, that was nice of Auntie".

It wasn't until I met the somber looking adults inside that the rest of the story unfolded.

Silas had been wearing his yellow life jacket while everyone played, swam and took turns jumping off of the little diving board.   This summer was the first time he was brave enough to join in the jumping.  He did his silly flips, splashed into the water and then doggie paddled his bouyant yellow body over the the ladder. 

Because he is a scrawny skinny little boy he gets cold quickly, even with a wet suit.  After some swim time Nathanael took our shivering little boy to a bench at  the side of the pool to get warmed up.  I had packed along a fleece sweater knowing at some point he would want to wear it, even with the heat.   Silas insisted on removing the cold wet life jacket and replaced it with his warm fuzzy sweater and a towel.   He sat happily bundled up while the others continued their horse play.  Nathanael checked on Silas a few minutes later and asked if he wanted to come back in the pool.  Silas assured his Daddy that he wanted to stay on the bench.    

Minutes later, no one noticed him get up, take off his sweater and walk toward the deep end of the pool.   He walked bravely to the end of the white board and jumped off forgetting that his skinny little body was no longer buoyant.   

Like all the times before he plunged into the water but this time he didn't pop back up.  He paddled and struggled to get his face above the water but only the top of his wet blonde hair broke through to the surface.

As he struggled quietly and unnoticed in the deep end of the pool his Auntie who was on the other side of the pool just happened to glance that direction.  It took a couple seconds to register who she was seeing and what was happening.   Her first thought was to call out to her brother but he was so surrounded by screeching, rowdy kids climbing all over him that  it would take too much time to try to get his attention.  In those quick seconds she decided to start swimming with her eyes focused on the struggling 4 year old boy.

It was probably only seconds later that she made it over to him but by that time he had stopped his fight toward the surface and was slowly headed for the bottom of the pool, pencil straight and perfectly still.  His open eyes stared through the water looking at nothing.  She grabbed him under his tiny armpit and kicked for the surface pushing his  body up over her head so he would reach oxygen before she did.  

As she surfaced she expected him to gasp for the air he had craved, cry , and cough but he didn't do any of those things.  He remained limp and not breathing.  She screamed  "Nathanael, Silas is drowning!" and pushed him up onto the edge of the pool.  

Nathanael swam over to the side of the pool where they managed to convince him to breath again.  Water ran from him mouth as he took timid breaths.  

Once assured that he was recovered and breathing properly they packed up and came home.

As bits and pieces of the story were pieced together for me,

the tears and trauma showed on Brooks face.  Stress and worry looked like weights on Nathanael's shoulders.  I felt guilty for feeling numb.  I wasn't there for those moments of fear and panic.   It seemed like only a strange story that couldn't be reconciled with the ornery hungry little boy whining for dinner.  

It didn't hit me until later.  

We were minutes away from losing a child or having him severely altered.   It can happen so easily, in a pool full of people. 

One child quietly slipping beneath the surface, unnoticed until it's too late.

I am so thankful that Brook was prompted to look in the direction of my struggling son.   I'm thankful that it wasn't his time to leave.   I'm grateful for a Heavenly Father who sends his angels to guide and protect.   I'm thankful for a  God who knows each of the hairs on our head and sees beneath the surface of the water to a little boy who forgot that he can't swim.  

"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father.  And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  So don't be afraid;  you are worth more than many sparrows." Matt 10:29-31