A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words - Together

On Lent and Cravings

 

Pressing in and pressing on is pushing against the tide of sin and disbelief, and pushing towards what you've made a habit of clinging to in calmer waters: that Jesus is enough.

Ruth Chou Simons

 

 

***

We are in the final days of Lent.  Four more days of meatless meals.  As I type my mouth is watering for a morsel of steak.  Within the last two weeks commercials featuring beefy sandwiches have prompted us to switch channels.  Recently, whilst ordering an Americano I was visually assaulted by an advertisement for BBQ Beef Brisket on Sourdough, which apparently Starbucks is now offering.  I have ceased scouring the Internet for "fun-family-friendly-vegetarian-recipes-that-satisfy." I have hit my black-bean-as-an-alternative limit.  In fact, we ordered take out twice over the weekend to avoid the final "Delicious Black Bean Burrito" recipe that promises they are "soooo good you'll want to have them every night."  I'm sure they are.  But. We. Just. Can't.  Days ago, I told Jeff that I actually feel the absence of iron in my blood.  Perhaps I should have considered iron supplements.

 

The more I have considered my sudden obsession with meat consumption, the more significant the act of giving something up has meant to me.  Previously I have given up, among other things, bread (a sixth love language), potatoes (a comfort), television (a favorite pastime), and secular music (a source of entertainment).  While I have missed each of those things throughout the forty days, I do not recall feeling the absence of them so distinctly.  These cravings have illuminated what it means for me to long for something.  While being confronted with my ever increasing desire to consume a triple cheeseburger, which in all honestly seems embarrassingly trivial, an even greater realization has taken shape in my heart and mind.  So often, what it is I'm longing for is temporal. 

The season of Lent is about anticipation, remembrance, slowing one's pace, engaging, embracing the ache, awaiting the promise of all things renewed.  We give up in order that we might be filled - filled with His Spirit that stirs our souls, filled with His love that satisfies the deepest longings of our hearts, filled with the knowledge that He is making all things new, filled with hope for that which is unseen and yet to come. 

This past Sunday, as the lyrics for "Hosanna" were projected and I sang the following I was overcome with an ache to live out my days with greater clarity and purpose.

Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like you have loved me

Break my heart for what breaks yours
Everything I am for Your kingdom's cause
As I walk from earth into eternity

May my eyes look beyond the many temporal cravings and temptations before me, may my heart break for that which breaks His, may I catch a vision for that which is greater than what my eyes alone can see, and may I savor the flavor of the perfectly grilled burger that awaits me Sunday.




 

Lent 2016

Psalm 51:16-19

The Passion Translation

 

For the source of your pleasure is not in my performance or the sacrifices I might offer you.

The fountain of your pleasure is found in the sacrifice of my shattered heart before you.  You will not despise my tenderness as I humbly bow down at your feet!

Because your favor Zion, do what is good for her.  Be the protecting wall around Jerusalem.

And, when we are fully restored, you will rejoice and take delight in every offering of our lives as we bring our every sacrifice of righteousness before you in love!

 

 

 

This is the first year we are participating in the Lenten season as a family.  After several family discussions, we decided to give up meat for Lent.  We are now half way through the forty days and the family discussions continue.  Why are we choosing to eat vegetarian?  Is it okay to eat meat if it is served for us at someone's home?  Daddy, did you know this is chicken?  What is grace? We have tried countless new recipes, rated them, broken down their ingredients, highlighted favorites and decided that is okay not to love every new dish that is presented at the table. There have been honest emotions, tears shed (over the fact that Chick-fil-A would not be an option for forty days), and vulnerable hearts.  The act of giving up a favorite food (we are raising little carnivores) has resulted in many opportunities to reflect on what has {already} been done on our behalf.  "...but God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:8

 

A few NEW family favorites to savor:

 

http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2015/02/spaghetti-pangrattato-with-fried-eggs/

 

 

http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2014/09/corn-cheddar-and-scallion-strata/

 

 

http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2014/03/broccoli-cheddar-and-wild-rice-casserole/

 

 

http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2013/10/crispy-kale-brussels-sprouts-potato-hash.html

 

 

http://cupofjo.com/2016/02/mediterranean-soup-with-white-beans-kale-and-pasta/



A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words - Valentine's Day Book Picks 2K16

The Final First Birthday

It occurred to me on an ordinary day in January when responding to a question I was frequently asked. 

 

Polite stranger smiling - "How old is he?"

Me, politely smiling - "Eleven months."

 

And, then the realization that in a mere month, our final babe would turn one.  Later that day a quick Google search for the perfect first birthday invitation to inspire the theme and color scheme of our final first birthday party.  The countdown had begun.

 

 

 

Friends and family gathered for our littlest man's special day.  He awoke to a house full of loved ones ready to celebrate this special milestone, marvel over his wobbly steps, observe with great anticipation as he gently poked his miniature white cake with cream cheese frosting seeking guidance and approval before fully appreciating his first bites, and clap as each piece of tissue paper was scrunched and tossed aside revealing special treasures perfect for a boy of one.

 

He has always appreciated the attention of others, his bashful smile and subtle tilt of the head his trademark sign of deep and satisfying pleasure.  With each clap and raise of his arms, I looked on marveling over our boy, our last little Larson.

 

Before cake we gathered, Jeff offering words of gratitude to those who have influenced and supported us throughout the years, but this past one in particular as we welcomed Everett David into the world.  He concluded with one final sentiment, "Thank you for coming to share in our last first birthday party." And, then the tears of a young mother who knew this day would one day come and the realization that it had, in fact, arrived. 

 

I struck a match and we gathered round, voices young and old singing a familiar tune of joyful celebration.  His siblings sang out, eyes bright, awaiting their little brother's first candle to be blown out.  I puffed, and met the gaze of my littlest man.  One. 

 

What is it about a tiny person devouring his first bites of cake? We kept our gaze firmly on the birthday boy as he patted and poked, toying with the idea of licking his fingers.  Watching his older siblings delight in his slow and steady approach to eating was a highlight of the day.  

 

There have been many milestones in his first year of life, some documented, far more that have not. This is the product of life that is full, and his place as number four.  And, while I cannot remember his first food (I think it may have been sweet potatoes) or the date he began consistently sleeping through the night (it happened in month ten), I can recall many precious and tender moments that were shared in year one. The late night feedings that brought he and I to the living room sofa, the way he has always felt perfectly small in my arms, his ability to find my eyes in a room...always, his bashful yet engaging spirit, being held by older siblings on the couch at night when the lights were low and the house seemed perfectly quiet and peaceful, first visitors, placing him next to his older brother in bed before final prayers were said and the look of pure love and delight that would wash over his brother's eyes, first outings with all four littles, the looks and comments of people as we made our way around town, our crew always together, a force to be reckoned with.  So many beautiful moments wrapped up into one year.  

 

I could sing a thousand songs about you still that would not do
There’s a million tiny things that make the things that you do, you
I wouldn’t trade our time together, wouldn’t trade for anything
Cause nothing else here in the world can bring the happiness you bring

 

And I am, over-whelmed, by you
Am, over come with joy
You’ve, taken me higher, and shown me what love can do
Where would I go, or be, without you

 

Overwhelmed by Tim McMorris



Everett's Dedication

 On October 4, 2015, we dedicated our fourth little one unto the Lord.  We gathered in much the same way as we did when our other three children were dedicated.  My childhood pastor and his wife traveled from Salem, WI to lead us in a time of reflection, reminding us of the special passages of scripture that was read at dedications one, two and three.

 

 

I was grateful for the opportunity to welcome Pastor Mark back into our home as he has been present for many significant moments in my life: baptizing me as a young girl, presiding over my marriage ceremony as a young bride, and dedicating my children as a young mother. 

 

 

As parents, we have identified the importance of inviting others into our lives to share in the joys, challenges, milestones and many significant moments of parenting.  The Lord has been gracious to us, gifting us friendships that have spanned years, friends who have become family as we've shared our stories over bottles of milk and wine.

 

That day as Pastor Mark held our son, we were joined by our dear friends, the Staceys and Lockes, who lovingly accepted our request to be Everett's godparents.  We are grateful for the many moments we have shared as families and anticipate all that we will experience in the future as we raise our kids together. 

 



 

We were also able to celebrate and share the experience of dedicating Everett with our church family on November 29th.  Our friend and pastor, Casey, held each little one and offered up a prayer of dedication.  With tears in my eyes, I listened on as Everett cooed into the microphone, offering up his own praise offerings.

 

 

"To taste the sweetness of ordinary joys, we learn to enter each day with a conviction about the givenness of all things...We've been given a place to be, some things to do, a need for sustenance, and a people to share this with.  God originates these gifts.  God is present with his gifts...At some point, we all have to come to terms with the spiritual truth that true joy is found in God and God is found right where His gifts are."

 - Zack Eswine

 



Three

 

Hello {three}.



 

The littlest lady didn't ask for much when it came to her third birthday.  When prompted she would quickly shout out, "PURPLE CAKE."  So, with purple crepe paper hung, purple paper plates and napkins placed, and her purple layered cake prominently displayed we celebrated {three} with a small gathering of family.  She was bestowed all of her favorite things: tiny pouches of miniature lip glosses, clothing, fashion accessories, and musical instruments.  All the many things that make our little girl's bright personality shine even brighter. 

 

With year two and its many moments of good, bad, painful and beautiful behind us, we are settling into a more predictable, but ever so exciting groove that is three.  To know June is to know the multitude of fantastic faces she is able to make within seconds of each other, to be the recipient of booming shrieks, roars, and cries of delight and sorrow, to be patted (gently or roughly) on the back acknowledging your presence and close proximity, to be mesmerized by her dazzling personality and ability to captivate a room, to watch her long, blond curls bounce as she moves and tiptoes about, to behold her delicate and rhythmic dance moves, to witness her fearlessness as she scolds and bosses older children unaware of her own age and place, to hold her fair and delicate hand as she comes close to cuddle, to lock eyes with her bright blues as she animatedly tells a story or recounts her day, to listen to her prayers always ending with the hope that Jesus "will have a lovely day," to observe her independence as she dresses, undresses, selects and re-selects various outfits throughout the day, to be impressed by her determination to prep meals, groom herself, medicate and pry open the bottle of kid's multivitamins independently, always independently. 

 

 She is the epitome of sugar and...cayenne, our little firecracker, bold and bright. 

 

With the arrival of {three} we finally said farewell to her beloved pacifier, a friend to us all.  With the surplus of available helium balloons in our household due to two November birthdays, Jeff, always the clever one, suggested sending her remaining pacifiers up to heaven to Uncle Brad for safe keeping. (There were three in the house.)  She agreed, and bravely sent the first one up on the morning of November 16th.  Fifteen minutes later she was ready to send papi number two up.  Bon voyage and cue the waterworks.  Within seconds, I found our little lady sprinting up the stairway attempting to scale the shelves of her closet to reach pacifier number three resting (or so she thought) on the top shelf.  Unbeknownst to her, number three had already been pitched.  She sobbed.  I wanted to, but refrained.  In all honesty, she grieved the rest of the day offering up heart-stabbing comments such as "I can't do this anymore."

 

It was a tender day as I watched our girl overcome sadness and persevere.  I hope that I will never forget her fighting spirit that day.  I think it was a big day for her and I, a reminder to acknowledge my children's sadness, empathize with them, offer grace, extend love and be quick to rejoice with them when the tears are gone and they find joy once again.