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......

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."

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.

The Old Man and the Red Kettle

The old man sat behind the hanging red pot, ringing the same old bell. The same bell that has been rung for over 120 years, collecting money for people in need in our communities. He looked our way as we headed his direction. I had rummaged through my change purse in the car a few minutes prior to find enough coins so that all four of my kids would have something to put in the kettle. They dutifully took turns happily pushing the money through the small slot. The old man looked up at me, and said, "Thanks for teaching them to give." And we walked into Walgreens.

That was it. But truth be told, I haven't been able to get what he said out of my mind since that day almost two weeks ago. "Thanks for teaching them to give," he had said. I hadn't thought of that. I wasn't trying to teach them anything. It was just a little bit of change after all.  I gave them the coins to put into the kettle because I grew up putting coins that my mom gave me into the kettle.

And then it hit me - EVERYTHING we do with our kids IS something we're teaching them.

I try so hard to just be an average mom - keeping my kids busy in baseball, basketball, art, music, dance, playdates. Because that's what every "good" mom does, right? We're just trying to do what we're supposed to do. Give the kids opportunities, keep them busy, not feel guilty because "Sue" down the road let's her kids do more activities than I let mine do. Trying not to hold them back "just in case" they might be a prodigy in something!

But am I missing it? We're teaching, every day, every minute. What are we teaching them?

The old man reminded me that it's time to slow down. To slow down and teach on purpose the important things in life. It's time to STOP being  "average mom" and be "on purpose" mom. Time to stop overfilling our time so much with things that won't matter in ten years, and filling it with things that will. Things that make children into great adults. Things that build great habits.

We put money into the kettles we pass because my parents taught me by putting coins in my hand as a child that that's what we do. It's a habit they instilled in us. I have to sneak past a kettle now if I don't have money to put into it because I feel guilty!

Small things, on purpose.

All of the sudden I'm glad my living room is a mess. It's a mess because we're filling Operation Christmas Child shoe boxes with the things we've collected all year long. We have everything spread out all over the floor. The fact is,  I would be embarrassed if someone stopped by. But we're building "habits:"

I'm also glad for the glue that is permanently embedded in my nice black shirt. I still wear the shirt, and every time I do, I remember the parachutes that we put together to send radios into countries that are closed to the Gospel. It's a reminder to pray for those people. And we're building "habits."

I choose to be glad when money is tight, and it's time to send our sponsorship funds to a tiny girl in Indonesia. I'm glad because it's teaching my kids that there is so much more to the world than their world. It's teaching them to be compassionate, to care for others, to give.... To build "habits."

Every day, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, on purpose finding purpose in the every day. Giving our kids purpose, Teaching them to give, to care, to be compassionate, to notice the world around them. And may it become a habit!

May we not be so busy keeping our kids busy that we don't take the time to teach them the small important things that someday will grow into beautiful.

This Christmas I'm thankful to the old man that sits behind the red kettle at Walgreens for reminding me to slow down and teach my children to give.

Oh Church, Arise!

I love the Church in America. I'm not talking in particular about "my church" or "your church," but the Body of Christ as a whole. I love the idea of the family of God, of fellowship, of learning, worshipping, growing, you know - the Church - here, as we know it.

Sometimes I wonder, though, why certain things go on in the church. I wonder why there's so much time spent in "discussions."

 I understand that people are different, and that our understanding of Scripture can be different, but WHY do we waste time trying to convince someone else of our beliefs about the Bible when the world is LOST?

I think we've forgotten who we are and what the Church is supposed to be about.

You know the "discussions" I'm talking about. There's the pre-destined or not discussion, the post-tribulation or pre-tribulation discussion, the once saved always saved or lose your salvation discussion, the what to wear, what to listen to, and where not to go discussion, the follow the law or live under grace discussion.

I'm not implying that it's terrible to talk about these things and express opinions, but doing it in the name of God, and then splitting churches over it is a problem. And it happens all the time - friendships lost, pastors fired, churches split, Christians walking away from God out of frustration all because of disagreements about what the Bible "really" says.

And the widows are lonely, the orphans are fatherless, the poor are starving , and the world is dying lost.

Dying, lost.

I don't have a doctorate in theology, but I have been a Christian a long time, and the more I read the Scriptures, the more I realize I could defend most of the major disagreements Christians have from both sides.

To me, that means that those things aren't the most important things in the Bible.

What is then? 

May I be so bold as to suggest it's The Gospel. The pure, unadulterated Gospel of Jesus Christ.

That's what we're to be about, Church. We're to be about the Gospel. The beautiful Gospel of redemption  And we need to stop wasting time on the things that don't. really. matter.

Let's spend our time instead telling the world that there is hope, that Jesus Christ came to save them. That someone does care. Let's let the orphans know by our actions that someone is there for them, the widows that someone remembers them, the poor that they are not alone, and the lost that there is salvation!

Let's put it into action, Church! The whole Bible breathes the Gospel of Jesus, and He is longing for us to share it. To DO it. James 1:22 says, "But be ye doers of the Word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves." If we're just hearers (discussers) and not doers, we're going to be deceived. We're going to lose sight of what we're about and then Satan wins. He wins because we end up not. doing. anything.

Preach the gospel. If you're not a bold, John the Baptist type witnesser, that's okay. Find someone who is and help them. If you're not a ministry starter, that's okay. Find someone who already has started one and so desperately needs help and help them. If you don't think you are called to adopt, that's okay. Give someone who is called the support they need to do it. Visit a widow, pass out a tract, encourage your pastor, support a missionary, talk to your neighbor, donate food to the hungry, pray for the persecuted church, help the helpless.

Live the Gospel, Church.

We want to see a revival in this land?

The spreading of the Gospel is the revival. Let us not just pray for the revival, let us be the revival.

What Oxen and Kids Have in Common

Proverbs 14:4 says, "Where no oxen are, the crib is clean: but much increase is by the strength of the ox."

I never would have thought that this particular verse would stand out to me so much. I don't have oxen and I don't have a crib. Truth be told, I don't want either.

But I love this verse. I love it because every time I read it, this is what I hear:

"Where no children are the house is clean, but much joy is by the increase of children."

I have children, and I have a house.

My house is a mess, mess, mess. I always thought I would be one of those immaculate house keepers. You know, in my mind. When I was younger. Much younger. Before kids.

And my house was clean before kids. I still even did a great job with just one kid. But with each additional child those ideals ran right out of my head, and my house. Most days I feel like I'm fighting to just get the basics done.

But, oh, the joy! I never thought I could be so happy. Beautiful little people running around, making all kinds of messes. Not cleaning them up.

Then I have choices. After schooling my children all morning, I have so much to do, yet my heart yearns to play with my kids, to read to them, to cook with them, to put on the music and dance with them.

And the house is a mess. And I'm stressed. And I'm trying to be THAT person in my mind so long ago.

I think, "What kind of person do I really want to be? What do I want my kids to remember about their childhood?  A crazy neurotic woman running around insisting everything be spotless, or a crazy fun mom that kept everything somewhat neat and had time to be with them."

One of these days they won't be here anymore.

The house will be clean.

But, the joy will be gone. The silliness, the laughter, the childlike faith, gone. And somehow, I don't think the spotless house will mean so much then.

I'm trying to enjoy every moment in the now. Every moment. Even the messy, not so great moments.

Like Elijah's moment the other day.

We were at church, (of course) and he came walking down the hall playing with a little brown ball. He was rolling it around in his hands, when it dawned on me he didn't come from home with a little ball. "Elijah, what is that?" I asked. "Poop," was his quick, matter of fact reply. It was one of those moments I wanted to go crazy. Thoughts spinning around in my head, "Why at church? Where did he get it? Who's poop is it? Do I really want to know???!! WHERE IS THE HAND SANITIZER??!! I stayed calm and asked, "Where did it come from?" (I figured it was better to know up front.) "Out of my pants," he answered in a sweet voice, obviously not bothered at all by the fact that he was playing with a poop ball. (Did I just say poop ball??) "Elijah! Where do we poop?" I asked emphatically. "In the potty," he replied.  After all that's where he was headed with the ball in tow.....

Moments. Moments that make us laugh later. Memories. Memories that are cherished, but so easily forgotten. Children, the greatest gift God gives us as parents.

And I paraphrase,

"Where no children are the house is clean, but MUCH joy is by the increase of children." Proverbs 14:4

Enjoy every moment, and don't sweat the small stuff.

Hiding

My husband just tried to come into the bedroom to say hi to me after a long day. The door was locked, and I informed him I would not be coming out until the children were in bed. He asked if I didn't want to see him. I calmly told him it had nothing to do with him, and when the children were asleep I would come out of hiding.

Hiding. It seems like the most logical thing to do at the moment.

It's been one of those days...

You know those days....

At least I hope you do; I hope I'm not the only one.

So many crazy things going on at the same time in your life, and yet you look around and you still have little faces looking up at you. Little faces that have nothing to do when any of the craziness, yet there they are in the middle of it. And you're trying to keep sane.

Then it happens. In the midst of all the outside things going on in your life, one of those sweet faces informs you he is not doing his school work today. In fact he's going to do nothing, he tells you.

It happened today. I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. "Do nothing? You're not serious?" I said. I came back in 15 minutes to find that he was. There he was on the couch. Still doing nothing.

"All day, you're going to do nothing?" I asked. "Yes," he replied.

A little part of me wanted to freak out. (Maybe it was a big part of me....I'm not sure.) Not so much because of the sweet face (that didn't look so sweet at the moment) looking up at me, but because of everything else. You know the stuff we moms carry around in our brains that have nothing to do with the situation at hand.

I wanted to make a scene. I wanted to jump up and down and yell, "How am I supposed to get everything done that I need to get done if you won't do anything!!"

God's grace prevailed. I calmly said,  (without jumping) "You are right. You will not be doing anything today, anything that you WANT to do, that is. You will be doing your school, with some chores thrown in." 

He told me I was a very mean mom. I wanted to be.

It wasn't the end of it. It was a long battle today. I really wanted to give in. When the big yellow bus came by our house, I wanted to tell him to get on it.

Parenting is not for the weak.

It's so hard not to let the stresses in my life affect how I parent. Especially when they push me to the limits.

Then I remember -

I love that stubborn child more than anything. I think every day that if we can make it through these molding years, he is gong to be an amazing adult. If we both survive, I can't wait to see how God is going to use him and his unique quirks. It will happen. He will grow up. He will have his own kids, and he will remember these days. I mostly want him to remember though, that I love him. Even when he's unlovable.

Because sometimes I am unlovable too. Especially in weeks like this week. Weeks where my world affects my momminess. I don't like it, but it happens.

Just a bit ago he looked up at me with his sweet face with a look that reminded me how much he loves me too. And how sorry he is for the day. I reminded him that tomorrow is a new day.

But for right now, I'm still hiding...