Just Enough Snow

Spring arrives early in Kentucky. That's one of our favorite things about moving here from Colorado. About the time we'd be digging out of our biggest snowstorm back in Colorado, the crocuses are pushing up the earth in our flower beds. But not as early as February. Last week's short snow storm provided some early morning snow play.

There was just enough snow for sledding.

For snowballs.

Enough even for snowmen.

It's a good thing we got outside when we did. Because it was just enough.

Faught Family Photos

I like alliteration. The way closely connection words flow when they start with the same sound. How about the way closely connected people come together to capture a moment in time? Even better.

Dalrymple Family

Let the family-photographs-for-Christmas-cards season begin! First up, our friends and neighbors, the Dalrymples.

Springtime In Kentucky

Snow Globe

Whining for a White Christmas

A few days ago, our kids made Christmas wish lists, excitedly handed them to me, and with equal parts naiveté and ignorant bliss, seamlessly shifted to full-on expectation mode. They're at rest knowing we'll do all in our power as their parents to make their dreams come true. A few weeks ago, just days after we arrived in Kentucky, I saw tweets from friends back in Colorado that the first snowfall had begun. Outside my window, it was sunny, warm, and gorgeous. But I was glum. Few things elevate my spirits more than snowfall in winter. And in Colorado, my spirits were uplifted a lot. Rather than take my heartache to God in prayer, I sulked. He moved us here. He loves us. And He gives good gifts to His children. But it seemed silly to ask Him for snow here in the south. I assumed we'd left the white beauty behind.

This morning I was praying about my ingratitude and lack of faith. I even thought about my desire for snow and how selfish and childish it is to pout over rain in December. I reminded myself of a kid I saw at Target who spotted a box of Legos and demanded it, only to be denied. The scene escalated quickly, with great volume, till nearly everyone in the store was uncomfortably aware of the showdown. With fists clenched he melted down in tantrum. Pity the mother who gives in at this point. To get what you want after demanding it in anger is to teach that tantrums are what satisfy.

I'm too often like that belligerent child. When I don't trust God, I miss out on the joy of seeing Him act and witnessing His provision. Instead, I find myself receiving the gift when it does come--as it so often does--with sorrow. In those moments I'm most aware of my doubt and fear, when what I should be focused on is His goodness and grace. It's humbling. How much better to have humility in the waiting, in the absence and lack; a humility characterized by childlike faith. I want to wait in expectation, fully convinced that God is able to answer my prayers, and as loving Father, does. Ultimately it's not the gift that satisfies, but Him.

I want to be like our kids with their wish lists, not like the boy at the Target. When I wait in faith, the answers God gives are sweet, even when they're not what I imagined they'd be.

He is good.

And sometimes His answers are even better than I'd hoped for.

I'm sorry today for my doubt and fear and disappointment. But also, I'm reminded of His kindness and grace. So far, on this 4th Day of December, we've had snowflakes falling three of the four days. What a sweet gift--one I long to receive with delight over His goodness, rather than embarrassment over my faithlessness.

Thanks to our kids' earnest pleas to head outside at the first light of dawn, this morning I did.

“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them (Mark 10:14-16).

Why I Take Photos

I take photos because--even when the kids are crying, and the tree won't fit in its stand, and the saw's not sharp enough to make a fresh cut, and the tree (once in its stand) is crooked, and the new lights stop working minutes after they're strung and covered with ornaments; even when the outing and the decorating and the celebrating are flawed events--the photos have a way of capturing the best parts of life.

Here's to the hope that time and grace will season our memories the way Lightroom seasons my photos!

From There to Here

It's hard to summarize the past four weeks of packing, driving, visiting, driving, apple picking, flying, speaking, birthday celebrating, packing, flying, packing, cleaning, flying, sleeping, packing, and finally, settling. But there you have it: the summary of our journey from our home of 13 years in Colorado to our new home in Louisville, KY.

Here it is in pictures.

The Gateway Arch on our drive east from Colorado.

Alongside the tree outside our apartment window in Kentucky.

Here's a bit of the view out my window heading north from Kentucky to Ohio.

And the view behind my seat.

Ohio provided lots of cousin time. We raked the leaves and jumped in them.

This guy turned four.

And this one nearly touched the sky. Or at least the tops of the trees.

Mid-way through our trip, Steve and I headed even further north to Minnesota for a long-planned speaking engagement at Northwestern College. While there, we toured a well-known ministry.

Visited a well-known friend.

And spent two days ministering alongside MJ and Julie, founders of Future Marriage University, as well as Brittany, the chapel coordinator for NWC.

We found some quiet family time at a little lake in Michigan.

And even found a way to get a group shot (thanks to an old lawn chair and my camera's timer).

In Ohio, the girls went to a fund raising tea for my sister's adoption from Ethiopia.

Then Steve and I headed back to Colorado to finish packing and, thanks to some amazing friends, spent our last few hours in our old hometown at our favorite place: The Braodmoor.

I've been tempted to great discouragement these past few months of transition as we've relocated to a new home after 13 years in Colorado. It's far too easy to focus on what I'm waiting for -- our house to sell, the new job to come through, the move to begin, the boxes to arrive, the move to end, etc. Waiting can be, and is, wearying. It's at times frustrating, depressing, discouraging, and more. I was reading Isaiah 40:30-31 and was struck by these verses:

Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted;
 but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength;
 they shall mount up with wings like eagles; 
they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. (ESV)

Whether you're single and waiting for a spouse, married and waiting for a baby, or, like us, waiting for things related to a change of job or move, waiting is wearying. Whatever it is you're waiting for. Unless what you're waiting on is the Lord. And that's the lesson I'm learning as we've been moving from there to here.

Earlier concept for Mt. Rushmore

...would have included more of the president's bodies.

Four Great Leaders

...sure are inspiring with 60 foot tall faces carved in granite.