Bits: Not for Granted

Leesie's Christmas Piggies, 2011

Every time one of my two bigger girls turns to me, usually in the dim light of bedtime, and asks a simple question it melts me into their very bunk beds.  Even if I've had a grumpy attitude because someone woke someone else up again, or someone spilled her water.  Even, and especially if, I've delighted in those last strokes of hair and nighttime prayers and wonder that is the three human beings God gave me for just a little while.

"Mama, what would I do without you?"

I can almost feel their hearts melt, little chests barely tighten as they ponder it for a minute.  Then weight gives way to happiness when they hear me reply, "No, sweetie, what I do without YOU?"

I know this feeling all too well.

I have a trio of bedtime songs that are often sung and among them is You Are My Sunshine.  Always when I come to the line about please don't take my sunshine away, my chest tightens a little.  Then it gives way to happiness because I see them there.  Their wet sheets, their reluctance to call it a night.  They are under my watchful protection and, for that moment, safe under my roof.

Dear God, I don't have words for the tragedy-- for the sunshine that was stolen this past week.  I cannot linger on it too much or for too long.  I am grateful for no cable, for limited internet forums because honestly I need to know this happened.  But I cannot know it too much.

For it will be too much.

I just know that tonight my heart, my tears, my prayers go to those mommies and daddies and families-- to all those little rays that should still be under roofs and spilling their waters.

And I know that tonight, I am so very grateful for the evidence of three baby girls in this house.  In the pile of sink dishes, in the mess of bathtub squeaky toys, in the stacks of books scattered about, in it all.  It's been a pretty quiet weekend here, one that comes with runny noses and tissues and soup, which gave me a chance to also really see the beauty in Christmas with my family.

A high privilege, the warmth of these bits.  Such miracles of life should never be taken for granted.
***

Merry Christmas, our friends.  May you hug a little tighter, linger just a while longer, pray a bit deeper, celebrate the piles and puddles, take hope that there is coming a day when such evil will no longer be tolerated. When the darkness will be forever stamped out by beautiful light.

Atop the small tree right beside my angels as they sleep

May we all not take a single bit of it for granted.

Warmest blessings to you and all of yours,
Katrina

Bits: To the Van

Most of the time, I can handle my three wee ones out in public.  We like to stay home and we like to go too, so it is important I can get them out and about and back all in one piece. Like I said, much of the time we can go on adventures relatively unscathed.  Having had a great deal of fun, even.

Lately though we've had a couple of outings where my kiddos felt berserk or, rather, I felt berserk because of my girlies.  Granted it has been in large arena type settings where my missing third appendage was greatly needed.  But, true story, both times I've lost my cool and loaded everyone back in the van.

Phew.  Not fun.

I always say, babies-- sweet babies. Those people just want to eat, sleep, and be held.  It's the ones who are mobile and have opinions that get tricky.

Yet, it's the mobile opinionated ones that make this life so rich.  Their perspective, their wonder, their hilarity, their hearts, their questions, their little selves evolving right before our very eyes.

Them and a few of their bits:
***
:: I tell you, this past week had its competitive moments with the week before in stealing joy.  Grrr. A few times I had to break out the big guns.  Hand-me-down (but new to us!) sleeping bags + snacks + a Christmas movie/book marathon...

= Take that, Sunday afternoon!  Even when I almost marched 'em out the van later on for complaining about my meatloaf.   But, since we were already home, I suppose that wouldn't have made a whole lot of sense.

:: My baking buddy.  She loves the apron, the messy hands, the creating.  Most of all, the time with just me as she proudly announces, "I'm Mommy's BIG helper!"

Right on, sweet girl.

:: Our efforts delivered.  Jolly little elf style.

:: Time with family rooting for our nephew's team!  Made it to the Virginia High School State Championship. Go #74!

:: Hot chocolate in to-go cups + a drive through live Nativity...

= Take that, Friday night!  Loved it.

:: I also love giving with the girls.  Whether it's baked goods to neighbors, Operation Christmas Child, or Angel Tree-- it's sweet to watch their hearts for compassion grow.  Our shopping for Angel Tree started out awesome, Target popcorn combo in hand, but grew a little sketchy toward the end.  Alysse, in particular, almost made me march it out to the van.  But I knew we had pushed time limits so, boy, did we rally.

Why yes, that is us-- up way past bedtime and wrapping gifts to Christmas music.  And yes, that is one gigantic tape-abused mess and three twirly crazy girls who could barely focus to take a picture.  Yet, oh yes, did I smile from ear to ear as they gushed over their selections and proclaimed how much better it is to give than to receive!  I guess that's what they call worth it.

:: I think I said this last week, yet it bears repeating.  Some Alysse Maribeth Martins.

:: Christmas jammies, courtesy of Auntie Marcie who always blesses us with such goodness this time of year.  Christmas jammies visiting the library Santa surely kicked 'em up a notch.

*************

All things considered, there is no competition in reclaimed joy.

Even still, sometimes we just gotta get the kids to bed so we can eat Mexican and watch A White Christmas.  It's a Wonderful Life.  Elf.  All three.   These are refueling moments for me as I march on with my loud, lovely, opinionated, larger than life bunch.

Ack, they're awesome.

Even if I have to march it to the van a time or twenty along the way.
 ~ Katrina

Bits: Double Do

Two things before any more falalalala...

1.  My bro, Andrea, and I actually made my Mom allow us to give them an early Thanksgiving.  Historic.  We are sure kinda grown-up these days, it seems.  Even if I'm missing the pics to prove it. :)  FYI: Billy makes a mean, grown-up deviled egg.

2.  I hate ticks.  I hate Lyme.  I hate all the other illnesses that go along these lines.  When our girls really mean something they shout out, "Double do!!!"  And so to the already strong vocabulary of hate, I add a hearty double do.

My feeling to slow down and relish the last of fall this past week was because, as it turned out, I actually would not be able to do much else.  I know Maddie and I will be healed of all this.  That the nastiness of these things will be used for glory.  On the worst day last week I got on google, read myself a few horror stories.  For shame.  That night as I cried and struggled to sleep I heard God whisper in my spirit, "That's not your story, Katrina."  I often know it's God because the voice is still and small and because He calls me by my name.  I love that.

And I love that, come what may, He knows the hairs on my head.  When I get up and sit down.  Go in and go out.

A God who cares about such things is pretty hard to fathom.  But, glory be, it is this same God who writes my story.  This latest plot twist has not thrown Him a curve.  He is paying attention.

Oh Father, I'm paying attention too.

Especially to the bits.
****

:: Little hands, little artists.  Light like that stretches its beams right down into my soul.

 :: Chicken casseroles and math problems.  Ordinary?  Suppose so.  Extraordinary?  Absolutely.

:: Alysse Maribeth.

To the left: My wrapping buddy.  To the right: Candy cane face, Daddy's flops.  She threw me a "Tank 'ew!" over the shoulder after I couldn't help but tell her she's awesome.

:: Saturday still had some funk left in it, but I broke away.  Got out in the sunshine for a few hours to shop for those I love.  Felt that fog begin to lift.  Came home in time for choosing, decorating, brownie'ing, and Maddie's turn this year for lifting us all right up to the tippy top.

:: Sunday gave me back it all in spades.  Not perfection, mind  you, but in tremendous blessing.  Church, family time, a Christmas Parade.  Such loveliness.

The Sweet Frog!  Major highlight! * The man behind us declared of toboggan girl, "That is the poster child for CUTE!" :)

:: Coloring the Christmas story.  Alysse needing the baby Jesus cut out immediately.

 :: Two Christmas gatherings on the same night, so Joe got himself a beautiful little date in plaid.  And I got to take two twirlers to their spaghetti fundraiser/performance.  Win, win.
 

Maybe bits are extra beautiful because of the hardship that coexists alongside them?  Maybe because of the plots that we sometimes wish our life would choose to edit?

Perhaps.

Either way, my loving these bits?

Double do. 
~Katrina