fill me up

Days like today I know I just can’t.  Can’t possibly have enough energy, can’t possibly have enough time.  Can’t get it all done.  Can’t have the patience.  Can’t do, can’t be. Last night was a long night and I woke up knowing this.  Deep in my bones.  And sometimes it’s the best thing — to know from the beginning, flat out, without the practice of trying to make it on my own.  I can’t.

So I call out – first thing.  As I’m nursing the littlest while we break in the day together I ask to be filled.  Dear Lord, it has to be you today.  I’m laying myself out, putting it before you Lord.  The grunge, the grime.  This weakness can be ugly.  But you, Lord, are beautiful, and make all this ugly into something majestic.  I’m so tired, so spent.  So utterly exhausted.  But He is enough.  He provides just what I need.

Today it was good friends to come into my home and bake with me.  The kids joined in and made a sloppy mess of my kitchen.  On my own, I would have been frustrated with the project.  I would not have had enough energy to even attempt this.  But instead, the Lord blessed us.  He redeemed this time.  And we have yummy treats to enjoy together, and the house smells delicious.  The kids played the morning away, and we are reaping the benefits, now having our deserved down time.

I need to be mindful of the Lord’s provision — always.  I just need to look for it.  He wants to bless me, bless us — if I’ll only let Him.

update:

ooooo — I need to post-script. I realize this may sound a bit like “look what God does for ME” but more what I mean is how in my asking for help, from God, from friends, I am able to humble myself, and through this God does a good work IN me, and then THROUGH me, to affect those around me. Instead of snapping and yelling at my little ones, I can rely on His Spirit to spill out of my crevices. Thus, resulting in more patience, more energy, etc. Does this make more sense?

ugh. just working it out through writing it out. and in my scrambled mind are scrambled thoughts. yikes.

hopeful: sunday dreaming

I’m finishing my cup of coffee and listening to the dulled noises of the young boy upstairs playing, even though he is supposed to be napping.  Warmth is filling our kitchen and I’m dreaming and planning.  The sun is brilliant today and it has energized my spirit.  I’m full of hope.

Hope that these new recipes will make a debut on our family table this week:

::  Oatmeal Bread ::

::  Roasted Acorn Squash with Walnuts and Cranberries ::

:: Cider-Roasted Pork Loin ::

:: Cherry-Pistachio Chocolate Bark ::

 

Hope for the spring that is to come. We spent the morning playing outside, and while there is much clean-up  to do after the winter storms, I’m up for the challenge.  The promise of spring mud is just around the corner and I have two small helpers whom I know are eager to get their hands into the good brown earth.  Last year we grew a shared garden with dear friends, full of veggies and color.  What will that look like this year?  Plant more of this, sure, and less of that.  Also, we’ll add that piece of fence, and plant another forsythia.  And THIS year we’ll bring down the sun porch.  And I’m desperate to add color to the front garden.  Flowers, beautiful flowers.  Hope grows deep here.

There are always projects — inside and out.  I’m thankful for the blessing and challenge of them, and the possibility of dreams made life.

keeping it interesting

I’m so tired today.  It’s been weeks of broken sleep in our house.  We’ve been battling colds, teeth, stretched routines, and worried (and imaginative!) thoughts about wind and rain.  The weather today (here: gray, very rainy, yet surprisingly warm) is encouraging my need for rest.  Thus, I leave you with a few articles that I’ve read lately that I’ve come back to for one reason or another.

Delivering my son: ‘Breath, baby, breathe!’ ::  crazy, beautiful story of a father’s experience with his son’s birth.  I’m a sucker for birth stories, and this is as good as it gets.

Women are more likely than men to give up sleep ::  just so right where I am.  And, also, one of those “duh” pieces (but somehow validates me, right?)  This is not to say that my husband doesn’t do his fair share of nighttime parenting — he does, and can often be better at it than I — but.  But.  Sleep is just so different for him.

What’s Wrong With Cinderella? ::  ugh.  This just made me say “yes!” so many times.  But also had me thinking in circles.  It’s so hard to be female in our world, isn’t it?  And just ’cause we’re the next in line doesn’t always mean we’ve made a ton of progress, or even learned that much.  I don’t have any answers, or a party line to tout, but just loved that this was good thinking material.

I’m determined to prove that though I may be a sleep deprived mom, motherhood has made me MORE interesting, not less.

Have you come across anything thought-provoking (or fun!) lately?  What else should I be reading?

inhale, exhale

Breathe.  Inhale, exhale. I began 2011 with a word – an intention, focus – for myself.  Breathe.  The challenge of this has begun to keep me grounded and allowed me to ride some of the waves of this winter.  How is it that something so basic, so necessarily tied to our existence, becomes so complex?  Clearly, it’s not just the activity of breathing that has challenged me to grow.  It’s the pause.  The attention I bring to my body.  There are many  moments in my day when the I feel the ground shift under me, things slipping from my control.  Motherhood does that. (Life does that). Everyone is hungry all at the same time and the food isn’t quite ready yet.  The littlest wants to be held; the eldest wants to help.  There is a physical manifestation in my body of this chaos – my heart beats a bit faster as I grab a toddler in my arms and pick up the pace in the kitchen.  The tension can be heard in my tone of voice: “no, you can’t help right now.”

And then I remember.  Breathe.  Inhale, exhale. We are not in a hurry.  I have everything I need right here – in front of me, within me.  We can all learn from a bit of patience, a touch of kindness, and a calm sense of everything being taken care of.  I’m grounded in my breath.  And I’m released in His.

The eldest places forks and napkins on the table; the littlest hums along with me as I sing .  We divide our portions, sit with our drinks.  Grace.  Hungry bellies fed.

The rhythm and effortlessness of my breath are good teachers. This is the year where I let myself learn.

What about you?  What are you learning in 2011?  Do you have a word or focus?

blowing in God’s grace

My mother always said that some days are better than others.  I’m often thankful that my standing in God’s grip of grace doesn’t depend on how I’m feeling about myself, my family, my accomplishments, or the cleanliness of my house.  God knows better than that — and I can rest in the beauty that He created me dependent on His wind:  His Spirit to contain me, sustain me, move me.  I can blow like a weed, rooted in His love and perfect plan for me, as long as I keep my face turned up towards His sunshine.  It’s how He’ll turn my weeds into something for His glory.  For God, all days are the same.