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As I walked in this morning from gathering eggs in our backyard, I skirted holes and blackberry starts and the tallest of the weeds, and I remembered . . .

We moved to this house with two little boys, a two-year-old and an eight-month-old. The massive backyard spoke to me of bare feet and picnics and playtime. I filled in holes and dug out blackberries, thinking of dirty little feet running pell-mell every which way. I didn’t want anyone tripping in holes or stepping on thistles.

But the two-year-old became a seven-year-old, and the eight-month-old became a six-year-old. Along came a three-year-old, as well as six chickens and a very rowdy dog. And suddenly, the backyard is full of holes again. I haven’t dug out blackberries for a very long time, and they are sprouting up all over the place. The grass is almost perpetually in need of mowing. At any given moment, you’ll find at least one tape dispenser, a scissors or two, bits of string and paper, random toy machines, and who knows what else chewed up, used up, and discarded in the grass.

No one runs around out there barefoot.

But briars and holes and miscellanea aside, it has big beautiful trees and a trampoline and a swing set and the coolest tree house ever. It has chickens and a dog and three little boys who frequent it, and I’m as thankful as the day we moved here to have that big backyard. ...continue reading →

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Thirteen weeks until we meet our newest little Baer. Twelve weeks and six days if he follows in the very nice pattern his big brothers have laid out for him by all coming the day before their due date.

It’s certainly too soon to be starting any sort of countdown, but I’ve been feeling more and more like we’re in the calm before the storm, and I am enjoying it to its fullest.

I mean, as much as you can enjoy something when you have heartburn, find yourself short of breath, have random aches and pains, and are heavier than you’ve ever been in your life. It’s the best sort of uncomfortable.

The boys' ages are seven, almost six, and almost three, and while there are bad days when nothing seems to be going right and everyone is grumpy and everyone is fighting and no one is listening and everyone is talking at the tops of their lungs, there are more good days than bad. Days where Alec comes home from school bursting at the seams with a project to do. Days where Sebastian spends hours outside riding his bike or putting his shovel to good use. Days where Emmett plays and plays and plays, without needing much of anything.

And I am so much enjoying not being quite so needed at the moment. ...continue reading →

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“I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” (Psalm 139:14)

Fearfully and wonderfully made.

Impossible not to think of that verse when you’re watching a tiny little person squirm around on a screen.

So perfectly formed, every single part. A tiny, beating heart with four chambers. Minuscule fingers and toes. A perfectly aligned row of the tiniest little bones, curving and flexing in the spine as the baby moves around. A sweet little mouth opening and closing. That little bump nose that has appeared on every single one of our ultrasounds.

Just so perfect and so precious. ...continue reading →

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“If you could do one thing to make the world a better place, what would it be?” Alec asked at the supper table the other night.

My first thought was to stop killing babies in the womb, but I couldn’t very well explain that to my seven-year-old. He has no idea that such a horrific thing is happening in the world, and his little mind would have a hard time grasping the idea that not everyone thinks that a “tiny baby” is important and precious and worthy of protecting. He’s had some other bubbles burst when it comes to the evil that exists in the world, but that’s not one I’m willing to burst yet, especially not when I’m carrying his own little very-much-anticipated little sibling inside me.

So I couldn’t say that, and as I was trying to think of something, I realized that he probably didn’t come up with that question all on his own.

“Were you asked that at school?” I asked him. And when he said he was, I asked him what his answer had been. ...continue reading →