At the End of the Rainbow (Does God Have a "Like" Button? )

           I love the "like" button, but perhaps I overuse it a little. When something on Facebook makes me smile or even just know someone a little better than before, I'll "like" it. Do you ever wonder what God would do on Facebook?  Do you ever think, "If God saw me would He groan over how needy (or whiny) I am? Would He "like" me? Would He leave a comment? Would I be on His friend list? Most of my posts on Facebook revolve around an interesting photo or a link to my blog. Sharing my blog can be feel futile and a bit frustrating.The way they choose to show your feed to certain people is confusing; and often times, I debate whether or not to actually post a link at all. If people really want to know what's going on, it's easy to subscribe. Sometimes,  I want to give up Facebook completely because it makes me think more about other people's approval than I'd like to admit. I didn't start blogging because I want a million likes (although it feels gratifying to get a few).  I did it because God does amazing things all around me, and I want to share it. I want our children to look back and know where they came from. I want them to know that God had a hand in their lives from the very beginning. I want them to know me and my thoughts because there aren't enough moments in the day to express them.  I also want other friends to know that they are not alone in their hard days, and that God is real. Most of all, I want to make God smile.
           In my last post, I showed you my kooky smiley face. I was also in the middle of painting some serious yellow on my walls. My hubby rolled out the Aquatic Green on our hallway and a few comments about their union. I love those two colors; and although the 2 x 5 strip of them together looked great, on the walls they looked awful. In our last town, there was a house on campus with this crazy rainbow assortment of colors. My girls would always say they wanted to live in that house. However, my six-year-old child quipped that our colored walls were "too crazy" for even her. Half-pint said it reminded her of a bathroom. Today when I picked up our copy of Usborne books "Find the Duck", I discovered my subliminal inspiration. When I looked at those two bold colors competing for my attention, I felt like a miserable decorating flunkee.
          It lasted on the walls just overnight before I grabbed the primer and went to work. We had hastily cleaned up and stored our painting paraphernalia in the garage before friends came over to witness the "tropical" look on walls ("tropical" was their word,  not mine). It was 6am when I dragged the supplies out and noticed a few sprinkles coming down on our van. The sun was shining brightly. I began to get very excited.  This could mean only one thing: A RAINBOW!  I started searching and saw the tip of a gorgeous double rainbow.  I dashed into the house to grab my phone because I knew it wouldn't last long. After snapping a couple shots of the northern end, I slowly scanned south to see where it landed. Our house was at the end of the rainbow.  I took a video clip and tried a panoramic shot, but it started fading and the rain stopped.
           I'm convinced it was a small display of beauty just for me. Was it God saying, "Now this is how to do color!"? Was He trying to show me that he didn't put blue next to yellow in the rainbow,  so I shouldn't either? Perhaps. When I close my eyes and really listen, I think He was saying something like this: "The reason you like color is because I like it too. You were made in my image. I like what your trying. Don't give up. You are special...that's why I made the rainbow end on your house. I made this rainbow just for you...because I love you!" When I shared the pictures of the rainbow with Charles, he said that it "must be the gold walls" we just painted. Whatever the reason, the timing and location of that rainbow made me smile and feel special. Rainbows became significant for me after going through the "The Great Banquet". There is a song that we sang repeatedly that talks about the colors of the rainbow being like the many facets of God's love. God may not be on Facebook, but He does control creation. Seeing that rainbow perched above our home felt like He had left an enormous comment on the sky for me instead of my computer screen that read, "I LOVE YOU in so many ways! <3" He loves us all, so what has He done lately for you that felt like a comment? If you can't think of anything,  I dare you to be bold and ask for a comment. Then, keep your eyes wide open and share it.

The Post Baby Bump

         Hi! It's the third Thursday blog hop for Hearts at Home. Welcome to my blog! Today's topic is "No More Perfect Bodies". I wrote all about my insecurities about my body during pregnancy in a post a couple months back called "Your So Vein". I'm now 7 weeks out from having a new baby. I loved reading Jill Savage's take on "No More Perfect Bodies". She talks about how society embraces the pregnancy bump, but they also need to embrace the post-pregnancy bump. I've watched my body slowly go back to more of it's former self over the past few weeks; but honestly, I never am quite satisfied.  I asked my hubby when trying on clothes this past Friday if a top made me look "fat". He assured me that it looked great (and thankfully, he always tells the truth in that area...sometimes it even stings a bit). Still, it's been almost a week, and although I've enjoyed wearing the other clothes I bought that evening, I'm still yet to pull it out for fear that maybe he was wrong, or maybe I've had one too many cookies this past week and my "bump" is past what that shirt can handle. I'm always conscious of myself. I've always been that way. I even find myself  wondering what my midsection looks like when I'm sitting down in a group or at the swimming pool. I find myself putting my arms around my waist to disguise what people see. When people comment how great I look post-baby, I feel pressure to maintain that. If they don't comment, I think maybe I don't look good anymore. It like I can't win. I don't think I obsess over this, but I honestly am tempted every day with thoughts to loathe what God has so graciously given me.
        My mom didn't allow me to play with Barbies growing up because she thought they would give me a distorted self image. Well, that didn't work because I rarely remember enjoying how I looked. I've always loathed my legs (my brother used to call me "thunder thighs"), and that is the primary reason that I started running faithfully...I liked the way my legs looked for once. (I've now found what a difference it makes in my attitide and fatigue level, and now I'm hooked for other than liking my legs) I look back now at pictures of me in high school and think how perfect I looked. Someday, I'll probably look back at me in my 30's and think the same thing. There is such a temptations to want more and to never be content.  The women that are older than me that I truly admire for their beauty are not perfect,  but exude a confidence despite their imperfections. So what if they have crows feet? Their smiles light up their eyes. So what if I have age spots? I'm probably more aware of them then anyone else is (except maybe my two year old who daily scrutinizes my face and points to my spots asking me, "What's that? Is it an owie?").
       The fact is that God created me in my mother's womb and saw that "it was good". To despise what He has made me to be is like telling the Master of the universe that He messed up in His creation...that He is somehow wrong. God is perfect. I am not. The sooner that I can appreciate this fact the sooner that I can accept my imperfections and move on to what God has really called me to do...to love others and be His hands and feet. He thinks I'm beautiful post-baby bump and all.

What do you struggle with? I'd love to hear. Please share it below.

Click here to read more blogs in the blog hop.

Cleaning + Unsupervised Two Year Old = Disaster

         I'm challenged daily to let go of my notions of who my kids are and watch who they are developing into. I've had lots of practice relaxing about how my kids dress or comb their hair; although honestly, there are days that I long to stick a bow or braid into my current two year old's hair (her natural curls minus hair accessories cause her to resemble Kramer from Seinfeld more than Shirley Temple). Our children fill my heart with joy at their creativity, but sometimes their ideas can get them into trouble. Our third oldest seems to have an affinity for trouble. If you went to "Girls Night Out" last year for the Hearts at Home National Conference, you may remember a cut up pack 'n play used for the survivor skit...that was our pack 'n play.
        Tomorrow our daughter turns five; and in honor of that, I'd like to share about the incident that will forever live on in our memories as "the day she almost didn't live to see three". My hubby had purchased a lovely large LCD TV during an "after New Year's blowout" sale. I was really tired that day; so when our baby laid down for a nap, I put on a movie for our two year old to watch. When I came downstairs, my heart sank as I saw water on the TV and half of the screen no longer showed a picture, just rainbow colored lines. I asked my two year old why there was water on the TV, and she happily replied that she had lined up her "Lightning McQueen", "Sally", and "Mater" cars to clean them. They were sitting on the entertainment center directly in front of our new TV when she had sprayed them off. I was puzzled why she had "her" cleaning bottle out in the first place, but it quickly made sense when my sock got soaked from an "accident" on the carpet. She knew I was sleeping and wanted to clean up the potty on the carpet. However, I had made it very clear before this that she wasn't allowed to use the spray bottle without me. Apparently, she'd forgotten this or thought that this situation didn't apply. She had no idea that her cleaning project had just cost us well over a thousand dollars. This all happened just a few weeks before my hubby left his good paying (but very unfulfilling) job for a job with a start up company that had great potential but cut his salary nearly in half. I knew a replacement was out of the question.
        I felt sick as I rushed to dry off the TV. I tried turning it off and letting it set; but after picking up our older two from school, it was still the same. I had no idea how my hubby would take the news; and understandably, he was very upset when he came home and heard the news. Our two year old was napping at the time, so he had about thirty minutes to decide how to handle it. He handled it wonderfully and decided that since the destruction was unintentional the only thing she was really in trouble for was using a spray bottle without me. When she came down later, she was given a consequence if she ever broke that rule again. She was pretty upset when she realized she'd broken our new TV. My hubby asked us all take turns talking about mistakes we'd made before, so she'd know she wasn't the only one.
        Clearly, she lived past that day. She never got that spray bottle out again without me, and we have since then replaced the TV. A TV is replaceable, but a child's delicate heart is not. Looking at I Cor. 13 can give us an accurate picture of what our love as Christians is supposed to look like. "Love is patient. Love is kind...Love is not easily angered." May I add to that "even when a brand new TV is ruined".

Have your kids "cleaned" anything and ruined it? I'd love to hear your story below.

Up In Smoke

         If you'd like to read about a really bad day that I handled well, click here to read "Harley and the Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day". Today though, I'd like to be honest with you about how many of my days have gone "up in smoke". It feels good to only write about my successes, but it hardly feels real. Real life consists of the good, bad, and the ugly. Lately, there has been a lot of ugly in mine.
        I've been averaging 5-6 hours of sleep a night (on a good night I get 7, but even then I get woken up an average of three times...and try to keep "the spit-up king" upright for at least 15 minutes after nursing and changing diapers...which is tough). Each "wake-up" usually takes about an hour of my time. I know it could be so much worse, so it seems silly to complain. The poor baby is just 7 weeks old and will do a five hour stretch but sometimes I only catch 2 or 3 hours of it because I'm putting the other four to bed or completing some essential thing that I couldn't do with him in my arms (last night, I stayed up to finally make the birthday cake that I'd been trying to make all day). I know this level of sleep deprivation is temporary and that has been my consolation for the past couple of weeks.
          This is the list of my imperfections and low-points from just this past week: 1) I've yelled at almost everyone daily, including the dog. 2) I can't remember how many times I've been asked why I'm crying. 3) You would probably laugh at all the medical issues I've googled in the past week, assuming that I've maimed my children or we will need surgery to fix my mistakes/worn out body.  I believe in God's power, yet I'm having hard time resting in trust. 4) I'm participating in a study called "Believing God", and as part of the study we divide our lives into fifths to chart the notable events in our lives. Do you know that I have had someone very close to me die in each section (we're talking immediate family or best friend)...and I'm beginning a new fifth. This leaves me wondering "Who'll die next ?"
         I'd also be seriously exaggerating to say that I've been like this all week. Sometimes, I am so weak, but not always. Last Sunday night, I successfully navigated waiting for an extra half hour for pizza (without losing my cool) with a six week old, two year old,  and four year old. I had to wait because I had called the pizza into the wrong location. My infant overflowed his diaper, so I changed, nursed, and  burped him while entertaining two hungry kiddos smelling pizza they couldn't eat. There was no yelling either. This past week, I have kept up with laundry, schoolwork, and bills (though I'm yet to do this month's budget). I've hosted seven family members for an overnighter (although in truth, they handled two of the four meals,, and took care of all the dishes for me). I've sucessfully fed our baby (and kept him clean...which is time-consuming considering all the spit-up), all despite going through two illnesses. I've hugged and kissed my kids and spouse...and apologized to them when I've messed up.
        What is the key in all this mess of sorting through my past week?  I know that I have value, not because of what I've done, but because God says I matter to Him. He takes delight in me and sings over me each night at bedtime. (Zeph. 3:17) He loves me without conditions and despite how much I mess up. (Jer. 31:3 ) What I think about is powerful, and I need to be careful what I choose to dwell on. I've come accross this same scripture three times this week, which is my cue to pay attention and apply it. Philippians 4:18 gives us the perfect filter to pass my blunders all through. It says, " Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true,  whatever is noble, whatever is right,  whatever is pure, whatever is lovely,  whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." When I choose to only dwell on what is not only true, but noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy, I can no longer beat myself up on all the things I've done wrong. I have to learn from my mistakes and move on. Proverbs 15:15 says, "For the despondent, every day brings trouble; for the happy heart, life is a continual feast." (taken from NLT) Is your life a continual feast? Check the reality of His love for you and what you're thinking about, and I promise your day will go better...hopefully, you can put out the fire before your day goes up in smoke.

What are you struggling with? Feel free to leave it in the comments below, and I will happily pray with you about it.

How Do You Know He Loves You?

        One of my favorite kid's movies is "Enchanted".  I love the character Amy Smart plays as "Giselle" and how she is so naive and prone to break out in song (maybe this is because I was told growing up that I was a bit naive, and as my girls will attest, I often break out in song...although my voice is nowhere near as lovely as Giselle's). One of my favorite montages of the movie is the song "How Do You Know?"  It's a lovely little ditty about showing the love of your life that you care.
        I was recently reminded of the concept of showing your love for God from a dear friend. If we fall in love with anyone, we certainly will show this by the lives we lead. We start dressing differently to impress them. We become interested over night in whatever they really love to know them better. It is no different in our love for God. Jesus said, "If you love me, keep my commandments." ( John 14:15) Because we love Him, we will naturally want to please Him. There, however, is a world of difference between doing something out of love for God versus trying to do something to earn God's love.
         "There is nothing you can do to make God love you more, and there is nothing you can do to make God love you less." This is one of the most beautiful concepts taught at the event called the Great Banquet.  It is based on the concept of God loving us unconditionally...which is taught in I John 4:19 that talks about us loving Him because He first loved us and in Romans 5. Verse 8 in Romans talks about God showing His love for us by Christ dying for us while we were still sinners. We didn't have to be "cleaned" up to be loved.
         My dad was a pastor and felt very strongly about his beliefs, as most pastors do. He took Deuteronomy 22:5 to mean that women should not wear pants, so I never owned a pair of pants till after he died, when I was a teenager.  My mom honored his conviction their entire marriage even though she didn't share it.  My mom and my dad were both raised Amish (although neither ever joined the Amish church), so they were used to being different from everyone else. They didn't live with electricity or automobiles ...it was kerosene lamps and buggies for them.
        I, on the otherhand, struggled with being different. All I ever wanted growing up was to fit in. I remember hating going to the mall and feeling that everyone was staring at me because I was wearing coolots instead of shorts like everyone else. (If you are unfamiliar with coolots, think seriously bell-bottomed shorts...they came into favor again about seven years ago, but I couldn't bring myself to purchase any). I'm sure some of this was imagined, but not all of it. I knew I was different, and I didn't feel like it was a positive thing back then. When my dad died, I was 13; and I grieved his death horribly. I adored my dad! I do remember feeling a little relieved though when after he died my mom said that she saw nothing wrong with wearing pants or jeans as long as it was feminine. The letter of that Old Testament law might have prohibited pants, but the spirit of the law was to only prohibit manly attire. I doubt my husband thinks I look manly in my jeans. Do you, honey?
       The problem I have with a literal adherance to every law in the Old Testament is the sheer volume of the laws. How do you decide which to keep? If you decide to keep one, doesn't that mean you should keep them all? Aren't they all equally important? Well then, we would need to sew blue tassels on the corner of our garments (Numbers 15:38) and not mix linen with wool (Duet 22:11). Who can actually remember all of them let alone keep them? There is also a tendency with rule keeping to feel that we are somehow earning our way into heaven (which was one of my mom's biggest beefs against the Amish church). Ephesians 2:8-9 clearly states that it is by grace that we are saved (which is God's gift), not through works, "lest any man should boast". We should follow rules out of love for God, not to score brownie points with God.
        How do I know God loves me?  Well as Roy Rogers and Dale Evans sing, "The Bible Tells Me So" (which was one of my favorite songs from my childhood). Don't take my word for it. Read it and you'll know too.

Extra-Sharp White Cheddar Woes

        I really love Mac 'N Cheese. A few months ago, I read the ingredients in the Velveeta I had been using to make my "homemade" version and I was seriously grossed out by some of the ingredients (mmm...want some alginate in your cheese? Oh wait! Should I call it cheese? Cheese culture is the last ingredient!?) and also by the fact that it can safely sit at room temperature for months at a time.  I haven't wanted to buy the non-refrigerated Kraft Parmesan cheese for the same reason. Highly processed things just don't seem to be very healthy to consume on a weekly basis.
        I still love Mac 'N Cheese though, so I've been enjoying the occasional bowl from Panera. It tastes out of this world (and realistically may have other unhealthy items in it, but I'm hopeful that it's a step above Velveeta). Since I'm already up several times a night nursing a newborn, I entertained myself earlier this week by looking online for a recipe like Panera's. Despite boycotting Velveeta, I've still been trying desperately to find a tasty version that uses actual cheese. The only thing I've succeeded in is finding a bunch of recipes I don't like (and finally concluding that I don't like baked versions at all). I was thrilled this past Sunday when I found the recipe for Mac 'N Cheese on-line on Panera's own website. On Monday,  I went to Walmart to purchase what I'd need. They didn't have extra-sharp white cheddar cheese, but I thought I'd just substitute with the orange sharp cheddar cheese (the recipe also called for white american cheese, but I substituted the orange for that too). When I told my hubby about my supper plans, he warned that it wouldn't be the same without the white cheddar...but I assured him that other reviewers insisted that the orange worked just as well. I hate to admit it, but my hubby was right. Everyone ate it (with a good deal of ketchup), but it was a huge disappointment to me. I thought I was having all-you-can-eat "Ultimate Mac 'N Cheese".  Did Panera alter the recipe, so I'd be back for the real deal?
        That's the way it is in real life too. There is just no substitute for some things. We've all seen people with a pasted on smile just for show. This past Thursday I took our 3 week old son in for his newborn hearing screening at the local hospital (since he was born at home and hadn't had it tested yet). I was struck by the fake smiles pasted on the workers there. Most of them acted preoccupied and disinterested in really helping you, despite the grin they were sporting. In light if my most recent desire to really love my children despite their annoying whining or impatience, I was struck by John 15:11-12, which shows a connection between joy and love. We are commanded to love each other as Christ has loved us, and the result of following this command is "that our joy may be full". Loving those around me unconditionally will bring me joy. I'm choosing this day to love. I may need to quote this verse out loud a few times, but there'll be no substitution here...just the real deal.
So who out there knows where I can get some really great extra-sharp white cheddar cheese?

Most of All We Love

        Recently,  a dear friend of mine gave us a wall hanging that listed goals for our family. It talked about us "laughing" and "being patient...most of the time" and ended in "most of all, we love". It felt a bit ironic that just a few minutes before my friend arrived I had not shown much love to my two year old (who had chosen to come all the way into my bedroom to whine about how hungry she was). Our little boy was a little over a week old,  so my mom was at our house helping run our household.  My husband went back to work after playing Mr. Mom the first week, and I was so thankful to have my mom make the meals and keep up on the cleaning for an additional week. It makes me feel like I'm on vacation.  However, this particular morning did not feel like vacation but torture.  I hate being interrupted. My mom was watching "Little House on the Prairie" with all the girls,  and I was taking advantage of what I thought was a quiet moment before my friend arrived to watch the tutorial on the Storkenwege wrap I had been given. I was trying to learn how to tie a flat knot vs. a sliding knot when my two year old entered and rolled all over the floor hollering for something to eat.  Truthfully, at first she probably came into the room "talking" at a reasonable volume to me while I desperately tried to ignore her and watch the video (Was I supposed to lay the fabric to my right or the demonstrator's right?). I half-heartedly tried to convince her to talk to "Nana" about her food crisis while watching the video; and that's when she resorted to desperate measures of shrieking on the floor, completely overwhelming the quiet woman's voice teaching me all about knots. This is when I could ignore her no longer.
         I finally told her that she needed to wait for my help till after I watched the video clip since she was supposed to take up food requests with my mom. She was having none of this...which is when I snapped and told her that if she didn't leave the room, I'd be forced to help her. She chose to stay; so despite my lifting restrictions, I quickly hefted her out of the room and locked the door. This part of my room has glass-paned french doors, so I could see the hurt look on her face when she cried and hugged the baby peacefully sleeping on my bed in the other part of our room. At that moment, I wished I had stopped the tutorial and shown love by giving her my undivided attention for a few minutes.  A half an hour later, I felt more than a little guilty over my choice when I read the plaque about how "most of all, we love". It felt like no accident when earlier this week a friend blogged about focusing on love during this lent which just happened to start the day before Valentine's. I know God is trying to get a message through to me. My nerves have been a little raw this week as I have adjusted to lack of sleep and our new routine,  and I have snapped at our girls more than once.
         I'm reminded of 1 Corinthians 13. If I blog about things of importance but do not show love in my words to my girls, I am like a clanging cymbal. Even if I read my Bible every day and complete my forty minutes of Beth Moore Bible Study but don't share my time with the girls, I am nothing.   Even if I give my girl's conversation Jelly Belly's for Valentine's Day, but don't show love when they truly need a my help getting food...I gain nothing. Knowing how to tie knots will fade away. Getting enough sleep will eventually seem like less of a priority. Having my own space will gradually come again. What my family needs right now is my love, so I'm asking God to help me make it my top priority.

What are you struggling with right now?  I'd love to hear from you.