Isolation, busyness, and exhaustion seem to punctuate the days for many. We yearn for time to connect with others, yet there never seems to be enough time or energy. How do we start making connections within the church, the workplace, anywhere? This is a question we have been asking over and over in our Bible study group. Our homework, due tonight, is to bring ideas on how we can bring people together within our church family and how to spread that fellowship out into the community.

In a world that idolizes activity, our task was challenging. I had spent days thinking about my ideas. The answer came rushing in about the same time I watched my littlest dart across the street to hug one of her best buddies. Sitting back and watching that scene unfold, reminded me of Jesus’ admonition to have a childlike faith. I think he also meant a youthful spirit as well.

For an answer Jesus called over a child, whom he stood in the middle of the room, and said, “I’m telling you, once and for all, that unless you return to square one and start over like children, you’re not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in. Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God’s kingdom. What’s more, when you receive the childlike on my account, it’s the same as receiving me. Matthew 18:2-5

Her jubilant dash reminded me of a time years ago, when my sweetie and that same curly-haired child shared a best friend.  When Sal’s lifelong bestie moved in, M would often wander two doors down to play with our baby girl.  Upon discovering that Sal wasn’t home, M would stay and shadow my husband, assisting in all sorts of tinkering projects.  When her parents would come a short while later, they would be shocked that Sal was nowhere in sight and M was happily hanging out with my man.

Daniel quickly brushed away any nonsense about his little buddy being in the way or slowing him down. He cherished the company of a sweet little girl.  The message was clear: happiness and fulfillment can be found in the unassuming places of the ordinary.

During my ruminating over our homework question, I have thought of all the buzz-word ideas, even thinking of how to use social media to help us find time to fellowship with others. Then, God gently reminded me that lasting bonds are formed in the simplest ways, and he used a childlike spirit to reinforce his message to capture my heart.

The story made simple is this.  The parents and grandparents of some dear friends of ours and our children moved into the house across the street a few years back.  The new neighbors have spent hours updating both the interior and exterior of their home and yard.  Daily, the grandpa, D, can be seen outside doing one task or another.  Many conversations between our family and these sweet neighbors have taken place on the curb, in the street, or by the mailbox.  To the outside world, the scene would be about as interesting as dry toast, but to Sal, a true friendship was blossoming.

Grandpa D is a jokester, and Sal is often caught in his tangled web of shenanigans. After watching her jump rope one day, he asked for her assistance with a most perplexing problem – his driveway slab was upheaved at a corner.  She listened very carefully to his instruction to stand on the corner of the slab and to continue jumping.  It took just a little bit before they both erupted into fits of giggles because her slight frame was never going to push in the driveway no matter how many times she jumped up and down.  The ordinary moments, God blesses those.

One day we received a call that Grandpa D had taken ill and was being transported to a larger hospital than our local one.  Sal was heartbroken, crying for her buddy and lamenting how he just had to get better because he was now the best part of this neighborhood. (Her best friend moved across town a while back.)  She made sure we sent him “love messages” while he was away. We kept in close contact with his family, but didn’t realize Grandpa D came home from the hospital earlier than expected, while awaiting a surgery date.

Here we were enjoying a quiet family supper, when my sweetie remarked, quite shockingly, that D was in his yard doing some fall clean-up.  We were all surprised. One quick glance at Sal told me she could barely contain her excitement.  My heart melted as I allowed her to leave the table.  She tore out of her chair, bypassed putting on her shoes (even though it was in the low 50’s), and ripped across the street straight into the arms of her neighborhood buddy.

The storm in her heart was calmed as a peace settled on the two of them: one grandpa and one tiny neighbor catching up.  I don’t know all the details of their conversation, although I doubt she decided to take him up on his offer to buy a new snow shovel just for her.

The answer to our homework was illuminated watching a ten-year old and her buddy. Instead of looking for grandiose gestures to reach out to others, we learned the little stuff matters.  Maybe we are working too hard to manufacture fellowship, when God simply wants us to be present here and now in all our relationships, including the one with him.  Real connections are made in the ordinary. A childlike spirit reminded me to stop and savor those moments, even while your supper’s getting cold.  And for this, we couldn’t be more blessed.

My two lesson teachers started this race hand-in-hand and finished it the same way. Real connections support each other.

Over the years, I have been blessed with amazing kiddos (those I birthed and those on loan temporarily from their families).  We are planning our annual family photo, and I got to thinking the other day how there are two photos that I really want.  One would be similar to the one buzzing on social media where shadows would be in place of our children who reside with Jesus.  I am proud to be a mom of seven, even though only three share the earth with us today.  As long as I live the most difficult question to answer will always be, “How many children do you have?”

Every fiber of my being wants to yell “SEVEN”, but sometimes I don’t because I don’t always know how invested in the inquisitor I will eventually be.

Yet to pull off a picture of that significance means having to coordinate schedules with the three children who have busy lives. It will be a cherished treasure when we finally coordinate it all.  The other photo I hope to organize is one with all of our children, including our “adopted” ones – who call me Mom, but only in the “God put us all together” sense of the word.  These sons have never lived in my home and all have families who love them. For a period of time, we have had the joy of calling them one of our own.  Now if I thought the first picture was going to be a challenge to coordinate, imagine adding one son (and family) in Africa, one son (and family) just up the road, two additional college student sons, and two other sons from our school days. If you didn’t notice a pattern here, our daughters are really outnumbered. Yep, I love each of extra sons as if they were my own, and once upon a time one of them surprised me one of the greatest honors I have ever received.  I wrote more about it on the Minnesota Bridging the Gap ministry blog page, and I am sharing it here.  But let’s just say the little girl in the tutu stole my heart from the moment she was born.

Adding a grandbaby into the mix helped start a new tradition – which is a really BIG thing around Team Stevens Headquarters. From cookies and cocoa on the first snow to tracing our handprints on Thanksgiving, we excel at celebrating the every day. To the world our celebrations may look to revere the ordinary, but to us, it is the reminder of who we are and what we cherish. The little stuff truly matters.

Families are incredibly unique. Birth families, adopted families, blended families, or family of your own creation. God loves them all. However you define family, and whatever traditions (old and new) you celebrate, be blessed in knowing that God loves the things that bring families closer together!

Now here’s hoping those schedules will work out for those photos!

One day this summer, we travelled to Sioux Falls for a monthly event known as First Friday, a downtown business and community revitalization experience. It was a day filled with everything our little town is not: al fresco upscale dining, a thriving music scene on every corner, a pop-up temporary green space, a hipster splash park, and an amazing downtown block party. When perusing one of the boutiques, I stumbled across a pack of greeting cards tucked away in a galvanized tray that captured my heart.

Maybe it has been the nostalgia of learning to let go (things, habits, and basically anything unnecessary and cumbersome in our lives). Maybe it was the journey to find true contentment this year. Maybe the barely perceptible siren song of childhood is being replaced by the deep bass notes of manhood for the Boy Wonder.

Whatever the reason, adventuring and soul-seeking have been our purpose-filled missions this summer. I couldn’t be more pleased with the results.

For a very long time, every moment of our daily lives was filled with sadness, tethered to a day that we all deeply wish we could change. But wishes and regrets keep us locked away – far away – from living. This summer, although encountering its fair share of struggles, has been the polar opposite of what has marked our days for MUCH. TOO. LONG.

Adventuring and soul-seeking,

It all began when we arrived in Florida after a long morning of hurry-up-and-wait, followed by a three hour flight to our first major adventure to kick-off summer. The culminating result was arrival in my home state with three exhausted teenagers and one preteen who can eat more than those other three combined. Feed and water the kids became our battle cry! After retrieving our luggage and rental car, we dashed off to a restaurant which held more than Southern sweet tea and barbeque. God’s blessings of hope and encouragement awaited us as another family paid our bill, asking the waitress to tell us they overheard our heartfelt prayers and were touched by our story. The trip we weren’t sure was going to happen due to Sister’s surgery was ordained with a beautiful beginning.

The message: God wanted us to enjoy our adventure. And in the process, we learned to really search our souls for his presence.

The next day, quite unexpectedly, my sister and brother-in-law’s friend offered us (all 12 of us) some tickets to Sea World. While theme park is not exactly what I would call an adventure, what happened inside that park left me speechless.

We were an eclectic bunch,  including a three-month old, a three year old, two grandparents, and one teenager (God bless her heart) who due to a non-ambulatory decree from the orthopedic surgeon was forced to utilize an electric scooter in the park. Pit stops, interruptions, and exceptions to the rule were bound to happen.

The Real MVP of the day. She didn’t complain once.

ANYWAYS, while we were waiting, a gentleman with his family in tow walked up and asked me if we were just entering the park. When I explained we were, he gave us a family pass for jumping to the front of the line for all rides and attractions.

Really God? First, dinner and now a free-pass to avoid all lines. You’ve definitely got my attention.

A little later, another pit stop. Some of our group were huddled under the shade trees by stroller parking while we waited for our own littlest member to be fed. We were entertained by the very adept cookie-stealing squirrel who snuck into a diaper bag and stole an entire Ziploc bag of fresh baked, ooey-gooey chocolate chipped cookies. We were left amazed by his Herculean strength as the bag was about as big as the opportunistic thief. My moral compass really wanted to pen them a letter, lest later in the day they were disappointed in humanity thinking someone stole their cookies and some of their children’s innocence.

Just as I was internally debating my dilemma of “Dear stroller owner . . . “ or let it be, a familiar song began to swirl above my head. Tears filled my eyes. The melodic warbling was one I intimately knew and the desire to have present on this special trip could have only been sent straight from heaven.

I looked up just in time to see the red plumage dash to the entrance of the particular show we had hoped to catch. The cardinal even sensed the need for Sister to use an alternate entrance due to her “ride”. He darted branch to branch as we ascended the winding path to the arena’s seating. Flashes of red were mixed with melodic chirping. He lingered long enough for us to find seats and for him to find a perch.

This song of hope leaked out of my eyes as I quietly thanked God for sending the Reed-y bird while knowing he has the real Reed, tucked safely under his wings in heaven. Had I been more worried about things like blistering heat, crowded walkways, even the note to random strangers, my ears might have missed the sound of beautiful music, which is like a love song – God’s love song – to my momma’s heart.

Blessed are the curious, for they shall find adventure.

The notes of the cardinal blessed my soul with one of God’s unexpected adventures.

Dear Sister – Today is your day! I can hardly believe it! We have dreamed about this day for a long time. Sweet 16 on your golden birthday. Looking back at all the old photos and recently a few family videos, you have always been something that I really admire: fearless. Some will chalk it up to being the third child behind two rough-n-tumble older brothers. Others will say it is because your dad refused to allow you to wear pink forever and a day. Even others might suggest the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. If they are talking about me, I say pish-posh! I may be tough, but I am definitely not fearless like your warrior daddy.

Notice the blue dress?

I think you are exactly the way God made you to be to look for those in the world who need to be loved, who need to be included, who need a friend, who need someone to speak up for them, and who need a safe place to land. Because in the last sixteen years, I have seen you do these things many different times. Fearless is a part of your DNA.

Watching the video where you ran out of your room, down the hall, through the kitchen and then slid through the dining room was just the icing on the cake of my fearless theory. You didn’t just show us your amazing stunt woman skills once or twice, but over and over. Even after you wiped out once, you got up, shook yourself off and showed us again. Fearless! Totally fearless!

Of course as your not-so-fearless momma, I have cringed more than once when your adventures have gotten you into scrapes (especially the time when you climbed the dog kennel fence, fell down, and had a pebble lodged in your nose until “it festered its way out”). For the record, it took more than a month before the rock came out and equally as long for the scab to go away.

Every word is true. I am NOT making this stuff up.

But what I think very few people know about your fearless heart is that you are not afraid to go your own way, even when no one else is doing it. A quick look at the end of a basketball game, and you will see most of your teammates go and shake the referees’ hands. It wasn’t always that way, but you started doing it in the fourth grade and the trend caught on. Classy, trendsetting and fearless!

Bucking the norm, one year for Halloween, you created your very own superhero: Super Organ Donation Girl. Mostly you wanted to explain and honor the priceless gift your brother gave, but you never once batted an eyelash when adults asked you “What are you?” that evening. Not settling for being like everyone else, even if some people thought it was weird takes courage. And you, my fearless girl, have got that down!

But something about a fearless heart is that others don’t see all that goes on behind the scenes of life. Recently you did something that will forever take my breath away. Coming into the recovery room to finally see you after the agonizing wait during your most recent surgery, we knew the bad news. When we asked if you knew what had occurred, you told us you could see the clock and you knew from the long elapsed timeframe. I braced myself for tears and sadness (which, trust me, you had every right to express), but I could have never prepared myself for what actually happened. You looked me in the eye and asked if you could write your donor’s family a letter thanking them. Most people don’t even think of it, but you knew the gift and you wanted the family to know how much it meant. Your amazing, kind, loving heart wanted to give back even when you were at what some would consider a very low moment in your life. Brave and fearless!

Even though I am not as fearless as you are, one thing we do share in common is our love for children. I used to love to sit outside your bedroom when you played school and would use extra sheets from your own class, completing each page purposefully with mistakes. I would have to stifle my giggles when you would tell one of the dolly pupils “to go back and recheck number 5”. It was adorable and precious and a girl after your momma’s heart. Over the years, you have babysat as many children as you wear the number on your basketball jersey, and to see the love that radiated through them today says that your fearless heart touches the lives of others in immeasurable ways. A precious video wake-up message showed all the love in the world, especially when “Happy Birth-day Erin” was morphed into “Happy Erin”! Later, a specially tailored rendition of the birthday song from a favorite cutie had you grinning from ear to ear. Throughout the morning watching all the surprises for “Happy Birthday” planned as “Happy Mummy Day” because those little girls believe that you will grow up to be a great “mummy” someday . . . melted my heart. And you know what? I agree with them all one hundred percent. They love you, and so do I. Some day you will be a fabulous teacher and an amazing momma (mummy), and probably one who doesn’t let fear stand in her way. Just don’t be surprised one day when you see your daughter climbing the fence and letting go. But who knows? For one millisecond, she might fly just like her momma!

So we wish all these greetings today: 

Happy Birthday, Sister!

Happy Golden Birthday (16 on the 16^th)!

Happy Sweet 16!

Happy Mummy Day!

or my new personal favorite, Happy Erin!

Soar to great heights, my fearless girl, and don’t ever look back! Because if you do, I might be holding my breath, but know I am cheering you on every step of the way.

Love, Momma

The great cactus birthday cupcake challenge!

Special note:   In lieu of birthday presents, Erin has asked for donations be made to one of her favorite charities. http://showhope.org/restore-hope/care-centers/diapers-for-orphans/ Wanting to serve in orphanages in Haiti, China, and some day Uganda – oh, the love my girl will leave in her path.

I should probably start off by apologizing for today’s title to my two most beloved high school English teachers: Mrs. Langemoe and Mrs. Gallagher.  Although upon second thought, I think both those sweet, sassy women would get a pretty good chuckle out of my word choice. Today’s hijinks vexed my very last nerve, and I am not kidding in the slightest.  Before I get into the sticky (and I do mean sticky) details, I should give a little background.

For years now, we have had a system for cleaning our house. One day every couple weeks, we clean our house top to bottom. Originally we assigned jobs for each person to complete.  The jobs were getting done, but closer inspection revealed, not really well.  After a LONG family chat, we decided to create a master list of all jobs to get our house spic-n-span, allowing each person to pick the jobs they most desired to do.  This system worked much better, and after one task is crossed off the list, we keep picking jobs until the entire list is completed.

I don’t know if it is just the way my mind works, but I like things neat and orderly. My desire for a clean house is so strong that cleaning day is not thwarted by extra guests or unexpected playmates knocking at the door. One sweet boy seemed to have the uncanny luck to always have a sleepover with Reed on days that coincided with cleaning.  He never once balked and always stepped right up to help out.  My personal favorite was the time two brothers showed up to play with our kids.  My answer stating my kids couldn’t play until the house was clean was met with a question asking if they could help speed up the process. I simply pointed to the list, and watched one brother pick up supplies to scrub toilets while the other grabbed the vacuum.  Not bragging, but I am not sure Mary Poppins can’t top that story!

When the house is done, we always treat ourselves.  Hot fudge cake in the crockpot is a perennial favorite, as is a trip to the ice cream shop.  And yes, if you cleaned, whether I gave birth to you or not, you have earned the right to celebrate a job well done. Also, before anyone turns me in for child labor concerns, the entire process to dust, scrub, and polish our modest home takes less than two hours start to finish . . . or about as long as it takes for that cake to bake. But, I digress. . .

This whole long tangent is to explain my discovery this morning dealing with all things Irish and engineering.  Over the weekend, Sal, the scientist extraordinaire, got busy perfecting her latest in the way of leprechaun traps.  Little did I know that said trap needed some type of goo to help snare entice the objects of her affection.  I went to bed, hoping and wishing that my little Irish girl would finally get her wish of meeting a real live leprechaun, but awoke to something much less desirable than order and decorum.

All of my dining room chairs were strewn about, the piano rolls which had been conveniently placed to form stairs to one of the traps fun times were kicked to kingdom come, Sal’s bedroom was covered in toilet paper, and finally, the “Fairy Party and Leprechaun Lounge” was tipped over leaking syrup all over our floor.  Happy momma went to panicked momma in about 2 seconds flat.  Apparently our leprechaun friends were lured to the lounge by the video on the pink tv (ipod) in which a fairy friend explained how much fun it was in there. Little did I know how much faeries and leprechauns are fans of maple syrup! Seriously, if that is how our tiny friends like to party, who am I to judge?

I am nothing if not a fan of imaginations; so, when I saw my girl’s intense examination of all her designs, I couldn’t be mad. I just simply couldn’t do it.  Syrup cleans up (Thank you God above)! According to the miniscule note from our little Irish friends, we understand one of them did indeed get stuck and is now worried that every dry leaf and blade of grass from here to Ireland will be stuck to him.  For that I am sincerely sorry, because wanting things clean is something I understand.

It took quite a while for my gang to uncover the whereabouts of the hidden treasure box which this year held gold wrapped candies and new Irish t-shirts.  After the syrup incident, I am surprised our leprechaun friends didn’t wage war on my little (and big) engineers. Thankfully, they are much too noble for such pettiness!

As I was heading out the door, Sal wanted to share what she had uncovered about leprechaun traps in her ten years of experience.  1) any box used has been knocked over pretty easily. 2) any trap which involves falling into hasn’t been deep enough yet. Wheels of genius spinning, she was already devising a plan for next year. As a science teacher, I couldn’t have been more proud of her observations and thinking.

So to Seamus (again, terribly sorry about your coat), Finnegan, and O’Malley:  Thank you so much for keeping her creative ideas flowing, even if, at times, it feels like I am going to lose my mind.  But most of all, thanks for keeping her reaching for the pot of gold stars.