a resurrection story

He is risen, indeed!

As our family celebrates Easter this year, the Resurrection seems extra close to our hearts. Jesus died, going to our darkest place, the place that we as humans most fear. He willingly passed into emptiness, solitude, agony, pain, and even the grave itself. But the story didn't end there, of course. Today we celebrate His rising, and with it all the hope He restored to our broken world.

My mother-in-law, Anne, has had a hell of a year. Since last July, she has endured grueling chemo, radiation, pancreatitis, and a crazy surgery. But by the grace of God and through the miracle of medicine and an early diagnosis, she has come out on the other side. She has been declared cancer-free, something we were all afraid we would never hear. This year she has been to dark places. She has faced pain, loneliness, fear, confusion...emotions I cannot even imagine. But the beauty of Easter holds true. Jesus himself went to those dark places. When we travel these roads, we can take comfort in the fact that he, in human form, traveled them before us. And more importantly, we can rest in his Resurrection, for no matter what the end of our path looks like, God has redeemed us and shown us the magnitude of his love for us through His Son's rising. Because of the Resurrection, our hope is real.

While we celebrate Christ's Resurrection, I am also celebrating Anne's own personal resurrection. Anne is a fabulous grandmother--she is very active and hands-on with our children, and they adore playing with her. Since July, though, it's been tough. We've had to tell them she is sick, temper their expectations. She has had to miss outings, watch from afar. But this weekend, the spark has returned. We haven't had to remind them that Gigi is sick even once. She has rallied for the egg hunt and the crafts and the play time. She has sat with them at every meal, watched them perform countless shows, helped them dye eggs. She's read books and kissed booboos. While she certainly isn't back to 100%, and while we may have completely worn her out, I know our kids are leaving with the sense that Gigi is well again. And my heart is so full.

He is risen, indeed.

the whole Shafer crew

Easter morning 2016

my set of shafers

to frances

While finally organizing our master bedroom, I found these:

Long-closed vestiges of my former life. A life lived in high-heels and business attire that came with a bit of glamour (see above) and a dose of drudgery (see long days and nights, billable hours, working on holidays). While I've chosen to walk away from that world for now, I am constantly searching for ways to remind my sweet daughter that a woman's place isn't only in the home.

If you ask Frances what she wants to be when she grows up, she usually says a mom. Which is awesome. And flattering. And hopefully will come true. I hope that one day she finds a wonderful partner and that, if they so choose, they are able to start a family of their own. But I worry that seeing me as "just a mom" sometimes taints her views of what women can achieve.

The concept of having it all is tricky. I believe we can, as both men and women, "have it all" in the sense of career and family and faith and voluntarism and all the other goals we have. I don't, however, believe we can always have it all at the same time. We make choices, hard choices, and change our priorities depending on our life stage. So yes, for now Frances sees me as "just a mom." But as she has gotten older, she has begun to understand that even her "just mom" works a bit from home. That other moms work full-time while their little ones are in school. She is surrounded by so many amazing examples of how to be a woman. She knows that Virginia's mom is a lawyer, that Emmylou's mom makes beautiful music. She knows that Aunt Christina stays home with her kids, while Aunt Bec teaches other little kids.

When I first asked Frances whether a woman could be president, she immediately said no. Needless to say, we've had some discussions since then, and she now proudly proclaims that a woman can be president as well as anything else...that girls can be anything boys can be. Oh sweet girl, hold on to that truth. Hold tightly to the truth that you can achieve your dreams. And I'll hold on to these fabulous shoes for you.

9 months

Ellis, you're a 9-month-old doll. You're still clingy, but you are more and more excited to explore the world on your own, especially if your siblings are nearby. You smile so big--your whole face lights up. You bang on the window to wave when dad leaves for work every morning. You bang on your highchair when you want more of something. Banging seems to be your language of choice. You hate going to your room because you know that means it's time to sleep.

You are fearless. You cruise around all day, and you dive off the two steps to the playroom countless times each day. You try to keep up with your brothers and sister. You pull Cooper's hair every chance you get.

You are my baby. My littlest little. I love you so crazy much.

love day

This couch holds more love than I could have ever imagined. Thankful for graces I could never deserve.

baby's first valentine

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.