Snow day number two. Read. Paint. Shovel. Sled. Repeat. Plus a few hot cocoa fixes.
This painting sharply contrasts the scenery behind it...
We "celebrated" Groundhog Day and watched Punxutawney Phil make his prediction.
[Spoiler alert: Early Spring!]
We remain skeptical as we still have ice and snow from December that we can't get rid of. But in the spirit of learning, we watched the Wild Kratts episode on groundhogs, followed by Peep and his episode on the groundhog, plus painted spring pictures, and we constructed a super-cute craft D put together for his sisters (with measurements and everything!). The kids were thrilled that their dad came home early to build a snow fort with them. We went sledding with friends until we couldn't feel our fingers, and Belle lost a tooth when her daddy threw her in a snow bank. She was very excited. Also, the kids were able to serve neighbors by shoveling. D has struck up a very sweet friendship with our neighbor, Joe. It started with shoveling and has turned into so much more. Today, Joe asked D if he could come run errands with him. D returned beaming and so enjoyed his time with Joe. They went to the bank, stopped at Starbucks and Joe bought D a hot chocolate, picked up a prescription, and then some groceries. Joe even bought Dawson a very nice shovel so that he would have the proper equipment when he shovels the neighborhood. Because we homeschool, D is always available and it has made a path for this relationship to blossom. This is not to say that serving neighbors is dependent upon homeschooling, not at all. For us, we happen to have quite a few retired and elderly neighbors and because we are home during the day, we have been able to build these relationships and serve them in the daytime hours. It's good for my kids and I believe a blessing for our neighbors also. We are so blessed to have the neighbors we do!
P.S. This morning as my husband was shoveling with our kids, using our sub-par shovels, he decided to pray for a shovel...for God to provide a new, high quality shovel to better serve the neighborhood. This may sound strange--we could go to the store to buy one. But for us, the shovels we had were functional. Encouraged in faith by reading God's Smugglerabout Brother Andrew, my husband, in faith prayed for this simple and seemingly insignificant provision. When he arrived home, standing by our front door was a brand new shovel. He had no idea that D had spent the afternoon with Joe and none of us knew that Joe would buy a shovel for D. We knew nothing of his prayer either.
God is active. He cares about the little things. I needed this reminder so very much. And I pray this provision etched Truth onto the hearts of my kids too.
After driving thousands of miles, what is one more detour? We needed dinner and I love art. Cue the GIANT Van Gogh painting in Goodland, Kansas.
ROAD TRIP GEM.
The Christmas lights and miniature looking FedEx truck add the finishing touches. I also smiled at the tractors decked out for the holidays just down the street. I'm not making fun. I love the Kansas and Eastern Colorado plains and spent quite a bit of my childhood relishing in the beauty of rolling wheat fields as far as the eye can see.
My husband turned around so I could capture this picture properly. Do you see a theme with his tolerance of my habit? We understand each other.
Also, this painting (the real one) happens to be the first famous painting I had the opportunity to see in person. I traveled to London as my high school graduation present. We toured the National Gallery and I went searching for my Sunflowers right away. Prints shown in school classrooms cannot do justice to seeing the brush strokes up close. Van Gogh runs a tight race with Monet for my favorite artist. I'm telling you, I love this country we live in!
I admire my six-year-old. Her world never ceases to be vibrant. She runs and walks and swims and talks and sings and creates and dances with abandon. I love it.
We spent time last fall in New York City. In Washington Heights, there is a studio which offers drop-in ballet classes on a donation basis. Such a great program! Belle attended a class with her cousin and loved every second. The pictures my cousin took are a perfect likeness of my girl. She's all in. Every life can be an act of worship, art to a dying world around us. I don't have my daughter's personality, but I can still live with abandon for my Lord. It will look different for me, but I want it to be a masterpiece. I want to believe in the vision and purpose of the master painter. Glob upon glob of paint, layer after layer, seemingly nothing, but ending in the realm of glorious.
I want to praise His name with the art He's given me. Without fear, with patient trust, with a heart full of hope and joy and purpose. And when I do fear and I doubt and I feel discouraged, sad, and insignificant, I want to engage with my Lord with abandon. Our mess is part of the masterpiece too. I look at my daughter's freeze-frame blurried form as she leaps across the dance floor. She's all in. I can feel it and I smile. I hope she lives like that as she grows up. I certainly hope I do too.
“When the will of God crosses the will of man, somebody has to die.” Addison Leitch
Death
is not always physical death. Sacrifice and self-denial comes in many
forms. Letting go of dreams, waiting on dreams, accepting the
circumstances and path set before you, entrusting all that you are, all
that you have, and all that you hope to the hands of the Lord.
I like acorns. I always have. My kids love them too. They collect them as if they were seashells on a beach, each one marvelous and unique and special.
As a college student I was greatly influenced by Elisabeth Elliot's book Passion and Purity. I devoured every book she wrote and have never regretted one minute spent. I loved her thoughts on the acorn:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is a marvelous little
thing, a perfect shape, perfectly designated for its purpose, perfectly
functional. Think of the grand glory of an oak tree. His intention for
us is “… the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ.” Many
deaths must go into our reaching that measure, many letting-goes. When
you look at the oak tree, you don’t feel that the “loss” of the acorn is
a very great loss. The more you perceive God’s purpose in your life, the less terrible will the losses seem.
The lesson of the seed is not fully learned until there is
relinquishment. There is no way around it. The seed does not “know” what
will happen. It only knows what is happening —the falling, the
darkness, the dying.
God’s ultimate plan is as far beyond our imaginings as the oak tree is from the acorn’s imaginings.The
acorn does what it is was made to do, without pestering its Maker with
questions about when and how and why. We who have been given an
intelligence and a will and a whole range of wants that can be set
against the divine Pattern for Good are asked to believe Him.
We are given the chance to trust Him when He says to us, “…If any man
will let himself be lost for my sake, he will find his true self.”
When will we find it?The answer is, Trust Me.
How will we find it? The answer again is, Trust Me.
Why must I let myself be lost? we persist. The answer is, Look at the acorn and trust Me.
-Passion and Purity, Elisabeth Elliot
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Because I love Him will I choose to lay down everything? Do I accept "No" from the Lord? Do I
accept his "Yes?"
Look to the acorn. In our finite mind, we can't imagine any sacrifice creating the grandeur of an oak tree. We lose hope. We lose patience.
I'm so thankful God is who He says He is. And when I sputter and doubt He is there. He knows we cannot see the hope in the acorn, but He knows what He is doing. Something so much more elaborate and majestic and awe-inspiring that I can grasp. We don't have to get it, but we can look to the acorn.
I'm a firm believer that beauty can be found wherever you are. It can be a beautiful vista, beautiful architecture, or a beautiful moment. It's easier to be a glass-half-empty sort, and I definitely have my share of pessimism, but looking for the beauty in the world around me balances me, keeps my eyes out and around and up from myself. I do love the natural, the majestic, but I also love urban art. We, being made in the image of God to display His splendor, have been given art, displayed in many different ways to the world. Here are a few of my favorites...
I love the actual photograph of this, taken in Times Square when the news announcing the end of World War II poured over the country--the joyous, euphoric jubilation that I can only imagine not having lived in that time. Walking along the Chelsea Highline, this psychedelic re-creation made my heart smile.
On the boundary/intersection where Chinatown becomes Little Italy
This FDNY Ladder lost six men on 9/11...never forget
The Brooklyn Bridge arched over the Empire State Building
The sweetest urban art of all, NYC playground art and I'm not just talking about the chalk drawings...
I want my kids to love how God created them. They are beautiful, unique, and created in His image. When my girls draw pictures of themselves, I don't want them to have to use plain brown, black, yellow or pink to try and depict the beautiful pigment that they have. I LOVE THESE. I love the many varying shades and tints of browns.
beige golden beige terra cotta tawny sienna mahogany tan bronze
I had my kids find their skin color, bronze, mahogany, and beige (or caramel, chocolate, and vanilla as they usually say...)
my girl happily building a snowman in the front yard
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, or so the trite saying goes. I'm rarely without a mug in hand or nearby, filled with a choice hot beverage. I may be more attached to having a mug in hand than my phone nearby. I'm not really joking. I have this chalkboard mug, an impulse buy from World Market or as my son calls it "World Trap." A tempting place for those who are drawn to the aesthetically beautiful and the new and interesting and unique, but I digress. I write a word or phrase or verse when I pull this one out of the cupboard. In the last many months, Cece has been steadily increasing her tea and chai habit. I can only blame/congratulate myself. My husband shakes his head in consternation and has not quite recovered from the shock of our two-year-old (also Cece) asking to go to Starbucks, but not knowing the name McDonalds.
Over Christmas while clearing dishes, I saw my chalkboard mug amidst the latest tea party/art project table clutter. It made me smile, it warmed my heart. I so often only see my failings, the bad that I'm passing on, the sin that they see daily. I cannot decide what they take and what they leave from their childhood as they grow up. I cannot control everything. I cannot control them. More than anything, I can entrust them to the Lord, trust His hand in their lives, trust that He can use everything. I can trust that He sees and knows the heart of a sweet 9-year-old, who grabbed a piece of chalk, imitated her mama and felt compelled to write one word that we can all use more of...JOY.
I admit, choosing between the mountains and the beach, I would choose the beach. Why? Not sure, that's just me. But these are my mountains. Removed from the 14er that towered over my childhood home and gifted me with a bedroom window view to covet, I claim these. I lived near Estes Park, CO for one summer in college and it is still and will for always be my favorite mountain town. Rocky Mountain National Park feels like home. That summer, I decided to learn to love the mountains for more than my window view. I didn't want to waste my mountain summer. So I hiked and hiked and hiked. Nearly every day or every other day, I would drive into the park and explore. Long hikes with a friend or friends, short hikes or strolls on my own. And these became my mountains.
Recently my husband and I got to spend a weekend back at the YMCA of the Rockies where we had worked those many summers ago. We drove into the park to Sprague Lake, an easy stroll, but at lower elevation so it wouldn't be buried in snow this time of year. We walked, conversing some, observing much, and I took pictures. It is calming and stress relieving for me. I love photography. And after nearly 14 years of marriage, my husband understands this about me. He'll wait for me, let me fiddle with the dials on my camera, capturing the same shot again and again until I like the artistry. I am amateur, but that's okay with me. It was a nice afternoon.
This lovely portrait was drawn by Cece a year or so ago and captioned by her outspoken and enthusiastic sister, Belle. I love my kids' artwork. All of it. I know I can't keep it all, but some I will not part with and my alternate plan is to photograph them (digital clutter still clears space!). I didn't throw this one away--the special ones are kept and photographed.
I love these kids. They are so different in so many ways. Together, they are a vibrant work of art and best buddies (most of the time). Apart, we see glimpses and splashes of how God has wired each one of them. It's overwhelming and amazing to be tasked the job of being their mommy. (D is eleven and still calls me "mommy." I don't have the heart to tell him that he should be too cool for that at his age. And, I savor it.)
Prince D, Princess Cece, and Princess Belle
Now, for a quick snapshot. Being a visual person who loves imagery, I envision the interworkings of my kids' minds as follows: D: I envision clockwork cogs and gears, always moving, processing, thinking, pondering, developing, planning, creating, building, inventing--an engineer or scientist if I've ever seen one. If he were a Winnie-the-Pooh character he'd probably be Rabbit, although with more kindness and compassion. He's a meticulous worker and organizer, loves school and hands on projects. He loves to help people move, as in home relocation (not joking, his dad is the same), and shovel snow for our neighbors in the fall, winter, and spring. His faithfulness and sweet spirit blesses us. Cece: I envision twirling ribbons like the ones used by rhythmic gymnasts in the Olympics. She has floated and danced through life since she could walk. She may have danced first, natural God-given grace at its finest. She loves beautiful things, fairy tales, the classics (Little Women is her favorite), and creating designs while listening to said stories for hours on end. If she were a Winnie-the-Pooh character she would probably be Piglet who also enjoys bright colors, blowing dandelions, and spending time with friends. Belle: I envision bouncy balls--hundreds of them, all moving and jostling in unison. She takes her role as the youngest very seriously and finds it fabulous to have a princess namesake, "Just call me Princess Belle." She lives with vibrancy, expression, energy and unending wonder of the world around her. If she were a Winnie-the-Pooh character she would be Tigger, who is also a fussy eater and trounces over everyone and everything at one point or another. She's "bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy, fun, fun, fun, fun, fun!" I hope you'll have that song stuck in your head too...she is one of a kind. They're mine and I adore them.
We remain skeptical as we still have ice and snow from December that we can't get rid of. But in the spirit of learning, we watched the Wild Kratts episode on groundhogs, followed by Peep and his episode on the groundhog, plus painted spring pictures, and we constructed a super-cute craft D put together for his sisters (with measurements and everything!).
We remain skeptical as we still have ice and snow from December that we can't get rid of. But in the spirit of learning, we watched the Wild Kratts episode on groundhogs, followed by Peep and his episode on the groundhog, plus painted spring pictures, and we constructed a super-cute craft D put together for his sisters (with measurements and everything!).
Every life can be an act of worship, art to a dying world around us. I don't have my daughter's personality, but I can still live with abandon for my Lord. It will look different for me, but I want it to be a masterpiece. I want to believe in the vision and purpose of the master painter. Glob upon glob of paint, layer after layer, seemingly nothing, but ending in the realm of glorious.
Death
is not always physical death. Sacrifice and self-denial comes in many
forms. Letting go of dreams, waiting on dreams, accepting the
circumstances and path set before you, entrusting all that you are, all
that you have, and all that you hope to the hands of the Lord.
