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My love. His hands. So strong and skilled, yet so tender and gentle. His work requires such precision from his hands, they endure many bangs and bumps, and they’re often blackened with the dirt of the job. But despite all of it, my husband’s hands are never anything but tender with me. Wiping away my tears after a long day. Grabbing my waist at the kitchen sink. Cupping my cheeks as he gives me a look filled with such love.

I would read about men with hands like that. I always thought it was so romantic when a man worked with his strong hands and yet used those same hands so tenderly with his wife. I wondered what it would be like to be that woman who was loved by the man with the strong, yet tender hands. And then God gave me a man like that. And I was that woman.

And it’s better than I ever dreamed.

STOP

GO

Rain. It makes colours more vivid in a way that sunlight never can. The green of the grass is almost glowing, scattered with jewels of raindrops. The black of the asphalt in front the garage is shiny black, juxtaposed by the brilliant blue of Aaron’s work truck. The gray-whiteness of the sky makes the yellow tulips from my love on my kitchen windowsill all the brighter.

And it clears my mind too. After several hard weeks, my attitude this morning was less than stellar. So very tired, and my mind just felt foggy. But a simple walk to the mailbox, alone in the misty rain, made me feel like a new person. I need rain. I just do. The cool wetness, breathing in and on my face. I was made for this.

And I understand more the phrase “grace like rain”.

STOP

There are quite a few things in parenting that took me by surprise, but the biggest one was probably the constancy.  There are now little people totally dependent on you all. the. time.  Around the clock, every day. No weekends (at least the sleep-in lazy kind). No days off.  And I know this is how it should be, and most of the time I love taking care of my little people, but it can be wearying.  Especially during needy days (and weeks and months) when you don’t even get a break at night due to whatever.

I’ve heard different opinions about “me-time” for moms.  Some say that it’s totally necessary and the mom’s “right” and that she should regularly schedule it into her life.  Others say that it’s unnecessary and that the mom should find her fulfillment in her job as a wife and mom.  All I know is…it’s very nice.  This Saturday is a local library’s book sale, and Aaron will be home so he offered to watch the kids for an hour or two so I can go to it all by myself.  He even told me to buy myself a coffee to help with the leisurely browsing (yes, I know I have an amazing husband!).  And I’m really looking forward to it.  And I know that I’ll come back home to my little blessings, refreshed and revived.  Because sometimes I just need a little break.

Don’t get me wrong…I love my life and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  But I’m just being real.  It’s been a hard couple of months what with sickness and teething and hard toddler phases and Aaron working long.  And so little breaks are much appreciated.  They are just part of the always grace that gets me through each day.

Five Minute Friday: Awake

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Awake.  It seems that I’ve been in that state more in the last couple years of my life than ever before.  I can’t remember the last time I slept solidly from the bedtime until morning.  A wakeful toddler (thankfully usually tended by his daddy though the noise still wakes me up), a baby that still nurses several times a night.  Aaron and I almost always go to bed later than we should, enjoying the quiet or getting caught up in our new game-for-two Lost Cities.  Then morning comes oh-so-quickly, and I’m awake again.

Yes, I’m awake a lot as a mama.  But I’ve found that my babies have helped me awaken more to the little gifts of every day and the beauty of the supposedly mundane.  A big brother making his baby sister laugh.  How exciting dirt is.  How going outside can make you kick your legs in glee.  The moon.  A bug.  A flower.  Sunshine.

For often when you wake, there’s light.

STOP

Five Minute Friday: Roar

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Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.
~C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

Aslan. Though I didn’t fully learn to love him until I was past twenty, I knew who he was when I was young.  And I thrilled to the line in an old Michelle Tumes’ song: “I love an untame lion, he’s broken every chain”.

Untame.  Because, as Mr. Beaver tells Lucy, “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe.  But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

He isn’t safe, but He’s good.  And what does that mean for me?  I believe in my Father’s goodness and it’s something I have to remind myself of when things get hard. But to couple that with not being safe…that’s a scary thought.  That means that something that is for my good, because He is good, could feel unsafe to me.  It will probably be, as the cliche says, “out of my comfort zone”.  And as much as I like to think that I’m one of those people who are able to handle unknown situations (what with traveling the world and all), I like my safe little spot, thank you very much.

But I want to get past that.  I want to be comfortable and content even in situations that seem totally beyond anything that seem safe and comfortable to me.  Because while my God isn’t safe, I know He’s good.

STOP

A…luncheon was held a half century ago in England.  The people around the table were [held together] by the bonds of spiritual war.  The general topic was comparative religions, which sparked a debate on the question of Christianity’s most valuable distinction.  What separated Christianity from every other religion in the world?

One suggested the Incarnation, another the resurrection of Christ.  It was pointed out, however, that these two vital features of Christianity were also part of the deities of other religions.  C. S. Lewis, who joined the debate late, uttered the answer as soon as he heard the topic of the day.  “Oh, that’s easy,” said perhaps the greatest Christian apologist of the twentieth century. “It’s grace.”

~ Tim Kimmel, Grace-Based Parenting, pg. 28

Lemon Garlic Chicken Pasta with Spinach

Cook a pound of pasta (I like to use fusilli).  While the pasta is cooking, melt a stick of butter in a small saucepan and add one head of garlic, roughly chopped and one small onion, chopped fine.  Cook on medium heat, stirring occasionally, making sure not to let the garlic and onion burn, but develop a nice browned outside.  While the garlic and onion are browning, zest three to four lemons using the fine side of a cheese grater.  After zesting, juice the lemons and set juice aside.  Without washing the grater, finely grate some asiago cheese and mix with the lemon zest.  After the garlic and onions are browned, remove from heat and stir in the lemon juice.  Once the butter and lemon juice have emulsified, whisk in a little water.  Salt and pepper generously.  By this time, your pasta should be almost done.  Drain and pour into a large bowl.  Dump a bunch of fresh baby spinach on top of the pasta (remember, it will shrink down considerably as it wilts so make sure to use a lot).  Add some thinly-sliced grilled chicken on top of the spinach.  Pour the lemon-garlic sauce over everything and top with the grated cheese and lemon zest.  Mix thoroughly and set aside for a couple minutes in a warm place to let the spinach wilt some.  Mix thoroughly again and serve.

After a couple songs had played, Derek Webb’s “The Church” came on.  This is an incredible song about how the Church is “a harlot and a whore”, yet she is still our Father’s bride and, as the chorus states, “if you love Me, you will love the Church”.  I’ve always been very convicted by this song because I often get frustrated with the state of the Church today, but I need to be reminded that she is still God’s bride.  But this time, as I was softly singing along, I had the realization that I am a part of that Church as well…and as such, I too am a harlot and a whore in relationship to God.  And it’s true.  How many times have I been unfaithful to my heavenly Lover and sought fulfillment in things other than Him? But…there is always grace.  That’s what prompted those tears that made my voice break while singing along in the car.  No matter how many times I take my eyes off of Jesus, no matter how many times I fail, He will welcome me back with open arms.  Hallelujah.

As the different shuffled songs played during the rest of my morning, and as I was really able to listen to the words, this emphasis on grace continued.  On the drive down there was Caedmon’s Call playing their rendition of “Thy Mercy My God“, and on the drive back, Sandra McCracken sang the same song. There was Andrew Peterson’s line about “into the wild of this grace” (from his song “The Magic Hour”) and Josh Garrel’s reminding me that “we’re all castaways in need of rope” and that “even when I fall I’ll get back up for the joy that overflows my cup” (from “Farther Along“).  And Sons of Korah asking, from Psalm 116b, “How can I repay the Lord for all of His goodness to me?”.

Along with this song-prompted realization, grace is something that the Lord seems to constantly be teaching me about.  It touches every aspect of my life.  The book I’m currently reading is called Grace-Based Parenting by Tim Kimmel and even though I’m only through the first two chapters, it has already been one of the best parenting books I’ve ever read.  Our Father has shown us so much grace, and we need to show the same to our children (though that grace is always combined with truth as Jesus came full of “grace and truth” [John 1:17]).

Another book on my to-read stack is Grace for the Good Girl: Letting Go of the Try-Hard Life by Emily P. Freeman.  Recommended to me by a friend, it sounded right up my alley since my entire life I’ve struggled with accepting grace from God and others and trying instead of do it all on my own.

Last year too, with reading One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp and receiving her message of eucharisteo and that “all is grace”, it seems that grace is something that God wants me to focus on.  Seeing grace in the everyday and realizing that all the gifts He gives are just extensions of His grace.  And after recognizing my Father’s amazing grace to me, viewing all others through that grace-filled lense.

And so, I’ve taken “grace” as my word for 2012.  Several different bloggers that I read and respect and am often encouraged by, after much prayer and thought, pick a word that becomes their theme for the year.  Being a word person, I always thought that was great idea, but never really thought to do it for myself.  For me, it wasn’t after a lot of prayer and thought — it happened in a couple song-filled minutes driving a car with a sleeping baby.  But I really feel that grace needs to be my theme for 2012.  And so it will be…and who knows where God will take it?!  I’m excited to see.

Grace to you.

Five Minute Friday: Open

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It’s funny how God works things. The week that I finally decide to join Five Minute Friday, the prompt coincides directly with something I’ve been musing about. My openness in my writing.

I like to think of myself as a pretty open person. Honesty is huge to me. Yet, in reading some of my blog posts from the past year, I realize that often doesn’t carry over into my blogging. Many of my posts are very informative and helpful, but they’re not very open. They don’t really reveal my heart and what I’m thinking about and dealing with. And when I think about bloggers and posts that I am most encouraged by, they’re the ones that think out loud. They’re not focused on communicating something helpful. They’re just being open and sharing where their heart is at. And I want to be that too.

So, while I hesitate to make any resolution or plan for the next year for my blog, in general I want to strive toward more openness in my writing and posting. Yes, there will still be informative posts and the like, but I want to really start to open my heart and share in the same way that I am encouraged by when others do.

STOP

While Mary was chosen by God to bear the Messiah, she was no less human than I am.  And in all that humanity, she was a mama.  Jesus was her baby.  I know that for me, as a mama, it’s so hard for me to think of my babies going through any type of pain.  Yet Mary knew, even before Jesus was born, that He was the Savior.  And though she didn’t know the details, I’m sure she realized that being a Savior would bring much pain.  And such thoughts would only be confirmed by Simeon when he told her that “a sword will pierce through your own soul also” (Luke 2:35).  And this when her little One was just weeks old.

And the amazing thing to me is that, in all of this, “Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart” (Luke 2:19).  If I’m being totally honest with myself, I don’t know if I would do the same.  To look my precious tiny baby, to nurse this helpless little one, knowing that great pain will come to him…I don’t know if I could just accept it.  And yet, in the end, I must.  Jars of Clay captures the conflicting emotions so well in their song “Bethlehem Town”:

Oh, Mary, Joseph, rest your eyes
Try not to think of the ending
World full of empty, He will die
But tonight He is still just a child…

Have you cursed at the wind
Have you cried to the heavens
Have you fought with this mercy you don’t understand
When the wise men kneel down
To kiss the hand of this king they found in Bethlehem town

Will you hold back the years a while
Will you dream that this man could always be a child
And never carry all the weight
Of the dirt and the distance and the company we keep…

And did the stars shine much brighter that night
You gave birth to the death that would bring us to life
And did the mystery keep you awake
Was the sound of His little heart too much to take

I don’t know what the point of all this rambling is…it’s just that in the past weeks, I’ve been struck anew by the humanity of the Incarnation, from a mother’s viewpoint.  Giving birth is such an amazing experience, and I sometimes forget that’s what Mary did…she birthed Jesus.  That incredible moment right after the baby is born, when you bring them onto your chest and have your first glimpse of this little one that has kicked and squirmed inside you for the past nine months.  Mary had that…with Jesus.  She nursed the Savior of the world.  He was her baby Boy. And she was His mama.

It was not a silent night
There was blood on the ground
You could hear a woman cry
In the alleyways that night
On the streets of David’s town

And the stable was not clean
And the cobblestones were cold
And little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
Had no mother’s hand to hold

It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love

Noble Joseph at her side
Callused hands and weary eyes
There were no midwives to be found
In the streets of David’s town
In the middle of the night

So he held her and he prayed
Shafts of moonlight on his face
But the baby in her womb
He was the maker of the moon
He was the Author of the faith
That could make the mountains move

It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love
For little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
It was a labor of love

(Andrew Peterson; “Labor of Love”)