There will still be a recap of spring break, or maybe not, but the big news around here is the flood we’re in the midst of.  The kids asked this morning, eyes wide, if it was possible for a flood to be big enough to cover our house, our city, our world.  We remembered together Father’s promise to never destroy the earth with a flood.  And, if He was planning on coming close, surely he’d have given us enough advance notice to outfit a boat with necessities like bottled water and Liz Lovelies and some absorbent towels. Surely. So, we’re assuming it’s just a minor flood, but you know what they say about assuming…
I have a sweet farmer from Hudsonville holding 26 new chickens for me.  The coop is in several inches of standing water.  Our little creek has become a lake, rubbish and branches swirling around the muddy water, bridge totally covered, newly sprung swamp cabbage swamped.  And so what is a girl with four children, 26 chicks on hold and a keloid scar named Steve to do but throw everyone in their bathing suits and let them explore the safer parts?

You know how sometimes you’re watching your kids running through flood waters and splashing and having fun and then you realize that the water is filtering through two years worth of chicken crap that has built up in the coop and is heading downstream to swirl around your children’s ankles and you think to yourself that perhaps letting them play in the swollen waters is sort of like taking them swimming at the waste water treatment plant?  You’ve been there right?
And then you start thinking how floods are strange things.  How the flood in the Bible was both the curse and the blessing at one time.  That the very thing that destroyed the earth also cleansed it and signaled a new start.  And how sin is so often like that, funny enough.  So often the thing that drowns us and saves us because when we are in over our heads in it, just totally mired down and sinking in it, Father stands on the water and beckons us to come.  Shows us that the chaos of fallenness is under His feet and that we need only walk.  To hold on and walk to put it under our feet too. That trust is the life ring that saves us in a drowning world and delivers us safely to Father.  And then we watch the muddy swirls of our sin recede into the floodwaters of His grace. And we are saved.  And when the waters have receded, there will be teeny shoots of new life and birds who have returned to build nests and plants that are reaching deep to put down roots.   There are always teeny shoots of new life and other growing things in the wake of floods.  That’s how it works.  Floods are funny things.
This is me being real.  Thankful that Father has seen fit to create new life from the floods of my own sin. Thankful that we can cancel our reservations to Great Wolf Lodge and just take the kids to a little lake in Chernobyl for a summer vacay.
How are you weathering the storms?


spring break up.

I’ve been meaning to catch you up on our spring break.  The one that left Lucy stranded with me on an iceberg, stuttering into the wind about how it didn’t feel much like spring, curly lips turning blue and eyes watering in the arctic wind. The one that saw us celebrating two birthdays: Grant’s 11th and Jenn’s, well, 11th ish.  The one I will write about so I have a record of it so that if I ever forget what we did and how we laughed and how very much fun we had together. But that’s a post for another day. Because today we, just husband and I, flew the coop and landed in the Big Easy.  The place where every restaurant serves gumbo and the word voodoo is sprinkled liberally around all the shops and bars.  A town that smells from the Mississippi River to the upper Garden District of hangovers and horse piss.  It’s an interesting place.  And we’re exploring it, tentatively surely, but we are exploring.

Meanwhile the Smalls are home with our favorite sitter and her nearly one year old baby, who they are all doting over.  Grant was fitted for instruments today and fell in love with the Baritone, heaven help us. Could we not start out with a piccolo or a flute?  Peter whispers into the phone how cute Baby Molly is so no one hears that he has already fallen totally in love with her.  Tess lisps to me that Baby Molly has puller her headband out. Twice. Can you stand it? And Lu has been caring for the baby all day, helping to change her diapers and bossing Molly’s mama around, I’m sure.  They are happy and we are happy and this whole thing is a gift we don’t accept lightly.
More to come from New Orleans and spring break (even though winter is refusing to let go it’s grip).
This is me being real.  Have you ever been to New Orleans?  If so, what must we see before we head home on Saturday?