~ Eight Years Ago

Part 1

We had already waited what seemed like a lifetime. It felt like the day would never arrive. When it did, we waited at gate B like they told us.

The doors opened and people from all over the world came out. And we waited and waited and waited some more. Nobody came. What if you hadn't been on the plane? We decided to take matters into our own hands, to go look for you. And then I spotted you, down the terminal, in her arms. You were strapped to her chest, and she was holding you tight.

I knew immediately which one she was holding. I had stared at those faces for months, memorized those eyes and those lips. We approached her, but she could not speak our language.

We didn't need words.

I showed her your picture. She smiled, unstrapped you from the carrier and placed you in my arms.

Ellis

I melted.

It was that divine moment when two hearts are joined forever - the mommy and the child: an I'm-going-to-love-you-forever moment.

I lifted you in the air and you flashed that sweet smile - the same one I see every moment of everyday.

You were finally home.

Ellis

Part 2

We were worried.

There should have been two babies. Where were you? Had they not put you on the plane? We tried to ask her where you were. We pointed to your picture. She pointed toward door A and Daddy went looking.

After what seemed like forever, she came walking toward us. Your host. Your protector. She was wearing you in a pack and she looked a bit flustered.

They had come through the wrong door at customs, and she had gone to find someone who could speak her language.

They had another plane to catch. It was a flurry of commotion. I handed your brother to your Dad. (There was no way he was getting you first!) She unlatched the carrier and placed you in my arms. We led her to her travelling companion, handed them flowers to say thank you for transporting these two precious treasures, and they were off.

I knelt down so I could look at you. There you were in the flesh. You looked at me with those questioning eyes (the same way you do so often now), and I promised you forever. I touched your skin and kissed your sweet face and I inhaled completeness.

You were worth the wait.

Aidan

Eight years ago today, we became a family. God intended it, planned it before you were even formed, before the foundations of the world.

How amazing are His plans . How humbled and grateful are we.

Happy Family Day, Ellis and Aidan.

We love you.

Forever!

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."

~ Psalm 139:13-17 ~

~ Washed Clean

I had a little talk with the Lord this morning.

I reminded Him that it was April.

For a brief moment, I wondered if He forgot.

We were caught a little off guard.

In the night, it seems He had decided to spread that soft white blanket once again.

The boys scrambled to find snow pants and boots, hats and mittens that had been shoved away in favor of jackets and flip flops.

I was a little confused!

I mean, what good could possibly come from this set back?

So I did what I always do when I can't make sense of things or I'm just a little miffed.

I went for a drive.

It seems I wasn't the only one perplexed.

All I could think about was how, just four days ago, I was in Tennessee where it was really spring, where God had used every color imaginable to display His artistry.

Why do we only get white?

And then as I was driving, a blue bird flew in front of me. I've never seen a bluebird up north, and I almost went in the ditch. It was the most vivid shade of blue. If you've never seen a bluebird against the backdrop of a snowy day, you can't really appreciate the depth of it's color.

As I thought about the snow and the blinding whiteness all around me, I thought about Easter. We just came through a weekend of remembering -

His sacrifice

His hands and feet nailed

His side pierced

His blood trickling, spilling, flowing

down the cross,

puddling on the ground,

covering us,

covering our sins

past, present and future.

And in that moment when He breathed His last breath, He made a way for us to be cleansed,

to be seen as pure,

to be washed white as snow.

Perhaps the white today is to remind me:

~ how brilliant life can be when you view it against the backdrop of God's grace,

~ how you can see life in a vibrant, new way once you know you are forgiven,

~ how stunning His plans are when you find your purpose in Him,

~ how alive you really are when you have died to self

~ how colorful your days can be when you are washed white as snow!

"Though your sins are like scarlet,

they shall be as white as snow."

Isaiah 1:18

Walk with Him today with Ann @ Holy Experience.

~ Happy Easter

Happy Easter

from our family to yours

~ Jesus Understands

I felt like I was interrupting a private conversation.

I didn't mean to.

She had asked for help with her computer.

I was just straightening her documents,

giving her files some structure so she could find things.

I would click, read a bit and determine the best place to file it away.

I was almost finished when it happened.

I could not tell by the document title where it should go,

so I opened it.

I began to read, amazed how the words flowed.

It was clear that this was no ordinary document.

These were grief words, from one too young to know such pain.

They were the opening up and the pouring out of a heart full of confusion and hurt.

They were words from a son to a father who had chosen, in one moment with one act, to stop being a dad, to stop living.

It was a one-sided conversation, full of questions - questions His dad will never be able to be answer.

Feeling like I was over-stepping my boundaries, I stopped reading and closed the document.

My mind went back to the day we had gotten the news.

I grieved for this young man all over again.

I remember calling my mom. I knew she would understand.

She was 13 when she lost her hero, her protector, her daddy.

Again, too young to have to navigate the waters of agony and grief.

I remember her exact words.

"You tell that young man that when he thinks no one else can understand what he is going through, Jesus understands."

She had experienced it, found it to be true.

She had talked to Jesus when there hadn't been anyone who could give her any answers or understand the depth of her grief.

Jesus understands.

As I think about her words again this week as I prepare for Easter, I am reminded of His suffering:

~ His agony in the garden

"My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death." (Mark 14:34)

~ the betrayal by those He loved

"Then everyone deserted Him and fled." (Mark 14:50)

~ the false accusations

"They all condemned Him as worthy of death." (Mark 14:64)

~ the mocking & humiliation

"And when they had mocked Him...they led Him out to crucify Him." (Mark 15:20)

~ the Father turning His face away

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34)

~ The excruciating pain

from the fists,

the taunts,

the scourge,

the thorns,

the nails,

the spear.

If anyone understands, He does!

No matter what we face, no matter what this world throws at us,

we are never alone.

There is one who knows our hurt, our anger, our pain.

Jesus understands. Easter makes it clear!

I'm preparing for Easter with Ann @ Holy Experience.

Thursday's Treasures

The turning of the clocks forward has set imaginations and bodies free.

Friends have come to play and to stay and to celebrate this day of firsts.

We lift our faces and soak up every extra second of daylight.

Dinner is postponed.

Why hurry?

Our first robin.

Bikes are scattered along the drive, yard is strewn with every kind of ball imaginable, and patio is covered with two-year-old masterpieces.

His first sidewalk chalk.

The mulch pile is the perfect stage for king of the mountain.

Someone discovers a rope and imaginations run wild.

My big ol' maple tree becomes a jungle gym.

The grill is sizzling with the first of the season's barbeques - beef tenderloin served with Orzo and portabella mushrooms.

Go here for orzo recipe. Yummy!

I stand in my kitchen, door wide open, finishing the meal and listening to the laughter of my children and their friends.

Finally, we call them to the table, six hungry boys. I revel in the sheer joy of watching them fill plates, famished from fresh air, sunshine, imagination. and used up energy.

One says, "My mom doesn't cook like this" as he asks us to please pass the orzo. Another smiles and sighs as he starts on his fourth helping of tenderloin.

Good byes are said, teeth are brushed, and lights are put out. There is still school tomorrow, and although one of the boys comments that tonight feels like summer, there is snow in tomorrow's forecast.

The boys sleep. Hubby "breathes deeply" on the couch. I reflect on the offerings and the realities of my day:

...having unexpected company and having more than enough

...having land for the children to roam

...sharing life and table with friends

...having a table surrounded with healthy boys with healthy appetites

...having a husband who can grill like nobody's business

...enjoying a brief respite from the cold

...watching the sun linger in the evening sky just a little longer

...these are the drippings of grace in my life today.

A Mommy Must Brag

Tonight, I am a proud mom.

My oldest sacrificed one of his last basketball games of the season to compete in a city-wide math competition sponsored by our local newspaper and high school.

It was a competition for 6th, 7th, and 8th graders from all the middle schools in our city. They give awards to the top twenty students in each grade as well as the winning school.

My son placed thirteenth in the city for 6th graders, and one of his best friends won the first place award.

At the end of the night, they announce the school with the most points, and we were all thrilled when our school took first place.

After the contest, we went out for ice cream to celebrate his accomplishment. We're all going to bed with little smiles on our faces tonight.

~ Lifelong Friendship

It was January. He answered the phone, said my name and then asked,"Is that you?" His voice brought back a flood of memories. I asked if she was there, and when I heard her voice, it was as if all the years came barreling into focus: the elementary years of playing at her house (the house that is gone now), the jr. & sr. high years of choir trips, boys, slumber parties and football games and even the brief college years full of dorm life, concerts, etc... It was a lifetime ago and somehow, just yesterday.

It had been probably twenty years since we'd last spoken, and yet, it was comfortable, familiar. We shared about our lives. We crammed as much of the twenty years as possible into a ten minute phone call. She had married her high school sweet heart (sweet Richard). I had married my college sweetheart. She asked about my family. I asked about England, and work and finding each other. The time went much too quickly to share a lifetime of memories, to answer years of questions. I wondered how long it would be before we talked again. After all, she lives about as far south as you can get. I live almost to the top of the world (not really).

Today, she sent a note. "I'm in (town)." Of course, she didn't mean my town. She meant my hometown. The place I grew up. The place we grew up together. She's there until May. I'm going in ten days. The distance between Texas and Wisconsin just got very small. I'll do what I always do when I'm there. I'll travel old roads full of memories, loaded with the stories of my childhood. I'll show my children my favorite places, and I'll tell them for the hundredth time, "That's where I went to school." I'll search in the windows of passing cars for a familiar face and wonder where the time and the people went. But this time, this trip, I will hug an old friend, cram some more of the twenty years into a few brief minutes, and smile as the years and distance fade away, if only for that moment.

Today, I'm unwrapping the gift of lifelong friendship at Chatting with the Sky.