You Have So Many Things To Love When You Love Everything

It doesn't take much for our children to get us thinking, does it? My oldest draws pictures all the time to express what's in her heart, and although my boy doesn't care much for drawing, he loves to tell us stories and make silly analogies that give us a little bit of insight into the way his mind works. Children are often so much more clever than we 'grown-ups' give them credit for, but what I treasure the most is how they challenge me to get back to the basics, to a simplicity that I lose when I have my head in 'the world' for too long.

You have so many things to love when you love everything.

Ever since she drew this picture, I've had her words rolling about in my head from time to time. There's so much to hate in this world. There's so much to fear. There's so much to wonder and worry about all over the place.

And yet she wrote about love. That is what sticks with her, and I'm so thankful. It's not what sticks with me anymore after innocence lost and years of words that don't match the actions. That's the reality of life as we get older and find that we have to return to love...to recall its power...to fight to remember its truth and beauty. It's far too easy to get caught up in everything else.

I am wanting, simply, to love well. I could hate that I'm not always good at it. I could be afraid that I might cause another to forget its true meaning. I could worry that I'll never be able to do it well enough. But those thoughts are NOT the ones that should stick with me.

I have so many things to love.

To A Daughter On Her Birthday

Sweet Girl,

On the early morning when you were first placed in my arms, we were both so exhausted, and neither of us knew what was to come. Life in those first newborn days did not get off to an easy start – they were days filled with tears, anxiety, struggles, and certainly not sleep. As it goes for many new mothers, those first few months I spent with you were intensely difficult. But the one thing I want you to know is this: you were worth every bit of it, and I would do every second of it all over again to secure your place in this world.

 

 

For the past five years I have had the great pleasure of getting to know you, and I have already caught glimpses of the woman you will become. You are so loving and kind, and you have already learned the value of having a beautiful heart. I pray you never forget that lesson and become a blessing to everyone you meet.

 

 

You are tenacious in your pursuits, from planning impromptu backyard parties with your picture lists to showcasing your entrepreneurship with your grand schemes of selling your old toys door to door in the neighborhood (someday you'll understand why that wouldn't have worked out). You are full of creativity and big ideas, and I hope you'll always have the courage to chase your great adventures.

I love how bright you are. I love the questions you ask and the answers you give me, the stories you tell and the laughter you bring. You've been speaking in complete sentences since before you were two years old, and you've never run out of things to say since. In many ways, you are how I wish I could have been. Never lose that spirit. I want you to always have that thirst for knowledge, and more importantly, wisdom.

Our time together may not have started out perfectly, but you have been my little buddy for five years now, and I know I could never have imagined a better companion. I often find myself thinking back on these years, each memory rich with pure joy for the simple pleasure of spending it with a child like you, and all I can think about is how they have been the best years of my life. I pray for many, many more just like them, and the hopes I have for you are too many to count.

Ever since you were tiny, all I've ever wanted to do is be the best mama I could possibly be for you. There aren't enough words in the world to tell you how much your daddy and I love you. All I can tell you is that you and your brother are the greatest treasures we could ever ask for.

Happy Birthday, Hannah Cabana Kabookie

Love, Mama

To A Son On His Birthday

Baby Boy,

I never thought I'd have a son. When I was growing up, my world was always filled with females – sisters, stepsisters, mostly girl cousins...we would often joke that our family just knew how to make girls. I always knew that I wanted children, and I always felt that I would like to experience having both a son and a daughter, but I kind of prepared myself for the continuation of the trend. Thankfully, it was not to be as I imagined.

 

 

The day we discovered you were a 'he', I teared up with joy, for you had become a reality that I dared not hope for. I was raising a daughter, and I would also have the privilege of raising a son. It is not a task that I took lightly then, and it's one that I feel the weight of even more strongly as you grow.

You are blessed in a way that many little boys are not. I look around at the world, and I see too many poor examples of what a man should be. I see men who refuse to fight for their families, men who do not love their wives and children, and men who lack the integrity I so long for you to have. But you are blessed, my son, because you have examples in your life who show you the way; men who live their lives for others and are willing to do whatever it takes to run their races with honor. You have your daddy, and he loves you and me and your sister endlessly and sacrificially, and you will grow up knowing what it means to be loved and love others. Not every little boy has that. Take advantage of that blessing because if you learn to do it well, you will have the opportunity to give that gift to someone who needs it someday.

 

I wish I could hold on to every part of you that won't last. The way you sound French when you say the word 'door'. You caressing your 'comfy blanky' that is wrapped around your face when I check on you as you sleep.  Your silly antics. The big tears you cry over the littlest things, and even your surly facial expressions (those might last a while). Though you will one day grow up to be a man, you will always be my sweet little boy. You will always be the little fella who wraps his arms tightly around me and puckers up big for a kiss. I will always hear your little voice say, “I wuv you, Mama.”

 

I want you to know all of this so you understand when I get a little blurry-eyed at times in your life. I can't even think about how much I love you for too long without the tears welling up. But as you grow up, I take comfort in thinking about the man you will one day become. The world can never have too many of the good ones, my boy. You are three today, but you will be 33 before I know it. You have many more years ahead of you for learning and having fun and driving me crazy and holding my heart, but it will all go by too quickly. These past three years already have. 

 

 

During the first hour after you were born, I watched you intently, unable to process the love and awe I felt at your presence in this world. I will never stop marveling at you and all that you have brought into this life.

Hold on to what Daddy and I teach you. We love you more than you may ever know.

Happy Birthday, Biscuits.

Love, Mama

31 Days Of Strength In Scripture: The Vulnerability Of Love

So I'm on Day 18 of this challenge to write daily (and also read scripture daily, which is why I chose the topic I did), and although it certainly hasn't been simple, I have been surprised by how smoothly the thoughts can flow from my brain if I just allow them to do so. I don't do that very often – I filter much of what I write through revision, and I tend to 'edit as I go', so it's easy for me to be too strict on what I allow myself to write, especially when I know someone else might read it. (I think things like: Would someone misunderstand this? I can't say that. Would this possibly upset someone?)

I'm very cautious with revealing my thoughts. It reminds me of my son when he says something cute or funny – I laugh and sometimes repeat it, to which he says, “Hey! Don't say my words!” His words are precious to him. Even though I think he's hilarious and adorable, he might be embarrassed by my response, and I totally get that, so I try to be mindful of how I respond to his words. Words matter; we can't treat them lightly.

It has also made me think about how we need people in our lives to whom we can be vulnerable. Not long after I first started blogging, I put this C.S. Lewis quote on my About page:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

Many bible verses speak of bridling our tongues – they remind us that there are times when it is important that we are guarded about what we share, especially when the words are not edifying. (“Even a fool, when he keeps silent, is considered wise; When he closes his lips, he is considered prudent.” - Proverbs 17:28) But there are many other verses that emphasize speaking truth, which reveals that we shouldn't always stay silent – many times we need to show love, and that requires speaking up and being honest. It takes wisdom and an understanding of what 'loving others' truly means to know what should flow from our mouths or from our fingers to the keyboard.(“By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” - John 13:35)

This challenge has been a good exercise in finding that balance. If I kept my heart to myself, I'd miss out on opportunities to love and be loved.

“Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.” - Colossians 4:6

The Pursuit Of Love In The New Year

My four-year-old daughter and I argue a lot – about who loves the other the most.

“I don't think so, Hannah. I don't think you could possibly love me more than I love you. A mama's love is the biggest.”

“No, Mama,” she says. “My love is the winner. I love you so much...it's SO bigger...” She stretches her arms out in front of me. “It will take all day long.”

All day long. Now that's a big kind of love.

I have thought about the concept of love a great deal throughout this Christmas season. Those ideas of love and grace and peace that are tied in with our Savior just seemed to have permeated this year's holiday in particular for me – and led me to ponder 'what is love' in a deeper way than ever before.

It's no secret that I'm a Christian who believes that God's love is absolutely unconditional, but I could likely never fully convince you of that if you're reluctant to believe it. I do, however, understand why there's so much reluctance. We're not God, so we fail at love.

 

For me, the most beautiful and striking description of God's love in scripture is that it's unfailing:

“Love never fails.” - 1 Corinthians 13:8. “The earth is full of His unfailing love.” - Psalm 33:5.

It's constant. It's everlasting. It's incapable of fault. Without flaw.

It's perfect.

I have never experienced that kind of love from another human being. I've certainly caught glimpses of it in others, in the significant but fleeting moments of my life, but how could we ever make perfection everlasting when what we know of love in this world is so broken?

There's an eternity to God's love that most of us don't see in the human examples in our lives. That's why our concepts of love can be so vastly different from each other, and also why they can be so incredibly messed up.

Truthfully, I tend to get frustrated this time of year when I see how often God, who is love, gets rejected while other types of 'love' are so readily accepted and embraced.

Does 'unfailing love' mean getting everything we want? Does it mean always tolerating any behavior and never encouraging that it be made better? Does it mean it's okay to be abandoned or used and make promises we'll never keep? Does it mean giving conditional love and expecting unconditional in return?

You would think so, given how human beings treat each other and what we seem to expect from God. We're broken. And our own experiences are too deeply woven into our ideas about love that our past hurts prevent us from truly understanding what 'unconditional' or 'unfailing' love looks like.

There's far too much failure. We are not good enough examples of love for one another. And we are rarely looking to the right source for our example. It's patient and kind, not proud. Not self-seeking. Not keeping score. It's not the selfish mess that we see everywhere we turn.

He loves us all day long. Every day. No matter what. Until forever.

I truly can't imagine what life would look like if we learned how to love like that. Yet it's what we were born to do – love one another. We should pursue it the way that it pursues us, in an endlessly steadfast, unrelenting sort of way. Never giving up on finding it and learning how to truly give it. That's the kind of New Year's Resolution we should all jump at the chance to make.

The Passage Of Time

A mama watching video clips on the computer is like a magnet to her offspring. At the first sound of familiar little voices coming from the speakers, they drop whatever shenanigans they’re up to and come running to check out their former shenanigans. I suppose I can see the appeal – there’s not a whole lot out there that is more fun than reliving the moments of your life that were a blast.

One of our best moments

When I reviewed the video from my sister’s wedding, Hannah ran up to the computer, face practically pressed up against the screen, and flipped out with excitement. As she watched herself twirling around the dance floor at the reception, her eyes lit up. “Mama, I want to go back there! Can we go back there? Please.”

I laughed and explained to her that the wedding was over, that nobody was there anymore. Everyone had gone home.

“But I want to go back there,” she said longingly.

I know how she feels. I know that in a few short years that is exactly the place I’m going to be in – wanting to come back to right here, right now. I guess I’m glad that I’m at least aware of that, but I’m not looking forward to the moment I find myself missing what’s gone.

I’ve never been one to mourn the past, but I’ve never had it this good before.

Raising little ones is not easy, and I don’t have the greatest track record when it comes to patience, so in the midst of the ‘daily grind’ moments, I don’t always have that perspective. But it’s the hard truth – the phrase ‘they grow up too fast’ has never felt more real and raw, and that load gets heavier by the day.

I’ve had Abram in my life for nearly two years, and I know from raising Hannah that it’s about to get really different. There is so much that he does right now that will not be a part of him for long. He laughs hysterically at the faces Hannah makes at him. When you tell him he can’t have a popsicle or some other such disappointment, he says, “AW, MEH!” (Aw, man!) He begs for the Ipad so he can watch Jack and the Beanstalk. (“PYE-PYE, peeeease. BEAN-TAH!”)

He cuddles with his "bappy" in his crib. 

He is growing and changing at lightning speed. All I have to do to see that is look back at all of our captured moments. I have documented so much of our lives...hours upon hours of video, hundreds upon hundreds of photos. But it never feels like enough. It will never, ever be enough.

The things I used to find myself immersed in? The stuff that used to be so second nature to me that I could never imagine not thinking about constantly? They exist no more. It’s no surprise...I know that’s how life is, that it’s continually changing and we are creatures that are always transforming. But nothing quite smacks you in the face with it like watching your children grow up.

Though I feel blessed to have the technology to be able to take a peek back in time, taking that peek always makes me ache. You can hit pause on the video, you could rewind it over and over and watch it until you had it memorized, but you'll never have those buttons on your life. You can never go back.

I just hope that when I find myself in that place, wishing he was two years old again, I’ll be able to look around and say, “I’ve still got it so good.”

Even The Greatest Puzzle Has A Solution

Ten years ago today I rode in the backseat of a college professor's car with some other students as we headed from the hospital back to campus. They were talking about what we'd just experienced while I sat silently, unable to speak at all. It was from the shock, mostly, but the grief wasn't too far behind.

A boy I didn't know sat in the front seat. He said he didn't believe in heaven or any sort of afterlife, but he did believe that our friend was still a part of the universe...something about his memory living on in us...I can't quite remember the words. I just remember that it made my heart ache with empty sadness and the pit in my chest grow larger.

Just minutes earlier I had stood in a circle in a hospital parking lot with dozens of other students as we held hands and prayed together. I had looked around at all these people that one person had gathered together, and though I was broken, there was still hope. It meant something. It had to.

Just a week earlier I'd spent a 26-hour bus ride to New York next to one of the greatest human beings I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. He'd let me stretch my feet across his lap as I repeatedly scrambled the Rubik's cube for him and timed his solutions. They were always under a minute.

He was like a brother, except the only time I'd ever been mad at him was once in the cafeteria when he'd thrown an egg roll at me and gotten soy sauce all over my favorite shirt. I couldn't stay mad at him for long – no one could.

And once, a long time before that, we had sat in his dorm room talking about life, and he confessed that he didn't believe he would live until old age. He'd just 'had a feeling'. I told him that was ridiculous and that one day we would call each other up and talk about our grandkids.

But that was not to be.

Charles was smart, witty, multi-talented – but most of all, loving. He understood what love was far better than most people twice his age. His life may have seemed short to so many who knew him, but he had gained far more knowledge and understanding than most people even bother to seek in this brief life we're all given. Charles looked at the universe as though it were something as simple as a mathematical equation and had a spiritual outlook full of meaning and purpose. He was unique in a way I have never known anyone else to be.

That's why it wasn't fair. I couldn't understand why, out of all the human beings on earth, it had to be him. Twenty-one years old, so much life left to live, so much more loving left to do...so much more to give.

It was a long and painful process for me to finally arrive at the realization that the answer was, why not? Life is not fair in the way that we assume it should be, as we all know by the way it slams us into a wall every now and then. In fact it would probably be for the best if the word “fair” didn't even exist in any human language. I don't know why we keep trying to mold it into what we think it should be.

Our natural tendency is to ask why, but perhaps we are simply not asking the right question.

The answers to the universe are most likely quite simple. After all, a Rubik's cube has only one solution out of 43 quintillion possible combinations – a solution that is as simple as a series of sequences. Maybe if we just knew all the rules and took it one step at a time, all these complexities would seem so easy...the solutions would be clear.

I don't have all those answers, and it often frustrates me. But I do believe that Someone does. And I do believe that Charles lives on in a much bigger way than the boy in the front seat thought he did. I believe we'll someday have the answers, and I believe that Charles is thrilled to have them now.

I believe all that because it makes no sense to be handed a Rubik's cube that's impossible to solve. The enigmas this life presents have more to offer us than confusion and surrender. When we know there is a solution, the puzzle starts to take shape.

Charles' existence meant something and means something still. We are so much more than random. We fit together in the most complex-and-yet-simple puzzle that's ever been designed.

I've seen too many people give up on the answer because they're holding onto a piece they can't quite fit into the puzzle. They've got one side of the cube solved, but the rest of it is still so jumbled up that they decide it's not even worth it, that it must be impossible.

But it is possible. It is worthy of our time and attention.

Charles taught me many things, but mostly that the answers are worth seeking. Just because I can't see the completion doesn't mean there isn't one. It just means I need to figure out the steps, fitting in the pieces as I find them and letting Love guide me along the way.

Just A Little Joy

“The battle in your life is against your joy.” – John Eldredge, Walking with God

 

 

Look for it. Seek it out. Remind yourself, every single day, in those rare moments when your world is filled with golden light and all of your senses drink in its warmth, that the joy is out there, and it is yours for the taking. 

Remember that you will win that battle.

The Move: Our First Big News Of 2013

When I was growing up, I never had a specific idea about what I wanted my ‘home’ to be like, or where I wanted it to be. I just knew that I wanted a family of my own and a place for us to call ours. My hopes and dreams haven’t changed much as I’ve gotten older, but they have begun to take form in a more concrete way.

As I’ve examined our lives, I’ve seen so much purpose and joy in the path we’ve been on, but I also see so much benefit to making some changes. My husband and I have recently made a choice based on a deep desire we’ve held for quite some time – we are moving back to our hometown to be closer to our families and to eventually find our little spot in the country.

Many people who have moved away from their hometowns probably think that returning to their ‘roots’ would make them feel as though they were going backwards. But I don’t feel that way at all. We’ve been away for many years. We’ve had two kids, grown together as a couple, made some extraordinary friendships, and it’s simply time to take the next step. Moving back feels like a brand new adventure. It’s starting over, in a sense, and yet also moving forward.

I want my kids to grow up in the country, stomping through creeks and catching fireflies. I want them to grow up surrounded by love from their grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. I want them to live lives that are unhurried, unhindered by the chaos that a city life holds. I want to sit on the front porch with my husband when we’re old, drinking sweet tea and holding hands.

It sounds so simple, and that’s just who we are. It’s who we want to be.

Still, I am brimming with so much emotion that I shed tears whenever I have to tell someone we’re leaving. As excited as I am to embark on this next leg of The Journey (elated, really), my tender heart so deeply loves the people and places that have filled my world for the last seven years, and I find myself more affected than I thought I would be.

This is where I brought my babies home for the first time. This is where I watched them grow in their earliest, most precious and fleeting years. I know I’ll look around before we leave and see all the little moments that are contained in this space, and it will fill my soul with more than I can even imagine.

I wonder if someday our time here will all feel like a dream, but I know that even if it does, it has been one beautiful, moving, satisfying dream. Now it’s simply time to move on to the next one.

Like A New Pair Of House Shoes

One year my grandma told me she wanted a new pair of house shoes for Christmas. (For those of you unfamiliar with southern speak, house shoes are slippers.) Such a simple request, so I had no problem purchasing the house shoes for her, lovingly wrapping them in pretty paper, and placing them underneath her tree. I didn’t tell her what the gift was, though I was pretty sure she knew, and looked forward to seeing her open it on Christmas morning.

A few days later I visited her again. I was relaxing in her recliner when I happened to glance down at the gifts under the tree and noticed that mine appeared to have been tampered with.

I picked it up and examined it, and sure enough, the paper was wrinkled, and the tape had definitely been peeled off and replaced.

Grandma lived alone. There was only one explanation.

“Grandma!” I exclaimed. “You opened your present!”

Her eyebrows raised, but she didn’t even hesitate.

“Well, yeah,” she said casually. “I was just sitting here the other day, and I thought, ‘I’d sure like to put on my new house shoes’, so I did.”

I giggled in disbelief.

“So you just opened your present? You just…you just opened it up, put them on, wore them for a while, and then wrapped them back up?”

“Well, yeah...” she said. “They were too small.”

I rolled on the floor in a fit of laughter.

“Grandma! You’re not five. You’re nearly eighty years old – you should know better!”

She just grinned as I laughed at the absurdity of a grown woman not being able to wait until Christmas to open her present (and mostly at her attempt to cover it up).

But you know what? Her casual admission said it all – I think she did know better.

At her age she’d probably spent much of her life waiting for things to happen…waiting for the gifts to appear…waiting for the right moment to enjoy them…and perhaps she had simply decided there was no point in waiting.

I want to be like Grandma. What a tiny, simple, unimportant gift, and yet she literally could not wait to open it.

How great is it to have something to look forward to? To have something that you’re so excited about that you just can’t wait for it? To have a goal, a trip, an opportunity, an event, a moment…something that you long for and go after with your whole heart?

And how much better is it when it's something as simple as a pair of house shoes?

As I walk this path of mine, I want to stop and unwrap my simple gifts along the way with excitement. I don’t want to wait for them if I don’t have to. Life doesn’t last forever, so I’ve got to open as many gifts as I can, right?

So what are my ‘gifts’, those things that I should seek in this journey? What fascinates me? To which parts of life am I irresistibly drawn? What captivates me?

They are the moments that I feel compelled to write about or that prompt me to grab my camera. They are the tiny hands that hold mine, the embrace that calms my fears, and the desires in my heart. They are the things that make me laugh, the things that make me cry, and mostly, the things that open my eyes.

They are everything that is simple and pure and true, and so often overlooked.

Those are the things I find myself craving. Those are the simple gifts I want to enjoy each and every day, and I refuse to wait until Christmas.

 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This Path I'm On

Last week we took another road trip (I know - we're crazy!) back home to see my sister get married.  And it was one of those weeks.

No, not a bad week - a good week! One of those weeks when everything just goes right and your heart wants to burst with joy and life is all rainbows and butterflies and unicorns.

Seriously.

The kids did great in the car. (Only a couple of screamfests, and they were brief.)

Family, family, family.

We got to play, play, play in the country.

Little Girl got to ride a horse.

She got to be a flower girl.

Little Dude has been walking - and dancing - all over the place.

I took some gorgeous bridal pics of my gorgeous sister.

And it was a gorgeous wedding.

Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. That’s what life has been lately.

And now we’re back and approaching my favorite time of year.

So, sorry, but I just feel like gushing.

I haven’t been doing much writing, but I’ve been doing a lot of living, and also a lot of thinking about what the future holds...

I'm grateful and looking forward to it all.

Five Minute Friday {Grasp}

It's that time again - Five Minute Friday. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.

GO.

He grasps my finger, his tiny little hands gripping mine with fervor. He’s determined to not let go, to hold firm in this adventure of walking. Taking these steps isn’t easy. They’re scary. Mommy’s got a firm hand to hold onto, and this little guy will not let go.

He grasps the floor with his feet, his little toes curling against the cold tile. His steps are short and shaky, but he squeezes mommy’s hand tightly and forges ahead.

He’s so much more cautious than his sister was, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe he won’t be as independent. Maybe he won’t try to ride on elevators by himself. Maybe he’ll stay mommy’s little boy a little longer.

Maybe he’ll just keep grasping that finger. Or maybe he’ll let go and go on to master some new things.

That finger will always be there, held out for him to find if he ever needs it. But he’s so close to letting it go.

And maybe mommy will go on to grasp the fact that her little boy is getting to be a big boy.

STOP.

You know what's funny? Today was a bad day. My sweet boy was a drooling, cranky, teething mess, and yet this is what I write about when I'm not overthinking. As anxious as I am to get through the messes, I promise I'm still savoring the sweets. :)

 

Our Beach Vacation -and- Why The Photos Don't Tell The Whole Story

Ah, the beautiful, sunny beach.

 

Well, it was beautiful. But not sunny.

 

 

Happy children posed angelically as they enjoyed the surf and sand.

 

No, actually a worn out little girl played too hard

 

 

And a teething, cranky infant had moments of delight

Mixed with many more moments of displeasure

(Despite what the photos say).

 

But the camera rarely gets grabbed during the tough stuff.

 

 

Because life, in all of its glory and splendor and muck and mess, has these rare moments of awe and wonder that make us stop for a moment and breathe it all in.

 

 

 

We can't get caught up in the grime. After all, it rinses off.

 



 

And we make more time for monkeying around.

 



 

It's okay if the seas get a little rough. As long as we're together.

 



 

 The sun finally comes out, the days eventually brighten, and the big blue eyes light up again.

 

 

 Sometimes, though, I do wonder if, in order to tell the whole story, I need more photos like this one:

 

 

But I've always been partial to the idyllic.

 



 

Maybe it doesn't matter what we choose to capture because it's all part of the story. Besides, the good stuff is supposed to be hard. That's how we know it's worth it.