Wednesday, July 20, 2016


It’s 10:30 in the morning and I find myself sitting down to a cup of cold coffee in my sweats.  It was brewed 2 hours ago, but was set aside.  I actually did get dressed this morning, but quickly decided sweats were more in order for the morning temperatures in our house and I changed. 

(Not actually my kitchen, but pretty close)

The dirty dishes from last night stare at me from the kitchen and judgement pours out of their stare, trying to swallow me in guilt as if to say, “How can you even think of sitting down to your coffee when we’re still here?  You’re a terrible housekeeper.”

Let me back up.

It’s 1 in the morning and the man child is awake again.  I can hear him scooting his bassinet around, now its hitting the door of the closet.  I know he doesn’t feel well by his fever and runny nose.  He didn’t nurse very well yesterday, so I go to him, pick him up, change his diaper and feed him. 

it’s 1:30 in the morning and I’m crawling back in bed.  Somehow waking in the night makes my head pound all the more, and my throat rage.   I snuggle into Josh and feel the heat of his fever radiating off of his back.  I begin to pray.  

It’s 1:45 in the morning and I’m up again, laying hands on the man child in prayer. I go between my husband and my son, interceding with the Father. “Heal them! Strengthen their bodies.  Remove any illness and injury.  Strengthen the tendons and fibers and muscles and joints.  You are a good father, a powerful God, the healer of those who have faith to ask.  You delight to give good things to your children, and these are your sons!  Be glorified through the work you do in their bodies.”

It’s 3 in the morning and again I hear the squeak of the baby’s bed.  It’s really time to upgrade him to a bigger (more stationary) bed.  I get up, cradle him in my arms, listen to his clear breathing, and fall back asleep feeding him.  I wake again with a squirming child at my side.  Knowing he’ll sleep better on his own, I carry him back to his own bed.  

The night passes on and dawn breaks the darkness early in north Idaho.  I vaguely remember two more feedings before it’s actually time to get up around six-thirty.   The man child begins to fuss again and I moan to Josh that I’ve exceeded my maximum ability to get up in the night.  He kindly tucks the baby back in, and shuts both the baby’s door and our own before slipping out of the house to keep an early appointment with a friend. I get to burrow into the comforter and sleep for some sweet moments. 

Now it’s 8am, and it’s a rush to get some breakfast into Josh and some lunch in his lunch box and out the door, since his first client is also at 8. Of course now the baby is awake and won’t be pacified again but must eat now.  As the fires seem to subside, I start some coffee, make a bowl of yogurt, get dressed and get ready to sit down and wrap my head around the day.  

I blink and now it’s 10:30.  Somehow while my eyes were closing and opening again, three diapers were changed, baby was played with and a rough sketch of a shopping list was made. The laundry is finished and put away. I’ve made headway in my quest to track down a source for pasture raised eggs, and researched more healthy menu ideas to get more vegetables into our diet.   I’ve put the power bill in the mail, attempted twice more to feed the baby, (who lately is enthralled with everything but eating during the daytime), and I sit down to my cold cup of coffee.  

You know what, Dishes?  You’re not my top priority.  Yes, I’ll get to you, but I’m not going to set aside caring for my husband or baby for you, and neither am I going to let you negate all of the things I’ve already accomplished.  Because you know what, Dishes?  You’re not that big of a deal. 

It’s 11:10 in the morning, the cold coffee is gone, the baby sleeps and these sweats are getting too warm.  Okay, I guess I’ll go do the dishes now. 

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Lessons from the Little One

I think that God, in all his wisdom, designed things so that babies don’t remember their first year.  The first year is so crucial in brain and muscle development, but it’s also a pretty big deal in mom development.  

I am positive that God designed it this way to give us moms a chance to figure out how to be moms without our babies being able to hold our rookie mistakes against us.  

It sure has been a learning process, and interestingly enough, Tucker has had a better attitude about my shortcomings as a mom than I have.   

There was that one day when I was trying to cram in too many errands between feedings and naps - Tucker woke up in the checkout line of the grocery store and started crying to tell me he was hungry.  By the time I pull into the driveway and park he’s screaming his little head off.  I still had to unload the perishable groceries, the baby and the diaper bag, run to the bathroom, and fix a snack so I didn’t pass out before I could sit down to feed the little guy.  After what seemed like an eternity to both of us, I sat down and latched him on.  He nursed frantically for about 30 seconds and then stopped to look up into my face and smile.   And smile.  And smile. 

Sometimes I wonder if babies actually can remember stuff and they just have a greater capacity for forgiveness than we do.  I can definitely see Tucker remembering a lot of things he’s learned in the 3 months he’s been born.  And I don’t think any of us ever forget some of the essential life skills we learn in our first year, (crawling, eating, drinking, etc). 

It’s no wonder Jesus said that we were to be like little children if we wanted to enter the kingdom of heaven.  The way Tucker forgives so easily and completely.  The way he trusts his parents implicitly.  The way he will calm down when he hears my voice, and will spend hours of the day studying my face, as if there were nothing in the world he would rather do. 

If I forgave the ones I felt wronged by as quickly and completely wouldn’t I walk in freedom and enter the kingdom of heaven right away? 

"For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost." Romans 14:17

If I looked at my heavenly Father with the same awe, adoration and dependency that little children look at their parents with - what a difference that would make in my peace and my joy!