On Top of the World!

I'll never forget my first airplane descent into Vermont when Steve and I came here for our house hunting trip eight years ago. Steve said, "Look out the window, Jul. Those are the Green Mountains!!" Nothing like the Rockies, or even the Sierra Nevada, but this little piece of earth had a certain appeal . . . rolling, green and beautiful.
Soon after we moved here, Steve outfitted the family with hiking boots. Who was this grad student turned woodsman, I wondered?! We all acquiesced to the hiking plan. That fall, we all went up the Nebraska Notch trail (baby Abigail was in the backpack), but our great idea for a family outing was soon foiled by a puddle of muck and a couple of tired (and tiresome) toddlers.
Not ones to give up, we tried other "gentle hikes for families" which met with some success. Then, for the last few years, Steve has progressed and has taken the older kids on a "strenuous" hike up Camel's Hump. I have always wanted to go, but have been sequestered at home with various combinations of little ones.
Well, this year, thanks to a lovely babysitter named Lydia, I got my chance. We took our neighbors Nicole and Hannah along (you'll see them in the photo). We had an amazing climb! Camel's Hump is the tallest undeveloped mountain in Vermont. This means that you really earn the view--no riding a gondola to this vantage point! In the photo of me and Steve at the top, you can see Lake Champlain in the distance. I finally got a picture of Rachel on my blog too. She is good climber for a six year old! And you can see that Abigail has certainly outgrown her baby backpack!

Simple Things--Reflections on Bubbles and Butterflies

By the time you're ten or twelve, the fascination with simple things like butterflies and bubbles is pretty much over. For my older children, the world has gotten pretty big. Michael, for instance, is waiting with bated breath to learn whether or not the International Astronomical Union will vote to include three new planets in our current solar system lineup. Anna and Samuel, though, aren't too concerned about such things. For them, the world is still small and deliciously new--full of paths to be explored, bits of nature to be discovered, and words to be practiced: "Bubble, bubble!"

The other day, Anna watched a moth on the front porch rail opening and closing its fragile, intricately detailed wings. With delight, she squealed "Peek-A-Boo," as if a new playmate had joined her game. I may have overlooked the small beguilement of watching this miracle of nature, and reflecting on the metamorphosis that had brought all this to pass, if not for her infant pleasure. Though at times I feel a bit stretched between two worlds--preteens and toddlers--I know this is my Heavenly Father's way of teaching me, again and again, to savor the joys of simple things!

Waxing Poetic

An excerpt from my journal entry written on July 19, 2006:


Most of my life is filled with ordinary days. I love ordinary days, finding joy in the simple routines of making my bed each morning, reading with my children, joining hands around the table before dinner every night. But sometimes these sweet routines are interrupted to make room for peculiar pleasures not typically afforded by the prevailing order of things. Here is the story of one of those marvelous interruptions.

Last night, Emma had an exquisite treat as we were able to share an evening with her very special friends, Nicole and Hannah. We simply took a walk along the beach, but the memory of that evening has already become precious to me and one that will be forever captured on the canvas of my heart.

Though I brought my camera with me, the pictures are but a dim reflection of the true sense of the moment. There was life in the colors of the sunset—the cathedral of glowing red sky resplendent with floating clouds lit pink by the setting sun. The salt air, the sound of the surf, and the cry of the gulls created a certain kind of seaside serenity which made time stand still. And three childhood friends, at once little girls yet almost grown, were talking and giggling, flip-flops in hand, and tickling their toes in the gentle tide.

The splendor of creation, the wonder of childhood and the deep love of a mother’s heart all joined together on a warm July night to remind me of my Heavenly Father’s lavish grace to me. It was a pivot of kairos, time bursting forth with meaning. Though it was as ethereal as the ocean mist gathering in billows on the shoreline, I will treasure its memory forever. Bound by time and space, I am, yet in that moment, I touched the Face of eternity. Oh, I am undeserving of such richness of delight.