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.

Stories || Friday Magnify

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

I sat in my comfy chair early one morning, sipping coffee and reading through Judges while waiting or the sun to come up. Outside was dreary, yet I felt the day had so much potential. One kiddo was awake, rolling around in his bed. The baby started stretching and cooing in his crib, and the other two kiddos were still fast asleep. Soon the quiet would become loud with laughter and pattering of feet.

I took a break from writing, for about a year - the days were simply too full. Too tiring, too emotional (and misplaced emotions - or, unchecked emotions - don’t make for good blog posts). I focused on homeschooling and therapy, healing from losing a little human and growing another precious one. Constantly learning all that I could to stay ahead of each child and make sure his needs were being met. It is a marathon, this role of parenting.

Some days, like this one, I wake up and realize that wow! Here we are. All the plodding has amounted to something. I also realize that there are foot- and handprints to clean on the hallway wall, close to the ceiling, from boys who were not interested in bedtime. I realize that I have a pyrotechnic who just proved he can use a lighter well. I realize that at any given moment my sink may not give me water when I need it, because one son enjoys randomly shutting the valves off. I realize that therapy may turn into a dance party and everyone will come unhinged, even the baby.

And I realize that all of these moments come together to make up a pretty good life. God writes the best stories, doesn’t He?

It Is Well

He got the news from his wife, “saved alone…” Their four daughters had drowned, pulled out of their mother’s arms by the strong current. Only she had survived. Not long before, the couple had lost their only son. All of their children, gone in the blink of an eye.

As he traveled to meet up with his wife, he passed the place where his daughters had lost their lives. Grieving, he tucked himself away and began to write.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

It is well with my soul,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!—
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!

And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

Horatio Spafford wrote this poem in the late 1800s, and it was turned into a song that is still sung today. Amy Carmichael once said, “a cup brimful of sweetness cannot spill even one drop of bitter water, no matter how suddenly jarred.” Surely Spafford was suddenly, intensely jarred - and sweet water was spilled.

If you are jarred, dear Christian, what will you spill? When the waves of life jostle you to spill a drop, or many drops - will the water be bitter or sweet?

If it be bitter, take heart. Repent and be comforted by His forgiveness. It is hard to imagine spilling sweet water after devastating loss, such as Spafford experienced. Sweet water from the depths of our beings must come from complete satisfaction and trust in our Lord. It cannot be manufactured on our own; there will be trials far beyond what we can muster strength and grace for.

Has He saved you? Taken your sins and nailed them to the cross, that you bear them no more? If He can conquer this feat, He is trustworthy for all the rest.

He who made the stars, does He not know the hairs on our heads? He who tells the wind to blow, the sun to shine - does He not see our frames and know our trials before they arrive? “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28). Rest in Him.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

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.