When Elisha was approaching a year I had this exchange with Nate V while we were getting ready to leave the church.
Me: It is so awesome to watch Elisha develop an attachment to his daddy. He’ll be lunging and calling for Jay as soon as he walks in the door. It’s so nice for me now that Elisha finds Daddy desirable.
Nate (serious and smiling at the same time): But, then, desirability is not sufficiency. When he wants Mama, only Mama will do.
(He has a son 6-months older than mine.)
And does it matter?
Melody came to her doorway (opposite mine) tonight and said, “Mommy, I asked Jesus into my heart.”
This whole time (you know, a whole week) I’ve been struggling with how to properly encourage Natasha for her choice without making it look… too good, so Melody wouldn’t just be a little mimic. I really thought I did pretty well, so I wasn’t expecting mimicking behavior.
I felt a little stunned (you might have thought she said “Mom, I’m pregnant,” I felt caught so off-guard). Not wanting to discourage her, but wanting to know more, I asked, “How did you do that?”
“In bed,” she said matter-of-factly.
I sent her back to bed with a smile and hug, not sure what to think. Natasha returned from bathroom a trip a bit after, and I heard Melody say, “Natasha, I asked Jesus into my heart.”
“That’s great!” Natasha responded enthusiastically. Then I heard her pray.
“Dear Jesus, thank you that Melody asked Jesus into her heart!”
Now, that would have been a natural place to start, I thought. I went into the room, not sure I’d heard right.
“Did you say something, Natasha?”
“No, I was just prayin’.” She looked a little bashful but was smiling so big.
Then Melody asked “Can you pray with me, Mommy, to ask Jesus in my heart?”
So I prayed with her– or started to– the repeat-after-me bit, and she took off with her own way of praying (and looked at me funny when I said the bit about obeying).
I lay everyone back down again and went to talk to Jay about it. I asked, “How do we know this is real? Does it matter?”
He said “I really don’t think it does. Treat it as real, and work form there.”
And, I guess he’s right. God knows their hearts, and I don’t have a reason to doubt or discourage her. It’s an ineffable feeling of relief to see both my girls’ hearts “safe home.” I never expected I’d feel this way.
It’s like that 20-lbs I lose every evening when Jay comes home and lifts Elisha off my back. That mixed with a little vertigo and the feeling of being outside right after it’s rained. I don’t know. I felt a bit like this after Natasha last week, and maybe it’s doubled now…
~
It is nice to know the stories we read together can now be more for them than just stories. That they can have the same significance for both girls.
I’ve felt a difference between the girls’ listening this past week, and wonder if Melody will hear differently in the morning.
Actually, she was more intrigued tonight than she’s been in the previous week, so… maybe God was already working on that part of her heart. And she was asking questions about Great-grandma and heaven after bible time.
Not like Natasha did, so I didn’t really think anything of it at the time… but it really seems like she was doing some level of processing this evening.
It makes me think of when I felt Elisha move at something like 3-months gestation.
I didn’t think before I felt him that it was physically possible, but when it happened I knew it was real. I guess my mind is growing into that place with Melody, thinking about the progression of the evening.
~ ~ ~
If you take any prayer-requests away from this reading, please pray that both these two new babies would be “rooted and established in love,” and be eager to grow– in their love of Scripture, in prayer and in obedience.
Pray especially for Melody to learn self-control, as lately she’s been having a hard time controlling her reactions to things (just and unjust).
And pray for my faith too, that I can trust that God will use these young confessions of faith, and allow them to spur one another on as they continue to grow on very parallel tracks.
Thanks for reading (and praying).
Natasha asked Jesus into her heart today.
The conversation started while we were making pitas for dinner. She was talking about heaven, how she wanted to go there, and how she’d see Great-grandma there, “and meet Grandma Teena’s daddy.”
I asked her how she could get to heaven. “Ask Jesus into my heart.” (This is the answer to a question the 4 & 5s are asked each week in Sunday school.)
“Do you want to ask Jesus into your heart?”
She paused, like she was thinking about it. “Yes,” she said. “Well, when it’s dark.”
“You want to wait until bedtime?”
“Yes. I want Jesus to come and die in my heart.”
“Jesus is done dying,” I explained. “He only had to do that once. If you invite Jesus he comes to live in your heart.”
(I’ve been thankful I’ve not yet had to explain how this works. So far the metaphor has just worked for her.)
She seemed to be thinking about this. “I want to go to heaven,” she said. “But I’ll need some grown-ups.”
“You won’t need grown-ups in heaven,” I said. “You’ll have Jesus.” She still looked thoughtful, then brightened.
“Oh! I’ll have great-grandma! She’ll be my grown-up!”
We talked about heaven for a while, and Natasha clarified she didn’t want to go right away– that she wanted to wait until she was “great big and grown-up. Like you, Mommy.”
After regular bedtime stories we read “TheLost Son” out of her NIrV (not planned, particularly, she saw the painting/illustration and asked for the story).
Some comprehension questions are after the passage, and those seemed to prompt her memory. She said again she wanted Jesus to come in her heart.
I asked if she wanted to pray herself or repeat after me, and she said she wanted to repeat, so we did that. When we were done I prayed for her, then asked if she wanted to pray herself.
I wish I better remember what she said, but it’s the first thing I can remember her praying that sounded like it was all hers (up till now I’ve heard her say mostly things with identifiable sources).
It was only two lines and very sweet and tender, something like, “Thank you for having heaven for me.”
When Jay came in for bedtime hugs Natasha told him that she’d invited Jesus into her heart.
I honestly feel this surreal sense of having a new baby in the house.
N: I’m Miss Clavel.
M: I want to be Miss Clavel.
N: I want to be Miss Clavel!
[pause]
M: We could both be Miss Clavel…
N: Okay!
Saturday I watched an 18-month-old part of the day (before lunch to a little after nap).
We put him in an extra booster seat and had four kids around the table for lunch. I pointed out to Jay that (mathematically) our family could’ve looked like this.
Aiden’s a little blondie and except that his blue eyes are darker than our kids’ he looks like he fits right in. Melody adores him. I think it’s a relief almost for her to have someone younger to play with because she doesn’t have to work (?) so hard to interact.
For the first half-hour him was here (I was making lunch) the girls would run up to me and shout, “He said, ‘Dah dot.’!” “He said, ‘Ruthara.’!” and every other variation of noise he made.
I really don’t know why it excited them so much. I finally told them that, being in the same room, I heard every noise he made before they ran to me, so just hang-out and play.
Oh, and he’s an amazing napper. I was worried with this being his first time that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but he sacked first out of all four kids and was the second to get up.
Elisha needs to take lessons.
We made ice cream with/for our company last night.
Our current ice cream maker only freezes about a quart at a time, so even though we have two canisters, and our recipe is closer to 1/2 gallon, we still only have an anti-climax when ice cream is ready. Especially with two families of five looking at that little brown tub.
So why do we have such a piddly small producer? Because it was the third ice cream maker we bought in as many years of marriage.
In the first 2 1/2 years we wore out two Rivals. Sure they worked well enough, though loudly, but they were not made for frequent or many uses (like, say, weekly. Forever.).
Inside the motor was a thin plastic washer to keep the metal parts from rubbing against each other and getting hot. This washer did not survive our use-pattern with any grace.
~~~
So we were telling this sob-story to our guests, and the husband’s response was, “You must be doing something right; you’re both so thin!”
I suggested modifying the describing terms to, “Still wear the same clothes,” which I felt was more accurate.
I’m in the process of washing a bunch of clothes tonight, including a cashmere sweater that reeks of chlorine.
Jay wore it all afternoon in the University swimming pool as part of his week-long, Learn to Return training.
I let the kids skip nap today so they could go watch Dad getting strapped down in a cage and thrown in the water. Pretty cool stuff.
He was receiving his helicopter underwater egress training while we were there. Brave man. I’m glad he’s doing it. Maybe someday I’ll be willing to be secured in a four-point harness and flipped upside-down in the water. That time is not now.
Mom was not real thrilled when she heard what those people had been doing to one of her kids.
The girls took it all in stride though. Very controlled environment: Mom wasn’t freaking, and Dad smiled after he came up, so it must just be more weird grown-up stuff. {shrug} Why can’t we get closer to the water? Why is everybody wearing a yellow helmet? Why isn’t that guy wearing one? (The instructor. Also the only person in a wetsuit.)
Later this week: Snowcaves and makeshift shelters. Note the “nice mukluk” in the snowcave pix. They do that sort of thing too. Jay brought home some great stories last year. This is his second time through the training. He said the being flipped upside-down thing wasn’t as stressful this time.
He came home with a cool black and red cap, too, with learn to return SURVIVOR embroidered across the front.
But I couldn’t try it on. He said he was given four guidelines for it:
I’ve had people ask me if I think “Monsters Inc.” is what made Natasha afraid of (complaining about) monsters. I say no, not on its own, because “monsters” is apparently a developmental thing that kicks in around age-three. I’m not sure what to call it really, just that a friend’s pediatrician was giving her advice for dealing with her son’s freak-outs, and his treating it as normal.
I’ve heard a couple creative ways to get rid of monsters.
The problem with both of these, Jay and I were discussing this last night, is that they both agree with the child that monsters are present.
Sometimes I think a child’s cries of monsters really could be the Enemy tormenting the poor kid. That is something I (by the grace of God and the power of Jesus) don’t have to put up with.
The line I’ve used for months is simply, “Mama doesn’t allow monsters in this house.” Sometimes I’ll add, “Jesus keeps them out. He’s stronger than any monster.” I remember at least once talking about what Natasha can say to a monster if she sees it.
Last night she used it. Continue reading
Oh, and we have a 2-year-old who speaks in complete sentences. How often does that happen? I really don’t know, but it seems unique.
I mentioned this to mom and she said, “It only counts if she can be understood.”
“It can be understood,” I said. “Sarah’s the one who told the story.”
“Antee-tarah, my ponytayol come out. Can oo fih it, peas?” [Tell me that’s not the cutest thing you ever heard.] “Tank-oo.”
~~~
Yesterday Rae Ann came over and cleaned my house while I worked on the longer Obit for tonight’s memorial service. While I was working it out the phone rang and it was one of those political telemarketing calls (can something be exponentialy annoying?); Concerned Alaskans for something or other was calling.
“Mrs. Helmericks, did you know that at this moment in the State Legislature–”
“Did you know,” I interrupted with a voice not-quite-steady, “that at this moment I am writing my grandmother’s obituary, and this is not a good time.”
A gratifying amount of awkwardness ensued.
~~~
Last week Natasha came up to me while I was sitting in our big blue chair and asked in her gentle voice, “Mama, do you ever forgive me?” After a Do I ever! laugh, I answered, “Yes, I’ve forgiven you lots of times.”
She embraced my arm tenderly and said sincerely, “I forgive you lots of times too.”
~~~
Today I had Jay drop me off at the DMV to renew my months-expired driver’s license. I wanted to be dropped off in case I was asked (with my 4-months expired license) how I’d gotten there.
When I called to ask Jay to pick me up he said something (over our poor cell-phone connection) that sounded like “oven door came off.” I could hear the stress in his voice.
“You can’t be serious!” I said.
“I am, and I’m on my way,” he said.
As soon as I was in the car I pumped him for the story. It seems Natasha had left one of her shoes in the kitchen, and Jay, stepping back as he checked on a pizza in the oven, felt it under his foot. He thought he’d stepped on Maestro or Melody and immediately picked up the foot again. His weight had already shifted, and so he hung on to the door, trying to catch his balance– and found himself holding a 400-degree door, looking at a half-baked pizza in the open oven.
Thankfully, the door wasn’t actually broken; it’s designed to lift straight up once opened, and the angle Jay pulled it at just lifted it straight out. Discovering this it was easy enough to fix, but didn’t entirely remove the panting moment of adrenaline.