Salt The Walnuts

I looked down at my once-navy shirt, now boasting a white flour band around my middle.

Oh yeah.

I thought back to a couple nights ago as bacon grease popped out of the pan and onto my shirt.

I really ought to use that apron more often.

Violin music floated through the air and I glanced over at one boy who was supposed to be finishing a task. My Procrastinator Professionale. He blinked. I nodded. He grinned.

I wrapped up the pastry dough and stuck it in the freezer. Hopefully I’d remember to take it out before it was too frozen for dinner.

There was a section of Brambly Hedge the other day that especially tickled me -

‘Look, my dear,’ said Mr Apple, ‘if the sea mice can manage to get the salt all the way up to us, I’m sure Dusty can sail downstream to fetch it.’
‘I can’t think of why we’ve run out,’ said Mrs Apple. ‘It’s never happened before. Perhaps I shouldn’t have salted all those walnuts.’
‘Stop worrying,’ said Mr Apple. ‘Look, they’re about to leave.’
(The Complete Brambly Hedge, pg. 193)

You don’t to have read the whole story to get the point here, though it might help to know that Brambly Hedge takes place in the world of rodents and some needed to sail downstream to Purslane and Thrift Saltapple to acquire more salt for their baking endeavors.

But how can the salt have run out? The walnuts, surely those darn walnuts. Shouldn’t have salted them.

Where did those rolls of tape go? Walls. Beds. Cardboard boxes. I should’ve known better.

How can there be no clean laundry? Simply, people kept wearing clothing. And I have not added any more to the washing machine.

How can this child’s shoes be too small? Well, dear me, he grew while I wasn’t looking.

These mice are so relatable.

Where no oxen are, the trough is clean;
But much increase comes by the strength of an ox.
Proverbs 14:4

It turns out that children are messy, keeping a home is hard work, and sometimes, to everyone’s shock and horror, things escape a mom’s mind. The trough could be clean though, think of it – cabinets with no fingerprints, walls with no dents, books with no missing pages. Imagine a day.

Yet those fingerprints came from nosy little babies and toddlers. The wall dent (which one?)? A child’s head, naturally. The books missing pages are often ones that have been read and re-read. Life without these memories would be sterile and void. We’ve all been made better by each season and situation. These little people will grow up to add to the Lord’s world in their own ways. What great increase!

Go ahead, make the effort. Do the things. Salt the walnuts. And don’t forget to pull the dough out of the freezer for dinner.

I Get To

The gingerbread frosting ran down the roof and the candies slid down with it, a clearish-white smudge of sugar that should’ve been much thicker and fluffier.

“Well, I guess that’s how it’s going to be today,” shrugged my 8-year-old.

I smiled. He didn’t know that I had been bemoaning my lot in life the day before. Who knew what the day would hold, and I didn’t really feel like facing it. Maybe a child would be up too early or too late, maybe we’d run out of coffee, an appliance might break, something might spill all over the school books - and hopefully not all of these at once, but hey, some days are just like that. I forced myself to change perspectives.

I have to became I get to.

I get to wash dishes again and enjoy a clean kitchen and full bellies.

I get to do laundry and teach my kids how to do it as well.

I get to be the one they come crying to, to help them solve problems and sort out emotions.

I get to create and add magic to the Christmas season, with traditions and decorations and foods. Some they will love, and some they will not - and we will wind up with some pretty great routines in the end.

I get to watch the wonder in their eyes and their excitement as they learn, even if we don’t get to all the material I’d planned.

I get to work to make a clean, inviting home that we can invite others into, knowing we all will have to clean it again when friends leave.

I get to sit and read story after story, expanding their imaginations and throwing hooks into the past for them to hold onto.

I get to learn how to joyfully accept what comes, and flex with the day and my children.

I get to is far more helpful and edifying than I have to.

And someday, I’ll get to drink my coffee while it’s hot too. But lukewarm is how it’ll be today.

If you need a fun, quick idea - make yourself some whipped cream, spread it in a pan, toss on some sprinkles and freeze it. Cut into shapes and store in the freezer. Plop a couple into coffee or hot chocolate.

Pizza Night || Friday Magnify

“Oh, magnify the Lord with me,
and let us exalt his name together!”
Psalm 34:3

Just like that, it’s Friday again. Another Friday, another pizza night. Chopping peppers and shredding cheese, rolling out dough and spreading sauce - mundane yet a little miraculous.

Somehow, the food that takes hours to make gets swallowed in minutes and we watch. We watch little people get taller, muscles grow stronger.

Somehow, the conversations that happen in those short minutes help build their foundations and frameworks. Their questions deepen, their observations broaden.

Suddenly, the tasks that can seem almost insultingly simple and repetitive appear nourishing in more ways than one. When did they learn this or that, or arrive at that specific conclusion?

We plod along, meal after meal, knowing it all leads somewhere and enjoying the ride. What a gift to be involved in God’s work of feeding bodies and souls.

This Is My Home, These Are My People

This is my home, these are my people.

This is the staircase with an extra stair and loose post, treads worn from traffic.

These are the floors that are daily walked on by feet of all sizes, leaving prints of mud or water or tiny sock fuzz.

This is the living room, where friends gather and forts are made and plants are watered. The sun shines bright on little faces watching trucks and cars, people and dogs. There are waves to neighbors and excited peeks to see if Daddy is home.

These are the books we read and re-read, shelf upon shelf upon shelf. We gather ideas, connect thoughts, giggle and share funny faces. These are the stories we tuck away, the people we learn from.

This is the kitchen, the heart of our home. This is where owies are mended, emotions are dealt with, bellies are filled. This is where lessons are taught and handwriting practiced, where more books are read and recipes learned. This is where herbs are potted, and remedies are made and administered. This is where gifts are made for friends and strangers, where conversations of every kind are had and countless prayers are said. This is where God provides and multiplies.

These are my children, who love life and learning. These are the ones who fill our home with laughter and creativity, who leave PVC pipe mazes in odd places and who tuck in their stuffed animals at quiet time. These are the ones God knit together, giving me the gift of motherhood. The ones He uses to sanctify me and make me more like Himself. These are the ones I in turn am able to teach and train in His ways.

This is my husband, the driving force of our home. This is the man who seeks the Lord and His will, who sets the course for our family and whom we happily follow. This is the man who is constantly learning and sharing what he learns, the one who teaches and listens and guides. This is the man who shares in our joys, dries our tears and makes us laugh. This is my husband, who shows me and our children more about Christ. This man makes our lives so rich.

These are the days that begin early, when the Lord graciously pries open my eyelids to teach me His ways. These are the mornings coffee is made while it’s dark and Scripture is read before little ones awake. These are the mornings God shows Himself mighty.

These are the days of sanctification, of roots going down deep. These are the days the Lord teaches and instructs, convicts and forgives. The days He fills with joy and peace and satisfaction. These are the best days, the days He has given us.

There are many rooms to this house, for nourishing, serving, growing and praising. These are the places and the faces He has surrounded me with. The gifts He has sweetly given. This is my home, and these are my people.