Today, I’m celebrating 10 years of marriage with my amazing husband, and later this month will be the anniversary of our first date, 15 years ago. He’s the only man I’ve ever kissed, the only one I could ever say “I, do” to. I know what he’s thinking before he says anything. When he walks into the room, I instinctively recognize my other half; when he’s gone, part of me is missing. We’re no longer two separate people; we’re US. One. I don’t even know how to describe how we’ve grown together over the years. It’s a miracle, really. No, it’s a mystery.

I don’t think it’s cliche’ to say that I love him more now than ever–it’s natural. It’s what is supposed to happen. With every passing day and year, the bond between us gets stronger, a fusing together of hearts and minds, of dreams and plans.

I hardly recognize those two awkward, young teenagers who nervously held hands on their first date. We have both changed so much, and gone through so much, but it’s always been together. At every bend, with every new big dream, we turn to the other and see the same spark, a recognition. No longer two, but one.

Happy anniversary, honey! I love you!

“Creatively” focused photo courtesy of our 4 year old, taken last week on our family vacation.

He was also going to have to wait about four hours before getting on another flight, and get home really late at night. Instead, he ended up walking down to another terminal in the airport, and there was a flight leaving in 10 minutes that he had just enough time to catch. He ended up getting home only a little while later than he would have. God is so good to us and he is more than enough!

You’ve given me so much joy, Owen, and even though it hurts me to see how quickly you are growing up, I love to watch the years go by, seeing you become who you were made to be. I love being your mom! May you always be sensitive and caring, full of joy in the little things as well as the big ones. May you love God and serve him all of the days of your life, and may you always find rest in the shadow of his wings.

Then…

And now…

Not because I have to, but because what else could my response be to such a love as this?

“What kind of mother do I want to be?”
“What kind of wife do I want to be?”
“What can I do really well?”
“What can I let go of?”
“What is my purpose in this moment?”

Thinking…

It’s a new year and I’ve been thinking a lot about life and what I want to get out of this whole thing. I have a choice–I can keep going on as usual, getting distracted by the day-to-day drudgery, unable to see the gifts and getting disillusioned by the American dream. Or I can choose something better–to take a risk, to place all my eggs in one basket, to choose to live deliberately, like every choice, every action, every prayer makes a difference.

I’ve been inspired by this post by Randy:

In the next twelve months, I want to believe for more than I believed for in 2009. I want to reach harder and burn hotter than I did in 2009. Should someone want to write my story at the end of my days, I want them to stare at January 1, 2010 wondering “What in God’s name happened to him then?’

That’s what I want from this coming year. To give myself fully to living out this life that I’ve been given, whatever that looks like, whatever it takes, I don’t want to look back and have any regrets. I don’t want this life to go to waste.

Yesterday I did something really dumb. And I couldn’t fix it myself. I’m so used to being the “super mom”, the one who saves the day. I fix broken toys, broken bodies, broken hearts. It’s my job. But yesterday, I couldn’t fix it. I was dependent on someone else to do it for me. I had to admit that I made a mistake and then wait for it to be fixed. Just wait. I kept being tempted to try to make it better, but knowing that whatever I tried to do would only make things worse. And she wasn’t even mad at me. I wanted her to say, “boy, you sure screwed up.” That’s what I deserved. But she didn’t. She gave me grace. And perspective.

Isn’t it the same with Christ? We screw up. We fall short. We make mistakes. And then we try to fix it ourselves, all the while, making a muddle of everything. And then we have a choice, we can continue on in this mess, “getting what we deserve,” or we can accept that we can’t fix it. Only Jesus can take away my sin, make me clean, change my heart, make things new. It’s offensive, this grace. It’s hard to say, “I give up, I’m at Your mercy, I can’t do it myself.”

He’s not surprised when we fall short. He knew what we were like when He chose us. So we should not be ashamed to come to Him, to crawl into His lap and say, “Abba, I can’t…only You can…” And then He does. He delights in restoring and healing and making new, because He loves us.

So even if it’s offensive, let’s choose grace. Give grace to everyone you know, and receive it from the One who gave up everything for you. It’s so much better this way.

Today, I woke up with a massive to-do list, needing to make preparations for receiving my mother-in-law tonight, homeschool with the kids and get caught up on the things that I let slide over the weekend. Good thing my to-do list is on a dry-erase board!

Instead of struggling out of bed, I went back to sleep. The kids got their own breakfast and let me rest. Nice. After I got up and started laundry, I decided we needed to just take the day off from business as usual. We needed some time for our bodies and minds to recuperate. So without further ado, here is how to have a “mental health day” while still homeschooling.

1. Close the curtains so none of your neighbors sees the chaos in your living room. This step is really easy if you still haven’t opened the curtains from last night. Admire the sunlight streaming through cheap cotton. Science, check.

2. Let your kids go crazy with the playdough. Have them find every tiny plastic toy in your house and dump it on the table. Art, check.

3. While you’ve got out the playdough, encourage 5th-century-barbarian-attack re-enactments with Polly Pockets, knights and some plastic army guys. History, check.

4. Rummage through the refrigerator and see what you can come up with for lunch in under 30 seconds. Decide on pepperoni, cheddar cheese and crackers. Justify it by remembering that these crackers are ORGANIC. Sprint up the stairs with three plates to hungry, waiting children. Watch as children jump up and down with excitement about eating pepperoni on a plate. Physical education, check.

5. Let children eat “lunch” in laundry closet. Give them two flashlights and some blankets and let them go to town. Admire their ability at so quickly figuring out how to fit three people in such a small space. Math, check.

6. Set out small pile of reading material, choosing books with colorful covers, where possible. Take a picture of it, because it looks so pretty all stacked up on the counter. Decide it looks too nice to mess with and read aloud from a couple of library books instead. Reading, check.

7. Survey the mess that is now your house, and decide that you still have 5 hours before anyone can possibly show up at your front door. Pour a cup of hot tea, send the kids off to quiet time and go hide out with a book.

Happiness, check.

In the last couple of weeks, I’ve taken up scribing. I’ve been wanting to make His words more a part of my everyday life and, as someone who always has a pen in hand, this simple but powerful act just makes sense. I’ve started with my favorite book, Revelation, and am slowly working my way through, pausing to breathe in His words and carefully scratching them out onto paper. It’s fitting really, since we’ve been talking about scribes in school this past week, and although I don’t write as beautifully as those monks did, the words still shine.