weeklythoughtexchange

He gets up early in the morning, sometimes, so he can open up his keepsake chest and pull out our old dog’s collar and leash and remember.

She went through her keepsake bench looking for a journal and found cards from her baby dedication.

They spend hours looking at our photo books and talking about the memories.

An important part of being a homemaker is record-keeping: not just the medical records or the school records or the important certificates, but also those little moments you think you’ll always remember but often forget as one memory builds on another. Some of these might be the funny things said as language is being grasped (“When I’m a parent, I’m going to get a special mop like this one”) or those tiny gestures of compassion (someone did everyone else’s table chores this morning) or daily routines that will suddenly not happen anymore and you kind of miss them.

I write down as much as I can in baby books for those 5 and younger and then I start journals for them. I write in each one once a month. I also write special memories in my journal and make photo books once or twice a year. I make keepsake bins for each child and when they’re old enough they are allowed to add to them and look through them. I also have bins for family keepsakes including special mail. Yes, it’s a lot to keep up with but the investment is worth the effort.

My mom taught me how to journal as soon as I could write and i have journaled ever since. During my college years I did a self-study and read through all my journals in chronological order; I then took note of the patterns and themes in my life and was intrigued to see how my own story had unfolded. As humans we are drawn to keeping a record of our journey. We need to remember what we’ve come through so we can look ahead; we need to chart our progress so we know how much we have grown; we need to recall who we were so we can understand who we are.

If you’re a person, a mom or not, I would encourage you to find a way to keep a record of your life. In a life filled with so many uncertainties, security can be found in noting your milestones. Somehow, record-keeping adds significance to your life and makes your little corner of the world important. Find your story!

The adjustment to seven children is real. Resuming school after adding a newborn to our family has not been easy in any sense of the word. I am continuing to brainstorm routines and class formats that will assist in creating and maintaining a peaceful home environment. There have been many tears along the way: from mom and children.

In addition to home management, we are facing many unknowns in the days, weeks and months ahead. There are times when I feel angry about the circumstances that put us into this season of uncertainty; sometimes I feel anxious about the challenges ahead and the discomforts we will have to navigate. Change can be exciting but when it’s not predicted or planned it can be fearsome.

With the chilly weather we are having and the hard week we completed, we decided to make this weekend fun and cozy. Yesterday, after 4 hours of planning out a new daily routine, the month of February and next week, I made homemade hot chocolate along with freshly baked sourdough bread and crispy popcorn and we introduced the Christy series to the children. This morning we all slept in and then began the day with cartoons and muffins for breakfast. Arden burst out with, “This is the best holiday!” From there we tackled some home projects and had music playing; as GH passed me in the kitchen he reflected, “I’d really love to have something warm and baked right now.” I laughed inside because the children all know I don’t tolerate “I’m huuunngrry” whining. He found a creative way to tell me the status of his stomach.

As the day progressed it got colder and colder, so after naps everyone bundled up and piled into the little boys’ room to play a game. We have story cards: I hold up a picture card and we take turns telling a part of the story based on the picture. It is a favorite game of ours. From there we moved to the living room for hot tea and some winter treats with more Christy. Since we kept mentioning the temperature of the day, Arden inquired, “Mom, what is the fever of the cold?” I just love how children interpret language!

As the keeper of my home, I take note of weekends like this one. What made it peaceful? Was it the balance of work and play? Was it the intentionality in absorbing the little moments, the innocent conversations, the silly antics? or perhaps it was the gratitude I felt at coming out of a grueling week and seeing God’s faithfulness in all of it. For truly, God is faithful. As we struggle and weep and toil and fall and fail and despair, we cling to Jesus. Every trial I endure reminds me to recall the trials He has brought me through. “If I can make it through that, then I can make it through this” and with that acknowledgment I am flooded with thankfulness for every chapter in my story.

The reality of Jesus is even more apparent in the experiences we would never choose to include if we were writing our story. I believe that when times are easy for too long we become swept up in how good we feel, whereas the difficulties confront us with the impossible and we remember God. In His faithfulness He provides us with a mixture of both: the need to pray and the chance to praise.

I rejoice because the days are short and I am ready to be still and rest. But sometimes I grieve because the days are short and there is not enough time to savor the depth of life.

I am overwhelmed by the chaos in my existence: the unfolded laundry, the clutter quickly becoming decor because it’s always there, the noise in all timbres. But sometimes I love all of it because it is home and it is my life and it is temporary.

I weep over the memories of precious time with beloved friends and family because they are now memories and I think I could have been more present or made more of them. But sometimes I hold those memories close to my heart because they are mine and they are permanent and they happened.

I shrink from what lies ahead because it is unknown and it could be painful or scary or change everything. But sometimes I want all that life has to offer because it could be far better than I could ever imagine.

As I sit down to pen this birthday reflection, images of our newest five-year old float through my mind. Each one brings a smile: a little girl with eyes that literally twinkle and a laugh that sweeps over her from head to toe; a little girl that ponders big thoughts and earnestly shares them; a little girl with a big reputation of being staunchly herself.

Just like her name, Arden is fervent in all she does. She works hard to articulate her thoughts and when the words are slow to come she uses every emotion in her body to show how she feels. It is intense but also meaningful. I appreciate that she isn’t afraid to express herself no matter what. I also love the words she chooses. To her brother: “Can you help me? I have to clean the whole world! I mean, my whole room.” About waiting for her turn in the bathroom: “It’s going to take forever!” And when we were having a picnic outside: “Look! The trees are breathing when the wind blows.”

She is fascinating to observe with her sideways glance and impish grin when she is up to something or how she floats away from a task that holds no interest to her and all of a sudden you’re asking, “where’s Arden?” And then you find her lounging somewhere- thumb in mouth, twirling her hair. She diligently comforts the ill and tirelessly entertains her baby siblings. She fervently loves what she loves and dislikes what she dislikes.

She has grown in height and heart so much between four and five but the greatest growth has been in her desire to do what is right. Whenever she is corrected for misbehaving, she quickly apologizes on her own initiative. She sidles up to me, hugs me and then sincerely names what she did wrong and asks to be forgiven. And after looking at her birth album before bed last night she said, “Thank you for looking at my baby book with me.” In Arden, any small change is a big one.

Happy birthday to a most precious little girl who brings intense joy and exuberant life to this planet. May Jesus be your reason to sing!

It’s been a busy month so I haven’t gotten to read as much as I would like to (a renewed new year’s resolution here), but I do have bookmarks in a few new books.

Parenting With Love and Logic is presenting some interesting thoughts and discussion topics for me and my husband. I try to always have an educational book going and I enjoy reading some fresh perspectives into the child’s mind. This book focuses on raising responsible confident adults.

No Holly For Miss Quinn is a cozy little book about a little village in England and some of the interesting characters there. It’s a book that relaxes the mind and gives the reader an appreciation for their own community.

I am also challenging myself to worship God with a disciplined mind. This is inspired by Loving God With Your Mind. A common misconception in the Christian community is that faith doesn’t require reasoning skills; however, God is glorified when we are able to engage in thoughtful discussion with others. It’s an appropriate book to read in preparation for a new year.

I am also getting some history through the audiobook THE BOYS IN THE BOAT. While it takes a little while to get into, the story of this Olympic rowing team that went to Berlin is incredible!

What’s on your reading table this month? Did you get any new books for Christmas?

Hop over to my Bookshelf page for my book reviews.

Not long ago I commented aloud about how grateful I am for our dishwasher. With all the demands on my time and energy it’s wonderful to get dishes cleaned with minimal effort. And then it broke- from one day to the next- just like that-even the dishwasher repair guy said there was no hope for it. Ohhhh the emotions I felt!

The pioneer in me wanted to rise to the challenge and smoothly integrate dishwashing 5 times a day into my housekeeping routine; the frazzled mom in me wanted to cry at the thought of fitting one more thing into my schedule. Suffice it to say, both options have had their time on center stage. It’s been hard at this time of year, with all the baking and festive cooking, to see those piles of dishes asking to be scrubbed, rinsed and put away. They vie with the mountains of laundry and teething toddlers for my attention. This is not how the Christmas season is supposed to be, I wail. Isn’t it a time of peaceful evenings sipping egg nog and gazing at twinkling lights?

It seems foolish to bemoan housekeeping troubles when inflation is the highest it’s been in nearly half a century, nations are locking down their citizens, and job loss is imminent for those unwilling to compromise their convictions. Humanity across the globe is suffering. And yet those major concerns and many more somehow magnify the minor ones under my roof. And somehow in my desire to make this season memorable for my family it becomes more chaotic than ever. I work so hard to make the meaning of Christmas the focal point of our activities and yet it seems to vanish in the effort. What am I missing, I wonder.

But then the Christmas story nudged my brain- the full story- the story that told of light and darkness, of hope and despair, of immense gain and tragic loss, of belief and doubt. Jesus was born into a country that didn’t govern itself, into an impoverished village to a teen mom. He was welcomed by both shepherds and kings, heralded by angels and hunted by a murderous ruler. Christmas is a time of contrasts; it doesn’t wait for the perfect Hallmark setting; it arrives in the midst of the stress as a beacon of serenity and promise. If I wait for perfect peace and harmony in order to celebrate this holy season, I will wait in vain. Jesus came into this chaos-ridden, storm-rocked, love-starved world to restore, to calm, to fulfill.

Ezra 3: 12-13 reminds us of the contrasts in those significant moments: “Yet many of the priests and Levites and heads of fathers’ households, the old men who had seen the first temple, wept with a loud voice when the foundation of this house was laid before their eyes, while many shouted aloud for joy, so that the people could not distinguish the sound of the shout of joy from the sound of the weeping of the people, because the people were shouting with a loud shout, and the sound was heard far away.”
I really believe that this season can have both tears and laughter and still be beautiful. We can still acknowledge the darkness and celebrate the light. We can keep things simple while being reverent. We can celebrate a King who understands humanity.

One- we have just begun

Two- it’s really too few

Three – Yippee!!!

Four- we need some more

Five- our house is alive!

Six – come join the mix!

Seven- a little bit of heaven.

As much as I like to portray an idyllic life through my photos and posts, we live real life over here. Often it’s a happy chaos but not always. And yesterday was one of those exceptions.

This is my first week back to a normal routine postpartum. It’s not the newborn who makes life challenging (other than giving me late nights and early mornings); it’s everyone else! There are messes to clean up; meals to make; squabbles to resolve; laundry, laundry, and more laundry; and appointments to navigate. Everything went haywire yesterday (and all before lunchtime) and it was rough. I wish I could say I grinned and bore it gracefully but I can’t. In fact, I was at my whit’s end when I called my husband and asked him to come home if he possibly could.

Bedtime is usually the perfect time to reflect on and bring resolution to the day. As I was tucking in our oldest, with utmost sincerity he asked me to forgive him for his part in making the day stressful. I asked for his forgiveness also and told him that I would be repenting to Jesus for the things I had done wrong during the day. He reflected on that and said, “if we didn’t have Jesus, we would be pretty bad.”

I concluded my day with peace in my heart. That bedside chat was a calming reminder that daily living is a blending of highs and lows, ups and downs, smiles and tears. There is no question that my children know I’m flawed; they also know I cherish them and will keep trying to do better every single day. Perfection doesn’t provide peace; forgiveness does.

Everything was chaos. There was nothing peaceful about it. My emotions were swirling; tempers were flaring; there was mess in each room. It was not what I had envisioned for the first day of Advent. I wanted the Rockwell musical ambience flickering on our TV screen at that very moment (which, my husband informed me, was complete CGI).

And then our three-year old’s lines for our living nativity slipped into my mind and one phrase in particular echoed loudly: “Prince of Peace.” That led me down a path of reflection on the concept of peace. Peace is a treasured guest in our home while I would like to have as a permanent resident. It is my goal and primary focus every.single.day. I am ever tweaking routines and tones to make things run smoothly and keep feathers from getting too ruffled. But in my effort to clench peace tightly in my grasp it often slips right through my fingers.

I think often about Peter’s walking on water turning into treading on water. I ask myself, “How could someone face to face with the Creator of the waves begin to sink under them?” Perhaps it was because in his humanity he was easily distracted by temporary reality; he was swayed by the intensity of circumstances and his redirected focus lost sight of the One Who calms the storms.

I think Peter learned some heart-changing truths in his 3 years of journeying with Jesus. His letters speak to that. That comforts me as well; each time I begin to sink under the waves of my circumstances and am pulled up for air by my Savior, I learn that He is more real than the storm. Hallelujah! The Prince of Peace doesn’t always deliver calm to the situation but He does speak into my heart. Lasting peace comes from knowing Him and His sovereignty, knowing He is immovable by what devastates my world, knowing that He created me and called me to this day and will equip and provide for its demands.

Don’t get me wrong. I may know these truths but that doesn’t me I am serenely smiling through these upside down days. Each situation tests me anew. But each time I learn a little more and my heart returns to a peaceful state a little bit sooner than the last time. And truth be told, when I’m peaceful on the inside it usually transfers to the outside: my home, my family ( and maybe even the pets and plants too).

I am busy about my day: preparing meals (I often feel like I live in the kitchen), doing kitchen clean up (which barely gets done before another meal is in the works), climbing my Mt. Everest of laundry (didn’t I just do laundry two days ago?) and teaching school (which often feels like wrangling a coach and six). And then someone comes up and hugs my leg.

It’s not the first time I’ve had a child hanging on my leg. In fact, it’s quite the norm for me. I am frequently admonishing little ones to not pull on my clothes or lift up my skirt or steal my shoes or cause me to fall because they are grabbing on to my limbs in some way. But this time, well, this time was different. This time I was interrupted by life. It dawned on me that this desperately clinging child wasn’t an interference but was, in fact, one of the main reasons I get up in the morning. This little person had a need and I could meet it. But this wasn’t the first time life interrupted me.

At dinner, in the midst of the clamor of a busy table and the screeches of a hungry toddler, I suddenly heard the older children chatting about the food they helped prepare: “What ingredients did you put in?” “What is in yours? I put in…” and as I smiled I realized I had been interrupted by life.

One night as I tucked a little guy in bed he suddenly said, “bad guys killed God but he fixed hisself. That’s how I know he is strong cuz he fixed hisself.” We chatted more about his thoughts which lengthened our bedtime routine but it was another one of those life interruptions.

The other day one of our girls was dancing with her baby brother and sister. Dinner prep could wait; I had to join them. It was an important life interruption.

We try to make bedtime a connection time but often my mind is racing ahead to all the things I need to still do before I can close my own eyes and rest. As I hugged our oldest goodnight my ear just happened to press against his chest and life interrupted my thoughts when I heard his heart beating. I immediately recalled the very first time I heard that heartbeat- long before I held him in my arms; I was filled with so much gratitude for all that his beating heart implies.

With all that is happening in our own life and the world outside our cozy four walls (broken dishwasher, daily mishaps from 7 children and 5 pets, facing possible unemployment, worldwide pandemic frenzy, just to name a few things) it’s easy to have thoughts filled by other things and to simply go through the motions with the mundane. But I read something once about being present while doing all the daily rituals and thus turning them into worship.

I’m going to do my best to be present this Christmas season so that life doesn’t have to interrupt me quite as often.