Steady

“What makes an ‘uh’ sound?”

“A ‘u’, that says ‘uh.’”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, what are you trying to write?”

I listen to my older boys as they work together writing cards. Day after day we practice sounds, working our way through a textbook and sounding out signs and words we read while out and about. My heart swells, I am so proud of their efforts to learn and be independent. I kiss their sweet heads more often and hug them a little longer these days. My first babies.

The leaves of Fall have come and are on their way out. Tarp-full after tarp-full has been raked and dragged out back to the ever-growing pile. The blue jays are picking away at the gutters and the squirrels are storing up acorns. The same scenes every year are magnificent and comforting.

Weeks ago we spent a couple days in hospitals with Kash. A UTI that reached his one kidney; grounds for getting really bad, really fast. He lay on the hospital bed in and out of sleep and fevers, in and out of pain and anger and fear. He couldn’t tell us where it hurt and why. Couldn’t answer our questions. Always on high-alert and pleading, “ah dah, ah dah!” All done, all done. Praise God, at least he had those sounds to tell us he wanted to go home. They strapped a board under his arm and wrapped the IV tightly to it so he couldn’t pull it out as he thrashed. He screamed and screamed, his terrified eyes begging us to understand.

My mind raced back to the previous to hospital trips we’d had with our now-middle child, Caleb. Was he scared? Absolutely. But he knew we were right there, and that comforted him. There was chaos but his world was still steady.

How different life is for Kash. I’ve counted seven different homes he has lived in, for various amounts of time. Some long, some very short. Some probably trying to be stable, but unable, and some quickly passing him off to the next. How does a delayed, nonverbal child process trauma and insanity?

Josh stayed at the second hospital with Kash while I went home for Levi and Caleb. When we were finally able to drive up and get them, I admit I was nervous. Did Kash believe we had done all this to him? That we’d made him wallow in pain and purposely terrify him in a hospital? It had sure seemed like it. Would he be angry to see me? Would he even want to go home, to our home, or would he be anticipating another drive to somewhere new?

I parked in the parking garage. We had bought special donuts to share with Daddy and Kash and I prayed they’d at least spark a smile. We walked around and waited outside the elevator doors. Finally, Josh came out carrying Kash. What a long few seconds it was, watching Kash’s confused little face as I smiled and tried to determine what emotion he was feeling - if he even knew what he was feeling. They came closer and stopped next to me and the other boys, and slowly… Kash leaned out of Josh’s arms and into mine. I hid a tear and held him as we walked back to the car. Lord, thank You.

Something changed for him in the hospital. He began following me around like a lost puppy. Anywhere and everywhere I went, he went. His little hands held on to the kitchen sink as I did dishes, his long lashes and nose sticking out from under his full head of hair, watching intently. “Uh pah, uh PAH,” he would ask every few minutes. Up, up. Had he ever been snuggled and nurtured as a newborn? There are so many gaps. I held him close.

He jumped ahead a bit developmentally, and we were stunned. Then came some of the hardest days yet. I thought it would be hard to beat the intense struggle of that first month he was with us, but I was wrong. Night after cruel night; day after day he and I limped to the finish line. Days when Levi would rub my back and Caleb would come to me with pained eyes, “Mommy, don’t cry anymore.” I held them close.

Someday my older boys will understand. For now, they just know that there are days when we all struggle and there are days we all are light as a feather. They know that Kash pushes me in ways no one else has, and they are the first to remind me - “Don’t be easily upset, Momma.” We go for walks and breathe in deep. We open windows and sing worship music. We stop mid-meltdown and ask Jesus for help, and oh how He does. We find things to laugh about and places to jump and climb and explore. One day at a time, our spiral is moving upward.

Someday, Kash will talk. And maybe someday, he will share his story. There are many more things I don’t share here than things I do. His story is his, and I pray the Lord saves his soul and gives him joy in his testimony.

The blue jays find seeds and fly away. The squirrels bound across the yard, mouths full of acorns. The earth keeps spinning; its rhythmic, routine course. Such comfort our Creator instilled in our universe. I hear all three of my boys laughing and giggling… my heart swells.

“You are worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honor and power;
for You created all things, and by Your will they exist and were created.”
Revelation 4:11

This Is My Home, These Are My People

This is my home, these are my people.

This is the staircase with an extra stair and loose post, treads worn from traffic.

These are the floors that are daily walked on by feet of all sizes, leaving prints of mud or water or tiny sock fuzz.

This is the living room, where friends gather and forts are made and plants are watered. The sun shines bright on little faces watching trucks and cars, people and dogs. There are waves to neighbors and excited peeks to see if Daddy is home.

These are the books we read and re-read, shelf upon shelf upon shelf. We gather ideas, connect thoughts, giggle and share funny faces. These are the stories we tuck away, the people we learn from.

This is the kitchen, the heart of our home. This is where owies are mended, emotions are dealt with, bellies are filled. This is where lessons are taught and handwriting practiced, where more books are read and recipes learned. This is where herbs are potted, and remedies are made and administered. This is where gifts are made for friends and strangers, where conversations of every kind are had and countless prayers are said. This is where God provides and multiplies.

These are my children, who love life and learning. These are the ones who fill our home with laughter and creativity, who leave PVC pipe mazes in odd places and who tuck in their stuffed animals at quiet time. These are the ones God knit together, giving me the gift of motherhood. The ones He uses to sanctify me and make me more like Himself. These are the ones I in turn am able to teach and train in His ways.

This is my husband, the driving force of our home. This is the man who seeks the Lord and His will, who sets the course for our family and whom we happily follow. This is the man who is constantly learning and sharing what he learns, the one who teaches and listens and guides. This is the man who shares in our joys, dries our tears and makes us laugh. This is my husband, who shows me and our children more about Christ. This man makes our lives so rich.

These are the days that begin early, when the Lord graciously pries open my eyelids to teach me His ways. These are the mornings coffee is made while it’s dark and Scripture is read before little ones awake. These are the mornings God shows Himself mighty.

These are the days of sanctification, of roots going down deep. These are the days the Lord teaches and instructs, convicts and forgives. The days He fills with joy and peace and satisfaction. These are the best days, the days He has given us.

There are many rooms to this house, for nourishing, serving, growing and praising. These are the places and the faces He has surrounded me with. The gifts He has sweetly given. This is my home, and these are my people.

Wonder on a Trail || Friday Magnify

"Oh, magnify the Lord with me,
And let us exalt His name together."
Psalm 34:3

If you look closely, there are two boys hiding in those trees. Two boys bundled up in warm coats, hats, and gloves for a cold New England winter. Two boys with energy to rival race dogs, ready to explore some local trails.

Behind the camera is a mom whose heart is full and whose fingers are starting to freeze. A mom holding a small dog who would like to be a race dog, but who is restrained on a long lead.

To the side is a path full of rocks the two bundled boys love to pick through. Beyond that are trails with little waterfalls, exposed roots, hidden mushrooms. Joy-inducing nature, delicately crafted by a most amazing Creator.

Down one trail are views of a river, bitterly cold but not frozen yet. A few more months and two boys and their mother and dog will walk down and watch ice chunks floating downstream. For now, they watch birds duck under the water and reappear a few feet away. Giggles ensue.

One boy decides he needs a bathroom, and fast. Three bundled people turn the dog around and hurry back along the trail, hating to say no to the distractions of new mushrooms and rocks to climb and bridges to run across. They make it to the car with little time to spare.

Home again, home again, jiggity-jog. The door unlocked quickly, children and dog scramble out, everyone hurrying to remove bundles. Bathroom door slams.

Mom sighs, takes a sip of cold coffee. Immensely thankful for coats, hats, gloves. For a pocket camera, an energetic group of littles, a place to take in the wonder of Creation. For a home to return to, cozy and warm, to talk about findings and make plans for the next venture out.

What joy this Creator gives!

Celebrate Thanksgiving!

Freedom from Want, the Thanksgiving print. One of my favorite paintings, created by Norman Rockwell and made alive in my grandparents' home. Rockwell made this as one of four "Freedoms" in conjunction with President Roosevelt's State of the Union address in 1941. Freedom of speech and expression; freedom of worship; freedom from want; freedom from fear.

We crave freedom. We want to be able to say what we have to say and have it listened to. We want freedom to worship as we please. We want freedom to not be in need - freedom to provide for ourselves and our families. We want freedom from fear, when we can trust people around us and not have to live on the defensive.

These freedoms, and our desire to be free - they come from God. He made each of us in His image, those who believe in Him and those who don't. We have rights because He gave them to us. We can read through Proverbs and find that He desires us to be diligent, provide, and live cheerfully. We can see in Genesis that He gives us land to work and cultivate. In Leviticus we see His laws that protect and provide for His people. In the Gospels and Romans especially we see the ultimate freedom, freedom from sin through Jesus Christ.

It is because of our Creator that we can maintain earthly freedom as a good thing and desire to have it. Freedom for me, freedom for you.

This, my friends, is why it's important to fight for freedom. We fight for freedom because it's what God desires. Unjust rule and reign is contrary to what He wants.

"For You are not a God who takes pleasure in wickedness, nor shall evil dwell with You. The boastful shall not stand in Your sight; You hate all workers of iniquity. You shall destroy those who speak falsehood; the Lord abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful man" (Psalm 5:4-6).

Celebrate Thanksgiving this week, and may it be joyful. 🥂