respect

I have a focus on submitting to authority. I think it is good, right, and necessary, but I have great difficulty DOING it. I generally think that my way is always better than anyone else's way.

How do I teach my daughter how to do something that I cannot properly model myself?

At least there is Grace.

succor

My brother Sol and sister Lauren posted a video on facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=950330143675&comments
...and I just love the words, so here they are.

Hail to the Lord's Anointed,
great David's greater Son!
Hail in the time appointed,
his reign on earth begun!
He comes to break oppression,
to set the captive free;
to take away transgression,
and rule in equity.

He comes with succor speedy
to those who suffer wrong;
to help the poor and needy,
and bid the weak be strong;
to give them songs for sighing,
their darkness turn to light,
whose souls, condemned and dying,
are precious in his sight.

He shall come down like showers
upon the fruitful earth;
love, joy, and hope, like flowers,
spring in his path to birth.
Before him on the mountains,
shall peace, the herald, go,
and righteousness, in fountains,
from hill to valley flow.

To him shall prayer unceasing
and daily vows ascend;
his kingdom still increasing,
a kingdom without end.
The tide of time shall never
his covenant remove;
his name shall stand forever;
his name alone is love.

dreaded denim dilemma

I wore out two more pairs of jeans in the last month. Unsalvagable (Read: rips in the thighs). I dreaded the inevitable shopping fiasco.

But no. A miracle instead. In two successive trips to Salvation Army (Owatonna's Wacky Wednesday 1/2 off and Faribault's Thrifty Thursday 1/2 off) I acquire FOUR pairs of comfortable, fashionable, namebrand, FITTING blue jeans for a grand total of $7.

If that doesn't beat all.

in lieu of whitewashing cupboards...

Bathroom and kitchen transformations are immanent. But Brett has had such a haphazard work schedule for the last month that progress is crawling. Moving, yes. Leaping and bounding, no. Every day and night when he is gone at his two jobs, I think of five new things for him to do. Add them to the list. :)

I have found or been given more free things then I ever imagined! I feel positively lavished upon. We are incredibly close to having to give stuff away. Actually, I am donating our overabundance to the youth rummage sale. Holy mackerel - we only just had our own house for two months!

This week I got a $10 OFF Kohl's coupon in the mail, and today I went to browse clearance racks and found an adorable red&white summer dress for Norah (pictured above), and a cool red tank top for myself, and spent $0.96!! Then we stopped at a friend's garage sale:

Norah's summer duds: 11 items for a total of $5

Here is a partial list of bargains we have scored via friend&family, craigslist, thrift stores, clearance, and garage sales:

dining table - futon - couch - sectional - fridge - stove - dishwasher - chest freezer - clawfoot tub - shower halo - tile - paint - rugs - curtains - rods - towel bars - drying racks - baker's rack - recycling bins- file cabinet - linen wardrobe - dresser - bookshelves - chairs - washer/dryer - pole for clothesline - swingset - floorlamps - light fixtures - light bulbs - canning jars - coffee filters - bricks for firepit - laptops - riding lawn mower - flat screen tv - tools - fabric - pillows - plants - and probably a hundred things I am forgetting!

Um, wow. My cup overflows...

bleeding hearts by our porch

spark

I think Norah's biggest love language right now is gifts. I felt a twinge of sorrow at first, because gifts are lowest on my love language scale, but that was of course because my definition was both too narrow and shallow.

The reason it is apparent is because: nearly every plaything, piece of clothing, or food begets her question, "Who gave this to me?" and then a story follows about the person who gave it to her. "Oh, Nana gave this to me!" "This was my birthday present from Lowell!" "Brenda brought me this from China!" "Papa built this for me." My own Precious Gift thus reminds me to consider the importance of giving and receiving.* I want to be like her in my exuberance of thanksgiving.

For my third mother's day, Brett gave me red cookware coinciding with my month to paint the kitchen. Norah got to play with five fluffy 4-week-old kittens. We joined Brett's sister, mother, and grandma for dinner. The day had drizzly, sunny, and windy moments, and I reflected on the great privilege of being a mother, and am so grateful for the legacy I have inherited.

"I know God won't give me anything I can't handle. I just wish he didn't trust me so much."

-Mother Teresa

*Marketers are cunning as well: Norah distinctly remembers and asks to go to the stores that give her suckers, stickers, or balloons.

flux

Two year olds do not come with an off switch. Yet when they finally zonk out you can't keep your eyes off their angelic, peaceful features. I think we're mesmerized because we just can't believe how effortlessly they pull off such a cunning deception and fool us over and over again into absolutely melting at the sound of their delicate snores.

Prepare yourself for another round of brutal honesty.

I feel as though I have a split personality. A part of me just says: roll with it. Life can be perfectly wonderful with one beautiful bright-eyed little girl. So be it. Just accept it. Be content. It's not about you. Be thankful for what you've got. The other part of me holds on like there's no tomorrow; hopes upon hope; longs, and yearns, and dreams for the answer to prayer. The other part of me BELIEVES that it will come about. That it was meant to be. That these particular desires will see fulfillment, a fulfillment that will give glory to God. ...and everything sad will come untrue.

So which is right? Which is true? I cannot deny either. I live daily in the tension. Maybe I will for my whole life.

Whatever I do, I will be certain to melt just a little longer when I gaze upon those pink eyelids and that tousled hair. Every day saying goodbye to the baby who I held and changed and sang to, as the girl that she is becoming all too quickly emerges.

new mercies

Renewal. Springing up from beneath the leafy carpet, these little buds come alive again. Doesn't their brilliance of color leave you speechless?

Not me. :oP But I have vowed not to make complaints about the weather.

I am finding that while I embrace this stewardship even more wholeheartedly than I did all the other places I rented/lived, I do not feel I possess this place. Though surrounded by brick and pavement and reverberations of town, the history of this small plot is old and rich, and as wild as the rice for which our street was named. Older than me, at least. Wilder? Hmm... Ohh, but certainly more content.

These bulbs lived here before me. They know more of this little bit of earth than I. When I see pictures of places I lived before, I think "Why there is my old friend! I knew you well, once. Do you remember those days? Perhaps I love you better now that time has come between us." One day this yard and these rooms will kindle that emotion, too.