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Purpose
I like to be happy. I don’t like tears. Or trouble. Or heartache. Or sin. Or putting away laundry. I don’t care for difficult circumstances. Hardship. Strain. Damaged relationships. Dirty houses. Dust. I like peace. Tidiness. Sleeping in. Harmony. Recently at my Bible study our group was talking about the sin of unthankfulness. And how we can be so ungrateful for what we have, for what we have been spared. For where we were born. For grace. All of it. Which started a side conversation about being thankful in all circumstances. Seeing the good that God can work from the bad. Embracing the situation for the shaping powers it possesses,…
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The Reasons
Reasons We Love Our New iMac (not listed in order of importance) There are no wires. No wires. No wire from the keyboard to the screen. No wires. No wire from the mouse to the computer. No wires. Do you know what I think? I think wires are ugly. And I think no wires is pretty. There is no tower. No tower. No dust-collecting, unattractive, buzzing tower. It can sit in our living room. Because there are no wires and there is no tower, the iMac can sit in our living room on a small table. This means our family computer is no longer in a slightly hidden location.…
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It’s True
Does this photo let you know how we spent some of our tax return this year?
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Raising Bergen Can Be So Sweet
What I like about raising my boy Bergen . . . Seeing him walk out of the grocery store holding a bright bouquet of flowers. That wildy enthusiastic four-year-old approaching me with his fist outstretched. “These are for you, Mommy.” Listening to Kevin explain how the idea of purchasing the flowers was completely Hawkeye’s own. And that his little grubby boy hands carried the cellophane wrapped, brightly dyed flowers throughout the entire grocery trip. And all the random times that this little guy just slides up beside me, reaches for my hand and says, “You look pretty today Mommy.” How at night, after I tuck Berg into bed and am leaving his room,…
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All Over Their Faces
When Bergen’s feelings get hurt, everyone with eyes knows it. His body crumples. He usually slides to the floor. When Finn hears the word “no” when she wants to hear the word “yes” she turns her entire tiny body in the exact opposite direction. She kicks her four-inch feet against the floor and pads right out of your presence. If Mosely isn’t getting her way her arms are instantly crossed. Her lower lip is extended and her eyebrows are knit together, cartoon-style. None of these kids have to speak a word to communicate what they are feeling. (Sadness. Frustration. Anger.) I don’t even have to be a very observant mother…
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I Guess That Makes Sense
It’s winter – right? And we live pretty far from the coast. So why was our yard full of sea shells this week? I can only think of one answer. Magnus.
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the post about bees
Bees are divine. I mean – lots of things are. Right? gravity. love. music. banana pudding. molecules. But I’m talking about bees. (I told you I would eventually talk about this.) For Kevin’s recent-ish birthday I gave him The Gift That Keeps On Giving. Twenty-thousand bees. (Give or take a few hundred.) He’s talked about wanting to raise bees for years. Well, actually, he’s talked about wanting to walk amongst swarms of bees without any protection and take the stings like a man. Like a foolish man. Like a foolish, unprotected man. Like a foolish, unprotected man placing himself directly in harm’s way. So I did what any loving wife…
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Wilder
This fella can eat Cheerios now. Fed to himself. With his own tiny fingers. And he wears sweater vests too.
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You Made It!
Hooray! Now if you will only stick around. Really – it’s the same. Only with a new name. Because I think it just fits me better. And my sweet, far more technologically advanced husband, helped me claim it for my own. And a very cool new banner – thank you Emma! (Internet cafe time was not in vain.) And maybe a new gadget or two. Like twitter. I know. I know. Just some of the bazillions of my own words that I have been forced to eat in my life. (My sincere apologies Tyler for giving you such a difficult time. Now will you follow me?) So. Yeah. This is it.…
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Letter Three (3)
Dearest Sir Will, You are indeed Good, my friend. Today my son is dressed in a dashing ensemble, constructed entirely by items purchased at your low cost store. Yes. I always launder my purchases before allowing them to adorn my precious offspring’s bodies. But I am okay with that. Why would I pay $42 for a pair of size 6 Gap Chinos at the mall when I can acquire the exact same pair for a mere pittance of $3.00 at your casual storefront? I do wish your clothing was sorted more effectively but if it takes me thirty minutes to unearth five pairs of size 5 pants, I’ll spend that…
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Piper Finnian Willow Lacey Keigley: The Interview
Why do you think Mommy and Daddy chose your name?: Because you like nice babies. What do you dream about at night?: I dream lions and elephants and monkeys and they carry me away. I was floating away and they say, “Hello Baby.” Tell me about your brothers and sisters: I hit my brothers and sisters. Hitting is a different word. Oh. That’s not kind. What should you do instead?: Say sorry to them. Be kind to them. What do you like to eat?: Bubblegum. Uh … food. Food is different word. How can we fix the current economic crisis?: Uh. My marbles. With marbles. What is your favorite toy?:…
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Next Up
And then it was my turn. To be sick, that is. I will spare you the gory details. But let me just throw a few adjectives your way. Early. Violent. Aggressive. Wretched. Debilitating.
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Rainy Day, Inside and Out
What a gray day. Sleep-deprived from the instant I heard the alarm. (Derek Webb’s “Mockingbird” is a lot less lovely at 6:30 a.m.) Kevin wasn’t feeling well. The rain was steady and the clouds blocked the sun from showing even a hint of itself. I should have stayed in bed. Or at least stayed home. But the fridge was empty. And had been for two days. No, I don’t just mean that we were out of milk – which we were. I mean – we needed groceries. As in, I saw Riley packing her lunch last night and she was cutting open some old MREs from my brother the Marine…
