these last sweet bits of break

 The boys are outside, bouncing on the neighbor's trampoline and as I type this I can hear their happy shouts and gleeful shrieks. Their bodies bouncing, free and soaking in the warm early spring sunshine.
It's Easter afternoon and I feel content and my heart is so full, so grateful. I know my Redeemer lives and I am free because he paid the debt for my sin. I know my children can stand free because he has paid their ransom. As I listen to their happy chatter, my heart prays that they will rest assured in his blessed grace and that Christ alone will be the cry of their hearts.

We are home from a lovely week away and savoring these last little bits of spring break, like one savors the last bit of ice cream tucked in the bottom of the cone. We had such a wonderful time in New York; Erica, Bret and Ben were the most gracious and generous hosts. We loved catching up with them, seeing the city and sights, reuniting with dear friends and having an adventure away from home together. Yesterday we got to celebrate Gabe's 8th birthday with our family. It's hard to believe my little nephew boy is already eight! He is as sweet as can be and I'm so thankful to be his aunt.

We are off to celebrate Easter with Patrick's family at a late-afternoon lunch on the farm.
Wishing you a very Happy Easter!

our mornings

Dear Henry,

My sweet 7 1/2-year old boy, no longer a baby but still my little boy, I love our mornings together.

They always start early, my little bird but we are cut from the same cloth, both of us made for mornings. You never wake up on the wrong side of the bed. You're always chipper and talkative as we make our way down the cool wood stairs. You greet Howard in such a happy way and wait patiently as I take him outside.

There's always cocoa and a snack. You always watch a show while you eat your snack. You drink your cocoa while I sip my coffee and we take in the morning, waking nice and slow. Before the rest of the day begins, before we have to rush to get ready and let the rest of the world in, the mornings are ours.

I love your joy for all games; checkers, war, life and sorry. You're latest favorite is tic-tac-toe. You're seven and our days are filled with getting ready, breakfast, spelling word practice, lunches packed for school, walking to and from school and lots of playing with the neighborhood friends. I'm so happy that you've forged new friendships in our home here and am so proud of you for your commitment to learning and listening at school. I so dearly love though that before anything else begins everyday, before we have to let anything else in, the mornings are ours. That it's you and me in the quiet of those early moments. I get to listen as you ask some of your most serious questions or tell me some of your deepest dreams. I know as the years go by there will be more and more places you'll want to be and know I will always treasure these times when it was just us in the quiet of the house and the mornings were ours.

baking together

Dear William,
My dearest little preschool boy, I love our afternoons together and our Fridays too. Spending time with you in the kitchen is one of my most favorite things to do. I love your willingness to help, your desire to create and the way you hop right up on and sit on top of the counter.

 On Thursday you wanted to make cookies, but we were out of brown sugar so you settled for vanilla pudding instead. You're always so sweet and so willing to compromise. That night I picked up some brown sugar and on Friday, we made cookies.

 You love scooping, measuring and pouring. You're really great at cracking eggs. It scares you to hold the hand mixer. You had a look of terror on your face while creaming together the butter and sugars on low and kept saying, "mama mama, stop!". It made us laugh and laugh. You wanted my hand on top of yours to guide it while it mixed and I didn't mind one bit.

You scooped the cookies and heaped them in rows on the pan. You set the timer and  we waited and watched together while they baked. I love the way you scooped and smooshed the dough, molding it with your fingers into just the right shape.

The cookies turned out delicious. I loved their shape -  not perfectly round but big and fluffy; perfect. We both ate some and toasted our glasses of milk to afternoon cookie baking. I love these little adventures with you. I learn from you every day, my sweet boy. I love your sense of adventure and seeing your little servants heart in your desire to help me with everything. I'm such a lucky lady to get to spend these days with you.

I've been using this same old recipe since forever ago when Holly made these cookies for me. It's fool proof and fail proof -- works every time. The cookies are soft and chewy and delicious.

1 cup butter, softened
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup white sugar
1 (3.5 oz) package instant vanilla pudding mix
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips

Directions:
1. preheat oven to 375 degrees
2. in a mixing bowl, cream butter and sugars. Add pudding mix, eggs and vanilla. Combine flour and baking soda; add to creamed mixture and mix well. Fold in chocolate chips.
3. drop by teaspoonfuls onto ungreased baking sheets. Bake for 10-12 minutes or until lightly browned.

warmly present

I remember his words often. Pastor Smart, who married Patrick and I on that hot and humid July day, ten-plus years ago. He said it in sermons, during our pre-marriage counseling and in passing conversations. To be "warmly present" in each other's lives. Our spouses, friends, children's and neighbors. To love well by being present and available and gracious and kind.

I have an obsession with Cuties right now. I down an entire bag in one week flat.

To be warmly present is a practice. Sometimes it's a decision, a choice, to look and truly see what's around you and to put aside that which keeps you separated from it. Trading folding the pile of laundry that sits on the couch for saying yes to a game of checkers. Leaving the sink full of dishes to crank up the music and have an after dinner dance party in the kitchen.

{These cookies --- peanut butter oatmeal chocolate chip -- they are a new family favorite. The mix of the peanut butter and oats and chocolate; the perfect bite. Served warm with milk -- perfection.}

This week we practiced being warmly present. We sidled up with tall stacks of books to read together, lingered in pajamas over second cups of coffee, cleared the pillows off the queen bed to make room for a big game of Sorry, baked cookies and ate them hot from the oven. We said "yes" to staying up later; to making time for one more round of Go-Fish, another chapter of Magic Tree House and five more minutes of AFV.

My big boy at school; his first grade performance of Little Red Riding Hood. He played the part of the big bad wolf. He was pretty convincing and didn't miss a line. So proud of his courage "on stage" and of the sweet kindness I witness him showing to his classmates!

Two of my favorite thrift store finds. From last weekend at Goodwill. It's a hit or miss as shopping goes, and you will probably never walk in thinking "I'm looking for a ____" and find it. But if it's a hit kind of day, you will undoubtedly leave with some treasures you can't possibly leave behind. This cherry red gumball machine is one such find. And I have big plans for this corkboard United States map that may or may not involve pinning places we've been and a gallery wall with favorite pictures of our family from those places.

Naptime; now that they are 5 and 7, it's rare that they sleep. But there are days that a busy week at preschool wears out my little boy and  days that my big boy has a fever that rages and on those days, they succumb to the sleep that their little bodies need. And on those days I always think of the quote, "let them sleep for when they wake they will move mountains". And while they sleep I like to sit at the edge of their beds and wonder about their dreams and which mountains they will wake to move.

This boy and this dog. Peas in a pod. These two are the very best of friends. They are inseparable throughout the day when we're home together. I like peeking around the corner, up the stairs when I hear the blinds rattling and commotion in the hallway to find this. The two of them spellbound by something outside, a truck driving by, a neighbor and his dog walking past. William pointing and telling Howard to go back down, showing him the way.

To be warmly present is not to just look and see your surroundings. Although seeing first is important too. It's like the child who stands with his toes on the edge of the diving board and surveys the pool below. He looks at it, sees it all, the deep end and the shallow and then he jumps. Being present is seeing and then jumping. Being warmly present is jumping in and swimming.

Last night we had a closing ceremony of sorts on the big sledding hill to bid farewell to winter. We rode in pairs, in trains, alone and on our bellies down the long and bumpy hill, some parts ice, others powder and still others grassy and muddy. The mud a reminder that spring is drawing near. The long winter has started its gradual thaw that will lend itself to the longer and warmer days that March will bring. I watched the boys slide down the hill, their hair blowing and the wind carrying their shrieks of joy, and felt so glad to have my feet planted in the part snow, part slush mixture at the top, watching; present.