Silence

Oh, the sweet sound of silence. I actually wish that I was writing this entry out by hand, so that all I could hear would be the sound of pen on journal paper. 9:38 p.m., and all I hear is the hum of the fridge, the click-clack of my keyboard, and a basketball hitting cement as the neighbor boy enjoys the temperate summer evening. 

This is the first time it’s been silent since 6:30 this morning, as I was woken up from my “morning nap” on the couch by two handsome and very energetic little boys. Since that time, I have gotten kids dressed and fed. I have studied Scripture with a friend. I have answered kid questions. I have gone to the grocery store. I have fed kids more. I have disciplined. I have soothed a baby’s cries. I have hung out with friends. I have pointed boys in the right way. I have sung song after song to get my three-year-old child to take a nap. I have picked up MagnaTiles and moved couches. I have pat the baby on my shoulder while reading a book to another child. I have worked over a soapy, watery sink with my five year old. I have been a listening ear for my husband.

And now this silence is so sweet to my ear and my soul. Some peace. Oh, sweet peace. Part of me wants to stay up all night and clean up my house in peace—put all the books back where they go and file all of the papers that need to get filed and throw away all of the old coupons that have been expired for two months. And the other part of me just wants to sit here and be silent with this silent house. I just want to let the silence weigh heavy in the air, let it soak into my bones, let it press its memory on my mind.

In this peace, in this silence, I want to hear God talk. Here in this place, all I need to think about is being His kid, not taking care of three kids. Here in this silence, I can begin to feel some restoration for my mind. My mind that is tired and a bit worn today. My mind that wonders if I’m up for this challenge of raising three boys, and doing it right. This mind that thinks a lot about giving anything, but wonders if I have anything to give.

My friend Katrina, who doesn’t like dust, asked tonight why anyone would willing put themselves into a position where they were camping. Well, Katrina, I think it’s the silence that draws me. I can get lost in the kind of silence that camping offers, surrounded by fir trees and stars. I can get lost in this silence that God is offering me this night. A chance to stop and to hear the voice he’s placed inside my heart—that quiet voice that often gets overrun by the noise around me. That voice that whispers, “I see you. You are loved. You are special. You are my precious kid. Rest here in my arms for a bit, my dear heart.”

Sounds good to me.

He leads me beside still waters.

He restores my soul.

Psalm 23:2-3

Double Triple

Yesterday, we celebrated my second son's third birthday.

Ezekiel. The baby whose name caught us off guard. The baby whose strong will matched his strong frame. The baby who fought sleep. The toddler who brought me to tears. The toddler who screamed and used that voice to cut like a sword. The toddler who climbed up the ladder and slid down the slide on his own before he could even walk. The little boy who repeats everything his brother says (and does). The little boy who can hike up to Eagle Lake. The little boy whose hearty laugh infects the whole room. The little boy who shares all that he has with people around him. The little boy who is learning how to express his emotions. The little boy who is gaining an appreciation for using his strength for good.

This little boy turned three yesterday... and in the words of my dear friend, "he's two going on four."

As I was singing my energetic boy to sleep last night (ok, he was actually already asleep by the time I started singing--birthdays are draining!), God gave me a moment to glimpse into our past. The song I sang to my tuckered-out "big boy" was the same one I had made up a few years ago, when his refusal to sleep was wearing away at my sanity.

Oh, my little child, fall asleep;

Let the peace of Christ guard your heart.

Oh, my little child, fall asleep;

And from Him never depart.

Oh, my little child, close your eyes;

Wrap yourself in His great love.

Oh, my little child, close your eyes;

And dream sweetly of grace above.

And I saw for a moment how fleeting time is. Because it was not that long ago that I began to sing that song to him... but my worn-out three year old seems very far removed from that crying baby cradled in my arms.

It made me marvel at all the days that we have already passed through together, and it stirred excitement in my heart for the days ahead.

Happy Birthday, little guy. You are loved.

Praise [the Lord] for his mighty deeds;

praise him according to his excellent greatness!

Psalm 150:2

Beginning

Four weeks ago, we had the privilege of introducing another member to our family.

Simon's first day

Simon.

He is amazing and perfectly perfect. He begun as God's idea, not ours (my love and I were quite happy with our two boys). God blessed our obedience to his will with an uneventful and fairly easy pregnancy and delivery. And now we are quite happy with our three boys.

We have been counting our blessings as we are adjusting to this new life. We are surrounded by the love and care of our church family, who have showered us with gifts, meals and kindness beyond our imagination. The outpouring of generosity has helped us in unspeakable ways as we transition to the new demands of having an infant in the house again.

The heart swells at different times when there's a newborn in your house. For me, my "falling in love" has been unique for each boy. With my first born, it came around week six, when he began responding to my interactions with him. With my second born, it was after he had been home for about a week. With Simon, my mom-heart loved him the moment I held him in my arms and witnessed his first breath.

But a few nights ago, I fell deeper. 

Simon's dark little eyes, which are now able to see much more than they could a few weeks ago, were focused on his big brother, Noah. We were all sitting together on the couch, reading our Bible storybook. Simon focused in on Noah's face and kept that focus, unwavering, for a few minutes. It was like he was taking time to memorize every single feature on his big brother's face.

That moment was made even more precious by the fact that this interaction took place on my oldest brother's birthday. Here is this new baby, a new soul, who is soaking up his environment, studying the face of his oldest brother--someone he will look up to and have a relationship with for many years to come. There will be a bond between them that is like none other. I thought about my special relationship with my oldest brother.

And my heart swelled with the thought of the special relationship these two will share.

Noah holds Simon for the first time

Who has done such mighty deeds,

    summoning each new generation from the beginning of time?

It is I, the Lord, the First and the Last.

    I alone am he.

Isaiah 41:2

Trust and Patience

Well, yesterday was the day. The day that I had a five percent chance of meeting this little boy blessing who’s been residing within my body for the last 38 weeks. May 11. The day that’s been on the calendar and that’s been the topic of many conversations over the last half year.

I’m not frustrated that I didn’t get to meet him yesterday. Perhaps it’s the part of me that’s naturally patient. But even more than that, I feel like it’s the knowledge and trust I have in the God of all. The Lord of life itself, who challenged me over a year ago to relinquish my desire to control my family to him, has a plan for when this baby needs to be born. He will make it happen in his right time. And I am very satisfied to rest in that.

People are telling me that I’m “dropping” or that I look like it could happen at any time. That’s how I feel, but I also know from experience that people don’t really know what they’re talking about when it comes to gauging a pregnant lady’s “term.” I like how my doctor put it: her crystal ball is fuzzy. 

There’s just no way to know when a baby will be born, which in and of itself is a beautiful exercise in trust and patience. Perhaps God has each momma go through this exercise (multiple times for some of us) to give us a little practice in this trust and patience. There’s no doubt that as these little babies grow up into toddlers and young kids and old kids and grown kids that we continually must walk this line of trust and patience. 

Trust:

We trust that God knows what’s best and has perfect timing in every circumstance. We trust that we are doing all we can as moms to aid the development of our children and provide for their safety and well-being.

Patience:

We are patient (or if we’re not, we drive ourselves crazy with disappointment) for our children to reach each new milestone, to develop in ways that are good and pleasing, to make mature choices, to attain the ideals that we have set before them. And there is even more patience required when they do not even follow the path we desire for them, when they become who they are rather than who we want them to be.

Trust. Patience.

Perhaps I will forever be "practicing" this lesson.

Redemption

I held him in my lap, his ear close to my heart, rocking back and forth slowly on the old rocking chair. This was not how it was.

Earlier.

Earlier, he had pushed my buttons to their limits. Earlier, he had looked at me with those testing eyes and done precisely what I had told him not to do. Earlier, he had been so whiny that I couldn’t even understand what he was trying to whine about. Earlier, he had been crying and frustrated. 

Earlier.

Earlier, I had no patience for his delays. Earlier, I had no grace for his deliberate disobedience. Earlier, I used my mean voice. Earlier, I put him in time out on multiple occasions. Earlier, I felt my heart filling with bitterness. Earlier, I buried my head in prayer because it was the only thing I had the strength to do. Earlier, I was crying and frustrated. 

Earlier.

Earlier, I thought that the battle to get his dirty pull-up changed followed by the battle to get him into his bed for nap would be the end of it. Earlier, I assumed that his poor attitude was from over-tiredness. Earlier, I was thankful for the silence I heard from the bedroom, signaling that sleep had come and that there was rest for my weary mom-soul.

But he woke from his nap groggy and crabby, still holding stubbornly to his idea of how the house should be run. I quickly put up my defenses, preparing for another hour of hard ball. He deliberately disobeyed; I threatened with more punishment. He cried and I looked at the clock, marking the minutes until my husband would be home. And I prayed again, “God, show me how to reach through to him.” I was tired of being frustrated with him, and he was sick of being the source of my frustration. He stood at the door to the backyard, weeping.

I put dinner in the oven and walked over to him, not knowing what to do. I picked him up and he held on tight. So I held on tight. I sat down in the rocking chair that gets rare use. And we rocked. He and I. Me and him. His sobs gradually slowing, and then silencing, as I lightly rubbed his back. We stayed like that for a long time. I talked to God about redemption, and thanked him for redeeming me as a mom and my son as a boy. Peace found its way back to my soul. I spoke in soothing words to my boy about forgiveness and love. He snuggled into me and his breathing slowed. I had dinner in the oven and a baby moving around in my belly, but I didn’t care. There was no other thing I wanted to be focused on in that moment than my relationship with my son. There was no room for anything in my heart than beholding the beautiful joy of being brought back together after pushing each other away. In a simple act, a simple sharing of space and silence and slowed breaths, the cares and frustrations from before vanished like smoke, and were replaced by true and lasting love from God. 

Dear heart, this is redemption. This is forgiveness. This is love.

I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist.

Return to me for I have redeemed you.

Isaiah 44:22

Peace

The afternoon breeze that moves the leaves of our large shade tree in back is cool today. The spring sun is warm, traveling down through blue sky, remiss of any cloud. The wind picks up again and there is a rustle of sweet beauty outside. Inside the house is silent. The boys are sleeping and my love is out for a run. Here in this tranquility, I am thankful for peace. Like the cool breeze that gives life to resting leaves, the peace of this quiet house is precious.

Soon, the boys stir, both waking up at the time time. The big one ready for a snuggle; the small one ready for a snack.Berry-flavored yogurts. Peanut butter and honey. Water. This, too, is precious: this peace of being able to provide for them as their mom. To give them food when they are hungry. To establish routines of predictability for their growing brains. To read them stories to inspire their imaginations. To have peace and love come together. Here is the joy of being a mom.

Now they sit in front of the TV for their screen time of the day, providing commentary to the video game in the unique way that boys do. There is no arguing, no hitting, no yelling. Just the relaxed conversations of boys who are home. Sweet peace.

—-

A day is coming soon when we will introduce another little boy into this clan. As he moves to find a comfortable place within my belly, I wonder where his comfortable place will be within these walls and within this family. Will his arrival bring peace? My previous experiences with newborns stirs up in me senses of exhaustion and loud cries and constant demands: practically the opposite of peace in my head.

Perhaps that is why God has been working in me a great lesson in peace. He is showing me that it comes daily—that it cannot be stored up, but I must be dependent on him for its existence in my life. He is showing me how it comes in small times and in small ways, usually at times when I do not expect it, and when it would be easy to gloss over it; but those are the powerful moments—those moments when we are only aware of his magnificent work if we take a step back to look outside of ourselves to what is going on around us. His peace is precious indeed.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. John 14:27

Balance

Balance: the ability to keep everything steady and in right alignment.

They say during pregnancy that one's balance is off. Blame the extra hormones and lax ligaments. This lack of balance has kept me from so much as touching my road bike for the last seven months, and it makes me extremely "tackle-able" by the boys. 

However, my physical balance hasn't been the only thing that's been off lately.  As I think this morning about the lessons I'm learning right now, and the ways in which I've been challenged in the previous month, a lack of balance seems to be at the core. For example:

• Today I have plenty of energy and drive. I crossed five things off my to-do list before 9:00 a.m. I think that's twice as many things as I accomplished ALL DAY yesterday, when I was dragging to even get one kid into the car.

• This week, I feel fully connected to my love, which is a glad change of events from last week, where I felt like I was spending more time with the dishes than I was with him.

• On days where the boys are both in preschool or when they take long naps, I am organized and on top of the projects I'm working on. But... that's opposed to every other day of the week when there are either no naps or no down time. On those days, I wonder how I'll ever be able to follow through on the commitments that I've made.

• There are days when I am confident that our family system can handle the change that a new baby will bring. And there are days that the fear of what is to come is so overwhelming that it freezes me in my tracks.

My love calls me a professional waffler. I think he's right. Even so, the chaos of imbalance of the day-to-day is almost enough to drive me bananas.

As long as I'm aware of my need for balance, and the steps to take to achieve it, it should be relatively easy to attain, right? But when I'm put into the driver's seat, I feel like a cautious four year old who isn't ready to give up his training wheels. I hold on to the things that make me comfortable: the very things that hinder me from attaining true balance.

So I land here: the only way to get the balance that I need is to put my mind and heart into complete imbalance, to forget the notion of having my life look like a level balance scale, and instead, to focus solely on the One who outweighs everything else.

There is the stability. There is the end to chaos. And through the imbalance of a heart that is focused, He can bring balance to all that is desired.

You will keep in perfect peace

all who trust in you,

all whose thoughts are fixed on you!

Isaiah 26:3