Just A Little Lack, Please!

I said at the very beginning of this year that this was going to be the year of reading, and that is proving to be true. This has been a year of reading more than of writing, and that has been a good thing. A year of listening more than of speaking.


I have things stirring within that I want to talk about, and yet I feel the need to let them simmer. The need to keep them close and not to expose them yet. The need to allow them the space for pondering and being stored up rather than for for rapid exposure.


This is unlike me.


I like to get my thoughts out there quickly. I tend to jump around. A lot. I tend to not follow through on thoughts to their finality.


I am not very patient.


This is not the best trait in a home school parent.


We have begun our third year of homeschool and I find myself with those mornings of agitation; those mornings of not having all my ideas in order and all the plans completely in place. The agitation that the kids are two steps ahead of me and will be asking what is next before I can tell them.


The agitation of being unprepared.


I hate that.  Kind of the opposite of patience.


Part of my lack of preparation is because I am trying to keep up with reading for my own sanity…reading to fulfill my own refreshment and deepening as well as for educating the chi’dren.  I am still finding the balance.


This morning, our third Monday into our third year of home school, something truly wonderful happened. There was just that moment of “Ahhh…..yes.”


It was not a brilliant moment of insight or of imagination or of grasping a deep truth. It was not a moment of the boys hanging on truths of history. No, it was laughter during prayer and prayer that rambled and was sincere in its humor and transparency.


Prayer that ended with “I pray that Mom doesn’t ground me for this prayer.”


A morning of lingering breakfast, of reading a novel out loud over cereal and chocolate milks,  leading into prayer and Bible reading without rush. An awareness that patience is growing in myself even when I am not completely prepared, and even more importantly, that friendship is growing among three young men. Awareness that home school is right for this moment, and that history is being learned, along with math and science and English…but that they are in this moment not the most important.


See…the thing is, I cannot force these three boys to enjoy each other and to grow in affection toward one another. I cannot force the atmosphere that happened this morning. When I rush the day and have all the plans worked out to the minute, often what I want the most is simply impossible.


Sometimes what I need is my lack.


This morning was that glimpse I needed.  The awareness that my insufficiency will not overwhelm this endeavor.  The awareness that I do not have to lay everything out all at once. I can hold back and ponder and be patient. I do not have to rush. There are moments which call for some lingering.


Did you hear that? Our insufficiency will not overwhelm the endeavor called life. In our weaknesses….God’s power is made perfect.


Everything moves so incredibly fast, it seems.


Lingering and pondering…these seem like old-fashioned ideas. And yet….they are so vital. It is hard to be agitated when you are lingering and pondering.  Sometimes it is good to sit with our insufficiency a little, sometimes it gives us the space to ponder and to linger and to find that God has done something we could not do ourselves.


The rest of the day we turned our attention to our tasks with a diligence that was engaged with humor and friendship.


So, I tuck my thoughts back in close and let them simmer a little longer. I’m thankful for those of you who keep popping in to read. I’m thankful to have a place to write…and I know there are more things stirring….





Father’s Day Lessons

I have written often about my Dad in the pages of this blog. There is no question I think he stands out among men; the way he cares for my mother is unique even though he would believe it to be ordinary. The fact he thinks it ordinary is part of what makes it wonderful. The thing is…it is ordinary for him. To care for her completely is in character with who he is, and that is what I admire. He is a man of integrity and a man of compassion, and a man of strength. He is also a man of great humor and sharp intellect, and all these things wrapped together make him quite the amazing Dad.


He is of the generation that could do anything, and I still can’t imagine him facing a problem he couldn’t figure out. I think he inherited much of that from his Father, along with a deep love of the outdoors and of doing a job well.



He expanded on who his father was, though, and tempered it with great compassion and tenderness. He eased the perfection with expectations that pushed us as children but did not become impossible and taught us about faith.  He taught us to love animals and photography, and I always think of him when I meet a new dog (I inherited his ability to connect with animals) or when I take a decent photograph.












He has always been able to calm a baby, and now as my boys grow they love being around Grandpa.





Grandpa Zach












He gave me my place in history and taught me about his own history. Taught me that history matters.




He taught us that you can stand in the same spot as your great-uncles and learn something. Even just in recreating pictures.


He has taught me more than I can put into words, and I am thankful every day that he is my Dad. I admire him, I love him and always look forward to being around him.


The biggest compliment I could pay him? I married a man just like him.


A man who loves well, who acts with integrity and teaches the children that there are expectations that are difficult but not out of reach.


A man who can plan a party better than anybody, and who can enjoy Disneyland with the best of them.



A man who loves the outdoors and animals and sports, and yet who is tender toward babies and doesn’t mind carrying pink blankies.



Thankful this Father’s Day for a Dad who taught me what a Father should look like so I knew what to look for in a man. Thankful for a husband who walks it out daily and is displaying before three young men what a man of integrity, compassion, humor and faith looks like. Happy Father’s Day, Dad and Steve!

YESALLWOMEN and Maddie. And The Boys.

I have to tell you right away that this post is very different from my usual.  This one is a little more intense, the subject matter is more adult, and the article I am linking contains some pretty strong language and some views most of my friends might different.


So, why this article.


A friend linked this article this morning and it caught my attention. This friend comes from a very different point of view than mine, and yet she is compassionate and brilliant and although there is much we disagree about…I agree with her wholeheartedly about this article. I have found myself more and more aware of language and attitude toward women that needs to be caught, and I find myself incredibly thankful for a strong husband who displays to our three boys an attitude of respect and honor toward women.


Where am I heading?


This article:


Why I Give A Damn About YesAllWomen  Be warned…there is some adult content there. Read the article anyway. There are some things I might disagree with in some of the rallies for this movement. So what. The main point?


A woman should not walk through life afraid of the men around her in society. Afraid that she might be attacked. Concerned with being groped in public. Wondering about what college life will be like and what the “men” will expect from the women. A woman should expect that there will be men in society who will respond when idiots think her body is open to their perusal and even their grasp.


This Girl.



I think that is why this billboard caught so much attention, and is such a wonderful concept. Kudos to She’s Somebody’s Daughter.


(In case you can’t tell, that billboard is above an adult bookstore)


Here’s the thing. Yes, the issue is about raising my boys to understand how they treat women matters…and how they see other men treating women matters. That is vitally important. The issue is about awareness when we are out and about as women. There is a whole issue about how we carry ourselves and, I know as Christians we like to argue that women have over sexed our appearance and therefore we have some responsibility. There is no excuse for a man to grope a woman on a public street (read the article), and there is no reason for a woman to walk in any kind of fear of men in general culture. There just is no excuse. We have so many issues to deal with with sex, and this is part of the whole…teaching respect.


I so deeply within the core of who I am believe we are created by a Creator who marked us with His Image. Believing that gives no room for abuse. None.


The grotesque final development of the catcalls and the whistles of the men on the street, of the groping of the person on the subway, of the “innocent” advances of college hormone-driven college students is the continually growing sex trafficking and prostitution and pornography.


Yes, it is heavy and not wonder-filled. Yes, it is part of the story of our broken world that we would rather not sit and think through over our morning coffee. Yes, it is not what I usually write about…but it is not far from my mind when I am overwhelmed by the innocence of my Maddie.


There are amazing people around us doing truly amazing things to battle for some of these who have been caught up in the worst of this. I am thankful to say that some of these people are part of our church. If you are curious how to help  make an impact on the sex trafficking issue here in TN, check out the amazing folks at End Slavery TN.


Day to day, though? How about not laughing at the crude joke. Calling out the friend who makes the sexual comment about the woman walking by. Not just letting those things slide. When we see someone glaring offensively at a woman…commenting. Or glaring back. (I’ve done this a few times lately, especially when the man has a wedding ring on. Did it several times during my last airplane trip.) Making a point to raise our boys to treat women with honor, and raising our girls to know that they are to be treated with honor and respect.


There are some things in our broken world that we have to simply weep over and pray and walk through. There are other things where we stand up and we change things. Sometimes with small statements and awareness, and sometimes jumping in and volunteering at places like End Slavery. Sometimes, just reading an article from a different point of view that reminds us we can learn from each other.



Joy and Suffering on a Birthday.

We have had a week mixed with extremes.


Last Saturday, May 31st, was Maddie’s birthday. Her actual “day”, although we knew we were going to celebrate a week later because life has been hectic. Still. This was the day of her birth, so it already shone a little brighter. I mean, Madeleine Jane was 3. Great joy around our house.









This little one who has brought so much joy into our lives; this one who is teaching her brothers to love in a way that we as parents never could. She has taught them tenderness and kindness and laughter they never knew, right alongside fierce protectiveness.




This one, Maddie, is three.



The same day, Zach and Steve were headed out to the ice rink to get in some practice time before tryouts for ice hockey.  Then this happened:



A car driving on a separate freeway missed an overpass and came airborne over an embankment and struck Steve and Zach in their Jeep. How they walked away with minor scratches and aches is truly beyond us. The police officers who arrived on the scene expected fatalities. There should have been.


A day of joy and celebration marked by an instant of stark reality. Our lives are a mix of suffering and joy.

“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.” – Frederick Buechner



There have been a few times when the mixing of this suffering and joy have occurred:

Walking through the experience with my family, even from a distance, of my mother’s dementia, has been wrought with suffering and yet also surprisingly with joy. We have connected as a family, even though we were already close, more deeply and more honestly than we might have otherwise. Suffering brings out an honesty that makes room for joy. Although I would much rather have my mother whole and with her mind bright and her laughter full and her wit intact…there have been moments of laughter and of joy in the midst of this journey and I am thankful for them.


When we were in the midst of the clean up of the flood here in Nashville; our hearts were overwhelmed by the loss around us, including the immediate loss my husband’s parents were experiencing. We were literally throwing away priceless items by the wheelbarrow-full, and yet in the midst of that there was joy that they had survived and there was joy in the fellowship. There was joy in the community of suffering, because we were bonded by something inexplicable and yet immediate and intimate. I still remember the Pizza Hut truck driving through in the afternoon offering free personal pan pizzas to everyone who was working on cleaning up, and our cooler filled with waters and Gatorades and ice which never seemed to go empty in the blazing Tennessee heat.

BellevueFlood1 BellevueFlood










Lastly, childbirth. This has been the ultimate mixture of suffering and joy for me. Clearly there was suffering and pain, more so with my oldest two where we had natural childbirth. The pain was different than any other I have experienced, however, not simply because it was quite painful…but because it was so completely filled with anticipation and with joy. Even as I write this, I know that there are those who have experienced childbirth filled with fear and with trauma, and with no joy. I understand that, and my heart goes deeply out to them.


newmaddy 7

Our experience, though, has been suffering ending with this amazing transformation into parenthood…filled with its own fears and sufferings and trials, but filled with such a deep joy.


Which brings me full circle.  One week ago was Maddie’s birthday, and one week ago Steve and Zach had a brush with death. Suffering and joy side by side.  I do not know why sometimes we are spared suffering, or why suffer only a little at a moment rather than more deeply…any more than I know why we sometimes are blessed with such deep joys and such inexplicable wonders.


“Joy is a mystery because it can happen anywhere, anytime, even under the most unpromising circumstances, even in the midst of suffering, with tears in its eyes….”- Frederick Buechner


We will never be able to explain away every question or every pain; we will never be able to explain every joy. The brokenness of our world is right under our fingertips, and yet, the wonder is right there as well. The mark of redemption and the hand of the Creator. The knowledge that all things will be made whole, that ache that we have that things are not right…it will be fulfilled. Then there will be rejoicing complete. I wonder, though…if that rejoicing will still be informed by our suffering.

“Our dream life will end as dreams do end, abruptly and completely, when the sun rises, when the light comes. And we will think, All that fear and all that grief were about nothing. But that cannot be true. I can’t believe we will forget our sorrows altogether. That would mean forgetting that we had lived, humanly speaking. Sorrow seems to me to be a great part of the substance of human life. “ -Marilynne Robinson,  Gilead: A Novel

The fact that Jesus, after His resurrection, still had his scars of the Crucifixion seems to say that we may have reminders of the suffering…but transformed and with knowledge that makes it complete. Until then, we walk in mystery, thankful for joy and trusting in suffering.

Zachary. The Teen. Oh My.











Thirteen years ago life had changed forever. I went to bed the night before, wondering when this little one would make their appearance. I awoke at 3am and knew the time had come. I remember those first few hours wondering if this was really it…waiting to wake Steve, then waiting to call our doctor. Picking up my parents from the hotel on our way up Oak Street in Vancouver to the Women’s Hospital; Mom greeting me with a cup of ice chips for the short drive.



Steve’s folks were flying across the country as we were in labor. We were all in anticipation of this first-born of ours. Everything changes with this first child. Everything is new.








Zachary was mature from the start. He came out aware and calm; even the nurses took notice of the calm nature he had.  We never could have known how much delight parenthood would bring, and Zach, you have been the forerunner of our little clan.

zach5Every birthday is special, but there is something unique about entering these teen years. Years ago, the church we attended in Vancouver had a very wise pastor. He taught a summer series one year answering questions from the congregation, and one was about parenting. We were brand new parents, but what he said has always stuck with me: he said to never say we were dreading the teen years. He talked about how it always bothered him to hear parents tell of how much they worried about, or dreaded the coming teen years, and how instead he told his children how much he looked forward to their teenage years.  Steve and I both resonated deeply with that sentiment, and now we find ourselves with our teenage boy…we can confidently say we look forward to your teenage years.






Through the years you have surprised us and delighted us. You are smart, funny and compassionate. You amaze us with your memory and your ability to tackle new subjects and information with such ease. Ever since you were a toddler, you have been easy to talk to you and had a conversational style that was more like talking with an adult.



You are a great big brother, even if there are moments when your siblings drive you crazy…or you drive them crazy. You care for them and it is evident…and they look up to you.





















Competitive and enthusiastic in your hockey; it has been so much fun to watch you develop over the last four years







We cannot wait to see what the future holds for you, especially to see the unique giftings that God has given you. These are the years when delight is heightened, and when heartbreak happens. Everything is bigger and brighter and deeper. Remind us how amazing it all is…sometimes we forget.



We know that you will do well, whatever you decide to pursue. You have matured before our eyes in the last few months, and we are so proud of the man you are becoming.


Happy Birthday, Zachary! Welcome to Teenage-hood!!


Take a Name. Pray



Anyone who has read here for more than a day or two is familiar with this face. Miss Maddie. She truly has brought joy and delight to our home. She has expanded our hearts, all of us.


I cannot imagine what would happen to our home if she was taken from us. I don’t know how I would breathe, how I would function. I cannot imagine the terror…and I do not want to even attempt.


And yet…



These women know this terror. They know it too well, and they have raised their voices and they have caught our attention. I don’t have to say anything more. I only have to show that one image and you already know.


Young girls, kidnapped. Stolen to prove a point, to be used and to be sold…to protest against Western education. Brutally tearing apart families, and terrorizing these young girls to change the culture back to oppression.


We have all seen many of the images. We have heard the cries of the women, and hopefully we are following the story and raising our voices as we can. Sometimes it is difficult to know exactly how we “help” in these situations.


This morning I came across something I could get my arms, and my prayers, around.  I came across this article with the names of 180 of the 276 missing girls, calling for us to pray for them by name.  I thought I would add one further step…pray for one by name, and one who is nameless.


I apologize in advance that I will be quoting a fair bit of Chesterton in the coming weeks as I make my way through a few books on him, as well as many of his writings. This was in my reading this morning, and it struck me deeply as I thought of these girls:


“The world is the fortress of our family, with the flag flying on the turret, and the more miserable it is the less we should leave it. The point is not that this world is too sad to love or too glad not to love; the point is that when you do love a thing, its gladness is a reason for loving it, and its sadness a reason for loving it more….Love is not blind. Love is bound; and the more it is bound the less it is blind.”

G. K. Chesterton – Orthodoxy

We are not blind, even if we cannot and would not wish to imagine the terror these girls are facing. And now we have their names. To pray. To speak their names and to pray. As was suggested in the post I read this morning, take a name and share it…you can share here in the comments or on your FaceBook or Twitter…but take a name. Pray.

Lord…have mercy on these girls. Protect them. Shield them. Guard them. Guide them home.

I am praying for Docus Yakubu. And the nameless one with her.

Who will you pray for?





Deborah Abge, Awa Abge, Hauwa Yirma, Asabe Manu, Mwa Malam Pogu, Patiant Dzakwa, Saraya Mal Stover, Mary Dauda, Gloria Mainta, Hanatu Ishaku Gloria Dama, Tabitha Pogu, Maifa Dama, Ruth Kollo, Esther Usman, Awa James, Anthonia Yahonna, Kume Mutah, Aisha Ezekial, Nguba Buba, Kwanta Simon, Kummai Aboku, Esther Markus, Hana Stephen, Rifkatu Amos, Rebecca Mallum, Blessing Abana, Ladi Wadai, Tabitha Hyelampa, Ruth Ngladar, Safiya Abdu, Na’omi Yahonna, Solomi Titus, Rhoda John, Rebecca Kabu, Christy Yahi, Rebecca Luka, Laraba John, Saratu Markus, Mary Usman, Debora Yahonna, Naomi Zakaria, Hanatu Musa, Hauwa Tella, Juliana Yakubu, Suzana Yakubu, Saraya Paul, Jummai Paul, Mary Sule, Jummai John, Yanke Shittima, Muli Waligam, Fatima Tabji, Eli Joseph, Saratu Emmanuel, Deborah Peter, Rahila Bitrus, Luggwa Sanda, Kauna Lalai, Lydia Emmar, Laraba Maman, Hauwa Isuwa, Confort Habila, Hauwa Abdu, Hauwa Balti, Yana Joshua, Laraba Paul, Saraya Amos, Glory Yaga, Na’omi Bitrus, Godiya Bitrus, Awa Bitrus, Na’omi Luka, Maryamu Lawan, Tabitha Silas, Mary Yahona, Ladi Joel, Rejoice Sanki, Luggwa Samuel, Comfort Amos, Saraya Samuel, Sicker Abdul, Talata Daniel.Rejoice Musa, Deborah Abari, Salomi Pogu, Mary Amor, Ruth Joshua, Esther John, Esther Ayuba, Maryamu Yakubu, Zara Ishaku, Maryamu Wavi, Lydia Habila, Laraba Yahonna, Na’omi Bitrus, Rahila Yahanna, Ruth Lawan, Ladi Paul, Mary Paul, Esther Joshua, Helen Musa, Margret Watsai, Deborah Jafaru, Filo Dauda, Febi Haruna, Ruth Ishaku, Racheal Nkeki, Rifkatu Soloman, Mairama Yahaya, Saratu Dauda, Jinkai Yama, Margret Shettima, Yana Yidau, Grace Paul, Amina Ali, Palmata Musa, Awagana Musa, Pindar Nuhu, Yana Pogu, Saraya Musa, Hauwa Joseph, Hauwa Kwakwi, Hauwa Musa, Maryamu Musa, Maimuna Usman, Rebeca Joseph, Liyatu Habitu, Rifkatu Yakubu, Naomi Philimon, Deborah Abbas, Ladi Ibrahim, Asabe Ali, Maryamu Bulama, Ruth Amos, Mary Ali, Abigail Bukar, Deborah Amos, Saraya Yanga, Kauna Luka, Christiana Bitrus, Yana Bukar, Hauwa Peter, Hadiza Yakubu, Lydia Simon, Ruth Bitrus, Mary Yakubu, Lugwa Mutah, Muwa Daniel, Hanatu Nuhu, Monica Enoch, Margret Yama, Docas Yakubu, Rhoda Peter, Rifkatu Galang, Saratu Ayuba, Naomi Adamu, Hauwa Ishaya, Rahap Ibrahim, Deborah Soloman, Hauwa Mutah, Hauwa Takai, Serah Samuel, Aishatu Musa, Aishatu Grema, Hauwa Nkeki, Hamsatu Abubakar, Mairama Abubakar, Hauwa Wule, Ihyi Abdu, Hasana Adamu, Rakiya Kwamtah, Halima Gamba, Aisha Lawan, Kabu Malla, Yayi Abana, Falta Lawan, and Kwadugu Manu.





Allergic to Wonder



Everything is in bloom. There are, it seems, a limitless number of shades of green all around me at the moment. The trees and the grass and leaves on the flowers and the plants…everything is crying, “Life!”



The temperature has warmed, and the desire is there to be outside. The pull is there to work in the garden, to add a touch to the beauty that is natural.





The only problem is…I cannot breathe when I go outside. The allergies this year have been brutal. Not only does my chest tighten and I begin to cough and reach for my inhaler, but my eyelids break out in hives. The back of my knees break out as well, and my eyes become red. I last for just a few moments before I have to return to the shelter of the house and reach for something to help stave off the effects of pollen.


The beauty around me draws me, and yet because of this flaw, because of this brokenness, I just cannot take it all in.


I cannot enjoy the wonder.


Some are not bothered in the least by allergies, but thoroughly embrace the changing of the season.


Today we blew up the inflatable water slide and Sammy, Maddie and a buddy had a ball. They didn’t notice the colors of the leaves and the grass and the flowers. The didn’t notice way the water splashed and caught the sunlight.






They didn’t stop and contemplate.  They just jumped in and enjoyed the wonder. The feel of it all and the delight.



They played in the water, and they broke apart a “fossil” Sammy had made in Science class.



“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.” -G.K. Chesterton in Orthodoxy


I love this quotation from Chesterton, and have used it often, probably because I need to hear it myself. We need to kick around in the water slide a little with an almost three year old and a few boys. We need that prompt of childhood that doesn’t have to analyze the wonder, but steps in and tastes it and feels it and delights.

We have to learn to belly-laugh again!


There is something deeper, though. There are times when wonder takes our breath away. There are times when something is so beautiful – whether it is a sunset or an infant – that it brings an ache to our heart. That ache, I think, tells us that we know we cannot fully take it in because we ourselves are not completely whole yet. We cannot give ourselves completely to the wonder around us until we are whole, and we know that somehow.


Sometimes, the brokenness we have and the wounds we have gathered hover around us and cling to us. They become a boundary like the allergies in the Spring. We can see the wonder from a distance…maybe even gather the strength to embrace it for a moment, but we start to break out in hives if we get too close something beautiful for too long.  We are more comfortable with pain and with chaos and with suffering…we are more familiar with crisis.


There is much around us to weep over. The state of the girls in Nigeria. The situation that continues in Ukraine. The ongoing saga of Pastor Saeed. The abuses of children that continue to make headlines. Brokenness. Sin. Wounds.


There is, however, much around us to bring delight. There is wonder, and it is not wrong to delight in wonder….even when there are wounds around us.  This life will always be a balancing act.

This week is leading towards Mother’s Day. Like billboard reminder that my Mother is present and yet…not.


Another marker and reminder of brokenness. Hindrance to the wonder, or another opportunity to reflect?


And yet…I have four little wonders right around my feet delighting in life, and calling me into wonder and laughter and life. Balance…the awareness of the absolute wonder of love and life and spirit that God has blessed, alongside the awareness of brokenness and need for His grace and salvation.


So…we run into the wonder as we can, and we know that sometimes it will overwhelm with the very richness that makes it wonder-filled. The reality of wonder may highlight our pain at times, and may heighten our awareness of the need for healing. We may only be able to delight in wonder for a moment, and then have to run back into our shelter and recoup. Sometimes the wonder itself will bring healing, will bring refreshment.


Some day, we will be healed and whole and able to splash and delight and embrace and love whole-heartedly and with abandon. For now, maybe our artists and our singers and our children will be those who help us learn to move in our brokenness and embrace the wonder. They can draw us from our brokenness, and from our habits of hiding, and give us the voice to delight in wonder. Even when we are in pain.




The Color Green

“And the moon is a sliver of silver
Like a shaving that fell on the floor of a Carpenter’s shop
And every house must have it’s builder
And I awoke in the house of God
Where the windows are mornings and evenings
Stretched from the sun
Across the sky north to south
And on my way to early meeting
I heard the rocks crying out
I heard the rocks crying out

Be praised for all Your tenderness by these works of Your hands
Suns that rise and rains that fall to bless and bring to life Your land
Look down upon this winter wheat and be glad that You have made
Blue for the sky and the color green that fills these fields with praise

And the wrens have returned and they’re nesting
In the hollow of that oak where his heart once had been
And he lifts up his arms in a blessing for being born again
And the streams are all swollen with winter
Winter unfrozen and free to run away now
And I’m amazed when I remember
Who it was that built this house
And with the rocks I cry out

Be praised for all Your tenderness by these works of Your hands
Suns that rise and rains that fall to bless and bring to life Your land
Look down upon this winter wheat and be glad that You have made
Blue for the sky and the color green

Be praised for all Your tenderness by these works of Your hands
Suns that rise and rains that fall to bless and bring to life Your land
Look down upon this winter wheat and be glad that You have made
Blue for the sky and the color green that fills these fields with praise”

Rich Mullins