on a more positive note...

John had naked time today in the big, beautiful sun (with his big beautiful buns!).
I think he thoroughly enjoyed himself.
It's been so fun to explore with him this spring. He seems to take in so much!
The wind catches his breath and the sun makes him sneeze. He turns his head to listen to a bird singing and giggles at the feel of the grass.
I'm amazed to think about how much he is learning every moment. And I get to introduce him to the world!!!



Andrea came over today and we had a lovely time sitting outside with our boys. That is her darling son Noah, whom we are certian will be one of John's dearest friends. So far their relationship consists of Noah sucking on John's foot and John giving a blank stare...We're still working on relational etiquette.
It was wonderful to be alive today with great friends and glorious weather.

Educating my Emotions

"Ascension is one of the harder things about being a Christian, I find. Think how much easier belief would be if Jesus had just hung around Earth for the last 2,000 years. It is sometimes a challenge to remember the Incarnation—to remember that God actually has a body and is not invisible when He seems invisible, because He happens to be up in Heaven." Lauren Winner
( www.laurenwinner.net I would reccomend anything she has written. She's excellent!)


Why is it so hard to trust the Lord?
Is it because I can't see Him?
I know He's so real but it's hard to hold onto sometimes when my problems seem more visible than He does. But is seeing really believing?
Sometimes I think about the Israelites and all of the signs and wonders they saw. Doesn't it blow your mind how few chapters of Exodus separate the parting of the Red Sea and the golden calf? I've always thought that I would have more faith than they did if I saw God's hand work in such obvious ways.
And yet I do the exact same thing.
God has so obviously provided for me. He has moved his hand in my life in a multitude of ways. Many times I have been at the end of my rope and He has rescued me just in the nick of time. But each time I face a new challenge my faith falters.
"Has God forgotten me? Where is He? How will I get through this one?"
Will I ever instinctively trust Him? Does He have to keep proving Himself to me? Hasn't He already done enough to merit my eternal, unwavering trust? Do I really have the gall to question the Master of the Universe?
Apparently I do.
"Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death?" Romans 7:24

I'm human and thus fallen. We were originally made to trust God but sin has twisted that. Now I doubt Him unreasonably. But I have new life in Christ!!! He points me to hope and a future! God will provide everything I need. I can trust what I know to be true about Him. And that is a truth more real than the doubts in my head.

Say What?

I was chatting with my mother today about journaling.
She's struggling with the whole concept because she doesn't feel that she has anything important to write about.
I've had similar conversations with others who find themselves with writer's block when it comes to recording personal thoughts. "What's so important or exciting in my life?" "I don't have anything profound to say."
I have gone through large patches of my life without writing anything down and I have regretted it. Why didn't I write about my first year of marriage? What an interesting time of life that was! Now I have to rely on my memory to re-live those fun days. I wish I had at least written down the events and a little of how I was feeling at the time.
Journaling for me takes the place of therapy (some close friends and family may wish I had opted for the therapy). When I see my thoughts and emotions on paper they seem less overwhelming and I have an easier time being objective. However this usually means that I would be tempted to dismember anyone who tried to read my journal. No one, not even Chris is allowed access to my journal uninvited.
So this makes blogging a bit different than journaling. By posting this on the web I am inviting you, my (if only imaginary) reader, to read my thoughts. Because I have a respect for the general well-being of mankind, I will not confide in my blog like I do my journal. No one needs to be put through that.
I write about my life. As a stay-at-home-mom my life consists of diapers and spit-up and other less than savory gifts from my child. This isn't the stuff of a best selling novel. But this is the life I have chosen. These are the people I have chosen to give my life to. Aren't they precious?!
(I love this picture!)
If I value Chris and John enough to give my days to them, then their daily events matter. It's not always glamorous, but it's important. So I'm going to write about it.
I write to make sense of the thoughts in my head. I write so I can show the world my beautiful family. I write so I can see that I'm doing something with my days. Sometimes I write just to enjoy the sound of my fingers on the keyboard.
I write because I can.
I want to remember these days and how I feel right now (currently I am tired and hungry). I want to remind myself of what makes the people in my life so special. I want to look back and see how God was working in my life and how he has grown me.
I hope my Mom finds herself journaling soon. I think her life is so important. It's so important to me! She has much wisdom and experience to fill many pages.
I think she has plenty to write about.

Hands

I've always had a strange thing for looking at hands.
I think John has my father's hands.
It's funny when people say things like this about little babies because they don't really look like anyone but themselves. But if his hands resembled anyone's, it would be my dad's.
I think this is a tremendous compliment to give to someone so young.
Dad's hands look masculine and strong but gentle. His hands are wide and thick, providing him with a handshake not to be trifled with. I love my dad's hands.
But more than just looking at his hands, I love what his hands do.
His hands have written out thousands of Scripture verses to be meditated on and memorized. They have written thousands of sermons to challenge and encourage God's people. His hands have comforted many wounded hearts and shown them God's healing. They have pointed many people to the truth through his faithful prayers and guidance.
My father's hands have held my mother's for over thirty years now. He has walked by her side through some of life's stormiest days, supporting her with those very same hands.
Those hands have held his children with tenderness and love albeit mixed with a little fear and trembling. They have taught those children to pray and to follow the God of their father with their whole hearts.
My father's hands have wiped tears from my eyes and held me in those times when life just didn't make sense. And it was his hand that gave me away to the man he trusted with my love and my life almost three years ago.
I love knowing that every morning my dad's hands are raised to heaven in prayer for me and my family. His hands still help guide and support my life. His hands have been so faithful.
I love that John has his Papa's hands. I pray to God that his hands will be just like my dad's. That they will serve the Lord and love his family as my father has done.
I can think of no greater desire for my son.

April 4, 2006

Today John and I went to Barnes and Noble. It was a beautiful, sunny, spring day but the wind kept us indoors. Even when I'm inside just knowing that the sun is out puts me in a better mood. I mainly went out because I had the means (transportation) to do so. It's amazing what the freedom of a vehicle will do for a new mom.
While I was supporting my local Starbucks distributor (as every good Jeffery should) I made my usual Barnes & Noble rounds. I am terribly predictable. I walk in the door and make a right down one of the first aisles. There I select 5-10 books on my artistic expression of choice (knitting, crocheting or jewelry making). (I cringe at saying crafting because it conjures up horrible images of 1980's country knick-knacks.) Then I plant myself in the cafe in the back, most private corner and absorb as much as I can of what I read. I'm always overwhelmed by all the ideas I see.
I tend to be ADD when it comes to "crafting". I find a great idea and want to start it as soon as is humanly possible and then I get bored until the next inspiration comes along. I am proud to say that I am currently only involved in two yarn projects. One of them is going to be my first afghan. Right now it is just two balls of yarn and a crochet hook but soon it will be a beautiful and comfy blanket... I hope. Some of my great ideas sit in the back of my knitting box, unfinished, taunting me from across the room. There's something of failure mixed in with my impulsive "crafting". I feel guilty that I'm not always faithful with what I start. Maybe I should be finding some deep meaning (namely that last phrase) about myself in this tendency. Or maybe I should just stop looking at knitting books. For now I think I'll start my afghan and see where it takes me.

the eyes have it

My son can't speak yet.
At 3 1/2 months I think he's a brilliant child, but not that advanced.
He communicates in various and often impolite grunts and squeals, with the occasional wail. But his most effective mode of communication is with his eyes. They are settling into a nice shade of brown with a little green in the mix, absolutely beautiful.
He is currently staring at his picture on the screen with wide eyes. Maybe he thinks he's beautiful too. (we'll have to work on the humility thing later)
I wish I knew the thoughts behind those eyes. What is it that is making him laugh and squint them up into little slits? What made him cry and fill them with tears while his little lip went into full pout? Right now I'm the one that does the talking in our relationship. Someday he will have much to add to our conversation. I can't wait to hear his thoughts.

It's been said that he has the Jeffery eyes. When I was little I was told my eyes got me into trouble. Our family was moving and I so desperately wanted to tell my dearest friend. I came home from school one day and told my mother that I didn't say anything to her but "I told her with my eyes." She didn't get the message but I felt better and my parents got a good laugh.

His eyes are not my eyes, they are his own (if they were mine he would be in desperate need of glasses). I wonder how he will see life through them? I pray every day that he will see his world through the lense of God's Word. Life doesn't begin to make sense until then. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the responsibility of showing him how to live life this way. I fail so often. But I can show him a work of God's grace in progress. And that's all any of us really have to offer. God's grace poured through His clumsy children.