A Letter to My Parents

Dear Dad and Mom,

Thank you for Kansas.  I doubt you know how life on that old farm sticks with me and shapes me.   I don't know that I can express all you've given me through it.  Its like a secret I keep hidden within my chest, but I wanted to at least try to tell you: thank you for Kansas.

At the very least, you gave me wide open spaces.  You gave me the quiet sounds of nature by itself without interference.  You gave me the sound of locusts on a hot summers' day.  You gave me freedom to romp and wander through the country--wading in the creek, chasing away water skiers and dragonflies. You gave me creaking screen door sounds and the pleasure of pumping water from the old water pump out the back door.  You gave me fearful trips to the outhouse when playing outside necessitated it, leading to many wonderings about those who came there before me.  And the experience of catching magical lightning bugs flitting in the dark and visions of lightning tearing up the entire sky and rain pouring down in unrelenting sheets like I've never seen elsewhere.  You gave me opportunity to fear the dark and mysterious cellar and tornadoes that would mean going down there for more than just a jar of pickles or a dare. Forever and ever, Kansas will be in my heart.

You gave me abandoned barns full of old things left behind from mysterious people, useful for endless imaginings and fort building.  You gave me hard working days picking green beans in the intense summer humidity and lots and lots of brick carrying to help with Mom's garden.  You showed me rhubarb and honeysuckle (what a wonder!) and horse back riding and fence walking and sled riding.  Kansas is in me, its in my heart.

Dad, you gave me your love of cowboys and farms and country, of the rich smells of the earth and manure.  You both allowed me freezing days of exploring what was around each bend of the frozen creeks we skidded on and beautiful spring days of family bike rides down lonely gravel country lanes with no one around for miles and miles except the lonely sound of the bob white birds and their songs you patiently explained to me. You showed me the oddity of how horses love sugar cubes and licking salt blocks and how they swish their tails to ward off flies.  You gave me memories of dragonflies and dreaded horses flies that bite, always hovering above the backs of our horses.  I have memories of small old churches with parsonages and the smell of cheese crackers and crayons in the upstairs Sunday School rooms as well as potlucks and early sun rise services.  And of eating freshly popped popcorn from a paper bag on the roof of the pastor's shed with his rough-and-tumble boys as my companions and memories of their near-fatal falls from fearless climbing feats. Memories of sewing lessons from some lonely town lady and a gum ball machine along the route from school to the pastor's house that only cost one penny.  Kansas parades and 4th of July festivities are etched into the fabric of my being along with memories of the weeds and cracks in the sidewalks where the ashes from the snakes fireworks would smear along the hot cement.

You showed me your dreams of a dream house never finished and a swimming hole that never held water, of a farm we never really farmed, and fruit trees of all kinds that never produced fruit.  Your dreams were big and bold and beautiful like you--as were my dreams, in fact, too.  Dreams of robbers coming into our forts and actually being surprised by our booby traps, dreams of hitting intruders that never came with walnuts from our secret perch in one of the walnut trees along the drive.  Thanks for letting me spend some of my formative years in such a slow, quiet place.  Thank you for putting old things, wide open spaces, bird songs, dreaming, horses, dirt, and baseball into my heart.

I live in California now, but I see Kansas every time I visit the sea.  I breathe a huge sigh of relief when I view the big wide ocean and my eye can see and see without bumping into anything just like the plains of Kansas.  I see Kansas when I hear birds singing, perched atop blades of long swishing grasses and when I buy corn on the cob and peel back all those silks and surprisingly don't find any worms like we almost always did in Kansas.  I see it when I smell the earth and see beautiful fields of golden brown grass that most people wish was green, but I love just the way it is because it reminds me of Kansas.  Kansas is in me and I'm pretty sure its never letting go.

I just want you to know that although its possible that maybe your dreams didn't pan out exactly the way you thought they should--that old house never finished, the farm long abandoned--they very much did make a lasting impression on me and I can't imagine my life at all without your dreams of Kansas as part of my story.

Love forever,
Your Corynnie-poopies.

Mornings

Every morning at 7:00 am my alarm starts chirping, but I'm too tired to get up so I nudge my kid who appeared in my bed sometime after I fell asleep and tell him to "pass me my phone" and then I hit snooze.  It goes off again and I try really hard to get up, but my eyes are so heavy, my bed warm, and the air is too cold so I swipe open my phone hoping that maybe looking at some news or Instagram will wake me up or somehow magically inspire me to take the plunge to that cold world outside my bed.  No luck.  I fall back asleep until the alarm goes off again and maybe again until finally one of my kids gets really stressed out about being late and decides to get up (the other one couldn't care less about going to school: she's in the kitchen cutting paper while the rest of us sleep).  It still takes me a few minutes more.

We get dressed, grab some food, and head out the door where we find the car cold and dewy with its windows all fogged up. We don't have any time to waste waiting for it to warm up because we stayed in bed so long and we can't be late.  I used to have a windshield scrape-y thing somewhere, but I can't find it so I rustle around the center console and door pockets looking for something to wipe the windows with so I can actually see out of them.  I find a stiff wax paper kind of bag in the side of the door and use it to scrape the windows and mirrors.  I can't decide what to do with the wet, dirty paper so I stick it back inside the door pocket and get in.

Each day is basically the same.  The same reluctance to get out of bed, the same panic of my oldest child, and the same old, dirty, paper bag to wipe the windows.  I guess I just thought you might want to know...

Apples and Oranges

Every day at 2:15, I wait outside of school to pick up Caiden and Elliott.  Caiden comes out first and greets me with an over-the-top shout, "MOMMMMMYYYY!", her face lights up, and she runs full-force at me before throwing herself at my legs, sometimes jumping up and grabbing on to me.  She does this pretty much every single day.

Everyday--along with this brilliant greeting--Caiden presents me with a piece of fruit, in her typical nonchalant way (Caiden has two modes: over-the-top and nonchalant). "Here Mommy." as she thrusts a piece of fruit at me without really looking at my face.  I've tried to tell her that she doesn't need to take apples from school for me, but she doesn't listen.  Every day its the same: a green apple, "Here Mommy, I got this for you."  Maybe that's why I thought to write this today--today was different.  It was a mandarin today, which was kind of a shock after months and months of green apples.  I have green apples in my fridge, in my purse, in the pockets of Caiden's backpack, and driving home today I looked down and found one in the center console of my car. When I saw it there, I thought about Caiden; Caiden, who can be like a stone wall on the outside that hides a deep, deep well--a well that sends little green apples of love bobbing to the surface of its mysterious, unknown depths.

21 Books from my 2014 Library

A friend of mine posted a list of books he had read last year and I thought, "Man! That's a lot of books!" and I immediately examined my own internal list which probably was like "0" or maybe "2".  I was ashamed to realize that I wasn't investing in reading books at all!  I vowed to change that so I decided to keep a little tally for myself and record the books as I read them this year.

For as far back as I can remember, I have been a competitive person.  I distinctly remember being about 4 or 5, sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, peeling potatoes like a speed demon, and furtively stealing glances at my 3 years elder sister who was completely unaware of our "race" and was peacefully peeling potatoes on a stool of her own.  So, its not really shocking that my book list has become like a competition with myself and, alright, maybe its a tiny bit competitive with the size of my friend's list from last year.

Some books I've read are just silly "junk food" type books, some I have read with my kids, and some have been really good investments and uplifting books for my soul.  I'm a little bit embarrassed to dredge the caverns of my (reading) soul like this, but in the hopes of challenging you to read a bit more, too, here is my "so far" this year reading list…

Cryn's Books of 2014

1) A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett

2) The Perfect Storm by Sebastian Junger -- I really enjoyed this nonfiction account of this crazy storm.  It was interesting as a story, but also really informative about weather, sailing, and the sea.

3) Basic Christian,the Inside Story of John Stott by Roger Steer -- This was a very interesting and encouraging read about the life of one very influential theologian and pastor who has influenced many of the well-known theologians of our time.  This was an extremely ordinary man with the same struggles and conflicts as many of us.  His respect for his father in difficult circumstances, his ordinariness, his hobby of birdwatching and camping with friends, his diligent study, his patience and trust in God over controversies within the Christian faith were all very inspiring.

4) The Giver by Lois Lowry -- A classic, but not my favorite.  An interesting and quick read.

5) Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom -- A story about saying goodbye and death

6) Holes by Louis Sachar -- Ok, this one is embarrassing to admit, but what can I say, I needed something to read and someone had given it to the kids.  Honestly, ever since Shia LaBeouf starred in the Disney Production of the movie, I was curious what this story was about.

7) Knowing God by J. I. Packer -- This was a tough read and took me a while, but it was a great book and I would definitely recommend it.

8) Bridges with Spirit by Adam Voith -- Random short stories. Meh.

9) Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

10) Divergent by Veronica Roth -- I loved the movie, so I had to read the series.  Totally addicting teen book series.

11) Insurgent by Veronica Roth

12) Allegiant by Veronica Roth

13) The Maze Runner by James Dasher -- After my experience reading the Divergent series and having to wait for a copy from the library for forever, I decided to get a jump on the Maze Runner series before the movie came out in case I liked it.  It was ok.  I don't want to see the movie after reading the books.  Interesting story, but too gory and zombie like if it turned into a movie for me.

14) The Scorch Trials by James Dasher

15) The Death Cure by James Dasher

16) The Kill Order by James Dasher

17) The Privilege by Kay Smith -- A book about the privilege of being a pastor's wife.  Some good nuggets and some stuff to take with a grain of salt.

18) Peace Like A River by Leif Enger

19) Counterfeit Gods by Timothy Keller -- An illuminating read about the idols all of us collect, sometimes without even realizing.  This book has given me news eyes with which to view everything.  Where I once was blind to the subtleties of my and other people's idolatry, I am now much more aware and therefore equipped to deal with them. A super quick read.

20) The Prodigal God by Timothy Keller -- A beautiful and uplifting book about the parable Jesus tells about the TWO sons of a certain man and the failings of each son: the prodigal one and the one who stayed behind.  And how we often fall into the same trap as either of them. A super quick read.

Currently Reading: 21) Gilead by Marilynne Robinson

The Magical Pie Nightmare

This sounds so snobbish, but… I'm sort of against store-bought pie.  Its just really hard to bring myself to eat it.  One giant store-bought pie showed up at our house last week and Caiden kept bugging me to have some and here were my difficulties with that.  First, it was giant and I was imaging what would happen when I cut one little piece of pie out of that giant thing and then the rest of it would inevitably go to waste.  I wanted to see if anyone else would want to take the pie off of our hands.  Second, after a while, I wasn't too sure if the pie was still good.  Third, after a while after that I wondered what was wrong with the pie that no mold was growing on it or anything.  What kinds of steps were taken to preserve this thing anyway?!

But even with all my reservations, I felt kind of bad about the whole pie thing and I finally confessed to David, "I don't know what to do! Caiden wants some of this pie, but I don't really want her to have it and I'm not even sure if its good or not.  What should I do?!"

That's when he encouraged me to go with my gut and get rid of the pie with the assurance that "You guys can just make your own little galette or something."

Well, to me, those words were freedom, liberation, empowerment!  Did he just tell me to make pie? Yes, he did!

So the next day, I picked up my little fools from school and asked them what kind of pie they wanted to make.  When they couldn't agree, I thought, "What the heck; it's fall; it's a beautiful day; I made enough pie crust; why not make two pies?"  So I let them each choose what kind of small pie they would make.  In my head they would be little pies, but when Elliott decided to go with pumpkin it felt weird to picture throwing out half a batch of pumpkin pie filling so we made a whole pumpkin pie and a little apple galette for Caiden.  It was so fun to whip up some special desserts without having a special occasion or any good reason to do it.

We all were looking forward to dessert after dinner, everyone, that is except for David who is basically allergic to all forms of pie.  And that's exactly when the magical aura of delight and whimsy around our pie making adventure came crashing down around us me.  David had snuck away to the couch and I grumpily ordered him to take part in witnessing our ingestion of delightful pie whether he likes pie or not. He would not be exempt from this experience, thank you very much.  And then weirdly, something went awry with my children.  They are defective.  It turn out, they don't really like pie very much and to my horror and devastation they turned up their noses at my beautiful, flaky, buttery pie crust.  On one side of the table was a weird group of urchins who only like the pie fillings, but even then only gave it a "thumbs in the middle," which means halfway between good and bad: on the other side of the table was a handsome, but pie-grinchy, old man who detests what is inside of the pie, but delights in the crust, commanding me to put cinnamon sugar on plain crust for him next time.  In short, nobody really appreciated the pie except for me.

Oh, to have someone to appreciate pie with… Will the day ever come?!  I am halfway excited that there will be more pie leftovers just for me and halfway scared of there being more pie leftovers just for me. I know I will eat them all.

And so that is how it came to be that Elliott, Caiden, and even me, had made from scratch a pumpkin pie and apple galette.

But no one was happy.  The end.

Elliott and Caiden Visit Connecticut

All my mom's kids and a straggler grand baby (Photo Credit: Monica Montgomery)

So, my mama turned sixty years old a few days ago and my stepdad made sure to surround his bride with all six of her children and eight grandchildren for her birthday.  It was a marvelous opportunity to reunite with my family and meet some of the newer members.  The kids and I jumped on a plane to Connecticut and what I took away from the whole experience is this: you can take my kids out of the city, but you can't take the city out of my kids--not in just one week anyway.

All my mom's grand babies (Photo Credit: Monica Montgomery)

Connecticut Day 1: My sister, Heather, was searching high and low for her purse until she finally asked for help.  

"Does anyone know where my purse is??  I thought I left it on my bed."

"Oh, that was me."  Elliott said.  "I hid your purse under the bed so no one would steal it!"

Connecticut Day 2: Driving a normal route from one town to another, Caiden is completely carsick from a drive that Connecticut kids have to take every single day.

Connecticut Day 3: Driving down a paved road that has lots of cracks that have been patched, Elliott asks, "What's all that graffiti supposed to be?"

Connecticut Day 4: Grandpa is taking the kids outside to find sticks for roasting marshmallows.  Elliott worries the flashlight will die and they won't be able to find their way back to the house which is fifty yards away.

Connecticut Day 4: We were going to take some kayaks out on Burr Pond and the kids want to know what a pond is and whether it is dirty or not.

"I thought you said it wasn't dirty!" they worried when we arrived. 

And then we when we left they were so impressed and told me, "That water was so cool!  It wasn't salty at all.  When it got it my mouth it wasn't salty, it was like water you can drink!"

(Photo Credit: Monica Montgomery)

David had tried to warn me before I left.  He was so insistent about the fact that our "city kids" (as he kept calling them) would be clueless out there.  He asked me if my mom's house was next to a forest and I started cracking up.  All of Connecticut is like one giant forest.  All you can see in any direction is hills covered in trees.  Secretly I was doubtful about labeling our kids "city kids."  I thought he was being a bit dramatic, but after the week we just had in Connecticut I'm convinced he's right!  City kids it is!

That Time Caiden and I Decided to Run Away

My sister always used to threaten she would run away when we were little.  A cousin of mine actually did run away while living with us.  This particular approach never occurred to me when it came to dealing with my frustrations as a child.  I remember using tears A LOT as an outlet to frustration, but it never struck me to throw in the towel on my family.  Never, that is, until two weeks before I was free to be on my own.  It was two measly weeks until my high school graduation (at which point I planned on moving away) when I got so frustrated with my mother and felt there was so much injustice happening that I literally ran away. I ran out of the house and down the street, jumping into ditches every time a car drove past in fear that my mother would find me and take me home. I ran all the way to the outskirts of town and eventually ended up in the home of a friend.  My mom and I patched things up a few days later and I came home, finished school, and moved away.  Twelve years went by before I felt any kind of remorse or guilt about my decision.  Until then, I had felt completely justified.  Completely at peace with my decision until the Holy Spirit brought conviction about this thing I hardly ever even think about any more.  It all happened when my own little girl made the decision recently that it was time for her to pack up her things and "get out of Dodge."

A few weeks ago, as I was getting out of the shower, an unhappy little six year old with an iron will and tangled hair came marching into the bathroom with her backpack on and her "Pink Blanket" in her hand.  "I'm running away from home!" she declared with a pouting look.

"Oh man." I thought wryly, "How can we be here already?" I really hadn't expected to deal with the whole running away scenario until teen years, if ever.

We talked there in the bathroom--me in my towel with dripping wet hair, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet and her standing before me with her backpack and determined face.  I asked her why she wanted to run away and explained why its not okay to run away from your problems.  I also tried to evoke some compassion for the feelings of her conscientious big brother who was probably scared as his little sister was packing up to run away while Mom was in the shower.  We talked about some other things and she apologized and had a change of heart.  She assured me that she wouldn't do it again.

A few nights later, David and I had a confrontation and battle of wills with Caiden right before bed.  Now that she was an old pro at this she threatened the run away thing again.  We had to have a serious conversation about obedience and trust.  I asked Caiden if she trusted God. I asked her if she loved God.  I reminded her that Jesus says "If you love me, you will keep my commandments." in John 14:15 and that His word says, "Children, obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord." Colossians 3:20.   I told her that if she leaves the family God placed her in, she would be disobeying and leaving God's will for her life, because God put her parents in authority over her ("There is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God." Romans 13:1) In leaving, she would be saying that she knows better than God.*  In essence, she would be saying that she doesn't trust Him.  I told her that if she loves and trusts God, she needs to trust that He knows what He's doing when He placed her in her family.  As I spoke these words of truth from God's word, His word also pierced MY heart.  I remembered my actions all those years ago and all the circumstances surrounding them.  Nothing changed as far as my perspective or view of the circumstances, but I clearly saw that in leaving my family in such a way, even if I had felt wronged, was an act of disobedience to my Lord and also one of mistrust.  I was surprised by this change of heart, because nothing could have convinced me that I was in the wrong except for God's Spirit speaking to my heart and changing it.  I felt I must repent and make amends with my mom.

I love how He does that.  It lends an incredible amount of peace to my life in knowing that I need not spend all of my moments worrying and second guessing everything I've ever done, but can--in entrusting my life to following and loving Jesus--rest, knowing He is responsible for convicting me of sin and convicting my children, too.  I don't need to nor can I successfully micromanage these things.  If I do, I end up placing my trust in myself and my own abilities instead of spending my time enjoying Jesus and the relationship with God that He has made available to me through His work in living a perfect life in my place already and then taking my punishment for my sins. I am not resting in that work and enjoying Him, instead I am trying to do that same work myself as if His work wasn't good enough!

His worthiness to be trusted with these things has been evidenced to me exponentially, lately, as just yesterday, Caiden came to me out of the blue, confessing that she sometimes would throw her homework away last year.  I couldn't help but laugh, knowing how much Caiden hates homework and how much we battled over it last year.  At the same time I realized, with awe, how much God holds my little girl in His hands.  I might not catch every wrong thing my kids do, but He misses nothing.  I cannot force my children to love and obey Him, but His Spirit clearly works in them to do both. I may not always handle each parenting situation right; I may sometimes frustrate my child to the point where she deceives me and throws away her homework, but luckily God knows what He's doing when He allows one broken person who desperately needs God to steward and disciple another broken person who desperately needs Him, too, and He's faithful to work in both of us to sanctify us and He is "able to keep [us] from stumbling and present [us] blameless before the presence of His glory with great joy" (Jude 1:24).  The only way I know to parent is to humbly cling to Jesus, point to Jesus, and hope in Jesus.

*To be clear, this post was not written to condemn anyone who has left an abusive situation and/or left a situation in the interest of safety.  That would be an entirely different matter.

An Unexpected Moment with Jesus

Have you had a moment where God speaks to you so clearly you can't doubt that it's Him? The kind of moment you hold on to for the rest of your days and refer back to as a pillar of remembrance to His faithfulness?  The Lord has been gracious to me and faithfully taught me and spoken to me over the years through His word and through His people.  But He has also given me a few of those arresting moments in my life where His voice is loud and bold in speaking to my heart, transfixing me with His love.

One of those moments happened, unexpectedly, to me last week.  We had a new church member over having dinner with us and just before she left she casually handed me a shopping bag announcing that she bought me a gift and it just so happened to be my "half birthday"--or so she had discovered over dinner.

I opened the bag and inside was just this extravagant gift: a beautiful and carefully chosen handbag.  Not a hand me down (although I love hand me downs!), this was a name brand handbag--for me, an almost stranger to her--and I was just floored.  Like a gaping, staring, jumbling, teary eyed mess, I could not find words; I stumbled over my sentences.  I mean, who wouldn't love to be given an expensive gift?  But it was more than that.  It didn't make sense.  I could find no reason or explanation for such a gift--no prolonged friendship or previous debt she owed me, no magnificent feats or overly thoughtful deeds on my part, no intimate acquaintance or particularly shared interest.  Not only that, but it was the magnitude of the gift that was so confounding.  Again, who wouldn't be surprised by an extravagant gift?  But this was more than that.  The handbag won't last forever and the novelty of such a lovely thing will wear off, but what really happened to me in that moment was that I saw the love of Christ which surpasses all understanding.  I saw a gift that was modeled after the one that God has given to me in Christ Jesus.  A gift with insurmountable worth for no conceivable reason--an unmerited outpouring of extravagant favor.  It makes no sense!  And in that moment and the ones to come I was broken, humbled, and elated at the knowledge of God's love for me: how he loves me and pours out this unexpected and overwhelming love on me though I am undeserving.  Yes, it reminded me of this spiritual truth of my salvation, but it also demonstrated a current outpouring of undeserved love and favor from God at that very moment--a current grace.  I know I have salvation, but God reminded me that He continues to love and bless me all throughout my life and can at any moment arrest my attention with it.  I now call it "Betsy Johnsoning" me.  He tells me in His word that He has not withheld any good from me.  He has given me His best and His all without holding back any good when He gave me His one and only Son.  All that He does and allows in my life is viewed through that lens and security of His love--even the hard and heartbreaking things.  But at any moment He can swoop in and reveal Himself and His character and His overwhelming love to me by sending someone to my door with a Betsey Johnson bag for no reason and leave me completely gasping and wordless in awe of Him and His love for me. He doesn't always do it that way and He doesn't have to, because He has already given me His all and demonstrated once and for all His love for me by laying down His life for mine while I was His enemy--but at any time, in His own time, He can and He does.  In a time when I didn't feel worthy, wasn't looking,  and was doing nothing to earn, merit, or find Him, there He was before me displaying for my broken heart to see the magnificent firework show of His overwhelming love for me.  Why?  Because He is love--the very embodiment of it--because He loves me, and because He has chosen to set His love on me.  And I am undone.

A gift like that makes me want to love people boldly, extravagantly, and fiercely.  I want people to see how ridiculously crazy God's love is: how nonsensical and beyond reason it is to be loved like that.  Its like an electric shock to our souls when we are loved by Him.  And I can only love people in an arresting way like that through Him.  Without Him, all my efforts fall far short of magnificent like a little broken firework that never makes it past the first blade of grass before fizzling out.  Fill me up and send me out, Lord.

Anniversary de Proposal

Happy Cinco de Mayo!  For me, its the day 11 years ago, that David and I got engaged.  For the whole story, click the link for this old post.

David and me at our engagement party.  19 years old.

The Time We Walked on Water

Errands were being run, people were coming over, there projects that needed to be worked on, and I was trying to figure out just how many things I could cram into the precious minutes left between leaving one store and getting to another and still have time to get home, tidy up, and prepare for our guests.

I was dragging Elliott and Caiden along on this endeavor, of course, and as we were driving along the road (we happened to be on an island) we glanced over to our left--where the land met the San Francisco bay--and beheld such a beautiful sight; the sun was setting down beneath San Francisco, setting the water aglow.  The tide was out farther than I've ever seen it.  The kids and I were in awe and suddenly I realized that the things that were driving me (chores, errands, projects) were not my captors--I held the keys to our freedom.  The choice was mine--stop and enjoy this beautiful moment or carry on and let the moment pass us by.

We stopped.  And it was beautiful and a thrillingly captivating adventure.  We made our way out, out, out onto the ooey gooey sand, treading upon surfaces which are normally forbidden to all except the sea creatures who make their home there.  We were a little wary and scared and I kept yelling at Caiden to try not to step too much in the puddles, but it was no use--her feet got soaked; all of our feet got wet and mucky, but no matter.  We triumphantly made it all the way out to the water's edge and soaked it all in.  We looked back to see how far we'd come; we watched and listened to the salty birds stretching their wings and exercising their lungs; we looked at all of the colors the sun was making; and we got surprised by the tide creeping in that got our toes even more wet inside of our shoes.  It was stinky, and wet, and beautiful.

For just a few moments during a very busy time, we had actually stopped and "smelled the roses" and its a stop I've never regretted.

We drank in God's beauty, thanked Him, and then jumped back on to the moving walkway of life, scrambled home, made dinner, and enjoyed the company of others.

A Cup of Cocoa With Caiden

Have you ever noticed how after knowing a person for a while, you sometimes stop trying to get to know them?  That happens to me sometimes, especially with my family.  I've known my kids since birth and I see them every day so sometimes I simply assume I know everything I need to know.  But really, they have new thoughts and feelings every moment about which I will have no idea unless I ask.  Thank God for prayer, because without it, how would I ever make it as a parent?!  I think I would shrivel up with anxiety and stress.  There is so much I can miss out on and fail in.  But because of the promises in God's word I can rest.  Promises about how if I lack wisdom, I can ask God for it and He will liberally give me wisdom and not reproach me for asking.  Consequently, I am always asking Him for wisdom for how to steward over my kids and how to love them well; how to know them and understand their needs; how to use my time wisely and how to invest in them.  I don't always succeed, but there is grace for that as well and I know that God will complete the work He has started in my kids, regardless of my own shortcomings as a parent.

Today I realized that Caiden and I had an hour to ourselves while Elliott had basketball practice after school.  I considered all the things I could get done and all the errands I could run in that time, dragging Caiden along with me since she doesn't mind those sorts of things.  But I really felt prompted to lay aside my tasks and devote one small hour to some down time with just my little daughter and me.

So Caiden and I had an impromptu date at a little cafe near school.  We each got a hot chocolate (Caiden was delighted to discover the term "hot cocoa" today.  She's a language nerd.) and Caiden picked out a giant ginger cookie for us to split.  I really had to insist on the splitting part.  Caiden and I had a whole discussion on the way over to the cafe about what kind of treat we would get.  I suggested splitting a cookie and Caiden countered that suggestion with the idea of us each getting our own in case we couldn't agree on a flavor.  I told her that it is kind of nice to share something together, so she suggested we each get our own cookie and then split both cookies in half and share them.  In the end we got just one cookie and the flavor was fine for both of us. Mom 1, Caiden 0.

After we ordered, I let Caiden pick a spot to sit and she chose a table for 4 and I guiltily agreed since she's so cute and the shop didn't look too busy.  As soon as we sat down, the cafe filled up right along with my guilty conscience, but Caiden didn't notice and I didn't tell her that we were hogging up more room than we needed.  I noticed they had sugar cubes there, so I got one for her to try, remembering when my dad had let me try one once as a little girl when we had brought them as a snack to our horses.  Sadly, Caiden was not a fan of the sugar cube.  She also didn't like the homemade whipped cream in her cocoa so I scooped it out with a spoon and put it on the cookie plate.  After she had painstakingly drunk every last drop of hot chocolate by slurping it off of her spoon (this took roughly 35 minutes), she proceeded to eat the whipped cream by taking little swipes of it off the plate with her finger and licking it.  Meanwhile, I just let her talk.  

"We had science today.  I didn't tell you about that, but we have science sometimes."  

There were a few things that came up in conversation that she "hadn't told me about" before.  I gather, from these little comments, that Caiden really likes me to know what's happening in her life.  Sometimes at home she will be sitting on the toilet, or on her way to the toilet, and just randomly tell me some little tidbit of information that is completely pulled out of the sky, but is also some important detail she suddenly remembered to tell me.

As I sat in the coffee shop with my little six year old--who was a little unkempt, a little bit jumbled, and slightly ornery--I just kept praying that God would take this small hour and this little investment of my time (that yielded no immediate earth-shattering results) and multiply its yield.  In general, as a mom, I am just trusting Him to take my labor and cause there to be fruit.  Because labor as I might, I can never make anything actually grow--only God can make things grow.  So, I'll invest my time, I'll give up a little hour here, a few moments there, a listening ear, a focused gaze, I'll try to stop what I'm doing and turn my ear to my little ones when they seek my attention and then I'll trust God to make all of those little moments pay off.  And as I go, I pray, pray, pray for wisdom!

"If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him." --James 1:5

"So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth." --I Corinthians 3:7

The Time I Learned Caiden's Secret Identity

I have a daughter with a secret identity who leads a double life--she's only six years old.

Caiden is a mysterious six year old.  She also is extremely indecisive, which is why we make her pick out her clothes for school the night before.  Last night, she picked out her clothes and explained to me why she was choosing certain items. The outfit was khaki pants, a green baseball-type tee with glitter and the number 10 across the chest, and her Nike Air Jordans.  She told me there was going to be a running contest at school the next day so that's why she picked the shirt.  She kept talking about this running contest and I kept asking questions trying to figure out what was going on.

"We have to run around the WHOLE playground!" she told me.

In the morning, she got ready for school and we talked about it some more.  All she wanted for breakfast was an apple so on the way to school I made sure to remind her, "Make sure to eat school breakfast so you can have energy for the race!  Good luck!"  And then, just to tease her I asked, "Are you going to get 10th place? Because of your shirt?"  She smiled and got out of the car.

I was very curious about this race, so when I picked her up after school I asked her how it went and how she did.  I was worried she might be disappointed.

"I won!" she cried.  "I won 1st place!"

"What??" I asked.  I was completely shocked.  Caiden has not really exhibited much of an athletic personality so far.  And she hates things that have a winner and a loser.  She usually refuses to participate in things like that...  "Who did you race against?" I demanded.

We went back and forth for a few seconds until she explained, "I won the race.  And I am also the one who made up the race.  I raced everyone who was running around on the playground."

"Did they know they were racing you?"

"Nope!"

So, it turns out that this whole time for the past day and half, our whole family has been involved in supporting Caiden for a school race that never even existed! HAHAHA!  This is exactly Caiden.  Caiden, who, I just found out at my recent "parent-teacher conference", has been secretly going by the nickname "Katie" at school.  "I asked her if it was okay and she said, 'yes'," her teacher responded when I corrected her by saying,

"You know her name is Caiden, right?"

After my conference, I asked Caiden if it was true that she was okay being called Katie and she said yes.

"Why?" I asked.

"I just prefer it." she answered nonchalantly.

"You PREFER it???"  I spit out.

"...at school." she replied simply.

These are the times I feel like Caiden has a secret life that I know nothing about.  Every once in a while she will throw me a bone and let me in on her hidden world, but randomly and when I least expect it.  I always have to be on the lookout for when she's dropping breadcrumbs or I'll miss out on the path that leads to knowledge.  Knowledge of the inner workings of Caiden's brain.

I Have a City Love

When I was seventeen and Dave was seventeen, we met at church summer camp through a shared friend.  We immediately bonded over a mutual affection for the movie, Newsies, and love for the great city of New York, in which the movie was set.  Having spent at least half of the next hour talking about Newsies and New York, David vowed that we would meet up in New York City one day to enjoy it together--I was a little dubious... However, due to unforeseen events later that year, we did just that!  David came to New York City with his church and my little sister and I took the train from Connecticut, into the city for the day.  We spent eight glorious hours together exploring the city, hand in hand.  Two years after that we were wed.

For our honeymoon, we explored the great city of London together for ten glorious days.  We came home with London in our hearts, smiles on our faces, and lots of new shoes in our suitcases, but much to Dave's mom's chagrin, no pictures whatsoever of anything touristy one might hope to see in London.

With the way things started--travel wise--it should be no surprise that we had high hopes for traveling together to many other great cities in the future...  But as our anniversary rolled around each year, we schemed and planned... only to end up enjoying each others company on a picnic date somewhere nearby, dinner at a restaurant, or a day together in nearby San Francisco (which counts as a city, by the way, but we live near it, so its not quite the same).

Finally, as year nine crawled slowly toward year ten, David put his foot down and said, "This money is earmarked for our ten year anniversary and this year we're gonna go somewhere." I was little dubious.

Despite my dubiosity (I just made up another word), or lack of faith, our ten year anniversary rolled around and we found ourselves on a plane bound for Portland, Oregon! Another city to explore together and (thanks to Allison for babysitting) six glorious days to do it.

Now that we are twenty-nine and thirty years old, ten years into our marriage, and parents to two lovely children, I find traveling and exploring with David even more enjoyable than before.  I am so thankful for such a friend and constant companion and look forward to visiting many more cities together in years to come...  Hopefully before our twentieth year of marriage.

There were so many interesting things to see in Portland, I couldn't stop taking pictures! Ten years ago, in London, we didn't have "camera phones" and we didn't have cellphones at all twelve years ago in New York.  My, how times have changed!  This year--thanks to the iPhone--we have plenty of pictures to share with Dave's mom and to share with you, as well... 

It looks like we got home just in time, because Caiden had already put up missing person parent posters!