You dropped the bomb on me...

is what I will be singing, or rather croaking, tomorrow morning after a two hour family fun skate night with friends. Eeeyowie!

These dogs are barking! The bunion is burgeoning! The blister is blossoming! My feet will never be the same again. And there are muscles calling me unpleasant things, reminding me that there are very valid reasons for not trying to skate once a certain person has reached a certain thirty-something age. I'll just have to claim decreasing ability to hear because of age.

Honestly though, I was one grooving mama in my roller skates, the old timey kind because my platform requires the four-wheeling platform and not the four-wheeled blade. It took a few laps to recall the whole left, right, left, right pattern but then, it was like riding a bike--with like riding a bike soreness that follows too. Hands to the side...balance...BALANCE....glide, glide, glide...skate, skate...turn, turn, quickly turn....balance.

Skating at the rink brought back other kinds of pre-adolescent memories--the disco ball, colored lights, too loud music, couple skate, skate tricksters and speedsters, and 12 year old romances giggled over with friends. Those were the days. Days I'm glad to be through with entirely, unless one day I'm the not cool mom sitting on the side watching my sons skate.

Truth be told, I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and the pleased as punch grin of fun on my friend's daughter's face was worth a thousand words. Thanks for the invitation--what a blast from the past!

(And the cats didn't starve because on the way home I bought a bag of dry cat food for them. See, everyone is happy.)

The cats might starve...

because we are completely out of dry cat food. I've told them they will just have to live on their *ample* fat reserves--that or eat Christmas cookies.

I could go to the grocery store and buy more cat food, but I am alone at my house. The great man, really great I'm thinking right about now, took the 3 future greats to the "property" for a fun day of four wheeler riding, hiking, target shooting & just general "I'm all boy" moments with their cousins and uncle. Woo Hoo! I believe is the proper response.

So I'm home alone--working on some studies, reading some books, taking down some Christmas decorations, thinking about seeing a movie--all by myself. Woo Hoo! again.

The idea of going out just to buy cat food, well, it's not on the top 10 list for things to do today.

Ergo, the cats just might starve.

Get. These. Christmas. Cookies. Out. Of. This. House.

Seriously! I may never wear the clothes given to me for Christmas if 1) someone doesn't get these cookies out of here or 2) I exercise some self-discipline and quit feeding them into my mouth!

But they're so good! And it will be a whole year before I make them again! And it's just a nibble! The excuses leave a bitter taste, but the cookies sure are sweet.

I suppose the third option would be to let the boys have cookies after every meal, even breakfast. Yeah, that would make me a super cool mom. And they'll certainly burn the calories. I'm liking this idea more and more. And what better way to have them use those new toothbrushes that were in their stockings? A solution may be occurring even as I type!

Boys, it's dessert time all the time until the cookies are gone!

Merry Christmas!

It's been a full day of unwrapping & exclaiming, whooping & hollering, thanking & hugging! What a great day!

I remember being sad as a teenager thinking that Christmas for me as an adult would never be as exciting as it had been for me as a child because my parents went to great lengths to make the whole day magical. I never thought I could replicate that magic. But as a parent now, albeit with some different traditions of Christmas, there is still something quite incredible in seeing my sons experience the excitement and pleasure in receiving and opening and enjoying gifts. The morning started with Happy Birthday, Jesus and just increased in tempo from there.

I love to see their joyful faces & hear the excited shouts of discovery. And of particular delight to me is how Christmas thankfulness shortcuts any usual sibling quarreling or discontent. That may come tomorrow and will be dealt with accordingly.

But for today, it was just plain merry--to have family all around, to hear laughter and to see smiles--what a terrific gift!

I hope that your Christmas was merry as well! All hail, the Savior is born!

On Saturday...

I did not wake up with a renewed temperament or attitude because I was up too stinking late the night before being beaten at canasta--twice!--by my dad and my husband! Eeeeegads! It was ghastly! The cards could not have been worse. Every hand contained the Old Maid.

So I went to bed peeved and annoyed with myself for being peeved over a silly card game and peeved that it was so late and extremely annoyed with myself for being peeved that it was so late because I was peeved over a silly card game....yada, yada, yada. It was after midnight and this Christmas elf should have been in bed long before.

Saturday morning was my only hope for sleeping in and instead of my alarm waking me (I'd taken care of that by turning it off!) I awoke to the sounds of two future greats, not being so great, quarreling over a Lego piece.

Well, it almost went downhill from there and for a time it did go downhill because arguments over toys around here almost always result in stuff reduction--their stuff. I had them open every drawer, storage box and cabinet; every shelf, closet nook and cranny and under the bed was searched for errant, improperly stewarded toys.

"Organization will rule!" was the decree from snappish, haven't slept off the peeved feeling yet mom. And the games of stuff reduction began. First step is putting all like things together. Second step is throwing away broken and incomplete pieces, sets, etc. Third step is establishing the give away pile. Fourth step is reorganization of storage for remaining pieces. Fifth step is hauling the trash away. Sixth step is wiping the blood, sweat and tears that ensues from the melee.

Actually most of it occurred without too much harangue because all three were evidently aware of the connection between the wrapped parcels downstairs, their names on gift tags and mom's temperament. Delicately, delicately they worked.

And then I let them eat breakfast.

But before I went to eat breakfast I had to go to the closet and confess my peeved attitude, ask for forgiveness and most of all, for help to behave in the Spirit the rest of the day. God was faithful in answering. The rest of the day was extremely productive, beyond my wildest dreams in that my mom and dad accomplished mucho organization in the library, schoolroom and boys' bedroom.

That type of cleaning will do much for renewing an attitude and temperament. But prayer does more.

Psalm 51:7, 10 "Purify me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow. Create in me a clean heart, O God, And renew a steadfast spirit within me."

Every year about this time...

I start to feel a little bit panicky about the Christmas present thing. Have I remembered gifts for everyone? Is *she* giving me a gift and if *she* does, then do I have something to give back to *her*? Have I found all the gifts for the boys that I've been stashing for the past year? And oh for goodness sake, what am I going to put in the stockings this year besides the traditional M&Ms and toothbrushes? (yes, I know it's a contradictory combination, but it works!)

It's that nagging feeling of "What am I missing?" Similar to the whole "Honey, I think I left the iron on" scenario that occurs 23 miles from home after you've all ready left 14 minutes late. It's very unsettling. And most years I can just dismiss it, chalk it up to the accumulated busyness that's been going on and drink another cup of Chai tea. Except for the glaring reminder of the Bionicles on my kitchen counter.

Two months ago my oldest was downstairs in the basement hammering away with some bent nails on some scrap lumber. He was intent on his creation. I heard the hammering stop and after about 15 minutes, his pounding feet were on their way upstairs. When he came inside, his words jumbled out, "Hey mom, I was looking for some more wood and I saw this box and it had some sawdust on top of it so I thought it might have some more wood inside of it and so I looked and there was a Star Wars ship in there and some books and one of those little Lego things that I got at my birthday and a cowboy belt and a little bow and arrow and oh yeah, some Bionicles. "

"WHAT???"

And he repeated the whole thing.

"Honey, I don't know what you're talking about. Would you please bring the box upstairs and I'll look at it."

"Sure, mom!"

He brings the box upstairs and lo and behold, inside the contents revealed all that he had related plus a couple of Christmas ornaments---and that's when I remembered that these *treasures* belonged to the pile of presents that I had purchased for my darling children TWO YEARS AGO!
Aaaack!

I dispensed all the gifts right then and there---except for the Bionicles. Those things are now banned from the house FOREVER! That's a whole other post.

Anyway, do you see why I'm feeling unsettled? Who knows what other box of treasures might be stored in the basement. Where's the Chai tea?

Conversations with a room mom

Me: I've been thinking about what sort of activity we should do for our class Christmas party. What ideas do you have?

Room mom: Wow! I'm so glad that you asked because I was thinking that you could haul all the boys out to Target or WalMart or just some other equally super crowded place swarming with last minute shoppers, and then painstakingly go through the candy aisle to try and decide what sugar filled treat will look most like window panes on the gingerbread houses I'm designing in my mind.

Me: Oh, do you really think it's necessary to have the boys work on gingerbread houses? I mean, do they really need all that candy? Do you, I mean I, really need all of that mess?

Room mom: I can't believe that you'd ask a question like that. I mean, won't your boys feel deprived and therefore, won't you be considered a neglectful, Scroogish and Grinchlike mom for not providing them with candy laden houses that are arguably just too cute? By the way, instead of using traditional gingerbread or graham crackers, I was thinking that to create a stucco like effect we, I mean you, could square off some vanilla wafers. What do you think?

Me: Well, I'm not too keen on that whole carving vanilla wafers thing. But to answer your first question, no, I don't think I'm being Scroogish or Grinchlike to ixnay the ouseshay. I let them have candy and cookies. Trust me, they'll think me a lot more Scroogish or heck, even Marley's ghost of terror and horror, if I have to figure out some gingerbread project thingy. I say we, I mean I, will just buy a roll of sugar cookie dough, let them press out some shapes and sprinkle sparkles to their hearts' content. How about that?

Room mom: I guess that would work. But you know what other people will say about it.

Me: Yes, they'll say "Why, didn't I think of that." Now, let's talk about what you, I mean I, am going to get for my end of year present.

Third day update

Well, it's the third day of homeschooling, and at last check I still had a head of hair and none have turned shock white in the past 72 hours. I also looked at the future greats and all three still had their heads. Obviously I can't claim any veteran success at only day 3, but I can say what has delighted me in the last 72 hours.

1) The future greats receive an additional 45 minutes of sleep which does wonders for their temperaments and attitudes.
2) Reference #1 and factor in how it helps my temperament and attitude.
3) I receive an additional 30 minutes of sleep which does wonders for my temperament and attitude.
4) Reference #3 and factor in how it helps the general household climate.
5) Breakfast is just breakfast with no spelling tests, math facts, phonogram reviews, or finishing touches on "parent homework" (otherwise known as projects).
6) Parenting opportunities that arise are efficiently dealt with by a mom with renewed temperament & attitude (see #1 & #3).
7) Parenting opportunities that arise are received by any future great with renewed temperament & attitude (see #1 & #3).
8) Daddy gets to eat lunch with us all--most days so far.
9) Lunch means school is finished.
10) School is finished at lunch which means there is no homework.
11) School is finished at lunch which means that with the current seasonably warm weather being experienced, all future greats head outside for "recess" and "physical education".
12) #11 plus "free" and/or "alone" time for mom is now in my own house amongst my own comforts instead of in a carpool line.
13) There is no carpool, unless there's a logjam of bodies in the hall or on the stairs while coming downstairs for breakfast.
14) There are no school uniforms, unless you count the track pants and Batman t-shirts as one.
15) Sitting on the couch snuggling and reading with the future greats counts for language arts.
16) Learning with the future greats instead of having to call another mom and figure out what in the world the homework means.
17) Learning that when a future great understands a concept I can move him on to the next lesson rather than have him frustrated and bored at the slower speeds otherwise required.
18) I can teach and prepare supper at the same time.
19) I can teach and drink coffee at the same time--could have probably done this anyway but doing anything and drinking coffee at the same time just seemed to be a bonus.
20) They like the stickers and stamps that I give out for well done work.

That's just a current observable top twenty for the time being. I hope to be able to add to the list. Today just seemed to be a keynote of blessing that God has allowed for our lives. I promise to be authentic though and also write in on the days that even renewed temperaments and attitudes do not hold up under the pressures.

But today was a blessing and for everyone who likes to say, "I'm just taking it one day at a time." This was a day to take, to enjoy, and for which to be thankful.

It's a Carnival!

When I think of carnivals I'm transported back as a child to memories that cause me to immediately smell popcorn and cotton candy, buttery grilled corn and killer-sweet funnel cakes. I can hear calliope music and the din of a crowd pushing to ride the ferris wheel, hear the bells and whistles of carnival games and the banter of callers urging people to pay "$5.00 for 3 balls! Knock the pins down!".

So obviously when I first entered the blogging world and read about these "carnivals" I only had childhood memories as a reference. Blogging carnivals don't have the popcorn and cotton candy, although you could probably snack on such things while reading. And blog carnivals don't feature calliope music, although some sophisticated sites do have music accompaniment. However, the point of a blog carnival is not unlike the enjoyment of a childhood carnival. As a child I was amazed at all the fascinating things that the carnival provided from the Bearded Lady to the Smallest/Strongest Man in the World. At blog carnivals I'm thrilled by all of the good writing. Many talented people from all over the blogging world gather before an inquisitive audience to read others' writings on all sorts of topics related to a particular theme. A blogging carnival is a menagerie of ideas on one theme.

And by golly, balls of jolly, I decided to jump in and join the Carnival of Homeschooling. So if you're so inclined and would like to read about some varied topics related to homeschooling, please go visit at Principled Discovery for the 51st Carnival of Homeschooling. No callers will try to have you flip the penny in the plate at only $2.50 a chance. And you'll have to bring your own popcorn and funnel cake. But it's well worth the visit! Have fun at the Carnival!

World's worst wrapping award goes to....

Me!! Yes, indeedy! I'm a paper stretching piecer who is spatially challenged when it comes to figuring out the size of the paper to the gift. But in receipt of today's award I want to thank everyone involved in the whole Christmas paper wrapping scam, I mean, business.

I'd like to especially thank the wrapping paper companies who do not spend extra to have printed lines on one side of the paper for people like myself who are cut-in-a-straight-line-with-scissors challenged. I also want to thank the tape companies who thoughtfully produce handy dispensers that do not shear the tape cleanly with one pull but instead require multiple pulls whereby each yank creates an imprint on the tape and results in a wadded mess.

I'm particularly fond of wrapping paper that is virtually transparent, allowing curious children to see what's wrapped, although when rolled up on the tube seemed impenetrably thick due to the depicted nose-glowing reindeer antics. And don't let me forget to thank the various stores that sell wrapping paper in one size only at highway robbery prices even though virtually every gift needing wrapping requires super-sized paper at terroristic prices.

Ah, yes, the joy of wrapping is heralded around here with elfin glee. Maybe you're thinking, "Just go to gift bags." Well, dear reader, that option has been tried but a couple of things keep coming up, 1) 3 curious children and 2) 2 curious cats. Plus the fact that to buy a gift bag large enough to hold certain gifts, I'd have to tack on an additional $12.00 per gift! I use them when I can because even I, a defunct wrapper, can wad and stuff some tissue paper around a gift.

In fact, gift bags aren't the only concession made around here for those curious cats. I had to give up pretty bows on all the packages years ago because of cat #1's penchant for eating them and then yacking the pretty bow all over the carpet. Cat #2 loves to stick his neck through a ribbon and then haul his fluffy tail around the house believing the package to be possessed and chasing him. No shortcuts on Christmas entertainment, here!

So, to the trenches for wrapping. A task that must be done simply because there's nothing quite like the flurry of unwrapping that occurs Christmas morn to make all the bad wrapping jobs quite so worthwhile!

First day...

Today was the first day of homeschooling--official homeschooling now duly noted on the school board books official, with the whole capital "O" Official!

Wow! Am I glad that first day is over! And not because the first day was horrible. In fact, the first day was actually quite good, pretty encouraging, and filled with those moments of "Gee, I'm glad I'm doing this and not doing what I would have been doing."

I'm glad that the first day is over because the "first day" has all its moments of anticipation and associated fear that come with any big venture. Like, the first time you spend the night at your parents' house as a married couple or the first time you give birth. Lots of anticipation and associated fear!

Really, though, today was truly nice. The future greats were allowed to sleep in until 7:15 but they woke up early and excited so decided to get up and get ready. I had told them the night before that they had until 8:00 to accomplish their morning tasks--breakfast, room, brushing teeth, etc. Any free time between their tasks and 8:00 was theirs to use within all ready known parameters.

Then at 8:00 we prayed together--me mostly for myself--and we sang Christmas hymns together and discussed what the hymns meant. The boys worked on math--I actually taught a fractions lesson (I realize that any good friends reading this just fell off their computer desk chairs onto the floor--get some smelling salts, will ya?) We also did history, Bible, spelling, memory work, recitation, handwriting, phonograms, reading comprehension, independent reading and group reading. At times I gave the littlest one "learning centers" to do while I worked with the older two. And when I was working individually with the littlest one, the older two did their independent reading.

God definitely blessed the day. I was really blessed at actually seeing them learn, and it was truly fun to watch them discover things. I was reminded of seeing them as babies "find" their hands or feet or realize that a toy made a certain rattle.

I know that today was just a taste of how good it can be, and I know that other days won't run that well at all. But for today I was just truly thankful that when I remember back to the "first day", it will be a sweet and precious memory.

Psalm 30:12 "That my soul may sing praise to Thee, and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to Thee forever."

Decorating with any of these?

While trying to name that Christmas tune, one of the future greats said, "Oh yeah, that one's deck the halls with balls of jolly."

It was everything I could do not to snort my coffee.

Hmmm, where did I put those jolly balls?

Big changes

We've made big changes around here lately. We've taken the leap to homeschool. The three future greats were at a private school. We've not ever been opposed to homeschooling although I didn't think myself capable, number one; and number two, we were content with the private school.

God changed both circumstances. He moved my heart to seriously consider and desire a greater involvement in my son's schooling. He moved my husband's heart to seriously consider and desire a greater involvement in our son's schooling. And He allowed changes at the private school to occur that caused us both to desire a different environment. God is a God of big changes apparently.

At a Thanksgiving service at our church, my husband gave thanks for the changes citing that not only had God changed our hearts but He had allowed us to be just uncomfortable enough in present circumstances to also desire changes. God is the author of big changes obviously.

So now well supported by the research done into all the possibles of homeschooling, I'm depending on God for more big changes. Things like greater patience, greater self-discipline, greater time management, and greater appreciation for big changes. Well supported by church family and friends, I'm thankful for their prayers and practical help. Well supported by family, who while not completely sure of the outcome, are trusting in the time and effort we've taken to make this decision. Well supported, we move forward knowing that God will continue to make big changes.

Here's to serving a God of big changes!

Where and how do you choose to serve?

I know that everyone has something to do. There are more opportunities to serve than there is time to serve. So how do you choose where you're going to serve?

I've always had a problem with saying no when asked to serve, particularly when the expressed need was felt personally.

It was first my husband who put the governor on my wheels so to speak. I remember resenting it at first because being needed filled a hole in myself. But when you personally fill every hole that needs filling, you end up actually being swiss cheese yourself. So he instituted a policy of "everytime you say yes to one thing, you must say no to something else". The one for one policy helped me learn some priorities because I really had to want to do the "something" to be willing to give up another "something". Over time as I learned the whole prioritizing, I realized that my God-given talents were actually best used on somethings and weren't meant to be used at all on others.

For example, I love teaching the Bible. I currently teach a ladies' Bible study that I'm passionate about, and I pray that God is glorified in my service. I know myself to be completely dependent on Him for the time necessary to do all of the reading, study and preparation essential to being able to teach. And although God has given me a love for speaking in that it comes naturally and without too many nerves, I recognize that unless the Holy Spirit fills me for the teaching and prompts the hearts to receive, my words will fall empty.

On the other hand, one time I helped organize a consignment sale. I'm not nearly as talented with organizational skills as I desire to be, and the whole interpersonal ego/female dramas that occur with such a sale bring out the road rage person in me that I'd like to forget even exists. My "gift" for speaking becomes warped and sarcastic, certainly not glorifying to God at all. And although the money raised by the sale went to help worthy causes, I delighted in the personal gain the sale gave as well--maybe even too much.

Arguably, depending on God for both types of service is necessary. Humanly though, in the first case I know myself to be needy of His intervention, and constantly call out to Him for help. With the second case, I behaved in my own strength & all the stretch marks showed.

Conclusion: In having to choose where to serve, I wholeheartedly desire serving God in areas where I know myself to be most needful of His help. Otherwise I selfishly look to my own strengths, which end up not being strengths at all. My sin nature perverts them to weaknesses. But when I embrace my lack--of time, knowledge, skill, organization, wisdom, etc--God shows up gloriously to have His name proclaimed as the One who did in me and through me what I can not do in myself. It's scary, in my flesh, to be so "needy" of help when I'd rather feel myself capable. But when I feel myself to be "so capable", my flesh is scary.

Guess that's what Paul learned in 2 Corinthians 12:9 "And He has said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may dwell in me."

Setting the bar

Christian discipleship has always had a bar, a measure, a standard. In the OT, the bar was called the Law of Moses and no one, save Christ, met its requirement, although many died, physically and spiritually, trying.

In Romans, Paul tackles the question that if no one can meet the bar, then is it an unjust bar? Is it an unjust God who sets it? Is it a wrong measure to even have?

And Paul clearly reminds his readers that the bar is completely just, the God who set the bar is completely just and the bar's purpose is completely just. Paul even contends that those who live under grace by faith should still meet the bar.

So what has happened in believers today who claim to live under grace by faith but reject the notion and purpose of the bar when it comes to the practical details of Christian living? I'm not talking about a legalist notion of the "shall nots" and "should nots", although there is in great measure wisdom for choosing not to do certain things, ie. gluttonous eating is bad for your health. More particularly I'm talking about being willing and desirous of Christian living that understands and appreciates the value of costly commitment.

Personally I think God would blow open the doors of heaven to His people for embracing commitment at cost. We don't serve a dollar store God, and we shouldn't expect dollar store commitment to last--either eternally or otherwise.

I pray God will continue to cause me to count the cost, and I trust that His imperishable riches are enough to fund the cost through me.

1 Corinthians 3:11-15 "For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. If any man builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, his work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each man's work. If what he has built survives, he will receive his reward. If it is burned up, he will suffer loss; he himself will be saved, but only as one escaping through the flames."

A hamster on a wheel

Currently I feel like a hamster on a wheel.

The future greats are back in school with even the littlest future great having started (and loving) kindergarten. Maybe conventional wisdom would say that things should start opening up with all the time I now have--I mean, really, all three of my boys are in school at least some part of the day. So why do I feel like I'm the hamster on the wheel just spinning, and spinning, and spinning?

Perhaps because when the future greats are at home, I must be organized or nothing gets done and we all spin the wheel. And I'm now being faced with the daunting task of disciplining myself for the "open" time. As the Bible study I attend is starting up, I see this task taking shape of its own accord!

Additionally, all of the many after school activities have started up so I seem to always be in the minivan running someone somewhere. And we're one of those families who only allow each child to have one "extra" activity. The oldest fences one night a week, the next plays soccer--here's the rub because practice is twice a week with games all weekend--and the youngest has nothing but to be his brothers' greatest cheerleader/fan.

Even as I've just typed that out I realize I've answered my own question of why I feel like a hamster on the wheel. It is certainly taking some time this year to adjust and re-adjust to the "back-to-school" schedule.

Maybe I should eat more carrots....

To God Be the Glory

To God be the Glory was the only thing I could say today. And not because great and glorious things were happening. In fact, quite the opposite was occurring.

Something that I care a great deal about, that I have invested much time and energy into seemed to be threatened by the enemy. You know, that old garden enemy that slithereth around and wreaketh havoc.

And the enemy's attack came right after a tremendous weekend of renewal and reminder that I serve a victorious Lord. Just when I should have suspected an ambush, I was too busy basking in glow and moving ahead with *my* plans.

So he came, he struck, he bruised.

I cried, I prayed, I sang.

He came, He died, He lives.

Enemy, watch out. He holds the keys to your destruction, and I still serve Him.

Knowing Whom you believe means you can confidently, even if out of tune, sing "To God Be the Glory!"

"I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between her offspring and your offspring; He shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise His heel." Genesis 3:15

What my children have taught me about God

Jules over at Everyday Mommy is hosting a writing contest for moms on the topic "what my children have taught me about God." Easily that topic could be the fodder for numerous entries when I consider daily the ways these future greats humble me before my Father. When I have to discipline, I'm reminded that He disciplines those whom He loves. When I have a good gift to give them, I'm reminded that He always gives good gifts. When I hurt over a pain in their lives, physical or emotional, I'm reminded that He knows all the sorrows known to me. When I am impatient, I'm reminded that He is everlastingly patient with me.

As you can see, I could go on and on simply because the topic and its lessons are in daily operation for this mom of future greats. So when actually trying to distill the lessons down into an essay I thought mostly about how God even made me a mom. Me--the woman who didn't want to get married and certainly didn't want to have children. Me--selfishly ambitious for the tinsel of the world instead of the treasures of the Kingdom. All of that is it's own story by itself, but I'm humbled again at just remembering the ways the Potter has had to mold this lump of clay called Me.

Anyway, I write all that to say that being a mom has been both better and harder than anything or any other career that I could have taken. I'm awed that God chose me to be a mom, and I'm infinitely thankful that not only has He used the process to teach me about Himself but that He continues to teach me through these precious lives. The following is my essay.

My children have taught me much about God and the way He graciously operates in this world for the sake of His people. God has blessed me with four boys and daily their lives remind me of God's presence, promise, provision and providence. Here is some of their story.

My first child taught me about the presence of God. James was born into my presence in 1994. He was arguably the most beautiful child I had ever seen. He became ill at 3 months old. The next two and a half years were spent in and out of hospitals, in and out of treatments against a genetic disease that robbed him of developmental skills, health and a "normal" life. But disease was never able to deprive him of love or laughter or the preciousness of life. James was born into the presence of God in 1996. During his difficult two and a half years, I struggled with God as Jacob did, pleading for a blessing for my son, for myself. I cried out for His mercy on my son, on myself. I railed against the genetic curse on my son, on myself. And when James took his last breath in my arms, I knew and yearned for that very presence of God. Heaven and its promise has all fullness and imperishable understanding for me as I consider its glory and hope. James taught me to yearn for my true home, in the presence of God.

My second child taught me about the promise of God. Nate came into my life in 1997. He was born at only 28 weeks, weighing 2 pounds, 11 ounces and only 14 1/2 inches long. He was arguably the tiniest baby I had ever seen. We adopted Nate only 9 months after James' death and every detail of his adoption was handcrafted by God to the tiniest degree. From the first moments of seeing him, holding him, I was continually reminded by God's words "Thus says the Lord, your Redeemer, who formed you from the womb: 'I am the Lord, who made all things, who alone stretched out the heavens, who spread out the earth by myself," that all God's promises are true. Nate's full name is Nathanael for Philip's friend who wondered if anything good could have come from Nazareth. Nate has indeed taught me that the ultimate and greatest good not only came from Nazareth but He still lives today, keeping His promises to His people to the tiniest degree. Nate teaches me to live like a child of God, trusting in the promises of God.

My third child taught me about the provision of God. Matthew came into my life in 2000. He was arguably the oldest baby I had ever seen at 26 months old with a head full of curly hair and a past just as full of chaotic details. We adopted Matthew after having tried to adopt unsuccessfully for 2 years. Every event of Matthew's life has taught me that in the provision of God, I am not forgotten. He is continually at work sanctifying me and removing the years that the locusts have eaten. He is not finished with me and by His word provides the transformation that I need to be fully His child. Matthew's name means "gift of God," and he teaches me even by his own difficulties, that the provision of God is always that of good and precious gifts.

My fourth child taught me about the providence of God. Samuel came into my life in 2001. He was arguably the most surprising baby I had ever seen because he was born to me when I thought that pregnancy was impossible and genetic disease too probable. Samuel was born without the genetic disease that stole the life of his brother, James. During my pregnancy I had prayed with the fervor of Hannah that this child's life be spared and God did indeed grant me what I had asked of Him. While I learned that prayer is both for my obedience and blessing, God also taught me about His real and majestic sovereignty. With James, the answer to prayer was his eventual death, and the answer to prayer with Samuel was his life unaffected by the genetic disease, and it is only God who has the power to answer thus with any person. Through Samuel He continues to teach me that above all, He alone reigns supreme to do as He wills with His sons and daughters for His glory and their good.

Presence, promise, provision and providence--all of my children have taught me much of God and His love for His children. May I continue to be a child at His feet, learning from the precious ones He has given me for my blessing and inheritance.

"Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it." Luke 18:17

Good day....Bad day?

Bad day: could not pull myself out of bed to exercise like I needed to today. Chalked it up to the pain in my left heel. Bad excuse.

Good day: checking email and received an email from the past from a dear friend reconnecting. How exciting and sweet it was! Plus some other emails from friends reminding me that God is still in control. Good moment.

Bad day: felt unfocused and overwhelmed with all that has to be accomplished in the next week before school starts and other responsibilities. Bad organization.

Good day: future greats went right to playing with one another happily so that I could work on some of the pile on my desk. Good sons.

Bad day: lost my temper with future greats whose playing quickly degenerated into tsunami like behavior with millions of little pieces of Legos, K'Nex, Star Wars and assorted other things. Bad lecture.

Good day: everyone refocused on positive stewardship of toys and time and cooperation with one another to accomplish some household chores. Good work.

Bad day: while future greats profitably engaged, the Blue Duke of Disaster, et al. the cat, jumped onto the dining room table and knocked over an entire bottle of water to flood dozens of very important registration cards needed for upcoming Bible study. Bad frustration.

Good day: oldest future great jumped in to help me sort out wet cards onto paper towels scattered all over dining room and put up a small fan to help them dry. Good thought.

It's only 2:19 EST. I'm exhausted and wondering what the verdict of the day will be by tonight.

Psa 138:7 Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou wilt revive me: thou shalt stretch forth thine hand against the wrath of mine enemies, and thy right hand shall save me.
Psa 138:8 The LORD will perfect that which concerneth me: thy mercy, O LORD, endureth for ever: forsake not the works of thine own hands.

Just the laugh I needed

I don't know who wrote this gem of an essay about public restrooms but I received it in an email today from a friend. Somehow she must have known I needed a belly laugh like this one. Thanks, friend. Hope you enjoy it as well.


Public Restrooms..........


When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of
women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn,
you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman
leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't
matter.

The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's mom, no
doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook,
if there were one, but there isn't - - so you carefully, but quickly,
drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put
it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance." In
this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd
love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat
or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance." To take your mind
off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the
EMPTY toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mom's
voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have
KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more. You remember
the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's
still in your purse. That would have to do. You crumple it in the
puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than your thumbnail.


Some one pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn't work. The
door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your
chest, and you and your purse topples backward against the tank of the
toilet. "OCCUPIED!" you scream, as you reach for the door dropping your
precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your
footing altogether, and slide down directly on the TOILET SEAT. It is
wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.
Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life
form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper -
not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know your
mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain,
her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, "frankly,
dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get." By this
time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that
it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose that somehow
sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the toilet
paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At that point, you
give up.

You are soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're
exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket
and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. Now, you can't figure
out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe
your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of
women still waiting.

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the
very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from
your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from
your shoe, plunk it into the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here,
you just might need this."

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and
left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and
why is your purse hanging around your neck?"

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restroom
(REST??? - You've got to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men
what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly
asked question about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the
other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex
under the door !!!!!!