As you now know, my Emma is quite fond of exercising her vocal chords regularly. She’s a champ. In fact, she’s gotten remarkably good at simultaneously exploring the height of her vocal range and turning the volume knob up to 11. The girl goes from 0 to 60 in, like, .2 seconds.  In about as long as it takes for her to realize she has some need that I need to immediately know about.

This, mind you, is only because she’s got something to say. It doesn’t mean she’s upset; it just means she wants to be heard. I understand that feeling quite well, as a matter of fact. And I try to give her other ways of talking in an effort to help her out.

“Emma,” I say, “screaming is for outside. Can you talk to Mommy using your hands or your words?” Or sometimes I say, “In our family we don’t scream at the kitchen table.” At this she gives an overly-excited effort at baby sign language that is usually indistinguishable. And if I don’t catch it and fulfill the need within about 5 seconds of her confusing delivery, it’s all over. She goes right back to her high-pitched, ear-drum busting ways.

And sometimes, Ellie, Tim, or I, at any moment, together or separately, will say “Emma, geez!  No screaming. Shhhhhhhh.”

Truly, though, she’s working very hard. She wants to communicate well. She just doesn’t know how. And she rides at such a high level of emotional intensity most of the time, she probably just can’t help the volume or the pitch. I mean, think about it . . . aren’t us women famous for getting louder and louder and higher and higher the more excited or upset we become?

Well, today as Tim and I were pondering our belting beauty over huevos rancheros that turned out to be more like a burrito, Tim asked me if Ellie ever screamed like that when she was Emma’s age. He didn’t remember! Well. She did.

In fact, I remembered this morning, it was a fairly significant thing in my mommy heart back then.

I was very afraid that if I told Ellie to be quiet or to use her inside voice or especially if I shushed her, that she would grow up with the same wounding I had. You see, the enemy lied to me all through my growing up years (up until recently when I shoo’d him off, as a matter of fact) telling me that I was too loud, too much of a presence, too boisterous, too much to handle. Even though I never remember any of those messages coming from my mom or dad–and frankly, it’s ridiculous to think that my innocent attempts at teaching my children good social etiquette would scar them for life–I was afraid of what the enemy might do in her little heart that I love so much.

But I realized one day in the car almost two years ago as I was sharing all of this with my mom (with Ellie quickly reaching the stratosphere in the backseat) that I can’t live under the responsibility of preventing my daughter (and now daughters!) from receiving wounds from me, or anyone, as they grow up. It’s too big a weight for me–for anyone–to carry.

Shoot, even if I did try to censor everything in their lives, my well-intentioned efforts to shield them from the battle would probably back-fire and land me as the impetus behind some future book about how to get over your mother never telling you that you just can’t scream at the top of your lungs in a small, crowded space. If I continued to parent under that weight I’d undoubtedly be like that mom we all shake our heads about during American Idol auditions as we ask the inevitable question: “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that you can’t sing??”

No, that day two years ago in the car with Ellie and this morning at the dining table with Emma, I had to get up the guts to tell my children to be quiet.

That day with Ellie was the first time I ever told a child of mine to be quiet. It was a huge deal. It was another step toward trusting my baby girl and her heart to the Father, who is so much more capable than I am at protecting her.

I’m learning with both girls that I can trust myself and my ability to parent Ellie and Emma well, and I’m learning to believe that the Father has given me what I need to be their mother. I’m learning to release the pressure I put on myself and put it where it belongs: with the Father. And I’m realizing that I just get to do the best I can with what I have and trust the Lord with my babies’ hearts.

Because for the sake of all humanity and their ear drums, my children have to learn that this is not acceptable behavior for a functional human being, and they have to learn it from me.

Emma turned 1 on June 1. It’s hard to believe that a year ago–a little over that now–my Bertolli Italian Sausage pasta dinner was interrupted by an overwhelming need to visit the hospital and the birth of our beautiful second daughter.

Now we’ve entered my favorite of the baby stages: 12-18 months. Full night’s sleep (well, 5 out of 7 ain’t bad). Walking. People food. One nap. Temper tantrums.

Yep. I’ve got one who loves temper tantrums. Usually at night–around the 6:30 hour–you can find her rolling around on the floor screaming for no apparent reason. We’ve just eaten, she’s taken a great nap during the day, her diaper’s clean–I seriously think she just loves the drama of it all. And who can fault her for that? Especially coming from such a long line of dramatic women.

One night not too long ago, however, Emma stumbled onto something that thrilled her even more than her evening temper tantrum . . .

I don’t know if you can see it–but that’s the look of victory.

Want to know why I haven’t posted consistently for the last, like, 3 months?

Here it is . . . and you can order it.

Take a listen (click on the “play” button to play and the “i” button to find out more info about the song):

I’m SO excited! It’s our new cd and we’ve been working on it since JANUARY. Now, it’s available for digital download, and in mid-August the physical cd will be available, too. Feels good.

Recovery Day. That’s what today is. It’s the day when we all lounge on the couch, we pay bills, we get caught up on Facebook, and we watch movies. Right now, Emma Rose is asleep, Ellie’s watching The Aristocats (thanks, Mom!), and I’m posting pictures and trying to process the past month. Maybe tomorrow we’ll have a rest day–one filled with active rest that actually renews our energy and fills our reserve tanks back up.

June was amazing. We had non-stop visitors, and my party-spirit was in hog heaven.

One of the highlights of the month was Worship@8500, a gathering of folks from all over the country that we helped to host along with Enter the Worship Circle. Tim and I and the rest of the leadership team spent 3 days in Divide, Colorado with 150 others camping, encouraging one another in our sonship, worshiping the Father together, and learning together about the kingdom of God.

If you missed it, here’s a little peak at one of the worship nights…

Yes, this is the same gathering that stressed out my party-spirit last year. This year my children were old enough to spend the weekend with close friends, and I came away from the weekend energized and excited.

If you have your calendars out, mark June 24-26 2011. That’s worship@8500 next year. Both my party-spirit and I will be there.

If you want to see more pictures, go to Facebook and “like” The Blackthorn Project. We have a bunch more photos uploaded there.

HAPPY 4TH OF JULY! And yes, I’m so thankful for our freedom and for our awesome country. But no, I didn’t sing the Star Spangled Banner for Good Song Sunday this week. I hope you are not too disappointed.

TOO PROUD
I’m too proud to ask
Too broke to eat
Too weak to bow
Too strong to bleed

Can you sing over me words of comfort
Can you satisfy me with sweet honey
Can you break through me with your strong hands
Can you undo me enough to heal me

You take the weight from my shoulders
My hands were clenched and now they’re open
I’ll take your goodness poured from the sky
Food from the ravens
Water from the dry well

This song was written by Tim Thornton, Aaron Strumpel, and Laurie Thornton