his first story.

the other day during nap time, i let coen stay up with me while i worked on a quick project for the dining room. as i started writing on the large piece of paper, coen asked if he could as well, with the same sort of marker i was using.

i almost said no, because of the extra fuss and mess. but thankfully, i said yes.
i'm learning how to say yes more, and lean into the mess and fuss.
because, goodness, how they bloom through it.

and so, he started "writing" a story. he asked once how to spell norah's name, and he wrote it himself, along with his own.

when he finished, he told me his story.

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Coen. 

And he had a sister named Norah. 

One day, Norah and Coen went on an adventure, 

looking for dragons dead and alive. 

The End.

watching his imagination develop and grow has been such a gift. 

i can't wait to hear more.

love.

this christmas.

we maybe barely pulled christmas off, in the midst of life being full and busy, but we did it.

and the kids had a blast.

i didn't get many photos this year, but are a few (sometimes blurry) moments from our christmas:







we hope you all had a very merry christmas, too!

this last year has been one full of its own difficulty, lots of transition, and so much grace.
as we reflect on the goodness of God that we have seen and felt this year, we are so excited to welcome in the new year, and we are sending our love and warmest wishes to each of you!

love.

life, lately.

note: i'm just going to jump in here like i haven't been missing from this blog for months and months with pretty much no explanation. okay? thanks.

life has been busy, in so many good ways, but still--it's so busy.

the kids are huge and wonderful and so smart. for those of you who don't know, we started kindergarten at home this fall. AND IT IS GOING SO WELL. i was pretty much a nervous mess of a wreck leading into it, afraid i would fail in every way. but so far, the little man is loving it and flying through. he is starting to love to learn, and he even read his first little book this week.

guys, i'm a homeschooling mom. how did that even happen?

we have been adjusting slowing to more routine and schedule. and by we, i mean us girls. c loves and thrives on schedule and predictability. and i am certain that just being his mom will continue to shape me into someone better, hopefully with more structure.

too much time has passed to just photo dump essentially a year's worth of photos into one post, so let's just start fresh, with a few highlights of our fall. we are anxiously awaiting the holidays, and i think it will be the best one yet now that the kids are getting in on the excitement with me.

i foresee lots of christmas music, movies and even more twinkling lights joining us in our days pretty soon. and sadly, even more excuse to watch frozen. but, that's just part of being a mother in the twenty-fifteen, i guess.

till next time (soon).

love.

on silence.

"i've begun to realize that you can listen to silence and learn from it. it has a quality and a dimension all its own."- chaim potok

i have never been fond of silence.

somewhere along the way of growing up, the silence became my enemy. it did the very opposite of comfort and instead, it was loud and buzzing with insults, criticism, and fear. eventually i learned to fill any moments void of outside noise with whatever i could--books, movies, music, and people, as often as i could find myself around them.

perhaps that was the start of it, but i'd like to think that i was made to crave words. there is something essential and spiritual to me about words in all mediums. but how often the most damaging sort to me, are my own.

words are how i live, thrive, and crumble.

i love people.
i love talking with them, engaging with them.

i quickly feel connected to someone after i share bits of my soul through words, and learn about parts of theirs. these words are the root of my foundations and are intertwined with the essence of my faith. talking about the things that dwell in my soul is what makes me feel whole.

simply put, i find comfort in the exchange of words. without the ability to use my words, i feel as if i am not fully functioning in the way i was meant to, from the beginning.
___

this has been a season of transition--a stretch of days, weeks, and months that has been filled with so many lessons for both our hearts and minds.

and, it has been a season light on words.

they have stuck in my fingertips, and stuck on the tip of my tongue.
and they have refused to fully form most times i have tried to push them out despite their defiance.
for months now, there have been times i've felt as if they have betrayed me.

my passion, dried up.

but the thing is, i think i'm starting to see why.

i've been learning so much of my heart lately, and that there is correlation between how quickly my words jump out of my mouth and how unsettled my heart is.

oh, how much i rely on those exchanges for comfort and contentment.
and the anxiety i feel when i come up wanting for words correlates so closely with the discontentment in my own soul.

i have reverted back to my default position, my good old survival mentality. once again, i viciously dread the silence. i allow my vulnerabilities, my faults, and my fears to scream at me once outside sounds cease. because i see my lack, and my lack of ability to fix my sin, and i push it down.

and i run from facing the things that need to be pulled out by their roots by proverbially putting my hands to my ears as i fill the silence, and add a stomp of a foot each time i hit "next" on netflix to watch just one more show.

i am missing so many moments of communion with God, i cringe at the thought of even trying to count.

so many missed opportunities to hear him speak through the chaos in my mind, and to calm the waters that rage in the moments void of sound.

there are countless passages that speak to stillness.
to waiting. to listening. to simply being.

be still. it says.
yet i am hardly ever still. at least not in the true sense.
how often instead do i grab my phone, bouncing from one app to another, until i calm my reeling mind (as if that ever really works)? or pulling up netflix when i have a short respite or a few moments to myself.

how do i expect to have words of merit flow out, when i resist putting anything of merit in?

so as part of a chapter ends and a new one begins, i have looking back at more and more unearthed sins and corners of my heart filled with complacency. corners i had forgotten about for years.
it has been messy at times, and fruitful too, though sometimes it seems the lesser.

and yet, i feel my heart being stirred to action.

i have learned more about patience.
perseverance.
contentment.
faith.

and silence.

learning how to hold my words.
and learning to let them go, and to listen, instead.
beginning to pursue contentment, and inspiration.
instead of demanding inspiration (like that ever works).

and so here i sit, looking forward to learning to love the silence once again. to embrace it, drink from it, and let my words flow out from it. it won't be an easy process, but not many things of worth really are.  so, i am encouraged.

and for that, i am ever thankful.
because i know that God will meet me in it.

love.

in with the new (a few thoughts).

suddenly, it's a new year the new year is in full swing.

life has been busy and strange and tiring, but it has been so good and full of hard lessons for my heart and head. in a season that is so much more mild than years past, i've struggled as if it were anything but, and in ways that are new to me. discontentment. anxiety. fear. depression. joylessness.

but in it, i have seen so much fruit.
and through it, i've acquired a thirst for change.

i've pulled back from social media some (if you follow me, you may have noticed) and have been observing my use of time in general. from it, i've seen a lack, and have been learning to exercise more self-control, to be more present in the life of my days. i desire to be the kind of woman that purposefully seeks out small moments, knowing that they are precious and are what shape my memories of these years. i want to be the kind of woman who strives for the mundane to be as full of joy as the highs and the lows alike. 

i want to be the kind of woman that that leaves that legacy to those around me, when they remember these days long past.

______

so, if i had to pick a word to anthem this year, i'd say it was joy.
but, really, that doesn't quite cut it. and since i have a tendency to use too many words in general life to just choose one, i picked three instead:

present. 
creative. 
and, most of all, joyful.

these words are the essence of my prayers for this year. i'm already staggered by the way i see God pushing my heart and shaping the way i think and act. i feel excited and passionate (and even able!) to grow in so many areas: in planning, praying, studying, writing, reading, heath, exercising, parenting, marriage-ing (we're going to say that's a thing, ok?), and loving well.

i'm sure i won't master most of these, but really, the goal is to strive. to surrender. to faithfully, passionately pursue growth in the areas i feel God is pushing me in, faithful that he will work through my brokenness and weakness to produce fruit and growth. and that his glory will be seen in its midst.

and so, my goal is not to set resolutions (i know i will break them), or to be perfect (this broken side of heaven), but it is to learn now how to use this life well--to be a light and an encouragement to those around me, pointing them to the gospel that is the very thing that gives me breath.

starting with the two small ones that watch me so closely every day.

this life is short. i not only want to embrace and savor each and every moment--i want to make them brim with joy and grace and the exhilaration that comes from taking this life and making it a good one. this is my first step in what i hope to be a life-long journey, full of joy.

so here's to 2015.
let's do this.

love.

oh, hey 2015.

happy new year! (give or take a week.)

i've missed this blog. but my absence has ended up being a good thing, i think, and i feel refreshed and excited for this new year.

life has been flying by, and small people are growing up. we're getting more settled into our new(ish) home and the space has been even more beneficial than i had imagined it would be. we survived the busy holidays and so far have stayed pretty healthy--a fact that i am not taking for granted, as health still seems like more of a novelty around here than a given.

this new season has brought strange and different challenges, in areas that i didn't expect. but we are learning and growing and settling into this new rhythm of life we've found ourselves in. some of us more gracefully than others, and i admit that probably doesn't include me.

but despite the (new, normal) hardships of life, we have been able to experience grace in large amounts, and in many ways. and really, because of that, life has been sweet.

isn't it always, though? 

love.

photo credit: misi photo.

10.14.14

dear c and n--

life is going to be hard sometimes.

you've already experienced it in different ways--sickness and hardship and exhaustion has encountered our little family more than we would have liked. and still, as the years grow that you live this life on earth, more hard times will come.

but there is hope. 
because just as there is sweet in the hard, there is hope in the hopeless.
and there is grace for it all.

what i want most in the world for you is that as you grow, you grow in your love for--and faith in--God. that your hearts would always be tender towards his word and his grace and his redeeming love.

if i leave nothing else behind as my legacy for you, i hope that it is this--that you love well, that you live fully, and that you cling to the one that ransomed you, through all the things that come your way.

your hearts are large and your souls are sweet. both of you have such a joy and love within that radiates out and affects those around you in great ways. let these be what drive you in your efforts as you grow, and as your pursue the one that loves you perfectly.

you are precious to me.
you are precious to your father.
and you even more precious to the God that was kind enough to give you both to us.

dear ones, cling to one who gives us grace and redeems our souls to glory.
never lose hope.

love,
mama.

thoughts from a darkened hospital room.

my flesh and my heart may fail, 

but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

- psalm 73:26

two nights ago, i wrote hope-filled words of a new, somewhat unfamiliar season of health and life for us. i felt so full of peace and encouraged at the thought of green pastures before us, ready and waiting to be explored--family outings, date nights, long conversations filled with shared hopes and dreams that might be realized sooner than later.

four hours later, i woke to the familiar and unwanted sound of my husband in pain.

it's funny how quickly you go back there. to breathing every detail of years of pain and sickness as if it were still your daily reality. as if you'd never left the side of the hospital bed two years ago.

and then the fear comes. because you know what comes of those groans too well.

as life has been getting easier around here, i've secretly been waiting for the other shoe to drop. as if i was sure that this life we've been given--that we've made together--is too sweet, too good, to not be riddled with pain and end in disaster.

this man that i have is the air i breathe. and if i'm honest with myself, sometimes i'm afraid he'll be taken away because i love him too much and because i know i don't deserve him.

and yet he is a living, tangible evidence of grace realized in front of my eyes on a daily basis. because a person like me, broken and sinful with bags of filth and pain and cold-hearted days shouldn't be loved, let alone cherished, by someone like him. someone who has shown me love sweeter than i knew existed. who has given me the children that make my heart ache in the best way.

with such an obvious reminder of the gospel working out in my life every day, i should be easily reminded of the larger truth of the love of God that has redeemed me and keeps me.

and yet, i've found myself living in a state of fear pretty often throughout the past year. fearing that these people i love most will be scooped up and taken from my arms in this life. i fear the unknown of the future and the inevitable pain and loss that will come eventually. because in this life, all things end.
____

yesterday we sat in a darkened ER room and waited for consults, CT scans, tests and answers. the quiet was a welcome sound and i was aware and thankful of the blessing of medicine as i watched the chest of the man i love rise and fall in a peaceful rhythm.

and in that moment, i remembered that our God is faithful. and i could believe it with the fibers of myself. he is good, and he cares for this man of mine more than i can fathom, even with him having the devotion of my entire heart and soul.

and we can rest in the character of the one that does not change whether we are in the valleys or on the lush high grounds of our lives. this God that is faithful, and that is good.

we can persevere in the midst of pain because, as he has shown us time and time again, he will see us through.

there is something in the raw, helpless moments of the unknowns and the what ifs that can allow the presence of God to slip in and calm the anxious heart, in the middle of having to face the realization of our darkest fears.

how quickly i forget these moments when the storms pass. when the fullness of life crowds my view again and somehow i put my trust in the temporal and physical that breaks so easily and leaves me wanting over and over.

but those moments come again. those tastes of the goodness and sweetness and the glory of God are so constant as they slip in and out of our awareness. they are so real that when they are seen they cause this life and the troubles in it to seem dim.
____

life seemed a little bit dim as i sat in the empty hospital room waiting for the bed to roll in holding my husband. as i thought of my babies safe in their beds and missed their smells and sounds and smiles, it was as if the spiritual and the physical found themselves at an intersect and i understood.

that when this life seems dim, it's at it's brightest. there is hope in the darkest crevices of fear of loss and pain in this life. because of the hope we have in christ and the promises of a faithful father to see us through this fleeting time here together and uphold us until we are with him in glory.

this life of ours is thin and dim.
this life of ours is sweet and precious.

last night i remembered that the more i hold this life in the perspective of eternity, the dimness replaces fear with gratitude and joy. and as i look forward, afraid of losing babies and losing cherished ones and pain and brokeness, i can look back on lost babies and lost cherished ones and pain and brokenness and see the grace of God sustaining us. and taste the sweetness of the surety of my faith realized in the darkest of times.

tonight as i sit in this darkened hospital room and think about the future and the uncertainty of it all i can remember. that it will be okay, and when the storms come, the grace will be there, too. and i can remember that this life of mine is thin and dim and sweet and precious.

and i want to savor every moment of it, before it slips away.

love.

scenes from the (independence day) weekend.

this weekend was made of new memories. the weather was glorious and we were spoiled with having nick home for three whole days. i feel like, in a lot of ways, it was a glimpse of the start of a whole new season for us. a season of (relatively) good health and sweet littles and love and life and joy. we explored downtown, ate good food, laughed with good friends, stayed up late, and thoroughly enjoyed each other. god is so kind.

for now, here are just a few (very high-quality if i might add) photos from our first family fireworks.

the kids had a blast. we love this city.

till next time (and that will be soon, i promise).

love.

around here, lately.

we celebrated our sweet boy who turned four with a chick-fil-a lunch date and a few small celebrations with friends and family. it was pretty low-key this year since life has been so buys, but it was filled with cars and planes and one very happy boy.

this boy of ours. he is so tall and filled to the brim with life. he can barely express all the emotion that  spill out of him at times and is so compassionate and sincere it makes us so proud. we are so thankful for him.

we've also been able to steal away for a few pool days and the kids love it. we all do.

also? this girl's got style all her own. ♥

love.

he would have been ninety.

the death of a loved one is an amputation.

- c.s. lewis, a grief observed

how it is that time passes and somehow the years grow longer on the side of loss, than life?

i've learned that someone can be gone longer than the entire breadth of your time with them and yet there are moments when the weight of their hand still weighs heavy, imprinted, on your shoulder.

and in the middle of happy moments the ache of a memory surprises you freshly and brings you to tears as if it was just the other day, long after you thought you had accepted it. 

---

seventeen years is longer than fourteen, yet still i cling to the few remnants of his voice and the visions of him that i can remember. 

of the daffodils he cut fresh for my every birthday.

of his dancing with moves reminiscent of tevya's to ballads like "beat it" at christmas parties and his dark blue trousers powdered with the sandy dirt from working in the garden. my secret garden. 

of his stirring the pot of hot cereal every morning with the wooden spoon softly patting the sides and his sitting down and scooting his chair across the wood floor with a soft scrape to help me with my homework every afternoon. 

of his shoulders that seemed so broad and his arms that would wrap me up and keep me safe and hugs that would calm the roughest storms inside. 

of his encouraging me to try even when I didn't have to and to be better than i thought i could be and his telling me of how he knew i could be. 

of the man that didn't have to love me as his own, but did. 

of a wet carnation hitting the coffin with a gentle slap as it lowered into the ground on that stormy day that broke me.

my heart will hurt no matter how long the years grow on this side of life without him. there are still so many times i replay the last days and wish for a different ending. for more time and more words and more hugs.

but the truth is, the time that we did have was a blessing and that the life lived together is worth the loss, even in the darkest moments of grief when it doesn't feel worth the ache. because the man i called grampa was one of the most important men i will ever know, and i will forever consider it an honor to be part of his legacy. 

and, really, it's a privilege that i am able to mourn him so.

because even though he was flawed, he loved me well. and when i think of how God loves his children, i remember him. 

thanks for everything, grampa. 

love. 

scenes from the (memorial day) weekend.

our weekend was filled with a nasty virus, missed events, a semi-traumatic haircut, and an overtime-working husband. but even still, we managed to have some pretty great times together. times that were pleasant and rich and just so, so good.

seriously, living life with these nuggets keeps getting better.

love.