the best toys

Why do I bother buying toys for my children?

Honestly, baby b. is happiest with an empty box, my pots and pans and this old suitcase I pulled out of the closet a month or so ago. I planned to get rid of the suitcase, but the boys immediately adopted it as one of the coolest toys in the world.

So there you go.

Add a couple of couches to make forts with and they’re good to go.

unmothers

I woke up at four o’clock this morning to get Twin A. a cough drop and had a hard time going back to sleep.

I prayed for Leslie, who would covet all of your prayers, today and in the days to come.

And it’s Mother’s day. I thought about that too. For many, this is not an easy holiday. I thought of those women in the night too. Grieving mothers. Women who long to be mothers but aren’t, for one reason or another. Mothers who have lost children. Children who have lost mothers.

These unmothers are on my heart this morning. I was one of them for so long, I’m not sure I’ll ever completely shed that feeling of not belonging on a day like today. As I go to church with my three sweet boys, I’ll be on the lookout for someone to encourage. Someone who is longing to have a conversation that has nothing to do with motherhood or babies or their own mother.

And this afternoon? I’ll take a long nap. I’ll enjoy a nice dinner with our extended family, and then I’ll sneak out for a movie with a friend. That really is my favorite way to spend mother’s day…or any day, for that matter.

Enjoy your day too, if you’re a Mom. And if you’re one of the unmothers who’s reading this? Know that you’re not forgotten today.

trying to be fancy

A few years ago, missionary friends were coming to visit, and I really wanted to make something special for dinner. My husband suggested grilling steaks or ordering pizza, but no, I wanted to make something fancy.

At the time, my twins were toddlers, and I didn’t have time for fancy.

Never mind that, I went to the market and picked up some beautiful halibut steaks, salad, and a loaf of fresh bread. Pulling out a recipe for peppered halibut, I rushed through the recipe, opened a bottle of wine, and warmed the bread.

We gathered around the table to enjoy our meal, and our friends dug in enthusiastically. And then Maria’s face turned bright red and she reached for her water.

Oh no.

I took a bite of fish and the pepper was beyond overpowering. I may as well have served a plate of black pepper to eat with a spoon. It was really that bad.

I immediately apologized and suggested we eat something else, but our missionary friends soldiered on. “Oh no,” Maria said politely, “it’s good!”

But she couldn’t breathe.

I learned an important lesson that day: there is a time for fancy and a time to order a pizza or make sloppy joes. A simple meal prepared well is much more enjoyable than a fancy meal you don’t have time to make. I also learned that the little box of black pepper in my cupboard is not a substitute for freshly ground pepper. Not even close.

For more tips on what doesn’t work, head over to Shannon’s for this week’s special edition of What Doesn’t Work for me Wednesday.

God hears

“Mom?” Twin A. whispers into the dark room.

“Yes?” I ask.

“I’m so, so scared.”

Taking him in my arms, I pray, “God. A’s feeling scared tonight. Would you help him to remember all the ways you love him and all the ways we love him so he could feel less afraid? Thanks, God. Amen.”

“Why do you always do that?” Twin A. asks.

“Do what?”

“Pray. It never works. I’m still scared.”

“It feels that way sometimes, doesn’t it? But God hears our prayers, A.”

“Then why doesn’t he DO something?”

Good question. And when I’m the one who’s scared in a dark room, I’m rarely satisfied with easy answers. But I do know that God hears us when we pray. No matter what the situation, we are not without hope.

“We put our hope in the Lord. He is our help and our shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. Let your unfailing love surround us, Lord, for our hope is in you alone." (Psalm 33:20-22)

Would you join me in praying for Leslie tonight? She’s back in the hospital. Pray that she and Tyson and their young son would be surrounded by the Lord’s unfailing love tonight.

about the writing

I’ve been in a bit of a writing pickle lately. A series of stories and articles accepted last fall began to hit the shelves, which led to a sort of crisis of confidence. (I know, publication is supposed to have the opposite effect, but stay with me here.)

Suddenly, I started reading more and more about publishing and being a Real Writer, and, honestly, it freaked me out.

I’ve been writing creatively for as long as I can remember. Stories bubble up and I feel compelled to write them down. This is just a part of who I am and how I process information.

For the last few months, I’ve been paralyzed to write much of anything. All of my stories felt small and insignificant, or worse, big and scary to say out loud. I’ve laid awake at night worrying about how I might be perceived by my readers and my friends and people in my church when I consider telling certain stories. I fear being labeled or judged, or perhaps worse of all, deemed insignificant.

I worry that my writing is bad and my stories are worse. I worry that there is no market for what I have to say. I worry about being judged for what I have to say.

This is the baggage I carried into the Calvin festival. I joked with a friend that I was hoping to find my purpose in life while I was there. That’s not asking too much, is it?

And while I can’t say that I found my life’s purpose, I did find my way back to my passion: creative writing. I’m back to just letting the stories bubble up and writing them down. Whether anyone ever reads this slog is yet to be decided, but the truth is, it doesn’t matter.

A lecture by Elizabeth Berg, one of my favorite authors, soothed me like a long soak in a hot tub. "There's no right or wrong way to write," she told us. Her own writing process sounds so much like my own--early in the morning still in pajamas--and it doesn't hurt that she got her first big writing break from Parents magazine. Her lecture comforted me like a warm hug from an old friend. It's going to be okay, she said through her words that didn't really say that at all. Just keep writing.

I’ve stopped reading the writer blogs full of sage wisdom and marketing advice. Instead, I’m reading books that fill me up. Beautifully written books not about writing, but about living with hope in this broken world.

My creative energy is back. I’m listening to that deep place in my soul that does have something to say. And for now, just writing it all down is enough.

because sometimes it's better not to know...

There's a group of neighborhood kids playing in my backyard, mostly Kindergardeners, but a few first graders too.

I'm in the kitchen getting dinner ready with one eye out the window, and what do I hear?

"It's my turn to be the dog poop!" Twin B. shouts.
"No, you're the plunger this time," the neighbor girl corrects him.

I do not want to know what game they're playing out there.

link love

Last week, Erika Haub tagged me with an “excellent or subversive” blogging award. I’m not sure which category she puts my blog in, but either way, I want to pass on the link love! (Incidentally, Erika’s blog, The Margins is one of my favorites. It’s one of the few blogs I read every single day. Well, unless the kids are barfing or something, in which case the only thing I read is the Children’s Tylenol label!)

Here are a few of my favorite excellent or subversive blogs. (I’ll leave it up to you to guess which is which!)

A Place at the Table
Patsy Clairmont
Chased by Children
Raising Cain
Eugene Cho
The Preacher’s Wife

If you’ve been tagged and would like to participate by handing out your own excellent or subversive blog awards, feel free to make up your own rules!