Happy Birthday Mary Beth!

There are moments I remember as clearly as if they were yesterday. I remember Dr. John, doppler in hand, grinning as if he were going to burst. "You've got a butterfly this time, young lady. No doubt about it; it's a little girl." And I remember going home with that sonogram picture and waiting endlessly for Daddy to come home so I could show him. He looked and he looked, while your brothers waited expectantly. 

"It's a friend for Mommy." His words caught me by surprise. Of course that baby wasn't a friend; it was my daughter. My first daughter. For a long time, my only daughter. In our house, we were parents and they were children. I didn't really think of it as "friends." But my oldest was only 7. And he was a boy.

Daddy's words--as they almost always are--were prophetic. You are, most definitely, my friend. Certainly, I'm the mom and you're the girlie. But you are also the dearest friend I have.

Quiet and shy; thoughtful and introspective, you are not a chatterbox, much unlike your sisters. Ever since your first word, they have come quietly and measured. My heart leapt at those first words. I couldn't wait to hear what was on your mind. And my heart still skips a beat now when you invite me into your thoughts.

You are goodness and you are joy. Sweet girl in the middle of five brothers, you are the whole world to your little sisters. It is my dearest hope that they grow up to follow in your very graceful, very grace-filled footsteps. 

And you are the finest friend a girl could ever hope to have. You give your whole heart and you are ever faithful, even when the going is as hard as it gets. 

Daddy said I'd have a friend. With every year, you grow lovelier. With every year you become more and more the finest friend a mother could ever hope to love. 

Happy birthday, my dear child. I hope this year returns to you all the beauty you bring to us.

{top photo credit: Lori Fowlkes. All the rest are snagged from Mary Beth's facebook page.}

Intentional Weekend: Autumn Reading

The air grows colder. The breeze picks up. The season is changing, becoming autumn, with no chance that summer will make a brief return this time. I've seen the seasons change so many times it would be easy to take it for granted, to barely nod to the shifting winds, save to switch capris for flannel-lined jeans. 

But I have children in my life. Boys who are eager to wear the long-sleeved Under Armour and half pants in the goal. Teenagers who sing the praises of Pumpkin Spice Lattes. And little girls who talk excitedly of Christmas coming tomorrow. They tell me to stop and savor the wonder with them. I am grateful, ever so grateful, to watch with them as He ushers in a new season, to notice the gifts of each turning of the calendar page, to revel in the joy of God's abundant bounty.

Weekends are for bar cookies, oozing with goodness. For sipping hot cider in front of the first fire of the season. For gathering the autumn favorites from the picture book shelf and snuggling together beneath the now-necessary quilt.

Autumn: An Alphabet Acrostic

Snowsong Whistling

In November

Christopher's Harvest Time

Apple Cake

Crawdad Creek

Brother Bartholomew and the Apple Grove

Mother Earth and Her Children

Pumpkin Moonshine

Five Minute Friday: Beyond

I see the prompt at Lisa-Jo's and instantly I hear the song in my head, the way Alan used to sing it, years ago, in the gym turned church. Shepherd me O, God, beyond my wants, beyond my fears, from death into life. 

It is 5 AM. I've been awake since 3:45, my mind awhirl. Shepherd me O, God.

Hello, Fear, old companion nearly forgotten; you're back. You're creeping into those half awake moments and forcing me from sleep. Go! Get out of my head! My imagination is no longer your playground. He shepherds me beyond my fears. So, go!

I see Him now, slingshot in hand, whirling it masterfully in the air, sending fear scurrying into the beyond.

Gently you raise me and heal my weary soul,
you lead me by pathways of righteousness and truth,
my spirit shall sing the music of your Name.

Beyond these walls, beyond these beds, beyond these children finally sleeping. In the dark, and the sudden chill, I've called the Shepherd to draw close. Please lead me. I'm following You to a place beyond my wants, beyond my fears, from death into life.

I will dwell in the house of my God forevermore.

Small Steps Together: Patience

It's been ages since I did a Small Steps Together post. I beg your pardon! I decided this morning to begin with today's devotion and just roll with it a bit. I don't have a copy of the book--I've long sold all of mine--so I'm pulling the quote from the manuscript. It very well may be that this quote was edited into another day. If so, I'm going to just assume that God wanted me to think about this one today and go about my merry way.

 

Think: "And when night comes, and you look back over the day and see how fragmentary everything has been, and how much you planned that has gone undone, and all the reasons you have to be embarrassed and ashamed: just take everything exactly as it is, put it in God’s hands and leave it with Him." -- Edith Stein

Pray: Jesus, You fell three times while carrying the cross. Help me see my weaknesses as a call to lean on Your strength and grow ever closer toward You. 

Act: Before you go to bed tonight, write down all of the things you did wrong or failed to accomplish in your day. Pray over your list, asking God to complete you where you fall short. Then crumple up the paper, throw it away, and get a good night's sleep before tackling a new day.

Whew. I've had a lot of nights like this one lately, a lot of fragmentary, embarrassed, and ashamed nights, many, many worried nights, a lot of dreams where all the bumps of the day crowd out peaceful sleep and I awake feeling defeated before I've begun. When I reflect on the plan as it was written in the last few days of August and compare it to where we are today, I am astonished. So much of the landscape has changed in such unexpected, sometimes painful ways! 

I wonder, is this the particular cross of meticulous planners? Do we get nailed more often than those easygoing folks who haven't much of a plan from the beginning? Or, is it a big family thing? In a big family, as children get older, there are so many outside influences on a mother's life. While I can merrily plan away for my own largish brood, I can't really begin to predict how the friends and teachers and coaches and employers in their lives are going to act. Throw in unexpected medical issues. Multiply it out by the number of children in a large household. And there you have it: guaranteed nights of reflection upon fragmentary days. 

But what about the embarrassed and ashamed part? Those are the pieces torn away from the one piece life. If all of life is either sacred or profane, the embarrassed and ashamed parts are where we have greeted the interruptions, the unexpected, the uninvited in a manner that is not sacred. They are the places where we've stumbled under the weight of the cross and instead of accepting the grace of the Savior, we've either tried to throw the cross from our shoulders or we've tried to carry it under our own strength. 

My life is not a seamless garment. I've lived long enough to see that now. I cannot cut from the fabric of my life the patches that are rougher than the others, the colors that are just a little off. No matter how embarrased or ashamed of them I might be, they cannot be ripped from the fabric. But they can be stitched into His masterpiece. I can give them to Him and trust that over time, He will piece together a garment that takes those dark pieces and frames them just so, rendering the finished product beautiful beyond anything I could have imagined.

God intends it to be holy. All of it. What He wants at the end of a fragmented day is for me to see--clearly see--the many fragments and how they are of my own making. And then, He wants me to ask. He wants me to know that He can take the fragments, even the seeming dissonance and He can make a one piece life of my many scraps. It can all be for His good and to His glory. If only I hand Him the pieces.

But what does all this have to do with patience? Everything. At then end of a day that was all ragged fragments, a day where truly the beauty in the design is utterly incomprehensible, I am called to hand the pieces to him and just wait. Trust. And wait. He's got a plan.

~~~

How is He teaching you patience this month? Small Steps focuses on patience this month. Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion, to pray with you for patience. Please leave a comment or link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.

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Teach Yourself Visually Crafting with Kids gives you step-by-step instructions for a variety of fun, simple craft projects to make with kids, from paper and fabric art to traditional craft-stick-and-pipe-cleaner activities—and everything in between. Together, you'll create kid-friendly projects that promote learning through play, celebrate seasons and holidays, add charm and whimsy to indoor and outdoor décor, and so much more. Whether you're looking for a way to beat the rainy-day blues or need some new ideas to get your kids' creative juices flowing, this friendly guide will keep you crafting all year long.

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