The Nursery

We have the nursery completed.

Really done.

I honestly have a hard time believing it. Everything that I had in my mind's eye to do in this room... we did. I have never been able to say that about any room in any of our homes ever before... not even a nursery. I'm sure it will continue to change as Baby grows, but - as "done" as a room can get - it's done.

And I am immensely thankful.

That last sentence in itself makes me want to cry. I know I just said I wasn't much of a sentimental blogger, but you get me going on babies... and I'm done for. I am so thankful that we were able to make this room. To give our baby girl a bright, cheerful, clean place to rest and play. (Remember the "before"?) But, also, because the room is for me, too. I've mentioned before that it's very likely Baby will be our last little one, and I am so glad to have this one finished nursery. This one little room that expresses so much of what my mama heart feels about the privelege to nurture and cherish a little soul entrusted to us.

Physically speaking, the room was inspired by the scrap quilt created by my grandma and great-grandma many decades ago now. And also the pink & blue vintage piggy bank that is exactly like the one my sister and I had in our yellow bedroom as little girls. But, emotionally speaking, it is inspired by motherhood... by family... the joy and wonder of having a baby in the house. This baby. Our baby.

I wanted this room to celebrate her. And all the love that surrounds her. And to be a room meant for enjoying her.

Have you ever read the poem, Song for a Fifth Child? That link gives a little of the author's background, and I'm struck by how similar the ages of her children were to our own. I started out in my motherhood as such a "doer". A listmaker. But time and perspective have a way of mellowing us. I'm sure sometimes I take my gypsy ways a bit too far now, but I still so much appreciate the overall reminder the poem gives. It's really the perfect sentiment for Baby's nursery photos.

For our fifth child...

Mother, oh mother, come shake out your cloth!
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby, loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.)

Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down, cobwebs.

Dust, go to sleep.

I'm rocking my baby.

Babies don't keep.

Blogging Is A Gift... (and a phone dump)

Blogs are so weird.

I mean, really. When you think about it... they're weird. People sharing SO much with whoever cares to read. People feeling like they know people they've never met. Look at my sink. Look at my lunch. Look at my laundry.

Weird.

Do you ever wonder why we read them? Or do you ever stop and think about why on earth we write them?

(Wait... we need some photos... let's phone dump and chat at the same time...)



(Look at my globe).
I'll introspect about my motives and the nuances of those motives until the cows come home.

It's kind of annoying.

As I am naturally analytical like that, from time to time I analyze my motives behind continuing to keep a blog. Why, in the little bits of free time I get, would I choose to document and share my bathroom mirror with the Internets?




I usually need to have a pretty good reason for why I do what I do. I tend toward being intense like that. How is this making good use of my time? How is this benefitting my family... my marriage? How is this glorifying God?

Those are all, of course, well and good to ask.








But, then my mind takes it a step farther. And I start to analyze myself to the point that I begin to see what seems like a fairly innocuous hobby as a thinly veiled attempt to seek approval... recognition... praise.

And I wonder all over again? Why am I really blogging? Why do I feel compelled to not only take a phone pic of my chicken dinner but also share it with people I've never met? Am I trying to show off? To get more "likes"? More comments? More people to tell me things that I love to hear... about my pictures, my kids, my home, my life...








It can all seem just so grossly self-promoting. Me. Me. MEEEEE!!!

Gag.

Isn't my life supposed to be about bringing glory to God? To Jesus Christ? Not to my self!

See? It gets deeeeeep very quickly round here, y'all. Profound, even.








I am nothing if not terribly profound.






But, then, right about the time that I'm about to stop blogging altogether... or Instagramming... or decorating our home... or whatever I've been recently picking apart in my brain and declaring as worldly drivel, a little voice comes in. It says, "Wait a minute, Jacci... you know some things about yourself at this point in your life. You know you tend to over analyze. You know you tend to be intense. You know you need to quit. picking. things. apart."




Consider that you are no longer under the law but have been given freedom in Christ.

Consider that freedom as an invitation to receive even earthly gifts gladly, with thanksgiving, and enjoy them.

Consider the many beneficial things that come from blogging... from Instagramming... from sharing when you're wired to be a sharer.




My Father God is not a kill joy. I am allowed... no, expected... to enjoy the gifts He gives.

Cameras are gifts. Our home is a gift. Our children are gifts. My time with them each day... this fleeting time... gift.


And blogging? As long as it doesn't steal time away from my calling to care for my family and home... make me lazy... encourage idleness... or puff me up. As long as it doesn't get in the way of my devotion to my God... as long as it encourages me toward Him and not away from Him... blogging is a gift.

I know not everyone "gets" it. Some in my own family think it's beyond weird. That's okay. But, truly, for me... this blog has been a gift.


I enjoy it.


I believe I can glorify Him by growing in thankfulness and enjoying all His gifts. Even seemingly silly ones like my little Woohooie.

I am thankful for it. I am thankful for encouragement... from you guys! I am thankful for documented years. Thoughts written down and worked through.




And I'm thankful for eyes to see and ears to hear, among other wonderful things, that my God is a Father... Who gives good things to His beloved children...


...often just for His glory and our ultimate enjoyment in Him.

Amen.