Spring Break

Sigh.

Oh, Spring Break, how I miss thee!  It's taken me a couple of weeks to post these, and now we are in the thick of track season.  Nate coaches, which means 10-11 hour days away on practice days and 11-13 hours away on meet days.  Today, he left at 6:45am, came home for an hour at 5:30pm, then went back for a training.  

But, alas, I digress.  Fabulous, restful, carefree, beautiful SPRING BREAK!

Our first weekend was Easter, which I, unfortunately, did not get any pictures of.  We spent the day with the Kellar's and it was fabulous.  For some appropriately spiritual thoughts, see my last post <here>.

For now, we'll move on to the deeply meaningful truth that Levi had a mullet.   On Easter Sunday afternoon, in Grandpa and Grandma K's backyard, we decided to take care of it.

Business up front.

Party in the back.

Teamwork!

Don't you just wanna kiss him?

Somehow, I failed to get a final picture, but Mike and Nate did an amazing job.  No clippers, even.


Later in the week, we took a day trip to Cannon Beach!

We wanted to:
A) try out a road trip in our new Honda Odyssey (yes! we now have a minivan! love it!),
B) Let Levi experience the sand and the waves for the first time, and
C) have something other than yard work to show for our week off.

Ecola State Park viewpoint

Hike from the top viewpoint down to Indian Beach

Levi LOVED everything about the beach:

Logs, sand, water, rocks, you name it.

I realize I don't have to include all of these pictures,

but I can't part with any of them.  What personality

this little one has!

A 14-month's old perspective of the beach.  Levi's

quote of the day was "Whoa!" which he said over and over

on our hike and near the water.

I agree, buddy!

While I chased Levi and kept him from eating too much sand, the older boys played in the tide pools.  Jeans, sweatshirts and all!  They had SO much fun!

The rest of the week was spent mostly at home.  We were supposed to do an Easter dinner with my family on Monday, but Gabriel had to go and get croup, so we had to postpone that.

Nate started reading the boys The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.  Totally recommend it!  Ben was SO into the story.  He understood the connection between Aslan and Jesus right away.  He begged and begged Nate to keep reading each night.  He cheered and jumped up and down when Aslan came back to life.  Sam got into it too, but got a little caught up with Mr. Tumnus.  He was very concerned about him and asked about him every chapter.  Didn't exactly get the big picture yet.  On a side note, if you have kiddos that care a little too much for the bad guys in stories, like ours do, then this is the perfect story to teach them to cheer for the Good side.  

Reading C.S. Lewis with Daddy and scarfing kale chips from the garden.

Doesn't get much better for my boys (or me)!

Sammy's a big fan

On the right, you can see Nate's handiwork.  We have almost all of our wood for next winter already, thanks to all of his hard work!

On the left, you can see the garden work we've been doing: expanding the bed on the bottom, tearing up the grass in between the beds, and now we've laid cedar chips.  It looks great!

Overall, it was a wonderful week together.  We felt rejuvenated and ready to tackle a very busy Spring!

Wet Pillow Theology

Today, I'm going to attempt to finish a blog post that has been on my heart for months, and which I've been attempting to write for weeks!   I know I won't be able to fully articulate what the Lord is trying to teach me, but I think there will be clarity in the effort.

God loves wet pillows. Well, He doesn't exactly love them, but He uses them.  He understands them. God invites us into suffering along side others.  He speaks to us through sorrow, exhaustion and grief as we cry ourselves to sleep.

I don't mean the "oh my boyfriend broke up with me", or "my dog died" kind of tears, although I know He is with us during those times too.  Up until moving to Chevak, those two previous examples are the only times I really remember crying myself to sleep before the age of 23.

No, I mean the kind of wet pillow that comes from deep sorrow.  From trudging with a friend or family member through cancer treatment or infertility, or experiencing such yourself.  From losing a spouse, or child.  From watching your son or daughter walk away from the Lord.  From being pulled down by depression or suicide.  From saying goodbye to someone you love deeply.  From watching children suffer.

The first night I cried myself to sleep in Chevak was only a few months after moving there.  I had begun the evening in the highest spirits.  Nate and I, with our warm coats and rose-colored glasses on, decided to take a walk through the village to see the sunset.  We stopped at the school and hung out at the dance for awhile.  At 10pm, it was time for the little kids to go home, and one little girl grabbed my hand and asked us if we'd walk them home. 

"Melt my heart, little one, of course I will!"

So, Nate and ended up in the middle of a pack of a dozen or so elementary school kids as they walked the muddy streets home.  Pretty soon, the little girl holding my hand stepped behind me to talk to her big sister, who was probably 10.  I don't think she meant for me to hear, but you know how it is when little ones whisper.  She started crying and saying she didn't want to go home.

"No, no, no, I'm scared.  I'm scared.   I don't wanna go.  

Let's stay outside.  Let's go somewhere else.  I'm so scared."

"It's okay.  Don't worry, sister.  Dad won't be home yet. 

You can use my crayons.  It's okay.  Shhhh shhhh. 

I'll protect you.  He won't be there yet." 

And I had to let them go.  Down the dark street.  With the rest of the kids who heard the conversation, but didn't even flinch.  Just kept walking, probably afraid to go home themselves.  There was little we could do.

It broke my heart.  I held it together, but when we made it home I cried myself to sleep.  It was our first peek into what life was really like for these kids.  It was our first time knowing people who were abused and neglected, poor and hurting, not just reading about them in books.

There were other wet pillow nights in Chevak, too.  Like when our dear friend, Maya, died of liver cancer.  She whose name we would give a daughter, who helped start the youth group at church, took us on our first boat ride in Chevak, loved Jesus, left behind her only daughter, Deanna, now an orphan.

Or the day I came across one of my 4th graders sitting outside her house crying because she had just been beaten by her intoxicated mom.

Or the day I heard one of my 7th graders had been raped.

Or the time we got the news that two of my brightest students' mom had shot the dad and then herself in a moment of drunken rage.

Or the day we found out one of Nate's former students, who had returned from Iraq, and was a role model for the younger generation, committed suicide.

Or the day we found out one of our friends accidentally shot his young daughter with his hunting rifle.

Or the time we heard that a tiny baby had been run over by a four-wheeler and killed.

Or when we heard the news that our dear teacher friend Lena had succumbed to cancer, leaving behind her 5 sons and 1 daughter.

Or, most recently, when we found out that one of Lena's boys died of a concussion. 

And many, many more.

Wet pillows for us.  And probably for you, too. 

But why, oh why, are these wet pillows good?!

This is where my theology is still being shaped.  This is where I have so much to learn. This is what I am struggling to understand. 

Jesus walked the earth doing battle with suffering.  If he crossed paths with someone who was crippled, unclean, leprous, or blind, soon their suffering was turned to joy and dancing.   God hates suffering.  When Jesus returns again, there will be no more.  "Sorrow and sighing will flee!"

Indeed we must remember that Christ himself suffered on our behalf.  Isaiah 53:4-5 "Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted.  But he was pierced for our transgression, he was crushed for out iniquities. The punishment that brought us peace was on him and by his wounds we are healed."

I cannot even pretend to "solve" the problem of pain for our world and they way it seems to be counterintuitive to a Good God (I'll leave that to the great theologians like C.S. Lewis).  What I know? Suffering happens.  As a consequence of the Fall, as a consequence of sin, because His Kingdom on Earth is not yet complete.  I love Luke 4:18, where Jesus says:

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He has anointed Me to preach the gospel to the poor; He has sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed."

So, if I am a true disciple of Jesus, and I am taking up my cross to follow him, if God Himself suffered on my behalf and fills me with His Spirit to be His hands and feet for those around me that suffer...then I myself should be brushing shoulders with the poor, brokenhearted, captive, blind and oppressed.  I should KNOW them enough to feel their pain.  I should be internalizing their pain.   Even enough to cry myself to sleep some nights. 

Am I? 

You see, it's been quite a while since I cried myself to sleep.   Since moving here to Washougal, my family and I have been pretty sheltered from the suffering of others.  Our bubble is comfortable.  I like it.  We are blessed and I do thank God for His goodness. 

Yet.
 
In my soul, I feel the Lord calling our family to more.  If we REALLY believe what the Bible says, then shouldn't our lives look more like Jesus' life?  Shouldn't our hearts break for the things that break His heart?  Shouldn't we love others so much that when they suffer, we cry along with them?

Then, the other part of me says:

"Yeah, but I have kids!  They might feel neglected.  They might be badly influenced.  They might not have a perfect childhood.   I'm too busy already!   There are too many people to know and love and serve!"           

But, you know what's crazy?  My kids are some of the greatest advocates for our neighbors and the poor around us.

"Mom, what does his sign say?  Let's buy him food!" 

"Dad, we should have Cassie's mommy and daddy over for dinner."

"Let's go visit Melle today, Mom!" (our disabled neighbor).

"Yay!  Movie night!"  (at the low-income apartment complex where we volunteer once a month).

So, my excuses ring hollow in my ears.  My children not only want to help others, but need to learn how to do so through the strength God provides.  Just as I spend time providing them healthy meals,  sending them out to get exercise,  practicing reading and math, I need to be teaching them how to embody Jesus by loving those that are hurting.  Actually, that most of all.

And do you know what else I've noticed lately?  I am a better Mom when I take my eyes off of myself.  When I allow God to burst the comfort bubble we live in.  When He fills me with His fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness and self-control.

I can share with my boys what it means to care so deeply about God's children who are suffering, that they will also cry themselves to sleep.  In my arms.  In His arms. 

And, very practically, because sometimes I need practical steps, I've thought of a few things my family can do:

1. PRAY that God would give Nate, myself and our children (and our church) a heart like His, and compassion like His.  That we would love Him with all of our hearts, souls, minds, and strength; therefore, loving our neighbors as ourselves.

2. That God would help us SEE the needs in our community and the world, giving us a specific Call.
 
3. After hearing the Call and seeing the people in need, pursuing them and KNOWING them by doing life with them on a day-by-day basis.

4. POSTURING ourselves in worship to our Savior and humbly walking closely with others through His strength.  So closely that when they cry, I cry.  When they hurt, I hurt.


So closely that at times I cry myself to sleep.


_______________________________________________________

Here's a few books/sermons/blogposts that have inspired this post, written/spoken by people that have a whole lot more experience, wisdom and right to elaborate on this subject than me!

Kisses from Katie by Katie Davis, about a young woman who lives in Uganda and has adopted 13 young girls, even though she is just 23.

A Hole in Our Gospel by Richard Stearns, president of World Vision, and a former millionaire whose heart God has shattered as he reaches out to the poor.

Josh McPherson's Story/Sermon about how God has brought their family through the difficulty of two children born with Spina Bifida, and how God has used their disabilities to teach them more about Himself.  I went to GFU with Josh and his beautiful wife, Sharon.

Gary Haugen's talk at the Justice Conference 2013, where he talks about the "slow and tedious" work of the International Justice Mission, as they seek to set some of the 27 million slaves in our world today free.

Love Does by Bob Goff

I Don't Want My Kids to be Happy:  A blogpost by Missy at "It's Almost Naptime" talking about what we should really want for our kids.

Sammy Lammy Whammy

(Yes, I do call my dear middle one this horrendous nickname.  We like to get silly around here.)

Next week, our Sam will be four!   I can hardly believe it.  This year has been very special for my relationship with Sam.  When I watch him and snuggle with him, my heart wells with love, tenderness and gratitude for the little man he is becoming.

Four is right on the cusp between toddler and little boy.  I see so much of Sam that is still toddler-ish: screeching loud when he's frustrated, snuggling with me for a long time when he first wakes up, carrying his blue, ratty, old blanky everywhere he goes, and needing help to get in and out of the car and into his clothes.

Yet, there is also so much little boy shining through too: watching out for his little brother, vacuuming the house and helping Daddy carry wood, getting out his guitar to sing praises whenever the worship music comes on, making his bed, brushing his teeth, understanding Bible stories and chapter books.  I love to see him blossom.

Silly

Creative

Musical

Expressive

Snuggly

Exuberant 

Excited to learn

Ready to follow those he loves like Ben and Gideon

Lover of Nacho Libre, singing praise, chocolate, and Star Wars



Here's Sam and Levi getting ready to head out into the only snow we got this year.  I love how Sam is so seriously taking his role as big brother, especially when Ben is at school.

Look at this sweet smile.

 

Sammy still takes a nap a few times a week.  Often in our bed.  On this day, I just sat and stared at him for awhile. I feel the years slipping by all too quickly and want to remember how blessed I am to take care of this little boy.

I posted a video of Ben pedaling his bike, but look how fast Sam can go without pedals!!  

He's our  speedy gonzalez.

Sam and I do school a few days a week at home.  We're going through the letters and numbers, writing his name, etc.  I like to pick a science-y type theme to go with each new letter as it is introduced.  This last week was J and Jedi.  Gotta explore the important things in life, you know!  Mostly, though, he hangs with me, plays with Levi, stirs ingredients, reads books, pretends with his "guys" and just gets to be a little boy.  Days are pretty quiet at home with Sam and Levi and I like them that way.

The other 4 days of the week when Ben is home are filled with a little more "zest", we'll call it.  Laughter, shouting, arguing, wrestling, jumping off of tall things, pretending %50 of the day.  Just being boys.  They do almost everything together and I love to see their friendship blossom.

I love being your Mommy, Sam.  I can't wait to see what adventures you take us on this year!  Can't wait to keep snuggling each morning.  Can't wait to see Jesus continue to shine His face upon you!