Anybody else ever feel like this?

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Thy faithfulness...

Thank goodness! Every so often - like last night - I go to bed with a heavy heart, carrying the weight of the world into my slumber, closing my eyes on yet another unproductive day. Unproductive - not only in household tasks, etc., but even more so in what I perceive of my heart’s growth and of my children’s.

For instance, just from yesterday...
- my kids’ "level 8" (on my 1-10 rating) bickering at my neighbor’s house during a brief late-afternoon swim
- one child telling me I was “ruining his summer” upon seeing the library books I’d researched and poured over and spent the morning collecting (talk about a knife to the gut - that one’s still nearly too tender to write here)
- my desk loaded with papers and packages and school work and art work - quite similar to the way it looked last week (how does it accumulate SO QUICKLY?!)
- bad attitudes from my kids (and me) in general, juxtaposed with my desire that our home would emanate a fun, relaxed environment (um, not today...)
- sometime around 9:00 pm, I mentally decided to QUIT complaining to Corbin about our day. He’d endured a full day at work, and because of what I'd communicated to him, had no frame of reference that behind my discouraging tirades with the kids, I’d also laughed and relished moments of getting to be home with them. And then, despite my resignation to not complain again, I found myself just moments later uttering yet another annoyance to Corbin (and he’s thinking, WHO did I marry??)
- as my head hit the pillow around 11:00 pm, my mind stirred with thoughts of all the ways our day could have gone more smoothly. I stared at the ceiling, nursing stabs of personal failure and discouragement.

In the wee hours of the night, as silver streaks of lightening danced in brilliant leaps outside my bedroom windows, these words from 1 Timothy filtered into my soul and smoothed away all (well, most of) that angst and disappointment I felt from what is actually a very normal day around here.

Be diligent in these matters (i.e., parenting, marriage, writing...); give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress. Watch your life and doctrine closely. Persevere in them... (1 Tim 4:15-16)

Just simple words, but they penetrated and replaced my discouragement with a resolution to keep plugging, keep fighting.

If God's Word is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, then these words are certainly alive to me today, a boost of incentive to hang in there. Words that inspire me to keep teaching and hugging and training and wiping and holding and listening.

Thank you, Father, for your unspeakable, tender gift of encouragement through your Word. I needed that!

Running

When Branson started walking at twelve months of age, I felt instinctive confidence he would get it. I didn't follow him around with a soft pillow, waiting to cushion his fall. I just assumed his little bottom was fluffy enough (!) to soften the blow. Corbin and I expected that he would "get it" as he cruised around the round marble coffee table, chubby hands eventually letting go to take a few unassisted, bumbling steps toward the brown leather sofa.
And he got it.
With no visible bruises to speak of, the kid went from crawling to cruising to walking just like most other babies. Focusing a steady gaze toward his desired location, Bran cruised around a table or furniture with tentative hands, careful to keep his one-year-old body erect and balanced. After moments of quiet deliberation he took a couple of faithful steps, hoping those wobbly legs would carry him a few inches to his destination.
Very quickly, Bran's walking graduated into running. For several months as an infant he would sit unassisted, stationary with a pile of books and colorful toys on the sisal rug in our sunroom. Then came several months of crawling, as he inspected every dust bunny and roly poly and piece of debris lurking in the cracks of our wood floors. But that walking stage - it lasted about three minutes. Once he could walk, he learned to run. And with the running came jumping and leaping and scampering and skipping and sprinting.
Branson is now nine and a half, finishing the third grade today. I feel like he's spent the past few years, say from four to nine, learning to walk. Figuring out his path. Looking at what's ahead, taking tentative steps that frame his character and choices and decisions. He's deciding who he wants to be, forming a reputation with family and teachers and friends, determining whether he's a leader or a follower.
And just like the first round, for whatever reason, Corbin and I haven't been following him around with pillows. We've endured the successes and failures of watching his legs strengthen from wobbly, chubby appendages to strong, muscular limbs that propel him forward.
And now, he's running.
At nine, maybe not yet in a sprint, but definitely running.

More than half of his time living in our home has passed.
And I perceive his running will much-too-quickly morph into a sprint.
So what is my role, my job, my privilege as his mommy?
What I want to do is join him.
Not just sit and cheer from the sidelines, but join in and run this race with him. Maybe even sprint a bit when he's ready. I feel a little out of shape, but I don't want to miss it.
For me, one of the keys is keeping a lighter heart. More laughing. Extending freedom to let Branson be Branson, letting him know that Corbin and I are with him in this. We've only got a short distance to the finish line, really.


Lord, help me - with all these precious kiddos - to join in and cherish these short days. Sustain Corbin and me to run alongside Bran, Hud, Joy and Essie well. Give us encouraging, teachable hearts that demonstrate your deep, deep love for them.
And thank you most of all, Father, for this privilege of running.

Finishing out the school year

Well, I'm not sure what it is, but lately - I can't write!
So, maybe posting something simple will break up that writer's block... so here goes.
A few high points from the Wilson home...

We said good-bye to our dear friends, Carlos and Kelly Gonzalez, as their moving van headed south on I-35 for Austin yesterday. (Kelly pictured below far left, expecting little #3, and Carlos at center in white tee) We will miss them dearly. I'm still in denial, expecting to see little Sofia and Lila at ballet each week and Kelly at our monthly girls dinners. We knew Carlos and Kelly from Baylor, but became heart friends as we worked side by side with college students at Christ Chapel. Fort Worth is truly missing a spark today. (Happy birthday, Kel!)


Basden finished up the year with her ballet recital and pre-school graduation... both a little tear-evoking for me. My little girl is growing up.



The boys just completed spring ball. My favorite thing about watching Hudson play is his tenacity - he spent his season as a first-baseman racing around the entire diamond in hopes of catching a ball, or covering someone else catching a ball, long brown hair sticking out from under his ballcap. He loves the game and didn't want to see his season end. The other fun thing about watching Hud play baseball - he wears a huge grin the entire game!


Branson's team got to play at the Youth Field at the Ballpark in Arlington yesteday, and while they didn't win, it was a privilege to compete on that field. Thanks, Krista, for the amazing pics!



And little Essie hanging in there with all the games, field days, swim lessons, etc. What a trooper!


Thanks for checking in... hope to be back sooner than later!

Swine Break '09

I've gotten a few calls and e-mails from my friends from afar asking how we're faring with the swine flu here in Fort Worth. With our school closed for more than a week, we were quite grateful to see that the potential epidemic wasn't as far-reaching as it might have been. While I regret that it affected many families in and around our town, we thoroughly enjoyed the week off. It was a little gift of summer - without the heat!

We headed to the park that first day off with some friends. Incidentally, ABC's World News Tonight cameras showed up and included us in that evening's segment as the moms doing exactly what we weren't supposed to be doing - ignoring the school's effort to keep kids separated. Oops.


The kids and I went to my parents' for a few days, and it was a great way to break up the week. Corbin was out of town with work, so we played in the creek, and the boys built make-believe houses in the attic while the girls dove into Daboo's dress up trunk.



While at Bourland (Mom & Dad's neighborhood), we enjoyed an evening with our friends the Schaefers. Sam & Campbell were generous to bring a cake & make our vacation official:

And while the schools shut down, baseball didn't. Thanks to my friend Teri Queen for these amazing pics!


Finally, a few photos from Mother's day - lunch here at the house before heading out to University Little League - what better way to spend Mother's Day? Acutally, there's not much I enjoy more than sitting in the stands watching my boys!

Look at this ah-mazing mom!! Happy Mother's Day to you, Daboo, you really are amazing and beautiful and easy to be with. Besides that, I don't know how I'd manage our kiddos (& life) without you!

(Not so Little) Licorice Sticks

“Mommy! Now we’re not going to be able to listen to licorice sticks anymore!” Basden eyed the overflowing basket of library books and CDs in our laundry room, ready for today’s return from their three-week hiatus in our home. She lightly tossed the Karen Harper CD from hand to hand, studying the front cover.
“Oh, sure we will, Basden. I copied that song on my laptop, and we can listen to it anytime.”
Engrossed in a spread of baseball cards, Branson piped up from the next room, “Hey Mom, isn’t that illegal?”
Umm...
I mumbled some sort of answer and avoided his question, hoping RBIs and home runs and win/loss records would keep his mind on baseball and off of me.
Of course I knew it was illegal. Kinda. Just one song. I’d thought through it, for oh, about five seconds, before I burned the CD. I didn’t even like the other songs, but that one jingle - Six Licorice Sticks - summoned delight and giggles in my girls.
And after all, it was just a library CD. Kind of scratched up already, and Karen Harper would never know - or probably care.
But Bran’s comment buzzed around my brain like an annoying horsefly, loud and bothersome and too big to ignore.
So returning home from dinner, I promptly opened Itunes.
“Hey Bran, come here.” He peeked around the corner of my desk and plopped down in front of my laptop, mesmerized as always by a computer screen flowing with music files.
“I owe you an apology, B. You were exactly right about it being illegal to download that CD. I knew it was wrong, but convinced myself it didn’t matter.”
We continued on for a minute, Bran shrugging his shoulders, not too concerned with Mommy yet again righting a wrong. But I’m counting on the fact that he heard my words and will remember me pressing that delete button. And that even 36-year-old Mommies who know what integrity is supposed to look like have to be reminded at times that it really does matter - even when we think others aren’t looking.
Interestingly, Branson and I have been memorizing a verse in Matthew this week together.

Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness! Matthew 25:23

A few days ago we wrote this verse on a little notecard and talked through the importance of being honest and responsible in the little areas. Like not taking his Ipod to a birthday party when I’d asked him not to. Or when Dad says sure to getting a couple of Milk Duds, he doesn't mean emptying half the box when we’re not looking. I wanted Bran to understand that if I can trust him in little things like Ipods and Milk Duds, then I can trust him in bigger ways, and it ultimately broadens his freedom.
Ugh.
So the lesson comes full circle, and I get a simple, knee-jerk reminder from my nine-year-old that I, perhaps even more so, am responsible for integrity in the little things.

Lord, thank you for sharp reminders that the way I handle “little” things indeed matter. People see, and more important, You see. And most important to my heart at this point, my nine-year-old sees.

Same Kind of Different as Me

I think I might be the last person in Tarrant County to read this book. Despite my anticipation to read it - for literally years now - for some crazy reason I've just now gotten around to picking it up.
Wow.
I've heard that response from others - family, friends, and even the Barnes and Noble lady - but they couldn't have overestimated the impact. What a powerful story.

The book's tagline sums it up: "A Modern-Day Slave, an International Art Dealer, and the Unlikely Woman Who Bound Them Together."
My favs:
- Comprehending the story through (modern day slave) Denver's dialect. Besides all the meaningful stuff, HILARIOUS story of his solo road trip to the Colorado mountains - UP the Colorado mountains - a homeless man in his 60's, with no travel experience whatsoever and a week-old driver's license.
- Drawing insight from (art dealer) Ron Hall's self-deprecating and honest interpretation of life-changing events and friendships and relationships.
- Laughing out loud - often. And of course, spilling buckets of tears in the process.
- Learning about a woman's character and commitment to serve and embrace a shunned group of our society.
- Reading about that woman's tireless best friend serving with her, and then never leaving her side as they struggled through Deborah's devastating sickness and eventual death. What a deep friendship.
- The quality of writing surprised me - it's really, really good. Lyrical and descriptive and page-turning. The dialogue is so true-to-life and conversational, it's easy to imagine just sitting around a campfire and listening Ron & Denver tell their story in person.
- Really impressed with Lynn Vincent, who collaborated with Ron and Denver in writing Same Kind of Different as Me.

So, my meager thoughts on this locally written best-seller. My only regret is that I wish I would have read it earlier! Thankful they put their story in words. Enjoy!

Baylor Girls Reunion 09

I spent last weekend near Colorado Springs with eight of my favorite people - our 14th annual girls reunion since graduating from Baylor. Oh, how the years go by! Like every other year, we ate, talked, laughed and cried through the few precious days. With glorious 360-degree views from our mountain-top cabin (not that we ever stepped outside to see them), our conversations and laughter ricocheted around the cozy living room nearly as fast and furiously as the snowstorm outside. GREAT food (amazing, Jude & Michelle!), interesting and insightful conversations ("naming it"), and belly-aching laughter (thinking huge cokes, a hot pink bra & the Baylor library). There's something a little magical about catching up with friends who knew you back when, especially amidst flames crackling in the fireplace, a blustery snow storm swirling about our snug cabin, and bountiful platters of crackers and olives and cheeses, not to mention caramel gooeybars.

Birds continuously flitted in and out of the aspen and evergreen trees, representing the regeneration of this burn area which was devastated in the 2002 Hayman fire. Burned trees and all, it's beautiful.

Headed out for a hike

My weekend roomie - somehow Cammi and I found ourselves cackling with laughter several times in the middle of the night - let's just say the fold-out couch didn't quite sustain us...

Kristin & me

Loved our time, friends, and missed you girls who couldn't make it to Colorado this year. Until next year (rumor has it we'll be at Jill's ranch...)

Notice the chic coffee sleeves in the first picture? Kirsten has spent the past year developing Raven & Lily. This non-profit creates partnerships with indigenous artisan groups and offers impoverished women a chance to earn an income for themselves and their families. Kirst just returned from India with an armload of handmade scarves, coffee sleeves, cards, and more.