children – Page 4 – everything He gives

Hanging on

August 18, 2015 MarthaKimballLeave a comment

Last week around this time I was scurrying to pack up for a quick little two day-ish visit to one my long-time best college girlfriend’s house in Tennessee. To my shame, I haven’t made the trek to visit her in probably 3 or so years, though she has graciously come to visit me or meet up somewhere multiple times since then. The busyness of these days, the super tight budget that makes a few hours drive a costly luxury–these are the things that have kept me away. Then one day you realize you hardly talk anymore, and it’s okay because you know you have a long stretch of history to draw from and that you will pick up again where you left off. Even still, life is whirring by, some of our children are school-aged, and the easy on-a-whim hang outs are becoming harder. I think as I’ve gotten into these years of parenting a handful of little ones I’ve come to realize how difficult it seems to be to make new friends. I’m not giving up on it, but the challenge has certainly made me treasure my old friendships more and long to do a better job keeping up with them. I’m sure it’s the introvert in me, but I’d rather have a few friendships that go deep than to have my arms stretched full wide with a bunch of shallow ones. Anyway, these days are often lonely and can leave you bewildered wondering who are the friends who are really in the trenches with you? Who you can call or text and ask for prayer in a moment of weakness, desperation, darkness, or celebration? Who are the friends who will stand by you when you are at your worst and gently call you back to the truth? Who are the ones who will be brave and faithful enough to speak words that feel a whole lot like wounds that later prove to be kisses? These are the friends I want to hold on to. The ones I want to make space in the budget for. These are the ones I hope to be roomies with again one day, when we are old widows clinging to rickety walkers, after we’ve buried husbands and kissed great-grandchildren’s newborn skin. These years with young ones will stretch our friendships to the max, but I hope we can always pick up again and find our way back to each other. It was a true gift to spend this time with my sweet friend and her three girls. What a profound wonder to see our little ones all playing together, to share hearts late into the night as we barely hold our eyes open. She sent me off on Thursday with a travel mug full of fresh hot coffee, and in every way I felt full. Hang on to your friends, girls. It’s so worthwhile.

Whatever is life-giving

August 6, 2015August 6, 2015 MarthaKimball5 Comments

It’s Monday again, the beginning on a fresh week. I’m always thankful, the familiar rhythms we keep here, all the while holding loosely as we ride the waves of change. I’m not big into change, I like our “normal.” Since finding out my four-year-old’s diagnosis of Celiacs disease, I’ve been trying to stay afloat in the wild waves of change.

A few weeks back I read these ancient words by John Chrysostrom:

“Lord give us tears and remembrance of death.”

What a thing to pray. Give us tears, Lord. I think of how I’ve felt since finding out the news about Phoebe–like there is an ocean of tears I want to cry but can’t access. It’s just down there somewhere, stuffed beneath.

Give us tears, Lord. Sometimes we just need the release of a good cry.

A few weeks ago I fed our family, stacked clean dishes to drip dry in the sink, kissed them all goodnight and folded tired legs into my car in the dusky evening. I drove over to my friend Megan’s house in a weary silence. She and her husband have a small hobby farm nearby and have been living a simple organic lifestyle, as well as practicing the GAPS diet with their family as part of their journey to health + wholeness. As I continue researching ways to heal my Phoebe’s digestive system to help her grow and gain weight, I needed to talk with someone who’s been down this road ahead of me.

Megan and I used to go to the same church years ago when we lived in a different town. We found each other then with another couple and formed the sweetest little tight-knit community. We discovered I carried our first baby, and Megan discovered she was losing hers. We splintered a bit, then. We took a job forty-five minutes away, and they helped us move in and settle. We said we would stay close, but the distance and busyness of new seasons filled our days. Then they moved closer to where we were, and we ended up taking a job that moved us back toward them once again. Now we are a few minutes away from each other. I haven’t spent much time with her over the past few years, but lately we’ve been trying to squeeze in more visits. These years with young babes and trying to get a start as a family with first homes, it fills our days to the brim.

Pulling up her snaking drive, gravel crunching under tires, the summer evening silence broken by the bleating of newborn baby goats, the quibbling of chickens, the sing-song of crickets. I walked in, we greeted with tired smiles and hugs. Her children were tucked into bed, her husband out of town for the week.

I love being in another woman’s home, I’ve realized–observing her ways, her patterns. It is so sweet to watch someone’s familiar paths–the way she pulled on her farm boots and grabbed a bucket of feed to take to the goats. Our chatter and commiserating and quiet laughter as she tore a handful of mint from her garden, steeping it directly in water, pressing it through, handing me a steaming mug. We sit on her front porch for a long while in the summer evening cool and quiet. Later we move inside, she cuts open the package of a whole chicken, pulling out a drawer, grabbing that particular knife for chopping, the way her fingers unconsciously trace the onion, pulling back the papery skins.

We talk, we pour out honest emotions, we open hearts–all while she moves in the quiet rhythms of her home, her needful tasks. Throwing a load of laundry in (as she apologizes). Wiping out the bag which held her raw milk pick up. Preparing the chicken to boil overnight.

Around her home scriptures were taped, phrases of healing were hung. Index cards taped above the sink forming the shape of a cross. A large paper with the word TRUTH written on it, surrounded by phrases and scriptures such as “God’s pearl” (with scritpure), and “Deserving of watch-care” and “Created to be a nurturer,” hangs in the kitchen above her stove. Stories everywhere. Well-worn paths.

Give us tears and remembrance of death.

Remembrance of death–sounds morbid, and on first reading, my soul shrinks back from this. No, I don’t want to spend time remembering death. But then I think of my Savior’s words: “Remember me. This is my body, broken for you. This is my blood, poured out for you.” He wants us to remember Him, specifically to remember His death. We like to speak of our risen Savior, and indeed our faith is in vain and we are of all people most to be pitied if He did not rise from the dead. Why do our souls resist remembering His death, especially when He told us to do it often? Whatever Jesus instructs us to do, it is life-giving to us. Maybe we live best when we remember keenly our finality.

When I asked her what their whole experience has been with these extreme dietary changes, Megan answered, “Martha, it’s been life-giving to us.” It’s probably what struck me most and stayed with me after our conversation. These changes, these new rhythms to be learned–they are not easy, but they are proving to be life-giving. I am finding the same to be true.

It’s been two months since we began this journey toward a healthy and growing little girl via dietary and lifestyle changes. We are still researching and toying with the GAPS diet and a grain-free/dairy-free diet, but going gluten-free as a bare minimum has been fairly easy. Our rhythms are different. The toaster + bread machine have been replaced by our blender/food processor. Bowls of nuts or rice are often soaking by our sink. Ribbons of zucchini have replaced pasta. Our buying has changed: grass-fed beef gelatin, Kombucha, bulk whole chickens to make weekly portions of bone broth. I’ve been learning about best sources for bulk raw nuts, for filling out pantry with coconut flour, almond flour, medjool dates, tapioca flour, xantham gum, coconut butter, coconut oil, coconut milk.

Papers, printed recipes + stacks of books are scattered all over my kitchen counter. The house cleaning suffers. This process is daunting in many ways, exciting in others, especially as I start to feel a difference and feel better, to see my appetite changing and my body responding. Phoebe seems to be responding, too. Her eyes seem just the slightest hint brighter. Her random occasional low-grade fevers have stopped. She isn’t as tired. Her appetite seems to be improving.

It is difficult, as any major change would be, but it is giving us more life, and for that we are thankful.

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A special thanks to Megan and other friends like her (Wendy, Caroline, Liz + Anna, to name a few) who have reached out, shared a ton of resources, words of encouragement and hope. I have found them and their stories to be the most helpful, but I have also been really helped by Carrie Vitt’s cookbook “The Grain-Free Family Table” as well as Danielle Walker’s cookbooks “Against All Grain” and her blog.

family + summer gatherings 5: these blue mountains

July 28, 2015July 28, 2015 MarthaKimballLeave a comment

While family was in town visiting, we squeezed in as many picnics as we could. This one, up at Craggy Gardens, one of our favorite spots. After dinner we hiked up above the picnic area to catch this view and this gorgeous sunset in the dusky light. Truly breath-taking. I’m super thankful for my brothers and the way they love on my kiddos. My little ones adore them (and the Aunties, too!) and hopefully they will one day realize what a sweet gift it is to have lots of family that loves on them and spends time with them! And I’m thankful for my parents who taught us to love the outdoors, still so hip + young and able to get out and enjoy God’s creation.

summer + family gatherings 4: into the clouds we go

July 21, 2015July 21, 2015 MarthaKimballLeave a comment

There will always be something other-worldly and magical about this place to me. While my sister + her fam were visiting, we headed up to Black Balsam, a nearby hiking spot rife with stunning vistas, wild blueberries, rocky outcroppings, and dramatic clouds + sky. We had a little picnic along the way and meandered back down, always thankful to get up above our ordinary lives and look over them from a fresh perspective.

family + summer happenings 2

July 10, 2015July 10, 2015 MarthaKimballLeave a comment

All the fun we had with *almost* all the babies together (we missed you so much, Emerson)! Here, some moments from the morning of Philippa’s dedication at our church, as well the kids riding bikes together. Time together is truly the best gift!

When Your Faith Survives

June 18, 2015 MarthaKimball4 Comments

The house is quiet. Oh, glorious quiet. The first hints of light are streaking across the sky, the earliest birds beginning their song. Bleary-eyed, I try to gather my wits, my scattered thoughts. I try to focus my mind on the words I’m reading instead of letting them run in and out of my brain like a stream of water while I keep fretting over the days’ concerns.

I hear the faint creak of their door open, the hushed padding of feet over the floor. She always runs when she turns the corner and sees me in that chair, sucking her fingers, hair wild in every direction. Warm legs as soft as silk, long and scrawny, slide under the blanket next to mine. We sit there like that for a long time, me reading quietly (or aloud if she asks) and sipping coffee slow, her sucking fingers and cozied up, skin warming skin.

It’s one of my favorite times of the day, I think it is hers, too.

When I held her for the first time 4 1/2 years ago, my heart burst wide open in love. I know I’ve probably always struggled with fear, but a whole new world of fear opened up to me when I held that impossibly tiny, wrinkly warm little bundle. This kind of love–it’s painful. To love this much is be wide open to a world of unknown hurts.

We had perplexing growth/feeding issues with her from the start. She always seemed okay, never titled “failure to thrive,” but never really thriving either. Since she was my first, I figured a lot of it was normal. Still, the niggling fear that something could be wrong, that something wasn’t quite right kept nagging me. We pursued every medical option that could have been a possibility, never finding anything. I would push the feeling down.

In the dark of night, fears would loom heavy. Please don’t allow any harm to come to her, Lord. Please keep her healthy, help her to grow. Please help her to eat, to have an appetite. (It’s funny how in parenting, you have no idea the battles you will face. Never did I expect to pray so much over a child to eat and have an appetite and to grow.) The desperate and anxious prayers of a mother over her child would roll over and over in my mind as I would try to quell them and get back to sleep.

The feeling that something wasn’t right has never really gone away. My second and third born children have not had any similarities to her eating/vomiting/growth issues. Finally, at her 4 year check-up, we pursued some testing again.

It’s been a little over two weeks since we received her diagnosis: Celiacs disease. Finally it all makes sense. Relief flooded in at the same time as a whole new level of fear. I hung up the phone after receiving the phone call and my fingers flipped through pages desperate:

Sure, in our day, we hear a lot about Celiacs, and the gluten-free diet is a current fad diet. But to hear that my “perfect” little girl has an autoimmune disease–it shook me. That trippy weird slow-realization that falls over you that nothing will ever quite be the same again. A new normal will be found, but life as you knew it is over. Part of me wanted to tell myself I was being a big baby. This is awesome news, this is SO MUCH better than it could have been, there is so much to be thankful for. And all of that is true! Still, we are not ever helped when we push down our true feelings and scold ourselves for feeling that way. No, we are to run to the mercy seat with those feelings. We run to our God, who is a refuge for us and who urges us to come and pour out our hearts to Him, cast all our cares on Him, find mercy + grace in our time of need. We let ourselves feel what we are really feeling about this news/trial/difficulty and we tell Him. We pour it out in the safety of His company, the privacy of His all-knowing, already-knowing presence. We let Him get to our hearts, tend to them. If we don’t do this from the beginning, I think we risk hardening our hearts, cutting them off, and that is ripe ground for the seeds of apathy + bitterness to grow.

So when I was honest with myself, I felt betrayed. We had prayed and prayed that God would work in her body, heal her body. We had pursued multiple tests over the years. We had fought the issue when friends + family were all saying to let it go, that she was fine, just quirky.

What do you do when God allows the thing you have plead with Him never to do?

What do you do with that?

A few days after the diagnosis, we were driving in the quiet rain on our way to church. A flood of words came to me, and I scribbled them as fast as I could into my journal:

Sometimes the greatest gift God can give us is the gift of betraying us. The gift of the bad news. The unsettling, scary diagnosis. Because when our faith survives what we thought our souls could never survive–that is a gift worth more than gold.

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. (James 1:2-4)

In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. (1 Peter 1:6-7)

We are afraid of deep waters, resistant, and of course we would be. But our God is a perfect parent–our parent who is more about perfecting us than pampering us.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you. (Isaiah 43:2)

He will at various times in our lives lead us through deep waters. How else can He teach us, how else can He allow us to experience His everlasting arms underneath that keep us afloat?

The eternal God is your dwelling place,
and underneath are the everlasting arms. (Deuteronomy 33:27)

We resist the fiery trial–but it is only in the fire that our faith is really tested, proved, purified. It’s only when we come through the fire that we can know: this ground we stand on is solid. Real. Firm. Unshakeable. The mountains may move and tremble; He remains the same.

God is our refuge and strength,
    a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,
    though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam,
    though the mountains tremble at its swelling. (Psalm 46:1-3)

We cannot hope to be unaffected by the brokenness of this world. We cannot expect not to suffer as His children the same afflictions and hardships common to man.

For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. (Matt. 5:45)

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world. (John 16:33)

But He will carry us. He will not change. He is good, unfailing.

Let’s not measure His love for us by the hand He deals us. Look at Christ: what hand did His Father deal Him? He was perfect, sinless. Yet He had nowhere to lay His head. He obeyed perfectly, was perfectly upright; yet He was despised, rejected by men. The very ones He created, the ones He came to rescue hated + betrayed Him, cried out for His blood. He plead with His Father to deny Him the cross, to take away that cup, but the Father did not. And Jesus surrendered to His Father’s will.

He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? (Rom. 8:32)

Let’s not measure His love for us by the hand He deals us. Let’s measure His (immeasurable) love for us in the way He gives Himself to us unfailingly, continually–the way He remains with us. The way He carries us. The way He gives more grace. The way He gives us JESUS–and all the rich inheritance of promises found in Him.

It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. (Deuteronomy 31:8)

No matter what comes–our lives are hidden in Christ. Our future is secure. And it strikes me: this is the bi-focus of the Christian faith. What are bifocals? A pair of glasses containing lenses with two parts with different focal lengths. Our focus in the Christian life must always be bi-focal: at once seeing the present and also looking beyond the present, through it really, to the future. Let us look to our eternal future, our future grace and find strength in this moment of need.

“…looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross.” (Hebrews 12:2)

Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus,
Just to take Him at His Word;
Just to rest upon His promise,
And to know, ‘Thus saith the Lord.

Jesus, Jesus, How I trust Him
How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er
Jesus, Jesus precious Jesus
Oh for grace to trust Him more.

Mother’s Day

May 11, 2015May 11, 2015 MarthaKimball3 Comments

My soul has felt a bit crowded lately. I’ve realized that I “write” constantly, usually in my head because I often don’t have time to scribble down the thoughts in between dirty diapers that need to be changed and sibling squabbles that need to be mediated. I’ve found that whatever I’m learning, whatever God is teaching me needs to find expression, usually in the form of writing. It’s how I make sense of it, but more than that, it’s part of the process. We come to God thirsty, He pours into our souls, and we fill up, we overflow, we spill over. Writing is how I spill over.

But lately? There hasn’t been much time or space and thus, a crowded soul.

Yesterday was Mother’s Day. It was one of the best days I’ve had in a while, and it was so simple. Breakfast + coffee made for me by my husband and the kids. A bouquet of azaleas picked from the yard. Worship at church with our spiritual family. Then we grabbed a few items for a picnic and headed up to one of my favorite spots on the Blue Ridge Parkway near where we live.

We talked about it on the drive up, my husband and I, that there has always been some part of me that craves getting up on the mountains, in the mountains, yes, but more so up on the very heights of the land. Where the wild whipping wind and the faintest flapping wing of a bird riding the updraft are music to the moment. It was perfect yesterday. Holy ordinary. We captured a few moments, chatted with a few other hikers out enjoying the glorious day. We played and laughed and got a little sun-burned. The landscape was moody and dark with rain clouds one moment, pierced by sun rays the next.

I can’t find words for it, but it just does something for me. So spacious, so abundant, so other-wordly and wild, it feels like my soul can expand and exhale. A perfect little escape for a weary momma with an overcrowded, busy soul.

To all the mommas out there, I hope you had a sweet Mother’s Day, feeling the celebration and the smile of God over you as He so highly esteems your every effort + work of faith!

easter

April 7, 2015 MarthaKimball1 Comment

This Easter was special in so many ways. I’m learning to treasure this time of year more + more as I continue to learn about the significance of the resurrection of Jesus for my day-to-day living. My children, each year, are more able to share in that understanding and excitement. It was Philippa’s first Easter and the first year my older two were able to really enjoy hunting for hidden eggs. It was so sweet to see Phoebe intentionally leave eggs for Noah to find and hear her calling out to him, telling him where to look. It was the first year we sort of had a very simple kind of Passover meal (though I forgot the unleavened bread and couldn’t get the readings to print in time, and we had it on Easter day instead of Maundy Thursday). A certain four-year-old of mine got her first pair of “heels” for Easter, much to daddy’s chagrin. What was super special and such a humbling honor was the opportunity to share with my church family a little about my story of getting lost in the snowy Colorado backcountry 14 years ago and God’s hand in preserving my life (which you can read more about here), along with a few others who shared particular ways God showed Himself strong on their behalf in the midst of difficult times. It made our Easter worship at church extra special for me! It was pretty much impossible this year to get a good family picture, but we captured what we could. Hope your day was special celebrating our risen + living Savior with loved ones!

Let There Be Light

March 5, 2015March 5, 2015 MarthaKimballLeave a comment

This little board book for children is absolutely LOVELY. I’m always looking for ways to teach my children God’s Word and to bring Scripture to life for them. The illustrations are truly stunning, and this book has been lying around the house for a few weeks now, with the kids constantly poring back over the magical yet life-like drawings. This book aims to break down the story of Creation found in Genesis 1-2, illustrating how God formed all that we see from nothing, culminating in His creation of mankind, the crowning glory of His creative work. The artwork and text is engaging for young readers (intended for ages 4-8) and also agrees with the biblical account, which is, of course, important to us! I love the way the illustrator imaginatively depicted God’s person in each of the pictures, whether as a form of light or as a hand hidden within the illustration, displaying Him as intimately involved with the work of creating.

A boardbook edition of the popular Let There Be Light, the story of Creation from Nobel Peace Prize winner, bestselling author, and cultural icon Archbishop Desmond Tutu paired with Nancy Tillman, the phenomenally successful New York Times bestselling children’s author/illustrator of On the Night You Were Born.

I would highly recommend it as a delightful read, and as a tool for teaching the concept of Creation in an easy-to-break-down and understand way to your children! To pick up a copy of your own, click HERE.

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I received a complimentary copy of this book from HarperCollins Christian Publishing in exchange for my honest review. All opinions expressed are my own.

From Today

February 24, 2015February 24, 2015 MarthaKimballLeave a comment

We were surprised with a decent snow (for our neck of the woods) this morning! It’s a sweet reminder to me that God is always working, even while we’re sleeping, covering the old with something new, giving us the gift of a fresh start and new mercies every morning. I’m grateful for the delight of snow on this otherwise ordinary Tuesday. Though we’re still battling some sniffly noses and aching ears over here (please, germs, go away!), we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get out for a little bit and play in it!