wordings

I love Evie-speak. Its English with a twist. A mixed up jumble of words that are real, words that are almost real and words that are random word-like sounds seemingly pulled from nowhere and used as effortlessly as the air she breathes. And then she launches off into a story made of words that simply are not. We often ask her if she speaks Chinese and she thinks we are hilarious. The feeling is quite mutual.

Today she started digging in my flower pots, pots full of rich, black soil and petunias. After a bit I noticed her doings and chided her. She was instantly full of remorse and began to put the "comtist" back. "The what?" I asked her. "The comtist," she replied matter-of-factly and scooped up a handful. It took me a minute, but it got it. Compost. We have been gardening lately and picked up a large load of compost for our garden. I guess it made an impression.

In Evie-speak, most words are made plural by adding "is" at the end. Geese-is. Snack-is. Swing-is. Book-is. There are some exceptions to this rule, however, but they are entirely at her discretion. We were out and about the other day when she launched into a story about being hungry and needing a "snack-is." I asked her where she heard the words she used. "From speakings," she replied,"I listen to speakings."

Evie can see the elementary school park from our front yard. Often, during the day, she runs out and looks down the street to see if children are playing there. If she sees them there, she calls out dramatically,"Oh my stars! The kids are there at my park. What are we going to do about this?" Sometimes its "Oh my stars and stripes!" Recently, however, due to a sweet little music CD she loves to listen to which has a song with the words "Oh my gosh" in it, she has changed her exclamation. "Oh my gosh and stars!" she says with a flourish, leaning a little forward and to the side with her arms stretched out, her face contorted.

Some words are simply made up, but they are inserted into regular sentences or songs with ease. Hosqwack. Cockwass. Sibbies. Bahbah. Sometimes there are others, but these are the usuals. They are most often used in place of nouns. When we ask her what these words mean, she erupts into raucous laughter. What do they really mean? We may never know.

She loves to talk...and sing. Sometimes she talks faster than her mind can formulate words so groupings of sounds take their place. Other times, she can come up with stories so quickly I can hardly follow along. Songs are often a narration of the current events set to music. Maybe, just maybe she comes by that honestly...

What is an "eyetip"? A contact. An "eartip"? A Q-tip. Hot summer days are perfect for a dip in a "swimming cool." "Pincils" are yogurt covered pretzels from the bulk bins at Grassroots co-op. That big brown delivery truck that zooms through the neighborhood? The P.S truck. A tasty snack or meal is followed by a lip smack and a "thank you, this is TA- LICIOUS!" Evie always loves a trip to "Nards!", the home improvement store that makes her so excited she throws her hands up in the air.

Her little mind captures the world so she can describe it later. And when she tells us of her observations, we are enchanted not only by her speakings but also by the music of her voice.  The most mediocre of words is made alive with it's sound. A curly topped fairy who dances to the notes her own melodies, scrunching her face together to grasp a new thought or leaning forward with one arm outstretched in awe of what's before her. Wonder.

This morning she dressed for a trip to Costco. A jumper, a shimmery, fur collared jacket and her glittery princess shoes. I didn't contest her choice, beg her to wear something "normal." I complimented her fancy-ness, she answered with glasses and jewelry galore. I packed a bag of  "normal" clothes and by the time we reached our destination she was ready to lose the jewelry, glasses, shimmery jacket and shoes. So we did a costume change right there in the car, no questions asked. And then we shopped and she filled my cart with wordings and laughter.

"This is what I wear to Costco," she explained," My dress. My sparkly jacket. My princess heart shoes. My glasses. My neckace. I'm ready to go."

happy mama

The sound of little feet padding up beside my bed brought me back from the land of nod. I opened my eyes to see a curly-mopped girl handing me a purple piece of paper. "Happy Mothers Day," she announced her eyes still full of sleep.

Behind her walked daddy, the tray in his hands bringing with it sweet smells of breakfast delights. He set it down beside me. Freshly made waffles and eggs. Maple syrup and a glass of orange juice. Strawberries and butter. A tiny bouquet of violas from our little garden and a card full of sweet nothings. "Happy Mother's Day," he echoed.

Such a surprise. And even more surprising that I slept through the clangings and bangings of his preparations. I'm usually one to wake up with the sounds of morning.

Along with the fanciful Evie decorated card and Andy's sweet delicious breakfast was God's gift to this mama...rest. Much needed rest.

I might also add that much care was taken in advance to make sure that all of the details were in place for this. The previous Thursday evening Andy commented on how he recognized my need for some time alone and encouraged me to disappear for a bit. I longed for a quiet place in nature but ended up at the end of a parking lot in my car. It was lovely. I sat there lost in thought until I found my way home a lovely 20 minutes later. It's quite amazing how even a few minutes of rest can unburden a weary soul. In my time away, he carefully planned and prepared for his Sunday morning surprises. It's not just the gift that cheers a heart, but sometimes more the thoughtful preparation that preceded it.

To my ever thoughtful and patient husband, thank you for making me feel appreciated and special. It is an honor to be your wife. I love you with all my heart.

To the mop topped little cherub who made me a mama, thank you for smothering me with your laughter and love. Your joy is a gift to my days. How I love you.

st paul saturday

Saturday morning. We were awakened by the singings of a cheery girl. Singings that turned to sorrowings when her beloved glow worm escaped through the wooden slats of her bed and landed just beyond reach. "Help!" she cried,"my glow worm!" And so I helped, gathering the glow worm and the girl in my arms and bringing her back with me. We snuggled. She pressed my hair into her eyes and nose, it comforts her. She smothered daddy with kisses.

There we were. Three people well rested from an especially long night of sleep facing a day with no schedule but dreams enough to fill it. And capture it we did, taking on tasks that long awaited attention mixed with a healthy dose of living in the moment, embracing life as it came our way.

A drive to the compost site to load up with fresh soil for our little garden plot. A stop at the bank. A few errands. A flea market. And a long lazy afternoon in St. Paul, our camera snapping shots of our happy little company. A dish of Grand Old Creamery delight then off to dinner with Mom and Aunt Joyce. We shared our stories then watched the sun go down from the patio of D'Amico.

We loved and laughed our day away...

"Evie do it." Yes, our little girl now dresses herself. It's always a good thing when the chosen clothing matches. It's especially sweet to listen to her narrate the process for herself. "The tag goes on the bottom," she murmurs as she sits down on the floor, settling her pants in place before she pokes her toes in.

Look! An eagle! And a funny behind the scenes story of a very contorted daddy trying to keep himself behind the eagle board while hoisting the child up into place. The things we do for a good photo. 

The universal sign for "Emergency"

Camera timers are lovely things.

The St. Paul Cathedral

I will admit it. We are scrappers. We found a treasure on a street corner with a free sign and couldn't help ourselves. We did fit this lovely waterfall style double bed into our tiny Civic. It was an involved process, but where there's a will there is most certainly a way.

Tip a cold one back while you pedal around town. What a novel idea. No, we did not ride the pedal pub. We were eating ice cream as it passed us.

And on we went...

What a gift. Our hearts as light as the breeze that whispered through the tree tops, our skin warmed in the sun's golden rays. Filled with memories of sweet moments to dream about for days to come.

grown-ups

Dark brown eyes. A tousled mess of light brown hair. Quick feet. Full of laughter and dreams. Confidence.

A snapshot of yester-year. A pocket full of memories I still carry with me. That was me.

What happens?

When do we lose the wide eyed innocence, the joy of the moment?

I remember those days; youthful, bright eyed, thinking that the days to come were filled with wonder. That the freedom of being a grown-up must be the things dreams are made of. Playing with friends as much as I wanted, staying up later than 8pm, eating candy. Surely, the joys awaiting were beyond my little mind....

Then I grew up.

There is much joy. The joy of Jesus, the joy of family, the joy of marriage, the joy of children, the joy of love, the joy of beauty. Yes, in Christ there is much joy to be found and we can look ahead with hope to the joy of eternity to come.

I must look up to find my joy, keep my eyes fixed. It is a daily discipline. A moment by moment choice. But, the fruit of choosing well is sweet. For in this world we will have trouble, but we can take heart in knowing the One who holds us fast.

Oh, how life hurts. Broken people. Broken relationships. Loss. Sin. It feels smothering sometimes. How our bodies and our minds and our hearts shrivel up or fall apart. How our close friends become our enemies. Misunderstanding. Watching other people suffer and feeling helpless. Disappointment. Wondering if what people think of you is true even when you know it isn't. Falling into the mire of despair and wondering if it is really worth each breath you struggle to breathe

Yes. It is worth it.

I hear the singings of my sweet 2 year old, riding her bike around the living room. I love to see life through her eyes, the sheer delight of it all. I must admit, I do find a touch of envy in my heart. I wish I could erase all of the troubles and take in the world with wonder. I cherish these days and love how contagious her joy is. How good God is to give us the sweetness of children to help us remember the sweetness of the joys that were once ours. And maybe to remind us that we, as parents, are lovingly caring for them, the children, despite their limited perception of our doings just as He mysteriously works for our good.

Life hurts (badly). Hold fast.

"Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you;
not as the world gives, do I give to you.

Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful."

John 14:27

"God is our refuge and strength,

A very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear...

Cease striving and know that I am God."

Psalms 46:1, 2a, 10a

¹ Bless the LORD, O my soul,
And all that is within me, bless His holy name.
² Bless the LORD, O my soul,
And forget none of His benefits;
³ Who pardons all your iniquities,
Who heals all your diseases;
⁴ Who redeems your life from the pit,
Who crowns you with lovingkindness and compassion;
⁵ Who satisfies your  years with good things,
So that your youth is renewed like the eagle.

⁶ The LORD performs righteous deeds And judgments for all who are oppressed.
⁷ He made known His ways to Moses,
His acts to the sons of Israel.
⁸ The LORD is compassionate and gracious,
Slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness.
⁹ He will not always strive with us,
Nor will He keep His anger forever.
¹⁰ He has not dealt with us according to our sins,
Nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.
¹¹ For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
So great is His lovingkindness toward those who fear Him. ¹² As far as the east is from the west,
So far has He removed our transgressions from us.
¹³ Just as a father has compassion on his children,
So the LORD has compassion on those who fear Him.
¹⁴ For He Himself knows our frame;
He is mindful that we are but dust.

¹⁵ As for man, his days are like grass;
As a flower of the field, so he flourishes.
¹⁶ When the wind has passed over it, it is no more,
And its place acknowledges it no longer.
¹⁷ But the lovingkindness of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those
who fear Him, And His righteousness to children’s children,
¹⁸ To those who keep His covenant
And remember His precepts to do them.

¹⁹ The LORD has established His throne in the heavens,
And His sovereignty rules over  all.
²⁰ Bless the LORD, you His angels,
Mighty in strength, who perform His word,
Obeying the voice of His word!
²¹ Bless the LORD, all you His hosts,
You who serve Him, doing His will.
²² Bless the LORD, all you works of His,
In all places of His dominion;
Bless the LORD, O my soul!

Psalms 103

p.s. this is a general summary of life...not a round-a-bout telling of any personal relationship issues. My marriage is wonderful...so wonderful that I have to pinch myself sometimes to see if it's real. Also, I think it's funny that spell-check does not like the word "lovingkindness." I guess God's lovingkindness truly is better than life (there are simply no words for it). 

easter

We woke up with the sunshine, although not particularly willingly, after an abbreviated night of sleep. There is always much to do before a day of celebration, but sleep is never on that list. Cupcakes to decorate, baskets to fill, heads of hair to trim and every task involved seems to create a mess from which the words "clean up ___" are added to the list of to-do's. Perhaps even those who set up and took down the last supper might have felt the same way. Where there is the joy of community, there is work involved. Joyful work from which good memories are made.

Sleepy brown eyes and tangled hair. Little hands reached in to a basket full of surprises. She opened a few before we ate our breakfast and dressed in our fancies. It was a morning to celebrate, to quiet our busy minds and lift our hearts in worship to our risen Lord. Death was defeated, alleluia!

From a room of praise to a house full of cheerful chatter, we gathered at Dad & Mom Gall's house for an Asian feast. Food, fellowship, an egg hunt and some tennis baseball made for some light hearts and sweet memories.

We packed our party (which, at this point, included a sugared-up, un-napped child) and made the journey north for the annual Ducommun egg hunt. The bucket headed group gathered on the steps and the hunt began. It was a quieter experience without the shrieks and shouts of sugar-Sheri, but fun, nonetheless.When all eggs were accounted for the Bible trivia began. It's good to see what tired, sugared brains can accomplish.

So many fun surprises.

Grandma passed out baskets and puzzles to start out the hunt...

I found one, Grandma!

Nory surveys the land for eggs

Cousins!

A game of Angry Birds with Auntie Kelly & Auntie Anna

Opening the Easter basket with Uncle Brad

Sweeter than Easter candy

In a few years....

Beautiful people wear buckets

Nicole's first egg hunt

I found one!

Hey! I saw that one first!

This grass is too cold!

"Mommy,"she said excitedly," I found twenty eggs!"

Here 'little Tenise' let me hold you

It was a full day. Full of worship and wonderful memories.

behind the plastic

It was a sunny Wednesday in March. We packed up and drove to our vacation destination, our home away from home. The local Super Target.

Cool breezes blew us in through the sliding glass doors. Once inside, we were greeted by the signs of progress. A remodel. Tall sheets of white plastic squared off a large portion of the middle of the store and reached to the ceiling high above. Displays were pushed out of the way, making shopping possible around the perimeter of the hidden operation.

Loud noises, tools at work and the voices of the workmen were the only signs of life from the plastic expanse. We were left to wonder what tools made that sound and what was being changed. For a small person, the unknown was mysterious and perhaps a little frightening. The changing sounds, louder than softer,  metal grinding, pounding, men talking, voices laughing, No matter where we found ourselves in the store, her eyes were fixated on the white expanse. She asked questions about it. Talked about her daddy's tools. Finally, she asked us to take her closer to the plastic. Grandma and Evie set off.

They didn't last long. As they approached their destination her eyes grew as wide as saucers, her chin quivered. She asked for mama. I met them in the main aisle. She grabbed my neck and held on tightly, murmuring softly about the plastic and the noises. When asked if she was scared, she was quick to assure us that she was not. She will never admit to being scared or feeling sick. I'm not sure where she developed a knack for the power of positive thinking, but I hope to learn a thing or two. There is much to be said about choosing our thoughts well.

And we were on our way home again, shopping bags tucked safely in the trunk, Evie decorating her legs with brightly colored egg and flower stickers with thoughts of big, white plastic and big, scary tool noises adhered like a sticker to her memory.

She is still talking about that plastic, which is rather ironic, because I've been thinking about plastic too.

A few weeks ago I was talking with my sister on the phone about the great unknown: life. We talked about the moments when we face circumstances for which we have no answers, no plan, no ideas. The moments when we simply wait and trust that God is moving behind the scenes of what we see. Our hands are tied. Even in (especially in) the waiting, He is working, like the signs of progress in my local Target or a shopping mall, the thick white plastic stops us from stepping into what we are not yet meant to experience. Our moments of darkness and the unknown are not darkness to Him. Behind the plastic, God is moving. He has the master plan and is skillfully yielding the tools that will put together all of the fine details, the ones that make us panic and the many more that we will never even know to thank Him for. God sees the unseen.

One day the plastic will come down. The doors will open. And we will step into the beauty of God's work.

As one who sees words in pictures, I am so grateful to my sister for sharing her word picture with me.  A tangible picture of God's mysterious workings.

"Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying,

yet our inner man is being renewed day by day.

For momentary light affliction is producing for us an

 eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison,

 while we look not at the things which are seen,

but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal,

but the things which are not seen are eternal."

II Corintinans 4:16-18

Thou hast enclosed me behind and before, and laid Thy hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is too high, I cannot attain to it."

Psalms 139:5-6

hannah is 3!

dear hannah:
i wish i could come eat cake with you today and play in the sunshine but nobody will take me to arkansas. i really miss you. happy happy birthday to you and many more.
i love you.
evie