A sight that warms a mother’s heart…

It’s not the matching shirts. It’s not even the quiet boys. It’s the books.

Busy Boys at rest...

Living Under the Trees

The Message

Light in Trees

“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.” Romans 1:20

The Response

Worship with Jeff

The Experience

Canoe Trip

Here We Are to Worship

Somewhere in the din of the first few minutes of the jam session, you can possibly make out the song we were singing.

Jam Session: First Lessons

If there’s one thing you don’t have to tell your neighbors, it’s that you’re having a worship band rehearsal at your house. If they don’t see the drum set coming in the front door, they’ll hear it down the block when walking the dog.

And while they were walking and wondering what possessed us to do this, we were learning the first lessons of a jam session.

1. Follow the Leader

Band Leading for Beginners

It only takes two musicians to create a train wreck. Someone needs to be in charge of the tempo, the arrangement, and the feel. If that’s not you, then you need to listen closely and follow along. That is, if you can hear anything over the drum set.

2. Some People Are Really Talented

All the Moves

Some guys live for this moment. Everything in them comes alive when they play. Sometimes you feel like just listening and taking it all in. Don’t do it. Jump in there and play along. Support them. When they sound better, the whole band sounds better.

3. Stand and Deliver

Joshie's Big Solo

Don’t let that microphone go to waste. Don’t be shy, but don’t suck it into your face either. Just stand up, take a deep breath, and let us have it. The best training for this is to spend time with a four-year-old. He’ll show you how it’s done.

4. Advertise

The Reason We Sing

You can’t get an audience if nobody knows you’re playing. Start with a sign on the door. If that doesn’t work, you can always try Twitter.

5. Share the Love

Showing the Ropes

I Can Do That

Imitation is the highest form of flattery. If you are good, you may inspire others to follow in your footsteps. Allow time to show them the ropes. And the gift goes on. But…

6. Not Everyone Will Appreciate You

Not Listening

It may be hard to believe, but even after all your careful craftsmanship, diligent practice, and flamboyant showmanship, not everyone will appreciate your work. Some people just aren’t listening very closely. You may want to convince them, cajole them, even shake them back and forth. Resist the urge. Either they’ll be wooed your dulcet tones, or it’s just not for them. That’s OK. 

7. Take a Bow

Showing Some Love

It’s OK to take credit for good work and show the audience you appreciate them. If you recognize their gratitude, it encourages them to come back for more. Maybe they’ll buy your album. And your t-shirts. And your behind-the-scenes DVD. Or maybe just feed you lunch after this.

The Jesus I Never Knew

The other day I noticed Spencer happily following TJ around the yard for several minutes. Curious, I asked what they were doing.

“I’m Jesus,” TJ explained, “and Spencer’s my slave.”

Hmmm. “I don’t think Jesus had slaves.”

“Yes, he did. Now Spencer, give me that stick.”

Who can argue with Jesus?

2

Turning 2

He turned 2. It happened all at once. One day he was bumping around the house, going with the flow, looking up with a cute grin, happy to be alive. The next day he stood up tall and started pronouncing our words and deciding that he would try out “no” for a while.

No, I will not finish my dinner. Watch me put my fingers in my mouth to show you there are no vacancies.

No, I will not let my brothers take the toys out of my hands and play with them.

No, I will not sit on THAT chair. I fully intend to sit on THIS one.

No, I will not let you change my diaper just because you suspect something. OK, maybe I will, but when we finish with this, I’m going back to my pile of cars and you better not try to stop me.

Two-year-olds can make decisions. They can raise a stink. They can lift a sword to defend their turf.

Defending the Fort

And 2-year-olds have friends. Yesterday when we were talking about friends, and having fun, and playing in the treehouse, he looked up at me and said “Eli” with the sincerity that let us all know that he’s not 1 anymore. He has a life, and he’s going to live it.

Being 2 with Eli

Get used to it, Dad. I’m 2.

Tupcake? Tupcake?

Daddy’s Shoes

They are virtually irresistible. For one thing, they’re huge. Clown-like proportions…silly big really. And they seem so important. You don’t wear shoes like this unless you’re in charge. And so the boy simply has to try them on and walk around and be the dad—if only for a while.

Fred impressing Ginger

Fun even horizontal

Shucks, she loves me

Not Reading

I have tried 12 times to finish the Solon chapter of Plutarch’s Greek Lives. I shouldn’t have even started the first time, an act of sheer optimism to pick up the book and lay back in my bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow I realized the audacity. I didn’t even make it to page 2 before my eyes gave a 3-second warning and then collapsed.

But the other 11 times were not my fault, I tell you. I have been interrupted by a poopy diaper, a call to eat, a request for water, the lovely opportunity to help administer medicine and brush teeth, conflict over a car, conflict over a truck, conflict over a hat, conflict over a shield, conflict over a book, another diaper (this time just wet—false alarm), and my own threshold of guilt having been reached because she is up there with the 4 kids all by herself.

And so I look longingly at the cover. I even open the book and just smell the pages once in a while. I think about what it would be like if I had read the book, what sort of conversation I could have, what sort of wisdom would be mine, what legacy I’d leave to my children.

But they are not interested in legacy. They want now. They want to make a sword, plunge a dagger into a giant, leap from the third stair onto the two-year-old to see what would happen (”He wanted me to do that, Daddy.”), and it’s my turn, and tell him to get off of me, and can I do what he’s doing, and stooooooopppppp I had it first!

And so when I wandered upstairs to see why things were so quiet up there, and ran into this, I stopped and thought about the book I wasn’t reading and consoled myself with the thought that to slow down and generate 4 more readers might be enough for today, and even if Susan Wise Bauer doesn’t like it, Plutarch can wait one more day. He’s already waited this long, hasn’t he?

Silent reading

Tags: reading

Girl or No Girl

If The Girl is in the crib, there must be something fun going on in there. What is she doing? Does she have blue or hazel eyes today? Does she want to play with my elephant blanket? Maybe we could make the crib into a fort.

Girl

But if The Girl is in her bed and I’m in mine all by myself, I have become a lone reed, a lost planet, a print magazine in the digital age. My father is ruining my life. I’m never going to have any friends, not even the kind that have a Zune. I might as well drop out of homeschool now and start hitchhiking across Highway 10 to find whatever is left of my soul and burn it.

No Girl

Tags: crib, crying

FourThoughts

“So?? How is life with four?”

This is the question we hear the most these days, and it’s often spoken with the eyebrows knit together, indicating concern. Whether for us or the children, we’re not sure, but either way, concern does seem warranted.

Life with four children 6 and under is probably much as you imagine it. We don’t pair the words “free” and “time” together anymore. We’re just storing them separately for now, until Gigi turns 5 or so.

1. It’s loud. There are car noises, bodily noises, shouting, bodily noises (and the ensuing guffaws), and, once in a while, music. And then there’s Gigi. She’s noisy too, so she fits right in. I’m still the quietest person here.

2. It’s messy. Our entire house is messy. We have a very clean friend who comes and helps us with the mess once a week. But then we mess it up again after she leaves. Sorry.

3. It’s needy. We’re all needy. The parents need sleep, the kids need the parents, and Gigi is a bundle of need. Some days I need a shower, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to get one. I can, however, count on lots of hugs and some sticky kisses.

4. It’s fun. The day begins with laughter and loud thuds from the boys’ room. I don’t know what the thuds are, but the laughter sounds like the brotherly love that happens before your brother has done anything mean to you which means he’s probably still in bed.

5. It’s late. We run late to pretty much everything. We’ll probably never again taste appetizers or hear the bridal march or national anthem, but on the bright side, we won’t have to turn off our cell phones or sit through the coming attractions either.

6. It’s temperamental. We swing between extremes, from reveling in the marvelous gift of these four children to wanting to drop them off at Mom’s, ring the doorbell, and run. (Ha ha. Just kidding. No, really.)

7. It’s chaotic. This is the part where I should say something sentimental about how much I love everyone (I do) and isn’t life great (it often is) and what a blessing this all is and yes, it really is, and I promised I would never complain if God gave us another child (that was 3 children ago) and look at us now and I need a nap but the boys need clean underwear and laundry trumps nap so just don’t sit down and you’ll make it through until 8:00 when all is quiet (relatively) and no one has starved or gotten lost or hurt (at least, no one’s bleeding at the moment) so drink it all in and be grateful that this is the life God has given you the grace to enjoy.

And in case any of you kids can read this, we love you all and plan to keep every one of you. Now, who wants to spend the night at Grandmom’s?