I can hear them laughing up there. Squeals of delight as they run just within arms length of his big, strong arms. Every now and then the floorboards creak with heavy steps as they chase him around the family room. Pillows take to the air and half-hearted pleas for help fly up.

How I thank God for this family.

For a husband who resolved that “the buck stops here” and fell at the feet of His Lord, ending a chain of dysfunction and addiction that had haunted previous generations of McKee men. A man who said “by God’s grace I will engage with my children and love my wife like Jesus loves His bride, the church.”

For two children who are learning to live with integrity and love with abandon.

Thank you, gracious God, for the sounds that fill this house. For all that they represent.

THOU GREAT AND ONLY POTENTATE,

Thou hast made summer and winter, day and night;

each of these revolutions serves our welfare

and is full of thy care and kindness.

Thy bounty is seen

in the relations that train us,

the laws that defend us,

the homes that shelter us,

the food that builds us,

the raiment that comforts us,

the continuance of our health, members, senses,

understanding, memory, affection, will.

But as the stars fade before the rising sun,

Thou hast eclipsed all these benefits

in the wisdom and grace that purposed

redemption by Jesus thy Son.

Gifts and gratitude recorded ages ago on the pages of a Puritan journal. Words left behind that resonate in my heart today.

Will I join him in a chorus that echoes across time and place and circumstance? A chorus that rises up as a pleasing aroma to the Giver of all good things? May my list of the bounty take its place in the neverending song of thanks…

• Crazy But True popcorn and the sweet friends who are venturing out with a new business idea (who knew that curry could make such a yummy popcorn flavor?);
• Down comforters and being cozy under the covers;
• Anticipation of new life and a precious church body surrounding a young girl-becoming-woman as her belly swells and she prepares for the days ahead;
• Laughter and vulnerability and love amidst the brokenness as we share life stories in our Community Group;
• Eight-year-old girl chatter as I pass Madison’s room and hear two friends playing with their American Girl dolls (will the day really come when they will be too “cool” for dolls?);
• My morning cup of English Breakfast tea while the house is still dark and quiet;
• Glimpsing Caleb alone on the couch singing praise songs to his Lord (he thought no one was looking but this Mamma saw it and was deeply moved);
• Crunch of snow under my feet as I walk in the woods;
• Trying a new recipe and discovering Taco Soup as a new family favorite;
• Books that never grow old.

______________________________________________________________________________Today I’m starting the week with the ongoing “gifts list” by joining other bloggers in the great chorus of thanksgiving:

“Thus having prepared their buds against a sure winter, the wise trees stand, sleeping in the cold.”  - William Carlos Williams

The walking trail beckoned this morning and so I answered. Gentle flakes fell about me as I set out into the quiet of winter and the beauty of it took my breath away. So magical that I half-expected to meet Mr. Tumnus as I rounded the bend.

How often do we miss these moments because we’re too busy to notice or too inconvenienced by the weather conditions to care?

Perhaps the winter would seem less daunting if we spent less time complaining about it and more time soaking in the beauty of it.

‘Tis the road less traveled, my friends. Won’t you join me on it?

Mondays come fast – sometimes taking me by surprise. And the gift list has been neglected.

The simple, purposeful recording of life’s goodnesses.

I know I can be thankful without the list. There’s nothing magical about a list. It’s not the list that makes me grateful. It’s a heart tuned to the bounty all around, eyes searching to see, and hands open to receive.

And, yet, the list helps me to pause. To remember.

I forget so quickly. I move to the next thing on the horizon and sometimes fail to embrace the beauty of the thing right in front of me.  

And, so today I am back to the list. My record of the goodnesses. A testimony to God’s grace and a place for me to remember.

•  Valentine reminders of love – kid style.

• Sleeping next to my beloved and the sound of his breathing as he drifts off.
• Anonymous card sweetly delivered to remind us that we’re loved.
• Brotherly concern over little sister’s fevered brow.
• Minestrone and bread to chase away the winter chills.
• Snowy piles of boots, gloves, scarves and the like. Evidence of fun times and backyard snow forts.

• Sunday afternoon naps.
• Reading 39 Clues with the kids each night. Our read-aloud time is one of my favorite parts of the day.
• Our school and the little squeals of “Hi Mrs. McKee” as I drop off the kids. How I bask in all those hugs and greetings!
• Sunrise came a few minutes earlier this morning. The days are getting longer again!

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Joining with other bloggers to remember the bounty…

Dinner is one of our favorite family times together. Living in typical American suburbia as we do, we have to work pretty hard to protect it from the busyness of life. Sometimes we say “no” to good activities so that we can  keep this a special family time. And, even then, we don’t get to eat together EVERY night. Sometimes worthy exceptions need to be made. And, I know there will probably come a day (as they enter middle and high school) when the kids’ activities will make it hard for all of us to sit down together most nights. But, for now, it’s precious to us.

For us it is more than physical sustenance. Our dinner time  is nourishment in every way: physical, relational, mental, and spiritual. It is full bellies – well-thought menus made with wholesome ingredients lovingly prepared by a momma’s hands.

It is caring about each other –  a time to listen and share highlights from four different days. It is pause for the heart – a candle lit and soft music in the background to calm and speak “you’re home now”. 

It is soul food – opening the Word together to talk of God’s eternal food and His living waters.

But lest you think that it’s always a picture-perfect sort of night, let me assure you that it’s not. The peaceful tone can be commandeered by the antics of the Pappa… and the children happily follow.

I roll my eyes at them all. But my heart rejoices. I suppose laughter is its own kind of nourishment.

But, the evening ends with this…

… and this. So, I’ll take it!!

Happy weekend, my friends. May you and yours find true nourishment together!

What a month it had been. Our strong-willed warrior-son had been pushing at the boundaries. Trying day after day to find the edge. How far could he push us? Mrs. Y? God?

I think in some ways he was also testing his own heart. Did he even want to obey? What kind of character did he really want to pursue? What does it mean (really) to be under another’s authority?

It was an exhausting time for all us. Then came the final most difficult hurdle of all (for that season, anyway).

“If you get another warning at school this week, you won’t be allowed to go to Dalton’s sleepover.” Solemn words from father to son. Caleb knew he was serious.

Two days creeped by and there were no warnings from Mrs. Y. We rejoiced with him, relieved to have a break from the struggle.

“One more day, Buddy.” High fives on a Friday morning. Words of strength and honor uttered between them as Dad sent him off to tackle his day and his choices.

Then came 3:15 p.m. My hopeful expectation turned to sorrow as I watched him round the corner in a cloud. There would be no high fives this time. Only defeat. Eyes downcast. Shoulders slumped. “Mom, I got a warning today. Could you talk to Dad? Please don’t take away the sleepover…”

The walk home was an agonizing one. My heart teetered back and forth. Were we too harsh to tie it to the sleepover? His four best buddies would be there. They were to sleep in the backyard. It was to be his first non-family sleepover. Ahhh, but no. I knew that we had to follow-thru. He needed to feel the weight of his own choices. It was truly better for him this way.

By the time we arrived home, I knew what would have to be done. But, oh, how I wanted to give in and just let him go. Had it been up to me alone, I probably would have gone against my better judgment and given in.

Mostly out of ease. I knew it was going to be a long, hard night. The weight of it hadn’t hit him yet because he was still hoping we would reconsider. But, when the final word came down, I knew he would be distraught. The pit in my stomach revealed my angst. I really just wanted to avoid the whole, big ordeal.

But, thankfully, it wasn’t up to me alone. Rick and I were in it together. He would lead our family well, with vision for the bigger picture. And, I would be his helper, coming alongside to encourage.

Later that evening, when I came to sit with my sobbing son (it had been hours of all this emotion), I looked at him and said simply “Son, we’re following through on this because we love you. I just want you to remember that.” He looked up, unconvinced. In his mind, the most loving thing would have been to sweep it under the rug and let him go to Dalton’s. He had no idea how hard it was for us to love him beyond that to the deeper places of his developing character.  

Every mother wants her children to be happy. A lot of times the best stuff does bring them happiness. But, sometimes the best stuff is the hard stuff. It’s making them drink milk when they’d rather have soda. It’s encouraging them to read when they’d like to watch TV. It’s following through in discipline when they’d rather receive leniency. It’s looking down the road into their future when they’d rather be gratified today.

Jesus’ love is like that sometimes. Sometimes we ask for things that aren’t really best for us. Sometimes He says “no” when we’re pleading for Him to say “yes.” He reminds us that He loves us and that His way is for our best. We look up, often unconvinced.

Of course, loving like Jesus means that the truth is always coupled with grace. Sweet, unmerited favor. Even in the saddest, most disappointing of places, there is grace.

Eventually our Caleb was able receive that grace. Later that night we laughed together some and had a family night. He was still sad whenever he thought about his friends all there together and him here at home. But, he wrestled through it in the context of our love and grace (albeit imperfect love).

And, would you believe, the discipline began to bear fruit. Something was born in his growing character that weekend. Oh, he still gets warnings from time to time. But, they are fewer are farther in between now.

That exhausting season had finally come to a close.

I know this won’t be the last bout with a rebellious attitude. But, I pray that this mother’s heart will keep learning to love like Jesus: full of grace and truth. Even when the answer has to be “no.”

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Reflecting on loving like Jesus with other bloggers in Ann’s quiet corner of the internet…

“It was a hard day, Momma. I just missed you all day. I kept thinking about you and missing you.”

And then, as if to clarify the depth of it… “I even cried.”

It had been one of those days…

Turns out she missed one on her spelling test. “It was a word I knew. I don’t even know how I missed it.” Oh, sweet Madison. Sometimes we do that. We miss one even though we know better.

And, she only made it to the letter C in her jumproping. Other kids have made it all the way to Z. “I’ve been working and working on it. I even practice during recess. But I only made it to C, Mom.” Yes, darling, I know. Only to C. Sometimes the other kids pass us up and it can be so frustrating to bump into our limitations.

And, Ms. M was a little firmer today. “I was just talking. I shouldn’t have been *big sigh* but why’d she have to say it mean?” Oh dear one, it’s hard to get in trouble sometimes. It always feels mean just then, I think.

She was having one of those days when nothing seems to go right… right down to having a Clementine in her lunch AGAIN. (For the umpteenth day in a row. “Could I just have something else tomorrow? Please Mom?”)

It was the kind of day that even makes you, well, cry.

In those moments we just want to feel safe. When you’re 8-years-old, that’s what Momma does. So we had hot cocoa, snuggled on the couch in silence for a long while and then talked to our Jehovah-Rapha, the Lord who heals. The One who mends the broken heart and salvages the sad day. He who already knew and cared about this little girl with her pile of disappointments. He who has the power to infuse joy into the hopeless places.

It only took half-an-hour. But it changed the rest of her day. Me and my Madison in the quiet of mid-day.

Snowy winds blew outside but she was safe now. And it made all the difference.