Babies

I love my babies. I love watching them grow and mature and become big girls. I love watching Elisa, thoroughly engrossed in Little Women, curled up with tired eyes but too engaged to put the book down and rest. I love holding hands with Raina as we ski along in the moonlight, and watching Sadie careen confidently around the ice skating rink. But babies are special. They are small for such a short time, and I treasure these moments of fragile little-ness with all my heart.  I thought baby #4 would be raised on auto-pilot, but I have to admit there is still so much I have to learn, and my methods are always changing as I figure out what works - and what doesn't. 

We have never had a baby who fit the "angel-baby" prototype. Our babies are amazing and beautiful creatures, but none of them has been easy or mellow or simple.  I have been humbled so often in this journey! 

With Elisa, I really thought mothering would come naturally and it never occurred to me that I should read a book. Wasn't mothering just in the heart of every woman? A God-given and Holy Spirit led ability to nurture and care for the sweet baby of your womb at your breast and in your arms?  But, I remember one day a friend asked, "Are you a schedule feeder or on-demand?" I gave her a blank look. What? That was the first time I really realized there were different ways to parent.  There were options and maybe I needed to be more informed.  So, I read some books. I read Baby-Wise and quickly found that I could not make myself or my baby adhere to such strict guidelines (as a more seasoned mama, I am a strong opponent of much that Baby-Wise espouses -- mostly because they claim their form of structure is the Biblical way to raise a baby, and it isn't. It's teaching that can be helpful, but there is nothing more Biblical about letting your baby cry rather than rocking them!) I read The Baby Whisperer and resonated a bit more with the more gentle routines and training put forth by Tracy Hogg, as well as her message of understanding your babe's unique personality.

But - I couldn't always make my daughter follow the routine. I would cry if her naps were too short, and feel so overwhelmed because I was failing! It sounds ridiculous now, but I really thought I was horrible mother because I couldn't keep the schedule.  And I was S-T-R-E-S-S-E-D.

Three babies later, I have learned. I have realized that the books are helpful, but the nurture and love and caring for my little ones really does come from the Holy Spirit.  I find myself praying over simple decisions and seeking His guidance, rather than fretting because we are off the recommended schedule.  I snuggle my babe as often and as much as I want to, and I enjoy the closeness of holding my wee one.  I nurse my baby girl when she is hungry.  Even if the clock doesn't say that it is time.  I greet her with a smile and a hug - even if her nap was forty-five minutes instead of two hours.  We just go with it.  Yes, I want her to have a predictable routine. But I am a happier mama if allow myself the freedom to love her from the heart and meet her needs with tender flexibility - rather than imposing someone else's expectations on both of us. 

Routine is good. But snuggles and love and kisses and freedom to nurture are better.  At least for this mama and these four "out of the box" little girls!

Grace

Pale moonlight filtered through midnight windows. In that half-light, my eyes, though tired, refused to close.  My brain hummed with steady thoughts – a quiet, repetitive chorus of self-condemnation reminding me of all I had tried to do and had failed so utterly in doing! Silent tears came as I thought about the tasks left undone, the house still upended from a day of breathless, noisy living.  I thought about the schoolwork we had skimmed through, rather than savored.  I thought about behavior I had only outwardly managed, and the hearts I hadn’t had the time or energy to reach.  I thought of the opportunities to love and serve and disciple – and how I missed so many of them.   I had been busy and tired instead of grateful and grace-filled.   And my heart ached at the realization that I am so very far from being who I want to be. 

Over the last few years, I feel like God has been whispering to me over and over of His charis grace. Grace that forgives, grace that enables, grace that transforms.  I have tasted the sweetness of His unending mercy and longed for more of Him.  And yet, in the midnight stillness – I forget.  Even in the light of day, I don’t remember to live and breathe and pray as one who has known the grace of God.  Instead, I fashion rules. And systems. Lists and charts.  I think that if I can only be more organized, more disciplined, then I will be able to somehow do it all perfectly and make Him proud of me.   I forget that apart from His grace, apart from faith in His Son, I cannot please Him.

I want to remember.  I want to be a mama free from guilt, a mama doused in ever-flowing grace from her Papa God.  I need to know – with all of my being – that I am approved by God not because of anything I can do, but because He has accomplished everything I can’t.

What would it look like, I wonder, to live full of grace?  Not as one striving to succeed, but as one resting in the One who already has?

In that stifling darkness of discouragement and desperation, I feel it.  His love.  His great, unthinkable, undeserved, unfettered love for me. And for my little ones.   His grace is enough for us.  His record is ours.  His grace, His kindness, His sovereignty, covers all of our mess. 

And if I believe that – won’t I walk in it?  Won’t His grace also pour out of me onto those sweet ones He’s so graciously given?  And won’t I love more and hold back less and just rest in His faithfulness?  Won’t I take those lists and charts and systems and use them as tools to love and serve, not as methods of control or false security?

I pull the covers up to my cold chin and wiggle my toes deep under winter-warm blankets.  I am so thankful for His grace, covering me. 

Winter Children

 Winter children grin during the first ski of the year.  This was Thanksgiving weekend... no snow at home, so we drove to the top of Togwotee Pass to find some.

.... learn to Nordic ski at age 2.  And she's fast!

....picnic in the snow.

 .....smile when they can't feel their fingers, and throw snow over their faces as magic fairy dust to help them hike faster. (At Taggart Lake trail last weekend.)

 Winter children are sad when snow goes down their mittens.

 ....borrow mom's hat when hers gets shrunk by the dryer.  :)

 Winter babies ride inside of mommy's borrowed coat. 

 ...and sleep through snow adventures with face out of the wind.

 Winter children dress up in Christmas dresses!

 ...ice skate on the barely frozen pond. 

 ....shovel snow with the edges of their skates.

 Winter babies wear pink hats. 

Just My Cup of Tea

I have always loved tea.  I'm not sure when I began drinking tea. Somewhere in my early teens, I started steeping dark leaves in boiling water, adding just the right amount of sugar and milk, and brewing up my own little cup of comfort.  My island of calm.  My moment of quiet serenity. I have had cups of tea before a flickering candle in a Bible school attic with friends.  Cups of tea late at night when exams loomed.   Cups taken in the gray light of dawn in a cozy chair by picture windows overlooking Lake Union in Seattle.  I have had tea in dainty porcelain, tea in sturdy pottery mugs, tea in paper to-go containers, tea in indestructible titanium cups while camping.   I have had tea while wearing a straw hat and talking in pretend British accents with my sisters.    I have sipped many, many cups of tea with an open Bible in front of me and a journal and pen in my hand.  There is just something about tea.  

Funny thing.  I still drink tea.  One cup a day right now (I don't want Hope getting more caffeine than that). First thing in the morning.  PG Tipps blend plopped in a mug, stirred with cream and sugar.   But there isn't really an island of calm these days.  No quiet serenity. No flickering candles or long, peaceful quiet times at dawn.  No dreaming grand dreams while the rich scent rises in wispy plumes and I breathe it deep.

Nope.  I gulp tea while cooking oatmeal.  While nursing a sweet baby.  While jumping up from the table to grab a towel because the milk spilled.  While doing dishes or sweeping the floor. Sometimes the tea gets cold before I can drink it (and did you know you can't reheat tea? It tastes awful.). 

I drink milky decaf from fancy tea cups with my girls, though.  I let them pour.   And when the table grows sticky with spilled sugar and their princess dresses are soaked with milk and my favorite teacup shatters on the floor....  I don't complain.  

Because... this... this chaos and clamor and mess.... this is just my cup of tea. 

First Ski

 We know October snows are short-lived, so made the most of it today - strapping on our nordic gear and skiing in the yard three times! Morning recess, afternoon, and after dinner.  :)  Raina did great her first time out on skis.  She was so excited. 

I was trying to capture the yellow leaves dancing in a gust of wind and skittering across the white ground.  Amazing contrast, and really beautiful! 

Growing...

 Hope Julianna.  What a precious, sweet, amazing baby.  Okay, I know every baby is sweet, and precious and amazing.  But there is something so profoundly amazing about your OWN baby, isn't there? :)  Hope weighed 11 pounds, 9 ounces at her two month check-up, and was 24.25 inches.  She loves mama's massages with sweet-smelling baby cream, she loves to be swaddled and snuggled, she loves kisses and having you rub your nose against hers.  She coos and talks and makes these amazing enchanting, melt-your-heart expressions when you talk to her.  She is easy going, tolerant, and smile-y.  She sleeps between 7-9 hours at her longest stretch, and still naps about 5 times a day - usually about an hour each time, but sometimes longer.   I love waking up once at night to feed her - as long as it is only once! :) - and am not in a hurry to stretch her night sleep any longer.  Funny, how perspective changes the fourth time around. :)   I wanted to post some photos, but, as usual, don't have much time to turn swirling thoughts and insights into the long, wordy prose I want to post here! :)  Someday.  Really. 

 Still sleeps in the bassinet in our room. 

Sweet