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.

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.

"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.

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?

The Friend In The Night

        Most of my life with my dad, I remember him working at a radio station. He pastored a small church on Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights, but the rest of his job consisted of a show he did for our local AM radio station from Midnight to 6 am.
         His show was called "The Friend In The Night". He played Southern Gospel music, held Bible quizzes, and talked his heart out. He was a perfect fit for this job because it combined two of his greatest loves...listening to Southern Gospel music (he was in a band as a teenager called the "Country Cut-up's, and they were good enough to play at the Grand Ole Opry and were on the same night as Loretta Lynn) and talking to people about God. I was 13 and 1/2 when he died and he hosted this show for about ten years. Some of my fondest childhood memories were of going to bed early on school holidays and tagging along to the radio station with my dad. I loved picking out records, grabbing cup after pointy, cone cup of filtered water, talking about my cats, but, most of all, watching him work. He loved his job. Of course, having no supervision while he was on air did get me into trouble a few times. One night my older brother came with me and we went through every last pointy water filter cup within a few hours. We got yelled at for that one. I also remember there was a statue of a dalmatian that stood between the break room and the studio, and I was terrified it would come to life and bite me (I'm pretty sure my brother planted that idea in my head).  My dad was rather concerned one time when he realized I had been absent for more than an hour. I was paralyzed with fear staring at the statue.
         My dad was much more gifted with gab than I am, and I remember him coaching me not to talk so much about my cats dying and more about fun things I did with them. It was true they died, but that's not what listeners in the middle of the night really wanted to hear about. I admit that I'm a bit of a melancholy.
         My favorite memory though is going to be the local bakery afterwards for a creme-filled long John. We hardly ever ate out or had sugary things at home because it made my mom sick, so it was a real treat.
        My mom thought he'd made a mistake when the Mennonite church he'd been pastoring made him choose between being their pastor and working at the radio station because he chose the radio station. She now acknowledges that this was truly a God-ordained appointment (given the popularity of the show and the ministry he had as a result). This was his calling. I try to keep this in the back of my head every time my hubby looks into a new job.  This could be his "radio station". His theme song for the show was "Give Me A Song To Sing At Midnight" by the Kingsmen (I tried to find a sound clip to link to, but the closest I could find was this cover that the Dunneman's did).
        This past weekend our church launched a new series called "30 Days in the Word". I immediately began an internal dialogue with God about how I had no time to add this to the Bible study I already spend 30 minutes a day on plus the 15 minutes per school day that I spend reading to the girls from the Bible. Our pastor had the chair where he does his Bible reading from on stage to show us his place for communing with God. During the sermon, our pastor repeatedly asked "Where's your chair?". I replied in my head about the couch I typically use, but I began thinking about my rocking chair I nurse our baby in. The Holy Spirit reminded me that just that morning I had been wondering if there was something better to that I could do while nursing, burping, and keeping him upright for 15 minutes after each feeding (which helps dramatically with his spitting up and his reawakening when I lay him down). I had been spending a good deal of time on Facebook and Amazon to distract me from how tired I was while I was waiting to go back to sleep. Both tend to stir me up though and make it harder to go back to sleep. Then, I told God my last excuse, "How can I read my Bible in the dark?" and He reminded me of the free Logos app I had on my phone.
         This week, my rocking chair has been my new chair...and I've had no problem adding the recommended reading into my schedule. If you'd like to join me, check out this link for the reading plan.

      It has given me a new Friend in the night. So where's your chair?
      

Basking In The Sunny Spot

     Have you ever noticed how animals love to find a spot where the sun is shining and lay down in it?  Our dog does this all the time, but I've also caught our cats basking outdoors as well.  One of the rooms in our new home has tons of windows; and over the past holiday weekend, I've taken advantage of laying on the couch when the sun is shining on it to take a little nap.  It's warm and cozy, and I usually wake up once the sun moves off of my face. 
     Since this is the beginning of a new year, I've been thinking a lot today about all the really great things that have happened this year.  I would've never guessed a year ago that we would be living on the road I'd been praying to live on for the past 3 years, or that we'd be in a larger more comfortable home than before with lots of outdoor space and several homeschooling neighbors.  I would have never guessed that I would be expecting a baby...and of all things (after having four girls), a baby boy.  I would have never guessed at the beginning of last year that I would be writing about our journey, and people would actually enjoy reading about it.  When my hubby encouraged me to take up Jill Savage's Facebook invitation to her 4,000+ friends to come to her home this summer celebrating the completion of her new book (that I've now gotten to preview), I had no idea how fun it would be.  She also had tiny kittens at her house when I visited, and said she was looking for a home for them.  Several weeks later when we moved into our new home, she gave us three kittens; it was my girl's birthday wish come true.  When I began to hear all the stories of outdoor cats not doing so well in our area from our neighbors, I would've never guessed that our cats would not only do well but thrive on our property.  They are seriously the friendliest outdoor cats I've ever been around. Our dog has made peace with the fact that he is not our only pet (though occasionally I think I see him sneering at the cats that he gets to live indoors and they have to stay outside). When the cats are parading around with a fresh mouse in their mouth, I think that are laughing back at him.  The cats and the dog occasionally charge at each other in a friendly way; but I'm no longer paranoid that Harley, the dog, will attack the cats.  I feel so thankful for the new friends that I've made in 2012, some of them truly kindred spirits...you know who you are!  I also feel thankful for the wonderful friends that I've reconnected with that were so important in my life during the time I grew up.  I'm also super excited to say that I'm typing this from a computer...this is my second post (since July) that I've written using a keyboard instead of my thumbs.  Thanks, honey! Today, we ate a cherry cheesecake that was the same recipe I made for my husband before he was even my boyfriend...it was the beginning of our whole romance 19 years ago (he is the reason I learned to cook, much to my mother's delight who was convinced I would never want to learn). It was another reminder of to me of the good things that God has brought into my life.  You are a great gift to me, sweet Hubby!
     We've had our challenges this year...remember not knowing where we would live for so long despite having signed paperwork for selling our old house, or the bout with ticks and fleas; and of course, I can't forget the loss of my sweet Giselle.
     For right now though, I just want to bask in the sunny spot.