Strand of Three

Some days I miss having a newborn around. Other days I'm just thankfull for where my children are at today.

The greatest responsibility that I’ve been given as a woman is that of raising my children. There is no greater reward to be found in any job than this one. I’d change a thousand diapers for that very moment when a new life is placed in my waiting arms. The warmth of new skin, little arms waving about, and the clucking sound of one waiting to be fed, are sounds and sights of a new life placed in my care.

Dad takes a step or two back unsure of this new responsibility, unsure of where he fits in.

For the next three months, baby is reliant on me, to be fed, to hold him at night, and to quiet his cry. Then we see that baby prefers to lie in Dad’s lap, and toddler prefers to climb on Dad’s back, and a young boy runs to greet Dad at the door—-that is until he gets hurt, and runs back to Mom.

Together, we raise the children as God intended—-a strand of three that is not quickly broken—-Mom and Dad together as one.

A Guy Thing

Dear Diary,

Yesterday my husband gave the boys a haircut, which was all well and good, but after the haircut there was a lot of screaming and giggling going on up there. Nathaniel ran down to tell me that Dad was vacuuming them. Should I have been worried? Ok, he must be using the little hand vac to clean up the mess, I figured. But my figuring wasn't correct.

Turns out that Dad was trying out his new "Rigid Power Vac" that frankly is strong enough to swallow a German Shepherd or two. Looking at the shop vac, the slightly deflated boys, and the husband with a grin on his face, I had to wonder if this might be a guy thing.

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Breezing Through Winter - Update

Dear Diary,

Not five minutes after I posted the blog, Michael placed an iced cappucino before settling down on the sofa accross from me--a hot coffee in his hands. "You know, I was thinking..." he started, and I knew exactly where this conversation was going to go, "it might not be the best idea for me to take the van downtown without a window this week. It would just be a target for vandelism."

Argh! I knew it, I was going to be the one speeding down the road with my frozen hair flapping against the window of murky plastic. And I'd be the one with the blue lips saying good-bye to the kids when I dropped them at school.

"Yeah, that's my mom--" they'll say, "she's the one with the frozen hair. Don't worry she looks happier when she melts."

I had finally got my own car four months ago after waiting for ten years. That little red baby is mine, and I love everything about it. I love the way the dips in the seat fit my cheeks to a tee, and the gas peddle is just within reach for my little legs. I like that radio station comes on when I start the engine, and that my windows are crystal clear and wind free.

But Michael had a point that I didn't want to consider, because it pointed to the road of self sacrifice. It was easier to choose the selfish road because that road was filled with glamour and warmth.

Through out the day, I softened till finally I suggested it on my own. "You know, I was thinking," I said, "you're probably right. The van won't be safe downtown, take my car, and I'll use yours."

I feel good. It's funny, but when you finally take the road of self sacrifice, even the little ones that face us from day to day, it's only then that you realize you're finally driving in the right direction. For now I'll be looking through a murky glass, but eventually I'll be seeing things face to face, when I finally arrive at my eternal destination.

Here's another great verse for today:

"Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body. Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing. ." ~ Ephesians 5:22-24

Breezing Through Winter

Dear Diary,

Hubby got his van window smashed by an intruder early yesterday morning while it was still dark. The scary thing is that his employee happened to be on the fire escape watching and hollered out to the guy but he still proceeded to smash the window and rummage through the car. My husband and his brother ran down the hallway and then down five flights of stairs to try to catch the guy, but he was too quick.

I fear that this can only mean one thing--my husband will be driving my cute little red car to work for the next little bit, while I shuffle the kids to and from school with a piece of plastic protecting me from the elements of this harsh winter. He hasn't suggested it yet, but I fear this suggestion may pop up between now and Monday morning. :(

I suddenly recall the many times I've said, "Wow that guy must be freezing!" as I looked at others drivers in this predicament. So, I'll have to let you know how this unfolds. And, if my ears get frostbitten--whether they unfold too.

Here's a great verse for today:

"Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it;" ~ Ephesians 5:25

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