Trying to capture just a tiny moment of my heart as a Mama....

I cannot begin to explain the hundreds of thousands of words living inside of my head.  "This for sure is something I'll need to blog," I'll say.  And, it will float around in my head, being added to every few days, until I assume the thought finds a remote file to place itself on, as it rarely happens that I actually sit down to write.  I've always wondered just how it is that people can keep up with their blogs.  I envy the memories they have captured.  I had many, many beautiful moments to capture too.....but I likely never will remember them. 

I have come to understand that I am a writer.  Growing up, I always assumed that statement meant that I needed to have a great list of credentials, or have written for my school newspaper and studied journalism and writing through college.  I did neither of these. 

What I now understand about myself is that my writing is how I best express my heart.....for myself, to myself, and hopefully to someday benefit or encourage my children.  Perhaps I'll even inspire someone else in their own life journey along the way.  However, writing is my form of "scrapbooking".  (Of course, I wish I did that too, and I may.......when I'm retired. :-)  )

The problem seems to be, that these children of mine are growing up so quickly.  They said it would go by fast.  Every older person I have met in the street, at the store, or at church has said time and time again how quickly it all goes by.  The strange thing is, I didn't think I would notice until it was over.......but I am noticing!  Watching my beautiful children grow and change as the weeks and months go by is nothing short of a miracle!  Yet.....yet.....somehow I want to run out and yell, "Wait!!!! Stop!!!!!!!  I'm not ready!!!!!!" 

I'll pull a book off of the shelf to read to Grace, and my mind will go racing back to reading it to Caleb.  I realize that I didn't really read it to Emet or Ru Bear.......or that I did, and that Gracie is the last one through.  Next stop....passing on to a friend, or storing away for Grandkids. Grandkids? Really? Can I be thinking such thoughts already?

It's in these moments that I'm infinitely thankful that we have made the decision to homeschool this next year, and until God leads us otherwise.  My throat closes up and I think that I don't want to miss a single moment.....of anything.  Even the tantrums. 

What about Caleb?  How quickly he is growing up, becoming a boy......a baby no longer. Second grade this Fall!  On his first day of Kindergarten, I remember him telling me that he liked it, but he would rather just be home with me.  He missed being home with me.  I wonder if he'd still say that now?  I think he might, because he's my tender boy that doesn't want to hurt Mama's feelings.  Well, at least he still likes to snuggle with me every day. 

What about Emet?  Charging ahead into life, he is! Brave and bold.....not to be left behind in any pursuit.  In my mind right now, I can look back to him and his brother sitting in their superhero underwear together on the couch tonight looking at his Starwars LEGO book, planning to somehow obtain all of the Starwars LEGOs in the world!  No more Thomas the Train.  At least he still likes Larry Boy and likes to cuddle Mama.

What about Anna Ruth?  She has been the one to bring these thoughts to me the most lately.  Her changes have been slow, but steady.  I think it's because she's the first girl.  I've noticed lately that somehow she slipped into little girlhood, and left behind toddlerhood.....perhaps without me really noticing.  Or, I did notice.  In those "I really need to blog this" moments that I have now forgotten and never captured.  She is quite a big helper to me, the nurse of the family, and one who will disappear quietly upstairs to play dollies or read by herself.  At least she still comes down in the middle of the night and crawls in our bed to snuggle. 

What about Gracie?  I don't think she is going to give me much of a chance to hold on.  I can watch her eyes and see her calculating how to fit right in with her brothers and sisters.  They love her, and she them.....and she is not to be left behind!  But she sure loves to cuddle with her Mama.

Cuddle bugs, one and all, they are.  And, I AM SO THANKFUL to God for this gift.  For, though my mind simply cannot grasp how quickly time is passing and things are changing; though my hours cannot seem to find time for the expression of my words and memories, my arms are full of my babies who love to cuddle me. 

Oh, God.....hear my heart!  There must be a greater plan you are crafting than that we Mamas are purposed here for scrambling to grasp and capture the moments whether in words, pictures, or mementos.  Surely you are etching deep within us the very purposes for which the beautiful yet painful job of mothering involves.  Surely our hearts and souls are being transformed from the experiences that our minds may not remember, even though they were those things we never planned to forget....yet never captured....and now they are gone, to us at least. 

I trust these things to you, Oh LORD, because I cannot fathom them.  Tears stain my cheeks as I am called time and time again to "Let go" of another precious last with my children.  Even the little things move me to tears.  I receive inexplicable joy and simultaneous pain in seeing these moments pass before my very eyes, knowing that even the most precious ones, I will likely not "capture". And, even if I captured every moment.....would I miss them all in the attempt? Would I ever simply "be" in the moment and not trying to get behind it, whether in word or on camera.  I struggle with that as it is.

For those who have read my blog.....if only you knew!  If only you knew how many more precious moments and memories have occurred within the walls of this little, loved home.  If only you knew how God has so greatly transformed my mind and heart as a mother.....how much I have been humbled, and yet how much I have been raised up.

I think I fear sometimes, that, when it is all said and done.....when the last little one has left home, that I will want desperately to remember, and I won't be able to. And so, I simply must trust that you, God, have a greater purpose than I can understand, and that you won't leave me wanting when I am in need.  You haven't so far, and so I can trust that You won't then either.

Oh, God......to You, I leave this writing....to your Purpose and to your Glory.  I barely know how to process it all. My words will simply never be enough.

The best Christmas tree ever...

There would have been a time in my life when I never, EVER, would have looked at our Christmas tree this year as worthy of praise.  A somewhat misshapen tree, far shorter than I would have liked due to our short farmhouse ceilings.  Ornaments crammed far too close together and in no good pattern or order.  Plastic, shatterproof balls hung in heavy balance on the bottom branches.  A hastily scribbled paper angel, made from a paper plate, topping the tree.  No, our Christmas tree would never grace the pages of Martha Stewart Living magazine. 

Yet, as I sit here alone in our living room....lights off and enjoying the glow of the twinkling white lights, I can't help but think back on the events of today.
...Of tromping in the rain through the mud, searching for just the right $10 tree.
...Of watching the boys with their Papa, sawing away with pride at the trunk that was soon to fall.
...Of hearing the repeated question over and over...."Is it time to start decorating the tree yet?"
...Of seeing the expressions of delight as they reached into the ornament bin to evoke memories of Christmases past.
...Of remembering that everything with their names or marks makes a place for them in the family.
...Of keeping in mind that each poorly glued, hastily cut paper ornament is a source of their pride.
...Of watching Anna Ruth pick out all of the Thomas Kincaid houses, for which she clearly demonstrated awe and delight, and gently carrying them to the tree, where she would hang the heavy ornaments ever so precariously on the end of the small branches.
...Of hearing the crack of ornaments, once considered precious, treasured objects.....collected over time from various jaunts and travels....as they bounced to the ground, breaking off this piece and that.
...Of seeing the big, sad, frightened eyes as they realized they had broken something considered special....though they had tried their best....the ceramic bagpipes from Scotland, the little Thomas Kincaid cottage....the bell with the Christmas scene.
...Of realizing these little people were experiencing great joy and wonder from holding these tiny treasures in their hands, and felt a deeper disappointment than I when the object slipped from their hands.
...Of bending down, tipping up chins, wiping off tears and reassuring their precious little spirits, and mine, that everything would be ok...and that those ornaments were just things.  Just stuff.
...Of giving hugs, restoring spirits, and walking them back to the ornament bin to try once again, with a good chance of further mishaps.

Yes, there would have been a time when this tree would have been an eyesore to me.  But no longer.  It has become more beautiful to me than diamonds....more precious than gold.  There will come a day, when I won't have these little hands helping me or tears to wipe away....when no one will consider placing five ornaments on a single branch.  I'll be able to have crystal icicles and glass balls to my heart's desire.  And yet....I'm not sure I'll want to.  It may just be that I always hang a paper ornament or two and Emet's little angel on the top of our tree....or at least his child's.  

What I have in my family now is a time of tradition, of wonder, of memories and joy, or stories and "remember whens"......all surrounding the mutual gathering and decoration of our little tree.  And when those precious memories drop to the floor in a pile of rubble?  Well, I then have a chance to touch and mend, to speak directly to the core of a wounded heart, assuring that little heart that it will always have a home and a safe place in our family.....to remind that little spirit what is important in life, and it's certainly not a fragile piece of painted ceramic.

And that life treasure....I wouldn't give up for anything. In fact, this might be the best Christmas tree ever.....Well, at least so far. :-)