It’s crazy how much I miss blogging sometimes. So very much has happened in the last few months, and I find myself writing posts in my head, but they never get to the blog itself. And since my current blog isn’t accesible to anyone not on my personal computer, well, it’s hard to motivate myself to put it down.
But I miss it.
So I’m back. I think…I will always be back. No matter how long the break. The writing happens, even if it doesn’t show up here. And eventually, it starts to show up here, too. So, I guess that’s a good thing.
The kids are doing well. Megan is now 3. Crazy. I was reading old posts and it’s funny how much of the days you forget in the living of them. Another good reason to keep coming back, I think. But anyway, Megan is 3. She had a Tinkerbell party, which she loved. The cake turned out better than I thought it would. She got just perfect presents…I think she (and the twins) have played regularly with every toy she received. So yay!
Like the twins before her, the arrival of her third birthday meant that her pacifiers went “poof” and that was a hard transition for her. She still misses them, I think. So her sleeping hasn’t been quite as good recently. Not that any of my kids but Erin actually sleep well. She’s a rockstar sleeper still, but the other three…yikes! One of these days I am so looking forward to an entire night’s sleep. Hours and hours. All at once. Uninterrupted.
It’s like a dream.
Of course, sleeping will happen again one day. And that’s good, though it will also signal the change of another parenting season. Timmy will turn 10 months tomorrow. He’s a doll baby, still. (Except for the sleeping thing). I sold most of his baby stuff (diaper champ, changing pad, baby swing, extra pack-n-play, exersaucer, etc) at the Twin Sale at the beginning of the month. And while it feels so good not to have the extra clutter in our tiny space, I did recognize the end of the era. All those things we bought before the twins were born. When we were just starting to be the parents of babies. And now, our last baby is outgrowing all those things. And he will only get bigger and out grow more things. And we will quickly be parents of children, not babies. How fast 5 years goes by, right?
And I’m not sorry. I am done having kids. If Jesus were to open the hearts and doors for adoption or fostering, I’d be open for that. But bearing children…nope, I’m good. But that means that we are admitting the end of the era where we will bring little people into the world and that we are on the very edge of the new one where we start school and grow up and face new adventures together. It is right. It is good. And it is bittersweet. But I want to move forward well. Grateful for the years we’ve had so far and open to what the coming years hold. Yes, that will be a good thing.
Erin is quickly turning into a little lady for sure. She’s helpful and loves to be noticed. I do not notice her enough in the frenetic-ness of our days. I need to stop and look her in those giant blue eyes more often. I know I do. Still, she loves to write. She “read” her first words the other day. She’d written out, as I spelled them for her, the words “feel better soon.” Then she went back over them, sounding out the letters, her first real attempt at reading. It was so fun to watch. So very fun.
And it thrilled my very heart to see, a couple of weeks ago, Erin and Alex singing along at church to the Christ Tomlin song, Bless the Lord, O My Soul. They love that song. They know the words. They sing along. Oh, Jesus, please bless the words and lessons, the Bible and Spirit, that are seeping into their hearts. Chase them down and call them to you and let them love you, Jesus, above all things. Even above me. Especially above me.
Alex has an impressive imagination still. Whatever concerns him in “this world,” he fixes in New Alex’s world…his imaginary “brother” whose presence gives him great comfort. He’s so very easily afraid of the bad things that could happen. He can imagine out from what you tell him to the “what could be” and he gets afraid. The other night, he was frantic because the dirt specks in the tub would be washed down the drain and he couldn’t bear the thought that they would have to suffer that. Eric did his best to catch them for and with him, but he was still upset at the ones that were escaping their reach. At one point, in absolute tears, he yelled, “I’m freaking out here!” And it was funny and heart-breaking all at once. What a heart. It’s going to be so easily broken. And watching him be bruised will be so hard for me. But Jesus, take that tender heart and keep me from squashing it and let it be consumed with you and the hurts of others that he moves on their behalf to lead them to you, the only healer of all our broken hearts.
I still have no sense of purpose here or sense of timing for building a house or when Eric might leave Lakeshore or what God intends to do with us and through use all the way out here. But I’m still here. And I’m still seeking. And still drowning in our daily-life. And learning to choose thankful and choose against complaining. And hoping that the little suffering that is this season will reap eternal glory for Him and beauty and full-blessings for us. And what is faith but the certainty of things not seen.
And so I hope, in faith.
