when i miss her...

my cousin from the great and white north comes to visit me in the middle of a snowstorm.

she brings a bit of home that helps ease an ache in my heart

and she brings words.

lots of them.

this cousin that comes to visit is one i didn't know growing up and it seems that we enjoy making up for lost time.


she brings them out on an evening that finds us sitting quiet and listening to frank and ella and i have to pause because what i hold in my hands is exceedingly precious.

my hands hold onto something that had rested in my gramma's hands and more than anything

i just want to hold those hands once more.


instead, i hold her very first knitting needles against my palm and i can barely breathe.


and i want her back.

i want to know what all she made with needles as thin as these.


were these the ones that she used to knit as she sat in front of her stove on a rainy night in scotland?  that fire she blamed over and over for discolouring her shins?

i want to hear the roll of her r's


smell her perfume,

feel her arms pull me tight against her,

and watch her as she baked pies and bread and buns

and then sat down to cheat at skipbo.


i want to lay in my bed,

tucked in under my covers,

and hear her voice drift into my room as she knelt in her own

and prayed.


my sleep was always ushered in on the moments that found her bowing low before Jesus.


as a child, i loved her.

as a woman, i long to know her more.


instead, i miss her and cherish what i have until i see her again in the presence of Jesus.


i finally honour my word to my friend and come to the knitting circle at our church after the little ones are in bed,

i pull out my yarn and needles to join the rhythm of stitches and conversation

and i watch as help is asked for

and help is given

and the robin's egg blue builds another row on my needles...


i join another group of women this afternoon,

i sit by another friend who invited me to come.

she doesn't know that i have been questioning Him,

asking for guidance and wisdom,

feeling a little lost and needing a Word.


and it's in the middle of what the speaker is saying

when my heart starts beating loud and fast...


she's talking about our children and their children

and if we don't capture their hearts now,

what hearts will be caring for the hearts of their children?

and then she says those two words that stop everything else in the room and i can barely sit still...

it's called generational living.

so often, and rightly so, the term generational sins is brought out and parents are called to break them courageously and with the help of Jesus, and yes!  let's break them and break out of pain and bondage that has crippled our families and will keep doing so if we sit and do nothing - 

but what comes after?

and this is where i have sat lost

until He shouts it into my heart through the dark-haired woman passionately speaking of her love for Him;


we live.


we live!

He came so that we could have life - and have it abundantly!

and i think of those knitting needles - the very first ones that my gramma used,

of all of those stitches being added to and built upon in that little room in our church last night,

of the hope that He gave when i least expected it this afternoon...

He is a God Who builds upon losses and gains and creates something achingly beautiful if we let Him.

with hands wide open and a heart willing to accept whatever it is that He places before us, we can join Him in a dizzingly intricate journey that throws joy and sorrow up against each other and brings His Name glory and leads our children to do the same.

oh, i want a life like that.

(thank you, naomi, for taking the picture of our gramma's knitting needles and sending me a copy. i miss you. :<)

the month of here {day27}...sunday evenings

i sit at the table surrounded by books and papers and notes.

i prepare for a new school week and her.

if we had never packed up our life and moved it all south, i never would have found myself here.


and while it's not for everyone and our school days are far from perfect,

liv and elias wrestle for cars and shout loud at each other,

random questions are asked that have nothing to do with the subject at hand,

and sometimes this mama feels slightly out of her league.


but she has such a quick mind that grasps so much,

and a memory that rivals her father's.

i smile because we learn the same

and so far love the same subjects.


we snuggle on the couch with our read-alouds and sit at the table with the flash cards and math.

she laughs at the silly science experiments and ponders those vikings and cave men and henry VIII.

and quiet sunday evenings find me at the kitchen table preparing for another week of learning ahead, preparing to invest even more into her life.


i am so proud of my lyla and her determined spirit.  her joy and love of learning...

of the way she teaches me to be more patient and compassionate.


we're doing okay, her and i and i wouldn't trade these days for anything.

and i give thanks on this twenty-seventh day of this month that finds us here...and that every moment has the possibility to teach.

day one...

i can't really remember when the conversation happened,

the one between his mama and me.

when she gently brought up the idea and i laughed and told her it wasn't for me.


but she persisted, in a soft sort of way and it's always been there in the back of my mind.


it's not conventional though, in my head at least.

something i've laughed at and shook my head at, wondered why anyone would choose to make that decision.


and then...

i made it.

i made that decision to be unconventional.  to go a different route and make a different choice.

i planted it deep in the midst of chaos and instability, in the midst of wide-eyed wonderings in the middle of the night.


the big brown boxes have arrived on my front door, all taped up and holding the path that our next year will follow.

and this weekend was spent unpacking and sorting, organizing and making notes...

lots and lots of notes...

i laid my head down in the dark of the night and realized, when i awoke in the morning, life was going to change.

oh, not in a car-pooling sort of way, or packing-lunches kind of way.

i think i thought, however naively, that by making this decision to school at home, life would remain pretty much the same.


but as we bent over the lessons this morning, us three...

as my carefully laid out schedule took some turns i wasn't expecting,

i got to watch my little girl's face light up with discovery.

we got to lay down together on the floor and dig deep into the earth and the past.

we giggled over writing a letter and building a collage,

i got to look at her face and watch her learn.


no, it may be unconventional.

it may even be a little bit different.


and while i agree it may not be for everyone...

it's a journey that is right for us.


she started kindergarten this morning...

life will never be the same.


(and miss olivia didn't want to be left out either...)

(and where is elias, you ask?  yeah.  he was too busy smashing his cars together...)


and this...*this* is a gift, to grow along side of them.  to guide them as they learn.  to be a part of  their lives in this big and small way.

happy first day of school...


*1124.  the beginning of a brand new month
*1125. the last week before he has his own store
*1126. livie's belly laugh, lyla's smile, elias' stinky feet
*1127. sunday service spent in fellowship - bob sitting down
*1128. finding out curriculum's been shipped, new ink
*1129. that the answer is *wait*, that His timing is perfect
*1130. footie-jammies made of fleece and the 2 that still wear them
*1131. an night out with friends and tony waiting for me on the front porch in the dark of night
*1132. almost all the books organized and lined up on the shelf
*1133. words that calm and inspire.  amazing children, passionate husband
*1134. He is stronger than my weakness.  big martha's meatloaf