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!



 

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

A Question

I do have a question, but I will get to that later...

The past two posts have gotten a lot of hits. I'm not used to seeing big 'numbers' on my blog... I mean, I only have a few followers (but oh how precious you are to me!).

I don't want to become a number counter. Really. I don't write for numbers. I write for my own soul. I write to be heard. And I hope to bring encouragement to whomever may come across my musings...

But I couldn't help but notice the numbers.

Lately I have felt a stirring in my soul. Maybe it's just the baby fog finally wearing off, the more sleep I get.

But I think it's more than that.

Have you ever felt a stirring in your soul? It's kinda close to your heart. A fluttering almost.

It's happened before... and a couple years later I went to Ukraine.

It happened another time and a year later I had my fourth baby.

I'm sure it's happened other times as well.

But this time it's different than those other times I mentioned.

This time words and thoughts are flooding my mind and heart and soul. I am constantly writing.... in my head.

So I'm praying a lot. And trying to be patient. And not get frustrated when I'm driving or rocking a fussy baby or teaching school when those thoughts start flowing. The right time will come I'm sure.

When I am able to write, I am writing on marriage. And I hope to share that with you soon.

I am also writing about something else very close to my heart. And here is the question...

Am I Legalistic?

Hope to have an answer for you soon...!

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!

The War

Today I feel war weary.

I have been waking up tired. Timid and slow to face the day.

There have been other times when I have felt war weary. Tired of fighting against... there is always something to fight against.

I guess these times of weariness are inevitable. For this is a weary world.

"Do not grow weary in doing good..."

I wonder how this is possible. Truly. On this side of things I mean. When there is always some frustration you keep bumping into. And you wish you could just ease by, but you can't. So you keep pushing and pushing.

My muscles are sore and my heart aches.

So today I've decided not to fight (as much). I'm not saying this is a good thing. In a way I'm just giving up. As a mother, you have to fight. Fight for discipline. Fight for naps. Fight for order and control.

But I'm tired of being the enforcer. The referee. The all around bad-guy.

Can I say these things?

Because we aren't really allowed to give up. To give in.

But I am today.

Don't worry. It's not for good. Just a little break from the war. What's that called R &R? Yeah, that's just what I need...

Missing You

Gosh I miss this!

I just can't believe how busy I am these days and that I can't sit here and type like I used to.

Having #4, homeschooling 3, directing music at my church, hosting this or that, cleaning and keeping up with my arch nemesis (laundry) has my head spinning. And my writing chair sadly empty.

Some people laugh at us bloggers I guess. But they don't understand. And maybe I don't understand either.

What is it about sharing your words, your thoughts, your life, your pictures with the world? As small as your world may be.

For me, I think it forces me to be honest. Honest with myself and honest with my world. God has given each of us a small piece of the world. And He's given/giving us a story too.

It's important to share that. Whether you blaawwgg or not!

I love typing my thoughts and ponderings out on this white screen. I love what happens to my soul when I push that 'publish' button. And I love when you share your thoughts about my thoughts. That's just plain fun.

I never imagined that I would still be 'at it' after two years ~ this all began when I was preparing to go to Ukraine. Or that I would come to love it so much. To depend on it for therapy. =) I just never imagined.

I never used to read other people's blogs either. Who cares? (I so foolishly thought!) But since I entered the world of blogging, my world has exploded! I've even made new friends. And I've learned so much about people and moms and their lives. And I really love that.

There is so much to say. So much to share. So much to learn from one another.

So during this season of Thanksgiving, I'm very thankful for you all in blog land. And I'm thankful for the opportunity to share in it. But man, I'm sure missing you all...

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.

A Forceful Reminder

I am grateful for the little reminders we receive throughout our lives that it's ok to slow down, to let things go, to relax just a bit more.


Being pregnant has been the reminder I needed.

I realized this the other night while making dinner, when I dropped an egg noodle on the floor.

It stayed there for a couple of days (this is the only time I wish I had a dog).

I've learned that you don't have to run to the stove when the pot is over flowing. You can casually walk if you want, waddle even, and get to it in time before something disastrous happens.

I've learned that the phone doesn't have to be answered on the 1st ring or even the 10th. That the person calling will understand you needing to call them back because you just couldn't get there fast enough.

I've learned that toes can be used for fingers.

And that the dishes wont mind sitting in the sink another day.

I've learned that you don't have to go and do to enjoy life. You can stay and do nothing and it be ok.

I've learned to let others help out (others as in an 8 and 6 and 5 year old). It teaches them responsibility and allows me to let go of perfectionism, at least a little.

I've learned that birthday presents and thank you notes can be late and still carry meaning.

And that the yard can look played in and it not matter what the neighbors think (sorry mom and dad).


I've learned that children can survive longer than you would have thought when you forget to feed them lunch. (yes, I really did that)

And that cereal makes for a great dinner.

That life and church and family continues even when you have to lay down a while.

I think that's been the biggest thing. I used to think I was so important. The world would literally come to an end if I didn't or couldn't or wouldn't.

It hasn't.

And I'm so glad. Because I just can't keep bending over, backwards or otherwise. It's just too dang hard at them moment.

Seeing the Good

I have been aching to write this post.

Before Olivia's letter, I left you with a heaviness. It is where I am and have been yes, but it is not ALL of where I have been or where I am.

There is so much more to it.

I feel strongly the importance of facing the hardness of life and the goodness of God and how they work together. I feel strongly the importance of talking about it. Being real and honest. Not pretending that there isn't, excuse my crudeness, crap to deal with on a daily basis. Such as difficulties in marriage, raising children, disappointments in life, sin ever-invading...

But I also feel strongly the importance of sharing the good that God has brought from it or is bringing. The gifts He gives us in the daily. Where and how He blesses. We are all so different, therefore the blessings look a little different.

We should never live in the past. But what a waste it would be to not learn from it. To appreciate the good, to recognize the blessings. To give thanks for what He has given. And to share with others.

Isn't that what we work so hard to teach our children? To be honest, to give thanks, to share?

So here is my sharing of some of the gifts God has given me this past year and my choosing to see them...

#1 I must first begin with my husband. Please understand, I am not trying to be predictable.  But I must say these words to him and I must share my heart with others, because I believe it's important.

I was reminded through my mother complimenting Dustin over New Year's, of how I just don't say it enough.

I think life gets in the way too often and we focus on the stresses and the not fast enough's and the not as I would have done it's... And we miss the heart behind the man. Our men. And instead of complimenting and showing appreciation, WE fall short and nag instead.

I'm not a huge 'nagger' (at least I wouldn't say so), but I do too often stay quiet on the other side of things. I just don't say thanks enough.

So, I am saying it now.

Thanks, Babe, for all you do for me and for the kids.

I know you say you don't do much, but you really do. A lot is found in the little. Especially over the last several months when I was down physically or emotionally. You stepped up, you took over and you didn't make me feel bad for it. You were the support I needed when I didn't feel like I could stand anymore, or take yet another blow. You stood up for what was right. You prayed with me. You took the kids, you made us dinner, you cleaned up the kitchen and did the laundry and put them to bed, so I could do what needed doing or not do. I don't think I would have survived well without you.

In the past, the stresses of life had a tendency to tear us apart, to divide, to cause strife and trouble between us. I am so thankful things are different now. Instead, we have come together and acted as a team. I am so thankful. You are one of my biggest blessings, and you shone brightly in the midst of so much darkness. And I thank you.

#2 I have been struck hard by the significance of the church in a believer's life. 'Church' has always been an integral part of my life. I don't remember a time when I wasn't involved in a local church. It's just the way it was. It was never a fight or a drudgery. I loved it. It was important to me, I wanted to be there, even as a young child.

But I don't think I truly appreciated how vital it is to a believer's soul.

When our pastor left, we were devastated. I think I mentioned before that I just wanted to close the doors for a while, take some time to mourn, recover in the silence, in the darkness. I was frustrated when the very next Sunday we were there, sitting on the front pew, singing, worshiping, and yes, crying. Can't I do this alone? On my bathroom floor??

I wondered how our assistant pastor was able to give the sermon he did that day. How the singers were able to lead the congregation without falling apart. How people walked about smiling and chatting, talking together as if nothing had happened. But that wasn't true. Not a single person in that sanctuary didn't feel what had happened.

Over the weeks that followed, as my mind continued to process and grieve over our loss, I began to see more and more. I began to understand.

It was something our assistant pastor said early on... "This isn't our church. These aren't our ministries. They are all God's and He doesn't need us to hold them together. That's His job." (or at least something close to that)

While I was laid up on the couch dealing with pregnancy sickness that one verse from Colossians kept coming to my mind.

He is before all things, and in HIM all things hold together. 1:17

And something else that struck me as I later opened my Bible to let that one verse roll over me, was the very next verse.

And HE is the HEAD of the body, the church; HE is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything HE might have the supremacy. v.18

There it was, all neatly packaged together. For me on those days of sickness and doubt and grief over my church. Christ was still at work and even working through our suffering body. Just as He was working through MY suffering body, knitting together new life inside.

#3 I have also been so encouraged by the true friendship and the sisterhood we have in Christ. Making friends has always been a hard thing for me. But last year I was determined to lay aside my insecurities and give it all I had. To share my life with others and be welcomed into theirs. What a difference it has made.

At my lowest points I was able to pick up the phone or shoot an email, to let someone know I needed prayer. And I knew they were praying. I was able to share in our Play and Pray group and I was encouraged and refreshed.

Recently my children and I did a short study on the different gifts God has given each of us. Spiritual gifts and what that means. It was fun hearing their thoughts on what kinds of gifts God gives us... We eventually made our way to the Bible to find out what these gifts were really all about. As I was looking through my Bible trying to find that one passage, I came across verses like these...

The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ... 1Cor. 12:12

Now the body is not made up of one part but of many. vs. 14

If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. vs. 26

Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it. vs. 27

Again I was struck. Mostly by the simplicity of the picture of a working body, with arms and legs, head and shoulders, and yes, knees and toes... When a part of the body suffers, the whole of the body suffers, over compensating for the wounded area, protecting it and sheltering it from further damage. The smallest of cuts can evoke a sense of greatest awareness. We tend to it, we are more careful, move at a slower pace.

I was so thankful for the opportunity to see the working body of Christ. To experience those coming along side of  me. Picking up where I had to leave off. Tenderly caring for my wounds. You all have my deepest gratitude.

#4 Another true blessing was the gift of family. Like all families we have had our up's and down's. There have been times of pain and growth, hurt feelings and grudges, things left unsaid and things that should have been left unsaid... We all have those times (right?). We have not gone without our struggles.

 

Letting my sister 'go' caused a pain I hadn't before experienced. Oh there has been pain before, but this was different. It wasn't like a spouse or child or parent pain. It was a sister pain. But thankfully, good is coming from it.

The night before Javier, Cally and Elijah left, we all got together for one of Cally's favorite meals of mine... Beef Stroganoff and homemade bread. Javier wasn't quite sure, but I think he ended up liking it!

After the meal Javier started to speak. We were all taken by surprise at the intensity of his voice and the words that were coming from his mouth. They were words directed towards his family... his American family. These words did not come without reaction or response, because these words evoked healing. There were tears shed, understanding took place, forgiveness given and accepted.

Would it have happened if I had not been required to say good-bye to my sister?

The same night we were asked to release a sister, we embraced a brother.

God has a way of doing that doesn't He. Taking something, but then replacing it with another. So how can we only grieve? How can we not choose to see the good that comes from the deep pain...

#5 The little things.

And there are a million of them.  So I will spare you and not list them all here. But they are in my heart and in my book.

I am glad I can be thankful for-

Being able to do dishes, or having someone else do them for me when I couldn't.

For puppy-dog-boys

Words like "Bu-cept" (except)

Simple meals of macaroni (the gourmet Kraft kind) and carrots for dinner...

...and not having a husband that complains!

A girl who is eager to help and is really a help!

medicine for indigestion

Like I said, there are a million and I could go on for days. All these little things add up to great big things that are so helpful when you are trying to 'make it through another day'.

I just couldn't leave you (or myself) hanging on that one post... because it just wasn't all of the story.

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?

No in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.

Romans 8:35,37

So Another Year, Huh?

Every year you hear it... at least a dozen times.

"Can you believe another year is coming to an end?"

This time I can honestly say, "Yes, I believe it!"

Over Christmas I was actually able to do a lot of thinking. And much of that thinking was about the last year that is now trailing behind us. At times I was tempted to drown as I wrote in my last post. There were moments that I did, at least in my tears. I don't want to necessarily focus on the negative, but you can't ignore it either. It happened. It's real. The tears and pain and grief are so real. Why try and brush it neatly under the rug?

I've never really been good at that kind of 'house keeping'.

I'd rather talk about it. Look deeply at it. Face it head on and share what God has done with it and through it. Or even go so far as to admit: I still don't understand, I'm still reeling, the pain is still present.

Is that ok?

This week I have been burdened with thoughts of Ukraine. It was a year ago exactly that I was there. I had just met with the first participant. I was excited and scared and loving being there! I was looking forward to the time of study that I would have with the women and the other leaders. I was enjoying time with family and friends. It was such a special trip.

When we left I didn't know what our next step would be. Initially I thought it would be some kind of action. Putting together another team, planning another trip, raising more money. After a lot of prayer and a lot of 'trying' and talking and thinking and planning... nothing. What had just fallen into our laps the year before seemed to have dried up. God was saying wait.

We are still waiting.

And it's been hard. Sometimes discouraging. I have questioned God, myself, His call. At times I feel as though I have let them down and the many who supported us financially and prayerfully. I have no answers to their questions. I have no answers to my own. I have no doubt we did what we were called to do. No doubt at all. But I'm left to wonder how it will all come together. Will this special ministry continue? What is God going to do?? Will I be apart of it? Am I the only one praying for post abortion ministry to take root in Vinnitsa? At times I feel as though I am...

My thoughts have gone to the many friends who I have watched suffer loss this year. For some it was loved ones to death, deployment, or miscarriage; lost jobs, houses, marriages, and relationships... Some were expected. And some were beyond shocking. My heart has bled with you and for you. I have felt helpless. I have stayed awake nights praying through tears. I have been angry and yelled out in rage. I have even thrown things. It has been difficult watching and praying from a distance. Feeling your pain even though it was not my own.

My thoughts have lingered on my own losses and struggles. There is the ever present parenting and marriage struggles, even though we are good. I have to remind myself, to avoid complete despair, this will never be heaven - at least not until we are dead. This has been the most wonderful year for our family, truly. I am so, so very grateful. We have all grown and matured and applied the difficult lessons from our harder years. It makes me thankful for the hard work we put into 'hanging in there'.
And for the grace of God that didn't allow us to let go, even when we really tired of holding on. It will forever be a process. But I'm not afraid anymore. In fact, I am quite at peace and enjoying this season of rest.

I have thought back over the last 5 months. Finding out we would have another has brought me such joy. For over a year I had felt that someone was just missing. I would have moments of slight panic, feeling as though I had lost one. I would count: 1,2,3... 1,2,3. They were all there, so why did I have this intense feeling that one was not? After a long time of praying, I realized that God had been preparing my heart for another. And when it really came to be, there was a deep sense of completeness that came over me. This pregnancy has been a joy. Even through the miserable days of being sick and exhausted I was able to be thankful. To rest in the gift of this little one. To recognize another chance given to me by God. My last pregnancy came at such a challenging time. I am glad that this time I am at peace and able to truly relish each moment.

But I wouldn't be honest if I left it at that. The first 4 months of being sick was hard as many of you know from either my whining or your own experience. Certain areas suffered at my lack of attention and energy. The kids got out of control at one point, so did the house! Just when we had gotten into a great school routine, everything came to a forceful stop.  But life couldn't stop. We had to keep going, as miserable as it was. Somehow we got through, although I feel as though I lost about 4 months of my life. Mid November I realized that it was no longer the middle of the year, but the end! How the heck did that happen without me noticing until then!! Truly a bazaar feeling.

In the midst of that particular trying time for our family, we were hit hard with the news that our beloved pastor had resigned and under difficult circumstances. There were more questions than answers. I wanted to stop. To say, let's just all take a break, take time to absorb things, you know, process. Can't we just take a minute?!? But no. Once again, life doesn't stop, even when you feel there is no possible way to keep going. One thing I have learned through this situation that threatened to shake me to my core, was that God doesn't need us to hold things together. Thankfully, it's not up to us. It's not our church, it's not our ministry - they are His. We are His. And even though everything is falling down around our ears, somehow, He is still holding us together. It's not our job, even though we get sucked into the thought that it is. We don't even have to try and keep it neat and tidy for God. Because He is even in the midst of the mess. The horrendous, disgustingly revolting mess. He's there and He's promised to never leave us, even when we ARE that mess. Can I say that I am thankful for this? Not yet. I'm just not there yet. I am still reeling. I am still yelling out in rage. I broke down and cried about it just yesterday. The pain is still very much present. And I think it will be for a long time. Some things just take a long time to work through.

And how could my thoughts not be consumed with the fact that my sweet sister and her husband and her baby are no longer safe within my reach. Just a week before Christmas they moved to Honduras to live with Javier's parents. Am I glad for them? Yes. Do I feel certain they are following God's call? Without question. But is it hard? Incredibly. I haven't been able to write about it because honestly, I just haven't been able to. It's just been too hard. Their leaving has left a huge gap in my life and a slight tear in my heart. I miss them. I don't like it either. I've never really had to miss anyone like this before. I have been sheltered all my life from this kind of separation. And now that I am holding it in my lap I'd rather not have to deal with this discomfort, this uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. But it's not something that I can make go away, like a headache with the aid of some Tylenol. I'm stuck with it. So carry it I must.

I know I write these words at the risk of sounding despondent, despairing, depressed. But please believe me when I say I promise, I'm not. Somehow I am really ok. These have been hard things. It's been a long year. But still, somehow I have been able to cling to God's promises through all of it. Not perfectly, sometimes a little late. I definitely have frequent moments of giving into my emotions that are heightened anyway at the moment! I can truly say that God is carrying us. There is just no other explanation. I feel His presence so clearly, so intensely that I cannot even try and deny it. I have not lost hope in His sovereignty. I have not lost hope period.

One song that comes to mind is, The New Song We Sing. I will leave you with these words that are far more uplifting than my own. I feel as though I need to apologize to you. Normally 'New Years' posts are more uplifting and encouraging! But I can't NOT be honest! And somehow I am hopeful and encouraged through it all. God will make it all right.

You are the God who reconciles

The wayward heart through Christ

The old has gone, the new has come

We are reconciled by love

We are reconciled by love

And this is the new song we sing

to the King of heaven

 This is the new song we sing

after all You've given

We stand before you redeemed

as your children

This is the new song we sing.

We who were once so far away

are brought near by your blood

The barrier has been destroyed

by your grace we freely come

by your grace we freely come

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wfEO5zdh4tk

This is the hope we have for this new year. His grace. His reconciliation. His work. Hold on, folks, it's gonna get better!

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)

A Christmas Story

Once upon a time...

There was a little girl. Her name was Olivia and it was her 3rd Christmas, although she wasn't quite three.

She was very excited about the coming holiday. Not because of presents or candy, but because she had been invited to a birthday party for Jesus. There would be cake and presents and singing and crafts, but most important she would get to see the Baby Jesus and she just couldn't wait!

Her Mama was very busy this particular Christmas and sadly thought this birthday party was a little silly and quite inconvenient. She had decorating and baking to do. A new baby was coming too and there was lots to get ready for. And chasing after a 2yr. old and 15 month old made her quite tired. She would rather stay home. She needed to stay home.

But it was all her little girl could talk about...

She had lots of questions about that special little Baby. Questions like:

"Where is the baby Jesus?"
"Where is His Mama?"
"Does He have a white kitty?"
"When will I see Him?"
"Will I get to hold Him?"

Her Mama just couldn't say no to that precious little thing. As she dressed her that Saturday morning, putting a little red bow in her hair to match her red overalls, she saw the light in her eye. The giddy excitement that burst over in little giggles and more questions. It was hard for that Mama not to get a little excited herself.

So the excited little girl not yet 3 and the reluctant Mama drove the long way to church. The sky couldn't have been clearer. The sometimes green rivers were such a vibrant blue as the light from the sun made them gleam. They looked so happy. It might have helped that Mama to feel a little less tired and a little happier too.

As they pulled into the parking lot the Mama quickly realized they had arrived late. No one else was walking in with packages in hand. She noticed the air felt a little more frigid as she couldn't quite get her coat to button over her wide girth. She positioned her scarf a little better so that it covered her protruding front.

She thought of her babe within. How cozy and warm he was. Then her thoughts turned to the young mother long ago who had carried the babe within her willing body...

Had it been cold then too?
Had she been scared?
Did she feel alone, abandoned by her loved ones?
Did she have doubts?
Did she doubt God's plan?
Or was she at peace?

What this Mama didn't realize was that she had thought a lot about that little Baby too and a lot about that young mother. Her own time was coming near and she was feeling heavy and tired and weepy and what was it like riding on a donkey through the desert so close to delivering? Could she have done that, she wondered? What had it been like not having anywhere to go? Knowing that the One she was about to usher into this world deserved to at least be wanted. Did her heart sink as she walked or most likely shuffled into that stable-cave? As she laid on the dirt and straw, did it poke her? Did the smell make her nauseated...?

She couldn't help but wonder.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the little hand that held hers, it pulled excitedly, "Now, Mama?" She was so anxious to see the Baby.

"Not yet, sweety. We have to go to your class first and wrap our gifts so that they can be given to someone who otherwise wouldn't have any presents this Christmas."

She didn't understand why she had to go to her class first. She wanted to see the baby Jesus first. Thankfully she was soon distracted by her friends and the fun job of decorating wrapping paper.

Her Mama moved onto the sanctuary where she would wait with the other mothers, to listen to a devotional. She noticed the manger on the stage with the blanket of clean white tucked snugly inside. Her thoughts again went to that night long ago...

What would it have been like to give birth in such a dirty place? Did she even notice through the pain? Was Joseph scared too? Did they have help or was it just the two of them? Did He come quickly or did she labor long and hard? What was it like holding him for the first time? Was she exhausted or was her strength renewed as she took Him to her breast? Was she overwhelmed with that sweet, powerful  motherly love or the awe of her Savior, or both? She could only imagine the sweet tears that flowed...

Again her wonderings were interrupted as the devotional began.

Soon the children were heard as they began walking down the hall to the sanctuary. They walked in each carrying the gift they had just wrapped. A proud Mary and Joseph took their seats on the stage on either side of the wooden manger where a fake baby Jesus lay peacefully on the scratchy straw.

As soon as her little black patent-leathered feet walked through the big doors her eyes began searching. The Mama watched her closely hoping she wouldn't make a scene as her teacher directed her over to the tree where she was to place her gift and told her to go find her Mama.

She quickly stood so that her little one could easily find her. The confused little girl walked over to her Mama and loudly whispered, "The baby Jesus is up there and we neeed to go see him!"

"It's hard to be patient, I know," Her Mama whispered back. "But we are just going to have to wait."

She ants-ily waited on the seat through the story that was read and the songs that were sung. The Mama was getting a bit antsy too, not knowing how long she would be able to hold her back.

They were then dismissed to the fellowship room for the birthday cake and to sing "Happy Birthday, Jesus".

Hearing the word cake, the almost 3 year old momentarily forgot about the little bundle up front and her long awaited mission. The Mama followed and helped her find a spot and just the right size piece of birthday cake which she quickly inhaled. She hadn't forgotten after all.

One look from her little one and that Mama knew, there was no more putting it off. She took the small hand in hers and they walked together, slowly into the sanctuary.

As they walked through the big doors, the Mama noticed how calm and quiet her normally rambunctious little one was being. It was if what they were about to do was something very sacred. And to her girl, she guessed it was.

The room was empty as they approached the stage and the manger. Mary and Joseph had since gone to partake in eating cake. All that remained was the little plastic baby laying on top of the yellow hay.

"Is that a manger?" she asked.
"Yes, it's a manger" answered her Mama.
"But that is for horses!" she cried.
"Yes, for horses" her Mama thought to herself.

As they got closer the little one became very still and just silently stared into the sleeping face. It was the kind of doll that closed it's eyes when it was laid on it's back.

She then reverently asked if she could hold the baby Jesus.

Here Mama carefully picked up the bundle and gently placed him in her tiny arms.

The small girl stared in awe at this little baby. She hugged him and kissed him and pressed her cheek against his. She then carefully placed him back in the manger. That manger for horses.

The Mama stepped back, thinking this magical moment had ended. But then she heard, "Mama, I just have to hold him again."

She thought her Mama-heart would burst as she watched her precious one gently pick up the baby Jesus one more time. She began to have the same sense of awe as she watched the God of heaven and earth show Himself to this little girl of not quite three in such a simple yet profound way.

The young one hugged Him and rocked Him, kissed Him and loved Him. And her Mama loved Him too.

This is how it had been.

There was no doubt in that Mama's heart. This raw love and adoration that radiated from her little girl's face must have been how the first ones to hold and see this Child looked and felt themselves. She herself felt a sense of what the young mother and father, the shepherds and later wise men must have experienced as they beheld the Savior-Baby for the first time. The awe they had felt and undoubtedly the love that had overwhelmed them for that little Baby they had never seen before. But now would never again not be able to think of. The moment had left them changed.

And she had been changed as well. A sense of knowing came over that Mama as they walked out of the sanctuary hand in hand. An understanding that God had been showing her something through her little girl who had such a keen sense of understanding the importance of this little Baby. And the genuine, innocent love she had for Him.

Driving home she was thankful she had followed her 2 year old to the party that day. That she had been led by that small hand down the center isle to meet the baby Jesus in a way she never had before. That she got to witness the innocent, unadulterated love of a child for the Savior of the World who came as a baby so long ago. It was necessary that He come as a baby. It was necessary He enter our world just as we did. It is necessary that His birth be celebrated each year because it meant so much.

And it was necessary for that Mama to see Him through the eyes of a child, her child that Christmas.

What a truly special moment for both of them. Even if her little one didn't remember in years to come, she would and would never be able to not remember. Just as the shepherds, she had been a witness. She was so thankful God had allowed them both to experience Him in such a special way.

Here is Olivia, she had just turned 3 and was meeting her new brother, Levi for the first time. This picture captures her perfectly and is one of my all time favorites.

We hope you catch the excitement of Christmas this year and experience Him in a special way too.

Merry Christmas!

Grace in Groceries

So I was in Publix the other night.

It had been a while. I was child-less and I was focused. The pen was flying quickly across each item on paper as I placed it in the cart. The wheels turned quickly and agilely around each corner, not having to maneuver around tiny people who always seem to have the keen ability of being right in the way. I felt light and I felt fast. I was conquering the grocery store.

I quickly moved past the fruit juices then the yogurt. Was that on my list? I scanned the scribbled paper I held in my hand. Nope... keep moving.

I was just about to turn down the canned soup isle when I suddenly had to put on the brakes. A Mama had blocked the entrance. She was talking to her little girl and she didn't see me. Once we made eye contact, though she slowly pulled back, allowing me to pass her.

I continued on my mission, making more check marks down my list.

I arrived on the next isle, and began scanning the shelves. Sometime I forget to write things down on my list. I added a couple of things to my cart, ignoring the urge to write them down, just so that I could mark them off. (yes, I do that)

I heard them before I saw them. The Mama and her little girl who must have been about 2. She was not happy. She was fussing and wanted out of the cart, then wanted down, and then wanted her Mama to hold her. And the Mama was talking to her baby girl. Voice soft, gentle, patient... "Are you hungry? Here's your banana I brought for you. No? Then what do you want? A hug? Why don't you hug Mama?"

I looked up then and studied them both. The Mama was a Marine. She wore heavy boots and a dark green top that was covered by what appeared to be a maternity shirt. Her hair was pulled back tight in a bun. She had tired eyes, but willing arms.

I looked at my watch. It read 8:30pm. She just needs to be in bed, I thought.

I moved past them and went onto the next isle. After a few minutes they followed. This time the baby's cries were louder, more demanding. I honestly expected to hear a drill instructor voice come from this tired, pregnant, Marine Mama. But I didn't. Not at all.

"You know I love you...I have missed you all day... Aren't you happy to be with Mama, Lilly? I have waited all day to be with you! she said very controlled, sweetly.

I turned then, my heart going out to this Mama who had been away from her little girl all day, who had missed her and who wanted to just be with her baby, even if it was in the grocery store, even if it was past her bed time.

I did not expect to see what I did when I turned back to look at them. There she was, this big strong Marine Mama and she was on the floor holding her crying baby girl. Sitting. Next to the sugar. In the middle of Publix.

I quickly turned back around, not wanting to embarrass her. I went on to the next isle. My next item. My next check mark.

I smiled to myself as I listened to them from the next isle over. She was still there, on the floor, consoling her child. And I thought, would I do that? Would I lay aside my pride, my list, my agenda to hold my tired, demanding child in the middle of the isle of Publix? What a sweet Mama she is. What grace.

I wondered what the other people around would be thinking. Would they think it was sweet? My first thought was, no. They would probably see it has ridiculous, inconsiderate, annoying. That seems to be the general consensus these days.

But before I could point my finger at the people in Publix, the people in our culture, I first had to stop and look into my own soul and ask that hard question. How do I view my own kids? In the middle of their meltdowns, in the middle of my schedule, in the middle of hurrying through this life?

Often times I am the guilty one. The one who thinks to slow down is a bit ridiculous. To have them interrupt my life is a bit annoying. To extend grace is a little inconvenient. And how inconsiderate is it to have to go to the bathroom when we're in the middle of Wal-mart??

This Marine Mama had no idea how she was convicting me, how she was blessing me, how she was challenging me.

I hoped nobody said anything to her... you know, in a mean way.

Then I felt that prick and I tried to ignore it. The one that makes your hands sweat and your heart beat fast. I'm not really the 'go up and talk to strangers' type of person. I tried to keep going, I tried to stay on task, I grasped my list just a bit tighter.

But then I realized I had forgotten something important on that one isle. I knew I had no choice.

I waited until I had placed it in my cart. Checked it off my list. Turned my cart around so that I could make a quick get-a-way.

I turned and looked at her. She was still busy tending to her tired baby. So I quickly said, "Excuse me. I'm sorry. But I just wanted to say..." what?

How do you tell a perfect stranger how they have blessed you? How do you explain the monologue you had just been having one isle over? How do you thank her for sitting on the floor in the middle of the grocery store to tend to her crying baby...?

So I just said, "You're a sweet Mama. Thank you for blessing me tonight."

I think she was expecting me to say something else. Something negative. Because her eyes lit up and she looked surprised. "Well, thank you" she said with a tired smile.

I walked away and I smiled. I was glad I had said it. I was glad I saw it and was able to really see. I was glad for the reminder to slow down and that it's ok to sometimes look silly if it means ministering to my children. I was glad for the reminder of grace and of the way God parents us.

That's something He would do. That's something He did when He was in the form of a man here on this earth. He sat with the sinners. Even when others thought He was crazy. He still did it, because they were His kids and it just didn't matter what other people thought when it came to His grace. It was ridiculous. It was radical and I'm sure a bit annoying to those who thought He should straighten up His robe a bit or tighten His sandals.

But that's the thing about grace. Sometimes it's messy and not always neat. Especially when it's your kids your giving it to. And especially when you are in the middle of life and in the middle of the grocery store...

Brokenness

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Ps. 34:18

This word weighs heavy on my heart, mind, my very soul.

I have stumbled across it often lately in books, blogs, sermons, in life. Even in nature, it's everywhere.

It is a word that scares me. Mostly because I am understanding more and more its necessity.

I have been weighed down watching the brokenness of those close to me and those not so close anymore. Their grief, their diagnosis, their loss, their pain, their choosing to keep going, their choosing to give glory to God in the midst.

Right now I am on the outside. Tomorrow I may be in the midst.

A few nights ago I woke up from a strange dream. It was about this very word. Broken. I was struck by it, a bit shaken actually. It's not something I like to really think about, explore, you know how it is. It scares me.

In my dream I was a woman - well, sometimes you are strange creature-like things - and I think there was actually more than just one of me. And we were all together in a room. And I was watching the others of me. And they were different than me. And I noticed this. They all had a common bond, a unity that I could not share in. They had been broken, cracked open, stripped clean, there had been pain, repentance, restoration and now they were smiling. They had come out on the other side and were giving thanks. I think they shone, something like the glory of God.

I was waiting for that to happen to me. But it never came. I looked down at my hands and they were closed tight. Little white balls that screamed "NO!" and I felt it inside of me the "NO!" of not wanting to be broken. Not wanting to feel pain or repentance or obedience. It was so real and I understood what I felt and why.

And then I heard the other of myself say in a far away voice, "Look, she is turning." And so I looked and I was. I was becoming mush. Mush? Yes, like in the book Goodnight Moon - "a bowl full of mush..." My hands and feet and then the rest of me turned to a strange kind of mush and I was rendered utterly useless (well, it was a dream after all and stranger things have happened in dreams).

And then I woke up.

I stayed awake for a long time after. My mind wouldn't stop thinking about what I had just dreamed, the strangeness of it and why I would dream such a thing. Again, it scared me.

A couple days after my dream I was again faced with the 'need' of it. This time while teaching science to my children - the process of a seed. It must be broken, die in fact, for new life to come about. And we see this everywhere in the process of new life: a butterfly breaking it's cocoon, a grasshopper breaking out of it's locust shell, a snake shedding skin and it goes on and on...

And again I am brought back to the fear... and this tight-fisted clutching of "NO!" And my dream is no longer a dream, but reality. And I feel it all turning to mush, ash, utter-uselessness... all while staring at a science book.

And then tonight. While in the middle of composing this post, we are driving home from a day spent with friends and it's raining and the thought comes quick and wild, it could easily happen in a flash, and then it almost does. Tires screech, steering wheel sharply swerves, I grasp the door and gasp as I force my eyes to watch the car pull out in front of us, bracing for impact. But it doesn't come and we somehow escape, this time.

You see, I know it's necessary, this brokenness before God. To be transformed, renewed, made more like Him. I know we can trust Him with our lives, with our pain. I know this, I have seen it, have experienced it, I believe it. So then, why do I brace myself for the impact, why do I fear it?

I looked up Matthew Henry's Commentary on that verse in Psalm 51 about a true sacrifice to God being a "broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart". Here is what it said:

It is a sharp work wrought there, no less than the breaking of the heart; not in despair but in necessary humiliation and sorrow for sin. It is a heart pliable to the word of God, a heart subdued and brought into obedience; it is a heart that is tender, like Josiah's, and trembles at God's word. The breaking of Christ's body for sin is the only sacrifice of atonement, for no sacrifice but that could take away sin; but the breaking of our hearts for sin is a sacrifice of acknowledgment.

The breaking of Christ's body...

The breaking of Christ...

The breaking...

It is a necessary work. Not for despair. But to make us pliable... usable... obedient... tender... humble. It is a necessary work, a sharp work, but necessary. And Christ made the ultimate sacrifice, the breaking of His body, the spilling of his blood, Him dying... it was necessary - for no sacrifice but that could take away sin - my sin. If Christ had to be taken there, how much more do we need to be?

 I know I am a slow learner. It takes a while for things to sink deep within me. That's why I often read books at least twice. One Thousand Gifts is no exception. I have read it through once and I am now  working my way through it again. God is teaching me so much. In chapter 8 she shares the whispering of God to her heart about this very issue of fearing what God might bring:

Eucharisteo always precedes the miracle, child...

All fear is but the notion that God's love ends. Did you think that I end, that My bread warehouses are limited, that I will not be enough? But I am infinite, child. What can end in Me? Can life end in Me? Can happiness? Or peace? Or anything you need? Doesn't your Father always give you what you need? I am the Bread of Life and My bread for you will never end. Fear thinks God is finite and fear believes that there is not going to be enough and hasn't counting one thousand gifts exposed the lie at the heart of all fear? In Me, blessings never end because My love for you never ends. If My goodnesses toward you end, I will cease to exist, child. As long as there is a God in heaven, there is grace on earth and I am the spilling God of the uncontainable, forever-overflowing-love-grace.

(I know that was a long quote, but go back and finish reading it... I promise, you will be encouraged!)

Yes, so much to learn.





I want to get to the place where I not only accept ALL the good God sends me, whether the means be through pain or suffering. But to also relax and not fear it, to not brace myself for the impact or clutch tight, white-knuckled. To trust in the goodness of God and the good that He brings through brokenness. I want to give thanks for it, even in the midst.

I will leave you with a few more words from our God. Words our Pastor has been sharing with us over the last few weeks. Words my mind will not let go of...

And we know that God causes all things to work together for GOOD to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.
For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the first born among many brethren;
and whom He predestined, these He also called; and whom He called, these He also justified; and whom He justified, these He also glorified.
What then shall we say to these things? IF GOD IS FOR US, WHO IS AGAINST US?
He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him freely give us all things?

God is not a closed-fisted God. Why then should I be? He freely gives all good and perfect things, should I then not freely and openly accept them? Giving thanks for them, even before receiving them? Trusting and not fearing? For it is necessary, that I should be useful, conformed, glorified...

Brokenness, Brokenness is what I long for,

Brokenness is what I need,

Brokenness, Brokenness is what you want from me.

Take my heart, and mold it.

Take my mind, transform it.

Take my will conform it.

To Yours, to Yours oh Lord.

Take My Life Lyrics By: Micah Stampley