(be still)

Dark and cold and rainy evening and I am listening to The Fray's Be Still  and trying to formulate thoughts into words

Be still and know that I Am with you

Be still and know that I Am here



I wrote this awesome little quote on my chalkboard wall today:

Stop the glorification of busy.

 

-author unknown

 

It stares down at me as I rush by, this thought that busy isn't always good.

 

I am hiding in the busy, drowning in it, running away from all that I need to slow down and pray through. 

 

I say no to two separate events today, give way and say yes to the third.

 

I try to glorify the stillness, but in the stillness is grief and pain.

 

The stillness and maybe the rain bring thoughts and thoughts bring pain.

 

Being still means that I have a few q's for God, some things I don't understand, and I think being busy I can just ignore what I'm thinking and throw a few God is goods and thankful for graces (protestant Hail Marys) at the doubts and we'll be good to go.



When darkness comes upon you

And covers you with fear and shame

Be still and know that I Am with you

And I will say your name


The quietness always reveals the gaping hole, the void of our son.

Gabe is a shadow of my imagination these days, all the memories and joy and pain so distant.  Apparently two and a half years is a long time frame.  I can't remember things.  This drives me crazy and I can't even allow my mind to remember what it can't remember. 

But my children, they remember with startling clarity and once again I wonder if they're okay.

I sit on the front porch with Jacob and a few of his buddies.  They are crouched on their little haunches, little boy style, talking about nothing and everything. 

Jacob, matter-of fact: "My little brother died in my bedroom and I know where his bed was and I don't like to be there when I sleep."

I am stunned and panicky and the mama bear in me instantly has our house listed with a SOLD sign on it and I am far away from all this pain, wanting to protect this boy from memories, from death, from fear.

If terror falls upon your bed

And sleep no longer comes

Remember all the words I've said

Be still, be still and know.

I wait, wait to be calm, wait to be rational, and that night up in his room,  I sit on his bed and rub his little boy back, feel his bristly short hair that won't grow long the way he wants it to, pray for the words that I should say, pray to listen.

Hey, I heard you say you remember that Gabe died in here.  Can you talk to me about that? Cuz I remember too.

He rolls over. 

Yeah, I just know it, Mom.

I cringe.  Do you want to trade bedrooms? I would do anything, anything to take away a little pain from anyone here; these walls have seen too many tears.

Well. . . I don't know, I like having a big room, you know, with my stuff, and my desk. . . he trails off.  The materialism in him is winning over his memories. Unbelievable.  Maybe this isn't all as deep and crushing as it initially sounded.

I relax a little.  Well, we can always trade around bedrooms.  I don't want you to be scared.  Really.

He sits up a little, his big brown eyes serious.  Well, yes, I am scared because sometimes I do think there are rattlesnakes in here. 

I want to laugh and cry.  He just needs to relay facts, hear truth, be loved, be secure.  He needs to say that his brother died.  He needs to read too many westerns and be scared of rattlesnakes.  He is just a boy and he will be okay.

I think.


When you go through the valley

And shadow comes down from the hill

If morning never comes to be

Be still, be still, be still


My sister Elizabeth and I are sweating and fuming and vowing to never touch peel and stick linoleum squares ever again in a basement bathroom, snapping chalklines and using squares and still having problems and then Mom calls, with Cambria on the other end of the phone for me. 

She has long endless details about the bike ride Mom took her for and Grandma pushed Eli in the stroller and I waited for her at the corners

and then we went to see Gabe, Mom, I showed Grandma where to go cuz I know how to get there and I rode my bike and showed Grandma.  And we were there with Eli and I looked up and Grandma was crying not really loud, just a little.  And then I cried, too, Mom.

I left the linoleum squares.

And then Grandma prayed, Mom, and she asked me if I wanted to pray too and I said yes.  So we both prayed there. 

I bless my mom for loving my daughter and walking her through this moment.  I don't know what to say.  I feel far away even though I'm just across town and the phone between us amplifies the loss because I want to reach out an hug her little warm self and take the pain away.


And in the middle of my busy-running, in the middle of the pain-burying, our precious Eli turns one and I realize the enormous amount of healing and relief he has brought to our home.

In true over-busy style I buy him a cake from the Walmart deli case and we put a little blue candle in it and watch his little face in the glow of the flame;  I'm struck by the fact that I don't have a driving need to make his first birthday perfect, like I did for Gabe. 

Because he's here.  He doesn't care about the perfect cupcakes, and I don't either, because I can kiss his bald little head and pinch his solid little legs and chase him all over the house and out of messes, all day long. 

I thank God for him, this little Eli David constantly.  I try not to hold him too tight.  I teach him "no" and "obey" and Cambria and I roll with laughter when he learns to hokey-pokey.

I think of a paragraph in a book I never finished once I found that the grieving father's young son returns as a ghost;  (I don't need any additional weird thoughts in my head)

Mark sat back down on the stool, his heart beating too fast.  For the second time that day, he wondered how on earth he'd managed to become the person he was: a man who felt like weeping whenever someone he loved left the room.

You Came Back, by Christopher Coake, ch.2, pg.15 



If you forget the way to go

And lose where you came from

If no ones standing beside you

Be still and know I Am



Be still and know that I am God, He says to me.  All the answers are not here, but He is.

The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind.

After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.

After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.

And after the fire came a gentle whisper. {1 Kings 19:11-13}

He was there, in the stillness.


Be still and know that I Am with you

Be still and know I Am.

pumpkin snickerdoodles

and just when I'm feeling especially skinny I discover something like these little yummies and swooop off we go again. 


Well, anyway, these are just about the best things ever.  I changed some things about the recipe I found, so it's pretty original.


recipe:


3 3/4 cup flour
1 1/2 t. baking powder
1/2 t. salt
1/2 t. cinnamon
1/4 t. pumpkin pie spice
2 sticks butter
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 cup pumpkin
2 t. vanilla

Mix dry ingredients, then mix butter and sugars.  Add remaining and form into little balls.  Roll in 1 t. cinnamon/ 1 t. pumpkin pie spice / 1/2 cup sugar  mixture, press down slightly with a glass and bake for about 8- 10 minutes at 350. 

Delish!

so you buy a fixer-upper

I need one of those meme generators for the following photos; maybe you can just imagine it.

What people think you do when you buy investment properties:

{followed by a light lunch at Salvatore's across the street}

 

 

Yep,

 

no.

 

It isn't glamorous and it isn't easy and it most certainly isn't like BH&G TV. 

 

First of all you quake in your boots with the $ signs attached, even if you get great deals.

 

Then you crab at each other because the whole process is so stinkin' stressful.

 

Next, you drive up to your new income generator  paycheck sucker and let me assure you that the thrill of the great deal feels quite different when the keys are in your own trembling fingers.

 

This is one of the two houses that my land shark hubby just acquired.

 



 

I forgot to take pictures of the other house (I will) but this one is more fun because it's just so shockingly awful.  I can't wait to get the after pictures.  Well, really I just can't wait for the after.

 

So at this point you've already assembled a massive list of what needs to happen to make the place inhabitable, but the fine tuning and arranging of this list begins to sound like an adult version of 

If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.

 

First of all we need to roof,

and then we need to side, 

the porches need to be torn off and rebuilt, but that actually needs to happen before the siding.

The windows can be ordered,

and then the doors.

Oh, no, the doors before the siding.

If we do doors before the siding, though, let's convert from 32" to 36" doorways.

After that the electrical guys can come get this ancient wiring up to code and 200 amp service, but that's after we do our own trenching

after we rent a trencher

but before we tear up the back sidewalk. . .

did I mention gutters?

 

That's just the outside.

 

Are you tired yet? No?  Good, come have a look at this lovely kitchen.

 

Please do plug your nostrils.

 

Who puts carpet in kitchens?  Why?  I will never understand that one.

 

While I was saying "we'll haul the stove out"  I flipped the burner on and lo and behold it worked, and so did the other three.  So did the oven.  The lights even work.  The photo doesn't do justice to the absolute filth of it. . .  as I cleaned it this week, I convinced myself that I was making $100 an hour since keeping the stove would save us the cost of buying one.

 

Later, only half joking,  I told Daniel that I didn't want to know how much meth I cleaned off the stove.  He laughed and informed me that meth isn't cooked on stoves, rather in plastic bottles and crock pots.  There, you've always wanted to know that, right? 

 

Here's a little sample of one of the bedrooms:



There is even a little customized hiding spot in the floor. {need a sarcasm font}

So although this room really isn't that bad,  nothing can be done to it until the roof is repaired and then the ceiling.  That's why the flow chart lists are so important. . . at this point it's totally pointless to even sweep the floor.

 

Here's a peek at the living room through the front hallway.  You can see into the awful kitchen from here, too. 

 

How about that light hanging from a cord?  It literally fell out of the ceiling, hanging by the proverbial thread.  Er, wire. 

 

I am actually doing a lot of grey in this house,  a little bored with my standard beige Cottonwood color, so the grey wall color will sort of stay.  In a way.  Not really, though.  It will be magnificently cleaner and a Benjamin Moore-ish grey, not filthy and dingy and Wal-Mart mis-tint grey.

 

You prioritize and crunch numbers and order supplies and work your tail off and show houses to endless streams of people and run background checks and mow and in between one of us works his real job and the other of us works her real job.

 

You forget to eat dinner and you worry that you're living life out of balance. 

 

You thrill with the joy of making beauty and order out of chaos and with the financial benefit that comes from hard work.

 

 

Then after the exhaustion of working every spare minute all week you give yourself a little mental break and  enjoy a Saturday with the kids

 

plan a wedding shower

 

clean like a crazy lady to be sure that your own house never becomes like the one you've been slaving at all week

 

make pies for the weekend + Daniel & the guys at Station #2.

 

 

 

 

Just a tiny little peek into the fixer-upper side of life.

why motherhood can be like pinterest

***updated:  if you're reading in a reader, part of this post will be difficult to see. . . the web version should be fine, sorry for the hassle.   {oh the joys of not being a techie!!}




Two weeks ago I opened my inbox to and my stomach lurched a little. . . can you give a devotion for Miranda's baby shower?

You have to be scraping at the bottom of the barrel to ask me to give a devotion or do any sort of public speaking, but besides the obvious lack of skill in elocution, my main great weakness is the inability to say no. 

So anyway, I said yes,  really because this idea flashed into my head that I could use.

I'm sharing it here just in case there is someone out there like me who somehow gets roped into giving a little talk. . . I think you could pretty easily adapt the idea to marriage, too.  As I covered a subject, I pinned a little scrap of magazine (PB Kids had great backgrounds) to a canvas board.  It kept me on track and away from my famous rambling. See Figure 1.

And can I just say that I can't wait to see my sweet friend be a mom to her little punkin' . . . it has been so fun to watch Weston and Miranda as they have married, built a home, served and served cheerfully and faithfully.  They are such great examples. . . my kids love them and it is a privilege to call them friends.

{just copied and pasted my notes in here. . . please forgive the wildness of the structure}

Deep Breath.

Oh Miranda.

Being a mom is so fun.

you’re in that dim little hospital room, just you and that little baby, adrenalin pumping and sleep far, far away, kissing that fuzzy head and breathing in that baby skin- 

And you’re like I did this!!!  I can’t believe it!! I am superwoman!

(And then you have to go to the bathroom and have to push the nurse button for help.)

Welcome to the paradox of having your heart burst with pride and having no pride left at all.

And I know I do have pride left, but not much.  If I pretend that I have it together right now during this little talk, my kids' teachers sitting here are going to stand up and start telling you stories.  Almost every mother here has a child whom Jacob bit,  my middle child is still sucking her thumb and my youngest at eleven months is just beginning to think about sleeping through the night.  So these aren’t thoughts from a supermom.  And they certainly aren’t thoughts from someone with perfect children.  Rather they are a collection of the most important mom advice that others have told me.

I just want to explain why I think that motherhood can be just a little bit like Pinterest.

First of all having a child can be like having this huge blank board.  (draw ? )

They are young.  they are impressionable.  The whole world is open to them.

It is your job to pin things to this board.  IE  raise this child.

Proverbs 22:6 Direct your children onto the right path, and when they are older, they will not leave it

Ephesians 6:4 Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.

Deuteronomy 6:7 Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up.[NIV says impress, English Standard says teach diligently,

Isaiah 38:19 The living, the living--they praise you, as I am doing today; fathers tell their children about your faithfulness.

These all demonstrate a theme of shaping and molding your child’s direction..

Your child is a blank slate with a sin nature and There are going to be many, many forces and influences vying for opportunity to write on the walls of his heart.  Guard it!

You have the privilege of being the board administrator.  You get to say what goes on the board.

Proverbs 13 20 says that he who walks with the wise will be wise and so just like pinterest has that little box  that says ://repins from ://with 3 little slots for their names, so parenting can have that box too

 

1.  Look at parents whose children are just a bit older than yours.  Look at what you like.  Go ask questions.  There is great value in having people in your life who are just one step ahead of you because they have the issues that you are dealing with fresh on their minds.

 

2. People whose children are grown.  Your issues may not be as fresh but they have perspective on the years your’re facing. And clarity to tell you what to sweat and what not to sweat.

 

3. Then people whose children are grandparents. Here is where the real wisdom is.  They have not only raised their own children, but have watched their children raise theirs.  They have a pretty good idea of what they regret and what they don’t regret and they have humble, gentle advice to share. So sit at their feet and listen.

 

Moving on to pinning.

 

Respect for their daddy.  1. Remembering that your relationship with Weston is for life;  your relationship with your child is too, but you are probably not going to be living with your child for longer than 18 years.  However you are going to be with Weston for the rest of your life. Your child needs to see the priority you place on your marriage; a 100% child-centered mom is going to be raising a child whose world is a little askew and will have a husband who doesn’t know where he fits in to this new picture. [see fig. 2]  

This priority traces itself back to Genesis and God’s design for the home beginning with Adam and Eve.  Their little family was complete with each other;  Children are an additional blessing to that home.  God blesses with children usually, but it is important to note that a marriage is a separate entity, not hinging on the babies.  The benefits of treating your husband like he’s still the most important person to you will spill over onto your child.

2. Let your husband help. Over and over the Bible says “listen to the the instruction of your father and do not forsake your mother’s teaching.”  It does not say “listen to your mom and disregard what dad says.”  This can start really really young.  Moms have such a tendency to just overwhelm the new dad with advice:  no, don’t hold him like that.  Oh, he likes his bottle this way.  You’re putting the pacifier in the wrong way.  Oh, you can’t put the pacifier back in without triple washing it! In most cases you are going to be the primary caregiver and you are going to have ample time to “do it right”—encourage daddy involvement by not being critical when he helps out. This will set the stage for an easy transition when your sweet angelic baby reached the terrible twos and you are desperate for your husband’s input.  He will already be involved and won’t have to start from scratch in relating to his own child.

 

Saturate your child with the Word of God. Deuteronomy 6:7 Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up.  Look for ways to speak Scripture into your child’s heart and there are so many ways to do this.

Music

Books

Reading the Word

Literally writing it on your child’s walls

This kind of goes without saying, but you need to be in the Word in order to have your child be in the word.

 

Put Kind words into your child’s life.   Psalm 19:14 (Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Thy sight.) Kind words to your baby are going to come easily at first.  But they won’t always. It starts that first night the baby has cried and cried and cried and you don’t know what to do and even though you wouldn’t think of being cross with your precious punkin, when Weston rolls over and says “I’m trying to sleep.” . . . kind words typically don’t spring to your mind. The habit of kind words doesn’t usually start easily, but it is a beautiful thing to cultivate. Sleep deprivation and the weariness that comes from pouring yourself out for your child can result in emptiness and cross words spring from an empty heart. Notice the Psalmist didn’t say The words of my mouth ARE acceptable.  He asked that they be acceptable.  Ask God for kind words . Ask God to fill your heart-  He will.

Put fun into your child’s life. Pr. 17:22A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones. Psalm 126:2 Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then they said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.”

Put GRACE in your child’s life.  You are going to fail.  He is going to fail. Ephesians says not to exasperate your child, but to bring him up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.  This is a process and a process take time, not finger snapping.  Grace, grace, grace.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.  .  .And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. From John 1 

Pin Compassion.  As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him.

 Don’t pin COMPARISON.  Your child is going to be this amazing, unique person.  Let him be! Paul said we do not dare to classify or compare ourselves with some of those who are commending themselves. But when they measure themselves by one another and compare themselves with one another, they are not wise.  Be imitators of God, as dearly loved children, and live a life of love.

Pin Individuality! Train up a child in the way HE should go. (from Brown's Concordance)  Or, according to the tenor of his way, i. e., the path especially belonging to, especially fitted for, the individuals character. The proverb enjoins the closest possible study of each child's temperament and the adaptation of "his way of life" to that.

Pin instruction! Clarke’s Commentary- Train up a child in the way he should go - The Hebrew of this clause is curious: חנך לנער על פי דרכו chanoch lannaar al pi darco, "Initiate/educate the child at the opening (the mouth) of his path." When he comes to the opening of the way of life, being able to walk alone, and to choose; stop at this entrance, and begin a series of instructions, how he is to conduct himself in every step he takes. Show him the duties, the dangers, and the blessings of the path; give him directions how to perform the duties, how to escape the dangers, and how to secure the blessings, which all lie before him.

Limits are important.  This really begins with babyhood.  You can set loving limits even for a tiny little one.  Dr. Adrian Rogers said this:  

 Children will tell you that they don't want limits.  Don't believe them.  If you don't set limits, a child unconsciously feels rejected.  Even in the Garden of Eden, God set limits - not to dampen the spirits of Adam and Eve, but to show His wise provision for all that they needed. 

And keep in mind that children will push against limits.  If you give in, then the boundary collapses and security is lost.  Giving children limits helps them learn that the world has consequences.

A biblical perspective of the earth.The earth is the LORD's, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it; Psalm 24:1

This verse covers a lot.  Stewardship, resourcefulness, respect for all nationalities and a realization that we all bleed red. Give your child an awareness of a world bigger than his four walls, or even hometown.

Good pride. I have great confidence in you. I take great pride in you.  I am greatly encouraged.  In all our troubles, my joy knows no bounds. II CO. 7:3

Pin LOVE.   It can be tempting, much like Pinterest, to just idealize, reading all the great parenting books, talking about being a good mom and dreaming about the perfect child.  At the end of the day, though, thinking about ideas and mothering and great plans and dreaming isn’t enough.  You just have to jump in and do it. Above all, put on love which is the bond of peace.

Fig. 1

 

 

 

a dad brings a lot of balance to the following scenario:

 

Fig. 2



Caramel Apple Cinnamon Rolls

It's that time of year when I'm reminded why I love the midwest so much. . .

There is nothing  like the sounds and smells of autumn. 

My sister has this great rule about autumn baking and despite all of the pumpkin love, I follow it:  apple before pumpkin.

So we've been eating lots of apple stuff; the kids and I invented these  yummies yesterday.

Did you know you can make cinnamon rolls out of regular bread dough?  It's so easy. . . and if you don't make bread you can use Rhodes frozen dough.

Anyway, we used a loaf portion of whole wheat bread dough, rolled it out and added caramel apple stuff.  (recipe follows.)
(There aren't any left.)

Caramel Apple Cinnamon Rolls

One loaf portion bread dough, rolled into 12 x 18 rectangle

2 T. butter

1/3 cup brown sugar

1 T. cinnamon

1 granny smith apple, peeled and chopped fine

4 T. caramel dip (like T. Marzetti's)

for frosting:  I just use canned cream cheese frosting

Spread butter on dough, sprinkle on the following ingredients in order, dropping the caramel dip in dollops.  Roll up jelly roll style, pinching the edges to seal.  Cut with thread into slices and let rise in 9" round buttered pan. 

Bake at 350 for 30-35 minutes.  Let cool for ten minutes and frost with cream cheese frosting.

tempatation is a yellow school bus

[Cambria and one of her friends]

 

Was it only a week ago that I was with Daniel celebrating nine years of marriage?



 

 

Um. . . no, that was a lifetime ago. 

 

Whew!  What a week. 

 

Did my last post really say I feel very very ready to start on Monday?

 

ha ha ha ha ha ha.  (I'm not really laughing.)

 

It's still a privilege, but I am stretched and pulled in so many directions and I am trying to wear the mom hat and the wife hat and the momma-to-toddler hat and the teacher hat too. 

 

To be honest, I like the teacher hat.  That part is really fun and extremely rewarding.  The kicker is that I have to be the parent too.  The option of sending a note home to the parents is not available. 

 

(Although - I could email Daniel. . . hmmm. . .)

 

So we had tears this week and we had frustration;  we also had some pretty high highs.

 

The main high point makes me feel a little dumb to report-  because I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner -  but my little kindergartner can read!  I was so shocked and proud of her!  I will never forget those shrieking giggles as she read through four little readers in one sitting.  I can read it, Mom! 

If I said it once this week I said it one hundred times. . .

Nothing worth doing is easy.  Things that have value must be earned.  School is not going to be easy. 

And when temptation to choose the seemingly easier road shows itself in the form of the rumbling yellow school bus, then I need to heed my own advice: 

It's not going to be easy.

Is anything about parenting easy?

No, I don't think so, no matter your chosen style of education.

Things {and people} of value take time.



preparing for school & pouring out

Daniel took the kids out this afternoon I turned up the music




and worked on this all afternoon.

I feel ready, very ready to start on Monday.

Do you ever feel ready to take your children's education into your own wavering hands?

Well, no. But I'm so grateful for the opportunity, this overwhelming, exhausting opportunity to pour into their little lives.

Yesterday was their first library class and before we left the house I said:

You guys need to--- actually, you know what is required of you, so I'm not going to tell you. What would you tell your kids if you were sending them off to a class?

They loved this brave new approach and told me:

sit quietly

listen

be respectful

raise your hand if you have a question

{Well, this should be an uneventful class.}

When will I learn that my children don't DO uneventful?

The first thing I noticed upon JD's departure from the class were the Crayola marker tattoos upon his arms.  He even had one peeking out of his sleeve, fd style. 

Tattoos are just not my hill to die on; however I am quite sure that the literary class on peace was not the place for body artwork.  I filed it under the address later section of my brain.

Cambria tattled as soon as we got in the van.  Jacob drew on himself, Mo-om.

I'll talk to him later, Cambria, but this is not really your business.

I do believe Jacob blinked in surprise that I wasn't going to ream him immediately for the misbehavior.

Before later came, he brought up the subject himself, alone in the van with me and Eli.

Mom, I shouldn't have done that at the library.

Me:  Well, Jacob, that just wasn't the place.  The artwork was supposed to be happening on paper, not your arms.  [internal struggle to keep my words brief] [i do wayyyyyy too much talking]

Yep.

Huummmmm. And we drive on.  End of story.

Well, not quite the end, because the next time I saw him, he'd carefully washed all the marker off. 

That is the end. 

Why do I overthink stuff with him?  I overcomplicate almost everything.  But those days when there are just simple, calm fixes to the issues. . . I wanna dissect every part of the experience and figure out what worked and copy it again!

This is the part of teaching that I dread, the constant barrage of training and counsel and pouring in (from my broken leaking pitcher).

This is why I need to fill my mind with the truth of the Word, the knowledge and wisdom of others and encouragement to keep going.

If I'm empty I don't have anything to pour.

God, please fill my heart.

i wish for a weekend that lasts forever.

Ahh.

Sitting in my living room sipping on my midnight Starbucks. . .

So reluctant to say goodbye to this whirlwind weekend.

It started on Thursday with a visit to my precious friend Mrs. A.  You know how sometimes life is just too hard to sort out on your own?  Well, then it's time to seek out someone who is a bit wiser than you.  I treasure this woman and her ability to speak the truth in love into my life.  She is priceless to me.  I would wish her counsel on anyone and if you don't have someone like that in your life. . . look!

Another high point event on Thursday was realizing once again that I don't have parenting under control at all.

This always happens to me when I am on top of the world, feeling like I'm the mommy of the year.  You may be familiar with the phrase pride goes before a fall;  pretty sure that was written for me.

So I'm on the phone with my sister, sitting down on a park bench to wait for Cambria's soccer practice to finish.  Jacob had asked to go play on the park because one of his friends was waiting, too, and he scampered off happily. I've been feeling pretty good about the toddler advice I've been giving to my sister.  I've been relishing the role of the encourager;  it feels so good to be out of the terrible two stage of life, you know. 

So nice to just sit on a park bench under the tree, chatting with my sister, the breeze blowing and the sounds of . . .

well, the sounds of. . .

LOUD YELLING

in the background.

My eyes and ears focus and I realize that a man is yelling on the playground. 

He's actually yelling at my son.

you punched him, you punched him. where's your mom, where's your mom?!

I hung up the phone with my sister and tried to stay calm and rational.

There is a little boy crying; Jacob's face is white and he is literally shaking in fear, which is definitely a new look on him. He is looking at me wild eyed, saying Mom, I didn't punch him, I didn't!

I used lots of "sirs" and tried to communicate that I was sorry my son had hurt the little weeping fella and that I would get to the bottom of the story.

So much for peaceful breeze and bench time.

We eventually came to the conclusion that although the reaction didn't match the actual offense, JD could still apologize for bumping into the weeping dude in the playground  tunnel and steer a clear path  around him the rest of the time.

But isn't that the way of motherhood?  Just when you think ahh, I'm done. . .  there will be something else. 

I think the exhausting thing about being a mom is that your mind doesn't get a vaca.  You must be constantly engaged.

Moving on. . . .

blissful weekend spent at my family's. {about the only place I can let my mind have a vaca}

It was so great.

football

donuts

relaxing

waterslide for the cousins

go-kart rides

cooking together

coffee & ice trips

/someone/ may be a bit tired because we were up til 2am sprawled all over the porch swing bed last night catching up on al the girl talk that we've all missed out on. 

{Dad must be getting to be quite the softy.  My sisters must have a steady stream of  projects that they pitch to him, because everytime I come to their house, there is something different and fascinating that they found on Pinterest and begged Dad to make.}

Sisters!  There is just no substitute!

a little (?) for you

Well I could just about eat her up.

When I got off the phone with her coach, I told Cambria what time her practices were, that she needed to bring a ball and that her coach  was Miss Pam.  Her little face took in all the details and she burst out:

"Oh MOM.  I need to go pick out what I'm going to wear!"

I love having a little girl!

(That's always the first thing I think of too.)

*  *  *

Okay, I have a question for you guys who read what I scribble here. 

You know how there are bloggers who write but also post often, daily, links, articles, music, quotes, etc. 

I have really taken this blog down the writing road, choosing to use my facebook account for the short and sweet stuff, but sometimes I wonder about syncing some of that. 

What do you think? 

(Tell me what you think, I'm listening.)

when sleeping through the night isn't happy

It was a beautiful day to spend at the zoo today. . .

it was such a crazy long week and weekend . . .without my man. . . 

normally Monday is not a day I would relish, but today was different because we spent it with Daniel.

We spent some time watching Daniel's work and then spent the entire day at the zoo with him.  It was so fun.  I didn't want to come home.

Coming home would force me to face what was really on my mind. . .

Gabe slept through the night three nights in a row.  He slept through the fourth night, too and never woke up.

I have avoided and avoided teaching Eli to sleep through the night but the time has come for my sanity and his.

Tonight is Eli's fourth night.

I dragged and dragged my feet.

I let him get in the pool.

He had a bath. 

I sorted out pajamas for him.

I let him crawl all over our bed naked.  (he loves being naked)

He said goodnight to his peeps aka JD and Cambria.

I got my dumb camera phone out and made Daniel take a bunch of pictures of him.

He's so stinking cute.

Daniel started calling him "Bacon" today.

 And then I kissed his little self all over and put him in bed.

How do you ever have enough time???

You don't, that's all.

I plodded downstairs to piles of laundry to fold and children who wouldn't go to bed and were coming up with fantabulous stall tactics.

changing bed sheets.

(mom, i had a bloody nose on the sheet.) (why am I just now finding out about this?!)

oiling the fan.

it's squeaky.

I thought they were in bed and I sat down on the couch to try to manage my tattered emotions and what do you know. . . there the two little people were.  Looking at books just as chill as you please. 

Dad told us we could look at books because we're going to rub his back.

I'd like to pretend that a cherishing the moment mentality was present, but it wasn't and they were sent off to bed on no uncertain terms.

I started folding all the little pieces of clothing, bright summer colors and sturdy little jeans, bigger than Gabe's ever were, and I realize that I'm not really scared for Eli.

He's quite okay.

I am nervous, yes, because it's a milestone that snuck up on me, but what it's really about is Gabe.  It's that little deja vu feeling of normal happy evening, put the baby in bed, wake up in the morning and oh, the world crashed in today.

I don't want the world to come crashing in again tomorrow morning.

It won't my stronger, farther-in-the-healing-process psyche assures me.  But my heart falters and I cry as I fold the socks and the shorts and wish for the laughter that I won't hear again.

The grainy phone pictures. . . what were those about? If it was really Eli's last night, we would hardly settle for snapshots of him with poor quality lighting.  But it's not about Eli, it's about missing Gabe and wishing I would have taken another photo, had a recording of his chuckles, kissed and kissed and kissed him again.

The powerful presence of God through music is something that I will never underestimate.  While I was battling and wishing and sorting laundry through the tears, the words in the quiet background music spoke, no, shouted to my heart.

Here I am
Begging for certainty again
But simple trust
Is what you're asking me to give
If I am saved
You tell me it will not be by sight
So when I pray
I'll close my eyes, I'll close my eyes

I'll reach for your hand in the night
When the shadows swallow the light
'Cause I'm giving up, giving in
Once again a childlike faith
Is my only way
To see in the dark

The question mark
Hung at the end of every fear
Is answered by
The promise that you are with me here
And that's all I've got
When the lights go out and I lose my way
So I'll close my eyes
I won't be afraid, I won't be afraid

As I reach for your hand in the night
When the shadows swallow the light
'Cause I'm giving up, giving in
Once again a childlike faith
Is my only way
To see in the dark

If every star falls and the sun fails to rise
Still in my blindness I'll see
If You are my help, my hope and my vision
One step at a time You will lead

(Jason Gray)

Shadows. . .

Sunshine. . .

What a crazy world we live in, so much joy and so much pain.

Tonight I pray this for my little chubby son, the words written above his bed:

I will lie down in peace and sleep, because You alone O Lord make me dwell in safety.

(Psalm 4:8)

 

Jesus!

You are the Way, the Truth, the LIFE and the only way to see in the dark.



(why we don't have a picture of me kissing the van)

Oh, I forgot, I have a blog.

All is going swimmingly and that's just such.a.good.thing right now. 

Good for me usually is synonymous with busy and that leaves little time for thinking. Thinking leads to writing for me.  No thinking = no blogging.   Just click "unfollow" and take me off your visited link list if I start writing endless details about boring details of my life.

Or start posting twenty consecutive pictures of my kids smiling.  Or sleeping.  Or swimming.

Speaking of pictures. . .

I don't have a camera right now and it's a very long story.  You don't want to hear it.  Well, you do, but you don't.

Let me abbreviate it.

We bought a van.  It is sweet.  It is actually beautiful. 

(I wanted Daniel to take a picture of me kissing it, but I was afraid to ask him because he was still rubbing the hurt place near his wallet pocket.)

Then we immediately took the van on a weekend trip.  It was like Heaven on wheels.  Our travel conversation was full of me blessing Dave Ramsey for making us save and drive a bomb until we could actually pay cash and apologizing for yelling about the bomb and saying Daniel was amazing and thanking him for making me stick to our budget and telling him he's awesome. . . but this is the abbreviated version of why I don't have a camera, so I digress.

(It's hard for me to abbreviate anything.)

We parked Heaven-on-Wheels in the driveway at the beautiful home of T & L.

We ate amazing shish kabobs and drank amazing coffee.

We slept in an amazing guest room.

We woke to amazing bacon and more amazing coffee.

We saw an amazing photo-op for the little cousins and headed to the van for the camera, which had been placed in the center console the previous day.

NOTE: "Locked the amazing van" is not present in this sequence of events.

After an hour of frantic searching trying to disguise as casual looking (wondering the entire time if I was truly the most disorganized person on the planet), I humbled myself and asked Daniel if he knew where the camera was.

Oh I think it's in my laptop case.

Where's that?

On the floor by Eli's carseat.

Suddenly it was all very clear to me, since the laptop case was not in the van at all, that some happy thug was miles away with my camera and Daniel's laptop.

*small group would want me to note the theft of the Love & Respect leader material

*I personally want to note the theft of the SD card with the only pictures of my 30th birthday;  since now there is no record of it happening, I am still 29

*the kids would want me to note the additional theft of The Incredibles DVD

(Can you tell we had to file a police report?)

Daniel walked around and moped for awhile saying stuff like

"I betcha no one would have tried to steal anything out of the old van! Why did I buy a new vehicle?"

and

"From now on I don't want to hear anyone making fun of anyone who locks their vehicles!"  *dark looks directed at me*

and

"I hate sin, sin ruins everything"

(he tends to get really righteous in the face of adversity)

until Tim decided what the day needed was some ice cream and Lazy River time.

That helped quite a bit.

The end of the story is that Daniel's laptop is replaced, the Love & Respect material replaced, and The Incedibles DVD loss graciously forgiven by the library. 

There was a recent sighting of Daniel in our driveway installing a padlock on his truck box with more noise and force than necessary saying "I hate sin, sin ruins everything."

And this girl right here who has previously laughed her head off at paranoid lockers is locking.



But I am in the market for a camera.

(So I can take a picture of me kissing the van.  I am that thankful for it.)

vignettes

vignette: a small pleasing picture or view







"A child won't notice"

is a very bad and untrue thing to admit into your mind.

A child will be affected by originality, beauty and creativity.

And a child in a Christian home should connect being in communication with the Creator God

with having been made creative, in His image.

Rather than being squashed out it should be enhanced and developed

because of being in a Christian home,

not in spite of it!

Edith Schaeffer, Hidden Art of Homemaking, pg.74

I read Edith Schaeffer's insightful book on art, design, homemaking and the Christian long ago, before marriage and children, and little bits of it float into my consciousness from time to time;  I pulled it out today and scanning it I am surprised by how much it influenced me.

This vignette thing my kids do. . . not original with me.  But it's so fun and that's why I'm passing it along.

We have spots for centerpieces on our coffee table (living room)  and on our dining room table.  These are places where the most mundane of items can be set on display, where our own house can be a museum and a place to thoughtfully consider

a jar of pencils

two rocks (hopefully not snitched from the landscaping project of someone else)

flower arrangements

tiny globes

words on scrabble tiles (i love you, jd rocks, o how He loves us)

cap gun

pretty jar of jellybeans

tiny toy animals.

Sometimes I arrange them, but not often.  My ratio is usually 1:beauty 1:functionality 1:quirky and it is amazing how the kids pick up and this and will create their own or add to mine.

Yes, that is a giraffe harnessed to the wagon.  No, that was not my idea.

I love that my home is my canvas and that I am married to a guy who lets me paint with broad brushstrokes. . . but I want to be that way for my kids too.  Too often I find myself squashing creativity (don't put the giraffe in the wagon, giraffes don't pull wagons);  when stopping

and thinking

and considering

can lead to great little conversations and windows into my kids' hearts.

oh, vbs

I wish I could remember more about this iconic summer event from my own childhood, but sadly, the only thing that comes to mind is a vague recollection of puppets,  Kool-Aid and a musty church basement smell.

Well that, and the thing that I really remember. . .

You know, those VBS offerings. . .  always going to a mission project.  Our kids are giving toward a well for an orphanage in Africa this week.  My VBS experience was no different. . . except I asked Mom and Dad for money instead of giving my own.  I must have been really naughty young, because I took the dollar bill they gave me and the dollar bill designated for Caleb, my brother, into the back yard.  At my direction, we cut both dollars up in strips and used them for tickets to play amusement park. We even fed them through the slats in the fence.  (It felt like we were putting them in a pop machine.) 

Poor Dad.  He about went through the roof.  I think we had to go gather all the strips from the neighbor's yard.  I do remember offering to tape them back together, but Dad said that just wouldn't work.

I take full responsibility for this wastefulness.  (not your fault, bro.)  What can I say, I guess I've always been creative. 

Our kids are having a blast this week at VBS.  It is one of the highlights of their year. There is just so much work that goes into events like this and I'm so thankful to belong to such a church . . . full of so many selfless people who want to serve the community and especially children. 

So fun.

And so far nobody has scissored their offering money.

top 10 from this week

Top Ten Highlights from my week.

1.  Running out of Drugtown* with a loaf of bread for pb & j and running into Janice, who works for MFD; she gave me this to replay all.week.long: "Hey you look like you've lost weight! You look great!"  I love you Janice!!

*PS Drugtown refers to a drugstore.  My family always freaks out when I say that I ran to Drugtown.  They think we could come up with a less-ominous sounding name.  It's true, we could.

2. Vying for second place is the Robin Mark worship concert we were able to go to share in. I am always so overwhelmed by the way his music moves his listeners to worship Jesus.  Definite favorite from this concert was the song that follows.  Daniel reached over and squeezed my shoulder hard as Robin Mark sang about some only stay for a brief passing moment; and my whole soul just bursts as I listen to all the claims of Jesus that I believe.  Awe-inspiring worship. 


The concert had some funny moments involving some flag-waving audience members (you gotta love us Christians and our semi-weird sub-cultures) that had us googling Tim Hawkins when we got home. If it weren't for the sheer logistical impossibility, I would think that the worship javelin part came directly from Thursday night.


*and for those wondering. . . I'm from that genre of people who need the hand raising lessons, so this is hysterical to me.  I just.can't.unglue.my hands from my sides.

3. Three whole days with Aunt E, Kamie & Blake.  We crammed a ton of sister/cousin time in!

4. Last Love & Respect class.  Totally teared up listening to each one share what God has taught them.  Super special summer group.

5. Witnessing the awesomeness that is Loren. . . seriously, she has to steal all the fun mom awards.  Jace's bd party: Drive in movie theater (they built each child a car out of boxes) in the back yard. So so so cute.  She even gave them dollar bills  for concessions.  Mmm. . . our kids are so blessed to have Pastor Jake and Loren in their lives. 

6. Reading this hilariously funny book on parenting. 

It's very very secular but I am fascinated by how many Biblical principles are woven throughout the book; God so knows what He's doing.  Pamela Druckerman is a gifted writer and I feel like I get to visit Paris in between the rest of the things I have going on this week.

7. We got our Chick-Fil-A on:

oh yeah.



8. I'm sorry, but this whole chalkboard paint thing. . . is this to 2012 what orange shag carpet was to 1972? I can't change. I love it. I want it everywhere.

9.  And doesn't this just look like something worth blowing your diet for?!

I saw it on pinterest last week and just had to try it out. I don't make cakes- they always flop for me- but this one looked worth risking failure again.  I even had to go buy layer cake pans.  Anyway, the Domestic Rebel's (what kind of name is that, anyway?) recipe was way too complicated, and though I'm not a domestic rebel, I shortened this up a lot. 

Yellow cake mix, according to package directions + stir in one pkg. vanilla pudding

Bake in two round layer cake pans.

Cool.

Mix cookie dough filling:

1 stick butter

1/2 c. brown sugar

1 t. vanilla

1 c. flour

3 T. milk

1/2 c. mini chocolate chips

*{this is the topping for Deeann's infamous cookie dough brownies- credit where credit is due}

I pressed the cookie dough into waxed paper lined round cake pan and then flopped it on top of layer #1, topped with layer #2 and then frosted.

Frosting:

1 can cream cheese frosting

3 T. brown sugar

2 T. flour

1/4 cup mini chocolate chips, for sprinkling

Mix well and spread onto cake. Top with chocolate chips.

So I think this will be good.  Each individual component has been delish, but I haven't sampled a whole piece yet.  It's chilling in the fridge, waiting for Sunday dinner. 

10. Totally rocked my school planning prep. There's this little thing called Form A that you have to fill out and turn into your school district as well as each students course of study for the year.  It's a little daunting but since I planned everything in APRIL  it took me about ten minutes to do the paperwork.  I am not bragging.  It is not bragging when a normally disorganized person has a small moment of organizational triumph. You just sort of bask in it, feeling calm and wondering if this is the way organized people feel all the time.  You do this until something clatters out of the cupboard because you stuffed it there (while you were planning the school stuff in April).

Happy Weekend!