Why store moments?

Why store moments?

I am a writer, a gatherer of moments. I look for things that inspire, for drops of grace, for moments of beauty around me, so that I can capture them and pass them on.  I see them often in my children. My mind takes a snapshot with a “click,” and I return to it later and paint it with words.

And then I stop and wonder, why store moments?  Why keep my eyes and hands open? What am I collecting memories for?

When I knew my husband was leaving for Iraq, I feasted on every last second we had together. I think I tried to “stock up” on him somehow, as if I could fill myself up with moments to avoid future pain. As if I would miss him less if I just had more of him to keep with me. I feasted on him, and still, he carried my heart with him when he got on that plane.  Moments stored do not lessen future pain.

Also, I’ve been a mama long enough to know that not every moment can be a moment. There won’t be a “moment” every day, or every week for that matter!  Sometimes all I can say is, “well, we got through the day and nobody died” and I stagger through the dirty living room, kick aside the laundry, not even CARE to investigate the weird smell in the kitchen, pick the nerf darts out of my bed, and collapse in exhaustion.

Motherhood is not all moments, but there are some, and they are precious.

My children are fluttering through their days with no thought for gathering, so I gather for them. I collect a few bright spots from their childhoods and save them with the other keepsakes. I’d like them to be able to look back through my eyes and see that they were loved and blessed and cared-for by God. They already know that, but I hope to help them know it even more.  Moments stored may age like wine and bless us later. We will be glad to gaze again on the faded beauty, and we will thank God even for the days of re-living. We will remember and re-thank.

But I don’t really gather moments for later. In picking them up, I savor them right now.

Moments gathered water my soul and help me to love. Living with open hands and open eyes is a way of keeping my antenna tuned to what is important: to God and the people around me. When those precious moments come, free and beautiful, like grace, I drink them in.

And as I drink, I remember:

I remember that the noisy, dirty creatures messing up my house each day are people, beloved by God, wonderful works of His hand.
I remember that I am a child of God—weak, and loved.
I remember that my Father sees me, knows me, cares for me.
I remember that I am here to receive love and to love.

And the grace swallowed down waters my heart and makes it soft and grateful, even when my hands are in the dish water again.

Thank you Jesus, for this moment.

A few recent moments:
- When the little one said his memory verse, "Ceasar Augustus issued a decree over the entire Ramen noodle.."
- Evening church, and it feels like midnight. I stop singing the hymn: the voice behind me is too beautiful. My heart worships louder when I listen in silence, marveling at the miracles God is still doing- in my very own daughter.
- We're listing things we're thankful for, and my littlest baby writes "marriage." This makes my older son squirm and blush, and I am doubly thankful.

revised from post originally hosted at Allume 

5 reasons I love Bible journaling

"Wherever love goes, there the heart and the body follow... 

Love itself will teach meditation... 

It is the mode and nature of all who love to chatter, 

sing, think, compose, and frolic freely 

about what they love and enjoy hearing about it." (Luther)

When God's Word breaks into a heart, things happen. 

Typically, for me, His Words go in, and my words pour out. But not lately.  The angle of the light here is different. I'm busier. I have too much to say, and not so much, and I am just tired. My world is still wonky, and I'm still readjusting after our move to Michigan.

But I've found another way to think and reflect and frolic. It's called Bible Journaling. 

I consider this type of journaling as a form of meditation: sloppy, imperfect, playing-with-paint prayer time.  And I do it with my kids. It has become, for me, another way to steep in Sundays.

5 reasons I love Bible Journaling

Meditation, but with paint
Bible Journaling is a way of dwelling on the Most Important Thing: Jesus

"Blessed are those who hear the Word and keep it." Luke 11:28

It is easy to hear only law in this passage.  As if Jesus were saying, obey, obey, OBEY you sinner, otherwise you have no part with me.  But He --the one who came not to abolish the law but to fulfill it-- gives this Word and all of His Words to us as a gift.

Keep my Word, my child. Treasure it. Carry it with you.  Receive from it life and hope and health.  Make your home in it.  Steep in it.  Let it color your world.  Let it remake your heart.

Chew on it. Think about it. Write, sing, or paint about it. Plaster it everywhere.

Memory Keeping

Once, God held me up with the perfect Word, the exact balm I needed for my particular ache. No, it was more than once, in fact, it happens so often that I can't remember every time.  I wish I could.  Remembering His faithfulness is good for the soul. Bible journaling can be a way for us to catch those moments of grace, and it will help us remember to remember them.

Discernment Practice

Yes, I've seen this practice abused. I've seen entire pages covered dark except the one verse, writ large, which taken out of context means something other than it really means. Musicians and writers do this all the time. Always, the Christian must pay attention, ask good questions, and remember context when handling God's Word. We cannot hide from the need to discern.  This practice has led to good conversations with my own children about the proper use of Scripture. 

Conversation
Combining creativity and Scripture, with others in the room, leads to some amazing conversation.  Instead of merely discussing brush techniques and ink quality (but we do that too, of course,) we also discuss particular Scriptures, and how God's Word has shined light right into our lives in unique ways.

Sharing the treasure

Illustrating and rewriting the precious words given to us naturally leads to sharing with others. "He withholds no good thing," I am told, and I needed to hear that.  I can think of others who might be uplifted by those words, too.  So, we make a copy. Write it on a note card. Pass it on. 

If you are interested in this, there are a million resources for the details, and I am only just learning them. Google "Bible journaling" or "Illustrated faith."  The Bible I use is an ESV with nice margins. Apparently this is quite a craze these days, so you may have to wait for it if you order one. If you're dying to start frolicking with paint and Scripture, just grab a piece of paper or a blank notebook and whatever supplies you have on hand.  Keep the Word of God, dwell on it, and let it spill out in pictures!

And now, here's a look into our Bible.

Inside the front cover: 

In the beginning, when I write a bit about priorities, respect, and grace.

My first entry. 

Those who sow in tears

    shall reap with shouts of joy!

6 

He who goes out weeping,

    bearing the seed for sowing,

shall come home with shouts of joy,

    bringing his sheaves with him. (Psalm 126: 5-6)

An illustration from my daughter:

Response to the Good friday service:

A quick sketch:

Come, Lord Jesus... make all things new...

A nice verse. But I am not quite "adult" enough for black ink. 

Oh well, I guess the fingerprints are a memory too!

In memory of our Indiana home, and the church family there that has left a forever mark on our hearts. This was their theme verse for their 175th anniversary, celebrated last year.  The picture was inspired from a much more beautiful quilted church banner, made specially for the celebration.

Grandma's house

The house was torn down last week, and I didn’t even know it was coming. Not that it matters, really. Grandma and Grandpa have been gone for years now.

Yet it is strange to have a place in my memory with such vivd colors that no longer exists. That land will now support condominiums, not rose bushes and little girls running barefoot and drinking from the hose. I remember the delicious plastic flavor of the first sips from a hot hose.

It’s odd: the fragrance of roses makes me want to eat raspberries, because they grew near each other in her yard. I would pick an enormous bowl of berries, then eat them all, staining my fingers and mouth red.  I do not recall sharing them, ever.

I remember how mom would walk around the yard with her mom, to see the flowers growing, commenting on the lovely blooms while holding her arm to keep her steady. And writing this makes me realize that I have not made much time for flower-viewing walks in my mom’s yard. I’d better make time for that, before they, too, are buried by condominiums.

I remember hiding in grandma’s shoe closet, and sliding down the banister. Did my mom actually let me do that, or did I sneak? I cannot recall, but there are no guilty feelings mixed with that memory.

Grandma always had parakeets, and I loved watching them, hearing them sing.

I remember being half-asleep, being carried down the cement steps and into the car, on the nights grandma would watch me, when my mom worked late.

I do not remember much of my grandfather. Our lives intersected only briefly. He died when I was two.  I can picture him in the kitchen, and almost hear is voice. And I remember my mom hugging my dad in our kitchen when he died. But that is all.

I remember the soft, cool skin of grandma’s arms around me, sitting on her lap in an aluminum chair on the back patio. I was a distracted teenager when she faced her final illness. I wish I would have spent more time in those arms.

But it is good to go back to her house in my memory. It is good to try to recall myself as a child, to remember what it was like when life was about playing and eating snacks and riding my big wheel. It wasn’t perfect, of course, and as I look back with my big-girl eyes on my little girl days, the memories are filled with love, and longing, and an occassional whiff of cigarette smoke.

I think I’ll plant my own flowers this year.

——————————————

“Show me, Lord, my life’s end

    and the number of my days;

    let me know how fleeting my life is.

You have made my days a mere handbreadth;

    the span of my years is as nothing before you.

Everyone is but a breath,

    even those who seem secure.

“Surely everyone goes around like a mere phantom;

    in vain they rush about, heaping up wealth

    without knowing whose it will finally be.

“But now, Lord, what do I look for?

    My hope is in you.

Psalm 39

--------------------------------------------

Do you remember your grandparents’ home?

What was it like? Where is it now?

For my family: more memories in the comments.

Will you leave me a few of your own, pretty please?

chair photo credit: ebay 

When we rest in Him even in the midst of danger.

A snippet from My Gilead- a memory keeping file for my children.

7/14/11

Eldon, what a sweet moment we shared tonight.  We laid on the dock at sunset watching the birds.  I sighed, “This is nice,” and you echoed, “Niiiiice.”  You sucked your fingers and we pointed out the birds.  You wore your little Spiderman pj pants and no shirt, and cuddled up to me in the cool of the evening.  You tried to dangle your feet off the dock but couldn't reach, so you almost fell in, and we both laughed.  And you looked at me with your sweet smile and said “Hey mama! Love you!” and gave me a kiss.    

What a great way to end the day.

How many are your thoughts towards me, O Lord?  If I could number them, they would be more than the sands….  And many are my thoughts towards you, children.  

And to think, God’s thoughts are are more, better, purer.  Towards you, towards me.  It is a comfort.

You children are so young, you are given so many things to delight in with innocence.  You do not see the shadows I see, the dangers lurking.  That's OK.  It is my job to notice the dangers and protect you when I can.  Yet, I miss that innocence.  I had it too, as a child, before I understood that people drown in lakes and the bodies of children can be broken.  I never used to fear, but now I fear.  

Yet fear leads me to cling to God (where else can we go?), and I have prayed a million prayers for your safety.  The danger is ever-present, but God will remove all of that someday.  

How pleasant it will be when he makes all things new.  Perhaps He will allow us to swim and play together, and there will be no shadow of death to taunt us.  I’m not sure what I will do, how I will act, if I can run along a dock and not guard the edges, not brace for jumping and saving one of your precious bodies.  It is good, that God will me making me new too.  I look forward to the version of myself without anxiety.  I hope you can recognize her.

Family-Focused Art: Birthday Letters

I love when I can be a writer and a mother at the very same time.  One of my favorite ways to do this:

Birthday Letters.

I am a terrible scrap-booker, but I love to use my words. 

I think only the first TWO of my children actually have baby books! I know that's terrible, but I have all the pictures... it's just a matter of gathering them. And cutting them. And pasting them. (Ugh.) Not going to happen any time soon, sorry kiddos.

I keep snapshots of their childhood for them in my own way. Pictures, of course, but also birthday letters.  When I write I try to capture the unique things about each child on that very day.  I often add favorite memories of the previous year, prayers, or major milestones. But I have to keep it simple (or I won't do it.) So I mostly just try to capture who they are on this day.

July 4th with Kids: Check Your Expectations

Watching the fireworks with children: it sounds like a good idea, doesn't it?

It is a good idea,and it makes a beautiful memory...

of sorts.

I'd like you to experience the fireworks with my family.

Just for fun, read this post twice for two very different experiences.

#1 the Ideal Experience

Read the words only in bold, and enjoy the beautiful pictures. Wonderful, isn't it?

#2 The Real Deal

Now browse the posts again and read the actual kid commentary.

This is what it is like, with the audio track!

(I wish I could include the pokes and prods and climbing on and off my lap too, but you'll have to imagine that part.)

A boy and his boat

waiting for the big show

How was summer camp?

They want to remember ever detail, but soon they will be on to the next thing.

Mother, help your child remember summer camp!

Take time to listen, and make a memory!

Get the questions here

How was summer camp?

1.       What did you normally do first thing in the morning? When did you wake up?

2.      What did you do after breakfast?

3.      Tell me your favorite foods at camp. Was there anything you didn’t like?

4.      Tell me three things about your counselor.

5.      What did you do in the afternoons?

6.      Tell me about some of the games you played.

7.      Did you do anything at camp that you have NEVER done before? How did it go?

8.     Who did you sit with at mealtimes?

9.      Tell me about at least one new friend you made.

10.  Did you grow closer to any of your other friends?

11.   What did you do after dinner?

12.  Did you have any snacks?

13.  Tell me something you learned about God.

14.  What did you do during rest time?

15.   Did you read or write anything this week?

16.  Were you ever scared at night?

17.   Did the kids in your cabin get along well?

18.  Who were your three favorite staff people?

19.  Tell me three of your favorite camp songs.

20. Did you get any mail or email from anyone? What did they say?

21.  Tell me a funny story.

22. Did anything sad happen? Did you or anyone else get homesick or injured?

23. Did you pack everything you needed?

24. Tell me about another new friend you made this week.

25.  What was campfire like?

26. Tell me something else you learned during camp devotions.

27.  Did you ever stay up talking after lights out?

28. If you go to camp again, what do you want to do again next year?

29. Is there anything you don’t want to do again next year?

30.  Tell me the absolute best thing about camp this year.

Thank you God for giving me a great week at camp! Thank you for the counselors and staff who worked together to make everything happen, and for all the people who give money to the camp ministry.  Thank you for the time I got to spend in Your creation, meeting new friends and having fun with old friends. Thank you for all the things I learned from Your Word, and most of all, thank you for the gift of your son Jesus. Amen

Interview your child at the end of the school year *UPDATED

It seems like only yesterday...

first day of school, 2009

At the end of my daughter's first year of kindergarten, I was ready to celebrate. I was proud of her, and I was proud of me for making it through my baby's first year of school. I was excited to have her home. 

I greeted her that last day of school with special treats, made by her brothers and sisters. I had saved some of her special artwork and papers, and I put together in a scrapbook for her. We looked through it together on the couch and talked about the year.  It was wonderful.

I have three kids coming home from their last day of school tomorrow. (Finishing kindergarten, first grade, and third grade.)

Would you like to see my scrapbooks this year?

Gilead: Book: Recommended and Project: Inspired

Book, recommended.

I read this during vacation.  It is a great book for savoring, a beautifully written story told from the perspective of an old pastor preparing to die, writing a letter to his very young son.  If you are looking for a thoughtful piece of fiction to read, try this one.

A small piece: 

“I wish I could leave you certain images in my mind, because they are so beautiful that I hate to think they will be extinguished when I am. …It is a strange thing, after all, to be able to return to a moment, when it can hardly be said to have any reality at all, even in its passing.  A moment is such a slight thing, I mean, that its abiding is a most gracious reprieve.” p.162

Project, inspired

I am captivated by the premise of this book: An old father, gathering moments for his son so that when he is gone, he can see the world through his father's eyes and know that he was loved.


Moments come and go so quickly, so few are caught and treasured.
Which are most precious? Most important?
Sometimes I see every-day moments that are breath-taking and spectacular.  I want to store them up and show them to my children, later, when they are old enough to understand.

I have started a journal for this purpose.
I call it "My Gilead," and it is addressed to all of my children (in contrast to the birthday letters which are individualized.)  There are no rules. No schedules. I write in it whenever the mood strikes me.

The click of a camera and the chatter of the keyboard: these are the sounds of me gathering treasures for my children.

May the pictures and words I save up for them help them to see the grace I see, and re-rejoice.