If You're Wondering What Real Love Might Look Like

Marriage has rarely looked the way I saw it on that screen back in 1995.

I was seventeen and trying to figure out love.

Trying to know just what it looked like, if it was healthy, how it should feel. And what I saw through the window of the world nearly twenty years ago had gotten me all wrapped up in none other than self.

I left for church in a fluster this past Sunday.

I had tried to sneak out the front door without any explanation, but the Cowboy knows me better than that, and he stopped me in my stone cold tracks... asked what was bothering me.

I spilled out a whole flurry of words, totally sure (now anyways) that I didn't even mean a single one of them.

Him sick with some sort of stomach bug and me tired beyond repair we stood there in the kitchen. My mind managed to recall little annoyances from all our years together and my mouth just flowed like river, a rush of things that were hardly the real issue just falling out all over the floor.

Then I left.

The moment hardly looked like the constant tender touch that I want our love to be... far from the picture of continual bliss that I picked up as expectation from those romantic comedies I used to watch back in those teen years.

The whole ride to church I thought above love. Thought about how my attitude and my words can and do so often cause a schism between me and the ones that I love most.

Thought about Christ and how He said He loved me. His is a love stained blood red, stung right down to the bone with rusty old nails, topped with a piercing crown of thorns.

Thought about how His love cost. Not at a small price, but in His laying down of everything... everything.

When I walked in the door after church and tried to slip quietly into just doing the dishes, The Cowboy came up behind me and laid that man-hand that I love on my still-prideful shoulder.

I knew I needed to let down that pride of mine, but how? It never ceases to amaze me how even the tiniest bit of willingness, can open the floodgates to freedom.

The Cowboy and I, we say it to one another almost simultaneously... "I'm sorry."

Humility... it stings quick, but it heals deep. I think the world forgot to tell me that humility would grow deep roots in my marriage.

The afternoon comes and our first born and I take a walk down the long, dirt, back road near our home. He rides his bike and I walk alone in thought and in a trail of his dust.

"Love is patient, love is kind..."

It comes to me as my boy and I travel down that dirt road.

And I can't remember it all while I'm walking so after the kids are in bed and the house is quiet, I crawl up under the covers in our room and I open The Book, and that's when I see it.

See, how love is nearly always an action, and rarely ever a feeling. But this world and my heart, we're trained to find love in the feeling. And if the feeling's not there, we often give ourselves permission to run the other way.

But love, His love, calls us to rest in what we know to be true, and not in what we feel.

I should have known when I read that very first line...

'Love is patient.'

The root is "patir," a word that actually means "to suffer."

Who would have thought that the very first word used to describe real, God-love, is the word that means suffering. Or maybe it's no surprise at all when we think of Christ and His love...

"Love will endure a long time. It is the heart shown in God, when it is said of the Lord, The Lord is not slack concerning His promise, as some count slackness, but is longsuffering toward us, not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance (2 Peter 3:9). If God’s love is in us, we will be longsuffering to those who annoy us and hurt us."

And then He goes on into more action words...

"Love is kind,

It is NOT,

Jealous or

Boastful or

Proud or

Rude.

It does NOT

demand it's own way.

It is NOT irritable,

And

It keeps NO record of being wronged."

This list that He gives... it's so rich.

It's deep enough to take us through a life-time. And in so many ways it is so contrary to what I sometimes feel.

Love is a choice. Always a choice.

It's a choice to choose others above self.

'Love is never satisfied but in the welfare, comfort, and salvation of all. That man is no Christian who is solicitous for his own happiness alone; and cares not how the world goes, so that himself be comfortable.'

It's a choice to not be irritable.

'When the man who possesses this love gives way to provocation, he loses the balance of his soul, and grieves the Spirit of God. . . surely if he get embittered against his neighbour, he does not love him as himself.'

It's a choice to keep no record of wrong.

'Literally, this means “love does not store up the memory of any wrong it has received.” Love will put away the hurts of the past instead of clinging to them.'

It had been a long day.

I did not choose love in moments of that day.

But that's the gift in marriage.

The Cowboy and I, our marriage...

It's this incredibly beautiful masterpiece of time and grace and hope... all mixed in with the pain and sting of the refining. Because it's in the refining that the richness, the depth, of our relationship, can begin to overflow and splash out true, Christ-love onto those around us. It's in the refining that we can begin to shine for His glory.

I drift off with The Book still open on my lap and the Cowboy slips in and kisses my forehead soft. He turns off the light and closes the door.

"Love Never

Gives up,

Never

Looses faith,

Is always

Hopeful,

And

Endures

Through

E_V_E_R_Y

circumstance."

The etching is often times painful.

But on a Sunday in late November,

Love grew a little and etched itself, humble, solid, and forever, up under the very One who call Himself Love.

Thanksgiving

I have great children.

We were on vacation visiting Great Grandma, and the three oldest woke up on a Thursday, got themselves some breakfast, made their hotel beds, got themselves dressed, and put all their dirty clothes in the corner of the closet like I asked them to do the first day that we arrived.

I need to remember these things when all four have decided to play a rather LOUD game of tag in that same quaint condo on that same lovely afternoon.

It's Thanksgiving.

It's a week where families sit around and chat about gratitude and how we're all thankful for things like food, family and shelter... All things which I truly am grateful for.

But this week while we ate turkey around Great Grandma's beautifully decorated table...

While all the cousins were singing to Grandma their Turkey Day song...

While the spunky-girl showed me her "Dora-pizza" that she had made with the pumpkin spice play-dough that Aunt Kristin had brought for the kids all the way from her California cottage,

I thought about how gratitude has changed things in me this year. How the learning of deeply rooted gratitude really only comes like most things truly known... it comes with much practice... and it doesn't always come easy.

And when it was my turn at Great Grandma's beautifully decorated Thanksgiving table to share just what it is that I'm grateful for, I couldn't find the courage to share the real details of my heart, for fear that tears might take over the table... and besides that, I feel much more comfortable writing my heart than speaking it.

This past year has been a year of counting for me. Counting graces, gifts, treasures in the everyday. And as I looked around the table at family, my heart smiled. There were only six of us adults. And truth be told, I rarely actually see these people in person. (I think it just might have been a whole two years since I last saw my older brother and my sweet niece and nephew. And we haven't had a holiday at my Grandma's house since the year that my Mom passed away.)

But there's something about each one of them that I really cherish.

There are always good memories to rehash on the rare occasion that we're all together. And those were the things that I had wished I had the courage to say around the table on Thanksgiving Day.

I remember long conversations on my Grandma's back porch. The time she flew me to her house and spoiled me for a weekend after we had lost our boys. That chopper you bought me Grandma, renewed our relationship and brought my kitchen life to a whole new level of great! Hehe. :)

I'm thankful for the silly stuff, like the countless bags of hand-me-downs that my sweet sister-in-law has so generously passed down to my treasures. And for the heart stuff, like the box you made that holds all the memories of our first two boys. And for the big stuff, like the way you show me Christ in the way that you love on your treasures. Thankful for the years you've loved on and supported my brother through the countless adventures that the two of you have been on. Thankful that you're my sister.

I'm thankful for my brother and how although our conversations are far and few between, when we do get a chance to catch up it's always about the good stuff, the heart stuff, the God stuff.

And Robby, he's been in my life for as long as I can remember. I'm thankful for the way he really does care for my Grandma. Thankful that they have each other. Thankful that he shared what he was thankful for around the Thanksgiving table. :)

My Joey sat next to me at that table. And there's no way that I could tell him in front of all those people how I really feel about him. How grateful I am that we get to go through this life together. How grateful I am that we grow together through the hard stuff. How grateful I am that he is simply mine.

I was so grateful that the Cowboy worked it out for us to go to my Grandma's house and found us a sweet little place to stay for our week in Las Vegas.

I was grateful for the funny things the treasures said, things I always want to remember.

How the spunky girl started sniffing in the back seat...

"I smell something." she said as she kept on sniffing.

"I fink Papa must have farted or sumping."

Hilarious that child is.

Or how about when we were driving down the Las Vegas strip and she just kept repeating (pretty much to herself),

"Oh my goodness... I just can't believe this. This is just so amazing. I just can't believe this."

****************

Thanksgiving Day was quite lovely this year indeed.

But what I'm most grateful for, is that gratitude can bring light to my eyes and joy to my heart, any day of the year... not just on that one day in late November when I'm supposed to be grateful. :)

Happy Thanksgiving, today and everyday! :)

(And could you believe that I forgot to take my camera this week??? Maybe I can add some later from aunt Kristin's camera. :)

Real

They go through these phases.

The dancing girl recently started leaning in and whispering secrets. Currently most conversations are whispered into my Mama ears... and it tickles. :)

The spunky girl is convinced that she always has an idea that just might be one up from the instruction that I just gave her.

The littlest boy, the charmer, throws me that captivating smile while flaunting his marker-covered forehead, holding up the bright pink culprit in his pudgy little hand.

And then my Siah, well he wants to know what's real. Consistently constant. This boy of mine is always in wonder.

"Mom, are the people in this book real?"

"Mom, is the golden gate bridge real?"

"What about Sleeping Beauty? Real?"

"The people on the radio? Real?"

"The starving kids? Real?"

"Our Bible stories? Real?"

"Jesus? Real?"

All day long, he's trying to figure out this thing called REAL.

And he not only wants to know what, but how?

How do we know? And can we really know? Can we really know and still rest in an element of mystery? Or, can we only really know what we can fully explain?

I think about his consistently constant questions.

I think about the Lord and all the things that I don't understand.

I think about the season that I watched my own Mama. That first hour after she told me. I can still feel the steam, and the way my skin felt, as I wept deeply in the shower. A conversation with my Jesus, a conversation that surprised me and changed me for all time and for His glory.

How do we know that the things we can't always explain are really the realest of all real?

The confidence comes in the most humble of circumstances.

It comes when I'm standing alone in a shower, a heart dripping in utter brokenness. And there in my own darkest moment, He gives me His eyes, and enables me to see... To see what it is that He sees.

Because when I wanted to ask "why", when I wanted to know more than anything that He was willing, that He was able, that He was REAL, He did the most unlikely of things and lead to me to the most unexpected answers.

Is there anyone around who can explain God?

Anyone smart enough to tell Him what to do?

Anyone who has done Him such a huge favor that

God has to ask his advice?

Everything comes from Him;

Everything happens through Him;

Everything ends up in Him.

Always glory! Always Praise!

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Romans 11:33-36

He doesn't tell me why but He tells me that He is trustworthy.

And how can one watch her own Mama slip away and simultaneously find a place to rest her heart?

He is real.

He is real.

And isn't it true that we only really know what no man can take away from us?

We only really know what we've seen with our eyes, what we've known in our hearts, what has changed us so deeply in the marrow of our bones.

And if the eyes on our heads haven't seen it, the eyes of our hearts surely have.

My eyes have not yet seen the wind, Oh, but my skin has surely felt it... and knows it to be true.

I stood there in that shower and I found clarity in the blur of a fast-moving river of tears.

He-is-trustworthy. HE-IS-TRUSTWORTHY.

I can say it with confidence because I've seen the work of His hands with my very own eyes.

And He is real.

I know this to be true...

Because countless times He's shown up and brought me into Himself.

Because He took the loss of my Mama and showed me His glory.

Because He took my boys home and strengthened the heart strings of my marriage.

Because He showed up in the jungles of Costa Rica when I thought I just might die from virus and He showed me Himself and this seemingly contradicting truth that there really is a way to consider it pure joy when you face trials of many kinds. (james 1:2)

Because despite myself, He's growing me up daily under this farmhouse roof, with this Cowboy, and these many small treasures, and He's giving me insight into how to daily love on them and live for His glory.

It doesn't always make a whole lot of sense but despite the extent of my understanding (or lack there-of), He-is-trustworthy.

****************

And this morning when my Siah asked me if the Jesus that we read about in that little blue book each morning, was real...

I told him yes...

And then he asked, " But how do you know?"

And all I could think to do, was to encourage him to find out for himself.

"Sweet boy of mine, Ask Him."

"Ask Him what, Mom?"

"Ask Him to make Himself real to you.

He can and He will.

And that's how you'll know.

Because you can't deny what your eyes have seen and what your heart has experienced. Mama can tell you all day long that He's real, but what you really need to know, is that He's made himself real to you personally."

There is a mystery about God. A mystery that makes Him the one and only true God. But He is gracious enough to show Himself to us. Show us in such a way that no matter who wants to refute, there is no denying what His mighty hands have done in our souls, in our very lives. :)

He is real.

He is the realest of all things real.

Another Round

I spent the first few years of the treasures lives going to the library and randomly picking stuff off the shelf hoping for something good to read... and most of the time I came up short with some pretty lame books.

But when I started home schooling Siah last year I knew I needed a new plan. When I got online and started looking for good books I felt seriously overwhelmed. But once I stumbled across a few blogs of some women that I've grown a great respect for over the past few years, one link led to another and I am now finding an abundance of quality literature to read throughout these sweet young years with my kids.

Under this farmhouse roof we attempt to read an hour and half each day. It sounds like a lot but spread out amongst the hours, the time flies... and some days we even find that we have gotten so lost in a story, that time itself has also been lost.

Here is another round of great books that we have found ourselves reading over and over again around here. Maybe some of them might become favorites in your home as well?? :)

A very creative, fun way to teach little ones about big powerful words... Words that they will most certainly need for a life of love towards others. We have read this book at least once a week for nearly three years now. It's a keeper. :)

A truly wonderful book that makes this Mama cry EVERY TIME without fail! The story of a girl, her Mama, and her Grandmother who lost everything in a fire. And together they save their spare coins in a jar in hopes that one day they might be able to get a comfy chair... a place where the little girl's hard working Mama can put her feet up at night. You will LOVE this book!!!!!

This book along with all the other books in this series are all stories that you will love reading with your treasures. This story is about friends who help friends in time of need. The whole series is packed with values and character traits that I'm sure any Mama would love for her little ones to inherit. :) You'll love all the books in this series.

Siah LOVES this book. It's a sweet, rhythmic banter between a dad (or grandpa) and a spunky little girl who brings out the best in him. This would be a great gift for dads and grandpas from a daughter or granddaughter. :) Soak this one up, it's good!

This little book is just how I feel about my spunky little Reesie. Her and I just might be polar opposites and truly she challenges me and encourages me to brave and light-hearted. The little one in this book is full of life and adventure and joy while the parent in this book is full of stability and grace. They both offer one another the best things in life. Love this book.

Most of y'all know how I feel about animals... not my favorite. But this book is all about bats and birds who discover that their differences don't have to come in between their friendships.... That our embracing and actually loving one another's differences help us to be the best us we can be. And would you believe that my eyes got all watery when the Mama bat got attacked by an owl and lost her sweet little Stellaluna?? Weird, I know. :) But truly, this is one great book. :)

A fun little story about a fox who tries to act like a duck, but gets out smarted by a Mama who "really always knew THAT WAS NO DUCK!" Creative, adventuresome, creative and delightful. All FOUR treasures soak up this book. :)

This series is full of character and humor as a odd-looking, odd-acting penguin named tacky teaches the other birds that he lives with whose names are "Goodly, Lovely, Angel, Neatly & Perfect, that although he might be an odd bird, he's a great bird to have around. :) You'll love any and all the books in this series. :) And finally...

The Berenstain Bears anything really. These books are AWESOME. Not only do my kids love them but they are packed with character qualities that I love my treasures picking up on. You can't go wrong with this series. I love watching my kids pretend play the Berenstain Bears. The way that the bear cubs talk to their parents, the way they treat their friends, the way that they solve problems and learn life lessons are all things that I love seeing my treasures exemplify. And not to mention that I've picked up on a few of my best parenting tips from Mama Bear herself... seriously I have. :)

Here are a few links to some of the best book lists I have found as well...

1000 Great Books List

Classic Kids Books

Maybe there's a few humble ideas for Christmas here? What better way to bless little ones than to give them the gift of great books?

Enjoy... :)

Growing Up

LAst night was the kids first music concert.

One day a week they take music, art, PE, spanish, and a writing/grammar class at this lovely little Charter school in town.

The school has a program that works with homeschool families to enrich what is already being done at home. I'm so thankful for what this school has provided for our treasures.

Really for us, the school allows us to have the best of both worlds; we get to live out the day to day beautiful, messy, life of family as we homeschool, but the kids also get an opportunity to be with friends and learn from others in a classroom environment.

So last night we bundled up the troops and headed to the school.

The dancing girl was beside herself excited. Nearly every hour, all day long, she would ask me what time it was, knowing that we were leaving at 6 for the concert. :)

Don't they look so grown up?

And the Cowboy helped a Mama out and made his treasures laugh...

Wondering what the dancing girl's pointing at???

Well, that just might remain the Cowboy's secret weapon to making his treasures laugh till they get belly-aches... I'm not sure if it's an appropriate thing to disclose on a family blog such as this... but I'm sure that if you've known the Cowboy for any stint of time, you can use your imagination and figure it out pretty quick. :) The concerned look on the littlest boy just might lead to some insight... Hehe. :)

And once the little guy figured out just how funny his Papa really was...

Well,

He joined right in the laughter... :)

After a lovely photo shoot with the fam and we were off....

The show was short and sweet and the Cowboy and I were stoked on our treasures!!! Especially with the dancing girl... she has a few shy bones in that petite body of hers and she got up on that stage and sang her heart out!! Way to go little love! :)

What To Do When God Sends A Storm

So I'm married to the Cowboy, right?

And Cowboy's enjoy themselves a beer every once in awhile, right?

Well, it appears that their sons do too...

every once in awhile...

I guess...

*******************

That littlest boy...

Why do I even act surprised any more?

I'm in the school room on a Monday morning talking to the big brother about adding numbers and I look up, and there he is.

The little guy, sitting on the floor, guzzling down whatever might have been left of Papa's beverage from the night before. He's covered in beer and grinning from ear to ear. I'm pretty sure he's gotten more on his shirt than in his mouth but I run over and take the can from him anyways.

And he gets mad.

He grabs his shirt and starts sucking the beer right out of his shirt.

"BEER IS NOT OK FOR BABIES!

NOT EVEN OCCASIONALLY!"

I tell him firmly while I unbutton his saturated plaid.

And he...

He becomes a big ball of tears on the floor.

Why is this happening to me?

I'm in control.

I run an orderly ship around here.

I have fairly mellow children who know how to keep their hands to themselves.

But this child.

This child.

Where did this child come from?

Look at that face. That sweet sweet face that keeps me in the place where I am my absolute best me...

He keeps me where I'm the me on my knees.

How to love, and not choose anger?

How to laugh, and not choose tears?

What does a Mama do when God sets a tornado right smack in the middle of the living room and gives him permission to just run a muck?

You look right into that strong, angelic face and say it out loud until it sinks into the deepest pits of your very being...

Acceptance with joy.

ACCEPT-ance WITH JOY!

Come near to God, and He will come near to you.

And there I am on my knees, the posture that suits me best.

He's there. There with me on the living room floor, with the little boy and the can of beer and this heart of mine that can't decide whether or not it wants to laugh or cry.

And He whispers it with a tender chuckle, "I send the storms, only that you might see My face, and believe that I Am ALL that you will ever need. "

I soak up what He gives, for All that He gives is good.

Good,

even in the eye of the storm.

I sweep up that bundle of boy. Slide my fingers down his teary cheek, and softly and slowly explain what seems so obvious,

"Beer, my dear, is not for babies."

He wails for awhile longer and I regain my strength on my knees.

Together we grow up in this place.

And like the dancing girl always says...

"At least he's stinkin cute Mom." :)

To which I reply...

"Yes love,

At least he's stinkin cute." :)

The Tornado Strikes Again

Tonight we took a meal to a pregnant friend who isn't all that up for cooking...

And us...

We had cereal.

The kids cheered. And I smiled. (So it's cereal that gets the treasures to clap and giggle? :)

Dinner was over and the dancing girl went to empty the dishwasher.

My Siah was tying up one very full bag of garbage, when he looks over at the dishwasher.

His eyes get all big and his mouth drops open and he says it,

" Oh-my-goodness-Mom... The Tornado has struck again!!!"

I turn around and stare.

The entire inside of the dishwasher is HOT PINK!

What in the world? How? What?

I take a closer look.

And then I remember.

Remember how the littlest boy was "helping me" with the dishes just a few hours earlier... I put them in, he takes them out...

I remember how he had that metal spoon in one hand and a lovely pink crayon in the other.

I pull out the bottom rack and find the saturated pink paper wrapper in the silverware basket.

It's quiet and the kids are looking right up at me waiting to see just how I might react.

My eyes catch theirs...

And I just burst into laughter.

They laugh to. And they can't seem to stop.

We all laugh deep in our insides.

Cuz what else can you do, when the Tornado strikes again, and dyes your dishwasher a shade of lipstick pink that your Mom might have worn in 1985?

So I apologize ahead of time... If I bring you a meal, well, it just might be in some hot pink tupperware. :)

Jedediah Cyrus Clark (Also known under this farmhouse roof as The Tornado)

Treasure Joy {And One Magical Tent}

I never thought I'd find myself saying this, but there is deifinitely something magical about waking up to a blanket of snow outside one's windows. Something childlike, innocent, and captivating about the treasures discovering a winter wonderland just footsteps beyond their own front porch. Those smiles. That snow coming down and those curious eyes looking up...

So we made the most lovely tent, gathered the pillows and picked out the best books.

The dancing girl has needed a bit of encouragement in the fine motor department.

She's spent days cutting out stars, lots and lots of stars. We hung some in our tent.

Then we all climbed in and read for hours.

***********************************

The spunky girl drew a picture of me today...

"Look Mom, don't you look so beautiful???"

"Wow! I look gorgeous!" :)

*********************************

And this squishy-cuteness....

HE"S WALKING!!!!!!

Wanna see??? :)

Ok, you just can't get much cuter than that!

These kids bless me.

Sometimes though, I get wrapped up in my lame desire to have perfectly behaved children who do whatever I say, whenever I say it, with a happy joyful heart.

(And I can picture the grown up Mama's reading this blog, just chuckling at my zealous aspirations, because I know that time has probably taught them the way to let go, the way to not stress in the details... but this Mama's not there yet. :)

And I forget to say thanks.

Thank you to the One who made them.

Thank you to the One who shared them with me and the Cowboy.

Thank you for the magical-tent days.

Thank you for the snow-sprinkled-face days.

Thank you for the three-year-old-drawing-Mama's-portrait days.

Thank for the littlest lad and the way he toddles himself into adventure, these days.

Lord, help me to take great joy in all that is going on under this farm house roof with these many small children, and the handsome cowboy, the five that I get to call my own.