Thursday, June 11, 2009

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!

Friday, June 5, 2009


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.

Monday, June 1, 2009

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!