"I don't have time," I thought to myself. "Homeschooling 3 kids with a toddler running around is a job in itself. On top of that I have my piano students, church duties, the Bs (baseball and ballet), the class I'm teaching, not to mention making dinner and trying to keep the house clean. Oh, and then there's the laundry. It never stops. If they would just stop. wearing. clothes. So much to do, so not enough hours in the day."
"I just don't have time."
"I don't have time to stop and see them."
But then the memories come flooding in -
I've known them since I was 11. They took me into their hearts as soon as they met me, and loved me as much as their own grandchild. They taught me to love church, God's work, and pound cake. I used to hang out at their house, drive their golf cart around, play with their "real" grandchildren, and talk fishing with them. They took me out on the lake and on a three week camping trip to West Texas. I played the piano while he sing and played cards with her. So many happy memories of hours together.
Oh, the time they invested in me because they loved a funny looking little girl who had all the time in the world!
When they moved away to be by their children, I was sad. It had been a wonderful 10 years. But, I understood; they needed to be by family as they got older. Besides, I was an adult now and my life was getting busy. Not as much time anymore for long visits and pound cake.
Fast forward twelve more years. They've come home. The gentleman, he's 81 now, but you would never know it. His beautiful wife is suffering with dementia and failing health. They want to spend these years here, in a place where they were so happy.
I'm in my 30s now with four kids, a husband, and the normal American busy life. I'm not that little teenager anymore with hours to kill.
But their life has taken a turn. They aren't busy anymore. No more fishing, boating, mission trips, church activities, or even walks. Because of her health, they can't even make it to Sunday church most days. The lonely long hours creep by for them. This is certainly not what they are used to, or where they want to be, but this is where they are.
I finally find a moment between school and ballet to sneak away and go see them. I walk in. She looks up at me from her spot on the couch. She doesn't remember a lot anymore, but she knows me. I'm not sure she knows my name, but she knows me. She says, "I sure do like you." I smile, give her a hug, and sit down beside her. She reaches over and takes my hand. She holds my hand for a half an hour while I visit with her husband. It's too hard for her to carry on a conversation, but she wants me to be there by her. We talk about old times, their kids, and the birds outside. Way too soon I get up to go because it's time to take Rylie to ballet class. "I wish I could stay longer," I say. "Please come again soon," she replies, "We love to have you." (It's pretty much the only thing she's said.) "I will," I say, trying to think of when I will be able to make it back by.
As I drive the to ballet, I can't help but think about the love the man has for his wife. At 81 he is caring for her better than any nurse could. He makes her meals, helps her walk, takes her on drives, and is so patient with the ever prevailing dementia that is overtaking her mind and body. He won't leave her side whether it's at home, or when she is in the hospital for weeks at a time. And she doesn't want him to. He meant it over 55 years ago when he said, "for better or worse," and "till death do us part." He is kinder to her than any young man trying to win a fair lady ever was.
And they're lonely. These are lonely, long days for them.
And they're not the only ones. There are so many elderly at home, with nothing to fill the long, lonely hours and days because of failing health. They need people, but can't get out to see them. Some of them are our parents and our grandparents, some are other people's grandparents. Some have nobody.
We must not forget. We MUST NOT forget these elderly people who paved the way for us. Who made time for us when we were young. Who raised us and invested in our lives. Who still have so much to say, but oftentimes, no one to say it to. Stories to tell, encouragement to share, smiles to give, love that needs a recipient. And they're at home, hoping they are not forgotten. Hoping someone will stop by.
They are easy to forget because you don't see them unless you go to see them. And our lives are so busy.
During the snow Dan took Zack to shovel a driveway of another elderly couple in our church. They couldn't make it to their mailbox because of the snow. Zack asked me why he had to go. I told him because I hoped that when his dad was too old and feeble to shovel our driveway, that some young man would care enough to come and do it for him. If we don't do it, who will? If we don't teach our kids, who will visit us when we are old?
If the hands and feet of Jesus don't visit the elderly, who will? Who will hug them? Who will hold their hand? Who will listen to what they have to say? Who will take time out of their busy lives to see someone who is homebound? Who will let them know they are still valuable if we don't?
The hands and feet of Jesus, that's who we are. It's His life we claim to have, and He cares about - people. People. From the smallest embryo to the oldest, feeblest man, life is precious in His eyes. And it should be in ours.
And not just in our minds, but our actions also.
Don't forget the elderly. Life is precious. They are precious. They need to be reminded that God thinks they are valuable, and that we do to.
I am convicted by my own actions, for our actions show what we really think.
"You shall rise up before the grayheaded and honor the aged, and you shall revere your God; I am the LORD." Leviticus 19:32
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Sunday, March 1, 2015
The Sledding Accident that Almost Was
So it almost happened today. That sledding accident that you hope never happens. It almost happened. Almost is enough to make my mom's heart stop, but also make it so grateful.
It snowed most of the day yesterday and then turned to sleet and ice. By this morning our yard was a slick layer of beautiful whiteness. Most of us could crunch right through the layers as walked, but Elijah was not heavy enough to break the ice. He couldn't move without slipping and falling down. It was cute, but I finally took pity on him, and got a sled out and started pulling him around.
The kids discovered that they could sled right through the empty lot behind our house on the ice. There's not much of a slant in the land, so I wasn't worried about them getting hurt. Elijah watched them, thought it looked fun, and decided that he wanted to try. He lay belly down on the sled and Rylie gave him a little push. He took off. I didn't know a sled could go so fast on a non hill. His light weight sent him soaring over the ice. Rylie realized at once that this was not a good thing as Elijah was hurling towards the road. She began running as fast as she could after him. I was far enough behind that I knew unless I suddenly acquired the Flash's powers, I was useless. My heart was racing because I knew he had enough speed that he was going to fly through the ditch, across the road, and over the other side.
Rylie is very quick on her feet and was running hard behind him. I saw her fling her body outstretched as she reached her arms out to grab the sled. It looked like a slow motion moment on a movie as she just missed the sled and laid face down on the snow. (We later learned that she actually tripped on her boot and fell, but it looked very heroic at the time.)
Elijah kept sailing towards the road. I could do nothing but stand there and watch. Right as he reached the road the sled plowed into a pile of hard snow that the snow plow had left. The sled stopped short and his little body flew out onto the pile of hard snow too close to the road. Dan was there in an instant as Elijah lay there crying. He was ok, and I was filled with relief.
Rylie was really shaken up. We were actually on our way to go to a sledding hill. She promptly decided that we should just all go in the house where it is safe and no one would get hurt. I told her that we were going anyway and that it would be fine.
She looked at me and said, "but, Mom, I worry about Elijah and Kade because they don't know Jesus yet, and if something happens to them they won't go to heaven and be with Jesus." Then she turned to her brothers and started witnessing to them as we all sat in the snow in our front yard.. "You need to accept Jesus," she said. "You don't want to die without knowing Him, and we could die anytime. You don't know when you're going to die!" She was urgent as she kept talking, "Jesus is knocking on your heart door and He wants you to let Him in. Don't you want to accept Him? If you do, you will feel all wonderful inside."
She's 9. I was sitting on the snow with my children watching, listening, and feeling guilty. This child was witnessing to her brothers with a sense of urgency of one who had just faced death. She doesn't want any member of her family to die without knowing Jesus, and she's doing her best to make sure they know the way.
Her words resounded in my head, "You don't want to die without Him, and you could die at any time."
I looked around my neighborhood - "You could die at any time and you don't know Him."
I thought of people in my family - "You could die at any time and you don't know Him."
I see the world - "You could die at any time and you don't know Him."
And I grieved.
I grieved because I don't have a true heart for the lost.
Of course, I want them to know Jesus. But I don't even have the urgency of my 9 year old CHILD who will witness time after time to her brothers because she doesn't want them to die lost!
Who will tell my neighbors and my family if I don't? Who will tell them before they die without Him? They could die at any moment. My little son and my daughter reminded me of that today.
I want the heart of Christ, who gave up everything to die for the lost. I don't have it, but I want it.
.
I want the selflessness of Nate Saint and Jim Elliot who had guns, but refused to use them on the Aucas that were spearing them to death because they knew that they were headed to heaven, but that the Aucas, if killed, would go to hell and never have the opportunity to know Jesus. They gave up everything for the sake of the Gospel and a little tribe of Indians who had never heard it.
I want the heart of my daughter who has witnessed more in the last couple of years than I have.
"Then saith he unto his disciples, The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few;
Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth labourers into his harvest."
Matthew 9:37-38
The harvest is HUGE. Christ died for all. The labourers are few.
I want to rise up from my comfortable "glad I'm saved, hope someone's telling you about Jesus, but it's probably not me" spot on my couch and be a labourer.
The labourers are few, but they could be one more.
It snowed most of the day yesterday and then turned to sleet and ice. By this morning our yard was a slick layer of beautiful whiteness. Most of us could crunch right through the layers as walked, but Elijah was not heavy enough to break the ice. He couldn't move without slipping and falling down. It was cute, but I finally took pity on him, and got a sled out and started pulling him around.
The kids discovered that they could sled right through the empty lot behind our house on the ice. There's not much of a slant in the land, so I wasn't worried about them getting hurt. Elijah watched them, thought it looked fun, and decided that he wanted to try. He lay belly down on the sled and Rylie gave him a little push. He took off. I didn't know a sled could go so fast on a non hill. His light weight sent him soaring over the ice. Rylie realized at once that this was not a good thing as Elijah was hurling towards the road. She began running as fast as she could after him. I was far enough behind that I knew unless I suddenly acquired the Flash's powers, I was useless. My heart was racing because I knew he had enough speed that he was going to fly through the ditch, across the road, and over the other side.
Rylie is very quick on her feet and was running hard behind him. I saw her fling her body outstretched as she reached her arms out to grab the sled. It looked like a slow motion moment on a movie as she just missed the sled and laid face down on the snow. (We later learned that she actually tripped on her boot and fell, but it looked very heroic at the time.)
Elijah kept sailing towards the road. I could do nothing but stand there and watch. Right as he reached the road the sled plowed into a pile of hard snow that the snow plow had left. The sled stopped short and his little body flew out onto the pile of hard snow too close to the road. Dan was there in an instant as Elijah lay there crying. He was ok, and I was filled with relief.
Rylie was really shaken up. We were actually on our way to go to a sledding hill. She promptly decided that we should just all go in the house where it is safe and no one would get hurt. I told her that we were going anyway and that it would be fine.
She looked at me and said, "but, Mom, I worry about Elijah and Kade because they don't know Jesus yet, and if something happens to them they won't go to heaven and be with Jesus." Then she turned to her brothers and started witnessing to them as we all sat in the snow in our front yard.. "You need to accept Jesus," she said. "You don't want to die without knowing Him, and we could die anytime. You don't know when you're going to die!" She was urgent as she kept talking, "Jesus is knocking on your heart door and He wants you to let Him in. Don't you want to accept Him? If you do, you will feel all wonderful inside."
She's 9. I was sitting on the snow with my children watching, listening, and feeling guilty. This child was witnessing to her brothers with a sense of urgency of one who had just faced death. She doesn't want any member of her family to die without knowing Jesus, and she's doing her best to make sure they know the way.
Her words resounded in my head, "You don't want to die without Him, and you could die at any time."
I looked around my neighborhood - "You could die at any time and you don't know Him."
I thought of people in my family - "You could die at any time and you don't know Him."
I see the world - "You could die at any time and you don't know Him."
And I grieved.
I grieved because I don't have a true heart for the lost.
Of course, I want them to know Jesus. But I don't even have the urgency of my 9 year old CHILD who will witness time after time to her brothers because she doesn't want them to die lost!
Who will tell my neighbors and my family if I don't? Who will tell them before they die without Him? They could die at any moment. My little son and my daughter reminded me of that today.
I want the heart of Christ, who gave up everything to die for the lost. I don't have it, but I want it.
.
I want the selflessness of Nate Saint and Jim Elliot who had guns, but refused to use them on the Aucas that were spearing them to death because they knew that they were headed to heaven, but that the Aucas, if killed, would go to hell and never have the opportunity to know Jesus. They gave up everything for the sake of the Gospel and a little tribe of Indians who had never heard it.
I want the heart of my daughter who has witnessed more in the last couple of years than I have.
"Then saith he unto his disciples, The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few;
Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth labourers into his harvest."
Matthew 9:37-38
The harvest is HUGE. Christ died for all. The labourers are few.
I want to rise up from my comfortable "glad I'm saved, hope someone's telling you about Jesus, but it's probably not me" spot on my couch and be a labourer.
The labourers are few, but they could be one more.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
How to Grab a Teachable Moment with a Tough Child
Children give us so many opportunities to teach, but so often we fall into the trap of reacting rather than raising.
I have a particular child that is a little harder to raise than the others. I love him more than I can say, but some days the raising is tough. He loves to challenge, argue, and push the limits. Frequently. He can get a rise out of me quicker than I can blink my eyes. The parent I thought I would be before I had kids is not always the parent that I am in reality.
We went through a really challenging spell here a few weeks ago. It seemed that emotions were rampant and anger was contagious.
He would get angry at the drop of the hat - at me, his siblings, the world..... And I would react, "Don't be so angry!" I would say angrily. And then my heart would sink. How can I help my child overcome anger if I get angry at him when he gets angry? That's a lot of angry right there, but that's where we found ourselves.
At one point we (his parents) were feeling desperate about what to do. He felt like we were always on his case, and we were getting exhausted trying to figure out how to help him without always being on his case. It was night and we were sitting on the couch. We just had yet another confrontation, and my emotions were a mixture of desperation, exhaustion, and love. I looked at him and said firmly, "You need to just stop getting mad." He sat there for a moment and then looked up at me in tears and said, "I can't, I've tried to stop getting angry, and I. just. can't."
And there I had it - a teachable moment staring me in my face. A choice to raise instead of react.
Humanity's response would be to say, "Choose to stop and figure it out," or "Stop making excuses!" or "Just go to bed!"
But what is it I work day in and day out to teach my kids? That they NEED a Savior. That they have a desperate need for God. And here it was, staring me in my face.
By God's grace I was calmer than I had been all evening. Everyone got quiet and I looked at him and I agreed with him as I said, "You're right, you can't stop, but that's why we need God. Where you are right now, is exactly where He wants you to be. He wants you to know that you can't so that He can. He can help you. And He so desperately wants you to ask Him.
Pointing our children to God, that's what it's all about. Dan and I couldn't figure out the answers, that's for sure. We need the same God that our child needs to live this life. And He's there, He's living, and He wants us as badly as we need Him.
My child went to bed that night and asked a living God to help him control his temper. And I felt relief. I had help. Not another parenting book, not an article on the internet, but the knowledge that the Creator of my child would help my child because he asked Him.
We took it to the Word. You know the One that is living, breathing, and changes lives? I did a word study with him on what the Proverbs say about anger. My son is not the only one that started changing.
You know that Word of God that's been there for so many years and came from the mouth of God? It's still alive. It's still working. Still changing people. It's changing me. I've become less angry. Less reactionary. More patient.
Perfect? Never. Becoming more like Christ? Yes.
And my hard to raise child? God's working in him too. I've seen him be able to overcome a blowup, where a few weeks ago he couldn't. Perfect? No. Changing and growing? Yes.
Find the teachable moments with your kids. Don't let frustration and weariness keep you from seeing an opportunity to share Jesus. It's so worth it.
And I'm praising God.
For without Him, I can't.
I have a particular child that is a little harder to raise than the others. I love him more than I can say, but some days the raising is tough. He loves to challenge, argue, and push the limits. Frequently. He can get a rise out of me quicker than I can blink my eyes. The parent I thought I would be before I had kids is not always the parent that I am in reality.
We went through a really challenging spell here a few weeks ago. It seemed that emotions were rampant and anger was contagious.
He would get angry at the drop of the hat - at me, his siblings, the world..... And I would react, "Don't be so angry!" I would say angrily. And then my heart would sink. How can I help my child overcome anger if I get angry at him when he gets angry? That's a lot of angry right there, but that's where we found ourselves.
At one point we (his parents) were feeling desperate about what to do. He felt like we were always on his case, and we were getting exhausted trying to figure out how to help him without always being on his case. It was night and we were sitting on the couch. We just had yet another confrontation, and my emotions were a mixture of desperation, exhaustion, and love. I looked at him and said firmly, "You need to just stop getting mad." He sat there for a moment and then looked up at me in tears and said, "I can't, I've tried to stop getting angry, and I. just. can't."
And there I had it - a teachable moment staring me in my face. A choice to raise instead of react.
Humanity's response would be to say, "Choose to stop and figure it out," or "Stop making excuses!" or "Just go to bed!"
But what is it I work day in and day out to teach my kids? That they NEED a Savior. That they have a desperate need for God. And here it was, staring me in my face.
By God's grace I was calmer than I had been all evening. Everyone got quiet and I looked at him and I agreed with him as I said, "You're right, you can't stop, but that's why we need God. Where you are right now, is exactly where He wants you to be. He wants you to know that you can't so that He can. He can help you. And He so desperately wants you to ask Him.
Pointing our children to God, that's what it's all about. Dan and I couldn't figure out the answers, that's for sure. We need the same God that our child needs to live this life. And He's there, He's living, and He wants us as badly as we need Him.
My child went to bed that night and asked a living God to help him control his temper. And I felt relief. I had help. Not another parenting book, not an article on the internet, but the knowledge that the Creator of my child would help my child because he asked Him.
We took it to the Word. You know the One that is living, breathing, and changes lives? I did a word study with him on what the Proverbs say about anger. My son is not the only one that started changing.
You know that Word of God that's been there for so many years and came from the mouth of God? It's still alive. It's still working. Still changing people. It's changing me. I've become less angry. Less reactionary. More patient.
Perfect? Never. Becoming more like Christ? Yes.
And my hard to raise child? God's working in him too. I've seen him be able to overcome a blowup, where a few weeks ago he couldn't. Perfect? No. Changing and growing? Yes.
Find the teachable moments with your kids. Don't let frustration and weariness keep you from seeing an opportunity to share Jesus. It's so worth it.
And I'm praising God.
For without Him, I can't.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Are They Your Chidren?
We were shopping today at a store our family likes to frequent whenever we visit Springfield. I won't tell you which one, because I'm sure they will remember us for a long time, and I wouldn't want you to mention our names there. They may hire a lookout and put up a "closed" sign when they see us coming. I'm not sure, but it's possible.
This particular store has the option of a ramp or stairs to get to the lower level. Much to Dan's dismay, our kids love the ramp and could spend the whole shopping experience running up and down it at high speeds. This bothers Dan immensely; which I don't really understand. I find it peaceful to shop by myself all the while being able to hear my children's racing games and see their heads bobbing up and down the ramp. (Especially because there is a bit of a distance between me and them, and no one knows they're mine.....) (Please don't think ill of me...) Dan is a bit more concerned with the behavior of our children in stores, and the peace of the other customers than I am. Oh, and the sanity of the workers....
I had left the children in Dan's care while I went to try on a few items that I didn't need. The dressing rooms are located right by the stairs to the lower level, but far away from the ramp. As I was peacefully trying on clothes I heard this noise - clunk, clatter, clunk, rattle, clatter, clatter, clank. "That sounds like a shopping cart is being pushed down the stairs!" I thought incredulously to myself. "I can't believe someone would do that! I'm sure glad it's not my kids, they would never think to do that!"
About that same moment, I heard Dan's not so happy (but not so loud) voice, "Zackary!!" he said in a controlled low voice, "You don't push shopping carts down the stairs!" (As if one should NEED to say that to one's child!) In a bit of a shocked state I decided that I was in the safest place in the store at the moment, and that I would just stay in the dressing room for a little while longer. I figured Dan had it under control, and there was no need for me to try to help out. Plus, truth be told, I wanted the store to clear out before anyone knew that I was the mom......
The shopping cart survived, as did Zackary. There will be no more races on the ramp, and I didn't buy any of the clothing that I spent an abundance of time trying on. Mostly because the sizes are mismarked.....
The clerks smiled at us as we left the store, and I'm pretty sure it was because they were just happy to see us go.
We may, or may not, return. Ever.
This particular store has the option of a ramp or stairs to get to the lower level. Much to Dan's dismay, our kids love the ramp and could spend the whole shopping experience running up and down it at high speeds. This bothers Dan immensely; which I don't really understand. I find it peaceful to shop by myself all the while being able to hear my children's racing games and see their heads bobbing up and down the ramp. (Especially because there is a bit of a distance between me and them, and no one knows they're mine.....) (Please don't think ill of me...) Dan is a bit more concerned with the behavior of our children in stores, and the peace of the other customers than I am. Oh, and the sanity of the workers....
I had left the children in Dan's care while I went to try on a few items that I didn't need. The dressing rooms are located right by the stairs to the lower level, but far away from the ramp. As I was peacefully trying on clothes I heard this noise - clunk, clatter, clunk, rattle, clatter, clatter, clank. "That sounds like a shopping cart is being pushed down the stairs!" I thought incredulously to myself. "I can't believe someone would do that! I'm sure glad it's not my kids, they would never think to do that!"
About that same moment, I heard Dan's not so happy (but not so loud) voice, "Zackary!!" he said in a controlled low voice, "You don't push shopping carts down the stairs!" (As if one should NEED to say that to one's child!) In a bit of a shocked state I decided that I was in the safest place in the store at the moment, and that I would just stay in the dressing room for a little while longer. I figured Dan had it under control, and there was no need for me to try to help out. Plus, truth be told, I wanted the store to clear out before anyone knew that I was the mom......
The shopping cart survived, as did Zackary. There will be no more races on the ramp, and I didn't buy any of the clothing that I spent an abundance of time trying on. Mostly because the sizes are mismarked.....
The clerks smiled at us as we left the store, and I'm pretty sure it was because they were just happy to see us go.
We may, or may not, return. Ever.
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Laugh With Those That Laugh
It finally hit us. Like a bomb. A really messy icky bomb.
It's the stomach flu. First real sickness of the winter. And it's a doozy.
It always starts in the middle of the night. "Moooooaaahghhhmmm," was yelled frantically from the bedroom the other night. I sighed a deep breath and thought why don't they call, "Daaaaaaagghhhhddd." Dan looked up at me from what he was doing and said, "Someone needs you." I'm on way," I said reluctantly. Gratefully Zack had his wits about him enough to hit the bucket. "That was a bad one, Mom," he said. "They always are," I replied.
I yelled, "Daaaaagghhhhn" just to make sure he knew I really did need him. "You take the bucket, and I'll clean up the kid," I said. He's a good dad, and took the bucket down the hall to get ready for round 2. There was a stirring in the other bunk bed; Kade started rolling around and moaning. "Zack, why did you make me sick?!" he asked emphatically. He half sat up; I got worried. "Are you going to be sick too?" I asked. Kade replied, "Zack made me sick!" Then he puked in the newly cleaned out bucket. "Daaaggghhhhnn," I called again, just so he would know I was serious. "You clean out the bucket, I'll take care of kid #2" "You're kidding me." he said.
Now with Kade, you never know if he's really sick or not. He abides by the words, "laugh with those that laugh, weep with those that weep, and puke with those that puke." His stomach is about as weak as they come. And it's not just puke, it's anything that might be considered gross. Once he had the pleasure of stepping in kitty poopy in the garage. As it squished between his toes, he began dry heaving so much he couldn't even call me. I went out there to find him like a statue - that was dry heaving. He couldn't move, he couldn't call, and he was about to puke. "Why isn't Dan home for these kinds of events," I thought to myself as I scooped him up and hauled his stinky feet to the bathroom. I cleaned up between his toes very carefully, sent him on his way, and went to clean the garage. I thought we were through, but, oh no, I found him intermittently sniffing his feet for the next half hour in search of "leftover odors." And WHY would one do that???
I ended up spending that whole night changing buckets and comforting both boys. (Turns out it wasn't Zack that made Kade sick, he was just plain sick.) The next day I washed everything that could be put in the washer and sprayed Lysol on everything that couldn't. I was determined that TWO would be the end of it.
Last night I made mushroom cheeseburgers and Rotel. It was yummy. As I enjoyed my dinner, I briefly hoped that I would not see it again.
Then it started - Rylie, then Elijah, and "Ummm, I'm not feeling so good," I said. Dan looked at me with a look that said you better not be getting sick. "Don't worry," I said as I crashed on the couch, "the vomiting only lasts about four hours. You'll be okay."
We won't be having mushroom cheeseburgers again for a really, really long time......
It's the stomach flu. First real sickness of the winter. And it's a doozy.
It always starts in the middle of the night. "Moooooaaahghhhmmm," was yelled frantically from the bedroom the other night. I sighed a deep breath and thought why don't they call, "Daaaaaaagghhhhddd." Dan looked up at me from what he was doing and said, "Someone needs you." I'm on way," I said reluctantly. Gratefully Zack had his wits about him enough to hit the bucket. "That was a bad one, Mom," he said. "They always are," I replied.
I yelled, "Daaaaagghhhhn" just to make sure he knew I really did need him. "You take the bucket, and I'll clean up the kid," I said. He's a good dad, and took the bucket down the hall to get ready for round 2. There was a stirring in the other bunk bed; Kade started rolling around and moaning. "Zack, why did you make me sick?!" he asked emphatically. He half sat up; I got worried. "Are you going to be sick too?" I asked. Kade replied, "Zack made me sick!" Then he puked in the newly cleaned out bucket. "Daaaggghhhhnn," I called again, just so he would know I was serious. "You clean out the bucket, I'll take care of kid #2" "You're kidding me." he said.
Now with Kade, you never know if he's really sick or not. He abides by the words, "laugh with those that laugh, weep with those that weep, and puke with those that puke." His stomach is about as weak as they come. And it's not just puke, it's anything that might be considered gross. Once he had the pleasure of stepping in kitty poopy in the garage. As it squished between his toes, he began dry heaving so much he couldn't even call me. I went out there to find him like a statue - that was dry heaving. He couldn't move, he couldn't call, and he was about to puke. "Why isn't Dan home for these kinds of events," I thought to myself as I scooped him up and hauled his stinky feet to the bathroom. I cleaned up between his toes very carefully, sent him on his way, and went to clean the garage. I thought we were through, but, oh no, I found him intermittently sniffing his feet for the next half hour in search of "leftover odors." And WHY would one do that???
I ended up spending that whole night changing buckets and comforting both boys. (Turns out it wasn't Zack that made Kade sick, he was just plain sick.) The next day I washed everything that could be put in the washer and sprayed Lysol on everything that couldn't. I was determined that TWO would be the end of it.
Last night I made mushroom cheeseburgers and Rotel. It was yummy. As I enjoyed my dinner, I briefly hoped that I would not see it again.
Then it started - Rylie, then Elijah, and "Ummm, I'm not feeling so good," I said. Dan looked at me with a look that said you better not be getting sick. "Don't worry," I said as I crashed on the couch, "the vomiting only lasts about four hours. You'll be okay."
We won't be having mushroom cheeseburgers again for a really, really long time......
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Where are the Falls Anyway???
You don't get 60 degree days in January very often, so it's always good to take advantage of it. Dan said we should go hiking.
I agreed.
I suggested we hike the Twin Falls Trail. It sounded good at the time. Hike down a trail along a beautiful rushing creek to two waterfalls at the end. Sunshine, 60 degree weather. Sounded really good.
"You know it takes 2 hours to drive there and the trail is 5.5 miles long?" Dan asked me. "Oh," I replied. It seemed like the best answer at the moment. I didn't want a few minor details to get in the way of our nice day out. Cabin fever and the winter blues had set in at our house, and I was ready to get outside. "Our kids are 11, 9, 6, and 2," he continued, (as if I don't know how old our children are!) "that's kind of a long walk for them." "Oh," I said again.
"What time are we leaving?" I asked him. "I guess at 8:00," said the guy who likes to humor me.
I made sandwiches and packed snacks while Dan filled the camel backs and loaded the car. It was a beautiful winter morning, and the drive was full of great sights. It was peaceful also - we actually let the kids watch the tv in the van this time. Every once in a while Dan would say, "Look at that view, kids!" To which the kids would give varying degrees of answers ranging from, "cool" to "awesome," to "wow." I don't think they looked outside once, but they've learned they better give a good answer or dad makes them turn off the movie. They're really good at staying perfectly engrossed in their show while giving an extremely accurate response to any of Dan's suggested views. In fact, I was pretty impressed with the fact that Rylie had convinced me that she had also seen the elk along side the road, when in all actuality she had seen nothing but cartoons. I know this because today I asked her to tell someone about the elk we saw, and she replied with, "What elk?"
We finally made it to the trailhead and got loaded up. When you hike with six people, and four are small, most of the "loading up" means mom and dad were donning heavy backpacks. I carefully weighed my options and chose the lighter of the two backpacks. In my defense, I do have the smaller back.
The kids each donned their camel backs and we set off. We walked at least 100 feet before we hit our first obstacle - the river. At this point I reminded myself that this trail was my idea, and that I don't really mind river crossings in January.....
After our second unseasonably (or maybe seasonably) cold river crossing, Dan informed us that I had led everyone astray and we were no longer on the trail. After being married to me for over 12 years, he should know better than to follow me in the woods!
We decided that since we were already on the wrong side of the river (and no one could feel their feet yet anyway) that we would just hike the river bank, and hopefully figure out what to do later. Again, a great idea with small children.
We begin our trek over boulders and through underbrush. We had hiked maybe another 100 feet when we came upon a hiker headed the opposite direction as us, but on the same (wrong) side of the river. He was wearing blue jeans, had a HUGE overnight backpack on his back and a smaller backpack that he was wearing on his front. (Maybe a front pack?) He looked exhausted. Knowing we were only 200 feet into a 5.5 mile trail, I lightheartedly asked him in a teasing voice, "Are we almost there?" He looked at me and said, "Arghhhhuuggghh," and then let out a little maniacal laugh. At this point I became nervous, and again second guessed my decisions of coming on this hike and taking the non trail. He never answered my question, but said, "I just came over that mountain, am I almost there?" I cautiously asked, "Where are you headed?" "The car," came his firm reply. Dan caught up to us at this point, took one look at the hiker and said, "Did you murder someone and take their pack?" I about blew a gasket! You don't ask a maniacal hiker in the middle of the woods if he's a murderer!! He might murder you! I hurriedly collected the children and headed on down the river bank leaving Dan to deal with the murdering, maniacal hiker.....
After another couple of hours of rough hiking, multiple river crossings, scratches, bumps, and lots of tears we decided we should give up our quest to find the falls and just find the car. I had come through some underbrush which had pulled my hair in all different directions, and we all had stumbled back across the river in an attempt to find the trail. We thought that hiking on the real trail would be an easier event for the trek out. We were wet, tired, and scratched up. Rylie looked at me said, "Wow, Mom, you look like you've been hiking for days!" "I have," came my maniacal reply.
We did eventually find the trail and headed back. About halfway to the car we met a group of fresh hikers who had just begun their trek to the falls. "Are we almost there?" they asked us jokingly as they skipped lightly down the trail. With a crazed look in our eye we all replied, "Arghhhhuggghhh."
I agreed.
I suggested we hike the Twin Falls Trail. It sounded good at the time. Hike down a trail along a beautiful rushing creek to two waterfalls at the end. Sunshine, 60 degree weather. Sounded really good.
"You know it takes 2 hours to drive there and the trail is 5.5 miles long?" Dan asked me. "Oh," I replied. It seemed like the best answer at the moment. I didn't want a few minor details to get in the way of our nice day out. Cabin fever and the winter blues had set in at our house, and I was ready to get outside. "Our kids are 11, 9, 6, and 2," he continued, (as if I don't know how old our children are!) "that's kind of a long walk for them." "Oh," I said again.
"What time are we leaving?" I asked him. "I guess at 8:00," said the guy who likes to humor me.
I made sandwiches and packed snacks while Dan filled the camel backs and loaded the car. It was a beautiful winter morning, and the drive was full of great sights. It was peaceful also - we actually let the kids watch the tv in the van this time. Every once in a while Dan would say, "Look at that view, kids!" To which the kids would give varying degrees of answers ranging from, "cool" to "awesome," to "wow." I don't think they looked outside once, but they've learned they better give a good answer or dad makes them turn off the movie. They're really good at staying perfectly engrossed in their show while giving an extremely accurate response to any of Dan's suggested views. In fact, I was pretty impressed with the fact that Rylie had convinced me that she had also seen the elk along side the road, when in all actuality she had seen nothing but cartoons. I know this because today I asked her to tell someone about the elk we saw, and she replied with, "What elk?"
We finally made it to the trailhead and got loaded up. When you hike with six people, and four are small, most of the "loading up" means mom and dad were donning heavy backpacks. I carefully weighed my options and chose the lighter of the two backpacks. In my defense, I do have the smaller back.
The kids each donned their camel backs and we set off. We walked at least 100 feet before we hit our first obstacle - the river. At this point I reminded myself that this trail was my idea, and that I don't really mind river crossings in January.....
After our second unseasonably (or maybe seasonably) cold river crossing, Dan informed us that I had led everyone astray and we were no longer on the trail. After being married to me for over 12 years, he should know better than to follow me in the woods!
We decided that since we were already on the wrong side of the river (and no one could feel their feet yet anyway) that we would just hike the river bank, and hopefully figure out what to do later. Again, a great idea with small children.
We begin our trek over boulders and through underbrush. We had hiked maybe another 100 feet when we came upon a hiker headed the opposite direction as us, but on the same (wrong) side of the river. He was wearing blue jeans, had a HUGE overnight backpack on his back and a smaller backpack that he was wearing on his front. (Maybe a front pack?) He looked exhausted. Knowing we were only 200 feet into a 5.5 mile trail, I lightheartedly asked him in a teasing voice, "Are we almost there?" He looked at me and said, "Arghhhhuuggghh," and then let out a little maniacal laugh. At this point I became nervous, and again second guessed my decisions of coming on this hike and taking the non trail. He never answered my question, but said, "I just came over that mountain, am I almost there?" I cautiously asked, "Where are you headed?" "The car," came his firm reply. Dan caught up to us at this point, took one look at the hiker and said, "Did you murder someone and take their pack?" I about blew a gasket! You don't ask a maniacal hiker in the middle of the woods if he's a murderer!! He might murder you! I hurriedly collected the children and headed on down the river bank leaving Dan to deal with the murdering, maniacal hiker.....
After another couple of hours of rough hiking, multiple river crossings, scratches, bumps, and lots of tears we decided we should give up our quest to find the falls and just find the car. I had come through some underbrush which had pulled my hair in all different directions, and we all had stumbled back across the river in an attempt to find the trail. We thought that hiking on the real trail would be an easier event for the trek out. We were wet, tired, and scratched up. Rylie looked at me said, "Wow, Mom, you look like you've been hiking for days!" "I have," came my maniacal reply.
We did eventually find the trail and headed back. About halfway to the car we met a group of fresh hikers who had just begun their trek to the falls. "Are we almost there?" they asked us jokingly as they skipped lightly down the trail. With a crazed look in our eye we all replied, "Arghhhhuggghhh."
Saturday, January 10, 2015
How Jake and Neverland Pirates changed me.
She came in off the street into the Christmas store in Galloway, TN .She was a grandma, but looked much too young to be a grandma." I'm looking for something for my grandkids," she said. She had done various things throughout the year - come to Bible study, do clean up projects, help the mission center - to save "points" which she could now redeem for Christmas presents. Mrs. Karen came right up to her with a big hug and kiss on the cheek. "I love you," she says to the woman. The woman knows this. She knows no matter what that she is loved here. "Merry Christmas," she replies.
I end up being her shopping buddy, helping her pick out things and keeping track of the points she is spending. She's quiet and shy and doesn't reply much to my attempts at conversation. After perusing the tables for a bit, she suddenly looks up at me and asks, "You don't happen to have anything Jake and the Neverland Pirates do you? My grandson loves Jake and the Neverland Pirates." I start to look around. Surely God would have a Jake and the Neverland Pirate's item here among the many donations that have come in. Surely. Not seeing what I was looking for, I call Rylie and send her to the back store room. "Go see if we have something Jake and the Neverland Pirates back there," I say to her, desperately hoping there will be. Not really sure why it's such a big deal to me that there is a particular toy back there, but it is.
I don't really trust Rylie's looking skills, she can't find her shoes on her feet sometimes. But I wait with the young grandma. And hope. Suddenly Rylie bursts through the door with a box in her hand. "Look what I found, Mama!" she says.
And there it is - a Jake and the Neverland Pirate's play set, complete with a treasure box and a spyglass!
I breathe a sigh of relief and wonder why I doubt my Heavenly Father.
I turn and hand it to the woman. "Will this work?" I ask. She reaches her hand out, looks at it, and tears start rolling down her cheeks. She's crying. Over Jake and the Neverland Pirates. That's a first for me.
This woman who has hardly spoken two quiet words to me looks up at me through her tears and says, "I never dreamed I would be able to afford something this nice for my grandson that he would love so much."
"This nice???" I think to myself. "This is not a PlayStation, an Ipad, or even a bike!" It's a $15 play set! But it's the right play set. It's exactly what she was looking for. It's Christmas for her grandson. and may very well be the only present he is getting.
I can't stop it. Tears start rolling down my cheeks also. I've never cried over Jake and the Neverland Pirate's before, but I am now.
Two women, two different colors of skin, two very different lives, crying together because Christmas just happened - for both of us.
And then I remember, the same God who gave the most perfect gift on that first Christmas is still giving perfect gifts today.
That person in some church somewhere who bought that Jake and the Neverland Pirate's set to send to Galloway didn't know that it was for a certain person, but God knew. He had it all planned it out, and He looked at me and said, "Watch this." "Watch Me care for the least of these." And then He gently reminded me, "Now go and care for them too."
As the woman prepared to leave, Mrs. Karen came up to her again with another hug, and said, "Tell your grandson it's from His Heavenly Father." "I will." The woman quietly replied.
I watched her walk out, tears still in my eyes. Suddenly I couldn't wait! I couldn't wait for the next person to come in, to see what God had for them. To see what God had for me.
The Bible says, "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights...." James 1:17
Even Christmas gifts.
My friend, don't ever think that your donation to God's work, no matter how small, is not important. God's plans are so much bigger than ours, and even the smallest things given in the name of Jesus mean so much to someone else.
I end up being her shopping buddy, helping her pick out things and keeping track of the points she is spending. She's quiet and shy and doesn't reply much to my attempts at conversation. After perusing the tables for a bit, she suddenly looks up at me and asks, "You don't happen to have anything Jake and the Neverland Pirates do you? My grandson loves Jake and the Neverland Pirates." I start to look around. Surely God would have a Jake and the Neverland Pirate's item here among the many donations that have come in. Surely. Not seeing what I was looking for, I call Rylie and send her to the back store room. "Go see if we have something Jake and the Neverland Pirates back there," I say to her, desperately hoping there will be. Not really sure why it's such a big deal to me that there is a particular toy back there, but it is.
I don't really trust Rylie's looking skills, she can't find her shoes on her feet sometimes. But I wait with the young grandma. And hope. Suddenly Rylie bursts through the door with a box in her hand. "Look what I found, Mama!" she says.
And there it is - a Jake and the Neverland Pirate's play set, complete with a treasure box and a spyglass!
I breathe a sigh of relief and wonder why I doubt my Heavenly Father.
I turn and hand it to the woman. "Will this work?" I ask. She reaches her hand out, looks at it, and tears start rolling down her cheeks. She's crying. Over Jake and the Neverland Pirates. That's a first for me.
This woman who has hardly spoken two quiet words to me looks up at me through her tears and says, "I never dreamed I would be able to afford something this nice for my grandson that he would love so much."
"This nice???" I think to myself. "This is not a PlayStation, an Ipad, or even a bike!" It's a $15 play set! But it's the right play set. It's exactly what she was looking for. It's Christmas for her grandson. and may very well be the only present he is getting.
I can't stop it. Tears start rolling down my cheeks also. I've never cried over Jake and the Neverland Pirate's before, but I am now.
Two women, two different colors of skin, two very different lives, crying together because Christmas just happened - for both of us.
And then I remember, the same God who gave the most perfect gift on that first Christmas is still giving perfect gifts today.
That person in some church somewhere who bought that Jake and the Neverland Pirate's set to send to Galloway didn't know that it was for a certain person, but God knew. He had it all planned it out, and He looked at me and said, "Watch this." "Watch Me care for the least of these." And then He gently reminded me, "Now go and care for them too."
As the woman prepared to leave, Mrs. Karen came up to her again with another hug, and said, "Tell your grandson it's from His Heavenly Father." "I will." The woman quietly replied.
I watched her walk out, tears still in my eyes. Suddenly I couldn't wait! I couldn't wait for the next person to come in, to see what God had for them. To see what God had for me.
The Bible says, "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights...." James 1:17
Even Christmas gifts.
My friend, don't ever think that your donation to God's work, no matter how small, is not important. God's plans are so much bigger than ours, and even the smallest things given in the name of Jesus mean so much to someone else.
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