State of Departure

         I have been quiet for while because we have big news, and I was waiting till it was completely official. My hubby has a new job in Kansas that he begins on Monday. I had been preparing my heart for a new job for quite some time now (here's the post from September concerning that--in case you missed it), but I was unsure if it would mean a move. It was a great joy to me that we were able to be at our current location for the birth of our baby in January; but when my hubby talked to me about looking for jobs after his birth, I confirmed that I would indeed be happy to follow where he would like to lead our family. As much as everyone (including my hubby) loves our current home, the past few months have brought a lot of changes with his job that have made it increasingly clear that it is not where he'd like to be. He also began seeing positions changing/eliminated and sensed that his might be next. The first night after making his decision was a very long night for me. I felt like I was processing the whole decision, and what it all entailed. Thought after thought raced into my brain like the friends and groups we'd leave behind, or all the memories about the house. With every thought that flooded my mind, I began confessing "God, I trust you!" I began asking God for his peace. When I woke up after finally falling asleep in the wee hours of the morning, I was filled with a happiness and excitement about what is ahead of us. There was a ton of prayer that went heavenward the past few weeks during this decision. My hubby had a position offered to him in our current location as well as in Kansas...and the girls and I were praying that we could stay here. My hubby really wanted to stay here as well, but the job here just wasn't as good of a fit (or as good of a financial proposition either). I know God heard our prayers asking for His will, His guidance, and to stay here. If He said no to staying here than I know He has something even better planned. So here's the amazing thing that happened the following Wednesday, May 1st. My hubby's position was eliminated (for financial reasons, not performance related reasons). God knew what would be happening the next week, and I stand amazed at how He set this all up. The timing of it blows me away. My hubby had seen that things weren't going well at work which gave him more incentive to look; but instead of him giving two weeks notice to his current boss, he ended getting severance pay...paid time off to prep our house and allow for some quality family time. Showing a house will be the hardest thing concerning moving for me. Last year, four children plus a big dog made it really challenging...add a three month old baby to that; and, well, it becomes even more challenging. I believe God has His hand in all of this; and although it is easy for me to feel overwhelmed, He has promised that I can "do ALL things through Christ who strengthens me". (Phil. 4:13)
           I could look at this as climbing the next rollercoaster, but I don't think that's what God has in mind for me. I'm looking forward to soaring with God instead. We will soon be departing Illinois. I'm setting me eyes on God and preparing for take off.
       

The Crabapple Tree

         "I am not a crabapple! I am a golden delicious! " My children have heard me utter this phrase multiple times this week, but are still yet to question why I'm saying it. Maybe it is simply the fact that a crabapple sounds like a grumpy tree, and I have been saying this when I am tempted to be grumpy. Yesterday, we found out that my hubby has been a victim of identity theft, which meant there were a few phone calls to make on my end in the investigation. I hate trying to talk on the phone with as many kids as we have. The automated systems can never understand me with all the background noise that is usually going on in our house. I often times have to lock myself in the bathroom,  and it can be very distracting to listen to a couple of children pounding at the door while I am attempting to enter "the numeric portion of your address followed by the pound sign".  Yesterday, I could quickly feel my annoyance level raising to unsafe levels, so I verbalized that I am not a "crabapple". Saying it outloud stopped my anger from raising any further. 
          You may be asking, "So what's with all the tree talk?" Our church is launching a new ministry aimed at helping people break free from the hurts of their past; and as part of this, they've done a new sermon series concerning unlocking the door to freedom. This past Sunday our pastor talked about who we are in Christ. He gave the illustration that when we accept Christ into life hearts, our old life and identity are cut off of us. God grafts His identity onto us. We start out as, say, a crabapple. However, God fits a perfect graft of a golden delicious tree top on the base of our crabapple tree. The fruit we bear is golden delicious unless we let the sucker roots grow up from our crabapple base and bear fruit. After that grafting, nobody looks at that tree as a crabapple anymore. People see the fruit produced and call it a golden delicious tree despite its base.
         This illustration was mind-boggling to me, and made me very reflective.  Could it be that I am truly changed from a crabapple because of my graft into the family of God, and it is merely a process of opening my heart to God to ask Him to find the root cause of these sucker roots like anger and negative thinking?  Each time this week that I have felt the sucker roots trying to "bear fruit" I have verbalized that this is not who I am. I am a passionate person, yes, but not a yeller by nature. I can also be realistic without being "Debbie Downer".
         My girls have noticed that I have been happier this week (note not "perfect"), and my oldest daughter hypothesized that it is the phone. It's not, of course, it is that I have hope within me...hope that I am not defined by these negative habits...hope that I really am a "golden delicious". Hope is a powerful thing.
         If you'd like to listen to the message for yourself about "getting rid of your grave clothes",  please click here.

The Death of a Stupid Phone

          My smart phone died on Friday. I was without internet access and my contact list from roughly noon on Friday till Sunday noon. We have a cell phone we use as a home line, but I don't have any of my new contacts from the past six months in there. Only a couple of people are even aware of it, so I had a nice break from the slavery a portable device can bring.
            I was land-locked from Thursday at noon till Saturday morning. The playgroup I was supposed to attend was impossible, and I was unable to host a playgroup that I had postponed for two weeks because of our bout with strep. I also couldn't attend a mom's group I usually go to on Thursday night.
          Sometimes it takes a lot to get my attention. As I blogged the first time this morning, I nearly threw my brand new phone across the room out of frustration at losing my nearly finished post somehow. I instead put my phone down, and reflected on what I should really be writing about. My original post was all about selecting my new phone. It was a little humorous, but what did it really matter anyway. 
         When I looked at the latter part of this week, I realized it had a reoccurring theme.The flood gave me a break from outside commitments. The death of my phone freed me from phone calls that I didn't initiate, texting, and the internet. I spent alot more time listening to my family. I had more time to be involved in their lives. I was a lot less aware of time. I was more present. My mom and dad were raised as Amish, and honestly some of the simplicity of that life appeals to me. When I visit cousins, I feel the same blissful break I did this past week. I am glad for the time off I had this week. However, I am glad to have access again. While I was off, a dear friend of mine lost her father and posted it on Facebook. Another friend gave me tips on my meal rut. Yet another shared a story relating their life to mine. There is a sense of community that I can have with others despite a screaming three year old, and that often preserves my sanity in this stage of my life.
         My three year old said her older sister told her that God brought the flooding to our property.  She thought it was a mean thing to do.  I told her that God is good all the time even if we can't see how. Satan wants to discourage us, but God wants to bring good even from our challenges. The flooding brought me a pause to relax and enjoy my family. I also had a chance to watch my oldest daughter show leadership as she removed tractors from our flooding barn that I had decided I wouldn't be able to move because I hadn't counted on her help. There is good in all of it if you look hard enough. Although, honestly,  sometimes I can't see it, and I have to ask God for a little illumination.
         I'm grateful for breaks from the norm because I can easily get out of balance. Where are you on the spectrum today? Are you leaning to one extreme? I challenge you to take a break if you need it. The world will still be there when you get back. The death of your stupid smart phone could be just what you need.

Please, Pass the Ketchup!

         Today is the third Thursday blog hop for Hearts at Home. The topic is "No More Perfect Meals."
I don't know that I even want to talk about this topic. It's embarrassing. I'm a pretty good cook, but I have been greatly demoralized by A) having a new baby B) feeling overwhelmed by all the illness and C) having the creative side of my brain sucked dry by teaching our girls their school lessons for the day (homeschooling has at least one downside).
          The last couple of months have consisted mainly of me getting a main course on the table, and maybe one side...if you're lucky! The main course isn't too bad, but I've pretty much stuck with things I can make without a recipe in front of me...like pizza (at least it's from scratch), spaghetti, or chicken and rice soup (every once in a while it'll be chicken and noodle soup just to keep them guessing). No one has really complained; but when one of the kids doesn't like the meal, I've noticed that they really get into their bedtime snack. My five year old will eat anything if you give her ketchup as a side. My three year old will eat anything my five year old eats because she is at that lovely copycat age. If I keep a large supply of ketchup in the house, I can easily assure two people will eat any meal. My two eldest girls don't say much other than "yum" or "yuck" if they don't like it. They are wary of getting too verbose these days about food...maybe this is because they know I'm likely to blow my fuse if they complain about the meal I made while nursing the baby and teaching math to them. My hubby happily eats what I serve, and I'm very thankful for that.
          Then, there are days like today. Our driveway started flooding yesterday; and by this morning, it was covered. My hubby left a Suburban in case I wanted to try getting out. I made the call to go out for groceries at 9:30am and I'm so glad I did. By 11:30am, parts of our road were covered on our return trip; and by 4pm, our barn was flooded. The girls moved our chickens successfully; and with the help of other neighborhood kids, we moved the lawn mowers to higher ground. It was crazy how quickly the water rushed into our yard after making it over our neighbors road. My hubby left work when I called about it coming over the road, but took him a while to find a road not flooded in order to reach us. So what was our meal tonight? It was meatloaf made by a dear friend a month ago and frozen for us to use on just such an occassion (with a side of canned peaches...see, I told you there is usually one side). So many people have blessed us with meals after the birth of our new son (to read his story click here), which has given our family such a break from my imperfect meals. A couple of weeks ago during an outbreak of strep, another dear friend took my non-germy kids to the library and provided a delicious thanksgiving casserole along with an Easter Candy Dump cake. God knows that we aren't meant to do life alone, and I'm so thankful that this imperfect mama doesn't have to do meals alone either.

What have your meals been like lately? What is your favorite go to meal?  How have you been blessed?
I'd love to hear your comments.

To read more blogs on the blog hop, click here.

Diastasis Recti

          Do you know what "Diastasis Recti" is? Up until a couple of months ago, I had no clue. After giving birth, my midwife informed that I had a significant split in my abdominal muscles. I have never been told this before, although I'm sure I must have been checked before. It just must never have been an issue (which would explain why I have no recollection of it). Anyhow, my midwife cautioned me not to attempt to sit up using my abdominal muscles and showed me how to properly modify my movements. She said that a piece of my intestines could come through this weakened area if I overexerted myself, which could then mean I'd need surgery for an umbilical hernia.
         I'm so thankful for her help and insight into this, but I began overthinking it. Every move I made to sit up quietly while holding a baby, I wondered if I'd just caused a hernia. My overactive imagination kicked into hyperdrive. Everytime I would even just lay on my side, I swear I could feel my intestines sliding out of my abdominal cavity. I would feel my tummy regularly wondering if it would heal and praying fervently about it. I even asked my small group to pray about it. I would try to remember how she had checked it, feeling great because of avoiding stitches this delivery but crippled because of this muscular separation. It was crazy how paranoid I became. Now I am a full eleven weeks out, and my gap which bridged four fingers is down to two (which is within normal parameters). At my follow-up appointment with my midwife, she even gave me special exercises to reduce the gap even more. I've starting doing them, but I need to be more consistent about it. Would you believe it took me a whole two weeks to even look through the sheet of info and attempt to do them for the first time?
          I heard my three year old yelling very loudly while I was upstairs nursing the baby one day. She was shouting, "Jesus is POWERFUL! " When I asked her about it, she said she had learned it at church. I loved her enthusiasm over it; and from time to time when I am frustrated about a situation, I holler it along with her. It seems to really put things into perspective.  My thoughts and paranoia can feel overwhelming, but as even my three year old knows there is nothing more powerful than Jesus!

A Bad Case Of The Mondays

         "Office Space" is one of the movies that I've watched with my hubby more than a handful of times. My hubby can easily quote many lines from it on command. I can tell you the basic jest of the funny lines, but never quote it word for word (I confess I had to look up the quote below). I was thinking about it a lot this weekend because I've found I have something in common with the main character. Several times in the movie, people tell himself that he's got a "bad case of the Mondays". In the movie, the main character goes to a therapist for some hypnotherapy because he feels like his life is getting progressively worse due to his horrible job. He says, "Ever since I started working, every day has been worse than the one before. That means each time you see me, that's on the worse day of my life." That's a pretty extreme statement, right? Or is it?
          Remember the fantastic day I had last week? It was followed by one if the most atrocious Mondays ever. Getting the girls to do their school work felt like pulling teeth. The baby refused to nap except in my arms, went through three changes of clothes (dozens of bibs), and nursed all day long. My five year old took a nap in late afternoon, both messing up bedtime and indicating she was ill (poor girl started running a temp later on). All of this was going on while I attempted to both prepare something for a potluck I was attending and a meal for my family to enjoy in my absence. I felt exhausted at the end of the day, but was it really that atrocious or just really challenging? I am constantly tempted to declare that this time that "you see me, that's on the worst day of my life". I compare my day to the previous, but only in the worst possible way. On that horrible Monday (actually I can't remember which day it was this past week...sleep deprivation makes the days blur together), I was so frazzled that I accidentally put a size 2 diaper on my three year old. It was only several hours later that my three year old informed me that I'd put a baby diaper on her. I had a really good laugh! That moment coupled with the fact that I was able to run, shower, and complete school with the girls long before 2pm actually would indicate a rather successful day. I also got to have some time fellowshipping with friends at the potluck that night (which only the baby attended with me...but that doesn't really even count since he slept like an angel through the entire thing). It all depends on what lens you view my day through: truth, or exaggerated negativity.
         I noticed this comparison game again on Saturday again. Being the "Potty clean-up Princess" plus the "Milk Machine" made feel like the "lord of Laundry" (or should I say "lady") because of all the unexpected loads I had to wash.
I was awakened at 1:30am and informed by my three year old that her diaper hadn't contained her accident in her bed. The baby peed out of his diaper mid-morning. My five year old was too distracted by the outdoors to make it onto the potty in time, resulted in soggy pants and generously sprayed bathroom. My three year old's poopy diaper messed up her bloomers. The baby capped off the day by his poopsplosion at supper time just when I could've been sitting down to the fresh, hot burger my hubby grilled. Don't you love recurring theme days? I felt like all I did was take care of excrement. If I look at the truth of the day though, I was able to spend an hour playing "Shoots and Ladders", vacuum the whole house, finally make resurrection cookies, and facilitate a sleepover. Not bad, huh?
        I want to challenge you to not look at your day as the worst ever, and look at what has been a blessing to you that day. Dwell on that. Ponder that. (I'm totally stealing this idea from Phil. 4:8.) I think it'll make your case of the Mondays go away...it might even change the rest of your days too.

Buried Alive

      The house has been messy a lot lately. Part of that is because we have a new baby, and cleaning up toys is to not a priority over cooking, laundry or cleaning...or keeping my little man's diapers dry (which has been a real challenge in light of his digestive response to the antibiotics he has gotten via milk).  It feels like we've really only had a couple days off from illness for almost a month. My thirdborn got a non-strep sore throat this past week that has kept us away from others for three days (and impetigo, which did mean another trip to Walgreens). I just don't want to work non-stop orchestrating what needs to be done after I'm done with my chores, which these days don't always get done. I want to sit down and stop wondering if the pile of clean laundry will ever fold itself. I know some people dream about zombies attacking them; I, on the other hand, dream about my laundry revolting and burying me alive, smothering me in Downey freshness.
           The other part of the messiness has been that two girls have had a birthday party which means a lot of extra presents to find a new home for. These days it is difficult to find to a clean spot to sit let alone not trip over toys on the journey to the couch.  My youngest girls make 90% of the mess around the house, but get easily overwhelmed when assigned the task by themselves. They need a lot of direction. I don't think the little ones would be so overwhelmed if there wasn't so much stuff in the first place, which brings me to yet another chore that begs to be done...finding toys they don't really want anymore and donating them. I know that some parents do the dirty work at night or when their kids are gone, but I committed a long time ago to not throwing away things without their knowledge. I still remember my panic and horror at finding my Uncle Rax paper spectacles from my kid's meal being mysteriously gone one day. I asked my mom if she had gone through "my" drawer. She usually limited her "straightening up" (that was her word for it...I would've called it "throwing away my treasures") to anywhere, BUT my drawer. Apparently, she wasn't pleased with being unable to pull "my" drawer in the kitchen open without mess flying everywhere because of all the "treasures" I had jammed in there (which included my ubercool paper glasses that made me look like an alligator). I was crushed to find out she'd thrown them away. I knew all about the Bible and forgiveness since my dad was a Pastor, but I had a real hard time forgiving that. God has now blessed me with a daughter who has a similar sentimentality (and most people agree that she looks just like me)...so I've experienced first hand how difficult I was (and have repented of this to my mother). Anyhow, I have since committed to only throwing out things in their presence.
         I have personally come to the realization that it is not worth it to keep something unless you actually have room to enjoy it. This has been a tough concept to teach, and I can't claim to be entirely successful yet with my kids. The only thing that really lasts and leaves it's impact here on earth are the relationships we make with other people. The "stuff" we value all becomes trash at some point. I am reminded of Matthew 6:20 which says, "But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven,where moths and vermin do not destroy,and where thieves do not break in and steal." I am dedicated to taking along as many people as I know with me, instead of storing up stuff.
     It's time to help my children let go of the clutter to prevent us from being buried alive in a pile of mess...even if it means throwing away some paper spectacles from a kid's meal.

"The Tent of Meeting"

         As I sit and rock our son back to sleep, I think about all the other babies that have been rocked in this chair. I've rocked all five of our children in this chair. It's been more than a decade of my life that I have spent time rocking and consoling my little ones. This is also where I do 90% of my blogging since our newest addition two months ago. The other 10% is done while pacing the floors.
          This rocker has not only been a place for me to console, but where I have been consoled as well.  I was also nursed and  rocked here. My mom spent just as many hours as I do holding and helping me fall asleep.  Truth be told, I haven't just been consoled here as an infant though. This is the chair that I have poured my heart out to God. I have told Him my fears and worries over issues ranging from where we would live to when our child would ever go back to sleep. I have cried out in anger, hurt, pain and joy. This has been my "tent of meeting". In the Old Testament, it was where the priests and Moses could meet God. (see Exodus 27:21) It is amazing what a blessing a little quiet time in the middle of the night can be for really praying things through.  I have told you all recently that my rocker has become the chair that I sit to read my Bible in the middle of the night as well (thanks to my lovely smart phone and the Logos app). As part of my church's challenge for "30 days in the word", I read James 1:26 which says,"If you claim to be religious but don’t control your tongue, you are fooling yourself, and your religion is worthless." Ouch! Given my temper issue, I often lack control of my tongue, but this verse hit me square between the eyes. I felt a bit overwhelmed and (honestly) ashamed. What do my outbursts say about me? That same night I was also reading in Psalm 141 which gave the perfect solution to the conundrum of wanting to control my tongue but feeling powerless to do it. Verse 3 says, "Take control of what I say, O Lord, and guard my lips."  That has been the prayer of my heart ever since. There is a caution to acting as if I'm the one with the power when I pray. Beth Moore says, "If we take credit when we receive what we ask, not only will we offend God and mislead people, but we will also place ourselves in the position to take credit when we don't get what we earnestly ask for." This verse in Psalms is the perfect example of this...instead of "trying" to control my tongue and taking credit for my effort, I can pray for God's help...leaving the end result up to Him. These verses and insight all came in the middle of the night in my "tent of meeting",  the rocking chair.
          I have a beautiful glider that my mom gave us as a present when we had our first child, but still my rocker of choice for the nursery has always been this one that is nearly forty years old. It is the place I not only nurture our children but feel the presence of the Lord every night.

The Great Wide Open

        Yesterday was a really wonderful day outdoors. Everyone was outside. The TV sat idle...no one even thought of turning it on with all the adventure that lay waiting outside.
        My oldest two girls found two geese eggs by the pond, while the younger two discovered a "wooly worm" (that's what we always call the furry caterpillars that turn into Isabella moths).  My hubby tilled up the ground for our garden, and we enjoyed planting lettuce, spinach, and snow peas. I showed them how to lay the earth back in the garden, and push the snow pea seeds a little deeper in the earth. We talked about roots and soil depth. I loved watching the girls wiggle their toes through the freshly tilled soil. That was always one of my favorite parts of gardening as a child. My five year old dug a huge hole in the middle of the garden, all the while scooting around in the earth. At one point, she stood up and realized that lots of dirt had gone down her pants and was only slightly put off by it. By the end of the day, their toenails were dark brown and gritty; and there were enormous grins on their faces.
         I watched the two little ones fish with their daddy in the pond, while my second oldest caught three huge bullfrogs, at least two turtles, and one snake. Later when I saw her with her net from catching frogs completely covering her face and head, I admit that I gagged a little.
         Puddles and Paddles (our two mallard ducks) had a fun romp in the yard while their "mama" ducks (my two oldest) quacked and flapped their arms getting them to waddle along behind them. At the beginning of the weekend they had them on leashes, but discovered they wouldn't wander too far and would still follow them when they quacked for the ducks.
       I showed our three year old how to pump on the swing, and I cracked up watching her close her eyes and toss her head back while trying to pump. My hubby grilled burgers while watching some of our revelry. He said that he loved seeing all of us playing around...even me. We ended the night with s'mores made around a campfire. My hubby then showed the older girls how to hunt for nightcrawlers when the sun went down.
         As much as we enjoyed our day and spending time in God's nature, I wondered if God equally enjoyed watching us (just like my hubby had). I kind of think He was smiling down on us from heaven, as if to say, "I'm glad you like it. I made it just for you."

"You've Made Your Bed, Now..."

         "... lie in it." Were you able to finish this line? I can't remember exactly when this was taught to me, but I'm pretty sure it was at a rather young age.  Sometimes, allowing our children to feel the consequences of their actions is a great form of discipline. If they neglect to put clothes in the laundry, they will run out of clean clothes. In the same way, I as an adult suffer consequences. If I leave fruit out too long, I will draw fruit flies. If I speed, I will get a ticket (eventually). Obviously, there is a certain level of maturity required for one to learn something from this form of discipline.
        This past week, I was challenged to consider that God will still help us even when we have made decisions without His "blessing". He doesn't say, "Well, you've made your bed..." God never leaves us. I'm in a Bible study called "Believing God" by Beth Moore. In the study we watch a video at the end of our time, and it was in the video this past week that Beth challenged this notion.
         She used a story from Joshua 9 and 10 to illustrate the point that in order to have victory God sometimes requires us to give our all. In this story, the Israelites have a miraculous victory over five kings that join together to try to defeat the Gibeonites whom Israel made a pact with in Joshua 9. Israel is not even fending off an attack specifically on them but on an ally they had made. They had a fierce battle. During their pursuit of the armies, God hurls hailstones from the sky "and more of them die from the hail than were killed by the swords of the Israelites." (Joshua 10:11) Beth points out that God could have clearly wiped out all of these enemies with hailstones in the beginning. Why did Israel even have to fight? God was more than able. She believes that God wanted Israel to do their part, not just believe God to fight for them. Israel had to give their all. They began with an all night march, fought while hotly pursuing their enemy, and even cried out for God to make the sun stand still. Verse 14 says ,"There has never been a day like it before or since, a day when the LORD listened to a human being. Surely the LORD was fighting for Israel!"
         This is a great inspirational story, right? It is, but that's not what got me all choked up...it's the context in which He gives Israel the victory. If you read the story in Joshua 9, you'll read the story of how the Gibeonites, who were afraid of what the Israelites would do to their city, pulled out old garments and moldy bread to fool the leaders of Israel into thinking that they had come from a long, long distance. Israel had been forbidden by God to make alliances with the people living in their "Promised Land". God warned that if they did they would eventually adopt their customs that caused God to drive them out in the first place. Israel would commit just as horrible atrocities like sacrificing their children. Well, the leaders of Israel were completely fooled by the their ragged appearance, moldy bread, and cracked wineskins. They forgot to "consult" God. Big mistake! He'd have told them that the wool was being pulled over their eyes.  Mrs. Moore pointed out that they could've wondered on that long march about who's fault it was that they were even in this battle...perhaps they were even slapping their forehead thinking "how stupid" they were...maybe, just maybe they were even feeling that since they had gotten themselves into this mess, they'd have to get themselves out. Beth points out though that God is not human. He never leaves us. He is full of grace; and when you cry out to Him, He is sure to hear you.
        This is what made my eyes start to water. This what filled my heart with hope. There are many times that I am reluctant to cry out to God for deliverance because I've bought into the lie that because I didn't listen to God or stop to ask His opinion that He no longer cares about me...that He will not help me. God loves us. All of us. It is much easier for me to extend grace than to accept it. Just as I would always help my child if they were in trouble regardless of whether or not they took my advice, God is just waiting for us to cry out to Him.    
        This past week my stupidity has cost my family several trips to the doctor's office/Walgreens for treatment for strep throat. I realized one of my daughters was suffering with a sore throat after drinking from her water bottle. I asked her why she didn't tell me her throat hurt to which she replied,"I did...you didn't listen to me." Ouch! Given my history of sometimes shushing my children, I know she's likely right. Slap my head and call me "stupid". Cleaning for strep throat is only effective if everyone is symptom free. Mama has fallen out of the saddle of her high horse. There are other things at play in our house this week too...big decisions affecting our family's future...some of it clearly beyond our control.
         So today, I'm believing God to be huge compared to our problems, ready to hurl hailstones at my enemies, more than capable to make the sun stand still. I'm crying out, “Ah, Sovereign LORD, you have made the heavens and the earth by your great power and outstretched arm. Nothing is too hard for you." (Jer. 32:17)

     

Pain In The Boot

        Many of you know that I recently purchased a amazing set of cowgirl boots, but what you don't know is that I'm on my second pair. The first set continued to make my toes tingle on one foot after wearing them for about an hour. (I'm pretty sure that is not normal!) After three days of trying to break them in, my foot began to feel sore instead of my boot feeling better. Why in the world was I fighting it? They were clearly too small. Well, I didn't want the hassle of returning them. However, Amazon is really amazing with returns...so with my hubby's help, we exchanged for a half size up. The new pair are wonderful, except for one thing: they still cut into my ankle when I walk in them. The only way to avoid this is to walk very stiffly and take large steps; and even then, it still hurts. I had the benefit of feeling the others stop hurting around my ankles (despite the tingling) after three days of "breaking them in". I knew it was just a matter of time. I'm sure a few people were giggling at my strange gait while I sauntered up and down the aisles at Wal-mart during grocery shopping. There was even a slight fear in the back of my mind that this pair might somehow never stop hurting. Today, I am happy to announce, is the first day that I was able to walk normally.
        Sometimes in life we have to keep on walking despite the pain, knowing that the pay-off will be worth it. Homeschooling our girls has been one of those things. I love it, but there have been some slightly painful things to go along with it. I've been working on getting the girls to write more over the past few months, but there have been a few bumps along the way...mainly, I've had to change my approach. While it seemed simple enough to have the girls start researching a topic they were interested in for writing a paper, it became apparent (especially with my 2nd grader) that this wasn't the best approach to getting them to write more. There was little progress...along with lots of frustration.  I had begun having them read from our history book independently and write a few sentences describing a section of the chapter (we use "Story of the World" which is written out like a story instead of a typical textbook). This caused almost daily tears for my 2nd grader. I couldn't understand the problem. My daughter won the young authors contest for our district when she just a Kindergartener. I knew she was a great writer. When I would ask her about what she read, she could easily tell me what happened...demonstrating comprehension. The snag was when she was writing it down. A friend of mine came over who recently stopped teaching at a private school to stay at home with her kids and begin homeschooling.
I asked her if she had any experience with what my second grader was going through. Thankfully,  she had some really great advice.  She introduced me to "Writing With Ease", and even loaned me her copy so I'd be able to try it out without investing in the books. The author contends that writing is a two step process that involves not only formulating your ideas in your mind, but also remembering it well and long enough to put it on paper. It made some sense given what I was experiencing; but when I tested my 2nd grader, I realized that this was  EXACTLY her problem. She is wonderfully bright, and completely capable of telling me her thoughts which I can easily write down. She was having a hard time writing down her thoughts at the same pace she was thinking them. This was a total light bulb moment and a huge relief to me! We started on the coursework at the level designed to help teach them how to do this (which happens to be the 2nd level), and I have seen just how bright and wonderful my daughter is. My fourth grader has continued on with her summaries for history, but for now my 2nd grader only reads them. Then, she verbally tells me what happened with great ease and zero tears. As we have gone along this new adventure, I have often learned that I have to change my technique. Copywork alone was not improving handwriting, so we introduced handwriting curriculum. There is nothing wrong with that.  Admitting to my 2nd grader that I shouldn't have been assigning what I was brought us both relief. It's ok to be wrong. This is part of the process for me to learn what parts of homeschooling are "chapping our hide", address them, and continue on. In the end, I'm grateful to know my child better and help her succeed.
        It feels just as good as my leather boots that are broken in...maybe even better.
       What have you been "breaking" in lately? I love hearing your comments!

A Time To Be

        I love to talk. It is extremely hard for me to be quiet.  It is painful for me to just "be", but unmeasurable good can come from this. I'm reading through Ecclesiastes, and last night I read through chapter 3 that talks about how "to everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven". I've recently had experience with a time for birth ,and today happens to be the 23rd anniversary of my father's death. I've also had a good amount of experience recently with a time to be sick, both personally and with caring for my family. My most recent sickness left me without a voice for a couple of days. That was horrible for me. When I attempted to speak loudly to reprimand my girls, my voice crackled and squeaked like a pubescent boy...prompting stifled laughter, not action. It's not easy for me to shut-up, but ultimately that's what I had to do in order to let my voice heal from the stress of my head cold. I had to be more careful with what really needed to be said vs. what I wanted to say.
        We know it is important for our kids to have quiet time. Most of us have to force our children into this. I have to give my children this gift, so that I too can experience some down time. I have told my children that it had better be an emergency if they are going to be waking me up during a nap at quiet time. My youngest ones often lack discretion in this area, interpreting their lost purple marker as an emergency. When my girls come in, I usually blurt out, "Is anyone cut or dying?" (just to remind them of examples of true emergencies)  Nine times out of ten, they go away without speaking. A few weeks ago, I was very thankful when my oldest timidly came in to ask if a toilet overflowing was an emergency.  Yes, I enthusiastically congratulated her, that is one emergency I want to be woken up for. I can't remember the last time I jumped out of bed so quickly, and sprinted downstairs with towels and plunger in hand. All that running came in handy.
        I think many people truly want to hear from God. They have specific questions they want answers to. I think this is why psychics are so popular...people want an answer now and are willing to pay for it. Within the Christian realm, people gifted with prophecy are equally desired in order to hear from God what He would say to you. I have nothing against the latter, but I would challenge you to be quiet before God to hear for yourself what He has to say to you. I believe He will speak to us if we take the time to be still.
        Five and a half years ago, I went through an event called the "Great Banquet", and one of the most powerful things about the three days was being still. (To read more about my experience, click here.) As a mom, the middle of the night is really the only true "still" time I have, but my recent laryngitis forced me to be quiet during the daytime as well. It is amazing what you will hear when you are quiet. I heard more of my girls' heart in that week than I had in probably the previous six months. The Great Banquet was the first time in a long time that I knew God was talking to me. I heard from His heart. I think it's because the noise of family, cell phones, TV, and even the internet was silenced for three whole days. It was powerful. I was moved to confess a lie to my husband after attending, which began a whole series of confessions over the next year (since I'd been trying to hide who I was...here's that story).
        What does God have to say to you? It could forever change the course of your life the way He did mine. The Great Banquet begins in our area in just a few weeks. Are you curious to hear what He would say to you? If you tell me that you are interested, I will do everything I can to help you get there for three days of peace and quiet. What do you have to lose but a lot of noise?