Sometimes You Just Gotta Role With It

I'm Putting laundry away, he's in the corner near the window sliding into his new Wranglers. He slips a belt around through the loop-holes and clasps the two ends together with a giant belt buckle that he found on the clearance rack at the Big R in town. After he buttons up that red collared shirt and tops it off with his new white cowboy hat, he turns to me and says it...

"So what do ya think?"

Turning my head from a set of dresser drawers, I scan the new him...

And I role my eyes.

"Since when are you a cowboy?"

Him and I, we met when we were twelve. He had bleached blonde hair, spiked up in some kind of expensive hair gel. On most days you could catch him in a pair of board shorts with a skater t-shirt on top. We grew up in a small beach town where surf PE somehow qualified as an academic course. Now, twenty years later, we're standing in our farm house bedroom and I've got a scowl on my face looking at the man that hardly exemplifies the boy I once knew.

No...This man I now see in front of me ignores my sharp attitude and puts that goofy grin on his face that lightens my soul in an instant. I try my hardest to keep my angry smirk, but how can a woman not smile at a man who slides his grease-stained, worn man-hands onto her child-bearing hips and looks straight into her and declares all happy,

"I was always meant to be a cowboy."

Something inside of me think that maybe he really was meant to be a cowboy.

But I'm not always sure what to do out here in the sticks, in our new lives, in this new skin. So last Thursday, I lay it all out on the table to a wise friend and she laughs and slips in those wisdom words,

"Oh honey, sometimes you just gotta role with it."

That same day he calls me from work and says he's gone and got tickets.

Tickets to what?

Why none other than the Pikes Peak Rodeo...

It actually sounds like a blast but so far from the him and I that I've known for the past twenty years.

On the outside he's traded his board shorts for a pair of wranglers and added a little flare to his belt with an enormous belt buckle and I'm still not sure what to think of it all. But The thing is, when you live a life-time with the one you gave you're forever love to, you get the privilege of walking through their stages.

And that's just it... it really is a privilege. To know someone and all the paths they've walked, all the fashion statements they've made, all the mistakes HE'S redeemed them from, all the the people they've lost, and all the dreams they've lived.

To wrap my arms around a man who gives all sides of his love...

In wranglers or not, I have still have these moments in my days when I stand out on the front porch and see him standing out in the field, leaning on one hip, his treasures close by eating ice cream on the driveway.

I see him out there in that hat & those boots... Him and Michael, looking hard into that rocket, piecing it together in hopes that it might fly.

Everyone backs away... and the launch.

We all look high into the sky, our eyes scanning the clouds in search of a tiny speck.

Then it appears. The kids go running.

And my Joey, well it appears that he actually does believe in giving high-fives... (hehe:)

And as we journey through this messy-beautiful life I can't always bank on the way I feel about his hat or his boots, but the one thing I can bank on is what I know to always be true... People are always changing... how boring if we spent all our years staying the same.

And sometimes, the greatest gifts we can give, are to just role with it.

Who knows, when he slips off those boots for the night and hangs his cowboy hat up on the hook in the closet, you might even find that this whole new side of him makes you wanna kiss him in the dark. :)

In Our Love

To My Joey,

You and I, even back then, being innocently molded together.

Eighth grade, everyone needed a partner for the graduation ceremony. It somehow got around the school that I wanted to walk down with you. I was thirteen then, with frizzy hair (damaged from a bad perm experience), pimple-faced, and awkward. You wore pants five-sizes to big and rode your skateboard around campus. You were cool, I was not... but you still said yes to this shy girl, who had to have a friend of a friend even ask you because she was lacking the everyday-kind-of-courage back then.

That day, it's one of my first memories of your kindness. And now it's twenty years later and this heartbeat of mine still gets wrapped up in you, wrapped up in the way you think about others.

But there's something deeper about us now...

It's no longer the flighty butterflies of a timid 8th grade girl. It's now the thing that pushes me, your bride, into wanting to be a better woman.

Those junior high days, we were just kids. Now days, we're pouring our hearts into our own kids.

We've lived a good fifteen years together of letting down our guard around one another, speaking true and sometimes difficult words to one another.

We've learned the art of being joyfully silent around one another.

You've somehow found a way to dissipate my tendency towards irritability simply by not taking it personally, and by being bold enough to tell me gently to buck up and get over it. You're right you know... I waste a lot of my life being bothered by things that don't really matter. Thanks for your courage to lead me into being a better woman.

And with the passing of time, You and I, we've built an unspoken trust and we know we can walk away from one another knowing that it'll only be a few hours before our pride falls and restoration comes. Yes, through these years together there's been pockets of friction, but time itself uses those moments of intense fellowship to strengthen this love... our love.

The way you love on our treasures is a daily gift you give to me. You have an ability to patiently explain things about life to them. You are willing to stay with them when this Mama needs a break. I feel humbled when I hear you pray out loud in front of them thanking the Lord for their Mama. I am way to aware of my failures in Motherhood, and even though I know you see them to, I'm so grateful that you purpose to remind me of my strengths.

And after all these years, we still have so many things that we do not understand about each other, things that might take a life together to fully understand, some are silly, like why you just can't bring yourself to give me a high-five or how no matter how hard I try to mask the flavor, you still don't care for whole wheat pasta.

And maybe right about now you're wondering why I'm writing this letter in the middle of July... Our Anniversary's not till August and neither is your birthday...

But I was sitting in church on Sunday, you were standing tall next to me, a cowboy hat on your head, your worn working hand resting on my bare shoulders... and we were singing,

'Lord,

in my life, be lifted high

in our world, be lifted high

in our love, be lifted high'

And maybe the part that talks about 'our love' is about something totally different than what I was thinking about... but I was thinking about us, you and me. I was thinking about our love, our forever commitment to learning to love one another on the most intimate of levels and I was praying through my tears that our life together would somehow reflect His extravagant love for us to our little world around us.

Because when I think back to that day in the eighth grade when you showed kindness to a nerdy-timid girl, I think about His kindness, and I think about how all the little things add up and display His splendor in our lives...

And I pray that as we live out this life together as husband and wife that we would somehow not get sucked into thinking so much about ourselves, about our own happiness.

Instead, may the way that we live,

the way we walk through our mistakes,

the way we choose to offer one another the same grace and forgiveness that Christ has offered us,

the way we look for the blessings in the small everyday stuff,

make us more holy, not simply just plain happy,

set us apart fully, not allowing us to effortlessly blend in,

and all this, completely for His glory.

In our love... Lord, be lifted high.

#'s 495-510

Worshiping Him together with him on a Sunday morning

Running down a country road, one that leads me home to the farm

Using my birthday machete on tiny snake and becoming a hero to our six-year old boy

Candles burning

Littlest one looking up at me with that stellar smile

Birthdays and little girl giggles

Spring cleaning

Freshly washed sheets

A new pitcher, a gift from Antrhopologie

Day at the salvage yard with sweet, godly women

Thunder storms

Heavy rain

Growing plants

Nights on the porch watching sunsets over the mountains

Our Love, displaying His splendor

Helping Them Gain A Passion For Work

I've been on an organization kick this past week...

Cleaned out the school room, sorted through the kids clothes, threw away broken toys, head-less dolls, and hole-y, spaghetti-stained pants.

The total truth is... with four small kids, my head spins trying to remember and manage, stay consistent and hold accountable.

So I'm trying... Trying to lay it all our for all those under this roof to see in hopes that even though they are small, they might be inspired to take their own initiative. And in the hunt for organized simplicity I've actually found myself having a blast... Corny, I know. Who stays up till midnight making chore charts with goofy graphics?

That would be me! :)

So here they are...

You can create a personalized chore chart for each kiddo under your roof too.

Follow the seven EASY steps.

Pick a theme... They have a lot to choose from but don't get to excited... this mermaid was one of the best options... :)

Come up with an extremely creative title.

Decide on what chores you'd like your little treasures to do.

Print, cut out, take all the charts down to Mardels... (they laminate things for a mere 25 cents a foot. I got six charts that I had made for a BUCK! What a deal! :)

When we got home I explained the charts to the treasures and they were totally on board. They like making check marks once they've accomplished each of their chores. And Reesie was ecstatic about the fact that her chart had a most lovely mermaid displayed across the top.

There are a lot of other, way more sophisticated ideas out there when it comes to helping kids gain a passion for work... but we're a bit simple over in these here parts and have really enjoyed our spiffy new charts.

So there you have it... Chores made easy and fun in the Clark family farmhouse. :)

Brave... Catching A Full View Of Your Glory

It's been coming up often.

I can feel my ears perk up at the onset of seemingly mindless conversations.

We were five sitting on a park bench, childless for an evening. Five women in love with their Jesus and I got the privilege of an evening in friendship with them. The two on the left were lost in their own conversation, but the three on the right, myself in the middle, were getting lost in a randomness of thoughts falling, each one of us popping in and out of the conversation.

We talked of the Dirty Girls Mudder (A girl version of Tough Mudder) coming up in September, we talked of reading scripture in front of church. We talked of brave things that my mouth seems to want to declare that I will never do, but my heart kind of invigorates at the thought of it.

As we throw thoughts out there I hear myself say it, "Sometimes I think I've used my kids as an excuse over the past six years, to stay home, to mask my fear of being brave and call it "just a season."

In the moment I think nothing of it, just continue on in words.

That night I lie there in my bed, wide-eyed, and replaying my own words that I didn't even know were living somewhere inside this skin. My Joey's rhythmically snoring an arms length away and I'm tempted to wake him, to have someone tangible to process with, but I know that he's the type that once asleep, won't remember anything of importance in the morning.

So it's just me and HIM, and we chat back and forth about bravery and seasons.

I don't really know what it is that I'm afraid of...

Granted, I loathe the idea of being covered in mud and start panic-breath in confined spaces, and can't run more than a half mile without feeling like I might just fall over.

Granted I get all flush when I stand up in front of a large group of people and have to actually open my mouth.

But all the same.

Have I not given my all to You Lord, even my fears, knowing that you are trustworthy in all things? (Psalm 46, Jeremiah 39, Philippians 1, 1 Peter 3, 1 John 4, )

If you ask something of me will you not be right there next to me, opening my mouth with the words that You would have me speak? Calming all the muscles in this skin as I walk forward in complete surrender?

At first glance all I can see is what I'm afraid of. But as I take small steps towards those very things that want to keep me paralyzed, I lose sight of myself and catch a full view of Your Glory.

As our days go by, I would love nothing more than for my kids to see their Mama living brave... not so that I might gloat in my own pride, but quite the contrary... that I might bask in the wonder of what You can do in the heart and life of a quiet, scandalous, daughter of Yours, who gazes at the adventure but feels more comfortable hiding behind the daily grind of motherhood and wife-dom.

Draw me out LORD. Lead me.

'God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us.' (Ephesians 3:20)

Work deeply, gently within...

Note To Self This Forth Of July

We did the parade.

We did the church picnic.

We endured the heat.

We shuffled the kids around.

We made it through missed naps and fussy babies.

We ate good food and laughed with good friends.

We lit up sparklers on the driveway with dear neighbors.

But I think that my favorite part of the whole day just might have been in our very own living room.

Me sprawled out on the couch. My Joey lying long on the floor, his head propped up with a pillow. And all four treasures laughing and crawling all around, over us and under us and sometimes taking a breather right on top of us.

With the fan on high, and my hair still wet from a much needed shower, it was definitely the coolest moment in the day. :)

There is something about holidays that gets me all wrapped up in thinking that we have to go, go, go. Something in me convinces that a holiday just wouldn't be a holiday without an overload of memorable activities planned to enjoy.

But the trouble is, with many small children, less just might be more.

As we were driving to meet up with his parents for dinner, My Joey was suggesting that next year we pick one thing, and we build it up, soak it up, and live it up, rather than trying to do everything simply to be able to say that we did it. And even though in that moment I was still stuck in my hopes for the day, I knew he was right.

So this year I am writing a few little notes to myself...

Note to self: When children are small, simplify.

Note to self: Memories are best made when simply spending time together... even it's only on the couch, under the fan, surrounded by vibrant kids and giggles.

Note to self: These years are only the beginning of a life time of memories and family traditions... soak up these years slowly... no need to rush.

Note to self: Even when you over do it, and everyone's crying, and hot, and perpetually thirsty, and soo ready for the comfort and rest of home... Grace still brings joy.

In the midst of the chaos, we had a blast.

You Are My, 'I LOVE YOU!'

To my Skyler Reese on her third birthday...

From one of our favorite reads...

A poem for you...

'I am your parent,

You are my child,

I am your quiet place,

You are my wild.'

'I am your dinner,

you are my chocolate cake,

I am your bedtime,

You are my wide awake.'

'I am your calm face;

you are my giggle.

I am your wait;

you are my wiggle.'

I am your water wings;

you are my deep.

I am your open arms;

you are my running leap.

'I am your finish line,

You are my race;

I am your praying hands,

You are my saying grace.'

I am your lullaby;

you are my peekaboo.

I am your good-night kiss;

you are my I LOVE YOU.

Reesie Piece....

I love you in my life...

the joy you bring...

the way your spunky little heart helps me be bold, brave, and always on my toes...

the way your big brown eyes twinkle when you look straight into me and declare, "I WUV YOU MOM" with your pudgy little arms wrapped tight around my neck.

I love that pouty face that makes me smile, even when I know I should be mad...

Your love for purple, and how brown can be purple on the days when all your real purple clothes are dirty...

The way you cross your arms and lean on your left leg when you talk to me about important matters on your heart.

I love your obsession with Acts 2:25 and the way that you volunteer to recite that verse at every meal, everyday, without fail...

The way you bury your face in your hands when you're trying to act really upset about something...

The way you always talk about growing up, and getting married, and the way you often remind yourself out loud, "Mama says that we no kiss boys until we married." (I'm gonna have to keep a close eye on you little one! :)

I love your love for lovely things,

Your eye for beauty,

Your love of accessories, pearls and hats, purses and such.

You my sweet girl, light up my life and I am forever grateful for every part of you!

Happy Happy 3rd Birthday!!