Bunkin

Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord and the fruit of the womb is his reward.

As arrows are in the hands of a mighty man; so are children of the youth.

Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them:they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate.

Select verses from Psalm 127, our wedding psalm

In my human-ness, I often find it frustrating when I don't know what the future will hold and never more so than when I hope, long for, and wonder if more children will be given to us to love. It is difficult to find a balance in joy and hope, contentment and longing, satisfaction and desire and this has been the quiet struggle that has occupied my thoughts for many months. Yet, it seems, while my fervent prayers for new life seemed to be unanswered, in the quiet and darkness of my body the Lord was knitting together a new life, even as I spoke to him my petitions. He was quietly granting me my most heartfelt longing, even while the words poured from my heart.

A tiny child, a predestined soul, a beating heart, perfectly formed toes the size of a pinhead, joy in a tangible form, a promise of the future-all wrapped up in the tiny being tucked snugly in my womb.

Though my belly shows no signs of a babe within, though my pregnancies never really have symptoms, and life goes on as usual on the outside: I wake up each morning with my hand having rested subconsciously on my belly, covering Bunkin with what bit of love I can share. I find myself singing and humming more so now than ever before, knowing that each utterance in word and in song is serenading my Bunkin, even when no one else can hear.

It is an indescribable joy, made even more so upon the heels of doubt and insecurities of whether or not the Lord would give us more children. It is much sweeter and more obviously His plan, to have been given the time of waiting. I might not have said that several weeks ago, before I knew, but most assuredly I can attest to it now.

We are elated to know, and share, the news with all those who will share in our joy.

~~~~~~~~~~


When I found out, I went straight to the store and bought an arrow and presented it to Matt, saying "I got you a present. Another arrow for your quiver." It was a surprising and joy-filled look he returned to me, maybe with a hint of disbelief added too! :-)

Matt told Corynn that God had answered our prayers and we were going to have another baby. At that, Corynn's face brightened as she gasped, then said, "When? Tomorrow morning?!?"

When Panda was told: He stared blankly with drool running down his chin. Typical man. ;-)

I told the GRANDPARENTS by making puzzlecards and mailing them. They had to put them together in order to figure out the 'clue'. Some were more obvious than others! hehe



~~~~~~~~~~

I don't usually go to the doctor's right away, so I am uncertain of a due date. In fact, the false positive that I wrote about awhile back-I think was actually a false NEGATIVE. Depending upon that, our Bunkin will arrive either in November or December. Whatever the month, whatever the gender, we already have names picked out. We just need to wait patiently until the time when Bunkin is to arrive.

And now you know!

Rotten Apples

Feminism.

The label given to the movement toward equality of men and women.

The present day outworking of this Feministic movement seems a contradiction in terms, since women are acting anything BUT feminine these days. Boycuts are stylish hairstyles now, jeans are the ever-ready outfit, children are flung to people who have time to care for them, dinners are microwaveable, and houses are getting bigger but more empty all the time. These are all little apple blossoms falling from the tree in springtime.

In our fight for equality, and in the name of Feminism, we are losing the gifts that are uniquely feminine...the ability to bear children. Presently, having children is an inconvenience at best, a curse at worst. Women are finding jobs outside the home because they think that any career outside of the public workforce is an unworthy use of their time and a trivial pursuit and so our husbands' are left to bang their heads against the wall looking for a job that will hire them based on good performance, experience, and expertise-not on equal opportunities. These are the thick, gnarled apple branches that bow low with fruit.

But~even if we grow our hair to our knees, wear skirts to our ankles, our babies play about our barefeet while we prepare from scratch-dinners as the older children work on their homeschool lessons before Father comes home from work...we will STILL be erring, because we are making temporary fixes to the FRUITS and BRANCHES of the problem and not addressing the heart of the problem...the steadfast trunk, the sturdy and tangling roots that keep our whole problem from falling apart at the next brisk wind.

So-what is the heart of the problem? What is that tangling web of indescribably strong roots that keeps women fighting for what doesn't rightfully belong to them? It's discontent. It's pride. It's looking scornfully at God and saying, "You didn't give me a good enough job! You STINK at dishing out responsibilities! I don't LIKE your rules because there isn't anything in it for me-so I am going to make my OWN rules."

Women have this tremendously erroneous idea that men have more important jobs than women and we resent God (and man) that they get all the glory and we get none. We view God as some sort of chauvinistic pig and we view our roles as women with resentment.

In scripture, however, isn't Christ the one that said that men should love women just as He loves the church? We are as important and ought to be treated as highly as He loves and treats His beloved church.

What got me thinking about all of this was because I was contemplating how the WOMEN were the first to find out that Jesus had risen from the dead. Both Jesus' mother Mary and Mary Magdalene were the first to see Jesus, alive and well, and they were the ones that were given the responsibility to go tell the disciple's this great truth. Don't tell me that God cares nothing for women-why else would they be given first witness to the most amazing, miraculous event in all of history?! Jesus, very easily could have gone into the homes of the disciples. But he didn't.

Another interesting note: These women were right in the midst of WOMANLY activities, FEMININE chores. They were caring for the poor, departed. They were going to redress and perfume Jesus' body out of love and respect for him.

As we work in our homes, caring for the weak and lowly (our children), supporting and being helpmeet to our husbands, and showing compassion to those in need (neighbors, strangers, the sick and/or widowed) there is the potential for the extraordinary to happen. Of course, it won't be in the form of Jesus walking up to us as it was for these women, and it may not even happen instantaneously-but as work diligently and with thankfulness for the responsibilities we have been given, we WILL be abundantly blessed and rewarded for our efforts. Perhaps it will be in a returned gesture. Perhaps we will be able to see the fruit of our childrens' faith blossom, perhaps our husbands will thank us, perhaps we will make a difference in the life of a friend and they will share it with us. Most certainly we will be rewarded with a "Well done" by our God himself on that last great day.

There IS value in what we do. We are not meant to be the money makers. We are meant to be the tender-touchers, the smile-givers, the wisdom-imparters, the serving-hands, the child-trainers, and the joy-sharers.

We need to pluck each root of discontent, resentment, and pride so that we can tear down the terrible tree and live free from the bondage of the wormy apples that we have been producing. We ought to EMBRACE our differences and find JOY in the gifts and responsibilities that WE have and find contentment with responsibilites that men have.

In the end, as we sit on our porches in a rocking-chair, gray hair flowing in the breeze as we look out on the sunset-we will see how greatly important our lives really were to so many. We will realize how FULL our lives were with the most important things. And I guarantee, money and and office desk will NOT be in the picture.

Chatter, chatter

Two days ago the weatherman said it was going to be low-50's so I decided it was high-time for a picnic. I knew it would be soggy, so armed with our muckboots and our picnic basket and blanket, we headed to the park.

I don't know WHAT the weatherman was smoking, but it WAS NOT 50 degrees out. The children both wore coats, but I didn't have one-and let me tell you, I froze my patooti off!!!

The kids had fun, we ate yummy picnic food, we fed the ducks...

and I am still trying to shake the chill!

Won't be doing THAT again for a while! ;-)

Easter

I had planned to do a little photoshoot of the kids before church on Sunday but...what with exploding glass and all, I didn't get the chance.

So-as the last potatoes boiled and the ham was keeping warm with the oven off I said

"OK. Supper is ready! But if you want to eat it, go outside so I can take a few pictures because we aren't eating until I get a family picture."

Well, with the promise of food, I didn't have any troubles convincing anyone to head outside, let me tell you.

Kinda like that. I'll have to remember that trick...

It is a great and glorious thing, to think on the great sacrifice of God, and the great obedience of Christ for our sakes. How incredible it is, that we are made whole, complete, and forgiven of sins through the blood of Jesus, spilled for us~but not only that, but that it was a sacrifice with a HAPPY ending. Jesus' death was NOT the end but the beginning of NEW life. He came, again, to reveal the TRUTH to those whom He loved. And so He shall again! Triumphant over sin, Triumphant over death.

The last few weeks, the children and I would read during our lunchtime devotions the great history of events leading up to Resurrection Sunday and then we would discuss those things.

It was on the day that I read about Jesus' death that I began to well up with tears a bit as I read. But Corynn said to me, "Don't cry Mama! Jesus lives! He rose again from the dead!"

And the great joy in her voice and her eyes made me realize that, to much time is dwelling on the PAIN He endured and NOT ENOUGH TIME is ever focused on His RISING above that pain, returning to His people, and then Ascending into Heaven to sit at the right hand of God.

What was the pain for? What was the sacrifice for? We do a great injustice to dwell only on Jesus' death and not on the Resurrection and triumph over death!

It was a great reminder, on the lips of a four year old. Oh, the faith of the least of these....

Feasting

Saturday Morning

We never get doughnuts, which is a shame because I LOVE doughnuts. Saturday I decided I ought to try to make some doughnut holes. Obviously I am not a terribly skilled fryer-I don't have a deep fryer and I don't do it enough to become really good at it. About 2/3 of the dough was ruined by being burned on the outside and goey on the inside. By the last 1/3 of the dough I was frustrated but I got it. They were good.

And...some bunny pancakes.

Not Quite Curious George

Does anyone remember when I said I got the most amazing secret friend letter in the mail, and since I had nothing else to go on-I assumed it MUST have been our mailman, "Curious George"???

Well-I guess he isn't THAT Curious-because it isn't him!

How do I know?

Because my secret friend has struck again!

And Again!

And AGAIN!

I have received COUNTLESS notes in the mail-all mysterious and sweet-and all just as void of clues as the first! The children even got these AMAZING packages in the mail. Opening our mailbox we beheld a BEAUTIFUL sight-and when can someone ever say THAT?!? Look how pretty!!! The children LOVED their goodies and well, I have just adored my notes. Even Matt has joined in on the guessing game. But it is tough, REALLY tough.

I am wracking my brain. Why? Because! Every letter, though it has the same handwriting and uses the same stationary, is sent with DIFFERENT postal codes!

Of the legible ones, there has been....

~ Columbus, GA
~Las Vegas, NV
~Buffalo, NY
~ELMIRA, NY (where my MOM is from!)

not to mention one that didn't have a postal code AT ALL!

Now-how is THAT for stumped?!?

Here are some clues I have surmised...

The sender DEFINATELY reads my blog-there have been several references to things I have written. SO: It's not George, even if He IS friendly.

The sender has my address. This could mean it is from someone who got my address directly FROM me, OR it might be from someone who also reads my sisters blog and she gave it to them. Mental Note: Ask Elizabeth if she knows anything.

And, ashamedly that's it!

In my last note, my very special friend decided to tease me a bit with a few VERY generalized clues.

They are:

I have a dog.
I love a good read.
I love pizza.

Actually~ The only thing that tells me is that the sender could be ME!

I know these lovely little bits of sunshine can't last forever so I keep bracing myself for that last note saying: Well, that's all I have time for. I hope I brightened your day." But, against my better judgement, I excitedly dash to the mailbox everyday in hopes for another clue, another note, another ANYTHING.

I KNOW you are reading my blog and I KNOW you are laughing your wicked little head off at my ignorance, so I will tell you (generally, if not specifically) my sweet and wonderful special secret friend:

THANK you for all the notes you have shared with me, and all the treasures you have bestowed upon us so lovingly, and for all the many smiles you brought to my face and heart. Even after the notes stop, you will have warmed a place in my heart that will never grow cold.

On that day when your identity is revealed (or I get smart enough to make a good guess of it) I will know your name but you'll still always be remembered as my secret special friend. :-)

You really have given me SUCH joy these last weeks!

Confetti

I mentioned our Easter had a bit of 'tragic' in it and here it is, in it's fullblown glory.

I was rushed and went to put the teakettle on to boil when I mistakenly turned on the wrong burner...the one, coincidentally, that was holding one of my favorite blueware oven dishes. I realized my error once I smelled the offensive fumes, and quickly moved the dish.

Matt came over, his shirt off from getting his hair cut, and went to move it off the stove altogether when in mid-air the thing shattered into a gazillion, scalding hot pieces.

The shards of glass spread even into the dining room and hallway!

We both stood there, shocked, and a moment passed before it even registered what had happened.

Immediately, I began crying. Matt, surprisingly, remained calm and supportive.

The children are ALWAYS underfoot-they are our shadows-but by God's grace, they happened to be in the living room.

Matt's whole upper torso was exposed and he was nearest to the explosion (since he was the one holding it) and yet he didn't get scratched OR burned by it.

So-there is much to be thankful for.

But. I lost my blue dish. That was not fun.

What was supposed to be meal prep for the evening dinner was actually spent cleaning up the kitchen of glass remnants. That was not fun.

In fact, when I swept up the pieces, I had to pluck many off the linoleum by hand because they had burned holes into it and melted themselves into it.

And now-we have to replace the linoleum in the kitchen-in a house that isn't our own. And THAT is not going to be fun.

Below are the burnmarks all over the floor. :-(

But again. It might easily have been more tragic than the simple fright and inconvenience that it turned out to be. For that, I am so VERY thankful.

Finishing what I start...

Though every little molecule of my being wanted to post all about our Easter weekend, I just can't possibly put my vacation photos because that just goes against everything I stand for.

Well, not really.

But it would be much better to get the vacation photos posted before moving on. This is my trouble in the craft room too and the very reason why I have SO MANY works-in-progress. Because I move on entirely too quickly.

SO, this is my therapy. This is my way of overcoming my weaknesses. And here I am. Putting my foot down for the greater good.

You know. It's okay too. Because we haven't even had the opportunity to dye our eggs yet! This is going to be a post-Easter egg dying. But hey, who cares WHEN you get to dye fingers and shells rainbow colors-so long as it gets done?!?

Following are the rest of my vacation photos, which will probably bore everyone except myself and the Bibby's. Los siento!

I hope everyone had a wonderful Easter weekend, dwelling on our great and Victorious God!

I'll share all about the wonderfulness and tragedy of it all whenever time permits.

Squeaky

My children have never bathed so much in one week in their whole lives....



I wonder why.... :-)

Hightlight

You can imagine the excitement when we were told a visit to Chuckie Cheese was in the works during our stay. And with BOUGHT food, not BROUGHT no less. Ooh lala!!!

Here are a few from that day.