Jodilightful!

(Bonus points for anyone who can spot poor Trevor languishing in the background with the beginnings of what would be come the worst stomach virus to blow through our family since The Great Young Virus of Christmas 2008.  So far the casualty count is still slightly lower.  So far.)

For more Wordless Wednesday, click here.

I may just have a new favorite photo ever.  Three girls + two grandparents + Amish country =

Juniper Lucy is 18 months old today!  Normally that would mean I’d take a picture of her with her special teddy bear, but since her Daddy and big sisters and Gran and Grandad have cleared off to Lancaster County for the day and taken the camera with them, I’ll just be sharing a few recent favorites.

Also, for posterity, I thought I’d record some of her words thus far.  We’ve quite quite an explosion in the last few weeks, and I confess I haven’t even started listing them like I did for the other girls.  Poor neglected fourth child.

So, at the ripe old age of one and a half, Junebug can say:

Uh-oh

Ro-Ro

Pippa

Bea

Daddy

Mommy

Gulla (Gulliver, the dog)

Hi and Hello

Bye-bye

Night-night

Ah-mum (Amen)

Baby

Ellie

Bopple (bottle, Ellie’s that is)

Apple

Poppy (potty) and Pee-pees (girl wants to potty train like there’s no tomorrow, but there is, and I’m not doing it yet. Nope, I’m not.)

Uppy (up)

Nose

Pease (please)

Tee-koo (Thank you)

and her new favorite (*not* ours!): No.   Spoken mournfully when we try to dress her, change her diaper, brush her teeth, etc.  We’re awfully mean to her.

We call her our little engineer because she loves trying to “fix” things  and figure things out.  A few months ago she discovered a screw missing from one of our vents and crawled all through the house to get one from a bucket of odd screws in another room to replace it.  Crazy, scary genius!

She adores her sisters and especially her baby Ellie.  She is irresistibly adorable and cheeky. We’ll keep her, I think.

(Warning:  Mom, don’t do it.  Just stop reading now.  It’s not a good idea.  Step away from the laptop.)

Dear Baby Sister,

A little while ago (I don’t know, maybe like five years or so?)  Mom gave me the shock of my life by telling me that I was going to be a big sister.  I was fourteen, an only child, and had just been given the same news by my Dad and Debbie less than a week earlier.  I laughed and cried and rejoiced.  And we talked names.  Immediately.  (I know, you’re shocked.)

A few months later, on a Thursday afternoon, I was mad at Grandmom for letting me stay at school when I should have been at the hospital where you had been dragged kicking and screaming into the world.  Mom and I won the name debate.  More rejoicing!

You came to my marching band and choir performances (you stop that snickering right now, young lady!)  I loved taking you anywhere with me, despite the occasional shocked stare I would get (good practice for my life now toting a small herd of little ones everywhere I go!).  I was so proud of “my baby”.  You had sparkly eyes and made a ‘monster face’ on command.  You were the ultimate party trick.

Then you got bigger.  At 18 months you quoted scenes from Dumb and Dumber word for word through your baby monitor during nap time.  At three you could dance the Macarena perfectly.  We should have known then.

I went to off to college.  I blinked and you were six: reading and writing and riding the bus to school.  Nevermind.  Still plenty of time to get reacquainted before you grew up.

And then I moved to Scotland.  Another, slightly longer blink later, and my baby sister was thirteen years old.  Sure, I had seen you here and there over the years, but nothing could have prepared me for the shock that the spunky seven-year-old I had left at home had transformed into a beautiful, smart, thoughtful young woman of thirteen.  Nothing.

Once the shock wore off, I was excited about all the time we were going to have together.  Excited to really be in your life.  Excited to get to know this beautiful new version of my baby sister.  I had so much to teach you and show you.  We were going to be best friends.  And we were!  But life with babies was busy, and you never had a dull moment in your social calendar.  There were rich, sweet times together, but not enough of them.  (Could there ever be?)

And here we are.

In less than a week, you are leaving for college.  College! I know it isn’t the end of the world, but it is the end of something.  The end of your childhood, maybe.  The end of my chance to have any influence over the person you become.  At very least the end of the time when I can bribe you with popcorn and iced coffee to hang out with me on Monday nights for Bible study.

You may only be going an hour and a half away from home, but you are going into a world more amazing and more hostile than you could ever imagine.  A world that will embrace you and adore you if you can just keep the Jesus thing  to yourself.  ”Oh, you’re a Christian?” they’ll say.  ”That’s cool.  Whatever works for you.”

But if you choose to be different, if you choose not to conform to the pattern of this world, if you choose to speak the name of Jesus Christ boldly with both your words and the very person you are, then you will not be the most popular girl at school.  You will offend people.  You will step on toes.  You will make people squirm.  Jesus did, and He said we would, too.

But you will also love people with a love they’ve never seen before.  And as the integrity of who you are in Christ shines through, some, not all by any means, but some, will wonder what makes you so different.  Some will see the peace and hope and purity that you have in this crazy, messed up world, and they will want it for themselves.

But only if you’re different.  Don’t fool yourself into thinking that you will win anyone for Christ by living a life of compromise.  You will only remind yourself of what I know you already know: all the fun and pleasure and satisfaction that the world has to offer are empty.  The party life is really no party at all.

You have been so well prepared for this challenge, but it still won’t happen by accident.  If you wander through campus life with a see-what-happens attitude… well, you’ve already seen what happens.

Decide now who you will be, where you will be, whose company you will choose.  There are no rules for you in Christ, but there are choices to make.  Some that will leave you heartsick and miserable and others that will draw you nearer to the One who loves you enough to die for you.  Choices that will bring deep joy and  satisfaction, and choices that will satisfy for a moment and then leave you utterly empty.

These choices are made in a heartbeat.  You won’t have any idea how big they are when you’re facing them.  Make choices now.

I didn’t want to send you off with a sermon.  But whatever.  So much for that. I know you don’t need another mom (or do you?  Because Mom’s a busy lady… No, okay.  You don’t.) but please accept my appeal, my plea, as an older sister in the Lord.  Be who you know you are.  You are not your own; you were bought at great cost.

Remember that you are an ambassador.  Everywhere you go and in every decision you make, you are wearing the name of Christ.  Wear it well.  You are a charming girl, and you will wrap the world around your little finger just like you’ve wrapped me around it.  Use that gift wisely.

Baby sister, I am so proud of the woman you’ve become.  I can’t wait to see how God will use you in this exciting next stage of your life. I do not fear for you going out into the big, scary world.  You are rooted and grounded in Christ.  Just don’t forget to put on your armor.

I love you more than you’ll ever know, Paigie.

Love,

JLY

Ephesians 6:10 – 20

10 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. 11 Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. 12 For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. 13 Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. 14 Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, 15 and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. 16 In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; 17 and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, 18 praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, 19 and also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, 20 for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak.

They kind of look related, huh?

For more Wordless Wednesday, click here.

For more Wordless Wednesday, click here.

Pippa: Mommy, can we have gum for our snack?

Me:  You know Daddy doesn’t like gum.  You’d have to ask him, and I suspect he’d say, “Not while you’re under my roof!”  [No, he really would.]

Pippa:  So, could I go to Joel and Heather’s [next-door neighbor's] house and chew gum there?

Romilly: No!  Only if you’re on their roof you can!

They are hatching a plan as I type this.

Last year I took a picture of the two big girls with the firstfruits of Trevor’s harvest.  Now I remember why I did it during nap time last year.   Rascal.

For more Wordless Wednesday, click here.

As we were driving home from the craft store today, Pippa heard the words “When my heart’s broken…” in one of our Sovereign Grace Kids songs, and she asked me to turn the music down.  She had something to say.

Pippa: I want to say something, but I need to think for a minute, but leave the music down…

(And then:)

When my heart breaks in two,

And I don’t know what to do,

My Savior will make me a new heart all the way through.

(The last line was tweaked slightly when we wrote it down later, her revisions, not mine.)

Is that a good one, Mommy?

Me: (just about crying) Yep, that’s a good one.