by Alanna
Dear little one,
It comes that time of year again
to wish you happy birthday from halfway across the world.
You are seven today.
Although for you, your birthday is past
and soon you will be waking up to a new morning.
I thought of you all day,
while going through the everyday.
I don't miss you now
the way I did before
because you are so grown up
and I don't know the boy you've become
I only have these memories of you small
in my arms so fragile
and then running to me laughing
after God grew you so.
I do wonder where you are today
what your birthday celebration was like
if you are happy and if you know
how loved you are
by so many.
I pray for you every night
with baby girl
and my other little boy
Praying that God blesses you in every way
that you come to know Him
and the incredible miracles
that He has wrought in your life.
I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
I love you. Always.
Friday, May 20, 2016
Saturday, April 30, 2016
Lessons from the weeds
By Mary
Apparently weeding is something that ought to be done year-round in South Carolina. We have a green fence all along the bottom from the weeds that sprouted and grew through the "winter" months while I watched with my tummy growing bigger and thought "I should do something about that. Tomorrow." Finally, post pregnancy, I did do something about it. It was easier than I thought it might be because the ground there was so soft, and I got one of those nice little prong tools to get up the roots. But the stain I think is probably there to stay for the long haul.
After I pulled those weeds, I began noticing all the other smaller weeds scattered around and set to work on them, a little every day. And I never really could seem to get ahead of them, even with my daily routine. Then there was a thick patch close to the house of some kind of weed I spent awhile trying to identify. It was so abundant in that particular area and seemed like it was starting to spread. I found out its called dollar weed and tends to grow in overwatered places (which explained its heavy presence right under the eaves where all the rain drips down, because apparently in the Carolinas hurricanes are fairly standard but gutters are not?) It also grows best where the grass is fairly thin, not thriving. These things also grow on one little stem above ground that tend to just break at the stalk, not the root when you pull on them. I hate them.
The weeds became my own little set of parables, how quickly lies can take root in our thoughts, attitudes become habits. How you can't just try to pull them out while leaving the good grass sparse. You need to cultivate the true, the lovely, the noble, or all other efforts are ultimately fruitless. You can't continue to overwater. You can't just try in your own strength, you must soften the soil, use the right tools.
And in the end, we're all stained from our sin. But God washes white.
To my baby girl
By Mary
You're four months old already, pushing five. I truly don't know how time flies by so quickly.
You're the dearest thing. You watch everything quietly, intently. Sometimes I'll look over and catch you ducking your head with a huge smile on it after catching a glimpse of one of us, seeing the dog walk by, or watching your siblings play. I'm sure it's just because that sweet little curly head still gets heavy sometimes on your wee shoulders, but it honestly looks like you're so happy you could burst and that's the only way to contain it.
You are so tolerant of your big sister and brother clamoring for hugs and kisses and smiles from you, sorely neglecting to give you any kind of personal space, and generally abusing you with the utmost love-you even seem to like it all most of the time.
You're so content and cheerful, you talk with the sweetest coos, laugh the cutest belly laugh, but sometimes you'll just cry with the saddest of sad faces, tears welling up in your eyes (which remain a mysterious and indescribable color for the time being)
Everyone asks how life is with three of you dear little monsters and I always say that it's no harder than two except for the logistics occasionally...when taking you all out of the house somewhere or in those moments where you're all three hungry and making it well known while somebody (or two) needs changed and somebody else spilled something the dog wants to lick but shouldn't and the phone is ringing too. Because other than that, you're just easy as pie.
Sometimes I try to warn myself not to get too comfortable with such a happy little camper-who knows when you'll hit a crazy phase and I'll bemoan these precious months with you (just like I'll one day I'll bemoan the crazy phase too) But no matter what somehow I know you'll always be mi Carina, my little darling. I love you.
You're four months old already, pushing five. I truly don't know how time flies by so quickly.
You're the dearest thing. You watch everything quietly, intently. Sometimes I'll look over and catch you ducking your head with a huge smile on it after catching a glimpse of one of us, seeing the dog walk by, or watching your siblings play. I'm sure it's just because that sweet little curly head still gets heavy sometimes on your wee shoulders, but it honestly looks like you're so happy you could burst and that's the only way to contain it.
You are so tolerant of your big sister and brother clamoring for hugs and kisses and smiles from you, sorely neglecting to give you any kind of personal space, and generally abusing you with the utmost love-you even seem to like it all most of the time.
You're so content and cheerful, you talk with the sweetest coos, laugh the cutest belly laugh, but sometimes you'll just cry with the saddest of sad faces, tears welling up in your eyes (which remain a mysterious and indescribable color for the time being)
Everyone asks how life is with three of you dear little monsters and I always say that it's no harder than two except for the logistics occasionally...when taking you all out of the house somewhere or in those moments where you're all three hungry and making it well known while somebody (or two) needs changed and somebody else spilled something the dog wants to lick but shouldn't and the phone is ringing too. Because other than that, you're just easy as pie.
Sometimes I try to warn myself not to get too comfortable with such a happy little camper-who knows when you'll hit a crazy phase and I'll bemoan these precious months with you (just like I'll one day I'll bemoan the crazy phase too) But no matter what somehow I know you'll always be mi Carina, my little darling. I love you.
blessings
by Alanna
Having two kids just fifteen months apart seems to bring comments from people. Some positive, some negative, and always questions. Are you going to wait for the next one? Are you going to have more at all? Have you ever heard of natural family planning? You know there's things you can do right? I have always believed that I'd just have as many kids as God gives me. But lately I feel pretty alone in this view, and it makes me wonder if I'm crazy. Maybe I didn't realize that I'd be able to get pregnant again so fast, even while breastfeeding. It's one thing to say you trust God and that kids are amazing, and another thing to put that into practice when your body feels so weary caring for a two month old and you are taking a pregnancy test, just to be sure.
Just when I had been wondering if anyone leaves this up to God, I overheard an encouraging comment from an older lady at our prayer group. She stepped into a conversation about fertility awareness and gently pointed out that it is God who opens the womb. And He is trustworthy. Yes, He is. And I really believe it. Crazy or not, I believe that God creates life. I know, God gave us wisdom. I know He gave us the ability to have knowledge about our bodies and what is going on, when we are fertile and when we're not. But no matter what we may think it is not us who creates life. We don't decide when to have a baby, and birth control methods can fail. God is the author of life. It's what His word says. He is not only the Creator and the Sustainer and the Giver of strength when I'm weary. He is also the God who gives good gifts.
I've heard the arguments, that this verse was written back when children were an asset, contributing more to the household, etc. But I believe that it reveals God's heart. God's heart for children, reflected again when Jesus welcomed them into His arms. And I believe it too. That children are a blessing. That we are blessed to have a household full of them. That God will give grace for what He gives. That I don't have to try to be in control. That I don't have to fear. Whenever my next baby comes, and however many come after that, I want to welcome them with open arms. To be a testimony to the world that God is good and He gives good things. That He opens the womb and that He is trustworthy. That children are a blessing!
Having two kids just fifteen months apart seems to bring comments from people. Some positive, some negative, and always questions. Are you going to wait for the next one? Are you going to have more at all? Have you ever heard of natural family planning? You know there's things you can do right? I have always believed that I'd just have as many kids as God gives me. But lately I feel pretty alone in this view, and it makes me wonder if I'm crazy. Maybe I didn't realize that I'd be able to get pregnant again so fast, even while breastfeeding. It's one thing to say you trust God and that kids are amazing, and another thing to put that into practice when your body feels so weary caring for a two month old and you are taking a pregnancy test, just to be sure.
Just when I had been wondering if anyone leaves this up to God, I overheard an encouraging comment from an older lady at our prayer group. She stepped into a conversation about fertility awareness and gently pointed out that it is God who opens the womb. And He is trustworthy. Yes, He is. And I really believe it. Crazy or not, I believe that God creates life. I know, God gave us wisdom. I know He gave us the ability to have knowledge about our bodies and what is going on, when we are fertile and when we're not. But no matter what we may think it is not us who creates life. We don't decide when to have a baby, and birth control methods can fail. God is the author of life. It's what His word says. He is not only the Creator and the Sustainer and the Giver of strength when I'm weary. He is also the God who gives good gifts.
Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate."
I've heard the arguments, that this verse was written back when children were an asset, contributing more to the household, etc. But I believe that it reveals God's heart. God's heart for children, reflected again when Jesus welcomed them into His arms. And I believe it too. That children are a blessing. That we are blessed to have a household full of them. That God will give grace for what He gives. That I don't have to try to be in control. That I don't have to fear. Whenever my next baby comes, and however many come after that, I want to welcome them with open arms. To be a testimony to the world that God is good and He gives good things. That He opens the womb and that He is trustworthy. That children are a blessing!
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
hope
by Alanna
There's been so many different things on my mind to write about, so I'm hoping to blog a little more often these coming weeks. But we'll see. I've decided to blog about hope tonight, because I haven't been feeling much of it lately. Just a little story that I don't want to forget.
We went to visit my mother-in-law a few weeks ago. She and Isa picked flowers in the backyard for me, while my husband worked on her lawnmower, blessing her as usual. In her house she has various plants and flowers, but this time she pointed out one to me in particular. She doesn't speak fluent English but she told me that she had this plant for two years, and it never had any blossoms. She had given up on it. But just when she was going to throw it in the trash, it blossomed all in a day- six if I remember right- six beautiful white blossoms hanging from a single stalk, with purple and yellow in their centers. They were beautiful. Not just the flowers, but the reminder to me to not give up hoping and praying.
Sometimes I am hit with the impossibility of a situation. Humans say this can't be done. And for a day I stop praying because it's impossible. And then I'm hit with this awesome and humbling awareness- our God is not bound by the possible. He is the God of miracles and the God who does impossible things. So the next time I am tempted to give up something because it has taken so long, because nothing is changing and no flowers are appearing, I will remember those flowers in my other mom's house. I will remember hope. And open my hands again, pleading to the God of miracles.
There's been so many different things on my mind to write about, so I'm hoping to blog a little more often these coming weeks. But we'll see. I've decided to blog about hope tonight, because I haven't been feeling much of it lately. Just a little story that I don't want to forget.
We went to visit my mother-in-law a few weeks ago. She and Isa picked flowers in the backyard for me, while my husband worked on her lawnmower, blessing her as usual. In her house she has various plants and flowers, but this time she pointed out one to me in particular. She doesn't speak fluent English but she told me that she had this plant for two years, and it never had any blossoms. She had given up on it. But just when she was going to throw it in the trash, it blossomed all in a day- six if I remember right- six beautiful white blossoms hanging from a single stalk, with purple and yellow in their centers. They were beautiful. Not just the flowers, but the reminder to me to not give up hoping and praying.
Sometimes I am hit with the impossibility of a situation. Humans say this can't be done. And for a day I stop praying because it's impossible. And then I'm hit with this awesome and humbling awareness- our God is not bound by the possible. He is the God of miracles and the God who does impossible things. So the next time I am tempted to give up something because it has taken so long, because nothing is changing and no flowers are appearing, I will remember those flowers in my other mom's house. I will remember hope. And open my hands again, pleading to the God of miracles.
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
the souls of people
by Alanna
Well we've officially added baby number two to the mix at our house. It has been a joy and still I've cried in exhaustion once or twice. I've been learning some hard lessons, am learning still.
I make these long to-do lists for myself, great expectations. Believing somehow that if my floors were clean and the laundry all put away that I could believe I was a good wife, a good mom. I've wrapped my worth all up in clean dishes and homemade tortillas. And the fact is, floors are dirty and the moment I've put away the last piece of laundry I turn to find more dirty in the hamper. My husband tells me to rest, tells me that these things on my list don't have to be done on Monday. We will all survive until Tuesday without tortillas. Once that to-do list is complete I will come up with more anyway. Sort through the baby clothes, make some freezer meals. It never ends and I'm tired and I wonder if I inherited this or if I just acquired it over time. Looking to prove myself by what I can do, always. I wonder if this is the definition of workaholism or perfectionism.
I heard a song borrowed from my dear cousin called Rest Easy. About how we don't have to work so hard because Jesus has already done it all. He already holds our heart in His hands and we can rest in that. Then my brother reminds me of Hudson Taylor's spiritual secret, the greatest wonder that he had to share with the world. Abiding in Jesus. Not fighting, not striving to become or conquer. Just abiding. Just letting Jesus abide in us.
My thinking is warped because I've put my worth in the wrong place. Thinking that if I accomplish enough that can be noticed that I will prove myself to be someone. When really I am poor and needy, but the wondrous thing is that the Lord takes thought of me. My thinking is wrong too because I place all this value on things of this world. The fact is, only three things are really eternal. God, God's words, and the souls of people. The soul of my husband, the souls of my children. My baby girl asks me to read her bible stories, and I almost turn away because today's the day for cleaning the bathroom. I can't let my husband hug me long in the morning because breakfast has to be made. I don't want to be this way. I want to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen to Him. I want to be filled with Him so that I can pour out to others in joy. I want to love deeply. I want to value the souls of people more than clean dishes.
Well we've officially added baby number two to the mix at our house. It has been a joy and still I've cried in exhaustion once or twice. I've been learning some hard lessons, am learning still.
I make these long to-do lists for myself, great expectations. Believing somehow that if my floors were clean and the laundry all put away that I could believe I was a good wife, a good mom. I've wrapped my worth all up in clean dishes and homemade tortillas. And the fact is, floors are dirty and the moment I've put away the last piece of laundry I turn to find more dirty in the hamper. My husband tells me to rest, tells me that these things on my list don't have to be done on Monday. We will all survive until Tuesday without tortillas. Once that to-do list is complete I will come up with more anyway. Sort through the baby clothes, make some freezer meals. It never ends and I'm tired and I wonder if I inherited this or if I just acquired it over time. Looking to prove myself by what I can do, always. I wonder if this is the definition of workaholism or perfectionism.
I heard a song borrowed from my dear cousin called Rest Easy. About how we don't have to work so hard because Jesus has already done it all. He already holds our heart in His hands and we can rest in that. Then my brother reminds me of Hudson Taylor's spiritual secret, the greatest wonder that he had to share with the world. Abiding in Jesus. Not fighting, not striving to become or conquer. Just abiding. Just letting Jesus abide in us.
My thinking is warped because I've put my worth in the wrong place. Thinking that if I accomplish enough that can be noticed that I will prove myself to be someone. When really I am poor and needy, but the wondrous thing is that the Lord takes thought of me. My thinking is wrong too because I place all this value on things of this world. The fact is, only three things are really eternal. God, God's words, and the souls of people. The soul of my husband, the souls of my children. My baby girl asks me to read her bible stories, and I almost turn away because today's the day for cleaning the bathroom. I can't let my husband hug me long in the morning because breakfast has to be made. I don't want to be this way. I want to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen to Him. I want to be filled with Him so that I can pour out to others in joy. I want to love deeply. I want to value the souls of people more than clean dishes.
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
expecting
by Alanna
I meant to write this before Christmas, but never got around
to it. The Christmas snow outside still hasn’t melted though, so I feel that
it’s still the season. I feel like Mary this Christmas, waiting for a baby.
Hoping, wondering, treasuring up things in my heart. What will this son be
like? I think a lot about my little one
these days. He is not so little anymore,
turning seven this coming May. I pray
hard for him, that this year would be the one where he begins to really hunger
for God. I pray that his heart is soft
and open and that He wonders and asks questions and seeks the Truth. And I pray for this new little son growing
inside of me. That he would be dedicated
to Jesus and that I would have the courage to surrender him; courage like
Mary’s. I am so excited and so ready to
welcome this new baby. I’ve made up his
little bed, packed the bag for the birthing center, froze dinners, lined up
someone to watch baby girl. Now it’s
just expectant waiting. And I know that
God, in His perfect timing, will bring this baby into the world. He is the fulfiller of expectations, the
answer to all our hopes.
There’s all these stories in Luke about rejoicing in
long-hopes fulfilled, and I love them. To read the song of Mary and the
prophecy of Zecharias and the way that Simeon got to see the Savior. That Ana
waited for so long because she had been promised, and then she too got to see
Jesus. I’ve been seeing hopes fulfilled
too around here. Not passed down hope through generations, but things I barely
dared to hope in the dark. For my heart,
for his, for our marriage. It’s beautiful and I’m going to rejoice this
Christmas. No matter how many things we
still hope for, God is the fulfiller of promises. He is faithful and true and doesn’t ever lie. He is worthy to be waited upon, and worthy to
be rejoiced in even when we just see a small glimmer of hopes fulfilled.
Christmas, for me, is when we celebrate this. The God of hope sending His Son after so many
generations of hoping. His Son come to
rescue us. Worthy to be worshipped, when
we wait and when we rejoice.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)