I have had a latte, a sippy cup, Mike’s Hard Lemonade, cinnamon bread, a potty seat, a farm set, diapers, and a meal dropped off at my doorstep over the course of three days.

People, there is nothing greater in this world than a Doorstep Present.

Or maybe I just think so because gifts are the way I feel loved. Whatever it is, I am grateful for these tangible signs of kindness, care and provision from my friends. I feel incredibly loved. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The five of us are keeping afloat due to the massive prayers being sent heavenward on our behalf. I swear a few of you quit praying as much Saturday night—the banner was let down, so to speak—because the 3 year old woke up at 12:30am and then the 1 year old at 3:30am and Liv never went back to sleep after 4am. Sleeplessness is no joke. So keep praying. I know God’s grace is sustaining us. That, and of course Doorstep Presents. You can keep bringing those, too. They don’t count less if I’ve mentioned how much I love them, I promise.

We have our work cut out for us in finding a new normal. “Normal” in foster care isn’t really a standard, however. So the goal is more to stay on top of duties and responsibilities while still loving each other with gentle and generous spirits. Again, please pray for us. We need it.

Three year olds talk A LOT. And I only understand roughly half of what this particular one is saying.

Throwing sippies is a thing. Who knew it was so pleasurable for little boys to throw their cups?

I woke up every time someone coughed last night, which was a lot, and then remained anxiously awake for the next 30-60 minutes.

Is this the moment where I take up drinking coffee in the morning?

By the time Jeremy got out of the shower all three children were dressed. Why yes, I am patting myself on the back right now.

Livia’s internal motivation could power the earth if we could harness it on the rare moments it shows up with vim and vigor. I can’t take credit for dressing her; she did that herself in record time.

Also, Livia is an excellent big sister. Even though she does forget that the three year old is terrified of monster and continues to talk about them.

These little people are new to me and this whole gig is going to take some getting used to.

I feel like a babysitter right now.

I am trying very very very hard to live in the moment, which means not worrying about the future. A planner by nature, I can’t do so in this situation. I need to be a mom and also support their mom. I need to be flexible, respectful, easy to work with and knowledgeable.

I need to love people the way Jesus loves people.

I totally can’t do that. So as we take [pausing to take the baby’s hand out of the trashcan] on this giant responsibility, we ask that you pray for us constantly. We need it. We know God hears and gives grace. He loves these little bitties more than anyone does and we need him to impart that godly love to us. Thanks a million times over for praying.

The sun peeked out from the gloomy clouds this morning, lighting up the trees in the backyard. I loved the play of shadows from the houses, the bright colors of the autumn leaves, and the sun at it’s low angle first thing in the morning, so I ran for my camera.

I chose to ignore my Facebook account last week. Some of you think this is dumb and unnecessary while others of you think social media is of the devil. So let’s just say there is a wide variety of opinions on the matter.

I read my Facebook newsfeed quite faithfully because it connects me to people. I love to know what’s going on in my friends’ lives and I find it completely fascinating. In some ways it grounds me and also equips me for real life connections. All good there. But I am also too easily influenced by everyone else’s thoughts. When a friend posts a link to a great article, I really want to read it. It sits in my brain as being a matter of utmost importance and I end up adopting the battles other people find significant. My brain started getting tired. My filter that separates “what you find important” from “what I find important” is a very flexible one. This serves me well in real life (as an ESFJ) and I will be a great listening ear and fight in your corner when you need me to. But just because someone posts an interesting thought or article doesn’t mean they need me. And sometimes I need a break from all the influences.

During my week off of Facebook and Instagram and People.com and the like—don’t laugh, or do; yes, do—I had less to do online and definitely felt the grip of What’s happening? lessen in my mind. I had to make sure to text and email friends privately to keep up with them rather than feel connected by reading their statuses. I didn’t read about Miley Cyrus for one straight week (hot diggity dog, what a relief!). I spent a lot of time working on photography, which is the way it should be during my busiest season.

Will I change my online reading habits in the future? I’m hemming and hawing on deciding anything. One one hand the addictive need I have to get on Facebook—and trust me, it is addictive—is not something I want to invite back into my life. On the other hand, I’ve missed keeping up on your lives. My guess is that I will struggle to figure out a helpful, life-affirming balance for myself. What I do know is that taking a break every so often is a beneficial choice for me.

If you’ve been reading the Prairie Box for some time now then you’re well-acquainted with the fact that I have one daughter and that Jeremy and I are foster parents. If you’ve been reading for a really long time, then you know that we want more kids in our family. Featured on A Musing Maralee today is a tidbit about the baby we wanted and lost to miscarriage in the fall of 2006.

Writing a letter to that dreamed-for, hoped-for baby was not an easy task. But it was a really helpful, cathartic exercise. I’ve lumped the loss of that baby in with the subsequent years of infertility and it’s become a giant ball of yucky grief that I shove to the back of my mind. Remembering the miscarriage and writing a letter reminded me that my pregnancy involved one particular person at a particular point in time. I was pregnant! And it was great! I won’t say that one letter will relieve me from the giant grief ball, but it’s nice to have it unravel a bit more over time and, in doing so, lose it’s power over me.

**The flowers featured here were given to me by my awesome husband. I should write a post sometime about how he loves physical touch and I love gifts, and how I keep bringing him little presents from the store and he wants to hug me a lot. Fifteen years of marriage, folks, and we’re just now starting to figure out this love language thing.

I’m taking a week off of Facebook to see what it’s like to be a little less plugged-in. My general feeling after these first few days is that 1) I miss knowing what my friends are up to and I’m forced to find other ways to interact with them and 2) taking a break is nice.

I’m also forgoing my routine time-wasting reading online which includes a gamut of entertainment, celebrity and pop-culture news. I find myself poring over other news sites to find out the gossip I’m missing. Genius, I know. The thing is I’m way too lazy to explore much online—I’m a total creature of habit—so the end result is that currently I’m not online as much. That’s a good thing. Really, it is.

I also said I’d give up blogging this week. That was stupid so I’m blogging anyway. This blog is a happy home for my photos and words and has been for a long time now. No need to give it up this week.

Finally, I’ve been writing down pseudo Facebook statuses today. It’s odd how Facebook has affected the way I think and now I find myself wanting to share brief moments of my day with a wide audience of people. Weird, right? Here are my instead-of-Facebook statuses:

12:06pm
There’s a reason why people like southern California. Case in point, weather.com: Clitherall, MN, 43 degrees. Port Townsend, WA, 48 degrees. Lincoln, NE, 54 degrees. The Disneyland Resort: 79 degrees.

2:14pm
In case you were wondering, only children are used to having the WHOLE couch to themselves while watching cartoons. #getouttamyspace

7:55pm
How many parents have to tell their kids, “No, you can’t have a canvas in the bathtub”? #alwaysanartist

Yesterday I became a Jury Duty Reject. I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed my name hadn’t been called for the 12 members of the jury and two alternates. Where did I go wrong? Clearly I had to relay the truth in court that day. Was it the question I answered about possibly having sympathy for a potential witness? Or the part where it was revealed I’m both a mom and a foster mom? Or was it the confirmation that I have a degree in education? Who knows? Jury selection is not my area of expertise. However, today I find myself itching to be back in a courtroom. What a fascinating process.

When we potential jurors filed into the courtroom yesterday the defendant was sitting at a table with his attorney. In that moment, you are faced with your own prejudices, your own shortcomings, your own preconceived notion of right and wrong, democracy, fairness and the like. All these thoughts, compounded by the newness of the experience—for me at least—was dizzying. And electrifying. In short, I felt like passing out when I realized the gravity of the situation. And I am not your typical damsel in distress. I thought I was prepared for this moment. In all fairness, the charges alone involved some graphic and disturbing details. Surely I was not the only juror unsettled by it all.

Another feeling arose as the day went on: pride. Like, I’m proud to be an American. I was proud to be a part of this incredible court system where the defendant truly did get to be innocent until proven guilty and where the jurors vowed to try the accused based on evidence only presented in court. And the whole 12 jurors thing? Brilliant. It’s not just a judge or just one person or even three using level-headed common sense. It’s 12 people. Also, these people? My fellow Nebraskans. Again, the sense of pride was strong. From all careers and income levels and job experiences, these 36 people (plus a few leftover for alternates if needed) vowed to tell the truth. In the courtroom I heard some people admit very hard truths while being questioned by the attorneys and judge. It was an amazing sense of having a level playing field—something I’ve never seen so blatantly practiced anywhere else in my normal everyday life.

As I took a lunch break yesterday I prayed hard for wisdom. I both hoped to be chosen for that jury and hoped to be passed by. But I knew if I was chosen, I’d potentially have to make some challenging decisions regarding a person’s guilt. The pressure momentarily felt overwhelming until I recalled that God already knows the truth. As important as it is to have a panel of jurors determine someone’s guilt or innocence, the final judgement will be far more important. A guilty party could walk free if the right evidence isn’t presented, but a man cannot hide from his sins. A day is coming where all people will be judged and a righteous and perfect God will do the judging.

He will bring justice to the poor of the people; He will save the children of the needy. (Psalm 72:4)

I long for the day this world will be set right again.

My house, my mess!

My photos accompany Maralee Bradley’s words on Her View From Home. Go check it out: What Would Jesus Dust?

I shot images in my house today for an upcoming project.

This picture reminds me of Jeremy’s new habits for a healthy lifestyle. His breakfast of choice every day? Oatmeal. And lunch every day? Fresh vegetables (with a dash of onion powder) and a little fruit. Add to that routine a four to five mile walk several times a week and we’re all seeing some great results. The cutting board reminds me of how proud I am of his hard work.

I cannot stand eating the same thing day in, day out, so no, I will not be attempting this diet. But it’s amazing how such a positive change affects the whole household. I’m inspired by my husband. And I also happen to love him a ton. xxoo