No greater love

"Greater love has no one than this: 

to lay down one's life for one's friends." John 15:13

Taken in D.C. last summer at the Washington Monument by me. 

As I reflect on this Memorial Day, I am reminded of those who have given their lives not merely for their friends but for strangers, for me. I am thankful for their sacrifice. I am thankful for their example of thinking of others before themselves. I am thankful they had vision for the future generations that would benefit by their courage.Two friends are serving on active duty right now.

Thank you to all the veterans who have served for our country and to their families that also surrender their own desires for others.
-Kathleen

Seven minutes ago OR lots of change around here lately

Son, 13, runs half-marathon (13.1 miles) with dad

One year later, son almost meets dad eye-to-eye

My, oh my, how much things can change in a year. I don't think so much physical change has happened in my children since they went from newborn to one year old as it has this past year. Sometimes my children wake up in the morning and I think, "You look like you've grown." And now I realize, "They have!"  My young boy has turned the corner to young man. I wouldn't trade it but it still takes me by surprise when I hear his voice or his steps around the house and think that it's my husband. Nope, my son.

These two pictures were taken almost exactly one year apart. Do you see how my son is well-under my husband's arm? And now their shoulders are almost even? ?

Every time I think I have embraced the change fully; I notice something new. His changes startle me. Wow! How did this happen? Years ago I was standing in line at the post office with my newborn son. It was a loooong line. A woman said to me, "It seems like 7 minutes ago that my children were that young." I had had a lot of people remark how quickly the time goes, but 7 minutes? Seven minutes ago she had been standindg where I had been in line at the post office. I thought her exaggeration was a bit ridiculous.

But now, I think, 7 minutes ago my children were little.

Over the weekend we hosted a teen night at our house. We made over 10 homemade pizzas. As I was making those pizzas I reflected on a shopping trip that I had at the grocery store with three under three. A woman at the store commented about how she missed those times with her little ones. We kept bumping into one another throughout the store and even ended up loading our groceries into our cars side-by-side. I was an exhausted young mother, tired of people saying enjoy this while it lasts, so I asked her what she missed. She said, "the hugs and kisses and snuggles. Don't get me wrong. It's still fun. We're having a bunch of friends over tonight for a soccer party. But I miss those days." As I was making ten home-made pizzas, it reminded me of all those hotdog buns into the car. Holy Smokes! They weren't kidding when they said it would feel like just seven minutes ago they were snuggling on my lap begging for me to read them one more story. Now, I'm hosting bunches of their friends over to my house just like that lady at the grocery store.

Now it seems like just 7 minutes ago, I was holding them in the post office line or at the grocery store with three littles. If the last 14 years are any indication of how quickly time flies, I can only imagine how the next 4 years will go by. And then the first one will fly the nest. Just as they came quickly, they will fly out of my nest one, two, three. My heart can hardly stand it....so since I cannot slow down time. I must try & savor the here and now.

Levi & Kip, two of my favorite men!

Linking with Jen .

How looking outside my kitchen window taught me something about faith

A few weeks ago just outside my kitchen window, the bright pink blossoms of the Japanese Magnolias sang the song of eternal hope, swaying to the rhythm that soon all will be beautiful, and glorious -- just like them. I  welcomed the song because grayness was settling ever deeper into my soul after a long journey of unique circumstances. Each time I looked outside the window, I delighted in the cheerful blooms and my heart became lighter.

This lasted only a few days.

A late spring frost descended. At first, the flowers survived. But after a second frost and more cold days, the beautiful pink blossoms died an early death. They sang their song of hope for less than a week.

Drab, dreary brown, crumpled blossoms took their place. This was much worse than the winter gray that had stared at me for months. The crumpled brown mocked my hope in the glorious, eternal spring song that the pink had just begun to sing.

The new view depressed me.

Just as the pink declared hope; the crumpled brown yelled, "Don't get your hopes up.You'll never find a new normal. It will never get better." 

Pink tree blossoms of hope crashed down into a flurry of crumpled brown before I could even write a blog post about it! 

Then, I looked at the tree with dead flowers. It looked bleak but the truth is that I knew that the tree wasn't dead.

The buds were turning into green leaves. Only the over-the-top flowers were dead. The tree itself was alive. I can't always judge the real work that is happening by only observing the outside of the tree.

A lesson of faith was just outside my kitchen window. I need to walk by faith, not by sight. Though it looks dead because of the dead flowers, the tree itself is still alive.


After a little time, green began to grow -- the steady green of late spring. It is not as glorious as unique, pink blossoms but certainly way better than crumpled brown.

Now when I look outside my kitchen window I see mostly green even though the crumpled brown is still there.  With the eyes of faith, I'm learning to trust that there is life even when I can't see it.

 Deep, true growth is hard to see. That is why I must walk by faith, not by sight.Walk steadily in the days of green while I continue to trust that in due time, the pink will come again with its glorious song of hope..

"We live by faith, not by sight." II Corinthians 5:7

Linking with Jen & Emily.

Remembering the Right Things

Kip & his dad, June 2012

 For the last six months I have been the keeper of medical information for my husband's family. On September 14 my father-in-law had a brain tumor removed from his brain stem. I have been tracking this and other major medical events that then ensued for him. This has been good. It has been needed. For example, going to my father-in-law's primary care physican to recount the history of the last six months. That was good. That was needed.

Kip's dad & Kip's uncle, Nov. 2012

But... have I been as diligent to write down and think about over and over again how the Lord has meet our needs -- my needs -- these past six months?

Am I recalling how we felt compelled to annoint him with oil after hearing a sermon on James 5? And when his pastor was asked, he said, "Yes" and how peace filled the room. How we were all blessed by obeying the Word?

Am I recounting how on a day when all I could think of was how weary I am, that a friend sent a card in the mail with a verse about being weary along with a Starbucks gift-card?

Do I remember how a friend texted me and made herself available to talk on one of those really hard days? I don't remember which one. But it was one of the ones where we thought we were saying goodbye.

Am I remembering how I arrived at home around 1 o'clock in the afternoon with four hungry children, an empty refrigerator, an empty pocket-book, and a friend called wanting to bring us lunch?

Am I remembering how someone brought a pork roast to my house, someone who had recently been in the hospital herself, that she put in our freezer and the very next night I would need food to feed my family and others?

Am I remembering how a child-less couple of 13 years of marriage found out on the day my father-in-law had surgery that they were expecting? She thought something was wrong. Instead, God gave them a baby after thirteen years of waiting. The news delivered to their ears on THE SAME DAY of the original brain surgery. My father-in-law's tenth grandchild would be delivered while he was still in the hospital fighting to breathe.

Am I remembering how a friend planned a birthday dinner when I had no energy to plan a party and she rarely, if ever, plans such things?Am I remembering how friends have said that I could text in the middle of the night? And how comforting it was to have them praying in the middle of the night when the hospital called again with bad news that they intubated him again? And sometimes they had started praying before I had texted?

Am I remembering how a washing machine came to my front door when our washing machine had been broken for over a week? Reminding me that God is seeing all of my needs. He will watch over me and take care of me.

Am I remembering? Not the intubation and the MRSA and the blood clots and the hard decisions but am I remembering His mercy in it all?

Am I remembering the answered prayers of an 11-year-old grand-daughter who wanted to see her grandpa but wasn't allowed in the ICU? She prayed. He was moved to a regular room for two days. She saw him. He told her, "I love you." He moved back to the ICU, one of many set-backs. But she remembers that God answered the cry of her heart, just for her.

Kip's dad or Papa, and Sophie, Feb. 2013

Am I remembering how he was discharged home on a Friday night? This seemed to be bad timing because everything medical was closed for the weekend. But we had nothing on our calendar. We stayed at their house for three days because my husband had a three day weekend. God worked it out so we could spend the whole weekend helping to get things set-up.

How many more details, important God-has-hand in this kind of details, have I forgotten? Let me not forget. Let me recount the many mercies of God. Let me remember how good and kind He is in the midst of sorrow and suffering.

Let me remember. Let me declare all of the ways He has shown His mercy on me. On us.

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Linking with Jen & Emily.

When you need encouragement for the everyday

I have been cocooning lately, wrapped up mostly in my home. Our homeschooling actually reflects that we've been home, which means better school days.

I'm thankful for these slow days. It means it's been awhile since the last crisis. I think February was void of them. How nice. Except that I've forgotten how to function without crisis after the 'year of nutzo on steroids." (Which was 2012). I keep thinking, "This shouldn't be that hard."  And yet these normal gray February days have been hard.

I'm thankful to be running again after a one-year hiatus. Last year at this time I wasn't running. I was learning to walk without a limp due to tearing the MCL in my left knee. It is sweet to be able to train with my 13-year-old daughter for a half-marathon especially because I had to drop-out of training with my then thirteen-year-old son.

I'm thankful to be able to move. I'm thankful to train again for a half-marathon with one of my children. And I'm thankful that we have felt the need to train because of these hard, gray February --and now March-- days. The running has helped ward off the blues.

And the whisper in my ear has also helped. The whisper of the small, still voice inside of me that has reminded me that I need Him on all kinds of days. Not just crisis days. But also ordinary, every-day days. I need Him all of the time even when I think I should be able to do this in my own strength.

"..apart from me you can do nothing..." John 15:5 NIV

He didn't just mean that I could only do bigger-than-me tasks -- like take in four extra kids on a moment's notice. He means that apart from Him, I can do nothing.

It is okay that I need Him to do the every day small tasks. I am learning to be content with that. I am learning again how to walk with Him in the everyday.

  *  *  *

Here are some other voices that have encouraged me lately:

Edie's words in her blog at Life in Gracetoday, that are also in her e-book, about raising gracious kids just really tugged at my heart today. Read it here

I needed to hear Elizabeth's voice on treating herself more compassionately, too. I could relate all too well. Read about that here.

Also linking with Michelle and Emily today.

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 Have you been in need of encouragement lately? 

Where have you been finding it? 

The End of An Era

Tubing this past summer, one of the van's last great adventures.

The Era of  the Big Purple Jaeger Adventure Van  has officially ended.  Did you feel the world shift a bit last week when we finally sold our 12 passenger  van?

Now that I am no longer driving my living-room around town can you even recognize me? I'm in a normal, everyday, same as everyone else mini-van. Look for the curly hair. But wait, my friend, who also has curly hair and who looks more like my sister than my sisters, has the exact same car (except for the big dent in her hood, but that's another story.) So you might have to call me on my cell phone to know if it's me. I do have one now that everyone else has a smart phone. Don't worry. I'm catching up but I'm not passing anyone on the road to technology.

In honor of this passing era, I am hosting a guest blogger, my oldest daughter, Sophie. Here are her words about the van.

An Ode to the Brown Purple Van

We have had the purple van as long as I can remember. It has driven us to many, many places: the park, Baskin Robbins, Minnesota, more than I could list. We have dirtied it and cleaned it again, scraped ice off its windows, and sprayed it clean on hot summer days.

It is big enough to give our friends rides. The Moodys, the Haleys and the Jaeger cousins are only a few that have adventured in our egg plant colored car. Songs have been sung, stories made up, jokes cracked, pictures drawn, games played, and lots and lots of talking and chatter in that van. It has carried baseball, basketball, and soccer players, been muddied by laughing tubers and singing waterfall visitors. It has visited warm beaches, snowy roads, orange pumpkins and a hot day at a giant tree house. It has carried us well and been trustworthy.

We love it.

Big purple van:
I salute you.

Sophie

Our last moments quite literally in the van as the buyers walked up during this photo!

* * * 

How about you? Have you had any shifts in your demographics lately?

What we've been up to this weekend

The kids and I made a welcome banner when we heard Papa might be coming home. I did the lettering. The four kids painted the banner.  It sure was touch-n-go even on that day. At least three, if not more, times we heard that he's not coming home. He arrived around 9 o'clock on Friday night. We have all learned a lot about hospitals, doctors, nurses, and medical procedures these past four months. We are still learning. Now, it is about home health care and how to nurse our loved one back to full health. We are so thankful that he's alive and now even closer to us.

Meagan waits with Grandma after a stressful day of waiting. Transitions and beginnings are so hard. We were glad that he was coming home but there was a lot to coordinate to get him here, which mostly other people do. We had to wait and wait. And sometimes that is the hardest thing to do.

T

In his bed, Grandpa made it! After four long months in the hospital, he finally made it home. One third of a year he has spent away from home, including three hospitals and a nursing facility. As Sophie said, "The last time I roller-bladed at his house, I was in shorts. Now it's chilly. It made me realize how long he has been in the hospital." It has been so nice to have him around this weekend as we learn how to do tube feedings, nebulizer treatments, and help him walk and other various duties. We can let him nap while we play a game or do a craft. He is always around us when he is awake. So nice for him and for us.

I love this shot of Papa being wheeled into the house. You can see his name blurred in the background. He has an amazing amount of determination and courage. I have learned a lot by watching him these past four months. I have learned about living a life of no debts, especially relationally. He has lived a life of integrity, a life of faith. He has walked the path of submission. One cannot always see the most valuable things easily.

In the middle of the weekend, Grandma taught the grandkids how to make Kringla, one of my very favorite desserts that she makes. They are baking as I type. Yum. Yum. They will soon be gone.

The kids have made Kringla, duct tape wallets, played lots of games with Aunt Kay, and rollerbladed. This is much nicer than hanging out in hospital waiting rooms for them. I imagine we'll be having more school days over here in the future to provide support for Grandma as she nurses Grandpa back to health.

Some napping has also been in order this weekend. Kip grabs a bit of shut-eye on the front porch in the amazingly nice weather. We have all had a lot of information to absorb about when and how to administer medicine and coordinate supplies coming to the house. Much to learn. Much to do. Plus, Kip has been night duty, sleeping near Grandpa.

A beautiful weekend. So thankful for so many things, especially loving family that supports one another. Linking with the Company Coffee girls. Join us for a chat if you like.