2020 put him through the wringer, rewriting nearly every norm in his life.
A year of highs and lows and messy in-betweens. But by heaven’s grace, we made it through, along with his sister, to this familiar rhythm of putting up our tree. Keenly aware he probably won’t need my shoulders next year, I breathe deep tonight’s seasonal scene.
Gratitude falls afresh for the momentary peace of lights upon on a dove-topped tree.
Filed under Christmas, diabetes, Evan, Motherhood, Photography, Struggles
It’s been a gift, these past 3 months, wrapped in various packaging.
Near & far.
Brief & lengthy.
Joy & sorrow.
Filled up & poured out.
Lessons taught & wisdom received.
Laughter & lament.
Camps, car rides, & cookouts.
Memories. Oh the memories, new & re-remembered.
Summer break brought a welcome respite from our family’s frenetic school year schedule. While lunches still needed packing, this working mama reveled in the reprieve from early carlines & driving east simply to commute further west. Most glorious of all – NO homework! Praise be.
Of my many summers in motherhood thus far, this one stands out unique. A summer of healing, maturing, of digging deep & mending hearts, thoughts, lives.
I witnessed confidence return to a worn child.
I saw faces alight with fresh fun & freckles from days soaking up sea & sun.
I rocked sleeping giants & whispered Truths constant & prayed over dreamers whose hearts I now carried surely as once had my womb.
I learned to listen a bit quicker, to respond a bit slower, to relinquish control a bit less begrudgingly.
I offered broken hallelujahs with bittersweet celebrations, holding more tightly to things lovely while more willingly laying down arms.
I cried honest admissions & harrowing realizations & humbled celebrations of grace freely given.
I watched a daughter rise after a hard, hard season to shine her inherent light again.
I watched a son wrestle life lessons with resilient kindness & curious wonder.
I watched the woman in my mirror start smiling in reflection once more, beginning to dream, to dare for days brighter ahead.
I witnessed grace falling like monsoon rains, undeserved, unrelenting, free.
Three months come & gone. As tonight falls soft, this house quiet with sleeping babes & a mother reminiscing, a wise king’s words resound amidst the silence:
“To everything there is a season; a time for every purpose under heaven.” Ecclesiastes 3:1
Summer draws to its close as a new elementary academic year begins. When a new season dawns with tomorrow’s rising sun, may it find me grateful. It’s certainly been a summer to remember.
Filed under Motherhood, Patience, Photography, Thoughts
Bright-eyed at 5:45a. With a jump and a smile she leapt from bed.
The day had finally arrived. Today everything changes. Today our home will never be the same.
Today Eliana Faith became a Kindergartener!!
I’ve never seen her more excited.
I’ve never felt such bittersweet ache at her gain.
My baby girl now an Elementary Student.
Last night she slept like a rock.
I slept like a restless child, tossing, turning, watching the clock tick slow.
Like the relentless tide so questions assailed my insomniac mind.
Did I do enough? Where did I fail in preparing her? How did the long days of toddlerhood pass in a flash? Is she ready? Did I do enough?!
I will lift up my eyes to the mountains;
From where shall my help come?
My help comes from the LORD, Who made heaven and earth.
He will not allow your foot to slip;
He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD is your keeper;
The LORD is your shade on your right hand.
The sun will not smite you by day, Nor the moon by night.
The LORD will protect you from all evil;
He will keep your soul.
The LORD will guard your going out and your coming in
From this time forth and forever.
(Psalms 121:1-8 NASB)
Though she came from my womb, she was knit by heavenly Hands. All her days were ordained before one came to be. In God she lives and moves and has her being. His plans for Eliana brim over with hope and love. His thoughts towards her outnumber the stars. His mercies pour out afresh on her every morning.
On Eliana. And her momma.
Grace. Grace. God’s grace.
Grace that will cover and cleanse within.
Grace. Grace. God’s grace.
Grace that is greater than all my sin.
Where I lack, His grace covers. Where I fall, His arms reach low to lift me up. Where I have failed my daughter, His love remains strong on her behalf. He has not called me to be a perfect mother.
Just a faithful one.
Today begins a new chapter of learning to trust God further, to lean on Him harder, to release what is ultimately His into His steadfast arms.
Eliana, you continue to teach me faith, to adjust my eyes to see God’s continued answered prayers. Walk tall today, sweetheart. You are ready for this. Not because of me but because Almighty God walks with you wherever you go. Listen for His voice. He will never leave you nor forsake you. Enjoy today, my darling girl. You are ready!
Filed under Eliana, Motherhood, Parenting, Struggles, Thoughts
This week has taught me a simple yet profound truth: familiarity can blind.
Twice a year, the NC State Fairgrounds fills with the gianormous Kids Exchange Consignment Sale. Thousands come to sell their used goods from kids clothing to computer systems, books to bikes, furniture to furbies. Run like clockwork, this huge sale brings an awesome opportunity for families to sell outgrown items and purchase others for a fraction of store costs.
I’ve attended this sale in years past but this time around, I decided it was time to purge our house of everything outgrown. As the gathering began, something caught me off guard to a stagering, humblingly degree.
In a culture of excess, I confess how easily I fall into the lie of lack. Comparisons, complaints, kids growing faster than my clothing budget. Without due diligence the slide into dissatisfaction grows slippery and steep. Like quicksand, the more I see, the more I want, the more others have, the more I feel I lack. Ugh. ‘Tis a dangerous cycle.
But as I sat amongst boxes and boxes and boxes of my children’s used clothes, reality reduced me to tears. I’ve been surrounded by this striking evidence of God’s tangible provision yet its familiarity blinded me. God has truly taken care of our family!
“My God will supply all your needs according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:19
What amazed me most was the sheer amount of clothes from the seasons when we had stepped out in faith, leaving a salaried/benefits job to start a business, when we had to completely trust God for every new student, new client, new child born. It was from the seasons of smallest income that the tallest piles of clothes stood.
“Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen.” Ephesians 3:20-21
As I sorted this massive collection of clothes, memories overwhelmed me as the majority of items had been gifts. Memories of kind strangers, generous friends and unexpected finds flooded my mind. God truly had provided for our little family. He not only clothed my kids – He clothed them in style! This evidence of grace had sat unnoticed in my home for years. It wasn’t until I stopped to take stock of it all that I saw clearly.
God has been faithful.
God will remain faithful.
God can be trusted with the needs of today and tomorrow as I hold evidence of yesterday’s provision in grateful hands.
Familiarity blinds. Stop and take stock today of all He has already done, already provided, already shown Himself faithful and strong. You’ll be amazed by the treasure trove of blessings already in your grasp.
“For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith! Do not worry then, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear for clothing?’ For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” Matthew 6:25-33
Filed under Comparison, Faith, Generosity, God, Motherhood, Struggles
This may surprise you. It certainly surprised me. You’d think after nearly 5 years, the truth would have sunken in by now. But my eyes opened wide this week to new knowledge of myself, a perspective I’ve long yet unknowingly carried deep. Watching my children run strong and bubble over with laughter, it struck me as never before.
Eliana and Evan are growing up.
They’re alive!
And I’m.
Completely.
Shocked.
In an instant fear and wonderment collided as my children’s growth hit me afresh. As if scales had fallen from my eyes, I saw my children as the little man and young lady they’ve become and the babies they will never be again. Sounds odd, I know. But in awe I watched them converse like little adults, laugh at each other’s jokes and console their sibling’s occasional boo-boos. They’re growing up.
They’re still here.
Loss lingers long past its welcome, tucking itself down deep to rear its worrisome head when you’d least expect. Startling defenses, it stalls progress and silences hopes at their onset. Like the rolling tide, you may jump over the first big wave but if you don’t continue forward, the aftertide will quickly follow. You’ll still get wet. You’ll still feel its pull.
Loss leaves you changed. No matter if its death or disease or disappointment, loss is loss is loss. By His grace and faithfulness, God has bound broken heartstrings, cradled my woes and shone hope into darkened places of my soul. But I realized stark this week that the tides had continued to roll deep within long past its initial breakers. I never fully believed these days would come and had braced my inner depths for the assumed “worst” to follow.
Oh to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be
Let Thy goodness like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to Thee
Prone to wander, Lord, I fear it
Prone to leave the God I love
Take my heart, Lord
Take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
As the tide of truth rolled in, realization reduced me to confession. Confession of walls built within from loss that in turn had inflicted loss – they had held me captive from fully enjoying each gift of today, from fully committing to daily now of my children, from dreaming of days to come.
Loss has marked me. Its tide will ebb and flow until my breath fails and pulse stills. BUT. Truth understood renders choice. Every fearful impulse, every braced breath, carries on its back the choice to succumb OR to offer it full to the only One with grace enough to make it through. Loss acknowledged can breed gratitude and faith-filled trust in the One who bore our griefs, who carried our sorrows to Calvary. Its a journey. A most humbling journey. But one worth traveling. As we offer our fears into trustworthy Hands with honest confession and resolve to see through grateful eyes, hope sinks down deep. Amidst the turbulent tides of this worrisome world, we can cling to our Anchor, firm and secure. Sure as the rising dawn, the hope found alone in Jesus will always hold fast and true.
My children grow before my eyes. I breathe deep in gratitude, trusting their tomorrows to the One who has renewed my hope today.
Thank You, Jesus, for all You’ve redeemed. Thank You for loving every wounded place, for pursuing every fear-built wall with love strong enough to breech boulders. Thank You for grace to see beauty in ashen spaces, for joy in mourning’s place, for patience while we learn to trust You. Thank You for redeeming what You allow. Thank You for all my children. You have taught me much through them with lessons more in store. I am grateful.
Summer.
The auburned boy has turned three, the boy whose name means “brave messenger”, whose eyes reduce my soul to puddles of joy and delight. He climbs everything, breaks many things, fears NO thing, and makes his mother a bit more gray with each passing dare-deviled day. He greats me with a “huug and a kiss” morning and night and many moments between, this snuggler of my heart. He softens the rough places I didn’t know I had and overwhelms me with the tangible goodness of God. A boy. A ginger boy. A boy who rests his head safely on my shoulder with secure breaths and contented sighs. He delights in his sister, melts his mother and follows closely after his father’s every step. Oh this boy of mine. How I love him so.
Longer days, shorter nights. July quickly approaches.
Her dark hair cascades down like sheening waves of chestnut and ebony. Just shy of five, this beautiful Answer To Prayer shines hope and joy through her bright blue eyes, eyes like sapphires surrounding a glowing orb of glacier blue. Simplicity delights this boundless dreamer who sees a friend in every stranger, greets each new day as an adventure and has never known a dull moment in her existence. She bestows gifts from the mundane to the imagined extravagant, all boasting of her affection and placed value in people. How she loves to give gifts to others! Her nurturing heart tenderly cares for every wound in the Leino household – those seen on our flesh and those hidden in my aging soul. She has lavished love and joy into places long tucked away in me. This blue-eyed beauty sees beautiful in the plain, the broken, the misshapen and forgotten. She sees through innocent eyes with a courageous love that knocks fear off its feet. Protector of her brother, admirer of her father and kindred spirit to the child her mother once was. This sweet girl of mine. How I love her so.
Summer’s heat will quickly give way to autumn. Autumn to winter. Winter to another year to another decade to a life fully lived. May I drink it all in and savor every drop.
These precious children of mine. Oh how they’ve grown.
Filed under Eliana, Evan, Motherhood
They fray quickly now. Within weeks deep denim hues begin to fade towards white. This quick progression from new to used marks every pair of jeans I own, a pattern which began four years ago when I found myself knees-to-floor daily.
In a world of lofty ambition and heads held high, nothing has brought me low like motherhood.
Diapers. Tummy time. Playtime. Wiping away spills. Diapers. Desperately looking for that other shoe. Cleaning up toys. Bath time. Diapers. Cleaning yet another mess. Diapers! I’ve spent much of the past four years on my knees and have the holey jeans to prove it. Truth be told, this has frustrated me far more than it ought. Couldn’t just one pair of jeans not look nearly spent?! Vain, I know.
This simmering continued until last week. As I put on a relatively new pair of jeans, I noticed the knee wear was much less than normal and smiled in delight. But then an unexpected sadness set in. I’m not on my knees as often. The floorbound days are quickly fading with my children’s growth. Less crawling on the floor. Fewer spills to clean. Nearly diaper-free with everyone now playing upright. Our home will soon be baby-free forever. How did this happen so quickly?! The unending days of toddlerhood seem like a wisp now as I’m beginning to feel a mother’s pangs at her child’s increasing independence.
My grieved gaze looked upon the dark denim covering my knees. Suddenly all the fraying jeans of the past four years no longer brought frustration. Rather than carrying the marks of a weary mother, they bore weight like an honor badge, bestowed by grace and held in high esteem. Oh the privilege of faded knees from hours spent earthbound with the most precious gifts given this side of heaven. Forgive me, Lord, for not seeing their significance sooner. Please open my eyes, soften my heart to delight always the wear and tears of this life You’ve entrusted to me. Thank You for making my knees well worn.
Filed under Motherhood, Parenting, Struggles, Thoughts
A Life Of Patience 