The Joy of Seasons

*Millie took all these pictures over the course of a day or two. They may be redundant, but I can't thin them anymore because the children's expressions keep making me laugh.

Susannah bought a kid's snow board for $1.00 at a rummage sale and gave it to Annika as an early Christmas present. This was the inaugural day for it, and she got a  nice bit of air for a cheap board and a tiny hill.

As precarious as Annika and Aidan look going down together, they made the landings every time.

Send that boy to Newbsanity.

...or just to fetch wood.

Skylark finally made it outside. She's a fierce snow baby and would spend all day in the banks if we'd let her.

Mmm. Not as realistic as you'd hoped, Nixie, but not too shabby.

Leftovers

Yet another perk of having Grandpa Owen live nearby is that when you look out your window the week before Christmas, you'll see Santa Claus ho-ho-ho-ing his way toward the house.

(Now, I'm not saying that Santa IS Grandpa Owen, but it is pretty fishy that they share the same car.) Skylark doesn't know who Santa is, but she was willing to give him a hesitant hug, anyway.

Here is the hairstyle Mildred performed on Susannah's hairs, settled here for posterity because you will never see it again.

We told her she looked like interstellar royalty, but she still hated it.

Haven and Augustus got to stay a few extra days after the Johnson get-together. It was great to get more time with them, but our one regret was that the snow disappeared right before they came. In a snow-bereft pinch, bananagrams! (Millie would like me to note her left hand dictionary-ready for bitter disputes.)

The week after the get-together, Aidan was the first to fall.

The five oldest were gone to different sleepovers, leaving me with a bunch of starving ragamuffins, just like the good ol' days. It was a sweet time with just me and the littles (tho' I still rejoiced when the older girls returned!).

I was a horrible documenter when Bryan and Sarah were here. Yes, I've had a fancy camera for nine years now, but Sarah's fancy camera seems fancier, which is all the impetus this lazy mama needs to make her do all the hard work of capturing the cousins together.

I know she's got some wonderful snapshots on her camera! But I only have to blog the ones she passed along. :)

Here are beautiful Keziah and little grumpy Lark on a Sunday afternoon in matching ball gowns.

And all the cousins we had with us, all together. What a gift we have in our Owen kin!

Aidan reading comic books.

Aidan reading comic books.

Snow forts...before the thaw...before the snow...before the freeze.

Oh, my goodness. This was the sunroom earlier this week. We still had spare kitchen renovation supplies in there, and the younger children made shops at which they bought and sold all the toys and jewelry in the entire house.

This is what it looked like when the shop collapsed.

And then I caught Piper and Luci doing school in the empty toybox.

I took no pictures, but the other side of the house was covered in blankets and forts. Yes, home life has been going very smoothly, thanks for asking.

Like of Old

Your body

Small and round, soft.

The root of all creative acts
in each breath, called forth
in pulsing red and warmth.

Mystery made manifest

in each sparking cell.

Your life a net to hold it all.

A marvel formed, 

and Holy our place 

near
to witness.


________________________________________________________________

Years ago, when I was a young mama of young babies who needed each and every part of me, I shared something on here that an older mother had told me, something that sank deep and which remains still. We had been talking about life seasons and creativity and how hard it is to make or create anything when one is everything to little bodies. She encouraged me not by saying those bland words that so many do, that someday my ship would come, and all the time in the world would flow with it. Instead, she looked warmly at me with littles clinging to my legs and said, "When you're older, you'll look back and find that in many ways, this was the most creative time of your life." She reminded me of what I already knew, that no amount of making or creating, as satisfying and joyful and God-honoring and God-reflecting as it is, can compare with the creation right there with me. That sustaining life along with the Giver of that life, creating a life for life He created, is something singular and unparalleled.

Now my first littles are big, and those pockets for creativity should be more frequent. It's more my laziness and poor choices and less those small, sticky hands that keep me from making these days. Even though Christmas and New Year's have become my hotbed of making the last few years, last year I was too swamped to make a thing. This year, I felt the same. So when I actually sat down to make a few gifts on the tenth day* of Christmas, I felt like the ball had started rolling again. And then, mid-stitch, Skylark had another status epilepticus seizure lasting 45 minutes, and I was off to the hospital, and then the household was felled by the flu, and now it's time to start h'learning again, and so it goes.

I remembered that conversation from years ago when I came to the machine, the needle having been sunk in fabric for a week while we tended to each other in our sickness. And I Knew, and then I squeezed Skylark and wrote a clumsy poem, because that is what I do.

 

*Edited because I put "two days after Christmas." That's a difference of a week! I'm still flu-hazy.