From Good Stock

For twenty-four years, I've been parenting children with this man.
In the early days, we look like kids ourselves.
The moments have tumbled by, faster and faster with each baby,
and we have been blessed to always have a little hand to hold.         

It's not always been easy.
We've been, some years, poor and exhausted and impatient and immature.
Many times, our energy ran out before the day ran out.
Somehow we hung on.
 

When he was born, it seemed as though Malachi was a kind of reward,
a prize of untold worth, a treasure that arrived, unbidden, after years of famine.   

His tee shirt is from his aunt who lives in Germany.
When she gave it to him, she translated the words: "From Good Stock."
Then she laughed and said, "Literally, it translates, 'The Parents are Not Bad.'"

And my friends, that about sums it up.
The parents are not bad.
We've made many mistakes, we promise we'll make more.
That's the way of parenting, even with the shreds of wisdom we've earned.

Happy Father's Day.

While I was pregnant with Malachi, we decided to read the book of Malachi. These are the words that amazed us. They seemed to give context to the wonder of our late-in-life, late-in-marriage, baby. We were seeing the reward of our covenant. "Another thing you do: You flood the LORD's altar with tears. You weep and wail because he no longer pays attention to your offerings or accepts them with pleasure from your hands. 14 You ask, "Why?" It is because the LORD is acting as the witness between you and the wife of your youth, because you have broken faith with her, though she is your partner, the wife of your marriage covenant. 15 Has not [the LORD] made them one? In flesh and spirit they are his. And why one? Because he was seeking godly offspring. So guard yourself in your spirit, and do not break faith with the wife of your youth." (from the book of Malachi, Chapter 2)

One Week in May

I often wake up between four and five o'clock in the morning,
just as the birds are beginning their mad welcome of the day.
Somewhere high in the treetops,
fragile choristers gather in the dark,
and upon mutual agreement,
burst into song.

"Spring's a feast!
Come and see!
You won't believe!"

Up and down the high scale,
from the farthest reaches of the poplar loft,
they give voice to the new day,
as if green glowing leaves
and scudding clouds
finally decided to pour forth praise.   

This week, we had a little birthday party for my dad.
It turned out to be a fantastic day, 
where the family and the weather and the guest of honor
and the tales and the songs and the food 
all cooperated in a lovely harmony.
My dad is famous for his stories and jokes.
Here's one story. 
He had just met his future father-in-law, my Grampa Ericson.
Grampa was Swedish, a gifted engineer and carpenter,
known for taking great care of his possessions.
"See that car?" my dad asked my Grampa.
"That's my fourteenth car."
My Grampa got a sick look on his face.
At the time he had owned maybe three cars in his entire life.      

To get ready for my dad's party,
I needed a lot of help.
Isaac washed the windows, with Malachi assisting.
Malachi absolutely loved the entire window-washing operation.
At one point, while Isaac was painstakingly cleaning our French doors,
his baby brother took the squeegee and, using the same motions,
attempted to clean the dishwasher.
It's what he could reach.  

Caleb changed the dressing on his father's knee,
since I'm a wimp about things like that.

My girls helped with yard work and with Malachi. 

All the kids worked out a skit about my dad's life,
with Anna Kate on piano and Julia narrating.
The girls practiced to time the music with the script,
but didn't account for the howls of laughter from their appreciative audience.
The first "actor" was Malachi, representing Baby Jim.
He even wore the same tiny jacket my dad wore as a toddler.

The next two actors were Caleb and Krista,
portraying Jim and Carole at the University of Minnesota.
(cue music: The Minnesota Rouser)

Finally, as Julia narrated the storyline about my dad and mom serving in the jungles of Peru,
Isaac bounded onto the lawn, wielding a machete.
Since Isaac is the grandson who most resembles my dad, 
he made a convincing and appropriately epic "Jim."   

When I was in college, my roommates used to sometimes find me in a "Peru" frame of mind.
"Uh-oh," they would say. "It's a Peru day."
(The glaring clue: I would be sitting on my llama rug, looking at old pictures).

Well, this entire week has been one long "Peru day."
From hearing about how my parents decided to serve with Wycliffe Bible Translators,
to seeing old pictures of them on the river and with me and my sisters, 
to reading two jungle-themed books back-to-back,
I am awash in gratitude,
replete with memories,
thankful to the brim that I had a mom and dad who willingly left the beaten path.

My dad's life verse:
"Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain." (I Cor. 15:58)

What I just read:
When I Fell From the Sky by Juliane Koepcke, a memoir from the only survivor of the LANSA crash.
What I'm reading now:
Into the Glory by Jamie Buckingham, true stories of jungle aviation.



 

Down for the Count

Mother's Day 2014, in my weed-infested rock garden, with all five kids.

Oh so much has happened this week. I had some very bad, grumpy days, set off by the babysitter's last-minute cancellation that kept me from going to a play. I won't tell you who the babysitter was.

On Mother's Day we went to the Swedish Institute in Minneapolis. It's set smack dab in the middle of the new Somali community. The juxtaposition of today's immigrants with the immigrants of 100 years ago is fascinating. I was reminded of the Community Outreach speaker at my daughter's university, who told us that every country in the 10/40 window (the area of the world that is most difficult to reach with the Gospel), is now represented in our Twin Cities community. In other words, the 10/40 window has come to us. This fills me with hope and with shame. I am doing absolutely nothing for these people, and they live right on my doorstep.

I will resolve to pray for them. I can do that.

After going to the Swedish Institute with Nate's mom and our three youngest kids, and snacking on gluten-filled baked goods to tide us over till later, (and not feeding our fine little mother and grandma a single bite, since she's gluten-free) we breezed through Costco and then came home.

My terrible mood was slowly starting to improve, since I adore being with all my children. We watched Mick trundle through the grass, holding onto the football (but not throwing it), and dissolving in giggles when his big brothers jumped over him.

As Krista (Caleb's fiance) and I sat in our comfy chairs and watched the guys play basketball, and listened to the happy voices all around us, suddenly my husband fell onto the court and started to holler and yell (and swear, just a bit). "My knee, my knee," he shouted, clutching at his left leg. Caleb ran to the house for an Ace bandage, Isaac got the van backed up to the court, and within minutes we were loading Nate into the van for a drive to Urgent Care.

The patellar ligament tore. That's the ligament that holds the kneecap in place. The kneecap is now floating several inches above where it's supposed to be.

Nate is the sole supporter here, and his work is carpentry. So this is scary.

The funny thing is, my attitude now is much better than it was five days ago. This makes no sense at all. I feel terrible for my husband (he's not in much pain, but he's bored beyond belief). But I should be way more afraid and way more off-kilter.

The panic may strike later. In the mean time, Julia comes home from college on Friday, can I get an hallelujah? She is a marketing major, and maybe she can help us market these beauties. Feel free to share, we think somebody out there needs a piano bar. We just haven't found that person yet.

Nate has his MRI today and surgery as soon as possible. Thank you to all who are praying, we can tell you are lifting us up. Recovery time is typically about three months, with six months till the knee functions completely normally. Our hope is that he'll be able to work again in about two months.
 

These Busy, Boring Years

If a perfect weekend around here includes time with our older kids, lovely weather, good music, and some fun and frolic thrown in for good measure, then no.  
This was not a perfect weekend.
It started strong. On Thursday night, Anna Kate and I went to a Gospel concert. One of my  friends sings in the only all-female Southern Gospel quartet in the nation. Based right here in Minnesota. What a delight to hear their rich voices lifted up in praise. I'm already starting a song list of requests for their next album.
To add to the excitement of going to a concert, a real concert - the first I've gone to since Josh Garrels was here a year ago - my husband watched the baby all by himself. He balked at the idea. He wanted Anna Kate here for back-up, he knew he'd have a long night of it. He got pep-talk texts from my friend Vicki, who is so kind and gentle. "Tell him I know he can on the dad sitting! He's done much harder things in his life I would think! He can do it!"
Me: "He doesn't want to be stuck here."
Vicki: "Tell him it's good character building for him. It will be real handy down the road for something! Good male bonding time with son too!"

Yep. They stayed, they played, they bonded.

But after the concert, things devolved.
Meaning, my comfort was compromised.
Meaning, I was bored and busy at the same time.

On Saturday, I would have liked to tackle the perennial beds, but instead I played basketball with Malachi. This is how we play: he chases down the six basketballs, judiciously going from ball to ball in turn. As he brings them to me, I lift him as high as I can, which is not high enough. Then I hoist the basketball and try to make a basket, while struggling to keep a grip on my 32-pound boy. Then I set him down, he trundles off for the next ball, and we do it again. And again. There is no limit to the fun he has. He could do this all. day. long.

As for me, the fun  has a limit. On the low side. Maybe after about five baskets, I'm ready to move on. 

Here are Caleb and Malachi on Resurrection Sunday. You betcha, I miss my big kids. They are fantastic with the baby, they know how to talk, they can reach the hoop. You would think I'd be over the moon that Caleb is in med school. Sure, it's great, it's an answer to prayer, he's going to be an excellent doctor. But when I see this picture, I am just so grateful that I raised a young man who can play basketball, all by himself.  

Oh this face, this adorable face. These years are as fleeting as those pretty flowers he's smelling. 
And you know, there are days when I want to freeze time. When it's all so wonderful and beautiful that I want this moment, this exact little slice of time, the one that whoops! just passed me by, to last forever.

When we're all together and Malachi hears us laughing, and he does whatever he's doing again and again, thinking we were laughing at him.(and now, we are).

When his sturdy little body is napping next to me, and I can smell his soft clean baby smell.

When he strangles my neck by draping across me as I try to do Pilates. Oh wait. That's the part I don't actually want to freeze. It's painful (though kinda funny). It means that another thing on my list is not going to get done today.

It's almost embarrassing, how much I want to make my life comfortable and easy. Even after five kids, I wrestle with letting go of my schedule, my desires, my avenues of amusement. I feel like this life is a long exercise in loosening my grip. The Lord is continually prying my fingers off the things that I hold so tightly. (Yah, now you're singing "Let it Go" from Frozen. Nope, I'm not gonna give you that song. I'm leaving you with one from my friend's quartet, Sweetwater Revival).

Here's to the week ahead, my friends. To what we get done, and to what gets done in us.

"Our Lord Jesus did the will of His Father with delight. He hated the iniquity which so often tries to dominate us -- selfishness, surrender to the easy, and so on. Therefore He was the gladdest of all the sons of men. The same law applies to His followers. Who among us can be counted on for happiness? It is those who never take self into consideration at all. They are the happy ones of a family." (Amy Carmichael)

And now for some Southern Gospel: here is "Blessed Assurance," sung by  Sweetwater Revival.
 

Birds

All the real birds have burrowed in to find refuge from this fresh snowfall.
We have about eight inches, clinging softly to branches and rooftops.
It's supposed to melt soon, very soon.

From now till spring, I'm going to need daffodils from Trader Joe's every week.

What's happening around here: 

~We toured the big expensive houses on the Rum River and got some good ideas for our not-so-big house.
~We visited my great-aunt and beheld her new washing machine. Her old one was 45 years old. We asked for it, because it looks promising as a possible desk. The spin canister will make a fine garbage can. Nate thinks it might make an interesting chandelier, but we'll start with garbage can and go from there. Photos soon, I promise.
~Julia turned 19. Like all of us, she is a work in progress, but like Mary Poppins, she is practically perfect in every way (yes, I know I'm her mom, but she's been wonderful ever since she got out of the Terrible Twos). I am so thankful for her. For the first time in her whole life, I did not get to see and hug my daughter on her birthday. But she's coming home today, so we'll get lots of hugs then. 
~Malachi was diagnosed with two cavities. None of my other babies had cavities. We're figuring out treatment options. We don't want him traumatized by the (strapped-down) in-office procedure, but neither do we want the $3500 hospital bill from an anesthetized out-patient treatment.
~The real birds have been enjoying our neighbor's crab-apple trees. Even at the end of winter, some fruit still remains. As the clusters of birds whirled and swooped upon the trees, Malachi looked out the window and exclaimed, "Oooh! Oooh!" Daddy came along and said, "Oh look. I think those are Cedar Waxwings." Makes me laugh.    

Blessings on your weekend, and (of course!) here's a song for you. Ben Kyle is a very good local musician, catch a concert if you can. He's from Belfast and you will enjoy both song and story.

March Forward

It's been a busy month, busy in the way that life with a toddler keeps me on my toes all day long.
The days are slowly warming up (although today is a set-back, we're in the single digits again),
so in this picture, Malachi is sporting a new pair of shorts.

Our March has been both quiet and eventful, with stretches of boredom interspersed with warrior prayer sessions. 

~Our kitchen island is covered with a flurry of house plans. Nate's mom is a house designer, and she keeps reworking our ideas (she's so patient). Then Nate and Anna Kate and I peruse her plans and dream up changes. I haven't wanted to move. I love our location and I'm fond of our house. But as we pray about it, I slowly feel my heart softening. If we move, it will be about a half-hour north (farther from church, farther from friends, farther from Red Wing, farther from our kids' universities). That thought makes me feel lonely. But on the other hand, as Tevye would say, we could finally get a house that fits our needs. And that thought makes my heart soar.

~Caleb, our second son, asked his lovely girlfriend Krista to marry him. She said yes! They are planning a summer wedding. I am a fan of short engagements. It will be a small family wedding. Soon we will begin coaching Malachi on walking a straight line so he can be a proper ring-bearer. (Malachi lost out to Isaac for best man honors).

~We always have plenty to pray for, but right now the list is especially long. At the very top is our earnest request for healing for a close family member. If you want to pray with us, we are calling on the Lord to restore our nephew's health. He is very young and he has Type 1 Diabetes. Sometimes when we don't know how to pray, I remember the words from Jesus and I ask, "Make this on earth as it is in heaven." In heaven there is no diabetes, no fear, no dread that the other shoe is going to drop.     

~Malachi got a bed. Now this is a pointless bed, since he sleeps with Mommy and Daddy and probably thinks he always will. We placed it at the foot of our bed and covered it with a beautiful quilt made by our talented niece. He had so much fun watching Daddy and Anna Kate put it together. He keeps climbing on it and jumping on it. I know a day will come when he will sleep in this bed. In fact, maybe we will build a new house and he will have his own bedroom. Then I can decorate it with grays and blues pulled from the quilt, and maybe, finally, get a full night's sleep. I can't even imagine what that must be like.                 
 

(Quilt by Lisa, bear by Great-Grandma)   

This might be a reading nook, or a jumping place, or a cute little bench. It's certainly not where Malachi plans to rest his weary head every night.

World's Best Cookies

This week:

Nate and Anna Kate got cabinet latches on many of the drawers (we didn't think we could, but he figured out a way), so now I have a few minutes to get things done. For several weeks all I did was run interference on a busy toddler.

Caleb and Krista visited on Saturday, the first time they've been here since Christmas. I was relieved to find that Malachi had not forgotten his big brother. He adores Krista too, she's stronger than she looks and she hoisted all 32 pounds of him with aplomb. Next time Caleb comes home (realistically that will be around Easter), I want to see him practice his stethoscope skills on his baby bro. And while he's at it, hammer a few knees. Basically I want to see the "real" doctor kit in use. When Isaac and Caleb were two and three, I overheard this conversation while they played with a toy kit:

"Caleb, you are dying, wite?"
Then, "No, I'm the goctor I said."
(Loud cries from Caleb).
Isaac, emphatically, "You are dying I said."

Somehow they (and their little sisters) survived childhood. Every now and then I have a jolt of terror that we have to go through all this again, only this time we are much older and more worn down. And the culture around us seems more damaging. And we have pulled out of the amazing charter school that gave our kids safe - and it turns out, life-long - friendships.

But back to our week. Isaac got a job at Boston Scientific. Yes, Praise the Lord! Honestly, Praise Him. I don't think I've ever seen my husband so happy as when he found out our first-born was offered that job. He was offered another job in a neighboring state, but we're delighted that he chose Boston Sci. As soon as he took the job, Nate sat right down and figured out the expenses that would now be lifted from our shoulders. Drum roll, please. It's about a thousand dollars a year. Yep, that's it. Turns out Isaac is our cheapest kid. He's been paying his own rent and food through most of his college years. We truly don't coddle our kids. We nurture them, but more in the way of prayers and cookies than with outlays of cold hard cash (which we don't have anyway).

On Thursday, we went to the Como Conservatory  again, this time with my parents. It was as warm, tropical, fragrant and green as last time. This time we had the benefit of my dad's stories from the jungle. When we came across a palm tree with a thorn-covered trunk - these thorns were serious, about three inches long - he said that once in Jungle Camp (where Wycliffe members used to go for jungle survival training), he was yanking open a tube of plastic and his hand flew back, right into the thorn-covered tree next to him. The thorns were removed, but his hand became infected. Then he told a worse story. A man from the Shapra-Candoshi people was running like fury through the jungle, trying to escape a herd of wild boar. He was forced to climb the nearest tree. You guessed it. A thorn-covered palm.

As my dad said, that Candoshi man was between a rock and a hard place. And although most of us haven't had to run from wild boars and escape by climbing a thorny tree, we can relate to that awful trapped feeling. I hope at those times we remember the great "yet" of God's promises. Amy Carmichael said, "We accept our Father's will and know that He has given us the victory over all the power of the enemy. Nevertheless, there are times when we do need special strength if we are not to break down before the end. Our Father knows this; He does not say, 'You accepted all at the beginning; this that tries your spirit now was included in that.' His love understands and He sends an angel to strengthen us."

His love understands. What a beautiful phrase.

Finally, back to the title of this post. One day last week I found this recipe on Summer Harms's blog. She said these cookies were the best thing to come out of her kitchen. It's the truth. They are so thin, crispy, chewy, almond-y and chocolate-y, that Anna Kate and I couldn't stop eating them. We had to hide them from ourselves. I recommend making a double batch.

Enjoy!

Field Trip to the Capitol

We walked into the Minnesota Capitol on a hushed morning in February.
It was the perfect time to go.
The politicians don't arrive till the end of the month.
From June until next January, the entire building will be shut down for repairs.
As it was, we drove up the Hill with the back of the building on our left,
and its backside is covered, sealed, in white plastic.
Artisans and photographers and tour guides were the only ones there.
And a small group ahead of us.
And we four.

Nate has not had much work since Christmas.
Stressful, yes, and not as relaxing as one might think.
But things appear to be looking up, work starts tomorrow,
and we decided to get out of the house on this fine sunny day.

Here is what I knew about the Capitol:
It was designed by Cass Gilbert.

Here is what I did not know:
It was built when Minnesota had been a state for only 37 years (begun in 1898, completed in 1905).
It is a Civil War Memorial.
Cass Gilbert designed not only the building, but also the decorations (furniture, lighting,
and commissioning of artwork).

The golden sculpture at the base of the Dome is called "The Progress of the State,"
but is commonly known as the Quadriga.

Babyface and one of the spectacular hallway ceilings.
 

This window is in the ceiling of (I think) the Chamber of the House of Representatives.
All around, in every grand Chamber and in each hallway, are words (in both Latin and English),
quotes that extoll government and law.
I guess the words didn't impress me much.
I kept thinking of the terrible shouting matches that have taken place here,
and how many times "my side" has lost. 

Malachi was all for running around and climbing stairs.
The stairs are shallow and wide,
so he was thrown off his normal crawling pattern. 

With my baby in the Rotunda,
next to one of Cass Gilbert's lamps.
Malachi is looking up,
which is always the right thing to do,
whether we are in the middle of a long winter,
or mired in our own particular sorrow,
or simply unsure of our next step.

The building was so beautiful, so complete, so authentic,
that as we wandered its hallways,
I wasn't as burdened by thoughts of Rome
(and its inevitable fall)
as I thought I would be.

I'll leave you with a glimpse of heaven,
where the Designer is perfect,
judgement is merciful,
the halls ring with music,
and nothing, nothing,
separates us from perfect joy.

"I did not see a temple in the city,
because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb
are its temple.
The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it,
for the Glory of God gives it light,
and the Lamb is its lamp.
The nations will walk by its light,
and the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it.
On no day will its gates ever be shut,
for there will be no night there.
The glory and honor of the nations will be brought into it.
Nothing impure will ever enter it,
nor will anyone who does what is shameful and deceitful,
but only those whose names are written 
in the Lamb's book of life."
(Revelation 21:22-27) 

The Long Winter

On a cold winter morning, my daughter and her cousin tried to play outside in their Little House outfits.
It did not go so well.
The dresses are calico cotton, and because the girls were trying to look authentic, they skipped snow pants and warm hats. Instead, they wore my Grampa Ericson's old coat (the brown suede one) and my black wool coat. They topped their braids with wraps. 
They looked pretty cute, and Malachi was all for joining them, but they were back inside within minutes.

What grows, when the weather is this cold?
Inside our warm house, the ivy from Grampa Murphy's casket spray is growing beautifully.

This December, my daughters decided that the old mantel display had to go.
I was in complete agreement, but somehow, lethargy had set in.
I could not figure out what to do with the big urns on either end of the mantel.
My girls decided to start fresh, and the urns, with the horribly dusty ivy inside them, went bye-bye.
In their place we now have this vintage barn block, a mirrored metal piece from Junk Market, an antler, and Grampa's ivy.
On the other end of the mantel is a potted tree from my friend Vicki. She found it at IKEA for fifty cents, and gave it to me with apologies for its near-death appearance.
It's one of the best gifts I've ever been given.

Every spring, this little tree is covered with pink blossoms.

 

Next up: painting the mantel.

I'll show you the reveal as soon as Nate allows us to paint.

Apparently, it's quite a project.

The stark contrast between my warm house, where children and plants are growing,
and the dangerously cold outdoors, where nothing at all appears to thrive,
astounds me every year.

The truth is that at all times, something is growing.
Whether we see it or not, change is taking place.
Thank you Jesus, for the way you make something beautiful
out of what looks like death and loss.

(Watching Anna Kate and Naomi struggle through the deep snow reminded me of these verses from Isaiah).

 This is what the Lord says—
    he who made a way through the sea,
    a path through the mighty waters, 
 who drew out the chariots and horses,
    the army and reinforcements together,
and they lay there, never to rise again,
    extinguished, snuffed out like a wick: 
“Forget the former things;
    do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland. 
 The wild animals honor me,
    the jackals and the owls,
because I provide water in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland,
to give drink to my people, my chosen,    
the people I formed for myself
    that they may proclaim my praise."
 (Isaiah 43:16-21)

Greenhoused

(If you want to hear the sounds of the Conservatory - running water and trilling birds - click here first).

"Greenhoused and sung to

I pray light will

Leak from our pockets

We'll be drenched, overcome"

(Michelle Garrels, "Jacaranda")

We went to the Conservatory.
I wanted to go the day before, but no one else was on board.
On this bright and icy Monday, we actually got out the door in good time and made the easy drive to Minnesota's nearest jungle.

One hundred years ago, local leaders were using their heads.
They hired a German landscape artist named Frederick Nussbaumer to design a 60,000 square foot glass and wood building, modeled after Kew Gardens in England.
All this beauty, all this watery air, a wealth of palms and ferns and familiar fruiting trees (mango, coconut, cacao, avocado), all of it, free.     

 The Conservatory, banked in snow

Today Malachi is having a busy day. He can reach every knife in the knife drawer. So this post will be almost all pictures. Enjoy, and if you live within spitting distance of St. Paul, take your weary winter self to the Marjorie McNeely Conservatory.   

The Sunken Garden

Palms inside the dome.

White roses in the Sunken Garden.

Trying to get Mick to look at the camera

Sometimes, if we only have a couple of kids with us,

we like to pretend we're on a date.   

  

Walking on the paths, no coats!

Oh for joy.  

This was the part of the conservatory with all the trees from my childhood.

I was especially thrilled to see the mango tree with its long, deep green leaves.

Texture, color, light and childhood memories.

Perfection.

"In difficult times

carry something beautiful

in your heart."

(Blaise Pascal)

Springs of Life (a Reading List)

 Our oldest and youngest, reading their new books.

Happy New Year to all my friends. 2013 was a good year for our family. We didn't have the health struggles that robbed us of joy in previous years. We had regular employment (for Nate) and busy, productive days. Some days were difficult, but they were of an ordinary difficulty. They didn't feel impossible. Even the loss of Nate's dad was a reminder of the Lord's faithfulness. We wish we had more good years with him, but we are thankful for the time we were given.

But I know that gratitude for the last year is not true for everyone. I know that some people struggled mightily, with illness and sadness and loneliness and loss. We have been there (and knowing the nature of life, we'll cycle through some valleys again). I've been thinking about the sorrow of this time of year. About darkness. About what helped me most when the future seemed bleak and scary. 

What worked for me won't work for everyone. But for what it's worth, here's what I did (or on some days, vaguely attempted to do. You who are in it, understand):

Start the day with a song

For me this means singing out loud, usually an old praise song. Some of my favorites are "Praise the Savior," which no one seems to know anymore, and "You Can Have This Whole World, Give Me Jesus." I often sing hymns. Find what works for you, what you love to sing, and start to sing the minute your feet hit the floor. Praise banishes darkness.  

Find friends who know how to listen

Or, find a good counselor who is paid to listen.

Exercise
When my mind swirled with confusion, and it didn't feel like God was answering any of our prayers, I kept going to the gym at the beginning of the day (about four days a week). God made our bodies to move. You can't buy endorphins, you have to earn them. And they're worth every bit of pain and any inconvenience. Now I don't go to the gym, because I'm home with two kids. I try to do bit of the Tracy Anderson workout and some Pilates. But they aren't the same. What works best is a good old-fashioned work-out.  

Guard your heart.

Proverbs 4:23 (ESV) says, "Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life."

And yet we do so little to guard our heart, to keep it with all vigilance. We feast on bread that does not satisfy, and we wonder why we are left hungry and desperate. These last nineteen month with a nursing baby, I've spent countless hours in front of the television. It's a waste of time. But some stations are more of a waste than others. I keep that remote handy, I try to practice vigilance, and if I can't find anything worth watching, I turn off the tv and lean my head back and rest. And pray.

So on the topic of guarding your heart, I'm including our family's current reading list. It's so cold this week. Yesterday never even reached zero degrees. But with the fireplace burning, and the cream puffs baking golden in the oven, and the baby running around, and all of my big kids burrowing into their books, it felt warm. It felt nurturing and peaceful. I only wish I could join them. My reading is done in fits and starts, usually very late at night and in the wee hours of the morning. 

Malachi is reading Barnyard Dance, Jorge el Curioso, Mr. Brown Can Moo!, and Brown Bear, Brown Bear. He especially loves the Brown Bear book because each corner "swipes" to reveal the next animal.

Anna Kate just read Katherine Patterson's Jacob Have I Loved. Next up: either a Narnia book, or a Betsy-Tacy. I will choose, and she probably won't be happy about it. 

Julia just finished How Green Was My Valley by Richard Llewellyn. I think it's one of my top five faves, but my sister, an English teacher, doesn't love it as much as I do.

Caleb does not have time to read. However, the books he got for Christmas include Manalive, Heretics, and Orthodoxy by Chesterton, The Checklist Manifesto by Gawande, and The Beloved Works of C.S. Lewis.

Isaac just finished Phantases by George MacDonald, a book he's read twice before and enjoys so much that we gave it as a gift this year. Now he's reading Pensees by Blaise Pascal, which Caleb gave him. 

I am reading The Wind in the Willows for the first time. It was a gift from Isaac. I like it very much, and it's high time we owned it.

Nate is reading a book from Isaac called Beyond Band of Brothers. I think he's liking it.

What are you reading this year? I'd love to know.

(lyrics to Praise the Savior)

Praise the Savior, ye who know him,
Who can tell how much we owe him?
Gladly let us render to him
All we are and have.

Jesus is the Name that charms us
He for conflict fits and arms us
Nothing moves and nothing harms us
While we trust in him.

Trust in him ye saints forever
He is faithful, changing never
Neither force nor guile can sever
Those he loves from him.

Keep us Lord, oh keep us cleaving
To thyself and still believing
Till the hour of our receiving
Our eternal home.

Then we shall be what we would be
Then we shall be what we should be
Things that are not now but could be
Soon shall be our own.

(hope that's right - it's from a faulty memory)

And here's a promise for 2014: Neither force nor guile can sever those he loves from him.

Christmas Week

Our Christmas:
-Attending Isaac's college graduation on December 20th. He now has his undergrad in Math and Engineering and is interviewing for jobs.
-Going to the Murphy Christmas, always a large, loud crowd, but missing Grampa.
-Having all five of our kids home, and seeing that the baby is loving it. He has so many people to relate to. Anna Kate and I suspected he got bored with us, and now we're sure of it.
-Worshiping at our church's candlelight ceremony on Christmas Eve. It's probably my favorite night of the year. We drove through something resembling a snowstorm, and wondered if it was worth it to drive 45 minutes each way in such conditions. But when the candles are lit (with Malachi saying, "Hot! Hot!" the entire time) and a thousand people are softly singing "Silent Night," then yes. It's worth it.
-Hosting my parents, Nate's mom, and my sister's family here on Christmas Day. The weather was warm and the kids played outside for hours, sledding on our hill and building a snow fort. The annual tradition we most anticipate is Isaac's crocheted gift to Caleb. It's beyond description every time. Photographs do not do it justice. Also, photos could get somebody arrested. This year, Isaac decided that Caleb's trousseau was complete, and the torch was passed to Malachi. I can text a photo upon request.
-Going to my aunt and uncle's lake home for the Daggett Christmas party. Again, the weather was unseasonably warm and the kids played outside for hours. They skated on the lake and started another snow fort. During the day a few of us went on a little field trip to see my cousin Sarah's remodeled 1920's farmhouse. I love looking at houses, especially at houses like this one. Sarah's husband gutted the house, working during weekends and after his carpentry day job. They designed little sleeping alcoves in the upstairs bedrooms that are perfectly charming. The kids' bedrooms have a common area, but under the eaves, behind a wall, is just enough space for the beds. It's cozy and wonderful.

At each family gathering, we handed out the lyrics to "All Glory Be to Christ," and each group sang this new/old song with feeling. I mostly cried. I cried at the Murphy Christmas because I was reminded of Dad's legacy and how much he cared for all of us. I cried at our house because the room was filled with the people I love best in the whole world. And I cried at the Daggett gathering because the song was sung by my dear relatives, most of them gifted singers, and the music sounded just as it was meant to sound. All glory be to Christ.    

Some songs should be longer, and "Auld Land Syne" is one of those songs. Now with these lyrics, it's the right length, and it is worshipful.   

Cuddling with my toddler and reading one of his new books.      

We are in a deep chill again, so all the kids have their nose in a book. In fact, I can't always get help with the baby. Everyone is reading.    

A snowy day and a warm little guy.
A beautiful, memorable Christmas.
I hope yours was, too.
Happy New Year, and here are the new lyrics I wrote about.


All Glory Be to Christ
lyrics by Dustin Kensrue
traditional Scot folk melody

Should nothing of our efforts stand
No legacy survive
Unless the Lord does raise the house
In vain its builders strive.

To you who boast tomorrow's gain
Tell me what is your life?
A mist that vanishes at dawn
All glory be to Christ!

Chorus
All glory be to Christ our King!
All glory be to Christ!
His rule and reign we'll ever sing
All glory be to Christ!

His will be done
His kingdom come
On earth as is above,
Who is himself our daily bread,
Praise him the Lord of love.

Let living water satisfy
The thirsty without price
We'll take a cup of kindness yet
All glory be to Christ!

(Chorus)

When on the day the great I Am
The faithful and the true
The Lamb who was for sinners slain
Is making all things new.

Behold our God shall live with us
And be our steadfast light
And we shall e're his people be
All glory be to Christ!

(Chorus)

Loss and Gain

This week has been full of strong emotions, silence, stories and tears. Nate's dad, Herb, passed from this life to the next on Tuesday, November 5th. Suddenly the illness and the difficulties of the last few years are over. We simply remember the way he used to be, the energy and drive he had, the love he gave.

I am finding it's true that the words, "I am so sorry for your loss" are immensely comforting.

Loss. It's a sad word. It means that there was something beautiful to lose.

For that we are grateful.

My husband and his mom agreed that Nate should build his dad's casket. There wasn't much time. It needed to be finished by this afternoon.

While he worked, he listened to "Love and War and the Sea in Between," Josh Garrels' most recent release. The music played loudly, the bandsaw growled along, and my talented husband blessed his father with a final gift.

Nate and Malachi

A father's love. "For he himself is our peace." (Eph. 2:14)

A son's love.

Hard-working hands, just like his dad's.

Grampa with two of his beloved grandchildren, June 2011.

I'll say this. Life is too short to waste on meanness. This week we've all been gentle with each other. It's been easy to be kind, even though we're tired and sad. The gentleness reminds us of Nate's dad. It's like a parting gift from him.

Here's an epic song. Perfect Christmas gift, by the way.

Baby Elephant

Our week:
~A quiet visit with Gramma and Grampa Murphy on Wednesday. We got to tell Grampa how much we love him. He wasn't able to talk, but in the last day or so he has spoken a bit.
~Anna Kate and I came down with the flu. We had a miserable day of it, trying to care for a toddler while almost unable to walk. It's been a decade since I've had to take care of a baby while I was sick. I'm so glad we were only sick for one day.
~At the end of our sick day, we decided we had just enough strength to walk around part of our block with our baby elephant. He was a big hit. This is a costume I made 17 years ago for my friend Maryjo's little girl, and Maryjo graciously gave me the costume after Kendyl wore it. Every one of my parents' grandkids from Julia on down dressed up as the baby elephant.
~Last weekend we saw our big boys when they came to visit their Grampa, and today we will get Julia home for the weekend. She wants to visit Grampa too.
~Nate and I spend lots of time talking about his Dad, remembering some of the ways he has blessed us. We keep the Kleenex handy in every room of the house now.

Malachi Jude, the skeptical elephant. His head is so big that the velcro wouldn't stay fastened under his chin.

I love these baby elephant ears.  And I love the baby elephant! 

Malachi was bent on impressing his big brother Isaac. He said all his words, played peek-a-boo and So Big, walked, danced, and generally showed off everything he knew.

Every year save one, since she was eight years old, Anna Kate has been a prairie girl for All Saint's Day (haha, we aren't fans of Halloween...but we love to dress up). This is her current prairie dress. Malachi was deciding that her puzzle was better than his. She was so weak and sick on the 31st that she didn't put on any costume. Honestly, we could hardly drag ourselves the last hundred yards home.

There have been many tears this week, but also some sweet days of making new memories.
Blessings on all of you supportive friends. Thank you for your words of love and encouragement, and for your prayers on our behalf.