French kiss! French kiss!

i'm not sure...
but i think possibly...
that we are the only family with a 6 year old who chants, 'French kiss! French kiss!' every time her parents wander into the same room.
i'm sure glad she picked up that expression from that television commercial (y'know the one that shows, 'toast, french toast, kiss, french kiss - it's so much better when it's french' - with a big romantic embrace at the end...)
So one day,that familiar black bag was packed by the door - and he was just finishing up a last few details in his office before he came bounding along the snowy path to the back door and into the house where i was teaching our small fry while poking toast into the baby's mouth - still in my pj's.
He burst in with a cloud of frosty air and started jumping and chanting, "French kiss! French kiss!"
Mollen was the first to leap into the air giggling and joining his cry.
& so i crept into his arms to mollen's squealing delight...
so maybe my clinging smooch wasn't as romantic as the flowing gowned embrace on tv...
but it's the kind that has years of familiarity behind it... it's the kind that shows our littles that we're still a team... it's the kind that you feel way down deep - in the pit of your stomach when you wanna know you're loved...
So, chant away molls -
remind us to hold each other -
to love each other -
to savour the goodbyes -
and to yearn for the hellos.

praying

Sometimes we let loose a torrent of words in our prayers.
Asking, telling, thanking, praising...
Other times - every little word seems inadequate -
& we're left with prayers made up of sighs, groans, and wordless sounds.

Sometimes even the sounds are used up - & we're left sitting, in silence - in His presence.
& then there are the times...
where He gives us just that one word that so describes the heart of our prayer.
That happened to me the other day as i prayed with our little ones at the start of our school day.
Courage, Father.
Whisper to me words of courage - remind me that i'm yours so that i don't falter in my timidity.

living in the land of plenty...

i know...
i'm supposed to be out Christmas shopping somewhere or something.
But instead today i found myself purging a really big garbage bag full of excess from our home.

We're in a constant state of re-organization here. With 7 littles - there are always sneaky ways to make it seem like there's more room, to try something new, to rearrange, remove or redo.
Today, i decided to give our 14 year old a shot at having her own room, something that hasn't happened in 12 years.
We moved Mollen downstairs to a little mattress under Charter's loft bed. i'm not sure if it's permanent yet, but the shift caused some cleaning, organizing and purging, and it really struck me; because our family doesn't have a lot of 'stuff' by North American standards, and here i was with another big load to get rid of.
It's another one of the blessings to having a large family. We simply don't have the space to store excess - it *has* to go. Sometimes it's crap & it goes in the garbage (most often), sometimes it's decent and it gets handed down to friends or cousins...
& what goes around comes around...
we love a good bag of pass me downs around here...
Having my little crew has taught me to cling a little less tightly to things -
and a little more tightly to the One who gently shepherds us all...
i hope that He'll continue to strip away at my selfishness and pride...
making room in my heart for His fruit to grow...

on having a husband who travels...

i have some friends whose husbands have to work long hours, or have jobs where they are emotionally spent. Some husbands own their own businesses - or become ghosts at harvest time.
Some husbands have to take extra classes to keep up - or to become competitive... and some husbands are out of work... or gone missing... absent because of divorce - or death...

But this post -

this post is for the girls like me - the women who hold down the fort at least half time while their husbands travel.
i know that what i do isn't out of the ordinary - as a matter of fact, i know lot of women who see their husbands a lot less than i see mine.
And, just as our husbands spend 50% of their days living out of suitcases...
we spend 50% of our lives creating a new normal for the little ones in our care.
We shovel when it snows - our scrawny arms are suddenly the biggest muscles available- & though we're short, we're the tallest ones around. We're the only one with a drivers licence during those long days and nights when daddy's away.
We try not to phone during business hours, or during late supper meetings, even if we could find a quiet moment or location in our bustling homes.
We scour the garage looking for his tools to fix projects that have fallen into our laps, in the absence of more capable hands.
We repeatedly answer each little ones query about the day and time of daddy's hopeful return.
We become - for those days -
both momma - and daddy -
in the dizzying feat of plates spinning that arises when-

We have a husband who travels.

We're frustrated that the waitresses at all the business restaurants wear such skimpy clothing. We wonder if our meager spaghetti and meatballs will be good enough after the steak and lobster he bought for his customers. We wish he could see that we got dressed - and put on make up... tried a new up-do and have matching socks. We watch our words carefully so that the predominant theme is gratitude - not complaint when he's home - *and* when he's away too - because we know... we *know* - we have so much to be grateful for, and we want our little ones to see that. We know our husbands love us - and are travelling and working - on our behalf. Their travel is an inescapable part of a job they love - or that they tolerate... so that they can provide for us.
We trust those men - who take our hearts around the country, but who carefully bring them back home again as soon as they're able.

Hey, little mamas - i know there must be some of you reading my blog - & if you are -
i'm doin' it too.

and i'm cheering for all the other little mamas -
whose arms aren't strong enough -
whose legs aren't long enough -
whose patience isn't thick enough -
whose lap isn't big enough -
but who continually give all -
and trust that the Father - who never leaves on business trips - will make up for all she lacks, and will give exceedingly and abundantly more on those days-

when her husband travels.

and then she said...

To my very pregnant friend:
"When you have your new baby, don't bring it here."

We all look at Mollen questioningly.
"If you do, Gagey will injure it."

*sigh* the sad hard truth.

But if she's brave enough to bring the tiny fresh whisp of life to my house, i will wrangle my boys and ward off my girlies....
and i will sigh with wonder over the tiny grasping fingers, and the perfect o shaped mouth.
i will make sure that there isn't quite so much naughtiness -
so there is no fear of injury.