lately

Last week, I was feeling a bit melancholy. Missing Leland Street; our house and our life there. I found myself longing for the way our life used to be. Conjuring up images in my mind of doorknobs and remembering the way they twisted and the way they felt in my hand, and windows and the breezes that blew through them and carried with them noise. Noises from cars, noises from neighbor children on bikes, noises from lawnmowers, the kind you push, not ride. Details. Little things that don't mean much on their own but piece together to make this incredible patchwork that makes a house a home. I didn't think about them until last week; I tried to make the most of this house and new place and to remind myself that it's the family, not the walls, that make a house a home. Then, against my will, it happened. I was driving to a park in Bloomington with the boys riding happily in the seats behind me, when the memories came flooding back. I felt those knobs twisting in my hand, remembered the happy breezes blowing in through the windows and the tears welled up in my eyes.

Our side-door at Leland Street. I always adored the panels and the little mail door that clanged shut.

I spent the rest of the week in this cycle: missing, longing, disliking, missing, longing, disliking, missing...
But our God has a way of reminding us of His faithfulness to us and of the things that really matter in this short, blink-of-an-eye, kind of life we live. I wanted to be back at Leland, home, where I felt comfortable and safe. But that easy-cheesy living isn't always the way we grow and change and yada-yada-ya. Being here on Rosewood and feeling uncomfortable is a chance for me to feel safe and secure in God's love and trust him for my comfort and not all of those silly things like doorknobs and window noises.

So this week, we've been opening our new doors to find all kinds of stuff around here.
Taste and see that the Lord is good. 
Oh, the joys of those who take refuge in him!
Psalm 34:8 

Like a frog in the watering can by the back door. And the early morning bearer of the frog who comes early on mornings and gives my pajama-clad boys rides on his big tractor.

And these flowers that are sitting pretty, waiting patiently to be planted in some patch of earth. Or the rain boots that steal my heart when William pulls them on and they cover his legs up to his knees.

And this crazy Robin. He lived on that little line just outside our office window for a week. And for a week he flew into the window and pecked the screen. It wasn't just some little flying and pecking. It was big crashing thuds. The first morning I woke to the sound I was certain I'd find a large animal standing in the office. And at first I felt so sorry for him. Poor bird, I thought, he thinks his reflection is another bird. While Patrick threatened, I defended him, the poor, crazy feathered friend. By the end of the week even I was threatening to march outside and tear him down off that line.

And this.
My sweet Henry, he started t-ball. He's on a team in Farmer City, the McKinley Water team. That's their name. Not the redbirds, or jayhawks, or something else sort of familiar and friendly for children. But no matter, he loves his team. He's number 6, which incidentally is his favorite age, the age he aspires to be. The age at which point he imagines himself wielding all grown-up responsibilities including shooting a bb gun and driving a tractor. He plays at Weedman Park on the same t-ball field that Patrick and his brothers played on as little boys. I'd be lying if I told you I didn't find that completely charming.

It's summer and as such, we've been trying to drink it all in. To suck every last bit of sunshine out of the days and make the most of the weekends when Patrick is home. We rented a boat on Memorial Day weekend at the lake nearest us. The boat marina is only 15 minutes from our house and the lake is simply beautiful.

The boys went tubing for the first time. They loved it. They loved being on the boat, helping steer and honking the horn a bazillion times. They loved swimming in the lake and jumping off the boat into the water. And I love Patrick in this life jacket. It gives him some serious muscles.

Our swing set is done. Complete with climbing wall, twisty slide, picnic table and a look-out telescope. I'm pretty sure that I'm just about as excited about it as the boys are. I love climbing up in the little fort part with the boys and pretending to be pirates and giving big pushes on swings and reminding them to hang on tight for the fifteenth underdog in a row. I love staying outside until the light grows dim and alternating swinging with breaks for catching lightning bugs in a glass jar. There are so many of them out here they light up the night sky and lawn and make the corn all twinkly and glowy at night. It's magical. And when we're out there at night I just feel that summer excitement swelling deep in my soul, that feeling that brings me back to my childhood when I'd stay out late sucking every last drop of sunshine from the day. And that feeling of anticipation when I'd wake up the next morning. Excited for what the new day would hold.

A garden is a beautiful thing.


The first time Patrick pulled a carrot from the ground and brought it home to me I literally felt astonished. I know that vegetables grow from the earth, but a lifetime of buying produce at wal-mart has started to dull my mind into thinking that maybe stuff does just come from the grocery store. It's amazing and beautiful to me to see all of these things, real foods, growing from the earth. Things that started as just seeds. Can you tell this is my first ever garden? I've seen yours, but this is a whole new experience for me. The carrots I cannot rinse with the hose fast enough for William to eat. He has taken more than one bite of carrot intermingled with dirt and mud.

And my sweet oldest? The child who is afraid of things green and leafy? This sweet child will pick and pull peas off the vine and eat them whole, standing with his feet planted in the dirt and his hands buried in the vines, he cannot get enough. And they are delicious. I love that Henry, too, feels the same sense of wonder about things growing from our earth.




Dinners have been looking a lot like this most nights. Burgers off the grill topped with lettuce and onions from the garden with a side of sugar snap peas from the garden too and some fries. All eaten outside in between swings and pushes at the little picnic table tucked inside the playset.

God really is so good. There is so much to taste and see.