Jane, Jack, and Lulie

New Digs

2010-05-26T21:47:00.000-07:00

In his drug induced stupor my sweet husband built a new website for our new family. Yay, for the hernia. Well, sort of. :)

He named the new site: Us Plus Four.

So come on over and visit us there. All you followers, don't forget to switch over for updates in the new digs.

~Cheers!

A Hernia

2010-05-19T22:33:00.000-07:00

"Daddy," Jack eyes a watermelon-sized rock by the old strawberry bed and a dozen more odd shaped boulders, "I don't want you to lift any of the heavy ones because I don't want you to have hernia surgery." Little boy leans down and tries to move them for his Daddy. Together they clear the lawn. Too bad the hernia already happened when Daddy cleared the first dozen bigger ones.

So tomorrow, 8:00 am, Daddy heads in for hernia surgery. How is that for good timing? Now we can recover together. :) Guess you can't plan getting a hernia!

We'd love your prayers.

Dedication

2010-05-16T23:22:00.000-07:00

Today, among family and friends we dedicated Myra Rose to the Lord. Our children smiled and waved to the crowded pews. Lulie chattered on in girlish delight and milled from hand to hand. Finally, Daddy tethered her grinning self to our side for the prayer. Jane, Jack, Lulie, grandparents and Great-Grammie, aunts and uncles, cousins, a baby in our arms -- such blessing near and far. As we stand before God and all, I smile wide. And, even with my eyes closed I feel Craig at my elbow, the best part. I know every step will be blessed. Lord, our daughter is yours.

Who knew on the one year anniversary of my half-marathon we'd dedicate our fourth child to the Lord? And to think in three short days my brother now leaves for Africa. Has it really been a year since Craig was there? I wonder what the next one-year-stride will bring.

Gratitude:

22. The bleating cry of my baby.

23. Dirt under two-year-old fingernails.

24. My belly sinking back to normal size.

25. Going barefoot.

26. Painting fingernails with daughters.

27. Tall glasses of water.

28. Stretchy swaddling blankies, bright colors.

29. The guileless blue of my husband's eyes.

30. Little boy who holds my hand so cars won't hit me.

Myra, Meet the Family

2010-05-13T14:41:00.000-07:00

Fresh out into the great big wide world.

Wrinkled toes,

a screamin' bath,

and meet your brother.

His name is Jack.

This is Jane.

She loves your toes.

And Lulie, she loves your tiny hands.

Home.

Myra Rose

2010-05-10T22:42:00.000-07:00

Please welcome MYRA ROSE.

8 lbs., 1.5 oz. Soft, sweet, and still smelling of heaven. Myra Rose.

(Pronounced: MI-rah)

Singing

2010-05-05T17:39:00.000-07:00

"Shhh Jack, Momma's singing."

My fingers feel stiff, but the old piano keys still find their place under each fingertip. An old melody threads me through quarter notes and crescendos, metered time and counterpoint.

"HOW are you DOING that?" Jack furrows his brow, his mouth agape.

Jane balances with Lulie in a tiny rocking chair, "I LOVE that singing," she whispers.

I smile. I can't even sing one note on tune. It's all in my fingers.

They call it singing.

40 Weeks

2010-05-03T06:49:00.000-07:00

"Momma," Jane's still barefoot while we wait, "I have a feeling the baby's gonna pop out on her due date." Auntie Cerissa and I smile. Guess we're all a little distracted these days.

40 weeks. TODAY. Still no popping.

***

Another week of gratitude.

11. Shattered oatmeal bowl, no glass embedded in small bare feet.

12. Husband-hands that sweep up glass shards and sticky oats.

13. 40 weeks of baby curled in my womb.

14. Hospital bags packed.

15. Stacks of clean laundry.

16. Red geraniums like Gramma used to plant.

17. Awaiting arms to gather my children and their suitcases.

18. Strawberries and whip cream.

19. Cucumbers and olive oil.

20. A quiet nest of waiting before the whole world changes.

21. Another baby.

A Man

2010-04-30T21:39:00.000-07:00

First, they pull the grass. Daddy chops off long sideways roots of quack grass that reach into the garden. The children trail behind and gather armloads of clumpy sod, pile it in the wheelbarrow.

Jane pokes a fresh clump with her toe, "I think I need a MAN'S help." She looks around, and then gives the clod a little kick.

Daddy hacks another clean swipe at the garden's edge. He pauses, "Hey Jack, anytime someone says they need a MAN'S help, you should help them right away."

"Oh. Okay." He grabs Janie's clod and tosses it into the wheelbarrow. Jane grins.

Off to the left, another clump of grass, "I think I need a MAN," she looks around for Jack, "because I don't want to bend down and pick that up." She tries not to smile and raises her eyebrows. He slogs it into the wheelbarrow.

At the end of the garden they race back to Daddy. He saws open bags of coffee grounds and scatters long black stripes over the dirt. They wriggle their toes in it.

As daylight wanes we gather garden trowels and buckets, a pair of old blue gloves, and go inside. Jane pauses at the door, "Jack, I think I need a MAN. Will you close the door after Lulie comes in?"

"Yeah, I will." With a sideways grin he turns to wait for little sis, that same long-suffering streak of his father a badge of honor.

Real Gentle

2010-04-28T14:59:00.000-07:00

Jack finds me out on the couch. I squeeze my eyes shut and sigh. Nap's over.

"Momma." I sit up and wedge a pillow in my back. He sidles up next to me.

"Hi, bud." We sit and stare into space, snuggle. I check my watch. We stare some more.

He nuzzles his face to me and squeezes my arm, "I'll hold you really gentle," he says, "because I know you have a baby in your tummy." He looks up, "I won't forget."

"I know," we smile and then sit some more.

Five more days. Wonder if she'll come on time.

Secrets

2010-04-26T07:06:00.000-07:00

"Sweetheart come here, what did He tell you today?"

In the morning my children trundle breakfast bowls into the dishwasher and race to the black couch. They pass Bibles from lap to lap until everyone has the one with their favorite pictures. When they read it's a jumble. Jack sings Zachaeus, Lulie shouts, "Dat bad," and pounds her favorite picture of Goliath. Jane shushes them both between stories. Sometimes they lull into quiet whispers.

Then they find secret places to pray.

Jack crawls under the wardrobe. Janie squeezes into a small shelf on a nightstand. Lulie toddles down the hallway.

Later they tell me about prayer.

"He told me when I think about something I wanna do that's bad not to do it," Jane says. "I said, 'Will you help me?' and He said, 'YES.'"

Jack squeezes my hand. "I said, 'Thank-you for dying for me SO MUCH,'" he whispers, "and He said, 'I love to die for you SO MUCH.'"

I find Lulie down the hall calling, "I love you, God. I love you, GOD."

And we call in the day with secrets of love.

I love you, God.

***

Thankfulness:

4. baby rolling in my belly

5. ribs numb, spread wide to encircle the child

6. husband who makes breakfast oatmeal

7. twenty minutes of bare feet before I pull on maternity support hose, again

8. maternity support hose

9. my doctor, the who came middle of the night to deliver Lulu

10. a still moment before children pad down the hallway into the morning

Sorrrryyyy, Momma

2010-04-24T16:16:00.000-07:00

Anyone else had a few days like this?

"You can't hide from God things," Jack negotiates a mouthful of oatmeal, "Yeah, because He knows what you have done." With a pause and a swallow, "He sees it INSIDE you."

Morning light shines across our table as the boy shovels in more gruel. Inside of me. I probably look all scribbled green. Green and no guile. I suppose like Lulie I'm pigtails and green tummy to God. And sorrrryyyy. Most days I still can't believe he forgives me over and over and OVER for all my faults. For not being perfect. I'm not perfect. I sigh.

The morning settles around us in breakfast bowls and puddles of milk. And as grace swoops down, I breathe in the slow moments. Children chatter, one helps Lulie scoop bites. Even as I sigh, I long to obey this God. He forgives me.

Manure.

2010-04-23T12:22:00.000-07:00

Manure. Our children can hardly believe their ears, "Cow POOP?!" Jack squints one eye. Janie laughs, "In the GARDEN?"

Daddy distributes 20 bags across our back vegetable garden. He empties them in big black strokes.

"Hey Daddy," Jane eyes the remaining sacks, "how do you think they get the cows to poop in the bags?"

A miracle, I suppose. Any takers?

Follow Me

2010-04-20T17:15:00.000-07:00

"Momma, you can say, 'Follow me,'" Jack says, "because I will follow you all the days of your life." He tilts his head, grins. Follow me. My boy leans on one elbow and crunches another bite of cereal. I swallow more coffee.

Later, I watch them trounce through damp morning grass and clamor up rocks. They pull dandelions, squish spiders, trowel their fingers in the stream. They follow each other. One plops a pine cone in the water, and all three lay tummy down on the bridge, watch it float by. Another finds a dead bee, all fuzz and wings, well, one wing anyway. We save it to show Daddy.

Without meaning to they step into the day, all wet grass and muddy trails, tilting their heads like their mother and grinning like their father.

"Everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher."
~Luke 6:40

Follow me. Sort of takes my breath away.

My Jane

2010-04-18T15:32:00.000-07:00

"Hey Momma, I don't really know what God thinks of you talking that way."

Oh yeah.

Anyone else have to reign in their tongue lately?

Thankfulness:

1. Little one holding littler one's hand across the street.

2. Half cup of coffee.

3. Mussy curls, pigtails, smudgy feet.

Tokens of Love

2010-04-16T21:30:00.000-07:00

"You're looking so grown up, Momma." Jane scoots over between our breakfast bowls and pats my shoulder.

Jack nods, "You're lookin' just so grown up."

"Your eyes are green." Jack stares at my face when I tuck him into bed. "I love them," he says. Before I can smile, he pulls my face down, kisses the tip my nose.

Green eyes and all grown up.

Break out the GOGGLES!

2010-04-15T22:49:00.000-07:00

That's RIGHT!

It's SWIM weather!

Or rather sprinkler weather.

You know, since the thermometer hit almost 70 today.

***
Also, news flash: Jack is totally set on naming the baby OLIVE. Lucy goes back and forth on the name. Jane is against it. And Craig says the only way he will name a child OLIVE is if she is born with a pimiento in her lips. Plus, it's not 4 letters.

Soooo any more name ideas? :)

Poor Baby

2010-04-14T22:03:00.000-07:00

Poor baby. Croup blossomed into a drippy soggy wheezing cold. Cough. Fever. Lethargic eyes half open. She laid on the couch for four days until we hauled in to the doctor. Something just didn't seem right.

As it turns out, the human ear can hold an ENORMOUS amount of wax. After a five minute excavation per ear we uncovered double ear infections. (And I mean EXCAVATION. I was seriously FLOORED. One piece was a half inch long!)

In any case, praise the LORD for Motrin and antibiotics. Lulie's like a brand-new girl.

*** Oh, and THANK-YOU for all your name suggestions! I have a feeling we will be taking our list to the hospital, so seriously, keep 'em coming. :)

Good NEWS!

2010-04-13T17:40:00.000-07:00

No more breech baby! Our darlin' is HEAD DOWN.

Thank-you for your prayers and suggestions. {HUG}

Now, one other small problem...

She has no name. Help!

The only rule: 4 letters. You know, like Jane, Jack, and Lucy!

Names, anyone?

Croup

2010-04-12T08:59:00.000-07:00

Croup stinks. After two LONG nights I think we're finally over the worst of it.

And just to make my sweet mother smile, you'll be glad to know that Lulu successfully used and flushed all the rest of our Kleenex. To her credit she is now holding the box saying, "Bad, bad, BAD. Dat naughty." This is after wetting down her head with the cold air humidifier. Think she's feeling better?

Ok. Another day.
:)

Jack

2010-04-10T20:29:00.000-07:00

"Hey Daddy," Jack looks up from his paper, marker still bleeding into the masterpiece, "when I go up to heaven, I will show my picture to Jesus and explain it to him." Jack furrows his brow and continues coloring. It's a picture of the cross. "This will be my card for God," his voice quiet, it sounds like he's forgotten Daddy and me. "This will be my card for the one who died for me."

The one who died for me. Sort of makes everything else seem peripheral.

Bigger

2010-04-09T17:17:00.000-07:00

"Well Momma, at least we didn't lose Lulie's contact." Jane looks over to me and raises both arms, "What could be worse than that?!"

I sigh.

She walks across the room and leans down on the couch arm. "Momma?"

"I know, honey." She wriggles under my arm and leans in. I kiss her hair.

"Momma, you're bigger than what I did." She kisses my arm.

And as we sit cuddled together I understand why Jesus always forgives me. He's bigger than what I do.

Makin' Toast

2010-04-08T13:12:00.000-07:00

Gravy

2010-04-07T15:33:00.000-07:00

"Hey Momma, gravy's really easy." She crunches a mouthful of cucumber. "Maybe Gramma can give you the recipe."

"And you can make mashed potatoes." She pauses mid-crunch, "Gramma's mashed potatoes are gooder than good."

That's for SURE.

The Beginning

2010-04-06T17:47:00.000-07:00

Jane slides over next to me. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and we settle into the black couch. More and more we just sit. Gathered together, hands on my belly, we wait for the baby. Go ahead nudge our hands. And today, her mess of curls on my shoulder, Jane and I listen. Daddy bought us a theatrical reading of Genesis. The beginning. One precious child tucked under my ribs, another under my arm, still another sucking her thumb, and another shooting darts at a spider on the ceiling, the beginning.

Then, her voice soft like wind, "You're my best friend." Janie's blue eyes capture my face.

Resurrection Day

2010-04-04T14:17:00.000-07:00

Breakfast and he's directing the play. "I'll be Jesus," Jack says, "and you can be an angel," he points at Jane and waves his arms, "that flies down from heaven, and sits on the tomb and says, 'HE IS RISEN!'" Jack uses his man-voice.

"And Lucy can be the women that come," Janie says, "and you," she points to me, "you can be the disciples." She turns to the living room, "I'll say, 'Why are you looking for the living among the dead?!" She turns a circle in her Easter dress, "Quick go tell the disciples and Peter!"

And so the morning begins. HE IS RISEN!

HE IS RISEN INDEED.

Babies

2010-04-02T20:40:00.000-07:00

"Momma, I wish Gramma would have a baby."

Breech Baby

2010-03-31T17:02:00.000-07:00

No-make-up-me and sweet baby. 35 wks.

Doc says she's breech. My ribs agree.

So pretty please, little miss, do me a somersault.

The rest of you feel free to say a little prayer. :)

Holding My Baby

2010-03-28T15:24:00.000-07:00

I get up. A living room floor littered with games and pre-breakfast fun greets me. I pour oats and flax and berries, start the microwave, call for my children. The two little ones sweep Chutes and Ladders into the Candy Land box and knock a deck of cards out of the cabinet.

Little black baby doll in tow, Jane bounds into the kitchen. "Hey Momma," she hugs her baby, "can I keep holding my baby before I clean up, and while I clean up, and after I clean up?" She smiles at baby. "Because the simple things really matter," she says.

Simple things.

"Sure." I smile too. The baby in my belly kicks. I reach for a coffee cup, "Sure, honey." She's already out directing traffic.

Simple things.

What are your simple things?

Wormie

2010-03-24T14:17:00.000-07:00

Thanks, Auntie Cerissa, Uncle Dan, and the wild boy cousins.

Now the kids are BONKERS

about WORMS!

Welcome to the worm mansion.

The Palace

2010-03-22T22:22:00.000-07:00

"Come into my palace," she says. And the remnants of a garden transform like Cinderella's pumpkin. "Come on, you guys." Old tomato stakes turn into javelin. Gray sunflower skeletons rise into the walls of a palace. They stomp and scuffle through dirt, raise clouds of dust. "It's the best part," she says, the dust. Lulie scoops up piles earth, puffs them down into her lap. Scoop, scoop, more dust.

From far off I hear Jane call, "Momma, you're highly favored!"

Later, freshly scrubbed, my children fall into bed. I tuck them in like fresh laundry, smell their sweet skin. As I turn to pull shut the door Jack calls, "Sleep good, my angel!" And I tip-toe down the hall, all my world a palace.

The Beating Game

2010-03-15T22:06:00.000-07:00

{A Tutorial on How to Win}

"'I beat you," Janie chirps. "I won." All blue eyes and grin, she reaches for the leftover olives.

"Nuh uh," Jack garbles. Burrito bulges in his cheeks. "I turned OFF the beating game," he says and opens his eyes real wide.

"So." Jane mimics the eyes, "I still beat you."

"I turned OFF the beating game."

"So."

"Well, you finished first anyway," I say. "You didn't tell him you were racing, honey." I reach for her plate and sidle it into the dishwasher.

Jane momentarily interrupts the stand-off, "Well Momma, that's the only way I think I can win."

Haha, anyone else remember any handy tricks to winning?

A Gift

2010-03-14T15:11:00.000-07:00

"Momma, I had mercy on Jane." Jack tiptoes into my room.

I sigh and rub the short night of sleep from my eyes. "You did?" He nods. "I'm so proud of you."

Jane shrugs, "And I whispered in his ear, 'I love you. I'm almost to cry I love you so much,'" she says.

I toss my feet out of bed and the whole morning cascades like a symphony into motion, perfectly in tune. The gift of grace.

Breakfast

2010-03-11T23:03:00.000-08:00

We eat oats for breakfast. On bright mornings when the table shines with sun I see a hundred hand-prints scattered around bowls and crumbles. Janie still chews on after I clear dishes and spoons, sippers of milk and coffee cups.

Between bites she drawls on, "Momma, how about we call Fridays, Gray Friday, I mean Black Friday," she swallows, "because that was when the sky turned black."

"The sky turned black?"

"Yeah, like when Jesus died." It's her favorite story. She flutters on. Ravens feed Elijah, and Joseph's brothers sell him into slavery, Esther, David, adventures of playing spiders with Jack, games of Billy Goats Gruff. Her words, a river of days, rush past me.

The bowl half empty, the table cleared and wiped, Janie leans on one elbow. "Hey Momma, in heaven will there be something greater than talking do you think?"

Talking. She blinks. For a moment we both wait. "Probably."

She grins, "What could it be?! Oh, I wonder what it could be." And a small pool of quiet is washed away with the wonder.

What could be better than talking?

Faith

2010-03-10T22:05:00.000-08:00

"She's probably the size of a sparkle!" Jack pinches his fingers together.

"Probably the size of a mustard seed," Janie says.

A sparkle. A mustard seed. A new life. My friend is pregnant with a miracle.

Don't all children pray for miracles?

And I suppose like faith, they sparkle and grow out of tiny mustard seeds.

Mordecai

2010-03-07T16:09:00.000-08:00

"Here, just reach out your golden septor when you want someone to come." Jane grabs an old pink hanger out of Jack's hands, and points it at Lulie, "See, like this. You can come now Lulie." Lucy grins and barrels up onto the hearth, a pile of royal pillows and blankies.

"I wanna be Queen Esther," Jack says.

"You can't."

"I wanna be Esther!"

After a spell of yelling and haranguing on the pink hanger Jane settles the matter, "You can't. It's like how I can have babies and you can't."

"Because she's a girl and you're a boy," I call from the kitchen.

Jane raises her eyebrows, "It's like that. It doesn't really make sense."

"Oh, ok." Jack plays Mordecai.

Prospectin'

2010-03-05T16:20:00.000-08:00

Jane and Jack prospect the yard. An old sprinkler joint from the repair bin, last year's gooseberry netting, cardboard, branches, leaves, a hand trowel, the occasional marble or bead or smooth stone, they gather treasure.

Lulie knows the game. Dirt and all.

I squeeze into a child-sized picnic seat and warm my face in the sun. "I'm exhausted."

"Hey Momma," Janie looks up, "ask God, if you want to be tough." I watch her eyes, smooth lakes of blue. "Have you asked Him?"

Oh. Nope. I was just gonna suffer through. Silly me.

Da Man

2010-02-27T21:51:00.000-08:00

Before we left, Jack instructed Daddy, "Jane won't get to come with me, and Lulie won't get to come with me so you'll have to watch over them." He tilted his head, watched Daddy nod.

"I'll watch over them for ya, buddy."

Then we left. Jack took me on a date. Tea and a cupcake with white frosting, warm milk with raspberry syrup, I love dates. We settled into a small table, the room bright with sun. Between the two of us we gathered napkins and straws, a fork and more napkins. He made runs to the trash. Oh, and he paid. Did I mentioned he paid? Daddy gave him money and Jack paid for the date. Those little shoulders squared and eyes bright, he barely peered over the counter. "I'm da man, Momma, so I gotta pay," he explained.

And so I let him.

Angel Armies

2010-02-25T18:32:00.000-08:00

"If you choose the Lord your God, Lucy, you'll SEE God and the angel armies in heaven," Jane whispers to Lulie.

Later Jane and Jack ask to try out a homemade sling with REAL rocks. Jack waves his arms and spreads all his fingers to demonstrate. The belt and rubber band contraption looks like it really could kill someone, but I let them give it a try.

Everyday we memorize a little more of the epic exchange between David and Goliath. All audacity and courage, David runs to Goliath in the name of the LORD of hosts. The LORD of armies. Hosts.

All through the house and yard, my children slay Goliath again and again; angel armies poise for victory. Heavenly ranks descend from the skies invisible except in the audacity and courage of my little ones. Goliath shrinks, a giant smudge of a man now snuffed out by all the glory. LORD of hosts, the armies await!

Later I hear from the playroom, "Ok, now I am going to have to behead you." Serious business. Yeah, David actually cuts off Goliath's head. Anyone else forget that part?

Jack

2010-02-20T15:54:00.000-08:00

"Watch out," Jack calls, "there's a berry strong person coming up the stairs."

Goggles on, baby bottle and hack saw in tow, he pokes his head in the kitchen, "We're playing DOCTOR." He raises both eyebrows, "I'm the DOCTOR." Still for only a moment, he rounds the corner off to work. No doubt Jane or Lulie awaits his miracle cure.

Between peanut butter sandwiches, floors to sweep, dishes and laundry and piles of story books, the day lilts by. Jack asks if we can call the new baby Babe-the-Blue-Ox. He offers to lend Lulie his toothbrush.

When I tuck him into bed I lean down eye to eye with this boy. He brushes stray hairs from my face, presses my cheeks between small hands. I watch those blue eyes. "Who are you gonna be someday, Jack?"

He smooths my hair, pauses. "I'm gonna be like Daddy someday."

Of course, Daddy. I see it there guileless and unflappable.

I remember how Janie called out this morning, "Look, I'm dressed," and raised both shoulders. And as I stare now at my boy I still hear his remark, "Mmm. You're pretty, Jane."

Yes, like Daddy.

Good Guys

2010-02-18T21:40:00.000-08:00

"Momma," Janie tilts a mess of curls to one side, "do you know for sure we're gonna turn out to be good guys?"

Good guys. She pictures Daddy and me. I pause, reach for another slice of bread, spread out peanut butter to the corners. I remember how I lugged Lulie out of the pantry a week ago, peeled back her pretty eyelid frantic to find a tiny contact lens, how I combed the house with a flashlight and my bad eyes. I looked and looked and sobbed, shouted for everyone to get their jammies on already. The invisible lens takes a month to replace. I can still feel the sinus headache I had when we left for the doctor the next day.

And even so, Lulie passed the vision test, with the wrong contact. Passed.

I wonder if I passed my test. Of faith.

Children learn foremost by passive observation. Ken Ortiz's words ring in my ears, take my breath away.

Jane

2010-02-17T22:18:00.000-08:00

Just like her father, she reminds me to brush away the worries of the day.

In the Blankets

2010-02-08T10:55:00.000-08:00

"How did you get writing on your neck?" Daddy asks Jane.

"Oh, it's probably because I had a pen under my pillow last night, and it wouldn't write on my arm."

The days page by and we play. Blankets and forts.

"Hey, I have cowboy underwear on, and I'm wearing a cowboy hat!" Jack strides in. Sweats and a dress tie complete the look.

Later, I notice a red waistband, "Your unders are on backwards the tag's in front."

"I'll fix 'em tomorrow," he says and faces the day with a smile.

Lulie's only lost a couple of contacts. One was tucked up in her eyelid above the iris. Apparently, she sports quite an acreage up there. At least it wasn't dried and crunchy when we found it. :) Speaking of crunchy, any of you contact people ever re-hydrated a dried up contact and used it? It looks fine.

And every day the children smile, laugh, test the boundaries, and rebound with ease. Resilient. I take note. Days pass like tides washing in and out. I'm more tired and worry less.

Miracles.

"Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see." - C.S. Lewis

The Management

2010-01-25T21:22:00.000-08:00

"I don't know where it came from," she says, "but I put it on my face like make-up." Glitter, it's good for almost anything.

In other news, dilating drops smell like violets AND so do my hands. You'd think I'd be a pro after a modest 47 drops of various sorts in the last five days, haha. I also placed and removed Lulie's new contact lens four times today. Yay! It's clumsy but hey, we're doin' it! :) Since I'm on a roll as amateur med student I also super-glued my left index finger after a bad encounter with the bread knife. Worked GREAT.

{sigh}

Another good day.

Sunglasses

2010-01-24T16:23:00.000-08:00

Dilated pupils do have benefits.

Momma and Dad buy you SUNGLASSES!

Think she likes them? They'll be dilated for six weeks.

Now, tomorrow we get a contact lens and this precious eye will be fully operational. Hard to believe it's totally blind right now!

Patching will be a breeze after this!

***

Jack grabs Lulie's hands, "Are you singing for joy for me, Lulie?" She giggles. He off. She sings a jumble of ABC's and runs after him.

The world is still simple.

The OR

2010-01-22T16:47:00.000-08:00

"Jesus love me, this I know," I sing the words.

A nurse with white skin and pink cheeks administers sleeping gas. It's a mask, but Lucy doesn't mind. Her eyes flutter. She waves an arm. I hold her small pudgy hand and lean close. "Yes, Jesus loves me - - yes," the chorus encircles us. She's asleep and still I sing out the last words.

So many blue gowns and each one waits. And still I sing. All the perfection of a surgeon's team, the intersection of man and science, microscopes and scalpels that make 1mm incisions, precision, and still, they wait for my song's end. An unexpected reverence.

"Can I kiss her cheek?"

"Yes, you may."

Another nurse whisks me away. I feel as though we walk on water.

Post-Op

2010-01-20T17:52:00.001-08:00

Before surgery.

Waiting to leave.

Relatively un-phased by the whole thing.

Sweetie.

Waking up. Slow. Post-op.

Ready for food again.

{Sigh} Thank-you, LORD!

First thing, our surgeon said the cataract was much bigger than expected once he opened the eye. It's amazing she could see so well. The Lord is good. Thank-you for your love and prayers. Now contacts and patching and grace. Day by day. Thanks.

Surgery

2010-01-18T15:51:00.000-08:00

So, it's a go.

Tomorrow. Wednesday.

Check-in 7:15 am. Surgery 9:00.

Would ya'll mind praying?

Lord, if you are willing, I know you can heal me.

A grand request.

A grand God.

Here we go.

These Days...

2010-01-17T21:58:00.000-08:00

"Look, I'm dressed," Jane announces.

Jack looks up from a huge floor puzzle, "Hmm. You're pretty, Jane."

She smiles. Half across the room, I feel pretty too.

It's dinner. "Toots are not appropriate dinner conversation, Jack," I say. "Jack?"

Janie raises her eyebrows, "You just whisper, 'Excuse me.'" She smears mayo onto her bread, glances at him.

Jack's all mirth. Sitting up on one knee he leans on an elbow, "Well," he pauses, "I said, 'Excuse me,' in my heart."

"Jane, Janie," Jack calls, "wanna play Jesus-dying-on-the-cross, where I'm Jesus?"

"Yeah, come on!"

Before I know it, they haul off to Pilate, Herod, a cross, resurrection, miracles at my elbow.

Daddy

2010-01-14T21:10:00.000-08:00

Daddy makes everything all better.

Change of Plans

2010-01-11T20:30:00.000-08:00

The surgeon's office called. His favorite assistant for cataract removal is GONE this Wednesday. Sooo, surgery is canceled. We're waiting a week. Now, the big day is January 20. Don't you just love a surgeon who makes everything perfect for a delicate procedure? AND, turns out he performs this particular surgery almost every week. A practiced hand, what a gift.

So, what sort of questions should I make sure to ask before the big day? I feel like I should know, but haven't got a clue. I guess there are the obvious, like when she can last eat or drink, but other than that I sort of floundering. Any friendly advice?

The BODY Book

2010-01-10T16:33:00.000-08:00

"It's something I saw in the Body Book," she says.

"Oooh. So, it's sort of alive and something you saw in the Body Book?"

"Yeah." Janie grins and dips her grilled-cheese in a ramekin of salad dressing. We're playing Guess What I'm Thinking. She's winning.

Before we know it Jane describes a cut she used to have on her finger and how inside it looked just like in the Body Book.

The Body Book - 912 color pages of well, the BODY, human anatomy. It spells out every system and part of the body. I'm sort of a nerd; I love books like that. The children POUR over it.

"Yeah, but you can't really see it," she continues.

"Ok. But you said it's pink?"

Janie bobs her head up and down, "Yeah, and sort of comes out of your back and into your arms."

Daddy grabs the Body Book and the hunt is on. We look at skin and bones, fingers, joints, nerves, and finally settle on MUSCLES. That's it, muscles! Even though we guess her idea, Jane shines. We're playing. Isn't that how kids say, I love you, at play?

Simple Things

2010-01-08T21:23:00.000-08:00

'"Coat, coat!" she chants. Lulie grabs at my elbow and waves a brown coat in circles. Never mind the bare feet, she's suiting up.

"Oh honey, you don't need your coat. Go play." She's a whirlwind of clothes. Froofy dresses, sister's socks, brother's unders pulled up to the waist through one leg-hole, a shirt or pants from two seasons back, she loves fashion.

Now, a lap or two around the house, she's back, "COOoat, ME!"

"Do you think you're going outside?"

"YEAH." She grins.

I sigh and wriggle pudgy arms into the coat. Still no shoes.

"Help-me, help-me." She gestures toward the kitchen. "Help-me, help-ME."

As I round the corner a gust of wind blows through the window. "JANE," I call. The window is WIDE open, no screen. "Janie, WHERE are you?"

Lulie's climbs onto the table bench, barrels up to the window bare feet and January frost no deterrent. "We're OUTSIDE, Momma!" Janie calls. "We climbed THROUGH the window!" Over the table and through the window, proud as punch, a practically perfect day.

A Little Glob of Love

2010-01-03T16:45:00.000-08:00

It's a tumult in the bathroom. Pudgy feet pad down the hallway, and Lulie rounds the corner. Someone said, "Toothpaste," and Lucy's on a dead-run. Half-pajama-clad, she's shouting, "Me! Me!" In the bathroom Jack's usually on the counter dispensing water. Janie polices various toothpaste tubes; miscellaneous clothes scatter the floor. A squashed toilet paper roll is discarded in the corner.

Jane grins at Lulie, "Oh, you're coming in joy," she says. And in a moment of Biblical theater she exclaims, "Your faith has made you well. Here let's put more yummies on." Lulie's toothbrush is only partly saturated in spit, but she beams as Jane plops a generous blob of paste right on top.

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-24T07:00:00.000-08:00

The BEST part of {Christmas} cheer...

If any of you who missed Janie's rendition, it's HERE!

And, may the savior himself, {Jesus}, bless each one of you with joy and strength.

{GLORY to God in the HIGHEST!}

Gonna be a MAN

2009-12-22T22:03:00.000-08:00

How is it that this sweet boy

wakes up one morning

suddenly a FORCE to be reckoned with?

Watch out world.

He's a BOY.

Simple Pleasures

2009-12-20T14:41:00.000-08:00

Take it slow. The moments pass so quickly.

Christmas is Coming!

2009-12-18T11:54:00.000-08:00

Christmas is coming. The goose is getting fat!

Pleased to put a penny in the old man's hat.

If you haven't got a penny, a haypenny will do.

If you haven't got a haypenny,

then GOD bless YOU!

God bless you, gentleman,
God bless you.

If you haven't got a haypenny,
then GOD bless YOU!

(Anyone else hear Miss Piggy singing this as a kid?)

Lunch. With. Company.

2009-12-16T17:17:00.000-08:00

Ok. It's a lovely lunch, company and all seated around the table. Everyone visits, nibbles peanut butter and honey sandwiches. Smiles, laughes, no one careening off the bench. Lulie leans over and kisses my shoulder, little sweetie. She grins, hands behind her back. I mean who wouldn't soak up the attention? Then in a stoke of one-year-old genius, she decides to really impress everyone. I glance down just in time to see pudgy little hands now showing the whole table a handful of poo. Yeah, poo. Company. at. the. table. How long does this stage last?

Christmastide

2009-12-13T20:14:00.000-08:00

In those days...
Luke 2:1-14

10 Years, My Honey

2009-12-12T22:40:00.000-08:00

Ten years ago today. That's when Craig started courting me. Cold and icy and December wind, it was a day like today. He said he'd have none of this dating business. Dating is for the birds. Could he please court me, he asked.

Court. It seems strange now, we spent that whole time, days, weeks, a couple of months, not so much as a kiss. Just miles and miles of words, jokes and questions, belly laughs and stolen glances. We ate at Perkins, had "our" table. We knew the servers names.

On his birthday he asked me to marry him, held my hand and lassoed the moon. Held my hand, a first. And asked my daddy.

It doesn't take so long to plan a wedding. Don't we just buy a dress and get a church, I asked? It was all so simple, like how we hiked up a waterfall one afternoon just for the fun of it. Our faces wet, the view stretching on and out a million miles, simple.

And all along, he held my hand. Here and there at first. Then lots. Encyclopedias of conversation, atlases of adventure, and he held my hand.

A kiss and a wedding. Three kids, four. Ten years. I couldn't be a richer woman.

Surgery

2009-12-11T13:03:00.000-08:00

January 13. Surgery. A pinpoint incision in the new year. Each day closer. A long tether of faith pulls me, encircles the fear I expect. Cataract surgery. On Lulie.

"The hearing ear and the seeing eye
the LORD has made them both."

I'm finding submission more and more like the deep breath of an athlete.

Ready or not

here we come.

Janie pats my shoulder, "Momma." I'm half-listening. "Momma, I'm trying to be patient with you." She's on tip-toe, "Momma, I'm trying to be patient with you. I don't know if I can, but I'm trying to." She circles me like a tether ball.

"Momma?"

Janie grabs my hand, "Can you read me a story?" A pile of books at the bottom of the stairs. A hand to hold.

A leash of love.

Honey-Dog

2009-12-09T22:22:00.000-08:00

"And everything that is precious to us I would lock in there." Jane nuzzles a little closer to our English Setter. Sprawled out in front of the fire place, I'm not sure who is queen of the dog bed.

"Like our Bibles,"' Janie says, "I would lock our Bibles in the gated off spot." She rubs the soft curls on Honey's head, "At least I would try to get the Bibles and lock 'em in there." She's imagining a room just for Honey, the kind you can hide in if bad guys break into your house.

And if we had an extra Bible," she raises both eyebrows, "I would maybe give it to the bad guys so they could become Christians like us." She hugs Honey-dog, whispers something in her ear. "Then they could read it and maybe go to heaven like us." Heaven, it's settled.

It's a Wonderful Life

2009-12-08T17:06:00.000-08:00

I round the corner. Lulie, alone in the tub, blinks big doe eyes at me, "Poo." Lots.

Janie pipes in, "Momma, I was laying right by her because I didn't know she would poop in the tub." Yeah, hair wet. Wet floor. Wet rug, towels, children.

Bleach. Lots.

In other news, Lucy dismantled and ate raw garlic. Jane talked Jack into letting the dog out because she lost her boots. Lucy tried to eat baby Jesus, and only almost has a black eye after cavorting down the stairs. Oh yeah, we also smashed another pretty red Christmas ball.

Ah, it's a wonderful life.

It's a ...

2009-12-06T15:25:00.000-08:00

GIRL!

Turns out all this time the good Lord's been growing a sweet little baby GIRL in my belly! And all along I was CERTAIN: It's a BOY. Ha-ha, a splendid surprise. One more GIRL. So there you have it, another little sack of sugar to add to our line up. Blessing upon blessings.

And a little button nose too!

Any tips for a house full of girls? Neither Craig nor I had ANY sisters growing up! Hee-hee.

Blood Clot

2009-12-03T20:59:00.000-08:00

It's in Momma's foot. It's the shape of a Flinstone chewable vitamin. Doc said it won't kill her. Hope it's the only one.

Ya'll had such splendid advice on Anemia. Ma is completely revived thanks to a combination of your words of wisdom. So, blood clots? This is her first one. Being that you only get to have a few "first's" in life She's trying to keep a sunny disposition 'bout the whole thing.

Lulie's New Tricks

2009-11-27T22:21:00.000-08:00

Pouty lip.

Tidy nose. (Also doubles as, "Shhhh.")

Little sack of sugar.

For a Little While

2009-11-23T21:16:00.000-08:00

"Herod is dead! HEROD is DEAD." Jack's hollering the morning in with a dramatic re-interpretation of the Christmas story. "He's dead! I killed him." All three-year-old gusto he thunders down the hallway. Our bedroom door rattles. None of this pansy Santa stuff.

Later Jane introduces Lulie to lipstick. It's the sort of affair that ends with jagged pouty lips, big smiles, and freak-out-Mom about the big stain on Lulie's sweater. Janie responds, "Well, at least I'm not killed, Momma."

The afternoon wears on. Jack assembles, dismantles, and reassembles two puzzles. Lulie colors a pictures, eats some green crayon, colors her ear. Jane tries to knit, rolls a tremendous ball of turquoise yarn. In the whirlwind she stops, "Momma, if I drank a bunch of water would I get a big hump on my back?"

After good night kisses, hugs, prayers, lights out, we slip back down the hall. Some nights they tallywagger over closing their door. Tonight no one gripes. Jane whispers, "Jack, do you want to close the door so we can talk to God?"

A quiet pause and, "Ok. For a little while."

Surgery

2009-11-18T21:50:00.000-08:00

The Children's Hospital. They have fish everywhere. Murals, sculptures, aquariums, floor tiles. Fish. Every room has fish. Except the testing room. A vision test, a VEP brain test, computers, electrodes, one major breakdown-fit, and a lot of data.

At a time like that don't you just love graphs? I do. Plot the points and trace the curve. There's not a lot of guess work. The bad eye can't keep up. There's really only one answer.

Surgery. In January or February one of the best surgeons in our nation will remove the lens of a tiny eye, Lulie's. He won't replace it. Her eye is too small, still growing. In the months after we will teach a one-and-a-half-year-old to wear a contact lens. She'll patch until she's eight.

And then, perhaps perfect vision.

And after all isn't that what He's offering? Vision. What a gift.

The Good Life

2009-11-07T17:26:00.000-08:00

Lulie likes my Bible.

Janie bursts into the sun-room. I'm playing piano. "Your music is so JOYFUL, Momma!" She grins. "It's fine when you don't play. But it is so joy filled when you do."

The table a jumble of color crayons and fat pencils, smudgy paper, Jack stops. "Momma, I love you so much, real bad." He says this every day. Today he adds, "'I love you real bad,' means I love you in the whole world what it means."

As the sun goes down I watch him stare through our back window. "You are the sweetest thing in the world, bud."

He hardly turns. "Yeah," he says, "God think so. That berry good."

Anemic

2009-11-05T21:28:00.000-08:00

The doc called. I'm anemic. Boo-hoo. Although I should have guessed. I'm exhausted just looking at a load of laundry. Or dishes. Anything really.

Anyone have advice on iron supplements? A few years ago I took some and ah, well, if you've not taken them, they're a real bummer.

Educational Toys

2009-10-28T22:42:00.000-07:00

"Why do you think I'm so strong, Momma?" After various promises to shoot me an elk or bear and make a rug with the head still on it, Jack dreams of being a man. He and Jane spend hours hunting game in the play room, out in the yard.

Last January we loaded all their toys into bins, even the new pop-guns. We meant to make an impression. And then they hardly noticed. Five bin-fulls. A few tears, then nothing.

Months went by, half a year, never did get around to giving the toys back.

It's dinner tonight, "My high today was playing in the playroom with Jane." It's always a game of high adventure; most times they nearly die. In the end one or another saves the day. Even Lulie knows the rules. Between of stacks books and wadded islands of blankets, high honor, valiant risk, our drab playroom transforms into a universe. They weave stories without thinking -- and play.

Isn't that where it all begins, there in the playroom without toys? They play. And almost without my noticing, a life-long learner emerges, a playing child that moves on to words and numbers and long strands of ideas, literature, physics. They play, invent the whole world.

Sort of makes me afraid to buy them any toys.

Harvest

2009-10-23T16:19:00.000-07:00

"If someone shoots you a 1000 times, then does your spirit die?" Her brow furrowed, she's perched on the couch arm.

I shift Lulie, "No. If you belong to Jesus, God breathes your breath-of-life into a new body in heaven."

"Oh." It's as if I've said, Honey, water is wet. She's already off skittering through the leggos. She's gathering details.

Later, "Did an animal give it's life for us to make this soup?"

"Yup."

"Did it want to?"

"Nope."

"Oh." Simple. She's plucked out a piece of the puzzle.

Later Jack interrupts his prayer and turns to sis, "Yeah Jane, you have to obey the REAL God."

And, "Jesus is REAL, you know," he arches his eyebrows. All of the sudden he makes a differentiation, the REAL God.

The day we harvest pole bean seeds the sun warms our backs. The children shed their shoes. Lulie eats a few black nuggets, spits them out. Jane and Jack cradle them in sweaty palms like pennies. Another piece in the puzzle.

Lulie

2009-10-20T22:41:00.000-07:00

Little sweet. We've patched 6 hours a day for months now. A few weeks and we head for another check. May the Lord bless our trip.

Thanks for your prayers.

A Decade

2009-10-15T21:24:00.000-07:00

The man who lassos the moon again and again.

His arms reach as wide as the sky and as deep as the sea.

He leaves for work each day in a chorus, "Stay, Daddy! Daddy, can you stay home?" We wave until he is out of sight.

He makes our boy want to be a man, all courage and muscle. And our girls beg for lullaby in his arms. Daddy's long shadow encircles us with safety. And a view. Oh my. The whole world is good triumphing evil.

No wonder, a decade ago, this husband-man of mine parted the sea of possibilities.

Here's to ten years since we met!

High Tide

2009-10-08T19:40:00.000-07:00

"Is this how Moses stretched his staff against the sea?" Jane, poised on the dining room bench, pokes the air with Jack's bat. From across the room I wonder if she's separated the sea of laundry. {Sigh} Nope.

Anyone else stretching their staff against the sea? From juicy peaches to crooked ties and mile long laughs to debacles of permanent marker and eye make-up remover, it's high tide here for sure. My grace is sufficient for you... a sliver of strength slid between my shoulder blades.

The Good Life

2009-10-07T09:18:00.000-07:00

Grandad came for breakfast! The whole world tilts his direction, his celebrity status firmly attached to Grammie. She spoiled us all to the tips of our toes yesterday. {Sigh} Sure nice being a daughter.

Now, quarter past nine, Jane is curled up in a blanket nest. Upset tummy.

Jack is in the kitchen preparing banana slices. He dumps all in a froggie bowl, scurries for Jane's nest. All she needs is a little bell.

Lulu has explored the bananas, ate most of one trashed it, and stuffed one down the hose of the shop vac. Her face is rather dusty.

I'm eating a blueberry poptart.

Life is good.

Baby

2009-10-05T20:34:00.000-07:00

3.44 cm and growing. Another little one. Ten weeks and a tiny pomegranate seed of baby has sprouted already to strawberry size. Heart pulsing 160 beats per minute, all the hope and possibility of a person unfurls. Arms, legs, hands, feet. Lead violin sounds high A and in a small concert hall just behind my belly button, the symphony begins. That drum of a heart beats on strong and clear, a metronome of life. The whole body encircles it.

Janie and Jack swear they can already feel the little kicks.

Favorite name: Snoopy.

Grace

2009-10-04T10:18:00.000-07:00

Anyone else wake up to the melodious strains of, "MooOOoomma! Wipe my POOOOOP."?

Mary-Sunshine, Jane, greets grumbly me en route, "Momma remember, 'Do to others..'"

Touche'.

And also, was it before or after breakfast that the children converted a half-full toothpaste into a fire hose? Apparently between the three they can siphon water from the sink. Oh, and any comments on an appropriate amount of toothpaste to ingest?

And all the while my life sleighs along past pit stops and toothpaste puddles. I lean over to Jane, "Think about the BEST thing in your day," I whisper. Camera poised, I hold my breath. And before I can capture her dewy face or still spirit, she leans around my camera. Her arm across my shoulders, {squeeze}, "THIS is the best part of my day."

I lean into her. For a moment my eyes squint shut. Oh Lord, may I be the woman she sees.

Confession

2009-09-30T21:41:00.000-07:00

She's perched on the top bunk. Her blue eyes roam the ceiling as if an answer were tucked between the wooden boards.

"Jane." She avoids my eyes. "Is there anything else you need to tell me?" I stare. My eyebrows form an impenetrable fortress. She's breathing in and out like a road racer. "Jane." I bark it out sharper than I expect.

She hugs the ladder and fidgets, all elbows. Then suddenly, like a pop-tent collapsing, she claps her hands, covers her eyes, and bursts into a whisper, "Dear God, please give me the strength to say it. Amen."

As I exhale, the room seems small. Even as she wrestles the truth out like a long splinter, inside I shrink down to the size of a penny. Courage unfolds and I am undone by a thimble-full of confession.

Bike Rides

2009-09-27T20:51:00.000-07:00

This is the girl who wipes down our soap dispenser with a hair bow when I ask her to clean for company. And her side-kick who sits on on the counter and watches with complete adoration.

She always spots the biggest trees.

And he pedals the fastest.

Sometimes this makes for a tangle.

Or a long ride.

Kisses

2009-09-24T10:20:00.000-07:00

"Jesus, thank-you that I get to be with my mommy today. Amen." And here I thought she was going to bless the food.

Later it's nap time. Jane strings hugs and kisses into long tangents. Her small hand on mine, she grins, "My whole heart is full of kisses, Momma."

I play along, "Oh, I save them for when I am sad." I say.

"Hey Momma, is it ever hard to get out just one?" They're all bumping together and filling her with giggles.

"Oh, I usually take a whole handful because they all just sort of stick together. Is that what you do?"

"Oh. No. I just take them all out in my hand and just look for the one I want. But you have to kind of be careful and not tip them or they will fly all over. I actually had that happen once and then they get mixed up with everyone else's and they are hard to find." Kisses are serious business.

"So what did you do?"

"Well, for a while I put my name on them but that kind of works."

Every kiss has a name. Sometimes I have so many I almost forget.

**Special thanks to S. Cowger for the pictures.

Now, I Won't Get Dead

2009-09-18T16:39:00.000-07:00

"Now, I won't get dead," Jack announces. "Like some people get dead, I won't get dead." Faith and fact the same to him, he raises both eyebrows, "THAT a good point."

My Dad's kitty died. Just sort of disappeared for all Jack knew. No one noticed. And still, I told him. "Honey, the kitty's dead." In a fumbling sort of hopeful way the story of Jesus and dying, sin and salvation tumbled out. A miracle unspooled there on the bed all gossamer and delicate.

"Do you want to pray about it?" He stares at me. I want to repeat it. I wait.

"Well..." he eyes the ceiling, "that mean I will die?" It's as if he's never considered this. "You pray for me."

In a counterpoint of mother and child we weave ideas. Grace and wickedness, fresh as the dawn, brush against each other. In the afternoon sun my man-child becomes a child of God. I want to hold my breath and not rumple those first understandings. I'm swamped in the simplicity: God died. For me.

"God DIED for me!" When in doubt he shouts. And the whole room shatters into a million tiny slips of ideas like chaff blown away.

Open Wide

2009-09-14T22:51:00.000-07:00

"Go wash your hands with SOAP, Jack. Daddy said that WAS poop." Thankfully, picture and quote happened on different days. However, given his soft spot for Lulie we're all singing yippie-yahoo that no one is sick. We seem to have a theme lately on bowels and other grossness. I am getting a little de-sensitized.

On a lighter note, my life is filled with unending sweetness: Jack measures Lulie's pudgy baby arms with salad tongs. He pulls back a living room-sized bed for her and Jane. Janie declares she's, "Just feeling sort of gentle," and needs a Momma-date to Starbucks. The odd kaleidoscope swaddles me up, a corset of love.

The Edge of the World

2009-09-11T22:23:00.000-07:00

"And so all the shepherds went into Bethlehem to find Jesus!"

I realize she's been staring into space when Janie turns her head to me, "So who watched all the sheep while they were gone?"

And then later, gathered around a small deli-table eating Costco pizza, "Daddy, when can I touch the edge of the world?"

It's hardly minutes later that our edge-less world rolls few paces down the field. At first it's so funny with Lucy there passing gas in the food-court. With the confidence of a presidential candidate she is cracking one, then another. And then all of the sudden we wondering how she's managed to soil right up the back of her shirt, onto the cart, past the seat belt, onto the floor. Of course Janie and Jack begin to shout that there is some on the floor and a giddy swarm of flies gathers.

"Janie!" Her eyes are HUGE. "Jane. Pretend like you don't notice." It is a command. She stares at me. "Pretend like you don't notice." It is sort of hard to ignore the flies, but she does a very serious fake-stare at a nearby advertisement for blinds. Craig sprints to the car. And for a moment, I begin to wonder if I might actually be at the edge of the world after all.

6 Kids, 6 Days - Part 5

2009-09-10T14:40:00.000-07:00

Puking is a fine art. Apparently when children sprint to a public toilet they quite likely will barf a second too soon. During the slip-and-slide effect, said child may actually careen completely under the toilet. Remember public toilets are wall mount? Sometimes it takes a few tries. Don't lose heart if at first you have a neat and tidy urp only to napkin it off.

On the way home watch for signs of round two mop-up. Pull over at the slightest groan. Most likely the almost empty wet wipe box can double as a has-mat container. The remaining three wipes will shine away an amazing amount of soggy shrapnel. You may feel like you are on a wet wipe commercial for their valiant effort. Of course, it will be dark and nice drivers will light up the smeary mess for your convenient clean-up.

By the time you reach home everyone will feel a little less barfy and just tired. Whoever hops in the shower first may miss another display when sibling pukes explosion style. Then again that may wait until morning. Of course, you'll have company to share the wild ride. Why keep it boring?!

At this point, a 21 gun salute to the modern disinfectant wipe is in order. And to Craig. THANK-YOU.

Here is our SECOND water park visit. This time I am queasy-green and in denial. Thankfully, I did not puke until we got home. Look what I would have missed!

Just a little taste of the fun we had.

Special thanks to the boys' chaperon who was also wonderful. Feel free to visit his blog HERE and donate if you want. Enjoy the videos of the boys fishing.

6 Kids, 6 Days - Part 4

2009-09-08T17:31:00.000-07:00

There is always a lull before bedtime. One night we painted.

Don't children always draw their mothers, the ones that tuck them into bed?

"Tell me about your picture."

The pause is long, as if the images cannot coalesce into English words. There is a woman. An airplane. A cane and swirling light.

"It is Grandmother."

For a moment he remembers a far away place. It's invisible to me. His quiet words splash out onto the table like a stone in a pond. And the moment is gone.

6 Kids, 6 Days - Part 3

2009-09-06T21:41:00.000-07:00

"I really like my friends. Can they stay with us for 11 years?" Janie's eyes shine with possibility. Eleven years is so much less than forever. She's thinking I'll probably say, "Yes!"

Sunday we head for the park. Including the boys' chaperon, "Uncle" Chris, we are a party of nine. We walk through the wideness of green grass and tall oaks, pines, a footbridge, rushing river. I remember that morning weaving elbow-to-elbow through church. For a moment the mass of people had swallowed up Janie. And as I had turned to shout for her, a little black boy, quick as if released from a gun, had grasped her small hand and pulled her through the sea. To me. And for just a second, I saw the essence of being a man. I wanted to stare at that reflex to protect, the pool of safety that gathered at his feet. I wonder who taught these boys to be men. As we walk, each one is the epicenter of something extraordinary. And though we cut a wide path no one is beyond our reach.

6 Kids, 6 Days - Part 2

2009-09-04T20:52:00.000-07:00

The Fishing Trip

"That the BIGGEST fish I ever saw!" Jack is shouting. His fish swallowed the hook. The other children, clutching their catch run up and down the river bank. Even Jane is bare-handed holding a little squirmer, slime and all. Thanks, Huck Finn. It's a first ever fishing trip for two of our boys.

The kids hold up their fish for us to admire. This after reassurance that they don't bite. Craig puts his index finger in the fish's mouth. Everyone laughs and tries it. I notice the boys' small hands. Eight years old. Only three short years more than Jane. I wonder where the boys were born and who cared for them. I wonder who released them to America.

Thanks to Gramma's fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and apple pie, we finish fishing with full bellies and wide smiles. Ain't nothin' can touch the hospitality on the farm.

6 Kids, 6 Days - Part 1

2009-09-02T23:00:00.000-07:00

Jack keeps praying, "And Jesus, please keep Daddy safe BACK to Africa." Sometimes he adds a phrase or two about Janie and Lulie and Momma and him too. We sort of shrug and wonder if he will pray that again tomorrow.

Then, Janie wants to host the African Children's Choir, "Because I want to see a little part of how Daddy felt in Africa," she says. Africa. Daddy. She wants to be like her Daddy, her hero. A small breath of completely-inexperienced-hostess from me and I realize I'll have six children for six days.

(Lulie not pictured.)

Slum kids. They're slum kids. Orphaned. The paper said not to ask about family. 10 days of airplanes and airports, bus rides, duffel bags, fresh clothes and three little African boys land in the middle of our family.

Derrick, Benson, and Reagan sleep in our sun room for almost a week. A little corner of Africa unfolds. They arrive all grins, belly-laughs, and wide eyed fascination with everything they see. Our world is stretched and turned by these three boys. I've never seen such sterling manners and unbridled joy all in one package.

Blind Spot

2009-08-24T22:27:00.000-07:00

"Do you know why I do that, Momma?" Every half-year or so we notice a small underwear tower in the far corner of Janie's room.

I arch my brows, "Why?"

Her mop of curls tilted to the left, she blinks, "It's because," eyebrows now arched like mine, "the dirty clothes basket, is sort of in my blind spot."

"Oooh." Darn blind spot. Mine too.

We reassemble her underwear tower in the basket.

"Follow me, Jane."

I'm half down the hallway when I hear, "I'll follow you wherever you go." She's almost on tip-toe, "Like wherever you step, I'll step," she says. She mimes it.

With that, all my steps seem to magnetize. This child, building underwear towers and walking on tip-toe, strides and steps in the quiet hole of my blind spot.

And so, we pull out our markers. Write it on your gates, Moses said. Toes pressing into garden dirt, we lean to the back fence and scrawl out a verse we know. And then another. Maybe another tomorrow, making a few footprints we can see.

Girls' Date

2009-08-23T22:59:00.000-07:00

"Momma!" I turn to see Janie stopped at a rack of rather "dainty" women's underwear. "These are NOT modest," she says.

"I know. Can you believe that?!"

Next, she is captivated by a bright white mannequin noting and then poking her holey tights. "Momma, are these dead people?" She steps just beyond my peripheral and gasps, "Oh my word!" Why, that one has shorts as small as underwear.

And can you believe it's a normal sort of trendy store that I'd hardly think twice about if I'd gone shopping alone?

Day Four

2009-08-20T17:09:00.000-07:00

"GLORY to GOD. GLOOOORRRY to GOD. GLORY to GOD in the HIGHEST!" It's a shouting match in the sun-room. The piano thunders with small fists pounding out fits of enthusiasm. Jack's voice echos a half-second behind Jane's, and Lulu is screaming. Day four of Daddy's backpacking trip and the glory's getting quite stout around here. As it erupts down the hall and across my bed covers, I sigh. Morning light pools on the floor. It's one of those moments where staring far off into space never felt so good.

Barbarian husband is off fighting the whiles of mountain trails, rugged peaks, hiking on past the pit-bottom of exhaustion. Surviving on the land (and dehydrated food), a communion of man-ness happens. It's the antithesis of our safe life. The antidote. How is it that danger nourishes the heart of a man? And glory the heart of a child. Who knew I would tend such rare commodities .

Got Your Back

2009-08-17T15:12:00.000-07:00

It was a scritchy-scratchy, thistle of a morning.

"Momma, you just said that you don't like Daddy's sense of humor." Her eyebrows are arched. I can hear it without even turning around. "Is that really what you want to say." The frame freezes. I see a smile tease at the corner of Daddy's mouth. "How would you like it if someone said that to you?"

I sigh.

The apology was spectacular. Daddy said he thought we'd entered a parallel universe. Don't ya wish you could grab on to that apology so fast every time!?

Greatheart

2009-08-13T22:57:00.000-07:00

It's the suds I see as I pass our bathroom. Mustache-man looks up. "One more," he swishes and spits a glug of bubbles into the sink.

"Honey, are you washing your mouth out with soap?"

Nod. He's already sucking in another swig from a red cereal bowl. It's the frog one with big buggy eyes. He swishes another shot and vaguely aims at the sink. Spit.

"Is that because I said being naughty makes your heart dirty?"

He grabs a rumpled hand towel, grins. "Now my clean."

After scrubbing all the marker off his hands, greathearted one tries to make his heart clean.

A Gift

2009-08-09T23:22:00.000-07:00

The hospitality of a hundred years ago. My friend, Mel, brought me flowers. Sidled into an old milk bottle, they set me and the half-tidied house at ease. Anyone else have friends that can't help but add value to every room they enter?

Huckleberry Finn

2009-07-31T21:43:00.000-07:00

Children, meet your father, Huckleberry Finn.

He cut the pole from a tree and dug the worms.

So, I guess that make me, Mark Twain...?

Hold on, let me thread this worm... don't pull yet.

Wait for it... Wait for it...

Wait for it... NOW!

It a lunker.

That was so easy I can do it too, Daddy... you just hold the pole.

Let's give it a good YANK.

I knew we could snag one!

Guess the rest of the fish are safe for now.

:)

Patching

2009-07-28T22:11:00.000-07:00

I found one of Janie's babies faithfully patching away. Do you think this counts for double time?

Okay, I had to put a silly picture up so I wouldn't feel so glum. Lucy's cataract eye is lagging behind. {Sigh} It's not A LOT, just an octave. It's actually called an octave. That is, Lucy could decipher a certain interval of finer detail with the strong eye. In this case, an octave. Maybe it's just a fluke. Then again, maybe it will lag more next time... or less.

In any case, it's on to patching for six hours a day on into November. {Sigh} I shouldn't feel sad. She's happy and healthy and spirited. Just wasn't really what I expected. Maybe it will be fodder for something extraordinary.

Eye Exam

2009-07-27T22:23:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow: Children's Hospital. Some of our country's best doctors continue to monitor and document Lucy's vision development. We thank the Lord for His provision. Please pray for favorable results on the vision test.

Quarantine Lifted

2009-07-24T14:04:00.000-07:00

9:26 am the phone rings. Janie answers. Daddy's in the shower but... "I'll go get Daddy." She marches in, "It's me!" pops our phone through the curtain. Of course, it's an official call when you take it buck-naked in the shower (bless his heart). Over the din of water Daddy clearly hears, "Test came back NEGATIVE." {Sigh}

YAY! Thank-you, Jesus.

And, thank-you all for your prayers.

Quarantine

2009-07-22T17:48:00.000-07:00

"I'll give you a treat if you poop, but you have to do it in the little DISH." Yeah. The DISH. The lab gave us an upside down "top-hat" to fetch stool samples from the children. Stool samples, that's right. Guess who got to do the fetching. Did I mention Craig is sporting a strain of African Ghiardia? Oh, and one of the wee ones displayed an awesome spread of diarrhea, fully clothed, even shoes. The clean-up involved a plugged bathtub, lots of bleach, gagging, and my saintly mother. Let's just say I love bleach. And my momma.

They diagnose ghiardia with a stool sample - AKA, no stool sample, no medicine. Apparently the human body will sustain the entire life cycle of the amoeba. Indefinitely. Sooooo, hence the stool samples.

Of course the chillin's wanted to WATCH. Latex gloves, funny scoops, collection cups, I mean who wouldn't?! And Mom's on RED ALERT, the kids GIDDY. Giddy-up.

Then again, at least we can get meds. When the little African babies get this they die. Perish the thought.