lessons i've learned

some of what i've learned
being the momma of seven
who seeks joy
{inspired by the picture archives on my blog}

always take pictures of baby feet
no explanation why needed

spilled messes on the floor are okay.

 you get to wash your floor afterwards and then check it off your list.

 if your house is like mine you'll always have spills and therefore always have a clean floor
in fact, i love this tip so much that i wrote about it last year
so-thankful-for-those-spills

socks don't need to match

it's much easier to just grab socks and wear them together

however

hanes socks are the best - they color-code their socks

but, hee hee, i don't always make them match

it's okay to cry
not about everything
but my kids have seen me cry
about Samuel and Celiac Disease
or when my grandpa died
cry and tell them it will be okay and that sometimes we need to cry
then give them a hug

always grill in the summer

there's less cleanup

but more propane costs

but again

less clean up

{and if you don't know how to grill -- you simply must learn}

watch them when they don't realize you are

you'll hear them talking to each other about God

or lining up cars

or laughing with each other

and it will do your heart good

save some of their artwork

especially artwork that pictures mom as a mean monster

{which my daughter hannah drew when she was six}

or mom as the princess

{which she drew the next day}
and display their artwork on your fridge

buy costumes on clearance in november
and then you will get pictures like this

teach them about weeds

and share your love of lawns with your kids

but, be prepared for them to point out weedy lawns to you
and gradually they'll learn to love gardening
maybe as much as you do

sing with your kids

we make up our own songs for the kids

and love to spend our time singing and humming and singing
and playing piano
{just look at baby Samuel...sigh}

be prepared for noise

which, one day, you will miss

find an ikea

and invest in their pack of plastic glasses and bowls

and then don't get mad if you find them outside in the sandbox

buy garden tools for the beach

{learned this from my aunt}

your kids will rock the beach when they can dig on with an actual garden digger

versus the shovel

and play in the sand with them - building the coolest sand castle on the beach

 don't sweat potty training
really, trust me, they'll get it
{if you're in the midst you might not believe me}
but every single time my kids eventually caught on
relax
and invest in cheap underwear that you can throw away if needed

be goofy with your kids

run through the sprinkler, play cards

make sure to take time to 

laugh

{remember these pics from my birthday?}

that's what they'll remember

hold them at bedtime
especially when they ask you to stay for just a minute more
because one day they'll be too big
and you'll be so sad
and if you need to remember
read Love you Forever
{by Robert Munsch}

let them cook

and that will probably mean some fails

but tell them that because it didn't work out that next time they know what not to do

and then one day they'll make you yummy food

{like my kids do}

pray with them

always

throughout the day

even if it's just before math

or soccer practice

and always before dinner

they'll remember this even more

teach them animal sounds

and make sure to make the pig sound as a real snorting noise

and add odd sounds

cause then your child sounds like a genius

sit and listen

let them talk to you
stay at the table

don't add your agenda

your schedules

but just listen

listen

listen

listen

and you will be blessed.

how about you?

lessons learned?
favorite lesson of mine?

please do share.

a story of a friendship -- when rachel met carissa

Yesterday, I promised you a great story of a great meet-up. Today, I'm going to tell you how I, Rachel from finding joy, met Carissa from lowercase letters. It's more than just your regular blogger meet up story.

It's the story of a friendship.

And really, it's unbelievable.

I don't even know how to start. I'm sitting here staring at the screen wondering what should be the first line. Should it be the connection that we've forged over the last years? Or the laughter that we share? Or how we met in Charleston? Or how Carissa was just as fabulous as we all know she is? Or that I feel like I've known her forever? All true. But, today, I'm going to start with a bracelet.

Remember back in April when I held a give-away (technically according to legal rules a sweepstakes) for a bracelet from my friend Amy's business, Legacy Bracelets? Well, I prayed and prayed and prayed that whoever won the bracelet would be exactly who the Lord wanted that bracelet to go to. And the winner was my already close friend, Carissa. Who decided to have the bracelet made for her grandmother -- with pictures of her kids on it.

Fast forward. July. When I travel to Hilton Head Island in beautiful South Carolina. And where did I fly into? Charleston. Carissa's home. Of course we were planning on meeting up -- we just waited during the week to finalize details. After being fairly disconnected for a week from internet I emailed Carissa with the line whatcha doing Saturday? -- only to discover that her sweet grandfather had died and that she might not be able to make lunch as she had to fly out on Saturday. In the midst of trying to manage a lunch together (which we did) we discovered -- via email -- that the oddest coincidence had occurred.

We were on the same flight from Charleston to Atlanta.

I remember emailing her asking if it's possible that the flight she was on was Delta 730 leaving at 6:25. The flight that we had booked months prior.  She emailed back that my flight was her flight. I really couldn't believe it. What are the odds of that happening?

We went through our lunch at Poogan's Porch on beautiful Queen Street in Charleston. I was nervous, yep totally nervous, and yet when we met it was as if we had known each other for years and years and years. My friends and I and sweet Carissa went upstairs to eat our lunch and we laughed and shared stories and our faith. And my friends told me that our lunch meet-up was one of the highlights of our entire trip. They loved her just as I much as I already did.

(starting in the back left going clockwise -- me, Amy, Carissa, Julie,and Susie)

We did the obligatory posed but trying not to look posed pictures outside.Ha ha ha.  My friends were trying to get me to smile or laugh or something and I just made silly faces. Then we hugged a short goodbye, and left our Queen Street meeting spot, because we knew we'd meet in the airport soon. Strange, huh?

Fast forward to the Airport. As we waited in the Delta check in line we met again. And yes, I saw that adorable and loveable Sage of hers. Her mother was with -- they were flying together for her grandfather's memorial service. After going through security (which was so easy in Charleston) we met again at the boarding gate. And Amy met her mother.

Re-enter the bracelet.

Carissa explained to her mother that Amy was the one who made the bracelet for her grandmother, her mom's mom, wife of her grandfather who just passed. Then she explained how important that bracelet was because it had pictures of her grandfather on it with his grandchildren. I stood there, in an airport in the midst of Charleston, and watched the exchange, the tears in Amy's eyes as the bracelet was discussed and I could only marvel that the Lord, our great Creator, could put together such a meeting.  In the midst of hardness and sadness there was this common thread of joy and family. He knew how our lives would be woven together in such an unbelievable story.

(Carissa's bracelet)

It was a beautiful moment.

I remember sitting on the plane as it soared in the sky between Atlanta and Charleston thinking that Carissa was on this plane with me. I couldn't have ever thought that we would be sharing this experience. Ever. Once in Atlanta we gave our hugs goodbye -- again -- and proceeded through the crazy Atlanta Airport. As I sat eating my overpriced dinner of salad Amy, Julie and I chatted about how much we enjoyed spending time with Carissa. My heart was so grateful for our afternoon together, and yet, at the same time sad that there wasn't more time -- it was too short.

We proceeded to wait at our gate and all of a sudden felt a tap on our backs. It was Carissa and her mom. Their gate was switched and they were right next to ours. Again. The odds. Crazy. We chatted more -- and Sage took a liking to my friend Amy -- and shared stories and life and even joked that this would make an unbelievable blog meet-up story. No one could plan one quite like this one.

Again, hugs goodbye. And this time for real. As I sat in my plane headed for Minneapolis (which as you know got diverted to Chicago) I looked out my window. At Carissa's plane. As it loaded. And I texted her goodbye.

I know it's not a forever goodbye.

In fact, I feel so blessed that the Lord intertwined our lives the way He did. What started out as a blogging friendship, progressed to an even deeper friendship, and now to a real life I met you and know that we are forever friends type friendship.

It's an unbelievable blessing.

And she even liked my silly Minnesotan way of talking. Ya know.  That's real friends.

Ever heard a story like this?

(where the in real life friendship started)

Want to hear Carissa's view? Make sure to read her perspective as well -- click here. And I simply must thank her for several of the pictures on my blog today (all labeled lowercaseletters). My camera? In my car. I know, I know, I know....I was so into packing for the flight that I spaced it all out. My other pictures (taken by Amy) aren't ready yet. So be looking for some more wonderful pics soon.

the morning light

I just sat there.

My weary body pressed against our worn oak dining chairs.

My brain seeming unable to rest.

A worry here, a worry there. I just wanted to write.

My heart felt too heavy -- I was clinging on to thoughts of what "I thought I should have" or "how is that going to get solved?" -- to let the words flow.

I saw time, ticking by. I saw life, nothing like I expected. And I didn't know if I should laugh or cry or sing or pray.

The words seemed stuck.

Then I heard it. This little cry. A stirring.

Momma.

Momma, Momma, Momma.

It was Samuel.

The morning sun was dancing in his room, and in that dance it woke his sleepy body. As soon as his sweet baby blue eyes fluttered open he must have realized he didn't want to stay in the maple colored crib. He wanted me.

As I gathered him in my arms I began to wonder about those early moments of self-reflection. I was only looking at the challenges -- finances, auto-repairs, agendas, and regrets.

I wasn't seeing the gifts. Blessings all around.

I forgot.

Samuel nestled into me and as I smelled the mix of baby and toddler I rested. No longer in what is hard, but in what is good.

The morning light found it's way into the kitchen and with the light came more sweet ones coming down the stairs. I see their faces -- with remnants of sleepiness -- stumble into the room with Samuel and me.

Morning momma.

Ah yes, that is what brings me joy.

I just needed to be reminded.

the little moments matter

The light peeked through the windows as heavy gray clouds danced across the horizon. Raindrops slowly fell, leaving splatters of dampness on the deck.

Samuel sat on his knees at our worn oak dining table. His little feet hung off the back of the bench, his yellow nuk alternating between his mouth and resting on the table. Carefully he balanced while eating his bowl of cereal splashed with lactose free milk. A late afternoon snack for my hungry boy.

{sweet blue eyed Samuel}

I watched him.

I watched as his little hands, his right wrist still sporting the hospital arm band that he keeps asking to have back on, grabbed the spoon and worked to get those round gorilla munch puffs in his mouth. A couple would fall, but he'd keep working. Sighing sighs of contentment between drippy bites.

My heart felt at peace.

As I watched that sweet boy of mine eat I began to remember. I remembered how just a mere four months ago he had no energy to eat. I remembered my eyes welling with tears as I saw him rest on the floor -- with no energy to play. I remembered how he slept throughout the day. His pale, pale face. The vacant eyes. And I remembered the pain and the look of sadness in his eyes pleading with me to make it better. The slow horrible fade.

{then}

Humbled by memory, I looked up again. His attempt at neatness was done. Now the faded lime green bowl bought years ago at Ikea was upside down. Samuel was raking round morsels of gluten free goodness into his hands bit by bit. Some made it in his mouth, the rest onto the birch colored floor below.

I knew then that I should never take him eating for granted again.

It hit me so strongly -- the need to remember -- to be grateful for the little things like eating a late afternoon snack in late May.

He couldn't do it in January.

But now, by the grace of God, now my boy can.

That is a joyful thing.

Alleluia to God, our Healer.

Thank you for healing Samuel.

{now}

{I've linked up with what is on your heart}

sometimes it's the little things

that bring the greatest joy.

Sometimes it's the little things that slow you down and cause that moment of pause. It's those moments where you don't really care what those around you think -- you just be -- you just live --- you just feel gratitude.

Mine was this morning.

This rainy, unseasonably cold, May morning.

The older girls had a dear friend sleep over and I was going to make them muffins and, of course,  I was out of muffin wrappers. Knowing Samuel would want a muffin {which needed to be gluten free} as well I packed him up and headed to the grocery store.

Samuel in his sweet red coat and sweatpants and no socks.

As we walked in -- I was doing the "I'm on a hurried mission walk" -- Samuel saw the carts with the little cars attached to the front. You know the carts. The ones that I try to avoid -- germs, you know. The carts that are noisy and loud and take skill to turn. Yet, he saw it and his little eyes lit up with excitement.

I hesitated.

And relented.

And surprisingly, I quickly got over my fear of germs. Instead I was blessed with this sweet moment of joy watching my healthier Samuel drive two steering wheels passed the freshly loaded rack of $2.50 cantaloupe, and the grinning ladies behind the service counter, all the way back to the frozen section of the natural foods area to pick up gluten free muffins. As we walked by the brown organic eggs and pricey bottles of Noni I stopped, pulled out my phone {hence the picture quality} and tried to capture just a bit of that moment.

It was beautiful.

This moment of joy captured in Samuel trickled down to me. It's funny how the things we fear {for me the cart full of germs} can turn into sources of great joy. It's just letting go of that fear. Of not caring about the extra work, about others' opinions, about the extra time. Somehow those twenty minutes in our grocery store became the highlight of my day -- and caused me to reflect on how many opportunities I miss.

After all, I had hand sanitizer in the car. :)

cultivating joy

My garden sits out back, just off of the deck. Go down the four steps, cross the cement block and you are at my corner of gardening bliss. All spring and summer I work that soil -- day by day. But right now all you can see is turned over dirt. Dirt that's mixed with the ugly remnants of falls yard work -- composting -- nurturing the soil.

The kids seem agitated. It's from me. I've been worrying about money again. As I've let my own anxiety win it's now trickled down to my little ones moods. Cries of irritation begin to be heard, and some disgruntled attitudes can be heard about tidying the kitchen.

Every spring I grab my old garden shovel and walk to the garden. It's the same shovel that I used when I built the kiddos their snow fort, but now it's being put to proper use. Slowly I push the steel blade into the earth, kick down with my foot, and lift over shovel full after shovel full of dirt. It's exhausting work.

I've become aware that I need to be the one to change the atmosphere in our home. Even though I have these worries, they are covering up the beauty of our family. Instead of seeing the potential all that's being showcased is old, stagnant patterns.  This needs to stop. I need to get to work. Changing myself.

Underneath the mess of composting grass and leaves is beautiful black nutrient rich dirt. Waiting for me to bring it to the surface. Gradually the new dirt, the spring dirt, begins to overtake the remnants of winter. I continue digging -- up and down -- dump. With each pass the excitement of spring and green shoots and new growth grows.

I'm still in the kitchen. But now, as I wash those leftover dishes, I pray that I am washed. With each wipe of the rag I pray that the Lord removes the anxiety that I've let cloud  my heart. I watch the little ones -- ones who are still unsure of the mood of the day -- and instead of seeing frustration I see potential. It just needs to be unearthed. Cultivated.

The digging is done. Now I wait for that warm day in mid-May when I can put seeds into that soil. I may start lettuces and peas before, but until then I wait. But the soil is ready -- it looks different. Prepared.

The kitchen is clean. The littles are sitting with me reading a story. I'm embracing the moment -- the sweetness of Samuel's head resting on my arm, Elijah's sweet questions, and Caleb's eagerness. Gradually I begin to sense the shift in the mood. Anxiety is being replaced by joy.

It took work. Letting go. Digging deep.

Cultivating joy.

joyful yes (faces) and some news

My lovely Hannah has done it again. A beautiful button to go with a beautiful new Wednesday meme. For me, the writing too much person, I love the idea of finding a picture in the stash of digital pictures that captures a word. Her word this week? joyful {faces}.

I think I've seen joy.

What do you think? Does this capture joy? Because I love it.

{my Brennan when he was four}

And, as far as using the word yes, how did your day go yesterday with those yes answers sprinkled in with the no's? I noticed that my entire older crew {basically all those kids of mine who read my blog} was in a different mood -- more playing, more laughing, more agreeing. All from trying to say yes more.

That heart change created many joyful {faces} moments.

I think my family needed the reminder as well.

So, today, I'm going to try my joyful yes challenge again. After all, playing Parcheesi at 8:25 in the morning is just plain fun -- even though I came in dead last. Or making a smoothie the first time they ask versus in the in a minute time was a blast. Or reading the same Harold and the Purple Crayon and belly laughing.  Those moments all came from saying yes.

********

please imagine an announcer with that deep announcer voice stating 
{and now, some finding joy announcements}

Samuel is doing excellent this week.

  No weight gained, but no weight loss. 

 The big difference is the massive increase in energy.  

I will always be grateful for your prayers.  

Friday starts my {friday}favorite things link-up.

What is it?

A list of thankful and favorite moments from the week or life in general.
I'd love for you to join me -- I'll have the linky open early in the morning.

The WOOL DRYER BALL GIVEAWAY still open. 

 If you want a shot at winning my new favorite laundry accessory

click

HERE

and 

Find a joyful faces picture and click the button above to link to Hannah's blog. 

Let me know you did and I'll be over to peek at your photo.

 You'll meet some other sweet bloggers and will get to sprinkle your morning with joy. :)

another day, another day, another day

I've only got a couple minutes to write this post.  I'm off to take Samuel to the Pediatric GI Doctor today. He's down some more weight, so I'm just a tad bit nervous.  Who knows, maybe it still is part of the healing process and it will just take time.

And, now, Mister Samuel has a bad cold/croup.

It was bound to happen.  

{Especially living in such a large family.}

I'm just praying that he stays as healthy as possible.

And, tonight I speak at the homeschool event that I chatted with you about last week.  We had a snowstorm (imagine that, here in Minnesnowta) that caused the meeting to get bumped to today. So, once again, I'd love prayers covering that time.

Life just keeps rolling.

Another day

Another day

Another day

Another day.

And in the midst of these days that stack up I've been forced to be on my knees in surrender. In those moments of release I've discovered the absolute necessity to look at life with a different lens. The lens that seeks out the beauty - the positive - the joy.  

And finding joy has caused my heart to be content.

the sacred in normal

Our family lost normal.

For a month everything was turned upside down. 

Sickness and worry clouded our days.

  I knew that the sacred, the beauty in normal needed to return.

Simple joy.

Candles lit lining our table.

The red catching in the morning sun.

Marking this space as wanted. Needed.

Nothing else changed. 

No new books or schedules or plans.

Just candles. Flickering light.

Celebrating life.

Learning.

The crayons were still there. 

 A waffle here, my coffee there. 

 The table was full.

My mindset had changed.

The table wasn't cluttered anymore.

It was beautiful.

I had forgotten normal.

When Samuel was so sick I wanted to be able to sit at the table and learn with my children.

Yesterday, finally, I did.

And

It was glorious.

In the holy hush of the early dawn

I hear a Voice

"I am with you all the day,

Rejoice! Rejoice!"

(George MacDonald)

"good times, noodle salad"

Today was a bit better.  Samuel discovered he loves blackberries. It is a wonderful thing to sit in our kitchen and watch him pluck a blackberry and shove it into his blackberry-stained mouth.  With each eager bite, I prayed that he absorbed abundant nutrients.

Life is such a rollercoaster.

Challenging times make me appreciate normal times.  I look back at posts that I wrote -- about snow forts, and ballet, and homeschooling, and crazy life -- and long for that life that didn't have the added stress. Kind of like noodle salad.  Simpler.

Things have changed. For now.

Tonight I completely enjoyed the task of peeling potatoes and chopping them for dinner.

How can something so simple bring so much joy?  It's as if I had forgotten the beauty of the every day.  The blessing that is found in preparing a meal for those you love.  It's when everyday normalcy is taken -- ripped -- from you that those moments of simplicity regain intense meaning.

Life.  So varied. And still in all of it there are good times.

Me? Grateful for the normal moments of today.  Potatoes. Costco. Cleaning.

Gluten-free noodle salad.

Enjoy the everyday.  There's abundant joy there.

It can be found.

....

(curious about the title? It's a quote from one of my favorite movies As Good as It Gets.)

how can one's heart hurt so bad?

I wish it was me.  Not Samuel.
I wish I could endure all the lab tests.  Not Samuel.
I wish I could give up all the food. Not Samuel.
I wish I could go to the doctors.  Not Samuel.

I don't understand.

I don't understand.

I don't understand.

I'm stuck in this place of discomfort -- frustration and anger and sadness and relief and gratefulness and back to frustration.  It's an awful feeling.  Nothing is normal.  It's all new.  Strange. And I really don't like it.  At all.

I took Samuel to see his pediatrician today.  I found out that Samuel was critically low in almost all of his nutrients. He was starving. Right in front of me. **  I just want to add that I don't blame myself --  it's an autoimmune disease -- I know there's been worry which I saw on the comments (thanks for caring friends) -- I just put the part about starving because I had been in to our previous clinic multiple times a week for several weeks telling them he wasn't absorbing his food right and they kept dismissing my concerns. It was so frustrating to speak and speak and speak and have them ignore me. ** (And to think that for weeks his old docs kept telling me that he was just sick because he was in a big family and exposed to more germs.) His wonderful new pediatrician told me that it would take several months for his intestines to heal and for him to begin to absorb nutrients and gain weight.

But there's more that's flagged.

Isn't Celiac enough?  I can't seem to wrap my brain around the idea that there is more out of balance and in need of diagnosis.  More tests.  More draws. More doctors. More. More. More.  I want to scream that this is enough.  He's just 16months old. Little. Innocent. He doesn't deserve this.

It makes my heart hurt worse than it has ever ever ever hurt my whole life.

So now we test for a whole spectrum of intolerances, and allergies, and other probs.  There's some red blood cell things and on and on.  He has to start gaining weight.  That's the real fight now.  Which is challenging with intestines that aren't working correctly.  We can do it.  We can.

I find it kind of ironic that my blog is called finding joy.  Okay - big sigh and big breath.  I can do this.  I'm grateful for the little beautiful things that remind me of the beauty and joy in life.  Like the flowers that the lady at Trader Joe's gave me last night.  Or that a $5 coupon kicked out for Pediasure at Target -- coupled  with with my $5 giftcard made me walk out of there with it for free.  Or the box of Gluten free Chex Mix that came in the mail from General Mills along with 10 eighty-five cent off coupons (I'm on a panel for them.  But still, a promo for gluten free?).  Or a friend showing up at my door with coffee. Or emails from blogging friends, and friends, and complete strangers encouraging me on this journey.  Or Samuel planting big sloppy kisses on my tear-stained cheeks.

That's joy.  Even in the midst of a hurting heart.

Finding joy. Finding joy. Finding joy.

It's there.

I know it.

goodbye lights, ornaments, and 2010

 
Yesterday I took the Christmas tree down.  That thing probably could have been up for a couple more weeks -- it was still drinking water and the needles were barely falling off.  Yet, it was totally time for me to remove it from the house. We needed space.  But, more than that, I like to start the new year without the Christmas stuff up and the house clean.

There is beautiful closure found in taking down the tree.

As I put away each ornament and pulled down the strands of light I began to ponder next year. I wondered what my life would be like when I unwrapped the strands of light.  I thought about life changes, and challenges and growth.What will life be like the next time I touch these lights? How will things change? How will they be the same?

Ornaments and decorations are interesting.  You pack them up at the end of the year only to unpack them at the almost end of the following year.  Year after year they are pulled out.  There is a beautiful nostalgia in this tradition.

As I pondered the future I also remembered this year.

Samuel 
Your first birthday. How grateful I am that emergency doctors and surgeons recognized that you needed help when you swallowed that sequin star.  We are so blessed by you in our lives.

Elijah
Your voice.  You started the year as a 2 1/2 year old who talked just a bit, and now as the year closes, you talk a blue-streak.  You are hilarious. And full of spunk. And feisty.  And such a gift.

 

Caleb
What can I say?  You are my hero. This year you started to read.  You are deeply caring.  Not a day goes by where I don't hear from you, "love you mom." You have a beautiful heart, my son.

Brennan
Super strong man.  With a heart for God.  You made me so proud when you were in your Pirate Musical.  Watching you on stage filled my heart with joy.  You are a reader, and a helper, and the leader of the band of brothers. And you look so awesome missing those front teeth. :)

Grace
My ballet princess.  You are so beautiful.  This year you dove into ballet -- and the result is exquisite.  You help me out so much.  I am blessed by your company and am so grateful to be your mom.

Chloe
This is my last year with you before you turn 13.  It seems like I just looked into your beautiful blue eyes when you were born.  And now, you're just about as tall as me.  Your heart is so tender, so pure, so focused on the Lord.  Thank you for reminding me how beautiful it is to be real.

Hannah
My oldest.  I have seen you start the year with an interest in photography which has now shifted to a passion for photography.  You capture our lives with every click.  Thank you for living your life for Christ.  Your faithfulness encourages me in my own daily walk.

Todd
My faithful husband.  This year marked five years since you were diagnosed with cancer.  These years have been hard -- ripple effects from being out of work for months due to cancer -- and yet despite the difficulties they have been beautiful.  Full of gifts, and hope, and a future.  I love you.

So now the 2010 tree is outside plopped in the snow. This journey, this Christmas, is coming to a close. Tomorrow marks a new year. New challenges. New joys.   Life keeps moving.  Time flies by.  I want to live.  Alive. Aware.  And grateful.

"For I know the plans I have for you,"

 declares the Lord, 

"plans to prosper you and not to harm you, 

plans to give you a hope and a future."

 Jeremiah 29:11