Fiercely pursing Jesus

Chasing, Clinging, Focusing
Pursuing Jesus this year.  Fiercely.  Passionately.  Relentlessly.  Having known Christ for over 13 years...  sometimes following at more of a distance than I care to admit.  Digging to the Word.  Praying without ceasing.  Fasting for the first time.  Growing in faith.  Keeping our eyes (hearts, minds) focused on things of Heaven.

Daily
Dropping some school lessons and replacing them with Bible lessons.  Focusing on love, character, and community.  Service.  Boldly following Christ and The Spirit wherever they lead. Being misunderstood.  Confounding family and friends with our choices.  (not unlike Jesus)

Home
Joyously. Knowing this place is not our home.  Feeling out of place in this world... but in line with His will for us.  Feeling Him moving... knowing something is in the works. One step at a time.  Obedience is rewarded with another peek.  A bit more of His plan unveiled.  Excited to see how He wraps up and orchestrates all things.  Wanting to move with Him, work with Him, give up to Him and not stand in His way. Rather, follow The Way, The Truth, and The Life.  Knowing, trusting.  As good (and content) as we were with things... it's always better wherever He leads you.  Following the Pillar of Fire.

Praying.  Decided.  Having peace.

Big changes in store for us... one step at a time.

Hard

Life is never simple.  6 days after my last post, my dad passed away.  It's been 3.5 months.  Some days it is easier to bear than others.  The kids and home life keep me busy, but the hole and  the grief is still there.  It's always the odd moments when the reality of his death sneaks up on me, thundering like a wave and threatening to knock me off my feet.  

Often, it's something the kids say.  Or I'll burst into tears when I'm in the shower.  Or when I know my mom needs help and it's just not something we can do.  

I thought I was doing 'okay' when my husband's grandma when into the hospital.  She's getting on in years and is poor health at the best of times, so it was unsurprising when she was hospitalized.  At the same city hospital we took my dad.  And then she got worse.  Like my dad.  And ended up in ICU with pneumonia.  Like my dad.  We went up to be with the family and see her.  She was in the room right beside the one where my father died.  

Walking past the same nurses, the familiar sounds and smells.  It was just too much.  Walking past his room.  It took my breath away.  It was as if we were right back there going through it all again.  Making the decision at his bedside to turn off life support when nothing further could be done.  Keeping him tethered to this world  when we all knew the world that awaited him on the other side was so much better.  Sitting there as his breathing and pulse slowed.  And slowed.  And slowed some more.  Until it ceased.  Explaining to the kids.  Walking up to the casket for the first time... and the last.  Clinging to my brother as we cried at the end of the funeral.  Full military honors at the cemetery.  The presenting of the flag.  And the aching emptiness that follows.  

Trusting the Lord through it all, in spite of the heartache.  Or perhaps because of it.  Knowing His promises are true, His time perfect, and His love everlasting.  Seeing Him work in our lives (and the lives of others) in our darkest hour.  I'm not used to being on the receiving end of the prayers, the support, the help and outpouring of love that the Church shows to the hurting.  I much prefer to be the one giving.  It is an experience to learn from.  Humbling.  Growing us.  The breaking of our hearts.  The breaking of the mold.  Being remade and renewed.  Coming out on the other side.  

Deep breath.  It's nearly spring.  Creation is waking from it's rest.  A quiet time.  Ecclisiastes 3:1-4 says, 

 "There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

     a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
     a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
     a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance"

I am looking forward to dancing.

Lovely Messes

My house is a mess.  There are baskets of clean, folded clothes on the floor.  Dirty dishes on the counter.  Bits of yarn, thread, and fabric strewn about.Grass and mud tracked across the floor.  Blessings, all of it.  We are blessed enough to have more clothes than the ones we are wearing.  I have strong arms and a strong back to carry the laundry to the washer and out to the clothesline.  But I have 3 lovely little distractions that keep me from actually putting the freshly laundered items back in their drawers.  Dirty dishes mean we have been feed.  Our bellies are not empty and neither is our pantry.  We've prepared meals together and sat down to enjoy them together, as a family.  But the mess can wait because little hands tug at my clothes and small voices beg for my attention.  The fabric and notions... tangible bits of creativity.  Accomplished during naptime and after bedtime.  Blessings.  I don't mind the dirty floor.  It means we have a yard.  A sanctuary for the kids to go out, explore, have an adventure.  The mud and grass comes in on little (and not so little) shoes as they share their tales and excitement.  Blessed.  We are the stewards of this patch of earth.  These three children.  My husband.

Tilled

My almost-brother-in-law (he's really my SIL fiance') came over Sunday after church to till our garden.  He increased the size for me and it's nearly double what it had been in previous years.  There it is.  Fresh dirt, green grass around, our little maple tree that grew up in the middle.  You can see our woods out back behind the garden.  (the woods have become the children's favorite new place to play.  they're finding the magic in creation)  The front right corner (that you cannot see) is my little herb garden.

So... as I sit in the house on this windy day with my sore throat and full sinuses ... I dream.  Of my hands in the dirt.  Rows and rows of tomatoes and peppers, popcorn and sunflowers, cukes and onions, potatoes, carrots, and garlic...mmmmmm.  The children chasing the chickens and the dog chasing the children.  Sunshine and laughter in the air.

Going up

Over the past two weeks we've been putting up the playscape for the kids.  It was given to us a few years back, but life happened and we never had a chance to get it up.  But, God's timing is perfect.  The kids are the perfect age to enjoy it now!  I admit, the playscape is huge and as the mom... it scares me a bit to see my little folks scampering all over it.  But, once it's all assembled it'll be safe for everyone.  (and maybe I'll breathe a easier!)

Jack helping out.  :)

Bruce working hard.

Carlie on the slide.  (the 'scared face' was just for effect.  she's my little actress.)  :)

Scampering about.

My little helper chewing on my camera strap.  :)  (notice her white-blonde hair?!?!)

Resting in his arms

Watching Summer sleep in her papa's arms, I'm struck by something.  She's so calm and peaceful in his arms.  Always.  Bruce has always been able to calm our babies when they're crying, upset, not content.... and when I'm beyond frustrated.  He's like that everyone... not just with out children, not just with me.  He's that strong, stable, peaceful presence.  He doesn't frazzle easily and handles stress with ease (reasons why he made such a good firefighter).  I am so proud, so thankful to have him as my husband.  He's a great example of how our Heavenly Father is always there for us... unconditionally... to hold us so we can rest...and be at peace.

Dreadful

Okay, deep breath.  Yesterday, I started on a new adventure.  At this point, you probably think I'm crazy because expecting a third child, getting ready for one to start pre-school, 2nd grade for another just wasn't enough.  Not to mention attempting to run an at home business.  But this adventure isn't about spending time doing something... it's about letting go.  Letting go of control, of preconceived notions.  Letting go of unimportant things that steal away our time from what (who) matters most. 

Best pics I can do at the moment.

I dreaded my hair.  Well, actually Bruce did it for me.  I've admired dreadlocks for a number of years now.  So carefree, a beautiful evolving mess.  The absence of pretense and polish.  I've never been one to spend time on my hair.  I always found it frustrating.  Time consuming.  The products, styling tools, expense.  Just to try to look like everyone else.  Or how folks expect you to look. 

I had straight, oily hair most of my life.  After Jack was born (almost) 4 years ago it really changed.  My hair became wavy and dry.  At times it would be so crazy curly it couldn't be tamed.  I switched shampoos.  I used natural shampoo bars.  I tried no-poo (baking soda with a vinegar rinse).  Herbal hair teas.  *sigh*  Nothing helped.  I wash my hair 2-3 times a week in the summer.  More frequent washing just dries it out.  All the hair products I've tried for curly hair just makes it feel gunky.  After 4 years of fighting the craziness and mess... I'm done. 

It's been tamed by hours (and hours) of back-combing.  (and confined by a scarf... wouldn't want to scare the children)

My darling husband knew he married a hippie over 9 years ago.  :)  Over the past year I would show him pictures...."Hey, don't you think these dreads are cute?  Isn't her hair so pretty?".  He knew it was only a matter of time.  He's not the biggest fan of dreads, but he's supportive.  In the end, he decided it was best to help me so they turned out neat (as neatly as new baby dreads can be) so he could still be seen with me out in public.  :)

We have VBS (vacation bible school) at church this week and Bruce has a number of vacation days this week, too.  Church, movies, dinner out... not to mention doctor appointment check ups, and farmers market dates in the near future.  My new hair is going to get a lot of public viewing.  I was brave enough to put my hair in dreads... now I'm just hoping I'm brave enough to leave them, regardless of what others think.