Blood and Onions

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.

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.

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

Herding Chickens

We have a large convertible. It's a 1966 Pontiac Bonneville. It's as long as a school bus. Okay, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but just slight. It's very long.  And extremely heavy too. I know this for a fact. I know this because I ran over my son's bicycle with it the other day. Didn't even know I was running it over until I felt the last "thump." Whenever you feel a "thump" under your car and you have no idea you've run anything over, panic sets in. Panic as in - "Where are all the children???!!" I was never so grateful that I ran over a bike! I quickly hid the very damaged bike from my son because he was not going to be the least bit grateful it was the bike I ran over.....

You might wonder how this can happen. Me, running over items in my own garage. Well, let me tell you. Getting out of my house by myself with four kids in tow is an extreme sport. By the time I'm backing the car out of the garage I'm so exhausted that I can't see straight.

Don't get me wrong, they're good kids, but something happens the minute I say we have to be somewhere at a certain time. They turn into chickens. Literally. It's like herding chickens. Have you ever herded chickens? They don't herd, they scatter.

That's what my kids do - scatter. I feel like the farmer's wife with her hands outspread trying to coax the chickens into the coop. As soon as they get close to the door they all go in different directions. And squawk! Don't forget the squawking. There's a lot of that going on right before we go somewhere. I must admit, most of it is coming out of my mouth. "Get your shoes on!" I squawk. They squawk back, "We don't know where they are." "Just wear your brother's shoes. We're going to be late," I say. "He can't find his either," is the squawk I hear. "Nobody has shoes??" I ask incredulously. Nope, they're all gone. Right before we need to be somewhere. No shoes. I began searching for shoes. "Here are two shoes; put them on," I say as I hand them to one of my chickens. "They don't match," he squawks. "Wear your long pants, no one will know," I reply. "I can't find my pants," he squawks back.

The farmer's wife is about to lose it. We're running late again and no one is even in the car.  I look around at my mismatched children with a sigh, stretch my arms out, and start herding towards the door. "I didn't brush my teeth!" one squawks. "Just keep your mouth closed." I say. "The whole time?" he asks. "Yes," I answer. "I might get hungry, I better go get a snack," one says as she veers out of the herd. I grad her shirttail and pull her back in. "I have to go to the bathroom!" another says desperately. "Make it quick or hold it." I say unsympathetically.

Finally I get all four of my chickens out the door. Ahhh, success. Almost. Now we have the mini van shuffle. I thought that the two sliding doors were a great invention when mini vans came out with them, but now that I have four chickens, err, I mean children, they're not so great. I have just spent 10 years of my life getting them out the door, and now they're going through the mini van like someone yelled, "Chinese Fire Drill!" In one side, out the other. Just like chickens. And they're quick!  I can't catch them! I know I used to be faster. My baby climbs in the car and goes to the very back corner and sits smiling at me. "Come here right now," I say as I reach my arms toward him. He sits and smiles. He's just out of my reach even with my dramatic stretching and waving of arms trick. I start squawking again, "You better come here right now, or I'm going to climb back there and get you!" I know what he's thinking, he's thinking, "I want to see her crawl across all the baby seats and car seats into the very back and get me. I'll just wait here."  I finally coax him into his baby seat. Then I hide outside one of the doors and one by one catch the Chinese Fire Drillers.

We're already a half hour late, but we're finally on our way. When we pull into our destination my daughter pipes up from the back seat, "Mom, I forgot my shoes...."

My friend sees me and tells me I look tired. "Oh, I've just been herding chickens," I reply.

And one wonders why I run over bikes.....

I'm "Pooped" Out!

"Honey! Can you come in here?" My husband yelled from the bathroom last Sunday morning. (It always happens on Sunday, you know.) "What's going on?" I replied. "Elijah pooped in the tub!" He said.

"Hmmmm. I'm really busy," I said. "I don't think I can make it in there right now."

"He's picking it up and putting it out of the tub!" Dan said with a little more urgency in his voice.

"I definitely can't make it in there for that one," I gagged, as I quickly busied myself in some non-urgent activity. So glad he picked Sunday to do that instead a day Dan's at work! Whew, close one...

Don't get me wrong, I've done my share of "duties....."

Some days it seems never ending. If the mess is not coming out of them, they are creating it.

Elijah came down the hallway the other day running towards me with a clean diaper in his hand. He was exclaiming, "Wet, wet, wet!" as he ran to me swinging the diaper in the air. "Are you wet, Elijah?" I asked him sweetly. "Do you need your diaper changed?" He just kept repeating, "Wet, wet, wet!" As I reached out to the get new diaper from him, I realized that that was what was wet.

"How did this get wet?" I tentavely asked him. He's not quite three feet tall, so there's not that many places he can reach water. That was what scared me.

He didn't seem overly concerned with trying to tell me how it got wet, so I tried the "show momma" method. He liked that idea and headed back down the hall. Toward the bathroom... "Of course," I thought. "Of course, he got it wet in the bathroom." He happily showed me how he had dunked the diaper in the potty and than shook it all over and down the hall.

I wonder if they make locks for those things....

And then....

We were headed to my sister's house recently to celebrate a birthday. Unbeknownst to us, my sis and her husband were using this event to get both sides of the family together to announce that they were expecting their first child. What a special occasion in anyone's life, right?

When we showed up Elijah was a little fussy saying that his belly hurt. I was holding him, trying to comfort him and keep him calm. We were there barely five minutes when he decided to relieve his belly ache by throwing up all over Pam's kitchen, and me, and my brand new cowgirl boots. Yes, you heard me right, my cowgirl boots.

This is the part where vanity comes back to get you. I know it's strange for me to own cowgirl boots in the first place, but I saw them, I loved them, and asked Dan to get them for me for Christmas. I like them so much, I could almost become a cowgirl! (This is the part where my sisters are rolling with laughter at me.) Okay, so becoming a cowgirl is stretching it a bit, but I do love the boots.

So, there I stood. In my sister's kitchen with puke all over my new cowgirl boots (and her kitchen), seconds before the "big" announcement. The only congratulations I could offer as we quickly cleaned up the mess and left was, "Welcome to parenthood, this is what you have to look forward to!"

And I love every moment of it.

More Thoughts on Hailey Owens

I can't get Hailey Owens off my mind. Even without the news and Facebook reminders, I still daily think of her and her family.

"Where is God in all this?" "How can a loving God allow such things to happen?"

How many times have we heard these questions, or asked them ourselves.

As I have pondered this situation a different perspective has come to my mind. May I be so bold as to write it down in black and white:

There is no good in this world, EXCEPT for God. If it were not for God all of our children would be murdered and kidnapped. We would be so overrun with crime that we could never leave our homes. So I say again, "There is no good in this world except for God."

Did anyone notice that it was ONE man that took the life of Hailey Owens, and it was TEN THOUSAND that showed up in support for her family? What about the FIFTEEN HUNDRED bikers that rode in honor of her? Or the MULTITUDE of prayers, money, food, and other donations that many people have made to this family. ONE evil vs. THOUSANDS of good.

Instead of questioning God's goodness, maybe we should be thankful for His presence.

The Bible says, " Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights,"

When Jesus was on earth He never ceased doing good. He healed, He fed, He comforted, He taught, He loved. He was on this earth for a short 33 years, and when He left He said it was our job to do as He did. We are to BE Jesus on earth.

And this is what it looks like - people rallying around a family in the midst of an atrocious tragedy.
People going out of their way to reach out to someone that they don't even know. People caring enough to watch out for their neighbors.

So, while I say this is a horrendous thing that has happened, I say also that God IS still here, and He IS still good, and He is showing His heart through the thousands of people in this community.

May we never cease to do good, and in so doing may the world know that God is real and that He is good.

A Mom's Thoughts on a Kidnapping.

I'm a mom.

A mom.

 Days like today I don't want to be a mom. I almost wish I wasn't. I don't want to be responsible for the welfare of four young children. I don't want to have to make the decisions that might not turn out. I. Don't. Want. To. I want to lie in my bed and scream. Scream that it's not fair. That it should not be.

Life shouldn't be like this.

You see, I have a friend, and she had a niece. A niece that was kidnapped in a town not far from me yesterday and murdered. A beautiful 10 year old girl who will never turn 11.

 It's not fair.

I'm scared. I don't want my children to leave my sight. I don't want them to sleep in their own rooms. I don't even want to let them out in their own backyard to play. My son may never ride his bike down the street again. I know it sounds crazy, but I'm spilling my gut here. And this is what I'm feeling.

There's a lump in my throat and a sickness in the pit of my stomach. I want to move. Get away from.... the world.

Then I have a reality check: We live here.  Here on this earth. There's nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. No guarantees.

Maybe we could all hide in a room. With the door locked. And no windows. Maybe one of those bomb shelters from the sixties. No one could get in, and we couldn't get out. No one could even see us or our children. We could stay there until, I don't know, forever? And hide. In the dark.

Sounds good at the moment.

"But, what kind of existence is that?" I think. "It's not," my heart says. "There's no living in the hiding. There's no freedom in fear."

"Why did this happen?" Everyone wants to know. "I HAVE NO IDEA!!!"  I want to scream. And I don't. And the lump comes back to my throat.

I do know we live in a fallen world. One that's not perfect and never will be until Christ comes and makes all things new. I also know that no matter what I do, I can't guarantee my children will survive tomorrow, or tonight, for that matter. In my heart I know that keeping them in a bomb shelter will only stifle their lives instead of strengthen them.

We were meant to live in the light. We were meant to spread our wings. To try new things and discover. To experiment and explore. To live up to our full potential. To be what HE created us to be.

You can't do that while you're hiding from "what might happen." Neither can your kids. Or mine.

Sometimes "things" do happen. Terrible things. We do our best to teach and prepare our kids, but sometimes they still happen..... Sin reigns on this earth we live on. But the truth is, that's exactly where Satan wants us to be. So scared of the bad that we can't do any good.  That we aren't any good.

I don't want that to be me. I want to let my kids enjoy the "sunshine" of this life. I want to trust in Someone greater than myself. I choose to trust that even in the midst of the heartache and craziness  of this life that God is still working, and that I have a purpose greater than hiding.

There is NO living in the hiding.

I keep reminding myself that, and I keep praying for this dear family.