Am I A Legalist? (Part 1)

When I start writing on topics like this at first I am really excited. I have all of these words and thoughts and feelings tumbling around in my head that just can't wait to pour out on a fresh white screen.

I start typing and words start flowing. But before I realize what's happening, my thoughts have gone into 32 different directions. I get lost trying to follow each trail of thought. My eyes start hurting from squinting at the now cluttered screen, so I close them and close the computer, determined to try again tomorrow.

And I do. But now 50 some tomorrow's have come and gone and I'm still hopping from trail to trail like a little bunny rabbit. I want to get it right. No, perfect. And because that is an impossibility that will never happen, I never finish. My thoughts stay locked up in a muddled mess in a little folder on my computer.

Well, I've decided to do some spring cleaning (a couple months late).  I'm kinda tired of having little folders like that cluttering up things. So here we go. It may be a little unfiltered. You may have to step over some briars and thorns as you walk along my trail. But hopefully you will be able to see through to my heart and what I'm really trying to say. And maybe I'll figure it out too along the way.

This is a topic very close to my heart. It's personal. I've had experience where this is concerned. I've learned a lot of things along the way and am still walking this long road.

It's a hard topic to discuss. People get offended and get their feathers ruffled. There's a lot at stake here.

What if I am? What if you are?

No one wants to admit that they are legalistic. That's not really something nice to be identified with.

There is a lot of fear tied up with that word. Fear that we really might be. Fear that someone might think that about me. But mostly fear is what motivates our being legalistic. And how do you overcome that? 

I think it's important before we ever explore a topic like this, to first truly explore our own hearts. I don't want anyone to feel the heat of my pointed finger in their face. Because, believe me, the rest of the four are stabbing me hard in the chest.

Our hearts represent our true person and reveals so much about us. But to be honest, I’d rather not explore that dark cave. It’s too scary, sometimes dirty and going there can make me feel isolated, cold and alone. But I must. I must enter that dark heart-cave, I must explore the caverns and crevices. Otherwise, how will I know?  

Jeremiah 17:9 says, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?”

I’d rather not believe that. It doesn’t necessarily conjure up nice feelings to think about the fact that I’m beyond cure. I mean, where are we supposed to go from there? There is no recovering from that.

The next verse says, “I the Lord search the heart and examine the mind…”

I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.

 

Proverbs 4:23 tells us that the heart is the wellspring of life and that above all else, we must guard it.

 

One definition describes wellspring as, "A continuous, seemingly inexhaustible source or supply of something."

 

It's where it is, people. And I mean everything.

 

Glancing in my concordance at the back of my Bible I'm amazed at how many references to the 'heart' there is. It would be impossible to list each one. But here is a little recap of what God says about our hearts...

 

Our hearts can be::

 

hardened, prompted, opened, unified, cut, circumcised, uncircumcised, changed, made pure, examined, stirred, broken, contrite, undivided, divided, upright, joyful, thankful, bitter, jealous, wounded, steadfast, secure, set free, wise, sick, at peace, happy, good medicine, anxious, given, hasty, stolen, awakened, sealed, calloused, carried close, revived, washed, deceitful, a fire, luke warm, focused, confused, lost, new, glad, pure, impure, gentle, humble, laid bare, encouraged, sincere, enlightened, set, refreshed, senseless, faithless, faithful, willing, poured out, searched, far away from God, written on, known by God, troubled, ruled by peace, guarded, set on things above, grateful, sprinkled, cleansed of a guilty conscience...

 

They Can::

 

hate, murder, serve, love, observe, turn away, look for God, hold a grudge, obey, know with all of itself, be glad, meditate, receive, hold God's law, hold secrets, hold wisdom, cherish sin, fail, extol the Lord, deceive, seek, hide God's word, cry out, keep commands, ache even in laughter, guide the mouth, stay on the right path, love, pound, rejoice, know God, produce evil thoughts, forgive, doubt, waver, ponder, believe, anguish, grieve, make music, do the will of God, work at it, have thoughts and attitudes, yield, crush another heart, hold eternity in, burn, make room, condemn us...

Our hearts are powerful. And it is more than just an organ that pumps blood and gives life. It is the wellspring that all of our soul-being comes from. Our thoughts, feelings, motives, decisions and so much more that I will never understand.

That is the part that scares me. I will never truly comprehend even my own heart.

Psalm 139:23-24 says, "Search me O God and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting."

Knowing the true contents of our hearts is only a God-size job.

We may think we know something about it.  But we must be careful. Because we're probably fooling ourselves. We are never as good as we think.

Maybe you are like me. And right now I might be tempted to let my heart give up. I am so thankful for Scripture in moments like these. Especially this one.

1John 3:19-20
This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.

For all you Bible scholars out there, yes, this passage is definitely dealing with more than just feeling a bit sorry for ourselves. (Bless our hearts) But for all our hearts sake, no matter where we are in our walks with God, I think it's safe to say, that God is most definitely greater than our hearts... and what they are capable or incapable of.

That sure makes me feel better and is quite a good note to end on for today. I hope to come back to this topic soon. It appears life may be slowing down a little to make that possible with school and baseball ending. But I don't want to say that too loud!

When we do come back to it, I'd like to look at what legalism is and is not. And to see what it may look like in our personal lives (and by that I mean sharing what it looks like in my own). And I really hope not to get lost along the way of this tricky subject. The roads can twist and turn quite a bit and I wouldn't want to lose anyone (myself included) to motion sickness!

Come back if you so dare!



 

You Know You're a Momma When...

You pick up 100 Lego pieces in a day and instead of throwing them away, you put them back in the box because you know they will need them for their next building project.

You do 8 loads of laundry in a day.

You load and unload the dishwasher at least twice before dinner.

The only time the house stays clean is when your children are sick.

You reach in your purse to find your sunglasses and instead your hand comes out covered in goldfish crumbs.

You don't hear your name until the 11th time they've said it.

You feel guilty for no reason.

People stare at you in Wal-mart.

You ask your waitress to change the channel on the restaurant T.V. and ignore her belittling stare.

You opt for casual comfort rather than the latest fashions.

You wonder, just what do they do with all of that toilet paper?

You play peek-a-boo through the window of the car while pumping gas... and again people stare at you.

You cry when your child's hamster gets hurt.

You cuddle your hurt boy and kiss his sweaty head, ignoring his puppy dog smell.

You talk about your kids on dates, even though you know you're 'not supposed to'.

You collapse in the bed at the end of the day.

You stay up all night watching your child breathe when they are sick.

Your heart aches with love.

You have all of your lunch dates at Chic-Fil-A.

You stand up for your kids when know one else does.

You feel glamorous walking into church Sunday because it's the first time you've worn make-up in a week.

Your favorite shows are Veggie Tales and Cars 'Number 2', and My Little Pony...

Some of your favorite conversations are with people 3 feet tall.

You cheer very loudly at T-Ball games.

You hear phantom baby cries in the middle of the night.

You hold her hand after someone called her a name... and take captive thoughts of inflicting harm on another child.

You are embarrassed to open your car door.

You step on cheerios and march their crumbs through the house... and in between your sheets.

You wash his camouflage clothes after he goes to bed so he can wear them again the next day.

You swallow your pride and let them dress themselves.

You get your exercise by dancing in the kitchen.

You don't mind smelling like spit up.

You become a pro at hiding greasy hair.

You spend hours begging God in prayer.

You try really hard to believe Jesus wasn't kidding when He said, "Don't worry.."

Johnson and Johnson baby shampoo becomes your favorite scent.

You cry every time your read "You are Special" by Max Lucado.

Wooden spoons have multiple purposes.

Mosquito bites make you angry.

You find dirty diapers in strange places.

You feel like a champion after only 4 hours of sleep.

You consider glue and play dough and crayons and markers and puzzles a great investment.

You send messages of love in lunch boxes every day.

You somehow change an explosive poop on your lap on a crowded air plane and enlist the help of the passenger sitting next to you.

You answer letters to the Tooth Fairy in curly hand writing.

While driving yourself to the doctor, after hacking for a week, your kids ask you if you are sick and you refrain from glaring at them.

You learn to share the gospel in a very simple, childlike way... and cry tears of joy when they come to you late at night and tell you they want to become a Christian.

And then you realize that all the dirty work and long hours and tired shoulders and frustrated moments were all worth it. Because moments like these are why we are here being their mothers. To take them by the little hand, dirty finger nails and all, and lead them to the Saviour who will lead them far better than we ever could.

And we leave them at the cross for a moment, before we pick them up again, and in that moment there is peace. And we wish we could stay in that moment, but mostly we just remember those moments of peace and surrender. Because as mothers it's the hardest thing to hand them over to God and not worry and strive and try harder. Because that is what we do. We mother. And sometimes there is fear and we wonder if it will be enough.

But it will never be enough. Only God can be enough. And we are reminded once again and try and let go a little bit more.

God knows. His heart is more mother than ours. And because He let go of His Son... we can hold tighter to Him.

Happy Mothering.

Toiling.Hoping.Waiting.

It's amazing how you set out to do certain things in a day. Important things, because, well, they are important. And then in an instant it all changes. And none of it is important anymore.

It is amazing how your heart can feel, well, normal. And then in an instant it is hurting. It's swollen with grief and you grasp it, holding tightly willing it to keep beating.

It's amazing how you have no need for the tears resting just below the surface and then in an instant, they are there streaming down your cheeks, running down your neck and you are gasping in anguish.

This, my friends, was the start of my day yesterday. But so much worse for my dear friend Rebecca and her sweet family as they received that call in the middle of the night that told them that her brother, their son, was gone forever.

We are reeling. Me from a distance, watching the tornado wreak havoc on their souls. Them caught in the middle and being pushed and torn and battered by fresh grief.

In moments like these I am forced to wonder. Understanding escapes me and I am left with a gaping wound of wondering. The heart is bleeding out and you look up to heaven seeking the pressure to stop the flow.

My eyes have landed on James 5. God has been using this sweet book in so many different ways to bring me comfort and healing and conviction as of late.

 

Be patient, therefore, brethren, until the coming of the Lord.

Behold, the farmer waits for the precious produce of the soil, being patient about it,

until it gets the early and late rains. You too be patient; strengthen your hearts,

for the coming of the Lord is at hand... Behold we count those blessed who endured.

You have heard of the endurance of Job and have seen the outcome of the Lord's dealings,

 that the Lord is full of compassion and is merciful...

We are toiling in this life. We are farmers planting things, plowing, digging, pulling, aching, hoping. The crop has not been guaranteed us. We wonder if the rains will come or if the hail will come first. We do our best, we work hard and often we are disappointed, because our efforts did not grant what we had hoped it would. It doesn't make sense, because the formula should work. You prepare the soil, you plant the seed, you water the ground... it should then produce fruit.

But often times we do not account for the scorching sun, the wreathing winds, the crushing storms that devastate us. And how do we recover from those?

The how is in the ...compassion and mercy... of our God.

And in the knowing that this is not the end... strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand...

I was listening to a Focus broadcast just a few days ago. They were talking about heaven... how timely. Have you ever said, "When I get to heaven I'm going to ask God..."? Randy Alcorn, author of the book, Heaven, said that really, we wont have to ask. Just seeing God face to face will make it all clear. Just the sight and full, unfiltered presence of the Lord will quiet our questioning hearts, will silence the "what if's", will reassure our doubting wonderings.

In our unglorified state we do not even have the capability of understanding the dealings of the Lord. The why's, the how's.

That is why he tells us to be patient. There will come a day... there will.

In the meantime, there are tears and toiling. The grief cuts us open leaving us raw. We ache for truth and for healing. And I ache for my sister who has ached for me in this real-life friendship we share.

I will go to her tomorrow. I will cry with her. I will listen. I will bear her burden as if it were my own. I will pray and beg for healing. These are the important things now.

And I will be patient as I eagerly await the coming of our Lord.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Goodnight Moon

It's one of my favorites. That little book. I used to have it memorized, now it's only parts I remember.

Bedtime has always been my favorite time of day.

It's still a favorite. But I think my reasons have changed.

Before it was because I was tired. I mean, really exhausted. Mommy was done. I had been going since my feet hit the floor. Giving, giving, giving. There were battles over bowls and cups and the right color. Toy wars had ensued. Sometimes I came out the victor. Sometimes. Discipline had been accomplished. Spankings, timeouts, no t.v., no snack, come inside NOW!

We may have gone to the grocery store, if we absolutely had to. That meant one car seat captive in the back of the buggy, a walking 20 month old beside me and the older 3 year old in the front seat of the buggy. Believe me, this was how it had to be, as funny as it may have looked.

I endured the stares and comments... My you have your hands full! ...You must be military, he's home just long enough to get you pregnant! (really, do people have no couth these days!?) ...God bless your SOUL!  I repeated my rehearsed replies, Why yes I do and I'm so thankful! ... No, I'm not military, but am so thankful for their service to our country, military wives included ... God HAS blessed me, yes. That shut them up, most of the time.

After several melt downs along the way, the kids included, we would arrive home. It was usually nap time by this point. I would quickly deposit the kids in their nap locations, some on my bed with books, others in cribs. Then I would tackle the bags and bags of groceries, which would hopefully last more than a week. This is why I didn't need to go to the gym.

I would try and take advantage of the quiet to get dinner started, but usually got distracted at some point while putting things away. I'd end up cleaning behind the dryer or something and would later wonder why my back hurt.

By the time dinner was well under way there was usually someone on my hip and another one clinging to my leg. I had the other watching Cinderella for sanity purposes.

Daddy would come home. We'd try and have a conversation while inhaling our food over the high volume level of little ones and in between the 20 times I had to get up and go back to the kitchen for something. I'm sure someone had spilled something or picked that time to want to try and go potty and don't forget about the nursing baby who's internal radar senses the precise moment you sit down to eat.

Bath time was essential after dinner. Mashed potatoes were now in ears and caked over eyebrows and they smelled like whatever chicken dish I had haphazardly thrown together. I couldn't risk a tiger picking up their scent in the middle of the night. We would all be wet by the time it was over. But they were clean and smelling so good and I would just breathe them in.

Some nights we would rock and sing and read books before bed. Most nights we would. I would pray over their fuzzy heads as I laid them down in their beds, 1, 2, and 3.  I would sigh a huge sigh of relief as I tiptoed out of their rooms, crossing my fingers in hopes of not having to return sometime in the middle of the night.

Walking down the stairs I felt satisfied. Another day done. I had survived it. A smile would creep over my potato crusted face. I would get to that later. For now, it was the kitchen that must be tackled and then the slippery bathroom and the 10,000 toys that seemed to multiply by themselves which were scattered across the floor, just beckoning you to come and step on one. It may be quiet, but the work was not done.

Many hours later I myself would crawl in bed. I may have tried to read, but wouldn't get very far. The book would have fallen across my chest. I would turn off the light after waking around 2am. I'd make sure the monitor was on. I may have traveled up the stairs just to make sure that tiger hadn't found them and would again revel in their stillness.

During the rest of the night my mind and body would be renewed by precious sleep. Unlikely uninterrupted, but precious all the same.

I would wake again the next morning to more diapers and tantrums and laundry and spit up and... well you probably get the picture.

I'm not proud to admit the survival-mode mentality I lived with in those first few years of mothering. But I was a different person back then. A different mother. I was in a very different season of life and I'd like to think that I've seasoned over time and matured just a bit. Just like with every other thing, I've grown better at mothering the more experience I've had.

Many have commented on how differently I'm doing things with number four. Again, it's a different season, I'm a different mommy.

Tucking them in at night is different too. I'm still tired at the end of the day. They are still loud and still fight and we still battle through the grocery store. But my perspective has been tweaked just a bit. I'm not always in such a hurry to end another day.

If you combine all of my kid's years, then we have celebrated 22 birthdays so far. That's a lot. And I can't believe Judah's first is next month! The more years that flash by, I think the more a Mama realizes just how fast it really goes.

You also realize that no matter what mess or catastrophe may happen in a day, you will survive it. Even if you've been up all night with a sick one, you know you will sleep again. You know the crying will stop and the food throwing and the booger wiping (well, maybe) and the constant bickering and running through the house with muddy shoes... one day we will all have clean houses and we will hate it.

There will be an end to this crazy season of 'mothering'. We will never stop being mothers, but will stop the mothering part. And we will stop tucking them in at night too. They will grow too old for Good Night Moon and I Love You This Much and all my other favorites. Some of mine already have.

That's what I think of when I tuck them in sometimes. So I don't mind laying just a bit longer and snuggling a bit closer. And don't mind giving one more kiss or hug or listening to one more thing that happened in their day or meeting the challenge of tickle me too! They just love that. But I think I love it more.

So as we say good night to our young ones, let's remember that we will one day say good bye to these precious days. We will heave a sigh of relief I'm sure, but I think we'll miss it more. This shouldn't make us sad. Great things and great hope come with every season of life. But maybe it will help to give us a better perspective as we fight off the temptation to rush things and wish it away.

In the great green room there was a telephone
And a red balloon and a picture of--

The cow jumping over the moon

and there were three little bears, sitting on chairs
and two little kittens and a pair of mittens
and a little toy house and a young mouse
and a comb and a brush and bowl full of mush
and a quiet old lady who was whispering "hush"

Goodnight room goodnight moon
goodnight cow jumping over the moon
goodnight light and the red balloon

goodnight bears goodnight chairs
goodnight kittens goodnight mittens

goodnight clocks and goodnight socks
goodnight little house and goodnight mouse

 

goodnight comb and goodnight brush
goodnight nobody goodnight mush
and goodnight to the old lady whispering "hush"

goodnight stars, goodnight air

goodnight noises everywhere

He Built a House

It's taken me too long to write this post.

I started it almost a year ago and had to stop. I realized I couldn't just write about the house. I couldn't write about the house without writing about the man who built the house.

And I realized I couldn't write about the man who built the house without writing about why he built it.

This is a big story. A sad story. And it's really not mine to tell. I had to ask permission. But I will still only tell it from my perspective.

The man we are talking about is my Daddy.

The house began with a dream. And this is what I remember of the beginning of that dream. I was a young child so there is a chance that my childhood lens might be a little clouded or rose-tinted, but this is how I remember it.

I remember making the drive out to Seabrook. It seemed like such a long drive. We'd come out just to look around. It was fun.

There was this big white house with double porches. It looked like one of those really neat houses that you see in movies. I dreamed of living in that house. There were two other white houses across the street. They were smaller, but just as pretty. They looked like family.

There were railroad tracks.

And old buildings that once were special to this small town. Had it really been a town?

There was an old post office that people still used. What fun it would be to have your own post office box! And a key to match it and to have to ride your bike to get your mail. I dreamed of having a post office box.

There were other old buildings that I wanted so badly to explore. They looked so intriguing.

And there were pecan trees. So many pecan trees. What I eventually came to understand was that this used to be a pecan orchard and some of those 'other old buildings' were the packing sheds.

The neighborhood smelled of onion grass and it made me want to reach my hand down under the earth and pull a small bunch out and take a bite. It smelled so delicious.

There were two matching silos. Had those been used for the pecans too? I wondered.

There was a dock that you could fish off or swim off or go crabbing off of. But you had to live there to do those things...

And we didn't.

That was the dream.

Mom and Dad would drive out there and imagine all of those things too. I'm sure just as I did, including wanting their very own post office box.

It was always a little sad when we would drive back home. To the house we knew and the busy street we lived on. Not that we didn't love that house too, but it just wasn't part of the dream.

I remember going to Park Day with our homeschooling group. We met at a house that was in Seabrook too (ironically this would one day be my family's house, my one-day-husband's family). As we turned left to go home, we would all longingly look out the car window to the right and say, "Maybe one day we will be able to turn right to go home..."

It was strange when that day came. I was 13 when we moved out here to this quiet little neighborhood. The roads were still dirt. The houses far apart. There were woods everywhere. Oh how we loved all those things.

Playing manhunt with friends became a favorite. Climbing trees and picking pecans off the ground to eat was another. Staying outside til after dark and taking long walks down to the dock that we could finally call our own, well it was a dream come true for my family.

We eventually moved into another house just down the road from the first one. I loved that house. I used to babysit for a family that lived in that house and now we did. It was strange at first. But it would eventually become our own.

I left that house to go to college. I remember the night before sitting on our porch swing. A favorite place. I cried. I had just said good-bye to my then boyfriend, who would become my husband. I didn't want to say goodbye to anyone else. Not to my parents or brother or sister. Or to my house where I felt so safe and at home.

I came back often to visit. I just couldn't stay away for long. I was sooo homesick.

I got married in that house. Well, in a church, but you know.

After that my parents decided to build a house in the neighborhood.

That decision didn't come easy.

I wasn't living at home anymore. I had my own house somewhere else. But that place was still so special to me. The thought that they wouldn't live there forever was a strange one for me. That I wouldn't be able to come sit on the porch swing made me sad. But things were happening out of their control and they knew they had to do something.

They put that sweet little white house up for sale.

I knew it was just a house. But it had been my house. I grow attached to things easily, so it was hard to let go the day they closed on it. It was so hard for many other reasons too.

My parent's world was starting to crumble. At first it was just small pieces. But then the pieces started to get bigger and bigger. We would later learn how big.

I remember watching my Daddy build this house. It seemed to take a really long time. So much was happening in his life and I remember thinking, building this house is what's saving him.

And I still believe that it did.

We don't really talk about that time much. It's almost like we aren't allowed. My parents have never said that. But it still feels that way. There were so many people involved. People we still know. People we were so close to.

That's just it. We were so close to so many and then we weren't.

How do you recover from that? I mean fully? How do you talk about it? How do you share honestly without causing further pain to others?

I don't want to do that. Not anymore at least. Maybe that's why I've waited so long to write about it. I'm not bitter anymore.. I've extended grace and forgiveness even when it wasn't reciprocated. I've moved passed the consuming anger, even if I still get angry.

Even though I would never want to cause further pain to those involved, I think it's important to acknowledge the hurt. I think it's ok to say, wait a minute, I've been left wounded.

Watching my parents go through that was excruciating. And still is at times. Knowing there was nothing I could do to take away their pain. Nothing I could do to help them regain their life as they new it before. And learning how much had truly been lost... the relationships, their identity and occupation, the good standing in their community and church, their reputation.  If it had just been money. If it had just been a house. If it had just been a job. If it had just been a friend or two.

But oh, it was so much more.

It was devastating and baffling and confusing. Almost like being side-swiped by a car. It just came out of nowhere and left our heads and lives spinning. The damage left us totaled, but mostly mom and dad.


But the hardest thing was to remember there used to be light in his eyes and there isn't anymore.

I know things are going to happen. I know that no church is immune to problems. I know that people are imperfect, that they make mistakes. It is foolish to expect anything else.

It's one thing to make mistakes. It's another to pass over someone lying in a proverbial ditch with a gaping heart-wound. That's just not ok. That's what it felt like.

But I guess in a way it is ok. Because nothing happens out of God's control. Nothing goes unnoticed by Him. Nothing happens in a person's life unless He deems it right and good and for our ultimate holiness and His ultimate glory. That's why we can forgive and move on and look to the future with hope.

If nothing else, (and there is so much more) I've learned that people are fragile. More fragile than we think. Sometimes we can't recover and wont until we reach heaven. Sometimes people smile when they really wish they would just die already. Sometimes their hurt runs so deep that several generations are effected by it.

People can't be looked at through a lens of black and white. We are so much more complex than that. And so our problems. I wish it wasn't so. I wish you could use a Bible verse like a bandaid. Or what worked for you. I wish we could expect people to give the right answer when they are hurting. But that's impossible when they still haven't found it yet.

You can't expect people to stand up and walk without a limp when they have been so badly crippled.

I've also learned that it's ok to talk about it as hard as it is. To share the pain. Not to inflict more pain, but in hopes of find healing for yourself and for others.

In giving us our stories, God never meant for us to keep silent about them. He meant for us to share them with speech seasoned with grace, as it were with salt. Sometimes salt burns. But sometimes that's needed for healing to take place.

So when I walk into this house that I now call home, it's sometimes weird to think that this is where my parents used to live and now I live here. I never lived here with them.

But I love that I live here now and that they live just behind us. At first I thought it would be hard to be so close. But after a year, it has only been good. So good.

So good to see my Daddy's house being used. Being filled with lots of grandchildren and noise and messes. That the table he built twenty plus years ago is still being dined upon by many who love him. Who know the man he is and used to be. And who only wish for his happiness and healing.

But even though it makes me so happy to be living here. I sometimes get sad too.

I get sad when I look at the concrete floor in the living room. I remember seeing it right after it was poured. I remember seeing my dad looking so beaten down. So discouraged and confused and hurt.

I remember the long hours he would be here. To escape. To survive.

I remember worrying so much. That he would fall or get hurt when he was by himself. That no one would know to come help him.  And no one really did know to come and help.

I remember watching Mom up so high on the scaffolding white washing the walls that turned out so beautiful.

I remember the question in her eyes. What's happened? Why?

I remember the isolation we all felt. And still feel at times. Knowing that people were innocently wondering and talking and not knowing how to treat us.

There is so much good represented in this house. There is so much pain too. Because it represents a time in the life of my family that is hard to remember. Hard to look back upon and see the good.

But we are choosing to see the good. And we are thankful for the blessings God has bestowed on our family. Not everything was lost. And so much was truly gained. Understanding God's grace over my life has been one of my greatest joys. I don't know if I would have otherwise.

I hope a year after living here wasn't too soon to share this story. I hope you understand my heart in this. I hope you see my family differently. I hope you see our fragility. But more importantly, I hope you see the strength of my Heavenly Father. And that His grace is all sufficient in our lives, no matter what course it may take. That you can be left standing!

Thanks, Daddy for the privilege of living under a roof that you built. It brings me so much pride to brag on you and your beautiful workmanship. You are one of the most gifted and talented men I know. I love that we are neighbors and that we share a yard. I love that your grandchildren run on floors that you laid. And that I cook in a kitchen you made. I love that you aren't perfect, that you make mistakes and that I can love you anyway. And I love that you love me the same. You and mom have come so far. God has given you a story. A story that is meant to be shared, so that His glory isn't wasted.
I love you, Daddy.

Why We Decided to Homeschool... And Then Changed Our Minds

I have been very slow at posting posts lately. I have had several in the works and for whatever reason, well I could probably name four,  have not been able to finish and publish!

This has been a very difficult one for me to actually write. I've literally started it more times than I know.

I think it's because homeschooling has been such a part of my life since I was in 5th grade. It has played a huge role in shaping the person, wife and mother I have become (good and bad!) .

I love so much about it. I hate so much about it! It can definitely be a topic of one of the most emotionally charged conversations you will have. I know from experience. I think that is because so many have such strong convictions about it. Which is important and can be a good thing. It can also build walls and burn bridges. Both of which I have been a victim of and participator in.

Yeah, I'm so sorry.

Well, to catch those of you up who are not on facebook... We enrolled our sweet Livie Rose in a private Classical Christian school after Christmas.

Surprise!!

I have been asked a lot of questions since then. And I want to take the time to explain where we are coming from and what brought us to this point.


Many of you already know this, but Dustin and I were both homeschooled as children. And when it came time for us to decide what we were going to do for our own children's education it was a lot harder than I thought it would be.

I had always assumed we would homeschool. I was a staunch believer in it. Quite legalistic even. I had pretty much made a blanket decision for all of humanity that homeschooling was the best and only option if you were to produce obedient, God fearing children.

In college I even wrote a few research papers on the topic. Home Schooling Vs. Public Schooling was the title of one. I think I've burned it since... at least I should if I haven't already done so.

But isn't that how it usually is? Most pre-parents have a lot of preconceived notions of how raising children will be. They have it all figured out, until the doctor places that sweet baby in their arms. Can't you envision their panick stricken faces?? Or are you just remembering your own?

See, I began to see homeschooling as a Biblical mandate. When we apply Biblical principles as
though it were a Biblical mandate, that's when things start to get fishy.*

We LIKE rules. Yeah, we really do. It's our nature... the nature that God gave us. He has written His moral code on each of our hearts. We were given the Ten Commandments. The Law. And whether we follow that law or not, we like to make sure others do!

You don't have to dig very deep to see this. Just sit in a room of 2 and 3 year olds for a few minutes and you'll see what I'm talking about. We do not have to be taught this. Again, it's in our nature.

Unfortunately, there is also sin in our nature. So any bit of 'good' qualities we may have are often and quickly warped by sin. And this area is no exception.

We hear a really good Biblical principle and find a really good application of that principle and we automatically assume that EVERYONE should ALWAYS follow suit. (I remember learning in a counseling class I took in college that 'extreme statements' are NEVER good. EVER!)

I am so guilty of this and not just on this issue.

When Olivia was a young toddler I remember talking to a friend who had children in elementary school. They were having a hard time and she said, "Education is the hardest thing about parenting. It's just so hard."

I thought she was overreacting. I mean, really. Education is easy. You just homeschool them! I so unfairly judged her because she had her kids in a brick and mortar school. Sure, you will have hard days and it wont always be easy, but bring your kids home and all of your problems will be solved! Thankfully I didn't say that to her, but that's what I was thinking!

The closer the time came to make that decision for us, the more doubts I had. A lot of change had taken place in my mind and heart regarding this issue. And I wasn't so sure it was always the best option for every family.

I began to understand that I had become super legalistic about a lot of things. I wasn't really looking at people (or myself) as individuals with individual needs. It had become more about fitting into a certain mold so that I would be accepted by my peers, the leaders of the church, even God. I realized I had become more concerned with what others thought about what I was doing than what God might think. Our decision was being motivated by fear. Fear of man.

There was another kind of fear that was a huge motivator. And I think this is pretty common among many (and sometimes justified). Fear that if I didn't homeschool, than I would 'lose' my kids. That they would 'fall away from God'. And ultimately, that I would fail as a parent.

Yes, by putting your children in an anti-God environment 8 hours of their day, you take the risk of that happening. No question. Especially if you are not combating that at home with intentional, Biblical teaching.

But I began to take a closer look at the many homeschool families that I had grown up with. What I found was a little confusing to me. I found that if all of those children were put into a basket and you reached your hand in and grabbed a handful, half would come out following God and the other half sadly lost. They didn't seem to know who they were or where they were going, much less who God was or what He meant to them.

How could this be?

So it wasn't the 'fix all' answer to our problems after all. It didn't come with a guarantee that our kids would 'turn out alright' or that I would even get the 'perfect parent' award.

So maybe it wasn't the best option for every family.

We hesitated.

Things had been so clear before and now we were left with a whole lot of questions that we couldn't find answers to. It's hard trusting God when you can't see the outcome.

To make an already long story a bit shorter...

We ended up enrolling Olivia in preschool at The Parish Church of St. Helena when she was three with much hesitation and trepidation. I was nervous at first. But it turned out to be a wonderful experience for all of us. Especially for my sweet, very rambunctious, very strong-willed three year old, who really did need more than I could give her at the time. I also had a 2 year old and a 6 month old at home and life was really busy for me. Hard even. Very hard.

She ended up staying at that little school for 3 years, including her Kindergarten year. We loved it. I assisted in a preschool class one of those years and had my boys in the preschool program as well. We were all there together. I got to see them on the playground and in their classes. It was so fun.

The following year they were not offering first grade. I wasn't sure what we were going to do. I wasn't 'afraid' of school anymore, the brick and mortar kind that is... Or was I?

I was so comfortable with the situation we had. We were all there together. I loved the environment. Olivia was thriving. Could I put her in a public school?

We explored many options and prayed A LOT! By the end of her Kindergarten school year I was almost beside myself. We were still undecided and I had no idea what to do.

Finally God offered clarity through my husband. Oh how thankful I was for him. He sat me down and said, "This is crazy! You are going crazy! And it's making me crazy!!" He went on to say that he felt God was leading us to homeschool.

At that point I didn't care what he told me to do. I was just glad to finally have an answer and be able to move forward.

That first year was quite challenging. Even though I had been homeschooled I had never actually home-schooled! It was tough, especially since I'm not the nurturing, teacher type. I don't do lesson plans. I find no joy in coming up with fun crafts. Explaining how to add numbers made me feel a little loony at times. And being in a small space with three little ones all day took some major adjusting (attitude adjusting that is)!

It was tough. But I soon found myself learning to love it, if not parts of it. I didn't feel like it was something we had to do to earn God's approval or man's approval. I wasn't doing it out of fear (well, maybe a little). Mostly we were homeschooling because that was what God had lead us to do that year for that child. It was such a relief.

The next year came around and it was still hard. But I felt more confident and everything was just a bit easier than the year before. I added a kindergartner. We were finding our groove and I was enjoying the routine.

Maybe we'll become a homeschool for life family after all!

We were approaching our third year of homeschooling. I was expecting our fourth child. For some reason I just wasn't that nervous about it. It was the first year that I attended our local homeschool conference and didn't burst into tears upon entering the building!

I had a plan. I knew more of what to expect. I knew which curriculum we were going to use. I had adjusted to being with my children all day every day and had come to love it. And I was excited!

The start of our third year was the best by far. It was fun even! Even with a newborn and schooling an additional one (a total of 3) I didn't feel too overwhelmed.

And then...

Wham!!

It stopped working.

It had never been easy. We had our usual ups and downs and ruts as most homeschoolers can relate to. So I think my expectations were realistic as far as that goes.

But it became very apparent that we had hit a wall. I don't know how else to describe it. Other than to add it was extremely intense.

I woke up dreading the day. We couldn't even make it through a devotional. It was emotionally and mentally draining. And I didn't know how to move passed it.

That was the thing. We couldn't move on. I had to stop and that meant getting more and more behind academically. And we were getting absolutely no where relationally either. This was the part that disturbed me the most. 

To sacrifice your child's education for the sake of bettering a relationship makes sense to me.
But sacrificing you and your child's relationship for the sake of homeschooling is stupid and prideful.

That's what we were doing.

I know this sounds a little backwards. If I hadn't experienced it for myself I don't think I would have believed it. Homeschooling is supposed to have the opposite affect. If you have a strained relationship with your child and you are able to focus more on them and their heart through the flexibility of homeschooling, then your relationship should be mended! It worked for me as a young elementary-age child and I had seen it work in the heart of Olivia as a first grader.

So I was genuinely caught off guard when the opposite began to take place. The harder I tried, the further I pushed her away. Is it a heart issue vs. a behavior issue? No doubt. Was I aware of that? Yep. Was I taking intentional steps to address that and not just the behavior? You betcha. Did I have the capability to change her heart? Absolutely not. Never will I ever have the ability to change the heart of my child.

I can do my best to foster an atmosphere of repentance through prayer and teaching and heart focus. But it is ultimately up to God if actual heart change is to occur.

The approach we were taking just wasn't working and her overall spirit was taking a rapid decline. We had to make a change.

A change was needed for other reasons as well.

I have never believed that education is everything. Especially class room education. I truly believe you can produce healthy minded, well rounded, intelligent children in a home education environment. I have seen many encouraging examples of this.

I have also never taken the stance that "It's just third grade" as I've heard many say. I believe it's important. No matter what grade. Each year you are adding to the foundation of education that will take them throughout their entire educational career! If that is not a strong foundation it wont continue to get stronger on it's own. It will get shakier and shakier and will make things much harder for them in the end.

So although education isn't everything, it is VERY important and shouldn't be taken lightly.

During this time of my life a lot was being demanded of me. And maybe the emotional strain was making things ten times harder than it should have been, but I just wasn't doing my job as home-educator well - enough.

Things were falling through the cracks. There were many days that I just couldn't get to everything... or to one of my kids at all. I had a HUGE cloud of guilt hanging over me. I don't need my children to be academic geniuses. But I do want them to have a fair chance and to receive a good education.

I wasn't providing that for them.

I also wasn't providing an atmosphere of learning for Olivia that was suited to her needs. Instead I was squelching them. She is a very bright child. Very artsy if you will. Creative and fun and simply put, beautiful. Gosh, I love this kid. But I am sooo different from her! I admire her abilities and wish I could be more like her and enter her world better than I do. But the fact is, God created me to be who I am... with limitations. I was not cultivating the atmoshpere of learning that she needed to thrive in. In fact, as I mentioned before, the opposite was taking place. None of us (including her brothers) were able to thrive educationally, emotionally or spiritually.

So something had to change.

Some might be thinking, "Well the change needed to happen in you (me) not your educational choice."

Ok, so now's my chance to address the home-schooling Mom, thanks for bringing that up!

I think there is a tremendous burden placed on us home-schooling Moms. By others and by our own selves.

It is ingrained in our thinking that we can be and must be everything to our kids. And when we find ourselves failing in some sense we start viewing ourselves as just that, failures, instead of simply overburdened human beings who, wait for it...  have limitations!

 It's an unfair burden we place on ourselves and others. And it's also unbiblical.

Only Christ can be everything to our children. And that is not conditional on your educational choices. Christ is so much bigger than that.

I'm so glad that I don't have to be omni-present in my children's life to ensure that they will turn out alright. I'm so glad that I can trust a much bigger (than myself) God who cares infinitely more for my children than I will ever have the capability of. And I'm so glad that I don't have to fit a certain mold in order to have God's blessings over my life. In our absolute worst state, God chose that moment to bless us with the most incredible mind-blowing blessing - forgiveness and freedom.

I will finish with this.

It was very scary for us to make this step. It kinda happened fast and unexpectedly, although a lot of prayer went into it. I never would have predicted enrolling one of my children in a school mid-year. This was not the plan. But really I guess you could say it was the plan... I just wasn't aware of it. God had planned this all along.

And I can say that with honesty and assurance and excitement.

I am watching my girl thrive in ways that I've never seen before. She is meeting the challenge. She is loving making new friends. She LOVES her teacher (yes, I've had to deal with some jealous feelings when I've read the "I love you" notes she's written to her). And she is blossoming as we prayed she would. There have been tears. It has been a huge adjustment for all of us. But overall it has been one of the best things that has happened to our family. I have even seen a huge improvement in my boys, who I'm still homeschooling. The tension is gone and they are thriving.  I have more time for them and the difference is undeniable.

I am so thankful for this confirmation.

I know this is really long, but there is probably a lot more I could say on the subject. But I don't want to kick a dead horse.

Just remember, no matter what educational decision you make it will never come with a guarantee that your kids will turn out perfect.  As long as you do your best and what works for each child and stay accountable to God instead of man, well, that's all you can do. And that's simply what we are trying to do.

We are taking one year, one child at a time and trying to be flexible to the changes that are needed. And we are finding freedom in that.

I see now that my friend of long ago really wasn't overreacting at all. Education IS one of the hardest things about parenting. You have to do it! There is just no way around it. But it doesn't have to cripple you either. God really is bigger than you think He is.





*Thanks Russ for helping me put words to my chaotic thoughts. Not that you would ever read my blog, but thought I'd say thanks anyway!

Toiling

If you look closely, you will see the nice dark line of dirt underneath my sweet baby's toe nail.

Really?

I completely understand how my 7 and 5 year old come in with black, caked nails. After all they were most likely digging in dirt searching for turtle food (worms).

But a sweet 5 month old who isn't even sitting or crawling yet? Now that stumps me!

It is a reminder of the world we live in. No matter how 'clean' we try to keep ourselves, there is always some sort of 'dirt' trying to sneak in. No matter how innocent we seem, there is some kind of film underneath.

Olivia tried an experiment recently. The 'perfect' experiment. She wanted to see how perfect she  could be for one whole day.

I think I burst her little bubble when I said, no matter how perfect you are, there will still be sin in your heart that will make your efforts imperfect. She tried anyway, and did very well at pretending I might add.

But there will always be that fine dark line of dirt, no matter how hard we try.

So thankful for the blood of Jesus that washes all things white as snow... Oh how we need Him.

The Mom Look

Today is Saturday (if you weren't aware).

It's my 'free' day.

It sounds better than it actually is. Because although I don't have the weekday responsibilities looming over me, I have Saturday responsibilities looming instead. But don't get me wrong. I love Saturdays. This glorious day allows me to get caught up with the stuff that's fallen between the cracks during the week.

I should be catching up on dusting right now. But instead I'm catching up on blogging...

Last Monday was... well... a Monday.

It had been a day and half since my last shower. It had been two weeks since I had attempted the mountain of laundry. And it was the first day back to school (since Friday) and for some reason that always overwhelms me just a bit.

I had forgotten to eat breakfast as usual. I was feeling a bit on edge due to the 4 cups of coffee I had ingested so by 11:00 I was shaking-starving and quickly inhaled leftover rice and beans from the previous night. Good protein, right?

So when my husband called and told me that he was on 'this side of town, so how about we meet for lunch?' I of course said yes! (this never happens) But I looked down in horror at my appearance, plus I wasn't even hungry!

Oh well, I thought. I'll just throw on a hat. Besides, no one will notice and I can just sit and enjoy his company.

I didn't realize that my brother-in-law would be with him. Don't misunderstand, we love Brandon and it was a pleasant surprise. Until he said...

"Whoa... you got the Mom Look going on today!"

So, someone had noticed...

I laughed (really) and agreed with him. It was bad. So bad in fact that I took a picture.

I'm not sure why I enjoy humiliating myself...

I couldn't shake his comment for the rest of the day. Actually it's been a week. (but believe me, it's a good thing)

The Mom Look

I have laughed to myself repeatedly this week. It's true. I have the Mom Look these days. But I'm ok with that. More than that actually, I'm proud of it.

Lil' Mom in training

Because, guess what. I'm a MOM!! A mom of four little ones and they are my life, so why shouldn't I look the part?

If you are a mom and have never read, "Loving the Little Years" by Rachel Jankovic, you've just got to stop what your doing now (but finish reading this first!) and order it on Amazon. I promise you'll love it!

I LOVE what she had to say on "Me Time" and what that should mean to us moms. Here is a little excerpt from that chapter.

 

 

 

Scars and stretch marks and muffin tops are all part of your kingdom work. One of the greatest testimonies Christian women can have in our world today is the testimony of joyfully giving your body to another... the testimony of women who know the cost and joyfully pay it is profound. So make sure that you aren't buying into the world' propaganda. While there are a great many rewards, the sacrifice is very real. The reason so many women don't want to do it is because it is very hard and has very real costs. But the answer to these obstacles is not to run away in fear as the world does, but to meet it with joy, and in faith.

My very kind and wise husband once left a note for me on Easter morning, two weeks after Daphne was born. He wrote, "To my wife, before she even goes near the closet on Easter morning."... In it, he encouraged me to realize that there was no more fitting way to celebrate Easter (or any part of the Christian life) than in a body that has been undone on behalf of another.

So realize that your body is a testimony to the world of God's design. Carry the extra weight joyfully until you can lose it joyfully. Carry the scars joyfully as you carry the fruit of them. Do not resent the damages that your children left on your body. Just like a guitar mellows and sounds better with age and scratches, so your body can more fully praise God having been used for His purposes. So don't resent it, enjoy it!

I have definitely needed to be reminded of this 3.5 months post-baby. Having children takes a toll on your body, your mind and soul.

You are no longer just a woman or a wife. You are now a short-order cook, potty trainer, teacher (whether you home school or not),
etiquette instructor, launderer, cleaning service provider, nose wiper, nurse, chauffeur, kisser-of-boo-boos, discipline-er, etc...

And as our pastor's wife just said last Friday at our Play and Pray, "I am so proud of you all! You have the hardest job in the world." Gosh we need to hear that. Because it is hard and sometimes we can get lost. Lost climbing the mountain of laundry.

Motherhood changes you. And we must embrace that. Otherwise we will come to resent our mothering.

But at the same time, we can't let "The Mom Look" define us and take away our femininity. It's important to remember who we are for our own sanity and it's important for our husbands and children too. (oh gosh, I really need to hear this today too!)



In that same chapter Rachel says this,

Your body is a tool - maintain it. Having sacrificed your body for your children is no excuse for schlepping around in sweatpants for the rest of their childhood (oops!). When you were eighteen, you might have been skinny without trying. In your thirties, after having had a pile of kids, the chances are good that you will need to try.

 



I remember my 25th birthday. I had just given birth to my third child (literally the day of). We celebrated with my family a week or so after. I was so touched when my sister-in-law, Mom and sister decided to give me a 'make-over' as a gift. I tried not to let the thought seep in that they were doing this because they thought I needed it! Instead I enjoyed the pampering.

I will be forever grateful for that sweet act of kindness! I had really let myself go. I hadn't even realized it until I was in the store trying on clothes and shoes... when was the last time I did this! Amy my s-i-l was wonderful at helping me find a new style that I was in desperate need of.

That was five year ago. And I have learned so much about dressing nice and looking pretty for my man. Which doesn't always mean make-up and matching accessories.

But I find myself a little stuck these days. And I need to find myself... again.

I am going to have the Mom Look every now and then. And I'm ok with that, because that's where I am in life right now. I am a busy, homeschooling mom of four.

My body (and appearance) is bearing the fruit of motherhood. And that is a blessing that I do not take for granted. What a small sacrifice it is.

But I'm also a wife.

And a woman.

And it's important not to forget that. That's why just the other day I went and bought some new perfume and some stud (baby-pulling proof) earrings... and resisted buying new comfy 'workout' clothes (quotes b/c I don't wear them to work out in!).

Yes, it's fun to indulge and pamper yourself just a bit. But don't forget the true renewal and reminding you of who you are will only come from God and His Word.

This is so hard for me. But it truly works! God's Word is alive and it speaks to our hearts, not matter where we are stuck in life.

If you have an extra minute, skip on over to my friend's blog where she writes about some practical how-to's on how to make time for this. She should know, she's got 10 kids! And is still homeschooling 8 of them! And she's a real person! You'll love her.

Ok, back to my Saturday catch-up day! I'm getting a late start, but that's ok. I love sharing my heart with you and it helps me better understand what's going on inside me too. Thanks for the therapy!

Just When you Finally Have things Figured Out

*WARNING: This post contains pregnancy talk and may not be suitable for the man who has no idea what being 4cm dilated means or gags at the mention of the word fluid.

-------

You find yourself still pregnant two days past your due date!

My friend told me that I jinxed myself. And maybe I did. But the reality is, I really had never made it to a due date! Not just once, but thrice, my friends. So what was I supposed to expect especially with a fourth pregnancy??

This has been a roller coaster of a week for me to say the least.

I thought labor had started twice. With strong contractions, intensifying over a 3-5 hour period. Only to stop as suddenly has it started.

I thought my water had broken. Yeah, not a pleasant thought when I realized it wasn't amniotic fluid!

I was told by my midwife that I was dilated to 4cm and most likely would go by the weekend. (It is now Tuesday)

I have had at least 3 days of constant, strong and uncomfortable cramping and contractions.

I have watched my due date come and go.

I have struggled with intense discomfort due to being so dilated.

I have had to endure the million questions and suggestions and opinions from well meaning family and friends. (Sorry if I have not responded well or not at all)

I have experienced swelling in my feet, legs, toes, hands, fingers, lips, face, nose, etc...

But the hardest part about this past week, has been the battle within my mind. I'd like to blame it all on the crazy hormones that are threatening to make me crazy. And maybe that's part of it.

Maybe it's the desperation I feel to be "unpregnant" as Levi would say.

Maybe it's because I'm just weary.

I'd really like to blame it on all those things. But in the end I know that I have to be responsible for my thoughts and actions.

I have experienced true weakness this week. True 'humanity'. Shame for not trusting. Embarrassment for letting my thoughts and emotions get the better of me. I have struggled with fear and anxiety like never before.

I came across a post I wrote just before going to Ukraine December of 2010. It's titled A Calming Presence. I wasn't looking for it, it just seemed to appear out of no where. I know it was the Lord speaking to me, encouraging me.

I was in a similar place just before leaving for Ukraine. Struggling with fear and doubt. But through that God showed me that it's ok. Even in the midst of our weakness, He has a plan. He can still use us. And still prove to us that He is God, holding all things together.

Sunday was particularly bad. I woke up in a panic. The fear had over taken me the night before and I had completely succumb to it. I believed the words of the one who was attacking and oh how far I fell.

I knew my mind needed renewing. But the weight of my Bible was almost too heavy to bear.

I asked my Mother-in-Law for some Scripture references. She is such a huge encouragement to me. She doesn't shy away from giving you Truth, even when you want someone to just feel sorry for you. Within minutes I had a slue of Scriptures dealing with fear and worry. I spent a long time meditating on them. Praying and crying through them. Allowing the Lord's peace to wash over me. I felt invigorated. Able to see clearly once again. To recognize my blessings and to be thankful.

This releasing of control has been so hard for me. Coming to terms with the fact that I have to place my trust in a God who doesn't promise ease and comfort. That His goal for us is to be holy and not always happy. That He is always good but isn't always safe. Well, it's been a moment by moment battle. The failures have threatened to shake me to my core. And the victories have been slight in comparison.

But thankfully, this is the encouragement we have:

Let the beloved of the Lord rest in him, for he shields him all day long and the one the Lord loves rests between his shoulders - Deut. 33:12

Who can speak and have it happen if the Lord has not decreed it? Is it not from the mouth of the Most High that both calamities and good things come? - Lam. 3:37-38

...call upon me and come and pray to me and I will listen to you...

I will be found by you - Jer. 29:11-14

Humble yourself under God's might hand that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on Him because he cares for you. Be self-controlled and alert. Your ENEMY the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the FAITH... And the God of grace... will restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. - 1Peter 5

For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the spirit of sonship... - Rom. 8:15

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us... - Rom. 8:26

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither present or future, nor any powers... will be able to separate us from the LOVE of God - Rom 8:38

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God which transcends all understanding will GUARD your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Finally brothers, 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.

Phil. 4

I am so thankful for freedom in Christ. That I can share these things with you, speak them out loud and not have to be shameful. My weakness can be used for the glory of God. And it should. There is nothing within us, no strength or power or goodness. Not even faithfulness or loyalty. It doesn't make sense that God would pursue this one-sided relationship with us. But he does. 

And oh how thankful I am for that.

So, take this from someone who speaks from experience. If you are trying to figure out life, even the small moments within life, stop right now and let go of control. You'll save yourself a lot of agony.

Oh, and would you mind reminding me of these things in a day or two?

Thanks.

If I've Done it Once...

**This post was started  a few weeks ago, in the midst of packing/moving**

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So, lately Dustin and I have been a little frustrated.

And that frustration has been directed at the three beautiful gifts God has given us.

Olivia

Deacon

& Levi

My frustration comes when I've packed a box and the next day it's not only been emptied, but spread out into every crack and crevice, under beds and in drawers, etc...

How?

WHY??

Frustration comes too when I back over the newly purchased (for Christmas) scooter that was left laying in the driveway behind the van. After we have told them and told them to make sure to put away their toys so that doesn't happen - again!

This was NOT a good mothering moment...

I throw the van into park, then my pregnant self out the door after I feel the crunch of scooter under my tire. I then stomp to the back of the van, pick up the bent scooter and very dramatically throw it into the center of the yard. I then stomp back to the driveway, pick up what's left of the wheel and fling that into the yard to join it's destroyed significant other!

And there were witnesses. Four of them to be exact. Yes, my 3 children and my much afraid sister-in-law whom I don't think had ever had the privilege of seeing THAT idiot side of me.

There was silence in the van when I returned. Silence on their parts at least. No, I'm not done fuming quite yet... yes, I will leave you to assume the worst of me.

Then there is DQ who so willingly goes outside to pack up the shed and the yard only to find his tools and various camping items have been dispersed across the yard, up in the tree house, left out in the yard and woods and rain for who knows how long.

And when he goes to use the drill finds that that must have been one of the items left out in the rain, therefore is no longer in working order. And he is left to use a good old fashioned screw driver to take apart cabinets and dismantle them from walls.

We have been quite the disgruntled set of parents.

We were venting about such the other day and as we were talking I was reminded of a passage in Romans 8.

For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear,

but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we

cry, "Abba, Father."

The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children.

Now if we are children, then we are heirs - heirs of God and

co-heirs with Christ... (vs. 15-17)

God calls us His children. I'm sure there are many reasons for this. He is the Father. We have been given a spirit of sonship, adopted, we are His heirs... But I think the main reason is because, well, we act like children!

We tear apart what's been put together, carelessly throwing aside the important and disregarding the holiness of God and all that He calls us to. We try to fix, but instead of fixing, we just make a bigger mess. We are demanding, we whine and complain, and are ungrateful. We run ahead or lag behind. We push and we pull wanting to move faster. We are impatient.

We as parents deal with these kinds of issues on a daily basis. And oh the frustration! But let us have eyes to see that we are no different.

And let us not miss an opportunity to be reminded of the love of our Father. I wish I could extend that love purely to my own children. But see, I am a child myself. I am learning right along side them. So how is it that I get so frustrated with them when I am guilty of the very same things? But oh how much deeper my sin goes... it's really not the same at all.

That brings an even bigger challenge. How can I, who has been made co-heirs with Christ, who has received so much grace from my Father - who tells us to call him Daddy - how can I then not show that same love and compassion and patience to my children? Their offenses being so trivial compared to mine...

I pray that as I continue to learn these lessons, my children will be spared the vision of Mom loosing it and throwing the scooter pieces across the yard. Hopefully instead they will leave my home with a deep sense of the way THE Father casts our sins into the depths of the sea and remembers them no more. That no matter what the offense, His grace and love transcends them all.

Now hopefully I can put their unpacking skills to good use when we move into the new house!

(Which we did and are loving by the way. I can't wait to start on THAT post!)

A Long Year

I started drowning last Friday.

Drowning in sad thoughts.

Thinking over this last year and all the difficult circumstances we have been thrown into like a raging sea.

I know I am not special in this. Many of you have lost so much and have experienced such sadness this year. I have ridden the waves of your burdens too, as only one can from a distance. It has been a tough year for many.

I feel tired and weak. It's hard swimming against the tide. The under current threatens to pull you under and sweep you away.

That almost happened to me once when I was a child. If it weren't for my strong Daddy's arm I was holding on to with all of my might, I'm sure the current would have overtaken me.

Hmm... what a picture.

Maybe I am tired from holding on so tight. Grasping with all of my might to the truth of His words, His promises, trusting so hard when things just don't make sense or go the way that seems right. When sin enters and destroys, when pain and meager efforts to control begin to overtake me.

Yes, I'm tired.

I have been tempted to get frustrated with Christmas coming so fast as it always does. With so much to do and no time or energy to do it. But that would truly be drowning. That would be loosing sight of the shore line.

It is for this reason we can celebrate. His coming.

If the toilets aren't cleaned or the carpets go un-vacuumed, what does it matter?

He has come to give us rest, true rest in Him. He came to leave us with a Comforter for these times of deep sadness and trial. He came so that we wouldn't have to drown in a sea of despair. He came to be our Rescuer. And He holds all things together even if it looks like everything is falling apart.

That is the life line I am tightly holding onto these days. My knuckles are white, my jaw a bit clenched, but I'm not going to let go. If I do, I'll sink, I'm sure of it.

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned...

For as in the day of Midian's defeat, you have shattered the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor...

For unto us a child in born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace...

He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and familiar with suffering...

Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him and afflicted. but he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him and by his wounds we are healed. We all like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters...

(excerpts from Isaiah 9, 53, and 55)