Saturday, September 25, 2010

Remember me?



Hello blog world. I know the three of you (smile) are wondering where I've been lately. And the things is, I do so very much want to chronicle the wonder of these days of mothering my young ones. But my days are so filled doing just that, that I don't always take the time to fill everyone else in on what's happening around here.

Things have been so good and rich in the Mattson home. Precious Ainsley turned two years old last month. I'm entirely without explanation as to how this is possible so soon. Suppose I could remember the "full days" sentiment I just spoke about. These seasons really do pass us by in an instant. And oh how I want to be present in the moment so I don't miss a thing.

I want to be present enough to get that in simplicity I will find the profound. The other day after Emie told me that her tummy hurt I found her lying on the couch. She was so quiet I was sure she was asleep. I walked over to check and found her eyes clenched tightly closed, hands folded, while she spoke these words, "Dear God, would you please help Emie to feel better. Thanks." I want to take a moment and realize that this is the whole deal right here. The whole point. And how cute is it to refer to yourself in the third person in prayer? So good to remember that all I'm investing into this mothering bit is to encourage my girls to go to the Lord Jesus with their hurts, their thanks, their lives. When someone prays without being asked to you learn something about them. You see that they have an understanding of where their help comes from. The privilege of overhearing her gave me the golden opportunity to remind her of that request and point her to the Lord's answer when she told me later that she was feeling better. She got to experience the power of prayer first hand and see that you know what - it actually works. Not a bad day's work for either of us in the world of learning life's lessons.

It was just a few days later that her little friend had suggested they eat a sugary treat at her house without telling me about it. Emie told me instantly about the plan and told her friend that I don't like secrets. She makes me proud of her so many times but I don't ever want to call it common. It's not. It's extraordinary. And the best part for her... she still got to go over to the friends and eat the fruit snack (read: enhanced candy) cause life's about balance any old way.

Then there's Ainsley whose heart just seems to grow deeper and fuller with each passing day. She's strong. So strong that it can seem fierce sometimes in her determination to have her way. Yet I know it's a beautiful strength that will serve her well when pointed in the right direction. One night I was in her room attempting to give her a bedtime cup of milk from the rocker. This after I'd wrestled with her a good bit just to get her to put on a diaper. Yes, she still longs to be a nudist. I was weary from the struggle - from the day. She would have nothing of the milk I offered and pushed it so swiftly from my hands that it flew across the room leaving a tremendous spray of white all across the bamboo floors. I was so frustrated and hot with anger. I'm not proud here. I'm just not gonna lie. So I put her in her crib using nothing close to tenderness and told her firmly, "You work it out. I'll be back when you're done." And then I did one of those things you don't think you'll ever do. I slammed the door. Nice. That's the example I'm going for. Mother of the Year search committee... you know where to find me.

So after a few minutes I went back in and her room and there stood that gorgeous girl, cheeks wet with emotion. She looked at me and simply said, "Hi," in the softest little voice you could hope to hear. Then it was I who had the wet cheeks and the heavy heart. I held her warm jammie-clad body in my arms as she surrendered into my hug. She took the milk into her mouth and lay there in my arms. Through the tears I asked her if she would forgive me for bursting out with anger, for raising my voice, slamming the door. And to remember that neither of us gained anything by losing our tempers that night and maybe we could just pinkie promise to do better the next time. She seemed to agree, full lips taking in that sippy cup with great delight - dimpled fingers tracing my hands. So much we communicate with touch. I've heard it said that sometimes nature's out to settle a score and we wind up raising ourselves once we have children. There just might be something to that because these girls as so very much like me.

Oh, and I didn't tell you that Dirk and I went away to celebrate our anniversary. That would be number 10. Crazy blessed are we. When we were about to leave the girls in their grandma's care I looked at precious Ainsley and told her how madly in love with her I am. I went on to say, "Be a good girl, k?" and she looked right at me and said, "k." In her eyes was a knowing. She meant it and I knew she would be. I just melted right there in the kitchen. Did I mention that she's two? It was a moment to be present for. One not to miss. She's eager to please, pliable, teachable and oh so crazy lovable.

I'll have to share another time about what a ridiculous blast Dirk and I had away and some of the things we're learning right now. But mostly I'm just filled to the brim with gratitude. I get that this isn't every one's story. And frankly some days it doesn't feel like my story either when I'm so taken in by the urgent. But I do know it's incredible to be so full of delight that it spills right over onto everything else. Even when there's junk on my table and bathrooms that need a deep clean... life is way too good for me.

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