I know it's old news by now, but what I witnessed on American Idol last night was incredible. People just don't surprise me anymore, but they did last night.
When I heard "My Jesus, My Savior, Lord there is none like you..." my jaw dropped, along with about a million other Christian's jaws. It took me a minute, but after the shock wore off I realized what was happening...
The night before (Tuesday) was the "Idol Gives Back" show. Now, I DID DVR the show, but only watched it in spots. Michael told me that the idols sang "Shout" that night (I think he heard about it on Rick and Bubba - our source for news), but I did not see it myself. But as I watched all of the short films with wealthy celebrities crying and being touched (which isn't a bad thing - don't get me wrong...)I was thinking to myself that, yes, these people need food, clean water, medicine, and money to have all of that...but on top of it all, and most importantly, they need hope - the hope that only Jesus can give. All the food and clean water in the world won't satisfy the real needs we all have. What was missing from the show was the source of healing and hope.
Again, let me stress that I think what American Idol does is AWESOME! TV programs don't care about people! But this is why I watch American Idol - it is laying new track and forging ahead being different enough in many ways to make people scratch their heads. It doesn't make fun of anyone (even Simon who, though brutal, is really trying to be helpful...and he usually is right), doesn't put people in positions to make themselves look stupid, thus giving us entertainment value at the expense of dignity and self-respect. It's just a singing competition. Until last night...
Last night, in my opinion, God used AI as a platform. Now, I don't know who of those idols are Christians and who aren't - and it doesn't really matter. What matters, to me, is that last night God was proclaimed and magnified. Last night, "whether in pretense or in truth, Christ was proclaimed, and in that I rejoice." (Philippians 1:18)
If you missed it, here it is...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6G0U8Vg6nY
Bless ya!
Friday, April 11, 2008
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Statistically Speaking
Here are the statistics for the week (so far!!)
4 number of trips I made to Rite-Aid TODAY
8 number of prescriptions I’ve had filled for my family in the last 7 days
2 number of ear infections in our house since last weekend
1 number of times I had to perform the Heimlich on Ethan
3 number of hours I spent in the ER with Michael because of…
3 width in millimeters of his kidney stone
2 number of days of school Molly has missed (not including the hour or so she was out on Monday!)
I know the above sounds kind of sarcastic or bitter, but really I'm just laughin'!
Bless ya!
4 number of trips I made to Rite-Aid TODAY
8 number of prescriptions I’ve had filled for my family in the last 7 days
2 number of ear infections in our house since last weekend
1 number of times I had to perform the Heimlich on Ethan
3 number of hours I spent in the ER with Michael because of…
3 width in millimeters of his kidney stone
2 number of days of school Molly has missed (not including the hour or so she was out on Monday!)
I know the above sounds kind of sarcastic or bitter, but really I'm just laughin'!
Bless ya!
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
On Second Thought...
After my blog post yesterday, I had some time by myself in the car yesterday evening. I love to be in the car, alone, radio off, so I can just think. What was I ruminating on, you ask? Let me share...
I had some time by myself...in the car...on the way to the pharmacy...to pick up TWO antibiotics for Molly's ear...which was SO infected it was almost closed...Michael stayed home...to hold her down...and ease her crying...and her pain...and her suffering...
Could you please hold my "Mother-of-the-Year" award for a minute so I can kick myself?
Yes. As I drove to the pharmacy, following my supreme lack of judgement yesterday, a couple things ran through my mind.
First, and I've said this before, I love to be right, folks! And when I'm not (like this time), I feel like a fool. But I love God - I love how it's his grace that won't let me always be right. He loves me too much to let me think so highly of myself, of my thinking skills, of my judgement. My friend Lynne told me when I was in Birmingham last..."Have a healthy distrust of everything you think/feel." The wisest words said to me lately. (I love you, Lynne...thank you for bravely speaking into my life!!)
And also...God gives me so much more than I deserve. When I fall on my face as a mom, wife, friend, Christian, he doesn't push me away! He restores me and enables me to help restore the situation. This means I can go to Molly, tell her I'm sorry for what I did, explain to her how much mommy needs Jesus, and in that I will teach her a bit about what it means to fail well. The world has its own agenda - and it will try and teach her to not take responsibility for her failures, or to cover them up, or to blameshift, or to deny them, or to just "act like you've got it all together". Don't think for a minute that the world will teach her to "boast in her weaknesses, because when she's weak, she's strong." So, in the end, this is for her good as well as mine.
By the way...the pharmacy I went to was Rite Aid. Again. What is it about that place?
Bless ya!
I had some time by myself...in the car...on the way to the pharmacy...to pick up TWO antibiotics for Molly's ear...which was SO infected it was almost closed...Michael stayed home...to hold her down...and ease her crying...and her pain...and her suffering...
Could you please hold my "Mother-of-the-Year" award for a minute so I can kick myself?
Yes. As I drove to the pharmacy, following my supreme lack of judgement yesterday, a couple things ran through my mind.
First, and I've said this before, I love to be right, folks! And when I'm not (like this time), I feel like a fool. But I love God - I love how it's his grace that won't let me always be right. He loves me too much to let me think so highly of myself, of my thinking skills, of my judgement. My friend Lynne told me when I was in Birmingham last..."Have a healthy distrust of everything you think/feel." The wisest words said to me lately. (I love you, Lynne...thank you for bravely speaking into my life!!)
And also...God gives me so much more than I deserve. When I fall on my face as a mom, wife, friend, Christian, he doesn't push me away! He restores me and enables me to help restore the situation. This means I can go to Molly, tell her I'm sorry for what I did, explain to her how much mommy needs Jesus, and in that I will teach her a bit about what it means to fail well. The world has its own agenda - and it will try and teach her to not take responsibility for her failures, or to cover them up, or to blameshift, or to deny them, or to just "act like you've got it all together". Don't think for a minute that the world will teach her to "boast in her weaknesses, because when she's weak, she's strong." So, in the end, this is for her good as well as mine.
By the way...the pharmacy I went to was Rite Aid. Again. What is it about that place?
Bless ya!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Modern Day Miracles
Today the neatest thing happened...
We received a call from the school nurse at about 10am. Poor Molly was complaining that her ear hurt.
I thought it was a bit odd that her ear would hurt. I mean, even though Ethan has been battling an ear infection this weekend, her ears seemed fine all of spring break. And to think - she has to face the pain on her first day back.
I went up to the school with ear drops and ibuprofen in hand. I found Molly curled up in fetal position on a blue beanbag chair covered with an Ariel towel. "Pathetic" doesn't come close to describing how she looked. Head down, eyes dreary, mouth in a frown. Sad, sad, sad. No fever, though, thankfully.
I brought Molly home.
Then, without warning, something happened. Molly began singing! Molly began skipping! Molly played and rejoiced in life! She was cured! It was a miracle!!
I turned around and took her fanny back to school.
Bless ya!
We received a call from the school nurse at about 10am. Poor Molly was complaining that her ear hurt.
I thought it was a bit odd that her ear would hurt. I mean, even though Ethan has been battling an ear infection this weekend, her ears seemed fine all of spring break. And to think - she has to face the pain on her first day back.
I went up to the school with ear drops and ibuprofen in hand. I found Molly curled up in fetal position on a blue beanbag chair covered with an Ariel towel. "Pathetic" doesn't come close to describing how she looked. Head down, eyes dreary, mouth in a frown. Sad, sad, sad. No fever, though, thankfully.
I brought Molly home.
Then, without warning, something happened. Molly began singing! Molly began skipping! Molly played and rejoiced in life! She was cured! It was a miracle!!
I turned around and took her fanny back to school.
Bless ya!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
The Snake and the Brocci
Just a couple things...
First, I've had a couple people ask me for an update on Steven, the "pet snake" Caroline found in the garden the week before Easter. One day last week - on one of those cold mornings, Caroline woke up to find Steven a bit stiff. He wasn't frozen dead, but Michael did have to explain to her the whole "cold-blooded" concept, and how keeping Steven could ultimately be very harmful to his health. Caroline told us that she intended to let him go - but she wanted to do it Easter morning - thought that would be a good Easter present for him and his family. Knowing there would probably be several more cold mornings before Easter, we tried to persuade her that Steven might not make it until then. I believe I even gave her the whole "if you love somebody, set them free" speech, then left her to herself.
A while later Caroline came in the house, tears streaming down her face. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me that she had gone far into the backyard and let Steven go. She was genuinely sad. It reminded me of the tree frog she caught a few years ago - the tree frog she, literally, loved to death. This love for reptile-like things can of freaks me out, but it's part of who she is. Wherever Steven is, I doubt he'll ever again find the genuine love Caroline had for him!
And second...
Michael told me he wanted me to post this picture on my blog. It's Ethan eating raw broccoli (or "brocci", as he calls it) from our garden. If I cook the stuff, coat it in butter and salt and cheese, he will have none of it, but raw, unwashed (don't worry - it's organic!) from the garden suits his fancy. Go figure.
We had a wonderful Easter, loads of company on Sunday and sweet pictures. Hope yours was just as joyous!
Bless ya!
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Rite Aid Righteousness
Yesterday Ethan, Molly and I made a trip to Rite Aid to take advantage of some sales on potential Easter basket fillings. Rite Aid is never an easy place for me. Why? Several reasons, but I'll just mention one here. In front of the cash registers, front and center, is a huge display of metal cars. They are bigger than matchbox cars...about as big as my hand...and Ethan is like a moth to a flame. In fact, one of his first words was "car". He loves them.
I'm mentally preparing myself, and feel like I have headed it off by telling Ethan that he may NOT go over to the cars. Things seem to be ok...at first. Finally, my helpful 5-year-old Molly WALKS OVER TO THE CARS I JUST TOLD ETHAN TO STAY AWAY FROM. Like a good little brother, he follows. What ensues is nothing short of utter chaos. Ethan palms a great big yellow bus and I follow with "Ethan put that down." He obeys. However, he then proceeds to locate a big grey airplane (or air-gack, as he calls it). "Ethan...put that back." I warn. But alas, his brief stint of obedience has expired.
Ethan turned on me. He threw his pacifier to the ground in a fit of rage and proceeds to fling himself to the ground. Then, as if that weren't enough, he jumps up and runs down one of the aisles toward the back SCREAMING at the top of his strong, young lungs. Me? My hands are full of cheap plastic Easter eggs, chocolate bunnies and some of that ridiculous green cellophane Easter grass. What can I do? I run after him, thus losing my coveted FIFTH place in line (!!!) toward the back of the store. I grab his hand, whisper a few threats - which he can't possibly hear because of the decibel level at this point. He pulls his hand from mine, but I manage to get a good hold. I make my way back to the front of the store, where I am now SEVENTH in line, while Ethan is holding his legs up refusing to let them touch the ground, forcing me to virtually drag him along.
I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that everyone in the store is looking at me. Some of the people - moms - look sympathetic. Others look irritated. I am smiling to myself because I literally am thinking about what I could possibly say to everyone that wouldn't sound like "he never does this!". I hated this moment, but kind of liked it at the same time. It was a perfect example of how I don't need to defend myself. In fact, I had no defense at all! To all of those people at Rite Aid, in that moment, I am a bad mom. I selfishly want to turn to everyone and kind of give my "good mom" resume. You know, show 'em my trophies. But that wouldn't even have worked. Ethan is still screaming, Molly is trying hard to pacify him (I think she was feeling bad about kind of kick starting the whole thing), and I really want and need to buy this stuff. Thank the Lord I am complete in Christ.
When we got to the card I explained to Ethan's 2-year-old ears that the way he acted in Rite Aid was neither loving, respectful or self-controlled...but that's why he needs Jesus, and only Jesus can help him say no to his sin and yes to obedience. I followed that up with a few pops on the behind.
Later, when Michael got home, I told him what had happened. He looked at Ethan and said "Ethan, did you disobey Mommy at the store?" And Ethan said "Daddy...cry." It's amazing what they understand. They are never to young to hear the gospel.
Bless ya!
Oh! One other thing...Caroline found a snake in the backyard and has claimed him as a pet. His name is Steven. He eats termites, which Caroline feeds him, he crawls on her, and this morning she went out and held him during a thunderstorm so he wouldn't be afraid. He's still just a baby, but I'm not feeling good about it. In fact, he might accidentally escape today.
I'm mentally preparing myself, and feel like I have headed it off by telling Ethan that he may NOT go over to the cars. Things seem to be ok...at first. Finally, my helpful 5-year-old Molly WALKS OVER TO THE CARS I JUST TOLD ETHAN TO STAY AWAY FROM. Like a good little brother, he follows. What ensues is nothing short of utter chaos. Ethan palms a great big yellow bus and I follow with "Ethan put that down." He obeys. However, he then proceeds to locate a big grey airplane (or air-gack, as he calls it). "Ethan...put that back." I warn. But alas, his brief stint of obedience has expired.
Ethan turned on me. He threw his pacifier to the ground in a fit of rage and proceeds to fling himself to the ground. Then, as if that weren't enough, he jumps up and runs down one of the aisles toward the back SCREAMING at the top of his strong, young lungs. Me? My hands are full of cheap plastic Easter eggs, chocolate bunnies and some of that ridiculous green cellophane Easter grass. What can I do? I run after him, thus losing my coveted FIFTH place in line (!!!) toward the back of the store. I grab his hand, whisper a few threats - which he can't possibly hear because of the decibel level at this point. He pulls his hand from mine, but I manage to get a good hold. I make my way back to the front of the store, where I am now SEVENTH in line, while Ethan is holding his legs up refusing to let them touch the ground, forcing me to virtually drag him along.
I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that everyone in the store is looking at me. Some of the people - moms - look sympathetic. Others look irritated. I am smiling to myself because I literally am thinking about what I could possibly say to everyone that wouldn't sound like "he never does this!". I hated this moment, but kind of liked it at the same time. It was a perfect example of how I don't need to defend myself. In fact, I had no defense at all! To all of those people at Rite Aid, in that moment, I am a bad mom. I selfishly want to turn to everyone and kind of give my "good mom" resume. You know, show 'em my trophies. But that wouldn't even have worked. Ethan is still screaming, Molly is trying hard to pacify him (I think she was feeling bad about kind of kick starting the whole thing), and I really want and need to buy this stuff. Thank the Lord I am complete in Christ.
When we got to the card I explained to Ethan's 2-year-old ears that the way he acted in Rite Aid was neither loving, respectful or self-controlled...but that's why he needs Jesus, and only Jesus can help him say no to his sin and yes to obedience. I followed that up with a few pops on the behind.
Later, when Michael got home, I told him what had happened. He looked at Ethan and said "Ethan, did you disobey Mommy at the store?" And Ethan said "Daddy...cry." It's amazing what they understand. They are never to young to hear the gospel.
Bless ya!
Oh! One other thing...Caroline found a snake in the backyard and has claimed him as a pet. His name is Steven. He eats termites, which Caroline feeds him, he crawls on her, and this morning she went out and held him during a thunderstorm so he wouldn't be afraid. He's still just a baby, but I'm not feeling good about it. In fact, he might accidentally escape today.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Kenny and the Crayon
Our van has been having a little problem...the right side door won't slide open. A couple months ago I went to open the right sliding door...to no avail. I pulled, I prodded, I got inside the van and kicked the door, I contorted by body every which-a-way, but it wasn't budging. And I had no idea why. Imagine, if you will, pulling up to the car pool line, having to roll down the window and ask the poor teacher if she would mind walking the kids around to the other side of the car. To Mason, who is easily embarrassed, this was the low point of his day for about, oh...2 months. Yesterday Michael and I took the van to "Kenny's Collision Center" to get it fixed.
Michael informed me with little warning that we were taking the van to Kenny's . I had no real opportunity, then, to straighten up the car so it would be in good enough condition for Kenny's very male and very busy eyes (like he cares what my van looks like...still, I was slightly shamed), but regardless, by that afternoon Kenny had worked his magic, and for only $30 we had a door that opened and the paint touched up.
"Why wouldn't it open?" I asked innocently.
"Crayon." Kenny replied.
I don't doubt it at all. In fact, I should have guessed as much. Something as little and insignificant as a crayon had a real impact on our family. At first, we had trouble remembering to go to the left side to get in. Almost inevitably, someone would go to the broken right side, try to open the door, and open it just enough to get the interior light to come on. I remember one particular time Caroline went to the broken door first. She tried to open it, the light came on and my smart-alec remark was "Welcome to the family, Caroline...that door's broken!". Incidentallly, the next Sunday morning at church, I got out of the car, walked around to the broken side and attempted to fling it open. I realized my mistake when, you guessed it...the light came on. Caroline's response?
Welcome to the family, mom! That door's broken!!!
Why does God seem to use crayons so often in my life?
Bless ya!
Michael informed me with little warning that we were taking the van to Kenny's . I had no real opportunity, then, to straighten up the car so it would be in good enough condition for Kenny's very male and very busy eyes (like he cares what my van looks like...still, I was slightly shamed), but regardless, by that afternoon Kenny had worked his magic, and for only $30 we had a door that opened and the paint touched up.
"Why wouldn't it open?" I asked innocently.
"Crayon." Kenny replied.
I don't doubt it at all. In fact, I should have guessed as much. Something as little and insignificant as a crayon had a real impact on our family. At first, we had trouble remembering to go to the left side to get in. Almost inevitably, someone would go to the broken right side, try to open the door, and open it just enough to get the interior light to come on. I remember one particular time Caroline went to the broken door first. She tried to open it, the light came on and my smart-alec remark was "Welcome to the family, Caroline...that door's broken!". Incidentallly, the next Sunday morning at church, I got out of the car, walked around to the broken side and attempted to fling it open. I realized my mistake when, you guessed it...the light came on. Caroline's response?
Welcome to the family, mom! That door's broken!!!
Why does God seem to use crayons so often in my life?
Bless ya!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Ugh!
I want to post...but I don't feel that great today.
I don't feel like sitting here typing. Think I'll watch the Today show...
I don't feel like sitting here typing. Think I'll watch the Today show...
Friday, March 07, 2008
Finding my Joy in the Crumbs
All day long yesterday - as different "opportunities" kept cropping up - I kept thinking "I need to go blog about this right now." But the "opportunities" were just so close together that frankly, I couldn't find the occasion.
Let me just start at the beginning...
At about 4:30 am, Molly woke up - barfing, of course. Following defcon vomit mode, Molly was moved to the couch, and the Cinderella trash can strategically placed. (Aside - that good ol' Cinderella - she never lets us down). Molly of course, had the fever, the whimpers - the whole gamet. Here's a picture (see Cinderella?).
Molly, quite comfy, finally napped. A bit later, my sweet Ethan came to me with an orange crayon and a guilty smile:
He took my hand and led me to his masterpiece.
My budding Picasso! We're so proud of his talent...though we wish he would pick a canvas other than my mother's dining room furniture.
Mr. Clean eraser, here I come!
I failed to mention that I had a Bible study to teach this night...so, I'm studying and preparing in between all this.
Later on, after dinner (Hawaiian pizza), Mason reached up into the freezer to get a "go-gurt", and his hand nudged the box of Girl Scout thin mints - Michael's prized and relished food item...he can make a box last one year - spilling them to the floor. While Michael was screaming (with a smile on his face), the kids scrambled to the crumbs for a forbidden snack off the floor.
Right after dinner I headed next door to Ginger's house for the Bible study. We're studying James right now, and I LOVE it. Last night our verses were James 1:1-8: consider it pure joy whenever you face trials of many kinds. We talked about how often we only look at the considering our trials as pure joy part, without noticing verse 5: if we lack wisdom (insight into our particular trial and the ability to see them as opportunites to have an encounter with the Father), all we have to do is ask. We all face trials, no matter how “good” we happen to be. Our central problem is not our problem itself, but our response to our problem. James tells us that our response should be one of faith – knowing that the Father is our only option (therefore ceasing to fight what he is doing in our lives). So, whether my trial is a sick child, crayons anywhere crayons don't belong, or something much, much more difficult (lots of things come to mind), they are all opportunites to grow in our faith/perseverance/maturity and to see where it is we truly find our joy.
I'll tell ya...it's so freeing and so joy-giving to know that even the little things I face every day are producing something valuable in me.
Bless ya!
Oh! And Molly is feeling much better!
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
I'm not that Elephant
This past Christmas Caroline received a Barbie keyboard. It's cute: Barbie talks to you, there's a microphone, some cool accompaniments. Caroline loves music, so this is right up her alley.
Unfortunately, while perusing the aisles of Toys R Us for Christmas presents, I found myself in a bit of a time crunch...and 4 kids to shop for. Now, know that my nearest Toys R Us is 1 1/2 hours away - I think I've mentioned that before. I appreciate that 1 1/2 hours is not that big of a deal in the whole scheme of life...but, I'm sorry, it is for me. I have to be going to Mobile already for something else.
So, having said that, you can surmise that my research of said Barbie keyboard was limited, at best.
When I got the thing home, I realized that, in addition to the cool accompaniments, we would also have the joyful option of listening to parts of three "popular" pop songs, one of which is "Oops, I did it Again!" by Miss Brittany Spears. I have nothing against Brittany at all. Her songs are quite kicky, I guess. But the words to "Oops" go something like this:
Oops I did it again...I played with your heart...got lost in the game
Oh baby, baby..
Oops, you think I'm in love...that I'm sent from above
I'm not that innocent!
I don't think I'm ready for my 5 and 8 year olds to be singing "I'm not that innocent."
So, as a remedy, I "innocently" enough began singing along with the song, and at the end there, I changed the word "innocent" to "elephant":
"I'm not that elephant!"
Yes, I know it's not completely true, but hey, it works for right now? The fact that my girls walk around singing "Oops...I'm not that elephant" instead of "I'm not that innocent" without any thought of "hey mom, that doesn't sound quite right? Why would she say 'I'm not that elephant'?" actually says quite a lot about the innocence they yet have. And you know what? That's good for me. Because once it's gone, there's no going back.
I have a short vdo of Molly singing the song with the keyboard, which I will attempt to download as soon as I can get up to Michael's study (because at home? Hello! Dial up!). I've watched it a hundred times and it is so cute and funny to me. I know that one day Molly will see it (maybe at her rehearsal dinner? I'll keep that in the mental file...) and roll her eyes at me. But until then I have this living picture of childlike innocence. It's pure gold.
Bless ya!
Unfortunately, while perusing the aisles of Toys R Us for Christmas presents, I found myself in a bit of a time crunch...and 4 kids to shop for. Now, know that my nearest Toys R Us is 1 1/2 hours away - I think I've mentioned that before. I appreciate that 1 1/2 hours is not that big of a deal in the whole scheme of life...but, I'm sorry, it is for me. I have to be going to Mobile already for something else.
So, having said that, you can surmise that my research of said Barbie keyboard was limited, at best.
When I got the thing home, I realized that, in addition to the cool accompaniments, we would also have the joyful option of listening to parts of three "popular" pop songs, one of which is "Oops, I did it Again!" by Miss Brittany Spears. I have nothing against Brittany at all. Her songs are quite kicky, I guess. But the words to "Oops" go something like this:
Oops I did it again...I played with your heart...got lost in the game
Oh baby, baby..
Oops, you think I'm in love...that I'm sent from above
I'm not that innocent!
I don't think I'm ready for my 5 and 8 year olds to be singing "I'm not that innocent."
So, as a remedy, I "innocently" enough began singing along with the song, and at the end there, I changed the word "innocent" to "elephant":
"I'm not that elephant!"
Yes, I know it's not completely true, but hey, it works for right now? The fact that my girls walk around singing "Oops...I'm not that elephant" instead of "I'm not that innocent" without any thought of "hey mom, that doesn't sound quite right? Why would she say 'I'm not that elephant'?" actually says quite a lot about the innocence they yet have. And you know what? That's good for me. Because once it's gone, there's no going back.
I have a short vdo of Molly singing the song with the keyboard, which I will attempt to download as soon as I can get up to Michael's study (because at home? Hello! Dial up!). I've watched it a hundred times and it is so cute and funny to me. I know that one day Molly will see it (maybe at her rehearsal dinner? I'll keep that in the mental file...) and roll her eyes at me. But until then I have this living picture of childlike innocence. It's pure gold.
Bless ya!
Friday, February 29, 2008
To Bundle Up...or Not
It's a chilly day here in LA (that's lower Alabama, for those of you who don't know the lingo). It's a bit overcast, which I love.
On days like this, and even on days unlike this...virtually every day that comes...I am faced with a decision that plagues me: What's the weather going to be like? Do the kids need long sleeves? A light jacket? Long sleeves and a heavy jacket? What?? The newspaper says that the high is 67 degrees. What does that mean? Will it be 67 degrees at 9am...or 6pm? Should we layer? These and other questions like them leave me little time to think through much else on an ordinary morning.
Also, if the paper says the high is going to be 69 degrees, well...that's in the 60's, which is cold. But if the paper says the high is going to be 71 degress...that is in the 70's, see - warm. Michael labors to help me see that they are 2 degrees apart, but I can't wrap my mind around that concept. I see the temperature like I see music - by decades. The 60's are utterly and completely different than the 70's. And don't get me started on the 80's!
What to do? And it never fails...if I dress my kid in long sleeves, coat and mittens, they will be sweating by the time I pull up to the carpool line. If they are in shorts and short-sleeves, every other kid in the school will have on a sweatshirt. I just can't get this right, folks. Can't.
Michael sighs and rolls his eyes at me when I ask questions, too. But I'm learning, right? Maybe when it's Ethan's turn to don the school uniform I will have a handle on things. Sooner or later I am bound to understand how this all works and jump on board...but maybe not. Maybe I should just recognize my limitations and go with my strengths. You know, focus on what I'm good at.
If nothing else, my husband gets a chuckle out of my being appropriately-dressed challenged. That's got to be redemptive somehow, doesn't it?
Bless ya!
On days like this, and even on days unlike this...virtually every day that comes...I am faced with a decision that plagues me: What's the weather going to be like? Do the kids need long sleeves? A light jacket? Long sleeves and a heavy jacket? What?? The newspaper says that the high is 67 degrees. What does that mean? Will it be 67 degrees at 9am...or 6pm? Should we layer? These and other questions like them leave me little time to think through much else on an ordinary morning.
Also, if the paper says the high is going to be 69 degrees, well...that's in the 60's, which is cold. But if the paper says the high is going to be 71 degress...that is in the 70's, see - warm. Michael labors to help me see that they are 2 degrees apart, but I can't wrap my mind around that concept. I see the temperature like I see music - by decades. The 60's are utterly and completely different than the 70's. And don't get me started on the 80's!
What to do? And it never fails...if I dress my kid in long sleeves, coat and mittens, they will be sweating by the time I pull up to the carpool line. If they are in shorts and short-sleeves, every other kid in the school will have on a sweatshirt. I just can't get this right, folks. Can't.
Michael sighs and rolls his eyes at me when I ask questions, too. But I'm learning, right? Maybe when it's Ethan's turn to don the school uniform I will have a handle on things. Sooner or later I am bound to understand how this all works and jump on board...but maybe not. Maybe I should just recognize my limitations and go with my strengths. You know, focus on what I'm good at.
If nothing else, my husband gets a chuckle out of my being appropriately-dressed challenged. That's got to be redemptive somehow, doesn't it?
Bless ya!
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Coffee Break...with a Poptart
I can only write for a second...my friend, Cathy, invited me to meet her at our new Christian bookstore for coffee. Cathy doesn't like coffee, but I do think that is the only major character flaw I see.
I keep praying for Molly this morning. The reason being...wow, I hate saying this...our last interaction of the morning? Let's just say it wouldn't win me the "Mother-of-the-Year" award, ok? As we were walking out of the house Molly said, "Mom, can I have a Pop-tart?" I had just given Mason a Pop-tart, but Molly has a sort of "way" of eating Pop-tarts that is really messy and very slow. She picks off all the outside edges where the frosting doesn't quite make it to the rim. She does this very deliberately and intentionally, so as not to accidently get ANY frosting whatsoever into the discard pile.
I told her "no"...put a nutri-grain into her hand and started out the door. "Mom, I don't like this kind of nutri-grain!" So, I took the nutri-grain, thrust it back into the box (where it got all smashed up), and shoved a different flavor at her.
What were my actions saying to Molly? I love getting to school on time more than I love you...I don't care if you're hungry, you are interrupting my schedule...A clean car is more important than anything else. I know what my brother would say. He would say "you're too hard on yourself." And that would be true if I was going to camp out here and roast marshmallows.
But instead, I will tell Jesus I blew it. I will pray for Molly all day and when she gets home I will hug her and own up to my failure to love her well. I will ask her to forgive me, pray with her, and rejoice in how God restores broken things.
Then I will give her a Pop-tart.
Bless ya!
I keep praying for Molly this morning. The reason being...wow, I hate saying this...our last interaction of the morning? Let's just say it wouldn't win me the "Mother-of-the-Year" award, ok? As we were walking out of the house Molly said, "Mom, can I have a Pop-tart?" I had just given Mason a Pop-tart, but Molly has a sort of "way" of eating Pop-tarts that is really messy and very slow. She picks off all the outside edges where the frosting doesn't quite make it to the rim. She does this very deliberately and intentionally, so as not to accidently get ANY frosting whatsoever into the discard pile.
I told her "no"...put a nutri-grain into her hand and started out the door. "Mom, I don't like this kind of nutri-grain!" So, I took the nutri-grain, thrust it back into the box (where it got all smashed up), and shoved a different flavor at her.
What were my actions saying to Molly? I love getting to school on time more than I love you...I don't care if you're hungry, you are interrupting my schedule...A clean car is more important than anything else. I know what my brother would say. He would say "you're too hard on yourself." And that would be true if I was going to camp out here and roast marshmallows.
But instead, I will tell Jesus I blew it. I will pray for Molly all day and when she gets home I will hug her and own up to my failure to love her well. I will ask her to forgive me, pray with her, and rejoice in how God restores broken things.
Then I will give her a Pop-tart.
Bless ya!
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Sacred
Do you have a song that just, oh...I don't know...says it for you? A few years ago I started writing my life story. Now, let me just say that I'm not writing my life story because I'm "full" of myself or anything (well, I probably am, but I think my motives are good in this minute...), but because I want to leave the story behind for my children. Before my mother died I asked her to write some of her story for me. It is a priceless treasure! It's a piece of her, the real story, and I will never have to say, "Let's see if I remember this correctly..." when I'm telling my kids, who never knew her, about their Nana's life.
Anyway, as I have been writing this story (I think it's up to about 25 typed pages at this point, because, hey...life keeps happening), I have inserted words to songs that have spoken to me during that particular spot in life. For example:
When I was in college and had just become a Christian, it was Sweet Victory by Twila Paris. I had just broken an engagement because I felt God leading me away. It was hard to do that - to give back the ring and simply walk away from a relationship that I thought might be forever. I'm thankful now that it wasn't. But that song - I listened to it over and over and over again in my dorm room. It helped, and I still sing it sometimes. "In this place I rest in more than I can see...High above the turbulence You carry me...From deep in a full heart I will speak Your name...Rising like an eagle I will fly..."
After returning from 2 1/2 years in Thailand I met Michael. We met in the middle of very turbulent times for both of us. Michael's father died May 19, 1997, 6 weeks before our wedding. Then, in June, Michael preached his first sermon on Father's Day of that year - about a month after his father died. The title of the Sermon was "Hold On" and it was about hope. Our entire dating/engagement we drew strength from the Lord and the song Hold On, another one by Twila Paris: "We can hold on to sorrow, hold on to pain...We can hold on to anger, when there is nothing to be gained...We can hold to a thread at the end of a rope...But if we hold on to Jesus we are holding on to hope...Hold on, hold on..."
Then, when we were leaving Altadena Valley PCA and looking for a job in youth ministry, we saw God provide in awesome ways - like a free house to live in...in Mountain Brook, of all places...but I still struggled with wondering if God saw us. Why was it taking so long? I remember living in that neighborhood for 3 months and walking every morning with my walkman listening to the Caedmon's Call song, Shifting Sand: "Waters rose as my doubts reigned...My sand-castle faith, it slipped away...Found myself standing on your grace...It'd been there all the time..My faith is like shifting sand, changed by every wave...My faith is like shifting sand, so I stand on grace..."
In 2004-2005 we faced the roughest storm ever. Some of you may know the story, some of you may not (it's not a secret...I'm (we) are happy to share it, just ask). It has a happy ending, and there has been much "redeeming of the years the locusts ate". During the trial, it felt almost painful to breathe - profound pain, that I now understand was purifying us, showing us our sin, and doing much, much deeper things that I can't even write about. That's a face-to-face with a pot of coffee kind of conversation. Our "mantra" (aside from the many verses in 1 Peter that we were clinging to), was the song Praise you in this Storm, by Casting Crowns: "As the thunder rolls, I barely hear You whisper through the rain "I'm with you"...And as Your mercy falls, I raise my hands and praise the God who gives and takes away...I'll praise You in this storm, and I will lift my hands...For You are who You are, no matter where I am...Every tear I've cried, you hold in Your hand...You never left my side...And though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm."
Well, this morning as I was unloading the dishwasher, I was listening to our newest Caedmon's Call CD. It's called "Overdressed", and there is a song on it that...just...it was just right where I was this morning. I want to give you the words...maybe you can relate as well:
SACRED
This house is a good mess, it's the proof of life.
No way would I trade jobs, but it don't pay overtime.
I'll get to the laundry, I don't know when.
I'm saying a prayer tonight, 'cause tomorrow it starts again.
Could it be that everything is sacred?
And all this time everything I've dreamed of has been right before my eyes?
The children are sleeping, but they're running through my mind.
The sun makes them happy, and the music makes them unwind.
My cup runneth over, and I worry about the stain,
Teach me to run to you, like they run to me for every little thing.
Could it be that everything is sacred?
And all this time everything I've dreamed of has been right before my eyes?
When I forget to drink from you, I can feel the banks harden,
Lord, make me like a stream, to feed the garden.
Wake up, little sleeper,
The Lord God Almighty made your Mama keeper,
So rise and shine.
Could it be that everything is sacred?
And all this time everything I've dreamed of has been right before my eyes?
(Words by Randall Goodgame and Andrew Osenga)
WOW!!!
Bless ya!
Anyway, as I have been writing this story (I think it's up to about 25 typed pages at this point, because, hey...life keeps happening), I have inserted words to songs that have spoken to me during that particular spot in life. For example:
When I was in college and had just become a Christian, it was Sweet Victory by Twila Paris. I had just broken an engagement because I felt God leading me away. It was hard to do that - to give back the ring and simply walk away from a relationship that I thought might be forever. I'm thankful now that it wasn't. But that song - I listened to it over and over and over again in my dorm room. It helped, and I still sing it sometimes. "In this place I rest in more than I can see...High above the turbulence You carry me...From deep in a full heart I will speak Your name...Rising like an eagle I will fly..."
After returning from 2 1/2 years in Thailand I met Michael. We met in the middle of very turbulent times for both of us. Michael's father died May 19, 1997, 6 weeks before our wedding. Then, in June, Michael preached his first sermon on Father's Day of that year - about a month after his father died. The title of the Sermon was "Hold On" and it was about hope. Our entire dating/engagement we drew strength from the Lord and the song Hold On, another one by Twila Paris: "We can hold on to sorrow, hold on to pain...We can hold on to anger, when there is nothing to be gained...We can hold to a thread at the end of a rope...But if we hold on to Jesus we are holding on to hope...Hold on, hold on..."
Then, when we were leaving Altadena Valley PCA and looking for a job in youth ministry, we saw God provide in awesome ways - like a free house to live in...in Mountain Brook, of all places...but I still struggled with wondering if God saw us. Why was it taking so long? I remember living in that neighborhood for 3 months and walking every morning with my walkman listening to the Caedmon's Call song, Shifting Sand: "Waters rose as my doubts reigned...My sand-castle faith, it slipped away...Found myself standing on your grace...It'd been there all the time..My faith is like shifting sand, changed by every wave...My faith is like shifting sand, so I stand on grace..."
In 2004-2005 we faced the roughest storm ever. Some of you may know the story, some of you may not (it's not a secret...I'm (we) are happy to share it, just ask). It has a happy ending, and there has been much "redeeming of the years the locusts ate". During the trial, it felt almost painful to breathe - profound pain, that I now understand was purifying us, showing us our sin, and doing much, much deeper things that I can't even write about. That's a face-to-face with a pot of coffee kind of conversation. Our "mantra" (aside from the many verses in 1 Peter that we were clinging to), was the song Praise you in this Storm, by Casting Crowns: "As the thunder rolls, I barely hear You whisper through the rain "I'm with you"...And as Your mercy falls, I raise my hands and praise the God who gives and takes away...I'll praise You in this storm, and I will lift my hands...For You are who You are, no matter where I am...Every tear I've cried, you hold in Your hand...You never left my side...And though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm."
Well, this morning as I was unloading the dishwasher, I was listening to our newest Caedmon's Call CD. It's called "Overdressed", and there is a song on it that...just...it was just right where I was this morning. I want to give you the words...maybe you can relate as well:
SACRED
This house is a good mess, it's the proof of life.
No way would I trade jobs, but it don't pay overtime.
I'll get to the laundry, I don't know when.
I'm saying a prayer tonight, 'cause tomorrow it starts again.
Could it be that everything is sacred?
And all this time everything I've dreamed of has been right before my eyes?
The children are sleeping, but they're running through my mind.
The sun makes them happy, and the music makes them unwind.
My cup runneth over, and I worry about the stain,
Teach me to run to you, like they run to me for every little thing.
Could it be that everything is sacred?
And all this time everything I've dreamed of has been right before my eyes?
When I forget to drink from you, I can feel the banks harden,
Lord, make me like a stream, to feed the garden.
Wake up, little sleeper,
The Lord God Almighty made your Mama keeper,
So rise and shine.
Could it be that everything is sacred?
And all this time everything I've dreamed of has been right before my eyes?
(Words by Randall Goodgame and Andrew Osenga)
WOW!!!
Bless ya!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Finding God in the Noodles
Michael and I have come to the conclusion that our children need a crash course on table manners. Now, they aren’t jumping on the table, or throwing stuff at each other, but somehow napkins don’t seem to make it to laps, there is a lot of wiggling, singing, elbows on the table…that sort of thing. Now, just like with anything, balance is the key. In our house, when we have spaghetti, noodles will be placed under the nose. We make noodle moustaches each and every time there is a noodle cooked on my stove. In fact, if we have noodles at your house, we will probably make noodle moustaches there as well. (Incidentally – there is one other thing we sometimes do with noodles. It involves the noodle and the word “achoo!”. I’ll let you do the math…)
Last night at dinner, I informed the fam that from now on, we are going to take a “hard line” with the table manners. I bought a book. We are going to have examples of what not to do (starring Michael) as well as examples of the correct things to do (starring…me). It’s going to be a rich learning environment, I promise you.
Anyhow, once we had finished dinner and were kind of sitting around talking to each other, Ethan got up from his chair and went and sat with Michael. Michael is really into the crystal light singles – where you just pour the mix right into your glass or bottle of water (it just makes Monroeville water taste better – and every little bit helps). He (Michael) was sitting there with at least 2/3 of a glass full of something red. Ethan went over there, sat in his lap and began trying to drink from Michael’s cup.
Now, before you start thinking, “Wow…Amy can see into the future!”, let me also add that I had mopped the kitchen floor that day. So, it goes without saying, really. The rule is, on the day you mop, the children will want chocolate pudding for an after school snack, or they will end up eating (and dropping) rice krispies (once those suckers get down there and harden, walking near the table is almost like walking on crunchy bubble-wrap). As I watched sweet Ethan heaving Michael’s glass up to his mouth my thought was, “What a sweet boy…who is about to spill red stuff all over my floor.”
Splash!
Ethan started to cry. The reasons – probably two-fold. Firstly, he was wondering if he was going to get disciplined (which he didn’t, of course, but I know him and know that would be his first thought), and secondly, the water was cold. Ethan was covered in cold, pink stuff, so I took him to the bathroom and started running the tub. Meanwhile, over the hum of the bath water, I heard a scream. A blood-curdling scream.
I thought at first maybe I had imagined it, but no, it continued. I called Molly into the bathroom to watch Ethan so I could go see what the problem was. Evidently, Mason was spinning Caroline around in the kitchen, she slipped, and her face nailed the floor. Her forehead looked like it was wearing a purple marble.
Maybe table manners are overrated? If we had just stayed in our seats putting noodles up our noses, no one would have gotten hurt, right? You know what else I learned? Even the best table manners in the world cannot control chaos. It might make a meal more pleasant, but they won’t give life. Don’t get me wrong! I’m not saying “since the world is chaotic and sad, let’s just forget about table manners”. That’s not what I’m saying at all. The point I am trying to make is: Manners – important. They sort of “bring God’s kingdom to bear” right there at the dinner table. They (good manners) are a way to love others, and we are all about making our children understand this. However, they won’t solve the world’s problems, so if we occasionally slip up, God is still God. I am talking bigger picture here, folks, and I am really just talking to myself.
So. Noodles all around! A-A-A-choo!
Bless ya!
Last night at dinner, I informed the fam that from now on, we are going to take a “hard line” with the table manners. I bought a book. We are going to have examples of what not to do (starring Michael) as well as examples of the correct things to do (starring…me). It’s going to be a rich learning environment, I promise you.
Anyhow, once we had finished dinner and were kind of sitting around talking to each other, Ethan got up from his chair and went and sat with Michael. Michael is really into the crystal light singles – where you just pour the mix right into your glass or bottle of water (it just makes Monroeville water taste better – and every little bit helps). He (Michael) was sitting there with at least 2/3 of a glass full of something red. Ethan went over there, sat in his lap and began trying to drink from Michael’s cup.
Now, before you start thinking, “Wow…Amy can see into the future!”, let me also add that I had mopped the kitchen floor that day. So, it goes without saying, really. The rule is, on the day you mop, the children will want chocolate pudding for an after school snack, or they will end up eating (and dropping) rice krispies (once those suckers get down there and harden, walking near the table is almost like walking on crunchy bubble-wrap). As I watched sweet Ethan heaving Michael’s glass up to his mouth my thought was, “What a sweet boy…who is about to spill red stuff all over my floor.”
Splash!
Ethan started to cry. The reasons – probably two-fold. Firstly, he was wondering if he was going to get disciplined (which he didn’t, of course, but I know him and know that would be his first thought), and secondly, the water was cold. Ethan was covered in cold, pink stuff, so I took him to the bathroom and started running the tub. Meanwhile, over the hum of the bath water, I heard a scream. A blood-curdling scream.
I thought at first maybe I had imagined it, but no, it continued. I called Molly into the bathroom to watch Ethan so I could go see what the problem was. Evidently, Mason was spinning Caroline around in the kitchen, she slipped, and her face nailed the floor. Her forehead looked like it was wearing a purple marble.
Maybe table manners are overrated? If we had just stayed in our seats putting noodles up our noses, no one would have gotten hurt, right? You know what else I learned? Even the best table manners in the world cannot control chaos. It might make a meal more pleasant, but they won’t give life. Don’t get me wrong! I’m not saying “since the world is chaotic and sad, let’s just forget about table manners”. That’s not what I’m saying at all. The point I am trying to make is: Manners – important. They sort of “bring God’s kingdom to bear” right there at the dinner table. They (good manners) are a way to love others, and we are all about making our children understand this. However, they won’t solve the world’s problems, so if we occasionally slip up, God is still God. I am talking bigger picture here, folks, and I am really just talking to myself.
So. Noodles all around! A-A-A-choo!
Bless ya!
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Emotional Soup
I am an emotional soup right now.
Last night (and the night before!!) Ethan was up - I forget how many times and for how long - pulling on his ear saying, "Mommy, ouch!" Why is it always at night and why is it always on weekends? I'll be home from church again today, but that' ok. So, I'm tired, and for me, being tired leads to one thing...crying and randomness (actually, that's two things. See, I'm just not thinking clearly.)
I think I'll share some of the little things in life that make me happy...
Funny commercials - I love the cheese commerial where the bull goes up to the cows and tries to hit on them by speaking with a French accent, then the cow, who actually does speak french, starts saying all these things he doesn't understand, and he's busted. Sometimes (since we got a free DVR when we signed up for sattelite) I will DVR commercials and play them back for Michael.
My pan flute CD. Mason gave it to me for my birthday. It's called "Endless Love" and it has various ballads performed on the pan flute. And yes...Endless Love is one of the ballads. It's from the Dollar Tree, and you can't go wrong there.
Cinnamon rolls - the kind that come from the tube with the little packet of icing.
Reconnecting with old friends - this past week I was so blessed to have several conversations with people I haven't talked to in a while. I LOVE that! It feels so good that I just want to go through my address book and reconnect with everyone. The best kind are the ones you can go without talking to for a year, but when you finally do it seems like you just pick right up where you left off.
My under-the-cabinet CD player - this is where I enjoy my pan flute CD.
And while we're on the subject...I'm also thankful for Rick and Bubba - they are a little piece of home, and Rick's recent loss of his 2 year old son (same age as Ethan) made me hold my kids a little tighter and a little longer.
My brother - He is wonderful, and so funny. He makes me gut-laugh every time I talk to him. He is raising his 2 girls and doing a wonderful job. I'm very proud of him.
Photographs - If my house were on fire and I only had time to save one thing (with the understanding that my family was safely outside) it would be my photo albums. I attempt scrapbooking, but the photo albums are always current and in order.
Coffee - If there weren't a beautiful world to show us God's creativity and love for us, but there was only coffee, wouldn't that be enough? A good cup of coffee is a gift from the Lord.
and with coffee goes...
Books - Just the feel of a book in my hand makes me smile. Especially if in the other hand, there is a cup of coffee to go with it.
The smell of other people's fresh laundry - I know that sounds weird, but I often get my kids' clothes returned to me, washed, after they've left them at someone's house. When they are clean inside that Target bag, they just smell so much better than my fresh laundry. Maybe it's that their combinations of detergent/fabric softener are different than mine? Maybe it's the Target bag? I know that the Gain/Downy combo is the best frangrance-wise, but even if I use them myself, my clothes don't smell like that. Maybe it really is the Target bag...maybe it's like a "curing" crucible or something. Hmmm...food for thought.
The way Michael makes the kids laugh - No matter how much tickling I do, I can't bring forth the same response as Michael. They laugh so hard that it sounds like "kkkkkkkkkkkkk". Do you know what I mean when I say that?
Giving up the warm side of the bed - I have this really silly thing I do for Michael. I love the feel of the coolness when you first slip into bed, and then when things get warm, putting my arms and legs in different spots so they can feel cool again. So, I hurry and get ready for bed and crawl to Michael's side. Michael would rather the bed be toasty warm when he gets in. So, I enjoy the coolness on his side and, in the process, warm it up for him. Then, when he gets into bed I just roll over to my side where I get to experience the cold again. (one thing...this is not as great a feeling when it is super-cold. I like the cold, but I eventually want it to warm up. Summer is optimal for this effect. Honestly, I can be pretty selfish with the warm-up-his-side-first thing in, say, December, January and February).
Family recipes and french white corningware
Rainy days and nowhere to go
Reading the blogs of my friends
Looking at my children's lost baby teeth
Contemporary Christian music
The sound of a clicking tock (I mean, ticking clock. That actually was a real typo, but I thought it was fun enough to leave like that)
Little House on the Prairie reruns
Silence
My Wednesday/sometimes Thursday women's group
The sound of my girls singing songs they have made up themselves
I guess that's it for now...
Bless ya!
Last night (and the night before!!) Ethan was up - I forget how many times and for how long - pulling on his ear saying, "Mommy, ouch!" Why is it always at night and why is it always on weekends? I'll be home from church again today, but that' ok. So, I'm tired, and for me, being tired leads to one thing...crying and randomness (actually, that's two things. See, I'm just not thinking clearly.)
I think I'll share some of the little things in life that make me happy...
Funny commercials - I love the cheese commerial where the bull goes up to the cows and tries to hit on them by speaking with a French accent, then the cow, who actually does speak french, starts saying all these things he doesn't understand, and he's busted. Sometimes (since we got a free DVR when we signed up for sattelite) I will DVR commercials and play them back for Michael.
My pan flute CD. Mason gave it to me for my birthday. It's called "Endless Love" and it has various ballads performed on the pan flute. And yes...Endless Love is one of the ballads. It's from the Dollar Tree, and you can't go wrong there.
Cinnamon rolls - the kind that come from the tube with the little packet of icing.
Reconnecting with old friends - this past week I was so blessed to have several conversations with people I haven't talked to in a while. I LOVE that! It feels so good that I just want to go through my address book and reconnect with everyone. The best kind are the ones you can go without talking to for a year, but when you finally do it seems like you just pick right up where you left off.
My under-the-cabinet CD player - this is where I enjoy my pan flute CD.
And while we're on the subject...I'm also thankful for Rick and Bubba - they are a little piece of home, and Rick's recent loss of his 2 year old son (same age as Ethan) made me hold my kids a little tighter and a little longer.
My brother - He is wonderful, and so funny. He makes me gut-laugh every time I talk to him. He is raising his 2 girls and doing a wonderful job. I'm very proud of him.
Photographs - If my house were on fire and I only had time to save one thing (with the understanding that my family was safely outside) it would be my photo albums. I attempt scrapbooking, but the photo albums are always current and in order.
Coffee - If there weren't a beautiful world to show us God's creativity and love for us, but there was only coffee, wouldn't that be enough? A good cup of coffee is a gift from the Lord.
and with coffee goes...
Books - Just the feel of a book in my hand makes me smile. Especially if in the other hand, there is a cup of coffee to go with it.
The smell of other people's fresh laundry - I know that sounds weird, but I often get my kids' clothes returned to me, washed, after they've left them at someone's house. When they are clean inside that Target bag, they just smell so much better than my fresh laundry. Maybe it's that their combinations of detergent/fabric softener are different than mine? Maybe it's the Target bag? I know that the Gain/Downy combo is the best frangrance-wise, but even if I use them myself, my clothes don't smell like that. Maybe it really is the Target bag...maybe it's like a "curing" crucible or something. Hmmm...food for thought.
The way Michael makes the kids laugh - No matter how much tickling I do, I can't bring forth the same response as Michael. They laugh so hard that it sounds like "kkkkkkkkkkkkk". Do you know what I mean when I say that?
Giving up the warm side of the bed - I have this really silly thing I do for Michael. I love the feel of the coolness when you first slip into bed, and then when things get warm, putting my arms and legs in different spots so they can feel cool again. So, I hurry and get ready for bed and crawl to Michael's side. Michael would rather the bed be toasty warm when he gets in. So, I enjoy the coolness on his side and, in the process, warm it up for him. Then, when he gets into bed I just roll over to my side where I get to experience the cold again. (one thing...this is not as great a feeling when it is super-cold. I like the cold, but I eventually want it to warm up. Summer is optimal for this effect. Honestly, I can be pretty selfish with the warm-up-his-side-first thing in, say, December, January and February).
Family recipes and french white corningware
Rainy days and nowhere to go
Reading the blogs of my friends
Looking at my children's lost baby teeth
Contemporary Christian music
The sound of a clicking tock (I mean, ticking clock. That actually was a real typo, but I thought it was fun enough to leave like that)
Little House on the Prairie reruns
Silence
My Wednesday/sometimes Thursday women's group
The sound of my girls singing songs they have made up themselves
I guess that's it for now...
Bless ya!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Criticism...and Fuzzy Pink Mittens
My dear Molly is a thumb sucker. Last week I took the 3 big kids to the dentist and learned (again!) that Molly will need a complete dental overhaul as a result of this habit. Her teeth are out of whack and her jaw is...crooked, I guess. She used to suck her thumb all the time, now it's just (mostly, though occasionally she gets busted) at night. The dentist said we could take her to the orthodontist now and he'd install some sort of scratching device, so that when she puts her thumb in her mouth, she'll get a scratch and hopefully remove said thumb. Ah, such simplicity...
Not that it's not a great idea! We just decided to try a technique of our own. Now, in addition to our regular bedtime routine (bath, Bible stories, prayer, teeth brushing, back rubs), we have added: the putting on of the fuzzy pink mittens.
Molly loves these mittens. They are pink. They are fuzzy (a little pilled, if you ask me), and they have Winnie the Pooh on them. Our reasoning? If she has on mittens, she can't suck her thumb...problem solved. We did have a couple of mornings at first when we woke her up to discover the mittens on the floor, thumb in her mouth. But I'm happy to say that this morning when I went into her room, her arms were splayed, hands covered in pink. Success.
I love my Molly. I want her to have a pretty mouth. Sucking her thumb is just taking her down a path to things that could hurt her both physically (braces and the scratchy thing) or emotionally (Molly sucks her thumb! Molly sucks her thumb!). The fuzzy pink mittes are something she can use to help her NOT nurture a habit that's not good for her.
Criticism...and fuzzy pink mittens. I know it sounds far fetched, but in my prayer time this morning, God helped me to tie these two together. Let me see if I can explain.
Can I be honest? I don't like to be criticized. Even if it's from a friend I love and know is for me - I don't like it at all (and neither do you). But criticism seems like one of those things that God has set up to sanctify us, develop our perseverance, make us rely on him. It hurts, but it's good for us in the long run - kind of like a shot of antibiotic in the butt, or a vaccination. The Bible says that the wounds of a friend are faithful (I stress the word friend...I wouldn't go to someone with something I see in their life until I had earned the right to speak into that life!!!), but there are those who will criticize just because they don't like you, or don't like what you said, or don't like the way you discipline/don't discipline your children, or don't like that you do this or that, or don't see things their way. (And lest you think I'm lumping all the people like that into a different category from us blog readers...let me admit that I have criticized people like that in my heart, and sometimes to some OTHER listening ear...very, very dangerous indeed.) Criticism will happen...it's what we do with it that matters.
For me, this is the rub. I have a hard time not wearing my feelings on my sleeve. I get bothered and it it shows. Then, often, my heart becomes bitter. I may dismiss that person and think, "Well, they don't matter anyway," instead of seeing what truth there may be in the criticism, taking it to the Lord, repenting of some sin (or some hard heartedness) thanking God for the trial and growing in perseverance. Too, too many time I have let things fester in my heart.
The solution? Fuzzy pink mittens. Wait! Let me explain...you see, I have this habit of hardening my heart to something that hurts, but that the Father intends for my good. I don't need to stew on the bad things, I need to stop stewing! I need to trust the Lord. And the only way I can do that is through Jesus. Believing the gospel (Jesus loves me, a sinner, enough to die for me and make a way for me to have a relationship with God through faith). He gives me his Word, full of encouragement and power (we'll call this the left hand). He gives me his Holy Spirit, who helps me to say NO to ungodliness (and we'll call this the right hand). They may not be on my hands, but I sort of have my own set of fuzzy pink mittens, you see. Just like Molly uses her fuzzy pink mittens to keep her from nurturing a habit that's not good for her, I can use mine the same way.
I hope this makes sense. I think today I'm going to go and get my own cute red mittens and stick them somewhere I can look at them from time to time throughout the day. I could use the reminder. Please pray that I don't take them off and throw them in the floor!
Bless ya!
Not that it's not a great idea! We just decided to try a technique of our own. Now, in addition to our regular bedtime routine (bath, Bible stories, prayer, teeth brushing, back rubs), we have added: the putting on of the fuzzy pink mittens.
Molly loves these mittens. They are pink. They are fuzzy (a little pilled, if you ask me), and they have Winnie the Pooh on them. Our reasoning? If she has on mittens, she can't suck her thumb...problem solved. We did have a couple of mornings at first when we woke her up to discover the mittens on the floor, thumb in her mouth. But I'm happy to say that this morning when I went into her room, her arms were splayed, hands covered in pink. Success.
I love my Molly. I want her to have a pretty mouth. Sucking her thumb is just taking her down a path to things that could hurt her both physically (braces and the scratchy thing) or emotionally (Molly sucks her thumb! Molly sucks her thumb!). The fuzzy pink mittes are something she can use to help her NOT nurture a habit that's not good for her.
Criticism...and fuzzy pink mittens. I know it sounds far fetched, but in my prayer time this morning, God helped me to tie these two together. Let me see if I can explain.
Can I be honest? I don't like to be criticized. Even if it's from a friend I love and know is for me - I don't like it at all (and neither do you). But criticism seems like one of those things that God has set up to sanctify us, develop our perseverance, make us rely on him. It hurts, but it's good for us in the long run - kind of like a shot of antibiotic in the butt, or a vaccination. The Bible says that the wounds of a friend are faithful (I stress the word friend...I wouldn't go to someone with something I see in their life until I had earned the right to speak into that life!!!), but there are those who will criticize just because they don't like you, or don't like what you said, or don't like the way you discipline/don't discipline your children, or don't like that you do this or that, or don't see things their way. (And lest you think I'm lumping all the people like that into a different category from us blog readers...let me admit that I have criticized people like that in my heart, and sometimes to some OTHER listening ear...very, very dangerous indeed.) Criticism will happen...it's what we do with it that matters.
For me, this is the rub. I have a hard time not wearing my feelings on my sleeve. I get bothered and it it shows. Then, often, my heart becomes bitter. I may dismiss that person and think, "Well, they don't matter anyway," instead of seeing what truth there may be in the criticism, taking it to the Lord, repenting of some sin (or some hard heartedness) thanking God for the trial and growing in perseverance. Too, too many time I have let things fester in my heart.
The solution? Fuzzy pink mittens. Wait! Let me explain...you see, I have this habit of hardening my heart to something that hurts, but that the Father intends for my good. I don't need to stew on the bad things, I need to stop stewing! I need to trust the Lord. And the only way I can do that is through Jesus. Believing the gospel (Jesus loves me, a sinner, enough to die for me and make a way for me to have a relationship with God through faith). He gives me his Word, full of encouragement and power (we'll call this the left hand). He gives me his Holy Spirit, who helps me to say NO to ungodliness (and we'll call this the right hand). They may not be on my hands, but I sort of have my own set of fuzzy pink mittens, you see. Just like Molly uses her fuzzy pink mittens to keep her from nurturing a habit that's not good for her, I can use mine the same way.
I hope this makes sense. I think today I'm going to go and get my own cute red mittens and stick them somewhere I can look at them from time to time throughout the day. I could use the reminder. Please pray that I don't take them off and throw them in the floor!
Bless ya!
Sunday, February 10, 2008
An awesome book!!
This past Saturday evening I read a great book.
Well, to be honest, I read the first 40 or so pages on Friday night.
A Thousand Splendid Suns is, in my opinion, a must read. I know it's not on my list at right, but my friend Ginger dropped it off on her way out of town on Friday, and I started reading it immediately.
Girls, do not read this book if you don't want to cry like a baby. It is riveting - it is difficult to read. I tried many times to put it down last night and absolutely could not do it. And I cried - oh, how I cried. I cried and wiggled around...I want to go ahead and used the word "writhed", if I may. I got up from the book at least 2 times and went into the bedrooms and kissed my sweet children, and dear, dear husband, all asleep.
I tried to process through it with Michael this afternoon. I don't want to tell you what it's about, except that it is about women and friendship in war-torn Afghanistan, starting in the early 70's and ending around 2004, or so.
Buy or borrow this book. Trust me.
Bless ya!
Friday, February 08, 2008
Oops!
I did not mean to post "Teethmarks in the Chapstick" twice, for those of you who experienced deja-vu.
In the future, I'll take panes to be more detail oriented. Oh! And my friend, Jawan (who, incidentally, brought the double-posting to my attention), will understand why I chose to use the word "panes" instead of "pains" in that last sentence. If you'd like to find out for yourself, please visit her at: themcginnismessage.blogspot.com
Bless ya!
In the future, I'll take panes to be more detail oriented. Oh! And my friend, Jawan (who, incidentally, brought the double-posting to my attention), will understand why I chose to use the word "panes" instead of "pains" in that last sentence. If you'd like to find out for yourself, please visit her at: themcginnismessage.blogspot.com
Bless ya!
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Teethmarks in the Chapstick
As a mom, I know that nothing is really mine. I may have a false sense of ownership – I may even tell my kids that they should thank their lucky stars that I let them live here, in MY house…but we all know the truth: I am just a tenant.
Say, for example, I want to brush my hair. I may as well traipse off to the girls room first where I will find my hairbrush…waiting…in the girls’ vanity drawer. Want to read at night? The handy book light is right where I keep it – on Mason’s desk. Lips feelin’a little dry and chafed? The solution is always candy cane scented chapstick. Of course, I will have to wipe off Ethan’s spit first, and try and even out the teeth marks, but…
And no matter how much I try to press the issue, things don’t really change. One morning, I reached for my hairbrush and couldn’t find it.
“Caroline!” I bellowed.
“Yes, Mom,” she answered.
“Caroline, I need to explain to you about a little thing I like to call personal possession. Basically, it’s when something belongs to someone else. Like…my hairbrush, for example. You have a perfectly good brush in your drawer, don’t know why you have to get mine, make me have to go searching, already have a million things to do in the morning, how would you feel if I took your stuff without asking, treat others as you would have them treat you, how would you…”
“MOM!!” Caroline interrupted.
“See, there you go, Caroline, in this house when mom is speaking we are respectful and don’t interrupt the homily…”
“But Mom, your brush is in your hand…”
Now, maybe this isn’t the blog entry that’s going to make me look stellar or anything (but I figure by now, if you’ve been reading this blog, you already appreciate this nugget of truth anyway!). But reflecting on instances like this make me see how much I make big deals out of such small stuff. You know, small things like caps back on toothpaste tubes, not wiping your toothpast-y mouth on your sisters bath towel, swishing the cereal bowl with water before setting it in the sink for it to harden into whole-grain glue before I get around to washing it, laying your coat on the floor next to the coat hooks. These things (and oh, so many more like them) are the crayons in my dryer. They are opportunities to trust that God is good, that he knows I’m here, and that he is committed to making me more like him. Plus, I know that in a few years I will think back to the teethmarks in my chapstick with fondness and nostalgia.
Sadly, Scripture is silent on teethmarks in the chapstick. But I do know they are for my good and HIS glory.
Bless ya!
Say, for example, I want to brush my hair. I may as well traipse off to the girls room first where I will find my hairbrush…waiting…in the girls’ vanity drawer. Want to read at night? The handy book light is right where I keep it – on Mason’s desk. Lips feelin’a little dry and chafed? The solution is always candy cane scented chapstick. Of course, I will have to wipe off Ethan’s spit first, and try and even out the teeth marks, but…
And no matter how much I try to press the issue, things don’t really change. One morning, I reached for my hairbrush and couldn’t find it.
“Caroline!” I bellowed.
“Yes, Mom,” she answered.
“Caroline, I need to explain to you about a little thing I like to call personal possession. Basically, it’s when something belongs to someone else. Like…my hairbrush, for example. You have a perfectly good brush in your drawer, don’t know why you have to get mine, make me have to go searching, already have a million things to do in the morning, how would you feel if I took your stuff without asking, treat others as you would have them treat you, how would you…”
“MOM!!” Caroline interrupted.
“See, there you go, Caroline, in this house when mom is speaking we are respectful and don’t interrupt the homily…”
“But Mom, your brush is in your hand…”
Now, maybe this isn’t the blog entry that’s going to make me look stellar or anything (but I figure by now, if you’ve been reading this blog, you already appreciate this nugget of truth anyway!). But reflecting on instances like this make me see how much I make big deals out of such small stuff. You know, small things like caps back on toothpaste tubes, not wiping your toothpast-y mouth on your sisters bath towel, swishing the cereal bowl with water before setting it in the sink for it to harden into whole-grain glue before I get around to washing it, laying your coat on the floor next to the coat hooks. These things (and oh, so many more like them) are the crayons in my dryer. They are opportunities to trust that God is good, that he knows I’m here, and that he is committed to making me more like him. Plus, I know that in a few years I will think back to the teethmarks in my chapstick with fondness and nostalgia.
Sadly, Scripture is silent on teethmarks in the chapstick. But I do know they are for my good and HIS glory.
Bless ya!
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