Pyramids and the Meaning of Life

 

For half an hour I sat in solitude, gazing at what was before me. 3 giant monuments. The culmination of generations of work, tied up with beliefs about life after death. There was hope for eternal peace wrapped up in these powerful towers. Meanwhile, on the car speakers was a song on repeat that drew my mind toward thoughts of a simple life. A life of contentment, love, faithfulness. No giant monuments in that life... at least none to be seen. And certainly none worthy to have hope set upon them.

May my daily life at home with my children, my man, my neighbors BE MY WORSHIP, be MY MONUMENT. My eternity is already secure in Jesus, my Savior, yet I want to build a monument of worship for Him still in the daily things in front of me. That’s where life is found. Holiness is there. Worship is there. May that be where I am found.

Let It Snow...

A girl can dream...

Shaped at Home

Hours of Lego, many books read together, baking, helping around the house, a fort, poems, art project, laughter, music, multiplication, audio books, and so much more. These are the days I love, at home doing the things of life and learning together. These are the cozy and fun days that deepen our relationships together, that give opportunities for talking about our Creator amidst our activities.

These are the days worth fighting for in a culture that tells us to do more, more, more with and for our children. And I say YES, let’s do lots with and for our children, but can it be done AT HOME together with no big agenda other than to do the things of daily life together?

Its not easy to have the big margin in our family life that allows these peaceful days at home to happen occasionally, but it’s worth the intention it takes to simplify the calendar and the commitments. Home together Is where the beauty of life and relationship has a place to put down roots and flourish. This is where hearts grow.

We are not perfect. We had arguments and fits and whining. But we also practiced walking through THOSE things together today and came out on the other side. It was a good day today. I’m bone weary, but my heart is full and I couldn’t be more thankful.

Birthday Tradition

It’s birthday tradition ever since @silkesiegele and I threw ourselves a birthday meal years ago. 🌸 My life is full of beautiful people, near and far. 37 is gonna be good. 🌺

Royal Mess

It looks like I've been a machine in the kitchen all day. But really all I did was bake banana muffins. This mess! What is wrong with me?!

That Breeze

The breeze that comes through this window (and all the other windows/doors in my house) as I sit and read this morning is one of the 647,853 reasons I am so blessed by our home.

Building Rhythms

Just heard Sally Clarkson use this phrase in a recent podcast… “Building rhythms of expectation.”

She was using it, I believe, in the context of what we are cultivating in our homes.

It resonated with me for the following reasons:

1. Rhythms are great.

Just in the past month, when I unexpectedly had my children home with me all the time because of a long school holiday that I did not know was coming… rhythms changed my life!!! In the past, long stretches of time (weeks, I’m talking) at home with my children while Mike keeps his regular work schedule have been SO CHALLENGING for me. It’s embarrassing to admit. They’re my kids! Can’t I handle them? Can’t I cope with having them at home with me?

Ugh. Apparently not that well.

I knew the long break this year was going to be challenging. So with some input from friends, I organized a rough schedule for our days. I won’t go into details now, but let me say that this long school break was TOTALLY REDEMPTIVE for me! I enjoyed our time together so much and was truly sad to send them back to school a few days ago.

All because of a few rhythms to structure our days at home.

Halleluiah!

2. Expectations are everything.

I went through a season when I would walk a block to pick up Mister B from his nursery school a few mornings a week. I’d carry him home just after lunch, change his diaper, and INTENTIONALLY not even allow his feet to touch the floor in our home. I took him from the diaper changing table straight to his crib for his nap. Every time. And you know what? He settled into his nap easily and quickly and quietly!

These days, I haven’t been keeping that rhythm, and you know what? The boy cries basically every time I lay him down.

The difference? Expectations.

When he knows what is to come and it happens, he settles happily into this comforting rhythm. When I change it up and he doesn’t know if he’s going to have to go to bed now or later or not at all, then he gets confused and in the end, angry that he has to lay down.

SO

All that to say.

I want to build beautiful rhythms of expectations in my home for myself and my children. I believe it can make a big difference in our home life, and I’m gonna work on that! I’m not talking about legalistic structure that I become a slave to. I’m talking about life-giving patterns to help shape our days.

Peaceful Afternoon

A good book, pillows and blankets, a twinkling tree, piano winterlude, a peaceful home. One of my happiest places.

Rare Symmetry

I am not one for symmetry but I have no regrets here. #oldstuff #newhome #yesourwallsarepink #swoon

The Light Streaming In

We are preparing to move around the corner very soon. But it isn’t because we are unhappy with our current home. We love it here and are so thankful for the almost two years we had here. There are a lot of things that I love about our flat, but one that I’m especially going to miss is the way the light streams in, further and further in winter and brightens up the whole place in the late afternoon.

A Gifted Tray in my 'Shelfie"

My latest #shelfie addition. (The tray). @pilgrimzoe it couldn't be more perfect.

Pegboard Joy

I cannot, for the life of me, explain to you why I have never purchased a pegboard in the past. We are basically meant for each other.

Shelves on the Wall...

Today's work (among a thousand other things, including 6 kids all day!). So satisfying. I rearranged (of course), hung the shelves, and dressed them. Aaaand my feet are killing me and you don't wanna know how badly I need a shower! It's been a good day.

Joy... Sharing my Table

The Need Hopper

This story is same for most Mamas of tiny humans. And possibly big humans. Wow there are a lot of needs.  And how many Mamas do they have?

That’d be ONE.

Whew.

(They also have a father who works very hard and helps out so much. But for the sake of this post, let’s pretend it’s the week that he’s traveling, okay?)

So there is ONE Mama.

And there are oh-so-many needs.

The math doesn’t always work out in my favor. Whether it’s one kid or four, I’m fairly certain the need level feels equally as overwhelming.

From the moment they awake, The Need Hopper starts filling. (My Dad is the one who first used the term ‘need hopper’. He used it one day during their recent visit when he saw me meet need after need after need for my children. Since then, I’ve found that visual picture somewhat helpful. Thanks Dad!)

Anyway.

If I am diligent to get up before the children and get dressed and have a moment to, you know, THINK A THOUGHT or something, then I’m doing well preparing for the on-set of needs into The Hopper. However, if I can’t leave the bed earlier than my children, then I am jolted awake as The Need Hopper starts to fill. Now there is no stopping it. And it’s no use ducking for cover either. THEY WILL FIND YOU.

If you were to graph a mother’s day with hour of the day on on axis and amount of needs on the other axis (?! Where did that come from?!), the first couple hours would be preeeeeetttyyy high. We are talking bottom wiping, breakfast preparing, baby nursing, clothes picking, fit curbing (clothing choices, ack),  lunch packing, water bottle finding, diaper changing, yogurt feeding, teeth brushing, baby high-chairing, hair brushing (don’t even get me started), shoe putting (also, so much harder than it sounds if you have a toddler), jacket choosing, backpack carrying, finally exiting, car loading, fit  curbing (seatbelt meltdown), forgotten item retrieving, oh my.

I’m pretty sure I forgot some things.

Did you see that Hopper? Like, it was teetering waaaay up there in a pile. And as soon as a couple needs were fulfilled and dropped out (I love that feeling!), more appeared at the top: (“Mom! I need a new notebook for school! Mom! The baby’s diaper stinks! Mom! My ballet leotard needs washed for tonight! Mom! I can’t zip my jacket! Mom! He pushed me!)

I mean really. It’s like madness.

What was I saying?

Oh yes, that nifty graph.

It might taper off for a bit in the morning if needs diminish to things such as diaper changing and toddler-disaster-averting. Okay, wait. Toddler-disaster-averting is baaaasically a full time job. I tell you, as soon as you save him from pulling that mug of hot coffee on his head (good save, Mama! Bet you didn’t even know he could reach up there on his tippie-toes) and you sit down cause there was a need in The Hopper but you took care of it like a champ… then whaaaaaaat?! Plunk. That same TODDLER HEADED FOR DISASTER need falls back in The Hopper.  This time, your very new walker is headed straight for the stairs and doesn’t appear to be making appropriate adjustments to his direction or speed. AAAHHHHHH. Fill that need, lady!!

Got ‘im.

Need filled.

Exhale.

Plunk.

Wait. What was that? It’s baaa-aaaack?

What could it possible be this time?

He’s headed for the wires. Again.

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Seriously people. That Hopper is rarely empty.

-------

So, the graph.

It spikes at meal times, of course. At the lunch hour it definitely goes up because at the very minimum we’re talking a mess of a baby and a mess of the highchair and a good three feet diameter around the blessed child. Bring out the rags and the broom and a possible change of clothes. Not to mention getting out fourteen various foods to try to get him to eat and then putting fourteen various foods back away after they were nibbled, pushed away at the first offering, or promptly chucked across the room. (I have a for-real food-chucker right now. Sometimes he drops food he doesn’t want. Sometimes he gives it a real good fling. Fun times).

In our (slighly depressing?) graph… the needs might taper off after that, especially if one little human takes a nap. Glory, halleluiah!

This is when dear sweet caretaker needs to make a decision to either ignore The Need Hopper, or try to empty the darn thing.

Choose wisely.

Because once those kiddos walk in the door from school that Hopper might not be empty for the rest of the day. We’re now adding in homework and snacks and YET ANOTHER MEAL.

At dinner and bedtime… I tell you no chart could contain the number of needs on it’s tidy little axis lines. You must keep your head in the game to keep those needs falling out of The Hopper. Steady and diligent work will certainly get you closer to your goal of a mostly empty Hopper that might stay emptyish for a couple hours of the evening, as long as everyone stays asleep without incident. Which isn’t likely, especially if husband is traveling. You could also employ the ‘ignore The Hopper’ strategy in the evenings, which I often recommend.

And around and around it goes.

Some days I am a Need-Hopper emptying CHAMPION, lemmetellya.

Other days the first few needs into The Hopper feel crushing and I want to throw off the darn thing and have a moment for me-self.

As kids grow, it is rewarding to see them meet their own needs. And each other’s occasionally, glory!  My Hopper gets a little lighter and my heart swells with pride. But theeeeennn I get all nostalgic and sad that they’re growing up so fast, waaaahh!!!

Oh motherhood is so bittersweet. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Now that I think about it, if someone were to try to take my Hopper from me… I’d be one angry lady. “That is MY Hopper! Their needs come to ME, you hear me?!!” That’s what I’d say. Although I wouldn’t mind if someone borrowed it now and then I suppose…

*wink*

I Have No Life

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Disclaimer: This is an honest and vulnerable post. It is challenging for me to write posts like this because I believe it’s important to be positive and joyful, which I am a lot of the time. But I don’t want this blog to be an unfair portrayal of my life… I want to share my joys and my struggles too. I think it’s vital that others don’t think my life is entirely happy home-life and smiling adventures. I have ups and downs like everybody else. I know you already know this, but it helps me to put it out there.

I am also careful about posts like this because I don’t want to misrepresent God or His ways. I am no theologian and I worry about saying the wrong thing. Forgive me when I do.

Okay, I got all that off my chest, you may now read on…

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I have no life.

There. I said it. But I only partially mean it. I obviously DO have a life drenched in grace and love and undeserving gifts from my Heavenly Father. I am healthy and my family is healthy and we are fine.

But still, I have no life.

My life is in Africa. Or sometimes in Ohio. Or other times in Colorado. But it’s not here. And out of stubbornness and refusal to give even a hint of admitting defeat, I don’t want to get a life in Jordan. This is not my place. This it the in-between. We are just passing through. Just.

Now, don’t get me wrong (especially my new and beloved friends who do have their lives in Jordan) … I have seriously loved getting to know people here and this place. New friends have been generous with us and have shared/are sharing their lives and homes with us and we are so so grateful. As much as I could live here and be a part of life here with them, I find myself holding back, scared to give myself as if there’ll be less of me to take back to my home. Or that if I give myself here, that there somehow won’t be a home to go back to.

My home in Africa centers my life. My second floor concrete and tile apartment is my place. It’s my five years of hard work in making a home that finally feels like home. It’s my plants that I water and my balcony swing that I sit on while I watch the kids in the paddling pool. It’s my kitchen where I plan and prepare meals for my family. It’s my utensil drawer with my favorite knife that feels like an extension of my hand. It’s my desk where I prepare for Sunday School lessons and organize Mom’s group. It’s my lumpy cotton mattress. It’s the sideboard by the door where my phone sits and rings daily… someone needing me, someone caring for me, someone wanting to see me… signs of my life there and the people that I do life with. It’s my couches where I chat with those friends who share my same joys and frustrations of the Africa-meets-Arabia city that I call home after sweating and crying it out for many years. It’s my craft cabinet and my daughter’s cloth diapers. It’s my boy’s Legos and my husband’s books. It’s my own shower and my own dusty stairwell. It’s where I care for and nurture my family so that we grow together and venture together. It’s my living room where we tell local friends what God has done for us. It’s my open market three blocks away. It’s my indoor/outdoor church. It’s my Saturday-swimming-pool-with-friends routine. My home is where I host. It’s where I create. It’s where I give. It’s my calling. It’s my obedience. It’s my joy. It’s my spring-board for love and my nesting place.

It’s home.

I know that it’s not all perfect in that compound. I do love it. I also hate (strongly dislike?) it at times. It’s my pretty (it’s all relative people) home, yes… but it also makes me sweat buckets and gives my kids heat rash. My plants die, my balcony swing creaks, my desk is covered in dust and I get so much attention at the market sometimes I want to scream. I cut my fingers on my nice knife weekly. I step on the Legos, the diapers stink and I wish my shower weren’t so old.

I’m not saying life at home is perfect. I’m not saying it’s not hard. But I’m saying it’s the kind of hard that I’m used to. It’s the kind of hard that I’ve grown to understand. It’s the kind of hard that I can anticipate and the kind of hard that I’ve learned to thrive in the midst of. And I want to go home.

I want my life back. The good and the bad.

I try to rejoice in my current lot. I try to choose the right attitude. I know it’s about Love. Patience. Faith. Thankfulness. That’s it’s about abiding in Christ no matter what the circumstances. I tell myself this. I know it’s truth, but the pathway from the place in my head that knows these truths to the place in my heart that feels it seems to have some obstructive construction or something. A detour maybe? The message hasn’t quite made it yet. Maybe I’m resisting. Maybe I’m sinful (um, duh!). Maybe I’ve got it all wrong.

I try to choose joy. I try to have faith.

Today I read this hit-home passage, written (I think) by City Central Church out of Tacoma:

“The hardest part of faith often involves simply learning to wait. Troubles arise when we jump in to start fixing problems ourselves, which invariably makes things worse. In fact, we can end up complicating matters so that it takes God longer to straighten them out, than it would have to wait quietly for Him in the first place.

God’s timing is often a mystery to us - and can sometimes be a source of frustration. But we must not give up, and we must not try to arrange our own solutions. We must stand firm, believing and waiting for God. And we can be assured that we are not alone as we patiently wait for His answer in His time: we join the great host of saints through the ages whose faith was tested and purified by waiting for God.”

I guess I’m just learning to wait. Okay then. So this isn’t the ideal waiting place. I wonder did we hear God wrong? I don’t think so. I do know that God doesn’t always give us the easy way (which would have been in one of two other places that we can call ‘home’). In fact, do I even WANT the easy way, when I know that “There's more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we're hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next"? (Romans 5:3, The Message) Aren’t passionate patience, virtue and alertness to God’s ways more desirable than getting my way, remaining weak, having no integrity and no hope? No, I’ll choose the hard-way and give God a chance to teach me perseverance, character and hope.

This time He did give us a hard answer… He told us to come and wait in a new place. I don’t know why. It is a mystery to me. But I have faith. I try to have faith? Yes, I CHOOSE to HAVE FAITH in God and His plans for us! And I totally dig the idea that in my faith-waiting season, we “join the great host of saints through the ages whose faith was tested and purified by waiting for God”. I’m a save-the-best-for-last kinda girl and if I have to go through some challenges now to reap a reward later, I’ll do it. Isn’t that what this temporary life in earth is about anyway?

This is certainly a season of ups and downs, of joys and suffering. I do feel a bit life-less through it all. But I trust God’s timing. And I know He has a purpose.

So I’ll wait for Him.

Redemption III - The Oven

It's taken me some time to use up my Christmas coupons.

This is okay with me.

Recently after our old stove/oven started leaking gas constantly, it made it easy for us to make the decision to go ahead and get me my new stove that was promised at Christmas.

Before I show you the new one maybe I show you the old one?

Then, and only then, can you appreciate the new.



Maybe it looks okay to you. And I guess it was okay. I used it for five years in this condition.



But it had gotten quite filthy, yes. That's easy to see. But it also was only partially functional. The door made an awful noise when opening and closing and never did close all the way... so if the heat of the house itself wasn't enough... add to it the oven which would heat the entire kitchen right along with the oven itself. Whew. It was a bit much. My kitchen is often over 100 degrees. Although that might not change...

Also, only three of the burners worked. And only two of them were moderately reliable.

It had a serious hot spot in the front right side that caused every batch of muffins/cake/anything to seriously burn if I didn't properly rotate.

Oh yeah... and the door not closing caused the heat to rise directly onto the stove and oven controls... so it was never possible to touch the controls without hot pads or as I often used, tongs.

Okay. I think that covers it.

And now, drumroll please...



Hallelujah and Amen!



Isn't she a beaut?



All four burners work. The door closes all the way. The controls don't get hot. No awful noises. No leaking gas. No hot spot. No heat-the-entire-kitchen-like-the-oven capability.

Thank you Mikey!

I love it and I love you.

New, Improved...

A million years ago when my parents visited...

or

Just yesterday when my parents visited...

(depending upon how I am feeling in the moment)

...my Dad did some great improvements to our place.

The first was building us a screen door! Glory hallelujah!



It keeps the skeeters out of the house but the breeze (on occasion) and the green IN!

We all love it. Even H has perfected the right angle and pressure needed to close it properly and N loves to sit by it and look outside.



Or actually I should say that she loved to sit by it and look outside (like in these pictures) before she learned that she herself could push open the door, crawl over to the sandbox/plant pot/stray leaves/half-full bucket and become a little (happy) sandy dirtball before her Mama had time to think... "Where did sweet N go?" and then rush outside to find her grinning, with dirt smeared all over.

Just happened (again) this morning. A good Mom would have wiped her off and changed her clothes. But this Mom just threw her in the car as-is to go visit a friend. Whatever.



A simple lock would remedy that problem, but we haven't gotten there yet...

The second improvement has also been A.MAZ.ING.



This was my old countertop.



It was well used, to be sure.



I'd tell you something clever like "It was original with the house" but I don't actually know. And anyway, isn't that information useless unless I knew the year that the house was built?

Oh well.

After numerous trips to tile stores for the right tiles and numerous trips to the market for cutting and supplies the work began.

I think I tried to prepare my father ahead of time for how not-easy and not-straightforward doing house projects is in this country. I don't know if it sank in until he and I spent about three hours combing the market, chatting with people, asking questions, making exaggerated motions, drinking tea, and going on wild-goose hunts just to come home with some wood, some screen, and some screws.

Then maybe he got it.

But maybe not.

Because that was just the beginning.

But he sure did persevere. Did I tell how all how amazed and impressed with my parents I was when they were so willing to experience everything about daily life here with no fear and no complaints?

I mean, my Mom even ate orange wedges every day.

And my Mom never eats orange wedges. (yes Mom, I noticed...and I love you all the more for it!)

Aaaaaaaanyway. Back on track, Suzanne.

Right.



Good thing Poppi had an apprentice. No matter that that small apprentice apparently has some sensitive ears.



I was also a (not so small) apprentice. And look! I was wearing sweat pants! Amen.



The finished product is wonderful! (and yes, we moved the fridge, in case you noticed.)



So smooth, clean and white. And so nice and not chipped and not dirty and not stained. You know... it's just so smooth and clean and white! I don't know how else to say it people.

Can you sense my joy?

My joy is great each time I wipe this counter. Even a million years or one day (or actually, a few months) later.

Thanks Mom and Dad for all you did. For coming here. For being here. For doing life with us for two weeks.

And thanks, too, for the screen door and new tile counters.
:)

Organization

We recently got a new (used) wardrobe for the kids room. We don't have any built-in closets in our flat (most homes don't). We have had various metal wardrobes and cabinets for many years, but I am slowly trying to replace the metal furniture in our house that reminds me of office furniture with wooden, warmer feeling homey pieces.

So awhile ago when it was time to switch... this is how we started:



By dumping everything on the floor.

Oh my.

This may have overwhelmed some.

But me? It made me TOTALLY excited!

I did have some help...



Like this guy who was the music D.J.



And provided some dancing entertainment.



And this girl helped me by knocking over my neat stacks of folded clothes. She is so great to have around.



Once it was all washed out it was ready to fill.



We started from the top down.





Oh wait... I don't think that's the best place for those two munchkins. Then where will I put the spare diapers and pack n play sheets?!

;)



Soon everything was in it's place. Things were purged, folded, organized and sorted.

Aaahhhhh.

I just love this kind of project... I can't help it! Making organization out of chaos brings such joy to my heart...

A New Love Language

So, we all know about the Five Love Languages. You've got words of affirmation, gifts, quality time, touch and acts of service.

Today I discovered a new one that Gary Chapman obviously isn't aware of.

It's the drive-me-to-a-bunch-of-stores-to-find-the-almost-perfect-thingy love language. Mikey did it so willingly on the way home from visiting our vegetable man and his family tonight. Went something like this:

1. Pull up in front of plastic shop.
2. Jump out of car, being careful not to trip on my long skirt and fall flat on my face.
3. Greet man working in the shop.
4. Ignore the smirk on his face and his glance over to his friends to say "Lookie guys! I have a white lady in my shop!! Isn't this neat?!"
5. Glance around amongst many dusty plastic tables, plastic chairs, plastic buckets, plastic baskets, plastic bowls, plastic tanks, plastic containers, plastic trays, plastic EVERYTHING.
6. Locate a set of plastic shelves.
7. Try to explain using wrongly-pronounced words and various hand motions that yes, I want something like this, only a bit different and with wheels on the bottom.
8. Listen as they tell me no, we don't have that.
9. Stand politely while they offer me any number of other various plastic items that they believe I am in need of.
10. Say no thanks.
11. Climb back in the car being careful not to get my long skirt caught in the door.
12. Repeat steps 1-11.
13. Repeat them 12 times.
14. Then find an almost perfect version in the last possible shop and get excited.
15. Try to choose the least ugly color between pink, purple and yellow.
16. Attempt to barter price from 20 down to 15.
17. Succeed at my bartering attempt "9ashaan Arabi tamam" (because my Arabic is good!)
18. Climb into car final time with coveted plastic shelves in hand.
19. Tell Mikey how loved I feel!



It's the small things.
:)