Not so wordy Wednesday

A little flashback to a bunny from Easter's past.

Is he the cutest hopper or what?

(2008)

In extreme gratitude

Sometimes my gratitude is so great that the only release is the spillage over of a tear or two running down my cheeks.

I was lying on my king size bed one overcast afternoon with four of my five children. Each of us suffering in some small way because of an ugly virus setting up camp in our bodies. A cough here, a sweaty head there, an achy ear and sinus' full of pressure. A little bit of everything. So much, and yet so little, really.

As we lie there side by side by side by side by side (the joys of a king bed), we talked, we laughed, we prayed, we sang. With curtains drawn tightly and covers up around our chins, we were at peace in our sickness. We were together.

I listened as song after song quietly played on our favorite Christian radio station, long after the four bodies around me fell still. I let the tears roll down my weary face. I could not be more grateful. In that moment my heart was so moved with gratitude realizing that I could not be more profoundly blessed than I already am. I could not ask for anything more than what I have been freely given.

In that moment of uncertain health and questionable physical ailments, I felt so overwhelmed with thankfulness. I know that tomorrow will be better than today. Not because I am guaranteed health, wealth and security. But because these people, the kids and spouse God has given me, are with me. Maybe not in perfect health. Maybe not even forever. But in this moment I find peace. I see God's good and gracious love.

Her faith is great, her joy complete

Her pudgy fingers wrap tightly around my pinkies. She squeezes and squeals with excitement at the prospect of being upright and walking around like the other humans in her environment. She can hardly keep herself sturdy enough due to the thrill she feels in the movement of her body forward.

She stumbles. She grabs more securely. She ventures forward again.

She knows that I have her back. I have her covered. I will catch her if she falters. I will raise her upright if she topples over.

My presence is enough security for her that neither worry nor fear crowds into her mind. Her trust is great. My love is strong.

Father God, my faith in you is not always as evident as my daughter's is in me. Grant me today the trust and security that she feels. Hold tightly to my fingers as I stumble my way forward. Through the love of another, let me feel a reassuring hand upon my shoulder, steadying me, anchoring me. Give me her excitement and glee for life and its many adventures. Walk me step by step closer to you. Thank you for your ever present love and protection. Amen

Not so wordy Wednesday

I am feeling a bit like this lion today.

Any adjectives to throw out there?

*(photo courtesy of Andrew Chad)

She's got my back...and front

Upon walking back from receiving communion, Olivia whispers, "turn towards me mom." "Why?", I whisper back. "I think some of Elli's milk is leaking."

Grabbing the scarf that I was suddenly thankful I had accessorized with that morning, she continues, "Oh wait, never mind. I guess not."

Yes, I still breastfeed. And that is never something you hope to hear.

Bits of my weekend-Volume 4

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Not to be coy

It is coming from this place. What is your favorite?

Taking matters into my own hands

I have never been one to ask my husband for a gift. We really are not much for gift giving around here, to each other, anyway. We are far to practical and conservative to ever go out on a limb and get something whimsical or luxurious simply because it would be romantic or extravagant.

I know. That is very depressing, isn't it? Because what is life if it isn't a bit impractical and flamboyant from time to time?


But, it is what it is. It just is not our personalities to express our love through any sort of exchange of niceties, material, verbal...or otherwise. A nice clean stack of underwear in the drawer or an empty recycling bin speak volumes of our love for each other. Even if it is a totally boring and very lacking in grandiose sort of love. It is mine and I am all over it.

So I am out of my regular territory here. I saw something that I wanted. Very badly. Something that would make a fantastic mother's day gift. Something that upon seeing it made me feel all warm and mushy inside. I knew I had to have it. Except I do not ask for gifts. And there was not a prayer in the Vatican that would get Chad over to the website to find it himself. And it just did not seem like the sort of thing a girl should be buying for herself...for no reason.

So I gazed upon it frequently. Longed for it inwardly. Kept silent my desires. Until I stumbled onto an offer of a rare one day only 20% off and an invitation to order early to ensure Mother's Day delivery.

I had no time to think. I had no time to drop hints. I could not give Olivia a run down of the website, have her memorize the reasons why mom deserved this luxury, and leave her direct purchasing instructions for her to recite to her father. Time just was not available. I had to act quickly or lose the opportunity for the special pricing. And because the item was a bit spendy, a discount was greatly appreciated.

I ordered my own Mother's Day gift. And for the first time, in a LONG time, it was not an item of necessity. It was not a new dining room table, or a new front door, or a hospital bill for delivering a baby on Mother's Day. It was extravagant, whimsical, fabulous.

Now I have approximately 2-4 weeks to convince Chad that it was his idea.

Bits of my weekend- volume 3

Parenting in a new era

Elizabeth is the first baby that I have parented with 'big kids' in the house. You know, kids not in diapers, pull-ups, or bed wetting of any sort.

It is different. That is for sure. Things that were once right handy simply because of frequency of use, are now often forgotten about altogether. Now, however, there is an older sibling and a younger pair of legs than my own, to run after and fetch it for mama.

I noticed recently that Elli has not had the exposure to classical music that the others did. As first time parents we loaded up on all that jazz...or more accurately all that classic, for Nicholas. And because he was still so young when the others came around, it had not yet been removed from his CD player. So they all benefited from the brain growing tunes.

I remember mornings of dancing around the nursery after bath time with a bouncing baby Olivia and a pudgy toddler, Nicholas, to the tunes of "Fuggi, Fuggi, Fuggi da Questo Cielo" by Giuseppino. An absolute hit with the kids long into their years as pre-schoolers. Nicholas even took it for show-n-tell in Kindergarten so that he could share his favorite music with his class. That 'Smart Symphonies' disc stayed front and center for a good many years.

I realized the other day while dancing around the living room with Miss Elizabeth to a rockin' "Let's Get Crazy" by Miley Cyrus, that I might not be giving her the same quality of stimulation.

She is being raised with the benefits and influences of older siblings. I guess if Hannah Montana is as bad as it gets, I can live with the trade off of an eight year old's music so long as that eight year old continues to read her stories, rock her with her blankie, and play silly face making games with her as well.

But just in case, I think I will go dust off the Mozart.

Bits of my weekend- volume 2

Our weekend centered around one of the children in particular. Miss Olivia received her second sacrament. Reconciliation.

She started her weekend off with a retreat, to help prepare her heart for the graces it would be receiving.

Head bowed in prayer

Crafting the candle that will symbolize her light of Christ.

In an effort to help a friend, Andrew and Kate had a friend to play with Saturday.

Katharine spent time coloring.

Elli seized the opportunity for a nap. Wish I could have joined her.

Sunday, Olivia had her first Reconciliation. Here the class is signing and singing a song.

The Good Shepherd taking care of His little lamb.

Noticeably absent, Nicholas has a day of fun with friends on Saturday while Chad attended a men's retreat.

Olympic hopefuls

Nicholas' thoughts upon entering the living room after dinner. Where his little brother and sister had been playing while I cooked.

"Oh my word, mom is going to pound you guys. If making a ginormous mess fast was an Olympic sport, you two would take home the gold!"

What do you think? Got any contenders in this sport?

No burning books on his watch

On a recent family outing to the library I thought it wise to reiterate some of the ground rules while still holding the kids captive in the vehicle. Just to ensure that once their feet hit the ground I did not lose them in a foot race to the door.

The father of the family was still quite uncertain that this was indeed a good idea. He sometimes has to be convinced to travel outside of his comfort zone and insists on keeping things like logic and practicality at the forefront of every activity.

So in an effort to prove that I had indeed successfully rallied my troops for a library outing many a time in the past, I thought that a little game of "raise your hand if you can tell mommy a rule we follow at the library," would not only show my sharp mothering skills but go far in easing Mr. Grumpy Pants' mind.

Four hands quickly shot up. Trying not in the least to hide my pride in their quick participation, I pointed to Andrew and said, "Yes, Andy, tell me a rule." In a voice completely not fitting the environment we were about to enter, he hollered proudly, "NO SMOKING IN THE LIBRARY!"

Okay, so I was thinking more along the lines of 'No running.' 'No shouting.' 'No taking books off of shelves without a grown up.'

But he does bring up a good point.

Bits of my weekend...

Michele, at Six in the City, is hosting a weekly 'bits of my weekend'. She challenged us to grab our cameras and give a sampling of our weekend through the eye of the lens. However, my hands were a bit full this weekend. So my addition is through the lens seen by my four year old. Enjoy!

...through the eyes of this young man.