For Emily, On Your Birthday

I Remember You

I remember you puddled in pink, taking your baths in the kitchen sink.

I remember you, flowers in your hair, waking up to your daddy’s loving stare.

I remember you with your eyes shut tight, balling fists and toes in the long dark night.

I remember you, Nana’s little shadow, following her and carrying horses’ red apples.

I remember you all words and whys, becoming more wise in this present world’s eyes.

I remember you pedaling tricycle in the warm morning sun, then pushing your baby carriage just like I had one.

I remember you covered in pink, pedaling your bicycle with a smile and a wink.

I remember you dancing and singing, putting all your dolls to bed like a good mommy in training.

I remember you holding brother at first meeting, gazing at the present and blessing counting all I was seeing.

I remember you reading books in your bed, replacing them under the mattress stead.

I remember you teasing you had no more kisses, and throwing them away in the waste basket like the tissues.

I remember you as the little girl you are for this present day as you turn four.

Happy Birthday Emily Elizabeth!

Love,
Mommy

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A Canvas of Thoughtfulness

Our days are fleeting like a blank canvas soon full with the artist’s desire.

One moment fresh and new we enter the world, and a few breaths later the Gallery Cathedral of the Great I Am.

It is silly for me to even think I have a sense of measured control in life.

I have control over my responses to events and the pursuits that I so choose. However, so much else is much like grasping water in my hand; impossible to control.

Laying in bed last night this thought struck me, “I cannot control my death.” Startling is it not? I sometimes fool myself into thinking I am assured of my next breath.

The last two days with the children have been as ideal as it gets with this mama’s limited patience combined with that of a two and four year old.

In the surprise moments of revealing in God’s created world, thankfulness for gifts each morning have been so sweet.

As the brush holds midair awaiting it’s next stroke, I pause to tell God thank you for this moment and this moment and this moment.

Then the next moment, when I forget and hasten to sigh, roll my eyes, clench my fists, and demand my own way.

The brush strokes black.

Next movement, the ultimate Artist’s Son’s blood washes it clean in the cup of everlasting life and brushes a vibrant color onto this canvas in it’s place.

So thankful that the Gallery awaits wretched sinners turned saints like me. Thankful for His brushstrokes. Thankful that I have this family painted on.

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Happy Birthday Beloved

How many candles press into a cake before you stop adding them? Hopefully some form of celebration never stops, but sometimes the candles do.

When my husband became a daddy, it was only a few weeks after his 30th birthday. Then two years later he was sandwiched in with Joshua’s birthday just one week before his. Emily’s a mere two weeks after.

 

Maybe all fathers who truly live up to the title of “dad” find themselves sandwiched between children in some way: reading books on the couch, tickle monster times, stooping low to teach a huddled crowd of eyes and ears.

The righteous man walks in his integrity; his children are blessed after him.

Proverbs 20:7

Today marks the 34th birthday for my beloved, Ron. The very first time I saw my husband, little did I know that we would share in this marvelous love. Not everyday, nor every moment, would either one of us describe our marriage as marvelous, but we would marvel that God brought us together and has redeemed us both.

Today I celebrate your birth, Ron. I thank God for the man that you are and that you are striving to become in Christ Jesus. Thank you for being the ‘sandwhiched’ kind of dad that you are. Emily, Joshua, and I love you past the moon to the sun and back!

I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers, that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, having the eyes of you hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward  us who believe, according to the working of his great might that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places

Ephesians 1:17-30

 

Linking with Rachel.

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The Water Ripples and Wrinkles Time

I had not been there in years.

The creek at my father’s birthplace.

A few miles from the house that he and my mother now call home… yet really a world away.

Standing on the slippery, wet rocks took me back to elementary years when trips were more frequent and apprehensions of falling in ran a bit higher. Reminded of the thoughts of long ago that only encompassed myself and held no room for the two that we now call our own.

The water ripples and wrinkles time and this home is temporary.

A few decades back would have found my father and his family here playing and bathing in this same creek; full of water to the brim then. Yet now it finds him the grandfather of three and one on the way.

Present. The present is all that we really have and it is ever fleeting. Yet we choose to run ahead to grayer hair and “the day when,” although I dare say that day will not find me all “caught up” and content unless I choose to abide in the this day.

Our trip to Daddy’s land was a gift on the cusp of the new year, as was visiting with a cousin. Both I will treasure these next twelve months and in years to come.

Linking up with Rachel.

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