"The labor of the righteous leads to life..."

It was the middle of the night and I heard ringing. I tried to ignore it. Maybe Eli would take care of whatever it was. Then I realized that it was the phone and I should answer it. I had been invited to attend a friend's delivery, but she wasn't due for a couple days and we all thought she would go about a week past that. When I saw Johanna's name on the cell phone screen, I was still confused. But then she said it. She was really in labor and it was really time to drive down and join her! It felt so strange leaving my family at four in the morning. But Eli had that day off and as I ran down the housekeeping tasks I realized that it really was as good a time as any to be gone.

I had been at two of my brothers' births, but it was completely different being there after giving birth myself. Johanna's mother, her mother-in-law, and I kept giving each other knowing glances. We were having to relax and breath right along with her during each contraction!

It was an honor to be there to watch my friend labor. I've known her since she was a little squirt with big glasses and long, tangled hair. We scampered around together on many an afternoon and now I was waiting with her for her tiny child to make the difficult journey into life. She would make it through each contraction and then lean back smiling sweetly, relieved. Her husband was there for each one, rubbing her back, keeping her focused, praising her, loving her. Towards the end she was dilated and ready, but that stubborn little baby's head was turned the wrong way. That's when she had to lay on the bed in the most uncomfortable position waiting through each contraction for the moment when the head would slide into place. It was her own valley of shadow, but she was surrounded by friends and family and midwives helping, hoping, praying, waiting. But oh, what a wait!

Then finally, all of a sudden, Johanna knew it was time. She turned over and before we knew it we could see a matted, hairy little head! The exhilaration! The joy! We exclaimed, sobbed, and rejoiced! It was only a few more pushes and a new person was born, changing colors and slimy.

"It's a girl!" John cried out and with a catch in his voice he announced, "Here is my daughter, Victoria Faith!"

We sobbed some more as this little girl took her first breaths. We were overjoyed as her lusty cries filled the room. The rest of the evening was spent cooing over tiny hands and listening to every little squeak and snuffle she made. She pooped all over the place, she nursed like she was born for it, and she was perfect in all the ways a brand new person should be.

Little Victoria Faith, your mother is a strong woman. She was not afraid of the task of bringing you into the world and she handled it like a warrior fighting the good fight. Your mother is a beautiful woman. Peace settled on her face as she rested between contractions and she continued to smile sweetly at us, even when she knew another was on the way. And her face just beamed with true inner joy when she was finally able to hold you in her arms. She loves you more than you will ever know until you grow up and have babies of your own. May God bless you and strengthen you and may He grow you up into just such a woman.

Clues

1. I walked past the tomatoes in the grocery store and had a sudden urge to buy some. I don't even like tomatoes.
2. My nose has suddenly acquired super powers.
3. My stomach is not my friend.
4. I am looking seriously for a minivan.

Yep, you guessed it!

Happy Birthday, Lucy!

Lucy turned three and we had ourselves a little party!

As a door turns on its hinges...

...so does the lazy man on his bed. (Proverbs 26:14)

Last year, when we took our kids to the zoo, I learned that lions spend a lot of time lying around. In fact, they will rest for up to 20 hours of their day! Lazy beasts, huh? But no, they sleep this much because the animals they eat typically don't want to be caught. So those four hours that lions work are four hours of hard work.

My mother is a lioness (and a Lyons). She needs a lot of sleep, but when she is fully rested she gets more done in the hours she's awake than most of us have the drive to do in twice or three times the time. Getting up early doesn't lengthen her day, it just makes her tired. Instead she takes that extra hour or so of sleep (more if us kids have been keeping her up late asking for advice) and then she can just go, go go, attacking those projects like a lion brings down an antelope.

I am not a Lyons anymore and I never really worked like a lion. However, it is only the past year or so that I've realized this. I used to work very hard to get the proper amount of sleep to maximize my energy during the day. Nap times were enforced religiously and boy did I struggle with my attitude if people around here woke up before the approved hour. But then something a good friend just mentioned in passing about her studies in Proverbs changed my life forever.

As she read through that book of wisdom she realized that many of the references to sleep also referred to the lazy man...or the sluggard...or the fool. She described how she had been counting hours of sleep and allowing herself to be tired and grumpy if she got less sleep than she thought she needed. But she could have been describing my own habits. If I stayed up late and then certain little people got me up early (and the two always go together, don't they?) well then I would be sluggish and foggy all day. My friend made me realize, though, that it didn't have to be like that. I was letting myself be tired. It was all in my head.

Wait a minute, back up, hold the phone! There are times and seasons when the hours of sleep just don't add up. I've had newborns, I've had children with croup, I've been to midnight showings. Some days are just meant for piling on the couch reading books together or laying on the floor and letting the kids pile on you while you close your eyes for just a minute or two. But at the time I heard this I had two kids who slept till 8:00 am and took a synchronized two hour nap (thanks to the aforementioned religious sleep training). I was pregnant with the third, but I was thriving and fit.

I've always thought, "If God wanted me to see sunrises he would have an 8:00 showing." This paradigm shift came in the summer and I began to wonder if maybe I was missing out on something. Besides I thought it was silly and inefficient to install room darkening shades to keep half the morning light out and then turn on electrical lights for hours in the evening. Why not just get up with the sun and go to bed with the sun?

So I gave it a go. I took some early morning walks. I weeded and mowed (okay, once or twice) in the cool hours before breakfast. I began reading the Bible regularly while the house was quiet and still. Sunrises sure are stunning! Each one different, each a reflection (and blurry at that!) of heavenly glory...

I do not get the perfect amount of sleep to balance the demands of the day. But I have stopped relying on sleep to get me through the day. "God," I say, "if You bring us an episode of croup on the night we stay up watching a movie and cuddling on the couch, well then You're just going to have to help me through it. And God, if the baby chooses that morning to wake up early, then please be in my smile as I wish her a good morning!"

There just isn't anything like motherhood to make a woman realize her own inadequacy. But thankfully, there's a God for that.

Bored Books

I have a basket for our board books. They are all such funny shapes that they don't fit on the shelves very well and I wanted them separate so Esther could easily find them.

One morning I put a blanket on the floor and told all the kids to stay there and read books while I went off to get something done (I believe the project of the moment was getting dressed). They did a pretty good job obeying... When I came back they were still there and the toys were still put away, though the little chairs had been moved and they each had a blanket.

As I helped them put the books that they had looked at away, I told them to put the board books in the basket. That's when I heard Lucy say, "I'm bored of this book so it goes in the basket."

Because the freshly vacuumed floor was just too clean...

I do not compulsively clean our home. Over the past five years I have learned better systems and discipline so that I can keep the place looking peaceful, but I don't clean for love of the process. Today I vacuumed the children's room for the second time since we moved here in May.

Rewind a bit. A few days ago I received a package in the mail. It was a tidy little box and after I removed my item it was still about two thirds full of packing popcorn. The garbages needed to be taken out so I didn't have anywhere to dump the stuff and I thought Eli might want to add it to the stash at Exodus. So, instead of taking care of it I set it by the door so he could take it with him on his way to work.

Fast forward to this evening, right before dinner. I had forgotten to tell Eli about the afore-mentioned box of packing materials so he didn't even know it was there for the taking. I had been working on an Exodus project with my brother, Zack, all afternoon instead of preparing for our dinner guests so I was just hurrying down to get pork chops frying. While the cat was away, the mice had found the forgotten box. Its contents had been dumped, walked on and crumbled. Fluffy white popcorn crumbs were strewn across the freshly cleaned carpets and I had to get dinner on the table in an hour.

Thankfully, because I had been cleaning today, the vacuum was handy and the right attachment was in place. Packing popcorn vacuums up quite nicely. The garbages had also been emptied in the cleaning efforts of the last few days and since most of the popcorn had been sucked up by the vacuum there was plenty of room to dispose of the rest appropriately. I would say that a lesson has been thoroughly learned today, but for some reason I just don't think like a kid when I leave something as fascinating as packing popcorn lying around.

Hard Work

Things that are hard:

• Picking out a color to paint the walls of the fellowship hall at church. Said color has to be dark enough to be interesting but light enough not to make people claustrophobic. Said color also has to match dated cabinets that may or may not get refinished.
• Writing about Thanksgiving and suffering when one's own life is really quite grand.
• Scrubbing an old cast iron Dutch oven, bought from a garage sale in support of adoption. Something like this is now on my wish list.
• Getting up with the kids after doing all of the above until past midnight.

Good night!