by Alanna
I forgave fall for heralding winter. I didn't want to enjoy anything like the end of summer, but autumn was so beautiful here it took my breath away. In the few weeks that our tree was brilliant red, before its leaves fell one night, I stared at it each day out of my kitchen window and whispered thanks to my Father for such beauty. I have loved fall. Loved stomping through leaves, loved collecting them with the kids, loved raking them up. Loved each drive because everywhere is bursting with color. Maybe I can store up some of this color in my heart and mind's eyes for the grey days to come.
I haven't forgiven winter yet. Snow may be beautiful, but barren trees and dark days are still not my thing. I read Psalm 84 recently before breakfast to the kids. On the next day Isa said "mom, you read this one yesterday," and I knew but told her it was a good one so I wanted to hear it again. It has all these beautiful statements in it, cries that echo my heart's cries. "My soul longs, yes, faints for the courts of the LORD" (2) And then how the birds find nests "...where she may lay her young, at your altars, O Lord of hosts" (3) But most of all, verses 5-7.
"Blessed are those whose strength is in You, in whose heart are the highways to Zion. As they go through the Valley of Baca they make it a place of springs; the early rain also covers it with pools. They go from strength to strength, each one appears before God in Zion."
Our strength is in Him, not us. The highways to Zion in our hearts, not in our surroundings or our circumstances. This Valley of Baca, this place of weeping, MADE INTO a place of springs. A place filled with pools, us going from strength to strength. The imagery is so beautiful. And I want it.
I know that winter is just a season. That SAD isn't the worst thing a person can struggle with. That this valley isn't unique. That my family isn't an ocean way but just a one night drive. But there are none the less valleys that I walk through, that we all walk through. And I want to turn this one into a place of springs.
I want our home and our family and my heart to be a place of beauty this winter. A place of pools where people feel like they are nourished and cared for. I want our home to be a haven of warmth and light and beauty when harsh winds blow outside. I want to lead my children by example in gratitude and rejoicing and intentional hospitality. I'm not sure what that looks like, but I want to trust that God knows and He has a plan if only my heart will rest here and stop whining for something different.
"For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor. No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly. O LORD of hosts, blessed is the one who trusts in You!"
Wednesday, October 30, 2019
Wednesday, October 23, 2019
To my eldest
by Alanna
Dear Isabella,
Happy Birthday! You are five years old today, and for some reason that feels to me like a huge milestone of parenting. In some ways I don't feel equipped to parent "school-age" kids, but since we've been doing Kindergarten for nearly two months already, I suppose that's irrelevant. I'm so thankful that God put you into our family. I'm especially thankful that you are our oldest, because you are mature and responsible in so many ways.
You are so helpful with your little brothers. You can get the baby a snack, bring clothes for him, keep him entertained. Twice lately, of your own initiative, I've noticed you successfully redirecting him when I was on the phone. Recently you've started helping so much more in the kitchen too- making sandwiches, measuring out the spices and mixing up the ranch, helping to frost your own birthday cake. Recently I was carrying a bunch of things out the door, and you were walking near me. "Mom!" you exclaimed. "Why are you carrying all those things? Let me help you." You have a gift for noticing what people need and are a born caretaker. Sometimes this comes with an unhealthy desire for control, but we are both working on that one you and me.
I see God working in your heart, lately in giving you a more tender conscience that confesses sin. I pray He maintains that in you, and ultimately gives you a new heart that loves Him. You have asked so many questions this past year, about death and heaven and hell and Jesus' death and what it really means. You have said that you are trying to trust God, and I pray that He gives you that faith. I don't think you are quite there yet, but I see your hunger to know and I praise God for it.
You still love Mr. Snow, whom you affectionately call "Mitty." You love collecting things, especially in bags or on shelves. You like to plan elaborate games, wrap presents up for people, make crafts on your own. You won't eat peanut butter, or almond butter, or sunflower butter; I finally acquiesced this year and started feeding you jam and cheese sandwiches. You still love all fruit, some vegetables, burritos and pizza. You discovered the pleasure of chewing gum a few weeks ago!
You are reading most every 3 letter word and some bigger ones quite easily already. You don't always like to be told what to do for school, but you do like doing "school pages" and coloring. You still are not a big fan of walks, but don't mind so much riding your scooter. You love to hang out with older kids, and usually gravitate most to the oldest girl in a family.
I love so many things about you. Your laugh, the way you incite your brothers to laugh hysterically with you. The way you care for people, your obedience, the way you love to learn and make new things, your generous heart. For your birthday today, you wrapped up "presents" in tissue paper for all of your guests and brothers. And didn't expect or receive anything from them in return.
Most of all, my beautiful daughter, I love you. I praise God for every single day of these 5 years He has given us together. You are a precious gift to me.
Dear Isabella,
Happy Birthday! You are five years old today, and for some reason that feels to me like a huge milestone of parenting. In some ways I don't feel equipped to parent "school-age" kids, but since we've been doing Kindergarten for nearly two months already, I suppose that's irrelevant. I'm so thankful that God put you into our family. I'm especially thankful that you are our oldest, because you are mature and responsible in so many ways.
You are so helpful with your little brothers. You can get the baby a snack, bring clothes for him, keep him entertained. Twice lately, of your own initiative, I've noticed you successfully redirecting him when I was on the phone. Recently you've started helping so much more in the kitchen too- making sandwiches, measuring out the spices and mixing up the ranch, helping to frost your own birthday cake. Recently I was carrying a bunch of things out the door, and you were walking near me. "Mom!" you exclaimed. "Why are you carrying all those things? Let me help you." You have a gift for noticing what people need and are a born caretaker. Sometimes this comes with an unhealthy desire for control, but we are both working on that one you and me.
I see God working in your heart, lately in giving you a more tender conscience that confesses sin. I pray He maintains that in you, and ultimately gives you a new heart that loves Him. You have asked so many questions this past year, about death and heaven and hell and Jesus' death and what it really means. You have said that you are trying to trust God, and I pray that He gives you that faith. I don't think you are quite there yet, but I see your hunger to know and I praise God for it.
You still love Mr. Snow, whom you affectionately call "Mitty." You love collecting things, especially in bags or on shelves. You like to plan elaborate games, wrap presents up for people, make crafts on your own. You won't eat peanut butter, or almond butter, or sunflower butter; I finally acquiesced this year and started feeding you jam and cheese sandwiches. You still love all fruit, some vegetables, burritos and pizza. You discovered the pleasure of chewing gum a few weeks ago!
You are reading most every 3 letter word and some bigger ones quite easily already. You don't always like to be told what to do for school, but you do like doing "school pages" and coloring. You still are not a big fan of walks, but don't mind so much riding your scooter. You love to hang out with older kids, and usually gravitate most to the oldest girl in a family.
I love so many things about you. Your laugh, the way you incite your brothers to laugh hysterically with you. The way you care for people, your obedience, the way you love to learn and make new things, your generous heart. For your birthday today, you wrapped up "presents" in tissue paper for all of your guests and brothers. And didn't expect or receive anything from them in return.
Most of all, my beautiful daughter, I love you. I praise God for every single day of these 5 years He has given us together. You are a precious gift to me.
Monday, October 14, 2019
complaints
by Alanna
Kids are so often a miniature of us. Our sin we try so hard to hide, all spat out ugly. My four year old oldest sighed after dinner one day recently and said (I paraphrase) "Mom, I'm just having a really hard day. First I was whining because I didn't want to give away that hat, and then I was whining because I didn't want to take a walk. And then we had a dinner that I didn't like, and then my throat started to hurt." She wasn't confessing sin, just explaining how she was having a bad day. I tried to help her see that the only actual bad part of her day was her own sin, and a sore throat at the end of it (maybe from all the whining?)
But I couldn't believe the mirror I saw in her. What do I say at the end of my days? Is it all complaints? And aren't my days usually made hard by the simple fact that I am whining about things that don't deserve whining about? To be sure, mine would be lots more mature and would go something like this. "First I was whining because it took so long to get hats and coats on everybody. Then I was whining because nobody took a nap and I wanted a break. Then nobody like the dinner I cooked and then....blah blah blah."
I am praying, over and over again, for gratitude. For a heart that doesn't murmur. For thanksgiving. And I will practice thanksgiving too. Because it's not just our hearts that determine our words, it's our words that shape our hearts.
Kids are so often a miniature of us. Our sin we try so hard to hide, all spat out ugly. My four year old oldest sighed after dinner one day recently and said (I paraphrase) "Mom, I'm just having a really hard day. First I was whining because I didn't want to give away that hat, and then I was whining because I didn't want to take a walk. And then we had a dinner that I didn't like, and then my throat started to hurt." She wasn't confessing sin, just explaining how she was having a bad day. I tried to help her see that the only actual bad part of her day was her own sin, and a sore throat at the end of it (maybe from all the whining?)
But I couldn't believe the mirror I saw in her. What do I say at the end of my days? Is it all complaints? And aren't my days usually made hard by the simple fact that I am whining about things that don't deserve whining about? To be sure, mine would be lots more mature and would go something like this. "First I was whining because it took so long to get hats and coats on everybody. Then I was whining because nobody took a nap and I wanted a break. Then nobody like the dinner I cooked and then....blah blah blah."
I am praying, over and over again, for gratitude. For a heart that doesn't murmur. For thanksgiving. And I will practice thanksgiving too. Because it's not just our hearts that determine our words, it's our words that shape our hearts.
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