Beautiful Day

I woke up this morning and started off with a wonderful snuggle with my sweet pea. She cooed, grinned, and kicked her little legs Sweet really. It was lovely. Then, I get in the shower, placing her in her little bouncer. Calvin comes and peeks in the shower with his cute little morning, messy-haired grin. All is well. Great.

Then, as I continue getting ready, Calvin finds it interesting to open and close the bathroom door. A problem arises. I am storing up heat in the bathroom for their baths. I tell him no and make him stay in the bathroom with me. Then the crying begins. Soon the crying becomes screaming, snot-faced meltdown. Fun. Real fun. (Please note the sarcasm here.) Then total loss of control for Calvin. He is out of control. I have to force the bath, give Lydia her bath in the midst of his screaming and get both kids lotioned, diapered and dressed. Wow!

Finally, I held his little heart close to mine and soothed that little mind of his. When he gets this out of control, I feel like I have to carry through the discipline aspect by not allowing what he wants, but I also want to communicate to him that he is loved and not out of relationship with me. After sticking to my guns and completing the bath he finally calmed down. I mean, just so you know, his will is iron clad. After his bath, he plopped his naked little toddler butt on the floor and tried with all his might to put his dirty socks back on as if to say to me, "I will have my way Mommy!" By this time, Lydia had heard enough and joined in the choir of scream. Lovely.

Nonetheless, after our morning adventure, we took a walk on this gorgeous day. I needed a little sunshine after listening to the scream choir. I needed the quiet hum of the morning to remind me of His presence. After getting the kids settled in the stroller and baby carrier, we stepped foot outside. Awesome. The sun was almost blinding. The weather was perfect. Sweet Jesus. We walked, talked and rested in the Lord. Mmmmm. Thank you Jesus for Your glory in the midst of my crazy life. After eating some breakfast at Subway, we walked through Wal-Mart grabbed a few trucks for Calvin and walked home. What a joyful escapade. Calvin and Lydia are such a reminder to me of the delight our Lord must have in us. He does not delight in us because of our works, but just because we are His. He has given me some of that same joy for our little ones. Nevermind the scream choir. My heart will always delight in them.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The story I never wanted to tell

This story is a hard one to tell.  I don't believe that I have to share it, but I also understand that many, many people have questions when a little one dies.  So, I will share it with the hope that your hearts will settle into the One who can lift up your soul.  I know that Haddy's death, whether you knew him or not, leaves a terribly unsettling feeling.  I want your heart to be nestled into the Father for such a time as this. July 4, 2018, my 38th birthday began with a plan.  Our dear friends, the Dickensons, asked us to go to the pool of a friend of theirs.  We love water.  We spend as much time as we can near or in it.  Both of our families had asked a few others to join us.  We got there around 1 p.m.  We played, we swam, we talked, we laughed.  It was incredibly tender and dear.  Our conversations were our normal.  We laugh, tease, play, but in an instant one of us may be talking about something deep and meaningful.  We talk with our children, all of them, from younges
Read more

A Whisper: Your Pain is Not Sovereign

Image
Art by Lydia Hampton The most valuable, sewn in through pain anchor of a whisper from my Lord this past year is this:   Your pain is not sovereign.    I am.   It has been whispered into the unspoken broken, over my broken body, and surrounding my aching, shattered heart.    God Himself measures the calamity that reaches my little world.    Don’t ever be fooled.    He’ll give you far more than you can handle.    Many conclude within the wreckage of anguish that this must mean He cannot be both sovereign and good.    In our utter groaning we feebly look for some way to calculate the incalculable.    We try to make sense of what seems completely insensible.    I couldn’t even attempt to guess the number of times I’ve replayed the treacherous, my brain trying to reconfigure what could have been or what I could have done differently to change the death of my son.    In the mystery of it all, I’ve had nowhere else to turn with even a glimpse of rest but Christ.    I cannot ultimately believe
Read more

Dare to Hope

I've been wrestling.  My son died 6 weeks ago.  Days have already turned into weeks.  Soon, weeks will turn into months, and months will turn into years.  So many people ask me, "How are you?"  I understand that the question is more like saying 'hello' to most.  It is simply a greeting.  It's just that this question forces me to confront my reality.  The answers I have rehearsed for years upon years don't suit me anymore.  My honest answers are too raw, too painful to expose in a simple greeting.  I see the kindness in the eyes of many who ask and I don't assume the worst.  Instead, I worry.  I worry that people may want my 'tour of grief' to end before it will.  I am not even certain that I have entirely accepted that my boy isn't coming home to me.  I mean, all of his clothes are folded and placed in his dresser and they don't appear in the laundry basket covered in spaghetti sauce, dirt, or peanut butter anymore.  Man, he loved peanu
Read more