Severe Mercies

I have come to learn that blessings aren't necessarily what I always thought they were; the things I somehow believed God should grant me because I am His.

Very often, the Lord disguises His blessings as severe mercies. The trials of life that strip me of my resources and remind me that only in Him can I truly live. The agonies that crowd me to the foot of His cross. The healing that comes through pain, struggle and disappointment. Not the blessings I want; but the blessings I need.

The severe mercies of life. Because they are indeed His mercies.

I heard this song for the first time this morning. It is a sweet reminder of what the Lord has been faithfully teaching me over the past few years.

I especially love the last lines:

What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can’t satisfy
And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are your mercies in disguise

It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. Lamentations 3:22

Two in One

Only a Peacemaker would be thoughtful and considerate enough to lose two teeth in the same day. That's just how she is.

Five...

I realize that it is entirely too cliche to begin a blog post with the phrase "where has the time gone?", but that is exactly what I'm asking myself today as my sweet baby boy turns five. FIVE!! To me, there is something so significant about five. It's like saying goodbye to babyhood and hello to boyhood with a single turning of the calendar page.

While he'll always be our little Davy Crockett and still sports his coonskin cap on a regular basis, he now aspires to the likes of Red Ryder. He straps his holster on, dons his cowboy boots and hat, tightens his red bandanna and with a twinkle in his eye, asks "Do I look him, Mom?"

He painstakingly writes pages and pages of words, carefully forming each letter, making sure he has perfectly printed the names of each and every member of his family. He loves memorizing Bible verses and answering questions during family devotions. He is not intimidated by being the youngest of the older pack; he is driven and motivated, desiring to prove he 'can' to himself more than to anyone else.

This little-big boy who began life so precariously is a daily reminder of the hugeness of God and the days He numbers.

This past week, we celebrated his 'last fours': the last time he would go to church as a four year old, his last bike ride as a four year old, his last bowl of cereal as a four year old, the last time I would kiss him goodnight as a four year old, and on and on. Though he was excited by the showering of attention, I'm quite certain the significance was lost on him.

He was looking ahead to five, while I wanted to stay in the land of four forever.

The land where matchbox cars are lined up by the mile, where exuberance and high-pitched squeals seem never ending, where l's and r's still sound like w's when he asks me to tie his shoes 'wee-wee tight', and where he still says 'Mommy, will you hold me?' Oh, I know these events will still occur; I know he won't stop immediately just because he's a day older than he was yesterday. But it's changing. He's changing.

He's growing, maturing, and coming into his own. There are moments when he's doing something inane like standing at the piano pounding at keys, but when I catch his profile, I see him in my mind's eye 10 years down the road: almost a man.

And it makes me want to savor every moment.

It reminds me that rather than telling him it's time to get off my lap so we can get our day started, I should deeply breathe his sweaty little boy morning smell; that when he asks me how to make a 'P' for the twentieth time this week, I should sit down with him while he makes rows and rows of 'Ps'; and that when he tracks in mud with his yellow rain boots, I should take a picture instead of telling him to go back outside. Because someday I'm going to wish it all back. And I have a feeling that some day isn't very far away.

Happy Birthday, Davy Crockett!! We are so blessed by the gift of you!!

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you... Jeremiah 1:5

A Week In Pictures

Sometimes pictures are worth a thousand words (although I'm pretty good at coming up with 1000 words...just ask my husband!!)

Ode to My Life...

If You Give a Mom a Muffin

Written by Kathy Fictorie
Based on If You Give a Moose a Cookie by Laura Numeroff

If you give a mom a muffin,

She'll want a cup of coffee to go with it.

So she'll pour herself some.

The coffee will get spilled by her three year old.

She'll wipe it up.

Wiping the floor, she will find some dirty socks.

She'll remember she has to do some laundry.

When she puts the laundry in the washer,

She'll trip over some snow boots and bump into the freezer.

Bumping into the freezer will remind her she has to plan supper for tonight.

She will get out a pound of hamburger.

She'll look for her cookbook. (101 Things To Make With a Pound of

Hamburger.)

The cookbook is sitting under a pile of mail.

She will see the phone bill which is due tomorrow.

She will look for the checkbook.

The checkbook is in her purse that is being dumped out by her two year old.

She'll smell something funny.

She'll change the two year old.

While she is changing the two year old the phone will ring. (Of course!)

Her five year old will answer it and hang up.

She remembers that she wants to phone a friend to come over for coffee on Friday.

Thinking of coffee will remind her that she was going to have a cup.

She will pour herself some.

And chances are,

If she has a cup of coffee,

Her kids will have eaten the muffin that went with it.

A New Model

We have a sad, sick baby at our house...
Unfortunately, our sad, sick baby doesn't like baths, in fact she loathes them. I'm pretty sure the whole neighborhood knows when Spider-Girl is taking a bath because the rafters of our house rattle with her screams of terror and anguish. Needless to say, baths are not at all soothing and mostly counterproductive, even in illness.

Yesterday, I was attempting to feed our sad, sick baby some watermelon chunks. I mortgaged the house and bought it out of season for my sweet girl (sweet being relative amidst the sad and sick), thinking it would brighten her day and keep her hydrated. Instead of loving it, however, she threw her head back in agony, clamped her teeth shut and wriggled as far to the corner of her high chair as possible. She wanted nothing to do with it. Seriously, what child doesn't like watermelon?!

Tongue-in-cheek, I implored her, "You don't like baths, you don't like watermelon. That is so un-Somma. Did we bring the wrong baby home from the hospital?!"

Her four-year-old brother and three-year-old sister were observing the scene:

Davy Crockett piped up: "Hooray!! Maybe we can get a new baby!!"

To which Giggles replied: "Yeah, one that doesn't CRY!!"

Their summations came a little too quickly and sounded a little too rehearsed.

Poor sad, sick baby.

Until We Meet Again...

We're just home from a glorious 10 days in Florida with Mr. Right's family. It was long overdue and went by entirely too fast. In fact, there are several in this house who would hop back on the plane tomorrow if it were really an option...

Here is my hands-down favorite picture...
Living in Florida, New Jersey and Washington State, they hadn't all been together since November of 2006 (the bottom three hadn't even made their appearance at that point!!). Heart-warmingly, it seemed like yesterday as they picked up right where they'd left off. Fifteen years to 7 months, the cousin-love was AMAZING!!

I think this pic is pretty swell too; it's worth a thousand words...A full day at Disney and all this girl wanted was a balloon. Her uncle indulged her as we left the park and you'd have thought he'd lassoed the moon...

I wish the U.S. didn't have four corners. I wish there was no such thing as opposites like northwest and southeast and northeast. And I wish there was some way to shrink the distance...