It was the last place I expected to get a bit of preaching.
“God is a big God.”
My rheumatologist paused from the paperwork he had been filling out and looked at me as he uttered that truth. I wholeheartedly agreed with him and continued to discuss the point at hand. The point is this: my arthritis is in a remission of sorts.
I’m not really sure what qualifies as remission, so I feel uncomfortable giving a blanket statement from a medical standpoint. But it’s true that my joints are not inflamed right now, and they haven’t been for months and months. I discontinued injections, my treatment for RA, just before Thanksgiving last year. At the time I stopped the medication in order to treat an infection (you can’t take one drug for suppressing your immune system and another for encouraging it to work—they cancel each other out) and lo and behold, I didn’t need to go back on the RA meds. For eight months now I’ve been in what appears to be remission.
If my joints begin to swell tomorrow morning I will order my prescription and be grateful for the respite. I am open-handedly thanking God for this break from pain and the need to take a powerful drug.
Open hands. Receiving our big God’s gifts and understanding that all the good and bad life offers is not mine to choose. I want to ride the waves of life by faith, knowing that the rain falls on the righteous and the unrighteous, trusting that God’s big plan for this world is a good one, and enjoying—with open hands—the blessings that he gives me, even if it means that tomorrow this particular blessing is gone.
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow, blessings all mine with ten thousand beside. Great is thy faithfulness.
For Livia Day—our annual celebration of adopting Livia—we do something as a family. Though our girl really loves getting presents, we’re thoroughly presented out by the time June 26 rolls around and boy am I glad we mark the occasion with activities instead of things. This year, after hearing Liv ask to light a fire multiple times, we opted to roast s’mores on Livia Day. Nothing says crazy new neighbors quite like a fire in almost 100 degree heat. Our daughter, however, loved it. She’s become a professional s’more maker after Camp Sonshine, though in all honesty, it’s best to stand at least five feet back when she’s holding an 18 inch metal skewer with a flaming marshmallow on the end.
Lessons learned while making s’mores with our eight year old:
- We can be too uptight and controlling. Liv didn’t fall into the fire nor did she burn anything. We’re learning to let her do more things on her own. Sometimes parenting isn’t about what you say, it’s about keeping your mouth shut.
- Marshmallow and chocolate wash out of fabric. They stain it, too. Who cares. Life is short!
- Two marshmallows combined with a few small squares of chocolate in between a broken graham cracker is one marshmallow too many. (Pass the Tums.)
- The fire pit should be moved off the patio area and into the open yard. Yeah, that seems obvious. Nothing caught on fire that shouldn’t have, so all’s well that ends well.
Remember that one time where I posted an image and said I’d post more in the “next” post? Ahem. Right. So here I am, pretty much two months later and I’m finally posting more shots from the Kluvers photo shoot on January 1. However, you must forgive the lateness, not on my behalf but because the Kluvers are just that fun and great a family that I can’t help but smile when I look at them.
Without further ado, here’s Kyree of The Many Faces, Jenni, Kirk, and Murphy the Adorable.
With miniature Drumsticks in hand, Livia and I wander the teeny creek behind our house. We admire the trees growing almost sideways from the wet soil and wonder where to put our feet so we don’t sink into the water. We lick the chocolate ice cream and crunch the cones down to nothing in the late evening light.
Livia (age 8) and her buds Simon (age 4) and Ian (age 2) have been playing really well together. Gone are the power struggles between firstborns that we used to see a year ago and instead they’ve been doing all the classic neighborhood kid games together. Yes, they are doing this right before we move to a new neighborhood, so it’s bittersweet, but still we’re all glad that our kids are greatly enjoying each other.
On Saturday the kids had free reign over our hose and a deep bucket. They entertained themselves for hours on end and charmed my socks off when they asked for crayons and white paper to make signs for washing other people’s clothes in order to make money. It was a creative move, I’ll give them that. Some soap ended up in the large bucket—they washed Liv’s scooter and some of her clothing instead—and we think it hastened the death of a poor bird later that afternoon. I reached in the bucket to grab what I believed was the last piece of clothing and grabbed feathers instead. But don’t think about that any longer; enjoy some kid pics instead!
The day begins in a hectic fashion, more in my heart than anywhere else. Though I readily admit that pushing a child into the school day—I said put your pants on!—can be a lesson in patience. I feel the stress of the coming move acutely and keep trying to remember that God doesn’t want me to worry. Why do I forget that so easily? It’s all in his hands. Remember, remember, remember.
I grab my camera and greet the sunlit roses, orange with blushes of pink. Some are bright in the morning light, others tucked back deep in shadow. The clematis likes to use them as a trellis. After attempting to train them elsewhere, I let the flowers intermingle and make friends. A few minutes of fresh air, practicing my craft gives me years of life. The stress begins to dissipate and I recall who I am and, more importantly, Who has created me.
Today is a day for beauty, a day for praise. There’s nothing to fear. And a lot to remember.
World, this is my nephew Tafari. He is unbelievably precious and adorable and wonderful and delightfully drooly and I love him with great love. He has a dimple. I’ll show it to you soon.
When the sun starts to dip towards the western horizon its rays filter through the trees in the park across the street. It is the most beautiful and magical moment of the day for me. Long trunk shadows reach across the grass, little dandelion puffs become nature’s own disco balls. All of creation worships the One who made it.
I’ve been blessed by this view for ten and a half years now. A new view awaits me next month, one that involves cottonwoods that rustle gently in the evening breezes.
For those who are interested in such things, my own little creative space on the world wide web will remain the View from the Prairie Box. The title has become as much a part of me as my own name, and really, fields of corn and prairie grasses are never too far away when you live in this city. The Box itself will change in order to accommodate a growing family with growing needs. Oh goodness, changes are afoot. I’m a girl who enjoys routine and the safety of a known life, but God is calling us to something new and different. Here we go.
The New Year started out right with a photo shoot of the Kluver family on January 1st. Why yes, now that I write that I realize that I’m a little behind with this blog post. I love the results from our shoot, though, so this definitely falls under the better-late-than-never clause. And man, do I miss my friends Jenni, Kirk and Kyree. A few weeks after our session they moved right on down to Birmingham, Alabama, where sweet tea reigns and the dogwoods bloom. Lincoln’s loss is Birmingham’s gain! I hope the folks down there realize what an amazing family they get to enjoy.
The rest of the shoot will show up in the next post as I have a packing party to prepare for. Unlike the Kluvers I’m just moving across town. My tea will remain unsweetened. But I will totally be planting a dogwood in the new place…
