The Valley of Baca

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!"

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.

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.

wisconsin and rest

by Alanna

   We got the chance this past week to retreat as a family to a beautiful "cabin" in the middle of nowhere, Wisconsin. Just an hour and a half drive from our house in the city, but it felt like a whole world away.  My husband and I had our struggles and our arguments, but I'm so thankful because some of those hard conversations help us to understand each other better. One thing we fought about has to do with my vacation attitude.  I am not very good at resting. Sitting and doing nothing makes me anxious and I start to struggle with my identity and fear that I am wasting my life away.  Thankfully I have a kind husband who encourages me to rest and is patient with me when I cry about it. Maybe I'll blog another day about some truth God reminded me of through those struggles this week.

  I'm so thankful that God gave us this time away. No neighbors nearby, forests stretching as far as you could see, dirt roads, fields, farms, hills. Lots of deer, lots of birds. Quiet 6 a.m. mornings with two of my boys on the front porch, watching the sun rise, singing to Jesus and reading Psalms out loud. I wanted this week to be a time of thanksgiving. To not ask God for so many things, but just to remember the good that He has done. To praise Him, to rejoice and to rest in His love.  One thing I was reminded of is the beautiful family that God has given me. These four incredible children and this husband who still acts like my boyfriend 6 years past the day we exchanged rings.  Here are some pictures. With every one I breathe thanksgiving to God, through His Son Jesus. I am in awe at His goodness.

Nehemiah loved this place

 Climbing up the triple bunkbed

 Baby getting kisses

 Out on the dock by the pond

Isabella on the canoe with Papa

 Emmanuel on the canoe!

 Samuel choosing to be brave too

 Both boys with their dad

 This nest of four baby birds was right above the front door

A deer right off of the front porch

Breakfast on the front porch.

We decided to try a 3 mile loop our last morning

And they made it!

 

Taking turns in the stroller, with the little boys mostly in carriers

Praise the Lord!

celebrating you

by Alanna


Dear son of my heart,

I am finally getting a chance to sit down and write for your birthday. We celebrated you on your special day, nearly two weeks ago now. Such a big day for you- 10 years old! In August it will be 10 years since I first laid eyes on you, a tiny baby wrapped up in a blanket, in the arms of another nursery volunteer. Ten years since that lurch in my heart, when my whole world changed. So many years of praying for you and loving you, most of them from far away, most of them with no knowledge of what your life looks like now. I love you still. I pray that you come to know Jesus, still. I pray that you seek truth, and that God puts friends and family and teachers into your life who will point you to that Truth.

I rejoiced on your birthday. Because I thank God for your life, for creating you. For all the beautiful plans that He has had for you and has for you still. I rejoiced that I got to be a part of it. I'm thankful for every day, every moment God gave me with you. I'm thankful too for the gifts He's given me here. My youngest son is 10 months. Representative of the total time I had on the same continent as you. On your birthday I opened my eyes and looked at my four children here. Looked at my husband. Looked at the family that God has given me. Thanked God for the family He has given you. I chased my boys around the backyard and laughed hard with them, and didn't take those moments for granted.  We ate ice cream and thanked God for you. I love you.

birthdays

by Alanna

Dear Emmanuel,

Happy 2nd birthday! You bring life to our home more than I can express in words typed up tonight. I think you touch everyone you meet, with joy and love. Strangers sitting behind us in church a few months ago expressed that you had touched their hearts with your joy. You are friendly to everyone; you love to smile and show affection. You love to laugh. This morning when we told you happy birthday, you smiled and softly said "Happy birthday" right back. You are a gift to us from God, a persistent reminder of your name, "God with us."

You have reached a lot of milestones in these past months. Talking in full sentences, singing songs, trying to read books to yourself, creating dramas with your dinner food as characters in the story. You have become so adept at expressing yourself- your needs, wants, and who it was that said mean words to you when mom was out of the room. Everytime you fall, even after total wipeouts on ice, you first announce "I fell!" and then cry if you need to afterward. You fight with your siblings sometimes, because you have ideas now about the toys you want to play with and how the games should go. You also try to irritate them on purpose sometimes, trying the excuse of "I just a baby!" when I come to reprimand you. You use the potty whenever you feel like it, on average about 5 times per week. I still don't think you know your colors, but you can count to ten and memorize Bible verses. You can walk all the way around our 1/2 mile track by the pond with no complaining. You believe the back of your hand is called your bottom, and refer to it that way. You love to repeat nearly everything we tell you, usually preceded by an "oh!" or succeeded by a "sweetie" or "baby" depending on how I had referred to you. You love to run and climb and jump and try to do anything your big brother does. You and him love to play together. You love animals and love the outdoors.  You like trucks and construction sites. You eat so much food at every mealtime, we wonder where you put it all.

I hope for you that your joy never dims. That you discover the One who created you, that He fills your heart with His joy and plants all your happiness deep in Himself. I pray that in this way your joy will never be shaken.

I am so in awe that God let me be your mom. You are a reminder to me of His goodness and that He is trustworthy in the way He is putting our family together. You are a gift. We love you always.

     

Quiet and stillness

By Mary

It's been a while since I've really experienced seasons, since South Carolina's seasons are mostly just categorized as "hot" and "hotter". Gorgeous azaleas bursting into bloom and a thick layer of green pollen coating every outdoor thing mark spring, the lovebug swarms announce the arrival of summer just before the even more sweltering days make their appearance, and the marshes turn a certain shade of green that I'll always remember as the temperature drops just a tad when autumn comes along. Winter means not sweating when you dare to wear jeans-and maybe occasionally a jacket can be added to your outfit.  

While our area of Washington is really rather temperate, it's seasons are far more distinctive. I suppose that may be the reason why I've spent much of this winter reflecting on the seasons and how they reflect the seasons that our spirits experience. That they need.

Spring is such a bright time, lively in every way, new and fresh and clean. It mellows out to the sweetness of summer where you want to soak up each moment. And when the weather begins to turn crisp, the trees blaze out in a flame of glorious color. There's an energy in the air when the fall days begin...and then slowly, the leaves begin to brown and then drop to the ground, leaving their branches bare. Compared to the warmth, the bright, the color, winter can feel so dead and dreary...and limiting. You can feel shut in, shut off. But it's a necessary thing. Those bare trees, the grasses and flowers, they are all quietly waiting, drawing strength, growing and preparing for all that lies ahead.
With our second winter in Washington drawing to a close, these thoughts have been lingering in my mind. The first is from a book I read recently, that Jesus is the Lord of the fast as well as the feast. We need both, however nice it may feel just to bask in the glorious feasting. And the second, straight from the Bible.
"...In quietness and trust is your strength..."-Isaiah 30:15