Summer, Deeper Things, and the Marina

Summer turned four today. And I don’t know that any of my children turning any age has ever surprised me more.

These last three babies are just somewhat lumped in my mind into one big episode. This enormous THING; where I . . . had three babies -- one after another -- when I had only planned on having one. It has been such an overwhelming and defining event (well, series of events) that I think part of me has sort of been assuming I would spend forever in this space of three babies.

But four?

Four isn’t even a toddler anymore.

I don’t know how she managed it.

I’ve been in an interesting place lately. The Lord has been showing me things and telling me things that I hadn’t expected. And because, I suppose, I’m a bit hard-hearted, those whisperings from Him have come in a way that has been rather uncomfortable for me. I’ve felt awe and gratitude and sort of shock, really: shock and amazement that He actually CAN speak to me -- that he can bear down with spiritual pressure and open my eyes and enlighten my mind about new things I need to consider and changes I need to make. It’s a beautiful, hopeful thing to feel His hand reaching out to direct and re-direct. But also, . . . I’ve felt stripped down to my very bare bones by it all as I’ve realized how closely revelation is tied to sacrifice. (Of course, I also know, and trust, that it is always tied to even greater blessings.)

It’s occurred to me again and again of late, as I’ve tried to conform my own reasoning to God’s desires for my life, that He isn’t particularly interested in logic or even in ease. But He is interested in shaping us and helping us accomplish whatever things we each came here to do. And, when I think on that, I realize that I don’t particularly care about logic or ease either. I care about becoming and doing. I care about hearing and responding to His direction. That conviction and desire is deep, and, I hope, will always override all else. However . . . the daily process – the shifts in plans, the letting go and accepting new paths – is still difficult. And wanting to do it, doesn’t make the doing easy or erase the questions and whys; and submitting certainly doesn’t suddenly, simply, get you there. One must still hitch up their skirts, put on their work gloves, and any other metaphor you can think of regarding work or climbing mountains, and deal with the practical work, mud, tears, sweat and difficulty of it all.

So, under the surface of all these bright pictures there are certainly deeper things going on. And, to be honest, I’m completely overwhelmed and exhausted. But also grateful. And feeling an intense love for God and a deep hope about the future – for all of us. And, in that sense, the deeper things behind these pictures aren’t just the overwhelming things, but the eternal and most beautiful things of all.

And, with that, a little Sunday evening stop to see the fish that are always swarming the Bear Lake marina:

Catching Up?

Goldie turned 14 earlier this month. As requested, Abe took her (along with Penny and Daisy) to play Pickleball. We made summer-time gingerbread houses. (Graham cracker houses – hot glued together. Candy stuck on with frosting. I don’t know why, but this has become a requested activity at many of the birthdays around here. Haunted houses for Anders’ birthday. Easter or spring-themed houses for Dais and Pen. Traditional Christmas houses for Jesse. We use the word “themed” rather loosely of course. The only thing making Goldie’s gingerbread houses more summery than Christmassy was the addition of Swedish Fish.) Abe and Daisy willingly played Scrabble with her. We ate twice-baked potatoes (her request) for dinner. (As I made them, Abe said – referring to the potato skins, “Wait. Did you just take all the filling out of those and then put it back in?” We’ve eaten them for years. I love that he never noticed they were more than a potato cut in half with some cheese and bacon on top. They are certainly much tastier than that!) A neighbor invited us to swim. We opened presents. (Goldie is fun to give gifts to. Even the smallest trinket is met with such appreciation that you feel certain it is the most wonderful thing she has ever ever been given.) And we ended the night eating her strawberry shortcake.

Quite a lot of adventures have occurred since said birthday. And, while I try not to concern myself with staying caught up or making sure everything that happens around here is included on this blog, it does seem a shame not to include these fun pictures. So, we shall dive back into blogging with:

A parade with Mike’s family on the 4th of July. Goldie was, again, marching in the parade with the officers from her school. It was fun to hear a big crowd of aunts and uncles and cousins cheering and shouting her name – knowing how happy such a throng of supporters would make her feel.

After the parade  we went to Mike’s parents’. My sister-in-law Jaime grabbed her scissors to help me fix the very uneven cut I gave Mette awhile back (and then didn’t dare to fix myself – lest I make it worse). Mike and some of the kids stayed for lunch and to play with cousins while I took Abe (who had to get to a short shift at work) and the two babies (who had to nap) home.

With babies napping and the house quiet, I was hit with the same semi-frantic feeling I always get during precious and rare periods of quiet. They really are just . . . nearly non-existent in my life these days. And when they do come, they are typically of short duration. And there is always SO MUCH I long to do in those small windows of time! I wanted to clean. And pray. And read scriptures. And edit photos. And write in this space -- clearly that didn’t occur . . . as I am writing this nearly two weeks later. And, in fact, I don’t recall just what I did accomplish. And I don’t recall any of the rest of our 4th of July day. Nevertheless . . . the parade was happy. And these pictures were cute. The end.