Legos, Horses, and the Persistent Widow

I never really understood the story of the persistent widow and the unjust judge in Luke 18. I'm not saying I didn't understand it on a surface level. Sure: God wants us to be persistent in our prayers. But I didn't get it get it. You know? It was head knowledge, not heart knowledge.

Last week though, Littles found a small packet of legos that I had saved "for a rainy day," and I got an all new understanding of the story. Let me start by saying that when your six year old asks you if he can have something and you tell him that you're saving it for a rainy day, he will diligently wait until the next literal rainy day...and then all bets are off.

This kid: I'd give him even up to half my kingdom.

Let's be clear: he was polite. There was no whining. He utilized the word "please" with abandon. He waited a reasonable amount of time between each inquiry. (I think he is a great kid, but this is not a comment on either his awesomeness or my corresponding parenting wins--it was an isolated incident). Anyway, I totally caved.

In fact, for some reason, I felt a lot like the gypsy in this Ever After clip: "Come back! I'll give you a horse!"

(Sorry, random movie reference.)

Anyway, the point being that I was glad that Littles was persistent (and polite). As he left the kitchen with his hard won legos, I was grinning. I was reminded of how much I enjoyed his adorable, mostly toothless face with those big brown eyes and the killer eye lashes. I'd had a great time with our repartee.

The thing was, I had the legos. I wanted to give them to him. I was planning to give them to him (just not yet). And it was fun for me to then see how much he enjoyed them. Incidentally, he may have enjoyed them more simply because he'd had to ask for them and wait. Delayed gratification is like that.

I'm not saying that God is up there saying, "Well, she just hasn't prayed about that enough yet so I'm not going to give it to her." Or "Wow, I totally forgot that she needed that. Guess I should pass that blessing on about now." But rather that he enjoys the communion with us as we are persistent in prayer and he genuinely likes that we're asking him for good things--instead of just going and taking them for ourselves.

Incidentally, Littles could've just gone and gotten the legos, helping himself to them without my knowledge. That would've been way less fun. And he would've gotten in some serious trouble.

And let's be honest: with half his teeth missing, he doesn't need any more trouble.

Anyway, I was left thinking about what I wanted to start praying for more persistently. But now I'm a little worried that God might throw in a horse for good measure--and I may be mostly an adult, but horses still kind of creep me out.

Conquering the Unconquerable

That wall on the right was my nemesis. Nails bent going in (and took chunks of wall with them). Screws spun aimlessly while chipping out more and more of what could, potentially, be lead-based paint. Drill bits broke. Adhesives un-adhered--if such a thing is possible.

I growled. I groaned. I, possibly, complained, but only a little bit because there's something in the Bible about that.

And then I got creative (or crazy--I've heard it both ways) and talked the Man into doing a paint night for our Saturday-night-at-home date night. After I manned up and patched the wall, that is. I'm a real adult now!

I spent the next week tweaking and this is what we ended up with.

As has been said before, more eloquently and by people much smarter than I: limitations breed creativity.

Plus, it reminds me of the ocean when it rains, and that makes my currently land-locked self very happy.

To limitations. And really old houses. And date nights at home with husbands who lovingly refrain from telling you that you're absolutely insane. Oh, and to water based paint which wipes right off!

Learning the Meaning

Happiness is Bee on a swing. And Bruiser in the Man's jeep.

Community is our neighbor buying said swing while we provide the rather sturdy oak tree. I feel like we came out on the better end of this deal.

Euphoria is lapping the two super fit dudes at the track.

Humility is when they finish warming up and start running for real, and you realize you weren't as cool as you thought originally.

Sore muscles are when you take the kids for a walk the same day you did intervals...and Not-So-Tiny and Bruiser park themselves in the stroller while Bee decides to ride on your back.

Snaggletooth is when playing tetherball, your final front tooth (that's been "hanging on by the skin of its teeth") gets knocked out...and you look like this.

Persistence is looking for said tooth in the grass of the back yard in order to make sure that it came out in one piece and also: tooth fairy.

Going above and beyond is when your awesome neighbor is the one who actually finds it.

Defeat is when your cat decides that its a good idea to spend the majority of her day sleeping on top of your newly planted cuttings. I hope that aloe vera stabs you in the eye.

It's also occurs when you finally conquer the unconquerable wall that bends nails and breaks drill bits by using adhesives... only to have your pictures fall off the wall two days later. Is it sour grapes to say that I didn't love it much any way?

Sadness is getting sent to time-out.

Sadness is also pretty much anything that occurs after a really bad nap time.

Leadership (or maybe just being a big sister by 8 minutes) is the words, "Hold my hand! Brother, hold my hand!" and the resulting capitulation.

Art is risk. Like painting over a picture you didn't really love in the hopes that you can make something that will actually spark joy in your life. Maybe.

Art does not, evidently, include editing any of my pictures. At least not this week.

And one more, back to happiness, it's books (for me, always) and holding on to hope and hopping on a swing myself and going on dates with my boys (especially the one I married) and making the choice to look and see the good that is there, the good that is always a gift, while trying to understand that the hard can be a gift too depending on what our goals are.

Flourish

I planted succulent cuttings yesterday. I have no idea whether or not I did it right, but I'm all for trying new things for which I am totally unqualified. Besides, my word for the year is "flourish", and how can you flourish if you're not surrounded by green things?

Anyway, I've been thinking a lot about plants...and growth...and this whole idea of flourishing, which really just means to thrive in growth. And here's what I'm noticing:

Plants really only need a few things: soil, light, fertilizer, and water. Also, luck, but that's beside the point. And I should mention that when I told the Man I was going to pick up some cuttings, he said, "So Littles can take care of them, right?" Which is on point, because we both know that I'm probably going to kill all the green things.

At any rate, I'm thinking about what a plant needs in order to flourish, and its strikingly similar to what we need as human beings. The metaphor hits you on the head. Or in the face. Maybe both if the metaphor is in any way related to Bruiser...who will also step on your toes.

Much like plants, we need to be rooted deep in earth. I think of this as community. Without healthy community, our roots hang out all over the place like raw nerve endings...or they never develop at all. Rootless plants don't put out many leaves. Ditto with human beings.

Also like plants, we need both literal and spiritual light. I love grey days more than most sane people, but the warm glow of sun on my skin brightens my spirit. I also need the light of Christ shining on me. This brings growth.

Somewhat unfortunately, we also need fertilizer. And yes, sometimes this stinks. But good news: rumor has it that used coffee grounds function well as a natural fertilizer. I'm going to roll with this. I'll drink the coffee, then share the grounds: everyone wins. 

Finally, we, like plants, need water to feed us. But while plants tend to thrive on fresh water, most humans need a healthy dose of salt. As Isak Dinesen says, "The cure for anything is salt water--sweat, tears, or the sea." So yes, work, hard work, is necessary for growth. Those plants didn't pot themselves. But work is not even close to the only factor. One of the lessons that I have learned over the last few months is that the outpouring of grief waters the soil around us, enabling growth, not just in ourselves but also in those around us. But if we hold it all in, refuse to let even one precious, salty drop spill out, we inhibit our own growth and possibly the growth of others. 

{Side note: I don't know that the sea necessarily promotes growth, but it does make me happy.}

This week, then, I am celebrating succulents, kind people who share of their gardens, black thumbs, black soil and community (even for this introvert), warm sunlight (natural and spiritual), fertilizer (but only the caffeinated kind), and water--especially the salty variety. May the plants--and all of us--flourish.

Lobster-ish

"And in every place he abandons he leaves something vital, it seems to me, and starts his new life somewhat less encrusted, like a lobster that has shed its skin and is for a time soft and vulnerable." 

E. B. White, "Good-bye to Forty-eighth Street",  Essays

I've been mulling over this quotation for several days now. I've found it particularly fitting for this season in my life, and E. B. White (of Charlotte's Web fame) provided me with such a fantastic mental image that I just can't stop thinking about it.

This was our fourth military move. With each move, we leave something vital: dear friends, favorite haunts, the mirror we got for our wedding that somehow didn't make it into the truck, and pieces of who we are, whether we realize it or not. While moving can be an adrenaline rush and carry with it its own exhilaration, it can also leave you feeling worn out, off kilter, lost, or beaten.

This move, I admit, I've mostly just wanted to hide for a while. I want time with my kids, time with the Man, time with the pets even, and definitely time by myself. My motivation level for meeting new people has been at an all time low. I've been inspired to set up house, because I want the comfort of home, but I do feel kind of lobster-ish right now. I feel soft and vulnerable, and I crave a little time to hide and let my skin re-grow.

In the past, I might've felt guilty about this. But now, I am trying to give myself space. After a season of brokenness and grief, God is allowing me time to heal, to put down roots slowly, to be gentle with myself. 

So here's to being a naked lobster--for a little while.

Come for the Update, Stay for the Pictures

I was planning to get to the blog sooner tonight, but evidently cutting four sets of fingernails and four sets of toenails (yes, that's eighty nails total) all in a row and then reading half of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory out loud to the big boys took more time than I anticipated.

Still, it is the third to last day of January, and this month has been all about settling in and reestablishing routine, and writing is a big part of that for me (no matter how often I consider just chucking it all). So I'd like to welcome you in to 2016 almost a month late and let you know that:

• we have moved (and three weeks after being here, Owen still refers to it as our new home)
• school has started again, and we've added a student--Tiny, who decided to stop praying that he would learn to read and start actually learning
• there are pictures on the walls and library books on every flat surface in our home (also, the library is only two blocks away--yes!)
• our guest room is still in boxes, so don't buy plane tickets yet
• I went for my first run of 2016 on Tuesday and my second today (incidentally also my first runs since the surgery). I have now totaled five miles and I am sore. 
• we had birthdays while I was on hiatus, and suddenly there is a six year old, a four year old, and two two year olds running the house (if that looks like a typo: it's not).
• if you put a dog leash in your mouth and your brother gives it an encouraging yank, you can easily lose a front tooth that was formerly not loose at all.

I think that's most of the important stuff. But before we leave, here's A LOT OF PICTURES!

While the Man hung out with the movers,
the kids and I went on a few more Monterey adventures.
Here we are at the Monarch butterfly sanctuary.

Then we went to the Pacific Grove Museum of Natural History
where Littles tried to learn anything he might possibly have missed
about marine life.

They had sand there from all over the world.
It made me happy.

Tiny liked the turtle.
He got his genes from his aunt.

Bruiser was pretty sure all the birds were geese.

I tried to get a picture of her with her favorite display (the butterflies),
but every time she was beside them she was too excited to sit still.

The twins turned two!
We took this super typical family photo!

Road trip! Four kids, three pets, and two very out-numbered adults.

Sucked into Mrs Piggle Wiggle.

He only let them do this while he was sleeping.

Bruiser: the awake version

Bee developed some new talents between Monterey and San Antonio.
{No pictures of Road Trip Tiny included because he was on the wrong side of the vehicle}

Our first meal in the new house.
Minus the Man because he was in processing
And Bee because she didn't make it in the picture and then my phone died.

FREDDIES!

Well, this side of the table was excited.

Tiny turned 4!

And wanted to show you our house.

And Littles turned six!

So now he thinks he's big enough to walk the dog.

And to look like this.
Stop the madness.

:Last picture to prove that we're already discovering
as many playgrounds as possible on base.

Now that you're all caught up and your eyes are bleeding from too many pictures, I'll stop writing for another month and see you sometime in late February. Good plan!

Listing

It's that time of year. No, not Christmas (well, yes, kind of Christmas), but I'm talking about the time of year when my life forces express themselves by list making. Let's see, I have a lists for:

What foods need to be used up and how.
What groceries we can't survive without this week.
What needs to be thrown away or given away before we leave.
Who needs what stocking stuffers.
What birthday presents must be packed (and where).
Who needs to be seen one last time before we go.
What Christmas presents must be sent.
Who needs what cold weather gear for an impromptu trip to Yosemite.

And yet, in spite of this, I feel like I'm forgetting important things that matter. And I also don't have enough energy to keep up with the lists, which means the Man is running himself ragged trying to take care of everything while I diligently "rest" on the couch by frantically making more lists.

With all that said, I feel that I owe all of you a few other lists, such as:

All the books I've been reading while I haven't been blogging the last few months.
Weird things my kids do during times of transition.
The best ways to avoid your children pummeling a stomach incision.
Twenty gazillion things I'm going to miss about Monterey.
And it's cousin list: Why a year and a half is just not long enough.

Instead, I'm just going to give you two ways you know your kids are growing up too fast.

First, your oldest son leads the family in Advent:

Shut the front door.

Second, your only daughter pretend-dries your hair and doesn't bash you over the head with the hair dryer--not even once:

Small blessings...

You don't need three ways to know your kids are growing up too fast because then we'll all be crying hysterically, and I just don't have enough tissue boxes for that right now.

Instead, I will close with this bonus picture that includes Tiny--just because he's cute. And if anyone is wondering what Bruiser was up to, I'm pretty sure he was busy trying to plug a curling iron into the Man's nose. But that might've been a different day. I can't remember because I forgot to write it down on any of my lists.

Picture taking is serious business, Littles.