Hands

Today while driving Claire to dance class, I found myself unexpectedly choked up in tears.

She was holding my hand, and then started to feel my bones and look at my fingernails. She was pushing the skin together (“I’m making your skin have wrinkles, Mom.”). 

I found myself thinking—and I told her about—how I used to play with my dad’s hands when I was a little girl. The veins in his hands would sometimes get big—like mine sometimes do—and I loved to sit by him and push them around, play with them. 

At the same time, Claire and I were listening to a song in the car by Lori McKenna that I love titled “You Won’t Even Know I’m Gone,” and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. It’s a song about a mother who’s preparing so that when she’s away, her children won’t notice her absence.

“I pray that every prayer I pray will reach you, every wish I make will keep you safe and warm.

And may God forgive the things I do that put one mile between me and you—

To thine own self be true, to thine own self be true.”

That is a prayer I hold for my children, and it’s probably dad’s prayer as he cheers us on from where he is.

And it is in these little things that I find him—the smell of pie baking in my kitchen, the feel of dirt on my fingers as I plant geraniums, a particular hymn, the way I rock a baby, a favorite carol, a late night grocery store run. He is with me when I rake leaves and make apple butter in the fall, as I listen to conference, when I carefully place years of tradition on my Christmas tree. I could go on and on.

Dad, I do feel your absence.

But you are also here every day and I love your hands and the ways they were used—your talents, your hugs, your time, your service—to bring so much love and goodness to my life and the lives of others.

You are in us and through us and a part of us.

Car Talk

Tonight I was thinking again about something Claire said to me last year when we were driving to dance class.

We were listening to Drew Holcomb's song "Wild World," a favorite of mine.

And there's a lyric in the second verse that goes like this:

"Whether or not you pray, black or white, straight or gay,

You still deserve the love of your neighbor."

Well. 

We're driving along and we come to that part of the song.

And as soon as those words are out, Claire, without skipping a beat, 

said out loud, with emphasis:

"Of COURSE you do!"

I love that she said those words, and I've thought about that little moment so many times.

I hope these four people in my care grow up to be good humans--people who treat others with kindness, respect, love, and compassion.

Letter Writing on Thursday

Last weekend the kids and I drove to Southern Utah to spend a couple of days at a friend's parents' ranch.

Can I just say how much I love that wide open, rugged landscape? I felt so happy and light as we drove along. 

I've got the West in my blood and bones.
(I also heart this picture of Mia.)

And every time I travel with these peeps, I'm amazed at how easy they are.

They read, sometimes we listen to audio books, we talk, listen to music, and sometimes we dance.
They are the best travelers.

While there, we rode 4-wheelers,

the kids got to help feed the cows,

and despite the fact that Lisa's mom has cancer and her hair just started falling out, she loved on all these kids and taught mine how to ride the 4-wheelers on their own.

Coop shot a little bird when the boys were out on the 4-wheeler by themselves. He and Benj pulled off the wings and feathers, cut it open, salvaged the meat, grilled it up, and ate it.

 (Claire wanted to try it too.)

I want the kids to write thank you notes to send to Lisa's parents, so after Claire and I ate breakfast this morning, we worked together on hers. (I write the letters on one paper, and she copies them on her own.)

I've said this before, but 

I'm not sure there's anything I love more than learning-to-write-your-letters handwriting.

(See this post and this post and this post, for example.) 

I love her little tongue poking out in concentration, and the amaryllis on the table (see that little green spear just beginning to emerge from one of them!).

 After the note was done, we did her first reading lesson.

(I've taught all my people how to read, and I'm not about to miss out with this one--even if she does decide to do public school for kindergarten this year.)

Then we listened to some tunes, danced the "Boot Scoot N' Boogy" together in the front room, and I cleaned up the kitchen.

She's watching The Nutcracker now (her request--we have a DVD of it by the San Francisco Ballet), I'm sitting beside her on my bed about to plug in to work, and I've got meat thawing on the counter for meatloaf and baked potatoes for dinner.

I love these simple, quiet, ordinary moments of day-to-day life.

They are special.

Have I told you how much I love being a mom and how I wouldn't miss it for the world?

#truth

So far, this Thursday is giving me alllllllllll the good vibes.

Happy Thursday to you too--whoever you are, and wherever you are.

xoxo

These Boys & Me

Some of the happiest (for me, anyway) photos in my phone 

from the past couple of weeks come from New Year's Eve.

We'd eaten burgers

(hello pepper jelly, BBQ sauce, ketchup, mayo, mustard, pickles, avocado, broiled meat with salt and pepper, cheese -- just give me alllllllll the condiments),

 and Isaiah and I were sitting at the kitchen table putting together a 3-D puzzle of a German castle.

Benji was hanging out with us too, 

snapping photos, 

and making smack comments that made us laugh.

I love Isaiah's amused expression above (I don't know what I'm saying to him) and these two photos where he's laughing really hard.

We were working independently and together, and sometimes I called upon his brain to figure something out because I was lost.

#smartypants

As I've looked at these photos since, I've laughed out loud and smiled.

I love moments like these where things get goofy with my boys.

And that's all.

Christmas Blessing

I'm going to blog about the holiday at our house, but haven't gotten that far yet.

Late last night, at the end of a full Christmas Day, I scooped up this little person from off the boys' floor (she'd fallen asleep there while we were reading The Penderwicks on Gardam Street). 

I carried her into my room and laid her down on my bed where she always sleeps. And then I got in bed, pulled that peacefully-sleeping-bundle into my arms, and just held her for a few minutes. 

It was quiet and I felt peace and gratitude. 

I had only been lying there a second or two when I thought, 

"This. This moment of the whole day." 

And my next thought flowed to God:

"Thank you. Thank you for this."

xoxo

Rhyming

Claire and I got home from dropping the kids off to school on Thursday morning. 

We ate oatmeal together at the kitchen table, and then went outside to retrieve a couple of onions and some carrots from the garden that is almost over.

Came inside, chopped them up with celery, garlic, and red bell pepper, and then threw it all in the crockpot with split peas, water, spices, and chicken bouillon.

I made artisan bread dough and stuck it on the table to rise, and then cleaned up the kitchen.

Then Little Miss and I went into another room and began sorting clothes, a project I HATE.

Let me say this: hate is a strong word, but I am totally intentional here.

When I think of tasks I don't like, this ranks right up there.

When you have to pull down clothes, decide what you're keeping, what you're discarding, what's going to DI, and then clean out drawers to make room for the next size/season of clothes, get them washed, put them away, etc.?

Excuse my French, but it's a pain in the butt.

Flat. out. tedious.

(Ugh and eye roll.) 

What's a girl to do, though?

It had to be done.

So, there we were. I'm dumping out bags and sorting, Claire is oohing and ahhing over various articles and trying stuff on.

At one point she put on a shirt, and I think it might have been made out of wool.

(And here's where I insert that they've clearly been discussing rhyming in preschool and Claire is absolutely taking it to heart. I heard about it one day after I'd picked her up and we were driving home, and another time she ran into the laundry room to inform me that sandwich and witch rhyme. Indeed.

So, clearly, it's on the brain. Hers, that is.

She's trying words on for size.

And now, back to sorting.)

She puts on a shirt.

And I hear her say, kind of muttering to herself, completely oblivious to the expletive: 

"Well this shirt is
itchy bitchy."

And you know what?

I started to quietly laugh and didn't say a word.

And I'm still laughing.

Childhood is beautiful.

#ohmygoshiloveher

Summer Night Wonder

You take perfect when you can get it,

and I caught it and held on tight tonight.

We went for a walk at dusk.

The western sky was gorgeous: pink and golden and dappled, and there was a breeze.

My oldest son has been loving on me lately, and tonight he grabbed my hand when we started to walk and he didn't let go.

I looked at Claire's cute outfit and watched her cute little bum as she walked in typical determined fashion in front of us.

Mia wore the shirt she made recently and sparkly shoes.

The boys were barefoot.

We were sharing some of our favorite memories, and we ran through a whole stretch of sprinklers a few blocks from our house.

(See the sprinkles of water on my shirt and Claire's?)

And then.

We walked a half mile to the river and the boys were commenting on how much lower the water is compared to in the spring. 

All of us walked over to see, and Isaiah and I saw it at the same time.

A beaver!

We've lived 5 blocks from the river for almost 8 years, and I honestly couldn't tell you how many times we've walked this exact stretch of road. 

But we've never seen a beaver before!

We watched him paddle around in the water and Claire, upon seeing him, exclaimed, 

"Oh my gosh, he's gigantic!" 

He settled in on the opposite bank with a stick. And even over the water we could hear him chewing it as we watched him, facing us, holding it in his hands, nibbling away. 

We stood there for a long time 

in complete wonder, admiring.

(Curses! that I couldn't get a good shot of him.)

And then, we walked home, resolving to drop in at his house tomorrow for another look. 

Claire requested we hit the sprinklers another time and we did.

The sky was stunning, and my son grabbed my hand again and held it all the way home.

Summer, I am loving you.

Morning Work

Yesterday morning I went outside and unwound the hose in the front to water the hydrangea, geraniums, the hanging basket and pots by the door, my daisies (remember You've Got Mail: "Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?"), and our bed of happy petunias. 

Then to the backyard, watering pots of geraniums, a hanging basket with purple flowers, and the herb planter with basil, rosemary, and lemon thyme. 

I went to put the sprinkler in the garden, and pretty soon all four kids were out there with me. We were talking about this and that as we pulled some weeds.

  

There were bell peppers, 

baby jalapeños (we talked about making salsa!),

spaghetti squash, 

happy onions, 

zucchini (we picked a big one!), 

rhubarb,

cucumbers (this is one that was picked last week), 

tomatoes (turn red!), 

beans and beets and carrots,

corn as tall as me, 

and bees in the squash flowers. 

Those minutes made my whole morning.

I love time with my people,

and this green space is going to give us lots of yummy food.