Seriously

It's seriously hard work being this wonderful.

But Ari would like you to know that he is up for the challenge....

right after his nap.

Sneak Peek

Missing

Okay, so, back in the day, when we only had one (surprise) baby, we used to actually sit around and talk about how many kids we might have. Granted, the conversations were never very long--I think we always had a sense that we would be more than just three. The "family planning" conversations always ended up at the same inevitable conclusion: Let's Wait And See. I remember countless times sitting around the dinner table with Baby Cole in his highchair, telling Justin: "I know it's so busy, but I feel like someone is missing..."

Same thing when Reese came along. We were over-the-moon blessed to have two healthy boys! ...but when I would set the plates on the table at night I often found myself grabbing too many out of the cupboard. We would sit around the table and dine, and though it should have maybe felt complete (I come from a family of four), I still felt a sense of loss for one that was missing. And by then Justin was feeling it too.

So over the years, this has been a common thread for us. With each crazy, loud addition, we still look at each other over our soup bowls and nod that yes, one is missing. But it has become more than that to me--more than trying to control what the size of this family might eventually be. It has evolved instead into a willingness to be open to what God is asking me to do within these four walls. Maybe (certainly) that will mean a baby for us this year. Maybe it will mean opening up a room (or a basement) to a family member or friend that needs a place to stay for awhile. Maybe it means foster care at some point in our lives. I'm not sure--but I do know that He is asking me to let go of my desire to define what "family" means and what its limitations are. He can do so much more than I can even imagine. I have stopped wanting to place roadblocks in the way of the plans He has for me.

I am trying to teach my boys that love is to be shared, and that children are a blessing. I tell them daily that they are gifts that God has given me. It's so important to me that they know that. So I get a little weepy when we sit down at Costco to eat our hot dogs for lunch, and see two children sitting a few tables away (whose mother is surely getting their napkins and straws), and hear Cole say, "Do you think those kids would like to come live with us?" Because in that moment, I think, he gets it. He knows that family boundaries are meant to be fluid, that beds can be pushed against walls to make room for another, that another chair can always be pulled up to the table. That another handful of beans can be added to the pot.

And this week, even though I have been very, very careful to never talk about feeling a "hole" in our family in front of my children, Cole sat down to the dinner table on two separate occasions, and immediately said: "Doesn't it feel like someone is missing?"

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Meet the newest member of our family! I think he looks like Sean, but maybe that's because Sean still looks so much like a baby. Oh, and I use the term "he" loosely; no, we didn't find out; you'll have to wait just a little bit longer! Baby will be making an appearance the beginning of September. Ish.

Goodbye October

Hello November!

A Few Fun Things

daddy brought home a snake...



reuben brought home a snail

and a mothwaaayyyy too much excitement on the first day of school

(c'mon, reese, SMILE)
morning walks to the park

swinging in the sun
this week: first time pulling up to standing!

You Asked For It...

You got it.

New family photos coming soon! Stay tuned!

Looking For Love?

Meet Sean.

SWM, age 8 months.

Nicknames: Sean ("Seen"), Sean-Boy.

Likes: Morning walks to the honey farm or park, laughing at The Brothers, getting wedged under tables and chairs, slapping five with the friend in the mirror.

(Organic) Cheerios on the couch.

Playing dress-up.

Dislikes: Sleeping through the night.

Oh, and boring movies.

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Author's note: Sorry, ladies, he's only got eyes for his momma!

And Then There Were Four

The raccoons took one of our chickens last night.



We spent the holiday weekend with Colleen and Ron, and were stumped when it came to deciding what to do with the chickens. We've never left them overnight before. They roost every night in their little henhouse, and Justin goes out sometime after dark and locks their door so that no predators get in, and he lets them out first thing in the morning. So---what to do, if we're not here? We weren't sure. We decided to leave extra food and water and hope that they stayed safe during our absence.



Off we went to enjoy the 4th of July and our extended family. Ron and Colleen took us to the parade, fed us extravagantly and loved on us for two whole days. We arrived back home yesterday afternoon and were relieved to see all five ladies milling about the yard, happy as can be. Wow, thought we, they did just fine. Guess they don't need to be locked up after all....



And then came this morning. We lay in bed and talked about how nice it was to not have to race outside first thing and let them out. We gloated about how happy they must be to not have to wait on us but to be able to wander outside any old time after the sun was up to go on the hunt for bugs. We felt so proud to have such strong hens that could defend themselves against the roaming neighborhood cats and coons.



Justin was in the shower when I realized I needed something from the car, something I forgot to bring in yesterday. I walked out past the coop barefoot, still in my jammies, and stared dumbly for several minutes at the scattered pile of feathers next to the Volvo. I couldn't figure out how the boys could have gathered so many feathers, and why they would have left them next to the car. I kept trying to remember what we had done yesterday evening and when it was that they played outside (they didn't). By the time I finally glanced over at the coop and saw another pile of feathers, outside the fence, my head was just starting to comprehend what I was seeing. I ran over to the fence, ducking to catch a glimpse under their building, calling them, scanning the yard. Four chickens came to greet me.



Back out to the car, where I finally saw a trail of flurried feathers leading through the parking area and out into--and all around--the front yard. Every six feet or so was another pile of feathers. My heart sank. I ran inside and yelled for Justin, and we went back into the yard.



What a way to wake up, right? And how could we not have heard anything through our open window? The trail led into the bushes, out to the street, and stopped at a neighbor's tree. By then we were finding evidence that our chicken wasn't so much what you might call "alive". We stepped back and shielded our eyes and searched the treetops for any kind of visible den, but those trees are so tall, and raccoons are so good at hiding. We couldn't see a thing.



It's a bit melancholy around our house today. It seems silly to be mourning the loss of an animal that we planned on eventually killing ourselves anyway. But we weren't ready, and it feels, rightly, like a life has been stolen. And there are still lessons in little moments like these. As we came back in and tried to compose what was left of our morning, and distract ourselves with making breakfast, the Lord brought to mind the parable of the shepherd, who will leave his flock of 99 to find just one that is missing. I feel a twinge of understanding, searching for the one that was lost. And I'm thinking: How much more, then, does Christ care for us, and long for our restoration?

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Here are some photos from our weekend.

Doesn't Reubsy look handsome in his momma's glasses?

waiting for the parade:

justin and doug and (a few of) the boys:

lollys with gramma:

reuben, sam and sophie:

sparklers!