By Your Agony and Bloody Sweat

I originally wrote this post on Good Friday two years ago (for reference, Pearly Girl was a few months old, Superman was almost two, and Little Professor was three and a half). Here it is for you on this Good Friday.

On this Good Friday, the title above is both fitting and--I'll admit it--a deliberate attention-getter (that's Comp 101 on "Attracting an Audience" right there). I don't actually like to think about what Christ went through on this day. I don't even like to use the proper language to describe it. Thanks to the Litany (again!) for the right words when my sinful flesh cringes at the truth.

Today the kids and I went up to church at noon for an informal prayer service. I told Papa I could walk there, no problem--he needed to take a few boxes of books earlier so he drove the not-quite-two blocks with our one vehicle. But after strapping on Pearly Girl (roughly fourteen pounds) into the sling and pulling the boys (roughly sixty pounds) into a twenty-mile-per-hour wind for about one hundred yards, I realized I was tackling more than I thought. By the time I got to church, my back and arms were aching-sore and I was totally out of breath. But no big deal, I told myself. Jesus hung on the cross for three hours and endured hours of torment and torture before that, so a little sweat pulling my kids isn't anything to complain about.

We went into the dark church where Papa had covered the cross with a black veil and lit a few candles. A few women from church were there, and we sat in front of them in the first pew. The sanctuary was very dark and quiet. But not for long. Pearly Girl wanted out of the carrier. Badly. My muck sweat from the walk doubled as I wrestled the now-squirming, flailing, wailing girly out of the Baby Bjorn. Then Superman got ants in his pants and would not hold still. After trying unsuccessfully to rock our Pearl and shush Superman, Papa stopped his prayers so I could hand Superman over to him. Then I took PG and left the sanctuary, mere minutes after we first had walked in.

I sat down on the pew in the narthex with the door to the sanctuary closed and began to feed PG. And I couldn't help it; the tears started pooling in my eyes and running down my cheeks. Why, I thought, why can't I just go into church and be able to sit quietly and hear your Word without interruption? All I wanted was to hear and remember your Passion. 

I could hear the quiet murmurs of Papa and the women praying the Litany. The soft, muffled cadence of their voices calmed me down, and I gradually just sat still and tried to remember the parts where I thought they were. After a few minutes, they came out of the church and stood by me for a few minutes. The boys, now quiet, went with Papa to the van.


"How is she?" one of the women asked gently, gesturing to PG.

"She's almost asleep now," I said. "I'm sorry about all the noise."

Before I could say anything else, all three of them shook their heads and started talking at once.

"They're no trouble--"

"No, don't you worry--"

But one of them spoke most firmly.

"Don't ever apologize for your children. They are a gift to us, and we are so, so happy to see them here. Always remember what a joy they, and you, are to us."

I was touched by her words and the obvious agreement all of them had for this woman's sentiments. In fact, I was overwhelmed. What I saw as burden and interruption, they saw as gift, total gift. What I saw as irritation and distraction, they saw as reminders of the abundance of God's grace.

That afternoon, I got an email from the same woman with the comment. She wrote:

Thank you both so much for taking the time today to worship with us.  It was a special service and I appreciate the focus during this time, especially as the work day passes, it’s wonderful to break away and focus on what matters in this life – salvation through Jesus Christ our Lord and the new life He brings!!

 I also want you both to understand, please never feel the need to say “I’m sorry” for those 3 blessings that you have in your children.  You cannot imagine the feeling of joy that I had when I heard Paul’s voice join in on the Lord’s Prayer.  Hands down, highlight of my day.  It’s always wonderful to have them there.  Both Nancy and I were so thrilled to see the wagon outside of the church when we arrived, and we were so thrilled to spend that time with your family – our church family!!  It speaks to the kind people that you are that you apologize, but I want you to know that you don’t have to.  There is absolutely no apology necessary, ever.  Children are to be in church, and we are SO GLAD that they can be at Our Saviours!!

Love, because of Him,

Linda

The subject of her email was "This was truly a Good Friday."

So often I forget what's important in this life. Yet in the midst of sweat (literally) and tears (literally, all around, everybody join in!), Christ comes. My agony might seem terrible, but it's nothing compared to what He bore for me. He came to bleed and sweat and cry and die on the cross for us so that we won't always. I thought I'd missed His Passion. But He brought it to me anyway, just in a way I hadn't expected. And His word, that does for me what I can't do for myself, keeps me always. For this I am eternally grateful, just as I am so incredibly grateful for the love He gives through women at our church who remind me of Him so steadfastly.

Happy Good Friday.

Sometimes a girl's gotta sleep

Using whatever methods necessary.

Queen of the Bowl

Pearly girl is moving toward independence by leaps and bounds. By independence I don't mean driving motorized vehicles, paying her own rent, and generally assuming the responsibilities of adults--though I suppose her progress is a start. 

I We officially began the great procession known as the weaning of diapers on Saturday, January 4. With the boys, our system--if you can even call it that--was less official and more gradual (diapers to pull-ups or the much-preferable training pants, with rubber pants, then without, and finally moving into actual dandified underwear as the ultimate prize. Or exhausted finish. Whatever.). People had always told me that girls were easier to potty-train than boys. I thought Little Professor and Superman were pretty easy, if messy. Superman moved into underwear on his second birthday, so I figured an older brother role-model really helped him.

Well. Pearly Girl has put them both to shame. Granted, she's one and a half months past her second birthday, but I can't remember the last time I put a diaper on her. Last week? Anyway, after one day of full court press of the training pants, she was telling us when she had to go. A few accidents later, she's into the girlie underwear I figured was at least a month away. I am relieved the way runners are when they get to the last lap. And we got here much faster than I anticipated.

I know more accidents will happen, because they just do. But in the meantime, I am crowning Pearly Girl Queen of the Bowl and loving washing the prettiest little undergarments that mark her transition to Big(ger) Kid. 

So much cuter than cars and Ninja Turtles pants! Say it with me: ooooh!

Terrific Two

Our Pearly Girl turned two recently. We can hardly believe she's grown into such a big girl already! Here she is almost a year ago (notice the short locks):

...and here she was this summer. She loves her girly stuff, like having her now LONG hair brushed and accessorizing with shoes and scarves, but she LOVES being outside and getting active (and usually dirty. Even eating dirt)! 

In our first substantial snowfall this fall, she and I ventured out into the white stuff. Even when her hands were freezing (and most of the rest of her was, too), every time I asked if she wanted to go in, she'd say, "No!"

A few weeks before her birthday, I finally took her in for a trim. I've learned to have no expectations when the kids go to the dentist or the hair stylist, and Pearly Girl surprised me even so. She sat very still and wasn't bothered in the least by the scissors close to her head (Sam, who cut her hair, was very nice and gentle, so that probably had a lot to do with it. Thanks, Sam!). Her trim looks great, too!

Her birthday fell the day before our annual open house, so she spent most of the day helping me bake. She's a big helper in that department! We enjoyed a nice chicken dinner later and a Ree Drummond chocolate cake just for her, too, along with some snazzy gifts.

Just a little help from Mommy with the candles
(and her brothers, who were blowing from across the table).

With three little boys in the house, we really cherish our little girl! We look forward to watching her grow even more in the days and months and years ahead. 

Thankful for His times given

Today, I give thanks for many things.

Mostly, I give thanks for my family--my messy, loud, amazing, ever-changing family. 

God knows the worth of what He gives far more than I ever could. 

So, take and use Thy work, 

Amend what flaws may lurk, 

What strain o' the stuff, what warpings past the aim! 

My times be in Thy hand! 

Perfect the cup as planned! 

Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same!

~From "Rabbi Ben Ezra" by Robert Browning

Who dun it?!

We have a mystery at the Olson homestead. In the midst of making brownies, Papa discovered that someone filched the mixing spoon. Do you have any idea who it might be? We're thoroughly and seriously investigating this chocolate confiscation. And if you've got any leads, we'll save a delicious dessert for you!

By the way, has anyone seen our little Pearly Girl?

Our Pigtailed Whistler

So our sweet little C just keeps on growing and learning new things. A few weeks ago, she started whistling. I think she literally woke herself up with a little pucker and a little air through her lips, and since then she's just been whistlin' Dixie constantly. She whistles when she's happy; she whistles when she's excited; she whistles when we whistle to her; she whistles when she wants attention at the dinner table; she whistles as Papa holds her in his arms in Sunday morning Bible class and charms everyone there. (This has happened twice already. I think I know why she's suddenly gotten separation anxiety when I leave to go teach Sunday School; she wants an audience. Unless Gary H. is there to bribe her with animal crackers. But I digress.). She's already cute as a button; now she's cuter than a root-toot-tootlin' whippersnapper sparrow on a sunny summer morning! And no, I'm not exactly sure what that means, except to say that C's whistling is adorable and only adds to her charm.

Well, I thought the cuteness had maxed out. That's until just the other day, when the boys convinced me that C's hair was long enough to put into pigtails. It doesn't look like much, but it looks so girly! And while I find the word "pigtail" slightly repulsive, the actual bunches of baby hair are cheek-pinch-worthy-cute. Now we've got a pigtailed whistler!

AND she smiles at the camera!

Pucker up and sing along!

(Nearly) One-Year-Old Sweetie

Well, our Baby Girl is fast approaching her big one-year mark, so I thought I'd compile some fairly recent pictures of her before that milestone is long gone.

C starting taking steps by herself on Saturday, November 3. She'd been standing by herself (randomly standing up in the middle of the room with no assistance) and creeping (holding on to furniture and walking) everywhere, so we knew she could do it. Papa and I were sitting downstairs while the kids played, and she crawled over to the coffee table. Except she didn't make it. Instead, she stopped, stood up, and took two steps to reach it. We think she forgot that she wasn't crawling. In the last week, she's gone from three or four steps at a time to ten or twelve. So now it's onward-ho to staggering, running, and general speediness for little C! Happy early birthday, Sweetheart.

 

 

And to think: just yesterday (it seems), she was only this big!

Micellaneous Milestones

Since my last post, we've had some busy times! Here's a brief update.

Papa attended a Doxology seminar in Nebraska, where he learned about the devil and his wily ways from Dr. John Kleinig. He, and several pastors from our circuit, greatly enjoyed their time together (scrumptious food enhanced their experience, I've heard) learning about how to beat down the Evil One. The boys are into superheroes and "getting bad guys," so I'm still stewing about how to make a connection for them with this.

We celebrated my birthday with my lovely mother here (who also enormously helped out with the kids while Papa was away)! Turning 31 feels great, in a very achieving gravitas kind of way (especially when you leave sentences like this dangling for a week on your blog. I am FULL OF GRAVITAS. :)) And thanks for the "Happy '29th' Birthday" card from my brother, who's unofficially moved me into the "older person" stage. :) The boys spontaneously sang me "Happy Birthday," which brought me to tears. Little C shrieked and grinned, which brought me joy. Papa bought me a beautiful card and some pretty earrings--and the boys helped with both! I'm very thankful for all the wishes and cards and gifts; truly, my cup overfloweth.

Papa presented on "Family Matters" at an LWML Fall Rally at our church, which I was able to attend (thanks, Mom!). It was great visiting with many women, singing for the group, and even participating in a skit without knowing what I'd have to say or do ahead of time. Let me just say that Mrs. L.E. is hilarious and utterly trustworthy! Papa's presentation was fantastic, too--as he's prepared for this, he's helped me prioritize our children's spiritual care (more on this in another post). That's always a "win, win, win," as I teasingly tell the kids.

P's reading. I mean really reading. While he phonetically sounds out words sometimes, many times he just looks at them now and just says 'em. No help. Just the other day, he brought me a baseball thing and said, "Does this say, 'Get in the game'?" Yep. You read that right, buddy. So his "Letter Lessons" have been really fun! We just started Section Eight of The Ordinary Parent's Guide to Teaching Reading, so we're about halfway through that book. He's been practicing holding a pencil correctly with the help of a gripper, and we'll start a formal writing program soon, mostly because he keeps bugging me about learning how to write more than just his name. Hey--I'm not complaining!

P and I have also been doing "Math" (or what he sometimes calls "Number Math"), where he practices counting to 100 on the abacus or I write simple addition on our white board and he figures them out by counting dots. The first time we tried this a week or so ago, he literally quivered with excitement. "Mom, I just love this!" he said at least three times. I had to quell thoughts of him, at nine, performing complicated equations with a dry-erase pen on a window (I saw some news segment on a young math whiz years ago who'd do that). So far, I'm just glad he thinks it's all fun. We'll be starting weekly science and history lessons in the next month, too.

S has developed into a tackling machine. Not out of any desire to hurt stems his sudden pouncing; he's just a really physical kid. He's been giving hugs a lot, which is fantastic! I just find myself bruised more frequently. We're working on his gentleness around C, because while she laughs and grins every time he "hugs" (see: pushes, sits on, drags) her, we don't want any trips to the ER. He also is still our little singer. Last week, while he and P played in the leaves, we caught him yelling--YELLING--the Stephen Starke version of the Lord's Prayer. He also randomly bursts into song, sometimes mid-sentence. He also regales us with random comments, like the one just recently when I was helping him in the bathroom: "Mommy, I won't poop on you." I was so relieved to hear that! :) Yesterday we heard him walk into the living room and see something P had done, and he goes, "WOW! A-MAAAAAZ-ING!" His enthusiasm is contagious!

C is testing the waters with walking! She'll pull herself up by a chair or something and then let go--and stand for a second or two by herself. She's definitely thinking about letting go and taking steps (believe us, we can see that look on her face). She's also starting this cheesy-grin/grimace thing. It's so big, it looks like it hurts her face, and we can't help smiling every time she does it! She's a happy little girl. She's eating table food all the time now, and in a month or so we'll start introducing whole milk already. *Sigh.* My baby's not really a baby anymore! P will play with her by himself, and he just loves her, and she him. It's great to see their sibling relationship develop. S and C are still at the "NO, C! That's MINE!" or the sitting-on-her stage. S loves her; he just doesn't want her in his stuff. I admit I dream that someday S and C will have a Jackson/Johannah relationship (that's a Duggar reference, for those of you who don't know).

We've enjoyed jumping in the leaves! And tracking them inside. :)

And a decluttering update: I've cleaned out the laundry room (!!!) and gone through about five bins of micellany besides. I've still got about ten to go, but it's all consolidated, and I've just been plugging away at it whenever we're watching something at night, like the St. Louis Cardinals play during this postseason. Between a clean and not-cluttered laundry room and the Cards, life is good right there.

Autumn, Indoors: Puzzle-Solving, Cookie-Baking, Mess-Making Kids

I wish you could smell the chocolate-chip cookies in here.

I know that we're still hours away from the official beginning of fall, but we here at the Olson homestead have been soaking in the burnished, haunting, twirling, dancing, corn-stalked, melancholy vibes of the season that William Cullen Bryant (absolutely no relation to that vampire clan) called "the year's last, loveliest smile."  I know; my enthusiasm for autumn is a little hard to read. I'll try to kick it up a notch.

The other day, as golden rays streamed through our home's west-facing front, the kids and I enjoyed a nice afternoon. Some learning, baking, and growing took place. Learning--as P is doing by leaps and bounds--plus baking--which S lovedy-loves--plus growing--all three spurt up, but little C fastest of all--this all amidst a vivid autumnal palate of scarlet, sunshine, and cerulean. Okay, I'll cut out the overwrought prose (overwrought for a blog post, I mean). Though we were inside, we cherished the brisk wind through the open windows, the fun of matching puzzle pieces, the yummy crunchy-soft cookies, the feel of fuzzy carpet on cool bare toes. Here ya'll go!

P attacked the number puzzle and solved it all by himself. Yeah, he's reading well.

S showing off the mixer tongs he's licking. 'Cause he helped BAKE! Yeeaah!

Too cute for words! Even the ones in the books and magazines C just pulled onto the floor.

And I've got teeth and can crawl, too!

Late Summer Moments

Yesterday, I took a few pictures of some sweet summer moments. After the last few weeks of convalescence--somehow I got strep, but luckily, Papa and the kids didn't--the quiet normalcy of watching our sons and our daughter was a gift. P pulled out a great two-fer, completing his first self-portrait and writing his name by himself with no prompting. Then he "framed" it on the refrigerator with letter magnets. I had to capture his dual masterpiece for posterity.

As I snapped that picture, C babbled on the floor next to me. She's sitting up by herself now, balancing very well, and a few times a day she even pulls herself up--to look into the bathtub at her brothers, to try to grab books off of a shelf. I've been telling people that even though she's a baby, she's not a baby anymore. Today, as Papa and I rocked on the front porch with C, watching the boys pedal on tricycles on the walk, C reached for me as Papa held her. She looked directly into my face and said, "Ma-ma." We were both moved. Especially when, with a little prompting, she looked at her father and said, "Pa-pa."

I couldn't pick just one. I mean, could you?

After such great pictures of C on the floor, I just had to run outside and capture the boys in action. Our back deck is finally gone--it was old, with a crimped design, and we've wanted a patio for years. Anyway, as I walked out of the back, this is what I saw.

Then I found the boys in the tomato patch, wearing their swimming trunks. Because where else do boys go in their swimming trunks than in the tomato patch?

P and S told me they were pretending the tomato patch was a forest. So there you go.

Papa's been canning consistently these last few weeks--salsa, medium and super-hot, and tomatoes in their own juice--and yet the tomatoes keep coming. August, particularly late August, is tomatoes, I think. Especially Papa's tomatoes.

The boys finally made it over to their swimming pool. Most of their toys spend more time in their pool than they do. Lately they've enjoyed playing in the dirt where the deck was after they get wet. Ah, the joys of children playing!

Happy end of summer, dear ones. May you enjoy a few lovely moments in these waning warm days.