Found

I found this sermon on the internet yesterday. I had never heard it before, preached by the pastor of Church of the Resurrection out in D.C., not the one we attend. He heard of Jonan's story last year and asked us if he could use his story in his sermon on suffering. We were in between period of Jonan's life...and his New Life quickly approaching. We said sure, though we had never met, and still have not. I found the sermon, over a year later and listened. He is a great teacher and parses out faith in challenging times very well using the Gospel of Luke. He tells Jonan's story. It is about 37 minutes long, so listen when you have the time to enjoy and be transformed by all of it.   Listen Here


Also found...me, by Elsa in this video. I had put her in her crib under the mobile while I was scrubbing the bathroom the other day. I heard all sorts of noise coming from the room so I grabbed the camera and snuck on in...She was enjoying the company of the frog when I tried to start up the mobile...

Well

It was Monday of this week and I was still feeling weary. Lent had begun the previous Wednesday bereft of personal action. The discipline of Celebration chosen, but I must confess, I had little hitch in my spiritual giddy-up, one might say. Evening was fast approaching which means dinner and, for Mondays, my small group of women arriving at 7pm. They come to our home and daddy takes Elsa out and about from 7-9pm all wrapped up close to him. She typically sleeps the duration.

It was 6pm and I was to start dinner so I could eat and package up some for Jeff. He wasn’t to get home until 7pm this particularly Monday when we would quickly make the baby exchange, hand off dinner, and send him on his way whilst ladies arrive. No prob.  So…it is 6pm I am hungry, Jeff will be hungry, Elsa is growing hungry. I don’t feel particularly overwhelmed, just wearied.  I realize I have not prayed at all that day, nor prepared for my group, nor am I feeling the mental acuity to shoot from the hip. Sluggish I place veggies on the chopping board.

Elsa’s hunger grows.

Somehow I have done nothing but it is now 6:20. Veggies still whole and I am falling into pieces.  I realize my thirst and grab a glass, holding it to the Brita well on our countertop…empty. 

Body and soul. 

Simultaneously I realize I have not lit our Lenten candles for the evening. I quickly light them all reminding me of the many days now past in this season where I have not celebrated. I have not celebrated.

Elsa vocalizes her hunger pangs and I attempt to soothe her with plastic visual. Empty attempts…she wants the real thing.

And so do I.

I stand up to the chopping board with knife in hand and see it is more than veggies that must be cut. These moments do not keep me weary, I do. The cutting I must do is through the false hope that another moment will bring relief, another place will offer respite,  the lie that God cannot refresh me here.

Slice.

This moment is where I begin my discipline of celebration. Knife is laid on chopping board and my heart is cut open…thank you God for this very moment. You are present. You are here. These moments do not keep me from you…I do.

My thirst still calls and so I attend. Grabbing the Word and the babe I sit to feed us both. Jesus encounters the woman at the well in John 4, and I encounter Jesus. 

In the flickering light I remember all moments are places to encounter. I can celebrate right here. I breathe deep and feast without dinner made. Elsa and I. She rests content and I remember through her how good our Heavenly Father must be, He will give us all we need. 

6:50pm, two arrive together early. I am making scrambled eggs for my own dinner now as they hold Elsa. Daddy enters, I hand off babe and cash… “enjoy dinner out, your first of many daddy daughter dates”.  

The group begins in candle light and silence… and us ladies, we drink together from the Well that never runs dry. 

This Moment

Writing…paused…sweet pea awoke after just two hour nap today.  So, in the spirit of my Lenten discipline of celebration…I lay down my initial bummed-out feeling that I cannot finish the post I started writing and I turn to celebration…this very moment. A sweet infant smile greets me early and I am turned toward celebration, away from my own desires and tell myself this moment, in this moment is God present and in this moment, whatever it may be, this moment I am to celebrate. Thank you Lord, for this moment. I will recall the Psalm I seek to memorize during this season. Join me if you like. Psalm 96, just one verse today:

Oh, sing to the Lord a new song;

Sing to the Lord, all the earth!

It is no trite thing to awaken our souls in whatever moment we find ourselves in and focus on Christ. There will be little deaths to die every day…sometimes major, sometimes minor…today it is simply the plan I had of long enjoyable time to write. But this moment is the one for which I am called to thank the Lord. To celebrate the life I have in Christ. And so, Lord, my days are Your days. Help me die as many deaths as I must each day that joy and life may replace all of the me that I stuff myself with. Fill me up, God. 

This Quotidian Life

Four week before Elsa was born we made the leap-off-the-edge-of-the-cliff decision that I would stay home with her. The numbers didn’t “work” for me to remain in a part-time job and the potential stress levels for me seemed unattractive to the health of our family unit. So, I became the “stay-at-home mom.”  Such a loaded phrase in this culture.

There is ambivalence around this phrase, this vocation, for me. Our culture compounds this with tough mixed messages throughout the journey into motherhood and beyond.  Pregnancy is super-chic and all the rage in Hollywood and the magazines about the “stars”. There are more websites than a woman could peruse in 9 months of waiting. So many forums with ideas, advice, and don’t forget the insider acronyms! (DS= dear son, DD= dear daughter, TTC= trying to conceive, and the list goes oooooooon within that fascinating subculture).   An odd obsession with pregnancy in a culture that does not value life, in my humble opinion. But off the soap box. Once born, you best get your body back into shape and shape up into the supermom of being able to do it all. This includes having a body that bears no marks of every having carried a child, sad pressure. Then there is the way you had your baby (home or hospital)…and the judgment that can come from either side of that persuasion. How you diaper your child shows us how much you care about the earth and therefore how much you should be respected. And gasp…do you bottle or breastfeed? I won’t even go there.

And this is just the beginning of the child’s life.

I don’t bring up all this to give my opinions or even my choices within them, I am making my own choices about these issues and I know there are consequences/benefits depending on what is chosen, but I also carry a good bit of freedom within my convictions about the choices of others. I bring all this up to say there is a lot of pressure on moms these days in our culture. There was a day, not so long ago in human history, when the only choice was birthing at home, cloth diapers, and breastfeeding…and these women’s didn’t feel the pressures women do today with the myriad of choices. 

Now even the baby is a choice.

I don’t rattle off this list to point directly to that, but I bring it up to say this is a difficult place to live within so many choices, and thereby so many ways to judge and be judged by others!  Recently in a mom’s group I am in we were discussing the issue of choice and a friend of my who recently had her second baby, has a numerous advanced degrees, and is trying to find her way in this culture said exasperated…  sometimes I wish I lived in a time when there were less choices, where my path was laid out and expected, I think it would be easier than to have these choices, sometimes it feels like a curse.  This is a competent woman, but tired. And I pray for her as she figures out her own way in this season of her life.

That was all just random commentary on the state of momma-hood in our culture and the many strange decisions woman face these days.  My desire is that mommas everywhere could support one another as we navigate the deep transformation that can occur in motherhood when enter into our vocation.

I am a momma and I am becoming a momma. I think that it the nature of the gig. This appears to be an ever-evolving experiment within my own convictions of what is means to live out my vocation as a momma. Trial, error, victory!, trial, victory!, error, error, error…and so it goes. This is no small task forming a soul.  Being home has given me a lot of time to consider what this means.  Well, right now I am at Caribou on my mommy’s morning out having time to think, read, and pray about my vocation. I actually made a list of things to think about when I have time… (yes, a list of things to think about when I have time!) if that doesn’t say enough about being the mom of young babes! J But if this is to be my vocation how will I enter into it. I have found great resources these last months in the form of books and others to help inform my thinking.

Full transparency: I began this journey both excited about being with my babe, and babes to come…but also feeling a bit embarrassed. I felt I had to justify my decision for staying home to everyone who asked…are you just staying home with her? …Yes…just staying home…The confusing messages… continue. Being a mother is noble and great and worthy and the most important job in the world….but is that all you do? Sheesh.  

My inner dialogue goes something like this: Am I wasting my brain?  What about the things I feel called to do, sincerely? Will I get bored? How will I be perceived? (ever approval-seeking)...and my favorite from well-meaning folk: Why did you go to college? (as if mother’s don’t need intelligence!?!).  So I am on a journey to understand motherhood in its many facets.  I desire to live fully into this vocation and open myself to its complexity. I desire to reclaim the dignity of this quotidian life in a way that my culture-at-large doesn’t acknowledge exists (sidenote: I write knowing full-well many of gone before me and done this well, I am not reinventing the wheel, just exploring it’s beauty).  I have so much I want to write about this as I process. I began weeks ago jumping into a study of Proverbs 31 and was pleasantly surprised by this capable woman. This woman managed her home and other properties, taught, sold goods, oversaw the finances of her home, loved the needy of soul, served the poor…she oversaw her home with great dignity and was awake to the world around her!  She did not turn a blind eye to the needs of those around her in order to shelter her home from the reality of pain, but engaged her home and her world. I have so much more I will write about this, I have been inspired.  I have also been reading books by both women and men honoring the high calling of motherhood and the deeply spiritual calling that it is.  I came across this quote by G.K. Chesterton in a writing of his (yes, a man J) called “What’s Wrong With the World” (read it for free here), I have not read it all, but I plan to :

“How can it be a large career to tell other people’s children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell ones’ own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone?”

Nintendo

Short on time for a post this Friday but thankfully Jeff pulls through with a picture for me that I have decided to post. He is very hard at work…as you can tell J

REPOST: "Dust" from 3/09/111, Ash Wednesday 2011

Ash Wednesday is a day I have been looking forward to for a while now. Since becoming an Anglican and following the church calendar I have found anticipation grows in me for days which I would have passed over without knowing millions were observing. 

My first Ash Wednesday service, just last year, was almost magical. We showed up at the 7am service for the early birds who needed to go to work. Following the ancient liturgy we begin with a silent processional. Our priests, deacons, and the altar now draped in purple for the Lenten season. My senses engaged. We read Scriptures, hear a message, and participate in the Eucharist like any other service, but this one we have the imposition of ashes on our forehead.  Before the Great Litany we line up before about 6 different ministers giving the ashes. One by one each person steps up to a minister. The ashes, which are burned palms leaves from last year’s Palm Sunday celebration, are made into a cross on the forehead of each person while the minister says “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3:19). “Repent and believe the Gospel” (Mark 1:15). 

I tend to sit up front because I like to see everything, so like last year, today I was one of the first to receive the imposition of ashes. Walking back to my seat I sit down and hear only the sound of feet walking and the whispers of every minister “Remember that you are dust…and to dust you shall return”.  A reminder I have not so soon needed.  Young and old alike receive the imposition. I watched a baby receive the ashes as warm, unexpected tears rolled down my cheeks.  It’s a sober call…my life is not my own, and neither are the lives around me. All things I have are from God, and to Him all things will return.   

Oh, I remember.

As is my new custom, I have spent my second liturgical year praying about what I shall focus on for this Lenten season. From what would God call me to repent? Where do I need deep transformation in my life right now? I began this last year and the simplicity of the focus didn’t match the power with which it transformed me.  Though it was a season of much confession, prayer, and seeing parts of me for what they truly were. It was a season of refreshing and cleansing. And by Easter Sunday, the power of the resurrection was filling my heart with joy and genuine transformation. I want to find God in each season, but Lent is a special season for me.  I need a time to remember that I am dust and that my sin is lethal. I know that I cannot repeat last year, nor would that do me any good, but I can seek God the same and see what His heart desires this Lenten season. 

In this spirit I have been praying this last week “God, what shall I focus on this year, where do I need to repent in my life?”  [repent simply means to turn around, from what do I need to turn around from and go the other direction? Jealous, rage, envy, unkindness…this list could never end].  I felt the Lord nudging me in a direction that I did not see coming. Something I felt was too simple. I know it is a sinful disposition I can have, but it still felt simple.  Like not too big of a deal. I continued to pray about this issue and ask God if this is really what He wanted me to seek Him about during Lent. I even shared it with Jeff over dinner the other day. Though I was embarrassed as I spoke, it still felt too “simple” of a sin. When I chose to focus on a sin during Lent I also allow God to speak to me about penance in this particular area of my heart. Not penance in the hurt oneself, masochistic sort of way, but in a way of turning (repenting) from the way I have always chosen to do – or not do – something. I turn from one thing and simultaneously turn toward another.  It can be quite powerful.

Well, I settled on my “simple” sin and trusted God that this was Him speaking. Sometime it just feels clear when God speaks and sometimes feel like my best guess. This time it was the latter.  Okay, so jump back now to the service this morning. “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return. Repent and believe the Gospel.” I am watching everyone receive the imposition of ashes. I watch the baby receive the ashes. I remember the fragility of life. But now I remember more than just the fragility. I remember that sin=death. I feel the sorrow of death right now. I know that Jonan did not die because of a particular sin of Jeff or I, but because of sin in the world. Sin is brokenness. The Scriptures say death entered the world through sin (Romans 5:12).  Things were perfect back in the day. Remember the whole Adam and Eve thing? Life, freedom, love, all their needs met. Fulfilling relationships, closeness with God. They had it all. Then the lack of trust in God led them to sin, and at that moment death entered the scene. Nothing would be the same. Curses on the earth, on the people, on our work and our relationships. We are experiencing the effects of this now. There is still beauty and life and goodness. But we feel the effects of sin. We would have never known death had there not been sin. We would have never known pain, sorrow, broken relationships, unfulfilled longings, distance from God. Sin sucks. And we have needed a Redeemer for good reason!

So I sat there as these unexpected, warm tears roll down my face watching everyone receive the ashes and think to myself again….”simple” sin? Kimberly, is there such a thing? What kind of theology is that? Are not small jealousies, slight injustices, minor envies, not finding time to love… all destructive? Who is this Liar that tries to tell me that I can have a “simple” sin which are not worth my attention?  Sin is the cause of death, is it not? Sin destroys (relationships, homes, finances, etc.) does it not? Sin keeps us from God, does it not? And as I posted last time, He is the fulfillment of our lives. The only Reality, Clarity, and Giver of all good things. Thankfully He uses sin to bring us toward Himself. But the bottom line is that sin sucks. And it is my enemy even though I justify it effects and whisk away consequences.

Death was never part of the original storyline, but God is the Redeemer of all things. So this Lenten season I pray nothing keeps us from God. And that grace and simplicity fill our lives. Even when there are “big” sins which need confession and repentance and much healing, I pray the grace and simplicity of repentance. May this season remind us of what is truly important as we travel the way to the cross of Christ and eventually toward resurrection. Life used to be all there was, but now death comes before Life. In remembering that I am dust may I find strength to die small deaths each day that I may truly live. For if I die with Christ I have eternal Life in Him. 

The Unforced Rhythms of Grace

Have you ever been weary? Are you today? Think you may ever be in the future? Read on…

Today I find myself weary, and have been so for days. Tired seems to be just physical; foggy, well, that seems more mental; but weary seems to encompass mind, body, and soul. And that is what I have been feeling. Certainly the new demands of an ever-changing baby girl contribute to such state.  Trying to keep up on the important relationships adds to it, as well as keeping up on the house, my own exercise routine (did I say routine? I meant random attempts to exercise, routine would be way too wonderful), keep my family fed, having clean clothes available, the errands that don’t seem to end, refiguring the finances...again this month. It all adds up. Somewhere along the way regular life that I generally enjoy becomes laborious. Lay-bore-eee-us.  Arduous. That which is often enjoyable and life-giving (cooking, friendships, preparing for a party) become big deals. Bigger than life deals. I want to go to Caribou, get a drink loaded with sugar and chocolate and stare out a window for two hours and just check out. Check. Out.

Sometimes checking out can be helpful. Sometimes.  Offering us the slowness we need to then figure what is good for our souls. But most times it is not checking-out for which our soul is longing… for which my soul is longing.  Sugar and chocolate do seem to offer a sweet relief from the moment of stress I feel, or the weariness I am experiencing from deep within, but after years of attempting to sooth my soul with such things I know better. And that thing can be different depending on the season of the year, the nature of the weariness, the people around me. My “chocolate” may be blaming my husband unnecessarily for random things, a movie, just not doing what needs to be done around the house. Or most recently, just whining. Just good ol’ fashioned, annoying, whining. I am tired. I forget my place to get un-wearied and so I feel stuck. I don’t literally forget, but I resist with a sort of amnesia as if I have never been refreshed by the presence of the One True God. See, I have. I know how that presence feels. I know when I encounter God, the Reality who created me and knows what I need more than I do, that I find peace. I find the rest I need. 

He demands all of me. Yet somehow He demands less of me than I demand of myself.

Thankfully this morning, my soul remembers that for which it truly longs. I read the words of Jesus, written my Matthew a couple thousand years ago, in The Message translation:

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me- watch how I do it. learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." 

So I stop the flurry of doing and I rest. I use my body to stop and thus help my soul follow…not a checking out, but an entering-in. I read Scripture and can’t stop it gives so much life.  I pray and I feel full. And I think I am okay, so I almost move back into more doing but I sense inside, from the God who promises to make His home within me… to rest more. Put on music, lay on the carpet and soak it in.

Stop. Receive. Rest.

I start with this song (not sure why the weird picture here): 

 I lay on the carpet and listen over and over.

I get up to walk away and everything inside says stay. linger. rest.

So I continue on: 

And then:

And I stand up to walk away. But there is more. I allow a weary smile to grow across my face and I enter joy that is there no matter how weary I feel today. And then that joy enters me.

Weary, I still am. Sleep, I still need. But my heart is closer to Home and I move into my day with joy and peace. Knowing the many forms of “chocolate” calling to me are abated and I am at rest within. I can turn from whining or maybe secret pity or even over-achieving because I have something, Someone I turn toward, and He greets me with joy and grace.

Are you weary? 

The Lines Have Fallen

Lent is coming. That time of the church year when we prepare our hearts for Holy Week, remembering Christ’s death and resurrection.  It is forty days in length from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday (for those of you counting, you need to subtract all the Sundays; Sunday remains a day of celebrating the resurrection of Christ, even during the season of Lent).  People of many denominations observe lent in various manners. Our practice is to listen to what season our individual lives are in and join with God in whatever spiritual practice seems appropriates as opposed to following a mandated fasting or discipline from a priest or pastor (though there can be great value in communal fasting). 

Since last September I have been leading a women’s group in our home, although I would say I am more of the facilitator than leader, God the Holy Spirit really is the one leading us every week. We spend time weekly in silence together listening to God on one other’s behalf. It has proved to be a transformational time for all involved. Since Elsa was born I was on “maternity leave” so to speak and just began again this week.  We have begun our preparations for Lent. We are sharing where our lives are right now, discerning where God is intersecting them, and choosing our individual focus for this Lenten season (it begins next Wednesday, Feb. 22^nd, by the way).  We will each have our individual focus for this season, but we will be working that out in our lives within community together. We will help one another along when we get stuck, pray for one another, and encourage one another with Scripture and words. 

As I have joined the Anglican Church this practice has come alive to me in new ways. Two years ago was my first Lent with the Anglican Church. I was also in a Spiritual Direction Group (similar to the one I now facilitate).  I was able to share my life openly and they were able to speak to be truthfully and graciously (a most important combination! Grace without Truth is the path to heresy and lacks transformative power in our lives; Truth without Grace is harsh and judgmental. Both are most important.)  Within this group I found the accountability supportive and clarity with which others could see into me freeing. I could try to hide darker places within, but the group saw into me and spoke to me in love. We did this for one another. They also spoke to the beautiful places within, which I find many of us are just as likely to hide from…uncertain of the how to offer the best of ourselves to the world without pride or arrogance.  Community is good for these things. That Lenten season of 2010 proved to be transformational for me. 

Fast forward to Lent 2011, I was not in the group; I was on my own but was certain of my focus. I made confession to a priest and was greeted with such grace and kindness. It surprises me every time. The Lenten season offered time to turn away from that and turn toward replacing that with something else as I sought God to change my heart.  That time continues to be like a seed planted, growing over time into a place that will bear fruit more and more over the years. However, it lacked what the previous year had…

Community.

So, here I am this year facilitating a group so that we can all walk together toward that which we are being called to by God. It is different for each of the women in the group, but the same God is Lord of us all and we will walk together toward Him together.

My struggle as I approach this Lenten season 2012 has been the uncertainty of which spiritual discipline will I put in place in my life.  I have not felt any particular direction or thing to turn away from, and I have been a bit sad.  I long for that experience of turning toward God in a new way and getting to know Him more. I was beginning to feel I may miss out.  This week in our group we each shared a snapshot of where our lives are.  I was the last to share and the best thing I could come up with was that my “lines have fallen in pleasant places.”  I have been walking such a fire-filled road for so many years, crises after crises around each turn.  And now I am in a place of good. No major crisis for the season. I am blessed on the outside (I say outside, as I would argue, and believe I held onto the fact, that I was always blessed internally. God was always present to me and I knew it. Deeply. He never abandoned me and I knew it. Deeply. ) Now, however, my days are pleasant. I am able to remain with my beautiful daughter day after day attending to the formation of this sweet soul.  My husband has a job. We love where we live. We are engaged in our church and able to give after so much time of receiving (both important to the healing of one’s soul).  We have all the food we need. I have a place to wash our clothes. We are warm in the cold months. We have wonderful friends around us. I have energy to engage relationships.  Spring is here already within our home.  King David’s words come to mind:

The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup;

You hold my lot.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

Indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

                                                                                                Psalm 16:5-6

The Lord has always been my chosen portion, and I have always had the beautiful inheritance, the hope of heaven. But the lines have not always fallen in pleasant places. Meaning, in King David’s time, that the boundary lines of his land are great. He has a full life. He enjoys what he has been given.  My lines have been blurred and moved around these past years. I felt uncertainty about so many things. But now, my lines have fallen in pleasant places.

As I shared this with my group whining (well, not really) about how I felt so filled up that I had no idea where my focus, my spiritual discipline, should be for Lent. One woman said “Well, that seems like a great time for worship.”  I laughed the truthful simplicity of her statement. True, what a great discipline to turn toward for this season. Specifically, I will be practicing the discipline of Celebration.  What? You think that is not a real discipline because it is just sounds too great? Me, too J But the reality is Scripture is full of Celebration. It is essential to the health of our inner life. Our group is using the Spiritual Disciplines Handbook by Adele Ahlberg Calhoun as our guide (I highly recommend having this one on your shelf). There are 64 different disciplines in this book. Done with the right spirit inside, they all bring life within.  I am excited to write more about spiritual disciplines in the next week!

Lent is not just about giving up [fill in the blank], though at times it is. But sometimes it is about adding [fill in the blank]. Never a dull day following Christ.  Ordinary days…certainly…but never dull.

Please join me through Lent as I enter the discipline of Celebration beginning Ash Wednesday.

What are you turning from or turning toward during this Lenten season? I would love to hear. 

Happy Valentine's Day

I have some writing brewing within, but have not made the time to put it down just yet. However, Valentine’s Day calls for a post, so today will be a special highlight on the new little love of my life.  We have been told she is quite an expressive little one, our Elsa, and we think so as well. So I went through the pictures on my phone and pulled off the ones with various expressions. She has so many more, but for now here’s the random line-up: 

this is weird, but I will play along daddy

I am a balding old man

you are freakin' me out

.....

why does mom dress me up like fruit...waaa

i am watching you (she gives us this one a lot!)

(I don't know how to label this one, any ideas?)

I am grumpy and my eyebrows will let you know that

more sideways eyes (and what's that blue hue?)

life is good

...say what?...

(I know, every baby yawns, but its still cute)

who knew my chin could do this!?

I am just really, crazy adorable

Sick & Sleeping

The exciting title of this post is exactly why I have not posted in a while…and will likely be interesting to grandparents and aunties only.  Elsa got sick at the end of last week and kindly passed that along to me by the next day. We all laid around all weekend, having an enjoyable pajama weekend together. I wasn’t too bad, but she was coughing a lot. We had to use that awful nose aspirator to suck that nasty stuff out of her sinuses. I am glad she does not have memory of life at this point; she would surely hate me forever. She despises that thing, as I imagine most infants do.

I thought we were both on the up and up, but alas, yesterday we began downhill again. Sore throat for me, headache, achy all over. Today, worse.  I really hope she does not feel as I do. But those little coughs from such a little person do break my heart. I cannot imagine mommies and daddies that must watch their children suffer worse things. How their heart must break into tiny pieces with every wince or cry, needle or surgery. And ne'er forget those mommas who must watch their babes pang with hunger. 

Oh, Lord, have mercy….

Fortunate we are to just have coughs and sniffles, sore throats and headaches.  Whatever it is she is feeling she wants momma all the time. She snuggles a lot when she is sick. I resigned my days to getting nothing done (yes, I am a bad sick person, I have a difficult time resting, I try to sleep but just lay their awake…I don’t know…). So I get little accomplished, except being a good momma to a sick babe. No regret.  For her afternoon nap sick sweetie would not let me put her down, so I wrapped her up in the Moby and she slept for 2 ½ hours all snugged up next to me.

This this morning I awoke to her squirming around, not sleeping well. But this girl, she’s got it goin’ on. Check out this bootie (and that is a not cloth diapers under there):

I am pretty sure one could ski off that thing if thing if small enough.  But anyways, here we are, sick again at home. Thankful for warmth inside and sunshine outside. I may feel a bit cooped up and as the ol' saying goes "sick and tired of being sick and tired", but could anything Elsa be as important as her today?  ;-)

I am reminded these days of the quote by Charles Kingsley:

“Thank God every morning when you get up, that you have something to do that day which must be done…”

Indeed. Thank you, Lord.