Hiding

I sometimes wish I could just curl down in my bed, pull the covers over my head and sleep away the responsibilities pressing at my door. It is good to know that this desire is so innate even babies warm to it.

Evangeline must be hiding from the overwhelming knowledge that today is going to hold feedings, poops and naps. It's a hard life.

Sitting Trust

Our children were recently taught the game Trust. It is a pretty simple concept. One person stands behind another while they fall straight backward, like a board tipping over, and are finally caught under the arms just before they reach the floor. I don't think it takes a genius to figure out where the game gets its name.

This evening my middle children were entirely engrossed in playing Trust when Daddy decided to join the fun. Being much more reliable than their siblings, each child grew more and more bold in falling backwards. Finally Phoebe wanted a try.

Christopher explained to her that she needed to stand with her back towards him and fall. She watched a few more sisters take the plunge before deciding it was her turn. As she set herself up we all watched with anticipation. Christopher took her through the motions with verbal directions and then even worked a bit of the plan with pantomime. At last she was ready to take the plunge. Holding his hands just barely away from her body he counted down for her to fall.

She sat straight down and then laid herself flat on the ground between Christopher's legs.

She was tickled pink that she had survived the game!

But It Weren't

I have posted before about the adorable ways my smallish children confuse their words. The examples are endless from my life and I'm sure from yours. You don't even need to have children to appreciate the hilarity of communicating with an only slightly verbal mini human. In fact, whole television shows are devoted to the subject and constantly receive high reviews.

Of course our version always seem to be the most adorable... to me.

This morning Josiah was disciplined for screaming at his sister. When he was ready to reconcile he came to me and said:

Please forgive me for screaming when you have told me multiple, multiple times to don't. 

Yep. I did tell him multiple, multiple times to don't. I'm glad he understands.

My Psalm

It is generally considered good advice to write publicly about things that you have already processed. You know, stuff over which you've already had emotional closure so that you can somewhat objectively share your heart. Perhaps it is also a safety precaution so when other people respond to you in ways that might be hurtful you aren't quite so tender. Yep, it is definitely a good idea to wait before spilling your guts.

But I don't have that luxury right now.

I am hurting. My pain might not be what you think it is, and come to think of it, it doesn't really matter. It could be a difficult marriage or a troubled teenager. Perhaps it is a medical concern or a loved one's diagnosis. Perhaps it is the same thing that brings tears to your eyes. In fact, let's pretend it is, because what I have to say applies just as much to you as it does to me.

We need help! I need help!

I don't know how to keep on keeping on. I feel hopeless. Lost. And not a little scared. What if this isn't a season? What if this doesn't do the, "and this too shall pass" thing that everyone likes to say in that breezy, overly confident manner we use when someone else's pain hits just a little too close to home? How do I escape the sense that I'm being swallowed by a numbness that I can't even define?

I want to speak a word to myself. I need to hear this. I need you to listen for me, too. I need this to be loud and public because I'm afraid that if I just let it ruminate in the back of my mind it might start to sound fake, cheap and shallow. But it can't. It must ring with authenticity, hope and a truth so solid that nothing in me can contradict it.

His [Jesus Christ] grace is sufficient. His strength is made perfect in my weakness. He loves me. And He IS my savior.

He saves me from my pain, my fatigue, my fear of failure. He saves me from my brokenness, my sin and my ego. He saves me from my maladies, my idiosyncrasies, my hypocrisy. He saves me from the ridicule of others, the criticism of my enemies, the naive assumptions made about me and my family. He saves me from a life lived in futility, a life filled with the uncertainty that there is a good God and He really does save sinners. 

He saves me from myself. 

I need saving. I need it right now. I need to be reminded that when I mess up I don't lose it all. I need a gentle touch, but perhaps I don't and He is willing to bring me to humility because He really does have my best interest at heart. He knows. He understands. He walks this path with me and sees the hurt, the thing eating at me, the thing eating at you.

Jesus Christ. King of Kings and Lord of Lords. The Alpha and the Omega. The Beginning and the End. The Author of Life, Redeemer of the Lost, Savior to the World. The great I Am.

He. Is. My. God. And He will raise me up like an eagle soaring into the heavens. He will deliver me from my affliction. He will testify to my salvation. He will anoint my head with the oil of gladness. He will call my name, and He will come running when I see Him from afar. 

He is faithful. And He will do it.

Gibberish in Idaho

My husband is leaving for a joy-ride to Idaho in just a couple of days. My children have caught the excitement in the air, and are playing that all-famous game, Idaho.

Yeah, I know. You loved it as a kid, too.

Today, Leah was leading a rousing rendition of Idaho when she called out from the playset, "Vamos y capore tunishia!" Phoebe excitedly followed suit, waving her hand frantically from the sky bridge and shouting, "Yunishia vamoshy gotoreshy!"

Obviously Josiah was somewhat dumbfounded by what his next move in Idaho was to be. Thankfully Leah provided a translation. "I just said hello and welcome to our boat to Idaho. I also told you I would not forsake you. That means I won't hurt you."

I'm glad she clarified. Phoebe just kept waving.