Happy Birthday, Mom!

Reduced

I was standing at the stove, boiling ramen noodles as I listened to the heated debate starting to simmer between the two preschoolers. I knew I was moments from needing the intervene and pass a fair judgement on the dispute. Meanwhile, the toddler, hearing the start of something interesting, interjected himself right into the middle of the fray, extracing loud screams from both sibilings who prefer that he leave them alone while they play/argue/debate. Screaming. Ramen. I forgot if I'd even had a shower yet that day. The thought came into my head with crystal-like clairty.

"My life has been reduced to this?!?!"

Then almost as quickly as the conflict was resolved by my referee calls and separation, that little voice, the one that pulls you back to a place of grace, said, "What is reduced?"

My thoughts went immediately to cooking. I watched the ramen bubble. To reduce something, especially over intense heat is "to decrease the volume and concentrate the flavor of by boiling." Has my life been reduced? Most certainly. It doesn't have the excess volume of self-centered luxuries. It's not filled with useless relationships. It doesn't have time or space for empty, hopeless investments. Each moment is full of concetrated joy, work, value, and eternity. Life is not what I thought it would be 12 years ago. It's much smaller, but so, so much more sweet.

Ah, well

Wire = (n) 1 a : metal in the form of a usually very flexible thread or slender rod

Molding = (n) a decorative plane or curved strip used for ornamentation or finishing

Support = (v) 4 a : to hold up or serve as a foundation or prop for

Lift = (n) 10 : an apparatus or machine used for hoisting

My dad's a contractor. Used to understand all of these terms in the context of construction, especially as they pertain to highrises and skyscrapers.

Now they are all terms that are used to describe my bras.

They put the force in "F5"

April showers

The first picture was taken March 16th.

The second was taken April 11th.

Thank you

Dear Jesus,

Thank you for a warm, sturdy home that keeps my family safe and warm when April snows and winds hit.

Thank you that my power lines are underground and that we don't lose power for long.

Thank you that my children are over their strep throats (and Levi's additional double-ear infection).

Thank you that Levi's allergic reaction to the antibiotic was mild.

Thank you for our new used car.

Thank you that the nice gentleman that owned it only drove it 28,400 miles in ten years.

Thank you for my husband's new church, and for our new friends.

Thank you for our former church, and for our old friends.

Thank you for my job, even when it's sad.

Thank you that I can go to my job and receive perspective regarding life and it's challenges.

Thank you for Matthew.

Thank you for your hand upon His life, and the way in which he loves and blesses me.

Again, thank you for our warm, carpeted home.

Thank you that I no longer own a Newfoundland.

Thank you for the family in our new church that recently moved back to Chicagoland from Western New York.

Thank you for someone who knows what Wegmans, Weber's mustard, and Chiavetta's are about.

Thank you for your strength that carried me through Holy Week and bouyed me up under extra evenings without Matt.

Thank you for every day that Matt gets home safely from work.

Thank you for this day.

Amen.