Every Breath

Every day living can suck the life right out of you sometimes. 

Somewhere in the middle of pouring cereal, sweeping floors and wiping little noses I can forget to be alive... 

My mantra used to be the quote from the Last Samurai , "To know life in every breath". Hmm. That was back before I had kids. Before life was getting up out of bed and being thrown straight into a multi tasking frenzy. You know, back when I actually had a few minutes to sit alone (uninterrupted) and think. 

These past weeks, I've felt that quote being whispered right back into my soul. "To know life...." to KNOW it. Not to just exist it. To KNOW it. To understand it. To experience it. To LIVE it. "...in every breath." Not just in moments or isolated instances... but in EVERY SINGLE BREATH. What would that be like? Like a free fall from an airplane? Like running through the tall grass, barefoot with the sun on my face? Like riding my horse as a little girl, wind blowing through my hair and powerful hoofbeats carrying me anywhere? Like that moment when I pushed each of my three babies into this world, screaming and strong with power and LIFE... beautiful LIFE beginning--emerging from me? What would it be like if I lived each moment in the spirit of those FULLY ALIVE moments? 

"Without vision the people perish." (Proverbs 29:18)

Without a vision... without a reason for life... without a purpose... I perish. I falter. I lose my way. I lose hope. 

I've been reminded that I need to re-cast vision. I was really good at vision years ago. Before the kids. Before the laundry. Before the cooking and the cleaning and the tantrums and the stretch marks. I was full of motivation. Full of hope. Full of LIFE. 

What parts of me have I simply let die? 

Without vision, [I] perish. 

My husband and I are reading the New Testament together. We are reading it out loud to one another and its words are saturating my soul. When my husband reads especially, I am opening my pores to it and allowing him to wash me with the Word, as he should. I am allowing the God breathed words to breathe life back into my spirit. I am opening my mind and my heart to new VISIONS.

I remember standing in the sanctuary at our church in Vermont. I was broken, empty and lost. We had just gotten back from the mission field, defeated and (failed).  I felt so shallow. I felt laid out on the cold earth needing something from God. I needed Him to speak to me. I needed Him to shape me and tell me that I was still useful. I felt sure I wasn't. Our pastor's wife stood up on the stage and she spoke in clear strong terms. I closed my eyes and I felt goose bumps. I was about to hear. I can still remember her words clear as a bell. I hear her inflection, her tone, and her strength as she spoke them. "There are dreams that you have lost that WILL be returned to you." I crumpled. When we left the mission field, I felt like all my vision and all my dreaming was wrong. I felt like nothing I'd believed about my purpose was real. I felt I'd been dumped by God. I felt useless, worthless and less than. And in that one sentence, I felt God say, "I still have dreams for you." 

Don't ever lose your vision. Chase it. Redeem it. LIVE it.

Pajamas and Rubber Boots

 Life is non stop these days.

My 3 amazing little ones keep me busy... but they also keep me happy. I'm learning to let go. To let go of the housework and embrace the fun.

Tonight, I took the trash cans out to the end of our driveway. Normally, my husband does that. Tonight, though, I did it. Just because I wanted to. I needed some fresh air. I took my just-turned-three year old with me. We traipsed down the drive in our rubber boots and chatted about life. We stomped through a puddle and we giggled at the way the gravel crunched under our soles. We joked about how silly we looked out and about in our jammies, and we stopped to talk about what color the neighbors cars were. We crouched at the edge of a puddle and watched a frog for a good ten minutes. She looked into my eyes and said, "I love you Mommy." just because.

Life may be busy, but I'm trying to keep my heart still. Because these are the moments I'll remember. Walking hand in hand with my little girl in our pj's and our mud boots. Watching a green frog hop through the puddle and listening to the peepers sing their evening song.

Someday, these moments will have passed.

I won't remember how shiny my counter tops were or how organized my kids dresser drawers were. But I will remember that tender expression in her blueberry eyes when she told me how much she loves being with me.

We came inside and I crawled in bed next to her. I watched her eyelids grow heavy and I listened to her breathe.

I want to slow it all down.

I can't believe Peyton is three. When did it happen?

When did my tiny baby learn to talk? To walk? To know her colors? To know what a frog is? She amazes me. She is so understanding. So tender. So fierce.

When I get stressed, exhausted and worn... her little hand will rest on my arm and she'll softly say, "Just relax, Mommy!" She's right, you know. What will happen if I leave dirty dishes for a night? Nothing. What will happen if I instead go and crawl into bed next to my daughter and share secrets and stories until she falls asleep? Amazing things. Closeness. Friendship. Love. Memories.

How I need these reminders!

I never thought I'd need to be reminded to enjoy life.

But life is too short and the days fly by too fast not to live in each moment... fully alive.

Love, Joy and a Snowball

I was home schooled. My own mama taught me to read, to write, to add, to study and to live.
But of all the lessons my mother taught my sister and I, there was one lesson that I hold as the most important: My mom taught us to love others.

Every week we visited the nursing home. We would walk the halls and visit the sweet people in their rooms or where they would sit out in the halls in their wheelchairs. We did crafts with them, painted the elderly ladies nails or pushed them around for walks. We learned to listen to their stories, play along with their memories, kneel by their chairs and hold their hands, and to hug their frail shoulders.

I have so many memories and stories of our visits to the nursing homes, but there is one that came to my mind this morning that I want to share with you.

I can't remember exactly how old I was, but based on where we were living at the time, I know I was less than fourteen. The nursing home in our area was St. Josephs Manor, a one level brick nursing home with long hallways. My favorite person to visit at St. Josephs was Mary Cone. Mary was always sitting in her wheelchair near the nurses station towards the back of the nursing home. No matter who were visiting as we made our way down the halls, I would crane my neck to see if Mary was sitting in her usual place. She always greeted me with a smile and outstretched hand. She wore beautiful cardigans, always with one button fastened at her neck. Her slim frame was often covered with a warm blanket and I remember a gold bracelet always hanging on her wrist. She was full of smiles and interesting conversation.

On one particular day, I remember sitting on the floor in front of Mary's wheelchair, listening to her talk about her younger years. It was late in the afternoon, and there was a fresh blanket of snow outside. I told Mary about the snow, and a light sprung to her eyes. She told me long ago tales of her happy childhood in southern New York. She remembered snow angels and throwing snow balls. As her smile grew with each memory, a thought occurred to me. What if Mary could throw one more snow ball? What if instead of remembering the glittering snow, she could touch it--breathe it in. I excused myself from Mary, and flagged down her nurse. As I whispered my idea, I saw the nurse smile. It must have taken a half hour or more for the nurse to bundle up Mary warm enough for the early evening winter chill.

I remember she wore a woolen coat, a burgundy hat and mittens. She had a thick blanket folded over her lap and a big smile on her sweet face. I remember wheeling out onto the broad walkway in front of the nursing home. The sun had set and it was just beginning to get dark outside.

I'll never forget what it felt like to place a cold, wet snowball in the gloved hand of Mary Cone. She grasped it between her mittens and held it tightly with a sparkle in her worn old eyes. Gently, she lifted her arm and tenderly, but with calculation, she tossed the snowball. She let out a little squeal as it flew through the air and giggled as it landed with a powdery thud. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and watched her take in the scene of the winter night and the resting snow ball. How many snowball fights did she remember in that moment? How many schoolyard chases and sledding adventures? Did she remember laughter with her siblings? Hand in hand strolls with her father? Celebrating a happy first Christmas with her new husband or new baby? I watched Mary's face, and I watched her silent memories pass before her eyes.

I'll never, ever forget the way Mary looked after throwing the snowball that night. Her cheeks flushed and rosy, her eyes sparkling like the new snow.

As I remembered Mary and the snowball this morning, I made myself a promise. I promised myself that in addition to all the other lessons I hope to teach my children, I will teach them love. I will venture to teach them that bringing someone else joy is far more important than seeking pleasure for themselves. I will tell them that even now, at least ten years later, I can still clearly picture sweet Mary Cone throwing a snowball for the last time with a smile on her lovely, wrinkled face.

Unashamed.

"Are they BOTH yours?" The host at Applebee's fairly cringed when I walked in the door with my one year old on my hip and my 2 year old in tow. My coat slipped open as I bent over to wipe my daughter's nose.
"OH MY GOD!" He exclaimed. "You're PREGNANT!"
"Yup." I responded, really just wanting him to do his job and take me to a table rather than gawking over my reproductive choices.
"Well, you've been busy" He turned on his heel and led us to a table in the back-- furthest from any other customers. I sighed in relief when he walked away, settling into my booth and getting my children situated in the booster seat and high chair provided.
"Hey I'm Nick. I'll be your server today." I look up and see the same host who brought us to our table. Great. He's going to be my waiter. Well, maybe he's gotten all his gawking out of the way and now he'll just take my order and get on with it.
"So you look awfully young to have so many kids. How old are you anyway?" No such luck. Uh oh. He's not done.
"I'm 22."
"WHOA! You ARE young! That is just crazy. So, I mean, why?" Why? Really? Does he really want to get personal? Should I launch into a 10 minute explanation of the fact that I'm super fertile and seem to fall pregnant as easily as I blink my eyelids? Should I tell him how most women stop ovulating while they're breastfeeding but my body continues to have a cycle, meaning that I become fertile again very shortly after delivering my babies? Should I tell him that I'm not all that comfortable with hormonal forms of birth control and that in my research I've found that the ways in which it prevents pregnancy are questionable at best and contradict my views on life and its very value? Should I just laugh him off and tell him I like sex? Should I get angry with him and just tell the kid to mind his own business and serve me my lunch? Should I call security? 


I'm ashamed to say I didn't have a good answer for him. To be honest, he caught me off guard. I gave him some ridiculous answer about wanting to have my kids close together so they'd grow up close. True, but not the best thing I could have said, I'm sure. I think anyway he got the message that I wasn't interested in talking about it. And other than a few smart comments throughout the meal about how messy my kids were, he mainly shut up.

But he got me thinking.

So, why?

Why am I due to have 3 kids under 3 just after my 23rd birthday?

All those reasons I thought up in my head certainly have something to do with it. But are any of them really the underscore? Do any of them truly define the reason my family is growing as rapidly as it is? No. I don't suppose they do. None of those reasons offer enough conviction and motivation to choose and continue a radical life style.

At the end of the day, whenever my husband and I discuss the size of our family, or the speed at which we are adding to it, there is one thing and one thing only that comes out of both our mouths.

"Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord. The fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one's youth. Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them; they shall not be ashamed..." -Psalm 127:3-5

I don't know how many children we will have. I don't know what God will show us over the coming months and years in regards to our family. But what I do know unwaveringly, is this: 

Children are NOT merely an inconvenience.

Children are NOT an unnecessary expense.

Children are NOT a curse.

Children are NOT an accident.

God is clear on this point. Children ARE a blessing. A REWARD. An inheritance. Who doesn't want all those things? 

My life is messy. My home is messier. My eyes are heavy. My back aches. I don't have it all figured out. I might look like a walking poster ad for birth control. I might be the image that causes people to shudder because they think my life looks so rough. I might be pitied by people for the tolls that pregnancy and child rearing have taken on my body and my time. I might be the example held up of why others want to wait to conceive, or why they want to space their children.

Why did people hug me, jump up and down with joy and slap my husband on the back when we got pregnant with our first.... but then look at us with apologetic eyes when we announced both our second and third pregnancies?

I even question this life so many times a day. If you read my last post, you know that loss of self is one of the hardest things for me about motherhood. I struggle. I falter. 

But in the eyes of the Lord? The only perspective that will ever truly matter? I know what I am because it is spelled out plainly in my Creator's words in Psalm 127:3-5. This is my credo. My hope. My motivation.

I am: 

BLESSED. 

REWARDED.

HAPPY.

UNASHAMED.

Finding the Myself I Lost

You could say I've always been a little wild. Passionate. Excitable. I have this image of myself in the truest form, and it involves a little girl with crazy blond hair riding her horse a little too fast. She cares nothing of dirty hands, a dirty face or mussed up hair. She cares only about that moment--that fleeting moment of freedom and unpredictability. 

As a young girl, I lived for the time of day when I could put away my schoolbooks, change in to my favorite torn pair of jeans and my worn green sweatshirt, jam my hair into a pony tail and fly out the back door. We lived in this little cape on the top of a hill, surrounded by miles of woods that begged for exploration. I would spend hours out there, completely released. Sometimes I would lose myself in make believe. Other times I would lay on the gnarled branches of the apple trees looking up at the sky and dreaming about my own life--who I would become. 

As time went on, I lost so much of that girl. I'd like to say she's still alive and well inside my being, and in some ways I suppose she is. But in so many ways, I've forgotten how to feel pure joy simply by letting the wind course through my hair. I've forgotten how to dance wildly and run freely. I've lost the art of day dreaming and wild flower picking. And even as I read back through this blog of mine, I realize that I've lost my love of writing, somewhere in the daily grind of it all. 

That little girl grew up so quickly. At eighteen I became a wife and responsibility took over carefree spontaneity. Becoming pregnant at nineteen meant that the maturity of motherhood must take the helm rather than the reckless desire to chase the sunset. 

I suppose the last traces of that little girl longed to be revived when we found ourselves bound for South Africa. One of my day dreams in that orchard not so many years before had been going to distant lands, carrying the wild hope of the Gospel with radical love and barefoot obedience. But when reality fizzled even that final dream, I found myself floundering. Who was I, if not that fancy free little blond girl? Who was I if not the wild, unpredictable free spirit than everyone knew me to be? I now found myself, a tired and weary brunette mother of two. Hardly an evidence of what was, remained.

I used to feel so deeply. I used to love so passionately. I used to dream so limitlessly. 

I want to find myself again. 

It sounds so cliche to say that as mothers we often lose ourselves, but this morning as I sit here thinking over days gone by, I realize that it's begun. 

But I am resolved. It is not without reversal. 

I see so much of that wild little girl every time I look at Peyton. She is vivacious, passionate, joyful, energetic, strong...she is everything I was. Even down to the wild blond hair and light filled blue eyes. Little Britany is sweetness, pure sensitivity and love. She is gentleness, but she is also strength. My daughters each reflect what I hope to be. Peyton reminds me to let loose, to dance, to run. Britany makes me long for the gentle and quiet spirit that is so precious to God. (I Pet. 3:4)

Through my children, God will restore to me what has been lost. What life has threatened to strip from me--my very being--God will restore and reshape. He will return unto me the joy of my salvation. He will renew a right spirit within me. 

I have to find that little girl again. I need her to help me teach my daughters to day dream. I need her to remind me how to run barefoot and dig in the dirt. I need her to help me teach my children to climb trees and go fishing. I need her to help me show them how to wade in the water, how to catch fireflies, and how to run with the wind in your hair. I need her to help me dream again. To lose resignation and rekindle passion. I'm ready to live fully again. To chase life with fervor. To forget about the things which really never mattered all that much, and remember what it is to breathe life in my lungs. I will remember.

Sunday Sermon Notes

A visiting preacher came to our church this past Sunday, and his sermon was so good. As I was ferociously taking notes during his talk, it dawned on me that I just had to share all this goodness on my blog! 


You all have been there through our families journey on, and then off the mission field. You've heard more than your fair share of my sob stories of failure, disappointment and regrets. Here I am, more than a year later, and there are still pieces of my heart that need healing. (am I a broken record, or what?!) The sermon that this guy (wish I could remember his name!) preached was so healing for me. It resonated so strongly and gave me hope.  I'm gonna go ahead and mainly just type out my notes... I hope this encourages some of you as it did me!

He started by setting the stage for us of Moses' life. Here this child is SAVED out of a mass murder by the wisdom of his mother who places him in the basket in the river where he is found by none other than Pharaoh's daughter. He's taken into Pharaoh's household and raised as a prince, basically. And because God loves the mother heart (which He created!) He allowed Moses' biological mother to be his wet nurse. Talk about AMAZING. Well, the preacher said that perhaps Moses' mother spoke to him about how he was to be the deliverer of his people. Perhaps she spoke vision over her son's life as she nursed him. Perhaps she prepared him for greatness even from such a young age.

Image Credit

Well then, when Moses grows up, he gets angry and kills a man in a fit of rage. He is sent out from Pharaoh's house into the wilderness where he....HERDS SHEEP. Real great, huh? No doubt in that time, Moses accumulated pain and feelings of failure. For 40 years he led sheep in the wilderness. So much for "deliverer". So much for greatness. He led these sheep in the middle of nowhere, far from the people he was created to deliver. For FORTY years..... UNTIL! One day, God broke through his routine with a burning bush. God presented His plan to Moses one day that could have been like all the others. And Moses had to make a choice. To continue in the routine of 40 years, or to get up and to walk into God's plan for him.

"Out of the brokenness of our disappointed dreams, we must ask, 'WHO IS THE LORD, AND WHY MUST I OBEY HIM?'"


We must know the God we serve for who He is. God has had a calling for us since before He created the world. We can keep ourselves from that calling by "camping" in places that hold us back.

When Moses returns to Egypt and requests that Pharaoh allow him and his men to go make a sacrifice to God in another land, Pharaoh attempts to strike a deal with them--to bargain. He first tells them "yes, go, but make your sacrifice still here in Egypt." When Moses says, "No we must go out from this land" Pharaoh comes back with "Well, then leave your women and children here." When Moses says, "No we must bring our wives and offspring." Pharaoh returns with, "Fine, then leave your livestock." Moses replies, "Not a hoof must be left behind, because we do not know what God will expect as a sacrifice." The point of this conversation is that Pharaoh was attempting to anchor Moses and the Hebrew people to Egypt. He wanted something to always be there to call them back.

There's always something that draws you back and anchors you to "Egypt". But you must PICK UP ALL YOUR ROOTS AND GO WHEN GOD CALLS YOU. We don't know what God is going to ask of us--we just have to lift it all up with open hands. IT MUST ALL BE AVAILABLE TO HIM.


There is no time for looking back. No time for "dual citizenship".

You will NEVER possess your promised land with your heart still attached to "Egypt".


Being filled with the Holy Spirit is living in such a way that we allow the Spirit of God to do everything He wants to do in every part of us. If I ask to hear what the Holy Spirit is doing in your life, don't you tell me about an experience you had 10 years ago, 5 years ago, 1 year ago, even a day ago. Tell me what God is doing RIGHT NOW...TODAY!


There is no such thing as being able to say "No, Lord". Because the moment you've said no, then He is no longer your Lord. There is only "Yes, Lord." 


God's expectation for His people is to love Him with ALL THEY ARE (Deuteronomy 6:4-5) Understand the traps that are attempting to hold you back. Moses did.

"Talk Time"

In the past couple of weeks, Bryan and I have instituted a new "tradition" (for lack of a better word) in our marriage. We call it talk time.

Our talk time is 30 minutes every day that is set aside for TALKING. (that's it... no code word hoopla here... we seriously do talk!) And ONLY talking. I'm meaning, sit on the couch, cup of coffee, facing each other, turning off the baby monitors, and FOCUSED, INTENTIONAL talk time! It's everyday from 9:00pm-9:30pm and it's SACRED.

Bryan works a 40 hour a week job, in addition to preparing our new home (we are moving into a fixer upper this fall and Bryan--my incredibly sexy tool belt wearing hunk of man--has been doing all the work himself--more to come on the house later though!!!) and I'm busy with the kids 24/7.....so needless to say getting intentional time to talk had become a thing of the past. We were finding that we were arguing more simply because we both felt as though we weren't being heard. It all boiled down to the fact that we had no time to discuss the things that were both on our agendas and on our hearts. There were constantly issues coming up that we were both too tired to tackle or too busy to discuss. We didn't have the time to talk them through.....So we determined to MAKE TIME.

I can't even begin to express the incredible impact "Talk Time" has had on our marriage already! No matter what stress I go through during my day I know that I have an outlet each evening with my husband. A place I can go to share my heart, to be heard and to be understood.

It's funny, if I had read this post as a newlywed I would've been like "Girl, you have some serious issues if you think it's good that you talk to your husband for 30 minutes a day!" But now that I have 2 kids and a husband who is essentially working 2 jobs, I know just how precious those 30 minutes are!

Bryan and I fight less, we laugh more and we understand each other better since beginning our Talk Time routine. Our marriage is in a better place. It is so easy to allow frustrations to build up in a marriage. To build grudges and erect walls in places they don't belong. Talk Time has been an outlet for us. A forum where we feel free to be honest about the things that are troubling us. I constantly look forward to our nightly Talk Time and Bryan does as well.

I would like to encourage those of you who are reading this post to consider starting up a Talk Time plan for your own marriage! Here a couple tips for getting yourselves started:

1) Set a time "limit" on it so that you both know what the expectation is. (I personally think 30 minutes is a great amount of time.)

2) Create a list of "To Do" Topics... the things that you always have in the back of your head that you need to discuss with your spouse but just don't typically get time to.

3) Allow yourself to anticipate this time! Try to get the housework done and have the kids in bed before beginning your talk time so that you can be FULLY engaged. Brew a pot of decaf flavored coffee and clear off the couch so you have a comfy place to sit and talk.

4) LISTEN just as much as you SPEAK.

If you already have something like this in your marriage, I seriously would love to hear about it. Communication is so KEY in having a successful marriage and I love hearing peoples tips on keeping it real in the midst of the crazy parenting years. Also let me know if you start up a Talk Time of your own! Marriage is so close to God's heart and the seeds we sow into our marriages are seeds sown into the eternal Kingdom of God. I truly believe that!

Blessings on your marriages! Oh, and enjoy your holiday weekend!

Intentional Parenting

God has been whispering to my heart lately about parenting. Specifically about parenting my precocious two year old, Peyton.

God has been showing me that the way I parent Peyton every day directly effects the person Peyton is and will become. It sounds obvious, right? Well, sometimes I take a while to catch on, I guess.

Peyton will be 2 years old tomorrow. As she grows and becomes a young girl, her personality is emerging. She is passionate. She has a strong will, but it is balanced by a sensitive and compassionate heart. She doesn't do anything halfway. She throws herself into each and every experience without holding anything back. To be honest, sometimes looking at her is like looking into a mirror. As I watch her, my first born, I am reminded of the days when my own heart was as free and child-like as hers. When every new day was the dawn of a new adventure. When the world was full of hope and blissful mystery. 

When an education was found in every experience.

For Peyton, almost everything is new. In her 2 short years she may have already traveled the globe, but she still has never seen so many things. She has yet to learn how to count to 15. She doesn't know how many letters make up the alphabet. She's never heard the word "antonym" and she doesn't know about different religions. She's never heard of Lady Gaga, or the South Pole, and she's never seen a snake.


Recently I have been struck with the revelation that what I don't teach my children, they will learn somewhere else.

Peyton loves the movie "Charlottes Web". As you may know, Charlotte (the intelligent talking spider) dies at the end of the movie. There is a brief scene where Charlotte explains to Wilbur (the spring pig) about death and how it is the "way of all of us". As I watched Peyton stare at the screen and absorb the words being spoken, I realized that that was the first time she'd heard of death. I had never spoken to her about it... so she didn't know... but, now she did. And she learned it from Charlotte's Web. Was that really where I wanted her to learn of it?

Now I realize, that chances are she didn't really take in that definition and chances also are that she won't remember that scene long enough to understand it. But, God used that moment to teach me that Peyton is learning and will learn about all the things of this world. The good, the bad, the beautiful, the horrifying. Who will she learn them from? And will her teacher speak with love and tenderness? Or will those who teach her care nothing of how the education they provide strikes her tender young heart?

That same night, after my girls were sound asleep, I knelt down and asked God to help me be a parent. I asked him to help me to be intentional as I teach my daughters. I have to be honest, most days as a mother of 2 little ones, it's difficult to see the big picture. It's easy to simply try to get through the day without always acknowledging the importance of making calculated parenting decisions. But as I knelt there before God, He led me to a passage in His word that I now call my road map for raising my kids.

I want to read this passage over my children every day. I want to write it on their hearts and inscribe it on their hands. I want them to live this way... If they live with this passage as their constant instruction, then I will have been a mother who has done well before God. I can only pray that God will give me the grace and power to teach my children to obey these words:

(Note: I know this is a long passage, but if you are a parent I urge you to take the time to read it through. Pray it over your children today and every day.)

Proverbs 4

"Hear, O sons the instruction of a father,

And give attention that you may gain understanding,

For I give you sound teaching; Do not abandon my instruction.

When I was a son to my father, 

Tender and the only son in the sight of my mother,

Then he taught me and said to me, 

Let your heart hold fast my words;

Keep my commandments and LIVE;

Acquire wisdom! Acquire understanding!

Do not forget nor turn away from the words of my mouth. 

Do not forsake her (wisdom) and she will guard you;

Love her, and she will watch over you. 

The beginning of wisdom is: Aquire wisdom.

And with all your acquiring, get understanding.

Prize her, and she will exalt you; 

She will honor you if you embrace her.

She will place on your head a garland of grace;

She will present you with a crown of BEAUTY.

"Hear my son, and accept my sayings

And the years of your life will be many.

I have directed you in the way of wisdom;

I have led you in upright paths. 

When you walk, your steps will not be impeded; 

And if you run, you will not stumble.

Take hold of instruction; do not let go. 

Guard her for she is your life. 

Do not enter the path of the wicked, 

And do not proceed in the way of evil men. 

Avoid it, do not pass by it.

Turn away from it and pass on. 

For they cannot sleep unless they do evil; 

And they are robbed of sleep unless they make someone stumble. 

For they eat the bread of wickedness and drink the wine of violence.

But the path of the righteous is like the LIGHT OF DAWN.

That shines brighter and brighter until the full day.

The way of the wicked is like darkness;

They do not know over what they stumble.

My son, give attention to my words;

Incline your ear to my sayings. 

Do not let them depart from your sight; 

Keep them in the midst of your heart, 

For they are life to those who find them

And health to all their body.

Watch over your heart with all diligence, 

For from it flow the SPRING OF LIFE.

Put away from you a deceitful mouth

And put devious speech far from you.
Let your eyes look directly ahead

And let your gaze be fixed straight in front of you.

Watch the path of your feet 

And all your ways WILL BE ESTABLISHED.

Do not turn to the right, nor to the left; 

Turn your foot from evil."

Dreams for my Daughters

I've been thinking a lot lately about what I want my daughters lives to be like. As Bryan and I lay awake at night together, dreaming about our future, that's the topic that comes up the most. How do we want their childhoods to be spent?

It took us some time, but we've realized--without doubt--that parenting is the calling God has given us for this season. (see this post for that story) In light of that realization, we want to have specific goals and dreams for our daughters.We are still searching for the full vision for their lives, but a few things are already sure:

1) I want them to be dreamers. Whenever I'm asked to describe myself as a young girl, one phrase always passes through my lips, "I was forever chasing fireflies and catching dreams". You see, I was a dreamer, and I want the same for my daughters. I fear that their generation is so full of electronics and social networking that they will lose the art of play. I don't want my daughters to connect with each other over X-box Kinect... but rather I want them to connect by losing themselves in the mystery of their own imaginations. I want them to run wild and free in a spacious backyard. I want them to climb a tree and enter a kingdom full of possibility. I don't want their fancy dress up games to be outfitting their avatars on the Wii... but rather to open a trunk in their bedroom where they've collected piles of ribbon and tulle, too big high heels and feathered boas. I want them to run barefoot through the tall grass, to feel the wind and sunshine on their faces and in their hair. I want them to learn responsibility not through having to constantly check back on their Farmville crops, but through feeding their puppies and watering their pony. I want them to run and laugh and play. To lay in the grass, look at the clouds and lose themselves in possibility. I want them to dream without limit and to hope without fear of disappointment.

2) I want them to enjoy life. I remember watching "Bridge to Terebithia" a couple of years ago. There was a scene in the movie where the little girl comes home from school and her parents tell her that they're on a mission to paint their living room gold so that by sunset, the light would bounce off the walls and "catch fire". When they're done, they all sit on the floor with popcorn and lemonade, admiring their work and enjoying that messy moment of blissful togetherness. That image has stuck with me... the idea of being carefree enough to let loose just so my children can have special, happy memories. To not worry about the messiness of life, but just to allow life to happen in its purest form--sloppy, unplanned, flawed, accidentally beautiful life.

3) I want them to know how much they're loved. ...and not only by me. I adore my beautiful girls... but I'm not the only one who does. They have a father who would give the world for them. A daddy who protects and loves them with a fierceness that takes my breath away. In a world that knows fatherlessness all too well, my daughters are blessed enough to know the love of a daddy who has given himself fully to his God-given role. They will never wonder if they are beautiful--he will tell them that they are. They will never question that they are protected--his strong arms will answer them. They will never need to look for the picture of true manhood--their father is a firm example. And Bryan's example is God. An example that will never fail--One that will pick up the pieces that Bryan can't fit. the One who will answer the questions we can't resolve. I want my girls to know how deeply and passionately their Heavenly Father yearns for their hearts. And I want for them to give Him their hearts without reserve. Only love given fully can know love completely.

I realize that those are broad, and undefined, and leave a lot to still be envisioned... but those are the 3 main things that I dream for my girls. And I hope and pray that they are dreams that will come true.