13 going on wonderful

Dear Rylee Jeanne,

How did this day sneak right up on me the way it did? I still remember all those weeks sitting next to your incubator in the hospital after you were born and staring at your sweet tiny face for hours. I remember waiting days to even hold you in my arms and I thought if I didn’t get to do it soon I might just not live another day. So great was my longing to wrap you up in my arms. Your presence and personality and poise have literally shaped this family. You are the most tremendous oldest sister this not-so-small family could ever have asked for. Every one of your siblings is blessed that you came first. Your creative and energetic ways make you such an enjoyable playmate. Your ability to direct people and quietly bring order out of chaos, it’s such a unique and wonderful gift.

You are 13 going on wonderful. I recently crossed path with a former youth pastor of mine. As I expressed emotion over entering this new era, of parenting teenagers, he had a good bit of sage advice for me. But first he inquired “I need to know…is she the hellion you were at 13?”. To which I easily replied, “Um, no…not even close!”. Your life and love and character don’t hold a candle to how I behaved myself at 13. While I do feel the changes on the horizon, I am keenly aware that you are amazing. I have the same longing in my heart for you as I did the week you were born. I know well enough to know you still need to be wrapped up, held up by the love that only a mama can give. Even if there is some adolescent attitude that comes my way.

You quietly absorb and asses the happenings around you. You are intuitive and aware of more than I’d even imagine. This is a beautiful quality and as you get older you will continue to learn to do this in ways that allow your heart to still function and stay whole despite being highly tuned in to all that is going on. Your mama is still learning. Learning to love wildly and freely without expectation. Learning to be brave. In many ways I feel like we are learning together and I see something new forming and though I don’t know yet quite how to proceed or just what it looks like…it is a wonderful mystery we are headed into. I told you this week I’d read this incredible verse in Collosians, that the mystery of the ages had now been revealed and that guess what the mystery was? This mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory (Col 1:27). You are an image bearer of Christ. You have something of Him to reflect to the world you live in. And that right there is a most beautiful hope.

I do see one thing clear. You need your dad. Front and center. He has a new role to fill in your life in this season. You adore him. Not that that is new, since it isn’t. But something is different. As I watched him hold your hand and ice skate with you this afternoon, a wave of feelings poured over me. Gratitude that he is who he is. That he is present and available for you. That he loves Jesus above all else and aims to lead and love our family the best he can. That I get to share him with you. Grateful that you have the same gift I did as a young girl (and still enjoy today)…a dad who loves God, loves my mom and loves me well.

Let me let you in on a secret. Your dad and I don’t know what we’re doing all the time. We haven’t done this before, you are our first teenager and all we know is what we know. And there’s a lot we don’t know. A wise and respected older friend in our life told us once…during a period of very tumultuous marital struggle for us: “Aside from a heritage of genuine faith, the best gift you can ever give your kids is parents who love each other well.” She went on to explain the impact that has on the life of a child. You’ve heard us yelling in the yard over the pigs and the mud and “why did we ever say yes to this…”. You’ve seen me cry in the laundry room because I hadn’t been a receiver of grace when I was desperate for it. You’ve seen me cut your dad down with disrespectful words and a too-quick-mouth. You see us kissing in the kitchen or in the pantry and you watch the continual ebb and flow that marriage is. You miss almost zero of what takes place here. We aren’t modeling perfection for you. We are however modeling real life and mess and grace. And you won’t grow up and leave our home thinking life is always peachy and smells like roses. You’ll know it stings and hurts and smells like manure sometimes (literally AND figuratively). But God is present in our pain and in our mess and imperfection and He gives glimpses of glory all along the journey. Your dad and I are committed to Jesus, to one another, to this family, to you and your siblings and to being Love-bearers to the people on our path in any way we are able.

Whatever these years ahead hold, we will be right here. Living out our love one day at a time. We are so proud of who you are and the way you live, think, speak and love. These are great years ahead…don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. They may be a bit of a mystery to us yet, but we are in this together!

Always,

Mama

A super fun birthday afternoon ice skating with siblings and girl friends!

Your littlest sis - an almost aspiring ice skater :) — Your littlest sis – an almost aspiring ice skater 🙂

Blurry - yes. But had to include. 21 years ago this year your dad took me ice skating on our first date. It was super precious to buzz around the skate rink with our six kids in tow. (and yes, we still like holding hands - even if it makes you giggle!) — Blurry – yes. But had to be included. 21 years ago this year your dad took me ice skating on our first date. It was super precious to buzz around the skate rink with our six kids in tow. (and yes, we still like holding hands – even if it makes you giggle!)

A far away love

I handed her the paper in the living room after dinner, “You need to read this” I simply said. I’d been waiting for hours to give it to her, knowing full well what it would mean to her, how the words would make their mark, knowing I had no choice but to show it to her. She glanced at it and knew right away. She didn’t even finish reading it.

Rylee has been writing Fatuma, her sponsored Compassion child, for seven years. They almost share a birthday but they’ve shared many words, colored pictures and family photos over the last several years. In the beginning I wrote the letters. She dictated to me what to say and I wrote. She would color or sign her name. But these past few years, she writes herself and shares life and love with her precious “sister” in Kenya.

A year and a half ago she came to me and asked if she could forego birthday and Christmas gifts and save money towards her years long dream of going to visit Fatuma and meet her face to face. And that’s exactly what she’s done. She opened a bank account and together with her brother also started an egg selling business to save enough money for a ticket to Kenya. She is close to the amount required for a ticket. Next year was the year we planned to go.

So when the letter came, the one that said Fatuma’s parents had taken her out of the program and she could no longer be our sponsor child, it absolutely broke her sweet heart. She started to cry and she did not stop for the rest of the evening. I even made her favorite cookies. She tried to smile and said a quiet “thank you”. But then returned to her spot on the couch where she rested her head for the evening. On her own initiative her little sister brought her out a birthday gift, one she’d bought with her own money, three weeks early, to give in hopes it would ease the sadness.

Who will make sure she is ok? Can we still go see her next year? The questions came through the tears. Will she have enough to eat? Why did they take her out of the program? Is there any way we can find her?

Hard questions. Ones I couldn’t answer. It took me two days to think I was ready to call Compassion and ask them for any more info they might have. Turns out I wasn’t ready at all. Our hearts are so intertwined with this sweet girl far away. I choked out questions and the young thing on the phone had no idea what to do with my tender heart. She read from the file on the computer. She answered the same questions twice. She listened.

There was nothing that could be done. The workers had gone to her house, she was well but her parents simply had made a decision. We could write one final letter. And that would be all. Rylee’s trip in September of next year that she had painstakingly saved for, would not look like the in-person reunion she had dreamed of. And she would have to wonder if her friend across the world was finding her way all right.

As we brushed shoulders in the kitchen and she crumbled in my arms again, I got this beautiful, heart-twisting glimpse of what real love looks like. And just like I wrote in my last post, it hurts. It hurts to love hard. There is cost beyond what you can possibly calculate to loving with abandon.

“God’s still good right?” I whispered. Yes. All the time. Always good. Not the good I’d choose of course. But always good. “If we didn’t care about her so much, this wouldn’t be such a loss. Don’t doubt for a minute that God has a plan for you, for your journey, for everything. We just have to ask and wait. He’ll show us.”

Love and loss go together. Today at lunch as kids admired my pendant necklace, the one with one of Grampy’s ties encased in it, they asked about him. It’s been five years this month. Five years since my husband returned from the search and rescue mission to find his father in the mountains. Audrey was a baby then. She asked lots of questions and pondered how very hard it must have been for her daddy to find his father frozen by the lake. I’ve held the necklace between my fingers dozens of times today. Wishing he were here to do silly things with our kids, to be proud of who his son is, to love my cooking and pour me another glass of sparkling cider.

What every tween girl needs to know

She’s almost twelve. This lovely, sweet oldest child of mine. She is leaps and bounds more delightful than my 12 year old counterpart. I think of my twelve year old self and shudder. My poor parents. But that’s another story. I have to write down this story from today before I forget because it matters too much not to remember…

Dear precious daughter,

I don’t want you to forget, so I’m writing you this letter. It might not have seemed like the sort of day you need to remember. But you’ve got to trust me and know that my thirty-five years have left me knowing more each year how only a few things in life actually matter. It started a Monday like any other. But with some changes in the girl dynamics of the co-op we attend every week. You need to know, I saw you. I saw you hold back and make room for someone new. I saw you watch things all shift and everyone struggle to find their place. You probably think I didn’t notice. You probably felt like it seemed silly how deeply you felt the change and how hard it was, how hard it is when things go from something comfortable and familiar to something different and new and all in one day. Daughter, it isn’t silly and your ability to feel deep things, is a God-given wonder. You may question that in years to come. I surely have. You’ll have to learn to trust that it is part of your intentional, purposeful design. You will get to figure out for yourself that no slew of emotions, no amount of irrational, hormonal talk is too much for God to handle. I will drive you nuts sometimes and I won’t say the right thing. I may make you wonder if I really ever was young once in my trying-to-be-wise mother speak.

My mama heart hurt as I stood back, knowing you girls would all need to find your way today. You were gracious and good. But I saw your heart and it was sad, I knew. At lunch time I got a text from a friend asking you for a sleepover, tonight, a school night. The rule-following mother in me wanted to say “no way, it’s a school night!”. But the tender hearted, receiver-of-God’s-extravagent-love mother knew the only answer was yes. So I shot a one-word text back, “yes”, until I had a break and could write more. We drove home in quiet. You walked into the kitchen and I wrapped my arms around you. I held your head close and whispered these words I want you never to forget…

God loves you so much girl. He cares about every. tiny. detail. He saw your day and he knows it wasn’t easy. Your heart matters to him.

So much so that he has gifted you a sleepover this very night with your beloved friend, I told you. I felt your tears on my cheek as the words soaked in. Mine joined yours and I held you tight. It’s true. You’ll wonder and doubt if it is and that’s okay. The emotions, the complicated, beautiful mystery of being a woman can feel like a burden not a blessing some days, months, years. You will feel what seems at times too much, too deeply and relationships will dizzy your heart and mind. Things that were once one way will be another. Friends will disappoint and disagree. Imperfect people will say or do things that break your heart. It is the way of a broken humankind in radical need of a perfect, saving One.

As you got in the car tonight with your sweet friend, I looked up to the fickle sky. I grinned. The dark, rainy sky had met the sun. And over the trees full of flaming autumn leaves sat a perfect, brilliant rainbow. It took my breathe away. The promises of God wrapped up in one physicial reminder that He knew we would always need. We would need to know

always

here.

It felt like it was just for you as you drove down the road literally right under the rainbow as I watched from the front porch. It is in the grey places of pain and loss and change that we get to see the rainbow beauty. So precious one, remember today, this plain ordinary Monday where the God of the universe reached down into your life and showed you a glimpse of His heart for you. Oh how He loves you, I said quietly as you walked away. And He does. Sometimes it will be quiet and hidden and small. Then sometimes it will be magnificent and unmistakable. He will show you a million different ways as you journey through life. And I’ll be right here, praying you can see and feel His incredible, beyond words love for your one-of-a-kind self.

Life with you in it is such a gift.

All my love,

your Mama

Eleven years old

Dear Rylee,

I held your hand tonight in the van, for miles down the dark, rainy highway on our way home from your little brothers’ birthday dinner. I squeezed you tight and thought you’d let go but you just held tighter. We’d been talking birthdays and gifts and Kenya. You talk often of your friend there, your sponsored child who lives across the world from us. She is never far from your thoughts, your heart. But especially today. She’s just about to have a birthday too, the exact same age as you. I doubt she’s ever heard the term “tween” even if that’s the category her age falls into. I also doubt she’s ever heard of Playmobil toys.

You have been saving for a long time for a very specific, sizable Playmobil set. One with cows and a milking room and all sorts of cool farm stuff. Tonight on our rainy day home you told me you’d been thinking. That instead of wanting that set that you wanted to put that money toward the trip you plan to take to meet your African sister-friend in about two years.

You also asked if you could request that for your birthday and Christmas you simply get money toward that same goal instead of presents. You explained why, having thought it all through quite obviously and knowing the cost would be great and it would take some planning, some setting aside of certain things in order to be able to go. You told me you really didn’t need more presents but that you just wanted so much to be able to go to Kenya.
That’s when I took your hand in the van. With tears and a heart plum full of love for you, my oldest daughter, I told you you were beautiful…that your heart was beautiful…that I loved who you were and how you cared about the things that matter most. It was one of those moments where everything is crystal clear and you don’t want to forget a single detail. You aren’t one to say what you don’t mean and I knew as you spoke that you meant every word.

You are indeed a beauty. Inside and out. We are insanely blessed to have you as our first born. The gift you are to my life, to our family is beyond any measure. You spent your first weekend as an eleven year old sewing. First pillowcase dresses for girls in poverty in Africa…then sewing matching dresses with your dear friend, dresses that you wore together to church on Sunday.

I’m well aware we are on the cusp of a new era of parenting as we creep closer to the teen years. While that will hold its own set of wonder and challenge, for now I’m savoring the girlhood just a bit longer and relishing what we have right now.

So grateful that you are here.

Love always,

Mama

All in the family

One of the challenges that I’d never really thought much about that we would face as our family grew was that we would have choices to be made about what sorts of things we would say yes to outside the things we do at home. Not that we spend our days here in a bubble not engaging with the outside world. Not at all so. We love having a steady stream of people here for one thing or another.

Some of our friends are highly involved and committed to year around sports. While for certain families this works great, it also has the potential to fragment the family quite a bit. Dinners together are the exception instead of the rule. The costs for kids who move beyond recreation-level sports are into the many hundreds of dollars per season. However, even for just 6 weeks of YMCA level, “for fun” soccer for our kids it would have cost us almost $500.

When one child excels in a sport, it’s easy to get excited and put others on the sidelines (literally and figuratively). We’ve watched this play out just this past year in fact. It is harder than I’d have guessed to find things that a family with several children can be involved in together.

Two years ago this fall we happened upon a county wide 4-H meeting near us. We stopped and talked with each club leader for any animals we were interested in. The commitment levels varied a great deal. The personality and “feel” of the groups did as well. We still lived in our tiny rambler with our five children, mostly quite happily. We had chickens and a dog and a cat. We were far from anything that resembled any sort of country, agricultural life. But we signed up anyway. Figuring we could just learn about animals, make some friends and have some fun.

We had no idea what we were in for. We spent that first year learning all sorts of interesting things about dairy goats. But better than that we made some great friends. Grown up ones as well as kid ones. Each of our children were challenged to give presentations to the group. Learning to stand up in front of your peers and share about something is such a helpful lifelong skill.

When we had the opportunity to move part way through that year we found ourselves living at the end of an unmaintained county road with a small pasture already in place. And it happened to be just about kidding season. Three baby goats quickly found their way to our little family farm and into our hearts.

Of course fair season is the culmination of the 4-H year. We didn’t really “get” that the first year. Last year we showed up at one small community fair and had a ball. This year we did the same fair (pictures below!) but had anticipated all year long that we would do the Big One. The full Monty of the fair world around these parts. But it requires its own post which I promise to work on this week. For now, here are some snapshots of us enjoying our time at Silvana together. Even just a one-day, all day event for seven people isn’t a small affair….but it was insanely fun for all of us. Finn included!

Finn getting ready to take on the show ring with the Tiny Tots

lovin' us some cousins who came to watch!

taking a snooze wearing his show ribbon - hard work wrangling goats when you're two!

Snapshots of September

Words will follow up later but for now, a few photos to tell the story of September…

(insert photo of the one that got away here)

Delighting in daughters

Her blanket is in the van and its dark and late and my foot has a tiny piece of glass in it and I don’t want to limp outside to get it. She is too tired to argue so she gently takes my hand and cradles her cheek with my palm just like she would with her blankie. She holds on to my other hand with her tiny one and I watch her eyes flutter. Mine keep closing from a longer than most day of the hardest work. But I will them back open to make sure I don’t miss getting to watch her fall asleep.

There is something delicious and other-worldly about little girls. Her lips are a perfect tiny rosebud and her curls hang all around her face. She reaches out to touch things that aren’t there and makes the softest little sounds as she drifts off. Her skin is unblemished and untouched by age and I soak in all that she is in this moment. She possesses a tender, sweet spirit and I pray for it and her to be protected in all the years to come. That somehow she can cultivate and grow in her feminine, soft loveliness in this ever-so-mixed up world.

The older daughter, my first born, she has this intangible ability to sense how people feel around her. Maybe that’s why she went to all the effort today to set up a tea party in the family room for us girls. She thought of everything. Put Ray LaMontagne on the CD player and a fan on for ambient noise. Tried to light candles but couldn’t find a lighter. Put a table cloth over the old card table and sprinkled rose petals from the yard all over the table. She played two roles even, server/waitress and the friend joining us who was running late. She switched between roles throughout our lunch. Made sure to tell me I would be so impressed by the baker who’d made our cookies we were eating “she has FIVE kids, can you believe it? and she made these delicious cookies and they are gluten free!” I grinned big and marveled at her nine year old self, play acting and still managing to compliment me in the most darling fashion. There were even little umbrellas in our iced tea! I rode the happy of our tea all day long. I replayed it all over and over and was unceasingly thankful that I am blessed with these two daughters.

A nine year old!

Nine years ago last week we welcomed a tiny, sick, premature baby into our family and became parents for the first time. She has grown into an amazing, beautiful girl who will be a young woman before we know it. This is her birthday letter (part of it at least…) from this year:

You are nine years old. My heart bursts with gratitude for the girl you are becoming. As I watched you open gifts last night for your birthday you were so grown up and polite and genuine as you found delight in each present you had been given. I did not have to remind you to say thank you and you were so grateful and so quick to appreciate what you received. It reflected a growing up, maturing heart that is often a beautiful reflection of Jesus to those around you.
Your heart for others Rylee, its amazing. And for years now I’ve agonized over the lack of friends for you in our life and how hard daily life with your brother can be day in and day out. You endure a lot with him and sometimes you have such a great time. But there are days that he hurts you with words, hands and attitude. We’ve tried our best to provide friendship-making-opportunities for you but nothing great has panned out.
Until now. God has heard our many prayers and He has opened up new doors with a sweet group of girls that I can see becoming long time, precious friends for you. He cares so much about you. He knew just who you would be and just what you would need. As you head into the pre-teen years, you will crave companions and these new girls are perfectly suited to share life with you. They love animals, they are in 4-H, they go to our co-op, they have parents who love Jesus….the list goes on. I just want to make sure I wrote you about how faithful God has continued to be to you and how much we see Him in and around you.
You love to put your baby brother down for naps and are so proud when you get him to sleep. You often ask me if I got much sleep when you see me in the morning. You are quick to help with meal preparation and love, love to organize things. You share. A lot. You are the apple of your little cousin Ruby’s eye. I’m pretty sure you’ll need chiropractic help for your back after all the time you LOVE spending holding little ones.
You’ve identified our baby pattern and have resolved that the “next baby God gives us will be a boy”. It’s that simple to you. Our value of life, all life, is so internalized in you – it often truly blows me away. How you will live out your life and your purpose with driving truths as counter culture as these I do not know. I do know that your dad and I cannot wait to see your life continue to unfold. Your sensitivity to what is going on around you in the lives, faces and hearts of others is far, far beyond your years.
YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.
YOU ARE OUR TREASURE.
Our life, our family is so, so much better because of you.
Happy 9^th birthday sweet girl!

Modeling the pillowcase dress she sewed last week at a 4-H sewing workshop! After she shows it at the fair it will be donated to an orphanage in Haiti.

Time for lovely

Yesterday afternoon the boys were playing and the girls asked to have a tea party. Rylee found a little pad of paper and wrote down their order and handed it to me. Usually she runs her own tea party but this time she wanted to be waited on. I could have told her I wasn’t a waitress (it’s been said before!) but instead I told them to wait at their table. I donned my grandma’s old ruffled apron and rummaged around finding snacks and crystal bowls (that haven’t been used in years) and my wedding china.

It was the end of the week so options were slim for food but I decided it was more about presentation. Rice crackers in a beautiful glass dish with a lid would be perfect. I used the tray they’d set out for me and filled it up with fun things.

Oh their delight when they saw me in my apron at their door with a tray full of love!

It doesn’t come natural to me, this slowing down, but oh the sweetness that comes when I do. And my goodness are children ever so good at helping me practice this discipline!

8 years ago

Born 5 weeks before her March due date, Rylee Jeanne made us parents for the first time 8 years ago on Wednesday. She is a treasure of a girl and we are completely blessed that she is the oldest of our brood. Tonight she wrote me a note and brought it to me while I read to her little sis on the couch:

To mom. Thank you for teaching me to reed. I love you so so so so much. Love Rylee.

She told me this was the ‘whole earth’….and in the middle is mama.

It’d been an extra long, extra rough day and granted, I am 9 months pregnant. But I started to cry and was reminded afresh one of the things I love most about Rylee. Her heart is so tender. She loves people so well. She may not have spelling all down or punctuation and she may throw some sassiness my way a bit often. But she is an incredible love-giver. And that is for certain what I most love watching play out in her little life.

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A Place for Little Feet

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