Dead of Winter and Dead Hearts

A couple of thoughts brewing today.


On my way to work this morning, as I was driving down wretched Route 28 …
 

(mind you getting annoyed at the lady who honked at me from behind when I pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot because I was blocking her way as I waiting for someone to get in their car so I could pull into my spot – only to find she wanted to get by me so she could drive another 6 yards to the drive-through where she would be waiting in line ANYWAY – not to mention my coffee being forgotten about after I ordered it inside – as Kevin James says, we “sweat the small stuff,” don’t we?)


…I noticed that the trees were very bare. The earth appeared gloomy, and grey, as it usually does in January…and February…and March.


The roads, having just been engaged in rainfall absorption, were slightly wet and the grass was dewy. And there was an undertone of fog hovering over city.
 

I have mentioned this before, but the months that follow after New Year’s Day are dreadful. If you’re like me, you wish them away, trying to speed them up as much as possible counting the weeks until spring.


I shouldn’t be too depressed about February because my birthday is in that month, but the older I get the more reason I feel to be depressed about it.
 

I just hate winter – it reminds me of sadness, and darkness, and fear, and cold-stone nothingness. There is literally no life and the atmosphere seems breathless.
                                                                                                                                                

But just as the older I get the more depressed I feel about my birthday, the older I get the more I also realize how beautiful winter is.




-------The unexplainable splendor of the way fallen snow paints a picture on a bare tree holds wonder and delight. I can remember a day a few years ago when Manassas had been more than dusted with flurries and left the most amazing canvas down my street.  



Winter also is the host for mystery. It reminds me of woodsmen hunting, and deer flaunting, and bears nestled in chilled coves – people with knitted hats and warm booties, cuddled up in fire lighted homes reading books.



I find it is the secret hiding place for soberness and reflection, too-------




I still find it cold and bitter amongst all these beauties, as it is the holding place for deadness into new life.


Much like our pre-Christ hearts.


Before knowing Him we are dead. We have no feeling in our limbs, much like the bare, dead trees.


But once we accept His saving grace we “spring” forth into new existence, finding breath and meaning and color. We become alive.


He turns the dead trees into fruit, the grass becomes green again, we see the sun more often, and flowers bloom.


Hallelujah for life everlasting!

Waking up at 0 dark 30 is hard, but this face makes it easier.

And these feet...

And this elmo tooshie...

Live Slower. Be Bolder.

Today I found myself drenched in Christ’s love.

Have you ever had one of those days where you simply feel His presence, His awesomeness, surrounding you wherever you are? I had one of those days today and I wish it would stay with me forever.

My thoughts on what I felt:

These days are rare. Few and far between. And when they happen, I need to do my part to let Him enter in, and soak up every ounce with abundant praise.

Christ is never gone. He is, and always will be, at the reach of our palms.

We have the opportunity to be drenched in His love always, if we let Him drench us. There is glorious blessing right around the corner, overflowing for our taking.

He is sovereign.

Also…

I’ve felt this way for several weeks now, but I also think I hear Him reminding me to live slower. I go so fast through life, literally saying my sentences at warp speed before thinking, or trying to clean up my kitchen so quickly that I knock things over and wake the baby up. Why do I do that?

When I try to get things done, I find myself rushing, almost always. And even in the workplace I rush to explain stories. Or when I’m talking to a client or have five projects that piled on my desk out of nowhere. And I have realized, as of late, that it does no good to try to do those things quickly.

I am watching life pass me by. Moving at a slower pace through life allows me to be more confident in myself.

Speak slower. Walk slower. Respond slower. Listen. Think before answering. Breathe. There is no good that comes from hurrying.

Lastly…

Be bolder [in my walk with Christ]. How is it that some people at work still do not know I am Christian? It is more than likely because I am either not living at work like I do at home, or that I am not bold enough about my faith. Or both.

The older I get the more I realize that I really do want to win others to Christ. I really do want them to see Christ in me. And as hard as it is to pick up my cross, I must do it. I must not be ashamed for others to know that He is the center of me. No matter how many jokes people make.

My heart breaks to know that the Father’s heart breaks when He is mocked, forgotten, and ignored.

Live slower. Be bolder.

Another Weekend Gone...Another Week to Go

I live for the weekends. And this one was pretty good. Isaac was home, which makes taking care of Levi much easier, and we got a chance to enjoy some time together, which is a rarity with his schedule.

Friday, Carrie babysat a little bit while Isaac ran errands and then we all went to Chipotle to grab some dinner.

Levi has been sitting in his bumbo. He has good enough head control now, plus it's good practice for sitting up.

Auntie Keeks.



We watched The Bachelor when we got home on Hulu. It is our little guilty pleasure, bringing indulgent excitement to our boring lives. Lol. No, actually it is fun to watch and the drama is so hilarious.

Could Ben seriously please cut his hair? And Jenna, Courtney, and Blakely...really?

Isaac and I went to Sweetwater's with Gramie and John for lunch on Saturday for a post-Christmas get-together since we didn't get to see them on the actual day. We took a few pics, but needless to say I didn't actually get any of Gramie and Levi. Not sure how that happened. Oh well..

Gramie cut Isaac's head off. Oops.

And I finally got a video of Levi rolling over...

Goodnight moon.

A House of Imperfections

Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.

-John Howard Payne

Our house is a small house with four walls and a front door. It sits in a building with many other houses and among a community with hundreds of other work-goers and family-makers. It is high off the ground, overlooking neighboring lights and a football field from my youth.

It holds the character of our souls, with walls that bring paint colors of warmth and pictures of our past. We play video games here. We wash dishes here. We eat here and play here and drink here. We pray here.

Everything inside me almost every day screams to keep it up to par. To ensure its put-togetherness-its perfection. My pillows, often misaligned on their classy home, kill me with their sagging bit. And each walk-by I do, I make myself pass over them because there is no energy left for realignment.

Tonight, before writing to you, I put Leaves to bed, took a shower, made my bed, did the dishes, packed my lunch, washed my pump, pumped, peeled my eggs for the morning, and refilled two water bins.

Tomorrow, when I wake up, all of it will be drained out of this house again as we live the day over.

Levi will quarrel with me to get his diaper changed and I will quarrel with the bottle warmer to heat his milk. He will use up all the bottles I washed and I will dirty the pump again. And the water bin for the Keurig will be empty by noon.

A house in disarray was my enemy before this. Even when a streak of dirt lay across the counter. But now I am overwhelmed by its glory.

It is clean and sometimes dirty.

Neat and sometimes messy.

Quiet and sometimes loud.

Fruitful and sometimes wasteful.

It is our own nook.

And when I come home at 6 o’clock to find three bottles in various places including under our sheets in bed, it reminds me of a husband who is home to feed Levi when he needs to be fed.

And for all these things and more, I am so grateful.

A Different Kind of Workout

I haven’t worked out in ages. Or what feels like ages. Before I got pregnant, and even into the first month of my pregnancy, I was gung-ho. I ran like it was nothing, taught a group class at work, and lifted weights a few times a week. There was barely a day where I didn’t do SOMETHING to stimulate my muscles and cardio system.

That has changed now. I still work out, but it is a different kind.

Life in the fast lane, with all our comings and goings, has left little time for exercise. Frankly, any time left in the day we do have is filled with couch lounging, coffee drinking, and Facebook. I guess we could potentially make the time to exercise regularly, but it’s almost too hard at this point. Mornings are short and evenings are practically nonexistent with house-straightening and dinner-making.

In addition, our house is small. And it’s not a house, it’s a condo. So if I work out inside, the people below me get a good dose of thunder above. Plus, I fear I will wake Leaves up.

I always get a little unmotivated during winter, too. It’s dark and gloomy out all-the-time. And all people seem be doing is eating, especially around the holidays. Come spring, I plan to be out there on the streets in my Reeboks, with Leaves in the running stroller.

But even though I’m not working out on a planned regimen as before, I’m still “working out.”

Last night I spent approximately 15 minutes doing lunges in Levi’s room, with him in tow. I was trying to get him to fall asleep, rocking him back and forth and up and down, so much so that it was burning my leg muscles. And he liked it, so dare I stop. There’s nothing a mom won’t do, I find, to get a fussy baby to sleep. Including leg lunges with 14 or so pounds of baby weight. Bring it!

That’s not the only time I, or we, work out with him. Having a child, I have learned, brings opportunity for many ways to stay in shape.

We have to pick him up 90 times a day from wherever he is to change his diaper. And then we remove him from the changing table and put him back down to wherever he was. When we get ready to go somewhere, we have to pick him up again, get him ready, and spend a half hour putting him in his car seat. And the car seat doesn’t move itself. Sometimes I wish it did. Nope. We have to carry it. Along with nine other bags (if you’re me) that you left the house or came home with. That junk gets HEAVY!

And then there is picking him up out of his crib, or changing his position, and lifting him up when you are on the couch holding him and he is ready to go to bed. And of course, the older he gets, the harder this will be to do and the heavier he will get, making more work.

And work it is.

It’s fun work, though. I miss the gym so much, but at least I can tell myself I’m doing something, even when I’m really not.