Monday, February 28, 2011

Daddy's home

When I was a little girl my dad played the guitar for me and my sister before bed at night.  I'll never forget it.  When I fell in love with my husband, he was a mediocre guitar player.  I mean, he played-Stairway-to-Heaven mediocre.  But I knew it would be ok, somehow it would work out.  And it did.
 My girls both love music, as do my husband and me.  We play guitar, piano, drums, recorders, harmonica, whatever is at hand.  We're not great at it, but let's just say that he plays a lot more than Stairway to Heaven, now.
 Last week my husband's father passed away somewhat unexpectedly from Stage IV lung cancer.  No one knew he was sick.  In reflecting on how this has affected us, I find myself mostly being thankful for the kind of father my husband has been to our kids.  I might blog more later on my dads and what they've meant to me, but this one is for my husband.
 We fell in love because we enjoyed being together and having fun.  Having kids hasn't changed that.  He's still my best friend.
 He works hard, too.  And he's teaching our girls what that means.
 He's patient, he's kind, and he knows how to communicate.  He might object to the subject of this blog post because he is truly more humble than he'd like to let on. 
He's not perfect, but he's mine.  And I'm so thankful that he is.  This man loves his kids and he loves Jesus.  Isn't that a great thing?

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Grace and Rain

We gave her the middle name Grace because the day she was born was an exercise in Grace for both of us.  I woke from the full anesthesia, numb, broken and weary.  It was hours before I was able to see her and longer until I held her for the first time.  The agony of that time has almost been erased, now.  The healing, while never fully complete, has certainly run it's course.  She has infinite grace for me, loving me in spite of my shortcomings, never holding a grudge and always willing to cry with me.  She is my graceful child, ready to dance, sing, perform and show me what she can do.  And every day she teaches me about grace and patience.  Oh, lots of patience.  I pray that she will know what it means to Worship with abandon, that she will be free in her spirit to always know God, and that she will know His calling in her life.  Grace. 

We gave her the middle name Rain because God told us it would be a year of increase for us, and it has been!  Rain often symbolizes spiritual blessing as well as physical blessing. Her birth occurred on a rainy day in July, the storms brewing outside while the storm of labor brewed in my body.  Her birth flooded my pain and sealed, finally, the wounds from the birth of our first daughter.  I pray that she will be a leader among her peers, a girl who knows her mind and will sway others to do the right thing.  I pray that she will always bring blessing, not curse, wherever she goes.  That she will speak life into others and they will know God because of her words.  I pray also for her, as I do her sister, that she will always know God's plan for her life and most of all that she will always know Him. She is Rain to me, always smiling, always willing to flow with our haphazard plans and best intentions.  Rain.

These are my girls, my greatest blessing, and my number one job.  I've never been happier, loved better, or been more sure that I'm absolutely doing the right thing with my life.  Just wanted to share with you all.  :)