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.