the sanctification of chaos

Today was one of those days that I just couldn't do it. We woke up to a slight dusting of snow, which of course meant that preschool was cancelled. My one-baby day turned into a four-baby day. The laundry is clean but still piled high in the laundry room. Eight months after our move, our master bedroom is still not in order. Ellis was honed in on every dangerous toy in the house. My work is laughably behind schedule. All the people seemed to be needing all the things all the time, and my anxiety began creeping beyond my control. So I called for official back-up, and luckily I have a partner in life who knows when a call for help is real.

When I'm out and about with my four kids four and under, I get lots of stares and comments. One common refrain is "I don't know how you do it." I usually just smile and nod, or reply with something like "we love it" or "we just get through each day," both of which are totally true. I love this life. I adore it. And I do just get through each day. With this many tiny hands, one day is all you can conquer at a time. But the real answer, the one I should give each time, is that we do this life only by God's grace.

We all like to appear to have it together. The well-decorated and clean house, the mannered and adorably dressed kids, the happy and still fun marriage. We like to be able to look at our accomplishments and think, man, I am really doing some stuff right. And we love to feel like we can do it ourselves. Women, especially, want to say yes to all the things, do all the things super well, and hear a "how does she do it" in the process. We thrive on that approval, that feeling of independence and accomplishment. And of course there is NOTHING wrong with accomplishment. Nothing nothing nothing. But....this "do it all myself" mindset can lead us to abandon our village. It can bring us to a place where we not only think we don't need help, but forget that others around us may be in dire need of assistance. When we take such pride in independence, we may become so isolated that we forget to extend our hand to our neighbors and sisters and friends.

Asking for help is hard. When I had just the twins, I am certain I turned down a number of helpful offers because I thought I could do it myself. And maybe I could. But as the number of young kids under our roof has grown, the chaos has grown as well. And with this chaos has come some hard yet needed reminders of how I want to live.

With four little ones sometimes you truly can't do it yourself. Sometimes you have to have a sitter. Sometimes you have to tell your husband you just can't manage the day. Sometimes you have to cancel plans with a friend to just lie down for an hour instead. Sometimes you have to ask for help with little to offer in return. And pride falls away.

With four little ones, the pictures are usually not perfect. The outfits rarely coordinate. At least one small person will always look totally disheveled. And humility grows.

With four little ones, you are not always on time. In fact, you may run late for everything all the time. And you find yourself offering others more grace. And your empathy expands.

With four little ones, you inevitably have some hard parenting days. You find your voice raised louder than you intended. You speak words a little too sharply. You learn that apologies should come not just from kids, but from parents to kids all too often. And you suddenly feel less judgment for those making parenting choices different from yours. You feel solidarity with the mom who loses it at target.

With four little ones, you realize that you are so lucky to have clean clothes that need to be folded, a husband that is a loyal partner, a house that needs to be cleaned, and tiny hands to grab everything in sight. But amidst the extraordinary gratitude, the chaos can still feel stifling. Yet you realize how much more stifling emptiness would be.

So yes, having four kids (or one kid) brings quite the chaos. But I truly believe that, by God's grace, the chaos can bring sanctification. If we sit with it, embrace it, and listen to our hearts in its midst, we will find sacred places in the chaos. We will find hearts softened toward others; hands more willing and ready to help; mouths less likely to speak in judgment. We will find empathy and apologies and forgiveness and humility, all fertile fodder for the growth of more grace. And couldn't we all use more grace?

hopes fulfilled

My sweet little Ellis is a man on the move. At eight months, he is crawling, pulling up, cruising, and getting into all sorts of trouble. This may be our fourth baby, but he keeps us on our toes.

Ellis is so different from our other three at this age. I'm not sure if it's the nursing, him trying to stake a claim in this crazy house, or just his personality, but he is most definitely my velcro baby. He wants me all day every day. Not just to be held by someone--to be held by mom. And the nursing. Little buddy can nurse for hours on end and be perfectly happy. The child could win an olympic medal in nursing.

I am hopeful that we'll be turning a corner soon, though. He adores his siblings, and more and more he wants to be where they are. He's eating more solids (he can eat an entire sweet potato and is a huge fan of sweet potato fries) and is slowly mastering the art of shoveling cheerios into his tiny mouth.

Like his siblings before him, he is light in the hair department but oh so adorable. He has a sweet little laugh, isn't a fan of diaper changes, and loves to chew on things that he shouldn't. And he claps...the sweetest, tiniest, cutest hand-clapping you've ever seen.

My heart is so full. Ten years ago this winter at a cold pre-marital counseling retreat, I said I hoped to have four children. That bright-eyed (and wrinkle free) 22-year-old couldn't possibly have imagined the adventure she would eventually take. That her heart would break over and over before she finally met her first two babies. That she would decide to stay home with her little ones, realizing that the dreams she had were totally transformed by the very existence of her children. That she would birth four babies in less than four years. That her home would look like the lair of a toy hoarder...and that she would learn to look past the junk and mess and dust. That life with kids wouldn't be perfect--that there would be many days when it felt hard and lonely--but that it would be the best life she could have possibly created. And that the boy standing next to her at that retreat would turn out to be not only an amazing husband, but a dad beyond her wildest dreams.

Ellis Andrew, you are so loved. We dreamed of you ten years ago, and we couldn't be more thrilled that you are ours.

cheers to 2016

As most years are, 2015 has been a mixed bag for us. We joyfully added another son to our family, we found a great little home here in Nashville, and we watched our three "big kids" grow even spunkier. On the other hand, we had some difficult days both before and after Ellis's birth, we've seen friends and family experience deep heartache, and our hearts have been broken by Anne's diagnosis.

I saw a recommendation online to choose one word for the new year rather than make resolutions--to pick a personal mantra. Almost instantly I thought of the phrase "choose joy." But, being the rule follower that I am, I have narrowed that down to just "choose." You see, so many things in life are out of our control...but so many things are also within our control. Every day is full of choices. Each day I can choose my reactions to circumstances and events. I can choose what emotions I dwell on and what I let pass. I can choose to prioritize family and friends and health. I can choose how I spend my time, energy and money. And as a parent, my choices not only affect me, but greatly influence the lives of my four littles. So my 2016 word is "choose," and I pray that I choose well this year.

May 2016 bring you and your family peace, comfort, and love.

celebrating Christmas

Christmas is special each year, but this year has been extra sweet. With a new little brother, time with all of our grandparents, and extra time off for Andrew, we've had a season filled with love, joy, and wonder. I love the magic that Christmas brings. As we wait for our coming Savior, the sweet anticipation fills our homes with a spirit unlike any other season. I am so thankful for another year shared with our children--another year to teach them about Christ's birth, to let them revel in the magic of Santa, to play and bake and unwrap and sing and dance and make forever memories. As this precious time comes to a close and we move into this new year, I pray that the beauty of Christmas will linger in our home, that we will remember that Christ came to us to stay, that He is with us even now, and that the joy of this season can be carried forward throughout the year.

This year we loved our matching PJs.

We decorated the tree.

We made cake...and ate the sprinkles.

We had breakfast with scuba-diving Santa (and Nana and Papa).

We went to Gigi and G's house (and ate more sprinkles there).

We decorated cookies...and ate more sprinkles.

We got new dress-up clothes.

We went to church and left food out for Santa's reindeer.

We made one final round of cookies for Santa...with sprinkles.

Santa came!

We sang "Happy Birthday" to Jesus.

but if not

In this week of waiting--waiting for God with us, for the birth of a baby sent from perfect love--my heart has been heavy. A law school friend and his wife said goodbye to their precious two-year-old son last week. He was just a few months older than Shepherd. From photos, you could tell that he had a playful spirit, adored his big sister, and was deeply loved by his mom and dad. My heart is so grieved for them. I truly cannot imagine their pain. The thought of continuing life without one of our children is so unthinkable, so crushingly unfair. Yet even in the midst of their heartbreak, this family's faith has been astoundingly evident.

When faced with the fiery furnace in Daniel 3, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego responded: "If this be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of your hand, O king. But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up.” But if not. But if not, we will remain faithful. But if not, we will still believe in God's deep love for us. But if not, we will still cling to our Lord. 

We all have "but if not" moments in our lives. Some are small, some are large, but everyone has pleadings that seem to go unheard. I need so much work on my "but if not" response. I wish I could say that I am always certain, that on dark days when the world makes no sense I still begin my morning with words of praise. But that's just not true. My "but if not" takes time still. For me, sayings and platitudes offer no comfort. Instead, in my doubt and wrestling, I have found the greatest comfort in resting in the mystery. So much of what we believe as Christians, or as followers of any religion, is based in mystery--truth that is hidden in God. And while it seems a bit oxymoronic, my analytical self finds solace in the mysteries of our faith. The mysteries of new mercies each day, of grace upon grace. The mysteries of forgiveness and love personified. For me, there is comfort in the concept that we are are not supposed to understand.

I am so inspired by this family's response in their unimaginable "but if not" moment. I pray that the mystery of God's grace and mercy continues to surround them in a way we cannot understand. And I pray that both their pain and their perseverance will remind me of how lucky I am. Yes, days with four little ones can be tough, but not nearly as difficult as a day without them. I keep going into our bathroom and looking at our towel hooks. Four hooks for four towels for four precious heads. And during this week of waiting, this week filled with anticipation, I wait beside them in their grief and and I wait, full of renewed gratitude and wonder, for the birth of our King. 

"In the dark, in the doubting, when you can't feel anything, oh His love remains the same."

- Ellie Holcomb

meeting santa

I have so many back-logged blogs in my brain...so much I want to capture before I completely forget the details. But for now, a timely post.

We saw Santa twice this weekend, and the second visit resulted in some of my favorite pictures ever. No tears in the picture and no parents (for the first time). Shep got a little nervous at first, but Barnes held his hand and he quickly calmed down. Ellis petted his soft furry suit. All three big kids told him one thing they wanted. They were enchanted. I love Christmas magic though the eyes of my children.

half a year of ellis

Somehow Ellis is 6 months old. In fact, he'll actually be 7 months old next week, and I have been terrible about documenting his life. I haven't blogged enough, haven't even opened his baby book, and most of my pictures are on my phone. But I can promise we've been loving on this little one. From his gummy grin to his still bald head, we're smitten with our youngest.

At 6 months old, he is rocking on his hands and knees trying how to figure out how to officially crawl. But just because he can't crawl doesn't mean he can't move. He rolls, he scoots, he spins, he booty-bounces. Today he managed to move across a room while I was turned away, and he's super determined if he sees something he wants. He is so glad to be able to sit--he was getting very tired of lying on his back all the time.

He is obsessed with his siblings. If his brothers or sister are in the room, it's impossible to get him to nurse. He already wants to be in the middle of their antics. I think Frances and Barnes get more smiles from him than anyone, and they are so very good to him. They are gentle and loving and inclusive. They read to him, help him sit, get him toys. They love having a baby brother.

He's still trying to decide what he thinks about food. Like a typical 6-month-old, some days he devours the applesauce and some days he just smears it on his head. So far he really hates bananas.

Ellis is not a great sleeper. In fact, he's kind of terrible. He loves to get up to nurse, and mommy is kind of over our middle of the night cuddles. In fact, he kind of likes to nurse all day every day. Not sure how much he really eats, but the boy loves his mom.

Though our sleep has decreased, our joy is abundant. We are so thankful for these months with him and love watching him grow and learn.