Just Thinking....

I love the quiet of this moment.  The boys are all asleep; Kate is reading in bed.  I'm sampling the chai tea I bought today and enjoying the sound of rain on the sunroom skylights.  I'm ignoring the crummy floors, the piles of clean laundry to put away, and the stack of papers waiting to be filed.  They will all still be there tomorrow morning, along with the fresh chaos that a toddler brings to each day.

I'm thinking about lots of things. 

I got an anniversary card in the mail today, from a high school friend.  A pastor's wife, a mother, and a teacher---she somehow manages to remember my birthday and anniversary every year.  Mind you, we graduated going on 19 years ago, and she is still sending a handwritten card twice a year.  I do not reciprocate, unfortunately; I only know that her birthday is in October.  I feel quite unworthy of that kind of friendship, but I'm thankful for it all the same.

I'm also pondering the book I'm reading.  It was not on my winter reading list because I didn't have it at that point, and besides, it's spring now.  It's called "Radical: Taking back your faith from the American Dream," by David Platt.  It was a NY Times Bestseller, and I'm terribly curious how it impacted the thousands of folks who read it.  It's the kind of book that makes me squirm, forces me to re-evaluate, and hopefully, changes my life.  Keith is reading the same copy, which makes it interesting.  I dog-ear pages; he underlines and circles.  We tore a bookmark in half so we can keep track of where we are, since we keep passing each other.  The author gives voice to many of our own thoughts and questions.  It is good to have company on the journey, to know that we are not the only very "un-normal" people in this country.

I'm thinking about the ever-present challenges of parenting.  When Keith and I first got married, we thought six children would be ideal, and maybe more.  What on earth was I thinking?  Four scramble my brain and drain my energy.  Kate is still little-girl enough to play doll (she was adamant that this is NOT the year to sell her doll's highchair at the yard sale) and yet grown-up enough to worry about friends and grades and wonder who she'll marry.  Luke is all rambunctious, clumsy energy fueled by lots of food...but at bedtime he becomes my affectionate little boy, running his fingers through my hair while I pray for him just like he has since he was a baby.  Drew has me laughing one minute and throwing up my hands in frustration the next.  He keeps me on my mental toes; at almost-five he seriously can outwit me.  And Joshua is the cutest, most exhausting toddler.  He smiles in the most charming way, all the while smearing peanut butter on the window.  He giggles and laughs in the bathtub and then, quick as a wink, dumps a cup of water over the side.  He rattles off a string of baby-talk in the beguiling way he has and then, when I have my back turned, he pushes furniture around so he can reach the knife drawer or the water spout in the fridge door.  And so it goes, every waking minute of every day.  I know, one day I'll wonder where these precious years went....even writing about them makes me think, "What will I do when they're all in school?  Will I wish we had another four?"

I have lots of happy thoughts...about my wonderful husband, about how God was being so good to us even when we were sure He wasn't, about the wide-open future ahead of us...but the gentle rain has turned into the first thunderstorm of the year, and Kate just appeared at my elbow, her big brown eyes a mirror of my own.  "I'm scared, Mom.  I don't like storms.  Can you come lay down beside me?"  She's my little girl tonight....