introduction

I'm beginning to realize how often we meet something new in our day-to-day lives. New people, new places, new food, new challenges... so frequently we are being introduced to an unknown.

Sometimes we are changed very little by the experience - it is simply a blip on the day's radar and passes without much more thought.

Other introductions press their way into the frames of our lives, moving walls and setting up residence. These introductions are usually more intense, more difficult, more joyful...

It's my abundant pleasure to introduce Ruby Suzanne Burley - the newest resident in our little world. God gave her to us at 6:10am on February 2, 2011 (in the middle of a blizzard). Our little 21.5 inch, 8lb 2oz bundle has rewritten the fabric of our lives, just as her two beautiful sisters did before her. Nothing will be the same again.

smiles

A beautiful princess











My girls











Sweet face, with a mouthful of sweet donut











Happiness is... a cider donut :)











sisterly love











She's a goofball. I'm sure it's ALL from her daddy.

order of events

Jesus replied, “All who love me will do what I say. My Father will love them, and we will come and make our home with each of them."
John 14:23

I wonder, often, about the little roadmap of cause and effect I have drawn up in my own little brain.

How frequently do I wait for something to happen in order that I might respond to it?

Upon examination, I find that being the something that happens doesn't even blip on the radar of this little roadmap.

Why not?

According to my Jesus - the only impetus I need to act is love. My love for Him will move me to act. My love for others moves me to act. It is not simply a matter of waiting.

Parenting littles easily becomes a game of responses.

Messes are made - I clean them up.
Noses are runny - I wipe.
Sisters are fighting - I teach and train.
Bellies are empty - I feed.

But tonight, I am reminded that I don't truly clean, wipe, teach, train, feed, or any of another thousand mommy-verbs, because of messes, noses, sisters or bellies. I do these things because I love Jesus. Because I love my husband, because I love my daughters and the little one who kicks my ribs.

Tonight, I am reminded that cause and effect, the order of events, is a little more tangled - and beautiful - than I've led myself to believe of late.

As parents, we do things that we know will, over time, produce good fruit. Because of love, not because it immediately feels right and good.

Sometimes, these things bring tears to the eyes of our children, which also brings tears to our own eyes. Because of love, not because we are wrong.

Tonight, I am lifting my eyes to the hills, remembering from where my Help comes.

I am remembering that my actions need to come from my love for Christ, for my family, for my neighbors.

I write it on my heart that I only love because He first loved me.

simply pictures

SUCH a beautiful smile












Lovely and serious














exploring at the gardens














hellooo, Daddy!














two girls and a sheep

deck the halls...?

Apparently there are ONLY 89 more days until Christmas.

Personally, I find it a wee bit bizarre to count down to Christmas in September - it's like you're deliberately trying to fill yourself with stress and worry. Happy Holidays, indeed.

However - I made a LOT of Christmas presents last year - and though I thoroughly enjoyed myself, I did worry that I might give myself early-onset arthritis from crocheting so much in such a short time.

So this year, I am "starting early" by finally finishing up the Christmas stockings I made for our family last year. (Yes, I am Scrooge - we had no! stockings! for the first 7 Christmases of our marriage...) Last year, I made them. This year, they have names. And I still have a whole year (and 89 days) to make a fifth stocking for Newest Little Burley.

Check it out:











Mark and I are Christmas grumps who choose not to spend money on each other - but we give the girls a few gifts, and our extended families exchange gifts. I'm gonna see how many presents I can make this year - and hopefully repurpose a lot of material, use up some of my scrap fabric, and have a (moderately) green Christmas.

The list so far:

alphabet bean bags for the girls (sew)
a hopscotch playmat for the girls (sew/quilt)
superhero capes for each girl (sew)
stuffed/beanbag "monster" doll for each girl (sew)
flannel/feltboard for each girl, travel-sized (craft)
a paintbrush roll for my art-teacher-brother (sew)
a crochet hook roll for my sister-in-law (sew)
a scarf (or two) for my sister (crochet)

I'm a little stuck on what I could possibly make for my nephews (3 1/2, 5 1/2 and 7 1/2) - they are definitely starting to have ideas about what is COOL and what is NOT... and while I'd *love* to make their gifts - I also want them to enjoy them. Ideas?

I think I can make most of the sewing projects from fabric I already have (AWESOME) - and I've already started playing with colors and cutting stuff up. Hopefully, getting started now will help with the Big Scary Christmas Countdown.

Anybody else getting ready for the holidays early?

u turns

North. South.
Up. Down.
Right. Left.

It's fairly safe to say that everything and everyone has a direction. It might not be purposeful. It might not even be something of which we are aware. But the direction is there. We all point, orbit, track, follow.

Directions exist as ambidextrous forces in our lives... on one hand, direction is cherished and craved and sought after. It generates security and purpose. On the other, direction can remove our sense of autonomy, make us feel as though we are riding the waves of a force far to large to transcend.

When we are comfortable with the path - directional living is desirable. We are proud of it, we wear it on our sleeves for all to see. And even when we are not comfortable, we may cling to a path simply because it is familiar. At least we know where we are going.

It's when the path swerves unexpectedly out of sight that we are unnerved.

Here's the catch - it's my experience that the path can, will, must swerve. Directions change suddenly, the road falls away, storms gather and darken the course. It is going to happen.

I spent the first days, weeks, months of motherhood adjusting to the path upon which I was suddenly called to walk. I was responsible for another person - the task of keeping her safe and healthy was a track laid before me, a gorgeous and treacherous road of joy and accountability. The rocky thoroughfare of early parenthood gradually became familiar - I adjusted and learned and adapted to my new surroundings.

Then the road swerved. While I had spent my earliest moments of parenthood slogging through lesson after lesson on How to Be a Steward of Another Person, I realized that I would spend the remainder of my life as a mother learning to give up my responsibility, to relinquish that control.

Similarly, we spend the first few decades of our lives as growing our abilities in decision-making, taking responsibility for ourselves, controlling our choices and our lives... we live out the rest of our years grasping for the understanding that we cannot possibly control everything. Learning to hand over the reins. Discovering that perhaps life is not so much about choosing a direction as it is about choosing how we travel along the directions laid before us.

East. West.
Forward. Backward.
Over. Under.

God has given me the ability to weigh my choices, make decisions, and follow paths. I am accountable for these. But more so, it is the heart - the why and the how behind the scenes - that will define me.

I like knowing where I am headed. Clear views of the road ahead provide comfort. And yet, I know that my path will veer into the unknown. By His grace, I will prove myself a seasoned traveler, and know that in following Him, my path will be made straight.

scavenging

My youngest daughter is a scavenger. A predator of treasures fallen and ignored by others, she hunts on all fours to lay claim to precious bits and pieces, to make them her own. Stray breakfast remnants, forgotten carpet fuzzies, strands of loose string. No one can eat within a 20-foot-radius - her radar picks up the frequency of the cracker box being opened, the refrigerator door sealing itself shut, the crunch of the pretzel bag being clipped closed. She prowls, scours, seeks... and fiercely protects her findings.

It's humorous - and in a way, oddly encouraging to me. I watch her sift through the "stuff" to find snippets of value and I am heartened. I learn from my 11-month-old daughter that there are treasures to be found and cherished, if only we would look for them.

And so, when I find myself frustrated by another tantrum, wondering what strategy to employ - wondering if it even matters... I remind myself to search. Toss aside the tears and the screaming, remove the selfishness and stubbornness... and find the glimmer of a desire to be pursued. Perhaps my toddler has wrapped this desire in her human nature, and it's been twisted into an ugly fit. But her need to be pursued, to know that someone is loving her with intent and purpose and determination, THAT is from God. In that piece, she reflects His image.

And when I am frustrated and disgusted by my own limitations, beaten down by the fact that yet another day has passed where I cannot count the number of times I have fallen slid run stumbled turned away from His grace... I stop and look. I find a piece of myself, however small, however deeply buried, that reflects an image of God. And I take heart in knowing that even though I can distort His beauty and holiness into something virtually unrecognizable - a glimmer of Him might still be found if I scavenge for it.

Tomorrow, as my daughter zooms around, searching for the lost and buried valuables of our living room carpet and kitchen floor, I will chuckle, and be comforted the she knows. It's there to be found - all you have to do is look.

reflections

Ever catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror - really catch the image - and find yourself surprised at the person looking back at you?

For me, the surprises lately have been things like,

"I wonder how long my hair has been doing that." and

"Where did those crinkly eye-corners come from??" and

"Is that snot or yogurt on my shoulder? Does it matter?"

The outward certainly catches me off-guard at times... but I try to pretend like that's a good thing, because it must mean that I'm not staring at myself in the mirror constantly. Right??

However - I also find myself surprised at the reflections I catch inwardly - the voices in my head and the instinctual responses that pop up. How startling it is to realize that specific actions in others bring out very strong (and not always so positive) gut-level-reactions inside me. Most of the time I am in control of myself, and witnesses would never guess that an interior battle is raging.

And the question comes to mind... which defines my character - the things I think and do not do or say... or the things I choose to put forward? Which is the true reflection of my heart - the unconscious, sinful, human natureness that swims through my mind and heart... or is it the deliberate, thoughtful choice that is made in my words and in my actions?

~~~~~

Pure UPDATE:

1. Meriel is 2 shakes away from walking. She stands up in the middle of the floor and growl-giggles like a happy baby bear. She loves to clap and wave and splash and will eat ANYTHING you let her put in her mouth (literally).

2. Hazel is (and has been since January) fully potty-trained save nap and nighttimes (she still sleeps in a crib). Such a big girl - she cracks me up daily with her Hazel-isms. She loves her little sister and is learning to share her space and toys... it's a daily lesson.

3. The girls could not be more different from each other - one cautious, one explorer. One shy, one outgoing. One picky eater, one vacuum. One needing constant encouragement, one whose drive cannot be stopped. And they still can crack each other up - and sweet baby giggles (Hazel's high pitched, little girl voice, and Meriel's sweet, deep baby cackle) are the best things I hear in my days.

4. I've MISSED this blog - and I hope to visit more often. Days have been busy here, but this place keeps me sane.

not in kansas anymore

My life is not perfect. The cast of characters is human - flawed and real - and the setting is a world, created perfectly, that has been shattered and awkwardly glued back together.

My life is not perfect - but it is blessed. The path I walk is paved with gifts; it is bordered by my warm home, clean water, abundant food. The dust along this path bears the footprints of those who walk alongside me - my husband, my daughters, my family, my friends. The air is full of emotion: it rings with laughter, echoes with tears, and bubbles with lively chatter.

Why is it so easy to walk this beautiful path with a focus far too narrow? I see clouds instead of the blue sky behind them. I notice cracks in the pavement rather than the intricate beauty of the brickwork. It is too bright, too noisy, too dull, too lonely... Too, too, too.

Mamahood has of late left me feeling a bit used-up. The constancy of need can be exhausting and thankless. I found myself moping inside my head, longing to be pursued - not out of need, but out of desire. I looked and searched and hunted and found no clear sign of pursuit. I pouted.

It was when I sat still and watched my life without looking for anything that I saw it.

Hazel gazes into my eyes and tells me they are blue. She brushes hair out of my face and smiles at me with pure delight.

Meriel watches me while she nurses - dark blue eyes, almost gray, framed by thick lashes... she drinks me in with her gaze.

God is watching me through their faces - it is not just my daughters, but my God who is drinking me in, watching with delight. He is using the people in my life, always, to show me His love.

Life doesn't always look the way I expect it to. Rarely, in fact. But I belong to a God Who knows the desires of my heart. I don't have to go looking for them. Besides - if I have to look farther than my own backyard, I never really lost them to begin with.

transparency

It's a good thing toddlers and infants don't play poker.

Um, for lots of reasons - but I'm thinking mostly about the fact that there is NO poker face whatsoever. I can virtually read the thoughts of my girls on their faces - their eyes, their lips, the crinkles in their little foreheads... adorable little open books.

Frustration, delight, fear, surprise, joy, sadness, laughter and love transport themselves directly from my daughters' hearts to their faces. Their emotions are real, they are raw, and they are available.

And as a result, those girls of mine, they are known. They are loved - they have been since I saw two blue lines, and they will be until I take my last breath and beyond - but they may will not always make themselves known to me.

How often are we truly simultaneously known and loved? How often are we gifted with the opportunity to really know and love someone else? We learn at an altogether too-young age to mask our emotions and present a version of ourselves to the world. We take advantage of chances to change that identity, that persona, as we grow - we "try on" different costumes of self.

And so, as we wade through days littered equally with temper tantrums, crocodile tears, belly laughs and sticky kisses, days where a little poker face would go a long way... I remind myself that they will soon learn to choose what I know. They will guard secrets and cover their true feelings.

So today, I praise God for their innocent transparency. It is a gift I will not toss aside.

the girls

reality

Gloomy gray clouds, heavy with rain.
Blades of grass, once brittle and brown, now an emerald carpet.
Colorful blocks scattered on the floor, a tall tower knocked down by a powerful princess.
Swirly steam rising from my hand-painted mug.
Numbers, bright red and blurry, on the face of my alarm clock.
Rosy cheeks, tousled baby-fine hair and soft, warm arms around my neck.

My reality is often based upon what I can see. I define, label, describe and analyze with my eyes. The world becomes pictures - even things I cannot see, have never seen - my mind draws up images and files them away.

I want to see it to believe it.

And though a picture may well be worth a thousand words - they are often misleading, easily manipulated and at times downright false. It bothers me a bit that this is true, until I realize that I play this game as well as anyone. I paint pictures for people - in my tidied up, vacuumed home (that is normally littered with toys and carpet fuzzies) - with a touch of make-up, a little mousse and a splash of perfume (those who see Katie sans-mascara are true friends indeed) - and in what I choose to be part of my persona on Facebook or my blog (there is no "backspace" button in real life).

So I catch myself wondering what is real. What is true? Do I define myself? Do others define me? Is it what I do, what I say, how I act? All of the above? Or none?

I'm not sure if anyone aside from God, even me, knows my true heart. He alone knows all the fears, motivations, dreams, desires, regrets, words left unsaid and actions left undone. When I imagined what He would see when He looks at me, I felt a little nauseous. There's a reason I don't let other people know everything about me...

Until I realized that while He sees all those things - He also sees me through a curtain of sinless, perfect blood. Clean and unblemished, He sees Jesus. That stopped me in my tracks. No matter what my eyes tell me, no matter what pictures I paint for others, no matter what my reality is or seems to be... I am whole and saved and clean.

The rest of it matters - I don't believe God created this world and this life for us and made it completely meaningless - but it only matters because of who He is, and who that makes me.

coming

There are thoughts. I want to put them into words. It's coming. Just not yet. :)

In the meantime...

A smiley little Meriel - whose smile belies the torment raging through her brain as she is so! close! to! crawling!











And Hazel, wearing a swim diaper over a swimsuit over her clothes, 10 or 11 bows in her hair and lip gloss in hand/mouth. Ready for the day!! (And yes, that is a large stuffed frog on the arm of our couch.)

they might not sleep, but they are beautiful

Crying and screaming and not-sleeping has begun again. So I thought posting pictures of my pretty girls would make me feel better. Enjoy!

dry dry desert (UPDATED)

I am parched.
It is 2:36am. Hazel has been awake and crying for over an hour. I've been in twice - she is not sick or scared. Just awake, and for whatever reason, fighting sleep. I really hate to admit it, but I have no compassion left.
I am dry.
It's been almost 2 solid years of routine sleep struggle. Night wakings. Fighting naps. Crying it out. Hours spent awake in the cold, quiet middle of the night. Desperately trying to soothe your child to sleep while worrying about creating bad habits.
I've got nothing left.
I've tried every strategy (that I've read about or heard of).
At this point - the nighttime crying begins, and my skin just crawls. Part of me still just dies that my baby is not happy, not resting. The rest of me - is just SO tired. It is exhausted and raw and angry and frustrated at failing over and over and over.
I just want the crying to stop.
Because there is another baby in the house who will wake up soon and need to be fed. She is not ready to night-wean yet. Between the two, sleep is too elusive. It is difficult to find reason and sanity at 3am when your child has been screaming for hours.
I want my daughter to be rested. I want her to sleep well.
I want to be rested. I want to sleep well.
I want to give the best to my girls - and I don't do that when I am crabby and tired in the small small hours of the morning.
I am ashamed that it makes me angry to hear her continue to cry.
I carry so much guilt for that anger.
I feel so dry, so parched.

***UPDATED***
Even as I returned to bed after writing this, listening to Hazel cry, I realized that what I wrote was not completely true.
Yes, I feel angry in the middle of the night. I am frustrated and confused and angry.
But mostly, I think my anger stems from feeling so heartbroken and helpless that I cannot prevent my daughter's tears or give her the rest she needs. I feel that I should have the power to fix it for her.
It's physically painful for a mama to lay in bed and listen to her baby cry... I just want to go in and make it all better. The problem is that my going in doesn't necessarily make it all better - at least not for very long.
Because I cannot FIX it, and because I don't feel that I handle this trial very gracefully, I wonder about my ability to be mama to more than the two kiddos I have. And I know that I *want* more. So it terrifies me to think that I might not be "cut out" for being mama to more than two. That I might not really be capable, not able to handle it.
Probably not rational, but there it is.
So thanks for your kind words, and for reading my mid-night sob story. We are awake and smiling this morning, praying and looking for a better night tonight.

glimpses (updated to avoid confusion)

Life today *these days* is full of little sneak-peeks.
Movie trailers.
Ultrasounds. *(NOT MINE, just in general, in the world, you know)*
Coming Soon.
We can barely contain ourselves for all the wanting! to know! what's coming!
Generally, I like to know what's on the horizon - but I appreciate surprises and love a good sneak-peek.
My favorites are the glances and glimmers God gives me in my family.
I catch a vision of my eldest as a teenager - a strong, beautiful young woman with a sensitive heart and a passionate spirit.
I spy a shadow of my youngest, growing up with a love of life and a heart for others - her sparkly eyes an open window to the joy in her soul.
I see my husband as the father of those lovely teenage girls, love pouring out of his very being, consumed with pride and joy and wonder at the blessing of being entrusted with these creations of His.
I catch a glimpse of the woman I may grow into - I feel layers being shed, feel myself being molded and shaped and groomed - and occasionally I notice that my reflection is a little less of the me that was, and a little more of the me that is His.
Those images are tantalizing and sweet - and they add fuel to tired days... but as beautiful as they are, they do not compare to the moments of today. What strikes me most is that the more I stare into their faces today, the more I take note of the moment as it passes, the more I live and love NOW... the more He gives me of the future.
It is our ability to be content in any circumstance, to find joy in tough moments, to zero in on true gifts - good and perfect gifts from above... it is our ability to live in Christ's grace today that gives us hope and peace for tomorrow.
I just love those little sneak-peeks...

just bring me a cheese plate... and some multigrain crackers to go with it

The inside of my head is not a place I want to be right now.

It's whiny in there.

I'm having a really difficult time figuring out what's actually bothering me - because chances are good that it's not any of the minutiae buzzing around my brain like obnoxious little mosquitoes.

I've been swatting at them - and every once in awhile, I kill one or two. But quite a few have managed to get in a nice little bite, and suddenly I'm trying not to itch. And - ohmygranny - once I start scratching, things go downhill quickly.

The mosquito bites inside of my head are telling me all kinds of things about myself and what I'm not doing. What I can't do (for various reasons), what I should be doing, and what's keeping me from those things. They're telling me about the people around me - who cares and how much and how I can tell just from what is done/said and what is not done/said. They're chattering nonsense about needing and deserving and right and wrong and on and on...

I'm feeling all kinds of things that are, quite honestly, based entirely in this world - this broken world with my self-centered self caring too much about earthly things and not enough about the eternal.

I want to do all things without complaining or arguing (Phil. 2:14) and I know that if I am the victim/witness of actual sin, I am called to restore my brother gently and carefully (Galatians 6:1)... but I often find those to be difficult lines to walk.

Right now... I want to be held accountable - to put my struggles in the open and not hide them, and allow others to restore me gently.

In the meantime - you may just find me sitting around, staring at my mosquito bites, trying not to scratch, and munching on the cheese that came with my whine.

no use crying over spilled...

Some days I feel a bit full. On the verge of overflow, to be exact. Rather like a cup that might "runneth over" - but not in the best way. In the "I'm Not Sure How Gracefully I Can Handle One More Challenging Thing Today" kind of way.

I imagine adding ice cubes to a drink... the level of the liquid rises a bit with each cube. Add too many too fast - and the drink will spill over the top. It's inevitable.

Yesterday felt like one of those days:
We started out with a really rough night - very tired mama and very tired girls. (clunk-clunk... a few ice cubes)
Girls who had both started coughing - out of nowhere - in the middle of the night. (clunkety - clunk... a couple more)
Poor, fussy, teething Meriel - just didn't feel like herself all day (clunk)
Hazel's running a low fever (clunk)
A wet-pants accident in the high chair at lunchtime - very rare these days, and therefore all the more frustrating to this mama... (clunk)
Naptime struggles with both girls (clunky - clunk)

You get the idea. Before too long, I felt myself starting to spill over the edges. And as I tried to catch myself, hold it all in, control the spillage... I realized something.

Maybe it's not so much about trying to not spill over, or not be spilled by someone/something. Because -let's face it - the ice cubes are gonna come. Life is going to hand us challenges and tough moments - some bigger than others, but even enough tiny ice cubes pile up to overflow a cup. So trying to NOT spill might be a bit futile.

Perhaps it's about what comes spilling out. If my heart is full of grace and patience and my mind is full of the words of my Father - THOSE will spill out. But if my heart is focused inward, if I am playing the martyr, if my mind is busy with MY wants and desires... then ugliness will trickle (or gush!) over the edges of my cup.

For out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks. (Matthew 12:34b)

So today - I will try to relinquish my attempt at controlling the ice cubes and the spillage... and just focus on what I'm filling myself up with. And if/when I fail... I will fall back onto the grace of Jesus, and begin again with new mercies tomorrow.

my talented daughter

would you like fries with that?

What if life were like a restaurant, and you could simply order things off a menu and have them brought to you on platters?

I'm not talking about stuff - but experiences.

Tired? You could order up a Good Night's Sleep Appetizer - your choice of featherbed or memory foam.

Or when you're stressed - simply put in a request for a Well-Timed Vacation entree - you choose the duration, location, and up to 3 guests to go with you.

A well-trained, polite staff would be there to bring things out, beautifully presented on trays and platters, to refill your water glass, and to make sure that the everything has been to your liking.

And then you could always send things back - "This is not what I ordered."

It *sounds* idyllic. And as much as there are bits and pieces about the scenario that are truly appealing... there are a few problems with the whole layout.

First, menus never tell you everything about what you're ordering. And if they did, it's unlikely that you'd actually read the entire list, because who wants to spend their time doing that? Then when it comes, it's not quite what you thought you'd be getting... Or perhaps you *do* read the whole description, and then change your mind about ordering the most amazing dinner EVER because it has something in it you've never heard of before - and that freaks you out a little. How many of my life experiences have gone that way? If I had known the whole truth about some experiences of my life - would I have opted out before even trying them?? Or waited until I felt more "ready" for the challenge? And let's be honest - how often would I really choose to go through those "learning" seasons of life if given the option? I shudder a little to think what it would look like if I was in charge of the shaping of my own character.

Then, of course, there's the issue that restaurants need to prepare ahead of time - so customization (while sometimes feasible) is typically minimal. You can't ask them to add just a dash of cinnamon to the blueberry pie before it's baked because that's what you'd do if you were making it at home - so you take what you get. The Life-Restaurant would remove some of our ability to take life and make it our own - and while there are days when I might trade leaving my own personal stamp on my life for the simplicity of ordering from a menu... I wouldn't be willing to forgo that forever.

Finally, in restaurants, we feel that we deserve to be completely pleased when we walk out the door because we paid for a service to be provided for us. And that makes sense. By Life-Restaurant-Logic, that gives Christ the right to dictate what is ordered, served, in what order, at what pace... because HE paid for my life. I've done nothing, and really - have no "right" to demand anything at all... and then the whole dream scenario fails.

This is all just an elaborate metaphor to remind me that although there is a piece of me that wants to say "Um, excuse me - but this isn't what I thought I was ordering when I asked to Be a Mama!" or "You mean being Grown Up comes with these side dishes no matter what??" - the truth of life is better than whatever scenario I could dream up.

Because the truth is that God loves me. My life is a gift, and the experiences I am given - while not chosen by me - are chosen by my Creator. And His love is better than life, His grace is more than I can wrap my mind around, and His peace passes my understanding.

So I tuck my napkin in my lap, and say "Yes, please - I would like fries with that!"