.

"My soul continually remembers it
and is bowed down within me.
But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
"The LORD is my portion," says my soul,
"therefore I will hope in him."

The LORD is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul who seeks him.
It is good that one should wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD."

I am so overwhelmed this afternoon by the love, kindness and mercy of my Lord. These verses from the third chapter of Lamentations have been on my mind as I thank God for His never ending mercies on my life. So undeserved, so welcomed, so often taken for granted.

Sitting beside me is my sweet Aiden, pink cheeked from playing outdoors, tasting a piece of Papa's homemade hard cheese, freshly cut into. It is good.

"Taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him" the Psalmist urges us.
I taste.
I see.
He is good.
In His mercy He strengthens me each morning, in His love He forgives me where I fall, in His patience He urges me on to being a better Mama.

Mercy is not simply the pardoning of a sin. It is pardoning wrapped in compassion. How beautiful that God has compassion on me every morning! That after sleep interrupted nights, piles of laundry, boogery children -there stand I - foggy eyed to the world, sleep deprived, grocery lists on the brain, schedules to make, to keep. And there is my Savior. Strong, compassionate, wrapping me in peace, strengthening me for the day, reminding me of His truths.


It is a quiet Sunday here. Eight year old Annaliese Kaelin is laid out with pillows above, below, surrounding her, sleeping peacefully on the sofa. Papa is settled in, reading about bees. Aiden by me, Andrew Douglas asleep in the library chair, folded upon himself, Chase in the crib, Eleanora Catherine making mischief on the kitchen sofa. Life. Beautiful life.


We tromped over field and through woods, trees lined like tired wooden soldiers, slid across icy forgotten roads, wandered roundabout homeward. Cold toes warmed by the fire, mittens hung to dry, a layer cake stacked with pineapple and buttercream, now naps and thoughts from the walk put down. I am carried on a cloud of grace and mercy, I imagine.

A significant birthday is coming up for me. Soon. I reflect. Think. And I am so overwhelmed with thankfulness for this full, full life.

Brimming over with God's goodness to me.


Someone made a statement to me once about wanting to pay God back for all He's done. An impossibilty, right? So overwhelmed by His keeping of my life, His healing of my heart and mind, His restorative power alive in my life I simply want Him to be proud of me. Of this life I live.



I desire my Father's approval. I want Him to take pleasure in the life I live. I know I cannot ever repay Him for His ways. I am simply so thankful.