Inheritance

This has been a summer packed full of visits with family.  Each special visit deserves it's own blog post, and perhaps that is something I will get to later, but the summarization of the visits requires reflection now.

Spending time with family from both sides has been a gift of diversity and unique expression of love. We experienced so many variations of affection and affirmation.  Each one plays differently to the hearts of the members in our little family.  Through all of these interactions I feel like we ended the summer with a rich understanding of the character of God.  The combined reflection of our extended family scrapbooked together an image of our creator that would be less vivid had one been missing.   The summer was beautiful.

Two weeks ago, just after we returned from the Baker family reunion in Atlanta, I took Silas and Holland to attend the Thank Offering Celebration that my Aunt Jules and Uncle Calvin were hosting. They have begun a tradition to have a night of praise and worship and thanks in responsive gratitude for all that God has done in their healing prayer ministry.

Admittedly, I first decided to go out of a desire to honor my Aunt and Uncle.  We had been traveling for nearly 17 hours the day before and not only were the kids wiped out, but the parents were just beat down.  But I had already committed to being there, and I knew that our family had a lot of thanking to do for the way this healing prayer ministry had been healing to us...I felt like I really should go.  Jordan offered to keep Trey and Jewel home with him since they were having the most difficult time recovering from the trip.  So Silas and I took Holland and set out.

It was quiet on the way.  I felt like I should be trying to explain the upcoming evening to him, or prepare his heart in some way, but I didn't quite know how and the silence in the car was welcome after our long day.  I just quietly prayed in my heart that God would give him understanding and appreciation.

When we arrived everyone was in the basement of the church having a huge family dinner.  The event was at the Korean church where both my Aunt Jules and Uncle Cal and my Aunt Shin and Uncle Dan attend and serve.  We were greeted with huge hugs, big smiles, mounding plates of the most delicious Korean food, and serving hands to hold the baby and take the bag and pull out a chair. I was surprised and thrilled to see my cousin Jake and his family had driven down from Seattle to be there, and Joseph and his family had come in support as well.  I was thankful to see Dan and Shin whom I hadn't seen in a long time and also the familiarity of the hugs of Cal and Julie.  I was impressed and delighted to see that their daughter in law, Theresa, had come with her five kids even though her husband wasn't able to make it.  But as we were steered toward a table to sit, my eyes locked with my Pake.  He stood and stretched his arms out to me and grinned his big grin.  I was so glad my arms were baby and bag free, I set down my plate and just took a hold of that hug with everything in me.  I had no idea that he and my Beppe were making the trip for the celebration, and it was just overwhelming me with joy!  He kissed my cheek and squeezed me tight and pulled me back to look at my face.  We both had tears in our eyes.  He pointed to Beppe sitting next to him who was deeply engaged in conversation.  He whispered in my ear, "would you please sit here and interrupt her, this woman is hogging all of her time."  I smiled and sat and was gladly the reason for their conversation to be cut short so that I could hug and kiss my Beppe.

We quickly ate our dinner and at the sound of Tyler's trumpet, we moved upstairs to the sanctuary for the service.  I sat next to Beppe, Pake on her other side and Silas on my other side and Holland on my lap.  We then embarked on the greatest journey of intentional praise that I had ever been on.

Each chair had been equipped with a party favor, noise making party favors.  As we began to sing and worship, Cal and Julie encouraged all of us to make a joyful noise unto the Lord.  A third of the congregation were kids.  They knew exactly how to make a joyful noise and that is just what they did.    With kazoos and whistles and little horns, we sang our hearts out to Jesus.  Silas looked at me a little unsure at first, as if to ask if blowing horns in church is actually OK.  I smiled and nodded and he joined the chorus.  In between the songs, we read scripture about the different ways that God's people thanked him.  We listened to the testimony of several people whom had been under the counsel and direction of God through Cal and Julie's ministry.  We heard diverse stories of Jesus redeeming and healing broken hearts.  We prayed in our hearts, we listened to heart felt prayers and agreed, and we all prayed out loud in the Korean tradition of "Praying Loudly".  Through all of it, Holland bounced away on my legs, reaching over to Beppe for smiles and kisses and sweet caressing.  She craned her neck over to Pake to flash her brightest eyed smile and to start hopping in excitement at his animated response to her.  I held Beppe's hand as we sang at the top of our lungs in worship to Jesus.  I leaned over and whispered the steps of taking communion as Silas watched Uncle Cal and the pastor of the Korean church prepare the table before us.  He took his first communion, a saved child of the Father, right there next to me that evening.

At first I was tempted to keep checking the clock.  The service started at 7, and by 8 I was calculating Silas wouldn't be in bed until close to 9, even if we left right then.  But neither one of us wanted to go.  I stepped out to feed Holland and decided I would stay, in fact I wanted to be the last one to leave.  Where else would I rather be, where else would I rather Silas to be, then right here in the midst of God's presence, surrounded by extended family?

The service was an indescribable intertwining of intentionality and freedom.  On one hand, it was clear that so much prayer, thought, and planning had gone into the song choices, the order of ceremony, the testimonies shared, and the verses read.  And yet, in the midst of that we were not bound to a formula.  We so freely worshiped.  Cal and Jules "led" the order of events, but it was not a program.  All of their grandchildren were there, and if at some time one of them just wanted to be with their grandparents, they would simply run up the center aisle, jump onto a lap or an empty seat, and be welcomed with a smile and a squeeze.  During the quiet times, inevitably one or more of the kids needed to see how their instrument of praise sounded all on it's own...and that was OK.  We all belted out the songs, not at all worried about how we sounded, because we were singing with kazoos, and it made the praise all the more genuine.  We sang the song 10,000 Reasons.  I was closing my eyes and just swaying with Holland in my arms...until we got to the final verse.  I looked over at my grandparents who were immersed in praise, arms lifted and eyes closed, and just wept as we sang,

"And on that day when my strength is failing, the end draws near and my time has come.
  Still my soul will sing your praise unending, 10,000 years and then forevermore."

Three people got up to share testimonies.  Although Calvin and Jules were the vehicle that God chose to bring healing and restoration to these people, they were not the center of the testimony.  They received a glancing mention at best as these rescued hearts gloated the love of their Savior in their lives.  One woman shared about her difficult childhood that led to a life of alcoholism.  After 20 years she had been through AA, and had been sober for a significant amount of time.  But she admitted that although she was no longer drinking, she was still an addict in her heart.  She reported that after meeting with Jules, she realized that AA could not offer her Jesus, and that he was the healer and restorer that she had longed for.  It wasn't all so that she could quit drinking, it was so that she could start to experience Jesus for herself and have the freedom to share her reflection of Jesus with others. Another man got up to share about his life as a pastor.  He did a lot of counseling and had begun to take on the burdens of those he counseled.  He would experience such fear and anxiety over trying to say the right thing to each one.  Then he started to meet with Uncle Cal and experience what it means to be rescued by Jesus.  He cried and laughed as he admitted that he is the counselor that doesn't say anything!  People come, people share, but he simply says "Let's ask God what he wants to tell us about this," and then he marvels at the perfect truth that God gives.  Each one who shared was so filled with amazement and gratitude to Jesus.  Cal and Julie and not given them tools for survival, they had given the understanding of their access to their Savior.

Toward the end, Holland was getting fussy and tired.  I got up to walk in the back of the church with her and Silas came with me.  She nodded off as the service was wrapping up.  Aunt Jules grabbed two of her grandsons and handed them baskets.  The baskets had smooth rocks with a cross engraved on one side.  Silas watched as she instructed them to stand by the door and hold the baskets for everyone to take a rock as their ebenezer.  Jules glimpsed Silas out of the corner of her eye, watching them.  She had another basket, she gave it to him, he stood and handed out the rocks as people exited the doors.  He had a part, a responsibility, a place.

To end the service, Uncle Cal came and escorted Pake and Beppe to the front of the church.  Beppe outstretched her arms and spoke a blessing over the people and Pake prayed.  I stretched out my arms and received it, and wrapped my arms around Silas and Holland, wanting to receive it on their behalf,  and pass it on to them that evening and throughout their lives.  If only there was a way for them to understand the magnitude of the moment.

Hugs and kisses and squeezes and tears as we all started to say goodbye before we left.  I stood between Pake and Beppe as they laid their hands on Holland and thanked us for coming out.  As moms often do, I said "Holland, say 'I love you, Beppe...I love you, Pake,'".  Pake shook his Pake belly with a little choked cry, "oh, she's been saying that all night," and he kissed her head.

Silas and I got into the car and talked ALL the way home.  He loved being able to be in church without having to be so quiet and still, and he loved hearing the Korean pastor "pray loudly" and he could tell he was really meaning what he was saying!  He loved being able to take communion since he has asked Jesus into his heart and to know that his sins are forgiven.  We talked about that night being a little taste of heaven.  Worshipping God is fun!  It was nearly 10:30 when he finally got into bed, but I doubt he went right to sleep.  His heart was just bubbling over, visibly he was feeling spiritually charged.

Several nights ago, I was gone during dinner and Jordan sat with the kids around the table to eat.  Silas asked him what the very best thing that has ever happened to him was.  Jordan sweetly answered it was meeting and marrying me, and then asked what it was for Silas.  He thought for a moment and then said "when I became a Christian."

It was as though the Thank Offering Celebration was the culmination of this summer.  This is the Jesus, this is the love, this is the faith and the relationship that I pray my kids inherit and make their own.  I know that their are pieces of that reflected in each person in our family.  I pray that they aren't limited in seeing Jesus just through Jordan and I, or even through the diverse expression of him in our extended family.  Instead, I pray that all the areas where I am lacking, where Jordan is lacking, where even as a combined effort all of the extended family is lacking, would point them to the Jesus who is complete, deserving of all the praise, worship, and adoration that we can ascribe to him.

In the moment

Ever since Trey has been gaining so many new words in the last 4 months, he wants to be included in all the things the older kids talk about and share.  This includes praying before bed at night.  He has a rich vocabulary but his little voice sounds so tiny.  Everything he says is adorable*, but praying at night totally takes the cake.

He prays things for each person in the family, carefully going through the list of names.  When Holland was in the hospital and I was there with her, he started praying that she and I would get better.  It grew to praying that everyone in the family would get better.  We have a big family these days, especially from the eyes of a two year old.  Almost every time, he gets stuck.  Once he starts listing names, he can't remember if he has said everyone or not, so he just keeps going around and around with our names.  "Mommy get better, and Baby Holland get better, and Daddy get better, and Jewel get better, and Mommy get better and Daddy get better and Silas get better and I get better and Jewel get better and Baby Holland get better..."  You get the point.  I can see how he is trying different methods of grouping, put all the girls together and then all the boys, or maybe parents and then the kids, moving from youngest to oldest...but no matter how you cut it, knowing when to start and stop is hard and sometimes we have to interrupt to gently let him know that he is getting stuck.

Staying at home and being back in the stage of nursing makes me feel like I am sometimes getting stuck.  Nurse the baby, change the baby, make a meal, clean up art supplies, put the baby's binky back in, take two year old to the bathroom, nurse the baby, burp the baby, take the two year old back to the bathroom and read him a book to make sure we get it all this time, put the baby to bed, change the laundry, put away are supplies, tell the kids to get ready for bed, put the baby's binky in, make a meal, nurse the baby, change the baby....You get the idea.  I have tried different methods of grouping as well.  Today will be laundry day, tomorrow will be shopping day, then we will have an organizing day so that the clean up days will be easier, then will be church day.  Or, maybe I will do a little laundry every day so it doesn't get overwhelming and keep up with the cleaning so it doesn't bury us and I could make several meals in one day so I am not preparing a meal every time I turn around.

Last week I had my postpartum check with my OB.  He asked me all the normal questions, screening for any signs of depression.  He has been my doctor through three pregnancies, and he knows me well.  I told him all of the truth, it's not like I am battling depression, just keeping my head above the water.  We experience great extremes right now.  Either one things are going smoothly and I feel like I am getting a handle on things and I feel super excited and proud of all of us for not going completely insane.  Or, we are completely insane.  Two kids are always fighting and one is always demanding specific attention about something, and a baby just requires a ton of physical work right now.

He smiled as I was talking, reassuring me that it is totally normal to feel all of those things, and that he is confident that we will do great.  Then, because he knows me well enough to be able to say this and to know that he needs to say this, he gently let me know that I am getting stuck.  He explained that if my brain is always moving on to the next thing, I can't really be where I am at the moment.  There is even clinical evidence that stopping your forward thinking and planning to soak in the details of the moment you are in actually gives your brain a break and your body responds to it.  Of course he used the example of being where I am if I find myself at the park and all the kids are playing and having a good time.  Just be there.  Don't think ahead about dinner and dishes and baths and bedtimes and baseball and Awanas and homeschooling.  Just be there.

I have been really thinking and praying about that since my appointment.  I want to "be good" at being there.  So I start planning how I am going to do that.  If I am more organized, more put together and planned ahead, then I can afford to be more there.  Right?  In all actuality, I think I do a good job of being there for the good things.  It's easy to stop and soak in that tender moment between siblings, a sincere hug, a totally hilarious dinner time, the snuggle and smell of the baby in my arms.  But what about really being there, staying there, when things are hard?  We've had a majorly difficult parenting week with the older kids.  It is an escape for me to get stuck in the little things instead of being there for a part that is really uncomfortable.

On Friday, Jordan called me from work.  He was assigned to a detail with work that will have him away from home for the next 2-3 weeks.  He was worried for me.  He asked if he should try to decline, after all we just had a baby, surely his boss would understand.  I assured him that we would be fine and that he should go ahead and take the opportunity and I can totally handle it.  He left the next day.  We cried as he pulled out of the driveway.  It wasn't because I was scared if I would make it or not, or worried that I wouldn't be able to handle the kids.  It was because Jordan is an "in the moment" person.  He always helps me get there.  I felt my brain start to plan and think and make a strategy.  After he left, we had a temptation to get started on being stuck.  Put the kids down for rest time, get a meal ready, start the laundry, empty the dishwasher...but then it was time to feed the baby and I found myself sitting in the purple chair with a sweet little baby in my arms as the kids were shaking the house with wild activity in the attic.  I decided to check the verse for the day on my phone while I was resting with Holland.

"In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps."
Proverbs 16:9

I smiled in my heart.  I know my course for the next 2-3 weeks, but Oh Lord, would you direct my steps?  I want this time to be your time.  Only by Your Spirit can I truly be in these moments.  I don't want to be in them without you, and I don't want to get stuck in my own way and miss where you are.  You have gifted me the freedom to live by your Spirit (2 Cor 3:17), make me free from myself to be where you are in your ways.

Yes, they are cute and Yes, the time goes so fast, and Yes, all of a sudden they will be driving and going to college and all of those things.  But, I can't change the speed of life.  That will happen no matter what.  I am not trying to be more in the moment in order to achieve the impossible of keeping them little for a longer time.  I want to be in the moment so that God can involve me in their lives, make me a part of their salvation story, allow me to partner with him in the miracle of molding hearts.

Having such cute kids to be in the moment with...that's just a bonus :)

*So, everything Trey says is adorable, but not everything is good.  He makes a very mean face and shouts "You're MEAN, Dummy, Dummy!" when he feels offended or mistreated by a sibling.  It is very hard not to laugh at this, it is pretty hysterical in fact, but not good...I know...not good.

Intentional Interaction

Last week I was putting something on our family calendar and shook my head at the quickly passing month...only a week until we would be in April and moving ourselves quickly toward the summer time.  I noted that April 1st would fall on a Tuesday this year and mentally ran through what would be on our schedule for the day.  Jordan would be back at work after his two week paternity leave, the kids and I would be fumbling through our first week on our own and trying to get a new schedule and routine into place around homeschooling, baseball, ballet and Awanas.  I went back to my task and wondered how on earth I would find time on that day to get alone with my thoughts and remember Miles.  I would just cross that path when I got to it, every year is different.

On Saturday, March 29th, Holland was admitted to the children's hospital for a severe case of RSV.  She had been congested during the week, but it had gotten progressively worse and then turned scary when she her coughing fits led to turning blue and vomiting.  

I knew she was really sick, but my knee jerk response to most things is "it'll be fine".  I was shocked when they admitted us and even more shocked when we had to stay the night.  I kept feeling like at any moment the doctor would come in and say we could go home.  I just didn't think it was that bad.  

I was wrong.  Instead of sending us home, every time a nurse or doctor came in, they increased our level of care.  First adding oxygen, then fluids, then breathing treatments and nose clearing.  Throughout the night the nursing staff came in and checked her vitals and listened carefully to her breathing.  By the morning the respiratory therapist came back in to report to the doctor that Holland was getting worse and not better.  She was recommending we move her to the PICU for closer monitoring.  

Every time, I was surprised and felt caught off guard.  I was in denial or shock or disbelief when they helped me gather my things out of our pediatric room to go to the PICU.  Holland was in the hospital bed, wires and tubes connected to mobile monitors and oxygen machines.  I followed behind the team of transportation nurses to the large elevators and to another floor.  I was so tired.  I hadn't slept on Friday night (after a trip to a different ER with her where we were sent home) and hadn't slept Saturday night due to the hospital bed, the beeping machines, the nurses coming in and out, and the disorientation of being overnight in a hospital room with my infant.  I was still claiming postpartum hormone fluctuations for my emotionality and fragility.  I just hadn't gotten one second to actually process what was going on. When we stepped out on to the PICU floor, my heart starting beating faster.  

They took us to a new room where a receiving team was waiting.  Multiple doctors and nurses crowded around Holland's bed, working together to get her unhooked, re- hooked, moved over, settled in and stable.  I kept stepping out of the way, until I found myself in the corner of the room just observing everything that was happening.  All of a sudden it hit me.  I have been here before.

Not in this room, not even in this hospital, but in this place.  My baby in distress, in danger and sick and myself standing by and watching, unable to do anything to help.  I was starting to lose control of holding it together.  I grabbed my water bottle and snuck out to go refill in the family lounge.  As I walked down the hallway, there was room after room after room of babies and kids, strapped to their beds and hooked to machines.  Walking faster did not solve the problem, by the time I got to the family lounge I was crying a protected and hidden cry.  

Once in the PICU, Holland was totally attached to her bed and unable to nurse.  I could do nothing to soothe her, I couldn't hold her.  I hadn't fed her since the night before, but no matter how hard I tried, my milk would not let down for the pump.  I sat next to her bed for the entire day.  I sang songs, I hummed, I prayed, I ached to hold her and care for her and be closer to her.  

Late that evening I got a phone call from Callie.  After filling her in on Holland's status, we moved straight to the heart of the matter.  She asked how my heart was feeling.  I just began to cry, out loud, for the first time.  Here I was in the PICU with my daughter, 8 years, nearly to the day, as I was in the NICU with Miles.  It was so overwhelming and painful and emotional.  She asked me what God was talking to me about.  It wasn't until I started talking that I felt like to truth came to me.  

Every year on Miles' birthday, God does something to make it special and unique.  I never know what to expect, but there is always a way for me to take time to remember the day.  In my heart, it has always felt like God whispering to me that he remembers, too.  

Last year I studied the story about Jacob wrestling the angel.  When I first got to the passage I wanted to just breeze over it and move on because the depiction of the Father is very hard for me to understand.  He appears to Jacob in the form of a man (but in a way that let Jacob know it was not an ordinary man) and engages in a wrestling match with him that lasts throughout the night.  At the end, the man is "overcome" by Jacob.  But, God shows himself to Jacob by a demonstration of power, he touches his hip and then asks to be released.  I had such a hard time putting my powerful and mighty God into this scene.

I kept reading it, kept praying over my time in the word.  I spent at least a week stuck on the story, knowing that this particular account was in here for a reason and it revealed special truth about who God is.  I wanted to get a glimpse.  By His grace, one morning, he spoke to me.

"I came to Jacob as a man, to wrestle, because I know who Jacob is.  I created him.  He is a fighter.  It is through a battle and a struggle that he creates connections and bonds.  Wrestling is intimate.  For hours, we engaged each other in full contact.  He used his mind to strategize, his heart to propel him forward, his strength and muscles to maintain positioning and endure, and his spirit to keep him fighting.  I wanted to be there with him as he did this, right there with him.  When I allowed Jacob to overcome me in the battle, it was affirmation for him.  A time to remind him that I gave him incredible strength and endurance.  Those are gifts that he can be confident in.  But then I touched his hip, as a display of my power and glory.  Jacob's gifts are not meant to separate us, but instead to unite us.  I did not do this to shame him or humiliate him.  I did this to show him that he is safe with me.  Even though his physical strength is great and his ability to endure is remarkable, I wanted to remind him that I am not asking him to fight all of the battles alone.  I want him to know the source of his strength and that it is an everlasting supply.  I touched his hip the way I did as a permanent reminder.  It is too easy to forget, to change a situation in your mind, to minimize an interaction that I have with my children.  So I touched his hip in a way that could be a forever reminder of our time together, of the truth I gave him, or the intimacy of our relationship.  I love Jacob.  I wanted to come to him and show him."

God brought that study time to my mind as I was talking to Callie about being reminded of our time with Miles.  God has done this in other areas of my life as well, but his strong and sweet truth rushed over me as I recalled the details of it to Callie.  He gave me truth about Jacob that morning in my devotions, and then on Sunday evening he gave me truth for my heart.

"Sommer, I love you and I made a strong person.  I am the one who equipped you with endurance and resilience.  I did not give it to you so that you could be independent from me and try to survive your life on that alone.  I gave it to you as an illustration of my power and endurance.  I gave it to you so that we could connect through it, that it would draw you to me.  When I gave you Miles, I was there with you.  I allowed for you to get to the end of your strength and endurance so that I could be there with you...us together instead of you on your own.  When I took Miles home, I touched your heart.  It wasn't to shame you or hurt you or wave my power in your face.  It was as a forever reminder of our time together, the way I came to you, how we engaged together, our relationship and our intimacy.  Just as Jacob walked with a limp for the rest of his life, I give you reminders as often as I can of our relationship, because I don't want you to forget and try to become independent.  When Jacob woke in the night with a pain in his hip, I wanted him to come to me and be comforted by me.  When you arrive at April 1st every year (and often more times in between), I want to give you a way to remember.  Not just to remember Miles and the struggle, but remember the intimacy and the relationship and the truth and how I came to you.  I am still here.  I remember also.  And I love you."

Oh how my heart was soothed!  Oh how I sunk down into the comfort of his embrace.  It's true.  I don't have to handle everything going on with Holland on my own, I don't need to muster my strength or put on a tough face.  I go to my source, to remember these are the gifts I inherited from my Father. It's what makes us alike and he loves to see in me, a piece of himself.  It draws us together.  It is me on my path to becoming more and more like him.  

God cared for my heart that evening on the phone with Callie, and then he cared for my physical, emotional and tangible needs.  It is true, my own strength is not enough.  He sent me Aunt Kate, Shilo, Jasmine, Linda, and Grammy.  All of whom were also there the day Miles was born.  He gave me tender conversations with my family on the phone.  He gave me generous parents who did all they could from far away.  Thoughtful and sacrificial friends offered to take my kids and bring me supplies at the hospital.  His strength was overwhelming in its display before me.

After Miles passed away, people sent us flowers in remembrance.  I struggled with the short life of the flowers.  Every time I threw away a drooping stem it was a reminder of Miles' short life.  My mom told my co-workers from school to get me live plants instead of cut flowers.  They bought us a beautiful cherry blossom tree.  After we planted it, we had a major wind storm and our old wooden fence cracked under the force, falling over onto the weak little sapling.  I was standing in the kitchen and saw this happen out the window.  I responded as only a postpartum, mother bear, grieving heart is able to respond.  I threw on my shoes and jacket, raced outside, and with hulk-like strength I lifted the fence off the tree.  I was literally able to physically remove a very long and heavy section of the fence off the tree.  But I would have had to stand there and just hold it, there was no where to move it to and further down the fence was still secured in the ground so I could not push or pull it away.  I carefully propped it up so it was only bending the baby tree and not crushing it.  I sprinted to the garage and got Jordan's chain saw.  Oh yes, I did.  I fired that puppy up and with angry and frustrated tears, chain sawed the fallen fence away from the secured fence and then pulled away the section I had removed.  It was pouring rain and whipping wind.  I sat on the back deck looking at the little sapling and bawled.  I was terrified to lose this memoir of my son.  

The next year, we moved away from that house.  Here I had put all of this effort and strength and endurance into saving this tree and then we moved.  I kept trying to make Miles a piece of something on earth that I could be in charge of preserving and hanging on to.  This year, on his actual birthday, my sister, Daniela, sent me a text to check in on me.  I confided that I was having a tough time.  I wanted to cry and I wanted to be strong for Holland where she is right now and I didn't know how to do both the right way.  She sent me a text back, telling me that she felt like I was a strong and brave woman, and that I was honoring Miles in my every day life, as a mom and just in the way I live as a person.  I cried when I read it, because she is right.  God made me strong and gave me endurance, when I walk with him in those things and when I am reminded of our intimacy and relationship, I live it out to my kids and my extended family and my friends.  But if I think I am doing that on my own, in the same way I saved the cherry blossom tree in our yard, I need only another April 1st to remind me that he is here with me, he is my source, he is my intimate Savior.

Hebrews 7:24-25
"but because Jesus lives forever, he has a permanent priesthood.  Therefore he is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them."

Oh my Lord, most high, you intercede for me.  How can I praise you more?

March Madness

The best thing about digital pictures, is that you can take as many pictures as you would like since it is easy to view and then just choose the best ones.  Consequently, hardly ever do you see a Facebook picture or a blog picture that isn't worthy of sharing.  I am guilty of this very thing...presenting the put together or picture perfect presentation of things.  But, truth be told...our March was the TRUE March Madness.  

So this was technically the very end of February, but just before Holland was born my good friend, Cheslea, came to take maternity pictures of me and the kids.  

Picture #1, I posted on Facebook and may print.  Picture #2, it was bitter cold and super windy and               Chelsea and I were freezing the entire time we were outside.  We had watery eyes and were shivering between shots.  

This is the super cute picture Chelsea captured of the four of us...  this is what was really going on during the photo shoot...

Then Holland was born, and Jordan got another sweet baby girl.  Here is the first picture of him showing off a fresh new baby (note the TV on in the back ground).  Then the second picture, he is clearly over the baby and into the TV show, as they are "snuggling" and she is screaming her new born head off.

Then the kids came to the hospital to meet Holland.  Here is a cute picture of Silas giving her a sweet smile.  Then the rest of the story, the kids were going buck wild in the hospital room, that is Trey jumping on pillow on the pull out bed.

Then we have a semi-decent first family photo...

 Oh, just kidding, that wasn't the first picture, it was one of about 15 takes where someone is taking the opportunity of the grown ups looking at the camera to grab someone, poke a sibling, see exactly what happens when you touch a baby's eye ball, or make the strangest face they can think of to make.

 Remarkably, Chelsea was willing to come back and take more pictures after Holland was born.  I love this one of all the kids together.

I especially love it because it was the ONLY split second when they were acting somewhat human.  

 Here, Trey is clearly scared of being touched by the baby and I am sure Silas is lecturing him on sitting still and Jewel is totally oblivious, sneaking in a head kiss.

Chelsea got this one, truly perfection, of Jordan and Holland.  When it was not Jordan's turn to be in a picture.  He was wrestling the kids around, throwing them onto the bed, and getting them as wound up as possible.  

Here is Holland's angel face...followed by her "Leave me alone and let me take a stinking nap!" face. Guess which one I posted :)

Mother and daughter, bonded and enjoying each other...except for when I was firmly whispering to her that she needed to get her act together and quit the fussing (all while pretending like I was sweetly shushing her).

Then we took a 3 generation picture with all the girls, only after we took one with Trey in it since he refused to get off my lap.  He didn't want to be in a single picture of the shoot, except the one he wasn't supposed to be in.

 The wedding rings, the hands of the mother and father wrapped around the baby and intertwined...

Only after the baby had stopped screaming and trying to get her gas out.

I also posted this, describing it as the boys making a pact to protect Holland

 Doesn't she look safe and sound here as Trey attempts to put Silas in a head lock and take him down...

 Beppe helped a TREMENDOUS amount while she was with us, and totally got in on the March Madness.  Her is a picture of her giving Holland a bath in the sink, a photo that is a tradition to take as my mom gave sink baths to all of us and to all of her grandkids.

 Then she had to finish bath time with Jewel "helping".  This means that Jewel does all she can to totally take over and do it her way.

It was almost Beppe's birthday while she was here.  We made angel food cake with strawberries and whipped cream and sprinkles.  Then we put these cute decorations on and sang to her with candles and all.  What I don't have is a picture of is the part when I was walking through the kitchen with the cake in one hand and the camera (on video as we were singing) in the other and the flame from the candle lit the little paper flags on fire and I nearly torched my hair before setting a burning cake down  in front of her while she was holding my infant and my older kids began all blowing on it at once, shooting pieces of the burning paper all over the table.

 The day my mom left, Grammy and Pops flew in to take a turn in March Madness.  Here is a darling picture of Grammy and Jewel having a tea party.

 Trey was invited to join us, he proceeded to scarf his dainty snack and climb on to the table to find where the whipped cream was coming from.  Of course when he found it he went right to town scooping it directly out of it's fancy little cup and into his mouth.

 Another seemingly sweet kiss from big brother to baby sister, followed by the most sinister and snickery grin you have ever seen, missing teeth and all.

 And a few more major madness moments... This is me giving Holland her first bath.  She is screaming because it is a cold and windy day and our kitchen window is not even close to being sealed so it is FREEZING in the kitchen.  And then the kids were helping Beppe with some cooking project, they were all covered with pureed fruit trying to stir all at the same time and by the looks of it, Trey is ticked that someone told him to stop eating all of it off of his spoon.

Grandpa did a lot of snuggling and singing, but this...this is Grandpa on babysitting duty for Jewel.  That is her baby doll in his arms, she was serious about him taking care of the baby.  Later, when Beppe asked him to take Holland while we got dinner ready, she was totally put out that Grandpa put her doll down to take Holland and gave Beppe the true stink eye.

 Grammy reads about a thousand stories a day to the kids.  They snuggle with her and listen intently, unless I come in with the camera.  Then Trey takes off, Jewel refuses to put her legs down and effectively shows the world her underwear through her tights, and Silas starts flipping his wig and flopping around.

To be fair, we also had a lot of genuine amazing March moments as well.  There was a lot of precious times getting to know Holland and enjoying the relationships of everyone who came to visit.  

However, the maddest March moment?  I posted several of these cute pictures of Trey snuggling with Holland on our bed.  I loved each one and in the moment Jordan and I were literally on the verge of tears as we tried to absorb all the cuteness.

 Then we realized Trey had come into our bed that night because he didn't feel good.  He had a fever and was beginning to cough and get stuffy.  After all that sweet snuggling, he infected is darling baby sister with a cold that turned to RSV.  So, after Holland was born, Beppe came and Grandpa came and Great Pake and Great Beppe came, and then Grammy and Pops came, and then Jordan took two weeks off of work for paternity leave, and then on the Friday before Jordan was scheduled to go back to work and we were scheduled to start really doing life with four kids, Holland was admitted to the hospital and stayed for nearly a week.  Jordan had to take more time off and keep the three older kids by himself while I was in hospital lock down with Holland.

 So, how is life with four kids?  Madness I tell you, March Madness.  We are thrilled to welcome the month of April.