A Jesus Errand

Someone said a picture is worth a thousand words. I agree. I'm not going to write a great deal, but you can see a lot through the pictures. It was a blessed day.

The children and adults of Galloway have the opportunity throughout the year to earn "points" by doing projects for the missionaries there. They do things like clean up their town and help out around the Baptist Church and the missionaries home. They save their points all year long to buy Christmas gifts at the Christmas Store. If not for this opportunity most of these families would have nothing on Christmas morning.

 

The day we went was the day the children come to redeem their points. They were so precious! They would make a list of all the family members that they wanted to buy presents for.  We would then walk around with them and help them choose their presents. After they had chosen a gift for each person on their list we would ask them if they wanted to buy something for themselves so they would have something to unwrap on Christmas morning. They would excitedly pick out something that they wanted for Christmas. After they have chosen all their gifts, they go to the wrapping station where volunteers help wrap their gifts, so they are all ready for Christmas

 

One young man stood out to me in particular. He was just 13, and had earned 70 points throughout the year. When he came to the "store" to buy his gifts he wouldn't come in. He insisted that his mom and little sister go in to pick out his gifts for him. His mom, wanting to be sure he had a gift to open, picked out a couple of things for him. As I was helping them wrap their gifts this manboy came in to see what had been purchased. He was quite upset that they had chosen anything for him. He stated that he intended his points to be used so his little brothers and sisters would have something on Christmas morning, and that he didn't want anything for himself. This child is fatherless as many of the children that come through the store are, and yet he is somehow learning to be a man.

 

I was humbled to see that these children who don't know much about Jesus are sometimes better examples of Him then I am. Most of them were way more concerned about gifts for others then they were about gifts for themselves. They know the odds. There's been giftless Christmases before. Still they choose that mom, sister, brother receive something special for Christmas from them before they think of themselves. All I could do as they walked out with their sacks of presents was wish them a Merry Christmas and remind them that Jesus loves them. And how He does! Jesus hasn't forgotten the forgotten. And we can't either. It's OK to be Jesus Crazy.

 

 

Note - The only way the ministry in Galloway can provide this Christmas Store is through the generosity of churches and individuals. If you would like to be a part of this ministry, you can reach them at:

 

Ronnie & Karen Grunewald

P.O. Box 284

Galloway, TN 38036

901-229-3595

 

or Becky Jackman

901-229-0100

Some Kind of Christmas Crazy

"So......I have this crazy idea." I said to Dan in the middle of the night the other night. That's mostly the time of day I wait to tell him my crazy ideas. He loves it. In fact he usually says, "Why do you wait until the middle of the night to tell me these things???!"That's how I know he likes it....

I wait, because I have his full attention, and he can't get away. And if he tells me my idea is crazy, it's easier to take in the dark. And I do have some crazy ones, that's why God gave me such a level headed husband.

He finally gave in. "What's your idea?" he bravely asked me. "I think we should drive to Galloway, TN this weekend and help the missionaries there with the Christmas store." I replied. Silence. I quickly started making my case, "They sent out an email that they really need help this year, and we've always said we wanted to take the kids and do something for others for Christmas, and we said some day we'd go over there, and ......I know it's crazy.

To drive 10 hours (5 each way) to work for 1 day is a little bit crazy. But, then there's that young girl, Katie's her name, that traveled all the way from Tennessee to Uganda to share Jesus with so many, and stayed in Uganda because she's crazy for Jesus. And then there's that amazing God baby that traveled through eternity to earth on that Christmas night. Just. For. Me.

Maybe it's not so crazy.

But then I tell myself,

This is the last weekend before Christmas, there's so much to do, shopping, baking, presents to wrap, people to see....and the kids haven't even been to see Santa yet.....

No, they haven't seen Santa yet, but in Galloway they will see Jesus. I know. I've been there, and I've seen Him. Amongst the dirt, poverty, drugs, and kids no one but the missionaries care about, He's there. He's working. He's real.

One of these days, the kids will all know the "truth" about Santa anyway, and there will be disappointment. I saw the sad eyes when my daughter found out the stories weren't true. But then there's that other story. You know the one about that miracle baby, Jesus, that Christmas is really all about? He's real, He is truth. That God baby, that Giver of good gifts? He won't disappoint. He is still alive and still giving His gifts over 2000 years later.

And we can help Him. We can be Jesus on earth. There are so many little children in Galloway, TN who wouldn't receive a thing on Christmas Day if it weren't for the missionaries living in that little town. Those kids already know Santa's only a story. But those missionaries are showing them that Jesus of Christmas is real and He cares about a little thing like a Christmas gift. And those missionaries, they need help. They are there working tirelessly 365 days a year, and they need help here in their busiest time of year. They need help enough they are asking for it.

Can we leave the hustle and bustle and last minute shopping to take our kids on a Jesus errand? Can we stop putting an abundance under our tree for a minute to put something under someone else's? Can we teach our children that life is not all about them this Christmas? Can we remember that life is not all about us....

I talked myself into it. But, I went to sleep without an answer from that level headed man of mine lying next to me.

He's a good man though. He knows when an idea is just plain crazy and when an idea is Jesus crazy. I can't always tell the difference. But, he can. He called me from work the next day. I didn't say a word about it. It was too early in the day. I only talk about crazy in the middle of the night. He suddenly says into the phone, "What time do you want to leave Friday?" My heart jumped out of my chest.

Friday. Friday we will load up a sack of gifts and our little family and take them on a new adventure. My plan was to go to Branson, finish our shopping, and see a Christmas show. But a God baby, a crazy idea, and a good man changed my plan.

This Christmas, I'm thankful for a dad. A dad who's giving up time and money to make sure his children take an opportunity to serve Jesus. A dad who's doing it with them. I'm proud to be married to that dad.

This is what I want for Christmas. I want to see that little baby in the manger come to life in my babies. I want to see the babies of Galloway know that the Jesus of Christmas cares about them too. I want to be changed. I want Christmas to be a lot less about me and a lot more about Him.

We leave tomorrow. I can barely sleep. It's like "the night before Christmas."

Reasons to Stop Writing, or Bumps in the Road

I think the hardest thing about writing is getting back to writing after life throws you a curve ball. So many thoughts in my head to write about, but I can't seem to make myself write them down.

My curve ball was my husband getting injured and spending time out of work and  in the hospital this past summer.....

Definitely not a major deal compared to what so many people go through daily. But, it was a major deal for me.

When suddenly the strongest person in your life becomes the weakest person, things change. Priorities change. I found myself sitting in a hospital room. You know, the place where really old or really sick people go. Not us. But, there we were. And my husband was one the one lying in the bed. "Severe infection from injury," the doctor said. "He needs to be in the hospital on an IV."  All I knew was that he hadn't been able to walk or move out of bed for almost a week. And that's not like my Dan. If I can get him to sit still with me for more than a half hour, I feel lucky.

The first night he was on IVs the infection spread instead of receded. You could actually see it growing, covering his leg. And I cried. Helpless. My mind jumped ahead, "What if the antibiotics don't work?" "What if he loses his leg?", "What if he dies?"  "What will I do.?" I didn't want to worry him with my fears, but he and God are the ones that I always tell my fears to. I crawled into that little hospital bed with him at three in the morning, and he mustered up enough strength to put his arms around me and we cried out to God together. Because, really, what else do you do.

Life is suddenly put into perspective. You realize that one day, one hour, one minute can change your whole life. We were just at the river, playing with our kids like we do so often. Dan tripped and cut his knee on a rock. Not really a big deal -  an ER visit, and  a few stitches. That's all. But it wasn't all.  And now, here we were, lying in that hospital bed together. I have never seen him so sick before, ever.

There were blessings, as there are in every hardship life throws us. People, being Jesus on earth, were the main ones. They came to see us in that little room and helped us pass the long hours. They brought us food, books, and movies. They took wonderful care of our children while we were away. They prayed. When we finally got to come home, they were there cleaning our house so it would be ready for us, and dinner was in the crock pot. Blessings. God always brings blessings.

It was only a month long ordeal, though it seemed like a year. I thought of those that have "years" long ordeals. And my heart cries for them. And I want to be Jesus to them. I want to help be a little bit of the blessing that so many were for me.

I try to get back to writing. Suddenly things in my life are not quite so humorous. It's suddenly harder to sit down and stare at a blank screen. So I don't.

But, here it is Christmas. The time of year that Christ is renewed in our hearts. He came to make all things new. He's renewing me this Christmas. Reminding me of who He is, and why He came.

 I don't want to let the bumps in my road to become mountains that stop me. I want to be an overcomer.

A Letter to My Single Friends

To my Dear Single Friends,

Sometimes life is tough. Especially when you're single. Everyone around you wants to know why you're not married, when you are getting married, when you're next date is, what you are doing to change your singleness, and every other annoying question they can think of. I know, I've asked these questions. I'm guilty. And somewhere along the way you began to ask yourself the same questions.

 Somehow, somewhere, we started to believe that our completeness is found in another person.

It's not.

The bottom line is, life is not even about us. It's not about you, it's not about me. It's not about finding our "completeness." It's about Jesus. And if you're about Jesus, then your life is about living for others. We all have the same calling as Christians - giving up our life for others. You and I, married or single, we're no different. Our completeness is in the One who gave us the calling of death to self, not in the one we sleep with.

I'm married and I give up my life every day.  It's not much of a choice for me. I have children who demand it. It's called "mom life." I wouldn't trade it, but sometimes I wonder what in the world I'm doing for eternity!

But, you, oh Single One, you have the CHOICE still. You choose where and when you give up your life, and for whom. You have the capacity to bless so many people in so many places. So much more than I! Again, I know. I have been blessed by you. And I've seen so many others blessed by you. It's not the big things that I'm talking about, not mission trips to Africa, inner city Bible schools, street evangelism, or door to door witnessing.

It's the time you came to my house to visit me. You had time to stay for days because you DIDN'T have a family at home waiting on you. You can't even begin to know what it did to my spirit. You played with my children, much more energetically than I play with them because you are not so worn out from your own! Watching you love my children made my heart sing. You stayed up late at night and talked with me, and refreshed my soul in the Lord. I love God more because of you. You helped me in countless ways through those hard early days of newborns. You had time to send me a birthday card, or a random note. You bought me a gift, that let me know you were thinking of me. You drop by without calling, and you don't care what my house looks like. And I'm grateful you come.

This is just how you give up yourself for me. And it's small on the scale of what I've seen you do for others.

You spend your money to travel to see a friend that needs you. You use your talents to help others in countless ways. You sing for church services, weddings, and funerals like no one else I know. You use your computer skills (and valuable free time) to work on projects for people you care about. And sometimes people you don't even know. You fix food  for others, and babysit their children. You're an advocate for those who can't be one for themselves. You volunteer at church for things that married people don't have time to do. You invite your friends to do fun things with you. Things they don't think of themselves anymore because they've lost themselves in their everyday life. You will drive hours just to bless someone for a day. You give your hard earned money to help a child or a missionary in need.

You are Jesus on earth. And oh, how the earth needs you!

I love you, my single friends, and I have no idea why I have wanted you to get married. For when you get married you probably won't have time for me anymore.

Don't listen to the gainsayers. Be who you are. Be wholly single, wholly for Jesus, wholly for a hurting world.

The Harsh Reality

I told my children about abortion this morning. And I cried. Not a tear or two running down my cheek, but sobs. Not only for the grief of abortion, but for the sadness I feel of having to introduce my children to the reality of our world. Oh the grief!

I've sheltered them this long. I don't want them to know the depravity of our culture. I want them to think that the whole world is like their world - God, family, church, love, safety, happiness......

But it's not. Not. NOT.

 I read to them about Billy Sunday in school. What an incredible story! He preached to  millions of people about Jesus. So many were saved that whole towns improved! Communities got better because people met Jesus. 40,000 people were turned away from one meeting because there wasn't enough room for them. 40,000!!!

I told them that we needed to pray that God would raise up another man like Billy Sunday to preach salvation to America. Because if millions get saved, America will change. They wanted to know what was wrong with America. In my children's America, everything is fine.

But it's not fine. And they need to know. If you don't know what's wrong, you don't know why you need Jesus.

So I picked one thing. I told them about abortion, and about the babies who die every day. And I cried. And cried. And cried.

We got on our knees and prayed. Prayed for this America that I love so much. And God convicted my heart. It doesn't just take an evangelist to change a nation. It takes ordinary people like me taking everyday opportunities to share an extraordinary Jesus with the people in my ordinary community. That will change America too.

Here's what I can do:

Give out tracts and Bibles (You can never go wrong with God's Word.)
Volunteer at church, pregnancy resource centers, adoption coalitions, soup kitchens, homeless shelters, missions, evangelistic events, etc.
Reach out to my neighbors
Have time for people (this is hard in our ever busier lives)
Invite people to church
Pray for salvation, God's mercy, and for the repentance of America

 "If God be for us, who can be against us?"

The Swarm of Bees, The Bees, OK, The Bee.....

Do you remember the movie “The Bees?” Or maybe there wasn’t a movie called “The Bees.” Maybe it was just “The Birds.” I don’t know. All I know is it was scary and I wasn’t allowed to see it. So, I never saw either one (if there are two), but I lived it the other day. My experience wasn’t so much called “The Bees”, but rather “The Bee.”

And, oohhhh it was scary.

I’ve always heard the saying, “mad as a hornet.” I didn’t experientially know it was true…….until last week. 

I was out taking a bike ride with my four kids down by the river when we stopped to do some exploring on the grassy river bank. I was walking around carrying Elijah, minding my own business when I lifted my leg to take a step and trapped a bee inside my shorts. Yes, INSIDE my shorts. He promptly stung me. It was probably in a desperate last ditch effort to save his life from being squished between my thigh and shorts. I admit I was a tad bit understanding of his actions considering I definitely wouldn’t want to be trapped, unable to breathe in between someone’s fat thigh and shorts. I quickly let him out, mainly because I didn’t want to get stung again.

But that wasn’t the end of it. He was mad. I mean MAD!! He had full intentions of letting me know of his unhappiness with the situation. He began chasing me. I’ve never been actually chased and attacked by a bee before. It was frightening! I’m not sure what response he was looking for out of me, but I began running and flailing my arms. He should have been satisfied with that because it was a pretty humorous sight.

But, no. He continued to try to kill me for capturing him in my shorts. He soon decided torturing me wasn’t quite enough and decided to go for my baby.  I knew how badly it hurt to be stung, so I snatched Elijah up and tried to make my escape with him. There was no escaping! That was the most persistent bee I have ever seen. Everywhere we went he chased us. He managed to sting Elijah under the chin, and still he was not satisfied. I figured this was a fight to the finish and so far I was losing. Now that I didn’t have two arms to flail at the bee, I grabbed a long stick off the ground and began swinging it around like a madman. I’m not a very good hitter when it comes to baseball, and the bat is much bigger than my stick and the ball is a whole lot larger than that bee! I didn’t have a prayer. I’m sure the campers observing from the top of the hill thought I was a crazy woman running around in circles with my child in my arms violently swinging a long stick at what appeared to be nothing. (Bees are so sneaky.)

If you are wondering what my other children were doing during all this time, let me tell you they weren’t helping me! They were staying as far away as possible! There was no, “I got your back, Mom.” Looking back now, I’m not sure if they were staying so far away because they were afraid of the bee, or if their fear was their crazy mom wildly swinging that stick everywhere. They couldn’t have gotten close if they had wanted to without getting whacked. I was swinging at everything.

I’m kind of embarrassed to admit it, but eventually I left my bike on the riverbank and ran for my life. It was every man for himself at that point. I took the baby with me and just hoped the other kids would make it out alive. I decided if you were over 5 you were on your own.

Score:

Bee – 10

Me - 0

Someone Parked a Tree Behind Me.

So. I backed into a tree today. In my own yard. I’m sure it wasn’t there yesterday. It was a shock for all of us! My first thought was, “Who parked behind me?!! Dan’s at work, (Thank the Lord.) and we don’t have any company.” Then I looked. (I probably should have done that first….) Somebody parked a TREE behind me!! I mean, really, who does that kind of thing?

Next problem – to tell Dan, or not to tell him… hmmm. It would be a much easier decision if I didn’t four little tattle tales in the car with me. Three of them who thought we were just in a terrible wreck. “Mom!” Zackary says, “I bet there’s a BIG dent in the back of the van!” I very calmly said, “Zack, sometimes it’s better if you just keep your mouth SHUT. And, this is one of those times. Mommy doesn’t need to hear things like that right now.” I mean, if there is a huge dent in the van, how am I supposed to explain to my insurance that I can’t remember WHERE the trees are in my OWN yard? I’ve only lived here 8 years after all…..

I decided to get out and survey the damage. I couldn’t see any. Whew. Maybe I won’t have to tell Dan that I hit the huge tree he must have just planted in our yard last night while I was sleeping. Of course Dan sees things on cars that not even a person with a microscope can see. He’ll say to me, “Honey, how did that scratch get on the car?” “What scratch?” I innocently reply. “You haven’t seen it?” He says incredulously. We then go out and look. He points and I look. “What scratch?” I ask again. He just shakes his head.

I didn’t see any damage on the van, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. I better just fess up. If I don’t, the kids will do it for me. Or, just the mere fact that I’m writing this on the internet, chances are it will leak back to him. I did check to make sure the back end still opens and closes!

I regained my composure and finally, successfully got out of the yard. As we drove down the street Zackary pipes up, “Wow! I can’t believe the airbags didn’t go off!” I tried to keep my composure. Really I did. If you’ve ever ran into anything you know what it does to your nerves.  Everything in me wanted to turn around and scream, “JUST SHUT UP!!!” But, that wouldn’t have been very Christ like, and we’re not allowed to say “shut up” at our house….

Besides that fact, I was backing out of my yard, maybe going a top speed of 5mph. The jolt of smacking the tree was a shock, but nowhere near setting off the airbags. I counted to 10 and through gritted teeth said, “Zack that was another one of those things that should have been left unsaid….” “I can’t help it, Mom,” He said. He just doesn’t know when to quit.

I had lunch with Dan today, but I decided that wasn’t the right time to tell him about the non-dent in the back of the van, that I put there backing into a tree in my own yard. Maybe tonight after I fix his favorite meal and clean out the garage for him….. Yes, that might be a good time. 

May the Best Turtle Win

The annual turtle races. It sounded good when I first saw it advertised. We've watched them in the past, but never participated. I told my kids this year was the year. They could collect, keep, paint, and train turtles for the big annual turtle races.

What was I thinking???? 

We found turtles all right, but keeping them was a different story. We caught some pretty fast turtles, but they turned out to be regular Houdinis!!!! Escape artists they were. All of them. It's hard to race your really fast turtle if you can't keep it penned up until the race. We even tried to bribe them to stay with us by giving them fresh fruits and vegetables. No luck. 

We finally took ONE turtle to my sister who had a turtle proof cage. That seemed to do the trick. On the day of the race we took our ONE turtle and two borrowed ones to town in a box. The turtles really didn't like the small box and tried their Houdini moves to get out. This time we won. The turtles stayed in the box. Good thing because three turtles in a box stinks up a mini van pretty bad. I can't imagine what they would have done out of the box...

We got to the race sight to find that there were over 130 turtles to race. This was an event! I would have brought my lawn chair and my supper if I had known. Because there are so many turtles they do the race in heats. If your turtle comes in 1st, 2nd, or 3rd you move on to the next heat. Do you know how long it takes to race that MANY turtles in that MANY heats!!??? I do. We had one turtle that was exceptionally fast and kept WINNING!!! After almost an hour of watching turtles run in circles, I started hoping our turtle would SLOW DOWN and lose. (Don't tell my child I said that.) 

Then they brought it out. The cute little girl with the genormous (I made that word up.) water turtle. She was wearing gloves and desperately trying to hold the turtle as far away from her body as possible. Probably because the turtle was trying to desperately swim through the air with motions that looked like it might attack at any moment. The turtle was 4 times the size of any other turtle there and would barely fit in the starting box. As soon as they lifted the box, he was off to look for water. In a desperate," I don't like to be on land" fashion. The problem was there was no water to be found, so it went straight into the crowd. There were several hundred people there and I think they were almost all scared of the poor harmless (very large) water turtle swimming across land. People started backing up as he entered the crowd, and shrieking like maybe a bear was after them. Kinda reminded me of my bird days. I laughed. It was the most comical thing that happened at the whole SLOW race! 

The really large, scary water turtle ended up beating our turtle in the last heat. It was ok, except because I had been there so long, it would have been nice to have something to show for our time. 

The kids are already planning next year's race. I'm thinking it sounds like a great daddy/child date! 

Media Free Month

I gave my kids a few weeks notice. They shouldn't have been shocked. After all this is not the first time this has happened. But no, there were still tears of agony and pain. I looked at them as they were crying and said, "You act like we are taking away your birthday." "It feels like it!" was there agonized reply.

Media free month at the Van Patten's. That is what all the drama was about. June is our month we take off tv and video games to stretch our minds and spend most of our time outdoors. My kids find it terribly painful before we start. Funny thing is, they don't miss it a bit once we're into it. Their creativity suddenly blooms. They play hours together. They find toys they forgot they had.

It's so easy to default to electronics. When you're bored, it helps fill your time. Unfortunately that's the first thing my kids think of when they are bored. It's almost like they can't think to do anything else. Except during media free month.

Of course it's a challenge for me too! It's so nice to say, "Go watch tv." "Ahem, an educational show, I mean..." It gives me a much needed (or wanted)  break. But, I find I miss out on so much too. Instead of spending time on the computer, I'm reading books to my kids and playing games WITH my kids. I become part of their play. The other challenge is the mess. I've had multiple homemade tents in the family room, legos all over the floor, craft projects strewn everywhere, and books, Books, BOOKS!!! Oh the books! Everywhere. We must bring home 40 books everytime we go to the library. But, they're reading, and exploring, and learning, and NOT watching tv!

I love it.

They also get creative in not so good ways....

 Like the time I found my kids along with someone else's child in our pool fully clothed after I told them they couldn't swim. I'm sure they misunderstood my instructions. Surely they thought I meant no swimming only if they had their swimsuits on...... Of course I was in the middle of a piano lesson, so there wasn't a lot I could do except tell them to sit in their wet clothes on the porch until I was finished.

Or the day I found Kade and Elijah in the kitchen together. Kade had a straw in his hand and Elijah was crying. "What happened?" I asked. "Did you poke him?" "Yes, but it's ok mom," Kade said. "Look, he can already open his eye." "WHAT??!!" I freaked out. "You didn't poke him IN the eye did you?" "Uh huh," he nonchalantly said. (Maybe he should be watching tv!)

Or the time (actually two times, I'm embarrassed to admit) that I caught Elijah eating blueberries WITH the pet turtles. Is turtle slobber dangerous???? Because I'm pretty sure they shared.....

All in all, it's a great thing for our family. We do things we normally wouldn't. The kids play wonderfully together. I love to see them working on projects and figuring thing out.

In fact I'm enjoying it so much that maybe June will be extra long this year. My kids are still small enough I just might be able to pull that off........

A Wedding Dress, a Little Girl, and a Burp

My little sister is getting married! I'm so excited for her and her fiance. Pam has asked Rylie to be her flower girl, and I don't think anyone is happier than Rylie. It's like a dream come true for her.

Pam invited me to go wedding dress shopping with her yesterday. Rylie was very privileged to be invited to join the "big girls" for this epic event. She carefully picked out her cute bright pink sundress to wear the night before. She wanted me to let her just wear it to bed so she would be all ready to go the next morning. I thought she might look a bit more fresh if she put it on right before we were ready to leave. I talked her into wearing her pajamas.

We got to Springfield early and began our quest to find the perfect dress. Pam looked beautiful in all of them, so it was hard to choose. She finally found the perfect "one" though, and she looks STUNNING in it. It was not Rylie's choice as Rylie is into a bit more floof, lace, frills, and other such girly things than Pam is. But it is exactly Pam.

We decided to go eat lunch at Cheddars to continue our girl's day out. We had to split up our group as the restaurant was very busy. I let Rylie sit with my sisters at their table. After we had eaten, one of my sisters came up to me to tell me that Rylie thought she was going to throw up, and that she was in the bathroom with my other sister. Of course I jumped up to go and check on her. I was not terribly surprised as this is not the first time this has happened. Waffle House seems to have this effect on Rylie also.

 I arrived in the bathroom to find Rylie and Allison in the handicap stall with Rylie leaning over the toilet. She looked peaked and she said her legs were shaking. I thought, "I hope she's not sick." After a few minutes I got her calmed down and told her to come and sit with me. We started making our way through the very crowded restaurant to our seat. All of the sudden Rylie stopped. She began to gag. Right there by all the people eating their delicious lunches. The thought in the front of my mind was, "OH NO!!! SHE'S GOING TO THROW UP RIGHT HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS FULL RESTAURANT AND RUIN EVERYBODY'S DINNER!!!!" The thought in the back of my mind was, "At least I won't have to clean it up!" (I know...... that was terrible....)

As I was quickly deciding whether the best course of action was to pick her up and rush her back to the bathroom, risking her throwing up all along the way, or just keep it contained as much as I could in one spot, she finished her gag with the loudest, biggest, BURP I have ever heard! I didn't know something that large could come out of a child so small.

There she was - my cute little girl in her bright pink sundress, with a flower in her hair, BURPING. Huge. And long. In public! "Are you ok?" I asked "Are you going to throw up too?" I was really hoping not to deal with two embarrassing situations at once. I'm sure the people next to us were hoping that as well. "No, that was it," was her quick reply. She smiled. "I feel great now."  Nice.

After my initial feeling of relief, came the feeling that I probably should apologize to all the people in a 50 foot radius for the unsightly noise that just came from my child, OR duck my head and leave Cheddars on the spot! I hadn't had my dessert yet so I decided to go with the apology. I turned to the table we were closest to, to start my speeches only to see them rolling with laughter. Obviously the dinner show we had just put on was more amusing to others than to me. I skipped the other apologies and went to my table.

Dessert was great. If you've never had the chocolate cake at Cheddars, you need to try it.....

The Joys of Being Married to ME!

"Scoot over!" was the first thing my husband said to me in the wee hours of the morning. "You're squishing me!" "I call it snuggling." I replied. "Besides I'm half your size, I can't possibly be squishing you! I can't scoot over either, I'm on the edge of the bed!" "I know," Dan said, "you're on MY edge." Ohhhh. "Well, don't you like to snuggle?" I mischievously asked him. "When I'm in the bed too....." he said. I scooted over.

Poor Dan. I've raised all 4 children to be snugglers. The guy can't get a break. Where he sits, we all sit. He speaks of getting a recliner. I keep vetoing it. "You can't possibly want to sit by yourself!!!" I say. (He doesn't dare say he might want some alone time.)  Me? I'm in the market for a sectional. The bigger the children get, the smaller our couch gets. But we MUST all sit together.

Sometimes I try to be funny when I wake up in the morning. Dan doesn't much appreciate these antics because he wakes up quite slowly and would rather be left alone. Yesterday morning I woke up, got up on my hands and knees, stuck my face over his and said excitedly, and a bit loudly, "Aren't you glad they invented hair gel???!" Dan opened his eyes and looked at me with a wide eyed look that might have had a bit of fear in it. I didn't get much of a response besides that (I think he might have been in shock) so I got out of bed and looked in the mirror. Then I understood the fear in his eyes. HOLY MOLY!!!! Curly headed people should NEVER and I repeat, NEVER go to bed with wet hair. If you have curly hair you understand what I'm talking about. I would never have let my husband of 10 years see me in that state if I had known what I looked like! Words cannot describe the state of my hair. I went into the kitchen to take care of the very hungry baby. Rylie was sitting in there and she began to laugh. "Mom, you could be a clown in the circus," she giggled. My children do have a way with words..... "That's it," I said. "I'm going to wash my hair." "WAIT," Rylie stopped me. "Show Zackary first!" "Ha, ha" I said.  I washed my hair.

Kids say the bluntest things

Some kids say the cutest things. Mine say the bluntest things. All of them. From the smallest to the biggest.

My 5 year old walked in on me today while I was fixing my hair. "I don't like your hair, Mom," he said. "It doesn't look like you. It looks icky." Thanks Kade. Way to start my day. What does a 5 year old know about hair anyway.

 This is the same 5 year old who just yesterday on his way through the family room said, "Mom, I just pooped my pants." There's no beating around the bush with this kid! Of course I was in the middle of cooking dinner. Cleaning up poopy underwear while cooking dinner is definitely on my list of favorites.... I took a break from cooking to clean my child, his underwear, the toilet, etc. and then went back to cooking. I had dinner about half finished when I walked through the family room to do something. I noticed little brown spots all across the floor......" Oh no," I thought, "break time again..... " After cleaning the little trail of poop drops all the way from the family room to the bathroom, it's a wonder I fed my family dinner!

Rylie is probably my bluntest child. Before we go to anyone's house I have to prep her. "Don't say anything that might remotely be considered rude."  "Mom, why would I?" is her innocent reply. Because maybe you do it all the time..... Take this morning, Dan bought me a nice white leather purse for summer. I finally had gotten around to exchanging all my stuff from my winter one. Rylie walked up to watch what I was doing. "Do you like my new purse?" I asked sweetly. "No," she said, not very sweetly. "It looks like an old lady purse." "What?!! Daddy picked this out just for me." I told her. "He thinks you're an old lady." she said. Daddy and I are DEFINITELY going to talk about this later.....

One of my favorite's was the day I came home from having Kade. The first thing Zack said to me was, "Mom, I thought you told us your belly would be skinnier!"

Someday, maybe these darling comments will be funny to me, or then again maybe someday these kids of mine will have a few children like themselves. =)

A Tax Collector, The Samaritan Woman, and a Few Lepers....

We were at an event the other day in a little town in Arkansas. You know, the kind of town that could give Arkansas a bad name - the ones where teeth are optional, but camo is not. It was that kind of place.

I was sitting with my children watching an event when Elijah started moving down the aisle. I wasn't paying too much attention to him because he was being quiet, until I noticed him going back to the same place over and over. He would run to me, and then run back down to the same chair. I started watching him. He was going to the same person, tapping them on the shoulder, smiling, laughing, and playing for a minute, and then running back. Always the same person though.

Then I saw her. The one he had chosen to be his friend. She didn't have many teeth, didn't look overly clean, was definitely not well dressed, and not really the kind of person I wanted touching my baby.She probably had some weird germs, you see.  You've seen the people I'm talking about. We're not sure where they've been, or when the last time was they bathed, and they might be on meth for goodness sake! Usually we do our best to avoid them.  It looks mean on paper, but it's true. We definitely don't go out of our way to seek them out, and be their friend. 

Then she saw me. Elijah had just run down to her for another round of whatever game they were playing. And she saw me watching. She was reaching out to tickle his belly and instantly pulled her hand back. The smile left her face. She knew. She knew that even though she was accepted by the baby, she wouldn't be approved by the parent. And she was right. EVERYTHING inside me screamed, "Don't touch my kid! You might give him.......something."

But, there's Something inside me greater than myself. Something that said, "Do you remember Zacchaeus the little ornery tax collector? The Samaritan woman who was an outcast? The adulterer that everyone wanted to stone because she was "dirty?" How about the lepers? Everyone had a really good reason for not letting them touch their babies!"

Those were the ones He picked. He went down the "aisle" of life and stopped at their chairs. And He kept coming back. To the same places. He didn't just give them a superficial smile, so others could see he accepted them, He went to their homes for dinner. Jesus made an effort to become their best friend.

They are the ones that are hurting, rejected, that need Jesus, that need to see we really are His hands and feet. And we avoid them. My heart cries even as I write this. I know my heart and it's not what I want it to be.

The Bible says we should have faith like children. I think sometimes we need to see others like children do also. Elijah didn't see any of the things about this woman that I saw. He wanted a new friend, and she did too. He didn't just accept her, he gave her friendship. He caused her heart to smile.

......I looked up at the woman, smiled, and nodded my head. I gave her the OK. I didn't want to, but I had to. She smiled back at me and reached out....and touched my baby. 

Trail Riding in the Mountains

On our vacation we did three death defying activities. We faced a mama bear with her cubs, we went white water rafting, and we went on a trail ride. The trail ride definitely being the scariest of the three!

I'm scared of horses. I'm not talking about the kind of fear I wrote about here. I'm talking about an extreme respect kind of fear. Now don't get me wrong, beautiful horses out in a lush green field, behind a nice white fence, don't bother me in the least. In fact in my imaginary farm I would probably own a few.

I'm very afraid of riding horses. The last time I rode was well over 20 years ago. I was scared to death and didn't see a need to put myself in that situation again. I like things with motors that I can control.

For some strange reason when we were planning our trip, trail riding through the Smoky Mountains on a horse sounded romantic...... (It's not, just so you know.) We decided to give it a try. I mean, really, how scary can a trail horse be?

I looked up several venues for trail riding and found one that boasted of "big man horses." I have a big man, so I thought it was a good fit. We arrived first thing in the morning and were the only ones in line for trail riding. It was a beautiful spring morning in the mountains. The only non beautiful part was that I was about to get on a horse.

We went out to the barn while the man saddled our horses. Then I saw them, the big man horses. Whoa. They were big. Over 6 feet at the shoulder. And he was saddling TWO of them. There was only two of us. I quickly asked, "Don't you have any Shetland Ponies?" The man laughed. He thought I was kidding. I wasn't. I wanted something my feet could touch the ground, and I could walk along while riding.

To my great relief he did have another horse for me. Not a Shetland Pony, but not Goliath either. He pulled her up to me and said, "This is Killer." And then he laughed again. He thought he was funny. I didn't. They must not have frightened customers very frequently.

There were signs everywhere (for the amateurs like me) that said, "Saddles don't keep you on the horse, you must balance!" "What kind of deal is that?" I thought." I want a saddle that ties me to this animal!" Then in our prep talk, the guide said, "There is a section of trail on the side of the mountain where there is no railing. We've never had  a horse step off before....." Before now! I was sure Killer and I were going over the side of that mountain!

I was ready to get off the horse, except I had no clue how to get down. So, we headed up the mountain. Killer didn't like being behind....anyone. She wanted to lead the pack. We were the second horse in the line, and she spent the whole time with her nose touching the lead horse's patushy. And the lead horse had gas. Bad gas. (I don't make this stuff up, people!) Hence the non romantic part of trail riding. The ambiance of horse gas is NOT romantic. At all. I spent a lot of my time trying to hold her back just so I could get some fresh air.

I did end up actually enjoying riding the horse. It was not nearly as scary as I remembered. And we didn't even step off the mountain! I was thinking that I might could get into this horse riding stuff after all. Then I stepped off the horse and walked bow legged for the next hour. Nah....It's not worth it.

Turns out my horse's name was actually Little Kentucky.....

Living With Fear

FEAR.

There is so much emotion tied up in the word fear. I know it well, for fear and I have lived together a long time. Sometimes through Christ I'm an overcomer, sometimes fear overcomes me.

Dan and I have been married for ten and a half years now. A couple years ago I had determined that we would take our first "alone" trip for our 10th anniversary. It was my idea, and I thought it was a great one. Until it came time to go. Then FEAR hit. Those of you who live with fear know why I capitalized it. Fear can be a huge thing. Debilitating.

Satan started hurling fear spears at me. First, it was the fact that no one can watch my children as well as me. If something happened to one of them while I away, I would never forgive myself for going. I was becoming consumed with these thoughts, and they all started with, "what ifs." None of it was reality. Which is how fear comes. I finally came to terms with the fact that God can take better care of my children then I ever can. Peace filled my heart. I knew I wanted to spend this time with my husband, focusing on who we are. I was at rest, ready to go.....

Then the thoughts started again, "What if we die?!" You know, in a car wreck, or on the river, or in a mud slide, or on the trail ride, or, or, or, or..... Who will take care of my children? It's not fair for us to go and take that chance. We shouldn't go. We'll just stay home.

Fear wants to win. Every time. It wants to keep us from living. It wants to keep us from good gifts from God. It wants to make our minds crazy.

And it can.

I decided to go. I wasn't going to let fear win. I was going to have a good time.

Then Dan decided we were going to raft the Ocoee River. We had previously rafted part of it 10 years ago. Before kids. He decided that we were going to raft the whole thing, including the part that is a bit more intense. Satan threw a huge fear dart at me. I was scared to death. The fear of rafting this river was worse than the other fears I had been dealing with. I would wake up at night and not be able to sleep because I was so worried that something would happen to us on this river. I didn't want to go.

I know this whole scenario sounds silly to most of you. I've had those same thoughts. I've seen people have a fear of going to new places, so much so that they just don't go. Fear of meeting new people, fear of trying new things, fear of change. All these things sound very silly to me. My advice is, "Get over it, and just do it."

I found myself in this place. The place of, "I don't think I can get over this and just do it. I'm scared to death. I'm just going to stay home"  This was a new fear for me, usually adventure only has to call my name once.

So, I told Dan that I wasn't going to go. I had already overcome great fear to come on this trip and I was done. "I'm staying back," I told him. He looked at me and said, "No you're not. You're not going to let fear rule your life."  My thought was, "What's new? It already does."

But, I don't want it to. I want Jesus to take it away. You know what I found out though? The fear didn't go away. Not for lack of praying for sure. Every day I fought the battle in my mind. I didn't want Satan to win. I don't want fear to be in charge of what I do. I want Christ to overcome fear through me.

I have learned a few things over the last week. Jesus Christ doesn't always take away our problems. Sometimes I think He allows things in our lives so that we remember that we need Him. How soon I can forget that I need Him! I am reminded of Paul when he said, "And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure." 2 Cor. 12:7

Fear. It's my "thorn in the flesh." I reminds me daily I need God. It causes me to cry out to Him. It makes me realize that I without Him, I CANNOT be.

Now the rest of the story. I took Dan's advice. (And my own to other people.) I moved forward. The fear was not gone, but I chose to go anyway. Sometimes we have to step out even when we're fearful. I went rafting. It was great fun. And then my fears came to pass. Something went wrong as we were surfing a rapid. Four people were sucked out of our boat. I looked around and saw everyone but Dan. I couldn't find him. Then we saw his helmet come up, but that was all, his head didn't surface. Even as I write this the emotions I felt come welling up inside me again. He was caught in a hydraulic undertow, and he couldn't get out. Two years ago a 38 year old man drowned on this river in a circumstance like that. I was scared to death. Then the water, an angel, God, something, suddenly spit him out and he swam gasping to the side of the boat.

And I knew something. God is greater than fear. God is greater than circumstances. God is in control. I am not,  I cannot, I never will be. Even when our fears come to pass, God is still greater. Even when Satan brings fear, God still determines the final outcome. God is the only One who knows the future and God is holding me in His hand. I live with fear. Sometimes daily. And daily, I am reminded that I need a Saviour.

I would much rather write about the amusing things of life, things that make me smile and  laugh. But this is part of this thing called life too.This is my everyday life.

Age.....It's A Beautiful Thing

So......I feel 24. I try not to look in the mirror because I don't see 24. But that's what I feel.

My body's been fighting with me about this lately. My body insists that we are no longer 24, but 34. Unfortunately for me my metabolism agrees with my body. Hence those after baby pounds and pooches have ceased to leave me as they have done in the past. I have determined that this was NOT going to happen to me. I've always had a high metabolism and I intended to keep it! Did you know your metabolism tremendously drops in your 30s? 30s!!!! And here I thought the 30s was the new 20s.

It seems your self control changes once you hit your 30s also. The problem with this is it doesn't seem to decrease... I used to eat one small brownie and be completely satisfied. Now I eat one small pan of brownies and then I'm satisfied. (This might be contributing to the bulge, but I doubt it.)

Well, I've decided it's time to do something about the unwanted bulge around my middle. (Especially after my TWENTY year old sister said, "Yes, I noticed you had that....."  She'll be 34 one of these days.) I began exercising. I did this for TWO WEEKS and nothing happened!!! Nothing. Two weeks. Nothing. Still have a bulge..... I've decided to do something different.

I purchased my first "shapewear item." The word "shapewear" is code for "squish it all in." Shapewear sounds much nicer. I recieved my "shapewear" in the mail today. I took it out and looked at it. It appeared to be nice little tank top. Little did I know about how deceiving looks can be, being inexperienced with these kinds of garments.  I've learned two things about shapewear in the short time I've owned it.
     
     1. If you have claustrophobia, don't bother with shapewear. As I squeezed into this thing I could feel myself start to have anxieties. Then the hyperventilation began. Those little tanks are tight! Breathing is optional once you get it on.

     2. Don't EVER, and I repeat, EVER try to get shapewear on or off without having someone around who can help you. These are NOT  "do it yourself" garments! I managed to get the thing on after much duress. (and hyperventilating.) But, I could not get it off. It rolled up in a tight roll right under my armpits and that's where it stayed. It was stuck. I was stuck...in my shapewear! It would neither go up....or down. The claustrophobia really kicked in then. I couldn't figure out what to do. My kids were the only other people home, and I thought the sight of me flailing around while hyperventilating might scare them. Especially with a rolled up tank stuck under my armpits. I thought maybe I should call and ask for a refund, and while they were on the phone ask if perhaps they send out technical support to help people get these things off.

In the end I did calm myself down enough to eventually get my shapewear off.....by myself.  I burned enough calories that I don't think I'll have to do my workout today. In fact just to recover from the stress, I may have to bake a small pan of brownies.....

   

The Happys

Things that make me happy:

warm sunshine
new spring leaves
summer evenings
picnics
rivers
flowers
ice cream cones eaten outside while they melt
strawberry limeades during happy hour at Sonic
the smell of camping food
riding my bike - every time I go I forget how much I love it.
riding in a convertible
playing in my own backyard
sisters
and my brother
days when there is nothing that HAS to be done
warm breezes
music
wading in a creek
learning
eating chocolate
my husband
the first day of school
the last day of school
baby deer
laughing
being with friends
my entire family sitting on one couch
Sunday lunch at my parents'
drinking hot tea with Dan
Christmas
board games
making smores
life

What give you the happys?

My Aviary

We were outside swinging and making up funny songs this afternoon. It's a beautiful day. You know, the kind of day that it is surely a sin to be indoors. Elijah loves to swing in the baby swing. I think he would stay out there for hours if someone would stay there and push him. The other kids were respectively on their swings and we were singing this song:

It's fun to swing,
While we sing,
In the spring.

We jump up high,
In the sky,
It's like we fly!!!

Our rhyming really went downhill after that, so I'll just write the good verses here.

As you can see, we're quite the song writers. If we could find someone to sing them, I'm sure we would be famous.....

 Rylie, who really loves to write things down, ran inside to grab her notebook so we could remember our song. I had just spun Zack on his swing and he was screaming bloody murder as he was holding on to the bottom of the swing spinning furiously. All of the sudden Rylie began screaming also. "Mom!!!!! There's a bird in our house!!!!!" she squealed. Now I had two children screaming. We live in a retirement neighborhood and our neighbors just LOVE us..... I was just beginning to think that maybe Zack needed rescued when I ditched him to check out the aviary that used to be my house.

I reached the house in time to see a cute little bird flying around my family room. My first thought was, "birds can't control their colons, it's going to poop all over my house!!" My second thought was, "How are we going to chase it out without touching it?" (I'm deathly afraid of mites and diseases.) As the rest of the kids trailed in, the bird flew off into the other part of the house. Out of fear I'm sure.

I then began to squeal. Loudly and frequently. My fear of diseases and mites was escalating with every squeal. And NOW this bird was SOMEWHERE in my house spreading disease. (And most likely pooping.)

I hollered at the kids to go down the hall, find the bird, chase it towards the front of the house, and close all the bedroom doors! While they were doing that I went to prop the front door open so it could fly out. As I was opening the door, Rylie came in and informed me that I almost stepped on the poor little bird. At that message I started jumping around and squealing all over again at the mere thought of squishing a little bird between my toes.

It was lying there looking quite dead. I assumed there were two possible reasons for this. 1. We scared it to death with all our squealing (OK, my squealing.) and running around like madmen. 2. It hit the window trying desperately to escape the madmen and stunned itself. We're going with option 2.

Now we had a couple of problems. We have a cat who is an avid hunter. She's quite fat right now though and prefers slow animals. A stunned bird is very slow. I was sure she would eat her. The other problem was how to get it outside without spreading diseases and mites by touching it.

I fixed the first problem by locking the fat hunter in the garage. Zack fixed the second problem by using Dan's shoe to scoot the bird out the door.

Now my last problem is how to keep Dan from reading this post as he is constantly telling us to CLOSE the back door.........smile.....

Race me Mom?

Kade loves to run. Not run like a normal kid, more like a marathon runner. He can go forever. The older two kids will wear out long before he does.

"Race me, Mom," he said to me the other day. "OK," I agreed all the while thinking that running is not quite what it used to be. "Where do you want to race to?" I asked him. He pointed in the distance The far distance. "That tree over there." he replied. "Kade, I said, I can barely SEE that tree!" "It's OK, Mom", he said reassuringly. "Let's race to THAT tree," I suggest. "Mom, I can TOUCH that tree from here. I know. "But, I might have a chance," I say.

"I can beat you if you race to my tree," he says.

Of course you will. I'll die half way there. Or, I will have to stop and catch my breath......three times......while you're winning. I don't like to lose. Especially to a five year old.

We raced. I won. Barely. I'm only going to admit that here. Next year I probably won't be winning. I may have to fake an injury. With the length of Kade's races it might not be fake.

I love it though. I love the fact that my kids want to race me. They like playing games with me. They want to be WITH me. I like that. It makes my heart sing. It makes me want to race, even though I'm sure I look silly, and I'm probably going to lose.

I'm pretty sure that's how God feels when we WANT to be with Him. I think it makes His heart sing. We were created to WANT to be WITH Him. When my life is crazy, I try to remember that.

Stompers Make a Comeback!

Do you remember Stompers?

 You know, those great little monster trucks that went by themselves. They would go at regular speed with a normal battery, OR you could hook them up to a 9 volt battery and they would ROAR!! Good memories.

I hadn’t seen them in years when Dan and I happened upon some while Christmas shopping. Dan instantly decided we needed 3.  For the kids, of course....

We took them home and wrapped them up. We let the kids open them on Christmas Eve. They were so excited. Well, ok, Dan and I were excited. I think exciting toys are a little more prolific these days than when we were kids. Rylie was really sweet and acted grateful, but she would much rather have had something to do with ballet….. It was fun though. We had Stomper races and monster truck competitions.

The newness has since worn off, and the Stompers are in the bottom of the toy box. The other day Kade came across one. He’s our monster truck enthusiast. He can play with them for hours. He was in the kitchen happily playing trucks with Elijah. They were having a great time when Kade decided to use Elijah’s head as a mountain for the Stomper to go over. Which wasn’t such a bad idea except Elijah as lots of hair…..

 Now those Stompers, they're not cheap toys. Oh no! They're good toys, they're 4wheel drive. Not just two wheels spin, all four wheels spin at once. Which is much better when they are on your child's head eating up his hair. They take in more hair that way. And Kade couldn't have put it in the back of his head, Oh no! He had to set in right in the front where everyone would be sure to see the chopped off bald spot. And, Oh yes, I had to chop off his hair because Stompers don't go in reverse and let out the tightly held hair. Elijah didn't appreciate having a 4wheel drive Stomper hanging off his forehead at all. Some boys would have thought that was cool, but he's not to that age yet. He just knew his hair was being pulled and he was being bonked in the forehead by an unidentified object every time he moved. I did what any desperate mom would do and I got the kitchen shears out. (They were the closest scissors handy.) Elijah suddenly got really nervous. Not only was there an monster truck hanging off his head, banging him in the forehead and pulling his hair, now his mom was coming at him with a large pair of kitchen shears. I had to have Rylie hold him down while I did the worse job of hair cutting I've ever done in my life. (It couldn't have been the kitchen shears....)

Elijah, not really caring much about how he looked, was very happy to be free from me and the Stomper. Kade, on the other hand was not so happy that there was a large amount of hair stuck in his truck. 

Maybe we could nickname it, “Woolly Mammoth!”  Ha! I crack myself up.

All in a Day's Work

I stopped at The Shop the other day on my way home from grocery shopping. Dan was watching 3 of 4 of our children. I walked in to find him standing in the garage holding Elijah's pants in one hand and a blow dryer in the other. He wasn't smiling. "He had a blow out," he stated. "It's really hard to get anything done around here," he added.

 I smiled. If he only knew.........

I was teaching a piano lesson the other day. My two older children are great about watching the baby while I am teaching. Rylie wasn't feeling well, so I gave Zack the task of keeping an eye on Elijah. He was playing the Wii also. I should have remembered that 9 yr. olds are not good at multitasking.

About half way through my lesson, Zack shouts, "Mom! Elijah's naked!" "Oh no," I thought. Elijah's new talent is taking off his own diaper. (Of course, if my child wasn't running around like a hillbilly in just a diaper this wouldn't have happened.) Before I could get up and take care of my child who had been running around naked for who knows how long, Zack said even louder, "Mom!! He pooped!!" Of course he did. He would wait until his diaper was off and I was in the middle of a piano lesson before he did that. "Where?" I asked, not really wanting to know. "On the carpet, right next to the tile," was Zack's reply. Right. Right NEXT to the tile???? Really??? I told my piano student we were taking an indefinite break.

I went in there to find that he didn't just poop on the carpet, but had decided to play in it. He had rubbed it into the carpet and spread it on to the tile. I was horrified. My first thought was, "Zackary, how did you not notice this?" My second thought was, "OH NO! DID HE EAT IT TOO???????" How was I to find out? Did I really want to find out? I mean, do you really WANT to know if your child just ate poop??? I decided to smell his breath. Surely that would be a dead giveaway. It's really hard to smell your child's breath while holding him at arms' length so as not to get poop on yourself because eventually you HAVE to go back and finish your piano lesson. I was grateful to find that his breath still smelled sweet. I decided to believe that he hadn't tried it. We're all happier that way.

I carried him down the hall and plopped him in the tub. I called Zackary and told him that he was NEVER playing Wii again in his life, and to watch his little brother. I quickly cleaned the carpet and tile, all the while thinking we needed to get the professionals in here. I then washed my hands, regained my composure (if that's possible) and finished my piano lesson.

Yep, Dan, I'll take a blowout any day.... =)

The Woodshed With God

I've spent some time on my face before God this past week. He's been reminding me what a wretch I am.

I find myself being critical of others. Often. Too often. It's so easy to find fault in others. For one thing it makes me look better if someone looks worse....

Often. Too often, God steps in and shows me that the faults I find in others are the same faults I have in my own life.

Last week, someone I love was crabby, quite crabby, unusually crabby. This individual is usually very nice. I reacted with some crabbies myself. I felt crabby for crabby was quite justified. I gave all kinds of reasons why this person was acting so - "terribly" -  and why they shouldn't be, and how it was affecting others. And oh, I felt pride build up in my heart, because I was being a much better - "kinder" -  person.

Then I went home.

Alone with my Heavenly Father.

And He spoke to my heart, quite loudly.

He informed me that so often I let my circumstances, or my children, or my mood determine my behavior. I'm pretty good at being kind most of the time in public, but what about every day with the people whom I love the most..... What about when my day is not going as I planned it, or my children are acting like they were raised by apes, or maybe not raised at all, or my husband doesn't do what I want?
At those times I can be:

 unkind.

 crabby.

I am a wretch before a Holy God.

How I need Him! I need Him to create in me a new heart, new eyes, a new perspective. Sometimes I am sure he allows people around me to act unsavory to show me my own heart. Oh! But I'm grateful he does.

I'm so in awe that the Creator of the Universe cares enough about me to take the time to speak to my heart and "spank" out the grime that looks like me, and replace it with righteousness that looks like Jesus. I'm glad He's given me 4 precious children and a sweet patient husband to practice on.

I don't just want the ones outside my home to see Jesus in me, I want the ones who live with me to see Him....and WANT Him because they can see Him...and He is beautiful. Even when I am not.

Thank You Lord Jesus for this everyday life. Thank You that when I mess up today there is a new  tomorrow. Thank You that You are making a new me.

Farming in my mind

I've decided I want a farm. A mini farm that is. I want chickens and a cow. I want chickens for eggs and the cow for meat. My hunk of a husband says that there's no way the children or I would eat Lou Lou Bell after we raised her, but I think we would. Maybe we just won't name her Lou Lou Bell. Maybe we'll just call her Steak, or Hamburger, or something less personal.

I think I want a goat too. I'm not sure why. I certainly don't want to milk a goat! Maybe we would keep the goat around to eat the children's toys that they leave in the yard....  Maybe we could eat the goat too. We'll name him Lambchop.

Actually in reality I probably don't want a farm at all, but in my mind I think I do. I do this every once in awhile. I think I'm a farmer in my mind. The last time it happened, I wanted a garden. My sweet husband who knows me better than I do myself suggested we start with a pot garden. (Just for clarification that's not a garden where you grow "pot.") It's the type of garden where you have 8-10 pots of plants on your back deck. I excitedly planted my plants thinking of all the salsa I was going to put away for the winter. I think I got one tomato that year. I don't like to water or care for plants. In return my dear plants didn't want to give me any fruit.

Dan sweetly told me that spending the money at the farmer's market was probably more cost effective than growing our own produce. So since that time, I go to the farmer's market in the summer and to the grocery store in the winter.

Time makes me forget though, and now I'm sure I want a farm. We just won't have a garden, we'll have animals! Of course, I won't even let my children have a dog because I don't like animals. But I'm sure it will be different once we have our farm.....

We live in the middle of a neighborhood right now and Dan says we are NOT having a backyard chicken coop. (I tried that one last week.) He's taking the "someday approach." "Someday when we have a few acres you can have your chickens and cow," He tells me.

Until then, I'm going to dream about my farm.......and shop at the grocery store.

Schooling Boys

"What do you want on your birthday cake?" I asked my almost 5 year old.  "A Peregrine Falcon," was his quick reply. "A What??" I asked. "A Peregrine Falcon," my 9 year old pipes up. "You know, the fastest bird there is," he says.

No, I don't know. In fact I couldn't have come up with the name "Peregrine Falcon" if you'd offered to pay me. What is a Peregrine Falcon anyway?? But, that's what my little boy wants on his birthday cake. Oh, and he wants to go bird watching at his party.... 

What's his fascination with birds, I wonder. Then I remember. Zack and Rylie have been studying birds in science. We do science together. I study with the two of them on the couch while Kade plays cars or ball on the floor. He's 4, not nearly old enough to understand fourth grade science right? Plus, he just plays on the floor with his toys in his own little world. Half the time he's singing or talking to himself. So, why does he know so much about birds? 

Zack is 9 and in fourth grade. He drives me crazy during school sometimes. Mainly because when he's studying his spelling he's usually on his head. Literally. Upside down, on his head with his rear end in the air. "Zack, you're supposed to be studying," I say. "I am, Mom," He replies. "Prove it," I say. He then rattles off a list of words to me that most adults have trouble spelling. OK, so he was studying. He memorizes states and capitals while shooting hoops, he does his reading while hanging off the end of the couch, he does his math homework on his stomach on the floor, and geography facts are beast learned while riding in the car trying to beat dad. I know it's not traditional, but he's getting it. And isn't that the point in the end? 

Boys are a different breed.  I can say that because I'm not one. =) I'm a school nerd. I loved school. I loved sitting at my little desk diligently doing my work. The thought never even crossed my mind that my seat was too hard and it made my bottom hurt. (This is the story I get every time I make Zack sit at the table. Somehow the comfort of his derriere is connected to the level of activity his brain can handle.)

I'm not saying boys CAN'T learn the traditional way. My husband who can't sit still in church to this day made it through traditional school quite well. I am saying that maybe boys learn better a different way. I substitute taught for several years and had the privilege of being in the high school special ed class frequently. The observation I made was that 8 out of 10 in those classes were BOYS. They weren't dumb, they just weren't cut out to sit on a hard chair and listen to lectures. They thought they were dumb though, because they were stuck in the special ed class.

It's hard for me to think outside the box. I love homeschooling, but I want everyone to sit down and study like I would. My way tends to frustrate my boys. They work better if they are sent outside first for exercise and fresh air. (And maybe again  frequently between subjects.) They like goals and responsibility. I have a friend who makes a checklist for her son and he's responsible to complete it on his own. It's been one of his best school years yet. He likes knowing what he needs to do and being responsible to get it finished. Boys definitely DON'T like to be micro managed. They don't want to sit in one spot to do their work. Variety of location definitely improves attitude!

These are just a few things I've observed in my short time of schooling boys. Mine aren't grown yet, so I don't know what the final outcome will be. I'm willing to take a chance on this education thing though. I  hope  when they're grown they will have learned well, and that they look back on their years of school with good memories.

Me? I'm learning every day. I'm learning that I'm not always right. I'm learning that God made every child unique and they all learn differently. I'm learning to roll with that. I'm learning that WHAT you learn is more important than HOW you learn it.

After all, God gave me 3 sons.......




*I wanted to add a disclaimer to this post.*
I do not think boys cannot do well in a traditional school setting. There are so many that do. I also don't think that homeschooling is for everyone. I DO think that no matter where your son is in school that you can creatively help him learn and do his best by learning how he learns best and giving him opportunities to learn in that way. 

I Can Drop It

If I can pick it up, I can drop it.

Take the large tub of margarine for example. You know the one I shouldn't be eating because margarine is extremely bad for you and can clog your arteries. And I'm sure multiple other things. But, I do love it, so I keep it around. Anyway, I picked it up off the counter and promptly dropped it on the floor. Because that's what I do, I drop things. Margarine makes a great mound of greasy mass on the tile. Of course Elijah was in the kitchen with me, so I had to hurry and clean it before he spread it. Playing in a mound of margarine is way better than Play Doh! There's really no fast way to clean up margarine. And if you get it all over your hands like I did, it's even slower. I guess I better invest in some Draino now....

Dan knows I drop things and he loves me anyway. In fact he loves me so much he bought me the military grade cell phone. You know the one you can drop in the toilet and it will survive. Or you can throw it off the roof of the house and it will still ring..... I'm on my second one now. The first one did fine until I lost it in the car.

 I was showing a car on our car lot and had opened the hood to show the engine. When I tried to to close the hood, it wouldn't close. So, I slammed it harder, and harder, and HARDER. When the customers left I couldn't find my phone. I knew I had it when they got there.... I searched and searched. I did find it. (Which I think I should get little credit for because I'm not very good at finding things either.) There it was in the hood of the car, jammed nicely.

Phones seem to be my favorite thing to drop. We're on our third set of handsets at home. That's about 8 or 9 phones I've been through. Dan's seriously considering stock options.... Me, I'm thinking we should put more padding on the floor....

So, the day Dan called me from the bathroom and said, "You'll never believe what I just did!" is a day I will always look back on with fondness.  "I just flushed the phone down the toilet," he said in disbelief. (Dan is ultra responsible and never does anything like this.) "You didn't even TRY to save it?" I said. (Secretly rejoicing that it wasn't me giving this confession.)  "There was no saving it," was his reply.

We even tried calling the phone to see if it was in the pipes.......

Maybe going back to the day of phones on short cords is not such a bad idea!

The Power of a Friend

I've been home for almost 7 days now. Home, as in, not leaving the house. We've had a pretty bad stomach virus that nobody else wants. So, I didn't go out, and no one came in. For most people that may not seem like a long time or a big deal, but for me it is. I need people. I love people.

Today the throw up, diarrhea, sickness, tiredness, lack of fresh air, etc. caught up with me. I cried over nothing and everything. I was sure no one loved me, because, my goodness, as soon as we have germs in our house not even my family comes to see me!!! (Just for the record I avoid them like the plague when they are sick too.)

Then after lunch, out of the blue, an old friend texted me and asked if I had time to chat - ON THE PHONE! This same friend was the one that I was just thinking probably didn't have time for me anymore because she lives in a new city and has so many new friends, and probably never even thinks of me. She thought of me and asked me to talk. The whole atmosphere of my prison changed. The sunshine came out even though it was raining. I was suddenly more patient and kind to my children.

At suppertime my parents stopped in. They just live down the street and we see them often, but it's not very common for them to drop by and visit me at my house. I was fixing pancakes and bacon and asked them if they would stay. They did. We ate and talked. Their visit did a lot to refuel my emotional tank.

Neither one of these people knew I was having a rough day, they just randomly thought of me and acted on that thought.

I'm a busy stay at home mom with a heart for missions. Sometimes I get so frustrated that I'm not doing anything for God. I know I'm raising kids and that's huge, but my heart yearns to be doing something more.

Maybe a phone call or a visit is what I'm supposed to be doing. There's something special about a live voice. I love Facebook and text. They are great for keeping in touch with people, but don't take the place of talking with a friend. Part of missions is being Jesus' hands and feet. That's what I felt today. I felt the love of Jesus. I felt like He reminded someone of me and they acted on the thought. I ended the day feeling loved not just by people, but by God.

I have good friends I've let slip through the cracks because of lack of taking the time to keep in contact. I know people who are lonely, home bound, or discouraged. I know it's cliche, but "What would Jesus do?" He always had time for people. Always.


It takes just a few minutes to send a card in the mail or call someone. It takes a little longer to drop in and see someone. I think sometimes these things seem out of style, but they are timeless. They're small things, but things I can do right now, right at this stage in my life. God brings people to my mind all the time.

I love checking my mail every day. I rarely get anything exciting, but still there's the hope that I might. It means the world to me when someone takes time to send me a card or a note in the mail. I know it's an uncommon thing to do these days and it means even more because of it.

When I was younger I traveled the world to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Now I stay at home in a small town in Arkansas doing dishes, folding laundry, and chasing babies. I need to let the US Postal Service and the telephone lines travel for me. The same love of Jesus that I took across the globe can travel those lines just as well.

I felt God's love today because of small gestures from other people. We are His hands, His feet.

"Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies."  Mother Teresa