TEN

May 25, 2004 the Terbutaline pump that had been used to keep my labor in check for 8 1/2 weeks of hospitalized bedrest was removed. My perinatologist quipped that it could be hours or weeks until our wee ones made their grand entrance. Contractions picked up late that night and we met our long awaited blessings early the next afternoon.

Although it has been ten years, it only takes a few moments of reflection to bring back the fear and the fog of those days.

Eighteen months prior I had been deemed infertile.

Ten months later I'd been told my eggs "really didn't look good" and "this injection was probably not going to work."

I had a negative pregnancy test only four days before the faintest of faint lines appeared leading me to ask for a blood test to see if maybe, just maybe, one of those eggs had been ok after all.

Two weeks after that my husband and I received the most shocking news of our lives--there were THREE tiny humans growing in my womb. This was followed by medical counsel to 'selectively reduce' down to twins or a singleton because there was a 30% chance at least one of our babies wouldn't make it to birth.

At 22 weeks I was on home bedrest and at 23 weeks I was admitted for the duration of my pregnancy.

And when they delivered these teeny, tiny two and three pound bundles at 31 weeks, we still were not out of the woods by a long shot.

I'll spare you the ups and downs and twists and turns of everything since then--I have eight years' worth of blog archives for that. ;-) But tonight as we went for a family walk to "watch the sunset on our single digits" my heart could scarcely take the wave of overwhelming gratefulness. 

Oh, how I wish I had a time machine to go back to that girl I was...

The newly married woman sobbing over the infertility diagnosis, wondering if I'd ever get a shot at being anyone's Mama...convinced my identity somehow depended on it.

The pregnant lady alternating between weeping and shouting Jennifer Knapp songs the entire 75 minute drive to and from each OB/GYN and Perinatology visit--terrified the ultrasound would reveal a missing heartbeat.

The one who heard the whispers in the halls of the High Risk Pregnancy Unit when another Mama would deliver too early and suffer a terrible loss.

The patient who had to stop reading the books because the litany of preemie complications were too scary.

The new Mom who was lonely, frightened and overwhelmed during the ICU/NICU days.

The exhausted toddler Mama who has just heard scary diagnoses--and the one who became seasoned at scheduled pediatric therapy visits.

And the one who even now wakes up sometimes overwhelmed and worried that I am royally messing up these kids.

I just want to show my younger self these pictures and remind her to breathe.

The kids are gonna be alright--and so are you. More than alright, actually, you are going to laugh and love and yell and sigh and find yourself stretched in ways you never knew possible.

Life is far from perfect. We have issues galore, but so does every body else...and it is OK

Oh, and they are going to age you...in wisdom and in wrinkles...but you will have earned it.

And one day you will find yourself sitting by lamplight in that rocker glider you registered for a decade ago, completely sure that every single minute of it has been worth it.

It was a fitting God-incidence that the Children's Worship lesson I was assigned to teach today repeated the refrain "the story is not over yet." How frequently we all need to be reminded on this journey to not lose hope, keep holding on, God's still at work, and this story is not over yet! 

A whole decade under our belt! Here's to the next...

The Sweetest Gift

I vaguely remember receiving the plush musical toy as a shower gift 10 years ago. It was from my aunt and teenaged niece--attached to another gift I don't specifically recall. The sun/flower with an Eric Carle-type caterpillar attached was set aside with other toys.

Hospitalized bedrest came, tiny babies were ushered into the world quite dramatically and then tucked away in the NICU for several weeks. When our wee little ones came home, wrapped as burritos with monitors and wires, days and nights were a blur of joy, diapers, bottles and sleeplessness.

Somewhere in the Fall of 2004, the fog began to lift and my then 5-6 month old babes started to 'attach' to special toys. My tempermental R seemed to find soothing in the sweet melody from that sunshiny/flower (we still weren't quite sure which it was designed to be).

As our babies turned into toddlers, the bond between my R and "Sunny" was solidified. He didn't have a special blanket or pacifier. Sunny was it!

For the last 9 years, Sunny (AKA Sun-Sun) was a very good friend. A scary night-time awakening was frequently saved by locating him under the covers and pulling the caterpillar string that caused the music to play. I remember smiling as I heard the melody over the baby monitor when R grew a bit older and began to learn to soothe himself.

Even as my 'tough guy' has grown, Sunny has remained. Each morning when R makes his bed, Sunny assumes his place under the covers, at R's feet where he likes to sleep. (Oh the years I spent searching for him in the tangled sheets during particularly restless nights!)

A couple of months ago after a visit with our precious family friend/former sitter, Annie, and her new baby, R announced, "I think I want to give Sunny to baby Hudson."

We took a few weeks to ponder the idea. I put Sunny in a drawer to make sure we were ready. Occasionally I would find that he had made his way from my drawer back into R's bed. I wondered if the time had in fact come--or not.

And then today as we were preparing to go and meet Annie & Hudson for ice cream after school R cheerfully reminded me, "Don't forget Sunny!"

The handoff was adorable. My R is a man of purpose and he handled this like a champ.
 It seemed so sweet, so right.

And my heart was at peace, too. And then a couple of hours ago I got this from Annie. Sunny assuming the position in his new home, with a little boy the same age my R was when he fell in love with him.

New home 2014 (with Hudson)

Old home 2007 (with R)

A torch (or sun if you will) has been passed in the tenderest way.

Time marches on.

This is the Good Stuff

 

Tonight I had a moment

when I stopped, breathed deeply and realized

as colored leaves were slowly swirling down from the trees,

the temperature was perfect

and all three kids were having a great time.

 

These are the days.

 

Memories are being made.

 

Friendships with neighbors are deepening their roots through shared experiences.

 

Little red cheeks are stuffed with candy as they giggle and pant.

 

The costumes don't matter.

The moment really does.

This is the good stuff.

 

And for those of you that have been reading long enough to remember "The Shark that Ate My Pride," you will appreciate that K has kept her Halloween track record going strong!

​

Parenthood is an amazing ride. :)

They Bloom & Grow

I spent two hours tonight rehearsing songs with my K. Tomorrow she will experience her first audition for the school's Winter production of The Sound of Music. The young theater actress in me has been awakened. It was such fun to share my old passion with my girl.

After dinner I watched my R e-mail his teacher without assistance to handle a homework problem. He is such a little man who always has a plan. He melted me when he ended his note with "I am glad you are my math teacher."

This afternoon I took P to the orthodontist for the installation of the first of many phases of work. It pressed all his sensory triggers and he handled it like a champ. I was so very proud of him.

I couldn't help but shake my head when I read the sticky note on my back door this afternoon. Written in my children's handwriting, requests for vitamins and contact solution...how did we get here?

And even though I know they are only nine years old and we have a lot of years left, I am reminded that we have come a LONG way since this...

Not to overly romanticize the past, I am mindful that every age and stage has its unique gifts and challenges. Ours just seem to pass in a blur sometimes.
 

These really are good days. I marvel at the people these kiddos are becoming. No more diapers, strollers or car seats. Delightful conversations. Grand plans. Creative ideas. Nights of uninterrupted sleep. Children who can self entertain.

But it would be a lie to say that some days it doesn't feel a little bittersweet.

More Than Just a Number

Our children celebrated their 9th birthday today.

This post has gone at least a dozen different ways as I have drafted it in my head this week. From reliving the dramatic life and death events of that day, to celebrating each of their lives and the way they stretch me in new ways as they grow. I considered documenting our celebratory traditions, posting NICU pictures compared to now or open letters to each of them. But this evening as we lit sparklers in the driveway (a gift from my precious, wonderful friend/neighbor/surrogate aunt to my kiddos) my husband and I reveled in how they were suddenly, inexplicably and undeniably nine year olds.

To a child, I firmly believe, age is so much more than just a number. At least for my trio, today, it seemed an invitation to step it up. I am not speaking figuratively, it really did seem to happen overnight.

Because birthdays are indeed "Yes Days" (within reason, of course) we allowed the kiddos to choose post-church activities. As a result, we spent a gorgeous afternoon at the pool.
P sat with legs crossed in the shade reading to his heart's content. (So many new books, so little time.)
K swam and ran and played in the nonstop way only our little energizer bunny can--smile beaming constantly.
R 'held court' on the green lawn just outside the pool fence--leading a 4 hour baseball extravaganza with Dads and friends and little boys being cheerfully brought into the fold of the Summer tradition.

Between glances to see that they were having a blast, I managed to read 130 pages of a book.

As we walked home with tan skin and wonderfully exhausted bodies I watched the strides of those six legs that once filled my womb like spaghetti noodles. I listened to the voices I got to know via the late night sounds of baby monitors as they enthusiastically shared the stories of their day's adventures. Mostly, I simply noted the changing way my no-longer-babies carried themselves. While the trio's physical stature remains small in comparison to their peers, there is no denying their affect. My people have solidly joined the ranks of 'big kids.'

If you had asked me to project how I would feel about this, I am sure my response would have been wistful...but the truth is that I am not only at peace, but joyfully so. And tonight, I do wish I could sneak back for just a moment to that terrified, overwhelmed new Mama version of me 9 years ago and whisper:

Hang on. Dig in. Breathe. You cannot even fathom what is coming. Motherhood will be exhausting, terrifying, gut wrenching, sleep depriving, laughter and tear inducing, joy producing, stretching, rewarding, life altering and heart changing...But it will be so very good. (And that's just the first nine years.)

Grateful beyond words...

Carousel

My boys have been away this weekend at Father/Son camp in North Carolina. As a result, K & I have had the precious gift of a few days of girl time. Our bonding activities have covered the gamete, from manicures to soccer games to preparing and enjoying dinner at home by candlelight. Both of us have admitted being a bit freaked out by the quiet of our home minus its usual testosterone.

I feel as if the last couple of days have enabled me to really study my girl--how she's grown, what stirs her heart, what makes her laugh. We've discussed topics from shaving legs and wearing undergarments to bullies, kittens and her abandoned plans to be President of the United States. I simply adore that child--and I really enjoy being with her as well.

This afternoon we travelled to the nearby American Girl store for a grand finale experience. Even as I planned it, I rolled my eyes at the overcommercialization of it all. (I am too often a conflicted semi-hypocrite.) My doubts were quieted significantly when we arrived and I saw the light in her eyes--permission to just be a wonder-filled little girl. Although she enjoyed looking at every piece of merchandise offered in the store (twice), she ultimately chose to spend her allowance elsewhere on a gift for a friend and a carousel ride.

 

I am admittedly feeling sappy about 9th birthdays next weekend, but as I watched my big girl on the carousel tonight, its rotation felt quite symbolic. Like the Earth going around the sun, the turning of the carousel seemed to mark the passage of time. Each lap as she slipped out of sight and then remerged, it was as if she were aging before my very eyes. My mind flashed to mental pictures of the carousel rides I recall with our kiddos through the years--on their 2nd birthdays at the Atlanta zoo, at Disney when they were 4 years old,  the carousel on the National Mall in DC when they were 6 and countless rides at the valley fair and local mall on random days in between. How could that little lady be my 2 lb 12 oz preemie?

 

As I watched other young parents holding tightly to their unbalanced wee ones, I marveled at the growth of mine. In this, like many other things these days, her independence is such that I am relegated to sidelines. But instead of making me weepy, I rejoiced at the confident, happy girl grinning back at me. This is the point, right?

I snapped another photo both with my phone and with my heart. Then we came back to the hotel to watch Animal Planet in our pjs and plan for tomorrow: breakfast in bed and a swim in the hotel pool before church.

She's delighted by all these adventures and I'm most pleased with the travelling companion.

These are sweet, sweet days.

Love Offerings

Today, all over the US, Moms wept over the unexpected beauty of random things...construction paper hearts, handmade macaroni jewelry, overcooked muffins (and in my case even carved sticks and leaves held together with grey duct tape). Well meaning children offered gifts of love to the women in their life.

It mattered not that the stubby fingers brought burnt toast, bitter coffee, or misspelled cards. Frankly, it made the treasures all the more endearing. Precious ones brought their best as a love offering and it was received warmly. We weren't weeping over the glitter or glue. Our overflowing hearts were leaking from our tear ducts. Today above all days, it was truly the thought that counted.

This morning as I surveyed the handiwork of these little people, I pondered the words of my mentor, Anita. She encouraged me to remember that even though my children would come proudly bearing gifts they think are all about me, they are really learning to share the gift of themselves.

As those words rolled around in my heart and mind I thought of the lessons to be learned as an adult. What if we, like children, still freely offered the gift of ourselves to God and to others--without fear of rejection or comparison? What if our offerings to the world, to our families and friends were like these handmade gifts, joyfully brought with best intentions?

As a Mama of multiples, I am well versed in the practice of receiving three versions of the same gift. My playroom walls are lined with art projects in triplicate. I frequently hang all three of something up. I don't sit and compare the three in order to rank them. I actually revel in how three little ones can receive the same supplies and instructions yet produce such individual work.

And so it goes with us...each given life and talents.

I like thinking of my gifts being received by a proud, adoring parent--without harsh judgment, comparison or criticism--but with a heart full of love. What a beautiful, comforting thought.

PS. If you haven't yet read this gorgeous piece by Ann VosKamp, I urge you to do so. It is the perfect nightcap for this Mother's Day.

Life These Days

I feel like my writing voice has gone quiet. Burdened by a feeling that there is a lot of chatter in this world already, I have been in a season of hibernation--reading, listening and taking it all in.

Paragraphs have struck me. The words of others have spurred me to lengthier thought. It has been good for my soul to simply be still and absorb much of what is already out there.

As Spring approaches, I am itching to bloom again. Face to face meetings with people have started to happen with more regularity. I am feeling stirred to write and contribute to the world's conversation again.

But I don't want to move on too quickly and forget the things that have impacted me most.

The simplicity of family life has been a blessing.
Watching my children delight in the old game of tetherball.
Flashlight dance parties in our pjs.
Scratching sweet 8 year old backs before bed.
Reading a bedtime story all piled in one bed--wondering when they will outgrow this.
Impromptu science projects in the kitchen sink.
Long bike riding adventures.
Competitive games of Othello, Mancala, Sorry, Fluxx & Zingo.
Baking (and, of course, eating) brownies for no special reason.
Poring over the newest Guinness Book of World Records.
Play dates with friends.
The glorious transition to handling discipline issues with back and forth dialogue with a child instead of simply a one directional lecture.
The delight (and frustrating destruction) of having a puppy in our home.
Random acts of kindness and love (occasionally) between siblings.
Wallowing on the sofa watching yet another episode of Phinneas & Ferb.
Marvelling at the height that it finally coming to my tribe. Everyone is chest high!

Last month I transitioned all of our family photos over to a new hard drive and was struck by how much of every day life I have forgotten. During various stages of my trio's childhood I have been so overwhelmed by the monotony of the ordinary that I became blinded to the gems hidden within. (I am starting to sound like an old Mom :-) I won't pretend I miss the whining or the tantrums, the runny noses or the smashed cheerios littering every square inch of the house. But I do miss the little voices that inhabited my home in those days...and the tummies...and the giggles...and the marching band parades with pots and pans...and the mispronounced words. There were many sweet things I didn't think to treasure.

These are the days that my children will count as childhood--and while there will be stories of grand adventure--it is the every day moments that are most shaping their hearts and mine.

It is my heart's prayer that the Gospel story is being lived out in these walls over and over again. As we seek to love well, fail, forgive and give each other grace to try again.
There are chore charts and pajama days.
There is grumpiness and refreshing laughter.
For every annoying habit, an endearing quirk.
We get grouchy, bossy, selfish. We act silly, offer choices and seek to serve.
I am still tired.

This is real life.

Taken only in a sliver it can be a peak or a valley...but taken as a whole, seasoned with grace, love and joy it is GOOD.

I am grateful.

Momentary

Reading Jon Acuff's post, The Truth about this Moment, I was struck by the profound simplicity of his reminder: Fear can deceive us into believing our temporary troubles are forever.

"Right now, isn’t forever.
Right now is just right now.
It’s a season.
It’s passing even as you read this post.
It will be over before you know it and you’ll be in a new season."
-Jon Acuff

I confess I am in a sweet season right now, so I savored the truth of his words before tucking them away for comfort during a more challenging time in my life. Then bedtime rolled around.

We are already enjoying an extended Thanksgiving break, so as we went through our nightly routine, I was relaxed. There was no bickering about homework. No negotiations over bedtime. We have no alarms set for tomorrow morning. Instead of fretting, I was able to pay a bit more attention. With fresh and unhurried eyes, I noticed a lot.

How much taller P looks standing in front of the bathroom counter. The little pooch in his belly, despite his thin frame. How he still forgets his L sound when he is really tired, causing him to mumble, "I'm sweepy." The way he wraps his lovies around his neck like a towel as he burrows into bed. The fact that he still frequently goes to bed with his glasses on.

As I moved into the next bedroom, I was struck by how long R appears as he is tucked into bed. His manly, serious expression as he props his pillow to read by lamplight. He still has much to tell me at bedtime, including his theories on what position to sleep in to avoid nightmares. How tightly he wraps his arms around me. The way he spins my earring back as I am praying with him.

The experience repeats itself as I go to kiss K. Her dark curls swirling over her head on her pillow. Her word choice as I asked how she felt about today's news that she will be wearing glasses. ("A bit anxious combined with a little excited.") The compassion and maturity in her prayers for homeless and hungry people, quickly followed by questions about black holes. The way she carefully peruses her drawer full of stuffed animals deciding who all will be sleeping in her bed that night. Her soft request as I am walking past her doorway for "just one last hug, Mommy?"

The fact of that matter is that it's not just the bad things that fall into the category of 'only a season.' The sentiment applies to many of the sweet things too. Different seasons will bring their share of triumphs and challenges. The reminder that 'this won't last forever' can be encouraging or painful, depending on what type of season you are in.

I find that fear can capture me on both sides of the equation. The fear that my circumstances will never change AND the fear that they will. But God is the Lord of ALL of it. Yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Don’t worry about anything, but pray and ask God for everything you need, always giving thanks for what you have. And because you belong to Christ Jesus, God’s peace will stand guard over all your thoughts and feelings. His peace can do this far better than our human minds. Philippians 4:6-7 (ERV)

Just as tough circumstances are not forever, the sweet moments aren't either. As we focus on turkey & gratitude this week, I am thankful for His Provision through it all. It is not for me to fear what my come or what may go. "Whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul." May we consider it all in light of eternity.

There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever. 2 Corinthians 4:18 (The Message)

Lord, help me pay attention with a grateful heart and move forward with a trusting one.

Simply Happy

Since having children, people have warned me over and over to 'savor the moments' and I indeed try. On the eve of my wedding, a friend gave me a sage piece of advice: every now and then stop, take deep breaths and intentionally try to take snapshots with your heart.

As much as I love photographs, this practice has taught me there is much that a photo can't convey. I think this is where writing has become such an outlet for me: the 1-2-3 combo of heart snapshots, photos and the written word are the closest I can get to freezing time.

So today as we enjoyed a glorious day out of school, I started thinking about the elements of our afternoon outdoors that my iphone camera couldn't capture.

The sound of the Fall breeze and the warmth of sunshine on my skin.
The flurry of colorful, brittle leaves swirling around us against the backdrop of the bright clear blue sky.
My children's sweet 8 year old voices and giggles as they excitedly worked together on the playground.
The hilarious and simultaneously serious and articulate thoughts that come pouring out of their mouths.
How my heart felt as it lapped it all up.
There was nothing 'special' about today, except most everything was...

Life can be overwhelmingly complex and heavy sometimes...but it can also be simply breathtaking.

Today I am grateful for a love-filled sabbath day for my soul.

Remembering

It doesn't make much sense, even to me, so I won't even attempt to explain it...but tonight I cried an ugly cry. For the first time that I can recall, I wept for what I might have missed if God had chosen to take me home 8 years ago tomorrow. Near death experiences are an interesting phenomena, in that,  I don't know that you ever really 'get over it.' I think I am strangely thankful for that.

As I wiped away my tears I said to my husband, "You know, 5-26-04 was the best day and the worst day all in one?" He hugged me tight because he understood.

It started with my long distance phone call urging him to hand off his patients as quickly as he could and get to Atlanta because, "it was baby day!" It ended with my strong, confident husband huddled alone in the hall outside my hospital room as strangers ran a 'code' on me in their (praise God) successful attempt to save my life.

I don't know why this year is more emotional than years past...except to say that with age and maturity has come a keen perspective on life, love and the fragile nature of it all.  I am sure it has a bit to do with watching a friend pass away recently--another Mom--leaving behind a 7 & 5 year old. I just feel so tender about the fact that this story could have ended VERY differently. I completely believe God would have taken care of my husband and these children. He would have redeemed their story for His Glory, but I am SO glad He chose to let me stick around and see this unfold.

I believe Heaven will be amazing. I am sure there is nothing imaginable that can compare to standing in the presence of my Lord, but I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity I was given to stay here and mother these sweet children and love my husband. Even on the stinkiest, worst day--I am keenly aware that I am still here because He chose it.

I am exceedingly grateful!

Almost 8 Years

“There are lives I can imagine without children but none of them have the same laughter & noise.” -Brian Andreas

I am feeling quite sappy as we prepare to celebrate 8x8x8 Saturday. Just thinking of it makes me grin.

I have no idea what I imagined motherhood to be like eight years ago as I sat gestating at Northside Hospital. I seem to recall having a blank picture as I tried to imagine my new role as "the girl who has the triplets." I know for a fact I could not have imagined it this way.

Early this morning as my husband came in to kiss me goodbye, I was just lying in bed staring at the wall. His arrival shook me back to reality and I told him what I was feeling...happiness, love and peace.
 Family was such a beautiful invention from our creative God.

Life is not a fairy tale. My kids (and their parents) are works in progress. It gets wild. Wrangling this many wills and desires into the same direction often feels like the 10-legged race that it is. Somebody seems to have an issue at any given point in time. It is all a part of growing up (for all of us.) We have our 'stuff,' but it doesn't define us. We also have noise, adventure, laughter and love.
Lasting joy, I am aware, is not dependent on circumstances, however, in this moment, with these people, "the boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places" and I am so grateful!

All We Want for Eas-ther...

Can I just be a gushing Mama for a minute?

P lost his two front teeth last month in Guatemala. R joined the ranks of the proudly snaggle-toothed tonight. Call me crazy, but I have been waiting with bated breath for this to happen. I cannot adequately express (or explain) the giddiness this incites in me.
Everything about this photo (snapped on my hubby's phone right before bed tonight) makes me happy...except that K's two front teeth are merely loose and not yet out.

I see a whole lot of little-girl-front-teeth-wiggling in my future. (And a lot of the newly-invented game, "vampire tag.")

I adore my almost-eight year olds and their little snaggle tooth selves!

Homecoming 2011

I am finally old enough to understand the significance of Homecoming. This weekend was a sweet time of memory making with my crew of old and my brood.Suzanne, Daree & I have been friends for 19 years. We met on the 11th floor of Tutwiler when I was a 17 year old freshman at the University of Alabama.Both of them married their high school sweethearts, so I have known their husbands almost since the day I met them. We've been through proposals, weddings, pregnancies, toddlers, health scares, funerals and countless other chapters of life.
We've seen each other through a lot of things since we shared a room on the second floor of the Phi Mu house almost two decades ago. They have made excellent traveling companions for the journey so far!

To be back together...with all our children..watching them play together in our old haunts...well, it was just the best! I couldn't help but giggle at the thought of what 'then us' would have thought at the prospect of 'now us'...19 years and 8 children later.

The only thing better than recalling old memories is making new ones. So, my children's first Alabama game was great, great fun!
This morning we went to church in Birmingham and heard a very thought provoking sermon on (of all things) covenant friendship. (I am planning to recap that later, as this post is already long and I have a lot of laundry to do!!)

All of it prompted a heart full of thanksgiving for the sweet friends God has blessed me with--and a renewed prayer that my children's lives will be filled with the same.

There's No Pause Button

Today I had a minor procedure done to help with some reflux issues. As a result of the anesthesia, I was not able to drive this afternoon, blessing our family with a midweek break from our activities. From 3pm-7:30pm we were able to snack, complete homework assignments, have dinner and PLAY at an unrushed pace.

As I watched the electricity of ordinary life happening in my backyard my heart smiled. The swinging, biking, sliding, basketball playing, giggling, chasing and ziplining was such a picture of the simple pleasures of healthy, active children.

I decided to get my camera because I have fallen out of the habit of recording the ordinary pleasures of real life. I don't need any more posed pictures of special occasions. I want reminders of the precious, ordinary, unremarkable moments of home life.
I love these dirty, snaggle tooth faces...

but walking around and gettng a picture of the other side of those heads always makes my heart melt. (And the basketball R is clutching? That's real life.)

And so is this.

I was talking to a friend today about how she was coping amidst a difficult season of life change. She shared that the best bit of advice she had been given is that she wouldn't always feel like this--the searing pain would subside, the heavy fog would begin to part.

This led to a discussion of a Beth Moore study we both remembered from a couple of years ago. (I think it was Esther...) I am paraphrasing, but Beth made the point that when women get all tied up in our anxiety we make the mistake of allowing our thought life stop at the moment our worst case scenario occurs--the late night phone call, the diagnosis, etc. She challenged readers to not stop there, but to think about what would come next. There would be a next breath, a next step, a next chapter.

This is the nature of life. It is fluid. It doesn't just 'pause.' Yet when we get tangled up and immobilized by fear we forget that.

This afternoon I was thinking about how this is important to remember in the ordinary blessings of our busy lives as well. We don't get to press pause on the devastating parts of life, but the same holds true for the beautiful chapters. Time waits for no man. It marches on.

So, I resolved to slow down today and intentionally focus on remembering the little details.

The sweet sound of their giggles.
The size of their bikes.
The colorful crayola toothbrushes scattered all over the bathroom counter.
Those skinny little arms doing pushups before bed.
That wild head of hair that cannot be tamed.
The gravelly little seven year old voice that still hasn't mastered the R sound.
The mischievous grin on the face of the Daddy that loves playing with them so much he can't quite bring himself to settle them down for bed.

Because this too shall pass.

The Tension

Three times this weekend I have been with friends who sent sons off to college this month. Although it hasn't been our only point of conversation, it is obvious from their countenance that part of their heart and mind is elsewhere. Each time I have noticed their affect it has stung my heart. What will it feel like to launch my birds from this nest?

Honestly, my practical mind steps in and shoves the thoughts back to a deep place within seconds. That is 12 years away. We have a whole lot of other things before us between now and then. I am thankful for the protectiveness that my mind displays over my tender Mama heart.

And yet, as I sat in church this morning with my boys flanking me and K in her Daddy's lap, I kept thinking about the Mama sitting next to me that sent her oldest son to college this week. It made me value the moment. I enjoyed scratching those little boy heads while they would still let me.

I was able to be in my current season while giving pause to the one that looms. It occurred to me that there is some value in the tension of the present and the future-- if we allow it to give us perspective rather than terrify us or shut us down.

It is, after all, what we Mamas are aiming for, right? Preparing our children for adulthood...making sure they are ready for the launch. Intentional, responsible parenting involves knowing there is a goal in mind. We don't have to know what they will be or how God will use them...ours is simply to love them up and point them to Him.

It seems that the launching will mean a lot more if I think of it even now as a goal to give them away to the world for His glory--rather than fearing it as a moment when something will be taken from me.

Seven

Late sleeping
Muffin making
Bike & scooter riding
Silly giggling
Blokus playing
Taylor Swift singing
Zumbatomic dancing
Tetherball competing
Snap circuit creating
Playdate planning
Taco eating
Phinneas & Ferb watching
Sofa cuddling
Fort making
Story telling
Family room camping

and that was just today...

It is good to be seven!

Bricks Won't Work

Yesterday was my children's last day of Kindergarten, the triplets' actual 7 year old birthday AND their birthday party (at school). I didn't post last night because, frankly, we were exhausted!
Now that we are firmly on the road to being 'graders' (R's term) and smack dab in the throes of the glory years of childhood, all I keep thinking is how much I love, love, love this age and stage. Life is just sweet right now.Tonight as I was lovin' all over my people at bedtime, begging them not to get any bigger, K said, "Mama, just don't put a brick on my head, ok?" (a phrase she heard her Grandmother say.)
I laughed and promised her I wouldn't.
"You know that would never work anyway, right?"

It was a stinging reminder to my heart. No effort on my part to slow down the movement of the hands of time would work. My attempts at stunting their growth are futile. This is the way life goes.

I am comforted by my faith that God has plans for these lives (and for mine and my husband's) beyond this particular season, but it doesn't stop me from really reveling in this one! Life isn't always sweet on this Earth, so I refuse to ignore these precious seasons of happiness. I will not get so busy, so caught up in what is coming next, that I forget to thank God for what is!

Pause. Freeze frame. Savor and appreciate.

I will not put bricks on anyone's heads (K just breathed a sigh of relief!) but I will sing a song of thankfulness in my heart along the road.

7 Years

As the children were getting ready for bed tonight, I did the most stereotypical Mom thing and told them the story of their birth. (I was only going to tell them about the night before, but they were so into it that when those 6 big brown eyes implored me to keep going, I really had little choice.)

Seven years ago tonight I was laying in hospital bed in Atlanta full of anticipation--but completely ignorant as to how radically my life was about to change. I had spent the previous 8 weeks flat on my back with little else to do but consider the prospect of mothering the three little people growing in my womb--and yet nothing prepared me for the way my world was about to be rocked.

As I recounted the story of meeting each of them for the first time, I remembered how strange it was to look at those little two and three pound creatures and think THOSE are my CHILDREN. I loved them immediately, but I had no idea want it meant to mother them. It took some getting used to--to be so needed and to feel so needy. God has grown us!

Fast forward seven years... As I looked into those precious faces tonight and thought about all of the incredible lessons we have taught each other in the last seven years, my heart felt overjoyed.

K has taught me:
1. To look for joy in every circumstance (She smiles even when she is getting in trouble.)
2. That you truly can make something beautiful out of anything. (I have a dozen repurposed crafts all over my house at this moment to prove it.)
3. How to love people well--as wild and full of life as she is on the outside, she is kind-hearted and thoughtful on the inside.

R has taught me:
1. To choose my words carefully (as he is always listening to them completely literally and will remind me when I even remotely deviate from what I have said). He operates under the principle that a person's word is their word (period).
2. How to walk away from an argument without having to prove myself right. (He WON'T surrender--and it doesn't come easily for me either.) My boy has passion! I have memorized this phrase: "I love you too much to argue with you, son."
3. A little tenderness goes a long way. He is my most strong-willed child, but he is my most affectionate too. Tonight as I was tucking him in he wrapped his arm around my neck and started scratching the top part of my back. "It's the last back scratch you'll eva get fwom a 6 year old."

P's life has taught me:
To trust God. He was my smallest. He had surgery twice before he was three. I gave him CPR while waiting on an ambulance when he was only 8 weeks old. He's been hospitalized, had intimidating tests and scary diagnoses along the way. Yet, yesterday I watched him fly down the driveway on his bicycle--just like his brother & sister. Tonight I watched him finish a great baseball season with his peers and tomorrow he'll finish Kindergarten. He is a joyful, happy, well-adjusted kid. He marches to the beat of his own drummer always--but he certainly brings a great deal of joy as he does it. God is writing His story.

Watching my husband become such an amazing Daddy in the process has been an incredible blessing in and of itself. His devotion, his sacrifice, his patience with them (and me) truly leads me to respect and love him more deeply than before.

Marriage and motherhood have been holy grounds for serious sanctification in my life. I feel dumber, less competent, increasingly unorganized and far more worn out than I did seven years ago--but I have never felt this full of purpose and such love.

Thank you, God, for these gifts.

Almost Seven

The countdown is on...

Next week, my children will celebrate their 7th birthday.

This morning I was thinking about all the 'small things' that make me happy about this age. There are too many to list exhaustively, but here are a few that come to mind immediately:

1. Hearing them try to put big words into sentences. This morning K chastised P for eating his Cheerios with his fingers, then did the same thing. P exclaimed, "You just hypocritted!!!"

2. Sidewalk chalk paths for bike races all over my driveway.

3. The inventions and creations I find everywhere involving shoeboxes, bottle caps, old water bottles and the like. Seeing their little creative brains at work makes me happy.

4. Getting love notes from K. My husband and I both have sticky notes on our respective bathroom mirrors right now that she secretly placed a couple of weeks ago.

5. The confidence they are gaining at how the world works. It is not yet cocky. Instead, it is literally like light bulbs are going off all the time as they pronounce, "Mom! I figured out..."

6. They are finally (mostly) making beds and getting dressed in the morning without prompting.

7. They seem to be understanding and implementing encouragement. Earlier this week as we were leaving a baseball game R said to a teammate, "It was really good when you caught that pop fly."
While wrestling/tickling P jumped on my back and said, "You are a good Mommy."
During dinner K said, "Mom, you always make great dinners." (This is precious and laughable at the same time...my cooking prowess is not usually on anyone's list of my strengths.)

8. Their giggles. (Not unique to this age, but still my favorite sound in the world!)

9. How much all three love reading. It really is a gift! I never thought I would be threatening to take away books as punishment.

10. That I can still (barely) hold them when they are especially tired/cuddly.

11. That R still cannot pronounce his Rs despite months of speech therapy. It is time for him to get it, I know...but I am enjoying it (even while correcting him) until the end.

12. That P's ability to pronounce the SL sound is greatly reduced when he's tired, making for the PRECIOUS phrase, "Mom, I am sweepy."

13. They aren't too grown up for loveys or nightly tuck ins.

14. My K who loves 'creepy crawly things' and climbing trees suddenly has an opinion about outfits and insists on doing her own ponytails.

15. Bike/scooter riding, tree house playing, swinging and cheese tag are favorite pastimes.


Life is sweet. I am committed to savoring it.