Spring has been treating us well over here at the Louwerse homestead though we've found ourselves increasingly busy as school and our various other activities start to wind down. We got Jeran signed up for kindergarten last week and that, alone, is blowing my mind as I start to think ahead to preparing him for that transition. Summer doesn't show any signs of slowing down which is bittersweet. We have SO many amazing things planned, but I just know it will fly by. There's the pessimistic part of me rearing it's ugly head. One day at a time, lady, one day at a time! As we continue on full steam ahead, I will leave you with some photos of my darlings.

Coming Out

My love affair with food is something that started out as what could probably be described as harmless but has grown into something obsessive, out-of-control, and just plain wrong. I've never had to watch my weight, and somehow this has become an excuse to eat whatever I want. And I do mean, whatEVER I want. Things that defy logic and reason. Orders of loaded nachos that were originally designed for a party of three. Portion sizes and helpings that would make large men cry with discomfort. Late night snacks that would probably feed a small, third-world village if they weren't so repulsively unhealthy. I've always known that how I relate to food is slightly unbalanced, but I have finally started admitting to myself that I don't eat to live. I LIVE to eat. I'll be eating a perfectly great meal and dreaming ahead to the next one, wondering what I'll be having then. My moods are often hinged on what kinds of goodies will find their way onto my palate in the hours ahead. Entire days will go by without a fruit or vegetable or anything, really, with any sort of nutritional value, passing my lips. I'll recount my liquid intake at the close of a day and realize that coffee and Coke have been the only things I've guzzled in the past 24 hours. And condiments. Mmmm, condiments. Oh, the condiments.
Food has, without doubt, become my idol in life. The intense level of mental, emotional, and physical energy that goes into something that should be so simple is frightening to me. It's an example of something that sin has gone and distorted, made unnatural. God created this amazing work of art, my body, to process and be fueled by some pretty amazing natural creations (we can call Cheetos natural creations, right?), and I know His design wasn't for my love and affections to be placed on His creation rather than Him, the Creator. And as I see my kids starting to adopt some of my eating habits, I cringe and finally see the need (and, beyond that, feel READY for) a lasting change.
Yesterday morning, some girlfriends and I discovered that we're all pretty much in this same boat: unhealthy relationships with food, readiness to change. So we formed a little support group for each other and have decided to set six-week-long goals as baby steps to changing our habits and lifestyle. We're trying to keep each other accountable and will celebrate our victories together (because I am CONFIDENT there will be victories!). So for this first six weeks my baby steps are:
1) Drink 64 oz. of water a day.
2) No more after-dinner snacking (you'll be happy to know I pulled the Crunch 'n Munch out at 10:00 last night, remembered this goal, then promptly put it back).
3) Exercise 4 times a week.

And perhaps you can give me some accountability too, now that I have spewed out my closeted skeletons to you, dear cyberspace friends. If you see me going up for that third or fourth helping, debating ordering that Big Mac versus, well, pretty much ANYTHING else, you can just lean over and whisper a little code word as a reminder. We'll make it...."condiments".

Here Comes the Sun

Whether it's literal or figurative, spring is a time for emerging from dark caves. I'm no polar bear, so I'd say I'm dealing more in the figurative sense. While this winter was a bit easier than the previous couple, it was still a bit of a dark time mentally. Everything is colored in shades of gray and that includes my mental attitude. So it really does feel like coming out into the world once more with spring's arrival. I can tell, too, that my senses have been just starved for spring: the riot of colors, scents, and sounds that the deadness of winter just doesn't allow. I can't wait for that first day when I notice the explosion of green on the trees.

We've been taking advantage of this a-maz-ing weather by getting outside as much as possible. Generally this means the boys go out in the backyard and roll around in the dirt. Several times a day. My bathtub's dirt-ring is approaching legendary status. There have also been visits to the park, walks to the library, ball-playing, ice-cream buying, and last week we made it to the Morton Arboretum (on discount Wednesday during everyone else's spring break week. MOBBED! But still fun). Next week Jeran has spring break from school which, sadly, won't amount to much since he goes to school in the afternoons and the other boys need to nap at that time. But it does mean we'll have lots of fun morning outings with no pressure to get him anywhere on time (not that "on time" is a phrase that usually describes our family anyway).

In other news: Jeran now owns his very own bike thanks to Papa and Nana's birthday gift.

Stop. Don't even think it. Oh my word - you just thought it! I know you did! Something along the lines of: Your FIVE-year-old is JUST getting a bike?????!!!! (This is roughly the same thing that JJ's doctor said at his five-year check-up a few weeks back. With slightly more tact and slightly less dramatics.) I really have no excuse for the fact that my child only now owns and is learning to ride a bike except that he's never expressed interest, so we never really pursued it. For some reason this summer we are all sorts of motivated to really be outdoors as a family and do some of these things (like bike-riding) that we haven't before. I know this has a lot to do with our kids getting older. It also has something to do with the whole physical fitness kick James and I find ourselves on lately. Something about being smack in the 30s is finally lighting a fire under our pathetically out-of-shape behinds. It has gotten really old to feel as sluggish as we often do, so we've started to slooooowly make some changes to our eating habits and activity levels (which, I should add, is really easy to do when you're starting from practically nil). One area of exercise we've found that we both enjoy is yoga. Not the whole sit-cross-legged-and-chant portion of the event, but the gaining-flexibility-and-strength area. James, especially, has had a lot of issues with his back since a major car accident several years ago, and he finds this helps decrease the pain he has. So we've gotten some yoga DVDs from the library in order to embarrass ourselves initially in the privacy of our own home. It has certainly been an exercise in hilarity.

I have also found myself compelled to RUN. Gulp. Yes, run. This is more in the "thinking about it with good intentions" stage, but it's there, nevertheless. I can think of only one other time in my life when I have wanted to run, and it had everything to do with a very motivated, energetic friend and mass quantities of extra time on my hands. So we'll see where these fitness aspirations actually lead.

In news of the friendship sort, a couple of weeks ago we had a visit from our close friends, Russ and Jess and their adorable offspring (two boys ages 3 and 1 - we love boys!). When I say close I do not mean geographically. Philly, PA stole them away from us about 6 years ago, but their newest address is in NY state. What I love most about these two is that EVERY single time we are together it's as if we saw one another just last week. It truly feels like no time has passed at all, and we pick up right where we left off: the laughter, the conversation both silly and deep, and the ability to just kick back and be completely 100% ourselves. Of course this means that every time we part ways again my sadness lingers a little longer. But I'm looking ahead to years of fun that our families will share, and it was great this time to watch our kids start getting to know one another, particularly as we've been sharing this journey of parenthood across the miles.

JUMPING on the air mattress is so much more fun than SLEEPING on it!

Grayson and Jude getting acquainted. HOW CUTE ARE THEY??

Who WOULDN'T bond over ice cream and Wii?

And now we've come to the best news of all: Easter is here, and I am officially reminded of what my Savior has done for me and what gives me cause for even greater joy than the sun that fills our days. And that is the love and mercy God pours out upon me, and the hope of an even brighter future.

"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Romans. 5:8

Hallelujah and Happy Easter!

No Bugs Here! No Pride Either!

Well nothing says embarrassment like the Terminix guy unexpectedly showing up for the quarterly "good riddance to bugs" visit and having the privilege of navigating around my underwear, dirty dishes, and general disarray. For the second time this year.

The Birthday Boy

Five years ago last Wednesday my little man entered the world. If you're at all interested in his birth story, you'll find it here. Here are a few photos of him throughout the years. Have I mentioned how crummy I am about taking pictures? They're not the best. Anyway, I love you, Jeran! I can't wait to see what the next year has in store for us!


First haircut right before birthday #2

Reality Check

Boy, there's nothing like a little journey through the blogosphere to get one's perspective back in shape. The other night I did just that. You know how it goes: you're on a friend's blog, and over to the right are other blogs they read, so you click on one, and then you find on that person's page another blog and so on and so forth. Through this labyrinth of strangers' personal lives I came across shattering examples of the fallenness of our world: a child lost to a tragic accident, babies born at 24 weeks and, a year later, still struggling to overcome the complications accompanying that, a woman widowed in her 20s, and the list could go on. Of course, there are many joyful occasions that people have blogged about out there too, but some of these more heart-wrenching stories have been sticking with me. At the risk of sounding insensitive, I just have to say in all honesty that it gave me a good dose of perspective. All of you people out there who are willing to share your stories, both pleasant and painful, help me to keep in check with reality: that life is one day at a time and at some point life will most certainly be on the more painful end of the spectrum, so these days that hold, overall, joy, should be cherished. And those things that seem so tough to me right now? Maybe handled with a little more grace and a little less whining on my blog. :)

Invisible Mom

I received this via email from one of the BEST moms (and friends) in my life, and it really moved me. I needed desperately this reminder that what I am doing has a far greater purpose than I can see now. I guess it kind of refocused me on what is important in my life - I don't have to "do it all" or be the put-together mom (which I am SO not, and that's for another post altogether). I CAN (and do) acknowledge that this job is harder than anything I have yet faced in my life and recognize that I need to love my kids with the love that God has already lavished on me.

Thank you, Steph, for sending this encouragement my way!!!



It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'
Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this??
Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.' Some days I'm a crystal ball; 'Where's my other sock?, Where's my phone?, What's for dinner?'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music and literature -but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!?
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England . She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read - no, devoured - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: 1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. 2) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. 3) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. 4) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does.
No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he’d say, 'You're gonna love it there...'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.
Great Job, MOM!
Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know... I just did.
The Will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you.
This is beautiful and makes a ton of sense.
To all the wonderful mothers out there!!