Food for the Soul

During the Covid pandemic, I had a clear understanding of the purpose of art. Though most people had food and shelter during the lock-down, it wasn't enough. We aren't simply robots, needing a recharge and tune-up every now and then. We are human, we are souls, and art fed those souls. So my family and I painted cards to send to people and made music videos to share online. At that time, I understood that art was a necessity.

But somehow, this past year, I lost that understanding. I no longer had a clear vision of the "why" behind what I did. My head knew it, but my heart didn't. As I tried to think of ways to bring in more income to help my college-bound children, I felt more and more that artists were undervalued in society. Schools were cutting art and music programs. Tech and computer skills were desirable in the job market. I could make $25/hour teaching music, but if a fast-food employee makes $20/hour (new law here in California), then does that mean I'm worth a little more than a McDonald worker? (I know it's not the right question to ask, but that's where my heart was at the time.)

What made matters worst was that after I finished vocal directing The Wizard of Oz in June, I felt a big hole. I had spent months working on this beautiful show, and it was all over in four days. What was I doing? I asked myself. Is it all meaningless?

I needed someone to shine a light through my fog, so this morning I had breakfast with my friend KW (who was the director of The Wizard of Oz and my musical, Five Children and It.) As she talked about collaboration and worship and God and all things dear to her heart, she couldn't hold back her tears. I just sat and listened. 

Hours later, I thought about her words, and it was then that my fog lifted. This is the vision I have now:

The shows I work on are like apples (or fill in with your favorite fruit here.) Most people will eat an apple, appreciate it, and enjoy it in the moment. They probably will not think about where the fruit came from, beyond the grocery store they bought it at. I, on the other hand, was there before the apple even started growing. I cared for the tree, saw the blossoms, and tended the apples as they grew. I worked alongside the Creator to ensure a sweet, beautiful crop. And in the end, when I enjoyed a bite of the apple, I could think back to the day I first saw the tiny apple growing on the tree. And I could be proud of the work I've done, even after the apple is gone.

So now I see that being an artist is an amazing blessing, not a curse. The world may not value it as such, but that's okay. I'm working with God to cultivate food for the soul!

Who Does She Look Like?

When I look at you

I don't see your sister

Nor your brother

Nor your father

Nor even me

When I look at you

I see the Designer

the Artist

the Architect

the Sculptor

the Engineer

the Knitter

the Scientist

the Musician

the Writer

the One who gifted me with this work of art

and allowed me to hold His masterpiece

this six pound eleven ounce masterpiece

in my arms

Ready to Meet Baby!

It's been a busy end to our summer. We squeezed in some fun days at the beach and friends' swimming pools, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, we sent one daughter off to college in faraway North Carolina, I worked extra hours to help pay for her schooling (and the increase in our rent in an already overpriced housing market), and we started another year of homeschooling.

But lately, I haven't felt very productive. I have projects awaiting me, but I'm achy and tired by the end of the day. Then I remind myself that it's okay to allow myself to focus on simply being mom to my nine children right now.  At 34 weeks pregnant, I'm telling myself, "You're making a baby. That's productive."

And I'm still in awe of this whole process. The ninth time is not any less magical than the first. When I wake in the middle of the night to the feel of my little girl's strong kicks in my abdomen, I am still taken by surprise at this whole process!

Nine months ago, this person did not exist except in the mind of her Creator.

I'm making in me something that is far more complex than anything Man could ever make, and yet, I am not doing the making; I am simply the vessel. The making is happening on its own.

This new person is in me, but a person all her own. She wakes when I sleep, she moves when I lay down, she is her own being. And... she responds to piano music. When I'm teaching piano lessons, it's like she's dancing inside of me. I love that.

We are eagerly counting down the weeks until we get to meet this new person. Baby clothes are ready, carseat and diapers are ready... I just need a bassinet from a friend and then we're good to go. And I am eagerly counting down the days when I'm no longer pregnant! Because not only does that mean I can wear my old clothes again and eat a normal diet again, I can hold my ninth child in my arms for the first time!

On Being Pregnant

I only realized today that I have never written about pregnancy. Probably because in the past, whenever I was pregnant, I was also trying to keep up with a toddler. And truthfully, I've never given much thought to pregnancy. I just accepted it "as is". Even now, if someone asks me how I'm feeling (6 months pregnant at this point), I usually just say with a smile, "Like I'm carrying a bowling ball in my stomach."

But my emotions are much more complex than that. It's a "bowling ball" that is depending on me for life. And so far, this baby is pretty mellow, so every other night I wake up in a panic, wondering if she is still alive because I hadn't notice movement since the afternoon.

And though I KNOW that I'm not "fat", I can't help but be self-conscious about how this "bowling ball" makes me look. Clothes don't fit like they used to. People say I look "glowing" and "beautiful", but most of the time, I don't feel like that. I'm tired. My legs and ankles ache. If I don't wear compression tights, the veins on my legs bulge (I apologize in advance for the gross imagery) like I have slugs and worms living under my skin.

Simply put, I don't feel like myself.

But then again, that's because I am NOT myself. I am, in fact, two people right now.

And maybe that's the whole point. These nine months before the baby is born puts me in a place of discomfort and inconvenience–to say the least–which forces me to be less self-centered. It's not all about me. Just as it will not be all about me when this child is born. Can I put myself aside during these months, before this tiny human arrives and I have to put myself aside even more? And for my husband–this is training time to care for me more as I go through nausea and pain and self-doubt. He is my encouragement, now and for the months and years ahead.

So rather than treating these months of pregnancy as a waiting period, impatiently whining and griping while the baby is "just growing", I can learn to enjoy this time as a period where God is growing ME. 

Taking Part in the Beautiful

photo courtesy of J Swenson Photography

My son was born in my bedroom. It still seems unreal sometimes. With only my husband, my midwife, my photographer friend, and three pushes, my baby saw light for the first time. And as soon as I held him in my arms, all the pain of the previous nine hours, and the fears of the previous nine months, were forgotten.

As you can see from the photo, the joy I felt at that moment could not be contained. It didn’t matter that this was my sixth child. This was still special. Like listening to Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings. Or watching a sunset go through all its changes. It doesn’t matter that I’ve heard Adagio for Strings five hundred times before, or that I’ve watched a thousand sunsets in my lifetime. It’s still special–every time. Only, this was even better. In giving birth, I’m a participant, not a bystander.

We all long for opportunities to take part in the Beautiful, to step into something bigger than ourselves. This was my chance. And it was only the beginning, Day 1 of many days of raising and caring for this child. And it may seem mundane, even degrading at times. The lustre of parenthood is not always as clear as it is on the day of meeting one’s child. Certainly there are days when I wish for a sunset, in Paris, from the top of the Eiffel Tower. Or an opportunity to sing Adagio for Strings, in a beautiful concert hall, with a top-notch choir.

But let me never forget, I am still an integral part of the Beautiful, from diapers to runny noses, from laundry to dishes. For what can be more beautiful than human life?

Life in the Slow Lane

Grinding the coffee by hand.

Hanging the laundry to dry.

Writing a letter and sending it by mail.

Sometimes, doing something slowly is worth the time it takes. We have so many gadgets to help us save time... but why do we need to save that time? I'm not sure if "time-savers" are a benefit when it makes us feel like we should squeeze more things onto our to-do lists.

And plus, when we do something slowly, our minds can slow down too. We give more thought to the task, or give more thought to an emotion or idea. We pay attention.

I started a garden last year, but I don't have a sprinkler system or drip lines set on on a timer. When my flowers and baby fruit trees need water, I go out and grab the hose. And this is when I talk to my little avocado tree  that is diligently growing tiny leaves. Or I bend down to dead-head the chrysanthemum and dahlias and make sure they're getting what they need. Or sometimes, I just close my eyes, feel the day shining on my face, and take a slow, deep breath. I know that if I didn't have to water the plants by hand, I wouldn't go outside as much. 

Today, find a task that you would normally use a gadget for and do without. Knead some dough by hand. Read to your children instead of turning on a tablet. Drive without GPS (and see where the road takes you!)

My Father's Delight

When I was young, I would spend hours on the piano–playing new songs, playing old songs, singing, writing–I simply couldn't get enough. My parents loved it when I filled the house with music. My siblings didn't love it quite as much.

When it came time for me to decide on a college and major, I was set on education.

"You should study music," my parents told me.

I shrugged. But in the end I signed up as a music major because the school I picked only had education as a minor. Good thing my parents knew me better than I knew myself. I loved the four years I had to immerse myself in music; that love has not diminished. And my parents still delight in their daughter's singing and playing.

Now that I'm a mom, I also delight in my children. When I see my children doing something they love–singing, playing, running, building–the joy on their faces fills me with a greater joy.

Did you know that God delights in YOU in the same way?

Zephaniah 3:17 says, "The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing."

Some people, when they think of God, think of His anger or His disappointment. They see God more as a taskmaster than a father. Others, when they think of God as a father, see Him more as a provider or a guardian. But a delighted Father? one who laughs? the Creator who enjoys His creation? For most of us, it's hard to picture God this way. We're thinking, "Yeah, I know He loves me, but...." 

God does not love us out of obligation. He truly enjoys us! He is happy when He sees us loving life! He rejoices over us with singing! That's like when I'm with my kids and I start singing a number from a Broadway musical (and totally embarrassing my children)! But I can't help it because I'm swept up by the joy my children give me!

Do you know the delight of the Father?

Grains of Sand

I reread an old post from December 2011 and found it to be encouraging, in light of my latest post. These photos show grains of sand, courtesy of Professor Gary Greenberg and his book, Grains of Sand. To our naked eyes, sand looks like tiny brown rocks. But when magnified, we can see that each grain is amazingly unique.

Not only that, some are precious gems, just so minute that we don't realize it. Can you imagine... if God can make each individual grain of sand so beautiful, how much more does He care for us? God is in even the tiniest details!

We look at sand and think of it as ordinary and unremarkable, but let us remember that oftentimes the "ordinary" can be extraordinary! We may pass our time daydreaming of doing "bigger" things, when what is important and beautiful is right under our feet: time with our children, calling an old friend, inviting a neighbor over.

Though this is not my home...

I apologize for not having written since... June?! Has it been that long?!

If it helps at all, I started a post in July, then put it on hold. AND I've been using my quarantine time to finish my new book, which I hope will be available to you al before the end of the year!

Other projects I've been doing during this time are:

-making cards for residents at the nearby assisted living facility

-trying new recipes, like ube ice cream (yum!)

-doing crafts with the kids

-reading stories to the kids and teaching my five-year-old to read

And just yesterday, I decided to landscape the front yard.

Now, those of you who have been reading my blog for a while know that my family rent our home, and over the years, I've always had to tell myself, "Don't get too attached. You'll only be here for a few years."

This was partly for my own good. When I first got married, after having moved from house to house all my life, I dreamed of buying a home and living in it until I died. When our attempts to purchase a house failed several times, I had to let that dream go. God taught me that my home is not found in a location, but in the people in my life–my husband, my children, my friends, and my church.

But the down side of a "temporary" home is that I didn't want to invest in anything long term.

"Should I start a garden? Nah, we might have to move in the summer."

We always knew that the owners of this house plan to move in some day. When they deiced to chop down the only tree in the front yard, there wasn't anything I could do abut it. When the sprinkler system broke and the lawn died, I just thought, "Oh well." Every summer, when the lease-end date approached, I found it harder and harder to put my energy into the house.

Then this year, the owners gave us a two-year lease. And maybe it's because I'm feeling listless for the lock-down, or maybe I just grew tired of looking at my dead lawn, but I decided to beautify the front of the house. Even with only a few pots of fruit trees and bright flowers and several bags of mulch, I was able to make my brown yard into something colorful, cheery, and life-giving.

And here's the lesson I learned as I stepped back to look at the beautiful greenery:

Just because a home is temporary doesn't mean I shouldn't care. It's easier to be apathetic and do nothing, but I can add to the beauty, no matter where I am.

And that goes for my temporary home on earth too. There are days (especially in recent months) when I just want to say, "I don't care anymore." I know that life here is short and something better awaits for me. So why try to fix anything here on earth?

But God wants us to be His hands and feet here. He wants us to bring beauty and light to the world, though sometimes we would rather hide for the darkness. Even if I live to be 101, I want to always be doing what I can to share God's love and joy with others.

How can you add to the beauty today?

Hope When Days are Dark

I haven't written in a while because I didn't have the words.

After losing two friends to cancer, then finding out that our "pet" bird was put to sleep, then saying good-bye to some of my closest friends as they move across the country, then hearing that another friend's newborn has Down Syndrome and has trouble breathing and needs heart surgery, all within a month, I didn't know how to express all the thoughts and emotions in my heart and mind.

The world felt dark, and I found myself in a strange place.

Every time I went outside, I would take a breath and smile at the beauty my eyes beheld, and almost the very next second I would feel tears welling up inside me. Every time I started to sing in worship–sing songs of God's love and salvation–I choked on the words and more tears fell from my eyes. I was having a difficult time reconciling the beauty of the world with the sadness in it. And how the God of love and joy could allow this pain in our stories.

The only thing that kept me going was hope, and not the kind of hope that is really just wishful thinking (this hope disappoints), but the kind of hope that knows, the hope founded in my faith in the God of love and joy. I know that even in the darkness, a Light shines. I know that the darkness would not consume me, even as I felt crushed underneath its weight. I know that whatever happens, the baby, the move, the bird, the cancer, will lead to something good. These stories are not over. 

I don't have all the answers. I haven't stopped shedding the tears. But hope allows me to laugh and smile and continue to strive to love and heal this broken world.  

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. 
~Hebrews 11:1

Rainy Days

Ugh, the winter doldrums.

The months after Christmas always feel the longest. We've had so many cold, rainy days lately that we can't play outside much. The dreary clouds start getting to everyone after a while too. I'm just plain tired. School feels tedious and my teenagers are discontent. The baby has been teething for weeks and still wakes two to three times a night. And while I feel like crawling into my bed and hibernating, my younger children have too much energy. I even suggested to my husband that we should petition to move Christmas to February or March, just so we have something joyful to look forward to during these dark months.

But the cold and the rain has also brought with them a new beauty. When I drive through our valley, I see snow sitting on the hills. Usually, if we get snow at all, the snow melts by the time the noonday sun shines on it. This year, we've had white on the hilltops for weeks. And every time I see those hills, I'm awed by the sight, and I remember these words:

I lift up my eyes to the hills.

From where does my help come?

My help comes from the Lord,

Who made heaven and earth.

~Psalm 121:1-2 (ESV)

The God who makes the snow fall, the daffodils bloom, and the rainbows glow is helping me with the day-to-day. Because of that, I have joy and hope even when the winter feels long.

My "Secret" Valentine

It was the end of a long day. My husband had left for a church men's retreat right after breakfast. My solo time with the kids went well, but I was ready for bed myself when the last child finally kissed me good night.

But first, a chance to soak in the tub.

When I felt sufficiently relaxed, I wrapped a towel around me, climbed out of the tub, and slid on my glasses. That was when I saw it. 

With the steam swirling in the room, it could have been a trick of the light. I stepped closer to the mirror. I was almost sure that there were letters written on the glass. I shifted my angle. Yes! Mysteriously appearing on the mirror was this message, "I love you."

Hmmm…, I thought, intrigued. 

But fatigue was overtaking me. I finished dressing, flossed and brushed my teeth, and prepared to crawl into bed. And then, I saw it again!

On my fuzzy blue blanket were letters, difficult to see in the light, but clearly written by someone's hand. I could just make out the words: "I love you very much."

I wonder…, I thought again, before a hippo-sized yawn escaped my mouth. I laid down and snuggled into my blankets. Time for some zzz's. 

But then, my hand discovered something under my pillow. I unfolded the piece of paper and read "I love you more today than yesterday." This, I knew, was no accident. My husband had cleverly left me notes to remind me of his love while he was away. Feeling secure and well-loved, I settled back into my bed and drifted to sleep with a smile on my lips.

This story is actually fictitious (sorry if I disappoint you!). I do find hidden messages every now and then, but never so many at once. It was after finding such a message on my blanket one day that I got the revelation that God is very much like my "secret" valentine. He writes "I love you" not in letters but in His creation: a flying egret, a sprouting seed, an ocean's wave. People may argue that nature is all a matter of chance, but I see complexities and order that can only be the sign of a Creator. Just as letters cannot appear by themselves on a mirror, life cannot exist without an author. 

Then there is the note under the pillow. God gave us a note–the Bible–to send His message to us, loud and clear. If I can't see God in His creation, I can read about His love in the Bible. So God, my "secret" valentine, is not so secret after all, if I take the time to look for Him. He is saying "I love you!" everyday and everywhere.

Have you met your "secret" valentine yet?

Introducing… Wenyu!

Of all my blogger friends, Wenyu Zhang is the one I've met most recently. I still remember my first conversation with him. It was a Sunday, and we were standing in the hall after our morning church service. I started with the usual questions like, "Are you new to the area?" but he quickly skipped over the small talk and jumped right into culture, faith, and his desire to minister to immigrant Chinese Christians in the area. His enthusiasm and passion were contagious!

I soon learned that Wenyu is enthusiastic and passionate about all things in life, but most especially about his family, cooking, travel, and art. And his wife and daughter share the same enthusiasm! Whenever I am with the Zhang family, I find myself drawn into fun or thought-provoking conversations.

Which is why I was super-excited when Wenyu started a blog last October! Wander, Savor, Marvel is the perfect blend of all that Wenyu enjoys the most: if features photos from trips his family took, and includes recipes of new foods that they tried on their voyages. The blog is still in its infancy, but it's worth checking out. The photos will take your breath away (or make your mouth water!)

And now, without further ado, the interview. Meet my friend Wenyu!

1) Tell us a little about you and your family.
I was born and raised in mainland China, moved to the States for graduate school in my early twenties, and have lived here ever since. I am a chemist by trade, and like cooking, traveling, watching movies, and playing a little volleyball in my spare time.

I met a wonderful woman back in college, and have been married to her for more than 12 years. We have a 9-year-old daughter who is very sweet and enjoys everything we do together as a family.

2) What do you love most about traveling and exploring?
There is always something unexpected and exciting about a new place we go to, even if it's just the hill 5 miles from where we live. We like to dig a little deeper into the places we go to–geological features, local history, how people live their lives differently, etc. I came to realize that my perception and understanding of the world I live in are so limited. It is always eye-opening and humbling.

3) What do you love most about cooking?
Cooking relaxes me, and yields something that I can enjoy together with my family. My wife is an amazing cook, which means 1) I don't have to cook very often so it's really not a chore, and 2) even if I mess up, she will be able to use her magic to either fix it or whip up something quickly, so no pressure for me! With that stress-free mentality I get to enjoy the luxury of playing with some new materials or methods and try something on the complicated side. This satisfies my chemist side as well, since cooking essentially is a process of conducting chemical transformations on foods, and you get to eat the product of these reactions!

Lately, cooking has allowed me to spend some quality time with my daughter, as she is not only the #1 fan of Daddy's food, but also old enough and interested enough to be a really good helper.

Also, cooking is part of a culture. We are fascinated by the variety of cuisine there is, and how each vividly reflects people's life in different paces. We are adventurous and curious eaters who are open to that wide variety of food, and always try to replicate it in our kitchen.

4) What have you learned about God in your travels?
I learn so much. The wonder of God's creation unfolds through our travels. When it comes to nature, I marvel at His power that shaped that planet for us to live on, with the astonishingly wide array of geological and biological environments. Then there is history and culture, which directly points to the wisdom He has bestowed upon the human race. Finally, our inherent desire to discover and appreciate beauty enriches our lives, which is also a gift from God.

5) What have you learned about being a husband and father through your travels?
Traveling really helps me cherish my family. When we travel, we spend time with each other 24/7, and I find great joy in it. It reminds me that I need to mindfully prioritize family time on my to-do list. Sometimes, I even plan separate trips with just my wife or just my daughter. Each of these trips is a precious and unique memory.

Our destinations as well as the topic during our travels help us think about what our family value is. Since I usually get to make the travel plans, I have the privilege to set the tone for the family. God has been using the travels to remind me that joy instead of pleasure is worth pursuing.

Any fun tips for other amateur photographers, explorers, chefs, and bloggers?
Involving the entire family makes everything more fun and meaningful. If you want to make the most out of your hobbies, you may want to position them as family activities instead of just hobbies. Then maybe share the joy with people around you; it will multiply.

And there is always room to be creative, which can make these activities even more fun. Recently our family started something called "one-word" photography. We try to find unusual scenes during our travels, capture them in photos, and then use our imagination to give each of them a one-word title. The first photo was taken at the train station in Nottingham, UK, where the exterior of its parking structure was decorated with vertical panels of various colors. We called the photo "keys" as it looked like the keyboard on a piano.

Wenyu, thank you so much for taking the time to share about yourself! And again, feel free to check out his blog, Wander, Savor, Marvel. I can't wait to see more of Wenyu's photos, recipes, and writings!

A Surreal Sunday

My husband got a concussion on Sunday.

He went out to enjoy a few minutes of scootering with our young son before dinner, and the next thing I know, my daughter comes running in, saying, "Mom, come quick! Dad needs you!" I hurry out to meet my husband, hobbling towards the house with his arm around my oldest daughter. Blood was on his chin, neck, and arm. His face was pale and grimaced with pain.

I sat him in a chair and examined his cuts and abrasions. The one on his chin definitely needed stitches, so I starting making preparations for a trip to the emergency room. While calling grandparents and giving instructions to get dinner on the table, I noticed that my husband, though he seemed lucid, was repeating himself. He asked again and again, "What happened? Did I hit something?" No matter how many times I explained to him what had occurred, he asked me the question again within half a minute.

It was scary. If you've never experienced a concussion before, believe me, it was scary. He looked fine (enough) on the outside, but his brain had suffered injury.

All on the way to the hospital, my husband could not remember what happened. He could not remember what he did that morning, or the night before. He could not remember that I was pregnant with our eighth child. But at the hospital, we received the best possible news. I thank God that the doctor did not find any internal bleeding or broken bones. Besides the concussion, there was no other major damage done. My husband suffers from short-term memory loss, but that should go away with time. It has been a "surreal" experience, in his words. He now has greater sympathy for the elderly and those who suffer from Alzheimer's, dementia, or other brain damage.

And I, well, I'm exhausted. I won't write much more than to say this:

Our bodies are wonderfully made, fragile and strong at the same time. That my husband could take a fall like that and not be dead is amazing. That his body is healing itself is astounding. But that it took only a fall from a foot-powered scooter and a landing on a paved road to hurt his head, that makes me humble. There is nothing that we can take for granted. Life and health are gifts from God. Every day and every moment are gifts from God. One minute, I'm cooking dinner and listening to my children play outside with their dad, and the next… I was glad when I cleaned my husband's blood-stained clothes only because I knew that he would still be there to wear them.

Love each other selflessly. Forgive much, as your Father in heaven has forgiven you much. And be thankful. (Colossians 3:15b)

The Wonder of Plants!

Plants– they're everywhere, but have you ever really looked at them? From the humble dandelion to the mighty oak, these amazing living things surround us, happily minding their own business. Without plants, our world would be less colorful. Without plants, our world would be more boring. Without plants, we would be… dead!

After our year's study in botany, my appreciation of plants have grown exponentially. Who knew that plants were so complicated? (Well, a botanist knows, but I surely didn't!) Did you know that…

-to ensure pollination, bees go in search of pollen from only one kind of flower at a time?                                           -ferns and mosses send out sperm from their male part to swim to the egg in the female part?                                   -some flowers have ultraviolet patterns on their petals to show bees (that see in ultraviolet) where to go for food? These are called nectar guides. (to see some examples of these flowers, go to this website: http://www.sciencephoto.com/set/1420/uv-flowers)

God's care is revealed in how plants continue to flourish and grow despite the many obstacles that can impede reproduction. And God's beauty is shown when we see the many varieties of plants that are in our world. He could have made one kind of tree and one kind of fruit and one kind of flower, but we have thousands and thousands!

And as the perfect end to our study, we took a trip to the UC Berkeley Botanical Gardens. They have plants from all over the world, beautifully arranged in little nooks and along paths. It was easy to imagine that you were somewhere other than Berkeley, California! The kids brought along their homemade botany journals and sketched the interesting plants they saw, and we brought a picnic lunch and enjoyed in on the lawn in the middle of the gardens.

The gardens were so big that we couldn't walk it all in three hours. We definitely plan another trip this summer, and if you are in the area, I recommend that you do too!

I See the King!

"Mom! There is a giant bird in the tree! Mom! It looks like a penguin!!"

Penguin?! I thought. My children's imaginations must be working overtime. 

But my children know about birds, so they could not have been exaggerating that much. I made my way to the window to check out this penguin.

There, in our neighbor's tree, was not one, but TWO, gray oblong shapes that did look a lot like penguins!

"Mom, are they hawks?"

"No… not any hawk I've ever seen!"

We eventually figured out that our penguins were two huddled blue herons trying to keep warm in the windy weather. We watched the pair throughout the day, taking great delight whenever one moved, worrying when we couldn't see two, and wondering if they would choose to be our permanent neighbors.

That evening at dinner, my husband read another chapter from Tales of the Kingdom (one of our favorites, written by David and Karen Mains). This chapter, titled 'Sighting Day' was about a game called seek-the-King.

"The children try to find the King all over Great Park on Sighting Day," Mercie explained further. "It is a huge game of seek-the-King. He appears in disguises…"

But the game is not as easy as it sounds, because before a person can see the King, he/she has to believe in the King. I won't give away too much, but by the end of the chapter, our protagonist Hero was able to say, "I see the King!"

Suddenly it all came together. Hero understood. This was the King. This beggar. This peasant. This athletic young man.

For me, the connection could not have been clearer. I'm not an avid bird watcher, but I do take great delight in identifying birds and watching their habits. Whenever I'm walking or driving, I spot birds and point them out to my children. Now the children have caught on to my little hobby. When I hear one of them shout out, "There's our phoebe!" or "I saw a red-winged blackbird" I am filled with joy.

Similarly, I can be the one who teaches my children to see Jesus everywhere. When I give thanks despite a difficult situation, I am showing my children that Jesus is in control. When I give praise to the Creator for His beautiful world, I am pointing out God's handiwork. And when I treat strangers, neighbors, and even enemies with love, I am demonstrating Jesus's love for those who were made in His image. Yes, the King is everywhere, if we only open our eyes to see Him.

The herons did not choose to stay for more than a day, but as we drove to church last Sunday, we spotted a heron at the nearby creek.

"Look! A heron! Maybe that's our heron!"

I smiled. Hearing those words brought to my mind an image of my children playing a game of seek-the-King, maybe at church, maybe at the park, maybe at the store. How wonderful it would be to hear them shout one day,

"I see the King!"

The Real Reason Why My House is a Mess

It was 5pm. The children were playing outside. The baby was content. It was time to get in the kitchen and start dinner.

I had fully intended to leave the baby with his eldest sister, but as I lay him on the couch, he flashed a huge smile at me before I could turn away. 

Too late. My insides melted.

I turned again to leave, but he flashed his gummy smile once more. Suddenly, I was on my knees making goofy faces back at him.

Then he began talking in his little baby language, and I knew I was his captive. I could do nothing but kiss his soft cheeks over and over and laugh as he enthusiastically flapped his arms and kicked his legs like an Olympic swimmer. After a lengthy conversation of 'goo's and 'ah's, I swept up the baby in my arms again.  

What's the use? I can't fight it. I'm completely in love with this little boy.

So next time you come to my house and it looks like I haven't cleaned, washed, or cooked anything, remember, I have a valid excuse: I had a baby recently. 

And I just can't stop cuddling him.

From Baby to Young Man

I am holding my new baby, reveling in his little fingers, his perfect ears, his fuzzy downy head. He sleeps, he eats, and does little else, and still I am awed by him. I am especially awed when he so quickly stops crying when he is transferred to my arms. What a responsibility I have! And still I wonder, "Where did this masterpiece come from? Certainly not from inside me!" I know this child is mine, and yet I have this feeling that he is not really mine at all. He is a gift sent from above (his middle name 'Matthew' means 'gift from God'), placed ever so gently in my arms for safe keeping. Aren't babies such a wonderful introduction to parenthood?

Contrast him with my oldest boy, who was once a seven-pound sack of potatoes himself and is now as tall as me. He longs to be with his dad and his friends more than he longs to be with me. He faces the temptation to be on the computer all day, or to be lazy and self-centered. And he will soon (sooner than I like!) start thinking about leaving home. I almost can't believe that thirteen years ago this Saturday, I became a mother for the first time. Never could I have imagined then the man that my baby would become. I only saw an adorable, kissable, helpless (but sometimes very loud!) little person. I didn't know (not exactly anyway) what my role in his life was besides feeding, cleaning, and protecting him. I didn't understand then what it meant to guide this little person to manhood.

This is one of the benefits now of being a 'veteran' mom. When I see my newest bundle of joy, I am able to see beyond the chubby cheeks, flailing arms, and the cries for attention. I see past my days of breastfeeding and my nights of interrupted sleep. This little person will someday need guidance in making wise decisions, will someday need lessons in self-control, truthfulness, and diligence, will someday actually seek out independence– step by step he will start walking his own path until the day he sets out by himself.

And this is my task as mom. Each of my children has his journey to discover. Whether the child is nine days or thirteen years old, I am helping him on that journey, which, with much prayer, will lead him to the throne of the One who made him.

We Are His Workmanship

My friend is a writer. I mean, a real writer. She has an agent. She's been published. She spends the bulk of her day actually writing.

I'm sure you caught the hint of envy in my voice. Whenever I hear her good news, I am genuinely happy for her, but I can't help but think, "Hey, she has only one child. Of course she's a better writer than me." I think about the few moments when the house is quiet enough for me to think a complete thought. I think about all the times I try to write, in my head, while washing the dishes or driving from Point A to Point B. I think of that someday when I can tackle my writing like a professional.

I am thinking of all the things I am not.

Comparison can be harmless, but it is also sneaky, because it  unlocks the door for your real enemy: envy. And envy can take anyone's happy circumstances (or your own!) and turn it into an arrow aimed for your heart. It can even take a loved one's joy and turn it into a bitter tea.

But it is not a tea that you must drink.

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. ~Ephesians 2:10

God has amazing plans for ALL of us. But they are not all the SAME plans. And the plans may not be what we dream for ourselves. But they are good. And they will lead to more goodness if we follow through with them.

So with this in mind, I need to refocus on the path that God has for me. It is a path of great joy, but only if I don't allow comparison and envy to come and steal away that joy. My 'good works' are here, as a homeschooling mother of six, as a wife of a pastor, as the bearer of Child #7, as a writer, as a missionary to everyone I meet. I will walk in these good works, because I am HIS workmanship.

Caring for the Sparrows

My daughter rushed in from the backyard.

"Mom, there's a bird outside and it's hurt!"

I followed her out and saw my other children standing by some old branches. There, in the dirt, was a little sparrow. Its feathers were fluffed out, it was missing an eye, and it was sitting very still, as if it wanted to hide. I quietly walked over to it, and with little trouble, gently picked it up.

We brought the bird inside and prepared a box for it. As far I could tell, there wasn't much wrong with the bird. The eye injury was old and its wings weren't broken. But the little bird couldn't fly. My children were delighted with the prospect of a sparrow for a pet. They named it 'Cocoa' and watched over it as it tucked its head under a wing and took a nap.

But, a few hours later, delight turned to sorrow. Cocoa started to contort its body in distress, and soon, it was lying still in my daughter's hand. The children buried Cocoa outside (and somehow managed to misspell the name). I found my middle daughter crying later, and I let her cry. I told her that we did what we could, but we couldn't fix an internal problem. Nevertheless, the bird was able to rest (and die) in a warm, safe environment, and that it was good to care for living things, even if, in the end, we got nothing in return.

I'm saddened to think that our world doesn't always agree with that last statement. The more I read and hear about current trends, the more I see a shift in how we care for the weak, helpless, and needy. At the top of the list are the elderly, the disabled, the sick, and babies (born and unborn). Next on the list are neighbors, acquaintances, and family members who require more of our time, money, or energy. 

We as humans naturally find it easier to care for people who can care back. It is easier to love those who can give us something in return. But is that how God sees us? Is that how He sees the sparrows? No, God cares for the sparrows (see Luke 12:6) though the sparrows can do nothing for God. And in the same way, God loves us, though we are of no benefit to Him. In fact, God's love for us COST Him something– His own son. And He does shed tears for us when He sees us hurting.

My family didn't make any big sacrifices for the little sparrow (we didn't catch any disease or parasite, we didn't spend any money besides buying a bag of bird seed) but I am still glad for the reminder that we need to care for the 'sparrows', even if it is at great cost to us.