I was at a church event when I learned that my friend Emily likes all things Organization. Scratch that, she doesn’t just like it, she lives it, breathes it, thinks of it and makes it happen. Emily even likes to read about organizing so she can learn the proper terminology for things like towel rotation and natural cleaning solutions. In short, Emily blows my mind. Her brain is an alien species to my brain, though in all truth, I wish I was more like her.
But I’m not. So obviously the next step is…? Hire Emily. Clearly!
It is with pride that I post this particular image of the day Emily came to conquer my bathroom. Pride that my bed is made and it looks pretty. (See? I’m not a total loser after all; I can do some things well. Yeah yeah. Moving on.)
These pictures show the reality of my need. After moving to the new house, with more bathroom space actually, I’m struggling to figure out where everything belongs. Also, these pics make me want to hyperventilate. Look at all the stuff all over the ground—argh! Do we really have to pull it all out and group it into categories? Just when I start to panic over the madness, I realize that Emily eats it up. She loves this process and hasn’t broken a sweat. It’s actually fun for her. Which is why she’s the woman for this job.
By the end of our time together, we’ve thrown away useless items (goodbye, old hairbrush and earrings I haven’t worn in five years), donated a few others, and organized the rest of the pieces for cabinets in three bathrooms. We’ve also unstuffed the linen closet, reorganized it and actually have free spaces on shelves. The linen closet looks so pretty with its clean lines and refolded twin sheets. I’m starting to understand what Emily does—she brings beauty and order to chaos, redeeming the space available.
I’ve got Em’s number if you need her help; but you can’t have her this morning. She’s coming soon to make some sense of my laundry room and kitchen nook. And she’s worth every penny.
I told some friends today that I was the creme filling in a very affectionate Tredway sandwich. I told this to them to explain why Livia came back for one more kiss on her way to swim lessons—it’s just how she rolls. And it’s how her daddy rolls, too. These people I live with? They love the physical lovin’, which is how I came to find myself smooshed between their hot bodies on our master bed today. I believe there were eight-year-old legs flung over my hips and an eight-year-old arm around my neck while I spooned with my hubby on the other side. Not only do I need less physical closeness than these two do, I’m also a tad claustrophobic. The creme filling eventually oozed away from the two cookies in order to save herself.
If getting squished by two lovable characters—and one with that precious face above—is my lot in life, well then… I have a good lot indeed.
I’m emerging from the haze of moving houses to realize that I shot several photo sessions this past spring that I haven’t shared with you all. So here goes!
I helped the Stark family mark sweet little Elizabeth’s first year of life with family portraits. Side note: if you need the best quality of care for your little one’s teeth, go see Elizabeth’s mom, pediatric dentist Heidi Stark. She and her staff are wonderful with children and Livia LOVES going to see Dr. Heidi. With that being said, I loved meeting Dr. Heidi’s family and spending time with them one warm Saturday in March. What a kind, lovely, fun family she has! Our kids grow up so fast—it was a pleasure to stop time for a moment and take some photos.
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.
