A LampPost Flickering

Dress-up is serious business at my house. Christmas 2003, Caleb--4, Gabe--2 1/2 It started early on. Dowagiac, MI, September 2004 Caleb, tenderly aged five, played the part of a little orphan boy our town's reenactment of the Orphan Train Riders, which made its first stop in Dowagiac, MI in 1854. Caleb had one line, "Do you think I could go, too, sir?" He was so dang cute, and even now, I'm haunted by his little voice squeaking that haunting line, and I hear the phantom voices of the thousands of children who needed families. Most of the children who rode the Orphan Train were never adopted. Christmas Parade of Lights float, Dowagiac, MI 2004 (Please forgive the poor quality of this photo: poorest of lighting and crappy camera. I'm surprised it turned out as well as it did!) Seth's first role in a play. His role at two months of age? Baby Jesus. Please disregard Mary's out-of-character black gloves. She wasn't prepared for how bitterly cold it is atop...

"Give us wisdom." Recently, as our family prayed around the dinner table, three of the kids made this request of God. My heart flooded with love for these precious gems of mine who felt prompted to pray for wisdom before digging into dinner. I don't think they prayed for wisdom because school was a little hard that day, or because they wanted to impress Mom and Dad with grown-up sounding prayers. They prayed sweetly and earnestly. And God spoke to me through their prayers. At once He reminded me of this precious promise found in James 1:5: " If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him." I lack wisdom. I surely do. And I need to be like my kids, and remember to ask for it before the crisis hits, throughout the common parts of the day--like dinnertime. Lord, I lack wisdom, and because I know that you are generous, I ask for You to bless me with wisdom. I also ask for godly wisdom for...

School's been going on strong from my four little scholars for the past three weeks. This is the first year in six years of homeschooling that we "officially" started school before Labor Day. What was the difference this year? I don't know. Often the seat of my pants flies before me, and I just follow along. Actually, the local public schools started on the 23rd, two of our close homeschooling family friends decided to start up, and it's just too bloomin' hot here right now to do much else. I don't have any cute pictures of them climbing on the bus or dressed up with their oversized backpacks and squeaky new shoes. But perhaps a few candids from inside our classroom might stir-up some nostalgic back-to-school feelings. So this is what it looked like in front of my chair for the three weeks prior to school: Every year our school changes flavor a little bit to match our family. Or because something we did last year didn't quite work, or because one kid h...

I took a bit of a bloggy break, but I'm back. I think. I'm sure all three of my readers (I'm counting my mom twice) will appreciate that. Well, Labor Day has come. Labor Day has gone. Gabe woke up yesterday morning and chirped, "Happy Labor Day, Mom! And I'm the only one who remembered." Meaning, no one else in the family burst forth with the greeting. I'm sure he hoped there would be some kind of gift exchange, but he contented himself with enjoying a day without formal schooling. (In a house of learning, I hesitate to say we had no school, because I firmly believe that much meaningful learning happens way outside the confines of curricula and lesson plans. But that is another blog for another day.) The kids have been memorizing a Bible verse each week, a verse to correspond with each of our 26 alphabet bits. Maybe the ABC mnemonic will help us to keep those precious jewels from God's Word hidden in our hearts for good. This week, C is for: " C ...

I'm not usually one to dwell on challenges and depressions, especially ones that are spiritual or personal. I don't like to air dirty laundry. Writing that sentence on this spring day in South Texas does make me desperately miss my clothesline in Michigan and the fragrance of freshly laundered and country-air-dried sheets. Ahh. Oh, back to what I was talking about. Dirty laundry. Physical evidence of the day's/week's/month's toil. Oh, look, she had pasta again, I can see the marinara spot on her white shirt. Hasn't she had enough pasta? I mean, does she know how many carbs are in a plate of penne? This is all figurative of course. (And I did make a YUMMY whole wheat baked penne this week, with chicken, zucchini, red pepper, onions and garlic, but that's clearly an aside.) Oh, she's been grumpy with her kids? Feels distant from her husband? Lacking in her prayer life? Trouble sticking to her Lent fast? The chaplain's wife?! Dirty laundry indeed. I do...

"Beauty is visual but also exists in sounds, scents, tastes and touch." (Etched on a wooden sign at the South Texas Botanical Gardens.) We journeyed in search of beauty, vibrant color, signs of spring and new life. We found it, God's gentle breath of life in the wonder of His creation as we gazed and marveled at colors found only in flowers and dreams and touched baby soft petals and inhaled crisp air dampened by rain and made rich by earthy spring. If this is only a shadow of the beauty found in Heaven, what glorious treasures await us there!