I am, thankfully, a member of the PTO of our local elementary school. I love our elementary school and am so glad to be a part of helping something so good become even better. At our first meeting this past week, I helped with collecting money for t-shirts and PTO dues. Parents and teachers were still filling seats as the meeting started, so I kept my seat at the table towards the side of the room, while Michael…and all 4 children…found a seat in the lunchroom.
The meeting began. There were plenty of children there, so a sort of child-like “hum” of noise could be heard throughout the room. I didn’t think much about it, until I saw little Ethan running up to me.
“Hi, Ma!” (He’s started calling me ‘Ma”. It may be the effect of too much Little House on the Prairie?)
He took off as quick as he came. Down between the rows of lunchroom tables he flew. Then I saw him again…and again…and again. Up and down, up and down, round and round he went. At first I got some of those glances from parents that said, “Oh, isn’t he precious!?” You know the kind I mean. But then something happened. I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t.
From across the room I watched helplessly as Molly tried to reign her brother in – to no avail. If this power struggled had taken place in the middle of a lunchroom row, or in the back of the room, I could have stomached it oh, so much better. It didn’t. Molly and Ethan were literally WRESTLING each other at the feet of our beloved principal, who happened to be speaking, microphone in hand, at that very moment.
I watched the tussle from my spot at the money table, virtually glued to my chair with something between fear and utter shame. The two of them were a ball of hair and limbs. Ethan would get an arm out, only to have Molly pull it back in.
“Psst!!” Was the best I could muster. Weak, I know.
There was nothing I could do but wait until it was over. I did say a short prayer, “Lord, please don’t let them knock her down,” which God, thankfully, answered with a “yes”. Ethan broke free and ran to me. Right in front of the principal – all eyes watching him.
You know what? This was good for me. I remarked to Michael later – who saw NONE of it, by the way – that I wondered what I would have thought about the whole scene if it had been another mom’s children. I think I might have thought “Why doesn’t that mom get her children before they knock down the principal?!” In fact, I’m almost positive I would have had those thoughts. As helpless as I felt watching the whole thing go down – for to get into the thick of it would have meant standing up, walking up to the front of the room in front of all the parents and teachers as the principal was speaking, and breaking apart a Tom-and-Jerry-like scene – I realized that had it been another mom, I might not have been as understanding or as gracious with her. A good reminder the next time I am quick to pass judgment on someone because of something I see her kids doing. It seems like the Father has been giving me this reminder over and over again lately: I don’t know the whole story about anyone. I wouldn’t want someone to judge me because of something she happens to see at one event, or because of a decision I make without him/her knowing all the thought and prayer that went into it…you see what I’m saying.
So, this is a picture of God’s mercy to me. I’m thankful for these pictures…and I’m thankful for my sweet and sometimes crazy children, who time and time again are the conduits of God’s grace to me.
Bless ya!
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
A Blanket Analogy
Self-righteousness – A “right-ness” that comes from self – our own definitions, ideas and resources.
When Mason was born he was given a white, hand-crocheted baby blanket. It was so delicate, so soft, and I knew it was a labor of love.
However, Mason didn’t care much for the blanket. I mean, it was just another blanket to him. Because I thought it was a bit “feminine”, I decided to pack it away and hold on to it in case we ever had a girl.
14 months later, along came that girl. I remembered the blanket and pulled it out for Caroline to use. She loved that blanket – even as a baby. As a toddler, she carried it around with her. It went on car trips with us, to church, to the mall. We went no where without “blankie”.
After several years of “lovin’”, you can imagine how unkempt the blanket came to be. So much so that I decided that if the blanket were going to be preserved in any way, I was going to have to put it away and tempt Caroline with another blanket in its place. It took some coaxing, but I managed to replace old, white blanket with a new, fuzzy, pink one bearing a rabbit. Mission accomplished. I put white blanket into the “safekeeping” box for, well…safekeeping.
Sadly, not a year later, pink blanket was inexplicably and forever lost somewhere. This fact was not brought to my attention until bedtime. Caroline was not to be consoled! After many tears (some of them mine), I retrieved white blanket from safekeeping and presented it to Caroline with a change in my own heart: So what if she loves it to “death”? It’s her blanket.
Caroline is now 8 years old. We know where white blanket is at all times. She doesn’t sleep with it every SINGLE night, but she loves it. Truth be told, white blanket is no longer white, actually. I’d say more of a light gray. In fact, the term “blanket” is also a misnomer. I’d say “clump of string” is more apt. Washing this blanket is out of the question. It would completely disintegrate.
Looking at Caroline with her blanket sort of got me thinking…white blanket is an awful lot like self-righteousness.
Think about it…Caroline has a blanket that she loves. She doesn’t see its flaws. She doesn’t see the gaping holes, the dingy color. She has no idea how ugly the blanket really is. But I do! I look at that thing and see drool stains and holes. I see brown smudges from who knows where. Come to think of it, the thing doesn’t smell very fresh either.
It’s that way with our own self-righteousness. Sometimes we can become “smug” in our views, look down on people because of something they do, or don’t do, set ourselves up as judge of all that’s right or wrong, or consider ourselves always right. The thing is – we may never even overtly know this, but other people do. Our self-righteousness is so crystal clear to others. Others see the holes, the ugliness, the smelliness that we so blindly feel good about.
Since our hearts are “deceitful above all things” self-righteousness is something to which we are all prone. Christians and non-Christians alike.
Here is where the blanket/self-righteousness analogy breaks down a little bit. I love that Caroline loves her blanket. I don’t want her to give it up. Heck – I don’t even really want it to be cleaner necessarily. But as Caroline ages and develops more into a young woman with ideas about how the world and the people in it operate, I pray that she would have a heart of compassion, godly discernment, and an ability to love other people “where they are” rather than judging from a heart that’s self-righteous. That is, after all, the kind of heart Jesus had.
After all, self righteousness is much, much more ugly than the tattered old blanket of her childhood.
When Mason was born he was given a white, hand-crocheted baby blanket. It was so delicate, so soft, and I knew it was a labor of love.
However, Mason didn’t care much for the blanket. I mean, it was just another blanket to him. Because I thought it was a bit “feminine”, I decided to pack it away and hold on to it in case we ever had a girl.
14 months later, along came that girl. I remembered the blanket and pulled it out for Caroline to use. She loved that blanket – even as a baby. As a toddler, she carried it around with her. It went on car trips with us, to church, to the mall. We went no where without “blankie”.
After several years of “lovin’”, you can imagine how unkempt the blanket came to be. So much so that I decided that if the blanket were going to be preserved in any way, I was going to have to put it away and tempt Caroline with another blanket in its place. It took some coaxing, but I managed to replace old, white blanket with a new, fuzzy, pink one bearing a rabbit. Mission accomplished. I put white blanket into the “safekeeping” box for, well…safekeeping.
Sadly, not a year later, pink blanket was inexplicably and forever lost somewhere. This fact was not brought to my attention until bedtime. Caroline was not to be consoled! After many tears (some of them mine), I retrieved white blanket from safekeeping and presented it to Caroline with a change in my own heart: So what if she loves it to “death”? It’s her blanket.
Caroline is now 8 years old. We know where white blanket is at all times. She doesn’t sleep with it every SINGLE night, but she loves it. Truth be told, white blanket is no longer white, actually. I’d say more of a light gray. In fact, the term “blanket” is also a misnomer. I’d say “clump of string” is more apt. Washing this blanket is out of the question. It would completely disintegrate.
Looking at Caroline with her blanket sort of got me thinking…white blanket is an awful lot like self-righteousness.
Think about it…Caroline has a blanket that she loves. She doesn’t see its flaws. She doesn’t see the gaping holes, the dingy color. She has no idea how ugly the blanket really is. But I do! I look at that thing and see drool stains and holes. I see brown smudges from who knows where. Come to think of it, the thing doesn’t smell very fresh either.
It’s that way with our own self-righteousness. Sometimes we can become “smug” in our views, look down on people because of something they do, or don’t do, set ourselves up as judge of all that’s right or wrong, or consider ourselves always right. The thing is – we may never even overtly know this, but other people do. Our self-righteousness is so crystal clear to others. Others see the holes, the ugliness, the smelliness that we so blindly feel good about.
Since our hearts are “deceitful above all things” self-righteousness is something to which we are all prone. Christians and non-Christians alike.
Here is where the blanket/self-righteousness analogy breaks down a little bit. I love that Caroline loves her blanket. I don’t want her to give it up. Heck – I don’t even really want it to be cleaner necessarily. But as Caroline ages and develops more into a young woman with ideas about how the world and the people in it operate, I pray that she would have a heart of compassion, godly discernment, and an ability to love other people “where they are” rather than judging from a heart that’s self-righteous. That is, after all, the kind of heart Jesus had.
After all, self righteousness is much, much more ugly than the tattered old blanket of her childhood.
Worthless Things
With 3 weeks of homeschooling under our belts, I feel like I can return to my computer. Over the last 3 weeks I’ve gone days without even turning it on, let alone checking e-mail. I can already tell, though, that I like homeschooling. It makes the day a bit “busier” and I don’t always get done what I aim to get done (then again, I didn’t reach those goals very often BEFORE the homeschooling, either), but I have a sense of satisfaction that I can’t really describe. Plus I’ve spent some good time with Mason, and he’s pretty cool.
I feel like I’ve been on a large learning curve with all this, and God seems to be taking me to places in my heart that I really don’t want to see. I’ll be honest – it’s ugly. The Father has been sweetly teaching me to trust him through my own discontentment. I don’t really want to get into all the particulars of the struggle, but suffice it to say that this is probably a place we’ve all been at one time or another…discontentment with what we have or don’t have, be it stuff/money, relationships, respect, children/family, etc. Discontentment is like a festering sore which just gets worse until it is addressed.
A wise woman (Cathy Tanner) once told me that true contentment is believing that where God has you, or what you are experiencing is His best for you. I believe that to be true. It’s not that I’m thinking to myself, “Why does she have ________ while I only have _______?” No, it’s more along the lines of thinking deep, deep in my heart, “Certainly this can’t be IT?? This can’t be the BEST, can it?” I know that sort of flies in the face of what I just said I believed to be true a couple lines above here. Oh, well. I didn’t say it made sense. Discontentment rarely does.
SO, this is my prayer…turn my eyes away from worthless things, Lord. Things that make me forget your goodness to me over and over and over again. Besides, those things that have the most worth…I’ve already got those.
Bless ya!
I feel like I’ve been on a large learning curve with all this, and God seems to be taking me to places in my heart that I really don’t want to see. I’ll be honest – it’s ugly. The Father has been sweetly teaching me to trust him through my own discontentment. I don’t really want to get into all the particulars of the struggle, but suffice it to say that this is probably a place we’ve all been at one time or another…discontentment with what we have or don’t have, be it stuff/money, relationships, respect, children/family, etc. Discontentment is like a festering sore which just gets worse until it is addressed.
A wise woman (Cathy Tanner) once told me that true contentment is believing that where God has you, or what you are experiencing is His best for you. I believe that to be true. It’s not that I’m thinking to myself, “Why does she have ________ while I only have _______?” No, it’s more along the lines of thinking deep, deep in my heart, “Certainly this can’t be IT?? This can’t be the BEST, can it?” I know that sort of flies in the face of what I just said I believed to be true a couple lines above here. Oh, well. I didn’t say it made sense. Discontentment rarely does.
SO, this is my prayer…turn my eyes away from worthless things, Lord. Things that make me forget your goodness to me over and over and over again. Besides, those things that have the most worth…I’ve already got those.
Bless ya!
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Are You There, God? It's Me, Ethan.
Ethan has a little plastic ipod he carries around as if it were a cell phone.
If he's awake, the device is almost glued to his ear. On it, he talks to all sorts of people:
Hi Nanna...Hey Uncle Chris...Hi Paw Paw...you get the picture.
The other day I caught him - sippy cup in one hand, plastic ipod in the other - just talking away.
"Ethan, are you talking to Daddy?"
"No ma'am."
"Are you talking to Nanna?"
"No, Mom."
"Well, who are you talking to?"
"God."
Bless ya!
If he's awake, the device is almost glued to his ear. On it, he talks to all sorts of people:
Hi Nanna...Hey Uncle Chris...Hi Paw Paw...you get the picture.
The other day I caught him - sippy cup in one hand, plastic ipod in the other - just talking away.
"Ethan, are you talking to Daddy?"
"No ma'am."
"Are you talking to Nanna?"
"No, Mom."
"Well, who are you talking to?"
"God."
Bless ya!
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Do You REALLY Love Me?
These are the sounds I heard from the kitchen this morning. Molly and Ethan were having a very deep theological discussion:
“Ethan, do you love me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you REALLY love me?”
“Yes.”
“You do?! Yeah! Do you love Caroline?”
“Yes.”
“Good! Do you love Mason?”
“Yes."
“Do love you Mommy?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yes, you love Mommy. Ethan, do you love Satan?”
“Yes.”
“Oh! Ethan, say "no"! Say "no"! You’re not supposed to love Satan…say “no” to Satan, Ethan! Say "no" to him and say “yes” to Jesus.”
You know what I think? I think it would be nice to have Molly follow me around all day asking me about the different things I so clearly love more than Jesus at times.
“Do you really love holding grudges, Mommy?”
“Do you really love serving yourself over everyone else?”
“Say “no”, Mommy! And say “yes” to Jesus!”
It’s cute…the way they hold up the mirror. My children are always reminding me (whether they know it or not) how much I need the Lord.
Bless ya!
“Ethan, do you love me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you REALLY love me?”
“Yes.”
“You do?! Yeah! Do you love Caroline?”
“Yes.”
“Good! Do you love Mason?”
“Yes."
“Do love you Mommy?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yes, you love Mommy. Ethan, do you love Satan?”
“Yes.”
“Oh! Ethan, say "no"! Say "no"! You’re not supposed to love Satan…say “no” to Satan, Ethan! Say "no" to him and say “yes” to Jesus.”
You know what I think? I think it would be nice to have Molly follow me around all day asking me about the different things I so clearly love more than Jesus at times.
“Do you really love holding grudges, Mommy?”
“Do you really love serving yourself over everyone else?”
“Say “no”, Mommy! And say “yes” to Jesus!”
It’s cute…the way they hold up the mirror. My children are always reminding me (whether they know it or not) how much I need the Lord.
Bless ya!
PS - Here are the kids in the woods on our recent trip to Tennessee..
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Pass the Sunscreen
We have been out of pocket for a couple of weeks: One week we spent in the Tennessee mountains on vacation, one week was spent painting the exterior of our home (no, it's still not done), and this week we've had VBS at our church. Thus the silent treatment. I'm not trying to be passive aggresive, I promise.
The week before we left for Tennessee, Mason came home one day after about 5 hours at the pool with a friend. He looked like a lobster (a red one – Michael informed me, then, that not all lobsters are red. I love my sweet marine biology expert!).
We applied the aloe, we slept without a shirt, we discussed, again, the basics of smart sun safety. Mason had worn a swim shirt to the pool with lots of sunscreen on any exposed areas, but when he got to the pool he removed that shirt. A brain fart, I guess.
Mason was in pain for several days. Real pain. Any contact with his shoulder region left him virtually crumpled up in a tearful heap. My son is very, very fair skinned. I’m going to go ahead and say it: he’s a white boy – like his dad. Lily white to tomato ripe.
A couple days later the blisters appeared. Not those mindless, insignificant ones that you can sort of scrape off with your fingers. These blisters were big – as big as 2 or 3 quarters next to each other. I broke them, but they came back…then came back again. The skin then peeled and left Mason’s shoulders bright red raw pieces of meat. It was all just so lovely.
Yes, a good lesson was learned.
Actually, a couple lessons.
The first lesson is this: sunscreen is necessary. The sun can be painfully harmful to you if you don’t take precautions.
The second lesson was something that I was thinking of while writing in my journal. This whole experience is a good picture, to me, of the “upside down” kingdom-ness of the Christian life: when we are bound, we are free.
If I am bound to my toothbrush, I am free from cavities…but if I choose to throw off the burden of my toothbrush (which I am able to do if I so choose), the result will be my being bound to cavities all my life – painful things that will harm my mouth and ultimately affect my life in a negative way.
If I choose to be free from the burden of sunscreen application, I will become a slave to sunburn. Certain freedoms require some bondages, and some bondages allow wonderful freedom (that’s a line from 30 Days to Understanding the Bible – it’s not original).
This was a great illustration for Mason of the necessity and importance of clinging to the Lord. Sometimes people may think that Christians don’t have any fun, or that Christians are always having to follow certain rules, I told him. But in fact, Christians should be the most free people in the world. If we are bound (clinging to, holding tightly to, reveling in being an adopted child of) the Lord, we are able to be and live exactly as He intended us to: FREELY .
I love this quote by Steve Brown of Key Life Ministries. He says, “Live your life with such freedom and joy that uptight Christians will doubt your salvation.”
So, pass the SPF 60!
Bless ya!
The week before we left for Tennessee, Mason came home one day after about 5 hours at the pool with a friend. He looked like a lobster (a red one – Michael informed me, then, that not all lobsters are red. I love my sweet marine biology expert!).
We applied the aloe, we slept without a shirt, we discussed, again, the basics of smart sun safety. Mason had worn a swim shirt to the pool with lots of sunscreen on any exposed areas, but when he got to the pool he removed that shirt. A brain fart, I guess.
Mason was in pain for several days. Real pain. Any contact with his shoulder region left him virtually crumpled up in a tearful heap. My son is very, very fair skinned. I’m going to go ahead and say it: he’s a white boy – like his dad. Lily white to tomato ripe.
A couple days later the blisters appeared. Not those mindless, insignificant ones that you can sort of scrape off with your fingers. These blisters were big – as big as 2 or 3 quarters next to each other. I broke them, but they came back…then came back again. The skin then peeled and left Mason’s shoulders bright red raw pieces of meat. It was all just so lovely.
Yes, a good lesson was learned.
Actually, a couple lessons.
The first lesson is this: sunscreen is necessary. The sun can be painfully harmful to you if you don’t take precautions.
The second lesson was something that I was thinking of while writing in my journal. This whole experience is a good picture, to me, of the “upside down” kingdom-ness of the Christian life: when we are bound, we are free.
If I am bound to my toothbrush, I am free from cavities…but if I choose to throw off the burden of my toothbrush (which I am able to do if I so choose), the result will be my being bound to cavities all my life – painful things that will harm my mouth and ultimately affect my life in a negative way.
If I choose to be free from the burden of sunscreen application, I will become a slave to sunburn. Certain freedoms require some bondages, and some bondages allow wonderful freedom (that’s a line from 30 Days to Understanding the Bible – it’s not original).
This was a great illustration for Mason of the necessity and importance of clinging to the Lord. Sometimes people may think that Christians don’t have any fun, or that Christians are always having to follow certain rules, I told him. But in fact, Christians should be the most free people in the world. If we are bound (clinging to, holding tightly to, reveling in being an adopted child of) the Lord, we are able to be and live exactly as He intended us to: FREELY .
I love this quote by Steve Brown of Key Life Ministries. He says, “Live your life with such freedom and joy that uptight Christians will doubt your salvation.”
So, pass the SPF 60!
Bless ya!
Friday, June 27, 2008
The Blessing of Needing Another
In July of 2006, after plans were in the works for Michael to become Pastor of Monroeville Presbyterian Church, our family made a trip to Monroeville to do a little house hunting. We arrived on a Sunday evening and made arrangements to drop the kids off at VBS on Monday morning while we looked around.
After a morning of perusing homes we returned to the church to pick up our kids and discovered something: My Caroline had made a friend – a friend that would turn out to be her “best friend”. Caroline G, as we call her, has been a fixture in our home, in our discussions or in our thoughts for nearly 2 years. This week we learned that Caroline G is moving, which has been very sad for Caroline M. It’s also been very sad for me.
A friend of mine told me once “you’ve got to have a bosom to be a bosom friend,” and I think she is exactly right. Women just desire and create an intensity in their friendships that men, well...don't. When we lived in Illinois, I had a friend named Dominai. She lived across the street from me and we were together ALL the time. She was one year older than me in school, but when we came home in the afternoons we were busy – busy watching TV or making up choreography to various REO Speedwagon tunes (Don't stop...Believing...Hold on to that Feelayayain'...). In the summer we traded clothes, played goofy games, spent the night at each other’s houses, played kick-the-can until well past dark, and tape recorded ourselves doing all these weird dramatic sketches. We rolled our first yards together. I remember when she moved away – it was as if one big chunk of my heart was loaded into that moving van for the long trek to Atlanta. I know how Caroline feels.
Watching Caroline G and Caroline M together has been fun as well as educational. The way little girls play together shows the capacity most females have for intimate relationships. Their games are usually relational: playing house, Barbies or school, or developing REO Speedwagon choreography. Girls hold hands and touch a lot (Michael used to think it was sooo weird that I almost could NOT have a conversation with Julie without holding her hand). They enjoy each other so much, and also get into the biggest fights. They finish each other’s sentences, and then punish each other with threats: “you’re not my best friend anymore!” This dichotomy has made clear to me one thing – real friendship, as wonderful and "worth-it" as it is, is sometimes hard. Perhaps friendship is a crucible for sanctification.
All of us have a tendency toward idolatry – to get life from something other than the Lord. Friendship is such a gift, but it becomes an idol when we seek approval or affirmation from our friends, or when we put ourselves out there as or strong women who never need anyone and long only for others to need us.
Honestly, I struggle with this. I hate to ask for help. I hate to ask anyone to keep my kids for an afternoon, or accept a meal for my family when I’m sick. God is showing me that it’s the pride in me that doesn’t want to be needy. But if I don’t let others love me, I’m not really loving them, either, and in turn, I miss out on the blessing of needing another.
Caroline and Caroline became friends in the first place because one needed the other. That day at VBS, Caroline G missed her mom and she needed encouragement. Caroline M gave that to her. As we were moving to Monroeville, Caroline M needed a good, stable, long-term friend. Caroline G gave that to her. What a beautiful picture of God providing for us through each other. After all, isn’t that really the point of friendship anyway?
When the day is done, Caroline G and Caroline M love each other, despite any bickering or silly hurt feelings. They love to be together, and being together teaches them more about what it means to love, to give, to need others. And that’s just a little piece of heaven.
We’ll miss you Caroline G!
Bless ya!
After a morning of perusing homes we returned to the church to pick up our kids and discovered something: My Caroline had made a friend – a friend that would turn out to be her “best friend”. Caroline G, as we call her, has been a fixture in our home, in our discussions or in our thoughts for nearly 2 years. This week we learned that Caroline G is moving, which has been very sad for Caroline M. It’s also been very sad for me.
A friend of mine told me once “you’ve got to have a bosom to be a bosom friend,” and I think she is exactly right. Women just desire and create an intensity in their friendships that men, well...don't. When we lived in Illinois, I had a friend named Dominai. She lived across the street from me and we were together ALL the time. She was one year older than me in school, but when we came home in the afternoons we were busy – busy watching TV or making up choreography to various REO Speedwagon tunes (Don't stop...Believing...Hold on to that Feelayayain'...). In the summer we traded clothes, played goofy games, spent the night at each other’s houses, played kick-the-can until well past dark, and tape recorded ourselves doing all these weird dramatic sketches. We rolled our first yards together. I remember when she moved away – it was as if one big chunk of my heart was loaded into that moving van for the long trek to Atlanta. I know how Caroline feels.
Watching Caroline G and Caroline M together has been fun as well as educational. The way little girls play together shows the capacity most females have for intimate relationships. Their games are usually relational: playing house, Barbies or school, or developing REO Speedwagon choreography. Girls hold hands and touch a lot (Michael used to think it was sooo weird that I almost could NOT have a conversation with Julie without holding her hand). They enjoy each other so much, and also get into the biggest fights. They finish each other’s sentences, and then punish each other with threats: “you’re not my best friend anymore!” This dichotomy has made clear to me one thing – real friendship, as wonderful and "worth-it" as it is, is sometimes hard. Perhaps friendship is a crucible for sanctification.
All of us have a tendency toward idolatry – to get life from something other than the Lord. Friendship is such a gift, but it becomes an idol when we seek approval or affirmation from our friends, or when we put ourselves out there as or strong women who never need anyone and long only for others to need us.
Honestly, I struggle with this. I hate to ask for help. I hate to ask anyone to keep my kids for an afternoon, or accept a meal for my family when I’m sick. God is showing me that it’s the pride in me that doesn’t want to be needy. But if I don’t let others love me, I’m not really loving them, either, and in turn, I miss out on the blessing of needing another.
Caroline and Caroline became friends in the first place because one needed the other. That day at VBS, Caroline G missed her mom and she needed encouragement. Caroline M gave that to her. As we were moving to Monroeville, Caroline M needed a good, stable, long-term friend. Caroline G gave that to her. What a beautiful picture of God providing for us through each other. After all, isn’t that really the point of friendship anyway?
When the day is done, Caroline G and Caroline M love each other, despite any bickering or silly hurt feelings. They love to be together, and being together teaches them more about what it means to love, to give, to need others. And that’s just a little piece of heaven.
We’ll miss you Caroline G!
Bless ya!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
The OTHER Kind
Michael - don't read this...
Earlier today, after finishing our chores and watching one episode of "Little House on the Praire", I had the girls find a book and read for an hour. I typed away on the computer (writing my previous post, "Trifling Risks") while Caroline had her nose deep inside "The Chicken Pox Panic" - she loves to read.
Caroline looked up from her book and asked me, "Mommy, does Molly know about periods?"
"I don't think so Caroline...do YOU know about periods?" I asked in reply.
"Sure, mom, I know all about them," She said.
"Well, Caroline, I'm surpised to hear you say that. Wow! I had really hoped that you and I would one day have a discussion about that. Who told you about periods?" I asked.
"Mrs. Meyers. She told me last year when I was in kindergarten," Caroline answered.
"Oh, my goodness, Caroline! I am so shocked! I just can't believe she thought you were old enough for that sort of discussion - and to not send a note home or anything...that is very strange. Why didn't you tell me about this before now?" I bellowed.
"Was she not supposed to do that? She told our whole class. She told us about question marks, too."
Bless ya!
Earlier today, after finishing our chores and watching one episode of "Little House on the Praire", I had the girls find a book and read for an hour. I typed away on the computer (writing my previous post, "Trifling Risks") while Caroline had her nose deep inside "The Chicken Pox Panic" - she loves to read.
Caroline looked up from her book and asked me, "Mommy, does Molly know about periods?"
"I don't think so Caroline...do YOU know about periods?" I asked in reply.
"Sure, mom, I know all about them," She said.
"Well, Caroline, I'm surpised to hear you say that. Wow! I had really hoped that you and I would one day have a discussion about that. Who told you about periods?" I asked.
"Mrs. Meyers. She told me last year when I was in kindergarten," Caroline answered.
"Oh, my goodness, Caroline! I am so shocked! I just can't believe she thought you were old enough for that sort of discussion - and to not send a note home or anything...that is very strange. Why didn't you tell me about this before now?" I bellowed.
"Was she not supposed to do that? She told our whole class. She told us about question marks, too."
Bless ya!
Trifling Risks
Michael has decided that this summer Mason will take some steps "out of the nest". He will now be allowed to ride his bike to swim team practice as well as our church, which is right off the square (about a mile away). There are sidewalks almost the entire way both places, but I've still been nervous about it. I told Michael that if Mason was going to be allowed to do this, I wanted him to be able to have some form of communication - a walkie-talkie, a cell phone - something.
We borrowed walkie-talkies from a neighbor, but they wouldn't reach all the way to the square. We investigated adding a cell phone to our plan, but it would be an extra $10 per month. Not gonna happen. It seemed we had hit a wall in the communication options search, so I rested easier, hoping the whole suject might be tabled until next year.
Imagine my dismay when Michael walked in yesterday evening with a "go-phone". I didn't even know such a device existed.
Michael brought the phone home (my favorite line from ET) last night - a complete surprise to Mason, who was beside himself with joy. He tinkered and pressed buttons and got it all set up to his liking. Then I knew: the next morning he would be wanting to take off on his own and head to swim practice, phone-in-hand.
This morning over a cup of coffee I was writing in my journal while Mason was all aflutter around me. He packed his goggles, towel and (of course) his phone into his backpack and waited eagerly for his departure time.
Before he left I gave him strict instructions: call me as soon as you get there; call me when you are about to come home. Stop at stop signs, look both ways, pay attention. Then, Michael quizzed him: what should you do if _________________ ? Feeling good about things, we sent him off.
You know what? I know it's just not that big a deal. The pool isn't far. Really, the square isn't that far, either. There's just something a little unsettling about sending my child - my nine year old child - out on his own.
The Lord brought a couple of facts to heart as I sat with my coffee this morning. First, He reminded me that He, himself, loves my son. He loves him and has a plan for his life. He loves him, in fact, even more than I love him. Second, I was reminded that my boy - and all boys have to face "dangers" as part of their growth. It's just part of how God made them. Last spring I walked outside to find Mason and a friend at least 30 feet up my neighbor's magnolia tree. I have this great quote from RM Ballantyne's book "The Gorilla Hunters" on my kitchen cabinet. It says:
"Boys should be inured from childhood to trifling risks and slight dangers of every possible description, such as tumbling into ponds and off of trees, etc., in order to strengthen their nervous system...They ought to practice leaping off heights into deep water. They ought never to hesitate to cross a stream over a narrow unsafe plank for fear of falling. They ought never to decline to climb a tree to pull fruit merely because there is a possibility of their falling off and breaking their necks. I firmly believe that boys were intended to encounter all kinds of risks, in order to prepare them to meet and grapple with risks and dangers incident to man's career with cool, cautious self-posession..."
I watched him peddle away, said a quick prayer, then returned to my writing.
A few minutes later I heard the wonderful sound of the phone.
"Hey Mom!...I made it!!"
Bless ya!
We borrowed walkie-talkies from a neighbor, but they wouldn't reach all the way to the square. We investigated adding a cell phone to our plan, but it would be an extra $10 per month. Not gonna happen. It seemed we had hit a wall in the communication options search, so I rested easier, hoping the whole suject might be tabled until next year.
Imagine my dismay when Michael walked in yesterday evening with a "go-phone". I didn't even know such a device existed.
Michael brought the phone home (my favorite line from ET) last night - a complete surprise to Mason, who was beside himself with joy. He tinkered and pressed buttons and got it all set up to his liking. Then I knew: the next morning he would be wanting to take off on his own and head to swim practice, phone-in-hand.
This morning over a cup of coffee I was writing in my journal while Mason was all aflutter around me. He packed his goggles, towel and (of course) his phone into his backpack and waited eagerly for his departure time.
Before he left I gave him strict instructions: call me as soon as you get there; call me when you are about to come home. Stop at stop signs, look both ways, pay attention. Then, Michael quizzed him: what should you do if _________________ ? Feeling good about things, we sent him off.
You know what? I know it's just not that big a deal. The pool isn't far. Really, the square isn't that far, either. There's just something a little unsettling about sending my child - my nine year old child - out on his own.
The Lord brought a couple of facts to heart as I sat with my coffee this morning. First, He reminded me that He, himself, loves my son. He loves him and has a plan for his life. He loves him, in fact, even more than I love him. Second, I was reminded that my boy - and all boys have to face "dangers" as part of their growth. It's just part of how God made them. Last spring I walked outside to find Mason and a friend at least 30 feet up my neighbor's magnolia tree. I have this great quote from RM Ballantyne's book "The Gorilla Hunters" on my kitchen cabinet. It says:
"Boys should be inured from childhood to trifling risks and slight dangers of every possible description, such as tumbling into ponds and off of trees, etc., in order to strengthen their nervous system...They ought to practice leaping off heights into deep water. They ought never to hesitate to cross a stream over a narrow unsafe plank for fear of falling. They ought never to decline to climb a tree to pull fruit merely because there is a possibility of their falling off and breaking their necks. I firmly believe that boys were intended to encounter all kinds of risks, in order to prepare them to meet and grapple with risks and dangers incident to man's career with cool, cautious self-posession..."
I watched him peddle away, said a quick prayer, then returned to my writing.
A few minutes later I heard the wonderful sound of the phone.
"Hey Mom!...I made it!!"
Bless ya!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Happy Daddy's Day!
I'd like to say "Happy Father's Day" to two very important dads in my life.
First, to my own father, Butch Carden. I love you, dad! Everytime I look at you I see God's hand and his work in your life. Christopher and I have benfitted from your help throughout our lives...I hope you have a terrific day.
Also, to Michael, my beloved. You deserve a day to celebrate all that you are and do - because we both know I don't do a good enough job of showing you my appreciation. Mason, Caroline, Molly and Ethan are so blessed to have you as a strong, present influence in their lives. Your love for them, and for me, inspires us all and is a safe harbor.
You both are great...and loved...and appreciated.
Bless ya!
First, to my own father, Butch Carden. I love you, dad! Everytime I look at you I see God's hand and his work in your life. Christopher and I have benfitted from your help throughout our lives...I hope you have a terrific day.
Also, to Michael, my beloved. You deserve a day to celebrate all that you are and do - because we both know I don't do a good enough job of showing you my appreciation. Mason, Caroline, Molly and Ethan are so blessed to have you as a strong, present influence in their lives. Your love for them, and for me, inspires us all and is a safe harbor.
You both are great...and loved...and appreciated.
Bless ya!
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Lysol and Lunchables
Getting away from the routine of life is soooo good for the soul, isn’t it?
We left last Sunday for General Assembly in Dallas, Texas. Our intention was to leave Monroeville and drive to Houston, spend a couple nights with Michael’s sister and family there, then drive on to Dallas Tuesday morning.
We got about 15 minutes down the road when Michael got a call – both Marissa (his sister) and her oldest child had a stomach virus.
Now, if you don’t know much about the MacCaughelty kids, know this: if there is a stomach bug or some other creepy form of germ within a 12 mile radius, they will catch it…oftentimes all four at once.
We turned the car around.
I really didn’t want to go back home because I had prepared the house for the carpet cleaning that would take place in our absence, plus the kids were really psyched. We made a couple calls, found a place to stay in Birmingham and reserved a room in Dallas for a night early.
We hit Birmingham around dinner time, and we were able to make the most of it: dinner with Roger and Lynne Means (Lynne is like my older sister), Herbie and Ashley (another one of Michael’s sisters) and family, then a visit with Steve and Tracy Whitner & family at their house. Finally we made it to Michael’s mom’s house where we visited a while and then hit the sack.
We were up at 5:30am the next day, packed and on our way out between 6:30am and 7:00am. The day was great. The kids did great, the weather was great, no traffic, etc.
We stopped along the way at a Walgreen's becasue I had to pick up a few things. Sunglasses (since I evidently lost mine somewhere in Birmingham), hand sanitizer (our car bottle was nearly empty), and lysol (to spray the hotel room with before we descended on it. I know that probably sounds crazy...it's just a thing I do. We don't want any of those nasty bugs, now do we!?).
We hit Dallas about 8pm, easily found our hotel, sprayed the room down and settled in for the night. Tuesday morning we took the shuttle to the Hyatt, where GA was being held, and the fun began.
The kids had a great time! The first afternoon they went to the Aquarium, then saw an Imax movie. The second day was VBS, followed by the Dallas Zoo, then Thursday was VBS followed by the Science Exploreum thing-a-ma-bob. They saw all their friends from last year, made some new ones and absolutely loved every minute of it.
While Michael was in seminars and meetings, I entertained myself. The Hyatt sold Starbucks, so there ya go. I also was able to meet up with some pastor’s wives from GAs before, and met some new friends as well – Hi, Rae!
The Hyatt was right there at Dealey Plaza. I took a picture of the “grassy knoll”, got to see the Texas Schoolbook Depository, and the big white “X” on the street where JFK was shot. It was very surreal.
The seminars I went to were wonderful, and the conversations I was able to have with other women in the same “place” as I am were refreshing and inspiring. I learned, again, that the things I struggle with – as a pastor’s wife and regular old “sinner” – are not particular to me. I heard lots of stories this week, and I was reminded that every church is flawed (because they are made up of selfish, sinful people like me), but that God has blessed our family with a healthy, wonderful church who loves us and cares for us so well, is patient with our mistakes and faux pas, and is very supportive.
Our evenings were spent in the pool or just hanging out in the room. Good times.
We loaded up Friday morning for the ride back home, our souls refreshed, our children tired from a week’s worth of fun. As I sat sipping my coffee in the breakfast area of the hotel, I said to Michael, “this has been the best, easiest trip we have ever had as a family…”
Dum-dum-dum-duuuuh! (That’s supposed to be foreboding music). Cue the dryer! It’s time for a little opportunity for sanctification!!!
Driving along. We hit Jackson, Mississippi at about 5pm. Not a good plan, but what could we do? The Friday evening traffic was horrible. I was driving while Michael took a nap. Ethan started to get whiny, but I just figured he was sick of sitting in his car seat. He was sick all right, but not of the car seat. Let’s just say this: in our experience, “Jackson” will now be referred to as “Yack-son”.
Let me back up and interject a bit of info here: Michael and I politely disagreed about where to stop for lunch. (Actually, he was more polite than I, my having called his idea “asinine”.) He wanted to go to Wal Mart where we could pick up a Lunchable, eat it in the car, and also grab some snacks, since we were out at this point. (Another aside…we packed our snacks instead of stopping at gas stations. Hmmmm. I didn’t get one gas station snack to tide me over. Well, except for that one I bought during a bathroom stop while everyone else was in the car. I kept that knowledge (and those m&ms) to myself.). My idea was to stop at a Wendy’s or something and let the kids run around a bit. I have an aversion to lunchables after a not-so-lovely experience as a kid. We went with his idea.
As I said, the whining started when we hit Yackson. I am driving in bumper-to-bumper Yackson traffic when – you guessed it! We get to see the Lunchable again!
And again.
And again.
And yet again.
Michael yells at me to pull over, but I see a turn up ahead that will get us off the road. A battle of the wills ensues, during which, Ethan is crying, Caroline is crying, Molly wants to know when we’re stopping for dinner, and “Alvin and the Chipmunks” is blaring in the background.
I submit (let me be clear: only outwardly. Inside I was reveling in my perceived rightness. Sorry, Honey. I know now that was not the time to argue).
We clean Ethan up as best as we can. We are still a good 3 hours from home. Maybe it was just something he ate? We really just don’t have much with which to be able to clean him. Michael used his T-shirt…then his undershirt. He was standing on the side of the road, in Yackson, during rush hour, with a bare chest. We looked like “country come to town” to passersby, I’m sure. Beach towels…pillowcases. You cannot believe this scene, I promise you. Between Yackson and Monroeville, Ethan has on 3 different sets of clothes, Michael had on 4 different shirts. If my baby hadn’t been so sick and pitiful, it would have been comical. I’m trying to set it all up for you and be descriptive, without being too gross. I hope I’ve done my job.
Needless to say, today I’m spending most of the day doing laundry.
As we were pulling into Monroeville, I commented to Michael how funny it was that I had just remarked to him that morning about how easy the trip had been. He then reminded me of a couple of things: One, Ethan didn’t get sick on the way TO Dallas, but rather on the way HOME. God’s grace to us. Second, Ethan got sick in YACKSON rather than in SHREVEPORT. God’s grace to us. Third, no one ELSE got sick, just Ethan. God’s grace to us yet again. We had a safe trip, a fun trip, a refreshing trip, and we get to come home to a place we love and want to be. I also learned that no matter how much I try to make things go my way (i.e. Lysol in the hotel room...Ethan probably picked up that bug from being in the GA nursery after all that spraying I did of our room) The father is ultimately concerned with our hearts and teaching us to depend on him when things are tough. Even a little bit. That's his grace to us, too. God is good!
Bless ya!
We left last Sunday for General Assembly in Dallas, Texas. Our intention was to leave Monroeville and drive to Houston, spend a couple nights with Michael’s sister and family there, then drive on to Dallas Tuesday morning.
We got about 15 minutes down the road when Michael got a call – both Marissa (his sister) and her oldest child had a stomach virus.
Now, if you don’t know much about the MacCaughelty kids, know this: if there is a stomach bug or some other creepy form of germ within a 12 mile radius, they will catch it…oftentimes all four at once.
We turned the car around.
I really didn’t want to go back home because I had prepared the house for the carpet cleaning that would take place in our absence, plus the kids were really psyched. We made a couple calls, found a place to stay in Birmingham and reserved a room in Dallas for a night early.
We hit Birmingham around dinner time, and we were able to make the most of it: dinner with Roger and Lynne Means (Lynne is like my older sister), Herbie and Ashley (another one of Michael’s sisters) and family, then a visit with Steve and Tracy Whitner & family at their house. Finally we made it to Michael’s mom’s house where we visited a while and then hit the sack.
We were up at 5:30am the next day, packed and on our way out between 6:30am and 7:00am. The day was great. The kids did great, the weather was great, no traffic, etc.
We stopped along the way at a Walgreen's becasue I had to pick up a few things. Sunglasses (since I evidently lost mine somewhere in Birmingham), hand sanitizer (our car bottle was nearly empty), and lysol (to spray the hotel room with before we descended on it. I know that probably sounds crazy...it's just a thing I do. We don't want any of those nasty bugs, now do we!?).
We hit Dallas about 8pm, easily found our hotel, sprayed the room down and settled in for the night. Tuesday morning we took the shuttle to the Hyatt, where GA was being held, and the fun began.
The kids had a great time! The first afternoon they went to the Aquarium, then saw an Imax movie. The second day was VBS, followed by the Dallas Zoo, then Thursday was VBS followed by the Science Exploreum thing-a-ma-bob. They saw all their friends from last year, made some new ones and absolutely loved every minute of it.
While Michael was in seminars and meetings, I entertained myself. The Hyatt sold Starbucks, so there ya go. I also was able to meet up with some pastor’s wives from GAs before, and met some new friends as well – Hi, Rae!
The Hyatt was right there at Dealey Plaza. I took a picture of the “grassy knoll”, got to see the Texas Schoolbook Depository, and the big white “X” on the street where JFK was shot. It was very surreal.
The seminars I went to were wonderful, and the conversations I was able to have with other women in the same “place” as I am were refreshing and inspiring. I learned, again, that the things I struggle with – as a pastor’s wife and regular old “sinner” – are not particular to me. I heard lots of stories this week, and I was reminded that every church is flawed (because they are made up of selfish, sinful people like me), but that God has blessed our family with a healthy, wonderful church who loves us and cares for us so well, is patient with our mistakes and faux pas, and is very supportive.
Our evenings were spent in the pool or just hanging out in the room. Good times.
We loaded up Friday morning for the ride back home, our souls refreshed, our children tired from a week’s worth of fun. As I sat sipping my coffee in the breakfast area of the hotel, I said to Michael, “this has been the best, easiest trip we have ever had as a family…”
Dum-dum-dum-duuuuh! (That’s supposed to be foreboding music). Cue the dryer! It’s time for a little opportunity for sanctification!!!
Driving along. We hit Jackson, Mississippi at about 5pm. Not a good plan, but what could we do? The Friday evening traffic was horrible. I was driving while Michael took a nap. Ethan started to get whiny, but I just figured he was sick of sitting in his car seat. He was sick all right, but not of the car seat. Let’s just say this: in our experience, “Jackson” will now be referred to as “Yack-son”.
Let me back up and interject a bit of info here: Michael and I politely disagreed about where to stop for lunch. (Actually, he was more polite than I, my having called his idea “asinine”.) He wanted to go to Wal Mart where we could pick up a Lunchable, eat it in the car, and also grab some snacks, since we were out at this point. (Another aside…we packed our snacks instead of stopping at gas stations. Hmmmm. I didn’t get one gas station snack to tide me over. Well, except for that one I bought during a bathroom stop while everyone else was in the car. I kept that knowledge (and those m&ms) to myself.). My idea was to stop at a Wendy’s or something and let the kids run around a bit. I have an aversion to lunchables after a not-so-lovely experience as a kid. We went with his idea.
As I said, the whining started when we hit Yackson. I am driving in bumper-to-bumper Yackson traffic when – you guessed it! We get to see the Lunchable again!
And again.
And again.
And yet again.
Michael yells at me to pull over, but I see a turn up ahead that will get us off the road. A battle of the wills ensues, during which, Ethan is crying, Caroline is crying, Molly wants to know when we’re stopping for dinner, and “Alvin and the Chipmunks” is blaring in the background.
I submit (let me be clear: only outwardly. Inside I was reveling in my perceived rightness. Sorry, Honey. I know now that was not the time to argue).
We clean Ethan up as best as we can. We are still a good 3 hours from home. Maybe it was just something he ate? We really just don’t have much with which to be able to clean him. Michael used his T-shirt…then his undershirt. He was standing on the side of the road, in Yackson, during rush hour, with a bare chest. We looked like “country come to town” to passersby, I’m sure. Beach towels…pillowcases. You cannot believe this scene, I promise you. Between Yackson and Monroeville, Ethan has on 3 different sets of clothes, Michael had on 4 different shirts. If my baby hadn’t been so sick and pitiful, it would have been comical. I’m trying to set it all up for you and be descriptive, without being too gross. I hope I’ve done my job.
Needless to say, today I’m spending most of the day doing laundry.
As we were pulling into Monroeville, I commented to Michael how funny it was that I had just remarked to him that morning about how easy the trip had been. He then reminded me of a couple of things: One, Ethan didn’t get sick on the way TO Dallas, but rather on the way HOME. God’s grace to us. Second, Ethan got sick in YACKSON rather than in SHREVEPORT. God’s grace to us. Third, no one ELSE got sick, just Ethan. God’s grace to us yet again. We had a safe trip, a fun trip, a refreshing trip, and we get to come home to a place we love and want to be. I also learned that no matter how much I try to make things go my way (i.e. Lysol in the hotel room...Ethan probably picked up that bug from being in the GA nursery after all that spraying I did of our room) The father is ultimately concerned with our hearts and teaching us to depend on him when things are tough. Even a little bit. That's his grace to us, too. God is good!
Bless ya!
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Car Snacks and a God-Pleasing Perspective
We are leaving Sunday for Texas - General Assembly (Dallas) and visit to Michael's sister (Houston).
Time in the car - this much time, mind you - just about puts me over the edge. I don't mind car rides, but it will be 10 or so hours to Houston and at least 12 home from Dallas. I'm packing some good books (R is for Ricochet by Sue Grafton, Songs in Oridinary Time by Mary Morris, and Heaven by Randy Alcorn - I wanted to bring 1776 by McCullough, but I can't find it at the Library!!) for the ride, but I know the walls will eventually close in on me. I can't sleep in the car at all, so that's out. The kids will have dvds to watch and books to read, but they'll eventually want to wrestle and be loud (in essence: be kids).
Do you know what the saving grace will be on such a long road trip?
Gas station snacks.
Yes, I'll pack some nibbles for the ride, but let's face it: there's just something delicious about the sweet and salties perched on the shelves of small town Texaco. Overpriced treats one would never really think of consuming in day-t0-day life (at least not me, living on a budget and all) beckon to us from their dusty abodes next to the aisle of canned ham and spoons with state names on them. My favorite? Those Starbucks frappacino drinks in the refrigerator case. Of course, I can also do with a good trail mix - but I like the one that has peanut butter chips in it.
Do they still make coffee nips? If so, maybe I should just purchase a box of those and take them like medicine.
I remembered my lesson last November at the beach taking our Christmas picture. Whatever my attitude, so goes the family's. Talk about having great power...and not in a good way.
Would you do me a favor? Would you pray for me? I want to have a wonderful time - both in the car and in the heat at General Assembly. Please pray (as I prayed for myself this morning) that I would remember that God's strength is shown in my weakness and I need only to depend on him. I'm 100% sure there will be opportunities for sanctification in abundance.
Yes, even when the decibel levels are high, the road is bumpy, and my stomach is growling for Starbucks frappacino, God is good.
Bless ya!
Time in the car - this much time, mind you - just about puts me over the edge. I don't mind car rides, but it will be 10 or so hours to Houston and at least 12 home from Dallas. I'm packing some good books (R is for Ricochet by Sue Grafton, Songs in Oridinary Time by Mary Morris, and Heaven by Randy Alcorn - I wanted to bring 1776 by McCullough, but I can't find it at the Library!!) for the ride, but I know the walls will eventually close in on me. I can't sleep in the car at all, so that's out. The kids will have dvds to watch and books to read, but they'll eventually want to wrestle and be loud (in essence: be kids).
Do you know what the saving grace will be on such a long road trip?
Gas station snacks.
Yes, I'll pack some nibbles for the ride, but let's face it: there's just something delicious about the sweet and salties perched on the shelves of small town Texaco. Overpriced treats one would never really think of consuming in day-t0-day life (at least not me, living on a budget and all) beckon to us from their dusty abodes next to the aisle of canned ham and spoons with state names on them. My favorite? Those Starbucks frappacino drinks in the refrigerator case. Of course, I can also do with a good trail mix - but I like the one that has peanut butter chips in it.
Do they still make coffee nips? If so, maybe I should just purchase a box of those and take them like medicine.
I remembered my lesson last November at the beach taking our Christmas picture. Whatever my attitude, so goes the family's. Talk about having great power...and not in a good way.
Would you do me a favor? Would you pray for me? I want to have a wonderful time - both in the car and in the heat at General Assembly. Please pray (as I prayed for myself this morning) that I would remember that God's strength is shown in my weakness and I need only to depend on him. I'm 100% sure there will be opportunities for sanctification in abundance.
Yes, even when the decibel levels are high, the road is bumpy, and my stomach is growling for Starbucks frappacino, God is good.
Bless ya!
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Trial by Bug
I know many of my faithful friends have given up on me and will never visit "Crayons" again, as a result of my having neglected to post anything new or even remotely interesting in quite a while. It's a terrible disappointment to me to go to a blog I enjoy reading and find it resting on the same post week after week (example? You know who you are, Dawn Cwynar!!)
Well, this morning I have a story to tell.
Michael and I, over the course of our nearly 11 years together, have had many experiences with critters. In our first apartment we had what we called our "welcome home roach". Every time we were out for the evening, upon our return there would be a single roach waiting for us in some part of our apartment. One time we returned and didn't find our little friend waiting for us...until we pulled down our sheets to go to bed!!!
Then, in Cullman we shared our abode with a family of squirrels. We could hear them rustling and eating through our wires above our heads while we watched TV. Once when I was cooking dinner on the stove I heard a thump in the vent above the cooktop. Michael went up into the attic with (unbeknownst to me) a pellet gun. The poor squirrel had fallen down into the vent and was trapped. Michael shot him in the vent...while I was cooking dinner...and squirrel fur puffed out all over our dinner and the dead squirrel was hanging out, bloody, over whatever it was I was cooking. I think we went to Chik-fil-A that night.
Then, right after we moved here to Monroeville, I was folding clothes in the girls' room and heard a strange sound. I stopped and looked around, but found nothing. Then I heard it again...nothing. Then I saw it - a giant black and blue lizard on the carpet right next to me. I had to call Michael home from work to get it. I know now it was a "skink". But I don't care, and neither should you.
All that to say (and I could go on), we are no stangers to the occasional critter.
I have been spring cleaning. Basically, I am going room by room and giving it the thorough "once over"...baseboards, organizing drawers, cabinets and closets, vacuuming furniture, laundering curtains and anything else that's not nailed down. Sadly, it is giving life to me in some very weird ways...but that's another blog entry altogether.
Anyhoo, while cleaning the hardwood floor underneath my bed, I came across an old People magazine. (Incidentally, if anyone has any tips on how to keep the underbelly of a bed clean, I'd love to hear them! It is always a bevy of dust-bunnies). The magazine was open and face-down. I pulled it out and discovered 2 small-ish piles of what appeared to be sawdust.
"Hmmm," I thought to myself, "Maybe there is a screw or something coming loose in one of the slats - hence the piles..."
But deep in my heart I knew that wasn't it.
Later that night - about 10:30 pm or so, while Michael and I were getting ready for bed - I remembered the 2 piles of sawdust planted on Brittney Spears face and showed them to Michael. He got on his stomach and glanced under the bed. "I don't see anything!"
Well, of course you wouldn't see anything. It's dark under there, you're practically asleep. Good grief! I, then, go in search of the flashlight. With Michael on one side of the bed and I on the other, I shine the light towards the vicinity of the piles. Something's...well...something is there! I can clearly see 2 objects that appear to be antennae hanging down from the slat.
"Michael, don't you see that?" I inquire.
"Yeah...I see it," He replies.
WHAM!
Turns out, it was a bug. A weird, demonic bug with a voracious appetite for slats. He had eaten a tunnel into one part of the slat and had come out about 6 inches down-slat. How long had he been there? Your guess is as good as mine. But for however long, I had been sleeping over a demon bug and didn't know it.
OK..Michael then puts the bug into a ziplock bag so he can keep it and find out what kind it is. Meanwhile, I am on Google trying to find out myself. I NEED to know, right now at 11pm, whether or not this bug is some kind of mutant termite and if my walls are about to come crashing down. So, I smartly Google "brown wood eating bug insect white spots on back mutant termite from hell".
For some reason, Michael finds this funny (someone please tell him! THAT'S how you do Google!!). Meanwhile, bug is still twitching in side the bag. We named him "Google", then put him out of his misery. (I don't like bugs, but I'm not cruel to them! Well, except for the black widow spider that Michael caught and caged yesterday to show the kids. I insisted she be smashed). Michael has a friend who works in the entymology department at Oregon. We may have to fed-ex the bug to him.
Needless to say, my Google search gave me about 48,000 results. Not helpful.
You might think the story ends here...but you'd be wrong.
"Let's go to bed," my sweetheart suggests.
Oh, no - I'm not sleeping with that demon bug's habitat underneath me. What if it has laid millions of eggs inside my slat? What if they hatch tonight and we go crashing to the floor? Or worse...what if they move to other slats, or walls, or children? No, honey - that slat's coming off TONIGHT!
So, late as it was, my sweet, wonderful, sacrificial husband took the mattress off...and the box springs, got out his drill, unscrewed the slat, put a new slat in its place, and threw the demon-possessed slat out into the yard.
Then we got into bed and laughed.
I still have the bug. I still want to know what it is. But life has to go on. I still have many, many more closets to clean.
Bless ya!
Well, this morning I have a story to tell.
Michael and I, over the course of our nearly 11 years together, have had many experiences with critters. In our first apartment we had what we called our "welcome home roach". Every time we were out for the evening, upon our return there would be a single roach waiting for us in some part of our apartment. One time we returned and didn't find our little friend waiting for us...until we pulled down our sheets to go to bed!!!
Then, in Cullman we shared our abode with a family of squirrels. We could hear them rustling and eating through our wires above our heads while we watched TV. Once when I was cooking dinner on the stove I heard a thump in the vent above the cooktop. Michael went up into the attic with (unbeknownst to me) a pellet gun. The poor squirrel had fallen down into the vent and was trapped. Michael shot him in the vent...while I was cooking dinner...and squirrel fur puffed out all over our dinner and the dead squirrel was hanging out, bloody, over whatever it was I was cooking. I think we went to Chik-fil-A that night.
Then, right after we moved here to Monroeville, I was folding clothes in the girls' room and heard a strange sound. I stopped and looked around, but found nothing. Then I heard it again...nothing. Then I saw it - a giant black and blue lizard on the carpet right next to me. I had to call Michael home from work to get it. I know now it was a "skink". But I don't care, and neither should you.
All that to say (and I could go on), we are no stangers to the occasional critter.
I have been spring cleaning. Basically, I am going room by room and giving it the thorough "once over"...baseboards, organizing drawers, cabinets and closets, vacuuming furniture, laundering curtains and anything else that's not nailed down. Sadly, it is giving life to me in some very weird ways...but that's another blog entry altogether.
Anyhoo, while cleaning the hardwood floor underneath my bed, I came across an old People magazine. (Incidentally, if anyone has any tips on how to keep the underbelly of a bed clean, I'd love to hear them! It is always a bevy of dust-bunnies). The magazine was open and face-down. I pulled it out and discovered 2 small-ish piles of what appeared to be sawdust.
"Hmmm," I thought to myself, "Maybe there is a screw or something coming loose in one of the slats - hence the piles..."
But deep in my heart I knew that wasn't it.
Later that night - about 10:30 pm or so, while Michael and I were getting ready for bed - I remembered the 2 piles of sawdust planted on Brittney Spears face and showed them to Michael. He got on his stomach and glanced under the bed. "I don't see anything!"
Well, of course you wouldn't see anything. It's dark under there, you're practically asleep. Good grief! I, then, go in search of the flashlight. With Michael on one side of the bed and I on the other, I shine the light towards the vicinity of the piles. Something's...well...something is there! I can clearly see 2 objects that appear to be antennae hanging down from the slat.
"Michael, don't you see that?" I inquire.
"Yeah...I see it," He replies.
WHAM!
Turns out, it was a bug. A weird, demonic bug with a voracious appetite for slats. He had eaten a tunnel into one part of the slat and had come out about 6 inches down-slat. How long had he been there? Your guess is as good as mine. But for however long, I had been sleeping over a demon bug and didn't know it.
OK..Michael then puts the bug into a ziplock bag so he can keep it and find out what kind it is. Meanwhile, I am on Google trying to find out myself. I NEED to know, right now at 11pm, whether or not this bug is some kind of mutant termite and if my walls are about to come crashing down. So, I smartly Google "brown wood eating bug insect white spots on back mutant termite from hell".
For some reason, Michael finds this funny (someone please tell him! THAT'S how you do Google!!). Meanwhile, bug is still twitching in side the bag. We named him "Google", then put him out of his misery. (I don't like bugs, but I'm not cruel to them! Well, except for the black widow spider that Michael caught and caged yesterday to show the kids. I insisted she be smashed). Michael has a friend who works in the entymology department at Oregon. We may have to fed-ex the bug to him.
Needless to say, my Google search gave me about 48,000 results. Not helpful.
You might think the story ends here...but you'd be wrong.
"Let's go to bed," my sweetheart suggests.
Oh, no - I'm not sleeping with that demon bug's habitat underneath me. What if it has laid millions of eggs inside my slat? What if they hatch tonight and we go crashing to the floor? Or worse...what if they move to other slats, or walls, or children? No, honey - that slat's coming off TONIGHT!
So, late as it was, my sweet, wonderful, sacrificial husband took the mattress off...and the box springs, got out his drill, unscrewed the slat, put a new slat in its place, and threw the demon-possessed slat out into the yard.
Then we got into bed and laughed.
I still have the bug. I still want to know what it is. But life has to go on. I still have many, many more closets to clean.
Bless ya!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Over Stimulation
Hello, friends and lurkers alike (lurkers are friends, too!!). It's been a while.
The end of the school year is a busy, busy time for everyone. It's a good busy, though.
Yesterday, for example, my day went a little something like this:
7:45 drop off
8:00 upload pictures from camera onto computer at Michael's office to make room for end-of-year activities
8:30 Caroline's choir performance at Monroeville Middle
10:00 Caroline's choir performance at Community Center
11:15 Caroline's choir party at McDonald's (I'm still a bit jittery)
12:20 Ethan lays down for a nap, I make grocery list
1:30 Ethan's nap is over, and off we go to Wal Mart (I'm still a bit jittery) to buy "stuff", including the "stuff" for Michael and the kids' camping trip tomorrow
2:50 Pick up kids from school and head to Winn Dixie for second half of shopping trip
4:00 Homework, snacks, costume changes
4:30 Caroline's friend (Caroline G) calls to see if Caroline can come over...yes, can your mom come get her?
4:44 Notice Molly's eye...looks like possible staff infection...call to Dr...they are already closed...call to after hours answering service...leave my information
5:00 PTO Officers' Meeting...doctor calls back about 5:10 (during meeting)
6:00 Go pick up Caroline from Caroline G's
6:20 To Rite Aid to pick up prescriptions
6:30 Back home, start dinner
7:10 Dinner and dessert...strawberry shortcake, yum!
7:40 Baths/showers
8:00 stories/prayer
8:15 Rip (see previous posts)
9:00 Watch DVR of American Idol - IF I voted, I would vote for Archuleta.
9:45 Asleep on couch
Today is going to be much the same. Today is awards day at school, we'll have to pack for the camping trip today (because tomorrow is field day, plus there's a funeral reception at our church in the afternoon), and Ethan and I have to pack for Birmingham. I like being busy, though sometimes it stresses me out. Here is a VDO of Caroline's solo. It made me cry.
Bless ya!
The end of the school year is a busy, busy time for everyone. It's a good busy, though.
Yesterday, for example, my day went a little something like this:
7:45 drop off
8:00 upload pictures from camera onto computer at Michael's office to make room for end-of-year activities
8:30 Caroline's choir performance at Monroeville Middle
10:00 Caroline's choir performance at Community Center
11:15 Caroline's choir party at McDonald's (I'm still a bit jittery)
12:20 Ethan lays down for a nap, I make grocery list
1:30 Ethan's nap is over, and off we go to Wal Mart (I'm still a bit jittery) to buy "stuff", including the "stuff" for Michael and the kids' camping trip tomorrow
2:50 Pick up kids from school and head to Winn Dixie for second half of shopping trip
4:00 Homework, snacks, costume changes
4:30 Caroline's friend (Caroline G) calls to see if Caroline can come over...yes, can your mom come get her?
4:44 Notice Molly's eye...looks like possible staff infection...call to Dr...they are already closed...call to after hours answering service...leave my information
5:00 PTO Officers' Meeting...doctor calls back about 5:10 (during meeting)
6:00 Go pick up Caroline from Caroline G's
6:20 To Rite Aid to pick up prescriptions
6:30 Back home, start dinner
7:10 Dinner and dessert...strawberry shortcake, yum!
7:40 Baths/showers
8:00 stories/prayer
8:15 Rip (see previous posts)
9:00 Watch DVR of American Idol - IF I voted, I would vote for Archuleta.
9:45 Asleep on couch
Today is going to be much the same. Today is awards day at school, we'll have to pack for the camping trip today (because tomorrow is field day, plus there's a funeral reception at our church in the afternoon), and Ethan and I have to pack for Birmingham. I like being busy, though sometimes it stresses me out. Here is a VDO of Caroline's solo. It made me cry.
Bless ya!
Monday, May 19, 2008
Life...
Life has been really hectic...crazy...wild...busy. Pick your adjective.
When I find a moment or two - maybe this week - I am SOOO gonna blog.
Bless ya!
When I find a moment or two - maybe this week - I am SOOO gonna blog.
Bless ya!
Monday, May 12, 2008
Mother's Day Recap
I had a wonderful Mother's day. It was hard and sad at a couple of points (which I plan on blogging about...hopefully tomorrow), but my children and sweet husband made me feel so special.
Michael made lunch on Sunday...he set the alarm clock to go off at midnight Saturday so he could get up and put something in the crock pot - a roast. For lunch we had the most delicious French Dip sandwiches - I absolutely have never had a FD that was as good as the ones he made! The children gave me homemade cards, picture frames, refrigerator magnets, dollar store lotion. All my favorite things. Michael gave me the most wonderful gift, though - he's going to take the kids camping...and I can do whatever I want! I'll miss the camping...but time away makes me a better mom. I'm like the cordless screwdriver...20 hours of charging for 10 minutes of use (I read that in "Blue Like Jazz" and laughed because it was so apt).
How was YOUR Mother's Day? No dustbusters, I hope?
Bless ya!
Michael made lunch on Sunday...he set the alarm clock to go off at midnight Saturday so he could get up and put something in the crock pot - a roast. For lunch we had the most delicious French Dip sandwiches - I absolutely have never had a FD that was as good as the ones he made! The children gave me homemade cards, picture frames, refrigerator magnets, dollar store lotion. All my favorite things. Michael gave me the most wonderful gift, though - he's going to take the kids camping...and I can do whatever I want! I'll miss the camping...but time away makes me a better mom. I'm like the cordless screwdriver...20 hours of charging for 10 minutes of use (I read that in "Blue Like Jazz" and laughed because it was so apt).
How was YOUR Mother's Day? No dustbusters, I hope?
Bless ya!
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Mother's Day Tips
This is a note to all the men who read this blog.
Actually, I know there aren't any...but just let me have my fun.
A note to all men: Mother's Day is coming up. Don't blow it. here are a few of, what I believe, are the most helpful tips you will ever need.
Tip #1 - Think ahead. You still have 3 days...but you only have 3 days. If you haven't taken action, or at least spent some time planning, you are already behind schedule. A Saturday night trip to Wal-Mart or Food World is not going to serve you well. The cards are picked over and the pre-arranged bouquets have leaves that are browning. We know if you've saved this important task for the last minute.
Tip #2 - Think through meal planning. In my opinion, any meals your wife has to cook/prepare are actual withdrawals from the emotional bank. Breakfast in bed? Great. Lunch out after church? A no brainer. Dinner is really a judgement call. My advice? Know your wife. If you made a late-evening trip to the local grocery store floral department, I'd say dinner, too.
Tip #3 - Think before gift buying. The old "stand by's" may not be the best option anymore. Be creative. Does your wife like practical gifts? Then you are in luck...but remember that "practical" is not a synonym for "dustbuster". Practical gifts are those little lovelies that are not only fun to look at, but useful, as well. The gift doesn't even have to be expensive!! The key is to use your imagination! For your benefit, here are some bad gift ideas: dustbuster (I already mentioned this), any cleaning accoutrement whatsoever, pots and pans (unless the box clearly says "Calphalon - complete set" somewhere on it), grill tools, or anything at all that could be used on the lawn (save gardening stuff...if she's into that).
Tip #4 - Think "time management". What are your plans for the day? Don't have any? Get some. Will you be having a picnic? Making a trip to the park with the kids and a camera? Letting her have the afternoon "off"? Go ahead and think through your laundry needs for next week early in the weekend. No boxers will be laundered on Sunday, buddy!
These are tried and true tips. Tried and true, I'm telling ya. These were gathered from personal research. It is my belief that adopting these tips can help to ensure a safe and restful Mother's Day for all involved.
Bless ya!
Actually, I know there aren't any...but just let me have my fun.
A note to all men: Mother's Day is coming up. Don't blow it. here are a few of, what I believe, are the most helpful tips you will ever need.
Tip #1 - Think ahead. You still have 3 days...but you only have 3 days. If you haven't taken action, or at least spent some time planning, you are already behind schedule. A Saturday night trip to Wal-Mart or Food World is not going to serve you well. The cards are picked over and the pre-arranged bouquets have leaves that are browning. We know if you've saved this important task for the last minute.
Tip #2 - Think through meal planning. In my opinion, any meals your wife has to cook/prepare are actual withdrawals from the emotional bank. Breakfast in bed? Great. Lunch out after church? A no brainer. Dinner is really a judgement call. My advice? Know your wife. If you made a late-evening trip to the local grocery store floral department, I'd say dinner, too.
Tip #3 - Think before gift buying. The old "stand by's" may not be the best option anymore. Be creative. Does your wife like practical gifts? Then you are in luck...but remember that "practical" is not a synonym for "dustbuster". Practical gifts are those little lovelies that are not only fun to look at, but useful, as well. The gift doesn't even have to be expensive!! The key is to use your imagination! For your benefit, here are some bad gift ideas: dustbuster (I already mentioned this), any cleaning accoutrement whatsoever, pots and pans (unless the box clearly says "Calphalon - complete set" somewhere on it), grill tools, or anything at all that could be used on the lawn (save gardening stuff...if she's into that).
Tip #4 - Think "time management". What are your plans for the day? Don't have any? Get some. Will you be having a picnic? Making a trip to the park with the kids and a camera? Letting her have the afternoon "off"? Go ahead and think through your laundry needs for next week early in the weekend. No boxers will be laundered on Sunday, buddy!
These are tried and true tips. Tried and true, I'm telling ya. These were gathered from personal research. It is my belief that adopting these tips can help to ensure a safe and restful Mother's Day for all involved.
Bless ya!
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Lost at the Ball Park
Yesterday Caroline went with her first grade class to see the Biscuits Play baseball. She was very excited about going, but as we were getting ready that morning we faced a hurdle: should she wear a hat or not?
Caroline, in typical girl style, wanted to wear a hat with her pony tail poking through the back, but was afraid that no one else would be wearing a hat. What if her teacher told her she couldn't wear a hat, and then she had to take it off? Singled out?! Forget it!
We finally came to a conclusion after several minutes of talking it through. I wrote a note to teacher asking for permission for Caroline to wear the hat and assured her (Caroline) that if she was indeed allowed to wear it, her student-teacher would certainly know how to poke the pony tail through. She seemed ok with that plan.
Let me give some more explanation: Caroline couldn't bear to be told "no" by her teacher...this was the reason for her apprehension. Not the "no" itself, but the fact that others might hear and she would be embarrassed. I can totally relate, even though as an adult I could say the whole thing doesn't make sense or that she's overreacting. However, this whole scenario could be a page from my childhood, so I'm not pointing any fingers.
Anyway, as I was dropping Caroline off, I prayed for her: that she would have confidence in the Lord, no matter what teacher said, and that she would be content, without or without her hat. I then went on to pray that God would just make it possible for Caroline to wear her hat on this hot, sunny day at the ball field. (in case you're wondering why this hat thing is a big deal at all - we have a strict uniform dress-code at our school, which is nice, but somewhat of a millstone about my neck at times.)
After leaving Caroline at the school, I had one of those "feelings". I can't really explain it, except to say that I was unsettled in my spirit. Was it the hat issue? Maybe...but it felt deeper than that. All day long I felt a nagging sort of feeling inside me. I wondered if it was her self-consciousness, which surprised me, because she is a very confident little girl. Either way, I felt compelled to pray for her all day long. Like I said, something just wasn't "settled".
At 3:45 I went back to the school to pick her up. I noticed she had a hat on when she got off the bus, which made me smile...but there was something about her face. Something...troubled.
The story goes something like this: Caroline, on a trip to the restroom with the girls in the class, failed to hear the teacher say for everyone to meet at the sinks when they were done. Caroline finished up first, walked out of her stall and saw that no one was there. Thinking she had been left behind, she left the restroom and began walking. (AACK!!) After walking for what, to her, seemed like forever back towards where she had come from (feeling scared and alone), she found one of the chaperones, who lead her back to wear the first grade classes were seated.
When teacher discovered Caroline was not with the group in the restroom, she panicked for a moment (as would have I). When she took the class back to their seats, she happily found Caroline. Teacher then took Caroline aside and (in Caroline's words) "got on to" her. I know she wasn't harsh...but I thought it was interesting that the thing Caroline hoped to avoid with the hat drama in the first place, was played out, not only with her class present, but the entire first grade and all those watching the Biscuits game as well.
How often do I try and orchestrate events in my life so that things go my way and I avoid any sort of less-than-wonderful light? I'll tell you: lots. I think it was a good lesson for Caroline and for me. For Caroline: listen well, apply wisdom, and trust that what God has us face (whether comfy or not) passes through his loving hand first. For me: that still, small voice is something I must listen to. I really feel the Father had prompted me to pray for her all day and had given me that "unsettled" feeling so that I would intercede for her and her class that day.
Whew!
Bless ya!
Caroline, in typical girl style, wanted to wear a hat with her pony tail poking through the back, but was afraid that no one else would be wearing a hat. What if her teacher told her she couldn't wear a hat, and then she had to take it off? Singled out?! Forget it!
We finally came to a conclusion after several minutes of talking it through. I wrote a note to teacher asking for permission for Caroline to wear the hat and assured her (Caroline) that if she was indeed allowed to wear it, her student-teacher would certainly know how to poke the pony tail through. She seemed ok with that plan.
Let me give some more explanation: Caroline couldn't bear to be told "no" by her teacher...this was the reason for her apprehension. Not the "no" itself, but the fact that others might hear and she would be embarrassed. I can totally relate, even though as an adult I could say the whole thing doesn't make sense or that she's overreacting. However, this whole scenario could be a page from my childhood, so I'm not pointing any fingers.
Anyway, as I was dropping Caroline off, I prayed for her: that she would have confidence in the Lord, no matter what teacher said, and that she would be content, without or without her hat. I then went on to pray that God would just make it possible for Caroline to wear her hat on this hot, sunny day at the ball field. (in case you're wondering why this hat thing is a big deal at all - we have a strict uniform dress-code at our school, which is nice, but somewhat of a millstone about my neck at times.)
After leaving Caroline at the school, I had one of those "feelings". I can't really explain it, except to say that I was unsettled in my spirit. Was it the hat issue? Maybe...but it felt deeper than that. All day long I felt a nagging sort of feeling inside me. I wondered if it was her self-consciousness, which surprised me, because she is a very confident little girl. Either way, I felt compelled to pray for her all day long. Like I said, something just wasn't "settled".
At 3:45 I went back to the school to pick her up. I noticed she had a hat on when she got off the bus, which made me smile...but there was something about her face. Something...troubled.
The story goes something like this: Caroline, on a trip to the restroom with the girls in the class, failed to hear the teacher say for everyone to meet at the sinks when they were done. Caroline finished up first, walked out of her stall and saw that no one was there. Thinking she had been left behind, she left the restroom and began walking. (AACK!!) After walking for what, to her, seemed like forever back towards where she had come from (feeling scared and alone), she found one of the chaperones, who lead her back to wear the first grade classes were seated.
When teacher discovered Caroline was not with the group in the restroom, she panicked for a moment (as would have I). When she took the class back to their seats, she happily found Caroline. Teacher then took Caroline aside and (in Caroline's words) "got on to" her. I know she wasn't harsh...but I thought it was interesting that the thing Caroline hoped to avoid with the hat drama in the first place, was played out, not only with her class present, but the entire first grade and all those watching the Biscuits game as well.
How often do I try and orchestrate events in my life so that things go my way and I avoid any sort of less-than-wonderful light? I'll tell you: lots. I think it was a good lesson for Caroline and for me. For Caroline: listen well, apply wisdom, and trust that what God has us face (whether comfy or not) passes through his loving hand first. For me: that still, small voice is something I must listen to. I really feel the Father had prompted me to pray for her all day and had given me that "unsettled" feeling so that I would intercede for her and her class that day.
Whew!
Bless ya!
Friday, May 02, 2008
The Lion and the Lamb
Don't you just love it when God uses your children to show you your sin?
That sounds a little sarcastic, but actually, I don't mean it that way. When my children point out something in my life, it's usually dead on, and also a little funny or cute, so I get the conviction...and a laugh, too.
Ok, now that sounds like I might think sin is funny or something. Good grief...if I'm going to sit around and worry about what you people think of me, I'll never get my housework done...
Anyway, the following is a question (and maybe a commentary?) that was put to me by my precious Molly this morning at the breakfast table. Let me set the scene: after sleeping in for quite a few extra minutes, I inevitably woke the kids late. So, by the time we made it to the breakfast table, we should have already been well into "chore chart" time. I told the girls that since we were running late, we were just having a quick breakfast - nothing fancy. Caroline then proceeds to ask if she can have different things that will take time to make: waffles, toast, cinnamon rolls. No, no, no, I answer. Cereal, nutri-grain, cheese - you pick, but pick now. Caroline pouts and points out that in the time it has taken me to chop up an orange for Molly, I could have stuck a couple peices of bread in the toaster. True enough. SO, I grab the bread, throw it on the counter, shove two pieces into the toaster.
Molly looks at me and asks: "Mommy, will there be animals in heaven?" I explain to her that she has asked a great question and that, yes, there will be animals (in the new earth - hope my theology is correct here. Michael?), and if we feel like taking a nap, we will be able to curl up next to a great big lion to stay warm and he won't hurt us. That, in fact, the wild animals will be our friends - they will be nice to us.
Then she adds: "Mommy, will you be nice to us in heaven?"
Ouch!
Bless ya!
Footnote: I could add here that at the moment this interchange occured I had been awake for a mere 5 minutes, hadn't had my coffee yet, etc...but that would be excuse making. Molly called me on the carpet. I was unkind to my children this morning. Maybe not so much in my words, but in my actions (which they saw clearly), I was anything but "nice". I need reminders like this...they show me how ugly my heart can be, but also my desperate need of Jesus.
That sounds a little sarcastic, but actually, I don't mean it that way. When my children point out something in my life, it's usually dead on, and also a little funny or cute, so I get the conviction...and a laugh, too.
Ok, now that sounds like I might think sin is funny or something. Good grief...if I'm going to sit around and worry about what you people think of me, I'll never get my housework done...
Anyway, the following is a question (and maybe a commentary?) that was put to me by my precious Molly this morning at the breakfast table. Let me set the scene: after sleeping in for quite a few extra minutes, I inevitably woke the kids late. So, by the time we made it to the breakfast table, we should have already been well into "chore chart" time. I told the girls that since we were running late, we were just having a quick breakfast - nothing fancy. Caroline then proceeds to ask if she can have different things that will take time to make: waffles, toast, cinnamon rolls. No, no, no, I answer. Cereal, nutri-grain, cheese - you pick, but pick now. Caroline pouts and points out that in the time it has taken me to chop up an orange for Molly, I could have stuck a couple peices of bread in the toaster. True enough. SO, I grab the bread, throw it on the counter, shove two pieces into the toaster.
Molly looks at me and asks: "Mommy, will there be animals in heaven?" I explain to her that she has asked a great question and that, yes, there will be animals (in the new earth - hope my theology is correct here. Michael?), and if we feel like taking a nap, we will be able to curl up next to a great big lion to stay warm and he won't hurt us. That, in fact, the wild animals will be our friends - they will be nice to us.
Then she adds: "Mommy, will you be nice to us in heaven?"
Ouch!
Bless ya!
Footnote: I could add here that at the moment this interchange occured I had been awake for a mere 5 minutes, hadn't had my coffee yet, etc...but that would be excuse making. Molly called me on the carpet. I was unkind to my children this morning. Maybe not so much in my words, but in my actions (which they saw clearly), I was anything but "nice". I need reminders like this...they show me how ugly my heart can be, but also my desperate need of Jesus.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Making my own Messes
Last night I was making Mason's 9th birthday (yikes!!) invitations. Ethan came to me (we had stayed home from church because Molly had a stye in each eye...at one point she had blood dripping from BOTH eyes. It was lovely. I'll post a picture later) whining from hunger. Now, he had just finished a generous portion of spaghetti-o's and a string cheese, so I told him that no, he couldn't have a snack.
"Mommy, bish!" (fish, as in goldfish crackers)
"No, Ethan, you just ate, and Mommy is busy."
"Bish, Mommy, peas (please)!"
"No, sweetheart.."
At this point Ethan throws himself onto the floor wailing. After my brief flashback to Rite Aid, I am brought to my senses and quickly administer the loving rebuke (i.e. a couple of swats on the fanny).
Honestly, here is where I have probably made my mistake: I then give Ethan the goldfish. The thing that he has been whining about and for which I have told him no repeatedly, I then hand to him on a silver platter (actually it was a little plastic cup, but you understand, right?). Basically, I just want to finish the invitations thank-you-very-much.
I then continue writing away. After a while I tune back in to what is going on around me. I hear a crunching sound, and turn to see that Ethan has dumped the fish (bish) out onto the kitchen floor and is stepping on them one by one. Unfortunately for me, I have caught him just in time for the last one or two.
Since these are the "rainbow" colorful goldfish, I have quite a mess to contend with.
Molly walks in and comments on how pretty all the crumbs look on the floor. (She is her father's "the glass is half full" daughter for sure).
After a brief encounter with the broom and dustpan, all is well. Clean, I mean.
Life seems full of these "little messes" (not just crackers on the floor) that require some time and energy, but don't really leave a mark.
Then, there are the other kind...the kind that leave big gashes and bleeding, oozing wounds that have to heal. Like the kind of messes we make with our tongues. I have been leading a Bible study on James (I think I mentioned that in an earlier post) and this past week we studied James 3:1-12...the passage on taming the tongue. James says that our tongues sets the course of our life! It reveals what we believe about God! The things we say are what bubble up out of heart - whether it be praise worthy or vile. God has convicted me over and over during the last couple weeks about the ways I use my tongue. I found this great verse in Proverbs 21 which says something like (not quoting) He who holds his tongue saves himself from calamity.
James goes on to say that no man can tame the tongue. So, I'm not condemned, but rather encouraged to look to (to RUN to!!)the one who can - the one who never said anything wrong or incorrectly, and who always said everything that needed to be said and said it rightly. I sometimes make huge messes that can't always be "swept up" like the goldfish. My improper use of my tongue and the messes I make with it help me see my desperate need of Jesus, and in turn, prompt me to pray for repentance and new obedience. And after all is said and done...that's what I want.
"Mommy, bish!" (fish, as in goldfish crackers)
"No, Ethan, you just ate, and Mommy is busy."
"Bish, Mommy, peas (please)!"
"No, sweetheart.."
At this point Ethan throws himself onto the floor wailing. After my brief flashback to Rite Aid, I am brought to my senses and quickly administer the loving rebuke (i.e. a couple of swats on the fanny).
Honestly, here is where I have probably made my mistake: I then give Ethan the goldfish. The thing that he has been whining about and for which I have told him no repeatedly, I then hand to him on a silver platter (actually it was a little plastic cup, but you understand, right?). Basically, I just want to finish the invitations thank-you-very-much.
I then continue writing away. After a while I tune back in to what is going on around me. I hear a crunching sound, and turn to see that Ethan has dumped the fish (bish) out onto the kitchen floor and is stepping on them one by one. Unfortunately for me, I have caught him just in time for the last one or two.
Since these are the "rainbow" colorful goldfish, I have quite a mess to contend with.
Molly walks in and comments on how pretty all the crumbs look on the floor. (She is her father's "the glass is half full" daughter for sure).
After a brief encounter with the broom and dustpan, all is well. Clean, I mean.
Life seems full of these "little messes" (not just crackers on the floor) that require some time and energy, but don't really leave a mark.
Then, there are the other kind...the kind that leave big gashes and bleeding, oozing wounds that have to heal. Like the kind of messes we make with our tongues. I have been leading a Bible study on James (I think I mentioned that in an earlier post) and this past week we studied James 3:1-12...the passage on taming the tongue. James says that our tongues sets the course of our life! It reveals what we believe about God! The things we say are what bubble up out of heart - whether it be praise worthy or vile. God has convicted me over and over during the last couple weeks about the ways I use my tongue. I found this great verse in Proverbs 21 which says something like (not quoting) He who holds his tongue saves himself from calamity.
James goes on to say that no man can tame the tongue. So, I'm not condemned, but rather encouraged to look to (to RUN to!!)the one who can - the one who never said anything wrong or incorrectly, and who always said everything that needed to be said and said it rightly. I sometimes make huge messes that can't always be "swept up" like the goldfish. My improper use of my tongue and the messes I make with it help me see my desperate need of Jesus, and in turn, prompt me to pray for repentance and new obedience. And after all is said and done...that's what I want.
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