Category Archives: kids

Grace-filled moving- Our community (crowd-sourced) list of moving tips

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Over the past week or so I asked the internet for moving advice.  Let’s be honest, I sorta begged you guys to help me find grace and to dole out advice in the midst of our 1,000 mile move.

And boy did you guys show up!  Dozens of you chimed to share with me the tips and tricks that saved your life in the middle of a move.

grace filled moving

I’ve sifted through the scraps of shared advice and come up with this list which includes not only packing and practical tips but advice that gets down to the heart and soul of the up-ending chaos of packing and unpacking one’s life.

I love this list because it represents a community of real people sharing their best moving advice.  It’s like calling all your friends for help, but it’s all in one place.  Like some sort of online moving party.

So here we go. (did I mention you guys rock?)

1) “Spend as much time as possible just soaking up the friendships you’ve made (in your current location)-coffee, dinner, just long chats. Packing will happen and the going through of stuff will get done, but your face to face time with friends is a must for now“ – Carol C

2) Ask yourself three things about everything you pack, do I: Need it? Love it? or Use it?  If the answer was no to those three questions, then don’t take it with you.  We only ended up bringing about 25% of our belongings with us to the new house, and life in the new place easier and less stressful! - Stephanie B

3) Use colored tape for color coding according to each room.  Have a special color for things you will need immediately- Ryan B (echoed by many others)

4) Label every box and where it will go in the new house.  Be okay with packing boxes that you know you wont get to until 3-4 months from move in day. Be ultra organized…. you just have to make time for that. Oh and when someone offers to help ALWAYS take them up on it. – Rebecca S

5) Don’t be afraid or shamed to use paper plates for the last week – or even longer. It’s fun for the kids to pretend every meal is a picnic! – Pam W

6)  I hired two movers for 2 hours only to lift the heavy stuff. We have always done it ourselves and we fought a lot about silly stuff. Our movers moved ONLY the heavy things (oak furniture, boxes of books, mattresses, etc.) down three flights of stairs. Worth. Every. Penny.- Kelli S

7) Chocolate chip cookies and frequent date nights. – Anne V

8) When it comes to packing, pretend to be a professional. Don’t get sentimental about things; act like they belong to someone else. Carefully, but quickly, just wrap it and get it in a box. The quicker the better. At this point, it’s a job to be done, not memories of grandma or your firstborn- Janice S

9) Make the family take mini vacations….. a 15 min all stop and drink a pop or eat ice cream together. Do this frequently and it allows you talk and plan too. – Mark A

10) Don’t be afraid to ask for help – and seriously, even if boxes get packed “willy-nilly”; you’ll get a laugh when you unpack. And trust me, you’ll still need to laugh when the unpacking begins. – Pam W

11)  Schedule time to process, particularly with the kids. Make appointments for it, because if you don’t, the time is gone, and they’re asking hard questions and you’re saying, just a sec, I’ve gotta make these three phone calls! There’s gotta be time to talk about it. – Esther E

12)  Just laugh. laugh at the lunacy of it all. because you’re right, moving can be stressful but it’s really not that big a deal. just laugh.  Try to detach yourself from all your stuff. the house you’re leaving is just a house, the clothing you “can’t live without” is just clothing. cherish the memories but let go of the stuff. – Tim G

13) Use professional movers and have them set up beds and hook up all appliances….it’s worth the money!  And direct the movers to place the boxes into the correct rooms when you arrive. Trust me, you Do Not want to have them just stack it in the garage. Been there. Done that. Not cool. – Leah M

14) Packing a kitchen is often the biggest pain. Pack it early and eat off of paper for a few days. Don’t save it till last.  Use styrofoam plates between your glass plates instead of individually wrapping them. - Ashley S.

15) Put your living room together as soon as you can and relegate all the boxes to other rooms so you have one “sanity room” to retreat to when you start whimpering at the thought of unpacking even one more box. – Leanne P

16)  Pack a “First Things” box. This box goes with you and not on a moving truck (or it’s THE last box on the truck). Toilet paper, paper towels, soap, a hand towel, Chlorox wipes, bandaids, the remotes. Think of things you will want in the first several hours after moving in.  Mark this box in a special way so it can’t get mixed in with other boxes. – Janice S (echoed multiple times)

17)  Stop and intentionally savor small moments. my kids, almost weekly, say to me “remember our first night in our new house when we ate taco bell at midnight?” I told them that night that I never want them to forget that moment because it was our first night in our new house. Little did I know it was the taco bell they would remember- Rebecca S

18)  Space saver vacuum bags are amazing for clothes and bedding!! I saved so much room using those, you can put several bags in a suitcase or in tight spaces.  Best thing ever! – Emily H

19)  Avoid using Uhaul at all costs, they are an evil company. I say that without exaggerating. The trucks are poorly maintained and their system ensures no one can be held responsible. Their phone support is nonexistent. – Ed C (echoed multiple times)

20) Set a certain number of boxes you want to pack or unpack each day and stick to that goal.  You won’t kill yourself on either end and it will be done before you know it. – Sarah M

21)  We budgeted for dinners out so neither of us would have to cook. It was important to get out of the chaos, too! - Kelli S

Thank you all so much for contributing!  If more moving tips come in I can always add them to this post so go ahead, share your secrets of grace in the chaos of a move.

My Short Stint as a Preschool Teacher (or small faithful = big lovely)

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Thursday the “Mother’s Day Out” preschool where I was working shut it’s doors permanently.  I hadn’t been there long, only 5 short weeks. I only started working there to make some extra money for our impending move.

So when they gathered the teachers this past Tuesday and told us they were shutting the program down,  I’m not sure if I felt relieved or sad. I suppose it was a mix of the two.  It had been a hard month of work, of learning the ropes, the politics and the kids.  And just when I thought I had a knack for it? It was over with a few quick words from the director.

I couldn’t help wondering what the point of my short stint as a preschool teacher had been.  Was I supposed to work there in the first place? Did I misread the plan?

Yet, this past week: God, with his wit and wisdom has been show me that longevity and notoriety has nothing at all with his ability to change lives.  He needs faithful hands for both the short and long term.

In my mind my time at the preschool was nothing extraordinary.  I’d simply gone to work, poured goldfish, changed diapers, read books and played blocks upon blocks.

But to God, I opened up a channel with which he could show love and grant grace.  A usable connection to affirm his worth and establish his kingdom in a simple preschool playroom.  And on our last day, several of my Mothers told me that I was a regular topic of dinner conversation, and a big part of why their kids wanted to come to school.

They’d noticed the change in their kids since I’d started and they were thankful to God that I showed up.

And now it was over, I said goodbye to those three year olds forever and watched their mothers walk them to the car.  Their age and the brevity of our time together assured me that my work and presence in their lives would soon be forgotten.  

biglovely

Yet, as I always do, I was completely underestimating God’s ability to use the scraps of my faithfulness in the big picture of his overarching plan.   I’m beginning to see that he can use the smallest acts of love and faithfulness to adjust the trajectory of a life forever.

And moreover I was believing in the lie that God is only working through the works of those who are receiving the highest accolades and notoriety, and since that wasn’t me I thought that my small faithfulness was unusable to him.  I worried that the work of my hands was nothing more than adequate effort, forever passed over in favor of lovelier choices.

So often we believe that only the big dogs make a difference, but it’s utter BS.  So what if you’re a small church, a little movement, an introverted youth worker or whatever your case may be?  The enemy is thrilled when we believe that small is insufficient, because it leads to doubt and so often surrender.

But we have to remember that everything in the world, even the big things, are comprised of small faithfulness and discouraging turn outs.  God uses the small works, the simple acts of showing up to bring about his purpose in the lives of his children.  And when his kids feel his love and affirmation the ripple effect is unpredictable and revolutionary.

So if your numbers are done
Your job is gone
The time seemed too short
The outcome wasn’t what you hoped for
You wonder if this is your calling or if it’s time to give up…

Don’t think it was for naught, God uses the work of your hands for his beautiful glory, and what more can we hope for when it comes to the fruit of our time?  God wants your faithfulness and sees it as every bit as lovely as that of the people your comparing yourself to.  

Your small faithful is big lovely, lets stop forgetting the God into whose hands we commit the works of our days.

Mom Hack (from picky to licky)

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DSC_0642-1 Today I’m excited to share a guest post from one of my favorite people, my friend Jillian Burden. Jill and I met in college and I remember being amazed by her from day one, she’s stunning inside and out. She’s on my short list of people I want to go out for coffee with, because she laughs deeply and listens so intentionally. 

Jill and her husband John brought home their first child, their Son Artem, in November shortly before US / Russian adoptions shut down.  I love being on the mothering journey with Jill, even if from a distance, her joy and love for her son and orphans world wide are contagious. So without further adieu… 

I just love food. I love the way a toasted piece of sourdough soaks up the savory flavors of tomato basil soup. I love the creamy/sweet contrast of goat cheese and red pepper jelly on a thin, crisp water cracker. And I really love the sweet and salty slurpy wonderfulness of any kind of peanut butter and soy sauce noodle dish. I’m not a natural born talent in the kitchen, but I’ve taught myself to cook because I need a means to get to the end of delicious food.

Not only do I love to eat food myself, but I love to cook for others. I think one of my love languages is feeding people. So you can imagine that as I stood on the precipice of motherhood, I had grand visions of cooking beautiful dinners to be enjoyed with great thanksgiving by my hungry children.

And then my husband and I brought home a picky eater. We adopted our two-year-old son Arie three months ago from Moscow, Russia and he survived Thanksgiving through Christmas on cheese, bananas and multivitamins.

Our pediatrician assured me this was normal and that it could take up to 16 “tastes” of a new food before we’d actually get him to eat it.

Turns out though, sixteen tastes is a lot. Especially when you’re wiping them off a chin or a bib or a floor for the tenth day in a row. Actually, wiping food that was spit out from our son’s mouth was something of a victory because most of the time he’d guard his tongue by pressing his lips together like an oyster hiding a pearl. Short of forcing a spoonful of yogurt in his mouth, I had no idea how I was going to get sixteen tastes in there.

I won’t lie; I was feeling a little desperate.

Picky Eaters

I guess genius sometimes lives in desperation because therein I found my answer: food licking.

It started off with, “Hey Arie can you stick out your tongue??” (Yes- he’s two; he can definitely stick out his tongue) and progressed to, “Watch Mama lick this berry!” slurp slurp slurp “Isn’t that funny??”

Sure enough, he started giggling and licking. Little does he know, licking is the same as tasting. Over the next few weeks, small licks became big licks, and big licks became nibbles, and nibbles became bites!

Arie licking

Unintended consequence: first time we baked together, he licked the dry ingredients.

We’ve moved from a list of two acceptable foods to about 20. We’re still licking too, so here’s hoping that list continues to grow!

There’s my mom hack: teach your picky eater to lick her food. I hope the licks turn into bites for you too!

MOM HACK BREAKDOWN
WHAT- Teach your picky eater to lick her food before rejecting it.
WHY- Because just getting one “taste” in her mouth is one step closer to getting her to actually eat it.
TIPS / HOW- After she takes a couple licks she has to eat it or put it aside, otherwise you might have a lick-fest on your hands. And that’s just bad manners. ;-)

DSC_0013Bio: Jillian Burden is an adoptive mother, blogging about her adoption & parenting journey and all the blessing, lament, joy, and conviction that happen along the way.

Check out Jill’s writing at her blog
Follow Jill on Facebook
And on twitter here

PS If you’re interested in sharing a mom hack let me know by sending an email my way!

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Our Noelle (on her fourth Noel)

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IMG_3736

We have a daughter named Noelle, she’s three and this is her fourth Christmas.  She was born in May, this confuses people.

(He’s got a daughter he calls Easter She was born on a Tuesday night… every day is a winding road… Sheryl Crow anyone?)

I am always intrigued by how people land on their children’s names.  Are they familial,  biblical, ethnically important, from your favorite novel or does the name just embody something special for you?

As for Kel and I we selected our children’s names by the following criteria:

1) Do we like it, is it lovely on our lips?
2) How easily can it be twisted into an elementary school taunt? (We knew Caedmon would get Caveman before we named him that, but still… Caedmon it was)
3) What does the name mean for us?  What does it speak over our child’s life?

And so I can clearly remember the moment that we found the name Noelle for our firstborn. We were driving in our gold Saturn south to Dallas to visit my friend Amy when I came across it in the name book, which was laying open across my lap.

I said Noelle and Kel told me that he didn’t want to name his daughter “Christmas”

I insisted that the word Noel meant more than just Christmas, it meant a turning point in history, the birth of a savior, the beginning of something revolutionary and new.

I was wrong by the way, Noel just means:

no·el noun nō-ˈel

1: a Christmas carol
2: capitalized : christmas

Yet, those stirrings in my heart, all thing things that I thought Noel meant, those are the very reasons that we named her Noelle.

This baby would be the start of something brand new.  We were starting a new family, a new generation through which we could change the brokenness of our own families of origin.

We wanted to do things differently and we were determine to build something strong and lasting, full of love and joy.

We were young, we thought that we were immune to all of the issues that had plagued our parents.  We still blamed them outright for a whole list of things that we didn’t understand and had no right to judge.

And now here I am three years into this mother-daughter journey.

I’n three years, I’ve already walked in my own Mother’s footsteps more often than I thought I would in a lifetime.

I’ve been terrified to find myself at the exact same forks in the road where my mother found herself with me.  We’re different women, with different paths, but as I stood there making my choices, I understood how she landed on hers.

And although there is much journey left ahead of us, God willing I’m discovering that Noelle is one of my life’s true gifts.  With every passing day I understand that God gave her to us exactly as she is to bring healing to some very broken places.

Through being a mother, I’ve forgiven my own.

Through helping Noelle through my same struggles I’ve forgiven my childhood self.

Through enjoying her creative energy I’ve recaptured some of my own.

Through instructing her I’ve learned the patience I so desperately needed. 

My Noelle, my Christmas in May, you truly are a gift to me.  Our God in his infinite wisdom, knew I needed you to become the woman, the mother and the daughter He’s calling me to be.

Merry Christmas Baby, just as you are.

I would love to hear how you’ve become more the person God’s calling you to be through the gift of your children.  Would you share with me?

31 Letters to my Mother {Day 12} On the sacredness of bedtime stories

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My sweet Noelle reading a book that my dear friend Hannah illustrated. For more info click on the picture.

Dear Mom,

You always told me I was your reader and as a toddler, I would bring you books all day long, begging you to read to me.

I remember bringing you Perfect the Pig and Scruffy the Tugboat over and over again. I’m fairly certain those were my favorites.

Then I grew and was able to read to myself.  And I did, I immersed myself in books on those ugly mauve bedspreads you bought for me and Laura.  You remember, right? The ones that you got as a King bedspread at a garage sale but cut and repurposed for the bunk beds to keep us on budget.

I get it now, the garage sales and budgets, sorry for being snotty about it as  kid.

Kel golfs, I read, we chat, it’s like… the best day ever.

I still read these days, all curled up on my bedspread, yet more often than not I’m reading Goodnight Moon or The Cat in the Hat.  I feel the weight and beauty of motherhood during story time.

My heart melts anytime Caedmon brings me a book and thrusts it onto my lap.  He goes to bed with a book every night, and more often than not it’s “Night moon.”

During bedtimes stories, I feel connected to you and all the other mothers who’ve curled up with their children to soothe them to sleep with stories and songs.

Stories and snuggles to set the tone for a night of restful dreaming.

There is something sacred about sharing words on a page with your children.  Something deeply spiritual about watching their eyes come alive as you “do the voices” and point to the pictures.  I could go on and on about the perfume of old books and johnsons baby shampoo.

My snuggly people, reading.

Thanks for teaching me how to read as a child, that legacy continues.

Thanks for reading to me

Thanks for reading this.

Love you, Miss you

LeaRae

31 Letters to My Mother {Day 3} Genetic Panty Problems

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photo by f i R a s’ on Flikr

Dear Mom,

I spent about an hour on the phone yesterday with Aunt Betsy, it’s always so nice to be able to catch up with her.

I told her about a hilarious story from last week, which involved me sending Noelle to school without panties on.  And of course she was wearing a skirt which only compounded the problem.

I had spent a few hours sewing her a new, tiered skirt in black and yellow prints. I was so excited to try it on her, it fit and looked adorable!  I raided her closet and found the perfect black top to complete the ensemble.  As I was getting her dressed I made a mental note to slip some panties on under the skirt.

The morning got away from me and as I ran outside, I staged a few pictures of her in the outfit so I could show off my first garment.

When Kel got to school he sent me frantic texts, Noelle has no underwear on!  

Luckily we were had a backup pair and the day continued on normally, with some laughter and a few moments where I shook my head and mumbled something about my priorities being backward.

Panties are more important than presentation, especially at preschool.

As I chatted with Aunt Betsy she filled me in on a similar situation with you and me.

Apparently when we were going to Baldwin Street CRC I marched up to the front of the sanctuary for children’s church.  Upon reaching the front I promptly lifted my dress to show the congregation my business.  You’d forgotten my panties too.

You must have been mortified.  How much time had to pass before you could laugh about it?

Aunt Betsy and I made a joke about how forgetting panties must be a genetic thing with us.

Then she was able to recall a time when Grandma Mac and some of her sisters had to turn around after walking to school in the snow because one of the girls had forgotten underwear.

So it must run on the Elenbaas side.

Perhaps we need a sign by our front door, where we keep our car keys:

STOP!  Is everyone wearing underwear?

Or: Keep Penny Parts Private!  Wear Underwear! 

Oh mom, this parenting this is a crazy dance and anyone who judges it without experience should be smacked upside the head.

I wish you were around to laugh and cry with me about forgotten panties, lost sleep and late night marriage fights.

Miss & Love you

LeaRae

July, With a Bow (What I’m into this month)

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If you look back over the history of communication you’ll quickly realize how new and strange this e-world really is.  I haven’t met many of you reading this and you haven’t met me.

So in this spirit I am going to, once a month, let you know what I’m up to and into etc.  And I’ll keep it very link-y so we can connect as much as possible.

In return you have to leave a comment and tell me what you’re up to and into, quid pro quo.  I guess it’s like giving you a wrap up of my month’s interests and activities, with a little bow on it.

So here we go, July, with a bow on it.

In our Kitchen

Fresh blueberry pie, beyond beyond.

It’s summer so I’m doing what I do every summer and that is hit up the road side stands and farmer’s markets for fresh produce.  This is sort of hard in Ada as we don’t have many locally grown fruit options other than peaches, but I did pick blueberries at a U-pick in Michigan and craft the most pie-gasmic dessert I’ve ever tasted.   Seriously, make this pie.

I’m also making Kel grill chicken and veggie skewers as often as he’ll oblige me.  There is something about grilled food and berries that screams summer on a plate.

What I’m reading on paper

August will come with a new resolve to complete a few non-fiction books but July was an all novel type of month.  I am coming down off my Elin Hilderbrand streak but this month I devoured her “ The Blue Bistro” and “A Summer Affair.”  Of the two I would recommend “The Blue Bistro” as the latter novel is entirely about a wife and mother having an extra marital affair, which ya know, bugged me a little.

I devoured Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn and connected deeply with the characters in Little Bee by Chris Cleave

Blogs you mustn’t miss 

I visited a lot of the synchroblogs for Sarah Bessey’s “What is saving your life right now” and I recommend you do the same.  Turns out I am saved by being Mama Chicken, in every way.

How to Talk Evangelical by the Amazing Addie Zierman.  If you don’t already stop by her site or subscribe to it, I recommend that you do so immediately.  She’s witty, deep and never fails to hit home.  Soon you will secretly hope she becomes your new BFF, as I do.  (and hope she’s not creeped out by it)

My sweet friend Jill Burden is blogging her way through their Russian adoption.  Jill is a stunning person who never ceases to fill my heart and make it pop with joy.  I highly recommend giving her a follow.

On our TV

Well we’ve been doing a lot of Olympics this past week, otherwise it’s been business as usual.  I’m catching up on Medium with Patricia Arquette from forever ago and in the evenings we catch up on Food Network shows or the Daily Show.

Although I must say that our TV watching is going down and we are thinking of giving up our DVR package and going to a totally Hulu / Netflix based thing.

Creative Outlets 

I’ve been working on a beautiful photography prop tassel blanket for my favorite photographer friend, Courtney Folsom, which isn’t quite done yet, but I’m sure will make it’s way into some gorgeous baby photography soon.

wine and yarn, yes please.

Other than that I have a confession to make, I’ve gotten hooked (no pun intended) on really good yarn.  I found all this hand dyed gorgeous stuff up in gourmet yarn stores in Michigan and I plead the 5th on how much I spent on yarn this month.

I will say that I am happily making some lovely Christmas Presents for friends and family, going for another all home made Christmas. Here is my favorite pattern right now just in case you Crochet.

What the kids and I are up to

We were traveling for almost half the month so there were a lot more playtime options
up in Michigan.  Now that we’re home we’ve been in the middle of a hot streak and since we have no shade in our backyard, we have had to get creative with indoor play.

We have developed a routine of the Farmers Market every Wednesday morning and
Garage Sale-ing every Friday morning.  We get snacks and cruise the town looking for crazy deals and kid clothes, and shoes, they always need shoes.  Last week I found this quirky, vintage cabbage bowl.

I’ve been into sensory play with them indoors so we made a bean/rice box with dried beans and rainbow rice.  This is a great idea if you can be cool with mess as your little ones experiment with the cool textures and colors in the box.  Here’s a how to blog post

I suggest you do it on a sheet or outside if you can, it’s messy, and you have to be okay with that.  Yesterday we hid pennies and coins in the rice/beans and let them hunt through it and keep the cash.

Top Photos From July

Kids on the back patio celebrating freedom in every way

gorgeous Michigan blueberries in the morning sun

My happy place, Lake Michigan, Holland, MI

Childhood = your sister shoving ice cream up your nose

My Uncle Mike teaching Caedmon to dunk

My BFF Becky at the Pizza place where we met over a large pepperoni, we were employees.

Still my baby

Now’s the part where you tell me what you were up to and into this July, wrap it up and put a bow on it!

Mama Chicken is Saving my Life Right now

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she gathers…

Today I am participating in Sarah Bessey’s Sychroblog, because she’s asking a desperately needed Question.  If you don’t read her blog, please do, it’s quenching and beautiful.

What’s Saving Your Life Right Now?

My daughter Noelle is going through a perfectly lovely pretend phase.  She is always a baby animal and I’m the mama.  Tonight I was mama chicken and earlier this afternoon I was mama bird.

This week alone I’ve been mama piglet, mama puppy and mama kitty, but mostly mama chicken.

She calls for me “MAMA CHICKEN?!?” When she doesn’t want to stay in bed and when she needs me to wipe her on the toilet.  I makes me smirk every time, mama chicken, really?

As Noelle runs around like a baby chick, my son learns the word “NO!” and he uses it, again and again and again.  When I try to gather him up to kiss his baby skin he squirms and screams “NO!”  When I offer him his favorite food he throws it against the wall, “NO!” “NO!” “NO!”

When I try to change his diapers the squirming “NO!” chorus continues and I glance at the clock wondering how I am going to manage to entertain them for another 7 hours by myself with nowhere to go.  Can it really only be 9:42?  What the junk is wrong with our clock!?!?

And then Noelle runs in with her pink cape!  “Mama Chicken!  The baby chicken needs you to help build her nest!”  

Suddenly I breathe deep in spite of the summer dryness and I become the mama chicken, strutting proud with yellow feathers.  I chase after her and lift them both up into our bed as we gather the pillows into a circle and settle in the coolness of the ceiling fan.  As my children still for a few moments I  read about Toot and Puddle and Curious George.

This is the same bed that’s been bringing the nightmares lately.  The ones where they fall and drown and run in front of cars.

God how I want to be the mama chicken and gather them under me tightly forever.  How often I pray with words not fully formed that God will give me some sort of guarantee that they’ll live strong and free and decades longer than I do.

All us mama chickens want that don’t we?  But it’s not going to come, this absolution, no matter how we beg, and I beg…

So, in the midst of the summer heat and the nightmares this cool nest of pillows is saving my life.  This reminder that this nesting time isn’t forever and that time isn’t a guarantee.  Mama chicken and her chicks won’t gather skin to skin for too much longer, baby birds always fly the coop eventually, and they’re supposed to, and I want that, truly.

They will fly and my nest will finally be quiet, too quiet.  I know all the older hens tell us constantly to cherish it but it’s not as easy as words.  The poop seems endless, both realistically and figuratively.  There is peanut butter on my walls and crayon on the back of the couch, they take turns getting up every few hours, I’m so tired.

Yet, this nest imagery, the constant reminder that this house which often feels like a trap is a truly soft place to roost.  The vivid imagery that these tired arms are the wings that today can gather them tight and close.

I am the Mama Chicken, and so we will read another book and do the chicken dance and this nest, this pretending this peace with the no guarantees is saving my life.

Daily Bread, Raining Manna

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Give us this day our daily bread.

For a long time it was something I recited as a child because they taught me to.

At some point I realized that it was about asking God for food, something I wasn’t lacking in my blessed, middle class, American life.

As I grew in faith and maturity I became aware that even though I never lacked food, that my world was full of people who were starving to death.  When my friends flew and returned from Africa and Honduras with stories of streets full of hungry children it became more real, this prayer for bread.

Sometimes I wander into my stocked pantry with exotic jars of dates and 4 different kinds of rice and wonder “where do I get off, God?  Why me?”  I have daily bread to spare and it leaves me in a mixed place of thankfulness and fat guilt.

The Hebrew teachers describe scripture as a book full of jewels with many facets.  Each passage and verse filled with layers of meaning, taking us ever deeper.

Lately, Jesus’ prayer for Daily bread has gone beyond food for the stomach and has spoken to the food needed to sustain my hungry soul.

Summer life can be dry for me, leaving me hungry for quiet moments and routine, desperate for sustained rhythm.  Caedmon is going through his “no” phase and Noelle is so resistant against potty training it’s ridiculous.  There are moments I want to cry, or scream, mostly both.  Sometimes this supposedly blissful mom life makes me want to run out the front door like my hair’s on fire.

Lately, when the ends of my hair start to spark and threaten to burn, God’s been showing me my daily bread.  I stand in the kitchen, face down on the cold countertop when suddenly Caedmon peeks around the corner and yells “a-peek-boo!”

That moment is a bit of my daily bread.

Noelle is beautiful and creative and bless her heart she doesn’t stop talking from sun up to sun down.  There are moments that I long for quiet as she peppers me with questions about what skunks like to eat.  Then she starts playing baby bird with me and asks if we can go to her nest (our bed) and read books together.

Suddenly her tweets as she circles pillows are daily bread.

For too long I thought manna was something that only fell in the desert ages ago, then I realize that it’s raining manna in my home.

Even though life is somewhat hot and dry, I am sustained by a portion beyond measure.

Around the world there are millions with hungry stomachs and billions with hungry, lonely souls.  My heart is burdened with the hungry all wondering if they will be seen, loved, fed.

Can I lift up an entire world that you’re already holding in your hands?  May heavy manna find its way to their tongues, their heart feeling full of your sweet sustenance and love.

As for me God, I dare not ask for more.

How about you?  What manna has hit your tongue this week?

Can you see daily bread, even in your dry spell?

Our Mother/Daughter Bucket List

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the plunge

My Noelle is three, and as I watch her jump off the driving board in the crystal blue water it hits me, she’s not a baby anymore.  I’m the mama of a bouncy, beautiful and brave little girl with a world to explore.

As parents, especially with our first borns, the first years are all snuggles and safety, feeding, changing and car seat checks.  We track milestones and baby proof endlessly until one day we wake up and realize that we have so much more than just this one day to sustain, we share a lifetime with our children.

As we cruised down the parkway yesterday I found myself singing “On my Own” from Les Miserables, loudly, with interpretive hand dancing.  Noelle looked at me with a coy curiosity and I had a sudden urge to introduce her to the classic musicals!  Music Man!  Sound of Music!  Phantom of the Opera and My Fair Lady! (even tho the ending drives me  nuts)  

God help me she will have a strong show tune repertoire to hum through life.

I have a daughter to guide into a woman, as the days add up to years I’ll expose her to as much of the earth’s beauty as I can, and inflict as little pain as possible. Continue reading →