I was never meant to be a nurse. I don't like blood. In fact that's a little bit of an understatement. My hypochondrism kicks into double time when there's blood involved. I can almost faint over a paper cut. On myself.
God gave me three sons. There is almost always blood in my house. Someone is always bleeding and always needing me to take care of it. But, I have developed a skill. I have become an expert at treating wounds without ever looking at them. If I look I get light headed. And if I'm lying on the couch fanning myself I'm of no good to anyone. I can almost stitch up a wound without ever seeing it. I'm almost. that. good......
If my sons are not bleeding, they are getting ready to bleed as they explore, discover, create, chop, dig, hide, etc. They love all kinds of activities, but blood must be involved. I really think they like to watch me walk around with my eyes closed. My daughter has the talent to be involved in these things without the blood.
I wish she would teach her brothers.
The other day they were all four playing outside. They came to the door excitedly yelling that they had discovered onions in the yard. It was insisted upon that I come out and see these amazing yard onions.
I remember the joy of discovery as I pulled up wild onions out of the yard as a child, so I went out to take a look. Much to my surprise these onions were HUGE!! Much bigger than the green onions I buy at the store. The kids were ecstatic. "We're going to find more!" they said as they scampered off. I briefly wondered where they found these tall wild onions. Dan keeps the yard mowed quite short. It was a fleeting thought though, and I just let them go. They were having fun and no one was bleeding....
After their "harvest" they asked if we could eat them. I didn't see any reason why not, except for the dirt on them. I told them to leave them outside and we would ask dad to make sure it was okay to eat large wild onions.
Rylie snuck a few in and washed them in the bathroom while I wasn't looking. I later discovered the pretty white onions on the bathroom floor washed clean. I thought, "Why not? I'll cook them up for the kids in something." No reason to kill the joy of discovery. Right?
A couple hours later my botanist sister came over. She saw our onion harvest and asked me about it. "They're wild onions." I said. She just looked at me. "Are you sure?" she asked. "Well, what else would they be?!" I replied a little indignantly. Like I wouldn't know an onion when I saw one!
"They look a little like daffodil bulbs...." she said slowly. "Daffodil bulbs???" I repeated. "Those look like onions!" "And daffodil bulbs," she said. "What were you going to do with them." "Eat them," I slowly admitted. "Daffodil bulbs are poisonous," she stated. "I knew that," I lied. "How poisonous?" "You don't want to eat them," she said.
"Well, maybe they are just really big, wild onions," I said without much confidence. "Kids," I hollered. "Where did you pull up all these wild onions." "In the flower beds," came their quick, happy reply.
"Explains the lack of tall onions in the freshly mown yard...." I thought to myself.
As I sat there looking at the "poisonous onions" that I almost fed to my children, a second thought came through my mind - "My kids just pulled up my daffodils!!!! I fight the deer all year in my flower beds, and now my kids pull up the only thing the deer won't eat!" (Because they are poisonous, I'm assuming....) Relief at not poisoning my kids and frustration over pulled up flower bulbs were working side by side in my brain.
My sister suggested I replant the "clean" daffodil bulbs in the chance they would grow again.
"At least it was poison instead of blood this time," I told myself as I gathered up the bulbs.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Thursday, May 8, 2014
Shopping F-U-N
We were in Branson the other day, and after a fun outing at Silver Dollar City had a little extra time to kill. I hinted to Dan that I had received a 30% off coupon for Kohls in the mail just recently. (Of course I had forgotten it at home...) And after almost 12 years of marriage Dan's getting better about figuring out hints and immediately turned the car towards Kohls. Luckily for me there is a big sport's store in the same shopping center which keeps the boys busy for awhile. Dan dropped Rylie and I off to go shopping and headed down to the more manly store. We were happy, just the two of us without the boys to tell us they were bored, or to hurry up. I really love shopping with my daughter! The only thing that put a damper on the moment was the fact that I was shopping for a swimsuit.
This used to be a joyful occasion for me....before I turned 35 and changed shapes..... Now, not only is the challenge to find a decent swimsuit that is not ugly, but one that the size isn't mismarked! My sister insists that it's not the swimsuit company that is mismarking their sizes, but I'm sure it has to be! They can't get it right! And every year it gets worse. My sweet daughter loves to help though, and since I was trying to make this a good experience for her I didn't fuss about mismarking swimsuit companies too much as I pulled 3 different sizes off the rack.
"Why THREE?" you ask. I'll tell you - The first one is the size I used to wear, the second is the size I think I wear, and the third is the size I actually wear.
After trying on several that I wouldn't wear to a private pool party in my own backyard, I finally found one that I was happy with. The swimsuit company even got the size right!! It was in the second category - the one I think I wear, which at this point in my life I'll take any day. I was standing in the dressing room, happily admiring my suit in the mirror when Rylie came up behind me.
"What do you think, Rylie?" I asked. She loves to be included in the deciding process no matter who the clothes are for. I thought she would be thrilled I asked her opinion. "Ummm, Mom," she started slowly. "I like the suit, but you look a little F-A-T in it." she spelled out in a low voice. "Rylie!" I said a little startled. "I know how to spell!!" "I know," she replied. "You know, it just doesn't sound so mean when I spell it."
I came home and ordered size number three online. The swimsuit company wins again.
This used to be a joyful occasion for me....before I turned 35 and changed shapes..... Now, not only is the challenge to find a decent swimsuit that is not ugly, but one that the size isn't mismarked! My sister insists that it's not the swimsuit company that is mismarking their sizes, but I'm sure it has to be! They can't get it right! And every year it gets worse. My sweet daughter loves to help though, and since I was trying to make this a good experience for her I didn't fuss about mismarking swimsuit companies too much as I pulled 3 different sizes off the rack.
"Why THREE?" you ask. I'll tell you - The first one is the size I used to wear, the second is the size I think I wear, and the third is the size I actually wear.
After trying on several that I wouldn't wear to a private pool party in my own backyard, I finally found one that I was happy with. The swimsuit company even got the size right!! It was in the second category - the one I think I wear, which at this point in my life I'll take any day. I was standing in the dressing room, happily admiring my suit in the mirror when Rylie came up behind me.
"What do you think, Rylie?" I asked. She loves to be included in the deciding process no matter who the clothes are for. I thought she would be thrilled I asked her opinion. "Ummm, Mom," she started slowly. "I like the suit, but you look a little F-A-T in it." she spelled out in a low voice. "Rylie!" I said a little startled. "I know how to spell!!" "I know," she replied. "You know, it just doesn't sound so mean when I spell it."
I came home and ordered size number three online. The swimsuit company wins again.
Lessons Learned From a Tornado
A tornado can change everything in a split second. I was never afraid of tornadoes, even as a child. Don't get me wrong, I never wanted to see one up close, but the thought of a tornado didn't bring fear. That all changed in 2011 when an F5 tornado hit Joplin, MO. The images on tv still haunt me. The foundations swept clean that were once homes. The realization that the safest place in your house may not be safe at all. Understanding that you may not be able to protect your family. I have been scared of tornadoes since that time
We were under a tornado watch last Sunday. I was concerned, but hopeful that it wouldn't turn into anything. By God's grace it didn't. I was very thankful when I put my babies to bed that night that all was safe. I went to sleep peacefully.
Then I woke up to the news reports. I didn't know that my neighbors in central Arkansas had been hit by a terrible tornado. The images started rolling in again. Homes, gone. People, dead. Disaster, everywhere.
And then stories. Stories of some people's survivals and other people's tragic losses. I get sucked in. I start reading them as people repost them on Facebook. My heart aches for these people. To not only lose every, single possession you have, but to lose a child or a spouse on top of it.
Unimaginable losses.
One story stuck out to me more than the others though. It was about a mom and a dad, who even though they were broken and hospitalized, had somehow survived the storm. But even though they had survived, they lost their entire home, and their two sons.
Unimaginable.
The story was written by the mom's friend who had gone to visit her in the hospital. Why this story stood out to me more than the others was what the woman in the hospital bed, now childless had to say.
"She said her son has always talked about heaven. She said He looked at her Sunday afternoon, before the storm, and told her he was ready to go to heaven. "Will you miss me?" he asked her. "Well yes," she said, "but let's not talk like that now." "How long will you miss me?" he persisted. And she just smiled and said, "I guess until I see you again."" *
Her two boys knew Jesus. They had led a friend to Christ just a few weeks earlier. They had the faith of a child.
I was touched by this story. Not just because of the faith the mom has shown in the midst of loss, but because my faith is challenged by the testimony of the children.
First, these children were witnessing. How often do I pass up an opportunity to share my faith? How often do I only choose Christian friends, and thus have very little opportunity to share my faith.
Second, there was no fear in death. This boy knew beyond a shadow of a doubt where he was going, and Who he was going to be there with.
Here is where conviction sets deep in my heart. I. Doubt. God. More than I care to admit. I'm not talking about doubting what God can do, I'm talking about doubting His very existence! It looks very shameful on paper, and it is. But I do.
Sometimes I let the knowledge in the world get in my head and I wonder if there is even a God. If there even can be a God. (I know, shock, right?)
Then I read the story of these two boys that were too young to die, yet faithful to trust in their Savior. They knew, not only heaven, but God is very real. And I know that today, beyond a shadow of a doubt, they are in Heaven with Jesus. Seeing Him with their eyes for the first time.
You see, I didn't need to see the movie to know that "heaven is for real". I just needed to read a story about two boys that went there last Sunday.
Someone commented that God has a purpose for each one of us to accomplish here on earth before He takes us home. He said that these boys were able to accomplish theirs in a short period of time when it takes others 100 years. I thought that was a good point. He's right. We're all here for a reason. And we need to be about doing His business.
If I'm wasting time doubting God, I'm not fulfilling my purpose.
God used the story of these boys to bring renewed faith into this ole heart. Their lives (and deaths) are still at work for their Savior. I am challenged by two children to live a life of faith and action for Christ.
I know my God is real, and I cry out at the same time with the father in Mark 9:24 - "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief!
* Excerpt was taken from this blog post; you can read the story in it's entirety here - http://thehodgepodgedarling.blogspot.com/2014/04/the-cheerleader.html?m=1
We were under a tornado watch last Sunday. I was concerned, but hopeful that it wouldn't turn into anything. By God's grace it didn't. I was very thankful when I put my babies to bed that night that all was safe. I went to sleep peacefully.
Then I woke up to the news reports. I didn't know that my neighbors in central Arkansas had been hit by a terrible tornado. The images started rolling in again. Homes, gone. People, dead. Disaster, everywhere.
And then stories. Stories of some people's survivals and other people's tragic losses. I get sucked in. I start reading them as people repost them on Facebook. My heart aches for these people. To not only lose every, single possession you have, but to lose a child or a spouse on top of it.
Unimaginable losses.
One story stuck out to me more than the others though. It was about a mom and a dad, who even though they were broken and hospitalized, had somehow survived the storm. But even though they had survived, they lost their entire home, and their two sons.
Unimaginable.
The story was written by the mom's friend who had gone to visit her in the hospital. Why this story stood out to me more than the others was what the woman in the hospital bed, now childless had to say.
"She said her son has always talked about heaven. She said He looked at her Sunday afternoon, before the storm, and told her he was ready to go to heaven. "Will you miss me?" he asked her. "Well yes," she said, "but let's not talk like that now." "How long will you miss me?" he persisted. And she just smiled and said, "I guess until I see you again."" *
Her two boys knew Jesus. They had led a friend to Christ just a few weeks earlier. They had the faith of a child.
I was touched by this story. Not just because of the faith the mom has shown in the midst of loss, but because my faith is challenged by the testimony of the children.
First, these children were witnessing. How often do I pass up an opportunity to share my faith? How often do I only choose Christian friends, and thus have very little opportunity to share my faith.
Second, there was no fear in death. This boy knew beyond a shadow of a doubt where he was going, and Who he was going to be there with.
Here is where conviction sets deep in my heart. I. Doubt. God. More than I care to admit. I'm not talking about doubting what God can do, I'm talking about doubting His very existence! It looks very shameful on paper, and it is. But I do.
Sometimes I let the knowledge in the world get in my head and I wonder if there is even a God. If there even can be a God. (I know, shock, right?)
Then I read the story of these two boys that were too young to die, yet faithful to trust in their Savior. They knew, not only heaven, but God is very real. And I know that today, beyond a shadow of a doubt, they are in Heaven with Jesus. Seeing Him with their eyes for the first time.
You see, I didn't need to see the movie to know that "heaven is for real". I just needed to read a story about two boys that went there last Sunday.
Someone commented that God has a purpose for each one of us to accomplish here on earth before He takes us home. He said that these boys were able to accomplish theirs in a short period of time when it takes others 100 years. I thought that was a good point. He's right. We're all here for a reason. And we need to be about doing His business.
If I'm wasting time doubting God, I'm not fulfilling my purpose.
God used the story of these boys to bring renewed faith into this ole heart. Their lives (and deaths) are still at work for their Savior. I am challenged by two children to live a life of faith and action for Christ.
I know my God is real, and I cry out at the same time with the father in Mark 9:24 - "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief!
* Excerpt was taken from this blog post; you can read the story in it's entirety here - http://thehodgepodgedarling.blogspot.com/2014/04/the-cheerleader.html?m=1
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